#this will also be a postcard so... stay tuned if extras are left over

[asturlavi]

nights at the waystone inn

#(redraw) #this will also be a postcard so... stay tuned if extras are left over #kvothe #bast #kkc #kingkiller chronicle #name of the wind #notw #kote

[ohsomanylovelywords]

Eleanor & Park: Those Infamous Three Words

As an avid reader of fanfiction and a writer myself, I appreciate ambiguity in storytelling, and I understand Rainbow Rowell’s decision to not reveal the three words Eleanor sent to Park (read her FAQ). That being said, I’ve spent an unnecessary amount of time thinking about this and I’m 80% sure I’ve figured it out. In this essay, I will

The obvious assumption is “I love you,” despite the fact this is inarguably the least likely answer, considering the Eleanor we know and love. Eleanor thinks she has seen what “love” looks like. It looks like her mom staying with Richie, their abusive step-father. It looks like being kicked out and abandoned by her family, forced to leave her own home. Too often, it looks like possession and selfishness and anger. Or fear. But sometimes, it doesn’t. Sometimes, it looks like her mom letting her move back in and saving some of her most treasured possessions in a garbage bag. Sometimes, it looks like her mom sacrificing their extra money to buy her new jeans (and, without questions, washing them in the tub after they have been stuffed down a toilet). It might even look like Park letting her read and borrow his comics, making her mixtapes, and lending her batteries to listen to them. Sometimes, love means putting someone else before yourself, no matter the inconvenience and regardless of what others might think. But, according to Eleanor, love like that doesn’t last. Eventually, it has to stop.

Throughout the story, she treats herself like a burden or a person easily discarded. Her father left them. Her mom ignores her. Even the people who were willing to take her in quickly grew annoyed by her presence. And how many times does she assume Park will simply move on, get tired of her, and finally realize she was never worth it in the first place? But, on the other hand, how many times does he try to prove her wrong? He proves his love through physical gifts, physical affection, and especially, affirmation. When she doubts his attraction to her, he consistently assures her of how strong his feelings actually are. When Eleanor tells him to stop talking about their future together, he says, “There’s no reason to think we’re going to stop loving each other...and there’s every reason to think that we won’t,” but Eleanor thinks, “I never said I loved you.” The emphasis is on “said.” If she never says or even lets herself think “I love you,” then maybe she can avoid being heartbroken when Park inevitably stops loving her back. She is convinced their relationship will end, so she denies her own feelings. For Eleanor, saying “I love you” would be opening herself up to hope, only to be disappointed again.

Park tells her he loves her over and over, even though she never says it back. When he drops her off at her uncle’s house, he tells her he loves her at least three more times, but she just wants him to say goodbye, to admit this could never work and they probably won’t see each other again. He asks her to call him and write to him, but she consistently deflects and changes the subject. She forces herself to get out of the car and to not look back. She is afraid to say “I love you,” but she is more afraid to love him only to lose him again.

He sends her letters and mix tapes for an entire year, without response. Eventually, he stops. Then, he receives a postcard, the same one he sent to her the night he dropped her off. Upon reading the three words, he sits up and he smiles. With just three words, he regains hope.

While rereading, I was on the lookout for short phrases important enough to be repeated. Possibilities: “I don’t like you”/ “I need you” / “I live for you” / “I want you” / “I miss you” / “You saved my life” / “I’m yours.” The phrase “I don’t like you” is a sort of inside joke between them, but it is four words and would also be very cruel out of context. Though, it could essentially mean “I don’t like you, but maybe I love you.” The others are said or thought during crucial moments and conversations in their relationship, though again most are not actually three-word phrases. If not “I love you,” “I miss you” is certainly possible. They often expressed missing each other even when they were still seeing each other every day, and at this point, they had not seen each other or even talked for over a year. Though, based on Park’s reaction (and Eleanor’s hesitancy to use generic or “sappy” phrases), I think the three words would be something else.

When he recognizes her handwriting on the postcard, Rowell writes, "It filled his head with song lyrics,” so the three words might be a song title or lyrics. Poems and song lyrics are both explicitly mentioned as words Eleanor has memorized. (Eleanor also memorized his phone number, so technically she could have just written: “Call me” followed by her new phone number, but a number is not really a word, and she is unlikely to have a private line or to risk her aunt and uncle answering the phone.) Possibilities: “How Soon is Now?” by The Smiths (“I am human and I need to be loved just like everybody else does”) / “Bad” by U2 (“I’m wide awake”) / “Love Will Tear Us Apart” by Joy Division / “Two of Us” by The Beatles / “Caged Bird” by Maya Angelou (“Sings of freedom”). Obviously, some of these are four or even five-word phrases, so most were immediately rejected. If it were four words, I might guess “How Soon is Now?” but there are few three-word song lyrics significant and identifiable enough to qualify.

The poem Eleanor memorized by Maya Angelou mentions clipped wings (“His wings are clipped and his feet are tied so he opens his throat to sing...and his tune is heard on the distant hill for the caged bird sings of freedom”), and in Park’s reaction to reading her three words, Rowell writes, “Something heavy and winged took off from his chest.” I think this allusion could be deliberate, as the poem is explicitly mentioned in the text, which makes it significant. The teacher specifically tells his students to choose a poem “that speaks to you" and “will help you speak to someone else.” Park is mesmerized by Eleanor’s recitation of the poem, which sparks his desire to get to know her, despite having never talked to her before this. That being said, the lines of the poem are omitted from the text, so no three-word phrase stands out and the reader is unlikely to make this connection unless they are familiar with the poem. Though, this allusion could call back to his wonder at Eleanor’s ability to speak and write words in a way that makes them feel alive. 

After exhausting all of these possibilities and deeming them unlikely, I decided to rely on the surrounding context. How do we leave Eleanor before Park receives the postcard? We are told she has received countless letters and postcards and packages from Park, all unopened and unread. She tries to write him a letter to explain, but everything is too true and too hard for her to write. The scene ends with her whispering to herself, “Dear Park...just stop.” In Eleanor’s last chapter, Rowell writes, “It was bad when the letters came every day. It was worse when they stopped.” Finally, she wonders if it is too late to respond. Considering the postcard Park receives, we know she eventually finds three words that ring true for her resent feelings.

And so, I have come to the conclusion she may have written, “Park, don’t stop.” The future is still uncertain, but she realizes she doesn’t want him to stop and she is not yet ready to give up hope that they will meet again. This could also fit with the song lyrics theory. Though they never explicitly talked about Journey, “Don’t Stop Believin’” came out in 1981, only five years before they met. Regardless, I think whatever the three words are, they represent hope for Eleanor and Park.

Disclaimer: None of the quotes belong to me. Also, I do not expect nor desire confirmation from the author, but after rereading the book via audiobook (and I must say, the voice actors did a wonderful job), I just really needed to get out all of my thoughts.

TL;DR I think the three words Eleanor wrote on the postcard she sent him were “Park, don’t stop” because it would give Park hope, but seems more likely than “I love you” or any of the other three-word possibilities I’ve considered (”I miss you,” “I want you,” “I need you,” “Park, I’m yours,” “You saved me,” song titles/lyrics, etc.)

#rainbow rowell #eleanor & park #eleanor and park #literally this is as long as an essay #so feel free to read the tl;dr #if this gets even 1 like I'll be excited #I was challenging myself to write an essay about a book I enjoyed #so I could remember how I used to do it #and relate better to my students #so I really enjoyed analyzing this book #my meta #honestly so proud of myself for finishing this #it has been in my drafts for months #and this actually required a lot of rereading and internet searching

[defenestram]

Theo didn’t understand how Imogen had managed to festoon the entire restaurant that she worked at with little eggs filled with candies for the little ones without stooping to thievery. She knew what waitresses tended to make, and she knew that Imogen’s boss sometimes stuck his sticky fingers into what she made in tips from her regulars, if only because he graciously allowed Imogen and her ailing father to live in the crummy apartment above the shop.

The restaurant itself was also a bit of a hole, but Imogen had managed to make it cozy during her years of work. Every instance of decor -- from the paintings on the walls to the carefully-hemmed cushions of the atrium’s couch -- screamed of a certain dark-haired woman who could control plants. Today, the children toddled to and from the restaurant while their parents enjoyed coffee at the tables, and every once in a while, there was a squeal of glee as a child found an egg filled with candies hiding in a potted plant, or near a window trimmed with nearby ivy.

Theo shot her friend a glance, and received a wink in return. So, even the plants were in on the tricks today. Theo laughed and pushed her glasses onto her head before sinking onto a stool near the counter. No, she didn’t know how Imogen managed to make ends meet, but she was glad that she did. She was obviously enjoying herself, and even with the heavy tray of plates on her hip, Imogen’s smile was radiant enough to wash over everyone and brighten their day.

Theo often thought of kidnapping her friend and running away with her on an adventure. They could sing for tips each night, stay in a new city each week, and Theo would be happy to watch the lines of worry drift away from her friend’s face.

But Imogen would protest. She had a father to care for, and she had to make ends meet, and she had to make sure that Bryn and Saint Jon didn’t murder one another in a pissing contest… or that Saint Jon didn’t just off himself doing whatever it was he did each night that had him tumbling into Imogen’s house reduced to a bloodied mess.

Theo cursed him for it, if only for adding extra stress into the life of someone who didn’t deserve it. So concentrated was she in her thoughts that she almost missed Imogen’s presence until she noticed her fingers on the bartop.

“Coffee, black, and a short stack with enough syrup for two plates, right?” Imogen recited Theo’s order with a beaming smile and didn’t hesitate to scrawl it down on an order sheet before turning around to plaster it for the chef to make. Finally free of customers and orders to deliver, Imogen leaned against the counter and sighed in relief.

“Busy morning?” Theo asked with a knowing grin. Every morning was a busy morning for Imogen, but now that she had made Easter Egg hunt Sunday with a special on Eggs? The place was hopping, and although there was something happy in the business, Theo couldn’t help but feel sympathy pains in her feet for the friend who would be up on hers all day.

“Always is here,” Imogen replied, her lips still curved in a cheery smile. “Oh, you’ve got a message by the way.”

Theo frowned, only to realize that the leaves of a hanging plant were stretching down towards her, with the offering of an egg. Wary of the patrons who might notice, Theo snatched the egg away from the plant, only to catch Imogen’s look of warning, prompting her to turn her head and murmur a thanks before she looked at the gift in her hands.

The egg was plastic, but it had been painted a dusty rose pink. Theo turned it over and over in her hands so that she could see all the tiny, delicate paintings across the surface -- musical notes, a tiny Les Paul, a little recreation of the pack of postcards and letters her mother had left her, the car she drove, her favorite aviator sunglasses, and at the bottom there was a tiny drawing of a blonde in a leather jacket standing hand-in-hand with a brunette in flowing skirts. There were no words -- Imogen would have misspelled them and literacy was not her best suite -- but Theo didn’t need them to know what her friend meant by the gift.

Imogen had already left to attend to another table, so Theo could only watch her friend from a distance as she smiled at a customer, as she stood haloed by the sunlight of the nearby windows, as she leaned down to offer crayons to children who had tired of hunting for eggs.

Theo wanted to take the weight from her shoulders, wanted to steal her from the life she’d been dealt and let her laugh, even if it was just for a weekend, even for just a day.

“Come run away with me,” Theo wanted to say, but she knew Imogen would shake her head with that sad, sweet smile.

“I’m needed here, but thank you, Theo, it’s sweet of you to ask,” Imogen would say, even as she dreamed of meeting new plants or drawing unfamiliar horizons, or singing the melodies of songs while Theo plucked a tune for her on a guitar.

Girls like Imogen needed stability… their love needed roots to flourish and grow, and Theo? Theo was inconsistent as a breeze -- here today, gone tomorrow.

It could never be, but Theo held onto the egg she’d been gifted as if it were precious as jewels, as dear to her as her mother’s letters.

#character: Theo Potter #character: Imogen Elliot #I originally wrote Theo as bi and Theo has had a relationships with men before but I think her preference is shifting more towards women? #Also this was supposed to be platonic but damn... Theo is pining like WOAH #the gods project

[postcardist]

E42: Postcardist News Network

This is Frank Roche for the Postcardist News Network reporting today’s postcard news.

Today’s top stories:

Tired of the post office shredding your postcards? Now you can pay for the privilege with Hello from Banksy, a postcard that has to be shred to be read.

The Super Bowl of U.S postcard shows opens November 16 and 17 at the York International Postcard Expo in York, Pennsylvania.

 It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas…at least in North Pole, Alaska, where you can get a special cancellation for your holiday postcards.

And where else can you get an original by some of the world’s leading artists? The auction for Art on a Postcard is where.

Plus…more. Postcard books I read in October. And more. Stay tuned.

******

Welcome to Episode 42 of The Postcardist Podcast. After our terrific storytelling episode last week on the Halloween Episode, I thought I’d try a little something just for fun. There’s a lot of postcard news out there…

  Here we go….

  Hear that? It’s the sound of Bansky’s Girl with Balloon being shredded right after the gavel fell at a Sotheby’s, where the framed drawing sold for over one million dollars. As soon as the purchase was final, a Banksy confederate activated a switch that made the drawing slide down through the frame and get sliced into a hundred strips.

  Now…you can get a postcard inspired by that fine art prank. Designer Lesha Limnov created a postcard for the Rijksmuseum called Hello from Bansky. It looks like a miniature, framed piece of art. But pull at a tab on the bottom, and the precut postcard comes out in shreds.

As you slice the postcard to ribbons, what’s left behind is a small, secret message, filled out by the postcard’s sender. Their concept: Destroy the masterpiece and leave your message inside the postcard. 

Cost is $10 on the Shuba site…alas, they’re out of stock, but I’m first in line to get the collection.

  Next up on the Postcardist News Network is the York International Postcard Expo on November 16 and 17.

Recognized as the largest antique postcard show in the country, the show will feature dealers from more than 30 different states and Europe and new dealers have been added this year bringing such specialties as Art Nouveau, Real Photo, Russian, Holiday cards and U.S. and foreign views.

Visitors can look forward to viewing millions of postcards. Postcards of every artist, country and topic from any era can be found at the York Fairgrounds Postcard Show. For more than 25 years Mary Martin Ltd. has hosted its annual postcard show held at the York Expo Center in York, Pennsylvania.

Plus, I’ll be there. With a microphone. Talking to dealers and collectors and the who’s who in postcarding. Maybe I’ll get a special cachet or two.

  Our third story is about the North Pole. Or more specifically, the US. Post Office at North Pole, Alaska. They’re already gearing up for the holiday season with their special Letters from Santa postmark. How this affects us in the postcard community is this: there’s a special North Pole Holiday cancellation you can get in the United States if you send postcards to the location.

According to the USPS postal bulletin,  Customers wanting a special holiday postmark need to do the following (and I’m paraphrasing for the Postcardists): 

Personalize your postcard, seal it in an envelope and print addresses on the postcards.

Place a postage stamp on each postcard.

Mail all addressed postcards together in a larger envelope to

NORTH POLE HOLIDAY CANCELLATION

POSTMASTER

4141 POSTMARK DR

ANCHORAGE AK 99530-9998

Myself, I’m going to send a bundle of Christmas postcards with great stamps and address them to people on my list. And I’m going to ask them to place the North Pole postmark on the cards, then drop them in the don’t-overspray bin…and there you. Go. The last day the USPS recommends sending cards or letters is December 8.

  Also..for postcardists in the U.S there are a number of special cancellations in certain cities such as REINDEER STATION in Rudolph, Ohio and Santa Claus Station in Santa Claus, Indiana.

Also, those of you who like sprayed on cancellations should know the USPS will apply a Happy Holidays cancellation with Santa in his sleigh from Saturday, Dec. 1 to Friday, Jan. 4. If it’s anything like the Thinking of You cancellation, it might be hard to discern.

    Our final story on the Postcardist News Network is about the secret auction, Art on a Postcard, that runs now through November 15. Art on a Postcard presents a unique chance to own a mini masterpiece by an artist who would normally be well out of most people's reach. Certainly mine.

The auction features some of the most collectable and interesting contemporary artists practicing today, such as Marina Abramović, Humphrey Ocean, Rob and Nick Carter, Martin Yeoman, Vanessa Jackson, and Maria Kreyn.

Here’s the catch: But you'll never know who you're bidding for, as all of the work is anonymous until after the sale. You can get involved online at www.artonapostcard.com. Simply browse through the different works on display and choose your favourites to bid. Whoever bids the most, wins. The auction ends at midday on November 15, 2018.

Art on a Postcard raises money for The Hepatitis C Trust, so it's all for a good cause.

  That’s the news.

  Finally, this month I read a bunch of postcard books I’d like to recommend. The include:

  Atget: Postcards from a Lost Paris by Benjamin Weiss

The Postcard Age: Postcards from the Era of World Wars (The Leonard A. Lauder Postcard Archive) by Jozefacka, Klich, Kreinik and Weiss

Paper Jewels from the Raj by Omar Khan

Postcards from the Boys by Ringo Starr. There’s a reason I mention this one I’ll get into soon.

  Meanwhile, there are a couple extra bits of postcard news. Variety announced that Jeffrey Dean Morgan, star of AMC’s series “The Walking Dead,” and Connie Nielsen have signed on for the Janusz Kaminski-directed thriller “The Postcard Killings.”

  The two will co-star in the film adapted from James Patterson and Liza Marklund’s bestseller. The film follows a New York detective whose life is thrown into turmoil when he learns that his daughter and son-in-law have been brutally murdered in London. As he digs into the case, similar crimes are reported across Europe with each killing accompanied by a postcard sent to a local journalist.

And last, proving that postcards make connections…a piece of happy news. Hello Clarksville-The Neighborhood Postcard project, kicks off at the Downtown Commons on November 6 from 11 a.m. to 1 p.m.

The event is free and open to the public.

Participants will create handcrafted postcards with positive messages that will be mailed to random people in the community. Each postcard is a small piece of art to be shared with a neighbor 

And that’s the Postcardist News Network for the week of November 5, 2018. Next week, we have Evan Kalish of Postlandia. Evan has visited and photographed more then 9200 post offices across all 50 states in the United States…we’ll hear about those adventures…and much more. Evan is a real expert on postmarks.

That’s a wrap. Please subscribe to the show. It really makes a difference to get our message out.  

Keep sending postcards. And thanks for listening

Check out this episode!

#postcard #postcards #deltiologist #postcardist #podcast #stamps

[sudsybear]

Packing Up

It was time to think about what to do for summer break. I presumed I would return to Cincinnati and find a job, maybe pick up more babysitting. It would be good to see the old gang. Instead I got other news over the phone. Mom and Dad were putting the house on the market and moving to California. They were to be in San Diego by July 1st. I would have to make other arrangements for the summer.

 By this time, I was accustomed to the lipservice of support from home. The mail continued to arrive almost daily, full of, “Dad’s traveling,” “I did such and such to settle your grandmother’s estate,” “Here’s ten dollars for whatever,” “I’m sick again, an intestinal virus,” “I’m working another shift this week.” Clearly, Mom was overwhelmed with her own struggles, and Dad was just out of the picture. It’s not that they didn’t care, they just didn’t have time or energy for me and my petty concerns.

 I availed myself of the University Career Center (or whatever they called it) and looked for summer internships, on-campus positions, anything that would pay me enough to live on and earn enough to save for the following semester. I found a brochure for the Fresh Air Fund camp in Fishkill, NY. I filled out the application and sent it off. Six years of Girl Scout camp ought to qualify me for some position with the camp. It would be a summer-long experiment in working with kids from inner-city housing projects. I’d get a place to sleep, food, and a paycheck every week. Not a lot, but certainly enough to give me some spending money once the summer was over. I’d have to budget, but it could be done. I was offered a position, and I accepted. Fishkill, New York would be my home for the summer of 1986.

 During final exam period, between working on final papers, studying, and swapping summer addresses, I packed my dorm room into boxes and paid the $50 storage fee. I took home a suitcase full of paraphernalia, some summer addresses of friends, and not much else. Another ride across I-90 and down I-71 with Andy, and my life was once again, forever changed.

 I stayed in Cincinnati for about three weeks. Long enough to catch up on sleep and laundry and visit with the few friends still in high school and those few who were home from college.

 David and Victor drove down from Ohio State for Igor’s and Christopher’s graduation. Ohio State wouldn’t be out for another month. We congratulated Christopher and Igor heartily, posed for photos with our arms round each other and goofy grins on our faces. While the new graduates left for their own final fun as a class, Victor and Erin left together for their own fun, and David and I spent the rest of the afternoon swapping anecdotes and plans for summer break. He would be back in Cincinnati while I went to the Hudson Valley.

 Scot-X was a part of Christopher and Igor’s class. I snapped his photo as he walked through the graduation arches; another desperate attempt to mend the broken relationship with Ross. I don’t remember seeing Ross at the ceremonies. Perhaps I saw him sitting with his parents across the lawn. If we spoke at all, it must have been awkward. More likely we were both aware the other was in attendance and so stayed away from each other.

 *          *          *

 During those few weeks, I was charged with sorting through my childhood bedroom. Pitch the garbage, winnow out the unimportant. Anything I really wanted to keep needed to be packed away. Those memories were going to San Diego without me.

 The exercise was an organizational and emotional challenge. Certainly a distraction from the emotional turmoil of the previous school year. The task set before me, I felt no choice but to get the job done. So I sorted through my stuffed animals, weighing sentimental values against each other and giving away those that didn’t make the cut.

 Pulling notebooks out of my closet, pitching dittos on Ohio history from seventh grade, and colored maps from studying the second World War with Mr. Miller. I filled file boxes and labeled them “Susan’s Stuff”. In them, neatly organized into class and year, spiral notebooks from ninth grade earth science with Mr. Schmid along side my leaf collection from tenth grade biology class, hand written “programs” written in BASIC with mimeographed copies of the history of programming. (Twenty years after we took the class from the high school basketball coach, I turned these over to Moj in misguided hopes they would be accepted as a peace offering.)  Another spiral notebook with notes from Dr. Waksmundski’s eleventh grade economics class, and from senior year, notes from AP English – scribbles, more accurately – starts of essays, random thoughts, poetry exercises - a series of verses about classmates set to the tune of “Clementine”. All Boxed, covered and labelled for the movers.

 I cleaned out and organized for the great move to California – I sorted winter clothing, packing it away and labelling it so Mom could ship it from San Diego when I wanted it. I sorted clothing, trendy ripped sweatshirts buried with embarrassment and taken to Good Will. Old shoes, penny loafers and saddle oxfords put into the trash. Bulkier items went into separate boxes, a piggy bank from my grandmother, an old cigar box from my other grandparents, unicorn suncatchers, a green girl scout pocketknife.

 Some things I needed for camp – summer clothes, camping equipment – flashlights, sleeping bag, my backpack, laundry bag, and books for a course I would take the following fall – Classical and Scriptural backgrounds. I packed copies of the Iliad and the Odyssey, a bible, Ovid’s metamorphosis. In between teaching inner-city girls about the great outdoors, I needed to immerse myself in the ancient classics. All those things went into a beat up footlocker that had been in the attic for years.

 While I was losing my childhood home, I got to keep the car. Dad gave me the Pinto for the summer and following school year. Dad arranged a business meeting in New York City, so we drove to Fishkill together – a footlocker full of summer clothes in the hatchback, camping gear, a pile of books to read for the coming fall semester, and Dad’s suitcase for his business trip. Once again, we drove across the Pennsylvania Turnpike, we spent the night with brother Jack in Allentown before finally driving to Camp ABC in Fishkill.

 We arrived in the early afternoon, just after lunch. I checked in at the administration building and was told where to stow my gear. I asked where I could park the car, and got my orientation and welcoming kit. After a brief walk around the grounds, Dad drove me back down the mountain. We had dinner at McDonald’s or Burger King and I dropped him at the train station. We waited for the train to take him into Manhattan for business. When it arrived, I choked back tears, bit my lip, breathed deeply and tried to be brave. We hugged briefly – he admonished me to be careful, reminded me of the AAA card, and told me to call if I needed anything. I wouldn’t see him again until who knew when.

 After he got on the train, I drove back up the mountain alone. I was once again terrified, but did not see any options. At least I got a car out of the deal this time. I would have freedom of movement which I lacked the previous months. That was something.

 Chapter 1  

Summer Camp

 As part of orientation I met young women from all over the country. We were assigned to our camping groups and bunks. I was to be a “floater” – a substitute – working with whichever group of counselors needed the extra hands because of days off. I had learned to look like I had confidence. Smile and laugh and everyone thinks you’re okay. Hide insecurities and nervousness in friendly overtures. Sing camp songs and swap stories and you’ve made a friend. I was the perfect candidate to work with each group of counsellors – don’t get to know any of them well enough to get hurt. Keep my guard up while it looks like I have no guard.

 I bunked with Martine, a sixteen-year-old boy crazy junior counselor from a project in the city, Ann, a competitive Vassar grad, and Maria a soft-spoken woman studying at the City College of Manhattan. I didn’t spend much time with them during the day, they had their hands full with 11-year-old girls, shuttling them from activity to activity. Instead I spent each day with a different group of counselors and campers.

 On my own off days, I drove down to the laundromat in town and wrote letters while my wash spun around in the machines. To Cincinnati, I mailed out a dozen postcards – numbered 1-12 – with part of the message on each post card. Most were found – it was a fun exercise to keep the old gang in touch with each other. But they never found numbers 9 or 10. I’d sent those to Scott and Ross in hopes one of them might answer. Neither did.

 I wrote other letters to Jim, telling him how much I missed him and about my bunkmates and the kids I was working with. I wrote to my parents, giving them updates on my status. I wrote to my friends from UofR and then with writer’s cramp, I addressed and stamped the envelopes and dropped them in a mailbox on my way back up the road to camp.

 *          *          *

 Jim sent me letters, too. I have them tucked away, and curiosity got the better of me during this project. I opened a few and started re-reading them. But instead of inspiring warm comfortable memories, Jim’s letters bring bile to my throat. I get nauseous and shaky. How could I have ever been so beaten down to be attracted to such a man? He sent me reading lists, recommendations of titles to improve my literacy. Oh sure, he sent cookies and other endearing remembrances – creative writing stories from his childhood. But he also sent exhaustingly detailed descriptions of what family members were up to, how his cat had escaped the house and killed a bird in the yard, and how he was planning a crab feast for his friends from high school. These weren’t love letters, these were documentaries.

 A sample:

Postmark June 17, 1986 Baltimore, MD

 Well I’m bored, so I decided to write another letter. If you haven’t gotten the first letter, then don’t open this one. You can tell the first letter because it’s not this one. The first letter makes no self-referential statement which says it is the first, because at the time I had no idea that I would be writing a second. I hope these letters reach you before you leave for Fishkill.

 Speaking of which, tonight we had fish for dinner which my uncle caught while he was on his annual fishing trip in Northern Canada. It was quite delicious.

 I tried to call Eric B---------- & Danner D----- but they both weren’t home.

 I am still in the throes of The Idiot, which is quiet exciting and adventurous. As with other Dostoevsky, the novel consists of a pack of wild and seedy people who chase after women & spend other people’s money doing it, and one valiant upright and gloriously noble protagonist who vainly attempts to lead them all in the right direction. You gotta love it. Unfortunately I am looking forward to the next books I have picked to read so that I feel like giving up on Dost. And starting them. They include The Terrible Swift Sword by Bruce Catton, about the middle

 (2)

 part of the Civil War, The Fourth Protocol a spy thriller by Frederick Forsyth, the Historian as Detective, a collection of essays by Historians, and a possible re-reading of Northwest Passage by Kenneth Roberts. Bruce Catton is a civil war historian and an incredibly good author. Kenneth Roberts writes historical novels about the United States. When I think about it, its incredible the # of good books I’ve read and how much I’ve remembered of them, and how they’ve affected my thinking. Here are a few of the very best, all of which I recommend that you read, or would make great gifts for your parents or friends (if they haven’t read them, that is):

  The Adventures of Tom Sawyer by Mark Twain

Treasure Island by R.L. Stevenson

The Three Musketeers by Alexander Dumas

20,000 Leagues under the sea and

The Mysterious Island by Jules Verne

Contact by Carl Sagan

Murder on the Orient Express by Agatha Christie

Oliver Twist by Charles Dickens

Northwest Passage by Kenneth Roberts

Complete Short Stories of Mark Twain by Mark Twain

(3)

Cannery Row and Sweet Thursday by John Steinbeck

War & Peace by Leo Tolstoy

Farhenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury (Sci Fi)

Catch 22 by Joseph Heller

A Stillness at Appomattox by Bruce Catton (About the end of the Civil War)

Freedom at Midnight by ? (About the liberation of India in 1947)

The Source by James Michener

The Caine Mutiny by Herman Wouk

           (Also an incredibly good Humphrey Bogart movie)

             Well, anyway you get the idea. Right now you’re probably struggling through the Odyssey. Have fun with that one in the mean time.

Love,              

Jimmy              

 P.S. None of the books is especially “meaningful” or “deep”, their (sic) just funny, exciting, adventurous and well written. That’s all.

On my first weekend off, I drove from Fishkill to Baltimore. I looked at the map, plotted my route, and called Jim with an ETA. He said, “See you then, and tell me all about the Tappan Zee,” (a large bridge spanning the Hudson River just north of NYC.) The route I plotted crossed the Hudson at Bear Mountain. But as I drove, I saw signs for the Tappan Zee and lost confidence and followed them, crossing back over to the east side of the Hudson. Then I was lost in the middle of Harlem, and finally worked my way back across the George Washington Bridge. An hour or more behind schedule at this point I had to make an instant decision. While driving 65 mph in a small Ford Pinto on an eight-lane highway in Jersey with semis all around me, do I take the New Jersey Turnpike, or the Garden State Parkway? I chose the Garden State Parkway. Wrong highway.

 A couple of hours later, I stopped at a toll plaza and asked one of the attendants where I was. I pulled over to a phone booth and called Jim. “I’m lost. How do I get from here to Baltimore?” He and his mother talked me through the possibilities, and I drove the rest of the way, frustrated, exhausted, and very annoyed.

 He first truly assaulted me later that weekend. In the basement of his parents’ home, among the boxes and dust and cobwebs, we shared a romantic stolen kiss while away from his parents. His passion escalated and despite my pleas of “No” “Don’t” “Not here” “Stop” he put one hand on my breast, tugged at my shorts with the other and put his hand on my now exposed crotch. At that point I folded. I learned earlier in the year that Jim would continue until he was satisfied, so it was useless to protest. I acquiesced and allowed him his bidding. He satisfied his primal urges – ever without penetration. He scraped his penis against my dry and sore vulva, providing lubrication with his own saliva. I was confused, hurt, and angry. I spent the rest of my time in his family’s home publically cowed and supplicant, while privately angry and devastated. Would he ever learn?

 *          *          *

 I had weekends off, and spent the 4th of July weekend in NYC with some other counselors. I drove us to the station, and we caught the train into Grand Central. We visited Battery Park, and danced in the streets, celebrating both Independence Day and the Statue of Liberty’s 100th birthday. She was wrapped in scaffolding, but stood proud and tall. In the evening as we walked up the Avenue of the Americas back toward the train station, we looked out across 14th Street and could see three sets of fireworks going off – one set from a barge in the East River, another set from a barge in the Hudson, and another set being launched from the Bay near Liberty Island. A magnificent sight I’ll carry with me always.

 Another weekend in August, I dragged three other counselors with me to meet Jim and his family at a campground in Cape May. Four of us folded into that Pinto with our gear in the hatchback. This time, when I crossed the Hudson, I was confident of my navigation. We needed to take the Garden State Parkway. We drove down on Friday night, set up our tents and gear, and enjoyed the beach on Saturday.

 I met Jim’s sister, his aunt and uncle, and we all shared dinner at the campground. Then on Sunday afternoon, with thousands (millions?) of other motorists, I double-clutched my way back around NYC to get to camp. It was a long drive, and we were grateful for air conditioning.

 Erin worked a boring desk job that summer. She had oodles of time to write, so she sent me gossip. Her letters are full of updates of what the gang was doing. She and Victor were madly in love. Julie was madly in love with a guy she met at Miami. When she wasn’t working, she was visiting him or he was visiting her. Valli was busy at her summer job as a lifeguard. Victor and Igor and another buddy were hired to gut a building, so were busy with sledgehammers. Beth and Boyd were going here there and everywhere. Her letters are fun to read, even all these years later. But never any news of Ross.

[disneygeekcom]

A Magical Twilight Snowfall

Hong Kong Disneyland Resort presents the most delightful Disney Christmas

Mickey and friends invite guests to join their Christmastime Ball and heartwarming Disney celebrations with loved ones in a stunning winter wonderland (Hong Kong, October 26, 2017) Hong Kong Disneyland Resort invites everyone to come with their family, friends and loved ones for the most delightful Disney Christmas celebration ever this winter! From November 16, 2017 to January 1, 2018, guests can enjoy festive celebrations from day to night at “A Disney Christmas” as the resort is transformed into a winter wonderland filled with yuletide carols, magical lights and shimmering snowflakes. Guests are invited to join Mickey and friends in their festive new outfits at the Christmastime Ball and to enjoy a stunning lineup of activities, festive dishes and seasonal items that are sure to create warm memories!

Mickey and Friends Christmastime Ball

Mickey and friends host the Christmastime Ball in front of the Castle This year, the Castle forecourt will be transformed into a themed stage for the special Mickey and Friends Christmastime Ball, happening 2-3 times daily. In this 20-minute celebration, Mickey and friends will have a joyous get-together filled with inspiring Christmas music and dance performances. The show also features the hilariously high-strung Donald Duck, who is extra grumpy because he has not gotten his holiday wish yet. Watch and see if his dream comes true!

Make a Holiday Wish with Santa Goofy

Holiday greetings with Mickey and friends Mickey and friends will also be dressing up for Christmas in festive new outfits. During the Holiday Wish Moments, they will meet guests for heartwarming photo moments filled with lots of surprises. Give a warm hug to the beloved snowy celebrity Olaf ! Taking part alongside this Christmas celebration for the first time this year will be StellaLou, the newest friend of Duffy the Disney Bear. Capture wonderful memories with them this special season!

Over at his Post Office on Main Street, U.S.A., Santa Goofy will be greeting guests. He has prepared new postcards with a one-of-a-kind Santa Goofy Commemorative Stamp so everyone can write heartwarming holiday messages to their loved ones. Send postcards to family and friends around the world by simply dropping them off in Santa Goofy Holiday Mailbox!

A Magical Twilight Snowfall

Magical moments every evening Every evening during the Christmas season, Disney friends and townsfolk will make a special wish: let it snow! Just like magic, A Magical Twilight Snowfall will turn Main Street, U.S.A. into a winter wonderland. The giant Christmas tree will be illuminated in “A Holiday Wish-Come-True” Tree Lighting Ceremony, while a live quartet of singers adds magic to the scene by singing classic Christmas tunes.

Guests can celebrate together and create sweet memories with loved ones as the “Disney in the Stars” Fireworks light up the night sky above Sleeping Beauty Castle. Santa Goofy will join the Christmas Carolers in Town Square to bid everyone a warm goodnight in the specially arranged “A Holiday Kiss Goodnight” moment, rounding off a perfect day of Christmas fun.

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Christmas Popcorn Bucket

Christmas Dessert Party at Train Station

Christmas F&B

Dining delights and gifts for the season of giving Restaurants in the park and hotels have added more than 70 delights and drinks to this year’s festive Christmas menus. The brand-new “Christmas Dessert Party at Train Station” offers more than a dozen sweet snacks for dessert lovers on selected nights. Market House Bakery will have other sweet treats too, such as “Christmas Donald,” “Christmas Daisy,” “Creamy Snow Man,” “Christmas Tree Cookies” and “Christmas Tree Croissant.” A Christmas Pluto Popcorn Bucket will be available at outdoor vending carts for nibbling.

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Merchandise – Mickey and Friends Group shot

Merchandise – Duffy and Friends Group Shot

The resort is also the perfect place for Christmas shopping! Stores will be packed with over 100 seasonal merchandise items, so enjoy browsing through the elaborate range of goodies including the Tiny Tsum Tsum Advent calendar, a Duffy and friends winter assortment, Christmas ornaments, and new personalized products such as photo postcards, photo blocks and keychains. To mark the premiere of the short film “Olaf’s Frozen Adventure” and new movie “Coco” this December, a range of Frozen-themed items, including Queen Elsa and Princess Anna winter costumes, and Coco-themed merchandise will also be available.

Christmas Hotel Overlay

The ultimate Christmas staycation in Hong Kong Make it the ultimate Christmas by planning a staycation at the resort! Guests at any of the three resort hotels will feel the festive spirit thanks to gorgeous decorations all around and a collectable souvenir set in each room, which includes a Christmas amenities box, Disney slippers, a door sticker and postcard. Different Christmas-themed recreation activities will also be available for guests staying at any of the three resort hotels, including arts and crafts workshops, a Little Santa training workshop and more. Hong Kong Disneyland Resort is the perfect destination in town for Christmas with family and friends!

From October 27 until November 7, Hong Kong residents can enjoy the “Chill-out Staycation” Stay & Dine Package* by calling [phone] or visiting the website (https://www.hongkongdisneyland.com/hoteloffer). Guests travelling between November 1 and December 14 can enjoy a magical stay and afternoon tea set in designated hotels along with Senior Park Tickets (for two guests) starting at just HK$1,488. Indulge in a staycation with loved ones this winter!

“Double the Fun” Special Offer for Hong Kong Residents From now until December 22, Hong Kong residents can enjoy the “Double the Fun” special offer*. For just HK$639, guests can make two visits to the park on or before December 23. With the offer, they can indulge in Halloween and Christmas activities, and enjoy a 10% discount on shopping and a range of F&B discounts on top of that. The offer is available for purchase at the resort website (https://www.hongkongdisneyland.com/offers-discounts/double-the-fun).

*Terms and conditions apply. Please visit hongkongdisneyland.com for more details.

#HongKongDisneyland Resort presents A #Disney #Christmas (Press Release) Hong Kong Disneyland Resort presents the most delightful Disney Christmas Mickey and friends invite guests to join their Christmastime Ball and heartwarming Disney celebrations with loved ones in a stunning winter wonderland…