Guest Post Tonight

• Location: The Stranger newspaper box, Georgetown Truck Stop, Washington State
• Date: May 8, 2008
• Description: white crane with hand-drawn 3-D pie chart sliced up, with the word “piece” pointing to a slice of the pie

My friend Liz, who I like to call “the poetry doctor,” was on sabbatical this past spring and spent her time traversing the country. You may remember her from this post. Liz is a crane-folder who, out of the blue, sent me an email with today’s post. Thank goodness, or else you would’ve had to see pictures of my most recent artwork (this could’ve gotten ugly). Her whole email is peace-like, right down to the quote at the end. Here’s what she wrote:

This craning episode comes from Washington State, where I visited the family earlier this month. One day I hung out with my brother in Seattle and we had breakfast at a great spot — The Georgetown Truck Stop. My brother is the one who first taught me how to fold cranes, and who folded me a thousand cranes when I was finishing up my Ph.D. He has a mess of tiny paper cranes in his car because he folds them habitually from ferry receipts. He says receipt paper is excellent crane folding paper, by the way. Anyhow, his car cranes made me think of the Crane project and how I should have my brother fold a peace crane (or, as it happens, a ‘piece’ crane) while we were in Seattle. So, after our fabulous breakfast, I commissioned him to fold one. From a receipt. We left it in a newspaper box on top of the May 8 issue of The Stranger, right next to the Georgetown Truck Stop. I’ll also paste in a poem I wrote years ago (published in Prairie Schooner at some point) about folding cranes (and my brother, and other stuff):

The Thousand

In memory, cranes have wings –
but in the now, this one’s flightless,
its wings somehow folded safe
inside the wrinkled body.

Some folds seem familiar
like streets I’ve driven twice,
but with the inevitable wrong
turn, the incorrect fold.

He taught me to fold them
with a trained patience,
talked me through and showed
my fingers what his already knew.

I thought I’d fold a crane a day
until I hit the thousand –
transcendance, wishes granted,
the number of will and desire.

Like other plans, this one
never took shape, never fleshed
out past the mere bones
of an idea. Today, though,

I’m suddenly needy for it,
wanting to do it, or just
to know I know how to do it –
but I can’t call it back.

I remember so much: the wristed
trick of cat’s cradle, the folds
for hats, boats, and the squared-off
finger fortune tellers from school.

But not this simple skill, a gift
of one winter afternoon
when I asked and he agreed
and he was my teacher.

The thousand cranes I never
folded? The wish never asked for
or even imagined? Maybe today
they call to me, try to remind me

how to gather and fold –
this crease a beak, that fold
a wing — an envelope
that’s closed and open, containing

and becoming the wonderful news
of itself. The paper-thin whispers
of the not-yet-cranes, and the fingers
of my brother, folding.

Happy craning!

Liz

‘War is God’s way of teaching Americans geography.’ — Ambrose Bierce

Here are some more of their photos. Good stuff, Liz!

If you’ve made it this far, don’t forget to check out my picture from yesterday, which I haven’t uploaded yet, but I have faith in WordPress, so I’ll tell you to go check it now now and then go try to upload.

Catching Up

• Location: a pot, William-Sonoma, Burlington Mall
• Date: April 5, 2008
• Description: White crane with the poem “Facing it” by Yusef Komunyakaa written in yellow

I don’t know if you’ve ever read the poem “Facing it,” but I have; it’s about a veteran confronting his demons at the Vietnam War Memorial in Washington D.C. The poem makes me think about the price of war, both on a grand scale (58,022 U.S. soldiers died in Vietnam) and on a personal level. I feel like this poem is one of the most accessible to people who don’t usually go for poetry — it has a lot of imagery and not a lot of overt metaphor, so it’s easy to read. Also, most people have seen or heard of the Vietnam War Memorial, which means that most people can relate in some way.

We headed to the Burlington Mall to pick up our new pizza stone, courtesy of Cheryl. I must say, William-Sonoma is ridiculously overpriced. We could have paid $16.50 for a new ice cream scoop, but Seth vetoed the idea. Oh well. The movie people weren’t filming the Kevin James movie yesterday afternoon, so we got a close-up view of the ball pit, the fake kiosks, and two fake store-fronts. Someone removed the dented minivan.

I’ve finally gotten around to posting about another Crane Project. This other person folds polymer clay and wax cranes and writes information about those who have died due to the war on each crane — sort of a visual confirmation of the price of war. She’ll fold over 4000 cranes for her installation, and she’s been kind enough to keep me in her list of links (many thanks!). She’s also included a link to a really great “how to fold cranes” website, in case you want to learn.

That’s it for today. And as a public service announcement, please bring reusable grocery bags with you whenever you go shopping. Thank you.

To Go Boldly Forth

• Location: a booth in Uno’s
• Date: March 9, 2008
• Description: gray crane with part of the Anne Sexton poem Jesus Dies written on it.

I chose this poem for today’s crane because of the part that goes “The soldiers down below/laughing as soldiers have done for centuries./No news./We are the same men,/you and I.” That struck a chord with me. It’s as though soldiers never change. Why is that? Has there ever been a time where when the people on Earth have been able to coexist peacefully? I suppose even in times of peace, it’s important to keep a “well regulated militia” (as the second amendment goes — isn’t it neat that I knew that by heart? I think so. By the way, check out this neat shirt.). So does that mean that we’ll always have soldiers, even if we don’t use them?

Over the past few years, I’ve been getting into Star Trek — first Next Generation, then Enterprise, then Voyager. They seem to be approaching a perfect society. Where is their military? They’re all training to go into outer space. Well, only the Navy folks, really. So does that mean the Army and Air Force disbanded? Do they keep them well regulated in case the Vulcans get out of hand? Meanwhile, Gene Roddenberry wrote his stuff so that everyone on the ships get along.

Well, anyway, let’s not wax on about the military. It’s obvious that I know very little about that sort of thing. I went to my new job for the second day today, and the only things I could think about today were my two nephews. I hope their lives get back to normal sometime soon.