Pam Webb

a writer's journey as a reader

Archive for the category “reflections”

20 May 2014
4 Comments

Bargain Bin Book Bonazas


At a local warehouse clothing sale I unexpectedly found a tier of gift books.  At a couple of dollars a piece I grabbed up a few.  It proved a difficult choice as they ranged from the secret lives of cats to how to dress cool instead of never cool (I kid you not).  There were also cutesy books like how to enjoy incense and candles.  I passed on those.  A match is all I need to understand those two.  Okay, maybe there are a couple of things I could learn, but when I came across these I couldn’t resist:

1. The Gregg Reference Manual (ninth edition) by William A. Sabin
Of course I already have my Strunk and White, How to Not Write Bad, and various college textbooks sitting on my shelf, yet who can resist a grammar handboook. I can’t. And because I don’t need it I decide to give it to my youngest progeny who admittedly wants to get his there, its, and yours figured out once and for all.

2. Leadership Courage by David Cottrell and Eric Harvey
Definitely a gift book for the youngest because he is into building up a business and is always talking about all these amazing leadership books he’s reading, so he most certainly needs another one.

3. Shakespeare’s Sonnets by William Shakespeare
For  the oldest son, I couldn’t pass up this slim volume of the Bard’s best.  I bought it because every young man who is looking for the perfect soul mate should have at least a couple of sonnets up his sleeve.  He received it graciously, if not warily. I  was amused to overhear him say the line, “Hey, I have a sonnet and I know how to use, so back off.”  I’m pretty sure he was kidding.  A loaded sonnet is nothing to mess with.  I have cautioned him on the power of verse.

4.  How to Say It Style Guide by Rosalie Maggio
Yes, another reference book. With two boyos in business they each need their handy dandy grammer guide.

 

 

Finding books on sale is always a bonus.  And being able to give them away is the best bonus.  Have any of you found any bin bonuses lately?

Oh, all images are from amazon.com.

Posted in Books, reflections, reviews, Writing and tagged , , , , , ,
14 May 2014
4 Comments

Costco: Warehouse Candy for Book Boosters


Recently we gifted the youngest progeny with a Costco membership and instead of being thrilled with loading up on cheap eats, he headed for the book aisle, practically leaving a trail of slavering as he beelined over to the miles of titles.

“Mum, look at all these!” he gushed. Looking over from my own browsing I could see him transfixed by a display of author works, the ones with the fancy covers and decorative texts.  The librarian teacher that I am can only smile and hum like llama in my happiness.  It’s so wonderful to have hatched a reader amongst the brood.* Especially since he was a late bloomer in the reading arena.

While I prefer to keep my frequent flyer status at our local library, our youngest dreams of houseplans that include a generous library. “And, of course, I will have you come organize my collection, Mum.” Aah, these are retirement plans in the making.

*the other kiddos are readers too, how could they not be with an English teacher librarian for a Mum? However, this particular kiddo gets as excited about the whole sensory aspect of reading as I do. Is there a book geek gene?

Anyone else hit the book aisle first before launching out to fill their Costco cart? Even before snarfing the vendor snackies?

Posted in America, Books, reflections and tagged , , ,
11 May 2014

Why We Say: #8 (a backstock of Bs)


Well, Well…

I haven’t run a “Why We Say” since December. Tsk. Not wanting to disappoint I will make up the lost months in a bevy of Bs. Five months equal five reasonings for “Why We Say”–

 

1. Springtime is April showers and May flowers and baseball!  It is appropriate we begin our first B with Baseball Fan. Back when newspaper ruled the news, there would be great competition for space. Naturally, if a longer word could be exchanged for a shorter one, or if a long one could be condensed, the switch was made.  Charles Haas, apparently is the reason we now refer to sports enthusiasts as “fans.”  He was credited as being the greatest baseball “fanatic,” which became shortened to “fan” once it hit the press pages.  And here I thought “fan” referred to the paper waving needed for those hot days in the stands.

 

2. “Oh quit beating around the bush, and just tell me what you think!” Have you ever been accused of holding back information? If so, this statement might be flung at you. You might not realize how foxy you’re being by holding back from your audience.  Back in the day, hunters wanting to rout foxes from their hiding spots in the bushes, would send someone to beat the bushes to scare out the tawny evaders.  Not wanting to become some ladies fur stole, the foxes would learn to keep hidden, which meant it took a long time to get a fox to pop out.  The “aha” moment with this phrase: sometimes it takes someone a long time to get to the point of the story.

 

3. Do you suffer from getting in tight spots? Do you sigh at the getting behind, just when you thought you had it all in order? Do you wish you could be a winner, instead of being a loser?  If you checked “yes” to any of these questions, you will then most certainly relate to the expression “Behind the Eight Ball.” This expression is derived from the pool game of rotation, where each ball is played except the eight ball. If the eight ball blocks your shot, you have basically lost the game.

4. “I would love to be in your shoes.” This one makes sense all on its own.  It’s simple, right?  It simply means we want to trade places.  That’s true and then some.  Let’s go back as far as 1834 in England. At that time children who were to be adopted would step into their new father’s shoes to stress the importance of the new connection and family ties.  “Shoes me, are you my new dad?”

image: 74211.com

 

5.  With spring comes summer and with summer comes weddings.  Ooh, I love a summer wedding and I am so disappointed when I don’t get to go to at least one summer nuptial exchange.  I love the chance to actually dress up, mix and mingle with old and new acquaintances, eat, drink, and be merry and best of all I enjoy watching the bride and groom exchange their commitment to one another.  I look forward to the wedding theme and the fashions.  How many bridesmaid? Will the best man be serious? Or will he pull the old “ring, what ring?” routine.  The best man is naturally the groom’s best friend or close relation, and it’s a place of honor.  This custom stems from centuries ago (primarily in Europe) most weddings took place at night (don’t know the reason on that one–research time) and it wasn’t unheard of to have the rival come swooping in an attempt to kidnap the bride. One precaution against this shocking, and irritating practice, was to have the groom’s men stand guard during the service.  The main guard would be the groom’s most trusted or best man. Tuxedos optional with swords?

 

Next month B on the lookout for some more Bewildering “Why We Says.”  Until next time…

Posted in Expressions, reflections, Words, Writing and tagged , , | Leave a comment
08 May 2014
1 Comment

Updated Momisms


Mother’s Day has taken on new meaning having become an Empty Nester. The kiddos have flown the coop, starting their own lives, and while I’m still, and will always be their Mum, I don’t expect or need a big flautin’ tootin’ acknowledgement of being their mother.  Thanks, but not needed, Hallmark.  Another calendar guilt day.  Whoa–wait–stop–I didn’t mean to go in this quasi-negative direction. Of course, getting a card or phone call or even flowers is sweet and appreciated, but everyday I’m reminded that it is so cool I’m a mom of three very lovely children who have become adult just that fast. The youngest turned 21 in March and the oldest will be turning the *yikes* 29 in June.  How’d that happen?  Wasn’t it moments ago I was telling them:

  • Hey! I’m your mother not the maid. Pick up your stuff!
  • Don’t make me come back there!
  • Just try one bite–
  • It’s your brother’s turn to pick the movie.
  • No, I don’t have money for candy.
  • You can have one–I said one.
  • Not before dinner.

Now that they are adults, I find the following conversationals happening:

  • How’s work going?
  • Is this a “friend” or a friend?
  • Do you need gas money?
  • What are you doing for the holidays?
  • Is it okay if Pops and I come over?
  • Do you want to meet at the restaurant?

Yes, I notice they tend to be questions rather than statements?  Why is that? Maybe it’s because I can’t really tell my kids to get a haircut, or that they should tidy up their apartment anymore.  But I guess I do. *Sigh* I really can’t stop being a mother so easily.  There is not switch off once the kinder become A-dults.  That Mom drive just keeps going.

So, this post is dedicated to my children.  You make Mother’s Day happen everyday–not only some designated May Sunday.

And this is why I wrote that essay that got in Chicken Soup for the Soul: The Multitasking Mom’s Survival Guide. 

Now that you have all moved out and have your own lives I finally do have “A Little Piece of Quiet.”

Loves and Hugs, Mum

Chicken Soup Cover

Image: Amazon Inspiration: My Very Own Progeny (psst…story #10)

 

 

 

 

 

Posted in America, Books, celebrations, children, creativity, Family, holidays, reflections, time management, Writing and tagged , , , , ,
01 May 2014

Adieu, Adieu Sweet Month of Muse


national-poetry-month

I agree with Juliet, “Parting is such sweet sorrow.” April is a busy, busy month with its heralding of spring, removal of snow tires, paying of taxes, celebrating Billy Bard’s birthday, prepping for AP exams, and musing upon poems. I started loading my April blog calendar back in December as I discovered poems and poets I would pre-schedule them and now the days are spent and I am a bit bereft as I head into May. Whatever shall I fill my May days with?  It is ever so nice to have a theme for a month, like poetry for April. May will probably become my mish-mash month. I have several posties that I’ve been saving that don’t relate to anything except that I like them–sorta serendipity finds.

As I bid adieu to April I shall reflect:

  • Gathering poets for most of the year is akin to Saturday yard sale mornings as I scout for treasures to stuff in my bag
  • I appreciate poetry more and more as I become more and more involved with the reading of it
  • Having Billy Bard’s 450th birthday in the middle of National Poetry Month was absolute icing on the loveliest of cakes
  • Passing out poems to my students on April 24 for National Poem in Your Pocket Day is a blast–reactions range from excited anticipation of reading their poem to leaving them on the floor–which is about par for poetry (love it or leave it)
  • My school superintendent emailed me that I encouraged him to read a sonnet in my postscript to enjoy Shakespeare’s birthday
  • I decorated my hallway in recognition of Shakespeare’s birthday and convinced the journalism department to put it in the school’s daily video. Well, it’s not everyday a person is 450 years old…

 

Displaying photo.JPG

 

I look forward to May. School is winding down, weather is heating up, and the countdown to summer break begins.  Here is to May and all its blooming good days

24112-teacher_at_desk

Waiting out the days of May to slip into June

Posted in Blogging, Poetry, reflections, Seasons, Teachers, Writing and tagged , , , , , , | Leave a comment
30 Apr 2014

Poetry Workshop: Sestina


I thought there has been enough recovery time since the last workshop, which focused on the villanelle.  So, let’s move on to the sestina.

 

 

The image above intimates that the sestina can be neatly labeled.  Hmm, perhaps not.  Below is a famous example by Elizabeth Bishop.  I do like her work, if I haven’t mentioned that before.  This offering is simply called, “Sestina.”

September rain falls on the house.
In the failing light, the old grandmother
sits in the kitchen with the child
beside the Little Marvel Stove,
reading the jokes from the almanac,
laughing and talking to hide her tears.

She thinks that her equinoctial tears
and the rain that beats on the roof of the house
were both foretold by the almanac,
but only known to a grandmother.
The iron kettle sings on the stove.
She cuts some bread and says to the child,

It’s time for tea now; but the child
is watching the teakettle’s small hard tears
dance like mad on the hot black stove,
the way the rain must dance on the house.
Tidying up, the old grandmother
hangs up the clever almanac

on its string. Birdlike, the almanac
hovers half open above the child,
hovers above the old grandmother
and her teacup full of dark brown tears.
She shivers and says she thinks the house
feels chilly, and puts more wood in the stove.

It was to be, says the Marvel Stove.
I know what I know, says the almanac.
With crayons the child draws a rigid house
and a winding pathway. Then the child
puts in a man with buttons like tears
and shows it proudly to the grandmother.

But secretly, while the grandmother
busies herself about the stove,
the little moons fall down like tears
from between the pages of the almanac
into the flower bed the child
has carefully placed in the front of the house.

Time to plant tears, says the almanac.
The grandmother sings to the marvelous stove
and the child draws another inscrutable house

Anything standout? Anything noticeable?  Yes, there are repeating words. Six of them. Nicely done. Sestina–six: yup, there is a definite connection.

A sestina according to the Bing dictionary:

  1. Definition of sestina (n)

    Bing Dictionary
    • ses·ti·na
    • [ se stéenə ]
    1. form of poem: a poem of six six-line stanzas and a three-line envoy or, with the last words of the first six lines repeated, in different order, at the ends of the other lines

Using Bishop’s model, let’s explore how that really works.

Oh, by the way–if you are one of those who groove on numbers more than poetry, you will really like sestinas, because it’s all about patterns.

Okay. Here we go:

The structure of a sestina, in this case, Bishop’s “Sestina,” is six stanzas of six lines with a three line envoy (the conclusion of the literary work). The pattern is: 123456; 615243; 364125; 532614; 451362; 246531 with the envoy as 531 or 135.  Return to the poem and decide which six words repeat throughout the poem.

If you really want to see how a sestina works without all the extra word wading go check out “Six Words” by Lloyd Schwartz. Very, very clever.

 

Well, that wraps up another National Poetry Month. Thanks for stopping by. I hope you learned a bit along the way, and appreciated new-to-you poets and their poetry.

 

Posted in creativity, Poetry, reflections, Words, writers, Writing and tagged , , , | Leave a comment
28 Apr 2014

Poet Appreciation #10: Abraham Lincoln


We associate Abraham Lincoln with the Civil War, tall silk hats, a famous speech, a humble man with a distinctive beard, a day off in February, and the sadness that comes when great people are struck down too soon. Connecting our sixteenth president to poetry doesn’t usually pop up in the usual sixty-second classroom brainstorm activity.  And yet, here is proof Honest Abe had so much more to him than we give him credit for.

image: history.com

My Childhood Home I See Again
by Abraham Lincoln

My childhood home I see again,

And sadden with the view;

And still, as memory crowds my brain,

There’s pleasure in it too.

O Memory! thou midway world

‘Twixt earth and paradise,

Where things decayed and loved ones lost

In dreamy shadows rise, 

 

And, freed from all that’s earthly vile, 

Seem hallowed, pure, and bright, 

Like scenes in some enchanted isle 

All bathed in liquid light. 

 

As dusky mountains please the eye 

When twilight chases day; 

As bugle-notes that, passing by, 

In distance die away; 

 

As leaving some grand waterfall, 

We, lingering, list its roar– 

So memory will hallow all 

We’ve known, but know no more. 

 

Near twenty years have passed away 

Since here I bid farewell 

To woods and fields, and scenes of play, 

And playmates loved so well. 

 

Where many were, but few remain 

Of old familiar things; 

But seeing them, to mind again 

The lost and absent brings. 

 

The friends I left that parting day, 

How changed, as time has sped! 

Young childhood grown, strong manhood gray, 

And half of all are dead. 

 

I hear the loved survivors tell 

How nought from death could save, 

Posted in America, Americans, creativity, Poetry, reflections, writers, Writing and tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment
26 Apr 2014
4 Comments

Poet Appreciation #9: Wallace Stevens


World War I affected the world in a way that changed forever our outlook on life. Losing 50,000 young men in one day alone, is a travesty of waste. Lost lives, lost dreams, lost generations have a profound impact. One section of the world culture which was touched was that of the artist in all forms. In poetry, the Modernist movement began with its focus on looking at how this brave new world affects us. T.S. Eliot is most frequented with modernist poetry with his offerings such as The Wasteland and The Lovesong ofJ. AlfredPrufrock.

Wallace Stevens

Another poet of that time, Wallace Stevens, is as important as Eliot in his contributions to Modernist poetry, although Eliot seems to pop up first in Modernist contribution conversations. Bio facts of note for Wallace:

  • didn’t get published until he 44
  • attended Harvard, but had to leave due to lack of funds
  • Editor for both of Harvard’s publications
  • His wife the model for the Liberty dime and half-dollar
  • Career primarily as an insurance lawyer
  • Won the Pulitzer Prize and National Book Award
  • His poetry collection, Harmonium, ignored by critics when first published, is now highly regarded
  • His home town of Hartford, Connecticut has a walk devoted to his blackbird poem with signs of each section along the way
  • Connoisseur of Asian art

Disillusionment of Ten O’Clock

The houses are haunted
By white night-gowns.
None are green,
Or purple with green rings,
Or green with yellow rings,
Or yellow with blue rings.
None of them are strange,
With socks of lace
And beaded ceintures.
People are not going
To dream of baboons and periwinkles.
Only, here and there, an old sailor,
Drunk and asleep in his boots,
Catches Tigers
In red weather.

Posted in Americans, birds, creativity, Literature, Nature, Poetry, reflections, writers and tagged , , , , ,
23 Apr 2014
6 Comments

Poet Appreciation #8: William Shakespeare


*Gasp* Billy Bard is celebrating his 450th birthday on the 23rd. I advise those attending the birthday party to stick to the crumpets and steer clear of the kippers, as they didn’t do ol’ William any good at his own birthday din celeb.

Would William be surprised to know how many Bardinators there are coasting about due to his most marvelous ability with words, wit, and retrofitting old tales into something more appealing?  Probably.  Ben Jonson knew his contemporary, and somewhat rival was “a man for all time.”

What better way to say “Happy Birthday, Bill!” than with a couple of his sonnets.

First, the Mona Lisa of his career:

SONNET 18

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? 
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer’s lease hath all too short a date: 
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm’d; 
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance, or nature’s changing course, untrimm’d;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st;
Nor shall Death brag thou wander’st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st; 
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee

 

Who hasn’t heard this lovely tribute of admiration? No matter how many years I’ve taught it to high school students they still “get it” and appreciate the trick ending of the couplet.  That’s what I like about Wm’s wit: it’s subtle and winking.  I think he’s winking right now as it’s being read. I’ll let Michael York recite it for you.  He gets it for sure, this is a loving tribute (don’t get shook up about it being for a man, like my freshmen do–this was supposedly to William S.’s patron, the guy who paid the bills so Wm could keep writing. Is that any different from dedicating a song or book to an agent, sibling, parent, or editor?)

Another tribute sonnet is perhaps not as complimentary, yet I think it showcases Shakespeare’s ability to take the accepted medium and poke fun at how poets tended to extol too vigorously the glories of a person, thus rendering him or her to be removed from humanity–it’s difficult to climb down off a pedestal that’s built too high. This particular sonnet at first sounds like a bash session; however, after a step back moment, it’s clear to see Shakespeare extols the real beauty of his love.  He loves this woman, warts–that is, frizzy hair, and all.

SONNET 130

My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips’ red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damask’d, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks; 
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground:
   And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
   As any she belied with false compare.

This video captures the satire of those mushy sonnets while intones the general attitude of love.  Alan Rickman and typography mash up at its best.  Wouldn’t you want Alan Rickman reciting a sonnet to you?  Check yes.

 

 

These are only a drop in the sonnet bucket.  Wills wrote 150 sonnets, far more than the 38 plays we know to be roaming about.  So why do we mostly associate him with being a playwright than a poet?  According to many historical sources, he considered himself to be more of a poet than a playwriter. Hmm, it’s easier to turn a play into a film than a sonnet, I suppose.

Once again, Happy Birthday, William!

image: facebook.com

 

Posted in celebrations, creativity, Literature, Poetry, reflections, writers, Writing and tagged , , , , ,
18 Apr 2014
2 Comments

Get Your Poems and Pockets Ready…


Get your poems and pocket ready. April 24th is National Poem in Your Pocket Day!

From Poets.org:

On Poem in Your Pocket Day, people throughout the United States select a poem, carry it with them, and share it with others throughout the day.

You can also share your poem selection on Twitter by using the hashtag #pocketpoem.

Poems from pockets are unfolded throughout the day with events in parks, libraries, schools, workplaces, and bookstores.

Create your own Poem in Your Pocket Day event using ideas below or share your creative ideas with us by emailing npm@poets.org.

 

Last year I downloaded the poems selected especially for PYPD and printed them out on colored paper and rolled them up and handed them out to students from a special canister.  They unrolled them and smiled and shared them. Yes, some ended up on the floor, but mostly my freshmen and AP seniors thought it pretty cool to have their own poem to carry around for the day.  I enjoyed watching them excitedly ask one another, “Which one did you get?”

So–you’ve got the website link, now get on it!  Get those poems ready for those pockets!

 

 

Posted in celebrations, creativity, education, Libraries, Poetry, reflections, Teachers, Words and tagged , , ,

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