Monthly Archives: May 2008

garden legacies

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Yesterday’s Myrln posthumous post was a poem with a “life as a garden” metaphor. Reading it made me think about how many of the legacies he left are what continue to grow from the seeds of his thoughts, his words.
While the “garden” has always been a life metaphor for me as well, I tend to use it in a different way. And that fact is also a perfect metaphor for how we related as spouses: we started in the same place, with the same need, but we went out from there in very different directions.
Here’s my garden poem, written in 2002 and posted here (with photo) in 2003.
The Gravity of Gardens
They gave me a garden
the size of a grave,
so I filled it with raucous
reminders of sense:
marigold nests,
nasturtium fountains,
explosions of parsley, and
layers of lavender —
forests of tomato plants
asserting lush ascendance
over scent-full beds of
rosemary, basil, and sage.
And waving madly above them all,
stalks of perplexing
Jerusalem artichoke,
an unkillable weed
that blossoms and burrows
and grows up to nine feet tall,
defying the grim arrogance
of gravity.
elf
may 02
My literal gardens are transient. When I move away, they decay away and are forgotten. Such is the nature of many of my legacies.
Once in a while, though, I need to believe in something permanent — hence, the two lilac trees I planted back from the edge of the woods around this house, where my brother most likely will not mow or snow blow them down when I move away from here. Someday, new owners will look out the window at the acres of rotting windfall and scraggly brush and old shaggy trees and see two blooming lilac bushes — a sepia landscape touched with unexpected color.

Myrln Monday (4)

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Myrln is gone, but his spirit remains with us in the power of his words, thanks to our daughter, who salvaged his collection of writings.
Myrln’s birthdate is this Thursday. He would have been 71.

Poem for My Birthday
Through years
— with seeds my own, some received before, some given later —
I planted myself:
a feeling there, a thought,
a sense of what might be, was, seemed to be,
a tear, a laugh, angry shouts and happy,
whispers, a reaching, holding, letting go, loving,
isolationliness,
some hiding, fear, joy, longing,
scatterings
of pain, risk, uncertainy, determination,
bit by bit
seeding through the years.

And making my garden of word and heart:
some parts stillgrown,
others modest,
and a few full flourished,
all being the what why where
whole of me.

waf
may ’03

a mother’s day tribute to my kids (reprised)

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I wrote this two years ago. It’s worth repeating.
Some women take to mothering naturally. I had to work at it. And so I wasn’t the best mother in the world. I would have worked outside the home whether I had been a single mom or not. But because I was, mine were latchkey kids, with my daughter, beginning at age 12, taking care of her younger brother, age 5, after school. I left them some evenings to go out on dates. Oh, I did cook them healthy meals, and even cookies sometimes. I made their Halloween costumes and went to all parent events at their schools. My daughter took ballet lessons, belonged to 4H (but I got kicked out as Assistant Leader because I wouldn’t salute the flag during the Vietnam War) . I made my son a Dr. Who scarf and took him to Dr. Who fan events. I bought him lots of comic books and taught him how to throw a ball. But most of all, I think/hope I did for them what my mother was never able to do for me, — give them the freedom to become who they wanted to be — to explore, make mistakes, and search for their bliss. I think/hope that I always let them know that, as far as I was concerned, they were OK just the way they were/are. (Me and that dear now dead Mr. Rogers.) Not having had that affirmation from my mother still affects my relationship with her. I hope that my doing that right for them neutralizes all the wrong things I did as they were growing up.
So, you two (now adult) kids, here’s to you both. You keep me young, you keep me informed, you keep me honest, and, in many ways, you keep me vital. I’m so glad that I’m your mother.
So, in memory of those not-always-good ol’ days that you two managed to survive with flying colors, here you are, playing “air guitar and drums” — enjoying each other’s company sometime in the 70s and bringing so much joy into my life.
70skids.jpg

new bird on the block

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All of the creatures, medium and small, are back to feed in the little space in which our bird feeders hang. It’s the same place where the deer and the bear made their hunger-driven appearances over the winter. Now the space is teeming with the usual chipmunks and squirrels; gold and other finches, including an indigo bunting; the usual flocks of mourning doves and cow birds and house wrens; and the four different kinds of woodpeckers that we’ve been able to identify.
Today, a new movement beyond the window caught my eye. It was a huge wild turkey hen brazenly invading the territory of the usual suspects. And, with might making right, she pretty much grazed wherever she pleased, temporarily displacing the smaller creatures.
If she comes back, it must mean she has her nest nearby. Wild turkeys build their nests on the ground in wooded areas. Perhaps she will return with her brood.
At this rate, I’m going to have to increase my bird food budget. All birds, great and small, are welcome here.

help find this hat???

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The whole story is here, but the gist of it is this:
b!x has been all over online trying to find this Bailey’s hat in a size large. He wants to wear it to his Dad’s memorial celebration on May 25, which means he needs to get one by May 21, before he gets on a plane to come east for the event. (His Dad passed away on April 10.) There are none available online by the deadline.
Here’s the challenge. If there’s a men’s hat store anywhere near you, dear reader, could you call them and see if they have that hat, which is a black “Johnny” braided (straw) porkpie from Bailey (item # 81680), size large.
If they have the hat, please leave a comment here letting me know how b!X or I can get in touch with you and arrange to have to hat bought and sent to him.
Again, there’s no way to get it on time online, so b!X is hoping someone out there will make a miracle and find him one that he can get on his head by May 21. (It’s a son-father thing.)
THIS IS A HAT EMERGENCY!
Well, why not.

Myrln Monday (3)

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Myrln is gone, but his spirit remains with us in the power of his words:
From a scrap of paper on his desk — quickly hand-scrawled, a stray thought, bit of story, strand of memory:
Dinner table – metal goblets

These goblets belonged to my mother. Asked us to drink a toast from them because had she lived she would have been 89 years tomorrow. She was 23 when she had me, and had only 4 more years left to live. There are 4 generations sitting here today. I ask you, in her memory, to remember to make the most always of the time you have with those you love and who love you. So, Mamma, here’s to you…salut…by remembering you, we remember ourselves.

salut
See www.myrln.com for information about the remembrance party being held in his honor on May 25, as well as plans for publishing his non-published works.

I don’t believe in yesterday

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Yesterday was the “National Day of Prayer.”
In acknowledgment of the occasion, I quote here from my favorite scientist/atheist’s weblog, Pharyngula.

I can scarcely believe my country is officially pandering to such willful stupidity — elevating evangelical kooks to positions of prestige, trumpeting the virtues of sectarian religion, and actually crediting the successes of America to the fact that a subset of deluded, demented fools sit on their asses and beg an invisible man to protect us and help us kill people in foreign countries. What a waste, and what an encouragement of further waste.

I feel like just declaring this the official National Day of Derangement and writing it all off, maybe spit in the soup of people who say grace, or flip off any group I catch trying to do a collective exercise in ritual invocation of nonexistent beings, but the Minnesota Atheists have a more productive idea: they are calling this a National Day of Reason and are setting up to demonstrate in the Minnesota capitol in St Paul today. They actually have a prime position, and all the legislators leaving their workplace to join in the National Day of Inanity will have to troop by them. In my dreams, these politicians would feel a little sense of shame at the foolishness of the official events, but in reality, I’m sure they won’t.

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honk if you love truckers

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Now, I usually don’t have much good to say about big rigs. Out on the interstates, they slow me down going upgrade and whoosh by me going downgrade, while I have my cruise control set to the ultimate speed that won’t get me a ticket.
But I’ve gotta love those truckers who are banding together in a Fuel Protest that has import for all of us.
According to here (which is worth reading in its entirety):

The truckers who organized the protests – by CB radio and internet – have a specific goal: reducing the price of diesel fuel. They are owner-operators, meaning they are also businesspeople, and they can’t break even with current fuel costs. They want the government to release its fuel reserves. They want an investigation into oil company profits and government subsidies of the oil companies. Of the drivers I talked to, all were acutely aware that the government had found, in the course of a weekend, $30 billion to bail out Bear Stearns, while their own businesses are in a tailspin.

[snip]

But the larger message of the truckers’ protest is about pride or, more humbly put, self-respect, which these men channel from their roots. Dan Little tells me, “My granddad said, and he was the smartest man I ever knew, ‘If you don’t stand up for yourself ain’t nobody gonna stand up for you.’” Go to theamericandriver.com, run by JB and his brother in Texas, where you’re greeted by a giant American flag, and you’ll find – among the driving tips, weather info, and drivers’ favorite photos –the entire Constitution and Declaration of Independence. “The last time we faced something as impacting on us,” JB tells me, “There was a revolution.”

Today, on the west coast

Cranes and forklifts stood still from Seattle to San Diego, and ships were stalled at sea as workers held rallies up and down the coast to blame the war for distracting public attention and money from domestic needs like health care and education.

“We’re loyal to America, and we won’t stand by while our country, our troops and our economy are being destroyed by a war that’s bankrupting us to the tune of $3 trillion,” the president of the International Longshore and Warehouse Union, Bob McEllrath, said in a written statement. “It’s time to stand up, and we’re doing our part today.

Truckers joined the protests by refusing to cross the picket lines.
Also today, there was supposed to be a truckers’ protest convoy in New York City, but

Mike (JB) Schaffner, of www.theamericandriver.com, today announced that New York City has effectively canceled the convoy in Manhattan scheduled for May 1, 2008.

Spokesman Mike (JB) Schaffner said he was disappointed. “We were set to perform a peaceful demonstration to point out the frustration that working class America is feeling,” he said. “First they approved us. Then they changed our permits for no more than 35 vehicles in the convoy. Now they’ve placed so many unreasonable conditions on the event that it makes it nearly impossible. We’re asking the government of the great state of New York to address this, and the reasons why our freedoms to speak and peacefully assemble are being crushed.”

Brian Osborne, owner of B L Osborne Transport, said, “they’ve effectively shut us down all together.”

The trucker convoy that went to Washington on April 28 was more successful, and writer Barbara Ehrenreich chronicles her experience joining the protest on her blog (again, worth reading in its entirety):

We are to park the trucks at the RFK Stadium and walk from there to the Capitol, giving us about a half an hour to mill around on foot in the parking lot first. There’s a bobtail with “Truckin for Jesus” painted on it and, under that, “Truckers and Citizens United.” There are Operation Desert Freedom caps and a POW/MIA flag, as well signs indicting oil companies and “Wall Street speculators.” I chat with members of the mostly African-American contingent of DC dump truck drivers and with Belinda Raymond, a trucker’s wife from Maine, who tells me that people in her area raised $9000 to send a convoy of trucks down here, with the Knights of Columbus accounting for $2500 of that. Whole families have come, and I see a boy carrying a sign saying “What about My Future?” A smartly dressed woman from New Jersey carries a sign asking, “Got Milk? Not Without a Truck.”

Let’s face it. If all truckers went on strike, the economy of this country would grind to a halt as well. Once upon a time, Americans who weren’t going to take it any more dumped a bunch of tea into Boston Harbor.
And the Revolution began.
HONK! HONK! HONK! HONK! HONK! HONK! HONK! HONK! HONK! HONK!