can I bring my father's place

He of course would of course correct me.
May I take my fathers place.
The pool came from the store today. A way to prod along the stalled purpose. Stir up some action where there is none.
Kmart. The one in the middle of Nicollete Ave. On Lake. a Way in the back garden center little room where they have larger items.
In the back yard the roof is still intact. I have even put more things into it. Instead of the other way around.
But so much is going on. Can I bring my father's place. Could be not corrected and still be right if it could be a sentence. Am I able to physically carry my fathers place over here. He has passed part of his place here. I and I have carried all of it down here.
I was him today. In the basement, sorting through things. I have advantage over him as he has passed on the 10 % that is valuable.
It has been mixed with other people passing me things they have decided were valuable. I of course have collected things that I hae deemed valuable. They are now mixed up in the basement where I become Dad.
I move around pushing things from one place to another. I ready, stage, sort and unpack. Un cover and discover.
today I have come across some gems. From grades from grade school and high school to my mothers notebooks from her grade school. They have all been packed away protected in cardboard and plastic. Moved from then to now. Some boxes span decades of my own life and others pick instances from other peoples lives and my own. A group of soccer shirts, each representing one year or one season. The numbered HGRA the unnumbered Groveland. Little bigger each year. The me now could not even get many of the shirts over my head.
There is something amazing about going through and setting order to the things inside. In some ways the whole story. It is fun finding facts. Fact that memory can not effect. No matter how I might distort my memory of playing soccer I can not distort the physical shirt. It is grounding. It is like a foundation. A point in a memory that will remain the same no matter what. How it fits into my life can not be affected. I rely on these parkers and points to recall and understand what has happened. So much of the present is understood when one knows these things. Or so I think.
I know I share this experience with him. In the corner of my eye I have seen him attach value to this process of sorting.
In one of the artifacts he had in a sorting module was a note to someone by him. It was carbon paper copied. But included was this notation that had outside information. Much like the way I mark things. But as I noted it was int he corner of my eye.

Ea

Ea built a pool. It is my memory that Ea my grandfather designed or
built the pool we used to all swim in.
I want to remember this. It is like the time when I climbed the rope
in the washington primary gym. After I had gone up the last time I
told myself that I would remember it for ever. It was 11 times. Which
makes it so.
Ea built the pool. I heard this and may have extrapolated. Did I? I
am not proud I would want to know the truth, the truth about
something that believe. There are so many things said and heard, that
are never talked about.
There used to be a fenced off area just to the south west corner of
the pool. You would pass it when you walked up the driveway to the
pool. It was on the right side with in the trees that they brought
back from Europe. It was surrounded by a picket fence. Like the
pickets that lined the high fence and the bath houses. Shorter ones
were spaced to make the low fence one either end. The remaining side
was wire fence with posts on which fake owls perched, covered in bird
shit.
The small fenced in area was a over grown place. Through the thickets
that became pricklies. Maybe with those poisonous red berries that
were good for only making blood on Gi-Joe. The sides leaned unkept as
the years past. Inside was a hole. It had sides of concrete dropping
a couple of feet down into the ground. When it was put in I am sure
those tall trees were not as they were/are. This might have been on
the other side of the line of trees. But now it was in a bramble of
pricklies. There was a tangle of pipes. Non so much the same as all
seeming to do something else. I always understood what each pipe did.
I stood there enough times when he used to do something to it. I
understand it now. Each pipe was part and parcel with the pump and
filtering system for the pool. The water came down through the pipes
moving in this direction and then filtering it and then sending it
back to the pool. It was where you added the chemicals. Those three
small tubes in the plastic holder with the different colours in them.
This might have been the first place I knew I was colour blind. I
could not tell the colour change in those tubes.
I have always wanted to build a pool. Not unlike the one that was
there or the one before that that was there.
I have always said I was going to build one. An in-ground one. I
suppose I could put this one in the ground.

Slide Show

Flash Slideshow

I should be tearing the roof off.

Instead I am doing this and that.

I stuck my head while on a ladder, through the pulled down roof boards. I should use the ceiling boards for some kind of accent in the poolhouse.
I wonder how large the existing building is?
What is all the stuff up there. Looks like more of the fated oil in a bottle. Some more bed frames. Maybe I can use one of them for the bike rack. Some plywood that was recently put up there. Some tar paper, and chicken wire that look to be from our own. But in the back there on the left there looks like some old school CW. In front of that there is a trash can possibly.
The things at the bottom of the bed frames looks like something a touch different. I will have to investigate.
Literal, in my childhood I always found places like this and imagined the things I would want to do with them. Here I have a garage. Maybe the last part of the duplex that makes sense to do anything to. Plus I need a place to stay. I have been working over so many other places that I have over looked this. The idea of the poolhouse comes to me in an interesting way. I am sort of looking at it in a way that is a little out of the corner of my eye. It is resonating.* I am this place in my life where I have come to change. I described the two rivers side by side and flowing at the same time. Congruently. In tandem. I sat across a cement picnic table which was so appro. The solid manifestation of an image from an email conveying clarity. (the cement picnic table. blogspot.com)
Change, internal foundational, structural.

state 1