Tuesday, January 23, 2007

A Snippet :: The Wheel and the Brake

Praise without end for the go-ahead zeal
of whoever it was invented the wheel;
but never a word for the poor soul's sake
that thought ahead, and invented the brake.

"To the Congress of the United States, Entering Its Third Century" by Howard Nemerov, from The Selected Poems of Howard Nemerov. © Swallow Press and Ohio University Press.

A Poem :: The Walrus and the Carpenter

"The Walrus and the Carpenter" by Lewis Carroll.

The sun was shining on the sea,
Shining with all his might:
He did his very best to make
The billows smooth and bright —
And this was odd, because it was
The middle of the night.

The moon was shining sulkily,
Because she thought the sun
Had got no business to be there
After the day was done —
"It's very rude of him," she said,
"To come and spoil the fun!"

The sea was wet as wet could be,
The sands were dry as dry.
You could not see a cloud, because
No cloud was in the sky:
No birds were flying overhead —
There were no birds to fly.

The Walrus and the Carpenter
Were walking close at hand:
They wept like anything to see
Such quantities of sand:
"If this were only cleared away,"
They said, "it would be grand!"

"If seven maids with seven mops
Swept it for half a year.
Do you suppose," the Walrus said,
"That they could get it clear?"
"I doubt it," said the Carpenter,
And shed a bitter tear.

"O Oysters, come and walk with us!"
The Walrus did beseech.
"A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk,
Along the briny beach:
We cannot do with more than four,
To give a hand to each."
The eldest Oyster looked at him,
But never a word he said:
The eldest Oyster winked his eye,
And shook his heavy head —
Meaning to say he did not choose
To leave the oyster-bed.

But four young Oysters hurried up,
All eager for the treat:
Their coats were brushed, their faces washed,
Their shoes were clean and neat —
And this was odd, because, you know,
They hadn't any feet.

Four other Oysters followed them,
And yet another four;
And thick and fast they came at last,
And more, and more, and more —
All hopping through the frothy waves,
And scrambling to the shore.

The Walrus and the Carpenter
Walked on a mile or so,
And then they rested on a rock
Conveniently low:
And all the little Oysters stood
And waited in a row.

"The time has come," the Walrus said,
"To talk of many things:
Of shoes — and ships — and sealing-wax —
Of cabbages-and kings —
And why the sea is boiling hot —
And whether pigs have wings."

"But wait a bit," the Oysters cried,
"Before we have our chat;
For some of us are out of breath,
And all of us are fat!"
"No hurry!" said the Carpenter.
They thanked him much for that.

"A loaf of bread," the Walrus said,
"Is what we chiefly need:
Pepper and vinegar besides
Are very good indeed —
Now if you're ready, Oysters dear,
We can begin to feed."

"But not on us!" the Oysters cried,
Turning a little blue.
"After such kindness, that would be
A dismal thing to do!"
"The night is fine," the Walrus said.
"Do you admire the view?

"It was so kind of you to come!
And you are very nice!"
The Carpenter said nothing but
"Cut us another slice.
I wish you were not quite so deaf —
I've had to ask you twice!"

"It seems a shame," the Walrus said,
"To play them such a trick,
After we've brought them out so far,
And made them trot so quick!"
The Carpenter said nothing but
"The butter's spread too thick!"

"I weep for you," the Walrus said:
"I deeply sympathize."
With sobs and tears he sorted out
Those of the largest size,
Holding his pocket-handkerchief
Before his streaming eyes.

"O Oysters," said the Carpenter,
"You've had a pleasant run!
Shall we be trotting home again?"
But answer came there none —
And this was scarcely odd, because
They'd eaten every one.

Tuesday, January 9, 2007

Life With A Teacher, Vol. 1

My wife Nancy teaches Sunday School (4-year olds) as well as pre-school. A few weeks ago she was getting ready to leave Sunday School when one of her students returned to the room. He saw her getting her coat on and asked, "Teacher, where are you going?"

She said, "I'm going home. I have a house and a family."

"You do?" he replied, in surprise. "I thought you lived with God!"

Life Around My House, Vol. 1

So my wife and I were talking about what to have this weekend when our friends are over for dinner. Here's what I have to put up with . . . .

Nancy: Can you grill some salmon?

Mark: Sure, we can grill all year long with the gas grill.

Nancy: How 'bout broccoli to go with it?

Mark: I vote for corn.

Daughter: Corn? You can't have corn with salmon.

Mark: Why not? I like corn.

Nancy: No corn; broccoli.

Mark: Who says you can't have corn with salmon?

Nancy: You can't. It's in all the cookbooks!


"It's in all the cookbooks?"

Monday, January 8, 2007

A Poem

A new poem, in actuality.


I'd like to say that I
Wandered through the dark
Recesses of my mind
To write this

I have to say, though, that my
Mind is not dark like a
Closet is dark, musty, closed
In actuality

I'd like to say that I
Thought long and hard using my
Boundless intellect
To write this

I have to say, though, that my
Words rolled out like
Newsprint from a press
In actuality

I'd like to say that I
Envisioned receiving
Acclaim for having the inspiration
To write this

I have to say, though, that my
Verse will probably not be noticed
Received barely, if at all
In actuality

I'd like to say that I
Couldn’t wait to put pen to paper and
Worked all night
To write this

In actuality
I fell asleep in front of the computer

Sunday, January 7, 2007

A Poem . . .

. . . that my father remembers from when he was a kid.

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
I like horses,
Can you swim?

I Think It's Time To Hang Up The Wrenches

My wife and I have a 1996 Dodge full-size van. It's eleven years old, but I still drive it to work because my 2002 Honda is with my daughter at college. Better that she drive the newer car to her internship, of course.

The van has been giving me trouble, though; trouble with the brakes. A couple weeks ago, I was hoping to simply bleed the brake system. As you might imagine, the parts are old and rusty . . . and the bleeder screw broke off. I took the rear brake apart and sprayed the brake line fitting with Liquid Wrench for several days. The fitting came loose - yippee! - but as I continued turning it, the fitting broke off from the brake line! Grrrr! So now I could remove the wheel cylinder (the assembly which forces the brake shoes against the drum when the pedal is depressed), but had to replace the line leading to the rear brake. Fortunately, the line was short, leading to a junction on the rear axle. I sprayed that for several days, too, and this time the fitting came loose without anything else going wrong.

Over the course of several more days, I bought a new wheel cylinder and a length of brake line, bent the brake line to (roughly) match that which was on the car, cut and flared the end, installed the cylinder, the line and all of the brake parts and (finally) bled the line. Then I broke the bleeder screw off the other rear brake.

Not that I didn't expect that to happen - I already have the replacement parts! But this whole exercise has led me to re-thinking my doing these kinds of auto repairs myself.

When I was sixteen, and had bought my first car, I told my friends that I never wanted to be tied down to having to see an auto mechanic for car repairs. As I was taking courses in Math, Science, English, Social Studies and German, and had no time for Power Mechanics, they taught me how to change the oil and tune up my car. From there, I learned to do brake jobs, replace radiators, water pumps, alternators, mufflers (and entire exhaust systems), clutches, transaxles, transmissions . . . .

I'm not sixteen any more. It's getting harder to work in the cold, and crawl around on the ground, under the car. Several years ago, while working on a '90 Dodge Caravan, it was sooo cold that I had to get a couple of pieces of cardboard to lay on - the concrete floor was so cold it was painful!

We're on a better financial footing, too, so the extra costs won't "hurt" as much.

But it feels like I'm leaving a part of my life behind, too. I'm kinda proud that I can do the work, and feel like I've been able to save my family a bunch of money over the years. It's "fun", too . . . and it's not programming a computer.

Can it be that I'm feeling a touch of remorse for the old days, or feel the years piling up on me?

Maybe it's fitting that the final episode of M*A*S*H is on while I write this.

Wednesday, January 3, 2007

For Any Who Are Reading This

Just to let you know, by the way, that I am beginning to realize how much I am doing this for myself - not necessarily for anyone else. But that's okay, too, isn't it?

Tuesday, January 2, 2007

From Mad Magazine . . . Years Ago!

How is it I can remember this from the late 60's/early 70's and can't remember what I need from the store when I get there?

To the tune of Downtown, "with apologies to Petula Clark".

When you eat meat
But hate the meat that you're eating,
Then you've surely got . . .
Ground Round

It's so unnerving
When they're constantly serving
In your favorite spot . . .
Ground Round

It could be called a chopped steak,
Salisbury or beef patty
No matter what it's called
It's always overcooked and fatty

What can you do?

Go up to your waiter there
Loudly pound on your table
Stand up on your chair, and shout

Ground Round! Always you're giving me
Ground Round! Always you're feeding me
Ground Round! Why must it always be
Ground Round . . .
Ground Round . . .
Ground Round . . .
Ground Round . . .

The Tyger - William Blake

You may have heard the line (with modern spelling), "Tiger, tiger, burning bright". Here's the poem:

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare sieze the fire?

And what shoulder, & what art.
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? & what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears,
And watered heaven with their tears,
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

What's Up For This Year?

I didn't do nearly as much travelling last year on business, but still visited a lot of different places. I like the travel, especially by car ("I wanna go somewhere with you" is playing in the back of my head).

Here's a sample of what might happen:

  • Jan - Phil Keaggy in Rockford, IL

  • Jan - Visit to Hope College in Holland, MI

  • Feb - Annual sales meeting in San Diego, CA

  • Mar - Church band to Heartside in Grand Rapids, MI

  • Mar - SAP BW and Portals Conference in Las Vegas, NV

  • Apr - Visit Aunt Yolie in San Antonio, TX

  • May - Graduation at Hope College in Holland, MI

  • May - Open friends' cabin in Land O' Lakes, WI

  • Jun - Church band to Pecatonica, IL

  • Jul - Family reunion in St, Louis, MO

  • Aug - Vacation in Land O' Lakes, WI

  • Oct - Close cabin in Land O' Lakes, WI

  • ??? - Parents' Weekend at WIU in Macomb, IL

  • ??? - Visit college friends in southern Illinois

  • ??? - Training trip to Kirksville, MO

  • ??? - Training trip to Stuarts Draft, VA

  • ??? - Training trip to Nashville, TN