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Some experiences in life make us all the better for having had them, even if we may not believe that to be the case at the time. Often we may not recognize the goodness or richness inherent in an experience until much later, especially the mentally or physically or emotionally challenging ones.
Maybe that delayed learning is the essence of human adaptation in the face of seemingly unbearable pain or change---letting go when it seems no good can come of it or holding on for dear life to all that seems to have meaning. And sometimes both of those sentiments are wrapped up in one event, symbolic gesture, touch or sound. Who hasn't been catapulted decades back at the sound of a few chords from a song or felt tears well up at the sight of a tri-fold American flag presented with the thanks of a grateful nation to a bereaved mother or young widow?
Occasionally we are blessed by the gift of understanding even in the very same moment. Those instant revelations seem to fill our senses to bursting as we struggle to absorb and appreciate the full measure of their meaning on the spot---as a new baby first suckles at its mother's breast or with the exchange of trust when a new driver is given the keys to a car on his or her first solo date.
Perhaps the blessing is surviving those life events to allow understanding to occur in the fullness of time. That is, maybe individual experiences only become more meaningful as we age. Layered one upon another, they seem to make us wiser, stronger, more complete---like the plies and cross plies in plywood or the over-lying layers of fiber glass in a boat hull.
Time allows us to process what has occurred into why it happened in the first place. In those first few proximate moments, the why often remains hidden, sometimes in plain sight. Yet it waits to be discovered when our vision has cleared and we are ready to see.
The KART (Kids Are Readers Too) Foundation Honors Bill Kirk’s “No Bones About It” as a Middle School Kids Book List Award Winner for 2011-2012. The KART Foundation is the charitable giving branch of PediNatural® Books. The organization’s Kids Book List is compiled by the South Jersey Children’s Literary Festival selection committee and consists of books in three age categories.
The objective of the annual selection is to highlight children’s books with content that appeals to children in each age group: 2-5 years, 5-9 years and 9-12 years. The selected titles are deemed to be memorable and to enhance the gift of learning as a child grows.
Kirk’s book, which was selected among the ten winners in the 9-12 age group, is a non-fiction children’s picture book written in rhyme. The rhyming verses cover the bones in the human skeleton from the toes to the skull. In addition, the book is loaded with curious and interesting facts to stimulate learning about the skeleton.
Kirk says his inspiration for the book was his grandson who was learning about the skeleton in seventh grade science class several years ago. “Some of those Greek and Latin derived terms aren’t especially easy. So, I figured there must be a fun way to make the technical terms stick.”
According to Kirk, “No Bones About It” became Book One in a series of anatomical rhymes on several other systems in the human body. Thus far, four books in the series, known as THE SUM OF OUR PARTS, have been released by Guardian Angel Publishing in Saint Louis, MO, including “Circulation Celebration”, “Muscles Make Us Move” and “A Brainy Refrain” in addition to the bones book. Another five books are in the publication pipeline. All the books are illustrated by Eugene Ruble, whose quirky drawings and illustrations give the technical terms a visual context in the body.
The KART Foundation believes that introducing books at an early age will allow children to naturally master developmental milestones essential to solid learning. KART is committed to promoting and implementing children’s literacy programs and services throughout New Jersey, Pennsylvania and Delaware. The KART Foundation also distributes new books to children through educational learning institutions and libraries. Kirk’s book certainly meets the KART standard of excellence.
Title: No Bones About It
Author: Bill Kirk (http://www.billkirkwrites.com)
Illustrator: Eugene Ruble
ISBN (e-Book) 13: 978-1-935137-78-6
ISBN (print) 13: 978-1-935137-77-1
Library of Congress Control Number: 2009931676
Publication Date: July 2009
Number of Pages: 28
Price: Ebook $5.00, CD-Rom $10.95 (+$5.95 s&h), Print: $10.95 (+$6.95 s&h)
Available at most online booksellers or from: Guardian Angel Publishing, Inc.
By:
Bill Kirk,
on 3/8/2012
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****** FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE ******
Sacramento author Bill Kirk's children's picture book, "A BRAINY REFRAIN" (illustrated by Eugene Ruble), has been released nationally by Guardian Angel Publishing in Saint Louis, MO under their Academic Wings imprint in e-book and print form. Both formats are available for sale through the Guardian Angel Publishing web site and from most online retailers, such as Amazon, Google, Target.com and Barnes and Noble.
Book's Blurb: "A BRAINY REFRAIN" is the fourth in a series of anatomical rhymes by children's author Bill Kirk. The series, which is called THE SUM OF OUR PARTS, will eventually cover several anatomical systems including the skeleton, muscles, skin, circulation, respiration and many others. The entire series will be "kid-friendly" with just the right balance of technical content, humorous verses and anatomical factoids, brought to life through the playful illustrations of artist Eugene Ruble.
Learning about the brain and nervous system can be a challenge for anyone. Using this clever learning tool may be just what you've been looking for. You'll be amazed at how fast you will be able to learn the brain and various nerve pathways in your body. The subject matter and presentation format are ideally designed to support the science curricula for middle school grades 7 and 8. However, they are very suitable as basic human anatomy learning tools for elementary school age children 6 to 12 years old and even older students having difficulty with the subject matter.
Author's Bio: Kirk's writing has been influenced by his travels on five continents and the every day inspiration from his grandchildren. In addition to stories written in rhyme, Kirk writes fiction and satire for local and national publications. Kirk also wrote news and features for two Sacramento newspapers in the mid-1990s, The Suttertown News and The Old City Guardian. His children's stories have appeared in Boys' Quest, Fun For Kidz, Grandparents, Wee Ones and Saplings magazines. His poems have also been published by North Dakota Horizons, Absolute Write, The Baseball Almanac and the University of South Carolina Gamecock Health newsletter.
Kirk says his goal for his children's stories is to challenge the imagination of his readers, young and old, by exploring everyday life, simply and profoundly, and having fun in the process. Bill and his wife, Rita (a clinical psychologist), married since 1969, have made Sacramento their home since 1985.
to check out what reviewers are already saying about this book. To request review copies of "A Brainy Refrain" or to request an interview with the author, please contact the publisher, Lynda Burch, at [email protected] or (314) 276-8482.
Title: A Brainy Refrain
Author: Bill Kirk (www.billkirkwrites.com)
Illustrator: Eugene Ruble
ISBN (e-Book) 13: 978-1-61633-232-7
ISBN (print) 13: 978-1-61633-231-0
Library of Congress Control Number: 2012934652
Publication Date: February 2012
Release Date: March 1, 2012
Number of Pages: 26
Price: Ebook $5.00, CD-Rom $9.95 (+$5.95 s&h), Print: $10.95 (+$6.95 s&h)
Available at most online b
I am remiss, having let a whole week pass before posting on my blog about being selected by a fellow children's writer,
Carol Bender as a recipient of The Liebster Award. I hope you will take a moment to zip on over to Carol's blog which is packed with good stuff. She is far more energetic than I when it comes to throwing light on the writing craft. Thanks so much, Carol, for this recognition. I am honored to be in the company of the other bloggers you have tapped.
Now, back to the award. So, here's the scoop: The word
Liebster is German and the English translation is
beloved, dear, dearest or
love. Hey, we can all use a little of that, right? And today I am the recipient. Carol was somehow captivated by my blog and she has bestowed me with the honor of wearing the Liebster Crown.
According to the inscription on my notification, the
Liebster Award is given to lovable blogs with less than 200 followers (which would be mine), as a way to recognize the blog's worthiness and drive more readers to it with the goal of increasing the number of blog "Followers". So, to those excellent followers I now have and to all future followers, thank you for your vote of confidence. I hope my blog will continue to be a frequent stopping point and resource for each of you.
But the honor doesn't stop there. As a recipient I have two primary duties, in addition to continuing to provide my followers with blog posts that will keep you coming back for more.
First, I am supposed to list five tidbits about myself that others may not know. And,
second, I am to share the Liebster love by selecting five other fledgling bloggers as recipients of the Liebster Award.
So, let's get right to it. First, the tidbits:
1. I am not particularly superstitious but, without fail, I have always eaten blackeyed peas on New Year's Day for good luck. It's a southern thing.
2. The longest distance I have run in a 24-hour period is 75 miles.
3. In 1983 I stayed overnight in the U.S. Ambassador's residence in Nouakchott, Mauritania.
4. I once stuck a pitch fork through my foot.
5. I was actually Captain Kirk for eight years during my Air Force career.
Now, I have the envelope containing the five candidates next in line for the crown. They are among the bloggers I currently follow in my wandering through the blogospere. Some of them participated in the
Mother Reader BlogComment Challenge in Januaryr. All offer their own unique talents and gifts and a willingness to share their knowledge and experience as practitioners of the writing craft. Now, on with the bestowal ceremony:
1.
Margot Finke is a rhymer extraordinaire with a limitless list of promotional tricks up her sleave. She takes networking to a whole new level.
2.
Donna Martin is in a constant state of blogging motion over at On The Wright Track, providing probing posts that push the envelope and a few buttons from time to time.
3.
Mary Kinser is a librarian in training, according to her blog. But if her exceptional reviews are any indication, she will no doubt pump life into any library where she ends up landing.
4.
3 Comments on The Liebster Award, last added: 2/9/2012
Anyone who has written in rhyme or attempted to do so, has likely struggled with the question of whether it is good enough---meaning good enough that someone other than the writer (or writer's mom) will like it. Will it be deemed to have sufficient appeal amongst the reading public to actually be published?
(Note to self: interesting how "public" and "published" have the same root, isn't it?).
But is the goodness (or shall we say "seriousness" of a rhyme, in terms of its quality) solely in the eye of the beholder? Or are there particular inherent characteristics of a rhyme itself that can be classified or measured---that give it legs; make it last?
Right off the bat, let's set aside the publication issue of goodness versus rightness. An editor's or a publisher's decision to go with a rhyme may have more to do with "fit" rather than how well the rhyme is written. In a short piece for a magazine, the rhyme has to be relevant to the theme. It must also target the appropriate age and be true to the magazine's mission and vision. If the monthly theme is airplanes, a rhyme about the anticipated trajectory of bouncing beach balls probably won't cut it, no matter how good the rhyme is.
So, for sake of argument, we will assume the rhyme flows smoothly, has no obvious speed bumps in its rhythm and that it may even have a surprise twist to get a chuckle or even a sardonic eye roll out of the editor or publisher. But use of rhythm and wit in rhyme is a different topic entirely. So, let's set it aside for the moment.
Instead this post is about goodness versus badness in rhyme solely in terms of rhyming words and line endings, AKA rhyme scheme. This will be mostly a structural discussion of perfect rhyme versus near rhyme and forced rhyme. In the words (pardon the pun) hammered home by one modern day bard (M.C. Hammer in "You Can't Touch This"), let's "break it down!"
GOOD (PERFECT) RHYME: So, what are editors and publishers looking for? Before jumping in, I should qualify this answer as being based on my own personal experience with rejection---no, not that kind of rejection; I mean by editors and publishers---and what they have told me from time to time that has helped me improve my rhyming game.
Generally, a good rhyme must... well... rhyme. And it must rhyme well. Near rhyme and forced rhyme are taboos which we will cover when we get to the "bad" stuff. Rhyme assumes that a set of rhyming words will follow a certain sequence. Rhyming sets come in pairs or fours or other groupings and can have either single (ray, say) or multiple (hatchet, ratchet) rhyming syllables. But in either case, the endings of the rhyming lines should sound the same. And the pattern of how the endings are used in the verse should be consistent.
In a Shakespearean Sonnet, for example, the rhyming scheme is laid out in three quatrains (four-line stanzas) and an ending couplet: abab cdcd efef gg. Following that rhyming scheme, in each stanza the first and third lines rhyme, the second and fourth lines rhyme and the last two lines (the couplet) rhyme. In "Mary Had A Little Lamb", disregarding the repeated lines (little lamb, little lamb, little lamb), only the second and fourth lines in each stanza rhyme (_a_a _b_b _c_c _d_d). And using this as a brazen attempt at self-promotion, a four-line rhyming scheme can be found in my rhyming picture book "There's A Spider In My Sink!" where all four lines in each stanza rhyme (aaaa bbbb cccc dddd, and so forth).
Regardless of the rhyming scheme you choose, just remember to keep your intended rhyming line endings sounding the same and your rhymes should be good except...
...when they're not.
BAD RHYME: Apart from problems with the content of a rhyme (flaky or shaky story, nonsensical verse that isn't otherwise interesting, funny or cute) and
Another "short" post today---I've got writing to do (he says as he contemplates the remote odds of completing a blog post in under ten minutes). My recent participation in the Mother Reader Blog Comment Challenge (visiting and leaving comments on five blogs a day for most of a month) got me to thinking. Admittedly, there is some danger associated with my engaging in that endeavor---thinking, that is. But I feel compelled to forge on.
What it got me to thinking about was how or if it might be possible to become an efficient blogger, to the point where blogging doesn't put the clock in over-drive? In theory, it could work. After all, how difficult could it be to click through five blogs, quickly read the blog post (or some part of one) for the day on each, leave a short if inane comment and get out?
I suppose the answer is, not too difficult if the objective is simply saying you did it---check off the five and move on. Never mind the whole other question of actually responding to the comments you may receive. Do you "reply" on your own blog or do you take the time to visit the commenter's blog and leave a random comment there? At best it seems we are sticking up yellow sticky notes on random bulletin boards in the Student Union of life. Is that any way to live?
When I'm blogging, what tends to happen is one thing leads to another. I get sidelined by something provocative or interesting and truly amazing that someone whom I have never met has written on their blog. And just as I am poised to click "PASTE" in the comment box, leaving something like: "Nice blog post. I would never have thought of that---this is so interesting I'll be back when I have more time.", my click finger gets a spasm, the only cure for which seems to be repetitive tapping on a succession of keys on the keyboard.
There go my hopes and dreams of blogging efficiency, suddenly dashed on the rocks of reflection and response. A blog comment here and another there and suddenly it's noon in a time zone several hours to the west, you know, like the middle of the Pacific as I sit in the only room in the house with a light on. That's about the time I hear the click of the front door latch as my wife arrives home from work, stumbling into the dark entryway, living room and kitchen. Had I been faster, I could have turned on some lights, at least leaving the illusion that I have done something else besides blogging the day away.
Now back to my original question: Is efficient blogging even remotely feasible or is it simply another oxymoron? The best I can hope to do is provide you with the definition and let you be the judge. According to The Urban Dictionary (and probably most others), the term "oxymoron" comes from the Greek words "oxy" (sharp) and "moros" (dull). Its meaning is any number of variations including something about two words which contradict or conflict with each other, that is, have opposite meanings often in a humorous or sarcastic way. Examples include: "Reality TV", "Jumbo Shrimp", "Healthy Tan", "Military Intelligence", "Free Trade", "Benevolent Dictator" and the list goes on....
So, where will each of you come down on the question? Good luck with your own attempts at achieving blogging efficiency. Whether successful or not, feel free to share a comment here based on your first hand empirical evidence. In a few days, I will wander back to compile the results from this admittedly unrepresentative sample. Until then, to paraphrase SNL from days past: "Blog on, Garth!"
By:
Bill Kirk,
on 1/26/2012
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Just when you thought it was safe to break out your rhyming dictionary (or start running all your rhyming endings alphabetically through your head), someone tells you there's gender to contend with in the rhymes you write. What's up with that? After all, the last time you paid any attention to linguistic gender was Spanish class in the ninth grade---or was it when you ordered that beer during Spring Break in Puerto Vallarta?
No matter. The last place you thought gender would be an issue had to be rhyme, right? Well, fear not. It's not quite as problematic as you may anticipate. In fact, except that someone back in the day must have thought structural endings and sounds ought to be classified according to gender, it's unlikely that anyone would even notice. But just out of curiosity, it might be fun to try and sleuth out who among the ancients decided gender was important---and why.
So, where did the whole gender in rhyme thing originate? Did the early Chinese rhymers grapple with gender in their day? Although some of the oldest surviving Chinese poetry contains lyric aspects, because the written language is character based, any gender association to poetic form may be difficult to tease out. Left with that uncertainty, is the male-female poetic structure primarily western in origin? Could it simply be a non-functioning, vestigial "leftover" from Old Latin which etched its subtle tracks on the English language as romantic entanglements ebbed and flowed across Europe?
According to one source in the English Department at Carson-Newman College, (http://web.cn.edu/kwheeler/lit_terms_R.html) the word "rhyme" itself originates "from Old French, rime meaning 'series,' in turn adopted from Latin 'rithmus' and Greek 'rhythmos'." Given some of the other gender assignments in Greek and Latin, might we ascribe gender features to the rhyming verses penned by the early Greeks and Romans?
No doubt, the definition of gender in rhyme could probably be argued until the cows come home, with a break taken only for milking before the debate starts again. As is true with virtually any sorting out of why words in any language might be classified as masculine versus feminine, rhymes are no different. One thing seems clear: at least in English, gender in rhyme seems to have little or nothing to do with the gender rules found in some romance languages.
That is, whether a line of verse in English ends in an "a" or "o" or other gender laden vowel or consonant, doesn't really matter as much as it does in the Spanish language. And speaking of word endings, despite its compromise value in the Italian language, the use of a neutral vowel (such as the letter "i") at the end of the plural form of both masculine and feminine words is not a gender-driven issue in English rhyme. But you have to admire the logical recognition of not being able to sort out gender in groups.
In the French language, the definition suggests line ending words which end in "e" are feminine and those that don't are masculine. Some sources also refer to "e" endings and unaccented ending syllables as being weak. Although I was a French major in college, I'll leave the "why" of those "differences" to others who know far more about the origins of the French language and who don't mind getting their shins kicked.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, although the reasoning might be debatable, the rules regarding gender in English rhyme are remarkably clear. According to the Collaborative International Dictionary of English, a female rhyme has a rhyming set in which the rhyming lines end in double-syllable words (ego, amigo). A male rhyme, on the other hand, is one where only the last syllable in the line endings agree (stand, demand). No doubt you have noticed the difference in where the stress is placed---keep reading.
The definitions are extended slightly in Brande and Cox (A Dictionary
If you have a website, you probably struggled through its birthing process from concept to reality. You can take comfort that you aren't alone. Your pain is felt by many, myself included, agonizing over such questions as: What design should I use? Should I use a template or should I go with code (.html, that is) and carve out my own layout? After all, there's something to be said about being the master of my own destiny even if it is with baling wire and bubble gum. Then again, maybe I should just hire it all out. How much could it cost anyway for the basics about who I am and what I'm peddling? And what's all this fuss I hear about content anyway?
These are just a few of the questions facing those pursuing an identity on the worldwide web. Consider for a moment what drove your website decisions about both the design and content? Did you hire a website designer to help chart your course in cyber space? Whether "designed" or home grown, to what extent was the cost a factor in your website decisions? Either way, are you satisfied with the outcome? And if you had it to do over again, would you follow the same path? What would you do differently? I'll start out. Feel free to chime in about your own experience.
Relatively soon after I got into the writing game (meaning at the point when my mom told everyone from her beautician to the pharmacist that I was writing poetry), I began to feel the push toward having a website. Actually, it was more like standing on the edge of Niagra Falls with a cheering crowd behind me yelling, "you don't need no stinking barrel!" Way back in those days (meaning about four years ago), I knew nothing about websites or how to design them; or, truthfully, what to put on them.
I began with a very basic (we're talking two tin cans and a string here) "website" offered by AOL using their "AOL hometown" template. My content was minimal--mostly a little background information about me (the poet, remember?) plus what I was working on currently and a list of two poems I had published so far. The AOL template offered four or five colors, a few "header" themes and about three text boxes to key free-form text into.
Needless to say, it was a modest website. But when I finished, I thought I had indeed arrived in the cyber world. The only problem, no one knew I was there which, in retrospect, was probably a good thing. But at least if someone asked me, I could beam with pride (OK and maybe a little smugness) and give them my URL. Hey, I was nothing if not pure coolness. I mean, I could totally imagine myself in a TV ad: "Got URL?" "Well, duh! Yeah, I got URL!"
Oh, and did I mention my URL was 43 characters long and included most of the letters in the English alphabet, three carefully placed Chinese characters, half the symbols across the top of the keyboard and six forward (not backward) slashes. Come to think of it, the URL actually looked a lot like the inside of those cartoon bubbles when the speaker is really, really mad.
And I'm sure it was for security reasons that whatever was keyed into the URL line could not be copied and pasted in the event of a keying error. That is, it had to be totally rekeyed from the beginning. Needless to say, I didn't have a lot of visitors to my website.
Yet, imagine my panic when about two years later, AOL announced via message that they would be eliminating their "website" feature in 30 days. Assuming ALL CAPS meant they were serious, I immediately followed their suggestion to save off my content, which I dutifully did in a Word file (with a hardcopy backup of course). Then, I sat site-less for nearly a month until I mentioned my dilemma to a cyber-savvy friend.
With great patience and forebearing (both biblical concepts), he showed me the basics of website design using .html code. I must say, after mastering my AOL URL, I actually found .html fairly easy. He also talked me through the drafting, editing, saving and uploading steps required
Hard to believe the last two months have flown by with virtually no writing. But my blog stands before me with my last entry on October 2. So, before November totally escapes, I'm offering this short rhyme as a self-portrait. It is also the Rhyme of the Month on my website for December if you care to drop by. Cheers and Blessings.
A Self-Portrait
By Bill Kirk
What you sees is what you gets;
A happy life with no regrets.
S'ppose there could be one or two-
But hardly more than just a few.
There was that time I smoked a pack
Of Camels in the barn out back
At grandpa's farm-and I turned green.
But since then, I've been strictly clean.
And who knew Saki mixed with beer,
Would make my vision so unclear?
Going down, it tasted fine.
But later? More like turpentine.
Once I bought some swampland, too.
What a deal! I had no clue.
At last, we sold it ten years later-
Never found that alligator.
Rubbed some blisters; skinned some knees.
Got stung by some wasps and bees.
Gained some wrinkles, lost some hair;
Won a few bets here and there.
Found true love along the way-
Thank my lucky stars each day.
A life well-lived without a care.
And blessings? Yes, at least my share-
What you sees is what you gets;
A happy life with no regrets.
S'ppose there could be one or two-
But hardly more than just a few.
By:
Bill Kirk,
on 10/2/2011
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Every year about this time, the weather starts to go all wild and wacky in the Sacramento Valley. Last week the temps tickled the 100 degree mark; today we are struggling to make the low 70s and rain is on the near term horizon.
But Sacramento is not the only place where weather can be unsettled this time of year. Recalling the many other places I've lived, whether the southeast, north central, east, or southwest, changing weather patterns are on the weather menu all over the country. In North Dakota, they say if you don't like the weather, wait five minutes. And it's still hurricane season until the end of November.
Just for fun, here's a short collection of weather rhymes to kick things off for fall. Maybe one or more will ring familiar wherever you are. Enjoy.
"Fog"
When I look outside my window,
And fog is all around,
There’s nothing I can see at all,
From tree tops to the ground.
"Rain"
Drip. Drip. Patter, pit.
Little drops of rain that hit
My umbrella. Under it,
I’m a perfect fit.
"Wind" (Haiku)
I can hear the sound
Of a soulful wind outside,
Blowing in the trees.
"Snow"
Crystal flakes go swirling by,
Falling from a cloud-filled sky.
Will they leave us like a sigh,
Or drift in snow piles ten feet high?
"Hail"
What’s that on my window pane,
Tapping with a Rat-A-Tat?
Cold has quickly frozen rain
Hail is falling, just like that!
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Bill Kirk,
on 8/17/2011
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DAY 6: Thursday, August 4
This is the final installment---the last day of our backpacking trek. Today we will arrive at our end point on Donner Pass Road. While planning the trip, our daily mileage estimates were just that. We looked at topo maps, read recent reports from other hikers and hoped for the best. In actuality, each day took on a life of its own as we experienced gains or losses depending on trail conditions, unexpected detours, actual time underway with packs on, fatigue and the location of suitable stopping points. As the saying goes, all days are good but some days are better than others.
Here's what the record will show:
DAY----PLANNED MILES----ACTUAL MILES
1--------------------14.5--------------------13.1
2--------------------10.5--------------------12.0
3--------------------13.0--------------------11.0
4--------------------13.0--------------------10.5
5--------------------11.5--------------------13.5
6---------------------2.0--------------------6.0
TOTAL------------64.5-------------------66.1
So, today, instead of two miles to hike out, we have about six miles remaining. Although not a lengthy hike compared to our other days, these final six miles will not be without their challenges, hints of which were noted even overnight.
Some time after midnight, a strong wind could be heard in the trees above us and the temps had dropped, to the extent we thought an unexpected Sierra storm might blow in during our last night at camp. This morning, the sky is brilliant blue at sunrise and the wind has moved on with nothing to show for all its bluster last night. But it is still cold enough (low-30s) that all of us have added layers. In fact it's the coolest morning by 15 degrees than we have experienced all week. I suppose camping right next to several tons of snow will have that effect....
Sure enough, by the time we eat breakfast, the sun has partly cleared the trees behind us and the layers start coming off as we break camp for the last time. Given the slightly longer (and now apparently warmer) hike out, we take stock of our water supplies, knowing there will likely not be any water until we meet our ride home at Donner Pass Road. As extra insurance, we melt and boil snow sufficient for breakfast, preserving our remaining water for the trail.
As we busy ourselves with camp chores, on everyone's mind this morning is the impassible snow field between us and where we will find the trail again. The overnight temps have crusted the surface of the snow. What was slushy when we arrived last night is now almost solid with no "give" underfoot. The proverbial "elephant in the room" comes to mind and this one is clearly a white elephant. Almost on cue, we all begin to verbalize our options:
1. Cross the snow field at the level of our camp. It's the shortest distance to the other side. So, conceptually, this is an early favorite. But a quick test shows there is zero footing on the snow surface. Lacking ice picks, visions of a speedy descent to the rocks below quickly make this one is a non-starter.
By:
Bill Kirk,
on 8/15/2011
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Notes to Readers---Three things:
First, as I write these accounts of each day on the trail, it strikes me that the great advantage of specific events is they give us opportunities to focus our thoughts for a short time on some particular thing so we can record as accurately as possible what occurred. As time goes by, the recollections of the details around the edges of the experience may fuzz up a bit. If any of you have considered capturing your own life experience "on paper", as a good friend has reminded me, there is no time better than now to start.
Second, if any of you are inclined to share a comment about what you read here, feel free to leave it directly on this blog site if you wish. Realizing that may require some type of recognizable identity so "Blogger" will accept your comment, if you prefer not leaving a comment here, that's fine too. But if you already have such an identity (under Google or Yahoo or Blogger or other portal), I would enjoy reading your impressions.
Third, I've spent a fair amount of time describing the trail, including its beauty and its challenges, along with some of what our daily routine has been. But I now realize I haven't provided much detail about what we are eating along the trail or about some of the decision process we used to get beyond obstacles of one sort or another. In the last two installments, I'll try to do a better job of that at least as a point of reference for what we liked or didn't and what seemed to work or didn't for our group.
DAY FIVE: Wednesday, August 3
We are up early this morning, knowing that topping off our water will take a little longer as our access to Whiskey Creek is about 200 meters behind us and off the trail. But the day is glorious once again and we enjoy breakfast of either oatmeal reinforced with GORP (that would be me), freeze dried eggs or of some sort or oatmeal (that would be Matthew and Mark) or a wholely cooked exotic grain (prepared by Ike and Joseph).
The concept is to get down some quick and easy calories (as many as possible) and to stock our easily reachable pockets with high energy snacks to consume on the trail. Some choose power gels, others concentrated fruit bars or jerky. And of course, a cup of hot chocolate (or coffee with a hot chocolate boost in the case of Ike and myself) goes a long way to getting the day started right. And by way of a personal anecdote, Starbucks VIA instant coffee makes a good cup and is a great way to reduce pack weight. After each meal, everyone collects their trash and stores it away in our individual bear cannisters. And as room is made inside the bear cannisters, other items fill the void as a way to manage the bulk inside our packs.
2 Comments on Day Five On The Pacific Crest Trail, last added: 8/17/2011
DAY TWO: Sunday, July 31
Got up early this morning eager to hit the trail. Because we had the benefit of starting our trek from the comfort of Todd Thompson's cabin yesterday morning, this is our first full day from start to finish on the trail.
As a practical exercise, it is our first experience stepping through what we expect to be a morning routine: breakfast, tents down, all gear repacked, morning constitutional, water supplies replenished, energy supplies for the day easily accessible....
As with any first time experience, there are lots of "dos" and "re-dos". Is my pack as tight as it can be? Is my water topped off and did I distribute it evenly in my pack? Is the bear cannister positioned where it will be most comfortable on my back? Where did I put my walking stick? Sun screen and mosquito repellent on? Leave no trace.
We leave our accommodations near Gilmore Lake by 9:30 as the sun is already beginning to warm the air and the mosquitos are on the hunt. We have seen almost no wildlife on the trail except a rare sighting of an occasional bird or marmot. So, how can there be so many mosquitos with so little to feed on? With the heavy and late snow falls this year and the delayed spring, the mosquitos are birthing late and are in survival mode. That might explain the constant swarms around us---even hundreds perched on our packs as we hike, waiting for an injection/extraction opportunity.
The only natural defenses seem to be a stiff breeze or the cold air surrounding us as we hike across snow. And did I mention real estate? Apparently, mosquitos didn't get the memo re: location, location, location. Based on the number of bites (I stopped counting at 200) in places where there shouldn't be bites, let's just say mosquitos are not picky eaters. Granted it is anecdotal evidence from a limited sample of one using a small spade in the forest. But I can attest to a validated research finding suggesting an untapped market niche for TP infused with "Essence of Off"!
Leaving Gilmore Lake, we hit a steady uphill with several large snow fields to cross. If the slope faces north, you can count on snow. Navigating across even narrow stretches of snow is a challenge with a pack on your back. But after losing the trail too easily east of Aloha Lake yesterday, we are tuning in much more closely to where the trail should continue on the other side of each patch of snow. Although we only lost the trail briefly on the approach to Dick's Pass (elevation 9,380 feet) this morning, it has taken us over three hours to hike up through the pass and back down to Dick's Lake (elevation 8,360 feet).
The relatively easy hike on the "down" slope leaving Dick's Pass has made the decision easy to pass Dick's Lake by, opting instead to pump water at the north end of Fontinillis Lake, about 1.5 miles further on. We are celebrating that decision on two fronts: the mosquitos have totally disappeared and Fontinillis Lake is strikingly picturesque, beautifully set amidst lots of large boulders all along the shoreline.
After replenishing our water and recharging with GORP, energy bars and gels, Middle Velma Lake is our next landmark, which we should reach by
This post is the start of a series of posts summarizing a recent backpacking trek along a section of the Pacific Crest Trail (or PCT as it is known), which extends 2,627 miles from the Mexican border to the Canadian border. I was priviledged to share the trail with four others from Boy Scout Troop 259 in Sacramento, CA, where I am the current Scoutmaster. Others in our party included Ike Krieg (Assistant Scoutmaster), Matthew Puliz (Eagle Scout), Mark Matney (Eagle Scout) and Joseph Krieg (Star Scout).
As treks along the PCT go, our six-day trek was relatively short by comparison, covering only about 66 miles. Many others have hiked far longer stretches, including the full length either on one trip or in pieces. But I would have to say, the 66 miles we covered were plenty challenging enough to create memories that we will no doubt be talking about for a long time---including how much we might have left behind to lighten our packs.
Before striking out on the trail on July 30, we overnighted at the Thompson cabin near Echo Lake, about 1.3 miles from the trailhead at the Echo Lake spillway. We were grateful for the hospitality---a huge loft with plenty of flat space to bunk our group on July 29.
That layover night was money in the bank on two accounts. First, we had a chance encounter with three "through trekkers" who had left Mexico two months before and were on their way to Canada. Their packs looked like not much more than day packs compared to our over 50-pound packs. Second, the layover allowed us to acclimate to the elevation at around 7,500 feet before kicking it up a few notches on the trail.
Hereafter, the action will be in the present tense.
Tonight (July 29), we are eating our sack dinners as our last meal before embarking tomorrow. Having a little time on our hands, we are also jettisoning some non-essentials from our packs to get our pack weight down---probably not nearly enough but it's a start: Camp shoes, gone. Fleece sleeping bag liner, gone. Three small fuel cannisters, gone. 50 feet of climbing rope, gone. Long Johns, gone. I'm feeling better (and lighter) already.
DAY ONE:
The first day our destination is Dick's Lake, nearly 15 miles away. Under normal trail conditions, that distance would be very doable. And based on our start at the Echo Lake PCT trailhead at 7:30 this morning, we like our chances. An earlier start would have given us a little more breathing room. But estimating a steady yet comfortable speed of 1.5+ miles per hour, how can we not make Dick's Lake by sundown? Little do we know what lies ahead.
After some moderate "ups" and "downs" along the trail, we left Lower Echo Lake and Upper Echo Lake behind us. The trail is good and we are eager for a memorable trekking experience. Soon after passing Lake Tamarack, we are seeing the first traces of snow along the trail. By Aloha Lake, the traces are becoming more frequent and more expansive. To boost our water supply for the remaining long miles today we decide to pump water at Aloha Lake. The rest stop with packs off is welcome as we snack on GORP, jerky an
“Dad, Can I Help?”
By Bill Kirk
The long weekend beckoned--
I’d written my list.
And I was quite sure
There was nothing I’d missed.
No yard work distractions,
No carpools to do.
The weekend was mine
Until I was through.
I had all my hardware
And lumber galore.
I’d work on the deck;
Replace an old door.
I set up my saw
And tested my drill.
With anticipation
I felt quite a thrill.
“No holding me back,”
I thought, a bit smug.
Then all of a sudden,
I felt a slight tug.
Stopping my work,
I turned with a glance
To see my small son
Grab the leg of my pants.
What could I do?
Did I have any choice,
When my little son asked
In his little boy voice?
“Dad, can I help?
I just need some glue
And maybe a nail,
Some wood and a screw.”
“I’ll be very careful
And do what you say.
I promise, I’ll try
To stay out of your way.”
I felt the deck slipping
Right out of my grasp.
The door would remain
On its very last gasp.
We built a small boat
With a deck and a sail
Out of two bits of wood,
Some string and a nail;
Then battled some pirates
And found chests of gold.
With each new adventure
A story was told.
We sawed and we hammered
Until we were done
With all of our work—
Like father, like son.
I never did finish
My list on that day,
Instead I spent time
With my son, just to play.
And those weekend projects?
They just had to wait.
For some life appointments,
A Dad can’t be late.
At the risk of giving someone an audience they don't deserve, I feel compelled to comment about the latest wolf in sheep's clothing: A clever money-maker (if only because some will actually think it's funny enough to buy) which may end up creating a whole new genre of adult bedtime picture books.
Now before you get your panties in a wad, arguing that adult bedtime picture books have already been done, I'm not talking about the kind of books with pictures that adults may use at bedtime from time to time. Yes, you are right. Those "self-help" books have been out since shortly after Guttenburg figured out how to mass produce the printed page.
But no. This latest creation is what otherwise would appear to be a children's picture book both on its cover and inside. But that's where the resemblance ends. Instead the book purports to be written for new parents to somehow help them deal with the frustrations of being a parent trying to get their new baby or toddler to sleep. What new parent couldn't identify with that?
No doubt the book will get a few chuckles. Likewise, I have little doubt it will sell, although probably not nearly so well were it not formatted as a children's picture book---kind of a formatting double entendre, if you will. And apparently many of you out there indeed will.
After all, the colorful children's illustrations are simple yet engaging. And what new parent could resist a bedtime story to help lull their little kiddo to sleep? But forgive my lack of excitement. To the author---and to Nightline for running the feature---I say GMAB! (which is now far and away my new favorite texting abbreviation).
For those of you scratching your heads wondering "What the... is he talking about?" I can say that sadly you won't have any trouble searching for or finding the hot new release online. This book has done what most authors can only dream about. It has "gone viral" with so much free promotion (including, I suppose, this blog post) that the author may be able to retire in before Labor Day. After all, it's a #1 best seller on Amazon---maybe even in a couple different categories.
And who knows? It may spawn any number of other books covering such parental challenges as long road trips ("Shut The F--- Up, We're Not There Yet!"), potty training ("Sit The F--- Down And Poop!"), arguing in the car with sibblings ("Don't Make Me Pull The F--- Over!"), food consumption ("Eat Your F---ing Vegetables!") and dinner time accidents ("What The F---? Did You Just Spill Your Milk?").
OK. So, perhaps I'm being unfair. After all, I'm still quivering after last month's sale of four copies of my books online. I suddenly found myself propelled up to a sub-500,000 sales ranking in children's books on Amazon. I gotta admit, having only half a million books ahead of mine in the rankings is pretty heady stuff.
Just think what might have happened if I had added an "F-bomb" (or its abbreviation) to a few of my published titles. The Nightline producers would probably have me on speed dial!
Here's a short rhyme, slightly revised since its original appearance during the Poem A Day Challenge in April. It seemed like a good message going into summer.
After spending the winter and what seems to have been a non-existent spring puting things off until we have more time, more energy, more money or more motivation, now is the time to simply take that first action step, then another and another and....
Don’t Say Don’t. Say Do!
By Bill Kirk
Just thinking DON'T is such a drag-
It's nothing but a frowner.
For DON'Ts won't end up in a smile
Because a DON'T's a downer.
It doesn't matter if a DON'T
Is practiced past or present,
For whether spoken then or now,
A DON'T is never pleasant.
Besides a DON'T from yesterday
Won't generate much action.
An old DON'T's just a DIDN'T that
AIN'T got no satisfaction.
If saying DON'T on down the road
Is what you are intending,
That future DON'T becomes a WON'T-
A DON'T that's merely trending.
And if you might not do a thing,
A "might" makes WON'T a "WOULDN'T."
To be polite about your WON'T,
You must say, "I just COULDN'T!"
Yes, DON'Ts abound in all their forms,
From SHOULDN'T, MUSTN'T, SHAN'T.
And if we listened to them all,
We might just think, "I CAN'T!"
So, when you're asked to give advice,
Think what you'd like to hear.
If you were in another's shoes.
What word would you hold dear?
Just one small word will say it all.
Two letters and you're through!
You WON'T get far with Mister DON'T.
So, DON'T say "DON'T." Say "DO".
It's been said by some that a writer should write about what he or she is familiar with. For I suppose there's nothing quite like life experience as a rich resource for the tales we tell. The life experiences each of us has, add depth to a story. And it is the unique interpretation of those experiences that make those stories our own, told like no one else would or even could.
Each of us captures the world around us through our own particular set of sensory stimuli. And even when faced with the same view of the world before us, we may process the information differently and act on it differently still. Will the fact that I am color blind mean I will miss some things or see them in a different way than others? Do I have a high pain threshhold, making me indifferent to those more sensitive? Was I an only child? The oldest, youngest or somewhere in the middle?
Have I broken an arm or leg, had surgery, been lost? And what if I haven't yet or maybe never will? Have I ever been truly hungry or felt fatigue or cold down to the bone? Have I ever wanted to kill---or had to? Have I had a story to share and should have but didn't?
"Who knows?" you ask. "Perhaps there won't be anyone interested." But if the stories aren't told, we'll never know who might have learned from them or simply loved the listening. So, tell your stories. Write them down or simply pass them on as folk tales or oral history to be recounted again and again. For one day, without our knowing when, the time will pass and the untold stories will fade from memory.
It is the charge of writers and tellers of tales to not let that happen.
April 25—Write a falling poem. This could be about the physical act of falling (like someone tying your shoelaces together), or it could be symbolic falling (such as falling in love).
Falling
By Bill Kirk
When
I was
A kid,
I used
To dream
About falling.
The scene had a
Very geometric quality to it—
Dark, with just enough light
To discern a series of
Circular holes appearing
In rapid succession
On the ground in front of me.
There I was,
Running and jumping
From one spot to another
To avoid falling
Into the holes—
Almost as if
Some kind of
Giant cookie-cutter
Was imprinting holes
As fast as
I could jump
Ahead of them,
Anticipating
The next safe spot.
Breathing between jumps,
I watched as the hole maker
Left just enough
curved and roughly
Diamond-shaped
Space in between circles
For my feet to safely land.
Imagine, if you will, Jimmy Durante
Signing off his show.
Remember how he would
Stand beneath the street light
To bid his audience farewell—
All black and white, of course,
As he walked away after saying,
“Goodnight, Mrs. Mcgillocuttie.”
I can’t be sure if it were true.
But in my mind’s eye,
A trail of street lights would
Appear at his feet as he
Walked away into the darkness.
And I carried those early
Black and white TV images with me;
My dreams imbued with
A perpetual falling theme.
Yet somehow,
I always
Managed
To avoid
The holes,
Landing
Safely on
Solid
Ground.
Is
That
Weird?
Indeed.
April 26—Today is the final "Two for Tuesday" prompt(s) of the month:
1. Write a leader poem.
2. Write a follower poem.
I'll leave it up to you to decide what a leader or follower poem might be. You can either lead the way in figuring that out, or follow the lead of another.
Writers As Leaders
By Bill Kirk
Any writer
Must a leader be,
Wouldn’t you say?
For doesn’t the
Writing of a thing
Tend to push it along
To its conclusion,
Either natural or forced?
From its start,
Through its middle
And right on to
Its very end,
Whether
A story or
A treatise or
A search for meaning,
The writer leads
The way with words
As the tools of his trade.
That’s not to say
Some things may
Never quite seem
To reach
Their end.
But given
Enough time,
Enough study,
Enough reflection;
An end should certainly
Begin to take form.
Stated simply, then,
The writer’s job
Is to stretch
The idea,
The thought
The concept,
The story,
Until it is within reach,
Then pull it all
Fully into the
Imaginative grasp
Of the reader.
April 27—For today's prompt, take the phrase "In the (blank) of (blank)," replace the blanks with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write your poem.
In The Blink Of An Eye
By Bill Kirk
It was just a downward glance
At the phone in my lap—
The insistent ring tone
Made me do it.
Who’s calling, anyway?
It took me a second,
As I tried to focus.
The abbreviated message
Trailed across the
Small LED-lit screen.
Quick glance up ahead—
OK. 100 feet. I’m good.
Damn! The light went off.
Where’s that reply button?
There, I can see it now—tap, tap, tap….
“hey wzup, dude. this trfik is kiln m….”
It was just a split second, really.
In the blink of an eye,
I was dead.
By:
Bill Kirk,
on 5/8/2011
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Slowly catching up. Posted below are my five daily poems from April 20 through April 24. I'm already imagining the editing process on these poems. But for the time being, they will have to do. Consider them simply ideas captured---place holders awaiting final revision. Sometimes that's as good as it gets.
April 20—Write a message in a bottle poem. Imagine your poem is being rolled up and put in a bottle for someone to find and read.
To Whom It May Concern
By Bill Kirk
Hello out there—anyone.
This is my last recently emptied bottle.
I’ve been here a while—waiting.
The days I’ve counted number 173.
But I can’t be certain
I haven’t missed one or two.
Please hurry—well, at least
Get here as soon as you can.
I used to think everyone
Ought to have a chance
To be alone—solitary.
You know, to spend some quality time
Getting in touch with one’s self.
Been there. Done that.
No—Am here. Doing that.
Guess I can take that
Off my bucket list, right ahead of
“GET RESCUED.”
Please hurry—well, at least
Get here as soon as you can.
April 21—Write a second thoughts poem. You could have second thoughts about something you’ve done or thought in the past. You could write something about someone (or something else) having second thoughts. Or you could even take a poem you wrote earlier in the month and flip it in a new direction.
On Second Thought
By Bill Kirk
Second thoughts have pros and cons;
They have their goods and bads.
A second thought can save the day
Or turn your glads to sads.
Second thoughts for some are weak.
They say we hesitate—
As if allowing time to think
Suggests we’ll be too late.
Others say the best approach
Is leaving ample space,
For second thoughts to bounce around
And win the thinking race.
Just remember, if in doubt,
It’s wise to heed the id.
Its best advice? “On second thought,
Let’s not and say we did!”
April 22—Today is Good Friday and Earth Day. Write an “only one in the world” poem. This only one in the world might be a person, an animal, a place or an object. Think of someone or something else and write.
Earth As An “Only One”
By Bill Kirk
Granted, what I know
Has its limitations.
But wouldn’t you have to agree,
Earth in its unitary form is, indeed,
The only one of its kind in the world,
And that earth and the conditions
That make it possible,
Are universally singular?
In fact, how can it be any other way?
For nothing can be exactly
And precisely duplicated,
On earth or elsewhere.
So, everything
On the earth,
In the earth,
Of the earth and
Beyond the earth is
Totally,
Inexorably,
Unquestionably
Unique.
The End.
April 23—Write a quit doing what you’re doing poem. This could be about something you need to quit doing or that someone or something should quit doing.
Ode To Inertia
By Bill Kirk
Inertia is a funny thing,
Whether a body’s
At rest or in motion.
If inertia comes into play,
By its very nature,
It always involves
The quitting of some particular thing.
For example, overcoming
The inertia of running
Means you will slow down
And maybe stop.
Taking a nap? Time to
Wake up and move,
And so forth and so on….
Figurative inertia gets even better.
Movement, or lack of movement, notwithstanding,
That meal you are eating or
That game you are playing or
That dissertation you are writing or
That job you would just as soon not be doing
Will hopefully, eventually, end�
In Honor of National Bar-B-Que Month, here is a smalln offering for anyone who has had the misfortune of losing a hotdog to a roving rover on four legs. Hotdogs right off the grill are just so tempting to man or beast.
What Happened To My Hotdog?
By Bill Kirk
(Published in Wee Ones magazine in July/August 2005)
What happened to my hotdog?
Dad cooked it just for me.
And while it popped and sizzled,
I waited patiently.
When it was done, I fixed it,
So it would taste just right.
I set it on the table,
But now it’s out of sight.
I’m looking for my hotdog,
All plump inside its bun.
With ketchup and some mustard,
It glistened in the sun.
So, where’s my missing hotdog?
It’s nowhere to be found.
Is that a splat of ketchup,
I see there on the ground?
Now, something looks suspicious--
I think I see a trail.
Oh no! There goes my doggie.
He’s wagging his short tail.
“Hey, doggie, is that ketchup
And mustard on your nose?
I wonder how it got there--
By hotdog, you suppose?”
What happened to my hotdog?
I guess we know by now.
My doggie found my hotdog.
And made it doggie chow.
April 12—And just like that, we're already on to our second "Two for Tuesday" prompt of the challenge. I know this is a prompt that some poets have been craving, while others probably not so much. Regardless, I did this one on Tuesday to provide some options:
1. Write a form poem. This could be a sonnet, pantoum, lune, or even something as sinister as a--dare I say it--sestina. If you need a list of poetic forms and there rules, click here.
2. Write an anti-form poem. Just as there are poets who love playing with forms, there are poets who think they are the worst thing ever. That's fine. Express (in either free verse or a prose poem) your feelings on writing in traditional forms.
On Formlessness
By Bill Kirk
Could it be some days the poetry
Will be less well formed than others?
I’d have to say, it’s true.
Tonight, my brain itself is a formless blob.
Thus any attempt at poetic form
Will likely have scant chance at success.
Yet, I suppose the very capture of
Any thought or idea takes on
A certain structure, even if drawn
From wordless mush—much as
An artist’s blank canvass will
Eventually move toward an
Expression of artistic form,
Even if very sketchy.
Far be it for me to
Squeeze, mold or force
These words into a shape
They have no interest in taking.
Perhaps words on a page
Will somehow find their natural form
Much as water seeks its own level.
Might formelessness be its own reward?
April 10—For today's prompt, write a never again poem. Maybe you'll never again fall in love or never again tell a lie. Or maybe, just maybe, you'll never again not write a sestina.(Like that? It's a double negative.)
N’er again will yester be—
That time is now behind us.
Yet, perhaps in memory,
Its ghost may come and find us.
Will it ask us once again
Those questions long avoided—
Scraping wounds until our pain
Has fully been exploited?
Or will it probe a different trace,
Like, would our path be altered?
Had we run a different race,
Would we have won or faltered?
Truth be told, as life unfolds,
No matter how we’ve striven
Faith must shape what each life holds,
For we just get what’s given.
By:
Bill Kirk,
on 4/8/2011
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April 8—For today's prompt, write a ready to celebrate poem. You could chronicle the actual celebration or even write about the anticipation of one.
Are You Ready To Ce-le-brate?
By Bill Kirk
Some might say a cause for celebration
Hardly comes along every day.
Yet maybe that’s cause enough to be ready,
Wouldn’t you say—to giggle, smile, shout, congratulate?
After all, there’s always plenty
To bemoan our pitiful circumstances
And ample reason to groan and complain,
Wondering why this or that hard knock happened.
But then, along comes some happy time
Or its memory or the anniversary of one,
That curls up the mouth corners, even if only slightly.
So, shouldn’t we be ready for those happy-nings,
Whether anticipated or unexpected?
You know, just in case?
Oh, sure. We could also be ready
To sink into the depths of depression.
After all, deference to the sensibilities
Of those who suffer loss is at times
The only right thing to do.
Yet even in the midst of inconsolable sadness,
The spark of joy and gladness awaits its turn
To give another day of life its due,
In anticipation of yet a better one.
“This is the day the Lord has made;
Let us rejoice and be glad in it.” (Psalm 118:24)
April 7—For today's prompt, write a "what if" poem. It could be a "what if" from the past, present or future.
What If?
By Bill Kirk
To ask “What if?” implies
A certain choice, does it not?
Do we dwell on past events,
Wondering what might have happened “if”?
Or is time better spent turning our “what ifs”
Toward the future where hope still resides?
For what are the chances
Of predicting a different outcome,
Had we chosen a different path?
What if we had been given different gifts?
Would any one thing done differently,
Have made all the rest the best?
Or would results have been unkinder yet?
How could we possibly know for sure?
And what of decisions made today?
Are our predictive powers any better?
Or might applying lessons learned from past mistakes
Simply make us better guessers?
And what of the cards we’re dealt?
Life context provides a rich field of “what ifs” to harvest—
Divergent pathways in the woods, awaiting our next steps.
For me, color blindness may have been my salvation.
If I were to discern a different color palette,
What are the chances I would be writing this poem—
Or celebrating my wife’s birthday today?
What will you do with your set of unique circumstances?
Will you follow a lemonade dream?
Or do you relish your lemon drizzled over grilled salmon?
Same juice, different use.
What’s in your bracket?
And how will you give voice to your choice?
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Those are some good thoughts, Bill! It is often after the fact that we realize the value of our experiences. I think you're right that they become more meaningful as we age, and they add wisdom and completeness to our lives. I just want to appreciate those experiences before they fade from my increasingly faulty memory!