Persephone Abbott

Posts from the “Memory” Category

Paradise

Posted on March 31, 2025

I had thought about it. The American Photography exhibition at the Rijksmuseum. Then my phone via Facebook or Instagram or Osmosis-Goo suggested that I seriously consider buying a ticket, like right now, click the link and chakka-gotcha! The Rijksmuseum sits just around the corner from my apartment, a five minute walk. Motivated, I took the bait. Walking through the exhibit at 9 a.m. on a Monday morning, I thought about my age. From my memory bank I can understand the subject matter in the photographs, either because I was already born or my grandparents were alive during the early to mid 20th century era or because the historical photographs of locations were still somewhat recognizable to what I recall seeing when I lived in…

Pilgrimage

Posted on March 16, 2025

Reading Shakespeare and drinking tea are pleasant occupations. And drinking whiskey and reading Shakespeare are also pleasant occupations. A friend of mine and I meet up every so often and read a play together. We switch the parts freely. She’s a health care professional and during the break between transitioning from the tea to the whiskey part of the evening she said to me, “You know, living with a narcissist ages a person.” She meant literally ages a person physically, mentally and spiritually. I remembered  myself at the age of seventeen when I couldn’t recall what I had done an hour previously. I wasn’t taking medication, I wasn’t under the influence of any substances. In despair I dyed my hair grey for a period…

At the Circus

Posted on March 4, 2025

“Ah,” I thought to myself, sitting comfortably in my assigned seat at Le Carré in Amsterdam.  It was a very nice seat at the back of the royal “loge” section in what used to be the circus theatre. The theater is no longer the home of the circus.  * A few years ago I heard Mavis Staples at Le Carré and that was an exceptional experience. I signed up for a “We Are Public” seat (a subscription service to supplement an audience when sales are poor or the venue too big and Le Carré is huge) only to be told when I showed up to collect the ticket, that all the “plonk butts in seats”  tickets were taken. Quite a few disappointed and audibly…

Thoughts on Richard Brautigan’s A Confederate General in Big Sur

Posted on October 20, 2024

“There was a ship going someplace. It was a Norwegian ship. Perhaps it was going back to Norway, carrying the hides of 163 cable cars, as part of the world commerce deal. Ah, trade: one country exchanging goods with another country, just like in grade school. They traded a rainy spring day in Oslo for 163 cable car hides from San Francisco.” (Excerpt from A Confederate General in Big Sur by Richard Brautigan, 1965.) I first read A Confederate General in Big Sur when I was a teenager and I just finished reading it for the second time. I would like to think that this novel has made the same impression upon me as forty something odd years ago, however I must say that…

How do Eldon and Terry Stutzman Mast Celebrate Keith Kumasen Abbott?

Posted on September 18, 2024

What happened to the literary legacy of my father, Keith Kumasen Abbott?

Persephone August 16 – 27

Posted on August 25, 2024

Travel Blog USA 2024. I am traveling to visit friends and family and to visit Keith Kumasen Abbott’s partial archives at the University of Western Washington in Bellingham where I will discuss my father’s missing materials. Where are they? What could Eldon and Terry Mast have done with them? August 16 – 27 Topics Include: A Discussion about Responsibility and Fraudulent Identity The Boarding House on Marion/Aryan Kelton Tim Hildebrand/Keith Kumasen Abbott’s materials Keith’s High School Friends and his Mother’s Oil Paintings The Cutting of Contact/My Mother’s Mental Illness A Visit to Tacoma’s Mountain View Cemetery X-Cel Feedmill/Keith’s poem Leonard Elwood Abbott Jr. Bethlehem Lutheran Church/My Norwegian Grandparents Visiting my Grandmother’s House in Tacoma after 44 Years Looking for Cheap Groceries at Dollar Store…

Bucket List?

Posted on February 6, 2024

Visiting all 50 states is not really on my bucket list, but studies show that out of 50 states, 8 is the average number most Americans have visited. The average is 8 for Americans and for Europeans the average is 10 (this last statement is heresay and constitutes wild boasting). 1 Alabama X – Ah, in our early thirties we were coasting through the Redneck Riviera coincidentally around spring break time and my ex cohabitant with his age defying hyperdermis was carded. I wasn’t. 2 Alaska – No, but about a hundred years ago, one of my relatives got mauled by a bear up there. Might have even been one relative on each side. People still talk about these bears + their mauling. 3…

In Memoriam P. B. 1939 – 2023

Posted on December 25, 2023

The Best Cup of Coffee in the WorldIt was most delicious – especiallyprepared for me by a dying manbone china he said tapping the saucerbought two cups in Francesouvenirs sourced at a thrift shopyou can’t find such nice ones here in the Netherlands He was standing in his kitchenmanaging the coffee machinea one cup of coffee at a time type he’d been on his own quite some yearsBy all accounts my exfatherinlawshould not have been standing in front of his coffee machine on his own two feetbut he even had a little bit of oat milk leftI noticed the fridge needed cleaninga smattering of fuzzies caught my eye as I closed the door He frothed the milk up and poured it outI set the…

Summer Poems

Posted on August 8, 2022

Wee a.m. the cat sitting on my right hip bone kneading my side heavy voice outside drunk, in a language I can’t make out woman-shriek pierces the night dull thumping shirt on shirt half asleep I egg on the fight atta, go at ‘em go my organs under the cat’s administration I hear scuffling Jog my memories: Eight Stops on the Train from Amsterdam Amstel to Gouda = My first year in Holland: I was told that I’d save money if I got off at Amstel and took the metro to the opera house and I can still remember the round face and blues eyes of the person giving me that advice in the Utrecht Conservatory canteen in between sips of bad coffee. —-…