Gotta love October days

                                               CLINGING TO TODAY

Mid-October mid-day sun

Cajoles me to squint against her radiance,

A breeze I can barely feel

Peels the golden brown leaves

From their grasping branches.

Ceremoniously they process

To their graduation,

Descending in clearly defined groups--

Stripping the splendid forest array

Softly into grey.

I crunch a firm crimson treat

With tongue and teeth--

It bursts with tart juice swimming

Along my grateful taste buds.

The flavor sings me a memory of decades

Dwelling in days like this one to savor

Crunching raked piles of glee

Under stomping giddy feet.

Inside, a fleece jacket waits its turn

To wrap me in comfort,

Assured I won’t neglect it much longer

As days get shorter.

But this day my naked arms accept

A few more bronze freckles

Destined to last till I wither

Unlike the crispy brown specks

On route to decay.

Yesterday’s rain softened the mud;

Compressing the scribbled-crayon carpet,

Tickling my nostrils with a lasting perfume

I suction it deep into lungs and retain it.

Black locust saplings, bedecked in oval emeralds

Defy the annual aging of elderly neighbors.

A dozen Phoenix trees, as big as me

Sprung from the seeded ashes

Of parents toppled by fierce winds

This time last year;

The orphans mock the murderers

Who toppled in terror

Ancestors quaking their burial grounds

With great drama before they succumbed to slumber.

Upon this fertile earth

Which gave them birth

The children rose swiftly,

Like an army, strong and plentiful

Climbing independently

Towards cerulean skies.

As I sit, crickets belt out solos;

Paired cicadas do duets,

Their tune the dirge of siblings laid to rest;

Redheaded woodpeckers add percussion

Hammering beaks for smaller relatives

Of the noisy procrastinators avoiding naps.

I toss the core of my Winesap sucked dry

Contributing to the sweet stench of decay

Hoping the soil will be as satisfied

With my donation

As I linger

Still squinting

Ignoring chores which will still be

Wanting to be done

After I drink in what remains

Of this impeccable day.

SuzyOzone

10/24/12

Losing It part 3

For those of my readers who have seen my recent posts on Facebook, you already know this...or some if it. For others who don't have valuable time to waste on social networks--techno-gossip--hope you get a laugh.
As a follow-up to a recent post here, I did locate the missing new phone in my husband's car--it had slid down the front passenger seat on the side by the door. Finding it only brought a pale sense of relief. Five days later, the new phone parachuted from the pocket of my pants into a flushing toilet. I never saw it go in, but heard it, and knew from the ache in my stomach that I wasn't going to find it under the cabinet in the powder room, where I'd hoped beyond reason that it would appear.
Stop laughing! It's not that funny. Nor is it uncommon. The comments on my FB post revealed many stories of cellphone mishaps.
I had just transferred a large collection of phone numbers off the old cell, and didn't get rid of it. A few hours later, I heard a faint buzzing sound from the potty where it took a nosedive. A brief session with a plunger retrieved it, and withing a few days of letting it dry out in a jar of rice, it still has capacity to function, at least as a camera or storage device for MP3 files. The new one--if it survives past the two year expiration date for the insurance policy--will suffice for now.

Employments Symposium

I headed to Philadelphia today with 7 of my kids to take part in an event sponsored by Networks for Training & Development. Last year, I took a course with them to become a Communication Mentor, hoping to work with individuals who are non-verbal. Learning about Assistive Technologies has opened  my mind to a paradigm shift; being able to facilitate communication for people with physical and intellectual challenges has had some amazing results.
While attending classes at Arcadia University, I met some amazing people. Jill Gromen was one of the organizers for today's event, and she & I had some conversations about my son's experiences with a mentor who led him to find work doing photography and video production & editing. Chris made his debut as a speaker, taking part on a panel with three other young people overcoming obstacles like he has. He was eloquent as he shared his relationship with his  hero, and told the story of how meeting Bill led to his pursuit of an entrepreneur venture. His presentation was met with overwhelming approval, as was his display of his photography, and his short video clip from his latest soccer film.
The O'Clan Contingent of the Rebel Heart Irish Dancers (Miss Stephanie, Andrew, Robert, Maria, John Paul, Teresa, and I) performed during the lunch break. Miss Stephanie talked about the founding, growth, and development of the troupe, and our mission in education, entertainment, community involvement, and outreach.
She explained how her siblings take part in almost all of shows, and help with teaching, choreography, costume design & construction, running shows, and taking care of all aspects of business.
It was difficult to leave the Crowne Plaza, because so many of the participants were overwhelmed with the contributions we made to the event.
Miss Stephanie got an email from the organizers of this year's TASH conference in November. They said they were reviewing  our proposal to perform and present our story at this year's event in California. They are trying to see if they can fit us into the schedule (and hopefully fund our travel and lodging expenses). I am keeping my fingers crossed and my outlook hopeful.
I'll update when I hear more.
And speaking of updates, my poem "Silent Voice" was rejected for this year's version of Wild Onions Magazine. I'll get over it. It was meant for Alina--not everyone affiliated with Penn State College of Medicine Department of Humanities, after all. And she & her mom loved it. In the end, that's all that matters.

Crowning Moments

Allow me to gush about the amazing experience of being a part of the Rebel Heart Irish Dance family. The 100+ member troupe has officially adopted me as "Mum" of all. It's no surprise that non-Oscilowski dancers and their families touch my heart. I can't tell you how many times other people's children have brought tears to my eyes. Our show this week at Cumberland Crossings in Carlisle was a great example.
Anan, one of the youngest dancers, tends to steal any show that he and his 3 year old sister Alana perform with us. They exceed the quota of cuteness allowed in any one place.
Anan performed a 2-hand ceili with my son Andrew. Andrew is 19 and stands about 6 feet tall, and Anan who just turned 5, is short for his age. As they prepared to dance, and Miss Stephanie was telling the audience about what they were doing, Anan looked up at Andrew with such admiration, you'd think he was holding hands with God. The beaming smile on his face as he looked at his towering partner was one I will cherish.
I doubt that many residents of Cumberland Crossing noticed how well Andrew performed the step, as they were too charmed by the little guy hanging on for dear life at the hands of his mentor.
Andrew's mission has been to recruit the young boys who get dragged to the studio for their sisters' lessons. He has privately tutored many of them, and attends the lower level classes to give instruction and encouragement to the males wanting to emulate him and his brothers John Paul and Robert. Although he is humble about his dancing feats, Andrew has won the hearts of many, including the boys who look forward to their time in class and at shows.
What a gift!