in loco parentis; amor tussisque non celantur

-> not much can be better than being at teacher -- or in my case, teacher-librarian -- at the holidays. in the staff lounge, the special ed teacher smiled peacefully as he carefully cut up pumpkin pies for his students. a wan-looking boy stood w/our tall jovial dutch cafeteria manager; while here, the boy had only patches of hair while he recovered from cancer, but now that his hair’s grown back, he’s razored it off. his hands worried his sweatshirt pockets. “how are you, j?” i asked, & he tucked his head & replied, “oh, ok, i guess. i overslept & missed the bus.” “looking forward to the holidays?” i asked, & he replied, yeah, i guess so. “get to sleep late, don’t have to go to school,” said i, & he grinned a little. “things aren’t so bad, are they?” said i, & he said, “no, i guess they’re not,” & smiled.
-> today i brought cranberry sauce & chicken, since my students said they’d never had the former… i continue to be amazed by what many of these kids have never experienced! skinny little v, toothy & spiky-haired, poked his head in and wished me a happy thanksgiving. my students, “the low class,” roll into the library here little by little, being normally as a group late for school, carrying their bags of goodies for our class thanksgiving. “put them by the president,” i say, & they set their bags by the two framed pictures of youthful, beaming president obama i have there, one a letter to our school thanking us for our congratulations to him upon his election, the other emblazoned with the words “at the moment that we persuade a child, any child, to cross that threshold, that magic threshold into a library, we change their lives forever, for the better. it is an enormous force for good.”
yesterday, although awfully sick still w/hives & now swollen gums, i got to have quality time w/two powerful, loving women, then w/3 of my favorite men, my band. today i leave here, stop off at the grocery store, then it’s home to attempt to make memphis mike’s famous gumbo (please pray for me, whose fridge bears the motto “i kiss better than i cook,” purchased for me by my family). these dang cortisone pills are really making me feel weak & weird, but tomorrow if i’m at all better, i’ll drive out to hart park for the 6 am phantom pie run. you run as far as you like, sez andy noise, & admission’s a mere pumpkin pie (on sale 2/$5 at foodmaxx). you can’t miss it, if you drive out to hart pk. 100s of happy, hale folks participate & there’s lots of breakfast grub available! (btw, if you’re looking for a tasty, tiny sweet potato pie just for you, try louisiana chicken & chinese down on union near the welfare office.)
-> in class, we wrote about being thankful & i put on charlie brown thanksgiving (barely audible above their keyed up clamor) & the ones who’d brought food served from a line of desks w/little a., smart but a space cadet, to my side cheerfully serving pumpkin pie, & my wild, restless, often confused & angry class got fed & got to talk & gentled down just a little, not by my definition of “good manners,” of course, but i could tell they were happy, so that was what was most important today.
-> around my teaching time, the library teemed all day w/loud, excited, happy middle schoolers. after the last bell, a score or so stayed to play on the computers & to practice w/me for next wk’s spelling bee. i limited their study to 3 language families so that they wouldn’t be too overwhelmed, & to look into their innocent, discerning faces as they strained to find the next letter of that next latin, arabic, or “asian language” word was priceless & precious & i got that happy waft. these kids, our future, trust us w/their lives & we willingly act “in loco parentis,” sometimes more so than their own birth folks. of course they need every one of us, not just teachers, to help shepherd them to happy adulthood.
-> a few days ago here at school, they had a turkey trot. today, boys & girls from grades 6-8 took home to families free birds, donated by the teachers. yes, there is much for which to give thanks. kindness, charity, friendship, love, music: the air is palpable with the goodness of humankind & the life process &, many would say, god.
-> may your holidays be filled w/contemplation, gratitude, love, & all that is good.

hope this verse'll do; if not, voodoodoo doodoo you (ipod ramblings)

(note: first word is the unstressed syllable. now you may proceed.)

when did careful mix tapes turn to shuffled ipods?
why am i writing in verse, you might mention?
moreover, when most of my mind's on the nod
why do i perversely attempt to do scansion???

well, i feel a slight pressure lately to write
so scribble i shall, while music a-listenin'
tho life's quite mundane, really, to be polite
...downright boring's the actual description

yeah, i got hives the other day bad
and wanted to jump off a cliff and to drink
but dad sez it's stress and that caused me glad
cause stressors will terminate with time's what i think

now phil alvin's on, my future ex-husband
tho i know he's even more batty than i be
i first saw his face when four plus a dozen
and broadsided by hormones went blasters-band crazy

so now i'm just sittin and drinking detox tea
helped angie move to new house this p.m.
hoping this stupid itch will soon leave me be
so tomorrow with dusk devils i'll flat-git-out rock 'em

so now you can see why i ain't a verse writer
it's so hard to focus when allergy's're itchin
please comment and tell me how you be a fighter
cause when i pay heed to you i stop a-bitchin

ps - re below comments: no, that's not my sister, but my friend tammy in the pic, tho surely we are genetic relatives along some branch of the human tree, further evidenced by our nasal resemblance... & no, heheheheh, that's not me on the rev horton heat poster, but thanks for making my evening picturing that while i sit here itching & scratching & feeling like some bloated leviathan, wondering what the heck i'm allergic to this time aside from the whole frigging planet earth.
aaah.... the isleys... aaah... the red devils... aaah slim harpo... life is good in spite of me. :)
btw, you can still buy big manny's christmas LP, on which i participated, at this website: The Big Manny Christmas Album

4 am

no one should be up at this hr.

discipline & unsung stories

- updike would rise early each a.m., head to his upstairs, & dutifully write for 3 hrs. kerouac supposedly wrote on the rd by feeding a 120-ft roll of paper into his typewriter & letting fly. somewhere between's people like me (neither disciplined nor dope-driven, most of us toil in obscurity, which is just fine w/me). as a kid, i loved nothing but the piano more than my portable olivetti, & i'd clack away daily at it: imitation chandler & hammett, detective stories, marx bros script, feverish tales of my cousin, sister & i meeting the beegees (i was a KID after all!). never finished a one, & my niece is now the same, tho she writes her feverish tales by hand & they revolve around androgynous j-rockers.
- as much as music, people, exercise, & finding shiny objects on the ground, i just love to write, & besides a behemoth of a masters thesis & yrs in jr reportage, i do it for self-expression -- tho i spose there's always a bit of social agenda there, since i AM a teacher from a family of teachers &, tho yes a little smudged by a kinda sordid but mostly garden-variety-drunk past, basically am a goody two-shoes... i like to be good, & i like people who read what i write to feel good, & i keep that in mind while writing. yes, nihilism, marker of my youth, is gone, & therefore, i guess, so are my tender yrs, & good riddance, i say!
- haven't written for many days, so it's time, is the idea. things’ve been up & down: lots of headaches/sore throats probably due to our poisonous air; much time w/family & friends; enjoying crisp-autumnal clime; did 1/2 marathon the other day & am still somewhat crippled by the bout (time was 2:19, not bad for a non-athlete like me)...
- see, i've always been in this place & tho for a while chronicled my mostly-drunken escapades in a comic (look to link @ right for true tales of glumglum), @ times i glaringly know i just don’t have much that’s exciting to write of.. however, i DO know people who’ve had fascinating lives, & i trumpet here & hope they read & are inspired to finally get some of their stories down!
- here, for instance, is my dear friend donna's nativity scene: step-dad is coming home off the rd; he's stand-in for hank snow when hank's too drunk to get on stage & sing. he walks in & donna's dear mom's laying across the kitchen table w/the other kids standing worriedly around, mom’s yelling, "i'm having the baby!!!", step-dad runs across the rm, slashes down the venetian blind cord & uses it to tie off & cut baby donna's umbilical cord.
- what a frigging entrance!! donna's hilarious & weird story "the worm" is at that link at right, & she has tons & tons more. what an amazing life, & she’s gotta lot more to live!
- another friend's lived in new orleans, israel, the whole east coast, london, west LA, & more, i'm sure. he just sort of opens his mouth & amazing nuggets fall out, such as "in israel, all the foreign beatniks'd go hang out on this one corner & wait for work & you'd do a different job every day, like work in a bakery or as a courier or at the olive market, & then at the end of the day me & the englishmen’d drink at the bar & you know, i'm so lucky i got to speak french w/the arabs there bc they just love the french language so much!" or "when i had malaria & dropped down to 85 lbs [guy’s over 6 ft tall] & was waiting to be shipped back to the US, the only book in the hospital was the old testament, which i ended up reading 3 times cover to cover cause i was so bored," or “i remember when i played a reporter in forrest gump…” or "the 3rd time i got my nose broke"... get this guy a biographer!!
- and aunty rita? she lived all over the u.s. as well as in el salvador when uncle henry worked shutdown on nuke plants & she just bursts w/stories: armed guards escorting her to the mall in salvador; carjacked at gunpt in miami beach & then the thief got on the fwy & got stuck in a traffic jam & the cops got him; dancing w/merle haggard & all the honky-tonk hunks when she was the knockout-life of the party in the 50s-60s; living on buttermilk & cigarettes a smitten cowboy’d bring her every single morning to nurse her hangovers when she worked at the bank; coming to in the bushes & knocking on the window, but her sister wouldn't let her in the house… (well, ok, i DID live that particular story…) my long-time friend, big gruff dm, tells of partying at his friend chief’s pad while dm was a hollywood high student, putting down the bong to espy a stretch limo outside, & next thing he knows, in walks elvis! yes, none of these stories’ve been written down… til now… so you read it here 1st! :)
- i should be more like dad, local historian, who gets wind of others’ fascinating lives & patiently but doggedly pursues til they spill. dad, the quiet but politely subversive gentleman w/matinee looks who has always lived w/in 6 miles of his birth, is someone who thrills @ others’ narratives (b rode sidecar as a motorcycle ice racer in colorado; uncle henry went out on the nuclear sub, where they couldn’t shower for the 1st month cause the stalls were filled w/smokes & booze; steve strelich stood in for movie stars, did marathon swims & dances, & met a dictator before starting up a wrestling arena that still stands here in bakersfield). yes, dad really listens & truly loves interviewing & getting down on paper the adventures of others. he honors others, in so doing! please click here to read some of dad’s work: www.gilbertgia.com
- well, aside from getting marmalade at the bent ‘n’ dent for my students (who’ve never heard of or tasted it) & some terrific books @ the goodwill, "my" tale for tonight’s been told, so if you’ve got a story that needs telling, post it, post it, cause why the heck not??! life’s too short to sit back & wait for someone else to sing your story, & even if you’ve not traveled far, as friends mentioned here have, i believe that a tale well-told can take place right in your kitchen, bathroom, backyard, or noggin...

feliz semana/fotos de tammy (y yo y mi banda)

well, merle haggard was at trout's sat night. and cash'd out at f-lips sunday. and i saw none of it!!! but my wkend was super swell & hope yours was, too. :) it's a golden morning... may all be well...

blablablablablablabla & a get-well-soon to jani's foot

it's saturday!!! aaaaaaaaahhhhh!!! :) :) :) :)
how are you? i'm hoping the burning pinch above my left eye will be loosened by this cup of coffee i drink, heated on the stove so as not to wake my visiting friend who is snoring away in the living rm (if an ant walks across the ceiling in this little place, everyone wakes up!)... was supposed to do a walk w/jani this a.m., charity for family survivors of suicides, but jani dropped the new fridge on her foot, so no walking for her. if you read this, it's at harris pk... later, tho, i might pick her up cause mama's having a tea party. doesn't that sound quaint? right now, once the pinch evaporates, i will run to the farmer's mkt. if you didn't know, there's one every sat a.m. out front of montgomery world plaza on F st near golden state. a friend says an rx said it's worth the extra dough, if you can swing it, to get organic. i just know the apples i got there a few wks ago were juicy-sensational! ...missed my friend british bard david nigel lloyd's show last night at dagney's due to being under the weather, but here's his site: www.davidnigellloyd.com - did see an awesome harvest moon, fecund-golden in the night, over duck park (central). if you haven't been to central pk, directly behind the art museum, thru which the kern river is prettily channeled & darling ducks wiggle & swim, GO!!! it's one of the nicest things around... did you read about the old man who saved the other from pit bull attack? while others took pix/video of the former being ripped to shreds by the dogs, or stood by frozen in horror, 67-yr old andy castaneda used his cane to beat off the dogs, saving the other guy's life. we have heroes amongst us!! a big-city friend has caused me lately to appreciate this place a little more bc yesterday i quite easily was able to get a thank you to andy castaneda (thru felix & steve @ the cal)... we can walk our wide sts @ night in relative quiet & safety, we run into one another in passing @ the mkt or strolling downtown, our traffic isn't too too too bad: yes, i guess this place (except for particulate smog, brain drain, & scary jingoism-fundamentalism) isn't so bad in some ways... yes, if discussions of politics & religion generally are avoided, we are some nice folks, relative to some places!
ok, enough stalling, time to go get in a few miles... may your wkend be very, very, very long... & mine, too! :)

gratitude

ohhh... have a headache/sore throat & am being attacked by delusions of obesity. time for a gratitude list!
1. being a dusk devil; 2. pizza & chicken & fries w/the fellers last night on randy claus; 3. not too hot these days in bakersfield; 4. school success story from beaming friend who usually doesn't smile enough; 5. planning & imagining & dreaming up another band trip; 6. gina marie & toni; 7. learning new songs last night; 8. randy's nice kid; 9. the comedy team of philbert & krambo; 10. my little shelter; 11. reading interesting book called nickeled & dimed (donated by woman who read my article in the paper); 12. spoke spanish a lot today at parent-teacher conferences & really enjoyed it, tho i likely sounded mentally challenged & my brain hurt afterward; 13. compliment from school grandma on article on importance of libraries that the cal ran 2 wks ago; 14. running the track & just being around the nice kids at our school; 15. friendly, sympathetic chat w/nice school mom who's also getting divorced; 16. will hang out w/family tonight & do my laundry; 17. stephanie & sylvia; 18. free californian at the farmer boy contained cryptogram & pic of beaming brown old man who saved another from pit bulls by beating them off w/his cane (it just made you blubber to read it, or at the least, be moved); 19. egg sandwich w/lettuce at farmer boy; 20. alice & other nice people at my school.
21. about to lie down for a quick snooze before an appt i hope will continue to extricate my head from my can. the hour has arrived...zzzzzzzz....