December 19: Prisoners of War, Grading, Holiday Preparations

As a trafficker in climaxes and thrills and characterization and wonderful dialogue and suspense and confrontations, I had outlined the Dresden story many times.  The best outline I ever made, or anyway the prettiest one, was on the back of a roll of wallpaper.

I used my daughter's crayons, a different color for each main character.  One end of the wallpaper was the beginning of the story, and the other end was the end, and then there was all that middle part, which was the middle.  And the blue line met the red line and then the yellow line, and the yellow line stopped because the character represented by the yellow line was dead.  And so on.  The destruction of Dresden was represented by a vertical band of orange cross-hatching, and all the lines that were still alive passed through it, came out the other side.  

The end, where all the lines stopped, was a beetfield on the Elbe, outside of Halle.  The rain was coming down.  The war in Europe had been over for a couple of weeks.  We were formed in ranks, with Russian soldiers guarding us--Englishmen, Americans, Dutchmen, Belgians, Frenchmen, Canadians, South Africans, New Zealanders, Australians, thousands of us about to stop being prisoners of war.

Okay, Vonnegut does not actually provide a section break after that third paragraph.  This passage actually takes up a few pages of the novel.  However, I do not have the energy or the stamina to type in that much actual text.  Plus, these three paragraphs are really all about endings and being set free, which is pretty appropriate for me this afternoon.

Yes, I know that I have been absent for a few days.  I have one word which will explain my disappearance from the blogosphere (I'm not even sure that's a word, but I'm going to use it).  That word:  GRADING.  That's right.  For the last four days, all I have been doing, all day and night long, is grading papers and discussion forums and research projects.  I stayed up until 1 a.m. with a red pen in my hand.  Then I would sleep for a few hours, after which I would rise, pick up my red pen, and start all over again.

In a lot of ways, I feel like I'm at the end of a battle.  Call it the Battle of Finals.  I am surrounded by the casualties of this battle right now as I sit in my office at the university.  Stacks of research papers and final reflection papers.  A grade book with tiny, Scrooge-like scribblings in pen and pencil.  If it had been a couple semesters ago, I would also be counting up bottles and cans of Diet Mountain Dew.  Gave that up a while ago.  Instead, I have a very large cup of water in front of me.

I am now ready to commence my holiday preparations in earnest, after a nap this afternoon.  First order of business:  a Christmas poem and addressing Christmas cards.  Then, another nap.  After that, wrapping presents and baking some sugar cookies.  Then, another nap.  I think you're seeing the patter here.

Of course, on Thursday, my family and I head to Calumet in the Copper Country of the Upper Peninsula.  I'm going to be the guest on a radio program taping at the Calumet Theater this Friday evening.  I'm looking forward to the trip, although my mind isn't quite there yet.  Still a few too many other things to accomplish first.

So, never fear!  I am still alive.  Just a bit exhausted.

Saint Marty is thankful this evening for endings.  And beginnings.