Thoughts – Page 2

This Road

Posted on November 17, 2014November 6, 2021 by Neal Saye

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 Road and Other Poems (Gwasg Carreg Gwalch, 2003)

Five Friday Happy Bringers

Five Friday Happy Bringers (10/31/14)

Posted on October 31, 2014November 6, 2021 by Neal Saye

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.”

5. The joy of holidays.

Happy, Happy Halloween to you all!

Gratitude Turkey

Posted on November 22, 2012November 22, 2012 by Neal Saye

I picked up Grandson Daniel (5) from school yesterday, and, hopping into his back seat, he excitedly showed me his just-completed Turkey Basket (well, that’s what he called it anyway). As I soon learned, the turkey project was two-fold: first the cute little construction paper turkey itself. But as you can see in the pictures below, the front housed a nifty envelope (basket?) which held little gratitude or thanksgiving cards. For each note, Daniel and his classmates completed the statement “I am thankful for ____ because …” for their family members.

What a joy! Little ones expressing their thankfulness so sincerely. Below Daniel explains to me that his plan for Thanksgiving Day consists of waiting till “all the guests” have eaten “some of their turkey” and then “hand out the slips.” And he did just that–for all fourteen of the folks at the table. His mom helped him with some of the spelling, but the sentiments were exclusively his.

Here’s mine:

“I am thankful for Abu (that’s me) because he helps with decorations.”

(Okay, maybe that sounds a bit strange, but the day before, we had decorated for Thanksgiving with some outdoor lights. And a month earlier we had carved two jack o’ lanterns.)

What Thanksgiving Joy! We really all do have so very much to put in our Turkey Baskets.

[For more on “Abu” see “My Favorite Word Is Abu!” post.]

Humor

The Revelation of Riboclavin (And a Dog Stealing Cabbage) (You Know You Have to Read This Post)

Posted on August 15, 2012August 15, 2012 by Neal Saye

As faithful blog followers know, I have a buddy “named” Riboclavin who is quite a character. (And of course we all know his name isn’t REALLY Riboclavin, come on, but as I said in a post from way back, “I’m just not very good at giving people fake names if they don’t want their real names ‘published’ on my blog because, heaven forbid, the ‘tens’ of people who follow my blog might see their name and … and … idk.”) Anyway, here he is, rocking. And even though that dualistic rocking chair looks über huge, Riboclavin looks comfortable and relaxed. And, really, isn’t that what counts?

[By the way (true story), on my 16th birthday, I received a rocking chair from my parents as my main gift.] [Therapy has helped. But only so much.]

Ribo loves two things in life (maybe more than two, but right now only these couple come to mind). One, he LOVES his dog MisterDillHarris.

Here’s MisterDillHarris with a big ole bone:

Two, he LOVES (or maybe hates, I’m not sure) his obsession with health, or actually his perceived lack of health. The guy can be standing in line at the movies to see, for example, Miley Cyrus in The Last Song, and all of a sudden he HAS to take his temperature. Don’t believe me? Well, here he is taking his temp.

And, look, here he is taking his dog’s temperature:

(For me, pretend this is normal. Thanks.)

So anyway, recently Riboclavin texted me a video link, and as usual, made NO attempt to introduce or explain the link. You can surely understand by now my trepidation and why I came two hairs close to deleting the text and pretending I never received it (as I do with any unwanted or ill-timed text, email, voicemail, regular mail, fax, postcard, Hallmark card, smoke signal, etc.). Afterall, his most recent link took me to a medical site where a disgusting surgical procedure was in full “operation,” causing me to gasp and snort and vow to never speak to Riboclavin again. But for some reason I decided, even with the high risk, to open the link. And I was pleasantly surprised! (If you’re near wood, please knock on it for me.)

Here’s the video, entitled “Dog Steals Cabbage.”

Now isn’t that cute … and happiness-worthy? Please tell Riboclavin thanks, and wish him good health.

Joy in Nature, Savannah Joy

Welcome to My Backyard, the Alley of the Angels

Posted on July 6, 2012January 5, 2023 by Neal Saye

Welcome to the alley of the angels

Hey, they say your eyes can gleam

When you can a just tell the truth all night

(And you can chase them dreams all night)

Welcome to the alley of the angels.

— John Cougar Mellencamp

Places–I love the poetic resonance of that word. Some places are special; you had them growing up, of course you did. And do now. Magical places. Special because of their cocoonishness, or their broad openness. Their smell, or their connection to friends or family. Their lightness, or darkness. Their safety, or risk.

So I was aghast a few years back when I attended a writing conference at the Sea Turtle Inn in Atlantic Beach, FL, and one afternoon decided to skip the meetings and drive down memory lane. I headed south to Jacksonville Beach to find the motel where my family and I vacationed from about the time I was six or seven till I went away to college. It had those wonderful beds where you inserted a quarter into the headboard, and the mattress vibrated! For fifteen minutes! My mother, father and brothers would all hop on. Who needed the Ritz?

I knew exactly where the Horseshoe Motel stood. I had been there SO many times as a kid. But I started to doubt myself when I passed the lifeguard station and came to the ridiculously sharp turn in the road far beyond my memory motel location. I can be dense, so it took me at least three to-and-fro trips before I realized (admitted?) that the place had been demolished for a condo. Sad. A childhood place gone for good.

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I live in beautiful downtown Savannah, smack-dab in the middle of the nation’s largest historic district, to be exact. I can hear the huge freighters blowing their bass notes at night …

… as well as the clatter of horseshoes as carriages tour past Colonial Park Cemetery across the street.

I love walking the Savannah streets, breathing history.

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I don’t really have a backyard, in the traditional sense of the word. But, boy, do I have a backyard! It’s really a small alley, which runs behind the building where I live.

Even though it is communal, and somewhat small, there are hidden crannies where one can sit and read, or laptop, or daydream. It exudes a trace of otherwordliness, a fragrance of excursion. I step into my “backyard,” and suddenly I’m in Europe–Florence, Italy perhaps, trying to decide on which trattoria to frequent. I sit to read in its botanical wealth and am lost, not just in the book’s maze, but in the place, the green, the leafyness, the nowness of nature.

This place calls me to look up, to pause and see.

To view from unfamiliar perspectives and angles.

A tremendous perk of having place appreciation is that windows appear, and open (or shut), and allow you to see just what you desire to see. Or simply, and deliciously, to dream.

There’s power in place.

Both growth and potential growth. Both static and kinetic.

Sometimes sitting is all that’s needed in life. To embrace “is-ness,” accept “am-ness.” Breathing in, breathing out.

A sense and celebration of place, our place, they gift us with calm assurance that we are where we are, for good reason. That rhythm and movement take us (or keep us) where we need to be.

My backyard invites me to …

And such encouragement affirms the heart of this attempt at blogging.

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College Teaching

Final Little Hallway Walk and GSU Retirementville

Posted on June 21, 2012September 9, 2012 by Neal Saye

Office 2225B on the second floor of the Newton Building on the campus of Georgia Southern University. A second home. For a long time.

But my office is cleared out now, books all boxed and removed. Quieter than it has been in eons. Computer-humming quiet. My office phone suddenly shy, afraid to ring and disturb emptiness.

I’m retiring from full-time college teaching.

This evening, after my last set of finals is turned in, I will walk out my door and down my little hallway for the final time as a professor at GSU.

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The Walk.

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Goodbye, goodbye little hallway! Goodbye, goodbye GSU!

Hello, hello ….

Uncategorized

StereoStopping

Posted on March 4, 2012May 5, 2022 by Neal Saye

My father, Harold Saye Sr., 87 now, taught me the single most important lesson of my life when I was a child. He taught it primarily through living the lesson out day by day, year by year–through a lifetime. He also imparted the lesson to me in simple words: “Neal, treat every person you come in contact with as if they are the most important person in the world. Because when you are with them, they are.”

I learned from my dad, for example, that old people should be respected, revered even, for the years they have lived and learned. For the truth they know. He showed me how to love his mother, my Mama Saye, by just listening to her talk as she neared her death.

My father taught me to smile kindly at Joe Junior Watkins, the man/boy in ever-present overalls who wasn’t quite right, who grew older but remained a child. “Don’t ever make fun of people, Neal. They’re doing the best they can.”

I learned from my daddy that if you allow yourself to hate somebody because he or she is different from you, the next step comes easy: you can ignore them or fight them or kill them even. “Don’t let that happen to you, Neal.”

He taught me that different is not bad. It’s just different.

I grew up in the tiny North Georgia town of Ball Ground, where there were no blacks. Not one. But my father had black co-workers in his job as a machinist in nearby Canton, and he would invite his black buddy and his family to our house. I learned early on that skin color is … skin color.

My father taught me to do whatever I can in my life to …

I certainly have not been 100% successful in this endeavor (probably not even 50%), but I am SO glad that I had such a wonderful model.

Now I try to teach my students that college should be an opportunity for them to embrace a diverse mix of people: different ethnicities and cultures, sexual orientations different from their own, different age groups, faiths, sizes, personalities, etc.

I want to ask you to do something. Watch the video below. Its a bit hard because it’s fairly long (about ten minutes) and it’s difficult to understand all the words of the speaker (but in a way, that difficulty is part of the lesson of today’s post).