A Cautionary Tale

Pastor Jim heaves himself up the steps,

Mops his brow and, winded, pants,

"It is a sin to carouse, gamble and drink,

But even worse to dance."



That is the word, but just then a bird

Flies in and cracks Jim in the skull;

After turning the page, he falls off the stage

And dies, creating a lull.



Deacon Don frowns, throws himself on the ground,

And cries, "Jesus has called our Jim home!"

Is there something celestial about a disoriented kestrel

That flew in and did in his dome?



Like a helium balloon, Jim's soul rose through the room,

Toward the voice of a late pop diva;

He passed Hottentots and Hindus, sitting in the windows,

And three shiksas who kindly sat shiva.



He rose up and found God in the Heavenly place,

Cutting a rug with some woman named Bubbles;

Jim saw He was a She, and mumbled "Dear me,

This is only the start of my troubles."



The natural fact is, there's a Heaven for Baptists,

Though it's not clear why anyone goes there;

Everything's gray, and nobody's gay,

And the angels have quite disturbing nose hair.



Meanwhile, Jim's flock got over their shock,

And buried him out in the churchyard;

But kids dug him up and that night set him up

On a flaming pyre of birch bark.



So ends my tale of the church on the plain,

Jim is gone and his body is toasted;

His name is now written in Heavenly fame,

Though there's a rumor that says it was ghosted.

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artwork: "Archy & Mehitabel" by Don Marquis

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A Gardener's Breviary

First, take stock of what is in your garden.

All plants are distinct;

Seek the animating spirit in each vine and bloom.

Let them speak to you, in moments of quiet

Before beginning.



Do not stake pansies.

Refrain from flooding roses.

Leave the lotus in the pond--

Do not insist that it grace the sill.



Plans and designs may be made, but must remain flexible;

An unwanted plant may be hardy enough to appear year after year--

Trust its purpose.

Conversely, the most ardently desired flower may fail, despite love and care.

Trust its purpose, too.



When your plants are thirsty,

Water is best.

Vinegar, alcohol, noxious powders, and lye soap will all damage or destroy roots, stems and blooms.

Pruning, trimming and thinning can be beneficial if done judiciously,

But remember,

Everything will grow towards the sun,

And in its own time and shape.

Individuals of a common variety still differ in some particulars.

Fence out foragers.

Weed regularly.



Everything given to a garden, it will give back.

Does it matter if the sunflower blooms for you, or for the jay?

Keep soil turned, and loose.

Remove grubs and worms.

It is all right to save cuttings; a vase for your table or bedside will please for days.

Most things, even lovely things, are temporal, not eternal.

Beauty is holy.

Real love is never wasted.

Above all,

Remember that tending is not the same as owning.

Good luck and happy gardening.

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written for magpie 26

art by Gustav Klimt

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Northfork

Hello there my little popcorn puffs! (that's a tribute, Senorita. Not a "blatant rip-off" lol) 

Occasionally, I like to share with all of you about certain movies that I love. Today I'd like to tell you about the Polish brothers film "Northfork", which came out in 2003.

I am nothing if not cutting edge here at Word Garden. I mean, give a girl some credit. I'm watching "talkies" now and everything!

Northfork concerns, at its simplest level, a fictional town of the same name, in Montana. It is 1955, and a new dam has been built. Soon, little Northfork will find itself underwater and gone. 

A group of six men in dark suits have been dispatched to evacuate the people living there. This crew includes James Woods and Peter Coyote. They find some odd characters in residence.

There is a man living in an ark with his two wives.

There is the preacher, played excellently by Nick Nolte. 

There are four celestial beings, Happy (Anthony Edwards), Cup Of Tea, Cod, and Flower Hercules (Daryl Hannah), "the strongest man who ever wore a skirt." They are looking for the Unknown Angel.

There is an exceedingly odd creature who looks like a cross between a giraffe and scaffolding.

There is the couple, some guy and Claire Forlani (sighhhhhhhhhhh), who have brought back their adopted son, who is ill, to the preacher. The boy, when he is awake, claims he is an angel who was shot by hunters, and his halo and wings removed. 

What the movie is really about is death and rebirth. One reason I have posted about it here, is because it reminds me of my own story poems. If one of my poems were a movie, it would be this movie. 

The reviews at Netflix are divided. Half find the film glorious, as I do, and half just didn't get it, and hated it. Me? I can't recommend it enough.

See you at the movies! ;-)

Fireblossom

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Eunice

Eunice MacNaughton-Hippelwhite,

Wife of Sir Basil Coddington Hippelwhite,

And daughter of steel magnate F. Pomeroy MacNaughton III

Of the upstate MacNaughtons,



Flung out her arm and tried to skip a stone on lake Michigan,

That cloudy September day in 1949,

But it sank like the Bismarck.



The sky above her was a particularly pleasing shade of blue,

The trees beyond the dunes stately,

And her clothing tasteful and expensive as she waded into the surf.



"Blaaaaahhhhhhh!" she said, startling some seagulls.

"Blahhhh gah fuckety fuck fuck fuck!" she went on.

Her tiny hands made splashing noises as she beat them against the surface of the water.



Eunice MacNaughton-Hippelwhite,

Wife of Basil Coddington Hippelwhite,

And daughter of steel magnate F. Pomeroy MacNaughton III,

Sat down on the bottom sand,

Shoulder deep in seaweed and the chilly waves,

As if she were attending a remarkably soggy polo match.



The big house behind her stood peaceful and distant.

Her hat floated away.

She wiggled her toes underwater.



Once, she had been kissed by Whitey Balachinsky,

Who now owned a service station on Route 28.


Once, she had danced to Benny Goodman with her friend Cookie,

Who wore Japanese harpoons in her hair, and told good jokes.



F. Pomeroy MacNaughton III, the steel magnate, had quietly put a stop to all that.

Sundays, Basil would call on her at the house.

They would sit on the couch like ornamental urns.



Eunice MacNaughton-Hippelwhite leant forward

Face down in the shallows, and blew bubbles until her chest hurt,

Just as those German sailors must have done.



Coming in the front door later, sodden,

Eunice explained to the astonished downstairs maid that she had perished at sea,

Then telephoned her friend Cookie,

And was not seen again until Spring.

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for One Shot Wednesday

Overheard

There is a coney island restaurant where I like to eat my lunch when I am working. It's just a little place, does a good business, and so it's impossible sometimes not to hear conversations going on around me, especially since I am by myself.

There was the young gal who went on for half an hour about fashion, her friends' love lives, and her dog. I loved eavesdropping on her, I found her delightful. I set down my book and just listened. There was the table full of starched businessmen, with one of them holding forth about the most killingly dull subjects while his protegees lapped up every word. Then, too, there was the upscale middle-aged gal who was sitting with her daughter and new grandbaby. Her cell phone rang and she cheerfully shouted her conversation to the entire restaurant until we all knew more about Shayna's breasts (her daughter was, apparently, nursing) than any of us ever wanted to know. All this and Greek omelets too!

Today it was crowded and I sat in a booth in front of two adults and a little boy. While I try to avoid sitting near men of a certain age who are holding forth in confident tones, I don't mind kids at all. This boy's name, it soon became obvious, was Sammy. Well, poor Sammy. Apparently, he had gotten syrup on his hands, and his mom, a 25 or 30 year old blond gal, just went nuts.

"I can't take this from you! I just can't!" she cried. The woman was hissing at him. I mean, she sounded like she could have killed him.  Now, I raised a son, and I know that children can press all of your buttons and leave you tearing your hair and dancing on your very last nerve. I get that. But I also know the sound of a child who is testing, or tired, or in a down-to-the-mat power struggle with a parent. That was not this child. She went on and on, about his attitude and his "whineyness." I didn't think he was being whiny at all, but she did, and let him hear about it. He kept saying "okay, okay!" and I could hear it in his voice that he had nothing on his mind except to somehow placate her and make her stop being angry with him.

Apparently, he did something with his drinking straw, and she went crazier, even, than before. "Why would you do that? Why would you do that? What were you thinking?" she demanded. Desperately, he said he didn't know why. He didn't know what he was thinking. I remember enough about being little, that I can remember that I truly had no idea why I did half the things I did. I was experimenting with the world, I suppose. Or just not thinking at all. As an adult, I don't have a thought-out plan for half of what I do. Kids certainly don't. Sammy was getting scared, and I was getting scared for him. She was so angry, and so relentless. "I will jerk you right out of that chair! Not another word until you eat all of that food, or I'm not giving you anything else to eat for the rest of the day!" I thought, who would feel like eating, if they were that little boy? I mean, I was ready to cry myself. 

I wondered why the man didn't put a stop to it. I had assumed he was Sammy's dad, but when I got a good look at him, I saw he was older, and dressed for business. He may have been a friend, or something, not the dad. He did say "thank you, Sammy, for eating your bacon." 

Anyway, here comes the part that really got me. After his mom had been after him non-stop for fifteen minutes, just letting him have it about how rotten he was, he goes, "Mommy, why do you hate me?" I know that every child flings "I hate you!" or "You hate me!" at a parent sometimes when they have been denied a privilege or been punished. This was different. His voice was so fragile. I felt so bad for him! I knew that, right about then, he probably wanted the restaurant booth to open up and swallow him. He was confused and had no idea what to say or not say, that wouldn't bring still more disaster down on him. But through it all, he sounded reasonable, though scared and distressed. It was her that was out of control. 

Anyway, she went, "How could you think that I hate you? I would jump in front of a train for you! Where do you get these ideas? Television?" I thought, he gets the idea from your entire tone and manner, lady. "I just want you to learn manners, and the right way to do things." I thought, she is well on her way to raising a young man with wonderful manners, who will throw himself in front of a train one day. Funny how perspective can be lost. She wanted him to learn manners, and her way to do that was to verbally horsewhip him. 

He asked her again, "Why do you hate me?" It was all pretty awful. 

I don't know that woman from anybody. Maybe she is a single mom. Maybe she lost her job yesterday. Maybe she can't make the rent. Maybe she is three days sober. Maybe she is hormonal, or bipolar, or any number of other things. But I know this: she was wrong. And Sammy had to pay the price. It bothered me all day, and now I am writing about it. 

:-(

_______

Rotation

You would not have sensed it coming;

Wouldn't have noticed the tang in the air...



You would have been thinking,

Have someone mow by the roadside--

Those sunflowers, really weeds,

Level them.

Line up the fence posts,

Equidistant.

Have it done by three--

Then on to the next thing.



I have turned away from you so many times,

I am sister to them

When the clouds start to circle.



It seems a random thing,

This destruction;

But perhaps there is the hand of God in it.

When you are gone,

I will lie down by the roadside, among the sunflowers;

They will bend over me like lovers.

I will receive them, and we will say to each other,

"How beautiful you are;

How perfect."



We will care not at all

For plans,

Plotted lines,

Or much of anything besides lazing in the ditches

At the messy, unincorporated edge

Of Eden.

________

Oh Noes! Riot Ketteh Tag!

My Twin, Riot Kitty, has tagged me (Remember? You DID! You freaking did. You so did.) for this 20 Questions Meme! Okay, so look. I'm not waiting for that one blogger to finally show up. Let's get started! (...and if my evil scheme has worked, half of you are thinking, "is it me? does she mean me??? Bwahaha)

1. When you looked at yourself in the mirror today, what was the first thing that you thought?

I thought, "Hello, Gorgeous!" This is not always the case, but it was today.

You see, sometimes I look in the mirror and see this.

And then just other times, I look in the mirror and see this. I think there is something the matter with my mirror.

2. Do you miss anyone right now?

Yes. Jennifer Beals. I dreamt last night that....well just you never mind, all you horrid little nosey parkers! Suffice to say that when I woke up, it took me a minute to realize it was just a dream, and I felt kinda gypped about that. 

3. If you could move anyplace else, would you?

Canada, man. I loov it up der. I wanna meet a lady Mountie. We can watch da National and eat donuts.  Then go check the traps. Fookin paradise, yanno? I hoop she like hockey, too.

4. If you could choose, what would your last meal be?

A big, messy, out of control seafood platter! I'm really a Selkie, you know. 

5. What famous person, dead or alive, would you like to have lunch with?

Well, she wasn't famous, so I guess I can't choose my paternal grandmother. (because I'm all about strict adherence to rules, as most of you know.) She died when I was two, so I don't remember her, but from everything I've heard, in her prime she was some gal. I expect that a bit of her may have come down to me, shy lil Fireblossom that I yam. Olive Thomas, the silent movie queen referenced in the picture, will have to stand in, as I have no photographs of my grandmother. Oh but, what about the rules, you'll say! Okay okay. I'd have lunch with Joan Jett. I mean DUH. LOL.

6. What was the last book you read?

"Life, In Spite Of Me" by Kristen Anderson. It was a gift from my friend Tab of  Through My Eyes.  At seventeen, Kristen had been rocked by several things that happened in her life, and she lay down on a railroad track to end her life. God had other plans for her, though, and she survived. This book is her remarkable story.

7. What was the last movie you watched?

It was a double feature dvd I got from Netflix. It starred Mabel Normand in two silent films: "The Extra Girl" (1923) and "The Gusher" (1913). In "The Extra Girl" Mabel goes to Hollywood to try to make good and is given odd jobs instead. There is a star who is afraid of lions, so they have to dress up a dog as a lion for the big action scene. Our Mabel goes to fetch the "lion", not realizing that the docile pooch has been replaced with a real lion. She goes walking through the lot with this King of Beasts trailing behind her on a rope. Everyone scatters, of course, and she can't figure it out, though eventually she does. It's pretty hysterical. Mabel was the original movie funnywoman, and it is said that it was she who argued Mack Sennett into keeping Charlie Chaplin and giving him another chance, after Charlie had early difficulties adjusting from stage to film. 

8. What was the last song you heard?

I've been listening to Rachael Yamagata's "Happenstance." I'm not sure if the last song I heard was "Letter Read" or "Wore Me Down." Let my future biographer worry about it. ;-)

9.What's your dream vacation?

You suck, little meme, making me divulge my cherished little dream to everybody. You're a hard one, yes you are. I would like nothing better than to spend a week back where I used to live, San Antonio, Texas. I would like to go there with someone I love (applicants sign the sheet). We would stay a night at the haunted Menger (pictured above), then switch to the most expensive hotel on the River Walk, and just laze and eat at all the restaurants, hang out in the sun and buy lots of touristy junk. People do this, I know. Maybe me, one day.

10. What is the next trip you'll take?

Probably to the grocery store or the coin laundry. My life is really not that interesting!

11. Did you ever go to camp?

No. There would have been bugs. Bugs. As if. Be serious.

12. Have you ever been in love? 

Yes.

13. What do you want to know about the future?

Nothing. Let it unfold.

14. Where is your best friend?

Passed out on the floor, next to the bed. Those of you who know my long-ago drunken history will say, "What, again???" But it is only sweet wonderful Bosco, my doggy. I love him so.

15. How is your best friend? 

He is addicted to Purina Beggin' treats. Especially Canadian Cuts. What is it with us and things Canadian? Bosco is a herder, and will nudge me up the hallway toward the kitchen as if I were a rather dim, Beggin' treat bearing sheep. Wait a minute....

16. Who is the biggest gossiper you know?

This woman on my mail route. She is always out front messing with her lawn or washing her car, but her real purpose is to engage anyone who passes by in conversation, trying to pump them for tidbits. She once stood on her porch and told me she couldn't "condone" my rainbow jewelry. Talk to the hand, cos the queer mail lady ain't listenin'. 

17. What does your last text message say?

Text message? I don't own a cell phone or crackberry or iphone or portable world domination device. My last email told me I was wonderful, and like that. Cool, right? :-)

18. What are three things you've always wanted to do, and still plan to accomplish?

Publish a book or books. Win a major literary award. Meet the guy from Travel Channel's "Man Vs. Food" and tell him he's da bomb. 

19. What is one thing you've learned from your parents?

From my father I learned that simple things--a funny movie, a ball game, a good meal--will bring you more pleasure than any degree of professional accomplishment ever will. 

From my mother, I learned that no one can crush my spirit, though they try and try. "My house is made of bricks and I will not let you in!" For the record, there is no hair on my chinny chin chin, though. This is why Goddess, in Her wisdom, invented tweezers. 

20. What is the one thing you hope to teach your own children?

My son is 25, so I bloody well better have taught him it already. But I would say, if i had to choose just one thing, it would be that love matters the most. And after that, to get his happy little butt out here and get his bike out of the driveway so that I can pull my car in. He has confessed to me in later years, that he sometimes did this intentionally to get my goat. Cute kid! But he really was. And I am so proud of the man he has become. 

TAG! You're it. :-)

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