As soon as I posted the previous piece, my son's message appeared in my mailbox: "FYI: Phil is not from Philly!"
Last time, it was misspelling; this time, it's false information.
Maybe I'd better rethink this whole writing business. Or learn to check closer. Forgive, pl
Thursday, February 23, 2012
The seasons––like Bob Dylan’s ‘times’–– are a-changin’
by Pat Laster
So the famous woodchuck Phil in Philadelphia saw his shadow. The bears at a zoo chose the “spring” bucket of food over the “winter” bucket of goodies. Nightly lows predicted for the week just past averaged 40 degrees. That spells spring to me. Besides, the spring peepers have been singing the entire month.
Oh, there’ll be more winter, but when lows stay in the 40s for a week, there’s something changing in this wonderful world.
The mini-snow of Monday, a-week-ago, in Central Arkansas, was indeed weak, even though the weather people scared some school folks into announcing on Sunday night that their institutions would be closed the next day. Even Henderson succumbed, Kid Billy said. He slept all day.
Reaching for the current Farmer’s Almanac, I found an article by Caleb Weatherbee, pseudonym for the publication’s weather forecaster, titled “Top Ten Cities Where Weather Can Shut Down Everyday Life.” Why don’t I share at least one instance of several cities shut down by a storm?
Washington D.C. – Before the … winter of 2009-2010, D.C. had seen some heavy snowfalls, but they were usually few and far between. The legendary Knickerbocker Storm of 1922 dropped 28 inches and caused the collapse of the Knickerbocker Theater, killing 98 people.
Chicago, Illinois – It is rare when snow freezes The Windy City to a standstill. On January 13-14, 1979, twenty-three inches of snow stranded thousands in offices, in schools and in buses. About 50,000 abandoned cars and 800 buses littered the streets and expressways.
Atlanta, Georgia – With usually mild winters, the storm on January 12, 1982 (6 inches coinciding with afternoon rush hour), the rare blizzard on March 13, 1993, and on January 9, 2011 (snow mixed with ice), all brought the city to a halt.
New York, New York – Despite being the “city that never sleeps,” a good snowstorm HAS shut down parts of this area. Two instances: the “Lindsay Storm” on February 9, 1969 that was forecast to be primarily rain turned into snow—an inch per hour. The sanitation department was unprepared and slow to get plows out. Mayor John Lindsay took a political hit after some sections remained unplowed for a week.
On December 26, 2010, even though blizzard warnings were given, New York City officials were again unprepared for the nearly two-feet of snow. Trains were frozen to platforms, airports were shut down, and again, many streets went unplowed for days.
Los Angeles, California – It was rain, not snow, that paralyzed L.A. on December 23, 2010. The rain that fell during this one week was equal to half the annual rainfall--nearly 8 inches—for the downtown area. Outlying communities saw homes and cars awash in mud, hillsides melting into major highways, and tens of thousands without power.
Dallas, Texas – Though usually mild, winters in this ‘humid-subtropical’ place are occasionally hit by “Blue Northers” that sweep from north to south, dropping temps rapidly, sometimes into the single digits. Then a deep blue sky follows. If a Gulf of Mexico storm develops and interacts, as it did on January 10, 2011, it can disrupt schools, businesses, power grids, and airports.
We're not looking for such a storm as shuts down our world, but a little more snow wouldn't be bad. At least for the kiddies. #
So the famous woodchuck Phil in Philadelphia saw his shadow. The bears at a zoo chose the “spring” bucket of food over the “winter” bucket of goodies. Nightly lows predicted for the week just past averaged 40 degrees. That spells spring to me. Besides, the spring peepers have been singing the entire month.
Oh, there’ll be more winter, but when lows stay in the 40s for a week, there’s something changing in this wonderful world.
The mini-snow of Monday, a-week-ago, in Central Arkansas, was indeed weak, even though the weather people scared some school folks into announcing on Sunday night that their institutions would be closed the next day. Even Henderson succumbed, Kid Billy said. He slept all day.
Reaching for the current Farmer’s Almanac, I found an article by Caleb Weatherbee, pseudonym for the publication’s weather forecaster, titled “Top Ten Cities Where Weather Can Shut Down Everyday Life.” Why don’t I share at least one instance of several cities shut down by a storm?
Washington D.C. – Before the … winter of 2009-2010, D.C. had seen some heavy snowfalls, but they were usually few and far between. The legendary Knickerbocker Storm of 1922 dropped 28 inches and caused the collapse of the Knickerbocker Theater, killing 98 people.
Chicago, Illinois – It is rare when snow freezes The Windy City to a standstill. On January 13-14, 1979, twenty-three inches of snow stranded thousands in offices, in schools and in buses. About 50,000 abandoned cars and 800 buses littered the streets and expressways.
Atlanta, Georgia – With usually mild winters, the storm on January 12, 1982 (6 inches coinciding with afternoon rush hour), the rare blizzard on March 13, 1993, and on January 9, 2011 (snow mixed with ice), all brought the city to a halt.
New York, New York – Despite being the “city that never sleeps,” a good snowstorm HAS shut down parts of this area. Two instances: the “Lindsay Storm” on February 9, 1969 that was forecast to be primarily rain turned into snow—an inch per hour. The sanitation department was unprepared and slow to get plows out. Mayor John Lindsay took a political hit after some sections remained unplowed for a week.
On December 26, 2010, even though blizzard warnings were given, New York City officials were again unprepared for the nearly two-feet of snow. Trains were frozen to platforms, airports were shut down, and again, many streets went unplowed for days.
Los Angeles, California – It was rain, not snow, that paralyzed L.A. on December 23, 2010. The rain that fell during this one week was equal to half the annual rainfall--nearly 8 inches—for the downtown area. Outlying communities saw homes and cars awash in mud, hillsides melting into major highways, and tens of thousands without power.
Dallas, Texas – Though usually mild, winters in this ‘humid-subtropical’ place are occasionally hit by “Blue Northers” that sweep from north to south, dropping temps rapidly, sometimes into the single digits. Then a deep blue sky follows. If a Gulf of Mexico storm develops and interacts, as it did on January 10, 2011, it can disrupt schools, businesses, power grids, and airports.
We're not looking for such a storm as shuts down our world, but a little more snow wouldn't be bad. At least for the kiddies. #
Thursday, February 16, 2012
S-P-E-L-L-I-N-G
by Pat Laster
Spell “mosaic,” Ms. Laster.
“M-O-S-A-I-C.”
Correct. Last week, you know, you spelled it . . .
I know, I know! I noticed it as I was posting it onto my blog. I promise to do better.
On the subject of spelling: I recently sent an e-note to my sis and one word wouldn’t pass the spell check. On g-mail, it merely tells you what word(s) is (are) misspelled. The writer has to fend for him/herself to locate/guess at/ stumble upon the correct spelling.
After I tried several different spellings, and none of them took away the yellow from the word, I grabbed my torn-in-two dictionary and looked it up. Finally, I spelled “Provincial” as in French Provincial (a dresser) correctly. I had insisted (in my ignorance) on a “t” when it should have been a “c.”
A friend wrote back after my admission of the mosaic (mosiac) spelling gaffe, which he hadn’t noticed. He allowed that for him, “spell-check” was the greatest invention since sliced bread.
I remember that sometime during my schooling, I missed the word “concentration” on an oral spelling test/bee. I must have put an “s” where the “c” should have been.
When I was teaching, I attended a bee at the old Eastside Junior High, now Benton Junior High, and cringed when a gifted-and-talented student of mine misspelled “ninety.”
Collegian/grandson Billy is among the worst—admittedly—spellers around, though when we lived in Arkadelphia and drove once or twice a week to Benton to my job, I would coach him on his spelling words. I blame (faciciously, er facetiously—thank goodness, Jim, for spell-check in Word) the invented spelling with which first-second-and perhaps even third graders were allowed to use in their creative writing. Billy never quit using that system—and he’s a fourth-year Reddie!
Of course, with e-mail and texting shortcuts, this generation of students and probably the next one, will reinvent spelling altogether. Have you received these email forwards that have letters omitted from the words in the paragraph, and yet you can read them anyway?
I Googled “the most misspelled words” and yourdictionary.com obliged. Using one word in each alphabet letter, here is part of that list.
A – altar; B – bellwether; C – cemetery; D – definitely; E – existence; F – fiery; G – gauge; H – harass; I – its/it’s; J – judgment; K – kernel (colonel); L – liaison and lightning; M – misspell; N – noticeable; O – occasionally; P – pastime; Q – queue; R – relevant; S – sergeant; T – their/there/they’re; U- until; V – vacuum; W – weird; Y – yacht.
I added “xylophone” and “zucchini.”
A funny story lifted from the website alphadictionary.com:
The assistant Vice-President of Personnel notices that his boss, the Vice-President himself, upon arriving at his desk each morning, opens a small locked box, looks inside, smiles, and locks it up again. Some years later when the assistant is promoted to his boss's position, he comes to work early one morning and opens the secret box to see what was inside. He finds a single piece of paper on which is written: "Two Ns, one L." That's the way you spell personnel.
Here’s to correct spelling!
And forgiveness when misspelling occurs.
Spell “mosaic,” Ms. Laster.
“M-O-S-A-I-C.”
Correct. Last week, you know, you spelled it . . .
I know, I know! I noticed it as I was posting it onto my blog. I promise to do better.
On the subject of spelling: I recently sent an e-note to my sis and one word wouldn’t pass the spell check. On g-mail, it merely tells you what word(s) is (are) misspelled. The writer has to fend for him/herself to locate/guess at/ stumble upon the correct spelling.
After I tried several different spellings, and none of them took away the yellow from the word, I grabbed my torn-in-two dictionary and looked it up. Finally, I spelled “Provincial” as in French Provincial (a dresser) correctly. I had insisted (in my ignorance) on a “t” when it should have been a “c.”
A friend wrote back after my admission of the mosaic (mosiac) spelling gaffe, which he hadn’t noticed. He allowed that for him, “spell-check” was the greatest invention since sliced bread.
I remember that sometime during my schooling, I missed the word “concentration” on an oral spelling test/bee. I must have put an “s” where the “c” should have been.
When I was teaching, I attended a bee at the old Eastside Junior High, now Benton Junior High, and cringed when a gifted-and-talented student of mine misspelled “ninety.”
Collegian/grandson Billy is among the worst—admittedly—spellers around, though when we lived in Arkadelphia and drove once or twice a week to Benton to my job, I would coach him on his spelling words. I blame (faciciously, er facetiously—thank goodness, Jim, for spell-check in Word) the invented spelling with which first-second-and perhaps even third graders were allowed to use in their creative writing. Billy never quit using that system—and he’s a fourth-year Reddie!
Of course, with e-mail and texting shortcuts, this generation of students and probably the next one, will reinvent spelling altogether. Have you received these email forwards that have letters omitted from the words in the paragraph, and yet you can read them anyway?
I Googled “the most misspelled words” and yourdictionary.com obliged. Using one word in each alphabet letter, here is part of that list.
A – altar; B – bellwether; C – cemetery; D – definitely; E – existence; F – fiery; G – gauge; H – harass; I – its/it’s; J – judgment; K – kernel (colonel); L – liaison and lightning; M – misspell; N – noticeable; O – occasionally; P – pastime; Q – queue; R – relevant; S – sergeant; T – their/there/they’re; U- until; V – vacuum; W – weird; Y – yacht.
I added “xylophone” and “zucchini.”
A funny story lifted from the website alphadictionary.com:
The assistant Vice-President of Personnel notices that his boss, the Vice-President himself, upon arriving at his desk each morning, opens a small locked box, looks inside, smiles, and locks it up again. Some years later when the assistant is promoted to his boss's position, he comes to work early one morning and opens the secret box to see what was inside. He finds a single piece of paper on which is written: "Two Ns, one L." That's the way you spell personnel.
Here’s to correct spelling!
And forgiveness when misspelling occurs.
Thursday, February 9, 2012
Some Valentine poems for the “I heart you” crowd
by Pat Laster
This season, sappy to some, precious to others, is one of poetry. Poet’s groups’ February contests require “love poems.” Valentine cards abound with cheesy (for some), reaffirming sentiments for others. Poems, too, may be syrupy for some, yet dear to others. Here are a few for the ones who (ahem) “heart” this winter season.
To My Dear and Loving Husband, a poem whose author is the unknown Mrs. Anonymous, is selected in honor especially of Freeda and Gene Nichols, Jeanie and Roger Carter, Diane and Joe Stefan, Dorothy and Terry Johnson, Rhonda and Gary Roberts, and all other “still-in-love-after-all-this-time” couples.
“If ever two were one, then surely we;
If ever man were loved by wife, then thee;
If ever wife was happy in a man,
Compare with me ye women if ye can!
I prize thy love more than whole mines of gold,
Or all the riches that the East doth hold.
My love is such that rivers cannot quench,
Nor ought but love from thee give recompense.
Thy love is such I can no way repay;
The heavens reward the manifold, I pray.
Then when we live, in love let’s so persevere
That when we live no more, we may live ever.”
(found in THE JOY OF WORDS, J. G. Ferguson Publishing Company, Chicago, 1960, p 143)
Mark Tappmeyer, professor at Southwest Baptist University in Bolivar Missouri, writes what he calls in his 2005 book, WISECRACKING, poems that might “leave you wondering if he got the scriptures right or if he should be sent home from church.” Here is his
First Great Lover (Gen. 3:6)
“Noblest Adam, juiced on love,
took and ate.
He did not nibble on the skin
but sank his teeth
till droplets gathered on his chin.
His choice clear.
he’d fall with her—whatever
that should mean.
He’d be her surest love,
albeit into the wild beyond,
where thistles—whatever
they may be—sprout,
where he, undercover,
would never slump
into a feckless lover.”
Forever Love, written by Arkansas’s former Poet Laureate Verna Lee Hinegardner, uses the Minute pattern, which she invented, and which is now recognized nation-wide. She always delights in others printing her poems. This one is found in her latest and last book, MOSAIC.
“My wildest dreams of love came true
when you came through
that open door.
No time before
had Cupid’s arrow-piercing dart
stuck in my heart.
Forever love,
just like a dove,
flies low and coos a song of peace.
My love won’t cease
since every year
you grow more dear.”
Happy Valentine’s Day to all. #
This season, sappy to some, precious to others, is one of poetry. Poet’s groups’ February contests require “love poems.” Valentine cards abound with cheesy (for some), reaffirming sentiments for others. Poems, too, may be syrupy for some, yet dear to others. Here are a few for the ones who (ahem) “heart” this winter season.
To My Dear and Loving Husband, a poem whose author is the unknown Mrs. Anonymous, is selected in honor especially of Freeda and Gene Nichols, Jeanie and Roger Carter, Diane and Joe Stefan, Dorothy and Terry Johnson, Rhonda and Gary Roberts, and all other “still-in-love-after-all-this-time” couples.
“If ever two were one, then surely we;
If ever man were loved by wife, then thee;
If ever wife was happy in a man,
Compare with me ye women if ye can!
I prize thy love more than whole mines of gold,
Or all the riches that the East doth hold.
My love is such that rivers cannot quench,
Nor ought but love from thee give recompense.
Thy love is such I can no way repay;
The heavens reward the manifold, I pray.
Then when we live, in love let’s so persevere
That when we live no more, we may live ever.”
(found in THE JOY OF WORDS, J. G. Ferguson Publishing Company, Chicago, 1960, p 143)
Mark Tappmeyer, professor at Southwest Baptist University in Bolivar Missouri, writes what he calls in his 2005 book, WISECRACKING, poems that might “leave you wondering if he got the scriptures right or if he should be sent home from church.” Here is his
First Great Lover (Gen. 3:6)
“Noblest Adam, juiced on love,
took and ate.
He did not nibble on the skin
but sank his teeth
till droplets gathered on his chin.
His choice clear.
he’d fall with her—whatever
that should mean.
He’d be her surest love,
albeit into the wild beyond,
where thistles—whatever
they may be—sprout,
where he, undercover,
would never slump
into a feckless lover.”
Forever Love, written by Arkansas’s former Poet Laureate Verna Lee Hinegardner, uses the Minute pattern, which she invented, and which is now recognized nation-wide. She always delights in others printing her poems. This one is found in her latest and last book, MOSAIC.
“My wildest dreams of love came true
when you came through
that open door.
No time before
had Cupid’s arrow-piercing dart
stuck in my heart.
Forever love,
just like a dove,
flies low and coos a song of peace.
My love won’t cease
since every year
you grow more dear.”
Happy Valentine’s Day to all. #
Thursday, February 2, 2012
Fast forward to February
by Pat Laster
During the month of January when SWAMP TOUR replaced my usual visits with you—by the way, one reader asked me to continue doing serials; do I hear any reaction to that?--I have been busy around Couchwood and have been working on both A Compendium of Journal Jottings and the purported sequel to A Journey of Choice, whose working title is, well, The Sequel.
Collegian-grandson Billy was here—he has two homes now-- until mid-month and actually filled three trash bags of stuff from the organized chaos I call his room. During that time, he decided he’d like to have stew. “What is stew?” he’d asked earlier.
“Chunks of meat, potatoes, carrots and onions, thickened,” I answered. Schwan’s steak bites were deemed OK for the meat. I bought the other ingredients, including a package of brown gravy mix. (Never having liked nor prepared gravy, I cheated.)
Pulling out the crockpot-- a wedding gift way back in 1960--I prepared the meal. We had never eaten stew in the twenty-one years he’d lived with me. In fact, I don’t remember EVER making stew, period.
When Billy saw the carrots and onions, he turned up his nose. Guess who got to eat the entire recipe? (Over the span of a week, of course.) The gravy had thinned since I had to add water so it was more like chunky soup. His loss.
On a quick trip back from college to retrieve a package he’d ordered, I discovered that he was planning to make stir-fry for a college friend using chicken he’d taken from here, compliments of Schwan’s deliveryman, Turner. I provided half a red and half a green pepper and a small bottle of olive oil.
When I asked later how it went, he said it didn’t happen, but he had used the peppers another way. I will be glad to find out HOW.
I also have begun the arduous task of repainting the kitchen, one two-door cupboard at a time. The dark brown cabinets require at least two coats of beige paint.
I took off the hardware and carried the doors to the shed porch where I sanded and then painted them on an old drop-in sink unit, then let them dry on a pair of sawhorses Dad left when he quit carpentering.
I brought the small paint tray and two brushes inside, then, to cover the brown frame (two coats) and the yellow insides, which required only one coat. Oh, yes, I maneuvered the two heavy shelves off metal brackets and lugged them to the shed, too.
All the while, the items—both canned food and glass serving dishes were resting in plastic baskets on the countertop and covered against sanding grit. A worn-out store-bought quilt protected the space underneath the cupboard where I worked.
At this writing, one door is inside ready to be rehung, but the other needs yet a third re-sanding/re-painting for some reason. Let’s hope they rehang well.
Also, at this writing, a bouquet of early daffodils, a sprig of spirea, several branches of yellow-bell and japonica grace the dining table.
Surely we’ll get snow before this time next month.
c 2012 by Pat Laster dba lovepat press
During the month of January when SWAMP TOUR replaced my usual visits with you—by the way, one reader asked me to continue doing serials; do I hear any reaction to that?--I have been busy around Couchwood and have been working on both A Compendium of Journal Jottings and the purported sequel to A Journey of Choice, whose working title is, well, The Sequel.
Collegian-grandson Billy was here—he has two homes now-- until mid-month and actually filled three trash bags of stuff from the organized chaos I call his room. During that time, he decided he’d like to have stew. “What is stew?” he’d asked earlier.
“Chunks of meat, potatoes, carrots and onions, thickened,” I answered. Schwan’s steak bites were deemed OK for the meat. I bought the other ingredients, including a package of brown gravy mix. (Never having liked nor prepared gravy, I cheated.)
Pulling out the crockpot-- a wedding gift way back in 1960--I prepared the meal. We had never eaten stew in the twenty-one years he’d lived with me. In fact, I don’t remember EVER making stew, period.
When Billy saw the carrots and onions, he turned up his nose. Guess who got to eat the entire recipe? (Over the span of a week, of course.) The gravy had thinned since I had to add water so it was more like chunky soup. His loss.
On a quick trip back from college to retrieve a package he’d ordered, I discovered that he was planning to make stir-fry for a college friend using chicken he’d taken from here, compliments of Schwan’s deliveryman, Turner. I provided half a red and half a green pepper and a small bottle of olive oil.
When I asked later how it went, he said it didn’t happen, but he had used the peppers another way. I will be glad to find out HOW.
I also have begun the arduous task of repainting the kitchen, one two-door cupboard at a time. The dark brown cabinets require at least two coats of beige paint.
I took off the hardware and carried the doors to the shed porch where I sanded and then painted them on an old drop-in sink unit, then let them dry on a pair of sawhorses Dad left when he quit carpentering.
I brought the small paint tray and two brushes inside, then, to cover the brown frame (two coats) and the yellow insides, which required only one coat. Oh, yes, I maneuvered the two heavy shelves off metal brackets and lugged them to the shed, too.
All the while, the items—both canned food and glass serving dishes were resting in plastic baskets on the countertop and covered against sanding grit. A worn-out store-bought quilt protected the space underneath the cupboard where I worked.
At this writing, one door is inside ready to be rehung, but the other needs yet a third re-sanding/re-painting for some reason. Let’s hope they rehang well.
Also, at this writing, a bouquet of early daffodils, a sprig of spirea, several branches of yellow-bell and japonica grace the dining table.
Surely we’ll get snow before this time next month.
c 2012 by Pat Laster dba lovepat press
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