In recent years, I have decided to complain when I don't get treated right. By this I don't mean that I whine and make a scene when I have to wait a long time on line in a store, or anything like that. I mean when customer service is really bad at a company, or I am treated very rudely by a store's or a bank's representative, I do something about it. The growing use of email has made it a lot easier to be heard soon after the event, before the memory dims.

Most recently I had to complain about the way a teller in my credit union treated me while I was depositing a check. Her behavior was so awful, I thought I would have to crawl out of the branch. My emailed note did get results, a phone call from the manager, a conference for the employee, and a refund of some fees that were unrelated to the incident. So today I wrote to Organic Gardening magazine - great read, but atrocious customer service practices - and McGraw Hill, the company that published a book I use in my class. The McGraw Hill letter was sparked by a segment yesterday on CNN, profiling the CEO and how great he is, how the future of the company is in the education division, just like the CEO's grandpa's vision or something along those lines. I almost couldn't stop laughing! For months I have been trying to pry loose PBS's "Only A Teacher," because the company claims that I am entitled to a complimentary copy to show my class as a result of using the book I have been requiring for several semesters. Now the fall semester is ticking away, and I continue to just get referred, or more often no answer at all to my numerous requests, and still no video.

Organic Gardening has been sending me dunning notices, and has suspended my subscription, despite having my credit card on file. As a last resort I paid by check last month, and still the notices arrive, but no magazine. This is not the first time I have had problems with my subscription. They send the magazine wrapped in plastic - a practice that strikes me as strange, if not downright contradictory. When I contacted them about it, I was told the only way to avoid the unnecessary packaging was to automatically renew via credit card. I have no clue why this would be policy, but I agreed.

Then late last summer, suddenly and without warning, a spin-off, Organic Style, was in my mailbox instead of Organic Gardening. At first I thought it was a complimentary issue, trying to get subscribers to order the new publication. The letter that was attached was unclear. Then, when no issue of Organic Gardening arrived, I contacted them and was told that it was not complimentary - I had been switched to Organic Style. I asked what about me made them think I would want to be switched? No answer was offered. I asked why would they do such a thing without asking first? Again, no answer; the customer service rep was not exactly rude, but not really courteous either. I said I wished to be switched back, as I found Organic Style distasteful. I am a subscriber because I like to garden organically, not because I want to read profiles of snobby celebrities and how they prepare ritzy organic meals using stuff they buy at urban markets, or look at silly ads for trendy hemp clothes. (I was told I would not miss an issue of Organic Gardening because of the switch - but this wound up not being true, although I didn't bother to complain.)

So now the latest problem, no magazine, many threatening cancellation notices - and I am not at all sure my subscription had ever expired! I may have paid twice. I do like the magazine, but they are a very, very difficult company with which to do business. Stay tuned.

Happy Birthday to me! And yesterday was Rudy's 7th birthday. I can't believe that Howie died seven years ago, or that it is nearly seven years since we brought "Mister Wuja" home from the pound.

Not a lot of time for making posts - teaching is keeping me hopping - so I revert to my original goal of making one journal entry per week. I should be able to manage that.

Tuesday Too

1.) Are you willing to remain silent on something you strongly believe in, in order to avoid confrontation with your friends or family. Why would you, or wouldn't you do this?

Well - I guess that depends on the issue. I do avoid certain subjects, depending on the "audience." With my students, I am careful, because it isn't fair to show too much bias, and to abuse my position. With everyone (friends, family, colleagues, acquaintances), and in this journal, mostly I am careful, and I don't ask or offer opinions about some things. I don't wish to hurt people's feelings, to have my views be easily labeled, or to incite controversy. I also don't display bumper stickers. I think it is silly to be judged by, or to judge others, based on political views. On the other hand, occasionally I will write a personal essay on a topic that really has sparked me, and there are some absolute rights and wrongs - for example, unethical or cruel behavior, or in some instances when my opinion has been directly solicited - where I may choose to intervene or respond.

2.) Do you think trust is necessary for a "real relationship?" Do you trust easily? Do you find your faith in others is usually justified, or have you been betrayed one too many times?

Yes, except in rare instances, I do have faith in others.

3.) Have you bought something on ebay, or another auction site? Tell us about your experience. Was it positive or negative? What did you get? Would you do it again?

Yes - among other things, I have purchased collectables on ebay (including the Peanuts pinbacks at my Virtual Museum), carnival glass, and most recently, a violin. I have never had a negative experience, and I would certainly do it again.

Today, I hung my flag, spent some time listening to the memorial services, observed the moments of silence, and went outside to hear the church bells. Yesterday morning I visited the new World Trade Center exhibit at the New York State museum. There are actually three separate exhibits that commemorate 9/11. There is a collection of pictures by Magnum Photographers that I had seen before, since they were published in a book last year. They are in color, but many appear black and white. Hanging on the wall is a large white sheet that has been fashioned into a flag, its red stripes and white stars on a blue background all created with paint hand prints, signatures and messages everywhere.

There is a permanent exhibit, cobbled together from a piece of the New York City floor space combined with a piece of what once was the gift shop. There are objects, pictures, videos, and the typical museum interpretation. The centerpiece is a badly damaged fire truck, and some tattered mementos of the lost police and firefighters. Although this area contains several large objects, in addition to Engine 6, including a piece of the steel exterior support structure, a sphere that once graced an antenna at the top of one tower, several segments of chain link fence covered with ribbons, flyers, flags and flowers, and the doors to a Salvation Army canteen for rescue workers, sprinkled around are ordinary symbols of office life that were sifted from the Freshkills Landfill: a mangled computer motherboard, half a handset of a telephone, a set of melted-together diskettes, a charred and twisted sign that directed employees to the exit. Striking is that most are remnants; shards of broken glass and small hunks of bent metal, mere fragments of a place that was gigantic.

Upstairs, there is a new gallery, complete with café, that has been built in an area of the building that not long ago was nearly empty. Each section showcases an exhibit that appears in the main part of the museum. The World Trade Center piece of this space contains an artistic image of the two towers, with each square representing a victim.

I can't say that the collective exhibits captured the magnitude of that day. Maybe nothing can. As I left the new gallery, I passed the teaser for a new exhibit on carnivals. It is a restored, and fully functional, carousel, manufactured in 1895, and retired in 1971. Taken by surprise, I paused to watch a handful of people ride the splendid wooden horses, "God Bless America" playing in tones reminiscent of a summer ice cream vendor's truck. I blinked back tears. Then again, I can't say that the collective exhibits failed to capture the magnitude of that day. The photographs, the objects, the interpretation. And innocense.

Last night, I voted in a primary, for the first time. I always vote in the general November election, and also in our local election (for our village, that's March), but only recently I discovered that I am a member of the Independence Party, rather than being my usual "NE." It was a confusing process, because two districts were assigned to my usual polling place, but there were separate records, and separate machines. Then, it seemed a multitude of parties were holding primaries, and a number of books had to be checked. The difficulty of spelling my name doesn't help. Whenever I start, "G-I-U...," the person automatically flips to "J." Correcting that, they invariably try to find "G-U..." Ever since Rudy Giuliani was mayor of New York City, I find that people can finally pronounce my name (though they change my final "o" to his "i"), but they still can't spell it. But I understand that Florida is brewing another nightmare, and so I refuse to fault the good folks in Castleton.

Speaking of the former mayor, I have done some thinking on the subject, and although a year ago I believed lower Manhattan should be rebuilt into offices, now I agree with him and the victims' families, in thinking that the entire 16 acre site that once was the World Trade Center should be a memorial park. To do otherwise would be like paving a cemetery, or allowing Disney to construct a theme park at Manassas. I often lament that what I perceived as minimal digs were done near the Hudson River in Albany when new buildings and parking garages went up, covering a wealth of Dutch artifacts. As Ma said recently, there will always be a need for office space, and the 16 acres won't make a bit of difference. So make something green there, and I don't mean money.

I will close this entry with some links and a photo; a year ago I wrote this story about Sirius, the only dog to die in the attacks. It is also posted here, at the Port Authority memorial site. Here is another lovely tribute to Sirius, and another. Finally, a puppy that will be a future guide dog has been named in his honor. The snapshot below was taken on my 36th birthday, September 18, 1997, when Bob, my sister, Daddy and I visited the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island.

Back to work Monday and I am forcing myself to stay focused because I have a lot of work to do. I'm assuming it will be easier to manage as the semester progresses. I did do a little work over the weekend, not a lot or as much as I hoped. But sunny temperatures lured me out to swim, and since the pool will be closed soon - some people have closed theirs already - how could I resist?

My sister, her poodle Ginger, my mother and I visited St. Ann's cemetery in Sawkill on Sunday. This is where my grandmother's maternal grandparents are buried, as well as her brother and sister who died as babies. My sister is going to Ireland in November, and these GG grandparents (that's genealogical researcher shorthand :-) were immigrants. The setting is a lovely hillside, and the graveyard is not big. Probably 90% or more of the folks resting there were Irish, with a sprinkling of Italian and Polish people. The church is closed, although it is maintained, and special services are occasionally held there.

We were disappointed, though, because we could not find any stones or markers with the name Donnelly. Perhaps that says something even more poignant about Mimmie's relatives. In my mind's eye I see wooden crosses marking their graves, now erased by time and the elements. But Mimmie's notebook documents that they existed. The three of us, in our quest on Sunday, document that they existed. I think I am going to try to find out more information from the diocese.

Aside from having my second class, tommorow is significant because I found out that I can vote in a primary. It will be tight, as my class is held in the evening, and the polls are not open in the morning, but I'll do my best to get there before 9. I have always been "NE" (election shorthand for not enrolled in a political party) because I did not feel that any of the parties reflected my views and I refused to be labeled; the downside of this is that it means no primaries or caucuses. But this year, I have been getting a ton of mail related to the Independence Party. My recycle bin is overflowing! So I called the Board of Elections and asked, and they told me that I was indeed registered in that party.

The only thing I can figure is that in 2000, I voted absentee, and went to the election board to fill out the ballot. Although I can't remember, it is possible that I enrolled at that time. I'm not sure if I will stay enrolled - because I perceive myself as independent, not necessarily the same as the Independence Party - but I sure do plan to use my vote tomorrow.

On a somber note, I am going to visit the 9/11 exhibit at the New York State museum tomorrow morning before heading to campus. So it will be a day of reflection, teaching, and voting. And that reminds me, I am going to replace my flower-themed flag with the American flag right now.

I probably will start a private journal that details the teaching experience of this semester, because my guess is that it is best to not have enrolled students stumble here and maybe be offended if I have not been careful enough. The responsibility is enormous! But on occasion I might post something here. So here goes.

The first night went OK, I guess. I was not nervous once I got started - I had 31 students in class (at the moment there are 39 in the online one, but I expect some to drop). I think I am a weird combination of organized and scattered in the classroom. It was interesting to be a part of the "real" world again; to remember that it is hard to accomplish as much in a block of time as in the same time at home; even getting lunch takes forever.

As an evening class, there is some diversity, although I think less than the usual online mix (although there it is hard to determine, and that is one nice aspect of the online environment). There are 2 or 3 graduate students in the class, and one or two undergraduates who are my age or older. Quite a few have attended a community college before transferring to the university. I learned a few things already - all have to do with participation - students do not speak up at all and so this is probably why some professors just randomly call on students. I always thought it was because hardly anyone did the reading, but it may be that people are just reluctant to volunteer, not glib, and inhibited, since the things I asked last night had nothing to do with knowing anything about the course (like, who is planning to be a teacher? A bunch of blank stares in response).

I am used to self-disciplined students in the online world, and this adjustment will take some doing on my part. I learned that some are disrespectful of each other - at the end of class, I had them go around the class and say their name, their major, why they took the class, and if they had a mentor or role model from school or college - and although the students sat attentively through everything I said, during the course of this go around ten students got up (mostly young men, and a couple of young women, but then the females outnumber the males in class by quite a lot), before it was their turn, and left. That's 1/3 of class! It is not like it was even close to being near the end of class. As a result, I took attendance at the end. I dislike being so heavy handed and juvenile, and I know it is a turn off for the majority of serious folks in the class. So, today, I sent an email message to all, summarizing what happened last night, and letting them know that I expect them to be courteous and respectful to their peers. I would so much rather be a facilitator in a group of learners, than a nasty school marm with a ruler. But I will muddle through I suppose.

Not a lot of activity in the online section yet. I will have to start prodding there, soon. I can de-register students who do not "appear" by next week, and for the first time, I think I am going to pursue that option, as it will be especially hard for me to manage such a large group this semester, and that will be worsened if some fall behind.

Tuesday Too # 28

1.) What, is it Tuesday again?

My thoughts exactly...except that I am doing this on Wednesday!

2.) Now here's a real question for you. What is the most important/significant thing that you have on your plate today? And no I don't mean spinach or potatoes; I mean nuts and bolts.

Answering for yesterday - the first class of the semester! One down, fourteen more to go. Going from virtual to virtual plus reality - well, there's a lot to digest.

3.) Ask me anything you'd like to know, and I just might tell you, or I might not.

Any updates on the time table for posting more of your thesis? (Can you tell I'm in academic mode?)

4.) Is the Tuesday Too person losing her mind?

Oh, I seriously doubt it.

5.) Is this the end of the Tuesday Too?

We must be on the same wave length or something...since I will be on campus on Tuesdays, and also have taken quite a lot on my plate this semester - 70 students between the two classes, and some administrative duties - well, I have my doubts that I will be able to get to the TT before Wednesdays, and maybe not then. We'll see.

Tuesday Too # 27

1.) Are you dreaming now? How do you know you are, or how do you know you're not?

No, because I am too aware of deadlines, my to do list, and time to be dreaming. I rarely - or never remember anyway - dream about working at my computer in my office.

2.) What's going on that really makes your life a source of wonderment?

At the moment, something very small, that to me is profound - the colander full of fresh organic produce that I harvest every day.

3.) Why do you think you're here, and where is "here" anyway?

Here is a lovely place we call upstate New York, in the year we label 2002. Why am I here? Because this general region has always been my home, because my ancestors settled here, a few were already here, my immediate and much of my extended family stayed here, and I chose not to stray too far away. I think the "big picture" reason is a learning process that unfolds throughout one's life...is it ever definitively answered, for anyone or everyone? Yes. No. Maybe. Ask me again sometime.

I have to make this snappy because there's much to do before we head for Samsonville. I was interrupted with a phone call this afternoon, as I worked on my class. I'm not a phone person, and in fact during non-business hours I rarely answer it, and I almost never check the answering machine. It was something of a shock, and a difficult call, from a troubled (ex?) friend. If I knew who was calling, I probably would not have picked up. I do have caller ID, but the box needs batteries (there's a lesson there somewhere). I have already written several fiction pieces based on this relationship; it might make a book, but then it might be too likely to hurt. But I will write a bit more about all of this here, later.

It's 70 degrees today and that almost seems cold. I had a grilled cheese and tomato for lunch; if fresh tomatoes aren't one of the best things about August, then whether the sky is blue is also debatable. I am getting ready for the semester. I am taking the opposite approach from what is the norm; I am transforming an online course into an on-campus one. It's an interesting, creative process.

Whipped up a dinner of roasted corn, cucumber salad, grilled zucchini, and I picked my first tomato today. It is very late for the tomatoes to just be starting to ripen; the plants are gorgeous, but the tomatoes stay green. The green bean crop is about over, it was cut short by an animal that decided to feast on the plants a couple of weeks ago. I figured it for a woodchuck, but then this morning there were the culprits, plain as day: a doe and a fawn were in the yard! Not a strange sight at all in Samsonville, where tall fences surround all gardens, but unheard of in Castleton. Sigh. I guess the hounds were off duty. Does this mean that next year I'll have to fence my veggies here too?

The answer to my "what will I choose" question from yesterday turned out to be (1) taking a nap; (2) writing out bills; and (3) a small amount of straightening up. Yes, I did some surfing - as always it is hard to make generalizations about such a huge population, especially without scientific design, but something has continually nagged at me since I discovered the world of blogging; that not only is it often another forum of ignorance, it is also extremely "cliquey," in a tunnel vision, incestuous kind of way. Add one more group to the tired jocks-greasers-freaks-geeks-whatevers. And, of course, only our erudite clique of knows all, sees all, reports all first bloggers, wink wink, has the truth on [fill in the blank: most commonly something to do with media, the US president, another politician, corporations, law enforcement, constitutional issues, international affairs, religion, the Internet]. Anyone who disagrees with us, is [pick one: clueless, pathetic, ignorant, deluded, evil].

My favorite posts tend to be personal; what some would call "banal." I make no apologies for disliking the fake journalism, the political, the rants on various subjects. To me, the profound is the stuff of daily living; the important questions have more to do with the way one lives life, the way one treats others, the beauty in the joy, the pain, the ordinary and extraordinary experiences, and what this moment in time, and space, means in the scheme of things. I don't want to be bombarded with a written version of cable news, that is even more one sided and narrow minded. I don't see much good in disliking an individual, or a group, over something as insignificant and petty as their party affiliation. It strikes me as immature and silly.

However, on occasion I stumble across something irritating enough that it forces me to not ignore it. At the moment, lots of folks are pretty worked up over a letter to the editor, critical of the US, written by someone self-described as a Canadian. I'm not bothering to link to it, because I don't feel like promoting such hostile stuff. The clique members are obsessed with various methods for tracking links and hits in search engines and that sort of thing, and that's a party I am not going to join. [email me if you must have the link.] My experience is that anything that is labeled an "Open Letter to..." is generally very self-important and only worth reading for comic purposes. The writer could use many hours on the couch, to deal with "issues." And maybe envy might be one?

Naturally, some of the responding commentary is very defensive; there is a big struggle to be a card carrying member of the group "I hate the US even more than you do, I'm not responsible for corporate and government actions, I am an American citizen, I try to be an activist, don't blame me for all the cited things about my culture that are true, but are not my fault and are not to my liking." A significant, and often pretty loud, segment in this land of cliques has little historical context, and so, at this millennium, the sky is falling! "A decade does not an era make," a history professor, wiser than the writer, once said in class.

A bunch of random, but connected, thoughts come to me as I follow the debate. I know it is in fashion, in comtemporary times, to bash the USA, from both within and without. But I usually don't care for what's in fashion. I'm not seeking to join the "I hate the US more, but I am personally offended by the letter writer" group; I don't support the letter, either, and at the same time, I am not a "rah rah" defender of a plastic-sitcom/reality television-fast food lifestyle. Some promoters (often also not Americans) of the letter are gentler, but claim that detractors (from both the "I hate the USA too" club and the "rah-rah" club) haven't articulated good rebuttals to the points in the letter. I say, why bother? Bluster is best met with a smile.

I'm proud to be American, a native New Yorker, and from a rural area. So there. I have just short of 41 years of experience in this role. My lack of shame isn't an insult to others, its a compliment to my family, my friends, my teachers, and my heritage. Roots are important to me, and mine are deep. Some of my ancestors came here from the Palatine in 1710, from Ireland in the mid-1800s, and from Italy in 1912; a few were already here. I am thrilled that this assorted collection made my life possible. I refuse to let someone else define me, or my experience of my home, my nation, my community, and my culture.

A few weeks ago, I could barely breathe for several days, from smoke that drifted over the Catskills, created by a fire that was burning in Canada. The tortured Premarin foals are in Canada. And, one cause of the pollution cloud in the news recently is the Eastern practice of burning dung as fuel for outdoor cooking pots. Yes, Virginia, we are interconnected, and the relationship is a complicated one. Should I write nasty attack letters to the editor? Well, I could, I suppose, but I believe that anything that decreases civility (road rage, lawsuits, bad attitudes) does nothing to advance leading a healthy life.

I always wonder, when I read this sort of thing, how the writer actually lives on a day-to-day basis, that is, when not spewing with a poison pen. I mean, it is pretty lame, I think, to get so self righteous about the big picture when your little picture is all screwed up. Does s/he consume? Use electricity? How about water? Are organics composted, or thrown in a landfill? Does s/he drive a gasoline powered car? Alone? What's for supper tonight? Is that an air conditioner? A heating system? What kind of person are you, as a neighbor, co-worker, family member? Here's a news flash. What the author labels with frustration as blind ignorance might really be self-actualization. There's wisdom in that placid demeanor, baby. Or are you too busy crafting fighting words to understand?

A closing note on this subject, regarding the common practice of using lengthy excerpts of other's works in ejournals. I see song lyrics, poetry, prose quoted everywhere. Not plagiarized, but also not paid for. Is there no "fair use" rule? Or is that another facet of the various fights about "control" in this wild, wild west of the Internet? Hmmm. Another example of the electronic world's troublesome nature for a writer; it is good, and it is bad. I mention this because the sentiments in "Open Letter" called to mind Fire and Ice by Robert Frost. Now, I know that's from 1920, but I still think you should go and consult the printed volume on your shelf. (Here's a Frost site if you can't do that.)

Something more interesting than any of the above is the American Library Association's Banned Books Week, which will be held September 21-28, 2002. Groups and individuals on the fringe, both left and right, and neither left nor right, mount challenges to books in schools and libraries. In my class this summer, I had a few individuals who supported parental involvement in curriculum to a fault. I don't believe in stifling unpopular views in class, because my status as instructor makes the relationship unequal, so I let the students debate this one. My intervention was only in providing a list of the 100 most frequently challenged books, so that all the extremists could see their favorite works are often the ones targeted, right along with whatever book they feel should be removed. Anyway, my message here is simply this: Reading is Good.

Two weeks until the semester begins, one week until the online course must be ready. I've committed to a "third course," but it will be composed of administrative work in graduate admissions and advisement for the department, not teaching. So, adding in the graduate student mentoring, and the (potential) contract writing that I already expressed interest in when I submitted my last brochure in June, it looks like my time is filled. The good part is that it means no anxious, hungry scrambling for work; the bad part is that it leaves little time for creative freelancing. If the book contract comes through, I'll be writing in the wee hours to make the deadline. If it doesn't, I'll have to be very careful to not put the project aside for a few years. But, I always accomplish more than expected when I am too busy, and find myself tearing apart my head when I am not.

So I have a few days until I have to post the online course introduction, and the weather, while still on the hot side, is more pleasant today - opening up many options. I should clean, the house surely needs it. I should write up some checks and mail bills. I should do some yard work. I could take a nap. Or write. Or surf. Or cook something special. Or brush the excess hair out of Rudy, and get the mats out of Edna (Sophie still has little hair, although she could use a bath). Rudy loves it, Edna does not. Sophie watches warily. Does she wish for hair, I wonder, or is she hoping to not be the next to be groomed? Anyway, the question is, what will I choose?

As an "Independent," I have started to get bombarded with mailings from candidates. The governor's race in particular is sending me a lot of junk. I like the idea of third parties, and I dislike third party endorsements of one of the major two party candidates; in other words, I believe this is hijacking the idea of a third party, and that they should run their own person. The mail carrier might just as well throw the circulars directly into my paper recycling bin, and save me the trouble of sorting.

Tuesday Too #26

1.) Here's something to RANT about: "Nigerian woman loses battle..."

In the past, I had more clear views on such subjects...it was all academic. Kind of like debating whether standardized testing is a good or bad way to assess student achievement. Interesting, important, but also dry, distant stuff. Now, since 9/11, things are different. Now I can't even articulate how I feel. How about "sad?"

2.) After reading the above article, most questions seem trivial; however, isn't something like this beyond toleration/acceptance of "other cultures ways of doing things?"

I think so.

3.) Explain your yes position on question # 2, and tell us what should/can we as individuals, or nations do about it? If you answered no to question # 2, tell us why we should should close our eyes to injustice in other nations.

See my answer to #1. What can I do about it? Try to live my life the best way I can, and be thankful, but realize how tiny it is, in the scheme of things - I mean, over time and space. And pray!

I am seriously upset tonight about the tapes of dogs being tortured and killed with nerve gas that are everywhere on the news. I can't switch the channel fast enough, because I can't have those images carved in my brain. I hate people who are cruel to animals. I mean I really, really, really, really hate them, and I have no apologies for these feelings. None. My beloved dogs!

Spent all weekend swimming, and visiting, leading to another tired Monday. From the pool, you can look out across the big (hay) field toward the road, and in the evening there are deer scattered about, grazing. It's a beautiful sight. I think I have really mastered grill cooking; in this never ending heat, I refuse to turn on even the surface burners of the stove. I roast foil-wrapped corn and beets this way, and make other veggie combinations in a cast-iron frying pan on the grill. All the goodness, flavor and nutrition-wise, stays in, but the extra heat stays out.

Just took my first swim...it was heavenly. I also located the old book I mentioned on Wednesday, and it is called simply Mother Goose. The inscription "to Florence from Grandma" is dated 1939, and the condition of the book, while fragile, is better than I remember. The rhyme is as I remember it; "if wishes were horses, beggars would ride; if turnips were watches, I would wear one by my side." The rest, from Abby, is not in my version.

On the education front, here's a very interesting issue of Daedalus, with some articles online.

Dancing around, reminiscing about childhood. In Dear Abby recently, someone wrote in to ask what is the next line in an old nursery rhyme they remembered. Yesterday and today, response letters were printed. I didn't recall the quoted fragment from the earlier letter, "if "ifs" and "ans" were pots and pans," but a reader yesterday said the following line is "there would be no need for tinkers." They also reported that the beginning of the poem is "If wishes were horses, beggars would ride; if turnips were watches, I would wear one by my side." That part rang a bell, and got me hunting for an old book. (Yes, hunting, not looking.) Most of the people who wrote in to Abby probably are older than me, and they recalled their mothers or grandmothers quoting the verse to them. The book I am seeking is called something like Mother Goose's Nursery Rhymes, and I think it was second hand at the time it was given to my mother by her grandmother. This is not precise, because the hunt was stalled by the sudden memory of the book on a bookshelf at the other house in Samsonville. As I recall, it was in need of TLC even before I read it many times as a kid. And even then I knew that a few of the rhymes were not PC (we didn't call it that, though). Anyway there's something else I will do this weekend besides swim!

Tidbits on BlogSisters about children's freedom and safety in the past and today; about playing sports as a girl; also about children's fantasy stories in books and popular movies. Then, Elaine wrote a couple posts on related subjects - vintage copies of children's literature, and the innovative sharing of books. I love everything about the idea of bookcrossing.com, but my attachment to my volumes makes it hard to part with all but duplicate copies (except for Mark Twain, where I jealously guard the dupes too), even if this obsession makes it hard to fit anything bigger than a loveseat in the livingroom (it's tight, but two humans, two canines, and a feline manage fine). Unless I weeded books I didn't care for much; but who wants to spread those?

Anyway, I expanded my hunt somewhat and came up with five children's books from days gone by. Three my mother gave me as a gift for my birthday last year: Little Pets Pleasure Book (n.d.), The Three Little Kittens (1922), and Noah's Ark (1889). The latter belonged to Edna Merrihew, a distant relative that we discovered by accident in our genealogy quest. Some papers of hers were among the contents of an old house that my cousin, who sells antiques, acquired. The illustrations are gorgeous! A fourth is Peter and Polly in Autumn (1918); this is a book that my mother and her brother read at the Bushkill School. It is for more advanced beginning readers and I liked it a lot when I was a kid, too. The last is from my own carefree, headed to the general store on a spider bike without a helmet days as a supremely "non-jock," also "non-girly" girl, and it is Pinocchio, a very brief, but wonderful living story book version from 1960.

I don't know what became of the longer Pinocchio story that my father read to me over and over when I was small, but last year I bought a 1986 English translation of the original and read it through. It had lost none of its charm. I am remembering the pair of marionettes, Pinocchio and Gepetto, that Daddy would dance around, acting out the story and other adventures. How much I protested when they had to go to sleep in their shoe box home, to have their strings untangled the following day. They now are suspended from the rafters in the garage at my parents' house, and over the years those two have acquired some peers in a pair of puppets my brother got in Mexico, and a space man complete with green lightbulb head that my father made as part of a Halloween costume. The puppet who wanted to be a real boy and his woodcarver father, after a long break, expanded their repertoire a few years ago, and in the company of the other marionettes (sans the space man, however) they made a couple of appearances on a cardboard stage that once was a washing machine box, taking part in a parody of the puppeteer's favorite show on the Nashville Network.

Finished adding all the pinback button images to the Virtual Museum. That makes the July/August exhibit four pages long! (Maybe it will serve for September too.) Now I have to take the 22 sheets of poster board and figure out how to re-display them in "reality."

Tuesday Too # 25

1.) What is your favorite freeware program?

Adobe Acrobat Reader is hard to beat, but in terms of less known, Print Screen Works.

2.) Do you think the way the internet has changed the world is essentially a good thing? Why or why not?

Like most everything, it has bad elements, but definitely yes, I think it has been a very good thing. It has increased access to shopping, information, and education. It has made it easier to communicate at work, and across distances, with all sorts of others: family, friends, peers, strangers, vendors and providers.

3.) Is there something that's really bothering you these days? It might be personal, political, scientific or just downright kinky. What is it?

The main issue that has preoccupied me, since I was a teenager, is death.

It is so hot! I worked on staining the fence for our retaining wall project today, but just for a short time. Even with a straw hat the sun is too strong. I can't wait until the weekend, so that I can swim. Ma reports that the pool is 3/4 full, and that she and Daddy went swimming today. But as she would say I shouldn't wish my life away. I did order a new bathing suit from Land's End in anticipation, however.

In a day or so I have to return to curriculum, getting ready for my fall classes and mentoring a graduate student. Until then, I am "stealing time," and I have a full to do list in the works. In an effort to finish up my pinback button project, I scanned all 22 sheets of buttons. Tomorrow I will add them to the Virtual Museum. I received a newsletter in the mail, from the Small Publisher's Association of North America (SPAN). It is a complimentary copy, sent to me because of my membership in NAWW. I am not quite ready to go that route yet - although waiting to hear from Black Dome Press is excrutiating - but it got me thinking.

The jury's still out on this ejournaling endeavor. I went this route so that my website would have some content updated regularly, to spark me to write more, because I have always liked journaling, and doing it this way sounded innovative and fun. I did not really pursue this because I wished to join an online community. I did establish a web presence for networking purposes, in the sense of marketing and publication, but I guess I never imagined the Blogger world, where the homepage reports that in July, there were 1.5 million posts per minute, on average. That's incredible.

So, it has been sucessful in serving the functions I envisioned, and I am satisfied with that. On the other hand, there certainly are enjoyable aspects of the community; it is fun to surf around, read, and occasionally participate via comments, but my goals here had little or nothing to do with that part of the experience. Posting is not a problem, but without discipline, the community part can be a significant time waster. And although there are many, many gems among those mind-boggling 1.5 million, there is also a vast forum of ignorance operating. That's one more forum of ignorance, when in my experience, already there were too many. Filtering can be an exhausting, and very time consuming process. Irritating too. Some argue about the merits of web logging v. traditional journalism. I don't know whether that is an interesting or worthy debate. Since when did journaling become the same as journalism? Would that be the same time as when shouting heads on cable became news? All I can say is that apart from Saundra Smokes, I don't have much affection for print op-eds, either.

Anyway, SPAN's newsletter came - traditionally via the USPS - and as I scanned it I thought, I should work on my Mimmie book, because regardless of how it makes it to print, it sure will make it someday. (The fuel provided may be worth the price of membership?) Another incentive was provided by my mother, who sent me a Paypal donation yesterday :-). The proposal is three chapters; the remainder of the book is a work-in-progress, so today, in this heat, music off, fan whirling, dogs asleep, I resisted any surfing in the world of blogs (that's what other people write; me, I still journal) or other net temptations, and made one more small step toward realizing the dream that has been guiding me since 1996.