Professor J's Place

I have a wisdom tooth inside my crowded face I have a friend who is a born-again Found his savior's grace I was born before my father And my children before me We are born and born again Like waves of the sea That's the way it's always been That's how I want it to be  Paul Simon I have always loved this song--it's one of my favorites. It combines my love of the romantic era and the concept of the wisdom of children that is lost with age, "I was born before my father and my children before me," with the truth of my own experience, "We are born and born again." This morning--this all souls day--I am hearing this song again.  This morning I clicked on one of those silly Facebook things. It looks at your profile pics over the last few years and picks the most representative profile pictures to show your change over the years. The picture for 2014 was one of my favorite baby pictures. I jokingly said to my friends, what...

Last month, my dear friend Bluebird  asked me to read some of my poetry on an evening celebrating national poetry month. I was glad that I could say I was just too sick to participate. That should have been a red flag for me. Then, my sweet friend scoured the web to find my poetry. Last night, she asked me where I keep my poetry. And I told her the truth. I have no idea where the bulk of my poetry is. I knew I had kept folders in my computers over the years, and I knew I had several printed out. But I didn't know where any of it was. Why? I'm afraid of it. I'm ashamed of it. This morning, I finally found a few of the poems I had printed out -- ten or twelve of them. Some of them feel unfinished. Some of them are self-indulgent. Some are just no good. But a few of them are good. And I wonder what would have happened if I had continued writing regularly. Oh, I still occasionally sit down to write a poem--when nothing but a poem will do. But I have stifled my voice....

song sparrow This morning, on my way in from the parking lot, I saw a little bird in the distance. As I got closer, I saw it was a song sparrow. I don't have any photos of my own of song sparrows, so I thought I'd link you to this lovely bird lover. Back to my random thoughts. When I realized the bird was a sparrow, I remembered having breakfast at a diner in Iowa. One of the men in at the table asked about the birds in the parking lot. They're just house sparrows, I said. "They're really beautiful," the man replied.  They are. If this tiny little creature weren't omnipresent, it would be a prized citing on any birder's life list. Instead, people shoo them away from bird feeders because they're too common.  And I remembered a poem I used to love when I was a child. Sparrow Stephen Vincent Benét Lord, may I be A sparrow in a tree. No ominous and splendid bird of prey But something that is fearful every day Yet keeps its small flesh full of h...

Friday I was able to go to the opening of Salon International at the Greenhouse Gallery as the guest of my friend Susan Carlin.  If you are in San Antonio, you should go to this show! It is almost 400 paintings--almost all of which are brilliant. Here is Susan with the painting she entered in the show: "Gentleman Traveler. " Anyway, I have spent the past several days  posting a poem a day on Facebook for National Poetry Month. It has been great submerging myself in the word. I've also had the opportunity to work several times at Susan's gallery, to purchase new music (and even to receive some as a gift --thanks Cheri), and to puchase new art (a painting by Bonnie Mann and a cup by Gary Rith ). I love creativity. I love being around artists and supporting their work. And it is important to support art, I think. But Friday night, as I was being introduced to people as, "my friend Karen," I joked with another friend--the lovely artist Patty Cooper -- that...

I stole this idea from the Irish Goddess . She has a couple of wonderful posts about women who have influenced her--you should check it out! Mama tells me that from the age of four until I was six or so, I used to stand on the picnic table in our back yard and enact a specific scene. "Ladies and Gentlemen," I would holler , "MISS JUDY GAARRLANDDD !" I would then applaud wildly while I took my stand in front of the imaginary microphone to sing "Stormy Weather," or "Happiness is Just a Thing Called Joe," or any one of my many other favorite songs. I do remember that my first purchase of a record album was a Judy Garland disk (I still have it), and I was inconsolable when she died. And I can still do a mean "Stormy Weather." Am I saying that Garland was a feminist icon? No, of course not. But Judy Garland was my introduction to a powerful woman who allowed her power to destroy her. It was her passion and her vulnerability that made her a g...