To Gyre and Gambol: January 2012

25 January, 2012

Poetically Older

I've been ill the past few days - so not much writing is getting done. The poetry challenge, however, continues. Day 23 - write a poem that includes three parts of the body. This is managed, briefly though.

And with humor, I think.

older

As I look down from way up here,

From just above my nose,

I cannot see beyond my waist

To where I once saw toes.

TGB

23 January, 2012

{this moment} 36

A Monday ritual. A single image - no words - capturing a moment from the past - sometimes a place with many moments - but somewhere along my life's Journey over which I wish to linger and savor each treasured aspect of the memories it evokes. If you are moved or intrigued by my {this moment}, please leave a comment. On Thursday in a companion ritual called {this memory}, I'll share the story of this moment.

{this moment}

{this moment} is a ritual copied and adapted from cath's wonderful blog ~just my thoughts. She, in turn, borrowed it from Pamanner's Blog. Check out their blogs, and if you're inspired to do the same, leave a link to your {this moment} in the comments for each of us to find and see.

TGB

22 January, 2012

The Ham Sandwich

A priest and a rabbi were sitting next to each other on an airplane. After some time inflight, the priest turned to the rabbi and asked, “Is it still a requirement of your faith that you not eat pork?”

The rabbi responded, “Yes, that is still one of our laws.” The priest then asked, “Have you ever eaten pork?” To which the rabbi replied, “Yes, on one occasion I did succumb to temptation and tasted a ham sandwich.”

The priest nodded in understanding and continued on with his reading.

A little while later, the rabbi spoke up and asked the priest, “Is it still a requirement of your church that you remain celibate?”

The Priest replied, “Yes, that is still very much a part of our faith.” The rabbi then asked, “Have you ever fallen to the temptations of the flesh?" The priest replied, “Yes, on one occasion I was weak and broke that vow.”

The rabbi nodded understandingly and remained silent as he thought for about five more minutes. Finally, the rabbi leaned over and whispered, “Beats the hell out of a ham sandwich, doesn't it?”

Author Unknown

21 January, 2012

Tree

Almost every day I photograph this tree near my office window - always from the same angle, the same zoom, and about the same time of day. This is my favorite image from the past week.

TGB

To view a video set to music that contains 135 images taken over 12 months, click here.

For the 2010 collection of images, click here.
For the 2011 collection of images, click here.
For the 2012 collection of images, click here.

19 January, 2012

{this memory} 35

This is the story behind last Monday's {this moment}.

You're looking at married officers' quarters on Powhatan Street, Naval Station, Norfolk - then called the NOB. I lived in this end unit for a few pre-school years while my father had shore duty as Executive Officer of Camp Allen, the on-shore brig for the Atlantic Fleet. That's not the memory, but it is the context.

It was here: where if I hung out by the enlisted mess hall, I was given ice cream; where my best friend pulled the fire alarm at the corner and I got so scared when the firetrucks came that I wet my pants; where I would try to take the lawnmowers apart when the sailors took a lunch break; where I broke my brand new toy pistol when I dropped from the top of a huge slide - I had to - he got the drop on me and told me to drop my gun; where my older brother's class hid me in the closet at the rear of the classroom; where I asked my mother to come outside and look at the bugs, in reality a nest of black widow spiders; where I experienced my first hurricane - Hazel in 1954; where the admiral's limo ran over me and broke my arm - I'm told my father wasn't too happy about that. On and on.

Oh my, I was a busy little boy, but what vivid memories I have. I am truly a fortunate man.

TGB

18 January, 2012

Maddox And Me

We have a little boy dog named Maddox. He's six.

Well, that's not quite right. He's no longer a male. Oh ... and he's not really little - unless you call 130+ pounds of pure Yellow Labrador Retriever little. And I guess if the truth be told, he's not really ours; Maddox belongs to my younger daughter.

Maddox is the fifth dog in my life since I moved to New York in 1975. I arrived with a pure-bred Collie named Miss Bo Jangles and a 20 pound wonder mutt I adopted from the shelter in Virginia Beach in 1972. Bo was gone by 1977 having moved elsewhere, but Dixie was with me until 1989. She was my first dog and dearly loved. Such losses are rough.

Dixie disappeared a week before my wife, my two daughters, and I were due to travel to Italy. We searched everywhere including the shelter and the pound but couldn't find her. We were gone three weeks, and shortly after our return, the animal control folks called to tell us she had been found in a yard just down the street from us. She had evidently died of old age but happy and running with the wind - which was not a bad thing for a dog who was 121 dog years old.

This would not do, of course, for a family with two young daughters. We saw some puppies on television who were at a shelter in Rome. We soon returned with a new mutt, Tocco - not taco but Tocco, with long O's and named after the Abruzzi village where we had just stayed for a week. Unfortunately, Tocco had distemper, and after she had a couple of seizures, I had little choice but to have her put down. Notice the pronoun use has shifted from "We" to "I." Ugh. There was minimal angst after such a short time, but Tocco did need to be replaced. And quickly.

We traveled to Herkimer and soon had a pure-bred Black Labrador Retriever. She was to be named Tocco also. After all, how could you resist a name like Tocco II? Isn't that what Dorothy said? "And Tocco Two." Wait, maybe that was "and Toto too." Anyway, Tocco was with us for a good long stretch until her hips became problematic, and she could no longer stand. It wasn't the dysplasia of many large dogs but another problem, and the vet did not think that surgery would help.

Her loss was very difficult, and the memory of my last visit with her remains vivid. When I turned for one last glance and she wagged her tail, I swore there would be no more dogs. The good-byes are just too painful. With my daughters now into their twenties that was an easy decision and one that made our lives much easier.

Maddox Imitating the Luck Dragon

Then one day my younger daughter appeared in my office door. When I looked up from whatever I was doing, she said, "Mom says I have to tell you." Oh, dear. You can imagine all of the bad things that are running through my mind. Well, it wasn't any of those, but it was that she had purchased a puppy and would be bringing it home in a few weeks. Maddox has been with us for about six years now except for the two years he went to graduate school with my daughter in Mississippi.

Just over a year ago he had surgery on his left knee. Everyone who saw him limp said "oh, that's too bad, but big dogs get that hip thing." Nope. He had a problem with his knee; there's nothing wrong with his hips. The only real challenge was keeping those 130 pounds quiet for six weeks after surgery.

The condition had existed for about a year, and it was as if he had torn his ACL - except dogs don't have an ACL. If he got busy running or jumping, you know the next time he got up from a nap he'd be limping. Well, that's repaired now, and he's again terrorizing those Little Bunny Foo Foos who dare come into his yard. He doesn't discriminate though; he chases the birds too. And with equal success.

One more thing. It's about my decision never to have another dog. The research is pretty clear that petting a dog lowers your blood pressure, and I've been informed that when my daughter moves out, Maddox will be staying behind. It's a good thing I like him, but I also know that someday there will be a difficult moment. Such is life.

TGB

16 January, 2012

{this moment} 35

{this moment}

TGB

15 January, 2012

Three Holy Men And A Bear

A Catholic Priest, a Baptist Preacher, and a Rabbi all served as Chaplains to the students of Northern Michigan University on the Upper Peninsula. They would get together a few times a week for coffee and shoptalk. One day, someone made the comment that preaching to people isn't really all that hard, a real challenge would be to preach to a bear.

One thing led to another, and they decided to do an experiment. They would all go out into the woods, find a bear, preach to it, and attempt to convert it to their religion. Seven days later, they came together again to discuss their experiences.

Father Flannery, who had his arm in a sling, was on crutches, and had various bandages on his body and limbs, went first.

"Well," he said, "I went into the woods to find me a bear, and when I found him, I began to read to him from the Catechism."

"Well, that bear wanted nothing to do with me and began to slap me around. So I quickly grabbed my holy water, sprinkled him and, Holy Mary, Mother of God, he became as gentle as a lamb. The Bishop is coming out next week to give him first communion and confirmation."

Reverend Billy Bob spoke next. He was in a wheelchair, had one arm and both legs in casts, and had an IV drip.

In his best fire-and-brimstone oratory, he exclaimed, "WELL, brothers, you KNOW that we Baptists don't sprinkle! I went out and I FOUND me a bear. And then, I began to read to my bear from God's HOLY WORD! But that bear wanted nothing to do with me."

"So I took HOLD of him, and we began to wrestle. We wrestled down one hill, UP another and DOWN another until we came to a creek. So I quickly DUNKED him and BAPTIZED his hairy soul. And just like you said, he became as gentle as a lamb. We spent the rest of the day praising Jesus ... Hallelujah!"

The Priest and the Reverend both looked down at the Rabbi, who was lying in a hospital bed. He was in a body cast and traction with IVs and monitors running in and out of him. He was in really bad shape. The Rabbi looked up and said, "Looking back on it ... circumcision may not have been the best way to start."

Author Unknown

14 January, 2012

Tree

Almost every day I photograph this tree near my office window - always from the same angle, the same zoom, and about the same time of day. This is my favorite image from the past week.

TGB

13 January, 2012

Poetically Anticipating

Last week you were all so gentle with my poetry that your reward is another offering. Sorry.

What follows also results from the poetry challenge I've entered - this time to write a poem that includes a delivery or an arrival.

Aha! In a few short weeks, I shall become a grandfather for the first time. This poem is not my best effort but conveys a bit of what I expect to feel as the day approaches.

When?

with pacing
uncharacteristic
I move about the rooms
counting steps and tiles except
when I sit
staring
at a spot on the wall
wondering if clocks ever get dizzy

ups and downs
and forths and backs
intermingle with
right handed coin fumbling
obverse then
reverse then obverse
each examined without seeing

IN GOD WE TRUST

Ah

my phone’s not ringing
my messenger’s not chiming
but wait!
what was that?
damn - only imagination
once again

grandfather becoming
such frustratingly delightful anticipation

TGB

12 January, 2012

{this memory} 34

This is the story behind last Monday's {this moment}.

You're looking at one set of floodlights at Gaetano Stadium, Utica College. That's not the memory. The memory has nothing to do with the lights. In fact, I have never attended an event - football, soccer, lacrosse, whatever - at this venue.

What I am savoring is that I took this photo from my office - almost a quarter-mile away. Remarkable. What I am savoring are the memories and enjoyment that are resurfacing because of the new camera I was given for Christmas.

In the 1970s and early 1980s, I was very much into photography. I used primarily a Canon SLR and owned a number of extra lenses. I especially liked my telephoto lens. As anyone with an SLR will tell you the ability to control depth of field, focus, and exposure allows for great creativity.

As I began to lose the use of my left hand, much of that creativity dissipated as I increasingly turned to auto-focus point-and-shoot cameras. I simply wasn't able to adjust the SLR with one hand. My new camera is still auto-focus but has a bevy of neat features and a 35x zoom capability. You see the evidence of that here.

It was a good Christmas, and my images of Tree will continue to flow. I am excited, however, to see what I can do with these new camera features.

I am truly a fortunate man.

TGB

11 January, 2012

There's Something About Hands

Hands – what incredible symbolism they possess! They truly amaze. The laying on of hands can symbolize the giving of a blessing or perhaps authority. In the Bible – depending on the era – the expression can refer to receiving the Holy Spirit, the ordination of a priest, or the transfer of one’s sins. There are so many possibilities, and they all are significant.

Shaking hands is a practice that is at least 2500 years old. We do it to say hello, we do it to say good-bye, and we do it to congratulate. Two individuals who are in love hold hands, usually interlocking their fingers as they knit two into one. And of course, we hold a child’s hand when we offer guidance or assistance or seek to protect them.

Hands are windows that allow me to see what I might normally not. I know whether I will like someone by how I react to their touch. I even can tell whether I will ultimately trust a physician or therapist by the way that they touch. The bond is instantaneous when it’s right.

A hand doesn’t seem like much – weighing in as it does at less than a pound. Sure, it has twenty-seven bones and nearly four dozen tendons, and there are those who sing praises to a complexity that can at once engage each of forty or more muscles with exquisite dexterity. Others trumpet its seventeen thousand nerve endings - Meissner’s Corpuscles, Merkel Cells, Pacinian Corpuscles, and of course, Ruffini Endings. Fine. I’ll concede that it’s an intricate anatomy and worthy of endless detailing.

Nothing, however, can begin to describe the true wonder of the hand - when those incredible sensitivities interwoven with the richness of human emotion inspire truly transcendent moments of extraordinary power. I find no words in our earthbound languages that can adequately

portray what I feel when touching a fellow traveler on the Journey or when such a traveler touches me. It is simply a gift that represents the very essence of the human experience.

TGB

09 January, 2012

{this moment} 34

A Monday ritual. A single image - no words - capturing a moment from the past. A simple moment along my life's Journey - but one over which I wish to linger and savor each treasured aspect of the memories it evokes. If you are moved or intrigued by my {this moment}, please leave a comment. On Thursday in a companion ritual called {this memory}, I'll share the story of this moment.

{this moment}

TGB

08 January, 2012

The Golfing Gods

A nun was sitting with her Mother Superior, chatting. "I used some horrible language this week and feel absolutely horrible about it." The elder asked, "When did you use this awful language?"

"Well, I was golfing and hit an incredible drive that looked like it was going to go more than 280 yards, but it struck a phone line that's hanging over the fairway and fell straight down to the ground after going only about 100 yards."

"Is that when you swore?"

"No, Mother," said the nun. "After that a squirrel ran out of the bushes and grabbed my ball in its mouth and began to run away."

"Is THAT when you swore?" asked the Mother Superior

"Well, no. You see, as the squirrel was running, an eagle came down from the sky, grabbed the squirrel in his talons, and began to fly away."

"Is THAT when you swore?" asked the amazed elder.

"No not yet. As the eagle carried the squirrel away, it flew near the green, and the squirrel dropped my ball."

"Did you swear then?" asked Mother impatiently.

"No, because the ball fell on a big rock, bounced over the sand trap, rolled onto the green, and stopped about a foot from the hole."

The two became silent for a moment.

Then Mother Superior sighed and asked, "You missed the damn putt, didn't you?"

Author Unknown

07 January, 2012

Tree

Almost every day I photograph this tree near my office window - always from the same angle, the same zoom, and about the same time of day. This is my favorite image from the past week.

TGB

06 January, 2012

Poetically Tasteful

The challenge was straight-forward enough. 'Write a poem that involves a sequence of events or steps - such as a process, a recipe, instructions, or anything that could only happen in a certain order.'

I am not a poet and am far more comfortable in the world of prose. I do think, nevertheless, it's good for me to wax poetic every so often - good for my writing skills and good for my desire to ignore occasionally the rules of grammar.

So I offer my response to the challenge and ask that you be kind but also be critical, please. It's how I grow.

TGB

now Savored

white onion, one, finely chopped,
until translucent
now Sautéd

arborio rice, with onion mixed,
for a minute, or two,
now Toasted

saffron threads,
into previously heated broth
now Crumbled

simmering broth, onto rice,
with repeated absorbent stirring
now Ladled

rice grains, al dente, with butter,
parmigiano reggiano,
portobello, crimini, perhaps porcini
now Infused

risotto -
creamy, rich, fragrant, golden -
with parmigiano shavings,
now Crowned

05 January, 2012

{this memory} 33

This is the story behind last Monday's {this moment}.

Gotcha! I'm not not skiing in the Alps, not visiting Swedish friends, not even on vacation at all.

When I moved to New York in the summer of 1975, fresh out of graduate school, I looked for a place to rent that was about half-way between Utica where I would be working and Syracuse where I had other commitments. I found this place in Canastota - a small two bedroom A-frame. It was fairly new, novel, and just the right size - even with two dogs. Most importantly, the rent was reasonable.

I lived there for one year, until I bought an old farmhouse just south of Oneida. It was in this A-frame where I saw my father for the last time, where my best friends from high school (and my goddaughter) swore they would never toboggan again, and where I burned much midnight oil designing courses and writing lectures as a new assistant professor.

It was a good year, and I grew up a lot.

I can look back on many happy memories and am truly a fortunate man.

TGB

03 January, 2012

Über-Resolutions

I guess it's time to think about resolutions, my New Year's Resolutions.

I've made only a few in my life, and in each case they re-
presented needed change. Evidently, however, being resolute
was not a sufficient condition. Yes, there was a modicum
of success with the desired changes, and for a time my
behaviors improved. Before long, though, they re-
turned to baseline - as we behaviorists are wont to
say, and defeat was snatched from the jaws of victory. Sigh. Oops. Alas. Woe is me. Now what?

So I find myself torn about making any resolutions. After all, why bother if ultimately they don't work? I joked the other day that perhaps I should resolve to make no resolutions. The problem with that, of course, is that it is doomed to failure. Ipso facto.

Resolutions don't work for most people because the word "resolution" is in the same category as the word "diet." Each implies that we can make some temporary changes for a brief period, and everything will be better. Then we are surprised when - after some initial progress - we find ourselves back where we started. Long lasting change requires hard work.

Nevertheless, we are blessed once a year with a chance to make a fresh start - to begin anew with a clean slate, and I think we should take advantage of that gift. If I could, I would build a huge stone circle to tell me when a new annual cycle was beginning. That way if I weren't invited to a New Year's Eve pary, I could still know when my slate was once again about to be cleaned.

If nothing else, January represents a good time to reflect on what's working in our lives and what isn't. It's certainly an opportunity to consider what we might do better.

In that scenario, resolutions proper might not be necessary. If you, however, are the type whom these public or private commitments help motivate, then by all means go for it. Make your resolutions.

For me, simply taking time for some critical self-reflection on how I'm doing is more important. It's in the identification of those areas of my life where I can do better that I find the significance, and making a formal resolution holds little value for me. I guess it's the thought that counts.

For those of you who think I'm missing out, I'll make one, I guess - sort of an über resolution. I resolve to do better which in my mind means to be better. Or, at least I resolve to think about that - to be better at BEing. Wish me luck.

Oh ... by the way ... if I'm honest ... shedding a few pounds and exercising wouldn't hurt either.

TGB

02 January, 2012

{this moment} 33

{this moment}

TGB

01 January, 2012

Forrest Gump and St. Peter

It wasn't the way he planned to start the new year, but Forrest Gump died on January 1. Soon he stood in front of St. Peter at the Pearly Gates. St. Peter said, "Welcome, Forrest. We've heard a lot about you." He continued, "Unfortunately, it's getting pretty crowded up here, and we find that we now have to give people an entrance examination before we let them in."

"Okay," said Forrest. "I hope it's not too hard. I've already been through a test. I took one at the draft board just so I could join the United States Army."

"Yes, Forrest, I know, but this test has only three questions. Here they are.
1) Which two days of the week begin with the letter 'T'?"
2) How many seconds are in a year?
3) What is God's first name?"

"Well, sir," said Forrest, "The first one is easy. Which two days of the week begin with the letter 'T'? That would be Today and Tomorrow."

St. Peter looked surprised and said, "Well, that wasn't the answer I was looking for, but you have a point. I give you credit for that answer."

"The next question," said Forrest, "How many seconds are in a year? That would be twelve."

"Twelve?" said St. Peter, surprised and confused.

"Yes, sir. January 2nd, February 2nd, March 2nd …"

St. Peter interrupted him. "I see what you mean. I'll have to give you credit for that one too."

"And the last question," said Forrest, "What is God's first name? Well, it's 'Andy.'"

"Andy?" said St. Peter, in shock. "How did you come up with 'Andy'?"

"I learned it in church. We used to sing about it." Forest broke into song, "Andy walks with me, Andy talks with me, Andy tells me I am His own."

St. Peter opened the Gate to Heaven and said, "Welcome to Heaven, Forrest, and Happy New Year. Oh, by the way, Jennie has been waiting for you."

Author Unknown

25 January, 2012

23 January, 2012

22 January, 2012

21 January, 2012

19 January, 2012

18 January, 2012

16 January, 2012

15 January, 2012

14 January, 2012

13 January, 2012

12 January, 2012

11 January, 2012

09 January, 2012

08 January, 2012

07 January, 2012

06 January, 2012

05 January, 2012

03 January, 2012

02 January, 2012

01 January, 2012

Most Viewed Posts of the Last 30 Days

Most Viewed Posts - All Time