Avoiding Writing

I have been neglecting my writing. Simply said. A bit understated. I have been ignoring my writing. Better. I have been avoiding writing. Probably the truest statement of the bunch.
Why you might ask? Why did I avoid reading for much of my first year of retirement? I really don't know why.
I have the best writing ideas in the car - that's why I carry a recorder so I can talk them out. Well, for the last year I have avoided carrying the recorder.
So now, I need to write. More later.

Firsts

I have always been amazed by the marvel of human development and I loved being part of each of my children's "firsts". This love of "firsts" also carried over to the 100s of students I taught in my 35 years in the classroom.

My grandson shared his first steps with me today. He was seated on his living room floor and then, without warning, he raised himself to a standing position. He put out his arms to gain his balance and stood there for what seemed forever, but most likely was 30 seconds. He then walked toward me - four steps.

He has been cruising via furniture for several months but when given the opportunity to stand alone, he would sit. Today, he decided to try something different. And he did this when I was there. How cool.

Mom's Passing - January 17, 2009

I have never felt really comfortable around death. Something about the finality of it all. Over. Complete. Done with. Fine'. No more. Terminal. Adios forever. I don't know how I should feel, so I feel uncomfortable.

My mom passed on Saturday morning. I got the call that I didn't want to ever get, but knew that I was going to get, at about 6:30 am. Before the call I was asleep on the couch again so I was close the the phone. I knew what the call was before I answered it.

I had seen my mom the night before. She hadn't been awake or responsive for almost a week. The previous Sunday she told me and my wife that she was preparing to die. And then she turned back to sleep.

Even though I expected this to happen - she was 99 years old after all - I didn't expect it to be now. I wanted her to be 100. I wanted her to enjoy life for a few more years. But my wishes were not the best for her.

My friends have responded in the order in which they have heard about her death. Some of them have sent emails. Others a more formal card (that is another blog). I appreciate their sentiments, but can't respond more than thank you. I don't know if that's enough. I don't feel good about it.

So, as I started, I just feel uncomfortable about death.

Retired one month

Wow. I have been retired now for a little over one month. When meeting me, people ask, "How is retirement?" I really don't have a pleasing answer for them. I don't know how to respond. I should develop a response - here are a couple of ideas.


"Awesome. Nothing to do. No demands. No people asking me to extend and do more. Restful."

"Incredible. Quiet walks in the park. Quiet viewing of old movies on TCM. Quiet interaction with the computer. Quiet avoidance of housework. Quiet lunches."

"Bizarre. Do you know that there are only so many ways one can avoid doing something important?"

"Terrific. I play in four different groups - a jazz band, a community band, a german band and an orchestra. Plenty of time to rehearse. Plenty of time to practice. Plenty of time to perform and get home. Plenty of time to listen to other performances. Plenty of time to avoid practice, too."

Hmmm. Maybe I need to work on other responses.

Imagination High 2008

Wow! For the second year I was the administrator and curriculum director for Imagination High at Cleveland State University. This year we had 36 students attending from 16 different high schools in Ohio. Students came from high schools located as far west as Toledo and as far south as Loudonville.

Guest artists this year were Tim Seibles, Poetry; Sarah Willis, Fiction; Scott Miller, Playwriting; and Terrence Spivey, performance. All of the guest artists were terrific. All had imaginative prompts, were friendly and outgoing with the students, and stated how they appreciated being part of the program.

Each day was similar. The day began with a whole group session, modeling, reading, and discussion. The large groups were complimented by small group work. Each small group was led by a current MFA Writing student or a recent MFA graduate.

We ate every two hours. Bagels, juice and cream cheese in the morning, a catered lunch, and Welch's Fruit snacks, rice krispie treats, and cookies in the afternoon.

And the students wrote, revised, conferenced, wrote more, revised and conferenced.

All the participants felt good about themselves at the end of the week. Or at least on one reported that they felt other than good.

I was exhausted each day. I complained about the lack of a networked printer until I got one. I complained that the printer that was installed did not print multiple copies. I complained about the attitude of the office workers in the site. And when nothing was done about my complaints, I complained about the inaction.

There were other problems with the site and the program, but that will be in another blog.