September = lists.
One of the things on my list is "figure out how to blog."
I have trouble letting go of any thought or idea that feels remotely interesting -- I always feel like I should save them for something else. I think this is probably how survivors of the Great Depression feel about their rubber bands and plastic baggies.
Maybe this letting-go is something a person has to learn.
Here is a childhood memory that surfaced this week in the middle of an email conversation with Wendy, my editor:
I have a lot of memories of my dad reading to me before bed. I'm not exactly sure why, but at some point he started recording his readings on a cassette, using one of those recorders where you have to push down hard on the big plastic buttons. When he was done reading, he would rewind the tape for me and say good night, and then I would listen to the whole story again. When it was over, I would press down on the "stop" button and go to sleep. Except sometimes I let the tape play on, listening for what seemed like a long time to whatever was next - music, old stories, or just that empty static-air sound. That's what came back to me this week -- a memory of lying in my bed and listening past the end of the story, feeling slightly guilty that I hadn't stopped the tape.