A List of Things I Love

"Dog" by www.metaphoricalplatypus.com is licensed under CC BY 2.0.

A List of Things I Love

I love. That could be the end of the sentence, but I love sentences. I love words huddled together like strangers trying to survive a frigid night. I love rock sculptures built in windstorms. I love sandcastles crafted inches from the waves.

I love the drama of an 80’s ballad. I love grandparents holding hands in rocking chairs on the porches of old houses in northern Maine. I love penguins, though I’ve never met one. I love how shocked I was when I realized my Superman cape couldn’t lift me into the sky. I love that all these decades later, I can still be that exact same kind of surprised.

I love cucumbers straight from the garden. I love old typewriters even if they don’t work. I love imagining I am a bird who is imagining what it’s like to be human in the dead of winter, wearing an upside-down nest made of yarn atop the head. I love wishing wells and the dreams that fill them.

I love scared rescue dogs who can’t live in homes with small children. I love the kids in junior high talent contests who always forget their lines. I love the nervous love in their parents’ chests. I love mother starlings racing home to their babies’ open and rowdy beaks. I love the perfect smiles of people with crooked teeth.

I love daydreaming about the pep talks butterflies give to depressed caterpillars. I love that bumblebees taste with their feet. I love when it’s so cold out I can walk atop the sparkling snow. I love tiny libraries. I love stained glass windows in people’s homes.

I love how my partner takes karaoke far too seriously. I love my very first crush in the 4th grade, wherever he is, whoever he became. I love phone booths in London. I love ketchup chips from Canada. I love Titan, Saturn’s largest moon.

I love the six perfect holes in my most worn pair of boots. I love that pigeons can recognize themselves in photographs. I love that laughter is more contagious than the flu. I love thank-you letters mailed to teachers twenty years after they graduate. I love the romance of merge signs.

I love watching people pull over on the side of the road to take pictures of a rainbow. I love that I can fix almost anything with shoelaces or duct tape. I love listening to my partner yell, “Andrea! Where did my shoelaces go this time!?” I love pointing out the window at our singing wind chime.

I love listening for the quietest notes of the loudest songs. I love carnivals in the parking lots of tiny towns. I love paper planes with love notes written inside. I love watching children realize that the seashells on the beach are free. I love the perfect contentment of a kite caught in a tree.

I love coffee shops on Saturday mornings. I love the kind kids who have hard lives. I love the mean kids who haven’t yet learned a better way to survive. I love that after chemotherapy, my straight hair grew back in curls. I love the tiny hurt that makes each pearl. I love trying to jump over puddles and failing.

I love that cows have best friends. I love that fleeting moment of annoyance while deep in writing a poem, someone interrupts to ask me to come look at the sunset. I love the instant that follows, when I recognize that to be a true poet, I must abandon every poem for every pink sky.

I love the pink sky and the sound of my grumpy neighbor opening his door at the same time that I do. I love both of us peeling off the husks of our minds to taste the sweetness of the world’s truth. I love what I have in common with people I have nothing in common with.

I love that my best friends kiss me on the forehead whenever I am sick. I love the baristas in fancy coffee shops who never ever smile. I love old diners with signs that say, “Stay A While.” I love the desert. I love the sea.

I love how much longer this list would be if the sunset were not, in this very second, calling me.

And I love all of you, friends, for caring about what I love. What are you loving today?

by Andrea Gibson 

view from Longfellow 7:00am

Garry Winogrand

Modern street photographer Garry Winogrand captured the tension of our times with photos that are at once ambiguous and reminiscent, documentarian while arranged. His use of light gives them a sense of veracity: the broad, bright light of the West, the subtle, shadowed light of NYC streets and the flat, invasive light of night shots. He shots hundreds of rolls towards the end of his life, many of which were only recently developed.

New Mexico

© Estate of Garry Winogrand

There is one evocative photo of a young toddler in the bright afternoon sun in a garage of a suburban home next to a desert, while his tricycle law strewn and storm clouds approach in the distance. One senses vulnerability, doom and disillusionment in this one image. His show reminded me of Robert Frank’s The Americans, which captured everyday shots of ordinary people. He captures the joy and humor, anguish and passion. 

© Estate of Garry Winogrand

© Estate of Garry Winogrand

© Estate of Garry Winogrand

Garry Winogrand

there is a blessing in this

It is a miracle Mark was not seriously hurt. He has escaped death to live another day: resurrection in action.
Remember to cherish each day and tell your loved ones that you love them.

beauty on Wiese Street

It brings me joy to see this.

Last night after class, as I was dropped off to the parking lot along an alley which is invariably strewn with garbage, discarded furniture, human waste, condoms, needles, and other paraphernalia, someone had decorated the fence with plants. This morning I found a man sleeping below the canopy of green and beauty. I am not surprised or astounded by the human desire for beauty.  

Happy 50th Birthday Robert

Retinue to the beach

Kara, Nikky, Robert, Paloma, Francis, Mariah

Have you ever seen more handsome children?

Robert Sr. and Toni 

Rosie and Mary

The Cayucos Birthday Party

If you are lucky you are born with brothers. If you are luckier still you find brothers along the way. Thank you Robert for being a brother. I love you.

©  2011 Hector V. Lee

Goodbye Sweaters

When I was traveling in Cuzco, I bought a bright colorful alpaca sweater. It turned out to be a blessing as the material is light, warm and somewhat waterproof. I am allergic to wool but was surprised that I didn’t react to alpaca.

I decided to wear it to school. By midmorning, I was miserably sneezing that I had to take an antihistamine, which caused me to be dopey for the rest of the day. The sad part of this is the realization that I cannot wear wool or alpaca, give me synthetic sweaters! And I have so many wool sweaters that I am resigned to give away—gifts., beautiful gifts, from family and friends. But what is the point of having them if I cannot wear them? Goodbye Sweaters.

chinatown alley

© Hector Lee, 2010

Autumn Moon Festival

Happy Birthday Sean.

© Hector Lee, 2010