"When dawn spreads its paintbrush on the plain, spilling purple... ," Songs of the Pioneers song from TV show "Wagon Train." Dawn on the mythic Santa Fe Trail, New Mexico, looking toward Raton from Cimarron. -- Clarkphoto. A curmudgeon's old-fashioned newspaper column, cross-breeding metaphors and journalism and art, for readers in 150 countries.
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Memories are like the shadows of drift wood on white sand at the seashore. The gnarled reality of life is distorted over the hours and years, as the shapes and colors of the sand and the changing light casts two dimensional shapes that are never quite the same. They change all the time, affected by the present and the past and by forces not under our control. The shapes, the shadows, the memories, are sometimes distinct, sometimes vague, always there, captivating in their shape alone as well as what they represent. Even in ugliness there is beauty in the right light and time.