On this morning, while Jake still occupies the floor bed next to the kerosene heater, I am found on the adjacent couch, somewhere inside of jammies and unflattering fleece socks and the old down vest and the enormous Grape colored puffy jacket born of the Huntingdon Goodwill (for $6).
Today I will work, for the daytime hours as Mrs. Quill, purple pantsed child art teacher of much whimsy, for the evening as a purple pantsed bartender of comparable whimsy. This is a Tuesday like many other Tuesdays EXCEPT after we turn off the lights and lock the doors, smell the cold fryer grease and the spilled beer on my legs and shoe bottoms, I will bid a temporary farewell to my bearded companion and take flight for points south.
First, to Baltimore, where I will sleep (and interrupt the sleep of my traveling companions/overnight hosts).
Then, in the morning, to New Orleans.
Many years ago, returning from Ecuador and driving immediately north to Huntingdon, Jake wrote that, “coffee will be at a premium”. This much remains true.
I am excited for the impending temporary thaw, and for the companionship of Iggo and Franco and the family and friends who await in that bowl-shaped city. We will think of our northern companions, rising before dawn in boots and flannel pants to fill the heater, sipping cocoa from a cat mug before falling back into easy sleep, breath hanging in the air. We will return to them soon.
Now, for the cats.
This fine lady (with the appropriate last name of Katz) sends in a picture of Arlo (Guthrie). I have been tempted with tale of his owner, Judy’s “folkie wild-woman sister-cousin”, and her accompanying banjos.
Regrettably, I missed this event and its original screening at the Walker Art Center. As chair of the Huntingdon County Arts Council Programming Committee I should probably wield my power and schedule something in the neighborhood of this.
from JON KNEPP
Soon-t0-be-father-to-a-baby-helicopter, Jon Knepp sends in this spooky thing and I have no explanation for it.
from MIKE SHEA
All cars should have one.
From our old apartment. I will be lonesome for the three-legger and the two-legger in the days to come.