Skip to main content

The Other Side

July folds into August.  I'm fortunate to be writing this from a cabin on the Metolius River in Central Oregon.  Not only one of the most beautiful places on the planet, but one that seems to remain unchanged, with it's ever flowing water that springs from the side of a mountain.  I've been coming here for almost two decades, but one notable difference this time is the fact that I'm seeing the river and it's  environs from the other side.  I've always seen the water flowing to my right, but now it's on my left side.  Although the remedy is simple (cross over ) it got me thinking about fresh perspectives on things I take for granted.
The other night, while watching a baseball game, one of the announcers mentioned that he'd been thinking about the game of baseball with only one pitch per batter.
"What if they changed the rules," he said, and each at bat was just one pitch."  Intriguing, not to mention the game would certainly speed up.  You miss, you're out.  A ball, you walk.  Foul ball, you're out.  Really intriguing now.
I fear that could happen one day.  After all, the case for faster, quicker, non-stop everything is already being made.  From trains to cars to internet service...why not baseball?
But what's lost?  Watching a game of baseball, like fishing the Metolius River is never the same.  Something you've never seen before can happen any time.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Writing on the Wall

       The first time I saw graffiti that was memorable was in a middle school bathroom.  As 6th graders I often walked home with friends by the middle school we'd soon be attending.  A stop by the boys bathroom near the boys gym placed me face to face with a piece of graffiti that immediately madame and my friends laugh uncontrollably.  On the wall above the urinals, was penned a short poem that read"                     This is a Teepee to take a pee pee,                         Not a wigwam to beat your tom tom      14 year-old humor at it's best.  The laughter my friends and I experienced was cathartic.  Being bottom of the barrel Freshmen could have dire consequences in the boys bathroom.  Those unpleasantries would come later, but for the moment, we were ecstatic and proceeded to read all the g...
Post a Comment
Read more

The Quality of Optimism

 I've returned to The Book of Qualities, by J Ruth Gentler once again to meet the needs of one of the senior students in my little Writing From Memory class I'm currently teaching in my local community center.  This little volume personifies various concepts and personality traits.  The particular student "in need" seems to be fixated on writing about her past relationships.  Apparently, there were many.   I'm OK with that.  I only hope that she picks a few qualities that are as revealing about herself as those that might describe her Ex's.  There is much to be learned by writing about a quality.  The aforementioned book seems to have survived well over the years.  I first encountered it and its author way back in the late 1970s.  I took a journal writing workshop from her.  Then, a few years later, her book came out and I introduced these writing exercises to my students.  11th grade Juniors seemed to do the best with it. ...
Post a Comment
Read more

Mr. Greene v. Mr. Brown

I want to tell you about something. Something I've carried inside myself for a number of years now. Perhaps if I were a different kind of person I wouldn't need to talk about it. I'm not. My need to tell it is stronger than your need to hear it. Because, however, there are a number of teachers and former students of mine who may read these meanderings from time to time, I need to tell this story all the more. About 7 or 8 years ago I was asked if I would allow a university PhD. candidate to observe an English class. At first I decided against it because I was scheduled to have a student teacher placed with me the second half of the semester in question. After some urging, however, at the request of a respected colleague, I agreed. Soon I was committing to extra meetings, signing documents and explaining to the class in question who the young woman who thoughtfully pounded away on a laptop in the rear of the classroom three times a week was. I knew that the topic of ...
3 comments
Read more