Wednesday, December 20, 2006
Walking In the Evening, In the Rain
In the 14th arrondissement, in Paris, there is an area where artists and photographers have lived for some time. The Rue d’Alesia, something about it seems familiar beyond time and space. Giacometti lived and worked here, seemed to be happy, even if it kept him up until 3 AM at times.
The creative process doesn’t have a timetable. It needs to be nurtured. And fed. But the act of creating something, be it artistic or just something useful, needs to be exercised often.
Tonight when I went out for my what was once a run and is now a walk (for now) , I was almost run over, by someone who was too distracted to actually pay attention to what was right in front of them. How does that happen?
In 2001 we had the ruins of two skyscrapers and 3000 people lying in front of our eyes. We were in the mood to be united, “Let’s roll” was our anthem. America was under attack and we weren’t going to take it without giving back some ourselves.
Somewhere along the line it coarsened us as a country and as a culture. We need to work on that.
My 90 year old aunt and I were talking the other day and she was talking about how rude everyone seems to be.
It happens all the time, with strangers, with friends, with family even.
Are people too busy?
When I was a little one, it seemed my sister had time for me. Of course I was helpless and she probably understood that. When we grow up do we stop needing that kind of consideration? Is it too much to expect from folks? It probably is.
Everyone is so busy, so distracted. So hard to connect, even with ones we know and love.
When my son was a little one, I spent a lot of time with him, taking care of him, walking with him, traveling, hanging out. I loved it. I miss it. I should have had more children. One of my friends started a whole new family. I think his new wife isn’t much younger than his oldest child. And now he has a whole new slew of babies.
I swore I’d not let being too busy get in the way of my family. I made a lot of sacrifices, spent a lot of time care giving. Lost my wife along the way to an incurable disease. Stuck it out in the good times and the not so good times. 2006 has been a challenge to me and the family here. I think about my dad, he’s been on my mind, as has been a brother who didn’t make it through childbirth. Funny though, today he was talking to me through the mist as if we have known each other all my life. He’s one who can never disappoint me. What did it mean to my dad to lose his first son? A young man with hopes and dreams, I miss you pop. I wish you would have spent more time with me and my son.
When my Sicilian family came to Texas 5 generations ago they understood the need for the family to stay strong. That family had a reunion last summer. I found out about it afterwards. They didn’t know we came back to Texas 30 years ago. How could they? Hey, a lot of our California family has all but written us Texans off, we’re not part of their inner circle, their priorities have shifted. They have their bright lights on but they don’t see us walking in the evening, in the rain.
Posted by Alfonso Cevola at 2:40 AM