"Gallantly Streaming"

"It's a grand old flag, it's a high flyin' flag!" I remember Barbara Emily, about three years old, punching out the words and soaring on the tune while in her car seat in the back of my little white Subaru Justy. You know how three year olds are: once they find something they like, they will repeat it for days on end; sometimes only one word will catch their attention as in, "Flag, flag, flag." I kept my eye on the road but also I began thinking (didn't want to interrupt her) about flags, all the flags of countries I had lived in with Brazil the only one I remembered. Prayer flags and early American flags are my cup of tea. I like the way prayer flags look like colorful washing on a clothesline. Delving this week into the history of prayer flags I found this quote:

"When raising prayer flags proper motivation is important. If they are put up with

the attitude 'I will benefit from doing this' – that is an ego-centered motivation

and the benefits will be small and narrow. If the attitude is 'May all beings

everywhere receive benefit and find happiness,' the virtue generated by such

motivation greatly increases the power of the prayers."

I have often wanted to make prayer flags. The closest I came was in Roanoke during Mimsey Camp when B.E. and Henry made paper stars of all sizes and we strung them on a wire and gave them the official title of, "String of Stars." They have been the first thing to go up whenever I have moved. I think my summer project will be poetry prayer flags. I will make seasonal ones. Wordsworth for Spring; Shakespeare for Summer; Basho for autumn; Rosetti for Winter. All flower related, of course. Tibetan flags use cloth. I am partial to cloth but I will probably go with paper as I can then attach ornaments. It's the age of 3-D and 4-D so why not have my flags a poppin'? There will have to be some musical ritual involved, too. First thing every morning I might just look over and quietly sing the familiar strain, "It's a grand old flag. It's a high flyin' flag and forever in peace...." Join me in the singalong?

....may summer projects be fruitful for you and bring blessings of peace...

"En Un Lugar de la Mancha" and Other Destinations

My father's favorite book was Don Quixote. I could walk into a room to show The Daddy my scratch copy of an essay and like clockwork, he would say, "'En un lugar de la mancha.'" He did this so often that as a parting gift upon hearing of our transfer orders, the chauffeur furnished by the State Department in Cali took his meager savings, went up to Bogota, where he bought two oversized volumes, leather-bound, gold trimmed of Don Quixote. My dad was dismayed by this gesture knowing how much trouble and expense Nestor had gone to. My mother exclaimed, "He can barely feed his family!" We carted those heavy books through dozens of moves until, after the death of my parents, I felt I needed to find the set a home. I sold them in Durham to a passing antiques dealer from New England. My dad obviously had a favorite place on the mancha of Cervantes' imagination. One of my mother's favorite places was the Pelican Diner on St. Pete Beach. I like places with good talk and a charitable aspect such as Gone CoCo Boutique tucked into the historic City Market building in Roanoke, Virginia where, as they say at Jan Hus Presbyterian Church, "You are welcome before you arrive." In Manhattan, I like Manna's with its plentiful hot/cold buffet in East Harlem. Not only is the "soul food" extravagantly tasty but it is a boon to poor people because after its discount card is punched ten times, one receives a $10 "free plate." The chatter is great and soulful, too. The cross-section of patrons is heartening: a vet from the Iraq War in a wheelchair, an old couple saying grace, inspectors who know good food without testing it, a "regular" with her small cart bearing the bargains she found at Pathmark. The space holds only a few tables but the turnover is continuous. I've heard a lot of complaints about McDonald's. I turn a deaf ear. Here's why: in Eureka, California, my Sunday trek was to Mickey D's for pancakes and to see my friends--a washed up Old Salt with Parkinson's and a Downs Syndrome young woman who proudly boasted every time I saw her, "I been here 14 years!" I wondered when 15 rolled around if she would remember. It took only a week or so to learn. He "swabbed the decks." She kept the tables spotless and the condiments tidy. She was diligent about her break, watching her watch, struggling to complete easy word finder puzzles. How delightful to have someone hire these excellent workers! Personally, I have too many favorite lugares, too many books to single out one. Currently, I'm reading Crow Lake, a tale of Ontario, Canada. It reminds me of The Crow Island Journal about a man, Clinton Trowbridge, and his disabled wife, Lucy. They bought an island off the coast of Maine and together with their four children (as I recall) built a house. Lucy's illustrations certainly put this haven in my Top Ten. Speaking of islands, I often go to Roosevelt island on the jaunty red bus. I walk towards the lighthouse, past a magnificent rose garden. It's lovely but the best part is a cat rescue house. If only Google could translate what those cats have to say about their travels! Take a peek at "Island Cats" when you have a chance. And don't forget to tell me of your special scapes.

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...may the blessings of evocative haunts be yours this week...