2418 Thought I'd share this

After writing about time in no. 2416, I came across this poem I wrote in 2004 after the death of a friend from church. I don't think I've posted it before--not sure I was finished with it. But obviously I was thinking about the differences in my work life and my life now--not that all these are my specific interests or even hers, but I see them in people I admire who quietly live out Matthew 25:31-46.

At the funeral
by Norma Bruce
June 24, 2004

You rest now, dearest friend,
It is my turn--and I‘m rich with time.

I’ll take the casserole to the family
instead of preparing a report.

I’ll teach Sunday School
instead of pondering software instructions.

I’ll stand in the booth to sell tickets
instead of taking a business trip.

I’ll visit the stroke patient
instead of interviewing candidates.

I’ll mentor inner city kids
instead of marketing my skills.

I’ll weed the flowers in the park
instead of reviewing the budget.

You rest, sweet soul,
and may God welcome your servant’s heart.

2417 Today's writing prompt

Our writing group rotates the responsibility for snacks and prompts. Two weeks ago we received the prompt that we read today, and it is on reunions. The prompt writer suggested 14 possible topics, each broken into even more narrow options.

I've written a lot about reunions, so I've really been scratching for something new to say. I've written an oral history that I gave to relatives at a 1993 reunion and I've expanded on the story about how that oral history came about; I've written about a cookbook for a family reunion and about a recipe in that reunion cookbook. I've written about our 40th class reunions; I've written about my husband's club (the Slobs) reunion; I've written about other people's reunions. If I dig around in my files, I'll find a poem I wrote about reunions. I've written about reunions of books and reunion of furniture, long separated. One of the first pieces I had published was about books long separated that had a reunion of sorts in a computer database, Bruce, Norma J. "A Bibliographic Field of Dreams," AB Bookman's Weekly for the Specialist Book World, 94, no.14 (1994): 1290-1302.

Yesterday I was waiting for the washing machine to finish a cycle and pulled a small album of extra photos off the shelves. There were photographs in it apparently that had not been included in our regular album. But like an answer to prompt-prayer, there were photos of the SLOBS (my husband's high school social fraternity) at a mini-reunion at our house. As I recall, we first met downtown at a hotel for lunch. One couple had come from Kentucky, one from Indianapolis, one from Akron, and we of course, live in Columbus. How this was decided, I don't remember, but probably Columbus was central and the nearest for everyone. Then after lunch, we came to our house. This photo of Danny, Duke, Bob and Dick, may not represent everyone who was at the hotel. We all had grown children, some had grandchildren.

SLOBS Reunion at our house
Because these photos are extras, I don't have the dates recorded so I had to narrow it down by hair styles and clothing. Dating photographs is something genealogist do all the time. So using my incredible powers of discernment, I notice that the shelving behind us went into my husband's office in the family room about 1995. I have on a snazzy sweats outfit--the bright colors indicate it had probably not yet been washed. We bought our cottage in the fall of 1988, so this outfit was probably purchased during the summer of 1989. Duke (the tall guy) still has dark hair; he now has white hair. My husband, shorter red head, actually has hair in this photo, which also places the photo in the late 1980s or early 90s. I have a curly perm, which puts it after the summer of 1989. We all seem to have on warm clothing, so I'm placing this as maybe January or February 1990. Later, I'll go look through our albums and see if I can find a date.

My husband was the only one thin enough to get into his letter sweater

2416 Ten simple pleasures

Amy at Sparrow's Flight has tagged me for 10 Simple Pleasures Meme. I don't think I can find 10 who haven't done this, so considered yourself tagged.

"Name ten of life's simple pleasures that you like most, then pick ten people to do the same. Try to be original and creative and not to use things that someone else has already used."

When it comes to life's simple pleasures, there will obviously be repeats--after all, the key is "simple." Mine are the 5 tangibles and the 5 intangibles.

1. Family. As you start losing them, or live far away, they become more important. Did anyone else discover how smart your parents became when you went away to college or you left home for that first apartment? That feeling snowballs as you age. You go through your kids' teen years and wonder if your Mom felt what you do--or were you ever like that? Then humbly you realize, yup, Mom was a saint to put up with me, and you Thank God for the simple pleasure of a family--past, present and future. The social, emotional and spiritual safety net that no government program can replace. Roots and wings. It's so simple.

2. Church. Simple perhaps isn't the word that usually comes to mind--at least not if you are a Protestant. I even grew up among Christians who believed in the simple life that would please God. They've had so many squabbles on how to be simple--head coverings, hair, buttons, zippers, media, polity, government--that except for genealogy meetings, they don't often pray under the same roof and keep reforming and renaming themselves. And Lutherans, my adopted denomination, aren't any different. Synod this and consortium that. But the concept is simple. Love one another. Both the local church and the church triumphant. And we'll simply laugh when we see who's in heaven, won't we?

3. Education. Again, it wasn't so simple to get one, but the concept is. Educate a child to the best of her ability and she'll have something you can never take away. And I'm public education all the way through, from kindergarten in Alameda, CA to Master's at the University of Illinois. I simply thank all those tax payers who gave up and put out for me. I hope I'll always live up to this simple concept.

4. Friendships. It's so simple, really. Love isn't love until you give it away. You get back more than you give. There's always room for one more, but three or four really good close friends in a lifetime is probably a good total.

5. Time. I've said it many, many times on this blog. All the verbs we use with money we use with time. I'm a millionaire in the sense of time and yet I have exactly the same amount of time as you do. Being busy is a fetish. It's a hobby. Occasionally it's a necessity, but we've all been given the same storehouse of time.

6. Beauty. I looked out over the grounds today at the creek and trees and greening springtime growth and just could hardly take in the beauty. A robin came within 5 ft. and perched on the deck railing. His eyes were looking out for danger and something to consume. I wonder if he saw the beauty?

7. Imagination. What would we do without this simple pleasure? This is a pleasure that really grows as I look through all the wonderful hobby and craft projects in blogland.

8. Individuality. How did God think all this up? Each snowflake. Each bird feather. Each baby in the womb waiting to be welcomed, and not a fingerprint the same as anyone else born since the beginning of creation.

9. Faith. Simple--for me, but not everyone. It's a gift. Just open your hand and receive. If you demand or earn it, chances are it's not the simple gift you've desired.

10. Hope. May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit. Romans 15:13.

2415 Dear President Bush

I'm headed to Mexico. . . this is going around via e-mail without any attribution, so I checked Google, and came up with David M. Bresnahan on April 1 as the author. It's a list of 13 things a traveler from the U.S. into Mexico without a visa or passport wants--like classes for his kids in English, all government forms printed in English, police officers who speak English. Pretty cute. He closes with, " know this is an easy request because you already do all these things for all the people who come to the U.S. from Mexico. I am sure that Pres. Fox won't mind returning the favor if you ask him nicely. However, if he gives you any trouble, just invite him to go quail hunting with your V.P."

So many leaks, so little time

CIA Leak Primer here, and
Patterico
Jeff Goldstein,
Ace,
Michelle Malkin,
Flopping Aces,
Tom Maguire,
Andrew McCarthy,
and Rick Moran
Byron York,
and her friend says this and
Captain Ed says" "Juan Williams attempted to defend her on Fox News yesterday evening as a principled dissenter, but that's hogwash. A principled dissenter would have gone through available channels, such as to the FBI, to Congress, or to the White House, to express her discontent on an issue. Failing that, she would have resigned and spoken openly about what she knew. McCarthy took none of those actions. Instead, she violated her confidentiality agreements, broke the law, and attempted to leak what she knew -- and only what suited her -- to the media. She wanted to keep her job rather than her honor."


In from the cold writes: "You'll note that many media accounts describe the leaker as an "analyst," suggesting that she was, at best, a mid-level staffer. That was hardly the case; few analysts make the jump from a regional desk at Langley to the White House. A "National Intelligence Officer" is the equivalent of a four-star general in the military, or a cardinal in the Catholic Church. There are only a handful of NIOs in the intelligence community; they are in charge of intelligence community efforts in a particular area. As a senior officer for Warning, Ms. McCarthy was tasked, essentially, with preventing future Pearl Harbors. Observers will note that McCarthy's tenure in that role coincided with early strikes by Islamofacists against the United States, including the first World Trade Center bombing, and the Khobar Towers attack. It could be argued that Ms. McCarthy's performance in the warning directorate was mediocre, at best--but it clearly didn't affect her rise in a Democratic Administration.

Equally interesting is her meteoric rise within the intelligence community. According to her bio, she joined the CIA as an analyst in 1984. Within seven years, she had rise to a Deputy NIO position, and reached full NIO status by 1994. To reach that level, she literally catapulted over dozens of more senior officers--and I'm guessing that her political connections didn't hurt. By comparison, I know a current NIO, with a resume and academic credentials more impressive than Ms. McCarthy's, who reached the position after more than 20 years of extraordinarily distinguished service. McCarthy's rapid advancement speaks volumes about how the Clinton Administration did business, and sheds new light on the intelligence failures that set the stage for 9-11. We can only wonder how many other political hacks climbed the intel food chain under Clinton--and remain in place to this day." And then follows this up with other interesting posts.

Whatever. Americans will only be worrying about the price of gasoline.

Update: Here's the problem: "McCarthy has a B.A. and M.A. in history from Michigan State University, an M.A. in library science from the University of Minnesota, and a Ph.D. in history from the University of Minnesota. . ." her bio at CSIS (no longer listed)

2413 Sad news

You may recall our excitement in December when little Abby joined the family--a Chihuahua puppy. A month ago her lab tests in preparation for being spayed showed a liver problem, so surgery was postponed. The tests were rerun and today the vet called and said he is quite sure it is canine portal liver shunt disease. Our daughter and husband are devastated. She manages a medical practice and lab work that would mean nothing to me is quite clear to her. It had taken well over a year for them to even consider another dog after the death of their other dog. Like many their age who have no children, the pet is the child. And their other dog had almost a decade of expensive medical problems (heart). The prognosis for this kind of surgery is good, and the death is horrible if nothing is done. So if you have room on your prayer list tonight, whisper one for a broken hearted family and healing for a teeny tiny liver.

2412 Are you spoiled?

This meme is a little different. If you score more than 40, you are. I think this was planned for someone much younger. If you don't have a walk-in closet or good credit or a stock portfolio by the time you're my age, you may not be spoiled--but you just might be a poor planner. Tollef fog Heen

Even so, I scored 24.

Monday Memories

Did I ever tell you about the end of my childhood?

My 11th birthday was in the fall of 1950. During the summer of 1950 the curtain was slowly coming down on my childhood, but I didn't know it until much later. In fact, I was reminded of it last week when our writing group prompt was the comic strip Agnes who is supposed to be about 11 years old, lives with her grandmother and is always pondering life's difficult questions.

It was my last summer to ride a bike with my brother on the country roads and catch tadpoles to take home; the last summer to swing from vines in the dense woods on the road west of town; the last summer to visit our friends who had moved to Baileyville where you could still get a nickel ice cream cone; it was the summer I rode in the livestock truck with Charlie and Raymond; it was the last summer I would walk to the town baseball field in the evenings, sit up on the score board and run around being silly; it was the last fall I would build leaf castles in our front yard with my friends JoElla and Nancy; the last time I would play with dolls.

I started 6th grade in Miss Michael's fifth/sixth grade class in Forreston, IL in September in a building with grades one through twelve. On Sundays we worshipped at a small Lutheran Church in Forreston, although we weren't members, and my sisters attended their confirmation classes. We all sang in the choirs and my oldest sister took organ lessons there. On Sunday afternoons we would all get in the 1950 Chevrolet sedan and drive either to Mt. Morris to see my father's parents, or to a farm near Franklin Grove to visit my mother's parents. My parents would visit with my aunts and uncles and grandparents while we cousins would either walk to the Lamb Theater in Mt. Morris to see a B cowboy movie, or down the country lane into Franklin Grove.

In March 1951 my family moved back to Mt. Morris from which we had moved in 1946, and I finished 6th grade in a different school with a new teacher, new friends and a different church (where I had been baptized). I learned new slang, how to cope with cliques, and discovered the girls were gossiping about things I’d never heard of.

I'm in the front row right in this sixth grade class photo. I have a rather grown-up hair style and two piece dress and was probably close to my adult height and weight. There would still be time for child-like activities, but those times would be less and less Looking back, I think childhood was over during my 12th year, and like Agnes, I did start seeing things differently.

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Mount Morris, Illinois
Forreston, Illinois
childhood

2410 Gas Prices

Friday night we went out for dinner--we always have a date night, and since I've been married over 45 years, you might want to tuck that away as a suggestion. The van was rolling on fumes, so I checked the web site to see where gas was cheapest, and at our corner it was $2.89 and across the river $2.69. For 15 gallons it looked like it might be worth it. After our $30.00 evening out at the pub and $5 at Cheryl's Cookies for dessert, we started for Mill Run. But it was barely after 6 p.m. and we hit all the traffic returning to the far out suburbs. Believe me, Columbus has nothing like Chicago, LA or DC, but we're spoiled. We pout if we sit a bit in traffic. So after sitting for 5 minutes through 3 stop lights, he pulled into a Speedway and got gas for $2.79.

So we saved $1.50 by not buying it on the way to the restaurant, and spent $1.50 more than if we'd added 10 minutes to our evening, sat on the bridge for awhile watching the ducks and got it for $2.69. Isn't that silly?

Last October on our trip to Illinois we were thrilled to find $2.89. Want money for gas? Buy one less carton of cigarettes a week--that'll fill up my tank. Stop at Speedway for your coffee instead of Starbucks. In a week, you'll more than make up the gas increase. Buy a medium pizza instead of a large, and eats some carrot sticks. Buy one six pack of beer instead of three--we'll all be safer if you plan to drive. Don't down load any tunes (.99 each) for a month and listen to the thousand you already have. Don't go to any first run movies for a month--hit the dollar theaters for what you missed 6 weeks ago. Or go to the library and get some free DVDs and make the popcorn at home. That'll be $15 for the tank right there.

Invite a neighbor on your next shopping trip or drive to work. Drive the speed limit and inflate your tires. Don't hop scotch around on the freeway--pretend you're fifty instead of 25, because you all end up at the light at the same time.

And if you are a Greenie, accept the credit and take a bow for these prices. You've kept the oil refineries from being built. You've stopped the drilling for oil on American soil. You've halted a lot of industry in the USA so we could have cleaner air, chasing people out of the cities where they had public transportation. People are reducing their driving because of you, especially poor people driving older, less fuel efficient cars. Be proud and puffed up when you hear your co-workers bitching. Smile. It's all your fault.

2409 For Family Only

The rest of you won't care about this photo, but I'm just thrilled to have it. So just move along--if you don't like sappy and sentimental.


When I opened the envelope tears came to my eyes. I had seen this photo flash by in a DVD made by my second cousin (we have the same great-grand parents). I contacted her aunt to find out who they were. She wasn't sure, but said she'd find out. And then the photo arrived with a note from my cousin. This is the wedding photo of my grandmother's grandparents of Jefferson County, TN, James and Mary Ann Elizabeth Williford. It looks like it's been through some hard times--that it had been folded, and chipped, and maybe a cup or something placed on it. I don't know its provenance. Only one granddaughter of this couple is still living, the sister of my grandmother--she's 91 and I visited her last year. She probably has a copy of this, or this is a copy of hers. There are so many things I don't know about this couple that I'd like to ask.

So I go into my genealogy software and look them up. I found out quite a bit about this family on the internet some years ago because in Tennessee during the Depression there was an attempt to record family information from old Bibles, and that has since been put on the internet by county. James and Mary Ann Elizabeth had nine children. Leanor, my great-grandmother, was only 10 years old when her father, the handsome young bridegroom of this photo, died. I knew her. Used to run down the street and sit on her front porch swing and listen to her soft Southern drawl and gentle laugh. By then she'd probably buried those hurts of 60 years before. Why would she have even mentioned such a sadness to a little five year old whose own daddy was off in a war? How did such a large family survive with only a woman to head the household? James' father was over 50 years old when he was born, so how much help could they have been if still alive? Even my grandmother, Bessie, born in 1895, didn't know this couple. They had both died before she was born. For many years Grandma Bessie was our family archive--her phenomenal memory could retrieve the stories with ease. After her death, we'd ask my father. When he died it was like the library had been burned, and my paltry software is no match for the stories he heard from his parents and grandparents and at the Tennessee Reunions that were held in northern Illinois for many years.

However, we don't know what we don't know do we? So we don't ask.

2408 An Easter Walk

Cathy invited me along on an Easter Walk, 50 miles in 50 days. I don't have a pedometer, so I'm just clocking along at a mile for every 30 minutes. The park was really busy today--not only have the spring sports started, but Ohioans are so anxious for nice weather (probably less than 40% sunshine all year), that they tend to all rush outdoors at once.

Front row for Grandparents

Game's over; going home for lunch

He's just walking his dog

11 miles since Easter Sunday.

2407 Saving on blogger gas

To save you guys some gas, I'm going to combine several themes or thoughts into one blog entry instead of making them separate. OK? It will improve your mileage and save you money here. I've moved the gasoline prices to Sunday--just because I could.

Church stuff

We're having our SALT group here tomorrow evening. SALT is an acronym that someone with 70s angst thought up: Sharing and Living Together. I much prefer Serving and Learning Together because that's what we do. We have 3 campuses and 12 services (or is it eleven?), so if you don't participate in a small group you can become just a pew sitter. I think someone told me there are 144 ministries. Anyway. Back to SALT (no one took my suggestion, and at this point, staff has changed so often, I wouldn't even know to whom to re-suggest it, since no one but me is bothered by an inaccurate acronym). I've asked everyone to bring a favorite poem, verse, rhyme or limerick since April is National Poetry Month. I don't like to lead Bible studies, so my husband will do that part--I'll just do the warm up.

Dessert

I have a strawberry rhubarb pie in the oven, and the other one will be the peanut butter chocolate one I wrote about a few months back. My husband thinks I'm also making an apple pie (his favorite), but I sliced my thumb a little bit on the rhubarb, so I think I'll quit while I'm ahead. When he walked in while I was preparing the first one (never made it before), he asked why I would make something I never tried for company. Guys just don't get it, do they ladies? We all know that if you make something new, and there's just 2 of you to eat it, and one of you doesn't like it and pushes it around on the plate like it was brussel sprouts, then the other of you has to finish the whole thing! Right? But the second reason here is that even my bad pies are better than 90% of the good pies of everyone else. So there.

Update on my Exercise 13

I'm doing pretty good. I never set goals--hate goals, but promises aren't so bad. So I promised myself 30 minutes a day of exercise. I'm up to 50-60 minutes, but I'm not changing my promise because I'd rather go over than under. The weather has cooperated, so I'm getting about 30 minutes at the park, then later in the day, another 20-30 on the grounds. I'm walking in the grass and on hills when I can so my shins don't ache. I am consciously taking the stairs more often and parking further from stores. The sit-up plan, well, that didn't go so well. I'm finding more excuses not to do that.

New neighbors

New neighbors moved in this week. They just moved from across the ravine, but they are terrifically nice folks, so we're thrilled to have them. They are also Lakesiders, and my husband did their cottage for them. I saw their dog (with its owner) meeting another neighbor's dog this morning. Sniffing. Deciding who was going to be boss. If a dog has a blue ribbon in its hair is it a boy dog?

Another condo for sale just recently has also sold, I hear, to a single person. It has a dance studio in the lower level because the former owners were ballroom dancers. Our newish neighbors who moved in last year have added a hot tub. I guess they use it late at night, but so far I haven't heard anything.

Everyone says it's so hard to find a place here, but we've been here 4 years, and I think there have been 6 turnovers since we arrived. Out of 30 units, I'd say that's higher than our old neighborhood.

Mozart's Birthday

Our choir will be performing Mozart's Requiem, but since it was planned for Memorial Day week-end, I hadn't been practicing with them. Now the director might change the date because it conflicts with a wedding. As a result, I have a huge dilemma. I'm a really weak singer anyway, so do I try to catch up or mumble something that might pass as a lie? Actually, I don't like to perform in front of people--never have. I came down with Scarlet Fever just so I wouldn't have to be in a piano recital. I was in the junior class play in high school and hated being on stage and didn't try out for senior class play the next year. Our choir sings in a loft behind the congregation, so I've only been in front once, but it really increased my errors.

Check your mileage

See how many blog entries you can read here with only one stop for gas? And if you check my profile, you'll see that I have five more. Now Six, because I joined some Walkers.

2406 Leaving children unattended

Don't. Not for a minute. Even $5 million isn't worth it.

I really hope Chrysler wins on appeal. The child is left in the van, keys in the ignition so the guy washing the car could hear the radio, parked on a hill, emergency brake not set, mother not close by, and the child does what any kid would do who wants to "play driving" and puts it in gear. A device, not required in models of that year, might have been able to keep the van from rolling, but how do you protect children from adults who don't think?

2405 A Goldendoodle, a Dood, or a Golden-Poo

While walking in the park I've seen a man walking a large, cream colored dog, sort of fluffy. I used to keep breed posters of cats, horses and dogs posted on the bulletin board of the Vet Library, but I didn't recognize this one. So today I stopped and asked him the breed. "Not a breed, but a mix (hybrid) of a standard Poodle and a Golden." We chatted for awhile and he said they don't shed, and his was very good with his eight grandchildren. Apparently, Goldendoodles are good conversationalists, because when I got back to my car, the man was sitting on the curb smoking while talking to his blond friend: "Want some more water? How about some ice in that?" "Ready to go home? OK. Get in the car." Don't argue; don't try to run your life; great hair. Can't beat that, can you?

Update: Actually, I did blog about this in October--I'd never actually seen one. In this article it is called a Labradoodle, and is a lab poodle mix.

2404 Morning walk in the blossoms

My view as I step out the front door.



We love it here. The grounds are lovely; the neighbors are nice; and there's always someone around who knows how to keep things growing! It was dark when I left this morning and the spotlights were on the flowering crabs. The blossoms looked like dangling jewels. There are always birds and ducks, little critters, and big deer to watch. We never tire of looking out the window or walking around.









Our daughter drove down the street where we lived for 34 years the other evening on her way home from work. She called on her cell phone to report the new-new owners had a huge crop of dandelions in the front yard. She could hardly believe that her father who used to attack them every Spring would just say, "Oh really? Do you want to talk to Mom?" and hand the phone to me.

2403 The Fashion Police

Another sketch from Panera's.

2402 Are you this desperate?

On Feb. 28 I said I was taking applications for a daughter-in-law. I don't know a woman (or man) in the world who would desperate enough to take this guy off his mama's hands. Cranky Beach has definitely found a first class jerk.

Thursday Thirteen

Thirteen things I know with absolute certainty

Have you noticed a shift to the phrase "I feel" when "I believe" or I think" or "I know" would sound too . . . dogmatic or pushy? Particularly women use this term. We all have opinions and beliefs, so why toss a perfectly good verb into the closet? Feelings are sweet, soft, and warm or loud and hurtful, and life would be boring without them, but for the long haul, give me a solid unshakable foundation any day. Your mileage will vary, but there are 13 things in my life I know.

1) I know with all my being and intelligence that I am special and unique because I was created in the image of God and am not a product from the slimy ooze 50 million years ago through endless cycles of trial, error and death.

2) I know God knew me personally as I was being formed cell and sinew in my mother's womb.

3) I even know when my own life began.

4) I also know when my present life on earth ends that I will be in heaven. In God's economy, nothing is wasted, including our experiences and pain. I will some day have a different kind of body, a resurrected, perfect physical body with a personality.

5) I know I was blessed to have two parents, married to each other for over 65 years, who loved me and made me feel secure even as an adult. I had a father who was always employed and a mother who was able to stay home with her children.

6) I know my parents also blessed me with two sisters and a brother, all wonderful people and friends, and a large extended family.

7) I know my parents loved me enough to mold my spiritual life and values and my formal education, seeing to it that this foundation was not left to chance, the government or to my own choices.

8) I know I am loved and cared for by a man who wanted to marry me and establish a home and a life together over 45 years ago.

9) I know that all my children are a blessing from God, chosen by him from the beginning of time to be in this family.

10) I know that having my adult children live in the same city as we do is a blessing few enjoy.

11) I know that friendship is a treasure and that old friends, some from childhood and many from years past, and new friends of just a few months duration are a blessing.

12) I know that good genes and good habits (examples from my parents) have provided me with good health, and I know I took this for granted when I was younger.

13) There's a well known radio commentator who claims to have "talent on loan from God," and I know this is true for all of us and loans must be paid back.

Christmas 1979

Christmas 25 years later


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2400 Harriet Coleridge

"The truth, if we're honest, is that the poems of Harriet Coleridge (if there were such a person) would by now be an unforgivable omission in every anthology."

Ouch! Now there's a slam at required women's studies courses if I've ever read one. There was a short article on the less than stunning career of Hartley Coleridge (1796-1849), son of the famous poet Samuel Taylor Coleridge, in the March 2006 issue of Poetry. He writes about being forever a child and unfulfilled promise. The writer of the article mentions he could have been a great poet if he had taken more than 10 minutes and if he could have forgotten whose son he was.

TO A CAT

by: Hartley Coleridge (1796-1849)

NELLY, methinks, 'twixt thee and me
There is a kind of sympathy;
And could we interchange our nature, --
If I were cat, thou human creature, --
I should, like thee, be no great mouser,
And thou, like me, no great composer;
For, like thy plaintive mews, my muse
With villainous whine doth fate abuse,
Because it hath not made me sleek
As golden down on Cupid's cheek;
And yet thou canst upon the rug lie,
Stretch'd out like snail, or curl'd up snugly,
As if thou wert not lean or ugly;
And I, who in poetic flights
Sometimes complain of sleepless nights,
Regardless of the sun in heaven,
Am apt to doze till past eleven, --
The world would just the same go round
If I were hang'd and thou wert drown'd;
There is one difference, 'tis true, --
Thou dost not know it, and I do.
Source

Hartley Coleridge
>Cat poetry

2399 The charges have been dropped

against an Ohio State University (Mansfield) librarian Scott Savage for sexual harassment because some gays didn't like the books he suggested for a recommended Freshman reading list designed to discuss issues. They might be afraid for a gay student to ask for help at the library reference desk. Yikes. I wish I had a dollar for every time librarians had to use material that violated their beliefs or that students had to sit in class and listen to something that stepped on their sensitivities! Story here at Inside Higher Ed.

Even so, these kinds of trivial, bizarre, frivolous charges have to have a chilling affect on academic freedom. Professors already can be shunned by colleagues, cut from grant proposals and denied staff help if they don't toe the political line of their department or college. Tenure doesn't do you much good if you get reassigned to all the freshman courses. The faculty at Mansfield should have put a stop to these whiners before it ever became national news. It's brought shame on that whole campus. And where was American Library Association? I'll have to check the 2 or 3 conservative library blogs to see if anyone responded. Even the account of the law suit in the above cited piece sounds hostile.

One of his suggestions was Freakonomics. But the one that hit the fan was The Marketing of Evil: How Radicals, Elitists, and Pseudo-Experts Sell Us Corruption Disguised as Freedom, by David Kupelian. The account at Inside Higher Ed doesn't list the titles other faculty suggested, except for a Jimmy Carter book (probably his current anti-administration pout) and Maria Shriver. It would be interesting to see what Savage was trying to balance or if any of the faculty that supported the charges had even read the book. Although the University has dropped the investigation, Savage wasn't notified, according to this WorldNetDaily article.

The university will respond by offering more workshops in being sensitive. "We will be taking a number of steps to help create a more welcoming atmosphere on the Mansfield campus by offering additional training for faculty and staff. We also will work to reinforce a better understanding of the principles of academic rights and responsibilities, and to ensure the respect for diversity of all kinds." It's quite possible that the current faculty have never heard of the principles of academic rights and responsibilities, so maybe it's for the best.

sexual harassment
librarians
Ohio State University
David Kupelian