Rock Tumbler

29 November 2009

Rock Tumbler

 

it’s not that I would want to

show anything but a fully polished gem,

but old rocks can become new

if we keep the end in view

and let the process smooth the edges again.

29 November 2009 part 3

Do you see non-motivation as a sign of weakness?

After thinking about this for a minute, I find myself attacking the idea of weakness as a label, as a judgment and that puts me off immediately. Non-motivation I understand. But it is a choice, not a weakness. Now, perhaps the choice is a weakness, for it is ultimately each person’s responsibility to do or not do, to choose or not. I guess I am just splitting hairs over semantics – one of my weaknesses!! I believe we all have the personal responsibility and power to choose. If we decide to not exercise that power, then it could only be judged as a weakness if it is somehow unaccepted or acknowledged that we indeed do have the power to choose. If someone chooses not to do something, there is no weakness, not even one of non-motivation. It is there choice, there consequences and responsibility based on their own choice and power to choose.

Do you severely hate an ex?

No, not even during the deepest, darkest, most depressing times. I tried to be angry and hurt and hateful and dislike her and all of those other emotions, but it was never sustainable or truly felt for more than a moment. It was a reaction perhaps at times, but once the emotion had run its short-lived course, there was always something there I could never erase or escape from, something good and warm and yes, even loving.

Do you share your birthday with anyone famous?

Never cared to investigate, so I have no idea. I do have a cousin, Brian, who was born on my birthday though.

Do you share everything with your friends (clothes, secrets)?

Such a teenager-type question … do adults do this? Still have friends like this? I wonder if partners/spouses even have this depth of sharing sometimes, I mean, I wouldn’t be sharing clothes with Amy, well, maybe her Aeropostel (?) hoodie, but … okay, sharing secrets is slightly different than sharing clothes. In theory, within a committed relationship there shouldn’t be any secrets, right? Reminds me of a recent poem and the ensuing comments, where I quoted Billy Joel’s “The Stranger”. I don’t have a definitive answer to this one, mostly because my cynicism gets the better of me sometimes and I allow it to surface and sneer at certain things, like relationships and sharing and openness and trust and all that. I guess my answer would have to be that I only share some of me, but there is always hope for more … maybe.

Do you share your opinion or keep it to yourself?

Overall, I am not one to share my opinion. Verbally. In writing, I am much freer and more willing to share my thoughts and opinions. It is easier for me to write my thoughts than it is to express them most of the time. It is seldom that I do not have an opinion, although that really does occur where I simply do not care and have none. I might be opinionated, but I am not needy in that respect – I do not need to have my opinion be heard or agreed with either. I prefer that others have their own opinions, hopefully based on something intelligent and not just agreeing for the sake of belonging or acceptance or fitting in. That’s just annoying and idiotic. Think for yourself, speak for yourself, and if necessary, shut up. Arguing over opinions is equally banal and pointless. Yours isn’t right and mine isn’t wrong, they just are. Deal with it. LOL

Do you shave your face regularly?

Hopefully, this is a question directed at males … I have to shave every day because of my job. Otherwise, I would most likely not. I prefer a goatee and mustache, closely trimmed and always neat.

Do you shave your legs regularly?

Likewise, hopefully this is directed at females … because I do not shave my legs … ever.

Do you shop at American Eagle?

Do you shop at Hot Topic?

No. I am not opposed to shopping anywhere, but I am not the type of person that cares about clothes and especially about being fashionable or acceptable because I own and display certain name-brands. I am anti everything, a rebel at heart.

Do you shop for fun or only when you need something?

If I only shopped when I needed something, I’d probably never go shopping. Well, eventually my jeans wear out or I need a new pair of shoes or my socks or underwear need to be replaced for decency’s sake … I can’t remember at the moment who wrote this, but someone said “I buy books and if there is any money left over, I buy food …” or something like that sentiment. Mine would be I buy books and music and eat and if there is any money left and I absolutely have to, I buy whatever else I need. I am perfectly happy window shopping, but I am also an impulsive shopper – buying just to buy. I think women call that retail therapy.

Do you shop online?

Shop, as in look, yes. Buy? Not really. I did bid on and win an auction once on eBay for an incomplete set of paperback books by William Horwood. I bought the second through the fifth book in a series of six. Duncton Wood, the first book in the series, remains one of my all-time favorite books. I have never completed the set because I have been unwilling to pay upwards of $40 for the sixth and final paperback book. Maybe someday I will just to have all six, not to mention I don’t know how the series ends. I also used to buy all of my musical equipment online, but only because I knew I was qualified to choose wisely and shop smart.

Do you shower daily?

No, not everyday. I fall into that somewhat absentminded, lazy, category, where I don’t see the need to have one every day. I am not a scummy person, but I probably place less emphasis on taking care of myself than most people. I did buy a new hand held shower head recently and it is absolutely wonderful to enjoy that, not to mention I can actually get enough water out now to get wet. Plus, being around Amy again on a regular basis certainly motivates me to be clean, smell good, and be presentable in case the moment, well …

Do you shower facing the shower or with your back to it?

Ummm, both … ?? … doesn’t everyone have two side? I have nowhere to go with this one!

Do you shut off the water when you brush your teeth?

Had to think about this one … I think I usually do. I only turn it on to rinse after I am done. Gee, I guess I could almost qualify as being eco-friendly on this one.

Do you sing along to the songs you know when you are in the car?

Yep. Although since I do not own a car anymore, usually Bethany has control over the musical selections if she is in the car, and let’s face it, I do not much of “her” music. We agree on some, but when she listens to the radio, I am lost. A funny anecdote … when I had a car, I was listening to my iPod, driving around with the windows down, and singing along … loudly. It happened to be “She Hates Me” by Puddle of Mudd and a Policeman pulled up alongside of my car in the other lane and actually told me to turn it down or else. I guess he wasn’t impressed with me shouting out the lyrics in the Chorus.

Do you sing along when the “Star-Spangled Banner” is played or sung?

Only during the “and the rockets red glare” part … lol. Okay, sometimes I sing the rest too, but that part is so much fun to butcher because of the high notes! Next, you’ll want to know if I am a true patriot or something …

29 November 2009 part 2

Do you remember your locker combination?

5-42-7 high school but not sure which year. Nines have always been in my life. When Bethany went into high school, we walked her through to find her classes during orientation. My old locker was still there. My old homeroom … sniff sniff … memories.

Do you respect all things?

Define respect. Certain things simply do not earn my respect … spiders for example. Snakes that drop in for a surprise visit. Mosquitoes that are biting me and sucking my blood. Those teeny tiny gnats that attack my eyes and face any time I am out in the woods hiking. Pickerel that bite my hand to shreds when I am trying to release them – well, maybe that one rests on my fault for fishing for them in the first place. I used to make Amy kill all the bugs because I refused to. I have had to kill bees for her though. And obviously living alone has made the bug killing my responsibility – and no, I am not one of those who rescues things and puts them safely outside. On the other hand, I do have a respect for life and for living things to some extent. I do not hunt because I can’t see myself actually killing an animal for sport and I don’t eat them so … I no longer fish for similar reasons. People? Well, that is an entirely different subject and one I’d rather not expound on – respect in that application is a different breed altogether. (no, I do not kill people in case that thought is even implied in the contrasting subjects)

Do you respect people more for staying through the difficult times or knowing when to call it quits?

Prior to three years ago, my answer would have reflected a respect for those who stay committed no matter what, who never give up on one another or the relationship. I always understood why my mom left my dad. But idealistically I always believed in something better, something loftier for myself. I was wrong. This side of our separation and divorce, I think both of us agree that we listened to too many outside voices and made wrong decisions based on too many external opinions and influences. But, I think we also both agree that who we were made it impossible to continue as we were and that only by making the choices that we did, only by going through all of the personal changes we did separately during these last three years apart could we ever possibly have gotten back to saying “hi” last February and all of the wonderful months or relearning and reconnecting and reviving a love that was most definitely dying or dead. Could we have worked things out? Maybe, but in my opinion, not likely. We couldn’t have stayed and grown as we both needed to in order to learn the things we absolutely needed to learn in order to relate to one another again. So, I no longer believe in unconditional love, in that whole “until death do we part” iron clad commitment … sometimes it is necessary and perhaps even better to know when to step out of a relationship, even a marriage, and spend the time to know who you are, what you are willing to give to another, what you need from someone, and rediscover something that can grow and develop into a more satisfying, mutual companionship and commitment.

Do you ride a motorcycle without a helmet?

No. Motorcycles have never really been part of my experience anyway, even though my dad and step-mother had touring Gold Wings for years. My brother-in-law has a Harley too, but I do not drive or ride. I do have a mountain bike (bicycle that is) and usually I always wear a helmet, having experienced many end-overs riding on trails.

Do you role play?

Oh yes, I forgot my master list contains many, ummm, of these types of questions. This one is innocuous enough though, so no, I have not role played in any of my relationships. Yet.

Do you run into people you know at the store?

I see people I know quite often, but I am not the social butterfly type, so I might acknowledge someone, you know the male to male head nod, or the socially polite smile and hi if it is a woman I know. Otherwise, I would not stop and engage someone in conversation usually. Sometimes, I get drawn in, and play along, but I am fairly certain most people who even know me would probably classify me as rather cold, aloof, distant or any number of other superlatives. It is the impression I give I guess, whether it is actually true or not. I can be quite the opposite if I want to be, but perhaps I do not choose to be most of the time.

Do you save a lot of things that are important to you?

Do you save things from your ex or get rid of them?

I think so, but what is important to me, is usually considered rather unimportant to others. I am not overly sentimental I guess. I do not save birthday cards, Christmas cards, or attach much value to things. One of the actions I come close to regretting is my decision to destroy all of the letters Amy and I wrote to one another. I kept them, even after the separation and divorce, until one night I suddenly decided I needed to purge everything that was connected with her memory and I ripped them up by hand and bagged the pieces up in a plastic bag and tossed it into the dumpster. It wasn’t anger, it was something else, maybe a cleansing, a need for closure or something. I was hanging onto the past through them and at the moment I needed to release that. Actually, I still have some of them, as I had been in the process of typing them in as part of my journal, but mostly just from our summer at camp and maybe a few tidbits when we initially went our separate ways to college that Fall. Maybe it is for the best – we can rewrite the story of us.

Do you save your loose change?

Definitely. I have a jar on the countertop and any change I get goes into it. I use it for bus money sometimes, or when it gets full I take it to the bank and pour it into the handy dandy coin counting machine and watch in amazement as the total appears. One time I had over $42 in that little container. As a side note, I can remember my grandfather always saved pennies for us grandkids. I was one of the oldest, so I often got dibs on it. It was a velvet covered dog bank and that was my spending money for candy and little things I wanted. He also collected coins, especially wheat pennies and silver coins, dimes, quarters, Indian head nickels. I was given many of them, but I never kept them as collectibles … to me they were just money to be spent.

Do you scratch?

This is funny. Maybe because I can hear someone else answering this for me – loudly and emphatically. But I should probably clarify. First impression is that this is asking if I scratch, well, certain places. I guess I do sometimes, but my answer would relate to me ALWAYS scratching my left shin. I have a skin condition, probably stemming from poor control of my diabetes, sort of like eczema. It itches horribly and I do have a steroid cream for it, which gets applied occasionally, but not really regularly. It is aggravated by water, by cold, and of course, by itching it and making it worse. Amy hates it when I itch it!! But I am the universe’s WORST patient and do not do what I am told or what might actually be good for me. She has learned to not “mother” me in this regard, despite the irritation she feels.

Do you scream a lot?

Inwardly, yes. All the time. But I am not a verbalizer. I contain it, keep it in, rarely let anything out. So screaming is definitely out for me. Besides, I am not ticklish. I don’t get angry and scream either. Oh, and in case this is meant in yet another subtler context, no as well.

Do you scrunch or fold your toilet paper?

Fold. (hey I am just answering them as they appear in order on the page … )

Do you secretly wish you were more flamboyant?

No. It is not in my personality or social interaction to be flamboyant and I never have desired to be. I am the consummate sideman, always content to be part of, but not in the spotlight of life. I am strongest in this position too, contributing but not necessarily leading, although I am told I have admirable leadership qualities if only I would use them. I have thought about different aspects of myself, of gifts and talents I have and how I have used them, especially musically. That required a certain outgoingness, but I believe I have always portrayed myself in a shyer manner, whether that is truly who I am or not. I do not have that flamboyancy, that attitude or audacity to behave or present myself as something I am not.

29 November 2009 part 1

Do you remember the first 8-track, record, tape, or CD you bought?

I do remember listening to 8-tracks in my older sister’s car, but I never purchased any. My older brother and sister also had equally impressive record collections, Debbie had mostly 45s, while Steve had LPs. I inherited some of them as they moved out on their own. They had vastly different musical taste though. As a teen I collected music, a lifetime passion incidentally, corresponding with my love of books. I had a small record player that could play 45s but I had to insert those adapters into the larger hole in order to fit on the spindle. One Christmas, I think, or perhaps for my birthday, I was given a cassette player and I started buying music on tapes while continuing to buy records too. I was never much of a mainstream music buff, although I went through a phase where I just had to have records from the Top 40. But, I would also look for and buy almost any bargain record or tape or CD. I stopped buying records at some point in high school, enamored of the newer cassettes and CDs. Funny, I just remembered my dad buying me an ELO double album for Christmas one year. I think it was Discovery or Out of the Blue or something. Anyway, I didn’t really answer the question directly, but I am having trouble remembering any specific record as being anywhere near the first purchase …

Do you remember the first names of all of the bosses you’ve ever had?

Names again? No. I have kept a thorough record of every job I have ever had, examining the pros and cons and lessons learned from each. So, technically, I could retrieve that info, but remember it? Nope.

Do you remember the first person you kissed?

Heidi Reed, first grade. Beautiful, long, straight blonde hair, blue eyes …

Do you remember what time your wedding was at?

I believe it was 1 pm. Community Mennonite Church. August 5th. It was so hot that day and the church had no air conditioning and even with the windows open and fans it was still like 100 degrees. I was waiting in the kitchen with my best man and groomsman (?) or whatever the proper term is that corresponds to bridesmaid, and we were eating ice cubes to try and stay cool. We did everything ourselves, designed and printed the invitations and programs, chose the musical pieces, mostly New Age instrumental favorites of mine from the Narada record label, and wrote our own vows of course. I still hear the song we used for the processional once in awhile in my iTunes collection. It was a song by Kitaro.

Do you remember what you dreamed of being when you grew up?

I always wanted to be a Park Ranger or Forest Ranger, something like that. Beyond that, my entire life “wanna be” vision centered primarily on becoming a musician who would travel around and be involved in full-time ministry. Even after 46 years, I am still uncertain if that was really my desire or merely bowing to what others thought I was and should be and do. I certainly sabotaged the plan effectively regardless, but that is a long dark black hole of a tangent into personal responsibility and I’d rather avoid that.

Do you remember where you were when you heard Kurt Cobain had died?

I am a late bloomer, only giving Nirvana a listen long afterwards, like last year LOL. I probably had heard Smells Like Teen Spirit or Come As You Are on the radio or possibly even seen the videos on MTV (back when they really did play music) but otherwise, I was not much of a fan. My musical tastes were more narrow, jazz, New Age instrumental, electronic, classic rock, and of course for much of my life I listened to Christian Contemporary. I did not venture out into much variation until the last few years, part of my intentional mid-life crisis perhaps. Now, I am still very particular and choosy, but I have expanded my listening to many more styles and types of music. Oh yeah, Kurt … short answer – no.

Do you remember who told you about the birds and the bees?

Sadly, no one. In my early teens I discovered a neighbor’s trash bag full of magazines that he had discarded and so did every other kid in the apartment complex, which explains why there were pages strewn throughout the woods for months and months. I haven’t hidden that tainted beginning, but it has been thought through and examined throughout my life.

Do you remember any bedtime rituals?

Mostly, it was no drinks, remember to go pee before I go to bed … no stories, no tucking in, just go to bed usually. I had a bedwetting problem until the year mom left dad and we moved to a new apartment in a new city. I made a few friends but was immediately faced with the “staying over” issue. I had to tell one of my friends why I couldn’t spend the night and they invited me anyway and the problem disappeared from then on. I do remember having an unusually high number of stuffed animals on my bed as a pre-teen and having to arrange them all around me before I could go to sleep. That’s about as close to a ritual as I got I think.

Do you remember your chores?

Dishes and taking the garbage out are the only things I remember ever having to do, plus the constant admonition, pleading by my mom to CLEAN YOUR ROOM!! I never got an allowance, but I do remember having to help out. Mom worked and I was responsible for my younger twin sisters in that in between time from school to when mom came home from work. I wasn’t very domesticated, beyond peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, well into high school. I think I had to do laundry too on occasion. You know, toss it all in and start it, no sorting, no settings LOL. Fold it (somehow) when it came out of the dryer. Mom wasn’t too good at preparing us for life, preferring to do everything herself. But somehow we all turned out okay. I’ve graduated to mac n cheese (box) now. Just kidding, I can cook and clean and am a cute little Mr. Mom, at least a semi-competent bachelor who can take care of himself when he has to.

Do you remember your dreams?

Sometimes. I remember some of the ones that have plagued me by reoccurring throughout my life. I have tried keeping a dream journal, but the process never seems to cooperate much. I played around with Progoff’s Intensive Journal system a few times, but even with that, I was never successful at keeping track of or remembering my dreams.

Do you remember your first big disappointment?

My first thought was that this should have been when mom left dad and we moved, but on reflection, that was not a disappointment, just a shrugging acceptance of the change, unquestioned and without protest. I could point to various romantic disappointments, but that was more of an expectation also. I guess I would have to say that my first serious relationship and the subsequent break-up was my first big disappointment. Since that is so well chronicled in the pages of my journal, I won’t dredge all that up again. I was 18.

Do you remember your high school colors, mascot, cheers, songs?

Maroon and white, mascot was a Trojan soldier, cheers … none I remember, but I still remember my alma mater song, at least parts of it. There are more verses than I recall, but I was able to sing along at one of Bethany’s concerts when they sang the school alma mater so not bad for being away for, OMG almost 30 years!

Do you remember your idols?

I think the closest I come to having any idols would have to be musicians. Phil Keaggy, Kerry Livgren, were two of my first and still enduring favorites. Guitar was my first and primary instrument, so I was always drawn to guitarists. As I expanded my abilities to other instruments, I also garnered additional idols, such as David Lanz, a New Age pianist whose creative sensibilities never cease to amaze me. I became interested in electronic/synthesizer music too and in that genre there are too many to mention, but Robert Rich, Steve Roach, Brian Eno come to mind. When I switched to bass and drums in order to play on various worship teams at churches we attended, I picked up some new idols, such as Neil Pert (drums) and Geddy Lee (bass) two thirds of Rush obviously, one of my all-time favorite bands. Nowadays, I like a little bit of everything and everyone so idols are fewer and far between. I am not so impressionable as I used to be, so I am drawn to different things, good songwriting for instance, as well as musicality, while still listening for that moment of amazing technique and just music that moves me.

28 November 2009 part 4

Quiet Saturday, did some reading, watched the rest of M*A*S*H Season 7  and half of Season 8 before I fell asleep on the couch, checked in with my girls, Amy, Jen, and Bethany, and I should still walk up and check on the cat since Bethany has been off having fun all day and hasn’t been home, but I haven’t found much motivation for venturing outside. But, that’s no reason to make the poor cat starve for food and attention I suppose, so I will go do that and then come back and settle in and answer more questions from my master list of writing prompts. I should have started with the first page since they are in alphabetical order. Maybe I will do that, even though that will mean eventually getting to the dreaded “Describe …” type questions. I despise those for some reason. Anyway, I will be back.

28 November 2009 part 3

Well, that was a fun way to kill three hours. Now that it is nearly six in the morning and the sun is beginning to lighten the sky, I am feeling a bit drowsy again. So, I think it is nap time again. Yes, I know, horrible schedule. It happens from time to time. Amy is away visiting her family until Sunday night. Jennifer is heading to New York City (now actually) for a day trip with the college. Bethany is hanging out with friends and cousins and doing her own thing – checking in occasionally when I text her and ask what she is up to. All I have to do is check on Benjamin, make sure he has food, water, love and attention and play time. Quiet, relaxing weekend. Until next time …

28 November 2009 part 2

Do you receive gifts from your family?

Assuming this means birthdays and Christmas, yes, again defining family in both ways. Mom always remembers, although as I’ve grown older, she has finally figured out that money is better than buying me something I don’t like or want. My younger sisters generally do not get me anything, although on occasion I get a card and money from them as well. As we’ve grown older, with families of our own, we have slowly moved towards focusing on just buying for the kids. We’ve tried exchanging names among the adults, but even that has kind of stopped due to financial stresses.

Amy loves holidays and giving. My own daughters are old enough now to begin gifting on their own, as in not getting money from mom or dad to buy gifts for the same. Bethany bought me one of those sandy beach, palm tree, moving ocean light up pictures last year for Christmas. It even has the “sound” of the waves – horrible, but you can turn down the volume! I guess as I get older, I care less about getting – less, not totally against getting something – and I have moved into trying to give to the kids (and even my granddaughter who just turned two recently). I am beginning to understand the spoiling concept, even though my financial resources to do so remain slim.

Do you regret anything?

No. I bemoan so much of life in my journaling sometimes, but I do not have any regrets. I may never understand the ins and outs and whys of everything, but I still look for the reason behind everything that happens and assume there is a reason for it, even if I never find it. I may not appreciate the pain and hurt and consequences of choices and decisions I have made, but rarely, if ever, do I regret.

Do you remember a gift you made for someone?

When I was a teenager, perhaps 15 or 16, I put together a small collection of poems for each person in my Sunday school class. Some were my own, and some were just ones I liked and wanted to share.

I also went through a period where I was making cassettes of me singing and playing my own songs and giving them to people as gifts, or torture, whichever.

Do you remember a lot of things about people?

Strange question, but yeah, usually I have an almost uncanny ability to remember details, quite often ones I know without being told, simply by quietly observing and paying attention. Then again, memory isn’t what it used to be … I used to be fascinated with memory, remembering, how our minds work. Never did master that whole total recall concept though, not even after watching that memory dude that teaches how to remember every name and person you meet etc.

Do you remember a special birthday party you have had?

Amy seems to think she can get away with surprise parties. She has tried over the years. Each one has some specialness to it, but perhaps her first attempt remains one of my “special” ones. Nothing comes to mind from childhood.

Do you remember an embarrassing moment?

Yep, but I ain’t sharing that. Actually, I am not particularly self-conscious enough to even get embarrassed really. I could probably recall some moment on stage as a musician, royally screwing up the words or the music to something I was performing, but nothing else comes to mind.

Do you remember an incident in a school lunch room?

Yes, vividly to this day. I was in elementary school. My mom or older sister packed my lunch, brown paper bag, no cool lunchbox. I had an orange, cut into halves. I was about to put one of the halves in my mouth when a kid next to me screamed and knocked it away. There was an open safety pin stuck into the orange, point up. Mystery of who put it there never solved.

Do you remember any childhood illnesses?

I was a blue baby, sickly from birth with one thing or another. I remember having numerous babysitters, all the way up to my early teen years. I can remember being at one babysitter’s house and having some kind of stomach virus that kept me in bed for several days, if not longer, and puking my guts out over and over and over. I can see the couch I laid on, the buckets beside me, and the feeling of alienation I felt because I was secluded and quarantined I guess from all while I was sick. I was likely between 8 and 10 years old. I had most childhood illnesses, mumps, measles, etc. but I don’t remember those oddly enough.

Do you remember any of your four grandparents?

Yes. I never knew my dad’s father, but his mom came back into his life, and I knew her for a few years before she passed away when I was young, four or five. His grandmother, my great grandma Bellinger I spent a lot of time with growing up. She raised my dad since his mother left and moved away, returning when he was 18.

On mom’s side, I think I knew her grandmother while she was alive as well, but she also died when I was very young. Her mom and dad were more like parents to me than my own. My dad was an alcoholic and my mom was forced to deal with that in her own ways, which usually meant that I spent more time with my grandparents than I did at home. Weekends and summers I practically lived with them. I owe all three of my grandparents so much.

Grandma Bellinger (great really, but I never called her that, she was just grandma) was an amazing woman, hard working, religious, stern, but fair. She delivered Avon door to door for over 50 years. Her husband had died early as I said, probably when dad was still a toddler … genealogy on his side is extremely difficult to trace, a mystery for another time perhaps. If I stayed with her, I went to church, period. It was never an option. I can see her sitting in her living room chair, reading her Bible. Her attic (see poem Great Grandma Bellinger’s Attic) was my playground, filled with dusty treasures and most importantly, BOOKS!! I believe much of my love for reading and collecting books stems from those early memories. She had shelves full of hardcover books, most first editions. I was wading through Dickens and Algier and Cooper, Emerson and Thoreau from an early age. Her house, indoors and out, was also adorned with plants and flowers in a seemingly endless variety. She grew African violets – those I remember especially for some reason, probably because they were purple!!

Grandpa and Grandma, mom’s side … both were musicians. He played fiddle until arthritis made it impossible for him to bow and then he took up guitar. Grandma was accomplished on harmonica, although I can only vaguely remember ever hearing her play. Grandpa was very protective of his guitars, but eventually, he not only allowed me to see them, and play them, but he gave me my first one … an Epiphone arch top jazz hollow body. Recently I discovered a picture of me playing that guitar in one of mom’s photo albums. I feel music is one of their strongest legacies to me. I have many memories of them, but too many to get down under a response to a single question.

Do you remember anything anyone wrote in your yearbook?

No. My younger sisters desecrated and destroyed my yearbooks from high school, cutting out pictures of the boys they thought were cute. I remember people signing my yearbook, kind of amazing considering how unpopular and generally anti- social I was, that is until my knowledge of computer programming suddenly “earned” me lots of friends in 10th grade. Hey somebody had to do their homework!

Do you remember how many students were in your graduating class?

Not exactly, but for some reason I remember I was something like 187th in my class. I was smart, but only applied myself to things I wanted to, so I was middle, average, unremarkable. Other than in computer math – I maintained a 100 average in that class for three years, only ruining a perfect average because the teacher put one question on the Senior year final exam he knew I could NOT possibly get right. I got a 99. I’d estimate class size around 300 students maybe. No clue anymore.

Do you remember names of people you meet?

Not well, see previous answer in part one about memory. I remember details, but for some odd reason, names are not something that stay with me. There is probably some underlying psychological reason for that but I’ll leave that for another time as well.

28 November 2009 part 1

3 am … only about four hours of sleep and I am impossibly awake, so it’s the weekend, why fight it? I played voyeur and traveled through many blogs tonight, at times enjoying other people’s thoughts and creativity. Tag Surfer just annoyed me tonight though, or perhaps I just allowed myself to hold onto higher expectations and was rightfully disappointed by my own void. What I hope for is so often falling short.

I am just going to dig in, randomly, and write my way through questions …

Do you read during the summer?

Yes. (in my current mood, part of me wishes to just shortchange this process and comment no further, however …) Summer has been a season of increased reading for me. I tend to get outside more, enjoying going on hikes in the woods, which often combine my primary interests, reading, writing, photography, and Nature. Several summers ago, I began reading my way through the stacks at the public library, specifically poetry. I would sign out 10 to 15 books a week, read them and return them for more. Initially, I avoided the larger volumes and collections, anthologies as well as more comprehensive ‘collected works’ by certain poets, opting for variety and ease of actually finishing a book. I used to sit on the swing in the back yard and read, or run away to a wilder place, hang my hammock and read until my gnawing conscience forced me into returning to the responsible reality of life. It’s funny, but like everything else in life, it seems there are tides, patterns of activity. Summer is for getting away, even if it is just escaping into a book.

Do you read magazines?

As a general rule, no. Browse once in awhile if I am mysteriously caught without a book of my own to read or something to write on, but very few magazines pique my interest enough to read. On a moment’s consideration, I’d have to say that magazines, for me, are more about shopping probably. I look for things in magazines, camera equipment, musical equipment, computer equipment, but I guess I don’t think of magazines as reading material.

Do you read non-fiction for pleasure?

Most definitely! Anything having to do with words, dictionaries, thesauruses (or thesauri?) word etymologies, and most anything that relates information, encyclopedias, history, facts, trivia. Psychology, self-help categories, spirituality, religion, even Nature guides. I focus on a narrow set of interests I guess, rarely venturing forth into many other non-fiction categories. I didn’t mention I also read anything and everything about writing, from journaling and memoir, to poetry, short story, fiction, freelancing, although, other than poetry and journaling, I don’t apply much of what I read in any other category.

Do you read romance novels?

Ummm, no. Not in the immediate sense that usually comes to mind. I would be hard-pressed to stretch anything I read into that category actually. I am not really a novel-reading type, outside of a few authors and even then, the novels I do read fall generally within one or two categories – usually fantasy/science-fiction.

Do you read a book all the way through or pick only certain portions?

All the way through, otherwise, what’s the point? Having said that, I read most books, except for the ones that I read solely for story, with a pen … underlining and adding my own notes and running commentary in the margins. If I return to a book I have previously read, most of the time I will reread just the parts I’ve underlined or notated in some manner.

Do you read the newspaper?

Occasionally and usually only portions. You know, comics, Police blotter, obituaries – make sure I am not listed, and beyond that, only whatever catches my eye and interest in the moment. No sports, no politics, world events only if they draw my attention for some reason …

Do you read the tabloids?

No. Not even for entertainment purposes. I’d rather read Help Wanted ads than tabloids.

Do you read your horoscope?

Once in awhile, I admit to reading it. However, despite my eclectic beliefs and spiritual soup, astrology is not an ingredient. I can possibly accept small parts of its system, but overall I find its assumptions too hard to swallow, especially as an accurate, predictive system. Perhaps it has some validity in the same manner that other personality systems do, but that is as far as I would go.

Do you really care about starving children around the world?

No. The variety of social causes is unlimited and I do not discount other people applying their energy to anything they choose to, but I have all I can do to care about myself and the few people in my life that I try to care about. Yes, I know, that is selfish and self-centered and not very global thinking, it does not honor the interconnectedness of all things, and it is entirely too negative but that’s the way it is for me.

Do you really understand what love is?

Nope, but the best understanding I have of it is this: love is a choice. I’ve danced with this topic before, repeatedly. The music is still playing, but I am rather tired of waltzing around and around on this one.

Do you recall any outstanding family trips?

I have had two families, as a child, my biological family so to speak, and my adult family, wife, kids, pets … As a child, I remember going camping once at Hills Creek State Park with family, dad included. That is the only trip that ever comes to mind that included dad. Usually, it was mom, my twin sisters, my aunt and my two cousins. Or else I was with my grandparents – and there were plenty of trips with them including the annual two weeks vacation to Chippewa Bay in the Thousand Islands region along the St. Lawrence River. Grandpa and Grandma were big on road trips and picnics and just going to go see something, so we traveled and saw and experienced a lot of things that were special and memorable to me, but even those were mostly just driving to a State Park for the day or something. Mom and my aunt Nancy took us camping nearly every summer, two divorced women and a bunch of kids, always got lots of attention. We went camping once at Darien Lake, long before it was a Six Flags resort, in fact, it only had a couple of waterslides and a petting zoo when we were there. We also went to Niagara Falls on one trip, Marineland too I think and somewhere a zoo on that trip where I got to pet a black panther in its cage!! And yes, I have all ten fingers still.

As for my married life and family, we went camping once or twice, lots of memories there, screaming kids terrorized by all the nature around them (spiders especially lol). We homeschooled the kids until our separation and Amy always included trips in their activities in one form or another, but generally I was not involved. Usually our trips were visiting her relatives on vacation. I’m sure she would remember more than I do about what we have done over the years but nothing comes to my mind.

Do you recall any special event that took place in your neighborhood?

I grew up in a small town, one gas station, corner store, one main street with a few side streets. Our biggest event was the annual Old Home Days parade and carnival. It was your typical midway carnival but it was extraordinary for our dull, nothing to do kind of town.

After mom and dad divorced, mom moved to a larger city which offered many special events. When I was in high school, my computer math teacher started a parade and celebration that has come to be known as the Sparkle of Christmas and the Parade of Lights. I remember being involved in our attempt to build the largest gingerbread house and get in the Guinness Book of Records. Details are a little fuzzy, after all, it was a long time ago. I only know that we didn’t account for the weight of all that gingerbread and although we did build it and it would have set a record, it collapsed within a few minutes in the parade from all the jostling around. To this day, the celebration continues as a tradition the first Saturday in December every year.

Heirloom

22 July 2009

Heirloom

 

She never left it out

in plain sight, accessible

to curious eyes and fingers.

 

She must have known,

in that uncanny, motherly manner

because its location often changed.

 

She never mentioned it, directly,

in scoldings or prohibitions,

it was just understood.

 

She rarely wore anything from it,

perhaps waiting, or merely remembering

another time, a different meaning.

 

Mom’s white leather jewely box,

rediscovered,

overflowing with semi-precious baubles

 

and a curious

unknown history,

which I will never know.

 

23 November 2009

Tag surfing, or even blog surfing through keywords, which usually highlights the same exact results anyway, so rarely yields any results worth exploring further. Once in awhile I end up discovering a new blog through a comment or a blogroll link that leaves me breathless. I still maintain a list, check it regularly for new writings, comments, and I love seeking out strange new worlds, going where no man has gone before … ooops, now how did that well-worn phrase end up in there? Oh yes, must be stuck in my subconscious from watching the new Star Trek movie the other night. Sorry.

I search primarily for poetry, but I am not limited to only that, well, that is to say, I will read prose posts too. From the cute, anecdotal, to the deeply philosophical (or worse) personal vent/rant. I try to stay within the WordPress platform, but I even occasionally venture off into blogger territory, as in blogspot I mean. I’m sure there are many, many others too I have not even heard of or explored.

I guess tonight I am wondering why. Why do I go off in search of what other people write? I went through a very long, drawn-out phase where I staunchly refused to even read another poet’s poetry. I tried to convince myself that I would be unduly influenced, become a copycat and lose my own individuality, my own voice and style and all that. Oddly enough, I believe I truly became my own poet during the time I suddenly, voraciously began reading other poetry, ten, fifteen volumes a week sometimes. It wasn’t that I started writing like anyone else, or sounding like them, or copying their styles or word choices or line breaks or anything else really. I might have learned from them though, hopefully, and in so doing I allowed myself to stretch and experiment and try new things, explore new ideas and topics and possibilities I might have never considered before. Forms — well that is just using the same building materials; that doesn’t mean the house will be exactly the same at all. Or for a better metaphor — two artists using the same pallette of colors or two musicians using the same 12 notes from any given octave.

Even now, I read volumes of poetry, yes, even dull, seemingly non-redeemable poetry (although I am getting better at allowing myself to not read something if I truly feel it is a waste of my time). I read for entertainment, for learning and observing how someone else uses basic, raw materials, and I read with the hope that something will move me, touch me, inspire me, encourage me to keep on writing myself — despite the artistic self-doubting and resignation that also sometimes results from reading some poets. Another reason I used to justify not reading other poets in my earlier days of attempting to write my own — other people were just too damn good and I felt so inferior and discouraged.

I am astonished and amazed at poets and writers who seem to have a bottomless well of creativity, creating fantastic poem after poem, day after day in some cases. I briefly had a phase where words poured forth, easily, effortlessly. Reminds me of one poem I wrote where I have the line, “you gotta pay to sing the blues”, meaning as poets or songwriters even, we write best when life is unstable, when the road is longer and less straight and has more bumps and more heartache or pain or poem fodder! I guess in that regard, I am not one of those happy, blissful, ever positive optimistic poets, not that there is anything wrong with those at all — it is just not me. I have moments, but I doubt I would win any prizes for being an encouraging, inspirational poet.

Which is probably contradictory because I fully know I am more than capable of being that when I communicate with others, through chat, emails, comments … just proves the old adage that we are infinitely greater at telling others what we refuse to listen to ourselves sometimes. I can encourage, praise, and sincerely, not just to sound nice or say what someone else wants to hear — that is not me. I can be positive, optimistic, uplifting, intuitive, empathic and empathetic, hopeful even — as long as it is towards someone else. As for me, well, that is an entirely different paradigm. But then, that is also apparently, supposedly, my inherent dominant personality characteristics (as described in earlier posts this month).

Another thought, I read as a thief, not as in plagiarism of someone’s intellectual property per se, but in the sense that I read for inspiration, for ideas, for new caves to explore in my own manner, with my own tools. I have a few poems that are sometimes cited by the carefully observant that resemble another poet’s characteristic work, but if I have ever consciously done so, it is at the very best, a poor imitation of some quality of their work. I titled one poem “Emulation (with apologies to Nash)” and in that poem I attempted to imitate his often sardonic wit and shall we say ironic sarcasm. I guess I have also unwittingly mimicked William Carlos Williams (or so I have been told) in his short, often densely loaded poems. At the moment, I cannot recall that specific accusation, although it might have been “By the squeaky swing”.

As I see it, inspiration and ideas belong to the collective unconscious, to the Muse, to whatever is out there that somehow communicates something to whatever lies within that magically finds expression in words and images and meaning through the creative and artistic process. Whether it is a word, a phrase, an idea, or an image or whatever, everything belongs to all and aside from blatant copying from someone else for the intent of calling it our own, I believe we use whatever we find to say whatever we need to say in a way that is uniquely our way of saying it. Put one word on a board and have thirty people write thirty poems and every one of them will be similar, yet unique and different. That is what I mean.

So, for illustration purposes, if I read something in a poem or a personal prose essay, anything that sparks an idea, and I write something from that, spiraling outward until I have conjured up something of my own, even if it resembles something else — and in my opinion, everything everyone creates resembles something else, for there is truly nothing new under the sun — both my poem and whatever inspired it are both equally different and valid.

I am beating a dying horse here, for the point I am making is rather self-explanatory and non-objectionable. I just had a bothersome thought though. Since I also dabble a tiny bit in photography, my view on images is entirely different. For me, I would not use someone else’s images without permission and clearly stated credit. To me, they are physical property. Somehow different than phrases, or ideas. Sure, I suppose someone could go to the same exact location and replicate the photo as nearly as possible and claim it was their own that way, even though I would tend to argue for entirely separate entities in that case with no infringement from either photographer. Words, phrases, ideas are much harder to justify in my opinion as solely anyone one person’s.

Now obviously, I could not take something like “do not go gently into that good night” and ever rationalize using that exact sequence of words or that idea as my own. In my mind though, that doesn’t prohibit using the ideas within the famous line from Dylan Thomas. The idea of death, of dying being a gentle departure, one without a fight, of night being a metaphor for Death, somehow a good one at that, of a journey, going, of surrendering to the inevitable we all face, etc. Ideas cannot belong to anyone specifically, in my opinion. Details? Yes, ideas, no.

Again, no idea why I am battering this. I thought I started out trying to figure out why I enjoy finding and reading other blogs, other poets and writers. Somehow I wandered off without dropping bread crumbs and now I am lost in my own dark woods … not a bad place to be by any means incidentally. I wander and read in order to find my way back to myself. I knew I’d find some way to bring this full circle! By reading what you write, I can continue my own journey through words, as always … nothing but words.