Wednesday, January 16

The Chief sits in his cycle shop
Drinking his PBR;
Where can I get a good mechanic
To service my German car?

Up jumps a braw young lad
Lounging by the door
I’m your guy, I can make you fly,
I’ve serviced these wheels before.

He tinkered and tankered, pulled many a spruhl,
Made that old car a sleek modern ride,
Till the final day came, and he rolled it out
To the gleaming great outside.

Three cheers, three cheers, shouted all the lads,
Three cheers for the chief, our guy!
So our Chief rolled away on a bright Sunday
With hardly a cloud in the sky.

Oh they rode north, and they rode north,
Till they came to a great Valley –
“Look to the west, it’s clouding up fast,
And our Chief said, “Follow me!”

They followed him down that long valley
Till an exit appeared on their right;
Let’s stop here, boys, let’s find a motel,
And there’s we’ll spend the night.

Oh the TV played, and the ice cubes clanked,
And they dropped off, one by one,
While outside the wind and clouds rolled in
And of rain there came a great ton.

Oh long may the ladies wait,
With their children on their knee,
Before they see their laddies again
Who drowned in the great valley.

Oh far away the motel site sits,
Now a lake beside a town
And only a flower to mark the place
Where the Chief and his men lay down.

Sunday, January 13

Kits or Kitsch, a Contest

Here are the entries. Label each as

a) kits

b) kitsch

L-R: bright yellow, white, dull yellow

It's hard to capture the beguilinbg sparkle of the eyes. You can only imagine.

Sunday, January 6

A shiny presence is gone from my house

Today being Epiphany, I took down my Christmas tree, and already I miss it. It shimmered with tinsel, it shone with big old-fashioned lights, and it glistened with ornaments from my life: the tin fish from Georgetown in the 70s, the silver star my brother David made of Mylar and toothpicks, the Santa Claus Zack made out of construction paper, glue, and cotton many years ago, the Victorian fan Caleb made in forth grade, the feathery peacock from India which always goes on top, the striped pink and blue ball Anita gave my mom, and so many more. The tree was a thing of beauty. When I'd finished decorating it before Christmas, it was almost perfect, but one thing was lacking -- shimmer. So I covered it with tinsel. Not the heavy leaded tinsel of my childhood, but the modern, holographic plastic tinsel of today. That was the touch it needed. Since my camera is STILL in the repair shop I couldn't take its picture and am instead showing the cover of a wonderful book, Deborah Kogan Ray's treatment of the poem by e. e. cummings, which I will give here, as it deserves to be widely known:
little tree
little silent Christmas tree
you are so little
you are more like a flower
who found you in the green forest
and were you very sorry to come away?
see i will comfort you
because you smell so sweetly
i will kiss your cool bark
and hug you safe and tight
just as your mother would,
only don't be afraid
look the spangles
that sleep all the year in a dark box
dreaming of being taken out and allowed to shine,
the balls the chains red and gold the fluffy threads,
put up your little arms
and i'll give them all to you to hold
every finger shall have its ring
and there won't be a single place dark or unhappy
then when you're quite dressed
you'll stand in the window for everyone to see
and how they'll stare!
oh but you'll be very proud
and my little sister and i will take hands
and looking up at our beautiful tree
we'll dance and sing
"Noel Noel"
~ e.e. cummings

Wednesday, January 2

Temporary aphasia

Dear Neighbors,
Thank you so much for the delicious ... ah... ah... a...
menudo (no!!)
dulce de leche
yes, biscotti!