I agree with Claude

quote below is a bit vulgar...

I am treating myself to some short story reading before sleep most evenings, so I have been reading through The Best American Short Stories 2003 and found myself hoping to get to the end of Edwidge Danticat's Night Talker before sleep arrived and then the book would flop out of my hands, thus waking me up.

A side character named Claude returned for the final scene, and when someone expressed the words "I am sorry" to him because of having lived through a terrible event, he responded with these words ...

"Even with everything I have done, with everything that has happened to me, I am the luckiest fucker on the goddamned planet. Someone, somewhere, must be looking out for my ass."

I feel this way. I am blessed. Maybe all who have hit rock bottom feel this way. We know it can happen again and everyday we experience outside of that hell makes us grateful like Claude.

Anyway, as I go into my past, you may feel sorrow at times, maybe not, but remember this, I am one lucky bastard to have a life, that in the midst of it all contains my four favorite words: peace, hope, joy, and love.

who knows? -- 2

Is stoicism passed by genes or environment? doesn't matter, for it was passed onto me at an early age.

My motto for decades became, not "Just do it," but instead "just deal with it." I really couldn't get why people were troubled by bad things they had to face. Of course I wasn't facing much of anything, but that was despite the point.

I can imagine a small boy hiding, crying, running away, throwing tantrums... anything to get out of going to the doctor. and maybe I did. but I don't remember doing any of those things. I think that I just grinned and bared it. When I began to face my past, I looked up stoic in a dictionary and stared at myself. One of the wise folk, who led me to healing, told me, "It saved you. It was your strategy to get through it, but you might want to think of other options now that you are in your late 30's."

Then their is the stoic love that my parents gave me. OK, so they were not programmed to do much hugging or saying the words, I Love You, however, one can show love through actions. Within a clean house containing no violence... praising my successes, taking me to grandmothers who made me quilts and strudel, planting seeds of faith, taking me to his work place where I saw my dad in a new light (come to my classroom and see me in a different light), playing basketball and ping pong with me, feeding me real mashed potatoes and homemade apple pie, taking me to cool places (all those Phillies games as a child has led to a man who was just so happy when that double play ended the game yesterday!!!!!) and what about those vacations including the epic drive to see the Rockies, Yellowstone, Badlands...

And then there was the gift of a second chance when I crashed and burned. Then giving me a rare hug when that second chance led to success.

I know my dad held my hand while the urologist did his thing, until the doctor advised I go it alone. I think I became more human on the day I tried to imagine how hard all those doctor visits were for him.

And though we didn't talk about it much, when the appointments rolled around my mom gave me the gift of hope. "maybe one day you won't have to go anymore." I didn't believe her and I don't think they ended as she thought they would, but I am a man who is usually hopeful.

work-- an excellent gig

I do see my job as an excellent gig. As many teachers stress through the first half of June counting days till graduation, my students and I are creating vegetable and flower gardens at the speed of sound. The summers I get paid to garden and cook. An excellent gig at an imperfect school. Sometimes while talking with Mosaic Woman I speak more of those imperfections than the joy that happens in my classroom.

As the years have moved on my part in that joy has grown and the wrath from my terseness has declined, but not been eliminated. so I am an imperfect teacher with a good gig at an imperfect school.

I could easily pass more of the tests that would certify me to teach science in public schools and leave special ed behind to search for a good gig elsewhere, but I am not one to think that jobs are perfect places and many have left to wonder why they left, except for the increase in pay and the state pension.

The enthusiasm for biology and geology has carried on through the first few weeks of school. I am doing more of what is expected of me as a teacher, and that almost always leads to better classes. I might be a bit of a character, and that may explain why even these special needs students enjoy my lectures. I had them laughing today as I was finally going over my classroom rules. Last year I was told all teachers should have rules posted so...

My rules include things such as: be hopeful, use anger to create positive solutions, be mindful, be joyful, leaves of three... leave them be, be compassionate to humans and plants... and feel free to wear good clothes, the dirt just might come out in the wash.

I was about to handout my first biology test the other day... I hate testing these guys and gals but I have been given the charge to teach the brightest and prepare them for college. Having them function in a classroom is the first step, passing science tests is not what all of them need at this point of their journey. And indeed one student chose to read the text instead.

So there I was with test in one hand and ringing my Tibetan prayer bowl to get their attention, when the not so unexpected anxiety attack came.

so I said this.... "In 11 years at this school I have only failed one student, and that was a horticulture student who was either throwing the potted plants to the ground or eating basil nonstop. Do you plan on doing anything like that?" They shake their heads. "So I will find a way for you to pass this class, trust me."

The student hit an easy question and moved on. Later he gave me a test with many blanks. I told him to set the test down, listen to his favorite tune on his I -Pod and then try to get something into blank spots. He got a B. On the day... one student in each class crashed and burned (later told that I could easily forget that grade if they and I learned from the experience and we became a better teacher and student) and a student in each class nearly aced what I had thrown at them. One expected, one a very pleasant surprise.

fresh and frozen

Life is good... a friend is someone who knows you well, or at least well enough that when you mock her, she laughs. It goes like this. Sunday at church she asks you for a gift of sorts. Monday night at Bible study you give her fresh rosemary, parsley and thyme. Tuesday night you run into her in the corner deli in our neighborhood (yes we have one) as she buys butter for the chicken pot pies. Wednesday, the phone takes you out of the studio, and you are offered a pot pie. In no time at all she is at your house and she dares to tell you that she used frozen veggies instead of fresh root vegetables. You say, "how could you have done that to my fresh herbs!"

there are more than one way to say thanks.

anyway, back to my after dinner snack. It is tasty.

The Last train to Lansdale...

The R5 to Lansdale was barely out of Philly when we all turned into pumpkins, but it was worth not running for the 10:50 train.

I've never been part of a crowd that worked so hard to get encores, but we did and we were treated with respect. Prior to each the jazz men came out, took a long bow and walked off the stage, all in all we brought them back out 7 times for three encores. What a hoot! Maybe knowing we were headed to become pumpkins, Keith Jarret (born 1945), Gary Peacock, who is 73 this year, and Jack DeJohnette played this for their first encore (wish I could have found them playing it, but Brubeck is no slouch).

It is so past my bedtime. I will tag this later.

Oh yeah. My eyes were closed for much of the show, but I was aware and awake to the music.

UPDATE

• five solid hours of sleep later...
• KJ is the baby of the group of men who are willing to play for three hours.
• These men who knew each other for a long time, came back together 25 years ago to form what is known as Jarret's standards trio. 17 recording dates, billions and billions and biiolns of shows later they are on the road celebrating these 25 years of friendship and love. No other way to stay together that long.
• There were many many folk a the show who were in their 20's listening with so much enthusiasm that it gives me hope that jazz is alive and well.
• How did this old guy stay awake past 10 Pm on a Friday night...Naked Chocolate Cafe on Walnut Street in Philly. Coffee and chocolate pastry is the answer. It was our first time there.
• After one hour they moved away from their instruments, bowed silently, and left the stage... "please don't tell me this is over." The man with a red jacket and badge by the door told us there was more to come. We chatted about how wonderful sleep is, and eventually were talking about the prodigal son.
• KJ said few things to the audience and only spoke into a microphone once. At 10:30 they left the stage. The audience stood and refused to leave. They came back and gave gave us a synchronised deep bow (how flexible are these old guys?) and left the stage. I kept my eye on a row of young fans sitting in the first row of a balcony directly behind the stage. They reminded me of the sports fans who lean over to give high fives to thier sport's idols after games. Most of us stayed with these young guys and cheered. The house lights were put on hold. Again they came out and gave a long synchronized bow bent over to the floor, pausing in submission to our appreciation their talents shared with us. They left the stage. We stood and cheered forbidding the lights to come on. Again they came out side by side and bowed to us. Then moved towards their instruments. The crowd roared and I knew I was going to be a pumpkin. They played the tune I linked to Brubeck. The crowd roared. It was around this time that KJ went to the microphone and said something like this... "This reminds me that this nation is lacking in energy. and I am not speaking of oil. Or non-oil." We stood and clapped keeping the lights off for several more bows and two more tunes.
• The man with the red jacket smiled at us as we left the show and headed out to experience the big city late at night. We will be back.

today and tomorrow

The day started with me writing "Bacteria in the NEWS..."

1. we now know a trick of TB which may lead to new drugs... hope
2. cars in England have well over 200 species of bacteria living in them... I wonder how many were in my car I just donated to charity.
3. Traditionally used Korean copper bowls kill a nasty bacteria that thrives in raw fish... cultural evolution meets biological evolution.
4. a cyanobacteria can fix nitrogen and it can do photosynthesis... blows the mind of biochemists. It also has linear chromosomes for those who care to know.
5. E coli have been engineered to make the plastic used in spandex and car bumpers... "green" plastic not from oil... this ones scares me and makes me say how cool.

The day ended with me sending an e-mail to say OOPS. Was not a great sin, but I wanted my supervisor to not lay full blame on another staff, declare my imperfections, explain the situation in full, and I wanted the person to reconsider a decision that will make a student sad.

So tomorrow I will head into work with the uncertainty of how my e-mail will bounce around in the head of the one it was sent to??????

Night also creates uncertainty. Uncertainty brings on fear. It is no wonder we love our electricity and that there are image after image in the Bible of God and Jesus being compared to light. Light is good.

Those who have journeyed with me know that Mosaic Woman and I do our fair share of cultural events. In 11 years of being in the suburbs, we have not headed to Philadelphia at night with each other, though we have each gone with friends. Tomorrow night that changes. A living legend, who graduated from the same school as my dad, is coming to town. In my opinion, the most beautiful jazz CD I own is The Melody of the Night, With You solo piano jazz by Keith Jarrett. In his early years he was known for epic imrovs and this album may shock those who have only heard those albums. Most of the tunes he selected are classic jazz standards, but not this one, click here, give your eyes a break, and listen to a man who is known to grunt at his piano to pull out notes he imagines it can make, if only he hopes and dreams them into being. Do you have 5 minutes and 46 seconds to share with the man's passion? I wish all of you do.

mandalas with burning bush

For now, preparing for next Monday's adult group has been going to the first verses of Chapter 3 of Exodus. I have been doing this when I sit in the chair of contemplation to reflect upon my day. Now the last three nights has made me see the burning bush in both of my recent mandala designs (how to design a mandala: 1. draw a circle 2. pray 3. fill the circle in).


The first was clear from the beginning, glowing earth, flames arising. I saw the story in the design and chose glass as I saw fit...





I recently spoke about imaginative prayer, but I most often read the Bible looking for a verse, phrase or word that catches my eye. It draws me in. Then I sit and ponder why those words caught my eye. This time it is a most appropriate verse... Exodus 3:3 --- Moses said "I must go across and see this strange sight..." I try to think what sights have drawn me to them. Am I being drawn by God when this happens. Two times in my life come to mind. I saw a woman walking in a library. That night after no conversation, only that sighting, I tell a friend that I saw a woman. I had never said such a thing in my life before. Now you all know her here as Mosaic Woman. I was so drawn that I overcame all the shyness and introverted nature I could to approach her. Was it holy ground I stepped upon to speak.

The second event happened a year earlier. I am walking on a snow covered path in the Pocono Mountains. I am stopped by an urge to be still and turn my head to the left. Often I will see a bird when I do this, but now a dead mouse rests in the branches of a sapling. I grow closer pondering how this came to be. Tears fill my eyes for the first time since who knows when.

The second mandala was drawn to improve upon the design of the first--- more branching and get rid of that mound of earth. I choose green for the branching. going with the complimentary color, red, for the background. Not seen as what it was at first, I now see it as a better representation of that event by the mountain of God. For in the Bible what caught Moses eye was the unburning (yes, I made up that word and I like it!) bush. Here the bush remains green in the midst of a fire storm of God's visiting spirit.




OK, now to get goofy. Before my theological insights, I was going to call this post a toilet with a view, for both of these are hanging in my bathroom window. Even took a lovely photo featuring the toilet and the two stained glass mandalas over the weekend. For now they will hang there unless someone discovers them at our ETSY SHOP. Then in November (unless sold) they will travel to a craft fair, which I will advertise in due time.