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Month: April 2024

Creativity

Published on April 30, 2024

It is Tuesday and time to write a 'Slice of Life." 
Thank you  Two Writing Teachers for creating this supportive community
of teacher-writers!

31 + 29 + 31 + 30

Today marks the last day of April, and the writing of my 121st poem of the year. I’m one-third of the way through my personal challenge to write a poem each day during 2024. This goal has been made easier to achieve by the Stafford Challenge, which I joined in mid-January, and Ethical ELA’s monthly opportunities to write poetry, including the magnificent VerseLove, 30 days of poetry.

Being ‘in community with others’ feels like an essential element to creativity, offering feedback and inspiration. This past Saturday, I enjoyed two other art communities – music and visual arts. Let me tell you a bit about them –

First off, our music fun. We parked the car to the sound of a street band playing somewhere on the block. As we headed to our festival destination, we heard several other bands playing on porches and in front yards. Despite the cool and rainy weather, folks were happily gathered in the street and on the curbs, eating takeout, sipping drinks, clapping and cheering to songs. This was Petworth Porchfest in Washington, D.C. Two of our children performed, and we had the joy of watching them.

A couple months ago, a singer/songwriter (Leah Danielle) posted an ad on a local neighborhood listserv, asking if anyone wanted to brush up their music skills and create a band. My oldest son, Keith, (who plays bass) responded YES! and immediately suggested my second son, Wade, (who plays guitar) join as well. A singer, a drummer, a bassist, a guitarist – this is a band! They’ve been practicing about once a week, squeezing it in despite their busy schedules; imagine, three of the band members have young children, too.

At PorchFest, bands are assigned one-hour sets at varied locations – front porches, by and large. I believe more than 200 bands participated. The boys’ band (‘Leah Danielle and Friends’) played mostly her original songs, which are mellow and folksy, with a bit of blues. Leah has a spectacular voice. They did two covers – Tracy Chapman’s ‘Give Me One Reason’ and Guns-n-Roses ‘Sweet Child of Mine’. I admit to getting a little misty-eyed with that second, because I was singing along to my own sweet children playing. It was a great show!

Then we said goodbye to Keith (who had to get back to those sweet kids of his) and headed to Artomatic, in the company of Wade and our youngest son, Bryce. Artomatic is this incredible, free, month-long art show that has been held for 25 years here in D.C., showcasing local artists of all types. The creators find ‘free’/transitional space for these exhibits, typically taking over some building that is slated for demolition or remodeling. Imagine my surprise when I realized that this year’s building was that of my old Ob/Gyn’s office. I mean, a lot can happen in 28 years, but it was nevertheless a bit mind bending to see this once posh building now filled with graffitied plywood in wild colors, and temporary exhibits of interactive art, poetry, song, and fashion. I teased my sons – ‘imagine, your hearts were beating in this place, long before you ever walked in.”

We wandered eight floors of magical, mystifying, wondrous creativity – and it was simply too much to take in, with this one visit. Unfortunately, this was Artomatic’s last weekend. Next year, I will schedule more than one visit.

What a day! I fell asleep exhausted, filled with creative thoughts.

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The Robin

Published on April 23, 2024

It is Tuesday and time to write a 'Slice of Life." 
Thank you  Two Writing Teachers for creating this supportive community
of teacher-writers!

Is there any special meaning when a robin crosses your path? They are, to my eye, the very harbinger of spring. Some say they offer good luck, positivity, and joy. Others say a robin suggests growth, renewal, change.

It’s one thing to see them bob-bob-bobbin’ along across the lawn, perhaps pulling a worm from the ground. It’s another thing entirely, in my opinion, what’s been going on at my house recently. Early one morning a couple weeks ago, a robin tapped at our bedroom window, not once, not twice, but over and over. The same robin returned the next day. And many days thereafter. Here, our granddaughter (amusingly, nicknamed “Bird”) discovers him, tapping hello –

Scientists posit that this behavior means that they are being territorial, that they can see their reflection and are ‘fighting off’ another bird:

If a robin has chosen your yard and location as a good site (yeah for you as they are very cool birds), then both parents will defend that area throughout the nesting period. That means that ‘other’ robin in the window is a real threat to them. The more energy and time they take to fight that guy, the less they spend with their babies or eggs or feeding. So, it is helpful for the bird for you to intervene and convince them that the bird they are seeing is gone.
Native Bird Care (Oregon)

We’ve lived in this house more than thirty years; I’ve never seen such bird behavior before. What has changed? We are quite certain our visitor is one robin and not a variety of robins; we have been studying their feathers and shape. Thinking that the nearby shrubs might be harboring a bird’s nest, I went out and checked out the landscaping in the vicinity of our bedroom window. There was no sign of a bird’s nest. The robin must be feeling territorial for some other reason than protecting a nest. Perhaps they have discovered some yummy nearby ‘fast food’ berries or worms, and are trying to protect their stash from other robins?

Just today, I added this crocheted shawl to the window in order to change the light and glare, to reduce the possibility of the robin seeing their reflection:

This is not the look I was going for in my bedroom, but I’m beginning to feel responsible and worried about that robin. They’ve left dozens of scratch marks on my window glass; their beak must be getting quite sore.

One day in, the stats are great: no robin visited the window today. Let me close with a simple revision of Rock-In Robin:

He rocks at our window all day long
Hoppin' and a-boppin' and a-singing his song
All the lil’ people that live at this house
Are trying to figure this out, out, out

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Musing

Published on April 16, 2024

It is Tuesday and time to write a 'Slice of Life." 
Thank you  Two Writing Teachers for creating this supportive community
of teacher-writers!

Someone is singing an opera in my backyard as I write; they’ve been at it all morning. My Merlin app tells me they are a Northern Flicker, a visually beautiful dear soul with dotted plumage, yet I cannot catch even one tiny glance. They prefer to sing from deep within the leafing branches of the maple tree, and perhaps their song is one of lament because I am not able to see them. Yes, I put myself at the center of their song.

I don’t know what to tell you.

Hmm.

Does anyone else have trouble starting a ‘Slice of Life,’ now that the March challenge is over and the writing is not daily?

Which personal thread to grab onto and run-write with it?

I simply don’t know.

I could tell you about my relaxing weekend in the woods, on retreat with my book group. I could write about our conversation about Ann Patchett’s Tom Lake. Oh, and how a few of us watched the 1940 film classic of Our Town, as a little ‘background’ for the book.

(Should I tell you how surprising it was that this movie deigned to create a new ‘happy’ ending for Thornton Wilder’s play?)

I could focus on just one hike, share with you the sweet spring growth I observed. Here are a couple photos of this emergence:

Oh, but I’ve shared about countless hikes in this space.

How about I tell you about the book I’m reading – Terrance Hayes’ Watch Your Language? I am absolutely awed by his witty and playful writing, how he draws clever doodles throughout the book, and simultaneously offers so much scholarly wisdom on Black poets and the history of modern poetry in general. He is piercing many myths I have swallowed whole. With every page, my understanding and curiosity about poetry expands.

I don’t know where to begin.

Consider this excerpt about Gwendolyn Brooks, as he considers the historical timeline of ‘modern great poets’ –

Brooks makes any conversation about American poetry of the last half century more interesting. Brooks was born in 1917, the same year as Robert Lowell, who won the Pulitzer in 1947, three years before Brooks. When he passed in 1977 Lowell was considered one of the chief poets of the twentieth century. He taught both Anne Sexton and Sylvia Plath. His family history could be traced back to the Mayflower.

As Robert Lowell is to Anne Sexton and Sylvia Plath, Brooks is to several generations of poets. Brooks met with James Baldwin and many Black poets of the era in her living room. I wish there was a better record of her relationship with Sonia Sanchez, their chats about motherhood, poetry, Blackness, community. Sonia Sanchez published her debut, Homecoming, in 1969, the same year Lucille Clifton published her debut, Good Times. Audre Lorde published The First Cities, her debut, in 1968. Brooks was a central figure in the work of all three poets.
Terrance Hayes, Watch Your Language, pp 24-25

He notes, 
“She often goes unacknowledged the way caretakers and angels go unacknowledged.” 

Terrance Hayes’ writing sends me tumbling, makes me pause, reflect, and re-read. He makes me wonder about all the details that were left out of my schooling. I chase down my Gwendolyn Brooks poetry book and lose myself within. 

There is so much I was never taught. 
There is so much that was so dull about the way I was taught. 
There is so much more to learn. 

Why was I never challenged to question? 

I don’t know what to tell you.

Let me close with a poem I wrote yesterday for Ethical ELA, where Angie Braaten prompted us to write an elegy, with inspiration from Clint Smith's poem “Playground Elegy.” Honestly, I think all of my above rambles fed into this poem:

Textbook Elegy

The first time       I penned                  my name and date
in that       rectangle stamp       of the history textbook 
reading the     names of students     from years before 
I turned   quickly   to      chapter one,              devouring. 
Each   line      of text     so pure and real and insightful.
I studied every page and absorbed  great knowledge.
I looked forward      to the next year’s               textbook
revealing    so much                 more                 of the world.
It would be  years   before I noticed its     white space. 
I knew sanitized only from the bathroom.          I knew
sifted from cakes,                      left out from friendships,
omitted from   don’t say that      around mom and dad. 
I didn’t know                 what                              I didn’t know. 
I read with joy,                     absorbing believing trusting.
Now I wonder who   powers  every single line of text
and do students wonder about this and does anyone
know         what is not written.

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Shedding the Wild

Published on April 9, 2024

It is Tuesday and time to write a 'Slice of Life." 
Thank you  Two Writing Teachers for creating this supportive community
of teacher-writers!

I gazed out the window while chatting on the phone with a friend, and froze mid-conversation – uh! I’ve gotta go! I’ll call you back! Sorry! – and I immediately disconnected. I was astounded at the sight. He was sitting right at the corner of our shed, not quite licking his paws, but as if this was where he belonged, as if he didn’t have a care in the world, as if his owners hadn’t spent the last week plus looking furiously for this little fellow. Oh my goodness! There’s Dear One! In our backyard!

I wrote last week about my neighbor’s cat slipping from their house during a plumbing fiasco, and the sad unease that had settled over all of us when the cat could not be found. This seems the perfect story for today’s slice: Dear One is back home, safe and sound.

On EthicalELA’s #VerseLove on April 7, the host James suggested honing in on “a fleeting moment, [where] everything seemed glorious and wonderful and possible.” Finding the lost cat was exactly this, as if everything was back in place as it should be. I had fun writing my first Chōka poem in response to this prompt, about the cat coming back. (As explained on #VerseLove, Chōka is a Japanese style of poetry, of indefinite length, consisting of alternating lines of 5 and 7 syllables, with an extra 7-syllable line at the end.) Here is my poem:

you are home again

cold rains bruising breeze
where have you run to for warmth
days of wondering
you slipped out an open door
away from two who
love you feed you tend to you
little cat dear one
everyone’s looking for you
seven days of sad
fearful nights as foxes creep
never you, no you
what can we do but accept
your forever loss?

wait, that’s YOU in our backyard
sitting so pleased with yourself

What I did not express in that poem, however, was the wild fiasco of the chase to catch the cat. Oh my! Seriously, someone should have filmed the adventure for the sheer humor of it.

I dropped my phone call without explanation and phoned my neighbor, who did not answer. I cautiously opened my back door, stepped out into the cold, muddy yard in my socks, called out softly to Dear One, only to send the cat running away, under our shed. I yelped “STOP!” (not an effective word for a cat, in retrospect) and ran to my neighbor’s house, who – thankfully – was out in his backyard.

“Quick! Come! He’s in my backyard!!”

We raced back towards the shed and got down on our bellies to look under it. Together, we tried to cajole the cat to come out from the back recesses. We tried to stretch our bodies long and wide enough around the circumference of the shed to limit the cat’s exit, both of us pleading with tsih-tsih-tsih, kitty-kitty-kitty. My neighbor raced home to collect the humane cage that he’d set up in his backyard, in hopes of catching Dear One. We searched for rocks and bricks to block some of the gaps under the shed, hoping to funnel him towards the cage. We tried to gently poke and prod Dear One, singing and cooing his name, and we offered him food, all to no avail. Dear One watched us with wide scared eyes.

My husband returned home from an errand at this point of the chase. He’s unable to see my neighbor at the far end of the shed, and instead finds only me, crouched, talking to someone invisible. He paused. Then, he asked – “uh, is everything alright?”

No time for small talk! Tony drops what he was doing and joins us, trying to bring Dear One back to safety. “Anxious” has been the cat’s personality since his earliest days, and this situation had him cowering and overwhelmed; he was not coming out from under that shed.

We step back to rethink, reevaluate. I retreat for a brief moment and put on my shoes. Then, the grand (and ultimately successful?) plan: Tony and I will block the sides of the shed while our neighbor sprays a bit of water onto Dear One with the hose – gently, oh so gently. The cage is placed “at the exit.”

Ready, set, let it flow!

In a heartbeat, Dear One surprises us, finding a new and unexpected exit from beneath the shed (makes his way out of no way) and we are all three wildly chasing him along the tight squeeze behind the shed.

(I am immediately reminded of a wayward preschooler who slipped out the school gate towards a very busy road, and it was ‘all hands on deck,’ chasing the errant fellow.)

FINALLY, my neighbor scoops him up – only to have a very frightened Dear One howl, scratch, and bite him. OUCH!! He pops the cat into the waiting cage.

My neighbor’s eyes glistened with joy.

It feels like a small miracle, a hard-earned one, to have that cat back home.

Just today, I returned home from a walk to see Dear One cozily asleep in the front window of his home. My neighbors say that he has been so happy to be home again – purring all the time, staying close by their sides, and demanding to be petted. He has lost a good bit of his anxious aloofness, wanting their company. He has also lost a lot of weight after a week on his own, and they are spoiling him with his favorite foods. All is right with the world.

One wonders what went on while he was ‘in the wild.’

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Dear Cat

Published on April 2, 2024

It is Tuesday and time to share a Slice of Life. Thank you, Two Writing Teachers, for creating this supportive community of teacher-writers!

This little fellow has gone missing.

He slipped out of an open door at my neighbors’ home four days ago, and has not returned home.

The door was inadvertently left open by a plumber, who was hard at work on a huge issue (a pinhole leak in pipes in the the front yard) and had no idea there was any reason to NOT leave the door open.

The neighbors forgot to caution the plumber about the door, because they were so caught up in the stress of the leaking pipe. Also, they hadn’t really thought about the plumber’s need to go inside the house from time to time.

Now, they are both frantically searching for Dear One. He was a stray, who stumbled upon their backyard as a kitten some nine or ten years ago. There had been a feral pregnant cat in our neighborhood, and this little kitten was quite likely one of her litter. The neighbors noted his gorgeous fluffy fur and his small size, and they set up a humane trap with a bit of food and a warm towel. The little kitten wandered inside and was caught. Dear One became an indoor cat, loved and cared for all these many years by these kind neighbors.

I have taken care of Dear One many times when my neighbors have been traveling. I know him to be shy and anxious, scurrying away anytime I am in the same room. If the neighbors are gone for longer than a week, Dear One will dare to spend a bit more time with me. I have always considered it a gift on these rare occasions, when he and I can be standing perfectly still, staring at one another from across a room.

Dear One is not aloof with his owners, of course. Dear One likes to perch on the arm of their chairs when they are working or lounging at home.

Here’s a list of some of the tricks and lures they are using to attract Dear One back to their home:

contacted a cat expert (a cat whisperer?)
posted signs throughout the neighborhood
posted on our neighborhood listserv
talked with every neighbor
set up another humane trap
set out some favorite cat toys
draped a couple of their shirts on a nearby fence post, for attractive scent
there is tuna fish on a plate
a cat litter box at the basement entrance
vigilantly searched their surroundings and neighboring yards, many, many times

To date, nothing has worked.

They have security cameras on their home, and they witnessed Dear One crossing the backyard around 1-2 a.m. the first two nights. So, they set themselves up in the backyard on the third night, sitting quietly in the dark at the same time, making sweet cat noises. Sadly, no Dear One.

The fourth night, it was pouring rain. No sign of Dear One. No neighbors sitting out back.

The security camera showed two foxes, however, bravely crossing through the yard.

This is so unsettling. Everyone feels so helpless. How to lure Dear One back home?

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Poem1 -#hashtag

Published on April 1, 2024

In March 2024, I participated in  Two Writing Teachers'
17th Annual Slice of Life Story Challenge!
I wrote a 'slice of life' each day for a 31-day writing streak.

May I just say, today felt so much lighter.

I did not have to write and edit and start over and correct and review and polish a story. I did not have to read three, five, ten, as many as possible, slices written by others, and offer a small positive comment on their amazing words. I am in withdrawal from all the work of March, and basking in the freedom.

April means challenge as well, though an easier one for me. I am participating in Sarah Donovan’s VerseLove on Ethical ELA this month. I’m reading inspirations and writing poetry for thirty days. It is another fabulous community of teacher writers.

Should I publish my poem responses each day on my blog? I’m on the fence on this. Many of these (including today’s) feel like drafts, unpolished. However, to publish mine today means that I can post the cool icon supplied by Two Writing Teachers: yes, I had a 31-day writing streak! Woohoo!

(And with this post, it is actually a 32-day streak, lol.)

Today’s inspiration was from a fellow slicer Kimberly Johnson and it is called #hastagacrostics, which she describes as:

use the letters [of your name] to make a hashtag acrostic to introduce yourself to your #VerseLove family! You can #smashyourwordstogether or #space them apart.
Kimberly Johnson, https://www.ethicalela.com/hashtagacrostics/

Here’s my little poem for today –

- Let me introduce myself -

#Meanderingthroughmountains
#Atrowelhelpsrtodigdeep
#Ufascinateme
#Rationalizingchocolate
#Engagesinwordplay
#Energizedbyart-paint-draw-collage 
#Nanaenchantedbylove

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