Today

Today was such an awesome day. I am going to do it all over again tomorrow. Such beautiful thoughts, so many emotions, so much joy. Things are going well.

I hope your experiences are as joyful and fulfilling as mine have been. It is wonderful to be involved.

D.

You Go Luc.

I recieved an e-mail from my sister tonight. My twelve year old nephew is achieving some national recognition. He is a very accomplished viola player and now, my sister tells us that:

Lucas was nominated last Spring to attend the Junior National Young Leaders Conference this Fall in Washington, D.C. He will be representing his school and attending the conference from Saturday, September 26 –Thursday, October 1. Lucas is very excited about this trip and feels honored to be a part of it.

A little background on the Conference: “the purpose of the Junior National Young Leaders Conference is to honor and inspire the most exceptional middle school students in the nation, distinguished by their academic excellence, leadership potential, commitment to excellence, desire to succeed, and maturity, and to reinforce the virtues of leadership, citizenship, and democracy while using Washington, D. C. as their classroom. They will have the opportunity to meet and learn from some of today’s leaders and work with other students from across the nation”.

Below is an excerpt from the press release.

LOCAL STUDENTS TO WALK IN FOOTSTEPS OF U.S. LEADERS
Junior National Young Leaders Conference Offers Historic Perspectives

WASHINGTON, D.C. – This fall, over 250 outstanding middle school students from across the United States will take part in an extraordinary leadership conference in Washington, D.C. Themed Voices of Leadership: Reflecting on the Past to create the Future, the Junior National Young Leaders Conference (JrNYLC) introduces young people to the rich tradition of leadership while enhancing their leadership skills and abilities. They will not only understand the key concepts of leadership, but to apply them in their everyday lives…….

PonderingDave's comments. I am just so very proud of my nephew. He is a very talented individual. I look forward to hearing about this conference.

Apologize? What for?

Last week President Obama gave a speech.

Once again he lied to the American people. He said that "his" health care bill would not provide benefits to illegal aliens. South Carolina congressman Wilson yelled out “you lie”. This outburst shocked all in attendance.

Wilson apologized to the president for the outburst the next day. The president accepted the apology.

While Congressman Wilson was apologizing a house committee was adding verbiage to the health care bill that would close the loophole that would give health care coverage to illegal aliens.

Having closed the loop hole, the next day congress decides to make congressman Wilson apologize (for calling the president a liar) on the house floor.

I ask that congressman Wilson not do that. What he said was correct. There was no provision in the bill to preclude government benefits to illegal aliens until the House committee put it in two days after Mr. Obama lied about it. (Has he read the bill?) Congressman Wilson has done what he needed to do. He apologized for the outburst, not the content.

The House of Representatives should apologize to the American people.

This Just In...

Scientist have found that other planets in our solar system are experiencing warming also. Hmmm... could it possibly be due to solar activity?



http://www.livescience.com/environment/070312_solarsys_warming.html

Trees

We have been walking for many months now. Always the same distances. Nothing too grueling. We have fun. My wife and I have seen a lot of interesting things. We have gotten to know our neighborhood.

One thing I noticed is how our neighborhood changes over the course of southern California's two seasons. The most striking thing I saw were the trees at the local grocery store. When they lose their leaves in the winter they take on a very eerie character. The branches are all knobby and in the early darkness of autumn they look beautiful against the twilight sky.

I had given my cell phone to my son. I could not take a picture. My wife said I should take a camera. I don't have a camera. Except on the phone. But I don't have one of those either.

I found many trees in the neighborhood. I want to capture them. I am having trouble remembering the location of all the pretty trees. I want to go back and photograph them. But then it occurred to me about a week ago that I am a poet and I could just write the description of the trees. So, I started writing little poems about trees.

Then, the other day, I got an e-mail from the Santa Barbara Writers Conference. The 2010 poetry weekend is scheduled for next March in Santa Barbara. The featured poet is Dorianne Laux. I went online to check out her poetry. The first poem of hers I found was "the life of trees".

One of the first contests I ever entered my poetry in was the Rocky Mountain Poetry Society's Joyce Kilmer Memorial Poetry contest in 1979. Joyce Kilmer is known for his famous poem, "Trees". I was selected as an Honorable Mention in that contest. So these little coincidences about trees told me that I should write more about trees. So, following are some of my recent poems about trees.

Home
"Our neighbor’s trees. Lush with thick green leaves. Thick enough to hide the 20 or so birds that live there. There are 20 but they sing and sound like hundreds. We take our afternoon walks and listen to voices. We are not smart enough to translate to English. We are not curious enough to wonder. We just like the sound, on our walks. Not so much on an early Sunday morning when all we want to do is sleep. The sun comes through the window and my wife asks me if we can afford darker curtains, or blinds. Or maybe plywood… "

Jacarinda's
"We walked in the fall of the year. The trees were not in bloom, thankfully. Purple would upset the monochrome. And as we passed under the fanning branches, twenty shades of green, darkness and light, shaded by the upper branches. A more flattering photograph could not have been taken. Green leaves and branches against a cloudless, blue sky. Pictures, photographs, moments captured in time. A tree, a breeze, a memory."

Life is full of coincidences. And someone once said that there are signs everywhere. I am just trying to find my way...find out what it is I am supposed to be doing. Maybe I will just write more poems about trees.

David
　
　

Wanderlust, 2009

Notes from our vacation (July 18 to July 26, 2009). At times it seemed like the vacation from hell.

July 22th: I sit in God's country. The land that I love. Waiting in a hotel room for friends coming to visit us. We are in Lake Tahoe, California side, south shore. God's country. Yes, but I feel more inclined to use the term "vacation from hell". I have been sick the last few days, coughing, weak and tired. Started on Saturday, the first day of vacation. I slept in the car the entire first day. An eight hour drive.

July 18th: We stopped at the Manzanar Historic Site and I was too sick to really process the events that took place there. I wanted to see it and show the kids but I could not fully take in the place. I want to say enjoy but that word doesn't some how belong in this discussion.

Manzanar Historic Site is a place dating back to the World War II era. This was one of the nine (?) Internment Camps around the country where Americans of Japanese descent were sent during the war. I am not going to debate the issue here. The reality of it was that it happened. I wanted to show my kids that fact. I think they got something out of it. I think they understood. I don't want them to agree or disagree, I just want them to know. I know K___, my 19 yo daughter, spent a lot of time reading the placques and looking at the collection of pictures. I had driven by the historical marker for the past 30 years and I think I only stopped once or twice. I am glad I made the effort this time to tour the newly opened information center. It was very enlightening. I wish I had felt better to fully immerse myself in the history. I think I shall mark this place for another stop, another time.

July 19th: We arrived in Lake Tahoe on Sunday afternoon. I was starting to feel better. Once a year we try to live like millionaires. We save all year long to be able to afford a vacation to the place or places where we fell in love. Over the years we have taken our children to 11 different states and countless historic sites, monuments, parks, and just plain fun sites. I thought that this is what I was supposed to do as a dad.

I remember my dad packing all of us, mom, dad, + seven kids in the back of a station wagon on our yearly vacation. I can name all of the places we went, all of the places we saw. And I try to show my kids the same thing. Problem is, a child's memory is not always as accurate as fact. My dad recently told me that we, as a family, rarely took a yearly vacation. But I remember...

I look back and think. But Dad...we went to... And then it occurred to me. Dad was right. We took a trip to Washington, D. C. in June, 1972. I remember waking up in a campground in Northern Virginia. June 17th, 1972. I was listening to the news on my transistor radio, one of the few luxuries that I was allowed to bring. The report was that burglars had been discovered at the Democratic National Committee headquarters at the Watergate Hotel building. I remember that trip. The monuments, the Smithsonian, the Capitol. I think that trip we also made it to Gettysburg and Hershey, Pa.

Another trip we took was to the Black Hills of South Dakota. Mt. Rushmore. This was actually a family reunion trip that we took to Minnesota. So, out of the ten years that I am remembering we took two trips. And then there were two vacations that my parents and younger siblings took where us older teenagers stayed home.

Whether we took yearly vacations or not, the trips that we did take were so influential on my development that they gave me this wanderlust that I experience today. I cannot be satisfied staying in one place. I need to move. I need to experience new places and things. I have seen this beautiful country and I know there is still much more to see. I want to give that gift to my children.

To wrap this all up, I was extremely disappointed in this years vacation. I contracted a small cough the day before we left and that developed into Pneumonia on the first day, I am sure. The next four to five days I was feeling crummy. I didn't feel like doing much of anything. In Tahoe the air is thin. I think this exasperated my lungs and caused the pneumonia. I had wanted to go hiking with my son. That plan was scrapped. I had trouble breathing in the thin air. I had wanted to visit with some old friends. That was scrapped because I wasn't feeling well and I didn't want to expose them, given their own health issues. It was a disappointing vacation.

My wife, ever the optimist, said that it was enough to just be in Tahoe. I can agree with that. We sat by the lake one day, having lunch and visiting with Sacramento friends. We enjoyed the lake, the views, the breezes. It is where we fell in love. It is what I consider the beginning of my life. I shall always enjoy going there, in spite of everything else.

D.

Don Coryell

Today, I had a brush with greatness. I won't say where but I ran into Don Coryell, the football great and architect of "air coryell". He was looking pretty good for 80. Just the glance of him sitting there brought back all the memories of watching the San Diego Chargers in the 1980s. What a team they were. Lots of excitement. Lots of heartbreak. Lots of fun.

It was a pleasure to see him. I wish I had known more about him. Reading his bio on Wikipedia I ask myself "how is this guy not in the pro football Hall Of Fame?" I read the arguments, but still... his contributions alone should warrant admission.

I just found out that he was the coach at Whittier College in Whittier, CA. My daughter goes to Whittier. I would have liked to talk to him but I just smiled and nodded. It was not the venue to converse.

Don Coryell looked like a real class individual. And those rings. He had several rings. I remember the Chargers winning several division titles, so they must have been division rings. He sure won enough of those. It was good to see him. He means a lot to a lot of San Diego Football fans. A very pleasant surprise, for me anyway.


Update Dec. 1, 2009 (thanks to Dan Mc.):
Don Coryell is 80 years young. I don't remember where I got my original information. I have corrected my post.

Mortality

It has been a crazy couple of weeks for a 51 year old American. The idols of my formative years are dropping like flies. Even people my own age are dying. It really makes you take stock.

I grew up in the 60's and 70's. I watched a kid my age become a pop star (Michael Jackson). I watched a beautiful girl from south Texas (only 11 years older than me) become a sex symbol and actress (Farrah Fawcett). These people were my age and probably kept me thinking about the things I do with my life. They accomplished a lot in their lives and I was striving to hit the goals that I had set for myself.

I also grew up watching Johnny Carson and because of that I was exposed to Ed McMahon and Fred Travalena. I also saw Fred Travalena when I lived in Lake Tahoe in the late 70's, early 80's. And I guess, from watching late night television I was also exposed to Gale Storm and, more recently, Billy Mays.

So, the past couple of weeks have affected me in that I must now look at my own mortality. I have always known that life is temporary. I believe we all do. It is the perception of younger people that the expanse of years are all ahead of us. But as we age we learn the truth. Time is fleeting. We learn to make the best of our time. We chose our activities and do not waste our chances.

When I was a teenager my girlfriend was all gaga over the teen idols. She followed Michael Jackson and all of the other heartthrobs. I, and my friends, heard all about these guys. Consequentially, we did not follow them. We hated references to them. We did not like them. We were jealous of them. Fine. My music choices and likes were far different than hers. I had knowledge of MJ and I had followed his career. How could you not? He was in all the papers.

My brother had a Farrah Fawcett poster on the wall of his bedroom. I saw the first episode of "Charlie's Angels". I was not impressed with the story. But I enjoyed looking at the angels. Hey, I was 15/16 years old, who wouldn't?

And now, 35 years later, we are met with the news that three pop culture icons from our youth have passed away. This certainly gives you pause for thought. One of these icons was the same age as me. (Well, two - Billy Mays and Michael Jackson you could consider roughly the same age.) One can't help but be affected by that.

Take care of yourselves. Be healthy, be happy, be good, be safe.

D.

Items From My Desk...

This from several years ago:

While driving the other day, my wife and I spotted a sign for an upcoming meeting.

"A thimble club?" my wife asked.

And I deadpanned, "Sew."

"Long As I Can See The Light" by John Fogerty

That song is still one of my favorites. I think it is beautifully written and tells a great story about the endurance of love; the flame burning bright until the lovers return. This particular John Fogerty song came on my iPod today at work. I was trying to work and had to drown out some background noise (blathering of co-workers). I find that this song relaxes me. I am overcome at times by the inherent spirituality in the song. I find it supremely satisfying.

Now most of my readers know me as a poet and the above John Fogerty song inspired me. I was lulled into some thoughtfulness for a moment. John Fogerty was immediately followed by Greg Brown's "The Poet Game". This is a haunting song about the regret over lost loves, lost friends. I have lived 51 years on this earth and I suffer the regret of lost lovers and friends. It is a fact of life that we cannot change. Indeed, it is probably that regret that has made me the poet that I am. And, yes, I play "The Poet Game". I believe all, no most, poets do.

The game is that love affair with regret and loss. They can, regret and loss, become our muses. We tend to cherish those memories that got away. We hang on to them. We can't forget. We know what they could have been but we can't let them go. They become the regrets of our lives. They become our sadness. The friendships we lose. The loves lost. The regrets...

These songs then become my soundtrack for my thoughts. And all of this reminded me of a quote I read in a magazine while flying to a business trip ten years ago. I remember the article. It mentioned a book -- "Songlines", by Bruce Chatwin (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bruce_Chatwin &

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Songlines). Chatwin's premise was that language began with song. Interesting theory. I can certainly see song as an expression of love. The theory kind of makes sense. This certainly plays into my instincts as a poet. My poems are songlike. My poems are sometimes the narrative of my emotional life. My "Songlines" if you will. When I am happy I sing. When I am sad, I write poetry.

My wife says my poetry is sad. Perhaps. But I will leave you with this poem from A.E. Housman:

They say my verse is sad: no wonder.
Its narrow measure spans
Rue for eternity, and sorrow
Not mine, but man's.

This is for all ill-treated fellows
Unborn and unbegot,
For them to read when they're in trouble
And I am not.

Speaking of Hurricanes...

Yes, another hurricane story. Growing up in New Orleans, hurricane country. Yep, I got hurricane stories.

Camille, 1969. 190 mph winds, 25 foot storm surge and a pressure of 26.84 inches. Incredible. The bad thing is that 225 people lost their lives and 50 to 75 were never found.

I remember Camille. It was my mom's birthday, August 17th. We have pictures of our dinner party in the family room. The patio window is boarded up. We were having cake. It was fun. We had the map on the wall where we tracked the hurricane's progress. That was the smart thing to do. Track the hurricane. We were new in New Orleans, having arrived in February from Buffalo, NY. We had no place to evacuate to.

We spent the night in the living room, sleeping on the floor in our sleeping bags. Shortly after dark, the wind started blowing. Later in the evening my older brother and sister went with my dad upstairs. My dad wanted to check on the windows. Screens and tiles were blowing around on the street outside. My dad wanted to know which of our screens were gone. My brother and sister came downstairs and said the house was moving with the wind. They said I should go and check it out. I didn't want to.

I was a quiet, shy, 11 year old kid. Feeling my house move in a storm was not a feeling I really wanted to experience with all the rain and wind blowing around outside. It was a fear that I really didn't want to know. I had too much fear going on already that night. Didn't need anymore. But we all went to sleep later and woke up safe and sound.

My friend and I hopped on our bikes the next morning to inspect the damage to the neighborhood. All we saw were blown down fences, shingles in the street, and broken trees. We got off lucky. We survived. 50 miles to the east 255 people lost their lives. We had friends who lived in the area of most destruction. They had eight feet of water in their house. We helped them clean up after the hurricane.

I remember Camille. More info here - http://www.geocities.com/hurricanene/hurricanecamille.htm.

D.

Carmen

I remembered this story today. I think it was Carmen. Hurricane Carmen, 1977 . I was an 18 year old kid sent to fill up the family cars prior to the big wind. Carmen was headed straight to New Orleans, much like Katrina did a few years ago. The city was bracing itself for a big storm. My chore was to make sure all the cars were gassed up. I had one left.

The convenience store/gas station was packed.

I paid for the gas and went to the gas pumps to fill up the car with gas in the blowing rain. I put the nozzle in the tank of the car. Pulled the handle. Nothing.

Rain coming down. Wind blowing. I had a rain coat on, of course. But the wind blew the rain in. I had no hat.

I tried the handle again. Nothing.

I was cold, wet and angry. I went into the store, stood at the entrance and yelled at the top of my lungs to the clerk, who was extremely busy. "TURN THE GAS PUMP ON." As soon as he looked at me, sopping wet, he realized he forgot. I went to pump my gas. I am sure that everyone in the store had a good laugh at the sad sack, shy kid standing there waiting for his gas.
D.

Air and Water (based on a true story)

The Diver

Water and air.
Water of life.
He entered the water with air on his back
To explore the unexplored. Cheating death.
By breathing.
He loved the quiet, the solitude, the peace.

He found a kelp forest, dancing with the waves.
The choreography enthralled him and he swam in
To join the dance.
The joy of unity overwhelmed him.
The kelp reached out
For their new member.
He became one with the sea…entangled.

The Pilot

Air and water.
Air, the unseen giver of life. Essential from a baby’s first pat.
He entered the air surrounded by machine.
His soaring gave him power and strength over gravity.
He flew for the solitude, the peace.

He saw the beauty, every time he flew.
He loved taking off over the ocean. From this height he could
See the fish and the kelp and the color of the water.
This night he flew he glanced down at the water below.

What was the glowing light?
He looked…dot…dot…dot…dash…dash…dash
Dot…dot…dot….
This can’t be good… he called it in.
And flew circles until the harbor patrol arrived.

Two men seeking solitude in their own way.
That day air and water came together.
Joined forever in a life.

The diver who escaped for solitude,
Now forever joined.
With the Pilot
Who saved his life.


D.
C. 2007, David R. Normand.

Signs

The last few days I have spent pondering, really pondering, my future as a blogger, as a writer. I have been looking at all things. I have found several signs. My blog of June 9, 2009 set the tone
(http://ponderingdave.blogspot.com/2009/06/pressure.html). What does my future hold? I am still pondering. And today, during my lunch break reading, I come across a little advice from one of my favorite columnists (Jay Nordlinger of National Review).

People have always asked him, "What can I do to break into journalism?" Jay's advice can be found here ( http://article.nationalreview.com/?q=NjczMjc3OTM2MzI1YWQ5MzMxMjMzYTViM2ZiOWQwMzg=).

Jay told his readers, "... And let me suggest that you find topics off the beaten path: topics that have not been trodden by hundreds of others. Maybe something that only you can write about. Maybe something that you have noticed, uniquely, or quasi-uniquely...Do you have some quirky area of expertise?....Cast your net as wide as possible: Seek out every publication, every editor, every contact. Work for free or for pay, it matters not, at first. Do some blogging on your own, or some other self-publishing."

Wow. Thanks Jay. I have been following your advice even before you gave it. I am on my way.

D.

PS: Just my luck. I decide to become a journalist and columnist just when almost all of the newspapers in the country are starting to, or thinking about, cutting back or go under. Just when I decide to do something, that something goes away. Maybe I shouldn't invest in the stock market.

Pressure

The intention of this blog has been, for me, to write some interesting insights (ponderings) into everyday life. I hope that I have come close to offering some insight. I know that, at times, I just write about nothing, just to give you something to read. I have felt bad about that. But I do not want my readers to think that I have forgotten this blog. The idea behind this blog has been an exercise to make me a better writer and also to train myself to write more often.

This past week I have felt bad about my lack of effort. And today I was reading my favorite magazine and website at lunch time. I came across a bit of second hand advice from one of my intellectual heroes. It spoke right to my mood this past week.

My hero was William F. Buckley. When I was in college (the first time), I was taking history and English courses. I wanted to become an intellectual. I wanted to understand our society. I subscribed to several magazines from across the political spectrum, left to right. I did this for several years and at the end of my college career the only magazine that stuck was Buckley's National Review. I am still a subscriber even today. Buckley was one of the smartest men in America. He stood for the individual, freedom, self-determination, and personal liberty and responsibility.

WFB died last year. And today, his friend, Rick Brookhiser, was interviewed about his new book
http://article.nationalreview.com/?q=YmVhYzk5NGQ4ZjgwYmE1YWVkZWNhZGFhNjE5ZjBlMzE=#more) on Buckley. One of the editors at National Review interviewed Mr. Brookhiser and asked him what Buckley taught him about writing.

"Swing for the fences. Why not? We don’t remember the cautious because we never read them in the first place."

So here I am. Laying out my dreams, desires and aspirations. For that quote to come to me in a week where I am having doubts about what I am doing, it just amazes me. I truly believe that there is a force out there; I believe that someone is looking out for me. And I shall strive to "swing for the fences" in this effort. Please don't forget about me and I will try not to forget about you. I will try to post often enough to keep you interested.

D.