October 14: Live Water, Wisconsin Dells, Wedding Anniversary

Live water heals memories . . .

Greetings from the Kalahari Resort in the Wisconsin Dells, home of much live water.  We just returned from the water park where my son dragged me up and down many water slides.  I floated down the lazy river with my daughter.  I sat in the outdoor hot tub with my wife.  Like I said, lots of live water.  Not sure it's the kind that Dillard is talking about, but it made me feel alive.

Since my daughter has been nine or ten, my family has been coming here every year for this dance convention.  It just so happens that today is also my wedding anniversary.  Twenty-one years.  Our marriage has had its ups and downs.  Huge ups and huge downs.  But, through a lot of grace, we have endured.  I'm talking a LOT of grace.

I've been dealing with memories today.  As I was sitting with my daughter in the hot tub this evening, she asked me how long my wife and I have been married.  When I told her, she laughed and said, "Wow, you are really old."  For a year of our marriage, my wife and I were separated.  It had to do with my wife's bipolar and struggle with sexual addiction.  During that separation, my daughter, who was in kindergarten, was my lifesaver.  Some nights, she was the only thing that kept me tethered to the world.

There were a lot of people (friends and family) who didn't understand why I reconciled with my wife.  People who thought I should simply walk away from our marriage.  Cut my losses, so to speak.  But I didn't.  I couldn't.  For my daughter, myself, my wife, I chose love and forgiveness instead. 

And here I am.  Twenty-one years after my wife and I exchanged vows.  With a beautiful, talented fifteen-year-old daughter and smart, funny eight-year-old son.  Surrounded by live water and love.  As the new Nobel literature laureate Bob Dylan once said, "Behind every beautiful thing, there is some kind of pain."

Saint Marty will take the pain, because the beauty is worth it.

October 10: Wondrous Example, Perfect Family, Wisconsin Dells

Ives and Annie seemed to epitomize, with their well-behaved children, a wondrous example of what a family should be like, especially in that neighborhood, where many of the kids where rough and got into trouble...

Yes, Ives seems to have the perfect family.  Beautiful wife.  Two smart children.  Good job.  Nice, rent-controlled apartment.  Ives is living the American dream.  Of course, Ives' dream is soon studded with tragedy, most significantly, the murder of his teenage son.

I do not have a poem for you guys today.  Or a new cartoon.  I have been sitting in convention rooms at the Kalahari Resort in the Wisconsin Dells, watching young people learn dance routines.  That may sound relaxing, but my daughter is 14 years old.  Nothing about her is relaxing, including this dance convention.

Tomorrow morning, I have to wake her up at 7 a,m..  She will growl and complain, say she's not hungry, and probably sulk for half a day.

Another day in paradise for this would-be Saint.,

Saint Martyis going to need a vacation to recover from this vacation.,

October 10: Christmas Music, Madeleine L'Engle, "Bearer of Love"

I have been listening to Christmas music a lot in the last few weeks, especially on my computer at work.  It's been quite stressful in the medical office, and Christmas music calms me down.  Of course, my coworkers are not in the holiday spirit, so I'm annoying the crap out of them.  I don't care, though.  I love Christmas music.  It makes me happy.

I also have to work on a revision of a Christmas essay this weekend.  An editor has asked for a few revisions, and, when I get those revisions done, he'll publish it.  So, while I'm at my daughter's dance classes tomorrow and Sunday, I'll be rewriting like crazy.

Tomorrow, I will be spending most of the day in dance classes with my daughter.  We're at the Wisconsin Dells for a dance convention.  Hundreds of teenage girls and boys taking classes in ballet, tap, modern, jazz, and hip hop.  It's one of my favorite weekends of the year.  I love watching my daughter dance, even if she gets a little cranky after eight hours.

Tonight, I have a Christmas poem from Madeleine L'Engle for you guys.

Just put a little Bing Crosby on your iPod, and hum along with Saint Marty.

Bearer of Love

by:  Madeleine L'Engle

The great swan's wings were wild as he flew down;
Leda was almost smothered in his embrace. 
His crimson beak slashed fiercely at her gown--
lust deepened by the terror on her face.

Semele saw her lover as a god.
Her rash desire was blatant, undenied.
He showed himself, thunder and lightning shod.
Her human eyes were blasted and she died.

And Mary sat, unknowing, unaware.
The angel's wings were wilder than the swan
as God broke through the shining, waiting air,
gave her the lily's sword thrust and was gone.

The swans, the old gods fall in consternation
at the fierce coming of the wild wind's thrust
entering Mary in pure penetration.
The old gods die now, crumbled stone and rust.

Young Mary, moved by Gabriel, acquiesced,
asked nothing for herself in lowliness,
accepted, too, the pain, and then, most blest,
became the bearer of all holiness.

Fa la la la la, la la la la

October 12: Ballet and All, Dance Convention, My Daughter

"She's a dancer," I said.  "Ballet and all.  She used to practice about two hours every day, right in the middle of the hottest weather and all..."

Jane Gallagher, the love of Holden's young life, is a dancer.  It's one of the first things we learn about Jane.  Well, that and the fact that Holden's roommate, Stradlater, is going on a date with her.  I don't know if Holden ever provides a physical description of Jane--hair color, eye color, etc.  I've always pictured her with auburn hair and brown eyes.  Lots of freckles across her nose and cheeks.  Tall and thin, with dancer's legs.  Basically, Jane is an older version of my daughter.

I spent the day watching my daughter dance.  Hip hop.  Tap.  Ballet.  Hip hop again.  I followed her from class to class here at the Kalahari Resort.  She worked her little butt off.  I'm always amazed when I see her dance.  She's confident and graceful.  Sometimes, I marvel that I had something to do in the making of this beautiful creature.  My daughter.

That's all Saint Marty has to say tonight.  He's a proud daddy.

P. S. Sorry.  No poem or cartoons this weekend.

Jane Gallagher.  I mean, my daughter in the Wisconsin Dells

October 10: Nothing to Say

For this second post of October 10, I have nothing to say.

I have nothing to say about watching Jaws with my film class.  It's a great film, regardless of its popularity.  Nothing can beat Robert Shaw as Quint, telling that story of the U. S. S. Indianapolis.  It's some of the best acting I've ever seen.

I have nothing to say about going to my daughter's chorus concert tonight.  I'm not going to say anything about how difficult it was to get a babysitter, although I had to sell a kidney to secure my sister's services for the evening.

I have nothing to say about how cold it is.  There was snow flying at 4 a.m. as I was driving into work.  It felt like November, not early October.  It doesn't bode well for Halloween, which I fear will be just this side of winter.

I have nothing to say about getting ready for my daughter's dance convention at the Wisconsin Dells.  I'm not going to talk about cleaning out my car or packing my suitcase.  I'm not going to discuss the seven-hour drive or throngs of hyper, tweenaged dancer girls.

Saint Marty simply has nothing to say.  Period.

This says it all...

October 16: Kalahari, Dance, Whassup

Okay, people, I know I missed posting yesterday, but whassup with the low traffic yesterday for the blog?  Seven page views.  Really?  I mean, I usually am pretty good about giving you something new every day, but yesterday, by the time I got back from the amusement park with my daughter, I was in no shape to be witty, profound, or poetic.  I was just exhausted.

On days where I don't post something new, I suggest you go back to an old post, something from a year ago, and think of it as a rerun of one of your favorite TV programs.  Call it the Best of Saint Marty Show.  For instance, one of my favorite episodes of The Bob Newhart Show is the Thanksgiving episode where he gets drunk and tries to order moo goo gai pan.  I could watch that particular episode every day and not get tired of it.  Next time you check Saint Marty and don't find anything new (which is a rarity), tune in to his moo goo gai pan rerun.  You won't be disappointed.

Tonight is our last night here at the Kalahari in the Wisconsin Dells.  My daughter has danced for two days straight, and her feet are aching.  We just got back from the indoor amusement park, and she's pretty excited.  She won 1000 tickets from one of the arcade games.  That means she got to trade those tickets in for some prizes that probably cost around 75 cents, but she was ecstatic.  Just the look on her face was worth the $78 I spent on tokens for her to win.  (I'm exaggerating a little bit there.)  Then we rode the ferris wheel and had a blast.

My last piece of wisdom for tonight is a little bit of fatherly bragging.  My ten-year-old daughter worked her butt off this weekend.  She took like 14 or 15 dance classes over the course of two days and worked like crazy.  She is a great kid, and I couldn't be prouder of her.  Plus, she's a great dancer.  And I'm not saying that just because she's my daughter.  She really has talent.

Saint Marty is allowed to be a little proud of his kid tonight.  She's the best daughter in the world.  Now, ask him about her after the trip home tomorrow, and he might have a different answer for you.  But tonight, she's aces.

Moo Goo Gai Pan episode--still the best

October 14: Anniversary, Hello from the Kalahari, Long Day

Yes, I'm posting live from the Business Center of the Kalahari Resort in the Wisconsin Dells.  Not that anybody really cares, judging by the fact that Saint Marty has only received about 11 views so far today, and it's about 11:30 p.m.  Not that I'm complaining or anything.

At the moment, I have a surly Kalahari employee glaring at me.  They advertise that this computer room is open 24 hours, but it was closed and locked when I got here.  We had to phone the front desk to get it opened.  Therefore, the gentleman who unlocked the room is not very happy with me.  But I'm pretty tired and grumpy myself, so we make a good couple.

We got here around 4 p.m.  We took our time.  There was really no reason to get here early.  The Dance Convention doesn't begin until tomorrow morning.  As I sit here typing this post, the hotel staff is setting up the rooms for the classes across the hall.  I nearly got lost finding this place, and I'm not sure I'm going to be able to find my way back to my room. 

This afternoon, when I wandered around a little bit to get the lay of the land, so to speak, I got chased down the hallway by a grey-haired man with a German accent.

"Can I help you, sir?" said German employee.

"I was looking for the computer center," said I.

"Oh, yah, ve have zat just down zis hallvay, zen turn left," he said with a smile.  I was half expecting him to click his heels.

"Thank you very much," I said.

The German man nodded and disappeared quickly.  I told my wife when I got back to the room that I thought the Kalahari was harboring Nazi fugitives.  She laughed at me, but I've been on the lookout for Mossad agents all evening long.

Today is also my 16th wedding anniversary.  My wife and I can't really afford to buy each other presents this year.  This trip has to suffice as our gift to each other.  It's a pretty expensive gift.  I wished my wife a happy anniversary this morning before we left home.  I will kiss her goodnight when I get back to the hotel room after I'm done with this blog post.  That's the extent of the romance this year, unfortunately.  Hard to get really passionate with your spouse when you're bunking with your ten-year-old daughter, three-year-old son, and your sister.

My daughter starts dancing at 7:45 tomorrow morning and goes until about 4 p.m.  She is going to be really tired by the end of the day.  Then she wants to play laser tag with a group of girls from her dance school.  I wonder how much money that's going to put me back.

Saint Marty isn't complaining.  Really.  He's just nervous about any Gestapo agents who may be lurking around.

Keeping my eyes open and my mouth shut