Springtime, Again

I last wrote about signs of spring that are popping out all around me, and then shared my poem about springtime with you. A sure sign of spring for me is the one little crocus that seems to bloom each season beside our house. The rabbits of past winters ate the other little shoots, so only this one remains...to bloom each spring. This little crocus is my sign; my "true north" that spring is really here. Again, the poet in me speaks to this and I will share another of my poems called Enough.

Enough
Just one crocus bloomed this spring
But that was enough for me
I need just one perfect example
Of God's miracle to see
How perfect is the Universe
In all its majesty
Just one bloom
One blade of grass
One singe tree
That is enough for me.

As I type this, a thought occurs to me. When is enough, enough? How much do we have to have in our lives to be content? And in getting more than enough, who do we rob from getting "enough?" We are a very rich country indeed, and a good percentage of us has enough, and even more than enough (including me.) But there are many among us and around the world who do not have enough, and it is these people I am thinking about. How can I who has more than enough help those who do not have enough. A dilemma and a challenge. Am I doing enough? Hmmmmmm. Enough said.

A great big Happy New Year to all ! It always seems a little strange to me to think of our lives in blocks of years. If you think about it, January 1st is just the next day after December 31st but we do place significance on these milestones, I guess, as a way to see where we have been, and to enjoy, even for a brief time, the hope that the new year will bring good things our way. So far, I am waiting; the new year brought the news that my daughter lost her job due to the economy, and Sunday we were at a funeral. I think I will back up my new year, and perhaps begin it on February 1st. In any event, I still continue to be blessed with so many good things in my life that I am not complaining. One of the new year highlights for us was going to see the movie Invictus and if you have not seen it, I recommend that you not miss it. It is a chapter in the life of Nelson Mandela after his 27 years of imprisonment in South Africa when he first became the new South African president. It is also the story of his wisdom in supporting the all white (except one) rugby team, revered by whites and hated by blacks in the first step towards creating a multi-racial country. In support of this team, he manages to bring together whites and blacks in the common cause of supporting and cheering on this national rugby team all the way to the final championship. This film is an inspiration, as is Nelson Mandela, who I believe, at 91, is a prophet in our midst. Invictus is the name of the poem that Nelson Mandela read to himself every day of his 27 year imprisonment, and says that this poem kept his spirit going. The last two lines are: I am the master of my fate; I am the captain of my soul. I cannot help but think also of Victor Frankel who said during his Holocaust imprisonment that "they" could take everything from him except his spirit and soul; that was his to control and keep. This movie is an inspiration.

Pet Peeves

I thought I would begin a list of "pet peeves" that might make you relate, feel connected in our mutual annoyances, and give you an opportunity to add some of your own. This is an annoying world we live in, that is for sure, and we have to find ways to dim the noise, and keep peace in our souls. Two ways I do this are:I always have my I-Pod available to listen to with my beautiful classical music. I cannot tell you how many times this has saved me in an airport, bookstore or restaurant if I am alone. Secondly, I always have with me a good book to read...lines seem shorter, and noises seem less if I am reading a good book. This is only a beginning list of those things that are unpleasant to me, and things I will NOT miss when I am gone! Please send your own, and I will add them to the list.

*Always getting in the wrong line at the grocery store. Makes me think I am making other bad choices in my life that I don't know about.

*T. P. dispensers in almost every public bathroom on the planet. If you can bend down far enough to get just one square of t.p. without pulling a muscle, well then, you are in good shape.

*People who stand and talk in doorways that everyone else is trying to get through. Don't you just want to scream at these unaware people!

*The ultimate: talking to only machines on the phone when you need help. Does anyone else wonder at what point this country will be 100% on auto-pilot....

*And then, to add insult to injury....all the real people calling to sell you something right at dinner time. If only we could switch the real people to "service" and the machines to sales calls....hmm.
Actually this is already being done with sales calls; don't you love racing to the phone to listen to a machine trying to sell you something. Hope all of you know how to take yourself off those calls lists.

Summer Goodness

Comments

If you would like to send any thoughts or comments, send to me at: mgbarc@worldnet.att.net

My Novel

Exciting News! My novel is out and can be ordered on Amazon.com Check it out, and if you order it, I hope you like it and then pass it on to a friend. I am donating all the author proceeds from this novel to "Second Harvest," an organization to feed the hungry in America. My two year project and adventure is complete, and I am now half way through my next novel which takes place in New York City. It will be some time before I see this next one in print. In the meantime, I enjoy the writing of it which is the fun part for me! (Scroll down after synopsis of "Sundog" to read beginning of next novel entitled, "Misfit in the World"

Synopsis of the Book: The first sentence of my novel, "To See a Sundog" draws you into the small rural farm community of Sawhill, Missouri in 1952. "The town of Sawhill, Missouri is like a mobile that gently swings back and forth, and on most days it swings in harmony, but when one side of the mobile tips and bends, the whole town tips and bends with it."

Here you meet Jeb and Mary Anne Blexley who are struggling with the loss of their three year old son; Dan Bradley who is trying to live peacefully with his alcoholic wife and two children; Jenna Louise Harper who has lost her young husband to illness and is falling in love with one of the married men in town, and Jake Blexley who comes back to the farm after fifteen years to reunite with his estranged father.

There is also Ted Faraday, the new bank president in town who nobody trusts, the eccentric and uppity Martha Winthrop, the exuberant teen, Edie Mahoney who wants to fly airplanes, and the town gossip who loves to embellish a good story even if it is harmful which it often is...

An event occurs midway through the novel that brings the whole town together to help each other, showing that, in the midst of tragedy, people coming together can heal a community.

The title of the book refers to "sundogs" (mini rainbows) which are signs in the book of mini-miracles showing that everything is going to be alright. "Just God winking at us," says one of the characters in the novel.

This book gives a realistic depiction of rural farm life, its difficulties and hardships, and shows the very smart, hard-working farmer doing the multi tasks a person in his own business would have to do. A segment in the book deals with the encroachment of large industries trying to take over the small family farm.

There are four children in the novel, each of whom have specifically developed personalities and struggles, and one of whom saves his sister from disaster in a very dramatic way.

This is a novel of good character development, realistic small (rural) town dialogue, enlightened and realistic farm community depiction and numerous human interest stories. It is a very heart-warming story filled with surprises that keep you reading, and gives you a very satisfied feeling at the end.

Misfit in the World

Willard Jacob III does not like his name. He isn't sure he likes his nickname either. But when his twin brother, who is limited in numerous ways of the world, had begun calling him Jelly when he wanted this on his toast, he began saying Jelly to get Willard's attention, and it had stuck to him like; well, like peanut butter. Jelly knows that his name is not the only thing different about himself, and even though he lives in New York City with all its diversity, Jelly realizes that he doesn't "fit in the world' in more ways than just his name.

Just when he had this insight is still uncertain. "When does anyone know himself," he wonders, "at least well enough to compare himself to other people around?" Is it the age of reason? And if so, who decides when the age of reason is? Five years? Six years? Seven years? Hell, Jelly knows twenty-year-olds who still haven't reached the age of reason if that means the ability to think.

And how much reasoning are we talking about here? Reason enough to know when mom yells at you, she doesn't like what you are doing, or how to tie your shoe laces so you don't trip, or that three is the square root of nine, or that Einstein was a genius. Now, that man could reason," thinks Jelly. Jelly guesses that he'd reached his own age of reason at about the age of four. He began to "get things" then. Things like, everything did not belong to him, and no he wasn't the most powerful little person in the world; his sister was, and the big people in his life made all the rules.

Rules; now there was a subject he could talk about over a full bottle of wine. Rules, he had decided at an early age, were fluid and flexible and allowed you to adjust them up or down or sideways depending on who you were, or what you wanted. And, of course, how much money you had. Rules were made for the gullibles of the world was Jelly's thinking; made for people who needed solid structure, guidance, and Big Brother to tell them what to do. Look at all the people still racing to church every week, not to pray or worship, but still looking for someone else to tell them what to do, and how to live. As if their own brains were bowls of luke warm mush.

"And rules don't come with assurances either," thinks Jelly For example, what about the rule of crossing the street safely right here in New York City? This is a safety rule you can "take to the bank," thinks most New Yorkers when a bright yellow hand goes up to tell them when to cross, and then ticks off twenty seconds: 20-19-18-17-16-15-14-13-12-11- 10-9-8-7-6-5-4-3-2-1 for them to walk right before getting hit by the foreign taxi driver who isn't paying attention to any rules; he can't even understand English for God's sake. Do you think he's following the 20 second rule before he makes his turn and hits you at number 13? Jelly thinks he'd rather be in the taxi with the driver....might be safer, but of course then, he wouldn't get where he wanted to go. No matter how intelligible and clear he is about directions and his destination, it won't matter. For, how can a man who has just arrived here, well ahead of his English, get you to 32nd and Broadway? "You'd be better off getting out and walking, avoiding all crosswalks, if you know what I mean," thinks Jelly.

On this day, Jelly is walking down the back streets of New York City. For some New Yorkers, this means Madison Avenue instead of Fifth Avenue, but for Jelly, it is the streets that are well away from the maddening crowd of frantic tourists who are desperate to begin their shopping for N.Y. souvenirs, designer shoes, jewelry, hats, luggage, clothes; you name it...they're after it and New York has it. No, he is walking the back streets where he can actually hear a bird chirping in the one tree he can see; hear the click-clack of the high heel shoes on the lady walking behind him; hear the pissing of the man behind the garbage can and see a vendor rolling out his carpet of trinkets and "knock-off" jewelry for the day's selling enterprise that will keep body and soul together for one more day, as well as feed his wife (or wives) and children living upstairs in the one room flat with no bathroom. No wonder the whole building had an odoriferous smell as he walked by. Where do people without bathrooms go, he wonders. Oh yes, he forgot...the man behind the garbage can.

Jelly is on his way to the public library to do more research on his new interest of ocean sponges. Somewhere he has read that we all originated from the sponges in the ocean....that these sponges, a long, l..........o..........n.........g time ago contained the molecules or DNA, or whatever, inside them to finally evolve into human live form. Of course, the sponge had to come up throught the ranks like everything else, but eventually, sponges did arrive, for better or worse, depending on who you talk to, in the form of human life.

And humans continue to have the qualities of sponges after all these trillions of years because we are still 85-90% water! No wonder everyone walks around with water bottles these days afraid to lose even an ounce of their essence. Now there is an enterprise Jelly wishes he had thought of....selling bottled water to the masses when it was pretty much free for the taking everywhere. "And we say that we have reached the age of reason," Jelly thinks. "Hell-o."