Wednesday, December 9, 2009


Last night I dreamed that I shared a small log cabin with two men, a woman and a crocodile. We got along fairly well until one of the men began prowling about with a dagger. He seemed to be in charge of the crocodile. At first the croc was fun and friendly but he got surly, too. The dagger man said we must keep the croc well fed or he would begin eating us. Soon we were spending all our time finding food, cooking food and feeding the croc. I decided to leave but the croc became aggressive and dagger man forbid it. Finally I and the other woman escaped. We were walking in a beautiful forest when she turned to me and said, "You never really know who you can trust." She slid her hand into her pocket and pulled out a knife. I woke up before she could do me any harm.
"That magic moment, the first snow! In half an hour the field was white." Mae Sarton 12-9-1981 The snow began yesterday. Last night the sky was a rosy lilac field of blowing snow. This morning the sky is a great pearl and snow is stacked 8 inches against the window. A cold breeze caresses the trees and all the brittle twigs tremble overhead. A crow has gained a lofty perch, fluffed his sooty feathers and croaks a bleak monotonous harangue of surprise punctuated by dismay. He does not approve of winter for it brings daily hardship and challenges his ability to survive. According to the Tribune this cold air is coming to us from Montana.
Mike McNally came on the city bus today. He brought homemade pumpkin soup and hard salami. I had cake and tea ready for him. Then I made a grilled cheese and ham sandwich which we shared. Oh, how we raked up the old memories. I felt Larry Cloud Morgan in the room with us. I told Mike that Annie had purchased Larry's old barrel stove. That brought happy smiles from both of us. The idea that the same stove that warmed Larry has warmed us and will go on to warm others, too.
We talked about the long gone Mokahum Indian Bible Hour. Mike has copies of some of the tapes that were aired on the radio many years ago. I was well acquainted with the staff and many students because I had served as secretary to president Dan Wetzel before the school closed.
When I think of Larry... I think of love. His love comes sweeping up from the past and sustains us here and now. Just as the love of my grandparents Antone and Frances Roberts-Smith Vanoss transcends time and renews itself from moment to moment. The memories of love are forever.

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