It just dawned on me recently that I have seldom had conventional living conditions. It seems there's some odd governing principle directing me to live in non-traditional settings...
Sure, as a kid, things were stable. I shared a room with my brother until we were teens, then we each had our own space. I lived in the same house throughout my entire childhood.
Then, when I went to college, I had roomies every year in a dorm. It worked out fine enough, and most of the folks I roomed with remained my roomie for more than a year. None of the former roomies is on my do-not-call list. (In fact, I should look them up!)
Late in college, when I moved off campus, it would have seemed a good time to get a conventional apartment. I did not. Instead, we shared the upper and lower levels of a nice duplex--took the door off that separated the two "housing units" and shared everything from bills to bagels. I continued the fine tradition of rooming with others up until the day I got married.
Then things seemed pretty standard, other than 3 moves in 4 years. We even had a year that was very conventional on our farm with our little growing family. Now we have incorporated multiple generations with my wife's parents (and sister) altogether with my 4 kids, my wife and myself. That's not very common in the USA today, but it is not really non-traditional.
In fact, I think it's more traditional than the insular, moving-off-on-our-own trend that is the status quo around here. It makes more sense economically. It works wonderfully for our kids to grow up in the close influence of their grandparents. We all help each other out with projects, chores, sometimes just swapping ideas in ways one could not if they did not share the same rooftop.
It can be trying for anyone, even man and wife, to share quarters. It would be a lie to deny that there are moments of tension. I can say, with all honesty, that I will always treasure these days we are sharing, that I know they are fleeting. I may take some of our time together for granted, writing it off to the work-a-day world, but I know that even mundane dinner conversation is much richer for the lives we share, the lies we swap, the tales we tell...and I would not have it any other way.
I hope that I don't rub anyone wrong too much around there. My metaphor is good, for as we rub each other wrong, we create sparks and heat...and that warm feeling? it's what we know as family!
Monday, November 30, 2009
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Cardboard Furniture
I used to hang out with architects in college, and I had a passion for interior design ideas using found materials (recycling). The best of the best came out of a competition using cardboard. I toyed with cardboard some, but never have yet found the time to do much with it (but I do, of course, have ideas).
The best cardboard I've found yet is packing material around desks. Whenever a company gets new office furniture, I want to be there. The cardboard is about 1 inch thick and in a panel about 3ft x 6ft. If it could be indoors, I think it would be great building material. It's thick, durable, and best of all: FREE.
Blow me down!
Wind energy really does seem to have potential, especially here in Kansas (and ESPECIALLY where I'm from, SW Kansas!). Free energy just coursing by...and drawing on it has no bearing on it, so it is truly renewable.
I know the current way we generate energy from the wind is a bit less than well-received. Environmentalists worry about bird migration and bats suffocating and the general dominance of big wind farm turbines on the landscape. None of that is to be discounted.
Personally, I like the wind farms; they look like something from a sci-fi novel. That's probably why my dad liked the look of them too...that, and he was seeing dollar signs. Farmers get something like $2,000 per turbine on their land per year, at least that was the going rate 7 years ago.
Still, cool sci-fi looking turbines aside, I think we're not thinking this through well. I mean by the time you build, transport, assemble...then operate these giant things--c'mon. It's like putting a V8 on a skateboard. The generator housing atop these turbines is bigger than a full-sized passenger van! The blades are over 30 feet long!
I think that we need a better turbine, if we insist on wind-to-electric energy. Like the satellite dish, I think we need to go smaller. A thousand little propellers would be nicer to look at than 100 giant windmills. If you could wear a beanie with a propeller like this, and it could power your onboard electrically heated jacket in the winter, your iPod, smartphone, laptop, etc...that would be great!
The energy of ocean tides is harnessed, again convert it to electricity. Maybe all these Kansas wheat fields waving could likewise somehow be captured. All that back and forth has to generate static electricity. Maybe we can just run some kind of filament grid over a field and suck up some of that power?
Maybe we need to return to the original harnessing of wind energy and skip over electricity altogether. We could use windmills to turn:
- flour mills
- water pumps
- saw mills
- forges
- treadmills
- ceiling fans
- record turntables
...and doubtless, lots of other things.
I visited a bar that had belts and pulleys all over the ceiling operating the ceiling fans from one power source, an elaborate-looking Rube Goldberg affair that had me spellbound (and I wasn't drinking, either). I think it should be a staple in every home to have such a power transference mechanism like this to move the spinning of the windmill to the various speeds needed throughout a home. It would be cool.
Saturday, November 28, 2009
Invention Tradition
Here's a mansion my brother and I built when we were kids. Back then, this was All-That and a bag of chips. It was before Legos got too carried away with specialty pieces, but you can see windows, flag pole, etc. that were pretty custom for the time (197o's). It was how we spent a lot of Saturday mornings, as I recall...
On Saturdays, my boys and I make up cool inventions. Here's a list of past ones:
- Pretty gun-makes anyone more attractive
- Kyle/Olivia cow invention--makes them into cows, makes cows for them
- Yes-in-ator--makes anyone more agreeable
- Robotic Toybox 3000--automatically picks up toys (not safe for children under 3)
- No helmet--reacts against yes-in-ator, generally negates everything
- Lightbulb that changes itself
- Duck shooter--great practice weapon with projected targets
- Costume maker--you think it up, it makes them all
- Auto-dog groomer--throw in the pooch and he comes out polished
- Age locker--stay eternally whatever age you are
- Time travel remote (like on Click)
It's a good exercise in creativity, and it's lots of fun. We discovered today that we have to start writing these down! (It was hard to even recall this list, and we've made up hundreds of things.)
Friday, November 27, 2009
Thanksgiving (buuuuuuuurp) Tradition(s)
Traditions....
We don't have many for Thanksgiving, except for pigging out. I think we should have more. My wife proposed a good one, spending the month of November writing down things to be thankful for and posting them on leaves (presumably fall colored paper leaves). That's a good start.
I think, perhaps, it might be a good time to remember the dead.
Of course I know we already have Memorial Day, Day of the Dead, All Saint's Day...but more personally for me, this holiday might be the only time to help my kids get to know my dearly departed dad. Their other papa. The dead one. (This picture, circa 1975, when he would have been 33 years old.)
It would be easy enough, for the next few years, to roll out an anecdote and related photos; for one thing, it would help me remember him and to record said memories. For another, unless I formalize this, I think he will evaporate to them, like so many mythological (and old cartoon) characters, dead pets, forgotten punchlines...
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Juicy Job
What is the juice of my job?
....they'd never read a book before this one...they'd never read a poem and "got it" before...they'd never written anything so long as 1,000 words...they'd never been able to keep a diary/journal...they'd never enjoyed an English course...they'd never been forced to work so hard and end up happy for it...
When I have a moment:
...that students report they finally understood something hard...that I find a new/better way to deliver the goods...that an experimental classroom activity soars...that a parent encourages their kid to enroll in my class next term...that a student tells me he's encouraging his mom or dad to enroll in my class...when I realize I have had a family series of 4 siblings over the years all choose my class...when a colleague asks to sit in to see how things are happening...that I'm asked to help with a learning styles workshop at inservice...When I see grades at the end of the term that exceed my expectations, and I can rest easy knowing they truly are not inflated, that they really are earned by my "survivors..."
I guess, for me, it comes down to impact. I am sure that in the five years I taught English at the University I did fine, they learned some, it was all good...but that was 20 years ago and not a fair comparison to today. In fact, 10 years ago, when I was obsessed with work and myself, I was not the teacher I am today, and I did not enjoy my job as I do now. I did not always read over journals and class evaluations to notice incremental improvements in student work, behavior and (this is the biggie) a student's self-esteem.
That's just it. I went through it. They're going through it. I can help without getting all up in their business. I can empathize and do what I can to ensure learning takes place, even on the rocky shores of the life of a drop out, a third attempt, a busy single-mom-fighting-to-keep-custody-and-sanity. I really like hearing from my students years later, seeing how they have prospered, knowing (even in the very smallest of ways) I was involved. I helped that individual find a toe-hold of self-expression or self-esteem that was a (even tiny) factor in them becoming who they are.
Some students are not so needy, have a good head on their shoulders, know their future, just clock the time because they have to in order to go to (fill in the blank U). At the time they are in my class, they typically sigh a lot. Sometimes, in spite of themselves, they learn a little, too. Later, after they go on to the hallowed institution of their dreams, I often hear back from them, saying they wish I was there to teach them some advanced course in whatever. They appreciate the hands-on, down-n-dirty, applied, engaged, amused approach I take. I affected them and they realized it.
So the juice is impact, and that is a factor of learning, sure, but also a positive impact on their esteem. Whenever I take the time like this to realize what I am engaged in, in spite of the papers I whine about grading, I sometimes realize that this is a great occupation, one that's so great I am surprised I get paid for it! I should be paying the school for the privilege of teaching these fine people they call my students.
It's not the paycheck! (image from Tack'0'rama)
....they'd never read a book before this one...they'd never read a poem and "got it" before...they'd never written anything so long as 1,000 words...they'd never been able to keep a diary/journal...they'd never enjoyed an English course...they'd never been forced to work so hard and end up happy for it...
When I have a moment:
...that students report they finally understood something hard...that I find a new/better way to deliver the goods...that an experimental classroom activity soars...that a parent encourages their kid to enroll in my class next term...that a student tells me he's encouraging his mom or dad to enroll in my class...when I realize I have had a family series of 4 siblings over the years all choose my class...when a colleague asks to sit in to see how things are happening...that I'm asked to help with a learning styles workshop at inservice...When I see grades at the end of the term that exceed my expectations, and I can rest easy knowing they truly are not inflated, that they really are earned by my "survivors..."
I guess, for me, it comes down to impact. I am sure that in the five years I taught English at the University I did fine, they learned some, it was all good...but that was 20 years ago and not a fair comparison to today. In fact, 10 years ago, when I was obsessed with work and myself, I was not the teacher I am today, and I did not enjoy my job as I do now. I did not always read over journals and class evaluations to notice incremental improvements in student work, behavior and (this is the biggie) a student's self-esteem.
That's just it. I went through it. They're going through it. I can help without getting all up in their business. I can empathize and do what I can to ensure learning takes place, even on the rocky shores of the life of a drop out, a third attempt, a busy single-mom-fighting-to-keep-custody-and-sanity. I really like hearing from my students years later, seeing how they have prospered, knowing (even in the very smallest of ways) I was involved. I helped that individual find a toe-hold of self-expression or self-esteem that was a (even tiny) factor in them becoming who they are.
Some students are not so needy, have a good head on their shoulders, know their future, just clock the time because they have to in order to go to (fill in the blank U). At the time they are in my class, they typically sigh a lot. Sometimes, in spite of themselves, they learn a little, too. Later, after they go on to the hallowed institution of their dreams, I often hear back from them, saying they wish I was there to teach them some advanced course in whatever. They appreciate the hands-on, down-n-dirty, applied, engaged, amused approach I take. I affected them and they realized it.
So the juice is impact, and that is a factor of learning, sure, but also a positive impact on their esteem. Whenever I take the time like this to realize what I am engaged in, in spite of the papers I whine about grading, I sometimes realize that this is a great occupation, one that's so great I am surprised I get paid for it! I should be paying the school for the privilege of teaching these fine people they call my students.
Monday, November 23, 2009
You are what you...
Intake?
I had an interesting discussion with a peer the other day who introduced what she said was an Asian theological belief/practice that essentially claims: don't take it in if it's forbidden. (I am not doing it justice, so I will elaborate.)
That is to say, as per her interpretation, if it's not good for you, ie forbidden (by you, not by some rule or legislation), then don't watch it. This was part of a discussion of extremely disturbing films (like the Saw series and that Nicholas Cage snuff porn movie). The same would hold true of bad music, the kind that chants or raps things you would never engage in but nonetheless absorb through music, perhaps.
The thinking is that whatever you are exposed to becomes part of you. Somewhere in your subconscious mind you are unable to discern truth from image, reality from (even the most loose interpretation of) art. Even if you do know it's not actually been said/done, it's a level of depravity and sinister glup you don't want in your head.
Hmmm...I don't know what to think about that.
The conversation went on to uphold the lifestyle and media of the pre-industrial revolution era. Then, of course, it was more work to intake anything artistic. One had to read, and at night, by candlelight. One had no radio, television, movie theatre, Internet... If you wanted bawdy, you had to travel to the red light district or a circus, I suppose. If you wanted violence, you had to pick it yourself or watch a barroom brawl. People were assumed to be, in general populations, more pure of mind and heart. One rationale for that assumption was: lack of exposure.
If this maxim is truth, then my kids are doomed. They have, in their young years, seen more violence and stupidity than I have in a life 7x as long as theirs. If it is truth, then I must be spoiled in all manner of writing, due to the poor writing I've graded over 20 years. I must not really know beautiful scenery since I spent too much time in western Kansas. (I know, I'm kidding. I'm stretching this exposure = evil thing too far.)
Regardless, it is an engaging thought. Are we so simple, underneath it all, that we really do not discern at some level? Does that make us numb to wrong, to pain, to the despicable things we've witnessed in movies and art? I hope to revisit this again some time and continue the thought process.
I had an interesting discussion with a peer the other day who introduced what she said was an Asian theological belief/practice that essentially claims: don't take it in if it's forbidden. (I am not doing it justice, so I will elaborate.)
That is to say, as per her interpretation, if it's not good for you, ie forbidden (by you, not by some rule or legislation), then don't watch it. This was part of a discussion of extremely disturbing films (like the Saw series and that Nicholas Cage snuff porn movie). The same would hold true of bad music, the kind that chants or raps things you would never engage in but nonetheless absorb through music, perhaps.
The thinking is that whatever you are exposed to becomes part of you. Somewhere in your subconscious mind you are unable to discern truth from image, reality from (even the most loose interpretation of) art. Even if you do know it's not actually been said/done, it's a level of depravity and sinister glup you don't want in your head.
Hmmm...I don't know what to think about that.
The conversation went on to uphold the lifestyle and media of the pre-industrial revolution era. Then, of course, it was more work to intake anything artistic. One had to read, and at night, by candlelight. One had no radio, television, movie theatre, Internet... If you wanted bawdy, you had to travel to the red light district or a circus, I suppose. If you wanted violence, you had to pick it yourself or watch a barroom brawl. People were assumed to be, in general populations, more pure of mind and heart. One rationale for that assumption was: lack of exposure.
If this maxim is truth, then my kids are doomed. They have, in their young years, seen more violence and stupidity than I have in a life 7x as long as theirs. If it is truth, then I must be spoiled in all manner of writing, due to the poor writing I've graded over 20 years. I must not really know beautiful scenery since I spent too much time in western Kansas. (I know, I'm kidding. I'm stretching this exposure = evil thing too far.)
Regardless, it is an engaging thought. Are we so simple, underneath it all, that we really do not discern at some level? Does that make us numb to wrong, to pain, to the despicable things we've witnessed in movies and art? I hope to revisit this again some time and continue the thought process.
Friday, November 20, 2009
Greendale Community College
Check out this link to THE community college, Greendale Community College, where, "You're already accepted."
Dan Harmon is the man behind the great NBC series, Community. In the video above, he's hamming it up (as the college president) promoting Greendale, the setting for the series. Watching these promotional videos of the 5 "A's" really cracks me up, for these little clips are so much like promotional stuff I've seen for real colleges, even some I've worked for!
Even though the clips are satirical, they do still have a charm about them that makes me happy I'm working at this level. I really like community college instruction, the atmosphere, the student body. The emphasis is on students and teaching, not research or being all high and mighty. I know there's a lot of ribbing about Juco's being pud, but I can deal with it. Underneath it all, I like it here for I can measure the impact I might be having. At 4yr schools, it seems ever-so-much-more like a paper mill, for students are herded through with even less regard to them being engaged, learning anything.
I'll have to write more on this, sometime when I have time. The downside of working at this level is the LOAD, for I'm teaching more than twice what my peers at the 4yr do. Alas.
For now, I'll just confess that though I do not like TV, do not like sitcoms, and thought I'd be offended by a spoof of the community college--I really like this little show! I'll write a full review of it, sometime after I've watched more of it.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
I am a family man.
"Family Man" from Trevor Little on Vimeo.
Song by Andrew Peterson
Video produced by Canyon Ridge Christian Church
Monday, November 16, 2009
What the future holds...
I don't have the numbers in front of me, but I can refer one to this and this for perspective. Everything is changing, rapidly. It amazes me that I can still find people who knew life before cars were commonplace. Imagine the changes in one lifetime, from no radio to the Internet, wireless! I, for one, really like central heat and air. I depend on my electricity 24/7. Though I hate trips to the dentist, I much-appreciate his latest technological advances that (presumably) reduce my pain as he toils away.
All that said, I have learned to question anything that seems to promise too much. If we work under the assumption that technology is good for us, that progress is paradise, then maybe we should be putting more of our resources and attention into progressing. If it's true that we have such a bright future, why waste time watching movies and football--billion dollar investments, let alone the actual time invested--and put all our chips on microchips? Let's get with the advancing, already!
Alan Lightman, professor of science and writing, and a senior lecturer in physics, at MIT, also the author of Einstein's Dreams and Good Benito noted ( in an article published over ten years ago. ) this:
"1939 World's Fair, in New York, one could read the following in the promotional literature of the futuristic General Motors exhibit: 'Since the beginning of civilization, transportation and communication have been keys to Man's progress, his prosperity, his happiness.'
He notes that in that one phrase we mixed up just what happiness was to be--and what a prediction that has been! The problem is, are we buying into hype? Are we creating our new version of happiness on this premise that it is bound to progress, and that progress is interpreted as technological advance?
This leads us, sometimes, to have a knee jerk reaction to new technology. As it rolls out, we tend to immediately adopt it. (About the only arena this is retarded by caution is in medical advances, and think of the grousing and complaining about how slowly we release new pharma-wonders!)
"New" is the new "sexy."
Some of this is our culture's sheer consumerism, the insatiable appetite to buy. "I want it all, and I want it now." That is fueled by advertising. It's all fueled by greed. Now I'm ranting again.
The point is, where will all this go?
I've read enough and thought enough to imagine a future where thinking things makes them happen...that is, instead of twiddling our fingers on keyboards to make symbols appear, it would be much more smooth (and not far from possible, even now) to think words into being, to communicate by thinking it out. I am not even yet talking about telepathy. A wetware interface, a bio-computer that lives on your desk or your person...or one that is part of your person...is not far away, and it will out-compute even the fastest Crays we have these-days.
Isn't that cool? A bio-digital gizmo that's low maintenance, that needs no external power, that's as portable as you are because it is incorporated into your corporeal being! Blazing fast! Unlimited storage? We got it coming. We've already been engineering ways to store data on DNA components.
I can see technology sweeping past the written word very soon. Even today, kids use txt msgs to eclipse traditional spelling and communication standards we adopted at the advent of the printing press. Is that a bad thing? Spare yourself the tedium of writing it down, the embarrasment of wording or spelling it incorrectly.
I would venture that sometimes speed and ease are not our allies. Sometimes, at least I have found this to be true, it is fruitful to toil. It is worth it to invest twelve hours in the reading of a novel rather than two in watching an interpretation of it blow by on screen. Sometimes it means more to share a letter with someone (okay, even an email) instead of a voicemail or a qk txt. A real relationship with a warm hug has some potency that no friending on Facebook ever will.
I wonder if we will reach a peak and then react. I wonder if there will be a day in which we bail out of all this wonderment of technology. Like so many doomsayers, I wonder, too, if we will come to this point before the technology has the better of us, as in dystopias like Matrix, Surrogates, Wall-E, 9...
All that said, I have learned to question anything that seems to promise too much. If we work under the assumption that technology is good for us, that progress is paradise, then maybe we should be putting more of our resources and attention into progressing. If it's true that we have such a bright future, why waste time watching movies and football--billion dollar investments, let alone the actual time invested--and put all our chips on microchips? Let's get with the advancing, already!
Alan Lightman, professor of science and writing, and a senior lecturer in physics, at MIT, also the author of Einstein's Dreams and Good Benito noted ( in an article published over ten years ago. ) this:
"1939 World's Fair, in New York, one could read the following in the promotional literature of the futuristic General Motors exhibit: 'Since the beginning of civilization, transportation and communication have been keys to Man's progress, his prosperity, his happiness.'
He notes that in that one phrase we mixed up just what happiness was to be--and what a prediction that has been! The problem is, are we buying into hype? Are we creating our new version of happiness on this premise that it is bound to progress, and that progress is interpreted as technological advance?
This leads us, sometimes, to have a knee jerk reaction to new technology. As it rolls out, we tend to immediately adopt it. (About the only arena this is retarded by caution is in medical advances, and think of the grousing and complaining about how slowly we release new pharma-wonders!)
"New" is the new "sexy."
Some of this is our culture's sheer consumerism, the insatiable appetite to buy. "I want it all, and I want it now." That is fueled by advertising. It's all fueled by greed. Now I'm ranting again.
The point is, where will all this go?
I've read enough and thought enough to imagine a future where thinking things makes them happen...that is, instead of twiddling our fingers on keyboards to make symbols appear, it would be much more smooth (and not far from possible, even now) to think words into being, to communicate by thinking it out. I am not even yet talking about telepathy. A wetware interface, a bio-computer that lives on your desk or your person...or one that is part of your person...is not far away, and it will out-compute even the fastest Crays we have these-days.
Isn't that cool? A bio-digital gizmo that's low maintenance, that needs no external power, that's as portable as you are because it is incorporated into your corporeal being! Blazing fast! Unlimited storage? We got it coming. We've already been engineering ways to store data on DNA components.
I can see technology sweeping past the written word very soon. Even today, kids use txt msgs to eclipse traditional spelling and communication standards we adopted at the advent of the printing press. Is that a bad thing? Spare yourself the tedium of writing it down, the embarrasment of wording or spelling it incorrectly.
I would venture that sometimes speed and ease are not our allies. Sometimes, at least I have found this to be true, it is fruitful to toil. It is worth it to invest twelve hours in the reading of a novel rather than two in watching an interpretation of it blow by on screen. Sometimes it means more to share a letter with someone (okay, even an email) instead of a voicemail or a qk txt. A real relationship with a warm hug has some potency that no friending on Facebook ever will.
I wonder if we will reach a peak and then react. I wonder if there will be a day in which we bail out of all this wonderment of technology. Like so many doomsayers, I wonder, too, if we will come to this point before the technology has the better of us, as in dystopias like Matrix, Surrogates, Wall-E, 9...
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Doorbuster
Black Friday every Friday to Christmas--so the advertisement reads. Decorations for Christmas were rolled out in the big box stores in early SEPTEMBER and now abound in even the botiques. The hype around the holidays is out of control.
Doorbuster Sale
This weekend only!
Counting down the seconds
Anxious for
the ball to drop,
the shoe to drop.
Sprinkling coins in the temple
In the frontal lobe.
Lobbed into memory:
"Foist the sales"
Eagerly anticipating
Earnestly needing
Well up
Thunderhead
Sprinkling,
Doorbuster Sale
This weekend only!
Counting down the seconds
Anxious for
the ball to drop,
the shoe to drop.
Sprinkling coins in the temple
In the frontal lobe.
Lobbed into memory:
"Foist the sales"
Eagerly anticipating
Earnestly needing
Well up
Thunderhead
Sprinkling,
raining
down on me
drops
hail
hell.
down on me
drops
hail
hell.
Sales.
Monday, November 09, 2009
Parenting Pain
Yesterday, my son read his birthday card aloud.
Soon, he'll be making money, then he won't need me any more for anything. That's how it feels anyway. I cannot imagine what it feels like when your kid comes right out and says such things (but I'll prolly hear them, eventually.)
It's one thing to own something out-moded, or to feel out of fashion or to be simply a bit rusty on something. It's another to be of no use.
I remember a similar chilling observation when my eldest son began verbalizing his thoughts. He was coming into his own. He was a free thinker, not some meat puppet kid I could manipulate. He had some unique ideas all his own that I was astonished by. I do not know how something so simple as autonomy was so surprising to me. Maybe because I realized, at least in ways, I was the Creator of this autonomous being, and the beastie was coming to possess his own thoughts.
Now the boy is becoming a reader, soon to select his own reading interests--last night he wanted to read from the dictionary together, he is so hungry for knowledge and vocabulary. This is both impressive and enjoyable. For one thing, he likes to process each word he can read, then discuss it, associate it with what he knows, ask for examples--generally let it roll around in his mouth a while. That's so cool! I am also thrilled, for he chooses the dictionary of his own volition. I did not even tell him about it until he sounded out the word on the spine and asked me what a dictionary was. We have a common interest, like some dads have fishing or NASCAR, only ours is wordsmithing. Finally, he asks me to do this with him, to find our way through the dark and into the light of the Word, together. I consider this a high honor.
This entire discussion reminds me of a great poem (one of many struck from our Lit book), Gjertrud Schnackenberg's "Supernatural Love." Check it out, for it resonates with thoughts on vocabulary building, parenting, and God's love.
Soon, he'll be making money, then he won't need me any more for anything. That's how it feels anyway. I cannot imagine what it feels like when your kid comes right out and says such things (but I'll prolly hear them, eventually.)
It's one thing to own something out-moded, or to feel out of fashion or to be simply a bit rusty on something. It's another to be of no use.
I remember a similar chilling observation when my eldest son began verbalizing his thoughts. He was coming into his own. He was a free thinker, not some meat puppet kid I could manipulate. He had some unique ideas all his own that I was astonished by. I do not know how something so simple as autonomy was so surprising to me. Maybe because I realized, at least in ways, I was the Creator of this autonomous being, and the beastie was coming to possess his own thoughts.
Now the boy is becoming a reader, soon to select his own reading interests--last night he wanted to read from the dictionary together, he is so hungry for knowledge and vocabulary. This is both impressive and enjoyable. For one thing, he likes to process each word he can read, then discuss it, associate it with what he knows, ask for examples--generally let it roll around in his mouth a while. That's so cool! I am also thrilled, for he chooses the dictionary of his own volition. I did not even tell him about it until he sounded out the word on the spine and asked me what a dictionary was. We have a common interest, like some dads have fishing or NASCAR, only ours is wordsmithing. Finally, he asks me to do this with him, to find our way through the dark and into the light of the Word, together. I consider this a high honor.
This entire discussion reminds me of a great poem (one of many struck from our Lit book), Gjertrud Schnackenberg's "Supernatural Love." Check it out, for it resonates with thoughts on vocabulary building, parenting, and God's love.
Friday, November 06, 2009
I just want to celebrate!
...another day of living
I just want to celebrate
...another day of liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiifffffffffffffffffffe!
37 days until grades are due! That means I'll be free for almost a month. Too bad that's the coldest season and the longest stretch between paychecks, but I'm not complaining.
It's going to be 70 degrees today, and that's something to celebrate in itself. I love nice weather, especially when I can do something outside with the boys. (I did a to-do list recently, and whew! do I have things to do outside!)
My son turns 7 and we celebrate that this weekend. Woot Woot! He's growing into quite the little man. I can't say enough positive things about my boys with getting all sticky-sweet here.
1860 - Abraham Lincoln was elected to be the sixteenth president of the United States.
1861 - Jefferson Davis was elected as the first and last president of the Confederacy in the US.
1990 - Arsenio Hall gets a star on Hollywood's Walk of Fame
According to this site, November is:
National American Indian Heritage Month
Adoption Month
Good Nutrition Month
Peanut Butter Lover's Month
International Drum Month
National Alzheimer's Month
National Sleep Comfort Month
International Creative Child & Adult Month
Aviation History Month
Georgia Pecan Month
National Epilepsy Awareness Month
Real Jewelry Month
National Fragrance Month
Native American Heritage Month
International Impotence Education Month
Diabetes Awareness Month
Alzheimer's Disease Month
Drum Month
Epilepsy Awareness Month
Flu Awareness Month
Home Care Month
Marrow Awareness Month
Peanut Butter Lovers' Month
Sleep Comfort Month
Vegan Awareness Month
Child Safety and Protection Month
I just want to celebrate
...another day of liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiifffffffffffffffffffe!
(listen to snippet at Amazon, buy it)
37 days until grades are due! That means I'll be free for almost a month. Too bad that's the coldest season and the longest stretch between paychecks, but I'm not complaining.
It's going to be 70 degrees today, and that's something to celebrate in itself. I love nice weather, especially when I can do something outside with the boys. (I did a to-do list recently, and whew! do I have things to do outside!)
My son turns 7 and we celebrate that this weekend. Woot Woot! He's growing into quite the little man. I can't say enough positive things about my boys with getting all sticky-sweet here.
1860 - Abraham Lincoln was elected to be the sixteenth president of the United States.
1861 - Jefferson Davis was elected as the first and last president of the Confederacy in the US.
1990 - Arsenio Hall gets a star on Hollywood's Walk of Fame
According to this site, November is:
National American Indian Heritage Month
Adoption Month
Good Nutrition Month
Peanut Butter Lover's Month
International Drum Month
National Alzheimer's Month
National Sleep Comfort Month
International Creative Child & Adult Month
Aviation History Month
Georgia Pecan Month
National Epilepsy Awareness Month
Real Jewelry Month
National Fragrance Month
Native American Heritage Month
International Impotence Education Month
Diabetes Awareness Month
Alzheimer's Disease Month
Drum Month
Epilepsy Awareness Month
Flu Awareness Month
Home Care Month
Marrow Awareness Month
Peanut Butter Lovers' Month
Sleep Comfort Month
Vegan Awareness Month
Child Safety and Protection Month
Thursday, November 05, 2009
Discarding the Stuff that Dreams are made of...
Goodbye stuff.I just listed you on Craig'sList, FreeCycle, Hand-to-Hand...and soon they will descend upon you and pick you clean. By the time I get home, there will be nothing but a slab where you once huddled and prayed that last prayer, "Remember me!"
I won't forget you, picnic baskets that once held my creative writing in my little office in Ark City, you who were my sacred keeper of my current Works that no one else has ever read. You who served as end tables when I was in my wicker fad. You, who despite your frailties, worked hard during several moves, holding odds and ends swept from counter tops.
And you, dear old fake tree--how I marveled at finding you, at buying you back when at Hobby Lobby on clearance! How you adorned office and home for the better part of ten years. You who most lately have been festooned with Christmas lights, and who now waits some future owner to dust you off, light you up, right your trunk and basket with a little sand. How I will long for you when I see you standing so stoic in the background of so very many pictures, always there, ever-silent, ever watchful.
Alas, my long-time friend, my wife's body pillow, who offered her so much comfort when she was first pregnant. You, the quiet, almost life-size napping buddy of mine, now curled up in the pile and hoping for a new home. You who once served my beagle, when he would steal away and rest on you, hoping we would not see. I will miss your comforts, and I hope you find a loving home.
And you, dear old computer monitor--we shared thousands of hours of eye contact. You let me peer into the endless reaches of the Internet. You offered me relief when I tired of grading online papers by distracting me with zeFrank and Bored.com. I remember when you were young and fully-functional, how proud we were of you, how sexy you were, a black monitor! You offered the promise of a new life for us, a potential new career field of digital scrapbooking. You were our first best friend-computer, and we will be bff's always, even as you are hauled away as "junk."
Toys! Ohhhhh that you must be discarded is a pox upon all parents. How crass, how cold, how heartless we who damn you to be melted down or to spend eternity in a landfill, void of the playful attention of children, only to be pecked at by birds and cockroaches. I remember so many of you, and more--my kids will remember you. They will itemize their losses, and even if they do not vocalize it, they will harbor some hatred toward me for giving you away. It should not matter that you are old, so am I. It should be inconsequential that you are not in the best of shape, tattered around the edges--I am, too. What matter, that you are not all there--the same is said of me, regularly. You, dearest toys, are truly the matter of memories, the essence of joys innumerable, and you are now relegated at best to a less creative child who did not get you on Christmas morning or warm in their happy meal. You will, perhaps, be sentenced to the island of misfit toys. You could end up in the hands of an evil child like Sid. How could we do this to you, when you were perfectly content to wait, gathering dust, until my boys rediscovered you again, and then in some years, again. Some day, you might have been handed down to the children of my children, but no--you are being thrown to the curb.
Goodbye, my stuff. You have been sacrificed for Space.
Forgive me.
Wednesday, November 04, 2009
Cheap, cheap!
Someone told me I should do a seminar or write a book on how I get stuff so cheap. There's really no big trick to it, usually it's just being in the right place at the right time, being observant. I've had great luck with about every purchase, except vehicles. (Someday, I hope to find that gem of a car for fifty bucks!)
Meanwhile, my latest score was a unit (96 pieces, I learned) of deck wood which I purchased at 1/4 the retail value. It's brand new, super nice, and now waiting for me to get building! Source? Good o'l Craig's List. Unfortunately, though the deck is now no longer in financial limbo, it's in a waiting list behind other building projects I have backed up.
I'm bidding on a barn that someone needs torn down. If I net that, then I'll have the chance to recreate a 100 year old barn on my property, for virtually nothing! That would be a true marvel. (Wait until my family finds out about this one!)
I have reported here many times how much I gain from garage sales, too. I don't know if I will ever break this addiction to bargains. I would like this enthusiasm for the inexpensive to well up and overflow into the rest of my life (and more importantly, my entire household). Getting things on impulse is expensive; getting things by poking around is rewarding!
Meanwhile, my latest score was a unit (96 pieces, I learned) of deck wood which I purchased at 1/4 the retail value. It's brand new, super nice, and now waiting for me to get building! Source? Good o'l Craig's List. Unfortunately, though the deck is now no longer in financial limbo, it's in a waiting list behind other building projects I have backed up.
I'm bidding on a barn that someone needs torn down. If I net that, then I'll have the chance to recreate a 100 year old barn on my property, for virtually nothing! That would be a true marvel. (Wait until my family finds out about this one!)
I have reported here many times how much I gain from garage sales, too. I don't know if I will ever break this addiction to bargains. I would like this enthusiasm for the inexpensive to well up and overflow into the rest of my life (and more importantly, my entire household). Getting things on impulse is expensive; getting things by poking around is rewarding!
Tuesday, November 03, 2009
In the Wake
I've long been processing something I read/rumored about regeneration. A post on Snopes.com launched a great discussion of this, at length (snippets far below, food for thought). A good, thought-provoking take on Chopra's thinking spawned a good deal of thinking on my part, over the years.
Here's the skinny: since our cells regenerate, we are in some senses "new people" every few years as those old cells that make us up die and new ones take on their roles. That's just animal science. Of course, we are made up of more than the parts of our wholeness, but in the wake of my Uncle's departure, I find it somewhat comforting.
As I try to shake off the slime of mortuary science that jades my every funeral experience, I grapple here for something more positive.
What are we, really, but interactions, thoughts and memories we contain and make? "The Mark of a Man," yesterday's preacher's 'words of wisdom' have some bearing on this discussion. This suggests, of course, that we need to be engaged. We need to be out there making memories for ourselves and others, perhaps to even exist? I suppose one could be whole and not be anything to anyone but themselves. They would then contain a great number of memories. However, when they die, they are gone, by that reasoning. Only s/he who also makes memories for others lives after themselves among others.
Likewise, we are an assembly of convenient atoms. Yes, atomically we are reconfiguring all the time and composed of everyone and everything, but more than likely, if I don't travel much/far, then I am a rather homogeneous being compared to a world traveler. Take it down to something more easy to grasp: when you drive by a feedlot and smell that effluvia, you are literally engaged with particles of poo, these connecting with sensory receptors in your nose. However, if I never smell curry, or the sweat of an old woman sitting alongside the Nile, the flower of the rain forest, etc...then I am less a person than I could be, were I travelling far and wide.
There, I feel both better and worse now.
Snips from Snopes....
A lot of this talk goes back to an ancient logical conundrum that bedevils the concept of "identity." Imagine you have a wooden ship, the traditional paradox goes, and as you make your travels planks and ropes and such slowly wear out. As each small component becomes unfit it is replaced. Eventually, no original material remains, yet the ship has been in continuous use. Is it still the same ship?And to make things even more complicated, imagine someone has been following behind and collecting all the old pieces, eventually hammering them into a (supposedly terrible-looking) complete vessel. Is this then the original ship?
Hai!! Deepak Chopra has to be the biggest claptrap that has ever happenned to eastern religions. His theories are to Hinduism and Buddhism what ID is to Christianity. He tries to provide a scientific basis to things that are meant to be read as metaphors. He takes the spirituality, and wraps it in scientific sounding jargon interlaced with "facts" to make it sound authorativeIn this case, the "fact" is used to "prove" the Buddhist belief that the self is an illusion (which is derived from the Hindu belief that the world is an illusion). This concept is used to rationalize that attachment to self (or wordly objects) leads to sufferring, and true happiness/salvation/nirvana comes when you let go of attachment to things. How often your body regenerates itself, or whether parts of it does/does not regenerate is not important. The science behind it is not important. What is more important is the realization that your body isn't "you". Even if you could prove to me that my my neurons/teeth/that spot behind my ear that I never wash is never fully replaced, you haven't negated any of the Hindu/Buddhist philosophy.
Here's the skinny: since our cells regenerate, we are in some senses "new people" every few years as those old cells that make us up die and new ones take on their roles. That's just animal science. Of course, we are made up of more than the parts of our wholeness, but in the wake of my Uncle's departure, I find it somewhat comforting.
As I try to shake off the slime of mortuary science that jades my every funeral experience, I grapple here for something more positive.
What are we, really, but interactions, thoughts and memories we contain and make? "The Mark of a Man," yesterday's preacher's 'words of wisdom' have some bearing on this discussion. This suggests, of course, that we need to be engaged. We need to be out there making memories for ourselves and others, perhaps to even exist? I suppose one could be whole and not be anything to anyone but themselves. They would then contain a great number of memories. However, when they die, they are gone, by that reasoning. Only s/he who also makes memories for others lives after themselves among others.
Likewise, we are an assembly of convenient atoms. Yes, atomically we are reconfiguring all the time and composed of everyone and everything, but more than likely, if I don't travel much/far, then I am a rather homogeneous being compared to a world traveler. Take it down to something more easy to grasp: when you drive by a feedlot and smell that effluvia, you are literally engaged with particles of poo, these connecting with sensory receptors in your nose. However, if I never smell curry, or the sweat of an old woman sitting alongside the Nile, the flower of the rain forest, etc...then I am less a person than I could be, were I travelling far and wide.
There, I feel both better and worse now.
Snips from Snopes....
A lot of this talk goes back to an ancient logical conundrum that bedevils the concept of "identity." Imagine you have a wooden ship, the traditional paradox goes, and as you make your travels planks and ropes and such slowly wear out. As each small component becomes unfit it is replaced. Eventually, no original material remains, yet the ship has been in continuous use. Is it still the same ship?And to make things even more complicated, imagine someone has been following behind and collecting all the old pieces, eventually hammering them into a (supposedly terrible-looking) complete vessel. Is this then the original ship?
Hai!! Deepak Chopra has to be the biggest claptrap that has ever happenned to eastern religions. His theories are to Hinduism and Buddhism what ID is to Christianity. He tries to provide a scientific basis to things that are meant to be read as metaphors. He takes the spirituality, and wraps it in scientific sounding jargon interlaced with "facts" to make it sound authorativeIn this case, the "fact" is used to "prove" the Buddhist belief that the self is an illusion (which is derived from the Hindu belief that the world is an illusion). This concept is used to rationalize that attachment to self (or wordly objects) leads to sufferring, and true happiness/salvation/nirvana comes when you let go of attachment to things. How often your body regenerates itself, or whether parts of it does/does not regenerate is not important. The science behind it is not important. What is more important is the realization that your body isn't "you". Even if you could prove to me that my my neurons/teeth/that spot behind my ear that I never wash is never fully replaced, you haven't negated any of the Hindu/Buddhist philosophy.
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