Irene Latham's Blog, page 41
July 28, 2019
The Butterfly Hours Memoir Project: NEIGHBOR
For 2019 I'm running a year-long series on my blog in which I share my responses to the writing assignment prompts found in THE BUTTERLY HOURS by Patty Dann.
I welcome you to join me, if you like! I've divided the prompts by month, and the plan is to respond to 3 (or so) a week. For some of these I may write poems, for others prose. The important thing is to mine my memory. Who knows where this exploration will lead?
For links to the prompts I've written on so far this year, please click on The Butterfly Hours tab above.
This month's prompts include: mail, moon, mouse, moving, museum, music, music lesson, name, necklace, neighbor, nightgown.
NEIGHBOR
The combination of my introversion and the fact that we moved a lot might explain why no faces/people pop immediately to mind upon hearing the word “neighbor.” I know we lived in neighborhoods on a couple of occasions... and even when we lived in rural areas, we weren't alone out there. But the only neighborly memory that comes to mind is one from Ft. Meade, FL. My sister and I, both in elementary school (1st and 3rd grades, I think), would walk several blocks to and from school. On our way home one day, one of us really needed to go to the bathroom, so we just knocked on someone's door and asked if we could use theirs. A kind elderly woman answered the door and welcomed us inside. We did what we had to do, said goodbye, and then carried on with the rest of the walk. Now parent-me is horrified to remember this story! So many bad things could have happened! But they didn't. And I kind of love that we trusted the world enough that we were willing to knock on a stranger's door to ask for what we needed. I want the world to be that trustworthy. Note to any young readers: please do NOT go inside a stranger's house without a parent or other trusted grown-up!
I welcome you to join me, if you like! I've divided the prompts by month, and the plan is to respond to 3 (or so) a week. For some of these I may write poems, for others prose. The important thing is to mine my memory. Who knows where this exploration will lead?For links to the prompts I've written on so far this year, please click on The Butterfly Hours tab above.
This month's prompts include: mail, moon, mouse, moving, museum, music, music lesson, name, necklace, neighbor, nightgown.
NEIGHBOR
The combination of my introversion and the fact that we moved a lot might explain why no faces/people pop immediately to mind upon hearing the word “neighbor.” I know we lived in neighborhoods on a couple of occasions... and even when we lived in rural areas, we weren't alone out there. But the only neighborly memory that comes to mind is one from Ft. Meade, FL. My sister and I, both in elementary school (1st and 3rd grades, I think), would walk several blocks to and from school. On our way home one day, one of us really needed to go to the bathroom, so we just knocked on someone's door and asked if we could use theirs. A kind elderly woman answered the door and welcomed us inside. We did what we had to do, said goodbye, and then carried on with the rest of the walk. Now parent-me is horrified to remember this story! So many bad things could have happened! But they didn't. And I kind of love that we trusted the world enough that we were willing to knock on a stranger's door to ask for what we needed. I want the world to be that trustworthy. Note to any young readers: please do NOT go inside a stranger's house without a parent or other trusted grown-up!
July 26, 2019
Come, Let's Climb Some Shadows, Shall We?
Hello and Happy Poetry Friday! Be sure to visit Margaret at Reflections on the Teche for Roundup.With the help of my really excellent library system, I've been catching up on poetry books released the first half of 2019. One that I'm completely enamored of is CLIMBING SHADOWS by Shannon Bramer, pictures by Cindy Derby, brought to us by Groundswood Books.
In this collection, the author wrote a poem for each child in a Kindergarten class -- which all by itself is such a lovely thing! The poems are as varied as the children who inspired them. And the art is delightful!
There are fun poems like “Skeleton Song” (you can imagine) and“The Envelope” which begins
“My mommy is an envelopean antelope an artichokea fine porcupine”
In “Three Hearts and No Bones at All,”
“Octopuses dream of climbing trees. They wantto climb trees more than anything else in the world.”
There are heartbreaking poems, like “afterschool,” which tells of a hard day and ends with “I want/to be a puddle.”
You'll find thoughtful poems, too, like “You Speak Violets” which begins...
"sometimes you are quiet as a trillium yet your eyes speak,the language of wild basil red butterflies impatient"
My favorite might be “Eleanor's Poem”which catalogs all the ways this poem is “just like Eleanor.” Like...
“This poem is tired of wearing a pink snowsuit,just like Eleanor.”
I'm pretty sure my poems feel that way sometimes, too. :)
Wordplay, imagination, surprise emotion, child appeal... it's all here! Please do check it out!
July 24, 2019
The Butterfly Hours Memoir Project: NECKLACE
First of all: Happy Birthday to my sweet sister Lynn, whom I adore!
For 2019 I'm running a year-long series on my blog in which I share my responses to the writing assignment prompts found in THE BUTTERLY HOURS by Patty Dann.
I welcome you to join me, if you like! I've divided the prompts by month, and the plan is to respond to 3 (or so) a week. For some of these I may write poems, for others prose. The important thing is to mine my memory. Who knows where this exploration will lead?
For links to the prompts I've written on so far this year, please click on The Butterfly Hours tab above.
This month's prompts include: mail, moon, mouse, moving, museum, music, music lesson, name, necklace, neighbor, nightgown.
NECKLACE
<!-- @page { margin: 0.79in } P { margin-bottom: 0.08in } </style> <br />--> <div style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">When I was a teen I was gifted a gold cross and an amethyst (my birthstone) cross by my mother. I am not religious, so I no longer wear these pieces, but they are still dear to me. Another dear piece is the real gold chain with a gold camel pendant from Saudi Arabia. </span></span></span></span></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sbn85BRZhK..." imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sbn85BRZhK..." width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">pearl-heart necklace<br />from Ken</td></tr></tbody></table><div style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">But probably the most touching and unexpected necklace I ever got was from my brother Ken (who is 17 months older than me). When I was 16 (I think!) he gave me a jewelry set that included (imitation) pearl heart pendant, pearl heart earrings and a pearl heart pin. Ken never gave me gifts like that, but that year he did. It was such a surprise, and I absolutely loved it! In fact, I still have the set, over 30 years later! </span></span></span></span></div><div style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">I also had a boyfriend during college who gave me an adorable locket that had a picture of wee me on one side, and a picture of wee him on the other... and also “Love, [his name]” engraved on the back. We broke up (obviously) but I *think* I still have the locket – and it's sweet to remember. </span></span></span></span></div><div style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Paul has gifted me with some wonderful pieces of jewelry over the years, including expensive pieces, art show and roadside finds, favorites from <a href="https://www.sundancecatalog.com/"... catalog</a> (my favorite!), and some completely unexpected ones (like the <a href="https://irenelatham.blogspot.com/2012... pendant</a> in celebration of the release of DON'T FEED THE BOY). </span></span></span></span></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CQ4LWMkRjA..." imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CQ4LWMkRjA..." width="239" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">choker from my father</td></tr></tbody></table><div style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">My father also gave me a necklace that's dear to me – a turquoise and black bead choker made by a woman of the Lakota nation and purchased in Mandan, ND. I've never worn it because it's too big for my neck, and I haven't found anyone (yet) to alter it for me. I need to!</span></span></span></span></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
For 2019 I'm running a year-long series on my blog in which I share my responses to the writing assignment prompts found in THE BUTTERLY HOURS by Patty Dann.
I welcome you to join me, if you like! I've divided the prompts by month, and the plan is to respond to 3 (or so) a week. For some of these I may write poems, for others prose. The important thing is to mine my memory. Who knows where this exploration will lead?For links to the prompts I've written on so far this year, please click on The Butterfly Hours tab above.
This month's prompts include: mail, moon, mouse, moving, museum, music, music lesson, name, necklace, neighbor, nightgown.
NECKLACE
<!-- @page { margin: 0.79in } P { margin-bottom: 0.08in } </style> <br />--> <div style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">When I was a teen I was gifted a gold cross and an amethyst (my birthstone) cross by my mother. I am not religious, so I no longer wear these pieces, but they are still dear to me. Another dear piece is the real gold chain with a gold camel pendant from Saudi Arabia. </span></span></span></span></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sbn85BRZhK..." imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sbn85BRZhK..." width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">pearl-heart necklace<br />from Ken</td></tr></tbody></table><div style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">But probably the most touching and unexpected necklace I ever got was from my brother Ken (who is 17 months older than me). When I was 16 (I think!) he gave me a jewelry set that included (imitation) pearl heart pendant, pearl heart earrings and a pearl heart pin. Ken never gave me gifts like that, but that year he did. It was such a surprise, and I absolutely loved it! In fact, I still have the set, over 30 years later! </span></span></span></span></div><div style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">I also had a boyfriend during college who gave me an adorable locket that had a picture of wee me on one side, and a picture of wee him on the other... and also “Love, [his name]” engraved on the back. We broke up (obviously) but I *think* I still have the locket – and it's sweet to remember. </span></span></span></span></div><div style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Paul has gifted me with some wonderful pieces of jewelry over the years, including expensive pieces, art show and roadside finds, favorites from <a href="https://www.sundancecatalog.com/"... catalog</a> (my favorite!), and some completely unexpected ones (like the <a href="https://irenelatham.blogspot.com/2012... pendant</a> in celebration of the release of DON'T FEED THE BOY). </span></span></span></span></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CQ4LWMkRjA..." imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CQ4LWMkRjA..." width="239" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">choker from my father</td></tr></tbody></table><div style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">My father also gave me a necklace that's dear to me – a turquoise and black bead choker made by a woman of the Lakota nation and purchased in Mandan, ND. I've never worn it because it's too big for my neck, and I haven't found anyone (yet) to alter it for me. I need to!</span></span></span></span></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
July 21, 2019
The Butterfly Hours Memoir Project: NAME
For 2019 I'm running a year-long series on my blog in which I share my responses to the writing assignment prompts found in THE BUTTERLY HOURS by Patty Dann.
I welcome you to join me, if you like! I've divided the prompts by month, and the plan is to respond to 3 (or so) a week. For some of these I may write poems, for others prose. The important thing is to mine my memory. Who knows where this exploration will lead?
For links to the prompts I've written on so far this year, please click on The Butterfly Hours tab above.
This month's prompts include: mail, moon, mouse, moving, museum, music, music lesson, name, necklace, neighbor, nightgown.
NAME
I've written here before about
1. Each year I download the audibooks offered for free as part of the summer SYNC program. This week I listened to BECOMING KAREEM by Kareem Abdul-Jabbar and Raymond Obstfeld, performed by Kareem Abdul-Jabbar. The whole book is framed around Kareem's name-change and how this was how he "became" himself, instead of allowing himself to be defined/named by others. I LOVE this book. It's one of those I'd probably never have read, if not for SYNC. And isn't that the beauty of a program like this? Accessibility, availability... it matters.
2. I've been kind of obsessed with one Alexander von Humboldt ever since last year when I read THE INVENTION OF NATURE by Andrea Wulf. More things in the world are named after Humboldt than any other human... and yet many people have never heard of him! If you haven't heard of him, do pick up this book! You'll be fascinated by Humboldt's adventures and discoveries... and now there's a also a (giant!) graphic novel that offers an account of his 1799-1804 expedition to South America. Check it out!
I welcome you to join me, if you like! I've divided the prompts by month, and the plan is to respond to 3 (or so) a week. For some of these I may write poems, for others prose. The important thing is to mine my memory. Who knows where this exploration will lead?For links to the prompts I've written on so far this year, please click on The Butterfly Hours tab above.
This month's prompts include: mail, moon, mouse, moving, museum, music, music lesson, name, necklace, neighbor, nightgown.
NAME
I've written here before about
1. Each year I download the audibooks offered for free as part of the summer SYNC program. This week I listened to BECOMING KAREEM by Kareem Abdul-Jabbar and Raymond Obstfeld, performed by Kareem Abdul-Jabbar. The whole book is framed around Kareem's name-change and how this was how he "became" himself, instead of allowing himself to be defined/named by others. I LOVE this book. It's one of those I'd probably never have read, if not for SYNC. And isn't that the beauty of a program like this? Accessibility, availability... it matters.
2. I've been kind of obsessed with one Alexander von Humboldt ever since last year when I read THE INVENTION OF NATURE by Andrea Wulf. More things in the world are named after Humboldt than any other human... and yet many people have never heard of him! If you haven't heard of him, do pick up this book! You'll be fascinated by Humboldt's adventures and discoveries... and now there's a also a (giant!) graphic novel that offers an account of his 1799-1804 expedition to South America. Check it out!
July 20, 2019
The Butterfly Hours Memoir Project: MUSEUM
<!-- @page { margin: 0.79in } P { margin-bottom: 0.08in } </style> <br />--> For 2019 I'm running a year-long series on my blog in which I share my responses to the writing assignment prompts found in <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Butterfly-Hour... BUTTERLY HOURS by Patty Dann.</a><br /><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0.08in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0.08in;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0.08in;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0.08in;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0.08in;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pbJRbgZiKH..." imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="346" data-original-width="231" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pbJRbgZiKH..." width="213" /></a>I welcome you to join me, if you like! I've divided the prompts by month, and the plan is to respond to 3 (or so) a week. For some of these I may write poems, for others prose. The important thing is to mine my memory. Who knows where this exploration will lead?</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0.08in;"><br /></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "roboto" , "arial";">For links to the prompts I've written on so far this year, please click on <a href="https://irenelatham.blogspot.com/p/th... Butterfly Hours</a> tab above. </span></span><br /><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "roboto" , "arial";"><br /></span></span></div></div><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "roboto" , "arial";">This month's prompts include:</span><span style="font-family: "roboto" , "arial";"> </span><i style="font-family: roboto, arial;">mail, moon, mouse, moving, museum, music, music lesson, name, necklace, neighbor, nightgown.</i></span></span></span></span><br /><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><b><br /></b></span></span></span></span><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><b>MUSEUM</b></span></span></span></span><br /><div style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div style="font-weight: normal;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-efzth0HrRH..." imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-efzth0HrRH..." width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Irene & Lynn<br />laughing and learning<br />with a big mirror<br />this past fall<br />at a museum gift shop :)</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">The earliest memory I have of going to a museum on my own was as a 16 year old new driver on my first road trip with my sister Lynn from Birmingham, AL to Port St. Joe, FL to visit our grandparents. I'm a little horrified and impressed when I think about us jumping into the car for a 7 hour trip with no parents, no cell phones, no gps. We knew the way, because we've gone so many times before. And if we got turned around, we had a road atlas. We'd be fine. “Call us when you get there,” my mother instructed. And off we went! </span></span></span></span></div><div style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">First we stopped in at the <a href="https://www.pioneer-museum.org/"... Museum</a> in Troy, Alabama – which is about half-way. The Pioneer has a locomotive out front, several old buildings, like a school and a church. Inside there's old farm equipment and a printing press – stuff like that. Aside: This past week when I drove past the Pioneer I saw that it has a bright new sign. I'm glad to see the place is still thriving. Maybe I'll stop in sometime soon.</span></span></span></span></div><div style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></div><div style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">While we were in Port St. Joe, Lynn and I decided to visit the <a href="https://www.floridastateparks.org/par... Convention Museum State Park. </a> Which must have pleased my father very much! (My father and I shared, among many things, a museum habit.) I remember wandering through the grounds and exhibit hall, reading signs about 1830s life, laughing, and learning. Lynn and I did a lot of that together. We still do! :)</span></span></span></span></div><br />
July 19, 2019
Sneak Peek: FINDING TREASURE by Michelle Schaub
Hello and Happy Poetry Friday! Be sure to visit Carol at Carol's Corner for Roundup. I've had a lovely time this week with my turning-11 adopted little sister ... we've been busy swimming and playing piano and shopping and making funny videos... the one of her teaching Paul to do the floss dance is pretty hysterical! :)
In poetry news, today I am happy to welcome to the blog Michelle Schaub, to talk about her new poetry book Finding Treasure: A Collection of Collections, illustrations by Carmen Saldaña, coming September 17, 2019 from the good folks at Charlesbridge. I met Michelle at WWU Poetry Camp in 2016, just after my farmers' market collection had been released, and just before hers would be released! So we've known for a while we have things in common. :) Which is why I wasn't surprised to learn her newest poetry book is about something else near and dear to my heart: collections!
Michelle's farmers' market book,illustration by Amy Huntington -
who also illustrated one of my
forthcoming 2020 books,
NINE: A Book of Nonet Poems.
my farmers' market book,illustrated by Mique MoriuchiAbout FINDING TREASURE:When her class is assigned to bring in favorite collections for show and tell, our young narrator panics. She doesn’t have a collection! In search of inspiration, she turns to family and friends. Mom collects buttons. Grandpa collects coins. Even the mailman has a collection. Is there time to start a new collection? Or find an abandoned one in the attic? Join the treasure hunt in this story told through poems.
And now, here's Michelle, responding to a few simple prompts:
The difficult:
MS: When I started brainstorming different types of collections to include in Finding Treasure, some obvious ones popped into my mind: coins, rocks, shells, baseball cards. I definitely wanted to represent time-honored forms of collecting, but I also wanted to include surprises. I did some research and found several unique collections.
Some I decided to include, like snow globes, but others were just a little too strange for a children’s book. So, I forced myself to think outside the box. Would it be possible to collect something intangible? This led to the poem “My Mail Carrier’s Cache” about a postal worker who collects smiles. Do scientists collect anything? This led to the poem “The Gist of Collecting.” (By the way, getting scientific names like “dipterologist” to fit the poem’s meter presented its own difficulty.) I was also challenged to have the protagonist come up with a collection that fit her personality, was different from the other collections in the book, and came as a bit of a surprise. Read the final poem “My Treasure Found” to see if I accomplished this!The delicious:
MS: As a poet, I love the challenge of shaping my words and ideas into specific poetry forms. Finding the right word and rhythm to meet specific parameters is as satisfying as fitting an elusive piece into a puzzle.
see complete vanity plate poem below!To that end, I played with many different poetry forms in Finding Treasure, from double dactyl to rondeau. But the form I found most delicious is one I made up: a vanity plate poem. (
Note from Irene: this makes me think of Donna, who collects - ! - interesting vanity plates via her camera.
) I knew I wanted to include a poem about someone who collects license plates because this is something my grandfather did. One entire wall in his garage was covered with old plates. While my grandfather’s license plates were just random combinations of numbers and letters, I wanted the poem I wrote to be about a collection of vanity plates. Who doesn’t love decoding those secret messages when cruising down the highway? So, I composed the poem with each line as a different vanity plate. I hope readers have as much fun solving the license plate puzzles as I did inventing them. The unexpected:
MS: The biggest, and most pleasant surprise I had with Finding Treasureis seeing how much Carmen Saldaña’s illustrations enriched my poems.
When I set out to write a new poetry collection, I try to include a narrative arc so that my poems tell a story as they progress. I did this with Fresh-Picked Poetryby structuring my poems to show a day at the market unfolding, from farmers’ early morning harvest to venders finally taking down their tents at dusk. I wanted to do this in Finding Treasurealso. In the opening poem, I set up the skeleton of a story: a child needs to bring in a collection for a school assignment, but she doesn’t collect anything. Without Carmen’s amazing illustrations, the child’s quest would not have been developed as clearly. Carmen gave the child a personality. She put her in relationship with the different characters who share their collections along the way. She created an entire community of collectors and brought depth and life to the book. Anything else:
MS: To gear up for the launch of Finding Treasure,I’ll be running a social media campaign called “Countdown to Collection” in which I feature different people’s collections. If you collect something you’d like me to share on twitter and IG, please send a picture of it (with our without yourself in the picture) to shellschaub (at) hotmail.com. Note from Irene: I sent Michelle a picture of one of my newest collections. I hope you will, too.:)
I hope Finding Treasureinspires both collectors and those who have not yet started a collection to discover their own treasures!
Find out more about Michelle Schaub and her books at www.michelleschaub.com
Thank you, Michelle, for sharing with all of us... congratulations on FINDING TREASURE! xo
July 17, 2019
The Butterfly Hours Memoir Project: MOVING (poem)
<!-- @page { margin: 0.79in } P { margin-bottom: 0.08in } </style> <br />--> <div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div style="font-style: normal;">For 2019 I'm running a year-long series on my blog in which I share my responses to the writing assignment prompts found in <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Butterfly-Hour... BUTTERLY HOURS by Patty Dann.</a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0.08in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0.08in;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0.08in;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0.08in;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0.08in;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pbJRbgZiKH..." imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="346" data-original-width="231" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pbJRbgZiKH..." width="213" /></a>I welcome you to join me, if you like! I've divided the prompts by month, and the plan is to respond to 3 (or so) a week. For some of these I may write poems, for others prose. The important thing is to mine my memory. Who knows where this exploration will lead?</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0.08in;"><br /></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "roboto" , "arial";">For links to the prompts I've written on so far this year, please click on <a href="https://irenelatham.blogspot.com/p/th... Butterfly Hours</a> tab above. </span></span><br /><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "roboto" , "arial";"><br /></span></span></div><span style="font-family: "roboto" , "arial";">This month's prompts include:</span><span style="font-family: "roboto" , "arial";"> </span><i style="font-family: roboto, arial;">mail, moon, mouse, moving, museum, music, music lesson, name, necklace, neighbor, nightgown.</i><br /><b><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><br /></span></span></span></span></b><b><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">MOVING</span></span></span></span></b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Our family moved A LOT. The year I turned 14 my father decided (or someone decided for him) that it was time to change jobs – a decision that would require my 9</span></span></span></span></span><span style="color: #222222;"><sup><span style="font-family: sans-serif , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">th</span></span></span></span></sup></span><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">move. (My father worked in hospital administration, and due to politics and personality conflicts and power grabs, those jobs are notoriously short-lived.) It came down to two possibilities: Birmingham, Alabama or Bangor, Maine. Although what I really wanted was to stay in Folsom where I was (at-last!) secure (I even arranged with a friend's family for me to live with them, but of course my parents didn't go for that!), I was rooting for Maine. (Like my father, I have an appreciation and fascination for extreme locations.) But, for whatever reasons, the decision was made for Birmingham. And so my life was made – or, so I made my life. I don't have any regrets, of course. I love my life. But I do wonder: </span></span></span></span></span><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">who might I have become if our family had moved instead to Maine?</span></i></span></span></span><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">I think I'll write a book about it. :)</span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Moving Day</span></span></span></span></b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Mama packs</span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">us into the van</span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">as Papa's camera</span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">clicks one last picture </span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">of the house –</span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><i><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">say goodbye,</span></span></span></span></i></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Mama instructs.</span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">But how do you</span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">say goodbye</span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">to the sky?</span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><i><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">- Irene Latham</span></span></span></span></i></div><br />
July 16, 2019
The Butterfly Hours Memoir Project: MOUSE (poem)
For 2019 I'm running a year-long series on my blog in which I share my responses to the writing assignment prompts found in THE BUTTERLY HOURS by Patty Dann.
I welcome you to join me, if you like! I've divided the prompts by month, and the plan is to respond to 3 (or so) a week. For some of these I may write poems, for others prose. The important thing is to mine my memory. Who knows where this exploration will lead?
For links to the prompts I've written on so far this year, please click on The Butterfly Hours tab above.
This month's prompts include: mail, moon, mouse, moving, museum, music, music lesson, name, necklace, neighbor, nightgown.
MOUSE
My first thought when I hear the word “mouse” is THE Mouse, as in Mickey Mouse of Walt Disney fame. Disney has been a big part of my life – not Mickey so much as the mice dressing Cinderella and THE RESCUERS. Other mice of my life: STUART LITTLE, MRS. FRISBY AND THE RATS OF NIMH, THE CRICKET IN TIMES SQUARE, THE TALE OF DESPEREAUX. As a college student I earned a Mouster's Degree (by far my favorite degree!) at Walt Disney World in Orlando.
Real-life mice experiences are few – most recently, using a mouse box to catch and release a family of mice that had made a home of our kitchen cabinets; feeding frozen mice to our son's pet snake; our young son Daniel being horrified by all the mouse droppings in the boat we kept in the basement; being on a poetry retreat, and first trying to catch mice (using a pillow case) from a friend's room, and then offering the friend refuge in my room when the mice kept coming.
When I mentioned this prompt yesterday to my mom, she asked me if I remembered this: when we went overseas, my mom packed shoes in boxes for us to grow into. When the time came to get the shoes out, when she opened the boxes she found a mouse nest (complete with teeny mice babies) in one of the shoes!
Here's a poem:
Give Me a Mouse Story
If you've ever watched a mouseput on a blouseyou know how tinysleeves can be
and how the seamsonce so sweet and evencan snag, zig-zagwhen caught on thorn,nail or teeth.
You can't resist a smileand a warm flush of tendernessfor those the world calls “pest”
if you've ever watched a mouseput on a blouse.
- Irene Latham
I welcome you to join me, if you like! I've divided the prompts by month, and the plan is to respond to 3 (or so) a week. For some of these I may write poems, for others prose. The important thing is to mine my memory. Who knows where this exploration will lead?For links to the prompts I've written on so far this year, please click on The Butterfly Hours tab above.
This month's prompts include: mail, moon, mouse, moving, museum, music, music lesson, name, necklace, neighbor, nightgown.
MOUSE
My first thought when I hear the word “mouse” is THE Mouse, as in Mickey Mouse of Walt Disney fame. Disney has been a big part of my life – not Mickey so much as the mice dressing Cinderella and THE RESCUERS. Other mice of my life: STUART LITTLE, MRS. FRISBY AND THE RATS OF NIMH, THE CRICKET IN TIMES SQUARE, THE TALE OF DESPEREAUX. As a college student I earned a Mouster's Degree (by far my favorite degree!) at Walt Disney World in Orlando. 
Real-life mice experiences are few – most recently, using a mouse box to catch and release a family of mice that had made a home of our kitchen cabinets; feeding frozen mice to our son's pet snake; our young son Daniel being horrified by all the mouse droppings in the boat we kept in the basement; being on a poetry retreat, and first trying to catch mice (using a pillow case) from a friend's room, and then offering the friend refuge in my room when the mice kept coming.When I mentioned this prompt yesterday to my mom, she asked me if I remembered this: when we went overseas, my mom packed shoes in boxes for us to grow into. When the time came to get the shoes out, when she opened the boxes she found a mouse nest (complete with teeny mice babies) in one of the shoes!
Here's a poem:
Give Me a Mouse Story
If you've ever watched a mouseput on a blouseyou know how tinysleeves can be
and how the seamsonce so sweet and evencan snag, zig-zagwhen caught on thorn,nail or teeth.
You can't resist a smileand a warm flush of tendernessfor those the world calls “pest”
if you've ever watched a mouseput on a blouse.
- Irene Latham
July 14, 2019
The Butterfly Hours Memoir Project: MUSIC LESSONS
For 2019 I'm running a year-long series on my blog in which I share my responses to the writing assignment prompts found in THE BUTTERLY HOURS by Patty Dann.
I welcome you to join me, if you like! I've divided the prompts by month, and the plan is to respond to 3 (or so) a week. For some of these I may write poems, for others prose. The important thing is to mine my memory. Who knows where this exploration will lead?
For links to the prompts I've written on so far this year, please click on The Butterfly Hours tab above.
This month's prompts include: mail, moon, mouse, moving, museum, music, music lesson, name, necklace, neighbor, nightgown.
<!-- @page { margin: 0.79in } P { margin-bottom: 0.08in } </style> </i></div>--> <br /><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><i style="font-family: roboto, arial;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><b>MUSIC LESSON</b></span></span></span></span></i></div><i style="font-family: roboto, arial;"></i><br /><div style="font-weight: 400; margin-bottom: 0in;"><i style="font-family: roboto, arial;"><br /></i></div><i style="font-family: roboto, arial;"></i><div style="font-weight: 400; margin-bottom: 0in;"><i style="font-family: roboto, arial;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">You can read an ARTSPEAK! "Music Lesson" poem <a href="https://irenelatham.blogspot.com/2015.... Another one called "The Guitarist" <a href="https://irenelatham.blogspot.com/2019.... And a "Cello Love" poem <a href="https://irenelatham.blogspot.com/2018... /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9kQPsLuuJd..." imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1272" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9kQPsLuuJd..." width="317" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Irene as a young pianist :)</td></tr></tbody></table><i style="font-family: roboto, arial;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span></span></span></span><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">I've had a number of music teachers over the years: Judy Bruce, who was the church pianist at our church in Louisiana, and taught me and my sister in her home. For whatever reason, I remember my sister as being her favorite, and that's about all I remember! </span></span></span></span></span></i></div><i style="font-family: roboto, arial;"><div style="font-weight: 400; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="font-weight: 400; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Next up was Vona B. Gay, who was an elderly church organist in Birmingham, and also taught me in her home. I remember how she would endorse and scrawl “for deposit only” as soon as I gave her my mom's check – and then she would tuck it in a little box that sat on top of the upright piano. For a while a cute boy from another school took lessons right after me, and we planned a duet for the coming recital. I can't for the life of me remember the piece we played, but I do remember how nervous I was about sitting and playing next to this boy! Interestingly I can't remember what the boy looked like or what his name was... probably was so self-conscious... or I've hardwiped that awkward memory. I stayed with Vona until the end of high school. </span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="font-weight: 400; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2SAh91wenB..." imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2SAh91wenB..." width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Andrew and Eric<br />at piano recital</td></tr></tbody></table><div style="font-weight: 400; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">And then, after marriage and motherhood... I spent a lot of time taking my KIDS to music lessons. Andrew and Eric started on piano with Rosamund Black, who was – you guessed it! – a church pianist! My boys even played a duet for a recital, which still warms my heart to recall. Then Eric started drum, percussion, xylophone, guitar, voice, insert-name-of-instrument-here lessons. His most consistent teacher was Jay Burnham, percussionist for Alabama Symphony Orchestra. They had a lot of fun together, and I'm so grateful for impact Jay had on Eric's life. He also was hugely impacted by Laura Doss, then-choir director at ASFA. She's the one who convinced Eric that he could sing!</span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="font-weight: 400; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9g86bIcp8z..." imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9g86bIcp8z..." width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Daniel on cello</td></tr></tbody></table><div style="font-weight: 400; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Somewhere in there Daniel took a couple of years of cello lessons from Craig Hultgren, who was then part of ASO. So many times I was just in the other room, writing a poem and halfway listening to the lesson. So I heard a lot about cello long before I ever decided to pick it up and play it myself. </span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="font-weight: 400; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="font-weight: 400; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">When I did finally decide to play an instrument, I started on violin. The instructor I picked (off the internet) was not a good fit for me, and neither was the violin, though it's portability was a big reason I chose it. After just a few months I switched to the moody, more introverted cello. I took my first lesson with Craig Hultgren. It was terrifying! His studio was located at the back of the house, kind of like a porch area. It had a tiled floor and tall ceilings – there was a loft up there as well, and sometimes I'd wait there for another student to finish before my lesson would start. (Craig was so generous with his time! I remember our half-hour lessons often stretching to an hour. He never charged me a penny more – he was just that kind of guy.) </span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="font-weight: 400; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="font-weight: 400; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">The most intimidating thing about Craig's studio was the wood platform stage in the center of the room, at the end of which was a giant mirror. (Seeing oneself play can really help identify solutions to cello problems!) The comforting thing was how Craig's black lab retriever would stretch out and sleep through the whole lesson. :) </span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="font-weight: 400; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="font-weight: 400; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">I've written A LOT about my first lessons with Craig, because they kind of changed my life. And so many of the lessons I've learned through cello have impacted other areas of my life. For a while I was pursuing publication of this work, but have since abandoned it.</span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="font-weight: 400; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="font-weight: 400; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Which brings me to my current teacher Laura Usiskin. I started lessons with her about 4 years ago, when Craig moved away from Alabama. She's currently on maternity leave, and I think a great testament to how much I've learned from her is that I've been teacherless now for 2 ½ months, and I am still managing to work and learn new pieces on my own. I can hear Laura's voice, and I have an arsenal of tools and techniques to help get through the trouble spots. I am quite excited, however, to get her back! Though of course she is doing THE most important work of her life right now with that brand new baby girl. What a sweet time! Her studio is intimidating in a different way. There's a plush carpet (great for cello end-pins) and a gorgeous baby grand piano. Laura sits across from me during the lesson, her eagle eyes and ears catching all the goofs. She's an amazing teacher, and keeps things encouraging and positive. I'm so grateful to have landed in such good hands! </span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="font-weight: 400; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0p9QYN4jfa..." imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0p9QYN4jfa..." width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm the cellist just below and right<br />of the conductor Joe Lee</td></tr></tbody></table><div style="font-weight: 400; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">I've also benefitted from group music lessons – Laura does an adult-student group, and for the past couple of years I've participated in the Adult Strings Weekend in Tuscaloosa. This past spring I participated in an ensemble workshop, and this summer I joined a string orchestra. The music director has a great way of explaining things and working with us. Our concert is coming up in a couple of weeks. I'm excited. :)</span></span></span></span></span></div></i>
I welcome you to join me, if you like! I've divided the prompts by month, and the plan is to respond to 3 (or so) a week. For some of these I may write poems, for others prose. The important thing is to mine my memory. Who knows where this exploration will lead?For links to the prompts I've written on so far this year, please click on The Butterfly Hours tab above.
This month's prompts include: mail, moon, mouse, moving, museum, music, music lesson, name, necklace, neighbor, nightgown.
<!-- @page { margin: 0.79in } P { margin-bottom: 0.08in } </style> </i></div>--> <br /><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><i style="font-family: roboto, arial;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><b>MUSIC LESSON</b></span></span></span></span></i></div><i style="font-family: roboto, arial;"></i><br /><div style="font-weight: 400; margin-bottom: 0in;"><i style="font-family: roboto, arial;"><br /></i></div><i style="font-family: roboto, arial;"></i><div style="font-weight: 400; margin-bottom: 0in;"><i style="font-family: roboto, arial;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">You can read an ARTSPEAK! "Music Lesson" poem <a href="https://irenelatham.blogspot.com/2015.... Another one called "The Guitarist" <a href="https://irenelatham.blogspot.com/2019.... And a "Cello Love" poem <a href="https://irenelatham.blogspot.com/2018... /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9kQPsLuuJd..." imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1272" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9kQPsLuuJd..." width="317" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Irene as a young pianist :)</td></tr></tbody></table><i style="font-family: roboto, arial;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span></span></span></span><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">I've had a number of music teachers over the years: Judy Bruce, who was the church pianist at our church in Louisiana, and taught me and my sister in her home. For whatever reason, I remember my sister as being her favorite, and that's about all I remember! </span></span></span></span></span></i></div><i style="font-family: roboto, arial;"><div style="font-weight: 400; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="font-weight: 400; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Next up was Vona B. Gay, who was an elderly church organist in Birmingham, and also taught me in her home. I remember how she would endorse and scrawl “for deposit only” as soon as I gave her my mom's check – and then she would tuck it in a little box that sat on top of the upright piano. For a while a cute boy from another school took lessons right after me, and we planned a duet for the coming recital. I can't for the life of me remember the piece we played, but I do remember how nervous I was about sitting and playing next to this boy! Interestingly I can't remember what the boy looked like or what his name was... probably was so self-conscious... or I've hardwiped that awkward memory. I stayed with Vona until the end of high school. </span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="font-weight: 400; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2SAh91wenB..." imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2SAh91wenB..." width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Andrew and Eric<br />at piano recital</td></tr></tbody></table><div style="font-weight: 400; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">And then, after marriage and motherhood... I spent a lot of time taking my KIDS to music lessons. Andrew and Eric started on piano with Rosamund Black, who was – you guessed it! – a church pianist! My boys even played a duet for a recital, which still warms my heart to recall. Then Eric started drum, percussion, xylophone, guitar, voice, insert-name-of-instrument-here lessons. His most consistent teacher was Jay Burnham, percussionist for Alabama Symphony Orchestra. They had a lot of fun together, and I'm so grateful for impact Jay had on Eric's life. He also was hugely impacted by Laura Doss, then-choir director at ASFA. She's the one who convinced Eric that he could sing!</span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="font-weight: 400; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9g86bIcp8z..." imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9g86bIcp8z..." width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Daniel on cello</td></tr></tbody></table><div style="font-weight: 400; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Somewhere in there Daniel took a couple of years of cello lessons from Craig Hultgren, who was then part of ASO. So many times I was just in the other room, writing a poem and halfway listening to the lesson. So I heard a lot about cello long before I ever decided to pick it up and play it myself. </span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="font-weight: 400; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="font-weight: 400; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">When I did finally decide to play an instrument, I started on violin. The instructor I picked (off the internet) was not a good fit for me, and neither was the violin, though it's portability was a big reason I chose it. After just a few months I switched to the moody, more introverted cello. I took my first lesson with Craig Hultgren. It was terrifying! His studio was located at the back of the house, kind of like a porch area. It had a tiled floor and tall ceilings – there was a loft up there as well, and sometimes I'd wait there for another student to finish before my lesson would start. (Craig was so generous with his time! I remember our half-hour lessons often stretching to an hour. He never charged me a penny more – he was just that kind of guy.) </span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="font-weight: 400; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="font-weight: 400; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">The most intimidating thing about Craig's studio was the wood platform stage in the center of the room, at the end of which was a giant mirror. (Seeing oneself play can really help identify solutions to cello problems!) The comforting thing was how Craig's black lab retriever would stretch out and sleep through the whole lesson. :) </span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="font-weight: 400; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="font-weight: 400; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">I've written A LOT about my first lessons with Craig, because they kind of changed my life. And so many of the lessons I've learned through cello have impacted other areas of my life. For a while I was pursuing publication of this work, but have since abandoned it.</span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="font-weight: 400; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="font-weight: 400; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Which brings me to my current teacher Laura Usiskin. I started lessons with her about 4 years ago, when Craig moved away from Alabama. She's currently on maternity leave, and I think a great testament to how much I've learned from her is that I've been teacherless now for 2 ½ months, and I am still managing to work and learn new pieces on my own. I can hear Laura's voice, and I have an arsenal of tools and techniques to help get through the trouble spots. I am quite excited, however, to get her back! Though of course she is doing THE most important work of her life right now with that brand new baby girl. What a sweet time! Her studio is intimidating in a different way. There's a plush carpet (great for cello end-pins) and a gorgeous baby grand piano. Laura sits across from me during the lesson, her eagle eyes and ears catching all the goofs. She's an amazing teacher, and keeps things encouraging and positive. I'm so grateful to have landed in such good hands! </span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="font-weight: 400; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0p9QYN4jfa..." imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0p9QYN4jfa..." width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm the cellist just below and right<br />of the conductor Joe Lee</td></tr></tbody></table><div style="font-weight: 400; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">I've also benefitted from group music lessons – Laura does an adult-student group, and for the past couple of years I've participated in the Adult Strings Weekend in Tuscaloosa. This past spring I participated in an ensemble workshop, and this summer I joined a string orchestra. The music director has a great way of explaining things and working with us. Our concert is coming up in a couple of weeks. I'm excited. :)</span></span></span></span></span></div></i>
July 12, 2019
Talking SOCCERVERSE with Liz Steinglass
Hello and Happy Poetry Friday! Be sure to visit Jone at Deo Writer for Roundup.So I kind of live a quiet life, and I deliberately do not invite a lot of news into it. I did, however, learn about the US Women Team's amazing 4th FIFA World Cup victory. Yay! And it gives me the perfect segue into Elizabeth Steinglass' new (first!) book: SOCCERVERSE: Poems about Soccer, with illustrations by Edson Ikê, brought to us by the good folks at Wordsong, an imprint of Boyds Mill and Kane.
Lucky me, I met Liz (and even presented with her about how poet's use metaphor) at WWU's Poetry Camp back in 2016. She's every bit as brilliant and gentle in person as is her poetry on the page. And this book has been a long time in process... so what joy to see it finally on the shelves!Here's Liz to tell us a little more about her experience.
The difficult: My challenge as a writer is to slow down and take my time. I always feel a strong internal rush to finish. I think it’s because I’m in a hurry to get past the uncomfortable uncertainty. I have to remind myself to take my time every step of the way--finding a topic, finding an approach, finding a form. I have to remind myself to stay open as long as possible to different options, to different creative possibilities. I also have to remind myself to take my time revising. Leaving my work in a drawer is an important part of the process. It enables me to see it with fresh eyes when I come back to it. I also have to remind myself that it’s okay if I don’t write, and I go for a walk or go to a museum or read a book instead because all of these are also part of the writing process. Instead of rushing to the finish line, I need to give the process a good long chance to unfold.
The delicious and the unexpected: I’m combining these because for me the unexpected IS the delicious. I absolutely love it when the process takes over, and I find myself writing something that surprises me. This happens when I let go of my plan, allow myself to get swept up in the writing, and give my brain room to make whatever strange connections it happens to make. What if a soccer field was a man with a beard? What if the game was in the hands of a giant who moved the ball by tipping the field back and forth?
Anything else: Another delicious and unexpected aspect of the process was seeing Edson Ikê’s gorgeous illustrations for the first time. I absolutely adore the bold images and colors and the creativity. The illustrations give each poem additional layers of interest and feeling. I love the older man watching the kids play on his thick green beard, and the giantess holding the game in her hand.
She has a vine growing out of her sleeve which to me suggests that soccer is just as natural a part of life on earth as the plants. I think my favorite illustration is the red hand with the snorting bull on the page with the poem “Apology.” Yep, that feels like the hot, angry move that will earn you a red card. But what I love most of all is that the people in the book reflect the beautiful diversity of our world.Congratulations, Liz, on a lovely debut!!!
