Lately I’ve been diligently working on developing Pam Webb, debut picture book author, but I do miss those Cricket Muse days of somewhat anonymously posting this and that. I especially miss sparring with Mike Allegra, famed children’s author and blogster of humorous doodle repartee. Mike—if you are out there, send me a sign all is well. Thanks—
Speaking of signs (and Mike would no doubt chortle)…
Someone or some persons over the last several years have taken to stop sign graffiti. Scattered throughout our fair town are numerous, and often hilarious messages added to the stop signs. Here are a few :
This is only half of the collection. Someone or persons have been busy. The police chief doesn’t seem that concerned about the vandalism, in fact, he gave the impression the messages are part of the greater picture of what makes our town unique. And who can stop people from expressing their opinion?
What stop expression would you sneak up on a sign?
June 14th. It’s Flag Day and it’s my birthday. It’s embarrassing to admit, but clear up to the age of twelve, I believed my mother that the neighborhood, in recognition of my birthday, hung their flags out. You would think I would have become a bit suspicious of her story’s validity since there were flags out all over the town. Maybe I simply believed that strongly in my mother’s influence.
Birthdays have always been a big deal for me. Growing up with flags unfurled can do that, I suppose. However, as the candles marked the increase of years, my enthusiasm has decreased for acknowledging my yearly passage. Unless it’s a big deal year—as in significant. Fifty was a big deal year. Not because 50 is a big deal—rather it was because my first grandchild was born the next day. That’s right, the next day. We missed sharing the same birthday by that much. This year, 2020, is not a big deal year. Two years from now, yes. Not this year. In fact, with the pandemic on, and the family separated, and in isolation, I’m not expecting much. I will hang my flag out though.
As for birthday songs, that’s another reflection of note. I’ve never understood the traditional birthday song. It’s morose sounding and usually sung off key. Trevor Noah provides an enlightening dissertation on the birthday song. He grew up with a much better version.
Years ago, my mom and step-dad began calling up and leaving a rendition of the birthday song on the answering machine. I had never heard that version before, and even though two retired permanent-status snowbirds sang it pitch unaware, it became a highlight of my birthday. Sadly, my step-dad passed away last May. No more songs, and Mom is too sad to sing solo. Yet, I discovered the song in a movie—a Disney movie called The Emperor’s New Groove. I don’t think the folks watched that movie, maybe if Barbra Streisand had been one of the voices, she would have, so I am wondering where they got their birthday song. I will have to ask her. In the meantime I will go find my flag.
Do you have a Flag Day birthday? Then happy birthday. May you have a happy birthday song sung to you!
I managed to go to school without any experience with Shakespeare (yeah, how did that happen?) I can easily relate to my student’s bewilderment when we begin our drama unit. Freshmen study Romeo and Juliet, sophomores experience Julius Caesar, juniors skip Shakespeare to study American Literature (The Crucible), and depending on the teacher, students have a range of selection from an overview of the comedies to a dive into tragedy with Merchant of Venice, Hamlet, or Macbeth.
I am usually prepared for groans from my sophomores when I announce we are studying Shakespeare. “Not again!” “We did him last year.” “Shakespeare is so boring.” Instead of coming up with excuses and defending our Wily Bard of Stratford, I agree with them. This gets me some interesting looks–most def.
I do agree with my students. Shakespeare can be boring, or at least his plays were until I got the hang of them. Watching, let alone reading the plays, was painful to endure, and I felt I could never get anywhere, no matter how hard I tried. Then again, learning how to ski was painful, and I wondered if I would ever get down the mountain without a initiating a yard sale. Hmm, I should use this analogy with my students since they have grown up with a mountain in their backyard.
Here are two thoughts on Shakespeare:
“I am more easily bored with Shakespeare, and have suffered more ghastly evenings with him, than with any dramatist I know.” Peter Brook, English theatre director
“We find Shakespeare boring because we’re lazy. We’re not willing to get through the language. That’s the only barrier. If a play is performed right by those who are properly trained, after about twenty minutes you won’t be aware of the language because the human story is so strong.” –David Suchet, actor
What are your experiences with Shakespeare? Bored, frustrated, from having to endure year after year of his plays in school? Perhaps initially bored, but then the story unfolds and the words are no longer a barrier and serve as a contribution to the experience? Or maybe you grew to appreciate him with time and experience?
One of my standout memories of teaching my favorite play, Hamlet–sorry, I do mention that often, don’t I?–is after we wrapped up the unit, one student, from my regular, not AP class, stayed behind. “You know I’m going to miss discussing Hamlet, I really got to like this play.” He grew thoughtful. “I can’t discuss Shakespeare with my father.”
I never discussed Shakespeare with my father either. But I sure discuss him with my own children when I get the chance. Shakespeare boring? Not for long. Hang in there, dig in your poles, don’t cross your ski tips, and you will enjoy the thrill of going from snowplow to slalom. That applies to skiing as well.
Yup, it’s birthday time for William. He had a much bigger party six years ago when he hit the big 450. All over the world people celebrated the genius of the man from Stratford-Upon-Avon.
How does a person offer birthday congrats to someone who has given so much to the world in terms of literature and themed studies of human nature? Royalties, maybe. Wouldn’t that be a welcome stimulus check in the mailbox? Films, books, plays, mugs, t-shirts, buttons, toys, business names, and so much more are derived from Shakespeare. From what I have researched about his personality, I’m sure he would be amused at the adulation. He would probably discount it towards misshapen apparitions of misguided judgement.
I must offer some sort of tribute to Bill on his birthday. Hmm, how about something acknowledging my appreciation for one of his most amazing works: Hamlet. Yes, Hamlet once again. The Muppets had their say last month, now it is time for Veggie Tales to lend their muse to this timeless play of the troubled Prince of Danes or is that Danish?
Having just enjoyed a lovely Valentine’s Day weekend (actually it was a gotta-get-outta-the-snow escape) I am relaxed and ready with a new outlook that should see me through the rest of winter. Longer days and bluer skies make a difference in maintaining a cheerful outlook.
As a celebrant of fresher weather ahead, I’ve pulled some words out of storage that produced a bit a happy when first discovered.
1. kvell: to be extraordinarily pleased; especially to be bursting with pride, as over one’s family.
2. persiflage: light bantering talk or writing.
3. rax: to stretch oneself, as after napping [nite: it took four times for auto-check that “rax” is the word I actually wanted, not “fax” or even “dad”]
4. prevenance: special care in anticipating or catering to the needs and pleasures of others.
5. gallimaufry: a hodgepodge; humble;confused medley.
6. snarf: to eat quickly and voraciously [I didn’t realize this is a legitimate word–it’s been a part of my lexicon ever so long].
7. deipnosophist: a person who is an adept conversationalist at a meal.
8. oneiric: of or relating to dreams.
9. trangam: an odd gadget; trinket.
10. flaneur: idler; dawdler; loafer [thus definition doesn’t describe the full concept–go here to discover what a flaneur is all about].
Shakespeare must have experienced a few discouraging winters when he penned the lines for Richard III: “The winter of our discontent.”
Although the line is more metaphorical than literal, concerning rulership and kingly reign, it is a line that reverberates and has been applied to other aspects. Britain claimed in the late seventies with strikes occurring during a freezing winter, and Steinbeck borrowed it as well.
However, Shakespeare’s line aptly fits my present state of mind. Our corner of the world has experienced a ramshackle winter of excessive snowfall followed by excessive rain, which makes for interesting conditions—much like existing in a 7-11 Slurpee cup. Then there is the continuous grey or gray, if you prefer, days. The sky casts the muted shades of blahness, and the snow is no longer a cheery pristine. I call January and February the Oatmeal Days of winter: gray and lumpy all around.
Not that I really believe in the predictions of Old Puxy, but it’s some kind of wonderful when the thought of spring is that much closer. The first Sunday of February made me a believer of prognosticating groundhogs as blue skies and sunshine greeted the day. Even though it was a bracing 36 degrees, I bundled up and sat outside and soaked up as much heliotherapy as I could before the chill penetrated my enjoyment.
And then the respite ended. Back to the slog of rain and snow, which triggers my discontent.
Having had that momentary blue sky day, I realized it’s not the snow that undermines my temporal happiness– it’s the lack of color. The sameness everyday is a mood quencher. Therefore, I have devised my own therapy.
If I can’t count on blue sky winters I will bring color to my own delight.
These attempts to brighten my outlook seem to help, especially when I see the forecast is once again gloomy. Winter can create discontent, yet I can always add a little color content to become content.
Ah, January. Mixed feelings about this calendar month. While I embrace turning the corner into a new year with all that freshness and anticipation that goes with flipping to a new date, I do not embrace how January in our parts is the “definitely winter is here” month. For instance:
Overnight storm compilation. More to come *sigh*
A bit of the doldrums occur in January, what with the cold weather, shorter days, lack of landscape color, and growing stack of assignments to grade as the semester’s close approaches.
This month’s collection of words calls for amusing, or downright quirky lexicon.
1. pawky: cunning, sly
2. pettifog: to bicker or quibble over insignificant matters
3. jactation: boasting; bragging
4. fecund: creative intellectually
5. appellative: a descriptive name as Reepicheep the Valiant
6. orgulous: haughty; proud
7. remora: hindrance or obstacle
8. fulgrant: flashing like lightning
9. omphaloskepsis: contemplating one’s navel
10. daffing: merriment; playful behavior
Hmm, during the remainder of January I shall endeavor to be pawky in how to approach my doldrums in order to avoid fulgrant irritability that leads to pettifog since an abundance of snow is a remora to becoming fecund.Perhaps I shall become so stoic and earn an appellative name: Cricket the Winter Muse, then again that might entail jactation leading to an orgulous reputation. On the other hand excess winter could cause my resolve to slip into dithering and omphaloskepsis.
‘Tis December and 2019 is rapidly diminishing. Time to air out the Word Bin and see what needs clearing out to make room for next year’s batch of dictionary delights.
1. nugacity: triviality; insignificance
2. librate: to remain poised or balanced
3. neoteric: new or recent
4. facetiae: witty or amusing remarks or writing
5. obscurantism: the opposition of the spread of knowledge
6. anthophobia: an unnatural fear of flowers
7. frisson: a sudden thrill of emotion
8. guddle: to catch a fish with one’s hands in a river or stream
9. bombinate: to make a humming or buzzing noise
10. perspicacity: a keenness of mental perception
11. alameda: a public walk shaded with trees
12. otiose: indolent; idle; being at ease
13. Delphic: obscure; ambiguous
14. nebulated: having distinct markings as in a bird or animal
15. orgulous: haughty or proud
Now that the Word Bin is a bit tidier I look forward to filling it full once again. Honestly, I’m not sure how some of these words snuck into the company of the others. Guddle? Librate? Frisson? Not sure when those will come up in conversation. Then one never knows. Excuse me while I go chase down these liberated diction.
November is a conundrum, being a month that offers a mixture of pleasantries and of trauma.
First off, how can one hour wreak absolute havoc? The bonus of getting extra sleep when setting the clock back one hour quickly becomes a bad trade off since my body clock doesn’t easily adjust.
I’m one of those people who doesn’t need to set an alarm clock. No matter when I go to bed I wake up at 5 am. Sleeping in is an ideal, not a reality. DST now creates the dilemma of the time read on my bedside table blaring “4 am” in red LED numerals. Gah.
It takes until spring, about the time we spring forward, that my body clock reconciles the hour difference.
Another November trial is PTC—Parent Teacher Conferences. Our district provides two nights (after working a full day) where teachers are available to parents. As much as I enjoy meeting parents, it’s a tough schedule, especially since that hour sleep deprivation is amplified by a week. I hope parents don’t think their student’s teacher is a zombie because after a week of disturbed sleep cycle I am definitely feeling zombi-ish.
Fortunately, the long two days trades out nicely as it applies to two days off which coincides with Thanksgiving week. Having a week off after PTC while dealing with DST having graded a stack of SPRPs (Senior Project Research Papers) is definitely appreciated.
And I do enjoy thanksgiving. No holiday shopping hype. No endless rounds of obligatory events to attend. No gifts to stress about. Nope. Food, friends, family. Now, that’s what I call a grand holiday.
One another aspect of November that is irksome is the night factor. Having the sunset earlier and earlier each night means driving home in the dark which initiates the feeling I’m working the swing swift in the coal mines. After working inside all day stepping outside into the light is a necessity. Good thing D3 is inexpensive and I thank whomever for inventing the Happy Light.
November also begins the season which features that four letter word, and its presence stays among us much too long in the area of which I call home. Shiver, shudder, and grumble.
So—November is a bit of a trial, yet knowing there is a pumpkin pie waiting for me at the end of the month makes losing sleep, grading papers, working two twelve hour days, and dealing with that which shall not be named, a bit easier to swallow.
August—I barely got to know July. August is the wind down month of summer. July is mostly vacationing and relaxing and reading and visiting–lots of ongoing “ing” things in July.
August whispers “school” a little bit louder as each calendar day flips by. I like school, teaching, my students–I just like summer vacation to last a bit longer.
This month’s words represent an assortment of ideas related to the last month of summer.
ken: knowledge, understanding, or cognizance; mental perceptions (I have a ken that school is starting sooner than later at this point of summer).
tub-thump: to promote something or express opinions vociferously (There are those who tub-thump whether school should start in August or in September).
velitation: a minor dispute or contest (See above concerning school start times).
grok: to understand thoroughly and intuitively (This is from Stranger in a Strange Land by Robert Heinlein–I grok that summer is special due to its ephemeral nature).
ferly: something unusual, strange, or causing wonder or terror (The August fair usually has a ferly–like those weird vegetables that show up in displays–you know, the zucchini that resembles Richard Nixon or the monstrously large rabbit in the 4H competition).
mump: to mumble; mutter (I’m trying not to mump about summer dissipating).
brontide: a rumbling noise heard occasionally in some parts of the world, probably caused by seismic activity (A brontide was reported last August on the 31 as families stampeded Walmart to purchase school supplies before started after Labor Day).
makebate: a person who causes contention or discord (Who wants to be the makebate who meets people in the store and says, “Only 9 days until our first staff meeting).
calescent: growing warm; increasing in heat (The first week of school usually produces calescent classrooms due to the school not bothering to install air conditioning because heat exhaustion helps retain information. At least that’s what the theory must have been when they built the school).
littoral: or or relating to the shore of a lake, sea, or ocean (This is not to be confused with “literally,” as in “I will literally be littoral, grabbing last minute beach time before school starts).
prima facie: plain or clear; self-evident; obvious (Yes, my denial of the inevitability of school starting soon smacks of prima facie realization).
ineluctable: incapable of being evaded; inescapable (The ineluctable red calender circles indicate the end of summer and the start of staff meetings).
fillip: anything that tends to rouse, excite, or revive; a stimulus (Labor Day weekend is definitely a fillip, in terms of celebrating one last weekend without grading essays).
rutilant: glowing or glittering with ruddy or golden light (those rutilant summer evenings after the last rays of the sun radiates through the trees–*sigh*).
totsiens: until we meet again; goodbye (See ya, summer–totsiens, for now).
And what summer-flavored word might have been your favorite? Pick two or three…