Doctor Zhivago..years later!

The question was..What is your favorite book & why? Okay, two questions..then the group was given..perhaps ten minutes to write. Write all about it.
From deep within, this exercise illicited the following:

Pasternak's 'Doctor Zhivago' has been an important book in my literary life. ( I read it on the recommendation of my mother, one summer in the sixties). The main character's conflict with living his life and writing poetry against the backdrop of major political changes in Russian remains an exceptional reading experience & one which I still empathize and identify with.

Dr. Zhivago had a talent; writing poetry, however, he was also a medical doctor. His angst with his creativity and training in a profession, trying to chose and trying to do both well...is amazing to me. I was so atuned to his perspective in this novel...I felt that I was him & didn't want the book to end.

I have always enjoyed Russian literature; the emeshing of philosophy, spiritual & political movements with the individual choices of men. Zhivago is a Russian derivative of 'life' & as in the movie 'Z' the energy, passion & pathos of humanity..moves the spirit.

(to be continued)

Words of Thanks

'Each new morning with its light,
for rest & shelter of the night,
for health & food,
for love & friends,
for everything thy goodness sends.'

Ralph Waldo Emerson
Thanksgiving 2007 - Family Prayer

Favorites..Not An Easy Task

Blue skies, Blue waves, white sand, writing, moving forward, reading, strawberries, blueberries, strong coffee, smiling eyes, big smiles, yellow labs with sloppy everything & wagging tails, a quick step, a tall guy, a passionate kiss.

Dreaming..

that I am rushing to somewhere, with a canvas bag full of books, a handbag full of stuff...too many handles & straps, & fast walk, gait almost a run. How am I doing so far? Am I rushing to somewhere important? The term is just a rush, of classes, different campuses, students eager to please, to write. But for now, I am walking fast in a crowd; some sitting on the edges & some standing..talking; few walking, perhaps a few walking. I am trying to squeeze through a space of the walkers & one's sitting on high, wooden stools.

The handbag strap caught on someone; being pulled back sharply & trying to dis-engage. The person has a goatee, some grey & white & black mixed in..thinning hair, relaxing posture; repose, really. He's smiling but not a lot. He's caught with the strap, or is it that I'm caught by him being attached to it. Not sure, but now I am unable to walk my fast walk, and move myself to wherever I am going. I have to stop, am I stopping or am I just in a limbo that only happens in dreams. Then again, the term has been on such a fast pace, I'm still not sure if I'm asleep..dreaming or awake...in a haze.

He seems amused and takes the strap away from his body to hand back to me. I like his relaxed aura and his amusement; but feel obligated to move on, to continue the fast pace and the frenetic movement of an energy that I'm not quite feeling. This frame freeze vanishes, and I'm on an escalator; yes, still bogged down with stuff and bags & books and too much weight. Weighted down and weightier than I've ever been, how is this happening; when did it happen. The escalator takes forever, I do have somewhere to be, somewhere where I'm expected. Expected to talk, to share, to entertain the students, the administration, the Department.

And my desires, my aspirations ..long forgotten. How do I return to the man with the goatee, on the wooden stool smiling with a healthy sense of self. How do I become more like him?

Moving off of the escalator, now in full head-to-toe sheer turquiose, light and billowy material; dressed in veils and golden coins and chains and movement is now with joy.

Dancing, moving, music, sheer-ness...not weighted. Hips gyrating and light, lightness...scent of the exotic..dancing. The man with the goatee, standing tall, watching and smiling as I dance. Oh, joy!

Juicy...

yeah, gossip..talking the talk & relishing the fun facts about faculty & maybe about administrators. No harm done, no foul. Just a little talking about things.

Being in a funk; feeling blue...how can that be more than a whisp of a breeze..as now we talk & have a chuckle. Fun being old enough to know better & still able to share a tidbit of easy gossip.

Quiet Time...

& being still. My son has a moment to talk with me, as we drive to Brighton. I am there to support him. I am with him to be the parent that I always knew that I would be...non-judgemental, approachable...& kind. I hope he sees me this way.

So, here we are ..and later,
Yes, later I take him to one of my favorite haunts...the Burger Joint in Harvard Square, where the din & the noise-level give an illusion of being in the 'thick of it'. Are we?

It's enjoyable, it's fun.
Walking in the Square, talking & walking...easy.

A Thought on a Humid Day!

A Thought on a Humid Day!

The phone was ringing..too late at night to be social. My son’s voice on the other end, ‘hey, Mom!’.

‘What’s wrong, honey!’

‘Nothing. Just wanted you to know that I invited the Soccer team over for a Pasta Dinner on Friday! Everyone’s psyched.’

‘Okay. So, how many athletes coming along?’

‘Well, including the coaches, about thirty guys. And, I told them about your home-made speghetti sauce & meatballs, so you can’t buy them.’ ‘Okay!’

‘My pleasure…not a problem. See you on Wednesday at the game, & pasta & home-made everything on Friday.’

So, teaching a million classes at three colleges & preparing the meal for the soccer team. Wow!

The athletes came & went….in a matter of an hour or so…wow! Nice boys, nice & polite..hugs all around & thanks all around. What a pleasure.

My son is a joy! How fun is all of this….very fun. A Blast!