geographical precision II

before leaving indianapolis
i did manage to locate the first house
in which i came to know
if not understand
the meaning of home

for i left that place before i was
fully two years old
and the family relocated in
bismarck north dakotah

so on a warm and balmy monday
morning in june
i drove around in the northwest area
of north indianapolis
until i found W 57th St
just off of Michigan road

there on the corner
at 1780 W 57th st
stands a small french looking
farmstyle house
made of indiana sandstone
and brick
the shutters and woodtrim
are in need of repair and paint
the yard is large
large enough for little children to
explore the world in

i stopped my car
and looked around while
a large bearlike dog leashed to a tree
barked

i knocked on the front door
there was no answer
so i felt the stone and brick
and took in the place
all the while checking inward
for some sort of awareness
a sentiment

all i could come up with was
i was somewhat excited

so i wandered around in back
and i heard the faint sound of a radio
and without hesitation
knocked on the back door

a man a bit taller than i
with long brown hair
and a beard
came to the door
and inquired as to my purpose
quite friendly

i told him that this is the house
where my family made a home
from 1954-1957
and i just wanted to make some
connection with the place

michael davidson
then stepped out onto the littel brickfloor porch
shook my hand
and asked me to sit

we ended up talking about life
he it turns out is something of a philosopher
haviung read and discussed nietzche
and the french existentialists rather indepth
at one point with a writing philosopher
who is now in berlin

i revealed to michael that i am a monk
that i am a devoted THOMIST
and that i am currently at work
arranging music for a group of monks
in the desert of southeast arizona
and that i am exploring the world of folk/country
and from there we began talking about music and
musical influences
turns out michael played blues and soul (bass)
for many years

during a a pause i stated i had my guitar along
and i could play a few tunes as long as we were just sitting there

he was enthusiastic about that idea
so i grapped miss loprinzi
and set out playing 3 songs
"poor wayfarin' stranger"
"hickory wind"
"life is like a mountain railroad"
all the while little stinger flies
had their way on my shins

michael's significant other
drove up right about the time i was finishing up
my last song
and he introduced us

as it turns out laurie's (?) brother
is looking into monastic life at this very moment

we chatted a bit more
she acknowledged that she raised five kids in that house
the youngest now in her early 20's

and it looked like enough was enough
so i shook there hands
michael had written his address down
and wants to be in touch

i discerned that something was
urgent in the life of these two
and i the stranger was a bit of a complication in that

it was an important pilgrimage
to stand beside the structure
where i first learned to see
and utter my first words

i did not get to go in
perhaps another time

but to have made the human connection
and to have conveyed something
by way of music

as i drove away i pondered
that
this little experience perhaps
seemed a bit strange to these two folks
a stranger shows up at the door
speaks of his beginnings
shares a bit of his life
makes an overt statement about
his convictions
by way of witnessing to the life he has chosen
plays some folk music
then bids adieu
i sensed more than a bit of skepticism
in the final moments

not an everyday occurrence to be sure

a circle (one of many) was completed
perhaps a new one begun