Hannah's Choice

Hannah’s Choice

By Jeffrey Bowen

Hannah stood there high above

The campus parking lot. 
I'm sure she felt despair,

But no one knows quite why or when

She lost the will to care.

Maybe she had cared too much

And couldn't find a path to peace.
But something held her prisoner,
And troubling dreams
Refused to cease.

I lived too many worlds away.

There was nothing I could do.

We’d never met,
 She never heard

The words I wish she knew.

The papers said her suicide

Was considered very likely.

Her facebook page disclosed no clues.

Her life shone clear and brightly.

We look for causes,
 Seek some signs
When something dies inside a soul.
A happy life can fade away
When illness takes a psychic toll.

I surely wish that I had met you.

I feel so bad about your fate.

I see the promise in your smile,

I was just too late

If I had only had the chance

To help you face your fight,

At least together we'd have known 
Why you chose to take your flight.

My Sweet Seaweed Maiden

My Sweet Seaweed Maiden

by Jeff Bowen

July 2016

I can't quite remember

What inspired that day,

Or why we were thinking

You'd look good that way.

But the moment still holds me

Near when we first met,

My seaweeded maiden

Decorated by bet.

Our emotions ran strong.

Youth quickened our pace.

Now the feelings rest gently

In the smile on your face.

So the image abides

Like some digital ghost.

Even though we got lost

On the way to the coast,

The picture can find us

And bring us back home

To a place that reminds us

Of the feelings we own. 

MY WISH WAS A GARGOYLE’S COMMAND

By Jeffrey M. Bowen

As a general rule, the older you get, the more difficult it becomes for relatives to come up with a unique present for your birthday.  To give me a grand entrance to my seventh decade, my wife and daughter blew this rule apart.  The result squats in our back yard, grinning fiercely and looking like the devil.  His name is Gondor.  He weighs hundreds of pounds and isn’t going anywhere soon.

Ever since I saw the first “Ghostbusters” movie, where stony griffins on an apartment building suddenly break through their shells and turn into drooling dog monsters, I have been intrigued by gargoyles, grotesques, and chimeras.  There are differences among these terms, but most of us lump them together.  

Last spring a visit to our daughter in Albany took us to a downtown salvage yard.  Standing alone amid a collection of 50 concrete RCA dogs all strangely peering in the same direction, I spotted a large grisly creature crouched on a pedestal, with head-high wings sprouting from his back.  His deep-set eyes seemed to glow and follow me wherever I wandered.  His ears were huge and hairy, and his gnarly teeth were fixed in an evil grin.  I casually remarked to my kin, “Gee wouldn’t he look great in our yard?” 

 A few months later, my family remembered my wish and returned to rescue the creature from the salvage yard.   They were told no one knew which Albany building he flew down from, but after purchasing the creature at a bargain price, they it was discovered he would not budge.  After all, he was made of concrete and weighed some 600 pounds.  

Ultimately, a forklift got the creature elevated.   Eventually he was lashed onto the bed of our son-in-law’s pick-up so that my daughter and her kids could transport the gargoyle to our country home.   He created a minor sensation on the Thruway as he stared menacingly back at anyone tailgating too close.  Many who passed the truck drew even and waved delightedly at our family.  It took four grunting, sweating men to unload my present onto a concrete pad from which he can grimace at cornfields and startle traffic.

 Based on books that came along with him as presents, it seems that these creatures originated as the works of stonemasons and sculptors during the Gothic period in the 12^th and 13^th centuries, especially in France.  Gracing cathedrals, with holes in their mouths or elsewhere, their purpose was mainly to drain water off the steep roofs.  Hence, the term “gargoyle” which means drain or gutter.  I suspect the term is also related to gargling and gurgling as well. 

Grotesques or chimeras actually have no holes but are also featured on European rooflines and doorways.  They are taken usually to mean fantastic combinations of human and animal figures.  Historians of this offspring suggests that stonemasons may have built them into rooflines of churches either to scare off or provoke evil spirits or to snub noses at the rich donors who funded cathedrals.  Today hundreds of these eccentric sculptures perch unnoticed on city facades and peer down at the traffic.  Novelist Stephen King, who prefaced a book on the subject, firmly believes they are alive.

Inspired by my unique present, I conducted a facebook contest to give him a name.  Gondor, the middle kingdom in Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings, won the moniker.  We decorated Gondor with a red ribbon at Christmas.  He stared at us balefully, but never uttered a word.  I surely hope he never does. 

The Snapper Who Loved Classical Music
Several ancient snapping turtles inhabit our three-acre pond out in cornfield country near Machias, New York.  Weighing at least 30 pounds, after several decades of chomping pond weeds, minnows, and probably a few Canada goose eggs, the snappers seldom leave our pond.  When they do, however, they look absolutely prehistoric, with encrusted shells and massive jaws.  We see them climb out once in a while in late spring when fertility prompts them to find a sandy or moist spot to dig holes and lay eggs.  Perhaps in part they are just enjoying the sunshine and freedom from the dingy pond bottom.
     One big snapper regularly decides to take a swim in our pool.  It is nearly impossible to lift her out with either a pool net or shovel as she is so heavy.  It is also risky business.  She gets testy and bites our tools with her threatening mandibles.  By sheer, happy coincidence, we discovered a solution.
      One day we happened to tune in some classical music on the poolside portable radio.  Leaving the pool and returning a little later, we found our snapper had negotiated the pool stairs and had nestled up to the table beneath the radio.  From there we could sort of push and roll her 50 yards back down to the pond.  Nearly every day she  returned for her pool swim.  Inspired by our discovery, we entertained her by playing classical music.  It worked like a charm every time.  She would find her way to the radio, but strangely enough, she would not respond at all either to rock and roll or to western music.  We speculate it was the violins that appealed to her.
     Mean and homely as she certainly was, Mrs. Snapper had a unique affinity for music, and we had a reliable way to prevent the worry of climbing into our  pool with a 30 hard-boiled gal looking up from the depths.  
 

https://drive.google.com/file/d/0Bzthk5Qxb0edQ2VlOUVuOWhQS0wtWWhkSmJhLXhBWXNWcWJF/view?usp=sharing  This links you to a recent poem I wrote about a nightmare that compares the inauguration of our new president to the experience of watching the Lusitania sink.

Why Is the Best Question

Why Is the Best Question By Jeffrey M. Bowen We are much better at answering questions of who, what, when and where than answering WHY. Motives and interpretation lurk beneath the question why and this can muddy the waters for everyone. It is natural to seek mindfulness and reason in the acts and ideas of others. Yet just as predictably we lie to ourselves and others when we try to explain our own actions or beliefs. If science is applied, the answers to why can be hypothesized and proven, but pursuits like romance and religion may shroud the answers in mystery. Consider the whys found in the old song, “Tell me why the stars do shine, tell me why the ivy twines...." The composer credits both love and God in his lyrics, but as science fiction writer Isaac Asimov observed, nuclear fusion and tropisms provide more grounded but less exciting answers. Whatever your perspective, for me asking why has been a lifelong journey toward understanding. When we ask why, mostly we hope for simple, specific answers. But when contentious problems or policy issues arise, the why question spawns not just philosophical disagreements, but sometimes warfare. Active listening while remaining open-minded can help reduce risks. As a history teacher I urged my students to think long and hard about developing what we called essential questions without easy answers so their research might stimulate original thinking and real understanding. Pushing them to ask why provoked blank stares at first but with guidance the students usually waded beyond simple yes, no, or could-be responses. How I wish today's standardized state tests were designed to do this. Why escapes us when we dehumanize others. With disastrous implications given today's refugee exodus from Syria and Afghanistan, we try to answer why by assuming large groups of unidentified people have no minds at all. We say they lack emotions, needs, or awareness like ours, and therefore may be no more than savages who could harm us. However, when we meet and talk with them individually, a more sympathetic relationship usually comes to light. We discover everyone is human after all. I experienced this revelation when I attended a multicultural education workshop some years ago. The facilitator brought a culturally diverse group of individuals to the stage, and then, with their permission, she asked each person to state their name and tell the audience about the origins of their family. Thus we became vividly aware of both their diversity and their universality. Another self-deception comes from giving human characteristics to inanimate objects or animals of all kinds. A large photo of a silver-haired gorilla hangs on our wall. A resident of the Buffalo Zoo, he seems to be smiling mischievously at anyone who passes by. Actually, after taking a picture of him lying down, I hung the picture vertically, which had the effect of making him seem to smile. I like to think he really is, but it is more likely he had a gas bubble. We want to make things human so we can explain them in our own terms. By embracing the worlds of why, we can become depressingly negative if we focus just on ourselves ("Why me, God?"), or assertively upbeat ("Why can't we do this?"). I happen to believe that asking why is a direct route to learning. It signals a curious mind, solves mysteries more than just creating them. But it has its dangers when it tempts us to think we are right and others are stupid. The best general rule for why-askers is to pose the question and then be ready to stop, reflect, and be honest about what we hear or see.

First Thoughts

This is my first entry to a blog I have set up to share thoughts and pictures.  I love to write, especially with a slant toward education, healthy communities, and related research.  I also truly enjoy photography and have been taking photos for many years.  Both of these interests have been expressed abundantly on facebook.  However, posting articles I have written, and making them readily available to friends, is not particularly easy to do on facebook.  Nor are pictures I have posted particularly easy to access in collections over a period of time.  Finally, it is limiting to post both text and pictures together on facebook. There is truth to the notion that you really don't know what you think or see until you write it, reflect on it, or take a picture of it.  Ultimately, my hope is that this blog will give focus and clarity to my own thinking and photos.  A bonus would be your reactions or additions to what I post.  So here goes the blog "experiment".  Hope  at least a few of you will find it enjoyable and stimulating. I have no doubt I will.  This is an outlet I have been seeking.

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