Christmas morning, 6am
I woke up this morning thinking about toys. When I was a kid, my favorite toys were my stick and my rock. You could use these 2 items to simulate all kinds of war, and they were great for use in target practice, becoming spears and bullets and bombs. I grew up on Narragansett Bay, about 1/8 mile from the bay, and there was a park at the end of my street that was loaded with sticks and rocks, Salter Park. I would play down there at the water’s edge for days, throwing skimmers and drillers or kerplunkers as we called them.
My neighborhood was suburban middle class and under construction, and this gave my friends and me our Normandies and Dresdens, our Iraqs and Somalias. Houses in New England have basements, and those are built first. For some reason, lack of funding or permit stupidity or maybe to cure, there were some basements that were left for years with no additional work. Billy, Jeff, and other kids would come over and we’d play all sorts of war, armed with our sticks and our rocks, and have small wars with other street’s kids.
When I was about 8 or 9, I was down at Salter Park, and there were these rock outcroppings that were 25’ tall and that had tunnels and crevices in them. These rocks made for great forts. A band of girls was up in the fort rocks, and they started bombing me with marble-sized rocks from 30 or 40 yards. I grabbed some ammo, and promptly pegged one of my assailants in the forehead. Her forehead started to bleed pretty good, and I high-tailed it out of there.
When I got home, word of my accuracy had already reached my Mom. She had come to an agreement with the girl’s mom that I would apologize. The girl and her mom would be there in a moment. I was furious and mortified that I had to apologize for being a better shot, and I don’t remember how I worded the apology but I gave it. It’s funny that I can clearly see in my memory me throwing the rock and drilling her in the head, but I cannot remember the apology except that it happened and I was red with embarrassment and rage.
Now, at 50 years old, I am coming back to sticks and rocks. I was trying to come up with a gift idea for my doctor’s office that would be therapeutic for the patients. I’ve always liked the look of bonsai, so I worked out this idea of a care chart and sign-up sheet for a bonsai for the doc’s office. I went to the Muranaka Bosai nursery in Nipomo, and Muranaka-san straightened me out. Bonsai are outside mostly, even the ones that are advertised as inside like Ficus do better outside. Mr. Muranaka told me all about bonsai for a good hour. His dad had started the nursery, and they had awesome stuff. He had one 400 year old fores grouping of cypress, only $7000. I picked a Chinese Elm, Ulmus parviflora, that we thought would work if patients took it home for a month at a time. $65.
I took the elm home and stared at it and thought about the plan, and realized it wasn’t much of a gift for the doctor’s office. I went and bought 6 bottles of wine and will give that to the doc and nurses, and I exchanged the bonsai for the makings for a forest grouping, 5 Trident maples, Acer berguerianum, and a special bonsai forest grouping ceramic dish, and some bonsai potting mix. Muranaka-san told me this size dish could hold 11+ trees, always in an odd number of plants until you go past 20.
I have to wait until the trees start to bud in Feb/March to prune the roots and transplant these into the dish, but they will harden to the climate in this yard in the meantime. I will probably stick a small jade boulder in the forest glen. The idea of a forest grouping is that it looks as it does in nature, with different size trees that have created a canopy.
So it occurs to me, I have come full circle. I am back to my sticks and my rocks. It is very primal. Handling sticks and rocks is somehow therapeutic. Not like petting a cat or dog, but at a more cellular level. I have gone back to my roots, crawled back under my rock.
Christmas morning, 10 am
I had to take a break to open all the Christmas presents. No sticks, no rocks, but I am sitting in a nice new leather desk chair. Comfy. Here's hoping you all get the sticks and rocks you were wishing for, however metaphoric that may be. Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!
I woke up this morning thinking about toys. When I was a kid, my favorite toys were my stick and my rock. You could use these 2 items to simulate all kinds of war, and they were great for use in target practice, becoming spears and bullets and bombs. I grew up on Narragansett Bay, about 1/8 mile from the bay, and there was a park at the end of my street that was loaded with sticks and rocks, Salter Park. I would play down there at the water’s edge for days, throwing skimmers and drillers or kerplunkers as we called them.
My neighborhood was suburban middle class and under construction, and this gave my friends and me our Normandies and Dresdens, our Iraqs and Somalias. Houses in New England have basements, and those are built first. For some reason, lack of funding or permit stupidity or maybe to cure, there were some basements that were left for years with no additional work. Billy, Jeff, and other kids would come over and we’d play all sorts of war, armed with our sticks and our rocks, and have small wars with other street’s kids.
When I was about 8 or 9, I was down at Salter Park, and there were these rock outcroppings that were 25’ tall and that had tunnels and crevices in them. These rocks made for great forts. A band of girls was up in the fort rocks, and they started bombing me with marble-sized rocks from 30 or 40 yards. I grabbed some ammo, and promptly pegged one of my assailants in the forehead. Her forehead started to bleed pretty good, and I high-tailed it out of there.
When I got home, word of my accuracy had already reached my Mom. She had come to an agreement with the girl’s mom that I would apologize. The girl and her mom would be there in a moment. I was furious and mortified that I had to apologize for being a better shot, and I don’t remember how I worded the apology but I gave it. It’s funny that I can clearly see in my memory me throwing the rock and drilling her in the head, but I cannot remember the apology except that it happened and I was red with embarrassment and rage.
Now, at 50 years old, I am coming back to sticks and rocks. I was trying to come up with a gift idea for my doctor’s office that would be therapeutic for the patients. I’ve always liked the look of bonsai, so I worked out this idea of a care chart and sign-up sheet for a bonsai for the doc’s office. I went to the Muranaka Bosai nursery in Nipomo, and Muranaka-san straightened me out. Bonsai are outside mostly, even the ones that are advertised as inside like Ficus do better outside. Mr. Muranaka told me all about bonsai for a good hour. His dad had started the nursery, and they had awesome stuff. He had one 400 year old fores grouping of cypress, only $7000. I picked a Chinese Elm, Ulmus parviflora, that we thought would work if patients took it home for a month at a time. $65.
I took the elm home and stared at it and thought about the plan, and realized it wasn’t much of a gift for the doctor’s office. I went and bought 6 bottles of wine and will give that to the doc and nurses, and I exchanged the bonsai for the makings for a forest grouping, 5 Trident maples, Acer berguerianum, and a special bonsai forest grouping ceramic dish, and some bonsai potting mix. Muranaka-san told me this size dish could hold 11+ trees, always in an odd number of plants until you go past 20.
I have to wait until the trees start to bud in Feb/March to prune the roots and transplant these into the dish, but they will harden to the climate in this yard in the meantime. I will probably stick a small jade boulder in the forest glen. The idea of a forest grouping is that it looks as it does in nature, with different size trees that have created a canopy.
So it occurs to me, I have come full circle. I am back to my sticks and my rocks. It is very primal. Handling sticks and rocks is somehow therapeutic. Not like petting a cat or dog, but at a more cellular level. I have gone back to my roots, crawled back under my rock.
Christmas morning, 10 am
I had to take a break to open all the Christmas presents. No sticks, no rocks, but I am sitting in a nice new leather desk chair. Comfy. Here's hoping you all get the sticks and rocks you were wishing for, however metaphoric that may be. Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!
