Mia Emmeline in
The Ugly Pumpkin
The Ugly Pumpkin
October 25 is Saints Crispin's and Crispian's Day
Those Protestant-types among us will likely not remember any significance about this day in relation to the aforementioned saints, two shoemaker brothers named Crispin and Crispian; that is unless the Protestant-type in question has ever seen Shakespeare's Henry V and heard the rousing "St.Crispin's Day speech" given by King Henry to his vastly-outnumbered men just prior to the Battle of Agincourt.
Those Protestant-types among us will likely not remember any significance about this day in relation to the aforementioned saints, two shoemaker brothers named Crispin and Crispian; that is unless the Protestant-type in question has ever seen Shakespeare's Henry V and heard the rousing "St.Crispin's Day speech" given by King Henry to his vastly-outnumbered men just prior to the Battle of Agincourt.
What a speech! I remember reading and hearing it when I was in Yancy's class at TJC, some 19 years back. I actually hear the words in my head as they were read then, and still feel the crescendo in Kenneth Branagh's delivery when he gets to the "We few, we happy few" lines. There is nothing in my real life that I can point to in any way that is similar to some amazing victory at Agincourt, but this speech still energizes me. I think that's why I wanted to try to teach English in the first place--it is not English or Writing that I wanted to pass on, but the experience that reading great writing gives.
This day is called the feast of Crispian:
He that outlives this day and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when this day is named,
And rouse him at the name of Crispian.
He that shall live this day, and see old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,
And say, 'To-morrow is Saint Crispian:'
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars,
And say, 'These wounds I had on Crispin's day.'
Old men forget: yet all shall be forgot,
But he'll remember with advantages
What feats he did that day. Then shall our names,
Familiar in his mouth as household words,
Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter,
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester,
Be in their flowing cups freshly remembered.
This story shall the good man teach his son;
And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be rememberèd;
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile
This day shall gentle his condition:
And gentlemen in England, now a-bed
Shall think themselves accursed they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day. (4.3.43)
The Enigma We Answer by Living
Einstein didn't speak as a child
waiting till a sentence formed and
emerged full-blown from his head.
I do the thing, he later wrote, which
nature drives me to do. Does a fish
know the water in which he swims?
This came up in conversation
with a man I met by chance,
friend of a friend of a friend,
who passed through town carrying
three specimen boxes of insects
he'd collected in the Grand Canyon
one for mosquitoes, one for honeybees,
one for butterflies and skippers,
each lined up in a row, pinned and labeled,
tiny morphologic differences
revealing how adaptation
happened over time. The deeper down
he hiked, the older the rock
and the younger
the strategy for living in that place.
And in my dining room the universe
found its way into this man
bent on cataloguing each innovation,
though he knows it will all disappear
the labels, the skippers, the canyon.
We agreed then, the old friends and the new,
that it's wrong to think people are a thing apart
from the whole, as if we'd sprung
from an idea out in space, rather than emerging
from the sequenced larval mess of creation
that binds us with the others,
all playing the endgame of a beautiful planet
that's made us want to name
each thing and try to tell
its story against the vanishing.
-- Alison Hawthorne Deming in Genius Loci:
Einstein didn't speak as a child
waiting till a sentence formed and
emerged full-blown from his head.
I do the thing, he later wrote, which
nature drives me to do. Does a fish
know the water in which he swims?
This came up in conversation
with a man I met by chance,
friend of a friend of a friend,
who passed through town carrying
three specimen boxes of insects
he'd collected in the Grand Canyon
one for mosquitoes, one for honeybees,
one for butterflies and skippers,
each lined up in a row, pinned and labeled,
tiny morphologic differences
revealing how adaptation
happened over time. The deeper down
he hiked, the older the rock
and the younger
the strategy for living in that place.
And in my dining room the universe
found its way into this man
bent on cataloguing each innovation,
though he knows it will all disappear
the labels, the skippers, the canyon.
We agreed then, the old friends and the new,
that it's wrong to think people are a thing apart
from the whole, as if we'd sprung
from an idea out in space, rather than emerging
from the sequenced larval mess of creation
that binds us with the others,
all playing the endgame of a beautiful planet
that's made us want to name
each thing and try to tell
its story against the vanishing.
-- Alison Hawthorne Deming in Genius Loci:
I Go Back to May 1937
by Sharon Olds
I see them standing at the formal gates of their colleges,
I see my father strolling out
under the ochre sandstone arch, the
red tiles glinting like bent
plates of blood behind his head, I
see my mother with a few light books at her hip
standing at the pillar made of tiny bricks with the
wrought-iron gate still open behind her, its
sword-tips black in the May air,
they are about to graduate, they are about to get married,
they are kids, they are dumb, all they know is they are
innocent, they would never hurt anybody.
I want to go up to them and say Stop,
don't do it--she's the wrong woman,
he's the wrong man, you are going to do things
you cannot imagine you would ever do,
you are going to do bad things to children,
you are going to suffer in ways you never heard of,
you are going to want to die. I want to go
up to them there in the late May sunlight and say it,
her hungry pretty blank face turning to me,
her pitiful beautiful untouched body,
his arrogant handsome blind face turning to me,
his pitiful beautiful untouched body,
but I don't do it. I want to live. I
take them up like the male and female
paper dolls and bang them together
at the hips like chips of flint as if to
strike sparks from them, I say
Do what you are going to do, and I will tell about it.
by Sharon Olds
I see them standing at the formal gates of their colleges,
I see my father strolling out
under the ochre sandstone arch, the
red tiles glinting like bent
plates of blood behind his head, I
see my mother with a few light books at her hip
standing at the pillar made of tiny bricks with the
wrought-iron gate still open behind her, its
sword-tips black in the May air,
they are about to graduate, they are about to get married,
they are kids, they are dumb, all they know is they are
innocent, they would never hurt anybody.
I want to go up to them and say Stop,
don't do it--she's the wrong woman,
he's the wrong man, you are going to do things
you cannot imagine you would ever do,
you are going to do bad things to children,
you are going to suffer in ways you never heard of,
you are going to want to die. I want to go
up to them there in the late May sunlight and say it,
her hungry pretty blank face turning to me,
her pitiful beautiful untouched body,
his arrogant handsome blind face turning to me,
his pitiful beautiful untouched body,
but I don't do it. I want to live. I
take them up like the male and female
paper dolls and bang them together
at the hips like chips of flint as if to
strike sparks from them, I say
Do what you are going to do, and I will tell about it.
Autumn round up: Who can say what the cooler weather will bring?
This is just a bunch of photos I have taken lately.
Mia lost another front tooth!
Josh Davidson likes to play peek-a-boo!
Stacy at lunch at Pho
Suzy and Terry at lunch at Don Juan's
Big Tex at the State Fair
Big Stacy at the State Fair
Mia and her Ms. Jeanes!
Mia has a spoon nose
This is my Harley, even though I am not a Harley kinda guy.
This is sweet Kelly!
This is just a bunch of photos I have taken lately.
Mia lost another front tooth!
Josh Davidson likes to play peek-a-boo!
Stacy at lunch at Pho
Suzy and Terry at lunch at Don Juan's
Big Tex at the State Fair
Big Stacy at the State Fair
Mia and her Ms. Jeanes!
Mia has a spoon nose
This is my Harley, even though I am not a Harley kinda guy.
This is sweet Kelly!
Mike's Story
Mike found the love of his life and married her; they could finish one another's sentences. They worked hard, but they were happy together. Mike's bride conceived and gave birth to a beautiful blue-eyed baby girl, and Mike understood what it means to love unconditionally. 
When his daughter was about two years old, Mike and his wife began noticing small, light bruises appearing on their angel. Believing someone at her daycare was mistreating his angel, Mike went to her school and questioned her teachers; they claimed that they were just as befuddled as he was. One morning, while mike went to work, his wife took his daughter to the doctor. The doctor was so disturbed by what he diagnosed that mother and child were flown immediately to Dallas to Children's Hospital. As they boarded the helicopter, Mike's wife called him and he was off on what he described as the longest drive of his life. In his distress, he had to call 911--the operator he got spoke with him for half an hour, actually guiding him to the hospital.
He walked into his daughter's hospital room, where she lay hooked with tubes and sensors. His daughter greeted him so brightly that the thought of it brings tears to his eyes, even now. Se looked up at him and happily said, "Hi, Daddy!" She stayed in that hospital room for a month, and eventually came to pass away from the Leukemia that had caused her bruises.
Mike's marriage to the one he calls his soul mate melted under the loss of his baby girl. So, he moved on, eventually getting married again. His new wife had two sons from her previous marriage, and he took to raising them as though they were his own. With this new family, Mike began to carve out something of a life, though the sadness that he carried from the loss of his daughter and of the love of his life was ever present within him.
When Carrier began suffering from the economic downturn (politicians were still not daring to say the word "recession"), Mike was laid off from his job of eight years. He says, now, that his mistake was in his pride: when he looked for a replacement job, he kept looking for something in his field, that would pay as well as his Carrier job had paid. The fact is, there weren't many jobs in his field, paying well, in our area, so the days turned into months, and Mike's new family had to grapple with economic hardship: "When you are used to bringing home $1200 dollars each week, taking a job that pays $300 seems inconsequential," Mike told me. Of course, today, that $300 per week seems much too reasonable to have passed up.
Now, Mike lives on the streets. He can't get a "real" job because of his lack of transportation, his lack of an address, and his relatively poor hygiene. Let's face it--the 9-to-5 lifestyle just doesn't mesh well with someone who has fallen (or jumped) out of the system. Mike has a CDL, though, and, now tired from living on the streets for months, he hopes to recover that license and to find a job driving a truck, where it won't matter that he has no home.
Mike tells tiny fibs, like many who live on the edges of things and depend upon sympathy for this week's livelihood. He lives as part of a community of street people, and shares what he gets with a couple of them whose mental or physical deficits limit what they can do for food. Mike says that helping these friends makes him feel human, and that focusing on their problems keeps him from feeling sorry for himself. I don't know if he uses drugs, but I know that his feet are in terrible shape from walking everywhere he goes every day, often without socks. I know that something of his life on the streets is due to his own choices, but I know, too, that he would make a different choice, now.
At times, it is difficult to deal with Mike--he distracts me from my work, and assumes that I have and endless flow of cash to share with him. I struggle with a hardening of my heart towards him because I resent how quickly my handouts run out. But Mike is about my age, and it is easy for me to look into his face and see myself, to feel that it is only by grace that I sit on this side of my desk while he sits on the other.
By fate or choice--or really by both--Mike is one of the least of these. He can be either a problem to be solved, or, hopefully, an opportunity for me to feel my own humanity.
Happy Birthday, Stacy, and other July fun...
July is Stacy's Birthday month.
Because of this fact, her friends pay her extra attention...
And seek out the Great Wall of China on their iPhones' maps ap....
Stacy thinks this is all great fun!
And then she gets huggy.
So, we celebrate with her, because she is now 30.
See?!
And then our nation celebrates her birth.
And she celebrates our nation's birth right back.
And Kelly loves.
July is Stacy's Birthday month.
Because of this fact, her friends pay her extra attention...
And seek out the Great Wall of China on their iPhones' maps ap....
Stacy thinks this is all great fun!
And then she gets huggy.
So, we celebrate with her, because she is now 30.
See?!
And then our nation celebrates her birth.
And she celebrates our nation's birth right back.
And Kelly loves.
Viva la Cuidad de San Antonio!
Stacy and I traveled back to San Antonio at the end of June. She had follow-up with her surgeon after having her procedure a couple of weeks before, and we had to pick up the Volkswagen, which had developed an engine problem that we needed to get addressed before I could drive it back to Tyler. Repairs aside, the trek added up to two rental car bills (one for over $400 for three days. Thanks, Hertz!). Long story short, we tried to make the trip a little fun, albeit quick and hot!
Stacy in front of the Alamo--it always freaks me out that you can just walk right up to this place and go on inside; it seems like it should be preserved behind glass or something.
I love that, no matter how unGodly hot it is outside, when you go to the marketplace, there are always people playing music and people enjoying the music in the shade.
Stacy and I traveled back to San Antonio at the end of June. She had follow-up with her surgeon after having her procedure a couple of weeks before, and we had to pick up the Volkswagen, which had developed an engine problem that we needed to get addressed before I could drive it back to Tyler. Repairs aside, the trek added up to two rental car bills (one for over $400 for three days. Thanks, Hertz!). Long story short, we tried to make the trip a little fun, albeit quick and hot!
Stacy in front of the Alamo--it always freaks me out that you can just walk right up to this place and go on inside; it seems like it should be preserved behind glass or something.
I love that, no matter how unGodly hot it is outside, when you go to the marketplace, there are always people playing music and people enjoying the music in the shade.
This is one of the gentlemen who serenaded Stacy and me at lunch; they sang a song of love that made Stacy's heart literally swell to the point of bursting. RIP, Stacy. Howisit that retired Texicans all seem to be able to sing songs of love that cause ladies' hearts to swell and burst like that?
This is what Stacy looked like as her heart swelled...
This is what Stacy looked like as her heart swelled...
I was a disrespectful bastard, as usual, when I snapped this photo of this homeless gentleman at the marketplace. Looking at it, now, I am convinced that this might be what God looks like, if God ever looks like a man.
Finally, here's a shot of the gardens at the Spanish Governor's Palace. The whole place was great, but the gardens were a good place to sit to escape the heat and being on your feet.
Finally, here's a shot of the gardens at the Spanish Governor's Palace. The whole place was great, but the gardens were a good place to sit to escape the heat and being on your feet. Midlife crisis
I have never heard an accurate description of the infamous mid-life crisis, but I have seen the results a lot. I have seen men leave their spouses and quickly remarry, only this time someone much younger. I have seen expensive sports cars justified. I have seen "bachelor pads"--always a bit less than tidy--where men live like college guys again.
I can imagine what motivates each of these "symptoms": we marry younger women in the attempt to find a partner who looks up to us (again), and to see if we can woo girls, frankly. We justify purchasing impractical cars because (at least in many cases) we feel that we have worked a while for success and have passed up many of the toys we dreamed of when we were 19 out of responsibility. We return to a less organized lifestyle in the attempt to live simply (in a masculine fashion?)
I write all of this because I am feeling all out of sorts, lately. I don't know what to do with myself. I don't want another wife (though I would enjoy being looked up to), nor does a sports car tempt me (I haven't worked all that hard for any length of time, anyway). I do wish to live more simply, but that has been true for a long time.
No, my crisis is manifesting, right now, as sentimentality about Mia.
She is growing up so quickly, and she is so much more complicated than I thought a six-year-old would be! She finished kindergarten, did I mention that?!
I know that some of my off feeling comes from Mia's school year finishing, and some comes from the fact that I will turn 38 in a week or so (thirty-freaking-eight! I was certain I'd die before hitting thirty!). Some also comes from Stacy having surgery later this week, ultimately hoping that she can carry another baby. All of it, together, makes me feel out of control.
If I drive off and end up in Alaska or the desert anytime soon, please understand.:o)
Taking a Break from Facebook...
This is a reprint from my other blog about a fast from Facebook that I am in the beginnings of--I enter it here because it is personal, and this is my personal blog. I want to write more, soon, about this experiment.
I am weary to the bone. Everywhere I turn where there are other people, it seems a spirit of condescension has taken over where respect (arguably) used to exist. That’s against my religion.
I turn on the TV and find people screaming slogans at one another, without regards to who might be listening. And no one hears. We are desperately longing to be heard, but unwilling to listen, ourselves.
I read it on Facebook, where people with different political perspectives rail against one another as though there were a “correct” attitude to have about being alive in this country in these times, or a simple solution to problems that have plagued humankind since we discovered we were humankind. While there has always been antagonism between political camps, I feel like we have moved from a situation where people were valued despite their ideals, to one where people’s Humanity is devalued based on their ideals.
Even in Sunday school class, where “Love one another” is meant to be the organizing principal, politics creeps in and makes volatile the discussion about helping the poor, the widow and the orphan.
We really do need to strive for civil dialogue–right speech, as the Buddhists say.
Focusing on Facebook:
Despite connecting with people I had lost touch with and enjoying the wit and wisdom of friends that I would otherwise miss, there is not a day that passes that I don’t feel like killing my Facebook account (already, I barely watch television and I avoid talk radio like dental surgery). I want to rise up and operate above the noise and the haste that has hijacked discourse in my life. I want to remain rational, and not let my fear of what other people believe lead me into irrational rants against this group or that group.
I have been feeling this way for a while, now. It started when I realized that I was being snarky without cause, and it continues too often. The good of social networking far outweighs the bad (for every snipe or rant there are five baby-in-tux photos that make me smile), but I seem to remember the bad too often. So, I am going to follow the little voice inside of me and do a little experiment. I am going to give my password to a good friend of mine and have him change my password. I am going to ask him not to give my account back to me until August 11 (when Ramadan begins?).
If you are a friend and you want to visit with me during this sabbath, find me on Twitter, comment on my blog, or email me [no spaces: d di cker son 7 2 (at) yahoo (dot) com]. Better yet, call me and let’s meet up for a beer. You can tell me, face-to-face, about the music you love, the vacations you enjoy, the people in your life who move you. And I will talk back and share my life with you.
I hope to run into you in public more often. 
)
)I have wonderful friends.
In fact, looking back through my life, I have always been blessed to have amazing, unique, beautiful, dynamic people walking around in my life; some of them have been dear, personal friends to me, and others have been just people I know, but all of them have taught me so much truth.
Right now, my closest friends are so much more dynamic than me, and their energy just inspires me. They are passionate about life and God and music, they love their families and want to make a difference in the world. They dream big dreams about making this community better, and not in some glamorous, self-serving way, but by loving more people in more ways.
Today, I feel awake to both the possibilities in these kind of big dreams and to the fact that having friends and loved ones like I do is the richest kind of blessing. On paper, my life is pretty boring, but it is thick and rich in practice, and that is because of my family and my neighbors, my daughter and my best friends, all living in this life in their own beautiful ways. And they are all so different, and they all inspire me in unique ways.
I wish there was a sincere way I could tell each of them--friends from right here and right now, and friends from my whole life--how blown away I am by their humor and intelligence and grace. I am tempted to start a list of names and to literally write little thank you notes for time shared and laughter and honesty and fun, but I don't see clearly where to draw the line--When you realize that your whole life is worth living because of a web of people who touched you, who do you leave out? :o)
That just might be the best possible problem a person could have.
That just might be the best possible problem a person could have.
Mia in Motion
I just purchased a new Digital SLR, a Cannon Rebel XSi. I shopped for it for a couple of months, and gathered information so I could compare all sorts of SLRs--it sort of felt like information overload. My tastes run expensive, but I ended up picking this inexpensive camera. I am a beginner, after all.
Anyway, I carry the freaking thing everywhere I go, now, thinking that I don't want to miss a shot since I own a good camera. But I am still re-learning photography, which means several hundred lackluster photos come for every decent one. Here are three of my favorites from this past weekend; we were in Houston to visit sweet Kelly.
This is Mia in Motion. It is blurred because I didn't have the shutter speed set right,
but it looks like joy to me.
I Love the genuine smile on Stacy's face in this shot.
Mia had cotton candy all over herself! I like her fingers a bit out of focus in the foreground.
Mia was excited to finally see Kelly! I especially like Mia's face in this shot.
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