Laughing in the Shadow: The Role of Humor in Ghost Story Telling -
A Master's Thesis partially funded by National Storytelling Network, is now available online and to electronic thesis search engines world-wide.
Completed at East Tennessee State Unversity, the thesis is available as a .pdf ETSU's Sherrod library via their website.
Readers who go to the Sherrod website can search electronic thesis for the keyword: Shadow and will receive the following brief listing of the work:
Database: EAST TENNESSEE STATE UNIVERSITY LIBRARIES
Main Author: Bentley-Edwards, Melissa Ann.
Title: Laughing in the Shadow: The Role of Humor in Ghost Story Telling [electronic resource] /
Publisher: [Johnson City, Tenn. : East Tennessee State University], 2006.
Description: Electronic data (1 file).
Includes: Computer File
This listing includes a direct Link to Resource: Adobe Acrobat .pdf file, requires Adobe Acrobat Reader software.
Thursday, September 21, 2006
Votre Vray Workshops Set
Votre Vray: Your Truth Through Story
Directed by Mel Edwards, Educational Consultant and Storyteller.
For more details visit www.VotreVray.com
Workshop Dates and Areas:
Monday, November 6th from 6-9 p.m., Greenville, SC
Saturday, January 20th from 9 a.m.-noon, Greenville, SC
3 Day Event: March 30, 31, and April 1st, Greenville, SC
Workshop Fees:
3-Hour Workshop Prices: $25 per person, 20 person maximum.
3 Day Event Price TBA October 1st, 2006.
Directed by Mel Edwards, Educational Consultant and Storyteller.
For more details visit www.VotreVray.com
Workshop Dates and Areas:
Monday, November 6th from 6-9 p.m., Greenville, SC
Saturday, January 20th from 9 a.m.-noon, Greenville, SC
3 Day Event: March 30, 31, and April 1st, Greenville, SC
Workshop Fees:
3-Hour Workshop Prices: $25 per person, 20 person maximum.
3 Day Event Price TBA October 1st, 2006.
Votre Vray
WWW. VotreVray.COM LAUNCHED!
In French, votre is used for “your” and vrai means “true” or “truth.” The focus of Votre Vray is to promote the personal and professional success of the "underdogs" who have found thier life path. Votre Vray shares their stories in their own words -- their truth.
How does one discover her or his truth? By paying attention to her or his life path, messages, interests...and more. Once discovered, life becomes much easier, even if a person cannot make immediate changes to follow her life path. Therefore, we use the tag line:
Perception is Everything.
Until then, if you hear of someone’s triumphs to become successful while following their own truth, please do not hesitate to give them this web address. We'd love to assist them in telling their tales.
In French, votre is used for “your” and vrai means “true” or “truth.” The focus of Votre Vray is to promote the personal and professional success of the "underdogs" who have found thier life path. Votre Vray shares their stories in their own words -- their truth.
How does one discover her or his truth? By paying attention to her or his life path, messages, interests...and more. Once discovered, life becomes much easier, even if a person cannot make immediate changes to follow her life path. Therefore, we use the tag line:
Perception is Everything.
Until then, if you hear of someone’s triumphs to become successful while following their own truth, please do not hesitate to give them this web address. We'd love to assist them in telling their tales.
Monday, June 12, 2006
How true some of this is!
| You Are a Newborn Soul |
 You are tolerant, accepting, and willing to give anyone a chance. On the flip side, you're easy to read and easily influenced by others. You have a fresh perspective on life, and you can be very creative. Noconformist and nontraditional, you've never met anyone who's like you. Inventive and artistic, you like to be a trendsetter. You have an upbeat spirit and you like almost everything. You make friends easily and often have long standing friendships. Implusive and trusting, you fall in love a little too easily. Souls you are most compatible with: Bright Star Soul and Dreaming Soul |
Is my M.A. in Storytelling close enough?
| You Should Get a MFA (Masters of Fine Arts) |
 You're a blooming artistic talent, even if you aren't quite convinced. You'd make an incredible artist, photographer, or film maker. |
Career Confirmation for Storytellers!
| Your Career Type: Artistic |
 You are expressive, original, and independent. Your talents lie in your artistic abilities: creative writing, drama, crafts, music, or art. You would make an excellent: Actor - Art Teacher - Book Editor Clothes Designer - Comedian - Composer Dancer - DJ - Graphic Designer Illustrator - Musician - Sculptor The worst career options for your are conventional careers, like bank teller or secretary. |
If I had just known Jim Henson...
| You Are Kermit |
 Hi, ho! Lovable and friendly, you get along well with everyone you know. You're a big thinker, and sometimes you over think life's problems. Don't worry - everyone know's it's not easy being green. Just remember, time's fun when you're having flies! |
I am Sunrise
| You Are Sunrise |
 You enjoy living a slow, fulfilling life. You enjoy living every moment, no matter how ordinary. You are a person of reflection and meditation. You start and end every day by looking inward. Caring and giving, you enjoy making people happy. You're often cooking for friends or buying them gifts. All in all, you know how to love life for what it is - not for how it should be. |
Monday, April 24, 2006
This Day in My Life - June 29, 2004 - dairy contributor
Spring of 2004 I received a once-in-a-lifetime invitation from a book editor to be one of about 500 women in America to keep a diary for one day. That day was to be June 29th - a Tuesday - because apparently Tuesday are as dull as our days tend to ever get. Seriously though, Tuesdays rarely have out-of-the-ordinary events occur on them. So it was set.
Below is my diary from that day. I had to wait until after the book arrived on shelves to print what I wrote. I have, I believe, two whole sentences in the actual book. Nevertheless, if you want to know how we girlies think the book is a great place to start. My day diary is just full of my normal silliness, and is sure to convince the President that I am full of attitude but not smart enough, or organized enough, to be a threat to anyone save myself. (Rest assured W, the world is safe from me!)
Oh! Forgot to tell you the book title: This Day in the Life: Diaries from Women Across America. Details can be found at: www.thisdayinthelife.com and is in stores now. Pick up a copy and welcome to our world!
-Mel. Edwards
*************************************************
June 29th 2004 – TADAAAA! The Big Day has arrived.
**************************************************
1:30 a.m. Woke up to pee. I wonder if I went to bed too early (8: 30 p.m.) and hope I will sleep until the alarm goes off.
5 a.m. Alarm off. Hubby getting up. I’m a slug. After a month of sleeping in with no alarms, it’s time to get on track. By WHY today? Can’t we do this tomorrow? No. Didn’t think so.
5:05 a.m. I’m up. Bed is made. Bunny (yes, a real rabbit – a German angora cross) is up. (Her name is Poppet.) Morning bun-bun! Boy, are you ready to run around or what? Glad one of us is awake. Let mama pee and I’m all yours.
5:20 a.m. The bunny has run around the bathroom while I cleaned her 3’ long cage. As far as bunnies go, I suppose the cage is palatial, but she deserves it. She brings so much joy to our lives. I discovered she didn’t pee where I laid out shredded newspaper for nesting. Wish I learned that weeks ago when we got her. It would have saved a lot of work. Oh well. I’m learning, bun-bun. Mama is learning. Give me time.
5:35 a.m. Driving with hubby to work. He’s driving there and then I have my truck for the day. I look like such a redneck this morning. I just put my hair in a messy ponytail pulled jeans and hiking boots on with my nightshirt, which is actually a men’s gray undershirt. I haven’t even put on my wedding band yet. (Can’t sleep with it on because my fingers swell at night and when I wake it feels like a tourniquet.) Oh well. Kissed hubby good-bye, handed him his lunch bag and drove off. Today I’m being wild and going to buy some mammoth muffins. Gotta go to the ATM first, though.
6:25 a.m. Home again. Bought three muffins, one for this morning and one for hubby and me for tomorrow morning. Yummy! Tried to stop at the local bakery but they don’t open until 7 a.m. Rats. I love bakeries. Not just for eating their wares. I love to bake. I’m a frustrated pastry chef in-the-making, I guess.
6:45 a.m. Just checked e-mail. Got a note back from King Arthur Flour. I’d e-mailed and told them how much I loved their cookbook and what I had already made from it. One of the owner-operators wrote back and said thanks and that their goal was to educate cooks in the home (as opposed to chefs). She also said she’d share it with the rest of the company. That made my day. The Internet is so cool! I can write to company exec’s and get a note back within 24 hours! How neat is that?!
Got an e-mail from a storytelling pal who is compiling a list of love stories. I wrote up summaries of Little Mermaid (the Hans Christian Anderson version), Tam Lin, Psyche and Eros, Pygmalion, plus Sir Gawain and Dame Ragnell and sent them her way yesterday. Now she needs my sources. Ooops. As an English teacher, and storyteller, I should have known to get them to her immediately. I have to do that next.
But right now I’ll read the rest of the storytelling list serve messages, enjoy my English toffee flavored coffee and the rest of my banana nut muffin. I’ve been up nearly 2 hours already and accomplished so little. It’s no wonder my master’s thesis isn’t done yet.
7:24 a.m. I just finished 50 messages from Socknitters (a list serve for people who knit socks). Found a handful of answers to a question I posted yesterday about making socks out of cotton yarn (as I usually knit with wool and prefer wool I’ve spun to commercially spun yarn). I knit because I like it and spin yarn on a spinning wheel, like in the fairy tales, but I can’t spin gold (darn it all) and no little strange men are asking for my firstborn. (Which is good since I’m sterile.) Anyway, I still must shower! Time to go!
8:16 a.m. Whew! I’ve been up three hours now and still haven’t started on my thesis. It’s not looking promising, either. Anyway, the shower is done and my hair is set. Yes, in rollers. The ugly foam kind. Most women won’t admit it, but it’s a heck of a lot of work trying to look nice. If anyone thinks looking good isn’t work, they’re wrong. So many movie stars are butt ugly without make-up and their hair done up but still, countless women and men think they should just look great when they roll out of bed. Bullplucky! It ain’t gonna happen. Ever. I know, my head shots for storytelling are gorgeous. That photographer is a magician. Each year I show them to my students and each time one of the little angels blurts out, “That’s you?! You look like a model,” and then they look at my face, then the picture, then my face, until I finally say, “It’s just good make-up, honey. With good make-up and a great photographer we can all look like that.”
The secretary at school just called to ask a few questions. It seems the boss (principal) is gone until Thursday. I just may run up there and check things out. (No, not with the rollers in, and probably not today.) I’d like to see Cheryl, the boss, but it doesn’t seem like it will happen too soon. The secretary is a gem. I love her already. I can’t wait to start there, though I haven’t planned a thing yet. I guess I have a month, but the Virgo in me hates being unprepared. I just hope I love it there as much as I think I will. Starting a new school is just as stressful for teachers as it is for kids. Maybe even more so.
The dishwasher is running. Had to change the paper in the rabbit cage. It seems I didn’t secure her water bottle well enough and about 4 oz soaked the paper. Drats! [I’m trying not to swear. If I do it at home it might inadvertently slip out at school. Though my big laugh for last week was the news report that Cheney said the F-word at Patrick Leahy. Leahy is a distant, shirttail relation of my father’s. If my father’s family’s temperament is any indication as to Leahy’s, I can see why someone might sling the F-word in the direction. They’re all bull-headed but funny! Listening to my grandmother and her son, my uncle, go at it as I grew up was like the lines from “Grumpy Old Men.” They’d fuss and grumble but in the end, they all really love each other. I so miss my grandma. She was a knitter. I should have learned from her but never got around to it when I was home. I taught myself from a book. Still, I have the last pair of mittens she ever made me in my trunk and dad gave me her knitting needles. I looked at the needles two weeks ago and noticed two pair came from the same county I’ll be teaching in. Some people think objects can make you change your direction in life. For example, one friend wanted red dirt from Arizona when I lived there. She said she’d always wanted to go and heard if you had dirt from a place that your life would take you there. So, perhaps the needles brought me here. Of course, it all could be a bunch of hooey.]
Okay, did I get off track or what? Time to do my citations for Jackie before the copyright police hunt us down. LOL!
9:30 a.m. Just got the citations done and took time to check e-mail. A woman on Socknitters wants to learn how to spin yarn with a hand spindle but has no one to teach her. I wrote what I could and told her I’d look for a website. I really don’t think I’ll get a darned thing done on my thesis today. If my body were as busy as my head I’d weigh 70 lbs soaking wet. No wonder I get mentally drained!
Dinner…I know it’s not even 10 a.m. but Brandon will be ready for dinner when he comes home around 3 p.m. Ooops. I forgot, I have to pick him up today. I’ve got the truck. It’s my truck but it has a/c and his car doesn’t, so he takes it to work when I’m home working on my thesis – or whatever it is I manage to waste the hours doing each day. Maybe I can talk him into taking me out to eat tonight. If I get my hair and make-up done and dress like a real girl (dress, hose, shoes) instead of a redneck (T-shirt, jeans, hiking boots), he might even be extra glad to come home. He loves me no matter how I look but we both smile more when I take the time to go the extra mile, and since it is summer vacation for me, I certainly can afford the effort.
10 a.m. Okay, I at least e-mail my thesis advisors. That’s a start. I also had to take time to respond to a list member on how to unsubscribe. I think it’s funny out of all the members out there that she wrote to me. I don’t know her and I know she doesn’t know me. Hmmmm. There must be something psychological about whom we feel safe asking those kinds of questions.
The alarm clock just went off. I set it so I could turn on the local oldies station. Each day they have an hour where they’ll play a certain song. If you’re the 6th caller you get $500! No, I’ve never gotten it to ring even once, but I remain optimistic. If I win I suppose I’ll have to split it with Brandon since he does the calling when I’m busy. Too bad, because my dream mixer is about $500. Yes, I said mixer. It’s a stand mixer, with a 7-qt bowl and 1000 watts of power! Vrooom! I know, you’re rolling your eyes, aren’t you? I’m excited by power tools too. I’m the only gal I know that loves hardware stores more than her husband does and is silly enough to set her hair in rollers and give herself pedicures all in the same day.
11:02 a.m. I didn’t get through this time either. In fact, as soon as the song comes on I turn off the radio as I’m dialing. If their goal is to get more listeners I can tell them it only works for that one hour per day. I’m not real fond of the oldies. Of course, when I’m nursing home age there’ll be someone who’ll look as a shiny faced teenager saying, “Son, now Tool and Tori Amos, that’s music!” and minutes later that same senior will be pushing his or her walker down the hallway singing, “Crucify myself, every day. I crucify myself…”
I did, however, just paint another coat of red and a coat of yellow on my shelf that will be on the wall above my computer. Think Mexican artwork, you’ll get the picture.
I’ve got to sit under my drier now. I refuse to go around all day with these ugly rollers in. Besides, I can knit while my hair dries. (All great women multi-task.) I’m working on a baby blanket for my cousin’s little girl, due in October. Baby Sophia is her name. It’s nice to have a little girl come into the family. Right now there are 4 boys. Poor girl is doomed when it comes to family outings: grandmas pinching her cheeks and cousins ready to pummel her. Ah, the joys of childhood.
12:10 p.m. I have to get Brandon in two hours.
He’ll say, “So, what did you do today, honey?”
“Gee, dear, after I did my hair and put enough hair spray on to shellac a ship, I didn’t have much time left. Sorry. I didn’t cook dinner either. We have lots of leftovers, though, ” she smiled innocently.
So much for June Cleaver!
I finally forced myself to look at today’s headlines. I don’t get the paper nor do I have TV - on purpose. I get nothing done as it is, besides, I have no control over anyone else’s lives and the news is always depressing. Looks like the Marine that was held hostage has been executed. Like this is a surprise. Yesterday they had an appeal from his father on the news. It made me want to choke a reporter. What kind of insensitive jerk asks a parent to do an appeal when everyone knows you can’t negotiate with a kidnapper, especially one labeled a “terrorist” who is angry at our governmental policies? I guess some thought because sovereignty was handed over two days early that the kid had a chance. No such luck. I can’t wait until Election Day. Maybe we can make some changes that will get these folks back home. No one but the government heads win anything in war.
12:31 p.m. Jackie just wrote and didn’t see my citations. I panicked. Then she wrote right back and said she’d missed the message they were in. Whew! Cyberspace is such a weird thing. I depend on it far too much. My thesis advisor also e-mailed and said he is sending me edits via e-mail as well. It is easier and more productive than meeting him to tell me what he’s already written down anyway.
1:22 p.m. Still haven’t had lunch. For the last hour I’ve been doing my make-up and getting dressed. I went from black tights (yeah, I know it’s June), black skirt, black heeled sandals and a red top through multiple variations down to a loden green lacy top, jeans and silver heeled sandals. With my dark, curly hair, it looks a bit like Betty Boop crossed with Sally Fields in “Smokey and the Bandit” but it’ll work. I was trying to hide the little belly I seem to have developed overnight. Turns out it’s that time of the month again. (So, I have an excuse for the bloated feeling.) I wouldn’t have issues with this but it just ended on Saturday! For the last year I’ve gotten repeat performances of the hormones and all my doctor said was, “Well, you are getting older.” I just stared at her. I was born in 1968 not, ’58, and besides, mom didn’t go through her change until she was older than that! Whoever said female doctors understand women more was not entirely correct. Trust me.
3:27 p.m. Brandon is home. We just ate cheeseburgers, tater tots and drank soda. I at least had diet soda. That ought to help the blood sugar a wee bit. Besides, it’s lunch AND dinner. Oh, who am I kidding? Not a good nutritional move, but I don’t care.
Talked to Mom on the cell while I waited for Brandon to leave work. She wanted to know if I’d seen the Cheney/Leahy exchange. I told her I had and even e-mailed it to her. She never saw it. I’m telling you, e-mail is an odd thing. Sometimes people get what you send. Sometimes they don’t.
Okay, just re-sent those e-mails to mom and got a call from my best friend. She’s making sure I’m journaling. That’s sweet. I can’t believe she’s put up with me for 32 years, and we’ll only be 36 this summer! Nothing can replace a friend who’s been there, done that, knows it all, and loves you anyway.
4:31 p.m. Just finished painting again. This time it was a key “rack” – a wooden key with 4 hooks on it, in the same colors as the shelf: red, yellow, white, deep blue. I also did another coat of paint on the shelf. Painting one shelf takes forEVER! Dry wood just sucks up that paint like crazy.
Speaking of crazy, my friend just called again. She’s on her way over. For once she got out of work on time and can visit. Brandon just laid down for a nap. Wish him luck! We laugh too much and too loud when we get together. Dad used to call us Laverne and Squirrelly. Yup, I’m Squirrelly. Thanks, Dad.
6:51 p.m. My best friend just came for a visit. She cracks me up. The not funny part of what she was telling me, was how she has people who work for her that can’t write a sentence in long hand due to Instant Messaging. They also never use proper punctuation or capitalization. What a surprise! I have the same problem with the kids I teach. Everyone is in such a hurry to do everything that no one will even bother with the traditional forms of communication anymore. Okay, I’m sounding like an old lady. Guess I’m a child of my times, that’s all – as are the ones I teach.
Balanced the checkbook. Had a minor panic but all is well that ends well.
Hubby and I are headed out for a walk. We mall walk – like the old people, but it’s air conditioned and quiet, unlike the rest of the city. We are wimps. I admit it.
8:20 p.m. Brandon is in the shower and I’m getting ready to do my yoga. I’m terrible about keeping up with my daily practice when on school vacation. At least this school year I’ll get to head a yoga club. Last year they had about 30 kids in it, which is great for a school that houses only freshman. I’m sure my lack of practice is exactly why I am getting a belly. (Turns out I don’t have my cycle. Just spotting. Good on one level, not so good for the belly excuse.) Choices, choices. We make ‘em, we live with ‘em.
Anyway, after this I think it’s our nightly game of Scrabble, a good night to Poppet (bunny) and my llamas, and then bedtime. My llamas are not here with us, but I say good night to their picture each night. They’re in Colorado being boarded with a dear friend until we can bring them south. I miss them. They’re so gentle and playful. Halle Bopp, whom I call Hallie, might be preggers. I can’t wait to see her cria (baby). Llama babies are up, dry, nursing and scooting around the field in a matter of hours. Bet a lot fewer humans would be born if we were that fast in being fully mobile!
9:45 p.m. Well, it’s time for bed. 5 a.m. comes quickly. For all the kids of the world who wonder what their teachers actually do in the summertime, this day might be typical for some. Nothing fancy.
I beat Brandon at Scrabble. I hate it when I win - not that I ever try to lose, either. Poppet is already asleep. Last night Brandon said when she arranges the newspaper in the nesting area of her cage she is fixing her Fung Shui. He’s so funny. He also makes me smile. I would have never dated him if we hadn’t become friends first. We met via the Internet through a personals service. When we finally met in person I immediately came home and whined, “But he looks like Danny Bonaduche.” I was looking more for a Joe Penny, Robert Urich, or maybe even a Denzel-type. But I hit the jackpot. I say it was divine intervention. I laugh now when I say it because once I was interviewed for a storytelling event some half-wit reporter quoted me as saying “diving intervention.” Yeah. Like that makes sense to anyone in the world! Now it doesn’t matter what kind of intervention it was, or if he looks like Danny or not. He’s beautiful in my eyes and he’s all that is good in mankind. Thank you, G-d for this day, my husband and my life. Baruch ata Adonai eloheinu melach olam. (Blessed are you, Lord, Master of the Universe.)
Below is my diary from that day. I had to wait until after the book arrived on shelves to print what I wrote. I have, I believe, two whole sentences in the actual book. Nevertheless, if you want to know how we girlies think the book is a great place to start. My day diary is just full of my normal silliness, and is sure to convince the President that I am full of attitude but not smart enough, or organized enough, to be a threat to anyone save myself. (Rest assured W, the world is safe from me!)
Oh! Forgot to tell you the book title: This Day in the Life: Diaries from Women Across America. Details can be found at: www.thisdayinthelife.com and is in stores now. Pick up a copy and welcome to our world!
-Mel. Edwards
*************************************************
June 29th 2004 – TADAAAA! The Big Day has arrived.
**************************************************
1:30 a.m. Woke up to pee. I wonder if I went to bed too early (8: 30 p.m.) and hope I will sleep until the alarm goes off.
5 a.m. Alarm off. Hubby getting up. I’m a slug. After a month of sleeping in with no alarms, it’s time to get on track. By WHY today? Can’t we do this tomorrow? No. Didn’t think so.
5:05 a.m. I’m up. Bed is made. Bunny (yes, a real rabbit – a German angora cross) is up. (Her name is Poppet.) Morning bun-bun! Boy, are you ready to run around or what? Glad one of us is awake. Let mama pee and I’m all yours.
5:20 a.m. The bunny has run around the bathroom while I cleaned her 3’ long cage. As far as bunnies go, I suppose the cage is palatial, but she deserves it. She brings so much joy to our lives. I discovered she didn’t pee where I laid out shredded newspaper for nesting. Wish I learned that weeks ago when we got her. It would have saved a lot of work. Oh well. I’m learning, bun-bun. Mama is learning. Give me time.
5:35 a.m. Driving with hubby to work. He’s driving there and then I have my truck for the day. I look like such a redneck this morning. I just put my hair in a messy ponytail pulled jeans and hiking boots on with my nightshirt, which is actually a men’s gray undershirt. I haven’t even put on my wedding band yet. (Can’t sleep with it on because my fingers swell at night and when I wake it feels like a tourniquet.) Oh well. Kissed hubby good-bye, handed him his lunch bag and drove off. Today I’m being wild and going to buy some mammoth muffins. Gotta go to the ATM first, though.
6:25 a.m. Home again. Bought three muffins, one for this morning and one for hubby and me for tomorrow morning. Yummy! Tried to stop at the local bakery but they don’t open until 7 a.m. Rats. I love bakeries. Not just for eating their wares. I love to bake. I’m a frustrated pastry chef in-the-making, I guess.
6:45 a.m. Just checked e-mail. Got a note back from King Arthur Flour. I’d e-mailed and told them how much I loved their cookbook and what I had already made from it. One of the owner-operators wrote back and said thanks and that their goal was to educate cooks in the home (as opposed to chefs). She also said she’d share it with the rest of the company. That made my day. The Internet is so cool! I can write to company exec’s and get a note back within 24 hours! How neat is that?!
Got an e-mail from a storytelling pal who is compiling a list of love stories. I wrote up summaries of Little Mermaid (the Hans Christian Anderson version), Tam Lin, Psyche and Eros, Pygmalion, plus Sir Gawain and Dame Ragnell and sent them her way yesterday. Now she needs my sources. Ooops. As an English teacher, and storyteller, I should have known to get them to her immediately. I have to do that next.
But right now I’ll read the rest of the storytelling list serve messages, enjoy my English toffee flavored coffee and the rest of my banana nut muffin. I’ve been up nearly 2 hours already and accomplished so little. It’s no wonder my master’s thesis isn’t done yet.
7:24 a.m. I just finished 50 messages from Socknitters (a list serve for people who knit socks). Found a handful of answers to a question I posted yesterday about making socks out of cotton yarn (as I usually knit with wool and prefer wool I’ve spun to commercially spun yarn). I knit because I like it and spin yarn on a spinning wheel, like in the fairy tales, but I can’t spin gold (darn it all) and no little strange men are asking for my firstborn. (Which is good since I’m sterile.) Anyway, I still must shower! Time to go!
8:16 a.m. Whew! I’ve been up three hours now and still haven’t started on my thesis. It’s not looking promising, either. Anyway, the shower is done and my hair is set. Yes, in rollers. The ugly foam kind. Most women won’t admit it, but it’s a heck of a lot of work trying to look nice. If anyone thinks looking good isn’t work, they’re wrong. So many movie stars are butt ugly without make-up and their hair done up but still, countless women and men think they should just look great when they roll out of bed. Bullplucky! It ain’t gonna happen. Ever. I know, my head shots for storytelling are gorgeous. That photographer is a magician. Each year I show them to my students and each time one of the little angels blurts out, “That’s you?! You look like a model,” and then they look at my face, then the picture, then my face, until I finally say, “It’s just good make-up, honey. With good make-up and a great photographer we can all look like that.”
The secretary at school just called to ask a few questions. It seems the boss (principal) is gone until Thursday. I just may run up there and check things out. (No, not with the rollers in, and probably not today.) I’d like to see Cheryl, the boss, but it doesn’t seem like it will happen too soon. The secretary is a gem. I love her already. I can’t wait to start there, though I haven’t planned a thing yet. I guess I have a month, but the Virgo in me hates being unprepared. I just hope I love it there as much as I think I will. Starting a new school is just as stressful for teachers as it is for kids. Maybe even more so.
The dishwasher is running. Had to change the paper in the rabbit cage. It seems I didn’t secure her water bottle well enough and about 4 oz soaked the paper. Drats! [I’m trying not to swear. If I do it at home it might inadvertently slip out at school. Though my big laugh for last week was the news report that Cheney said the F-word at Patrick Leahy. Leahy is a distant, shirttail relation of my father’s. If my father’s family’s temperament is any indication as to Leahy’s, I can see why someone might sling the F-word in the direction. They’re all bull-headed but funny! Listening to my grandmother and her son, my uncle, go at it as I grew up was like the lines from “Grumpy Old Men.” They’d fuss and grumble but in the end, they all really love each other. I so miss my grandma. She was a knitter. I should have learned from her but never got around to it when I was home. I taught myself from a book. Still, I have the last pair of mittens she ever made me in my trunk and dad gave me her knitting needles. I looked at the needles two weeks ago and noticed two pair came from the same county I’ll be teaching in. Some people think objects can make you change your direction in life. For example, one friend wanted red dirt from Arizona when I lived there. She said she’d always wanted to go and heard if you had dirt from a place that your life would take you there. So, perhaps the needles brought me here. Of course, it all could be a bunch of hooey.]
Okay, did I get off track or what? Time to do my citations for Jackie before the copyright police hunt us down. LOL!
9:30 a.m. Just got the citations done and took time to check e-mail. A woman on Socknitters wants to learn how to spin yarn with a hand spindle but has no one to teach her. I wrote what I could and told her I’d look for a website. I really don’t think I’ll get a darned thing done on my thesis today. If my body were as busy as my head I’d weigh 70 lbs soaking wet. No wonder I get mentally drained!
Dinner…I know it’s not even 10 a.m. but Brandon will be ready for dinner when he comes home around 3 p.m. Ooops. I forgot, I have to pick him up today. I’ve got the truck. It’s my truck but it has a/c and his car doesn’t, so he takes it to work when I’m home working on my thesis – or whatever it is I manage to waste the hours doing each day. Maybe I can talk him into taking me out to eat tonight. If I get my hair and make-up done and dress like a real girl (dress, hose, shoes) instead of a redneck (T-shirt, jeans, hiking boots), he might even be extra glad to come home. He loves me no matter how I look but we both smile more when I take the time to go the extra mile, and since it is summer vacation for me, I certainly can afford the effort.
10 a.m. Okay, I at least e-mail my thesis advisors. That’s a start. I also had to take time to respond to a list member on how to unsubscribe. I think it’s funny out of all the members out there that she wrote to me. I don’t know her and I know she doesn’t know me. Hmmmm. There must be something psychological about whom we feel safe asking those kinds of questions.
The alarm clock just went off. I set it so I could turn on the local oldies station. Each day they have an hour where they’ll play a certain song. If you’re the 6th caller you get $500! No, I’ve never gotten it to ring even once, but I remain optimistic. If I win I suppose I’ll have to split it with Brandon since he does the calling when I’m busy. Too bad, because my dream mixer is about $500. Yes, I said mixer. It’s a stand mixer, with a 7-qt bowl and 1000 watts of power! Vrooom! I know, you’re rolling your eyes, aren’t you? I’m excited by power tools too. I’m the only gal I know that loves hardware stores more than her husband does and is silly enough to set her hair in rollers and give herself pedicures all in the same day.
11:02 a.m. I didn’t get through this time either. In fact, as soon as the song comes on I turn off the radio as I’m dialing. If their goal is to get more listeners I can tell them it only works for that one hour per day. I’m not real fond of the oldies. Of course, when I’m nursing home age there’ll be someone who’ll look as a shiny faced teenager saying, “Son, now Tool and Tori Amos, that’s music!” and minutes later that same senior will be pushing his or her walker down the hallway singing, “Crucify myself, every day. I crucify myself…”
I did, however, just paint another coat of red and a coat of yellow on my shelf that will be on the wall above my computer. Think Mexican artwork, you’ll get the picture.
I’ve got to sit under my drier now. I refuse to go around all day with these ugly rollers in. Besides, I can knit while my hair dries. (All great women multi-task.) I’m working on a baby blanket for my cousin’s little girl, due in October. Baby Sophia is her name. It’s nice to have a little girl come into the family. Right now there are 4 boys. Poor girl is doomed when it comes to family outings: grandmas pinching her cheeks and cousins ready to pummel her. Ah, the joys of childhood.
12:10 p.m. I have to get Brandon in two hours.
He’ll say, “So, what did you do today, honey?”
“Gee, dear, after I did my hair and put enough hair spray on to shellac a ship, I didn’t have much time left. Sorry. I didn’t cook dinner either. We have lots of leftovers, though, ” she smiled innocently.
So much for June Cleaver!
I finally forced myself to look at today’s headlines. I don’t get the paper nor do I have TV - on purpose. I get nothing done as it is, besides, I have no control over anyone else’s lives and the news is always depressing. Looks like the Marine that was held hostage has been executed. Like this is a surprise. Yesterday they had an appeal from his father on the news. It made me want to choke a reporter. What kind of insensitive jerk asks a parent to do an appeal when everyone knows you can’t negotiate with a kidnapper, especially one labeled a “terrorist” who is angry at our governmental policies? I guess some thought because sovereignty was handed over two days early that the kid had a chance. No such luck. I can’t wait until Election Day. Maybe we can make some changes that will get these folks back home. No one but the government heads win anything in war.
12:31 p.m. Jackie just wrote and didn’t see my citations. I panicked. Then she wrote right back and said she’d missed the message they were in. Whew! Cyberspace is such a weird thing. I depend on it far too much. My thesis advisor also e-mailed and said he is sending me edits via e-mail as well. It is easier and more productive than meeting him to tell me what he’s already written down anyway.
1:22 p.m. Still haven’t had lunch. For the last hour I’ve been doing my make-up and getting dressed. I went from black tights (yeah, I know it’s June), black skirt, black heeled sandals and a red top through multiple variations down to a loden green lacy top, jeans and silver heeled sandals. With my dark, curly hair, it looks a bit like Betty Boop crossed with Sally Fields in “Smokey and the Bandit” but it’ll work. I was trying to hide the little belly I seem to have developed overnight. Turns out it’s that time of the month again. (So, I have an excuse for the bloated feeling.) I wouldn’t have issues with this but it just ended on Saturday! For the last year I’ve gotten repeat performances of the hormones and all my doctor said was, “Well, you are getting older.” I just stared at her. I was born in 1968 not, ’58, and besides, mom didn’t go through her change until she was older than that! Whoever said female doctors understand women more was not entirely correct. Trust me.
3:27 p.m. Brandon is home. We just ate cheeseburgers, tater tots and drank soda. I at least had diet soda. That ought to help the blood sugar a wee bit. Besides, it’s lunch AND dinner. Oh, who am I kidding? Not a good nutritional move, but I don’t care.
Talked to Mom on the cell while I waited for Brandon to leave work. She wanted to know if I’d seen the Cheney/Leahy exchange. I told her I had and even e-mailed it to her. She never saw it. I’m telling you, e-mail is an odd thing. Sometimes people get what you send. Sometimes they don’t.
Okay, just re-sent those e-mails to mom and got a call from my best friend. She’s making sure I’m journaling. That’s sweet. I can’t believe she’s put up with me for 32 years, and we’ll only be 36 this summer! Nothing can replace a friend who’s been there, done that, knows it all, and loves you anyway.
4:31 p.m. Just finished painting again. This time it was a key “rack” – a wooden key with 4 hooks on it, in the same colors as the shelf: red, yellow, white, deep blue. I also did another coat of paint on the shelf. Painting one shelf takes forEVER! Dry wood just sucks up that paint like crazy.
Speaking of crazy, my friend just called again. She’s on her way over. For once she got out of work on time and can visit. Brandon just laid down for a nap. Wish him luck! We laugh too much and too loud when we get together. Dad used to call us Laverne and Squirrelly. Yup, I’m Squirrelly. Thanks, Dad.
6:51 p.m. My best friend just came for a visit. She cracks me up. The not funny part of what she was telling me, was how she has people who work for her that can’t write a sentence in long hand due to Instant Messaging. They also never use proper punctuation or capitalization. What a surprise! I have the same problem with the kids I teach. Everyone is in such a hurry to do everything that no one will even bother with the traditional forms of communication anymore. Okay, I’m sounding like an old lady. Guess I’m a child of my times, that’s all – as are the ones I teach.
Balanced the checkbook. Had a minor panic but all is well that ends well.
Hubby and I are headed out for a walk. We mall walk – like the old people, but it’s air conditioned and quiet, unlike the rest of the city. We are wimps. I admit it.
8:20 p.m. Brandon is in the shower and I’m getting ready to do my yoga. I’m terrible about keeping up with my daily practice when on school vacation. At least this school year I’ll get to head a yoga club. Last year they had about 30 kids in it, which is great for a school that houses only freshman. I’m sure my lack of practice is exactly why I am getting a belly. (Turns out I don’t have my cycle. Just spotting. Good on one level, not so good for the belly excuse.) Choices, choices. We make ‘em, we live with ‘em.
Anyway, after this I think it’s our nightly game of Scrabble, a good night to Poppet (bunny) and my llamas, and then bedtime. My llamas are not here with us, but I say good night to their picture each night. They’re in Colorado being boarded with a dear friend until we can bring them south. I miss them. They’re so gentle and playful. Halle Bopp, whom I call Hallie, might be preggers. I can’t wait to see her cria (baby). Llama babies are up, dry, nursing and scooting around the field in a matter of hours. Bet a lot fewer humans would be born if we were that fast in being fully mobile!
9:45 p.m. Well, it’s time for bed. 5 a.m. comes quickly. For all the kids of the world who wonder what their teachers actually do in the summertime, this day might be typical for some. Nothing fancy.
I beat Brandon at Scrabble. I hate it when I win - not that I ever try to lose, either. Poppet is already asleep. Last night Brandon said when she arranges the newspaper in the nesting area of her cage she is fixing her Fung Shui. He’s so funny. He also makes me smile. I would have never dated him if we hadn’t become friends first. We met via the Internet through a personals service. When we finally met in person I immediately came home and whined, “But he looks like Danny Bonaduche.” I was looking more for a Joe Penny, Robert Urich, or maybe even a Denzel-type. But I hit the jackpot. I say it was divine intervention. I laugh now when I say it because once I was interviewed for a storytelling event some half-wit reporter quoted me as saying “diving intervention.” Yeah. Like that makes sense to anyone in the world! Now it doesn’t matter what kind of intervention it was, or if he looks like Danny or not. He’s beautiful in my eyes and he’s all that is good in mankind. Thank you, G-d for this day, my husband and my life. Baruch ata Adonai eloheinu melach olam. (Blessed are you, Lord, Master of the Universe.)
Thursday, April 13, 2006
Mighty Men
Mighty Men and Minotaurs are what this world doth need.
With awesome strength and confidence they'll overpower greed.
If anyone dare fight the beast,
they shall turn 'nto the feast.
Mighty Men and Minotaurs are what this world doth need.
Copyright 1986 Melissa A. Bentley
With awesome strength and confidence they'll overpower greed.
If anyone dare fight the beast,
they shall turn 'nto the feast.
Mighty Men and Minotaurs are what this world doth need.
Copyright 1986 Melissa A. Bentley
Wednesday, April 12, 2006
Twinkle
Twinkle, twinkle
Little Star.
Thank G-d you shine in space so far.
Or else they'd kill you.
They'd surely try.
Then your brightness would truly die.
Twinkle, twinkle
Little Star
Thank G-d you shine in space so far.
Copyright 1986 Melissa A. Bentley
Little Star.
Thank G-d you shine in space so far.
Or else they'd kill you.
They'd surely try.
Then your brightness would truly die.
Twinkle, twinkle
Little Star
Thank G-d you shine in space so far.
Copyright 1986 Melissa A. Bentley
Thursday, June 09, 2005
Article: Will You Tell Me a Story?
Will You Tell Me a Story?
by Mel Edwards
Copyright April 13, 2005. All rights reserved.
Parents and baby-sitters are begged nightly for a bedtime story. The first time a child I was caring for looked up and made his plea, my heart and mind began to race. What kind of story? A good one? What will he like? I frowned and offered, “I don’t know any stories. I would be happy to read one to you. Do you have any books?” At the time, I was relieved to learn that he had a small library in his room. I had no idea how vast my options truly were.
It was not until six years ago that I, a high school English teacher, was even made aware of the world of oral storytelling as a medium to entertain, educate and reach anyone I desired. By divine grace, it seems, a workshop for using storytelling in the classroom was offered as in-service training for my district’s faculty. I thought the workshop would be a fun and easy way to rack up my required training hours, fairly certain that I’d never really use storytelling in my high school classroom. Instead of an easily-forgotten workshop, I was given an entirely new direction in life.
What is storytelling?
Storytelling has been around for centuries as a way for news to travel, friends to connect and keep in touch and to entertain. Remember, the Iliad and Odyssey were not books, but stories that bards learned and passed from listener to listener. Long before the postmodern communication age, those who knew each other well would gather in the evenings and entertain themselves with tales from lore, and whenever a stranger was in their midst, he was often asked to spin yarns from his travels and experiences.
According to Joseph Sobol, the modern storytelling revival emerged in the early 1970s in America. Many tellers of that movement had been politically active during the Vietnam era and were less than thrilled with mass media as a form of entertainment. Seeking new ways to connect with friends and strangers alike, some focused upon keeping the oral tradition alive by any means necessary, telling for impromptu audiences of in city parks or to friends over dinner. Others developed audiences in libraries, school and worked their craft in auditoriums filled with listeners. The folk tale tradition offered ample material without the constraints of copyright hurdles.
As American media has changed and the founders of the movement aged, storytelling has evolved to include rap, mime, American Sign Language and multi-lingual stories shared around the world using some of the same communications that the founders often shunned in their daily lives. Stories spring forth in ever increasingly disparate venues and are not the playroom or bedside companions some of us naively believe them to be.
Where can I hear stories?
Those curious about storytelling should begin their listener’s journey close to home. If no one in your inner circle is a gifted teller, you may want to begin with a trip to your local public library for audio recordings of stories. The Internet also is rife with streaming media and downloadable tales. Established storytellers have videos, cassette tapes and cds available for sale via personal websites.
However, if you want to know the true joy of tellers’ skills, you should seek out live performances. There are local storytelling events in every state, and a National Storytelling Festival each October in Jonesborough, Tennessee. Contact your state arts council for information on events in your vicinity. However, don’t limit yourself to the locals. You may miss out on some extraordinary artists. The National Storytelling Network (NSN), cosponsors the national festival and maintains a database of professional storytellers and links to publishers of tales.
Not all stories or storytellers are alike. Do not be disheartened if you do not find a teller whose style and choice of material fail to resonate with you. However, be forewarned, that after one live storytelling event, you may be transformed while on the listener’s journey. I never anticipated that after a single trip to Jonesborough, I would have the urge to learn to spin my own verbal yarns.
What storytelling training is available?
The type of training a student desires will depend on what type of storyteller she wants to become. If graduate school sounds exciting, East Tennessee State University, in Johnson City, offers one of the only master’s degrees available in Storytelling. Your aspirations may be more humble. Great. Many colleges offer single classes or concentrations in the genre as well.
Those with more modest stores of time, energy and money for their craft can learn more specific skills directly from the professional tellers. Find a local teller whose style and personality matches yours and contact him about workshops he offers. If you do your research, you’re bound to click with someone who can not only mesmerize you as a listener but ignite your burning desire to become a skilled teller in your own right. Even if your loftiest goal is to tell merely for the joy of enthralling a toddler just once, a seminar or class still will help your reach your destination.
If you live in a remote area or your lifestyle has less flexibility, there is still hope. You may find through your local arts organizations, or via NSN, that a storytelling guild meets in your community. Publishers, such as August House, focus upon the world of story by offering tales you may learn to share, tomes on technique and tips and tricks on establishing storytelling in your community and classrooms. Web-based publishers, including Story-Lovers.com, offer the bare outlines or bones of tales for storytellers to learn for far less than most seminars or workshops would cost. Texas Women’s University also hosts a storytelling list-serve where serious students of the craft may speak with active tellers and event organizers or learn about the profession while lurking in the shadows until ready to introduce step up and be recognized.
Children can be trained to become performing tellers. Many schools offer storytelling electives. Tellers such as Karen Chace, of Massachusetts, is a professional teller who coaches a youth storytelling club and does so with the blessing of the school board, parents and teachers alike. Young tellers with skill and no fear of crowds can even earn a coveted slot at the Jonesborough festival in the Youthful Voices concert.
Now, the next time someone looks to you and says, “Tell me a story,” smile, breathe and know you’ve got this request covered. Whether you pop in a recording, pick up a publication or recall a tale you have told a hundred times, remember, it is all storytelling, and there are stories are for everyone.
Resources:
Baldwin, J. Bare Bones. Volumes 1-4. www.Story-Lovers.com
Chace, K. Professional Storyteller. www.StoryBug.com
National Storytelling Network. www.storynet.org
Sobol, J. (1999.) The Storyteller’s Journey: An American Revival. University of Illinois Press: Urbana.
by Mel Edwards
Copyright April 13, 2005. All rights reserved.
Parents and baby-sitters are begged nightly for a bedtime story. The first time a child I was caring for looked up and made his plea, my heart and mind began to race. What kind of story? A good one? What will he like? I frowned and offered, “I don’t know any stories. I would be happy to read one to you. Do you have any books?” At the time, I was relieved to learn that he had a small library in his room. I had no idea how vast my options truly were.
It was not until six years ago that I, a high school English teacher, was even made aware of the world of oral storytelling as a medium to entertain, educate and reach anyone I desired. By divine grace, it seems, a workshop for using storytelling in the classroom was offered as in-service training for my district’s faculty. I thought the workshop would be a fun and easy way to rack up my required training hours, fairly certain that I’d never really use storytelling in my high school classroom. Instead of an easily-forgotten workshop, I was given an entirely new direction in life.
What is storytelling?
Storytelling has been around for centuries as a way for news to travel, friends to connect and keep in touch and to entertain. Remember, the Iliad and Odyssey were not books, but stories that bards learned and passed from listener to listener. Long before the postmodern communication age, those who knew each other well would gather in the evenings and entertain themselves with tales from lore, and whenever a stranger was in their midst, he was often asked to spin yarns from his travels and experiences.
According to Joseph Sobol, the modern storytelling revival emerged in the early 1970s in America. Many tellers of that movement had been politically active during the Vietnam era and were less than thrilled with mass media as a form of entertainment. Seeking new ways to connect with friends and strangers alike, some focused upon keeping the oral tradition alive by any means necessary, telling for impromptu audiences of in city parks or to friends over dinner. Others developed audiences in libraries, school and worked their craft in auditoriums filled with listeners. The folk tale tradition offered ample material without the constraints of copyright hurdles.
As American media has changed and the founders of the movement aged, storytelling has evolved to include rap, mime, American Sign Language and multi-lingual stories shared around the world using some of the same communications that the founders often shunned in their daily lives. Stories spring forth in ever increasingly disparate venues and are not the playroom or bedside companions some of us naively believe them to be.
Where can I hear stories?
Those curious about storytelling should begin their listener’s journey close to home. If no one in your inner circle is a gifted teller, you may want to begin with a trip to your local public library for audio recordings of stories. The Internet also is rife with streaming media and downloadable tales. Established storytellers have videos, cassette tapes and cds available for sale via personal websites.
However, if you want to know the true joy of tellers’ skills, you should seek out live performances. There are local storytelling events in every state, and a National Storytelling Festival each October in Jonesborough, Tennessee. Contact your state arts council for information on events in your vicinity. However, don’t limit yourself to the locals. You may miss out on some extraordinary artists. The National Storytelling Network (NSN), cosponsors the national festival and maintains a database of professional storytellers and links to publishers of tales.
Not all stories or storytellers are alike. Do not be disheartened if you do not find a teller whose style and choice of material fail to resonate with you. However, be forewarned, that after one live storytelling event, you may be transformed while on the listener’s journey. I never anticipated that after a single trip to Jonesborough, I would have the urge to learn to spin my own verbal yarns.
What storytelling training is available?
The type of training a student desires will depend on what type of storyteller she wants to become. If graduate school sounds exciting, East Tennessee State University, in Johnson City, offers one of the only master’s degrees available in Storytelling. Your aspirations may be more humble. Great. Many colleges offer single classes or concentrations in the genre as well.
Those with more modest stores of time, energy and money for their craft can learn more specific skills directly from the professional tellers. Find a local teller whose style and personality matches yours and contact him about workshops he offers. If you do your research, you’re bound to click with someone who can not only mesmerize you as a listener but ignite your burning desire to become a skilled teller in your own right. Even if your loftiest goal is to tell merely for the joy of enthralling a toddler just once, a seminar or class still will help your reach your destination.
If you live in a remote area or your lifestyle has less flexibility, there is still hope. You may find through your local arts organizations, or via NSN, that a storytelling guild meets in your community. Publishers, such as August House, focus upon the world of story by offering tales you may learn to share, tomes on technique and tips and tricks on establishing storytelling in your community and classrooms. Web-based publishers, including Story-Lovers.com, offer the bare outlines or bones of tales for storytellers to learn for far less than most seminars or workshops would cost. Texas Women’s University also hosts a storytelling list-serve where serious students of the craft may speak with active tellers and event organizers or learn about the profession while lurking in the shadows until ready to introduce step up and be recognized.
Children can be trained to become performing tellers. Many schools offer storytelling electives. Tellers such as Karen Chace, of Massachusetts, is a professional teller who coaches a youth storytelling club and does so with the blessing of the school board, parents and teachers alike. Young tellers with skill and no fear of crowds can even earn a coveted slot at the Jonesborough festival in the Youthful Voices concert.
Now, the next time someone looks to you and says, “Tell me a story,” smile, breathe and know you’ve got this request covered. Whether you pop in a recording, pick up a publication or recall a tale you have told a hundred times, remember, it is all storytelling, and there are stories are for everyone.
Resources:
Baldwin, J. Bare Bones. Volumes 1-4. www.Story-Lovers.com
Chace, K. Professional Storyteller. www.StoryBug.com
National Storytelling Network. www.storynet.org
Sobol, J. (1999.) The Storyteller’s Journey: An American Revival. University of Illinois Press: Urbana.
Article: How to Run Away -- Responsibly
Synopsis: Some days we wake up and want to run away from our lives. Most of us don’t, and live productive lives within the bounds of our discontent. Those of us with a sense of responsibility and a wild hare can still change our lives, but need to do so in a manner that fits our life goals. Though research, careful planning and execution, you can change your life, maintain your sanity and be the envy of those who are too chicken to take the plunge.
How to Run Away -- Responsibly
by Mel Edwards
Copyright April 14, 2005. All rights reserved.
Woulda, coulda, shoulda are three ugly terms that can drive a good person to the brink. If you are truly miserable or simply want something “more” out of life, you do not have to remain where you are, doing what you have been for the rest of your life - even if you have a family or a budget book packed with commitments.
Identify What You Want
Wise people know a good road map is essential to reaching your destination. With life planning, the same sentiment holds true. Don’t just pack a bag, walk out the door and hope for the best. If your irresponsibility doesn’t irk your landlord, friends and family, at some later point in life, your own conscience may turn on you.
If there is anyone else in your life who will be effected by the move, discuss it with them. If you want them to join you, ask but be prepared to find they are not mentally or emotionally willing to join in on your new adventure. If you are moving alone, make sure you have no legal ties to their well-being before you make your exit. Otherwise, your entire plan is doomed.
Why Move?
Answering this question with frankness is a must before doing something you may later regret. As the old saying goes, “Wherever you go, there you are.” If your source of discontent is your age, weight, social status, boredom etc., a move may not resolve the problem. You may be better off seeking assistance in familar surroundings. However, if you hate the weather, cannot find work in your field of expertise or want to live in a different social climate, hauling yourself out of town may be your wisest move.
Make Your Reasons List
Santa Claus wasn’t the only list keeper in history. The best way to delineate your thoughts is to write them down. Sure, by going through the first step of asking yourself mentally why you desire to move and what your want out of such a shift are ground level steps in the process, but if you haven’t written it down, you may still be in for a shock.
Grab a sheet of paper, or better yet, a small notebook, and write all the reasons you can think of for moving. Then write all the benefits you expect to reap as a result of leaving town. Don’t leave anything out. If your neighbor is a smoker and you despise the fact that you can smell it through the air vents between your apartments, write it down. If you have always lived in the same town but dream of the hustle and bustle of a metropolis, write that down too. Whatever is imporant enough to motivate your move is imporant enough to record on this list.
Before you make another move, read your list. Carefully. Cross out anything you made up in the heat of the moment that does not really matter to you. Add anything related to your personal ideals which you have forgotten when griping about your daily irksome details.
Make a Commitment
Now ask yourself, “Do I really and truly want to do this?” Let’s face it, none of us gets off this plane alive. On your death bed, will your last comment be, “I should have stayed at home?” This possiblity exists no matter what you decide, but your gut and your head should be in agreement on this point. Without agreement, you face a difficult time ahead. With it, the world can be a marvelous place.
If your resolution is to not make the move, I suggest you shred that list. It has served its purpose. Time to move on.
Yet, if your soul still cries, “Get me out of this place!” Hang on to it. You’ve got a long way to go, baby.
Decide What You Need to Know
Okay, you’ve listed your reasons, reviewed them and now is when the real fun starts. You will now create a new list. This one is for what you need to know before you can make a change that will effect every aspect of your life. Some basic questions are: Where will you live? Will you rent or buy a home? Do you need gainful employment? If so, doing what? How much do you need to make to keep up with your current bills that won’t be left in your wake?
If someone is going with you, please, have them make a list relevant to their needs. Otherwise, if only one of you has all your heart desires in your new home, realtionship struggles will surely lie ahead.
Research
Once you have finished your list, it is time to get some answers that are reliable. If you haven’t visited your public library in a while, you may be surprised to see how many resources are available for free. Consult newspapers, magazines and phone books from the geographic regions you are most interested in. Some of these are available electronically, while others may be in hard copy format in the reference section. Don’t waste an afternoon hunting around aimlessly for answers. Begin by asking the reference librarian. He/She can save time, energy and help keep your blood pressure in check by pointing out the best solutions to your research needs.
Book stores have entire sections dedicated to travel, subdivided by region and nation. Take your time looking at what is available and try not to buy the first book you see about a region you think you might want to live in. Discretion will save a bundle in the long run.
Finally, the Internet now allows friendships to be made with people you would not have ever gotten to know without it. Log on to the web and find groups with similar interests, values and goals. Yahoo!Groups alone hosts hundreds of such forums.
Once you make a few friends, start asking the little questions which mean a good deal to your quality of life. Sometimes you can get lucky and meet a person who lives in the exact local you plan to run to. Their insider’s view may be invaluable and you may have a house-warming party planned before you lift a single box. However, keep in mind that we all have different outlooks. One man’s prison is another man’s hallowed hall of delight.
Getting it All Together
So, you know where you are going, maybe even have a job lined up and have secured a place to live. Now, the hard part comes: Moving day. Before moving, you will decide what to take with you.
I know one single, young man who filled his hatchback and moved across country paying only for the fuel to get there. He moved into a hotel that rented long and short term. He didn’t need to bring any furniture, gained maid service and a kitchenette for less than $150 a week, and he reasoned, if he didn’t love the place, there were other hotels in town which would allow him the same conveniences without the commitment of a long-term lease.
Most Americans, however, are consumers first and foremost. That leaves us with stuff to move. Your research should have told you how far you are going, when you want to be there and what your budget for the trip and life, once re-established, will be. A little more investigation will also tell you if movers will do the hauling for you or if you will rent a truck and do it yourself.
Beware of movers who seem “too good to be true” and check with the Better Business Bureau for complaints about any moving company that has not been recommended by a close friend of family member who has personally used their service. Nationally televised news programs have profiled several companies who quote rock bottom rates for the move and then hold customer’s goods hostage for an unanticipated balloon “payment” once the destination has been reached. Such companies have cost unsuspecting folks between a rock and a hard place and some have lost thousands of dollars in the legal battle to get their belongings returned.
Be Patient
When the moving day finally arrives, whether you will be directly involved with the hauling or not, anticipate minor setbacks. Inclement weather, flat tires, construction on the roads and furniture that doesn’t move quite as easily as you imagined, all can delay the packing and transportation of your worldly goods.
You should also consider that fatigue and stress will alter your plans as well. My husband and I have moved four times in less than three years. We never, ever argue about anything - until one of us has an armload of junk and is depending upon the other to make a move to assist or get out of the way on moving day. A two hour delay at the truck rental agency the day of our last move left us hot and exhausted at the time we had planned to drive across the state.
Instead of moving that night, we dug back through the truck, found pillows and blankets and slept on the floor. We used our cell phone, because our landline had been disconnected that morning, to call our new rental agency and tell them we were unexpectedly delayed a day. Luckily, the complex we were leaving had a manager who was delightful and had no qualms about us spending another evening in our apartment free of charge.
As a result of the mental and emotional hurdles from that relocation event, we have sworn that NEXT time we will pay someone to load our belongings for us - even if it costs us double what self-moving tallies would. Why? Our relationship is worth far more than a movers bill could ever be.
Celebrate!
Whether you find yourself migrating to a new home to move up in your career path, find adventure, true love or something no one else may understand, careful planning and sound reasoning are bound to create a strong pathway for the life you desire to live. Be proud of the hard work you have done to get there. Look back at the hurdles and laugh as you recall all you have accomplished - alone or with help. Be certain that you will find all that you are looking for in your new home, and celebrate how far you’ve come to reach your goals.
* * *
Bio of Author: Mel Edwards is a teacher, writer and storyteller. She has lived in New York, Arizona, Montana, Tennessee and South Carolina. Her love of people and practice with relocating across the continent make her the perfect author for this piece.
How to Run Away -- Responsibly
by Mel Edwards
Copyright April 14, 2005. All rights reserved.
Woulda, coulda, shoulda are three ugly terms that can drive a good person to the brink. If you are truly miserable or simply want something “more” out of life, you do not have to remain where you are, doing what you have been for the rest of your life - even if you have a family or a budget book packed with commitments.
Identify What You Want
Wise people know a good road map is essential to reaching your destination. With life planning, the same sentiment holds true. Don’t just pack a bag, walk out the door and hope for the best. If your irresponsibility doesn’t irk your landlord, friends and family, at some later point in life, your own conscience may turn on you.
If there is anyone else in your life who will be effected by the move, discuss it with them. If you want them to join you, ask but be prepared to find they are not mentally or emotionally willing to join in on your new adventure. If you are moving alone, make sure you have no legal ties to their well-being before you make your exit. Otherwise, your entire plan is doomed.
Why Move?
Answering this question with frankness is a must before doing something you may later regret. As the old saying goes, “Wherever you go, there you are.” If your source of discontent is your age, weight, social status, boredom etc., a move may not resolve the problem. You may be better off seeking assistance in familar surroundings. However, if you hate the weather, cannot find work in your field of expertise or want to live in a different social climate, hauling yourself out of town may be your wisest move.
Make Your Reasons List
Santa Claus wasn’t the only list keeper in history. The best way to delineate your thoughts is to write them down. Sure, by going through the first step of asking yourself mentally why you desire to move and what your want out of such a shift are ground level steps in the process, but if you haven’t written it down, you may still be in for a shock.
Grab a sheet of paper, or better yet, a small notebook, and write all the reasons you can think of for moving. Then write all the benefits you expect to reap as a result of leaving town. Don’t leave anything out. If your neighbor is a smoker and you despise the fact that you can smell it through the air vents between your apartments, write it down. If you have always lived in the same town but dream of the hustle and bustle of a metropolis, write that down too. Whatever is imporant enough to motivate your move is imporant enough to record on this list.
Before you make another move, read your list. Carefully. Cross out anything you made up in the heat of the moment that does not really matter to you. Add anything related to your personal ideals which you have forgotten when griping about your daily irksome details.
Make a Commitment
Now ask yourself, “Do I really and truly want to do this?” Let’s face it, none of us gets off this plane alive. On your death bed, will your last comment be, “I should have stayed at home?” This possiblity exists no matter what you decide, but your gut and your head should be in agreement on this point. Without agreement, you face a difficult time ahead. With it, the world can be a marvelous place.
If your resolution is to not make the move, I suggest you shred that list. It has served its purpose. Time to move on.
Yet, if your soul still cries, “Get me out of this place!” Hang on to it. You’ve got a long way to go, baby.
Decide What You Need to Know
Okay, you’ve listed your reasons, reviewed them and now is when the real fun starts. You will now create a new list. This one is for what you need to know before you can make a change that will effect every aspect of your life. Some basic questions are: Where will you live? Will you rent or buy a home? Do you need gainful employment? If so, doing what? How much do you need to make to keep up with your current bills that won’t be left in your wake?
If someone is going with you, please, have them make a list relevant to their needs. Otherwise, if only one of you has all your heart desires in your new home, realtionship struggles will surely lie ahead.
Research
Once you have finished your list, it is time to get some answers that are reliable. If you haven’t visited your public library in a while, you may be surprised to see how many resources are available for free. Consult newspapers, magazines and phone books from the geographic regions you are most interested in. Some of these are available electronically, while others may be in hard copy format in the reference section. Don’t waste an afternoon hunting around aimlessly for answers. Begin by asking the reference librarian. He/She can save time, energy and help keep your blood pressure in check by pointing out the best solutions to your research needs.
Book stores have entire sections dedicated to travel, subdivided by region and nation. Take your time looking at what is available and try not to buy the first book you see about a region you think you might want to live in. Discretion will save a bundle in the long run.
Finally, the Internet now allows friendships to be made with people you would not have ever gotten to know without it. Log on to the web and find groups with similar interests, values and goals. Yahoo!Groups alone hosts hundreds of such forums.
Once you make a few friends, start asking the little questions which mean a good deal to your quality of life. Sometimes you can get lucky and meet a person who lives in the exact local you plan to run to. Their insider’s view may be invaluable and you may have a house-warming party planned before you lift a single box. However, keep in mind that we all have different outlooks. One man’s prison is another man’s hallowed hall of delight.
Getting it All Together
So, you know where you are going, maybe even have a job lined up and have secured a place to live. Now, the hard part comes: Moving day. Before moving, you will decide what to take with you.
I know one single, young man who filled his hatchback and moved across country paying only for the fuel to get there. He moved into a hotel that rented long and short term. He didn’t need to bring any furniture, gained maid service and a kitchenette for less than $150 a week, and he reasoned, if he didn’t love the place, there were other hotels in town which would allow him the same conveniences without the commitment of a long-term lease.
Most Americans, however, are consumers first and foremost. That leaves us with stuff to move. Your research should have told you how far you are going, when you want to be there and what your budget for the trip and life, once re-established, will be. A little more investigation will also tell you if movers will do the hauling for you or if you will rent a truck and do it yourself.
Beware of movers who seem “too good to be true” and check with the Better Business Bureau for complaints about any moving company that has not been recommended by a close friend of family member who has personally used their service. Nationally televised news programs have profiled several companies who quote rock bottom rates for the move and then hold customer’s goods hostage for an unanticipated balloon “payment” once the destination has been reached. Such companies have cost unsuspecting folks between a rock and a hard place and some have lost thousands of dollars in the legal battle to get their belongings returned.
Be Patient
When the moving day finally arrives, whether you will be directly involved with the hauling or not, anticipate minor setbacks. Inclement weather, flat tires, construction on the roads and furniture that doesn’t move quite as easily as you imagined, all can delay the packing and transportation of your worldly goods.
You should also consider that fatigue and stress will alter your plans as well. My husband and I have moved four times in less than three years. We never, ever argue about anything - until one of us has an armload of junk and is depending upon the other to make a move to assist or get out of the way on moving day. A two hour delay at the truck rental agency the day of our last move left us hot and exhausted at the time we had planned to drive across the state.
Instead of moving that night, we dug back through the truck, found pillows and blankets and slept on the floor. We used our cell phone, because our landline had been disconnected that morning, to call our new rental agency and tell them we were unexpectedly delayed a day. Luckily, the complex we were leaving had a manager who was delightful and had no qualms about us spending another evening in our apartment free of charge.
As a result of the mental and emotional hurdles from that relocation event, we have sworn that NEXT time we will pay someone to load our belongings for us - even if it costs us double what self-moving tallies would. Why? Our relationship is worth far more than a movers bill could ever be.
Celebrate!
Whether you find yourself migrating to a new home to move up in your career path, find adventure, true love or something no one else may understand, careful planning and sound reasoning are bound to create a strong pathway for the life you desire to live. Be proud of the hard work you have done to get there. Look back at the hurdles and laugh as you recall all you have accomplished - alone or with help. Be certain that you will find all that you are looking for in your new home, and celebrate how far you’ve come to reach your goals.
* * *
Bio of Author: Mel Edwards is a teacher, writer and storyteller. She has lived in New York, Arizona, Montana, Tennessee and South Carolina. Her love of people and practice with relocating across the continent make her the perfect author for this piece.
Poem: Dusk at the Maimed ‘Coon Cafe
Husband’s eyes exceeded his orbitals.
A three-legged derelict entered our lot.
Twisting to the right, ever-so-nonchalant,
“Oh!”
Exclamation revealing all.
Pointless to query,
I drew Husband back to our
after-dinner chat.
Less callous dilettantes dine in Ossining,
you know.
Words easily served -
ring-tailed vagrant out of view.
If thought lightens burden,
we assisted
in securing a suitable supper,
as he hunched, stretched and
pogo-legged his way buildingward.
Nod to Husband,
“When he knocks on your breakroom door,
he’s gone too far.”
Laughter -fills our bellies.
And Guilt belches an appropriate aftertaste.
-Mel. Edwards
6/9/05
Backstory to “Dusk at the Maimed ‘Coon Cafe”
I had driven to my husband’s place of work to bring him dinner when this supposedly wild creature joined our view. I found myself nervous that he might be rabid, but more sickened by his physical state and need to scavenge. Yet, my fear kept me from leaving my vehicle to offer a morsel and my guilt kept trying to take my mind anywhere outside of his world - where I was willing to bet a “civilized” being had maimed him and our disgustingly unhealthy diet had polished him off - at least in function if not form.
A three-legged derelict entered our lot.
Twisting to the right, ever-so-nonchalant,
“Oh!”
Exclamation revealing all.
Pointless to query,
I drew Husband back to our
after-dinner chat.
Less callous dilettantes dine in Ossining,
you know.
Words easily served -
ring-tailed vagrant out of view.
If thought lightens burden,
we assisted
in securing a suitable supper,
as he hunched, stretched and
pogo-legged his way buildingward.
Nod to Husband,
“When he knocks on your breakroom door,
he’s gone too far.”
Laughter -fills our bellies.
And Guilt belches an appropriate aftertaste.
-Mel. Edwards
6/9/05
Backstory to “Dusk at the Maimed ‘Coon Cafe”
I had driven to my husband’s place of work to bring him dinner when this supposedly wild creature joined our view. I found myself nervous that he might be rabid, but more sickened by his physical state and need to scavenge. Yet, my fear kept me from leaving my vehicle to offer a morsel and my guilt kept trying to take my mind anywhere outside of his world - where I was willing to bet a “civilized” being had maimed him and our disgustingly unhealthy diet had polished him off - at least in function if not form.
Tuesday, April 05, 2005
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