tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7861874.post114928958151082930..comments2024-01-08T13:44:54.771-08:00Comments on Dizgraceland: My own private IdahoTimehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07838683246636045823noreply@blogger.comBlogger6125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7861874.post-1149486039779994602006-06-04T22:40:00.000-07:002006-06-04T22:40:00.000-07:00Dear Zagu,Thanks, it is good to be back. It is goo...Dear Zagu,<BR/><BR/>Thanks, it is good to be back. It is good you had that insight about your father. I read something in Psychology Today a few weeks ago about how it is common for people to recreate history in their minds. I suppose it is a way to cope. Sorry to hear you won't be around for a month. Hope everything is okay. We'll all be here when you return. Take care.Timehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/07838683246636045823noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7861874.post-1149481929173864752006-06-04T21:32:00.000-07:002006-06-04T21:32:00.000-07:00Dear Tim,Nice to have you back. I've been followi...Dear Tim,<BR/>Nice to have you back. I've been following along on your blog and am moved by your posts. <BR/>I've lost both of my parents now. Mom back in the '80s. Dad, a few years ago. I had the chance to ask my Dad a few things, trying to uncover something about his life. <BR/>I think in my case the story of my parent's life <I>was</I> the smudge, the way it was smudged, the very act of smudging. The way my Dad lived his life was pretty much by distorting and bluring the truth about his feelings. So in a way, even as he was revising the history as he went along, he was very much being himself. <BR/>I'm grateful for this time that you have had with your mom. <BR/>As for me, I will be leaving in a few days for a month. I will have very little Internet access. (Can you imagine, a whole month without Dizgraceland? jeez). Just wanted you to know that I will be thinking of you and all the other wonderful people who hang out around here.<BR/>Take care.Zaguhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12172912476837995079noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7861874.post-1149479255017441392006-06-04T20:47:00.000-07:002006-06-04T20:47:00.000-07:00Hayden, That is so right on. Hearing the stories a...Hayden, That is so right on. Hearing the stories are overwhelming and I do think the real stories are between the lines.<BR/><BR/>THE Michael, I loved that Hemi. I could have lived in that car.<BR/><BR/>Kristy, Thanks, that is funny. My father started out in Portland (where he was adopted) and ended up in Idaho. He joined the navy too, but didn't take advantage of the GI Bill to go to college. I don't think he or my mother ever even considered leaving Boise. It was never really a question of if for me, just when.Timehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/07838683246636045823noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7861874.post-1149476685254185882006-06-04T20:04:00.000-07:002006-06-04T20:04:00.000-07:00Welcome back! I think our families must have a lot...Welcome back! <BR/>I think our families must have a lot in common. My mom grew up in Idaho and had a tough, tough childhood. She is surprisingly open about it, but that might be because she realized that she could join the Navy in WWII (she was a wave) and use that experience to start a life other than 30-40 years working for Or-Ida like many of her older sisters did. She was able to get a college education on the GI bill and become a homeowner in Oregon. Except for the occasional visit, she never went back to Idaho. I don't think she thinks of it as home either.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7861874.post-1149465491784375862006-06-04T16:58:00.000-07:002006-06-04T16:58:00.000-07:00That's right, Tim, you can never really go back. ...That's right, Tim, you can never really go back. Oh, you can fly back, drive back, stroll around and perhaps remember places the way they used to look, but no, that place isn't there anymore. Home is a state of mind, that travels with you and settles down wherever you feel comfortable.<BR/><BR/>By the way, that car you drive......that thing gotta hemi? heheAlex Pendragonhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/15877845166621794334noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7861874.post-1149463772122866462006-06-04T16:29:00.000-07:002006-06-04T16:29:00.000-07:00Hearing the stories can be overwhelming sometimes....Hearing the stories can be overwhelming sometimes. Or at least, it was for me. <BR/><BR/>Like looking through a smudgy window, hard to interpret in the way they were lived. My mother's father "left home" when he was ten to start earning his living. Mom was impatient of my curiosity and surprise - 'it was a big family, they were poor,' she shrugged indifferently, but the shrug wasn't convincing. I always thought that the real stories were in the silences, the pauses, sometimes a nod. The things that couldn't be said.Haydenhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/02758977872663382006noreply@blogger.com