Friday, April 15, 2011

The Comfort of Low Light



There's something I find comforting about low light. Perhaps it's that back to the cave feeling that makes me want to settle in for the evening. The other night, while doing just that, I looked over at the corner where the lamp next to my bookcase casts a soft glow. Maybe it was the books themselves, or the pottery, or the doo-dads that I've accumulated over the years, now at home on my shelves, that made me feel cozy inside and out, but it seemed they were calling to me. I sometimes place things on a shelf and then become so used to their presence that I walk by them daily without a glance. I needed to take a closer look again.

I admit to being tired of dusting, even though I can't say I do a lot of it. I've put several things away to make it easier, but also to allow for a deeper appreciation of the things I've accumulated over the years, stuff too valuable in memory to dispose of. Rotating seems like a good solution. I need to take the time to really see those things I do have out, otherwise it's just stuff. I'm sure you've seen George Carlin's routine on "stuff."  Anyway, as long as I can see past the dust I'm good.


A few things that made the cut: a rock of unknown geology, possibly volcanic, that my dad, Duane, brought back from Alaska and a photo of him in Kotzebue, back in 1973, a salmon fishing village then, perhaps still. Alongside these are mini-binoculars that once belonged to him. The binoculars original strap disappeared many years ago to be replaced by him, perhaps in the field, with a brown shoe string. It isn't going anywhere, it's part of the memory.


There's a photo of my mother on a fishing trip to Canada, holding up a big northern. I love that photo because it so clearly shows an important aspect of who she was, outdoorsy and adventurous when she had the time. Next to it is a small photo of my older son, Trevor, and me, on a trip that included a stop at Theodore Roosevelt National Park in western North Dakota. We were en route west, on a camping trip, with a stop in the Black Hills before heading out to Colorado, Wyoming, Montana, and Idaho. It was the mid-1970's and I had just graduated from college and was ready to hit the road.


Three of my favorite books sit next to these things. There's a copy of  The Endurance: Shackleton's Legendary Antarctic Expedition, by Caroline Hamilton. That is one great adventure story. It kept me enthralled one winter, just after we turned the corner into a new millennium. Two winter's later, I was living in Santa Fe and one of my first evenings out exploring the cinematic possibilities was to see the documentary based on that book. Angelheaded Hipster, by Steve Turner sits next to it. It's chock full of photos and pages of Jack Kerouac's letters, rough drafts of his writing, stuff my dreams are made of. Then, Cowboys and Cave Dwellers: Basketmaker Archaeology in Utah's Grand Gulch, by Fred M. Blackburn and Ray A. Williamson. It's what is known as, "an indispensable guide."  I've studied it more than once to determine place and time while hiking in that area.

All of this makes for some pretty fine companionship most evenings: soft light, good books, warm memories, and on recent nights, one sweet little golden retriever named Buddy. Right now, he prefers chewing to reading, but perhaps one day he'll come around.




On the back of the photo of my dad, my mom wrote: Village of Kotzebue, Alaska. 1973. Duane flew out of here to hunt Dahl sheep in the Brooks Range.

The photo of my mom is from about the same time.

34 comments:

  1. Lovely thoughts and sharing. I have a few things like this just to keep me company.I would love to catch that fish your mom is holding.

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  2. I was just looking last night at the five items on the small table beneath the mirror in my living room. A pottery piece I bought in Turkey in 2009. A pottery piece from UAE our daughter sent us a few years ago. A small bronze I bought in Santa Fee in the last few years. A clear-framed photo of my twin granddaughters. My dad's old metal lunchbox. A cloth sculpture of an elderly couple sitting on a bench. When I'm feeling alone or flat, checking out these things remind me of the richness of life and memory.

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  3. I love the photos and your comments about them. I once caught a fish like the one your mother is holding. What a thrill!

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  4. What a wonderfully adventurous family you've been blessed with....I see you in them. Funny thing is...as I get older and look in the mirror...I not only see my mom, but actually feel a much deeper connection to her than when she was alive. I wish I had more photos of her....but the mirror will do. Your photos are wonderful...treasures, and keepsakes that are good sparks for time travel. Good to keep around even if they are dust collectors.

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  5. ooo! for several months I've been thinking about asking favorite bloggers to write up something about the treasures they have in their lives and look! you've gone and done it!

    this is getting funnier all the time, the synchronicities... can't wait to see what else is in store :-)

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  6. Steve, My mom had an uncanny ability to catch big fish and she was great at cleaning them, too. Then she fried 'em up in a pan, a little bit of heaven.

    Linda, I'm glad you shared some of your own memories. Sounds like a nice collection.

    Nancy, I bet it was fun! Thank You!

    Adrian, Thanks for visiting and commenting.

    Karen, I was blessed. Adventure was a way of life. It's interesting how we often have a deeper connection after they've passed on... We see them more as people like us.

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  7. Lovely. Once again, you point out some of the "little things" that we treasure in our lives - not the big screen TV or the imported chandelier, but a cherished picture, or a seashell, or perhaps a child's Matchbox car.

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  8. Oh yes! I love low light as well. When I am in my office at night, I love to turn on my desk light and huddle over my desk in the pool of light.

    Amazing pictures of adventures!

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  9. Li, Those are the things of true substance, the things that matter after all else fades or fails.



    BB, Just call us Wilma and Betty. :)

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  10. Lovely. I also like nice warm soft light, but for reading... not so much. That retriever sure sounds like a great addition to your evenings, Teresa. Thanks for the tour into your bookshelves.

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  11. Well, you see, there you go. I was lofted along. I too seek out dim light, and your cave comment got me wondering if it was because I was chemically coaxed out of the womb two weeks early. Then, Kotzebue, still a fishing village, the home of my new niece, who is producing our first great-nephew. We hope to see Alaska some day. And Theo.Roosevelt Natl Park, where I fed prairie dogs by hand and got myself photographed on the 75th Centennial North Dakota map (1963?); and I too was just out of college in 1974. Thanks for writing my blog post for me!

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  12. DJan, some reading works in low light and some requires more, but that glow just pulls me in and holds me. Buddy is a nice addition to my evenings and my days. Last night, not so much. Post vet visit and teh P & P went awry. ;(

    Murr, So glad to get an update on Kotzebue!
    I go antiquing once in awhile. Now I have something to look for. That map! I love it when I discover someone whose past mingles with mine in some obscure and very cool way. Awesome (I can't believe I've used the word awesome twice and in one week). And I Can't wait to find that map. There are stores in the area that carry many from that era. Now I've used antique and era in describing our past. Yikes.

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  13. I just love when people share old photos and provide descriptions, these were just terrific, Theresa! I know what you mean about soft light. My husband is a "turn off every light in the house and watch TV" type, I'm always turning on lamps. I buy the lowest wattage I can, though, because I love the soft glow!! Have a great weekend!

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  14. Joan, there's something comforting about it. I'm glad you enjoyed my old photos. Enjoy your weekend.

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  15. Thanks for these endearing memories of family. The comfort of low light reminds me of hovering under the radar screen in vital, enriching ways.

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  16. Thanks, Paul. Yes, Life lived in the slow lane...

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  17. I loved this post of your personal memories. It's who you are and your basic roots. Thanks for sharing your Mother and Father and your son. Keep us informed by pictures of Buddy as he grows.

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  18. Thank you, Manzanita, I love remembering my parents, the people they were. I become more grateful every year for the life they provided for me.

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  19. I'm a minimalist decorator nowadays, except for my pottery shelves, which are over full. I have lots packed away and wonder if I should keep it or not, much has gone away too. What adventurers your parents were and their influence I've seen through your blog has transferred to you. I used to like soft light, but my old eyes need brighter lights now.

    Last night our electricity went out unexpectedly and Gary and I found ourselves wondering what it must have been like before electricity, living by candlelight. We had a solar light outside and Gary thought to bring it inside, where it issued a soft tone on the lanai much like moonlight. We sat for a time letting the relaxing mood and breeze flow in.

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  20. Hi Linda, I like your description of the light on the lanai. It sounds like a lovely evening. Warm breezes would be awfully nice right now. We got more snow yesterday. :(

    Thank you for your comments. I love a good adventure and my parents certainly led the way.

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  21. I love tha back of your cave pondering. Lovely to meet you and your family. Thank you for sharing.

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  22. Thank you, Joan. It's good to have you back.

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  23. This was a very revealing post Teresa. Your readers know you much better now. I loved the picture of your Mom with the pike in Canada. This was very unusual for that era. It shows her adventurous side and perhaps where your adventurous spirit came from.

    Thanks.

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  24. Hi Bill, Thanks for reading. I always appreciate your comments. My parents were adventurous and I an so glad. It's made life very interesting.

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  25. GOOD STUFF!!

    I've had so many fun times in Minnesota fishing as well.

    My mom liked fishing as well but don't think she ever caught a northern.

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  26. Thanks, One Fly! Once money wasn't so tight, my parents went up to Canada to fish at least once a year. Besides always catching at least one big northern pike, my mom taught all her grandkids to fish off the dock at home. Many good meals of pan fish in cornmeal. Yummy.

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  27. I do so much agree with you about rotating things and seeing things in a different light (whether low light or not) There is always so much more visually to be discovered in things (images, objects, even people)

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  28. Alan, I agree, seeing things in a different light, perhaps especially people, makes life interesting and keeps us on our toes. Thanks.

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  29. Teresa,
    What a lovely blog post...seriously, I like that! It's amazing what we see everyday but we don't really see it. I kind of did the same thing on SAt. morning when we were having company; I thought I might dust for them so I took every single item and dusted it as well as the shelves and I fingered each item, thought where I'd gotten it, the person, the moment...reading a book of your past.
    Thanks for sharing those memories...

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  30. Tracy, Dusting does give me the time to appreciate things on my shelves. And it usually happens when company is coming. : ) Thank You.

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  31. "Beautiful, Teresa" or "Beautiful Teresa", either way is the truth.

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