You’re very skilled in describing the emotional impact of sudden observations, Simon. I appreciate how you draw out in a 3 minute read what might you felt in an instant. I wish I could articulate it in a better way, but maybe you understand what I mean.
Such an excellent resource! Actually there's a new book coming out, The Deorhord by Hannah Videen. I've managed to get hold of an advanced copy. It's a medieval bestiary of Old English animals. I shall have to look up what birds are included.
During the peak of the pandemic, while I was working in the second busiest ER in NYC, I had a day off and spent an unexpected hour watching birds in a bush. A group tended to congregate just outside my apartment building, but there was a mob of them that morning. It looked like someone might have strewn seeds. They didn’t take off when I approached and I sat there watching them interact and eat and flit around. It was such a simple thing, but I’d never been so close for birds for so long. At one point, a few seemed to consider me, size me up, and then continue with their business. Instead of a category like "bird," each seemed to assert their presence as a tiny conscious being, living amongst us but separate from us, and I felt like we were mutually curious about one another for a time. It’s a moment that’s stayed with me for a long time, even though the actual interaction, like with your Kingfisher, was so brief. Thanks for sharing.
No, thank you Bess for sharing that. I used to live in NYC. I was finishing my PhD and spending too long glaring at a computer screen. I'd head off into Central Park and marvel at Cardinals and Blue Jays and all these birds we don't have in the UK. And be comforted by this wildness in the middle of the city.
I can only begin to imagine what seeing those birds must have been like at the height of the pandemic. Everything did seem different then, maybe we needed to notice things that helped us escape the claustrophobia of being human in those times.
It was lovely, and kind of funny since one of my neighbors caught me crouching on the sidewalk (we were in Stuy Town since you're familiar, so. I wasn't exactly on the street, but it's NYC, so why not, who'd have cared) and she looked at the birds, then at me, then at the birds and goes, "well, whatever gets you through." I also loved the Central Park birds, but more than that I loved the birders. They're crazy! My Aunt was one. They're so competitive, it's truly amazing. I have a short story somewhere about them. I had no idea it was such a cutthroat activity. I assume most people love the birds in central parks, barring the lady whose poor mini-dog-of-some-kind was caught by the hawk. oops.
The day you saw a kingfisher, I went for a walk and had blue jays shouting at me the entire way. Flash of blue, but far less magical. Alas, that we have no kingfishers around here.
They are noisy aren't they. Poor things, they don't get to be magical. Context is everything: starlings are magical in murmuration. But they are hooligans on the garden feeder.
I loved this essay, and have lately been thinking about the different phases of the life of one’s memory. My memories are starting to break down, so that they are starting to become less coherent narratives and more sense memories, feelings, and a scrabble of associations, as you have described. I still remember places, names and dates, but a lot of other pure objective factual stuff is slipping away.
There are a number of us out there who talked to themselves (and told themselves stories) as children. And we all have the urge to go back to hear those stories again!
Thank you for sharing your thoughts! Memory is endlessly fascinating, and so intimate and personal. I keep wondering whether somethings are lost completely, or whether they will stroll around the corner one day.
Seeing that flash of electric blue is always so magical. This year I was lucky enough to watch one sitting in a tree and to appreciate the fiery orange of their front, the side of them we don't usually get to see as they fleetingly fly by
Oh lucky you! I saw a variety in India in the backwaters of Kerala a few years back. They were big beats compares to these little ones. I think I spent too long trying to get the perfect photo when I should have just been enjoying their grace.
How wonderful the way you remember these stories from childhood -- especially “the last one” -- as if aware at the time of their fleetingness. At the same time, here you are returning to some version of them. Thanks for a great post as well as your link to my work on memory last week!
Thank you, yes! Obviously I had no idea it would be the "last one" and then that's what the memory became. I often think it isn't about preserving them, which is impossible, but engaging with them and letting them change shape.
So lovely Simon! A perfect interleaving of all those stories and thoughts and images.
Thank you Anne.
You’re very skilled in describing the emotional impact of sudden observations, Simon. I appreciate how you draw out in a 3 minute read what might you felt in an instant. I wish I could articulate it in a better way, but maybe you understand what I mean.
That's very kind. I often don't know how I do what I do, even when I've done it!
Lovely, Simon. Most grateful to be included. Those fleeting glimpses of Kingfishers are such a treat. Also, how great is Medieval Bestiary..?!
Such an excellent resource! Actually there's a new book coming out, The Deorhord by Hannah Videen. I've managed to get hold of an advanced copy. It's a medieval bestiary of Old English animals. I shall have to look up what birds are included.
That sounds fantastic, I’d be very interested to hear
Thank you, a lovely way to start my day. I now have a yearning for blue lined sleeves!
Not a bad outfit! Although it didn't end too well for Jane (but I guess not because of the sleeves).
Beautiful! Spotting a kingfisher is such happiness.
Thank you, it's just a delight.
Beautiful. I saw my first kingfisher in the wild a few months ago, it’s such a magical experience.
Oh wonderful! And yes, unforgettable.
I really enjoyed this. Sounds like a superb memory in formation! I saw a kingfisher last weekend, the first I'd seen in years. A lovely sight indeed.
It's impossible not to be excited by this! It doesn't matter how brief the sighting, you know you're not going to forget it.
These are so enviably drawn together, your life and the stories you have researched and read brilliantly interwoven.
Many thanks, that's very kind.
Really beautiful. I love the combination of lyricism and footnotes.
Thank you! Yes, that's definitely my shtick, lyricism with footnotes.
I so love kingfishers!
During the peak of the pandemic, while I was working in the second busiest ER in NYC, I had a day off and spent an unexpected hour watching birds in a bush. A group tended to congregate just outside my apartment building, but there was a mob of them that morning. It looked like someone might have strewn seeds. They didn’t take off when I approached and I sat there watching them interact and eat and flit around. It was such a simple thing, but I’d never been so close for birds for so long. At one point, a few seemed to consider me, size me up, and then continue with their business. Instead of a category like "bird," each seemed to assert their presence as a tiny conscious being, living amongst us but separate from us, and I felt like we were mutually curious about one another for a time. It’s a moment that’s stayed with me for a long time, even though the actual interaction, like with your Kingfisher, was so brief. Thanks for sharing.
No, thank you Bess for sharing that. I used to live in NYC. I was finishing my PhD and spending too long glaring at a computer screen. I'd head off into Central Park and marvel at Cardinals and Blue Jays and all these birds we don't have in the UK. And be comforted by this wildness in the middle of the city.
I can only begin to imagine what seeing those birds must have been like at the height of the pandemic. Everything did seem different then, maybe we needed to notice things that helped us escape the claustrophobia of being human in those times.
It was lovely, and kind of funny since one of my neighbors caught me crouching on the sidewalk (we were in Stuy Town since you're familiar, so. I wasn't exactly on the street, but it's NYC, so why not, who'd have cared) and she looked at the birds, then at me, then at the birds and goes, "well, whatever gets you through." I also loved the Central Park birds, but more than that I loved the birders. They're crazy! My Aunt was one. They're so competitive, it's truly amazing. I have a short story somewhere about them. I had no idea it was such a cutthroat activity. I assume most people love the birds in central parks, barring the lady whose poor mini-dog-of-some-kind was caught by the hawk. oops.
I was actually just thinking of the birders and their cameras! Oh nyc was full of so many characters.
This is lovely, Simon.
Thank you Jolene.
Loved all of this--memory as archive, Wolf Hall. So glad to have found your newsletter.
Great to have you here John!
The day you saw a kingfisher, I went for a walk and had blue jays shouting at me the entire way. Flash of blue, but far less magical. Alas, that we have no kingfishers around here.
They are noisy aren't they. Poor things, they don't get to be magical. Context is everything: starlings are magical in murmuration. But they are hooligans on the garden feeder.
I loved this essay, and have lately been thinking about the different phases of the life of one’s memory. My memories are starting to break down, so that they are starting to become less coherent narratives and more sense memories, feelings, and a scrabble of associations, as you have described. I still remember places, names and dates, but a lot of other pure objective factual stuff is slipping away.
There are a number of us out there who talked to themselves (and told themselves stories) as children. And we all have the urge to go back to hear those stories again!
Thank you for sharing your thoughts! Memory is endlessly fascinating, and so intimate and personal. I keep wondering whether somethings are lost completely, or whether they will stroll around the corner one day.
Seeing that flash of electric blue is always so magical. This year I was lucky enough to watch one sitting in a tree and to appreciate the fiery orange of their front, the side of them we don't usually get to see as they fleetingly fly by
Oh lucky you! I saw a variety in India in the backwaters of Kerala a few years back. They were big beats compares to these little ones. I think I spent too long trying to get the perfect photo when I should have just been enjoying their grace.
How wonderful the way you remember these stories from childhood -- especially “the last one” -- as if aware at the time of their fleetingness. At the same time, here you are returning to some version of them. Thanks for a great post as well as your link to my work on memory last week!
Thank you, yes! Obviously I had no idea it would be the "last one" and then that's what the memory became. I often think it isn't about preserving them, which is impossible, but engaging with them and letting them change shape.
That’s a lovely idea.
This is what I love about Substack and the comments…discovering other fascinating writers! Kathleen I am intrigued by your work and have subscribed!
Superb. I think what I like about Kathleen's writing is you can really feel her enthusiasm and curiosity about storytelling.
Thanks so much! Happy to have you on there as well :)