Yesterday I simply couldn't. Whether said writers block was due to boredom, overwork, distractions, politics, or life itself nothing came to me. So I didn't. However post awakening this morning I felt the urge to jot something down. Whether said flow is driven by guilt, responsibility or inspiration is up for opinion. However in the end, I did have something to say. So now I'll say it...
Neither here nor there
Many years ago we put roots down in Central
Montana. My career forced us to live all sorts
of places. No wonder we felt the need to have
a true "home". Subsequently with a solid base
in Lewistown we continued to live where the
work was. Be it Dallas or New York or West
Virginia. Throughout those years we remained
grounded. Having a firm foundation to return
to no matter what. One deep rooted in family,
tradition, and heritage. Frank's that is. And as
his spouse I was happy to be here given I too
had fallen in love with Montana. Just months
after doing the same for the man himself.
Whither thou goest...
In part this blog has helped me transition to my
new circumstances. Rather than live by rote I
was forced to adapt. Fortunately I was able to
split my time between here and wherever there
was at the time. Making my transition quite a
bit more subtle and hence easier. Whereas some
of us have no choice but to follow. Recently a
lovely lady came into the shop. Aptly named
"Ruth". Like her namesake, she came along for
the ride when a loved one wanted to retire in
his hometown. A bumpy journey given change
is never easy. New being even newer when one
is older. No matter where one chooses to live.
From here to there
We each adapt in our own way. Upon entering
our store said newbie was overjoyed to find
a refuge in the wilderness that "felt like home".
Immediately connecting with everything we
have to offer. Which was a gift to us given that
most locals simply "don't get it." Rather than
wander and enjoy our offerings, they avoid our
side of the shop. Deeming it "fancy" or I'm sure
(when out of earshot) "crazy". Then every once
in awhile, somebody who knows what they're
seeing walks through our door. And together
we share a few minutes of happiness. Whether
they end up buying a tidbit or not.
Another time and place
Ultimately Ruth found a bridge in our shop. Via
a circa 1790 etching by the august French artist
Jean Jacques de Boissieu. Crossing The Stream
(shown at the top) depicts cattle. However not in
a Charlie Russell manner. But rather in an 18th
century French mode. After said work caught her
eye the lady did her homework. Discovering that
a true treasure hung on a wall here in Lewistown.
Then her hubby took her for a ride to the banks
of the Judith River. Where she saw a local scene
quite similar. Which led her back to a French
translation that enables her to connect with her
new home is way all her own. Quel cadeau!
Theres no place like home
Isn't that what life is all about? Somehow we
all find our niche no matter our circumstances.
Often helping others along the way. Enabling
all of us to see things from a new perspective.
What is rote to many can be amazing to others.
However sadly, many of us who live in such
and amazing place can't see it for what it is.
An at times harsh, cruel, yet always beyond
magnificent wilderness. Home to a gathering
of souls - some stuck in their ways - others
open to new alternatives. Yet in the end what
I most appreciate is when some one affirms
just how lucky I am to call this place home.