Prejudice, Faith, Fathers & Daughters and GO SET A WATCHMAN by Harper Lee

Newspaper clipping my father sent me
just after the book was released.

I had no plans to read GO SET A WATCHMAN -- partly because I can be really ornery when it comes to "what everyone else is doing," and partly because I am not enamored of TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRD as many folks are. (Somehow typing that makes me feel downright un-Alabamian, and maybe even un-American. Alas.)

But all that was before I got this middle of the night email from my father, which he so generously gave me permission to share here:

September 5, 2015

Dearest Irene--
I just finished Harper Lee's new/old book and I'm so excited and thrilled by it that even though it's the wee hours of the morning I had to tell you.

I loved To Kill A Mockingbird. I love Go Set A Watchman. I may be in a minority but Watchman is fantastic! And the two of them together provide a wonderful complete story.

It's true that Atticus takes a slight fall from lofty heights but he becomes more human in the process and, in my view, remains a hero though less than a God. He does right as he sees it and becomes a greater man and father in the process.

And I have to tell you that touched me in a very special way.  Atticus raised Scout to be a fully functional, rational, thinking person

Sent from my iPhone

~Sorry, I got so carried away, I hit the wrong button~

...Capable of making her own way in the world based on values she was taught. The part that was incomplete was the examination of those values in the context of a very harsh often unfair world not of absolutes but of grays, not of blacks and whites (to make a bad pun) but of shades of gray. She could only come complete when she had to begin to see this world through her own eyes and begin to deal with it in a more engaged and realistic way.

I think I'm raving about this book for several reasons: (1) It completes the story in what I feel a very satisfying way; (2) it is insightful about segregation, not to justify it but pointing to the underlying cultural situation that caused the south to pull away from the union and how the south's defeat and experience with reconstruction encouraged segregation...and it concluded--rightly in my mind--both that some changes must be made because they're not only right but seriously overdue and that complex situations ought to be approached in multiple ways to permit and abet positive results; a and most important to me on a personal level, (3) it reminds me of what I was in my own bumbling way trying to do in raising you and Lynn.  I felt it essential that you be independent  persons equipped to make your own way in the world. I wanted you to have the values and abilities not only to be good people but to make world a better place and to be strong enough to be able to choose your own path and to be secure and successful whatever path you chose. I'm so very proud of you--a man of any character at all was to see his child grow to be strong and wise and successful. I was given the great gift of freedom to find my own way while always being loved--I felt that this should be passed along to you and that was the greatest legacy I could you. I did it the best way I knew how and I am so very proud of you--you are such a blessing to me!

So that's my take on the book. I hope they'll make a play out of it and produce it in Monroeville! If they do, getting you there see it is in my Bucket List!!!

I love you!

Papa

................................

So it is through that lens that I reserved at the library GO SET A WATCHMAN. (Some context on how "big" this book is here in Alabama: at the time of my online reserve, our library system had 109 copies, and I was 23 on the wait-list. It only took a few days for the email to arrive saying the book was ready for me to pick up.) 

And you know what? I liked Jean Louise. I liked her spunk, her impatience, her fearlessness about her convictions. It's hard to grow up, and that's really what she does in this book -- little Scout becomes full-fledged Jean Louise. There are some disappointments along the way -- necessary ones, as my father points out. And ultimately the book speaks to me about the father-daughter relationship I've known, which, can certainly be rocky, but is also steadfast. At least that has been my experience! I'm so grateful to have had a father who taught me to question things, even though there were time when he made me so mad by "picking" at me. I know now it was part of my training -- he wanted me to be able to argue, to defend my position, to think, to empathize with others, to GROW as a human, become myself, whomever that may be. What a gift! And Atticus gives that to Scout in this book.

TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRD it is not. There's hardly a plot, way too much conversation, not a lot happens at all. And the racism! Hard to read, acknowledge, accept. Yet there's some magic there, a bit of the south as I've known it (nearly all in the flashbacks to Scout's younger MOCKINGBIRD years), and some truths about life that I find powerful, as my father did.

My favorite quote is this one: 

"Prejudice, a dirty word, and faith,

 a clean one, have something in common: 

they both begin where reason ends."

Who but Harper Lee would put prejudice and faith in the same sentence?

My father and I actually came thisclose to meeting Harper Lee when we traveled together to Monroeville a few years back for Alabama Writers Symposium, where I was speaking about LEAVING GEE'S BEND, and Fannie Flagg was being honored with the Harper Lee Award, and lo and behold, Harper Lee attended the luncheon! While we were there we also saw the play "To Kill a Mockingbird," the first half of which is held outside on the courthouse lawn, and the second half of which attendees pile into the courtroom to hear the proceedings. It's wonderful, and that's what my father is speaking of in that last bit of his note.

The lesson for me here -- and isn't it appropriate that it should be my father (who reads a book a day) teaching it? -- is to be openminded about books, to give them a chance, allow them into my heart, however imperfect (or popular!) they may be. Reading is about emotion, and the best books (to me) are the ones that show me something about me and my life that I recognize, but hadn't been able to say myself. 

This book does that, and for that I am grateful. Thanks, Papa, for everything. I love you!

Poetry Potpourri for Poetry Friday

Hello, and Happy Poetry Friday! Please share the ditty love and visit Michelle at Today's Little Ditty for Roundup.

I have not been at my best this week -- O change-of-season cold! Plus my father has been in the hospital -- he's doing much better at the moment, but it's been a stressful few days.. and might explain the this-n-that nature of this post!

Good news: I'm thrilled to be serving for the third time as a CYBILS judge for Poetry! Congratulations to all the other judges -- I look forward to talking poetry with all of you. We certainly have our work cut out for us this year, what with verse novels being thrown in with the other poetry books. I'm excited to read!

Earlier this week (before I lost my voice), I recorded a poem I loved called "A Little Girl's Poem" by Gwendolyn Brooks.

It begins "Life is for me and is shining!" Read the full poem here -- and here's the audio.   

As for my reading life, I'm nearly done with GO SET A WATCHMAN. I wasn't going to read it, but then my father wrote me a middle-of-the-night email about his reaction to it, and I simply HAD to read it. I rather like 26 year old Scout, I gotta say. More on this soon!

During my drive-time, I've been listening to ECHO by Pam Munoz Ryan. I'm into the second story (set in Depression-era Pennsylvania), and I am really REALLY curious as to how all these threads are going to be woven together... loving the music! Thanks again, Ramona, for sending me to the audio version of this book.

Finally, I've been thinking about this article I read in Mental Floss magazine about Einstein's "genius tricks for clearing your mind" -- and, it should follow, enhancing your creativity:

1. Bust out the violin
2. Set sail  (not that he was the best sailor in the world... and he couldn't swim!)
3. Dress down (did you know Einstein hated socks?)
4. Keep up correspondence

And you know, those are really great tricks! My comps are as follows:

1. Bust out the cello
2. Take a walk
3. Wear pajamas all day (and flipflops when necessary)
4. Keep up correspondence (hey, email and texts count!)

What about you?? How do you clear the mind/enhance your creativity? Wishing you a wonderful last-weekend-of-summer!

My Artist's Prayer, A Movie You Need to See, & Two Poems

Hello and Happy Poetry Friday! Please visit red Robyn at Life on the Deckle Edge for Roundup.

I'm in a bit of an introspective mood today -- okay, let's face it: I'm pretty must always in an introspective mood! Specifically I've been thinking about how nourished I have felt this year in my writing life. A big part of that, I think, has to do with how I started the year off by participating in an Artist's Way group. For 12 weeks we journeyed through THE ARTIST'S WAY by Julia Cameron, and it was a transformative experience for me.

And now I am going through one of her other books, WALKING IN THIS WORLD. Walking has always been a wonderful practice for me, and now I am using that time to meditate on my creative life. I'm two weeks in, and it's been exactly what I needed and then some! (Speaking of walking in this world, if you haven't streamed the movie  TRACKS on Netflix, please do! True story of one woman's 1100 mile walk across the Australian Outback with 4 camels and a dog. Did you know wild camels roam the Outback? I didn't!)


So, today, I'd like to share with you the artist's prayer I came up with when, during the group sessions, we were asked to come up with one. As I read it now, I realize it's an affirmation for any human, whatever path.  And then I've got some links to some current favorite poems I've recorded recently on Soundcloud. Enjoy!

Eight 2015 Middle Grade Novels I've Read Lately

LOST IN THE SUN by Lisa Graff

Narrator Trent, who first appeared in UMBRELLA SUMMER, is kind of unlikeable at first, but he finds a friend in mysterious Fallon Little. This book got starred reviews all over the place, and like all of Lisa's books, it's worth reading. For some reason it's hard for me to talk about. I'm still thinking about it.

A HANDFUL OF STARS by Cynthia Lord

Another friendship novel! Set in Maine, it chronicles the friendship between Lily and Salma, who is the daughter of migrant blueberry pickers. Also, there's a dog who needs an operation, and a Blueberry Queen pageant. As someone who has written a whole novel about a migrant Florida citrus girl, this one was fascinating and enjoyable.

THE GREAT GOOD SUMMER by Liz Garton Scanlon

I was charmed by Ivy Green's quest to find her mother after she (her mother) ran off with Hallelujah Dave (love that name!) to the Great Good Bible Church. And guess what: it's also a friendship novel. :)

GOODBYE STRANGER by Rebecca Stead

Another one with a zillion starred reviews... and it's a friendship story! This one is told in multiple voices, one of them mysterious who uses 2nd person, which was a strange experience for me. Everything else I loved -- especially Bridge's cat ears. :)

OLD WOLF by Avi, illustrations by Brian Floca

Two stories in this one: old wolf Nashoba's story, and young Casey, who loves video games and thinks he'll enjoy real-life hunting as well. The wolf-raven parts moved me. Beautiful.

CIRCUS MIRANDUS by Cassie Beasley

Micah Tuttle believes in magic because it's what his grandfather has been telling him since forever... and now that his grandfather is sick, and his awful great-aunt has invaded their lives, Micah NEEDS magic. HE also needs a friend. This one reads like a classic, and yes, it's also a friendship novel!

THE WAR THAT SAVED MY LIFE by Kimberley Brubaker Bradley

This book. THIS BOOK. This is exactly the kind of book I love and love and keep on loving. (The other book so far this year that made me feel that way? RED BUTTERFLY by A.L. Sonnischen.) Girl with a club foot has been shut in her ENTIRE life until she follows her brother Jamie when he is evacuated out of London to Kent during WWII. The way the relationship develops between Ada and caregiver Susan... how Ada finds her power... beautiful! (I will now read every other book the author has written.)

GEORGE by Alex Gino

Finally a book for kids about a transgender kid! It's kind of a coming-out story -- a coming-out that is made so much easier thanks to a good friend. The world needs more Kellys!

(Like this one? Read for-adults GOLDEN BOY by Abigail Tarttelin about an intersex kid named Max.)

What I'm Listening To This Labor Day

...son Eric's latest super-fun single BEACH TRIP 

that he just released TODAY:

Is he a poet, or is he a poet?!

SO PROUD.

Thanks for listening!

A Visit with Janet Wong & A SUITCASE OF SEAWEED

Hello and Happy Poetry Friday! Be sure to visit lovely Linda at TeacherDance for Roundup.

I'm delighted today to welcome poet and publisher Janet Wong to share some poems from her book A SUITCASE OF SEAWEED: And Other Poems (McElderry Books, 1996). Buy the paperback edition here.

I happened upon this book at a book store on St. Simon Island (GA) earlier this year, and was enchanted by the poems that reflect Janet's Korean, Chinese, and American heritage. You'll find Janet's comments below in blue.  I particularly love Janet's last comment about identity - who we are vs. who we want to be. See below! Thank you, Janet, for sharing with us today!

JW: My mother was paralyzed from polio as a child. Her cure: acupuncture, hundreds of needles daily for a year. This was in rural Korea in the late 1940s. If you were to visit an acupuncturist in the U.S. today, you’d probably receive only a dozen needles in a session. But the way she described it to me as a child, poking her finger all over me, I imagined them turning her into a porcupine.

Acupuncture

by Janet Wong

"Chook! Chook! Chook!"

Mother says each time

she digs her finger

into my skin

to show me where

the doctor stuck

hundred of needles

in her swollen, still,

fever-filled body,

when she was twelve.

I have a picture 

in my mind

of how she looked -- Chook!

My mother, once

a porcupine.

JW: I got my first acupuncture treatment after a severe ankle sprain, when I was a teen. Acupuncture, as it’s practiced here, is not supposed to hurt, but my mother believes that it’s only working if it hurts. My mother kept telling the acupuncturist, “More needles! More deeper!” I ended up with double the amount he originally had inserted. The pain was quite intense when he twisted the needles halfway through the session. I did my best for the next few days to hide my hobbling from my mom so that I wouldn’t need to return. 

---------------------------------------

Sisters

by Janet Wong

She calls me tofu

because I am so soft,

easily falling apart.

I wish I were tough

and full of fire, like ginger--

like her.

JW: This is just one example of why I am “tofu” and my mother is “ginger." Tofu is not just soft; it weeps. (Put a piece on a plate in the refrigerator and the next day you’ll see what I mean.) I wrote a poem about this difference between my mother and me, but chose to call it “Sisters” since I don’t have a sister and could then tell my mother that it was totally made up. 

------------------------------------------

JW: About identity: Race matters, of course, but I worry when we overemphasize race and ignore other things that make up who we are; I’ve written many poems about the complex issue of identity. Now, at the beginning of the school year, the question for many kids (especially teens) isn’t “Who am I?” but rather “Who do I want to be?"

Which?

by Janet Wong

Two dresses hang

side by side

on the sale rack,

the tag of one so worn

it seems the price

was not believed,

but looked at, at least twice,

by many who might buy.

It is real: this

black velvet gown

overgrown with

lush, bright flowers

is cheap, dirt cheap,

even cheaper than

the simple chambray dress

some careless hand

has pressed up against its back,

the white plastic hanger

crushing one velvet flower.

Which one is you?

Wear this plain blue frock

twice a week and feel safe,

no one will talk;

but wear the other,

with its strange power

that makes you think

that boys will swoon,

and a second time

a season 

is too soon.

#EveryBrilliantThing August Roundup

This year I am keeping a virtual gratitude list, inspired by the play Every Brilliant Thing. Here's my post about it. 

And here is my list for AUGUST! (For September, my goal is to resume posting these daily on Twitter! We'll see. :)

Naps.

Red suitcase.

Exercise ball.

Roman shades.

The Bird Girl.

Sweet and sour sauce.

Early morning walk on the trail.

Digital scrapbooking.

Fabric in the mail.

Book signed by author.

Reuseable grocery bags.

Sea bands.

Tinted moisturizer.

Catching fish.

Walking on the beach.

Easy as Sunday morning.

First day of school.

Antibiotics.

Used book stores.

Lunch on the back porch.

Supper on the back porch.

Double-yolk egg.

Finishing a quilt.

Baby wipes.

High school football.

Fresh cantaloupe.

Cello teacher saying I'm becoming a “sturdy” player.

Rick Springfield singing Katy Perry's ROAR.

Dancing in moonlight.

Empty highway.

Octopuses.

"There Is More Than One Way to Starve." - Sherman Alexie

Earlier this year I visited Dachau Memorial Site, just outside Munich, Germany.

Earlier this month we watched again (with son) Schindler's List.

Earlier this week I read to my son "An Indian Education" by Sherman Alexie, which is a brilliant piece and contains the sentence in the subject line.)

Yesterday I finished listening to THE OLD BROWN SUITCASE by Lilian Boraks-Nemetz, narrated by Sofia Newman (thank you, SYNC free summer audiobooks program!)

Which brings me to today, Poetry Friday. Please visit globe-trotting Sylvia at Poetry for Children for Roundup!

My offering is Part 6 of Alexie's 7-part poem "Inside Dachau" It's powerful in its straightforward simplicity, and it's helping me to find my own words as I attempt to write about how I, a white 21st century American woman, relate to to these (and other) holocausts.

6. after we are free

If I were Jewish, how would I mourn the dead?

I am Spokane. I wake.

If I were Jewish, how would I remember the past?

I am Spokane. I page through the history books.

If I were Jewish, how would I find the joy to dance?

I am Spokane. I drop a quarter into the jukebox.

If I were Jewish, how would I find time to sing?

I am Spokane. I sit at the drum with all of my cousins.

If I were Jewish, how would I fall in love?

I am Spokane. I listen to an Indian woman whispering.

If I were Jewish, how would I feel about ash?

I am Spokane. I offer tobacco to all of my guests.

If I were Jewish, how would I tell the stories? 

I am Spokane. I rest my hands on the podium.

If I were Jewish, how would I sleep at night?

I am Spokane. I keep the television playing until dawn.

If I were Jewish, how would I find my home?

I am Spokane. I step into the river and close my eyes.

Over in the Wetlands by Caroline Starr Rose

The storm gets dressed in beautiful language and pictures in OVER IN THE WETLANDS: A Hurricane-on-the-Bayou Story by Caroline Starr Rose, illus. by Rob Dunlavey.

Welcome to the bayou, where silky mist weaves, clouds are cotton tufts, and Caroline employs powerful verbs and images to move the story forward:

crab babies scuttle
wind stirs moss like silent bells
cypress are salted with an egret flock
dark clouds snarl
egrets cower between cattails (as seen on the cover!)
marsh grass clutches
bulrushes dance
black bear shambles, whuffles

and

Mama gator is a swamp chauffeur.

Beautiful! I'm gifting this one to my turning-10-today nephew who was born in middle Tennessee while Katrina was pounding New Orleans. Happy Birthday, Levi!

MadiLynn, Eric, LEVI, MicaJon

I Will Have Poetry in my Life.

All summer we've been watching movies with our 15 year old -- classics, Oscar winners, personal favorites. It's been a cultural experience! And it's been hugely inspiring. And gratifying. I mean, what joy to share with someone you love a piece of art you love! And how wonderful to revisit, after so long?

One that had me smiling pretty much the entire movie was SHAKESPEARE IN LOVE. 

I was inspired to create this graphic from one of my favorite movie quotes ever. Enjoy!

By the way, Son's favorite movie of the summer so far: The Shawshank Redemption.

Sharing my Summer Poem Swap Lovelies!

Hello and Happy Poetry Friday! Be sure to visit Catherine at Reading to the Core for Roundup. 

I'm delighted to share with you a bounty of summer loveliness from my Summer Poem Swap poet-sisters Heidi Mordhorst, Margaret Simon, Donna Smith, Jone McCulloch and Joy Acey! THANK YOU, ALL. And to The Poem Swap Queen herself, Tabatha Yeatts, mwah!

from Donna, a poem-puzzle inspired by our Baby Tiger Encounter with Boris!

from Heidi, a jar to keep my #EveryBrilliantThings! So thoughtful!

from Jone, a short poem (of course), which I love... and YES, we're allowed to revise!
Love these summer-kiss-ery beginnings. :)

from Margaret, an inspiring "One child" poem (I will write my own soon, and put it next to Margaret's in this sweet little notebook she gave me!)

from Joy, poetry & paint to celebrate the desert experience of summer! (Little did she know one of my works in progress is set in Death Valley National Park during July!)

And now, because I can't help myself, a little poem that uses a picture I took earlier this year at Jekyll Island and borrows a line from each of their poems! Thank you, ladies!

Poems for Old Poets

I'm excited to share with you today two books by Alabama poets who have been writing for decades! And neither is afraid to write about old age or old poets or what life is like in their current chapter.

Isn't that marvelous? I hope to be just like them someday.

So, first, from Betty Spence, a lovely Mobile poet I've been lucky enough to meet a few time and publish in Birmingham Arts Journal: TRACES OF PRESENCE by Betty Spence . Here's one of my favorite poems in the book:


The Richer for It
- after May Sarton, "Coming into Eighty"

I think I shall live to be eighty-something --
I've seen how loath old poets are to leave.
stick-figures in wind-puffed sleeves
staring down an ocean of words unsaid
languishing for want of naming things
to others and themselves.

I've seen them piping like shore birds
on finding half-buried in the sand
a bottle thrown into a river at flood stage,
a bottle, for all I know, bearing the words:
Write the vision, make it plain.

For all the times time has hurried me
I think I shall live to worry time along.
Already half-past the wakefulness of noon,
I'd like to live to sleep-in, sleep off poems,
live until lines in my face story forth,

love long enough to give away whatever
to whomever I please and be the richer for it.
I'll say goodbye but once -- and that at the gate.
You can, if you like, watch me out of sight.

-- Betty Spence
............

Next, the latest book offering from our current Alabama Poet Laureate, Andrew Glaze, who is still writing in his 90s! (And to think, I wrote a poem for him entitled "I Want to be Eighty-Five," and here he is a decade later, still naming things and chasing down words.)

His new book, OVERHEARD IN A DRUGSTORE by Andrew Glaze includes a poem he wrote for me called "Climbing the Sky," and it makes me feel so tender and grateful that I can hardly talk about it (though I did try at the release event this past Sunday -- see pic below of me and Andy!). But there's another poem on the theme that I'd like to share with you today.


Old Poet

Clouds don't come at him any more
seething inside with green fire nor
does the skin of lovers often proclaim,
like a trumpet, fearful surprises.
And where are the river-roads that once he attended,
the quarrels that whistled around him like bullets,
the streaming tracks that swept him along come midnight
with the gift of a single mountain lantern?

Wherefrom are the words that used to hurt,
that hurt now twice as often, --
and were are the friends he loved enough to wish
he might give them a bit of his time on earth.
Also, old man, why can't left encounter right
anymore for a battle?
And where are the rattling snare drums of daylight?

Why do there not canter up these days
poems that stamp the hoof,
and offer the bridle, so he must clamber top-side
the saddle, and set himself to thunder off,
not caring to guess where the gallop goes,
or by what fork of the road,
or by what fork of the road.

-  Andrew Glaze
------------------------------
and finally, May Sarton's title poem from her book COMING INTO EIGHTY:

Coming into Eighty

Coming into eighty
I slow my ship down
For a safe landing.
It has been battered,
One sail torn, the rudder
Sometimes wobbly.
We are hardly a glorious sight.
It has been a long voyage
Through time, travail and triumph,
Eighty years
Of learning what to be
And how to become it.

One day the ship will decompose
And then what will become of me?
Only a breath
Gone into nothingness
Alone
Or a spirit of air and fire
Set free?
Who knows?

Greet us at landfall
The old ship and me,
But we can’t stay anchored.
Soon we must set sail
On the last mysterious voyage
Everybody takes
Toward death.
Without my ship there,
Wish me well.

- May Sarton

Andrew Glaze & me at book launch Aug. 16, 2015

Gone Fishin' & Other Beach-y Magic

Last week we took a quick trip to Orange Beach, Alabama, to hang out with the kids, enjoy some seafood and do a little fishing!

a view from the back of the boat GETAWAY as 

we cruised out from Orange Beach early-early 

onto the Gulf of Mexico for five hours of fishing. 

Sportsman Marina at dusk

Paul took this one of us at the pier: Eric, me, Daniel, Amalee
(who was the Queen of Fishing! She caught the first fish, the only one of us t
o catch 2 on 1 pole, and  she hauled in the biggest fish!)

Paul and me at the seashore

Boys are never too old to dig a big beach hole (and play in it!) 

Fish! Mostly white snapper and one lonely Spanish mackerel (we also caught red snapper and triggerfish but had to throw those back, since the season is over).
Deckhand Thad did a great job for us!

Sneak Peek of some lyrics from "Beach Trip" (it's a love song!):

"Anyway I'm still looking out into the night
Listening to music thinkin bout you while I write rhymes
I can see a bunch of people on the beach with flashlights
Looking for treasure, but I found mine"

On Poetry & Dancing

Hello and Happy Poetry Friday! Be sure to visit Tabatha at a favorite blog of mine The Opposite of Indifference for Roundup.

Audrey Hepburn

This past week I read a fascinating book called DANCERS ON DANCING, edited by Cynthia Lyle. It's an out-of-print book (1979), and it includes exclusive interviews with ballet dancers, modern dancers, and choreographers. I learned so much about the dancing world! Dancer go into the profession like any other athlete - knowing their dancing time is limited. And basically to be a dancer is to be someone who experiences pain -- and dances through the pain. I'm interested to find out where these dancers are now, 30+ years later.

Throughout the book I was reminded again of how all art is essentially the same. Today I'd like to share quotes from the book the resonated with the writer in me... and then I'll share a dance poem!

When things aren't going so well...
"The only solution is to find a way to get back into my dancing, just to do that as well as I can and enjoy it. Then I'm all right again. Then I can keep going. There are always friends saying, "You know, you really should be doing this role. Why aren't you doing it?" And sometimes I start to think, "Yes, I should be doing it." But I'm not doing it. And I can get so confused by what I want and don't have that I forget what I do have. That isn't everything, but it's good enough."
 - Martine van Hamel

On moodiness...
"Dancers are very neurotic people. We are either depressed or very happy. We are always at either one extreme or the other. Frustration before I get onstage often brings out frustration onstage. We like to dance; when we don't dance, we get depressed. If we do a bad performance, it's hard to forget. We are always striving for perfection, which we know we will never attain. A dancer is a creature of moods. The happiest times for me are when I'm performing."
- Ted Kivitt

On strengths and weaknesses...
"I have a very soft and limber back, which makes it very difficult to pirouette. I always have trouble with pirouettes; it's my biggest hangup. But since I passed thirty, I look at it in a different way. I don't dream about doing ten pirouettes because I'm not capable of doing that many. I have learned to accept both my strongest and my weakest points. My strongest point is that I have a very good sustained elevation for jumping, which for a male dancer is very important. I try not to show off. Instead of trying to do eight pirouettes I do three, but I try to make them very clean and very definite. I work on my weak points, but I don't take chances and I don't get mad. I know my limitations and I try to work with them, not to resent them."
- Ivan Nagy

On criticism....
"One thing an artist can't do is judge himself or herself objectively. It's impossible -- mirrors and pictures don't do it for you. Somebody else has to judge you. And then it has to be a great eye to do you justice, to do the most for you by criticizing you, by keeping you in your place and yet challenging you too.... You struggle to improve them every day and to assert what is already good. It's a process that never ends. I personally think it's the only way of existing."
- Violette Verdy

found at www.quotegarden.com

On competitiveness....
"I think it is healthy to be competitive with yourself, but not against each other."
- Arthur Mitchell

On finding your purpose...
"There's a period that dancers have to go through, I think, in which you just have to get out on stage and try anything, because the way you should move hasn't crystallized yet."
-Judith Jamison

On advice for young dancers...
"I go into colleges and tell them all to forget it, because I think that a little discouragement is the most I can do to help them. They should know what they're getting into. And I've always believed that unless somebody really has a very big need to dance and feels absolutely driven and has some kind of a real dream about it, he shouldn't take up people's time.... So I think it's best to tell them the worst."
- Paul Taylor

On the role of the critic...
"The critics should build audiences; instead they destroy them by writing disparaging reviews with a narrow outlook. It's very serious, when your economics depends on your audiences."
-Murray Louis

On fame...
"For me, I've done the work. That's enough. What I feel is enough. I don't like getting the applause and adulation."
-Anna Sokolow

also by Rumi! You can buy this one at Etsy's Raw Art Letterpress.

On why we love what we love...
"You hear a piece of music, and you've never heard anything quite like it. But you're drawn to it. Why? Because you sense the truth in it. The same in painting. Art presents the truth in many ways."
-Anna Sokolow

On where art comes from...
"All these dances come from my stomach - that is the creation point. I don't understand why dancers call one piece "Flower," the next dance "Storm," the next dance "Untitled." If there is only one creation point, and from that all dances come, why they have to make up other titles with their minds? That's very stupid to me. That is like decorating."
-Kei Takei

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Now for my single, solitary dance poem! It's from a series of historical women poems I wrote and is included in my book of poems THE COLOR OF LOST ROOMS.

Audrey Hepburn at the Dance Studio

Born for arabesque and cabriole,
I could not pirouette my way

through the occupation, could only
perform in my mind pique turns

and side leaps while I scratched
dirt with fingers, unearthed

tulip bulbs and ground them
to flour. Between loaves

my bones began to wither
and crack, hunger dissolving

the fine arches of my feet,
the graceful curve of calf.

When the war ended I stumbled
into a different dream.

And for all it’s given me
and all I’ve become, I’d trade it

for this mirror, this bar,
one night on some great stage,

my body fluid as sunlight
breaking over a field of wheat.

- Irene Latham

A "Wild Horses" Adventure for my WILD Year

wall of Marguerite Henry books
at Chincoteague Museum

Back in January I selected "wild" as my One Little Word for 2015. This whole year so far I've really been focused on "returning to a natural state." This has meant a lot of time alone (thinking, pondering, allowing myself to be the quiet, introverted soul I am) as well as time adventuring and trying new things.

This past week I was able to both adventure and return to my natural state when I visited with two of my writing friends the islands of Chincoteague and Assateague for the annual Pony Penning Week. This is something I've wanted to do ever since wee horse-loving me read the books by Maguerite Henry. How many times over the years have I dreamed myself on those islands?! And this year, I DID IT.

Not only were we able to get up close and personal with the ponies in their pens (awaiting the annual Pony Swim), we also got to see one lone stallion Rainbow Warrior who by chance or firemen's choice (not sure which), was left on the island.

Here are some friends feasting on hay. One thing I learned was that the ponies' bloated look is due to the vast amount of salt in their diets. They drink twice as much water as regular ponies to help compensate!

...a view through the slats of one of the foals to be auctioned off. (No, I didn't buy one! But that was a dream of mine when I was younger!)

If I had bought one, it might have been this one: (by the way, see that "12" brand on her mother's flank? That indicates the year she first came in for roundup.)

And here is Rainbow Warrior, in all his solitary glory... story is (according to Captain Dan, who took us on an amazing sunset cruise around the island), he lost his mares to a younger male, and since then, he's been on his own. He looked pretty content with no worries about other stallions while all the others were penned up. :) Thanks, Sheila, for the great pic!

For a story about what's happening in the next picture, visit Pat Weaver's blog!

One of the treasures I brought home from the trip was this gorgeous photography book IN THE HERD by Jayne M. Silberman (who signed a book for me!). What a gorgeous keepsake. And now I shall write some pony poems....

And finally, here we all are in front of the paddocks. Great trip, ladies. Thank you!