The Cigar Smoking Poetess - Spotlight on Amy Lowell

Amy Lowell (1874-1925) was an award winning American Poetess, from a long line of brilliant people including a Harvard president and a noted astronomer.   She never attended college because, you know, it wasn’t proper for a woman.  Lowell was reputed to be a lesbian, which is reflected in some of her love poems.  She died at the age of 51 of a cerebral hemorrhage.  Her work enjoyed a renaissance in the 1970’s when the women’s movement got a foothold.

It may seem an odd time to ponder a poem entitled “Summer”.  I encourage you to give it a read, as it is actually singing the praises of winter.  What a lovely paradigm shift, and a sentiment I share with the author.  Poems about nature are very often too idealized or saccharin to feel sincere.  This one rings true to me, and I am adding it to my “Best of the Best Anthology”.

Let me know if you agree.

Summer – by Amy Lowell

Some men there are who find in nature all
Their inspiration, hers the sympathy
Which spurs them on to any great endeavor,
To them the fields and woods are closest friends,
And they hold dear communion with the hills;
The voice of waters soothes them with its fall,
And the great winds bring healing in their sound.
To them a city is a prison house
Where pent up human forces labour and strive,
Where beauty dwells not, driven forth by man;
But where in winter they must live until
Summer gives back the spaces of the hills.
To me it is not so. I love the earth
And all the gifts of her so lavish hand:
Sunshine and flowers, rivers and rushing winds,
Thick branches swaying in a winter storm,
And moonlight playing in a boat's wide wake;
But more than these, and much, ah, how much more,
I love the very human heart of man.
Above me spreads the hot, blue mid-day sky,
Far down the hillside lies the sleeping lake
Lazily reflecting back the sun,
And scarcely ruffled by the little breeze
Which wanders idly through the nodding ferns.
The blue crest of the distant mountain, tops
The green crest of the hill on which I sit;
And it is summer, glorious, deep-toned summer,
The very crown of nature's changing year
When all her surging life is at its full.
To me alone it is a time of pause,
A void and silent space between two worlds,
When inspiration lags, and feeling sleeps,
Gathering strength for efforts yet to come.
For life alone is creator of life,
And closest contact with the human world
Is like a lantern shining in the night
To light me to a knowledge of myself.
I love the vivid life of winter months
In constant intercourse with human minds,
When every new experience is gain
And on all sides we feel the great world's heart;
The pulse and throb of life which makes us men!

Volunteer Work - Just Say NO

I’ve been noticing a trend that I do not like one bit - giving away one’s talent, services, and skills…for free.  This is not the pure thing it was in past, when Aunt Susie volunteered two days a week at the Pink Elephant store in town.  Oh no.  This is blatant disrespect, as I see it, for the professional creativity and skill of others. 

Now, I’m pretty sure we are all grateful for people like volunteer fireman, professionals who do pro bono work for those unable to pay for their services, and neighbors who step in to help when someone is in trouble.  As a massage therapist, I have offered my time and skills to various charities and individuals whom I felt I could help.  The operative word is “offered”. 

If I am solicited for my professional skills, I expect payment.  Now, before you tune me out and say “oh, there goes the almighty dollar, getting in the way of good deeds again”, let me explain the principle. 

Let’s say you have an art opening, for which you wish to have live music.  Your guests are coming free of charge, and as much as I LOVE art, I do not consider it a life or death necessity (ie you’re not the children’s cancer ward at the local hospital).  Why on earth would you not charge a dollar or two per person at the door and give some of it to your skilled help and performers?

Again, it’s principle.  You may only be able to pay 20 bucks to someone who worked all day to make YOUR event a success, but it matters.  And before you hold up the “gilded lily” of beefing up their resume’ or garnering future clients, let me say this – a PAID gig (the exact amount is not important) looks good on a resume’ and in my experience, those attending fully free events are not generally seeking the services of musicians, caterers and the like, so that’s a dead end. 

Furthermore, those who do this sort of gig out of friendship, or frankly, insecurity in their skills are setting the bar low for their respective industry.  In other words, you are screwing your own colleagues out of being taken seriously and ultimately making a living from their chosen profession. 

So please, think twice the next time some long-faced event planner hits you up for your time and service for absolutely zero effort or money.  There is almost always a more worthy recipient of your talents.

*smacks you on the ass*

jean

"Hominy, Hominy, I Think You Dropped A Bomb on Me!"

As I write this, I can almost hear my husband rapping that phrase – which he invariably does when I make this soup.  Oh, and there’s a little dance that goes along with it.  I’m sure he will be thrilled I am telling you that.

Unless you frequent authentic Mexican restaurants, where this soup is typically only made on weekends, you may not have heard of Posole.   Posole in Mexico is what we call hominy.  It’s a white corn, with distinctive, yet somehow mild flavor and texture.  The recipe, along with a lot of raunchy phrases in Spanish, were taught to me by the women I worked with in a manufacturing plant 25 years ago.  I have made it (and swore in Spanish, come to think of it) at least once per year ever since.  There’s nothing like coming home to an Army-sized vat of this soup on a cold day, which is why Nick tends to break into a little song and dance. 

I am going to publish here, for the first time, a vegetarian version – which could easily become vegan with one small change.  The original variety is very meaty, caloric and expensive to make if you do not stock multiple varieties of dried peppers in your cabinet.  I hope you find my updated, ultra-healthy version something you make throughout winter to warm you up.

What you’ll need:

-Large stockpot

-Blender

-2 to 3 Chicken bouillon- try Knorr brand soft cubes (or vegetable broth for vegan) 

-A good 2 lbs. of tomatillos (green tomatoes).  Husks removed and rinsed, left whole.

-A few regular tomatoes, any variety, cut in half (this is a great thing to do with overripe ones)

-One large or two small onions, peeled and cut into quarters

-Crushed red pepper, black pepper, minced garlic, ground cumin….all at your discretion.  I’d say about a teaspoon of each.

-2 to 3   15.5 oz cans of Hominy, drained.  Bush’s is fine, or there are some Mexican brands (I can’t tell the difference)

What to do:    In the stockpot, place all tomatoes, onions, bouillon and spices and cover with cold water.  Bring to boil and let simmer until tomatillos “explode”.  They will get soft and seeds will spill out.  Let cool slightly.

Ladle the pot contents into blender.  It may take more than one fill up to blend it all, and it’s okay to leave the bulk of the water in the pot, as you are only trying to blend the tomatoes and onion.  Pulverize it and put back in stockpot.

Bring it back to a boil and pour in the hominy.  Stir well and it’s done!

Now, heres the fun part.  When serving the truly Mexican version, provide one or preferably ALL of the following fresh “condiments” to go on top of the hot soup.  It’s like a salad on your soup. 

-squeeze of lime (this one is pretty much mandatory)

-Tabasco or other favorite hot sauce for the inevitable person who wants it hotter.

-sliced avocado

-sliced radishes

-finely shredded green or purple cabbage

-finely chopped onion

-cilantro

-Chihuahua cheese

-corn tortillas for dipping

Try serving this at one of your football gatherings this winter.  It’s a real crowd pleaser, and you’ll get points for thinking outside the “chili” box!

Xoxo

jean

10 Things I Know For Certain - Jeanslist

A number of popular magazines have a section called “Things I Know For Sure”, or something similar.  Many times, I skip to this section – regardless of whose list it is.  I am fascinated by a summation of what life has taught any individual.  That is why I don’t feel it overly self-indulgent to create and publish my list for you (Although, let’s be honest. The very act of blogging is a pretty self-indulgent practice). 

 Many of you I have never, and will never, meet in person.  Why would you care what I have to say about the meaning of life?  You don’t necessarily, but it is my hope that it will inspire you to create your own list.

So please read the following, knowing that they are NOT presented as some sort of empirical truths, but rather “The World According to Jean”.  For me, this list is fluid and should change as new things come to light.  And since I believe the meaning of life is whatever the individual assigns to it, this sort of exercise is pretty important to me.

In a world where we are always faced with the unknown, and bombarded by just how little we do know, I find it strangely comforting to tie a string to my own kite of wisdom and watch it fly!

In no particular order……

1.       Being overly concerned with how others perceive you is narcissistic.  Claiming to not give any sort of shit about the perceptions of others is anti-social.  It is yet another thing we must balance.

2.      If you are doing them right, sex and friendship will get more satisfying with age.

3.      If you plan to live past 50, no suntan will ever be worth the ravages it leaves behind.

4.      One’s children are the only vulnerability that cannot be overridden.

5.      Doing a constant post-mortem exam of your past is an excuse to not listen to the answers that are in the present.

6.      Anything that science and psychology has not yet explained, has simply not been explained yet.  For me, there is no comfort in anything mystical.

7.      Love does not conquer all.  In fact, it is often quite impractical.

8.      Even “honesty” is subjective.

9.      The greatest virtue is kindness.  

10.  The greatest travesty is mismanagement of resources.  I’ve never met a person who did not in some way waste what was available to them, myself included.

So there it is.  It took me a surprisingly short time come up with these -and I could likely write 20 more fairly easily.  It was not an emotionless endeavor.  Some of these were learned with great pain.  Still, looking at them all in a row is the adult equivalent of turning on the closet light to scare off the Boogeyman. 

Your challenge, should you choose to accept it, is to come up with a black and white list of your own.  One day, when you feel particularly adrift, it might just be your anchor.

I bid you peace.

xo

jean

Parent/Teacher Conferences - Thanks, But No Thanks

We just received notice by mail that Parent/Teacher Conferences will take place this month at our tenth grade daughter’s school.  At our high school, the scheduling, or rather “requesting” of a conference time is a multi-step process involving logging onto to the school website, using a password, asking for your most convenient time and then awaiting their response – at which point a computer randomly selects the times anyway.

I unapologetically admit to you that I have not been to one of these formal conferences, for either child, in years.  To some this may be unthinkable, so allow me to explain my position. 

I have been impressed over the years with our schools – and especially our high school.  We attend the Open House Curriculum night and of course, registration.  The teachers and other officials are always “on the ball”, things are organized and inspire confidence.  I’ve just never felt the need for the contrived “check in” of conferences.  Sure, my girls have had personality conflicts, good and not so good times academically, and a few pink slips over the years.  How do I know?  Because we talk about it, the school sends copious written and email communications, I read their reports and have never hesitated to phone or arrange a talk with a teacher, if necessary. I feel quite strongly that there is nothing you could tell me in an “8 minute maximum” sit down that I do not already know.

Also, from a teacher’s perspective, I have heard that the preparation leading up to conferences is more than one would think.  Many parents DO require detailed information, and perhaps a pat on the back for raising such a wonderful person.  Ahem.  I submit that those weeks of stressful preparation could be better served by providing extra study help, discussion groups among teachers or hell, throwing a party.  I would also support a formal meeting between teacher and student, 8 minutes in duration, to discuss their own strengths and weaknesses.  That sounds like great practice for being evaluated in a future work environment.

The first year I skipped, I remember my older daughter worrying a bit about it.  I asked her to “give me the bullet points” of the semester thus far.   As she did, a few new pieces of information surfaced.  We hashed out a plan, on paper, to make her feel more in control.  Voila -an exercise in adult problem-solving!

Look, I am not trying to marginalize teachers - quite to the contrary.  Their job is hectic enough wrangling young people all day long, checking up on their work, planning lessons and tests and meeting standardized requirements.  Not to even mention getting into teen angst and the inevitable behavior patterns of that time of life.  As I said, there must be more constructive uses for the time they would save were it not for this ritual of Conference Time.

My position is clear, and I am comfortable with it.  I welcome feedback from all sides. Here are some thoughtful questions.

-What, if anything, do you or your student get out of these meetings?

-Do you faithfully attend, no matter how inconvenient?

-Any teachers want to share how they prepare for conferences?

-Do you, as a parent, prepare in any way to meet with the teachers?

-Do you worry about the perception on your family if you do not attend?

Sound off!

Xoxo

jean

Our Pets, Ourselves - Does Your Dog Bring Out the Best in You?

Dogs are everywhere.  Statistically, about 44% of American households have at least one dog – which is higher, in some counts, than have children. 

As I stare at my own two little Boston Terriers, I begin to wonder exactly what it is that is so rewarding.  I think it’s safe to say that the added expense, housekeeping, and general responsibility for another living thing should be a deterrent.  But clearly, this is not the case.  Why do we ignore the impracticalities of pet ownership?

Well, I have said on more than a few January Firsts, that “this year, I want to be the person my dogs think I am”.  That pretty much covers the ridiculous excitement that ensues every time I come home – even when I’ve been gone 10 minutes.  It can be intoxicating to be exalted, just for being you.  Then there’s the effortless companionship that comes with a day on the sofa watching movies, or spontaneous walk when no one else wants to go.  I am thankful for these things often.

But, on closer examination, two less touted reasons for the relationship with our dogs, comes to light.

  1)  They are our “forever babies”.  Unlike raising children, we have no expectation of them ever functioning independently in the world.  They do not need to have other successful relationships, earn a living, or even learn to drive.  For us, this takes all of the pressure off of the relationship, and lets the cream rise to the top.  It is something like what I imagine has been described to me as the “perfection of being a grandparent”.    We require nothing of them but to not bite, and not poop in the house.  And let’s be honest, we forgive even those things pretty easily.

2)  In the case of most dogs, the comedic element cannot be denied.  On many occasions, they do things that can only result in a genuine and spontaneous laughter.  In our home, this is held in the highest regard.  What higher calling can there be than to bring levity and being present in the moment to a household?  Dogs achieve this without even knowing it, and we respond with genuine grateful affection -never complaining about following them, in the rain, with a plastic bag.

So, next time you come home to your guileless groupie of a companion, be sure to give him or her an extra pat and a kind word.  Enjoy the unencumbered love with shameless abandon and strive to be the person your dog thinks you are. 

Xoxo

Jean

PS.  Here are a few fun and helpful links for dog owners.  These are vetted (no pun intended) by yours truly, and highly recommended.

Pet sitting and walking services.           Call Sharon at 630-915-6912        www.4legsandaleash.com

Fun dog items delivered monthly to your door.    www.barkbox.com

Dog Grooming at Happy Tails.               9018 31^st St. Brookfield IL           708-485-6976

Musings on Emily Dickinson

Every year, in late August, I am struck by the changes in light.  The shorter days and new angles of sun spur the leaves to change, and it happens whether or not temperatures drop, or school has started.

So that is why, during the hottest week of summer 2013, it’s time to dream of autumn.  From the chill of air conditioning, out any window, I no longer see summer.  Gold is creeping in, and squirrels we have not noticed for months are in the yard, doing their squirrel work.

Emily Dickinson wrote a poem called, “The Name of It is “Autumn”, which is one of my favorites.  Emily was born to a prominent family in Amherst, Massachusetts, lived a remarkably sequestered life, and died in 1886 at the age of 56.   Taken at face value, this work is a beautiful depiction of fall landscape.  However, given that it was written in 1862, it is clear that the dark reality of the Civil War did not escape her.  She read the daily newspaper from the safety of her family home in the Northeast, and came up with this Haiku-esque beauty.

The name – of it- is “Autumn” -

The hue – of it – is Blood –

An artery – upon the Hill –

A vein – along the Road –

Great Globules – in the Alleys –

And Oh, the Shower of Stain –

When Winds, upset the Basin –

And spill the Scarlet Rain –

It sprinkles Bonnets - far below –

It gathers ruddy Pools –

Then – Eddies like a rose – Away

Upon Vermillion Wheels –

Now, since Emily never married, and by all accounts scarcely left her parent’s home or even her own room, I leave you with the following poem to ponder.  She did not tend to title her work, just assign it a number.  This one is 506.  I find fascinating the fact that such a proper and reclusive lady had a rich, inner life.  But in this case, it sure sounds like somebody was getting some action…  Just sayin’.

He touched me, so I live to know
That such a day, permitted so
I groped upon his breast
It was a boundless place to me
And silenced, as the awful sea
Puts minor streams to rest

And now, I'm different from before
As if I breathed superior air
Or brushed a Royal Gown
My feet, too, that had wandered so
My Gypsy face—transfigured now
To tenderer Renown

Into this Port, if I might come
Rebecca, to Jerusalem
Would not so ravished turn
Nor Persian, baffled at her shrine
Lift such a Crucifixial sign
To her imperial Sun

Well, how about that?  The last stanza is a bit convoluted - but the first two?  Come on! 

My habit of irreverence aside, today I invite you to take a few minutes and ponder this woman’s rich inner life and written legacy, coming to you from a far away Autumn.

xoxo

jean