Bee Cuz I'm anticipating Spring

At Nikki's colorguard show, I came up with an idea for a really "crappy" show, but no one liked my idea. Today when I was running, "Flight of the Bumblebee" came on and I remembered the Clash of the Choirs before Christmas and how the Cincinnati team did the song accapalla. It was cool and, lo and behold, i found it online. So, now I'm picturing Nikki and her colorguard dressed as funky bees performing a manic, busy, buzzed show with black goggles. That would make me happy. Here's the song as it appeared on NBC.

Missing a little step in my stride

Last night, I went to NSJH for a colorguard competition. My niece was awesome and the show was great, but it missed a lot of the greatness I'm used to from working in Louisville and in an urban setting. In particular, I think the colorguard art form needs to find a way to bring in step, rhythm and attitude. My white night made me crave an evening with steppers and spoken word artists. I offer a Toronto team performance today because they make me happy. I will always have a thing for step teams,

The Happiness of Julie Baker and John Denver

Cynde (my sister) and I went out to dinner last night. I told her about a John Denver song that came on the radio at the gym today and we both thought about Julie, her best friend, from high school. Cynde told me she has a picture of Julie holding up a cassette tape of John Denver and that his music was used at her wedding. We decided to make a mini-tribute to Julie and John from my laptop after dinner and over a beer. We hope the music, the memories, and the lip syncing make you as happy as it made us trying to remember the lyrics to this song -- a song that used to cast Cynde in flight from the top bed of her bunkbed-----fly away!.

first, second and turd draft

It eventually had to happen. I had to have a happiness post regarding my potty brain and scatological sense of humor. Maria, a colleague of mine, shared with me an essay her daughter wrote for her senior English class. I asked for permission to use it on this blog, and I was granted permission. Thank the great whatever that the Murray clan see life and writing as I do. I present the following, in its entirety, to put a smile on the faces of those who read it.

Disclaimer: If you are sensitive to hearing about bodily functions and are easily upset by it, do not continue reading this chapter and skip to the next one.

It was a nice evening in December and my family and I had just finished having chili at my mom’s best friend’s house. We were driving home in the dark in silence, enjoying the white snow falling lightly down against the darkness of the sky when all of a sudden it started. We all gagged at once and didn’t know what was going on until my father laughed. He had just attempted to kill the family by gassing us.

Luckily we turned into the driveway just in time and my mother, brother, and I ran to safety in her room upstairs. We could hear my father running up after us. We barricaded the door with our bodies while he was slamming against it to get in. When he figured his attempts were futile, the silence overcame us. We hesitated to go outside because we knew he’d be there waiting to gas us again. There was no way we’d survive a second gassing. Then all of a sudden - we heard movement, and a noise coming from underneath the door. He had somehow managed to direct the gas underneath into the door crack. We quickly grabbed pillows and pulled them to our noses while I found blankets and robes to stuff under the door. Finally, we were safe.


Disgruntled, we heard him walk down the stairs. My mom yelled down that he wasn’t sleeping upstairs tonight, and my brother and I were afraid to be alone in our rooms, so we quickly snuck outside into open territory and grabbed our sleeping gear. Retreating back into the safety of my mother’s room, we replaced the safety seal to the door and began to listen for the enemy downstairs. We heard the familiar creaking as he reclined in his chair. Had he settled in to watch T.V.?

I was the first to hear the creak of his chair. We then heard the basement door open slowly and wondered what on earth he could be doing. We didn’t hear him come upstairs though, so we considered ourselves safe. Perhaps he was just turning off the power or the hot water? Then, it hit us. The gas had somehow gotten upstairs into the room! We heard him tear up the stairs to hear our gags. My mom screamed out “How did you do that, you sick bastard?”

“Easy, the furnace’s cold air return.” Triumphantly.

Events like this are quite common in my family. We think nothing of farting or poop jokes other than that they are hilarious. Dinner table conversation? Of course! In front of new friends? Why not?


It is pretty much impossible to enter my house without experiencing this. No one has been bothered by it as far as I know; at least they all pretend to think it’s funny. My family thinks that people are weird if they do not enjoy a good laugh after hearing a fart. It never gets old.

But the real story goes on behind closed doors. Like the surprise gas attack, we find it best to shock each other with random gifts. For example, I once went to use the bathroom when I saw that the toilet seat was down and there was a sign taped on the lid saying “Mike’s Room, Do Not Flush,” in childish script. This should have warned me not to open the toilet but I really had to go. Tentatively peering into toilet I saw an interesting bowel movement sitting in the water. Apparently, my brother wanted to save this one as a pet. I heard him come running from his room. “Katy you can’t use that bathroom! Go downstairs!” Because I did not wish to fight with him in my current state of hurry, I obliged and agreed it would be funny to let my parents discover Mike the Turd for themselves.

Another time, I was woken up by the sound of shrieking laughter so intense that I couldn’t go back to sleep. I don’t think my mom was capable of breathing she was laughing so hard. Of course, I knew that I would be shown whatever they were laughing about and soon my mom came and summoned me. She told me that my dad had pooped a lizard, with a head, two arms, and a tail and it was bobbing its head up as if to breath. As repulsive as that sounds, it was pretty entertaining.

I can often tell when my mom has bad gas because she’ll come running into my room while I’m sleeping and demand that I sleep on the floor because “your father is snoring.” So because I can sleep anywhere and I am already so tired, I agree, and she gets into my bed while I settle in onto the floor. One particular time she began to quietly giggle and soon I found out why without needing to ask. She turned on the ceiling fan and quickly I began to gag. She had farted and turned on the fan in order to force the dense air down to the ground like smog near me. Soon she was in stitches while I was crying. Great memories.

My mom has a talent with gas. She usually goes through phases with her farts. What I mean by this is that she farts different noises. Legend has it that one time she farted the word “Mom.” My father thought that I was in the room asking for her. Another time, she went through a phase where her farts all sounded like a duck quacking. This was her favorite, and she was disappointed when it ended. Our parrot soon learned to imitate the phase that sounded like little bubbles coming up from the surface of water and popping. (There is no better way to describe this.) This phase has since ceased but the Twyla continues to carry on its legacy.

She also taught me important skills I can use to impress my friends. She taught me all about “wafting” – lifting a blanket gently with your feet to force the gas into the direction you require. “Cupping” requires farting into your hand and quickly covering the person’s nose and mouth next to you. They have no choice but to breathe in what’s in your hand. She has, in addition, perfected “throwing” her farts. No one else I know can do this, but it is exactly what it sounds like.


I can not pretend that I do not take part in my families’ passion for these things. As a young girl, I once indulged in too many cooked pumpkin seeds. I felt fine until about one in the morning. Mom awoke to hear me crying in the bathroom. I had terrible gas and I had more pain than I had ever felt before or since. She sat with me until we both thought I shattered the toilet seat with my fart. My dad was woken up by this and yelled to my mom to see if she was okay. He couldn’t believe it came out of me. I then went back into my bedroom feeling just fine and fell right asleep. None of us have ever heard anything as intense as that fart, and never expect to again. It’s now part of Murray Family History.

The 6th Period Balloon Throwback Memory

During the end of the day, Senior Creative writing and exhaustion, a hobby began where my students tried to carry forth with more learning, but it didn't occur unless we blew up a balloon and kept it afloat. This ritual became therapeutic, actually, and my reflection on it brings me happiness.

Balloons are good friends to have. The 'tives brought them in my house over Easter and I like bouncing them about -- hence this throwback. My sister's dog Gus, too, enjoys the endless fun he can have attacking them. Such a simple, cheap and easy way to find entertainment.

Looking at the three balloons floating about my house, I decided I'd reenact a Balloon-Volley festival, but I can say it is not thrilling to be a lone sportsman. Even so, bouncing a balloon about is joyous. I highly recommend it.

Happiness is a warm Puppy

I opted to google happiness tonight and click on images. I couldn't believe I found this book cover on the first page. As a kid, I used to go to my grandparents' house in Hamilton, New York, and one of my first rituals, after getting a hug, a kiss and a pat on the poo poo from Grannie Annie, was to read "Happiness is a Warm Puppy." I loved that book.

See, even as a wee one, I was on a pursuit of good times and positive energy.

I sent my dog to the Baby-sitters last night, a.k.a. my parents -- even so, happiness is a warm puppy. They currently have the warmth of that dog.

In reality, happiness is puppy breath, which Baby no longer has. Either way, if you have a warm fuzzy friend, be sure to hug him/her extra hard today.

Budding Optimism

Running yesterday, I noticed several of the trees are beginning to bud. It's still freezing here, but the trees are as anxious for spring as I am (and the frog who came to my driveway the other night....cold, barely moving, and in need of a warm house - note: I nursed him for two minutes and thought, what the heck am I doing with a frog in my house in March? I put him outside in a tree).

Anyway, things are about to bloom, and as I've always said, Spring is optimistic...Summer a lie, Fall, a promise and winter, the truth. I am looking forward to optimism again and as I looked out the window last night, I loved seeing the black silhouettes of the budding trees against the blue sky of a setting sun.

Bring on the better days.

Easter Bunny, Bawk Bawk

I haven't celebrated Easter in years. I haven't celebrated Easter with my family in over a decade. But, to stick with the plan laid out by my niece this summer, I had Easter dinner at my house (with a Cadbury egg in every coffee cup). I baked a ham, made creamed potatoes and set up a mini-eatery for the nine guests. They began arriving around noon and stayed long enough to find themselves duck taped and on my linoleum floor -- true story. We chopped wood, watched NCAA basketball, played Dweebs, Geeks and Weirdos, slept on the couch, and ate ourselves silly. I suppose some, hmmmm....hmmmm, hint hint, my sisters....hmmmm, hmmmmm, drank themselves silly, too.
It felt right to have this ritual occur at my house and even though I live like a hobbit, we all managed to fit on top of one another quite nicely. It's sort of interesting that I have the smallest house of everyone in my family, yet my holiday seemed to have the biggest staying time of guests. Perhaps I can credit this to the wine and beer.

Happiness is family....for sure (and the cheesecake helps).

Deep Thoughts

As I age, I find myself thinking more and more often about the brilliance of Jack Handey from Saturday Night Live where he promoted his intellectual brilliance. Deep Thoughts, by Jack Handey (click on the link to go to more) was profound insight that tends to be overlooked in our modern, cyber-global tomfoolery..

In 2008, we need more intelligent meandering and I'm all for additional insight for my life. I applaud Jack Handey and hope he continues to add wisdom to a world in much need of sage thinking.

I tried to post an actual clip of one of his thoughts from You Tube, but they are cheesy and there's nothing like the real thing, so I recommend visiting the Deep Thoughts by Jack Handey Website it is worth it.

Ah, Sea Food

The closer you live to an ocean (in my case the Atlantic), the fresher the sea food, in this case scallops, shrimp and Mali Mali. Dr. Felicia McMahon of the Clay Cow project, took me to dinner last night and the food was delicious. Honestly, I don't know if I've ever had better, plumper scallops. Yum. I'm still tasting them.

I love good see food, and I am remembering a time when Judy and I visited my relatives in Long Island and my cousin and his now wife, Sue, took us to the Clam Shack outside of Amagansett. Mark had surfed all day and when we were eating our mussels, his sinuses released all the salt water out of his nose and it poured into his lap. I never knew such a thing occur but in surfer-world, it's par for the course. While I was stewing over the strangeness of his nostril faucet, I bit into a muddy mussel that was all sea dirt and I ended up spitting it out into my napkin: Black goo. Another reality from the sea that I wasn't privy, too.

Last night, though, there was no drudge or saltine waterfall, it was only excellent sea food. Such delicacy makes me happy.

Post St. Patty's, All about Tonight

I grew up at the Clam Bar. I found Hacks and The Ratt while studying as an undergraduate at Binghamton University. It wasn't until I matured that I found the Irish Rover in Louisville, Kentucky. Here, I spent more money than I can justify on dinners, good beer, and atmosphere....and I regret that the only night I didn't go with Alice and Charlie, they were given a free meal (the joke was always because I WASN'T there). Either way, the Irish Rover in Louisville, Kentucky was my once, perhaps twice, ritual every week with my best friends. There, I can't even describe it, we talked non stop about life: humor, politics, ideas and growth. It was pure happiness. There was never a bad time.

Tonight, Alice and Charlie called me from the Rover and we caught up. I wish I could describe in words how much that atmosphere and the two of them mean to me. Not only the fish and chips, Smithwicks, Guinness, New Castle, and Harps, but the conversations that we could share out of ten years of building trust. Irish Rover nights justify a ritual that can not be captured in words. When they called tonight, and with knowledge they were at the Rover, I grabbed a beer out of the fridge and toasted the two them. We tried to talk as if I was there.

In heaven, there will be an Irish Rover. Alice, Charlie and I will be there, acting stupid, talking about issues that no one else will understand, and solving all the problems of the world. In my idea of Nirvana, good Irish ale and food will be omnipresent and the individuals I have to talk to will stimulate my thinking like these two do. What else can a living guy hope for?

to Scream or Not to Scream

I've tried to post this entry for over a week. I received the good advice that screaming is very cathartic and to yell is a good thing. So, I practiced, and you know what? Primal yelling is therapeutic and it releases endorphins which bring you back to silliness.

I recommending screaming. It will help.

Eggsellence

A change of plans resulted in decorating easter eggs last night. I haven't done that in years, and I don't think I've celebrated easter since I was in high school. It was that holiday where I was able to have an extra day to get grading done.

Tonight, my sister KC and her husband had their son dip eggs in vinegar for the first time. The faces that kid makes are priceless and you would think the exercise was the most amazing experience on earth.

I'm envious of those with children. They center the universe and put everything into perspective. Seeing him in such delight is irreplaceable.

Tis a strange holiday, but the ritual brings happy traditions and that is what it is all about.

National Geographic and A Moment of Clarity

Today, I thumbed through an issue of National Geographic and found a picture of a frog on a lily pad. On the next page, in Japanese, was a Matsuo Basho haiku from his series on frogs. It reads as follows:

Furu ike ya
kawazu tobikomu
mizu no oto

and can be translated as:

Listen! a frog
jumping into the stillness
of an ancient pond

Another translation is:

The old pond;
a frog jumps in -
the sound of water (amazing how many translations there are on this given haiku -- evidence of small ripples of importance, indeed).

I fell in love with this moment today because of my affinity for frogs (and Grannie Annie) but also my understanding of this ancient pond. Life is old and we humans, with the idea of rationality, ascribe it with history. Sitting on a lily pad or swimming through a pond, I have life only for a moment. How I move matters. Yet, tomorrow, new frogs will arrive and another generation of lily pads will exist. Only the pond remains constant. Like Siddhartha's river, it provides a serenity of "om" beyond my individuality. Those who use its resource(s) are never permanent, although their actions can cause a slight ripple, if only for a moment.

Sort of like the Shakespeare "Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow speech," eh?

Currently, I sit on a lily pad
I have a choice to jump.
For this moment, I'm choosing to appreciate the pond, itself, and not the ripples I make.

KEREN YOHANNES

Keren is here today! Rejoice!!

I didn't feel like bringing my laptop to her, and she didn't feel like getting up, so here is our photograph:



But wait! There's more!

I GOT INTO DEPAUL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I don't know if you untheatre people know what that means, but that is hella amazing. I still don't believe it. I don't have many other words to say about it, but I have never cried so much out of happiness. I was crying for hours.

So there you go. This has been a good day.

Stay happy!
Knight Rodrick of Gluecklich
(That means "happy" in German. Thank you, student exchange!)

Desserts

Yesterday, I had dinner with my family and it was followed by a slice of Cherry Pie....just like I remember it as a kid. Although I've aged, find myself more and more attuned to the insanity of the world, and go in and out of diets, I will say that there is nothing better than a slice of good cherry pie.

Well, it could be better if it was served hot with a scoop of ice cream and a sliver of good dark chocolate AND it also could be better with a strong cup of coffee, but I can't drink coffee after breakfast because it wires me so I can't sleep.

So, if I had a slice of cherry pie for breakfast served with a good cup of coffee, I could bypass the ice cream and chocolate.

I'm a huge fan of any meal that is put before me by someone else and I applaud my mother for keeping a nightly dinner tradition alive. She did this when I was young, while she was a working woman, and now in her retirement (although Dad might argue not as often as it used to occur, and mom would counterattack with, "Butch, you got hands. You can cook, too." And then they can decide to go out for food, but that is not the point of this entry.

Today, this morning, it is all about cherry pies. Yum and happiness, always.

O'Happiness, Ye Shamrocks

What has come to be known to me as my last youthful Hoorah, Amy Partin and I traveled the perimeter of Ireland before settling at Cambridge University for Shakespeare studies. One of our stops was at the Giant's Causeway, a rock feature in Northern Ireland caused by what is assumed to be hot lava during a period of time before Kentucky teachers were funded to make such excursions.

Here, Amy and I came to the conclusion that we were completely irritated with our Australian travel mate we picked up in Dublin, and together, we bonded as sojourners of an American truth. Going through Limerick, the Bay of Dingle, Galway, and coming from Wales and the trout farms of England, stopping here to see this sight was amazing. We had with us our crazy romp in Bunduran, too, and we were very much alive.

In honor of St. Patty's Day, I post this experience as a moment in time that was beyond any words I can find to describe it. Such an occasion was miraculous, indeed.

Welcome to My Childhood: Veruca Salt is Such a Hot Biotch!

This is a happy shout out to, perhaps, the snottiest brat ever, and God I love her. She's such a wench. And there's the classic Wonka line, "A little nonsense now and then, relished by the wisest men."

I can never get enough of this classic.

The Happy Digest

This issue of the Happy Digest will serve for all the entries I should have made since Monday.
1) I started a new video project. I don't know if I've mentioned it here yet, and I'm not going to promote it big time just yet, but I'm happy it's begun.
2) I'm in New York
2a) I'm discovering old memories, old friends
2ai) I've had my favorite falafel, I've been to my favorite restaurant, I'm going to be seeing my old friends, I went to my storage space, and rooting through those boxes was like seeing old friends as well
2b) I have a dope apartment. Most of the sublets start on April 1, so I got an short-term apt 'til then
3) Keren Yohannes and Lucy Richardson are coming up on Sunday and Tuesday, respectively, for their Spring break
3a) My apartment has a big bed, a loft bed, and a futon, so they won't be unhappy!
4) I'm living on my own. I've realized that I've wanted to have a place of my own for a long time. It sucks that it's for such a short time, but at least I have a place to call my own for a bit
5) Andrew Gott called me Tuesday and told me he was in NY! I hung out with him and his dad later that night and we went and looked at the Statue of Liberty. I hadn't seen Andrew since July, so this was very nice
6) Having company in town is always a good excuse for doing touristy things. I think the inner rebel in me just doesn't want to do the touristy things because everyone else does them. You know? I don't want to do ALL of them, but I went to the Top of the Rock(efeller), and I cannot deny how amazing that was.
Fun fact: did you know that Olmstead, the guy who designed Louisville's park system, designed Central Park too?
I also saw the Uofl/Pitt game last night at Madison Square Gardens (first time I'd been there). It was a lot of fun. Sucks that we lost, though.
7) I was the #24 most viewed channel in my category on YouTube yesterday

Stay happy everyone,
Her Happesty, the Queen

P.S. Why don't y'all comment and tell us why y'all're happy today?

Snow, by Maxence Fermine

Felicia Viscome, a teacher at the local junior high school, loaned me a copy of the book SNOW by Maxence Fermine. It is poetic, short and nicely done. I began it as soon as it landed in my hand and finished it quickly last night.

In short, (and it is short), the book is a love story of a haiku poet, his master, their understanding of love & snow (the women in their lives), and their fate. It felt good to read this story, although I'm not sure why, other than the fact that it is a piece of art. There's nothing like reading a piece of art.

And so, the memory of such snow, will be with me today.

on the mountain's edge
i tiptoe ~ tapdancing hope
before horizons

Hot Dog, the Sudanese Rapper from Canada

Working with the Syracuse Sudanese men yesterday on creating their own website, they turned me onto a Canadian Rapper named, Mijok Lang, a.k.a. "Hot Dog" (the only Western food he knew how to eat when he arrived). He has his MYSPACE site running his music and I was able to find a YOUTUBE video, too.

I post this this morning because the irony of a shrinking global village amazes me. Here are African refugees showing me YOUTUBE videos and creating websites to discuss their Americanization process, while juggling full time jobs, full time school, and sending money to their families in both Kakuma and Nairobi.

As I used to tell my students, knowing the Sudanese lost boy story is to know everything wonderful and horrible about America. My work with their culture keeps everything in perspective. I'm happy I've been inducted into such familiarity.

Check out Dominic's new blog: The Dinka Daily!!!

The Road to Happiness

This road is definitely not drawn to scale, but I'm using it symbolically at the opportunity to finally get back outside, on the pavement, to run. The temperature was about 35 degrees and after walking the dog a couple of miles I decided I could run to my sister's house and have her drive me home. I'm currently on spring break and IT FEELS SO AWESOME NOT TO BE ON CAMPUS EVERY SINGLE NIGHT OF THE WEEK!!!.

So, this afternoon I hit the road and made my way under open sky, along trees and by houses. My knees hurt a little bit because of the cold (I've been running on a treadmill all winter and didn't realize my legs would feel a difference).

There is nothing like fresh air and space to move. It beats running in place on an indoor machine every time!

The happiness of art and genius

I've taken this art piece from Erin Lobb's blog while she's at Oberlin. To ease academic stress, she pours herself into a hobby of creation. I'm in awe of her talents and I've had this artwork on my desktop for a while now. I've wanted to post it, but I kept getting sidetracked. I am adding this piece of Erin's soul on my happiness blog and display it proudly, like I do another one that hangs in my guest bedrooms (the one of a thinking artist drawn as the words that make him who he is at that moment).

So, here's to the earlobe herself and for the joy she brings all who know her.

Andrew Gott is Here and he says HELLO.

The storms are done and Andrew Gott and his father, Tim, braved their way to the Northeast for college visits. They arrived last night at 8 o'clock, we ate dinner and then it was time for bed. A piece of Kentucky, both Brown and Western University, were represented at the table.

Andrew's a great human being. I could write more, but I'll let it stay simple. Before I drove home with all my stuff, he and I went to see the Chiefs play the Riverbats and discussed the world through its religions, our philosophies and where life will take us next. Both of us are the types of chaps that want to find meaning out of everything. Our ADD is never content with remaining calm.

Andrew brought some of his Astro-physics work with him and I can truly say I am happy I did not major in that field. Nope, my brain is not that of a scientist or mathematician. I thought the theory I've been reading lately was bad -- imagine trying to diagnose fractions of statistical data on universe star theory and light -- yes, people are paid to do that.

It was great seeing Andrew and his father again, and witnessing Baby, the dog, wanting to be loved by them. I remember looking at colleges myself and valued the opportunity to see new places. In some ways, I'm jealous of the doorway opening up for him, but know it is a beautiful time -- cave hopping that is.

Hmm

Getting what you want is not always what the goal in life should be, but can you blame me for finally getting what I want? I leave for NY today, in about 4 hours.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

My original departure date was January 26, so you can imagine how much I was not expecting this.
I'm happy for another reason, but I don't want to bring it up just yet. I seem to be alone in this, but surprises make me happy, so I guess that's what I'm trying to set you up for.

Stay happy!
Princess and West Happia

Sean and I found this online.

My nephew wanted me to post this for everyone in the world so they can become happy. He's not two yet, but he did enjoy this video when we surfed the net over the weekend. He has his uncle's sense of humor I guess. He laughed, and so did I. I hope you will, too. It's beyond stupid and that's why we loved it.

Happiness comes from Coincidence

Ted Grace was a professor at Syracuse University in Reading and Language Arts before I arrived. Tonight, he was honored at Corcoran High School where a reading grove was celebrated in his honor. His wife, Jacquelyn, and several other story tellers animated his memory through tales and performance to pay respect for this amazing man who brought literacy to the community and a community to literacy. The weather was harsh, but travel was worth the celebration.

While talking to Ted Grace's wife, I told her a little bit about my work in Louisville and began talking about a man's poetry I used to teach. I was animated about Omanii Abdullah's collection, I Wanna Be The Kind of Father My Mother Was and told her about the success I had teaching it to students of yesteryear. I'm unsure why this entered the conversation, but Jacquelyn said, "You're not going to believe this, but Omanii is my brother-in-law and he's here tonight." The next thing I knew I was shaking his hand.



There is a complicated coincidence in how life presents itself and I am honored that tonight I attended this truly amazing event, but more importantly, I witnessed words I truly believe in. The fact that I was introduced to Omanii Abdullah, himself, was icing on the already delicious cake being served.

I am blessed.

Free to Be You and Me

For years, I taught this tiny script to promote student writing for ten minute plays. My sisters and I grew up singing from this Marlo Thomas Album and I can't help but recognize the liberal versus of this production is at the heart of my philosophy as a teacher.

You are free to be you, and I am free to be me.

How can we want anything else from our lives? Freedom is happiness.

Son of a Butch

It's my father's birthday and soon we'll be going to brunch at Cracker Barrel. I can't wait for this family time where I can eat a stack of pancakes with people I love. I love my father, immensely. I cherish the quiet times of fishing, the stress of always having to mow the lawn as a kid, and the lessons on being neurotic with snow removal. From him I learned hard work, trusting the job that feeds the family and that loyalty to friends trumps everything.

I sometimes try to rewind time to place myself in my father's role in the seventies and eighties, trying to see three kids graduate and get the "hell out of" his house. I think about those days as simple and carefree -- not as hectic and stressful as they seem to be now. But then I think that life was just as stressful back then, but my parents did a good job sheltering us from that. The fact that I can say I lived a joyous, simple childhood is evidence of the dedication taken by committed parents.

I think about the days my dad lit cow dung on fire underneath the streetlights of Sherburne, New York, or the times he fished for game trout illegally at a conservation site and I smile. All of us have youth, once, and then all of us have responsibility. I'm very happy to have been taught responsibility by good ol' Butch, and for this I am lucky.

Happy Birthday, Dad!

Virtual Happiness

Okay, okay, can you blame me? I was supposed to leave for New York a month ago. Ever since that date passed, I keep thinking I'll be leaving in a couple weeks, so I don't need to make plans for what to do with my time. Thus began my YouTube craze. But I don't even care! Even when I still have things to do in Manhattan, I will be YouTubing.

That ends our explanation hour. Now onto the happy times:

Why I'm happy:

1. I HAVE TICKETS TO NEW YORK!! Plane tickets mean that I am FINALLY LEAVING!!! I leave Monday, and, if everything goes accordion to plan, I will not be back 'til mid-May

2. I posted my most successful video yet. It's the #19 Most Viewed activism video for today, and one of the highest-rated and most discussed activism videos for today!! I've never gotten so many comments and ratings! I've also gotten some new subscribers, so this is a pretty good day!

2b. THERE ARE MORE THAN 2000 VIEWS

3. (or 1b) Of course I'm happy that my video is getting seen and whatnot, but I'm especially happy because the video is actually about something important. It's about this Earth Day project that a girl started. Her goal is to have people pick up 1000 pounds of trash worldwide on Earth Day. That's what my video's about- I'm promoting the project, and I think it's awesome. Earth Day is still pretty far away, but why not start now?

Here's a link in case the video doesn't work





TWO THOUSAND!!!

Stay happy, all!
-Sir Happy the First

Another Happy Video

From last year's talent night at the J. Graham Brown School, it's Clayton and Emily and their fantastic pogo stick bonanza. Brown School.

boing Boing boing b o i n g B O I N G boing.

happiness is being politically incorrect, I believe

Marz Meyer sent me this video yesterday because, he said, it made him think of me. Instead of interpreting what this is supposed to mean, I've decided to post the video here because it's the thought that counts. I'm unsure of why this video connected Marz to his ol' English teacher, but it did make me happy. Sing along, kids.

Sunshine. Thank God for Sunshine

The sky was blue today. The sun was bright. The temperatures went slightly above freezing. I went for a long walk with the dog and loved that the world was lit and not gray. Sunshine can make a world of difference, especially when such occasions are so rare.

The Dinka Origins of Rap Music - Happiness from Cows

Dominic Duddy Mathiang sent me this YouTube video after he saw how pathetic my Saturday clay cow sculptures were. He wanted me to understand the importance of cattle to his people and to hear a traditional bull song that is sung in honor of a boy's bull -- a ritual of pride and prestige among the Dinka.

I went to the video and a smile came to my face. In 2008, a Sudanese man in America, a.k.a. a "Lost Boy," can locate a 'bull song' on YouTube and send it to an American who is clueless of this tradition. This is bizarre, but beautiful.

I admit, too, however, that it is also sad in light of the news placed before New York Time's audiences today by Nicholas D. Kristoff, "There will be more blood" -- a harsh prediction of future genocide in the Sudan and more tragic war over oil. Saving Darfur is nothing, he says, compared to what is coming.

Yet, for this posting, I am grateful to the fact that Dominic found this video for my American ignorance. How can I not be happy from such bovine utopia?

Diversity is 2008

I attended the Diversity Institute held yesterday at Syracuse University between Nottingham and Fayetteville Manlius High Schools. Asked to attend as a volunteer, observer and witness to the event, I sat with over 100 youth who were brought together to discuss the meaning of diversity in 2008. Such a setting made me feel alive for many reasons.

First, it was inspirational to hear young people discuss racism, classism and sexism as they experience it in today's schools. The most moving part of the day arrived in the afternoon when these teenagers craved more time and a forum for continued conversation. Recognizing that zip codes, addresses and school populations separate the validity of such conversations, the teenagers who were present at the institute made revelations about their place in the modern world. They wanted more time and more dialogue!!!

The day reinforced the magical power of what occurred everyday at the Brown School in Louisville, Kentucky, where diverse populations come together, daily, to make sense of American culture. It reenforced that schools designed for such conversations are not the public school norm.

Second, Dr. Micere Mugo of Kenya addressed why poetry, script and criticism is a necessity for educators and students in the modern world. Her voice professed the importance of artistic expression to promote a global understanding of individuality and voice. Her words were inspirational and I'm a better person for hearing them.

Finally, I met Andrea Barnewell of Interfaith Works who participates with one of the country's oldest, community wide dialogue programs to end racism alive in the nation. She sat at my table and did a marvelous job helping urban and suburban youth navigate the socially constructed spaces of their experience.

I left the day happy. I had a million other things to do with my snowy Friday, but the conversation that occurred at this place in time trumped any academic work I had on my plate. Here was a generation of juniors and senior questioning where they stood on such matters, while making sense of the progress America has made. The event, that I'm sure is one of many across the country, solidified a place for me in Syracuse.