soulsearching

This morning out the kitchen window was a star magnolia in front of a froth of willow.

Later in the day after a date with the taxman who is obsolite
the dog anD I went to the barn via the field he ran across to flush a big blue heron.

Sable Cat doing her stations of the cat,rolling on the adirondak rocker
me scratching her belly,she scratching my hand a bit.

birds sing their love louder than Bakeowski.

SPRING!!!

soulsearching Today I got a new list of people I want to read DavidHor(r0r)witz published a list of the 101 most dangerous professors in U.S. Many of them are on the wrong side of his Israili favoring position; one in particular caught my eye. A diminutive teacher at Erlham College who teaches Peace Studies. How subversive at a Quaker school! I thank the nasty old man for publishing his enemies list! I was beginning to worry about the 50 years' gap between myself and my students as I extend my teaching by being an adjunct. He has given new meaning to my work! I will continue to goad and cajole and dare my students to think in this world gone askew. Who would have it any other way. As my new found confidant Kierkegaard was wont to say it is important for us to regain our indivduality against the overwhelming onslaught of societal institutions which seek to reduce us to a compliant mass(or something like that)

soulsearchingSt Paddy's Day. Everybody's Irish. My Irish sister called to wish me top of the mornin'. Apparently my father used to talk with a brogue when he was tipsy, so my mother always freaked out when I would lapse into a brogue. One of my son's brogues when he's three sheets to the wind. Jansenistic Irish were big on mea culpa. Perhaps that is why my soul was so black during my childhood-teen age years...Oh they had great stories such as: Extra Ecclessia nullus salus= outside the church there is no salvation; this lead to it was a mortal sin to darken the doors of a Protestant church. And so on a Sunday afternoon when my sister and I entered the chapel of Trinity College we were at Hell's gates. I don't believe I ever confessed that sin. Perhaps the priest would have straightened me out. Fear was big and ugly and in all dark places, lurking behind a door drifting along with an impure thought...I remember a St Patrick's day which stretched into St Joseph's day when I was in Turkey. Magnums, and Jerryboms of champagne, and a protestant girl missionary who came home with me and bundled ,but we did not fuck. Before she left, she hung my trousers from the top bureau drawer, and took the cuff links out of my french cuffs. Left the change on the bureau along with the keys and went about God's good work among the heathen.