People Whom I Have Known. People Whom I Have Loved

I was thrilled to see an article about Missippy James in the local paper today. It was a loving tribute to the guitar player and to the man and it spoke mostly about how he passed on his knowledge to so many students who came to him to learn how to play the blues. 

I am posting these two photos, mainly for the pictures of James. I can't help but wonder what he would have thought about being in the paper. He was such a quiet man. Still waters ran deep with that one. But oh, the stories he could tell and would tell if he was in the right place at the right time. I wonder how many people knew he was in the Navy as a young kid? He told me once about getting his wisdom teeth pulled by the dentist onboard the ship he was serving on. 
"He had his knee in my chest," said James in his Mississippi drawl. 

I was so very glad to learn that he'd had a partner for the last ten years. I did not know that but it comforts my heart. 

Today was a very laid-back day. I made the Sunday brunch meal and I realized that it was the first "traditional" breakfast, as in with eggs and stuff, I'd had since that Waffle House breakfast on my birthday. And it was good. 

Mr. Moon tried to work outside for a little while but soon came back in, sweating through his clothes. "That was not fun," he said. 

"Oh really?" I answered. 
I'm so witty like that. 

Then he got to work on fixing the sink in the kitchen bathroom which has pulled away from the wall. This is the kind of thing that has driven him crazy, being left undone. 

He's going to have to go to town to get supplies to do the repairs. He thought perhaps he had what he needed in the garage, but alas, he did not. Again I displayed my rapier wit by saying, "Are we surprised?" to which he answered, "Of course not."
It is a rule and a law that no matter how many tools and supplies you have in your garage, you will not have what you need for the project you are working on. 

The Wacissa has been a source of relief and comfort for both of us lately and we planned a trip down there today. We knew it was Sunday and apt to be crowded but we figured the worse case scenario would be that it was so noisy and full of wild kids that we'd just take a quick dip and come on home and best case scenario would be that it wasn't that bad and we could set up our chairs and the umbrella and just sit and dream and take dips when we felt like it. 
We did not consider a third possibility which was that it would be reasonably peaceful, we'd set up our little river camp/nest and then it would rain. 
And of course that's what happened. 
The sky over the river was baby blue with cottony clouds and the sky behind us was black and purple. And gray. I mean, the very definition of ominous. But wasn't the wind blowing in such a way that the storm would go north of us? We trusted that it was. 
So when it began to fork lightening in that demon sky, and thunder began to rumble, we packed up and put our things in the trunk and just sat in the car, hoping to wait it out. And then... it began to rain. 

Oh well. We came on home but we'd had one good plunge into the cold water and that can be enough if that's all you get. 

I saw a man at the river whom I think I recognized. Or at least, recognized the genes in him. This is another hippie story from my early days here in this area. I met a woman and her husband who had a son named Tai and when I met her, she was pregnant with another child. They lived in a house the husband had built with the help of friends on a tract of land where other friends of mine had bought their own pieces of land and constructed little cabins for their families. Not a commune, but a place where like-minded friends decided to move to and make a life. The houses that were built were, to put it mildly, very, very small. Running water was a major plus. So was electricity. Bathrooms? Oh please. A good out-house was the answer to that necessity. No one had any money. 
But it was a sweet place and folks helped each other out and the kids ran in packs together in the woods and gardens were grown and everyone pitched in to help everyone else. 
So. This woman, Tai's mama, was the most peaceful person I'd ever met. To the point where I had a hard time believing that anyone could be that serene. Her husband, her man, was much older than she was and he was a very interesting character. His backstory was that he'd been a jazz musician in San Fransisco and hard drugs may have been involved and a quick move to a far away place may have been indicated due to, um, legal issues, and now here he was in North Florida living under an alias with this sweet, loving, serene woman who adored him beyond all measure. And by the time I knew him, he was a sort of Bodhisattva, going through his life with knowledge and skills acquired the hard way, but living under the radar quietly and with grace. 
The woman became a friend of mine and a big influence on my life. She introduced the idea of home birth to me, having had her first child at home, followed by more home births as her redheaded sons came to her, one after the other.

She, in turn, had been influenced by the Maya women in Tulum where she and her man often visited. In those days, Tulum was a place where there was nothing but jungle, the ruins, and a small village and the Maya welcomed them into their community with their gentle ways and my friend observed how they gave birth and decided that is how she wanted it to be for her. 
And so it was. Her husband delivered all of their babies, including a breech birth that I attended in the loft of their little cabin. I think that was their third child. Afterwards, she told me that birth had been the only one she'd had where she'd experienced any real pain. 

She was with me when I labored with Hank, and with me when I labored and had May.

I believe she had five sons, although it could have been four. My memory is not accurate on this detail. But all of her sons looked very much like her and their father. The last child born came after her husband died. It was the hardest, saddest thing. We were no longer close by then, but I went to his burial and life celebration. They had gotten permission for him to be buried on their property and so he was laid to rest in that place where he'd found a second life with this peaceful woman and their children. 

I believe the man I saw today at the river may have been one of their sons. His hair was not noticeably red under his ball cap turned backwards, but the woman he was with had flame-red hair. They had a little girl, just past toddler age, and she followed her daddy everywhere he went and he did not leave her for a second. The quiet way he moved, the structure of his face, his peaceful eyes- they reminded me of my friend. 

He may not have been her son, but he could be. I think he was.
The last time I saw my friend was in Publix and she looked as frail as a strand on a spider web. She'd never had an ounce of fat on her but this was beyond that. She told me that her heart was not good which was so crazy to hear. This is the woman who raised two of her step-grandchildren, who, after her husband died, went to Tampa and found her alcoholic father on the streets where he lived, brought him home and tended him until he died. 

How could anything be wrong with her heart? 

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Well. Thank you for coming along with me on another part of the story of my life. I feel as if I have been holding that story for a very long time. There is more to tell, of course, but this will do for now. 

Love...Ms. Moon