a basketful of little people’s questions
every year around the beginning of spring the local elementary school
blows about twelve bucks on helium balloons which the little people
(except the disappearing ones, who are in camera-guarded detention)
attach by string to outdated card catalogue cards, the blank sides
printed with the school’s address and simple instructions for reply: who
are you? where did this balloon land? and a blank space where each kid
can write in his/her own question. Just before school lets out, they go
to the playground and release the whole bunch into the gray skies,
staring up until they can’t see them anymore, or until the bell rings. I
live about three miles from the school so I wasn’t too suprised to see
clumps of balloons float by, but then I saw a bunch with their strings
knotted together, stuck in a tree. I went to spring them but a number of
the balloons had popped, so I thought about it for a minute and then cut
the cards free, headed back to the house and made a list of everyone I
knew, or half-knew, who lived in other countries. After I found thirty
addresses (I used to be a lot more social, when I was an up-and-coming
academic whippersnapper instead of a down-and-out public embarassment) I
wrote short letters to each, explaining my plan, including the cards,
and headed off to the post office (where I am loved, as mine is the Post
Office of Unearthly Delights, but I’ll get into that later). I realize
this is cheating, a bit, but who wants a letter from a Jessup farmkid
when you can get a letter from a proper Balinese chanteuse?
(12:13.05.19.2005) [/ana] #