Monday, May 31, 2010
In my previous life…
sometimes when flying over less populated spaces across the U.S., I would peer down at places like Laramie and wonder, “What is that town?” “Who lives there?” “How far is it, from ‘civilization?” “What are the people (and their lives) like?” and finally, “Do they want to be there?”
I think I may have mentioned—once or twice—that with our teeny-tiny airport we don’t see many planes around Laramie, except for an occasional glimpse of one of the three daily departures or arrivals of a Great Lakes airline plane to and from the Denver airport.
Occasionally, we’ll also get a glimpse of that miniscule speck way up in the sky, that is sure to be a jet crisscrossing the great expanse of the United States, or what’s left in it’s wake—the white fluffy plumes of jet smoke.
Now, as I look skyward and see those very same planes way—way—way up in distance, carrying people like me to destinations unknown, I wonder, “Who are they and where they going?” and finally, “Do they want to be where they are going ?”
And if any of them are peering down at me, let it be known that, “Yes. I do, in fact, want to be here.”
At least—for the time being that is.
I think I may have mentioned—once or twice—that with our teeny-tiny airport we don’t see many planes around Laramie, except for an occasional glimpse of one of the three daily departures or arrivals of a Great Lakes airline plane to and from the Denver airport.
Occasionally, we’ll also get a glimpse of that miniscule speck way up in the sky, that is sure to be a jet crisscrossing the great expanse of the United States, or what’s left in it’s wake—the white fluffy plumes of jet smoke.
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| The only clip art I could find |
Now, as I look skyward and see those very same planes way—way—way up in distance, carrying people like me to destinations unknown, I wonder, “Who are they and where they going?” and finally, “Do they want to be where they are going ?”
And if any of them are peering down at me, let it be known that, “Yes. I do, in fact, want to be here.”
At least—for the time being that is.
I have just one word for you—just one word…
Plastics...
I’ve read a number of western-based fiction for my two book groups.
I’m currently reading Dancing at the Rascal Fair, by Ivan Doig, about Scottish immigrants who settled and homestead in Montana in the late 1890s.
Last Fall I read The Work of Wolves, a beautifully written and hauntingly melancholic story about several modern-day youth coming of age in and around a South Dakota reservation, by Kent Meyers.
Pieces of the story have stayed with me, including these passages about plastic bags.
The wind here, however, keeps the bags alive, floating and billowing like “prairie jellyfish” or “chattering impaled and visible ghosts,” waving as we pass by.
I first noticed them as the wind flattens them along the fence, which is directly across the street and encircles the Jr. High.
Then I noticed them dangling along other fences and jagged edges and sometimes, dancing along the street, particularly on windy days.
I also think of the Work of Wolves, and that quote from The Graduate, when I see them flying around.
Mr. McGuire had absolutely no clue when he said “Plastics” to Benjamin Braddock in 1967…
I’ve read a number of western-based fiction for my two book groups.
I’m currently reading Dancing at the Rascal Fair, by Ivan Doig, about Scottish immigrants who settled and homestead in Montana in the late 1890s.
Last Fall I read The Work of Wolves, a beautifully written and hauntingly melancholic story about several modern-day youth coming of age in and around a South Dakota reservation, by Kent Meyers.
Pieces of the story have stayed with me, including these passages about plastic bags.
"A great blob of white came rolling out of the sky and flattened against the windshield with a sucking sound. Earl jumped and then saw it was only a plastic grocery bag. It reinflated immediately and sailed away, a prairie jellyfish…Caught in the stunted and dying trees in the cemetery and on the barbed wire fence that encircled it and on the stiff stalks of yucca and sage that grew on the hillsides above it, more plastic bags flapped, ballooning away from the wind. A few years earlier, Donaldson’s Foods had switched from paper to plastic. It had taken those years for the bags to accumulate, but now they occupied all jagged and jutting edges in town, leaving nothing for new bags to catch on. Through the closed windows of the car, Earl heard the bags’ chattering. Impaled and visible ghosts. From the corner of his eye, he saw them waving in the cemetery, but he refused to look there…On top pf a pile of rusted machinery in the empty lot where someone had once tried to start a manufacturing business, a single plastic bag fluttered. Earl saluted it—a new edge discovered—and drove on by."I know, for-a-fact, that just as many plastic bags litter North Arlington as do here in Laramie but they're usually ‘drowned’ and lying dormant or hidden in bushes or the like, by the rain and humidity.
The wind here, however, keeps the bags alive, floating and billowing like “prairie jellyfish” or “chattering impaled and visible ghosts,” waving as we pass by.
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| Plastic---caught along Happy Jack Road between Laramie & Cheyenne |
I first noticed them as the wind flattens them along the fence, which is directly across the street and encircles the Jr. High.
Then I noticed them dangling along other fences and jagged edges and sometimes, dancing along the street, particularly on windy days.
I also think of the Work of Wolves, and that quote from The Graduate, when I see them flying around.
Mr. McGuire had absolutely no clue when he said “Plastics” to Benjamin Braddock in 1967…
Friday, May 28, 2010
A different kind of study mate
I’ve spent quite a bit of time in the Student Union Bookstore this past week.
This morning, after the ballet, I stopped in and was confronted with this display…
This morning, after the ballet, I stopped in and was confronted with this display…
Wish that they had had these offerings when I was a student.
Wait!
I AM a student!
Hmm—I feel a need for another trip to the bookstore coming on…
Peter and the Wolf
The Laramie Ballet Company 7220—the number represents Laramie’s altitude—performed at the UWYO Arts & Science building this morning.
The production, Peter and the Wolf, was a special showing for all of Laramie’s elementary school students.
I went because a friend’s daughter—the friend who moved here from VA last August with her kids and whose daughter goes to school with the teenager—is a dancer with the company, which is mostly adult and college-aged dancers and performers.
What fun!
And what a great opportunity for my friend’s daughter, who wouldn’t have these same dancing and performance opportunities in a larger city.
Just another one of the benefits, of small town living!
The production, Peter and the Wolf, was a special showing for all of Laramie’s elementary school students.
I went because a friend’s daughter—the friend who moved here from VA last August with her kids and whose daughter goes to school with the teenager—is a dancer with the company, which is mostly adult and college-aged dancers and performers.
What fun!
And what a great opportunity for my friend’s daughter, who wouldn’t have these same dancing and performance opportunities in a larger city.
Just another one of the benefits, of small town living!
Thursday, May 27, 2010
They don’t know—hot!
I had to laugh, as I walked through the union this afternoon and overheard variations on these comments—“It’s sooo hot today!" "Can you believe the temperature?” "I’m roasting—it’s boiling today!”
It was 78 degrees—a nice moderate temperature by most standards.
Granted, the hot Wyoming sun raises the heat index anywhere between 5 to 15 degrees.
Then again, there is the never-ceasing Wyoming wind, which reverses that heat index, so that it actually feels like—75 degrees.
Factor in zero humidity, and I find it all so amusing.
I’ll take a “little breeze” over humidity any day of the week.
They really don’t know "hot" in these parts.
On another topic: I'm bummed.
Just finished watching the Suns lose to the Lakers in OT.
The Legal Dude thought it was over in the 3rd quarter, when the Suns were down by 18 points.
Geez—no faith, that dude.
Now we have to wait till game 6 on Saturday, to see how it all plays out.
Tomorrow it’s back to the Celtics and the Magic
Go Magic!
It was 78 degrees—a nice moderate temperature by most standards.
Granted, the hot Wyoming sun raises the heat index anywhere between 5 to 15 degrees.
Then again, there is the never-ceasing Wyoming wind, which reverses that heat index, so that it actually feels like—75 degrees.
Factor in zero humidity, and I find it all so amusing.
I’ll take a “little breeze” over humidity any day of the week.
They really don’t know "hot" in these parts.
On another topic: I'm bummed.
Just finished watching the Suns lose to the Lakers in OT.
The Legal Dude thought it was over in the 3rd quarter, when the Suns were down by 18 points.
Geez—no faith, that dude.
Now we have to wait till game 6 on Saturday, to see how it all plays out.
Tomorrow it’s back to the Celtics and the Magic
Go Magic!
♫♪ It’s a beautiful morning ♫♪
It is suppose to be near 80ยบ today—awesome!
The wind is slight, by Laramie standards.
The sun is shinning, although through cloud cover.
The grass has been green for sometime, but today, most of the trees are covered with what looks like green felt.
Oh happy day!
Yep. It is truly a beautiful morn...
The wind is slight, by Laramie standards.
The sun is shinning, although through cloud cover.
The grass has been green for sometime, but today, most of the trees are covered with what looks like green felt.
Oh happy day!
Yep. It is truly a beautiful morn...
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