Sunday, August 10
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The boy he got admitted to State. It's so good that he's goin' off the farm and... Me and Birdie raised him good and we both miss her and I'm goin' to miss him and... and.. It's good he's goin' off... Real good... And... Here comes the night bus... And... good that he's goin' off...
The story is so moving. You can see that words here have ended and memories kicked in. They are still close enough to touch, but no longer close enough to talk. The father and the dog are already recalling an eight year old buddy... and the young man is wondering about tomorrow. Each of them are there together on the running board, with time running down... as it tends to do, only not quite in heartbreakingly dramatic moments that are caught so forcefully well. In moments these three will begin to build different memories.
We are treated here to a doorway into a father's sense of oncoming loss of son and perhaps his own ambitions... A son's sense of nervous expectation... And another best friend's sense that something beyond her understanding is about to happen.... Oh yes... and a doorway in time.
(SLAP!) Thanks... I needed that... I get sappy every now and then. Must be drinking too much milk.
Went off to Adamstown today. It's a Lancaster County town a few miles North of Lancaster City that's the capital of antiques. Hundreds of dealers. Thousands of pictures. Stories. Imagination. Here's an original Norman Rockwell sculpture I found in a glass case. It's theater, huh?