Erosion

I lifted the phone
But flinched at the tone
Totaling my debts with painted currency.
Warmed to the cold,
I wandered to search
For the last of my scattered bones

Sometimes I just want to sit
When the wind is strong
And think about the sky.
I think of primordial mornings
After a volcanic age
When rock pushed into mountains
And woke to hate the rain

Book Roast--Susan McBride

Today I'm roasting Susan McBride and her new release, The Debs over at Book Roast. Stop over for scorching laughs, tasty conversation, and a chance to win a freshly grilled, signed copy of Susan's book! There's plenty of home cookin' for everyone.

Ventilation, Part 9 (fictionalized history)

(In 1952, polio reached its peak in the United States with 21,000 cases of paralytic polio. The first polio vaccine was introduced in 1955. By 1965, the total paralytic cases had fallen to 61. In this fictionalized history series, we will be experiencing the aftermath of polio, before the dramatic triumph of a vaccine. If you're just joining us, go back to Part 1.)

Eighteen Months After Hospital Admission
December 25, 1953


Julia hummed along with the radio.

She drifted with the continuous Christmas carols and the snowflakes flitting outside the window. From her high-backed chair, she could see the parking lot below and the white gathering on the pine needles.

During We Three Kings, the orange blinker of a station wagon roused her from her daydream. Slushy tire tracks turned in from the street.

She pressed the call button.

Although she liked getting out of the iron lung everyday, breathing still wore on her like a marathon. Talking was out of the question.

As she waited, she listened. Holidays were weird in the hospital. A mixture of silence and bursts of strange laughter and excited voices.

The team arrived, and the nurse combed her hair while the orderlies rolled the chair over to the machine. It cycled air in, air out, even without her. Turning it on and off risked more repairs or a break down.

"That's a pretty blouse you have on today," the nurse said, smoothing it after they tucked Julia inside.

The deep, deep breaths felt wonderful. Julia smiled.

"Your family's right outside."

Julia heard her mother hush her little brother. He whined. Packages crinkled. And bags changed hands.

"Are you ready?"

Julia bent her neck to check herself, then nodded.


Go back to Part 8.

Giants of the Chesapeake III

On the morning of March 9, 1999, the fishing trawler Beverley Ann II dragged her nets slow in intermittent rain. When the rain cleared, visibility on the River Tyne was 1 to 2 miles.

The skipper of the Beverly Ann II saw a large radar contact three miles out. The old equipment did not show speed or heading. The skipper turned his attention back to his nets. Rains returned, and the skipper listened to the melodic slap of the water.

Half a mile out, a huge ship emerged from the mist.



The skipper could see both sides of the hull. The point of the prow bore straight for him.

He could throttle up, but the drag of the nets would hold him back. If the ship snagged, the trawler would be pulled under.

He reversed engines.

The vehicle carrier Cypress Pass churned closer.



When the wall of steel met him, the skipper braced.

His front quarter hit, and the force turned him. The deck pitched, ramming his mast into the gigantic ship.

Down the side, his trawler passed close enough to touch. When the wake nudged him away, the immense stern rushed onward, unaware of the Beverley Ann II.




The skipper rushed below decks.

No water.

The hull held.

He hurried to the radio with his hands shaking and called for the Coast Guard to respond.



(These photos were taken during our own encounter with the Cypress Pass approaching Turkey Point in the upper Chesapeake Bay. At over 42,000 gross tons, the ship was involved in an accident other than the one I've described. During a storm on October 21, 2004 in Bremerhaven Germany, the berthed ship broke moorings and collided with the vehicle carrier Freedom. Here, the Cypress Pass enjoys calmer days. We had to chase her to get clearer pictures.)

I'm With You

When you were young, did you imagine your future mate? Did you feel a strange connection to this person, almost like he or she could see what you were seeing? Hear what you were thinking?

I did. And maybe you did too.

Perhaps, it's a part of youth. Perhaps, as our psyche emerges, the missing pieces and traumas reach out to be healed. We wish for a person to save us.

Once in a while, I come across a song where I hear this longing. Most often the pure expressions are from songwriters who are young. Here are two that come to mind:

'Cause you're everywhere to me
And when I close my eyes it's you I see
You're everything I know
That makes me believe
I'm not alone
(Michelle Branch, Everywhere)

Isn't anyone tryin to find me?
Won't somebody come take me home
It's a damn cold night
Trying to figure out this life
Wont you take me by the hand
take me somewhere new
I dont know who you are
but I... I'm with you
(Avril Lavigne, I'm With You)

If you were one of those who delved into these dreams, how have they fared as you've aged and experienced life? Do any parts of them endure? Have they brought you happiness, or pain?

Ventilation, Part 8 (fictionalized history)

(In 1952, polio reached its peak in the United States with 21,000 cases of paralytic polio. The first polio vaccine was introduced in 1955. By 1965, the total paralytic cases had fallen to 61. In this fictionalized history series, we will be experiencing the aftermath of polio, before the dramatic triumph of a vaccine. If you're just joining us, go back to Part 1.)

Six Months After Hospital Admission
December 1952


The nurse scrubbed shampoo into Julia's hair. A folded towel darkened under her head. They used as little water as possible to minimize the mess.

Of course, it was easier to wash at the sink. But the girl hated being pulled from the iron lung. She panicked at the struggle to breathe.

"Are feeling okay today, honey?"

The girl didn't answer. Just stared.

"Your mom's coming today. Aren't you happy about that?"

The girl didn't even blink.

"Don't you want to see your family?"

"No."

Barely a whisper.

The nurse began carefully rinsing.

"You don't mean that, honey."

Julia's head snapped up off its rest. The nurse jerked back in shock.

"YES! I DO!"

Her head splashed back onto the towel and sprayed suds onto the nurse's lap.

"Julia!"

The nurse gaped as tears spilled over the girl's cheeks.

"Julia?"

The girl squeezed her eyes shut and tried to control her voice. "I know what today is."

"Today?"

"I know! Don't you think I do? Don't you think I hear things?"

"Julia, what do you think you--"

"Six months. That's what it is." The girl choked out the words. "I haven't gotten any better. You're going to tell my mother I'm not going to get better."

"Julia...."

The girl shook her head back and forth, back and forth, but it was weak. The polio even crippled her anger.

"Julia, nobody knows that. You can still get better."

She sobbed harder.

"Julia. You never know. Anything can happen."

The nurse glanced at the clock. How late it was. The kid was getting hysterical.

"I have to finish you hair."

Back and forth, back and forth.

"Julia, I have to finish your hair."

Getting late. The kid sputtering.

Out of time.

"Now you listen!"

The nurse grasped Julia's head in her hands and glared into the upside down eyes.

"Stop it! Right now!" she said.

Flooded blue eyes. Quivering lips.

"Your mother can't see you like this! You have to be strong for her, Julia. You have to be strong!"

The girl sniffled as the nurse mashed the soap from the rest of her hair. The roughness quieted the child.

When the nurse paused at the doorway with her sopping bundle of laundry, she saw Julia's stoic eyes turned upward.

Good.

They had gone to stone.


On to Part 9.
Back to Part 7.

Third Anniversary

Three years ago, The Clarity of Night began.

Although this blog didn't start out this way it's become, I think of it now as a kind of interactive magazine. A little something for everyone, with a common theme and a common feel. That approach has pushed the writer in me to experiment, to learn, and to grow.

You helped me more than I can say. Thank you for that. Truly. And if I've been able to give you a little something in return, all the better. I'm glad to have spent time with each one of you.

Here's to another year!

(*The katydid, pictured above, being my favorite night insect, has become the mascot for The Clarity of Night. This one, knowing of my up-coming anniversary, stopped by the cabin a couple weeks ago to treat Aine and I to a photo-shoot and a concert. To Mr. Katydid, we give our sincere appreciation.)

Thinking of What to Say

This evening I'm sharing a new night conversation with a man in his twenties. It's entitled "Thinking of What to Say".

Stop over for a glass of wine, a comfortable chair, and a safe place to relax and talk.

If you're interested in your own night conversation, feel free to contact me at jevanswriter at yahoo dot com.

Ventilation, Part 7 (fictionalized history)

(In 1952, polio reached its peak in the United States with 21,000 cases of paralytic polio. The first polio vaccine was introduced in 1955. By 1965, the total paralytic cases had fallen to 61. In this fictionalized history series, we will be experiencing the aftermath of polio, before the dramatic triumph of a vaccine. If you're just joining us, go back to Part 1.)

Five Months After Hospital Admission
November 1952


Julia knew the hours of night by their sounds. By the shape of their silence.

Midnight. The last of the day people wove their routes toward home. Yawning. Driving too fast. Tapping a horn when someone stumbled into their way.

One o'clock. The roads emptied, except on weekends. Then, beer bottles sometimes smashed. Tires squealed in the nightlight town.

Two o'clock. The invisible ones drifted. Julia imagined them that way. Without bodily form. Engines crept under the trees. No one caught them. No one cared.

Three o'clock. Lost thoughts wandered the streets. She could feel them. Thoughts reaching out from lonely beds. Thoughts lying next to slow, blissful breathing. Soundless pictures on televisions flicked off. Open books settled on night tables in the darkness. All of them walked the ghost streets unknown to each other.

Julia's thoughts at three were buttery and smeared with black sunshine. There was wind. Fireflies. The squish of sand heavy with water.

Sometimes, she jumped from drifting sleep because she felt herself falling.

Wide awake, she waited for her heart to fall back into rhythm with the iron lung.

But she couldn't fall.

Locked in her cocoon.

Cradled by the soothing sounds, she hid from cold, strangling hours until the salvation of dawn.


On to Part 8.
Back to Part 6.

August Forest

In the quiet August sun....

The crickets mourn the whithering day
As goldenrod feasts in breezes sway

Caterpillars race against the autumn cold
Dark dreaming sleep when year is old

Secretive mushrooms, the rains betray
Chanterelle sunsets from trails astray

High-hopping thieves glisten with gold
Masked Mr. Wood Frog says, "oh, I'll give you something to hold."

Suo Gan (Lullaby)

Huna blentyn yn fy mynwes
     (Sleep, my child, upon my bosom)
Clyd a chynnes ydyw hon;
     (It is snug and warm)
Breichiau mam sy'n dynn amdanat,
     (Your mother's arms wrapped tightly around you)
Cariad mam sy dan fy mron;
     ('Tis a mother's love that lies in my breast)
Ni cha' dim amharu'th gyntun,
     (Nothing shall disturb your slumber)
Ni wna undyn â thi gam;
     (Nobody will do you harm)
Huna'n dawel, annwyl blentyn,
     (Sleep in peace, dear child)
Huna'n fwyn ar fron dy fam.
     (Gently sleep on your mother's breast)

--Suo Gan, Welsh Lullaby

Maybe she sang lullabies
Before the telephone rang
Tucking in the Snoopy sheets
Smiling with starving lies
        (Check on me
        Check on me too
        But in your eyelid flutter
        I smelled the stench of you)

A savior sips his beer
Down by the train
Dials drips of acid
And prefers you didn't hear
The world is light on heroes
In case you haven't seen
Let me mourn my angels
Where pathetic promises have been

Indian Pipe

"Hey there," he said.

"Hey," she said.

"You ready to go?"

"Got my walking shoes on."

"Perfect."

"I almost couldn't get away," she said.

"What happened?"

"The same crap. My mom. You know."

"Yeah. I know."

"Sometimes I wish she would start smoking again. I swear."

"Really?"

"No. Not really."

"God, you smell amazing," he said.

"Well, I just took a shower."

"Oh, don't tell me that."

"Why not?" she said.

"Wipe that evil grin off your face. I can barely walk as it is."

"I noticed," she said. "You're getting flushed too."

"I'm not surprised."

"And your ears are red. So cute."

"Go ahead. Laugh at me," he said.

"Breathe, man. Breathe."

"You love torturing me, don't you?"

"Hey!"

"What?"

"Don't do that here!" she said.

"Fair is fair."

"Seriously! Not here! Someone will see."

"The sun is on your neck. I can't help myself."

"No, no, no. Back up."

"Don't you want me to kiss your neck?"

"No!"

"Because after I start there, I'm going to go down. Down to the tops of your--"

"Okay, okay. Enough. Now I can't walk very well."

"Mission accomplished," he said.

"Shit."

"What?"

"We're close to the forest already, I can smell the ferns."

"Hear the crickets? They're early."

"I'll have you know that I can't even smell ferns any more without getting wet."

"Seriously?" he said.

"Seriously."

"Now you're turning red, my dear. Come on, breathe."

"I can't."

"In.... Out.... In.... Out...."

"You're not helping!"

"Let's hurry, then."

"Walk! Just walk," she said.

"Here, let me--"

"No!"

"But we're under the trees now," he said.

"Farther."

"Lots of ferns here."

"Oh Jesus."

"Lots and lots...."

"That feels good."

"Yes?"

"Mmmm hmmm."

"I love when you shower for me."

"I love it when you--"

"Lie back."

"Right here?"

"In the nice ferns."

"I'll just--"

"That's right."

"God...."

"I love the skin on your legs."

"Mmmmm."

"Way up here. I love how smooth you are. And especially...."

Off to the side, her fist curled around a tangle of ferns.

A small stand of Indian Pipe snapped from the ground as she pulled.

And she roared over the canopy into the late afternoon sun.

Giants of the Chesapeake II

General Frank S. Besson, Jr. was a noted army commander specializing in logistics, engineering, and transportation support. His contributions were felt in World War II and post-war Japan and included the rehabilitation of the entire Japanese rail system. He developed a roll-on/roll-off technique for rapid loading and discharge of vehicles from watercraft.

In 1987, two years after General Besson's death, the Army completed and deployed a new class of logistic support vehicles or LSV's. This configuration was designed for direct deployment of cargo to shallow water terminals or undeveloped coastlines and inland waterways.

Although these ships are over 270 feet long, they are capable of landing in 4 feet of water. Here is LSV 1, the General Frank S. Besson, Jr., the namesake of its class.

Officers and crew alike watch the tiny boats pass on the steamy Chesapeake afternoon.

Tailights

Lights on the road
Tail light place holders
With red thoughts
In closets
Humming
What song was that?
I wish I could sing it
I wish I could get off this road

There's more to the night
Dark sloping mountains
Like the curve of a woman's back
For As long as I can remember
But here we race
Barely moving
The tickertape line
Barely moving
And the star-march median
The only dance
Of a soft satin viper

Sink your teeth into my dreams
I can't escape
I'm barely moving
Barely moving