A New Kind of Audience

Posted on January 26, 2016 by hdh

I’ve written in the past about audiences and who educates them how to respond to performers and performances (see http://www.hdhstory.net/Storyblog/?p=64). In that piece of writing I referred to different kinds of performances and audiences and their attentiveness and interactions to performers. It’s been 8 years since I wrote that piece. Not much has changed in regards to the audiences, however I’ve noticed a new problem in how audiences are taught to be audiences or listeners to artistic performances. I call it the Common Core syndrome.

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The park and other things…

Posted on January 11, 2016 by hdh

The apartment house that I grew up in the Bronx was situated next to a small local park. The park was simple, some trees and benches in the main part. There was a brook that divided that part from the wooded area, which itself was bordered by the Old Methodist Home for the Aged. There was an asphalt walkway that went up a hill on the other side of the park. On the other side of that walkway was a large hill that up until someone build a house there, was covered with dirt and rocks and boulders. My apartment which was built on that hill had two different levels of entrances. You could go in on the basement or lobby level which was at the bottom of that hill or on the 6th floor entrance which was at the back of the building facing the uphill side. Manhattan College was across the street.

The park and areas surrounding it were used as places to relax for older residents and games like punchball, hide and seek, and hounds and hares (my favorite) by the kids in the area (which sometimes made it difficult for the older residents to relax).  The walkway was used mostly during the winter months when snow was on the ground as a sled riding course. We would build some speed bumps mid way through the path not to slow us down but to give us a little lift and speed as we hurtled down the hill.

Sledding down the walkway with my father.

Sledding down the walkway with my father.

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Life…

Posted on November 14, 2015 by hdh

This month’s writer’s prompt in my writing group I chose to use was: Write about a millionaire who suddenly loses his fortune and finds himself without any possessions.  This is different from my usual writing as I delve into fiction.  I’d be interested in where people reading this entry think I should go with the story. Ideas anyone? What follows is what I wrote:

To have it all is what makes us powerful. We strive for possessions and monetary gains so that we have total control over our lives and the people that we interact with. I always believed that that was the essence of life. So throughout my career I was focussed on what I could gain. I worked hard at first to gain position and fortune. The more that I made, the higher position in life I achieved the less, I had to work. I was a worker for a short period of time, moved up to supervisor, to management, to CEO. It didn’t matter to me who I stepped on as long as I got more. Through my ruthless pursuit of wealth and power I became one of the multitude of millionaires that exist, still striving to gain more. Love…Never found the right person. Everyone was a tool, so how could I find someone. Love…was money and power.

The accident was not planned. I can’t believe I fell for the scam. The hostile take over and scandal was poorly timed. I am back at the beginning. A time to reflect. A time for reality to sink in. A time to discover the real meaning of life. To survive.

My past left me no friends, no support and no where to go. Once where I thought there was light, there is now darkness and despair. But I can’t think that way. I won’t fall into the mindset of suicide and capitulation. I am still strong. I must go on. But maybe in a different direction. It’s time to explore. Time to explore the other side. Time to become what I never was. Time to live. 

And then I met Tina.

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A Day in October

Posted on October 10, 2015 by hdh

In September of 1985  Hurricane Gloria hit Long Island. There was much devastation. I was living in an apartment in Manorville. We lost power, which lasted over a week. I left my home to visit my sister in New Jersey where she had power so that I could do simple things like take a shower and do laundry. Schools were closed so I didn’t have to work. I came back in October when some power had been returned, expecting to continue my routine life at home, by myself and at work. Little did I realize that things in my life were about to take a major turn.

In my spare time I liked to go to contra dances. I belonged to a music organization, LITMA, The Long Island Music Association, which had dances every few weeks. I also played in a contra dance band, Raw Bits, for some of those dances. At one of those dances I danced with this girl who I thought I might be attracted to. I was never the information gatherer and neglected to get her name or any information about her. That, unfortunately, is the nature of contra dancing; you tend to dance with a lot of different people and rarely unless you came with a partner dance with the same person again. As a band member, I would occasionally see her at dances but never had a chance to interact other than that chance meeting.  There was another girl at these dances that I did interact with as did most of the other people in the band. She was having a party at her house on October 5th and invited all the members of the band to it, including me.

Of course then Gloria hit. The question was whether there would be power at all when the party was supposed to take place. Power did return the day before.  Even though I didn’t usually go to those kind of events, I decided that evening that I would go.

I got there at the appropriate starting time, it was dark, and there were no cars at all in their driveway or on their street. I should point out that she shared a house with 5 other people so there should have been a number of cars there. Since I didn’t know her that well and I wasn’t sure if I got the house or time right, I decided to turn around and drive away for a while. I came back about an hour later and there were a number of cars there and I could hear music and people talking going on inside the house. I decided to to stay. Good Plan!

It was very crowded. I knew a few people, but my eye caught the eye of that unnamed girl from those dances. I decided to ask her to dance. And I asked her again, and again and again.

There may have been more people at that party. I’m sure I got to talk to a few, but my eye, mind and soon my heart was captivated by this now named woman, Christina.

As the party ended, she walked me back to my car and gave me a light kiss goodnight. We exchanged phone numbers and I went home.

A few days later, I’m not sure who called who first, but we began a relationship that has lasted for the past 30 years. We were married on March 30, 1990, which we celebrate each year to honor the anniversary of our marriage. But October 5th is the day I hold more dear. It is day I truly met the one part of me that had been missing and that I hope to continue to keep for as long as I am able.

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Changes

Posted on September 12, 2015 by hdh

This piece of writing was done at my writing group on 9/12/15.

We had a number of objects to choose from as story starters. I chose an empty Evian water bottle.

———————-

What is it about water nowadays that has made us so conscious of health and in particular about what water we drink. When I was young any water would do. You could drink out of the cement water fountains in the park, your garden hose, even streams that ran through the woods and parks where I grew up. As I got older we moved away from water and went for bottled drinks, like coke and seven-up. We became more discerning about the water we drank and stopped drinking from streams and such, but would still drink from water fountains and hoses.

Then I became an adult. Oh what germs these public places held. Sure you could drink from a fountain, but let the water run for a bit before you put your mouth near it. And hoses…no way! That didn’t stop me by the way in 1989, after Hurricane Hugo, from getting water for my house from my next door neighbor who had city water by running the garden house from his outside spigot to my outside spigot to feed my water line which was well-water (with no electricity the pump didn’t work). City water flowed through my house, which I drank. Since I wasn’t drinking from the end of the hose it must have been safe, right?

Now I get older and there is an abundance of bottled water both flavored and unflavored. Clearly if you are going to drink water, it must be bottled. We’ve added a filter to our water faucet that we use for drinking water. We even use that water for making spaghetti. Clearly all the water that I drank as a child must have been different. Water from a tap now is obviously tainted. Otherwise why at some restaurants do they offer you bottled or tap?

All this is added to the myriad of safety changes that we made. Obviously we were lucky we survived by being ignorant when we were young. Riding without a bicycle helmet, tasting the meatloaf in its raw state to determine if it was seasoned properly, eating raw eggs, eating raw cookie dough, playing outside in the neighborhood unsupervised, having to organize your own sports instead of playing on an organized  baseball, soccer, hockey or basketball team.

As we grow older are we more conscious of what is going on around us or are we becoming more paranoid? It’s probably a bit of both. I become an official senior citizen tomorrow. I hope that in some way I can hold on to and experience the fun and carefree enjoyment of the things I did when I was young, continue to be aware of the changes in our times, and continue to grow in the next phase of my youth.

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Let me show, don’t tell me

Posted on July 6, 2015 by hdh

During high school when I studied history, I never got further than World War I, if at all. I certainly do not remember about anything prior to 1900 that I was taught. Now consider today almost 50 years later and how much information must be added to all of the history that I wasn’t taught. Add to that the Standards that the States impose on teachers and you have a very limited amount of teaching and learning about history that can be accomplished.

Sometimes when I’m sleeping, I get my best ideas. How to teach history and other subjects that fall into “there is a lot to teach these kids in one year” has been tweaking my brain for answers these past few days. I think I’ve come up with a plan. Teach the students how to research and present data not just the data.

Here’s my plan:

Starting in kindergarten teach students the various ways that they can share information. I would probably start with storytelling. A lot of classes do that informally when they have morning meetings and show and tell. Do it more often. In addition to free sharing, give students specific things to share about. In the primary grades it could be simple things like tell us about how you fixed something. Share one of your favorite trips. Teach us something you just learned about. We used to do a program called, “Magic Circle” that allowed students to share on a daily basis and replay back what others had told them. It was an awesome program. That’s what kid’s today need more of. Continue reading →

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Journey

Posted on May 9, 2015 by hdh

Today’s writer’s group story spark was “Life is a journey”. One of the ideas was to write an acrostic poem entitled “JOURNEY” That’s what I chose to do. Following the writing of the acrostic poem, I went further and defined what the meaning behind the poem was:

J une
O verworked
U nfinished
R elaxed
N ervous
E xpectant
Y early

June is generally the last month of the year. That is if you are a school teacher. Things begin to pile up with all of the responsibilities you have to end the year with your class and that you must accomplish that are necessary so that students are ready to move on.

Working hard to get to June is nothing compared to the amount work you do during June. The nights preparing for completion of lessons and projects; the writing of reports; the meetings with faculty to create classes for next year. You are truly overworked in anticipation of the summer to come.

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Lover’s Dance

Posted on February 14, 2015 by hdh

A dance of time between two lovers

On the dance floor is the woman of my dreams.

She twirls and sashays from partner to partner.

Only the stage of music separates the players from the dancers.

Do I take the chance and ask to dance?

Do I remain a player on the stage observing the seconds of time pass by?

I take that step and she says yes.

We dance together for but a moment.

Her face, engraved in my mind.

Its memory stays with me

Though months pass, I continue to seek out the one.

On occasion a glimpse, a shadow of the night I saw her first.

Then comes Gloria and its aftermath

Invited to a house party of another dancer, I choose to go.

Time stands still

To be on time is not to be.

An empty house

No cars to see, I turn around.

I change my mind

Time moves forward and I return.

More cars, it is real, I go in.

And there she is, the house mate.

The memories of the past rush forward

Hesitation is not there this night.

Do you want to dance?

We do. And do. And do.

A goodnight kiss…we’ll call again, and again.

 

For 30 years, the lovers dance.

HC at Silver wedding

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Here I sit

Posted on January 10, 2015 by hdh

This piece was written at my writing group today:

As I went through my teaching career I took a lot of courses that were required in order to get my Masters degree. Having received my degree there was no requirement for me to take anymore classes or courses other than those suggested by the district as inservice courses, based on some programs the district was trying to implement. But I had other interests. I was a musician. I played guitar in my class and sang with them as a self-taught guitarist. I utilized the music staff in my district to learn other instruments like violin and other string instruments. I was also interested in sign language. Again I taught myself some basic stuff from books, videos and a basic inservice course, but there was so much more that I wanted to learn. Continue reading →

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the guitar

Posted on April 12, 2014 by hdh

When I was 13 years old I got a guitar as a birthday present. I was always somewhat musically inclined. I had taught myself how to play the harmonica when I was 7 years old. My parents had me take piano lessons when I was a little older. That lasted only a few years. When I started Junior High School I joined the band and learned how to play trumpet. Taking the trumpet home, I figured out how to make all the notes of a scale, but got no credit for my effort which is probably why I only last 2 years on the trumpet before the band teacher dropped me from band. But at 13 I got a guitar.

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