Jabberwocky, by Lewis Carroll (1832-1898)

"Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe."

"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!"

He took in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.

"And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!"

"Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the momeraths outgrabe."

Favorite PIctures

Favorite Pictures

Missing Town by, Myself

Shadows play across the late kaleidoscope of mid-day. I draw the thin, white curtain over the watery glass window that sits almost ajar in its wooden frame. Now there are two, two children at war. I cry with shame. What does our community offer but sending children off to war. In the shadows of my milky tea, I feel a mother’s pain. My boys are two and not yet four. What kind of war will carve out their futures? What battle will the world bestow on them, to make them men? We are a small community, no more than a thousand. Factory workers live and work here in the paper factory with its tall cylinders pointing like rocket launchers towards the sky. This is it, the paper factory and taverns. It is over two hundred miles to the nearest city. We are almost all poor. We tell our children to grow up and become more. Make your fortunes, grow bigger than us, get your education. Then along comes a war. The GI bill looks appealing to young men and women brought up by rough hands and too much beer.

I think of our life here. My husband is a teacher, a pacifist by nature and position. Shadows fall across the rough floor boards in my kitchen. The faint last glimmers of sun, steel themselves slowly into the gray sky. Soon the afternoon is dark and ghostly.

My husband arrives home shortly after 4:00pm. His pallor is stony. The Jenkins’ have lost another child. Now one son is dead and the daughter is MIA. I stir the bubbling stew. Slowly, methodically as my mind churns blood red. It is the image of anger. Nothing can erase the band of death, the wounded in a small town like ours, a wheelchair at age 23, legs missing at 20, dead at 19. The news tells us it is not that bad. The news tells us that it is not that bleak. The news does not live here.

This morning there were two, now there is one, only one child from this town still in the war. Will they survive the death trod march? The odds are not good.

Book Recommendation of the Month

This book is laugh-out-loud funny. I got many useful tips for managing life from reading this book including the following:

1) Practical advice for how to upgrade to first class when travelling with your father

2) What to do when well-meaning friends insist on sending you pictures of their pets that you really don't care to see

3) How to be prepared when you are stranded at an eatery that only serves beer and wine

4) The etiquette of re-gifting with friends

...and much, much more. So for a great light read that keeps you laughing, I would recommend this book.

Favorite Pictures

Parenting

Parents these days really need to get a grip. Where have all of the normal parents gone? By normal I mean the ones that aren't so immersed in the lives of their children that they no longer have an individual identity. This seems to be especially true for mothers. I am not against staying home with your kids and I am not against going back to work full-time or part-time. I think that the mommy wars are a media invented frenzy designed solely to sell more publications. Whatever you decide to do in terms of your own employment, try to let your kids figure some things out for themselves. Frequently I am exposed to mothers who proudly proclaim, "I am home with him/her full time and they are an only child." They say this as if this is a good thing, to be home and constantly involved with your child when the child is four or five years old. Don't get me wrong, I have struggled with urges to control all aspects of my children's destiny as much as any other parent. The difference is that I think I am at least aware of this and try to control it.

I see mothers with children that are nine and ten years of age at school drop off every morning. They pull up into the drop off lane, get out of the car, open the door for their older child, help them out of the car, make sure that the coat is buttoned and that the child has their band instrument and backpack, and kiss them goodbye before waltzing slowly back to the driver's side looking all the while to make sure that their baby makes it safely across the 500 yards that they have to cross in order to get into the school building. This is really ridiculous. I know parents who cannot commit themselves to anything further than 10 minutes away from their child's school in case the child needs them during the day. I always have to wonder why these parents aren't home schooling. That way, their child would never have to leave home during the day and they wouldn't be stressed about not being immediately available.

It perplexes me, these parents who don't want to let go, think that their children can't make it on their own at school, or need constant parental guidance yet they don't willingly take on the job of their child's education at home. It would make more sense if they just did it themselves rather than parading their doubts and worries in front of the rest of us. Maybe some people just like to be a...Martyr.

In praise of parents who want to have their own identity and who actually enjoy having time away from their kids, I would like to recommend my very favorite parenting book, "The Three-Martini Playdate: A Practical Guide to Happy Parenting," by Christine Mellor.