constantly... he apologizes for nothing, doesn't see these ( or myriad other ) contradictions in his life, and gave me the gift early in life of achieving some level of comfort with what I was/am... I loved my father, but Mickey might be my dad, if I can be allowed the distinction.
“Are you happy, up there Tyler?” Mickey asked.
“Yes, although I miss you guys.” Neither assertion was strictly true; I don't think that I 'do' the emotion happy, nor do I miss people. I am familiar with the Adirondacks and my world up here, and that makes me comfortable ( which I translate for Mickey as being happy ). In other places beyond the edges of my mental map, I am uncomfortable, which might translate most closely in Mickey's terms to unhappy. I do miss Mickey and Anne and Mindy and Becca; because they are familiar, like New York City was, like Saranac Lake is now. Mickey knows and accepts this to the degree that he can; he once said, “Each human God puts on this Earth is unique, and of all the ( then ) five billion, you are the uniquest!” I'm not, just the “uniquest” that he knows.
“We miss you too Tyler, I hope you had a great birthday! I'll talk to you next week, maybe.” He hung up, and I felt adrift for a moment, as though reaching for a human emotion that wasn't there; then I came back to myself, remembered the missing element of my social map up here, and settled into my morning's work.
Since I couldn't push anyone or anything about Cynthia until 10a.m. ( when the library opened ) I grabbed a pair of cokes from the coke-fridge, booted up my computer and began to read a bit about the production of methamphetamine. I assumed that this may be the drug business Cynthia was digging into considering there were/are easier places to grow/refine pot or cocaine than the Adirondacks. Once I satisfied my curiosity, I then used up the extra time working on some other projects I've got going under the auspices of Smart Pig. I'm working on some hiking and camping gear design and manufacture for a group of senior-hikers that want light and comfortable gear that doesn't cost a fortune. I make heavy-duty leashes/leads for the animal shelter; they use some and sell others. I've been doing watercolors all over the Park, expanding my personal map, looking for future “homesites”, and trying to avoid the trap of always painting trees next to water ( unsuccessfully so far ). Digital photography has been great for me, freeing me from the smelly darkroom forever; I mess around with the image on my computer, and then send the finished product to interested parties through an online printing house. I do other things also, as well as favors for people from time to time, but I couldn’t stay focused on any project this morning. So after noodling around with bits and pieces of these and other projects, cranking out a couple of nylon webbing dog-leashes, and finishing my cokes before they got warm, I grabbed what I nowadays think of as a “bricks and mortar” or “actual” book, and read until it was almost 10a.m.. At that point I cleaned things up a bit and headed out and down the street towards the library.
The half hour when people are just getting their workday started is a great time to go in and push, prod, harass, and generally make a nuisance of yourself. I have found that at this time people are likely dealing with leftover things from the day before, as well as setting things up for the current day. They will likely be annoyed and won’t want to help; but that's the perfect time to swoop in and deliver a swift karate chop to the base of their assumptions.
“I'm really sorry Ben, I know you're busy, especially without Cynthia.” I had taken it as given that she wouldn't be there when I arrived. If she was somewhere in back, I'd be happy to try and feel embarrassed in exchange for her not being gone. “She has some papers and PDFs for me at her desk ( holding up a USB-drive and wiggling it at him ). If you're cool with
“Are you happy, up there Tyler?” Mickey asked.
“Yes, although I miss you guys.” Neither assertion was strictly true; I don't think that I 'do' the emotion happy, nor do I miss people. I am familiar with the Adirondacks and my world up here, and that makes me comfortable ( which I translate for Mickey as being happy ). In other places beyond the edges of my mental map, I am uncomfortable, which might translate most closely in Mickey's terms to unhappy. I do miss Mickey and Anne and Mindy and Becca; because they are familiar, like New York City was, like Saranac Lake is now. Mickey knows and accepts this to the degree that he can; he once said, “Each human God puts on this Earth is unique, and of all the ( then ) five billion, you are the uniquest!” I'm not, just the “uniquest” that he knows.
“We miss you too Tyler, I hope you had a great birthday! I'll talk to you next week, maybe.” He hung up, and I felt adrift for a moment, as though reaching for a human emotion that wasn't there; then I came back to myself, remembered the missing element of my social map up here, and settled into my morning's work.
Since I couldn't push anyone or anything about Cynthia until 10a.m. ( when the library opened ) I grabbed a pair of cokes from the coke-fridge, booted up my computer and began to read a bit about the production of methamphetamine. I assumed that this may be the drug business Cynthia was digging into considering there were/are easier places to grow/refine pot or cocaine than the Adirondacks. Once I satisfied my curiosity, I then used up the extra time working on some other projects I've got going under the auspices of Smart Pig. I'm working on some hiking and camping gear design and manufacture for a group of senior-hikers that want light and comfortable gear that doesn't cost a fortune. I make heavy-duty leashes/leads for the animal shelter; they use some and sell others. I've been doing watercolors all over the Park, expanding my personal map, looking for future “homesites”, and trying to avoid the trap of always painting trees next to water ( unsuccessfully so far ). Digital photography has been great for me, freeing me from the smelly darkroom forever; I mess around with the image on my computer, and then send the finished product to interested parties through an online printing house. I do other things also, as well as favors for people from time to time, but I couldn’t stay focused on any project this morning. So after noodling around with bits and pieces of these and other projects, cranking out a couple of nylon webbing dog-leashes, and finishing my cokes before they got warm, I grabbed what I nowadays think of as a “bricks and mortar” or “actual” book, and read until it was almost 10a.m.. At that point I cleaned things up a bit and headed out and down the street towards the library.
The half hour when people are just getting their workday started is a great time to go in and push, prod, harass, and generally make a nuisance of yourself. I have found that at this time people are likely dealing with leftover things from the day before, as well as setting things up for the current day. They will likely be annoyed and won’t want to help; but that's the perfect time to swoop in and deliver a swift karate chop to the base of their assumptions.
“I'm really sorry Ben, I know you're busy, especially without Cynthia.” I had taken it as given that she wouldn't be there when I arrived. If she was somewhere in back, I'd be happy to try and feel embarrassed in exchange for her not being gone. “She has some papers and PDFs for me at her desk ( holding up a USB-drive and wiggling it at him ). If you're cool with
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