Saturday, December 30, 2017

Camping Haiku Photo Journal

Camping at Tomoka State Park in Ormond Beach, Florida
December 26- 29, 2017


I.

open air, carefree
hitting the road together
adventure awaits


temporary home
for a few days in the woods
snuggles and cuddles


our backyard view leads
down a wooded winding path
there, a trickling creek


relieved to find out
this mat wasn't theirs
we all stomped our feet

II.


Tomoka State Park
two rivers meet in the woods
nature at its best


peaceful, calm river
one boat, one sun, open water
perfect afternoon


Halifax River
meets the Tomoka waters
foamy bubble bath


mirror reflection
blue sky over blue water
you are beautiful

III.

I really did it
stood with my pole patiently
Yes! I caught a fish


finally success
a perspective I can reach
selfie from behind

IV.

clear and vast azure
home to the glorious sun
please watch over us


power from the sky
glow of light and energy
greater than us all

 

nature restores me
relaxing serenity
peace. no other words


a panoramic
my love on the shore
fishin' and chillin'
















Monday, December 11, 2017

Contradictions

I am a teacher.

I have been in the field of education just shy of 20 years. I have an undergraduate degree in communications and three graduate degrees in education, including a doctorate. I work in the education department of a statewide educational organization serving at-promise youth and I adjunct for the local university.

As teachers, we secretly (or maybe not so secretly) hope all our students go to college. That doesn't necessarily mean all of them will, but we want them to have the opportunity to go, if this is what they want. Or maybe we just tell them that's what they want. After all, people who want to be successful go to college, right?

Over the past few years, the pendulum has swung back a little bit. Student loan debt countrywide, has climbed drastically, and trade-related jobs are more plentiful than other kinds of jobs. Students are shying away from incurring debt, and high schools are offering programs to try and prepare students to enter directly into the workforce after high school. After all, our standards explicitly state the goal of making our students college and career ready.

It's all good, right? There is absolutely nothing wrong with learning trade skills in high school and jumping into a job after graduation, especially if you need to support yourself or help support your family. It's perfectly respectable to go to trade school and learn additional skills that are immediately applicable in the workplace. We need tradespeople arguably more than we need college graduates. And if you can't afford college, there's nothing to consider anyway. Maybe some day.

I am a mother.

I was raised by divorced parents. My dad has a law degree, my mom an associates degree because she left college to be with my dad who was ahead of her in school. That's what women did back then. College was the expectation. My dad worked his way through law school and my mom, after the divorce, insisted my sister and I finish college before we ever considered getting married.

I kept that promise to my mom, and so did my sister. We both attended and graduated college. It was never something we considered. We just did it. And we both wanted to. My sister to study art, and me, well I thought I wanted to be a doctor and somehow discovered my true calling was to be a teacher.

I got engaged to my high school sweetheart in my final semester of college. Like my mom, he left after almost two years in college. But he didn't leave for me. He left for him. He never wanted to go to college in the first place. At least not the one his parents chose for him. He joined a fraternity, drank a lot, and floundered because they wanted him to declare a major. He had no idea what to declare, so somehow he became an education major. Even to this day, people are encouraged to choose teaching as a back-up option. Sad.

Three years after we married, we had our first and only child, Jacob. There were signs early on of his intelligence. Late walker, early talker, he seemed to love words. Teachers never want to be the ones to identify their own kids as bright, so I waited for a couple of teachers to point it out. And they did. When it was clear he wouldn't struggle to learn to read, I sighed of relief. As a teacher I knew this was the biggest hurdle of his school life. A wealthy relative set up a college fund for him, and by the time he graduated high school it was enough to cover all 4 years and maybe more. The second biggest hurdle of school life, done.

I've written about my son and the challenges we dealt with in his school career. There were lots of signs this day was coming. I'll leave that to the side for now. But by the time he got to his senior year in high school, he was less than concerned about applying to and getting into college. He put all his eggs in one basket, knowing that his back-up plan was the local university for which he more than met the admission criteria. Basket school sent a rejection letter and back-up school took him. School grades were never reflective of my son's learning so I was relieved when he got into college.

Fast forward through low excitability about moving into the dorm, last minute registration for classes, and less than informative chats about how things were going with classes. By Thanksgiving weekend, my son announced he didn't want to be in college. He wasn't depressed, or having trouble fitting in on campus. The social aspect was fine. He just didn't want to be in school anymore. Period. He told us it was a waste of money because he just wasn't motivated to be in school and go to classes. He wants to get a full time job.

The contradiction.

I was somewhat crushed. It took me a couple of weeks crying, on and off, to process and get through the notion that my son doesn't want to go to college. I'm trying. "Mom, it doesn't mean I never want to go," he said possibly to comfort me. I'm holding onto this and hoping he decides one day when he's ready. I can't help it.

But I got to thinking. It's really hard to be a parent. And I think there's a certain challenge to being a teacher and a parent. Pedagogically I may believe one thing, but when it's my own kid it somehow feels different. Let me give you a similar example, more relatable to more people. Most people in this country, despite what politics tries to say, support our military. We honor those who serve and have served. We support those who are on duty and in combat, whether we agree with the policies around where and why our troops are deployed or not. But if we don't come from military families, it's sometimes hard to accept when our children choose to be soldiers. Why? Not because of disrespect for the military, but for the safety and well-being of our children.

This is the contradiction I'm living through now. On paper, and as a teacher, I don't believe people must go to college to be successful. There are certainly plenty of examples out in the world of people who achieve great success without a college degree. Some of them return to school later in life, and others go on to be successful without ever going to college. But when it's my kid, it just feels different. I want him to be happy, and successful, and educated. I just have to accept that his version of this might be different from mine.

I'm not going to lie. I worry. I worry about how he will feel in crowds of people. I worry how women will feel about him. I worry about whether he'll hit road blocks without a degree. I worry that he will struggle financially. I worry that I have developed a bit of elitism in achieving my own level of education. The teacher in me wants him to love and value education as much as I do.

But here's the reality. My son is a learner. It may not be in the traditional formal schooling sense, but he's a learner. He's just a bit of a nonconformist and a risk taker. In this way, he is not like me at all. I'm a bit of a rule follower. I'm a bit of a people pleaser. I have to accept that we are not the same. And if I am to truly be the kind of parent I have always strived to be, I have to let him find his own happiness, not my definition of what his happiness should be.

The teacher in me is giving the mom in me a lesson.


Monday, December 4, 2017

Something Happens

Inspiration

Dorothy Allison:

Place requires context. Is is responsive? Does it notice me? Or is it porcelain, pristine, and just ignoring my passage through?

... Place is where the "I" goes. Place is what that "I" looks at, what it doesn't look at. Is it happy? Is it sad? Is it afraid? Is it curious?    


Henry David Thoreau:

You learn that if you sit down in the woods and wait, something happens.

Something Happens
by Laurie J. Kemp

If you sit down in the slough and wait,
something happens
     above you,
          around you,
               inside you

The swamp lives in all its glory
messy, beautiful
     bugs buzz, flit, and flutter
          birds bask, swoop, and soar
branches break,
     crack and criss-cross

Gators slowly glide and stalk
eyeballs just breaking the surface,

turtles line up along a leaning log
     necks reaching up to the sun

one anhinga dives down for a meal
     below the surface
While another spreads his velvety black wings

They all know we are here, don't they?

If you walk through the slough and wait,
something happens
     above you,
          around you,
               inside you

the ripples of the water
the rustling of the ferns
the calling of the birds

the whirring of the insects
the plunking of the fish
the oxygen in the air

all of it
breathing life
into my body
into my soul

I am alive.













Saturday, November 25, 2017

Still

I went for a massage today. I almost cancelled because I wasn't feeling well yesterday. "Go," my husband said. "You'll feel better." And I did. I went. And I feel better.

In between my massage and a facial, I sat in the quiet room drinking cucumber infused water and nibbling on a chocolate covered strawberry. Once I finished, I set my plate down and looked straight in front of me. There opposite me on the wall, was just the reminder I needed. Be still. It was a simple piece of art, waves rushing at the base of a mountain, and the words Be still.

I took a deep breath in and pushed my chest out, let the breath out and allowed my abdomen to deflate. I closed my eyes and did it again. It was just what I needed.

Still
Beware of frenzied routines. Stop, inhale and
Exhale. Pull breath, life, in and out through your nose
Sometimes busy-ness is a self-created distraction from
Thinking difficult thoughts
I heed the warning on the wall, not a warning, a reminder
Listen to your heart and to G-d
Let the quiet bring you peace

Saturday, November 18, 2017

Vocabulary Study

He stood in front of me apologetically, talking about his tumultuous marriage with a seemingly introspective expression on his face. He told me he finally figured out the problem, and I was anxious to hear what foolishness he came up with. We have had these presentations before. I'd like to call them conversations, but they rarely are two-sided. Mostly, I'm just listening and trying to get an intelligent word in edgewise. "I am a narcissist," he declared. It was as if he believed his problem was solved. Of course, now there was a label and an excuse, and a new word in his vocabulary. The only one who thinks labeling himself a narcissist is an excuse for his behavior, is a narcissist.

Friday, November 17, 2017

Wildflower

You belong among the wildflowers
You belong somewhere you feel free

I really don't know where I am, but it is always the same place. A cool, breezy early spring day. The bright and warm glow of the sun just enough to keep the chill away. I'm me, but I'm not quite me. My hair is a lot lighter, golden almost blonde like it was when I was in nursery school. And longer, looser curls that blow in the wind gently away from my face in tendrils. I'm a couple of inches taller and several pounds thinner. But I assure you it's me. I can feel her soul and I can see her clear as day.

I am not sleeping. The dreams don't visit me in the night while I sleep. They come to me in cinematic visions, through the windshield while I drive, or while I gaze wistfully out a window in the back seat of a car, in the waiting room at a doctor's office, or during long drawn out meetings in a conference room.

Run away, let your heart be your guide
You deserve the deepest of cover

I'm running through a field with my arms out to my sides like wings and my head tilted back so I can feel the warmth of the sun on my face. The grass is tall and there are wildflowers of different heights and colors all around me, in the field and on my dress. Small, delicate ballet slipper pink ones, paper thin, translucent. Bright buttery yellow ones that remind me of the buttercup flowers we used to hold under our chins while we sang. Pops of deep red color, puckered kissy lips. And purples, violet and lilac. The field is fragrant. I smell honeysuckle.

It's a beautiful scene really. Care free and youthful, running barefoot through the field. No ants, just bees and caterpillars and I'm not bothered by anything. Butterflies flutter by, and there may be a bird or a child in the distance with a kite flying high overhead.

You belong among the wildflowers
Far away from your troubles and worries

I don't know where I'm running or who, if anyone, I am running to or from. It's strange actually. I don't recall ever having run barefoot through a field of wildflowers when I was a child. At that age, I was uncomfortable being alone. But there, in the country field, I am all by myself. I am gleeful and at peace. I know because I can feel the tingle and exhilaration inside her as she runs, giggling and twirling.

She is me.




*Italicized verses are lyrics from Tom Petty's "Wildflowers."

Sunday, November 5, 2017

Nosey Notes

Things I can't stand the smell of: Fresh cut grass, construction site port-o-potty, fabric softener, maple scented candles, new car, and tuna fish from a can. 
Things I love the smell of: Cotton candy, wood-burning campfire, fresh brewed coffee, salty sea air, cinnamon, and bread baking.


Sugar Sugar



I am here for a dark roast mocha iced coffee with coconut milk, no sugar. But there you are on the shelf, slanted ever so slightly to offer a tempting up-close and personal view of your powdery sugar, and your rainbow sprinkled sugar, and your shimmery crystallized sugar, and your pink and brown and white icing blankets of sugar and your glaze coat sugar. Your sweet scent wafts my way shouting, "This is a doughnut shop damn it, not a coffee shop!"


Tuesday, October 31, 2017

Morning Air

A blue heron soars above the surface of the lake
egrets and ibises dot the water's edge and
an ibis launches, chasing the heron
two birds fly overhead in tandem
I have no chance to see what type of birds
they are fast but they are the same
and their shape and color resemble kites
Across the lake an egret lifts off
from a branch in the cypress dome
and flies right toward my kitchen window
turning suddenly and sweeping back around the lake

I feel like I am looking into rather than out at

The sun is beginning to rise over the trees
lighting their broccoli tops and reflecting
them down onto the glassy lake
their skinny brown stalks in the shadow
Two ripples appear down below
never breaking the surface or
making an appearance
just circles expanding outward

There's an airshow
two egrets fly in a playful chase
landing lakeside in the wispy grass
they flutter about and retreat
high into the preserve
More blue herons soar, three or four
from front of the lake to the back
and the side of the lake to the tree tops
I sip my coffee and nibble on zucchini bread
from the best seat in the house
the one in front of the window.


Wednesday, October 25, 2017

Red Lobster in Some Town

I could feel her looking at me. You know the feeling. When you're not even looking, but you don't need to, because you know someone is staring right at you. I looked over the partition, separating my  booth from theirs. Yes, I was alone and she had a companion. She quickly looked away, trying to appear nonchalant. She was so transparent. I turned back to my meal and continued eating while her stare bored into me once again. I looked over, she looked away barely in time to avoid eye contact. We repeated this visual cat-and-mouse several times. Did she think I didn't notice her? She was either uncouth or dumb, because next I heard her dogging my meal choice to her companion. I'm not sure if she didn't realize I could hear, or if she just didn't care. I was alone and there was no talking at my table. Maybe it gave her a false sense of insulation.

"Uh, there's so much work." Her hands were flailing as she spoke. "Pulling and cracking and working. I don't know how people order..." She was talking about my crab legs. So fucking rude. Did she not realize I could hear her? I wiped my hands and my face with the napkin from my lap, and I stood up, looking in her direction. I waited for her to look back. And when she did, this time I looked right at her instead of turning away uncomfortably...

You want to know why I ordered them? Maybe it's because Red Lobster sucks and I'm only here because the only other choices in this shit town are fast food. Maybe it's because fried popcorn shrimp and dishes that all have "feast" in their names are not my idea of an enjoyable meal. Maybe a meal that's an activity is a way to kill a little time during a lonely dinner on the road. Maybe ordering crab legs was the only way I could keep myself from inhaling the unnecessary basket of four cheddar biscuits brought to my table for one. Maybe, just maybe, things worth having are worth working for.

I snickered to myself as I placed the napkin on the table and walked to the restroom to wash up. I glanced back at her thinking, "If only."


Sunday, September 17, 2017

Sheltered

This is a response to an invitation to write posted by a friend of mine on her own blog. The idea was for those of us who are coming out of the chaos of Irma, to heal through writing.

Sheltered
By Laurie J. Kemp

In the final hours, two back-to-back advisories warned:
she's coming west and we were ready, but we evacuated
because we had somewhere else to go. Now we were home,
the day after with power and internet, no flooding or damage.
We were lucky, but so many others around us were not.
I couldn't understand how it was possible. I couldn't sleep
for three days, and I remembered what I learned about
secondary trauma. I did everything I could to open up my home,
providing hot showers, cold a/c, and a place for my friends
and family to sleep comfortably and do laundry. It wasn't enough.
I signed up with the Red Cross, volunteered at a local shelter
handing out snacks, serving meals, and keeping strangers company.
A Veteran told me how funny it was to see two volunteers taking
photos of MRE's, and he asked me if I knew what they were
and if I ever had one. I would be lucky if I could get my hands
on the beef stew, but the spaghetti and meatballs was pretty good.
I helped an elderly woman who didn't know how to operate
a computer to apply for FEMA assistance. I asked a World War II
Vet if I could get him anything, and he shook his head and said
he was amazed at the greed. He was dismayed by the young people
returning to the snack table multiple times for Oreos and Doritos
and Pringles and granola bars. They're just hungry, I thought.
And bored. I handed out lunch of ham and cheese sandwiches
and chips and bottles of room temperature Gatorade,
and they said God Bless You. Can you imagine?
They were blessing me. With nowhere to go, no family
or friends to take them in through the storm, this
was their last resort, and they were gracious and thankful.
I am blessed, and I am sheltered.

To volunteer or make a donation,
please click the Red Cross logo.




Saturday, September 9, 2017

Prayer

My home.
The house we recently built, 
the community we have come to love.
The schools and hospitals
the businesses and the restaurants.

My community.
The beautiful green spaces,
the parks and the gardens.
The slough and the sanctuary,
the gifts of Mother Nature.

My friends.
The circles we have formed,
the camaraderie we enjoy,
The support and the love
the fun and the sharing.

My family.
The separation across miles.
the east and the west,
The north and the south 
the web of love that connects us.

May the grace of G-d be stronger than the fierceness of Irma.
May we be joined in love, wrapped in support and comfort.
May we live long and strong and build again what we stand to lose.



Friday, August 18, 2017

Little Moments #4: You'll See...

We all have them. Those memories of our moms just being moms, and thinking I'll never be like this or I'll never do this to my own kids. Then at the drop of a hat, a snap of the fingers, a blink of an eye, you are like this and you do it to your own kids. Because that's what good moms do.

I had one of these classic moments last night and into this morning. My son, now a freshman in college (oy, I still can't believe it) and I exchanged texts last night. He reached out first to ask me about some things he needed for his dorm. Trying not to (s)mother him, I try to wait until I hear from him to ask a question I want to know the answer to. This time it was about food, of course. I wanted to make sure he was eating. I can't help it. Jewish mom, ya know. Here was the exchange:


This morning, I couldn't help myself. I knew my mom would be laughing out loud if she could be a fly on the wall, and who am I to rob her of such joy? I sent her this very screen shot (above) of my conversation with my son. This is what I got in return:


I love sharing this kind of laughter with my mom. We'll forever share the bond of being two links in the same parent-child chain of love. I know how much joy she gets hearing from me about what a good mom she is. And she is. Stellar. I'm proud to be like her in any way I am. 

I live for little moments like this.


Tuesday, August 15, 2017

Little Moments #3: The Best PB &J

Have you ever seen the movie St. Elmo's Fire? If you are a child of the 80's, and I am, you have likely seen it more times than you can count. I know I have. There's a scene in the second half of the movie, towards the end with Mare Winningham (Wendy) and Rob Lowe (Billy). They are in Wendy's new apartment and she's describing the almost euphoric feeling of having her own place for the first time. She tells Billy she hate woke up in the middle of the night and made a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. She said it was the very best PB & J sandwich she ever had, because she made it there in her kitchen in her her very own apartment.

I was going to include a clip here, but the only one I can find of the scene is a poorly recorded video someone made on their phone, of the TV playing the movie.

This is how I felt eating fajitas with my husband on Sunday night, August 13, 2017. It was the first meal I cooked in my beautiful kitchen in my brand new house. I enjoyed cooking and even more, I enjoyed eating those fajitas at the dining room table, with my husband to my right, and my beautiful kitchen with my huge window looking out to the lake, all right in front of me. Best fajitas I ever had. I live for little moments like this.

Friday, August 11, 2017

A New Idea: Little Moments

Brad Paisley has a song called “Little Moments.” It’s a love song and the verses describe the every day moments we smile about, perhaps take for granted.  The lyrics of the chorus are, I live for little moments like that…

I’ve been on the road, getting my son ready for college, busy closing on my house and moving. I knew the next couple of weeks were going to be challenging, and difficult to keep up with writing. But I made a commitment to myself that I would write at least 3 times, and I’m running out of days! Yesterday, I had one of those little moments, and then I rememebered I had one of those little moments on the road too, and I got to thinking. If I jotted down some of these little moments I could accomplish a whole host of things; like keeping my commitment to write even if only a view words briefly and capturing these moments for possible future writing. Most importantly though, it would help me with gratitude, reminding me about the so many things in my life I can be grateful for.

Here are the first two of my (maybe new series?) little moments.


August 7, 2017 between 4:00 and 5:00 pm.
I was driving from Fort Myers to Orlando to spend two days at PACE Orange. My friends at Enterprise had given me a loaded Maxima, and it had great pick-up and a great stereo system. As usual, my iphone was plugged in for tunes, and I was jamming out. Across the sky in front of me there was a hazy mist. It was difficult to tell if it was fog or rain in the distance, but soon a faint rainbow started to appear. All of this, just as the song “Life in Color,” by One Republic came up in my shuffled playlist. It was just one of those moments.

Its hard to see, and now I can see it was actually a double rainbow! I was driving while I took this, shhh.
August 10, 2017 approximately 7:30 am.

My husband and I were talking amongst the cluttered living room. He had to meet the site manager at the house one last time before we went to the closing at 10. I was sitting on the love seat drinking my coffee, and Jacob came to the top of the stairs looking down over me with sleepy eyes. After we exchanged good mornings, he came down, plopped down on the loveseat next to me, and leaned over putting his head on my chest. He sat with me there for quite some time, like he did almost daily when he was little. These days it doesn’t happen very often. I get I love yous and hugs and even kisses, but cuddles are a bit of a rarity at this point. Shirtless from being in bed, I placed my arm around him and lightly rubbed the youthful soft skin on his back. It reminded me how quickly I went from Mommy to Mom. I love those flashback moments.

Tuesday, July 4, 2017

On Camping


I recently started to doing some contract work that requires me to have a gmail account. I already have two- one I've been using for years and has now become a clearing house for all things shopping, list serve, freebies (really anything not work related), and a second I use for things a little more important that I want to bring to immediate attention when it arrives. I decided to use the second one for this professional work to keep it separate from my full time job and my adjunct work.

Why did I explain this? I logged onto my MacBook this week and because I was logged into that gmail account, when I navigated to Blogger it brought me to a separate account from the one I usually use. It was an old Blogger account linked to this infrequently used gmail account. In fact, I didn't even realize I had another blog set up under this other username!

The last post there was from 2010- seven years ago! I must have established it while participating in the Invitational Summer Institute of the National Writing Project. It was a transformational experience and a phenomenal summer. I had been experimenting with writing series of Haiku, and this was a set I wrote after a sensory exercise leading me to thoughts and images of camping. My son was only 10 or 11. Now he's going of to college this fall. I'm going to delete that blog and I wanted to archive the poetry. So here it is.


On Camping:

Dancing campfire flames
Crackling in nature's silence,
Warming creekside friends.

Majestic old trees
Creekside canopy
Shelters nature's guests

Water meets fresh dirt
Where Florida's nature grows
Gators peering out

Wilderness night sky
Stars twinkling through tree tops limbs
At peace with the earth

Children climbing trees
Canoers along the creek
Blazing sun shines in the sky

Hiking through the woods
Enjoying nature's wonder
Father and his son

Pitching his own tent
Family right of passage
Young camper is born

Head down, damp pillow
Nothing but crickets chirping
Nature's lullaby

Thick layer of funk
Campfire soot, creek water, sweat
The shower can wait