November 21: Italian Cold Cuts, Happy Chaos, Issa, Two Haiku, Confessions of Saint Marty

Earlier in the day Ives had walked over from the office to Ninth Avenue during lunchtime, to buy boxes of Italian cold cuts and pastries, and these were set out on a table as a buffet...

To prepare for his annual Christmas tree decorating party, Ives buys food.  A lot of food.  Ham and salami and pastrami and cannolis.  Family and friends gather in his apartment, listen to Bing Crosby and Rosemary Clooney on the record player, and the kids decorate the tree with ornaments and fire-hazard lights that bubble and blink.  It's happy chaos.

I think that's the best way to describe holiday family gatherings.  Happy chaos.  This coming week is going to be filled with that kind of craziness.  On Monday or Tuesday, I'll bake my pecan pies.  My wife will throw together her double-layer cream cheese pumpkin pies.  On Thursday, pies in hand, we will attend two turkey dinners--one in the early afternoon, one in the evening.  There will be joking and tension, laughter and resentments.  That's family.

And I am thankful for this happy chaos.  Everyday life is too crammed with worry and stress.  It seems, some days, that I just move from crisis to crisis.  At night, when I climb into bed with my wife, I'm just happy that I've survived without landing in the hospital or worse. 

I used to thrive on the hectic quality of my life--two jobs, church organist duties, the publish or perish mentality of the university.  Now, I find it a little exhausting.  Given the choice between a quiet night at home watching the Food Network and performing in a Christmas concert, I would probably end up on my couch with a bag of chips.  Peace over turmoil.

I know this coming holiday week will not be without it share of drama.  But it's a different, more relaxed kind of drama.  Certainly, this first Thanksgiving since my sister's death will not be easy.  However, there will be the happy chaos of children and family, crowded into the kitchen, fighting over hot dinner rolls and mashed potatoes.  A blessing of busyness to combat sadness.

Saint Marty will be in the kitchen, knocking people out of the way to get his share of turkey skin.

Two Haiku

by:  Issa

     Windy fall--
these are the scarlet flowers
     she liked to pick.


     The pheasant cries
as if it just noticed
     the mountains.

Confessions of Saint Marty

November 17: Big Party, Classroom Observations, Issa, Two Haiku, Off the Top of My Head

On December 29, 1982, there had been a big party in the boardroom, and it was attended by many of the old-timers like Ives himself--Crane, Silverman, Schamberg--and Mr. Mannis, having survived his third open-heart operation, made a speech.  They had given Ives a watch--a gold Swiss pocket watch from the 1920s, engraved with his name on the back (to go into a drawer along with the watch he had intended to give his son long ago at Christmas)--and a plaque.

Ives is a respected advertising executive.  Over the years, he has fostered the work of younger artists and Spanish-speaking employees.  By the time he retires, Ives' hair has turned white, and he feels outdated.  Tired.  Ives knows that he isn't Norman Rockwell or Andy Warhol.  Yet, in his own small way, he has changed the world.  For that, he is proud.

This morning, a full-time professor came to my Good Books class to observe me.  I have been teaching at the university for 23 years now.  That's a lot of hours standing in front of classrooms over the past two decades.  I shouldn't get nervous.  Yet, I didn't sleep well last night, and I could barely think straight when I finally climbed out of bed at 4 a.m. for work.

That being said, the classroom observation went really well.  My students participated, asked questions, pretended to be interested.  The full-timer who observed me seemed impressed.  As he was leaving, he said that he was going to use one of my teaching techniques in his own class next semester.  I think that bodes well for my written evaluation.

So, I am thankful this evening that my classroom observation is over.  I am thankful that it went well, and that my evaluator responded to my lesson plan.

Saint Marty is also exhausted.  Too little sleep.  Too much worry.

Two Haiku

by:  Issa

     Napped half the day;
no one
     punished me!


     The toad!  It looks like
it could belch
     a cloud.

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