Arrgghhh!!!

Well, I have finished grading the exam I gave on Monday, and I'll be returning them in just a few short hours. I guess it could have been worse. Not much, but I've learned it can always be worse.

Let's see. 4 As. 2 Bs. 7 Cs. 3 Ds. 12 Fs. Mean of 65, with a high score of 100 and a low of 37.

It frustrates me that most students just sit staring in class without taking any notes, that many never read the material prior to class, and that some never even buy the text. I understand the reasons and all of the history of this. I get all that, but given what higher education costs these days, it sure is a huge waste of money. I don't know why they are here if they're not willing to work, and I see a motivation to learn in only a few. It seems to me that life offers no choice -- learn it now or learn it later -- and the later it is, the more expensive those lessons become.

And then there are the seven who didn't even show up for the exam -- several with sudden-appearing flu-like symptoms. I wasn't surprised when I saw that five of those seven had failed the first exam. Harumph.

Maybe I'm just old and cranky.

Nah.

TGB   

My First Time

... at least the first one I remember experiencing was Hurricane Hazel in 1954. I was living on the Norfolk Navy Base then, and I can still see the tree damage. Then there were Donna and Connie and Cleo and Camille and Agnes - all nasty killers. Others too, but the only one that matters now is Sandy. She's big.

Until you've seen the damage these angry ocean waves can cause, it's hard to appreciate the power of nature, but at the same time, we are a fragile species at best anyway. The falling of a tree branch can take us out. Flooding, power outages, wind damage. Ugly. Ugly. Ugly.

All I can say is stay safe, my friends. It will pass, and there will be much joy in the stories you'll tell.

TGB   

In the image above you see the tracks of hurricanes whose names were retired as a way to remember their intensity or destruction.

{picture perfect} The Quad

Any fall semester on the quad at Utica College

Copyright © 2012 Thomas G. Brown

The Great Debate

About a century or two ago, the Pope decided that all the Jews had to leave Rome. When there was the expected uproar from the Jewish community, the Pope made a deal. He would have a religious debate with one of them. If the Pope lost, the Jewish members could stay. If the Pope won, however, they would have to leave.

The Jewish community realized that they had no choice. They looked around for a champion who could defend their faith, but no one wanted to volunteer. It was too risky. So finally they picked an old man, Moishe, to represent them. Moishe spent his life sweeping up after people. Being old and poor, he had less to lose, so he agreed. He asked only for one addition condition for the debate. Not being used to saying very much as he cleaned up around the settlement, he asked that neither side be allowed to talk. The Pope agreed.

The day of the great debate came. Moishe and the Pope sat opposite each other for a full minute before the Pope raised his hand and showed three fingers. Moishe looked back at him and raised one finger. The Pope waved his fingers in a circle around his head. Moishe pointed to the ground where he sat. The Pope pulled out a wafer and a glass of wine. Moishe pulled out an apple. The Pope stood up and said, “I give up. This man is too good. The Jewish community can stay.”

An hour later, the cardinals were all around the Pope asking him what happened. The Pope said, “First I held up three fingers to represent the Trinity. He responded by holding up one finger, to remind me that there was still one God common to both our religions. Then I waved my finger around me to show him, that God was all around us. He responded by pointing to the ground, showing that God was also right here with us. I pulled out the wine and the wafer to show that God absolves us from our sins. He pulled out an apple to remind me of original sin. He had an answer for everything. What could I do?”

Meanwhile, the Jewish community had crowded around Moishe, amazed that this old, almost feeble-minded man had done what all their scholars had insisted was impossible! “What happened?” they asked.

“Well,” said Moishe, “first he said to me that the Jews had three days to get out of here. I told him that not one of us was leaving. Then he told me that this whole city would be cleared of anyone Jewish. I let him know that we were staying right here.”

“And then?” asked a woman.

“I don’t know,” said Moishe. “He took out his lunch, and I took out mine.”

Author Unknown   

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   

Copyright © 2012 Thomas G. Brown

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.

I See Deep Purple

The billowy waves of purple are intense as they roll across my mind, each one riding atop of the one prior like gentle shorebreak on the edge some cosmic ocean. If that's not enough, the waves occasionally throw golden shadows. It's quite a show.

"What am I talking about," you're likely to be thinking. Well, I have written about it before in The Dance. Yesterday I had another session with the physical therapist I've seen off and on for the past twenty years.

Every session is similarly powerful. I don't know what's generating these visions as she works on my body. I've considered of 1835 Doctrine of Specific Nerve Energies which says that "that the nature of perception is defined by the pathway over which the sensory information is carried. Hence, the origin of the sensation is not important." In other words, no matter how the eye is stimulated, the visual cortex will respond -- whether it's a light in the eye or physical pressure on the eye or some other way.

Nope. My eyes are closed and untouched -- unstimulated in any way. Yet the visions abound.

All I know is I'm thankful for them. Once I manage to peel myself off the table, I feel wonderful. Some things I guess I just don't need to understand.

TGB    

{poetically plagiarized} 14: Finch

A Valentine For Hands

names, silence—quietest minutes
(building like rain or returning like seas)
since they have touched me, your warm hands have sown
gentlest sounds, touches and hours
(or, building like rain, turning, like seas)

(building like rain, or returning like seas)
ripples and springs—the shiniest rivers—
since they have known me your warm hands have gathered
smallest, most stars—happiest skies—
simplest—touched—sounding—hours

Annie Finch, 2003

Not Alone

I'm republishing this post (with minor editing) from about 18 months ago. I think it deserves wider audience, and -- well -- I needed to read it again as well.

I have a story. It's a story of a rather remarkable medical history, and when I first began to tell it, I made reference to a world seemingly determined to punish me. The joke was always -- "what must I have done in some previous life to deserve this?"A good friend, who knew my story, paused over my use of the word punishment, and in trying to listen to that pause, I paused too.

It's true. It really wasn't the case that I felt punished, in spite of my recurrent serious illnesses. Yet none of the other words I ventured seemed right either. As it turns out, the problem was the phrase itself. The phrase wasn’t true to my story, and therefore, no word within it would ever resonate.

We've all heard it -- "bad things happen to good people." And, I've been known to say, “If bad things occasionally happen to good people, I have probably had more than my share.” When I said that in the past, however, it was almost with a sense of pride not with the shame of punishment, and in my more meditative moods, I have thought no one is given more than he can handle. Today I must ask, was this pride? Or was it simply näiveté?

On more than a few occasions when others were facing difficulty, I have barked, “If this must be, give it to me. I can handle it. Leave these others alone.” In January and February of 2009 though, the tables were turned. After coding in the Emergency Department, I again fought life-threatening illness. Then, in the deep of my winter, there were many who worked tirelessly to save me, a stranger, and there were many others who danced their miracles of love, for me and for themselves.

So ... if I wasn’t being punished, perhaps I was being tested. How strong is he? How brave is he? How intelligent is he? No, my challenges were not tests. They were lessons, and lessons that for me were evidently unfinished despite their increasing intensity.

It would be necessary for me to confess how profoundly others helped when I was most helpless, and just maybe I am finally beginning to learn that it wasn’t I who rose to every previous medical challenge -- it was WE who rose to every challenge.

And -- just maybe it was more than fortune that brought so many to my bend of the river, and however strong, however brave, however intelligent I may be, to complete my journey I need them - these guides who nourish me with support and perspective and wisdom.

TGB  

What Was She Thinking?

It had been a week or two since I had graded and returned their first exam. As is my custom, I used all of the letter grades. Sigh. Just once I'd like to see all 'A's. Even 'A's and 'B's would be a thrill. It's hard not to feel as though you've wasted your time when there are numerous 'F's and 'D's.

My typical test in this course has ten brief essay questions of which students must answer any eight. They can skip two. The second exam is not far off. My students know that one of the ten questions from the first exam will be on the second exam, and they must answer it. It's my way of not letting them immediately forget what they studied earlier in the semester. It's important for them to have good answers to each of those first ten questions whether they answered them or not.

It was in that context that a student approached me after class asking if she could meet with me so she could be certain she was clear on what was a 'good answer.' With as straight a face as I could manage, I said 'No.' Her response was to say 'okay' and start to leave.

I stopped her, explained I was teasing, and noted that I was available any time for that. I explained to her that was my job, that was teaching, and that was what I do. I live for the student who will seek me outside of class to help them learn. There is enormous reward in that.

When she finally comes in, I will also talk to her about being more assertive with her educational expectations. I believe she has a right to that assistance. I mean, what was she thinking?

TGB   

{picture perfect} Claret

Copyright © 2012 Thomas G. Brown

The Lord's Share

Three ministers were talking over lunch and before long found themselves discussing how much of the weekly donation was appropriate to keep and how much to give to the Lord.

The first minister says, “I just draw a line on the floor, put one foot on both sides, and throw the money into the air. Whatever lands on the right side of the line is God’s, and whatever lands on the left is mine.”

The second minister notes that he uses a similar method, but “I use a small coffee table when I throw the money in the air. Then whatever lands on the table goes to the Lord, and whatever lands on the floor is mine.”

They both contemplate each other’s answer and finally turn to the third minister who is sitting there without saying anything. “Well, how do you do it?” asks the first to the third. “Well, I do as you both do and throw the money into the air, but I figure whatever the Lord wants, he’ll grab. I just keep whatever hits the floor.”

Author Unknown   

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   

Copyright © 2012 Thomas G. Brown

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.

Mighty Finn - Update #7

Early update this time, boys and girls. There's a lot going on, and the miles are piling up. I left home for a few days in Aspen, back to the apartment, then home to New York, and finally London and Oxford before heading west again. What a wonderful world.

Hi ho. A good night's sleep and I'll be ready to roll.

Mommy's shoe. If she forgets to pack this,

there's no telling what of mine she'll forget.

I love hanging ten in my stroller, and my oh my,

downtown Aspen is sure pretty.

Yay. Another big chair.

Now that I can sit up, I love these things.

Same chair, another angle.

Want to join me? There's room.

Speaking of room. Look at this chair!

And it's outside where I can just chill.

We'll be skiing in just a month or two.

Ready for some more down time,

but then it's off to New York.

Shut! Up! I have a COUSIN?!

And here he is. Gaven's just a few months older than I am,

although I'm bigger. Oh the fun we're going to have. 

That's his mommy, Stephanie, holding him.

One of my favorite things at home in New York

is my auntie's dog Maddox. He's a yellow lab.

Here we are discussing the election in my grandpa's front hall.

He's as disgusted as I am.

 I'll save England for my next update. See you soon.

{this memory} 64

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

Ah, a most pleasant memory. This photo was taken in the living room of my brother-in-law's home in South Utica in late 1981. The occasion was the baptism of my older daughter who is the smallest of three folks shown here. My wife, of course, is holding her as I stand behind them.

His home was very close to the church, and it was a pleasant walk that day to and from the church. My brother- and sister-in-law are my daughters godparents.

In harmony with the circle of life, my daughter baptized her own son last August.

I have many wonderful memories, and I remain a most fortunate man.

TGB

{essential truths} Pickles

No one cares how you feel about pickles.
There is simply not much else
you can make with a cucumber.

</ br>

Looking For Inspiration

It was such a perfect gift, this journal. It’s beautiful - with just the right feel when one holds it in their hand. Shortly after receiving it I told the individual who gave it to me that I was reluctant to write in this leather-bound treasure, and a few years later I have yet to do so. It remains, however, an inspiration and perhaps that is as it should be. Certainly when the time is finally right and my pen is, in fact, sufficiently inspired, the ink will flow, and the pages will fill.

This journal and the encouragement of my friend have resulted in hundreds of essays I've written over the past few years. Lately though I have hit a wee bit of a dry patch. The outlines of essays are piling up, but I am having difficulty doing any writing of real consequence. Granted I've been dealing with some heath issues, but it is, nevertheless, frustrating. Perhaps it is time to see how powerful my journal is, time to hold it again and accept its inspiration. Was that not it's intended purpose? Or will I need to sit again with my muse for a more forceful message?

TGB   

{this moment} 64

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 a bit 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}

Copyright © 2012 Thomas G. Brown

{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   

Sister Margaret

Sister Margaret died and through some error found herself in hell. She immediately called Saint Peter and said, "This is Sister Margaret. There's been a terrible mistake!"

She explained the situation, and Saint Peter said he'd get right on it.

The next day the nun didn't hear from Saint Peter so she called him again. "Please set this error straight before tonight," she begged. "There's an orgy planned 8:30, and everyone *must* attend!"

"Of course, Sister," he said. "I'll get you out of there right away."

Apparently, her plight slipped his mind, and the following morning Saint Peter received another phone call from hell. He picked up the receiver with tribulations of his heart and started to listen. He heard the following, "Hey, Pete, this is Maggie. Never mind!"

Author Unknown   

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   

Copyright © 2012 Thomas G. Brown

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.

{this memory} 63

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

Ah, a memory without a memory. I cannot tell you what the occasion was for this photograph.

What I remember is the young man. It is I, in a favorite jacket. I can tell you that we are in the early 1950s, prior to the second grade. We are in Norfolk, Virginia sometime between November and March, and we are at one of the municipal parks, perhaps the Norfolk Zoo.

I have many wonderful memories and some wonderful almost memories. I am a fortunate man.

TGB

Spiral Knowledge

In Being Where I spent a few words characterizing our passages on the River of Life as the Journey, and in another space I went on to define the Journey as the unfolding course of one's life. I am hardly alone in describing it that way, but at some point I even created a bit of Flair to reinforce the notion: Be the Journey - meaning each of us should enjoy every minute of life to the fullest and strive to make every gifted minute into a Moment. I still like that thought.

Over the past few years I have engaged a few good friends in some very real discussions about life and the unexpected course often it takes. Even those discussions have developed in unexpected directions, and the opportunities for them have come and gone as my path intersected with and then diverged from those of my friends.

The image that is below is the result if one specific interchange.

For me, the river is still a more comfortable metaphor than the spiral, but I fully appreciate both. And there is certainly plenty of room for both.

TGB   

{this moment) 63

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 a bit 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}

Copyright © 2012 Thomas G. Brown

{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   

{poetically plagiarized} 13: MacDonald

Friday night I attended a Rod MacDonald concert in Syracuse. Rod and I were fraternity brothers in the late 60s. Still are. I was unaware for much of his career that he was performing, but in the last decade I've become quite a fan. He is a wonderfully talented American folksinger and songwriter - described by one critic as "… one of the most politically and socially aware lyricists of our time, Rod MacDonald has been entertaining audiences worldwide for over 35 years with his timeless ballads, modern folk songs, satirical commentaries, wry humor, and diverse music genres.”

I remain amazed each time I see him that his voice retains its pure and crystalline quality, his guitar work unexcelled, and his songwriting so very entertaining. I apologize for the audio quality on the clip. Check out his music - on Amazon, CDBaby, or his web site.

TGB   

American
Jerusalem

Rod MacDonald
1978

New York City rain
I don't know if it's making me dirtier or clean
went for the subway but there was no train
and the tunnel was crumbling for repairs again
and the sign said welcome to American Jerusalem

I been around
you could spend forever looking for a friend in this town
and all you get to do is lay your dollar down
till you're stumbling drunk up the stairs again
and the sign says welcome to American Jerusalem

In the temples of American Jerusalem
they buy an ounce of South African gold
they don't care who was bought or sold
or who died to mine it
in the temples of American Jerusalem
they buy an ounce of Marseilles white
somewhere on a street with no light
somebody dies trying it

and somewhere in a crowd
looking the kind of way that makes you turn around
will be somebody who knows what it's about
and she's going to take the ribbons from her hair again
and welcome you to American Jerusalem

In the alleys of American Jerusalem
the homeless lie down at the dawn
the pretty people wonder what they're on
and how they afford it
in the ashes of American Jerusalem
the prophets live their deaths out on the corner
the pretty people say there should've been a warning
but nobody heard it

then shadows lick the sun
the streets are paved with footsteps on the run
somebody must've got double 'cause I got none
I forgot to collect my share again
so go west to breath the cleansing air again
go Niagara for your honeymoon again
go on the road if you're going to sing your tune again
go to sea to learn to be a man again
till you come on home to
American Jerusalem

The Wall Of Life

A funeral service is being held in a synagogue for a woman who has just passed away.

At the end of the service, the pallbearers are carrying the casket out when they accidentally bump into a wall jarring the casket.

They hear a faint moan. When they open the casket, they find that the woman is actually alive. She lives for 10 more years and then dies.

A ceremony is again held at the same synagogue and at the end of the service the pallbearers are again carrying out the casket. As they are walking, the husband cries out, "Watch out for the wall this time!"

Author Unknown

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   

Copyright © 2012 Thomas G. Brown

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.

{essential truths} Smiles

Smiling

always has and always will be

easier than explaining

why you're sad.

{poetically plagiarized} 12: Hughes

The Negro Speaks of Rivers

For my friend Paul ...

The Negro Speaks of Rivers, considered Langston Hughes' signature poem, was written in 1920, first published in 1921, and collected in his first book of poetry, The Weary Blues, in 1926.

TGB   

I've known rivers:
I've known rivers ancient as the world and older than the
         flow of human blood in human veins.

My soul has grown deep like the rivers.
I bathed in the Euphrates when dawns were young.
I danced in the Nile when I was old.
I built my hut near the Congo and it lulled me to sleep.
I looked upon the Nile and raised the pyramids above it.
I heard the singing of the Mississippi when Abe Lincoln
         went down to New Orleans, and I've seen its muddy
         bosom turn all golden in the sunset.

I've known rivers:
Ancient, dusky rivers.

My soul has grown deep like the rivers.

{picture perfect} Essaouira

Essaouira, Morocco.

Digital photograph.
Copyright © 2007 Amy Elizabeth Brown.
Used with permission.