This Place Is Full Of Adventures And Flowers

This Place Is Full Of Adventures And Flowers

The highlight of the drive to see Katie this morning (after three hours sleep) was listening to Issac Hayes' Hot Buttered Soul. Maybe I need to stop going after hot girls and let a bald black man make sweet love to me. Shit, that's some good stuff. The bass groove on Hyperbolicsyllabicsesqued alymistic is the stuff hard-ons are made of.

As I type, Zappa is tearing my soul apart with one of the most perfect guitar solos in recorded history, on Any Kind Of Pain. From the Broadway The Hard Way album. As further proof of how fucking incredible Mike Keneally is, THAT motherfucker actually played this damn solo nearly note-perfect on the Zappa's Universe video. He brings the bus ride to a thrilling conclusion.

Also cranked up the first Mono Puff album, the side project from John Flansburgh of They Might Be Giants' fame. There's a KILLER instrumental surf-guitar tune (Guitar Was The Case) at the begining of that album that FUCKS MY SOUL. Holy goddamn gee-tar-bangin' shit. It hit my head. Now I'm left-handed.

Katie and I had an incredible day up at Caesar's Creek State Park, near Waynesville, Ohio. I've gone on at length before about the odd connection I felt to this place when I found out how many of my ancestors lived there, but it truly is a beautiful part of the world to spend an afternoon.

We had a picnic at one of the shelters, then walked down a trail beside the lake. She spent 45 minutes digging in the mud with a stick as the waves came in from the speedboats across the lake. She was VERY INTENT on her digging. I just sat there and watched her. I'd told her about another ittle girl who might have played there back when it was just a creek, before the Army Corps Of Engineers created the resevoir in 1975. "Katie, you know your Grandma? My mommy? Her grandma had a grandma who was born here. I bet she used to play by the river when she was a girl."

For all I know she stayed in a log cabin and ate grubs. But to see my daughter playing at this place was...spiritual? I have no idea how to describe it. I have come to slowly almost accept that I'll never leave the Midwest. I haven't made myself LIKE this inevitability yet, but when I go back to southwest Ohio, I know where I might be able to be happy the rest of my life. Maybe. Something tells me I'll be back there next summer. and I really want to live as close to Caesar's Creek as possible. I feel somthing there that I don't get anywhere else.

We walked through the trees, and back out to the picnic area, then over to another trail. As we walked back into the woods, Katie noticed the wild flowers growing. "Daddy, this place is full of adventures and flowers."

I liked that.

We sat for 15 minutes at a little fishing hole where maybe a dozen people (apparantly the same family) were fishing. We watched a boy let a fish off the hook back into the water. I told Katie I need to learn how to fish all over again. It's been 20 years since I went up to my grandparents' lake place and sat out there fishing. I never got that good at it, but I'd love to fish with Katie.

Later, when we were nearly home, I told her that I was going to talk to Mom and Dad about coming down there so we could all go back and visit together. They havne't been there in a while.

Katie said "And Mommy can come too! And my whole family! We can all fish together!"

"That would be nice, honey." I don't see it ever happening. But hope is alive inside my daughter. Every once in a while she says something like that, something that lets me know she's still thinking about when we were all together. It breaks my heart, but what do I say to her? Let her have her dreams. They're probably much better ones than mine anyway.

We drove into Waynesville and got gas, then over to the old Quaker cemetery. "The little girl I told you about who was born here? Your grandma's grandma's grandma? Her grandparents are buried right here."

She looked at the worn stones. "They must be really old."

"They've been dead for 150 years, honey. But they were very interesting people."

I told her about this part of her family. How they were among the first white people to live in the area, how they came here because they wanted to live in a place away from slavery. I told her about slavery, about Quakers, about what makes me want to visit this place as often as I can, the connection I feel to these people.

"Daddy, did they make the little black kids be slaves too?"

The concern in her voice...

"Yes, honey. But these people didn't believe people should be slaves, and that's why they came here. And slavery is no longer allowed in this country. It was made against the law soon after these people buried here died."

"Are you sure the little black kids had to be slaves too?"

The things you have to explain to a four-year old...

She seemed satisfied when we left. As we drove off, I told her how much I appreciated the way she thinks.

"Ever tell your kids, you're glad that they can think?" - Frank Zappa

"Katie, i'm glad you asked me about the little black kids, that you wanted to know I was telling the truth."

"I believe what you say, Daddy."

Ouch. This kid has a lot to learn...

"I'm glad you do, honey. and I always try to tell you the truth. but that's what I want to talk to you about now. Most people who tell you things are probably trying to tell you the truth. But we don't always know what we're talking about. Sometimes we're wrong. And that's OK, becuase we're all just hmans, and we're all still learning stuff. But we are wrong somtimes. And I'm glad you asked me these questions, because that's what you should always do. Always question what people tell you. they're probably nice people and they believe what they say, but you have to find the truth out for yourself. Don't let other people tell you things without always questioning if it's right. Including me. I don't always get it right either. I'm your Daddy, and you might have to do what I tell you sometimes, but that doesn't mean you have to believe everything I say. I might be wrong sometimes. Always ask questions, honey. Always."

"OK, Daddy."

i wonder if anyone else will ever say that to her. I figure it's my job. i don't know if I can teach her much else, but I can teach her that adults are full of shit sometimes. And it's OK to know that, it's OK to question. Do it the right way. Don't be an asshole about it (like, say, your daddy half the time) but never stop questioning. it's the only way we truly learn anything.

Or maybe not. Maybe sometimes we learn simply from staying still long enough to let it all sink in. Like the way we did by the lake, the way we did when we watched those people fish, the way we did again later by the creek before we left. We said very little to each other. Just sat there and watched. Quietly observing. i don't do that often enough. i figure few of us do. Something else to teach my girl, though based on today, I think she knows it quite well already.

She napped for half an hour after we left, driving back towards her house. We ate at a Mexican place (her idea) and went back home. I'll be with her again in four days. I can't wait. I still feel this huge wall between my life here in Indianapolis and back there with her in the Cincinnati area, but i'm finally coming to terms with it, and i'm learning how to get what I need from both. Being with her is the one truly pure experience I have all week. She's full of questions and observations. This world is still new to her. She hasn't let it beat the hell out of her the way I have been stupid enough to do. And I think i have more to learn from her than i'll ever be able to teach.

As we drove to the cemetery and I gave her the back-history of the area, She seemed to be actually somewhat interested. She said "Daddy, you know a lot of interesting stuff. You should be a teacher. That's what grownups do when they're really smart. They become teachers."

It filled me full of warm fuzzies. But I couldn't tell her what I really felt. That I'm actually dumb as a box of shit about most stuff, and it's a constant source of irritation. I don't tell her that, because she shouldn't have to grow up like that. She shouldn't have to feel the ludicrous need I feel to be better than what I (or anyone) is capable of really being. The self-loathing that comes wit not matching up to something that is impossible for a human being to match up to. I don't want her to ever have to feel like that. I'm having a fuck of a time stopping myself. But as long as I have her to learn with, to observe with, to walk through the trees and watch the birds and throw stones into the water with, I don't have to feel like shit either. I'm back to that newness when I'm with her. That sense of adventure. I can teach her that. That people try to take it away from us, but we shouldn't let them. It never really leaves us. We just sometimes need a Katie around to bring it back out.

It's only been three hours since I left. And I miss her already.

Love,
Doug