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Issue
4 August 2000
An Ezine
of Poetry, Humor, Recipes, Hints, Links
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2001
- Jan I- 8 Feb
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Monsters
There are monsters in my darkness
Monsters hiding near
Monsters with scary teeth
Monsters point and jeer.
There are monsters in my weakness
Monsters in my mind
Monsters in my lonliness
Monsters in my pride.
Help me slay the monsters
Help me turn them away
Help me tickle the nice ones
realize they only want to play.
Living my life with monsters
who take over my today
or living my life without them
a livable everyday.
Monsters have thier own names
like 'Pride' and 'Jealousy' and
'Mistrust'.
some are complex, some are simple
like 'Fear' and 'Insecure' and
'Lust'.
Naming my monsters helps me
understand their different needs.
In naming them I tame them
so no one is frightening. . . but
me.
---<--{© Marsha Steed
8/2k
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"The
arts are an even better barometer of what is happening in our
world
than the stock market or the debates in congress."
-Hendrik Willem
Van Loon, The Arts, on Art
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Link for the Week
~
Williams Holler
http://www.williamsholler.com/
The link for this month
is for those who enjoy music with a twist. There are wonderful origional
compositions to just muse to, or to reflect on.
GIve it a try.
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Chantaclair's
Musings
(My
apologies to those who have already been sent this) ~10 pm. The phone
rings. "Is this Derek's mother?"... my stomache
sinks,
one always, always dreads such calls. My fears are well founded
it seems,
"This is Sutter Memorial, we have your son in the Trama
unit."
Oh no, is he alive? Is he alright, is he going to be alright,
what
happened? "There has been an accident." What was he driving?
Was
he driving...
my car is still in the front yard. Who was with him, how
are they?
Questions come faster than they can be answered. Answers are
vauge,
unsatisfying. We fly out the door, noticing nothing but our destination.
"Why...
What.."
Going through our minds. The sight of the strong fiesty 17 year
old stretched
out on a board, with his neck in a collar and tubes
running
in and out of him is sobering. He is lucid, or nearly. He
repeats
over and over the same questions, "What time is it? Is Katie
alright?
Am I OK? Really, is Katie alright? I really like her.
What
time
is it? Am I grounded? Are you mad? " The doctor comes
in, first we were told that it was 'some abraisions'...
now it
seems that there is internal bleeding. Probably a ruptured
spleen.
His stomache is filled with blood and he has a gash about a
foot
long and about an inch wide on his right calf, to the bone.
Sutured,
surgery are the next words... then recovery, a week. Plans now change,
funny how life stops on a dime and everything shifts.
Family
is thought of, but as of yet, no one is called. We wait to
hear.
Talk to the young girlfriend. She is lucid, she says her foot
hurts,
but she seems more shaken than anything. I pray for her safety. What
do you tell a child in such a state? Knowing it was his own
inexperience
and cockiness that put him where he is? Indestructable, he
believes
himself unfallible, capable of handling things. Then the
worries
begin, a hug, and I am disolved. Decisions, papers to sign... a
life
to contemplate, gratitude for what *didn't* happen. Gratitude for
those
who invented seat-belts, for the drilling that resulted in him
wearing
it that night. Gratitude for a future that could have
evaporated,
and yet... concern. A streetlight that the city will now bill us for.
A friends '97 car
that
is now totaled. A young girl whose life was in danger, her parents
wrath
and pain. Driving with passengers on a restricted juvenille
license.
Unsafe speed. New cloths ruined... will these things matter?
Will
they be reflected upon? Will he learn anything? Worry. Surgery.
A surgeon, anetheseoligist who explains in too much
detail
what could happen. An old nurse with no compassion drilling us
and him
with questions. An internest with a ready smile and excellent
bedside
manner, nurses working tirelessly, professionally, and still
with
humor and a sparkle in their eye that speaks of thier caring...
their
love of what it is they have chosen to do with their lives.
Wonder.
Will he now choose something that will make his eyes sparkle,
will
he repay all of those who have supported him? Phone calls. Family
members awoken from sleep. Tears from a sister
just
moved across country within the week. Grandparents arriving,
friends
coming with sleepy parents who are supportive and kind. So much
to be
grateful for, so much to see in the true interworkings of this
existance
we call life. Threads what sparkle through the mundane to
show
what parts of our lives we have woven that have mattered. Those
golden
ones that hold everything else together. Family traveling
distances
just to come and be supportive. Will he see it? Will he see
his family,
or will only his friends matter? How do we teach him. Then... what
now. Do we try tough love, and remove his privaledges, do
we call
it inexperience and not recklessness? Do we make him pay for
his damages,
robing him of his freedom, or did he do that himself?
Natural
consequence. Pain... will that make him understand? Waiting.
Waiting. Friends come and we chat. Joke, tell stories.
What
else
is there when there is an under current of fear, of 'that could be
me'...
Youth sobered, grateful that it wasn't worse. Finally the doctor
comes
back. Too soon, he is an hour too soon... more instant dread.
Comforting
words from a very straightforward surgeon. They can't be
emotional.
Fixing bodies is what they do, like fixing cars, or
repairing
elelctrical faults. Technical terms, a lifetime of elbows
length
gloves of other peoples blood. Can he know of my gratitude for
his years
of study, for his dedication to his craft, that he can do what
I am
helpless to do? He will be paid, and yet... there is something
magical
about all of it, mysterious and awesome. The news is good.
He
will
be fine. They had to remove the spleen, infection is now a much
greater
risk, a lifetime of innoculations and pnenomia fear. Still, he
is alive
and limpid, coming out feisty. We visit with him. He is thirsty.
Onery. Loving, fearful, grateful,
tender.
He kisses my hand and apologizes. I am flooded with gratitude
and love
for him. He is like a little boy. My little boy. He thanks
his friends
for coming, apologizes for worring them. They let another
come
in. There is a heart monitor attatched to his right arm, on his
index
finger is a red light... his friend enters, and he lifts up his
finger...
touches Jeremy's belly... "ET phone home..." He is going to be alright.
Marsha
Steed 8/10/2000
Musings on
an accident
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Tip for the Month
~
GLASS CLEANER
1 Quart Water
2 Tablespoons Ammonia or Vinegar
1/4 teaspoon liquid dishwashing detergent
1/2 cup rubbing alcohol . .
.
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Your Money
~
Whirlpool (WHR: NYSE)
Shares in the appliance maker could be boosted Monday by a
report in the latest edition of financial weekly Barron's that said
the stock is undervalued. The report said
Whirlpool shares trade at a low price-earnings
ratio compared with competitors such as
Maytag (MYG: NYSE)
and added that the company has a strong international
business, with 40% of its sales
outside North America. The report also noted that Whirlpool has posted
20% growth in quarterly operating profits for the last 15 quarters. Whirlpool
shares rose 13/16 on Friday
to close at 43 3/16.
.
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Humor
~A young man wanted to get his beautiful
blonde wife something
nice for their first wedding anniversary. So he decides to buy
her a cell phone. She is all excited, she loves her phone.
He
shows her and explains to her all the features on the phone.
The next day the wife goes shopping. Her phone rings and it's
her husband, "Hi hun," he says "how do you like your new phone?"
She replies "I just love it, it's so small and your voice
is
clear as a bell but there's one thing I don't understand though."
"What's that, baby?" asks the husband.
"How did you know I was at Wal- Mart?"
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Quick and Easy
~
GOOEY TURTLE BARS
1/2 cup butter -- melted
1-1/2 cups vanilla wafer crumbs
2 cups semisweet chocolate chips
1 cup pecans -- chopped
12 ounces caramel topping
Combine butter and wafer crumbs in a 13- x 9-
x 2-inch baking pan; press into bottom of pan. Sprinkle with chocolate
morsels and pecans. Remove lid from caramel topping; microwave at HIGH
1 to 1-1/2 minutes or until hot, stirring after 30 seconds. Drizzle over
pecans. Bake at 350 degrees F. for 12 to 15 minutes or until morsels melt;
cool in pan on a wire rack. Chill at least 30 minutes; cut into squares.
Yield: about 2 dozen
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Quote for the Month
~
- " Suffice it to quote the answer which Anatole France gave to a philistine
who admired his library and then finished with the standard question, "and
have you read all these books, Monsieur France?" "Not one-tenth of
them. I don't suppose ;you use your S'evres china every day?"
For us biblioholics out there...
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