Remember ESOPUS 16 Spring 2011? I think this is one of my most favorite images out of all the fantastic images therein. I never put my copy away. I came across it the other day in the middle of a marathon cleaning session, stacked with other "keepers." Where's yours? When's the last time someone asked, "Ma'am, did you pack your own bag?" If a questioner of limners asked me that today. Okay. I'd have to be checking my bag first, but let's pretend, okay?
If the questioner, whose job it is to ask foolish questions were to ask, Ma'am, did you pack your own bag?" "You know I did." Is what I'd reply. Then I'd open my suitcase and insist on showing my mail. The End. Because some of us know that the only time my mail is this orderly is when it's being archived. Right? Once upon a time this sweet little suitcase kept my letter-writing paraphernalia at the ready. It never ever complained. But I did. I complained that, Everything has Paris or the Eiffel Tower on it! I'm not even French! This is America!" And, "Art imitates life? Ha!" So what if the French had suitcases first? And maybe they had a postal system before Americans were even a glimmer in their forefathers' eyes. This is still America. So I tucked the case under my long gray bench and forgot it until I'd tripped over a corner that reached out to grab me, or I'd banged an ankle as I tried to walk past and watch Manu Genobli or Tony Parker score at the same time. Today is D Day. Destination Day. A day when art imitates art. And here we have it. Mama's repurposed an offensive new old bag!
Here we have seven letters waiting! For what, you might wonder? Why, they are waiting for the mail bag, of course! I've developed a habit of waiting for a stack to rise like my mama's biscuits used to rise in a warm spot, under a tea towel, before I trek to the post office. Am behind as usual but I am on a roll. It's too hot to do much of anything outside after 10 AM. So cleaning, doing laundry and playing with paper trumps heatstroke any day.