Truth be known, I woke up with a bit of intriguing envy this morning. Some good friends of ours from here in Denver are about to embark on a road trip to San Francisco to see their son and daughter-in-law. From there they will nead north on California Highway 1...joining US 101...and continue driving the coastlline all the way to Seattle...just for the fun of it. Since this corner of the country is fairly familiar to us (my having been born and raised in Oregon), they invited us to help them plan their trip.
One stop we encouraged them to make, without a doubt, is in Newport, Oregon. There they will be spending a couple of nights at the Sylvia Beach Hotel.
If you've ever been to Paris, France and had the privilege of wandering through the electic, charming bookstore across from Notre Dame called Shakespeare & Co....you will know that Sylvia Beach (1887-1962) owned that places years, and years ago. Sylvia once said, "Fitting people with books is about as difficult as fitting them with shoes."
Well...story too long for here...but when we have some in-person conversation...ask for more of the story.......this week while working on my massive re-filing project I found the following I had copied from the walls of the Sylvia Beach Hotel..owned by a a wild, marvelous woman from Portland, Oregon, named Goodie Cable. You can read more about the evolution of the hotel on the website about how she, and some friends, have turned a ramshackle old place on the beachin to a place where one needs to stay at least once in a life time...if not several times.
Up on the wall of the third floor library, with vistas up and down the Oregon coast, where tea and coffee is always available amidst books and books and books, I found this on the wall on our last visit to the hotel. Worth pondering...as summer begins...and most of us continue to give out and take in words...and arrange for our summer reading:
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The Zodiac of Words...by Phil Smith
Some words are spoken of as though they were a whisper.
Some words are the wings of small birds that fly out of the skirts of a young woman.
Some words are like the daggers of moonlight that pierce the darkness of silent rooms.
Some words are like the deep vowels of old women chanting prayers.
Some words are exactly like the lies false lovers tell each other on their way towards betrayal.
Some words are so delicate they barely fit into your hand...disappear without a trace.
Some words are like the snow that steeps in the memory.
Some words are like stolen corn eaten in the last innocence of childhood.
Some words die of their own weight like buildings so tired they collapse of sadness.
Some words are like bread being given to a dying leader.
Some words are more hungry than hunger.
Some words are the mask the executioneer wears...two eyes and no smile.
Some words are made up of so many broken matchsticks they will never again make fire.
And some words are like saying goodbye in a train station one has never known.
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Knowing this will be read by a great gathering of creative people, you included, what would you add to this. Make some tea...take a deep breath...exhale as far as you can...breath in, 'til you can't take in any more...and write some of your own good thoughts this weekend.
Some words are ____________________________________
...and let's all meet up at the Sylvia Beach Hotel some time for a few days.