Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Please attend and bring your friends!
The theme is epiphanies . . . not only because James Joyce made a big deal about them, but also because turning 60 is, well, the amazement of a lifetime. I'm sure I'll have some deep thought to share on the actual day. And if I don't, I'll have lots of friends around to launch me into my next decade.
Right now readers include (tentatively) Bill O'Sullivan, Ginnie Hartman, Riggin Waugh, and Judith Witherow, Cindy Lollar, Mary Beth Hatem, and of course me.
This is a celebration so the readings will be short (about 3 minutes each).
Monday, November 19, 2007
Let's face it, Summer is over. And out on the deck in the back yard, it's impossible to sit for more than 5 minutes without announcing, "Hey, I'm freezing."
And we all know, at least those of us who don't live year round in Mexico, that we're in for a lot more cold as we descend into earlier and earlier darkness and pray for the Winter Solstice to bring back the light.
Sunday, September 30, 2007
- Don't fight the current
- Swim out of the current, then to shore
- If you can't escape, float or tread water
- If you need help, call or wave for assistance
Monday, August 13, 2007
It takes a while to get out there (or is it up there?), but Provincetown is a wonder to behold.
Standing on the shore at Herring Cove Beach, you can see whales swimming by, watch children play, and get an unforgettable sunburn if you just happen to forget your sunscreen.
More is coming . . . stay tuned!
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
As you can see from the photo, it's cool and easy back here. Easy to sit down, easy to watch the bricks stay in place with no effort at all.
And it's easy to appreciate time standing still for a little while.
There's a graciousness here . . . even after the Katrina devastation. I'm sure many more people are heading back to NOLA this year.
The city was still a ghost town back then. Not far from where I took this photo, I had my palm read. She said things would be getting better for me real soon. I must have looked a little tired or maybe that beignet and coffee left me feeling a little impatient as she shuffled the cards over and over again and watched me settle into her miniature lawn chair.
When it was my turn to ask a question, I couldn't think of one thing I wanted to know in advance. So I asked, "Does it ever cool down around here?"
She nodded. "Stick around for a couple of months. You'll see . . ."
Saturday, July 14, 2007
Don't tell anybody that I picked the workshop because her name was "Cleopatra." I figure when I'm 90 I can freak out my great-grandchildren by telling them I studied poetry with Cleopatra. Think glittering barges on the Nile.
I got a little nervous when I found out we were supposed to bring a copy of the Norton Anthology of Modern Poetry but my friend Cynthia assured me that this won't really be a "class."
I sure hope so.
Cynthia is my best friend from high school. We reconnected when we both decided to skip Classical High School's multi-decade reunion, and we found out that we're both writing poetry.
And yes, of course we have day jobs (for now).
She and her hubby actually have a summer house right in P'town. And this will be our first class together in years and years and years since we were both working on the senior play, "What a Life!". I'm lucky I have friends who love poetry.
Last year at FAWC, my workshop was with Gail Mazur, a poet recommended by my dear friend and brother in spirit Richard McCann. I wrote a long poem one morning about my dad's passing that April.
That class included 8 or 9 other women who wrote wonderful poems that week, including my long-time pal, Riggin.
I love being in New England, and I'm looking forward to driving up there with Riggin, an amazing writer and long-time pardner in literary crimes. She published three of my stories in an anthology she edited in 2003. Actually she's working on getting her Web site up sometime very soon.
Riggin thinks my family tried to poison her on one trip up there for my dad's 80th birthday bash in June 2000.
We arrived late, and she ate some steamers from a bowl on the big picnic table in my sister Vanessa's backyard. Unfortunately those clams had been out there in the sun for a while.
We won't talk about what happened in the next 4 hours. Ick.
That year we were heading for a week of writing on Block Island with a bunch of writer friends. One of those dear ones has since passed on -- Joan Dickenson, a brilliant writer and columnist from upstate New York.
Now there's a woman who should be famous . . . and she will some day.
Friday, July 13, 2007
I know and you know that a title can't be "owned" by anyone, but I was dismayed to find "Thoughts from the Pond" is the title of an inspirational Web site that belongs to a Mr. Williams, from Jacksonville, Florida.
So, dear Pondling, we have to change the name of our blog. You'll probably find it annoying in that way you do, but we must.
Sure, I've been Christian -- Baptist, Methodist (see previous blog), Catholic (stories to come) -- but I don't see us affiliated with Mr. Williams. Nope, that will never happen.
And, since our blog is only a few weeks old, it's really not a problem to try something new. Especially this, Dear Pondling.
It's easier to talk directly to you this way . . . in the way that clairvoyants channel universal white light . . .
In the way that animals sense a coming storm.
In the way that a partner knows what her lover is thinking before she even thinks it.
You'll type and I'll tell the story. And our friends will be amused.
That's one way it might be.
For you see, dear Pondling, this is the place for stories that stretch the truth like taffy and conjure magic as wild and wonderful as Harry Potter and his friends.
Why not! It's Friday!
It's too bad you've never worked a day in your life, Pondling. Really, in a way it's kind of fun.
Talk to you tomorrow. Have a great evening. May the spirits dance in your dreams.
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
Katsi Cook (photo above, on stage at right), a member of the Wolf Clan of the Mohawk Nation, spoke next of our responsibilities to the earth.
After the grandmothers spoke, Al Gore made his way to the podium as fast as he could without stopping to shake hands or wasting any time.
Monday, July 9, 2007
I later found out they had been there since 11 pm the night before. Why I have no idea.
Friday, July 6, 2007
In summer, Washington, DC, is a sultry swamp of heat and humidity. Those of us who live here are used to it.
Well, sort of.
After all these years, I still run in to air-conditioned buildings to cool off. And I have bandanas in the freezer to tie around my neck if I'm heading out for a walk that's farther than the mailbox.
As a rule, we turn out in droves with coolers of ice and lemonade to enjoy 4th of July fireworks on the National Mall, local parades, and family picnics in Rock Creek Park.
But what we as a community do best is attend marches, especially for a good cause. And let's face it, the ground we're standing on and the air we're breathing are as good as you can find these days when it comes to causes.
So the news that Al Gore and his "Live Earth" friends plan to kick off Saturday's global green celebration near the Capitol is excellent!
That's this Saturday, 07/07/07, at 10 am. Al Gore, Trish Yearwood, Garth Brooks, and many many bands including Blues Nation. All on the grounds of the Smithsonian's National Museum of the American Indian at 4th and Independence, S.W.
See you there! I'll be the old lady in the beenie copter looking for the bathroom.
* * * *
My first march in DC was back in 1967. I was an 18-year-old undergraduate at George Washington University studying journalism, anthropology, and English Lit.
And spending most of my free time at Montrose Park or behind Dumbarton Oaks looking at the clouds and collecting flowers.
Ah, the 60s. Those were the days when a march was a march was a march. Trash cans on fire (some of us), guns with bayonets (not us), nightsticks (not us), and tear gas, don't forget the tear gas (definitely not us).
At the end of one march, my housemates and I were back home at 20th & O near Dupont Circle with wet washcloths over our faces to help block the tear gas from our eyes.
But our cat, Lewis Cheese, poor thing, passed out in the hall closet from the fumes.
If we're lucky none of that will happen tomorrow.
Especially if all 2 billion people planning to celebrate stay at their own events in Rio, Shanghai, Sydney, London, and Tokyo, and don't try to travel here.
What's different on the planet now is the sheer number of people -- three times as many human beings on the earth now as there were back then -- all needing food, water, shelter, and gasoline . . .
But if we're going green, maybe not so much gasoline. I wonder, though, how many of us will take the Metro or walk down to the concert in the 95-degree heat.
Probably not me . . .
Saturday, June 30, 2007
She's a dear friend of mine, and she and her partner, Sue Lenaerts, maintain her Web site of poetry, prose, commentary, humor photos, and more. Visit Judith's Web site!
You'll be a better person for the visit, believe me. There are articles to read, poems and haikus to experience, and you'll learn first hand about Judith's outspoken, outrageous, heartfelt love of telling it like it is, and living life to the fullest no matter what.
Recently, Judith went out on her son's boat, and he took a wonderful photo of her. Take a look!
Friday, June 29, 2007
Does everything have to turn into a mythic test? Well, yes. It's kind of fun, isn't it?
Especially when you're somebody like me -- a tad obsessive. I impose deadlines on myself for my own good. I think it has to do with having religiosity (don't you love that word?) conflicts as a child.
My grandpa was a Methodist, which according to my memory is a religion that makes sure to celebrate every child's birthday with a little cake the size of a coaster topped with a miniature carosel that actually played a tinkling rendition of the Birthday Song.
I'm not sure what these celebrations had to do with learning about the Method. For me, Sunday school was about parties or dress performances on the stage with the red velvet curtain in the church basement. I debuted "My Little Red Umbrella," to a throng of Methodists when I was 4.
I still remember the riotous applause. Those Methodists sure knew how to clap!
Thursday, June 28, 2007
And now that I have the blog, I'll be blogging daily? Posting poems? Cool photos? Deep thoughts?
Ah, whatever thoughts from the pond happen to float to the top. And, believe me, there's a lot floating around these days. Here's a photo of me in Cabo San Lucas around Halloween last year.
You'd think I never worked a day in my life, and vacation is my middle name. Ah if that were true . . .