Sachs Covered Bridge; Adams County, PA

Sachs Covered Bridge; Adams County, PA
Sachs Covered Bridge; Adams County, PA

Friday, May 12, 2017

Braided Rugs

I hope it's not too late for me to realize that I would like to be back in Gettysburg at this time of year while it's raining. I'm thinking now of visiting my grandparents near the end of a May and I was picked up at the Frederick bus station by my grandmother, a cousin, and a great uncle called Uncle Dump--the memory of finally returning to Gettysburg after being away for awhile as we turned up the Emmitsburg Road and then stopped at the old Visitors Center, where I browsed books. The warmth of my grandparents' home with the circular and oval braided rugs and a smell that I can't bring back. Sliced deli meats wrapped in white paper in their refrigerator fascinated me then because we almost never got that kind of thing where I grew up. The braided rugs also fascinated me when I was a little kid and we still lived in Pennsylvania. I used to try to roll marbles along the grooves, but it was the alternating colors--natural colors: browns, tans, greens, cream--that attracted me. I'm now reminded to look for one of these for my apartment in Baltimore.

I'd planned to be back in Gettysburg this week to attend a talk by an advocate against child sexual abuse and see my grandmother. But I've had to stay in Madison to catch up on grading and to sort through what to take to Baltimore. By not attending I feel that I've let her down and lost a chance. So I tried to make up for it by contacting on Thursday more people in the area to encourage them to attend. The rain and temperatures in the 50s yesterday were about the same as that time.

The rain in April and May also reminds me of walking back in the rain from a showing of the Umbrellas of Cherbourg at the National Gallery of Art. I wonder if my sadness then came from an unconscious awareness of something somewhat like it about to happen to me. And then the rain as I drove through Connecticut back from doing research one April in Boston. That's when a jazz piano work I've liked since I was in Kansas, Peace Piece by Bill Evans, took on the painful reminder feeling it now has for me.