Excellent article that makes me rethink everything about how story has defined me. How poems have taken the place of novels or short stories. How the wrong tangent in genealogy research collected stories I love about people I AM NOT RELATED TO. Who the F cares. It's amazing how many people have written and told their stories in letters, journals, and O.M.G. obits. What a treasure trove are the obits. And your mention of inscribing our names and dates on stones. Who lies here? Thank you, Paul, for another great piece of writing. And I'm glad you both are getting close to the end of one grizzly chapter and starting a brilliant new one. Pet little Santo for me and hug Tonya.
Thank you, Sue, as always! And I totally forgot to talk about obituaries, a form of condensed narrative that never fails to astonish me. Usually written in a flat affect, but often filled with amazing details. I remember when I began to discover them, I couldn't put them down. Luckily,, I guess, we never run out of interesting obits.
I hope to one day make a detour on some road a few thousand miles from here and find a coffee shop near you where we can maybe swap some stories. I mentioned that to Jeff, as well. It would be near impossible to have a Juke convention (roundup? conclave? powwow? meetup? levitation committee?) but it would be fun and, if you got all the peripatetic contributors here together at once and drew lines from where they lived and crossed them all, I'd bet the intersection of them all would be somewhere west of the Mississippi.
Okay, I must need some coffee. And I should also write about medical journeys one day, too. Not as much fun. Here's to whatever narrative each one of us weaves together out of this one day, the only one really promised to most of us.
WOW! Wouldn't a meeting of the JUKE minds be awesome. I wonder if I could keep up with your all. Meanwhile, we have a few coffee places here in Minden-Gardnerville that can accommodate a quiet meetup with you and Tonya and Santo. I'd love to hear all about your recent travels as you search for your own special Paradise somewhere out there.
Speaking of obits, ever try writing your own? I got a bug in my ear a few years back and composed one. Interesting the plot line of it all generally led to writing for Substack. All the dots lined up in a row. The main concern, though, was to tell my story myself rather than trust someone else to do it. When I read my sister's obit, I wondered who the hell wrote this shit?
For someone like you Paul, who enjoys telling stories, I have to add that you are a very good listener, too. Colorist, architect, film maker, etc. All listening acts, too. With Juke, we all share our affinity there. Words are landscapes, I believe. Why, I, too, loved this piece, Paul.
Aside from it taking me way back to times when I could not honestly share much. When speaking openly of my experiences was going too far. In college I chose to major in philosophy. Some students readily understood, while others, like me, found it so hard. I managed to graduate. Then, at an off campus party, I was locked at the kitchen sink doing dishes, when the head of our philosophy department arrived. She stood and stared at me. Like what are YOU doing here? She'd scared me to death before. Party-goers came and went while I dried plates, etc. The professor stopped the flow, and rather condescendingly, she asked me, "What did taking philosophy do for you, Miss Christopher?" I dried a glass, set it in the rack, and turned to her. I felt publically flunked. I am shy, and she knew it. I turned to face her. "Well, there is no book or magazine or newspaper, science article, or equation, any piece of writing, that I cannot read and understand if I set my mind to it." My first and last perfect story. Thank you for reminding me just how important storytelling is, Paul. Precious, despite the hardships, the hope in paying attention to the big and small things. All of it.
You had me from "Broadway Danny Rose" & my heart pounded with gratitude & recognition all the way through this cell-realigning essay. Thank you both so much! It's especially resonant after a family weekend in CT filled with love, vintage photos & a whole lotta storytelling. What a gift to be the keeper of the stories - & the recipient. ✌🏼❤️
Excellent article that makes me rethink everything about how story has defined me. How poems have taken the place of novels or short stories. How the wrong tangent in genealogy research collected stories I love about people I AM NOT RELATED TO. Who the F cares. It's amazing how many people have written and told their stories in letters, journals, and O.M.G. obits. What a treasure trove are the obits. And your mention of inscribing our names and dates on stones. Who lies here? Thank you, Paul, for another great piece of writing. And I'm glad you both are getting close to the end of one grizzly chapter and starting a brilliant new one. Pet little Santo for me and hug Tonya.
Thank you, Sue, as always! And I totally forgot to talk about obituaries, a form of condensed narrative that never fails to astonish me. Usually written in a flat affect, but often filled with amazing details. I remember when I began to discover them, I couldn't put them down. Luckily,, I guess, we never run out of interesting obits.
I hope to one day make a detour on some road a few thousand miles from here and find a coffee shop near you where we can maybe swap some stories. I mentioned that to Jeff, as well. It would be near impossible to have a Juke convention (roundup? conclave? powwow? meetup? levitation committee?) but it would be fun and, if you got all the peripatetic contributors here together at once and drew lines from where they lived and crossed them all, I'd bet the intersection of them all would be somewhere west of the Mississippi.
Okay, I must need some coffee. And I should also write about medical journeys one day, too. Not as much fun. Here's to whatever narrative each one of us weaves together out of this one day, the only one really promised to most of us.
WOW! Wouldn't a meeting of the JUKE minds be awesome. I wonder if I could keep up with your all. Meanwhile, we have a few coffee places here in Minden-Gardnerville that can accommodate a quiet meetup with you and Tonya and Santo. I'd love to hear all about your recent travels as you search for your own special Paradise somewhere out there.
Speaking of obits, ever try writing your own? I got a bug in my ear a few years back and composed one. Interesting the plot line of it all generally led to writing for Substack. All the dots lined up in a row. The main concern, though, was to tell my story myself rather than trust someone else to do it. When I read my sister's obit, I wondered who the hell wrote this shit?
So happy trails, Paul. And story on .....
For someone like you Paul, who enjoys telling stories, I have to add that you are a very good listener, too. Colorist, architect, film maker, etc. All listening acts, too. With Juke, we all share our affinity there. Words are landscapes, I believe. Why, I, too, loved this piece, Paul.
Aside from it taking me way back to times when I could not honestly share much. When speaking openly of my experiences was going too far. In college I chose to major in philosophy. Some students readily understood, while others, like me, found it so hard. I managed to graduate. Then, at an off campus party, I was locked at the kitchen sink doing dishes, when the head of our philosophy department arrived. She stood and stared at me. Like what are YOU doing here? She'd scared me to death before. Party-goers came and went while I dried plates, etc. The professor stopped the flow, and rather condescendingly, she asked me, "What did taking philosophy do for you, Miss Christopher?" I dried a glass, set it in the rack, and turned to her. I felt publically flunked. I am shy, and she knew it. I turned to face her. "Well, there is no book or magazine or newspaper, science article, or equation, any piece of writing, that I cannot read and understand if I set my mind to it." My first and last perfect story. Thank you for reminding me just how important storytelling is, Paul. Precious, despite the hardships, the hope in paying attention to the big and small things. All of it.
Thanks, Connie, for the high praise - coming from you - and for your own story. xoxox
I really enjoyed this one. Then again I enjoy all of your stories. In this case though it prompted more introspection. In a good way.
Thanks, Jeff. Next time we get out west - which I'm always hoping is sooner, rather than later, I hope we can grab a coffee and trade a few.
That would be great! Sounds like you are planning a move. I hope you find the perfect place.
You had me from "Broadway Danny Rose" & my heart pounded with gratitude & recognition all the way through this cell-realigning essay. Thank you both so much! It's especially resonant after a family weekend in CT filled with love, vintage photos & a whole lotta storytelling. What a gift to be the keeper of the stories - & the recipient. ✌🏼❤️
Thanks, El. We each dip in the same shared pool or fantastic characters. xox
Yes. "Broadway Danny Rose" Same here, Ellen.
Thank you for taking me on a summer trip
I seldom travel in the summer preferring to stay put in VT
and leave in winter…here’s to others
I love NYC in the summer, whenever everyone leaves, and getting out in the winter. Thanks, S!
Thanks for sharing. Vermont is a special place. Love it in winter, too.