A few weeks ago, a “last call before it goes to the dump” Facebook post offered a desk and chair. It has eight drawers.
I’d been using a borrowed-from-the-family drop-leaf table and cardboard Ikea boxes that were starting to melt.
I knew enough to take measurements of the front door and the space I wanted to put it. It was large but not too large. Heavy but not too heavy. Memories of expensive trips to the dump with furniture I’d imagined would work kept me grounded. It would fit.
My friend Heather Goff offered to help; her husband, Bill O’Callaghan, loaned us his truck.
I moved the table and boxes. Took down the super-large dog crate I’d borrowed from Bill, and cleared a wide enough path.
Mum waited in the car with my dog — not watching and not worrying. That was a huge help. Heather and I quickly got it in place.
The desk has a top large enough to open the tablet-size magazines and atlases from the 1890s and early 1900s without moving the lamp, perfume bottles, or decorative crank telephone.
At this desk I am able to read largely and freely, feathering ideas and details that have accumulated after years of reading and writing for my father.
At this desk I can spread my mind out, never wanting to hurry and leave.
At this desk, the privacy I crave settles around me even though it is in a corner of the living room.
At this desk I can seek the truth while sorting the pieces life throws in my path.
At this desk I can drop into the novel I am reading.
At this desk 10 years of research is turning into a novel.
At this desk I can have a cup of tea without fearing I will knock it over and ruin books or papers.
I am so grateful.
Rebecca Gilbert reported sad news from Native Earth Teaching Farm: “I’m sorry to report the passing of our herd queen, Yvonne. She died peacefully after a short period of hospice care. She had a good life, lots of healthy kids, and as a leader she was assertive without being mean. I always felt she had an even more pronounced sense of humor than most goats, and that’s saying a lot. Greener pastures, old friend!”
Ingrid Goff concludes in a “Memorial Poem,” “Love grows the heart. So does sadness./ Within each of us, a warm harbor/ of memories, visions, sorrow and joys./ Where light breaks on distant waves, gulls glide above the incoming sea,/ and the soul of our loved one is whispering./ Fear not. Carry on. I am with you… / I am grateful. I am loved. I am free.”
It is with sadness I note the passing of Robert Edward Lee Knight III. He was one of the dearest men. His phone calls and visits with my father included reminiscences of their times at Harvard, the interruption and experiences of the war, teaching college, Bob Knight in Economics at the University of Maryland and my father in Literature at GWU, Lambert’s Cove and North Road, friends, life, and books. Bob had a mile-wide smile and he played the ukulele. My heart goes out to his family and friends.
Pathways continues to offer lovely events.
Friday, March 15, 7 – 9 pm, “Three Pianos,” with David Stanwood, Frank Wilkens, Peter Halperin, Wes Nagy, Len Morris, Ernie Dewing on percussion, Taurus Biskis, vocals by Cleopatra Wilkins.
And a free swing dance class with Tom Carberry, Saturday, March 16, 7 – 8 pm. No experience or partner necessary. From 8 to 11 pm, “DJ Dancing” with Benham Robinson.
The Chilmark library is hosting Sonic Flow art. Create while listening to meditative live ambient sounds performed by Anna Marden Saturday, March 16, 1 to 2 pm. Supplies provided, or bring a work in progress.
Also on Saturday, March 16, 2:30 to 3:30 pm, the library is offering a class for ages 6 and up on drawing Celtic knots. This sounds great.
Don’t forget Yogi Jay’s Thursday, March 14, noon “Family Yoga” class for those with preschoolers to second graders. I love our library.
I’m marking my calendar for Valerie Sonenthal’s, Peaked Hill Studio’s, full moon sound journey, Sunday, March 24, at 2pm. Sign up on her website, peakedhillstudio.com.
Wishing you all a good week.
If you have any Chilmark Town Column suggestions, email Claire Ganz, cganz@live.com.
