While waiting for
the muscat oolong tea to brew this morning, I stood at the stove and took note
of the magnets and the messages they hold at eye level on the side of the
fridge. An assortment typical of
me.
The calendar page I
sent to my mother and she kept on her own fridge for years, until I brought it
back again:
“In walking, just
walk. In sitting, just sit. Above all, don’t wobble.” (Yun-Men)
Keeping the page
from wobbling, Matisse’s genteel onions.
A magnet from
Sambo’s on the beach in Santa Barbara, a favorite place in college which two
friends and I would visit after driving down the coast all night. I was surprised three years ago to
learn it’s still there—the last of the Sambo’s line, surely, after the name and
its namesake became un-PC.
The “traffic jam in
Teesdale” magnet, showing a herd of amiable northern English sheep blocking the
road. That from my summer doing
archaeology (and visiting castles and Lindisfarne) up near Hadrian’s Wall, before
discovering Yorkshire curd tarts.
John Lennon in a
t-shirt with “New Mexico” slyly laid over it.
A postcard of a
lovely blue-footed booby.
A magnet of one of
Joseph Cornell’s parrots.
A magnet of the
Venetian lion with wings and book.
Too many more to
number or recount.
image: Henri Matisse, Still Life with Pink
Onions
.jpg)
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