Jeremy L. C. Jones has a piece about his childhood in Cooperstown in Strange Horizons. I like it a lot, and not just because he gives me a nod! (Thanks, Jeremy!) I see Pomeroy Place every day of my life here, and I know a lot of practical, straightforward people who claim to have seen ghosts. Although I thought that our 1808 federal-style house had been one of the ones to escape haunting, evidently Mrs. Lee (two owners back) came down the front stairs and swept into the living room to find three little children dancing in a ring, each dressed in old-fashioned clothing. She turned to call to her husband upstairs, and when she looked, they were gone.
I'm not telling my youngest, who used to be powerfully afraid of "G's," as he called them. G's. It was dangerous even to say the word...
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Pub date for A Death at the White Camellia Orphanage arrives in four little days! Kindly spread the word, O great Word of Mouth...
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
4 comments:
Alas, I must once again remind large numbers of Chinese salesmen and other worldwide peddlers that if they fall into the Gulf of Spam, they will be eaten by roaming Balrogs. The rest of you, lovers of grace, poetry, and horses (nod to Yeats--you do not have to be fond of horses), feel free to leave fascinating missives and curious arguments.
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Oh, Marly, this is a beautiful piece, had me nodding with agreement many times, and feeling wistful for such a place of history and story, the feeling of family roots and rootedness in place. How wonderful for you to live in such a place.
ReplyDeleteYes, it isn't "my" place, but I appreciate it--I wanted to buy my maternal family home a few years back, but it is (though quite beautiful) absolutely nowhere! Cooperstown also has a very bookish tradition, starting with James Fenimore Cooper.
ReplyDeleteI'm surprised no Gs have turned up (in the G-spot, perhaps?) to read your stories and poems, looking over your shoulder. Maybe you have tamed them.
ReplyDeleteHah. Perhaps they do look over my shoulder...
ReplyDelete