In the evening..

Old Blue Eyes.

My grandfather was and is summer to me. As I sat this evening in the backyard, I could feel a soft summer breeze cool me down. It was a welcomed change from the level of mugginess that possessed the last few days. He and my grandmother,however, would sit in 90 degree heat, and he would even at times have a wool sweater near by just in case. My brothers and sister and I would sit there, sweating, taking a quick break by picking tomatoes from their backyard or investigating what was really in the mulch pile towards the edge of the lot. I don't think I ever saw my grandfather sweat. On the radio, the summer staple was Frank Sinatra's Summer Wind. We would listen to that song over and over; he adored that Sinatra song. The lyrics though are a bit different to me now as I sit here missing my grandfather on this lemonade drinking, icy pop eating, sunkissed skinwearing, classic summer day.

"Like painted kites, those days and nights - went flyin by
The world was new, beneath a blue - umbrella sky
Then softer than, a piper man - one day it called to you
And I lost you, to the summer wind"

I know he would of loved this evening, would have seen the robins and felt the heat, maybe would have hit a few golf balls, or took a nice swim at Joseph Davis Park. Maybe he is in the summer wind that brushed by my family's hair, cooled us off, and reminded us about the beauty of the unencumbered every day.

For Thomas O'Laughlin and Margaret O'Laughlin

Workin 9 to 5 What a Way to Make a Livin...

Work. It is perhaps the true mark of adulthood. Whenever I think of work, I think of a quote from T.S. Eliot's poem, The Love Song of Alfred J. Prufrock, "I have measured out my life with coffee spoons." I first read that line somewhere during my four years of high school, and it has been haunting me a bit since. Coffee is another one of those adult experiences, and each job I have had (and there have been many from exotic bird watcher, administrative assistant to barista, manufacturing worker, and teacher) coffee has been my morning companion. There is something so adult about drinking your cup of coffee on the way to work, it is like you are a part of this large sea of humanity participating in the same ritual, each motivated by different reasons and desires. The drip of the coffee slowly into the pot reminds me of this clock that my grandparents had that recorded each second with an even more deliberate tone, time passed by quickly but distinctly. Eliot's image of coffee spoons, however, seems so specific and controlled. Each moment is then free of spontaneity or excitement. As my English teacher read those lines in high school, I remember taking them in as a warning. In high school my dreams of work consisted of anything from the next great American novelist to independent filmmaker to many other jobs that I actually knew nothing about. I just knew that I wanted something "different", something free from those coffee spoons, something that would provide meaning to my identity, a job that mattered.
And then I had some jobs, and I started to see meaning in many different ways. Everyone works for different reasons, and I think I was misguided by thinking that jobs were solely the path to fulfillment. Work is noble in many ways, and I can't think of many things more beautiful than a person working to support his or her family, devoting their lives to provide for the people that they love.
I have been not working for the last five months since I had a baby, and I have to say that taking care of baby is more than a full-time experience. Nonetheless, it has afforded me the chance to step out of the working world (although I work in a high school which is unique in its own way) and experienced what it is like to exist out of a normal schedule. A few months ago I started to notice that I heard more birds chirping, I started to write again, and I actually had pretty flowers growing in my backyard. One day I woke up and I realized that I am really happy. I have always been happy, but I feel extremely happy and satisfied. Perhaps it is that my work now consists of being with my daughter and exploring the world all over again, but I also think that my time off from the grind has forced me to find myself again, nurture my own identity a bit instead of focusing on all other work responsibilities. My time is almost up though, and I am going back to work in a couple of months, but I think I am returning more refreshed and reminded that I have a responsibility to make my work life something that I truly desire. I am not sure where this will bring me, but my "time out" made me more aware of the possibilities. I don't want to be the consummate pragmatic adult. In essence, T.S. Eliot is reminding me of that question I have asked myself since high school, "Do I dare, Do I dare."
This morning when I made my coffee I was sure to scoop the coffee, letting the grinds spill over, adding each bit to make a cup of coffee that was both exuberant and adult. And I sit here drinking it, enjoying the boldness and depth on this rainy but lovely July morning.

My Bob Dylan Moment

The amazing thing about a 4 1/2 month old is that she actually thinks it is her momma singing when Bob Dylan is belting out Like a Rolling Stone.
I am going to try Bebel Gilberto next.

Giant Hail and Its Indelible Mark on My Psyche

I just closed windows and brought the dog in the house as the gigantic dark clouds loomed over my neighborhood. As I quickly turned off the electronic devices, I had a little flashback to my first experience watching The Wizard of Oz.
I was terrified, so scared that in one swoop, life could inevitably change. It was so close to the feeling that I had when first watching Ten Thousand Leagues Under the Sea, I was terrified that the gigantic octopus would rise up and snare me underwater, forever taking me away to some deep oceanic haze. Of course this fear was somewhat ridiculous as few octopi? ever resided in suburban above ground pools.This childhood fear continued when viewing David Bowie's movie, Labyrinth, but I won't even go there. I suppose all of this, as I sit here pounding the keys, has followed me my entire life...like I was always able to escape these little disasters and fears. I am afraid of the unknown, the uncertainty that life offers, and I think the more I love people and care, the fear grows. We are chased by our fears and perhaps that is what makes us human. As I look at this dark sky and some monster size hail, I just want to gather my loved ones and hide in some secret corner where we too can escape, safe from what can change or subtract.

Tim Russert, One of Buffalo's Finest

I am sitting her still stunned and saddened about Tim Russert's, moderator of Meet the Press, death. There is something special about Buffalo, and I have traveled many places in the world and found that this place is incredibly misunderstood. Tim Russert grew up from modest beginnings and made his mark on politics, journalism, and writing. He never forgot his home, and he embraced this place throughout his many successes. I am sad for his family as no one should ever lose someone so young and so suddenly. I am also sad for this community as our number one advocate has passed away.

Sick of the advertisements geared towards women...we are more than lip gloss, weight loss, and namebrands.

a poem.

Maybe Donna Reed Missed the Memo- K.P.C.

Sitting in rows during eleventh period English class I learned

The origin of Hysteria

We were learning Greek and Roman Mythology
Venus and Aphrodite, Athena too
Hestia, with her veil and those virgins,
Goddess of the hearth
That word hysteria
Came up somehow, though I doubt those goddesses really misbehaved
I hope they did though.
Hysteria, a condition thought caused by the womb
Like the witches from the Crucible
Those times when we are connected to the moon
Howling at the moon
Maybe when we are not even supposed to
Maybe it was all those goddesses, so hard to live up to
Standing in their robes, hair flowing, looking down on us mere mortals
Pawns sometimes to those women who seem untouchable
Like women on billboards or our shiny new Miss America’s
Towering over us once again
In those stiletto high heels
That often leave marks.

Question of the Week.

Hello.

On this Monday morning, I would like to pose a question. I have been thinking a lot about the upcoming presidential election, especially as I went to fill up my gas tank at $4.10 a gallon and read that another local soldier was killed. This election has already been sidetracked by various personal attacks, and in an effort to stick to the issues, I started to think about what issue was the most important to me. It is difficult to select just one, and as a teacher, I am destined to perhaps select education. It seems that education is one of the major issues, which connects to all of the other problems, that has not been discussed in detail. In my eyes, the system is not working, and it needs some revolutionary changes.

What is your definitive issue for the 2008 presidential election? What keeps you up at night or what do you feel impacts your life or the lives of others the most?

Feel free to post a reply. (Mike another shout out, perhaps? This means you may have to relinquish your Switzerland political status)