September 2nd, 2008 by Karen, under Uncategorized. No Comments
New to my I Saw That page: DR. HORRIBLE’S SING-ALONG BLOG
(another for)OSI: Spectacle
September 1st, 2008 by Karen, under Poems. 9 Comments
TRANSVESTITE AT SOUTH SHORE SHOPPING CENTER, ALAMEDA
He sat alone on the cafe patio. Shoppers watched at a liberal radius all around him–a coliseum of stares. He met no gaze, deliberately. Instead, he meditated on the gray bay beyond the parking lot.
In his aged face, I saw dead desperation–a choked cry. He was frozen in his posture, except for his right hand, which trembled when he lifted his mug to his lips.
He wore war paint–this deep rouge rubbed into five o’clock shadows, this misapplied Egyptian eyeliner… I thought of kamikaze airmen.
I thought of the burning monk. These were his ceremonial garments: red heels over flourescent pink tights, baby blue poodle skirt, auburn wig with bed-head, pearls.
I looked away. It is too much to watch someone die like this. Sitting so still. Burning alive.
All that would be left is his heart.
–Karen Crone, 2008 for OSI: Spectacle
Image: the heart of Thích Quảng Đức
TOP: One Way
August 27th, 2008 by Karen, under Free Verse, Motherhood, Poems. 12 Comments
My son sits on the porch step
arms crossed, determined.
He’s not going, he says.
Even so, I put his lunch box
in his backpack
in the back seat
in the car.
Because he’s going–
like it or not.
He can ride in the back seat
or on the porch step
while we’re orbiting the sun.
–Karen Crone, 2008 for Totally Optional Prompts: One Way
and especially for Spencer, who will always be
my baby no matter how many times
he circles the sun.
My Journey’s Begun
August 26th, 2008 by Karen, under Haiku, Nigeria, Nursing, Poems. 12 Comments
this resolution:
conviction manifested,
held firm in my hands
The prompt this week from One Single Impression was “resolve.” It seemed a perfect opportunity to announce my upcoming journey to Umuaguo, Nigeria to serve the people of this rural community at the Ohaji Medical Center.
Many of us here in the U.S. are yearning to make a difference, and I feel blessed to have this opportunity to serve and befriend the people of Umuaguo and surrounding areas.
The above photo is of a young man named God’s Power, taken in 2006 by my team leader, Teri Dreher, when she first met him. At that time he was very ill with malaria, a curable illness that kills more than a million African children each year. Today, I’m told he is a robust, funny little boy. If you have time to watch the video below (personal video logs from the 2008 team, edited for time), you’ll see him demonstrate his “big man” strut.
As I take this journey, I will be journaling, and I will post these thoughts here on this site for my friends to follow. I will be honored to take you along with me in this way, and will be so grateful for your encouragement and prayers. Your prayers, especially, will be my greatest asset.
Of course, this mission needs funding. If you are motivated to give financially, I will be posting information on how to go about this.
The following video shows many members of the 2008 team while on site last year.
Look Out, Here They Come!
August 25th, 2008 by Karen, under Everyday dishes, Motherhood. 2 Comments
The Crone kids are taking over their school. Can’t believe summer vacation’s done!
Spence started Kindergarten, and Cessy is in Sister’s class this year and will prepare for her First Holy Communion.
Mik had been terrified (as she is every year) that her new teacher might be the most frightful monster to ever walk the halls. This suspicion seemed to be confirmed this morning when she encountered the plaque on Mrs. S’s desk that read: I TORTURE CHILDREN.
Don’t ask me how that one has slipped by the principal, but Oh! Did I laugh!
When I picked them up from their noon dismissal, Mik was smiling in her impish way.
“So? How was it? Did she torture you?”
“No,” Mik didn’t roll her eyes at me, but I think she considered it. ”She just likes to joke.”
Mrs. S. also likes art class, so this makes her numero uno in Mik’s book. After organizing their desks, they spent the remainder of the day making origami whales.
I got to thinking about art class, and my children, and how much I expect from them, how much I want for them, and all the things I wish I could promise… This poem by James Galvin came to mind (I’m running a little off track, granted. But,hey–it’s my blog):
Art Class
Let us begin with a simple line,
Drawn as a child would draw it,
To indicate the horizon,
More real than the real horizon,
Which is less than line,
Which is visible abstraction, a ratio.
The line ravishes the page with implications
Of white earth, white sky!
The horizon moves as we move,
Making us feel central.
But the horizon is an empty shell—
Strange radius whose center is peripheral.
As the horizon draws us on, withdrawing,
The line draws us in,
Requiring further lines,
Engendering curves, verticals, diagonals,
Urging shades, shapes, figures…
What should we place, in all good faith,
On the horizon? A stone?
An empty chair? A submarine?
Take your time. Take it easy.
The horizon will not stop abstracting us.
PSST…
August 23rd, 2008 by Karen, under Everyday dishes. 1 Comment
(I whisper)
I have two secrets in common with the senders to Postsecret this past week. Wonder who will have the same sad or strange quirks as me when more come out tomorrow.
TOP: Edgar Allan Poe
August 20th, 2008 by Karen, under Cinq-Cinquain, Poems. 8 Comments
I use great caution while I write–
sit by a light against the night,
speak not his name, nor his works cite–
lest I compel him into flight
and then his torment be my plight.
Be it as foretold the Raven,
and his maiden still evades him
this long and deep into the Night,
I’m inclined, then, not to jade him,
lest I compel him into flight.
For in madness born of wanting,
the ache’s taunting becomes haunting
by this phantom pierced with slight
of love lost while longing’s mounting.
Such a torment is his plight!
Anguished poet in Death’s cage
will find a page to write his rage.
And groaning melodies of fright,
he’ll act it out upon this stage.
So I use caution while I write.
Stay by a light against the night!
For if his maiden still evades him,
he’ll want a page to write his rage.
Ache’s taunting turns to haunting,
calling, “Lenore!” Forevermore.
–Karen Crone, 2008 for
OSI: Homecoming
August 17th, 2008 by Karen, under Free Verse, Poems. 20 Comments
HOME
It’s when you are five and it’s bedtime and you ask
Daddy what if I get lost or stolen by a monster-man
and Dad pulls the blankets to your chin and says
know this: if you are ever lost I will search for you
and I will never stop if it takes my whole life
I won’t ever give up. And it is simple for you
to believe because he is so big and you are small
a piece of him he’d come for like Helen of Troy.
When OSI prompted its participants with “Homecoming,” I thought of this poem I wrote for The Virtual Teahouse’s “Where’s Home?” contest. I’d recommend checking out VTH for some soulful content and a thoughtful look at home.
The above image is DJ James, 1996.
I’m Now A Jets Fan
August 8th, 2008 by Karen, under Everyday dishes. 2 Comments
Or
Who Moved the Cheese?
Or
The Green Bay Quackers
I looked hard for a good pic of Brett without the green and gold (because my stomach’s been weak and those colors are now offensive), but, sadly, that was practically impossible. Has something to do with how the legendary quarterback gave those cheese-block-heads the lion’s share of his career.
My kids know they aren’t allowed to call people stupid. It isn’t nice. However, from now on, I will allow them to use the word aloud all they want when referring to the Quackers. Those STUPID Packers!, Spencer might say. And I will say back, STUPID, STUPID Packers!
And what’s to become of our Packer gear? Our green and gold sweatshirts? I would be embarassed to donate them to Salvation Army. It wouldn’t be given in the right spirit. You don’t donate your trash. So we’ll recycle instead, use the scraps to line Lucy’s kennel. I can feel good about that.
Go Brett! Go Jets!
And may the Green Bay Packers lose every game for the next 20 years.
Under the Weather
August 5th, 2008 by Karen, under Kitchen Sink. 1 Comment
Tummy hurts. Sore muscles. Bed.
