I'd
have to look at my calendar to see what I've been doing. London, planning return, picking up new car,
etc.
Twenty-five
years ago today Jan and I arrived in Rome from New York, probably at about this
time.
Thinking
in mass this morning how, several months ago, I would often sit in mass and
think about Myles Connolly, imagining myself, far ahead in the future, as
another Catholic writer attending to my daily mass; but where was my message,
my talent? Now I feel more myself than
before. Why? Is it simply because I have tended to think
less of Myles Connolly (why?) or because I have somehow begun to establish, or
to better establish, my own identity.
Which is??
The
days in the past week or so have been filled with the smell of garden or
perhaps farm fires, burning the dead and trimmed branches, plants, discarded
things; a scent whose fragrance has been absent since last summer/autumn.
Mara
is writing/illustrating a book called something like, "if you see a ____
then you know it's summer," after a book she has entitled, "if you
see a ____, you know it's spring."
I've forgotten now what she was using for a sign, but I suggested that
she use lavenders and roses or add something like seeing more than one bumble
bee, or perhaps "midges" or "thunderflies": all signs of
summer here.
I
have also had the pleasure of observing, for the first time in my life, the
wheat turn from green to gold. It is now
all golden. The transformation happened
in the beginning of June. I remember
seeing fading green from the plants on our way to Stanstead on the 11th, also
on the 3rd of June.
These
warm, sunny days all remind me of my childhood days in Pasadena. Do I wish for those days or is it just a
connection that I cannot ever shake? I
really do have a good feeling, a feeling of attachment for those days, whether
I enjoyed them or not, though I don't see how I could have enjoyed them, they
were all hot and smoggy. But perhaps it
was the freedom of those days or the sure knowledge of the cool evenings ahead. I recall thinking of Las Vegas our last night
in Tuscany, but apart from that night, I can think of precious few times this
past year I have been reminded of Las Vegas.
On the other hand, I often find myself thinking of comparable days or
nights in California, or elsewhere, New York, Cleveland, even past days in
London (those breezy days in London with the wind blowing the clouds by so
rapidly; the island breezes).
I
can see us going back to Las Vegas and fitting in the way we used to, though
wouldn't it be a surprise to find that we didn't fit in? I can't imagine that to be the case, though
how much do I long to live in the green countryside! Perhaps, then, that will be our next dream:
to live in the green countryside, and perhaps, having fulfilled our one dream,
we will know how to grab hold of the next one and make it more and more our
goal until finally we will do it, just as we have done with this dream.
The
next step of life does promise to be quite interesting. Of all the things I can think of, my goal of
living in Europe for a year was my principle, indeed only guiding dream. What will replace it?
One
of the things I have found over here is the anonymity I used to find at the
beach (in a crowd) or at UCLA (in a crowd).
The City of London has offered me many hours of similar enjoyment. It often seems to me, however, to be a waste
of time, spending so much time wandering around by myself. What good can ever come of it?
The
closest I get to it in Las Vegas is wandering the malls. But compared to the beach, UCLA or London,
the malls are sterile, with nothing to offer but food (good old hamburgers and
submarine sandwiches) and shiny new things to buy, in London I can appreciate
history, at the beach I can appreciate nature, at UCLA I thought of my own
potential. Casinos, though they offer
anonymity, are closed and airless, no place to walk, nothing to see but the
same fascination with gambling. I don't
even find the people that interesting, though I'm not sure I'm being truthful
there. I suppose I should say that the
people are interesting, but that they are mainly preoccupied with the same
thing, whereas out on the street or even in the mall people come in a variety
of poses and preoccupations.
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| Regent's Parl, Late June |
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