To Read or Not to Read

 

To Read or Not to Read

I was never much of a reader growing up. Though I may have been encouraged to read, much was done to dissuade me and not motivate me. I don’t remember my parents reading to me at all. Though I do remember one book, Uncle Wiggily’s Travels. This was a book about a rabbit that went on many adventures. Each chapter ended with a unique sentence that would lead on to the next story, like “So if toy balloon doesn’t take the spout off the teakettle to blow beans through at the egg beater, I’ll tell you next about Uncle Wiggily’s Hallowe’en.” It’s these endings that made the book memorable. So much so, that I searched them out when my son was young and read them to him. As for me, I’m not sure who read them, if anyone, to me. I may have just picked the book off the bookshelf in my house and tried to read it myself. 

Many kids got into series novels like The Hardy Boys, Nancy Drew, The Bobbsey Twins. I remember that I tried a Hardy Boys book once but don’t know if I ever finished it. My series was, Tom Corbett, Space Cadet. It appealed to my inner muse guiding me to the Science Fiction genre. I liked the books so much that I wrote my own version of a Space Cadet story, but instead of using the book characters names, Captain Strong, Tom Corbett, Roger Manning, and Astro, I used the real names of me and my friends Jeff, Steve, and Mark in those roles. I shared this story and its multiple pages with my seventh-grade homeroom teacher. Whether or not he liked it, I don’t remember. I only know that I never got it back.

My teachers in 6th grade and 7th grade did their best to disinterest me in reading. Though they picked great books to have us read, they didn’t differentiate instruction for those with lesser reading abilities like me. In sixth grade, the book was the unabridged edition of The Three Musketeers. In 7th grade, it was The Iliad and The Odyssey. That is where I learned how to use Cliff Notes and Classics Illustrated Comics.

On my own, I rarely picked up a book to read. That all changed in college when I was introduced to the author, Alistair MacLean. The first book I read was Ice Station Zebra. From there I read all of his books, saving The Guns of Navarone for last. I hesitated to read that book since I loved the movie so much that I didn’t want to ruin it. The book was just as good.

From then on, I loved reading. Authors like Robert Ludlum, Brian Jacques, Kristen Britain, Philip Pullman, and others keep me going. My favorite book is The Phantom Tollbooth by Norton Juster. My favorite series is Redwall by Brian Jacques. My favorite time to read is at night, or if it is snowing or raining outside and I’m by myself. Most of what I read now are stories and folktales so I can increase my storytelling repertoire and internalize more writing ideas.

Someday I still dream of becoming a published author. My favorite genre being fantasy and science fiction, though I do have a lot of material to write a memoir. I guess time will tell. 

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I yam what I yam

I yam what I yam

“I yam what I yam and that’s all what I yam”

A cartoon sailor did say.

It means what you see, is who I must be

So accept and respect it’s my way.

 

I can change if you ask and give me some time

To give it some thought and agree

But it might stay the same because that’s who I am

So accept and respect, it’s just me.

 

Mistakes might be made if I take the wrong path

I will hopefully find my way home

Feel free to suggest an alternative route

But respect that the choice is my own.

 

Let me say that I hear all the words that you speak

But my listening is not always there. 

My mind wanders at times as your words pass on through

I guess you don’t feel that I care.

 

Accept and respect works both ways I should know

So I’m sorry when mine is not there

It is not my intent, I’m the one you should blame

With your help, I will be more aware. 

 

This world is at risk as we bicker and moan

On the things that we can’t all agree

Between your views and mine, there must be a point

To accept or we’ll lose, that’s the key

 

Though we don’t always get what we ask when we talk 

Both opinions still need to have voice

We must give and must take till we both can agree

And accept with respect our joint choice

 

Why when everything’s said, of the things we should want

There are two that stand out in my mind

It’s respect and acceptance of those that can show

They are open and willing and kind.

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An Inner Dialogue

I was asked to write an imaginary conversation with someone about an issue that is troubling me. These two personas have appeared in a lot of my writing. Keep in mind, their conversations have saved me a lot of money on psychotherapy.

HDH:  Why is it that every time I have an issue that I need to flesh out, you show up?

Self: Who else knows you as well as I do?

HDH: That’s what you always say.

Self: Because it’s true. So what seems to be the issue this time? 

HDH: Work, or lack thereof.

Self: And that’s a problem…You’re retired, you don’t have to work.

HDH:  That’s the problem. I don’t have to, but I can’t just sit around and do nothing. I like doing things, being with people, working with kids. Besides the money I make certainly adds to improving my lifestyle. 

Self: Why not travel, help the poor, volunteer, exercise?

HDH: One, I’m not fond of traveling, don’t mind being there, it’s getting there that’s the issue, ask my wife. Two, I tried the volunteer thing, that didn’t work out for me; Believe it or not, I have trouble dealing with strangers and didn’t feel confident that I knew what I was doing. And three, exercise? I’m not a person that can get myself up to do solitary exercises. I’m more of a team player. Of course, the teams I would have to play on now would have to be much older.

Self: So do the things you like to do. You substitute teach; that’s working with kids. You like to sing and tell stories which also involves kids and adults. You write; that involves communicating with other people. 

HDH: That may sound good, but in practice actually being successful doing that is not as simple as it seems.

Self: In what way? 

HDH: Start with subbing. Teachers like me in their classrooms as well as the students do. They like my experience and the things that I do that enable me to engage their class rather than just do busywork. However, classes are not all the same.  A number of them are hard to work in, especially if it is a primary class. Plus, I’m restricted to their curriculum, which though I can approach it in a creative way, it can somewhat restrict the way I would like to teach. With more and more mandates that means less time to be creative for all involved including the full-time teachers. And being a “substitute”…well, remember how you behaved when there was a substitute in the room? 

Self: But what about writing and storytelling, you love doing that and you have the creativity of your own thoughts and way of doing what you want. 

HDH: You’re right there, I do love to write and storytell, but in those issues the difficulty is audience. As a writer, I want my work to not only be appreciated but reacted to. I do get that in my writing groups, which is great, but there is a much larger audience out there that looks at my stuff and says nothing. Since 2006 when I started publishing my blog I’ve had over 17,000 readers of writing I’ve done, from all over the world. Granted some of them are the same people but other than some Likes and Loves on Facebook, there are not many comments. It actually feels good when someone who reads something I’ve done says something about it or turns around and shares it with someone else. Readers of my writing that choose to share my work with others, though not a direct comment to me, infers one which does make me feel good.

Self: And storytelling? 

HDH: Storytelling works when you have people who listen and respond to you. It works when fellow storytellers in groups I belong to listen and react. It works great when I’m subbing because the kids know me, request it and listen well.  It works when the teachers in the classroom model listening also, which doesn’t always happen. There are times especially when I’m performing that the people that hire me, don’t even see my performance or when a group is getting disruptive, no adult present steps up to help; either they are not paying attention or assume that I’m the one who should be controlling bad behavior. Then it’s not fun.

Self: Finally, you’ve said it. In order for you to do the things that you want to do and feel good about it, you need to have fun doing it.

HDH: I guess so.

Self: So then go and have fun. Don’t do it for other people, they’ll get what they get from what you do. Do it for yourself. Remember, your greatest audience is you. As Mark Twain said, “Find a job you enjoy doing, and you will never have to work a day in your life.”

HDH: So I should do what I like doing and enjoy the fact that I like what I’m doing?

Self: Correct. If you get to play with some ideas as you teach, get an article published, get hired to tell stories at more venues where the audience participates in your telling and shows appreciation, that’s a bonus. Otherwise, just be yourself and have fun with it. 

HDH: How come you’re so positive this time. You’re usually the negative Nelly and find all the holes in my arguments.

Self: Don’t ask me, you’re the guy writing all this stuff down.

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True Reflection

True Reflection

He considered himself a good looking man, loved by others for his generous donations, a hard worker, always making sure that he and the people around him worked at their best. He looked into the mirror expecting to see this image reflected back. But this was no ordinary mirror. 

As he looked at his reflection, staring back at him was an old man. Deep lines of worry and sadness encompassed his face. It was not a smile that he saw but a grimace and a sneer. The clothes that he was wearing reflected back as dismal, shabby rags. The hair, thought to be dark and well coiffed, was an unkempt gray with patches of baldness coming through. Who was this man that he was looking at? 

Of course, it was himself. As it reflected more closely to the person that he was, he realized what he felt about himself inside was not the persona he portrayed. There’s one thing to look good, to dress in the finest clothes, to adorn oneself with the fanciest watches and jewelry. And then there’s the flaunting of one’s wealth, the condescending attitude towards the people that sell him these wares and work for him; the cruel and infantile name calling that continued throughout his interactions.

Yes, he donated to charities, but only to ones of his making. Ones in which he himself gained some income from. All those other needy organizations that asked for help and assistance, he laughed at, made fun of, and gave nothing. 

Being a taskmaster might make people work their best for him, but his unrelenting requests to work longer hours for no pay, and criticism of good work that was being done, left a stain on the people he interacted with. Some quit working for him, others were fired. He didn’t care. It was his image and income that counted more than anything. Everyone must know that all he did was for the good of the community.

Of course his definition of community only included himself. 

So there he stands in front of this mirror, that he’s never looked into before, and he looks at the person reflected back at him. He decides that he is not shocked by the image he sees. He knows it must be fake, some trick played by some unworthy, disenchanted person. And in acknowledging that to himself, the image he sees changes back to the good looking man, with the dark well coiffed hair, who’s generous, a hard worker and loved by all. At least by all who count. That would be himself.

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A Leap of Faith

A Leap of Faith

It was back in the ‘80s. I had been teaching for 7 years and was asked by the Middle School that I had worked in to act in their musical play, “Hans Christian Andersen”. They wanted to cast me as Hans. I took a leap of faith and agreed. I’ve written about this before (http://www.hdhstory.net/Storyblog/?p=483).  I had never been in a play before, and certainly never told stories. I was enthralled by the reaction of the audience to the play and my performance, so much so, that I decided to find out more about this thing called storytelling. I read books about it and discovered that there was an organization called N.A.P.P.S. (The National Association for the Preservation and Perpetuation of Storytelling). I even convinced my school district to send me to down to Jonesborough, Tennessee one weekend in October to the National Storytelling Festival (I went the following year also). I was hooked. 

Coming back to my class after that first week in Tennessee, I decided to test out my storytelling skills with my class. I decided that I would take one daily reading aloud time each week and tell a story instead. For the first one, I found the story I wanted to try. It was a Jack tale, “Jack and the Robbers.” It was a long story, so I decided after reading it a few times I would tell it in two parts. The first part, one week, and finish with the second part the following week. What I didn’t expect was that when I finished the first part, my class wouldn’t let me stop. They demanded the second part right then. So I told it, even though I hadn’t practiced it. (http://www.hdhstory.net/Storyblog/?p=24)

The following weeks I told more tales. It became a part of my program. I even got students involved in telling tales.

Telling stories also solved one of my anxious activities as a teacher, Open Houses! When my mindset changed from giving a lecture to parents about my curriculum and class expectations to telling them a story about my curriculum and expectations, Open Houses became mostly anxiety-free. I even added some real stories to my presentations. 

Storytelling, as well as writing, has become an important part of my life and who I am. I’m glad that I made that leap and took the part of Hans Christian Andersen. It’s amazing how one role in one play can inspire you. Of course, considering what happened, who knows what I would be doing now and how great I’d be if the play I was in was about Thomas Edison. 

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I’ve Got a Feeling

I’ve Got a Feeling

Feelings throughout the day always waffle between feeling good and productive to feeling lost and reflective. When I can write and be creative, there are definite feelings of joy and success. 

When I get reflective, it’s usually the what-ifs? The overwhelming desire to divorce myself from the routines of life and just veg out and dream. 

Mixed emotions drive the day and always have. What makes the feelings thrive is being able to share what I do with others. That’s why writing is so important. That’s why being around people that share thoughts, ideas and experiences helps me. 

It helps me understand more about the world in general, but more importantly, it helps me understand who I am. Where I fit in, in this world of strife and disorder. 

Empathy, sympathy, and kindness are what I seek and what I hope I can provide for those who need it, whether it be family, friend, colleague or stranger.

To be heard and in turn just listen. 

How do I feel? I feel open, vulnerable, and hopefully accepted. I hope that I can also be accepting, nonjudgemental and available for others that need to be heard, even if I have no idea how to respond. 

It would be nice, in my opinion, if the rest of the world felt the same. I think I’ll reflect on that.

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A Winter’s End

 

A Winter’s End

The winds blow fierce this winter’s eve

Ten feet of snow, my time to grieve

Nowhere to go, Nowhere to stay

As frostbite rears its head today

I sit and wonder why I’m here

I’m left alone, my end is near

The time for thoughts as I get numb

Drift to the good and not the glum

I  see my past when I was young, 

a pleasant time, of joy, and fun 

I see those times downhill I’d go

On sleds and skis above the snow

With skates and sticks on ice we’d play

With snowmen built along the way

Those rosy cheeks and breaths so clear

And driveways plowed with others near

Of comfort from the world so white

With fires bright from logs at night

And blankets with their fleece so dear

Warm clothes to wear, hot chocolate near

Where love did flourish and friends abound

Where future hopes and goals resound

An endless life filled with much bliss

But for my choice that I must miss

I should have said that I would stay

And then enjoyed this winter’s day

Instead my venture I have blown

By going out all on my own

I thought I had just what it takes

To reach my goal, catch all the breaks

But fates decreed that not be so

So here I lie entrapped in snow

I hope I am remembered well

As one who tried but never tell

This one mistake that I must keep

It’s time for me to go to sleep.

 

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Hello, Goodbye – a Beatles Journey

The writing prompt was to take one of the titles of a Beatles song and use it to inspire an original story, poem, or memoir of your own. I chose a few.

Hello, Goodbye – a Beatles journey

I remember it all as if it were yesterday. My name is Noah, Noah Airman. The year was 1965. I was to go to the engagement party of Rita, Lovely Rita, meter maid in a small town outside of Moscow. Wasn’t supposed to take any time at all. I had never met Rita before, but she was a friend of a friend and I was invited. We had all come together for this one occasion. Rita was going to marry a major figure in the Russian mob. Of course, I didn’t know that at the time.

After the party, Rita introduced me to her fiancé, a Mr. Obladi Oblada. Right then and there I should have gone home.

I said, “My name is Noah Airman, glad to meet you, sir.”

He gripped my hand firmly, looked me straight in the eye and replied, “No formality needed here. I am the Walrus,“ obviously referring to his mob designation, “You can call me Wally.” He continued looking at me and then turned to stare into the face of Rita, who happened to be eyeing me in an amorous sort of way.

About a week later I happened to run into Rita again. She glanced at me with puppy dog eyes and asked if I could take her for a ride. “Baby, you can drive my car,” she said. I should have realized right there trouble was brewing.

I got behind the wheel of her Mustang and she sat down very close to me as we drove off. It was a long and winding road. After a while, she nudged even closer to me and said, “I want to hold your hand.” and tenderly took my hand. I stopped the car.
I was not prepared for what happened next. She put her lips close to my ear and whispered, “Do you want to know a secret?

This boy did not know what to say. She didn’t wait for a response. As she moved her hand to my leg she uttered, “Oh Darling, Please, Please me”.

I didn’t know what to do. I called out, “You’ve got to hide your love away. You’re going to marry Wally.” I feigned dropping something on the floor of the car all I’ve got to do is get out of the car. As I bent down all hell broke loose. I guess back in the U.S.S.R. mob bosses don’t appreciate women who are betrothed to them trying to make passes at other men. To them, happiness is a warm gun. Bullets flew as a car drove by and Rita was dead.

I was left alone by myself. Calling for Help I need somebody was useless. In my life, I’ve never been so scared. I was the fool on the hill.

I finally did make it back to my hotel unscathed and unseen and left as soon as I could. I decided to let it be and not mention the incident to anyone. I flew to Norway. Last I heard Wally was also killed a short time later during some mob takeover. That was a day in the life of me I’ll never forget.

Norway, too, was eventful but in a different way. I was a day tripper one day, hiking in the Norwegian Wood, and I saw her standing there under a tree. Her name was Michelle, she was a young French girl. We spoke a little and it wasn’t long before I realized, she’s a woman and she loves you, yeh, yeh, yeh. And I love her. I figured you can’t buy me love; this was the real thing. Even knowing she was just seventeen, I knew we were meant to be all together now and forever across the universe.

I told her, “I’ll keep you satisfied and keep on giving you all my loving, so when I grow older, like when I’m 64 or so, it will still be the two of us and I can still wake up each morning look lovingly into your eyes and say, Good day Sunshine.”

Remember, in the end, The love you take is equal to the love you make.

p.s. I love you.

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Life has me by the ankle!

Life Has Me by the Ankle!

Josh was not what you would call an adventurer. So everyone was surprised when he accepted an invitation to go rock climbing at Yosemite. The truth of the matter was that Josh’s hearing wasn’t what it used to be, so what he heard instead of, “Do you want to go rock climbing at Yosemite?”  was, “Do you want to go to a mock trial on integrity?” Being into simulation games and a practicing lawyer, that was a no brainer. He responded, “Definitely, you can count me in, looking forward to it.“

Of course, once he realized what he really agreed to, he was too proud to admit he had heard it wrong. So here he was one week later ankle totally twisted up in his climbing rope, who knows how many feet hanging upside down above the hard ground, wondering whether he would live to tell the tale.

Josh tried his best to control his breathing. He heard voices above him and below him, screaming to let go of the rope. Were they out of their minds? What kind of friends are these that actually want him to fall. He was smart enough to keep his eyes closed so he wouldn’t see what was going on. Pulling on the rope wasn’t helping, it just made the tangle of rope on his ankle tighter. Hanging upside down blood rushed to his head, he was beginning to lose it. He felt himself slipping lower and lower in short spurts. Was the rope beginning to fray? If the rope broke… His life was not supposed to end like this. He had so many things left to do; after all he was only 28 years old. 

Suddenly he felt strong hands grab hold of him. He heard a voice in the distance say, “Josh it is time to cut you loose.” 

As he slowly opened his eyes he asked in a quivering voice, “Is this heaven?”

“No,” replied his friend Roger, “We’re still here at the practice wall. Unfortunately for you, the way your ankle looks, it doesn’t look you’ll be going with us to climb Yosemite tomorrow.”

Sometimes life throws you a curve when you’re trying to live your life to the fullest. And sometimes mistakes you make create events that turn out to grant you wishes you never thought would come true. Ain’t life grand?

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A Question of Resolution

A Question of Resolution

In defining the word resolution one can look at the advances that have been made in technology. Resolution is the ability of a television or film image to reproduce fine detail. 

Let’s look at the television over the years. First, there were the black and white TVs. They created an image that seemed clear to us growing up in the ’50s, even if it was small. But it was as it says, black and white. 

Then came the color TV. Somewhat expensive at first and still gave a pretty good picture. As we developed things from tubes to transistors color screens became more defined as did the pictures they showed. 

As big bulky TVs were phased out, soon came the flat LED and Plasma 

screens that were in 720 or 1084 high definition. Pictures now became very clear, so buying larger TVs made more sense. And now there are Ultra HD OLED screens. Crystal clear images where you see everything as if you were observing it under a microscope.

Similar things happened with computer monitors that went from monochrome screens to RGB Color, to High definition, to Retina color screens and even more.

Too bad that all these improvements in resolutions, which allowed us to picture so much more clearly everything that is happening in the world, didn’t help us clearly see what is happening in reality. 

Why is it in this world of anger, discordance, and strife we can all see the same things happening right in front of us, such as climate change, bigotry, abuse, inequality and all and yet not see clearly enough to act in a just and common way? 

The definition of resolution in music is the progression of a dissonant tone or chord to a consonant tone or chord. Shouldn’t that be our goal? The concept of resolution is improved clarity. Not just how we see things, but how we understand them. As we’ve improved the resolution of screens and other technologies, let us improve our own resolution of thought and behavior. Let’s stop thinking only about ourselves, but of our future and generations to come. 

Then we can sit back and watch those gigantic, super, ultra-high holographic screens and bask in the knowledge that what we are seeing is what we resolved to create – a better world. Now that’s a resolution I can look forward to.

 

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