October 07, 2002

City Mice, Country Mice

You know how this is. You look forward, months into the future, to an event that seems so very far away; so much so, that it constitutes a fiction, nothing more than ink on paper in a box that represents a day that does not exist, has never existed, and may never in your lifetime become a "now". We act as though future days are givens, but calendars are projections of faith, and I know better than to trust in the tiny square as any kind of certainty until I have been alive, long enough, so as to put that gratifying check in the calendar box, on the day after.

And so it has been now, this fictional future, since June. Now the calendar symbols for this weekend have arrived as actual lived days. They approached rapidly, existed ever so briefly in what we think of as 'real time', and now are receding into the past like the fading doppler whistle of a train vanishing in the distance, trailing off into mere memory. It was good to anticipate it, and will be better to have it as a fond recollection, years hence.

Funny to think that this weekend came about as the result of corn: Fried corn. "Corn porn" (S's term). And Cornett. Very early in my blogging babyhood, a nice stranger made kind, homesick remarks about my garden, and in particular, our Silver Queen corn. She posted the very first link to Fragments. That was back in June. My hits soared from 11 a day (these were mostly my own visits) to OVER 30! Then Susanna graciously responded to my follow-up thank-you, and via Susanna, I met Meryl; and for the first time, I began to have a rudimentary sense that there might indeed be the possibility of becoming part of some kind of web community.

I soon learned that Susanna Cornett and Meryl Yourish were both living (briefly) in a New Jersey town (I now have a level of detailed information on politics, traffic patterns and eateries of that town that I think it actually would be prohibited by the Geneva Convention). So, silly me, I sort of haphazardly suggested, back in July that hey, maybe the two of them could get together after Meryl had gotten settled in Richmond and they could drive down this way after the well-blogged garden had produced the much-photographed veggies (and in particular the Silver Queen corn, out of which Susanna promised to make "fried corn"). Soon, Meryl was offering to contribute potato latkes to our weekend, and it was starting to sound like a blogger banquet.

I penciled in the date on the calendar for our proposed October weekend, but frankly, I never really thought it would happen, best laid plans and all. I really, truly looked forward to spending some time with these city gals, but guess I sort of have the attitude that, if your expectations start off low, its will always be a wonderful surprise when the worst doesn't happen; and you get to say "I told ya so" when it does. So. This time I was wrong. They came. They saw. We had a ball. A brief summary and if you will indulge me, some snippets of communication with our recent guests whose absence is sorely felt:

  • Ann and I are perhaps the only living people in the world to have seen Meryl in rubber boots. Anybody else had the experience? Anyone?
  • Susanna now knows that PT stands for Physical Terrorist. And unbend that leg and slow down on those straight leg raises! And, yes, it's supposed to hurt!
  • Meryl has now spent more time cooking in my kitchen than I have! And does it way better. Susanna too is a wonderful cook. Three cooks and one dedicated eater. I like them odds.
  • Doc Watson has recently been graced with a most outstanding honor in that he was allowed to render Amazing Grace as part of a trio, along with two superlative harmonizers. Music contracts are certainly pending.
  • Meryl has survived a severe Bible-belting and an anointing with RedMan, and lived to tell it. And I'm glad she didn't meet Susanna's friend at the rest stop...for his sake. Gonna blog that one, SUZE?
  • I knew Susanna had country roots. And I am not about to reveal how deep and permanent those roots are. Just don't be too surprised that, a few years hence, we'll be hearing her tell us about feeding her chickens and 'singeing and scraping th' hogs'.
  • Regarding weekend blogging: envision musical chair... the chair in front of the monitor where we three obsessive bloggers vied for the chance to check stats on SiteMter. Well, not me, so much. Too embarrasing. Wee Tom Thumb here with the tiny stats got to see what an "Insta-lanche" looks like from those what gets'em. Shall we put it these terms with regard to my house-guests blogger-buddies: From their baseline of daily visits (which far exceeds my weekly tally) after an InstaPundit link, the day-long spike brings in more visitors than Fragments has had since its inception. Sigh. I'd rather have my few anyway, the chosen, the Marines...the Fragments faithful. Mom? Tim? Curt? You still out there?
  • Susanna, does your momma know what a great impression you do of her? Should I tell her? 'cause just tell me and I won't say anything about it.
  • Guys...(okay, gals)...coming home today, Ann was telling me about what we could have for lunch. She said, "We have some steak left for sandwiches; and some fried corn; and there are some of the left-over burkhas". My wife. Gotta luv her. Meryl, yes, you will have to come back soon for a refresher course in jewish foods terminology. BTW, the latkes were great, warmed up.
  • I now know so much about Meryl's and Susanna's best friends and feel I know them so well that, dang it, I guess we will be getting their children graduation gifts. All I can say is, those best friends have neat best friends.

If word count is worth anything, we had a ball. By any other measure, the same. I will never read Meryl's or Susanna's weblog now (note: these are links to their versions of the weekend) without being able to see their expressions and mannerisms, without hearing their words in their own very unique voices. There are people behind each of the million blogs out there. I have a start now at getting to know them personally. (Three, all totalled). Should even a tiny fraction of them be as genuine, capable and caring as these two gals and Kurt of Sainteros, this world is gonna make it, in spades.

Posted by fred1st at October 7, 2002 06:53 AM

You are an evil man! I had my leg crossed in just that way when I read your post and straightened my leg so fast I kicked my desk. Sheesh.

Posted by: susanna at October 7, 2002 07:34 AM

Still here, Fred! Glad to see that y'all had a good time.

Can the Coman family be next on the guest list? We'll most likely be up around the Christmas holiday. We won't spend the night but we will gladly sample your produce, if there's any left.

Posted by: Curt at October 7, 2002 09:04 AM

Fred--so glad the four of you had such a pleasant weekend. This morning is one of the those overcast cool days, and it reminds me of the day that Kristi and I also had the privilege of visiting you and Ann. Mist on the hills, friends around the hearth, somewhere up in the hills someone making moonshine. Does life get much better?

Kudos, by the way, to Ann, for continuing to be so hospitable to all your blogging friends.

Posted by: sainteros at October 7, 2002 09:48 AM

Yeah, there were two hawks circling for food as we watched the sun come over the ridge. Screaming their hawk scream, too.

I've only seen that in the movies. Well, I've seen hawks from far off in NJ, but never heard their cries.

Posted by: Meryl Yourish at October 7, 2002 09:32 PM

Post a comment

Remember Me?