04.14.09
Photo: Red Cherry Plum
We’ve had one hard freeze after another this spring, so I had little doubt that all my budding trees and plants had bit the dust. But just look at this little tree. Usually if we get so much as a light frost while these things are budding, they won’t bloom. So I’m amazed, as well as thrilled, to see that most everything seems to have come through the cold weather fine. Now if it just doesn’t freeze or frost anymore….

Image Copyright 2009 Elizabeth Melton Parsons
02.20.09
Of Art and Poetry
Most of you who read my work know I was first inspired in my childhood by Edgar Allen Poe. Unlike some writers who say they were born as writers, I had no such aspirations until around twelve years of age. I read The Raven by Poe and it caught my imagination. I wanted to know more about Lenore and what had happened to her. And I wanted to write–to put pen to paper and pour out all my emotions, dark or otherwise, in the art of poetry and short stories.
There are so many things I love about Poe’s work, too many to name actually. I love the rhyming and rhythm. I suppose he was a little obsessed with metre and was criticized for it. One critic (Emerson) even calling him the “jingle man”. Every time I come across this jingle man comment, I have to laugh. It goes back to one of my pet peeves in both the fine art and poetry worlds.
Rhyming poetry is ‘out of fashion’. And if a rhyming poem also has a pleasant rhythm, then it ’s called crap, no matter how deep or moving the poem. The ‘in power’ people–critics and editors in higher positions of power try to tell the world what is acceptable and what isn’t. Whenever I’m around one of these critics and they drone on and on about the merits of poems, which to me have no beauty or meaning, my mind zones out and all I hear is blah, blah, blah, blah…………..until my brain turns to mush and I have to get away from them.
When I read a poem, it had better have some kind of beauty (rhyme or rhythm) or it had better be a prose poem that tells me a story. I can’t stand those poems that are nothing more than a bunch of words on paper and I’m supposed to dig out the hidden meaning. What rot! Let the ‘power people’ do it. I don’t have time for such nonsense. I love poetry that speaks to me, touches me on some kind of emotional level. Make me smile, cry, or wonder. Inspire me. I don’t give a fig about the “hidden” meaning. I only care about it’s meaning to me, or the clear meaning of the author. Notice I said clear meaning. If I have to read it more than three times to discern the meaning or for it to reach me in some way, then I’m done with it.
Those in the know would call me an under educated doofus. That’s okay. Everyone is entitled to their opinions. Even those of us who are erroneously called doofus. I feel the same about fine arts. Someone stands in front of a huge canvas, turns on a fan and throws paint in front of it to splatter all over the canvas. Depending on the artist’s name, this could be great art or it could be crap. If I did it, it would be called crap because I’m a nobody. I was at an exhibition once and I stood in front of just such a piece of art. To me it was somewhat interesting, colorful and pleasant to look at, nothing more and nothing anyone…and I mean anyone else could not do just as well. I said as much to the ’in the know’ art critic beside me and he gave me what could only be described as a look of horror and said, “You simply do not understand great art.” Okay, then I don’t. But it’s my opinion that the people who say things like that are simply saying them so they won’t appear to be a doofus like me.
Don’t get me wrong, I paint colorful splotches and dribbles sometimes, but I use a bush, knife or some other handheld tool. I love abstract, impressionism, realism, surreal…ect. I just love art. But these splatters are not ”great” art; I don’t care what your name is. They may be beautiful or wild or whatever, but throwing art at a canvas or even pissing on a canvas, as more than one well known artist has, is not great art, not to this doofus at any rate.
My advice is to love what you love, and don’t be afraid to love it or not, just because someone tells you so. Same with your writing, especially if you’re a poet. Write what you love, even if it is those types of poems I dislike so much. But don’t write anything just because it’s the ‘in thing’ at the moment. If you don’t feel it or love it, don’t do it.
02.11.09
Meningitis Vaccine
Just adding a site that explains in detail the disease that causes meningitis and talks about the vaccines available. It also explains why in my earlier post I said I did not want my child to have the vaccine, even though his school has said it will be required for all grades 6-12 next year. If you visit the site, pay close attention to the part about suppressing the immune system.
02.07.09
Mandated Vaccines and Schools
Earlier this year, I received a call from my son’s school informing all parents that we were to bring in proof that our children had either had chicken pox or had been vaccinated and when. I ignored it. He had to have this vaccination before he was allowed to start Kindergarten and the school has all those records. Now today I received another call informing the parents once again that everyone who had not provided proof that they need to do so. I was also informed that beginning next year, all children in grades 6 – 12 must also have the meningitis vaccine before school starts. I THINK NOT. I’m not as uninformed as I once was, and my family will not be getting any government mandated or any other vaccines–EVER or at least until they are proved to be safer than they are now. I’m pretty sure that’s never going to happen, especially now that the huge pharmaceutical companies are safe from law suits when it comes to the dangers of vaccines. So I guess this means my son won’t be going to school next year. The following websites are good resources, but there are hundreds of others.
http://www.whale.to/a/butler9.html
http://www.know-vaccines.org/parent.html
http://educate-yourself.org/vcd/howensteinwhyyoushouldavoidvaccines03feb07.shtml
01.18.09
Letting Go
They say you can’t move on without letting go. Who are THEY and how do THEY know these things? When I hear expressions like that, I always get a mental image of a vast table with these wise and wonderful people sitting around it in their long, dark robes and coming up with all these little gems.
I, like most people, carry around a lot of baggage from the past–some pretty bad, I admit, but some pretty darn good stuff too. So when we let go, do we say goodbye to the good along with the bad? Aren’t they kind of intertwined? Without the bad, can we truly appreciate the good?
I don’t know the answers, but there’s one thing on which I do concur. You can’t wallow in past bad stuff. If you do, you will never do anything but that. When I was twenty-one, I lost my dad, then a few years ago I lost both a brother and my mom. I still grieve for them. I don’t wallow in it, but I did for a while. I ranted, I cursed, I cried…I was so angry and frustrated. I hurt and I felt helpless. Have I let go? I honestly don’t think I have. I still get angry, I still cry at the oddest of times.
How do you let go of those emotions that burrow so deep inside they seem to become a part of your soul? Can you? And should you? A friend of mine told me to pray. I did and do. And yes, God gave me the courage to live with these emotions, but they are still there lurking in the corners.
Have I moved on? What does that mean exactly? I work, I play, I nuture my family, I laugh–is that moving on? I believe it is.
12.26.08
Happy New Year!
It’s that time again…seeing the old year out and the new one in. Have you made your New Year’s resolutions yet or have you given them up, as I have? I can remember a time when I wouldn’t dream of welcoming in the new year without making a list of resolutions that I was of course, resolved to keep. You know the old standards…lose a few pounds, eat healthier, exercise more, be kinder, have more patience…….and keep a few I did. Unfortunately most went by the wayside, as life got in the way of good intentions.
Several years ago I made the resolution to finally sit down and write that novel I’d scribbled notes about some time ago and stuffed under my bed. That Monday morning after New Year’s day rolled around and I pulled those hand written notes out, dusted them off and sat down determinedly in front of my pc. Ten minutes later I still sat there…staring at that blank page, wondering whatever possesed me to make such a stupid resolution. Having made it though, I felt obligated to at least try. After a day of much deep sighing and a cramped finger from pushing the backspace key continuously… I had, to my surprise, a good five pages of my novel written. I felt proud. I’d done it.
Fast forward to the next morning. I couldn’t wait to get to that lighted screen and get to work. To my utter dismay, what I’d thought was absolutely brilliant the day before, now seemed so much LESS brilliant. I deleted the entire five pages and doggedly began again, the light of battle shinning brightly in my eyes. No way would this defeat me. I pounded out ten pages, the first chapter. I didn’t read these pages over the next day, simply starting where I’d left off and writing two more chapters, and so it went until I had a first draft. This time I knew it wasn’t going to be brilliant when reading it back. I knew there would be slashing and rewriting and editing, but I’d done it. I’d actually written my first book. And oh, what a feeling of euphoria I had. But I don’t make New Year’s resolutions anymore. They’re probably a good thing for some, but for me–I’m too afraid I’ll have to keep them. Instead I offer a prayer for the heath and happiness of all my friends and family.
This coming New Year’s Eve, I will offer that same prayer for all people far and wide. Have a very safe and happy New Year’s Eve and a healthy, happy and prosperous New Year.
Elizabeth
05.30.08
Emily Dickinson – God Gave A Loaf
Wednesday the doctors got the MRI report back on my brother’s stroke and said there was no hope…he’d never recover and as soon as he was strong enough he’d be moved to a nursing home. Yesterday God gave us a small miracle. My brother is on many prayer lists and those prayers have been answered. He began to respond and now the doctors have changed their opinion. As soon as he is stronger he will be sent to a rehab center. A small step–but a step towards hope when at first there was none. In celebration here is another Emily Dickinson favorite of mine and appropriate for how I feel at the moment.
God gave a loaf to every bird,
But just a crumb to me;
I dare not eat it, though I starve,–
My poignant luxury
To own it, touch it, prove the feat
That made the pellet mine,–
Too happy in my sparrow chance
For ampler coveting.
It might be famine all around,
I could not miss an ear,
Such plenty smiles upon my board,
My garner shows so fair.
I wonder how the rich may feel,–
An Indiaman–an Earl?
I deem that I with but a crumb
Am sovereign of them all.
Elizabeth
05.26.08
My Brother – Massive Stroke
My brother had a massive stroke and is unresponsive. The doctors say they won’t be able to tell us anything until the MRI results come back, but the next forty-eight hours are the critical. I will be absent from my blog for a while. For those who have been reading, Thank you…I’ll be back as soon as possible. I have lost one brother already, so any prayers for my brother and our family are greatly appreciated. Elizabeth
