I was the photographer! Yo mama! Yes, me. There were only three of us. It was a beautiful Saturday morning in Little Rock, Arkansas. You weren’t born yet and deLane and I were a very young just married couple. Every Saturday, we would go to your grandmother Opal’s apartment in downtown Little Rock. She would be slicing and dicing tomatoes, onions, carrots, green peppers… She’d make a big stew or a roast beef with potatoes or a big pot of chili. While pots were simmering and meats, potatoes and pies baking in the oven, we would throw 45s on the stereo in her living room and rock’ n ‘roll. deLane always wore sunglasses and those wigs were a hoot. He had worn them with a buddy in a Sigma Nu talent show. Opal could really dance. She went out dancing every Friday and Saturday night. In fact, to meet his mom, he had to take me to a dance club to introduce me to her. I thought he was kidding and it was a joke. She was so beautiful the night I met her, with her luscious black hair and “diamonds.” She was an elegant lady. I was very intimidated when I first met her. As the years went on, I found out his mother had the biggest heart in the world. She was good and kind and sweet. Both she and your dad were great dancers and when we went out, all their friends wanted to dance with them. Both Opal and deLane were loyal to their friends and loved ones and they really knew how to throw a party and to put out a great spread for all of us to feast on! Those were the very early 1960s.
When you visit artists in their studios, you have the opportunity to see what's up--literally, what's on the wall--what's happening in their heads, hearts, bodies & lives. I love seeing early work grow into itself. As a writer, most of my early drafts remain under wraps until the millionth revision & then I send it out for publication, a practice which isolates the creative process. I started this cross-genre journal as an experiment with the hopes of exploring what it means to make work when the studio door is open & friends & artists visit from time to time. Readers are invited to browse by genre or randomly, to post comments or e-mail them. Thanks for dropping by...
About Gold Thread
Many of the poems you'll find here are part of Gold Thread, a series that focuses on the subject of love—love within the context of long-term relationship, marriage, monogamy, & surviving the profound loss of divorce or death. Gold Thread is part of a larger collection titled Hidden Drive.
April 22, 2008 at 9:35 am |
I was the photographer! Yo mama! Yes, me. There were only three of us. It was a beautiful Saturday morning in Little Rock, Arkansas. You weren’t born yet and deLane and I were a very young just married couple. Every Saturday, we would go to your grandmother Opal’s apartment in downtown Little Rock. She would be slicing and dicing tomatoes, onions, carrots, green peppers… She’d make a big stew or a roast beef with potatoes or a big pot of chili. While pots were simmering and meats, potatoes and pies baking in the oven, we would throw 45s on the stereo in her living room and rock’ n ‘roll. deLane always wore sunglasses and those wigs were a hoot. He had worn them with a buddy in a Sigma Nu talent show. Opal could really dance. She went out dancing every Friday and Saturday night. In fact, to meet his mom, he had to take me to a dance club to introduce me to her. I thought he was kidding and it was a joke. She was so beautiful the night I met her, with her luscious black hair and “diamonds.” She was an elegant lady. I was very intimidated when I first met her. As the years went on, I found out his mother had the biggest heart in the world. She was good and kind and sweet. Both she and your dad were great dancers and when we went out, all their friends wanted to dance with them. Both Opal and deLane were loyal to their friends and loved ones and they really knew how to throw a party and to put out a great spread for all of us to feast on! Those were the very early 1960s.