johnwoburn.blogspot.com
John Woburn's shoes: juxtaposition
http://johnwoburn.blogspot.com/2008/01/solace.html
Wednesday, January 30, 2008. The tram. That’s something that wasn’t always there. The wet leaves squish underfoot as I gingerly step down the sidewalk, the sharp stones from the cracked and pitted surface digging into my feet. The sky is neatly cut in two, the swaying cables a hundred feet. As if through their own conceit they must mask the forest, river and hills beyond. Looking down at the crumbling cement, I laugh. London Centre for Int'l Storytelling. Brown and White Ones. Morning walk with Tea.
johnwoburn.blogspot.com
John Woburn's shoes: 17 years. It’s been awhile.
http://johnwoburn.blogspot.com/2008/01/17-years-its-been-awhile.html
Wednesday, January 30, 2008. 17 years. It’s been awhile. I follow the power lines - Right. Left. Through the underpass, then by the old Cedarwood school. Children are playing in the school yard, their parents will soon be by to pick them up. I ease the car a few houses down and park. There it is. An old 1908 Foursquare, just as I had remembered it. London Centre for Int'l Storytelling. Brown and White Ones. Morning walk with Tea. 17 years. It’s been awhile.
johnwoburn.blogspot.com
John Woburn's shoes: solace
http://johnwoburn.blogspot.com/2008/01/juxtaposition.html
Wednesday, January 30, 2008. The door banged shut behind me, but did nothing to muffle the acrid words my mother directed my way. Things had only been getting worse lately, ever since Dad was called up on active duty. She said she had stopped, that she could control it, but then she started drinking. It was ‘just one glass’ of wine, then two and three… I lost count. She lost count. London Centre for Int'l Storytelling. Brown and White Ones. Morning walk with Tea. 17 years. It’s been awhile.
johnwoburn.blogspot.com
John Woburn's shoes: google maps
http://johnwoburn.blogspot.com/2008/01/google-maps.html
Monday, January 14, 2008. Here's a google map. London Centre for Int'l Storytelling. Brown and White Ones. Morning walk with Tea. 17 years. It’s been awhile.
johnwoburn.blogspot.com
John Woburn's shoes: Paths
http://johnwoburn.blogspot.com/2008/01/paths.html
Wednesday, January 30, 2008. I was late. I was always late. Saturday, the day of freedom – and I am determined to make the most of it. My friend Eric lived just a few blocks away, on the other side of the highway. Front Avenue, that barren no man’s land of windy concrete ribbon. Menacing me with its surge of traffic disappearing into the blackness of the tunnel. London Centre for Int'l Storytelling. Brown and White Ones. Morning walk with Tea. 17 years. It’s been awhile.
johnwoburn.blogspot.com
John Woburn's shoes: neighborhood panoramic
http://johnwoburn.blogspot.com/2008/01/panoramic-photograph.html
Thursday, January 31, 2008. Panoramic view of the neighborhood and east side of the river from the new aerial tram. London Centre for Int'l Storytelling. Brown and White Ones. Morning walk with Tea. 17 years. It’s been awhile.
johnwoburn.blogspot.com
John Woburn's shoes: Biography
http://johnwoburn.blogspot.com/2008/01/biography.html
Tuesday, January 22, 2008. My name is John. I guess you’d say that I live a transient style of existence – always moving, from one place to another. My dad was in the Army, and I spent most of my childhood growing up in places like. 8230; until I was 15. That was when he was sent to. During the war, and I came to live in. With my mother, to be closer to her relatives. Not that I really cared – I had only briefly met them once or twice for some holiday or other. So I just stayed away… the streets of.
johnwoburn.blogspot.com
John Woburn's shoes: the Mountain
http://johnwoburn.blogspot.com/2008/01/mountain.html
Wednesday, January 30, 2008. I remember those last few years in Portland, waking up to the grey morning light filtering through the east-facing windows. Watching as the sun slowly burned away the bitter heaviness of the clouds to reveal the glistening whiteness of The Mountain. London Centre for Int'l Storytelling. Brown and White Ones. Morning walk with Tea. 17 years. It’s been awhile.
