first, a tidbit for those of you who have been following my road-rants regarding my dangerous trek to work and back )see: july 16 and july 18, for some examples). day before-yesterday, as i was driving home from work (yes, DOWN THE BLOODY MOUNTAIN), my !@#$ BRAKES WENT OUT. yes, lovely. one more nail in the coffin, folks.
in COMPLETELY* unrelated news, i am a subscriber to a lovely service called "the writer's almanac" (thanks, gene!). among other things, they send you a poem a day, and usually you can actually hear it read. it's nice. garrison keillor is a neat guy. here is a poem that i found very... satisfying.
Watch Me Swing
I was the fifth man hired
for the city welfare cleaning crew
at the old Paterson Street ballpark,
Class A minor leagues.
Opening Day was over,
and we raked the wooden benches
for the droppings of the crowd:
wrappers, spilled cups, scorecards,
popcorn cartons, chewed and spat hot dogs,
a whiskey bottle, a condom dried on newspaper.
We swung our brooms,
pausing to watch home runs sail
through April imagination
over the stone fence three hundred feet away,
baseball cracking off the paint factory sign
across Washington Street.
We shuffled and kicked,
plowed and pushed
through the clinging garbage,
savoring our minimum wages.
When the sweeping was done,
and the grandstand benches
clean as Sunday morning pews,
the team business manager
inspected the aisles,
reviewed the cleaning crew
standing like broomstick cadets
and said:
We only need four.
I was the fifth man hired.
As the business manager
strode across the outfield
back to his office,
I wanted to leap the railing,
crouch at home plate
and swing my broom,
aiming a smacked baseball
for the back of his head,
yelling watch me swing, boss,
watch me swing.
-Martin Espada
watch me swing, folks!
xoxox
-samboLEEEENa!
*really. it has NOTHING to do with my current life-dissatisfaction. nothing in the least. not at all.
Thursday, August 07, 2003
Wednesday, August 06, 2003
and the winner is....
SALLIE CORLEY!
now sallie, let us tell you what you've won!
sallie is my new ASSISTANT! yeah! she started work today - YAY, ME! she will be working here part-time, 20 hours a week, and i am so excited. not only do i have some PAID help now (my poor volunteers have busted heiney unpaid for THREE YEARS - and sallie was one of them), but i like her. she is smart and funny and bright and entertaining, hard-working, clean, thrifty and brave... :) she really is creative and a little bit wild, she's a fantastic cook*, she has an artistic spirit, she's funky and fun. not to mention veryvery pretty (ask stewart. :) and veryvery cool. yeah, we like sallie.
it makes me feel good that i have earned some help, that our branch is "grown-up" enough to merit another employee.
these are good signs. things are looking up!
congratulations, sallie - and congratulations to me AND the library. YAY, US!
hip hip, HUZZAH!
hip hip, HUZZAH!
hip hip, HUZZAH!
welcome on board, sallie-lou thelma-jean bobbie-earl! :D
-s (THE BIG BAD BOSS LADY!)
* i swear, that had absolutely NOTHING to do with my desire to have her here! ;) it really wasn't the lemon squares. honest... by the way sallie... when will you be making some more?
SALLIE CORLEY!
now sallie, let us tell you what you've won!
sallie is my new ASSISTANT! yeah! she started work today - YAY, ME! she will be working here part-time, 20 hours a week, and i am so excited. not only do i have some PAID help now (my poor volunteers have busted heiney unpaid for THREE YEARS - and sallie was one of them), but i like her. she is smart and funny and bright and entertaining, hard-working, clean, thrifty and brave... :) she really is creative and a little bit wild, she's a fantastic cook*, she has an artistic spirit, she's funky and fun. not to mention veryvery pretty (ask stewart. :) and veryvery cool. yeah, we like sallie.
it makes me feel good that i have earned some help, that our branch is "grown-up" enough to merit another employee.
these are good signs. things are looking up!
congratulations, sallie - and congratulations to me AND the library. YAY, US!
hip hip, HUZZAH!
hip hip, HUZZAH!
hip hip, HUZZAH!
welcome on board, sallie-lou thelma-jean bobbie-earl! :D
-s (THE BIG BAD BOSS LADY!)
* i swear, that had absolutely NOTHING to do with my desire to have her here! ;) it really wasn't the lemon squares. honest... by the way sallie... when will you be making some more?
Tuesday, August 05, 2003
My Aunt Sue helped a lot in raising me. She’s kinda’ my “wire monkey mama”. She had her limitations as far as how much she could do for us, but she did as much as she could within those limitations. All the things she did were very special, and went a long way toward making me who I am today. One of her major efforts was to familiarize us with different arts. Some days were painting and drawing days, some days were for crafts, others were opera, ballet, or poetry. Some days we had them all. She also made sure that I understood how special it was to be a girl, how satisfying it was to do good work, and to be thankful to be alive and blessed with my unique and amazing self.
Aunt Sue had someone like that to help her grow up, see the beauty of the outside world, and teach her good things, too. I was lucky enough to know him and be loved by him as well (he passed away when I was 19). Our “Papaw” Joe (he was “Giuseppe deCarmelo Bartelomi*, until Ellis Island) made a big impression on many of us. When I converted to Catholicism at age 15, Papaw Joe became my Godfather. I know that Aunt Sue (and most of the other Aunts) as well as my brother Joe (guess who he was named after) remember him with much love, appreciation and admiration. He was not related to us - he was from Sicily, and his accent was a challenge to some folks until the day he died. Just a few weeks ago, I found out a lot more about how he came into our family (when Sue was a little girl), and it seems very much as if he was dropped into our lives like a guardian angel. He bought land and built a house with his own hands for my grandparents and their children to live in all of their lives. I can’t imagine what things would have been like without him. He gave us faith, new ideas, a broader perspective, warmth, concern, love, and hope for peace in our own lives. Sue recently wrote this lovely “portrait” of Papaw Joe, and she said that I could share it. I’m also happy to share the art of someone so dear and special to me, someone who has shared her art with me all of her life.
“THE WESTWARD PORCH
A Portrait of Joseph Barton
By Sue Kittrell 7/15/03**
He sits there in a padded lawn chair as the sun lowers in the horizon, a small bronze man of Italian origin. His work worn and skilled hands now holding a Mary Knoll magazine obtained through Sacred Heart Catholic Church. He shares it with me and I read St. Paul’s words “in him we live and move and have our being” which is accompanied by a picture of Chinese street dancers.
His culture and intelligence are rich, his imagination and ability far beyond that of the average man. I didn’t know it, but there was a deep affection and love that has only grown over the years, like the beautiful flowers that he grew. I was especially fond of the roses on the arbor he built that arched the front gateway, and the hollyhocks that bloomed in the backyard.
He had a taste for fine things like beautiful cooking utensils for he was an excellent cook, but never usurped the kitchen from Mama. He never drank iced tea sweetened or otherwise; instead he drank iced coffee, and sometimes when it was available, he would have a little wine.
It seems that he knew exactly what would please children as well as others. I know I was always grateful for the flannel-lined jeans and the corduroy shirts and jackets, but especially his Army jacket he gave to me that was the envy of many others of my age.
I am so appreciative that he was a part of our lives, and I hug his memory close, remembering what he said. “When you dream of the dead, say a prayer for them.” So now in my daydreams of him, I say “Thanks Joe, for making our lives good, our memories sweet, and for the desire to pass on those qualities you gave so freely of yourself.
I shall always love you.” -SK-
And I feel the same, about my Sue and my Joes. I hope you all have someone in your life like this.
Much love,
-SL-
*His brothers were Salvatore, Giovanni, Rosario and Tiner(sp?). and his sister was Celeste (seh-LEH-tay) Josephina – my own mother is named Celeste Josephine.
**written on my dad’s birthday.
Aunt Sue had someone like that to help her grow up, see the beauty of the outside world, and teach her good things, too. I was lucky enough to know him and be loved by him as well (he passed away when I was 19). Our “Papaw” Joe (he was “Giuseppe deCarmelo Bartelomi*, until Ellis Island) made a big impression on many of us. When I converted to Catholicism at age 15, Papaw Joe became my Godfather. I know that Aunt Sue (and most of the other Aunts) as well as my brother Joe (guess who he was named after) remember him with much love, appreciation and admiration. He was not related to us - he was from Sicily, and his accent was a challenge to some folks until the day he died. Just a few weeks ago, I found out a lot more about how he came into our family (when Sue was a little girl), and it seems very much as if he was dropped into our lives like a guardian angel. He bought land and built a house with his own hands for my grandparents and their children to live in all of their lives. I can’t imagine what things would have been like without him. He gave us faith, new ideas, a broader perspective, warmth, concern, love, and hope for peace in our own lives. Sue recently wrote this lovely “portrait” of Papaw Joe, and she said that I could share it. I’m also happy to share the art of someone so dear and special to me, someone who has shared her art with me all of her life.
“THE WESTWARD PORCH
A Portrait of Joseph Barton
By Sue Kittrell 7/15/03**
He sits there in a padded lawn chair as the sun lowers in the horizon, a small bronze man of Italian origin. His work worn and skilled hands now holding a Mary Knoll magazine obtained through Sacred Heart Catholic Church. He shares it with me and I read St. Paul’s words “in him we live and move and have our being” which is accompanied by a picture of Chinese street dancers.
His culture and intelligence are rich, his imagination and ability far beyond that of the average man. I didn’t know it, but there was a deep affection and love that has only grown over the years, like the beautiful flowers that he grew. I was especially fond of the roses on the arbor he built that arched the front gateway, and the hollyhocks that bloomed in the backyard.
He had a taste for fine things like beautiful cooking utensils for he was an excellent cook, but never usurped the kitchen from Mama. He never drank iced tea sweetened or otherwise; instead he drank iced coffee, and sometimes when it was available, he would have a little wine.
It seems that he knew exactly what would please children as well as others. I know I was always grateful for the flannel-lined jeans and the corduroy shirts and jackets, but especially his Army jacket he gave to me that was the envy of many others of my age.
I am so appreciative that he was a part of our lives, and I hug his memory close, remembering what he said. “When you dream of the dead, say a prayer for them.” So now in my daydreams of him, I say “Thanks Joe, for making our lives good, our memories sweet, and for the desire to pass on those qualities you gave so freely of yourself.
I shall always love you.” -SK-
And I feel the same, about my Sue and my Joes. I hope you all have someone in your life like this.
Much love,
-SL-
*His brothers were Salvatore, Giovanni, Rosario and Tiner(sp?). and his sister was Celeste (seh-LEH-tay) Josephina – my own mother is named Celeste Josephine.
**written on my dad’s birthday.
Saturday, August 02, 2003
“NEWSFLASH! Worlds’ Biggest Five-Year-Old* Turns 35 (in human years) In 18 Days!!!”
eesh. I am wondering if I will just wake up, see the sun and turn to !@#$ dust! I mean, who EVER thinks they’ll be THIRTY-FIVE one day. Five years from (EEEEEEEEE!) FORTY. I mean, ME. OLD. whoa.
I’m glad I’m here (in the world) and all, no doubt about it, but this whole getting old thing is a bit intimidating. It’s also sort of compulsive, in ways that you don’t think about. Yes, you must get older, but does one really have to say things like “YOU KIDS ARE MAKIN’ ME CRAZY!” and “When I was your age/when WE were kids… [fill in blank with anything that you ALLEGEDLY did not do that kids THESE days are doing that is annoying and/or rude or with generic thing that was better in the 70’s**…]!”? It happens, and you don’t even see it coming!
30 didn’t bother me. In fact, it was nice. It felt like a good transition – a milestone. 35 just feels like a STONE. In actuality, I don’t feel much different on the outside. But inside my little rattly-coconut-head, I am starting to have some serious “sand-running-out” thoughts. I’ve had several nights of panic about whether I will ever see any more of the world, whether I will be able to learn even a small fraction of what I want to, whether I will ever be all that I can be AND find time to properly stalk Vin… see? It’s a quandary.
I think the only way to cope – for the time being – is to plan small, keep myself occupied, be myself... I am having (hopefully) two birthday celebrations. One will be going fishing and having a cookout with the extended Geek/Rennie family, maybe on the 24th; and then having a Gigantor Blowout Good Time at Dragoncon with the Geek Patrol (TOBIE’S FIRST CON!!! YAY!! MY first Dragoncon -my first ANY ‘con in 14 or so years- as a fan… ee.)
There are also some BIG plans in the works. I am thinking about Serious Grown-up Stuff for the first time in my life. These are plans for things that will make a BIG difference in the long-run… but more about that, later.
Speaking of the long-run, what’s really keeping me going lately is a thought that’s become a sort of mantra for me:
”Sam-‘n-a-beach…Sam-‘n-a-beach…Sam-‘n-a-beach…”
‘has a nice ring to it, dunnit? : )
Tide pools, lounge chairs, happy-frisbee-dogs and portable work to you all,
-sam
*other than Bjork***, of course. But I think I really can claim the title, because I am definitely bigger than she is.
**these things are sadly rare. They include cartoons, candy, violence in schools, and behavior in libraries
***THE Queen Mum, Mother Ship of the Universal Order of Bink - in case you didn't know.
eesh. I am wondering if I will just wake up, see the sun and turn to !@#$ dust! I mean, who EVER thinks they’ll be THIRTY-FIVE one day. Five years from (EEEEEEEEE!) FORTY. I mean, ME. OLD. whoa.
I’m glad I’m here (in the world) and all, no doubt about it, but this whole getting old thing is a bit intimidating. It’s also sort of compulsive, in ways that you don’t think about. Yes, you must get older, but does one really have to say things like “YOU KIDS ARE MAKIN’ ME CRAZY!” and “When I was your age/when WE were kids… [fill in blank with anything that you ALLEGEDLY did not do that kids THESE days are doing that is annoying and/or rude or with generic thing that was better in the 70’s**…]!”? It happens, and you don’t even see it coming!
30 didn’t bother me. In fact, it was nice. It felt like a good transition – a milestone. 35 just feels like a STONE. In actuality, I don’t feel much different on the outside. But inside my little rattly-coconut-head, I am starting to have some serious “sand-running-out” thoughts. I’ve had several nights of panic about whether I will ever see any more of the world, whether I will be able to learn even a small fraction of what I want to, whether I will ever be all that I can be AND find time to properly stalk Vin… see? It’s a quandary.
I think the only way to cope – for the time being – is to plan small, keep myself occupied, be myself... I am having (hopefully) two birthday celebrations. One will be going fishing and having a cookout with the extended Geek/Rennie family, maybe on the 24th; and then having a Gigantor Blowout Good Time at Dragoncon with the Geek Patrol (TOBIE’S FIRST CON!!! YAY!! MY first Dragoncon -my first ANY ‘con in 14 or so years- as a fan… ee.)
There are also some BIG plans in the works. I am thinking about Serious Grown-up Stuff for the first time in my life. These are plans for things that will make a BIG difference in the long-run… but more about that, later.
Speaking of the long-run, what’s really keeping me going lately is a thought that’s become a sort of mantra for me:
”Sam-‘n-a-beach…Sam-‘n-a-beach…Sam-‘n-a-beach…”
‘has a nice ring to it, dunnit? : )
Tide pools, lounge chairs, happy-frisbee-dogs and portable work to you all,
-sam
*other than Bjork***, of course. But I think I really can claim the title, because I am definitely bigger than she is.
**these things are sadly rare. They include cartoons, candy, violence in schools, and behavior in libraries
***THE Queen Mum, Mother Ship of the Universal Order of Bink - in case you didn't know.
Friday, August 01, 2003
I realized that, as soon as I’d made up my mind to getthe!@#$outtahere, I could see the beauty of this place with less pain and frustration. Maybe that’s how we should all try to be, all the time, about everything - but it seems very true that “you don’t know what you ‘got ‘till it’s gone…” I need to explore this aspect of my psyche more. Maybe it’s natural, maybe it’s zen, maybe it’s just me… I will write more as I figure it out.
One of my family members - one that I love dearly, one that I know loves me, but who is nonetheless sometimes a VERY negative person – asked me the other night “Sam, when did you fall out of love with the mountains? You were SO ready to go there.” I thought for a moment, and said with utter truth – “I never fell in love with them. I just needed to make a decision quickly so i could get away from there.” I've always thought this was one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever seen or been. The weather here is wonderful ¾ of the year, and there is an abundance of amazing creativity here. But it’s beauty is dangerous and oppressive, the ¼ of the year that the weather is bad, it is unbearably miserable (and dangerous), and the creativity is in a lot of cases jealously guarded, meagerly shared, narrow in it’s perspective, and controversial outside of the expected “norm”. I’d truly hoped that I might fall in love with the mountains, but I know that I will never cease to be an outsider and oddball here, and I will never acclimate to the terrain and the winters.
I have met some people here that I don’t ever want to lose contact with. I have learned a lot, and I have enjoyed some lovely days and nights here. But there’s always been a sharp edge. I’m willing to accept the fact that I may always be near the edge, no matter where I go, but frankly, I am tired of doing it alone. I’ve been so frustrated about the pressure of feeling so unprotected and so singular. Society’s answer is “GET A MAN!”, but that is DEFINITELY not my answer. I’ve even had some people tell me that if I didn’t get a man and have some kids, then I would be alone forever and there would be no one to take care of me when I get old. Who wants to live in a world where that’s even an acceptable consideration? What kind of reason is THAT for commitment and children? I would throw in the towel before I would ever accept a life like that. Ever. If I ever fall in love again, it will be for love's sake and nothing more. It will be obvious, instantaneous, passionate and undeniably real. It will certainly not be based on any kind of practical, so-called "reality" or necessity. Nothing less will do. I would rather be alone forever than settle for anything less than my ideal. I'll settle on a car, a book to read, something for dinner, a place to buy gas, a movie to watch, even a house and a job, but not a partner. You can write that in your family bible.
I have been torn for years now between the need for safety and some protection, for the company of someone that I could truly trust and lean on a little in the very worst of times, and between my fierce need for independence and freedom. Not to mention the fact that, in my way, I am desperately private and selective. I have some good, dear friends here, but none that I can trust the way I need to, or would be able to lean on if things got truly bad. Not to say that my friends here wouldn’t help me with anything – they would, and they have come through in some dire straits. But as bad as those times seemed to them, and even to me, they were not the worst of times, and luckily (for me) they didn’t exceed my limits of what I could ask of friends. But if I got sick, was badly injured, or if things hit true rock bottom, financially, mentally, emotionally… I would be unable to go to them, and they would be unable to understand.
As it is, there are only five people in the world that know me well enough to understand all of this. One of them is barely able to take care himself, one of them has a life-full of her own responsibilities (but I know that if I really needed her, she would be there), one has his own life, and has become distant from me, out of a combination of necessity and Brownian motion in the last ten years (but I also feel that if I truly needed him, he would not hesitate to come to my aid). The other two are there for me, and it's just up to me to be wise, accept their help as much as I can without taking advantage, be sure that I make their trust and effort worthwhile, and thank the Goddess that I have this many people that I can feel close to.
I guess I really am a delicate tropical hothouse flower. I need to be in a place that gets more sun, less winter, I need gardeners that are familiar with my species, and I need to be around other flowers like me, so that I can propagate.
Propagate: prop·a·gate [pr?pp e gàyt]
1. vti BIOLOGY reproduce organism: to reproduce a plant or animal or, cause one to reproduce
2. vti GARDENING create new plants: to multiply plants by the use of seeds or cuttings
3. vt spread something widely: to spread ideas or customs to many people
4. vti PHYSICS impel something forward: to move or transmit something forward in space, especially as a light or sound wave
[Late 16th century. From Latin propagare “to breed plants in layers (of vines),” from, ultimately, propago “layer,” literally “planting out,” from an assumed base meaning “to plant.”]
clinging to the rocks for the time being (and praying for some mulch),
-Floribunda Samiosa*
*this sounds like a Hogwarts' style curse, dunnit? like it would make one suddenly sprout big funny looking, sparkly, hallucinogenic and very aggressive flowers. :)
One of my family members - one that I love dearly, one that I know loves me, but who is nonetheless sometimes a VERY negative person – asked me the other night “Sam, when did you fall out of love with the mountains? You were SO ready to go there.” I thought for a moment, and said with utter truth – “I never fell in love with them. I just needed to make a decision quickly so i could get away from there.” I've always thought this was one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever seen or been. The weather here is wonderful ¾ of the year, and there is an abundance of amazing creativity here. But it’s beauty is dangerous and oppressive, the ¼ of the year that the weather is bad, it is unbearably miserable (and dangerous), and the creativity is in a lot of cases jealously guarded, meagerly shared, narrow in it’s perspective, and controversial outside of the expected “norm”. I’d truly hoped that I might fall in love with the mountains, but I know that I will never cease to be an outsider and oddball here, and I will never acclimate to the terrain and the winters.
I have met some people here that I don’t ever want to lose contact with. I have learned a lot, and I have enjoyed some lovely days and nights here. But there’s always been a sharp edge. I’m willing to accept the fact that I may always be near the edge, no matter where I go, but frankly, I am tired of doing it alone. I’ve been so frustrated about the pressure of feeling so unprotected and so singular. Society’s answer is “GET A MAN!”, but that is DEFINITELY not my answer. I’ve even had some people tell me that if I didn’t get a man and have some kids, then I would be alone forever and there would be no one to take care of me when I get old. Who wants to live in a world where that’s even an acceptable consideration? What kind of reason is THAT for commitment and children? I would throw in the towel before I would ever accept a life like that. Ever. If I ever fall in love again, it will be for love's sake and nothing more. It will be obvious, instantaneous, passionate and undeniably real. It will certainly not be based on any kind of practical, so-called "reality" or necessity. Nothing less will do. I would rather be alone forever than settle for anything less than my ideal. I'll settle on a car, a book to read, something for dinner, a place to buy gas, a movie to watch, even a house and a job, but not a partner. You can write that in your family bible.
I have been torn for years now between the need for safety and some protection, for the company of someone that I could truly trust and lean on a little in the very worst of times, and between my fierce need for independence and freedom. Not to mention the fact that, in my way, I am desperately private and selective. I have some good, dear friends here, but none that I can trust the way I need to, or would be able to lean on if things got truly bad. Not to say that my friends here wouldn’t help me with anything – they would, and they have come through in some dire straits. But as bad as those times seemed to them, and even to me, they were not the worst of times, and luckily (for me) they didn’t exceed my limits of what I could ask of friends. But if I got sick, was badly injured, or if things hit true rock bottom, financially, mentally, emotionally… I would be unable to go to them, and they would be unable to understand.
As it is, there are only five people in the world that know me well enough to understand all of this. One of them is barely able to take care himself, one of them has a life-full of her own responsibilities (but I know that if I really needed her, she would be there), one has his own life, and has become distant from me, out of a combination of necessity and Brownian motion in the last ten years (but I also feel that if I truly needed him, he would not hesitate to come to my aid). The other two are there for me, and it's just up to me to be wise, accept their help as much as I can without taking advantage, be sure that I make their trust and effort worthwhile, and thank the Goddess that I have this many people that I can feel close to.
I guess I really am a delicate tropical hothouse flower. I need to be in a place that gets more sun, less winter, I need gardeners that are familiar with my species, and I need to be around other flowers like me, so that I can propagate.
Propagate: prop·a·gate [pr?pp e gàyt]
1. vti BIOLOGY reproduce organism: to reproduce a plant or animal or, cause one to reproduce
2. vti GARDENING create new plants: to multiply plants by the use of seeds or cuttings
3. vt spread something widely: to spread ideas or customs to many people
4. vti PHYSICS impel something forward: to move or transmit something forward in space, especially as a light or sound wave
[Late 16th century. From Latin propagare “to breed plants in layers (of vines),” from, ultimately, propago “layer,” literally “planting out,” from an assumed base meaning “to plant.”]
clinging to the rocks for the time being (and praying for some mulch),
-Floribunda Samiosa*
*this sounds like a Hogwarts' style curse, dunnit? like it would make one suddenly sprout big funny looking, sparkly, hallucinogenic and very aggressive flowers. :)
