Friday, May 28, 2010

Like A Gift

That's how I felt this morning at The Clearing. Mike, the director, invited me to have breakfast there before I began my rounds of meeting with an editor (magazine-variety) and interviewing sources for article info, so I was in the Lodge as this week's students arrived for breakfast. One of the classes this week was Poetry Camp which I have taken in the past, and there were 5 people there that I'd been in class with--plus the teacher Robin, of course. They were all so glad to see me, it was very gratifying. You know how you're never really certain how people perceive you? You think they like you, but in dark moments you wonder if they haven't just been being polite? Today, six separate times, I saw proof that I am liked. I wanted to step outside and go in again just to revel in the delight on their faces one more time. I'll never forget it. Remind me of this, will you, the next time I'm feeling down?

May 27--Kauai, Hawaii. The little white ball sailed far over the manicured green lawn, skipped across the jagged black lava rock shore, and plopped into a foamy wave. Hank stood and watched the spot where his golf ball had sunk as if expecting it to surface again. "That's a goner, my man," Bert said, clapping him on the back with a meaty hand. "Damn Nicklaus," Hank said. "Who designs a hole with a dogleg right by the ocean?" Not one of the other three answered. They'd all lost balls to Madame Pele's ravenous sister who ruled the seas around Hawaii. Hank was the most recent arrival on Kauai and didn't yet understand that you had to pay tribute to the sea goddess if you wanted to play with the big kids.

Time for beddie-bye. G'night.

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