SIGN, SIGN, EVERYWHERE'S A SIGN 3/14/07

In early school life, I was considered to be a "daydreamer" with a facility. While gazing out the window to study the texture of the sun on the leaves or the blue of the blue sky, I was able to bring myself back to the classroom if called upon by the teacher. I would answer whatever question it was without hesitation. This talent of mine was noted in the comment section of one report card that I specifically remember.

I had many questions. The teachers at school were unwilling or unable to answer them to my satisfaction. I took those questions to my dad. He would patiently and thoroughly explain the whys and wherefores of each one. I learned from him how to listen. In my natural state, I wanted a quick summary so I could mentally run off into another daydream. He would call me stubborn like the Calabrese and then gently but firmly insist that I listen. I did. My fascination with details came from those talks.

My t.b.i. is three years old. As I think about these returning memories and type them into the little blogspot box, I realize that some of who I was is not lost. It was inaccessible to me for some months. I embrace myself, recognizing a blend of old with the new rather than the total annihilation that I had feared and learned to accept although I didn't like it.

My cat climbs up into my lap. As I bury my nose in his soft fur, I can say to myself, "I liked cats when I was a kid. I wanted a cat in the worst way. My mother wouldn't let me." I had a dog once named Fifi. My mother gave her away out of spite. I had one goldfish. The goldfish got flushed. My own dog is snoozing on the couch as I write this. My dogs, cats, fish, frogs get the best I can give them. "I liked animals and I still do."

I re-read this post and I remark, "I was a daydreamer. I still am. I used to get lost in details. Now I get lost in both generalities and in details."

I remember watching Jacques Cousteau on television. "I loved the ocean. And shells and the secrets the ocean held." I swam like a fish. I still do.

I learned how to swim in the Army-Navy pool in Carolina with my cousins Judy and Billy. I remember the song on the radio. "I had a sense of rhythm. It came back after some real hard work. I can dance." I can't sing well anymore though. T.B.I. tends to kill that in many of us.

I remember the strange church down south. How different it was from my own. It was cleaner. Not dark or smoky or mysterious. The minister knew everyone by name and the people knew each other. My Baptist aunt giving me a rosary. I wanted a bible. "I was curious about religions." I still am. That interest has matured and fanned out into related interests: power vs. control, cultural biases, languages, geography, history, and philosophy.

My gram had a statue of the virgin Mary in the spare room. I used to read my gram's occult books. I read Seth on the farm. And Sybil Leek. And her astrology books. And her almanac. I watched her plant by the moon. I watched her write today's weather on the calender. "The moon rocked." Selene called me her own several years ago. "I liked to read." I still do-- only now it is primarily computer books on my shelves, along with the gardening books and the witch tomes.

When I was real little, before my grands got their farm, I used to wake up early and watch "Modern Dairy Farmer" on the black and white television. "I liked cows!" Cows rock! Oh!
I remember the vet coming to impregnate the cows with the serum. And the chart showing what qualities could be bred for. Leg strength and milking speed and coat. I remember helping my grands when a cow was going to have a breach birth. I remember the rooster and the chicken outside the window one morning making whoopie. Fascinating stuff. Feathers flying everywhere. "I was curious about sex and genetics." I still am. I remember the play of the sun on the driveway. My great grandmother painting red smiles on the stones in the driveway. "Those smiles made me laugh." I can still laugh at the unexpected little pleasures of life. I still like textures, contrasts. The stuff of artists and the smell of office supply stores have never stopped seducing me.

I remember sitting by the adults at countless family gatherings, refusing to sit at the kiddie table, listening to what they were talking about, watching their facial expressions. "I learned the nuances of conviviality and hidden motives." Social Sciences and psychology and mob rule and cyberculture and forensics beacon me today.

I am electrified. I know that sleep will come slower than usual tonight or perhaps not at all. And in the morning, more healing.

sapphoq on life

sapphoq
traumatic+brain+injury
self