It is as if we are all sitting around a great campfire watching the occasional spark soar up into the night sky. We watch it until it disappears, and then we once again look at each other and go on with our conversation. If we’re lucky, the conversation will be a spooky ghost story, making us scared, while at the same time, causing us to huddle closer together.
For today, for right now, lets just talk about the spark. That brief moment in time when we feel good, our lives are going well, and just outside the window – spring is in full bloom. (Use your imagination)
I sat in one of those soft, leather chairs at the bookstore. I had picked up a book called, A Salty Piece of Land, by Tully Mars, better known in the music world as Jimmy Buffet. The story he was telling was itself just such a spark. It was an up-lifting adventure that stuck with me. It was like so many little things in life that let us ride on them until we ourselves disappear into the night sky.
We’ve met people like that before. We don’t seem to find them very often, but once in a while we will meet someone that just seems plugged into the universe. They seem to have achieved self ‘actualization. It’s like they have an inner peace that transcends the daily grind.
There are pieces of artwork that can summon these same feelings. You find yourself staring at them, getting lost in the moment, mentally drifting deep into the canvas. Sparks left from artists long past, still carrying us along, still a vibrant part of the great campfire.
On Christmas Eve I stood, for a second time, in a long checkout line at Rudy’s Market. I had gone through the line the first time and bought mushrooms, then my wife reminded me that we also needed potato chips, so I went back into the store, selected a bag of chips and rejoined the long checkout line.
Robert, seeing me once again in line got a puzzled look on his face. I held up the bag of chips, to show him that I had forgotten to get them my first time through. He smiled and pointed to the door, saying, ‘Just go, the chips are on me.?
Again, I found myself looking deep into the canvas that is Clarkston, and seeing the little sparks that make a community feel like home. Even if I had opted to stay and wait in line, it was enjoyable talking to those around me, people who had stories to tell, scary stories of unemployment, and stock market losses, casually shared right there in front of the onions.
Perhaps the key to getting through scary stories, is occasionally poking the fire, but while holding tight to a positive attitude. I remember reading an interview with Groucho Marks. Asked if he had any trouble sleeping after the crash of 29, he said, ‘No, I just lay down and start subtracting sheep.?
Harvey Sarkisian of Independence Township has written short stories, plays, humorous soap opera, and a seemingly endless collection of poetry. He has taught creative writing in Clarkston, and is writing a children’s book blending learning, adventure and humor.