My mind is MUSH!

It's Wednesday and I'm behind on grading and everything else in my life. I have a million things about work running through my head at every second...so much so that I dream about the paperwork I have to do.

I can only say that all this distraction in my head caused me to 1.) talk back to the answering machine last night to my best friend, actually thinking she was talking to me.

And 2.) Back out of a Sonic slot this morning from getting a diet Coke and push the button to close my garage door.

Am I crazy? Let me rephrase for you: I am crazy.

When I got to work a few minutes ago...a rooster was crowing across the street. Is it just now time to get up?

I've got soul but I'm not a Soldier

London Ready for 2012

What fun the Olympics have been. I forget how patriotic I become every four years, not for the the Presidential campaigns, but for the 17 days of excitement surrounding the performance of the world's greatest athletes. I am forever inspired...a story here...a story there...something always moves me to tears during the Olympic run.

The next summer Olympics will be in London in 2012, and after Beijing, what could any country do to top the fanfare of 2008? British commedian Matt Kirshen uses humor on Friday's All Things Considered with Robert Siegel.

Where I'm From

I’ve heard it been said that if you don’t know where you’re from, you’ll have a hard time knowing where you are going. This very idea helps us to think about our roots as we begin to know our place in the world. A few years ago I was introduced to George Ella Lyons poem called “Where I’m From.” I loved this poem and began writing my own “Where I’m From” each year. Today, I use it as a writing assignment for my students and hope it lends itself to a wonderful exploration of their past and sense of belonging in this world.

Click here to listen to George Ella Lyon read "Where I'm From."


My Where I'm From

I am from metal lunch boxes,
From Estee Lauder perfume on the bathroom counter, and tacos for dinner.

I am from the back yard swing set
A splintered redwood deck
A dusty ball court
A place to wash cars in the summer.

I am from heart-leaf philodendrons watered every Saturday,
The old English rose bush whose blooms clung to the bay window peeking inside.

I am from breakfast on Christmas morning.
And being resourceful.

From Susanne Mae and Geraldine and Grandpa J.
I am from workaholics and gardeners
From family men and weekends at the lake.
From “never say I told you so” and “kiss me goodnight.”

I am from church—twice on Sunday,
and Wednesday night bible class.
From Jordan’s Stormy Banks and Canaan’s Land.
I am from Brush Arbor singing and Dinner on the Grounds.
From Springfield, Missouri and Pennsylvania Dutch.

I am from homemade ice cream and Granny’s “Half as Much” pie crust.
Red-eye gravy and Springfield Cashew Chicken.

From dad, skipping class to shoot buckets,
and mom, changing into mini-skirts at the bus stop,
and the two of them stealing kisses in the ’55 Chevy two-door hardtop.

I am from the picture box, bursting at the seams,
old and sturdy,
that makes us laugh on Christmas eve.