Brief Parental Update...

And life sends another bit of a challenge our way...

Dad had a very slight stroke yesterday, one of the Transient Ischemic Attacks that's usually Mum's province. Today he has slight weakness in his right side, but his speech is clear (speech can be affected when the right side of the body is affected -- a stroke that shows symptoms on the right side of the body has happened on the left side of the brain, and vice versa). He has some residual confusion, at least it seemed that way when I was talking to him on the phone today. I'm in the process of getting over a cold, and was still coughing today, so the people at the nursing home agreed with me that it was better that I didn't visit until I was better.

Today (despite my cold) I had to take Mum to the doctor, to get her prescriptions renewed, and to check on a couple of things. She's been quite plagued by shortness of breath, and he decided today that this is caused by some fluid on her lungs (don't know if it's a result of the pneumonia, but the problem has been quite noticable since the pneumonia). So he has increased the dosage of her diuretic.

There's always something to keep life from being on an even keel for more than a very short while.

Here's a song for each of them -- a spiritual that Dad used to sing to me as a lullaby, and then a lullaby that Mum used to sing to me (both sung by me).

Swing Low, Sweet Chariot

Sweet and Low

The Great American Mousical

No, I didn't spell "musical" incorrectly. The Great American Mousical is a delightful book for ages 8 and up (hey, that includes me! I'm over 8!). It is the story of a troupe of theatre mice in an old theatre on Broadway, who are preparing to stage their traditional New Year's Eve benefit performance when they hear that the theatre is going to be torn down. However, true to their theatre roots, "the show must go on", and go on it does, though there is many a problem before the staging of the show.

There are delightful characters in the book, drawing on the various "types" that one finds in theatres worldwide. (I love the Cast of Characters listed before the story begins, which details all the Mouse characters, then mentions "Assorted Humans" at the very end!). Wende, I thought you'd enjoy the fact that the Costume Shop Manager is named Hysterium. (!) Through the book, children (and others) are introduced to what goes on in rehearsal on the stage, in front of the stage, and backstage; as well as what it is like on opening night. It would be a fantastic experience, I think, to read this book with a child and then to attend a live performance or two.

The book came about when one of its authors saw a mouse backstage in a theatre, and began wondering if the theatre mice (of which there are usually scads, in an old theatre) had their own theatre... When I told my mother how this book came about, she commented, "That sounds like the way you think". Yes indeed.

Oh, did I mention? No, I don't believe I did. The book is written by Julie Andrews Edwards and her daughter Emma Walton Hamilton, and illustrated delightfully by Tony Walton, who is an award-winning stage and costume designer... and Emma's Dad.

Go here to see more about the book. It is a delight. And go here to play a game (and to hear Julie sing)! (I love games, even kids' games!)

Poor old Poppins, muscled out again...

Grr, grumble, growl... the strained muscle in my left side was just about better. I was thinking that the Poppins Project could resume forthwith, or at least fifthwith. Then, with no warning, and no memorable incident to account for it, I strained a muscle in my right side, and dear Poppins is sidelined once again. I think it's the Maid's fault. She's going to quite the extremes to shirk her work. This will not be tolerated.

At least the Writer is able to continue, strained muscles or no, so someone's accomplishing something around here.

This morning I will be embarking on Chapter Three of The-Kids'-Novel-I-Would-Have-Read-As-A-Child-So-Hopefully-Other-Kids-Will-Read-It-Too. On the advice of My Cousin the Writer for Young Readers, I combined my original chapters one and two, and wrote another, longer, chapter two, and am now ready to move onward.

Yesterday, while also hunting for some information for Chapter Three that I was sure I had and could put my hands on readily (which, alas, proved not to be the case thus far), I started a nonsense-verse picture book, which is proving to be great fun.

Nothing like having as many irons in the fire as will possibly fit! (I was encouraged by Julie Andrews' remark in her BAE talk -- see sidebar for Book Author's Breakfast -- that she and Emma currently have five projects in the pipeline. So I'm not alone in having several things on the go at once.)

Onward and sideways... (onward and upward is too much to hope for these days)

Happy Birthday, Brian!

In England, it's already July 14, so it's time to wish my blog-friend Brian a very happy birthday -- may the day, and the year, be all you wish for!

A little Disney to brighten your day... (it's Donald, not Mickey -- oh well...)

And, on a more serious note, a birthday poem, by SCB --

Amazing, isn't it? Awe-inspiring.

Marks, lines, dots on paper form words, meanings, emotions, dreams --

The writer takes the basic stuff of life,

and with carefully chosen words creates things dark or light,

that which inspires, that which challenges,

celebration, grief, fear, relief, joy, sorrow,

combining at last into a unified whole.

So in life, our experiences -- the basic stuff of lie --

the dark, the light, the sorrow, the joy,

inspiration, challenge, celebration, grief, dream and memory,

all build upon each other to one day form a unified whole.

A birthday -- especially a milestone one --

provides us with a fresh opportunity

to reflect on all that has been written in our life story thus far,

and to give thanks!*

Happy Birthday, Brian!

*Birthday poem copyright SCB's real name

Loving the music in words...

A couple of days ago, one of the staff at the nursing home where Mum lives loaned her a book of poems that the staff-member has treasured since high school. When I visited Mum that afternoon, I spent over half an hour leafing through the book, reading poems to Mum at random (until a steady stream of visitors put that pleasant pastime on hold).

I have mentioned on this blog before just how much poetry means to both Mum and me. Some of the poems I read to Mum that afternoon were ones her mother had recited at public occasions, some were ones Mum remembered reciting at music festivals, some were ones my wonderful Grade Four teacher had recited to our class... all were dearly treasured.

There's something about poetry that captures my heart and my imagination -- the lilt of the language, the meter and rhythm, the precisely, carefully chosen words...

Over twenty years ago, to celebrate our shared love of poetry, I compiled a collection of favorite poems for my mother, for a Christmas present. I dedicated the compilation "To my mother, who taught me to love the music in words". That dedication rings true today, as it did back then. I am blessed that she and I can still enjoy together the music inherent in the words of poetry.

There is another mother and daughter to whom I know poetry means a great deal. As part of the Stony Brook Children's Literature Conference that has been going on all week, this evening -- July 11 at 7:30 p.m. -- in Southampton, New York, there is a reading and book-signing that I would so love to be able to attend. Julie Andrews Edwards and Emma Walton Hamilton have compiled a book (to be officially released October 1, Julie's 74th birthday) entitled The Julie Andrews Collection of Poems, Songs and Lullabies. Julie and Emma, like my Mum and me, truly love the music in words.

At a Children's Books author's breakfast in May, twenty-five years or more after I wrote those words about Mum teaching me to love the music in words, Julie Andrews spoke to the audience about words, wisdom, wonder -- the Three Ws of the Julie Andrews Collection publishing program -- and spoke from her heart about appreciating the music inherent in the words of poetry. For me it was one of those moments when one feels a deeper kinship with someone, knowing that she has thought the same thing, felt the same thing, as I have. Please give this podcast a listen -- I think you'll like it.

When I was a child, I loved to recite -- in its entirety -- Longfellow's poem The Day is Done. He, too, spoke of the music in words.

Come, read to me some poem...

And the night shall be filled with music,

And the cares that infest the day

Shall fold their tents like the Arabs

And as silently steal away.

Of Whangdoodles and seeing all there is to see...

It's been a few (?) several (?) years since I last read The Last of the Really Great Whangdoodles. I'm not sure just how long it's been, I just know that when I looked for my hardcover copy which I purchased when the book was first published in 1974, I couldn't find it. Thankfully, it has been reprinted in a 30th anniversary edition, which I ordered from good ol' amazon.

This afternoon, while thunder rumbled and crashed outside, I sat happily in my reading chair and revisited Whangdoodleland. It's delightful when you re-read a favorite book that you haven't read for a while. At least for me, it's like encountering an old friend you haven't seen for quite some time, sitting down for a cup of tea, and finding that after a few moments your conversation and your friendship pick up where they left off as if you'd never been apart.

In both scenarios, of course, there are differences. You've changed, and perhaps you discover or rediscover something about the old friend that you'd missed, or had forgotten. The old friend is suddenly new again. So in the midst of finishing each other's sentences with remembered catchphrases that once were a part of your everyday conversation (and before the Whiffle Bird has a chance, you're saying out loud "You're Being Taken for a Ride!"), you think, "I never realized that before", or you say, "Oh, I'd forgotten that. How delightful to be reminded!"

I had remembered the whimsy, the magnificently outlandish creatures, the motto Pax, Amor, et Lepos in Iocando -- Peace, Love, and a Sense of Fun. I had forgotten the subtle lessons about science, about DNA (and when Lindy, the little girl receives the explanation that DNA is what makes life, and says that she thought life was to do with G.O.D., there's the reminder of the dangers of humans playing G.O.D. with life). I had forgotten the wonderful passages in the book that urge the children -- and the reader -- to notice everything around them, to really look at things, not to be content with a superficial glance to take in one's surroundings, but to observe everything. As I read those passages, I thought "The professor sounds just like Julie Andrews' Dad!" He was always saying things like "Look, chick -- see how that plant is growing? Look at the leaves. Look at the colors." (That's not a direct quote.) He was always urging Julie and her brother to observe every aspect of nature. Of course, when I read the book previously, I was not privy to that information, since Julie's memoir Home had not been written. It's so fascinating, therefore, to go back to a book from then, and have it be made so much more meaningful by a book from now. Re-reading can bring riches to one's life.

Rediscovering the science in the book also made me think of Mella, and I thought, "No wonder she loved this book so much when she was growing up". In the book the fanciful lives happily side by side with the scientific, and each informs and enriches the other.

Delightful as it is to revisit all the whimsical characters in this book, I think what I'll take away from this re-reading is a reminder to open my eyes, and really be aware of all that is around me -- as William Blake said in Auguries of Innocence,

To see a World in a Grain of Sand

And a Heaven in a Wild Flower,

Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand

And Eternity in an hour.

Because I'm a Sentimental Sap, and I Don't Care Who Knows It...

Indulge me for a moment... This morning I was thinking about a song that was popular on the radio during the 1970s -- not the usual rock song, a gentler song, sung by a teacher and her school class, about the town they lived in. (Yes, as I said in the title, I'm a sentimental sap, always have been, always will be...)

If you were around in the 1970s, you might remember the song, "Mill Valley" -- whether or not you want to remember it is another thing. Judging from the wikipedia article, the place has changed over the years, but then, haven't we all?

This morning I thought to look on YouTube, and sure enough, there was Miss Abrams and her class of kids, singing for me.

This moment of sentimentality was brought to you by the letters S, C, and B.