BABY MISTAKES

One thing I like about writing is my ability to erase words that don’t fit.

I can type, “Lucy detected a faint smell when she entered the room.”

If a rotten potato is in the kitchen, I can erase the word “smell” and type, “Lucy detected a faint odor when she entered the room.”

Or if roses are on the counter, I can erase the word “odor” and type, “Lucy detected a faint fragrance when she entered the room.”

Eventually, I find the right word without having to correct myself in public.

If that were only possible in daily conversations!

This week, I sat in the middle school guidance counselor’s office with my son to register him for high school. When the counselor joined us, she didn’t recognize me.

“We have met before,” I told her during the introduction. “Our babies played baseball on the same team last year.”

As soon as the word “babies” flew out of my mouth, I wanted to backspace and change the noun to “children,” “boys,” “sons” – any term but “babies.”

The word does not come close to describing the young men we watched defend bases and score runs on the baseball diamond last spring.

But the conversation couldn’t be rewritten.

The word hung in the air like an unpleasant scent as my “baby” signed up for classes in economics, physics, literature and foreign language.

When we left the guidance office, my son said, “Babies? Really, Mom?”

As I watched him head down the school hallway back to class, the word choice still stung.

My son’s voice has changed. He’s taller than me. He wears a size 13 shoe. He’s “a teen,” “a young man,” “a strong athlete.”

All this is true. But he’s still my baby.

-- cawk

WRITING SEASONS

I’ve noticed that my writing habits change with the seasons.

During the winter, my subjects are close by. Because of the frigid temperatures and inclement weather, I don’t venture out much, so I write about what I experience at home; what I see from my window; or what I consider to be mundane, like washing dishes or watering indoor plants. I spend a lot of time reading about writing and listening to stories about authors and poets on the radio.

As the days start to grow longer and my daffodils begin to push up, my writing also springs forward. I choose brighter subjects and write more in color than in black-and-white. My themes generate more hope; my characters act more silly than staunch; and my settings venture beyond the most familiar.

During the summer, I relax as I write. I take my time with few deadlines. I sit outside by the beach or in my backyard or at the park. I’m comfortable in the sunshine. I sip on lemonade or enjoy a water ice. I walk and think. I play tennis and think. I ride my bicycle and think. Writing seems easy and fun. I get lots of ideas.

But as autumn approaches, I’m ready to fall into a routine once again. I want to connect my scraps of writing into something more solid. I want to improve my skills with workshops and classes. I once again vow to dedicate more time to my craft.

My habits may shift with the seasons, but my desire to write continues its cycle.

-- cawk

CHAPTER CHALLENGE

My son’s elementary school has begun a new program called the 100 Chapter Challenge.

Each student is encouraged to read 100 chapters of fiction or nonfiction between now and May 24. I figure that is about a chapter a day, with lots of cushion.

My son should have no problem meeting the goal. He takes a book to read almost everywhere he goes.

He reads in the car. He reads waiting for the school bus. He reads on vacation. I pry books from his hands because he falls asleep reading in bed.

I’m constantly reminding him that we don’t read books at the dinner table. We don’t read books during his brother’s band concerts. We don’t read books at someone else’s house when we are invited to a party.

I can’t leave the house without my keys and purse; he can’t leave without his book and baseball cap.

He is an avid reader, constantly discovering truths about his surroundings and the world through the words on a page.

As I looked at the empty grid his teacher sent home to tally chapters during this event, I realized how little I read literature anymore.

I used to be more like my son. I got ready for school with a blow dryer in one hand and a paperback in the other. I could spend a whole afternoon sitting outside sipping on lemonade and reading fiction. Each night, I faithfully read a chapter or more before turning off my bedroom lights.

I miss the solid feeling of holding a book, the joy of reading a surprise ending and the pleasure of getting to know characters in classical works. I want to travel through the pages of a novel. I want to cry, laugh and take risks just by turning a page. I want to satisfy my curiosity and judge people’s actions without shame.

As an adult, I’ve become a snippet reader – clicking on pieces of news on the internet and flipping through simple magazines. Surrounded by responsibilities, I feel guilty if I sit down for a moment during the daytime hours, and even guiltier if I sit down to read a best-selling novel.

But reading is as essential to my quality of life as vitamins and exercise. Taking in a good book relaxes me, entertains me, educates me, and stretches my mind and creativity. Indulging in a well-written story is so much better than watchingTV.

So I’m turning off the evening sitcoms, printing out an extra grid and joining the 100 Chapter Challenge with my son. I can’t wait to see how our story ends.

-- cawk

 

Possessions-with short glossary

Possessions

If one writes poems today
Heedless of how the wind blew
Come tomorrow     What may
So  Who? You or me? Will pay.

To live or exist without possessions

Could be compared to freedom
As in nothing else to lose
Do you'all wish to be them.

Whacky though this may seem, or is that seam

When you are fourteen stories high
Would you choose to step off the beam?
Or simply grab what good can buy.

Often then the best went askew

Before anyone thought it through
Has the indictment been proven?
We all weren't groovin' .

Notwithstanding,   you may sing and dance

If its past, then went the chance
Drummend out by its own beat
Now that's quite a feat.

In all this parlance, as expressed herein

Not a play on words today
Have we been reminded
We are proven simply human.

Choices we have to make

To not allow the good to be the enemy of the best
To live within the rules and not jest
Recognize my Higher Power and not bake.

Since I live not as an island nor glum

My time on earth not a pun
As I live and pray under the sun
Exchange words, work, aide, smiles with aplomb.
© John Witkowski 1/1/13

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Aplomb- poise  balance

Seam- where edges come together- where two are joined and become one; a joint- a play on              words   what would a seem seam be? a fake. a fantasy. not be realy real!
Heedless- careless attention; reckless lack of attention; not paying attention
Them- the possessions / or the possessors? the haves as vs the have nots. or more more.
Beam- as of a skelton of a building; a girder a steel beam of a building during construction
Wisdom- ability to discern differences
Bake- as in an oven;; or hell
Glum-sullen; gloomy
Pun- humorous; as in a joke; or funny use of a word
Parlance- talking back and forth; words; language, communication

HOMEWORK

I’m being homeschooled by my fifth grader.

He doesn’t realize he’s my teacher. But each morning I check his homework, and he gives me a lesson on the basics of grammar and writing.

Most of the worksheets I check are review for me. This quarter, they were lessons on subjects and predicates, proper nouns, subject and verb agreement, verbs with direct objects and using correct verb tenses. These are principles I use each day in my writing but haven’t thought about in years.

I look forward to spending this time together. We discuss why his answers are right or wrong. He explains each lesson, and I give him feedback on the papers he writes. Sometimes I try the writing assignment myself while he is at school and ask him for a critique when he gets home.

His passion for the subject of English is not as strong as mine. But he likes being the teacher, and I like getting an education.

--cawk

WHISPERING WISPS

Quiet the din in my mind
Come softly into my soul
Lift my heart Lord and bind
Sustenance here from a silo.
 
This simple request
As part of Your behest
Too fast too much  too slow
As we wait here below.
 
Would we persist
If the effort provides bliss
Working playing existing
Not looking but finding a new twist.
 
Calmer now tis true
The sadness cleansed with a brew
Tea that is today
Accepting at work and play.
 
Acceptance being key
Briefs to a spot
A place where we be
No more living  up a tree.
 
At peace today with my lot
Can exist … live throughout the plot
No more visions seems
Again excepting my being.
 
The actors act
Directors direct
Players play
We win when we pray.
 
Recognizing the Supreme
Cleansed therefore clean
Laughing   living   giving
Smiles for all believing.
 
You ask how to do this
All the above are guides
For us actors to be players and twist
Ourselves to act around and provides.
 
This is to say
Allow this trust
As we pray
Keep it simple, this is a must.

Are you wrung out now

We reap what we sow
Plowing under each breath
Which would reap a lift from beneath.
 
Out from under the pile
Keep us show us forwith
Deeds which freed
As He provides , the feast.

Wheh! What a ride

It has lost pride
Taking today as tis is
Be at peace indeed bliss.
©JohnWitkowski120912

Has the writer found something or experienced something profound?

Is he at peace with his surroundings?
What are the last three stanza s really about?
Are we players or spectators or have we totally been away from living.

Books on Shelves

About once a week, I volunteer at my son’s school library, so I get to see what the elementary crowd is reading.

The popular non-fiction books center around jokes, dogs and how to draw cartoon characters. The popular fiction authors include Rick Riordan, Dan Gutman, J.K. Rowling and Roald Dahl.

Part of my job is to shelve books. I have a huge appreciation for the Dewey Decimal System. But the easiest books to shelve are the ones that are part of a series. I don’t have to read tiny numbers and letters on the book spines to find each of their spots. Some of the series take up a whole row in the stacks so they are easy to find.

I used to shelve a lot of Mary Pope Osborne’s Tree House books, Gertrude Chandler Warner’s Boxcar Children stories and Cam Jansen mysteries.

Now my son is older. He and his friends read a lot of books about Lemony Snicket’s Series of Unfortunate Events, Erin Hunter’s Warrior Cats and Trenton Lee Stewart’s Mysterious Benedict Society.

I’m in awe of these authors, coming up with well-written stories that become classics and children’s favorites. The authors not only write one success, they write many.

Ever since I opened my first Nancy Drew detective book, I’ve wanted to write a series of novels that people would enjoy and that library volunteers and staff all over the world would have to shelve according to the Dewey Decimal System.

 But I’ve found that reading the books with my son is much easier than writing them. Writing is hard work.

--cawk