Slice of Life | Reflections on the Teche

Archive for the ‘Slice of Life’ Category

Spice of Life: Inspiring Living Poets

Posted in Gifted Education, Poetry, Slice of Life, Writing, tagged Danusha Lameris, teaching poetry, writing workshop on September 26, 2023| 9 Comments »

Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.

Where did I read that we should be teaching living poets in our classrooms? I try to include poetry every day. This is a goal, but some days, as you well know, don’t go as planned. I’ve made a Google Slide Show for a Poem-a-Day, so I have a place to save poems I want to explore with my students. When I announced yesterday that we had time for poetry, my students were excited. I love this about elementary gifted kids!

First we read the poem through. Then I ask, “What do you notice?” I ask my students to notice 3 things about the poem. Using annotation on the smart board, I underline what they see and if they don’t, I name them.

I presented Danusha Lameris’s Small Kindness. I invited my students to write. They could borrow a line, make a list poem of small kindnesses, or write about their own topic using free verse.

I’ve long held the belief that I should write alongside my students. I also welcome their critique. Usually they just say, “I like it.” Then I know we need to work on how to offer critique with specifics such as “I like the way you used personification or metaphor or rhyme.” Naming the specific poetic elements.

Yesterday I was surprised when a student actually said, “I think it’s too clumped up.” As I questioned him further about what he meant, I realized that I read it like a paragraph, no line breaks. Danusha Lameris’s poem uses enjambment masterfully. She understands line breaks. It is definitely a skill I want to work on, and this student nailed it.

So I worked on it, revised, and will share today the current working draft.

Small Kindness

after Danusha Lameris

I’ve been thinking about the way
when I open a car door, and a little kinder kid jumps out,
how the driver says, “Thank you.”

How on the way to school, a white suburban slowed
to let me merge ahead.
How cinnamon bread, a gift from my neighbor
fills the kitchen with sweetness.

I want to believe everyone
is kind and thoughtful. I want to find grace

in the corner of the parking lot
waiting for me to notice her.
Margaret Simon, draft

https://www.flickr.com/photos/20705353@N00/3565199892

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Spice of Life: Charlie

Posted in Gratitude, Slice of Life, tagged Charlie, dogs, Ethical ELA, pets on September 19, 2023| 7 Comments »

Have you ever loved a dog? Or the more important question, has a dog ever loved you? Dogs tend to love without any conditions. Of course, they want their treats. Charlie would almost hyperventilate when it was pill pocket time. And how did he know to tell time? 6:00 AM and 6:00 PM, he would start with the begging.

“Lord, help me be the person my dog thinks I am.” I bought this bumper sticker years ago and taped it on the utility room cabinet. Charlie thought I was delicious. He wasn’t a face licker, but show him your bare toes and he would lick till it tickled.

Strangers were new friends to Charlie. The repairmen that visit our house look for Charlie so they can toss him the tennis ball. He would play ball 24/7 if you let him.

Charlie loved a walk. Sometimes he would get out, and the way I coaxed him back was showing him the leash and saying, “Petey’s here!” Petey was my mother-in-law’s dog and we walked together for years after my father-in-law died. These walks made Petey and Charlie best friends, and Anne “Minga” and I grew closer, too.

This week is Ethical ELA’s Open Write. When I read the invitation to write about food from Stacey Joy, I thought of the cinnamon bread my neighbor (and fellow dog lover) left at my back door. Another neighbor who I walk with these days, Shirley and her lab Claire, made me oatmeal cookies. If you’ve had a dog, you can relate to the empty feeling. When I get up in the morning, I go to the back door, turn the lock, and look for Charlie. He’s not there.

Charlie lived a wonderful life. We got him in the fall of 2007 and named him one of our boy names, after my grandfather Charles Liles. It was the perfect name. He was the perfect dog. I miss him, but I have no regrets. He was 16 and in renal and heart failure. He gave me the look that said, “Let me go.” I will sprinkle his ashes in the butterfly garden.

Cinnamon Bread

Lisa brought me cinnamon bread
when my dog Charlie died.
Shirley made oatmeal cookies
as though sweet carbs could fill
me, help me forget the lonely

walk without holding a leash,
opening the door without the wag of tail.

Can I take a taste inside
to keep sadness away?

Can I drop a crumb and not look
down for the dog to lick it up?

There are days he lived only to comfort me.
Little ankle licks to let me know I was loved.

Familiar becomes foreign
until time adjusts us,
keeps us upright
ready to be crushed again.

Margaret Simon (dedicated to Charlie Dog Simon)

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Spice of Life: Old-Fashioned Cards

Posted in Blogging, Gratitude, Slice of Life, Writing, tagged #gratitude, Blogging community on September 12, 2023| 8 Comments »

When was the last time you wrote a card or letter and put a stamp on it and raised the little metal flag on your mailbox? With emails and texts, it’s easy to send a quick message to a friend. But when someone is sick or going through a tough time, many (women for the most part) turn to the old-fashioned card in the mail. I have quite a collection of cards from my multiple health issues. And many of them came from my blogging community.

I recently got a notice from WordPress: Happy 14th Anniversary! I have been blogging for 14 years. When I started, I had no idea what I was getting into. A writer friend was doing it, mostly to review books. So I tried it out. Found Two Writing Teachers Slice of Life Challenge and through that community found Poetry Friday. I coordinate the Spiritual Thursday group and This Photo Wants to be a Poem.

All along the way I thought I was self-serving, getting my writing out in the world, craving comments and recognition. But something entirely unexpected and beautiful happened. I built a community of friends. Friends who see me, know me, care about me, and send me cards when I’m sick.

Today I celebrate You! You are a buoy, a gift of friendship, and my circle. Thanks for the comforting words, the beautiful cards, and especially for the thoughts and prayers. I am healing and taking each day step by step. I believe my experience will help me be a better friend to my widest of circles.

Cards left to right, top to bottom, from Connie Castille, Dani Burtsfield, Michelle Kogan, Linda Mitchell, Laura Shovan, and golden plant butterfly from Jan Annino.

(Message from Jan)

Down near the bottom
of the crossed-out list
of things you have to do today,

between “green thread”
and “broccoli” you find
that you have penciled “sunlight”
Tony Hoagland in How to Love the World

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Spice of Life: The Artists

Posted in Slice of Life, Writing, tagged #beingmamére, Major Jackson, narrative poem, The New Yorker on September 5, 2023| 17 Comments »

I often find that when I read poetry, I am inspired to write poetry. Yesterday I read the poems in August 28, 2023 issue of the The New Yorker. I loved Major Jackson’s poem The Nature of Memory. In this poem, he describes a happy memory using the specific names of his children. His final line grabbed me: “I hope they love themselves loud as that day,/ light-drunk, kicking up sand. I opened my notebook and poured out the story of Sunday afternoon as I observed my grandchildren Leo (4.5) and Stella (2.5), and their friend Nils, side-by-side creating their own art under the watchful yet permissive eye of my daughter. Did I ever allow such free art in my own children? I hope so.

Love Themselves Loud

I watch the side-by-side
play of toddlers. Leo like a turtle
crouched on the table laser-focused
drawing a rocket heading to earth, a round
blue and green ball. Stella paints her hands
pressing layers of color into a star of hands.
She moves

to her feet making them pink
like her beach shoes. Nils beside
her paints his hands and feet green–
his body a canvas for a green monster.

Later they come together
in toddler madness jumping from the top bunk.
“Only jump onto the bean bag.”
No one is injured before the game changes
to Lego building and pizza.

I hope they love themselves loud
as this day painting a landscape,
making their mark.
Margaret Simon, draft

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Spice of Life: These Hands

Posted in Gratitude, Poetry, Slice of Life, Writing, tagged anaphora, Denise Krebs, quick write on August 1, 2023| 9 Comments »

Inspired by Denise Krebs at “Dare to Care”, I am writing a quick post on my phone at a coffee shop near the beach. Denise’s poem begins with These hands.

These hands

are waving to the pelican above the waves

trying to stay hydrated in this heat

trying to love in a way that is welcomed

wise and whole

These hands have held hard

and gotten softer

with age and lavender lotion.

These hands reach out

for help and receive it in gratitude

knowing that grace is found

when gifts are held

precious in these hands.

Margaret Simon, draft

Bird of paradise, photo by Margaret Simon

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Spice (Slice) of Life: A Handmade Journal

Posted in Gratitude, Slice of Life, Writing, tagged handmade journal, Julie Burchstead, quotes on July 25, 2023| 8 Comments »

I have made so many true and talented friends in this world of blogging. In 2014, I met up with our Slice of Life bloggers for a face to face dinner at NCTE. There I met Melanie Meehan who bought a copy of my first ever middle grade novel Blessen and read it on her plane ride home. She wrote an email inviting me to join her writing group, and the rest is history, as they say. But Melanie is not in our group any more. (She is an active contributor to Two Writing Teachers.) Even though the writing group has changed faces, our bonds are strong. One of those 2014 members was Julie Burchstead. Julie and I have never met face to face. She lived in Vermont and then retired to Oregon, but we keep in touch through Facebook.

I kept seeing posts from Julie of beautiful handmade journals. I sent her a Direct Message, and she offered to make me one. (I did pay her.) The book is lovely, made of soft leather with a handmade butterfly button closure. vintage paper, spring flower binding, and 3 signatures of 98 lb. multi-media paper. (Yes, she wrote it all out on a notecard.) The braided thread wraps around and tucks into the button with a variety of beads, among them a silver bee and butterfly. She wrote, “May this journal always call your muse.”

So far I haven’t brought myself to scratch out a rough draft poem inside, but I am collecting quotes.

Thank you, Julie, for giving me something to comfort and inspire me.

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Slice of Life: Good Neighbors

Posted in Gratitude, Slice of Life, tagged #healing, cucumbers and watermelon, kindness, neighbors on July 18, 2023| 12 Comments »

When I was a little girl, I remember walking door to door to show my neighbors my skinned knee from a bike accident. You may have called me a “Boo Boo Queen.” I lived in Mississippi in the 70’s. We knew our neighbors. They all had kids around our ages. We played outside, ran through the water of the creek, chased fireflies, and rode our bikes from house to house putting on plays. Those were the days, or do they still exist?

These last few weeks I’ve been the ultimate Boo-Boo Queen following a major surgery, a hysterectomy. Recovery has been slower than I was led to believe, not because of anything more serious than basic body plumbing. It amazes me how all of that digestive stuff, gut health is so important to healing.

This recovery, however, has had some bright spots in it as I take a daily walk on my street. I feel closer than ever to my neighbors. I have come to understand that you have to let people help you. I know there will be a time when I will need to return the favor, so when next door Theresa asked if she could do anything, I sent her to the vet to pick up Charlie’s meds. Of course, when she returned, we got in a nice visit.

James picks up penny nails on the road. Later he counted more than 70 of them.

Yesterday I was walking and spotted a number of penny nails on the road. Perhaps some working crew had dropped them. I knew I couldn’t bend over for any length of time and pick them up, so I texted Jen and asked for one of her boys to come out with a ziplock bag. A simple act of citizenship turned into a math lesson for 9 year old James, a zine lesson for 5 year old Jerry (we wrote a story together), and an inspiring conversation with their young parents. God bless them. They are here from Indiana helping Jen’s mother cope with her father’s illness. Before my surgery, I took the three boys to a splash pad for some summer fun. After, they showed up at my door with fresh picked cucumber and a cake James made “by himself.”

Summer salad: Cucumber, watermelon, basil, mint, feta cheese.

With another cucumber from the neighbor’s garden, my husband suggested a watermelon and cucumber salad with dinner. I haven’t been eating much, but this idea made my mouth water. I texted another neighbor, Ric, to see if he had some basil and mint in his wife’s garden. In the late afternoon, I took another walk (figuring out that two walks a day are better than one for my recovery) and stopped at Ric’s. I came home with basil, mint, parsley, and some left over tabouli that another neighbor had made for Ric.

The list could go on. I am so blessed to live near friendly people who care about me, watch over me, and feed me. Do you have kind neighbors that sustain you?

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Spice of Life: Eulogy for a Uterus

Posted in Poetry, Slice of Life, Writing, tagged gratitude, Lucille Clifton on July 11, 2023| 11 Comments »

The title is not a typo. I saw Wilson yesterday. He had figs to offer. No better summer treat than fresh figs. And he thanked me for writing a “Spice of Life” about him last week. So I decided to make Slice of Life into Spice of Life in honor of his good mistake.

Two weeks ago today I had a hysterectomy. I’ve been amazed by the kindness of my circle. I’ve received flowers, cards, cakes, food, figs, and numerous other ways people have shown gratitude to me. There’s this interesting twist of things when one who is a caretaker becomes the cared for. I’ve had to loosen some control and let people help. I called my neighbor to pick up my dog’s meds at the vet. I allowed my daughter’s father-in-law to sweep my kitchen floor. It’s a weird space to be in. Needy. Grateful. Humble.

Last week, on the day of the surgery, I got an email writing prompt from The Fishbowl. Children’s author Kelly Bennet sends a 7 minute quick write each week. You can see the prompt here.

In my 7 minute writing response, I wrote a eulogy for my uterus. Each stanza is homage to each of my three daughters’ births.

Betty, Wilson’s wife, says I need to breathe in green gratitude to replace my uterus. I’m honestly not there yet. My body is still quite angry about the whole thing. Maybe next week, Betty? But I did, after a few critiques, take out the slaughtered pig reference.

My uterus was a vibrant thing
after Lucille Clifton

was an egg in a nest
of brambles and moss holding
a suckling embryo

was a vase for spring flowers
bursting forth in April
shouting to the sky

was a silk blanket
wrapped around the soul
of the wrongs of the world

did not walk out on me,
was taken for its uselessness
a holy sacrifice

I groan for all it’s grown
and known–
blessed womb.

Margaret Simon, June 27, 2023

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Slice of Life: Meet Wilson

Posted in Slice of Life, Writing, tagged Job's tears, Wilson LeBlanc on July 4, 2023| 9 Comments »

Wilson goes to my church, lives in my neighborhood, and is the father of my gynecologist. He’s a retired engineer from the sugarcane industry. A few years ago he gave me a bleeding heart plant that he had cultivated. I thought it had frozen this winter (sadly due to my neglect to bring it in for the freeze), but it is flourishing back. It seems to love the heat. Nevertheless, Wilson won my heart through this small gesture.

A few weeks ago, I was out on a morning walk, so I stopped by his house. He had promised to show me around his yard-nursery. I was immediately taking photos with my phone. Look at this gorgeous lotus blossom in a tiered fountain.

On a tour of Wilson’s backyard, he showed me a spot where he plants cuttings and plant pups. His wife Betty says, “These are his babies.” Then he showed me a young fig tree. He said it could be mine. The best time to plant them is in the fall, so I will be back to pick it up when the air turns cool.

The photo to the right is a grassy plant that produces little seeds called Job’s tears. Wilson picks the seeds and takes out the center which leaves a perfect hole for making beaded bracelets. I was honored to receive one of his bracelets.

Wilson makes beaded bracelets from multi-colored Job’s tears.

Wilson and Betty have transformed a backyard shed into a “winery” where Wilson experiments with different fruits for making wine. Betty said the hardest part is the waiting.

Wilson shines a flashlight and says, “This one’s close. Look at this color.”

Wilson reminds me that we should do the things we love. Grow and cultivate plants, make bracelets, create a new wine. Wilson has to be careful because of a back injury, but not long after his surgery, I saw him biking in the neighborhood. Keep moving. Be like Wilson.

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Slice of Life: So Many Stories Touch Me

Posted in Gratitude, Slice of Life, Writing, tagged #ENDALZ, #thelongestday, Alzheimer's, Dot Gibson on June 27, 2023| 12 Comments »

I’m joining a wonderful community of teacher-writers at The Two Writing Teachers Blog.

“There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.”
― Maya Angelou

A week ago, I “came out” on social media about my mother’s Alzheimer’s disease. I started a fundraiser for the Alzheimer’s Association. I’ve been overwhelmed by the response. With more than 40 donations, I have surpassed the goal of $1600 symbolizing the 16 hours of daylight on June 21st. Feeling helpless to do anything to stop the progression for my mother, the stories coming from others have touched me deeply and helped me to feel part of a loving community.

In Facebook messenger, when I finally figured out that J was a high school friend whom I haven’t seen in 44 years, I sent her a thank you message. She responded.

Hi Margaret, I was happy to make a contribution. Lewy Body Dementia stole my husband from me (18 months ago). Praying for a cure for any form of dementia. Blessings to you as you navigate this world with your mom.
J from Facebook Messenger

It took me a while to figure out the website, but donors are able to leave me a message. This one came from Linda Baie, a blogger whom I’ve never met face to face but have known online for years.

My husband died from Parkinson’s Disease but he, and I, also had the long journey of the secondary part, Parkinson’s with Lewy Body Dementia, so like Alzheimer’s. I’ve often thought of it as a long goodbye. Best wishes to you, Margaret, and to the family in your sad journey.
Linda Baie

The donations have come from far and wide, close family members to writing friends and even from a former student. When you reach out, come out with the truth, you never know that there are many people in the ocean with life vests to offer, stories of their own struggles connected to yours.

If you have an experience with Alzheimer’s or something similar, please leave a comment telling me your own story. You can also reach out by email or messenger. Our stories are important and connect us.