Other People’s Children
Rowdy jostlers—twisters, hoppers.
Shouting loudly, upsetting shoppers,
they run up aisles and spar with hangers.
Turn shopping cart races into bangers.
They bark our shins, assault our ears,
yet no one stops these mannerless dears;
for the behavior others find so irksome,
the parents merely view as quirksome.
The prompt word today was “irksome.”
At First
Days were not over half so soon
when we ate passion with a spoon.
Swirled chocolate at the Frosty Freeze
melting in the prairie breeze
hot and redolent of soil—
chaff of wheat and rattled coil.
Summer days and summer nights,
rolls in grass and water fights
with uncoiled hoses, cooking pans,
rolled up cuffs and soaked white Vans.
Passion then was not so much
a thing of kissing or of touch
as of smells and sights and taste.
Baking beans and paper paste.
Brand new tablets, pencil shavings.
Summer nights, then autumn cravings.
Cattle lowing, school bells,
Cool spring water from deep wells.
Throats that ached from drinking it,
brought to light from ancient pit.
All these simple remembered things
that thinking about passion brings:
spin-overs on the monkey bars,
rides on bikes and naming stars.
It’s true some passion rides on night
with pressing lips and gentle bite,
or trembles on the fingertips
straying over breasts or hips.
Yet simpler loves bring lesser rations
of what adults consider passions.
Words like passion must be allowed
to be unfettered, like a cloud
and not confined in connotation,
dictionary or denotation.
Sometimes passion can be bright—
A meadowlark or soaring kite.
Sun-chapped lips just touched with mist
long before they’re ever kissed.
The prompt word today was “Passionate.”
The car on the left was the one I requested. The car on the right was the one I got!!!!
When I was still trying to make it up to the Cabot trail in Nova Scotia in the black beast pictured above, I stopped at a big red barn restaurant—the only place close to the motel where I stayed for the night. The meal was not memorable and was accompanied by the agony of a girl child in the next booth who SCREAMED in a high shrill voice for at least half of the time to the accompaniment of a mother who occasionally ineffectively tried to shush her. It occurred to me that I could move, but at that point she started running up and down the length of the restaurant, piping “Ring around the rosy” in her irritatingly shrill and LOUD voice. Since I hesitated to turn to fix her with my own shaming glare, I never laid eyes on her until they finally left half way through my meal. By her behavior, I had thought she must be three or so, but was amazed to see when they finally left that she was more like five or six.
It was an incredible relief until another man came in with what looked like the same child. They blessedly sat a few booths beyond me as she seemed to possess the same voice and irritating behavior. At least, however, she stayed in her own booth—a bit further from my unappreciative ear than the last child. The meal was forgettable. The experience wasn’t. But, when I left, I at least snapped this photo which illustrates well the difference between the car I wanted and the gas-guzzling technologically puzzling beast that Hertz actually issued me. We parted company last night. Such a relief to hand it back to its rightful owners.
I was too busy this morning trying to get whiskers and rubber backstraps installed on all the masks to take many photos. Since it was raining and since I arrived first, I got soaked while pushing my umbrella handle up to remove gallons of water from the dangerously sagging roof of the canopy. Then I had 30 slightly soggy masks (from the humidity of the rain) to deal with in addition to the last rehearsal of camp songs before the dress rehearsal for parents tonight. Everyone else was equally busy running through dances and songs as well as finishing up on the necklaces and bracelets and gift boxes they made yesterday.
The kids were rowdy from the rain and one little boy who just couldn’t stop raising trouble finally got sent home when he used a very adult word. (After countless warnings.) Lunch––hamburgers and French fries–– was a great success.
Finally, at two, the kids were gone, we cleaned up the tables, with help I packed up 5 huge boxes and countess bags with art materials and I divided the “spoils” for two pinatas tomorrow–one for bigger kids and one for smaller kids. Then home to rest up for three hours before going back again for the dress rehearsal. And, wouldn’t you know it. One of my front crowns fell out!! If you can imagine me with pearly whites surrounding one black little upside down cone shaped filed tooth in the middle front of my smile–well, you’ll could see how well my day is coming along.
Trying to stick it back with dental adhesive, I chipped the back of the crown, which means a nice $450 bill. Only money, no one died, it might still stick and save me the embarrassment of looking like my hillbilly background..All’s, well, okay with the world if not exactly right.
Parents and family were invited to the dress rehearsal. The kids singing “La Llorena” along with Agustin nearly brought the house down! The girls were beautiful, the boys only slightly less rowdy than usual. Somehow, we got through the almost impossible task of herding 30 excited primadonnas through their acts. The girls bellydancing class that was an outgrowth of last year’s camp performed wonderfully and to loud applause.
(Click on first photo and then arrows to enlarge all photos.)
Then we served cookies and punch, everyone left, and because I wasn’t ready to go home, I wandered into Viva Mexico, the restaurant our camp site is the garden part of. Jere and DePaul and Rita were there, so I joined them. My tooth fell out again, so I ate soup, and after most of the other customers, save for four tables, had departed, Agustin serenaded us all. So sweet, and a woman tourist at an adjacent table was heard to remark, “I could live in this town. Imagine just living here and walking down that street to this restaurant.” We all agree, and that’s why we do.
Of course all ideallic times eventually end, and this is what I returned to. The last existing dog bed in the house, Morrie’s own, shredded beyond retrieval. Good Night!
Agustin came strolling in in the afternoon and gave the kids a little surprise. They did a few rousing rounds of Celita Lindo, which they all knew by heart, and then he taught them “La Llorona” (The Weeping Woman) which is my favorite Mexican song, even though I still mainly mouth the lyrics. The story is so touching. Sure you’ll find the music on YouTube and the story in Wikipedia and Google. A sad legend that every person in Mexico knows and that mothers use to keep their children inside at night. Here are the photos of that and other activities today:
Once again, click on first photo and then on the right side of each photo that follows to see photos full size with captions.
The camp went wonderfully today. The kids belted out the two camp songs they were a bit shy about yesterday, their masks turned into nearly completed masterpieces, our wonderful camp counselors, one of whom I discovered today is a mere sophomore in high school, were helpful and dedicated and came up with some good ideas of their own. The dance numbers are coming together and I think you’ll see by the photos below that the kids are having a wonderful time. We even had a few strollers-by, attracted by the music and laughter, come in and force money on us to help with next year’s camp. One blogger also requested that I tell where donations may be made and although my intention is not to treat my blog as a fundraiser, the friend who is handling the fundraising does have a paypal account established. Donations from the U.S. may be made via Paypal to jeredepaul@yahoo.com It is important that you send them in the friend or family category so we don’t have to pay a fee to Paypal.
If you click on the first photo and then on the right hand side of each photo that comes up, you can see all of these full-sized and read the captions.
Do they look like they are having fun? Talks on animals and visits by abused dogs that wound up with a happy ending, finding out how to care for their pets, singing songs, learning how to “twist and shout” and dance to “What’s New Pussycat,” being silly, making masks, eating burritos. All-in-all a happy and full day. Now for day two!
(Click on first photo to see enlarged gallery of photos.)
Their performance that celebrates the end of camp will be at Viva Mexico at 3 o’clock, Saturday, July 30.Please call 387 761-1058 for dinner reservations if you wish to attend that performance. A hat will be passed to help fund next year’s camp, at which time we hope to include a second week of camp in El Chante.
The intent of the prompt is to publish a photo of something that tops off an experience and makes it special. It doesn’t have to specifically be a cherry.
jdbphoto
These little guys were definitely the icing on the cake when they arrived to visit a few days after I celebrated my birthday in Sheridan, Wyoming. They came to visit their grandmother, one of my best and oldest friends, but because I live in Mexico and they don’t live in the town where I visit her and my sister most years, I’d never met them before. They came running in and said, “Our dad says you are his godmother. Does that mean you are our great godmother?” I said, “No, that makes me your ‘fairly’ godmother.” And it went on from there. They are adorable and smart as you can probably see from this photo. The one on the right was getting a buzz haircut from his dad when his dad decided it looked cool to leave a little ducktail in front, and I think he was right. It is adorable. At one point, the last day they were in Sheridan, we all went to the Holiday Inn for breakfast. There was a wishing pool and after the boys threw in their money, Ducktail came and reported he’d gotten his wish. He told us what it was and I said, “Well, that was my wish, too!” He looked at me quizzically and said, “Oh, did you wish that you were younger?” Ha. Think he missed the part about our wishes being the same.
This is what the icing on my birthday cake looked like:
The photo that is here rendered in frosting was of me blowing out the candles on my birthday cake at age three. jdbphoto
And here it is three days later. Yech! Glad I have aged a bit better. The cake has fewer wrinkles but at least I haven’t turned green and broken out in boils!! jdbphoto
https://dailypost.wordpress.com/photo-challenges/cherry-on-top/
God’s Assembly Place
Leaving the Masons’ Lodge behind,
there was Mrs. Shimer’s cool dark little house
and the grade school slides to pass,
then spirea bushes to pull the petals from
before I reached the mysterious brick church
nestled in trees across from the lumber yard.
The sign said “Assembly of God.”
Everyone else said, “holy rollers and speakers in tongues,”
but they threw the best Bible school of the summer.
My mom let me attend them all: Lutheran,
Community Bible, Seven Day Adventist, Assembly of God
and our own Church––Methodist.
The Community Bible Church called us Jet Cadets
who made progress through the skies
by attendance and memorizing Bible verses.
The Methodists had the best art supplies,
but the Assembly of God
had that aura of mystery–
as though God had assembled us all there for a special purpose.
Because I had heard what went on there
when I wasn’t present,
I was the Nancy Drew of vacation Bible school,
looking fruitlessly for clues
as I made do with Kool Aid,
peanut butter cookies and
mimeographed pictures of Bible stories to color.
Then every day, the short walk home again
through that bridal path of spilled spirea blossoms,
with faith that tomorrow
religion just might turn into that great adventure
that I knew I was born to.
Thanks Whimsygizmo for leading me to this prompt with your wonderful poem. Readers, if you want to participate in the Writer’s Digest prompts, find them here:
Poetic Asides
“Ring Around the Rosie” for my sister’s birthday & a backyard production of “Cowboys.”
At Play
“Annie I Over,” ” New Orleans.”
In shorts or dresses or cutoff jeans,
we ran and threw and played and shouted.
our pent-up energy thus outed.
“Send ‘Em,” “Ditch ‘Em,” “Cops and Robbers.”
“Poor Pussy” turned us into sobbers.
Do you remember these childhood games?
All vastly varied, with different names?
Before TV or internet,
games were as good as one could get
for transport from reality.
Back when we were cellphone-free,
“Drop the Handkerchief” we knew well
along with “Farmer in the Dell.”
“London Bridge” went falling down
each birthday party in our town.
All the long-lit summer nights
“Cowboys and Indians” staged their fights.
“Cops and Robbers” led to searches
of school ditches and behind churches.
The whole town our playing ground,
each chid lost, each child found
in hours long games of “Hide-and-Seek.”
Count to one hundred. Do not peek!
In childhood games of girls and boys,
imaginations were our toys.
Does such magic now reside
in minds of children safe inside
their cushioned worlds of rumpus rooms,
sealed safe within their houses’ wombs?
For dangers real now lurk in places
that formerly hid playmates’ faces.
Safety dictates different measures
for insuring childhood pleasures.
But oh, I remember so well
joyful flight and heartful swell
of friends pursuing through the dark
back then when life was such a lark.
Now children seek play differently
on cellphone screens and Smart TV,
scarce imagining a world
with internet not yet unfurled.
Our world had not yet been corrupted
with connections interrupted
with wireless servers on the blink,
for we needed no further link
than friends pounding upon our door
to come outside and play some more!
Stylish cowboys Karen Bossart and sister Patti.
lifelessons - a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown 