year end reflection
long sigh of resignation
hope comes at midnight
The Daily Post daily prompt: Hopeful
auld lang
2
Author Archives: Maggie C
Streetwise
pothole oasis
resilient perennial
midst asphalt desert
The Daily Post weekly photo challenge: Resilient
Strong as Iron
“After arriving from China my dad took a year to save enough money working in San Francisco and he then walked to Astoria.” [ 718 miles ]
“My grandfather brought home salmon cheeks, a delicacy to the Chinese but a waste to the cannery owners.”
“He was a veteran of World War 2 and the Korean war and he filmed breaking stories on the coast for news stations and he was the official photographer for the Miss Oregon pageant.”
“We went to American school in the daytime and Chinese school in the evening.”
“My mother graduated with a college degree but Chinese women seldom had job opportunities so she…”
“Grandma said dad was so sick on the boat from China that he would have been fed to the fish if he had died. Now a seafood lab is named after him for the fish feed that he and his team developed.”
“The tongs formed in the 1870s and grew to as many as nine but began to disappear in the 1930s. Remaining tongs were known more for their…”
“Chinatown was like a playground. We had no…”
These photos were taken at the Garden of Surging Waves, a city park in Astoria, Oregon, which was built to honor and celebrate the Chinese heritage of that area. The Story Screen in these photos is an iron structure that includes the entry gate, and these large panels that tell about the hardships, struggles and contributions of some of the Chinese immigrants in Astoria as well as their descendants who remained in the area and who continue to be vital components in the fabric of the community.
The Daily Post weekly photo challenge: Resilient
Light Bulb Moment
One of my favorite posts from 2016 was one I wrote for a second blog of mine, Glass Manifestations. I won’t be posting any recap for the year on that site, mostly because I only averaged a little over one post per month (excluding the month I participated in the “A through Z” challenge). I hope to be more active with that blog next year, but in the meantime I wanted to repost this story from April 12, 2016 for my Stanza readers. I hope you enjoy it.
Light Bulb Moment
So I had a “light bulb moment” the other day. You know, that moment when you have a sudden realization, an enlightenment of sorts, when the metaphorical light bulb turns on in your brain and you say, “Aha!”
Oh wait… that’s an “aha moment.” But anyway, that light bulb moment when you are struck with a sudden insight or inspiration that leads you on to new discoveries?
Yeah… that’s not what I’m talking about.
I’m talking about a real light bulb. You know… bulbous, light-producing… something that you screw into a socket so that someone doesn’t come along and stick their finger in it. That kind of light bulb.
Okay, on to my moment. I bought a light bulb that is supposed to have a 27 year life span. I can’t remember how much I paid for it. That memory is probably repressed to protect me from the trauma.
Nor can I remember what I was thinking when I decided that I needed this acme of amperage, this wonder of wattage, this lion of lumens.
Perhaps I just felt that, at some point in my dotage, I might want to switch on a lamp, and I could rest in ease knowing that my trusty light bulb would be there waiting to brighten my day. Or night.
So here I was, in possession of this almost ageless light bulb, and – as luck would have it – there was a burnt out bulb in one of my lamps. A perfect opportunity to begin my decades-long relationship with Brighton. (I figured if we were going to be together that long, the light bulb should have a name.)
I pulled Brighton out of my light bulb storage area (I seem to have quite a collection of light bulbs), and began wrestling with the packaging that was doggedly defending Brighton from harm. With a sudden shift of surrender, the packaging gave way, the bulb sprang free…
and began its unstoppable freefall to the hardwood floor.
The bulb crashed to the floor. My dog Chules came running to see what happened. I began to have visions of doggie blood spurting everywhere if Chules stepped on shards of Brighton. In one swift motion, I pushed Chules aside and bent down to assess the damage.
There lay Brighton. In one piece. On the floor. Where he landed after a four foot long plunge.
I tenderly picked Brighton up, held him to my ear, and gently shook him to see if I could hear that tinkling little noise that light bulbs make when their filament has broken. Mind you, with Brighton being the Superbulb that he is, I don’t even know if he has a filament. But I figured no sound is good sound.
I took Brighton to my bulb-less lamp and with trepidation screwed him into the socket. Holding my breath, I reached with quaking hand to flip the switch.
And then there was light!!!! Brighton’s alive! Metaphorically speaking, of course.
As I sit here basking in Brighton’s warm glow, I have every confidence that we will be together for a long, long time.
Hey, wait! Did someone turn out the lights? Brighton…?
Brighton?!?
Look What I Found!
This week’s Discover Challenge at The Daily Post asks us to look back at our blog posts for this past year and find a way to build on or synthesize our best work of 2016.
My best work? Well, having only managed a single post for most of the months this year, the “best” of it becomes a rather short list. Nonetheless, I’ve taken on the challenge of using lines from previous posts to create a “found poem.” Here it is:
Glass Scraps
Things aren’t always what they seem.
You can’t sleep on glass, you know.
Does it matter what smashed it?
I really don’t know how it feels to sleep in a ditch,
having never done so. That I recall.
Chewing on lead… bad idea.
What? You think?
Tell that to your Scrabble companions!
Stuff seems to seek us out at every port,
clinging to us like barnacles on a boat.
Take hostas for example. You know,
those green leafy plants that don’t look like ferns.
They do have a certain je ne sais quoi about them, no?
Or maybe a coagulation of gunked up motor oil
stuck to the floor of a mechanic’s garage.
You know how that is, right?
I never goosed anything, quantum or otherwise.
Since I’m too impatient to do all of that,
that session was cut short once the rock shrapnel
began pummeling the inside lining of my kiln.
Okay, I made that last part up.
This is starting to sound like that twine theory stuff.
Much better than the exploding rock episode.
So what is the significance of all of this?
If you can’t stand the heat,
don’t touch the tip of the soldering iron.
But where’s the fun in that?
If Dart has instilled in you a crippling fear of Tiffany lamp shades,
and since that seemed boring as all get out –
well… his work here is done.
The Daily Post’s Discover Challenge: Retrospective
Wordless Wednesday (Week 52)
Image
On the Cusp
As one year ends and another queues up for its grand opening, we sometimes find ourselves pin-balling from remembrances of the year(s) gone by, to plans and hopes and dreams for the year(s) ahead. For now I’m indulging myself in parsing the 2016 posts I wrote for the What Rhymes with Stanza blog. Planning for next year’s posts will come soon enough.
Yesterday, I posted a retrospect of 2016 using photos I’d taken throughout the year. Today, I’m taking on a suggestion from The Daily Post’s Discover Challenge which also relates to looking back over the past years’ worth of blogging, only this time with words.
One of the ideas presented in the Challenge was to write a “found poem” using lines from past posts. I’ve only attempted a found poem once before, and determined that it would have perhaps best remained lost.
But, hey… I’ll try anything twice. Hence, a “remix” of some lines taken from poems I wrote in 2016:
On the Cusp
With each passing day the past grows ever longer
even though we already cannot fathom its span.
History will always be defined by the lens
through which each one of us perceives.
You can’t get to where you’re going
until you’ve come from where you came.
It takes but one misstep to reset trajectory.
With each dawning day the present forgives us and
offers a clean slate to create what we choose.
Actions speak louder than words.
Non-action can speak just as loudly.
Leap, simply because you can.
The Daily Post Discover Challenge: Retrospective
Down the Path in 2016
At the beginning of this year, instead of making New Year’s resolutions, I chose a theme for the year. My theme was “magic.” Of course by February I’d totally forgotten about the whole theme thing, but I would say that 2016 has indeed been magical on several levels.
As some other bloggers have done, I’ve chosen 12 photos, one from each month of this year, and am sharing them here today. They are snapshots of the magic that was 2016.
January came in rainy and grey, but there are always patches of color underfoot. Mind the steps; they’re slippery.
February: Spring tries to rush things, as these daffodils bravely poke up from the cold ground in late winter.
March: Combining color and creativity is always magical.
April begins filling out nature’s beautiful spring palette.
May: Beauty in art and animals.
June: Warm, expansive days encourage outdoor activity.
July: The heat (and plants) get a little prickly. But just a little.
August: Those lazy, hazy days of summer.
September: Shadows begin lengthening, but there’s still plenty of time to get out and play.
October: Time to break out the warmer (and waterproof) clothing.
November: Grey skies return, and the last vestiges of autumn defy the rain and wind.
December: Snow is rare where I live, so one must make the most of what little we get.
The seasons followed their usual path in 2016, but these photos each carry a reminder of special moments, special places, special people, and the magic of a year well played.
My theme for next year? I’m still pondering that. I can’t determine the path down which 2017 will take me, but I can certainly choose my company and mindset. I plan to choose wisely.
Do you have a theme for 2017? Resolutions?
The Daily Post weekly photo challenge: Path
the ties (or glues) that bind
Merry Christmas from our house to yours!
There’s been no holiday baking in my kitchen this year. Counter tops and back splashes are ripped out, the range is covered with a paint tarp, wires dangle where light fixtures used to hang… and in general it looks as though Home Depot exploded all over the kitchen.
I can’t seem to remember in which boxes I packed which things to store out of the way for the kitchen remodel, and I couldn’t find any tape to secure the wrapping paper on Christmas gifts. Not to worry, though. Wood glue and trigger clamps did the trick nicely.
My dog Chules got a nice treat from Santa Paws. Judging by his newly acquired black snout, I’m guessing the treat is now buried somewhere in the dirt of the back yard.
My cat Sebastian got some goodies from Santa Claws as well, but judging from his glazed stare, it looks like maybe he dipped into the egg nog when I wasn’t looking.
I’ve had a wonderful day spent with my beautiful family, eating great food (obviously not prepared in my kitchen), sharing good memories and creating lovely new ones.
I hope your holidays are as blessed as mine!
at the very least
One ring,
two Chinese characters,
how many meanings?
I didn’t know, and so I asked.
Second symbol first:
goodness,
kindness,
charity,
… I was told.
First one second:
it goes without saying…
absolutely…
at the very least…
It’s hard to explain,
I was told.
So many things in life are hard to explain, and so
we often devise our own explanations,
our own definitions.
What does it mean to say, “I’m fine?”
One sentence,
two words,
how many meanings?
I often don’t know, but I seldom ask.
I want to change that, to show more charity,
kindness and goodness;
to listen to your explanations
and belay my own fabrications
at the very least.
As for the ring, perhaps it’s telling me
when life is hard to explain and hard to define,
there is one course of action
that is always right.
In those two characters, I choose to read,
“Above all else, be kind.”
The Daily Post discover challenge: Hope Gone Viral
What Rhymes with Stanza? 