Maggie's Farm

I'd like to lump Coonamessett Farm in with the Farmers Market vendors and implore you all to support them as well. I've heard the arguments as far as the farm is concerned. Why go there for blueberries in July when you can get them at the supermarket - and for less money!
It's hard to know where to begin with this argument. As I see it - it's a no brainer. Anything picked at the farm just plain tastes better. Much better. I can get tomatoes in January but what's the point when they taste like cr*p? Ditto for strawberries, melons, rock-hard peaches - you name it. Fruits and vegetables should be consumed in their proper seasons. We should gorge ourselves on watermelon and corn on the cob in summer until we are sick to death of them knowing that it will be nine or ten months before they'll be coming around again. There's a reason they call it summer squash.
And now for the less money argument. Yes. It it more expensive than the supermarket. That's because it's better than the supermarket. We can all understand that when you buy something handmade or handcrafted it's more expensive than the same product mass produced. We understand it in everything except for food that is. These strawberries were grown by the guy around the corner with no middle man - why can't he sell it cheaper than the companies that ship vegetables to the chain shops? Well for one thing your neighbor likely isn't getting any farm subsidies - the farm bill mostly supports big agriculture. Your local farmer produces less, owns less land, and employs growing practices that cost more money. But forget all that for a moment and think of this. We're talking about the food you eat. The food your family eats. What could be more important? What could be worth paying a bit more for if you can afford it?
I've also heard people say they aren't renewing their farm membership because their children are too old to want to go there anymore and feed the chickens; as if farms (like super sugary breakfast cereals) are only for kids.
To that argument I say - what are there organizations you support? Audubon? The Humane Society? The Appalachian Mountain Club? Do you reap all the benefits of your membership? 
We belong to Mass Audubon which means we're entitled to waived entrance fees at all the Massachusetts Audubon sanctuaries. If I'm on my game we might visit one or two sanctuaries per year which doesn't cover the cost of membership. My membership to the AMC entitles me to discounted lodge stays. We manage one weekend per year at an AMC lodge and while I love staying there, the discount is not equal to the amount we pay for a yearly membership. And yet I still reup these memberships. What's more, I donate to my local NPR station knowing that my only perk is that my local NPR station (hopefully) will not go anywhere. Anywhere like away that is. It's my hope that Coonamessett Farm likewise does not go away. If that's your hope I would entreat you to renew your farm membership, regardless of whether or not you think you'll visit the farm enough times to justify the cost. Here's how I see it. Would you rather support Coonamessett Farm with a yearly membership or drive down Hatchville Road years from now and pass the Coonamessett Farm Condominium Development? Besides, if you join - it might encourage you to visit more often, which will be good for everyone.

song: Maggie's Farm • artist: Bob Dylan

Main Street

It's harder to write about the things you really care about than the things that come from off the cuff. And not because you fear rejection or because you are afraid of being judged. It's harder because you don't know where to begin.

Starting off with a topic that you don't know about or aren't invested in puts you at a level playing field with most everyone else. Starting off with a topic that you do know something about or that you're passionate about requires that you realize others don't know or don't care about said topic with as much feeling as you do which is hard, because when you love something it's difficult to understand why everyone else doesn't feel the same way. 

Our town's main street merchants have complained about traffic congestion caused by the farmers market that's held weekly from May through October in the small park kitty-corner to the library.

Their objection is that the traffic and lack of parking deters would-be shoppers.

I contest that the farmers market is the only thing that draws me to Main Street Falmouth during the summer season and while it was difficult when the twins were younger to find parking and ferry the boys from the parking lot to the market, it's easier now that they are older.

If I can make the effort to navigate the traffic, find parking at an off-site location, and walk my four children from where I parked the car to where the market takes place - because I have a vested interest in going to the market every week - then I believe the people who want to come to Main Street, to shop, to have their hair styled, or to eat lunch will be equally likely to persevere in order to reach their final destination.

The farmers market doesn't compete with the merchants. There are no grocery stores on main street. Instead the market creates and invites community, invites people to slow down, perhaps even stop and talk to each other or listen to the occasional live music. The market appeals to all our senses: sight, sound, smell, touch and taste; and thereby awakens us to our surroundings. Instead of rushing past on our way from point A to point B the market encourages us to slow down and take a look around. Might we not, after slowing down, notice a new store front or an enticing sandwich board and take the time to investigate?

The farmers market reminds us that shopping can be a warm, interactive venture and not just something impersonal done with the click of a button via a computer at 11 o'clock at night. Might this revelation not benefit the shop owner as well as the farmer?

In the musical Oklahoma Aunt Eller implores the farmer and the cowboy to be friends. Today it's the farmer and the store owner. 

I'm sure there's a way for both to coexist and even to mutually benefit of the other.

song: Main Street • artist: Bob Seger

Parenting is ...

resisting the urge to stand under the hot shower - all day.

Parenting is ...

telling your sons they can't eat in the bathroom, because "food and poop don't mix."

Brave New World II

If you don't know what bathroom talk is then you've never parented young boys.

I was explaining to S & N the other day that they would be sent to the principal's office if they used bathroom talk when they were in kindergarten.

They in turn asked me if the principal had a gun - or a sword.

I said that the NRA is working on it but that she doesn't have one yet.

Not yet.

book: Brave New World • author: Aldous Huxley

Brave New World

Yesterday I saw the guy in line before me at Starbucks pay for his coffee with his cell phone. I asked the cashier how does one pay for a cup of coffee using a cell phone and he explained that Starbucks has an app and you can key in your Starbucks gift cards; at checkout the card's barcode gets called up on the phone which can then be swiped with a hand-held scanner thereby deducting the amount from the value of the card.

I paid for my cup of tea using cash and walked to my seat feeling like Rip Van Winkle waking up 20 years into the future.

book: Brave New World • author: Aldous Huxley

Stand or Fall

Seriously, we can invent the internet but we can't invent a name tag sticker than can be removed without leaving glue all over the sweatshirt it was stuck to? 

We're all walking around with computers in our pants' pockets but we can't come up with a zipper that will outlast the garment (or sleeping bag) that it's attached to?
There's a rover on Mars but all our pencil erasers are worn out or rock hard well before the pencil's even half gone.

song: Stand or Fall • artist: The Fixx

Just One Look

My post is being featured on Blogher!
Check it out!

song: Just One Look • artist: Linda Ronstadt

99 Luftballoons

There were balloons at church yesterday. My first big Unitarian Universalist disappointment.
I hate balloons. And not just for environmental reasons.
I have a pathological fear of them which stems (I think) from an early memory of them popping very close to me, possible when we were in Florida. Ask anyone. They'll tell you. Yes, Joanne hates balloons. I'm a real killjoy. I would rather drink bacon grease than buy my kids helium balloons for their birthdays and since you've never seem me with a big mug o' bacon grease you can assume you've never seen any of my kids giddy over helium balloons on their birthday. Poor them. Poor me.
Like fireworks on July 4th I just can't see the point. Plus they smell gross.
Why oh why do people release a bunch of airborne litter to celebrate a wedding or graduation?
I don't want my kids to have balloons but somehow they acquire them usually from a well-meaning shop vendor or at another child's birthday; and then I have to feign empathy when they subsequently (and almost immediately) implode.
And don't get me started on that movie, "The Red Balloon." A classic? Psychiatric trauma fest is more like it.
Balloons just drive home the point that life is fleeting.
How do you want to go out? With a bang? Car accident? Drug overdose? Heart attack? Crushed by a vending machine?
Or would you rather expire slowly, like the balloon that overstays its welcome, leeks its helium, sinks to the floor and finally shrivels up. Cancer? Heart disease? Debilitating stroke?
Pick your poison. Or just stay away from the bleeding balloons and avoid the existential crisis in the first place.

song: 99 Luftballons • artist: Nena

Fire and Rain

Weather Underground predicts "ice pellets" for tomorrow night.
What the heck are ice pellets?
It's like they know they'll never be right so now they're just making stuff up.

song: Fire and Rain • artist: James Taylor

Parenting is ...

Shouting a half dozen times at your children to not run in the preschool parking lot and then running yourself in order to keep up with them when they don't listen.

I'm A Boy II

Let's go back for a moment to my post about what little boys want. What I said was that they want to be little girls but upon further consideration - perhaps that's not what I meant. It's not that they want to be little girls rather they want the trapping that little girls are entitled to.
At church on Sunday the minister talked about Bread and Roses on account of Women's History Month. Bread and Roses has an historical reference but roughly it means demanding not only the means by which to survive (bread) this life but also demanding a life with some beauty in it (roses).
I was reminded of when Gilbert & Sullivan's Pirates of Penzance sing that all they ask is "life, with just a touch of poetry in it." 
It also reminded me of a scene in the play "I Read about my Death in Vogue Magazine" when the actresses come out dressed as men, pick up a handful of women's accouterments and utter phrases like, "I'm burning these - women's things," and "I'm studying these - women's things," and "I'm confiscating these - women's things." 
I think what the boys want is what those striking factory workers in Lawrence wanted one hundred and one years ago, not just to be provided for, but a little art, a little beauty, a little poetry, beaded bracelets with big colorful flowers on them along with the freedom to enjoy life's roses. Seems to me men are only respected when they stick to the bread side of things.

song: I'm a Boy • artist: The Who

New Year's Day

This year's New Years resolution was to pick up (at least) one piece of litter every day. Minus three days when we couldn't get out because of snow (and we wouldn't have been able to find anything under the snow anyway), we've kept to things pretty well.
I can tell you based on unscientific research that the majority of our side-of-the-road trash in Falmouth (excluding cigarette butts) consists of nip and water/sports drink bottles, plastic silverware, plastic drinking straws, and cups (paper, plastic & styrofoam) from fast food restaurants.
Of course there is no point in anything that cannot be self promoted so if you want to read about our adventures in litterland it's at www.365daysoftrash.wordpress.com or click on the button to the right.

song: New Year's Day • artist: U2

I'm A Boy

I think a little boy's first disappoint is that he's not a little girl.
Once one of the twins asked me when he was going to be a girl and then got very put out when I said he wasn't. I had to break it to him: "once you're a boy, you stay a boy."
I recall C lamented once that as he was a boy he'd never get to be a Mommy. When I offered that he could be a daddy it seemed like little consolation.
The other day S asked me if pink was a girl color. I said some girls like pink, but girls like lots of other colors too. Then I asked him what his favorite color was and he replied "purple" but I suspect his first choice might have been pink and he was only settling on purple as a more socially acceptable substitute.
Then this morning S had one of my bracelets on and asked me if only girls wore them. I reminded him that his older brother sported at least a half-dozen sailors bracelets. But I know what he really meant. Do boys wear beaded bracelets with colorful flowers on them? 
I was helping at the elementary school recently and a first-grade boy said he liked my bracelet (the same one S admired this morning). Then he asked me if I'd like to see his bracelets. 
I said I sure would.

song: I'm A Boy • artist: The Who

Double Vision

Why didn't they just get bifocals?

song: Double Vision • artist: Foreigner

Up Against The Wall

The last time H had indoor soccer practice there was some kind of incident in which another player made off with his soccer ball leaving H moping and unable to play for the rest of practice. 

I did not observe said incident as H had gotten a ride to practice with Tom, and Ken had gone in for the pick up. I had not in fact watched any of H's practices, being more of the "drop and run" type of mom than the "stay and watch" variety.

Last Sunday I had decided in advance that I would go to practice and stay and watch; my hope being that a) I would be there in the event anything went wrong, and b) H would play better if he knew I was watching him. Let's just say I hope he wasn't playing better on account of my presence because that would mean that it's possible for him to play worse. Let's also say that I need to find him a sport wherein he can spend copious amounts of time on the ground because that is where, from what I can see, he most enjoys being.

So I'm there and I'm by the doorway to the gymnasium and I'm talking to another mother and the conversation's going pretty well, at least in my mind, and I'm pleasantly surprised because I don't usually hit it off with other parents. But then they break the kids up into smaller groups and H gets sent way down to the other side of the gym and after a few minutes I reluctantly excuse myself and head over there so I can do what I came to do - which is watch H (and order seeds for this year's garden). I'm there on this long bench flipping through my seed catalogue and watching when I see this boy who's crying and the coach is trying to console him but he's still crying and his parents must not be in the building because he's walked over to the bench - my bench - and told to join the game when he feels better.

Now he's on the bench, and I'm on the bench, and I feel a bit like we're in an Arlo Guthrie song. And let's just say that as bad as I am at talking to other parents - I am 100 times worse at talking to crying seven-year-old boys who are not my own children.

I try convincing myself that he'd rather be left alone and go about my business, then I give him what I hope is a sufficiently sympathetic glance all the while thinking that every other parent in the gym must be wondering why I'm not trying to help this kid.

Finally I do the only thing I can think of. I slide over a little closer to him and say "I'm sorry you're sad." Then I say, "do you like vegetables?" 

He tells me he's more of a meat and fruit kind of guy (so is H). Then I show him the selection of carrots in the catalogue and say, "look here - I can get 150 carrots seeds for $1.65. That's about a penny a carrot."

He agrees that that is a very good deal.

We weigh the pros and cons of cooked carrots verses carrot sticks and lo and behold soon we are talking gardens and fences and rabbits and sunflowers and finally he says, "looks like they're going to scrimmage soon." And I say, "well, it's been fun talking with you but maybe you'd rather go and play." And he does!

song: Up Against The Wall • Fiction Family

Parenting is ...

knowing that no matter how many glasses of fruit smoothies you drink, you'll still need a handful of M&Ms to make it through the day.

clerihew for Dr. Suess

A very happy birthday to Dr. Seuss.
creator of Horton and Thidwick the Moose.
Yertle, the Grinch, and those two stubborn Zax.
Bartholomew Cubbins, the Once-ler, and the Lorax.

Bed Are Burning

When a single recipe calls for cooking some vegetables in canola oil and others in sesame oil I just assume they are trying to mess with me.

song: Beds Are Burning • artist: Midnight Oil

Ride Captain Ride

Classic literary characters meet the 21st centuary:
N (sword in hand, dressed in his red bathrobe): "I'm Captain Hook and I'm going to steal the remote from Captain Ahab!"
Arrrrrrrrrh.

song: Ride Captain Ride • artist: Blues Image

Parenting is ...

wondering why "last one out of the car closes the door!" is an unreasonable request.

Trouble

Ever wonder how so many cobwebs got into the attic?
Let me tell you a little story.
Once upon a time there were two adorable, if not at times demanding, identical twin boys aged five.
One morning their mother, in an effort to both entertain and contain them, suggested they take a tubby. No tubbies had been taken for a while (the twins preferred showers) but the mother had dutifully cleaned the bathtub only the week previous so as to be ready for anything.
The tub was drawn, the proper temperature achieved and the requisite tubby toys deposited into the mix. The mother breathed a sigh of relief and went off to fix her breakfast (it was 10 AM and she'd been up since just after 7). Alas no sooner had she decided upon a cereal brand then a commotion ensued from the bathroom the likes of which she'd never heard and she was sure the neighbors were hearing equally as well as herself.
She flew to the bathroom and was told by her offspring (children of mighty vision and, thanks to the efforts of a strict Montessori preschool, to ability to count to 100) that there were not one, but four spiders, each in their own webs, above the tubby.
Leaping arachnids Batman! (not really, they were harvester spiders) what child can enjoy a tubby when spiders lurk in every corner of the bathroom?
So a plastic cup and a piece of cardboard were found and the first spider captured after a deft balancing act on the edge of the tubby by the mother who was happy that all her years of dance and figure skating had given her proper balance to perform acts of bravery such as spider retrieval.
But then the dilemma. What to do with the captive spider? Normally they are released outside the front door but that seemed out of the question in February as it would only be sentencing said spider (whose only crime was a bad housing decision) to death by freezing and said Mother had already relocated several spiders from other parts of the house to the living room houseplant collection. How many spiders could live together comfortably in ten spindly houseplants?
There was only one place left - the attic. Four trips were made up two flights of stairs, the family house cat watching with bemused interest from the comfort of the bed.
Afterwards the mother wondered how the reunion went.
spider 1: "Hey you guys! Don't I know you from the bathroom?"
spiders 2, 3 and 4: "Yup."
spider 1: How y'all like these new digs?
spider 2: "Well the air's less humid up here but it sure is dark."
spider 1: "The dark's kinda creepy isn't it?"
spider 2: "I know how we could make it even more creepy."

song: Trouble • artist: Cold Play

Maybe I'm Amazed

It's amazing how much you can get done for your family when your family isn't around.

song: Maybe I'm Amazed • artist: Paul McCartney & Wings

All You Need is Love II

This was in the briars across from Old Silver.

They should have given chocolates.

song: All You Need is Love • artist: The Beatles

Force Ten

Reading a book before seeing the movie is one thing but books that are written after a movie becomes a huge mega hit are entirely another genre.

H and I read The Life and Times of Obi Wan Kenobi recently - it was his pick. Admittedly I found it to be a slog. Books about Star Wars (and there are loads of them) remind me of Barbie. It's all about what kind of clothes the characters are wearing and what color the beam on their light saber is.

I've been less excited about H's obsession with Star Wars than I was with his Moby Dick fixation. 

I won't deny it. I'm a literary snob who prefers my son reenact Nantucket sleigh rides in the front yard (which he did) rather than fight scenes from a long time ago and a galaxy far, far away. Star Wars movies seem to be all chase scenes and laser fighting to me. 

But then H noticed the correlation between Yoda and Zen. Which is that Yoda meditates - and Mommy meditates.

Then, at the end of the Life and Times of Obi Wan there was this description of the protagonist becoming one with the Force that was so like the analogy of swimming on the surface of the sea while walking on the bottom of the ocean it was uncanny. The Force - the energy of all things - it's kind of a Zen concept.

In fact the whole idea of being one with the Force and that the Force is all around us and we just need to recognize it, that is, to not be in duality with the Force.

I think the Force is Buddha nature. The Force might be the intersection of time and space. It could be that. Or it could be whatever Dan said it was in our dharma talk last week (I forgot what he actually did say).

Which led me to thinking I ought maybe to revisit the character of Obi Wan Kenobi. Why had H picked a book about him anyway? 

While we're at it we might a sky why are there even books (we're talking entire chapter books here) written about Obi Wan?

He's not the hero (that's Luke)

He's not the villain (that's Darth Vader)

He's not the Jedi Master (that's Yoda)

He's not comic relief (that's C3PO)

He's not even the side kick (that's Hans Solo)

So who is he?

He's the teacher.

He's the father figure.

He's the guy who advocates for Luke.

He's the guy who has found the middle way.

Woah. Is George Lucas a Buddhist?

Or maybe I'm just reading too much into it. Maybe Star Wars is just being a movie and you know, exhibiting its movie nature. Because sometimes a movie, is just a movie.

song: Force Ten • artist: Rush

winter lament (a couplet)

oh no!
more snow!

Parenting is ...

Matchbox cars on edge of the bathroom sink (a Corvette!)

All You Need is Love

Fourteen things I love (besides my family, my friends & my cat - duh!)

1.  a cup of tea
2. my garden
3. watermelon
4. diners
5. books
6. lilacs
7. thrift shops
8. laundry hanging from clothes lines
9. the subway
10. lucky rocks
11. black felt-tipped markers with fine points
12. hats
13. living in New England
14. lower case sans serif fonts

song: All You Need is Love • artist: The Beatles

FM (No Static at All)

song: FM (No Static at all)  • artist: Steely Dan

Love Stinks

Seventy valentines: cut, glued, decorated and names signed. The twins are ready for Valentine's Day at preschool. C has made, for the 3rd year in a row, heart-shaped key rings using Shrinky Dink paper (go ahead, say Shrinky Dink with a straight face - it's not possible) and for H's classmates we cut out heart-shaped pirate skulls and glued them to computer printout that read "yarrrrrrrrh okay valentine!"
Perhaps we are not up for any awards for creativity or execution of design but they are all done and no this isn't a post bemoaning the lack of hand-made valentines exchanged among children. But it is a post bemoaning all the candy that's sure to be attached to the cards my children will bring home on Thursday.
And for parents who refuse to attach candy there are pencils, stickers, temporary tattoos, fake Japanese erasers (made in China) and other items that are all too similar to the stuff that gets packed into party favor bags only to be spilled in the back of your mini van on the way home from the party and to lay there unnoticed and unloved in the back seat until the next time the car gets vacuumed out.
When did this start? Since when did Valentine's Day become such a grab fest? Since when do we have to attach something to the valentine? Isn't the valentine enough?
For the record and in case you haven't guessed, my children will be passing out nothing but cards - and Shrinky Dinks.
Sure there's been candy associated with Valentines Day since the dawn of time or at least since cupid got his likeness stamped onto a box of Whitman Samplers. But a box of Whitman Samplers far outshines a bag of Nerds or Wonka Fun Dip - that crap that hardly qualifies as candy.
Are you a bewildered parent like me? Would you rather not contribute to tooth decay but feel social pressure to pass out candy - after all - it comes with the box of valentine cards right? Wrong! Don't do it! Take a stand. My kids valentine bags smelled so sugary last year it was nauseating.
It's enough to give a card. Why up the ante? I was happy with just a card and I don't think our kids would be disappointed with just a card. Besides there's the school party with cupcakes, candy, and pretzels. The junk food or plastic in the bag is just extraneous. 
But wait, what's that you say? It's fun to give out candy or small presents. The holiday is about fun after all so therefore why are you, Joanne, such a party popper? 
Oh I don't know. I guess it's because C's ten which means I've been swimming upstream for a decade now with no spawning ground in sight. Let's take back these holidays people. Somewhere, between the extreme DIYers who are crafting exquisite heart-shaped containers from cereal boxes and buying a box of Lego Ninjago Masters of Spinjitzu Sticker Puzzle Valentines there's construction paper and a pair of scissors.

song: Love Stinks • artist: J. Geils Band

unfair (a quatrain)

snow day
turns gray
rain starts
fun departs

Shattered

Its sides were so cold after 44 hours without heat I thought my mug might shatter when I finally was able to pour hot tea into it yesterday afternoon.
It's amazing how quickly we revert to farmers' hours when faced with a lack of electricity and no schedule to keep. Usually I go to bed at midnight. The first night the power was out we stayed up and I read the Hobbit until after 10, then we all wend to bed around 11 and woke up around 9. On Saturday night we were all in bed by 9:30 and up just after 7. I'm convinced if the power had not come back on Sunday afternoon we would have gone to bed at 8 and gotten up at 6.
And what's with the headline in the Cape Cod Times? Wintercane? What's that? Aren't high wings and snow a blizzard? Don't we already have a name for it?
I should have shed a few pounds just from schlepping around so much weight in clothing the past two days. I counted seven layers on top including my vest, and six+ on the bottom. That's six including two pairs of socks. I am not the queen of layering for nothing. Needless to say I didn't need to don a coat when I went outside to bring in firewood.
It's also amazing how the subconscious jumps in and tires to help out when one is faced with a stressful situation. It was so windy Friday night that when I went to bed I was sure the windows in the living room were going to blow in or that some other storm-related calamity was going to befall (literally) the house. In my dream I was at jury duty in another town (some town suffering from severe urban decay). In the courthouse parking lot were all these delinquent teenagers waiting around to speak with their parole officer. While I was at jury duty my car was stolen and when I told the parole officer that I thought somebody had stolen my car she said, "probably."
Anyway, I was so relieved when I woke up and my car wasn't stolen - only buried in snow. Phew. It even made those two huge tree limbs lying in the backyard easier to take.

song: Shattered • artist: Rolling Stones

You're A Good Man Charlie Brown

Ken (on the phone): Do you want me to pick up anything for you before the big storm?
Me: Yes. Go to Staples and get me some glue sticks. If we're going to be snowed in, at least we can make a dent in the Valentine production.
We watched "A Charlie Brown Valentine's Day" tonight. I hope that Charlie Brown becomes a rocket scientist when he grows up, marries a super model, and attends all his high school reunions. 

song: You're A Good Man Charlie Brown • musical: You're A Good Man Charlie Brown

February Seven

I'm so exhausted that it's tiring to type.
C commented that his white blood must be working extra hard and that's why he's to tired.
I said yes, your white blood cells are fighting the Battle of Evermore. But he didn't get the reference.
Although there's nothing much to say today I couldn't let the day go by without a post on account of this song.

song: February Seven • artist: The Avett Brothers

Falling Slowly

Based on yesterday's definition, last night was NOT a good night.
Want to know what the radius is of vomit expelled from a top bunk onto a hardwood floor?
You don't.
Ken came up and asked me how bad it was.
I told him we should just pack up the kids and move out.
It was that bad.

song: Falling Slowly • artist: Glen Hansard

Parenting is ...

... declaring it a good night based on the fact that no one threw up.

Minute By Minute

Let's hear it for the lowly list. Lists were probably the first thing early man scrawled down when the written word was invented. Milk, eggs, bread - it's written on the walls at Lascaux. Cavewomen wrote things like "fix hole in cave wall, move stone wheel to garage"

You may prefer to make lists on an electronic device. You can even speak your list into your device and it will write the list for you. I'll not go into my regrets over the demise of handwriting and whether lists should be handwritten or not, or the personal satisfaction I get from scribbling out items once they've been accomplished.

I've been a list maker for a while know but last week I decided to step it up a notch. 

Be in the moment. That advice is dispensed all the time by loads of different people and it's sage.

But how do we go about being in the moment? Stop what we're doing and sit down? Can we only be "in" moments that are quiet? But what about all the sh*t we've got to get done? Mind numbing sh*t, the sh*t of everyday life. How we usually get through it is by thinking of something else. For me that something else is the thing I'm going to do next, the thing I should be doing perhaps instead of what I'm doing right now. This idea leads me to stop the thing I'm doing before it's completed so I can get started on the next thing, only to leave that thing as well when I suddenly notice something else. Later I'll go back to finish all the things I left partially undone. Usually things get done but it's a scattered, unsatisfactory, and exhausting process.

Hence the list. Write everything down. Large and small. Stuff that needs to be done every day and stuff that's specific to the day in question. Now I often make these kinds of lists. Not religiously mind you. I'll designate a steno pad from work as the to do list but ultimately I'll confuse it with the steno pad I keep real notes on and I'll write to do items on each of them which means I can't go back to a previous list on Saturday when I finally finish an item I wrote down on Tuesday. Another problem is that I'll make the list at night before bed. I'll sit and try to think of what needs to be done the next day and I can't think of the ten things that were rattling around in my head earlier. What I need is an ongoing list. So the rules of list making this week were that items on the list could be finished out of order but that it was against the rules to go on to another task until the one being worked on was complete. Now, what would normally happen is that I'd be hanging laundry up and I'd look down to notice (gasp!) all the crud on the laundry room floor. This needs to be swept up I'd say to myself and then I'd put down the damp, size 4T striped shirt and pick up the broom. Because if I don't at least start on the sweeping immediately, I'll forget it needs to be done at all until I come into the laundry room again and (gasp!) have the dirt revelation happen all over again. Under the rules of the new game I can't stop what I'm doing and tackle the sweeping, but I can get it out of my head by writing it down on the list. Then, with the idea of sweeping out of my head, I can get back to the laundry - and - the laundry gets done better, because instead of thinking of what I've got to do next (sweeping), I can think about the laundry. I can turn all the socks and footie pajamas right side out which constitutes a marked improvement over leaving them and then having my tired kids be unable to stick their feet into them and loose their cool over it right before bedtime.
Even walking upstairs and picking up items that are on the stairs because they are in need of being put away is off limits. Instead of picking up a Matchbook car or pair of sneakers and then forgetting the original reason for going upstairs in the first place, the exercise is instead to write on the list "clean up stairs."

You know what the Buddhists say. If you're folding laundry, fold laundry. If you're sweeping the dining room, sweep the dining room. The Buddhists are good at dispensing advice that seems obvious that on second thought is easier said that done.

The first day I followed this list-making regime not only did I get loads of items on the list done, including dinner prep, make pumpkin bread, and paint rocks, but I had time to sit and watch part of The Empire Strikes back with H, C and a friend who were home early on the half day. I even got in a walk around the block (it was on the list).

I may be pushing it but I believe that I might get the same amount of stuff done by using either method but by putting those thoughts down on the list instead of leaving them to clutter my head, I'm freed up - lighter if you will. Concentrating on one thing at the time is less tiresome and more rewarding than multitasking. 

song: Minute by Minute • artist: Doobie Brothers

I Get a Kick out of You

Okay - I can take that after one month my ten year old can navigate the iPad with ease and I still need to consult the directions in order to change the station on my internet radio, but how is it my seven year old understands football better than me?

song: I Get a Kick out of You • musical: Anything Goes

Celebrate Good Time (II)

Hey! Today's a great day!

And it's great not just because 45 years ago today I was born - - - but honestly I can't think of another reason.

song: Celebrate Good Times • artist: Kool and the Gang

Celebrate Good Times

I brought blueberry muffins to preschool yesterday so the twins could pass them out to celebrate their birthday. They have this little ceremony wherein they each carry a globe and walk around this lit candle that represents the sun for the number of years that they've been alive. As the audience we are charged with counting to five and hoping that nothing catches on fire.
While we were eating the muffins a little boy sitting nearby turned and addressed me:
"Next time can you bring in a cake - with glaze?"
I explained that my sister from Maine had visited recently and brought us 10 pounds frozen of blueberries which is I why I'd gone with blueberry muffins instead of cake, but he remained unimpressed.
In the car later yesterday afternoon N asked me when daddy would be getting old. Why do you want daddy to get old I asked.
"Because I want him to be dead."
Ouch.
"Oh. How come you want Daddy to die?"
"Because then he won't yell at me."
It's ironic because I too am guilty of yelling equally as often as Daddy, but as far as I know N isn't gunning for my eminent demise.
I tried to remind N that when Daddy wasn't yelling he was fun to have around, but N remained unimpressed.

song: Celebrate Good Times • artist: Cool and the Gang

Second Hand Rose

The jig is up. Last week I brought back, among other things, a pair of pajamas from the thrift shop for H and he said, "are these from the thrift shop?"

"Yes."

"That means someone wore them already."

"Yup."

I went on to explain my theory that just about everything we need already exists on the planet so there's no reason to go out and buy new stuff but I'm not sure if he bought it.

He did say this week that they were now his "favorite" pjs.

So guess who won the WMVY afternoon mind bender yesterday?

Me. That's who.

It's hardly fair though, the question was about Elvis. What kind of fan would I be if I didn't know the name of Elvis's mother?

For extra credit I know her middle name too.

song: Second Hand Rose • musical: Funny Girl

Shoot to Thrill

A 5-year-old boy and his parents received a written reprimand from a preschool because the boy built a gun out of LEGO.
According to the NRA the school administrators are taking the wrong approach to the situation. Instead of a reprimand, school personal should have given all the boy's fellow classmates and his teachers LEGO guns of their own.
Because after all, nothing stops a bad guy with a LEGO gun - except a good guy with a LEGO gun.

song: Shoot to Thrill • artist: AC/DC

Horchata

I love this song for its use of the word balaclava. So much more colorful than ski mask.
And everyone looks psychotic in one.

song: Horchata • artist: Vampire Weekend

Radio Song

Yes!

song: Radio Song • artist: R.E.M.

Golden State

WMVY has received pledges from 49 of the 50 states which confirms my belief that no one actually lives in North Dakota and that we only keep it in the Union in the off chance the Coen Brothers need it again as a back drop to one of their films.

song: Golden State • artist: Delta Spirit

The Streak

Today is Ray Stevens's birthday.
I thought this song was funny when I was 13.
I still think it's funny.

song: The Streak • artist: Ray Stevens

Pinch Me

song: Pinch Me • artist: Barenaked Ladies

You're No Good

Not only was there not enough snow to cancel school over, my sons informed me that the snow was no good for sledding, no good for building a snowman, and no good for making snowballs. 
Even our experiment with the snow, the sun, and the magnifying glass failed.

song: You're No Good • artist: Linda Ronstadt

Kiss on My List

In anticipation of the release of her book, Jamie Ayers is encouraging bloggers to post the 18 items (give or take) on their own personal bucket lists.
Generally speaking I'm against bucket lists. Adhering to one makes it seem like the point of life is to race from one bucket item to the next. 
There are folks who take up running, run their first 5K, and then sign up for a marathon. Why not just enjoy a jog?
There are 67 entries on the AMC's list of 4,000-foot mountains in New England. You can download an official application in order to become a member of the club. After you check off all your mountains you can buy yourself an official t-shirt and attend the club's awards dinner in April. But what about climbing the same mountain 67 times instead and getting to know it really well - finding something different to notice every time?
On the other hand, if people want to march though life armed with a checklist, who am I to stay it's not the way to go?
Besides maybe I'm being extreme. It's good to set goals. In fact I could probably use a few myself.
Eighteen eh?
1. Take my kids to Niagra Falls, Washington DC, The Grand Canyon, Mount Rushmore, Gettysburg and the Bay of Fundy.
2. Take my kids camping - in a tent.
3. Live in the moment.
4. Visit the Titanic Historical Society in Springfield.
5. Visit the Pacem in Terris Museum and the Storm King Art Center in New York.
6. Attend a Zen retreat.
7. Finish all the half-finished projects before I start new ones
8. Work on my Etsy site.
9. Get to one of my sister's art openings.
10. Take some classes at the Cotuit Center for the Arts
11. Make and can jams and dill beans, make ketchup.
12. Submit more articles for publication.
13. Write that historical fiction piece I've been thinking about.
14. Get those photo albums up to date.
15. Outwit the rabbits and moles and expand my garden.
16. Visit Sonoma County.
17. Visit National Parks out West. Yellowstone, Grand Teton, Arches. See giant redwoods.
18. Go to bed at 10:30 so I can read in bed for an hour.

song: Kiss on My List • artist: Hall and Oats

Don't Me Afraid of the Dark

Go figure. My kids are so afraid of the dark that I have to go upstairs with them to get their pjs out of their own rooms; but because there's a little snow on the ground they are all outside in the cold - in the dark jumping around in it.

song: Don't Me Afraid of the Dark • artist: The Robert Cray Band

Sweet Child O' Mine II

Looks like Dave Grundlund agrees!

song: Sweet Child O' Mine • artist: Guns N' Roses

Sweet Child O' Mine

Here's what I think about your right to bear arms. If you want to exercise your second amendment rights you should be issued a musket and a hunk of lead that you could then melt down and pour into a musket ball mold in order to create some nice musket balls for your gun. These you would be able to load and fire out of your musket at a rate of two, possibly three, per minute.
These are the arms your founding fathers used. This is what they had in mind when they said you had a right to bear arms.
If you want something more than what your founding fathers had - you'd better be prepared to have a thorough background check and to give a damn good reason.

song: Sweet Child O' Mine • artist: Guns N' Roses

ps. wash your hands after making those musket balls - lead's toxic.

Radio Nowhere

Surely everyone is wondering how the Save WMVY Radio campaign is going. 

The station has raised almost $500,000 out of the $600,000 it needs to fund itself for it's first year as a commercial free internet station.

Let me just say upfront I'm hugely for saving the station. It's depressing to listen to NPR all the time, and the folk station (despite what Gene says) kind of drones after a while.

This week MVY started playing sound clips from musicians who love the station. The clips all go something like "WMVY supported me, now it's your turn to support them." 

And this seems odd to me. Shouldn't the sound bite say "WMVY supported me - now I'm supporting them?" Are these musicians who supposedly got their start on MVY donating money to the station? I suspect they are but it isn't being mentioned. I suppose because people like me will assume that the Carly Simons, Bonnie Raitts, and Lyle Lovetts of the world will just take care of things and therefore we don't need to step up and pledge.

At any rate my money's with the station, literally and figuratively, and I hope whether you're an on-line listener, my neighbor down the street, or James Montgomery, yours is too.

song: Radio Nowhere • artist: Bruce Springsteen

Tea in the Sahara

I knew there was a good reason I was practicing Buddhism.
All the other denominations drink coffee (the Unitarians drink fair trade of course).
But Buddhists drink tea!

song: Tea in the Sahara • artist: The Police

Magic

It's disappointing when your biggest accomplishment of the day is finally sitting down (at 11:30 PM) to order the wand replica that your 10-year-old son swears he's going to pay you back for with his craft fair earnings.
It's even more disappointing when the wand he wants you to order is Voldemorts. He's the villain for goodness sake. Why doesn't C want Harry Potter's wand?
But you know what's funny about the whole business of replica wands? The catalogue includes wand from characters who barely made the cut in the movie - Dean Thomas for example (he was just a roommate!), Viktor Krum (Hermione's lame first love interest!) and Fenir Greyback (okay the name's familiar but I can't even place him). Also, while you might be interested in buying a replica of Luna Lovegod's wand, she being the Cindy Lauper of the Harry Potter series, who on earth would want to buy a replica of her dad Xenophillius's wand? The guy was in two scenes! Or Draco Malfoy's wand - he was a major character and all but he was a bad guy and not even the head bad guy.
Then there are some serious omissions. No wand for Neville Longbottom? He was one of my favorite characters! The everyman's wizard. And what about Hagrid's umbrella wand? Who would want one of those?

song: Magic • artist: Pilot

Stairway to Heaven

The twins are into counting. Really into counting. You might say they are in their counting phase. They especially like to count to 100 when we are in the car. But also they love to count staircase steps.

I know for instance that there are 12 steps making up the stairs in our house, 20 at the rec center, 12 going downstairs at the Woods Hole Community Hall, 7 leading in to the Woods Hole Library, and 14 leading from the first level of the library to the basement. 

I especially like how they'll count the steps repeatedly - just in case the number changes.

We were on our way to the library this afternoon and there was general chaos ensuing in the back of the car. As I turned onto Old Palmer Avenue Led Zepplin came on the classic rewind satellite radio station. 

Above the din I yelled, "listen up you guys. This is probably the most requested song of the last quarter of the 20th century."

"That's the 1900s," C corrects me.

"I know," I say.

"I know this song! Rolf Harris sings this," says C.

"This is the original," I correct.

After a few minutes I realize that entire back of the car is quiet Eerily quiet. It's as if everyone's in a trance. I check to see if they are all asleep but no one is. 

OMG, I realize. Stairway to Heaven is the key to calming down my twins.

Either that or they were dreaming about counting all those stairs.

song: Stairway to Heaven • artist: Led Zepplin (or, if you prefer, Rolf Harris)

ABC

So my parents bring the twins home tonight and they have this new activity book, it's turned to a page that's got the alphabet on it.
I say to N, "Take this in the living room and tell Papa what letter this is."
He says: "Papa already knows his letters.
Touché

song: ABC • artist: Jackson Five

If You Don't Know Me By Now (II)

People sometimes ask me about C's decision to wear shorts all the time - even in the winter.
Why does it do it?
Is he hot?
Is he cold?
What do his teachers say?
Is there a certain temperature he's shooting to go below?
I say, he's 10 years old. He hasn't written up a personal manifesto yet.
I don't know why he wears shorts all the time though I suspect it's his way of being an individual and he just likes to. Ditto for the long hair.
But people really want things to happen for a reason, and a logical reason at that. We are all more Dr. Spock than Captain Kirk.
I am reminded of the passage in The Little Prince where the Little Prince attempts to explain grown-ups and their ways.
"If I have told you these details about the asteroid, and made a note of its numbers for you, it is on account of the grown-ups and their ways. Grown-ups love figures. When you tell them that you have made a new friend, they never ask you any questions about essential matters. They never say to you, "What does his voice sound like? What games does he love best? Does he collect butterflies?" Instead, they demand: "How old is he? How many brothers has he? How much does he weigh? How much money does his father make?" Only from these figures do they think they have learned anything about him."

song: If You Don't Know Me By Now • artist: Simply Red

If You Don't Know Me By Now

Today's mail consists of appeal letters from EarthJustice, Defenders of Wildlife, ASPCA, and the Arbor Day Foundation; and three catalogues from companies whose mission is to make you look as if you are constantly either coming from or heading to yoga class.
Am feeling a bit stereotyped.

song: If You Don't Know Me By Now • artist: Simply Red

With or Without You

It must be warming up. There's a handful of fruit flies hovering over the compost.
So there's a Facebook group called "Christians Against Obama's ReElection." Isn't that just a long way of saying "Christian Sore Losers?" I must confess I heaved a big sigh and unfriended the former classmate who linked to this group on her Facebook account. And it's not because I only want to be friends with people like myself, I know that there's nothing really gained from only associating with people who think the same way you do, it's just that I don't have the energy for the negativity. Know what I mean?
Now if only there was a Facebook group I could join called "Housewives Against Fruit Flies Returning."

song: With or Without You • artist U2

I'm Winning

I just told S & N that I would give a prize in the morning to whichever one of them fell asleep first.
I am shamelessly out of ideas.

song: I'm Winning • artist: Santana

I Can Help

I asked H to bring in the recycle bins this morning and he kindly obliged.

He even asked if he could bring in the garbage can.

"Sure." I said. "Thanks for being such a helper."

Later on when Ken got home his first question was, "Why did you bring in the trash can before the garbage truck went by?"

song: I Can Help • artist: Billy Swan

World of Wonders

Yesterday I saw a Waldorf School of Cape Cod bumper sticker on the back of a van next to McCain/Palin, Scott Brown and Mitt stickers.
Maybe the world did end on Dec. 21

song: World of Wonders • artist: Bruce Cockburn

Sitting

I thought it was just my kids but the cat won't leave me alone in the bathroom either.
She's worse than the kids because she'll claw at the door when I lock her out. My children just cry.
My guess is she knows I'm sitting down in there and she figures there's a chance she can get in a few minutes of lap time.

song: Sitting • artist: Yusuf Islam (Cat Stevens)

Cold as Ice

I like keeping the car thermometer on Celsius, especial on days like today.
Why be 14 when you can be -11?

song: Cold as Ice • artist: Foreigner

Knock Three Times

People will tell you that kids go through stages. They will rattle off terms like "terrible twos" and "separation anxiety" and describe what the typical baby, toddler, and preschooler is like.
You will dutifully memorize these stages and watch for signs that your child has entered one.
Because of your vigilance in watching for the early signs of the oral fixation or bed wetting stage you might miss the sings of when your child enters the knock, knock joke stage. You might even think, because you haven't read about the knock, knock joke stage, that your child is unique in his or her sudden interest in knock knock jokes. You might be proud of this and say to friends, "Little Johnny is so into knock, knock jokes. It's the cutest thing." Parents of younger children will nod in agreement thinking that knock, knock jokes are a huge step beyond drool-on-your-fist stage which is where their kid is at. Parents of older children will just shudder and possibly convulse at the memory of when their own kids entered the dreaded knock, knock joke stage, which, in a twist of nature akin to the irony of 13-year-old girls being able to get pregnant, happens well over a year before children can actually read at which point they could tell a decent knock, knock joke. Also, despite loving the idea of the knock knock joke, preschoolers don't really understand the knock knock joke.
What's to understand you ask? Only that the knock, knock joke is supposed to be funny and when your four year old tells you a knock, knock joke it's funny that he's trying to tell you a knock, knock joke - but the joke he's telling isn't funny. Because he's making it up, and he doesn't get it, and he's bad at it. And so you end up with:
Him: Knock, knock
You: Who's there?
Him: Bird
You: Bird who?
Him: That one.
And because you are a good parent you will say, "good one!" thereby reaffirming in his mind his ability to tell bad knock, knock jokes. Which will lead to him telling more knock, knock jokes, probably when you are in the car and therefore unable to escape their relentless non-funniness. In this type of situation it's best, despite your Buddhist pledge to live in the moment, to zone the little bugger out. Think of the Queen. Think of what's for dinner tomorrow. Think of what the hell Peter Jackson was thinking when he decided to split The Hobbit into thirds. That man should be bound and gaged and made to sit in the car with a knock, knock joke-telling preschooler. Fifty Shades of Bilbo Baggins.
H even went through a stage when he told bad chicken jokes.
For example:
H: Why did the chicken cross the road?
Me: I don't know. Why?
H: Because the farmer was chasing him with a gun.
Ouch.
The knock, knock joke phase usually takes place around ages 4 to 5. It's followed by the create-your-own soup stage (be sure to have carrots and bullion cubes on hand) from ages 6 to 7, and the bathroom-talk stage which starts around age 6 - and - if you have sons - lasts until they turn 30.

song: Knock Three Times • artist: Tony Orlando and Dawn

You Decorated My Life

Over the holiday I rearranged the table in the kitchen and frankly it's fabulous.
It has totally changed my life.
So far the new year is off to a great start.

song: You Decorated My Life • artist: Kenny Rogers

It's Just Another New Year's Eve

 

Song: It's Just Another New Year's Eve • artist: Barry Manilow

Parenting is...

explaining that the "touchie takie" rule applies only to food and not to 59¢ items at the Christmas Tree Shop.
Nice try guys.

The Christmas Song

In wrapping up Christmas 2012 I'd like to remember how I got down with the holiday music this year. Not my traditional holiday music either the traditional, fun, and even corny stuff.
My usual bag of holiday tunes features songs that basically make you feel guilty for enjoying yourself at Christmas. Songs with the theme of "I don't know how you all can celebrate when there's so much suffering going on?" These songs include Father Christmas by the Kinks, Do They Know It's Christmas Time? by Band Aid, and The Rebel Jesus by the Chieftains. 
Normally I hate it when radio stations start playing Christmas tunes in November. And what's worse than a tired over-played Christmas song? An over-played retail advertisement set the the tune of an over-played holiday song (thanks a lot Target).
But this year I found myself switching the radio to the all Christmas all the time stations specifically looking for Frosty and Rudolph and then to classics like Hark the Herald Angels Sing (which my kids think originated with A Charlie Brown Christmas), Jingle Bells, Walking in a Winter Wonderland, Little Drummer Boy (which I found out makes my cry if I'm asked to sing it out loud), It's Beginning to Look A Lot Like Christmas, Santa Claus is Coming to Town, Oh Christmas Tree (which my kids also think is from A Charlie Brown Christmas), and even Santa Baby, Jingle Bell Rock and of course the classic "I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas."
Why this sudden embracing of Christmas music that usually nauseates me? My kids of course. The twins specifically. It was the first time they ever responded to music on the radio (expect when WMVY plays Upside Down by Jack Johnson and they get excited because it's the "Curious George Song.") 
S & N aren't tuned into music as much as C & H were. The result of my slipshod parenting no doubt, I never took them to a Music and Me class or to any live performance save this summer's Toe Jam Puppet Band show at Highfield Theater. They specifically tell me "not" to put on music for them at bedtime.
So it was fun to have them get excited when Frosty would come on in the car. They would tell us all to be quite so they could hear it and then ask me to sing it again once it was over. And listening to Christmas songs through the ears of kids is fresh and fun. Like anything you can see for the first time from a kid's point of view. In that way they kids always notice things we take for granted like airplanes and birds singing, everywhere we went my kids noticed Christmas music playing.
One of our new favorites was Up On the Housetop. Up on the housetop reindeer pause, out jumps good old santa claus. Down through the chimney with lots of toys, all for the little lines Christmas joys. Ho, ho, ho, who wouldn't go? Ho, ho, ho who wouldn't go? Up on the housetop click, click, click. Down through the chimney with good St. Nick.
We seriously couldn't get enough of this song. We even liked the Jackson Five version. It's catchy and singable though the lyrics are odd. Who wouldn't go where? And then there are two verses that stereotype gifts for girls and boys but whatever - it's Christmas and I'll overlook it. We didn't memorize those verses anyway.  
So I let go of my political Christmas tunes and embraced lighter fare. It's best not to over analyze Christmas song lyrics although S & N did ask repeatedly why the other reindeer called Rudolph names. I'm guessing that would not go over too well at their preschool.
I figure I've got one, maybe two more years left to embrace holiday music with my kids before Jingle Bells Batman Smells takes over so why not make the most of it rather than have regrets that I never got silly with my kids over Alvin and the Chipmunks? 
There were still a few tunes I got tired of. I'll never embrace Dominick the Italian Christmas Donkey, or I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus, or that one where the little kid wants to buy his dying mom new shoes (sorry, little drummer boy is sentimental; that other kid is just plain irritating), but I confess that by the end I wasn't jumping to change the radio station the minute my kids were in bed. I was kind of into, dare I say, the Christmas spirit?
I suppose it would be entirely scroogish of me not to go along with the Christmas tunes while my four year olds were embracing them. And so I got into it too. 
And you know what?
I like Christmas songs!
I do. I like them Sam I Am.
What the hell. I can always go back to Emerson, Lake, and Palmer next year.

song: The Christmas Song • artist: Torme and Wells

winter haiku

winter woods walking
exposed leafless tree branches
and summer birds' nests

Murder (or a Heart Attack)

In high school I read a horror novel in which a woman is killed by a demonic cat. The cat scratched the woman to death or until it opened her jugular - whatever - it was long and drawn out and made an impression though not enough to dissuade me from eventually getting a cat of my own.
Now, as a seasoned cat owner, I wonder why the literary kitty expended so much energy dispatching its prey instead of just hunkering down and tripping the woman as she went down a flight of stairs.
I'm pretty sure that's how Leo is planning to get rid of me.

song: Murder (Or a Heart Attack) • artist: Old 97's

Spirit of the Radio

Good news!
Mommy got an internet radio for Christmas.
So now, if they do save WMVY, I'll still be able to listen to it.

song: Spirit of the Radio • artist: Rush

Parenting Is...

not caring who started it.

Really you guys. I don't care who started it. Just stop it.

I Saw Three Ships

I don't understand why people were so surprised earlier this year to learn that Jesus might have had a wife.

Don't they know the lyrics to this song?

I saw three ships come sailing in 

On Christmas day, on Christmas day 

I saw three ships come sailing in 

On Christmas day in the morning. 

And what was in those ships all three? 

On Christmas day, on Christmas day 

And what was in those ships all three? 

On Christmas day in the morning. 

Our Saviour Christ, and His Lady, 

On Christmas day, on Christmas day 

Our Saviour Christ, and His Lady, 

On Christmas day in the morning

Obviously they were returning from a honeymoon cruise. 

Probably to the Virgin Islands

song: I Saw Three Ships • artist: unknown

Forever Young II

I think that someday I'd like to be the kind of person who wraps gifts using only hand-made wrapping paper and ribbon and no tape whatsoever. This would be handy since I can never find the tape when I want it anyway.
But for now I can't even joke about because all I can think about are those parents in Connecticut who will be burying their children next week instead of wrapping Christmas presents for them.

song: Forever Young • artist: Bob Dylan

Forever Young

Enough with the sentimental. 
It was bad enough, even though she was excellent, to see Bonnie Thorpe, who graduated FHS one year ahead of me, playing aging film actress Norma Desmond in the Falmouth Theater Guild's fall production of Sunset Boulevard but it's even more disturbing that Peter Cook (although he was at least three years ahead of me at FHS) plays Grandpa Joe in the current production of Willy Wonka at the Cotuit Center for the Arts. 

I checked the original text - Grandpa Joe's 96 years old! Ninety six!

The theater is making me feel old.

song: Forever Young • artist: Bob Dylan

Knockin' on Heaven's Door

Along with typewriters and floaty pens I collect double digit birthdays. Double digit birthdays go like this, my birthday for example is 2/2 (February 2), Doug's is 1/1, Glenway 3/3, my friend Christine 4/4, Kat (who gets bonus points for having the year match as well) is 5/5. And so on.
As you're certainly aware today is 12/12/12. Today would have been my friend Tom's birthday and I suppose it still is in a way.
It's been five years but it's still strange to talk about Tom in the past tense. It's strange to type his name. In fact I usually don't. If I mention him on this blog it's often in the present tense and rather cryptically which might leave readers wondering who I'm talking to or about.
Maybe this stands to reason since one of the things Tom complained about regarding our friendship was me being the kind of person who doesn't express my emotions freely. I call it being a good Yankee, but "I always have to guess what you're thinking" I believe was how he put it which is ironic considering.
Over the years I think we learn that there are times and circumstances where it doesn't pay to be a good Yankee.
Since it's a numbers kind of day. Here are a few.
- Every 13.7 minutes someone in the U.S. dies by suicide.
- Suicide rates are highest for people between the ages of 40 and 59.
- Men are nearly 4 times more likely to die by suicide than women. 
- Women attempt suicide 3 times as often as men.
- Suicide is the 10th leading cause of death in the United States.
Sucky stats right?
I cannot think of a topic that's harder to talk about - or as it turns out - harder to put into writing.
So here I am - expressing myself albeit briefly. I miss you. If you were here I'd raise a glass of orange soda and drink it to your good health. Maybe I'd have bought you that Arnold Schwarzenegger autobiography and we could have remembered all the good (and bad) movies we saw at the Nickelodeon and laughed about Tom Cruise spoofing Axl Rose this year in Rock of Ages.

song: Knockin' on Heaven's Door • artist: Guns N' Roses

Radio GaGa

And so starts the third week of "Save WMVY Radio." 

We didn't win the giant stocking - which means we really, really need to save the station - so we try again next year. 

The station has been reading comments by donors both near and far. Although I know the station has a strong on-line presence, I'm still surprised to hear comments from out of state callers. Recently they read a message from a woman in Oklahoma.

On the one hand it's heartening to hear from these people, it takes a village to save a station and all, but on the other hand I get a twinge possessive. Who are these people anyway and why are they trying on hone in on MY local radio station?

I get the same twinge when I see out-of-state vanity plates sporting the names of Cape locations. I recall a car from Illinois this summer with a plate that read "Waquoit." What's up with that? Do I drive around with a vanity plate that reads "Chicago?" Who are they to lay claim to my hometown?

Then it comes to me. I live in a place that other people love. Love so much that they advertise their fondness for this peninsula by naming their favorite locales on license plates - or by listening via their computers to the local radio station. 

It also makes one pause and consider the potential dearth of decent radio in Oklahoma.

song: Radio GaGa • artist: Queen

I'll Be There

Only one more day to call in. I live in fear that I will seriously disappoint my kids by being unable to procure us a chance to be in the drawing for the WMVY giant Christmas stocking.
It's not for a lack of trying though. I have dutifully listened, ears cocked, ready to jump Pavlovian-like at the sound of the Christmas elves.
I have been caller number 2,3,4 (numerous times), 6, 7 and 8,
Everything but lucky caller number 9.
And caller number 5 but nobody cares about being caller number 5. So forget I mentioned it.

song: I'll Be There • artist: Jackson 5

What I Like About You

Okay. I'm somewhat over my WMVY depression if only because I've convinced myself that no matter what happens Carly Simon will step in at the last minute and buy the station. Maybe as co-owner she'll fill in occasionally as a morning DJ which would be fine provided she never plays her own rendition of Itsy Bitsy Spider, because, as someone who's heard a lot of kids' music over the past 10 years, I've heard better.

Still I feel remiss about my previous post where I suggest that people support the radio station but describe the station in terms of the things I don't like. Let's be clear - there are plenty of reasons to love WMVY. Aside from the station being local and the DJs acting as absentee friends for lonely mostly stay at home moms the Cape and Islands over, I love the general music mix (duh), I love the Morning Movie Quote (whenever I'm up early enough to hear it), I love the At Work Challenge and the Afternoon Mind Bender. I love Sunday Morning and all that Jazz, which is saying a lot coming from a person who generally eschews music without lyrics. I love the Hot Seat and the Friday Afternoon Six Pack. I love that they don't overplay holiday music. I love their tradition of playing Alice's Restaurant on Thanksgiving. I love hearing the Steamship Authority update. I love On this Day in Musical History and their Black History Month clips. I love the Top 25 Albums countdown.

But I hate that I'm not qualified to win the giant stocking yet (caller number 2 twice today and number 4 once)

song: What I Like About You • artist: The Romantics

Radio Radio

It's always hardest to write about things that are important to me personally. It's easy to write off-the-cuff stuff about my children, or observations about the way things are in general. But when you really care it's hard because it's important. That's why we talk all day to our kids but sometimes fail to cover the real issue, the one thing you should be talking about. 

It's hard to believe you need me to make a case for why we need local radio stations but then I read recently that there are people in China who don't realize that in order to get ivory the elephants have to be killed (they don't shed their tusks). So, what seems obvious to me, may not be to everyone.

We need local radio stations for the same reason we need local newspapers and locally owned shops and restaurants. We need them because they support the communities they are in. They report on events like agricultural fairs, road races, July 4th fireworks and tomorrow's Christmas parade. Without promotion maybe these events would go away. Maybe someday we will live in a world where we all shop at Amazon and we all vacation at Disney World.

Last week WMVY radio announced its frequency (92.7) has been bought out by WBUR, Boston's NPR station. This in itself is ironic since I've often complained of not being able to hear NPR without radio static which just goes to show that one should be careful of what they wish for. 

Sure I don't love everything about WMVY. There are songs they over play, I could use less Blues at Eight, and some of the stuff on the Local Music Cafe just isn't very good, but, like a long-term relationship you've made a commitment to be in, you vow to take the good with the bad. 

On a personal level, in addition to supporting the local community and playing new music along with the old, WMVY keeps me company Monday through Friday. By the time I get up, Ken has already turned the radio on; when I go to bed, it's the last thing I turn off. 

Often I feel that I'm not old enough to be wringing my hands in despair and wondering out loud "what's this world coming to?" Where will we be when there are no more radio stations except those we pay for and no more news outlet except for the ones online? What happens when there are no more magazines that people can read and then pass along via the free magazine box in the front of the library? What happens when the chasm between the have and the have nots widens even further? 

Even if WMVY raises enough money to continue online, I'll have to be dragged kicking and screaming into the radio internet era. Not to mention the expense. It's one thing to go searching for a replacement radio at the thrift shop among the dented saucepans and mismatched mugs, it's another thing to have to play the radio through your smartphone or other iDevice.

I'm not saying I'm not willing to do it though so go ahead and make a donation.

song: Radio Radio • artist: Elvis Costello