The Wind Chill May Be 10 Below, But We've Still Got the 'Cuse

We've had SU season Basketball tickets since the time of Pearl Washington. It's our SU seats that keep us from going south earlier in the winter. This year's team just might be my favorite, personality-wise, of any in all those years, and it's the joy and espirit de corps that these guys bring to each game that makes them so special. They can throw down a dunk, swish a 3 from 25, and deliver laser passes, too. And no one on the team ticks me off by moping or bitching, either. (Woops, I forgot about Mookie.) Well, maybe the Mook can learn, and if he can't, I understand that Iona would love to give him a scholarship.

The Big East season starts tonight. Seton Hall is tough. We could lose, but I don't think we will. Whatever occurs, I'm going to enjoy Andy's 3's, Brandon's drives, Wes's dunks, Arinze's lumbering slams, Rick's trash clean up, Kris bouncing to the hoop like a 6'7" puppy, Scoop playing so much better than I ever thought he could, Mookie's attempts to look like he really enjoys passing, and whoever else might play joining in the fun. If only Josh Pace could somehow be on this team. Now that would make it perfect.

Lucy and the Christmas Salmon

Another Story From the Children's Lit. Class I Took

(of course Lucy is real, but the rest of the family

has to fit the elementary age group)

Lucy the Yellow Labrador Retriever loved almost everything there was to eat.

She loved the kibble that Laura, her pet lady, put in her bowl everyday for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. She loved the cereal and milk that Will, her pet man, put in her bowl every night just before she went to bed. She also loved the crust, that Katharine, her pet 2nd grade girl, slipped to her under the table whenever the family ate pizza. And she loved the ice cream that Luke, her pet kindergarten boy, let her lick off his ice cream cone, whenever Laura wasn’t looking.

Along with those things, Lucy the Yellow Labrador loved to eat cheese, popcorn, cold egg drop soup, hot dogs with or without mustard, stale bread, the suet that Laura put out for the birds, spaghetti, graham crackers, Rolaids with the paper still on, and most roasted root vegetables. Lucy also loved to eat many other things. In fact, the only things that Laura, Will, Katharine, and Luke had discovered that Lucy didn’t like were turnips and stewed tomatoes. Which probably doesn’t surprise anyone.

But what Lucy really loved, adored, wanted more than anything was SALMON! Salmon is a very big, pink fish! One day earlier that fall, Uncle Tom had dropped a big salmon off at Lucy’s house. He brought it in a cooler, and Will put the fish in the freezer part of the fridge. “I caught that salmon in the Salmon River,” Uncle Tom said, which made sense to Lucy.

That afternoon, Laura took out the salmon and gave it to Will to clean OUTSIDE, please. Lucy sat by Will in case he needed any help. The smell of the salmon was interesting. Lucy could imagine rolling in it. Then the salmon went back in the fridge and Lucy forgot about it. There was far too much other food to think about.

A few days later when Luke and Katharine came home from school, Laura said to them, “We’re having salmon for dinner tonight.”

“Gross,” Katharine said.

“What’s salmon?” Luke asked.

Lucy’s ears perked up. In fact, Lucy watched Laura closely throughout the entire preparation of the salmon, and when the family sat down to dinner, Lucy sat on her rug and watched them eat.

“Lucy seems very interested,” Will said. “Want to give her a taste?”

“She can have some of my gross salmon,” Katharine said, jumped up from her place at the table, and carried a piece of salmon to Lucy’s bowl. Lucy padded over, sniffed the salmon, was pleased, and took a bite.

Oh, wow! Oh, wow! Lucy had never tasted anything so wonderful before. Her tail began to wag, first back and forth like a windshield wiper, then in a circle like the rotors on a helicopter. She ate the piece of salmon in a second and bounced over to the table to plant her happy head on Laura’s lap. The whole family laughed.

“She likes it,” Luke grinned. “I hate it.”

“I hate it, too!” Katharine said.

“I’ve tasted things I like a lot better than salmon,” Will agreed.

“Well, I love it,” Laura said, “and it’s very good for me. Lucy and I are the smart ones.” Then Laura took a big piece of salmon from the plate and plopped it into Lucy’s bowl. Lucy’s family watched her happily eating the fish.

“She reminds me of a very little polar bear,” said Katharine, and everyone agreed.

When Lucy was finished, she turned to her family and gave them a huge dog smile. Then she went to her rug and went fast asleep.

But sadly for Lucy that was the end of the salmon. The autumn went on, which was fun both for the Halloween cookies, and the Thanksgiving leftovers. Then it started to snow, which Lucy and her thick fur coat just loved. On snowy days, she would run in circles and roll in the white stuff while playing with Luke in the backyard so she was hungry for anything and everything when they came in from playing. Still in the back of her dog mind was the very, very wonderful memory of salmon.

Christmas morning came and Lucy got to eat a Santa Claus cookie while watching her people open their presents. There was even a stocking for Lucy that contained some Pupperoni, a pig’s ear, and a pack of 6 Denta-Chews, all Lucy’s favorites. When the unwrapping of presents was done, Laura said, “Oh, I almost forgot. Come on, Luce,” she said, and headed to the kitchen. Lucy followed her and Will, Katharine, and Luke followed Lucy.

Laura opened the refrigerator, and Lucy peaked in. Suddenly her tail began wiping and whirling. Laura was taking a big hunk of salmon from out of the fridge. “Merry Christmas, Lucy,” she said and Lucy bounced to her bowl. “Let me give it to her. Please,” asked Katharine, and taking the salmon from her mom, removed the wrapping and broke off a big piece. Lucy stood poised by her bowl for eating. In went the salmon, down went Lucy’ s head with mouth wide open. Oh, wow! Oh, wow! It was even better than she remembered. She licked her lips. There was simply nothing better to eat.

“She does look like a little polar bear, “ Will said.

“Yup,” said Luke.

“She does,” said Katharine.

“Such a good girl,” Laura said and patted Lucy’s head.

Lucy might have looked up and dog smiled at her family, but she was still busy gobbling up her most favorite thing to eat.

Mr. Garner and the Art Lectures from Hell

One blog sometimes leads to another. A few days ago I blogged about going to the art exhibit at the Everson. That blog got me thinking about why I don't get terribly overwhelmed about visiting art museums, even though I usually enjoy them when I get there. I think this slight antipathy for Rembrandt and Renoir and all those French artists whose names start with "M" may date from 10th grade.

In 10th grade, I was in Honors World History class. I'm quite sure it was called world history at that time, although, the study of how our country got to be, had a variety of names when I was growing up. In 7th grade we studied Citizenship Education, which we shortened to Cit Ed, pronounced like a command to a dog named Edward. In 8th grade at least, we took Social Studies, but that was soon renamed because it suggested both "socialism" and "social diseases" to certain extremely reactionary, but apparently influential, people. By the time we got to 10th grade, I'm quite sure we were taking just plain history.

Our teacher was a wonderful man named Reuben Garner. A small man, he wore a beret and drove a Jaguar, and I swear, he sort of walked on his toes as he crossed the room, he so possessed a small man's grace. He lived in the city of Rochester and took groups of students to Europe during the summer, so he was both cosmopolitan and continental to us. He was rich, too, hence the Jag, although, it was said that his wife had all the money, because how could a teacher ever become rich. He was also a Jewish man in a very waspy school, which made him all the more interesting and exotic.

Mr. Garner taught with flair. If we were studying the "zemsky sobor," he taught with a Russian accent. He had a potted plant on his window shelf named after some African revolutionary. Patrice Lumumba, I think. I remember when he lectured one day about someone named "We Dooz." I had no idea who this person was, but in my notes I wrote down, We Dooz did this or that or the other thing. I even asked a question about why We Dooz did one of those things. Finally, the kid next to me, who was taking French, while I was taking Spanish, whispered to me that "We Dooz" was Mr. Garner pronouncing Louis the 12th, the French way. I was quietly mortified.

Mr. Garner believed that our history education needed to be enriched with outside readings like Edith Hamilton's THE GREEK WAY, and with art lectures. A gentleman (I think his name may have been Mr. Dry) from the Rochester Museum of Art or the U of R or someplace artsy came once a month with slides to lecture us on Art. Not during class time, mind you, but for TWO HOURS after school. There are a multitude of things that 10th graders enjoy doing after school is over. One of those is not sitting in a dark room being lectured on the topic of "Art Through the Centuries" or "Art and You" or "Art in An Ever Expanding World" or whatever the hell it was called. The title should have been "This is Boring, Even the Nudes."

On the third Tuesday of each month, (I'm just guessing as to the day it actually was), we faced the dreaded trudge down the Greek way, or up the hills of Rome, or through the Renaissance, wherever cathedrals and columns, frescoes and facades could be found. I can't speak for my classmates, but I remember nothing about the art! I do remember that kids tried to get their mothers to schedule after school doctor or dentist appointments for them on art lecture days whether they needed them or not. I do remember that someone in one of Mr. Garner's classes, (God forbid not his honors class) had tied the cord on one of his blinds into a neat little hangman's noose. I remember studying that little noose for about an hour during one lecture and wondering if we could drag Mr. Dry to the noose and string him up before anyone could stop us. And I also remember that Mr. Garner would leave the lectures on occasion. Leave for like 20 MINUTES, which told me that HE WAS BORED, TOO!

And that is why I believe that great ART just ain't always that great to me. THE END!

Lucy's Christmas Letter to All

Yo, dogs! I just love posing for my Christmas letter. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! I hope the holiday season gives you tons of opportunities to roll in something really disgusting! My pet people are spending all sorts of time fawning over me and scratching my lower back, which just sends me into wiggles. They’re especially attentive because I have this condition with my neck. It does hurt, sure, but I play it for all I can get. Twice this week I tricked them into giving me extra Denta-stiks because I looked so pathetic.

The vet also discovered I have a bad thyroid, whatever that might be, so they give me pills hidden in peanut butter and they think I don’t know I’m taking them. They are so easy to fool. Interesting thing is I’m losing weight instead of gaining weight, which I’ve always enjoyed doing.

Ah, well, I’ll be labrador-svelte by the time we go to South Carolina in March. Greg and Linda rented a house on a big river with a fenced in yard, a big deck in the sun, and a doggy door-- for a whole month. How cool is that, and they rented it just for me from a lady who owns a labrador!! Of course, they do get to come, too, or else there’d be nobody to open the car door.

The other day I was looking out the family room window, and I saw a wandering mutt wetting in my side yard. I barked “hello” to him, and he barked back, “Pees on Earth!” Same to all of you wonderful canine and human friends!

I Woof You Very Much,

Lucy

(Actually sent by Lucy to her various dog friends)

Art for Lunch's Sake

I'm blogging from the Bridgeport Library in downtown Bridgeport, NY. Linda and two of her fellow library board members were unwilling to chance the dangers of Rte. 31 or Kirkville Rd. to attend the meeting in the 'Port on their own, so I got to drive.

A thought for a little extra holiday cash: Get yourself tasered. Borrow a couple of kids and a van, drive out to Salina and go 50 in 45 MPH zone. You can earn as much as 75 G's. Be sure to wear old clothes because you're probably going to have to wiggle around on the road for a little bit.

We went into the Everson Museum today to see the acclaimed "Turner to Cezanne" exhibit. Just as we got there, 4 buses from Caz. High School dumped out their denizens. You may remember that these are the same kids who tried to give me Swine Flu at the football game back in October. I'm not ashamed to say I was feeling a little paranoid.

I chose to put aside my neurosis, and we entered the museum. For most of the first section of the exhibit, the "Turner" part, we were swept along on a sea of Caz. kids. I did notice as we were tossed, like flotsam and jetsam, past his display, that Turner was famed for his maritime painting. Eventually, the crowd calmed as the kids began taking notes and such, and we were able to take only partially obscured looks at the work of many of the greatest European artists of the 19th century. We saw Monet and his brother Manet; Renoir and the American James Whistler. The end of the display, as the title suggested, featured two by Cezanne.

The exhibit was really wonderful as a way of seeing the work of so many Masters at the same time. The museum guides told us that people had come from Canada and all over the Northeast for the exhibit. The guides/security folk were excellent by the way, and when I broke the unposted 12 inch rule by allowing my little finger to point from a distance of 9 inches at a painting, I was summarily chided by a guide about as old as the shoes I had on.

Then we went to Coleman's for a lovely lunch. As we drove back to Chittenango, I silently asked myself a question. If I was looking for two friends with whom to spend a weekend, would I choose Turner and Cezanne?. . . or Turner and Hooch?

A Few Final Words on Twilight (for now) And a Few on SUMMERPLAY

Three quotes follow that sum up the magic or lack of magic which is TWILIGHT, et al. The first two come from 30+ professional woman, both ex-students, for whom I have tremendous respect. They offer opposing viewpoints. The third is from a young married man, and I absolutely love his clever quote.

#1 "I read them, but by default - I got the first two as Christmas gifts last year and then read the other two because they were a series. :) But I can't say that they were great and I have absolutely NO desire to see the movies. See, it took me all of a couple hours to read each one because the writing was so simple, and I didn't really care about any of the characters. Edward is written as the worst enemy of independent women/feminists everywhere, so I don't understand the attraction. "

#2 Okay, Okay...I must confess...I'm a 35-year old Twilight Fan!!!!

I LOVED your posting about it and it had me cracking up, as I am obsessed with it, but also have a sense of humor about it! The writing is pretty horrible, but the plot is just terrific. I read these books while pregnant and/or home with a child under the age of 1 year. It was an easy book to get lost in, delicious in imagery, fragrant with impossibly cheesy romance. Maybe I missed teaching teenagers or just needed a simple escape. My librarian actually recommended it to me before the obsession got as crazy as it is now...anyway, thought you would like to know why I love Twilight.

My students asked me last week - which do you like better in the movie - edward or jacob?

I said, "Which is legal for me to like?"

#3 "I’ve never read any of the books. My wife has twice. I swear I've heard her say under her breath that she wishes I was more like Edward. Whatever that means."

I have started writing SUMMERPLAY for July 2010. I had a pretty clear idea of the play I wanted to write and was thinking about a good name for the uncle, who is very important in the story. We were approaching the house we rented in Cape Cod for the first time when I noticed a street named Uncle Harvey's Way, and I knew a name and a title had just been delivered to me. The play's title is UNCLE HARVEY'S WAY, and it has a cast of 16, 9 female roles from 16 to 70ish and 7 male rolesfrom 16 to 50ish. There might be only 6 male roles if I decide to play a part, which I'm thinking of doing. One of the characters in the play is called the "Writer," and he functions as a sort of go-between between reality and the created world. I've always been interested in the relationship that a writer develops with his characters, and in UNCLE HARVEY'S WAY the writer will talk to one of the main characters as the play develops.

I'm having a specially good time writing this play, because I'm writing it like its a play for grown-ups. I don't mean that it won't be a play for high school students, because it will. There will be parts in it for high school age actors. But its going to deal with some serious issues within a dysfunctional family. Although, this is a play that I hope will have lots of humor, it is going to be far and away the most serious play I've ever written. My characters are going to talk and act in a way as close to life as I can create.

I'm not sure how this will all work out, but I can't wait to get a first draft done and do a practice read-through. Maybe UNCLE HARVEY'S WAY will crash and burn, but I do love that quote from a few posts back. I can't remember it exactly, but it was something to the effect of if you are fearful of failure, you probably won't create anything special.

Those of you reading this on FACEBOOK should really come to wwwmotleyplayer.blogspot.com/ some time. The blog's so much prettier there.

Two Perfect Monsters in One Family

"a story written for my kid lit. class"

By Greg Ellstrom

I woke up this morning with a grin on my face and shouted to my little sister in her bed across our room, “Niki, wake up! There’s no school today, and the monster is coming over!”

Niki jumped out of bed and ran down the hall calling to our brother, “Get up, Wobut! The monsta is coming!” Our brother’s name is Robert. Niki has trouble with her r’s.

Downstairs, Bart our Beagle was howling happily! To me it sounded like he was saying “the mooonster is coooming!”

While we ate breakfast, I said, “Remember, the time the monster was an ogre?” Then I made an ogre face and growled. We all laughed.

“Oh, Emily,” Niki said with a mouth full of Honey Nut Cheerios, “I wememba when the monsta was a dwagon!” She flapped her arms like a dragon might flap its wings, then pretended to breath fire from her nose, but milk came out instead. “Oh, gwoss,” she laughed.

Robert was laughing, too. “I remember when the monster was a mummy,” he said really loud and made his arms move all stiff like a mummy’s arms move “I was so scared I almost wet my pants!”

By the sink, Mom clicked her tongue and shook her head. “Robert!” she said.

We laughed! Bart howled! What a wonderful breakfast we were having and not just because we had the day off from school, but because the monster would soon arrive. Then the doorbell rang, and we raced to answer it, sure the monster was on our front porch.

I slowly pulled open the door, and the monster came in. She was smiling and had braces on her very white and scary teeth. Her monster hair was blonde and curly, and she had blue monster eyes and a t-shirt that said, “Hampton Middle School,”and jeans and a backpack on her back.

“Hi, guys,” the monster said and reached down to hug us all.

“Hi, Kelly,” we all said as we hugged back, because Kelly was the monster’s name, and the monster was our cousin. “Oh, Kelly,” Niki jumped up and down. “Will you play monsta with us today?” Kelly played the best monster in the world.

“I don’t know, guys,” the monster said, pulling her backpack off her shoulders. “I have homework I have to do.”

“Monsters have homework?” Robert said, surprised.

This made Kelly laugh, and she walked over to our couch and sat down. “I don’t know about monsters,” she smiled, “but 7th graders do.” Then she looked up and said, “Hi, Aunt Ginny.”

Mom was standing by the archway to the dining room. “Hello, dear,” Mom said to Kelly, and then she said to us. “Now I’ll only be gone a couple of hours, kids. Isn’t it nice that Kelly could come to sit for her cousins?” Then Mom looked at us. “Now don’t bother, Kelly. She has work to do. You can play by yourselves or maybe watch a video.”

Then Mom left and we stood there feeling pretty disappointed. The monster was over but wouldn’t play. In fact, the monster was on the couch reading a book.

So we all sat on the floor in a row. First me, then Robert, then Niki, then Bart. And we watched the monster as she read her book. As we watched, I saw how pretty the monster was, and I wondered if she had a monster boyfriend, which would be pretty cool, I guess.

Every now and then the monster would look at us over the top of her book, and at last she spoke.

“Robert, what grade are you in?” she asked.

“First.”

“What grade are you in, Niki?”

“Pwe-K.”

“Emily. What about you?”

“Third,” I said.

The monster smiled. “Well, guess what?”

“What?” we all answered, even Bart who sort of said “whooot?”

“It was when I was in third grade that I first became a monster. I think it’s your time, Em!”

Well, Robert and Niki and Bart all looked at me, and in just a few minutes we were playing and laughing, and “guess what?” I was the monster! We played monster in the kitchen and in the cellar and in the family room, and once, I jumped out of the bathtub being an ogre and scared my little brother and sister so much that they laughed until they fell on the floor.

When Mommy came home and Kelly had to go, I took her hand. “You were always the perfect monster, Kelly,” I said.

“Thanks, Emily,” she smiled, and I noticed that her very white teeth with braces weren’t scary at all. Her blue eyes weren’t monster eyes, and her blonde hair wasn’t monster hair, either.

When Kelly was gone I ran to the bathroom mirror and looked at my face. Oh my goodness! Now I had monster teeth and monster hair and monster eyes! It was awesome!

That night when Niki and I lay in our beds just about to go to sleep, Niki said to me, “Emily, today you wuh a pewfect monsta.”

“Thank you, Nik,” I smiled, and then we went to sleep, a perfect monster and her little sister.

(This is a story I was supposed to create for a picture book. All picture books are 32 pages long. I never knew that before. The idea came from when I was a little kid. I was the oldest of all my siblings and cousins, and whenever, we would visit our cousins in Cheektowaga I would have to be the monster.)

Thanks to Erin, whoever she may be, for her "perfect monster" image that I found on Google.

Lucy, the Cape, Judy, 4 Terrific Responders, and a Quote

1. We picked up a very happy Lucy the Lovable Lab from an exciting 9 days at the B&B for Dogs. If you have a dog who you must occasionally board, and you live in the Chitt/Caz area, you should investigate the Bed and Bowl run by Camille Mann and Jim Rowe. Social dogs love to go there because they are surrounded by a bunch of other playful dogs. The dogs have a house almost to themselves with furniture to sleep on, classical music playing, and closed circuit TV monitoring between rooms. Whenever we take Lucy to Camille and Jim's, she cries all the way, not because she is sad but because she can't wait to get there.

2. We left Cape Cod at a little past 9 this morning and arrived home at a little past 4. When we left the Cape it was sunny, and when we got back home it was pretty sunny, too, which was nice.

3. I unintentionally left Judy Waite off the Wonders contributors list. Judy's response arrived a bit late, and I missed it between my online LL Bean statement and two requests from Nigerian gentlemen for my money so they could make me rich. Judy's suggestions of past wonders included the furniture store that was once next to the post office. I bought a rocking chair there when Jan was a baby. The owner, a rather miserable fellow, hinted loudly that he hated kids. Judy also pointed out that the Skeele Insurance Office was once the entire Sullivan Free Library.

4. I got great responses from 4 ladies, whose opinions I really respect, concerning yesterday's blog. Only the teenage responder found fault with the stories. All 3 of the 25-at-least ladies reinforced the amorous ideal that Edward, Bella's vampire boy, has become to post-teeners and even way- post-teeners. Basically they said that he represents a romantic ideal in fantasy form, and they like him! He's hot, cool, and uber-attentive! Say you're a healthy young or youngish woman sitting at home on a Thursday night, paying your bills, and watching dvr'd soaps--what could be wrong with wishing a gorgeous vampire would drop in for a little passion at a distance? But what I still can't understand is what do you do if he decides to drain the blood from your Basset Hound to maintain his self control?

5. Today's quote: "Edward Cullen fits the profile of what the psychological literature calls a compensated psychopath--socially dangerous, but still keeping up the appearance of normality

--while Bella is always in need of rescue. 'He watches her sleep, and if that's not creepy, I don't know what is. Girls say they are turning away from Harry Potter to Edward Cullen because they think it a more realistic relationship--and he's a vampire! It's baffling!' " (Debra Merski, University of Oregon Journalism Professor) I wonder if we're living in a time where a beautiful, alabaster-skinned, dangerous vampire is a better catch than a handsome young sorceror, who in Book 7, basically saved both the Wizarding and Muggle worlds. Or maybe it's always been that way. My goodness, would Sigmund Freud have a wonderful time with this!