Happy Thanksgiving

The turkey is stuffed and placed in the oven.
Time for breakfast. Stomach, stop rumblin'.
Coffee's the thing, still tastes like crap,
Ah forget it, think I'll take a nap.

Sez me.
Happy Thanksgiving.

Last Saturday

Last Saturday morning I was fixing breakfast for my dad. My wife had gone to Houston for a four day weekend of fun, frivolity, and retail therapy with her sisters. One of the sisters arranged a train trip to Galveston for the four of them and assorted and available spouses. My wife, knowing my affinity for trains, texted me a photo taken out the train window, with the caption “On the train, Choo, Choo!”.

I texted back, “Breakfast with Dad, Chew, Chew!”

Sorry, had to share that pun.

Texas Highway, June, 1979

Stopping on the side of a West Texas highway, my two brothers and I, and my brother's friend, Tiger, paused to admire the lightning storm in the disance.  Late afternoon, 3PM, on our way to Vegas.  I, the poet, got out of the car with my Kodak Instamatic 126, trying to capture the picture, the spider lightning, frozen in my eye. 

Ignoring the cries of my companions, eager to get to Vegas, I, the poet, respond to a different call. I respond to the weather, to the God who placed us in this spot, at this time, to experience his wrath and kindness, his healing gifts.  I respond to the spot, the present, the wrath and gifts. 

My companions see only the road, the long journey, two days ahead.  I, relish the rain.

d.

I Remember Chocolate

I remember chocolate.  I remember the first time I missed it.  I remember family dinners, the enticing desserts if we cleaned our plates, finished our  meals - the chocolate fudge, the Reeses Peanut Butter Cups, the chocolate syrup on ice cream.  I remember the meals.  "Clean your plate." 

I remember cold broccoli, cold cabbage - cold, cold, mushy cabbage.  Horrible, cold cabbage, bland, unflavored, mushy, boiled cabbage. 

I remember my sister.  My sweet, adorable, wouldn't hurt a fly, sister.  I remember her telling me later that she thought the dog would eat it. But I ATE it.  I cleaned my plate.  she didn't.  I got blamed for the cabbage on the floor, under my chair. 

I remember desserts.  Reeses Peanut Butter Cups.  Yum.  Used to be my favorite.  I remember sitting there for an hour.  "Clean your plate."

I remember the dog getting my peanut butter cup.  I remember growing up, being an adult and always having chocolate in the apartment, in the house, as dessert, as a snack.  I remember working in the office, afternoon snacks, chocolate bars - the quick energy.  I remember those days.

I remember the days when  the energy boost did not come.  I remember the numbness, the thirst.  I remember the doctor telling me:

"Diabetes..."

I remember chocolate.

Waiting in Line

Today I took my wife to the movies.  Two people in front of us in line for tickets were a mom and her (?) three daughters.  The daughters were maybe three and four years old and an older one about five or six.  My wife noted that the little girls each had a little bag of Pirates Booty and a canned soda.

One of the younger girls, the 4 year old (?) had just finished her soda and was giddily wandering over to a nearby trash can.  She was going to throw her can away. When she walked away, her little sister (or friend) also walked with her. Then an amazing thing happened.  The older daughter followed the two little girls.

The soda girl threw away her can and returned with her other sister back to mom.  The look on the older sister's face told the tale.  She had an expression that I call "responsifortitude" - that duty and responsibility, that chore.  And the look, the precious look, she had was one of frustration and annoyance that she had to look after the little ones. 

D.

Amazing Les Miserables movie extended trailer

Had the opportunity tonight to watch the extended trailer for the upcoming movie, Les Miserables.  My whole family is looking forward to it.  We are going to make a Christmas movie our new family tradition.  And what better way than to watch Anne Hathaway star in this great musical drama. 

Regular readers of this blog know my infatuation with Anne(http://ponderingdave.blogspot.com/2011/02/2011-oscar-broadcast.html).  I think she is a tremendous actress.  I even had a momentary, not so close encounter with her in a Chicago airport, gosh, it must have been 10 or 11 years ago (http://ponderingdave.blogspot.com/2009/02/anne-hathaway.html). 

I cannot wait to see that movie.  Fascinating story.  Anne, I think you are fantastic. 

Stop by for dinner sometime.  I am a great cook and I need you to corroborate my Chicago story. 

Thanks.
d. 

Neighborhood Crosswalks and cultural rules

Whilst out walking with my wife one fine Sunday morn, we came to an intersection of neighborhood streets. We were on the home stretch and this street intersected with our street at an angle. Just as we approached the intersection an SUV approached from our right. He pulled up to the stop sign. I had stopped and was waiting for him to drive on.

The driver signaled for us to go ahead and cross the street. Since he signaled us, we were obliged to walk in front of the SUV. We did, even though the best angle to cross the street would have been to walk behind the vehicle and to let the driver drive on.  But is that jaywalking?  Even if no one is around?

We are a nation of rules; a people of rules.  We have habits, cultural habits, that are often hard to break even when the simple way is the best.   

Sometimes I just wander around the house and just wonder. I wonder why. Why I am not the person I wanted to be. Why am I not the person I set out to be?  Maybe it is because of so many rules - cultural, societal, work, life.  So many unwritten rules.  I have to work.  Have to pay the bills.  I work because it is not permissable for an able bodied adult male to sit around and type words on a computer. 

I must learn to break the rules. 

"Trout fishing in America", or "catch and release"

Ok, yes, I borrowed a title from Richard Brautigan. And another title from a movie.  Wow. How unoriginal is that?  Oh nevermind.

I was thinking today.  I don't know how I got started on this.  But, trout fishing?  Is their trauma on the fish, as he is taken from the water, hook removed and then returned to the stream?  Is it a spiritual occasion for the poor fish?  Does the fish go through some sort of near death experience?  Does he share that experience at "school" the next day?

 I have heard it said that fishes have a 3-second memory span.  So, I guess not. 

 These are the questions that I think about on occasion.  I lead an interesting life.  

D.

Quote

I read a review about an upcoming book on the friendship between Sarte and Camus.  Apparently they were both 'smitten' by the same young actress.  Each had an affair of sorts with her. I came across a quote about love that I thought apropos for a poet.  And I am sure a lot of people feel this way.  Not this poet.  I love my wife dearly and she is the purpose and pleasure of my life.  I just wanted to share this. 

"...But perhaps Camus had their close encounter in mind when he wrote: 'It is necessary to fall in love – the better to provide an alibi for all the despair we are going to feel anyway.'

The Boxer and the Goalkeeper by Andy Martin is published by Simon & Schuster.

Dinner without phones

My wife and I went out to dinner the other night.  We left our cell phones at home.  Imagine that.  I think we both just wanted a nice quiet evening alone together with no distractions. 

I came home from work that afternoon, went through the mail, paid the bills and waited for my son to come home from his first job.  That kid is amazing.  Most of the summer he has been sitting in front of the xbox, either blowing up aliens, zombies or the enemy of the day, and it has been a chore sometimes to get him to utter more than one syllable about how his day went.  These days, a little more than a week into his first real job, he comes home and has so much to share. 

That afternoon he was talking about how much work they did.  He said he finally feels like one of the guys because they started joking with him, and even playing harmless little practical  jokes.  He had plans for the evening, so he told me all about those.  Then he mentioned that he would be home early because he has to work in the morning.  Wow.  Is this my kid?  He seems so different. 

My wife came home shortly after my son left for his evening.  I told her we were alone.  Hmmm.  What do you want to do?  Let's go out to dinner.  Let's have someone wait on us.  And so we did.  A nice little sushi place around the corner (and down the street, past the medical offices across from the bank).  well, it's in the neighborhood. 

Quiet?  Right.  The place was crowded - happy hour.  And I could hardly hear her talk.  Funny, I could have used my cell phone just to talk to  her.  And we were the only ones.  The only ones with out cell phones.  The place was full.  We had to wait to be seated- longer than five minutes.  People were talking on their phones to people about work.  People were texting.  (I would have loved to take a picture of what I ordered but...I left my cell phone at home.) 

Later, on the drive home, my wife was worried that we missed some important message from one of the kids.  She mentioned that they have never known a world without cell phones.  Indeed, when they were younger they didn't much care.  But as they got older, they had phones. 

Amazing how our lives have become.  I long for the day without phones.  What a quiet world that will be. 

D.

Work - challenges

This week has been, uh, interesting.  Work is always a place of intrigue and mystery.  I get my job done,  mostly accurate and on-time but there is always something that can go wrong.  Always some challenge to overcome.

Those challenges this week left me depressed.  That depression might have roots in my personal life but it manifested itself at work.  I just found it hard to get into the swing of things this week.  Maybe it was my first full week back after vacation.  Maybe it was all the changes from the merger; new organizations, new bosses, new rules and processes.  I don’t know.  Maybe all of those things. 

I have two vocations actually. I am a technical writer by day and a poet and other writer by ni…., by whenever I feel like it.  Which, truthfully, hasn’t been that often.  But I did manage to send some poems out to a magazine.  I was hoping to be published.  Hoping?  Yeah, this is the time for hope, and like that great hope of four years ago, my hope for publication went sour too.  I received a rejection letter, actually an e-mail.  Very curt, short and not so sweet, considering the outcome I had hoped. 

At any rate, this event and the events at work, caused some reflection on my part.  That reflection led to my depression.  I was going through the motions the last few days trying to cheer myself up.  I looked back at all the things I had set out to do and that I had accomplished.  I have gotten every job I wanted.  I wanted to be a writer, I became a writer.  I have a good career. 

I have also wanted to be a poet.  I really don’t understand what I do or how I do it.  I just write, my poetry, I mean.  It just comes from a spiritual place.  I try to work at it but I really don’t know much about the inner workings.  Or the technical terms of poetry.  I just write. 

So, I was talking to my wife the other day about my funk.  I mentioned that I tried to snap out of it by looking at my accomplishments.  I said I hadn’t accomplished anything that I really wanted.  (I wanted to be a famous poet and writer).  Then it occurred to me.  “I wanted to be a writer.”  I have made about $7.00 at poetry.  But as a writer (Ok, a technical writer), I have made a career.  For the last 25 years that is what I have been doing. 

I realize now, when I wished for this life, when I asked God for this, to be called a writer.  I guess I should have been more specific.  I should have asked for the ability to write a novel or stories or plays.  I guess He just found the closest place for me.  Well, then.  Thank you, God.  It seems to have worked out. 

D.

Dinner with My Dad, June 11 edition.

I had dinner with my dad last night. MY mother and he would have been married 57 years yesterday. Have been married 57 years yesterday. I don’t think he has been without her since her death in October of last year. I think she is watching over him every day.

I knew this day might be tough for him, so I stopped by after my doctor’s appointment to ask what he wanted for dinner. He said he didn’t feel like going out. I suggested sandwiches. It was a busy day form me and I didn't feel like cooking.  Truthfully, I had no plan. I told my dad that my son and I would be over with some sandwiches later. He was fixing himself a drink. Kentucky bourbon on the rocks.  I knew it was that kind of day.
 

I went home to get Tim and the sandwiches. We stopped at the local Subway shop.

I had dinner with my dad last night. Somehow I feel like I let him down. He didn’t like the bread I chose for his sandwich. My first career was in the food industry. I had 20+ years in restaurants as a cook/chef. And all I had for him for his anniversary dinner was a store bought sandwich on “sh@#ty” bread (my term, not his). I let him down. He only ate half. Save the rest for tomorrow’s lunch, I guess.

There was nothing much to say at dinner.  He did the math.  57 years.  At first he said 37 years.  That didn't sound right.  He caught himself right away.  57 years.  It would have been. 

Life is fragile.  It seems even more so these days.  He doesn't move very fast.  He misses driving his car. He liked being able to go get a haircut without having to plan so heavily.  I know he misses his freedom.

Vacation in a few weeks.  I think the trip will do him some good.  I hope he enjoys it.  It will do him good to get out. 

D. 

Jada Williams

Came across this news story about a week ago.  I find it fascinating that people's agenda gets in the way of getting the job done.  I find it amazing that idealogues let their wants and needs get in the way of what is right.  Poor girl.  I hope she finds the right school.  Read the article.  Thanks.
http://www.americanthinker.com/2012/05/black_teen_run_off_the_liberal_plantation.html#ixzz1tpp0eHQZ


D.

Dinner at Dad's

Sunday night dinner with my dad.  I think he liked it.  He asked for seconds and asked that we leave some for tomorrow's lunch.  Nora found a great deal on Swai.  (2 lbs for $8.) 

So, I Dore'd it (flour and eggwash) and sautee'd it in a large skillet.  I served it with chopped tomatoes, sliced black olives and capers.  I warmed that mixture with a compound butter.  Salt and pepper as needed.  Wonderful dish. 

Great item.  Check it out.  Enjoy.

D.  

Years

Years, again come knocking


(August 23, 2006)

In my summer days when traffic cops appear,
I, too, need some pointing as winter soon draws near.
Of simple days I dream; of some days’ end I fear,
As the coldest moon does rise, at the closing of my year.

Life, at last, conquers fear on tales of Autumn sheddings,
As Christmastime draws near, unrewarded lives are dreading.
Another task awaits this soul, ill-defined and treading,
But life’s not done, till farms are sold for bedding.

Yielding pleasure chosen or pain deserved, Eternity awaits.
Be wise and choose your path, leave not your end to fates.
But what of toil has bought you, but what if love berates?
The purest soul will rise and regret cannot exterminate.

David R. Normand
Copyright C 2006

A Metaphor of Life.  I guess I have been feeling this way for quite a while. 

Caine's Arcade

Check it out on Youtube.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=faIFNkdq96U

Dinner with My Dad

The wife and I had dinner with my dad this evening.  Since my mother died several months ago my sisters and I take turns during the week going over there and fixing my dad dinner.   It is really a fun thing to do.

Tonight we had peas and salmon.  My wife had asked if we needed knives on the table.  I told her no because the salmon was very tender.  So, we sat down to eat a very nice meal.  After a few bites I realized that we did need knives, to push the peas onto the fork.  This reminded me of a poem my dad always used to tell us and I told him:

"Peas and honey, Peas and honey,
I've eaten them all my life.
Peas and honey, might sound funny,
But it sure keeps them on the knife."

Dad laughed at that.  He remembered.

My wife had to get up and get Dad some water for his pills.  Two cubes of ice from the automatic dispenser in the fridge door.  The "cubes" actually comes out as half moons.  (Why the manufacturer calls them "cubes", I have no clue).

After she sat down, the refridgerator replenished the recently removed ice with an audible "burp" as the ice dropped into the bin. 

"I keep waiting for the refridgerator to say 'excuse me' when he does that," my dad said. 

We all laughed.  I thought for a second, and leaned over to my dad, and told him that, if the refridgerator does ever answer him, he probably shouldn't tell anyone. 

D.

Ramblings - who has the time?

Just some idle ramblings from the other day.  Wondering what was going on.  Who had plans. 

When is Easter? April 9? I used to get Good Friday off…Union thing. Not anymore. Different company. So I look more for holidays rather than holy days. Funny. The reason is the same; renew the spirit; celebrate the Spirit. Yet, for the most part, I am more secular than religious.

Been thinking a lot lately about that. I feel God all around me, yet I wonder. I talk to God all the time, but have trouble hearing or interpreting his response. I am going crazy. I have a lot to say, but I can’t write it down. I need to.

had an interesting day the other day. My daughter put on Facebook that she had a phone interview for her first real adult job. She was really excited as it is almost exactly what she wants. She would be working what could be her dream job. She had a phone interview that went so well that she lined up an in person interview for today.  That went so well they called her for a follow up this Wednesday.  This job is only 1.5 miles from our house. She could live rent free while she pays off her loans.  I wish her well.

Please say a prayer for her.

I was so excited by this news that when I got off the phone I wanted to call someone. The first person I thought of was my mom. I wanted to call her and tell her the news.  It broke my heart when I couldn’t. A bittersweet moment. 

Ahhh.  Life goes on. 

D. 

Offramps, strip malls, diners and coffeeshops

Sitting at a local Starbucks watching families and friends enjoying the great Sunday morning, celebrating the Lord's day in the company of love. 

In how many communities, villages, and towns is this taking place across America? 

These parties are a part of the American scene.  I do so enjoy them. 

D.