Garden Vegetables

Last night we had dinner with my mom and dad. I had made a gift of dinner to my dad for Father's Day. All he had to do was call with the request. I think I still owe him dinner, after all the times he fed me as a kid.

The idea was that we would pick the dinner up and deliver it to his house. He doesn't seem to get around very well these days. And my mom fell on Tuesday and hurt her foot, so she is hobbling, too. So, we would pick up dinner and deliver it to them. We would also sit and enjoy their company. It would be nice.

Knowing that my mom hurt her foot I figured this week would be a great time to take them dinner. When I talked to my mom she said that dad was up to going to the restaurant. It was always his favorite, so we made the arrangements to meet them there.

My dad is an old North Dakota farm boy. I was raised in and always lived in a city, but my dad always had a garden. The victory garden, the vegetable garden, his weekend hobby. I remember he always had one, even the summer of 1968 in Buffalo, New York, he always had a garden. Still does, although his age and ailments precludes the effort he used to put into it. He still has vegetables growing.

And so do I. This year I planted tomatoes, peppers, corn, yellow squash, zucchini and pumpkins. I must admit that my garden isn't doing as well as my dad's gardens used to, but I have been away for awhile and I know I need to water more. Even now, as I look out I see corn with yellow leaves and wilted squash plants. I turned the water on. There, that ought to help.

Even though my garden is not the greatest of gardens it has been producing. So last night I brought two zucchini's for my mom and dad. They seemed very grateful. My dad remarked that this was a first. "This is the first time one of my children has brought me vegetables from their own garden." I could tell that it meant a lot to him. It means a lot to me, too.

I feel extremely grateful to my dad for teaching me the value of fresh vegetables. Indeed, he tried to teach me years ago, but I was too young or too distracted, or whatever, to really listen. Yet now, as I try my hand at gardening again, I find that I really was listening to those words years ago. We really do learn. I am extremely thankful for the gifts from my old man.

D.

Today we witnessed an "attempted murder".

This morning during our usual Sunday morning walk, my wife, my daughter and I witnessed an attempted murder. It was not as shocking as you would expect. Bear with me a sec.

We were walking down one of our normal, quiet neighborhood streets on our way to our favorite coffee shop for our Sunday morning spiritual. The trip to the shop was perfect. The weather was amazing, a beautiful spring day, not a cloud in the sky, the sun beating down and a wonderful, cool breeze came from the ocean. There was the normal greetings of the neighborhood birds and their sweet sounds are one of the reasons we love these morning walks. It is what makes our neighborhood so livable.

On our way back from the coffee shop, our thirst satiated and our spirits lifted, we spotted some crows on a nearby house. My wife saw it first and noted that there was a party on the roof. I said that it was a murder of crows (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/A_Murder_of_Crows_(literal), noting that a flock of crows was a "murder". But my wife said that it was hardly a flock (there were only three). So my daughter said that it was an "attempted murder".

Squirrel Plague

Last night we attended the Battle of the Bands at my son's high school. Tim's band tied with 7 other bands for 4th place. Tim's band, Squirrel Plague, had the largest contingent of rabid, dancing fans. Unfortunately, crowd favorites was not a category. Prior to the band taking the stage, two girls behind us were talking about Squirrel Plague coming up next. During their set, about 15 dancers entered the stage - all unplanned and spontaneous - and danced back and forth across the stage. It was a sight to be seen.

D.

Spring Saturday

Ah, the wonderful spring Saturday. Beautiful weather, warm, 72ºF, not a cloud in the sky, light cool breeze. Perfect day for weeding the flower beds and garden. After the weeding was done I turned the water on. I was watering the vegetables when a hummingbird flew and hovered right next to me, not three feet away. I turned and asked him (her) what he was doing. What do you want? Some water? I realized that I had not watered the honeysuckle in a while. I think he was looking for some water. I turned my attention to the other bushes in the yard. I think I saw the hummingbird lingering in the spray of my garden hose. So cool.

D.

"Longing For Peace"

I wanted to share this from a fellow blogger. She is a friend of a facebook friend. She lives in Israel. I think her thoughts say it all. Sometimes we don't really see the whole story. Check it out. God bless.

http://what-kt-did.blogspot.com/

D.

Phillis Wheatley

Tonight I read a few paragraphs on the poet Phillis Wheatley. I had read her poetry before and I thoroughly enjoyed it but I never pursued any in depth study. Tonight I read about her story.

From Poets.org:
"Phillis Wheatley was the first black poet in America to publish a book. She was born around 1753 in West Africa and brought to New England in 1761, where John Wheatley of Boston purchased her as a gift for his wife. Although they brought her into the household as a slave, the Wheatleys took a great interest in Phillis's education. Many biographers have pointed to her precocity; Wheatley learned to read and write English by the age of nine, and she became familiar with Latin, Greek, the Bible, and selected classics at an early age. She began writing poetry at thirteen, modeling her work on the English poets of the time, particularly John Milton, Thomas Gray, and Alexander Pope."

She was 8 years old when brought to America and "purchased as a gift for his wife". I pray that we have come far. I understand that America is the only nation on the face of the earth to have fought a war about slavery. Hundreds of thousands of people died so that we could abolish this curse.

I find it odd that slavery still exists in this world. It is a shame. Have we humans not learned anything?

other ideas

We have this house. It needs work. I still have yet to paint the family room, or trim the door, or install the floor boards. There are always more pressing things to be done. I would rather spend time with my wife, share moments with her than show my incompetence with a hammer. I would rather spend time with my family than make mistakes at handyman projects around the house.

The yard is full of weeds. The garden has not been planted. The trash in the yard not carried to the dump. I am not a very good carpenter, gardener, painter or handyman. I am lazy.

And yet, the heater works, the roof doesn't leak and the doors remain locked. My family is safe, well fed and, I hope, happy.

There are more important things in life than a green lawn or a showcased house. I cherish the quality time I can spend with my family.

Or maybe it is just a lazy man's rationalizations.

D.

Cell Phone in traffic.

Tonight I decided to celebrate the "almost end of Spring Break" with my daughter by taking the family out to dinner. My wife and I chose a nice seafood restaurant downtown that we had been wanting to take the kids. This meant driving the southern California freeways at rush hour. Our town is such that we would, luckily, be driving against traffic.

We left our house for the 20 minute drive to the restaurant. On the way there we were on the freeway. My kids created a new game. Catch the Cell Phoners and Texters. On the way to the restaurant, 15 minutes they spotted three individuals on their cell phones. I believe one was texting. This in a state where using a cell phone while driving is a moving violation. We were shocked.

On the way home, it was dark. We were on the freeway driving home and spotted 11 different drivers using cell phones. It is interesing. I guess they were all late for dinner.

Be careful out there.

D.

Earthquake, 7.2 Calexico, Mexico

We felt this earthquake this afternoon. I was just coming in from outside on the back patio. Most of my entire side yard is covered in concrete. My wife poked her head out the kitchen door and asked if I felt that. I said 'What?' She said 'earthquake'. I was in the doorway. I held on to the door jamb and I could fell the earth move. It lasted for a good 20 - 30 seconds. I have lived in California for the last thirty years and this was the most I have felt it shake. Pretty incredible.

No damage here at our house. Just kind of shaken up. I hope everyone is ok. I dare say there will be some damage in Calexico (about 110 miles south, southwest of here). I wish them well.

D.

Update: Upgraded to 7.2 mag. after a seismologist looked at the data. Two people dead in Mexico.

As an aside, people have commented on the differences of the death tolls between Haiti and this latest earthquake in Northern Mexico. Differences are in the construction of buildings, mostly because of the strength of concrete and its ability to withstand hurricanes. I think it is mostly a structural issue and not a cultural one.

Easter, 1993

To my daughter, 3 years old at the time. How much fun we had.

Orange and blue and yellow and red.
"make some green," you said.
Said I to you,
"I'll make them blue
and yellow, orange and red."
But you persist,
"Make some green," again you said.
"We have eggs of red and yellow,
eggs of orange and blue."
And you went on to name
the colors as you know 'em.
But I'll not make eggs of green
like a childhood poem.
"But," you said with glee,
"I like green."
But green eggs are not for me.

So now you sit
and make your face to pout.
And your mother says to me
"Make some green."
And I was much put out.


by David R. Normand
Author's Comments:
"We were having fun. I would have made green eggs for her anyway. It was our favorite book."

"Who Do You Think You Are?"

Tonight my wife and I watched on television that new show about genealogy, "Who Do You Think You Are?". I was fascinated by the way this episode turned out for reasons that I will discuss later. Tonight's episode followed Matthew Broderick's search for his maternal great-great-great-(great?) grandfather. I have seen three of these shows and each has touched me quite unexpectedly.

The first show that we saw dealt with Sarah Jessica Parker. It was interesting. She followed her great grandfather to the gold fields of California. She traced his life to an area near Placerville, California and at one point was travelling up "Pleasant Valley Road". My brothers and sisters will note that this is the same road on which we lived for two years in the 60's. (My youngest sister was born in Placerville.) I think I am destined to watch the show. These shows are hitting close to home.

I mean, I used to live in Placerville, and Sarah Jessica Parker drove right by my old house. And for tonight's search, Matthew Broderick found his great-great-great-grandfather's grave and I have always been fascinated by cemeteries. I should explain that a bit further.

During the course of my spiritual, secondary and collegial education I developed an interest in life stories, the dash, so to speak. (Birth-death, where the dash means the entire list of accomplishments of a persons life.) I was fascinated how a cemetery can house a persons body and list there historical record - every one has a story. Everyone has a story that really can't be told on a headstone. I discovered this and set on a journey to make my "dash" mean something.

Part of that quest is the establishment of this blog two and a half years ago. Part of that quest is my poetry and my writing; my beautiful wife and two beautiful children; my life and my work. I am constantly searching for meaning in my life. It is an ongoing journey.

I wish you luck and good fortune in your quests.
D.

Our punny language.

We have a punny language. English. Funny how you drive on a parkway and park on a driveway? I mentioned this to my son and he said, "yeah, and your nose runs, but your feet smell."

Go ahead, give me some more.

D.

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.