100th Post! 100 Things I Like...

This is my 100th post on this blog! Little did I know all those years ago that I would be having this much fun sharing all my random thoughts with the world... or at least with my mom and the five other people who regularly read this blog.

I decided I would do a post about 100 random things I like... in no order, no rhyme or reason... These are not my top 100 things, or an exhaustive list of things I like. I just typed out everything as it came to me, and sometimes saying one thing I liked made me think of something else. Also I did some linking in case you like these things too.

Now on to the list!

1. Sleeping with lots of pillows
2. Baby name books
3. Libraries
4. Popcorn at the movie theater
5. Writing blogs
6. Shel Silverstein
7. Swimming
8. Artisan & Craft fairs
9. Leggings
10. Kraft Macaroni & Cheese
11. Red airheads
12. Getting stupid-excited about the Twilight movie
13. Kristin Wiig on SNL
14. Driving
15. Chubby cheeks on babies
16. Scalding-hot showers
17. Really bright red fall trees
18. Taking pictures
19. Target
20. Shredding papers
21. Guinea pigs
22. The music of Leeland, especially "Sound of Melodies"
23. Watching figure skating
24. My graphic designers I work with
25. Cookies & Cream icecream from Braum's
26. Snow
27. The really snarky writing on Gossip Girl
28. Exclamation points
29. Writing and receiving real letters
30. When Heather calls at 9 pm and asks if I want to go to Sonic
31. The movie "Can't Hardly Wait"
32. Estee Lauder's Beautiful Sheer & Ralph Lauren Romance perfumes
33. Garth Brooks
34. Hugging my dad after I haven't seen him in a long time
35. Acoustic guitar driven music
36. Celebrity gossip
37. Scruffy and how cute he is
38. The St. Louis Zoo
39. LOST
40. Daydreaming of working for a really cool company like Google or Pixar
41. T-shirts with pockets
42. Fresh flowers
43. Calvin & Hobbes
44. Knowing all the words to Kanye West's "Golddigger"
45. Re-reading books I love
46. The words to hymns
47. Michaelangelo's Pieta
48. Holidays
49. Having parties at my house
50. 1 John 3:1
51. Horses
52. Going to art museums and remembering all the art history I learned
53. Apples with peanut butter
54. My momma
55. Traveling to new places
56. Being barefoot
57. Getting a haircut
58. Fuji Apple Chicken Salad from Panera
59. Baz Luhrmann movies
60. The city of Chicago
61. Cello
62. Being goofy with Ben
63. Scrapbooking
64. Shopping for scrapbooking stuff
65. Potatoes
66. Children's books
67. Going to a St. Louis Cardinals baseball game in Busch Stadium
68. Headbands
69. Cute flat shoes
70. Quoting shows and movies I love
71. Steve Carell
72. Purple irises
73. My red purse
74. When kids say funny things
75. French fries from Kriegers with extra seasoning
76. Mountains
77. Doing laundry
78. Being "outdoorsy" through kayaking
79. When people have a funny laugh
80. Office supplies
81. My friend Rob & his family
82. Jason Mraz
83. Watching college football
84. Finding people on Facebook and looking at their pictures
85. When Jesus heals the little girl in Mark 5
86. The smell of outside in the spring
87. Milk
88. When my whole family is together at Christmas
89. Wearing jeans
90. Nicknames
91. Reading in the bathroom
92. Chips and cheese dip
93. Falling asleep to rain and thunder
94. Mark Rothko's color field paintings
95. Looking at beautiful wedding pictures
96. The X-Files
97. Getting a pedicure
98. Needtobreathe
99. Natural lighting
100. Taking naps

Please

Oh God
I'm just a fool
And today I am bound up in all my insufferable humanity
It clings to everything I touch
Culture-numbed, world-weary
I take delight in all the things I hate
And I am utterly unable to manifest a desire to seek Your face.

But my name is written on Your heart, hallelujah
I can't help but believe in You
Please tell me that counts for something.

Observations from a Long Drive

Yesterday I drove myself home from St. Louis to Nashville. It was a beautiful fall afternoon and I had a good six hours to myself. Well, Scruffy was in the car with me but he's not much for conversation. So I listened to all the music I wanted to and came up with some very random observations which I will share with you now.

***

1. Heartland
There is something really spectacular about rolling fields of wheat and corn and how it all glows and moves under fall sun and wind. Green and gold and brown, just folding out in squares across the landscape, dotted with a farm here, a little pond there...

When my sister was younger, she had this fascination with running in a field. Every time we passed an open pasture area she would sigh and say how she wished Dad would stop the car so she could just go run in that field. Yesterday, driving under an open sky of brilliant blue and through the beauty of the American Heartland, I totally know what she meant.

2. Airheads
I really love Airheads candy. This is odd because I am not a fan of fruity candies usually, and I don't really like taffy or anything like that. But I love Airheads. I could eat about a hundred red ones and still want more.


3. "Stand By Me," sung by Ben E. King
I decided after listening to it for the millionth time that "Stand By Me" is one of the greatest love songs ever. It is utterly simple - the words, the instrumentation, the structure. But good grief is it romantic - and even a little sexy, with the "bum, bum, ba-da bum bum" rhythm. Stand by me, no matter what else happens, and we'll be okay. Man, that's good stuff.

4. National Dead Deer Weekend?
I don't know what the deal was, but yesterday I saw probably - no exaggeration - more than 15 deer and/or partial deer carcasses lining the highway across my 300 mile drive. In my nearly eight years of driving back and forth between Nashville and STL I have never experienced this. One dead deer laying by the side of the road, unpleasant but it happens. But halves of deers and decapitated deers and bloody smears formerly known as deers... ugh. It got to be really gross and had me wondering what was going on with the deer population's sudden and tragic love affair with my particular stretch of highway?!

5. Vampire Weekend
I had Ben load their much-ballyhooed debut album up on my iPod and around Paducah decided to have a listen...

I give them an "A" for interesting instrumentation and a creative different sound. I give them a C- for how much I actually liked the album. I listened to at least 30-seconds of every track... unfortunately it was often because I could only stand 30 seconds at a time. After the hundredth repetition of a kooky staccato riff I just couldn't take it any more. I did like some of the string sections.

6. Cello
The cello is my all-time favorite instrument. It is so powerfully emotive - subtle, almost an undercurrent in many songs, but totally shouldering the weight of moving and feeling. Fun fact: my husband Ben played the cello for seven years growing up. Even now when he plays guitar he moves his fingers like he is playing the cello. But, despite the fact that it is my favorite thing, despite years of begging, he has never once played the cello for me. He claims he doesn't remember. I think he is a big fat mean liar.

7. How Did I Get to Be So Old
At the wedding I was in this weekend, we reminisced about how the couple had gone to the Homecoming dance together our freshman year of high school. I was stunned when someone mentioned, "Who would've thought eleven years ago we'd be here now celebrating their wedding." Woah woah woah. Do you mean to tell me it has been ELEVEN YEARS since I was a high school freshman?!!?! (Silent mental calculations...) But that means... I. Am. Old.

I thought about that for a good while in the car. Being a grown up. Shudder.

8. Names
I think it is cute when girls named Charlotte are called Charlie. I'm thinking of using it in a story I'm writing.

***

And that, my dear readers, is a glimpse into what I think about and do while on a solo six hour car ride. Fascinating, I know.

My Thesis: Part One

Okay, here you go! This is the first 10 pages of the thesis... and the first 4 pages are really freebies like my dedication and table of contents, so you're only really looking at about 6 pages of serious reading. It covers my introduction, where I explain my project, and then my condensed biography of Stephen King himself.

And for the record, I haven't touched this document in four years... I thought about going back and tweaking things (like where I used the word "great" twice in my very first sentence... forehead slap) but figured it should stay how it was when I submitted it.

And for the second record, I wasn't even a Stephen King fan before I started this project. I had read a few of his things and of course like most everyone else I loved the movies based on his stories - The Shining, Shawshank Redemption, Stand By Me. But I was fascinated, and still am, by the vast divide between the "literary" - the academic, high-brow, whatever - and the popular. It is not an issue specific to the written word, and can be seen rearing its ugly head in art, in music, and I'm sure a myriad of other pursuits. So I came into my project with that in mind, and found Stephen King as this really cool piece of the puzzle.

And for the third record, I am now an official big fan of Stephen King.

If you are not, I'll direct you to his volume of four novellas entitled Different Seasons. It is the perfect place to dip your toe into his work, and I assure you there is nary a rabid dog, deranged killer clown, or apocalyptic showdown to be found. Just fascinating, richly told human stories including the ones that inspired the aforementioned movies The Shawshank Redemption and Stand By Me.

Now, without further ado, click here to get the file. I'm working on a way to hotlink the PDF but for now you will have to click and download from the file hosting site. It's a pretty small file so it should be a snap to download.

A Little Down Time

I've been a little down for the past couple days... just thinking about lots of things, but especially my direction/future plans. I'm having trouble even putting a finger on what exactly is wrong, and so maybe it isn't one specific thing. But generally, I don't know what is in store for me and I am afraid of missing something important, or not taking a risk, or waking up one morning five years from now and wondering why I'm going to the job I am or doing the things I'm doing and realizing I'm thirty, not eighteen or twenty or twenty five anymore, and I don't have all the time in the world to decide what I want to "be" when I grow up.


I want to travel the world, I want to have children and be a mother, I want to write and create and who knows what else. What if those things are never in God's plan for me? Sometimes it is so hard to tell the difference between when the desires of our heart are supposed to be laid down in submission to God's greater plan and when those same desires are supposed to be pursued BECAUSE God has laid them on our heart in the first place!


I get frustrated sometimes because I think I trained myself too well growing up to achieve academically as the best way to get to the next step or stage in my life. I feel like I am betraying my education and intelligence by wandering around in this "limbo" period, without a career-oriented goal to work toward. I remember not too long ago talking with Ben about all this and suddenly bursting into tears saying "I'm smart too!" He was probably confused, but what I meant was that all around me are people pursuing - or practicing - just the thing that their education prepared them for. I feel left behind, I suppose, doodling around in a job that I like but have no desire to pursue as a career. I admire (and am jealous of?) how my friends confidentally saw God's calling for them, took the steps necessary to puruse it, and are now or will soon be DOING it! Nursing, Occupational Therapy, Science Professor... clearly my first misstep was with my English degreee... I suppose I thought I could just read books forever! :) But in seriousness, I want to use whatever God has given me to the fullest impact for His kingdom. If intelligence is one of those gifts, how am I to best use that? I don't want to waste it! If all I ever want to do is be a mom and wife, have I wasted it? (This is the part where I need a specific answer...)


I want to be a lover of Jesus, completely and only satisfied by devoting myself to God and to boldly, passionately run in pursuit of his plans and purposes for my life. I think right now I'm just stalling out on which direction I'm supposed to be running! If you read this and think to do so, I'd be grateful for your prayers that God would help reveal this to me, or at least confirm to me that this waiting period is in fact part of his plan, and not my way of stalling in fear.

A Little Shaken Up

I usually like to keep this blog more upbeat, but every once in a while something happens that I just need to talk about... Today while I was driving to work I almost hit a man with my car, and it scared me horribly.

I was driving on a major road, and coming up to a large intersection (Nolensville and Old Hickory, for you Nashvillians). I moved to get into the right turn lane, which was wide open. The other two lanes in my direction were backed up waiting at the red light. I was zipping past them, totally within my boundaries, when from between two of the stopped cars darts a guy hustling across the street. He appeared and was almost instantly in my lane. I slammed on my brakes and screamed as my car screeched to a halt. This man literally had to jump out of my way and was so close my car must have brushed him; one step further and I would without a doubt have hit him, injured him, maybe even killed him.

I was shaking and crying so I pulled over after a few minutes to try and collect myself. I do NOT understand why someone would try to cross 6 lanes of traffic just a few yards from a busy intersection and not use the crosswalk! And he didn't even pause, didn't even look to see if there were cars coming down my lane. Even though if I had hit him I wouldn't have been at fault, realizing that I was so close to potentially seriously injuring or ending someone's life was terrifying. My mind was racing with the thought of what could have happened. What if I had glanced down to dig something out of my purse or change my CD? What is he had been jogging just a little faster? What if I had left my house 30 seconds earlier? What if what if what if...

But how good is our God, to place his hands in our lives, in the daily workings of our existence? To exist beyond and above our linear notions of time and our ideas about chance and fortitude. God is not playing a game of "what if." I believe that despite the seemingly incongruous ideas of His omniscience and our free will, God's plans are without flaw. I almost hit a man with my car today. Maybe I almost hit him so that the car behind me wouldn't actually hit him. Maybe I almost hit him so I'd be shaken up and more careful and deliberate about my driving habits. But I know there is a reason I didn't hit him, and at the same time a reason that I almost did. Thank you God, that today I didn't hit that man. I pray wherever he is that he is okay and that you have impressed upon his heart that it was more than just a chance occurance, just as you have revealed that to me.

A Sad Thing

I saw a very sad thing today and I just need to write it down.

I was driving to work and going behind a slow old man driver. I was getting annoyed and thinking of how I was already late for work. Then the car in front of me swerved into the other lane to avoid something in the road. All I could see was that it was some sort of roadkill. "Gross," I thought, and followed suit in driving around it.

As I passed it I saw what it was - a tiny baby deer, young enough to still be covered with white spots on its back. It had obviously suffered a very recent death, no doubt at the hands of someone like me driving 55 mph down the curvy back road.

It just made me think about how normally dead animals in the road are either so mangled that they are unrecognizable or are so common that the sight of it doesn't bother you anymore. A dead possum or dead squirrel won't ellicit much more than an "ew" from me. But for some reason to see the little baby deer's body in the road just made me sad enough to cry. Which I did. For about the next two miles. I cried for that baby deer even though I know there are thousands of deers and that what I saw is not that uncommon. I cried for that baby deer even though I know deer aren't exactly the brainiest of animals and that the baby's mom was probably over it already. I cried for that baby deer even though I know the real world isn't like Bambi.

And even though I know that animals don't "go to heaven" in the sense of humans I prayed that God had been there and comforted it upon its death. I prayed that as a part of creation which God made to glorify Himself, the baby deer and its life mattered to God and that perhaps that baby, and animals of all kinds, will be present in eternity. I don't know if that is true, but what I know of God's character makes me believe that it is.

This will be my last official blog for class purposes.

Tuesday evening I gave my presentation on Frost for our Undergraduate Research Symposium. For some reason I've had the hardest time getting papers out recently - I think I'm overwhelmed and undermotivated. Still, I have found it very interesting discovering the role that Frost created as an American poet. He was like a little poet-celebrity! Seems strange - I know I don't think of the poet as fulfilling that sort of role, and I'd imagine not many other people do, either.

Well, I've been trying to ponder whether or not our class solved any of the questions regarding what poetry is and how it should be manifested. I don't think we did! Still, we explored a lot of the options, including introducing me to things I didn't really know about. Before this class I had never heard or seen anything about e-poetry. I'll have to admit I reacted a little negatively towards it as poetry only (you can read my earlier posts about it), although some of it I really did enjoy. Much of it seemed like the multimedia art now found at many modern museums. I also didn't know much about spoken word poetry or poetry slams. I had these visions of beatnik poetry readings with djembes and snapping and people saying, "Be cool." I was really interested in the poetry slam.

One of the things that sticks out most to me was watching the video "What I Want My Words To Do For You." I had never thought of using poetry in these theraputic or rehabilitation settings. Particularly after hearing Trish talk about her experiences with the women and the Campus for Human Development, this idea seemed particularly intriguing to me. Next semester I'll be taking a class entitled "Writing in the Community" where we will hopefully continue to explore the way in which people can reclaim their lives through the power of writing.

Poetry certainly does matter. It matters a lot, and I think one of the ways that it matters most is in the way that people can relate it to their own lives. Though this might not be the most academic or high-brow function of poetry, it seems to be the most meaningful. Most people aren't great poets. When a person can find a poem that says what they feel and think, there's an attachment there that is both powerful and purposeful. In my research on Frost, it seems that people felt able to latch on to his poems as meaningful to their own lives. Whether or not they were accurate in their interpretation of a poem seemed irrelevant - they were attached to the meaning that the poem had to them, not the meaning someone else had ascribed to it. I appreciate that, and I often find it true for myself.

So go read some poetry. And share it with someone else.

The Poetics of Jason Mraz

Some of you might not have heard of this guy yet. Or maybe you heard his song, "The Remedy" on the radio last summer and fall... it got a nice seat in the top 40 rotation for quite some time. His name is Jason Mraz, and you should sit up and take notice. Go here: www.jasonmraz.com

Like John Mayer, Mraz has lyrics worth listening to - lyrics worth reading as poetry. Unlike John Mayer, Mraz has made it obvious that the writing is, for him, paramount, saying in one interview that his object was to "get some poetry into the songs." Later, he said, "Just start writing, and don’t read it. Before you know it you’ll have barfed onto your paper all kinds of things you’d hoped to do. Or you’ll realize that you are doing it, or will do it. That’s how I discovered [writing].”

Mraz is a necessarily hyphenated artist: roots-rock-jazz-hip-hop-country-pop... yeah, that about covers it. In the space of one song, there is a banjo playing while Mraz raps. Above all these things, however, Mraz has consistently impressed me with his lyrics. Again, we're looking at an artist who is concerning himself with a love for words and an understanding of their aesthetic qualities. Sometimes words can be rich with meaning, and other times they can just sound fun. Mraz comments on his inclusion of white-boy rap stylings within many of his songs, saying he loves rap because "it isn't the typical, 'hell, all I need is 12 syllables to complete this stanza'".

Mraz was also trained in musical theater, and thus he brings an element of strength and weight to his performances, which I find interesting in light of our discussions on poetry slams and spoken word poetry. In live musical performance, there is an element of sponteneity and crowd interaction, much like those elements are crucial and influential in spoken word poetry events.

Mraz is often incredibly positive, and within his songs praises the power of words and poetry. From his newest single, "You and I Both":

See I'm all about them words
Over numbers, unencumbered numbered words
Hundreds of pages, pages, pages forwards
More words then I had ever heard and I feel so alive

I also am impressed with the aesthetic qualities that he ascribes to his lyrics, often using words not only because they fit his message and convey his meaning, but because they sound incredible when placed together. He offers up compact rhymes and choppy quick rhythms that seem highly akin to many of the poetry slammers we listened to. Here are some of the lyrics from a few more of his songs, and just from reading I think they make an impact, though they are great to hear:

I heard two men talking on the radio in a cross fire kind of new reality show
Uncovering the ways to plan the next big attack
they were counting down the days to stab the brother in the
be right back after this
the unavoidable kiss
where the minty fresh death breath is sure to outlast his catastrophe
dance with me, because if you've got the poison, I've got the remedy
the remedy is the experience. It is a dangerous liaison
I say the comedy is that its serious.
Which is a strange enough new play on words
I say the tragedy is how you're gonna spend
the rest of your nights with the light on
So shine the light on all of your friends
because it all amounts to nothing in the end.

And from "All That Lies," I love this play on the word "lies" as both the noun and the verb:

Don't get me wrong cause I don't want to know what the truth is
I believe that I'd be here with or without it
All that lies around put me where I am, where I stand
Tell me can you hear all the pretty sounds to hear
Tell me can you see all that lies around

This is from another unreleased song called "After An Afternoon." I thought it was incredibly and richly poetic, in a way that I'd almost be surprised to know that someone could sing it can do it any justice at all.

I bare my windowed self untamed and untrained
Dreams that hardly touch our complexions truest faults
If room enough for both my drowsy spirit shall fall
Bold waves tumble to the season of my heart
Where you have offended my faith and my trust
Until all is lost into the beauty of the day

Well, these blogs on Mayer and Mraz have hopefully been more than just advertisements for some great musicians. I've been considering a lot lately the way that poetry and music lyrics can - and can not - be the same things. Both these songwriters have impressed me with their clever and generous use of language. I can consider it nothing less than some of the finer poetry that has caught my recent attention.

Invitation

If you are a dreamer, come in,
If you are a dreamer, a wisher, a liar,
A hope-er, a pray-er, a magic bean buyer...
If you're a pretender, come site by my fire
For we have some flax-golden tales to spin.
Come in!

That is a poem by Shel Silverstein, and it was incorporated into recent event held by my group in our class: "Poetry Playtime." The following are excerpts from a paper I wrote in response to the event.

***

Poetry Playtime was born of the idea that most people fear poetry. They loathe it. The very idea of it conjures up words like, “boring,” “long,” and “confusing.” Yet for most of us, poetry was an integral part of our childhood development. From the sing-songy scheme of almost all children’s books to the primary colored pages of Dr. Seuss to the simplest of all nursery rhymes, we learned words through poetry. We learned to love reading through learning to read and recite poems. We giggled at the way the words sounded and loved the way they felt spilling from our little inexperienced mouths.

Our group – Tom, Tiffany, and I – hoped to encourage our fellow college students by remembering the days when poetry was fun, not scary. We wanted to recreate the experience of having poetry read to us, and this would come complete with childhood snacks and a “reading” circle.

Our poetry outreach project took place on Wednesday, March 3, at the 10:00 hour. We were hoping for good weather so we could sit outside, so obviously it was raining, and we were banished to Neely Dining Hall. Though we hadn’t picked up any “carpet squares” (an earlier idea that got canned), we arranged some chairs in a circle in the corner of the room. It would be nice, quiet, intimate… or, 70+ people would show up… which is what did happen. Luckily, there were more chairs available, and so the circle expanded. Eventually we used up all the chairs and so some stragglers stood. They may have come for the childlike smorgasbord we had prepared: goldfish crackers, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches (no crust, cut diagonally), Fruit-Roll-Ups, and Capri Sun pouches. Regardless, they came, and that was the most important part.

Tiffany went first, reading some poems from a Shel Silverstein book. As I looked around the room, some people’s faces lit up in recognition – not everyone, but some. Whispers of, “Oh, I loved this poem!” and “I remember this one.” arose from our reading circle. Now I can’t pretend to know how other people were feeling, or what they were thinking. But I know what I was thinking. As Tiffany recited “Smart,” I remembered memorizing the poem and performing it for my 4th grade class. We all had to pick a Shel poem to memorize and recite, and I was so proud of myself. I was proud because I had memorized the poem, of course, but also proud that I knew that five pennies was less than one dollar.

Smart

My dad gave me one dollar bill
'Cause I'm his smartest son,
And I swapped it for two shiny quarters
'Cause two is more than one!

And then I took the quarters
And traded them to Lou
For three dimes -- I guess he don't know
That three is more than two!

Just then, along came old blind Bates
And just 'cause he can't see
He gave me four nickels for my three dimes,
And four is more than three!

And I took the nickels to Hiram Coombs
Down at the seed-feed store,
And the fool gave me five pennies for them,
And five is more than four!

And then I went and showed my dad,
And he got red in the cheeks
And closed his eyes and shook his head --
Too proud of me to speak!

Tiffany closed the session with an excellent rendition of Dr. Seuss’s classic, "Oh, the Places You’ll Go!" I would guesstimate that two-thirds of high school graduates either received this book as a gift, or heard some part of it recited during a graduation speech. Tiffany spoke briefly on this, and mentioned that perhaps in rereading it could be meaningful to us again and again as we encountered new phases of our lives.

You have brains in your head.
You have feet in your shoes.
You can steer yourself
any direction you choose.
You're on your own. And you know what you know.
And YOU are the one who'll decide where to go...

OH! THE PLACES YOU'LL GO!

You'll be on your way up!
You'll be seeing great sights!
You'll join the high fliers
who soar to high heights.

It’s corny, I know. Yet I feel that so often we are ushered into this “adult” world and unfortunately we leave behind the meaning we found in simplicity, exchanging it for an embittered quest into what we assume is a “more mature obscurity.” I think there is as much truth to be found in Dr. Seuss’s monosyllabic stories and Shel Silverstein’s whimsical poetry as any other poet or storyteller could wish to have. It is powerful and poignant, just in an easy-to-open wrapper.

Our poetry project touched on the very oral nature of most children’s poetry. I thought this was interesting as it coincided with our in-class discussion on spoken-word poetry. Most children’s poetry is extremely adaptable to being read out loud, and I would venture to say that most of it is better when read out loud. The act of reading to a child is incredibly powerful and purposeful. Children who are regularly read to associate reading with the comfort of having another person’s undivided attention. It also encourages them to begin to read, as they sound out the words. If you pay attention, a lot of young children first learning to read almost always read out loud to themselves. In a sense (and our program tried to capture that), we could learn a thing or two from these children. Much poetry is better understood after reading it aloud. Our poetry reading combined the remembered sense of ownership of reading aloud with the remembered sense of comfort from being read to.

I think our group addressed in our poetry outreach project the need for poetry to be accessible again. People who may have struggled with understanding or appreciating poetry for most of their “academic careers” may have walked away from Poetry Playtime with a refreshed outlook on the craft. Though perhaps they did not rush out to buy the latest Norton Anthology, maybe a few went home and dug out an old copy of Where the Sidewalk Ends. At the very least, I am certain that people came, had an encounter with real, meaningful poetry, and left feeling non-threatened, non-confused, and probably a little happier. That is good enough for me.