At Eternity's Gate, an entirely new film on Vincent van Gogh. The title is also the name of one of his paintings.
En francais, I thought it was Willem Defoe and twas!
When I enter the movie room, I always close the doors, so we won't hear the ding - albeit pleasant - of the elevator.
I've gotta watch a film in total concentration!
How many cell phones went off? Four.
Heads turned toward them, including mine, in approbation.
Went to Mom's after that. She could actually hear as I went up to her room and put on her shoes. Tres difficile.
Ellen made a delicious canned salmon lunch for us. They do not eat mayo like we do. We, of course, includes Scott.
When I got home, a newspaper was lying in the drive.
THE TIMES CHRONICLE.
OMG, I accidentally deleted half the post.
Wrote about when I worked at the Intell/Record. Knew so many people. Ilga Johnson was the top seller of ads and classifieds. Just looked her up online. She's 81 !!!
Yesterday started physical therapy with the great Margaret Fitzpatrick out of her Hatboro office. Worked with student intern Tanya Morris from TU and Jackie Pedersen.
When Margaret poked her head in the room, I said They're torturing me!
Good! she said.
I read the newspaper on the floor. It wasn't particularly interesting, but I'll write a Letter to the Editor about what I enjoyed about it. The ads were interesting. So was an art show at Abington High School. One painting in particular caught my eye: blue background and the whorls of branches on a tree. I'd buy it for $50,
When van Gogh's mood was bad, he made pix like the chaotic one above.
NEWSPAPER
Lying in disarray on the living room carpet
like huge puzzle pieces is The Times Chronicle.
Sitting on the floor listening to the jazz station I scan every
single page.
The obits bring good news. Folks are
living until their nineties.
Color ads make products look inviting
gotta have it, the detergent, the yogurt,
My excitement is visceral. My life
lights up, until I close the paper
And return to my life. Dull as
a hesitant conversation.
And that's when I pick up my book.
***
Hi Ruth!
I am amazed! And touched! I would never have thought Thunder Paws! would have such a long lasting affect on anyone. I’m glad you loves him, and hope you always will.
My
wife and I have been traveling in Arizona, New Mexico and Texas, where
we took a long road trip with our three oldest grandsons. I’ve been in
kind of a lackadaisical daze ever since we returned. This explains my
tardy reply.
I often wish I could get off Facebook, but it connects me with so many people I work with and among.
I
did not post a thing while we traveled. I did not want to advertise
that our house was empty. I just said I was taking a break from
Facebook.
This is about all I’m good for right now.
Kept the poems flowing…
Bill
On Mar 21, 2019, at 2:18 AM, Ruth Deming <ruthdeming@comcast.net> wrote:Hello Bill Hess!
Am not on Facebook anymore so I can't read your delightful posts.
A friend of mine borrowed Thunder Paws for nearly a year.
The book is now home with me in my cozy quarters in Willow Grove, PA.
I think I shall celebrate by writing a poem. Ahem. Here goes.
THUNDER PAWS
Books, books, and more books.
That's my house, emptied now of two children, gone off on their own.
Books become my kids.
None more so than Thunder Paws.
In the early frosty morning I sit on red couch
I'd smoke a pipe if I had one
And turn the shiny pages of Thunder Paws
As the sun rises over Charlie's house
across the street.
Oh, Thunder Paws, I loves you so.
But off you must go, once again,
The world needs you more than ever
Your innocence, your faithfulness, your beauty
Chaos reigns across the land
And even the world
The Innocent shall save us
I hear the patter of her little feet
As she trots into the kitchen
To see what's to eat.
Oh, Thunder Paws I loves you so.
- Ruth Z Deming
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