the memory of Mr Williams

Little miss Michelle didn't get to see the fruits of her gardening hard work, look at the size of her sunflowers about ten feet tall baby- and her squashes are enormous-her peas and beans are yummy but her salads all burned up in the crazy heat

this is my week so far-i crashed my van into the back of a truck, and let me tell ya- crashing in a van that close to the windshield is fucking frightening- nice driving-idiot-i picked ripe and not so ripe figs at Suja's and Richards- meet the Pie shop building owner- raided a haunted house-surfed, hiked and slack lined for hours-saw my orthopedic surgeon- went to the dentist and it's only Wednesday

now i can't sell it, and now i have to buy a parts van for the rear and front bumpers/ windshield and misc. see more at Blownbrown, baby

early in the summer the stickle backs all died and dried out in the sun so i brought them home and lacquered them aren't they cute ?

the new museum to white people

palate art

sleepy crow

Mr. Williams moved into this house in 1941- to work for the war effort- Boeing and the shipyard-later he had a little candy store around the corner near the church where he was deacon, he and his wife raised 27 foster children here- when i moved next door, at 97 he would be out back working his collared greens and plums- he had a son who went to jail-and who Mr. Williams was holding on for, the sons truck was parked out back for years, Mr. Williams died a few years ago the house was foreclosed and sold twice the truck was towed away-the new owners are bringing in the bulldozers and track hoe this week-

back in St Louis Mr. Williams worked on the railroad- i poached this out of his basement-

i climbed into the basement and found his little work shop and Jesus it made me so sad- here he was working his whole life for this house and kids and now a fucking yellow machine is going to mush it all up and cart it all away to be buried for future archaeologist

one of the kids scratched their name on the side and someone later taped their name to the bottom of this lovely lunch box, there's really old wax paper inside it still

one of the great grand kids- TT i think her name is, her girlfriends used to hang out on the front porch and smoke and drink jug wine, Mr. Williams told us that his wife had hidden all the family photos somewhere, and when she died they couldn't be found, that's what i was looking for as Henry, Hewitt and i were removing all the architectural wood work- the guys who are developing the land gave us permission

So we raided the place

And the ghost of Mr. Williams asked me to find a picture of him as a young man standing on the porch with his wife and little kids with suits and Sunday hats

I'm going back later this week-

to help remember the guy who used to say hello to me everyday, and ask me to light his gas heater every Autumn push his sons car around the corner and one cold night he asked me to call the police because some one had taken his daughter Susan- and i did- holding onto the old man as he cried and the police rolled their eyes

i even went to his funeral to say good bye and here I'll say good bye again Mr. Williams, It was sure nice to met you, good bye.

they should have just buried you and the house together.