The Errant Spider

     This morning I drove ¾ of the way to work white knuckling it on the Parkway. Now, I’ll admit I do have somewhat of a driving phobia, which is just one of a number of phobias that plague me, but my driving phobia did not rear its ugly head this morning. I was happily coasting at approximately 70 MPH, when I detected movement on my dashboard. It was a spider, just strolling along, minding his own business (mild arachnophobia is another of my phobias, by the way). He was a little guy, and not headed in my direction, so I tried to brave it until I arrived at the office, where I would rerelease him to nature. That plan was foiled when he began his descent on his thread of silk, heading directly for my exposed knees. (It could only have been worse had I been barefoot!)  At this point I had to pull onto the shoulder and stop him mid flight before he landed. I have to wonder how bright I was. My car is very nearly an antique, literally, albeit not the desirable kind, like a Muscle Car or a Model A Ford. My car is just plain old! Like me! Appropriate, don’t you think? The pick up on this car is negligible at best, (if this was an Aesop’s Fable, my car would be the tortoise) and it did not want to accelerate as I re-entered traffic with cars bearing down on me at about 85 MPH.  Thankfully, I did manage safe reentry, only because everyone behind me switched lanes. So-I put myself in a precarious traffic situation so that a spider would not make physical contact with me…Sometimes I really wonder about myself….

Potpourri

     Patience is a virtue, one that I am surely lacking when I am waiting for my final grade. I have checked the school website so many times that I have lost count. Professor assures us that grades will be posted by Friday. A friend of mine asked me if there is any doubt as to what my grade will be. I am fairly certain it will be an A, but I still want it to be official.

     Luckily for me the exam was last week and not this week, since I am seriously sleep deprived. I have a new neighbor moving in upstairs from me. This fellow isn’t even in yet, and already he is problematic. Three times in the last week he started moving stuff in at 10:30 P.M., and continued until after midnight. And no, I did not take this sitting down. I am going through proper channels to resolve the problem. I did speak with the super a couple of times, but last night was the third strike for this vampire tenant. At 12:20 A.M. I came tearing out of my apartment like Secretariat out of the starting gate at the Belmont Stakes. "Is there some reason why you need to be doing this at midnight?",  I politely queried...(ya think? No, I was really hot...)  Next time it happens will be payback time, and you know what they say about that…So, if you hear vacuuming, hammering, or loud, blaring music at 5:00 A.M., that will be me...

     My college offers GED  classes, and recently they posted a picture of the graduating class. In the center of the picture is a fellow with decidedly grey hair, who appears to be even older than me! Wow! And I thought I was a late bloomer! However, once I read the caption, I realized he was a former governor, who had been the guest speaker at the ceremony. Oops!

     Twenty something son #2, whom I haven’t seen in weeks, came over for a visit last evening. Being divorced, I rarely cook anymore.  However, I offered to cook his favorite dish for him. This was indeed, a bribe. In exchange, he helped me complete my FAFSA application.      

     My fall semester schedule is like having dessert before dinner. All four courses are by choice…Yes I did say four. I added another one. My new friend from film class plans to take five courses this fall, and she still has children living at home. She is such an inspiration…. So I added  “Fiction & Film Studies” to my schedule, which will be held on Friday nights. For me, Friday night classes are exceedingly desirable, as there are an abundance of parking spots-and a minimum of youngsters.

Buddy

     I did exercise my prerogative to change my mind by completely modifying my fall schedule. I dropped the three courses that I had planned originally, and registered for World Geography, a Social Sciences elective, Dynamics of Communication, a required course,  and Evolution of Film, a diversity elective. (You had to know I wouldn't be able to resist the film course). My schedule will be 2 days per week, Tuesday and Thursday.  Quite frankly, I didn’t want to attend class on Mondays anyway, as Buddy, the canine Kevin Mc Allister, would be home alone on Mondays. Like Kevin, Buddy gets into all kinds of mischief if no one (namely me) is here to police him.  In a recent fit of separation anxiety, he ate an entire book in one sitting! It would be a book on films. A $50.00 book at that! The bugger’s got expensive taste. He also chewed the entire cover off of an equally pricey Julia Child cook book, and he taste tested my sentimentally valuable book about Palisades Park. Apparently the leather binding on it wasn’t gourmet, since he only sampled a few bites.                                      

     We need to keep the bathroom door closed, or he shreds throw rugs, as well as whatever goodies he finds in the wastebasket, or laundry basket. He is particularly fond of my unmentionables, especially if they are new. I have found numerous underwires scattered on the floor, looking like the springs from a ball point pen. He has also jumped on the loveseat and torn down my curtains, rods and all. Once I took a 5 minute walk to discard  the trash, and I subsequently walked back in to find him sprawled across the loveseat, curtain rods clenched in his mouth, my curtains resembling a bib on a teething baby. Not that he’s so much better when the sons are here. He paces and pants furiously whenever I am out. When we originally brought Buddy home, he was clinging to me like a blue claw crab on a Maryland beach. I guess he thought I was his mother, and in 7-1/2 years his clinging has not diminished in the least. Last night, I went to a movie with friends for a mere two hours.  Upon my return, all 106 lbs. of him curled up in my lap and hyperventilated for over an hour. As dumb as he is, Buddy is masterful at laying on the guilt. But at least my curtains and few remaining books were intact….

Reality

     This age thing is becoming glaringly obvious in numerous aspects of my life, and I am beginning to panic. A bunch of us from my apartment complex had a barbeque today. We are a diverse group of varying ages and ethnicities, all of us dog owners, and dog lovers. At any given time on any given day, our courtyard is like a mini dog park, with an equally varied group of dogs running around playing together. The owners resemble a group of parents at a playground, socializing while the kiddies play. Of course there are always the few canine kiddies who are incorrigible, and will run off given the first opportunity. It is amusing to watch us ladies of a certain age attempting to sprint after the elusive greyhound wannabes. A 30-something neighbor of mine became genuinely concerned, fearing that one of the “old ladies” was going to fall and break a hip. Aghast, I expressed to her that we are not that old. She gazed at me with a mix of surprise, pity, and amusement, if that’s even possible. I could see the unspoken question of  “how young have you deluded yourself into believing you are?” running through her head like a banner on a movie marquis. What age do I perceive myself to be? Well, in my head, I’m 30-something too, although my body is screaming at me “you’re flirting with 60, you’d better get used to it” (though sixty is a ways off yet…). Okay, so I’m in denial, but I am becoming enlightened as I witness sentiment ranging from concern (as in my neighbor) to ambivalence (of some who shall remain nameless). A distant relative of mine, who is a mere 20 years old, indicated on FB that she was “freaked out by a 60 year old woman who was working out at the gym, who has long hair and the body of a 19 year old”. Some of her friends were equally ambivalent:  “Ew, gross”, they opined in unison.  I was compelled to comment that I give the woman a lot of credit for taking care of herself. By  the way, up until about six weeks ago, my hair was 2/3 of the way down my back. And I work out. So there.  (I know, that was juvenile).

     In all seriousness, at the age of 50-something, I have earned the right to style my hair in any manner I please, wear hip hugger jeans if I want to, and try to outpace the younger set on the treadmill at the local gym. Thanks to my post menopausal higher levels of testosterone, I will not so subtly admonish opposing opinions of those who disagree with my choices.

     It seems to me that we older folks are caught up in a "semi-senior Catch 22”. We are criticized if we let ourselves go, and we are criticized if we try to look and feel young as long as we can. The youngsters can’t have it both ways, however. Besides which, it would behoove them to encourage older people to work out, and eat right, and try to stay young. This way, the chances of them becoming caregivers will diminish, as we strive to be healthy and maintain our independence.

      So here I am, on what is for me a typical Saturday night, wrapped up in my routine of writing, reading, and cuddling with my dog, while my young neighbor is outside socializing with the other 30-somethings, blissfully unaware of what she inspired. The fact that I love these quiet Saturday nights is in itself, telling. Reality, be gentle with me.

How Do You Spell Relief?

     How do you spell relief? Well, certainly not R-o-l-a-i-d-s…I would say it’s two words, spelled like so:  s-e-m-e-s-t-e-r  o-v-e-r. I had my final exam in Film Study Thursday evening.  I’m sure there are many of you who are equally relieved, as you have probably tired of hearing me agonizing over my upcoming exam for the past week. Of course, it wasn’t as difficult as I had anticipated (except for the glossary terms), but then, I do apply myself. I simply need to have more confidence in my abilities. My professor surely has boosted my confidence. His praise and support have actually caught me by surprise, as positive reinforcement has always been lacking in my life. It is very flattering and gratifying (not to mention motivating) to have someone of his caliber praise my work, and more importantly, believe in me.

     After having completed three semesters since my return to college last fall, I am at long last becoming acclimated. I am now finding it easier to talk with the younger students, and I find some of them to be quite interesting. One in particular, I found especially intriguing. She has a double major and attends a prestigious university. (She was enrolled at my College for a summer course). On the first night I met her, I was discussing one of my favorite topics, i.e., being an older student. “You’re not old” she elucidated. “I had a gentleman in one of my classes who was 80”!  (I wish I had been in his class. Then I would have been one of the “youngsters”).  In any event, she was visibly impressed with this man, and displayed a very positive attitude toward older students. I found this to be endearing, as of late I am noticing the disdain that some of the younger people have for older folks, but that is a topic for another post.  Moving right along, I managed to spend time talking with her every week. On the last night of class, she was recounting to me studies she had conducted  with her “neuroscience” class, without a hint of condescension. Now that’s impressive! I hope I am fortunate enough to cross paths with her again.

     I am fairly certain that I am going to take that other film class in the fall. I am working on a schedule which will allow me to take 3 classes in a nicely condensed two days per week. This will afford me time for studying, quality time with Buddy (my 106 lb. Lab), and time to pound the pavement.  Besides which, I have so much to do at home…I need to spend time cleaning and organizing my apartment, tasks which are not a priority when I have class, not to mention organizing my repertoire of literary works. A condensed schedule will also afford me more time to write! Lucky you! Lucky me!!!!

A Woman's Prerogative

     It is a woman’s prerogative to change her mind, right? Well, I think I’m going to change my mind about biology. My professor is teaching a film class in the fall which I can use as one of my electives…hmmm.  Why would I want to study biology when I can study film? (The procrastinator in me is egging me on here, in case you couldn't tell...)  And I know the professor. Sounds like a win- win to me. I believe my well thought out fall schedule is going to get a total upheaval. I’ll keep you posted.

     You know how I occasionally brag about what a good speller I am? Well, I had a heck of a time with the word "prerogative". I hate to admit this, but I didn't know how to spell it. "Spell check" apparently can't spell it either, as it didn't automatically correct my butchered version of the word. I grabbed my trusty dictionary, which I keep by my computer, and for the life of me, I could not find this word. Here are some of the variations that I tried: perogative, perrogative, purogative, purrogative (the feline version).  No luck! Now I'm getting frustrated. Alas, Google to the rescue!  I Googled "a woman's perogative", and didn't the phrase pop up, with the correct spelling!  I never would have guessed that it began with "prer". This is not the first time that Google has gotten me out of a bind. I think Google is amazing!

   

Paranoia

I am always in a panic

if there’s a test to be had.

When this short semester’s over

I will surely be glad.

Although I love film

and enjoy going to school,

I find the final exams…

are always a challenge!

As is my ability to rhyme, at times…..

     I’m just going to ramble today. There is nothing exciting or especially humorous to disclose, as I have been concentrating on preparing for my exam this coming Thursday.  I did ask 20 something son #1 how badly I could do on this exam and still pass the course, taking into consideration the other grades I have earned thus far. He indicated that I could pretty much get a zero and pass the course. Well that certainly isn’t going to happen. I am always paranoid when I am faced with an exam. However, I have found that I always

devote more time to my studies than my younger counterparts do. I worked on my last paper 8-9 hours (sorry if I’ve mentioned this repeatedly-considering my age that’s something you’d best get used to) whereas a 20 something in my class spent 2 hours on hers. I’ve been known to take days off of work, and even spend entire weekends preparing for an exam. (I actually did that once in Western Civ, and then I discovered I had studied the wrong chapters. Are you noticing a pattern here?)  My paranoia is somewhat excessive this semester, though. I attribute this to a number of contributing factors: this normally 16 week course is compressed into 5 weeks, I am under a good deal of pressure at work, and I am somewhat paranoid under the best of circumstances. On occasion, when I was very young, I would avoid studying for a test, and then pray that I would earn a good grade. (Dumb, I know. I'm talking grammar school here, and we started every day by attending Mass). Now I am studying like mad, and still praying for that good grade. I have been more successful lately, however. God does help those who help themselves.

Volume Control

     Thirty something son recently went on a weekend getaway. So he texts me, saying that “he must be getting old”, because he had gone to a club and the music was too loud. I explained to him that, speaking from personal experience, quite the opposite is true. If he was getting old, or if he was already old, the music would not be loud enough. He ought to know-he recently bought me a blu ray player with surround sound. Why? I asked him for one because I cannot hear my television. The volume on my television at any given time would rival that of any band in any club. Just ask my neighbors. Recently I was watching Shane (for class), and at one point an explosion of gunfire erupts. The next day I read in the paper that there were reports of people hearing gunfire in the township. 

     Speaking of Shane, I was complaining to 30 something of exactly this scenario. I was unable to hear the dialogue, so I had the volume blaring, and when Shane fired his gun, I near catapulted through my ceiling. So when I go to class, Professor is discussing the movie, and guess what? That is exactly how the director designed the soundtrack, for effect. And hear, I thought it was me…

(Pun intended. I’m sure you know by now that I can spell.)

Jeeps, Vans, and SUV's

Do you realize that I                 

am not able to see

through your oversize van

or your SUV?

Not your 4 wheel drive truck

or your obnoxious jeep.

So slow down and try to

keep an eye out for me.

     People who are driving oversize, unnecessary, dangerous vehicles do not realize that these vehicles are not transparent.  This is an issue that drives me to distraction.  For instance, when I’m driving on the highway, it is impossible to see the traffic conditions up ahead, unless I am lucky enough to have a compact car in front of me, which is only rarely.  When I’m backing out of a parking spot, which I do very slowly if my vision is obscured, which is all the time because so few people own compact cars anymore, I have had people whizzing by while laying on the horn. When people are in a crosswalk, a vehicle is supposed to stop, as the pedestrian has the right of way. I’m okay with that, except what about the person behind the SUV with no ability to see ahead? That in itself is an accident waiting to happen.

     My personal favorite occurs by schools. It happened today on my way to work. (It happens daily, actually). But today was different. A guy in a van pulls over to let his kid out and he stops directly behind the crosswalk. So when I am driving down the street, how am I supposed to see the kids crossing in front of his van before they are directly in front of me? Big surprise!  I can’t!  I expressed to this guy today that he shouldn’t park there. Looking decidedly puzzled, he asked me “why not”? Because I can’t see children through your van, you damned fool!!!!!!  No, I didn’t say that. I simply stated in exasperation that I couldn’t see. Then, the situation goes from bad to worse when he starts driving while looking at me and nearly runs a girl over!  Perhaps that got his attention. I hope it was a wake up call. What do you think? Personally, I’m not convinced.

     Common sense is all that is required. “Van Man” apparently doesn’t have any.  And a whole lot of other folks out there as well. Personally, I do not give a hoot how high the gas prices go, because the higher they are, the fewer of these gas guzzling, 4,000 lb. hazards will be on the roads.

Over the Moon

 

     I was discussing the upcoming weekend with 30-something son, and I indicated to him that I was not making any plans since I have so much homework to do…30-something’s response: “Are you sure?”  He suggested I should reread my syllabus. I suggested to him that he is a wiseguy.

     I received my graded paper on Casablanca, and I got an “A”. Professor was highly complimentary of my writing.  I was so happy, I was over the moon! It was very gratifying having such positive feedback, especially considering that I hold him in such high esteem and I value his opinion.  I have one more paper to submit and one exam to take next week, and then, unfortunately, this class will be completed. This is a class that I would have preferred to have spread over the 16 weeks. My BFF suggested I take the courses I don’t like in the summer, since they will be over quicker. I consider that concept very enticing, but unfortunately, none of those classes (and I won't disclose which ones they are) fit my schedule this year. Therefore, in the second half of the summer, I am taking Creative Writing. This is another course I would like to have had spread out over 16 weeks, but alas, it is not to be. My next sixteen week course (in the fall) will be Biology. Ugh!

I'm No Chemist

     Copper sulfate: commercially produced chemical compound How is it produced? By mixing various copper compounds with sulfuric acid. Brief definition: a poisonous blue crystalline copper salt used in agriculture. Let me get this straight. It is toxic. It is harmful to living organisms. So why the heck is it an ingredient in the peanut butter that I’ve been eating on a daily basis since I don’t know when? Recently, while partaking of my daily peanut butter fix, I noticed a comment on the label indicating that this “spread” has less fat than peanut butter. I thought I was eating peanut butter. This is when I decided to actually read the label, especially the ingredients. “Copper sulfate” jumped out at me like a thoroughbred in a steeple chase. Now I’m no chemist, but this didn’t sound good to me, so I “Googled” it. I found that humans handling the substance are required to wear protective gear. I also discovered some suggested uses: herbicide, pesticide, fungicide, (in lieu of eating it, perhaps I should apply some to my dog’s ringworm). It is not to be used in waters containing goldfish, or trout. Sounds like an ideal food additive to me! NOT! This substance is also found in dog food. Apparently copper by itself has nutritional value. Okay, I’ll buy that. But what about the sulfuric acid? I have been hearing snippets about unhealthy food additives, but as usual, I am always too busy to really pay much attention. However, I’m thinking this may be the time to start. On my next trip to the supermarket, I purchased a moderate size jar of organic peanut butter. It has four ingredients, none of which could kill the algae in the local pond. Of course, the cost was considerably higher, not that I mind. I'm usually a penny pincher, but henceforth, I am willing to spend more on what I ingest, and save money on things that won't negatively impact my health.

My Tribute to the Victims of 9/11

          "The Day America's Innocence Died" by Marcy Brice 09/14/2001

This is dedicated to the people who lost their lives
on the day America's innocence died.
To people in buildings, in planes, on the ground
in Washington, Pennsylvania, and New York town.
We honor your courage, defiance, and grace
while staring blatant evil and death in the face.
To the stewardess who had the presence of mind
to forward a perpetrator's seat number to the FBI.
To the people who crashed on Pennsylvania lands,
making sure no more would die at the terrorists' hands.
To those bound for New York who fought so hard for control
trying to deflect from the target's countless toll.
To the people in the towers, so brave and so true,
for helping peers and coworkers, carrying them through.
To the rescuers on the ground, for their tenacity and great courage
to sift through the ashes, the rubble, the carnage
to bring us back our loved ones, our friends, and fellow citizens.
We honor you, we salute you, both police and firemen.
To our brothers and sisters whose loved ones are missing or gone,
it's so important you know that you do not grieve alone.
There isn't one among us whose lives have gone untouched.
Now is the time to come together for the country we love so much.
God bless our great country, America, the red, the white, the blue.
We'll honor, we'll love and protect you.
To our homeland we'll always be true.

Western Civ II

 

     Going to school as an older adult is nothing short of amazing. Take Western Civilization, for example (a class I wasn’t exactly excited about). We reviewed World Wars 1 and 2 in class, and I found the subject matter to be startling, to say the least. I had to have learned about these wars in High School, but I don’t recall that I did (perhaps because I'm too old to even remember High School). My point is, how could they not have made an impression on me? The numbers of casualties in both of these wars alone is staggering. My interpretation can only be attributed to perspective. Being older, and especially being a mom, changes everything.

     We also reviewed the Cold War. As a child, I remember seeing something on TV about the Iron Curtain, although, again, specifics elude me. (Heck, if I don't remember High School, I certainly can't be expected to remember much from when I was in grammar school). I do, however, somewhat remember the Cuban Missile Crisis, only because of air raid drills in school…I was in a classroom of little first graders hiding under our desks with the shades drawn...

     At this point in my life, it is certainly interesting to understand the intricacies of these wars, an epiphany actually. One thing is sure, though, I will never understand why some people(or a lot, apparently) value power, land, control, money, whatever, more than life itself, which is sacred.  I myself am a firm believer in "Live & Let Live".

     But back to Western Civ. The class itself was somewhat challenging. We ended up having our professors switched twice during the course of the semester. I was filled with trepidation, although I knew in my head the change would prove a positive influence on my resilience (at 50-something, I haven’t had enough practice yet…). I met the challenge, despite these changes, and also having had 3 classes cancelled. Score another “A” for me! I ultimately regretted that the class was coming to an end, especially once we were beginning to cover events that happened in my lifetime. But alas, I am done with History.

On Being a Mom

     I really do try not to “mother” my sons too much, but sometimes I just can’t help myself. I remind them about all the usual stuff. You know, dentist appointments, doctor appointments, be careful driving, don’t drink, don’t smoke. The list goes on and on…. One of my favorites, though, is the traffic report. Can anyone out there tell me why I haven’t figured out that my 30-something son is capable of listening to the traffic report before he leaves for work, without my coaxing? I heard this morning that there was an accident on a major highway near the town where we both work, so I had to text him (and wake him out of a sound sleep) to tell him about it. Oh-I forgot to mention that I start work one hour earlier than he does!  He thanked me, and promptly took the same route to work regardless. Am I surprised by this? Of course not-he probably did it on purpose! Much to my chagrin, everything was clear by the time he arrived! And no, he didn’t bother to check the traffic report himself before he left... I knew it! Why else would I have texted him?  

      I have to say, he was very patient with me. I wasn’t scolded and I didn’t hear the old familiar question: “Remind me again how old I am?”  Oh, but they get even. They have turned the tables on me: “Mom, is your homework done?” (my personal favorite); “Where do you think you’re going?” (okay, that is a bit of an exaggeration); “What time will you be home?” (that's a reasonable question).  That list goes on and on too!  

      I guess old habits die hard. I know they are capable, accomplished men, it’s just that no matter how old they are, they will always be my babies (don’t anyone tell them I said that). I guess I need to exercise some self restraint, and have confidence that they will figure things out for themselves.

An Oldie but Goodie

This is an incident that still angers me...I wrote this in May 2010:

           "Black Bayou"             

The Gulf of Mexico is now filled with oil.
It is a dismal place where no fisherman toil.
They stand in a line awaiting soup and bread.
Thanks to BP, the fishing industry is dead.
An endless flow of oil, it seems,
Is devouring rivers, marshes, and streams.
Dead and dying animals numbered in scores
float in the waters and litter our shores.
Helpless animals at the mercy of man
are left suffering, dying, time and again.
Unparalleled arrogance of a few
precipitated the demise of the Blue Bayou.
BP officials in their fancy suits
are living the good life while ignoring the news.
They fly in the face of God with no backup plan,
 no regard for the environment, wildlife, or their fellow man.
The oil's flow is left unabated.
BP's feeble attempts to stop it ,overrated.
Over seven million gallons of crude have now spilled
from the hole where these greedy vultures once drilled.
When will the catastrophe come to an end.
It's time to take action, no longer pretend.
Stop sitting back waiting for pockets to fatten.
To curtail the arrogance of man, what more has to happen?

Overwhelmed

     It happened again! I spent the better part of Memorial Day weekend on my studies, and was becoming increasingly alarmed. I am experiencing that familiar feeling of being overwhelmed again due to the volume of work I have to do. How will I manage the rest of the semester when there are no more three day weekends? I decided to reread the course syllabus on Tuesday, and came to the realization that I have misinterpreted it again! I did two weeks worth of assignments last weekend instead of one. Whew! What a relief! On a positive note, I am a little ahead of schedule. That’s a real perk considering the class is just 5 weeks in duration. I am confident that I will interpret the course syllabus accurately the 4^th time around. You know the old saying: if at first you don't succeed... get one of your children to help you!

     I spent all of this afternoon doing homework: I watched “The Graduate” & “Shane”. Now this is my kind of homework! They should have invented this concept a long time ago! 

     I was discussing my fall schedule with a friend, and I indicated to her that I will be studying biology. “Ooh”, she replied, “will you be required to do any dissecting?”   “I sure hope not. The course is “human biology”.

Film Class

 

     I love, love, love my film class. Over 5 week’s time, I will read about movies, watch movies (10 to be exact), analyze movies, write about movies, and talk about movies, and when I’m done with all of this movie mania, I will have earned 3 college credits! Can you beat that? Last night I spent 1 hour and 40 minutes in class, and for an hour, we discussed Casablanca, one of the great classics, and one of my all time favorites, which, incidentally, I recently viewed on the big screen. This is also the film I chose as the topic of my first paper. Professor asked who in the class enjoyed writing their paper. No, you don’t have to wonder. My hand shot up like that of a youngster without arthritis. He queried me briefly about the content, and then followed a glorious lecture and discussion about Casablanca and other films. Of course I dated myself again. When names like June Allyson & Luella Parsons came up, no one knew who they were-except me, and the single older student who sits next to me. I honestly don’t know if the youngsters in the class will really appreciate the great film classics. I guess if they are true movie buffs they will. I grew up on these films, watching “Million Dollar Movie” and “Picture for a Sunday Afternoon” with my folks. That is where my love of films originated. As for the writing-that came from my Dad, who was a poet, albeit unpublished. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

Conflicted

Whenever I am weary I’m compelled to write a poem

to ease my tired mind and feed my hungry soul.

To unleash my anger, to quell all despair

in those times when life seems to be so unfair.

When I’m feeling conflicted and the way is not clear,

for self motivation, to quash all my fears.

Writing lifts my spirits so I’m able to see

that my life is filled with endless possibility.

That where there is life, hope will always reside

if I follow my heart and swallow my pride.