Mary was an occasional commenter on FITK in 2008.
Olive Thomas, c.1927
Thomsonite is a type of Zeolite found near Grand Marais. It is common in area gift shops and prized for its “abstract art” patterns:
Trail Center: Bakelite:
Another wistful look back at this glorious pre-covid event:
Some pictures of the legendary musician in action with The Wallets, Minneapolis, Summer of 1988:
That sparkle in her eye hasn’t changed one bit. She was still a teenager when we met, or maybe she was twenty? We’d see each other at the band’s gigs, and then, without fully realizing it, things got more social. Parties, where we all were checking each other out, then trips to the country to visit with Cara, her childhood friend. Those lazy afternoons seemed to last for days, not hours. No hassles, no pressure, no makeup even—unless it was for comic effect—for the gals and for the guys, as well. Then I got married, to someone outside of the group, but that didn’t end our friendship. The house next to where my wife and I were renting became vacant so we moved next door and Ivy and Izzy moved in. Hilarity ensued. More parties-did the mock-wrestling match really happen or was that a dream?-watching Ingmar Bergmann on the old black and white TV. Memories of simple things, like haircuts in the backyard, gain a præternatural aura, phenomena suspended between the mundane and the miraculous. And then the babies came and with them; milky breasts, dirty diapers, the laughter of toddlers, all the highs and lows concomitant with child-rearing. As they grew older there were more memories; glorious trips to the lake, riotous birthday parties, all the milestones of life, Ivy was in her glory. When we moved away from our enclave we still stayed in touch with her and the others. Paralleled lives, and now that the kids are grown and the dogs have died, we’re entering a new phase, it is not yet dark—it’s only October, not December. We are now just accidental traveling companions who reconnect from time to time, sharing notes on our respective journeys when we do meet.“… and that’s what I know,” she said, “how about you? What holds your interest?”
Tommy’s still the dabbler, the dreamer. All those outrageous stunts, I have to hand it to him, he tries. The bands, the art projects, that movie! And now, a novelist. It’s might be a good thing he wasn’t terribly successful at any of them, he’d probably be insufferable if he did make it big. This soiree he’s throwing is really just another art project, a chapter in the book of ‘us’. What we were and what we have become. This night won’t recapture the times we had back then, but it’ll be close enough.“Thanks for throwing this bash,” said Ivy, “It’s like old times, even though we can’t go back to past. When is the band playing?”