NOVEMBER 9th, 1940

It happened at the IHS Hospital, Red Lake Reservation, Beltrami County, Minnesota, USA that I left my mother's womb. It was 9:30 AM. The great and terrible Armistice Day blizzard was on the way and when it hit on the 11th Mom and I were still in hospital. I was put into a warm safe incubator with baby boy Graves who did not survive. My Grandparent's always said that I'd been born "the winter of the great storm". So when I got to St Stephen's Parochial School in Mpls that's what I told the teacher. She was upset because I didn't know my birth date. I went home that day to ask my Grandmother when I was born. She said "the winter of the great storm." So I had to wonder what was wrong with the teacher who didn't even know about the great storm. My Grandmother explained that the date of my birth was November 9th, 1940, but I was "born during the winter of the great storm". They never let me forget the baby boy who died. He was like my little lost brother. This journal will be my attempt "to meander (my) way through fields of the future" (Jim dale Huot Vickery). To help celebrate the arrival of my seventh decade I will be following Mae Sarton's journal. On Nov 9th of her 70th year she wrote, "I am fully aware that the presence of a muse literally opens the inner space, just as November light opens the outer space... The clutter falls away." She promised herself "to make every effort to live in eternity's light, not in time."

CEMETERY POP

Cedar loves to visit the cemetery so yesterday we went strolling among the tombstones again. This time she took a bag to gather discarded flowers. We never steal off the graves but when new flowers arrive the old ones are dumped in the woods. We pick our flowers there. But when we reached the far end of the cemetery I found four cans of Pepsi. They were unopened and undamaged so I put them in my pockets to carry them home. When we got to the stone bench Cedar wanted to open one. I told her we needed to clean them with alcohol just in case they were covered with terrible germs. We wondered how the pop came to be waiting there for us. I suggested that the ghost of Elvis had had them delivered there for us to find. It seemed logical since Pepsi was his all-time favorite beverage. She agreed that it was so. I also suggested that the person who carried them to the point where we discovered them probably didn't know why the Pepsi had to be there at that time on that day. When we got home and I swabbed the containers with a lot of alcohol we sat outside and drank together. Cedar said she tasted the alcohol so we swapped cans. I raised my can to the sky and shouted, "Thank you, Elvis!" And Cedar did likewise.

CROSS CREEK

Two cards with gifts have arrived to celebrate my birthday! The Long Hairz Collective sent a gathering of beautiful words and a braid of sweet grass. From Sue I got the movie DVD "Cross Creek" and a nice card. Brian wrote: "I recall your stories like prayers of thanksgiving and sacred calls to action." Joe penned: "You continue to bless us with your fierce healing spirit." Oh, such generous lads! Sue, Laura and I visited Cross Creek and also dined at The Yearling Cafe when I was in Florida so seeing the movie was almost like returning. I don't think the movie was filmed at Marjorie Kinnan Rawling's home but the location was near Cross Creek so it was lush and green and wet. The movie was made in 1980 so perhaps the Rawling's house had not yet been renovated but it didn't look like the house I'd visited. I had read Cross Creek, The Yearling, The Sojourner and a book written by her former housekeeper. The movie doesn't sugar coat Rawling's alcoholism but I was disappointed that we never saw her big yellow car. Now I can appreciate how difficult it really was for her to find her voice and write her great novel. Perhaps I will find my voice, too. And did you know that the elder man who gives her directions to the hotel was really Norton Baskins, her second husband! A very small part. Yesterday Cedar and I returned to visit the local cemetery and walk among the tombstones. She watched Peter and the Wolf several times on netflix. I sat out under the moon before going to bed. Then got up and finished reading "Women of the Silk". The famous movie star Esther Williams and my old friend Cathy Clark appeared in my dreams. I was leaving a school building where I'd been telling tales and my arms were full of coats. Cathy was lying on a towel on the gym floor and didn't want to talk. I carried the coats down dreary city streets. Then a big black limousine pulled up and a man asked if I wanted to ride. I declined. Esther Williams leaned out the back window and asked why I didn't want to ride with her. I said I always refuse to ride in a limousine. So she and the man got out. He took a large syringe from the boot, stuck the needle under the hood and the car got smaller and smaller. When it was a just right I got inside and rode away with Esther Williams. I suppose we were riding under water as I was unable to see the street after that.

MICHAEL JACKSON

We all went to see the Michael Jackson show "This Is It" which documented the last few months of his life. From March to June, 2009 he was in rehearsal for the world tour and it was recorded. Even his reflection on the movie screen was full of electric energy. I was so into it that I applauded at the end of one of the songs. I sat 3 rows behind the rest of the family so they wouldn't bother me. I watched as Justice raised both arms to wave at the great image of MJ. What we saw, in addition to the energy, enthusiasm, dancing and the fireworks, was a warm and gracious human being. He was polite and considerate of all. He also gave a brief but emotional message on the destruction of Earth and how we must get together in an agreement to demonstrate our respect for all forms of life by saving Earth for future generations of children, trees and other living things. Now he is gone but the memory of his incredible gift, genius and compassion is turning him into a modern myth. The power of myth is the power of one.

WAITING DREAMS

I went to sleep listening to Andre Rieu performing The Strauss Gala and it inspired a beautiful dream. When I got up at 4AM for my scrawling session I wrote a poem which included three of my dear old friends and a person I think may have been Gordon Parks.
WAITING DREAMS
I stood near the carousal, a carnival of making merry
In full voice around me. Two old friends hurried by,
Selected two painted ponies and mounted with grace.
I called and waved slowly. Then someone had my elbow.
I was propelled forward and seated in a gilt carriage.
The person released me to mount the wild horse
That pulled my chariot. I removed my sweater and shoes.
I let down my old white hair. The man let down his hair, too.
Soon we were moving to calliope din. Faster! Faster!
Ann's lavender skirt billowed over the rump of her rosy mare.
Roberto's red silk bandanna whipped the sky behind him.
Jim's blue shirt filled with air, water ran out of his sleeves.
His long white hair rose and fell over his shoulders.
I saw a stern black man with white hair watching.
His fists thrust deep into the pockets of his red plaid pants.
"Turn right!" I shouted. Jim laughed and turned left.
The black man scowled as we galloped past.
When I saw him again he was leaving on long strong legs.

The carousal disappeared. The calliope was silent.
Around me a field of wind-whipped wild rye.
Before me the rusted hulk of my carriage.
At my feet a horse skull staring into the blushing sky,
A heal-all growing from the eye.
I covered the head with my sweater, put on my shoes
And walked east on long strong legs
Toward all my waiting dreams.

CHINESE FORTUNE

Michael and Wallis took me to the New China buffet for dinner on Sunday. We over ate and I got light headed when blood rushed to my stomach to begin churning away at the huge supply of food I had ingested. Then the fortune hidden in my cookie left me breathless. It declared in red letters that I needed more adventure and excitement in my life and recommended that I take a vacation. That is exactly what I am going to do. I have already begun to pack!

FINDING NEVERLAND

Halloween is come and gone again. No one tapped their bony knuckles on my door. No childish voices called for treats. I spent the hallowed eve with Cinnamon. He slept while I watched Johnny Depp "Finding Neverland". Several days ago I watched "The Painted Veil". I'd read the book so I found many changes from page to screen. Some changes did not appeal to me but others improved on the book. The book, however, did allow readers a closer look at the inner workings of the characters. One thing I didn't see in the movie was the monument to the virtuous widow. I think it could have enhanced the screenplay. Also the movie doesn't express the deep emotional loss Col. Yu and Mr. Waddington felt when Dr. Fane died. While watching 'neverland' I saw the dark shining eyes of a small boy fill with amazement at the astonishing grandeur of the theater. A little breath of awe escaped his rosy lips and plunged me into grief. It struck suddenly. Without warning. For it was something Brandon did when he stood awestruck before beauty.