Will it matter in a hundred years? He often asked, in the face of frustrations anger worry… The question would make us pause And in the pause we could think reflect evaluate… Will it matter in a hundred years? With that question we set aside frustrations defused anger let go of worry Will it matter in a hundred years? Will it matter? Will it? This poem is written in response to Amy Ludwig Vanderwater’s blog at the poem farm:http://www.poemfarm.amylv.com/2021/07/someone-said-someone-said.html?m=1
Get the family on the boat It’s the 4th of July on the lake Pull away from the dock and Join the boat parade heading for the fireworks It’s the 4th of July on the lake Little sis, feet in tiny pink crocs and tiny pink headphones protecting her ears Ba-boom, ba-boom she sings out over and over As fireworks blast from yards along the shore Where decks are festooned in red, white, and blue It’s the 4th of July on the lake Big brother concentrates on his neon creation Linking together glowing rings to stretch from head to toe Until he looks like a miniature living firework It’s the 4th of July on the lake The boat is anchored and we sing along, God Bless the USA Bright colors burst into the sky and we enjoy the show Celebrating with families all around us Our country that we love It’s the 4th of July on the lake
A sad story has been in the news in Indiana. Birds are mysteriously dying. Songbirds. Robins, blue jays, grackles, starlings, and cardinals. First it happened in 5 counties, then 15, now it is up to 40. The birds have neurological symptoms of illness and swollen, crusty eyes. Tests are negative for Avian Flu and West Nile Virus. Research is underway to identify the cause.
Everyone has been advised to take bird feeders down. Social distancing for birds.
Since Spring this year, I have enjoyed birdsong in the mornings. Even as these reports began, I still have been hearing birds every morning. I took my two bird feeders down, though. It seemed, as it often does when you hear something on the news, it’s not going to happen to me.
First thing this morning my daughter texted: We have dead birds all over the sidewalks in our apartment complex.
If you know me at all, you would wonder why the statement “I read a book” would come with an exclamation mark. My family knows me as a reader, my friends know me as a reader, my colleagues know me as a reader. Even my students know I love reading. But as I’ve heard from others, during the pandemic, I have had long periods where I just didn’t read much. Not only that, but I didn’t have the same passion, the same “just one more chapter” feeling that has kept me reading late into the night so many times. I wasn’t reading with moments of laughing out loud or tearing up or thinking “what a great sentence, I need to write that down.”
This past week, though, “I read a book!” Consumed it in two days. Read into the wee hours, until I could not keep my eyes open another minute. I read a book, and I truly enjoyed the reading. I am going to share the book and some things I liked about it, but really the point here is more about the joy of reading. How sad it is to lose it, even for just awhile. The thrill and the deep satisfaction of experiencing it.
The book I just finished reading is Sobremesa: A Memoir of Food and Love in Thirteen Courses by Josephine Caminos Oria. It is a story filled with the crazy complications and simple love found in family life- including family ghosts. It is a fascinating glimpse into cultures- Argentine and the culinary world. Translanguaging throughout introduces many delightful Spanish sayings. (I think if I retain even a couple, using them would greatly increase my fluency in Spanish!) Some wonderful recipes are included, and the usual “number of servings” feature has a twist that is so much fun to read. The author’s realizations about family, love, and life are unique, yet familiar, inspiring reflection and connections to your own as you read.
I hope you, too, will have a reading experience that makes you exclaim, “I read a book!” When you do, be sure to share in a Slice!
We called them snowballs Although they appeared In summertime White circles Blooming On the green bushes In Grandma’s yard So tempting To pick And toss them But we Just never dared Grandma’s love For them And for us Greater Than temptation
I’ve been on vacation this week… on a trip to the beach. Sunshine. Sand. Waves. Dolphins. Balcony overlooking it all. Quiet sunrises. Glorious sunsets.
Well, really, I’ve been at school and home as usual. But my daughter and her hubby have been on their long awaited dream vacation. And the dream came true with perfect weather. With the condo that was as nice as advertised.
It has made me so happy to see them so happy. Beaming in the pictures they’ve sent. I’ve been on vacation this week…
A regrettable habit has crept into my morning routine. The snooze alarm. Like habits do, it has become entrenched and hard to break. I can analyze it and see some factors that led to it. I can think of so many benefits if breaking it. But lately, I can’t seem to resist the urge to sleep in “just a few more minutes.”
OK, the snooze alarm just went off (again) so I must wrap this up and get on with the day! Maybe a morning writing habit can replace the snooze.
Here is a poem I wrote a long time ago. As I was looking back through my blog I found I had written several times about watching storms with my dad. I also discovered that most times that I wrote about storms, light was there, too.
Tonight storms are rolling in
I hear the rumble coming closer
Raindrops begin to beat the roof
I stand on the porch with Dad
We watch the dark clouds
Lightning cracks the sky open
I face storms in life
Cleansing rains come
And streaks of light
I will remember
Here is another “stormy” poem from a long time ago:
Little Brown Bird
A little brown bird
Spied on a long black utility wire,
An expanse of forbidding dark gray sky
The little brown bird
Across the wire, tail bobbing up and down
His beak wide open, chirping
That little brown bird
Singing his cheerful song
Even as fat drops of rain began falling
One little brown bird
Like a herald of hope spreading a message-
Though storms come, believe our world will
More than a year of cloudy days. Grayness hanging over us. Thick and heavy clouds. And yet, light breaks through.
It was a long difficult week at school last week after the sudden death of one of our colleagues. We began the week with a crisis team at school with us for two days. By midweek, we had details about the funeral. It was held on Sunday.
Our principal spoke and shared memories from the staff. She concluded with a note from one of our students (a fifth grader). This teacher was married to another teacher at our school. They had been married only a year and a half. The student said “when we would be in the hall and he saw her, his eyes would turn into a heart.” It really was true, so much changed in him and he was a much happier person in the last few years.
The pastor who gave the message used notes from our teacher’s own study Bible. He shared verses that were highlighted and his personal notes. It was amazing. The loss has been difficult, but with the words and tributes of Sunday, healing begins.