Summer
September 21, 2008
Holy Chrismation
Time for boys to become men
Christian Bar Mitzvah.
The highlight of my own confirmation (Chrismation) was asking my barber to be my Confirmation sponsor. The ritual and preparation paled in comparison to the bond that ocurred between John Basile and myself. He was the most Christ like person I knew. I was only in 6th grade at the time, but I knew in my heart that he was more like Christ than any one else I knew. His goodness, kindness and humility nutured my own development . John was a gift from the Holy Spirit.
Now it is time for Scotty, David, and Steve to enter into Confirmation. I hope and pray that it is a meaningful experience. For most young Catholics it is an empty ritual they must participate in because their parents make them. I’m hoping that my boys decide for themselves if they want to become adult Catholics. It is up to them. If they are not ready to make the decision, then they can wait and decide when they are ready, if ever.
September 20, 2008
68 to 6
Catholics slaughter the publics
A pigskin pogrom.
In our local football league there are the “haves” and “have nots.” One of our extra sons is a running back for one of the “haves”. He plays second string and gets in after his team is up by 40 or more points. I felt bad for the other team, but he ran for 14 of the 68 points. Life is unfair, and football especially so.
September 19, 2008
Two friends getting old
A lifetime of memories
Which he remembers.
Thank you Joe Kent for all those things I can’t remember. What I do recall is that you have enriched my life and are my true friend. I love you and happy birthday.
September 18, 2008
Political noise
Deafening to the conscience
Can’t hear the issues.
September 17, 2008
Sons around table
Hearing stories of our past
Slightly edited.
One of the great joys of parenthood is passing on the stories to the next generation. The dining room table is often the place where oral tradition is carried on. Fast food restaurants don’t exactly provide the ideal setting, but even they don’t prohibit sharing family lore. Not everyone is interested, but in most families there usually exists at least one person who tends to collect the tidbits of time. This chronicler must be nurtured and fed with a regular diet of family recollections.
September 16, 2008
Wall Street hurricane
Credit crisis tidal wave
Trickle down deluge.
If I had a stock portfolio I would check it out. I know little about macro-economics, but I do know that bail outs of Freddie, Fanny, and now AIG are not signs of a robust economy. We are reaping what we have sown and some of us, corporate CEOs for example, are just reaping. The Lehman’s Brothers’ top executive will land safely while 5000 people lose their jobs. Merril Lynch’s bull has been romping through the china shop and everything is in pieces.
September 15, 2208
Cool damp in my bones
The sky blanketed in grey
Time to eat some soup.
The coming of the fall brings me comfort. Autumn is a time for walks down by the river, raking ( as a penitential rite), poetry, and soup. Soup reminds me of my father. He loved it. Soup and bread made him happy. He made me happy. When I eat soup I remember him.
September 14, 2008
Triumph of the cross
Instrument of salvation
Vict’ry over death.
Today is the Feast of the Cross. Over time the symbol and reality of a cross has lost its meaning. Today it serves as a piece of religious jewelry. Perhaps the Feast of the Lethal Injection or the Feast of the Electric Chair would better express the historical significance of this symbol. The sign of the cross is used by Christians throughout the world everyday, but often it is made without much thought of its original context.
The Cross is a paradox. It was the means by which Jesus died as well as, theologically speaking, the instrument through which death is overcome. Death, whether by crucifixion, old age, natural disaster, or whatever, is the ultimate reality most people want to avoid. The denial of death is a personal and social preoccupation. So the fact that many Christians wear it around their necks makes you wonder.
I once took a class entitled Thanatological Soteriology. It’s a fancy phrase for death and salvation. For six months we probed the mysteries of both topics and their relationship. Most of the students were totally bored and uninterested. I was interested and confused.
My professor stressed that Christians need to embrace death in order for it to lose its power over us. It is strange to celebrate something that caused so much suffering and pain throughout history. So make the sign, make your peace and give the Grim Reaper a hug.
September 13, 2008
Leaves begin to fall
One hundred years of hopes rise
Mid-September dream.
As a baseball fan, I’m rooting for the Cubs to make it to the World Series this year. As a White Sox fan, I hope they meet us and lose.
September 12, 2008
Ancient gods awake
Set a course for destruction
Death out of the depths.
The warming of the earth has awakened the ancient gods of destruction. Nun, Ghede, Kali and the whole horde of havoc causing deities have gone for a swim in the Gulf . Those foolish enough to stay behind need more than our prayers to ward off the onslaught of wind and water. The gods of global warming are upon us, get to higher ground!
September 11, 2008
Seven year old tears
Escape through my memories
Aquifer of grief.
I was at school when it happened. I spent each class providing whatever answers and insight I could muster. My lesson included information about Islam and why people from the Mid-East would try to hurt us. I did my best to explain to my students that the people who did this were extremists who used religion to spread terror. The T.V. replayed the footage of the planes crashing into the World Trade Center, showed the crumbling of the two towers, the destruction at the Pentagon, and the remains of flight 93.
The footage failed to show the worst part, the thousands of lives lost. Throughout the day the media saturated the news briefings with vivid images . The students were appalled as well as enthralled by the destruction and death. Eventually, I just turned the T. V. off and we talked about how we need to stop violence wherever it exists.
I remember the silence. After the shock and horror of the attacks everything quieted down. My emotions were numb. The next day I recall being outside in the front yard. It was a perfectly clear day, the sun was shining brightly. Not a cloud or a trail was in the sky . Air traffic had been halted. I had never seen or heard an empty sky. There had always been someone high above, but not now. We had become like the rest of the world ~ vulnerable. Our sense of national security was obliterated. The events of September 11th changed everything. On that day we joined the rest of the world in the state of uncertainty.
September 10, 2008
Palinphobia
Worried about polar bears
And the human race.
Gov. Palin may be witty, a maverick, and a great choice for McCain, but there is no way she is the person who should be a heart beat away from the most powerful political position in history. Her inexperience in the realm of foreign policy is scary. Give us Condolesa Rice, Olympia Snowe, Kay Bailey Hutchison, ~ someone who is familiar with global politics and has spent enough time in Congress to know how thing work and don’t work. McCain’s choice was a strategic move to shock the election. He achieved his goal. Can someone now find a replacement VP candidate for the republicans who doesn’t cause nightsweats?
September 9, 2008
Big Bang revival
Aiming at the Beginning,
Might be last haiku.
Somewhere under Switzerland and France the biggest particle accelerator ever built becomes operational today. The scientists involved with the CERN project are hoping to recreate the events that occurred at the Big Bang, or more precisely, a trillionth of a second afterwards. Rumors about the end of the world are spreading all over the universe, and throughout the parallel universe which will be revealed once the time space continuum is ripped apart. So get outside before it is gone and put on clean underpants. This will make up for what didn’t happen at the millenium.
September 8, 2008
Teacher without class
Pedagogical limbo
Learning to let go.
I have a student teacher this semester. He is really good. I have discovered, again, the value of letting go. I have set up shop in the hall. I have a window I can peak in to make sure he is not being tortured. There is a delicate balance a teacher must keep if he or she is hosting a student teacher. You need to be their to provide insight and support, but you also want to remain at a distance in order for your student teacher to have a realistic experience of teaching on their own.
So, for the next couple of months I will be in the hall. I’ll be available to help with discipline issues, evaluate his lesson plans and observe his teaching from time to time. I think he is well on his way to doing an excellent job. As for me, I think I need to write my own goals and objectives for what I plan to accomplish and learn while in the hall.
September 7, 2008 ~ Sacred Sunday
Love one another
Commandments summed up in this
Fulfillment of Law.
Jesus wasn’t very original when he spoke. The core of his message is made up of a few lines from Deuteronomy and Leviticus. He was a minimalist and the last thing on his wish list was probably a Holy Roman Empire. We have wandered far from the teachings of this itinerant preacher carpenter. I don’t think he was very interested in religion or hierarchies or how many angels could fit on the head of a pin. Mostly, he wanted to help us to love. He taught us to love everyone, including our enemies. All the dogma and catechism throughout history sounds like gibberish in comparison.
September 6, 2008
Saturday soccer
Roman Catholic parish wars
Saints battle on field.
The ref goes to their church.
September 5, 2008
Friday night football
A new new season in the air
Fans wearing sweatshirts.
I sat in the stands watching my “extra son” watching the game from the sidelines. 47-10 with 10 minutes left and I was getting disgusted that the first string was still on the field. Up to my chinstrap with coaches who care more about running up scores than building up the confidence of bench players, I was about to burst. Suddenly, I hear the joy of a little brother yell, “There he is, he’s on the field.” I looked up to see my “extra son” take the hand off and scamper 10 yards toward the goaline. A cheer rose from the crowd and we screamed his name in celebration.
September 4, 2008
Palin packs a punch
Uppercut for Obama,
Can’t hit a lady.
Sarah Palin is assertive, articulate, and formidable. For all republican purposes, her speech was an overwhelming success. She has been put in an almost untenable situation. Governor Palin has been asked to both inspire emotion, quell nerves , and capture votes. A tall order no matter how many moose you have downed.
Going after large mammals with a high powered rifle is not a skill that is transferable to a political campaign. Her mockery of Barack Obama’s experience as a community organizer is either due to inexperience or ignorance of how the democratic process really works. To mock those who have worked with the powerless is elitism. What has made America better throughout its history, are the efforts of the few who have worked for the benefits of the many.
It was the people in the thirteen colonies who murmured discontent and organized themselves who gave birth to our nation. The American Spirit that moved revolutionaries also hovered over the efforts of the abolitionists who organized to end slavery. Laborers gained better working conditions through the efforts of those who organized on their behalf. Women who organized their communities gained the right to vote. Martin Luther King Jr. may have been employed as a preacher, but he acted as a community organizer as he brought together a coalition of Americans to rid our country of racism. If Republicans are so focused on the average American, they should be kinder to those who have worked to make the American dream more of a reality.
I take offense at Governor Palin’s mockery of Obama’s career. John McCain fully understands that soldiers on the ground make a real difference in a war. Community organizers fight in the trenches in a different type of conflict. To not understand their contribution is to not understand the political process.
September 3, 2008
The Moons and Mornings
Antiphon of life and death
The open and close.
In the evening they open and close, in the morning they close and open. My front yard is a tag team bloom of beauty. Entwined, they provide a 24/7 display of purple and white. The Moon flowers and Morning Glories have kicked us off the sidewalk again. Nature rules our garden and our lives. We attempt to restrain it with a futile weeding now and then, but in the end it rolls over us like a wave.
September 2, 2008
Gustav saves the day
Bush, Cheney cancel speeches
Damage limited.
Gustav has caused inconvenience, loss of property, flooding and even death. There are no positives associated with this storm, except if you are a republican. The delegates to the RNC were probably elated to find out that George and Dick would not be in attendance. Now they are probably hoping for a solar flare to temporarily knock out satellite communication.
September 1, 2008
Eight hours a day
Decent pay and benefits
Thank the Union Maid.
I worked for a non-union shop for thirteen years. Management did fine, but the workers received sub-standard pay, lousy benefits and often felt discriminated by the fat cats who ran things. My former employees spoke about the rights of workers out of one side of their mouths, while perpetuating injustice against them on a daily basis. We needed a union, but the goons and ginks claimed that God was on their side and were willing to send troublemakers to hell.
Now I am a member of the NEA. The reason why teachers make good wages is due to the power of unionized workers. Without a teachers union , classrooms would be stuffed to the ceilings and students would be wanting for supplies. I’m not interested in going on strike, but I will if I have to.
So, next time you hear someone complaining about a union, please give them a short history lesson about child labor abuses, workplace safety laws, the benefit of the minimum wage, and the five day, forty hour work week. If they still keep complaining, tell them to “shove it” for me.
August 31, 2008
Duped by religion
Created by men, not God,
I will not conform.
It has always seemed a bit presumptuous to me to speak in the name of “God.” Religion, take your choice, does this all the time. If what God has to say is “love your neighbor,” or “do good to others” its fine. But, when religion, speaking in the name of God, says things like ” gays and lesbians are sinful,” or “kill those people because they are heretics” that’s when religion turns satanic.
I plan to rely on my conscience to discern God’s will. I’ll take into consideration the collected wisdom of the ages, but in the end, as Merton mentioned, I am on my own.
August 30, 2008
Katrina’s boyfriend
Heading north for a visit,
Unwelcomed guest.
If you are someone who believes that prayers can alter weather patterns, you might want to say some. Nature’s wrath and God’s power are the recipe for uncertainty. Why do bad things happen to good cities? Hopefully the Bush administration will be better prepared to deal with the aftermath this time. Brownie’s gone, but George is still in charge. Wherever this monster hits will creat devastation. Let us all be quick to respond to those in Gustav’s path.
August 29, 2008
McCain makes his choice
Gun toting maverick momma
Miss Wasilla wins.
McCain made a historic choice and a political blunder. The experience question is now off the ballot box. Sarah Palin may be everything the republican faithful is making her out to be, but there is no way to spin experience out of a two year stint as a governor. Her personality will wow the crowd at the Excel Energy Center, but the rest of America will show less enthusiasm as they ponder the possibility of President Palin taking the oath on Air Force 1. Not that it maters, but Mrs. Palin looks great. Her good looks and youthful appearance is an asset, just as long as she is not standing next to her new boss.
August 28, 2008
No longer a dream
America is again
New course of events.
John Lewis was the youngest speaker at the March on Washington. He was 23 and spoke a little before Martin Luther King Jr. gave his “I Have A Dream” speech. U.S. Representative Lewis was asked if he ever thought he would see the day when an African-American would be a major party’s nominee for president. He said that during the Civil Rights struggle all he wanted was a library card and the right to vote. You could almost hear his tears over the radio. Barack Obama’s acceptance speech was good, but for so many it didn’t matter what he said, just that he, someone like him, someone like them, said it. Langston Hughes once pleaded in poem, “Let America be America again.” The Constitution speaks of the course of human events which require a people to demand for change. It seems we are on that course again.
August 27, 2008
Moment in your arms
Just before the sun rises
Darkness stripped away.
Enough said.
August 26, 2008
A herd of donkeys
Gather on a mountainside
For hee-haw hoopla.
The democratic process is simply amazing. I think we under appreciate the peaceful transition from one administration to another. In the history of nation states, the leader of a country being chosen by the people he or she will govern is pretty unique. Having said all that I have reached the stage of being politically ad nauseam. The campaign has gone one way too long. The gatherings in Denver and Minneapolis-St. Paul are extremly important. Much is at stake, but getting to what is significant has taken our nation through the hyberbolic munutia of political moot.
August 25, 2008
Obama Biden
Osama bin Laden, huh!
Someone call Limbaugh.
It is now open season on reasonable thought.
August 24, 2008
Catholics from the past
Attacking Vatican II
Armed with fear of God.
August 23, 2008
A Bolt of lightning
Striking gold and world records
Igniting kindness.
He is athletic, fast, a little goofy and generous. He is brining home three gold medals, as many world records and leaving behind $50,000 for the eathquake victims.
August 22, 2008
Global warring hike
Everything gets colder
Czech out history.
Americans have been programmed to believe that Russia is an evil empire. Even with the fall of communism, Russia is considered untrustworthy, corrupt and violent. The bloodshed in Georgia is simply terrible and immensly complex. Are the Russian troops invaders, liberators, or both? Are the Georgians innocent victims or brutes who have attacked an ethnic minority seeking freedom? Before our ships reinact a Caucasus-Cubanesque crisis in the Black Sea the Bush administration needs to back off from the rhetoric and send in someone who can see the big picture and understand a lot of history.
August 21, 2008
Outside my window
Starlings don’t seem to notice
I am back at work.
Someone has to buy the birdseed.
August 20, 2008
My vacation life
On 3rd planet from the Sun,
Great destination.
Every once and awhile it hits me that we are floating in a distant corner of a round universe. I consider myself one of the most fortunate organisms that has ever evolved. Our planet is a living miracle. We need to take care of it, us, and all other living things.
August 19, 2008
New curriculum
Teaching ancient history
Bring the dead to llife.
This school year I get to teach two curriculums, World Geography and Ancient History. Our school district cut back on the number of teachers in my school and so a handful of teachers have to teach in two different grade levels. I know, “What is this guy complaining about? I wish I had his problems.” Anyway, I look forward to the challenge of making the agricultural practices of early Mesopotamians appealing to 6th graders who can’t tell the difference between corn and soybeans. I look forward to the mummy races when kids wrap each other up in toilet paper. This is the last year for World Geography. If the world ends next year it wouldn’t be that big of a deal, but don’t bet on it.
August 18, 2008
Morning mist hovers
The sunrise evaporates
Summer vacation.
Life may be a stage, but it is also a canvass. The mist, not the movie, is a stunningly beautiful momentary gift. To receive it you have to get up and drive one of your extra sons to football practice.
August 17, 2008
Disobedience
Civil or spiritual
Sacramental act.
I was asked to give my social justice talk for this year’s RCIA ( Rite of Christian Initiation for Adults) class. I had to decline. I’ve given this talk for years and my fellow parishioners have always been inspired by it. I’ve been inspired by it as well. It is not the talk, but rather the history of people in the Catholic church who have embodied the gospel message in what they have done and said. From the words of the Church Fathers, such as St. Basil, who said that the extra coat in your closet belongs to the person who doesn’t have one to the harsh and dreadful love lived by Dorothy Day and the Catholic Worker Movement, I am inspired.
I informed our local priest that I couldn’t give the talk because it includes positions that dissent from the teaching of the Catholic hierarchy. He has never heard my presentation and I did not want to cause him embarrassment. I offered to go over my talk with him privately if he was interested. Our former pastor was supportive of what I had to say. That was because he shared my dissent.
A secondary reason why I can’t give the talk is because of the restriction placed on lesbians from participating in liturgical ministries. Dear friends of ours were basically kicked off the altar because of their love and commitment to each other and their children. I remain sickened and appalled. The Catholic church continues to crucify its members. Women and homosexuals have been delegated to secondary positions in the Kingdom of God. These are two of the points I bring up in my talk. The Church is a flawed human institution which cowers in the presence of the gospel message of love. I also mention this in my talk. The stranglehold that the mysoginist male dominated priesthood has on the Catholic community of the faithful continues to restrict the life giving breath of the Holy Spirit. That’s in there somewhere, too. So, I thought it was best to not give my talk.
August 16, 2008
A fish called Michael
A kid with ADHD
and eight gold medals.
My son, Scott, suggested the last line be “Numero ocho”. Not bad for a kid who studies German. Congrats to Phelps. He inspires me as a teacher to want to walk into class and, on the very first day, say to my students, “You’ll never be able to focus on anything.” Next week I’ll be getting to school early and diving into the pool. My own Olympic hope is that I don’t drown.
August 15, 2008
Back in my classroom
Rearranging everything,
Sharpening pencils.
For Susan Salidor’s 50th
Songstress of her soul
Chip off a 78
Baldwin’s minstrel mensch.
The ying and yang of teaching consists of inspiring students to expand their consciousness while making sure the markers aren’t all dried out. Getting ready for a new year allows me to reflect upon what worked, what didn’t, and what has to get done before al the padawans fill the seats. One reason I love teaching is because I learn so much in the process.
August 14, 2008
Family reunion
Gathered around the casket
Wondering who’s next.
You know you have a really close family when you and your sister have to quiz each other regarding the names of your first cousins. One by one we go horizontal while those left standing comment on how good the corpse looks given the circumstances. Please close my casket when the time comes and “give my knees to the needy”.
August 13, 2008
A chicken sandwich
Breakfast of Olympians
Down it with a beer.
I Watch the Olympics. Despite the fake fireworks, and lip-synch girl not cute enough scandal, I’m loving it. The only aspect of the Cirque du Beijing which make me want to jump off the high bar are the McDonald commercials. Mao would be proud of the level of nutritional propaganda plastered on the plasma. Oh yea, I like Mike, but there are a few hundred other Olympians who have stories to tell.
August 12, 2008
Georgia on our minds
Other arms reach out to you
Dreaming peace again.
Alliances were the trigger to World War I. They most likely will be the cause of the next global apocalypse as well. Denouncing the Russian and praying for the Georgians may seem like weak responses to the recent events in South Ossetia and Abkhazia, but they may be the most prudent responses at this point. Russia is hell bent on sending a message to all their former republics about their new found fascination with NATO and the west. All present parties involved in this conflict, and that includes the U.S., need to find a way out of this calamity in Caucasia. History provides us an example of what not to do.
August, 11, 2008
Water without salt
Tobacco transformed to corn,
Back in the Midwest.
North Carolina and the ocean are beautiful, but give me the unbearable humidity of summer, the bitter cold of late autumn, the frozen wonderworld of winter, and the mud of spring.
August 10, 2008 ~ Sacred Sunday
Newman Center Haj
Visiting an empty tomb
Community gone.
The Newman Center will always be the people and place that opened my eyes to see the world as it is, and as it might be. Returning to the place without the people is like visiting a museum. Newman has diasporated into the lives of those that once lived, loved, and believed there. Soon the building that once served as our refuge from self centered, societal sanctifying ritualistic religion will be, like the house, gone. The only place to find the dynamic faith filled community that once dwelled together at 501 S. Main is at our present addresses.
August 9, 2008
Taking sand with me
Water inside of my ear
The sun on my face.
Once you go to the beach you never really leave. Your tan usually lasts into early September and you get your equilibrium back shortly after that. Sand can be found throughout your house for six months or so. The sound of the crashing waves can be heard late at night, even sometimes at work. The ocean gets in you, perhaps because we are mostly water, just like the Earth. Going back is never in question, just when, where, and with whom is the issue.
August 8, 2008
Disco on the beach
Dancing with my families
Ghost crabs diggin’ it.
A few years back we held an impromptu dance party down at the beach. We had a blast. Every year since we have neglected to do the hustle under the Big Dipper. Thanks to my niece, Ally, summer is no longer without Donna Summer. She pulled it together this year and we danced under the August moon together once again. Thank you Ally!
August 7, 2008
100 degrees
Floating in the Atlantic
Turning pink like shrimp.
Last night we ate three types of shrimp: pan fried shrimp with garlic, grilled shrimp brushed with olive oil, and boiled shrimp with cocktail sauce. Today we felt like shrimp slowly cooking off the coast. You are what you eat.
August 6, 2008
Breakfast with Mary
A big brother happiness,
Time with my sister.
I have to travel over 20 hours to get time with my sister who lives 45 minutes away from me. We need to take time together more often. She is full of grace, goodness and has lots of style. I am so fortunate to be her brother and her friend.
August 5, 2008
Mother and son dance
Fire hydrant drenches the street
Singing in the spray.
Proposed cultural law # 3302B: When someone is nice enough to flush a fire hydrant on a hot summer day, someone should ring a bell and everyone should be obligated to run through it.
August 4, 2008
Riding in the rain
Motorboating each puddle,
To be 50 now!
According to my sister, motorboating is the term used to describe the act of riding one’s bike through puddles. According to the internet it is something very different. It has been over 40 years since I intentionally rode my bike in the rain. What was I thinking? I felt like Gene Kelly on wheels. The next time storm clouds gather I’ll be putting on my helmet and hitting the wet pavement.
August 3, 2008
Faith of our fathers
Jews and Christians on the beach
Under umbrellas
Over the past few years we have gathered together as families on the beach for an alternative prayer service. Jews, Roman and American Catholics, non-denominational Christians and others gather together to participate in a religious service.
My family does this in lieu of going off island to find a local Roman Catholic parish. The sentiments and ideas expressed are always meaningful and enrich us all. The sound of the crashing waves is sounds like an earthly chant and the sand beneath our feet creates a level of comfort far beyond what can be achieved by carpet or marble. We break bread and share wine. This sustenance is not viewed as the substance of Holy Communion, but rather familiar foods that have nourished family and friends for centuries. Our small circle of family and friends contribute to make the service a heartfelt experience. Pretty good for a mortal sin.
August 2, 2008
Tour de Ocean Isle
Riding in my yellow shorts
Middle age crisis stage.
I am an occasional athlete. When I look down and I look anything over two months pregnant I start working out or dieting. My present regimen is to ride up and down the island and overtake other riders on the road. I left a senior citizen in the dust yesterday morning. I’m peddling hard by 6:40 A.M. I ride the length of the island and scan the garbage for abandoned beach chairs. I start out with a few prayers and a bit of meditation but soon enough I’m pushing to catch up with an unwitting competitor. Time trials start tomorrow.
August 1, 2008
Layers of a lifetime
My sons the skim board experts
An old friend passes
So this year, my adolescent boys are the ones others are watching to figure out how to glide for yards down the beach on a pumpkin seed shaped sliver of wood. My sons fly with grace and humor now.
In a different layer of lifetime, they were the ones who, though determined, tried relentlessly to throw the board, run after it, jump on it, and hydroplane down the strand. It was painful to see them jump on the quarter inch piece of plywood and watch inertia prove its theory over and over again; the board would grind to a halt and the boy would fly off and fall. It was even more painful to see their frustration and embarrassment. It was my job to intervene when those disappointments turned to tantrums.
My memories are not linear. They compound and compact. They accumulate in colorful bands. Scott and I sometimes refer to “the New York years” (though we really lived in New Jersey most of the time,) or “the years BC” (Before Children,) or “the Rockford years.”
Early in the Rockford years, BC, I met Cheryl Robinson-Rudie. We both taught at Flinn Middle School and we became friends. She was a gentle, open-hearted woman. She had a deep, questioning faith. She had a different last name then, as the layer of her married life was being stripped by the erosion of betrayal.
After I left the middle school, our lives evolved in different ways. We seldom saw each other, but I knew Cheryl had divorced, taken back her name, and rose to a new level in her life. After several years, Cheryl fell in love with and married John Rudie, who also taught at Flinn. She added his name to hers.
While at the beach, I learned that Cheryl passed away this week. I keep thinking about the strata of our lives.
There is a density here, and such beauty.
I remain the luckiest woman I know.
Kate Rehak
July 31, 2008
Sick as a dogfish
Captives in thirty foot swells
Pirates and their prey.
Every year we go deep sea fishing and come back with just a couple of fish. We never come close to winning the biggest fish pool. But, despite the lack of fish, we have always enjoyed the presence of the tattooed, overly tanned, and weathered looking Capt. Sharkey. He has delighted us with his stories and attended to every knotted line. Spending a few hours on the water with him was worth the price of the ticket. For the last two years we’ve sailed out of port without him. This year we went at night with a crew we should have mutinied against and tossed overboard. The thrill of the salt air in our faces was replaced by the throw-up on David’s shirt ( and Scotty’s shoes, “nice going David” ). The crew was uninterested at best, and rude. Next year we stay on land and go fishing at Piggly-Wiggly.
July 30, 2008
Gifts from the ocean
Whelks, olives, cockles, and clams
Pair of Foster Grants.
I grew up with a garage full of sunglasses and other assorted sundries my father sold as a salesman. He would give me boxes of samples to go sell to the neighbors for half price. I made a small fortune. I would also go to the garage to get gifts to give to girlfriends. Wella shampoo and conditioner was a standard offering. So, it seems fitting that the ocean spat back a pair of Foster Grants. Of course, I gave them to my girlfriend.
July 29, 2008
Water, wind, and time
Mother Nature’s media
End of isle artwork.
Each time we come here the island has been whittled and reshaped by nature. It’s like watching a sculptor at work. The island is not the only thing changing each time we visit.
July 28, 2008
Eternal beach week
Being in the here and now
Eastern Standard time.
Time is an illusion with different zones.
July 27, 208 ~ Sacred Sunday
Praying on the beach
Pelicans hear confession
Waves wash away sin.
I stole the last line from a Presbyterian minister whose church holds Sunday services on the beach. We go every week when we are at the beach. I’m not sure if the pelicans granted me absolution, but the gulls just laughed at me. Praying with my toes in the sand is akin to standing before a burning bush. Poseidon and Triton are only myths, but I understand the motivation behind their creation. The ocean elicits awe. It is one of the three true temples upon earth, the others being the land and sky.
July 26, 2008- Sports Saturday
6 billion people
Waiting in line for tickets,
The long push forward.
The Olympic games are China’s open house on the world’s parade of modern nations. The long march continues on. This hybrid of communism and capitalism offers the world a new option, minus the nicities of democracy and limited human rights. China is on the rise, and if its environment can stand the weight, and is sure to become the next big thing in the history of powerhouse civilizations. They are back on the block. Learn Mandarin now!
July 25, 2008 ~ Guest Haiku
On the road with Jack,
Kate, Scott, David, Steve and Matt,
Beach generation.
Sal Paradise
Today we take off for our vacation ( even though my life is a vacation and I’m already on vacation). For the next two weeks we will be on the road. It may be hard to access the internet from the highway, so I’m not sure what is going to happen with the daily posts. The haiku will be written and if nothing else I will recite them to the night sky.
July 24, 008
Shopping at Wal-Mart
Nobody could do the math,
Made one ninety-three.
I went to Wal-Mart and bought some grapes. The sign said they were $1.50 a pound. They rang up at $1.75 a pound. The total weight of the grapes was 1.93 pounds. I noticed the discrepancy on the way out. The overcharge was just short of 50 cents. At first, I was going to blow it off and leave, but Kate said, “It’s the principle.” So I wandered off to Customer Service.
This is when the story gets interesting. The three people at Customer Service gathered around my grapes and asked what was wrong. I explained to them the details of the above paragraph. They all looked puzzled. The confident young Jennifer Lopez look alike requested someone from Produce to call extension 55. The young man that was slightly smaller that Shaq informed her that they were at extension 51. He then commented that he did not do produce. In his own words, “I can’t stand grapes.” The young women, J-Lo, exclaimed that she knew what to do and proceeded to type at the register. Much to her chagrin a little bell rang which meant that something went wrong. Smaller than Shaq said, ” Better call Shirley.” A few minutes later she showed up and took over. Shirley asked what was going on and whose grapes those were on the counter? I said they were mine and I went over the whole story. She wrote something down on her yellow tablet, went over to the cash register, typed a whole bunch of things in and pushed some buttons. The bell rang again. J-Lo said, “It did the same thing to me.” Shirley then said, “Just give him the difference.” Smaller than Shaq leaned over and said to J- Lo, “Man, that’s why I don’t like working returns.” J-Lo said to Shirley, “So how much would that be?” Shirley, looking a little condescending, said, ” A $1.93.”
July 23, 2008
Stopped on the highway
Lexus with a flat, no spare,
Wealthy, but stupid.
Wealth is not necessarily a sign of intelligence.
July 22, 2008 ~ Happy Birthday Dad
Son of Art Suma
To be a father like him,
A pally wally.
My father was debonair. He was everything Willy Loman dreamed of becoming. There is so much of him I strive to become. He was a provider. He took care of his family and was generous to others. He was competent and trustworthy at work and fun loving and attentive at home. He was a good husband , a great coach and an excellent father. I miss him.
My relationship with my dad was like a long, beautiful journey that traversed through some difficult storms. When I was a young child he was the big guy who smelled like Aqua Velva , had a rough beard, and became my coach. He would call me names like “Scottywadipooppoopaduper”. He was a “fun dad” who instilled in me a love of baseball and a sense of humor. He had a light touch, but a deep presence.
When I hit the teenage years my love of sports was replaced by a fascination with rock music, alternative spirituality, long hair and everything my dad couldn’t stand. Our relationship stressed out. The distance between us continued to lengthen as I went off to college, became politically active, and ended up overseas in relationships of which he never approved. Despite our disagreements and our growing differences, he still provided for me . The little boy who played first base for him and the quarterback he watched from the sidelines had morphed into someone with whom he could not relate.
My dad’s primary motivation was to provide for his family and help his children establish themselves, settle down, be happy and secure. My first real job, a New Jersey based non-profit world peace organization, which paid $6000 a year, was not what he was hoping for. He just told everyone I worked for the U.N.. He was a commission based salesman. He made his money on every case of shampoo or sunglasses he sold. Making squat from donations didn’t sit right with him. After I finished my theology degree and was hired by the Archdiocese of Newark, he took some solace in that I had landed a job with a multi-national corporation. These remained stressful years; he used to encourage me to consider teaching and settling into a small town somewhere.
One of the best things that happened between my father and I during those early adult years was Kate. He loved her from the moment they met. Our relationship improved dramatically with her in our lives. She brought him great comfort and he thoroughly enjoyed her. She also made more money than I and she had a real job: a teacher. Our relationship really transformed during these years. The tensions faded, a friendship grew. When we got Scotty, he so lovingly tried to understand the nuances of adoption, although a grandkid with two last names took a little longer for him to figure out. By the time David arrived he was delighted and secure about his middle son, though he really didn’t like the neighborhood in which we lived.
A new house, and a new career (I was finally getting the teaching degree he always thought I should pursue,) made him so very happy. He was ready to check me off the “Son I should Worry About” list. We spent years together delighting in our adult relationship. We recreated at his Lake Geneva home with the kids and grew closer and closer. It was all good.
After many happy years together he got sick. A heart operation, a bad mix of medicines, and a botched prostate surgery weakened my dad and placed him in a situation he could not get out of. He struggled like a prize fighter to get better. The infections were just too much for him to overcome. I would drive to the hospital he was in and spend time talking to him and rubbing his feet to give him a little comfort. He could not communicate very well. He would try to open his eyes and nod his head. On the day he died we let him know how he had been such a good and loving dad. We wanted to make sure he knew we were all o.k. and that he didn’t need to worry about us. We helped him let go.
Our long journey together ended well. The turbulence that once rocked and created distance between us was but a distant memory that no longer mattered. My dad remains with me. I hear him in my voice and see him when I coach my kids or play with them. He is in my brothers and sister as well. I thank him today for showing me how to live and instilling in me the desire to help and provide for others.
July 21, 1984
The two became one
Our great adventure began,
Connubial bliss.
I consider myself the luckiest male alive. I was fortunate enough to get Kate Rehak to marry me twenty-four years ago today. Our friendship and love is the well from which I draw sustenance. She has inspired, guided and delighted me all these years. She has made me a better person and given me a life I never imagined possible. I respect and honor her. I bask in her goodness and revel in our relationship. Thank you, Rehak!
July 20, 2008
We reap what we sow
Universal karmic law,
Ask any farmer.
What is in your garden?
July 19, 2009 ~ Guest Haiku
I dance with my wife
In the den to Dean Martin
I dance with a star.
Kerry O’Brien
Kerry is a friend. We hung together in Rockford. He has moved on and is happily married and dancing with his wife in the living room. During our time together we played volleyball and attempted to win at all cost. Kerry was wicked on the court, but even better in the court. He was a lawyer for people who could not afford one. His generous heart and sharp mind scored lots of points for the good guys.
July 18, 2008
Turned off the T.V.
Unplugged the video games,
Everything to do!
The boys and I played cards for the last four hours. We only lost one of them to the X-Box. No one was text messaging during the games either. It felt like a time warp. What a wonderful evening. Gaming is a fantastic social event, especially when you are are joking, laughing, snarling, and mocking each other. We didn’t kill one cyber alien, but I think we saved the world.
July 17, 2008
She kills everyday
Drowns or squishes her victims,
Japanese beetles.
There is a side to my wife few people know. She engages in mass murder in the backyard. Japanese beetles, Popillia japonica, are her prey. They destroy everything in their path, especially her beloved roses and raspberries. We seldom use pesticides so she picks them off the plants one bug at a time. Kate is kind and compassionate to most species, but not them. It’s an ongoing battle. Her anti-war stance takes a back seat when it comes to this invasive pest.
July 16,2008
Can’t watch the all-stars
We don’t have ESPN
Un-American!
I called the boys from the restaurant to remind them that the All-Star game was on. My eldest replied, “It’s on ESPN.” Then the thought came to me, “How many households, besides mine, with baseball obsessed kids, don’t get ESPN?” It is unbelievable. Ruth, Gehrig, Flood, Williams, Aaron, Mantle, DiMaggio are turning over in their dugouts. Baseball’s soul has been bought and paid for. Shame on the game. Middle class and poor kids can’t watch the game. What ’s next, the Superbowl?
Note: I discovered late last night that my son gave me the wrong information about the game; it was on Fox. But, I’ll let it stand and consider it a prophetic piece of poetry. One day it will happen.
July 15, 2008 ~ David’s Birthday
Happy to be here,
Happy to be anywhere,
So flippin happy!
My life long friend, Joe Kent, is a physician. Having come to know my youngest son, Joe diagnosed him as clinically too happy. David neither sees the glass half empty or half full, he just sees the glass and is stunned by its beauty. At first I thought David was the second coming of Thomas Merton. I even went as far as considering him the reincarnation of the Buddha (please understand my sense of humor). Here is a haiku about that:
Our little bud- dha
Aware and oblivious
Young son and old soul.
I know he’s not some lama on the loose, but he is in love with life. He turns 13 today and I can tell, by the text message records, that he is being tempted to shed his innocence and become a dude. I pray that his infatuation doesn’t limit itself to self and that he continues to be engrossed by the world around him. He has always been the kid who stopped to dig in the sand at the beach, or call me to describe a bird he encountered, or remind us that the dearly departed are always with us. He mixes plaid pants with striped shirts and is totally free from the affect of fashion. He is a wonder to behold. He has enriched my life by his presence. I am in love with him. Watching him live is a delight.
July 14, 2008
Our next door neighbor,
Like Teddy Roosevelt,
Saved the empty lot.
We live across the street from an empty lot. It provides us great views of sunsets, and the changing of the seasons. In the summer we mow a path through the tall grass to get to the baseball field. It was our hope to purchase it one day.
The lot was owned by a couple who bought it for their daughter to build a house. Years ago she unexpectedly died and they could not bring themselves to sell it. It served as a reminder of her life and their dreams for her. Much to our surprise, “For Sale” signs appeared a few weeks ago. We inquired, but the price was too high. The simple beauty of the empty lot was now in jeopardy.
We accepted the possibility that we would be staring at a ticky-tacky prefab house for the rest of our days, until, about a week ago, the signs came down. I was readying myself to see the onslaught of heavy machinery roll down the street, but instead my neighbor pulled up in his John Deere mower, with his grandson on his knee. He told me he bought the lot. With great trepidation I asked him what he planned to do with it. He looked me right in the eye and replied, “Nothing.”
I don’t know my neighbor very well, but that is about to change. He is now a hero to my family. He saved the lot, the view, the beauty, the path. I plan to invite him over to look out from our front window to see what he has done.
July 13, 2008 ~ Sacred Sunday
Love is addition
Religion is division
Wisdom - subtraction.
I’m horrible at math. I like to say that I pursued a degree in theology because there were no math requirements. I’m enthralled by mathematical concepts. But the actual computation of numbers and the exactness of it all bogs me down. I am most interested in math as analogy and metaphor: One God, three persons in one God, one body, oneness, being one with the… and so on.
Religion really does divide. The Vatican’s recent statement about its disappointment over the Anglican Church’s decision to allow women to be bishops is pathetic. They, the modern day Pharisees, just don’t get it. The hierarchy’s ongoing policy of discrimination against women is sinful. For centuries , the Roman Catholic church has continued to deny the Reign of God by its treatment of women as second class souls. Perhaps the most tragic and appalling aspect of this blatant discrimination is how the Church hierarchy tries to pin it all on Jesus. Jesus had none of this ( read the gospels). So, congrats to all you Anglicans who have seen the light. Shine some over here in our darkness.
July 12, 2008 ~ Sports Saturday
An empty dugout
Sun sets over right field fence,
Lightning bugs take field.
Every ending brings something new. Patience is the key to see the amazing transformations of life all around us. Waiting takes us everywhere!
July 11, 2008 – Guest Haiku
Doing what you hate
So to make yourself stronger
builds more than muscle.
Mark Suma
My brother, Mark, wrote this one. He dedicates it to his incredible wife. She is Mark’s great gift. She possesses strength, beauty, intelligence, integrity, and many more virtues. He knows how fortunate he is to have her. Last week his son, Mike, served up the guest haiku. Perhaps its time for a family sweep. They all live out in Colorado. Mark moved out many moons ago and found a home in the hills. He always made room for me, his little brother, and I’ll never forget the welcome. Time and space may have separated us throughout the years but the love we share is eternal.
July 10, 2008
The joy of coaching,
The kid who gets his first hit
In season’s last game.
My baseball coaching career is over (unless I announce a comeback, which I doubt). We lost to Goliath, who is now 19 – 0. Despite our defeat, the season was a success ~ every kid wants to play again. Our final game ended up 8-2, but it should have been 4-2, but really it could have been 2-2, in fact, it really should have been 2-1. Perhaps, in a parallel universe, we reign as champions. Regardless of what universe we are in, the season was a blast. So glad I was on the team.
July 9, 2008
Who should declare war,
Congress or the president?
How about mothers?
The website is screwing up, yesterday’s commentary never got posted. I wrote about how men in political office have been sending the children of other parents off to war for centuries. Politicians, like Bush and Cheney, lack the moral sense, or they are just demonic, to understand the consequences of their actions. As my friend, Claude Kennedy, once said, “War is hell.” Why we willingly send other people to hell puzzles me. Sometimes, in the case of self-defense or defending the innocent, war may be the last resort but, even so, it is always a bad choice. Perhaps we need to put the issue on a referendum. Or we should just poll the mothers and fathers, wives and husbands, children and family or our military forces. It is too grave an act to let two cowards like Cheney and Bush decide what to do.
July 8, 2008
Waiting for the storm,
To go dancing in the rain,
I take a shower.
Staying dry is overrated. Get soaked. Dance to the thunder.
July 7, 2008
Time to go to bed,
I am so very sleepy,
Wait, I’m still driving!
No comment, just glad I’m off the road and in my bed. Wait, I’m still typing!
July 6, 2008~ Sacred Sunday
Leonard Salidor
Brought light into the darkness
Music to the world.
Len is the father of Susan Salidor. Even though I only had the great pleasure of meeting him a couple of times a year, seeing him was always an occassion of joy. When speaking with Len, he would draw you into the intimacy of his presence with his soft voice, warm smile and penetrating eyes. Regardless of how long it had been since our last conversation, we always seemed to pick up where we left off.
My own father really took to Len. They were two men shaped by the era in which they lived and the work they did. Both had business in their blood and a joie de vivre which attracted others to them. It is my hope that they will bump into each other wherever they are.
I offer my prayers for Margot, and all of Len’s children and grandchildren. Their world is less without him. I especially hold Jay and Susan in my heart. How fortunate both of them have been to have Len as a father and father-in-law. I learned most about Len from the two of them. They have been so very attentive to his life journey. I feel his presence in their lives.
Thank you, Len, for all you have done for the people I love. Thank you for the moments with you. Thank you for your gentle and loving presence. You have shown us how to live a life. Your light will continue to shine in the world, your music will go on forever.
July 5, 2008 ~ Sports Saturday
End times for baseball
David versus Goliath
Biblical playoffs.
We won our last regular season game. Our team earned the 8th and final playoff spot. The boys were ecstatic. In the midst of our revelry, we came to the realization that our first round game was against the undefeated, 18 – 0, powerhouse Lonnie’s Stonecrafters. So be it.
To win the championship you need to win four games. The Stonecrafters are favored to win it all. We, Rockford Secondarys, are the underdog. They are looking beyond us at the next round. We are focused on one game and one game only. They are Goliath, but we have David and Joey, Michael, Adams, Skyler, Daniel, Jalen, Cortez, Hot Rod, Ricky, Victor and Luke. They are bigger then us, and according to their record, better. But we have a bibilical story on our side. Before the game I plan to read 1 Samuel 17 to the team. After that I will tell them to go out and bring me back some heads.
July 4, 2008 ~ Guest Haiku
I’m inside the box
While thinking of family
The box is opened.
Mike Suma
My nephew, Michael, wrote this one. I’m so happy he wrote a haiku. He has been learning some intense life lessons and I’m glad he was able to translate one of them into seventeen syllables. Mike, congratulations on having your poem in cyberspace. We all live in boxes and the challenge is to see beyond the places we exist. Sounds like you have done this when reflecting on family. Try to do it with every breath you take.
July 3, 2008
Celebrate the 4th
End tyranny or something,
Welcome a stranger.
What is it about our country which we should celebrate? Perhaps we should ponder this thought a bit before we light the sparklers, raise the flag, or add our voice to “God Bless America.” There are a multitude of good reasons for reveling on Friday, what are yours? I grew up being told that the U.S. was the greatest country on earth. No one ever told me why.
Maybe it should become a ritual, people in every state, city, town, and suburb verbalizing their reasons for the burgers, brats and potato salad. We might even want to list a few of the things we need to work on. There is a myriad of them as well. If you choose to sing a few patriotic tunes, don’t forget the second verse of America, the Beautiful,
America! America!, God mend thine ev’ry flaw, Confirm thy soul in self-control, Thy liberty in law.
July 2, 2008
To do is to be
My modus operandi,
Just finished this poem.
I am a type AB personality. When anything needs to get done, call me. I’m not overly generous, just pathologically obssessed with doing. Deep inside I think I’m trying to become Mr. Greenjeans. Doing something that I can get done brings me the deepest satisfaction. I thrive on accomplishment. The only thing that slows me down are the migranes, or what I jokingly refer to as the sub-cranial nuclear blasts. I especially enjoy fiquring out how to fix something without reading instructions. Often the time in the summer is difficult to handle. My “to do” list rises as high as Everest and I always consider the unchecked items as personal failures.
My obsession is both due to nature and nuture. I’m the son of a traveling salesman who we used to refer to as the “Ready-Go Man.” For my father, the present was the past, and the future was his destination. I once gave him a book entitled, Be Here Now. I asked him how he liked it, knowing he only read the cover, and he replied, “I disagree with the premis.” But, for as allergic my father was to the present moment, my mother has lived in an expanded time zone her whole life in which she has woven both the past and present into a single experience. If you don’t understand, talk to her for fifteen minutes and you will understand.
It is difficult to be both A and B in one personality. People who meet me think I’m really mellow. Little do they know I’ve analyzed, categorized, judged and speculated about them in the same nanosecond it took them to think I was laid-back. Luckily, none of it sticks, and by the time I meet them again I have no idea who they are. My mind is high maintenance, the stream of consciousness has been at flood stage for as long as I can remember.
July 1, 2008
I can smell the past,
Olfactory time machine,
A whiff of before.
As we get older, our sense of smell diminishes. As a species, our olfactory sense has devolved. In our early days as hunters and gatherers we used our sense of smell to locate prey and to avoid predators. Perhaps due to the inundation of Channel #5 , Aqua Velva, Airwick, and Clorox we no longer are able to smell the subtleties of life.
When I was a child, I endulged in the visual aspect of experience, but I was engrossed in the tactile, and olfactory as well. I could smell the arrival of spring weeks away. Winter was crisp, cold, but also there was a certain smell. I remember the scents of the past. Every once and awhile I encounter a smell from the past and I am transported back in time. Call it Dejapew!
June 30, 2008
My two extra sons
Somehow snuck into my heart,
Left the door unlocked.
Steve and Matt have been staying with us since the river kicked them out of their first floor bedroom. Steve has been a frequent guest over the last three years. My sons and my extra sons ( Steve and Matt) have been camping out in our basement for the last few weeks. These young men are a gift. More laundry, more food, more body function humor, more mess. Sometimes it seems like one big frat party, and other times it seems like family. Stephen Stills was right, “love the one(s) you’re with.”
June 29, 2008 ~ Sacred Sunday
I have kept the faith
I have lost the faith I kept
I have found my faith.
There is a zen mondo that goes something like, “There is a mountain, there isn’t a mountain, there is a mountain. This idea was also expressed by T.S. Eliot in his poem, Little Gidding. He wrote,
“We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.”
Eliot expresses what I have experienced in my own faith journey. In a sense, I have regained a faith I never had, but did. I could easily rip off the mondo and simply state, I was a Catholic, I wasn’t a Catholic, I am a Catholic ( substitute the term “Christian” for “Catholic” if you want ). My faith has evolved so much over time that it no longer resembles what it once was, yet much of its essence still remains.
I firmly believe we must be willing to let go of everything we believe in order to believe in anything. The ideas of our faith ~ the dogma, scripture, catechesis, etc. only make up a small aspect of our spiritual life. Faith is so much more than religion. After a lifetime of questioning and rethinking, embracing and rejecting, I remain the constant. My ideas have changed, but the people with whom I’m connected, the planet I live on, my basic personality, and reality have remain much the same.
June 28, 2008 ~ Sports Saturday
The maples and oaks
Behind the home team dugout
Have season tickets.
Sometimes you have to just look around to find the poem. Often I overthink. Haiku is what you encounter in the moment. It flies by. It croaks. It lies dormant in the atmosphere and landscape. It rises and sets, howls and chirps.
In my attempt to post a new haiku each day, I sometimes throw together seventeen syllables as if I’m packing a suitcase in a mad rush to catch a flight. Throughout the year I have discarded hundreds of lines and half written haikus. At one point I collected a bunch of old poems I wrote when I started this idea to use them as filler in case I was too busy or too blank to come up with something creative. I think I’ve used only one of them. It feels too much like serving leftovers. So, I’m continuing to stay in the day and draw upon it as the source of my haiku.
June 27, 2008
Dropping in like rain
Refreshing and reviving
Life in the garden.
Commentary: I’ve been blessed this week with the opportunity to drop in on some relatives and have some friends and relatives drop in on me. All the experiences resulted in “rain like” groundbreaking discussions. During each of my visits, to my Aunt Joy, my sister-in-law Sheri and her son Tyler, my niece Kristen and my nephew A.J, my friend Love and my brother in-law Scott, we all talked and revealed bits of our lives to one another. I felt rejuvenated as I talked with each friend and family member, glad to have been given the opportunity to come live with them in the Garden of Now.
June 26, 2008
Time spent with good friends
Remembering who we are
Who we want to be.
Good friends are one of the best gifts life has to offer. I am blessed with the ones I have. Time spent with them is the quality of my life. We may grow older, but so much of us remains the same. Good friends over time can see the truth of who we are. It is those who have walked with us over a great distance that know us best. It is easy to fool ourselves, but not a good friend.
I saw my oldest friend today. We’ve been friends for almost 40 years. We hold each other in our hearts. He remembers the details of both our lives. I just make stuff up. He is a scientist, I am a poet. He is a physician, I am a former minister/teacher. Regardless of how far away we have moved from each other, we have always remained close. I take such tremendous comfort and delight in my friend. I truly love him.
June 25, 2008
Law of the jungle
What beast eats democracy?
Mugabe monster.
Robert Mugabe started out as a freedom fighter, became prime minister and president of Zimbabwe. He was considered a hero by many Africans. Now he is seen as a brutal dictator who has subverted democracy in order to maintain his rule. He, like so many others before him, has become the problem he sought to overcome. The liberator too often becomes the oppressor, the savior becomes the Satan. He is a man with a brilliant mind, but he has lost his soul. Power has blinded him. Power blinds us all.
June 24, 2008
My urologist
Shoved a camera in my…
Should be illegal.
Ouch! Thank God they don’t use a Polaroid.. I’ve never had a gynecological examine, but this is the male equivalent. I won’t get into details, but the camera wasn’t the worst part. He told me to come back in April. He didn’t say what year, so I plan to see him again in 2018. The only good thing about the experience was that he fixed the problem. It so good to pee like a forty year old again.
June 23, 2008
Above Illinois
A water colored skyscape
Atmospheric art.
The sky is a living canvas composed of wind water and light. I am in awe of its beauty. When I was a child I saw ducks, castles, and dinosaurs in the clouds. Now I see stunning wisps of cirrus, mountains of cumulonimbus, pileus, mammatus, and billow clouds. Despite my fascination with the sky, I really don’t know clouds at all…
June 22, 2008 ~ Sacred Sunday
Pagan party time
Midsummer hullabaloo
Celebrate the sun!
Long before the feast of St. John the Baptist, people were igniting bonfires in honor of the summer solstice and dancing around naked in the night. Now we sit fully dressed in pews with an occasional candle in our hands. Where have all the good times gone?
June 21, 2008 ~ Sports Saturday
Fifty over par
Pentuple bogey on 9th,
No problem with knee.
My sons and their friends went golfing this week. The played nine at the local three par. It was their first solo journey. Scotty’s approach on the 9th was just short of the green. David zigzagged up the hill and maximized the number of strokes. He looked more like a surveyor than a golfer. When he reached the top of the hill he had the grin of a kid on a roller coaster. His backswing needs work, but his attitude toward life is perfect.
June 20, 2008 – Guest Haiku
School is out.
I try not to drift, finding myself
in a new summer.
Paul Goddard
Paul teaches high school English. His haiku is written in what is referred to as the American style. In this style the 5-7-5 pattern is not used. As a teacher, I can relate to the sentiment of Paul’s haiku. The time provided teachers in the summer is a gift. The school schedule allows educators to regenerate, update, and get ready for a new school year. Despite the abundance of time off, it is easy to drift away and end up in August before you know what is happening. The new summer (which starts today) is something that needs to be experienced in the moment ~ sipped, not swallowed. The time is best used when it includes personal growth and development. We need to model for our students how time is a gift and we are responsible for fully appreciating it