I hope your Father’s Day (and night) 2015 has been a peaceful and joyful one. Mine was/is. Spent time with both daughters and all four grandies. What a blessing to have them all in my Savannah. My cards:
And an incredible Facebook post by older daughter Amy:
“Happy Father’s Day to my very hip and high impact dad! I am blessed to have a dad who taught me to love without discrimination, to have joy in all circumstances, and who creates an environment of safety and acceptance where I am free to develop into my best and truest self.”
What a Difficult and Unparalleled Joy Fatherhood is!
I have FOUR grandchildren. (Yes, you’re right, I’m FAR too young. We all know that. It’s a given. But sometimes Mother Nature has a way of bypassing her laws of when people should have grandchildren–and presents them in, well, early, early middle age.)
Anyway, the second-from-the-oldest-grandchild is Gabriel, 5, a rambunctious bundle of pure little boy-ness. He’s often affectionately referred to simply as “G.” In his most recent pre-K school report, the patient-as-a-saint and give-her-a-raise teacher wrote that Gabriel is “smart, funny, with many friends … and has a touch of naughtiness.”
Here’s G (on the far right) with a few school buddies,
And here he is the other night with older brother Daniel (8).
Today I received this text from my daughter/G mom Amy:
A couple of days ago I encouraged you to consider, and attend to, the blessings that are in your life. I hope you have taken a brief break from the Christmas rush, and done so.
Here’s my Counting Continued:
6. Sitting Down and Sitting Still for a few minutes.
7. A Christmas Visit with my parents (father–91, mother 87).
8. Sparkly Lights.
9. Appreciating my local Savannah Police. Our police men and women are the first folks we usually call when something goes awry in our homes, neighborhoods and cities.
Each Monday morning, my former colleague Eric Nelson up the road at Georgia Southern University posts a poem on the departmental listserv. I love today’s. It feels a little “The Road Not Taken”-ish but with a twist of its own.
What If This Road
— by Sheenagh Pugh
What if this road, that has held no surprises
these many years, decided not to go
home after all; what if it could turn
left or right with no more ado
than a kite-tail? What if its tarry skin
were like a long, supple bolt of cloth,
that is shaken and rolled out, and takes
a new shape from the contours beneath?
And if it chose to lay itself down
in a new way; around a blind corner,
across hills you must climb without knowing
what’s on the other side; who would not hanker
to be going, at all risks? Who wants to know
a story’s end, or where a road will go?
— from What If This Roadand Other Poems (Gwasg Carreg Gwalch, 2003)
The students in my English 123 (Freshman Composition) classes at SCAD (Savannah College of Art and Design) are doing what I call Visual Essays in this, their next-to-the-last week of Fall Quarter 2014. We read two books this term, Paulo Coelho’s The Alchemist and Tal Ben-Shahar’s Happier, both relating to our course theme of “Happiness and the Exploration of Joy.” The Visual Essay project invites the students to MAKE, rather than write, their papers. Traditional essay requirements are still required: a focus and thesis, structure, detail and support, etc. But this essay morphs into a drawing or painting, a sculpture, a collage, a video, a food, etc. Basically this project is a visual representation of one topic narrowed into a clear thesis/perspective/idea. The challenge: how to “show” their thesis.
Debora Jacob (from Brazil) went to Forsyth Park here in Savannah last Saturday. Here’s her Visual Essay titled “Happiness Shared” on the topic of the smile and its significance.
Yes I admit it, I’m an optimist. Pollyanna’s a very good buddy. We took tap dancing together.
What I mean is I’m USUALLY a somewhat cheery person. But not always. A while back, I underwent a fairly unpleasant medical procedure. (I’m a big baby when it comes to anything that hurts at a .5 or higher on a 1-10 pain level.)
Here I am in the waiting room, reading about blogging:
Finally I was called back to the procedure room but had to wait in solitude quite a while. The doctor was running behind. I got bored and started playing with the IPhone’s reverse camera capability:
I looked at these pictures, grimaced at their muted and otherworldly haziness, realized I wasn’t smiling–and started to delete them.
Then it hit me.
Get real, Neal. It’s okay not to smile. It’s okay to be muted and hazy … and to be by yourself for a while.
It’s All Hallow’s Eve! (Wasn’t it just July 4th last week?) And I am spookily happy. Seriously. Here’s why.
1. Yesterday going to my grandtwins’ nursery school and carving a Jack O’ Lantern. Here it is:
Okay, that’s a lie. I took that pic near my place in historic district Savannah. Here’s the one I did:
Sorry but that’s a lie as well. (Is that a bat?) Here’s mine:
For more decades than I care to mention, my Jack O’Lanterns have looked EXACTLY the same. But what fun with Matthew and Madison and their little classmates.
2. Speaking of pumpkins, here’s my dinner Wednesday night–Butternut Squash Soup in Pumpkin Bowls.
Oh. My. Goodness. Gourmet heaven.
3. The Savannah Film Festival this week, hosted by my SCAD–Savannah College of Art and Design.
Such fun.
What incredible films I saw, including a fascinating documentary about Summerville, GA artist Americana Howard Finster and a mesmerizing selection of short films from Ireland.
4. Singing with James Brown in Augusts, GA.
We’re belting out “Papa’s Got a Brand new Bag,” followed by “Make it Funky.”
As some of you know, I no longer bring meat into the house–it’s all vegetables, fruits, legumes, nuts and seeds there. But I occasionally indulge while eating out. And for some some reason, today I had an all-too-powerful-to-ignore-or-resist hankering for a hunk of grilled meat. So I pulled up to the Green Truck, bellied up to the bar to avoid the table wait and ordered the Green Truck Classic Burger, described in their menu as “plain and simple as an old truck: lettuce, tomato, onion and our soon-to-be-famous house-made pickle.” (I added cheddar.)
Yum. No, double yum!
I kept furtively looking around to see if any of my vegetarian friends might have followed me inside. I was nervously poised to slam my meaty plate in front of one of the folks on either side of me at the bar.
Anyhoo, I savored every moment, every bite. (Do Not Tell Anyone About This! It’s Just Between You And Me.)
Well, when I finished, (and be forewarned, the rest of the story is probably TMI, so stop right now, if you like, and you will still have my burger story), I went to the non-gender-specific bathroom–I’m so 2014– before waddling back to the car.
There was the coolest retro sink inside.
And the typical cabinet.
But for some reason I glanced at the cabinet again …
… and thought, “I wonder what’s in that little cabinet? And if the contents are also non-gender-specific?”
(P.S. When inviting me to birthday or Avon parties, put some of those plastic child resistant lock things on your cabinets. I’ve never been able to figure them out.)
So, of course I reached up and opened the cabinet door. Wouldn’t you? No?! (I also opened a door in a huge hallway in the Biltmore House in Asheville some years back, and a piercing alarm went off, terribly embarrassing my family and friends. Me? When things like that happen, I just try to go to my Happy Place inside and block out externals. There might have been an “Alarm Will Sound” notice on the door, I can’t remember, but really, how often would the Biltmores have changed the batteries?)
Lo and behold, an alarm of sorts also went off when I opened the cabinet door inside the Green Truck’s non-gender-specific bathroom. Here’s what was scrawled on the inside of the door:
I walked out of the bathroom beet red.
(P.S. II: I was so taken aback by the message that I completely forgot to see what was inside the cabinet. If someone wouldn’t mind, would you rush over to the Green Truck, pretend to have to use the bathroom, and snap a pic or two of the inside of that cabinet so I can go to sleep tonight? Thank you.)