Past the edge of the park and back

Edge of the Park

Edge of the Park

For the past three years, we would visit Centennial Park in Englewood, Ohio for our afternoon walk. If you look at the satellite map (posted below if you want a quick look) and follow the light green line, that is usually our walking path.

To the right are some corn fields and soybean fields; to the left baseball diamond where we have to check out the dugouts every day.

Until a few weeks ago, we had not ventured past the midway point of that first group of trees. Looking ahead, there was just more grass. Besides, the dogs had lots of room to wrestle each other, far away from the reach of anyone wandering by.

But then we ventured just a little bit further from the edge of our world — where the tree line broke — and saw the photo you see to your right.

Wow!

Blue sky, a babbling book, an oasis in the middle of farmland.

We should have ventured further sooner.

This blog post is part of a blog-off series with a group of bloggers from different professions and world views, each exploring a theme from his/her world view. This was about exploring the theme, the edge of your world. To explore how others handled the theme, check them out below. I will add links as they publish.

Weeds

Dandelion

Dandelion

Take a good look at the photo to the right. What do you see?

Most of us see a dandelion, a vile weed that should be ripped up, poisoned and killed, stomped out and cursed at.

And I did too until just the other day when it occurred to me that I have been looking at dandelions all wrong for a very, very long time.

A dandelion is a fantastic example of nature that refuses to die gracefully, constantly adapting itself to insure its survival in spite of being poisoned with pesticides and maliciously hacked up. We pull the flower, we dig the root and still, year after year, dandelions find a way to reproduce and procreate quickly in abundance. When we dig, they burrow deeper; when we pluck, they seed discreetly. When we poison, they grow resistant.

And when they grow ripe for spreading, their yellow flowers form irresistible wispy orbs that entice children and adults alike to pluck the stem and blow the seeds back into the lawn where they take hold and produce more enduring plants. Before we realize what we have done, the seeds have scattered, destined to take root the next season without fail.

This blog post is part of a blog-off series with a group of bloggers from different professions and world views, each exploring a theme from his/her world view. This was about exploring the theme, Flowers. To explore how others handled the theme, check them out below. I will add links as they publish.

A Carpenter ear worm

morning-star

This weekend’s ear worm is Karen Carpenter’s version of Rainbow Connection, specifically this verse:

Who said that wishes would be heard and answered when wished on the morning star?
Somebody thought of that and someone believed it, and look what it’s done so far.

Someone was first with the idea that if he wished on a star and believed, that his wish would come true. He created this idea from two disparate objects — a wish and a star — out of nothing other than his imagination. At some point, he shared his fragile idea with someone else. And that someone else had a choice to either embrace it as a fantastic idea and fan it… or belittle it, ridicule it and kill it.

In that ever brief moment, the spark of a creative idea took hold. It was fanned with nothing more than a human belief that could not be verified. No ROI was produced, no matrices were created to measure against; just a spark of human thought against the wonder of the world that surrounded the thinker.

While frantically running errands on Thursday afternoon before our industrialized world decided that it would shut down at 5:00pm, I caught the middle of a discussion on NPR where a guest was talking about how music and arts are being systematically removed from school curriculum in favor of more STEM classes to comply with No Child Left Behind and Race to the Top. (I can’t find the program; npr.org stinks as a curation site.) What we are doing is creating generations of human beings who do not value art or music.

What we are losing is the ability to create, recognize and fan the spark of creativity.

I’m going out right now to wish really hard on a star. Join me.

Enjoy the video.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PYuE2roIkH0

PS Just as he starts to play the piano, watch Richard smile slightly. I’ll bet someone said something like, “You can’t perform a hit song on a toy piano!” How many times have creative people heard something couldn’t (or shouldn’t) be done. How many times a day do you hear it?

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This blog post is part of a blog-off series with a group of bloggers from different professions and world views, each exploring a theme from his/her world view. This was about exploring the theme, That song stuck in your head To explore how others handled the theme, check them out below. I will add links as they publish.

Je ne parle pas français

I’ve only met my maternal grandmother twice in my life. The second time was when we visited them in Maine for their fiftieth wedding anniversary. She died two days later. My grandfather died less than a year after that.

This is the story of the first time I met her. Her name was Leda Boutot Pelletier.

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Turning my back on time

Turn Back Time

Turn Back Time

If I could turn back time, I would turn it back before last Monday when I suggested to my editor that he float the theme “If you could turn back time” to the Lets BlogOff editorial staff.

When I first starting writing this blog seven years or so ago, nobody cared what I had to say. As I kept writing, I picked up readers. Part of the problem with writing in an autobiographical style where I am the protagonist is some parts start straying a bit from the absolute truth to an amalgamation of the truth to something that starts becoming story. As Virginia Woolf said in A Room of One’s Own

Lies will flow from my lips, but there may perhaps be some truth mixed up with them; it is for you to seek out this truth and to decide whether any part of it is worth keeping.

If Virginia Woolf thought it ok to make stuff up for the sake of a story, who am I to argue? Nonetheless, I find I can’t really write to the theme as I would have to fly too close to the sun for the story to flow. It would only lead to an endless game of regret and what-if. My life moves in one direction — forward.

Hence, (yeah, I said hence) my post is this short: I wish I could turn back time to before last Monday.

For no particular reason, in no particular order, my two favorite turn back time-themed songs of my youth.

Tanya Tucker-What’s your mama’s name

George Jones and Tammy Wynette- Golden Ring (Embedding disabled, but worth the click.

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This blog post is part of a blog-off series with a group of bloggers from different professions and world views, each exploring a theme from his/her world view. This was about exploring the theme, If you could turn back time? To explore how others handled the theme, check them out below. I will add links as they publish.

Anxious or excited?

Charlie and Sallie at the vet

Yesterday, I took both Charlie and Sallie to the vet for some routine check up stuff, including getting their license, a shot each and heart worm testing. Charlie is the German Shepherd and Sallie is the lab mix. While they are two large dogs (75 and 110 pounds) they are generally easy to handle together — except when they go to the vet.

Sallie gets all excited about meeting new people and exploring new rooms she has never been in. She sees the visit to the vet as an opportunity to expand her world and maybe get a new treat, make a new friend, etc. Her ears dance and she quite literally smiles.

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I became an artist because I hate math

CMYK

During my stint at the Dayton Daily News, I used to do career day at local schools. I think everyone at the paper just wanted a day off from me which is why they always nominated me to go. That’s ok; give me an open mic and a stage and I’m all over it!

So I showed up at a Dayton elementary school to speak to a classroom full of fourth-graders. There was the usual collection of policemen with their uniforms and shiny badges and fireman in hats — with firetrucks parked out in front for the kids to climb on later — lined up ready to speak.

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Essential Thanksgiving food

Thanksgiving is an opportunity to make a meal from scratch. I do every year, with the exception of one item on the table.

Ocean Spray jellied cranberry sauce. From a can.

I know, I know. I’ve tried making every cranberry relish recipe you can dream or look up and it remains uneaten. Even the dogs wouldn’t eat it (not really. Never feed your dog dark fruit, seeds or dark turkey meat.)

So, every year, without fail, I buy two cans of Ocean Spray jellied cranberry sauce.

Here’s the recipe:

1) Buy two cans Ocean Spray jellied cranberry sauce
2) Punch a hole in the bottom end of the can.
3) Use a can opener to remove the lid.
4) Shake hard once over a serving plate. Listen for the slurp and plop noises.
5) Cut into slices.

Easy-peazy.

This blog post is part of a blog-off series with a group of bloggers from different professions and world views, each exploring a theme from his/her world view. This was about exploring the theme, It’s Thanksgiving, so let’s blog about food To explore how others handled the theme, check them out below. I will add links as they publish.