My wife and I went to a 30th reunion of my high school class in Arkansas last weekend.
I knew at that reunion I’d see an old flame, whom I had not seen in 25 years, when I was in professional school.
What would it be like to encounter she and her husband? What memories would this stir? What discomforts might it cause? What profundities
could be shared—or forgotten?
In the event, of course, my old flame and my wife enjoyed a delightful long conversation,
and the whole series of questions was an entirely irrelevant internal inquiry. We always imagine we live in a Bronte’ novel, when in fact we so often live in a schematic diagram for a blood pressure monitor.
I remember, though, relationships and how they have their own rhythm—and blues. I remember how they involved endless conversation, unruly characters, and more than a bit of percussion.
For those who, like me, work best with an image in mind, I submit as the “soundimage” to this track (Marco Raaphorst calls it a klankbeeld, which is more evocative) this image: CC BY SA,
posted at flickr.com by *Laura * of flickr:
This song reminds me of lovers’ quarrels, and 2 a.m. discussions of the meaning of life at the International House of Pancakes, in Fayetteville, Arkansas.