Honoring Okra and the Summer Games

Who knew? I was on my way to the office listening to an update about last night’s games when this story from National Public Radio struck me from across the airwaves. Apparently, from the dawn of the Olympic games until 1948, poetry was included as part of the competition.

Olympic Stamp 1960 Greece

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The Ocean Knows

I want to tell you the ocean knows this, that life in its jewel boxes is endless as the sand,
impossible to count, pure, and among the blood-colored grapes time has made the petal hard and shiny,
made the jellyfish full of light and untied its knot,
letting its musical threads fall from a horn of plenty made of infinite mother-of-pearl.
— Pablo Neruda from Enigmas

 

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Preparing with a Poem in my Pocket

The idea is simple. Find a poem that you love or one that makes you laugh or something that conjures up wistful memories. Write it down. Put it in your pocket and throughout the day, share it with your friends and your coworkers and the people in line at the coffee shop and the students in your class and your family at the dinner table and whoever else you come into contact with. It’s National Poetry Month. Read poetry.

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Getting Back on the Turnip Truck

I have no idea where the phrase, “didn’t just fall off the turnip turnip truck” originates. In fact, if you talk with my 93 year old grandmother, she’ll tell you that the milk truck was actually more hazardous. Evan Morris believes it is an example of a catch phrase based upon urban-rural rivalry.

3 lb Turnip in my CSA (egg for scale)

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Cracking the Cultural Nut

A colleague recently told me, “I’m not nearly as good as you are at getting my kids out to cultural events.” I knew instantly that my own kids might prefer to live in her house. You see, I love arts and humanities and I have this twisted parental attitude that developed years ago while reading What to Expect When You’re Expecting that says, exposure to said events will result in increased synapse firing for developing brains. In other words, what I love must be good for them!

flickr.com/photos/peasap/photostream/

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Late Night Frivolity

Last March I wrote about the delicious evening meals enjoyed on our annual ski trip and the fellowship that endures around the table. This tradition also includes a post-dinner game night. Over the years, we’ve engaged in scavenger hunts, intense Pictionary matches, unforgettable charades and high-tech Olympics.

Red Team responding to Quiz Show

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Tammy’s Top Ten (t3 report) Food Songs

I thought it would be hard to find ten. But the struggle came in the whittling down of a brutally long list of food songs. Who knew there were so many and that I’d have had to spend hours on youtube listening to ensure that I’ve happened upon the right selection. I don’t know that I have. I loosened my criteria. Weird Al was disqualified. I closed out anything from Sesame Street or Raffi. And while Taco Wagon by Dick Dale and the Del-Tones is right up there for great music, it had no lyrics. The good news is, that while there are oodles of old songs about savory morsels, the new genre is keeping up just fine. This however, is a sort of an oldies list.

I’d never heard this song before and thought that it was quite fitting for my own story.

Agrigirl’s List of Food Songs

1. Canned Goods by Greg Brown (more…)

Louisiana Purchase?

My skin started to prickle as I drove into the underpass. Of course I was secure in my car even if it was dark and I was in a new neighborhood but, I was still thinking of my evening conversation. That guy on the bridge was there for seven days.

 

flickr.creativecommons/photos/shawnzlea

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Tammy’s Top Ten (t3 report) Ideas for Poetry to Enjoy

As another tribute to National Poetry month, I’m offering up ideas of places to start in order to “taste” poetry. I hope you’re moved to grab one  and give it a try. And in full disclosure, let me admit to pirating a few choices from the lovely list compiled by Nancy Pearl and given out in her interview with NPR earlier this week.

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Dinner and a Poem

We were gathered around a large table for the neighborhood potluck. My husband and I are fortunate to live in a community where this is not a rare occurence. On this particular eve, we were celebrating a marriage.  At some point during the meal, our neighbor J stood up and announced, “I’ve got a poem.” And he read that poem from his tall wiry Elvis Costello like frame with animation and emotion. I was sort of embarrassed, a bit amused and definitely intrigued. Days later I followed up with his wife, “Does he read poetry often?” “Oh yes,” she sighed “and he’s serious so I have to stop and listen. There was the time at our daughter’s 16th birthday…” her eyes roll to the back of her head and she relives the teenage embarrassment of the girls gathered for that event.

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