#< ... does green mountain qualify as one..? just playing safe here

[doawk]

climb the green mountain trail.

[shitmytexangrandmothersays]

Kitchen Cabinet Nostalgia

The closest I’ve come to having “my life flashing before my eyes” has been happening in slow motion increments while I’ve been tackling the herculean task of organizing our house since my moving back.  We have lived at 1001 Roland since the Mother’s Day after I turned one, and even in the years I wasn’t living here I still spent a lot of time, so I can't open a cabinet or sort through a stack of papers without getting smacked in the face with memories.  It makes it more bittersweet that I’m doing this alone since Baby (my grandmother) can barely move without getting out of breath, so there are a lot of questions I’ll never have answers to, or I’m afraid of asking and sending Baby into tears, and some answers I’m probably better off without knowing.  I started with the kitchen thinking that was the most practical thing and our cabinets have turned out to be an unexpected treasure trove. The finds read like strange riffs on the old “Baby shoes, never worn” short story however apocryphal that may be. A few highlights with accompanying stories are as follows, apologies that brevity isn’t my strong suit: 

A 1944 Roosevelt and Truman election button, in a fleishmann’s margarine tub full of change. 

A cake tin of things taken from me as punishment when I was a child. Tellingly they were all art materials: a muddied watercolor set used to the dregs, sidewalk chalk, an ink stamp mounted on a the feet of a troll doll.

Also tellingly, a paddle ball toy without the ball or elastic string, that delivered quite a sting to my behind when I misbehaved. Must have worked, Baby says she didn’t have to spank me past age 5. I guess she kept it just in case?

A receipt for rabies shots for Monk from 1982. Monk was the weimaraner Papa found wandering around a gas station and took home, that adored him so much she would eat anything she saw him eating including jalapeños. This won him lots of bets I’ve been told. The dog died before I was born, when they lived in another house, so how this made it to the kitchen cabinet is a mystery.

An ashtray in the shape of a cowboy hat (the wide brim style of silent movie cowboys), rather skillfully made from copper, from my great grandparents. I wonder if they brought it back to New Mexico after one of their road trips to California in a Model T in the twenties. (An aside: two of my favorite pictures from the family album are from those trips I think. One is Mema sitting on the center of a log in the petrified forest with the sun at her back so that she looks like a dark shadow with the silhouette of her wide brim hat obscuring her face, and another where she stands alone in front of a large butte in a desert looking more like a mirage than a person . Both unsettling, mysterious images that always stuck in my mind.)

At least 15 decks of cards and 4 sets of poker chips (there was another whole box full in the storeroom too...) including a deck that was a promotional item from Redman chew depicting a can as a mountain lake with trees all around “Reach for more outdoor flavor”. These were leftovers from the days when every Friday was poker night. I ruined a game one time after I had started to learn my letters, because I was scampering around the table reading everyone’s cards and proclaimed “Granddaddy has three Ks!” 

Screen printed cocktail glasses from the 1978 All American Futurity “The World’s Richest Horse Race.” My grandparent’s horse Clyde (registered name was Jet Railroad)  won a qualifying race that year and won $10,000. It was the horse’s first professional race. I found a copy of the photo finish a couple years ago that Papa had sent to Aunt Bert and immediately framed it, finally some proof of my crazy stories!  Mom said that in celebration Baby got tipsy and rode home stretched out in the backseat of their Lincoln, with her size 11 feet hanging out the window, the trophy in one hand and with the other throwing cheese puffs in the air to catch with her mouth. The trophy sits in our living room still. 

A guide to carpet care from when the house was renovated before we moved in.  Only notable because the cover has a picture of a couple in an expensive looking living room sitting on the couch, attired in very 80s clothes (shoulder pads, teased hair and all) looking on in horror as their robot butler spills wine onto the brand new light gray carpet.  An image that could only sprout up in that time and place.

A pocket sized can of tear gas, in the highest cabinet, next to a bottle of lighter fluid.  Why this was needed, why there, any of that, I have no idea. Baby had never seen it.  She rejected my suggestion that I take it to the police to dispose of it, on the grounds that they might think I had brought it back from South Carolina and I would get into trouble. I rejected her idea of burying it, because how terrible would it be to be minding your business digging a hole and hit a can of tear gas with a shovel? Back it went into the cabinet to befuddle me further when I do all this again in another 28 years. I’m beginning to think between the tear gas and how many guns I’ve found that Papa’s policy was to have a weapon concealed in every room in case the Commies dropped in. 

An empty box from a pharmacy in Fort Sumner, New Mexico with a prescription for a great-great aunt in 1954. Two capsules for rest, repeat every four hours if necessary from Dr. Fikany.  Says at the bottom of the instructions “Be loyal to your doctor, follow his directions with the same exactness we have used in compounding this prescription.” Damn, they didn’t play around.

A xerox of an article in the Amarillo Globe News about the time Uncle Johnny (my great uncle, Baby’s brother) found and returned a wallet containing $1,285 from the floor of the Taylor’s Food Mart.  The article queries “What does one do when one finds a billfold with enough money in it to buy a used car?” Uncle Johnny: “You don’t say nothing. You just make sure it gets back to where it belongs.” I can almost visualize him crouching down as if to tie his shoes and tucking the wallet into the pocket of his overalls. 

My grandparent’s Franciscan Ware wedding china, with a great mid century modern/atomic age pattern of star bursts in blue and green.  Includes a matching ash tray.  I have a picture of Baby and Papa at their wedding shower with the dishes on the table in the background.  If I ever get to the point of reorganizing the china cabinets, the dishes will get a bath and as prominent a spot as the two sets of china from Uncle Ken’s mother. 

A little circle of metal that appears to be a baby bracelet with a delicate pattern incised into the surface, looks to be old and has a clever mechanism to fasten it.  No idea on its origin, it was just sitting on a the highest shelf with globes from light fixtures we don’t even have in the house anymore.  

Every lung function test print out from when I had histoplasmosis at age 12, as well as half the report cards I received between ages 12-18. They are predictable, high As in English and Art, hard won mid Bs in math and science... Stacks and stacks of all kinds of receipts and papers too. My grandparent’s logic was, why throw something away if there’s an empty drawer you can throw it into?

A package of Bridges family photos Aunt Bert sent Papa a decade ago, that i only remember seeing once then wondering where they went.  Great photos of Papa and his nine siblings at various ages, of his parents, him freshly home from the army.  A picture at around age 13-14 that looks identical to one of Uncle Carey at the same age. What a different life would we all have had if he’d never left that valley in Tennessee, and thank goodness his sister had moved to New Mexico for her husband’s lungs and another had followed and worked in the same grocery store as my grandma. 

By the time I finished the kitchen organizing I had taken out 7-8 bags of trash, unpacked and stored about 15 boxes of my kitchen things, taken 3 boxes to the thrift store, stashed away all the oddities and treasures for safe keeping. It took the better part of a week.  I’m left wondering where I will get the “intestinal fortitude” (an appropriate Babyism in this instance) to handle the rest of the house, garage, barn down the street, two city hangars we lease, the tools from the hangar Papa sold about a year ago....

[swimmerboys]

A Blue Hope

Sooooo I read a poem and was inspired to write a short (1,456 word) langsty fic. No ships, no deaths/injuries, just Lance and Blue doing some bonding. Hope you like it!!

---

The mission was simple enough, most intelligence missions went off without a hitch. It was almost routine at this point, Shiro, Hunk and Keith would catch a ride in the Green Lion, masked by its stealth capabilities. Allura and Coran would call shots from a secluded vantage point and Lance would use Blue to scan the base, giving a clear picture of what they were up against. It was kind of boring to Lance, really, he would sit and wait nearby looking for any fighters or any signs of oncoming trouble. Unless one of them was spotted, usually there wouldn’t be any.

Inside Blue he leaned back and closed his eyes, a soft robotic humm filled the cabin and he smiled. Blue was the best lion in Lance’s opinion, though he realized he might be a bit biased. She never failed to keep him cool in hot situations. If he was honest, Blue (and Yellow by extension) were the most vital part of Voltron. They literally lift the team up. But why him of all people? “Hey Blue,” Lance started “Why did you pick me over Keith?”

The soft robotic humming stopped and Lance sat up, a curious expression on his face “Blue?” he asked, a little concerned with the sudden silence. After a moment he took a breath and closed his eyes; images of the desert back on Earth flashed behind his eyelids and his eyes shot open “Woa, what was that?” he asked, looking around the cabin. 

The vast emptiness of space greeted him and his heart sank a little “Had me convinced there for a second Blue.” he let out a half hearted laugh and sighed, leaning back into his seat again “Show me more.” he whispered, his eyes closing again. Instantly the desert appeared, he could almost feel the heat and a smile spread across his face; it was like he was gliding across the desert and soon found himself in the cavern where Blue had been, only Keith was there. He frowned but kept his eyes closed. Blue showed him how often Keith came to the cave to explore, she showed him Galra commanders and countless others enter the cave, warriors, diplomats, scholars...over ten thousand years worth of visitors from various backgrounds and skills were drawn to her essence. Lance opened his eyes again.

“Why didn’t you choose any of them? They all seemed really qualified to be your paladin. More qualified than me at least, just a boy from Cuba tryin’ to make it big. A second rate fighter pilot with a knack for crashing the simulator.” he let out another half hearted laugh, his vision getting blurry from the tears welling up, threatening to overflow. “You could have had anyone.”

Blue got to her feet and let a low grumble, a growl almost, fill the cabin. Lance’s hands immediately went for the controls “What’s wrong? Are there enemies approaching?” he checked the scanners but it was still quiet. How long had it been at this point? Things were still going smoothly, that was good. Another growl filled the cabin and Lance sighed, closing his eyes once again. Obviously Blue wanted to finish explaining.

“You won’t believe what I see from this vantage point--”

Lance’s eyes shot open and his heart felt like it was going to burst. That voice. It was...his mother's? The tears that had welled up earlier over flowed, a rush of emotions taking hold of him. “B-blue...what..?” he choked out, wiping his tears. He knew they were linked but could Blue replicate his Mother’s voice so perfectly? It didn’t seem possible. Then again, with all he had seen up until now, anything was possible. He wiped his tears away and squeezed his eyes shut “Continue” he whispered, readying himself to hear a voice he never thought he’d hear again.

Behind his closed lids it was like an old home movie, pictures and moments with his family sped past him from the day he was born, to his last birthday at home, to meeting Hunk at the Garrison. Tears escaped his closed eyes as he let the warmth of the memories envelop him.

“--the years stretching out before you like a long and winding road. I don’t want to scare you, but there is a forest just up ahead. One so dense and dark, the sunlight won’t reach you for awhile. You will wander lost, in this long, perilous night, not knowing if it will ever come to an end. But believe me, the light will find you again, and when it does, you will no longer be afraid of the dark”

The memories stopped playing and he was alone in darkness, an image of himself running back towards the light of the moments just passed. His breathing became uneven, his legs felt like they would give, how long would this go on? He tried so desperately to grab hold but every inch closer was ten inches farther.

“Stop to catch your breath. Soon, a jagged mountain of ice will rise before you, so steep it will make you want to turn back around. Don’t despair; the first foothold is always the most difficult and every inch you claim of that cold, hard precipice will only make you stronger.”

Before him, the jagged mountain of ice appeared and he came to a halt, staring up at it’s height. The Galra’s insignia was carved into the side, taking up most of the face and glowing an eerie purple. A rage built inside him, because of them he was forced into this war. The only thing between him and his home was this empire of destruction. He took the first step, his legs burning from the running he had been doing, his hands gripping the icy rock surface. Determination glinted in his eyes. At first it was a slow pace up the mountain, his body protesting and the glint of determination fading. He began to recall how hard he worked to get into the Garrison, long days working for tuition and long nights studying to get in, how he had struggled his whole life to make a name for himself and stand out from his siblings. He couldn’t stop now, after he had come so far; the determination bubbled up again and his pace quickened. His sights set on the top.

“Before you know, the ground will level out beneath you, and you will look back to see you had conquered what you once thought impossible.”

As he reached the top of the mountain, the same familiar warmth appeared in the distance again and he took off. His body only moments before riddled with exhaustion, found new life to make the journey.

“See that turn just up ahead? That’s the place where love will meet you, with arms so warm it will melt away the winter in an instant. And then, it will be summer for a very long time.”

The warmth broke through the darkness and enveloped him, the light blinding him at first. The sound of waves and gulls filled his ears, the salty air brushed against his face; he didn’t need his eyes to know he was home. He dropped to his knees, the water rushing around him, tears flowing down his cheeks. He heard footsteps approaching and looked to their direction, his eyes finally adjusting and focusing on the woman before him.

“Mom…? M-Mom!” he shouted, getting to his feet and running headstrong into her arms. The feeling was indescribable to him and tears just kept falling “I love you. I’m so sorry I’ve been gone. I’m here now.” he whispered between sobs, clinging tightly to his mother. He looked up at her and she ran her hand softly down his cheek.

Then he opened his eyes. The vision before him wasn’t of his mother or the beach now, it was the inside of his cabin, nothing but a cold vast emptiness outside the windows. He dried his tears and took a shaky, calming breath. “I get it now. Thanks, Blue.” he gave a soft pat to the dash and radioed to his teammates “How’s it coming?”

“Just a few more ticks and we’ll be out. How do things look out there?” Pidge questioned through the comm

“Clear as glass.” he responded, checking the scanners again just to be sure.

He waited to see the Green Lion safely exit the base and followed them back to the ship. Back on the bridge, Allura and Coran gave congratulatory remarks for another successful reconnaissance mission while Pidge uploaded all the data. Lance quietly left the room and headed back to Blue’s hangar, climbing up and sitting on her nose, the same soft robotic purring started up and he pressed his hand to the cold metal “Best buds for life.” 

---

Just a little something that came to mind last night. The italicized excerpts are from Lang Leav’s poem “To Myself, Ten Years Ago” which inspired this piece actually cause I read it and I was like “LANCE.” The reason Blue chose Lance is that he overcomes any difficulties before him, his determination and love dives him to be an outstanding paladin, that’s why Blue picked him over anyone else. I haven’t written in awhile but I’m very proud of how this came out. Comments, likes, reblogs are all really appreciated!