My parents went on a trip to Austria in March of 2004. On the train from Salzburg to Innsbruck, they took a photograph of this scene. My father did this pointillist drawing for his first in a series of Christmas cards. It proved to be one of the hardest to write about. The experience for them was magical, but when I think of this area of the world “Sound of Music” comes to mind. “The hills are alive…” and escaping Nazis. This scene is unblemished, yet the history scarred. Here is my attempt to capture this dichotomy.
Outside Salzburg May we all find peace, joy, and hope in Christ’s love.
From the train, snow-covered hills beckon
outside Salzburg. The whistle echoes.
Trees stand tall and barren.
Weary travelers stare in wonder.
Somewhere in the distance,
a child is torn from his mother’s arms,
a beggar reaches out with empty hands,
Somewhere, a woman grieves for her lost lover.
But here– on the road to Innsbruck–
a church glistens on the smooth,
unblemished snow, calling out
Let
there
be
peace.
“If you raise your children to feel that they can accomplish any goal or task they decide upon, you will have succeeded as a parent and you will have given your children the greatest of all blessings.”
Brian Tracy
I have raised three daughters. I am so proud of all three of them, but this weekend, I was especially proud of my middle daughter, Katherine. Growing up, Katherine played the usual sports: softball, volleyball, and soccer, but in high school, she injured her ankle and was unable to do sports. I never expected that she would be the first daughter to run a half-marathon. I talked to her about her experience and asked her to write about it. So, today, my guest blogger is my amazing daughter Katherine.
I knew I wanted to try to run something more significant than a 10K (6.2 miles), but needed something that would motivate me to really do it and not give up. My friends had done Team in Training, and I knew someone who worked there, and they said it was a great program, so I joined.
My entire journey with TNT was met with numerous obstacles when trying to find time to train and raise the money: vacation, new puppy, shorter days, rainy weather, iron deficiency….
My best run was definitely the 8 mile run with Dad over Christmas. We ran around town, and he told me stories the entire time, distracting me from the monotonous motion of continuous movement. He kept me talking, reassuring me that if I could talk, I could run a few more miles. This was the longest I’d ever run continuously.
The weather was horrible the two weeks leading up to the race. The Saturday before the race, however, was a beautiful day- sunny and low 70’s. I got out and ran 10 miles, stopping for water every 2 miles or so. It wasn’t a continuous run, and it wasn’t a very fast one, so I was still a bit discouraged.
I went into race weekend knowing that I hadn’t been as dedicated as I’d liked to have been, but I knew I had trained as much as I could with life going on and that I raised past my goal for LLS. I was excited but very nervous, not knowing how much I would be able to run on Sunday morning. LLS does an Inspiration Pasta Dinner the night before the race where we all get together, carbo-load and reconnect with the mission of TNT. The main speaker of the night, Jay, got up to speak about his connection to LLS and Team in Training. He was going to run the half-marathon the next day as well. He began speaking and a slideshow came up, showing images of a young red-headed girl. He spoke about his daughter Kayla, who was diagnosed with ALM Leukemia at 17 years old. He talked about her aggressive chemo treatments, her pain, her hair loss and his shaving his head for her. During her second round of chemo, she was feeling much better. Everyone in the room who did not know Jay thought this would be a story of healing. However, Jay then revealed that Kayla lost her battle with cancer in September of 2010. He has been running with Team in Training since, raising over $9000 in 2.5 years for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. There was not a dry eye in the room, and he received a standing ovation.
I woke up Sunday morning with shaking hands and put my running clothes on. I told myself that I just needed to pass the finish line. I hoped to maintain my training pace, 11:07, and finish between 2.5 and 2.75 hours. I had to run for over 2.5 hours straight!! The day was beautiful (but cold) and the energy was insane. Through the first 2 miles I was emotional, realizing how beautiful this day was and how lucky I was to be running this race, on this day, for this cause. Mile 3 and 4 were tough to get through, knowing I had so much more running to do. Once I got to miles 7, 8, and 9, I felt unstoppable. I was killing my pace and didn’t feel like I was dying. Once I got around mile 10, I was loosing steam. I approached a water station and grabbed a cup, stopping to drink it because I can’t drink and run. I didn’t know if I could make the next 3.1 miles running. Then I saw Jay. He ran past me with Kayla’s name across his shirt and photos of her on a poster hanging from his back. This was just the inspiration I needed, and I kept going. I finished with an average pace of 10:56 per mile and a time of 2 hours and 26 minutes. Absolutely one of the most amazing experiences of my life.
The bayou creeps closer and closer. A view from our back deck.
It’s been raining a lot. Last week, we only school for two days before we had two days off due to constant rain and flooding. The water has stayed a safe distance from my house, but the bayou banks are overflowing. I think this puts my pets into hibernation mode, but the outside animals, what do they do? Where do they go to find a warm, dry place?
I am not a fan of possums usually. They upset my dog and eat the cat food. They are downright ugly. But on Saturday morning, I watched one swim across the bayou and eventually climb up on our deck. I wrote a prose poem about his visit.
I watch a possum glide in this morning on the overflowing bayou.
Days and days of rain have flooded the banks and perhaps his nest.
Foraging, this common marsupial wanders–a scavenger exposed on an overcast winter morn. Minutes later, he appears on the deck. The dog goes nuts, barking in the screeching voice of a teenager attacked by a wasp. But the possum—unfazed—doesn’t notice the commotion.
He is on a mission, his long snout waving back and forth,
back and forth. I laugh at his comic book white face and pink nose as he swaggers away, probably laughing, too.
Sunset at Lake Martin, photographed by Leon Henry.
My pipe is out, my glass is dry;
My fire is almost ashes too;
But once again, before you go,
And I prepare to meet the New:
Old Year! a parting word that’s true,
For we’ve been comrades, you and I —
I thank God for each day of you;
There! bless you now! Old Year, good-bye!
–Robert William Service, The Passing of the Year
I thank God for each day of 2012. But today, I say hello to 2013.
Last night as I was drifting off to sleep with the pop, bang, boom of our neighbor’s fireworks, I was thinking about the night creatures. What do they think about this silly human tradition of setting fire to the sky at night?
Where do the owls go
when you set the sky on fire
with your loud, booming works?
Drowning out the who of my nighttime friend,
you celebrate intolerably, sending flares,
screaming as if chased by a bee.
This noise just can’t be right.
Where did the owls go tonight?
Read other Slice of Life writers at The Two Writing Teachers
Over at Two Writing Teachers, New Year’s Day Slices of Life are being collected. We have been challenged not to set New Year’s resolutions, but to select One Little Word to live by this year. This has been a challenge for me because it’s not really a word that I want, but an attitude. I want to value my work, whatever that work may be. I want to see it as significant to the greater good. But I want to be gentle with myself at the same time. So this year, my one little word is acceptance.
In William Zinsser’s book On Writing Well, he speaks of the audience for your writing: “It is a fundamental question with a fundamental answer; you are writing for yourself. Entertain yourself. You are who you are, so relax and say what you want to say.” So, to whoever is reading today, I am here on Jan. 1, 2013 to declare a new attitude. Acceptance!
As usual, I am up early on Christmas morning. I woke up with the storm and now I am listening to the rain and cuddling with Charlie, my schnoodle who is afraid of storms. Soon the hustle and bustle of opening gifts and eating dinner with family will interrupt this silence. We need both, silence and noise.
Last night at the Christmas Eve service, we had quiet prayer and joyous hymns. I love singing at Christmas time because I know all the words and all the alto parts. Having all three girls home makes the house loud and busy. I love this, too.
But the quiet is where I find God. This early morning Christmas, I pray for the families of Sandy Hook victims. May they find peace. I remember those who are absent from our own family. And I pray that this day will fill our hearts with enough love to block out all the evil in this world.
I have given myself a writing challenge this season. My father has been creating a Christmas card each year for the last 9 years. I have the collection on display. I am attempting to write a poem for each one. Inside each card, he wrote a biblical message. I use this message as an epigraph.
John Gibson, 2008
Out of Egypt
“Out of Egypt I have called my Son.”
Out of
the cool dark night
in the midst
of old tales,
myths of Egypt,
land of Kings,
I hear His voice–
a whisper–Go.
Take my Son,
Embrace hope.
Go.
–Margaret Simon, all rights reserved
Read other Slice of Life writers at The Two Writing Teachers
I hear their names.
My heart aches,
Tears form.
Tears of fear
or cleansing, prayerful,
hope-filled streams?
I cannot bear to look
at the smiling faces
at the ball park,
on a swing-set,
with the family on the beach.
They are the kids next door,
the little boy at the grocery store,
my very own students.
They are us, and we are them.
Our lives are forever changed.
Now I will lock my classroom door.
I will teach my students to stand
against the wall,
be still and quiet,
in lock down.
No words.
No reasons.
The names–remain.
This weekend I was invited to read at a festival in Arnaudville, a small town about 40 miles north of New Iberia. The drive to Arnaudville along Highway 31 follows the curving Bayou Teche. Years ago, I drove this same highway to a fiction writing workshop. It was in this workshop that I wrote the first chapter of Blessen. The workshop took place in NuNu’s, an arts collective with a performance area and a cafe in the back. The building sat on a high ridge near the bayou. A few years ago, the place burned. Now Nunu’s is housed down the highway in a large old lumber company building. Walking into the place, you step back in time on long leaf pine floors and high ceilings. You look out onto endless rice fields. I felt a sentimental connection to this birthplace of my first novel. And it was here that I connected with new friends who write.
Clare Martin organized the event in conjunction with the Fire and Water Festival “Le Feu et l’Eae.” (All festivals in South Louisiana have French names.) She titled the readings, “Words of Fire, Words of Water.” I felt privileged to be among the readers. Clare read from her recent book of poetry, Eating the Heart First. I felt an immediate connection to this woman who has turned her grief into beautiful poetry. Talking to her after the reading, I shared something about not expecting to sell many books that day. (I sold 6! A good day!) Her response was so encouraging.
Each success no matter how small in practice of what I love is a lightning strike against the dark.
I loved this! Another woman-writer-friend, Chere’ Coen, (See her blog post about the event.) gave me a Gris Gris bag for courage. And guess what symbol it had on it? A lightning bolt! More synchronicity.
The gris gris bag for courage with Clare’s book of poetry, my prizes from Words of Fire, Words of Water.
Traveling home from the lovely day in Arnaudville, (not to mention, after a delicious catfish po-boy, hazelnut latte, and double-chocolate cake ball) I felt full. I was full of the spirit that brings us life and creativity and art.
This poem by Clare L. Martin moved me to tears:
ICE TO WATER
The hospital room is cool.
There are moths in your breath.
Circled in ice, you’re enwrapped in white fire.
Coffee-colored urine drains in a bag.
I swab your lips with lemon glycerin.
Your pulse beeps loss. I buzz a nurse out of the void.
I cannot watch you die.
The doctor scowls at my cowardliness.
Stunted from birth, plucked too early—
You were wingless.
It took me years to believe it wasn’t my fault
you despaired in an infant’s life.
I choose blue for the burial
like the thunderhead in your eyes.
The undertaker powders the fine
hairs of your face, seals you in secret.
First published in The Dead Mule School of Southern Literature
Reprinted by permission from the author
Last week, Thanksgiving week, I was introduced to the “thanku,” a haiku thank you poem. Today, I introduced the idea to my students. Since I teach gifted kids, I had to give them a challenge. Since haiku originally was a style of poetry that not only used a set syllable pattern (5,7,5), but also used the theme of nature, I asked them to include a metaphorical use of nature. And, of course, I modeled with my own poem. This one I wrote for a friend.
Sunflowers open
to see the world around us
like your heart to mine.
Some of my students took on the challenge. Most of them chose to write to teachers. It was sweet watching them type up their poems, find just the right graphic, and print them out to give to their favorite teachers. At the very end of the day, Kylon slipped me this little gift of a thanku. My heart melted.
The seed of a rose
You sprout your knowledge like roots
We share our petals.
On the Two Writing Teachers blog this morning, I found these quotes:
“Walk through life like a writer.” –Lucy Calkins
“Tell the truth about your life and what’s really going on.” –Georgia Heard
“We know the truth of ordinary life events. Everything doesn’t end with ‘happily ever after’.” –Georgia Heard
I needed to hear all three. My ankle hurts. In our family when you complain like this, we call you (me) the “Bo-bo queen.” Something about annoying pain of an integral body part has made me thus. I am grateful for my new doctor-friend who fixed me up yesterday with an ankle brace and some powerful anti-inflammatory drugs. But I struggled with a blog post for this Tuesday slice because I didn’t want to whine, but I was unable to come up with something to write about. And then, this morning I read the wise words from Georgia Heard, “Tell the truth about your life and what’s really going on.” So I’m here letting you know that my ankle hurts.
But also, I am thankful.
Teens from St. Barnabas youth group gave out candy-filled mugs in holiday wrap.
Every Tuesday morning I serve at our church’s outreach mission, Solomon House. This morning was filled with joy. Teens from a youth group showed up with bins full of mugs wrapped in holiday wrapping to give out to the clients. The clients lined up all along the sidewalk. Each of them greeted me with kindness. What do I have to complain about? Nothing. The truth is there are many hurting people out there. They heart in mind, body, and spirit. I can look them in the eye with true love and gratefulness.
Another slicer, Linda B. at Teacher Dance, introduced me to the thanku movement led by Teaching Authors. A thanku is a haiku of thanks. Here is my attempt to capture the morning:
Many hands spread joy
Many hands give thanks for you
Walk your path in peace,
knowing this.
This was my first year to participate in the Festival of Words in Grand Coteau. Grand Coteau is a small historical town about 35 miles north of New Iberia. This summer I met and chatted with Patrice Melnick, author of a new memoir Po-boy Contraband and owner of an artisan shop, Casa Azul. In late September, she hosted a reading and book signing for me. We made a connection, and she invited me to come back for the Festival of Words. I loved the feel of her place, artsy and comfortable, and the feel of the town with the main street lined with Cajun cottages.
The Festival of Words began with an awards ceremony on Thursday evening for the winners of the writing contest. I was privileged to have a student winner, so I picked her up after school, and we drove the hour to the Sunset library, just west of Grand Coteau. She commented that she loved the name of the town “Sunset.” At the awards ceremony, I introduced my student to two state poets laureate, Darrell Bourque and Julie Kane.
My student poetry winner meets the current state poet laureate, Julie Kane.
Following the open mic when students read, we enjoyed two performance poets, Bonny McDonald and Chancelier “Xero” Skidmore. Here is a video I took of Bonny’s performance of “To A natural in E flat.”
On Saturday, I ventured back to Grand Coteau and the Festival of Words. I attended a fiction writing workshop with Randall Kenan. The workshop was small and intimate and we wrote and talked and wrote and talked, the best kind of workshop to me. In the afternoon, I attended Julie Kane’s poetry workshop. Again it was a small group. She talked to us about forms and had us try out combining a praise poem with using the same first word in each line. We brainstormed ideas for mundane things to write about. We wrote about fingernail clippers, mosquitoes, and a volume knob. I wrote about grass. I was actually satisfied with the result.
For today I will step lightly
For your tenderness
For the light of sun upon your greenliness
For tickling my belly
For wriggling between my toes
For your fresh sweet scent
For the settled earth you draw strength from
For your canvas of wildflowers
For clover crowns
For hiding rolly-pollies, fleas, and snakes
For grass.
I wish I had stayed for more readings, but the day was growing long, and my mind weary, but I’ll be back next year.
Students from area high schools did drive-by poetry. Here a student reads aloud a poem by Julie Kane to Julie Kane. She delighted in hearing her own poems performed by these talented students.
Margaret Simon lives on the Bayou Teche in New Iberia, Louisiana. She is a retired elementary gifted teacher who writes poetry and children's books. Welcome to a space of peace, poetry, and personal reflection. Walk in kindness.
Reflections on the Teche 