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My dear friend, Dorothy, old homesteading neighbor in Alaska, is printing herself off my mother’s writings from the blog.  Her printer is now complaining, no idea what pages it hasn’t printed, no page numbers when it is printed that way.  Her computer says it has printed 566 pages – so far.   I would have just sent her the files from my computer, at least they have page numbers!

We are grateful for any financial savings on our end, and JV who granted us an interview (another old time Alaskan who knew my mother well) – wants to read M’s writings – so Dorothy is willing to send her printed copy over to JV — but

MY WORRY!

What if one of those big winds blows through like my mother described in her Dark Rainbow Dream (I see in my letters, btw, it was probably partly based on the big February 1959 blow in Anchorage) — and all the pages Dorothy has printed simply return themselves back to the state (just about exactly!) where they all were six years ago when my mother’s papers ended up on my doorstep!

Hard not to smile.  What an image.  What an irony.  And, well. . . . .

What’s that they say about the hallmark of insecure attachment disorders?  Oh, yes, “The inability to tell a coherent narrative of one’s life story.”  In my book, that’s what page numbers are for!  (We hope.)  My mother had a life without dates and page numbers.

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