Circus circumspect?

Yesterday our family went to the Carson and Barnes circus. I'd read up on what PETA and others claimed about circus animals, and I was a little leery...but one son and I went for the set up, talked to the crew, scouted the animals' conditions, etc...and to the untrained eye, things looked hunky-dorey.

At the show itself, I was amused at how performers were billed as being from Circus Circus or from some exotic and distant country--the same cats I'd seen erecting tents and such that morning, the same folk who two acts previously had been from another country and another famous venue. Talk about economic use of personnel!

Other than that Tom Foolery, I was also amused at the way the circus attempted to hawk their wares, practically forcing extra cash from patrons. We were steeled up against this, and had, in fact, forewarned our kids NOT to beg. We were approached, I would guess on average, every five minutes: popcorn, pop, candy, souvenirs, coloring books, peanuts...and that was only after we were seated. Coming into the show, at intermission, and after the show, we were tempted with games, elephant rides, and more food. We were tight-fisted, held strong, and thus had some coin left afterwards to eat out.

The kids (ages 2 months to 6 years) just loved the show. Even my non-spectator child (the d0-er) was astounded, mesmerized. The aerial acts were amazing, and the dancing girl, Francesca, remains a feature in my fond reflections. The kids, of course, loved the clowns most of all. It did not matter to the kids that the show was only one ring, when billed as three. They did not care about the repeat, shape-shifting performers. None of them complained about the painful seating or the fact that it was 110 in the tent. It slipped their attention that virtually everyone associated with the show was Hispanic, speaking Spanish, and a wee-bit lackadaisical.

They wanted hoops of fire, white tigers, and more sequins, but I promised them all that if we ever go to Vegas or a really big show. For now, for a first-time circus experience, they had a blast, I had fun vicariously, and it was well-worth the money.

I'd like to take them to Wyoming, to a Wild West Show or Cowboy Festival/Fair event of some sort. I know they'd swoon over something like that!

This circus brought back memories of the one I attended as a child, you know, back before everything was so politically correct. It was a very large circus, with 3-5 rings, at least a dozen clowns in full regalia, monkeys and tigers and even a bear (as I recall). I was in the bleachers, high above the whole thing. I believe it was in Garden City or Dodge City.

I don't remember a whole lot from the circus, but I will never forget the Midway (obviously a thing of the past now!) : fat lady, strong man, frog man (deformed, smoked with his toes, walked on his hands); things preserved in jars, creepy snakes and alligators; midgets, giants, and tattooed people (again, back when that was circus fare); exotic people from distant lands regaling us with stories and magic!

Yes, we had television, but we seldom encountered anything remotely like this live and in-person. We had the occasional deformed calf born on the farm, but we never had seen people from other countries, differently-abled people, etc. I suppose the exposure was not all that healthy and likely demeaning (by modern standards) to some of the side show staff, but it was unforgettable--even after 40 years.

For me, the greatest show on earth remains the one in my home, with my kids meta- morphing constantly before my very eyes. They hail from the far reaches of imagination. The stories they tell, the gibberish they speak--unprecedented in life's more common thoroughfares! They baffle the senses with amazing feats (climbing on the back of the couch, flushing toys, overloading diapers). They are natural entertainers, performing 24/7, from gunfights to pirate wars, from fairy tales to historical re-enactments... There is never a dull moment in the family circus!

Ahoy--playground ideas ahead...

Building Things is something that brings me pleasure, from lego castles to model cars to raised garden beds and (this last week) carports. I find Building Things a close second to Fixing Things.

As previously mentioned on this blog, I am plotting to build a pirate ship playground, and as I am not restricted by ordinances, I am able to pick/choose standards of safety, etc. For instance, I am going to have a rope swing, for kids on my equipment are not going to strangle themselves w/the rope. (We have had a tire swing for some time now and report no fatalities.) I am honestly trying to plan for safety (no heads caught between ropes/bars, no falls of any great distance w/n the structure, reasonable slope to the slide, etc).

I am hoping to use unconventional materials, too. Why be limited to packaged deals, to new lumber, etc? Salvaged wood is better for me. Anytime I can Build Things of Salvaged Things--well, that's a double whammy for me. I know this: I'm going to build something out of old wooden pallets I'll upcycle into a building or part of this playground. I'm building cannons from rusty old sewer pipe. We'll make a ship's wheel from the remains of a garden cultivator. (I need a welder to make some of my dreams come true.) I want to get hold of old wooden barrel staves to make cool stairway railing, but that's hard to come by in KS. I'm looking into culvert pipe liners as a basis for a pipe slide. Half the fun is re-engineering materials into this themed playground.

It's also fun to combine form and function. Part of the rope ladder will be for climbing, but some will be just for looks. Some of the sails will be for shade as well as effect. The cross members on the mast (obviously I know little of ships, to date, or I'd give some technical name like spars or "yippin' yappies") will be the support for conventional swings. The pipe slide will run the interior of the ship, for the boys said "a stupid yellow slide did not look pirate-shippy."

Some over-the-top ideas we're entertaining include a real water cannon, a brig, and stage two... tie-in to a nearby tree house.

Ode to Captain EO

Michael Jackson reported dead, yesterday, June 25th...

My first exposure to him was through the Jackson Five. I was a kid in middle school, feeling all grown up, eating pizza at a tiny little pizza shack next to the movie theatre. I thought the music was snappy and that this kid fronting a whole family act had a lot going for him. As we both grew up, I came to admire him for some of the cutting edge work he did in video and stage presentation. Few artists caught our attention for flamboyant pizazz like Michael Jackson. Who else could create such a cult following? Elvis alone. I've always admired his ability to amp up the production value (admittedly sometimes over-the-top). The closest I ever came to a show of his was Captain EO in Disney World in 1987. That show did include impressive special effects, pyrotechnics, Muppet/puppet costuming, and blasting music--though MJ was only on screen.

In my opinion, all the weirdness that surrounds him is largely due to too much attention, too much media, and the burdens of celebrity. I have no idea if allegations against him were true, but I will always be fascinated with what he did on stage, even though I'm not a big fan of pop music. No matter what anyone may say, he will remain an American Icon for generations.

Blogging...what fer?

I am asked this all the time. I suppose this blog is not too exciting, not the drama that many people share. It's not heavy on political commentary or anything specific and there's not a lot of dialogue. So, why bother?

I ask my students to keep journals, so it's only fair they have access to my head/heart, too. Sometimes I like to post content that might be worth looking back at, and since I'm known to lose stuff, this is a good place for it. Besides, sometimes what I share helps my students, family and friends understand me better.

I keep more personal blogs and rants and such in other environs.

Blogging, outside of myself...well, some folks have an agenda to push, and a blog is just the place to pump out their propaganda. Others see it as a tool of enterprise, even companies and products have blogs. (Blogger has a blog.) I suppose the intent is to keep users, subscribers, fans, etc up-to-date and engaged. It's less bothersome than email.

I like to read subject oriented blogs, where people post pithy content on their areas of expertise. I personally think that this is one of the best things about the so-called web 2.0, where users can make the content, for so many everyday Joe's know so very much. That content knowledge can be very, very specific, too, like the guy who writes only about his Farmall tractors...or the young lady who documents her attempts at raising a giant pumpkin. I get a lot of good advice from parenting blogs, and I also get a sense of assurance that maybe I'm not so bad at being a dad. My favorite subject area at the moment tends toward futurists--crazy stuff is afoot!

Some blogs are just bleeding emo, especially over at xanga and myspace (if one considers those blogs). I get my fill of narcissistic, repetitive, goth drama high school blather very quickly.

I'm getting more and more into vlogs and podcasts, for they are convenient for me at work, where I can multi-task (listen as I tidy my office or check my other accounts, etc.) I like travel-blogs, too, for some folks are out there living the life I am too timid to, myself.

Above all, I enjoy reading blogs of people I thought I knew, that is, people with whom I have personal contact sometimes. Why? Because I get inside their heads; I get to know them on another level that seldom comes out in conversation, work, etc.

It's hard for me to remember life before blogs, and I've only been engaged in them two or three years!

Browncoats--STILL can't stop the signal!

I've made reference to the (short-lived, short-changed) TV series Firefly on more than one occasion at Musement Park. What a series! That show inspired an awesome film, Serenity!



I've downloaded the above to my iPod. I own the 11 episodes and movie on DVD. I regularly "convert" guests of our home to the whole 'verse as treated by Joss Whedon. I subscribe to the fansites, discussion groups, blogs, etc. that still (since 2002) thrive on the Juice of that brilliant creation.

I also have a wish list. I would like some shiny buttons reflecting all the catch phrases of the series/film. I'm also wanting to collect the Blue Sun travel posters of the series. (Those would go nicely in my re-engineered office environs!)

If anyone has yet to encounter these shows, drop everything. Walk out of work or discreetly download an episode when the boss isn't looking. That's all it will take. You'll join with the rest of us.

Covet -- can't get above it.

I resist my Covetous Nature, but it overwhelms me. I am guilty of coveting.

To covet is to desire, to yearn for, to wish for something, most especially "things" and in most applications, the things belonging to others. When I was steeped in the steeple, I fought the affliction with prayer and guilt trips (always, the guilt trips). I tried to find more worthy, more holy things to yearn for. Maybe that was the root of my vaulting ambition that led me to o'erleap all common sense and work so very hard to establish the best darn service program ever...I was trying so hard not to covet others' things but to instead build something worthy of coveting. Some people do that with cars, houses, body building, trophy spouses...so I guess I thought "the best darn service program ever" was a less-materialistic, less-bad thing to build up that others might covet it. (This, of course, is the alternate sin of Pride--they'll get you every time!)

I mention coveting, for lately I've had it BAD. Today, for instance, we went to the Big Tool store, or something like that, at K15 and 63rd in Derby. I wanted things on every aisle, practically every shelf--but I didn't have enough money to even buy a pop from vending machine for my kid. I visited a hardware store recently, and again, there was so much I could use, so much I yearned for--and couldn't ever afford. We go to garage sales and get stuff cheap (I found a $60 Carhart jacket for $2 recently) but even then, slumming through garage sales, I find myself coveting everyone's yards, garages, tools, outbuildings, landscaping...

Just writing this makes me feel evil and rotten and creepy crawly all over again, as if I'd just been rolling in the grass. (Around here, the grass is chock-full of ticks and fleas.)

I wish I could unplug my obsessive covetousness. I'd like to think it would go away if I suddenly were independently wealthy. Nahhh. Maybe a lobotomy? Maybe a crash of the economy? Nope--I'm sure I'd still be wanting someone's milk churn or chicken eggs or ammunition bunker.

How does one become content instead of covetous?

All Decked Out

I'm going to build a deck.

With the meager surplus of funds I'm squirreling away, I'm going to build both a deck and a playground. These two projects give me tremendous release of creativity and tension. I am able to fiddle and fidget and research. I am able to apply myself to something that is sure to be uniquely "me," and at the same time, I'm making something for others to enjoy, too. I get to work outside, with my hands, and I get to make something that will last and add value to my house--all at the same time!

At times deck dreams distract me. I lounge around flipping through deck magazines like some folks do porno. I sometimes get depressed, knowing I'll never have resources for some of those decks; other times I think that even some of the more complicated ones are just not very creative. Again, I am eager to strut my stuff with a deck design that fits my vision.

One plan I have not let go of is to build decking/boardwalk around the windmill tower in our back yard. Talk about a water element! If I can pull that off, maybe with some strategic sunflower plantings around it--well, put me on the garden show list, baby!

Of course, I'd like to build it out of composite material, or better yet cedar, but I just don't know if I'd ever have the cash to finish such a thing. Maybe I will engineer a deck design that can be done in phases, as the money comes in. (?)

I want room for the boys or my friends to come over for a drum circle. I want room for the Clan that lives/visits to have space for parties of any occasion. I'd like to have the deck be a springboard to All-Things-Out-Back. (When I smoked, I always fantasized about kicking back and puffing away on a lounge chair on my deck.) These days, with my new grill, I want to be out back grilling regularly (at least weekly). I'm looking into a fire pit,built in, and maybe even a pseudo sink. Then again, I'd like some kind of pergola or arbor or some structure for honey suckle. Of course, I'd like to have an attached gazebo with hot tub, but that will have to wait so long I'll likely have to be wheeled out to it by some nurse or something.

All these grand ideas--but I could do with a 4x8 chunk of plywood out the back door, even a patio slab. I just am aching to get out back, rather than deal with the annoying road noise and prying eyes of passers-by out in the front yard.

Anyway, as things progress, I'll provide progress reports.

Responsibility

The responsibility of 11 acres is heavy. The man who sold the property claimed he just "couldn't keep up with the place anymore." He was maybe in his early 60's. I'm in my late 40's, and whew--I understand where he's coming from!

On the other hand, I don't think I'll ever let it wear on me. I look at the responsibility of The Land as a true blessing, a gift. I do not know why it means so much to me, but it does.

Someone claimed I was breeding kids just so I'd have someone to take care of the place...the truth is, well, I just love having kids in my life. I am enlightened by them, amused by them, inspired by them--I could go on and on.

Of course, they are my greatest responsibility, and like The Land, they are a welcome one, a godsend!

Then there's my job, as recently referenced. I love my job. It's probably pretty petty in the big picture, compared to Rocket Science or something, but it gives me Juice...and I still get a charge out of helping people improve in their writing. Some folk just "do" their job. I think, during the school year anyway, I "am" my job.

This whole topic is just bizarre; not even ten years ago I was gunshy of any form of responsibility.

I don't know what accounts for the about-face, but I'm pleased w/myself!

Perpetuum Jazzile cover of "Africa"

One highlight of my years at Cowley...one very hot August day when the Brown Center (a large 700 seat auditorium) opened, without air conditioning, the entire freshman class was required to attend orientation. I had the misfortune of being chosen to "warm up" the audience. Not knowing what else to do, I led them in creating a rain storm. Watch the video below, imagine it amplified by 400 more participants. It still gives me the goose bumps to reflect on that moment.



Otherwise, it's a fun tune to resurrect, eh?

What was that, again?

My memory fails me.
Oh, I can do well with song lyrics and jingles, with images and dreams, but when it comes to early memories, Elvis has left the building!

My high school classmates were writing about an 8th grade outing we took. They referred to me, to some embarrassing antics that I have no recollection of. It is as if someone else lived my childhood.

It is the same with many events of my life which I have repressed--done so very well that it's almost impossible (even with snapshots to prompt me) to recall some of the less-than-stellar moments of my life.

Even more sad, I have a hard time remembering lots of recent events in any detail.

I have never been a detail-oriented person; I seldom can tell you the cast, author, title, ball player, etc. (My brother, on the other hand, is Rainman!)

I try to write down special things to remember, and thankfully my wife is a shutterbug, so we get photographic documentation of lots of things in our lives...but having it recorded externally is not so great as a Memory.

I've even been to workshops, read books, listened to CD's and tapes on memory--but none of the techniques have really been sticking.

I worry sometimes that I'm defective.

At least I compensate by trying to be a pleasant person getting the most out of now.

Just don't ask me about it next week.

Camping!

Tonight, at long last, my boys and I go camping. It's no big deal, just pitching a tent in the yard, but it's big to them, and thus, it's important to me. I'm writing now, in anticipation of the event, for I am investing all the good vibes into it that I can, in advance.

We will likely have funny struggles setting up the tent. I'm sure we'll screw it up a time or two, even though it's a simple dome/pole jobbie. We won't be any more crowded than we are in our own bed, so that won't be an issue, and we're even taking an air mattress out, so we should be downright cozy. I doubt we'll get the 2 year old to spend the night w/us, for he's a momma's boy, but we may get him inside it a while.

I did not think last year's camp made any impression on the then-two-year-old, Carson, but he's been talking a lot about it lately! One point he brings up repeatedly is that he was trapped inside the tent the following morning. I had to run in the house, so I zipped the tent to keep the bugs out...I did not know the boys could not figure out how to get out, so I was shocked when I returned w/breakfast to hear them both screaming bloody murder! (They do not like being confined!) We put a blanket out for the beagle, Roger, at the door last year, and Carson said we should do that again, so Roger can protect us from coyotes and bears.

We may get really nervy and camp down by our fire pit, which is a good 300 yards or more from the house, off in the dark, in the woods a ways. That would be fun, but I don't know if the boys are brave and bold enough for that (spooky) spot just yet.

I know we'll make memories, and I hope they will be lasting, positive ones. Camping is one tradition my folks never, ever participated in, and I hope to someday make it a staple for my tribe. (We bought a HUGE tent that will hold our whole crew, so I hope to make use of it.)

We'll likely cook smores or hot dogs; we'll likely tell more stories and lies than usual, since I'll have them pried away from the television. We'll surely be cuddled from the cold (well, low 50's isn't cold, but it will feel a bit like it, I'm sure).

I can hardly wait!

UPDATE: Yes, it went very well--we left the tent up a couple days so they could knock around in it. The worst was that one pesky misquito that always seems to get inside the tent!

Salvation Yard

Some call them junk yards or salvage yards--to me they are so much more. We had one right across the road from our farm house, an old in-ground silo that would be filled w/trash and burned annually. One of my best childhood activities was to rummage around in the trash and make treasure of it. I did not need toys, for I was able to recycle an old steering wheel into a ship's wheel; reuse an abandoned dryer as a space shuttle; rethink the utility of everything from jam jars to tin cans. My dogs and I also hunted there, scaring out mice, rats, ground squirrels, rabbits and badgers...once even a skunk.

I think the junk yard enhanced my young imagination more than television, film or books.

I remember in high school, while we were all grappling for career direction, I thought I had found mine: to operate a salvage yard! I was a motorhead, and once I went Beyond the Fence with a worker at a salvage yard to hunt for hubcaps or something. It was Dodge City, 1977. I was thrilled to ride with him in a vehicle they had thrown together from junked cars. It had no doors, no glass. The seats did not match. He had ink pens stuck in the dashboard (his pen holder) and an open container in what was once an ash tray. It was more like a dune buggy than a car, and it made a lasting impression on me. All I ever wanted was to rummage around in a junk yard, finding new use for old stuff...

...but the world is cruel to a teenager, and I eventually had to let that dream go.

Well, sort of. I continue to cling to trash. We bought a place with a substantial junk pile in back (well hidden behind a grove of trees, far from the house, behind a barbed wire fence)...and I regularly have to defend its value. I can find something from what others see as nothing--any time! They see a stack of junk tires, I see a planter for potatoes. They see scrap tin, I see sheeting for a goat shelter.

Some would claim I have even more than this in common with Oscar the Grouch.

Break Doldrums Hit At Last

Maybe it was the new baby, the summer class, the extra folk in the household, the garden or the tractor-related issues...but something has changed. (Maybe it's the fact that this is June 1st and I can feel my break ebbing away already.)

I AM FEELING BUMMED OUT. That's right, I got the blues. I think that regimen I referenced last month is too slow in coming. Maybe I'd better revisit my own blog entries!

I made a list just now, as I've learned to do for breaks to make them matter. I know myself well enough to know (even though I don't like this about myself) that I need a sense of accomplishment, that I need things to do. If I haven't, I get gray. I wish I could just be...just hang in a hammock or play w/the kids w/out any drive or determination for anything.

I've yet to learn how.

Kansas Sunflowers

We have native sunflowers growing here on our property, but I do not know the official name of them or exactly what variety they are. This summer, we're participating in the Great Sunflower Project to help track bees. It should bee fun.

They sent us a packet of Helianthus annuus seeds, (aka Lemon Queens). I was going to put them across a trellis from beans, but I was advised that sunflowers can push other plants aside. Now, I'm thinking of putting them back near our bee tree--though it would be interesting to put them on the faaaaaar end of the land to see if our bees would travel there for the sunflowers. (Of course, we have a bee/butterfly garden going and we're planting some other flowers, too, so I do not know that bees will be especially attracted to these sunflowers, anyway.) Who cares, it is just fun to have sunflowers!



I want to plant some GIANT ones, to complement my GIANT pumpkins.

You'd think all I ever thought about was gardening...well, maybe so these days, but as summer progresses, I'll shift to something else, like something cool, indoors.

My International Harvester!

Craig Morgan's song is ringing in my ears as I write this--or else it's from tractoring w/o ear protection. Here's a link to the song/video, especially of interest for most of it was filmed in Wichita (in front of the Orpheum)a year or two ago.

Yes, I have an ol' Farmall SuperC, and at last it's functional again. I am so happy to have it back on its feet--er--tires. I will be using it to mow the jungle here (some weeds literally 10 ft tall!) I swore I'd never let it get this bad, and I truly was ahead of the weeds before my equipment troubles. (I think I'll go shoot a "before" picture or two, for even I would not believe how bad it's gotten!) All will be well for next year, anyway, for I'm also gearing up for livestock which should keep the weeds under control.

Outside of that, the garden is greening. The corn is going in tonight, late as it may be--it will still be okay. 'Never did get my peas planted, but then, we're not really big pea eaters.



I am most looking forward to the melons, reminiscent of my childhood and our 200 acre cantaloupe patch, 40 acres of watermelon, 40 acres of cabbage, 5 acres of peppers, 1/2 acre of strawberries, etc. We had a building to process melons, sorting them, cleaning and boxing them for shipment. My job was to sort the good from fair melons on a conveyor belt. It was hard work, but I'm pretty good at picking a good melon today!

Here's a pic of me by the load of cabbage I was about to load from our dock to one of our transport trailers...yes, I did manual labor as a kid! Builds character!



And in closing, an exciting video of some crackerjack tractoring that could only be done with the Superb Super C!

The Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown!

I was trusted with Dill's Atlantic Giant Pumpkin seeds last year, but I did not really plant them seriously and nothing happened. THIS YEAR I am balancing the pH of the soil, adding nutrients, plotting the location and watering closely--altogether planning for a G-I-A-N-T pumpkin! I trust that we will grow one that's much bigger than I could hope to carry, something over 300 lbs is my goal--the record is over 1,200 pounds!

8th Anniversary--YIKES

That was the sentiment today. I mean, what's one to do with bronze as a traditional gift? I could have had a bust made, I suppose. I could have given her a bronze medal (an insult, coming in third, if you ask me). Instead I went with pottery, the other traditional gift of the 8th year.

We went to ClayWorks in Newton and hand crafted something together to commemorate our collaborative effort and joys of the last 8 years. We made a friend, too, with a former art instructor from my college. All too cool.

Looking for a great place to eat in the Wichita region? I urge you to visit Aggie's in Hesston, not too far from Town and very-much worth the drive. That's where we supped.

I also made her a card. I really need to do that more often. I have fun and she likes my handmade efforts. The art work is lousy, but it's fun, anyway.

The Job

Ready for summer school--I mean, really ready! Over a week in advance. I have all my summer course materials prepared right down to the last point in the grade book. I'm teaching three sections, but I'm eager to stay on top of it, to be responsive and proactive. This will be my best summer school experience yet.

Next, I'm going to build a technical writing course online. It should be one of my better builds, for I've been working on it for a long while in my head, gathering resources, etc. I taught it at Kansas State University for five years, then created three (state approved) technical writing courses at Cowley. What I want for this one is more and more "reality" and less academia. I want to interview people in the field (maybe I'll make it an assignment). I used to edit texts for technical writing, and I've tried to keep up with what's new in them. I've found more scenarios, more real-world documents, and (thank goodness) a move to more multi-media. I still have yet to find one that embraces mobile communication well (text messages, twittering, etc) which I foresee as being very relevant to the Workplace of Tomorrow. At least I can coach them through principles that govern most all workplace communication, show/tell how it applies to all media, maybe (?) I have a good ethics package from my mentor at KSU that textbooks have never caught up with, and I look forward to implementing that, too.

For fall, I'm going to be teaching 24 credits again, but I'm going to continue seeking ways to be more efficient. It's not just the "work smart, not hard" maxim; it's also that teaching this many credits means over 100 students in composition, which in my classes means over 100,000 words! Ugh. I want to guide them to write better material in my own self interest--I have to read it all (and I do read every page of everything, right down to their journals).

I am also continuing to incorporate more multi-media, more LMS-support, less paper, and more grammar/punctuation/mechanics. I've gotten to a comfortable place with documentation, delivering it in a palatable way that gives the students a good toe-dip. I've been building up a good rhetoric-driven approach, been very audience-centered for some time. It can always improve.

Then the bastards keep changing books on us, and I have to find a way to build content that is not text/page-specific, for that causes me HOURS of recalibrating.

All-in-all, I am very content with where I'm at on-the-job. Now if only I earned enough money! I'm still looking into moonlighting for other schools, since my school cannot allow me to have more than 24 credit hours. *sigh*

Latest Edition

SHE shall some day have me wrapped around her finger? That's what I am told. I tremble.

Honestly, I am all wuzzy on this one, not sure how to be a dad to a baby girl. I hope it will come to me eventually. I'm used to rough housing with boys, to telling stories with the guys, to being...manly. I don't know how I will adapt to her majesty. YIKES.

Anyway, she is cute, and she is lively, and I'm (honestly, under all my crusty exterior) very happy to have this latest edition, this new challenge, under our roof. She is beautiful and delightful to be around.

My lil' Ellison Dee.

Regimen

Maybe a better word is "routine."

I want to get into one this summer. I want to write, then work, then be off for the family -- daily. I hope to clear this with all parties involved, so that I might work outside when it's cool, then be free to fish, play, nap, etc for the remainder of the day, every day! Is that too much to shoot for? I know I have a GREAT DEAL TO DO regarding work, but then, I also have a great responsibility at home, especially with the new baby to be released this Friday. And, I have a good amount of duties stacked up just keeping the grounds and garden and house all in order. Still, I'd like to get back into the swing of writing (like I did in Ulysses, 1-2000 words daily). I'd like to work with my circadian rhythm and my "smart time" and coordinate all that with the optimum weather patterns per day...is that too much to ask? (Of course, some where in there, I'll need my power nap, too!)

Kids and pets and plants and (I have finally come to agree) people -- we all work better when things are in a rhythm, a cycle, a predictable pace.

Thaaaat's it...I'll call it a "rhythm," for that does not sound constricting at all...it sounds fun!

I'm already hearing that Johnny Cash lyric, "C'mon and get rhythm..."

Hey, get rhythm when you get the blues
Come on, get rhythm when you get the blues
Get a rock 'n' roll feelin' in your bones
Put taps on your toes and get gone
Get rhythm when you get the blues

A Little shoeshine boy never gets low down
But he's got the dirtiest job in town
Bendin' low at the peoples' feet
On the windy corner of the dirty street
Well, I asked him while he shined my shoes
How'd he keep from gettin' the blues
He grinned as he raised his little head
Popped a shoeshine rag and then he said

Get rhythm when you get the blues
Come on, get rhythm when you get the blues
A jumpy rhythm makes you feel so fine
It'll shake all the trouble from your worried mind
Get rhythm when you get the blues

Get rhythm when you get the blues
Come on , get rhythm when you get the blues
Get a rock 'n' roll feelin' in your bones
Put taps on your toes and get gone
Get rhythm when you get the blues

Well, I sat down to listen to the shoeshine boy
And I thought I was gonna jump for joy
Slapped on the shoe polish left and right
He took a shoeshine rag and he held it tight
He stopped once to wipe the sweat away
I said you're a mighty little boy to be-a workin' that way
He said I like it with a big wide grin
Kept on a poppin' and he said again

Get rhythm when you get the blues
Come on, get rhythm when you get the blues
It only costs a dime, just a nickel a shoe
Does a million dollars worth of good for you
Get rhythm when you get the blues

Two Shats to the Wind

Confession: I've been a Star Trek fan since the original series. I've been to the Trek museum in Vegas. I have gear (not so much) and I collected some space junk (very little). I can, of course, do the Vulcan "Live Long and Prosper." ...and yesterday, in spite of my workload, I did go to the new movie.

The Blogosphere has been buzzing about Chris Pine vs Bill Shatner for a long while, since the cast was first announced. Could he live up to the role? Could he fill the captain's seat? How could anyone have the bravado, the smirk, the style of Shat? I had low expectations, and I was wowed. This new kid in the 'verse is okay. He doesn't really have to live up to the role of the original James T. Kirk because the two JTK's have alternate realities, but that's for viewers to wrestle with. For my money, Pine is a diamond in the rough, and in this role, he rocks (to mix metaphors and cliche's about as much as possible).

I have thoughts of the film and issues to settle, but I do not want to blow the movie for anyone who may accidentally stumble across my blog. I can only, then, babble at random w/o spoiling anything.

This film has adequate bad guy-age. Not since that Borg queen have I been so wary of a villain, and like all great antagonists, his backstory justifies his badness, for we can empathize with his motives and actions. The non-Terran culture of the Romulans was conveyed well in the otherworldly interior of their ship. (The facial tats may have been a bit hokey, like some urban street culture bad guy punks, but what are you to do? Long black coats and big boots are only so foreboding.)

Star Trek had ample brain (and reason) twisting, totally flying in the face of time continuum theories--but that's all I can say about that, right now.

I was impressed with the stellar warfare, for in the Void it was largely void of those cinematic impossibilities in the vacuum of space (fire, explosions); they made up for it with an awesome soundtrack. Next time I see it, I'll attend to that even more.

The new cast, all the major figures from the original series, are good. Chekov was funny, but otherwise not that impressive. Scotty and Bones were excellent casting choices, but the very best was Spock, played by Zachary Quinto (Sylar from Heroes).



All that aside, I still have a better casting decision for Captain James T. Kirk, a guy who I always associated with the Captain, my Captain, my dad! He was always my hero, was always a leader, and had that same swashbuckling bravado (even on a farm) as Kirk, himself!

Well-grounded

I come in from shoveling, hoeing, raking, digging--gardening! My hands are like stumps and I find it hard to even grasp the facet handle to scrub up. I find the dirt has made its way into every crack, callous, cuticle. Dust to dust. As I wash it away, I mourn the loss of this crusty exterior that has been me for the afternoon. I have been a warrior against the weeds. I have been the cultivator, the creator. As I come clean, absolved of my imaginings, I am again what I am, just a bag of water, just another guy.

Morning comes and creaks, my every bone and joint arguing in favor of stasis, but I must move. I must go about becoming. I must make myself by day by words, but when evening comes again, when I pick up my shovel, I will be one with the earth and One to reckon with, at least for a while.

Meanwhile, I relish the dirt remaining beneath my nails. As I sit in this cultured environ, void of all remnant of our earthy life, tickling a keyboard to tease from it some semblance of thought, I am happy to note that dirt, humble and dark, hiding under my talons.

Talking to Myself

I've been working up a piece of science fiction in which the lead character is visited by a familiar face--his own. It is a version of himself about 20 years his senior, who has found a way back through time to visit him(self) and give some advice/insight. (Or so it seems on the surface--but I'm not going to spoil it here....that'd be the whole story you'd want to read, sometime.) Here, I'm just mentioning that as a springboard to this entry...

If I could go back and talk to myself at different intervals, would I choose to do so? Knowing it might result in me changing direction and ending up with a different life than I now lead, I'd have to say NO I would not. I might like to visit my younger self and just watch, or maybe provide some encouragement, but I would not say, "Hey, don't drink the water here--really!"

If, however, I could end up with the fantastic wife, family, job and life I now have, I might just revisit my past with a few bits of advice...

1976 No matter what, if your peers think debate and cross country and vocal are "for fags," you go right ahead and do them. If it's what you'd like to participate in, then don't let anyone dissuade you.

1980 So your farm's going under. That will only open new doors. Do not look at it as the end of the world, and don't feel obligated to stick around after high school--get on with your life.

1987 Love your grandparents more. They are a vanishing commodity. Get their life stories now, this year. Record them.

1990 You are not going to believe how great this job change is going to be for you! Get in that truck and roll with confidence. The town you are about to move to his hicks-ville, but they will love you and you will love living there!

1992 Dope! Don't even think of getting rid of that Ranchero that was your grandfather's. Especially not in trade for a good car stereo. That thing is crap. In a few years, there's going to be Synch, CD's in cars, I-Pods...hold on to that truck. Oh, and what's with the silly hair?

1997 Watch out who your friends, neighbors and housemates may be. Enjoy Pathfinders. "For the Dogs." This is a pivotal year--soak it up.

1999 Good Grief--you are faaaar to obsessed with your work. It is NOT your mission. It is NOT your life's blood. It's a job...J-O-B. There are more important things in life, like fishing with Wayne, reading books with the club, maybe even (blasphemy) saving some money.

2001 May--you lucky fellow! Getting hitched to your soul mate and best friend. Spend more time with your father. He means well, he has a lot to say and offer, and he will be gone before you know it.

2003 Fatherhood looks good on you--realize what all it is, and live it to the max. MAJOR changes are afoot for you, but they are part of a storm you must weather to see the other side. Keep your chin up, knowing that it is always darkest just before the dawn. Believe it or not, you will survive even this!

2005 Again, you lucky dog. Landing on your feet. Fecal matter is now congealing. If only you were smart enough to have been saving money from your second job...

2006 You are about to find your dream home. Put on an adult diaper and get giddy!

2008 Are you NUTS? Blending households? Actually, even this will work out for the best. Crazy as it seems and hard as it is at times, giving up privacy and control--it is the best for all parties involved. You have done the right thing...now get some sleep.

This was challenging. I think I'll work on one that might reflect a Future me coming to visit the 2009 me--wonder what he'd say of my current situations?

Trying to Please Everyone

Here's an old lesson, rebooted...YOU CAN'T PLEASE EVERYONE.

I'm writing this more for myself than public review, but it bears repetition, anyway.

YOU CAN'T PLEASE EVERYONE.

(There, I repeated it.)

See, I thought class was swell today, but there were two (2) of twenty (20) who went away disgruntled, for they don't like my delivery, the pacing, the (sometimes admittedly too-) goofy delivery. They did not like the rushed group quiz (it was a GROUP quiz, for crying out loud, over content they'd been assigned to read in advance, that we'd just gone over in class). I even gave everyone the chance to go solo if they did not like the group guesses...AND these displeased people left EARLY, when they would have had another five minutes or so to revise/do on their own, etc...

But the point is, I remind myself, that I should get over those two and their petty snarkiness. I should brush it off. I should move on. It's not like I did not have technical difficulties today. It's not like I wasn't trying to cover weeks and weeks of content in one session...ENOUGH already. I should not be justifying this for any audience.

I should not fuss over it. I should take the good days and the bad. I should take the pleased students AND the impossible ones and throw them out the window about now, for it's time for me to punch the clock and go be a family man.

...so that's what I'm going to do.

...so there.

(ugh...it still bugs me.)

9 years ago...

Zacatecas, Mexico

Gadzooks--has it been that long?

I was awarded the opportunity to tour a Rotary district in Mexico. I was part of a GSE team, and the five of us had a whirlwind month-long tour of the northern states of Mx.

I guess I am thinking of the trip for several reasons...1)that nasty swine flu, 2)I keep gazing at my favorite pictures of the Rafael Coronel Museum of Masks, Zacatecas, and 3)it was just about this time 9 years ago that I was sick (literally) and tired of my tour, ready to come home.

Outside, the place is drop-dead stunning! If I could visit somewhere on earth again, that would be one of my stops, along with Victoria Falls and Petra.

It was wonderful...I'd toured ruins in England, and of course, I want to again, but the convent ruins-restored-into-museum...well, it was over-the-top. Inside, the facility is truly a museum of masks: See Pro pic of masks and Someone's flickr pic of masks ...and I found those engaging enough by themselves.

...man, I'd sure like to be wandering the grounds again, knowing that come evening, I was going to visit a mine-turned-disco (truly, 300 ft underground, in a cave--cRaZy!!) all over again.

Good times. I'm glad I still have something of a memory.

Obama on Education

In his 1st 100 days address, Obama just said, "The most important ingredient in education is the quality of our teachers. " He claims his administration will dedicate more resources toward "Training, professional development, recruitment of teachers..." He says we need to appoint master teachers, that we need to keep drawing from professional fields to classroom... (I like this next part, though it does not really apply to me) He says there must be an increase in teacher pay so more people will go into teaching...we must pay excellent teachers more. He went on to state that the single biggest ingredient in an education is the parent. The government cannot tell parents to shut off television and help kids do their homework. Parents must instill a thirst for knowledge and excellence.

I have my issues with trillion-dollar deficit spending. I am not one to be bribed, like so many who clamor for their piece of this stimulus package or that recovery plan...but I have to admit, I continue to like what he (at least) says about my field, education. Even more so, he acknowledges that you can have the best of everything at school, but if it's not reinforced at home, it ain't gonna fly. I continue, then, to like most of what he preaches, but I am not sold on how he puts it all into practice....at least not when it comes to spending money out of thin air.

Some of my colleagues have issue with merit pay, concern that those who compromise the system (like by teaching to the test) will be the ones who get the cookies. I have noticed a correlation between those who grouse around and those who are not too eager to work up a sweat in the classroom. I wander the halls of my college and see profs kicked back, feet on the desk, doing "lecture." Some instructors let class out so early it's hardly time for the tardy students to get there. Others claim it's okay to grade an essay after just skimming the first page! These are the same folks who usually gnash their teeth about merit pay, for I believe they know they would be smoked out. Those who do their best, who always strive to do even better--well, we never get weepy over merit pay.

I have always argued that the system is on its head, that celebrities, athletes, politicians, etc. all get paid too much. I've always argued against the entire concept of the career politician, even paid representation. Instead, homemakers (of either sex), teachers, and all manner of mentors to youth--they are founding our future. Instead of blowing so much money on bombs (or with this current administration...on EVERYTHING) we should concentrate our investments on tomorrow, that is, our youth, our homes.

So...from this one snippet of Big O's presentation today, he's headed in the right direction. I love to listen to him. I am wooed by his charm and rhetoric. Afterwards, I shake it off and begin questioning things, but I have to hand it to him, he has the best presence of an political figure I can recall. Dashing!

Under-prepared

...which is to say, NOT READY.

Driving to work today, I had to ford a wash over the county road I drive. The water was over the road for the length of a football field, and it appeared about 4 inches deep...well, that was a bit of an under-guesstimate, for it surged in under my doors as I crossed. Once on the other side, over the next hill, I discovered an utterly impassible wash that sent me backtracking, taking an alternate route (that was also partially submerged).

It reminded me that I live on the edge.

Not the edge of civilization, really. My whole route (even the alternate route) to work is paved.

I am referring to the edge of my seat, my pants, my sanity. I am on the cusp of something, the brink of something, the very lip of this chasm--

I am under-prepared for Hardship. If my car were to have stalled out, there I was in my dress shoes. If I run low on gas and there's been a raid on the stations, I'm running on empty. I did not eat breakfast this morning, so likewise, if civilization crashed right now, I'd go hungry. If the Internet were to blow a gasket, where would I be then? Unable to get this out!

More realistically, I have no provisions stored up. We have no fresh water in reserve. We have no goods to barter. I don't even own a generator (as last night's power outage reminded me, yet again.)

Even more realistically, there's this pandemic scare, and my household could not go into isolation if we wanted to. People in my house depend on their daily newspaper, their daily runs to the market, and god forbid a cell phone infrastructure collapse!

And last night, as winds raged and tornadoes threatened, I realized how very under-prepared we are even for tornado or fire. We have flashlights and a battery-powered radio, but that's it, and it took 1/2 an hour to get that stuff rounded up.

My grandmother used to make me pack blankets, candles, food, warm clothes--just to traverse Kansas in the winter--heck, even to go the 12 miles to our farm some winter days! She was always prepared for any eventuality. She had weathered the 30's, and she was one tough customer.

Mennonites and Mormons are always prepared. Some of those folks have told me a tenet of their faith is to have 2 months-worth of supplies and resources at hand, always. They are always among the first responders and disaster relief teams, too. You have to respect them for that--not only are they prepared, they help mop up for all us dopes who were not-so-at-the-ready.

Getting Prepared is a good goal. Being self-sustainable may be a long, long way off, but at least this early step seems achievable--and vitally important!

GUILTY--I made too many footprints

Well, it seems I have come full circle. Twenty years ago, I was of the camp that insisted on zero population growth. I read Future Shock and all the prognostications of too much breeding. I knew in my heart it was the responsible thing to do for the good of the planet--I was going to adopt children of developing nations, never bear my own. To reproduce was simply wrong, in my head at that time. Why make more babies when there are so many already here who are not being cared for, bursting the doors of orphanages and refugee camps? What gave me the right to put more pressure on the planet by making more and more carbon foot prints? Shame on anyone who even thought of such a thing.

Well, in about two weeks, I will be the father of four (4) children. That's quite the about-face, eh?

The whole issue was brought to my attention (of course) by the upcoming arrival of our #4. It has been also resurrected by a radio broadcast I heard on the subject. In that broadcast, the expert claimed that having only one or two children was the only patriotic thing to do. More would burden the system, our nation, and thus the world. It would make the good ol' USA seem gluttonous and inconsiderate of the plight of the planet. So, for ma, apple pie, and Chevrolet, get fixed today! I had not entertained the idea of reproduction in any political light prior to that drive-time broadcast.

Since then, I've been worried what might come of such talk. Will we be breeding for the State before long? Will we offer up our brood for the VolksLand? Will larger families be ostracized for their excess?

I realize that there are some (televised, I'm told) LARGE families that boggle the minds of many. Once one gets over a dozen (there are movies to this effect, like Cheaper by the Dozen) even I find it harder to explain or justify. I've heard all I ever want to hear about the infamous Octo-mom and related cases.

Here's the thing: I'm not one of those families. Yes, we have more than replaced ourselves. Yes, we are consuming more resources than we need to be. On the other hand, my kids, even at the age of two, are learning self-sufficiency. They are learning how food is made and how much work goes into it. They are also being exposed to the harsher realities of an uncomfortable planet where inequities in the food supply are hard to forgive. (When I was a kid, we had some mystical paradigm that suggested that if I cleaned my plate, it was better for starving kids in China.)

Is my larger-than-necessary family leaving a bigger carbon footprint than those who abide by the recommendations? Sure. I would argue, however, that they will tread lightly on the planet, maybe even contribute to the greater good of the planet, than many who have been carefully and more-conscientiously born and bred.

Rain

So, it's raining here in KS. It's now monsoon season, spring. Forecast says it's to rain virtually every day this week.

Some people dislike the rain, the mud...flooding. It inconveniences some folk; musses up the hair.

For me, however, there's nothing quite like it.
I grew up in Western Kansas, where all precipitation comes from the side, usually the north, not from the clouds. Rain was rare; when it did come, it was revered. There's nothing quite as exhilarating as the fresh smell of rain. My grandma told the story how that during the '30's they would sometimes pour a pitcher of water on the dusty driveway, then bend over and inhale that sweet smell they'd been so-long separated from.

There's a lot to be said for growing up in a desolate, barren place like SW KS. It makes me appreciate the little things, like, say: other people, trees, and especially rain! I'm always more happy when it's cloudy, raining, soggy. To me, rain means life, liveliness, and (as a wanna be farmer) livelihood.

I have been known to go for a walk in the rain. I've ran naked in the rain. I like to catch rain drops in my mouth. What's more pure, more quenching, than fresh rain?

Alas, it escapes me...
Out at my mom's place there's a 500 gallon tank that once held well water (in my grandfather's day). The tank is still sound, though I'd have it professionally rehabbed and cleansed before using it. I'd like to have that to pump full of well water AND to capture rainwater. I could easily water my whole property (and future livestock) from that tank, if only she'd let it go.

Meanwhile...
I like the sound of rain. I like to watch it rain. I like the patter and patterns of rain on a window. (I wish I had a window in my office!) I like songs about rain. Rain, like food, is an old, powerful word...

rain
O.E. regn, from P.Gmc. *regna- (cf. O.S. regan, O.N. regn, O.Fris. rein, M.Du. reghen, Ger. regen, Goth. rign "rain"), with no certain cognates outside Gmc., unless it is from a presumed PIE *reg- "moist, wet," which may be the source of L. rigare "to wet, moisten" (cf. irrigate). The verb is O.E. regnian, usually contracted to rinan. Transf. and fig. use of other things that fall as rain (blessings, tears, etc.) is recorded from c.1200. Rainbow is O.E. renboga (common Gmc. compound, cf. O.N. regnbogi, Du. regenboog, see bow (n.)). Raindrop is O.E. rendropa; first record of raincheck is from 1884, originally of tickets to rained-out baseball games. Raincoat attested from 1830. Rainmaker first recorded 1775, in ref. to tribal magicians. Phrase to rain cats and dogs is attested from 1738 (variation rain dogs and polecats is from 1652), of unknown origin, despite intense speculation. One of the more idiotic assertions is that it refers to pets sliding off sod roofs when the sod got too wet during a rainstorm. Ever see a cat react to a rainstorm by climbing up on an exposed roof? To rain on (someone's) parade is attested from 1941.
Online Etymology Dictionary, © 2001 Douglas Harper

Rainmaker is one of my favorite words/concepts, from the very sound of it to every connotative meaning it may pack.

Listening to: "Have you ever seen the rain" by CCR.

Stranger than Fiction

I've now watched this film something like 17 times (sometimes not too attentively) through class, etc. Repetition does not make me an expert, but it does likely make me fairly familiar with the film.

What strikes me is that I am still affected emotionally by it. I know it's a bit hammy and heavy handed. I know that Will Ferell is an unlikely actor to carry a romantic comedy. I know the message is Hollywood drivel. Regardless, it still gets me.

Likely this is because I'm such a sucker for high concept movies. While others poo poo them out of the blocks, I default to being their champion until proven otherwise. I like a movie with a premise that surprises me. (Yes, I am aware that STF does not offer a premise that has never been proposed before. Like thrift store clothing, though, it was new to me.) I like a movie that makes me pause to consider, especially if that pause is right in the wake of the initial surprise of circumstance/premise.

If I can just ride the tide of a film, then I am typically bored by it. SOMETHING has to jump out at me via acting, characters, plot, even the setting/situation can stir me...but if I leave the theatre or couch w/o being affected, I never recommend the film to anyone.

"Being affected" is a nebulous criteria, I realize. Something happens across my synapses, some "wow" response is stimulated. I am (at the least) led to say 'hmmmmmm' and at the most immediately evangelizing the film to all I know.

Sometimes I enjoy a toe-to-toe slugfest with someone who may criticize a film I like. This is something I really relish when it's a film I am really behind: Serenity, Pirates of the C...., and now, more and more, Stranger than Fiction.

At the very least, I recommend it. Give it a view.

Humor

I'm a founder of the campus creative writing club, and we generate new assignments weekly...last week I was tasked w/historical fiction. This week we are to craft something humorous.

Comedy has always evaded me. Next to poetry, I find it about the hardest thing in the world to write. Part of the problem is that humor is relative. Fart jokes work in middle school (and on sophomoric radio talk shows) and knock-knock jokes work on my kindergartener...

...and then I try to think of a timeless bit of humor, something that might still get a chuckle one hundred years from now. THAT's really challenging!

I am taking ideas, if anyone has any.

April Fool's Day

Why do I like this "holiday" anyhow? Maybe it's empowering, I don't know. Maybe it's the fact that I get to let my fun side out some, I guess.

Today's jests included:
shut off hot water heater
turned up house thermostat
advanced clocks 2 hrs
toilet seat goo
hid the newspaper
keyboard retardation trick
turned several optical mice blind
punked my entire class, twice
and more to come.

I'm going to think up some for my little boys yet today, to get them in the spirit of things. I'm sure my family is cooking up something for me, too.

I used this in class today as a hoax website example. Fun. Fun. Fun.

What's so Funny?

Kid gush, again--skip on if you have low tolerance...

So, my 6 year old has been struggling with humor for some time now. He laughs (and always has) at bodily functions, situational humor, slapstick--but word games, puns, etc...he's reasoning his way through.

I find this absolutely amazing.

It reminds me of Star Trek: TNG when Data (an android, in case you did not know) was sometimes striving to be more human. He would attempt jokes, jazz, emotions, etc...

My son is great because, unlike a self-conscious adult, when he does not get the joke, he will ask outright: "What makes that funny, dad?" Sometimes, anticipating he won't get a joke, I'll tell the punchline and immediately go into explication of it. He will interrupt me, "I get it, already." Other times, even if every word in the joke is w/n his vocabulary, he may still wrestle with the joke for days or weeks. Almost always, whenever he does finally get it, he dredges it up again from some fantastic memory bank, verbatim.

I imagine similar issues are afoot for people studying a second language. Since many puns and word-related jokes are on the fringes, border crossings of slang and such, I would bet they are not commonly covered in classes on language. I think it would be a super course, however, to have a capstone course on jokes in the language..."Humor in Klingon," for example.

A) What do you call a truckload of Bison?

B) What kind of spell turns you into a dinosaur?

C) Knock, knock.
Who's there?
Olive.
Olive who?


These are the kind of jokes he's now logged into his repertoire and fully understands. They're just the kind of stuff I like to use in class, too!

A) Buffaload
B) T-hex
C) Olive you!

40 years of M.E.N.

At last, after years of begging for this for Christmas, now the 8000 articles of Mother Earth News, a 4 CDROM set, is mine! This is all the stuff you can't always get on the net, complete w/pictures, how-to illustrations, the works.

Now I am fully equipped, in the head at least, without excuse, when it comes to all-things-on-the-farm. That's right, it's allllll in there. Now, if only it were all in my head! Oh well, I'll absorb it all over these last colder / wet days and sleepless nights leading up to summer.

Eventually, maybe this fall, I'll offer a review of the discs and articles, but I'm just now digging in. I can say that the early MEN was ever-more earthy, grassroots, less commercial, it seems.

Well, enough of this, I'm going to go read some before the sun comes up.

Here it comes....

Yes. I like this video a great deal both as a parent and educator.

I really included it for the song, today, "La Breeze" by Simian.

What's coming? Can't you feel it in the air tonight? Hold on...it's Spring Break! Why does that matter? If you are asking, you are not in academia. Spring Break is just a week in the midst of things, but what a welcome relief if offers! Whew!

Real-world workin' folk don't relate. "Geez, teachers, you only work 30 weeks a year anyway, so how's it that you need a week off after only running 8 into the new year?"

Well, aren't you Ho-diddily-o-lier than thou, asking that!

For me, like the song, pressures are building, tensions rising, everything is building to that moment, this term, this Friday! Then it's pandemonium, but it's all pleasure. I won't crack a book, may not even log into my classes. I'm going to garden, travel, fix stuff, farm--everything I couldn't do in the last entry of lamentation!

What I'd rather be doing...

1. anything
2. hanging w/family
3. wandering my property
4. going to the garden show
5. writing
6. reading
7. napping
8. taking a road trip
9. going out to the movies
10. de-cluttering home, office, car, garage, universe
11. visiting friends in person
12. downloading music
13. building something
14. fixing something
15. surfing the web

...instead, I'm grading.

Poop.

Shooter Drill

In two hours, this campus will be chaos.

We're having a demo/drill for the worst-case-scenario, a gunman on campus. There will be live shots fired (blanks, of course, but indoors it's dramatic). There will likely be fire alarms, screaming and yelling, policia in full-on bravado.

I understand the purpose of the drills, and I know they help ferret out problems in our security and response systems. I am fully aware that the scenario has been a reality at far too many schools, and I know it could happen here as well as anywhere else.

We have tornado drills here. Fire drills, too. Now school shooting drills. It's hard to find enough time to get our jobs done amidst all this drilling. Speaking of which, at another building I may head for to avoid this shooter drill, there is a good deal of drilling going on, too. In this case, it's jackhammers and cement saws and such, for that place is getting a facelift. Thank goodness I have headphones and music to retreat to when I'm grading!

Maybe we should have drills "in the event of" other things:

• everyone shows up for class on time (less likely than a tornado)
• everyone submits all work on time (even less likely than a gunman)
• people stop to help one another out (a giant comet is more likely to hit the earth)
• commuters intentionally park as far away as possible, for exercise and to be kind to others (c'mon!)

In the same way the calamity drills help us become sensitized, prepared, and teach us to anticipate the worst, maybe my drills would have the same effect on the lighter side, and as we drilled, so we might become punctual, efficient, and kind.

We often need to go beyond merely expecting something; we have to practice as-if scenarios. I propose we do this for the bad (of course) but also to anticipate the best.

ANGER

The only broken bone I've ever had was in my hand due to punching walls. I destroyed a wall of an out-building with a big hammer once in a rage. I used to have anger management issues, to say the least.

My son, only six, sometimes gets mad beyond words. It looks silly on him.

I remarked recently in conversation that I'd not been truly angry, yelling-type angry, in years. Most people, especially those who know only this recent manifestation of myself, have no idea that I have this tendency to blow my stack. Every time it has come up, people just laugh and say, "You?"

Yesterday, however, I revisited my anger in such an excruciating, full-on outburst that I have aching muscles and a woeful heart today. At least I took it outside, away from everyone and every thing, burning off my angry energy by tearing down a corral w/a sledge hammer.

I wish I could get angry at someone other than myself, but that is the center of my s*storm. For me, it is very painful to be mad at me...but I guess it's better than burning bridges, hurting others, or owing anyone but myself an apology.

Now I'm mad at myself for getting so mad at myself.

GRRRRR!

Honestly, anger is right down there with guilt as an emotion that has no redeeming value. I guess there is a "righteous anger," but my vein-popping version is anything-but-that. Anger is silly, immature, and a waste of emotion. Actually, I guess I'm writing of RAGE...just being mad/angry has its place. I seem to just perk along, merrily, then skip from bliss to rage.

There's something to work on!

Library Litany

Today my classes are going to the library.

When I was young, going to the library was a real treat. We visited the scriptorium, filled to the ceiling with rolls of papyrus just waiting to be read. If we were on our best behavior, the librarian would dust off stone tablets for us to read!

Well, it was a treat, though not quite so old-fashioned.

I grew up in an era and area in which going to the library was almost like going to college. Few people went, fewer still learned from the visit. I, oddly enough for a farm boy, was among the few who would bury my nose in the books and come up educated. Trips to the library were reward for good behavior. Whenever we went to town, I was able to con my way into a library visit. (I still have my original library card, from almost 40 years ago!) I still have the four or five books I owned as a kid, but hundreds more went through my hands via the library!

When I was a child, I read everything I could get my hands on. I think this was due to my father's model behavior--he read a novel a day (very strange for a farmer) and had a den lined floor to ceiling with books. I can still remember giving my parents a book report on a biography of Ulysses Grant (I was scheduled to do this at school and was wigging out, so they had me practice with them.) It was that kind of modeling and support that kept me deep in the books.

When I went to college, my first job was...in the university library! This place was unfathomably huge, literally containing millions of books. While my hometown library was only one floor, this library was eight floors! One of my first observations, duly recorded in my journal from my first college experience, was that the libraries both smelled the same! I have since come to learn that virtually all libraries smell the same--some bookish smell that is a mix of musty paper and book binding glues, maybe.

Over the years, I have been a "Friend of" several libraries, been on library committees, and built up (and let go of) an impressive library of my own. Oh, I know what they say about libraries going away due to the Internet, but they said television would go away, too, and it has not. I recall the claim that movies would surrender to the home video, but that never happened, either. No, I think libraries are going to be with us a long, long time. They are evolving, becoming more multi-media and hip, but they are not going away.

During wars, libraries are special targets, either to be preserved, sacked, or burned--depending on the sentiment of the warring faction. Benjamin Franklin was a promoter of the modern American lending library, and we all owe him, in my opinion, a debt of gratitude greater than any owed to a president or political leader, statesmen or inventor.

I love libraries!

Really?

From time to time I'm asked by students, "What should we call you?" I know all the answers from teacher training, how a degree of distance is appropriate, how getting too chummy is certain ruination, etc. I pause and think of what I call people I should respect, say, like my doctor . I use his title, sure, but not "Dr. Boris Smartgui, MD. sir" when addressing him.

Their question always throws me into a tailspin, considering all the ramifications of the education system established as it is, with the Imparting of Knowledge in exchange for a Degree, a Rite of Passage into a Career rather than a Job. That whole thing.

Yes, I am in this line of business (and yes, Pollyanna, it is a business), and yet I question its validity. I know that in some small way I am helping people better express themselves and think more critically and all that. I know other classes advance students a bit here/there...but really, is it the best format in this day and age?

I am leaning ever-more toward what we call "blended" classes at my college. In this delivery format, the content is online; students are to read their texts and online content, then come to class to wrestle with it for comprehension, clarification, and generally get the face-to-face time that many still benefit from. I lean toward this, for it is how I learn. I don't wait around for people to tell me something in a lecture; instead I go find it online and soak it up, then return to someone local w/questions. It works for me.

In this age of aliases, avatars and alternate identities, I realize that one could become quite the poser online, even in education. Is this any different from a guy in a tie behind a podium? That is no more me than the text "me" of my online instruction. It's a uniform, a standard of performance and delivery that is expected and sometimes needed to convey content and build confidence.

Last summer I had a couple of college guys come work on my place. After a few days, one of them said, "You know, you're like a different person out here." I pressed, he added, "I mean, you don't even wear a tie." Regardless of how impractical a tie might be in any circumstance, it is just not the fashion accessory to accompany jeans, boots, and a t-shirt, to say nothing of the inherent dangers of getting it snagged in a PTO or weed-eater. His comment resonated throughout the summer, as he continued to marvel that I ate, slept, drank, spoke--like anyone else.

I wonder, as I am sure others do, just who I really am. What would I really like to be called? What's my true name? All other expectations and utilitarian standards aside, what would I really wear. Really.

I don't know the words...

My oldest son has a vast vocabulary. He's only 6, but he speaks well and knows even more than he can say (and trust me, he can say A LOT!).

Once in a while, however, he will be without the right words. Usually this is when he's in some extreme emotional state, most typically anger or sadness. He'll be crying or growling or throwing things in a tantrum, but when prodded, he can only apologize with, "Daddy, I don't have the words. I don't know enough words to tell you how I feel."

Now, we may say this when the words are slow-coming, or when we'd rather not articulate things...sometimes even grown ups have a hard time putting something into words, granted.

But when he says this, he means it. We've talked about it many times. "How come there are not good words for how you feel?" he will ask me, or "What is a word for when you want to [typically graphic violence] someone?"

I find it interesting that he has so many words and ideas, yet this is the limit of his language. For being such an expressive young man, he still struggles with verbalizing his emotion. Sometimes I wonder if kids have emotions that are off our charts, beyond our words. Maybe we all tend to pull down our person to fit societal norms, including our emotions? Maybe there truly are no words to articulate what he's experiencing, and for me to name it something mundane would be to rob it of its originality.

I know, some may read this and say, spank him and get it over with, he's throwing a fit. I may go there, but I likely take these many side roads along the way.

No ZIPPERS?

Consumer Product Safety Improvement Act = Utter Insanity



In this litigious world, I sometimes wonder just how safe we're going to have to get. I just learned from family that Goodwill and other thrift stores cannot sell clothing with zippers any more. Some law went into effect on Feb 1 that leaves vendors of zippered clothing liable for injury that might result from the deadly devices.



The CPSIA covers primarily lead paint issues, other related safety hazards. There are a great number of items to be pulled from the shelves unless they can be proven safe. Second hand stores cannot afford testing, processing, and propping themselves up legally like a mega-giant-big box retailer may. From everything I've read, it might just lead to the ruination of a great deal of small businesses resellers. Even if the CPS has let resellers off the hook, as I read allusions to, the word is not getting around locally.



Thrift stores in the Wichita area are taking wholesale safeguards. To prevent fines and litigation, they are ditching materials that even might be hazardous. (And this we have on good authority from a local thrift shop manager.) Thus pallets of perfectly good clothing is to be destroyed. Not given away. Not shipped to developing nations where people would enjoy the zippered clothes and have the good sense not to zip one's organ in the grinder. (And if they did, they would not sue someone for their own stupidity.)



Will there someday be a time when we are all wearing clothes fastened by velcro? Is there, perhaps, some inherent danger even in velcro?



Where does natural selection come in here, people? If someone is stupid enough to injure themselves with a zipper, do they not deserve it? Why should they be able to sue the manufacturer or vendor for a zipper catastrophe? How bad could it be, anyway? Have people died from zipper malfunction?



I know, I know, most of the hubbub is around lead that might be used in bangles, buttons and zippers...it's crazy that this even extends to children's books printed before 1985 which might have lead in their composition. Even libraries are affected!! I find this to be at the top of my 2009 list of STUPIDITY. I am a parent, and I'm all for the safety of my children. My kids aren't dumb enough to chew on zippers, buttons and books so very much they're getting lead poisoning. I'm sure I've even eaten my share of lead paint as a child, and ut dowuknd't uuufict mie yaaanni!



We should all just wear government-issue "safe" clothing and read only government-issued safe books.



Zippers were always too erotic anyway.

It took a long time to legislate them out!

What hurts a 3 year old...

(parental blathering, again)

I am protective of my kids, as most parents likely are...and when a bully gets to them or a television show scares them or...well, I'm there for them. Now sometimes my temper gets the best of me, and then I am the source of pain for my kids--that sends me into a tailspin of regret and gnashing of teeth.

The only time I get more angry is when some corporation (McDonalds, Wal-Mart, etc.) hurts my kids. They manipulate my kids all the time through ads, commercials, target marketing at knee-height, and so on. That, at least, I have learned to tolerate.

The other day, however, a large corporation that tours with Bob The Builder really chapped my hide. They were promoting Bob's big Wichita appearance, and that very day my wife liquidated my life insurance and bought us all tickets on row 2! Now, Carson, my 3 year old, loves Bob the Builder beyond measure. I think sometimes he patterns too much of his life around Bob, like those times when I find tools in bed with us...or times when he "fixes" things that do not need toddlers hammering on them. Bob, to Carson, is the icon of all things good and right with the world, and the chance to see Him Live--well, even Carson was speechless.

Alas, the corporate villains cancelled the show only a week later (thus, a week before the show) and my wife broke the news to Carson over supper. I have not seen him sob and weep like that EVER. (I don't think the other boys have ever been so distraught, either, for that matter.) It was terribly painful for us all.

So, what hurts a 3 year old? Broken promises. Cancelled appearances. Retracted offers. You should read my wife's blog to see just what the boys offered as their (violent) reactions and what they suggested for the show's promoters! This blog is too tame to list such things.

Dirt

I have found that I know next-to-nothing about dirt.

Every farmer/gardener worth his green thumb should know all about dirt. Even every-day folk who just have a flower pot on the porch ought to know a little something. Here I am, however, on a warm day in February and ready to get gardening--and I must admit I know nada.

Now, this is especially embarrassing as I did grow up on a farm. We had a large spread, however, over 3000 irrigated acres, and we tilled and fertilized Big Picture. I am not on that scale, and I do not want to use chemicals (herbicides and pesticides and fertilizers) unless I have to.

Thank goodness for the Internet.

I need to find an "ask stupid gardening questions" website. I have so many to pose...

For instance, yesterday my 3 year old and I discovered some very nice dirt, to my way of thinking. It was under leaves and decomposed branches and rot, altogether an area about the size of an average yard, I'd guess. The soil was black and what I'd call loamy (?). It resembled the stuff you buy in a bag, potting soil. I'm pretty sure it's The Good Stuff. Now I just have to figure out what to do with it.

We raked up a mighty pile of debris covering the Black Dirt. It seems like it would be good to help make my raised beds not so compacted. I'm thinking about doing a lasagna effect and alternating layers of the leafy decomposed stuff, the black dirt, some real bagged stuff, some top soil (I'm thinking to have a truckload delivered for multiple purposes) and maybe some of the grass clippings from the last 2 years...but I have no idea what order or how thick or if I'm making a bad mix...

...but I CAN read, and I WILL find out.

To me, this phase, the dirt, is the most essential. I really want to get it right.

I know real gardeners work on things year-around, but at least I've burned off an area in January and am now getting my dirt together in February...building raised beds in March (and likely starting to plant something maybe).

I cannot wait to get home and get raking/shoveling again today!

Virtual Victrola

...my internal iPod...

It annoys my spouse, I'm sure, and perhaps anyone else who's close enough to me to notice. I suppose I just Jones out once in a while, expressionless, maybe smiling. Sometimes I'm sure I hum...

Here's the thing. I always have music going in my head.

It's not like a voice in my head (though there are vocalists, so I guess...). It's not like I'm making things up, though I can take a tune, even a very complicated one, and twist and turn it around to recombobulate it, change the syncopation or the dynamics or the words or the instruments or...you get the idea.

At times I can get just a snippet of a tune I know, then I'm good for hours. Unlike my brother, the Rainman, I cannot tell you about artists, albums, eras--he can accurately recount all that for you. I cannot always recall lyrics with any shade of assurance. I can, most of the time, pull enough of a tune out that it keeps me occupied for a long while.

This is complicated by Jingles, which have more power over me than any other form of advertising, obviously. I can hear a Jingle once, and then be stuck with it all day. I can "accidentally" hear some song over a store's speakers, even elevator music, then find myself replaying it over and over, like it or not. I have to consciously rethink the tunes, change the mental playlist consciously, to over-ride the tune of the moment.

My music is also complicated by radio/channel changing friends/family. It hearkens back to Max Headroom's BlipVert issue. If someone is scanning through channels and I get just a clip of this, then that, then the other--eeesh. I may end up with a mash-up of it all going in my head. I can sometimes pick which one gets pulled to the front, or I can sometimes shut them all out with something more "popular" or well-known in my head, but other times I am simply overwhelmed.

Fortunately, that does not happen often. If I can attune myself to something else when the channel flipping is happening, then I'm okay.

I actually enjoy this bizarre "gift" of mine, most of the time. It allows me to wile away the hours and never be without a song in my heart. I worry, however, about getting older and losing more control of my head. I worry that songs may crowd out essentials (unless, perhaps, there is nothing more essential than a song in one's heart?). I agonize that I may get stuck on a Jingle, indefinitely. I wonder, more and more, if it's obvious to others that I'm listening to some soundtrack at the same time they are talking to me, that I'm having to consciously attend to them or let them be drown out my my music.

I worry, perhaps most of all, that I'm alone in this whole musical madness.

Clone my dog?

Headline on radio show today related a yellow lab was cloned in Korea for $150,000.

This is not the first instance of a pet being immortalized by being cloned. Apparently, this cloning generates a puppy that looks exactly like the original, even though it will grow up with a personality of its own. It truly IS the original, right down to the genetic makeup, but honestly folks, is there any being that's worth dubbing for $150,000? At my most arrogant, I would not want to be immortalized at any price.

I've been fond of some pets, sure, but I'd rather just go to the pound and save one from certain death. I'd rather just return to the kennel/breeder that brought me Roger , our beagle, than go to all the money, time and effort of having him cloned.

What's it say about our world when we're willing to sink that much cash into cloning a dog rather than feeding starving people or investing that money in education?

Jeepers!

Frank and Earnest

Before I was a parent, I would easily tire of proud parents yammering about their "special" children and gosh-darn cute things they'd say/do.

Now my wife and I grieve that we cannot capture everything. We want helmet cams to wear, and we'd like to wire the kids for 24/7 capture of those things they say, too. (Yes, even in their sleep.)

Something happened last Monday that inspired this entry: at the end of HomeSchool Group--a loose association of parents and kids who homeschool, getting together monthly for crafts and socializing--my son was saying bye to a buddy. The other guy hugged and kissed my son on the cheek. In that moment of embrace, when they were both so sincerely friends who'd miss each other, without a smidge of homophobia or reservations of public displays of affection, without any of the hands-off clutter that most of us in the USA are blocked by--they hugged and kissed.

Now, I could not do that with just anyone, no matter how much they meant to me, be they same sex/students, etc...there are Conditions on being old.

But for them, at that moment, being so frank in their friendship and feelings--beautiful.

Likewise, my boys are inclined to shout "Oh, Baby!" about the prospect of a bath or a walk on our trails...they are so excited, so earnest to live and move and Be...

...I've written in repeatedly, but we should all be more childlike.

I am utterly in Awe

In the course of this week, two folks sent me videos that astound me. Both of these give me cause to pause and marvel. The first is a floor routine that is like juggling, gymnastics, dance, and a whole lot of talent! At first I thought she was doing all this with a bowling ball!




This second video is exactly what I'd be doing with my time if I did not have any children depending on me for their future. What a trip it must be to "fly" like these folk! They are so very radical/crazy in what they do here! (I wonder if there is a military application for these suits, prolly so.)


wingsuit base jumping from Ali on Vimeo.

Altogether, I am inspired. About all I can do is walk and chew gum at the same time.