tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-128291032010-01-06T18:02:42.141-05:00Writing at the margins. Writing in the margins. A place to react, to stop and share a few words, to take stock, to think aloud.marginaliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08863198545271471429noreply@blogger.comBlogger179125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12829103.post-43506894856578845312009-12-31T17:23:00.008-05:002009-12-31T23:31:22.123-05:00

Before 2010 arrives I'm cleaning up my computer. Over the year I placed 3000 photos on my hard drive. This penchant for taking an excessive number of photos coincided with my purchase of a small digital camera—-a camera small enough to carry into museums, a camera that hung around my neck, but didn't cause a neck strain, a camera that encouraged me to take hundreds of photos of paintings. *****

marginaliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08863198545271471429noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12829103.post-20882535892418149022009-12-14T18:27:00.005-05:002009-12-14T18:37:28.390-05:00

Embedded in my DNA, etched in my bones, moves a panorama of my family's liberal background—unions, socialism, revolutionary fervor, marches. I eschewed the narrow confines of the right. So why am I tiring of rhetoric that soars and belies reality? Maybe I'm naive. Maybe I refuse to accept the political realities--the buying of votes with favors. Do the ends justify the means? An old philosophical

marginaliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08863198545271471429noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12829103.post-61327398310356632012009-12-05T21:20:00.010-05:002009-12-07T08:50:13.264-05:00

IIt's in my DNA. It's a part of my soul. I am addicted to coffee shops and cafes. It started when my mother, attempting to lure me into shopping for school clothes, suggested stopping for coffee and a sandwich. "And", she said, "You can read your book while eating." We often split a bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwich. When she got older she frequented a coffee shop with her friends, often for

marginaliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08863198545271471429noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12829103.post-36116002600273030712009-11-19T20:24:00.005-05:002009-11-19T20:45:37.858-05:00

The day after I read these lines in the Wall Street Journal “The average American family of four uses roughly 400 gallons of water per day at home,” I read these words: 1 billion people do not have clean drinking water. I grew up in a three-room apartment in the Bronx. We had one bathroom for four people and an unspoken order for morning showers. No one dallied in the bathroom— get in and get out

marginaliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08863198545271471429noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12829103.post-1585469364189706312009-11-11T23:09:00.007-05:002009-11-11T23:37:33.907-05:00

It's a sink hole? Sometimes called a swallow hole.It made me curious. I had read of a sink hole swallowing a car in Cambridge, Massachusetts. How close can you go before the sands suck on your heels? Is this a metaphor for life?Poverty is a sink hole. Sometimes people can't climb out and they choke on the debts, the futility.War is a sink hole—swallowing combatants— sending those who live home

marginaliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08863198545271471429noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12829103.post-8529466530384896062009-11-05T21:26:00.003-05:002009-11-05T21:52:20.784-05:00

"Make a joyful noise unto the LORD..." Psalm 100People whose names I knowwhose faces I've never seenPeople who lived thousands of miles awayjoined in prayerand the prayers were heardtoday the words spoken last weeklost their bitetoday is the beginning of tomorrowsthank you for every wordevery prayerevery amen

marginaliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08863198545271471429noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12829103.post-30005972886644914152009-11-05T17:43:00.004-05:002009-11-05T17:57:39.537-05:00

My local CVS doesn't carry wristwatches anymore. You can't find analog televisions on the shelves. It's even hard to scope out a tape for a VCR player. Keeping up with changes requires a keen mind. Just when I learn the lingo, that technology is on its way out. Everything is replaced by a newer, brighter, more streamlined version. Some things don't change. They trudge along— often seen as

marginaliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08863198545271471429noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12829103.post-88516938026346443692009-10-27T23:46:00.004-04:002009-10-28T08:07:07.628-04:00

Did you speak without thinking?Did you want to bring good news?Did you forget that your words,magical incantations, words froma shaman, words penned in withtomorrows, words that made dancersof those who heard, words erasingthe past months of treatments , wordsthat made buying two year calendarsreal, lilting words, words poets use to juggle,These words that said you're fine, no moretreatments, no

marginaliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08863198545271471429noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12829103.post-34089515179344057202009-10-22T21:20:00.006-04:002009-10-23T07:11:40.235-04:00

I“Choose” he said, “between the blessing and the curse.” “Choose” he said, “between believing and being left out.” “Choose” she said, “between living in communion or alone.” This edict to choose—the red paper or the green paper, eat in or eat out, insider or outsider, a 37inch television or a 40 inch television or no television. Simple choices. Complex choices. Disconnect life support or not. And

marginaliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08863198545271471429noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12829103.post-75290500406667081982009-10-08T17:03:00.004-04:002009-10-16T08:19:57.903-04:00

What's wrong?Why do four boys break into someone's house, a randomly selected house, and brutally kill a woman and seriously hurt her daughter? Why did a few boys beat up a man so badly that he lives somewhere between life and death--unable to do anything for himself?What is missing from the lives of these boys? They all can't be mentally ill. They all can't be toadies. One of the boys, in the

marginaliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08863198545271471429noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12829103.post-23819326829591889142009-10-04T22:34:00.009-04:002009-10-04T23:19:32.841-04:00

Put salt out for the deerBake coffee cake and biscuits in the iron oven Gary Synder “Things to Do Around a Lookout"Things to Remember While Listening to One Hundred Folk SongsA morning at the Harper’s Ferry Folk FestivalListening to music played on a cigar box dulcimerWatching a mountain manTune sets of strings on a hammered dulcimerFour women sing "Amazing Grace" A capellaand transform a

marginaliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08863198545271471429noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12829103.post-60812030382445296192009-09-28T22:34:00.004-04:002009-10-02T08:22:22.432-04:00

IDays have a rhythm. Some, languid, while others harried—somedays devoted to roaming—but not without a purpose. The purpose discovered in the wandering. The third floor of this library, filled with non-fiction, exudes purposeful writing. Perhaps no one wants to read what these shelves hold. The quiet of the stacks floats around my soft upholstered chair.I've spoken too quickly. Several students

marginaliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08863198545271471429noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12829103.post-34440520258072734632009-09-24T18:53:00.003-04:002009-09-24T18:56:42.880-04:00

Some folks hone in on a particular hobby and spend a lifetime as a devoted follower. Others jump from one endeavor to another in a mad chase to find the ultimate— nothing lasts too long before it pales and they must seek another outlet. Of course it is possible to juggle a number of balls and engage fully in each. I'm engaged in the juggling of balls. A section in my basement holds the odds and

marginaliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08863198545271471429noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12829103.post-66240070106608595232009-09-23T21:30:00.004-04:002009-09-24T18:41:12.419-04:00

Changing your mind, deciding that you want to take a different route, not persisting on a path because you started that way—Changing your mind, applying the brakes when you recognize the futility of your position—takes guts. We've seen politicians adhere to a position even when the temper of the country dictates a change. In the past week I've seen or read stories about soldiers suffering the

marginaliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08863198545271471429noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12829103.post-88560460040335278582009-09-16T18:45:00.003-04:002009-09-16T18:52:34.875-04:00

Because I'm reading Homer & Langley, E.L. Doctorow's fictionalized account of the Collyer brothers, and because the brother's home was filled with tons of newspapers and found objects, I am stuck on the subject of clutter and space.When does a collection slip into clutter? Someone I know collects flamingos. Her bathroom contains flamingos holding a soap dish, two flamingos on either side of the

marginaliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08863198545271471429noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12829103.post-27564465272399490632009-09-08T18:46:00.008-04:002009-09-10T07:28:13.953-04:00

Words have a past. Now the Historical Thesaurus of the Oxford English Dictionary, a behemoth costing over $300.00, touts itself as a treasure chest of words, synonyms and the historical progression of words. Yet who can keep up? Perhaps they'll establish an Internet site to add new words as we coin them. They stopped collecting words in 2003. That means that for six years, and counting, words

marginaliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08863198545271471429noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12829103.post-24387445618427344722009-09-07T23:22:00.002-04:002009-09-07T23:24:39.050-04:00

The ordinary umbrella dates back 4000 years. I visualize someone complaining about the sun and another soul putting together the first handheld sunshade. I rather like other names for the humble umbrella: Bumbershoot and once used Bumbersol and Bumberbell—Or a brolly or a large gamp—

marginaliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08863198545271471429noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12829103.post-54220481417145596952009-09-04T18:55:00.008-04:002009-09-10T07:28:43.638-04:00

ISummer is waning, yellow school buses pick up and drop off students, evenings happen earlier, and the Red Gravenstein apples are ripe. Despite loving Gravensteins I'm not ready for the Apple Orchard. Walking among the apple trees means I've capitulated to autumn.It's easy to fool myself about holding Fall at bay. I'm still wearing shorts, my arms are bare and my toes wiggle unencumbered in

marginaliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08863198545271471429noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12829103.post-78091026752097302742009-08-23T19:03:00.007-04:002009-08-24T22:22:49.145-04:00

I spent part of last week infatuated with the ocean—not as a beach lover, nor as one who succumbs to the lure of large sandy expanses. It's the ocean either cresting and breaking or continually bearing down on cobbles that acts as a lure. If you see something everyday does the mystery disappear or deepen? Several years ago, on the way to Monument Valley, I stopped at a combo gas station/

marginaliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08863198545271471429noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12829103.post-65128516241475358382009-07-21T21:17:00.004-04:002009-07-21T21:25:56.878-04:00

How many closings of independent bookstores can/will a society tolerate? Probably not a question pondered by those addicted to avitars and giant bookstores floating in cyberspace. I don't loathe the mega stores on the Internet nor do I refuse the convenience of finding a long sought for book long out of print. I subscribe to a handful of blogs written by people who read and suggest new or old

marginaliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08863198545271471429noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12829103.post-61332432176347645762009-07-15T20:57:00.003-04:002009-07-15T21:00:45.933-04:00

When the only way I connect to what happens on stage is by standing offstage eavesdropping, a passive onlooker to what is unfolding, then it's time to invent a role—and the mystical belief in the strength of the role. Who has not promised to defeat, hold at bay, or alter a story by performing a ritual? Wear a special hat, carry a good luck charm, don't step on cracks, repeat a mantra, and

marginaliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08863198545271471429noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12829103.post-23198323661383121982009-06-23T19:07:00.005-04:002009-06-23T20:01:43.485-04:00

The waves, relentless in their cycle, wash the rocks in Maine while I watch each repetition. One wave carries foam, spindrift, and spends it on a barnacle encrusted rock. Spray, a geyser of white, engulfs a lobster trap hiding the red and yellow bands. Sounds echo. Ninety-Seven percent of the Earth's water is found in the ocean as salt water.The lachrymal or watery layer of my eye contains salts

marginaliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08863198545271471429noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12829103.post-39424461320590450432009-06-15T20:45:00.004-04:002009-06-15T21:45:16.994-04:00

"The things that you save—you save them, I suppose, so that when you're old, you can fondle and caress them and feel the breeze of nostalgia brushing your face. " The Indian Clerk David Leavitt Inclement weather lends itself to nostalgia. Yesterday I dusted bookshelves, pictures and what some people call knickknacks —stopping often to recall the circumstances and history of several pieces.A

marginaliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08863198545271471429noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12829103.post-70084885539234271102009-06-10T08:48:00.008-04:002009-06-10T18:24:12.950-04:00

Tizita means memory tinged with regret Abraham VergheseTizita 1My Bronx neighborhood halfway between the elevated train on Jerome Avenue and the Grand Concourse, home to blue-collar and white-collar first generation children of immigrantsincluded a Junior High School, Minnie's Grocery, a meat market, a Chinese laundry, a drugstore, and Mo's Candy Store. An orphanage —just beyond my immediate

marginaliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08863198545271471429noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12829103.post-47596040527457934792009-05-29T23:38:00.004-04:002009-05-30T07:29:28.193-04:00

Tonight sports became a metaphor for life. I watched the Red Sox falter, give up runs in a big inning, swat ineffectively at balls and lose. Sitting at home I couldn't do more than offer suggestions,Take out Wake. Why did you wait so long?Do something about the dh not hitting?My words echoed and no one answered. My daughter sits in an oncology office. She will take more tests. Tests to determine

marginaliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08863198545271471429noreply@blogger.com2