Ritagail’s posterous

 

Interlude from Drama

The North Wind is reasserting Winter on us, but, yesterday was a gorgeous day here in northeastern Oklahoma.  After trying to figure out how to get life back in order from the neverending jury pool drama, I biked to the local duck pond to get away from the "cares of the world" for awhile. 

Before that, I treated myself to a banana split.  Following are the two poems and some photos from the afternoon.  Enjoy.  (When I read the banana split poem to my banana loving husband, he said, "You don't know what's good!)

************************************

Banana split,
On a warm January day.
The only way
A banana should be
Eaten: 
Smothered in ice cream and goo
To cover its healthy
Banananess,
Which always makes me gag.
And so,
After several bites
With
Ice Cream,
I resort to the childhood tactic--
Eat that banana out as quickly as possible!
There!
Healthy part successfully down the hatch.
Aaahhh--ice cream, strwberries, nuts, and chocolatey goo--
Bananaless bliss
One warm January day.


******************************************

Bread,
Brown Wheat Bread,
$1.25 per loaf.
One for my husband.
It's not good for me to eat
Fresh soft yummy bread of wheat,
So I buy an extra
For ducks and geese.
Camera ready.
Surrounded by eager feathers.
Been too long
Since I visited the pond.
But,
Not so long that I don't remember
You--
Ok, here, but wait, now wait, there's
More
Here than you.
Shy ones.
Bold ones.
Feed, Click,
Wait a minute--here you go--
Throw
Pieces over there...
Pieces over there.
Nip. Nip.
Yes, I know
You
Are still right here.
Well, that loaf's gone--
Sorry, honey, will have to get you
Another loaf tomorrow.
Joyous feathers as I open second loaf.
Even the shyest come,
But not all the way to my hand.
Toss gently, aim well,
Yes!
Shyest hen got hers.
Click. Click.
Sorry, it's all gone.
Bright button eyes linger,
Watching me leave.
Feather therapy--just what I need.

           
Click here to download:
Interlude_from_Drama.zip (285 KB)

Comments [2]

getting ugly in the jury pool/peyton place

It's getting ugly in the jury pool.  Today, those of us whose names were drawn Tuesday and told to come back today, were told we aren't needed but that we have to report back Monday.  After giving our names to the court clerk/bailiff, of course.

The bailiff took my name personally.  I don't know if it's because she overheard me say out loud, "This isn't helping my anger issues any!", or, most likely, I was at the other end of the line and she was taking names at that end to speed things up.

She called after me to make sure I phone the number Sunday night to see if I'm needed.

Right.

(Allow me to insert here that persons who are in a position of power/authority, who constantly change things at the last minute create chaos and dissension.  If you've got a lot of irritated people "under" you, check how YOU are contributing to the chaos.)

Monday will be the fifth time to show up at court.  I'm not the only one whose nerves are being grated.  Several persons outside the courtroom were muttering expressions of disgust.  We are in this holding pattern until March, or until they settle all current cases, unless we get "lucky" and sit on a jury.

So, the question is, given my personal background, if I ever do get to sit up there and be questioned as a potential juror, and, if they are stupid enough to pick me as a juror after I answer all of their questions, which they will most likely be sorry they asked................will I do the best job I can as a juror? 

Yes.

Why?

Because, it is giving someone more of a chance at justice than I will ever get in this lifetime. 

As I was walking to the court house this morning, I thought about how I don't just believe in the "Golden Rule", which is "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you".  No, I'm Idiot enough to attempt:  "Do BETTER to others than I have had done unto me."  (And if I fall short of that or mess up, immediately apologize and/or amend if I can.)

What kind of world would we have if there were more Idiots like me?

Ok, enough of that.

I want to talk about "Peyton Place", "Return to Peyton Place", deceased writer Grace Metalious, and what it means to be a writer.  I think I've written some of this before, so please bear with me or scan down.

This past weekend, I saw "Return to Peyton Place" for the first time that I can remember.  I may have seen it or even Peyton Place, but, if I did, for some reason, seeing it this time "stuck".

"Return to Peyton Place", the movie, was made the year I was born, 1961.  That's why I decided to watch it.  This movie is based on the novel (based on life, but not true biography), about a young writer who gets her novel published and the aftermath in the snobby little community where she grew up.  To keep this brief, the point I want to make is that there is a scene in the movie where her step-dad has been fired as principal for putting her book in the high school library.  He is going to go to the town meeting to ask to keep his job, over the school board. 

The young author asks her stepfather, 'Is it really so important for you to be heard?" 

His answer is "Yes".

He is the only "adult" who seems to understand how important it was for her to be heard as a writer.

I've never really thought of it that way, but, it just might be that's what part of being a writer is about, about being heard.  I KNOW that this court thing is harder on me than some because of nobody in the proper authority listening to me as a child about my parents, in fact, very few have listened to me as an adult until they had to a few years ago.  (But still very little change in family behavior.)

So it is that I find myself waffling:  If I print my poems into book form, most of them are already online and have caused people to react in various ways ,but book form might cause even more reaction.......if I print these particular poems, will I inadvertenly ruin other people's lives?  And, if I don't, how do I handle censoring/suppressing myself?

Precarious journey of writers, particularly certain ones of us who seem somehow more vulnerable than others, though that vulnerability is hard to quantify/qualify.  (Hard "to put a finger on".)

Well, writers also read.  After muttering my way out of the courthouse........even restraining myself from kicking the walls, didn't even stomp down the stairs...........I stopped at the library to check out a copy of Peyton Place, just to read what all the hoopla was about before I was born.  (No copy of Return to Peyton Place was listed.)  I couldn't find the novel on the shelf.  There was a biography of Grace Metalious, titled, "Inside Peyton Place" by Emily Toth.  I grabbed that, then asked the nice young man behind the desk if he could please help me find the copy of Peyton Place, the novel, or was it checked out and I just missed that part on the record........

He looks...........

"Only thing I'm showing is "Inside Peyton Place" in Biography." 

"Nooooo.........", I say, "there should be a novel too, it's listed."

He's too young to remember parents watching the series while their kids are in bed, listening to the music play when the show begins.

"It's........lost!  Yeah, it says here that the copy of Peyton Place is lost."

"Reeeaaalllly" I say.

He has no clue and politely checks out the biography for me.  I give him a big smile and thanks and walk out intrigued.

To Be Continued.......................

Comments [0]

jury pool continues/inauguration

So, I get up and go to court to wait but my name isn't drawn for today's 22.  Soooooo....my name gets drawn of the 24 who have to report Thursday.

Only good thing is, I got home in time to see the Inauguration.  Blessings on our President, Vice-president and their families.  Let them have this day and night.

One thing no commentator has said (that I've heard):  What about Jill Biden and those go-go boots and mini skirt?  Her knees must've been freezin'!

Seriously, when the President and First Lady got out of their car the second time to walk together and wave to the crowd, I just cried.......and I'm not even sure I agree with his politics............

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breaking point

My sincere apologies to anyone and everyone in the parish office today.

--Ritagail

******************************************

Do any of us really know our breaking point?

I missed the cues to mine today. 

Some people will say I shouldn't write this, that if nobody says anything, why should I.  Because being a writer isn't about writing about everyone else and hiding oneself.  At least not for this writer.

I threw a nasty tantrum in the church office.  It's kind of a haze, but I know I slammed my fist on a desk, swore, threw some stuff.....think it was only my stuff, seems like I kicked a chair.....and..........finality..........SLAMMED! the door.

It doesn't matter what brought it on.  I take full responsibility.  Sure, I was already upset from having to remove a dead cat out of my biking lane so people in their motorized vehicles wouldn't desecrate it's body any more after killing it, but, hey, that's life, or death, or something.

It doesn't matter that I went to the chapel first, raged at God, then got on my face and tried to calm down, asking God to help me be kind and cheerful.......and then......what did I go and do?  Became a raging cow at something over which I had no control. 

No voice.

What scares me is, I didn't have any time to stop myself.  There was no thought process.

Wildfire.

A raging wildfire of voiceless
Invisibility
Swept through me
Burning fuel rapidly
Echoing my father's rages.
Is this all I have to look forward to--
Becoming an embittered pasture
Of a fire-mural rage?
If it is, God in Heaven,
Kill me now!

What was it that my father
Had no voice to give
That others would listen?
Was he, the brilliant one,
Invisible in his own eyes?
How do I stop becoming my father's
Unanswered child?

Oh.............damn!


(and i have to go to court for jury pool tomorrow, God help us all)

Comments [2]

Perhaps a Glimpse of God is Similar


I
Stopped
On my bicycle, on the side of a busy road,
Because the sun was shining--
Brightening--
The ice
Surrounding the trees and plants
Reaching
Above the marshy grounds.
I
Stopped
To observe how light and dark,
White and muddy browns,
Played patterns with shadows
Across the ice.
Then--there he was--
Or she--
A hawk,
Sitting.
Just sitting in a tree.
Looking "out".
Looking "down".
Searching.
I parked my bicycle as far away
As I dared
From zooming motor vehicles,
And then I
Sat.
And looked longingly,
Wishing for winged kinship.
I worried some about a cop
Stopping,
But none did.
Watching, we two.
Then,
I looked down to dig out pen and paper--
But he--or she--
Was gone.
I searched for that spotted breast
But only lonely patterned limbs
Were left
For my empty gaze to find.
So, I left my friend behind,
Enriched by the shared mystic sight.

Comments [2]

jury pool and link to "beauty" story

Thanks to everyone who is wondering how things are going in the jury pool.

Tuesday was tough.  And I wasn't even one of the 22 chosen to go through all the grueling questioning.  Those of us who weren't one of those 22 were instructed to remain and be attentive in case any of the 22 were dismissed and they needed a replacement.

For those of you who don't know, they needed 22 because the both sides, defense and prosecution, get to dismiss 5, leaving the final 12 for the jury.

I had a lot of thoughts that I'm still processing.  Some I'm not sure how to write, or even if I should write in a public forum.  Of course, specifics, I can't write, at least not until I know the case is over.

I will say one thing, if you are a "private" individual, this experience will squelch that.  I still can't believe the depth they were able to pry into a potential juror's life. 

And mind games.  To me it seemed that there were mind games going on with the attorneys.  "Nice" and sometimes even entertaining ones, but still mind games.  I couldn't get over my sensing that, although the judge says, and then both lawyers say, that only evidence is to be considered, that each lawyer is also setting up and weeding out persons they don't think they can persuade.  Kind of waters down the "evidence only" argument.

Subtle.  I'm not sure I would have picked up on it while sitting as one of the 22.

Slyness.

I guess that's the nature of "lawyer".

Yuck.

Anyway, that's all I'll write about that for now.  There's much more.  I have to report back next Tuesday.  We are in the jury pool until March, which means, if we aren't picked for a jury, we have to keep going back on the date they give us.

Now I want to give a link to a story that was brought to my attention by another person.  It is the story from about a year ago of the violinist Joshua Bell playing his violin during rush hour in Washington D.C.  I think there is also audio and perhaps video, I can't view or hear most of those types of files on my msntv 2 unit.  The article is extremely well written, so the reader gets a great idea of what happened, as well as quotes from persons interviewed.

During my nearly 48 years, I've frequently been accused of immaturity that is too distracted noticing things other people don't......mulling things over that others don't..........next time I stop to look/listen/ponder something--next time I'm accused--I need to Thank God that I'm "that way"!

Here's the link:  http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2007/04/04/AR2007040401721.html

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"jury duty"

First of all, Thank You to Everyone who reads my ramblings.  And a second Thank You to those of you who respond.  One person told me that the "comments" didn't work for her.  I don't know what's wrong, I thought I had it set up so anyone could leave a comment.  I will try to check later in the week, or next week.

This week, beginning today and continuing tomorrow, I have the new experience of (county) jury duty.

The first thing that happens is a person becomes part of a jury "pool".  Most of us without any knowledge of how to "swim" through this.......let me tell you!

We were all packed in hallway.  The line for signing in went down one side of the hallway and wound back around the other side.  As I got closer to the door, we were told to pass along that "M-Z" last names had plenty of space in their line.  This kept repeating the whole time, periodically reminding the rest of the line that if their last name was "M-Z" they could get in the other line..

I did NOT want to be here.  Not just because of being packed in with a lot of humans, but because of my own experience with "justice" in my lifetime.  I was determined to find a way to explain in detail and with all the controlled rage I could muster exactly why I have no respect for the alleged justice system.  Unfortunately, before I went to Packed Hallway Central, I stopped in at the chapel.  I'd been awake since 5AM arguing with God, and I was still arguing in the chapel.  I made the fatal mistake of saying, after calling God out for not helping me "back then" and not appearing to help me "now", of saying, "I didn't ask You what You want". 

Never say that to God. 

Well, almost never. 

You'll most likely find yourself packed in a crowded court room digging in your fanny pack for your ear plugs.

Remember, I don't have a car.  I didn't know if there would be a place to safely leave my bicycle, so I walked.  It isn't that far, but, tomorrow morning it's going to be ice cold going into that North wind.  Anyway, the car thing will come up a bit in a minute.

When I got inside the room, I knew I had to put my earplugs in, so, I juggled my tote bag, coat slung over one arm, my shoulder holding the door I was propping open for other people, trying to get my earplugs out of my fanny pack.  I muttered something about getting them in before I started screaming. 

The man in front of me heard me and asked if he could hold something for me.  The lady behind me said she'd hold the door.  It was the first time I can remember complete strangers being simultaneously kind to each other.  It wasn't just to me, it was everywhere around the whole court room........even when there was standing room only, and then those of us left standing were told to go up front while chairs were fetched.  We were taking turns moving around the chairs, letting each other have a seat first. 

I looked around the room.  It seemed everyone was clutching their papers and their big purple "JUROR" cards.  I didn't have a big purple card.  I noticed them even through the windows of the courtroom doors when we first got there.  When I went up to sign, the lady didn't give me one.  Before we were seated, as I was standing in the back, catching myself lightly banging my head on the wall, the lady who came to stand next to me held up her purple card and said, "Does this mean we're a juror?" 

I took my earplugs out and said, "I'm SO glad you asked that.  I thought I was the only one who didn't know.  That's for your parking.  I know this, because, I don't have a car, and, after I signed when the lady didn't give me a purple card and I asked her about getting one, she looked at me like I was an Idiot and told me it's for people who are parking their cars.  So....on top of everything else, I'm stigmitized here because I don't have a car............I don't get a big purple "JUROR" card."  I rolled my eyes.  We both laughed.  The lady said, "I'm so glad I now know what my purple card is for!'

After we were all seated, we had to "rise" for the judge.  He was ok.  Even had a bit of a sense of humor.  He impressed upon us that being able to have a trial by jury is one of the great rights we have in this country.  Even though he did that, he also impressed upon us that we really don't have much choice in being part of the jury pool. 

We were chosen from the DMV list.  If I hadn't kept up my driver's license, if I hadn't sent in our current address after we moved to this house, I wouldn't be spazzing out over jury duty.  My husband, who is close to legally blind and told he should NEVER drive a car and this past summer got told he shouldn't even ride a bicycle, found the whole thing amusing that since he doesn't have a driver's license he most likely will never have this experience. 

Husbands!

There are very few groups of persons who are exempt from duty.  To be exempt for mental health or physical reasons, you need something in writing from a doctor.  You are also exempt if you've committed a felony..........one poor guy who confessed in front of us all that he'd been in the county jail got asked "Was it a felony?".  "No," he quietly replied.  "Well, then, you aren't excused!"

So I'm sitting in the courtroom spazzing out because I kept up my driver's license, although I have no car, and I didn't commit a felony.  I wonder if I can commit a felony between now and whenever my name is drawn to show up for the next session..........my name got drawn for immediately--tomorrow bright and early in the morning........................

There seemed to be a genuine sympathy towards those of us who got drawn first by those who get to wait until next week.  I've been thinking about this the rest of the day, this, for lack of better word, comeraderie of strangers.  Then it hit me--we're all victims in this scenario  We have no escape.  We can have hope of escape and allow others to have that, but, we are stuck in the jury pool until March or until we actually serve.  Still, there's something else I'm sensing that I can't name.  I've been in other groups of people who were trapped.  Frequently there is a nasty spirit of turning on each other.  I don't know why this is so different.

Why does it matter?  Because, I want to "bottle" it and take it back to Church with me!!!

It's most likely something to do with the temporariness and that we are mostly all strangers to each other.  What does that say about getting along in community?

Can the two situations even be compared?

These are the thoughts I have after being awake since 5AM this morning, arguing with God, finding out I'm trapped because I did the Right Things............I know...........go get some sleep already!

I may not blog tomorrow.  I'm not sure what is going to happen.   And, of course, I know I won't be able to write specifics about the case, but, if there are some general things I can reflect on in the experience, I'll post them.

Sorry this wasn't more entertaining.  Besides being tired, the North Wind is howling around this room, almost as whiney as I am.   ;-)

Keep your driver's license and address current.  Don't commit felonies.  Be kind to each other, particularly persons you are close to every day. 

Ritagail

Comments [1]

Jan. 11 reflection

Acts 10:38 (NASB): " You know of Jesus of Nazareth, how God anointed Him with the Holy Spirit and with power, and how He went about doing good and healing all who were oppressed by the devil, for God was with Him."

Amazing.  Jesus had all that power, and what did He do with it?  He frittered it away doing good and healing.

What a rotten thing to do. 

He wasn't out there organizing Proper Liturgical Services, where, after all the puffing up of how a certain Latin Chant is THE chant of the Church and making people feel as if they weren't  True Christians if they didn't do THAT chant.......and then.....have a Mozart setting.

He wasn't standing around being self-righteous criticizing those who did such a thing.

He wasn't sitting on a throne somewhere making others do His work for Him.

He also wasn't out there doing the work and verbally bashing those sitting on thrones.

Nope.  Jesus, in all His spiritual power, was just going around doing good and bringing healing to the lives of anyone who asked  But they had to ask.  When we read the Gospels, we find most of the incidents (I won't say all because I could be wrong) were where people came to Jesus and asked Him for their own healing, or for the healing of others. 

I laid flat out on the floor of the chapel yesterday, and asked for healing.  For my own life, for our parish, for Christianity, for our World.

I invite you to join me in the asking. 

I  was also reminded of the following Scripture:

Galatians 6:9, 10 (NASB):  "Let us not lose heart in doing good, for in due time we will reap if we do not grow weary.   So then, while we have opportunity, let us do good to all people, and especially to those who are of the household of the faith."

Precious Jesus, will You please heal us?  Will You please encourage us, be our Companion,  and cheer our hearts, lightening our loads if possible, as we journey towards Eternity?

Amen.

Comments [1]

Epiphany reflection


Where are You,
Dear Child King,
My God, Who has
Become
Like me.
Religion has blotted out
Your shining Star of Faith.
Oh help me,
Child King,
Call to me in the darkened
Cave of religious righteousness.
Where are You,
Dear Child King,
Hear my voice cry out,
Send Your Star of  Faith to me
Now
Before I faint
And awake to find that only empty
Religion
Is left for humankind
And You have
Gone
Taking Faith with You,
Hiding it from us,
Lest we pollute it too.
Oh Child King
We are beggars in Your sight,
Grant us Your Star of Faith
In our hearts
To illumine this fateful Night.

Comments [3]

brief reflection day of Holy Family

I wasn't going to write a reflection for this weekend, but I kept feeling the inner nag to read today's Scriptures......it wasn't for me to write a reflection, it was to gently warn me of what I will suffer through at Mass.

Usually, the Holy Family day is taken as a day to expound one or both extremes:

1)  Family is Wonderful and we all are so happy together (or should be).

2)  Family is Order and Control and we'd darned well better set our houses in order, or we'll all end up in Hell.

In my loud mouth opinion, the Scripture readings for today are more about being at peace with each other, nurturing each other, which means that we give up our rights to be perfect ,happy, in control, etc.

It even means I give up my right to be right about this.

This morning I was reading some of Thomas Merton's poetry.........he wasn't a sweet life is cheery poet........remember that this day of honoring peace and family.

And now......off I hie meself to Mass........

Comments [1]