On Work

I picked up Philip Levine's book of poems "What Work Is" this evening. I was intending to read a bit before I went to bed. I opened the book. Title page where he signed it right under his name. I met him at the Santa Barbara Poet's Workshop, in 2008(?). I started to read his words, just talking about work. I have to work tomorrow. And I am getting tired.

I set the book aside. I do that a lot. I have other things to do. Not enough time. I have to work tomorrow. It is what I do. Since I was 12 and mowing lawns for three bucks a lawn. Mowing lawns in the New Orleans August humidity, sweating till soaked. Bought my first lawn mower 'cause my dad got tired of me borrowing his. I think I gave it to my brother when I turned 14. By that age I was working as a soda jerk and ice cream scooper. From fire to ice. (Isn't that a poem by Frost, or Sandburg... Fire and Ice...gotta be Frost.) Nevermind, I digress. Work. Yes.

Been doing it since I was twelve. Of course not all the time, but still, had somewhere to go, something to do. Since I was twelve. Not all the time. I took four years off for college. My dad said that was a full-time job, going to school. Somewhere to go, something to do. Thirty nine years now. Wow.

I had a part-time job through high school. A buck an hour. Spending money. Got me out of the heat. When I graduated high school I needed money for college. I started working in restaurants. A buck eighty-five to start. Pretty cool. Big time. Then they raised the minimum wage to two and a quarter. Wow.

I fell in love with the restaurants. I was a quiet kid in school, not very good at studying. But the restaurants I really felt like I belonged. Everyone was so friendly and they were great characters. I loved it. I spent the next fourteen years of my life working in Restaurants. I counted them once. Over twenty. I shall count them again. No, it just seemed like there were a lot. Only thirteen. Hard to believe. I thought there were more. Two major hotels accounted for most of the restaurants. I enjoyed it. I hated it. The work was fulfilling and educational, but also stressful and not very lucrative financially. I met a lot of people and more than a few good friends. Restaurants taught me to love food. Restaurants made me fat.

But work. I digress. It is what we do. Such an unnatural activity. It zaps your humanity, your spirit, your creativity. Some people say that work makes us creative. It gives us energy, character and strength. Perhaps, but for a creative mind, it stifles. But then again, if not for work, where would we go each day? What would we do? True. So, on we go. Back to work. I must sleep, because tomorrow...I work.

D.

A Poet's Observation

A white haired, seasoned citizen rests on her walker outside the neighborhood Denny’s restaurant, nestled in the corner of our local strip mall. She says goodbye to her friends after brunch and slowly begins her walk across the parking lot, picking up her walker for each step moving only inches at a time, to finally reach her oversized, aged car. She takes her time. Nothing waits for her at home.

D. Normand, C. 2010

Captain Phil Harris

My wife and I are deeply saddened this week by the passing Captain Phil Harris of the Cornelia Marie fishing vessel of Discovery Channel's "the Deadliest Catch". We enjoy watching the show very much and Capt. Phil was a major part of that enjoyment. He will be greatly missed.

We want to extend our condolences and prayers to Capt. Phil and his family.
http://www.corneliamarie.com/

D.

Terrorists Trials

I was listening to the news today about the upcoming (or planned) trials for the terrorists being held on Guantanamo Bay, Cuba. A lot of people are now saying that they don't want the trials held in New York City. They are talking about moving them to some small town in New York State. But that still leaves the danger of another terrorist attack.

Also, President Obama has been saying that he wants to close the prison on Guantanamo Bay. Well, I have a solution that will stimulate the economy and help to stabilize the United States of America.

Years ago the Navy stopped bombing the island of Vieques, in the US territory of Puerto Rico. The island is now mostly a wildlife refuge. Why can't the Navy take that island, build a prison there (stimulate the local construction economy) and hold the trials there, on Puerto Rico. You would not have to transport the prisoners very far and the cost of the trials would be lowered. Think of how many lawyers would jump at the chance to go to the Carribean to work for a few months. This would also keep the dangerous prisoners off of the American mainland.

Also, that would leave Guantanamo Bay empty. The Navy could then use those facilities for target practice which could also serve to show the Cubans that we are really just next door.

Age (a re-post from June 10, 2009: for maintenance reasons)

As we get along in years, as we pass the time, turn the corner, cross the bridge, climb the hill to middle age, we notice things that we may not have noticed in the past. We hear things that affect us differently than other things might have. We can become more sensitive to the world around us. We understand more. We appreciate things more. And we also lament the passing of time. We marvel that there are more years behind us than ahead of us. We have reached that age.

Tonight my wife and I were sitting down to watch our beloved baseball team play the Los Angeles Dodgers. You may know that the Dodgers moved west to California in the year of my birth, 1958. They just packed up and moved. The city of Los Angeles promised them a stadium. I remember someone asking one of the owners if he ever regretted the move. He said, "let's see, we own the stadium, we own the land, we own the concessions, we own the parking. No, I don't regret it." With a deal like that, what's not to love.

The Dodgers built the stadium shortly after moving out to California and it opened in 1962. 1962 was a great year for me and I didn't even know it. My wife was born that year. But enough history.

We were watching our Padres and the announcers made some comments about the Dodger Stadium being built in 1962. And now because of all the new ballparks built in the recent years, Dodger Stadium is now the third oldest major league ballpark in the country. My wife lamented that she didn't want to hear about anything being built in 1962 as being the third oldest anything. What could I say? I just had to let it go.

D.
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Movie Night on New Year's Day

It has long been a tradition in our family that New Years Day night, after getting up early, watching the Rose Parade and taking down the Christmas decorations, that my wife and I repair to our easy chairs and become unfortunate couch potatoes. Tonight was a night for tradition. She had gone out to rent the latest DVD version of some action movie franchise and we sat down to a dinner of black eye peas and beer-boiled bratwursts. Our children had decided to join us in our family movie night. The action movie was great.

But my college student daughter had accompanied my wife to the video store. They came back with the rental, and a stack of previously viewed discounted DVD's. One of those little gems we were destined to watch after finishing the action movie. I was looking for something a little lighthearted.

My daughter, a child psychology student, had a movie on her Christmas list. Santa must have skipped that, or not had enough room in his bag. So, at the video store this evening she found the neglected movie. I think we purchased it for her because it ended up in our stack.

And that is how we happened across a wonderfully fascinating little movie called "Phoebe in Wonderland", starring Felicity Huffman, Patricia Clarkson, Elle Fanning, Bill Pullman and Campbell Scott. This awesome movie has the innocent title disguising a beautifully intelligent, deep movie and has some incredible acting. I am thankful to have found this gem. I highly recommend this movie to anyone who has kids.

I found myself with a lot of different emotions while (and after) watching this. From a parent's standpoint I could certainly understand the feelings. The parents (Huffman and Pullman) scenes were great scenes to watch. Elle Fanning was amazing. The depth of character portrayed was fascinating to watch. Clarkson was great.

I came away with many different thoughts. Can a child of 9 or 10 have that kind of lucidity? Certainly that kind of intelligence and self-awareness could be recognized. Also, can we find teachers that use the Socratic method and actually teach our children to think?

As a parent, that is all I ask. I try to teach my children responsibility, honor, and a sense of community. I want them to know that they belong and are a part of the greater good. I am learning that the education of a soul goes very deep.

Irish Cooking (and Drinking).

I apologize for not posting anything in the past three weeks. I have a lot going on and I have been busy and away from any ponderous thoughts or musings. But the other night I had an experience that I thought I would share. Its roots were from the Thanksgiving weekend of my previous post. That weekend I made the plans to attend the function that I finally arrived on my calendar.

On the Sunday after Thanksgiving I decided to take the family out to the mall for lunch. My daughter was in town for the holiday and it is always nice to share a meal where we can just sit and talk and not worry about the preparation and dishes. We had no special design or plan on where to eat so we just kind of winged it. We had just happened to park near an Irish restaurant. We had eaten at the restaurant before there before. We liked it.

I was kind of reluctant to eat there this day because it was Sunday and I would miss part of the football game. Oh well, majority rules. We stepped inside. The hostess sat us and gave us a printed announcement that the chef of the restaurant is now offering cooking classes once a month. Those of you who follow this blog regularly know that I used to be a chef. I had some experience with different cuisines. But I had never really studied or even knew much about Irish cuisine. This chef was offering instruction on how to cook Irish food. I signed up.

The menu for the class would start with a green salad with apples and candied walnuts topped with Irish cheddar cheese and a malted vinaigrette. For the main course he was serving (and teaching) the Irish favorite, a Boxty, the Irish potato pancake, with chicken and a white wine buerre blanc (white butter sauce). The entire evening would be topped off with a Guinness ice cream. I jumped at the chance to go and learn something about a cuisine about which I am unfamiliar.

I arrived at the appointed time and place and was surprised to see the room set with about 25 settings. Each setting was set with a placemat with four little plastic cups on it. Each cup had about an ounce, ounce and a half of Jameson's Irish Whiskey. The Jameson folks had arranged a whiskey tasting for the group. Today was our lucky day.

Given the go ahead we first tasted the standard Jameson product. Tasted great, taunted and warmed the throat on the way down. Next up was the twelve year old whiskey. Man, that was smooth. Nice aroma, and very smooth on the throat. I could have stopped right there. But there were two more. We also tried the Jameson Gold and the eighteen year old. These were both very smooth tasting. I like them both. The gold is my favorite. I am putting it on my Christmas list.

After four to five ounces of wonderful Irish whiskey I was getting kind of buzzed. I was loaded. By this time the chef started cooking and I was involved. I was drinking a lot of water and hoping I sobered up by the time the class was finished. The instruction turned out great and the food was fantastic. I really enjoyed my time. It was quite the experience. I am going to go in after the holidays and sign up for the next session. I am hoping the Jameson lady comes back.

D.

Happy Thanksgiving Day

This is my favorite of all the national and local holidays that we celebrate in this country. It is still a pure holiday devoted to thanking God for the wonderful benefits we enjoy in our lives. It is all about being grateful for our bounty and circumstance.

I enjoy the fact that we can get together with all of our family and friends and just enjoy their company. This is, of course, if we all take turns and do our separate parts in cooking the Thanksgiving dinner. I took over the turkey carving duties about 5 years ago. My dad, 79, was getting too old to stand there in the kitchen and do the carving. Not to mention getting the bird from the oven to the counter. There are just too many of us to carve at the table. We always do the buffet style thing. It works well for our family and extended family, sometimes up to 20 people.

The last few years we have been trying to get my mom, 75 to stay out of the kitchen. She has spent her life serving her family and now she just needs to relax and enjoy the grandchildren. Easier said than done.

My mom's kitchen is a big room, large enough for my sisters, my wife and I (and anyone else who wants to help) to move around and get things set up for the buffet. I like for the turkey to hit the buffet hot. We make the stuffing, the gravy and all the side dishes while I carved the turkey and transfer it to platters on the counter. It works out fine. Almost.

My mom likes her house comfortable. But she would always come into the kitchen and complain that it was too hot in her kitchen. She would turn on the air conditioner or open the window. So it works well with me that I am carving the turkey under an open window. I would feel rushed to get the turkey onto the platters while it is hot. Well, it added to my stress. So this year I came up with another option.

When I was working as a cook at a world class resort and casino in Lake Tahoe I remembered one night we deboned a duck for one of our dinner specials. So this year I was looking for a way to quickly carve the turkey. I remembered the deboning of the duck. I practiced two weeks ago with a small chicken. Boy that was easy. I thought, no problem, this will work out well.

So, last night we went over to my parents house and I deboned a 20 pound turkey. My wife brought dinner and we made an evening of it. After dinner I set about to debone the turkey. I laid out a towel, the cutting board, sharpened my knives, and readied my pans. I deboned the bird at the edge of the table as I had an audience sitting around the table. It proved to be more difficult than the little chicken.

I won't go into details about how to debone a turkey (I did a google search for it). But I was glad I had a sharp knife and the patience. It took me about 45 minutes to complete the job. But I think it went very well. I shall have to update this post later to let you all know how the meal turned out.

UPDATE, Friday, November 27:
The meal turned out ok. I had my dad stuff the bird and put it in the oven sometime in mid morning. We like to eat about 2PM so I figured about 3 hours for cooking.

I probably should have tied the bird together because as it cooked the juices mingled with the stuffing, the stuffing turned to mush and fell out of through the turkey holder rack in the bottom of the pan. I bought the rack last year because it was extremely difficult to lift the bird from the pan and this one had good handles. So the turkey was sitting in about an inch or two of soggy dressing. And since it drained from the cavity the breast collapsed and it didn't look pretty. Oh well, live and learn. The next time will be different. We will try it again in a few years.

D.

Weekend Stuff

It's another Saturday night (what a great song that was). My wife and I are watching all the shows we taped during the week and didn't get around to watching. I spent the day trying to set my office up and I even re-upholstered an old office chair. Well, I stripped off the old material and I was going to re-upholster it with some old material I had laying around the house (an old pair of jeans or an old shirt). My wife said she would stop and get some new material from the fabric store. I was hoping to get it all done rather cheaply. And then, I ran out of staples. I am not much of a handyman so maybe I was looking for an excuse not to finish it. But I have to get some tomorrow.

But now we are watching all the shows we taped this week. We are homebodies. We don't drink or party much. So we stay home and relish each others company. I have a great family. I have a great wife. We get along great and we enjoy each others company. We took a walk together tonight and we shall spend tomorrow together shopping and watching football. What a life.

So that is our weekend. But we have fun.

D.

Come to Me

If ever lives were destined
Ours were of the fate.
Hoping to be entwined
We wound up separate.

Time was all you asked for
From one such as me,
But my impatience was at war
With my loyalty.

Compassion from the heart
Forgiveness from the soul,
Despair is just a state of mind
With no place to go.

Come to me, my lover lost
And soothe the heart that yearns
Before I die old and gray
The oldest man that learns.

By David R. Normand, Copyright 1979, 2009

NOTE: I wrote this when I was seventeen. Long time ago. People have asked me to post more poems, so, since I don't write much anymore, I had to dig this one out of the old paper files of my old, unpublished manuscript. Yellowed paper, dusty, and long forgotten emotions. I dig up old wounds and find that the healing is accomplished.

D.

When I Go.

This is my all-time favorite song.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Imf2GYV0xNo


Very well done.

A World Away

Somewhere in China,
There's a poet just like me.
Struggling with who he is,
Longing to be free.

Does he write his poems down
With a pencil or a pen,
Or does he dip a quill in ink,
Like countless other men?

Does his poetry speak to others,
Or is that secret his?
Do others know his passion,
Or must he keep it hid?

Do they speak of freedom,
In the town where he lives?
Can he dream of having
A life that is only his?

C. 2007 D. Normand

polished cutlery - a writing prompt (exercise).

The cutlery was sharpened and polished. His boss had been after him for weeks now to come up with some new menu item; and item that would bring great attention to the restaurant. Day after day, night after night. The same old thing. "Give me something new; something wild. We need to be famous.

If famous was what he wanted, famous is what he would get. His boss came in that night. Said the same thing, "give me something new, something exciting, something to get my blood flowing." And the chef grabbed his newly sharpened and polished cutlery and sliced through the vegetables and herbs that would become the basis for his new and exciting menu creation. This was just the beginning. And the dish would become famous.

D.

NOTE: I gave myself a writing prompt. The idea was to take a thought and write two pages from it. I got two paragraphs. My concentration is shot. My next project is to create a recipe that can go along with this. Now that is a challenge.

gecko

I was paying bills today and had the television on in the background. I noticed a commercial with that annoying green gecko. The story caught my ear and I started watching.

The story was that the gecko walks into his boss's office because the boss wanted to see him. The boss starts talking about trust. He steps out from behind his desk and starts to do an exercise on trust. This exercise is where one participant trusts that the other participant will catch him as he falls backward. I looked and saw the boss, towering over the gecko and he started to fall backwards.

I was thinking "great, what a perfect way to get rid of this gecko." And then they cut away. They don't tell you what happened to the gecko. I can only hope.

D.

Some Thoughts for a Saturday Night.

I can't swim...very well. I watched the news today about disabled vets learning to water ski (among other things). I just don't like the water.

I can’t read anymore…too much going on. My concentration is shot. I have a household full of books. Tonight on the news was a story about books. They are obsolete. The new method is the "kindle", among others. I should feel good, I can't read (mostly don't have much time) and books are going obsolete. I won't be missing something.

I don't do much around the house anymore. Just not important and I am too tired. Truthfully, I never learned how. I never really liked it, anyway.

I am a poet...in a world where no one reads poetry anymore. What is a person to do? Just keep plugging on I guess.

D.

A little poem for today:

I smiled as you went by,
our hands gently touched.
I let out an audible sigh,
I know, it wasn't much.

D. Normand.