The Crown, by William Carlos Williams

The whole process is a lie,
unless,
crowned by excess,
It break forcefully,
one way or another,
from its confinement—
or find a deeper well.
Antony and Cleopatra
were right;
they have shown
the way. I love you
or I do not live
at all.




Daffodil time
is past. This is
summer, summer!
the heart says,
and not even the full of it.
No doubts
are permitted—
though they will come
and may
before our time
overwhelm us.
We are only mortal
but being mortal
can defy our fate.
We may
by an outside chance
even win! We do not
look to see
jonquils and violets
come again
but there are,
still,
the roses!

Romance has no part in it.
The business of love is
cruelty which,
by our wills,
we transform
to live together.
It has its seasons,
for and against,
whatever the heart
fumbles in the dark
to assert
toward the end of May.
Just as the nature of briars
is to tear flesh,
I have proceeded
through them.
Keep
the briars out,
they say.
You cannot live
and keep free of
briars.


Children pick flowers.
Let them.
Though having them
in hand
they have no further use for them
but leave them crumpled
at the curb's edge.

At our age the imagination
across the sorry facts
lifts us
to make roses
stand before thorns.
Sure
love is cruel
and selfish
and totally obtuse—
at least, blinded by the light,
young love is.
But we are older,
I to love
and you to be loved,
we have,
no matter how,
by our wills survived
to keep
the jeweled prize
always
at our finger tips.
We will it so
and so it is
past all accident.

One man's trash is...still trash.

Yes, my friends..it's that time of the year again...it's "big trash" day. It's that special occasion that only happens three times in the year: when Galesburgers can put their large trash items out on the curb and have them taken away by Waste Management, free of charge. Sounds benign, but what ensues is both fascinating and highly annoying. As soon as "big trash day" begins, you see cars, late model vans, and lots of trucks slowly driving and parking along both sides of the street. These rubbish robbers are perusing other people's trash piles for hidden treasures. Sometimes these vultures are there to take something from someone before they it's even placed in the trash pile! It is not uncommon to see two treasure hunters (I call them trash diggers) fighting over a special find like a wagon missing two of the four wheels. It's awe-inspiring to see these people in action. Part of me wants to know what they are going to do with their find. Part of me already knows:


Either way I am left wondering.. is this a regional thing? an issue of social norms? social class? is it primarily for fun or for profit? Just like the answer to "how big is the solar system?" I am left feeling resigned that I will never know.

Cubs Win NL Central!

The Cubs are in the play-offs for the second year in a row. Don't look for these Cubs to lose in the first round this year. These Cubs are for real. THIS IS THE YEAR! And this one's for my old friend KM! -Jeremy

My Everything Plus Everything Extra

Have I told you about my Xander? My sweet, lovey dovey, handsome boy Alex? I now know what they mean when they say "A Mother is a Son's First Love". You see, I am Xander's first love. He smiles when I enter the room. He turns his head to follow me with his eyes around the room. Even when he is sitting behind me, I feel his little gaze on me. It's almost like he's worshipping me. It warms me in a way I have never felt before. From the start, Ava and I had a more tenuous and tentative relationship. I cherish the time to rock her at night when she is sleepy or sick because I don't take her affection for granted. It's different with Alex, and I think that maybe it will always be. -Mindi

This guy's confused.. and so am I

I received this e-mail forward to day and feel elated that it's considered "viral". The writer articulates my beliefs so much better than I ever could.


Let me see if I have this straight… (I hope I’m not offending anyone)

If you grow up in Hawaii, raised by your grandparents, you’re “exotic, different.”
Grow up in Alaska eating moose burgers, a quintessential American story.

If your name is Barack you’re a radical, unpatriotic Muslim.
Name your kids Willow, Trig and Track, you’re a maverick.

Graduate from Harvard law School and you are unstable.
Attend 5 different small colleges before graduating, you’re well grounded.

If you spend 3 years as a brilliant community organizer, become the first black President of the Harvard Law Review, create a voter registration drive that registers 150,000 new voters, spend 12 years as a Constitutional Law professor, spend 8 years as a State Senator representing a district with over 750,000 people, become chairman of the state Senate’s Health and Human Services committee, spend 4 years in the United States Senate representing a state of 13 million people while sponsoring 131 bills and serving on the Foreign Affairs, Environment and Public Works and Veteran’s Affairs committees, you don’t have any real leadership experience.
If your total resume is: local weather girl, 4 years on the city council and 6 years as the mayor of a town with less than 7,000 people, 20 months as the governor of a state with only 650,000 people, then you’re qualified to become the country’s second highest ranking executive.

If you have been married to the same woman for 19 years while raising 2 beautiful daughters, all within Protestant churches, you’re not a real Christian.
If you cheated on your first wife with a rich heiress, and left your disfigured wife and married the heiress the next month, you’re a Christian.

If you teach responsible, age appropriate sex education, including the proper use of birth control, you are eroding the fiber of society.
If, while governor, you staunchly advocate abstinence only, with no other option in sex education in your state’s school system while your unwed teen daughter ends up pregnant, you’re very responsible.

If your wife is a Harvard graduate lawyer who gave up a position in a prestigious law firm to work for the betterment of her inner city community, then gave that up to raise a family, your family’s values don’t represent America’s.
If you’re husband is nicknamed “First Dude”, with at least one DWI conviction and no college education, who didn’t register to vote until age 25 and once was a member of a group that advocated the secession of Alaska from the USA, your family is extremely admirable.

OK, much clearer now. --Mindi

Happy Birthday, Ava!

My baby is 2! How can it be?!?! Where did the last two years go?

Ava's party was a true success. The day was breezy and just a little cool. Ava developed an uncanny ability to bust each and every balloon by poking them with her sharp little nail. She was truly the belle of the ball, a social butterfly, and as busy as a bee. The highlight of the day was the pinata, a fine princess in the likeness of Dear Ava. Mom painstakingly crafted the pinata princess's hair to look like Ava's slightly shaggy bob. It truly looked like we were celebrating a hanging when poor Princess Ava was strung up on a tree and beat beyond recognition by small children. After blowing out the candles on her cake, Ava bent down and took a large bite out of the side of her birdie. She opened presents feverishly and scored tons of princess and dress up wardrobe items. She chanted "2, mama!" all the way home. Where did the last two years go? --Mindi