July 16: "Flock," Son and Niece, Natural Poets

Billy Collins is my shepherd . . . 

Flock

by: Billy Collins

It has been calculated that each copy of the

Gutenburg Bible . . . required the skins of 300 sheep.

     --from an article on printing

I can see them squeezed into the holding pen

behind the stone building

where the printing press is housed,

all of them squirming around

to find a little room

and looking so much alike

it would be nearly impossible

to count them,

and there is no telling

which one will carry the news

that the Lord is a shepherd,

one of the few things they already know.

I love obscure facts like the one Collins uses in this poem.  I frequently do the same.  One of the poems in my new manuscript is titled "Chipmunks See in Slow Motion."  Poetry helps me understand life in different ways, through different lenses.  These facts aid in that endeavor.

I spent most of today driving my son and niece to different places.  We started early in the morning by climbing Sugarloaf Mountain and having breakfast at its summit, Lake Superior on one side of us, unbroken forestland on the other.  We picked blueberries, took pictures.  I was pretty proud of myself for keeping up with the young'uns until the last incline I had to descend into the parking lot.  Fell on my knees and hands hard, but did not require a trip to the ER.

Then we traveled to a local attraction called Lakenenland that features outdoor metal sculptures by a local artist.  Dinosaurs.  Bigfoot.  Giant insects.  A rock concert (heavy metal, no doubt).  Again, we moseyed through the displays, took pictures.  No injuries to report.

Lastly, we drove to Presque Isle on Lake Superior.  My two charges went wading and rock hunting.  My niece wanted to jump off a particular cliff into the lake.  However, due to some flooding because of heavy rains last night, the road was temporarily closed.  Again, no injuries to report.

After a couple bubble teas, I brought them home, and I think they both took long naps.  (I did wake these teenagers up at 6 a.m., mind you.)  Tomorrow, we drive to Munising for a little Pictured Rocks boat ride, if the weather cooperates.  It's supposed to rain and be a little windy.

I love being with young people.  They allow me to see the world through different lenses, as well, because they are natural poets, unjaded and curious.  My son and niece have most of their lives ahead of them.  Everything they encounter is new and exciting.  Which makes me see everything as new and exciting again.  

Saint Marty is going to take some ibuprofen and watch a movie now.  Something he's seen before--because there's something to be said for old and comforting.

July 7: Went Mad Now, Social Media, "The Brady Bunch" and "Breaking Bad"

Arthur has just discovered that the Magratheans are building another Earth . . .

"Well, the Earth Mark Two in fact," said Slartibartfast cheerfully.  "We're making a copy from our original blueprints."

There was a pause.

"Are you trying to tell me," said Arthur, slowly and with control, "that you originally . . . made the Earth?"

"Oh yes," said Slartibartfast.  "Did you ever go to a place . . . I think it was called Norway?"

"No," said Arthur, "no, I didn't."

"Pity," said Slartibartfast, "that was one of mine.  Won an award, you know.  Lovely crinkly edges.  I was most upset to hear of its destruction.

"You were upset!"

"Yes.  Five minutes later and it wouldn't have mattered so much.,  It was a quite shocking cock-up."

"Huh?" said Arthur.

"The mice were furious."

"The mice were furious?"

"Oh yes," said the old man mildly.

"Yes, well, so I expect were the dogs and cats and duck-billed platypuses, but . . ."

"Ah, but they hadn't paid for it, you see, had they?"

"Look," said Arthur, "would it save you a lot of time if I just gave up and went mad now?"

For a while the aircar flew on in awkward silence.  Then the old man tried patiently to explain.

"Earthman, the planet you lived on was commissioned, paid for, and run by mice.  It was destroyed five minutes before the completion of the purpose for which it was built, and we've got to build another one."

Only one word was registering with Arthur.

"Mice?" he said.

"Indeed, Earthman."

Arthur's whole meaning of life has just been turned on its ear.  He, like any resident of the planet Earth, never knew that his home planet was actually an experiment being conducted by rodents.  That means that everything--cancer, earthquakes, the Reagan presidency, famines--all of it was part of a gigantic laboratory run by mice.

I don't deal well with life-altering revelations.  I don't like my life being turned upside down with one sentence or phone call or IM.  On the flip side, I don't like living a lie either.  I'm pretty much an open book.  If you want to find out what's happening in my life, all you have to do is ask me, or read my blog.  The details all out there in the open. 

Of course, you can't always trust social media to provide an accurate depiction of a person's life, either.  People don't paint ugly pictures of themselves.  That's why most captions on Facebook read like Hallmark cards:  "So blessed tonight!" and "The perfect family!" and "My kids are so awesome!" and "Look what my wife/husband did for me!"

On the other hand, most people will not post things on Facebook with captions like "Just got out of the psych ward!" or "My son cut down a tree on the school playground and used it to beat a classmate!" or "Hurray, I didn't get the raise I was expecting!"  People don't advertise the hurts and pains and disappointments that enter their lives.

The truth lies somewhere between The Brady Bunch and Breaking Bad.  There's always something behind the smiles in photos.  Happiness exists, but only because sadness complements it.  Joy exists, but only because despair is there to define it.  However, we all don't walk around in states of perpetual grief.  That isn't accurate, either.

My point in this post is simply not to believe all the smiling faces on Facebook.  Don't gauge your happiness on somebody else's.  Social media is a useful tool, but it can sometimes be deceptive and downright harmful in relationships--family, friendship, love, and marriage.  (Go ahead, you can sing theme to Married with Children if you want.)

Those of my disciples who know me in RT (that's Real Time) know things about me that simply don't make it onto this blog or my Facebook page.  Those of my disciples who simply know me as Saint Marty would probably be very disappointed to meet me in real life.  I'm not nearly as deep or funny.

The real Saint Marty lies somewhere in between.

All that being said, I hope you enjoyed the pictures in this post from my family's visit to Lakenenland this afternoon.  I've included ones of my beautiful and perfect children . . .