The Tangled Branch Discussion Forums

We buried two Penguin Paperbacks,
an orange yoyo with no string
and the rock with white stripes
in a shoe box
in the vacant lot
next to the iron pipe
left standing when the house
next door to Rita's
was torn down.

We waited--
for what, I wonder--
tension mounted
finally we agreed to dig it up
but it was gone.

Time capsule?

Ironic twist end!

Fab and sad poem Linda.
I don't see a time capsule...I see hope buried like a seed; only to be lost, completely!

Well, if it's true, maybe some sort of time reference might help. But maybe it doesn't matter.

I kept thinking of Boo Radley and him putting the stuff into the crook of the tree for Jem to find.

I enjoyed this, especially the close. It speaks to the both the inquisitive in us all and to the conceited. The ending has an almost religious feel to it, closing with mystery.

Dave

Thank you both, Colm and Tim,

I'm not certain what this is about. It is a true story written about something I remember from early childhood. There must be some developmental stage during which mystery plays an important role. I remember an almost reverential attitude toward the neon-outlined flying red horse in our neighborhood. I once took a jar of milk and some orange segments to a nearby church that had a blue glass cross embedded in the sign out front and rather ceremonially ate the food in front of it.

I have no explanation for these things but I think of Rachel Carson's book title A Sense of Wonder. She talks about how we tend to lose it as we mature and pleads a case for reclaiming it. That might explain the sense of sadness you detect Colm.

Rita and I really did bury that shoe box and shared that secret but like all secrets they often drive the keepers nuts. It really was missing. She had older brothers---my best guess is they observed us and dug it up later. But it was a unanswerable mystery at the time. Tim I'm not certain what you mean about the timeframe but I would have been about 6 years old. 1940s

Well, Dave, you snuck a post in ahead of my explanation and nailed it. It probably took you a lot less time than it did me. Perceptive. Thank you.

 

'Penguin books' -- I recall when they were plentiful, inexpensive, and entertaining.  In those days an orange yo-yo without a string was still something -- made of translucent plastic -- something still very new for toys.  The collection builds with the unique rock, and goes into the shoebox.  It is a warming story lived by countless kids. 

I see this as a story of first stirrings of the search for meaning, and a fledgling reach to ritual.  As kids with no possessions to which the world  would ascribe value, the N. and Rita found, made and believed in their own.  They created value, and then wondered what to do with it.  The burying of the box feels like ritual done to honor or acknowledge their cache.  Then, after recognizing and paying some form of tribute -- the curiosity.  

This presents the girls' experiment in how the world works.  Their experiment gives them an inconclusive result.  Which, in the grand scheme of things, is pretty telling.  

Love it, Indar.

T
 

Thank you T., 

A thoughtful and insightful review as usual from you:

first stirrings of the search for meaning, and a fledgling reach to ritual

Absolutely. My early fascination with things I identify now as symbols and rituals might explain why I chose to stick with the visual arts despite everyone warning me against it

Insightful comments by Dave and Tracy. It is a poem that resonates and triggers thoughts. On a mundane note I wondered who took the 'treasured' items! I suspect Rita I wondered if you could work the title more, the poems rings true without that title, but then I suppose you don't want to restrict the reader's thoughts.

muchly enjoyed

Phil

Thank you Phil,

I mentioned in an earlier reply that Rita had older brothers. I now suspect they might have been the culprits. But our speculation reveals our cynicism