Corita Kent (Sister Mary Corita): n is for caution (1968)

Inscriptions and Marks
Signed: l.r.: Corita
(not assigned): Printed text reads: Throw caution to the wind
inscription: l.l.: 68-69-14

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My Context Trying To Clue Me In
During an optometrist appointment this week, I was delighted to notice that I could easily read the bottom line on the chart with or without my glasses. My eyesight improved and stabilized after cataract surgeries four or five years ago. Those surgeries marked the end of my middle ages, for it was when prepping for the surgery that my high blood pressure was first acknowledged. I pled that I suffered from White Coat Syndrome, where the presence of a medical professional elevated my blood pressure to alarming levels, but neither The Muse nor the doctors bought my story. The Muse insisted, as only The Muse can insist, that I finally find a personal doctor. I'd successfully avoided having one through my remarkably healthy fifties and well into my sixties, but I complied and began regularly visiting pharmacies shortly after that. My blood pressure returned to normal, and my eyesight improved, so I felt satisfied when my eyes seemed to see so well during that latest examination. Then came the part where I was told to cover one eye and read the chart. My right eye worked fine, but the chart became a complete blur when I covered it to read from my left unassisted. I couldn't even read the largest letters. I spent the better part of a half-hour fussing about my performance before I checked my glasses. The left lens had some severe scratching, obscuring the view. I needed new lenses, not new eyes. How often have I mistaken some shortcoming as defining me when it was just my context trying to clue me in?

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Weekly Writing Summary

This Exiled Story speaks of my losing the unthinkable and letting it find me again. Being Exiled separated me from my Grooves. I had to be patient for them to find me again.

Arthur Rothstein:  Morning routine, nursery school, Harlingen, Texas. FSA  camp. (1942) United States. Farm Security Administration
"Losing our Grooves leaves us wandering relatively aimlessly in wilderness."
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This Exiled Story, AnAloneliness, recounts the moment I first felt Exiled. It happened about ten days in and never left until we returned home a dozen dog years later.

Corita Kent (Sister Mary Corita): the sure one (1966) Printed text reads: Dial "0" FOR HELP / The Sure One /
Anybody who thinks he can manage alone, he's an idiot
" … damned to return to a world poorer for his absence after inhabiting a world seemingly poorer for his presence."
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This Exiled Story, AShamed, tells of my conviction and punishment for not committing an unforgivable crime. I'm still serving time.

Corita Kent (Sister Mary Corita): (tame) hummed hopefully to others (1966) Inscriptions and Marks- Signed: l.r.: Sister Mary Corita—Printed text reads: TAME [IT']S [NO]T / Somebody up there likes us. / A hum came suddenly into his head, which seemed to him a good hum such as is hummed hopefully to others. Pooh / Deep within every man there lies the dread of being alone in the world, forgotten by God, overlooked among the tremendous household of millions upon millions. That fear is kept away by looking upon all those about one who are bound to one as friends or family; but the dread is nevertheless there and one hardly dares think of what would happen to one if all the rest were taken away. Kierkegaard
" … one helluva way to make a name for myself."
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In this Exiled Story, I admit I found a welcomed Escape in my Exile. My sentence pleased as well as punished me.

Edward Ruscha: Crackers [How to Derive the Maximum Enjoyment from Crackers] (1969)
"My incarceration was also an Escape …"
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This Exiled Story recounts how The Muse and I initially made connections within a region where we could have sworn we knew nobody. We stumbled upon some Shoestring relations.

Corita Kent (Sister Mary Corita): elephant's q (1968) / Inscriptions and Marks- Signed: l.r.: Corita (not assigned): Printed text reads: Q / John Dewey says-I'm not quoting his words, (Dr. Felix Adler), but this is what he said, that "no matter how ignorant any person is there is one thing that he knows better than anybody else and that is where the shoes pinch his own feet " and that because it is the individual that knows his own troubles, even if he is not literate or sophisticated in other respects, the idea of democracy as opposed to any conception of aristocracy is that every individual must be consulted in such a way, actively not passively, that he himself becomes part of the process of authority, of the process of social control; that his needs and wants have a chance to be registered in a way where they count in determining social policy. inscription: l.l.: 68-69-47
" … undifferentiated others certainly originally came from one."
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This Exiled Story found me circling the globe to accomplish my usual weekly shopping when we were Exiled. I surely miss the Variety I accessed there without for a minute wishing I might return to live there again.

Corita Kent (Sister Mary Corita): morning (1966) — Inscriptions and Marks: Signed: l.r.: Sister Mary Corita - (not assigned): Printed text reads: [tu]r[n] [tu]rn / turn / Morning Sometimes we go on a search and we do not know what we are looking for, until we come again to our beginning In the beginning (in the beginning of time to say the least) there were the compasses: whirling in void their feet traced out beginnings and endings, beginning and end in a single line. Wisdom danced also in circles for these were her kingdom: the sun spun, worlds whirled, the seasons came round, and all things went their rounds: but in the beginning, beginning and end were in one. And in the beginning was love. Love made a sphere: all things grew within it; the sphere then encompassed beginnings and endings, beginning and end. Love had a compass whose whirling dance traced out a sphere of love in the void: in the center thereof rose a fountain. Fields were set for the circus, stars for shows before ever elephant lumbered or tent rose. Robert Lax
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"I feel nostalgia for those times without wishing to return to them for a minute."
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You might have noticed that four of the six stories I posted this writing week featured illustrations by the same artist, Corita Kent (Sister Mary Corita) I encourage you to follow the link and learn more about this remarkable artist. I love her stuff!

My second writing week delving into The Muse and my Exiled experiences proved to be just as rewarding for this author as was the first week's writing. I suspected when I started this series that I might have been harboring some trauma from the Exiled experience. I believe that nothing better releases trauma than telling on it. A spoonful of story often cracks some part loose and aids digestion. Losing one's Grooves rarely produces warm memories; mine were no exception. Being Exiled certainly elicited AnAloneness, which stretches to this day, fifteen years later. I realized that I carried an AShamed response from the experience that remains a prominent element of my motivation to keep writing. I admitted to myself, then publicly, that as traumatic as being Exiled felt, it also included some aspects of Escaping. Had we not landed in genuine hinterlands, we would very likely have never identified the Shoestring relations that helped us survive. They enormously improved our lives! I ended this writing week celebrating and mourning the astounding Variety we enjoyed when we were living in a melting pot. Thank you for following along as I air my laundry here.

©2024 by David A. Schmaltz - all rights reserved

Tags: #Exiled, #PureSchmaltz