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Well, any regular reader of this blog knows I am inclined to lament and regret, and this is surely a situation for just that: we are no longer in the business of baby-making.

Rejoice all ye champions of population control, common sense, reduced carbon footprint, etc.

I look across my desk at the family portrait, however, and sigh. *sigh* My wife and I make good kids, and though we have a bunch of them (4, for you new folk), it's killing me that we stopped there. Each of my children is so very unique, so very precious, so...cool. They have personalities that never-cease to astound me. They are independent little thinking machines that teach me daily. They seem--from my biased perspective--to be pretty smart.

I'd argue that we've been good for the collective gene pool, and it's sorrowful to have to stop now. I'd argue that our mad breeding has made the world a better place, and that there should be a nation of my offspring, like the sands of the--well, you get the idea. I like my kids, I think we're good folks, and I am having trouble adapting to this new hard line of "no more kids!"

I remember just a few years ago, I was baffled by my buddy who then had six kids and wanted more. I thought he was nuts. Now he and his wife are going to have a seventh, his oldest is something like 18. That means he's been doing diapers for almost two decades! What person in their right mind would do such a thing? A parent who really likes parenting--someone like me, now-a-days.

Heck, I can still remember not wanting ANY KIDS. I held that line for 20 years into my breeding years. According to a recent release, it's going to cost contemporary parents about $200 grand per child to bring their kid through age 17! Gadzooks! Who could AFFORD kids anymore?

On the other hand, when you feel the love, know the joy, reflect and bask regularly in all-things parenting, it's easy to come full-circle like I have, to wonder how one could NOT afford it, or how one might afford to live w/o parenting.

I know, I know, I'm still only 7 years into it. I've had a non-stop stream of people wagging their heads and forewarning me of how terrible it is yet to get. People laugh at me that my youngest will be graduating when I'm in my mid-sixties. Evil is coming, I am told.

I say, bring it.

I spoke briefly with my wife about becoming barren, and she told me that the kids we have provide an infinite opportunity to love and be loved. (She also said, eventually, we could always adopt!)

I know all that, too...but it does not make this new era any easier.

Potency of Infancy

Women are servants of men, have no rights. Children should be seen not heard. Certain races are not human and therefore subject to slavery. Certain religions are supreme and thus any act can be justified (ie war, crusades, genocide, etc). Nuclear fallout isn't any big deal (Bikini island experiments). Petroleum will last forever (muscle cars and American lifestyles). We live in a geo-centric universe.

The above ideas, and so very many more, have proven to be archaic. I would offer that, likewise, we will some day see that we did not take something else to heart: the potency of infancy. By this, I mean that the ages of birth to five are such significantly formative years! What does the world do about this knowledge?

Well, there are a few products out there (of course, if money can be made...) that supposedly stimulate the brain, engage the senses or motor skills. There are special cribs, gyms, toys...for older babies, there are CD's and DVD's that are sure to make a child smarter by exposing them to Mozart, etc.

Other than these stray product-oriented leanings, our culture does little. In the US, lucky parents are given a "generous" six weeks to get back on their feet after a child is born. (In some European nations, it ranges up to two years!) Our schools are still geared to industrial revolution standards of workforce development. We drop kids in daycare or kindergarten without a second thought...and have you seen what passes for "educational television" these days?

If we put the attention on those first five years, what could come of it? If we pressed like we did with the space race in the 1960's or the fear-driven new millennium (remember the threat of computers crashing?)...if we were thoughtful and intentional in our lifestyles and careers to put more and more spin, emphasis, and love into rearing children--what would the world be like later?

Regardless of whether there's any truth to the claim that we learn the most in the first 5 years, we'd still be generating kids that knew love and had respect ladled on them. One of my colleagues said that's what's wrong with the current generation, that they were so pampered and "loved" that they now feel entitled to always get "A's" and have the mentality they can do no wrong. I am not at all arguing to envelop kids in a bubble of warm-fuzzies. I am urging us to stand our culture on its head, to take infancy seriously. I really wonder what could come of it?

It's a conviction I have, yet I sit here at work twiddling my thumbs while my kids, my investment, go fallow. *sigh*

Wordle

I used this in my syllabus!

Turn off the moon, daddy

Not long ago, we went camping. It was a beautiful evening, the best weather all summer. We opted not to put the rainfly on the tent so we could watch the stars. It was a great decision. As I was dozing, I was enjoying the light show of the occasional falling star (the start, I later learned, of the Perseids meteor shower!). Some of the family was snoring. My youngest boy, however, was restless. He kept rolling around. Finally, exasperated, he asked sleepily: "Could you turn off the moon, daddy?"

That is so cool. No matter how powerless I may feel to prevent them from getting a skinned knee or a broken heart...no matter how weak and insecure I may be as a parent...they think I can control even the very Moon, itself! I remember them asking me, likewise, to make it day time again, to make the day last longer, to make it stop raining, snowing, etc...

I know, some day they will see me in my true colors and come to realize I am not omnipotent. They will likely think I'm something of a boob. For now, however, it's pretty cool that they look to me for all this. (And no, I don't deceive them and keep them believing I can rule the world, much as I'd like to--I'm honest with them...most of the time.)

New Desk--is it really ME?

A big new desk can make a guy feel pretty good. This one is big enough for a twin bed mattress, by the look of it. I also got a matching lateral file I'll never completely fill and a credenza that has been a good 2nd desk already. All of this is brand-spankin' new from my employer...otherwise, you who know me know I'd never have it. I couldn't afford it, and it's out of character for me.

So why did I request it? Well, I am not the same man as my teacher persona, and he thrives on such things (ties, new pens, retractable pointers...). For him, a new desk was a necessity, for the old one was hampering his style. It makes him think more of himself (like that was possible).

Like new tools or getting the car washed, a new desk is likely just a guy thing. I am coming to embrace it as my own, regardless of how garish, expensive, large...I'm learning to tolerate Mr. J's extravagances. I'm finding it's just cool to have something like it here in this otherwise humdrum office environment.

I've nothing much to compare this to, for most every office I've ever had was cramped and packed with old furniture salvaged from the hallways. There was one year I worked for a college that opened a new building, and they gave me a new office with all new trappings there--but it did not sit well with me, and I defected to a basement office I had to equip from garage sales (overall more consistent with the real me, who at that time was all-of-me, a bleeding heart volunteer manager).

These days, embracing my teacher-self and my old hippy nature, I don't see "us" putting this desk ensemble to the curb any time soon.

Cars--a chronology

1976 inherited a 1971 Ford Ranchero, 351 C, cobrajet heads
1978 bought a 1971 AMC Javelin
1979 bought a 1977 Pontiac Grand Prix
1980 bought an old Ford Pinto station wagon
1981 bought an older Ford Pinto hatchback
1991 bought a Chevy El Camino
1993 bought a Nissan Pickup
1996 borrowed a Chevy Pickup
1999 bought a GMC Suburban (at a garage sale)
2001 bought a Ford F150
2004 bought a Mazda 626
2004 borrowed a Chevy Pickup
2006 bought a Dodge Grand Caravan
2007 bought a Dodge Avenger
2007 bought a Chevy Blazer

Hollow Heads

I cannot (take the time to) count how many posts I've made about mediocrity and television, but I don't think I've put the two topics together yet, so here goes...

Television broadcasts, programs, "presentations," and what-have-you are really only the vehicle carrying the stock and trade of the industry: commercials. The entire medium is simply a conduit for commercial delivery. Reviewing old commercials and old broadcasts (or sadly, just recollecting them, being old enough to have seen early TV) reveals this truth pretty frankly. "We'll be back after these commercial messages..." was an honest transition into the meat of the matter. Commercials were blunt and straight forward, more product centered, more honest in their delivery, "Don't you want to drive a Buick?" It was an odd balance people tolerated because the medium was new and shiny. As time has passed, the content between the commercials has come to act like it owns the show. It feels to viewers like the commercials are interruptions.

TV has undergone an interesting evolution. Now (if you ask me) more time, talent and money is spent on the production of commercials than on what lies between. About all that's in the middle any more is reality shows, low budget competitions that dull the mind to even recount: Are you smarter than a 5th grader, Biggest Loser, Big Brother...

I rant about this because I know so many people who remain transfixed by television (some even in my own household). Last night I brought up that much of what they are addicted to can be viewed online, on demand, but it fell on deaf ears (I believe there was some funny commercial attracting attention).

I worry about my kids, as I know I've shared before, but I also worry about my older family members. When they finally rise up from the couch or easy chair, the conversation is either about television or some random gossip. There is no meat. There aren't even any potatoes. It's draft.

I sometimes think hard times would be better for America, right down to my own household. I'm talking really hard times, where all this blogging would have to again be in a journal, hardcopy. All our entertainment would be what fun we could make out of breaks in our back-breaking work, where gardening would be for survival instead of good karma. I wonder if then we'd somehow become better people, a better nation? Conversations might turn toward things of the spirit or at least real life.

I wish I could find some way, short of going back in time 100 years, to help people become the best they can be. A first step, in my thinking, is to be wary of the television, to own it rather than be owned by it.

Carnage: "Cash for Clunkers"

I had heard a little about this government scheme to bolster auto sales and get gas guzzlers replaced with fuel-efficient cars. The gimmick sounded okay, seemed like a win/win. It's obviously been a hit with consumers, for the first billion set aside for that went fast! Finally a stimulating stimulus that gets down to the grass roots, or at least hits the pavement of Everywhere, America.

Then I learned they crush the cars turned in.

This seems immoral to me. What about the carbon foot print of that vehicle, to produce, distribute, etc. it in the first place? If it had another 10 years in it, why not wring that out of it? Ohhhhhhh that just chaps my hide.

I am, of course, a fan of old cars, one who idealizes salvage yards...generally, I'm a pack rat. I know there's talk of "recycling" the raw material of these cars.

It's just such wholesale destruction. Carnage!

What will kids drive? What will poor folk like me drive? If all the clunkers are crushed, then what cars will populate the lots of "Rent a Wreck?"

Behold, my first car, my grandfather's Ranchero:



I wish I could fire up a militant group of motor heads, but, alas, there are few shade tree mechanics who would flame over disposing of "modern day" cars of the 80's or 90's--things of plastic and tin that are too computerized to play with. Real motor heads are contentedly working on their muscle cars and vintage autos.

Nonetheless, it feels like we're disposing of cars with life left in them. Similarly, people are put out to pasture (some day to be crushed?) when they are at an age deemed "retirement." I have a couple retired folks under my roof...I think it's a death sentence. It makes one feel old. I don't believe in retirement of anything, I guess, not people, not cars, not even clothes. (Give them to Goodwill!)

Wayne

I am collecting words that resonate. Maybe some day I'll have the skill to put them together in a poem.

I also collect names that strike me some way or another. For instance, I think the surname Thigpen just sounds like an antagonist. I find any variation of -wright to it to sound pretty good: Wheelwright, Oldwright, Wright...

One first name that seems to be empowered with lots of added value, in my life anyway, is Wayne. This name was my grandfather's middle name, and has since been employed as the middle name for my cousin, my brother, and sort of my son (Dwayne). I've written about my grandfather's importance in my life/mind many times before. I've known a couple of first-name Wayne's who have made a difference in my life, too. Wayne McD was a neighbor of mine, a guy who truly taught me what being neighborly is all about. He worked in a saw mill for decades out in California before returning to his roots in Kansas. I had the good fortune of going with him on a fishing trip and hunting for his family homestead in Missouri. Wayne McD was in his 60's when I knew him, and he'd had strokes, a bad heart, etc...but he manicured his lawn and he played online games religiously. Wayne S was another prominent Wayne in my life, serving as a most important mentor in my days as a volunteer coordinator. He emphasized that no meeting should go over an hour (and to prove the point, he'd walk out of mine if they went long). He was a great community activist, starting a chapter of Habitat (inspiring me to start a companion campus chapter). He got me involved in a book club, which I will always cherish, too.

Most of those Wayne's are gone now, but their impact on me will never be forgotten. Wayne is certainly a name I'll treasure.

First Day

TODAY was my son's first day out of the house for school--he's homeschooled. In the summer, we enrolled him in "kids' college" so he can continue socialization and hob nobbing with his peer group. He's been in swimming lessons, but we were always shore-side, just in case. Now, today, he's been dropped off alone, and I'm on pins and needles. I know he will fare well, but it's such a transition (likely more of one for me than him)!

I can only vaguely recall my kindergarten year, being dropped off and left alone by my parents at school; however, we were with our car pool cohorts, so that was easy-enough. My boy is a-l-o-n-e...

I can distinctly recall being dumped off at a dorm for college. As I remember it, the tires squealed as the car careened away, parents waving out the windows. It was the most lonely day in my life.

I hope my boy never feels that.

Tree Slayer

Yesterday I spent an hour with a bucket truck and a chain saw, trimming trees around my barn. I was slow-moving since I have such a love for trees. I felt awful trimming any branch, let alone bigger limbs. They were raking against the roof, in the line of power lines (newly installed now) and otherwise looming over things, promising to crush my out building with the first heavy snow...

...still, I cut a limb as thick as my thigh, from a wild hedge tree that had grown up between the buildings, wrapped itself around one, virtually. It has hugged that shed for what must be fifty years now, and in 50 seconds, I severed it, forever. The limb was graceful, a living work of art--the hacked limb is an ugly, mechanically gnawed stub.

I have continued my evil ways in the garden. I'm working on a Giant Pumpkin (see other entries) and one rule of thumb is to remove all but one potential giant per vine. Ultimately one is to remove all competing vines, leaving one feeder for the one giant pumpkin. Well, since I was already guilty, I went at my pumpkins, too.

I guess, if there were a greener side to this, I am going to attempt to salvage the suckers and small branches for a green wood weaving project (my boys' fort is made of woven branches). And, the pumpkin should be a whopper. One of the discards was five pounds itself!

Anticipation

I am one who anticipates. That is, I look forward to things. In this, I seem to get more out of something than I would if I just found myself in the middle of something happening and said, "wow." Here's how it goes: I'm up overnight revved up for action, ready to go. I am currently on such a high looking forward to trimming trees from a bucket truck, mowing my yard, and running electrical lines to our barn. Geez. That's what I so eagerly anticipate? (I remember the days I'd be looking forward to spending the weekend with a girlfriend.)

I try to suppress my enthusiasm sometimes, like when I'm anticipating a good movie release--to protect myself. What if it's a dud film? I self-govern, too, for my anticipation sometimes rattles the nerves of my loved ones. All I can think of is when Clark Grizwauld went to Wally World--I have melt downs something like that when I've anticipated something so very much, then been let down.

Some live their whole lives self-governing and otherwise choking back enthusiasm, for that let-down-feeling is too much for them. They cannot afford the vulnerability. If I lived so prophylactically, I'd be bored. I'd miss much of the juice of life, I think.

Enough of this, I think I'll do a tree assessment from memory (like counting sheep).

Willow arbor planting

Death and Dogma

My 3 year old misted up when one of our farm cats was reported dead on the road, but he did not otherwise seem too affected by her passing. That surprised me, as much as he loves animals. He keeps asking me about death. He talks to me about death as if he Knows Things. For example, about a year ago, he said, "I will be big when you are dead." Another: "Your daddy is dead and you will be dead, too." More recently, he's been asking things like: "Will I see you again when you are dead?" and "If you die, do you come back?"

On the one hand, readers likely are saying, "Awww...cute little kid mindset." I'll buy that. He's fishing around with vocabulary and concepts and trying to wrap his head around a Big One.

OR maybe he's exceptionally insightful and helping me deal with death, since after all, it's one of those concepts I never stop thinking about.

What if death were flexible based on one's perspective? If his reality, his perception of death was simply that one's body decomposed but the true Them lived on to revisit family and friends--well, what's wrong with that? I know many people who adhere to various walks of faith to cling to the concept of a rosy after life, but most of those versions of Tomorrow do not include haunting around one's previous lifestyle, like my son's view. Some find comfort in "knowing" what their ever-after will be, based on their religion. They especially like the idea that their deceased loved ones are not simply gone--they're "up there" waiting to be reunited, etc, etc, etc. I think it would be great if the afterlife you conceive is the afterlife you achieve. For those who think we're nothing but worm food, well, there ya' go. For those who dread the torments of hell, then "BOO!" If your afterlife is to be recycled or if it's to allow you to come around from time to time, then swell, go to it.

I really like it that all three of my kids entertain ideas on the edges, concepts that are beyond Legos and Wonderpets. At this stage of the game, I don't feed them dogma. Instead I tease out of them their varied perspectives and try to appreciate them for what they are: unvarnished and unaffected explorations of the very issues that all of us have come through. They share honest questions and insights, and I listen and share my own musings. Maybe that's bad parenting, not having all the answers like Wikipedia-on-demand. Maybe I'm letting go of too much Power by not being perceived by them as the know-it-all.

On the other hand, I might be privy to more of their minds by not always calling every shot.

Another Semester...and a Lament

Thursday will be the end of summer courses. Like my students, I'm very relieved. It's been a whirlwind trip, requiring me to grade 40-50 essays weekly--eeeeshh! My head aches to just reflect over that.

Like always, however, I'm ill-at-ease about the changing seasons, the days that churn by so very fast, the End of Summer...I guess it's better that I lament than if I were simply one who was callous or oblivious. I certainly feel these days passing.

I rededicate myself every term to exit gracefully, to regroup confidently, and to forge ahead. I mark every seasonal change with a song in my heart (even if it's sometimes a whimper) and I move ahead. It's not easy moving on.

Unrelated: I hate being poor. Yesterday I had the chance to get a FREE HOUSE, an entire HOUSE. It was not quite ready to live in, and it had to be moved 30 miles to my place, but still...a mid-20's farmhouse with lots of great wood and charm. I loved walking through the adjoining rooms, looking out the old-time windows (some glass rippled with age), imagining what life had been like in that home. I so enjoyed my visit to the place, that reason has taken a back seat. I know, I have no way to pay for moving the house, no way to pay for a foundation to set it on once here, no way to pay for all the remodeling, plumbing, electrical, etc. that must be done to the place--but all that aside, I really, really want that house. It would be so perfect attached or adjacent to our current farm house, giving our huge family more elbow room (MUCH NEEDED) and adding to the ambiance of the whole place. Alas, it is not to be so, I guess, unless I win the lottery.

Rodeo

Last night, in spite of the storm, we took our family to Kansas' largest night rodeo, the Pretty Prairie Rodeo. It was a blast from the past. Other than a rather amusing mix of music between events, the night could have been set in 1970 or so. I know I'm waxing nostalgic and that I tend toward idealizing things, but that little event was very Mayberry in my books. Oh, sure, there were some bizarro types there (aren't they everywhere?) and as always there were over-priced concessions and other elements of greed, but otherwise, it was a trip down memory lane. The people were My People and thus, of course, pleasant to be around.

I noted a whole subculture that I've not paid much attention to, I guess, since my own childhood: The Aggie. There were girls in Ropers (hot) and boys with big buckles. Parents encouraged their kids to ride sheep and grandparents spoke of the days before electronic score boards and cell phones. The rodeo clown's humor was rural but enjoyable. The kids were all told to "cowboy up" whenever they fell in the mud or bounced down the bleachers. Everyone wore Wrangler jeans and Justin boots. Real participants were lean and lanky.

Okay, I'm no rodeo guy, and at the moment, my only livestock = cats/dogs. I wear cheap boots to keep the snakes and chiggers off my ankles and I don't even own a pair of Wranglers...but, all that aside, I felt comfortable with these people. I, personally, do not find the sport to be animal abuse.

I do, however, find it to be a sport. We sat next to the bull riding gates, and I was watching the guys prep for their 8 seconds. They looked every-bit like an athlete in any other sport, running through rituals, taping up, getting their game on. The difference is that a rodeo cowboy has a two thousand pound adversary, not some peer, to grapple with. While a baseball game may take several hours, a rodeo event seldom runs over a minute.

The best part of the whole event was: my boys. The eldest went grudgingly, griping the whole time about how bored he would be. ...then after, he was so very engaged, he was already making commitments for next year's rodeo and wants to find others to go watch! The middle boy was pumped up from the first mention of it until he fell asleep on the way home. The youngest was excited throughout the event, though he did not say much. If I had any doubt we should get some livestock, it's gone now. I know they are eager to have some animals around.

The boys will drop into some subculture, some stereotypical clique sometime....there's worse ways to end up than an Aggie.

Found a Poem..

I'm working over this poem for myself, hoping to get back to it here for some explication/rumination...meanwhile, I thought I'd share it w/you!

we shall not cease from exploration
and the end of our exploring
will be to arrive where we started
and know the place for the first time.
through the unknown, remembered gate
when the last of earth left to discoveri
s that which is the beginning;
at the source of the longest riverthe voice of the hidden waterfall
and the children in the apple-tree
not known, because not looked for
but heard, half-heard, in the
two waves of the sea.
--T.S. Eliot

Over 1/2 way...*sigh*

I just realized today that my summer is almost over, that I'm over 50 days out, and have only 30 days left. It seems I've done nothing, accomplished nothing, just dinked around. I really hate that.

I guess I've been building a new course, and I've been building a carport, too. I've maintained the farm (mostly) and done lots of gardening. I've spent quite a bit of time w/my family.

I haven't traveled. I haven't got my house in order. I have yet to get that playground built or the trees trimmed or the basement fixed or...

This entry is a bummer.

Maybe a guy can blame anxiety on These Modern Times, the culture that puts watches on our wrists and seconds on our microwaves. I bet back in the day, folks measured time more by days than hours, and even then more by seasons than days. A trip to town would be a day trip or an over-nighter. Things were more Intentional. Things were likely more valued.

Today I read an article on how our culture has such an excess of food we don't value it; we take it for granted. I've mentioned the slow food movement before, and I admire it. I've also read about attempting to have a meal from all-local foods (no bananas flown in from the Bahamas). I admire that, too. Getting to that point, even for a meal as an object lesson, is a good idea.

Back in my hometown they have a "home products dinner" that's entirely local produce. I think I might like to visit that again (last time was in the 70's). I admire it, now.

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.