|Project by Mark Wilson||posted 09-27-2015 01:38 AM||910 views||0 times favorited||12 comments|
I wrote a big illustrated missive on this – moving story included – got to loading the main photos of the finished piece, and my stupid computer locked up, and I lost it. Here’s a truncated version.
The victim, Myrtle.
The inspiration. Note the box inserts. Myrtle
I hadn’t worked with Myrtle before. Now I had know what’s in there.
I was right in my suspicion that it would look at least a little like Olive wood. As it turns out, it’s not a little like Chinese Elm.
BLO wakes her up and makes her sing.
Hollowed to fit a tea candle. Spit and polish.
And the touching story, in case you feel robbed.
Myrtle was a girl who was married to a boy named Ernie. According to my late and beloved Momma, they were the fist two people – outside my family and outside the delivery room – to have held the infant Mark in their arms on the Sunday after the sacred day of my birth. They were beloved to me for many years as I grew. I think of Myrtle whenever I see or think about Myrtle wood, though Myrtle wasn’t a pretty woman, like the wood. (She was built like a German tank.) But she was a good human and Ernie thought the world of her. And I remember her with fondness.