October 25: Carving Pumpkins, a Yellow Woods, Classic Saint Marty

My son's pumpkin

I have spent the day dealing with squash.  After church this morning, I drove to Walmart, and my daughter picked out two pumpkins--one for herself and one for her brother.  We also picked up some candy for next Saturday.  All Hallow's Eve. 

Then we went to my parents' house where I proceeded to scoop out and carve jack-o-lanterns.  My son and daughter designed the faces.  My son was inspired by Minecraft.  It's a Creeper--basically a pixel zombie.  he's very happy with the results.

My daughter's design is a little more, shall we say, graphic.  Her inspiration was a flu epidemic, I think.  Anyway, she's very happy with her jack-o-lantern, as well.  And my fingernails smell like pumpkin slime.  But I had fun.  Up until Thursday night, when I sold two of my books, I was thinking that we were going to have a pumpkinless Halloween.  Thank goodness for poetry and poetry lovers.

Yesterday, it stormed all day.  Rain and wind and cold.  Today was the exact opposite.  A cool autumn day of color and sunshine.  A two-roads-diverged-in-a-yellow-wood day.  I have been at a lot of crossroads in a lot of yellow woods.  Sometimes, I've taken the easier paths.  Most of the  time, however, I've chosen the harder paths.  And it has made all the difference.

I mean, look at me.  I'm still married (despite a year of separation and struggle).  I have two wonderful kids.  I've published a book of poems, and I teach for a university (part-time--you can't win them all).  I have had much success in my life.  And I am surrounded by people who love me.  I am a lucky guy because of those yellow woods and those unused paths.

This evening's episode of Classic Saint Marty first aired two years ago.  It's about hunger and waiting.

October 25, 2013:  Sandwich Bar, Burger, Fairy Tale

...After I put my bags in one of those strong boxes at the station, I went into this little sandwich bar and had breakfast.  I had quite a large breakfast, for me--orange juice, bacon and eggs, toast and coffee...

Holden really doesn't eat a whole lot in Catcher.  Near the end of the book, he stops in a diner and orders a doughnut that he doesn't eat, as well.  He does eat his breakfast from the sandwich bar, though.


If you can't tell from the above discussion, I'm a little hungry.  My wife and I are going out to lunch with a friend in a little while.  My friend, out of the blue last Friday, said to me, "I've been craving a burger.  Let me take you and your wife out to lunch.  In the spirit of friendship."  Well, I don't pass up free food.  Ever.  So, this afternoon, we're going out for burgers at a nice restaurant on the shores of Lake Superior.

That's my focus right now.  Food.  I didn't have much for breakfast, and dinner is a long way off.  I'm so hungry right now that I'm physically tired.  In between each sentence of this post are long minutes of sitting and staring.  Bus station minutes, when you're waiting for the Greyhound to pull in from Chicago.

Which reminds me...

Once upon a time, a man name Phillips lived on the banks of a great lake.  Phillips was a patient man.  In fact, he was known throughout the kingdom as the most patient man alive.  When he got up in the morning, he'd patiently say to himself, "I think I'll wait until lunch time to eat breakfast.  That way I'll enjoy breakfast even more."  When lunch time came, he'd patiently say, "I've already waited this long.  I might as well hold off 'til dinner.  Then I'll have the best meal ever."  At dinner time, he'd patiently sigh and say, "I'm a patient man.  I think I can wait until tomorrow morning to have breakfast."

Day after day, it went like this.  Phillips kept putting off breakfast, and he became thinner and thinner.  One day, he was so weak from hunger that he couldn't even get out of bed.  "That's OK," he whispered.  "I'll just wait until my strength returns."  He patiently closed his eyes, listened to the waves of the great lake outside his window, and fell back asleep.  He never woke up again.

Outside his window, a beautiful bluebird sang, "Dumbass, dumbass, dumbass."

Moral of the story:  "breakfast is the most important meal of the day" or "do not put off until tomorrow what you can eat today" or "my fairy tale really sucked today."

And Saint Marty lived happily ever after.

Mmmmm....toast good!

My daughter's pumpkin--disgusting