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2019 1216 aunt diane

Here is a true and recent story about my Aunt, Diane Householder Norrbom.

A couple of weeks ago Diane’s sister, my Mother, Jane Stoneman, had half her power go out in her house when lightning struck quite nearby. Supposedly all fuses and breakers were checked. Two major electrical firms, George Brazil and Parker Brothers, were called for diagnosis and help. The George Brazil estimate came in at $14,000. Parker Brothers wanted $11K. Diane drives over from California. Finds a fuse box no one checked, including the two prestigious firms listed above. Finds replacement fuses in a drawer. Hey, presto–full power.

But it gets worse, then better. Some signs all is not right. Home security batteries need to be replaced, plus at least one surge protector. Diane goes to Home Depot. “Picked up a guy there who said he was an electrician,” says Diane. She took him to Mom’s and he finds that the intermittent-outage problems that are still occurring are due to APS (Arizona Public Service Company, Mom’s power supplier) not doing a good job when they switched Mom to a “smart meter.” They call APS. APS checks, ACKNOWLEDGES FAULT, and makes things right. Mom’s house’s wiring fully restored. Diane spent a LOT less than a grand–maybe between $250 and $500–to completely fix the problem, and update the maintenance on the alarm system’s backup power to boot.

At the same time, she got Mom a new, dependable yard guy, who worked tirelessly to clear tree-debris and get Mom’s yard back on track. She did a boatload of other things too. All in one long weekend.

So this is my salute to her. It’s awfully clumsy. Diane is Beautiful, but my portrait of her is off the mark, because, as always with those I care deeply about, I tried too hard and clenched up. But the respect and love is there.

In the poem, I call her an “Uber-Mama.” That’s not saying she drives an Uber. It’s saying she’s the Mama of all Mamas. Heck, she’s even playing Mama to MY Mama at this point. She has a power of attorney, and thank Heaven she does–enough said about that!

I also compare her to Top Ramen, that favorite of college students, because Dirt Cheap Yet Gets The Job Done. It is extraordinarily difficult to get Diane to agree to be reimbursed for the many things she’s done on Mom’s behalf.

The poem refers to a “passe-partout.” A Passe-Partout is a key that will get you through any door. I have barely scratched the surface of all the doors Diane has opened along her journey. She is an incredible survivor, and beloved by many.

My Amazing and Heroic Aunt Diane

Matriarch and Uber-Mama
Youngster (in your 60s)–you
Are like noodles of Top Ramen
Much like Heaven/passe-partout
And your Deeds are truly Legend
Zapping Evil Right and Left. I
Illustrate your fine Agenda
Nipping-budding Waste & Theft. In
Grace nigh-Wiccan Pitch & Blende

 

It’s been a long time since I posted, and I have many things that I’m working on, but nothing current suitable to publish. But going over REALLY OLD files, back in 2007 when I was doing Journal Pages faithfully every day, with not much regard for calligraphy but some for inked color, and I ran across this fable about a meet-cute with a short guitar-playing guy and a really tall girl…

2007 0922

I remember that I was using the finest-point pen I could find–might have been a Rollerball or a Razor–and a set of Faber-Castell ink markers for the color. I also had a thing about presenting the date a different way every day, sort of like Will Eisner did with his SPIRIT logos.

And I remember yearning.

Operations

Of music, sacred smiles, and nagging doubt:
Pitch-perfect was the Evening. And the Girl:
Enchanting, very tall, she was about
Revealing hidden Power. Glide, and Whirl,
Allay the fear a young heart has, of Breaking,
Tend to her own as well. She Bends. They Kiss.
In no time her in height he’s overtaking,
Obverted through the Atmosphere, he’ll miss
Near-Parity. He slides back down to Smaller,
Since their sould need no Height to make them Taller.

20191029_102030

“Hit me like a punch in the stomach.” A punch in the stomach can rupture a spleen, as Stephen King demonstrated in one of his novels.

The wrong words destroy confidence, break friendships, and bruise our psyches. Sometimes words are used with vicious intent, but not always. Sometimes it’s negligence. All too often, there’s a misunderstanding.

Let us remember, Friends: words can be weaponized. We have more destructive potential than we realize. So keep your powder dry, but keep your safeties on. Life is about nurturing, connecting, and joy, and not injuring.

Hang on, Kids. We are about to go on the Ride of Rides.

2019 1028 ride 02

Ride’s over, Folks! But don’t leave just yet, please.

Somewhere in all that noisy mayhem is a TRIPLE-acrostic poem. This one:

Ride Ride Ride

Rapt ball to First–an easy grounder
I‘d like to with the World go rounder. I
Done declared that need for speed
Entangled LIFE to supersede

Why do people pay good money to get on carnival rides and be whirled and tilted and inverted and sped around so much? I suppose there are many reasons. Two of mine are 1) They are the epitome of “in the moment” 2) They provide a means of brief escape from the Real World and its nightmares.

There’s a song by Vanity Fare [sic] called “Hitchin’ a Ride” that’s been playing in my head since I started this page. My brain is an often-wiseacre jukebox, sometimes infuriatingly so, but this time it served me well. Just when I started this very paragraph I went to YouTube, found the song, and it has just finished playing on the laptop I’m typing on. Without my asking, YouTube then queued up “California Dreamin'” by the Mamas and Papas, and that is what is playing now, and California is where I was born, and where many of my family members live. Welcome to The Ride of My Life, Friends. 🙂

PS: Simon and Garfunkel are now singing “The Sound of Silence.” Sometimes Silence is blessed and golden, especially after a long, bumpy ride. 🙂

2019 1027 coat

Friends, you deserve a better visual offering than this, but the World Series game today is more than halfway over and I want to see the rest of the game and it was either get this done too fast or not at all. I will try to take my time tomorrow to make up for this hasty, sloppy pudding of a page.

Coat Rote Mote Note

Covering the Earth a coat of molecules that span
Overcoated O.G. does a Hoodlum if he can
Antics of a coated pervert in a room to let
Take us to a cheesy plate with coat of vinaigrette

Father

My father was improbable. ° He was frightfully young–seventeen–when ° He and my not-yet mother ° Succumbed to that irresistible ° Primal Urge and got my ° Older brother started. Not-yet-Dad ° Was reluctant to step up ° (And I don’t blame him–he ° Was told he had nothing to fear ° And he knew what a Fork ° In the road Marriage ° And Parenthood were.)

But he did step up, ° Leaving some dreams in dust ° And realizing others ° He had not had before.

That is why I exist. And having learned ° Of my improbable origin ° I resolved that any child I conceived ° Would be wanted ever so much.

And the dream I had ° Was realized. I am a father. My daughter ° Is a Miracle. The improbability ° A beneficent Universe grants ° Fulfilled the most important ° Destiny of my life.

My daughter wants no children. ° She dreams her own dreams. ° She has my approval, and applause.

First off, apologies to John Legend. I was sketching you, John, but the unforgiving ink snuck in a generous portion of Steve Harvey. This is a misfire, John. You don’t look like this. I will do a better portrait of you, John, when I go back to pencil.

The three-liner of an acrostic poem includes an inside joke that only one person on Earth will “get.” And we will keep it that way.

Leg/End

Legend: Airy Vivienne

Entered–Gary said amen

Got a Fairy Tale? Hit Send

20191015_082522

20191012_195933The word “Privet” appears quite early on in the Harry Potter books, and since it was used for the name of a street, I for one never learned exactly what it meant. I looked it up recently and am freshly impressed by Rowling’s delicious slyness:

priv·et
/ˈprivit/
noun
  1. a shrub of the olive family, with small white heavily scented flowers and poisonous black berries.

It seems like that is a perfect name for a street for the Dirsleys to be living on.

My triple acrostic is “Saving Privet Dragon.” The odd net of the words to the poem are a silly attempt at that salvation. Sillier still was an earlier idea, which I’m sure has been done before, of dressing a dragon in a kimono for “Kimono Dragon.”

2019 1006 husky

The HUSKY is a noble beast, said Jack London in Call of the Wild.  There is a scene in the novel where a single husky followed commands of “Gee!” (Wrench to unstick the ice!”) “Haw!” (Now wrench THE OTHER WAY to unstick the ice!) “Now MUSH!!” (“Pull like the dickens!!”) and the dog pulled an unbelievable amount of weight a certain distance to win a bet for his Mushmaster. When offered a huge sum for the dog, Mushmaster told Moneybags to go to hell.

There was a husky on our block when I was growing up, and all that fur in hothothot Glendale, Arizona must have made him uncomfortable. But he was sweet-natured and never whined.

Husky Doggy

Have FUR, will MUSH, indeed
Unceasingly as is the way of Dogface Creed. O
Such Sacrifices! this dog is O. G
Knapsackers of the North, and Golly G
You watch as they move Mountains willingly.

20191005_095952

As a ceramic artist I have done a certain amount of hand-building, which is non-wheel-thrown working of clay. Ehen the “Build” prompt came up it occurred to me that “hand building” could be my Bad Pun of the Day if I used Hand Building to actually build a hand. (Thank you for reading my Bad Pun of the Day!)

HAND BLDG

Hit the switch–a genius bulb

Agitation of the skull

Need of subject Plan & grid

Dream becoming something big

Personal note: I made this page, and am writing these words, at an event called Meet Your Literary Community. As far as I know I am the only Acrostic Poet on display in the Community. Hope I’m doing a good job Representing!