Literature Tuesday .... Where did the time go?

I had said previously that someday I would share some more of my silly poetry for a Literature Tuesday post. Here is it .... please be kind :)

Where did the time go?

     When did childish dreams end?

     When did worn out replace creative?

Where did the time go?

     Was it when I started counting calories?

     Was it when the last song played at the prom?

     Was it when my heart broke for the first time?

     Was it when my first dream came true?

Where did the time go?

     When did ambition become overworked and 
     underpaid?

     When did romance become an item on a to-do
     list?

Where did the time go?

     Was it when I got the first mortgage bill?

     Was it when I said “I do?”

     Was it when the children stole my sleep?

     Was it when my needs no longer came first?

Where did the time go?

     When did the end become closer than the
     beginning?

     When did the journey end?

Where did the time go?

Literature Tuesday .... my path

www.barnesandnoble.com/

I have not written a Literature Tuesday post in quite some time. The reason for this is I have primarily been reading text books; big, thick, small print, dry, textbooks. While they impart vast amounts of knowledge, literature they are not! 

Although Millon here came closest in his extensive history of personality disorders and the evolution-based personality theory he has developed to explain the Axis II disorders and their treatments. 

As I reviewed my last post so I could remember exactly what I wrote about (memory issues and lupus - probably my least favorite symptoms) I thought about the path my life has taken, which in turn reminded me of my favorite poem - the one I always use as my quote if I am asked for one. I went to Plymouth State College for a couple of years and was very excited to discover that Robert Frost had taught there and that I was taking my English classes in a building in which he lived. I was inspired (someday I may share some of the work I wrote while there - when I get over the embarrassment of what I wrote and am able to laugh at myself a little).  There were many of Frost's poems I fell in love with at the time: Mending Wall, A Brook in the City, Gathering Leaves, and One Step Backward Taken. But always, from the first moment my eyes fell upon the words I connected with the Road Not Taken. And while I can say without a doubt that the road not taken has led me on an interesting and wild journey, I have often wondered about the path I did not take, the one we never get to go back to. Then I shake my head and smile because if I had made a different choice, if I had followed the more worn path I wouldn't be who I am today, and I certainly would not want that. 

Frost House @ Plymouth State University
Where I took my English Classes!

The Road Not Taken
Robert Frost
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Robert Frost Statue @ Plymouth State University

Literature Tuesday ..... The Rise of the Governor & Lord of the Flies

I am back! It has been a long few months. The holidays and the winter cold I got after the holidays really took a lot out of me. As much as I wanted to write a blog I had neither the time, energy or ambition to do so. I actually just deleted all the posts I had started and failed to finish (since most of them were no longer relevant).

But I am back! I feel the spring coming on - we just set our clocks ahead and it is now still light on my way home from work. The winter blues are fading and everyday I feel a little more energetic. So lets be hopeful and see if I can keep up the momentum and begin to blog more regularly.

So ....... literature (one of my favorite subjects).

What seems like a very long time ago I wrote a blog entitled: What is literature? The purpose of that blog was to just make a statement about the fact that what is junk to one reader (dare I say - 50 Shades of Grey) others think is fabulous.

For my recent birthday my 6-year-old picked out a Walking Dead gift basket .... it included action figures, a tee-shirt, a hand-made birthday card with a picture of Rick Grimes on it and a book. The book is "The Rise of the Governor" by Robert Kirkman. It is not a great piece of literature .... it will not go down in the annals of Tennessee Williams or Kerouac or Steinbeck but it kept me enthralled. I am of course a HUGE fan of the Walking Dead (I think I may have mentioned that a time or two). And the book is a prequel. I am not going to go into what the book is about (I have some Dead fan friends and they have not read it yet) but I will tell you the end stunned me. I find it astounding that in a genre where I have read some of the comics and watched every episode of the television show I was still completely surprised by the unexpected ending of this book. It was so good that I read it in 24 hours, went to the store, purchased the next book "The Road to Woodbury" and finished that in 24 hours (just for disclosure - the Rise of the Governor was better - but both were good).

What makes "The Walking Dead" like crack .... the story. I can't stress enough that neither the comic, nor the show, nor the books, nor the "Talking Dead" (the talk show about the Walking Dead) are about zombies. All of them are about the people and about the human capacity to accept horror and stress and tragedy. I like to compare it to "Lord of the Flies."

Both stories are about what happens to humans when there are no rules. When there is no authority. When there is no governance or structure or hope. Sure, one was written in the 1950s and was about prepubescent boys and one is about the end of the world as we know it because of a zombie apocalypse. But in the end the stories are about power and evil and the ability of good and hope and innocence to overcome.

The Walking Dead it is about how good people lose their sense of self through loss. The hero of our story Rick Grimes goes from a sheriff who would help anyone, anywhere, anytime to someone who won't even help a lone hitchhiker trying desperately to survive (which he doesn't). It is the loss of family and friends that creates a cold hard character who only looks out for himself and his immediate family. It is a lot more complex and deep than that - but this is a simple blog and not a place where I can detail three seasons of a television show (but for some fun take a look at my page Lessons I Learned from the Walking Dead). Rick is still our hero - but certainly not the man he had been. If you follow the Lord of the Flies connection, Rick would be a combination of Ralph and Simon (to the point that Rick hallucinates as well - haunted by his dead wife and best friend).

Now fans of the show know that The Governor is the anti-hero. He is the evil of humanity all wrapped up in one character. Power hungry, violent for violence sake ... a narcissistic, egocentric, sociopath. The book chronicles how he became that way. How a regular guy in real life became evil in the face of the unthinkable. It is the story of anyone of us - we could all become The Governor in the end. If this were the Lord of the Flies, The Governor would be Jack Merridew. And while the television show seems to be about how Rick comes back from the abyss to rejoin humanity I anticipate that good will win and the character of The Governor will not see the light of season 4 (this is not a spoiler - just my opinion).

So while this is not a summary of the "The Rise of the Governor" it is a recommendation. If you would like things a little gory and a little horrific it is worth the price of admission. If you are already a Dead fan it is a must! I am looking forward to more of these novels coming out because I have to admit, as much as I like the story I am not a big comic book fan. But I suggest you read it after you look in the mirror - because The Governor, he really could be any of us.

 

 

 

 

On another note .... as I was looking for photos for this blog on AMC.com I saw a comment that asks the question: "Do you think Rick is still in the coma and this is all a dream?" Interesting question. Dead fans feel free to leave your thoughts on this one!

 

Literature Tuesday ..... The Christmas Bells

Shortly before Halloween I found a book that I purchased for story time to share with the 6-year-old: The Night Before Halloween, by: Natasha Wing. It was one of those kids books that you read with a grin and then think to yourself "why didn't I think of that!"

'Twas the night before Halloween,

and all through the house,

all the creatures were stirring,

except for the mouse.

The monsters had gathered

to plan and prepare,

for the trick-or-treaters

who would soon be there.

So after Halloween I looked and sure enough she had also written: The Night Before Thanksgiving.

The turkey went in.

And as more cousins came,

I laughed and I shouted

and called them by name.

"Hi Danny! Hi Donny! Hi Paula & Vickie!

Hi Casey! Hi Cathy! Hi Brenda & Ricky!

Come in from the porch.

Step into the hall.

Now come & play, come & play,

come & play all!"

So now that Thanksgiving is over we have begun reading the holiday classic: The Night Before Christmas.

 

He sprang to his sleigh,

to his team gave a whistle,

And away they all flew;

like the down of a thistle.

But I heard him exclaim,

ere he drove out of sight,

"Happy Christmas to all.

And to all a good night."

 

 

 

 

Over the years I have read a lot of Christmas stories. Some were cute and cuddly like Santa Mouse by: Michael Brown. Some always made me cry but I had to read them, like The Little Match Girl by: Hans Christian Anderson. And some were just classics like The Grinch Who Stole Christmas by: Dr. Seuss.

 

 

I could go on forever talking about the stories that remind me of being a kid at Christmas. I remember very vividly my mom reading me a chapter a night of this book called Uncle Wiggily Stories (It took me forever to find a link to this one)! But I remember every night she read a chapter I wanted her to read more! I still have this book and I have read it to my older son and I will read it to my youngest!

 

I have read all the classics:

The Gift of the Magi

The Nutcracker

A Christmas Carol

The Polar Express

And of course I have read the Bible story of the birth of Jesus!

 

 

But then in college, when I was trying to search for the meaning of life, the meaning of religion, the meaning of everything I learned to appreciate poetry - which I think is something that people should strive to appreciate and not necessarily understand. We covered poetry by Frost and Dickinson and Milton. The poem The Shivering Begger by Robert Graves made me giggle more than it should have.

 

But by the end of that semester I had come across Henry Wadsworth Longfellow and he was the one who reminded me what Christmas was about - it is about having faith in man when all evidence shows that you should not. So the last Christmas literature I will share today is the Christmas Bells.  

 

 

Christmas Bells

By: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

I heard the bells on Christmas Day

Their old, familiar carols play,

     And wild and sweet

     The words repeat

Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

And thought how, as the day had come,

The belfries of all Christendom

      Had rolled along

      The unbroken song

Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

Till ringing, singing on its way,

The world revolved from night to day,

     A voice, a chime,

     A chant sublime

Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

Then from each black, accursed mouth

The cannon thundered in the South,

     And with the sound

     The carols drowned

Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

It was as if an earthquake rent

The hearth-stones of a continent,

     And made forlorn

     The households born

Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

And in despair I bowed my head;

"There is no peace on earth," I said;

      "For hate is strong,

      And mocks the song

Of peace on earth, good-will to men!"

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:

"God is not dead, nor doth He sleep;

     The Wrong shall fail,

     The Right prevail,

With peace on earth, good-will to men."                                                                                               

Literature Tuesday ..... What is literature?

I have been writing a literature Tuesday blog for awhile. It started with Shel Silverstein and has included: Tennyson, Maya and some work by yours truly (which honestly probably should not be considered literature).

Which brought me to today's question: What is literature? As with anything I am unsure of I started with Google and came across this: The quest to discover a definition for “literature” is a road that is much travelled, though the point of arrival, if ever reached, is seldom satisfactory.  Most attempted definitions are broad and vague, and they inevitably change over time.  In fact, the only thing that is certain about defining literature is that the definition will change. 

Not really answering my question so I decided to search further.

What I found was Jean-Paul Satre: "What is writing? Why does one write? For whom?" Questions about literature. Poets, Satre tells us "But if he dwells upon words, as does the painter with colors and the musician with sounds, that does not mean that they have lost all signification in his eyes. Indeed, it is signification alone which can give words their verbal unity. Without it they are frittered away into sounds and strokes of the pen." Wow - that was deep. Not sure I truly understand it, but it is deep. Having only researched this briefly I think he is trying to say that with painting and music and poetry you can only create replications of the world - but with prose, with literature, you can use language to create a reality instead of just a copy of it. You can describe a situation in such a way that it brings about emotion.

I am not sure I agree with Mr. Satre, but that is what I got from what I read of his great definition of literature. Obviously his words did not create much emotion for me - because I was bored by page 50. So, I continue my search.

Dictionary.com gives me a clearer picture I suppose: "writings in which expression and form, in connection with ideas of permanent and universal interest, are characteristic or essential features, as poetry, novels, history, biography, and essays."

This intrigued me ... ideas of permanent and universal interest. Does this mean that Hitler's political manifesto Mein Kampf should be considered literature? It is still widely read, by some so that history does not repeat itself ... by some to make sure that it does.  In twenty years will people still read Twilight and think wow - that was a great story? If one of the requirements of literature is that it be permanent, how long must we wait for a piece of writing to be considered literature. My father read "Carrie" by Stephen King in 1974 and loved it. I read it an loved it. My son has read it and loves it. Does this make it literature. On the other hand Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte was apparently not very popular when it was written but now it is considered literature which many college students are required to read (I hated it). So who decided it was literature that we must all read.

I like a story - one that I can read and fall into. One that paints pictures in my head (which is why I am not a big fan of the new practice of making movies out of "modern literature" before people have had a chance to actually read), the movie of course is never as good as the book (or at least it shouldn't ever be). My search is brief and inadequate I fear. I still have not created a clear definition in my head of the criteria by which I should judge what I read. I hate to make the connection but I think my definition of literature is akin to the Supreme Court definition of pornography in 1964 "I know it when I see it."

For future "Literature Tuesdays" I think I will stick with sharing examples of what I like to read. You can determine whether or not you agree that it is literature. I would love to hear your opinion!

Addendum to Literature Tuesday:
I was searching for quotes from the Bible, specifically from the Book of Ruth to prove a point to a friend on Facebook. I was too lazy to go downstairs and get my Bible so ..... you guessed it ..... I googled it. I found this page which ironically is about the Bible as literature:

"We might say that literature does not tell about characters and actions and concepts but presents characters in action. Literature not only presents experience but interprets it. The writer of literature selects and molds his material according to discernible viewpoints. Human experience is presented in such a way as to express, whether explicitly or by implication, a world view. Finally, literature is an interpretive presentation of experience in an artistic form. That is, the content of a work of literature is presented in the form of a novel, play, short story, poem, and so forth…A working definition of literature, then, is that it is an interpretive presentation of experience in an artistic form."

 

Family Friday ..... the words we teach our children

I have been thinking a lot about language. It started the other day when I heard a news report about Newt Gingrich referring to President Obama as the "food stamp" president and the implications that has on the topic of race in our country.

Then last night the 5-year-old brought home the greatest book "Wild About Books" by Judy Sierra. It was the greatest play on words and used "big" words in a way that children want to know what they mean. We read it so many times last night that my throat hurt:

"As the cheetah's new novel began to take shape,

He read chapters each night to the Barbary ape;

And although the gazelle couldn't spell very well,

Like everyone else, she had stories to tell.

Imagine the hippo's enormous surprise

When her memoir was given the Zoolitzer Prize."

And this morning a friend shared a blog on Facebook: "Being Retarded"

It really made me start to think about how we teach our children to communicate. I hear it everyday -

"That is so gay!"

"You are so retarded"

"She is such a douche"

And don't even get me started on the "N" word!

When I was a kid I was called a lot of names. I was different and sat alone a lot. There were a lot of reasons for that and I have gotten over them. But I remember very clearly coming home from school crying and my mother saying:

"Just tell them sticks and stones may break my bones but names will never hurt me"

I tried it and the name calling got worse because now they wanted to make me hurt. And words can hurt!

When I was a kid bullying was about hitting. It was about fear of being physically hurt. Grown-ups, school officials, the police were not interested in name calling. They were not interested in groups of popular kids communicating their disdain for the "weak" in hurtful words. I recently read an article on verbal bullying and it was interesting to me that we now have a word for it.

But the reality is parents allow it. Parents use those phrases. Parents allow children to watch "reality" television that use those words. Parents allow their children to use those words.

I heard a small child once call another small child a "dumb ass" and instead of reprimanding the child and telling her not to use bad words or call another child names; the mother giggle and thought it was cute. The child then ran around the table singing "your a dumb ass."

I believe in free speech! I am a liberal after all. I believe that when I am out with my children and I hear this type of language I can use it as a learning moment and explain why that is not appropriate, why it is hurtful (usually loud enough for the other parent to hear me - I admit to being passive/aggressive). I believe that I have the right to turn off a television show I find offensive. I have the right to not allow my child to watch a show I think has hurtful language and poor treatment of others. That is my job as a parent. It is a job that I love!!!

Parenting is a job that gets harder everyday ..... televisions, Internet, smart phones ..... we have less and less control over what information our children consume when they are not sitting directly in front of us. And then there are the children in school whose parents think it is cute to hear their child say the word "dumb ass." Those children have much more influence on my children then television ever will.

So I combat the language issue in my home - when we talk about each other, when we talk about others. I teach that words can be as hard as stone .... and they should be thrown about with caution ..... after all, we are all people who live in glass houses.

Maybe if I organize the blog ..... I can organize life!

So, here I am. 7:00 am at the office prepping for class (oh wait, I am writing a blog). But that is me. Organized on paper, not so good in practice. One of the things I blogged about last time was the "lupus fog." It is that feeling you get when you walk into a room and can't remember why you are there ..... but I get it all the time. So there are lots of lists and notes in my life. The problem is I usually forget to read them. So, I like to have things neatly ordered. Which is why this blog can be so frustrating while at the same time cathartic. There are so many ideas for good blogs running through my head I don't know which one to write about first. On my way to work this morning I figured out if I had a topic to write about on a particular day it would help me focus. So here is my plan:

• Medical Monday - there are lots of cool things that happen in the medical world, and some not so cool things. On Mondays I will investigate.
• Literature Tuesday - I love to read and I enjoy writing. So on Tuesdays I will share some passages I love and maybe share some of my own work.
• Wordless Wednesday - I explained this one last Wednesday
• Thoughtful Thursday - this is my spot for current events (usually political). It is helpful if I just pick one event, or one thing going on in the world and talk about it.
• Family Friday - this is not just my family ..... helpful hints, recipes, family living
• Wacky Weekend - I can write about anything I want on the weekend

So, this is my plan. We will see how it works. If I have a plan here, maybe it will help me keep to my plans in my everyday life and tackle some of the to-do lists I have piling up!

Today is Literature Tuesday!



c/o http://www.wbur.org/



On the way to work this morning I was listening to readings from a new collection of poems by Shel Silverstein. I remember his work, it got me interested in poetry as a child and made me want to write my own.

Some of the poems are sad, and I didn't understand them as a child, I just liked the way the words rhyme. I liked the art and the way the poems flowed; to find out today that Shel Silverstein was a perfectionist about this sort of thing made me smile. But most of his poems are just silly. And so today I will share a few that make me smile and think.

EVERY THING ON IT

I asked for a hot dog

With everything on it,

And that was my big mistake.

'Cause it came with a parrot,

A bee in a bonnet,

A wristwatch, a wrench, and a rake.

It came with a goldfish,

A flag, and a fiddle.

A frog, and a front porch swing,

And a mouse in a mask -

That's the last time I ask

For a hot dog with everything.

Forgotten Language

Once I spoke the language of flowers,

Once I understood each word the caterpillar said,

Once I smiled in secret at the gossip of starlings,

And shared a conversation with the housefly

in my bed.

Once I hear and answered all the questions

of the crickets,

And jointed the crying of each falling dying

flake of snow,

Once I spoke the language of flowers . . . .

How did it go?

How did it go?

Whatif

Last night, while I lay thinking here,

some Whatifs crawled inside my ear

and pranced and partied all night long

and sang their same old Whatif song:

Whatif I'm dumb in school?

Whatif they've closed the swimming pool?

Whatif I get beat up?

Whatif there's poison in my cup?

Whatif I start to cry?

Whatif I get sick and die?

Whatif I flunk that test?

Whatif green hair grows on my chest?

Whatif nobody likes me?

Whatif a bolt of lightning strikes me?

Whatif I don't grow talle?

Whatif my head starts getting smaller?

Whatif the fish won't bite?

Whatif the wind tears up my kite?

Whatif they start a war?

Whatif my parents get divorced?

Whatif the bus is late?

Whatif my teeth don't grow in straight?

Whatif I tear my pants?

Whatif I never learn to dance?

Everything seems well, and then

the nighttime Whatifs strike again!

The Little Boy and the Old Man

Said the little boy, "Sometimes I drop my spoon."

Said the old man, "I do that too."

The little boy whispered, "I wet my pants."

"I do that too," laughed the little old man.

Said the little boy, "I often cry."

The old man nodded, "So do I."

"But worst of all," said the boy, "it seems

Grown-ups don't pay attention to me."

And he felt the warmth of a wrinkled old hand.

"I know what you mean," said the little old man.