A Memorial Day Poem

I’ve been to Arlington National Cemetery three times in my life.  The first time was on a cold mid-December day.  While on a break from a conference, I boarded a Tourmobile. There were three of us on that bus, the driver, the tour guide and me.  I told the guide that I wanted to see the Tomb of the Unknown.  She looked at her watch and said I could just make the next changing of the guard.

There were four of us at the Tomb, the guard on duty, the relief guard, the officer of the guard and me in the stands with my camera.  As they started the solemn ritual, but my raised camera felt wrong and I lowered it.  Remaining standing, I watched as the guard was changed with a gentle snow falling, and a cold breeze starting.

I remained with the new guard as he walked his post for a few minutes before I retreated to the Tourmobile stop.

I wrote the following poem about that afternoon and it remains my only memory of Arlington as my camera remained in its case until I crossed the bridge back to the mall.

Twenty-one Guns

The tour bus rumbles past
the quiet monuments to the fallen.
Shutters click as the tour guide
speaks the litany of the shrine,
that once was the Lee estate.
Now it is that hallowed ground
where solders come for that long rest.

The Quick rumble passed the carved stones
of the Dead, that once placed
boots of war on their feet.
Their soles now silent.
Now day-trippers take aim and fire.
Cameras, not rifles.
Pictures, not prisoners taken.

The bus stops. The microphone is silent.
To the left a horse pulls a caisson carrying a flag-draped box
That contains a name who once walked.
The warrior sent at our command.
The sightseer sees and falls silent
And hears the echo of guns.
Three volleys and then the mournful notes.

Boys became men
And men became names
And names became graves
Gone is the sun,
Day is done.
God is Nigh.

Posted in General, Poems | Tagged , , , , | 26 Comments

Cats

There are five cats in our household and we had just about got them all trained and behaving well, when last Saturday one of them started acting weird.  “Spotty girl” was extra fussy, affectionate, rubbing her head on everything, crying, and holding her backside up in the air.  All classic signs of being in heat.  Her behavior was affecting the other cats and the kitties and humans were all on edge.

So it was off to the vet to try to figure out why a spayed cat is in heat.  Theoretically, once you remove the reproductive parts, girl kitties don’t go looking for boy kitties in that way.  Well, after a bit of web searching and conversation with our vet, turns out it’s possible that the original spay operation may have left some female parts inside.

We managed to get our Spotty kitty scheduled for surgery last Tuesday.  Our vet found an entire ovary was left behind by the surgeon at the animal shelter where the spay was done last summer.  Our vet removed it, but I think he was a little hurt when I declined to take home the little test tube where he’d placed the offending ovary.  I explained, again, that we hadn’t paid for the first procedure so the evidence of error wasn’t going to be that useful to me as I had no intention of confronting the shelter people.

Since Tuesday we’ve had to keep our little patient separated from her siblings who don’t understand the concept of, “your sister has just had surgery and you can’t play chase and fight with her.”  The separation hasn’t been met with joy and has been a source of human and kitty stress.

As if that wasn’t enough kitty fun, our senior cat, Spirit had her six month senior check up on Thursday, which resulted in a rather large number of lab tests as we suspect she has kidney disease.  Have you ever had to get a urine sample, from a cat, for your vet?  I won’t go in to details.  Somethings are better not known unless you really, really need to know.

Either Myself or Heather, have been at the vet’s office every day this week except Wednesday.

Today life is somewhat better in the house.  Spotty is recovering and we’re allowing some play-time between the siblings, I finished Spirit’s new kitty tower, and I’ve delayed my retirement plans for a couple of years so I can finish paying all the vet bills we racked up this month.

The cats are cute and expensive.  Let’s just say the vet now has a down payment on that new car he’s thinking about.

Next week I’ll have pictures of the new room we’re having the contractor build for our kitties.

Till next week,
Andrew

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Wednesday Upholstery – The Saga of the Tower

Life’s been a bit weird around here the last few days, so I haven’t had much time in the shop.  Had to take one of our kitties in for an unexpected surgery yesterday and the whole household of cats and people are just plain stressed out by the events.  I’ll have more about that in my Sunday post.  I did get a few hours over the weekend but rather than wood, I did a little upholstery work on the kitty tower:

Most of the carpet is on.  Just a couple of legs to figure out.

Most of the carpet is on. Just a couple of legs to figure out.

The only things left are a couple of legs.  You’ll note that there are two different carpets here.  Turns out that I seriously underestimated the amount of carpet I’d need so I had to buy another piece for that nice two-tone effect.  I also bought more rope to do another leg.  Here again I decided to be different and bought a thicker rope.

I didn’t mean to buy thicker rope.  I simply forgot what size I had bought before, but I think the end result is, umm… artistic.  Yup, that’s the word artistic.

Here’s inside of one of the bed trays:

Where the kitty gets to sleep.

Where the kitty gets to sleep.

Just need to cover the remaining legs.

It’s been a time-consuming project, but I’ve learned a lot about making cat towers.

No, I am not going to start making them to sell at craft fairs or Esty or Ebay.  No, just, no.

If you need me – I’ll be in the shop.
Andrew

Posted in woodworking | Tagged , , , | 18 Comments

Writing for Rejection

This week there are about 20 different pieces of writing floating around my brain and four of them are actually open in windows on my computer, each in a different state of progress.  One is a set of notes on something I am researching.  One is half complete – stalled with a difficult transition.  One is resting, and one old project keeps tickling my brain asking for me to return.

This is the ebb and flow of writing for me.  It’s never a situation where I start a single project and march dutifully to the end.  There’s a life cycle to each project that generally follows the pattern of, concept, research, first draft, second draft, rest, and then either post to my blog, or delete.  This week there seems to be more stuff in early stages rather than near the end.

Once in a while I think about why I am writing and what my goals really are with this whole practice?  Last week I was remembering some of my early desires to be a writer with a capital ‘W’.  You know, the well-known novelist who makes a living writing books, short stories and doing personal appearances with the odd college commencement speech.  In my 20’s I even made a small attempt at it.  I wrote a handful of science fiction short stories and mailed them to some magazines.  I even attended a few writer’s workshops and took a couple of classes.

I can now say that I’ve been rejected by some of the best science fiction magazines in the world.  I can also admit that most of those stories were genuinely awful.  I also now realize that I was more interested in getting published than in perfecting my writing skills.  Now, decades later I see that improving my writing should have been the first task.

These days I am starting to feel differently about my writing.  As I start on my fourth year of blogging, there is a confidence building my sessions at the keyboard and from time to time I actually think I’ve written something good.   I’ve spent a lot of effort in the last decade working on my writing skills and feel that effort is starting to pay off.  I don’t want to sound egotistical here, but I do write better today than my 20 year-old self did.

As I gain some measure of confidence, the old desire to get some work published has been returning.  I know I’ll never make a living as a writer, but there is a certain sense of accomplishment that happens when your work is selected by an editor.  It’s one of the things on my “todo” list, that is now becoming important to me.

So, using everything I know about writing and publishing, I’ve decided to make a more dedicated attempt at getting my writing published.  There are two basic things that have to happen to make this happen, writing things that are of a quality to get published and actually submitting them to editors who would publish it.

Sounds simple enough, but there is nothing as complex as simplicity.

There is also the reality that most writers get most of their work rejected.  It’s that rejection that becomes the barrier to many writers and myself too.  It’s far to easy to take the editor’s rejection personally.  Most of the time it isn’t.  Editors get thousands of submissions and can only publish a few.  Even if you have great writing, chances are it won’t get published.

My plan is simple, write one or two publishable pieces of writing (poems, short stories, essays, etc) a month and then submit them to appropriate publications.  Then I’ll sit back and collect the rejection notices.  My goal is to have 50 rejections by the end of the year.

It’s a bit of a head game, but it’ll helps lessen the blow of a rejection note.

and who knows, maybe out of all that activity I’ll connect with that one editor with the one poem their publication needs.

For the record, I currently have two pieces submitted and so far have had two rejections.  I’ll post the totals as the results come in.

Till next week,
Andrew

Posted in Writing | Tagged , , | 31 Comments