AIR BORN
It is for a brief moment - that we are ...
AIR BORN
It is for a brief moment - that we are ...
Watch the video clip AIR BORN - below/bottom
THE SUNDAY SERMON - 25.01.26
From the sky in the form of snow comes the great forgiveness. Flight.
Rain grown soft, the flakes descend and rest; they nestle close. A return.
Each one arriving, welcomed home. If the sky lets go someday and everything falls,
I will submit to a fair and fond remembrance; where the familiar calls.
In the wind & wuthering there lives a wise and new willingness to survive.
Individualism is rather like innocence: There must be something unconscious about it.
Louis Kronenberger
THE OBJECT IN THE MIRROR - is closer than it appears
Drifting’ around from town to town ... sometimes I think I’ll settle down.
I am triangulating. Sound then sight then story. Music, visual then blog in 2026.
For whatever it’s worth? It’s a blast. This one goes back to the very beginning.
This late chapter reflecting on the first few. Bear with me. Distant memories ...
Air Born is about the lift after life starts. Going way back to the early 60s.
The first 10 years were pretty spectacular overall. I have mostly good memories.
Pain, sacrifice and real remorse - are remote to me. Not even there really. A blank.
My vacuous version of each entropic event in our tragic history is inconsequential.
Just stories ... like this is, and my ignorance around devastation is pure.
I am innocent.
RABBIT EARS - the perilous promise
I grew up in the 60’s & 70’s in a small town in southwestern Ontario.
Dad pounded the sides of the TV to get a clearer picture. A useless roof antenna.
Looking at that big picture now? It was paradise. Lucky. No problems really. Friends.
Two world wars in my recent rear view. A clearing. Promise. Plans. Family. Folklore.
Liberals and Conservatives sharing back yard barbecues together. Oblivious.
A sense of well being. A seamless world where one ideology ends and another begins; all still under the radar.
Born in northern Ontario in the late 50’s was like winning the world’s biggest lottery.
Moving to Woodstock at age 4. Kindergarten - Princess School.
Living with my Grandma Batho in the earliest formation of town in a quiet Victorian.
The milk man with a horse, bubblegum and the Man from Uncle. TV was so cool. Everything was so simple. Predictable. Fuzzy.
Black & white televisions with Batman, Hogan’s Heroes and Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea. The Monkees on the radio copying The Beatles (obviously) - knowing that even at 9. Trickery is apparent even in the mundane. The quiet restraint.
The unspoken pretension. Out of sight. Surrounded by static. Pragmatic.
Certain things that aren’t discussed.
THE LITTLEST HOBO - I’m driftin’ ... the world is my friend.
No. Tragedy for me was a heroic German Shepherd drifting from town to town, with no home every Tuesday night at 7:30 pm on CBC. So sad. I loved that dog.
I cried watching that. His departure to the next town always made me weep. Bittersweet. Emotional. Quiet time. Nostalgia.
Lost in Space, Looney Tunes and Rocketship 7 (from Buffalo) on Saturday mornings. Bugs Bunny Road Runner Hour. Gumby. Sugar Frosted Flakes w/homo milk and Tang for breakfast. White toast with margarine. Kool aid. Our phone number was 92774. Five numbers. The notes Mom wrote for me ... ‘Please give Jimmy one package of DuMaurier king size large’, before sending me to the drug store for cigarettes, with just enough change left over to buy a 5 cent popsicle. Mom knowing I would do that.
Before convenience stores. Before pizza delivery. Before diet soda. Before computers. Before knowing that life was finite ... fickle. That there would be an end to all this. That we will all eventually die.
Gone.
LOVE IS BLISS
The bliss of living in the first decade of my life was intoxicating - illuminating.
That first kiss. Elizabeth Dent. OMG. She was in my class in grade 5. Out behind Springbank School in 1965. So pretty. My attraction to her was frightening. She changed me. It was all a huge shift. My first real awakening. Whole new ball game.
OK. Just being born and living my life was a dream come true.
Astounding to me - still. The relevance & the restoration. The long shot - short stop. My fascination with faces. Music & sound. Magical images resurfacing. Returning ... The 3 months I did Boy Scouts - realizing how evil men were, especially in packs ... wearing uniforms, pledging allegiances and saluting when the Scout Master entered the room.
Movies & music mostly. Portable record players ... ball hockey, summer camp, toy trucks ... things that fly (dreaming). High places ... vertigo ... Hitchcock: The Birds - Homophobia - less is more. Counting my blessings. Liberation. Salvation.
Deliverance.
Storms on the horizon. Safe. For now.
EPILOGUE: ART IS LIFE:
I learned all this early on despite the disruptions. Judgements and divorces. The erasures. Relinquishing regret. I often wonder what would have happened, if the path had been clearer. An educated guess, at best. I’m thinking we would have made it work so much better.
What would happen if ... there were no distractions? No obstacles? Thankful nonetheless.
It is for a brief moment - that we are ...
AIR BORN
visit my website - link below …
jimlamarche.ca
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blog posts in BLOGSPOT …
http://www.jimlamarche.ca/blog/
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JIM LAMARCHE: ABOUT …
http://www.jimlamarche.ca/about/
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