Category: Holding onto the Past
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The Day Bob Dylan Dies
[Source: Google search.] This is not an obituary. It’s not a eulogy. It’s a foreshowding. I’m a sensitive guy. I’m seventy years old and I cry at the final scene of Casablanca, several times during Dr. Zhivago, and at the end of Sleepless in Seattle. I make no apologies. But, lately, my generation (mostly the…
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Fathers and Coffee
One more cup of coffee before I go… –Bob Dylan [My photo] This gray, almost monochromatic morning, I lounged in bed reading yesterday’s New York Times. It’s something we did every weekend for years while we lived in Manhattan. The…
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At The Museum…For Decades
[I loved this Alaskan canoe when you could see the people in it.] The more things change, the more they stay they stay the same… -Anon. I never understood the above quote, except to say that I think it means that history repeats itself. I certainly can get that…considering the Trump Era. You can figure…
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On Front Street At The End Of October
Different times…different places…different memories… [Photo source: Google search.] I should mention that, as a child, one of my favorite things to do this time of year was to kick a pile of leaves along a stone sidewalk. It’s gloomy, rainy and windy here in the North Country. It rained hard before dawn this morning so…
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The Toboggan
When I enter our garage from the door that faces our house, I don’t often look up. What could be up there that I’m avoiding? Well, there is an old oak bed head-board and foot board that was mine when I grew up at 420 Front Street, Owego, NY. There are stickers of cowboys and…
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Coal For Christmas
[Artwork:Watercolor sketch by Paul Egan (Date unknown)] Note to my readers: If you think you’ve read this blog before, don’t thing you’re getting senile…(the doctors won’t release such information)..this is perhaps the third, maybe fourth time I’ve posted it. Hey, maybe I’m the one getting senile. I’ve tweaked the story several times to try to make the narrative better,…
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A Farewell Letter To Jimmy
Hey, Jimmy…I can’t bring myself to call you James. For most of my life you’ve been Jimmy, so there it is. Mariam and I were in Burlington just this past weekend. As I wandered up and down Church Street I kept wondering where the restaurant was that we met for the first time in over…
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Here I Sit In Space #275 In The Rose Reading Room: Yet I Am Not Insecure
It was an afternoon in mid-October. The rain had fallen most of the morning so when I arrived at the wet slippery steps of the Main Branch of the New York Public Library on 5th Ave., the scattered metal tables were mostly empty and wet. I posted a photo of the wet tables on Instagram.…
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Where Are The Castles In The Sky?
When I was a young boy, my mother would walk with me down through our backyard and toward the river. There was a decline on the property that, in very old times, was the bank of our river. Now, it was simply a gentle slope down to a lawn that took my father decades to…
patrickjegan 