Anne Blythe Fishback was well past her zenith, but I was further past my zenith than she was. It was as if she was racing to catch up with me. There are very poetic ways to describe growing old; On our Veranda #2, she suddenly exclaimed: "Nature is so beautiful in the death of its glory...the green of Spring is now the glory in its death........The warm colors of its leaves, just waiting and...the wind is up ! Yes, we both were well past our Zenith, I was grey headed and she chose golden curls to replace the lovely blonde she once was. Fun loving impishness was replaced with a reflecting of what we once were.....Blythe was and is a deep thinker, she was fascinated by time, and what it really was. She continues to be so very fascinated with my life as a teen ager. It was like she saw me as a sort of microcosm of what we all are and were. One night, on our veranda, and after a few rounds of her favorite wine, she said: "I think time is a perception, not a mathematical reality. Time is an awareness of changes and the distances between them". She hated digital clocks. "There is no spacial awareness like the moving of hands on a clock face; It's just the moment that counts, no awareness of the future; no awareness of the past...like a rock besides the road which says to me..we just are; we just am." As I said,she was so curious about my youth, especially the Summer of 1953 when I was fourteen. I spent that Summer with Grandma Bertha and Aunt Mildred (Mimi_)......We made several car trips to Tulsa so she could taste my youth, so to speak. Grandma and Auntie lived at 216 S. Frisco, about three blocks West of downtown. When we visited, the row of white duplexes were all empty and awaiting a total destruction so that a big air conditioning could be built there. She was aware that all duplexes had same floor plan, that they were long and narrow so that each room was one behind the other, she was aware of a Mrs Jones lived right next door and that her Grand daughter whom I named Carla was also visiting her Grandmother and that her bedroom was right across from mine, She was aware that only about five feet was between our homes and that in that narrow walk space was a brick walk way. She was aware that Carla and I learned allot`from each other.
Carla went back to her Rushville, Nebraska home, she was brutally murdered by a jealous boyfriend. Yes, all of us are microcosms of all others who have ever lived...a kaleidoscope of love, hate, joy and sorrow, hope and disappointments. Some live until the Sunset and others leave way too early....Some live to show the glory of Fall colors, others are called home in the zenith of their youth, ,,,,How to make an intelligent bottom line to all of this..I have not a clue...Just as well...(to be continued)
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