February 9, 1965
I skipped this day, so I get to post another little slice of Smith Island Cake.
February 9, 2021
The Middle
The middle?
I was born there.
In the middle of the week,
In the middle of a year,
In the middle of the century.
I lived in Nebraska
With my Republican mom and Democratic dad.
Pop-pop and Mom-mom in New Jersey
Grandfather and Grandmother in California.
It’s not so bad, the middle.
Sometimes it’s the middle of nowhere; sometimes it’s the middle of everywhere.
February 9, 2023
I wrote this in 2021, after mulling over that "in the middle of nowhere”…"or the middle of everywhere" conversation I posted about yesterday. The idea of the “middle” still fascinates me. Here I am, living in the mid-Atlantic, no longer middle aged, economically middle class (according to the Pew Research Center calculator). My height is above average and so is my educational level. Being a bit of a daydreamer, I feel like I am in the middle of nowhere most of the time. When I meditate, I sometimes arrive in the middle of everywhere. I like to imagine that’s where we go when we die.