The Writer's Poke

It’s difficult to go through the day without some idea, memory, or song sneaking its way into your mind. Don’t you just love it, for example, when you get a song stuck in your head? It might not be a song that you like, but it’s hard to avoid hearing some songs to the point that they are indelibly recorded into what has become, over time, your skull full of mush. So the other day I was at the local grocery store shopping for donuts and Wheaties, and basically minding my own business, when what started playing on store’s music station? Hall and Oates’s “Kiss on My List.” In this song the chorus repeats at least three times, and it’s the same one line over and over and over again: “(Because your kiss) is on my list.” In the course of listening to the song one time, then, you hear this mantra at least 20 times. Listen to the song once, and just try to forget the chorus the rest of the afternoon. You cannot do it. But what is this list that Daryl Hall sings so passionately about? You don’t...

Larry was in the hospital, and so it was not a surprise when the College President called me. "I've asked Roger to fill in," she said. And just like that, I had a new boss. Roger was a great guy, and he and I had a fine relationship when we were both Department Chairs. Now that he was Interim Vice President, however, many of us felt that he had let the role go to his head. It even got to the point where he was sending out memos about how dirty the coffeespoon was in the breakroom . And that's something as Interim Vice President that he could not just stand by and let happen. The coffeespoon must be clean at all times, or else there would be no more coffee. After all, he was a former military man, and what we needed was a little military discipline. He saw the coffeespoon as symptomatic of bigger problems. Then one morning Roger called a meeting. It was just me, him, and Richard, who was the other Department Chair. Richard was the nicest Southern gentleman you...

Everyone on my mom's side is Mormon, and most summers we would travel out to Idaho for a two or three week visit. One summer, we brought our Apple II computer, and my cousins and I would play a game called "Olympic Decathlon." Since it was my game, I was pretty good at it, but after a few days, most of my cousins had developed some skills, too. Eventually, everyone was over at the Grandparents' house at the same time, and everyone packed into the living room to see me take on the top challengers. When we were through about half of the events, I realized that there was a real chance that I might actually lose. And then it happened: on the high jump event, my thumb hit the joystick button a split second too late, and I knocked over the bar. Thinking I was with a regular group of kids, I said, "Shit!" And the entire room immediately got quiet. My parents weren't in the room, but one of my uncles had apparently stuck his head in at that exact moment, long en...

My mother keeps a scrapbook for Octavia, her first and only grandchild. Actually, as my mom admits, it's more a scrapbook for herself, but it contains a lot of Octavia pictures. It also contains a lot of Mormon quotes and things that she's snipped out of magazines -- things that may or may not be Tavi -related. And it's kind of scrapbooking on the cheap. Mom simply uses regular notebooks for scrapbooks, because after all, why go to all the expense of buying the appropriate materials when notebooks work just as well. More or less. What really bothers me about her scrapbooks, besides all the Mormon quotes, is the censorship of one particular photograph. Linda took a picture of Tavi enjoying a bath, and in this picture, she's laying on her stomach with her bare butt exposed. My mom apparently thought the picture was too racy, and she placed a sticker over Tavi's crack. Funny thing is, my mom must really like this picture. She has the same shot hanging up on the wall...

We were at a sandwich shop in downtown Washington D.C. Outside we could see a young black man politely walking up to people. He was clearly asking for money, and I could only hope that he would have moved on down the street by the time we were ready to leave. Unfortunately, this must have been his corner, because he was still right outside the door when we left. And instead of walking right by him, I acknowledged his presence. You see, I have this terrible problem of looking people in the eyes, whereas when you're in the big city, you must develop the ability to look through people, if you look in their direction at all. "Excuse me, sir," he said. He wanted to give me his rehearsed speech. Apparently he was a student that had somehow gotten separated from his tour group. And could I spare some money so that he could purchase a subway ticket? I acted sympathetically, but I declined to give him any money. Immediately, his body language changed, and so did his tone. "It...

In The Tao of Inner Peace , Diane Dreher describes the difference between the philosophies of Confucius and Lao Tzu. Confucius, she notes, "upheld elaborate rituals of etiquette and social duty." In other words, he promoted a conservatism that placed the good of the society over the creative freedom of the individual. Lao Tzu, on the other hand, put the individual first. The basic idea of Tao is that the individual can control any situation through the way that situation is perceived. And Te, according to Dreher, refers to living a purposeful life. Putting Tao and Te together is what is meant by living the way of the dragon. Confucius apparently admitted that he had no idea how a dragon could fly, but he recognized that dragons did in fact have that ability, and that Lao Tzu was himself a dragon. Are you a follower or a dragon? "Challenge is a dragon with a with a gift in its mouth. Tame the dragon and the gift is yours." -- Noela Evans

In high school I thought I might want to become a veterinarian some day. That all ended when I took Zoology. Actually, I liked Zoology, and even in college I toyed with the idea of double-majoring in Zoology and English. But Zoology taught me that I liked live animals a lot more than I liked dead animals marinating in formaldehyde. It also taught be that I had better leave the brain surgery to others. As an extra credit assignment, Mr. Samson asked those interested to remove the frog’s brain intact. My lab partner was happy to hand me the scalpel, and I worked carefully to cut through the French delicacy’s skull. About 90% of the operation was a success, but then my scalpel got stuck on a tricky bit around Kermit’s right eye. Without much thought, I tried to secure a better grip on the back of its head, and the next thing I knew, I had poked the brain with my left thumb. And let me tell you something: poking a frog’s brain with your thumb is not something that you soon forget. What did...

Panera Bread likes to know its customer. So when you place an order, they ask for your name. The local Panera still asks for your name even though they now hand out those coaster-size buzzers that let you know when your order is ready for pick up. And they still ask you for your name even if you hand them a credit card that has your name clearly imprinted on the front of it. When I go there, I always give my name, and then I spell it out for them, just in case my tongue is overly lazy that day, or just in case the ever-attentive employee taking my order has pieces of cheese stuck in her ears. My name is a one-syllable, four letter word. And this is what I say when they ask me my name: “Bret: B-R-E-T.” When I pick up my order, I like to look at the receipt to see what they’ve heard me say. If they happen to spell Brett or Brent or even Brad, that’s no big deal. People often mistake a Bret for any one of those. But here’s the kicker: on multiple occasions, the name written on my receipt ...

Human beings are a funny lot. For most of our history, we believed that we were the center of the universe, and that everything revolved around us. Guess what? Even though now we seemingly know better -- that the Earth revolves around the sun, that our sun is just one of billions of suns in billions of galaxies -- we don't. Most people simply don't sit around and contemplate how small and insignificant we -- and our planet, and our place in the universe -- really are. What we lack, in other words, is perspective. And maybe that's a built-in defense mechanism. In fact, I'm sure it is. Growing up, we all experience the same thing on an individual level, right? We all start out in life believing that we are the center of the universe. We are the protagonist in our own play, and everyone around us simply shares our stage. It's hard to think that with a planet of 7 billion people, even if we were "one in a million," that still means that there are thousands of...

I haven't always been conformable in this skin. Back in junior high and high school, specifically, I would leaf through pictures in the yearbook and compare myself to the other guys. What does this guy have that I don't have, I'd ask? One guy in particular was everyone's darling. But why the girls were ga-ga over him and not me, I never understood. I'm sure that there were times when I would have been glad to trade lives with him. But during our senior year, the girl he was dating -- the girl that I, of course, wanted to be dating -- ended up pregnant. And when that happened, that pretty quickly put an end to me wishing to be him. Then, I was very thankful that I was me. Virgin, yes. But father, no. Have you ever wanted to trade lives with someone? Why do you imagine that their life is so much better than your own? "Enjoy your own life without comparing it with that of another." -- Marquis Condorcet

One lucky African child gets to drink Salma's milk. Yummy.

so much depends upon a red wheel barrow glazed in rain water beside the white chickens. -- "The Red Wheelbarrow" by William Carlos Williams You know, I've taught "The Red Wheelbarrow" as a serious poem to my writing students for years and years. And I've told them that they could analyze it for a full 3-to-5 page essay. So, yes, I appreciate that poem. But as I was brushing my hair this morning, I looked into the bathtub, saw some of Octavia's toys, and this "parody" just came to me. Then I wiped away a tear, knowing that I'll never be as widely anthologized for my stunning, impressionistic brilliance as W.C. Williams is. Truth be told, I spent less than five minutes "composing" my poem, which is just about as long as it took Williams to write his. So why is Williams' poem famous and mine never will be? Is it just because he wrote his first? Is it because his objects are better than mine, somehow more essential to a symbolic u...

"Sometimes you tell the truth Like you're pulling taffy." -- from "Taffy" by Lisa Loeb How in the world is pulling taffy related to telling the truth? According to http://www.exploratorium.edu/ , pulling taffy " aerates it, or incorporates many tiny air bubbles throughout the candy. This makes it lighter and chewier." The process itself can be quite strenuous to the one doing the pulling, because it requires "stretching it out and folding it in half, then stretching and folding again, over and over, until you may reach the point of exhaustion." Now imagine telling the truth like this. But then remember the pay off -- a "lighter and chewier" truth. Develop another metaphor for telling the truth that is as innovative and as descriptive as Lisa Loeb's "Taffy." "If you're going to tell the truth, be funny of they'll kill you." -- Billy Wilder

Some contestants on American Idol know they suck. They just want their fifteen minutes of fame, and if that means that they have to make asses of themselves, then that's exactly what they're willing to do. Why we watch, though, and I admit it's a bit sad, is to see the hopes and dreams smashed to bits of those that genuinely believe they have Kelly Clarkson's voice. When they sing, they don't hear themselves as being capable of making dogs cry. Quite the opposite; these people think they're superstars. What's even more scary is that some people are "tone deaf" in much more profound ways. Take the political party you love to hate, the religious leader that has the direct hotline to God, or the smirking boss at work that never asks for your advice. Describe the attitude that makes people "tone deaf" to different ideas and alternative points of view. "It's like Randy went deaf this year. I don't know what happened." -- S...

The florescent light in the bathroom worked fine, as long as you didn't switch it off. Doing so caused it to twitch and flicker. Sometimes it would come on full strength, but other times it wouldn't. Our solution was a piece of grey tape. We put the grey tape over the light switch, and the light stayed on for six solid months. The nearest Home Depot is only 3 miles away, and replacement bulbs cost less than $7. Swapping out a pair of florescent bulbs is not a major home improvement project, either. It takes about 5 minutes to unscrew the cover, take out the bulbs, and pop in the replacements. Yet, no one wanted to go through the minor inconvenience of changing the light. What's the most simple thing you've put off doing? For how long, and why? "How soon 'not now' becomes 'never'." -- Martin Luther

As my parents continue to grow older, I often wonder what it will be like to live without them. My assumption is that I will, in fact, outlive them, although stranger things have happened. We live a few hundred miles apart, and so each visit is important. They could live for years more, but I can measure their lives in the number of days that we'll actually be together physically. Some of my friends have already experienced the loss of a mother or father, or both. What's even more amazing to me, though, is that some have cut off all ties with a living parent. In other words, their parents have became the living dead. What will they feel when their parents actually die? Will they regret the years of life lost, or will they stand by their decision? To the best of my knowledge, none of my friends who have stopped talking to their parents were sexually abused, but all would claim a never-ending mental abuse. One of the toughest transitions for parents is to recognize when a son or ...

Empty your mind of all thought and belief. Do you believe in God? Now, don't get me wrong. I'm not against the idea of God. In fact, I would side with Albert Einstein and Carl Sagan, who believed that we have no way of knowing whether God exists or not, but to make the leap of faith and live as though He does is highly illogical. In no other realm are people allowed to make such illogical leaps of faith. Rather than giving in and believing, why not withhold judgement and live a life of curious inquiry? Other God critics, Richard Dawkins and Christopher Hitchens come to mind, seem to have more at stake in proving God's non-existence. Perhaps this is a natural knee-jerk reaction to a world that just overwhelming assumes that an Old Man in the Sky exists. To be neutral, then -- to be agnostic -- is not an option, because the voices of the believers are too loud. Recently, someone tried to use the line on me that it doesn't matter if God exists or not; we should simply li...

How much is virginity worth? Almost all of us probably gave it away for nothing, but one twenty-two year old Women's Studies graduate student decided to auction hers off to the highest bidder. Somewhat incredibly, the bidding has risen to 3.7 million dollars. Are there really no more twenty-two year old virgins left in the world? The student admitted that she found the bidding war funny, as virginity isn't even valued anymore. Apparently it is, and the irony is that it took something like this stunt to prove it. Explain the value of virginity. OR What would you do for 3.7 million dollars? "It is one of the superstitions of the human mind to have imagined that virginity could be a virtue ." -- Voltaire

I was one of those people who never took care of their car. Why bother? I thought. First, the repair would cost more than the 1978 Oldsmobile Delta 88 was worth. And second, I didn't have the time to sit around waiting for a mechanic to fix my car. I had to live, damn it. When the muffler finally fell off, though, I knew that I would have to buy a new one. So I took it to Midas, and five hours later, I had a new $400 muffler on my less than $400 car. And I thought to myself, "Great. That's the last muffler I will ever need to buy." Yes, I was naive, but then again, in a literal sense, that was the truth. Midas guarantees all mufflers for the life of the car, and if I had decided to drive that car until the rust had totally disintegrated it down to the tires, maybe I wouldn't have ever had to buy another muffler. The real point is, though, that no matter how many times you go to the mechanic, the doctor, the dentist, the grocery store, the mall, the post office, th...

This may not be a new idea, but it's a new experience that I'm now living with. Everyone knows that I'm a father, and it's a great conversation starter. "How old is Octavia now?" they might ask. And I tell them, following the baby protocol by giving her age in months. What I've discovered is that Octavia is my walking, breathing calendar. My wife and I have been together for ten years, for example, but the passage of married time isn't that noticeable. On the other hand, I've been with Octavia from the very beginning. And even "before" the beginning, for that matter. When she turned 15 months old, it struck me. Not only is she 15 months old, but I'm 15 months older than I was when she was born! Maybe that's not an earth-shaking realization, but she will always be my age-marker, and as she grows older, I will see in her my own aging. How do you feel about aging? What reminds you that you're growing older? "Thirty-five is a...