I like the preliminary sketch you have sent for
I have questions. My questions will probably be today's
Is Linda making 70 pots for your son's wedding reception
in California? (Kim: Yes. She made
70. She probably made more. 5 go on each table.)
Are they centerpieces? Will they hold things? (Besides
good wishes) (Kim: Yes. They hold
paper flowers that she and Sarah (our daughter-in-law)
What color will they be? (Kim: White,
beige, and dark green.) Have
Josh and his partner determined colors for their wedding? (Kim:
Never asked. Don't know. The tablecloths are white.)
I always find that such a fascinating concept. And
also wonder why—with the wonderful spectrum
of color that nature and technology offers us—why people
often pick such anemic or sucky colors for their weddings? (Kim:
Heaven is always depicted as white.)
At least in Western culture they seem to. Taupe and
peach and mauve. Are they apprehensive about the
union and so want to be pastel about it? Or do those
colors constitute what is considered in many circles to
be good taste? And if so, why? (Kim:
OK. Back to the pots. Is Linda going to
ship the pots all the way out to California? (Kim:
The plan is that the three of us will carry them.)
That sounds very labor intensive. Just the packing and
shipping. Let alone the making of them. But she is
a potter. So maybe she is used to it.
Are they all in a similar style? Is she aiming for
some degree of uniformity? (Kim: Yes.
They are similar. Somewhat Morandi like. Little jewels.)
What happens to the pots after the wedding? Does
everybody take one home as an artifact from the occasion?
Is she making one for the two of you? (Kim:
Yes, every family gets to take home a pot. I don't know how
many are left.)
Can I have one? (Kim: I'll have to ask
I am really making you work today.
In part, because you sent me an evocative image and I want
to know more. And in part because I am not ready to write
about the fact that I have to have a mammogram this afternoon
and eight years after being diagnosed with breast cancer,
I still get nerved up when I have to go in.
Just the smell of the hospital and the sight of so many
women sitting their gowns waiting for their results can
bring tears to my eyes.
I think about what a hard time that was, when I was in
treatment. How lousy and scared and sad I felt. I
think about friends who have since died from breast cancer.
I am grateful to still be around and realize that, for
the moment, i would much rather write about happy things.
Like pots. and weddings, which are about the possibility
of partnership and a loving future.
So, today is about you. And not about me.
How does it feel to you to have a son who is married? (Kim:
It feels wonderful to have two terrific kids, and now to
have a daughter-in-law who is awesome. Her family is very
Who is old enough to be married? (Kim:
I don't think most people are old enough to have children
or teach. But then people get too old to do either. I think
it is hard to be married until you have married yourself
(i.e. figured out who you are and like yourself.))
How do you feel about the young woman with whom he is partnered? (Kim:
She was sent from Heaven to bring joy to all of us.)
Have you had any so called fatherly talks with Josh about
this latest step? (Kim: Josh has been
wiser than me since he was 5 or 6.)
How many years have you been married now? 30 what? (Kim:
What can you tell me about your own wedding? (Kim:
We went to the justice of the peace in Peoria. Then we went
to a hotel and had a drink.) Where
did it take place? What were the colors? (Kim:
Probably dark brown like any courthouse.) Were
there any pots? (Kim: Maybe some ashtrays.)
Do you have any advice for the rest of the world,
including me, about how to have a good marriage? (Kim:
Yes. Don't try to fix your mate. Don't rely on your mate
for meaning in your life.)
A happy marriage? (Kim: I think we should
focus on sharing a good life.)
Are those the same thing? (Kim: Happy
can be pretty thin. When you are always trying to push boundaries
I'm not sure happy is an everyday emotion. But life is fulfilling.
To expect that fulfillment purely in a relationship seems
flawed. Marriage is a partnership through which you discover,
see, and create.)
One more thing.
To you too.)
Monday, Dec 19, 2005