Grandpa Will Getcha

(one of my paintings, "Splash!" ... now in a private collection)


OCTOBER!


Can you believe? Here we are in October. And it seems like only yesterday ... maybe the day before ... that it was still September. How time flies, though, when you travel tourist class, like I do.


One of the reasons, I suppose, is that it has just been party, party ... 


Most recently it was a birthday party for LAUREL, Ohio, who enjoys poetry, relishes sharing it with others ... has a great gift for memorizing and delivering poems ... and regularly opens her home to a small group of poetry lovers. 


Phyllis and I have been privileged to sit in with the group ... and, despite my tendency to share mostly stuff I’ve written myself, we’ve been invited back. And we’ve gone.


But back to the birthday party.


It featured some poems written to honor Laurel on her ... well, on her birthday (and I’m not going to say which one it was). 


Among other items, it featured cupcakes ... and one ... count it, ONE ... candle, which she extinguished with dispatch, after giving a bit of thought to the requisite wish. 


And then we dived in. 


Even I was allowed to indulge, after a fashion. As some of you may know, I was formerly known as The Cake Man. Formerly, that is, because my doctor found out ... based on some tests I took without studying for them ... that sugars are not good for me ... therefore, all my favorite foods were transferred to the DO NOT EAT list. 


Ah, but I did get to have one cupcake, the body of which had no sugar in it. Sadly, though, I had to chop off the icing (formerly akin to a capital offense, as far as I was concerned) ... and then I could gulp down the goodie.


Some weeks prior to this festive occasion at Laurel’s, I had celebrated my own birthday ... and I’m not saying which one that was, either. If you’ve lost count, you’ll just have to ask around, but don’t ask me.


Anyway ... on the occasion of my own birthday, I was presented, not just a cupcake, but a whole cake (Ok, so it wasn’t ALL just for me). 


The big news was that this particular cake was made by our grandson, Thomas, who had arrived with his parents to help me celebrate. He had a little advice, yes, and his Mom gave him a helping hand at one point, but the production ... and it was a beauty ... was basically all his.


AND IT WAS ALL SUGAR-FREE!


Delicious, too. We still have a few slices left, carefully wrapped and frozen ... and I had a nibble just before I sat down to write this. I’m still (pardon me) drooling. In fact, I might just sneak back down to the fridge tonight and ... mmm, see how many pieces are left.


-S&G-


THIS JUST IN ... from HELEN, Florida ... Subject: A Paraprosdokian


“A paraprosdokian is a figure of speech in which the latter part of a sentence or phrase is surprising or unexpected in a way that causes the reader or listener to re-frame or reinterpret the first part.”


For example:


To be sure of hitting the target, shoot first and call whatever you hit the target.


Or:


A bus is a vehicle that runs twice as fast when you are after it as when you are in it.


Or:


Change is inevitable, except from a vending machine.


-S&G-


Courtesy of WALT, Ohio ... "The statistics on sanity is that one out of every four persons is suffering from some sort of mental illness. Think of your three best friends - If they’re okay, then it’s you."


-S&G-


TODAY’S QUOTE: “We could certainly slow the aging process down if it had to work its way through Congress.” - Will Rogers (courtesy of WALT, Ohio)


-S&G-


TODAY’S POEM ... Okay, maybe I'm rushing the season a bit ... or maybe I'm late ... or maybe I'm a bit confused (so what else is new?) ... I seem to be bumping into a lot of pumpkins these days ... but I'm also seeing what I would consider Christmas items on display in some of the stores.


We are approaching Halloween, aren't we?


One of these years, I suppose, all of the designated commercial holidays will be combined into one giant celebration ... taking up a whole week ... or maybe a whole month ... or how about the entire year?


Be that as it may ... this poem, based on an early frightening experience, is further evidence of why I write very few rhyming poems – and perhaps shouldn't attempt any. 




I keep telling friends and fellow writers that I find it very difficult to advance the story line while maintaining even a semblance of meter and rhyme. It's true. So true. 


To borrow a phrase, it's hard work. Really hard work.




But, with much labor in this instance, the dirty deed was done. The poem was sent out to mingle with strangers, found a friend at one magazine, and was published.


The poem:




GRANDPA WILL GETCHA


It was a dark Halloween night
With nary a goblin in sight,
No place to go, nothin' to do.
Where to turn, I hadn't a clue.


But wait! My brain just clicked on:
SOAP A FEW WINDOWS flicked on,
And quickly it was bar to pane,
Making abstract strokes, in the main.


Then, looking in, what did I see?
My Grandpa, looking out at me.
No little smile did he bestow
As he swiftly took me in tow.


So with a pail and a wet sponge
My fine art I had to expunge
Till the windows were far cleaner
Than they had been. My demeanor?


Subdued now. A tad smarter, too:
Soaping our own was dumb, it's true,
And getting caught was SO SCARY
The next time I was more wary.

(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-


If you’d like to see what’s up with my other, DAILY blog (no, this is not my “Home Page”),  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

Autumn Dreams

It was bound to happen, I suppose.


You know how it is. If you’re easily led ... as I seem to be, judging from the trails I’ve been taken down by various groups, and individuals ... then, chances are, you’re likely to find yourself in the midst of, well, another crowd.


And so it was that I recently ended up in a field beside a busy highway ... staring at what must have been four or five acres, containing close to a million ... had to be at least that many ... SUNFLOWERS, all in full blossom ... and all staring at me.


Well, I was staring right back.


You see, I was there with a group which meets in various locations with the intent of using watercolors to paint a representation of what they see ... and it’s really interesting to see how many interpretations emerge from such an encounter.


I was overwhelmed. How could I possibly paint the portraits of so many shining faces? 


I couldn’t. I had all the physical equipment, a folding stool, a small easel, watercolors, water ... oh, lucky me, I remembered to bring some water ... watercolor paper, brushes, paper towels (for the inevitable spills) ... I had it all.


Except. I really didn’t know where to begin. But I couldn’t let that stop me, right? So I picked a nearby trio and did a “family portrait” of them. It only took me a couple of hours ... and I really didn’t have a finished painting, but the other painters were picking up, folding up, tidying up ... and getting ready to leave.


I wasn’t about to stay where I was so vastly outnumbered ... even if it WAS just a field of sunflowers ... so I gathered up my stuff, too.


On the way back to the car ... yes, Little Red was still waiting for me, as was Phyllis, who had kept me company on the drive over ... helped me set up, then busied herself with some reading material ... and THEN helped me “break camp” ... well, on the way back to the car, I saw a scene I wish I had spotted on the way in:


Imagine, if you will, all these thousands, maybe millions, of sunflowers all facing in the same direction ... toward the sun, naturally ... and there was ONE, standing in front of them ... facing THEM ... like a choir director ... or maybe like an awkward teen-ager, saying to himself: “Why is everybody staring at ME?”


-S&G-


Oh, there was one other point of interest in this outing: Someone with at least a slight sense of humor had outfitted one of the sunflowers with a pair of sun glasses ... and, if I pushed the right buttons on my camera, you’ll see that “portrait” above. If not, well, just take my word for it this time.


-S&G-


This from RUTH, Florida/Ohio: The difference between the North and the South - Don’t be worried about understanding what people are saying. They can’t understand you either. The first Southern statement to creep into a Northerner’s vocabulary is the adjective “big’ol’ truck” or “big’ol’ boy.” Most Northerners begin their Southern-influenced dialect this way. All of them are in denial about it.


-S&G-


This from WALT, Ohio: Why do people keep running over a string a dozen times with their vacuum cleaner, then reach down, pick it up, examine it, then put it down to give the vacuum one more chance?


-S&G-


This from HELEN, Florida: A grandmother was telling her little granddaughter what her own childhood was like: “We used to skate outside on a pond. I had a swing made from a tire ... it hung from a tree in our front yard. We rode our pony. We picked wild raspberries in the woods.”


The little girl was wide-eyed, taking this all in. At last she said, “I wish I knew you sooner, Grandma!”


-S&G-


TODAY'S POEM: I write a lot about rain ... because I grew up in a time and place where it was vital ... not just for lawns and flowers ... but food, too. Oh, what sweet music ... the sound of a gentle rain on the roof ... or rustling the leaves of the tree outside my bedroom window ... the sound of plump drops plopping against the window.




I hope I've caught some of the feeling ... the mood ... with today's selection ... originally published in St. Anthony Messenger:




AUTUMN DREAMS


Softly, the rain
descends, puddling
in the darkly
glistening street,
pausing to quench
the thirsting roof
before dripping,
a muffled sighing,
to the ground.
Wind chimes stir,
and the cows
are suddenly home,
winding along
that narrow path
where the sun
lately streamed.
I stir, savoring
quilted warmth,
softness of pillow,
go drifting off
again like a puff
of milkweed.


-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-


If you’d like to see what’s up with my other, DAILY blog (no, this is not my “Home Page”),  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

At the Flower Show

You have probably heard of Phyllis ... long-suffering Phyllis, in some circles (because she’s put up with me for ... ummmm ... a l-o-n-g time) ... well, she’s also a good citizen. 


I’m sure she was a good citizen long before she knew me ... and has remained a good citizen, despite my corrupting influence over the years. She stops at STOP signs ... she obeys speed limits ... and she doesn’t jaywalk, even when I do.


Being a good citizen, and knowing that our public servants, busy as they are, can’t keep up with all the details of their jobs without a bit of help from the rest of us ... she sometimes gets on the phone to be helpful.


For example: There’s a street light a few doors down from Brimm Manor which occasionally starts acting up, as though it might have an accessible switch on the pole ... and the neighborhood kids might be playing games with it.


Phyllis called the proper number and found herself addressing a representative of the utility company:


Phyllis: Yes, I’d like to report a street light that keeps going off and back on.


Utility Rep.: Oh, that’s called ARCING.


Anyway, off and back on ... or ARCING ... the street light was fixed, and worked fine for a few years. Then recently ...


Phyllis called the utility company again, taking care to be quite precise as to the problem, and the conversation went something like this:


Phyllis: Yes, I’d like to report a street light that’s ARCING.


Utility Rep.: Oh, you mean it’s going on and off?


-S&G-


At this point, if Professor Squigglee weren’t so deeply involved with an afternoon nap, he probably would jump in with the observation that ... while we may all seem to be speaking the same language ... there are many times when we really aren’t.


-S&G- 


“TALK ABOUT frantic Fridays,” says an e-mail from LOREE (Kansas) ... my own frantic day can be any day of the week, when I get enough warning that company is coming.


“And last week I spent the entire weekend cleaning, cooking, making everything just right for guests again. Had company from Tuesday through Friday, and when they were gone, I felt like a deflated baloon.


“What I fell short on for entertainment, they made up for. We had a great bunch of card games ... in fact, seemed we were either eating, playing cards ... or sleeping both of those OFF!


“A bit of extra excitement ... when he locked BOTH sets of keys inside the pickup ...


“Inspiration struck when he told us that he could open the door with his cell phone. Well, imagine a deflated sail when the wind dies completely down ... for the code for doing that was on his OLD cell phone ... what was INSIDE the truck also! The new cell phone, in his hand, was minus the code.


“An early morning phone call, though, to the agency where he had bought the truck, finally bore fruit ... but not until he answered enough questions to fill out a resume ... in an effort to convince the lady on the other end that he really WAS who he said he was ... “


-S&G- 


TODAY’S POEM: Because of the grandmother who always raised flowers ... and reared me ... I have always had a certain connection with blossoms.




There is just something about being in the company of flowers ... the memories they stir with their scents, their color.




"At the Flower Show" is about one of those special occasions, a gathering of flowers ... and people ... a flower show.




But it's not so much about the flowers. I felt that my collection of words, picked up here and there along the way, would be inadequate to describe the flowers.




Ah, but the people. I was one of them. I could jot down something about the experience of being at a flower show. It would be something to remind me of that sunny day, that beautiful setting ... the realities of being there.




Of course, I couldn't resist the temptation to compare the visitors to flowers themselves.




The poem:






AT THE FLOWER SHOW


Visitors blossom in bright lines
when day begins, but start wilting
under the sun, and throngs
slowly surrender, settling
like long rows of potted plants
along the wooden benches.


(originally published in Sisters Today)


-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-


If you’d like to see what’s up with my other, DAILY blog (no, this is not my “Home Page”),  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

Late-Night Serenade

FRIDAY, as some of you may know, is also known ... around the otherwise calm and quiet Brimm Manor ... as FRANTIC FRIDAY.

Not always, but sometimes. And this one certainly turned out to be.

Friday normally is that day that I start putting “Squiggles” together, and ... if all goes well ... it gets posted some time during the night (make that the early-morning hours of Saturday ... if all goes well).

And why is that? Don’t I have all week to put it together? Well, yes ... and I suppose I could devote the whole week to gathering dribs and drabs of things that would eventually add up to a whole installment.

But it just doesn’t work that way.

You probably know how that goes. The subject is rattling around there in the back of the brain ... but the forebrain is occupied with other, more important, thoughts ... or so they seem. 

There are so many things which call out for attention ... the leaky faucet ... the hedge that’s taking on a Halloween look ... the yard gasping for water ...

You know how it is. Then, suddenly, it’s Friday again. Time to put on the running shoes and get started on “Squiggles.”

And so it was this Friday. I leapt out of bed ... slowly, as usual, making sure I had one foot on the floor, then the other ... then, checking to see that the room wasn’t tilting or slowly revolving ... and then shuffling off to my trusty computer.

Ah, but this Friday morning was to be a bit different. As I approached Ol’ Trusty, it appeared that there might be something wrong.

Sure enough, there was. Ol’ Trusty was still asleep.

I tried everything. I tickled the keyboard ... flicked switches off and on ... held one switch IN while I counted to 30 or so (as I had been instructed during an earlier crisis) ... I did everything, but stopped short of giving it mouth-to-mouth ... or yelling at it (for fear of frightening the neighbors ... for when I yell, I really YELL).

Meanwhile, the clock was ticking away ... and I had an early morning commitment ... to meet with some other people who do a bit of watercolor painting. We were going to sneak up on a field of sunflowers (maybe they’d be looking the other way) and do their portraits. 

This is no easy task, I can assure you, even when there are no recurring thoughts of that contrary computer back home.

Hours later I returned home ... came crawling up the stairs ... and walked slowly into the room where Ol’ Trusty holds forth. 

It was WORKING! That’s right, WORKING! 

Actually, it was working in the sense that it now responded to my familiar touch on the keyboard ... I didn’t mean to imply that it was working in the sense that it had gone ahead without me. I don’t think it would ever do that. Would it?

But by this time I was so bushed ... from painting ... and worry ... and worry ... and painting ... and ... 

Well, you get the picture. And I hope you’ll understand if this week’s “Squiggles” doesn’t have the usual bells and whistles ... all those practiced flourishes which have people waiting for it all across this great land of ours.

And I hope we can meet here again next week.

Meanwhile ...

-S&G-

TODAY'S POEM: Strange, but the word "late" came to mind when I finally started thinking about which poem I might share with you today. That naturally led to this:

LATE-NIGHT SERENADE

Sometimes at midnight, sometimes

three o’clock in the morning,

I hear him pouring out his soul,

and I know he’s lonely, or lovesick,

or both, poor fellow, even though

I can’t make out the words, just

the emotion of his mournful song

that goes on and on, rising in pitch,

subsiding, resuming, reminding me

of a gray wolf sending a message

somewhere in the wilds. He persists,

night after night, sitting beside

his doghouse, two doors down, nose

pointing heavenward, ears laid back,

howling, yowling, pitifully crying

his poor heart out over a lost bone,

a failed romance, the solitude

of the bachelor’s way of life --

something that’s obviously bothering

him. And it bothers me that he

doesn’t start thinking about it

until I’m trying to get some sleep,

then howls the rest of the night.

(originally published in Kaleidoscope)

-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-

If you’d like to see what’s up with my other, DAILY blog (no, this is not my “Home Page”),  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

After the Muffin

TODAY’S BIG NEWS ... for me, at least: I received an e-mail this week asking permission to reprint one of my poems ... “After the Muffin” ... in 1,000 copies of a concert program which will be handed out at performances of the professional vocal ensemble, Chicago a cappella, in October of this year. 


Whoopee! I said yes, of course. Who am I to stand in the way of getting more mileage out of one of my little poems? In this case it’s one which has been set to music and performed before (details, if you’re interested, are in ‘TODAY’S POEM,’ below).


There remained one other little detail. The person making the contact also wanted to know if I require any payment for letting them do this. 


Well! I promptly replied that, yes, my usual fee would apply ... and that runs to SIX FIGURES ... all of them ZEROES, of course! 


-S&G-


BOOK NOOK - Word from LOREE, Kansas, is that she’s not getting much reading done these days ... but she has a perfect excuse (even Professor Squigglee is nodding agreement at this) ... Loree says, “The outdoors keeps calling to me.” Ah, but come winter, she plans to give those audio books (sometimes called “talking books”) a real workout.


Meanwhile, I’m still trying to remember to find a few minutes now and then to spend with Memory Fitness Over 40, by Robin West, Ph.D. And now two other books have joined that one: Slipping Out of Bloom, a delightful, moving collection of poems by Julie L. Moore (Phyllis and I had the pleasure of hearing her give a reading recently), and heredities, a rather complicated collection by J. Michael Martinez.


-S&G-


HAVE YOU EVER NOTICED how often it rains when you have something special on the agenda? Plan a picnic, for example, or Grandma often commented on how often it always seemed to rain after she’d just hung a washing out to dry. 


Well, LOREE says, “I can personally verify that if it only rains ONE day out of any given week, it will be on Thursday, the day I go to get my hair done! Reckon I should change days?”


Oh, I dunno ... let’s just be thankful you don’t get it done every day. What a deluge that would be!


-S&G-




TODAY’S POEM: "After the Muffin" is a love poem ... that's right, love poem ... which was included in O Taste and See: Food Poems, an anthology co-edited by David Lee Garrison and Terry Hermsen and published by Bottom Dog Press ... and the book was a sellout ... all 5,000 copies! 


"After the Muffin" was also discovered by Paul Carey, composer, who is also music director for Vox Caelestis Women's Chorus, a 16-voice professional women's chorus based in Chicago's western suburbs. 


He liked "After the Muffin" and set it to music, along with several other food-related poems.


For a sampling of their work:


http://www.paulcarey.net/




"After the Muffin" made an appearance in three performances of "The Musical Food Groups" by Chicago a cappella, a vocal ensemble of nine voices, "dedicated to performing innovative concert programs at the highest possible musical standards."


I've heard a recording of their presentation of "After the Muffin," thanks to Matt Greenberg, executive director, who also sings bass with the group ... and it is a superb piece of work ... their rendition of my poem, that is. 


For a sample of Chicago a cappella:


http://www.chicagoacappella.org/




Meanwhile, the poem:


AFTER THE MUFFIN


You've something on
your lip, you say,
your finger, gentle
as a kiss, floating
to show me where.


Blueberry! For
we have just shared
a warm muffin
by candlelight.


And now, all these
hours later, I still
feel that touch
like a kiss, still
hear you saying:
You've something
on your lip.


(Published in O Taste and See: Food Poems, Bottom Dog Press, 2003)


-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-


If you’d like to see what’s up with my other, DAILY blog (no, this is not my “Home Page”),  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