Morgan Freeman once said, you work to keep your passion alive and it arrives post haste, culminating heritage with the genetics of thought. It is, as he said, and I have so often related, unfolding just the way it should.
Now, I have hopefully conjugated our experiences yesterday with the collaging of events that externalized and incapsulated the wormhole phenomenon. Though it is through separate moments that there are eons 
exploding right before your very eyes, with nothing up our sleeves, existence without the illusion of time or variable spaces. Road trips are often filled with signposts, and our first, of course, came in a dual roosting of hawks on a wire, and then we spotted directly
in front of us, dancing to the time warp again, a Woody, evocative of a time, place and an event of your choice.During those first moments of cloud speak around us as the day progressed were illuminating topographies of the evolutions in geography, stratifying colors in the landscapes that surrounded us.
Along the way, in the images that these spiderweb bridges, water tower and guard towers ushered in, were the nuances of string theories, tying one alternate reality to the next. Such are the concepts of generations as we joined the four of them at the Cook's.
As Adele and Joyce, Lisa and her and Joey's kids, Madison and Jackson represented the ideals and impressions of bridging history thru rebirth. To watch as Madison, now as we view time, being two and a half years old, and proud of her accomplishments on the basketball court, and for me, as each of these newborns seemed to be evolving at a faster pace, I wonder whether my recollections will catch up to the futures that circulate around me on a day to day basis. Joey commented that if Jackson, being all of one week old, was cold, he would curl up in a ball, and if he was being satiated by the heat around him, he would naturallly extend his body parts outward.
As we left those bountiful allures behind us, we cruised thru Lodi, to pick up some raviolis and sauce, and went to visit with Aunt Virginia. Here lies another of our exquisite thoughts as she dance around us verbally with her special moments in the recent months, concluding with the concept that she was lucky that anyone had taken her in. That my dear friends, brings me the humility to write about such excursions into the mystical places I am so lucky to perceive of around me.
Traveling on to Rio Vista Cemetary to visit some of the generations that have passed, and with the juxtaposition in the distance with those wind turbines, our own wormholes from the past, in the present, and to the future, I wiled away precious moments, engulfing myself in memories of my life, as Joyce and Adele did the promotional spiritual and joyful maintenance of long missed friends and relatives.
For the present moments and the joys of teasing Adele of where our last destination was to be, we wallowed into the parking spaces of the new off ramp on Highway 80 west, just before getting back onto Highway 37. Not only is this a place to bring the generations of living Mortensens together for a picnic gathering, but it bespeaks the history of the area we preside in, with the view of San Pablo Bay, and on a clear day, you can see Forever, oh, I mean the Golden Gate Bridge, bringing our trip full circle. It too, is a place where fantasy and reality meet, as it holds two ice cream vending machines, which as you pick and watch the variety of joy you will soon consume, it glides over and latches onto or grabs your selection and drops it into a reachable space in time. It was so much older then, it is so much younger than that now....
This is Steven, a chance encounter with Margie Cook thru Lisa Cook at bookforum.com that made me relate these concepts of Wormholes, Hasidic Judaism, which promotes spirituality and joy through the popularisation and internalisation of Jewish Mysticism, displaying my passion for writing these Days, Child.....bidding all of you a glorious and whether or not filled Sunday Morning????!!!!
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