Old thoughts for new

My brilliant cousin, Jennifer, has started a blog based on a pile of notebooks and papers she found with scraps of previous writing she’s done. You should read it when you have a chance because, truly, she’s brill.

It also gave me an idea for something I can begin to do on my own blog in my never-ending attempt to make things more interesting for you, my loyal reader. I have a million old journals and papers and things like that from which to pull, though, have no fear, I will be selective.

For a first run, I was trying to find an email I sent to someone explaining why it is I love the Olympics so much, how they are so much more than a sporting event, etc. Said email was never tracked down, which is likely to mean it was a phone conversation or a figment of my imagination. Either way, if I want to post my paean to the Olympics, I’ll have to come up with it from scratch, and I shan’t be doing that now.

However, during my search, I did find rather a lot of emails from which I can cull interesting things. One series of said interesting emails was to and from my friend Adam (alternately known as “manly man of the red earth,” “Edmond,” and “that guy we used to know who’s never here anymore.”) A few years back, I moved to Iowa and he traveled to India. Both far from home, we wrote to each other, and the correspondence was sprightly and varied. Some were more consequential than others. I include here tidbits from the inconsequential with editorial comments as needed.

“Kasey C.

Hello!

I'm so sorry to hear that you cold-cocked yourself with a pole. That had me laughing for a little while, but I'm sorry if it hurt.”

I have only the vaguest memory of this happening and I really wish I knew more because it sounds hysterical. I’m not entirely sure how I would have accomplished such a thing, but it does sound rather like me. Actually, wait, it sounds more like Jen.

Re: my request for a fancy peacock of my very own:
“P.S I cannot bring you back a peacock, they are too large. I think I can fit a crow in my carry-on though. They are plentiful here.”

He lies. He brought me no such crow. I’m still waiting.

In which he informs me of a little-known custom:
“I was thinking again about your relocation choices, and I think it is a possiblity that you will move back to GR. The reason being, is that you did not throw a valued item in the Grand River when you left. Or did you? Are you aware of that custom? If you throw something you highly value into the Grand River when you leave, it means you won't come back. If you don't the curse is still on you and you will come back.

But I'd say, come on back to GR. . . . I have a newfound admiration for it. It sounds so clean when I think of it now. Your gypsy side can take road trips. There was a real live gypsy sitting next to me here in the internet place. She asked me about an english word and her gypsy boyfriend got mad.

I'm glad that you weren't aware of the grand river myth, you might have made a lifelong mistake.”

On John and Heidi’s then-forthcoming nuptials:
“I assume you'll be at the upcoming wedding. I wouldn't want you to miss the crystal glass/oral interp piece that I've worked on. I don't want to give it away but it involves a monologue from The Yellow Wallpaper and some dry ice.”
I am EXTREMELY sorry to say I was apparently out of the room for this piece’s performance. I am in hopes it will one day be recreated.

On the joys of jury duty:
“It is getting late, and I have been randomly selected for jury duty tomorrow morn. So I should probably sleep for that. I don't know what will happen but I have memorized several lines from 12 Angry Men that I plan on using at some point.

Talk to you soon,

Adam

'I'll just run this up the flagpole and see who salutes it'

..that's one of the lines.”

Next week on blogtalk: Kastie version-- More email fun! Or journal fun! Whichever strikes my fancy!

.