Experience plus reflection equals knowledge

I pulled this 1938, post-depression, pre-WWII text off my shelf today to remember what I feel is a way to live life. Live it. Experience It. Reflect on it. Become knowledgeable. I will never meet John Dewey but I love that he has given me a base for my educational life. So, Thanks.

Last Day for Summer Course #1

A simple post. A slide from a zillion slides from two weeks of reading and nightly classes in Arts Based Educational Research Methodology -- which ends today. I'm not happy it is ending because I really like this class, but I am happy to have a week between my classes to recoup. Doing fifteen weeks in two weeks is exhausting, but I'm happy I did this.

A Plea that Made Alice and I very thankful for our happiness

My name is Billy Evans. I AM A very sick little boy.

My mother is typing this for me, because I can't. She Is crying. The reason she is so sad is because I'm so Sick. I was Born without A body. It doesn't hurt, Except when I try to breathe.

The doctors gave me an artificial body. It is A burlap Bag filled with leaves. The doctors said that was the Best they could do ON account of us having No money OR Insurance.

I would like to have A body transplant, but we need More money. Mommy doesn't work because she said nobody Hires crying people. I said, " Don't cry, Mommy and " and She hugged my burlap bag. Mommy always gives me hugs, Even though she's allergic to burlap and it makes her Sneeze and chafes her real bad.

I hope you will help me. You can help me if you Forward this email to everyone you know. Forward it to People you don't know, too. Dr. Johansen said that for Every person you forward this email to, Bill Gates Will team up with AOL and send A nickel to NASA. With That funding, NASA will collect prayers from school Children all over America and have the astronauts take Them up into space so that the angels can hear them Better.

Then they will come back to earth and go to the Pope, And he will take up A collection IN church and send All the money to the doctors. The doctors could help Me get better then. Maybe one day I will be able to Play baseball. Right now I can only be third base.

Every time you forward this letter, the astronauts can Take more prayers to the angels and my dream will be Closer to coming true. Please help me. Mommy is so Sad and and I want A body. I don't want my leaves to rot Before I turn 10

If you don't forward this email, that's okay. Mommy Says you're A mean and heartless bastard who doesn't Care about A poor little boy with only A head. She Says that if you don't stew IN the raw pit of your own Guilt-ridden stomach, she hopes you die A long slow, Horrible death and then burn forever IN hell.

What kind of cruel person are you that you can't take Five freakin' minutes to forward this to all your Friends so that they can feel guilt and shame about Ignoring A poor, bodiless nine-year-old boy? Please Help me.

I try to be happy, but it's hard. I wish I had A Kitty. I wish I could hold A kitty. I wish I could Hold A kitty that wouldn't chew ON me and try to bury Its turds IN the leaves of my burlap body. I wish that Very much.

Thank You,

Billy " Smiles " Evans

A Bizarre Post of Odd Happiness

Running yesterday, I recognized once again, I sweat an abnormal amount. I knew  I would come home, take a photo of my sweaty self and write about how my sweat is a symbol for being alive, and my perspiration is a key to the difficulty of my journey. I made it six miles, after all, and the alternative would be that I never hit the roads. 

Upon investigating the photo, I noticed, too, there was blood on my shirt. It happened again!

Scarlet stains occur whenever I wear this particular t-shirt, like it first happened during one of the Mini-Marathons; I finished the race and noticed I had two stains upon my chest. It was then other runners taught me the importance of wearing bandaids during long runs (which I've never done because it seems plain odd). 

Chafing occurs and I'm not ashamed of my odd-liquid self, nor the fact that, at times, I have bleeding nipples. In my quest to find more smiles in life, I recognize that mortal truth is meant for further laughs. The human body is drastically whacky and we're conditioned, at a young age, to hide all the vulgar parts of it. Give me Grannie Annie and dinner of baked beans any day and let the frogs sing. Shaming our biological eccentricities is denying our truth. This photo is my reality.

ABER DABBER DOO

I was immersed all day yesterday in Arts-Based Educational Research methodology (ABER). In a nutshell, the way ABER works is that it celebrates and includes the arts: poetry, story, drawing, music, theater, etc. as a part of the research process and doesn't rely on the traditional academic modes of thinking, alone. There is research, true, but the boundaries are challenged (which is what I like). I scanned a lot of pieces from my journals, but then decided that the piece that Erin Lobb did in her senior year as a poetic piece of art, sums up why I like the combination of visual and words. How else do we divide what is a semiotic and what isn't? The idea of it all makes me happy (and I'm pretty drained at this point from reading and thinking about it all).

Oneida Lake

Left the house yesterday morning at 7 a.m., did coffee at a diner and was on the lake with Karl, Nathan & Butch by 8:30. We fished for around three hours and all I got was a Sheepshead Carp, and two perch. I think Karl's the only one who got a fish worth mentioning, and if my memory serves me correctly, Nathan is now dating it. In all honesty, it doesn't matter if I catch fish, I just like coasting on the water. It was cold today, but it warmed up, and we managed to miss all the other boats with the same idea we had of catching walleye. Every time I'm on the water I think, "now how can I make this lifestyle more permanent?" Someday. Someday.

I was There

You and I must make a pact, we must bring salvation back
Where there is love, I'll be there

I'll reach out my hand to you, I'll have faith in all you do
Just call my name and I'll be there

I'll be there to comfort you,
Build my world of dreams around you, I'm so glad that I found you
I'll be there with a love that's strong
I'll be your strength, I'll keep holding on

Let me fill your heart with joy and laughter
Togetherness, well that's all I'm after
Whenever you need me, I'll be there
I'll be there to protect you, with an unselfish love that respects you
Just call my name and I'll be there

If you should ever find someone new, I know he'd better be good to you
'Cause if he doesn't, I'll be there
Don't you know, baby, yeah yeah
I'll be there, I'll be there, just call my name, I'll be there

(Just look over your shoulders, honey - oo)

I'll be there, I'll be there, whenever you need me, I'll be there
Don't you know, baby, yeah yeah

I'll be there, I'll be there, just call my name, I'll be there...

It's 08, A'ight

The class of 2008 gets their diploma today after 13 years of public school education. This is a post of happiness in honor of all they accomplished. They now enter the world in hope of all the possibilities that are there. This is for them. I wish them all the best--even if I can't be there in body, I am with them in spirit.

Right Now

What are you doing right now? Thinking about? Wondering about? Worrying about? Whatever it is, it needs to bring you a sense of joy. Why? Because this moment matters at this moment, and perhaps the goal for all of us is to learn to embrace what we have at the very millisecond that we have it. It is "Carpe Diem." I had such a moment today looking down on the city of Syracuse with a rainstorm coming in. The wind was blowing, the smell was totally Central, New York and I was thankful to own my place in time. I wish I had the secret to doing this more than I do. I find happiness in the idea that I don't.

Miles and Miles of a Movement

Yesterday, I listened to a lot of Miles Davis and grew more fascinated with how musicians manipulate the "truth" of music into creating a new "truth" in music. Wynton Marsalis said that jazz is how the individual works with the community. It is total democracy. I found this Michael Jackson tribute by Miles Davis on YouTube, of course. It makes me happy to post it.

Can you tell I'm in an Art Theory class?

I heard the artists in my class discuss a man named Ken Burns. I looked him up. I saw his work. I learned he no longer creates with his hands, but finds work that already is created and places them in context of one another for new meaning. This piece is called "By Design." I have my interpretation, and from it, I could put the graduate on receipts from Walmart or Valvoline oil changes. This graduate can be in an office that overlooks the laboring construction workers paving roads below. This graduate can send his secretary to a McDonald's drive through, or have his wife's hair braided in Barbados. This graduate sits front row at NCAA basketball games and leaves before employees clean it up. Yes, I'm intrigued by what this piece of art says. Theoretically, it is making sense.

Jazz

After discussing arts-based theory tonight, I mentioned that I seldom see educators make jazz out of their profession, but instead see them marching to the tune of the same ol' drummers and/or following them same text-sets of many generations before. I think it is sad that some teachers don't know their content and field enough to syncopate knowledge as they meet new students and colleagues. Shaking things up and mixing the notes has always made for the best music. This idea made me think better of Jazz as a genre, and like spoken word poetry, one has to know the basics of language and rhyme to create new linguistic codes for expression. Today I'm happy about the possibility of making new music as a student and teacher. Shouldn't that be what it's all about anyway?

self portraits

I'm a fan of stopping every once in a while and thinking about a good self portrait. I have been thinking about this one since I began at SU, and now that I'm taking creative art theory (starting tonight) I opted to jump the gun and create an image to get my brain thinking. What I've read thus far for the class is very complicated language explaining how artistic expression is not celebrated at the University over research paradigms, but it, like the research paradigm, uses the esoteric language of academics to explain itself. It is fighting elitism by being elite. Phooie. If it can't be explained to a sixth grader, it isn't worth wasting the vocabulary. Scholars will never make sense to me. I struggle to find comfort in the box they allow for my thinking. I messed up the arms, but then realized one can interpret it as "my arms are trapped inside". That will suffice. One of these days, I will create a performance art piece of this image and I will post that, too. Consider this a rough draft.

For the Class of 2008

For several years, this is the time of year where I write my final goodbyes to a senior class: we return from Florida, we do Senior Awards, Paperwork is filed, and then there's graduation. To say that I'm not a part of that this year is surreal. I left St. Augustine last night and said goodbye, once again, to the class of 2008. As Margee and Suzannah coined, "It's '08, A'ight" and that has been the motto ever since.

Being 48 hours with the kids on the beach was rejuvenating and seeing them again sparks so much hope for the future. There is only one Brown School and only one place I've ever found where a diverse group of kids get along as family. Yesterday, while playing Scrabble, several kids swam, one calculated math problems, another played with his stuffed animal fish, and many others entertained Molly, Carrie's little girl. What's amazing is all the kids come from unique backgrounds, including Logan, who wore a Celtic skirt all weekend and a Speedo underneath....oh, those Irish, punk, Greg Louganis roots! At this time, next week, they will all be graduates and move on to their lives. I'm sure they're ready. Meanwhile, Alice and the others will have to prepared to do it all again. As I noted to Alice, "Man, we keep getting older and all these kids remain the same age." Even so, Brown kids are Brown kids and being with them is always amazing. So, what makes me happy? The Class of '08. My best to them.

suRpriSes

I finally was able to post a picture.  It is overcast.  We're about to go to dinner.  Yesterday's weather was wonderful and running on the beach is nirvana.  I loved that I pulled off the surprise and it is great to see everyone again.  Overstimulating in some ways, but also great.  More to come.  Happiness is a surprise.  

La Fiesta, La Life, La Ocean, La Ritual, La Relaxation

At the moment, I am unable to upload a picture of my whereabouts (I believe there's a firewall in the way).  Yet, I am at the ocean.  I am calling myself a 2008 surprise for Alice, Charlie, and the seniors of Brown.  I'm at my hotel and I slept like a baby.  They have the most comfortable beds in the world, and the curtains create complete darkness at night.

Yesterday, I ran the beach. I walked the beach.  I perused the local area and I drove to look at lifestyles of the rich and ridiculous.  St. Augustine, Florida, remains one of my homes and I tabulated that I've done this trip for ten straight years.  This year, though, I do the trip on my own (but with the added surprise element that I won't be alone.

It's overcast this morning, but yesterday was all sun -- like tomorrow.  It will hit 94 degrees today. I will drink more coffee and hit the sand.  Life is not bland along the shores.  

Statistically, I haven't a clue!

I drove my family nuts.  I had nightmares.  I lost sleep and gave up weekends to study.  I did problems online.  I created my own study sheets.  I worked with study groups and went to tutors.  And I took every exam as a neurotic mess.  The first exam I got an A.  Have no clue how.  Second exam, I got a B-.  Then there was the final.  I was shooting for a C.  Somehow, I got an A- for the class, so I must have done something right.  Don't ask me how. She must of thrown out one of the questions or she gave me a lot of bonus points for always bothering her with my need for further explanations and/or always cracking jokes in class.  Humor was my coping mechanism.  Let's hope that the day for numbers is over.  I will befriend mathematicians and statisticians to help me cover the research my narrative mind doesn't wish to explore.  Let our mixed methods arrive from mixed minds, and not this mind when it gets mixed up with formulas, rules, and # crunching to claim truth.  Ah, I regress.  But, it is over for now.  I am happy for this.

Now, I don't chug a lot of things as readily as I do Gatorade after a run.  A bowl of fresh fruit (thanks, Cynde) and a bottle of Gatorade makes a six mile run seem much more refreshing.  When I have it in stock, I love being rejuvenated.  Sweat.  Breathe.  Become reenergized.

ah, pancakes

My uncle Milford has a Sunday ritual of making pancakes from a non-traditional, healthy mix of flower, oatmeal and corn meal.  When visiting him, pancake Sunday is always the best.  This previous Sunday, I used his recipe for Mother's day, and although they weren't exactly like his, they were good.  I'm thinking of them two days later as I sip coffee and think about the joys of breakfast.  Coupled with New York State maple syrup, there isn't a heartier more satisfying breakfast in the world.  Okay, that's an overstatement.  I actually enjoy all breakfasts, but this one happens to be one of my favorites.  

Mom's Day on Monday

The logical post yesterday would have been Mother's Day, but whereas I post the night before the day actually occurs, it occurred to me today, (Sunday), to post Momma Mia on Monday.  So, Happy Mother's Day Moms-all-around-the-world.  If it wasn't for your ovaries, none of us would be here.  Here's to you.

Prom, It's oh-eight, a'ight

This is the first year, in a very long time, I won't be attending high school prom.  Instead, this year, I went out for Mexican with my younger sister and her husband.  Meanwhile, last night, the J. Graham Brown School had its annual promenade at the Water Tower and my tuxedo got to hang in the closet, again not dry cleaned, and the ritual of buying a nice tuxedo tie and pair of shiny shoes (only to return them the day after prom---keeping the receipts) is no longer.  

I often complained that the prom was what I hated the most about teaching, but in truth it was par for the educational course and always an excellent evening of seeing the students dressed in their best.  Of course, Alice and I were always exhausted at this point in the year and we attended the dance as chaperones, sponsors and dedicated teachers.  Pictured above are the Brown School beauties:  Alice, Carrie and Lauri, with a pimp-wanna-be.

I hope last night's prom was a true success and that, in the tradition of Brown School diversity, it was as it always is -- unpredictable.  Here's to the class of 2008's happiness and celebration of their year.

shake me vanilla

The season for ice cream cravings is upon us and suddenly I find myself thinking of vanilla during all hours of the day.  Being semi-lactose intolerant, I know such thoughts are dangerous, but even so, as May heads towards June heads towards July, I've already scoped out all the scoop stands in the area to appease my vanilla cravings.  For me, it is not chocolate, nor strawberry, but vanilla milkshakes that put a smile on my face and a sense of satiation in my belly.  Great.  I had to write about this and now I definitely have a craving.

Everything is Illuminated

I spent yesterday reading Jonathan Safran Foer's EVERYTHING IS ILLUMINATED.  I was given this book as a gift upon leaving Kentucky, but only found yesterday to open it up.  Besides a run, a walk, and a small cookout of Hoffman hotdogs for my dog and me, I sat on my couch and read. Reading this, however, was more an adventure in excellent writing, imagination, and history according to my generation who has been somewhat detached from World Wars, amazing atrocities and the way the past intertwines with the present.  I guess I can admit that I was illuminated, if only for a brief period of time.  I'm not sure, quite yet, what I will take from this experience, but imagine it will have much to do with the dog, Sammy Davis Junior, Jr. and his presence to the whole narrative. Actually, everything designed for the car ride of ancestry, especially a blind grandfather at the wheel, will resonate on my impulse to make sense of one lifetime.  This entry is for Jonathan Safran Foer who lived(s) by the pen and tries to find meaning through story like so many of us do.

Oprah

My year reflection on what makes the world a good, happy place could not be complete without Oprah Winfrey herself.  Somehow, yesterday, I came home and saw she was still on the air -- always optimistic, always spiritual, always happy and always connecting.  Man, our romance has been twenty years in the making and she doesn't even know I exist.  I started to think what the world would be without her and I can't imagine it.  It is so standard that when you need a soul-fix, she'll be on and addressing a topic that makes you understand life's hardships more...that is, when she's not featuring bras and giving away cars.  I'm also amazed by her physical transformation over the years.  I guess money does make a difference, no?  What are the chances I'll be left in her will?

This one for mom: hummingbird and hawk

I saw an advertisement for this summer's "So You Think You Can Dance" and was reminded by the dancer, Hawk, and his performance of a hummingbird feeding on a flower. It was a routine that made an impact because it was unique and with originality. I post it for my mom, and for all others who might find happiness from such performance.

time elapsed bloomage

I felt it was a safe enough to dig up plants, thin them out and transplant them. The truth is, I wanted to get dirty and took advantaged of a nice afternoon to play with earthworms and grubs. It made me think of the song Summertime by Gershwin (it was Gershwin, no?) and I found this slow motion blooming azalea online.

ah, leftovers

The best part about having a barbecue is the leftovers find their way into your fridge and you get meals for the week. Lucky for me, Bonnie's famous baked ziti is made to feed the Byzantium Empire, so I ended up with a large chunk (and trust me, it is better than Chef Boy R Dee). The result is I have dinner for a few days and was able to feed my sister and her family tonight. I know I won't have to think too hard about what to eat during the week because my refrigerator is stocked. Happiness is throwing a party and having enough leftover to place in tupperware later on. Yum.

derby party

I opened my house for the Kentucky Derby today..made mint juleps, grilled outside and collected bets. Every race ends with new history and this year's history will go down with sadness for Eight Belles. As already being reported, the gloom traveled fast. The sport of kings is at the expense of majestic creatures. I suppose man's relationship with such wild life is part of the Derby's intrigue. Beast and human. Nature and Training.

It was a happy day with friends and family, indeed, as the above photo shows. I found it on my desktop when everyone left. i was at the grill all day and didn't know what others were doing. Apparently, they were mean mugging and being super fly.

And another year goes by.

Kentucky Oaks

In Kentucky, yesterday, the Kentucky Oaks was raced. The Derby Parade is finished, Thunder Over Louisville exploded into a kick off, and the celebrities are arriving the Barnstable gala. If you've not experienced this, it is something you've missed. In many ways, Louisville exists for the events of this weekend. The rituals are irreplaceable and the memories are always beautiful. I think fondly of my time knowing the sounds of trumpets and I applaud another year of horse breeding, training, and laboring on a track. Here's to all the years and all the people who make such an event happen.

They're about to Burst

Running yesterday, I noticed many green trees are about to burst in Central New York, including the lilacs. There's a few days every spring when they are at their best and when you run by them, they fill your nostrils with the bourbon that makes swallowtails and bees drunk. That day is coming, and who can't be happy for that? I run with anticipation and enthusiasm for the explosion.

City View

On my wall hangs a gift from Faryl Edelen, the retired counselor from the Brown. It hangs central to my new home and I look at it from time to time contemplating that city, my time there, and how nothing is constant. Driving into work in the mornings, if I took the river roads, this is what I saw. The lights of a place that is very much alive. At times, I miss this view because it made many of my days in Kentucky very happy.

Jerry Abramson, the mayor, does a phenomenal job with his leadership and I witnessed change after change occur along the downtown landscape. Vision and creativity brought the city to life.

As Derby approaches (this weekend), I give a shout out to the town named after King Louis.