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SURPRISE!
Remember last week, when I issued a warning?
No, I wasn’t threatening anybody ... I was just trying to get the word out about this week ... more specifically, Friday, as it was expected to impact Saturday ... you know, that BIG DAY when everybody hops out of bed early and races to the computer to see what’s new on "Squiggles."
I didn’t want to induce widespread panic, so I didn’t announce that THE ELECTRICIANS ARE COMING! Instead, I just said very quietly that they would be converging on Brimm Manor to make some repairs and otherwise tweak our electrical system.
We were expecting to be without electrical service ALL DAY. Now how bad could that be for someone who grew up in the country with a kerosene lamp always at the ready?
Well, it sounded like a horrible circumstance. Without power ALL DAY? How could we possibly survive that? (Professor Squigglee is giving me one of those looks; he obviously thinks I’m making too much of this).
The main consequence, as I explained, was that “Squiggles” ... even if I could somehow manage to get it written, would likely never get posted. Not even late on Friday night as it usually is.
I even mentioned the possibility that we’d have to skip a week.
I know, there were a few sighs of relief at this ... it does get tiresome ... week after week after week ... right?
Well, the electricians didn’t come on Friday. It seems there was a scheduling problem ... so they’re coming NEXT week. Next Wednesday, as a matter of fact.
You don’t suppose they’re secretly “Squiggles” followers ... and didn’t want to miss an installment ... do you?
Anyway, here we are ... more or less ... with our usual Saturday morning appearance ... and Professor Squigglee and I hope you’re all in your places with bright, smiling faces.
-S&G-
MEANWHILE ... recent word from LOREE, Kansas, is that this is moving weekend for her.
You may recall that she has been in the process of giving up her home in the country and moving to town.
Loree, reacting to my early warning about the electricians bringing complications to Brimm Manor, said she’d likely be offline this weekend, too.
“One would almost think you planned it (the “Squiggles outage”) that way, to accommodate me! Thank you kindly!”
Well, Loree, as you may have discovered from my meandering explanation above, there’s no way I could take any credit for “planning” anything connected with this weekend.
As a matter of fact, the mere mention of the subject of moving brings back memories of many moves the Brimms have made ... the most recent being about 30 years ago now ... and we’re still looking for things that probably didn’t make the move with us.
It’s been my experience that a move never ends ... really never ends. There follows a period of adjustment, of course ... and our best wishes go to Loree as that adjustment gets underway ... and she goes about the business of unpacking ... and, with good luck, finding things again.
-S&G-
TODAY’S POEM - Mind you, I'm not advocating clutter, even though ... looking around as I write this ... I can see that a stranger might think I'm clutter's chief spokesperson.
I try. Oh, how I try not to clutter up the planet, at least in my immediate vicinity.
In my own defense, I must say that I don't toss litter out the car window ... I don't drop candy wrappers on the sidewalk ... in fact, sometimes, when I'm out walking, I pick up the occasional strayed aluminum can and deposit it in the nearest trash container.
But in my immediate vicinity ... here in the study at Brimm Manor ... there's just some invisible force which seems to be at work ... and I am powerless in its grasp.
Things just seem to pile up ... mostly poems in progress ... little notes I've scribbled along the way ... magazines that I really must read (some day) ... little watercolor sketches ... big watercolor sketches ... drawings ... notes to myself. Things like that.
Some days I seem to make progress ... but other days? Well, then it's like trying to sweep the ocean back with a broom.
But I promise you this (and it's not a political promise) ... I'll keep trying. Meanwhile, the poem (apologies to those who've seen it before):
CLUTTER, GLORIOUS CLUTTER
Someday I shall have room
for everything I possess,
all the room I ever dreamed
of having, room to lean back
casually and survey the vast
reaches of things collected
in years of serious pursuit
and delayed disentanglement.
But the jam-packed reality
of today is that I shift
cautiously among the poems
poised for avalanche, books
teetering on the brink
of revenge for being left
stacked like cold flapjacks
all these busy-busy years,
treasured items gathering
dust, clipped so long ago
from forgotten magazines.
So much of my past, perhaps
my future, too, nudging me
when I turn, bumping me when
I bend, skittering when
we touch, hugging me like
a lover just before the train
pulls out. And I stand here,
loving it all right back.
© 2000
(originally published in Nanny Fanny Poetry Magazine)
-S&G-
COMMENT? Feel free ... below, if you like.
Or if you prefer e-mail, that's fine, too ... especially for more detailed observations, to
rbrimm@peoplepc.com
... and it helps if you put "Squiggles" or "S&G" ... something like that ... in the subject line (just remember, no religion or politics ... please!)
-S&G-
And if you’d like to see what’s up with my other, DAILY blog, here’s a link to it:
http://rbrimm.blogspot.com/
Thanks for paying a visit.
-S&G-
UNTIL NEXT TIME ... take care ... see ya!
-S&G-
© 2010
Here I go, sprinting again.
Don’t worry, I’m not bursting out of the starting blocks and dashing down the track. I gave that up - well, a long time ago.
My sprinting now consists of setting the timer for 15 minutes - out of deference to my back, which seems to be considerably older than the rest of me - and then I park myself in front of the keyboard, fasten my seatbelt, and type as fast as I can for those 15 minutes.
The result, as some of you many already know, is that my tUping sometiems goes astrayay. You probably know what that’s like, if you do any “sprinting” yousef.
-S&G-
DON’T WURRY, though, after each sprint I take a brake to catch my breth, and then I go again. Sometimes I even come back to fixx the misteaks I’ve made. Sometimes knot.
And so it goes.
-S&G-
PLEASE MAKE A NOTE: “Squiggles” may be late next week ... or it may even skip a week.
(I can see that Professor Squigglee is scratching his head at what appears to be an “excused absence” - well in advance of the absence).
Let me explain.
Some of you may recall that we’ve had some minor electrical problems at Brimm Manor ever since that loud lightning bolt suddenly got my attention ... while I just sitting in the study, minding my own business, such as it is ...
Well ... TA-DA! ... the electricians are coming! That’s the GOOD news.
The bad news is that they’re coming next Friday ... as you know, Friday, much like today (Oh, today, as this is written, IS Friday, isn’t it?), is when I shift into overdrive in an effort to get “Squiggles” ready for the multitudes who set their alarms for early Saturday morning ... so, naturally, they will get to read it all while it’s still fresh.
That shouldn’t be a problem, you say?
I agree. But it appears that, as a result of their visit, we’re going to be without electricity ALL DAY, come next Friday.
-S&G-
HAD I JUST NOT given up my wood-burning word processor in favor of this electricity-driven model, there WOULD BE NO problem. I could simply transmit “Squiggles” in the form of smoke signals, and all would be well with the world.
But I’ll try to figure something out ... hopefully, short of going door-to-door to deliver the new installment.
-S&G-
JUST IN TIME ... this POSITIVE NOTE from HELEN, Florida: “Living on Earth is expensive, but it does include a free trip around the sun every year.”
-S&G-
TODAY’S QUOTE (courtesy of WALT, Ohio): “It is one of the most beautiful compensations in life ... that no man can sincerely try to help another without helping himself.” - Ralph Waldo Emerson
-S&G-
WORD FROM LOREE, Kansas, is that ... speaking of running for office (last week’s poem) ... she’s decided I’d be great being in charge of dog catchers all over Ohio.
(Well, Loree, let me think about that; my first impression is that I have a previous commitment ... yeah, I'm pretty sure I do)
Speaking of dogs ... she thought hers were barking just to be barking on a recent evening ... but she soon discovered that a family of raccoons had taken to helping themselves from the pan of dog food in the shop.
“Worse yet,” Loree reports, “there is a pan of water there, that at first I thought the cats were using for a bathroom. But closer observation showed that what I was seeing in the water was really dog food that the raccoons had been washing before they ate it. Unfortunately, the dog food softens in a hurry, and they couldn't get it out quick enough!”
-S&G-
LOREE ASKS: Do all poets write about politicians?
(I suspect they do, Loree)
“Back in about 2007,” Loree recalls, “town hall meetings were coming into their own as a place for politicians to reach out to the people, while listening to the same. Town hall meetings have a reputation for wild political promises, that cannot possibly materialize into much of anything worthwhile.
“I wrote a poem back then that I'd like to share with you. It's just as appropriate today as it was when I wrote it ... if not more so.”
Here’s the link to Loree's poem:
http://www.poetrybyloree.com/341.html
-S&G-
TODAY’S POEM: I was recently lulled into a sense of invincibility (OK, so I'm exaggerating just a bit) ... actually, I enjoyed the somewhat cool weather we were having ... though I found it a bit awkward trying to paint watercolors while wearing my mittens.
I try to speak cautiously about the weather, though. I know it will change suddenly, at the slightest provocation. This is Ohio, after all.
Story of my life.
The coolness ends suddenly, and the heat is back. Then as I sit at the sizzling keyboard at mid-morning, the temperature still rising, I can almost hear eggs frying on the sidewalks around town.
Summertime! It hasn't even started, and I'm already hoping for cool ... not COLD, mind you ... but cool, pleasantly cool weather ... ple-e-e-e-ase.
Meanwhile, today's poem:
SUMMER SHOWDOWN
Summer sun’s so boiling hot
I can almost hear the soft
clinking of spurs, stealthy
creaking of the boardwalk,
a sudden, smothering silence
in which the buzz of a fly
sounds sinister, foretelling
a showdown on the sun-baked,
hoof-pocked, clatter-plaited
street, where a tumbleweed
pauses in the sanctum of shade
cast by a tumble-down saloon,
where I stand, suddenly struck
by a lightning flash of thirst.
(originally published in St. Anthony Messenger; now part of a manuscript in search of a publisher)
-S&G-
COMMENT? Feel free ... below, if you like.
Or if you prefer e-mail, that's fine, too ... especially for more detailed observations, to
rbrimm@peoplepc.com
... and it helps if you put "Squiggles" or "S&G" ... something like that ... in the subject line (just remember, no religion or politics ... please!)
-S&G-
And if you’d like to see what’s up with my other, DAILY blog, here’s a link to it:
http://rbrimm.blogspot.com/
Thanks for paying a visit.
-S&G-
UNTIL NEXT TIME ... take care ... see ya!
-S&G-
© 2010
I’ll be brief.
Hey, you say, who is this guy? Where’s Bob? Or Professor Squigglee? Can we see some photo ID ... or how about a show of fingerprints?
Oh, it’s me, alright. But can I really be brief? Yep. Can I make it last? Nope.
But I’m trying very hard this time.
Bear with me.
-S&G-
FIRST, THE ROSES ... and it was a beautiful bouquet from LOREE, Kansas (thank you very much):
“First, I want to say I LOVE that poem (“Homecoming” in last week’s installment) about being back home after a vacation! I can just see it! And maybe that’s why I am such a poor traveler myself ... It is as hard on me (I’m nervous in traffic), and I feel sorry for the car ... It is asking an awful lot for it to carry such a load for miles and miles. Makes me wonder if cars like to see new and strange places.”
-S&G-
TODAY’S QUOTE: “Every time I venture out behind the wheel, I can’t help marveling at ALL THOSE DRIVERS out there, going right ahead and driving ... while waiting for brain transplants.” - Professor Squigglee
-S&G-
LOOKING BACK ... this time all the way back to MONDAY, November 3, 2003 ... when “Squiggles” was an e-mailed newsletter, plopping regularly into the electronic mailboxes of an estimated 51 readers in 15 states. That’s when I said: “YOU KNOW how I hate starting rumors ... or even passing them on ... but I think I saw BIGFOOT the other day ... ducking into a shoe store.”
-S&G-
QUICK UPDATE: Remember last week when Loree was watching with mixed emotions as her long-time home was being sold to the highest bidder?
And in my rush to share her account of that momentous event, I neglected to find out who the successful bidder was ... not that we would likely know them; just that we’re curious in such instances.
Well, it was the couple with the two busy-busy little girls. “Those little angels are evidently going to be raised in the country,” Loree relates. Then she adds something that many of us can relate with: “I love kids, for the most part, but it sure makes me glad I am not having to raise the new models!”
-S&G-
TODAY’S POEM - Don't worry. I'm not running for office.
Honest. I'm not planning any long-winded speeches, I won't be asking for money ... or even your vote ... and I certainly won't be making any promises I can't keep. I promise you that.
Then what?
Today's poem was written at another time ... in another place ... when and where it seemed that everybody else in the whole universe was vying for a position at the public trough.
It was a time when politicians were talking our ears off ... and dogs were barking all night. What a wonderful combination, I thought ... and there's no disrespect for dogs intended in that, I assure you.
If I WERE to be elected ... to anything ... it seemed to me at the time ... I would prefer to be the officeholder responsible for "mudging" curs (whatever that means) ... not the first time that a responsibility has been invented out of pure air (remember when we still had some of that?) ... in order to garner the votes of the undecided ... and unsuspecting ...
Well, from there it was strictly downhill ... and fast. But I had fun with the poem (remember, no disrespect for dogs intended). Here it is:
IF ELECTED
When finally I have
attained full growth,
I think that I
should like to be
a curmudgeon, which,
I'm told by my pal,
clear-eyed Ed,
is one who
mudges curs.
It's the least they
deserve for barking
all night at nothing
in particular while
decent folk are
pounding pillows,
trying to sleep,
but only attaining
grouchyhoodedness.
I promise, if elected,
not to be stingy
with my curmudgeoning.
(originally published in Parnassus Literary Journal)
-S&G-
COMMENT? Feel free ... below, if you like.
Or if you prefer e-mail, that's fine, too ... especially for more detailed observations, to
rbrimm@peoplepc.com
... and it helps if you put "Squiggles" or "S&G" ... something like that ... in the subject line (just remember, no religion or politics ... please!)
-S&G-
And if you’d like to see what’s up with my other, DAILY blog, here’s a link to it:
http://rbrimm.blogspot.com/
Thanks for paying a visit.
-S&G-
UNTIL NEXT TIME ... take care ... see ya!
-S&G-
© 2010
If you've ever sold a piece of property ... or even if you've just packed up as a renter and moved to a new location, I think you will identify with a recent experience of LOREE, Kansas.
But let's let her tell about it:
Somehow, I fell into a trance, Sunday ... for that was the day of auctioning off my home of twenty years. Very painful, and as scary as probably you feel, with the Saturday deadline for "Squiggles" straight ahead of you, and no time left.
(Loree, even Professor Squigglee gets nervous about that and starts pacing ... I can hear him now ... back and forth ... back and forth).
After several days of rain, Sunday afternoon saw the sun breaking through the clouds, though the hefty north wind raised goose bumps ... or maybe it was the approaching zero hour of 2 p.m.
In either case, I stayed inside the house, as the 'crowd' surged outside and gathered just off my little front porch, which, fortunately, is on the south side of the house, and therefore shielded them from that 'It's an ill wind that blows no good!' syndrome.
The windows were even open, and I was left standing inside the house, my ear glued to the screened window, so as not to miss anything.
The crowd consisted of three husky men, two of them auctioneers and the third, the 'clerk' or whatever title is bestowed upon them, my neighbor lady (there for obvious reasons ... to get a first look at her soon-to-be-neighbor!), my brother-in-law, and a dear friend from the senior center where I USED to go when I had the time.
Other than that? And this was the scary part ... one elderly couple who were interested in the place and wanted it badly, and a young couple with two little kids, who chased the cats, asked why my Jack Russell's tail had been cut off, and other pertinent questions!
The young couple had shown an interest in 'raising the kids in the country.' The thought crossed my mind that maybe they had been told to 'leave town' because of the kids?' Just kidding ... I was assured that they are no different than all the other kids their ages!
Anyway, only two bidders ... but that is all it takes when both are determined to have what they are bidding on. Starting at a mere $30,000 (which caused me to nearly pass out on the spot), the bidding jumped in increments of 10,000 dollars a lick, a sum that in itself, makes my eyes go tilt and my Pacemaker kick in!
At $70,000 I breathed a sigh of relief ... my 'goal' reached, I almost went limp and felt giddy.
But hold on ... the bidding wasn’t over! Like a car with brakes screeching, the bidding stopped and settled in just shy of $81,000.
And now the real work starts ... the packing, and if I'm lucky, I'll be able to find a few stolen minutes of my own, for a cup of coffee, and a slow look around, as I impress upon what mind I have left, images to last me forever.
(I know, this isn't the usual just-for-laughs kind of material you find in "Squiggles." In fact, I felt a strong emotional tug from Loree's experience ... turning loose of the place which was home for all those years. But I liked the feeling of "being there," and I liked her conclusion: Taking in those images which will stay with her now, wherever she goes. Oh, and who was the successful bidder, the older couple ... or the couple with those energetic kids? I forgot to ask.)
-S&G-
UPDATE - Brimm Manor is still not closed (electrical problems, remember?). We still have lights in part of the house, my computer is working (I’m the one who has low energy there), and help is on the way ... or so we’ve been told.
-S&G-
THERE MUST BE an election coming up in this neck of the woods. We’ve been getting a lot of calls from politicians ... rather, our answering machine has been getting a lot of calls (if we’re home and the phone rings, we’ve learned just to let the answering machine take the call ... saves us a lot of running ... and getting there too late anyway). Oh, and I don’t think the answering machine has decided which way it’s going to vote ... yet.
-S&G-
TODAY’S POEM - I think I tend to be too wordy. Not only in my poems, sometimes, but in my commentary, too.
Sorry about that.
Still, I do try to boil things down ... to reduce them to their essence. Readers are busy, in a hurry, have other things to do, so many other things calling for their attention.
I owe them some brevity ... and the more I talk about that, the less I'm giving them. Right?
What I started out to say was that the poem simply attempts to express the feeling that, while it's good to get away ... on a vacation, or even for a few days ... it's good to get back, too ... to be home again.
I could have said much more than that, but this was one of my very early poems, and I was under the mistaken impression that Capper's only published eight-line poems ... with short lines, at that.
For example, I could have talked about the curving gravel road leading to the barn on the place where I lived at one time ... about the lilacs and maples along that road ... about the big gray house ... the light in the window ...
More about that later, perhaps. For now, the little poem, the short version:
HOMECOMING
No matter how great
the vacation, there's
no sweeter song
than a quartet
of travel-weary tires
harmonizing
on the gravel
of your own driveway.
(originally published in Capper's)
-S&G-
COMMENT? Feel free ... below, if you like.
Or if you prefer e-mail, that's fine, too ... especially for more detailed observations, to
rbrimm@peoplepc.com
... and it helps if you put "Squiggles" or "S&G" ... something like that ... in the subject line (just remember, no religion or politics ... please!)
-S&G-
And if you’d like to see what’s up with my other, DAILY blog, here’s a link to it:
http://rbrimm.blogspot.com/
Thanks for paying a visit.
-S&G-
UNTIL NEXT TIME ... take care ... see ya!
-S&G-
© 2010
