Following the third year of a holiday letter comprised
of my (increasingly complex) life via a (increasingly complex) year-in-photographs, I
wondered what it would be like to join the great experiment of 365 days of photographs.
I'm not a photographer,
I'm a writer. I'm a visual thinker, and if ever there was proof that a photo is worth a
thousand words, it would be the story a photo tells me, or in this case, about me.
Follow me on this adventure, where I
learn about photography, my ability to record my life, my dedication to something (I've
never been known for doing anything everyday) in my posts. I've also discovered I'm
learning about time, the history of it, and the odd practice of recording it, measuring it,
turning it into something tangible, and I'll record these explorations in the sidebar.
As always, feel free
to say anything. My experiment is not a spectator sport.

July 24, 2009

July 24 2009 "Two Birds With One Stone" J A Lindon

Today was the last day of first grade for my girl. She successfully hosted a poetry recital (and reading! she always reminds me) and everyone who came enjoyed themselves, and it was a really great, and really interesting experience.

Things I learned:
The poem read by my aunt called "Beyond our Asking" by her neighbor when my aunt's husband was sick with cancer is about death in a grateful way, in that God provides hope and anything else we need and may ask for in a much greater quantity than we have ability to deal with. One bud from a million roses. This was contrasted by my friend's brother (also my friend) who read Dylan Thomas' "Do not go gentle into that good night" about going out kicking and screaming, hanging on to the last threads of life with all appreciation and all the vivacity of living.

Shel Silverstein is popular: "Three Stings," "Hot Dog," "Sick," "Biblely," and "Hug O'War" were all chosen by different people independent of each other.

A poem written by my mother in law has changed another friend of mine, and the poem he read was remarkably similar: "wind" ends in appreciation of this violent turbulence, and "10,000 times" is an appreciation of the strenuousness of Tai Chi study. Both are internally cleansing.

People like cookies and lemonade, apple juice not so much.

Four-year-olds can sit through a poetry recital (and reading!), at least until after they recite a Mother Goose Rhyme.

Most people are just as shy as a four-year-old when they read outloud their chosen poem. We hide it better when we grow up, as opposed as to when we are four, when we hide in momma's skirts.

The poem that is the title of this post is a good introduction to an intermission including refreshments.

My daughter has written two poems since the recital (and reading!), maybe more. One was before we even left today, called "Beginning, Middle, End" and is about the poetry recital (and reading!) (I truly hear her little voice correct me every time I pause after the word recital.) The other she wrote just before bed and it's about roses. I think that listening to others read their poems, and her year-long exploration of the six she memorized really changed the way she hears words and patterns them. I think she was highly influenced by the poem read by my writer/neighbor, the poem my aunt wrote, and the poems my mother-in-law read.

I have to apologize, all the pictures from this event are on a memory card in the fancy photographer's camera and I can't get them off yet. I'll get it up as soon as I can.

Tomorrow's word: wonder.

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