Tag Archives: life

Sep15

you win some, you lose some, though you’re not sure which one happened.

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i love everything about baby soccer. the babies, so cute in their jerseys, and shin guards and special shoes, are running up and down and off the field, looking for parents, saying hi to siblings and relatives who come to watch, stopping to pet a dog, following a shiny object, laying on the field crying,  shrieking occasionally, taking water breaks from the exhaustion of standing on a line, asking to go to the playground just over the fence, running for sudden bathroom breaks – the fun is endless. coach does his best, just trying to harness everyone into one area and make sure they have a shirt on. he is patient and kind and cares about his budding athletes.

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here, my grandbaby b scores a goal, and then the reactions come. she stares at it wondering what is going on, and other players respond accordingly; check for a boo-boo on a leg, hang on parents, turn their backs, stand and look down the field, and one even run towards her, after the fact. it is truly a sport unto it’s own. there is no ego, no celebration dance, just pure wonder. 

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Sep12

sloth and the art of possibility

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one of my favorite fund-raisers ever, sitting quietly at the register of my favorite local mexican street food carryout place.

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Tis not enough to help the feeble up, but to support them after.

William Shakespeare

 

 

 

 

Sep10

global warning.

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first parent note of the year – love it.  school is in, bring it kindergarten!

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Raising kids is part joy and part guerilla warfare.
Ed Asner

 

 

Sep7

kinder-ku

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stop crying, you are hurting my ‘ear-plums!’ – m

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first week back feelings

joy and tears rule kinder’s day

look to year ahead

 

 

Sep5

to sign own self be true –

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except for now and except for this lane and except for this orange barrel and except for who knows how long?

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in complex trains of thought signs are indispensable. – George Henry Lewes

 words are but the signs of ideas. – Samuel Johnson

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Sep4

the hills are alive….with the sound of squealing.

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     happy to welcome my kindergarten back yesterday, and not only the children, but the parents as well. i gain so much wisdom from them everyday.  one mother, returning with her 3rd young child, reminded me of how she’s able to get everyone dressed and off to school on time. i have always seen this process as a minor miracle, having had to deliver 3 young ones to school at one point in my own life.

     she told me she does the laundry and then simply dumps all of it into one giant pile. the kids then climb and all forage around it, until they are able to put an outfit together.  and that’s it, they are ready for the day. no stress, and always an adventure for all. i think this is brilliant.

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‘it’s better to have loved and lost than to do 40 pounds of laundry a week.’

– salvatore dali

Sep1

stories told here

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     had an interesting conversation with my friend. we took turns coming up with one word that defined each of us, and he immediately blurted out the following word that he felt was me: rigmarole.while i had a somewhat negative image of what this word meant, i always liked the sound of it and it was an interesting word to say the least. i decided to look it up for further clarification. after referring to a traditional source, the oxford english dictionary, i found that i rather liked the definition, appreciated the origin of the word, and finally, embraced it as my own. i took it to mean that i simply live life, with all of its complications, and i share my stories, and though not all are long and rambling, i’m quite happy with that. 

rigmarole

Syllabification: (rig·ma·role)

Pronunciation: /ˈrig(ə)məˌrōl/

noun [usually in singular]

  • a lengthy and complicated procedure: she went through the rigmarole of securing the front door
  • a long, rambling story or statement. 

Origin:

mid 18th century: apparently an alteration of ragman roll, originally denoting a legal document recording a list of offenses

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Stories are a communal currency of humanity. – Tahir Shah 

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Aug31

haiku for pam on her birthday

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missing her today

my sis my friend and she was

gone way too early

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Do not fear death… only the unlived life. You don’t have to live forever;

You just have to live. – Natalie Babbitt

Aug30

real buildings half curves

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      i love this building, stuck right in the heart of our bustling and modern downtown. each and every time i walk by, i am drawn in once again, as i encounter its beauty, and especially its ‘and a half’ address. each time, i feel as mesmerized by it as i felt the first time i ever laid eyes on it. 

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     a historic house known as ‘the shant’, (officially called “the hall of omicron”), it now serves as a meeting place for the university of michigan chapter of the delta kappa epsilon (DKE) fraternity, as well as the headquarters for the international fraternal organization and the gerald ford library.  

     architect william lebaron jenney, later known as the ‘father of the american skyscraper,’ designed the building. jenney came to ann arbor as a professor to found the architecture program at the university of michigan. the library is named after gerald ford, one of five presidents who were members of DKE. it houses books that were written by or about DKE brothers as well as memorabilia.

     according to A Century and a Half of DKE, a history of the fraternity, (founded in 1855, 10 years after the first frats came to the university of michigan), the building was used only for fraternity ritual in its early years. the cornerstone was laid in 1878 and construction was completed the following year. an exterior eight-foot high brick wall was added in 1901, increasing the building’s mysterious appearance. it was used only for late night meetings, the gas-lit interior enhancing the building’s eeriness. today, the building still sticks out as somewhat eerie, especially in comparison with its new surroundings. 

     i like to imagine the secret late-night meetings, the rituals, the ghosts of times past, that still inhabit this special ‘half’ place, caught somewhere in between the past and the present.  

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 ‘my address is like my shoes. it travels with me.’ –  mary harris jones

Aug28

balls out

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     day after day, i see him sitting on his front porch, hours at a time, as i walk downtown and back. always perched between the 2 white lions, and looking over his little kingdom – a perfect, green lawn, mowed just so, with soldier-straight rows of plants and flowers – everything manicured and dead-headed and edged and aligned and watered and fertilized. he wears a polo shirt, 3 buttons done up, always the color of a sherbet, neatly tucked into his crisply-ironed and belted shorts, and on his feet are spotless white socks and shoes. i see his sign, carefully hand-printed – ‘3 golf balls for 1 dollar.’  

     he always nods and smiles as i walk by, a silent sentinel. one day, i walk up to meet him, to buy something, to ask him his story. he slowly approaches me, a bit shy, and tells me i can search the basket to find the ‘best ones’ and then just come back to the porch to tell him how many i have and he will trust me. 

     as i go up to the porch to pay him, i notice his mustache is as perfectly trimmed as his lawn. he’s an older man who carries a quiet and gentle pride about him. there is one leaf on his perfect lawn, showing his humanity.  he smiles with his eyes as he tells me he’s done this for a few years, won’t reveal how he gets the golf balls, or anything else about his interesting business, only that it’s his hobby. he lets me take a picture but doesn’t want me to use his name or his face.

     i can see it’s his simple joy, and more important than any money he makes, it’s his way of keeping in touch with the world.  he values the conversations he has with people who stop by throughout the day. he has lived a full life and now is enjoying sitting quietly between the lions and watching the world unfold before his eyes. 

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It’s good sportsmanship to not pick up lost golf balls while they are still rolling. 

Mark Twain