Keeping Touch with Mama Kin by Robert Louis My mother was an intelligent and talented person. She played piano, organ, could draw and paint, and of course write. The proof of her ability to write, is a book of poems that she authored, and had published, simply entitled, “Dolls”. For many years my mother collected antique and collectable dolls, amongst other things; it was part of her resale inventory, but she really loved those dolls. Every task my mother took on in which she deeply cared about, was done so with passion, writing that book of poems was no exception. I clearly remember her sitting at her desk, in front of the type writer, into the late hours of night, glasses down on her nose, cigarette butts over flowing in the ash tray, a trail of smoke rising up from one still burning down to the filter, waste paper basket filled to the top and spilling over onto the floor with crumples of paper; discarded drafts and re-writes that didnt quite make the cut. and of course the sound of tapity-tap-tap-tapping, coming from of the type writer, against the sound of the television, on for background noise, and intermittently interrupted by the squelch of the police scanner, in which, on occasion, my name would come across. At the time, I never really thought about mom as being talented, it was no big deal to me; it was just mom, doing her thing.
Posted on: Sat, 05 Apr 2014 05:42:46 +0000
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