Friendly Skies, Where Are You?

We leave for Hawaii in two days. What a celebration this will be! Brian and Ashley's wedding and a vacation in Maui! My lesson plans are written and delivered to the subs, the mid-term was created and given today and I've asked for coverage for my tutoring sessions. Warm weather clothing and sunscreen has been purchased, reading material is lined up, the portable knitting project has been decided upon and we're eating up what's left in the fridge. Stacks of clothing, maps, guidebooks, snorkel equipment, and shoes are waiting on a card table especially set up for the purpose of packing with the four carry-on's waiting underneath. Pills are counted out. The paper and mail have been stopped. The house will soon be clean. Neighbors are notified and rides have been arranged.

But I can't find out where I'm supposed to go to get my anti-fear of flying injection. Does anyone know? Why don't I know this? Maybe I missed a class on this subject when I signed up for the other freshman requirements. Or perhaps I was absent when everyone else received the antidote. It's blatantly obvious to me when I study all the other flying passengers that they know things I don't know. They learned how to sit on an airplane without deep breathing. I haven't caught anyone else popping prescribed pills. They even SLEEP. Is there a kiosk at the Town Center that hands out free pamphlets about flying without fear classes and where they're located? How do I tend to this problem that has somehow gone unattended all my life? Am I the only person out of the loop about how to be casual about flying?

Much Better Than My Thoughts on Poetry

"Where does a poem come from?. . .I do everything to words. I'd be happy to send them to Florida or buy them hot dogs, anything, if they'll just come through. . .The most important thing in a poem is silence. . .Must poetry have music?. . .the poem at the end of the world. . .Writing poetry is a kind of rapture, saying the unsayable, a conversation with the world, a record of time spent in jail, anger. . ."

and here's a good poem

How Poetry Comes to Me

It comes blundering over the

Boulders at night, it stays

Frightened outside the

Range of my campfire

I go to meet it at the

Edge of the light

by Gary Snyder

All this from the book The Language of Life by Bill Moyers and all for Nancy.

Extreme Eating

My goal is to lose 50 pounds by the time we leave for Maui in two weeks. I've already lost nine pounds. Yes, I know this is ridiculous. Every weight loss "plan" is ridiculous for the simple reason that they don't work. Oh sure, the extreme eater can lose a few pounds here on Weight Watchers, a few pounds there at Jenny Craig and maybe even some pounds on her own with plan and forethought, but the lbs. will slowly "inch" themselves back on.

What's up with that? Easy. We are eaters who are food obsessed and food addicted. Eating is a solemn ritual for us even as we dive bomb into the Safeway chocolate chip chunk cookies, holding one in our mouths and two in our hands as we juggle the phone and the current reading book on our way to the recliner. And, if you don't know about them, those Safeway cookies are BIG. It's all part of the ritual, I say. Just the thought of reading my book accompanied by the pleasure of sweet texture and chocolate can bring on a food high. Havarti cheese on Triscuits, any flavor of Ben and Jerry ice cream, a pile of hot pancakes with too much butter that is melting into syrupy pools on the plate. . .PASTRAMI ON RYE WITH SWISS! You get the idea: they produce a rush, a euphoria, a sense of total well-being and happiness that can be repeated with each little food binge.

Deprived of these sensual eating experiences, we go slightly mad. What's fun about 3.5 ounces of lean meat served up with a single fruit, a naked vegetable and a scrawny piece of Melba toast? And add in the lack of a fitting dessert and you have a dinner partner who is raging and crying inside.

These eaters need to figure out this major life challenge is not managed in little journals of food diaries or in groups of cheering dieters but inside their own heads. It all makes sense even to me. But I still take on whatever new diet gimmick comes along just to "give me a jump start" and then I'll be able to eat healthily on my own. Yeah, right. Wish me luck in Hawaii.

News About the Owl

Bobbie and I will spend the day in Pacific City at the Birds and Blues Festival this Saturday. We'll do three readings and maybe sell a few books while we're at it. But we'll for sure enjoy the speaker and just hanging out with folks who like birds. Maybe we'll hear some music as well! And we'll take our cameras and get some cool beach photos. All in all, it will be fun. If you're in the P. City area on Saturday, drop in and see us. In fact, do go to the Coast; it's supposed to be nice there and there might be a chance for us all to see Spring weather for another day.

April 25 we'll be at the Irvington Artisan Market. They've asked us to join their "local artists" group and we feel honored about that. It should be a good gig for everyone. I hope I can manage to get the ad in the photo section on my page here. (Sorry. It didn't work. I don't know why. Sometimes computer stuff is just too much for me.)

You can read a little more about these two events at the website.

Two Falling Trees

Last Friday the spring wind storm took down half the 50 year old maple tree that lived in my sister's yard so graciously for all that time. She remembers grabbing its twiggy beginning and being told by our dad to treat it gently because it would become a big shade tree someday. It did but it found its end in the wind of last week. In fact, it fell across a moving car, blocked the street and caused neighborhood chaos for hours. No one was hurt although the two passengers in the car were scared to pieces. Another two feet and the story could have ended in a deadly way. So when Bobbie came home, neighbor Diane was handling the media, neighbor Sue was handling all the emergency vehicles and all the neighbors were enjoying the spectacle. Many commented on the sadness they felt at losing this iconic tree and my sister is really mourning its loss.

Here at home, my friend Karalee is dying of cancer. She is like a tree herself in the strong, comforting, no-nonsense presence she has provided in the forest of life. She remains cheerful, positive and engaged in living even as the trunk of her shrivels and whitens. She is taking her leave with poise and dignity. I have boundless admiration for her and appreciate being a part of the family as we do what we can to help her take her place in eternity. Good-by, Karalee. You are falling not to the ground but into the universe.

The Dud

Actually, students had more of an "unresponse" than anything else to the suggestion that I use the "f" word in class. I think they are so used to it that it doesn't make the impression it once did. I tried to encourage someone to say he/she would be offended but there were no takers. I can tell you, however, that as a young teacher in 1967 I would have lost my job and been ridden out of town on a rail accompanied only by my team teaching mates and some enlightened students who still keep in touch with me. My, my how the passing of time changes things.

Not Really

I didn't really use the f-bomb. I just posed it to the class as a "what if." I don't think I have it in me to say that word in the classroom setting. My regard for my profession is way too high. I can think of other ways to shock students. One way is to ask them to raise their hands if they are listening. . . .

What Happened (read the post below first)

Nothing happened other than an orderly report to the new classroom. We settled in and then had a truly interesting conversation based on an article I read in The Oregonian earlier this month about people raising their middle fingers to police officers. The writer managed to report an incident and its background without ever revealing his own perspective. The discussion was a successful place to jump off to an effective start in a class based on the writing mode of argument and persuasion. Their responses to the idea that I could use the "f" word in class surprised me. What would you guess they said?

The Five Minute Blog

The second class of the new term will start in mere moments. The lesson is ready, the roster is prepared, and the scope of the term is in my head. But today is April 1. And I have to move the classroom to a different location. The department secretary prepared a nifty little sign that I will hand walk over to the building of the original classroom, announce the change and then post the sign on the door before we leave en masse for the new classroom site. Will this change be impacted by any sort of April Fool prank? How could it? Let me know if you come up with an idea for prankability with this unusual change. I always try to anticipate how students will react but am not always as successful as I could be.

I'll return to this blog later today and let you know what happens. Stay tuned and have a happy April 1 yourself this good day.