Wednesday, October 31, 2012

OctPoWriMo--Day 31 Day of the Dead

Here we are day 31...and its one of my favorite days of the year. Call it Halloween, Call it Samhain, Call it Eve of All Saints, Call it Day of the Dead, this marking of the end of harvests, the commeration of the dead and the looking towards winter has always been a favorite time

Day of the Dead

We shall work all day
Preparing the feast
Making sure their are enough chairs,
Enough to eat.

We shall bake the turkey and dressing
For it is harvest's end and we are most thankful.
And we shall mull the cider
Cook the beans and potatoes.
Crank the ice cream.
And our friend the baker shall bring the bread.

We shall set the extra place
And fill it first from all the foods.
And light the candles
To welcome all the loved ones
Who might wish to joing us.

Though sometimes we forget
They really never are that far away.

And so tonight we honor them.

Monday, October 29, 2012

OctPoWriMo day 29 Trick or Treat




The trick part is pretty well gone now....
Authorities take a dimmer view
of criminal mischief these days.

There are the rituals and rules still though.
If you are too old to get dressed up you are too old for the candy.
You must say "trick or treat" before and "thank you" after the candy hits your bag.
Let the little kids come back down before you go pushing up the steps."
Don't get into the candy before your mom checks it (there's nothing wrong with it, but it keeps you from eating it all till you get home.)
And then you all spread the loot out on the floor and trade,
Arguing the relative merits of Tootsie Rolls and Reese's Cups

Much has changed, still something essential remains...
There are so few traditions left from generation to generation,
Its good to have a night of make-believe and chocolate.




Sunday, October 28, 2012

OctPoWriMo day 28 From Memory

Today's challenge involved writing on one of a series of quotes on writing. As soon as I saw this quote I knew where I was going.

"You remember too much, my mother said to me recently. Why hold onto all that?
And I said, where can I put it down?"
Anne Carson

Its not always easy, you know
Being the one who remembers the dates and names.
The one who looks at faded photos
And knows right away
Who and where and when.
Because it isn't just the recalling of facts
But a momentary jump backward in time.
Feeling again all I felt then.
And like any other person
There are times I'd rather not revisit
Places I would prefer not to go.

I love to recall the good times.
I am ok with the hard and sad times.
But I would love to eliminate
All the stupid, insensitive and wrong
Things I have done
Or had done to me.

But I am not gifted with selective memory
But burdened instead with mostly total recall.
But
If all the bad memories are the price
For remembering the lovely timees
I will pay the fare.

Thursday, October 25, 2012

OctPoWriMo Day 25---Love Is

Love is taking turns all night with the sick child.

Love is knowing when not to say a word, especially "I told you so."

Love is cooking the calimari you can't stand because the other person loves it.

Love is checking the front door again even though its the fourth time you asked.

Love is Thanksgiving with your family and Christmas with mine.

Love is two sets of towels/book shelves/kitchen tools because you each like things a certain way.

Love is every compromise, every gift, every thoughtful thing.

Love is preferring to be together in bad times to being apart in good times.

Wednesday, October 24, 2012

OctPoWriMo day 24 2 seasonal views

Todays challenge involved picking words at random amd also wriiting as minimally as possible...something I'm not good at. The words I picked were spring vows and fixed and I pared it down the best I could.

Spring
A time to sprout
A time to seek

Summer
A time to find
A time for vows

Fall
A time to harvest
A time to shelter

Winter
A time to lie fallow
A time to endure

And even as I was typing I saw another way.

Version 2
Spring sprouting seeking finding
Summer growth vows relaxation
Fall harvest shelter stewards
Winter Fallow endurance serenity

Tuesday, October 23, 2012

OctPoWriMo day 22 Random Acts of Trivia

John Wilkes Booth killed Lincoln.
His brother saved the life of Lincoln's son.

Shakespeare gave us the modern play.
Cervantes the modern novel.
They both died the same day.

My brain is filled with this sort of thing.

The lineage of the kings amd queens of England
(All the way back to William the Conqueror)
Oscar winners and whom they beat,
Baseball players' special feats,
Signers of the Declaration
Batlles of the Civil War

No one wants to play Trivial Pursuit with me.

At home I am the one who knows
Who bought which tree ornament
Which dishes were wedding presents,
The name of the first grade teachers,
And the dates of photos by the furniture in the room.

Some people see trivia as silly,
A distraction from things that really matter.
I see it rather as tiny pieces
Of the mosaic of our lives.
And funny how the ones who think
Trivial knowledge is silly
Come looking for me when they need
To finish their crossword puzzle.

Sunday, October 21, 2012

OctPoWriMo day 21 What Our Hands Can Hold

Going with the flow...with a nudge from my daughter.

I say to my daughter
There's so much we can control in life
So much is out of our hands."
"Well your hands are pretty small Mom" she replies.

But whose hands are big enough to manage it all?

I think we would do better if
We let go of anything
That won't fit our hands any way.

Saturday, October 20, 2012

OctPoWriMo day 19 Carping at Carpe Diem

The writing prompt for yesterday wss "seize the day" but I got a little sidetracked:

I treid to find a way too say
"Carpe diem" Seize the Day.
But my brave thoughts deserted me
As my mind focused endlessly
On all the times I settled for
The safe, the sure, the closest shore.

Thursday, October 18, 2012

OctPoWriMo day 18 TimeKeeping

Time Flies.
Time stands still.
Time starts and stops.
We have time to kill.

Time is friend.
Time is foe.
Time can crawl.
Time can flow.

Seasons mark it
Come and go
From Daffodils
To falling snow.

Time can hobble.
Time can heal.
Depending on
The way you feel.

Time is on our side.
Time for no man waits.
"A time to live, a time to die
A time for love and hate."

Its all an illusion
Yet it rules our days.
At peril ignore it
In the end you'll pay.

Time goes fast on vacation
But at work oh so slow.
Plodding to the growing child
Swift when watching children grow.

Time breathes.
Time lives.
In the end
Time just is.



Wednesday, October 17, 2012

OctPoWriMo day 17 Notes from Strawberry Fields

Today's prompt was to write about a place we had been and take others there. Having just recently finished a poem of that sort about Gettysburg I was at a loss for anything to say about other places I had been, so I wrote instead about some places I dreamed of going to. As I was writing, though I thought of a place I had wanted for a long time to see, and finally got to in 2011, thanks to a dear friend.

NOTES FROM STRAWBERRY FIELDS

On the worst night
(At least till then)
Of my young life
The world intruded on my football game
With a tale of death in New York City.

On the tv I watched it all
Mourners the world over
Wished I could be there
With others who felt as I did.
In times to come I
Wrote and dreamed of those days
And that place
And knew I'd make the trip
And find Strawberry Fields.

It was 30 years before it happened.
Before a dear friend and I
Stood in front of the Dakota
And at the mosaic across the street,
Memorial to a dream.

I who had been the girl of 20
Wondering what sort of world
I was coming of age in,
Now a woman of 50
Wondering what sort of world
My children are coming of age in.
Stood with the dear friend
Sharer of the dream,

It was a frosty February day,
But we were not alone.
And we helped a group of young women
Trying crowd into a picture together.
And I thought:
Here are these girls who weren't even born
That dreadful december night...
And they are drawn to this place
To stand together.

I was so glad to stand there
With the dear friend
Hoping she knew how much it meant to me
Not to come here alone
At least the first time.
(After all "Dreams you dream together are reality")

And I still believe in magic
And dreaming impossible dreams.
And all you need is Love

Just Imagine.

OctPoWriMo day 17--the places I'd go...

I have travelled some...
Seen fine buildings
Great battlefields
Stood at the graves of
Famous men and women.

But there are places I have never been
That call to my heart.

I would stand on the Acropolis,
And think on the great continuum
Three thousand years of history
Bearing the name of the goddess of wisdom.

I would go to London
And muse on on the great people of history
Who walked these streets
Kings and queens
Artists,actors and writers.

I would go to Hungary
And find some of the family
My grandfather left behind
When he boarded the boat for America.

And I would go to Ireland
From whence my mothers people came.
No place calls to my soul more...
In their honor I would touch the sod.

Tuesday, October 16, 2012

OctPoWriMo Day 16 Venting...

Today was tiresome and long
Work, busses, all went wrong,
Stress, mess, bills to pay.
Not a thing went right today.

Till I got home and found my chair
Dinner waiting for me there
Nothing else to do you know
Than give tomorrow another go.

Tomorrow I shall try again
To do better by my pen
Find some better words to say
Than I managed for today.

OctPoWriMo day 15 Souvenirs

Running a bit behind, here is my day 15 poem on the 16th.

SOUVENIRS

Baseballs and ballet slippers.
Medals, trophies, and team photos.
Coffee mugs from many places
A little pewter gargoyle inkwell.
Figurines and trinkets.

A piece of depression glass my dad paid a carry on charge for because he wss afraid to ship it.

A christening cup from the parents of the friend we named our son after;
And the Chinese dragon bowl that friend gave us when we married.

2 serving spoons the kids' greatgrandma used to measure ingredients (the recipes wont come out right withoit them!)

All the Barbie dolls my son got me for Christmases when he was small, still in the boxes like the prized collectables they are.

Scrapbooks full of pictures and cards, ribbons and pressed flowers.

Souvenirs, all of them, of people and places we have loved.

Monday, October 15, 2012

OctPoWriMo day 14--Reflections

Two children sit across the room from me.
The boy looks like me, the girl like him.
I look at him and I see my whole family there:
Father, brother, sister....
I look at the girl and there is nothing of my family there
But my husbands family tree is well represented.

And yet,
The boy talks and acts like dad,
The girl is more like me.

Reflections can be deceptive.
You have to dig deeper.

Saturday, October 13, 2012

OctPoWriMo day 13 A Memory of Laughter

I remember a day
You were about ten
When you came home from school with a script
Your teacher said to read aloud
"Something about baseball" you said.
I was delighted to see it was "Who's on First"

We read it out loud together.
And about halfway through
A light began to shine in your eyes
As you realized this was funny
Before we were done
You were laughing so hard
You could barely get the words out.

And I will never forget how much fun it was.
Watching my little boy
Get a seventy year old joke
Like it was being told
For the first time.

t

Friday, October 12, 2012

OctPoWriMo day 12 Message from the Lighthouse Keepers

Todays theme was passion and the writing prompt that got me started was "Hearts and Hands open..." I had trouble getting started because most of the things I am passionate about dont lend themselves to poetry immediately. Finally I found the images to write about some events of the past year I felt very deeply about indeed.

Lifeline from a Lighthouse

You washed up on the shore
        Of our hearth and hearts.
        We threw you a lifeline and took you in.

It was neither your fault nor ours
           That the tsunami engulfed you again
            And at least for now
            Pulled you beyond our reach.

But should the tide reverse for you
             We are still here, the safe port. 
             We keep the signal light burning in the lighthouse
              Never knowing when you might struggle to our shore again.
             


Thursday, October 11, 2012

OctPoWriMo day 11 What is Fair?


Some days I want to cry
And say life's just not fair.
Look here, I work hard
I take care of people,
I harm no one with intent.
So where is my Attagirl.
Where is my piece of the pie?
Where is my pot of gold?

And then of course I stop to think
of the loads carried by those I know
And I am reminded once again
The blessings are in the things we have...
Not the things we yearn for.

A wise man once said:
"We're still alive, we're still all here,
And while there still is life there's hope."
He's gone now, but we're still here..
I must believe we're doing something right.
And maybe that's as fair as it gets.

Wednesday, October 10, 2012

OctPoWriMo day 10 My day Begins

My day begins
With the sound of the coffeepot
Beeping done...
And the alarm clock shreiking WAKE UP!!!
I set them to go off at the same time.

(Its a good thing the pot has a timer
I need the encouragement most days)

I stumble into the living room
With the first cup of coffee.
I look through the DVR
Hoping for a new Daily Show
Cause I can use a laugh at 4am.

I sit there for awhile comtemplating the universe
Or failing that, reruns of MASH or The Twilight Zone.

One hour and several cups of coffee later
Its time to brave the shower.
Pack a lunch,
Count the bus fare,
And then go out and face the world.

Tuesday, October 9, 2012

OctPoWriMo day 9 Call Center Cacaphony

The first thing you notice are the ringing phones...
Loud piercing and endless, I hear them in my sleep.
Then there is the alarm that sounds when phones aren't answered fast enough,
The air raid siren I call it.
More sounds enter the mix:
Co workers on the phones
TDD's and answering machines
Officers over the radios...
It all blends together into a single roaring noise.
Only occasionally does one pick out
Someone else's call.

(This is how one can be alone in a room of a dozen people)

Occasionally there is a lull.
The quiet cue that not much is going on.
We look up at each other like storm survivors
Conversing for a moment or two.
Then erupts the sound again..

"This is 911 what is your emergency?"

The sounds begins again.

Monday, October 8, 2012

OctPoWriMo day 8 Coffee and Me

When I was just a little girl
I "made" coffee for my grandma.
Ran the water as hot as I could
Then added the spoonfuls of instant Sanka
And the little Saccarine pills that fizzed in the coffee.
The I would make a cup for myself as well
It was decaf after all, so no harm done.
It was then I learned what simple joy there was
In presenting to someone a simple cup of coffee.

By the time I was 13
My grandmother was gone
And I was drinking the real thing with my parents,
They had a coffee grinder that held a pound
Of Eight O'Clock coffee beans
That we ground directly into the coffee pot.

For the rest of my life
I have worshipped at the altar
Of the Goddess Caffeina.
No matter how broke I was
I made sure there was coffee.
No just enough for my household
But enough for anyone that might drop in.
Coffee is hospitality.
Coffee is me now, and the younger me
That stirred the Sanka for her grandma.

And if I wish to gauge the depth of my affection
I ask myself this:
Truly you may have the shirt off my back,
But would I let you have the last scoop of coffee?

Dog Gone

Our family's dog died Saturday. It was not a totally unexpected event. Some 2 years ago the vet told us the slow growing tumor would eventually kill her, but as long as her quality of life was good there was no reason to euthanize her. To the end she was a happy dog. Happy to have attention from anyone, giving pitiful looks at our dinner plates, trying to convince newcomers that she hadn't been fed in weeks. Always she was happiest though when one of her children were in the room. When they were younger she was their protector and guardian, and always their friend, especially the Boy.

When he was little he was afraid of dogs, any dog, so when a police officer found several lab mix puppies running loose in the street and brought them down to the station rather than call the warden; his dad,who was working at the time, decided to bring one of the puppies home, think that taking care of a dog would reduce the fear factor. It worked.

We named her Diana Nightshade, but called her Shade. She was a good wattchdog and fiercely devoted to her children, especially when they were out in "her" yard playing. No one dared venture near the outside of the fence even when the kids were outside. Once she even refused to let my father in law in the back yard when the kids were playing.

 When the kids weren't outside she occupied herself with chasing cats, squirrels and birds that were dumb enough to come in the yard and with digging holes. Most Labs love to dig and Shade could have gotten government highway funding for some of hers. One time she dug so much under the doghouse that it fell into the hole. A friend of ours drew the kids a cartoon that showed the dog house going down like the titanic while those dratted squirrels stood about with violins playing "Nearer My God to Thee."

Every day she lived for the moment when the car would pull in the driveway and the kids would get out of the cars. If we would come earlier without kids, or if one of the kids would stay late for something and not arrive at the proper time, she would be visibly disappointed.

Other pets came and went from our lives, a succession of cats, fish, lizards, snakes, tarantulas, and even another dog, but we had Shade for over 12 years. After her tumor began showing visibly we started keeping her in the house all the time because kids would go up to the fence and make fun of her. For a dog who had always had the run of the yard (at least to the end of her leash, she was a master escape artist), she adapted to confinement remarkably well,other than the obsessive attention paid our meals. She remained a happy dog though with a good appetite though she had gone very grey and sometimes needed help up the steps into the house.

The Boy had, in his pragmatic way, come to terms with what was happening. I was relieved she didn't die when we were away in Gettysburg. The symbolism of leaving his boyhood behind would have been too much for me, if not him. His sister, younger and more visibly sensitive, who had never known a house that Shade was not in, was having a harder time. For months we had made a point of saying goodbye to the dog whenever we would be gone for any length of time. (I always used to tell her she was in charge until I got back).

Saturday I was up long before the rest, as usual, and she was up with me looking for a trip outside and some food. There seemed to be nothing wrong with her appetite. (The other dog we once had stopped eating several days before the end). The Girl and I went out to spend the day at Grandma's, the Boy and his dad to visit friends. When they came back in the afternoon she was gone.

The boy took care of his friend as she deserved, burying her in the yard she so loved to excavate, in a spot he had chosen some time before. I was still out with his sister when he called wanting to know when we'd be home. On being told I wasn't sure he said call me before you come home, a bit unusual for him, but I didn't think much about it. When we got home he and his dad were waiting in the kitchen for us, they of course wanted to tell the Girl before she went in the living room and found Shade was gone.

So I have drunk my coffee and eaten my breakfast alone the last 2 days, and there's an empty spot I trip over when I go to the front door. Most families have more than one of the animals they like, but one or two usually stand out. I think she will always be The Dog.






Sunday, October 7, 2012

OctPoWriMo day 7--At a Loss For Words

Some days the words don't come
They rattle about in your brain
Like tiny little Who's
Shouting "We are here, we are here, we are here!"
But refuse to make the journey
From brain to paper.

And that's ok.

They will issue forth when they are ready.
And I shall be patient
And wait till they are their time is come.


Saturday, October 6, 2012

OctPoWriMo day 6--That Friend

Everybody needs to have "That Friend"

That friend you can text in the middle of the night.
That friend you can tell everything to, and know it will go nowhere else.
That friend who loves your kids even if they hate kids.
That friend who remembers the name of your class homecoming Queen when you can't.
That friend who nudges you and says "move on, you deserve better than this".
That friend who never says "I told you so" (but you wouldn't mind it if  they did).


But even more...

Everyone needs the chance
To be that friend
For someone else.


Friday, October 5, 2012

OctPoWriMo Day 5---Haunted Gettysburg

Haunted Gettysburg

People joke about the ghosts...
They smile when they ask if you took the tours or saw anything.
But they haven't come here.
They haven't walked these fields or they would know
Of course there must be ghosts.

How could there not be?
When you think a moment
About what happened here
Of course there must be ghosts.

All those bullets, all those shells
The lucky ones who died at once,
The others who lingered, suffering.
Of course there must be ghosts.

And what of those who stood
In the green of the cemetary
And listened to the tall man speak
Of the last full measure of devotion.
Of course there must be ghosts.

And what of those who survived.
Who went back home when it all was done
Tried to keep the peace their generals had made.
They must come back here too.
They must return to this place
Where great deeds were done by "ordinary" men.
They must find their brothers again.

Of course there must be ghosts.

Thursday, October 4, 2012

On Great Fields Something Stays

"In great deeds, something abides.
On great fields, something stays.
Forms change and pass; bodies disappear; but spirits linger,
 to consecrate ground for the vision-place of souls.
And reverent men and women from afar,
and generations that know us not and that we know not of,
heart-drawn to see where and by whom great things were suffered and done for them,
shall come to this deathless field,
 to ponder and dream..."

Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain
Dedication of the Maine memorials
October 3, 1888

I like to think of this as the second best thing anyone ever said at Gettysburg. Or to put it another way the best speech ever made by someone who was at the battle. And just as Lincoln's speech perfectly laid out the reasons behind the war, General Chamberlain's speech perfectly captures what it is to come to Gettysburg.

Some places have a special presence, an aliveness if you will. Call it ghosts, call it psychic energy, call it collective consciousness, or whatever else you want, but something is there at places like Gettysburg.  In fact, if one has any sense of spiritual awareness at all, one might ask the opposite question. How could the things that  took place at Gettysburg happen and not leave an imprint upon the land?

The first time I visited Gettysburg I was in college. I had never visited a battlefield before, but thanks to the college history professor who required us to read The Killer Angels, I had a decent overview of
the battle. My dad bought the audio tape for the driving tour and off we went. Because of my dads difficulties walking we mostly drove around, occasionally getting out to take pictures, but even still I perceived the energy that lingers over the battlefield, That trip I was most impressed with the many many memorials to individual regiments, as well as to whole states. Most monuments are at the spot where that group fought.  Most were placed while the veterans of the battle were alive, and able to return to the places where they had so heroically fought and watched others die.  These monuments for the most part honor both the casualties and the survivors. The strongest feeling one gets when looking at the memorials is pride: these  men on both sides were proud of how well they fought, of their courage and daring. 

Nearly 25 years later, I went to Gettysburg again, this time with my children. My empathic  daughter found the battlefield totally oppressive, she could feel the soldiers suffering she said. My son, on the other hand, was fascinated. He had been to one other battlefield, Washington's Crossing in Trenton, but he had never seen anything on the scale of Gettysburg.  On the second day we did 2 things that left lasting memories for both of us. One was going to Little Round Top and walking the area where a relative few Union soldiers held off the Confederates trying to flank the Union line.  When you see how far the 20th Maine memorial is from everything else around it, you get a sense of how isolated they were from the rest of the battle.

The other thing we did was walk Pickett's Charge. I recommend doing this to any physically able person who visits Gettysburg. Only by walking the length of the field can you understand what a madly heroic thing the Charge was.  At one point the ground dips, so you can't see where you are going, but you realize the watchers on the other side can still see you.  Eventually you come to a fence that everyone would have had to climb over, and understand at that point they were basically sitting ducks.  Wrong cause or not....(and I fervently believe their cause was wrong) one can still only marvel at the courage it took to keep crossing that field.
Walking Pickett's Charge

The Fence

The view from the union lines

So this past week I went again to Gettysburg, this time in the company of my son only. He was delighted to have as much time as he wanted to walk the fields and explore the monuments. When I  got tired of   walking I simply handed him the camera and waited for him. (Gettysburg is a great place to just sit and think, also.)

This year, for the first time in our visits, we went to the cemetery. The cemetery isn't really that large, only about 12 acres, but it must have looked different in 1863, with all those freshly dug graves.  The graves are arranged by states, with named markers when identification was possible, but in many cases it was not, and one of the most moving sights in Gettysburg is the many small markers bearing only a number.

The place where Lincoln spoke is marked as well, and as you stand there looking across the graves, you can imagine what was Lincoln's mind as he spoke of "the last full measure of devotion" that was spread out in front of him. 

Another reason for the unique atmosphere  of Gettysburg is that it has been so well preserved and maintained.  The town itself has remained small and charming, there are no chain stores or fast food restaurants in the vicinity of the main battlefield, and if some of the attractions run a little to the tacky, you can always move on to the next one. The many ghost tours seem to be  treated by local people with the same sort of affection that people in Salem have for witches. Because it is so well preserved it is possible to stand at nearly every important site of the battle, and almost all of it is in walking distance of the town square (which is a circle by the way)

And there are other bits of history that aren't even related to the civil war.  Eddie Plank, a baseball Hall of Famer was from Gettysburg. There is a tavern and a ball field that honor him. And Gettysburg is where Dwight Eisenhower retired after his presidency. He wrote his memoirs in an office on the college campus that is now the admissions office, and his farm and house have been preserved by the Parks Service and can be toured. 

In the end the  coolest thing about Gettysburg is that even as it represents conflict and suffering it is a symbol of reconcilliation and peace as well. It was here that the great reunions of veterans from both sides were held in years after the war. It was here that on the 75th anniversary of the battle FDR dedicated the Peace Flame that has burned ever since.

As I mentioned in previous posts, I freely admit to being a history geek of sorts. I have been to a lot of historic places in the US, and hope to get to many more. A few though have a unique aura, as if the people who lived there are still around, or if the ground or building has a life of its own. Independence Hall in Philadelphia, Monticello, the deck of the Constitution in Boston...these places have a life force of their own.

And so does Gettysburg.

OctPoWriMo day 4--A Litany for Banned Books Week

A Litany for Banned Books Week

"There is more than one way to burn a book, and the world is full of people running around with matches"  Ray Bradbury

Huckleberry Finn because he uses the N word.

Anne Frank because she talks about her period, and argues with her mom, and the book
          is too depressing anyway.

The Wizard of Oz because there are good witches.

Tom Sawyer because he sets a bad example.

In the Night Kitchen because Mickey drops his drawers.

Bridge to Terabithia because there is magic

Bad language has cause the banning of:
        The Grapes of Wrath
         Of Mice and Men
          A Clockwork Orange  
          Catcher in the Rye
          The Great Gatsby
           Most everything Hemingway ever wrote.

Harry Potter because he attends a school for wizardry and witchcraft, and breaks rules, and might be
          too scary for the kids.

Someone burned the Lord of the Rings for being satanic (which would have astounded that
      good  Catholic Tolkien)

Some places have even tried to ban Fahrenheit 451 (irony is lost on the intolerant)

Heather Has Two Mommies because, well Heather has two mommies.
Tango makes Three because there are 2 penguin daddies.

To Kill a Mockingbird because....hell I don't know why anyone would ban To Kill a Mockingbird.


"Don't join the book burners. Don't  think you are going to conceal faults by concealing evidence that
they ever existed.  Don't be afraid to go in your library and read every book"
                                                                                Dwight Eisenhower


Wednesday, October 3, 2012

OctPoWriMo day 3---Dancing Girl

My daughter came out of dance class last night and observed that if it was going to hurt anyway, she might as well make it as beautiful as possible...


Dancing Girl

Dancing girl standing tall
Really not aware at all
Of any watching eyes

Except her teacher. Her corrections
All she hears. Her directions
The only thing she goes by.

She stands on pointe then reaching high
She leaps as if to touch the sky
Without any other care it seems.

But at homewe  see the pain,
She's icing down her feet again
The price of beauty few achieve...

The chance to move across the floor
Really asking nothing more
Except to try her gift and chase the dream.


Tuesday, October 2, 2012

Bus Depot Blues

As mentioned before, the Boy and I just returned from a college trip to Gettysburg, PA. On our return trip we spent most of the day sightseeing in the state capital in Harrisburg. Even after visiting the Civil War Museum (a cool place, check it out if you get go there), and after walking the 2 miles from the bus depot to the museum and back again, and finding a nice hole in the wall pizza place with delicious pizza at 1.80 a slice; we still wound up with about a 6 hour wait at the Greyhound Station before our bus left at 10pm.

Bus depots are an interesting place to sit and wait. This one was pretty simple: a ticket counter, decent plastic chairs, some vending machines. Upstairs there was an Amtrak station that had a news stand and coffee shop, we made several trips up there. There were also gumball machines and an outrageously annoying pick the toy up with a crane game--which inexplicably sprang to life every 5 minutes or so, played about 15 seconds of music before falling silent again. It was an old faithful of astoundingly irritating concessions. The Boy finally resorted to Pandora on his cell phone to shut it all out.

When we arrived at the station it was nearly empty and we were able to secure prime seating.  Prime seating in a bus depot is anything close to an electric outlet--thereby allowing equipment to be charged before boarding the bus.  Although Greyhound has been adding upgraded buses with electric outlets at every seat, free wireless, and more leg room one cannot count on getting such rides.
You can charge a lot of stuff in 6 hours.  The Boy had 3 batteries for his cell phone, due to an unhappy experience on another recent trip when he was left wide awake in the middle of the night with a dead cell phone.  All were completely charged before departure along with his IPOD and my cell phone. 

 
For some reason a lot of the people in the bus station look really depressed. I don't know if the cause of their depression relates to their reasons for travelling, or  the place they are travelling to, or simply because they are riding a bus. The kids and I always thought of getting on a bus as a big adventure, or at least the gateway to an adventure, though they haven't always been as keen on long bus layovers.  The Girl once had a major meltdown when a 6 hour layover was extended to an 8 hour layover due to a bus breakdown, alleviated only by the stuffed animal she had brought, and the friend we were travelling to see texting us a picture of the chocolate cake she had waiting for us on arrival.
 
Some folks get right down to it--they whip out their books or laptops and never look up till their bus is called.  Some dance back and forth between the counter and the seats, repeatedly inquiring about departure times and other details.  Others have lengthy phone conversations with either the person they just left or the one they are going to see, with loud details that no one else really wants to know. 
 
Some people suffer from the illusion that other travellers, particularly single ones, want to talk.  Indeed one advantage of travelling with younger children is they tend to scare off the random conversationalists.
 
The Boy and I sat and watched and made the best of it--back and forth between our electronic devices and discussion of our weekend occasionally plotting the demise of the Prize Time Machine; fantasizing about the effects of everything from crossbows to missile launchers upon it, until our bus was called and we were on our way home at last.

OctPoWriMo Day 2

Every Parent Knows

Every Parent knows
That children change and grow.
Its hard to watch them though,
Hard to let them go.

For us it truly is a plight,
It seems to happen overnight.
Baby to child to teen and then
Before you know it women and men.

One day they just want to cuddle,
The next day life's a social muddle.
One year they worry about climbing trees
Suddenly its SAT's.

Every parent understands
Its really all out of our hands.
In the end we watch the show,
There nothing to do but let them go.







Monday, October 1, 2012

College Visit

    As I have mentioned several times in this blog I am the mother of a boy who is currently a high school senior.  As I have also mentioned before, the last year or so has been filled with a number of what I think of as Rites of Passage moments, milestones along the way to his adulthood and independence.  This last week produced another such milestone, as I accompanied him on his first college visit.

     Our destination was Gettysburg,PA, a 6-8  hour drive from Northeastern Ohio. Since our car objects to traveling 6-8 miles, and other forms of public transit were either too expensive or too inconvenient, we opted for Greyhound. The trip was actually pleasant, except for some bizarre routing that required us to go north to Cleveland in order to go east to Pittsburgh, a maneuver that added about 4 hours onto our trip.

     Gettysburg College has been our son's first choice ever since he started thinking about post secondary education. The opportunity to study American History, and especially Civil War History, in an area that so much of it happened drew him.  Our visit had several purposes. He would be able to view the campus, have an application interview, and also see something of the town. Oh and maybe get a little time on the battlefield. 

       The visit was a success in every respect. 

        We arrived on Thursday morning, dropped our bags at the motel, and spent the rest of the day on and off the battlefields. Our motel actually had a view out the window of the National Cemetery. It should tell you something about my son that he was delighted by this fact. The town has free bus service that loops around all the major sites, but we also walked around. We were both delighted by the friendliness and helpfulness of everyone we met. The Boy was happy to see that there were a lot of things to do including easy access to a Walmart.

      On Friday morning we reported promptly at 0830 to campus, where a full day of activities had been set up for him. The history buff was delighted to discover that we were in a building that had once been Dwight Eisenhower's office.  After his interview he went off with a tour guide for the rest of the day. I went on a parents tour, then spent the rest of the day exploring all those little antique and curiosity shops that a 17 year old boy wouldn't be caught dead in.

        When I came back at 3:30 it was to pick up a delighted son.  He liked everything he had seen: the facilities, the students, the professors. And to a mother's eye, it seemed that once again he had grown a bit more, matured a bit. Maybe because this was the first time he had really envisioned his future. We have talked about it, but now he was actually seeing it or at least seeing what it could be, and it showed in the way he talked about his day and his plans.

       Now we move on to the tangles of the application process. But at least he has the goal in sight at last.  

OctPoWriMo Day 1

A friend of mine challenged me to take part in the October Writing Challenge. Its deceptively simple task, to write a poem a day for the month of October. At one time I wrote poetry alot but over time I got away from it, and this looked like a good way to try to get back.

For me writing daily poetry on demand more or less is difficult. My grandmother was able to sit down with paper and inspiration and come up with short light verses seemingly without effort. I did not inherit this ability from her. So advance warning,due to reasons both creative and technological I may not post daily. I will try to average out to  31 poems however.

Day 1

The Challenge

Trying hard to take the time
To find the rhythm and the rhyme.
No sure how it all will go
But in a month or so we'll know.