Poetry & Biscuits

Today's quote

2009-05-27T21:09:00.001-07:00

Here's the quote that's on my mind today:

Is there more to life than increasing its speed? -- Gandhi

I was packing a lot, oh, I mean A LOT into the next several weeks. I just decided today to let some of it go. Disappointing. Very, very relieving. I will, after all, be moving states this summer. Again. I need to just let that unfold and then move on to the next project and embrace the journey.

I'd like to read a really good biography of Mahatma Gandhi. Can you recommend one to me?

And then she changed her mind

2009-05-16T12:45:00.000-07:00

I am collecting stories of people who were well along a path--career, ideology, life style-- and then woke up one morning and changed it all. I don't mean when you're young (who didn't change majors in college?) I mean a well-established adult who may have even garnered some degree of fame and/or success in her current identity. And then she chucked it.

Why? Because stories like that interest me. But, also, because I'm going back to school on the eve of my 40th birthday. I'm getting a PreK - 3rd grade masters/licensure (I dream of teaching Kindergarten). I already had a masters in writing, and a perfectly good plan to teach composition and ESL and creative writing, while writing the great American novel.

Well, you know, I changed my mind. I take comfort knowing that so did...

Arianna Huffington. Founder and CEO of the Huffington Post, a go-to source for left-of-the-aisle political news and thought. She first stepped into political limelight by campaigning for her then-husband, a Republican California gubernatorial candidate. She wasn't a kid when she was stumping for the GOP, and her position wasn't unexamined--she just later changed her mind.

And a blogger named Melissa, who is also a wildly talented crafter and owner of the Etsy shop Little Pink House. She was well into her 30s, a professor of creative writing on a tenure track at a small, prestigious liberal arts college, when she looked around and saw a lifetime of department meetings and passionless student essays and said, um, no. She moved her family to a small town in Maine, and now she sews, blogs, and raises her daughter. My favorite part of this story is that her sewing projects aren't postmodern, un-constructed gallery pieces that represent a angst-filled intellectual poem in another medium. No, she sews lovely wall-hangings that sweetly, quietly, celebrate family and home. To look at her work is to take a deep breath and feel at peace. There is not a shred of Ph.D. poetic irony in them. She left that kind of thing behind--she changed her mind, and seems to be completely happy with it. Awesome.

Got another example for me? Add to my collection!

Happy Mother's Day from a baby bird

2009-05-10T14:41:00.001-07:00

Found in my children's playset in the backyard. They've generously agreed not to play there for a few weeks, while this feathered family gets its start.

Does this little guy remind any of my mama friends of their scrawny, hungry, newborn nurslings?

Happy Mother's Day, friends. Hope you had the chance to gather your babies back into your nest and kiss them.

Change as a lifestyle

2009-05-06T12:50:00.000-07:00

We move. A lot. A LOT.

Even other military families think we move a lot.

We moved here to Ohio just last summer and bought a house, thinking we would be here for years. But my husband's office reorganized. Fortunately, he was able to get a position back in the DC area, where we just left last summer.

So, we are moving back to DC. This summer. We pretty much move annually.

We've moved in 1991, 1992, 1994, 1997, 1999, 2001, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2008, and now 2009.

That's twelve moves.

We've lived in San Antonio, Boston, England, Indiana, Ohio, Hawaii, Washington State, Alabama, DC, Ohio again, and now DC again.

Is this insane? This may be completely insane. This may explain a lot. This may be the excuse for everything.

But I refuse to think of it that way. You can be wounded from all this change, or you can gain strength from it. You can embrace!

It is very easy for me to embrace going back to DC. I loved it there. I loved my children's school, our neighborhood, our friends. I didn't love our rental house so much, so now we've got a different house that's pretty amazing. Near Metro! Near the park! Walking distance to school!

I am a very lucky person, that I get to go live where I want to live. When I'm on the other side of this move, I will feel luckier.

May Day and middle age

2009-05-02T10:04:00.000-07:00

This post has two unrelated topics. Or are they related? You be the judge.

First, yesterday was May Day. My daughter made a lovely May basket at school, the grass is lush and the tulips are at their apex. Wonderful! I must make mention of my maternal grandmother, Dorothy May Hart O'Hanlon, who was born on May day, 1919. She died in 1996. Every May Day I think of her a lot. She liked to laugh, joke, play games, tell stories, share gossip, eat sweets, purchase small and shiny baubles. She was a dream of a grandma--always thought I was interesting and smart and pretty, and she sneaked me as much sugar cereal as I could handle. Love you, Grandma Dot. Thinking of you.

Second. Middle age. I will turn 40 later this year, and not a day goes by that I don't ponder that. I hasten to say that I'm not at all afraid of turning 40, in fact, I'm comfortable with it. But I would like to wake up on my birthday and know that I'm living authentically. Hmm, that sounds pretentious. I just mean that it's important to me that I'm not spinning my wheels. That I'm not waiting for anything. I'm doing.

And while I was thinking these middle aged thoughts, I came across this poem. Oh, this poem!

"Foreseeing" by Sharon Bryan, from Flying Blind. © Sarabande Books, 1996.

Middle age refers more
to landscape than to time:
it's as if you'd reached

the top of a hill
and could see all the way
to the end of your life,

so you know without a doubt
that it has an end—
not that it will have,

but that it does have,
if only in outline—
so for the first time

you can see your life whole,
beginning and end not far
from where you stand,

the horizon in the distance—
the view makes you weep,
but it also has the beauty

of symmetry, like the earth
seen from space: you can't help
but admire it from afar,

especially now, while it's simple
to re-enter whenever you choose,
lying down in your life,

waking up to it
just as you always have—
except that the details resonate

by virtue of being contained,
as your own words
coming back to you

define the landscape,
remind you that it won't go on
like this forever.

Best definition of the universe I've heard yet

2009-04-29T19:23:00.000-07:00

My daughter's first grade class is assembling a book on geography. Each child was assigned a geographical concept to look up in the dictionary. Then they write the word on their page with the definition and draw a picture of it. A few kids were assigned two pages, so all the concepts would be covered. Leah got "prairie," and then she got "universe."

Universe?

She diligently looked it up in our illustrated children's dictionary, (there was no illustration on this one, by the way) and copied down the definition in her best handwriting.

The whole of everything that exists, including the earth, moon, sun, all the planets, and all the stars.

I talked a little about how no one knows how big the universe is, and many people think it's expanding. All that we can see with even the most powerful telescopes is still just the tiniest fraction of the universe. As she began to draw, she stopped and pondered for a while. Then she said this.

Mom, I think the universe is God's mind. The universe keeps getting bigger because God's mind keeps getting bigger. I think when someone dies, she's still in the universe, because she's still in God's mind.

Blew. Me. Away.

This one's for my fellow English majors

2009-04-24T14:30:00.000-07:00

"The purpose of a liberal education is to make one's mind a pleasant place to spend one's leisure."

Joseph Joubert

hailstones for everyone

2009-04-21T13:09:00.001-07:00

My daughter and I were riding our bikes home today, and the sky opened up and dumped down hail. It was so unexpected and so violent in the slanting way the ice pellets struck our skin that it was almost funny.

Well, the six-year-old didn't think so. She was furious, crying and completely miserable. I kept yelling up to her (over the pounding of ice pellets) just keep going, honey! We're almost home!

We did get home, put on dry clothes and ate a couple homemade snickerdoodles, and watercolored together (see new banner). We both had that feeling that we had just acquired a good story.

But, unfortunately, we didn't do any of those things before I felt compelled to deliver a motherly speech about being a good sport about circumstances no one can control. It was uncomfortable, I lectured, but it didn't actually hurt you. You were acting like it was your own personal hailstorm.

And right in the middle of that speech I understood that I was giving it to myself. We've had all this uncertainty lately, regarding work, and I've been stewing about it. Like I was the only one who could feel the ice pellets. But while it's uncomfortable, it's not actually hurting me.

And I'm going to have a good story when this is over.

however...

2009-04-16T13:43:00.000-07:00

My computer still has a virus which has completely shut it down.

I'm still in the middle of a great deal of major uncertainty (I'll explain, friends, as soon as I can.)

However....

I just stood on our back deck, and the white blossoms from the two big trees in our backyard rained down on me. It is a green and blue and pale yellow spring day, with a bonus gentle breeze.

What else matters?

gesundheit, computer

2009-04-15T06:52:00.000-07:00

Friends, my computer has caught a nasty virus. It's not pretty. Please check back soon for more Poetry & Biscuits. Thanks.

everything there is to know about Russia

2009-04-10T08:58:00.000-07:00

The wise-way-beyond-her-years Stephani, who is raising three young boys in Texas and telling about it in her wonderful blog Blue Yonder, recently posted this idea (which she says is inspired by Lori's Camp Creek Blog, which truly is the original font of inspiration).

It's a simple idea, but somehow I needed it pointed out to me. When your child asks you a question you can't answer, write it down.

I've been leaning on this tired phrase: "oh, that's an interesting question. We should look that up."

I was called out on that. "Mom," my son said. "You say we'll look it up but we never do."

"What was it you asked about?" I asked.

"I don't remember anymore," he sighed.

I've carried a tiny notebook and pen in my purse forever. It says email Emily or return library books Monday--stuff like that. Sometimes it catches snips of poems or essay ideas. Often it's turned over to Leah for drawings or tic-tac-toe games in a waiting moment. Why didn't I ever think to hand it to Jacob? I don't know.

So, after reading Stephani's post, I reached into my purse for this notebook and tossed it to Jacob in the backseat. "Write it down," I said, "because I really want to know that too and we'll look it up together." His reaction was all I could hope for.

Here is a partial list of my son's research topics in the last few days, written in his own words and his own tidy, purposeful handwriting.

How tall is Mt. Everest in INCHES?

What is the gas milage of a Smart Car?

Where was President Garfield when he was killed?

What do fire extinguishers let out?

Everything there is to know about Russia.

Random acts of public happiness

2009-04-09T18:10:00.000-07:00

I found this video via my friend Joan, who was the voice of kindness and reason on my dorm floor my sophomore year of college.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7EYAUazLI9k

This video gets better as it goes. I just love it.

I'm reminded of a wonderful woman I met years ago when I lived in England. (Steve? Are you reading this? She was a friend of yours. I don't recall her name.) She had started a volunteer group which, in twos or threes, boarded trains on London's Underground. They would begin to sing a singable, knowable tune, and invite anyone who wished to join in. They wanted to make a dent in the anonymity of urban life. They wanted to connect. Sometimes they would sing their song and then quietly exit at the next station. But sometimes, she reported, they'd get a whole car singing. I always meant to join them, but I never made it.

There is this video, too, which is good fun, but it doesn't quite have that element of boundless joy, does it?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jwMj3PJDxuo

there is poetry in Cleveland

2009-04-08T11:19:00.000-07:00

Here is my proof.

April 2nd, Willoughby Municipal Park, Cleveland, on Lake Erie.

(I photoshopped out a picnic table and two trash cans. Forgive me.)

why they are masters

2009-04-07T21:11:00.000-07:00

Every day I make an effort to go toward what I don’t understand. This wandering leads to the accidental learning that continually shapes my life.
— Yo-Yo Ma

Ancora imparo.
[I am still learning.]
-- Michaelangelo, age 87

snow + bloom

2009-04-07T10:39:00.000-07:00

Perhaps I'm taking the silver lining thing a bit too far, but I find reassurance that sometimes, even Earth herself muddles things up. Today, long after she released the blooms in my neighborhood--oops, she flurried some snow.

(Can you see it swirling in this photo?)

It's strange. Surreal. Beautiful. And it allows me to take it a little easier on myself when I go to the store expressly for eggs and bread, and I come home with eggs (and tofu and chocolate and strawberries) but no bread. I'm in good company in my absent-mindedness.

Gertrude sums it up

2009-04-06T12:37:00.000-07:00

"I do want to get rich, but I never want to do what there is to do to get rich."

Gertrude Stein, from Everybody's Autobiography

language in translation

2009-04-05T09:41:00.000-07:00

I've been thinking a lot about the German language, flipping through traveler's phrase books and the hefty, sober Oxford-Duden Dictionary (concise version of). I love German. It's a realist's language. Not that I'm a realist, but I admire those who are.

English in translation

I told them English
is my mother tongue,
but every day, every word
I translate
from the unformed,
the fleeting, the impassioned,
the true.
Even that
I translate
from the primoridal dark
and the dappled green shadows
of my forebears' memories.

Comparing early childhood education concepts

2009-04-03T19:38:00.000-07:00

For a long time, I've been mentally working on a comparison study of the many schools of thought on early childhood education.

And I just came across this blog and this series of posts. Wonderful. I wish I had had this information at my fingertips when my own children were preschool-aged.

Click around--such informative posts, and doesn't she have an eye for the beautiful detail?

new game around the house

2009-03-31T16:46:00.000-07:00

My husband was in Germany last week, and he brought back with him loads of German chocolate (thank you, honey), and also an addictive game called Tantrix. Check it out.

Example of a teacher/poet who gets it

2009-03-30T09:07:00.000-07:00

Enjoy.

Teaching Poetry to 3rd Graders

by Gary Short
from his collection "10 Moons and 13 Horses"

At recess a boy ran to me
with a pink rubber ball and asked
if I would kick it to him. He handed me the ball,
then turned and ran
and ran and ran, not turning back
until he was far out in the field.
I wasn't sure I could kick the ball
that far. But I tried,
launching a perfect and lucky kick.
The ball sailed in a beautiful arc
about eight stories high,
landed within a few feet of the 3rd grader
and took a big bounce off the hard playground dirt.
Pleased, I turned to enter the school building.
And then (I don't know where they came from
so quickly) I heard a rumbling behind me
full tilt. They were carrying pink balls and yellow balls
of different sizes, black and white checkered
soccer balls. They wanted me to kick for them.
And now this is a ritual—this is how we spend recess.
They stand in line, hand me the ball and run.
The balls rise like planets
and the 3rd graders
circle dizzily beneath the falling sky,
their arms outstretched.

I search for deeper water

2009-03-25T19:10:00.000-07:00

"I used to sit on the banks with a raft and watch the water roll lazily by. One day I pushed my raft into the shallows of the water and found the water moved swifter than I thought. My raft was actually a boat. Then, after some time, I rowed my little boat into deeper water. There were great storms, mighty winds, tremendous waves, and sometimes I felt so alone. But my little rowboat is now a mighty ship manned by my friends and loved ones; and beautiful calm seas, warm sunny days, and nights filled with comfortable dreams always double after a storm. Now, I could never go back and sit on the bank. In fact, I search for deeper water. Such is life when lived."

B. D. Gulledge (emphasis mine)

(Thank you to Alli .)

Stop action animation is the new black

2009-03-25T18:43:00.000-07:00

Oh! This video. It bears many repeat viewings.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2_HXUhShhmY

Into the woods

2009-03-24T10:51:00.001-07:00

Oh, my, I found something new and I have fallen down an internet rabbit hole, going from one site to another to learn about it.

Have you heard of a Waldkindergarten?

If you are European, I'm sure you have, as they are well-established there, especially in Denmark, Germany, and Great Britain.

Here's the concept: the children and staff work and play outdoors. They never go indoors. There is no indoors at their preschool. Whatever the weather, they are part of it. There are no toys or art supplies in the traditional sense. They use what they find in nature to build, create, and learn. They climb. They hike. When the snow is deep, they dig and sculpt. Apparently they occasionally fall into the stream while they are playing, and they are fished out, and then they carry on. By the way, the stress levels, noise levels, and illness rates are reportedly dramatically lower.

This school in Scotland is literally outdoors, always. Some schools in Germany mix it up a little--outdoors all morning, then indoors for the afternoon. A school in Brussels where this amazing blogger teaches, is more or less indoors, but they go frolicking in the woods abutting their back door every chance they get. They have, I read, a secret playground in the woods. I would lose my mind as a child--as a parent--as a teacher--to find a secret playground on my jaunts through enchanted woods.

I'm reading about these preschools after my children spent weeks indoors at their elementary school. Ice? inside. Dusting of snow? inside. Under 32 F? inside. They may not pick up a stick on their playground. They may not rearrange the mulch. There are no trees.

Maybe we are missing something essential.

Maybe there is a golden mean?

recommended eating

2009-03-23T07:47:00.000-07:00

I don't know...we are just emerging from our winter hibernation. Maybe you don't want a cookie recommendation?

Just in case you do...

May I suggest Chocolate Toffee Cookies from Louisa over at The Wednesday Chef. I left out the nuts, as that is what my children prefer. These cookies have so much chocolate in them that they satisfy the cookie urge and the chocolate urge simultaneously. Little marvels, they are.

Leslie over at a Friend to Knit with bakes a weekly cookie, usually something new every week. I love that idea. I get into my rut of oatmeal chocolate chip or brownies, occasionally some short bread. And a package of Fig Newmans if I don't get any baking done.

I'm also very inspired by Heather at Beauty that Moves, whose new teaching gig encouraged her to have a Sunday food prep day--baking and cooking in one marathon for the week. Very smart. I'm going to try it.

Little Dress on the Prairie

2009-03-22T09:12:00.000-07:00

Finished today: a prairie dress for a little girl who loves all things Laura Ingalls. It turned out a bit more costume than dress, but I don't mind and the little girl in question certainly doesn't.

The embroidered buttons are my favorite part.

In the news this morning: a new study has shown that we can change our brains into our 40s, 50s, and 60s--much later than the rest of our bodies. I am glad to hear this, because I noticed afresh while sewing this dress how laughably poor my spacial reasoning abilities are. Took a few tries to sew in the bodice lining, and which way it would turn...well, apparently, the more I practice this, the better I'll get at it, even at 39. Isn't that good news?

Spring, seriously

2009-03-21T20:48:00.000-07:00

The first day of spring was kind enough to feel like it in my area.

We have had some warm days, but today no longer felt like a taste of the future.

Real spring: sprung.

This little guy means business.

I hope spring arrived in your neighborhood, too.

creative reading

2009-03-19T18:43:00.000-07:00

"There is creative reading as well as creative writing."

Ralph Waldo Emerson

(This photo's an oldie, but a great favorite of mine.)

nurturing parenting in the limelight

2009-03-19T05:53:00.001-07:00

I'm taking this quote to share with my class of teen parents today.

You may remember hearing it, but I thought I'd share this emphasis with you, too.

“For as much as government can do and must do, it is ultimately the faith and determination of the American people upon which this nation relies.

"It is the kindness to take in a stranger when the levees break; the selflessness of workers who would rather cut their hours than see a friend lose their job which sees us through our darkest hours.

"It is the firefighter's courage to storm a stairway filled with smoke, but also a parent's willingness to nurture a child, that finally decides our fate.”

from President Barack Obama’s Inaugural Address, Jan 20, 2009 (italics added)

Sign of Spring

2009-03-18T13:46:00.000-07:00

On our hike Sunday, we yelled out "sign of spring!" when any of the four of us saw a white flower, a budding tree, or a determined green shoot. Such a relief to see them.

Here is another sign--what says spring more than a bright yellow Easter dress for a little girl? I've been meaning to make my little girl a dress since she was two--she's now six. I even bought patterns and fabric in the past, but this is the first dress to cross that boundary from plan to execution.

I won't be entering this into any county fairs, and let's all agree not to check whether the seams line up....perhaps a zipper, pleats, and a lined bodice weren't the best choices for a first dress. But all that said, I'm pleased with it.

And you should see Leah's reaction. She twirled and twirled, asked if she could wear it to school, asked if she could wear it to bed. What took me so long? Definitely a sign of spring.