My Imaginary Pretty Brain Pictures

 Sometimes the words I read will slap me and yell for my attention. It will get into my head. Some startling thought or image. 

I am reading M Train, a sort of diary by the punk rock singer, Patti Smith.She writes quite well and M Train seems to me a poetic balance between between her days of hope and her days of melancholia. 

She wrote the line below and it is in me. In my imagination it was written three hundred years ago as my ancestors boarded ships and sailed west. 

"I was thinking of French time traveling children with Scottish accents breaking the hearts of the future."

Two days after writing this I dreamed that Patti Smith and I were at a party with people from my past. It was a retirement party of sorts. 

Visions and Dreams and Johanna

 A note to my grandaughter who came to the earth on 3 March 2022. 

I may name my banjo after you, we'll see. I have been trying to contrive a name for it. It has five strings and you are my fifth grandchild. That is a stupid connection but it's all I have. 

Before you were born I was at your house, seeing your brother and checking on your mom. She was a day or two away from going to the hospital for your birth. As I was leaving she pulled me close in a hug and said, "Dad, would you say a prayer for me?". I stood there in the entryway, among a stroller, winter boots, scarfs with the woman I first held as a tiny baby decades ago. 

I don't know exactly what I prayed for that day when I put my arms around your mom. It was a bit about her and a bit about you. But I do know this. All of the deep things I have ever wanted for my daughter were realized in that little hall. My little girl, when deep into womanhood, asked me to pray for her. To that same Lord that she worshipped as a toddler. That is what I wanted when I first held her, when I first whispered the name of our Lord in her tiny ear. That when I was old that she would hold as tightly to Christ at 40 as she did at 4. As I was driving home I had this sense that every dream I ever dreamed and every prayer I ever prayed for her had been answered in that moment.  

On the 5th day of March, when you were two days old I held you for the first time. Like your mother, the first word you heard from my lips was "Jesus". The first time you felt my hand, it was to trace the sign of the cross on your forehead. 

Johanna, your safe arrival on earth was an answer to many prayers. Many more prayers are being lifted up for you now. It is my deep desire that when your mother and father are my age, that they will thank God for the faith they see in you. That does not waver. That does not tremble.