I think more of the luminous ways that Elizabeth was alive. How alive she was when she was trying on clothes, and looking for something new to wear. How alive she was when talking on the phone, and laughing with friends. How alive she was when reading, or writing, or doing her homework. All of these things pointed to a normal long life. How ordinary in some ways she was, growing up with two parents, lots of relatives, lots of friends, a passion for photography and the world of images. She was a discerning reader, and was developing an inordinate fondness for Faulkner.
But she was an ordinary kid, wanting to eat the cookie dough off the spoon when the baking was done. She loved ice cream, and her dad allowed her a lot of it insisting it would provide her her calcium requirements.
She loved people. She went out of her way as a young girl to be friendly. In early childhood, when she was a student in preschool, she learned how to answer the phone at reception. (Was this the beginning of her lifelong love of the telephone?)
Dear Elizabeth
Just a note to say that we are having unseasonably warm weather, the cats are restless, I am off work as it is Columbus Day, and thinking, that is what I do when I have time to do it, thinking of what a fine human being you were. You wanted to give money to that homeless man and his dog when you were nine and we passed them on the way to school every day. You were making things for your friends as soon as you learned how to make things, like pillows. Your to do lists were full of items that you wanted to give to your friends, or to your boyfriend.
But besides your generosity, and open heart, you were funny, and you loved to laugh, and we had some good times watching movies together. I wonder what you would have thought of Ryan Gosling's banner year. I wonder if you would have defended Clooney's dud movie. It is a little game I play when I think of you. What you would have made of this and that that has happened since you died.
The tears have not dried.
But besides your generosity, and open heart, you were funny, and you loved to laugh, and we had some good times watching movies together. I wonder what you would have thought of Ryan Gosling's banner year. I wonder if you would have defended Clooney's dud movie. It is a little game I play when I think of you. What you would have made of this and that that has happened since you died.
The tears have not dried.
Duskywing moth on Jerusalem Artichoke
Found the flowers along the railroad tracks on the path up to the mile marker that Elizabeth would swim from. Found the moth on the flower after cutting a bouquet for our back yard. It was on the day we buried Scooter's ashes next to Whiskers' grave near the bushes where the catbirds always whined-- just north of the pond on Ackerman Rd.
Many happy swims in the tube on the pond.
Elizabeth Aakre Fund at Narrowsburg Public Library
More donations have been made to the Elizabeth Aakre book fund at the Narrowsburg Public Library. Thank you to those who have given. If you are interested in doing so, here is where to send the money:
Tusten-Cochecton Library
198 Bridge St.
Narrowsburg NY 12764
In the meantime, the librarian would like to know what books the library should buy with the money. Do you have any suggestion? Please write and comment if you do.
And thanks again for the support.
Tusten-Cochecton Library
198 Bridge St.
Narrowsburg NY 12764
In the meantime, the librarian would like to know what books the library should buy with the money. Do you have any suggestion? Please write and comment if you do.
And thanks again for the support.
Elizabeth's birthday
One year she wanted to have a party at the pier, before she was seven I would guess, or maybe when she was eight, with several friends and dozens of water balloons. We filled them in the sink in the kitchen, bombs loaded with water, bombs with their brightly colored skins whose lips were thicker and might snap while wrapped around the tap.
This was in the days when the pier was sort of shabby and had a miniature golf course and a hot dog stand, and just a little play area perfect for exploding water balloons.
The girls and boys came wearing bathing suits. How relieved we were at the bright sun that June day. Elizabeth was delighted to throw a balloon at me, but surprised when it didn't burst. You really had to heave the things, and when all the children were assembled, heave them they did.
If you haven't seen it, please read the comment under the post for Scooter above. It is very lovely, and I am grateful to whomever posted it. It is her first birthday comment today. What a great day it was the day she was born!
This was in the days when the pier was sort of shabby and had a miniature golf course and a hot dog stand, and just a little play area perfect for exploding water balloons.
The girls and boys came wearing bathing suits. How relieved we were at the bright sun that June day. Elizabeth was delighted to throw a balloon at me, but surprised when it didn't burst. You really had to heave the things, and when all the children were assembled, heave them they did.
If you haven't seen it, please read the comment under the post for Scooter above. It is very lovely, and I am grateful to whomever posted it. It is her first birthday comment today. What a great day it was the day she was born!
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| Water Bombs filled with water, from German Wikipedia |
Scooter (1998-2011)
Scooter died today. He was 13 years old, and spent his first eight years as Elizabeth's pet. Born in Sullivan County and rescued shortly afterward, he was the runt of the litter who managed to march to his own drummer. The day we drove up to the animal rescue, there were a baby deer, many puppies and other kittens contending for adoption. (Well not the fawn, but she was distracting with loveliness.) We had been told there was a kitten there whose name should be trouble. He strayed from the group. He was a biter. He got lost, and tumbled down hills.
Still, we took him home where he soon adjusted to life with the loving Elizabeth. She let him sleep in her bed. He was a great companion to all. His favorite position was flat out on your chest when you were in a reclining position. He liked to be scratched behind his ears. Like many other cats of my acquaintance, he did not really approve of reading, and did his best to prevent you from doing it by tearing the newspaper to shreds for instance, or sitting on your book while you had it in your lap and thought you had made it clear it would be better to stop back later after this chapter.
As a hunter, he would bring us shrews and mice he had caught. He had no use for bats, even though they tempted him and made him take ungainly leaps upward which proved only how difficult it was to capture a bat without a butterfly net.
When Elizabeth died, he seemed to look for her and would sometimes howl with grief. Her last note hanging on our door was "Be nice to Scooter! Play with him!" We did our best to follow her advice. His greatest pleasures were lying in bed alongside Richard, and eating fresh chicken Richard had fried. We will miss him most dreadfully.
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| Scooter with Elizabeth in 1998 |
As a hunter, he would bring us shrews and mice he had caught. He had no use for bats, even though they tempted him and made him take ungainly leaps upward which proved only how difficult it was to capture a bat without a butterfly net.
When Elizabeth died, he seemed to look for her and would sometimes howl with grief. Her last note hanging on our door was "Be nice to Scooter! Play with him!" We did our best to follow her advice. His greatest pleasures were lying in bed alongside Richard, and eating fresh chicken Richard had fried. We will miss him most dreadfully.
During the summer we had time to spend with each other without looking at the clock. We would drive and get ice cream and go to the movies in Callicoon, and take long swims. By now I would be thinking of what to get her for her birthday.
Listening to Lizzy's laugh
In the process of spring cleaning, I came upon some audiotapes recorded when Elizabeth was four years old. There is a lot of laughter and fooling around, and some singing. Besides her dad, I can't think of anyone who liked to laugh more. She could be very serious, and loved serious books, and did not shy from sad movies, but she had a light hearted side that was lovely to hear on these old tapes. At one point she was singing Ring around the rosy with her friends Khalila and Jazmyn.
Photography and Elizabeth
Starting a project in my studio lighting class about you. Projects in digital seems funny, when the subject is you. I hope you aren't too angry that they're digital. We aren't taught how to use film with soft boxes. I love you.
Cousin Nicholas
Ah Elizabeth another year without you
Without your lovely grin, your ability to download photos at the speed of light, without your found images on the walls of the your room, without you carefully groomed fingernails and your ability to be friends with males. You were passionate about Harry Potter and the Golden Compass. When you dove into a book you wouldn't come up for air until you had to eat or starve. You let the book consume you as you consumed it.
I loved reading on the porch with you toe to toe, you and me, lazing in the summertime, lost in our own thoughts, nobody breathing down our backs with some deadline.
You and I would sometimes walk along the railroad track to the one mile marker, then skid down the sooty bank to the river below where its clear shallow waters took us down stream and we could float on our backs and watch the birds. Sometimes there would be an eagle, or the merganser ducks who swam in packs herding their little ones into the shallows where they could dive for minnows.
You were a great swimmer. You were good company, funny and bright and stylish.
Sometimes after the cat has eaten his fill he walks around howling. I call this his postprandial howl.
I think that he is calling for you. Can you hear him? It is a soulful howl, and it says what I feel, left here to navigate without you.
Scooter, August 2010
I loved reading on the porch with you toe to toe, you and me, lazing in the summertime, lost in our own thoughts, nobody breathing down our backs with some deadline.
You and I would sometimes walk along the railroad track to the one mile marker, then skid down the sooty bank to the river below where its clear shallow waters took us down stream and we could float on our backs and watch the birds. Sometimes there would be an eagle, or the merganser ducks who swam in packs herding their little ones into the shallows where they could dive for minnows.
You were a great swimmer. You were good company, funny and bright and stylish.
Sometimes after the cat has eaten his fill he walks around howling. I call this his postprandial howl.
I think that he is calling for you. Can you hear him? It is a soulful howl, and it says what I feel, left here to navigate without you.
Scooter, August 2010
George Clooney
Lizzy would have liked Clooney in his new movie, The American. It is easy to watch his face, with his minor resemblance to Cary Grant both in masculine handsomeness and appeal to both men and women, for two hours. He doesn't say much. He doesn't overact. He holds our attention because we sense he is thinking when he is silent of something meaningful and important.
Elizabeth loved his ability to play a rogue hero, beginning with his part in the television series, ER. The doctor who had an uncanny ability to save children in peril had a special place in her heart. When she was eleven, she spent a night in the Children's ICU at St. Vincent's Hospital with a bit of plastic from her mechanical pencil lodged in her lung. The doctors and nurses there took great care of her, and she developed a deep respect for medicine and thought about becoming a doctor.
She loved Clooney's ability to perform in comic parts like Oh Brother Where Art Thou. She liked the way he wore his tuxedo while commandeering the other handsome actors in the Ocean series.
In The American, he plays a mysterious spy employed to make customized weapons. He is extremely good at evading the enemy, and has an eye for a pretty girl. Pretty girls have eyes for him also.
As Clooney ages, and goes beyond just being a leading man, he has developed a less kinetic, more still presence on screen. His hair is now gray. He is almost fifty, and his good looks are taking on some seasoning. He reminds me of Paul Newman in The Sting, when everyone stood up and took notice at how his acting became more natural as he aged, and his prettiness hardened into something more like beauty. When a handsome man is young, he is often taken for granted as just a pretty face.
Consoling as it is that Elizabeth died at the peak of her beauty, watching someone like Clooney, who she loved, get better and better as he gets older, makes me wish that Elizabeth could have had that chance too.
Elizabeth loved his ability to play a rogue hero, beginning with his part in the television series, ER. The doctor who had an uncanny ability to save children in peril had a special place in her heart. When she was eleven, she spent a night in the Children's ICU at St. Vincent's Hospital with a bit of plastic from her mechanical pencil lodged in her lung. The doctors and nurses there took great care of her, and she developed a deep respect for medicine and thought about becoming a doctor.
She loved Clooney's ability to perform in comic parts like Oh Brother Where Art Thou. She liked the way he wore his tuxedo while commandeering the other handsome actors in the Ocean series.
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| Clooney and Brad Pitt |
In The American, he plays a mysterious spy employed to make customized weapons. He is extremely good at evading the enemy, and has an eye for a pretty girl. Pretty girls have eyes for him also.
As Clooney ages, and goes beyond just being a leading man, he has developed a less kinetic, more still presence on screen. His hair is now gray. He is almost fifty, and his good looks are taking on some seasoning. He reminds me of Paul Newman in The Sting, when everyone stood up and took notice at how his acting became more natural as he aged, and his prettiness hardened into something more like beauty. When a handsome man is young, he is often taken for granted as just a pretty face.
Consoling as it is that Elizabeth died at the peak of her beauty, watching someone like Clooney, who she loved, get better and better as he gets older, makes me wish that Elizabeth could have had that chance too.
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| George Clooney |
Birthday
Elizabeth would have done something for her dad on his birthday. The day went by with her in the back of our minds. The last time she could she made a lovely card with pictures and sent it to R through me so that I could print it out and give it to him. There were colorful small drawings and her tiny delicate script and a mind at work that let him know she loved him.
Shadowchild by P.F. Thomese
Does love disappear when the person disappears? Where does the love go when the body is burned to ashes? It flees into similes. The body has been taken from the earth, but not all the things that remind you of it.
"Thine eyes are like the ponds in Heshbon, by the gate of Bathrabbim: thy nose is as the tower of Lebanon which looketh toward Damascus. Thine head upon thee is like Carmel..." Like, indeed, like, like. Love looks for an embodiment it can no longer find.
Narrowsburg
It is a quiet Sunday night in Narrowsburg, NY. This morning Richard and I saw a scarlet tanager flying from branch to branch eating insects I guess. All of the birds here seem to dine on insects for their main diet. We have flycatchers, cedar waxwings, phoebes, kingbirds, catbirds. There is also a ferocious mother hen wild turkey who doesn't fly or eat insects as far as I can tell; I have yet to see her chicks.Elizabeth loved the peacefulness of this part of the state, and we miss her when we come here, but we remember how we used to sit together on the big front porch and read or paint, or watch the hummingbirds bomb each other on their way to the feeder.
What I learned from Elizabeth
July 10, 2010
Elizabeth grew more sure of herself as she grew older. Her beauty was more assured, she knew how to write better, she took more daring photographs, she matured and blossomed and showed great promise as an artist, as a reader, as a student. Lenesa said she wondered what she would have brought the world. Something with giving in its nature.
Now I think of all that she gave me as my daughter. She was loving, and funny, and creative, and thorny and independent from a very early age. As the years go by, I have grown in my love for her, and I hope that I too am growing more wise and independent and blossoming in some way. Part of that has to do with being her mother. Learning from motherhood, learning from her.
Elizabeth grew more sure of herself as she grew older. Her beauty was more assured, she knew how to write better, she took more daring photographs, she matured and blossomed and showed great promise as an artist, as a reader, as a student. Lenesa said she wondered what she would have brought the world. Something with giving in its nature.
Now I think of all that she gave me as my daughter. She was loving, and funny, and creative, and thorny and independent from a very early age. As the years go by, I have grown in my love for her, and I hope that I too am growing more wise and independent and blossoming in some way. Part of that has to do with being her mother. Learning from motherhood, learning from her.
Thoughts on Elizabeth's birthday
When I think of Elizabeth, I think of her head on her cat's head, kissing his nose, her voice coming from the other room, laughing on the phone, her walking miles through the city, in her fringed suede boots, in her sneakers with the holes in them.
She was raised reading Harry Potter, listening to Harry Potter on tape, going to Harry Potter movies. She was part of the Harry Potter nation, the Harry Potter generation who are now graduating from college. She thought of her cafeteria at school as part of Hogwarts, and it did share a certain grandeur, with its open atrium high ceilinged space, with Hogwarts.
Elizabeth wrote notes in a tiny precise hand writing. She put her long straight hair up in a bun.
Today I went swimming in the Delaware, and did the back stroke so that I could look at the swallows darting for bugs. I thought of her.
She was raised reading Harry Potter, listening to Harry Potter on tape, going to Harry Potter movies. She was part of the Harry Potter nation, the Harry Potter generation who are now graduating from college. She thought of her cafeteria at school as part of Hogwarts, and it did share a certain grandeur, with its open atrium high ceilinged space, with Hogwarts.
Elizabeth wrote notes in a tiny precise hand writing. She put her long straight hair up in a bun.
Today I went swimming in the Delaware, and did the back stroke so that I could look at the swallows darting for bugs. I thought of her.
Meditation on a piece of string
A funny thing happened when I went to use the leather strip I had bought years ago to repair my raccoon fur hat. That hat was six inches high, lined with red felt, and had ear flaps with a leather thong that tied under your chin. It was really warm. But its last use by Elizabeth was in the Christmas pageant when she was asked to dress as one of the animals in the manger. She didn’t want to be a sheep or a cow. She wanted to wear the hat.
The fur itself piled high on her eight year old head said to the crowd I am a beast, not human, not vegetable or mineral, but animal, present at his birth.
She walked with the other children, four feet high most of them, down the aisles of church to the altar where the manger was set up.
Years after I wore the hat on sub zero days until the thongs broke. I bought some leather string to fix it but could not successfully anchor the piece in the mounded fur. Now the hat and Elizabeth are gone, and I only have the string.
The fur itself piled high on her eight year old head said to the crowd I am a beast, not human, not vegetable or mineral, but animal, present at his birth.
She walked with the other children, four feet high most of them, down the aisles of church to the altar where the manger was set up.
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