Stories

Read this recently and thoroughly enjoyed it.

Author's website can be found here.

The time and place in which this story is set reminded me of a  story about my Grandpa Charlie growing up in Cottonwood, Texas.

According to family legend, Charlie stayed behind one day when everyone else went to town. He was 12 or 13 and thought he'd try out the new family automobile -- and this was way back in the early 1900's -- while no one was around to watch him (legend does not tell how the family traveled to town).

He was delighted to get the machine running, but the excitement soon faded when he could not figure out how to turn the dang thing off. So he circled round and round until it ran out of fuel and when the family returned Charlie had to explain why the car was parked under the big tree in the yard.

I also recently enjoyed Diane Keaton's memoir, Then Again.

She's an interesting woman and her memories are interwoven with excerpts from the many collages, scrapbooks, and journals her mother created. 

On a somewhat related note, I went to my very first Drawing Class this week at the local community college. The college is on the edge of town where not too long ago crops were growing. We noticed the raptors hunting out there during the fall, and now I know why. Cottontail bunnies by the gob lots were stretched out cooling themselves on the shady lawns when I arrived for my evening class. Some of them lippity-lipped into the shrubbery when I strolled down sidewalk toward the Art Lab. Others remained still and avoided eye contact. I imagine they eat the landscape and annoy the grounds crew, but I found it rather charming to have bunnies all over campus.

So. Drawing Class is really small. Myself and one other woman were the only students the first night, but the instructor was expecting three or four more who we think may have had difficulty locating the class. It is a community education class, not a college course for credit, so it feels easy and encouraging. For me it's external discipline to force me to spend a couple hours a week practicing so I can improve my basic skills. I'm not interested in a late life career as Oma the Artiste, just trying to spread my wings a little with an eye toward perhaps one day creating Oma's Illustrated Memoirs for the enjoyment (or annoyance) of the descendants.

Not because I have lived interesting experiences like Diane Keaton, or enjoyed the fictional family capers of Calpurnia Virginia Tate, but I do have a story or two in me.

We'll see what comes of it. If anything.