is for Muse?
to the radio late one night, he thought it was Mozart. Perhaps it was
that playfulness between the instruments, the exchange and reciprocity,
the kind of giving that does not always let on, yet does not let go. Then,
the announcer said it was Boccherini. Well, OK. But this dose was enough
to set him off to thinking about the mysterious M again. The memory had
returned to him completely fleshed out in what he figured might eventually
be remembered as a Summer of 99 return-of-the-Capri-pants fullness. The
thought resided there without subsiding, making July even hotter.
When he tried to explain this to a friend, the friend tried to guess everything
from mystical to mescal;
musical to Monterey;
motorcycle to Molly;
Madeira to Merlot;
and even stooping to moron and muckraker.
The persistence of memory can come from a disturbance or interruption
something incomplete. In fact, there had been a conversation at some oenophile
gathering or other: "You write The Wine Nose?"
"Somehow I had imagined a younger person behind your prose....Sometimes
your writing seems to be saying...."
And then someone intervened. Another dancer cut in. What was she trying
to express? The paradox of wine? Wine likes to age, yet with an ageworthy
wine there is a core of solid, ageless fruit that comes through after
opening up. It is only the peripheral aspects that change. Older wine
has its own wrinkles: it may "brown" a bit; some flavors may
mellow, while others emerge; but a good solid wine remains pretty darn
good. Ageworthy wine does not forego its youth.
There are memories of chances not taken, and then there are memories of
a momentum broken off. Eyes, thank you, for still allowing us to behold
so much mystery. Perhaps someday we can continue sipping from where we
left off. M, you have a standing invitation to stop by The Bottle Store
any Friday from 5 to 7 pm where a bottle will be open with your name on
it. I remain, persistently yours...