Perfectly Good

Here's a sculpture in downtown Philly symbolizing struggle.

Cool ceiling in the Masonic Temple, a place that embodies learning, questioning, and skepticism.

Huge monopoly pieces as art - guess you never know when the dominos will fall. I read an obituary on a Mr. John Elson (see Time Magazine 9/21/09). He was a writer and editor for Time and I was struck by a few quotes. " He once said the process of editing was the opposite of jurisprudence. Every writer was guilty until proved innocent."

As I sat on my father's inviting front porch, I read Mr. Elson's advice to writers, " Never let the search for the perfect get in the way of the perfectly good."

But when in doubt, go to the library. The North Wales Library was my retreat, my haven, and a harbor of excellent childhood memories. It's going upscale in 2010 - new digs, new computerization. Good for them, but I'll miss the old card system where I could see my name on the list inside a book. Aah, perfect memories.

Joanne

Home - a writer's dilemma

They say you can't go home again, but that's far from the truth for me. I'm lucky - I don't have angst from my childhood. Perhaps my writing suffers, but while I live in Texas, this is still "home". I grew up here. My Dad putters (sadly my mother is gone) and while he's modernized his decor, the place is a step back in time. There's still a rotary phone hanging on the kitchen wall. We sit at the kitchen table for hours, laugh, do the NY Times crossword puzzle, and move from meal to meal. It's awesome! (Yes, I'm using an exclamation mark)

Huge oak trees guard the neighborhood. They tower over the two story homes, reign down acorns, and are squirrel paradise. No leaves yet. It's been a late spring and a darn cold Easter - awoke to 37 degrees. Brr. However, once the leaves arrive, there's plenty to rake in the fall.

Crazy rhododendron forest. When these bloom, it's fabulous. I've got a friend here in Texas (Linda T.) who's berserk for this flower. She's researched it and it just won't happen in this climate. Be content with your azaleas in Flower Mound, TX, Linda.

No fences. Merely a forsythia bower separates property. Truly glorious. How can you not smile at the splash of yellow?

Finally, this picture does not do justice to history. Old stone bridge. Old historic mill. I grew up amidst Revolutionary era buildings - we're talking late 1700s here. There's a Quaker meeting house nearby. No doubt George Washington slept somewhere in the vicinity. Look up the William Penn Inn, folks. Anyway, I've lived more than half my life in Texas (how can that be?), but I've got Philly (suburb) soul. (Cue an old Hall & Oates album - yes, I love them. Oates graduated from my high school.) No wonder my writing is skewed.

Joanne