March 14: Vogon Armpits, Good Things, Three Trinities

Arthur and Ford are about to be thrown into outer space . . .

The long steel-lined corridor echoed to the feeble struggles of the two humanoids clamped firmly under rubbery Vogon armpits.

"This is great," spluttered Arthur, "this is really terrific.  Let go of me, you brute!"

The Vogon guard dragged them on.

"Don't you worry," said Ford, "I'll think of something."  He didn't sound hopeful.

"Resistance is useless!" bellowed the guard.

"Just don't say things like that," stammered Ford.  "How can anyone maintain a positive mental attitude if you're saying things like that?"

I promised you all a Pollyanna-ish post this evening, and I intend to deliver.  Yes, I still am struggling with depression, which, I imagine, is like being clamped firmly under the rubbery armpit of a Vogon.  Those feelings haven't disappeared.  However, a promise is a promise.

So, a list of good things that have happened/will happen today:

1. One of my best friends visited me at work and brought me some delicious muffins for breakfast.  We sat and talked.  She understands my struggles and made my morning so much brighter.
2. I had lunch with another one of my best friends, Missy.  I've been working with her for close to 20 some years.  She always makes me feel better about myself and my life.  (She also understands my mean girl side.)
3. This evening, at the Carnegie Library in my hometown, I will be giving a reading in celebration of being reelected Poet Laureate of the Upper Peninsula for 2019-2020.  This event is all about gratitude, for the support I've received throughout the years from the library staff and community.
4. Tonight, I am also attending a poetry open mic event with another of my best friends.  (Yes, I have been blessed by best friends today!)  It will be a completely stress-free time, eating, drinking, and listening to poets with an edge.  Love it.
5. I was contacted this afternoon by a reporter from Interlochen Public Radio who wants to interview me about being Poet Laureate for a second term.  This invitation came out of the blue, and it made me both humbled and filled with thankfulness.
6. Everybody in my household is healthy.
7. My daughter is going to states with her musical theater solo.
8. My son didn't end up in the principal's office at all this month.  So far.
9. I still have a job.  For now.

Okay, I can tell that the list is verging on a downward trend, so I better stop at nine.  It's a good Biblical number.  Three trinities.  

It's going to be a wonderful night.

This has been a message from Saint Pollyanna.

December 30: Time Unfurls, Funerals, Good Things

What book should I use next year on the blog?  Take the poll:

Book Poll

And then occasionally the mountains part.  The tree with the lights in it appears, the mockingbird falls, and time unfurls across space like an oriflamme.  Now, we rejoice . . .

It's all about light and rejoicing.  Moments when the sky opens up, and time comes to a standstill.  The world frozen in happiness, however brief.  

This evening, we celebrated the life of my wife's grandmother.  Funerals are strange things.  They are full of both laughter and tears.  Sort of like life.  We joined together.  Prayed.  Sang.  Shared stories.  Looked at old pictures.  And ate.  It sort sounds like a family Christmas get-together, in a way.

Tomorrow is New Year's Eve.  A time of looking backward and forward.  There have been some really good things that have happened this year.  A promotion at the university.  My daughter turning sixteen.  Good job for my wife that she loves.  My son--funny, full of compassion and love (our parish priest told me a little while ago that my son was "full of light").  Good things.

But there have been challenges, as well.  My dad falling down the stairs and breaking his shoulder.  My mother's failing memory.  Constant money struggles.  Most recently, the passing of my wife's grandmother this past week.  Bad things.

That's what this evening was all about.  Acknowledging the good and bad.  Crying and laughing.  We have a fridge full of cheese and ham and rolls.  Some noodle salad.  Over the next week, we will eat those leftovers.  Remember.  Because memory is a gift for the brokenhearted. 

I hope all my disciples have more good than bad to remember this New Year's Eve.  And ham rolls.  Lots of ham rolls.

Please vote for Saint Marty (Martin Achatz):

Voting for next Poet Laureate of the U. P.