just thinking

My son was explaining the different saws he's learning to use in school when my mind traipsed down a path it hadn't been down in a long time. I could hear the ring of a skil saw echoing around the basement walls, feel the vibration of wood against sawhorses, and smell the unforgettable scent of sawdust.

I wish the memory went farther. I wish I could remember anything my father built in that basement. I can return to that place, even now, and see the work table he built for his shop, an identical one built for holding clean laundry across the room. I don't remember them in process. I remember the noise and the concentration, the time it required, the relief from yelling that his preoccupation with woodworking provided. But I don't know that I ever saw what it was we were working on.

Strange to me.

I should think that memory would operate on a LIFO system, so that we remember most the last thing someone said to us, or the last interaction. But it isn't really that way is it? Memory is more like popcorn, random spurts of perfect kernels, each crest of the inflated seed tied to another. And so many old maids left in the bottom that didn't get enough time, or enough heat to reach their full potential.

I guess it is best that we don't remember our last contact with those who are no longer part of our lives. I would not want to remember only the last painful argument, or the way a loved one looked at the funeral.

Still I'd like to know what it was my dad made all that time in the basement workshop, when I was indentured to hold the wood.

*********

There are a million stories from the shelters. Imagine how long we would be spellbound if someone could tell them all. But the telling is exponential. For every storyteller interacting with a "client" at the shelter, another story is born, and in the retelling yet another.

At one point, I wanted to record each day, my impression of the locale, the people, the attitudes of the officials, the volunteers. But what I've decided is that this was like any other shock situation. The reality lies somewhere between the heartbreaking losses and those who would try to beat the system. Most of the people have survived, and are getting on with their lives. It's time I did that, too.