Setting Sail

It's been a summer of travel for us - I've been home a week from a trip to Upper Michigan. (One reason why I didn't post a poem last week - the drive home wore me out!) Now, I'm preparing for the next trip - setting sail on Monday for an Alaskan cruise. We are excited!

Back to the UP (Upper Peninsula of Michigan) - one of the stops we make when we visit Gladstone is to a wonderful little used bookstore called Frigate Books. The owner homeschooled her children, has a wonderful eye for great books, and is always patient with my children's enthusiasm and my lack of attention to details (like having enough cash to pay for our purchases).

This summer, I asked about poems from local poets - looking for poems to share for Poetry Wednesday. As we discussed poems, she shared with me the poem behind the name of her store.

So - as I prepare to set sail, both literally & figuratively (since I'm about to grab a book and head for bed) - here is the inspiration behind Frigate Books. If you're ever in Gladstone, Michigan, be sure to stop in. After lunch, though, because she works at K-Mart in Escanaba until 11 a.m.

There is no frigate like a book
to take us lands away

Nor any coursers like a page
Of prancing Poetry -

This Traverse may the poorest take
without oppress of Toll -

how frugal is the Chariot
that bears the Human Soul.
-Emily Dickinson

(by the way - the picture above is an actual frigate, courtesy of flikr)

Recovering, Remembering, Preparing

The children and I drove back from upper Michigan nearly a week ago. I have finally downloaded the pictures from our trip - a sure sign that I've recovered from the long drive.

One of our favorite activities in the UP is going on an adventure. My sister started the tradition a couple of years ago with a trip to Fayette, a restored iron smelting town. Now, my children eagerly anticipate each year's adventure.

This year, we went to Marquette, on Lake Superior. We visited the Marquette Maritime Museum & Lighthouse. It was beautiful, interesting and so fun!

Walking to the lighthouse

This was the coolest thing - a real periscope from a US submarine installed in the museum. The views were amazing - and so clear!

A view from the lighthouse of Marquette Harbor.

The Marquette Harbor Lighthouse. Still operational, but fully automated.

If Nathaniel does not become a zoologist, he may become a geologist.
He finds the most fascinating rocks. We had to leave this one behind because it was US Government property.

one of the many attempts to get a picture of me and the children.

A great picture of my sister, Carrie, & her boyfriend, Omar.
It helps when there are no children.

The streets were full for the famous Gladstone July 4th parade.

We got there early for front row seats. Don't they look excited?

But by evening, a storm had moved in. Our sparklers were rained out and so were the fireworks.

The next day, we decided to try a mini-adventure - a trip to Sand Point Lighthouse in nearby Escanaba. It's no longer functional, so we could go to the very top.

Beautiful view! (honestly, I was nervous about the laundry I had hung on the line...)

Finally, a picture of me and the children where all cooperated! What? You can't see us? Oh, we're that dark spot to the right of the door to the tower. Don't we look lovely?

Those clouds did hold rain, and fireworks were rained out for the 2nd time. So were our sparklers. We decided to pull the car out of the garage, and celebrate the 4th inside with our sparklers, a day late.

We did have fun - especially with Carrie & Omar. Even without Papa, Nana and Daddy.

Now, it's time to prepare for Alaska, camps, etc. I have a whole lot of laundry to do (hopefully the broken washer will be fixed tonight or tomorrow), then a whole lot of packing.

It's been a crazy busy - but oh-so-much-fun - summer!

Son of Hamas

It is truly amazing that Mosab Hassan Yousef is not dead. By all accounts, he should be - and he explains why in his book Son of Hamas: A Gripping Account of Terror, Betrayal, Political Intrigue, and Unthinkable Choices, written with Ron Brackin.

Yousef is the son of one of the founders of Hamas, a terrorist organization founded in the West Bank of Israel by Palestinians. He tells of his childhood, teen years, and young adult years living in the West Bank. He tells of his own imprisonment and how Israel's Shin Bet successfully recruited him to gather intelligence on Hamas actions, plans, and leadership.

What really amazes me is how Yousef, as he matures, finds himself diametrically opposed to his father's beliefs, and yet remains so intensely loyal to him. Yousef's father is alive today because of Yousef's involvement with Shin Bet. And Yousef is alive today because his father has refused to disown him, even after his betrayal of his father's work and religion.

Son of Hamas is an amazing story, well worth reading. It's not only a gripping personal story, but also gives great insight into the struggle for peace in the Middle East.

The House was Quiet...

As I was frantically thinking of everything I needed to pack for our week-long trip to 'da UP, eh?' (upper peninsula of Michigan), my eye caught the cable I need to attach my camera to my computer.

"I don't need to take that," I told myself. "I'm not bringing my computer."

Then a client called. "I need you to write some letters for me. How soon can you get them written?"

I gulped, "uh - Wednesday?"

"That's great," she said.

"So," thought I, "I am bringing my computer."

That did not help me remember that important little cord. So - pictures of the UP will have to wait until I am home.

I am writing from one of my children's favorite places to visit in the UP. "The beach?" you ask.

Nope.

"The way cool 'Kids' Kingdom' park down by the lake," is your next guess.

Nope.

The Gladstone Public Library. You are surprised, I can tell. But it's true! The first place they asked to visit when we arrived on Monday afternoon was the library.

What's so special about the Gladstone Public Library? Not much, except it's in Gladstone, and it's across the street from Grandma's house. Plus, I let them pop into the library whenever they want. Without me.

They love it.

We are staying at my grandmother's house, which is for sale. (We were, in fact, kicked out last night for a showing. We just went across the street to the school playground.) The house is practically empty, and while we do have electricity and running water, there is no cable TV, no telephone, no internet.

It is very, very quiet. And wonderful. We are listening to lots of audiobooks, reading lots of books, walking around town and spending afternoons at the beach. We're playing games in the evening after dinner, and after the kids are in bed, I read on the porch until it is too dark to see. Then I go to bed.

It's lovely. The only thing that would be better is if my husband could be here with me. But he had to work. At his office. No tele-commuting for him!

In honor of Poetry Wednesday, I found this poem here at the Gladstone Public Library.

The House was Quiet and the World was Calm
Wallace Stevens

The house was quiet and the world was calm.
The reader became the book; and summer night

Was like the conscious being of the book.
The house was quiet and the world was calm.

The words were spoken as if there was no book;
Except that the reader leaned above the page,

Wanted to lean, wanted much most to be
The scholar to whom his book is true, to whom

The summer night is like a perfection of though.
The house was quiet because it had to be.

The quiet was part of the meaning, part of the mind;
The access of perfection to the page.

And the world was calm. The truth in a calm world,
In which there is no other meaning, itself

Is calm, itself is summer and night, itself
Is the reader leaning late and reading there.

Click here to read more poetry.

Profits Aren't Everything...

I was browsing my library's "New Book" shelves, looking for an interesting business book to read, when I came across Profits Aren't Everything, They're the Only Thing by George Cloutier with Samantha Marshall.

What a provocative title, right?

The subtitle is even more intriguing: No-Nonsense Rules from the Ultimate Contrarian and Small Business Guru.

I wondered exactly how contrarian George Cloutier really is - so I picked up the book.

I almost put it down again when I glanced at the fly-leaf. It gives some of his rules:

The best family business has one member.
Weekends are for working, not playing golf or coaching.
Never pay your vendors on time.
Wear your control freak badge with pride.
Quit denial: if your business is failing during a recession, it's your fault.

Which of these rules rubs you the wrong way? None of them? Well, there are fifteen rules in this short book, so I'm sure one of them will make you mad.

Even so, I would encourage you to read this book - especially if you are a business owner. You will not agree with everything Cloutier says, but you may end up agreeing with more of his rules than you anticipate after you reading through his reasoning.

And even if you don't, he might make you mad enough to prove him wrong - which would only help your business. That would be worth the read.

Chicago

Today, we had planned to go to Great America. We woke up to thunderstorms and it rained all morning.

The children asked to go to the library, so we loaded up our books & dashed through the rain to the library. I thought, while I was there, I'd quick find a book with a poem about rain in it for poetry wednesday.

Ya, right.

I glanced through the children's poetry section. I looked through the adult poetry section. I should have googled it or something. I came home with The Oxford Book of American Verse (copyright 1950), because it was thick, and I figured I could find something about rain.

Well, I did! Something incomprehensible, written by Mr. Edward Taylor, who lived 1645-1729.

So, on went the hunt. Now it's quite sunny and the children are dressed for the beach. A poem about rain didn't seem to fit.

Then I found this one from Carl Sandburg. I have never lived in the city itself, but I appreciate it from afar (ie, the suburbs).

(Side note: I visited my sister's office downtown a few years ago and her colleague asked me if I was in from out-of-town. I said, "Well, I guess I am if you consider the suburbs 'out-of-town'." She laughed and answered, "Yes, actually, I do!"

this is for my sister - who loves the city and the UP with equal fervor)

Chicago
Carl Sandburg

Hog Butcher for the World,
Tool Maker, Stacker of Wheat,
Player with Railroads and the Nation's Freight Handler;
Stormy, husky, brawling,
City of the Big Shoulders:

They tell me you are wicked and I believe them, for I have seen your painted women under the gas lamps luring the farm boys.

They tell me you are crooked and I answer: Yes, it is true I have seen the gunman kill and go free to kill again.

And they tell me you are brutal and my reply is: On the faces of women and children I have seen the marks of wanton hunger.

And having answered so I turn once more to those who sneer at this my city, and I give them back the sneer and say to them:

Come and show me another city with lifted head singing so proud to be alive and course and strong and cunning.

Flinging magnetic curses amid the toil of piling job on job, here is a told bold slugger set vivid against the little soft cities;

Fierce as a dog with tongue lapping for action, cunning as a savage pitted against the wilderness,
Bareheaded,
Shoveling,
Wrecking,
Planning,
Building, breaking rebuilding,

Under the smoke, dust all over his mouth, laughing with white teeth,

Under the terrible burden of destiny laughing as a young man laughs,

Laughing even as an ignorant fighter laughs who has never lost a battle,

Bragging and laughing that under his wrist is the pulse,
and under his ribs is the heart of the people,

Laughing!

Laughing the stormy, husky, brawling laughter of Youth, half-naked, sweating, proud to be Hog Butcher, Tool Maker, Stacker of Wheat, Player with Railroads and Freight Handler to the Nation.

Mosquito

This morning I sent three of my children off to day camp. (whew!)

My oldest was waiting for his friend to come pick him up for a trip to Great America (lucky kid!), so I decided to wait outside with him and get at least a little weeding done. It was on my list, and I wasn't quite ready to start writing (which is really the number one priority while the house is quiet).

All that to say - I hate mosquitoes. They are everywhere. As soon as my son was gone, I dashed inside, ready to do anything else that would not involve fighting mosquitoes.

Which makes my pick for poetry wednesday just a tad ironic. I guess I feel a need to seek out another perspective on the dreadfully annoying insect that I swear is a result of the Fall (Genesis 3) - God did not create mosquitoes. They must have had some other purpose in the Garden of Eden, although I cannot think of what would have been.

So here it is: another perspective on that dreaded insect.

mosquito
valerie worth

There is more
To a mosquito
Than her sting
Or the way she sings
In the ear:

There are her wings
As clear
As windows,
There are the sleek
Velvets on her back;

She bends six
Slender knees,
And her eye, that
Sees the swatter,
Glitters.

On the Attack

I feel I have to preface this poem with a disclaimer.

I am a basketball fan, but I have not followed women's professional basketball (WNBA).

However, when I was looking for basketball poems, I ran across this book about professional women basketball players and several of the poems in it are just fantastic.

So, since the WNBA season is going on right now, and since I'm waiting for the children to completely finish their chores so we can go to the beach (and I think technically they are now waiting for me), I will share with you this poem about Lisa Leslie, a WNBA player for the LA Sparks.

On The Attack: Lisa Leslie

By Charles R. Smith, Jr.

Graceful gazelle

gallops and glides

fast past defenders

with effortless strides.

Sly and swift

and standing tall,

eyes on alert,

nose sniffing for ball.

Positioned in paint

ready to score,

on misses and bricks

bouncing from boards.

Two points scored

on rebound and putback,

using animal instincts

while attacking the rack.

Events Too Many to Mention....

Life has been going full-speed ahead recently! Noteworthy events include:

You might think by this pile of hair I shaved a dog.
Nope.

Just gave the Leichty boys haircuts on Saturday.

Here they are after their cuts.
(scroll down a few posts to see the 'before' shot)

On Sunday (as in yesterday), we met my family in the city for an afternoon together to celebrate Nana's (my mom's) birthday.

Since this is a public blog, I won't reveal her age.
(I bet you'll never guess!)

Doesn't she look great?

We were supposed to go to the Lincoln Park Zoo.
Then it rained. No, it poured!
Luckily, I have a well-connected sister (and brother, lest he nail me for not crediting him too) who found us a beautiful brownstone to shelter in and celebrate Nana's birthday.

Here she is with every last one of her grandkids - all eight.

And lest you think they are actually as angelic as they look,
I had to promise the following picture as a reward for looking so angelic in the first.

Nana, of course, takes it all in stride.
Doesn't she look serene?

(Quick story, because it's so classic and so I don't forget it: Ben (in the blue shirt) was playing hard with Lydia (in the pink headband & pink shirt) at the park. He kept calling her "Olivia! Olivia!" and his mom overheard.
"Ben," Molly admonished, "your cousin's name is Lydia, not Olivia. You need to get it right!" Lydia overheard this conversation and stepped in.
"Oh, it doesn't matter. I don't care what he calls me as long as it starts with an 'L'. "
Oh. my. word. We laughed our tails off!
In case you're wondering, they are both the 3rd-born. Oh so much in common...)


Now, the biggest news of the weekend, the week, the month (at least so far!) is....

Isaac learned to ride his bike today!

Isaac tells me he walked his bike around a little, sitting on the seat. Then, the minute he decided to put his feet on the pedals, "I was awesome Mom!"

This boy has no problem with humility... hm.

Here he is with his coaches - and good ones they were.

It is quite an accomplishment for him - he was quite fearful of learning to ride.

And now - just look at him!

Too Big to Fail

I quite surprised myself two weeks ago when I picked up Too Big to Fail by Andrew Ross Sorkin. It's a huge, huge book - 544 pages (including Acknowledgements) and about 50 pages of footnotes and bibliography after that.

More surprising to me was that I thought I might be interested in the topic - the front of the book states "The inside story of how Wall Street and Washington fought to save the financial system - and themselves."

A dry topic for someone who admits no financial acumen, nor interest in Wall Street.

I remember shrugging, thinking, "well, I'll read the first chapter & if it's boring, I'll return it."

Now, it's two weeks later, and I've not only read the first chapter, but I've read the entire 544 pages (I have to remember to write that down for the summer reading program!)

If you haven't guessed already, let me tell you how this book absolutely engaged my attention. This is not a dry book, discussing derivatives, securities, credit loans, etc. and how they brought down Wall Street.

All of the above are mentioned - you cannot write a book about Wall Street without mentioning those mysterious words. But Sorkin does a masterful job of making the reader understand, not the intricacies of these words, but the implications of these words. And the implications are what caused havoc in our economic system.

Sorkin focuses on the people involved in the dramatic events of 2008 - starting when JP Morgan bought Bear Stearns. I remember when Lehman Brothers failed - but I wasn't paying attention to events on Wall Street at the time. It doesn't affect me much - I felt (perhaps still feel) quite distanced from the events in New York & Washington... and can appreciate even more fully why Warren Buffet maintains his office in Omaha instead of New York.

I'll admit, I still don't understand why the CEOs of Lehman, Morgan Stanley & Goldman Sachs despise the short sellers - and why short selling stock is so detrimental to a firm - but I do feel I have a better understanding of the dramatic events of the fall of 2008 and a better understanding of who are some of the big 'players' on Wall Street.

And, I spent time enjoying a well-written book.

The End of Everything

We are wrapping up our school year in the Leichty house. It's not technically the end of everything, but it is the end of everything 6th, 4th, 2nd & 1st grade.

I am having a hard time wrapping my mind around the fact that my oldest child no longer qualifies for the children's programs at the library. Now he must register for the summer reading program at the Adult Reference Desk. And if there's a library program he wants to participate in, he qualifies for the Teen programs.

YIKES! When did this happen??

I just finished reading Stoneheart, a book he's going to read for the Middle School book club. He was reluctant to sign up for it, because he wasn't sure he wanted to go to a book club without me. And he wanted me to read it first to make sure it was OK for him to read.

(BTW: it is, I enjoyed it, and I'll write a review of it later on my kidsbooksthatrock.com blog)

sigh

I guess I am still important in his life.

The last book we enjoyed together for school was The Hobbit. I'll admit - I was chicken to read the whole thing out loud, so we requested the audio book via inter-library loan. We finished it this morning - it was wonderful. Rob Inglis read it and did a masterful job. I'm tempted to buy a copy for our family because I know we will enjoy it again and again.

At the end of The Hobbit, as Bilbo approaches his home after his huge adventure, he makes up this poem:

Roads go ever ever on,
Over rock and under tree,
By caves where never sun has shone,
By streams that never find the sea;
Over snow by winter sown,
And through the merry flowers of June,
Over grass and over stone,
And under mountains in the moon.

Roads go ever ever on
Under cloud and under star,
Yet feet that wandering have gone
Turn at last to home afar.
Eyes that fire and sword have seen
And horror in the halls of stone
Look at last on meadows green
And trees and hills they long have known.

Life has a way of changing us - I hope mostly for the better. This homeschooling journey we've embarked on has certainly changed me - and again I add - hopefully for the better.

That said, I am looking forward to a great summer break - I think as heartily as Bilbo was looking forward to his own hobbit-hole.

And I am also looking forward to our next adventure - as we start 7th, 5th, 3rd & 2nd come August. But let's not get ahead of ourselves!

forever brothers

I realized this week that I have several recent pictures of the girls together, but none of the boys together. And I also realized I have been neglecting my "Front Door Friday" pictures for the past three weeks. Having children becoming sick does something to your schedule. You forget things.

The good news is that everyone is healthy - finally! And so we have all been enjoying the beach, counting down the days left of school (only three!), and looking forward to "a very, very busy June and July," according to Nathaniel.

For the record - he is right. We have plans about every other week - Camp Agape for the kids (and some alone time for me - Anna said to me last week, "Mom, won't it be so strange to be here by yourself when we go to Camp Agape? I mean, you are with us all the time. You won't know what to do!" "Oh, honey, you're right, it'll be weird without you. I'm not sure what I'll do with all of you gone," I answered, trying not to grin from ear to ear. I love my kids, but I am looking forward to a short, sweet break that week!)...

Where was I? Oh yes, a week in da UP, eh? (upper Michigan for those in the dark), then a couple weeks at home to prepare for

drum roll, please.....

an Alaskan cruise! Glen and I are going by ourselves - if you can call traveling with Glen's co-workers alone - and leaving the kids in the very capable hands of my parents and Camp Agape.

Now, I have to stop because my six-year-old is reading what I'm writing as I type it. He can read much better than he likes to admit.

And he loves his older brother very much - more than he likes to admit. Can't you see the love?

Happy weekend!

I am Nujood, Age 10 and Divorced

Who could not pick up a small book with such a provocative title? I Am Nujood, Age 10 and Divorced is written by Nujood Ali, with Delphine Minoui. I could not pass it up when I saw it on the library shelf, and I'm glad I didn't.

Minoui helps Nujood tell the story of her childhood, starting with some strange happenings in her remote village in Yemen which resulted in moving to the city with her family. There are many things in her childhood Nujood does not understand - including why she was married off to a man from her home village when she was only nine. She fights it with all her being, and eventually convinces her husband to take her back to the city to visit her family. There, she finds the courage to escape, go to the courthouse, speak to a judge, and ask for a divorce.

Chaos ensues, but all Nujood wants is to go home to her mother and her sisters and live out her childhood. She wants to go to school and learn to read.

Through the course of the divorce trial, we learn more about what happened to force her family to flee the country for the city, and we learn other tragic secrets of her family.

I Am Nujood is compassionately written, helping us understand the forces at work in Yemen culture.

Although Nujood has lived a lifetime in her short life, her story is not done. I look forward to hearing how she fares in her attempt to regain her childhood in the midst of the world-wide media attention she's already received, and if she's able to reach her goal of becoming a lawyer.

The Red Hen

I harbor, deep in the back of my mind, a secret desire to raise chickens. I continually talk myself out of it - I hear they're messy, loud, a lot of work. Plus, we have spotted coyotes in our yard, not to mention the raccoons.

But I really, really love farm-fresh eggs and I think selling eggs would be a good little business for my kids.

Glen would never agree, so my now not-so-secret desire to raise chickens will stay a desire.

Instead, I will share this fun little poem I found in Eric Carle's Animals, Animals:

The Red Hen

She turned her head to this side;
She turned her head to that.
Looking round for tidbits,
Juicy ones and fat.

Scritchy-scratch went Red Hen's feet:
Nib-nob went her bill.
She ate of juicy tidbits,
Until she had her fill.

And then she flew into a nest
And laid an egg, and then.
With a cut-cut-cut, ca-dah-cut,
Flew off to eat again.

~James S. Tippett

Enjoy more poetry here: Poetry Wednesday

In the Garden

picture courtesy of Anna, from Chicago Botanical Gardens, 2009

I went to a business women's luncheon today. It was at a couple of storefronts in downtown Wauconda (and yes, we do have a few storefronts on Main Street).

As I was walking out of one of the stores, I spotted a framed page from a hymnal and stopped to see what song was framed.

I showed it to my mom - it was one of Grandma Sabourin's favorites (my dad's mom). I remember she had it sung at her and Grandpa's 40th anniversary celebration. (We weren't sure it was quite appropriate, but it was her favorite!)

We sang it at her funeral.

I thought of her today, when I saw the song, so thought I'd share it with you.

In the Garden
I come to the garden alone,
While the dew is still on the roses;
And the voice I hear,
falling on my ear;
The Son of God discloses.

And He walks with me,
and He talks with me,
And He tells me I am His own,
And the joy we share
as we tarry there,
None other
has ever
known.

He speaks and the sound of his voice
Is so sweet the birds hush their singing,
And the melody
that He gave to me,
Within my heart is ringing.

And He walks with me,
and He talks with me,
And He tells me I am His own,
And the joy we share
as we tarry there,
None other
has ever
known.

Poetry Wednesday

I Remembered My Camera!

Glen's parents came north to our house to help us around the yard on Saturday, and to celebrate Mother's Day on Sunday. I cannot believe that I remembered my camera!

Above, Grandma poses with the children in front of our freshly mown lawn.
After church Sunday, Glen treated all of us to my favorite restaurant - Girodano's Pizza. Yum!

FYI: this is stuffed pizza, not deep dish.
That, my friends, is a very important difference.

(So I don't have an ultra-fancy camera. When I was uploading this picture, I realized that Anna was slightly out of focus, but the Cubs' game is in perfect focus. This is for you, Omar.)

My very shaggy 12-year-old. He has visions of shoulder-length hair.
Glen has visions of clippers.

Igor Gustafski
(a long nickname for a little kid)

Poor Lydia Lynn.
She wasn't feeling well and church plus lunch out after was too much for her.

An infrequent indulgence. I love holidays!

And the piece de resistance - a new doorknob on the garage door!
It only happened because my mother-in-law insisted.
As it happened, changing it out involved a hammer, chisel,
a huge hole in the door, a trip to the hardware store for wood glue,
gluing the broken door piece back, and quite a bit of loud discussion.
I'm glad I was just watching.

I'm still getting used to it.
Thanks Juli! Best Mother's Day gift ever!

A week ago, most of my family participated in a talent show at our church. A couple of the teenagers organized the event, for which I am grateful. It gave my pianists a chance to practice performing, my dancers a chance to dance with their good friend, and my husband a chance to blend his voice with a men's quartet. (And, of course I have video, but no pictures! argh!)

I love that more adults participated this year. Not only the men's quartet, but a juggler and a poet. I made a new friend that night, a teacher by day and a writer/poet all other times.

Audrey Hessler shared a poem that night I enjoyed, so I asked her if I could publish it on my blog. She graciously agreed, and e-mailed me a copy. Thanks Audrey!

HEAVEN’S WAITING ROOM

by Audrey Marie Hessler

Is there a waiting room for heaven?

I have heard people say.

I have wondered the same question since,

I will live there someday.

Will I enter heaven’s gate and be

pointed toward a chair?

Will they point me over there saying,

“Please, take a seat somewhere.”

Will I enter one room and then be

whisked off to another?

Will I meet up with my grandparents?

Siblings? Father? Mother?

Will I catch up with my old friends who

went ahead of me, too?

Will we be waiting together in

a room of powder blue?

Will there be lots of magazines and

background music playing

While I’m with all these people and we’re

waiting . . . waiting . . . waiting?

Is there a waiting room for heaven?

I have heard people say.

I have wondered the same question since,

I will live there someday.

So one day I decided that I

would make it my clear task

To simply say a prayer to God, and

then plainly I would ask.

Well, I thought I felt the room shake with

loud laughter and great mirth.

Then I heard, “Yes, there’s a waiting room

for heaven—it’s called earth!”

poetry wednesday

Picture in My Mind

I have been trying to capture an elusive picture recently - a picture of my 6-year-old heartily laughing at a joke or antic. I can picture him, sitting on our couch, his short legs stretched out before him, his face still, hands folded in his lap, listening intently to a story I'm reading.

Then comes the funny part, and his blue eyes light up with pleasure, a hearty laugh rolling out of his wide open mouth, his head thrown back and shoulders shaking.

It is, my friends, a beautiful picture. A delightful picture. One that makes me want to laugh, cry and hug him all at the same time.

The camera is never nearby when the laugh comes - on one hand I think that's good. How can film capture the essence of his innocent, 6-year-old mirth? On the other hand, I wonder, "Will I remember? Will I be able to picture him this way when he is older?"

I always thought I'd never forget what my children were like when they were tiny. But life is full of so many memories, I cannot contain them all. I look at my albums and think, 'Who are these little people? Who is this cute little toddler, dressed in a sundress, with 20 necklaces around her neck, white dress gloves on her hands and a purse on her elbow - all with the paci in her mouth?'

I am thankful for my pictures, real & imaginary. So, today, I have a picture in my mind of 6-year-old Isaac, laughing with pleasure as he read to me this section from Dr. Suess's classic One fish two fish red fish blue fish:

Who is this pet?
Say!
He is wet.

You never yet
met a pet,
I bet,
as wet as they let
this wet pet get.

(how could you not laugh?)

poetry wednesday

Library

Here are some of the books in my family's library. But if I had a car, I would have gone to our wonderful library and taken a picture for you.

What? You've never been to the Wauconda Area Public Library? What a shame. I do think, and I am not kidding, it's the best library in the area. Even the state. Perhaps even the whole of the USA.

I am not exaggerating.

I love our library. When we lived in Florida, I would walk into the library there, and long for the Wauconda Area Public Library. The DVD collection is awesome, the book collection even better. Plus staff who have been there so long I remember them from my childhood - and they remember me too. Interlibrary loans come so quickly, the childrens' library not only houses books, but puppets you can check out, toys for the childrens' amusement, and of course computers.

What makes it even better now than when I was a child - the summer reading program is for all ages. Imagine that! I, as an adult, can participate in a summer reading program. That was my most favorite thing as a child. I do believe I literally cried the summer they told me I was too old for the summer reading program at the library.

In honor of my library, public and personal, I offer my poem for Poetry Wednesday (which, fittingly, comes from my personal library of school books: all the small poems and fourteen more by Valerie Worth)

library

No need even
To take out
A book: only
Go inside
And savor
The heady
Dry breath of
Ink and paper,
Or stand and
Listen to the
Silent twitter
Of a billion
Tiny busy
Black words.

Death by Meeting

Patrick Lencioni writes for business owners, and he's a good writer. I read his book The 3 Big Questions for the Frantic Family and wrote about it here. So when I came across his book Death by Meeting at the library recently, I knew that even if I couldn't use the ideas in his book, it would still be a good read.

And it is. Like Five Questions, Lencioni wrote it in story form, following a successful business owner who isn't quite as successful as he could be. The catalyst for change is a temporary employee, a friend of the family with an interesting education background. He uses his background to help the business rethink their meetings, meeting structure and meeting purpose, using film and television analogies.

Lencioni also includes an Executive Summary in the back of the book for those who want to skip the story and get down to the nitty-gritty.

If you are in a medium- to large-sized business, I would recommend reading this book. You might just avoid an early death brought on by too many meetings... or non-functioning meetings.