I took a side trip yesterday to honor the my son's first day at school. I can't believe that he is 18 and in college. I also find it very interesting that I drove him to the first day of school every single year from kindergarten to his Freshman year of college. There is some continuity there, probably for a reason as there is throughout life. I am not a believer in magic, or superstition. I have a hard time saying "bless you" when someone sneezes, but no matter how cynical I am there is part of me that looks in wonder at the serendipity or coincidences of life.
For instance. I last mentioned the move from Puente Drive to Cardinal Avenue. There are themes that have repeated through those moves and my life. Religion is one. Now it is funny that my writing this blog and starting with my English1A class in college is coming full circle. You see I feel like I must write everyday. If only I could write everyday. If I would write everyday what would happen. I may need to take a break and I may have times when I can't come up with material. I should write. I might not have another chance. I could just skip it.
Choices. What we do in life echoes in eternity? Does it? I don't know. But we have this one chance to could, should, would, might, may, must.
I have talked about my homes, and how I came to enjoy writing and now I am searching for the next step. So I might or could have or should have written this or that and I may still or I would still be able to but I do know I must enjoy the time I have and the writing I am able to accomplish.
So today I leave you with this poem by e.e.cummings. It is about those six subjective verbs. We use subjectives mainly when talking about events that are not certain to happen. For example, we use the subjective when talking about events that somebody:
•wants to happen
•hopes will happen
•imagines happening
This poem is about the possibilities of life and unfulfilled potential. I may or I might post the analysis I did on this poem in the next segment of this blog. I also may not. I know that I could, and some may wish that I would and some may believe that I should...it's all potential and what we hope to occur. That is possibly the best explanation so far of this blog and my writing, although it is about what has happend it may very well include what was hoped for and what potentially went unfulfilled.
Little Effies Head
here is little Effie's head
whose brains are made of gingerbread
when judgment day comes
God will find six crumbs
stooping by the coffinlid
waiting for something to rise
as the other somethings did-
you imagine his surprise
bellowing through the general noise
Where is Effie who was dead?
-to God in a tiny voice,
i am may the first crumb said
whereupon its fellow five
crumbs chuckled as if they were alive
and number two took up the song
might i'm called and did no wrong
cried the third crumb, i am should
and this is my little sister could
with our big brother who is would
don't punish us for we were good;
and the last crumb with some shame
whispered unto God, my name
is must and with the others i've
been Effie who isn't alive
just imagine it I say
God amid a monstrous din
watch your step and follow me
stooping by Effie's little, in
(want a match or can you see?)
which the six subjective crumbs
twitch like mutilated thumbs;
picture His peering biggest whey
coloured face on which a frown
puzzles, but I know the way
(nervously Whose eyes approve
the blessed while His ears are crammed
with the strenuous music of
the innumerable capering damned)
-staring wildly up and down
the here we are now judgment day
cross the threshold have no dread
lift the sheet back in this way
here is little Effie's head
whose brains are made of gingerbread
