On a Spring Walk . . .

The clouds are spun sugar daydreams.
Squirrels are deep into their hidden nut buffet.
Chipmunks vanish into freshly burrowed soil.
Pink cherry blossoms look like fragile blown glass.

God is everywhere.
The lilacs make me gasp.

No Test Left Behind

So it's Ohio Achievement Test week. Hooray! What we teachers have worked for all year. I'm sure you've heard a lot of horrible things about the No Child Left Behind Act - and they're all true. It's based on a one-size-fits-all approach to learning and assessment. Too bad all children aren't the same size. If a school is struggling because say, many of their children are transient and have attended 5-7 different schools by the time they're in fifth grade - or say the school is too poor to provide resources for all the neglected, abused and foster children that attend there - or say the school can't control how many pregnant teenagers took drugs while pregnant and their children are riddled with all sorts of disorders and learning and behavior problems - say - so what? Does NCLB help a struggling school? No - it punishes - it takes away funding and has the power to "reorganize" the school or shut it down. Billions of dollars go to illegal immigrants and the war - but there doesn't seem to be enough money for American education. Demands are put on schools with minimal funds to achieve them. Surveys have shown that more than half of teachers claim to spend more than 50% of the school year on testing. We have no choice. Learning and discovery are no longer important - only test results. I administer these tests and there are reading selections that even I can't relate to, but we expect urban, suburban and rural children to all understand them in the same way.

Yesterday was the reading portion of the test. (By the way each of the 4 subtests each take an entire morning) One of my students was visibly upset when she came into my room. She wouldn't look at the test and began crying. (We're on a time schedule of course.) I tried to talk to her but she didn't want to talk to anyone. She just kept crying and I could tell it wasn't about the test. This little girl has had a great year, but last year went through a horrible trauma. About two months ago her aunt and uncle were shot by their son- the uncle died, the aunt is still hospitalized. So here I stand trying to tell her how important this damn test is. Then I stopped. She wanted to take it. For awhile her tears fell on the test booklet, but then somehow she continued and did fine. The experience just reminded me how UNIMPORTANT tests are to children compared to what's going on in their real lives.

No Child Left Behind certainly has a good intention behind it because, in fact, no child should be left behind whether they are poor, minority, disabled, immigrant or anything else. But I think the act assumes that teachers are at fault. The act is really testing us to see if we're doing our jobs. I'm sure there are bad, uncaring teachers, but I've worked with dozens of teachers over my career and maybe 1% of them were what I would call bad. Yet, we are blamed for everything. In today's Plain Dealer some moron wrote "The first intelligent action is that the states and cities must stop rewarding the teachers and administrators with endless raises for producing an endless stream of functional illiterates with no hirable skills or training. Until this action is taken we will continuously fall behind all other industrial nations."(States and cities don't pay us - that's negotiated with the school board.)

So we're supposed to work all day with difficult children, under difficult working conditions and the pressure of test scores - earn our Master's degrees and work for free?

Sir, the problem goes way beyond what teachers are humanly capable of in a six hour school day.

Can improvements be made? Sure, but ample personnel for all that a school needs to tackle every day takes money. Keeping up with technology and the way children learn in 2008 takes a whole heap of money.

Who's making money? The school testing and testing service industry is now an estimated $2.3 billion a year enterprise, with just five big companies controlling 90% of the statewide testing revenue. Give that money and the money wasted on school vouchers that goes to charter schools run by businessmen back to the public schools and let us do the job we are yearning to do. See, we really get a kick out of seeing children learn and grow - that's why we became teachers in the first place.

Seven Things About Me

My new blogging friend, Ruth tagged me for this post. I've never done this before so here goes:

1. Four things I've never done: smoked a cigarette, drank a whole cup of coffee, put ketchup on anything, flipped anyone off.

2. I starred in my Senior High school musical. It was called Carnival and I was Lily. I've sung ever since, but that was the beginning and end of my acting and dancing career.

3. I've been paragliding in Cancun and whitewater rafting in West Virginia - loved both.

4. I am a tea addict.

5. I host a family reunion at my house every summer. We have about 35-40 people come from 8-10 states each year.

6. I had breast reduction surgery when I was 40 and have never regretted it for one second.

7. When I was a poor single mother someone anonymously sent me a plant with $1000.

Scroll down to my Beautiful Bloggers and if you're on it consider yourself tagged. If you want to put your link on my list just let me know !

My One True Enemy

There is an enemy

so rude, so invasive.

It forces its way into my life

and takes over.

It looks innocent but

inflicts red heat and torture

to all who dare to come near.

Its essence remains

even when it can no longer be seen.

It robs me of sleep, and

of closeness to the one I love.

It has scarred and abused me
and sullied what's left of my beauty.

When I reach the Pearly Gates

and I meet God face to face

I will ask why, why, O God

did You create poison ivy?

Skywatch Friday

We all know that the sky is changeable - but I never knew how fast it changed until I started trying to capture a photo of it. I would be driving along and think I'll get this shot as soon as I get to a parking lot or to the top of the hill - but it would be too late in just seconds. This was another morning shot on the way to work this week.

Children Singing

The voices of singing children always makes me cry - but in this video they are singing a song by my girl, Tori Amos! It is the PS22 school in NYC. I love the looks on some of their faces - they've been watching a lot of American Idol, I believe.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sfHXm8F13f8

Go Road Tripping

The advertisement to the right is not any old ad. It is my sister's new website. Anything you want to know about travel in the USA is there. Please take a look and pass it along to your friends and family. Here are a couple enticing pics of Cleveland if you ever are tempted to visit. (I dare you). One is the glorious Severance Hall, home of the Cleveland Orchestra and Chorus.

Hoarding God

The prayer chain had a list of requests
that grew longer and longer like the chain
of red and green paper circles we made
at Christmastime; a kindergarten room
encumbered with breakable loops.

How could we word each one differently
so God would stay interested?
We prayed dutifully for each needful
circumstance, fragile body, spirit.
If healed the prayer became praise,

in death God rested their souls.
He got credit for pleasant outcomes.
The others vanished from conversations
as if in His omniscience He'd put egg
on His own face by giving the wrong answer.

Yet, like Dorothy in her ruby slippers
the power always existed
in gifts of intellect, volition,
grace extended but not always taken
the chain of choices in a human lifetime.

Praying- when it doesn't seem like it's working . . .

This is a quote by Harold Kushner, who wrote Why Bad Things Happen to Good People:

God doesn't control everything. God doesn't control and suspend the laws of nature and God doesn't make sure that human beings only do what God wants them to do. Once I realized that God was a God of love and not a God of total power, everything fell into place. Now when I pray to God, I don't bargain, I don't ask, "What can I do for you God, so you'll do this for me?" I don't try to persuade God that I deserve to be given whatever it is I need or want. All I say is, "God, this is a time when I need you. I just need to know I am not alone." This sort of prayer never fails me.

Proud to be an American

Yesterday I had the honor of witnessing eighty people become American citizens. My school's fifth grade classes were able to have a tour of the Federal Court House and witness a naturalization ceremony because the judge is the grandfather of one of our students. Another one of our students saw his mother become a citizen as well. I found myself really holding back tears at the realization of what they were doing. All of the prospective citizens stand, hold up their hand, an oath is read and they say "I do." That's it - although I know there is much preparation ahead of time. The judge then explained why he disliked the oath because it had archaic words in it such as abjure. He made them all stand as he read an oath that he wrote and they said I do again. Some of them looked confused, but I appreciated his convictions. He gave a speech on why we pay taxes and how important their vote is. Then he asked them to never forget their homeland and their heritage and to share it with their children and grandchildren. He felt strongly about this because his own painful Russian Jewish family history had not been spoken of and he did not know where his people came from. I thought that was a beautiful sentiment as well.

Before all of that they students had two scared straight lectures primarily about drugs. They met with a federal marshall and one student was handcuffed and shackled for effect. The marshall emphasized how not fun it was to be in prison. We actually saw the prison and one orange-suited man in shackles being led from a cell in the elevator to his permanant cell a few yards away. Many of the student questions were about people escaping -but all they heard was - no one escapes here.

We sat in the judges court room and heard another lecture on the danger of drug involvement. This judge says he now convicts people to life in prison for multiple drug convictions. We saw the judges chambers - about the same square footage as my entire house - and his view of Lake Erie and the Cuyahoga River. If that was my office I'd spend all day staring out the window I'm sure.

The Federal Court House in Cleveland is only a few years old and a spectacular place to visit. The bus ride with 50 fifth graders was pure hell - but it was worth it.

Happy Friday - Skywatch

I had a great skywatch photo to post today - but couldn't upload it for some reason. This is a photo I took last fall on my way to New York City at dawn. I also couldn't seem to make it larger. Check back next Friday!!!
This week in the Cleveland area the sky was perfectly clear every day! Just when you'd like a little drama in the skies - then it decides to be baby blue - not even a baby cloud. We're not complaining though.

Primal Scream Moment

Can I just say AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!! If someone ever sweet-talks you into starting a new job when you still have your old one - run screaming in the other direction. My supervisor prefaced her request with "I know you're really a team player and you really care about kids." Well, yes, but I'm considering retiring from the team player part. I feel like everything I worked on, organized and accomplished since last August is slowly swirling around and around in the toilet bowl and about to disappear into the sewer. In short, I feel like my efforts have been treated like a piece of crap. Sorry, but that's all I got right now. I'm heading towards the wine bottle in the refrigerator. Maybe the next post will be of some value if I make it through Friday. In the immortal words of Scarlett O'Hara - Tomorrow is another day.

Rambling Tuesday

Kinda tired today after getting home from neighborhood book club at midnight last night. - oops!We watched "No Country for Old Men" after reading the book - can someone explain to me WHY this won Best Picture Oscar? Maybe I missed something besides the guns and killing. So today was busy - I have to prepare for new students in a different building I'm being sent to every afternoon,(starting yesterday), had a meeting to allow one of my students to receive ESY (extended school year) because he's in fifth grade and only knows 90 words and will most likely forget those over the summer. That same boy cried all morning yesterday when I told him I wouldn't be there in the afternoons anymore.) Then another meeting to write an IEP (Individual Education Plan) for another new student. The mother was crying because she also has a learning disability and doesn't want her child to go through what she went through in school. OH YEAH, I forgot! In the middle of that we had a school LOCK-DOWN. This happens when the principal makes an announcement over the PA saying in code that there is an uninvited guest in the building. I was in the library at the computers with 4 kids. We raced into a nearby office, slammed and locked the door, turned off the lights and hid. Another teacher and about 6 other kids were in there. We waited and waited and pretty soon all of us were saying - Ummm - don't think this is a drill. We sat quietly (hey they can be quiet!) for 25 minutes. Turns out someone was in an empty room rooting around for a teacher's purse. He was buzzed in but didn't check into the office. He's in a building teeming with teachers and kids and has to be buzzed in by the camera by the door to steal from a purse??? What a genious!!! The police were there and he was found. In between all that I had lunch with two friends - and oh yeah, I did some teaching too!

The Wisdom of Willie Wonka

I'm not a big movie person. I like to watch a movie if it's worthwhile and gives me something to think about the next day. I don't see the point in buying movies, and I don't want to spend much time re-watching ones I've seen. Yet, there are movies that, when you're channel surfing, you will always stop and get caught up in - even if you've seen it a dozen times. My husband and I don't typically have the same taste in movies (or anything else), but neither of us can resist watching "Forrest Gump" when it's on. It's like two kids with a video game - we just can't look away. We're fixated. I love the scene when Forrest discovers that he's a father. The look on Tom Hanks' face is stunning. I'm a sucker for Judy singing "Over the Rainbow", and Rhett carrying Scarlet up the staircase to ravish her. I will laugh until tears spill down my face at Jim Carrey beating himself up in the bathroom in "Liar,Liar" or the deer tearing the car apart in "Tommy Boy."

But I've decided my favorite movie scene is from the ORIGINAL Willie Wonka (I adore Johnny Depp -hey, I've still got a hormone or two floating around in there - but even he can't outdo Gene Wilder's Willie Wonka.)

The scene is near the end of the movie when Charlie puts a piece of candy he stole on Willie's desk. Without looking up Willie puts his hand over the candy and says,

"So shines a good deed in a weary world." Love it. Beautiful. Ahhh, now that's a movie scene to remember.

What's your favorite movie scene???? Let me know and I'll make a list.

What Teachers Make

The dinner guests were sitting around the table discussing careers and salaries. A CEO argued, "What's a kid going to learn from someone who decided his best option in life was to become a teacher? Those who can, do. Those who can't, teach," he laughed.

To stress his point he said to another guest, "You're a teacher, Bonnie. Be honest. What do you make?"

Bonnie paused, then replied,"You want to know what I make? Well, I make kids work harder than they ever thought they could. I make a C+ feel like a Medal of Honor. I make kids sit through 40 minutes of class when some parents can't make them sit for 5 without an iPod or a DVD or a video game. "

She paused again, "You really want to know what I make? I make kids wonder. I make them question and think critically. I make them apologize and mean it. I make them have respect and take responsibility for their actions. I teach them to write and then I make them write. I make them read and read some more. I make them show all their work in math. I make my students from other countries learn everything they need to know in English while preserving their cultural identity. I make them stand when they say the Pledge of Allegiance because we live in the United States of America. I make them understand that if they use the gifts they've been given, work hard, and follow their hearts they can succeed in this life. I make my classroom a safe place for all my students."

Bonnie paused once again, "I make a difference. What do you make?"

The Cleveland Orchestra and Chorus

No matter what anyone erroneously says about Cleveland - we have the Cleveland Orchestra and Chorus and Severance Hall. Last night my mom and I heard one of my favorite works - Leonard Bernstein's Chichester Psalms. I've had the joy of singing this piece during one of the 15 summers I spent singing with the Blossom Festival Chorus - the summer Orchestra Chorus. It was an amazing experience sitting behind the world famous Cleveland Orchestra for all those years. A highlight was singing under the direction of Robert Shaw, probably the most famous choral director of the 20th century. Ironically, my mom had sung under his direction in Pittsburgh years before. Severance Hall was renovated several years ago. It is impossible to describe the beauty of this concert hall. Inside you feel like you are sitting inside of a diamond. It is the definition of the word luminescent. This picture won't do it justice - but here's an idea.

Skywatch Friday

A while ago I realized that every day on my way to work I was driving over a hill that appeared to be the highest point in the county. I looked it up and I was right (at least for the east side of the city) It is a 1250 elevation - which is nothing for most places - but a veritable mountain for northeast Ohio. I often see beautiful views of the rising sun - so I joined Skywatch Friday and will post a photo each Friday of the heavens. If you want to see more sky photos go to http://womtig.blogspot.com/.

Betsy McCall

Is this the cutest doll you've ever seen, or what?

Her name is Betsy McCall and she has been

preserved from my childhood (long long ago).

McCall's magazine had Betsy as a paper doll every

month. I think my doll was sent away for - not

ever available from stores. She sits in my glass

cabinet in her original adorable outfit. She's only

about 7 inches high.

Writing is Like Parenting

Being a writer is like being a parent. It's part instinct and part crapshoot. You have a deep love and passion for it, but your daily efforts don't always appear to pay off. In writing, like parenting (as well as other arts) you have a lot to say, but sometimes no one is listening. You do both of them out of love.

Everything you produce is, and always will be, your baby. You have vivid dreams for the beloved's future. The rewards can be bittersweet. You let your child go out into the world realizing that was the goal - but your heart aches. You give your words little wings and watch them fly out of your hands (or computer) - and you can get hurt from that too, no matter how hard you worked or what your intentions.

One strangely universal experience of writers is that we proudly launch our books or blogs and they are ignored by those we're closest to. At first we are stunned. Just like with our children - you reject my baby, you reject me! Ouch! Here are a few of my theories:

1. In our writing we've opened a vein and let our guts spill out and it's plain old TMI. It might evoke emotion in the reader, they might not like blood-letting. Some people are afraid of feeling something.

2. The reader can't separate the writer from the writing, and that's understandable. But we writers DO have some imagination you know! We spend time observing other people's lives and take copious notes. So everything we write isn't necessarily from experience.

3. It's a time commitment. If you ask someone to read a book you're asking a lot:

a. The reader may not like to be told what to read - it's not their genre of preference.

b. They're pretty sure your book stinks and THEN what will they say?

c. They resent your accomplishment and do not want to honor it with attention.

d. They're afraid you are smarter than they thought and they're jealous.

e. They are illiterate and don't want you to know. (I think it's mostly a. or b.)

The thing is - we writers are okay with constructive criticism. It helps us improve our craft. We form groups to critique each other's work all the time. We also understand that books are a matter of taste. We're not necessarily brilliant - we just get fulfillment from writing - like someone else might from cooking or decorating or whittling.

We do, I suppose, believe we have something of value to say though, and therefore would like it to be read. If you don't love it, it's okay - just a kind word about the effort or love that went into it will do.

For the most part writers are insecure. We doubt our abilities and motivations on a daily basis. But we have a passion for self-expression that God cursed us with. We can work on a paragraph for weeks and then tear it up screaming My writing sucks and I am the suckiest writer who ever lived! We're much harder on ourselves than the readers.

So if you generously give your time to a struggling word-obsessed writer such as myself - and it does indeed suck - don't be too hard on us. We don't think of ourselves as geniuses. We're not looking for the Pulitzer Prize or Oprah's accolades - we're just doing something we love doing and apparently can't stop doing no matter what you say. Just like we'll always love and be proud of our children - no matter what anyone says.

A Daughter and Son

Beautiful

My girl, a woman.

We talk of love and fights,

work and dreams like girlfriends.

She has infinite patience

with the "when you were little" stories

that are now multiplying, their goodness

and simplicity comforting me

like a soft blanket over a sheet of doubts.

I search for myself in her deep-set eyes

so different from mine, nothing that can be seen

is the same, but maybe our souls.

Where am I in the wondrous thing she's become?

Where did she learn to forgive so well,

to delight in so little,

to love so beautiful,

even though I thought I'd shown her

everything I did not want her to see?

Soon she will fly, her hands

will make beautiful things

and she will be more.

There is no beginning or end to a daughter,

in the endless sychronicity of mothers and daughters

each generation is more and

she will be more than me.

Son

A son makes you laugh

because he is a man

as you never imagined.

You hear manly words

and you giggle with delight

in the surprise of it all.

The joy in the aftermath of anger

is an oracle, its message

is the long-awaited tranquility.

Then the cleaning out of your

overflowing trunk of prayers

is like the ending

of your favorite book.

And when you hear that

manly voice say Mom,

it's the only voice you've ever known.

Blue Skies

This is how I feel right now because my daughter is coming home today. That's all.

The Pregnant Man

I just saw some of the Oprah show about the pregnant man in Oregon. Obviously he WAS a woman, took hormones, grew a beard and a small penis (his words). He kept the female reproductive organs, found a woman he loves, they want a baby and the wife had had a hysterectomy. So he's pregnant. A doctor said it's a normal pregnancy, he stopped taking hormones two years ago, the baby's normal - they're thrilled. These two people love each other. They have a nice home - they want a child.

So after the show the news comes on. There's a lead story about how people think it's a hoax, it's sick, the baby will be a freak - COME ON! The man has a woman's body and is having a baby - SO WHAT? Is is just me or are people so reserved and closed-minded they can't see how normal this really is? As Thomas (the man) said - I'm a human being and I have a right to have a biological child. In my opinion yes, he does.

Back in the Day

A blogging buddy posted a small tirade about how things have changed since she was a child. It is a story we're all accustomed to hearing in our childhood from our elders, but then somewhat shocking when we're old enough to start speaking on it ourselves. It is actually quite frightening how fast things change the older you get. I, for one, NEVER thought I would rush home to spend time on a computer! (Like right now). I don't think I want to list all the ways the world has changed since I was a child - that would be kinda depressing - but here is a small news item that caught my eye this morning from Waycross, Georgia. It says more than enough.

Third graders plotted to attack their teacher, bringing a broken steak knife, handcuffs, duct tape and other items for the job, police said Tuesday. The plot involving as many as nine boys and girld at Center Elementary School in south Georgia was a serious threat, police said. School officials alerted police Friday after a pupil tipped off a teacher. Police said the students apparently planned to knock the teacher unconscious, bind her with the handcuffs and tape and then stab her. It wasn't clear whether they planned to kill her. They were apparently mad because the teacher scolded one of them. Two of the students were arrested on juvenile charges and a third arrest was expected.

That's more than enough change for me, how about you?

Fortuity

Today - just an ordinary Tuesday - or so I thought. After lunchtime the fifth graders were to go to the Middle School for some sort of assembly. I didn't know what it was about and I had no good excuse not to go - so I went along. (It's right next door). On the aging and forlorn auditorium stage were a set of drums, a Hammond B3, and guitar - hmmmm interesting. We sat for awhile trying to keep kids in their seats and calm. Then someone comes out to introduce Brian Auger. Brian Auger? The name is quite familiar. He's arguably a legendary rock and jazz keyboard artist, best known in the 60's and 70's for playing with groups like Led Zeppelin and his own group Oblivion Express. He comes out and speaks to the kids in a kindly British accent, introduces his son on the drums (his name is Karma) and his daughter, Savannah as the vocalist, and a bass player too. They play a couple really incredible songs. The student sitting next to me kept covering his ears and yelling " its' too loud!" and the Middle School kids were extremely rude, but I enjoyed every minute of it. But the coolest part to me, was that you can be at work on an ordinary Tuesday and find yourself at a mini-concert with a rock legend. I love life's little surprises.

(We're not sure why he was there, but he had gigs at a local jazz club, Nighttown and I heard his agent is from the area.)

What Do Women Want? by Kim Addonizio

I want a red dress.
I want it flimsy and cheap,
I want it too tight, I want to wear it
until someone tears it off me.
I want it sleeveless and backless,
this dress, so no one has to guess
what's underneath. I want to walk down
the street past Thrifty's and the hardware store
with all those keys glittering in the window,
past Mr. and Mrs. Wong selling all those day-old
donuts in their cafe, past the Guerra brothers
slinging pigs from their truck and onto the dolly,
hoisting the slick snouts over their shoulders.
I want to walk like I'm the only
woman on earth and I can have my pick.
I want that red dress bad.
I want it to confirm
your worst fears about me,
to show you how little I care about you
or anything except what
I want. When I find it I'll pull that garment
from its hanger like I'm choosing a body
to carry me into this world, through
the birth-cries and the love-cries too,
and I'll wear it like bones, like skin,
it'll be the goddamned
dress they'll bury me in.

Red

This is a poem in response to my mom's painting.

Her hips move

like a liquid pendulum,

one heel lifts, one knee bends,

one sudden look over her shoulder

glowers at the man seeping

through milky red light.

Arms float, hands flatten like stop signs,

then paddle through the scarlet fog

away from him.

The hem of her dress sways,

strains against the rhythm in her blood.

Shadowed eyelids are heavy, the body light.

When the music ends she will vanish

alone into the scorching white light

of the streets, rushing the dark alley.

In an empty apartment she'll slip

out of red silk and into nothing

until he comes.

Dr. Seuss

I did, in fact, paint whimsical pictures of Dr. Seuss characters on my newly painted bathroom walls. They were cute, but then I painted over them. We just replaced everything in the little bathroom - hardwood floors, new sink and fixtures - and then I turned it into a nursery. I didn't like it. But just to prove it - here are some of the painted over masterpieces:

One Thing that Never Changes

Just to torture myself on my spring break I've spent the last two days shopping. I am 5'2", as are many other women I know. On professional charts I am still an average weight for my height - barely. Yet, every single t-shirt, blouse, sweater and top lands half-way between my crotch and my knees. Anyone who's ever watched "What Not To Wear" knows that long tops on short people just make your legs look even stubbier! Duh! I also require some type of sleeves to keep my upper arms from waving in the wind. I scan entire aisles just by the sleeve lengths. But it must be a little known law that women are only allowed to go sleeveless all summer - and sometimes winter too. This year another style we are apparently being forced into is wearing ballet flat shoes. What if I don't want to wear completely flat shoes? No choice at this point. Of course, that also adds to the stubbiness of one's legs. My point? Fashion designers out there dictate what we can wear, how much time we will waste looking for items that don't exist anymore, and how much pain and suffering we must go through to display some sort of individual fashion sense. When I finally find some sort of summer top that has sleeves and ends at my butt it costs $98 - for a frickin' cotton t-shirt! After two days of this I feel used and abused and resigned to hate my body - just because the stores have convinced me that my body type must be freakishly deformed. So that's my one thing that will never change and that's my rant for today. The end.

Changes

As I think back on Easter I realize that I continue to grow in accepting change in my life. We all desire what's familiar and comforting to us. If you had a nice, stable, traditional childhood, maybe that makes it a little more difficult. You had an indelible image in your mind, a permanent dream in your heart of what life was going to be. I went blindly along for 35 years living in the same area, same people, same church and then Whammo! Everything changed. God made me totally dependent on Him. I had no choice - but boy did I fight it.

We have most holidays at our house and I am always grateful that everyone comes from both sides of our families and they are all wonderful people - but completely different people in a different house than I ever imagined at one point in my life. After over 40 years in one beloved church I now celebrate Easter in a new church. It's not the same. Different people and place there too. We don't sing the Hallelujah Chorus, there are no trumpets, my children are not there, my husband is not there. None of those things seem right to me. I still ache for things to be the way I think they should be. But it was still Easter in my heart.

If you are a parent you will be pushed and shoved into change. You take a little step every day as your children grow before your eyes. You know big changes will come, but you can't imagine how it will be. It will be heart-wrenching and wonderful all at the same time. Maybe God shows us through our children that nothing can stay. Nothing we have is immuned to being taken or changed - except what we believe, except love. Traditions change, children grow, loved ones die, life turns out different than we expected. That is why I can't imagine life without the one unchanging God. That is why I celebrate the eternal message of Easter.

Lazarus Heart

A poem from my life long ago - but worth remembering - maybe for someone out there.

My Lazarus heart is alive and well
and I am human for the first time.
The shriveled and unraveled rope
is woven into a virgin tapestry
of a stronger and iridescent beauty.

It is the solstice of a prolific season.
The days are revelations and
the long instruction time was needed
for the lessons to be meaningful.

The hurting time that seemed eternal
has a healing and healthy end in sight
that can never be forgotten or tempered,
my heart now dedicated to reality and truth.

I leave that previously unknown abyss,
that place without God that is now known to me.
I am on the road less traveled
and my Lazarus heart is alive and well.

Happy Easter to my blogging friends

It's Friday . . .

but Sunday's comin'.

Happy Spring

Even though we had two inches of snow
last night -as the Lion said - I do believe,
I do believe, I do believe. . . .

The Peter Pan Syndrome

The other night we had a discussion about how men in TV sitcoms are usually portrayed as adolescent, insensitive, lacking common sense and just plain stupid. Even though I am a woman, I sometimes object to the fact that men are almost always the village idiots of the television world. (I don't think it's good for young boys to watch these shows thinking they never really have to grow up.)

The next night I took my husband to a fancy upscale restaurant for his birthday. We both enjoy leisurely romantic dinners. I was pleased when we were seated in a quiet corner booth in a secluded area of the restaurant. Two men were in the opposite booth. While devouring our appetizer of mussels one of the men began talking and laughing loudly on a cell phone. Apparently the person he was speaking to was named Asshole. Then there was a commotion and somehow the cell phone ended up behind their booth in an unreachable corner. Pandemonium ensued. Only two words were basically uttered throughout - the aformentioned Asshole and f***. It must have been the most humorous thing that ever happened to them judging by the overly raucous and sustained laughter. The zany escapade went on for quite awhile, bringing servers with flashlights to the area. So much for our romantic dinner.

I really don't know how the phone ended up behind the booth in the first place, but I think it would make quite a realistic television sitcom episode after all.

I wonder if this is what Matthew meant???

Every household divided against itself will not stand.

Matthew 12:25

Going Solo

It is not easy to sing a solo, even if you know how to sing.
First, for some of us, there are the dreams:
Standing alone, facing a crowd, I am wearing
a transparent flesh-colored nightgown,
my hair ridculous because I couldn't find the shower,
or a brush, my alarm clock failing me.
I run down mysterious, dark hallways
frantically seeking a door - or my music.
I am lost on roads I have never seen.
Strangers won't help, friends are inexplicably mute.
Hopelessly late, unavoidable detained,
now the church is missing.
I open my mouth and nothing comes out.

Back in reality:
I sing along with the CD 257 times.
I kill at rehearsal. I pray relentlessly.
I lie awake that night rechecking my alarm
every fifteen minutes. The morning comes -
awash in lemon tea, cough drops and a gallon of water
I drive the familiar streets making sounds
that resemble an injured blue jay.
Then, like the sun breaking through the clouds
my dormant soprano voice makes a timely appearance.
At the church I respond to 39 queries and good wishes.
Then standing alone, at the crucial moment,
a tiny speck of mucus, like a Who from Whoville
perches atop my left vocal cord and effs it all up.
My eyes water, the world looks and feels surreal.
I look past people and focus on the stained glass windows.
I do the best I can.

For these and many other reasons I am not a professional singer!

Writing Thoughts

Henry Miller called writing divine dictation. There have been days that have felt like that - like it's Christmas morning and you've just been given an extra unexpected gift - the gift of words and ideas flowing through your fingertips. Of course, it's not always that way. The novel I am writing started that way. I don't think I was even sure I was going to write another one. I was sitting on my deck on a summer afternoon and characters began to write themselves through my pen! ( in first person too) A blessing, yes, but so far, two years of work have come along with them for the ride. Poems come to me out of some mystical place and at the most unexpected times. I sort of just wait for them to arrive most of the time. I don't know exactly why some of us are driven in this manner, but Erica Jong calls writing the first anti-depressant. Hmmmm, maybe so . . .

Here are some other writer's thoughts on the subject:

We write to taste life twice; in the moment and in introspection - Anais Nin

Writing is not a hostile act, but an act of understanding. Even when it's satirical, even when it's bitter - you only write about the things you care about. Indifference doesn't need to be put into words. Henry Miller

If you're a singer, you lose your voice. A baseball player loses his arm. But a writer gets more knowledge, and if he's good, the older he gets, the better he writes. (or she!) Mickey Spillane

Inspiration usually comes during the work, rather than before it - Madeleine L'Engle

(And my favorite) If God gives you something you can do, why, in God's name wouldn't you do it? Stephen King

On A Lighter Note . . . .

Yes, I will be decorating my bathroom with a Dr. Seuss theme. I find some of his text to be quite philosophical. These wise words may adorn the walls:

You have brains in your head
You have feet in your shoes.
You can steer yourself
any direction you choose.
You're on your own
and you know what you know.
And you are the one
who'll decide where to go.

You'll get mixed up, of course,
as you already know.
You'll get mixed up
with many strange birds as you go.
So be sure when you step
step with care and great tact,
and remember that Life's
a great balancing act.
Just never forget to be dextrous and deft.
And never mix up your right foot with your left.

From Oh, the Places You'll Go

And speaking of Dr. Seuss. I was the guest reader in the kindergarten this week. I read Fox in Socks and it is the hardest book I've ever read!!! If you don't believe me, go on over to Border's and sit down and try to read it out loud without making any mistakes. I dare you.

I Will Sing

I walked the relentless winter streets, past smothered sidewalks with hands so tired of being cold, pulled up into sweater sleeves where they don't belong. I brought my pressure cooker brain with me. It shouted how much I'll miss angel-winged Jacquie, how much I miss my precious daughter-friend. It whispered of all I've never known.
I yearned to keep walking
away from
the afternoon of difficult children
the expectations of the night
the questions about us
the disappointment of me.
Brain said keep walking and don't look back
until Palm Sunday.
I will sing Domine Deus, Rex Coelestis
O thou our Lord God, King of Heaven
Yes, I will sing.

Full Life

Today my heart is sad after seeing my friend's lifeless body in a casket - because she was so full of life here on earth. She couldn't get enough of life. She insisted on seeing everything and doing everything, no matter how difficult or inconvenient it was from her scooter. At the funeral home it wasn't just the weirdness of seeing a body - it was, that of everyone there, Jacquie would have been most likely to be in the middle of the crowd, enjoying, mingling, talking. It reminded me of this very old poem of mine:

This is a solitary journey
to spiritual heights unknown.
The creation of a new life form,
the harbinger of heaven.

In the essence of being
pain intermingles with joy.
Without tears, without doubts
the pursuit is meaningless.

There is iniquity without an alibi,
there is breath without thought.
There is awe beyond comprehension,
gratitude beyond words.

In the creation of me
is a continuous changing vision
of my consecrated life
and aching for what was never known.

Too Late

I just had to erase my friend Jacquie's name from the list of things I was going to do on Spring Break. Jacquie, age 55, died Friday of muscular dystrophy. She had been in and out of the hospital since October. I visited a few times, but not enough. Now it's too late. My advice - don't ever have to erase a friend from a list of things to do. Just do it. Her husband's email was entitled - Jacquie's got her wings - yes she does - and no one deserves them more.

Good News Bad News

The bad news is that it refuses to stop snowing around northeast Ohio and this would have most definitely been another SNOW DAY! Alas, it's Saturday. Not sure I'll even get to church tomorrow it's so bad. The good news is that I have someone special to snuggle up with tonight. He's making corned beef and cabbage for dinner too. Cooked cabbage is comfort food in my book - even though it stinks.

The other bad news is that something is wrong with my little dog, Stella. For about five days she has been acting strangely. She intermitently starts shaking and panting and acting frantic. She tries to get as close to me as possible or she looks like she's trying to find a place to hide. She's taken flying leaps into my lap (at 35 pounds - not a lap dog.) She comes into the bathroom with me. She wants to go out, then turns around and comes back. She hides in places I've never seen her go before. Tuesday I took her to the vet. Unfortunately she always acts like that at the vet - terrified and uncooperative. He said maybe something scared her and gave me two sedatives. Well, five days later I'm still watching her suffer.

The good news is today I called a vet from my church and he was kind enough to actually take the time to try to figure it out -not like my former vet. He said dogs act like that when they're in pain or uncomfortable. The panicky behavior is that they are trying to get away from it. He said it's common for a dog to have a pulled muscle in her back or a pinched nerve in the neck. I gave her a piece of a sedative today and he said I could give her half an aspirin. Then she might need doggie anti-inflammatories. Poor sweetie.

The good news is that, being snowed in today, I got our half-bathroom painted. The bad news is that I chose a peach color, and in the tiny room with no natural light it looks like neon orange. We may have to hang sunglasses outside the door for visitors. I like this bathroom to be whimsical. Once I drew Shel Silverstein pictures all over the walls. Then I painted a window looking out at the ocean and had birds on the adjacent walls. ( see picture) I'm thinking about Dr. Seuss drawings this time. Either way it'll be unusual - hey, it's a bathroom!

Joshua

There is a wonderful book called Joshua by Joseph F. Girzone, a former priest. There are other Joshua books that followed but I liked the first one the best. Joshua is a present-day Jesus figure. Today I'm just going to share some passages from this book that make a lot of sense to me.

We all have to be content with slow progress, Joshua reminded him. Human beings are like plants. They grow in stages and those stages can't be accelerated. In due time plants bear fruit, and with human beings it is much the same. In the proper time and at the proper pace we grow into what God intends us to become. Events take place and strangers cross our path that force us to think. All these things God uses to teach us and suggest a different way of understanding things. So we grow, gradually, imperceptibly, under the subtle guidance of God's own spirit. Being conscious of our success is not important. The left hand should not know what the right hand is doing. That can lead to vanity.

People are so frighteningly rigid and limited in their understanding of things. Do you realize that God can be present in many different ways? In whatever form he uses we should be careful not to prejudice ourselves and say ' He can't come in that form or in this form' because if we do we reduce God to our own limited image, and in doing that run the risk of rejecting him if he comes to us in a way we don't expect. God may be one and he may be simple, but he can also manifest himself in many facets of his greatness.

Tori Day

Today is a Tori day - just need to hear her all day. I've had many Tori days. . . . But tonight I have to go to choir and sing Vivaldi's Gloria - gotta love the musical paradox.

Kinda like my life right now - beauty and two varieties of pain.

Coexist VI -The Sexes

I believe in the equality of all human beings and in coexisting, but I have never felt the need to label myself a feminist. I think that's because it's so obvious that God made men and women with different abilities, strengths and desires. Feminism sort of said to me that I was supposed to be more like a man. We all raise our children to be "anything you want to be." But maybe we should say - find your strengths and do something you can do well. I know so many twenty-somethings having so much trouble being anything that they can't choose something!

With the possiblity of a woman president, the question of strengths arises for me. Would a woman be a good president? Maybe. But how differently will she handle the job then men have? At last Tuesdays debate Hilary spent valuable time complaining about having to answer the first question. Really, Hilary? Did that, in any way, further your quest to be President of the United States? It seems like you'll get a whole ton of questions once you're the Prez. Why would you even consider saying something that could be construed as whining when you're the first possible WOMAN president?

Washington Post published a piece on March 2 entitled Women vs. Women (We scream, We Swoon, How Dumb Can We Get?). In it Charlotte Allen sites women screaming "I love you Obama" while he's in mid-sentence, and other women actually fainting at Obama rallies. Allen asks if we are the weaker sex, "or even the stupider sex. Our brains permanently occluded by random emotions, psychosomatic flailings and distraction by the superficial."

Allen sites the popularity of Grey's Anatomy among women. (No offense if you're a fan. I used to find it entertaining too) She writes, "Want to be a surgeon? Here's what your life will be like at the hospital according to Grey's : sex in the linen-supply room, catfights with your sister in front of patients, sex in the on-call room, a 'prom' in the recovery room so you can wear your strapless evening gown to work, and sex with the married attending physician in an office. Oh, and some surgery."

My Grey's moment of truth was an episode when Christina was to marry ? (can't remember his name) I flipped on the TV to see her hyperventilating, pushing the wedding dress to the floor, saying, "get it off me, get it off me" I found that scene so pathetic, so offensive and repulsive that I turned it off and never watched again. Is that the way professional women think it's okay to be portrayed on TV? I know it's just a show, but, let's be honest - it makes intelligent women look as mature as their dress size.

It's scientific fact that men's and women's brains are different. In general men excel in visuospatial skills (math, abstract thinking, driving). Women usually have superior verbal skills (reading, writing, talking) My point? Maybe we should all try to be good at what we're good at - and not try to all be alike.

If women want to be taken seriously then maybe we should act grown-up (at least in public). I've had my fair share of pity parties, long cries and irrational emotions, but I've noticed I'm doing it less and less as I get older. (All it ever got me was a husband that looked like a deer in the headlights anyway.) Personally, I avoid the teacher's lounge at all costs. I can't stand all the bitching.

If a woman wants to be president she shouldn't complain about what comes with the territory. If you're an intelligent woman don't swoon over Obama. If you're raising a daughter, don't buy her Barbie dolls and tell her she's a princess, because she's not. And don't tell her she can do anything a man can do because maybe she'll spend her life trying to prove that when she'd be much better at and happier doing something else. Don't get me wrong - we're all completely capable - we're just not all the same. Feel free to disagree. It's just a thought.

Heart Consciousness

The Lakota mother teaches

her child she is related

to every living thing.

The squirrel is your brother,

the flowers are your sisters.

Experience draws us into

a kinship and bond

with our fellow humans,

our cousins and friends.

The connection is in the surviving.

The unity in the pain.

What I know now by heart

of being dead and then alive

brings me fully into the human race

and allows me more life than before.

Brought to each new awaking

is the fellowship in mere living,

the survival in being loved.

Blogging Clusterf**k

According to my "Daily Blog Tip" I should have a whole lot more people reading my blog by now or I'm doing something wrong. Apparently there are myriad ways to promote your blog out there in cyberspace. And to think I have been proud as a peacock to just get the frickin' thing up and running. I thought I was a genius when I figured out how to get photos on it.

So I spend bewildering hours reading websites devoted to blogs and there's just one problem - I have no idea what they're talking about! It's like reading Martian. Here's an example:

1. Use an FTP client to download all the site files (the Wordpress folder)

2. Log on phpMyAdmin and select Wordpress database.

3. Click on Export and make sure that all the Wordpress tables are there.

4. On the "structure" section tick "Add Drop Tables". Add AUTO_INCREMENT" and "enclose table and field names with backquotes"

5. On the "Data" section leave all the boxes unticked.

6.Tick "Save as file" and download database (you can use compression if your database is big.)

There is not one thing on that list that I understand. Do you?

Tags, RSS/atom feeds, tick, ping, blogcarnivals, Alexa rating, social bookmarking, configure counter, wrench icon, javascript, clasic template, it goes on and on. . . . . . . .

I guess it's a miracle that I've been found by anyone without knowing all that.

If anyone out there has any advice I'm willing to learn.

Freefall

Fairies lacking restraint
in a freefall to earth.

Twinkling satellites

from a fissure in heaven;

the antithesis of their

arrival point on the planet.

A bohemian coterie,

a flotilla of fun,

sometimes slower than gravity allows

or circling in a 3/4 waltz.

They are the only pure white we know,

washing the world clean

perfectly silent in the journey.

She can't live without the snow

making music in her head,

a celestial painting.

Looking out the window

is a hobby now.

Nothing as beautiful
can be humanly created.

In a quiet afterthought

a tuft will be released from a branch

carried by the cold across her path

when heaven touches earth.

Affliction

Despite the title of this post - I will celebrate the day. Another snow day - another Winter Wonderland outside to revel in all day. Another day at my laptop - the place I feel so comfortable at these days.

Yesterday was a difficult day. I had to work until 9PM for conferences and did not see one parent. Sad. The roads were horrible coming home. You would think when your car is only a few years old, has good tires and sand bags in the back that it would stop when you pressed on the brakes - but I always feel like I'm the only one sliding into intersections and pumping the pedal and saying nasty words to my little Rav. It was harrowing.

But the worst part of the day was that, for unknown reasons, I could barely walk yesterday. My left hip was in so much pain that I had to hobble slowly through the halls. Embarrassing. If I'd just sprained my ankle, say - I could just say - I sprained my ankle. But when everyone asked what happened - uh- I don't know!!! The two cortisone injections rejected their role and betrayed me. It's too long of a story to tell. Back to the doctor today.

Somehow I am slowly realizing how this experience is changing me, and I have hope that I am learning something. I was reading some essays by the famous French writer Simone Weil. She wrote :

Affliction is an uprooting of life, a more or less attentuated equivalent of death, made irresistibly present to the soul by the attack or immediate apprehension of physical pain. . . and nothing else has the power to chain down our thoughts.

Affliction is something specific and impossible to compare with anything else, just as nothing can convey the idea of sound to the deaf and dumb. And, as for those who have themselves been mutilated by affliction, they are in no state to help anyone at all and are almost incapable of even wishing to do so. Thus, compassion for the afflicted in an impossiblity.

THAT'S what bothers me the most. The way pain causes you to be self-absorbed and unable to be of use to anyone. Yesterday when one of my students showed up at my door during my lunch crying and kicking the wall because someone took his lunch - I had to practically crawl up the stairs and down the long hallway to investigate the problem. I wasn't as interested in solving his pain as my own. I hate that.

Weil continues: Affliction causes God to be absent for a time, more absent than a dead man, more absent than light in the utter darkness of a cell.

I think she is describing depression here and I would agree. Depression to me felt like God had abandoned me. However, I am recognizing how pain can easily lead to depression.

Affliction hardens and discourages because, like a red-hot iron, it stamps the soul to its very depths with the contempt, the disgust, and even the self-hatred and sense of guilt and defilement which crime logically should produce but actually does not.

The people you love and live with get to suffer too. As much as I try not to whine and cry, my husband has commented on my tendancy to be in bad moods these past few months. I want to say "Duh!" But then again, it seems unfair that he should have to suffer along with me. Being a man, he wants to fix it, but even the four doctors I've been to can't seem to do that - yet.

I wrote this before I read Weil, but we seem to concur:

Affliction

Pain

physical, bodily pain

grinds your spirit

scarifies your soul

harasses your plans

hounds your brain

vexes your senses.

Pain

give me morphine

give me oxycontin

give me knowledge

walking, moving

spread out my limbs

give me my life again.

Pain

give me doctor

without a damned perscription

an expert on a real body

look at me, move my parts

discover my affliction

take my insurance.

Pain

make me understand

what it's for

the reason I have this human

fallible, fragile body

what can I learn

from pain?

The Rat

This is a poem about a (financially) poor single mother - me.
It brings it all back.

The animal creeping through the darkened
dining room was bigger than a mouse.

I was sitting in the dim light of a single lamp one room away
children's voices floated from the drafty upstairs bedrooms,

cold air wafted through open crevices and thresholds
as news of the Gulf War babbled from the TV screen.

It came from beneath the window seat, a hole
in the rotten floorboards by the radiator

through the pitiful damaged latticework
that was meant to hide the rust and peeling paint.

As my head turned toward the unexpected motion
my heart said mouse, but my mind knew.

Stealthily it slithered to the remnant bird seeds
under the cage on the floor of the adjacent room.

The next night
up through the hole by the cellar laundry tub drain

a trap, a loud snap
the children and I went down to look.

COEXIST V - Ideas on Faith

No matter what life throws my way I always see it through the eyes of my faith. I want to understand the bigger picture, the reason. I'm always asking God WHY, WHY, WHY? Then I wonder if asking WHY is the antithesis of faith. I am addicted to WHY, but like an alcoholic I must accept what I cannot understand or change. I do believe that I am not supposed to know everything. If I did, I guess I would be God! Albert Einstein said, The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious. It is the source of all true art and all science. He to whom this emotion is a stranger, who can no longer pause to wonder and stand rapt in awe, is as good as dead; his eyes are closed.

I get carried away with the meaning of everything that happens instead of just accepting that life is sometimes frustrating and random. It would be arrogant to suggest that I could figure it all out. The tragedies of the world, the unnecesary suffering, the innocent children I see everyday already scarred by the life they've been given - there is no explanation except that God gave the world and His children free will. And we've screwed it up royally.

This is an excerpt from a Time Magazine article entitled: My Problem with Christianism by Andrew Sullivan. It begins with: Are you a Christian who doesn't feel represented by the religious right? (Yes, I most definitely am.)

And there are those who simply believe that, by defintion, God is unknowable to our limited, fallible human minds and soul. If God is ultimately unknowable, then how can we be so certain of what God's real position is on say, the fate of Terri Schiavo? Or the morality of contraception? Or the role of women? Or the love of a gay couple? Also, faith, for many of us is interwoven with doubt, a doubt that can strengthen faith and give it perspective and shadow. That doubt means having great humility in the face of God and an enormous reluctance to impose one's beliefs, through civil law, on anyone else.

BINGO! I leave all the judging and decisions in God's capable hands. I've turned into a sort of "I'm OK, You're OK" person and if you're not, it's not up to me to decide that. To me, that is the meaning of COEXIST.

Sullivan goes on to say : As a Christian, I dissent from the political pollution of sincere, personal faith. I dissent most strongly from the attempt to argue that one party represents God and that the other doesn't. I dissent from having my faith co-opted and wielded by people whose politics I do not share and whose intolerance I abhor. The word Christian belongs to no political party. It's time the quiet majority of believers took it back.

AMEN!

Faith is not knowing it all, not understanding it all, not judging those whose shoes we have not walked in. Let go and let God.

Three Crosses

Three crosses
like three Valentines on the hill
flourishing on a green stage
reminding

fifty miles farther
into the Virginias, three crosses
like three birds on a branch
gazing down, singing

thirty miles towards Ohio, three crosses
like three grace notes
in the symphony of sheltering trees
calling

a small white wooden cross
plastic flowers, a name and a date
steps from the highway
buckle up

a palm frond cross
hangs from the mirror
my hand floats to my throat, a silver cross
saving me from myself

Happy Birthday Dad

Tomorrow is my dad's 85th birthday. My dad is the kind of dad that makes all those birthday card verses true. I can't imagine having a more loving, kind and great man for a dad. My dad was the kind of dad that got in the kiddie pool with us and let us pour water on his head. He took us on vacations all over the country and, even after spending many hours in the car with three kids, he'd go miles out of his way to find a motel with a pool and a diving board. All my friends loved my dad. He makes everyone laugh. He finds humor in almost everything. We'd play practical jokes on him all the time because we knew he' d laugh and never get mad. (Like when we wrapped 68 golf tees individually for his birthday - hey, we were kids.) I could write the longest blog post in history about what a wonderful man he is and has always been, but you get the picture.

The school building I work in is one that my father went to as a child. The first day I walked into the building 14 years ago I saw an old photo on the wall of the office. I pointed and said - that's my dad! It was a photo of him sitting in the front row of his class. The secretary at the time said - oh, that's nice - and who are you? Anyway, the photo is still there. Dad is in the right front seat. Roxboro Elementary School is now 88 years old. Sometimes I'm walking down the halls of Roxboro and I try to imagine him walking the same halls all those years ago.

Happy Birthday, Dad. You're always with me.

My Book Shelf

Okay, sorry about the weird poem yesterday. I just love words and I collect them on a regular basis. I have notepads and notebooks full of words. The Merriam-Webster Word of the Day is something you can get emailed to you daily. Mostly they are words that are unusable because no one knows what they mean, so I wrote a poem with them, just to make them worthwhile. To be honest, I can't remember what half of them mean now.

I love words and books. Check out my Shelfari book shelf on this blog. I'm going to try to keep it fresh. I've put on some old favorites and some books I've recently read. If you have any good books to recommend please let me know. If you put the cursor on the book you can get my very brief but insightful little review. Happy reading!

Merriam Webster's Word-of-the-Day Poem

I will not use a weasel word or truckle to common phrases.
It is untenable to think of the miasma
of grandiloquence in the English language.
A plenitude of fungible, sometimes jerkwater words.

Do you find me erudite? Supercilious? Or just soporific?
Please do not besmirch me,
but be lenitive with my poem of folderol.
I hope this does not rankle you or cause williwaw.
I am only displaying a protean deliquesce.

You scaramouch you! Do not jape at me
or extirpate my nomenclature!
I am only attempting to be apodictic, can't you see that?
Alas, I am a gadfly, a bodacious, syncategorematic kith,
an infranglible, toady poet who enjoys a languer of language.

Do not view this as an opprobrium, but a benison.
I have only salubrious intentions and do not mean to rankle
or appear intranspicious. I am, after all, sagacious.

This and That

Yesterday there was a very strange and unfamiliar light in the sky around Cleveland. It was eerie (not Erie). It seemed like something we remembered from long ago. At some point on the way to work I remembered - it was the sun. God gave us a Valentine. It showed up again this afternoon. Wow! Maybe we can still believe in spring.

Regarding my pain and whining - I went to a rhematologist. She gave me a long and deep injection of cortisone in each hip. I have had the shots once before so this is a last ditch effort - but I feel very hopeful. The last two days I have been hobbling around like the Tim Conway character on Carol Burnett - going oh so slow from the injection stiffness and soreness. But I'm so happy because it is a different kind of pain. I have a feeling some praying has been going on out there. Thank you.

Okay, be forewarned - a little rant is coming:

I despise the way actors and musicians are constantly awarding themselves for something they already get fame and money from. The myriad of award shows is laughable. That being said - sometimes I watch them for the fashion show and if it's the Grammy's I'm hoping to actually see a talented musician chosen to perform. This year's Grammy show did have two highlights for me. One was Gershwin's Rhapsody in Blue - one of my favorite pieces of music ever - total class. The other was when Vince Gill accepted his award. A few awards ahead of him Kanye West got a Grammy. He got up and said something to the effect of - I deserve this because I'm the greatest artist there is. He went on and on in the same vein - and then when the music began to play he said it would be in bad taste for THEM to interrupt him. It was truly revolting.

So then Ringo Starr gives Vince Gill his Grammy. Vince says "Wow - I just got an award from a Beatle!" Then he smiled sweetly - looked out in the audience to Kanye and said, "Kanye , has that happened to you yet?" It was a great moment.

Love

Words from The Road Less Traveled by Scott Peck:

Genuine love not only respects the individuality of the other but actually seeks to cultivate it, even at the risk of separation or loss. The ultimate goal of life remains the spiritual growth of the individual, the solitary journey to peaks that can only be climbed alone. Significant journeys cannot be accomplished without the nurture provided by a successful marriage or a successful society. Marriage and society exist for the basic purpose of nurturing such individual journeys.

But let there be spaces in your togetherness,

and let the winds of the heavens dance between you.

Love one another, but make not a bond of love:

Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls.

Fill each other's cup but drink not from one cup.

Give one another of your bread but not eat from the same loaf.

Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let

each one of you be alone, even as the strings of a lute

are alone though they quiver with the same music.

Give your hearts, but not into each other's keeping.

For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts.

And stand together yet not too near together:

For the pillars of the temple stand apart,

and the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other's shadow.

Khalil Gibran

A Beautiful Moment, A Beautiful Family

I have an amazing and loving extended family - a whole slew of first and second cousins, most were originally from Pennsylvania and now spread out all over many states. Our parents were siblings and all of that generation is gone except for my mom and dad and my Uncle Dick. This weekend we all went to PA to celebrate his 90th birthday. Uncle Dick has Alzheimer's and is in a lovely assisted living center.

On this particular day he sat quietly at a card table and did not seem to notice the din of voices around him until someone would enter his viewing range. Then he would smile and say he was glad to see you. My cousin says "he knows we belong to him ."

My Uncle Dick has always been one of the happiest, most positive people I've ever known. He raised six children and entertained us all with music - from the piano, to the trumpet, to enthusiastic singing. One of our favorite memories as children was spending New Year's Eve at our cousin's house and hearing Uncle Dick play Auld Lang Syne on the trumpet on the front porch at midnight. The neighbors would all come out to hear it.

The party was lively and noisy as all of us cousins, our families, and some of Dick's friends enjoyed conversing around him. At certain moments during the afternoon I would watch my cousins lovingly care for his needs and attend to him with such dignity and grace.

In the midst of loud conversations and laughter two voices broke through. A man was kneeling next to my uncle with his arm around him. They were singing "I've Been Working on the Railroad" in perfect two-part harmony. Everyone stopped in silence until the long (many versed) song was through. My cousin told me that's the only song he remembers all the way through. It was a beautiful moment.

Later I thought about the man kneeling next to my uncle and the sensitivity and respect he had displayed by reaching into my uncle's memory in the best possible way. It was an act of love I hope never to forget.

SNOW DAY!

Oh, the glorious phone call came last night. Earlier in the day I'd said to my husband, "We should really have a snow day tomorrow. "

He laughed in his I'm trying not to show how jealous I am that I didn't become a teacher laugh.

I said,"No really, I'm only thinking of the children - it's too cold!" More laughter - yeah right.

Early evening last night he shoved the phone at me frowning - "It's the superintendent." As I hung up the phone I did my happy dance.

There's very little snow here, but a whole lotta cold. Below zero wind chill. Too cold for the children. Really.

Whining and Pain

Today I am wondering why God made our bodies so complicated and fragile. I am not at church right now because I have a mysterious eye problem. My eyes are swollen and red and itchy for the third day. I look even older and more haggard than usual. I went to a family event yesterday and saw cousins I see only once a year. I wanted to say to everyone - I usually don't have these ginormous bags under my eyes ! But I didn't say anything.

I'm in a lot of leg-hip pain this week (and have been for the past year) My doctor had given me cortisone shots and they didn't work. He said - there's no room for pride in medicine, and I'm just going to tell you I don't know what's wrong. He's sending me to a rhematologist. I thanked him for his honesty. It was refreshing not have another useless perscription thrown at me. I will keep this doctor.

A few years ago I had back pain that continued to worsen. I was given a number of drugs and I tried rest and home remedies with no relief. I finally went to a physical therapist. He sat me on a table, had me stretch my legs out in front of me and asked me to look at them. One was shorter than the other! He leaned me back, put his arms around my body and yanked. Presto! He'd put my dislocated pelvis back where it belonged. Most of the pain was gone immediately. The doctor I had been seeking help from at the time had never even touched me or looked at me - just given me perscriptions that never would have put my pelvis back in place. Why? How hard could that have been? I struggled unnecessarily for months.

I haven't been able to do my yoga or put in my 1-2 miles of walking a day for almost 4 months and I feel like I'm in the wrong body. I'm somewhat depressed and completely lacking energy, and yet I know I have so much to be thankful for. I know that others are in much more pain and suffering than I am. It's a spiritual struggle every day between being thankful because I can carry on, I can walk (it just hurts) and having a pity party for myself because I can't do everythingI want to do right now.

I'm supposed to believe in miracles and that God can do anything, but I know He won't zap me with healing for my myriad of ailments (there are a few more). That's not the way He works. I live in the real world and in a human, fallible, vulnerable body. He'll help me get through the day, maybe guide me to the right physicians, teach me tolerance and compassion for those that suffer more than me. Maybe I'll learn to stop feeling sorry for myself or something else good will come of it. I don't know. Maybe somewhere in the blogosphere someone will read this and know the answer and we'll become life-long friends. Thanks for reading.