I found this piece of beach glass just about a year ago today. I originally posted the pic on May 13th, 2007. It was the year after the old coot died and I was leaving Fin Family Moominbeach after an absolutely glorious week or thereabouts up there cavorting with UKW and The Comm and Radical Betty and listening to diatribes from Green Guy. And kayaking. And it was when I picked up my kayak to fling it up on the bank before I headed back down south that I spied this beautiful piece of purple beach glass underneath it. Actually a rather rare sight these days. When I was a kid, there was a lot more beach glass. (Of course, you also had to trudge four miles to school through three feet of snow uphill both ways, so we did have our trials and tribulations.)

Anyway, I am not a very superstitious person. Or maybe I am and just don’t want to admit it. Prescient dreams anyone? Thankfully, I haven’t had any of those lately. But I picked up this piece of glass and I couldn’t help wondering if the old coot had left it there especially for me. After a couple of rather, I dunno, “interesting” traveling funeral-type years, I was kind of wondering what the next year would bring. I was struggling with the plan of being a free-lance web designer. With lots of small clients. That would be an optimum situation for the vagabond I had become during the traveling funeral years. Right? Except that I am *not* good at promoting myself. So actual paying clients were few and far between. What to do?

I know in my heart that my dad (or my brother) did not plant that piece of purple beach glass for me. I am not sure exactly why it represents a turning point in my life. I struggled with the career issue for many moons after that. But it *has* been a successful year. And I do have a job that I like and never even dreamed that I would find, and they treat me pretty dern well. [knock on wood big-time] But I clearly remember my thoughts, as unsettled as they were, when I picked up that piece of glass, and whenever I see the beachglass pic show up on my Flickr widget, I remember it all again. It’s a comfort to me to *think* that the old coot or maybe my brother planted that thing for me, even though I know they couldn’t have. Or maybe they did. Like, “Gitcher shit together, KW!”

Happy birthday, Dad, I miss you. And my brother too. And *your* brother, who wouldda been, what, 92?, in a couple of days. Sigh. The precession of the generations…

This entry was posted on Friday, May 9th, 2008 at 6:46 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.