memories

The anniversaries of my parents' birthdays fall this week. They nurtured me and provided a safe, loving home. My mom especially loved poetry. Her generation grew up memorizing poems. One of my special memories is of my two uncles reciting Kipling's "Gunga Din" together a few years ago.

The uniform 'e wore
Was nothin' much before,
An' rather less than 'arf o' that be'ind,
For a twisty piece o' rag
An' a goatskin water-bag
Was all the field-equipment 'e could find.


Ever supportive, my mom recited for me the first poem I ever wrote when she was 88 years old.

I saw a big fat robin
a-hunting for a worm.
and when he did find one,
my, how he did squirm!

Fortunately, my grandchildren are much better poets than I was at age 9!

This week I'm preparing to share with my contemplative group what I learned in the Psalm-writing workshop.

mugwump box

All writers need a mugwump box. Mine was a gift from a wise mentor. It's a hinged cloisonne box. Inside is a carved stone turtle and the words, "Slow and steady wins the day. Park your fears in this mugmump box when you write."

Mugwump is derived from an Algonquian word meaning war leader. It evolved into describing a politician who couldn't make up his mind, or someone on the fence with his mug and wump on opposite sides.

I have been known to sit on the fence worrying about a writing project. The project's too huge. I have no authority. Better to jump of the fence and lumber along into a new book!

sacred poetry

Last week I attended a Psalm-writing workshop. Ray McGinnis, author of Writing the Sacred, spoke about literary elements found in the Psalms and how to apply them to poetry that recognizes a relationship with a Creator.

Having just weathered a tragic death in my community, I was deep into lament. In one exercise, I repeated the phrase "In the day of misfortune." I wove in other phrases from a list of Psalm phrases to use as springboards.

In his day of misfortune
did your bountiful hand
rest on the truck driver's shoulder
as his bones grew weak
and hope waited?

Sacred poems are all around us. Some are explicit, like Gerard Manley Hopkins' praise poem "Pied Beauty."

Glory be to God for dappled things -
For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow;

Others are implicit, like Mary Oliver's "Wild Geese."

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.

the book whisperer

My teacher self couldn't pass up a book titled, The Book Whisperer, by Donalyn Miller. It's an inspiring account of how one 6th grade Texas teacher instills a passion for reading in all her students.

She requires they read forty books during the year, but they get to choose. No book reports, no vocabulary lists, no work sheets. Scheduled independent reading time is hallowed in her classroom. And wouldn't you know, all readers, even so-called struggling ones, get hooked on books and improve both their reading skills and their test scores.

Of course, to achieve this, she works very hard. She creates a space filled with delicious books. She fosters an atmosphere where everyone talks about what they're reading and recommends books to each other. And she teaches language arts and reading strategies in the context of what her students are reading.

If you know a teacher, get this book into his or her hands. It could be the start of a revolution.