Tuesday, February 1, 2011

The place is a part of my heart, memory part of me.

He came from my hometown.
He wore his passion for his woman
like a thorny crown.
He said Dolores,
I live in fear.
My love for you is so overpowering
I'm afraid that I will disappear.
Slip slidin' away
Slip slidin' away
You know the nearer your destination,
The more you're slip slidin' away.
__ Paul Simon

I made a flying trip across the state this weekend back to where I grew up. It was a pretty sad deal for me because the purpose was to help my younger sister put some things in order at my parent’s house (and my boyhood home). My Mom and Dad are now staying in ‘memory unit’ in northern Colorado at Loveland.
After renting for several months in Cortez, my parents moved into that place sometime in 1963 or 1964.
They raised my older and younger sister, my brother and me, there on the corner. And by many accounts — despite what perhaps a few of various detractors may come up with — we mostly turned out Okay.
I spoke to someone yesterday who worked for years with my father at one the garages there, and he described how Dad was always proud of his children’s education and accomplishments and talked about it all the time. He always took great pride in us, the man said. I told him that meant a lot to me.
Dolores has changed over the years, but the spirit and soul of the place is pretty much intact. I marvel at the dirt streets, the warm sandy rocks on the hillside, the river, the familiar buildings and the reduced pace of life there.
A friend of mine who works for the Denver Post claims there is some sort of time warp or universal worm-hole that drivers on State Highway 160 pass through, in the vicinity of Mancos Hill, and I wonder sometimes if that is not correct.
One thing I know for sure however, is that when I pass through that portal, I feel somehow different — like the place is a part of me.
Remembrance is a way of holding onto the things you love, the things you are, the things you never want to lose.
But sometimes, in the process of letting go, the memories and thinking about it … well, I guess to be honest, it breaks my heart.


Father Johnny Dee said...

beautifully written.

Tim Pleasant said...

Yes. Right there with you, neighbor. Went through just that with my father the year before he passed. Hang in there.

Anonymous said...

The loss of our parents, or our parents loss of their memories is a heartbreaking thing. I'm right there with you.....and trying to hang onto the family homestead a few miles south of Dolores while operating an in-home "memory unit" for my mother at my house. One day at a time.