|Walrus and the Carpenter|
"The time has come," the Walrus said, "to speak of many things. Of shoes and ships and sealing wax and cabbages and kings."
I confess. I was one of those kids whose parents read to her. And before Dr. Seuss, and other age appropriate literature. I remember Aesop Fables and Uncle Remus and Alice in Wonderland most specifically. Other kids were reciting nursery rhymes and I was doing renditions of The Walrus and the Carpenter. That behavior was seen as quite odd in the first grade and resulted in the first parent/teacher conference. And my Aunt Amy cautioning me at a family gathering, "You must watch it or people will think you quite mad." She would know because at times she fell under the same assumption.
I have learned not to speak of why the sea is boiling hot or whether pigs have wings, but it would seem that I am living among people that do. And without fear of the consequences. Mind you I expect some conspiracy theories to be bantered about. And Black Lake has its share of UFO's. And those that believe they are among us. One of my friends sees the Men in Black but fortunately not the aliens yet. Her husband had a top secret military clearance for some decades and she spends far too much time with him.
Taos is full of airy fairies. They go there to worship at the alter of crystal healing and magnetic resonance, and the mountain that hums. I will not toss all such theories out the window but they go and listen and do not fully attend and come out with their own unique version. Which is what I think I did with the Walrus and the Carpenter at six. By eight I had nailed it and was on to the funeral oration of Marc Anthony though not totally aware that "lend me your ears" meant to attend me and what I am saying.
This week, however, has been a bit over the top as to strange conversations. One or two I might have initiated in jest. But it occurred to me that I live surrounded by people that do not always get the jest of a remark I toss off. Or know all the lines of poems and plays I put into a conversation. At such times I truly miss the well read friends that have passed on.
Last night at dinner my Aunt Amy whispered in my memory, "people will think you quite mad." And I wanted to quote her to my dinner companion but I doubt she would have understood. In fact I was not sure what she understood of the evening. No, she doesn't drink. And I cannot see her dropping acid ever. But I thought of the funny farm song. And kept looking for them to come through the door. Do they still do that?
Course I am my friends are at that age that it could be dementia or Alzeheimer's disease. Or just too much time alone in front to the computer with Google.