Prompt #73 Stuff That Works

 I was listening to a tribute album for the prolific Texas songwriter Guy Clark when I heard this song.  Immediately, I knew it would be a great prompt.

Here is the lyric video. It’s pretty straightforward — what are things that always work for you?

Memoir, poetry…maybe even fiction. Relax into this and see where it goes. 

Aggravation

 Response to Prompt #72, Serendipity Doo Dah.

Aggravation. Not a particularly fun word, but one that conjures up positive memories for me. During cold Michigan winter nights, my parents pulled out a variety of board and card games, Uno and Aggravation being the favorites. Oddly enough, both games rely on irritating your opponents by thwarting their progress, not in a mean-spirited way, but what people call good-natured ribbing. 

I don't think any of this damaged me. To the contrary, I think these kinds of games were actually good character builders and help put some perspective around the difference between little annoyances and actual affronts. I'll explore and unpack the psychology of this all later. For now, I'm going to play with the synonyms/related words and idioms for aggravation--some brand new to me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You know that person who seems intent on ruffling your feathers? We all have (or have had) at least one in our lives. This person delights in rubbing you the wrong way, making you lose your cool.

While these hair shirts may seem like thorns in our sides, I have come to believe they are placed in our path to teach us something, that their irksome behaviors provide opportunities for personal growth.

I had a couple of students like that in back-to-back periods one particularly horrible year. They were hell-bent on perturbing not only me but their classmates as well, actively looking for any chance to throw a monkey wrench into the well-planned activities, engaging in devilry at every turn. Both of them had gotten the best of me on several occasions; just seeing them walk down the hallway filled me with a sense of exasperation. 

It occurred to me one day that this is exactly what they wanted, to be the albatross around my neck. What I needed to do is take away that power, reduce their behaviors to fleabites instead of reacting as if I was facing some massive tribulation. 

And so began my social experiment. The next time each of them were absent from their respective classes, I announced that from now on, when anyone in the classroom tried to disrupt the learning with annoying behaviors, anyone who reacted was getting a referral. 

"That's not fair!" a few chimed in. 

"What's really not fair is certain people are taking away your right to learn. That should be the thing that bothers you the most," I replied.

I let them sit in the silence for a moment to reflect on that simple fact. Then I let them whisper to the people in their groups. I'm sure they were convinced I had lost my mind, but most of them trusted me, so they finally conceded. 

Magic happened after that. Every time the offenders tried to cause trouble, the other kids either shrugged them off or just flat-out ignored them. Some even asked for the person to be removed from their group until they were left to do the work alone (which they often did not). Everyone else in the class was learning, following our Accountable Talk discussion rules, building on each other's ideas respectfully, even when they disagreed. 

It came to pass that without an audience, these two former menaces had zero power. Unfortunately, they didn't get on board with the rest of the class, instead choosing to come in and put their heads down when I denied their almost daily requests to be sent to ISS for the period. 

One day, the principal walk in and made a beeline for one of the sleeping beauties. I caught his eye and shook my head, pleading with my eyes to let the sleeping bear lie. Thankfully, he just sat down and did his observation, waking the student at the end of class to rebuke him for sleeping. 

"Come see me after school, Mrs. Ferry," he said as he left. 

Some students' eyes got large, "Are you in trouble?" 

"Don't you worry. I have this covered," I assured them. "In my opinion, it's worth it if 24 out of 25 of you are learning."

Needless to say, I didn't get fired that day. My principal got my position--he didn't love it, and quite frankly neither did I--but how can you argue with the logic? 

Maybe all those snowy nights being systematically irritated by my family really did pay off after all.

Revolution

 Response to Prompt #72 Serendipity Doo Dah

I. Evolution 

The revolution of my bike tires as I venture all over the west side of Cleveland, never limiting myself, never afraid, my bicycle never failing me, round and round various neighborhoods, round and round the wheels went with me on board, alone and free, unbound and exploring.

The revolution of the 78 vinyl on my little record player, Roy Rogers singing "Don't Fence Me In."

Receiving the Beatles single "Revolution" as a Secret Santa gift in 8th grade from a boy in my class. He somehow had paid attention and heard me mention I liked the song.

You say you want a revolution. Well, you know we all want to change the world.

Round and round the turntable spins, weaving musical dreams of love and progression and change.

This was standard fare when I was a teenager. There were dozens of songs with revolutionary messages. But the song that puzzled me the most was "The Revolution Will Not Be Televised," and each time it came on the FM radio I found myself straining to decipher the lyrics and stretching to figure out what they meant.

Everything goes round and round as we seek to find our place.

 

II. Education

 In the summer of 1993 I was profoundly changed when I read Revolution From Within: A Book of Self-Esteem by Gloria Steinem. Gloria, through the Feminist Movement, had already taught me how to see clearly about what I learned about the patriarchy and a woman's place in the world. But in this book she helped me see the undoing of childhood messages and trauma is just as important. We must not only unlearn, we must relearn in a healthier and more productive way to find our true self. 

There is a tendency to see Gloria as one who tore down some well-preserved institutions, and think that means she always had it all together. Coming to understand that her biggest hurdle was developing self-esteem within herself was revolutionizing to me, and came at a time when I was faced with a huge new challenge that would change the trajectory of my life.

Ten years later in my Literary Theory class, I learned that the revolution will not be televised because it happens in an instant, barriers crash down, but only after the work of many people, after one thing, then another, then another, has been set into place, the constant motion suddenly reaches a fruition. 

I still recall that moment with clarity. Aha!

Everything goes round and round as we seek to change the world.

 

III. Contribution

Here I sit at 66-years-old, still wondering what my contribution is. I have sought revolution within more than once in my life, and I seek to revolutionize through my work over and over again, wanting something more, hoping the pieces are falling into place, pondering, wondering, contemplating, and meditating.

How to make some long-held dream a reality? Is it happening?  Will I ever know if I will have made that kind of difference? 

It is an on-going question, and time seems to be running out. So, I revolve back to what I know.

I take a hint from the Beatles: seek to contribute, to be the change I want to see.

I take a hint from Gloria: work in positive ways to find my true self and allow the true self of others.

And as I now proceed to the end of another school year, I find myself mapping out my own mini-revolution to transform what has come before, bringing my true self to the learners in front of me. The need is there, more than ever, to bring my authentic spirit forward, and help young people find their true spirit as well. It's an on-going project, and a position I revolve back to every single year. It's as regular as spring.

Everything goes round and round as we seek to implement the dream.

I walk around the block, I walk around the slough, I walk around the lake, revolutions of inspiration and intensity, nature reflecting to me my natural self over and over again.

I have evolved to riding a stationary bike, round and round the wheel goes, building inner bravery, my mind spinning new directions, new poetic lines, new lessons to impart, new dreams not too late to dream.

Everything goes round and round as we seek to be free

of all the things that could hold us back

of all the things that seem to be stagnant and unproductive

to be free in our mind and spirit, mutable and mercurial

knocking down the fences that restrain.

 

 

 

#72: Serendipity Doo-dah

Picture if you will, a dessert dreamland; I’m talking Willy Wonka magnitude. Colorful decorations and Tiffany-style light fixtures, small round tables reminiscent of just about any classic ice cream cafe, and the rich smell of chocolate, ice cream, and everything sweet in world all right through the tight New York City street-side door of Serendipity. I’m probably overstating the grandiosity of the place, but in my childhood memories, this place might as well have been Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory. It’s the place where parents brought their kids to celebrate, grown-ups went to feel like kids again, and tourists came to check out the hype and satiate a sweet tooth. You could find burgers and sandwiches and maybe some other lunch fair, but everyone really came for the desserts. Serendipity was known (still is) for the Frrrozen Hot Chocolate (and yes, that’s how they spell it on the menu). It’s hard to describe this seemingly one-of-a-kind dessert in a way that does it justice, so I won’t even try. Most anyone has enough reference to imagine what it would be like. Think that and then think 10 times better. Suffice to day, it was well worth the brain freeze to sip off this bigger-than-your-head deliciousness until you were subdued into a bloated-bellied sugar coma (again, so worth it).

If you ever take a trip to NYC and you’re a fan of ice cream and frozen desserts you can hide behind, I highly recommend you stop by Serendipity. But why this walk down memory lane? It’s really about the word: serendipity. I like it. No, I love it. Five quick rolling syllables that ibbity-bibbity off the tongue, especially the final three. First half of the word all above the line and the second half dipping below, it has two general meanings, which are directly related. In short, one means lucky or good fortune, and the other means an occurrence of events by chance in a happy way. In summary, the word basically means lucky, wouldn’t you say? Serendipitous, fortuitous, lucky. That’s how I always felt when from the time I was probably about 5 through ten or eleven, my parents took my sister and me to Serendipity.

And now you’re wondering what all of this has to do with the prompt…

It amazes me how experiences are so powerful in building vocabulary, knowledge, and schema. (I know I sound like a teacher, but some things just can’t be helped.) The experience of Serendipity made it so easy for me always to remember the word and what it means. It’s a meaning by association, not by dictionary, and it is not exact but it is concrete. It’s actually the way we want young people to learn word meanings so they can internalize, own and collect words to use across contexts. But I diverge. All of this had me thinking about an interesting prompt. Use it if it works, or perhaps my walk down memory lane will take you in another direction.

Think about a word that has strong memory or imagery for you. You think of this word and you always create a certain picture in your mind for it based on experience, or you hear a certain song or voice, or you smell the same aroma. you understand. What do you experience through your senses immediately as word association. For the writing exercise, use it to inspire a vivid imagery poem, a memoir or story, or just share the thoughts and feelings about the word in an interesting way. For example, what I did above is just a think out loud of the experience. I might use it to write a story in the setting of Serendipity, or to write an ode to the delicious Frrrozen Hot Chocolate dessert of my childhood.

Do what ever you want, fellow word nerds. Think of a word and get creative. Perhaps you will encounter a word serendipitously that will send you right where you need to go! Ok, that was bad but so what. Have fun….

In case you were curious, here are a couple of pics of the famous dessert I nabbed from reviews online:

I Got This

Response to #71: Reflection

Lately, when I look in the mirror I see a chameleon. I peer straight into my own eyes as I start each day and strangely, I think of the song from A Chorus Line.

What does he want from me?

What should I try to be?

So many faces, all around and here we go...

But he is really they and they is really everyone and the next line in the song is I need this job, but I don't need a job. I'm justing thinking about how I am going to be everything to everyone today. I'm thinking about the right facial expression the appropriate tone in my voice and the right time and situation to start a conversation or to ask a question. What to cook, what time to be here or there, or to serve dinner. There is so much going on in my world right now. I'm standing in the cone of a tornado, everyone and everything spinning up and around me, and I'm trying to keep it, all of it from blowing away. 

I get up, quietly in the dark early hours of the morning, I step into a hot shower. I stand with my feet planted, and I concentrate on grounding, pushing my feet to the tile. Looking in the mirror today, I look right through the dark circles and the swollen lids. Remarkably, I think I got this. And I do.

 

 

Surviving the Peace

 Response to Prompt #71 Reflection

This morning I was reflecting on what occurred in the classroom yesterday, marveling at an experience that, frankly, took me by surprise. Then I picked up the Anthology of Native Nations Poetry that Annmarie gave me (When the Light of the World was Subdued, Our Songs Came Through) and read the poem "Shrinking Away" by Jim Northup. In his bio, it explains that Northrup is a Vietnam War vet, and many of his poems are about the conflicts and struggles he has had. At the end of this particular poem he says

That's when I realized that

surviving the peace was up to me

 and this is what I wrote in response to his words...

Don't we all

come to that

conclusion

over and over

again?

Even as

we hear this

advice, it is

incredibly 

hard to

apply.

 

The only way

to have peace

is to BE PEACE.

 

I mean

honestly,

when you grow

up with conflict

always around you

it is hard to 

truly embrace 

peace. 

You get used

to surviving

the conflict

that you

have no 

experience

in surviving

peace.

 

Yet,

I feel

so much

of my

life has

been 

focused on

peace.

The desire,

the need,

the want

of it.

 

So I was 

actually 

surprised

when I fell

into a 

peaceful 

state and 

stayed there.

The entire

day, class

after class.

I never 

wavered

from a

kind of 

soul peace 

that seemed

to inhabit 

me fully.

 

I was somehow

no longer

feeding into,

or reacting

in any way to

the conflict

and chaos

and confusion

that comes

with middle

schoolers.

 

As the day

wore on,

I continued

to witness

this, and it

never changed.

Nothing rattled

me. I just 

kept this 

peaceful posture 

up until

the very end.

 

So...

I reflect now...

Was this 

the real thing?

Will I walk

in Monday

and Be Peace

once again?

Did this 

experience

reflect a

truth of

who I

have

become

after

all 

this 

time?

Response to #71: Mirror of Terror

2/6/22 

Years ago, I had a nightmare that shook me to the core. It was so terrifying that for months I avoided looking in the mirror when I woke up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom.

I remember it clear as day. I was in the pool bath of our home, washing my hands. When I glanced in the mirror, it was my face, but the voice pleading help me was not mine. I was possessed by something sinister, something I desperately wanted to be free of. 

I awoke with a start, my heart pounding, goosebumps covering my entire body, every cell charged with electricity.  It was a quick nightmare, a blip compared to my usual, seemingly never-ending dream sequences, a few seconds of terror that kept me up the rest of the night, afraid to close my eyes and return to that awful place. 

Now that I'm removed from it, I can examine the dream for possible meanings. How many times have I looked in the mirror and not recognized the person blinking back at me--times where I feel one way to have that reflection tell a different story? The times where I've slapped on a smile, only to have my eyes reveal the malaise that lurks beneath the surface. The times when I look sad and tired but feel light and energetic. The times I think I look good, only to have John flick on a different light and suddenly a haggish face appears. The times I feel gross but see the reflection of a beautiful woman. 

The adage looks can be deceiving rings true. 

I see that dream for what it (most likely) was now. It was a desperate plea, but not from a demon-possessed version of myself. It was a plea from my soul to make necessary changes, to let go of things that were haunting me, to worry less about every little thing that could go wrong and delight in the things that were going well. 

I finally did answer that poor soul's plea for help. I began to put her at the top of the list, to attend to her physical, emotional, and spiritual self in ways that worked for her, instead of buying into all the "shoulds" from her upbringing and society. 

I've had a few other nightmares since then that make me wake up with goosebumps, those that have me avoiding the mirror as I wash my hands post-pee. I'm not quite sure what I'm trying to avoid in those moments, but I do know that I have the strength and resilience to face whatever comes my way in the light of day. 

Prompt #71 Reflection

1/24/22

I love a line from Helen's "Between the Branches," a reflection after a day in nature: 

Does the reflection tell the truth? 

Since we all just spent a day at Corkscrew Swamp Sanctuary taking in nature and seeing it through the reflections in the tannin-stained water,  I thought it was a perfect time to make this question the prompt.  

Looks can certainly be deceiving; our brains don't always interpret what our eyes take in accurately. 

Think about the possibilities of this multiple meaning word.  Your response doesn't have to be about a literal reflection in the water or in the mirror. It can be about a personal reflection or one imagined through a character in a fictional piece. It can be a combination of both. 

Does the reflection always tell the truth? Whose truth? 

Till Then

 Prompt #70

My brother-in-law, Doug Rice, is in hospice as I write this.

 

You lost your mother as a teenager

leading you to drugs, theft, and jail time.

Your father remarried and far away, 

not a man given to much emotion or connection.

Your girlfriends could be friendly or remote

you seemed to alternate personalities

and then one, with the same name as your mom,

made you crazier than most...

So you married her.

But this kind of relationship can't last.

One beautiful boy child born, and

then you were on your own, once again.

The shutdown began.

Your emotions, your life.

Still with a wicked sense of humor,

and a deep love of family that never

could quite get it right.

A father's love you could not grasp.

A mother gap from long ago.

A breach in the family broke your heart.

You tried so hard to mend it,

even at cost to yourself.

But the only thing that reunited

was your failing liver and

semi-conscious state.

Our last visit was pleasant, yet difficult.

A final meal together at Dixie Crossroads

where you shared your shrimp with me.

Seeing what you were going through,

your attitude of acceptance and surrender

to the workings of the Universe gave comfort

to us, since there was nothing we could do...

The council of elders awaits you, Doug.

 

Mom and Dad Ward

Aunt Joanne

Uncle Dick

Uncle Jim

Aunt Dot

Debbie

Tommy

Mike

DR

 

and your mom.

 

Safe passage, dear brother

Til we meet again.

Once in a While

Response to prompt #70: Doo-Wop it

Lots of ideas came up for this prompt as I read down the list of Doo-Wop hits. I tried to select one that didn't necessarily sound like a love song- at least not obviously by the title. Love poems are easy go-to for me and I wanted to try something else. This might sound like it comes from someone who hates their job, and that simply isn't the case. I'm just someone who is looking forward in general, to the days I won't have to work at all... G-d willing!

Once in a While

by ljkemp

Once in a while 

a daydream, a vision of retirement

not a wish to grow older any more quickly

but longing for the day when my time is my own

Once in in a while

a moment of selfish reflection

not regret for the years in service to others

but a weariness from worrying about other people's children 

Once in a while

a notion; time is more valuable than money

and living more valuable than working

but a reality in which time doesn't pay for itself

Once in a while

an escape route of possibility

a small business, a cafe, a bookstore

but somehow even passion becomes work when it's work

Once in a while

a calculation of years and days

a realization they are wrong, I wouldn't miss it

but look back on it with pride accomplishment

Once in a while...

Take Me As I Am (Take 2)

 I don't know if it's boredom from being couch-ridden with an icky stomach bug, my newly found determination to write more (fueled by daily 2-minute writing stints and a re-commitment to this group), or the song itself, but I felt compelled to write another piece based on the Doo-Wop song, "Take Me as I Am." Most likely, the answer is "all of the above," but at this point, I'm not concerning myself as much with the motivation. The action of writing and publishing is the key here. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Although it left me on the outskirts of high school popularity and the "in" crowd, looking back, I realize I've always settled on the "take me as I am" philosophy. That's not to say I didn't try to fit in, didn't try to change who I am in order to be accepted, didn't pretend to like things I really didn't care for, but, in the end, I always decided to stick to my guns, my true self. 

I don't remember what on earth drove me to make the decision to run for Homecoming Queen my junior year. I was always a plain Jane, physically awkward and shackled by bad haircuts and a budget wardrobe purchased by an overly conservative mother. 

The odds were not in my favor. 

My freshman and sophomore year, I just kept my head down for the most part, stuck with my handful of friends, and tried to be invisible lest the popular people found reason to poke fun of me. I did garner the attention of one "band geek" with a rather large nose, but the boyfriend status didn't last long. 

Again, that didn't exactly help my odds. 

I also didn't do myself any favors by not being involved in anything. I wasn't athletic, artistic, or musical at all, but I could have joined yearbook or creative writing. I just didn't have the courage at the time. 

However, by junior year, I began working 25-30 hours per week at the local Ponderosa (Pondegrossout I liked to call it) and was raking in some decent dough because a few people tipped even though we were paid more than minimum wage. Although the customers weren't exactly high-rollers, a few quarters and dollar bills per table when you’re turning over tables at a rapid rate really adds up. This, along with having my license, allowed me to pay for half of a car payment, my insurance, and gas. More importantly, it allowed me to choose my own hair salon and pay for a stylist who lived in the current decade, not my aunt who also "did hair" for clients mostly 60 and over. I also could start shopping and paying for my own clothes. I leaned toward the conservative 80's styles, so my mom had nothing to worry about. 

Then, something crazy happened. Guys at work were falling all over me. Cute guys. Athletes from other schools. Older guys. I guess this gave me the courage to think I may have a shot.

So I did it. Encouraged by my small posse, I filled out the application, turned in a picture (we all know how extremely photogenic I am--wink, wink) and a bio for the display case, and crossed my fingers. 

And then I heard the snickers and the whispers:

Why would she run?

Does she actually think she has a chance?

I'm sure there were a lot worse and meaner comments I didn't get wind of, but those alone stung. 

I was the geeky girl trying to break out. 

I was the girl who didn't "put out." 

I was the girl on the outskirts.  

I was embarrassed momentarily, but I didn't let that change who I was. 

I started working even more hours my senior year, hyper-focused on just getting my diploma and kissing Dunedin High School and all of its inhabitants (minus one person I'm still friends with) goodbye. This was not my time. This was not my place. 

My best was yet to come. 
 

Take Me As I Am

Take Me As I Am: Response to Prompt #70: Doo-Wop

This prompt was eye-opening, although I should have clued into the fact that the era of Doo Wop would produce a lot of songs by male groups pinning away for the love of a girl, even many female groups hoping and praying for the love of a man. And while there's nothing inherently wrong with that, I was looking for something with a little more teeth. Then, I came across a song sung by the Chantels, "Take Me As I Am." I had a hard time finding lyrics, then discovered it was written by Eddie Jones and recorded by the Demens. While it was fun to listen to both, there is something nitty gritty about the Chantels version that really resonated with me. I think perhaps it's a braver message coming from a woman--then and unfortunately even now.  See what it inspired below. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dear Girl,

Never change yourself to fit into someone else's mold; you weren't born to conform, to be limited to one form for too long.  

Don't you dare fold yourself up into a neat little package for others; you are a gift to the world just the way you are. 

There will be plenty of people trying to change you, plenty of forces at work against you; hoist your shield of individuality. 

Your strength and power lie in your uniqueness, your willingness to stand alone even when you're tempted to join the masses. 

Shout it out, loud and clear--take me as I am--because the way you are is perfect. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Listen to Take Me As I Am by the Chantels here . And for fun, here's a version by the Demens.

Prompt #70 Doo-Wop It

This Christmas my sister gave me the vinyl recording of Paul Simon's final album In the Blue Light. This album re-imagines several of his songs, most of them I'm not too familiar with. He jazzed them up, or added blues touches, improved lyrics. It is a real lesson in refining your work as you age.

One of the songs is called "Darling Lorraine," and it isn't one I know. While listening to it, I recalled I had once read his explanation of how the song was written. He had an exhibit at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and Museum, and I had not been able to get to the exhibit, so I bought the exhibition guide to enjoy it anyway.

In the guide, Paul said "Darling Lorraine" is one of his favorites songs. He said it began with the words "The first time I saw her, I couldn't be sure."  He had no idea what the song was about.  He thought of the Doo-Wop song called "Darling Lorraine," so he decided the woman in the song was named Lorraine...and the song went from there.  

Paul likened this process to two things: one, his song "Call Me Al," which begins "A man walks down the street..." and he had to figure it out who the man was and where he was going. He also mentions another song of his named after a Doo-Wop song: "Why Don't You Write Me" (found on the Bridge Over Troubled Water album).

(To learn more about the process of writing "Call Me Al," read Call Me Al-Behind the Song)

CHALLENGE

I thought this would be a good time to use a Doo-Wop title to create a piece. Since I don't think Doo-Wop is one that we are super familiar with, or a genre we listen to much, it gives us a bit of a blank slate. I'm sure some of the songs we know, but in general I feel the titles lend themselves to some fun writing. 

For example, I saw the title "No, No, No."  I can just imagine all the ways that can be approached...a poem where you playfully say NO to all the things you don't want, a short story about a single mother trying to raise a petulant child, or a nonfiction piece on how we have to say no to the toxic things swirling around us.

Here is a list of Doo-Wop titles:

Top 100 Doo Wop Hits 1954-1963

Feel free to look up any other lists as needed.

If you want to challenge yourself further, come up with a rather mundane opening line and see where it takes you!