The Game of Life

The following poem was written by my colleague and good friend...

The Game of Life
By John Baker

I am a race car driver.
I’m a dead beat dad.
I’m a defense attorney.
I’m a Wall Street cad.
I’m the produce manager at the IGA.
I get intelligence for the CIA.
I spend other peoples’ money.
I’m a lobbyist.
I sell real estate in Phoenix.
I’m a five-finger discount hobbyist.
I’d like to introduce you to my best friend Ben,
Or my other green-back buddy, Mr. Jefferson.
I’m a politician, since the day I was born.
I make homemade movies, some call porn.
I am the fabric of American society.
I am the dirt, the grit, the guts,
The pale underbelly.

I’m the bane of your existence—
You and your wife!
Without me you’d have to go out
And get yourselves a life.
You better not deny it, you’d be me too
If you weren’t afraid of criticizing
The red, white and blue.
You might as well admit it,
We’re one in the same.
As long as you sit there watchin’
While I play the game.

I’m an orchestra director.
I work at the mint.
I teach social studies.
I can’t seem to quit
Smokin these cigarettes,
And drinkin’ the shit—
Diet Coke, Frappacino, Rock Star and beer—
They say it’ll kill you,
But that’d mean I wouldn’t be here…
So, see you later, so long, what’s-your-name.
Go sell yourself for a dime,
and I’ll do the same.
I’m a software designer.
I roll pretzels in the mall.
I speak Spanish with my amigas,
while I vacuum your hall.
I’m a construction worker
I run a warehouse fork lift
And in the summers I’m a fisherman, if you catch my drift.

Brenda's CD

My sister Brenda released a CD in 2006. Our sister Kelli has recently scripted this eloquent CD release statement...

In quiet of the early morning, before the birds begin their song, she listens. In this still silence, stories reveal themselves in a flowing rhythm and unforced rhyme. These are stories that deliver the emotions of a special place, blooming awareness, private heartbreak, aching tragedy, beckoning hope, soulful yearning and sweet belonging. In her debut CD, Who's Foolin' Who, Brenda Hanson couples these stories with fresh melodies that flow as naturally as the stories came to her and we are treated with 17 tracks that give us a unique experience. While staying close to her bluegrass and country roots, Brenda allows each song to tell its own tales, and each making. Like the birds, Who's Foolin' Who breaks out in song with calls and answers creating an inviting blend that makes you glad to be awake. In the end, that quiet stillness is but a dream and the new day longs for its song to be sung. Like the birdsong, her singing is unstoppable and breaks through the darkness and quiet with an urgency to be a part of the becoming day. Her song expresses itself accordingly. The result is a unique blend of vocals and even some "out of the box" instrumentation. She dazzles us with her true voice, her own guitar and banjo talent, a brilliant cast of musicians, and welcomes her cherished family to share in the singing and music song is precise, simple, complex, mysterious, and we are gifted with an experience as old as time and as new as the dawn.

While searching for information about the origins of the Easter Bunny I came across "Breakfast with Pandora," a blog written by an Episcopalian Christian Humanist, who is also a mythologist and educator. He had just what I needed. One of his blogs a few days later led to Hugo Schwyzer, "...eponymous blog of a community college history and gender studies professor..." If you love to languish in well-crafted, provocative writing, then both blogs are worth your perusal.

Last week I was busy with WASL testing and a chickenpox-ridden teenager. But I did manage to work in some bluegrass jamming at the local tree sale and conservation fair on Saturday. More WASL testing this week and probably an unannounced observation by the principal.

Oh! Big decision last week--I'm going after my national certification for teaching... probably in Social Studies-History for early adolescence.

First Day

What do hick chicks muse about?

Hick chicks muse about family and home, about what matters and what doesn't. Being with friends matters. For example, last night I went to see Oklahoma with my mom and some other lady friends from the small school where we work. First we dined at Cafe Al Mundo and conversed with a lusty gusto to match our meal--bold and spicy comments about life, laminators, and love. Then on to the play where love is what mattered to Curly and Laurie. And Will and Ado Annie. And the Persian Peddler. And Jud. And love mattered to Aunt Eller.

In fact the quest for love seems to drive most human strivings. I saw it in Oklahoma last night--Curly chasing Laurie. Will chasing Ado Annie. Ado Annie chasing everything, just like some of the young bodies in my junior high classroom. They think they're chasing love, but as I blog away on this first day, I suspect that all those hormones chasing hormones are more about power than love. Honestly, most of the time it seems like love is about making someone "yours" or making "your someone" do just what you want.

Whoa. Now didn't this just take a cynical turn? It's only the first day for this blog, but instead of Hick Chick Musings, maybe the title oughta be Hick Chick Cynic. Or maybe that oughta be my byline or logo. Huh. I'll have to muse on that.