I’ve read and re-read this with open-mouthed amazement. The truth of it is almost too much. And at the same time a little thrilling. “I don’t know how he could be smiling” put me in mind of this magnificent poem by Linda Gregg. https://juliegabrielli.com/lifesaving/poetry/the-beckett-kit/
Adam, this series is a deeply satisfying read, imbued with such delicate, fine prose, but more importantly, grounded in a bedrock of feeling that transported me into the body of your seven year old self. I'd love to understand how you were able to access such clear memories of your childhood.
Thanks, Ben. I’m glad you connected with the piece.
As for the memories of that year, they are clear. They are like a slippery stack of Polaroids to me. Some of the dialog is crystal clear, too. “Be careful with those” in the car. “Take whatever you want.” And the emotional memories are locked in. (They are inscribed on the backs of the Polaroids.)
And some of it is working with dinosaur bones. Did I run my finger around the hole of the mold? I don’t remember if it was there, but I would have, and I would have held it in agitation. I do have a “Polaroid “ of the Buddha in the rear window of the car.
All of the key memory impressions are there/alive. And I remember things like my brother off to the right frightened of me when I was in the doorway, the grey day, being by the window crying in the bedroom, the nephew Disney ducks, yes, but the blades of grass, no, but they are tied to that class of experience so I allow them into my Natural History Museum dinosaur composite.
Interesting, and this is our secret, haha, seeing the video for the Extra for the first time I see my alien heads are 100%, but…. I do not think the location is right. It’s not DUMBO from what I can tell.
Omg, no. You are definitely not a Buddha. 😂 I have no recollection, but you probably said, “You should have been more careful.” That’s what might have had you running for cover. Do you remember any of this? And what mold did you get?
I got the small boot. Three inches tall. Painted it with the green ceramic glaze.
I do not remember the Buddha breaking. But I do remember the wall of options, the height, and the wonder of that. The boot was on the bottom row. The word “anything” was definitely missing from our vocabulary, and I’m pretty sure that “take” had been removed as well. I chose based on the impression it would make on the adults, like selecting a dish from a restaurant menu to impress one’s dining companions. I’m glad you picked the Buddha. It was - obvious only later - the perfect choice.
I thought you picked the boot. I wasn’t sure if I was confusing that with something from Mrs. Dodson’s class. I think the boot made it back to the States.
Hehe, I wasn't expecting to scroll here and see this comment but this just made me smile because for a fleeting second my brain wondered when I was reading Adam's retelling :)
I love to start my mornings with a coffee and a koan. Thank you for sharing your broken Buddha with us. He's perfectly imperfect, and a great lesson for the broken child inside each of us.
Well, yes, in a roundabout way, the Great Christmas Tree Disaster of 1996 had a similar effect. Great post!
I did not expect the first comment on this to make me laugh, but you've gone and done it.
I’ve read and re-read this with open-mouthed amazement. The truth of it is almost too much. And at the same time a little thrilling. “I don’t know how he could be smiling” put me in mind of this magnificent poem by Linda Gregg. https://juliegabrielli.com/lifesaving/poetry/the-beckett-kit/
Came across this gem on your link:
When we win it’s with small things,
and the triumph itself makes us small.
What is extraordinary and eternal
does not want to be bent by us.
I mean the Angel who appeared
to the wrestlers of the Old Testament:
when the wrestler’s sinews
grew long like metal strings,
he felt them under his fingers
like chords of deep music.
Yes, that’s a keeper.
The "disembodied sound of grief" -- I'm experiencing this coming weekend and always since his loss ...
I’m sorry, Mary. You know how hard it is to say anything other than I hear you, but I do.
Adam, this series is a deeply satisfying read, imbued with such delicate, fine prose, but more importantly, grounded in a bedrock of feeling that transported me into the body of your seven year old self. I'd love to understand how you were able to access such clear memories of your childhood.
Thanks, Ben. I’m glad you connected with the piece.
As for the memories of that year, they are clear. They are like a slippery stack of Polaroids to me. Some of the dialog is crystal clear, too. “Be careful with those” in the car. “Take whatever you want.” And the emotional memories are locked in. (They are inscribed on the backs of the Polaroids.)
And some of it is working with dinosaur bones. Did I run my finger around the hole of the mold? I don’t remember if it was there, but I would have, and I would have held it in agitation. I do have a “Polaroid “ of the Buddha in the rear window of the car.
All of the key memory impressions are there/alive. And I remember things like my brother off to the right frightened of me when I was in the doorway, the grey day, being by the window crying in the bedroom, the nephew Disney ducks, yes, but the blades of grass, no, but they are tied to that class of experience so I allow them into my Natural History Museum dinosaur composite.
Interesting, and this is our secret, haha, seeing the video for the Extra for the first time I see my alien heads are 100%, but…. I do not think the location is right. It’s not DUMBO from what I can tell.
Oh, the horror.
Uh-oh. Did *I* break it??? PLEASE tell me that’s not the answer.
Omg, no. You are definitely not a Buddha. 😂 I have no recollection, but you probably said, “You should have been more careful.” That’s what might have had you running for cover. Do you remember any of this? And what mold did you get?
I got the small boot. Three inches tall. Painted it with the green ceramic glaze.
I do not remember the Buddha breaking. But I do remember the wall of options, the height, and the wonder of that. The boot was on the bottom row. The word “anything” was definitely missing from our vocabulary, and I’m pretty sure that “take” had been removed as well. I chose based on the impression it would make on the adults, like selecting a dish from a restaurant menu to impress one’s dining companions. I’m glad you picked the Buddha. It was - obvious only later - the perfect choice.
I thought you picked the boot. I wasn’t sure if I was confusing that with something from Mrs. Dodson’s class. I think the boot made it back to the States.
It made it to Maine, and ended its life in that massive dumpster that swallowed almost everything in the attic at the end.
The dumpster had “Threshold V” written across the bow.
Hehe, I wasn't expecting to scroll here and see this comment but this just made me smile because for a fleeting second my brain wondered when I was reading Adam's retelling :)
I'm mortified! No, he didn't do it! 🤣
I love to start my mornings with a coffee and a koan. Thank you for sharing your broken Buddha with us. He's perfectly imperfect, and a great lesson for the broken child inside each of us.
Wonderful writing and storytelling and truths. 🙏
Thank you, Nathan.