I Remember...

Years and years ago I did a stream-of-consciousness exercise at this blog where I listed 100 things (and people) I loved. After a while I realized that I didn't love most of the people I'd listed. The ones I actually knew, I mean.

So I began to pare the list. My situation has altered and my tastes have changed. The people I actually know are mainly gone, because love is a two-way street. The people whose work still inspires me or whose work still brings me joy remain, but those people were always strangers (at best) and mere historical artifacts, and are mainly dead and gone.

I left on all of the places I enjoy experiencing and the foods I have enjoyed consuming and the films I have enjoyed watching and books I've enjoyed reading and things I enjoy using and even the single politician I admire.

“I remember awakening one morning and finding everything smeared with the color of forgotten love.”-- Charles Bukowski.

Here's one who remains on the list. Never knew her, of course. But I still listen to her work.

26: Anita O'Day.

Anita O'Day in 1957 or so. The year of my birth.

And in 1963 when I would have been six years old.