Visit

My folks determined to make it to the Flatirons...

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Visit…

A visit from the folks is at once a physical experience and also a journey of visceral memory – lightning bolt flashes of the past that condense and crystalize and illuminate the reality of my world. Who I am today, where I am going, where I have been... It provides a bit of swirling context in this spinning maelstrom of life. Pieces that seem out of place, or a strange amalgamation of chance are easily relatable to genetics and shared moments... Shared life in the living scrap of decades again renewed, like a grammatical double negative cancelling out the dizzying spin that can sometimes overtake and overwhelm - for a few welcomed moments of clarity...

As I enjoy the company of my parents after some 8 months, there is a glimpsed continuity with the divide and distance gapped, the ignition spark renewed, timing again approaches the correct idle speed as we drive through the hills, clouds and the curves of life…

Out of our element at High Tea in the Brown Palace, Denver - my mom shares her poems she has written in German.

My dad totally engaged at the Buffalo Bill Museum.

Attending the premiere of Valley Uprising with a packed house at Chautauqua and my folks appreciating and identifying heavily with Warren Harding, John Bachar and Alex Honnold...