This is number three hundred for Bend Light. I started this about a year and a half ago. I publish about every three to four days now. I made all the pictures except one. It feels like a lifeline to me. I say it feels like one because it isn’t one. I won’t die without it; but within me is a part that is more alive with it. Can I be more alive, less dead? I think I am either dead or not, but I can be more alive. Bend Light stokes the fire of alive.

Not an insignificant part of the juice I get is you. Would I still do this if you didn’t read it? I would like to think so, but I am familiar enough with my ego to know it would quickly bore from looking at itself and especially at looking at the part of itself that tries to be free of the ego. Writing that makes me think of “Leggo my ego”. Sorry. Anyway, I like that you and I look at one another in this cyber place. I hear less from you than you do from me and my ego seems to tolerate that ok–it is that enamored with itself I guess. I would like to hear from you more. To that end I am going to look for a way to make the comments follow directly under the post so that discussions might arise without leaving the page. This may require a new theme, etc, yawn. In other words, I want to hear from you and really some of you should meet each other. You are great people who read Bend Light, don’t you think? Thank you for reading and sharing Bend Light. For lots of reasons it means a lot to me.

As part of my celebrating three hundred, I would like to ask you to invite your friends to Bend Light. I want more readers. I like the connections. Send the link along if you fell inclined. I am shamelessly asking you to help me promote the site here.  Check out blogs I like on the blog roll to the right.  These are quality places to visit.  

You can subscribe to the blog in several ways so you don’t have to keep remembering to come back here. On the sidebar you will find an email subscription. You put your email in and you then receive an email that has a link you click to confirm it’s you. You can unsubscribe any time. You can also find Bend Light on twitter @bendlight. On Facebook, you can find a Bend Light page, although I think FB is kind of a drag, but it’s there if you want. My photos are on Flickr under sb archer. If you click on the photo you go to Flickr. If you click on the blog title you go to that post’s own page with comments. You can “like” posts, retweet posts, tweet thoughts about the post all from the side panel there. You can Stumble posts even. If you like a photo and want a print, contact me. I’ll make one for pretty close to cost plus shipping. I am not looking to make money on this site. If you have a blog reader add Bend Light with the RSS button. If you don’t have one, get one. If you have ideas for the blog, let me know. I would be honored to have the feedback.

For today’s photo, I would ask you to fill in the blanks. If the word Tonka evokes for you memories the way it does for me, you will have a great set of stories to revel in. You can write one down here if you like. Otherwise, and/or if the word Tonka means nothing to you, that’s ok. I think it’s still a cool moment as the dusk sweeps across the wheat fields, the smoke from a forest fire under Mt. Washington roils through the sunset.

This entry was posted in Bend Light and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Add a Facebook Comment

7 Responses to Tonka

  1. Bobbi says:

    Quiet. Morning. Vast.

  2. I share your feelings about being read…. I too publish a blog, but not with the same regularity as you. I love reading your blog and it does make me feel less alone. I love that you are vulnerable in your writing, and I especially love when you write about being a doctor from your heart. You humanize a profession that has been granted godlike status from some…. where doctors often stand at a great objective distance from the people they help cure/heal/usher to their death. I also know what you mean about wanting the comments and the forum. Sometimes when I am in the supermarket or the bookstore, someone will come up to me and tell me how much they love my blog, or start discussing my previous post. That feels great. Though I too would want them to share their comments with others.

    As for Tonka, what it evokes for me is going to the gas station and watching my brother get a Tonka truck… My sister and I couldn’t have one because we were girls. 🙁

  3. Yvonne says:

    Without even reading the post, the word Tonka opened the door to a flood of memories. With four brothers, eight nephews and now great nephews, I grew up with Tonka envy. Don’t misunderstand, I loved my dolls, tea sets and mini vacuum cleaners but trucks and steam shovels and earth movers were sturdy and bright and allowed in the dirt! No sweetly sung nursery rhymes but the imitated roar of engines and shouted directions on how to best build the newest bridge, road or buildings. This summer while workers were removing my old deck they dug up two old mini Tonkas a nephew buried there as a very young boy. (He is now 29.) I cleaned them up and they hold a place of honor on the rail of the new deck. I think it is the combination of Tonka envy and a love of ice skating that one of the items on my bucket list is to drive a Zamboni. Sweet dreams are made of this…

    I love your blog – both the photos and the writing. Two distinctly different art forms combined to create something beautiful. I have laughed and cried in response to them. At times, in the middle of the night when sleep eludes me I have gone to the computer and brought up BendLight and reread posts – feeling less alone. I remain in awe – not just of the artistry of the photos and words, but also of the size and texture of your heart. Thank you…

  4. CK says:

    Concentrating on the word Tonka, I go back to when I was pre-two-figures. I think of my brother playing with his friends, excluding me once again until I would put my dolls down and shovel dirt. I was distraught if I got dirty playing, for fear I would be in trouble for ruining my clothes. After playing Tonka, I would return to my room & strip myself out of my soiled clothes. I would open my closet as well as Barbie’s closet, and we would decide what to wear. Once dressed, we would put on various 45s on my record player and dance until happiness resumed. Notice I said “we?”

  5. P. Voyles says:

    I realize I do not comment as much as I should. Your photographs keep me coming back. I enjoy reading what you write, but for me it is the visual. You give my eyes something to feast on and I look forward to the little surprises. Today I was drawn in with the colors in the horizon. I find myself telling people about your photographs and the feelings they stir inside me. Keep posting and I will keep viewing. I might not always write, but I do enjoy you sharing a little bit of yourself with me.

  6. Kathleen says:

    Tonka: immediatly I actually think of “tatonka” an American Buffalo. I can imagine one standing in that field. I love, love the photo.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *