Common Threads

I arrived home today and discovered, there in my mailbox, a postcard from Glenda Funk. She’d recently traveled to Thailand and sent me a card.

“Add Thailand to your bucket list,” she urged. She knows I enjoy visiting new places.

Glenda is my travel guru. If I’m going on a trip, I’m asking Glenda about what to do in that corner of the world. In fact, she’s shared some travel notes with me over the past few weeks. Our plans to go to Glacier National Park will be delayed for a year since one of the main tours is sold out. So instead, we’re planning to drive the eastern half of Route 66 and eat in some retro diners with 5,000 calorie cheeseburgers and 10,000 calorie milkshakes and stay in some iconic motels (yes, the kinds that are dated with actual bedspreads and have doors that open to the outside world and might have a ring in the tub and stain or two on the rug, and pillows that might only have half their stuffing left but it’s okay because we probably won’t get much sleep anyway with that neon sign humming and illuminating the entire room through the thin curtains in the window).

Glenda had a couple of must see suggestions for me. Please share yours, too. I love comparing travel notes – – (would you believe I just discovered that Pandora has a Route 66 station?? )

I was strolling through a small town recently looking for some next-town-over postcards when I saw a display of unusual ones. They weren’t the landmark scenes I expected for the Walking Dead town I was in, but rather obscure shots of views of the town from unexpected angles with different slants of light. One was taken from the ground, looking up from underneath the water tower with a glint of sun’s rays angling down like a stairway to Heaven. Another appeared to be taken from the top of a hedge near a fence by a livestock feeding trough on someone’s backyard farm.

“I just updated those,” I heard a female voice from behind the counter explain.

“You made these?” I asked of the tall woman, about my age, peering up over her marbled reading glasses on a chain.

She nodded. “I did. I try to change them up every few months to show there is more to this town than our visitors realize. I take the shots and send them off for publication through VistaPrint.”

I complimented her photography, thanked her for sharing her ideas, and selected several cards to purchase.

This all got me thinking about the ways we travel and what we see – – and, more important, all that we don’t see. It led to my thinking about the people whose experiences I value so much – travel gurus and writing community members who give me glimpses into the world from angles I would never otherwise see – those places my own feet may never pass. For today, it also led me to a post from a member who says she almost didn’t write this month because of her grief over the loss of a loved one – – but she courageously took a bold step and climbed over her sadness and honest fears to post. I thought of my own mother’s death and how my writing community was my lifesaver. Those days, my friends, are the longest journeys we’ll ever take – – the inward ones. The kinds of journeys for which there are no postcards.

There has never been a more important time to celebrate the love of a writing community than today ~ to ring the bells and blow the airhorns and fire up the music and dance in the streets for all we have in our fellow writers. We share recipes and book reviews. We gather ideas. We explore hobbies. We take vicarious adventures. We encourage each other and offer our shared experiences, sometimes opening up in ways we would never do with our in-person friends and family. We even seek advice and suggestions. We share health concerns, herbal treatments, and children’s milestones. We pen lines of poetry, we relive childhood, we share the most scenic camping spots and the quaintest coffee shops. We reminisce (and even resurrect moments with the dearly departed). We look out windows, watch snow melt and rain fall and sun shine and flowers bloom. We laugh and cry about stuff.

And we step out into the light of day knowing that we are choosing to connect with others as we channel life.

I’m celebrating this community – and you – today. It’s a day to say thank you, two dozen days into the writing challenge.

Throughout the month, I’ve been inviting the participation of others on my blog. Today’s post is by my sister-in-law, Dr. Bethany Johnson, who is also my friend and travel buddy. She shares about her recent trip to Mississippi.

Books, Coffee, Campuses, and Authors

My sister-in-law and I began taking much needed girl trips together after the pandemic. We both felt the need to get out, explore, be immersed in nature, and simply connect and have fun. We have been to beautiful gardens, historic hotels, stayed in outdated but comfy cabins in the mountains. We have walked around beautiful towns shopping, sought out confectionery treats, eaten in cute cafes and, of course, always found a coffee shop.

When deciding how we pick our trips, we look at what we love the most and begin centering ideas for places that satisfy one, if not more, of these criteria. We both say a bookstore is our second home, so it’s always a given that books need to be involved. However, we like to go to unique, privately owned bookstores with personality, so no large chain bookstores for us. We both love coffee, so a coffee shop is a must. She is a writer, so any place that has a connection to an author makes her giddy – and for me, being a professor, I love to walk around college campuses.

Kim and I never return from one of these trips without discussing our next
adventure. One of these discussions led us to a possible trip to Oxford, Mississippi. Why
Oxford? Because all four of our must-haves are in this quaint, beautiful Southern town. It has a campus – Ole Miss. It features two American authors – John Grisham and the late William Faulkner. It has several coffee shops, and it has one of the most unique bookstores in the country … Square Books.

Unfortunately, due to conflicts in our work schedules, we were not able to take that trip together. However, my adventurous sister-in-law, who has taken many solo trips, encouraged me to go by myself when an opportunity to attend a conference in Oxford arose.

So, off I went!

The square in Oxford, alone, is worth the trip. Walking around the square, I found myself slowing down and meandering into the many shops. But I must admit my slowing down wasn’t the first thing I did because I had one destination in mind, the sole goal of the trip (no, the conference wasn’t even the true reason) … Square Books. There are four Square Books stores all within walking distance of each other and each offering something unique. I chose to visit the original and main store. This multi-floored bookstore has everything from rare books to best selling books to books signed by the authors. Each floor offers so many possibilities for a book lover like me. It was only within the aisles of these floors that I finally slowed down while looking at the books, just waiting for that one book to speak to me. I ran my finger along the spines of the books as I took in the smell. I wandered to the rare book section, taking in the history behind them. I stood looking in wonder at how something so small has within its pages something worth so much!

I sat in one of the antique chairs nestled in a corner on the third floor simply listening to the hushed sounds of other people chasing the infinite possibilities within the pages of a book. I smelled the coffee from the small coffee shop and wished it wasn’t raining because I really
wanted to sit on the balcony overlooking the square. That will be my reason for going back.

I lost myself within the first few pages of several potential books trying to decide if I should only buy one. I sat there for a long time finding peace in my heart and letting the rest of the world stay outside of those brick walls.

This bookstore has been written up in many articles nationwide. My favorite article about it is in Southern Living. In this article, it describes Square Books so perfectly: “The little independent bookstore that could has made quite the name for itself, while somehow managing to remain true to its roots.”

So, if you love sweet southern towns and especially love books, I hope you find yourself walking around the streets of Oxford and especially among the floors of Square Books.

Denise Hill of Bay City, Michigan is our host today for the final day of the March Open Write at http://www.ethicalela.com. You can read her full prompt here. Today’s challenge is to twist up an idiom or aspect of figurative language to make it opposite or different in some way, then run with it. Since I brought my new chicks home yesterday from the friend who hatched them and kept them for a few weeks, I chose the idiom Don’t Count Your Chickens Before They Hatch. My chicks hatched on my mother’s birthday, February 19, and I first wrote about them here on March 10.

Welcome, Spring Chickens!

Nine Easter Eggers
I didn’t hatch my chickens
Before they counted

Eleven candled
Only three-quarter dozen
Made it out alive

Today’s host of the March Open Write is Katrina Morrison of Tulsa, Oklahoma, who inspires us to write poems from the shadows – from places of memory or distanced wonder. You can read her full prompt here – and join us, if you’d like. Come and peruse the poems today – there will be some moving poems, I predict. I hope to see you there!

I write from a place of childhood haunting – a movie scene that has branded my heart and left me wondering about the thin veil between strangers and friends.

The Speed of Love



When I was little

There was this movie

A man and his chimp

Were best buds



The man gave the chimp

Treats to coax good behavior



Trust was built 

At the speed of treats

Love at the speed of 

Time together



And so it was



Until the scene 

In the biohazard lab

Where the deadly spores 

   Diffused into the air

Where that door 

Got stuck 

And the double whammy -

      the bomb was ticking



Tick tick tick tick tick



No one could

Break the code

   or the glass



The man on one side 

His best little buddy 

   stuck on the other

The fate of mankind

    Hanging in the breeze



The camera panned 

To the furrowed brow

To the moment of knowing

    the heartsick feeling

      in the man's heart



But he had to do

    What he had to do



The man dangled the treat

    at  the window

Pointed to the problem

directed his best little buddy

to deactivate the bomb



The chimp pushed the button

  Saving mankind

     No more spores spewing

        No more bomb ticking



Returned to the window

  for his treat

     for his good behavior

        for saving mankind



But the chimp’s fate was sealed

  He’d breathed the spores

     Opening the door would only kill more



The camera panned to the 

   Man’s hand holding the treat

     Against the glass

       The chimp’s fingers feverishly

         Trying to grasp it



Trying to grasp the treat

   Trying to grasp the truth

       The question mark on his brow

          The tears in the man’s eyes

              The grief in his heart



thud thud thud thud thud 



And that was where the movie ended

  

But it has never ended

   It still plays on 

      In a quiet chamber

        Of my heart

           

Our host today at http://www.ethicalela.com for the March Open Write, Day 3, is Stefani Boutelier, Associate Professor of Education at Aquinas College in Michigan. She’s using technology tools this week and inviting us to apply some of these ideas in our teaching. Today, she invites us to participate in Flip Poetry. You can read her full prompt here.

I’ll return to the Open Write later to explore more with today’s flip, but to begin this morning with a heart full of gratitude for warmth on this 26-degree morning, I’m writing a springtime palindrome poem in 3-21-23 fashion for today (as the first day of spring) and tomorrow (as a palindrome date). I can use syllables, words, or apply a function of math to each line to write this. I saw gorgeous azaleas at the campground over the weekend and add them to my pile of good things I celebrate today! I’ll experiment with Stef’s flip at lunchtime! 

Springtime 32123 Palindrome Poem

Pink azaleas bloom
Buds burst
Open
Promising
Warmer days
Ahead….welcome springtime! 

For five days each month and every day in April, I write with ethicalela.com in addition to writing with Slice of Life every Tuesday and every day in March. In fact, two years ago I kept on blogging every morning, and the last day of February 2023, I celebrated two full years of daily blogging. I’m also looking for more groups and would LOVE to have a calendar of writing groups so that I am better able to carve the time for more writing. If you have a calendar you’ve created, I’d love for someone to share it.

Today, we are writing Pile of Good Things poems after the mentor text shared by Stefani Boutelier, written by Amy Kay. You can read Stef’s prompt here. She’s an Associate Professor of Education at Aquinas College in Michigan, and she’s certified in all the tech tools of the trade, it seems. I first met Stef when I interviewed her for the Oklahoma State University Oral History Project as many of us shared poetry we’d written during the days of Covid. That project, led by Dr. Sarah Donovan, is available in OSU’s library, and the videos are deeply moving. From that project, our book Bridging the Distance was published, featuring the poems we shared in those interviews.

I didn’t meet Stef in person until November 2022, when we convened in Anaheim for the NCTE Convention and were part of a presentation group together. Everyone pitched in – Glenda wrote our proposal and rallied us to success in getting there, Margaret set up a dinner, Stef organized a time of writing with our group, and everyone worked on some part of making the time together magical, including teaming up to create prompts for the times we host during the coming year – Barb and Glenda did that! I still remember us trying to get the famous green couch moved out of the exhibit hall into a public place so that we could gather around it. While we weren’t able to use the green couch, we sat on the benches and the floor sharing sacred time together. Melanie Meehan from Slice of Life joined many of us. I remember Bryan Ripley Crandall strolling by and joining us for this time that I still consider one of the highlights of the trip – it was warm, intimate, and deeply moving. There were plenty of tears that morning as we were both sad to leave our friends and ready to get back home to our families with long flights or drives in between.

I’m celebrating all the writers in my life today, and the friendships that writing communities create. Whether I’ve met you or not, you may know me better than most of the friends who are part of my daily life. Thank you!

Today at the Open Write, Stef leads us through the process of creating a Pile of Good Things poem and uploading it to Canva to create a colorful graphic form of the poems, ready for sharing. Come write with us at www.ethicalela.com. Here is mine, written from Campsite 108 at F. D. Roosevelt State Park in Georgia:

Today I’m participating in both the Slice of Life Story Challenge and the March Open Write through http://www.ethicalela.com. Our host at the Open Write today is Dr. Stefani Boutelier, whose prompt guides us in using AI to write a poem. One of the things I fear most is the outsourcing of human creativity and intelligence, but Stefani’s fresh and open approach encourages us to learn alongside it and use it in our lives. You can read her full prompt here. I opened Chat GPT and gave the directions: write a poem about nymphs and goblins on a saltmarsh with green glass beads stolen from the moon. I was thinking about my favorite poem I shared yesterday – Overheard on a Saltmarsh by Harold Monro.

Here is the untitled poem “I” wrote today:

On a saltmarsh, where the mist does rise,
Nymphs dance and play under cloudy skies,
With green glass beads stolen from the moon,
They adorn themselves in a radiant boon.

Their laughter echoes through the night,
As they flit and flutter in their flight,
Their wings like gossamer, delicate and light,
Beneath the moon’s gentle, silver light.

But lurking there are goblins sly,
With glowing eyes and teeth awry,
They cackle and jeer at the nymphs’ delight,
And their mischief causes them much fright.

The nymphs know well to avoid their grasp,
For goblins are cunning and quick to clasp,
But sometimes, in their game of chase,
The goblins catch one in their embrace.

Then it’s up to the others to free their friend,
And the chase begins anew, without end,
Until the goblins tire and flee,
Leaving the nymphs to dance and be free.

So on that saltmarsh, where the moon does shine,
Nymphs and goblins play a game divine,
With green glass beads, a treasure stolen,
A tale that shall forever be spoken.

-written by my AI nymph and goblin friends posing as me, Kim Johnson

Yesterday was grooming day for our three boys.

You know those kids you see coming to class and think, “well…..here we go…..they couldn’t be absent just this once?”

Two of these dogs are those kids.

I went to pick them up and got pulled into the dreaded parent-teacher conference with the principal of the facility; one of my incorrigible boys can no longer stay in the same run with the others because he picked a fight that ended up in a kennel brawl. Another one lost all of his facial Schnauzer features – his signature brows and beard – because he had run through the brambles at home and the hair was too tangled to be saved. One came home looking like the Lorax and another like a junkyard dog. The lone angel, of course, looks like a fine specimen of his breed and minds his own business. He’s the best dog we’ve got, I tell my husband, as he covers the ears of the other two.

I can’t take ’em nowhere.

Can't Take 'Em Nowhere 

see these boys right here?
two kennel troublemakers~
can’t take ‘em nowhere!

'cept one's an angel~
"the baby" can do no wrong
minds his own business

they went for groomings-
what a complete disaster!
can’t take ‘em nowhere!

see this one right here?
he ran through the beggar lice,
lost his schnauzer face

had to shave him down
now he looks ridiculous
he don’t care one lick

see this one right here?
he started a kennel brawl
can’t take 'em nowhere

flashed a sharp-fanged tooth
issued aggressive death threats
- - - solitary cell- - - 

see this one right here?
he don’t never cause trouble
this perfect sweet soul

can’t take ‘em nowhere
‘cept home to the Funny Farm
with the rest of us

see these boys right here?
two kennel troublemakers~
can’t take ‘em nowhere!

Yet despite all their shenanigans, they’re our much-loved bad boys.