Sept. 28, 2003 - 7:57 a.m.
Dear Vincent,
Please accept my apologies for the tardy nature of this letter. About a week ago, the east coast was acquainted with Tropical Storm Isabelle and I, along with hundreds of others, have been bereft of electricity for quite some time now. I spent the better part of the week helping my Aunt and Uncle clean up their property from the storm.
I've a new discovery in town, which is exciting because town is so small there is rarely something new to discover. Of course, there are always discoveries like the addition of a new bike rack on the threshold of the Jones car dealership... but rarely, rarely are there big discoveries. I have happened upon a knitting and yarn store cleverly called Ewe-nique Yarns. The store is tucked right next door to a photo shop where I went to get a picture blown up and framed. The name, and the abstract yet charming sketch of a sheep on the door reeled me in. I went in for just a peek. My entrance was heralded by a metallic bell sound, and I stood rooted, barely inside the store. Two opposing walls of the store were masked behind corner to corner, floor to ceiling shelves of yarn. Knobby yarn with various colors crawling through it, and fine yarn, and fuzzy yarn and yarn that slipped and slithered through my fingers - in every color that exists. There were finished shawls and scarves and hats draped carelessly about the store, so many I imagine they insulate the whole place in the winter. In the center a table with mismatched chairs was the centerpiece for several women clustered around it, talking and flurrying their needles. Before I knew it Maryanne the store owner had me settled in a chair and knitting a blue scarf.
Hannah (the assistant) is a woman with a coarseness to her loud voice. She has sensibly clipped dark hair and as she settled me down she asked, "Now, did you say your name was Meghan or Meggy?" "Meghan." I affirmed. "Lovely to meet you Meggy" said she. Hannah knits like it is her personal burden to keep the world warm during winter. She speaks at the same speed. Sarah is a women well over the hill. She peers at her knitting through lopsided glasses and she knits very precisely. Mostly, she laughs appreciatively at Lynn's conversation.
Lynn is a white haired women with a wit sharper than her needles. But she's a bit absentminded when it comes to her knitting and often she pauses to glower down at it, grumble and encourage "I know I can, I know I can." Mrs. Taylor has the best posture of anyone I've ever met. She's a very peaceful knitter and she speaks like a person tiptoes. I suspect she frightens easily but it wouldn't be wrong to accuse her of being rather lovely. She speaks nicely of her two sons, and is famous for her prim exclamations..."oh dear!"
I am by far the youngest of the knitters. But it's soothing to sit around with those women. "What are you reading?" Lynn will ask. While Mrs. Taylor will comment "Your sweater is very becoming." And Sarah- "Meggy, you've slipped a stitch be careful." Hannah has informed me that I am a natural knitter (now I can rest easy). "Come back soon." Mrs. Taylor urges when I leave. "Keep complimenting me" I joke, "I'll come back!"
And now for your Columbus Love Analogy. I must confess Vincent, that I've cheated slightly. I ran your theory past Diane, Arthur and various others to see how it held up. From all that, this is what I've managed to piece together;
1) Concession: It is much more thrilling to get to know someone than to deal with them.
2) Concession: Nothing comes close to that initial zing. It can't be relived, regurgitated, or recreated try to mimic it though we may (and usually do.)
3) The Loop: If we don't first make an effort to retrieve the giddiness maybe we blame ourselves and not the natural progression of things for letting it lapse. We start to wonder what we've done wrong. Anytime the dynamic of a relationship changes for the less thrilling, I think we're inclined to blame ourselves. Without that backward glance, we remain convinced that the change is our fault, and not just the way things should go.
Some questions and some answears:
Did you ever notice that the less you have to do, the more time it takes to do it?
What is the difference between weeds and flowers? There is no biological difference.
Why is gold valuable? Because we say so.
Things have been quiet about here, but not quiet in the non busy sense of the expression. Right now I'm knee deep in a paper about the metaphysical poets, an extensive personal narrative for class and another paper on the Canterbury Tales. When I say things are quiet, I mean I've been spending undue amounts of time at the library. Between the library and work I seem to find my way to the end of the day in several blinks of the eye.
As if you had any doubt,
Meghan
what they said - what they will say
