Hunters pass, ten things & sailing Italy

No, it is not Paris. It is Tahquamenon Falls in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. I did not take this photograph, and have no idea who did or when it was taken, but it is an excellent illustration for another true story in column form. This is the way the woodlands were on a September day, once upon a time, in a place not too distant from there, when ....

Two hunters exchange thoughts ....
Part one of two

It is a warm day for September,
and the maples still hold their leaves,
while I wait, sitting, leaning against a fallen tree.
My vigil has lasted three hours,
and another hour of light remains
until the woodland belongs to itself.

My rifle rests across its own fallen tree
while I wait, eyes closed, listening
for any sound unnatural or new.
I sense movement at my crotch,
and my eyes open, glancing down
to discover what has found me there.

Two mice, babies, roll and wrestle
just as two kittens or two puppies often do
while waiting for time to pass.
I watch them for a moment, then slow
my breath and close my eyes again as I wait
for any sound unnatural or new.

Soft footfalls come on the trail out of sight;
my eyes open; my mice are gone,
no doubt fleeing the trail walker.
Through a tunnel, through the leaves,
I see him now, big, gray, eyes darting,
he listens, then bows his head to drink.

Seconds pass as the wolf drinks, looks,
eyes glancing, head shifting, drinks,
then steps into the midst of the stream.
He lies down, rolls around, stands,
shakes, drinks again, looks behind,
then slips off through the water.

Only my eyes move while I glimpse him,
as he goes his way, continuing his own hunt,
and the sounds return to dusky natural.
Seventeen yards, the distance had been,
so close we were, yet he stopped to drink;
did he not feel my eyes upon him there?

My intrusion to the woodland is not new,
my presence left many places upon the trails;
he must have known of me that autumn day.
He must have smelled the rifle by my hands,
but did not fear, for my mind was open to him,
and clearly he knew my prey was bear that day.

Thank you, writers of the blog ....

Several people I "follow" posted yesterday. As I keep noting, I entered the "sea of blogs" for the purpose of being a reader, not a writer, although now my presence involves both. I began writing as a diversion to winter and for fun. But, the most interesting element about being here, for me, continues being able to read about the thoughts and activities of others. Thank you, to everyone who wrote on Saturday.

The Talented Mr. Ripley ....

When I am home, I generally have three or four televisions running in various rooms. If I happen to pass by one and see something that interests me, I sit down and watch. The question usually is, for how long? Last evening, I happened to walk by "The Talented Mr. Ripley." I watched for maybe 10 minutes. Whether or not I watch the entire movie sometime is not my point, rather, it is this: While I watched, the characters were cruising the coast of Italy in a 30-foot(?) sailboat. Need I say more?

Ten things on my list ....

Here are ten activities I want to do along the way, not in any particular order. There are other things I've listed previously, here are some more: Anyone care to mention their list?

Go to a Rolling Stones concert and throw my girlfriend's bra up onto the stage and start blowing kisses at the band (what the heck, any band will do).

Go to Norway and see Fridtjof Nansen's ship, the Fram (but not for long; I generally do not eat fish).

Go to Germany and swim in the Rhine River (and drink some Rhine wine).

Go to the land of the Rus (Russia; Swedish Vikings) and swim in the Volga River (ok, I'll admit it, drink some real vodka, too).

Go to the island of Tarawa in the Gilbert Atoll of the Pacific Ocean and swim in the lagoon, sleep on the beach and maybe have a dream. (see Marine Corps; World War II.)

Live by the Mediterranean for a year or two (probably southern France; guns, books and vehicles can be stored).

Ride a horse enough so that I actually became comfortable doing it (might take a lot of riding).

Get drunk in Harry's Bar (again) to relive a teenage expectation (again).

Spend a few nights in Missolonghi (or however they spell it these days), Greece.

Canoe "the river of no return" (Salmon River, Idaho; we will put this one toward the last).

Music Note: Listening to Luciano Pavarotti ....
Specifically, "The Ultimate Collection" ....
("Torna a Surriento" .... mellow mood)

How does one explain links to the past?

Fram's "somewhere in time" watch. It has a solid gold case and was made in 1883. It contains photographs of, presumably, a mother (visible) and her daughter. Remember, my photography is for illustrative purposes and not designed to be "pretty," so please don't grade it.

From "Somewhere in Time"
Until "Time and Again"

The movie, "Somewhere in Time," with Christopher Reeve, Jane Seymour and Christopher Plummer, was on television Saturday evening. I've seen parts of it before, but on this occasion I spotted it just as it was beginning. I was hooked inside the first minute or two.

The movie is based on a 1975 novel by Richard Matheson. I've never read the book. Maybe I will now. A curious element to the movie was the use of the name G. Finney as a supporting character to Reeve's protagonist, Richard Collier. Finney is a professor whose students had included Collier. As the story develops, Finney explains his theory and technique of time travel to Collier. The curious element is that the theory is darn near verbatim to that developed by Jack Finney in his 1970 novel, "Time and Again." My assumption is that there was a gentleman's agreement between the two authors, otherwise the accusation of plagiarism most certainly would have been hurled.

One of the elements of "Time and Again" is a man traveling back to 1882 as part of a secret government project, and falling in love with a woman living back there/back then. The only element to "Somewhere in Time" is a love story. A young man meets an elderly woman, eventually learning they had fallen in love in 1912. He sets out to travel back there/back then to meet her. The technique for accomplishing the feat of time travel was the same in both stories.

"Time and Again" is one of my all-time, favorite books. I don't suppose academia will ever qualify it as literature, but it is in my mind, plus, it's a fascinating story. Finney's follow-up novel was titled, "From Time to Time." It is tedious, and not nearly so good as the first book. My impression is that the sequel was composed primarily of research material Finney did not use and had left over from "Time and Again."

I cannot say I've ever fallen in love with anyone from the past, but I once felt enough of an inexplicable attraction to a photograph of a woman in an old pocket watch to the degree that I bought it. Well, it's not quite that simple. I'm not exactly a collector of old watches, but I do have five old wrist watches and six old pocket watches, the newest of which is 1923 and the oldest of which is 1877.

My "somewhere in time" watch is an ornate, barrel-style, 14 karat hunter-cased Elgin that dates to 1883. I later added a chain, a $5.00 gold piece from 1843, a pen knife and a bezel to hold the coin, in order to make myself a complete "outfit." Like the watch, all the accessories are 14 karat. (Who thinks guys don't pamper themselves?)

The woman in the photo in the watch looks to be a typical, average, ordinary, 30ish housewife from that era. There is another photo in the back of the watch that has been damaged beyond recognition other than to be able to tell it was a portrait of a curly-haired, blonde girl, presumably her daughter.

This particular watch, I was told, had been in a safe deposit box for more than 50 years, and had been part of an estate sale. Other than that, no information was publicly available. This is an instance of "lost in time," at least for a generation. I had been planning to put together such a rig for a couple of years before I actually did and, consequently, had been keeping my eyes open for a watch "right for me." The selling point on this particular item was my attraction to the woman in the photo. Explain it if you can, for I cannot.

The name "Fram" fits me just fine ....

"All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages."

William Shakespeare
"As You Like It" Act 2, scene 7, 139-143

My "stage name" is Fram. I took it because it is the Norwegian word meaning "forward" and because it is the name of a much-traveled ship.

Fram is the wooden ship generally considered to have sailed both the farthest north and the farthest south. Fridtjof Nansen purposely allowed his Fram to freeze into the Arctic ice pack in 1893, hoping it would drift to the North Pole. It did not. Roald Amundsen, the first to reach the South Pole, used the ship for his Antarctic expedition of 1910. The Fram is now housed in a museum in Norway. Some day, I should like to stand next to it for an hour or two, and listen to it whisper its story to me.

Not having a ship of my own, I placed the name of Fram on my canoe which, while not having been in polar waters, has taken me on many lengthy river and lake excursions. My canoe has granted me permission to use its name for internet purposes. The name fits both of us well.

Music Note: Currently listening to a classic rock station on the radio .... in the mood for a variety of sounds this evening ....