Relative Something

*this* John W. Hays’ take on things and experiences

Posts Tagged ‘Memories

Intoxicating

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there are words
with grip strength
that surround a heart
and come out of nowhere
magically recounting
a lost memory
of unconscious love
sung to a melody
that glides along a winding path
effortlessly rolling over
gentle hills
of unrivaled beauty
from an impossible dream
all color and soft light
with an intoxicating aura
rising warmly on afternoon rays
of filtered golden beams
a chorus of emotional bliss
an immemorial infatuation
that forgot to end

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Written by johnwhays

November 4, 2017 at 9:26 am

More Pics

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Our Saturday afternoon with Mike and Barb’s grandkids was so much fun, Cyndie and I keep finding ourselves bringing up memories of the day. There were so many wonderful moments, the photos spill over from yesterday’s post to today.

Thank you to Mike for sending us these precious images to share!

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Written by johnwhays

October 23, 2017 at 6:00 am

Posted in Chronicle

Tagged with , , , , , ,

Looking, Listening

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The morning light coming over the eastern horizon bathes our property with such picturesque hues. Yesterday, Cyndie captured how the smooth, freshly mowed hay-field looked as she and Delilah made their way around to open the chicken coop and tend to the horses.

Was it a coincidence that while I was processing this image, John Hartford’s “Gentle On My Mind” was playing and took over my brain with its lyrics?

“…in back roads by the rivers of my memory
Keeps you ever gentle on my mind.”

Maybe. Maybe not.

That’s the kind of song I wish I had written.

I’m probably in this mindset after reading Rickie Lee Jones’ tribute to Walter Becker on RollingStone.com. Just put me deeper in songwriting envy, revisiting the Steely Dan catalog and some of Rickie Lee’s best.

“done up in blue print blue. It sure looks good on you…”

She writes, in answer to her query about the “blue” meaning, that Walter told her he didn’t know; just felt like writing it.

I understand exactly.

Rickie Lee’s big breakout self-titled debut album was released when I was working full-time in a record store. Her phrasing and lyrical story telling captured me immediately.

“you never know when you’re makin’ a memory…”

My memories are flowing over the rolling hill of the hay-field toward the rising sun that is sculpting the popcorn clouds hanging low under the high blue sky. I am thinking of lives and loves who have come and gone with whispers and kisses, dipping toes in unknown oceans of improbable possibilities that did or didn’t actually play out, but undoubtedly shaped everything that has happened since.

Luckily, love grows, unbounded by physical limitations, and it continues to pave the rivers of my memories.

Ever gentle on my mind, indeed.

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Again

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now what is happening
to make everything alright
to change the outcome
to illuminate the night
in lieu of alternatives
in light of more spite
take this little guitar
or it might be a uke
that thought it was a violin
not made out of wood
more like an animal skin
rounded out hollow
one song still within
that it played by itself
oozing memories for others
with fragments that make sense
mostly people
not the places
a door slams me awake
and it’s over
without warning
leaving the sound of the wind
and an endless drone
all crickets and frogs
the very place things begin
there’s a sheet
under there somewhere
bunched and tangled
I smooth it out
then pull up the covers
I’d like to start over
again

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Written by johnwhays

September 4, 2017 at 6:00 am

Eleanor

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Words on Images

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Confusing Mix

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In my song, the sixth verse starts: “Soon one day gets confused with others / It’s hard to say where we’ve been when…”

In reviewing journals I have occasionally kept during the annual June rides, I was hoping to clarify the places I’ve ridden to and in which years I was able to participate. Even though I was inspired to return after the great experiences I had the first year, the locations of the rides were a much greater factor in my decisions in the early years than they would be later on.

At this point, I think I’ve pedaled in most every region of the state, and beyond. I’m pretty sure we made a crossing into one, if not both, of the Dakotas. I purposely joined a group that did a day jaunt down to Iowa and back, and the ride eventually included some significant ventures into Wisconsin.

Small towns can tend to have a similar layout and vibe. My confusion gets multiplied by the fact we occasionally revisit the same place more than once over the years. The deja vu sensation becomes a regular occurrence. Unlike some sharper minds, I have not been able to recall all the towns and in which years.

In the 23 years that have passed since that first year that I rode, my journal and photo collections only provide evidence for 14 adventures. I’m confident that it is more than that, but can’t say how many more. I’m aware of 4 years for sure when I missed the ride.

I have fond remembrances of New York Mills, Kelliher, Luverne, Walker, Park Rapids, Bagley, International Falls, Cannon Falls, Harmony, Grand Marais, Grand Portage… We decided not to try riding into Canada that year.

The roads just roll past our tires. Too many to keep track of them all. Maybe I should have taken a picture of all the water towers we’ve seen in all these years.

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Written by johnwhays

June 20, 2017 at 6:00 am

May Snow

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It snowed a little bit yesterday, off and on amongst the day-long soaking waves of cold mist that blew down upon us. I am not startled by snow flakes in the month of May, after surviving our first spring here back in 2013.

Four years ago, it looked like this:

That was quite an event for us. The Twin Cities barely received a half an inch, but the band of heavy snow to the south and east rode right over us in Beldenville.

We are much better off this year, even though it is still exceedingly wet. The view along our driveway looks much different today.

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Written by johnwhays

May 2, 2017 at 6:00 am