Songs for the Times - Part Four

It’s Halloween.

So for this installment of songs that speak to me regarding our current political state, I thought we should dress up the candidates a bit.

Send in the Clowns – by Steven Sondheim from the musical, A Little Night Music

Isn't it rich?
Are we a pair?
Me here at last on the ground,
You in mid-air..
Where are the clowns?

Isn't it bliss?
Don't you approve?
One who keeps tearing around,
One who can't move...
Where are the clowns?
Send in the clowns.

Just when I'd stopped opening doors,
Finally knowing the one that I wanted was yours.
Making my entrance again with my usual flair
Sure of my lines...
No one is there.

Don't you love farce?
My fault, I fear.
I thought that you'd want what I want...
Sorry, my dear!
And where are the clowns
Send in the clowns
Don't bother, they're here.

Isn't it rich?
Isn't it queer?
Losing my timing this late in my career.
And where are the clowns?
There ought to be clowns...
Well, maybe next year.

(Boo!)

Blog-A-Versary

Today marks the first anniversary of this blog.

I had no idea when I started what I would write about. Thus I can say it has remained true to its title. I rarely know from one blog to the next what I’m going to put up.

For those of you who have been kind enough to join me in my randomness I say, “Thank you!” I hope to see your Random Comments in the coming year.

To Mark the Occasion, here are a few Random Quotes.

“Do or do not, there is no try.” Yoda

“You are never too old to set another goal or to dream a new dream.” C. S. Lewis
“Manuscript: Something submitted in haste and returned at leisure.” Oliver Herford

“What would you attempt to do if you knew you could not fail?” Unknown

“It’s always too early to quit.” Norman Vincent Peale.

“When the mouse laughs at the cat, there’s a hole nearby.” Nigerian proverb

“Nothing is more dangerous than an idea, when it’s the only one we have.” Emile Auguste Chartier

“Man is a reasonable animal who always loses his temper when he is called upon to act in accordance with the dictates of reason.” Oscar Wilde.

“The chief duty of government is to keep the peace and stand out of the sunshine of the people.” James A. Garfield.

“The handwriting on the wall may be a forgery.” Ralph Hodgson

“Throughout history the world has been laid waste to ensure the triumph of conceptions that are now as dead as the men that died for them.” Henry de Montherlant

“The point to remember is that what the government gives it must first take away.” John Strider Coleman

“The oldest, wisest politician grows not more human so, but is merely a gray wharf rat at last.” Henry David Thoreau

“Democracy passes into despotism.” Plato

Moments of Fame

I take ideas for blogging from other people like Christy and Rena, who posted about the times in their youth when they were in the newspaper.

I was in the St. Thomas Daily News (a Pulitzer Prize winning paper) a total of four times.

This is me in 1966 accepting those pearls for catching that barracuda.

In the summer of 1969 I was a volunteer in a summer school program working with elementary kids. The little blurb that went with the pictures reads as follows:
“Caribbean Summer House activities are being enjoyed by 210 children in the Savan area this year, with average attendance of 185. Co-sponsoring the program with the V. I. Youth Commission is Pastor Ronald D. Lokhorst, of St. Thomas [Dutch] Reformed Church. Other scenes show tots and teens happily engaged in courses which emphasized reading, arts and crafts, music, and recreation. Privately supported by gifts, the project received half of funding from the Community Chest. The five-weeks project ends Aug. 15.”

Here’s the group. I am 3rd from the left, front row. Note buffalo sandals. I was the only local volunteer. All the other kids came down from the states.

In this picture I am the white head to the left working with a group of kids in the reading class. That summer was also memorable because all of us went to a house that had a TV and we watched the Moon Landing.

In 1970 there was an inter-scholastic Speech Arts Festival in which five schools competed. I think one of my proudest moments was when I won first place in the poetry reading contest. What, you might ask did I read? Actually I “read” it from memory; “The Stolen Child,” by William Butler Yeats. If you can’t pick me out I’m the one towering over the other two. That’s a little jingle bell around my neck. That little tiny mini-skirt was in shades of orange and was one that my mother made. I’m surprised my school let me wear it since we were hosting the affair.

The fourth time I was in the paper was as part of a group shot with my senior class as we were getting ready to leave on our Senior Class Trip, which I wrote about here, and where a picture has already been posted.

Ahh, trips down memory lane. Ain't they a hoot?

Senior High Picture Challenge

Rena and some other bloggers had put out the challenge to post your senior high picture. I had to scan this out of my 1970 yearbook, that's why it looks so grainy. What you can't see is the acne...which I had pretty bad. (Rhyming not intended.)Those credits next to your name? Mine read:

Girl's Sports I: I was on the winning football team in 9th grade. Granted we only played one game against one school but we won it hands down. The "league" was disbanded because the mother's of the girls from the other participating school decided it was too rough a sport for their girls to be playing.

Miss A. S. P. S 2nd Runner Up I: That stands for All Saints Parish School. Dad always thought it was appropriate that we were called asps. I played my guitar and sang a song. Can't for the life of me remember which one or what possessed me to compete against the popular girls. I remember being terrified. I was surprised to make 2nd Runner Up, but then...there were like only four girls going for the title!

Yearbook III, Copy Editor IV: Which I wrote about recently in A Writer's Journey.

Mixed Chorus II: I should have sung every year in the choir but I didn't.

Student Council II, IV: In my senior year the Student Council was responsible for changing uniform requirements, loosing them up a bit; like being able to wear sneakers or something other than loafers or tie shoes (we were never ever allowed to wear sandals) and no socks. And girls were given the option of wearing solid forest green or green plaid skirts. Unfortunately for us senior girls plaid skirts didn't become an option until the following year.

To this day I have never worn a forest green skirt. That said, I think uniforms would solve a lot of problems in public schools. All the kids in all the public schools in the islands wear uniforms. Each school has its own color. A person can immediately tell where a kid goes to school by the uniform he or she is wearing. Also a uniform eliminates the problem of kids competing for status through their clothes. Rich and poor are wearing the same thing which starts everyone out on a more level playing field. No designer labels, no obvious second-hand/thrift shop clothes. Also, it's cheaper for parents. Three or four pairs of pants/skirts, five or six shirts/blouses and you're set for the school year. Makes sense to me.


PS: The pearls are mine. They are real cultured pears. I won them them in the 1966 Annual Fourth of July Fishing Tournament for "best girl angler." I caught an 11 1/2 pound barracuda. Got my picture in the paper and everything.

Abilene: An Update

As of Thursday Abilene is street legal. She has new tires, an exhaust system, insurance, license, and inspection sticker.

She’s gone on a couple of road tests. There are a few bugs to work out which is what road tests are for. But the problems don’t appear to be anything major that can’t be fixed. For the most part, she’s run beautifully.

Stan is amazed how smoothly it’s gone. Can you see the grin on his face? He is really happy.

Songs for the Times - Part Three

I keep having this suspicion, as stock markets keep falling, that there are people out there still making money. I suspect corporate honchos because they are kings who lord it over the peons who do the work and I suspect politicians and because they like to give themselves mid-night raises with money we, the peons, send to them for the privilege of working for the honchos. These people, no matter what the financial crisis going on, will continue to live well, have great health care, be able to give their kids a good education and be able to pay their electric bill.

Meanwhile the rest of us will struggle, unless of course, we all become corporate honchos or politicians. Hmmm, what a thing to do.


Baby You’re a Rich Man – by John Lennon and Paul McCartney - The Beatles -Recorded in 1967, it appeared on the U. S. released album Magical Mystery Tour, even though it was originally supposed to be part of The Yellow Submarine soundtrack.

How does it feel to be
One of the beautiful people
Now that you know who you are
What do you want to be
And have you traveled very far
far as the eye can see

How does it feel to be
One of the beautiful people
How often have you been there
Often enough to know
What did you see when you were there
Nothing that doesn't show

Baby you're a rich man
Baby you're a rich man
Baby you're a rich man, too
You keep all your money in a big brown bag
inside a zoo, what a thing to do
Baby you're a rich man
Baby you're a rich man
Baby you're a rich man, too

How does it feel to be
One of the beautiful people
Tuned to a natural E
happy to be that way
Now that you've found another key
What are you going to play

Baby you're a rich man
Baby you're a rich man
Baby you're a rich man, too
You keep all your money in a big brown bag
inside a zoo, what a thing to do
Baby you're a rich man
Baby you're a rich man
Baby you're a rich man, too

A Writer's Journey: Or How Writing Found Me

Writer buddy Joan over at Vicissitudes recently recounted the story of how she came to writing. She challenged her readers to tell their stories. I told her I’d take a stab at it.

Here it is.

There was a period of time when I was home schooled. My mother used the Calvert Course, which has now been in the business of home schooling for over a hundred years. I began the Calvert Course when I was around seven, so I probably started with 2nd grade. Mom and I had a daily routine of reading, writing and ‘rithmetic. I remember I had to memorize a lot of poems. I still know quite a few.

Mom was pleased with the course so we continued with it into the 3rd (and 4th) grade. A 3rd grade assignment was to write a little essay about my family. Up to that point I don’t think I’d written more than the occasional required paragraph. Mom later said she didn’t expect to get more than a page out of me. Writing was pretty much torture, both the physical act (my handwriting was HORRIBLE) and because I had such a hard time with spelling because I was (am) mildly dyslexic.

What a surprise when I pumped out three pages describing “My Family.” Despite the fact that the pages are long gone, one word from my essay has become part of the family vocabulary. In describing my sister and me I called us “the grils.” At least I was consistent; I called us grils throughout the whole piece. Erva and I have been known as “the grils” ever since.

The very first thing of mine to be published was a poem in my 1969 yearbook. Right after the title page is this two page spread picture of all us high schoolers standing around the parking lot. (Look at all those VW Bugs! And yes, that’s all of us, 9th through 12th grade, I went to a small school.)

In the bottom right corner is my poem. Ahem….

The Tangled Vines of Confusion

The tangled vines of confusion
Suddenly begin to separate
And grow straight up.
Suddenly there is a path before you
Where there was nothing –
Suddenly there is something from inside you
Encouraging you on – telling you
To take that hesitating step forward.

In my senior year I was the copy-editor for the yearbook and had two pieces published, which I won’t bore you with. In the late 70’s I wrote at least half a dozen articles for the local newspaper on St. John about growing up on St. John in the 1950’s.

In 1980 I started working at a home for abused and neglected kids. Three years later I was the assistant editor of the newsletter which went out six times a years to about 10,000 people across the U. S. and even to places like Australia and England. Over the next 18 or so years I wrote A LOT of articles for that newsletter. I also did all the layouts and took most of the pictures.

Inbetween all that I wrote for myself. I wrote journals, poems, short stories, and made many attempts to write novels. I have most of these horrible pieces, going all the way back to high school, in a four-door file cabnet. I'm running out of room.

Throughout it all, lying semi-dormant in my heart was the desire to write for children. So, when I finally “retired” from working at the home I decided to take the Institute of Children’s Literature writing course. It’s been about five years. I have had a little success; just enough to keep me plugging away at it.

Ultimately I give credit to Mom. From that first 3rd grade essay she sensed I might have a talent for writing. Through out my life she has gently and consistently encouraged me to keep at it. Mom was my first fan. My first book, whenever I finally get one accepted and it gets published will be dedicated to her. There was even a period in my life about 10 years ago when she somehow sensed that I wasn’t writing so she sent me the book, (which I highly recommend for anyone who feels "stuck") The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron. She inscribed it, “For Bish, Follow the Way. Love, Mom.”

I took her advise. And I Follow the Way not because of the destination but because it's the journey that's important.