I didn't know how to write about the topic of this posting until I remembered a favorite poem (that was also put to music) from my childhood, "Trees" by the American poet, Joyce Kilmer.
I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth's sweet flowing breast;
A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A tree that may in Summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.
"Trees" was originally published in Trees and Other Poems. Joyce Kilmer. New York: George H. Doran Company, 1914.
I first learned about "Trees" and Joyce Kilmer when I was, perhaps, in first or second grade, and my church's Cherub (I was a cherub in name only.) Choir director (who would in later years become my mother-in-law) had the Cherub Choir sing a song that was based upon Kilmer's poem. The words have stuck in my head for over fifty years although I can only sing the notes that go to the poem's first line.
Yesterday I heard a reporting piece, on network television, about a special survivor from the World Trade Center attacks on 9/11 - a pear tree. As rubble was being removed, in the search for survivors and victims, this tree was discovered under twelve feet of concrete. Battered, bruised and nearly destroyed, the tree later displayed a tiny bit of new growth and was moved to an off-site location where it has been loved and cared for since the disaster. It carries with it scars and burn marks from its fateful position at Ground Zero but now stands strong and viable at thirty-five feet tall, a reminder of death and destruction coupled with life, courage and rebirth. It will be relocated back at Ground Zero, among the other trees that will be planted, in time for the tenth anniversary of the 9/11 attacks and the unveiling of the Memorial site.
What a beautiful and inspirational story about one tree that survived against all odds. I think that Joyce Kilmer - who himself was a victim of WWI as a soldier in the 165th Infantry Regiment, dying in 1918, at the age of 31, in the Second Battle of the Marne - was a man with a vision.
Thank you, Joyce Kilmer. I hope someone remembers your poem as the pear tree is being replanted.
Ancora imparo
Monday, September 13, 2010
Searching For.......
As I was 'futzing' around with my rapidly cooling coffee just now, I came to the abrupt realization that the perfect cup of coffee is something that I am always searching for. Coffee and I really do not get along very well any more but I am yet reluctant to give up the brew that I have come to enjoy and appreciate. As with many things, my SO and I have conflicting preferences when it comes to coffee. He likes his brew to be strong and robust. My stomach, on the other hand, requires a more mellow, less acidic cuppajoe. Even then, mine must be tempered with either a non-dairy-type creamer or the ubiquitous and oxymoronic fat-free cream. With all of those precautions, I often end up with symptoms that tell me I really should not drink coffee any longer. Still I search, determined to find the mellow coffee bean that I can grow old with.
The perfect-coffee thought process then brought me to the path of thinking about what other 'things' do I constantly search for the perfect example of. Bananas came to mind almost instantly.
Have you ever observed grocery store shoppers lingering over and fingering most of the bananas laid out in the banana display?
I go in and out of banana-buying streaks. Bananas are no exception to the now-familiar story of yin and yang with my SO and I. We both enjoy the flavor of bananas, but my digestive system is no longer in sync with banana chemistry. Occasionally I do cave into a banana-craving urge, paying for the urge dearly, which, therefore,limits my banana-buying exposure. I, too, am always in search of the perfect banana.
Buying bananas is a very personal experience. Some shoppers (my dad, for one) prefer a soft banana, with some brown ripening spots visible. This stage of ripeness is repulsive to most of my senses. I only see this type of banana as a tasty candidate for banana bread. Others prefer their bananas to be on the greenish side, so green that it is difficult to remove the peel from the fruit. This type of banana seems to me like chewing chalk. Then there is the perfect banana, one which is half-way between the banana-bread ingredient and the chalk-banana. But......purchasing bananas that will keep you in supply with constant perfect bananas is another skill, in and of itself. You must buy really green bananas that will ripen in time, you must buy kinda-green bananas that will ripen in a day or two and you must buy two or three bananas that are ready-to-eat the moment you arrive home. This, my friends, is banana-buying science.
Then there is the search for the perfect picture-taking pose, of which I seem to have yet to discover. I avoid the camera like the plague. In posterity, there will be no photos available of me, only whispered remembrances, folk-lore and urban legends.
Here's to searching for perfection......for whatever it is that the perfect 'one' is evading your grasp.
My coffee needs warming again. Some things never change.
Ancora imparo
The perfect-coffee thought process then brought me to the path of thinking about what other 'things' do I constantly search for the perfect example of. Bananas came to mind almost instantly.
Have you ever observed grocery store shoppers lingering over and fingering most of the bananas laid out in the banana display?
I go in and out of banana-buying streaks. Bananas are no exception to the now-familiar story of yin and yang with my SO and I. We both enjoy the flavor of bananas, but my digestive system is no longer in sync with banana chemistry. Occasionally I do cave into a banana-craving urge, paying for the urge dearly, which, therefore,limits my banana-buying exposure. I, too, am always in search of the perfect banana.
Buying bananas is a very personal experience. Some shoppers (my dad, for one) prefer a soft banana, with some brown ripening spots visible. This stage of ripeness is repulsive to most of my senses. I only see this type of banana as a tasty candidate for banana bread. Others prefer their bananas to be on the greenish side, so green that it is difficult to remove the peel from the fruit. This type of banana seems to me like chewing chalk. Then there is the perfect banana, one which is half-way between the banana-bread ingredient and the chalk-banana. But......purchasing bananas that will keep you in supply with constant perfect bananas is another skill, in and of itself. You must buy really green bananas that will ripen in time, you must buy kinda-green bananas that will ripen in a day or two and you must buy two or three bananas that are ready-to-eat the moment you arrive home. This, my friends, is banana-buying science.
Then there is the search for the perfect picture-taking pose, of which I seem to have yet to discover. I avoid the camera like the plague. In posterity, there will be no photos available of me, only whispered remembrances, folk-lore and urban legends.
Here's to searching for perfection......for whatever it is that the perfect 'one' is evading your grasp.
My coffee needs warming again. Some things never change.
Ancora imparo
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Too Much To Analyze
The world seems to be changing at warp speed - or ludicrous speed, as in the movie "Spaceballs". In fact, so much of the information that comes along seems just plain ludicrous. Period.
As readers may know, I love my Merriam-Webster's Eleventh Edition Collegiate Dictionary and I visited it, once again, to locate a definitive definition of ludicrous. Below is what I found.
lu-di-crous 1: amusing or laughable through obvious absurdity, incongruity, exaggeration or eccentricity. 2: meriting derisive laughter or scorn as absurdly inept, false, or foolish
Below is what I see.
Ancora imparo
As readers may know, I love my Merriam-Webster's Eleventh Edition Collegiate Dictionary and I visited it, once again, to locate a definitive definition of ludicrous. Below is what I found.
lu-di-crous 1: amusing or laughable through obvious absurdity, incongruity, exaggeration or eccentricity. 2: meriting derisive laughter or scorn as absurdly inept, false, or foolish
Below is what I see.
- The Floridian pastor of a very small congregation has garnered too much air time and print space and has been given a ludicrous amount of media attention which fermented into a world-wide hornet's nest.
- Moderate alcohol consumption - bad/no alcohol good v.s. moderate alcohol consumption - good/no alcohol questionable
- Bad bacon v.s. the now 'good' bacon;
- bgh - bovine growth hormone - very bad. Oops, it is naturally present in all bovines.
- Caffeine v.s. no caffeine
- Bad butter - good margarine. Oops. Bad margarine - good butter
- Bare feet - bad v.s. expensive shoes -good. Oops. Now it is no shoes - good v.s. expensive shoes not-so-good
- Bad public behavior - just plain bad v.s. bad public behavior good-for-the-career
- Google past v.s. Google "Instant". Leave well-enough alone.
- Stating the obvious v.s. obfuscation. Do 'they' think 'we're' stupid?
Ancora imparo
Saturday, September 11, 2010
Hyphennistically Speaking
I knew about this meeting for several days in advance. I had prepared as much as I could, based on what I knew about the attendees. Actually, I was excited and nervous, all at once. The meeting guests would be staying overnight and heading out early the next morning. Wanting to make a good impression, care had been taken in selecting menu items and tidying up the condo.
When the guests arrived, introductions were made and pleasantries exchanged. Maybe a few awkward conversational pauses occurred at first but soon the conversation flowed freely, shifting from topic to topic with ease. The two guests were fine conversationalists, moving in and out of the discussions as their interests dictated or tasks allowed. Clearly these were people with keen intellects, sharp wits, and quick senses of humor. The time passed rapidly and suddenly the clock and our bodies indicated that sleep might be in order.
Sleep for me was a bit elusive due to the trivial facts my mind tried to recover following the evening's discussions. About 3:00 a.m., I seized upon the final trivial fact lodged in the file cabinets of my mind and fell asleep, only to have the alarm sound a short two and one half hours later.
Breakfast brought more lively repartee and, toward the end of the meal, one of the guests turned to my SO and me and said, "So, are there any other questions you would like to ask me during this interview?" For a split second, we were speechless, and then burst out laughing. We never considered the meeting as an interview but could certainly see, in retrospect, how one could construe the meeting as such. We retorted, "Well, are there any questions you'd like to ask us?" The response was negative......indeed all had been learned that was necessary at that juncture. We are still chuckling at the memory of the question put to us!
We are up for another meeting. During our time together last night, we learned a bit more about
punctuation marks, mainly the hyphen, and American Idol winners and runners-up. I can't wait to see what the next discussion topics might be. I'll have to brush up on my current, past and future events.
Grammatically speaking, no one harshed my mellow.
Ancora imparo
When the guests arrived, introductions were made and pleasantries exchanged. Maybe a few awkward conversational pauses occurred at first but soon the conversation flowed freely, shifting from topic to topic with ease. The two guests were fine conversationalists, moving in and out of the discussions as their interests dictated or tasks allowed. Clearly these were people with keen intellects, sharp wits, and quick senses of humor. The time passed rapidly and suddenly the clock and our bodies indicated that sleep might be in order.
Sleep for me was a bit elusive due to the trivial facts my mind tried to recover following the evening's discussions. About 3:00 a.m., I seized upon the final trivial fact lodged in the file cabinets of my mind and fell asleep, only to have the alarm sound a short two and one half hours later.
Breakfast brought more lively repartee and, toward the end of the meal, one of the guests turned to my SO and me and said, "So, are there any other questions you would like to ask me during this interview?" For a split second, we were speechless, and then burst out laughing. We never considered the meeting as an interview but could certainly see, in retrospect, how one could construe the meeting as such. We retorted, "Well, are there any questions you'd like to ask us?" The response was negative......indeed all had been learned that was necessary at that juncture. We are still chuckling at the memory of the question put to us!
We are up for another meeting. During our time together last night, we learned a bit more about
punctuation marks, mainly the hyphen, and American Idol winners and runners-up. I can't wait to see what the next discussion topics might be. I'll have to brush up on my current, past and future events.
Grammatically speaking, no one harshed my mellow.
Ancora imparo
Friday, September 10, 2010
Feel Good v.s. Right
Finding the right title for my daily posting of Ancora imparo is something that I take very seriously. I'd say I'm happy with ninety percent of the titles I've selected. There are times when I'll have a topic in mind but the title does not solidify until part-way through the development of the posting when it comes in a 'voila!' moment.
Blog topics are another matter. There may be a seed for an idea that gets planted but it does not germinate for a few days, or even weeks for that matter. Other times, the idea has grown from seed to fruit in a matter of days or even hours. Today's topic kernel took shape yesterday and festered all through the night until it was begging to be written........'as we speak'.
I wanted the title, for today, to be "It May Feel Good But Will It Feel Right?" Allow me to explain while speaking in code.
I have an acquaintance who is a real curmudgeon. He is a walking, talking prime example of the definition of the word. (This person is not a relative, nor does he live near me so do not spend any time musing over who this person might be.)
Merriam-Webster's Collegiate Dictionary - Eleventh Edition: n [origin unknown] (1568) 1 archaic: MISER 2: a crusty, ill-tempered, and usually old man
This person has no verbal filter and is adept at hurting the feelings of others. He is devoid of tact - most of the time - and seems to relish making remarks that make others squirm. I am thankful that our paths do not cross very frequently because when they do, I come away from the encounter wishing I'd said this, that and the other thing in response to his cranky and crabby running commentary. This is why I wanted to publish the title of today's posting as "It May Feel Good But Will It Feel Right". I know that if I made a retort it would feel good at the time but would make me feel very low and......curmudgeonly.....myself a short time later. It is difficult not to stoop to the level of a curmudgeon. My challenge is to try to forget the man's seemingly natural ornery demeanor so that the next time our lives intersect, I can view him with fresh eyes.
What is that saying about rose-colored glasses? I need a pair.
Ancora imparo
Blog topics are another matter. There may be a seed for an idea that gets planted but it does not germinate for a few days, or even weeks for that matter. Other times, the idea has grown from seed to fruit in a matter of days or even hours. Today's topic kernel took shape yesterday and festered all through the night until it was begging to be written........'as we speak'.
I wanted the title, for today, to be "It May Feel Good But Will It Feel Right?" Allow me to explain while speaking in code.
I have an acquaintance who is a real curmudgeon. He is a walking, talking prime example of the definition of the word. (This person is not a relative, nor does he live near me so do not spend any time musing over who this person might be.)
Merriam-Webster's Collegiate Dictionary - Eleventh Edition: n [origin unknown] (1568) 1 archaic: MISER 2: a crusty, ill-tempered, and usually old man
This person has no verbal filter and is adept at hurting the feelings of others. He is devoid of tact - most of the time - and seems to relish making remarks that make others squirm. I am thankful that our paths do not cross very frequently because when they do, I come away from the encounter wishing I'd said this, that and the other thing in response to his cranky and crabby running commentary. This is why I wanted to publish the title of today's posting as "It May Feel Good But Will It Feel Right". I know that if I made a retort it would feel good at the time but would make me feel very low and......curmudgeonly.....myself a short time later. It is difficult not to stoop to the level of a curmudgeon. My challenge is to try to forget the man's seemingly natural ornery demeanor so that the next time our lives intersect, I can view him with fresh eyes.
What is that saying about rose-colored glasses? I need a pair.
Ancora imparo
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Breaking Free
Do you ever feel fettered, confined, restricted, bound, limited.....both in thought and movement? Do you ever feel as if your thoughts and actions are dictated by others and outside sources? Do you ever sense the weight of the chains of this world and feel like Atlas?
Not too long ago,I heard someone say in passing, that he felt like Atlas and "needed to break free". At the time I laughed, along with everyone else, but, as with many of my posting topics, this one got parked somewhere in my cerebrum and has simmered, like a good pot of soup. Yesterday, my SO and I got stuck in a conversational loop about the woes of the world and I came away from the discussion feeling like Atlas. When I made the connection to what another had said about Atlas, I smiled and thought to myself, "Oh, lighten up!" I made myself smile and moved on. But......Atlas stayed with me and emerged, once again, this morning from my subconscious. I decided to go browsing online and re-acquaint myself with Atlas. I'm confident I had a teacher, somewhere along the line, who taught all about Atlas during a Greek mythology unit, but at the time I was having 'none of that' and paid too little attention. (Oh, to go back in school-time!)
In Greek mythology, Atlas was a Titan who carried the heavens on his back. He was condemned by Zeus to stand at the western edge of Gaia (Earth) and hold up Uranus (the Sky) on his shoulders, to prevent the two from resuming their primordial embrace. A common interpretation, today, is that Atlas was forced to hold the Earth on his shoulders, but the Classical interpretation portrays Atlas as supporting the celestial spheres, not a globe. (Paraphrased from Wikipedia.)
For me, the key difference between Atlas and us Atlas-wanna-be's is that Atlas' fate was determined by someone else; i.e. Zeus, whereas, we assume the Atlas posture pretty much from a volunteer position. Oh, I have no doubt that, when I feel like Atlas, others may have played into that current mind-set, but the ultimate answer is that I allowed myself to get into whatever situation I would then give anything to be released from. I may not want to accept that conclusion when I am in the throes of 'Whymedom', but I do know, upon careful inspection, that it was choices made by me that got me to where I didn't want to be.
What I need to do now is go back to Greek mythology and search out a character who was pelted by life but was able to continually throw off the constant onslaught, discarding woes and issues right and left, just like a discus thrower would do. I like that mental image. Feel a weight......toss it out the window of life.
I'm opening my windows right now. I hope you'll do the same.
Ancora imparo
Not too long ago,I heard someone say in passing, that he felt like Atlas and "needed to break free". At the time I laughed, along with everyone else, but, as with many of my posting topics, this one got parked somewhere in my cerebrum and has simmered, like a good pot of soup. Yesterday, my SO and I got stuck in a conversational loop about the woes of the world and I came away from the discussion feeling like Atlas. When I made the connection to what another had said about Atlas, I smiled and thought to myself, "Oh, lighten up!" I made myself smile and moved on. But......Atlas stayed with me and emerged, once again, this morning from my subconscious. I decided to go browsing online and re-acquaint myself with Atlas. I'm confident I had a teacher, somewhere along the line, who taught all about Atlas during a Greek mythology unit, but at the time I was having 'none of that' and paid too little attention. (Oh, to go back in school-time!)
In Greek mythology, Atlas was a Titan who carried the heavens on his back. He was condemned by Zeus to stand at the western edge of Gaia (Earth) and hold up Uranus (the Sky) on his shoulders, to prevent the two from resuming their primordial embrace. A common interpretation, today, is that Atlas was forced to hold the Earth on his shoulders, but the Classical interpretation portrays Atlas as supporting the celestial spheres, not a globe. (Paraphrased from Wikipedia.)
For me, the key difference between Atlas and us Atlas-wanna-be's is that Atlas' fate was determined by someone else; i.e. Zeus, whereas, we assume the Atlas posture pretty much from a volunteer position. Oh, I have no doubt that, when I feel like Atlas, others may have played into that current mind-set, but the ultimate answer is that I allowed myself to get into whatever situation I would then give anything to be released from. I may not want to accept that conclusion when I am in the throes of 'Whymedom', but I do know, upon careful inspection, that it was choices made by me that got me to where I didn't want to be.
What I need to do now is go back to Greek mythology and search out a character who was pelted by life but was able to continually throw off the constant onslaught, discarding woes and issues right and left, just like a discus thrower would do. I like that mental image. Feel a weight......toss it out the window of life.
I'm opening my windows right now. I hope you'll do the same.
Ancora imparo
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Pass The Duct Tape, Please
I really struggle with my mouth. Always have, perhaps I always will. Some of what I write today may sound familiar to this blog's readers, and I apologize, in advance, for any repetition.
Maybe it was growing up as a faux only-child that unleashed my speak-up gene. (My two older sisters were born quite a few years ahead of me. I was an "oops" child, born when my mother was nearly forty years old. ) Maybe it was because, as a child, both my parents worked and, after my care-giving maternal grandmother died, I did spend quite a bit of time alone, talking to who else - me! Who knows? I've devoted a fair amount of time to analyzing myself and have yet to come to a firm set of conclusions.
What I do know is this: Put me in a room full of people who are confused, but embarrassed to ask clarifying questions, and I'll be the one who will ask the first question. Over the years, it has not been usual for a friend, seated next to me, to elbow me and whisper in my ear, "I don't get this. Ask............"
Thus far, in my rapidly disappearing youth, I've managed to mostly avoid self-induced trouble,
and life-threatening situations created by my mouth. But.......here is my fear. As I move closer to my one-hundredth year than my year of birth, I sense that my aural governor is beginning to lose its effectiveness. This causes me great concern that one day, I may find myself in a poorly-run, interminable, unnecessarily long meeting and finally blurt out all that my mind has been thinking but my internal governor had previously prevented me from declaring to one and all present.
I have two upcoming-meetings, on my calendar, where I know that my urge to verbally purge will be great, but I will have-have-have to bite my tongue to the point of drawing blood. Because I am not fond of the taste of blood, I think that duct tape, strategically placed, might just be my saving grace, but I worry that it might look odd for a meeting-attendee to have duct tape placed over his or her mouth. I've thought of stuffing my mouth with soda crackers, just prior to the beginning of the meeting, but that would seem to be socially even more strange.
I'm leaning toward the duct tape option. Anyone got a spare roll or two or three?
Ancora imparo
Maybe it was growing up as a faux only-child that unleashed my speak-up gene. (My two older sisters were born quite a few years ahead of me. I was an "oops" child, born when my mother was nearly forty years old. ) Maybe it was because, as a child, both my parents worked and, after my care-giving maternal grandmother died, I did spend quite a bit of time alone, talking to who else - me! Who knows? I've devoted a fair amount of time to analyzing myself and have yet to come to a firm set of conclusions.
What I do know is this: Put me in a room full of people who are confused, but embarrassed to ask clarifying questions, and I'll be the one who will ask the first question. Over the years, it has not been usual for a friend, seated next to me, to elbow me and whisper in my ear, "I don't get this. Ask............"
Thus far, in my rapidly disappearing youth, I've managed to mostly avoid self-induced trouble,
and life-threatening situations created by my mouth. But.......here is my fear. As I move closer to my one-hundredth year than my year of birth, I sense that my aural governor is beginning to lose its effectiveness. This causes me great concern that one day, I may find myself in a poorly-run, interminable, unnecessarily long meeting and finally blurt out all that my mind has been thinking but my internal governor had previously prevented me from declaring to one and all present.
I have two upcoming-meetings, on my calendar, where I know that my urge to verbally purge will be great, but I will have-have-have to bite my tongue to the point of drawing blood. Because I am not fond of the taste of blood, I think that duct tape, strategically placed, might just be my saving grace, but I worry that it might look odd for a meeting-attendee to have duct tape placed over his or her mouth. I've thought of stuffing my mouth with soda crackers, just prior to the beginning of the meeting, but that would seem to be socially even more strange.
I'm leaning toward the duct tape option. Anyone got a spare roll or two or three?
Ancora imparo
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