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.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Monday, July 27, 2009
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.
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.
Sunday, July 26, 2009
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!
...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!
Friday, July 24, 2009
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).
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).
Thursday, July 23, 2009
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.
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.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
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.
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.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
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.
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.
Friday, July 10, 2009
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
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
Thursday, July 09, 2009
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.
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.
Tuesday, July 07, 2009
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!
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!
Saturday, July 04, 2009
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.
Friday, June 26, 2009
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.
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.
Saturday, June 20, 2009
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!
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!
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
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.
Monday, June 15, 2009
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?
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?
Friday, June 12, 2009
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.
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.
Tuesday, June 09, 2009
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!
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!
Monday, June 08, 2009
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?
Otherwise, it's a fun tune to resurrect, eh?
Sunday, June 07, 2009
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.
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.
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