Professor J's Place

My darling friend Bluebird at Bluebird Blvd. was writing about poetry recently. It's something she often does, bless her heart. It got me thinking, as her posts are wont to do, and I wrote to her about the first poem I memorized. We decided it would be fun for both of us to write about the poems of our childhoods, so that's what we're doing today!   This is the book I grew up with. First published in 1959, The Golden Treasury of Poetry was compiled for an audience of children, but not once did it talk down to its audience. With delightful illustrations by Joan Walsh Anglund and poems that ranged from the ridiculous to the sublime, this book was my introduction to the joy and music in language. When I teach poetry, which I seldom do, I talk about how we are hard wired for poetry. What do children like to read and have read to them? Poetry! It's the heart beat, I think. The rhythm in our blood.   I, like most children was first attracted to poems that rhyme....

We celebrate this lovely day with one of the first poems I ever memorized. Mama and I always quoted it to our fireside-sleek dogs. Lone Dog Irene Rutherford McLeod I'm a lean dog, a keen dog, a wild dog and lone; I'm a rough dog, a tough dog, hunting on my own; I'm a bad dog, a mad dog, teasing silly sheep; I love to sit and bay the moon, to keep fat souls from sleep. I'll never be a lap dog, licking dirty feet, A sleek dog, a meek dog, cringing for my meat, Not for me the fireside, the well-filled plate, But shut door, and sharp stone, and cuff and kick, and hate. Not for me the other dogs, running by my side, Some have run a short while, but none of them would bide. Oh mine is still the lone trail, the hard trail, the best, Wide wind, and wild stars, and hunger of the quest!

Today is the day we celebrate Bess the wonder dog's first birthday. Here she is with her penguin. Tonight we will watch The First Wives Club and eat brownies with cream cheese. Well, Bess, Dinah, and Alice will have Beggin' Strips; Wren and I will have brownies.

Bess has been having the time of her life lately. Tanith and Wren have been visiting, and, while she loves them both, Tanith is Bess' BFF. Indeed, I am going to have to double check to make sure Bess is in the yard when Tanith drives off for Big Bend and points beyond. I wouldn't put it past either one of them to pull a fast one on me.

Years ago, when I worked at a long term care facility for the mentally ill, I had a patient who had severe bipolar disorder. Lorraine was sometimes severely depressed--sitting in a dark room peeling the paint off the wall--sometimes violently paranoid--restrained in a chair or a bed with locked leather restraints--and sometimes thoroughly delightful. I loved Lorraine. There was a time in Lorraine's cycle when she was just entering mania, when she was funny and sweet and sharp. I would get off the elevator at 11pm, and Lorraine would be sitting in the nurses station with her nightgown hitched up like a short skirt, her long legs crossed at the knee, and a cigarette dangling from her fingers like a wild, liquored up Lauren Bacall. "There she is!" She'd shout, "My little girl! My little darling!" And then an aside in a lower voice, "She's queer for dogs, you know." I am, you know. I know it seems silly to non-dog lovers, but dogs fill a primal ...

Dinah and Bess playing dinosaur (a favorite game).

One of the benefits of having a puppy is watching how my old dogs respond. Dinah, the 106 pound, ten year-old labrador retriever has been frightened. She runs out of the room when Bess shows any interest in her. Alice, the eleven year-old hound dog has not been frightened, but she is often crabby and disinterested. But yesterday, Bess gave the girls a lesson in playing. They actually romped around the yard a little bit. It is a true joy to watch the old gals re-learning how to stick their butts up in the air and paw the puppy with glee. I may post a video as soon as I get my camera back.

This Thursday I received a lovely note from my friend, BipolarLawyerCook , who wished me a good Thanksgiving, no matter what substances I had to take in order to get through it. Well, this has been a rough month. I've had stomach and other related illnesses, I've had to change my antidepressant because it wasn't working anymore, and, of course, I ended my relationship and moved back to my old house--largely by myself. So, when I think about self medicating, I'm serious. On Wednesday, I decided it was either heroin or this: This is Bess. Bess is four months old and almost 14 pounds. The folks at the humane society thought she was a 10 week old Lab, but she is not. She has tiny ears, a short nose, and a tail that curls up. She is also quite small. I am not at all sure what she is, except darling. Any thoughts?

I stole this from Gina at Ginaagain. What kind of dog are you? I'm a Labrador Retriever! Just a bit of trivia. In my profile on Match dot com, I said that I was a Labrador Retriever with a good vocabulary. I guess I'm not the only one who thinks so.

This is my friend Patty's dog. See? Doesn't the camera take a nice little video? And Doesn't the professor have a lovely voice? And this is why I get happy when I'm walking.

Laura was hoping I had posted The Puppy Song. Well, this isn't it, but I do love it.

Portraits are to daily faces As an evening west To a fine, pedantic sunshine In a satin vest.

The lovely Anne, over at Almost Quintessence has asked a question about the pups. And since she doesn't have an email address listed on her profile (What's up with that, Anne?), I'll just inflict share my answer with all of my sweet readers. The beautiful dog pictured above is Alice. She is a Walker Coon Hound , or a Walker Fox Hound, or simply a Walker Hound. She does, indeed look like a beagle--on stilts. She bays like a beagle, too. She is a sweet, gentle girl, unless you happen to be a cat or a raccoon. Alice adopted me. Several years ago on a Thanksgiving afternoon, my mother and I took our dogs to a park on the south side of San Antonio. It is a great park with a big field where we would let the girls run while Mom and I walked the path surrounding it. Because the park is in an area just south of town and the neighborhood is wooded, there are several stray dogs running about. On our way back to the car, we saw this lovely animal standing in the middle of the road. Ma...

Mary Alice over at From the Fronlines has given me this award for my post " Mothers and Daughters ." Thanks, Mary Alice! And, as always, I'd like to thank the little people

Luath He was a gash an' faithful tyke As ever lap a sheugh or dyke. His honest, sonsie, bawns'nt face Ay gat him friends in ilka place; His breast was white, his tousie back Weel clad wi' coat o' glossy black; His gawsie tail, wi' upward curl. Hung owre his hurdles wi' a swirl. gash : wise lap a sheugh : leap a ditch sonsie, baws'nt : sweet face with a white stripe tousie : rumpled gawsie : handsome hurdies : hips

I am sitting here while my Composition I students struggle over an in class essay on the wonderful " Everyday Use ," by the glorious Alice Walker . They are having such a hard time. I know they will do their best. I know they will come to an understanding of the different values of the sisters. I know they will love Maggie and her mother. I have yet to have a student really identify with Dee. This surprises me, because I did. I don't mean that I totally disrespected my mother and my sister(s), although the sisters might tell a different tale, but there were times when we spoke a different language. There were also times when I was so full of myself and my grand ideas--so full of my feminist struggle--that I did not give credit to the woman who raised three girls by herself--to the women my sisters had become. I certainly gave them lip service, just as Dee has appreciation for the "folk art" her grandmother had quilted. But I neglected to accept what they we...

My friend Mark threw a party Friday night--it was great fun. Here are Mark and his lovely bride, Leigh. Susan and I were the old women of the group--everyone else was in their twenties and thirties. Susan remembers one of the guests actually gasped when she mentioned she has a twenty-five year-old daughter. We dressed like aging hippies. The costumes may be a little brighter than our daily attire, but the label is fitting . . . Susan wishes I were taller. She says that our pictures always look like she is saying, "And here is my little friend, Karen." I won't wear heels, but maybe next time I'll bring a little platform to stand on. There were many fun costumes and interesting people. There was a capitalist pig--in a black suit with a Starbucks cup, a brief case, and a pink nose and ears--and a woman with babies of many nations pinned to her outfit (Angelina Jolie). But, of course, my favorite people at the party didn't have much to say.

Okay, I know I said I'd refrain from dogs in clothing, but this is my sweet dog Dinah when she was a puppy. This year Dinah is quite a bit older and a little wider. She has finally become a really fine companion-- no more of the crazy lab puppy-ness. Of course, she is eight, so I guess it is about time. Here is a picture of her late older sister, the great "Saint" Ursula, whom I miss on a regular basis.