Just as I unpacked my turtlenecks and black tights, they are predicting broken records for heat this weekend! Good grief! No matter what people say about global warming, it has always been thus in flyover country.
Que sera sera.
This weekend I plan to finish Stephen King’s Mr. Mercedes which I started last weekend. It is a straight up detective novel which someone left in the giveaway basket at work. I am enjoying it. Next on the docket is This House of Sky by Ivan Doig, which came highly recommended by someone whose opinion I value.
I have a work event on Sunday afternoon that I have to attend, and after that, the boy and daughter # 3 will come over. Can’t wait to see the wee babes, especially Lottie who decided to stand up this week!
She has hitherto been reluctant to put her weight on her feet, but seems to have decided it is okay now. You go, Girl!
Her brother has been very encouraging.
BTW, on a historical/literary note, 138 years ago today Walt Whitman came to St. Louis to visit his brother, Thomas Jefferson Whitman, who was the city water commissioner. How about that? He liked the great river town, but wasn’t fond of the smog. In honor of his visit, and because it seems appropriate, here is a little bit of Crossing Brooklyn Ferry:
4These and all else were to me the same as they are to you,I loved well those cities, loved well the stately and rapid river,The men and women I saw were all near to me,Others the same—others who look back on me because I look’d forward to them,(The time will come, though I stop here to-day and to-night.)5What is it then between us?What is the count of the scores or hundreds of years between us?Whatever it is, it avails not—distance avails not, and place avails not,I too lived, Brooklyn of ample hills was mine,I too walk’d the streets of Manhattan island, and bathed in the waters around it,I too felt the curious abrupt questionings stir within me,In the day among crowds of people sometimes they came upon me,In my walks home late at night or as I lay in my bed they came upon me,I too had been struck from the float forever held in solution,I too had receiv’d identity by my body,That I was I knew was of my body, and what I should be I knew I should be of my body.
…9Flow on, river! flow with the flood-tide, and ebb with the ebb-tide!Frolic on, crested and scallop-edg’d waves!Gorgeous clouds of the sunset! drench with your splendor me, or the men and women generations after me!Cross from shore to shore, countless crowds of passengers!Stand up, tall masts of Mannahatta! stand up, beautiful hills of Brooklyn!Throb, baffled and curious brain! throw out questions and answers!Suspend here and everywhere, eternal float of solution!Gaze, loving and thirsting eyes, in the house or street or public assembly!Sound out, voices of young men! loudly and musically call me by my nighest name!Live, old life! play the part that looks back on the actor or actress!Play the old role, the role that is great or small according as one makes it!Consider, you who peruse me, whether I may not in unknown ways be looking upon you;Be firm, rail over the river, to support those who lean idly, yet haste with the hasting current;Fly on, sea-birds! fly sideways, or wheel in large circles high in the air;Receive the summer sky, you water, and faithfully hold it till all downcast eyes have time to take it from you!Diverge, fine spokes of light, from the shape of my head, or any one’s head, in the sunlit water!Come on, ships from the lower bay! pass up or down, white-sail’d schooners, sloops, lighters!Flaunt away, flags of all nations! be duly lower’d at sunset!Burn high your fires, foundry chimneys! cast black shadows at nightfall! cast red and yellow light over the tops of the houses!
Have a great weekend! Try to get out and look at a river and “people watch”. What is the count of the scores or hundreds of years between us? Not much, I think.