A Controlling Statement Kind of Morning

It's Katherine today, not Jim. Jim's out working with Bud--handyman time.

When I taught, I liked the way my curriculum made me try on alternative modes of thought. It made me see the world differently for a bit and it was only slightly difficult to manage when I taught two lit classes at once and had to balance two different ways of thinking. I remember a "particular tricky stretch of terrain"(*1) one spring day when Hamlet and Holden hit disillusionment simultaneously. Talk about catharsis.

The composition curriculum forced the issue too. Teaching rhetoric and writing and journalism led to weeks comparing or weeks classifying, or weeks analyzing, or weeks in iambic pentameter, or weeks in couplets, odes, limericks, or sonnets. There were weeks when all of my life was filtered through newspaper leads with all five W's pulled together with magical active verbs. There are still days when I read the newspaper checking leads and lamenting the string of passive verbs. There are still days when everything looks like a free verse poem.

Strangely enough there are even days when everything I do comes out of my brain in controlling statement form.(*2). Though bulky, controlling statements certainly force me to clarify my thinking and since I rarely hang out with cause and effect, it unsettles me to see the world through reasonable key terms. I'm happier leaving logic to Jim and letting my intuition guide me. I'm not sure which of our approaches is more successful because we either agree or Jim goes along with me because he loves me so much. He's like that, you know.

Anyway, this morning the world just filtered through in controlling statements--some quite sophomoric I'm afraid. Anyway, for old time's sake, for the linguistic gymnastics of it all, and just for the heck of it, here's a sampling of this morning's controlling statements:

1. Good soil, water, and compost make a mighty fine garden.

N.B.: It's important to read this one as though it was 6:00 AM and you're really excited that plants are actually thriving. Sophomoric I know, but true to my spirit at the time.

2. Drinking coffee and doing the NY Times crossword puzzle slam dunks going to the gym because I won't worry about my shoulder, I'll take care of our yard, and I'll have time to play after I see the doc.

3. Seeing Morgan Freeman and Jon Stewart together on a rerun of The Daily Show capsulized all I trust in the media given Freeman's narration on every environmental, critter, and outer space show on the Discovery Channel, and given Stewart's ability to attack everything I want attacked. (only two key terms here--oops)

N.B.: Morgan Freeman said he'd always been interested in outer space. This sruprised me. He once wanted to have a channel that highlighted his interests in outer space. He said he once read Cosmos by Carl Sagan as though it were a significant tome. That part worried me.

4. After seeing kindly Dr. Kaufmann, it looks like early arthritis (oh boy, oh boy), a spinal pinch or bulge (I can have an MRI if I want), or a constant stress ("knitting through baseball games?" Dr. K asked with a not-so-compassionate face) all could play a factor in my constantly numb scapula area.

5. Plowing through The Dante Club wears on me because I haven't read more than ten minutes in a row, there seem to be a whole shitload of characters, and I keep wondering if books like this could ever take place at CSU.

6. Kindly Dr. Kaufmann's interests reflect an eclectic personality because he used to raise llamas, he now keeps bees (six hives survived the winter), and The Bible is his favorite book.

N.B.: Dr. Kaufmann knows I knit and thinks I should not do it for hours straight. He does not know that Franny and Zooey is my favorite book. Nor does he realize I'm pretty good with plants and I'm trying hard to speak Spanish to our salsa garden.

7. Healthy people in waiting rooms herald the end of printed text as they stare at blank phones (smart or otherwise), hang their heads and stare at the floor, and check out the "art" in the office rather than read all sorts of available magazines.

Having written some of my morning's fruit down, I'm realizing how inane my morning seems when I really kind of enjoyed it while it was happening.

One last bit of sharing, please. Last Saturday, unlike today, was a day I lived in free verse land. We attended the first dance recital of our two grand-daughters. Sammi, age 5, has been to preschool and knows it's important to be part of the group and to give the assigned choreography a real shot. Sammi gave every effort to make her moves with the others. She understood the concept that they were all in their Princess Dance together. Brooklyn, age 3, was dancing in her own little princess world. It was a joy to watch.

I'll end with a bit of Saturday's free verse lens. It's for Brooklyn, age almost 4.

The First Dance Recital

In the dark the age-four-to-five princesses
found their X's on the stage
and the spotlight shone blue
on their blue princess gowns.

Most curtsied and pointed to bluebirds in unison,
but our Brooklyn only twirled
because princesses twirl.
She knows this
and she twirls and twirls and twirls.



That's it for today.

*1. A phrase from "The Laughing Man" by J.D. Salinger
*A controlling statement was a Jefferson County writing device that functioned like a thesis statement. It consisted of an inferential subject, a critical assertion, and three inferential reasons supporting the thesis--a combination of the subject and assertion. It outlined a five paragraph essay and was mandated by the district.