Hackleys

Dog days

Shot in Crete, August 8th 2011

Photos of our holiday to Crete over at Flickr.

Part 1

Sometimes we need to stop. And take a breath. And clear our heads. Completely. (Is that possible anymore?) This week has been one of those times.

Last week, I was on holiday in Crete. At the tail end of a holiday, when home and work start poking at me through the membrane of relaxation, I begin to plan for my trip back to earth. I feel fresh, rejuvenated. Opportunities for change offer themselves up, like a handful of tiny new years, waiting for my better self to grab hold and pull.

I came back to work Wednesday and immediately hit a wall. No new projects, no movement on current project. I’ve spent a good part of the past couple of days fiddling around with this site. I have other things to do, but they’re being put off and put off.

* * *

I haven’t made work for myself for about two years. I am sore about this, and scared too to try and make inroads. Scared I won’t feel anything for the arts that i used to love.

* * *

Having children is tiring. You give yourself, with pleasure, and you get back big time. But you lose too…that old, selfish self that could do anything, anytime, is now seriously impeded. That’s some reality, and a danger too. My daughter can’t have all of me, or there will be nothing left to surprise her with later on.

* * *

I read my first book for a long time while in Crete. It was Book of the Dead by Patricia Cornwell. I took proper books in my luggage – Steinbeck, Hemingway and Fitzgerald – but opted instead to choose from a stack of tat in our villa. It was great, I ploughed through it. I laughed at first – the writing’s ridiculous. Then I settled in, and enjoyed myself, not feeling guilty at all. I’m reading some Hemingway now, and writing this. Thanks Patricia.

Aurelie Eve

Our new baby girl is the beautiful Aurelie Eve Abbott ! I can’t put into words how special this feeling is, or how much love I have for this little parcel! We’re so glad to have you Aurelie!

RIP Bill Parrish

I have been meaning to write this since last Wednesday when we heard that our old-time family friend Bill Parrish passed away in Vienna, VA. Bill was an old-fashioned renaissance man, if that is not a contradiction in terms. Together with his wife Marianna they formed a large part of my early American experience. The name Hackleys was taken from a country store in Amissville, VA, that Bill and Marianna took us to as kids, every time we visited their farm in the Blue Ridge.

Men like Bill don’t come around too often, and I say that without a hint of hyperbole. I’m sure there are thousands of people that can attest. He was a big-hearted, intelligent, adventurous, eccentric and charismatic man with a mixture of values you may not expect to find in one person: a southern, Old-Fashioned-drinking man, fascinated by the British monarchy, with Clinton bumper stickers.

I had planned to write more about Bill than I will do here. His life and legacy is spellbinding, and should be talked about. But I’m just not sure I’m going to do it justice here. It is warm outside, I have just arrived at work and I’m hot and sticky and having trouble cooling down to proper concentration levels. Hot and sticky is how I remember 1988 when we first visited Locust Hill Farm.

We will miss you Bill, and I will think you every time I think of America and the best people that incredible country has given us. Your passing has left a massive hole, that our memories of happy and life-changing/affirming times will only partly fill. Our thoughts are with Marianna.

Love, David.

On the lake, Locust Hill Farm 1988

Peter, myself, Tom and Warfield, Locust Hill Farm 1988

Locust Hill Farm, 2008

Frea, back of the Parrish pickup truck, 2008

Hackleys Store, Amissville, VA, 2008

Bill and Midnight at Locust Hill Farm, 2008