Tag Archives: musings

collateral damage

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 To: Beth

Good Morning!

Unfortunately _____ does not have his bag with him today. His sister vomited in the car on the way to school. His bag was one of the lucky ones that got hit. I’m sure he told you. My mom will be picking him up today at the bus stop.  Thanks so much!

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Your present circumstances don’t determine where you can go; they merely determine where you start.   – Nido Qubein

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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

 

 

 

 

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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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

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

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

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

 

the toddle of shame: the morning after.

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as part of our fun day in the city, we took the babies to bill’s beergarten – local german-style social gathering spot, outside, and right in the hub of town. while there, they fully embraced the spirit of the environment.

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looking back, things must have been way too fun, as i got a call to pick up some things we’d left behind. nothing like the feeling the morning after, as i humbly returned to the scene to pick up my grandson’s sippy cup and bag of baby things.  

now there’s a life lesson from your grandmother. 

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james – loyal and understanding employee of bill’s beergarten, (and advocate of the “what happens at bill’s, stays at bill’s” policy),  returns the goods with a laugh and a kind word.

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I love the smell of juice boxes in the morning.  – Robert Duvall

 

it’s my story, and i’m sticking to it

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returning to school this week for a bit of professional development. gearing up for the return of my kinders in just a couple of weeks. had a case of ‘mistaken identity’ this morning that made it clear that i’m getting back into school mode. 

reached into my purse, and this is what i expected to put on my lips:

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instead, this is what i actually put on my lips:

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good thing it is ‘disappearing purple’ color. 

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Learn from yesterday, live for today, hope for tomorrow.  – Albert Einstein 

i cannot believe you are leaving me like this after all we’ve been through together

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just got a handwritten note from my newspaper deliveryman. he said he is ‘quitting the route to move on to something else’,  but that he’s enjoyed our years together. it’s all so sudden, and we have had such a rocky history, but i will miss our odd give and take. 
 
even though we never met each other, we’ve had many interactions over the years. because he is a man, and not a boy, he delivers from his car, early morning, and our ships pass each other in the night. he’s an interesting delivery guy, seems a bit on the lazy or crazy side, and i’d love to know his story. 
 
each morning, while it is still dark out, he drives by to deliver the paper. when delivering, he inevitably is a lazy/bad shot and tosses my paper to the end of my driveway where it slopes and collects water, snow, and whatever other debris that nature has chosen to deposit there.  i’ve emailed and called the paper various times to have them ask him to please just throw it closer to the house, or out of the water zone, etc.  his response time and again, has been to wrap the paper better and throw it 8-12 inches further up the drive.(i have done my mathematical calculations, and have figured out that by the time the next decade rolls around, it should be somewhat close to my house.)  he keeps this up for around 2 weeks generally, and then it’s back to the end of the driveway. one time, he actually drove further up the driveway and threw the paper, but backed into my wooden garden border on the way out, so he must have decided it wasn’t worth the high level of risk involved.
 
there are other times when he’s failed to deliver, or delivered late, and the local manager has had to deliver it himself or i’ve been credited, or he’s said that because there were so many ads, and it took him a long time to put it all together. it was always something with him, but i never gave up hope that over time, he would master the process. (plus he was the only one who delivered the paper in my area.)
 
even after all of this, one of our most memorable experiences has to have been the time i heard an early morning crash in front of my house. my first thought was that i had my car that i was selling parked out front and that the paperman was probably the only one out at that time of day. i soon saw blue flashing lights and answered a knock on my door. it was the police telling me that my paperman had rammed into my car, and that he was calling his paper to get advice. they said he was driving on the wrong side of the road, so that he could deliver the papers and had slammed into my car. now, a few questions went through my head – like why he didn’t notice a car in right in front of him?, was he still out partying from the night before?, etc. 
 
we looked across the dark, towards each other, and that is the closet we ever came to meeting. i called his paper, who agreed to pay for repairs and a rental car. he continued to be my paperman, and each christmas he’d enclose a card in one of the papers, wishing me a happy holiday, thanking me for my business, and enclosing a self-addressed envelope.  i’d always tipped him by mail when getting a bill, and at christmas i’d send him a bonus, as he’d grown on me after all these years, and in spite of his beyond horrible delivery style. and now, it is all over, with just a letter. it ended as suddenly as it all began. i will do my best to move on and i wonder what he has chosen to move on to. 
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‘If there was no Black Sabbath, I could still possibly be a morning newspaper delivery boy. ‘ – Lars Ulrich