Tributaries Of The Mind, As I Remember EHHS Days-

A Mini History: A view of the great Connecticut River, on it's eastern bank, in the town of East Hartford, where many of us grew up & met so many decades ago. This is my husband's most favorite place to go for walks. His family has roots in Hartford's history as far back as the great flood, of when his mother was a child growing up on Sheldon Street. She & her family attended the beautiful & historic Saint Cerious Methodeious Church, built with donations by the people who immigrated to America, fleeing hardships back in Poland. His other grandparents on his father's side, his great grand father, immigrated from Italy to Hartford, in the day of the pushcarts when Front Street, was the buzzing place of commerce.

The above view, is of a now,

with the last two stills representing to many of us aspects, of our collective memories of our lives.....

It's a beautiful sunny day in our neck of the woods. My husband & brother in law are all set to do a bit of an assessment on our snow plow. Even though it's up & running, you never really know. We've all been talking about a big storm, which may be coming our way, maybe even a blizzard. Part of the prep for this is to get outside a bit. We're about to go for a river walk downtown. We may even stop by one of our favorite haunts, or two. I am, as my friends know, a big coffee fan, & Victoria Station in downtown Putnam, offers the best. The environment is always welcoming, & one can stay for a minute, or a few hours. Also, the parents of the owners are from Italy & are involved with the business literally by hand, by making fresh baked italian biscotti on a regular basis. Certainly one of my favorites, an almost guilt free dessert, almost.

There is a poem I would like to share, as it does move through my mind like a river, & was written late last night, into the wee morning hours-

River Walk

crystal and china

all in their place

remembrances true

of that time

when no haste

springtimes and summers

and autumns in fall

libraries, dances

studying halls

not quite a grownup

and not quite a kid

thought we were awesome

though hangups kicked in

none of us perfect

maybe we thought

thought not, enough, of

what life is, and costs

grew up and traveled

had families and all

learned more, and learned some

with every new fall

reached for the apple

it's place on the branch

how it did dangle

enticing a chance

to reach out and know one

another's such years

our stories seem endless

no time to shed tears

it zoomed by so slowly

so fast like a dream

we're here now

we're here there

it's more than it seems

please pause if you're able

and share what you will

our hearts remain open

for time stands not still

**********************************

So here we are, sunny day with thoughts & remembrances like the tributaries of our great rivers. In childhood it was the Connecticut, of whom we go back & visit often, & for this day it is the Quinebaug, though smaller still majestic & charming, for this day's river walk.

Post Script*, to today's entry; My childhood friend from way back when, she & I, had a chance to talk to one another this weekend. She mentioned Mark Twain's autobiography, that has recently been published. She had read some of it, "but it is very thick", she said. Some of her friends had given it a through reading & the consensuses is, "that it jumps around a bit, but is definitely juicy". My response to that was, "If Mark Twain were alive today, he'd probably be a blogger" [& he'd also be on facebook], as that's how blogs can go. They will flow with a theme, but can also jump around a bit, a sort of journeying yet also a log. The word blog I was told by our son, comes from the two words log + web = blog & here we are!

So completes today's entry for Poetry A Muse In Motion, as we flow on...., truly like a river.

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