This semester is going to suck!
I have 6 sections of photo 1.
SIX!
On Wednesday I am teaching from noon to 9pm. On Monday and Tuesday, I have 10 am classes, which I don’t love. I don’t know how it happened, but my schedule this semester sucks. I am screwed. I don’t want to do it. My Chair, who is scattered at the best of times, does not remember that I was using my last release class this semester. I hate this. I hate feeling out of control and powerless. These things make me hate my job! I love teaching. I love working with students. I hate these stupid, petty items.
Friday, January 26, 2007
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
The Good with the Bad
What is it about life, about the life cycle that gives us both grief and happiness? Why is it that they exist so close to one another? Maybe it is those oppositional twin emotions, which allow us to fully experience our own humanity, and to further extend ourselves with care, empathy, and tenderness to those around us when they are caught in their throughs.
The Good
Monday the 22nd marked the 35th wedding anniversary of Dad and Martie. I was the tiny attendant at their wedding, which I must confess, I do not remember. But in the photographs, my dress was smashing! Velvet striped multi-colored affair with a sash, and if I am not mistaken, patent leather shoes. And you wonder why I love fashion!
However this is not about me, this is about them. They have weathered the inevitable storms and trials of marriage, and today seem happier then almost any other couple I know. Theirs is a marriage that looks fun, adventurous, and loving. The home they have built (and redecorated!) together is populated with the mementoes and touchstones of a full life. They know, and respect, and love one another in a very real and touching way. It is a model I look to as I approach my 5th wedding anniversary this June.
I am almost done with the gifts I’ve been planning! Oh Gordon, your hat is so cute! I’ll send things off this week, feeling both proud, and a little sheepish. But happy that in the end I did it!
On NPR, love it! I download it to I-tunes, and listen at my leisure. I heard the interview with Bob Seeger yesterday, his voice that takes me right back to my childhood. Perhaps because that is when his songs were constantly on the radio? Especially in Michigan, his home state. I hadn’t thought about him in years, or heard any of his songs, except a few years ago when Terry and I spent 3 weeks in Bay View one summer. We rented a car, and without fail, every time we turned on the radio, the song that was playing was by Bob Seeger. It seemed so odd, that it became a joke between us during that trip. One I happily remembered during the Seeger interview. A memory that made me take stock of the many good times and adventures Terry and I have had so far.
The Bad
Sunday morning Bea called her voice full with emotion. I hadn’t heard it like that since she called to tell me Jane had died. That call though had also held a wisp of relief. Jane was beyond pain and suffering, though our loss was great. This call was different, my first thought was Grandma Gray, but instead it was Richard Churchward. Bea had found out that he was in the hospital, dying of cancer, and given 10 days tops to live.
The father of her 3 beautiful boys, now young men, the husband she spent many years with. The love of her life. In spite of the trouble and pain he had caused at times, he was the one she could still turn to. The father who loved to see his boys play well, all three inherited his love of sport and his skills, which were considerable. Personal pain and demons ruled many decisions he made, but he never lost his love for his sons or fully for Bea.
I remember Martha saying that he was the most handsome man she had ever met in real life. And he was. He could be warm and caring, and often was. He loved to laugh and have a good time, especially if a story could come from the experience, one he could tell with relish, until everyone around him joined in the warmth he shared. When he saw someone he loved, his face lit up. He didn’t even need to smile, he could light up a room with the twinkle in his eye. He could and did talk to everyone and anyone. He knew the names and the stories of the guy at the gas station, the hardware store, the lumberyard, and behind the bar.
I was so proud to the in their wedding. I was ten, and felt very special and grown up. The blue dresses Grandma made for the wedding party seemed to match both Bea and Richard’s eyes. Not that it would fit, but I wish I still had that dress. Richard always made me feel again, like that special girl, even as he commented, that I was growing up quite nicely. He would never not flirt with a woman, no matter the age, race, or figure. To do so would have be as if he had not greeted them at all. And he was the very best kind of flirt, the kind that made you feel good, special, noticed, but never slimy or vulnerable. His was the sort of flirting that made you glad to be alive, and gave you a little more spring in your step.
Bea was trying to sort out the trip for herself and the boys to California as soon as possible, made more complicated by the fact that Jesse was in the UK. As Bea asked, I called Jesse, who was having a hard time with being so far away, and the reality of this dramatic turn in his life. His heartbreak was just as palpable as his Mother’s, a testament to the closeness he shared with his Dad. Jesse had spent the summer in California working with Richard. Among is many skills, Richard was a gifted carpenter. The beautiful log home he built for Sue Nordlinger is one of many examples. Few people had the ability to turn a 2 dimensional image into reality the way he did.
On Monday afternoon, my Mom called, Richard had died. Jesse was still in the air and would not know until he landed. A loving, kind-hearted soul, gone too soon from those who loved and knew him. Let us remember him in our hearts with the warmth he offered us, and reach out to others as he did so easily.
The Good
Monday the 22nd marked the 35th wedding anniversary of Dad and Martie. I was the tiny attendant at their wedding, which I must confess, I do not remember. But in the photographs, my dress was smashing! Velvet striped multi-colored affair with a sash, and if I am not mistaken, patent leather shoes. And you wonder why I love fashion!
However this is not about me, this is about them. They have weathered the inevitable storms and trials of marriage, and today seem happier then almost any other couple I know. Theirs is a marriage that looks fun, adventurous, and loving. The home they have built (and redecorated!) together is populated with the mementoes and touchstones of a full life. They know, and respect, and love one another in a very real and touching way. It is a model I look to as I approach my 5th wedding anniversary this June.
I am almost done with the gifts I’ve been planning! Oh Gordon, your hat is so cute! I’ll send things off this week, feeling both proud, and a little sheepish. But happy that in the end I did it!
On NPR, love it! I download it to I-tunes, and listen at my leisure. I heard the interview with Bob Seeger yesterday, his voice that takes me right back to my childhood. Perhaps because that is when his songs were constantly on the radio? Especially in Michigan, his home state. I hadn’t thought about him in years, or heard any of his songs, except a few years ago when Terry and I spent 3 weeks in Bay View one summer. We rented a car, and without fail, every time we turned on the radio, the song that was playing was by Bob Seeger. It seemed so odd, that it became a joke between us during that trip. One I happily remembered during the Seeger interview. A memory that made me take stock of the many good times and adventures Terry and I have had so far.
The Bad
Sunday morning Bea called her voice full with emotion. I hadn’t heard it like that since she called to tell me Jane had died. That call though had also held a wisp of relief. Jane was beyond pain and suffering, though our loss was great. This call was different, my first thought was Grandma Gray, but instead it was Richard Churchward. Bea had found out that he was in the hospital, dying of cancer, and given 10 days tops to live.
The father of her 3 beautiful boys, now young men, the husband she spent many years with. The love of her life. In spite of the trouble and pain he had caused at times, he was the one she could still turn to. The father who loved to see his boys play well, all three inherited his love of sport and his skills, which were considerable. Personal pain and demons ruled many decisions he made, but he never lost his love for his sons or fully for Bea.
I remember Martha saying that he was the most handsome man she had ever met in real life. And he was. He could be warm and caring, and often was. He loved to laugh and have a good time, especially if a story could come from the experience, one he could tell with relish, until everyone around him joined in the warmth he shared. When he saw someone he loved, his face lit up. He didn’t even need to smile, he could light up a room with the twinkle in his eye. He could and did talk to everyone and anyone. He knew the names and the stories of the guy at the gas station, the hardware store, the lumberyard, and behind the bar.
I was so proud to the in their wedding. I was ten, and felt very special and grown up. The blue dresses Grandma made for the wedding party seemed to match both Bea and Richard’s eyes. Not that it would fit, but I wish I still had that dress. Richard always made me feel again, like that special girl, even as he commented, that I was growing up quite nicely. He would never not flirt with a woman, no matter the age, race, or figure. To do so would have be as if he had not greeted them at all. And he was the very best kind of flirt, the kind that made you feel good, special, noticed, but never slimy or vulnerable. His was the sort of flirting that made you glad to be alive, and gave you a little more spring in your step.
Bea was trying to sort out the trip for herself and the boys to California as soon as possible, made more complicated by the fact that Jesse was in the UK. As Bea asked, I called Jesse, who was having a hard time with being so far away, and the reality of this dramatic turn in his life. His heartbreak was just as palpable as his Mother’s, a testament to the closeness he shared with his Dad. Jesse had spent the summer in California working with Richard. Among is many skills, Richard was a gifted carpenter. The beautiful log home he built for Sue Nordlinger is one of many examples. Few people had the ability to turn a 2 dimensional image into reality the way he did.
On Monday afternoon, my Mom called, Richard had died. Jesse was still in the air and would not know until he landed. A loving, kind-hearted soul, gone too soon from those who loved and knew him. Let us remember him in our hearts with the warmth he offered us, and reach out to others as he did so easily.
Saturday, January 20, 2007
New!
Why have a blog?
Who cares?
Do you really want to read my every thought?
Do you really think I have time to write my every thought?
What am I thinking about?
It has taken me months to get to here, the moment when I have both time and inclination to create a blog. So why the name "Coney Island Baby"? Well, I love Lou Reed, always have, always will. In September, I began taking photographs of Coney Island. Every time I go out there I see things that seem so funny, odd, humorous, and sad that I find myself thinking I should have a blog to let everyone know about these moments. I've been dreaming about the name for months, I sing the song inside my head when I’m there.
Today I am working on things I want to work on, my website for the PSC grant http://actowery.com/psc.html - and a template for a page/stationary for the recipes I am sending as X-Mas gifts. I know it's January, but I am still working on them! It's been a rough holiday season!
The format looks nice though, not exactly "homey, " however, I do not think I am a particularly homey person. Certainly, I have no inclination to make myself at home, or to clean my home. Somehow, I continue to think that one day I might wake up with the urge to clean, hasn't happened yet.
I do enjoy laundry - it is direct, and makes me feel accomplished. In addition, I love cooking, hence my recipes and notes, which I am collecting, and formatting as gifts. These are personal. I like the personal touch, especially for gifts, and generally, the end of the semester is so busy I do not have time to create these sorts of things. Instead of my usual feeling of failure, and disappointment, I have decided to continue, and just send them when they are ready.
Who cares?
Do you really want to read my every thought?
Do you really think I have time to write my every thought?
What am I thinking about?
It has taken me months to get to here, the moment when I have both time and inclination to create a blog. So why the name "Coney Island Baby"? Well, I love Lou Reed, always have, always will. In September, I began taking photographs of Coney Island. Every time I go out there I see things that seem so funny, odd, humorous, and sad that I find myself thinking I should have a blog to let everyone know about these moments. I've been dreaming about the name for months, I sing the song inside my head when I’m there.
Today I am working on things I want to work on, my website for the PSC grant http://actowery.com/psc.html - and a template for a page/stationary for the recipes I am sending as X-Mas gifts. I know it's January, but I am still working on them! It's been a rough holiday season!
The format looks nice though, not exactly "homey, " however, I do not think I am a particularly homey person. Certainly, I have no inclination to make myself at home, or to clean my home. Somehow, I continue to think that one day I might wake up with the urge to clean, hasn't happened yet.
I do enjoy laundry - it is direct, and makes me feel accomplished. In addition, I love cooking, hence my recipes and notes, which I am collecting, and formatting as gifts. These are personal. I like the personal touch, especially for gifts, and generally, the end of the semester is so busy I do not have time to create these sorts of things. Instead of my usual feeling of failure, and disappointment, I have decided to continue, and just send them when they are ready.
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