November 19: Hours of Service, Operation Christmas Child, Basho, Two Haiku, Off the Top of My Head

During the next several months Ives sent the center several large boxes of art supplies and paper from the office, and every so often on a Sunday afternoon he would go up to run a workshop for the kids, work that Ives much enjoyed, as it got him outside of himself.  He did this, either alone or with his daughter or Annie, on and off, for five years, and with a few hours of service, found an agreeable way of passing his time.

One of the ways that Ives fills his time after the death of his son is volunteering at a community center for inner city youths.  He donates his time and talents, and, for a few hours, his spirits lift.  By thinking of the needs of other children, Ives is able to find some happiness and peace.

This evening, I took my kids to a local dollar store to shop for a charity named Operation Christmas Child.  My son and daughter filled two shoe boxes with gifts for impoverished children in places like Eastern Europe and Africa.  We had a really good time.  My son ran up and down the store aisles, finding notebooks and plush toys.  My daughter, a little more methodical, went from section to section, filling her box with things like toothbrushes and a baby doll.  When we got to the cash register, my son proudly placed his box on the counter and said to the cashier, "I'm sending Christmas to a little boy who doesn't have Christmas."

I have to admit that I wasn't thrilled with the idea of spending an hour at the dollar store shopping this evening.  My wife was supposed to accompany us, but she got called in to work.  Operation Christmas Child has always been my wife's holiday tradition with our kids.  Tonight, it became my duty by default.  As we left the store tonight, I felt really blessed.  Yes, my wife and I are struggling financially right now, but, compared to the people who will be receiving our shoe boxes, we are well off.  Wealthy even.

So I am thankful for Operation Christmas Child.  For the generous hearts of my son and daughter.  For my wife forcing me to take my kids shopping.  For the money to fill those shoe boxes.

Saint Marty had a real Christmas moment tonight.

Two Haiku

by:  Basho

     Felling a tree
and seeing the cut end--
     tonight's moon.


     The crane's legs
have gotten shorter
     in the spring rain.

Off the Top of My Head

November 16: Poets of the Week, Buson, Two Haiku, "Ives" Dip, Off the Top of My Head

For the first time, I have decided to award Poet of the Week to three writers.  Three masters of haiku--Basho, Buson, and Issa.

I have never been able to write a successful haiku, but I have always admired them.  The concentration of image.  The surprise of the final line.  There's so much possibility for humor and beauty.  Making the ordinary extraordinary.  Buson does all of that.

Two Haiku

by:  Buson

     His Holiness the Abbott
is shitting
     in the withered fields.


     Cover my head
or my feet?
     the winter quilt.


See what I mean?  When I came across that first one, I literally laughed out loud in my office at the university.  A grad student was walking by my door at the time and did a double take.  That's alright.  I'm already known as the guy who plays Christmas music all year long, so I'm just five cats away from being the English Department's certifiable eccentric.

Speaking of the English Department, tomorrow morning I have a guest coming to my Good Books class to do my annual evaluation.  Now, I've recently learned that I have been teaching for 46 semesters at the university as a contingent professor.  Doing the math, that is exactly 23 years of teaching.  I shouldn't get nervous about classroom observations any more.  Yet, my inner Catholic schoolboy always gets the best of me, and I spend a few weeks being anxious and guilty.

So, my question for this evening's Ives dip is:

Will my classroom observation go well tomorrow morning?

And the answer from Oscar Hijuelos is:

As they happily walked to the subway, they were looking forward to spending a lot of time together at home during the holiday, in the company of family and friends.  Ives and Annie stopped to peer into a window display of French linen when, just like that, a terrible darkness entered them, and they could not move and stood looking at one another stupidly, on the crowded and busy sidewalk.

Okay, the first half of that passage points toward a really good evaluation.  However, the second half is a little Stephen Kingish in feeling and tone.  So, either everything's going to go great tomorrow morning, or I'm going to be attacked by a rabid Saint Bernard on the way to class.

Saint Marty isn't sure which answer he prefers.

Off the Top of My Head

 

January 6: Writing Haiku, Basho, "Winter Solitude"

I have a confession:  I suck at writing haiku.  I have tried and tried to come up with a successful one, and I have failed and failed.  I usually end up writing things like this:

Wake in the morning--
room still dark
lizard toe breath

Like I said, I suck.  Not that I've completely given up on haiku.  Every once in a while, I will jot something down in my journal that I think is profound.  When I reread it a few days later, it has lost its profundity.

Haiku are deceptively simple.  Little breaths of verse that leave you breathless.  Three lines.  One image.  A last line that makes you gasp with recognition and surprise.  I wanted to write a winter haiku for tonight, but I couldn't.  I have to turn to Basho, the seventeenth century Japanese master of the form.

Saint Marty writes haiku
on winter night.
Frozen dog turd

Winter Solitude