Finding Direction

There are times in my life when I feel very keenly that the world is unraveling quickly. I don't know if this is a function of my struggles with mental illness or if it's a real sense that time is moving past more swiftly as I age. 

As things move along, I find myself stumbling into walls of frustration and down hallways of worry. And, in my worry, I begin to go in many different directions at once. Then, suddenly, everything becomes scattered and disorganized.

Me: Are we going in the right direction?
Myself: I can't tell. Let's try another path.
Me: Is this the right way?
Myself: Maybe, but this one looks good, too.
I: Well, we can't go all three ways at once! Pick one!

It's at these moments that I find myself searching out the solace of the Mass and quiet time with the Blessed Sacrament.

Spending time alone and quiet in adoration or at least at a prayerful mass is essential to my health, both as a person, and as a Catholic. It's in those silences that I can hear the "Holy GPS Voice" telling me where the next turn should be.

There is a lovely hymn, the text of which is by Bl. John Henry Newman, that reminds me to be patient and to trust God when I can't see where I'm going.

Lead, Kindly Light, amidst th'encircling gloom,

Lead Thou me on!

The night is dark, and I am far from home,

Lead Thou me on!

Keep Thou my feet; I do not ask to see

The distant scene; one step enough for me.

But, in order to see the next step, I have to keep my eyes fixed on God. He is the lamp that lights the way. Sometimes I need a reminder that no matter what "noise" is going on in my life, if I keep my attention on the Blessed Sacrament, I will find my way. God will not let me fall unless I pull my hand from His like a runaway toddler.

Focus - Pray - Trust

It seems so simple, but it is so hard to do.

Lawn Chair Catechism Session 13: Humility, Trust and Obedience

This is the final post in the Series, Lawn Chair Catechism for CatholicMom.com. Be sure to check in over there to see how this series has worked in other people's journey toward becoming more intentional disciples.

I have been very lucky to have been on a journey with my husband of 22 years (that's right, next weekend is our anniversary) and I have never really felt alone in my quest. In fact, my husband has been the one to set my feet back on the path time and time again. But, even so, the commonality of purpose among other families (you know, the people who don't leave their shoes in the middle of my living room floor) is very important for feeding my faith.

I was very blessed to find such people when I was still a young mother. There was prayer, discussion, advice, hugs, lots of coffee and lots of love. These are the friends who grieved with us and offered pilgrimages and fasting for our family through some of the most devastating trials a person can imagine. These are the friends who rejoiced when my husband and I put our lives back together, even when members of our own family couldn't understand why we would try again. I treasure their friendships and, though I don't attend Mass with them anymore, I still hold them close in my heart and in my prayers. And when I have the chance to see them, it's like we were never apart.

But, sometimes, you get called where you don't want to go. Sometimes, you get called to walk that path alone for a while. Not because God wants you to be lonely, but because he wants you to really rely on him for your sustenance.  And that's where I am now.

It's not that there are no disciples in my current parish. It's that they all have a completely different experience of life than I do. They are either much older than I am or have a completely different social background. And, as often as I reach out to connect, the connection seems somehow false or inauthentic. It shouldn't be, because we all worship together. We pray together. Their faith and their desire for discipleship is real and I even have friends, but there's a distance that I can't traverse.

Until recently, I had a connection with the Pastor, but this summer we got a new pastor. Of course,with the new pastor have come changes. Some of those changes I am very uncomfortable with. So now, the gulf seems even greater than before. I feel pushed out and abandoned. I feel completely isolated.

And it hurts. Actually, it aches.

Is it time to move on? Should I move aside and let someone who has new ideas and a call to share their gifts with the parish take my place? Have I made my music ministry an idol, as Elizabeth Scalia suggests in her book, "Strange Gods". I am back in school studying something completely new: English, not Music. This is a complete departure from the life I've been living for the past 25 years. I am also a newly-minted empty nester with a grandchild. There are so many possibilities. Do I throw myself into something new, or am I supposed to just stay where I am?

As I have been mulling over how to fix the problem, I have spent a great deal of time in front of the Blessed Sacrament thinking about what to do. Sometimes the noise in my head is so loud that I can't even keep the lines of communication with myself open, much less with God.  But yesterday, in a moment of clarity, I realized that I have been much more concerned with what I want, than what God is calling me to do. All the noise in my head is my own making and if I will just be still, if I will just listen, I will hear. It's not my problem to fix. As usual, I have taken everything on myself and said, "That's okay, God. Hang on. I've got this."

No, I have to have help. Because without God's help that path is terrifying.

Jesus promises that his yoke is easy and his burden is light, but first we have to accept that burden. I have been spending so much time creating my own burdens that I have completely cast off his. It's when we try to walk that road alone, without Jesus, that the yoke becomes hard, the way becomes rocky and narrow, and we fall into despair.

Obedience is never easy. It's especially hard for head-strong ladies like me because it requires true humility. But, it's essential to the life of a disciple. You must humble yourself in order to obey. And you must obey because God would never lie to you. He would never lead you astray.

Thankfully, God is patient with me. He just keeps calling and when I finally accept the burden he gives me, things look much better. So, while having companions on the journey is an important part of the path to God, it's not the only way. Sometimes, you just have to learn to rely on God alone.

How will I continue the work I've begun this summer? For right now, I plan to stay put. This is where God put me and this is where I am needed. The Sisters and I plan to begin our English Bible Class in September and we'll see where that takes us next. I am hoping that working with a smaller community within the parish and building our faith and knowledge together will help bridge that chasm I am feeling. For right now, I am just walking the path until God shuts doors and trying to remember to be humble and obedient.

God is Bigger

Sometimes I have a day that is really overwhelming to me. I could just sit and cry for hours on end. I sometimes think, "I can't do this. Really, God, I can't."

I had a day like that yesterday.

It doesn't happen often, but some days, problems overwhelm the hope that I should have in my heart and I feel abandoned and very inadequate as a Mom, (or spouse, or employee, or musician, or whatever role is plaguing me at the time).

So, I went to Mass today and Father talked about the Kings who appear in the Gospel today: The Magi and King Herod. The Magi were seeking to honor the new "King of the Jews". In fact, when they did finally enter into the presence of Jesus, Father pointed out, "they prostrated themselves. Which means they put their faces in the dirt, as if to say, we are nothing and You are Everything."

King Herod on the other hand, had become so turned in on himself that he could not truly say to Jesus, "You are Everything", for Herod believed, (and in order to keep his position, he HAD to) that Herod was everything.

This hit me squarely between the eyes. (I find that happening a lot, recently, actually...) I have become very attuned to what I need and how I feel. It's partially out of feeding my artistic endeavors. One has to be attuned to the inner workings of one's heart to bring them out to share. But, I had lost sight of everyone around me. And most importantly, I had lost sight of God's presence in my life.

I realized for the first time in a long time that God really is bigger than anything I have facing me. Nothing I could possibly face is impossible for God to handle. No situation I can paint myself into is bigger than God's mercy. No stumbling block is too big to overcome with His help. I just have to recognize that God is Everything and I am nothing without Him. I had another pastor, years ago, who explained (after years of me not understanding the concept) that this is what is meant by being "poor in spirit".

If Jesus can come to earth as a child and grow to adulthood, allow himself to be crucified and then rise from the dead, I think he can handle the little bumps in the road of my little life. And, sometimes, those bumps are there for a reason, like speed bumps, to slow us down a little bit and make us think about what we are doing. There are no accidents in God's plan. Everything happens for a reason.

There is a wonderful series of children's videos that we used to watch when the kids were little called VeggieTales. One of them was called "Where's God When I'm Scared". In the story, the characters sing a song called "God is Bigger than the Bogeyman".

Know what? Junior Asparagus was right.

Doing something dumb

Have you ever done something that you knew was stupid when you thought about doing it, you knew it was stupid when you did it and you did it anyway?

Been there. Done that. Bought the T-shirt.
(Mind you, I will never wear the T-shirt because it is tacky and doesn't fit.)

It is a very good thing that I believe in redemption and reconciliation. Forgiveness is a wonderful thing. Living outside the "state of grace" is the most sickening place I have ever been. Especially, if I have dragged someone else with me. Really, it makes me physically ill.

My brother, John, always says that stupid should hurt and then we wouldn't do stupid things so much. I wish that were true. But stupid does hurt and, yet, we are stupid all the time.

On making mistakes

Mistakes happen. It is a fact of life. And when I make them, I own them. I try to make amends and ask for forgiveness. Recently, I have found myself asking for a lot of forgiveness.

I seem to be making a lot of mistakes recently (dropping the ball on things, mis-communicating with people, etc...) and I wonder if it is because I am not being focused or if I am just too busy.

As I said in a previous post, my job has recently "diversified". That's just a euphemism for "I have more things to do". I love learning new things. But, in the process, some things get lost or dropped or forgotten. Usually, that means that I am over-committed.

It is disturbing to me that someone, somewhere will be disappointed in me. I can't stand for people to be disappointed in me. It isn't that I always want to please everyone: I am certainly not a people-pleaser. I am far too opinionated for that. Maybe it's more that I want to impress everyone. I want to be the best at everything that I do. And, of course, I can't be perfect so the idea of being the best at whatever I do is a ridiculous one, to say the least.

I used to dance and take gymnastics as a child and one of my teachers told me that if I didn't make mistakes, I wasn't trying hard enough. I wasn't pushing myself enough to get better. I wonder if that's so of everything, not just physical disciplines.

Maybe my mistakes are just a part of growing and becoming better and stronger. I hope so.

On being a mom...

Today, I am missing my kids. I miss homeschooling them. I miss cooking and creating with them. I miss their humor and wit. I just miss them.

Don't get me wrong. I like my job. Actually, I love it. I love the people I work with. I love the field of organ building. It is fascinating! It's one of the most interesting and rewarding things I have ever done, next to raising my kids, of course. But that's just it...next to raising my kids.

It would be different if my kids had always gone to school and been gone all day while I stayed home and read or cleaned or did some other essential of housekeeping. By now, I would be a bored housewife, looking for something to do between 9 and 3 everyday. But, that's not how it happened.

When I was pregnant, I told my husband that I didn't want a "skirt-clinger" (you know, the kid that hides behind their mother when you say "hi" to them, no matter how long you have known them). I wanted independent, confident kids who would think for themselves. I got them. And most of the time, I like them. They are smart, funny and talented.

When I was homeschooling, I got to know them very well. My kids were excelling. They learned not only about the things that you get from books, but also about the world around them. I took them with me everywhere. I took them to concerts, to museums, to church...I even took them to work with me. When the ground water in my mother's community was tapped out by the HUGE golf course wells across the road, the kids and I studied ground water. We even built a model to show what had happened to Pinka's water. In short, everything was a learning experience.

I miss those days. Now, I have to fight with them to get them to stay in school. I am told that the teachers spend most of their class time telling the kids to quiet down and not enough time teaching. I am told that the other kids play "political head games" over friendships and seating arrangements (granted: this is a normal thing in middle school and high school). I am told that they learned so much more with me, "can't you please come home?"

But, I can't. I have to work. And most days, I want to.

I am not sure why today is different, but it is.

Passion

Crimson Passion Flower

Passion has been on my mind lately.

There are so many ways that one can experience passion. The definition in the dictionary takes up about 30 lines. You can have a passion for something, or a passion for someone. You can experience it as a feeling or a thought. It can be positive or negative. Or it could be both at the same time. It can be an extreme trial (such as The Passion of Christ). It can be all consuming (passions usually are). It can be a physical manifestation of distress or excitement (both good and bad). It can be an intense anger or and intense feeling of love or lust.

Sometimes, my passion runs away with me. I allow my strong emotions to overpower my common sense, but indeed, that is the essence of a "passion". It defies logic. The trick is to master your passions and develop a passion for the "right" things. Right? But, what are the right things?

That's a question I have spent an entire weekend trying to answer for myself. Are the right things the ones that people will find "acceptable"? Are they the "normal things", like my children, my spouse, my religion, my music? They are surely not the things that will cause the world to crumble around me, like people and things that I cannot or should not have. Or should I govern my passions completely, as if I were a Benedictine Monk? Are passions something to be mastered, or leashed, if you will, even if they are for the "right" things?

The Latin word, from which Passion is taken, passionem, indicates that it is "suffering or enduring". No one ever said that life was easy. And passions, no matter what form they take, seem to be a trial for our spirits. They make our hearts beat faster. They make our breathing come more quickly. They can be frightening or exciting, or both at the same time. They make life colorful. They can feel like an explosion. They can cause trouble for us if we let them take control. Or they can turn us toward God who created them all for some purpose.

Now, if I could only figure out what that purpose is.

There is a hymn that I love called "Come Down, O Love Divine" by Ralph Vaughan Williams (whose birthday was yesterday, by the way...). The words were written by Bianco of Siena. The hymn is about the descent of the Holy Spirit upon our souls. It's an invitation to the Holy Spirit to dwell within our hearts. Here is the second stanza:

"O let it freely burn,
'til earthly passions turn To dust and ashes in its heat consuming;
And let Thy glorious light shine ever on my sight,
And clothe me round, the while my path illuming."

Keeping My Focus

Sometimes it is very hard for me to keep my focus. I have a lot of very different projects that I am involved in and sometimes they all crowd together and make things messy in my head. And suddenly, I discover I have taken on one thing too many.

It is a delicate balance that I run from day-to-day. I run two choirs, work almost full-time (and my hours just increased) and attempt to raise two teenagers. Just the addition of a couple of extra things to do at work and a few more hours on the job have thrown me for a loop this past two weeks. I feel like I am forgetting everything and nothing is getting done, but I am constantly in motion. At that point, I need to take one task and make it work its way out to the very end. I have to accomplish something.

The other night I lay awake in my bed for hours on end. I couldn't sleep no matter how many things I counted (blessings, as well as sheep). My thoughts kept drifting to the things I hadn't gotten done at work last week. And the calls I hadn't yet made for the choir at the church. And the Liturgy Plan I hadn't developed yet. And the concert plan I hadn't developed for the Kinderchor...it just went on and on. Finally the alarm clock went off and I realized I hadn't slept at all. I needed to pick something to and finish it to break the cycle.

Today, I made a concerted effort to focus on my desk. The piles of paper were taking over. I can actually see the top of my desk now, which is a big step. As I sat here clearing things, filing things, and entering data into my database, I started thinking about the roller-coaster I have been on this past couple of weeks. I realized that I have actually accomplished a lot, even though some things have fallen through the cracks. I started making a list of things that needed to be attended to and I have those things in hand, now, too. I feel vaguely better about the past two weeks and I feel more hopeful about the next couple of weeks, too.

Maybe tonight, when I lay down to go to sleep, I'll think about the things I did get done and the jobs I have accomplished and be happy that I kept my focus for just today. And, tomorrow, I'll do it again.

Mixed Blessings

We had a terrible wind storm over the weekend that knocked our power out. We are on day 4 with no electricity. Of course, my entire kitchen is electric, but our hot water is gas (Thanks goodness!!), so we can clean things, but we have no food and no way to cook it. Well, not easily. It is at times like these, when I realize that all of the things that we have been through have prepared us for these "mini-disasters".

In the past few years, while we have struggled financially, occasionally we had to pick between having gas and having electric. And though I wouldn't exactly call us "off the power grid", we have gotten very good at fending for ourselves "on the edge of the power grid".

Last night, The Princess and I decided we were hungry. Of course there was no money to just go buy a pizza, so we improvised. We found a can of Sterno in my son's camping gear and set about making a grill. We used a dutch oven to set the Sterno can in and then took an oven rack and put that across the top and proceeded to make refried bean dip. It was delicious. We also discovered that we could make a pretty good lamp out of a flashlight stuck in a vase. I have a friend at work who has been making coffee by candle light. He says it works pretty well. It's been kind of fun coming up with solutions to the problems of living without power. It stretches us and makes us use our heads.

The nice thing about not having power is that there are no distractions from the outside world: No TV, no radio, no telephone, no computer. We sit and visit with each other. We play cards and make our own music (though playing piano by candlelight is not as easy as it looks in the movies...) and, of course, we read. Our internal clocks are getting used to the rhythm of the day; we are tired when the sun sets and awake when the sun rises. And there is a sort of pride that we are getting through it all, none the worse for wear, and maybe even getting by a little better.

When the power comes back on, we will resume our busy lives and hectic pace, but it is nice, for now, to have a little technology vacation.


Photo by justmelissa1977. Found on www.NBC4i.com.

Make new friends...

You know that old Girl Scout song:

"Make new friends, but keep the old.
One is silver and the other's gold."

It is so true. But, sometimes, as I go through life making new friends, I begin to forget about the old friends. Our experiences and circumstances change and make maintaining our friendships more of a commitment of time, rather than a convenience of doing business with or attending school with someone we like. And that is when I think real friendship is tested.

It has been said that one only really has a few really good friends in life. My mother told me once that her definition of a "good friend" is someone that you can call at 3 in the morning, no matter how long it has been since you saw them, and they would still be happy to hear from you. I have many of those people in my life. I am very lucky. But, I do wonder, if that really defines a "true friendship". If you aren't talking to them regularly, why not?

My mother-in-law still has parties with girlfriends she had when she came to Columbus more than 40 years ago. The five ladies who make up her most solid friend base have been her friends since she was 17 or 18 years old. But, her circumstances did not change much. She lives in the house where my father-in-law was raised. The family has owned the house since about 1928, shortly after it was built. The neighborhood is also very stable. Just a few blocks away, there is a family, with 8 kids, 4 of whom have purchased houses on the same street as the "family homestead". Even though many of these ladies have moved away to other parts of the city, their lives all intersect at regular enough intervals and their experiences are similar enough, that they have ground to share.

One of the things that plagues my friendships, however, is that dastardly thief called "Change" and his brother, "Time". Change can be good and is usually necessary, but the fact is, that friendships based on the convenience of seeing each other at regular intervals makes for rocky ground, when change intervenes. Time is short all around. One of my friends calls it "The Time Famine". She's right. I look at my schedule and think, "Now, when would I ever see a friend who I just don't see at one of my practices or events during the week? Friday between 7 pm and 10 pm? Or perhaps Saturday between 6 am and 8 am?" The key, is of course, making time. Making time for my old friends is something that I need to work on.

And change also brings different perspectives into play. As one's interests change and experiences grow, so does their circle of acquaintances, and thereby, their friends. I have become a broader person (and I think a better one) for all of the new friends I have made, while I see some of my older friends slipping away from me, because they refuse to grow or tolerate that which they do not understand. While I do not consider myself to be "open-minded", necessarily, I do consider myself to be "open-hearted". That makes for an interesting collection of friends.

Going back through all the friends that I could call at 3 AM and still have them happy to hear from me, I count among them a couple of very conservative Catholic couples who border on homophobia. But, I also count a couple of gay men who have been a committed couple for more than 40 years. Could the they co-exist in a room together, say, for my daughter's wedding? I'd say that's probably up to them. I love them all. I would never leave any of them out of a life celebration.

Does that make me a "sell-out"? I don't think so. If I can figure out how to balance my new and old friends, I think it makes me a richer person in the Silver and Gold of my many friendships shot through the tapestry of my life.

Photo:

"Fiora" - Decoration from the headgear of Cypriot middle class/bourgeois costume.

(from Athens (Greece) Historical Museum)

Picture Day

I hate getting my picture taken.

I have always hated getting my picture taken.

Well, no, I guess that's not true. I remember one time, bugging my grandfather to take my picture, but he wouldn't, because he wanted to get a picture of me when I was not expecting it; so I looked natural. But, I think I was about 4 or 5 then, and time, and trial and error have left their marks on me, like a dentist's chair leaves it's mark on some people.

Just the idea of sitting in front of a camera and worrying about whether I should smile with my teeth or not; or whether I have enough makeup on my eyes for them to be seen under my glasses; or should I take those off altogether, makes my blood run cold. I have all kinds of pictures for the Wall of Shame, believe me. No, you wouldn't believe it.

My sixth grade picture is a study in the horrors of Picture Day. Oh my God...I can't even describe it. Suffice it to say that I was in mid-laugh, my sweater had a hole in the shoulder and my cowlicks (all 5 of them) were manifestly untamed. However, it was my mother's favorite: "Awwww....It looks just like you!" I wanted to burn it (and still do). I still am not sure whether she likes it because "it looks like me", or because she doesn't want me to get a swelled head about my beauty. If I really believed that this picture was representative of how I "really" look, I would jump in a lake.

I have witnessed others' horrible pictures, too. My brother has an infamous one of him in a tie with a horse on it. We all refer to it as "The Horse Tie Picture". John has been steadily destroying all the copies he can find for the last 20 years, or so, but I still have one. His 40th birthday is going to be SO fun!

My son also has a famous school portrait. I think it's his 1st grade picture. He was told to smile, but not to use his teeth. So he didn't. Unfortunately, the effect was a Stan Laurel smile. I swear, it looks just like he stepped out of a Laurel and Hardy movie. It gives my father-in-law such a chuckle to this day.

I fret and fume for days before pictures are taken. I spend hours deciding what to wear, how to wear my hair, what makeup colors to use, whether or not to do my nails...the list is really endless. In the end, of course, none of this really matters. I am still an overweight white woman, aged 39, with too much grey in my hair for my age and an awkward smile. No clothes, or makeup or pose is going to cover all that up. I just look like I look.

I think the best picture I ever had taken was taken by the Deputy Registrar the day I went to change my name on my driver's license after I got married. I was so sad when I had to surrender my license to get the new one when I went to renew it. The second best was, by happy accident, a picture of me at a Mardi Gras Party. I looked good and I was very proud of the job I'd done with my costumes for Michael, the kids and me. Well, I guess my Senior Picture was pretty good. But, I didn't wear my glasses and I am not so sure it looks like me.

So what brings all this angst up? My manager informed me this afternoon that we would be having our annual staff picture taken on June 17th at 8:30 in the morning, sharp.

Love the man...he loves to torture me.

Who the heck looks their BEST at 8:30 in the morning?!? Not me. I told him I was going to have to get up at 4 AM, just to get the bags out from under my eyes. He just looked at me and raised his eyebrows.

Darn 30 year old men! What do they know about having bags under their eyes? Plus, last year he had me sit for the picture (not an attractive spot for a woman with a belly from having kids)!

But, we've been trying to get this picture taken since April, so there's no escape for me this time. The best I can hope for is that I pick the right outfit, smile the right smile and that the stars align correctly enough that my sister and I can get my hair colored. I have no problem looking like my kids' mom, but I have no desire to look like their Grandmother. Heck, I have two weeks to pull this off.

Other than that, I'll just have to channel that happy, "newlywed" smile and be proud of my accomplishments in the past year at my job. I have come a long way, I have learned a lot and I am proud of the job I do. Last year's picture wasn't so bad, I guess. Maybe this year's picture will be even better.

If you want peace...

There is a bumper sticker that has been around for years: "If you want peace, work for justice." I have always hated that bumper sticker. It always rang false to me, and now I know why. Working for justice will almost always bring about a war. And whose justice are we working fo, anyway? Justice as we understand it is different for each person and is completely subjective.

No, if you want peace, you need to work for mercy. It's a much harder fight, but well worth it.

Raising a choir: Part 1

One of the things I run into often with conducting choirs is building and rebuilding. Building a choir is almost easier that rebuilding one. Rebuilding a choir is like getting your stick shift car up to 4th gear and then having to stop at a stop light, so you have to start all over again in 1st gear.

One thing remains the same between the two, however. You must strike the balance between too difficult and too easy. As a musician, I have done quite a lot of choral work. I have a large repertoire to work with, but most of it is too difficult to spring on a "seedling choir". It's like watering seedlings in the heat of the day. If you water them at 4 in the afternoon, all that water is going to boil the leaves as it evaporates. You water in the morning and the evening, when the sun won't make them in to boiled greens. So it is with a choir.

Start with the basics: good vocal exercises and practices. Teach them to breathe and then teach them how to hold their mouths. They will always be better off for this. Always remember to reference exercises that you did during the rehearsal to reinforce that those exercises are important to their skill building.

Move slowly toward parts singing. Even if you only have two or three people, you can sing in parts. If they have never sung in parts before, teach them to sing a round, first. A really good resource for sacred and secular rounds (in a few different languages) is 'The Kemp Family Collection of Rounds, Canons and Songs". There are varying degrees of difficulty within this collection to keep you happy for a while. Also, another valuable resource for sacred musicians are the collections from Taize. These, again, are varied in their degree of difficulty and get people into the habit of hearing their own part.

Be careful not to move too slowly or too quickly. It is not advisable to go from a rousing rendition of "Row, Row, Row Your Boat" to "April is in My Mistress' Face". Unless your choir is full of prodigies, there will be a few years of separation between these pieces. But, you don't want to be doing "Frere Jacques" the second year of your choir, either. Progress. Let them grow.

Waxing poetic

I have been attacked by poetry this weekend! Yes, attacked!

I don't know what I did to open the flood gates, but it is a deluge right now. Instead of pushing it away, however, I am embracing it. My favorite subject this time around? Columbus. Yes, I know, there's not much that looks poetic in Columbus. I'll grant you that. But, I have found some good stuff. I want to share it all here, but I am planning something really cool with my baby brother, Joe, the photographer. I think we're going to collaborate on a book together about Columbus, in poetry and photos. I think it's going to be really cool, so you'll all want to run right out and buy one when we finish with it.

No, really....

Actually, having been involved in projects like this with the performing arts, this is the kind of thing that is a labor of love. You put your heart and soul into it and it is a tremendously fruitful thing in every area but money. If you make your investment back, you're in good shape. I did explain this to Joe, but I don't know if he believes me.

Just wait until Kristy gets involved...her business mind will whip the two of us into shape in you'll be seeing us on Letterman (under the Stupid Human Tricks segment...) No, I'm just kidding. Actually, I am very nervous, because this is very far out of my comfort zone. I have never written anything for publishing. Am I crazy??

Anyway, because I am publishing some of these poems, I can't "publish" them here...which really stinks, because I want everyone's impressions. So, if you live near me, work with me, are related to me, recognize me on the street from the grainy picture that serves as my profile shot...ask to see the poems (unless you hate poetry...then don't ask...I don't like having my feelings hurt.)

Oh, boy...here we go...