Northern Noise

Why is it that children push all of their stuff under the bed, time and time again, and then act surprised when parents say "I'm going to look under the bed?" I know I did it as a child, my older ones did it, and my 6 year old is no exception. I don't blame him for trying to get a chore done quickly; it's the look of surprise that gets me. "What? You're going to look UNDER the bed? Why on earth would you do that? Do you think your sweet son would try to get out of cleaning?" So he goes back to his room, comes right back out and comes over and hugs me. "I love you Mama. You're the best mom in the whole world." And he flashes that "aren't I cute?" smile so his dimples show and he bats his eyes. Very cute indeed, but it's not going to work. "I'm still going to look under the bed." "Drats!" he exclaims, again managing to look surprised at my perseverance. My grandmother used to say "D

Today on the way to school, my son was quiet. Unusually so. When he's quiet, there's often trouble involved, although I could see that he wasn't up to anything. So I asked. Mama: You're awfully quiet today. Whatcha thinking about? Jed: Recess. Mama: What are you thinking about recess? Jed: I'm thinking that today we need to get the high ground. Yesterday, we didn't have the high ground and when the girls attacked and I yelled "Pull back, boys! Pull back!" we didn't have anywhere to pull back too. Today if we get the high ground, we'll win the battle. Who knew 1st grade was such a war zone?

One of the best parts of this whole, newfangled, cell phone craze is picking a ringtone. One my first phones, I had a choice of all the cool tonal sounds provided by Motorola and Nokia. But now that I've entered the iPhone phase, I can not only pick my own ringtones, but I turn any song in my library into a ring tone as well. The quest now is to find the perfect song for each of my frequent callers. Here's what I've got so far - Husband's ringtone is currently the theme from Deliverance. (Cue the banjos & the albino boy, please.) I've considered the intro from Chariots of Fire as well. I had the smooth tones of Queen Latifah's "Poetryman" for awhile, but the kids thought it was cheesy, as was "This Kiss." At times this winter I've considered both "Third Rate Romance" and "Don't Fear the Reaper," but they're probably no-nos.... Daughter 1, the actress and red head has had a few ringtones. Right now s

I've been on an organizing streak lately. It started with the box and a half of old family photos from my mom & dad that I ended up with. It has continued with my going through all of the other boxes in storage up in the loft. One result has been pictures - everywhere. I've got about 10 photo boxes for Bob and I, organized by year, and then a box for each of the kids. I've also mailed boxes of pictures to my mom, brother, sister, and cousins. Probably the funnest pics to send were the ones to my cousins - one on my mom's side, and one on my dad's. The pictures include trips to Alaska by their much younger parents, looking dapper and utterly 1970's. There's also some "boudoir photos" of my two aunts that were kinda creepy to send, only because I sure wouldn't want to see that kind of picture of my own mother. Ewwww. Some day my own children and grandchildren will look at old pictures of me and my husband and laugh. Seriously, LAUGH.

My husband just called that a friend's wife died. She wasn't that old and from what we know right now she had a minor procedure, was in the hospital and then died. Her brother called her husband at work and the assistant principal took him to the airport to fly down to Anchorage. I feel like I want to just burst into tears. Right now my heart is breaking for this poor man. He adored his wife and they were truly good, good people. She made Jed these miniature Carhartt overalls when he was a baby, complete with a Carhartt patch, from recycled grown up overalls. A year and 4 days ago, I got a call at work that my dad died. I'll never forget the sound of my brother's voice on the phone. I hurt so badly for my brother; I think I hurt more for him than I did for myself. I spent this morning in what I thought was the beginning of my big day of "getting stuff done" but now I just want to curl up somewhere and cry. Losing someone to death can't be "fixed&

One year ago today I got the call from my brother that my dad had died. Today, I don't feel sad but I'm sure thinking of the old man. When I went through my dad's stuff, I found the following quote that he had printed off and saved, and then later copied into his journal. I like it. "So died a man both great and good, who, like all the erring human race, mingled some defects with his virtues; yet they were with him so open and natural that they enable us the better to feel the reality of his excellences, as part of a character that is set before us in all its merely human proportions, and claims no ideal perfection"

"In writing, fidelity to fact leads eventually to the poetry of truth." "Good writing can be defined as having something to say and saying it well. When one has nothing to say, one should remain silent. Silence is always beautiful at such times." ~ Edward Abbey I'm thinking about writing this morning, about truth, and poetry and faith. And it's ironic because I'm pondering these concepts while watching NFL football, an example of modern society's desire to return to a gladitorial past and lull the masses with vicarious battle. It's more ironic because I'm contemplating faith and truth after I sent my family off to church, though not necessarily to worship, and I stayed home. This morning I'm worshiping the word and the world. And a good cup of hot coffee.

Yesterday I vented a la blog. I posed rhetorical questions about the nature of blog readers. If my blog opens in the forest and there's no one there to read it, does it make a sound? I am fortunate to have folks who read my blog... heck, when I started writing it was my hope was that no one would ever find it. Now that I know some folks do read it, it's changed my narrative perspective a bit, which might be a good thing. Either way, it just "is." So thank you to those who read, and hopefully you get a chuckle or a thought to repay you for your time spent reading. Please don't read the previous post as a cry for comments; it was mainly my musings on the nature of writing. No one who writes, from the closet journal writer to a published novelist ever knows for sure that s/he will have an audience, that people will read and enjoy and give feedback. We write for ourselves, because there's a fire within that requires it, that forces the words into the world.

Today was "one of those" days. Frozen drain pipes, trips to dentists, cars not starting, puppy pooping in place puppies shouldn't poop, cold water in the shower - you name it. The upside is that my husband had to spend part of the day at home dealing with the "stuff." So got to snuggle him and take a nap while he worked. Today I'm wondering what got into me to start this massive organizing project and whether I can bring myself to finish it. I'm repeating to myself that I will pack a box tonight and visit the post office tomorrow. I will pack a box tonight and visit the post office tomorrow. Today I'm wondering whether anyone ever reads these blogs. Sheila the Great lets me know with a comment or two, and I occasionally get feedback over the phone from my blood relatives. It's almost like the time capsule we put in the dining room wall, where I wrote a letter to the future. I'm sending my words & thoughts out into cyberspace, out i

For some reason I started thinking about imagery in literature; I think it was talking with a colleague about teaching great books. After flipping through my mental roladex about great images from literature which have impacted me, I started thinking a bit about images from my life that have endured. It struck me as funny that some were in South Dakota. I supposed that South Dakota is a nice enough place. Geographically it's more interesting than North Dakota, and those other middle states that all seem to run together for me. The Badlands are really quite beautiful. The first time I drove through the Badlands, I had no idea what to expect. I'd read about them in Louis L'Amour novels and in my mind they were associated with outlaws and ambushes. My first view of their colors and almost surreal beauty is imprinted on my mind. One minute I'm driving down a road surrounded by prairie and suddenly there are gorgeous, layered landforms like I had never seen. A friend onc

So tonight my mom sent me a message that "my blog misses me." Made me smile for a couple of reasons. One is that she's an encouraging mom. I could take the message as "You're doing a good job honey. Keep trying!" (You need to imagine a little old lady mom voice saying this, if you will.) The other is that, not only did I ever think I might be writing a blog, but it NEVER occurred to me that, once I did, anyone would read it - let alone my mother. It's a funny world. Luckily for me, my mother is who she is. I don't need to censor myself to protect my mother - she's seen my faults and foibles and loves me anyway. Now she once told me, "I'll always love you, but right now I don't LIKE you very much." Straight talk and tough love, which was exactly what I needed. I'm lucky in that I really like my mom. She's got a great sense of humor, appreciates a nice martini, and we always have a blast when we're together. O

I'm making lots of lists lately and figured I'd keep going. Since I often get asked what my favorite books are and I can never answer, here are a few books I think are worth reading. Siddartha , by Herman Hesse. The book that changed my way of viewing the world. The Stand , by Stephen King. One of the best books ever. Archetypal good vs. evil, great writing, and interesting characters. Lonesome Dove , by Larry McMurty. Never have I experienced such real and rounded characters on the written page. The Lust Lizard of Melancholy Cove , by Christopher Moore. Laugh out loud funny and strange. A Prayer for Owen Meany , by John Irving. Funny but thought provoking. I think better, but very different than Cider House Rules, World According to Garp or Hotel New Hampshire . To Kill a Mockingbird , by Harper Lee. Classic coming of age. The Prince of Tides , by Pat Conroy. I think he'll be recognized as one of the great writers of the age. This one has sentences that are abso

I keep getting asked if I'm made any New Year's resolutions. The reality is that I don't like New Year's resolutions. They seem like an excuse for failure to me. And why should we need a calendar to make us promise to do things we should be doing anyway? However, this break from routine does offer me a chance to stop and take stock of my situation. By February 15 I need to let the school district know my plans for next year. Right now my plan is to go back to teaching at my school, doing what I can to focus on teaching and staying out of building & district politics. So my goal between now and next August needs to be to get myself physical and mentally prepared for the grand return. This means I do need to start to exercise. Exercise is a critical piece for me to be able to deal with stress, so I need to work on getting physically fit. I'd love to get back where I can run. I used to have a great love/hate relationship with running but I always felt so power