The Journal of Miss J

UST AB-LITERATURE BATCH ‘86

2012-01-16T22:46:00.002-05:00

Driving home tonight on this treacherous icy road, a host to many a careless crash, with chattering teeth at -28° C, I ponder on Zeny’s text for me to write. Write about what? The truth is that I haven’t written anything for a long time except for work-related and academic papers. So what’s there to write about? Hmmm… How about what the batch means to me? That sounds manageable. I can recite my thoughts right now in the midst of all these flashing lights and sirens.

The Batch means a lot to me. It was part of the best years of my life, spent with mentors whose words led me through unpaved roads, through unknown places with blank faces. The best years of my life spent with friends I’ve kept for life. Friends who continue to amaze me with their wisdom, talents, camaraderie, compassion… Friends who trusted me and made me part of so much energy for the Literary Society, the Sir Thomas More play, the Christmas carolling, the visit to the Sisters of Charity, and so much more. So much to give and so much beauty in every way I consider unparalleled with the new minds and souls I’ve encountered elsewhere. Nothing beats the character of this Batch. I salute you all for what you’ve done and continue to do. Note that I am with you wherever I may be. I thank you all for those best years that made me what I am now and took me far and wide. Wishing you all many more truly wonderful years!

Just kiddin' kindergartners

2011-10-14T23:56:00.004-04:00

At four years old:

Edison trips and scrapes his hand. The teacher consoles him and says, “It’s all right, Edison. We’ll just wash it and you’ll see that it’s all right.” “No!” cries Edison “It’s broken!” After some thought, the teacher says, “With this Band-Aid though, it’s not broken anymore. See!” And Edison smiles. Thanks to the maker of Band-Aid. Teachers are fixing “breakages”.

The children are allowed to share a mat on the floor and play during their free time. Adam shares a mat with Anton and plays with dinosaurs while Liza shares a mat with Nick and plays with farm animals. Adam, however, tends to “walk” his dinosaur from his mat to that of Liza (who has started complaining about it), so the teacher intervenes and says, “Adam, this is the mat of Liza and Nick and that is your mat with Anton. Where should you be playing?” “At home,” Adam says. Yeah, right.

At five years old:

Teacher: I’m a grandma, too.
Student: No, you’re not.
Teacher: Why do you think so?
Student: Because you don’t walk like this. (She stoops and pretends to walk slowly with a stick.)
Teacher: Well, I don’t have to be very old to be a grandma. Look at Mandy’s grandma, she’s younger than me.
Student: Why? How many are you?
Teacher: You mean, how old I am?
Student: Yeah. How many old are you?

The teacher brings her laptop to class for the first time. Brenda approaches her with her usual big smile and sweet voice, “I like your little computer. It’s a girl computer. My Dad’s computer is big. It’s a boy computer.” Yikes!

Wild and free at Carburn Natural Park

2011-10-03T22:58:00.006-04:00

2011-10-03T00:03:00.002-04:00

I hang on all right
Acrobats should be like me
Sticky and slimy.
Jamison/02/10/2011

2011-10-02T23:45:00.003-04:00

Aphids are nowhere
Why those darned kids put me here
I can’t comprehend.
Jamison/02/10/2011

2011-10-02T23:37:00.001-04:00

Fresh from its pupa
Color’s pale, elytra’s soft
Dots come in hours.
Jamison/02/10/2011

2011-10-02T23:20:00.001-04:00

Atop Tusk N’ Grill
Mother seagull cries and cries
Did she lose ‘em all?
Jamison/02/10/2011

Just when I’m about to give up…

2011-09-25T23:08:00.014-04:00

Ladybugs, ladybirds, or lady beetles. Whichever name you prefer, they’re the same bug that has fascinated me since I was little. This time, I see how they bring joy to Kindergarten students who pick them up with their tiny fingers or with a leaf and let them crawl all over them during outdoor time. Some giggle as they’re tickled by the bugs while others scream once they feel the sharp spines on the bugs’ legs. If they’re told to put the bugs in the garden, they do so but they hang by the garden tirelessly picking up the bugs and placing them on the flowers (as that’s what they see me do all the time). Instead of enjoying the playground equipment, some children simply stay by the garden as if playing “spot a bug and pick it up”. When a teacher hears “Eew! It peed on me,” it’s time to send someone to wash his/her hands. (This yellow/orange stinky goo is actually blood excreted by the bugs for feeling threatened.)

One day, I thought of using my 58mm close-up lens 500D and taking pictures of the ladybugs so that the children will have photos to enjoy during the long cold winter they will spend mostly indoors. As I take pictures during my break, however, the children shifted their interest to my camera. “Can I see, Miss Lina?” said all the tiny voices. “There’s nothing to see. Just put the ladybugs on the flowers, please,” I lied, of course. So they did, but I ended up with a lot of blurry shots because their hands were either on my shoulders or arms while trying to peek on the LCD screen.

It was time to give up.

During the weekend while preparing my little garden for spring bulbs, I spotted a ladybug on the ground. I picked it up and placed it on a cinquefoil and then ran into the house to get my 100 mm macro lens attached to an extension tube, and my tripod.

I thought that there might be time to set up as this bug wasn’t moving a lot. It was mid-afternoon so there was soft lighting and not a lot of wind. I thought it was perfect. When I got back to my “studio,” however, the bug was nowhere to be found. Oh, no! It was exploring the plant, so I just followed it with my lens. A fascinating sight behind a macro lens, however, was seeing the bug open its hard protective shell called elytra (or forewings), extend its black wings from underneath, and lift its elytra.

Uh-oh… My “model” was going to fly away and leave me. But for some reason, it did not. It simply lowered its elytra and withdrew its wings. Phew! I was able to take more shots this day but as my fingers were getting tired, I decided to use the self-timer. The noise, however, stressed the bug and it lifted its elytra several times to give me some final warnings. I thought the punishment on the bug was enough and I ended the session.

Today, while watering the plants, I noticed a lot of ladybugs on the lawn. It was like seeing tiny orange and red mushrooms that sprouted everywhere overnight. They were easy to spot as they settled at the tip of grass blades. I picked them gently with my big fingers. Whenever they fell on the ground, they quickly climbed back to the tip again (for my convenience, I thought). I picked five or more at a time and kept them in my closed fist while I ran to the backyard where there was no direct sunlight. Just like before, I shoved them on the few blooms in the garden and ran into the house for my macro lens and tripod. I thought that with so many bugs, I wouldn’t run out of models. I also set the objective of this session: to take a photo of a bug in flight or simply with open elytra. The big problem this time, however, was the strong wind which would surely blur the photos. I tried anyway and replaced my models several times after the others flew off. This session took longer than yesterday’s as the bugs stayed under the petals to look for their favourite food: aphids. Once they surfaced, however, they scurried from the tip of one petal to another.

Although I did not tighten the ballhead of my tripod in order to follow the moving bugs, I felt defeated by their speed and the weight of the lens, and slowed down by the manual focusing. Nevertheless, it was again a real pleasure to observe these bugs behind a macro lens. Once they reached the tip of a petal, they raised their forelegs as if in surprise or frustration, or to say “Help!” One bug peeked from under one petal as if it was a scared child lying face down on the glass floor of the Calgary Tower 627 feet above the ground.

The rest simply flew off or climbed down the plant only to climb up again upon reaching the ground and then finally flying off after getting nothing from my little garden.

Then it was time to give up and get myself some aphids for dinner. What’s that again? Oh! I had fish for dinner. I wish ladybugs were edible though. Yum! I did get another shot of one with open elytra. Not the best, but all right for now.

Just kiddin' kindergartners

2011-09-16T23:57:00.002-04:00

Jay wasn’t eating his lunch. I asked, “Are you all right, Jay? Why aren’t you eating?” “I’m hurting,” Jay replied. “Your tummy is hurting? What’s hurting?” “My feelings.” “Did someone hurt your feelings?” “No, it just hurted.” Hmmm…

Al wasn't sitting properly, so he was the last to be called to wash his hands to prepare for lunch. I said, "I'll cover my eyes, and you can count to ten. When I open my eyes, you're seated properly." Al started counting: "one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen…" He stopped. I suppressed my laughter while imagining his sweet smile. "Oh!" he exclaimed, realizing he got carried away. I opened my eyes and saw his usual sheepish smile. "Go wash your hands, Al. Good counting." (During free time, Al’s favourite act is to turn around and around while counting to a hundred.)

Lester was caught pulling the hair of Al who was busy coloring. Al had never been into any fight before, unlike Lester. Lester was asked to sit in a chair away from Al. Al was comforted and asked, "Why was Lester pulling your hair?" "I don't know." "Did you do anything to him? Why did he get mad?" "He got mad at me because I didn't do anything." Hmmm…

Must be the kindest

2011-08-30T22:48:00.001-04:00

Must be the kindest
Of all starry wildflowers
Host to all creatures.
Jamison/08/30/2011

On these plains

2011-08-30T22:30:00.002-04:00

On these plains roamed my forefathers
Breathed on every gift from Heaven
Blazed the trails I now take
Leading me to hereafter.
Jamison/08/30/2011

2011-08-30T22:15:00.003-04:00

Holding on so tight
Against the winds of the Lake
Waterton is home.
Jamison/08/30/2011

By the window

2011-08-30T21:50:00.005-04:00

By the window of the Prince of Wales Hotel stay
And wait for my apparition on Waterton Lake.
Take my hand and we’ll glide where there’s no divide
No Alberta or Montana, or papers for border guards.
Just you and me entwined, soaring on cloud nine
Knowing no boundaries, no such oddities!
Jamison/08/30/2011

2011-08-30T21:31:00.003-04:00

Wish I could chomp, chomp
Chomp all my troubles away
By Waterton Falls.
Jamison/08/30/2011

2011-08-30T21:21:00.001-04:00

Would you care to spare
A few crispy crunchy chips
For a cute chipmunk?
Jamison/08/30/2011

Just when I’m about to give up…

2011-08-26T23:52:00.015-04:00

Just when I’m about to give up shooting butterflies, something new always comes along. So even after five years, thousands of shooting hours, and thousands of rejected butterfly photos taken in North America, my new discoveries prove that there’s so much more that I haven’t seen and so much more that I haven’t done. Why should I give up shooting butterflies? I’d like to do so until I’m 100. But here’s why I’m always close to giving up.

Experts say that I should use a tripod and a macro lens. The load, however, is too heavy and cumbersome for me, so I use my Canon Rebel T2i with a 55-250mm zoom lens and occasionally attach to it a 58mm close-up lens for smaller creatures like caterpillars.

I try not to be intimidated by photographers who come to Calgary Zoo’s Butterfly House with their tripods or monopods, twin lite flashes, and what I call paparazzi long lenses. Anyway, I’m just a hobbyist who hasn’t completed my gadgets nor gone to a photography school. Hence, I should feel good with my first shots of a Gulf Fritillary and a Postman Butterfly with their proboscises uncoiled and thrust down the flowers they landed on.

I can’t forget the moment I took these shots. I was ecstatic even if I knew that these shots could have been better with a tripod (or a monopod) and a macro lens. But why should I feel like giving up all the time?

Experts say that I should position my camera parallel to the butterfly’s wings so they come out sharp. After hundreds of shots of this kind, however, I feel like I had models who didn’t know any other way to pose for me. But just when I’m about to give up, I chance upon butterflies that are like balancing acrobats on a twig or leaf.

As macro photographers advise that I focus on the eyes, my wings do not turn out sharp; nevertheless, I thirst for more. Oh, I do focus on the eyes of butterflies that stare at me such as a Banded Orange Heliconian, but the result is not pretty. It’s eerie…

Experts say that I should use a fast shutter, a shallow depth of field or DOF, etc. In short, I should be shooting in manual mode. Now I really need help with this one because whenever I start changing settings, I lose my butterfly! I therefore set my camera to autofocus sports mode and take multiple shots of restless butterflies that go around flowers (perhaps trying to find the sweetest nectar) or jump from one bloom to another. Never mind what the experts say about switching to a point and shoot camera if I’m just using my single-lens reflex (SLR) camera in auto mode. I simply can’t lose a moment with my butterflies. Maybe next time with another subject, eh? At this point, let the experts scold me for what I’m doing.

Experts say that I should take lots of photos, but when I see the same 18 species on the same flowers or leaves, I’m ready to give up and leave the House. But always at this point, I spot new species such as a Malachite and a Tailed Jay, and new “acts” such as dancing and mating.

The dancing ritual is easy to see in the open, but most of the mating couples I see (except for the Zebra Longwing and the Pteronymia Notilla) stay discreet in the shade or behind the bushes and therefore pose more challenges for photographers as the garden is dense and off limits. I can imagine everyone’s jealousy as I balance myself on the narrow concrete border of the garden to reach as far as I can. Not wanting to be selfish though, I step aside and sort of show them the mating pairs that are hidden there.

Whenever I’m ready to give up, I also discover new locations or backgrounds such as the stone bench that surrounds the pond in the middle of the House. A Postman, for example, that lands like a plane on the bench and stares back at everyone is a new composition.

The pond with lilies itself is an interesting subject as coins from all over the world are scattered at the bottom and on lily pads. Visitors treat it like a wishing well, so a butterfly standing next to a coin on a lily pad poses different interpretations depending on the angle from which a shot is taken.

And as the children can’t help playing with the pond water, the bench is always wet and becomes a source of a cool drink for a thirsty Pteronymia Notilla.

Finaly, when my lens captures an extended finger or hand that desires to “feel” the beauty of a butterfly or to offer a flower to a Banded Orange Heliconian, it makes me want more.

The children further inspire me especially when they touch me in the arm and say, “Over there! Look!” in order to direct my attention to the butterflies they see nearby. Of course, their parents reprimand them (either for interrupting me or for talking to a stranger, or both), and the camera shake results in blurry shots, but I really don`t mind. I forgive the children for forgetting or breaking the rule because I think that forgetting is the result of our shared moments of joy with these lovely creatures.

Above all these, however, I think I ought not to give up shooting butterflies because they show me more than eating/drinking, dancing and mating; and complete magical metamorphosis. On several occasions, a pair of Banded Orange Heliconian butterflies presented intriguing behaviors I haven’t heard from butterfly experts. As I usually bend my knees to get to a butterfly’s level, one day I saw a Heliconian on a branch behind some plants. It was later joined by another and the pair started wrestling, as if one had to pin down the other. As I thought that their aggressiveness would lead to one’s demise, I asked myself if I should separate them. Before I could decide what to do, however, their abdomens met and they settled on a hanging mating position. Phew! Time and again though, another Heliconian hovered and tried to interrupt them but in vain.

Did this couple not know or want to do the courtship dance? On another occasion, while balancing myself on the narrow concrete border of the garden as I normally do, I spotted this melancholy Heliconian on a low branch in the middle of the garden, being “comforted” by another whose foreleg was even placed on the other’s right wing.

The usual courting ritual such as fluttering of wings to release the male scent was absent. The two simply shared a quiet moment before the male left. As I was off balance, these shots are blurry and may end up in my trash bin. Nevertheless, the memory of this drama will stay with me like an unsolved puzzle. Was there courtship or simply friendship? Finally, another Heliconian on a palm leaf was joined by another who gently flapped his wings now and then.

Surely there was courtship this time, but the two stayed this way for a long time (while everyone took pictures and waited for the result), and nothing happened. There was no mating, that is. What was the reason for the rejection when they were both of the same species? Had the female just mated? Did they just have a friendly chat? Just when I’m about to give up, there’s always something to think about and keep going.

Ah, butterflies! Ever beautiful, graceful, intelligent and mysterious… I’ll catch you through my lens until I’m a hundred.
Jamison/08/26/2011

2011-08-11T23:18:00.003-04:00

Wild rose, how sweet art thou?
Buzzing bees tire not their wings
Though intoxicated by your scent and nectar.
Wouldst thou be so kind (as the wormwood)
To make me a glass of absinthe?
Jamison/08/11/2011

Haiku on a lazy Sunday afternoon

2011-08-11T22:46:00.002-04:00

Atop a lamp post
Two seagulls silently watch
Lonely souls pass by.
Jamison/08/11/2011

The Rockies Haiku

2011-08-10T22:41:00.002-04:00

The mighty Rockies
Unspoiled, grand and majestic
Clearly God-sculpted.
Jamison/08/10/2011

A Song for Amy

2011-08-10T22:12:00.000-04:00

Who will forget your beehive hairdo?
Who will forget your Cleopatra makeup?
Who will forget your deep contralto voice?

Your talent is God’s gift
Your suffering, Christ’s crucifixion
Your death, paparazzi’s feast.

Who will sing your troubled mind?
Who will sing your broken heart?
Who will sing your toxic blood?

Sing a song for Amy
Sing a song of 27 years
Sing a song of painless sleep.
Jamison/08/10/2011

Chocolates Made in Heaven

2011-08-10T21:35:00.001-04:00

You drag your heavy frame stuck in a wheelchair
To the shop where you find real pleasure
By the sheer smell of sweets and simple treasures.

And, oh, the sight of all these chocolates!
You grab two regular bars and put in your bag.
I say no to that. They’re not the NSA kind.
I reach for the bars in your bag and return them
To the shelf, offer you cookies and chocolates
With no sugar added. You shake your head,
Tell me again that you know your body well
Better than your doctor and family members.
You want the regular chocolates.

Of course, you never win and I send you out
With whatever the doctor approves of.
At times, it’s harder when I have to call a nurse
For you’re leaving with nothing but your raging craving
For only one bar a week I should be giving.

You say your life sucks for you can’t get what you want
I say you ought to think of your condition,
But you rant about your situation.

On days when you don’t look at the chocolate collection
And ask for something else, a décor to liven up your room
I let out a deep sigh. We’re not fighting over sweets this time.

Truly your life has been a drag. Too early to be confined.
Too early to curse your diabetic diet.
Too early to wish for the end of it all.

You and I. We fight over chocolates for two years.
I try to cheer you up, you try to be grateful.
I wish the fights could go on, but your wish is granted.

On the first of August your heart set you free.
I did not even see you smile in the summer sun
For I was vacationing in my tropical haven.
Ben, oh, Ben, I pray you have…
… chocolates made in Heaven.
Jamison/08/10/2011

When it rains...

2011-05-23T22:04:00.005-04:00

When it rains on Victoria Day,
into the Conservatory I fly
and dance with the spring butterflies.
I sing a not-so-merry song 'til fall
when my feet stand still on ice
and wait to stomp again in the rain
... come next Victoria Day.
Jamison/23/05/2011

Tulips for you, lovely ladies

2011-05-22T23:39:00.007-04:00

Some of them are out this time.
Wish I could pick and send them to you,
but for now, enjoy these shots.

I pray for rain

2011-05-08T21:58:00.002-04:00

When my 15 bucks goes a long way
for the homeless, for battered women,
for children with cancer, for the children's hospital...
I pray for rain for a free car wash
And God usually pitches in.
Jamison/05/02/2011

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY

2011-05-07T20:49:00.001-04:00

Dear wonderful mothers,

May this day be filled with wonderful surprises from your family and loved ones.

May you grant everyone your usual understanding and forgiveness if they give you presents such as a pink lawn mower or rake. And may you do the same should your better halves forget this day (as much as they did your birthday and wedding anniversary).

May your ever be grateful for whatever attention you'll get today, your special day. And should you not get any attention, may you stand proud for all that's around you -- all that you made like God made the world -- your happy and healthy home and family.

As always, I salute you all each day, especially this special day.

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY everyone!

Your friend,

lina (longing for spring)

A robin sings

2011-04-30T10:00:00.001-04:00

Atop a crabapple tree, a robin sings a mournful song
As snow falls in frenzy and melts on the ground
Or piles up on the greening blades of grass.

It condoles with my losses --
Loss of a season, loss of a freedom
No gardening... no getting away
As gas price rose to $1.24 per liter.
Jamison/04/29/2011

Two sparrows sit still

2011-04-30T09:37:00.001-04:00

I sit at the table for a breakfast
(Of fried rice and two sunny side up eggs)
And look out the window and watch
Two sparrows sit still in a still barren tree
Perhaps sleeping or watching the sun rise
Perhaps dreaming or wondering whether it'll be
Another spring day of snowstorm or hail.
Jamison/04/30/2011

Where is spring?

2011-04-14T23:01:00.000-04:00

Just when we thought the roads had cleared, and some girls had come out in tubes and shorts, some bikers in their Harley-Davidsons (and some bald men with hot girls in their exotic cars driven top-down), it poured again last night and gave us 10-20 cm of snow until the morning light. Now I'm achy all over after half an hour of scraping to set my car free from its ice coating. Where in the world is spring?
Jamison/04/14/2011

It's the first day of spring, eh?

2011-03-20T19:05:00.004-04:00

Last night's snowfall should be the last, right? Wrong! The weatherman says it's a whole week of snowfall. What a way to welcome spring, eh? Nothing new, actually. It's always been this way in Calgary. And who's complaining anyway? Just the government, the motorists, and the parents. That's all!

We "kids" just love, love the snow. We stick our tongue out as it falls. We pick up some and slip it under one's coat. Behind one's neck, to be specific. That gives one the chills, and we roar in laughter. We roll up some and turn three balls into a snowman (or snowwoman). Then we take off our hats, shades and scarves to deck him (or her) up. Then, of course, our parents wonder why we come home wearing less... And finally, there's the piling of blocks of snow to make a fort, digging into a hill of snow to make a shelter, lying in the snow to make snow angels, or simply having a snow fight and a lot more. See how creative we could get with snow?

The local government, on the other hand, has to spend millions (?) on snow removal. Be it by snow blowing, plowing or shovelling, or sanding the roads for safety, it's all about money. Motorists also complain about not being able to drive as fast as they want to (!), or they end up into the ditch and wait for many chilly hours before getting rescued. Parents get tired of getting their kids dressed up in layers upon layers of clothing. And as their children come home with less clothing each day, they also get tired of buying winter clothing for six months! Imagine how much that costs? They also have to make sure that their sidewalks are free of snow, unless they want a ticket (a fine, that is) especially if one slips and falls in front of their house. They also have to get used to the mound of snow in their front yard. Unfortunately, it's not a pretty sight as it gathers dirt and melts when the sun shines. Anyways, spring is here and we kids care not whether it snows or not. For when the sun shines and the roads clear up, we can just keep on playing, eh?

Jamison/03/20/2011

You shouldn't smile like that

2011-02-05T22:26:00.003-05:00

You shouldn't smile like that, Eric
Just stay in your wheelchair by the window
enjoy a newspaper or a book as you normally do.
Be gentle and generous, and speak your mind, but no,
you shouldn't smile like that.

You shouldn't smile like that, Eric
Just come to the gift shop for your moisturizing creme
or for a little something for your loving partner.
Be conversant though you have a hoarse voice, but no,
you shouldn't smile like that.

You shouldn't smile like that, Eric
Just be our wise friend, neighbor and great protector
who has conquered his own pain and ailment.
Be brave as you survive another bout of pneumonia, but no,
you shouldn't smile like that.

You shouldn't smile like that, Eric
for you charm everyone's hearts
and give them a prick like a thorny thistle,
for they know too well soon you'll be gone,
leaving them broken hearted and in so much pain.

On second thought, thank you for smiling, Eric.
For at 78, you'd warmed countless hearts
and showed the ailing so much gallantry.
Farewell to you on January 30
and though our pain is sharp and our sorrow deep,
we paint a smile on our face...
in sweet remembrance.
Jamison/02/05/2011

Until We Meet Again, Marion

2011-01-29T21:06:00.005-05:00

More than a year with you was not enough. You were having breakfast in bed while watching TV the first Saturday morning I met you. (And it would be that way in many Saturday mornings that we would share.) Your sepia tone photo as a nurse in uniform adorned your bedroom wall. The sparrows were noisily chirping while feasting on what you ordered for them in the bird feeder hanging outside your window. The view from your bed was picture perfect, as we both agreed. Potted flowering plants were on the table by the window. There was the bird feeder, the deciduous trees, the squirrels and rabbits and deer, and staff and visitors that kept the parking lot alive... And there you were with your bread and jam, sunny-side up eggs, muffin, and orange juice. And there I was for moments spent chatting about whatever was on TV or outside your window, or fussing over your plants. And as always, you'd say, "Thank you, my dear." But as your orchids wouldn't bloom, I got you purple orchids on your 88th birthday. They gladly stayed until the 20th of December--a brave witness to your last breath. I came today to wish you well and to fertilize your orchids as I promised weeks earlier. (Sadly, I was not allowed in because of the norovirus outbreak.) So the nurse found it hard to respond to my Christmas greeting and query
about your health today. "Oh, she's gone. It was time. I'm sorry..." Just like all that I loved who had gone ahead, I asked why you couldn't wait for me. Now my Saturday mornings won't be the same again. Marion, until we meet again...
Jamison/12/25/2010

Laughter on the job

2011-01-27T22:21:00.006-05:00

Subbing for a pre-K teacher in a day care is not easy considering the developing speech of the children. Here are some examples:

Pamela cried as her Dad was leaving. She came to me and said, "I want bed." "You want a bed? You can lie down over there," I pointed at the corner where there was a mat and pillows. She did lie on the mat and lay her head on a pillow but still continued to cry, "I want bed!" Then it dawned on me, "Oh, you want Dad!"

As I was about to leave the class, some of the kids gave me a hug. Eva said, "I want a bug." "You want a bug?" I asked. She nodded her head, ran to me and gave me a hug. "Oh, you wanted a hug, too!"

It was breakfasttime and Anna stared at the toasts in front of her. She said, "I wa oa me." No, she didn't want "Oh, me!" for there were only three choices for breakfast: toasts, cereals, and oat meal. Now you can guess what she wanted.
25 Jan. 2011

Laugh with kids

2011-01-27T22:16:00.000-05:00

In a day care where five-year-old children talk about having "two moms" and/or "two dads" because mom has a second husband and/or dad has a second wife, a four-year-old could get confused. One day while making Christmas cards, for example, a teacher was helping a four-year-old boy write to his dad. "To Dad," the teacher said. The boy was quick to correct her by saying, "No. One Dad. I have one Dad." 25 Jan 2011

Thank you, Dr. Dimalanta

2010-11-13T22:40:00.003-05:00

It was time for poetry reading at De La Salle University. You came quietly and walked slowly to your seat (with the usual dignity I had known in more than two decades), with your nurse behind you. I felt a pain stab my heart, knowing that soon we might lose you.

Somebody else read your poem, but my eyes were on you as you sat motionless, expressionless amidst a crowd that tried to comprehend your verses as always. We gave you a standing ovation, and you acknowledged it with a forced smile that was too painful for me to look at. I wanted to speak with you and thank you for being my patient professor and thesis adviser at the University of Sto. Tomas, for introducing me to Bienvenido Santos (whose messages didn't really get to me until I moved to North America). I wanted to thank you for your passion for literature which inspired me to pursue graduate studies at DLSU. (But now I doubt my own passion as I switched to Special Education.) I wanted to thank you for "Montage" which we could hardly comprehend then. But the crowd was thick, and I didn't want you to get exhausted by this event and compliments. And now my deep sorrow and regret...
Jamison/11/13/2010

Three wonderful women

2010-11-13T21:32:00.003-05:00

Nancy, Donna, Ophelia. What do they have in common? Nancy was resilient. Walking in the halls of the care center kept her going. Even when she finally had to use a wheelchair, she simply kept going, enjoying the limited freedom she was well aware of. Donna was a woman of simple elegance, of immense beauty and strength. She smiled at everyone in church, held her husband's hand, and spoke only when she must. Ophelia was a wife, mother, poet, and my mentor in college. I admired and adored her for her intelligence and the burning passion in her poems. What do they have in common aside from being the women I wanted to be? They all left me this fall, in such quiet dignity and grace -- enough to make me love them more.
Jamison/11/13/2010

When Nancy walks no more

2010-11-13T20:45:00.001-05:00

She walks up and down the hall
24 hours a day, if at all possible
(like the restless me that cross perilous seas).
She smiles as she trembles and talks about
distant pasts that in her head abound.

So when nature finally mercilessly strikes,
in her lonely bed, Nancy peacefully lies.
(Perhaps thinking of the walks she's now denied?)
October 30 is the last of Nancy
And she walks no more with me.

I will surely miss her smile and stories
I wonder if she's crossing some unknown seas?
Jamison/10/30/2010

Gophers' picnic at the park

2010-10-16T22:57:00.003-04:00

A father takes his two girls to the park,
The source of high-pitched, chirping sounds.
The girls make calls with bread crusts in their hands.
Out of their holes come the gophers surveying the land
Of predators like coyotes, weasels, owls, hawks.
And when none is found, out comes the horde
And feasts on crumbs from girls who will grow
Not as exterminators of gophers and moles.
Jamison/10/16/2010

The squirrel and the magpie

2010-10-16T22:22:00.002-04:00

"You won't have my nut!"
"It's not what I want, you nuts!
Your flesh on my buds!"
Jamison/10/16/2010

Skipper butterflies

2010-10-16T22:04:00.004-04:00

I see one of you at the park in summertime
We both watch the Elbow River flow with the sunshine
(And without my bug spray, I get all the mosquito bites.)
I see one of you on the school grounds
You park on the fence waiting for my rounds
Unshaken even if our balls over you bounce.
I see one of you quench your thirst on our doormat
And another on a wildflower in our garden lands
Skipper butterflies, you're everywhere I stand.
Peck's skipper, Delaware skipper, Woodland skipper
Fiery skipper, Long Dash skipper, whatever name you prefer
I wish you could stay all year and always be there
And remind me that this life can be shorter...

Jamison/10/16/2010

Haiku for a common merganser

2010-10-16T01:58:00.003-04:00

Surprising hairdo
I thought you had gel on you
Common merganser.
Jamison/10/15/2010

Before the first snow of fall

2010-10-16T01:05:00.010-04:00

Before the first snow of fall
my students couldn't help picking
baby caterpillars from the playground,
skipper butterflies couldn't help sniffing
the last mums and roses in my garden,
the squirrels couldn't help digging
the tulip bulbs I buried deep for next spring
(when they have enough nuts for winter),
the sparrows couldn't help playing
hide and seek in the naked bushes,
the bugs couldn't help foraging
for the last sweets and proteins of summer...

Ah! Before the first snow of fall
we couldn't help basking in the sun
and rolling on cracking leaves and twigs,
for all these lives and colors will come to rest
and back again before they are missed.
Jamison/10/15/2010

My first jack o' lantern

2010-10-15T23:32:00.006-04:00

My arms were aching for I had been picking
the largest pumpkin for my first jack o' lantern.
You see I had this dream one day like Michaelangelo I'd be sculpting
but times were a-changin', so I ended up teaching...

So now came the time to test my hands and patience
and my first jack o' lantern came into existence.
In the process, however, I broke my knife of five years
Should I buy a new one or sweets for trick or treaters?

Oh, well, I've two weeks left to save and think
for my jack o' lantern to be lit and invite the kids?
or for my jack and I to stay inside and hide
as I admire a new, sharp knife?

Hmmm... I might not have what it takes
to make Michaelangelo's Pieta, David or Moses
But I think I can afford another pumpkin
and a little treat for each kid a-knockin'
...come Halloween.
Jamison/10/15/2010

Remembering Lore

2010-09-11T23:08:00.002-04:00

When every breath was a struggle,
Lore inhaled and exhaled
With the sound of resistance
From her nose, through the tube
Down to her oxygen tank...
Yet she moved on and on
Pulling her wheelchair with labored steps.

When every breath was a struggle,
Lore inhaled and exhaled
Aided by a tank that always fell and beeped
The cold tank she'd pick up herself
And lay on her lap with all her might
Yet she moved on and on
Pulling her wheelchair with labored steps.

When every breath was a struggle,
Lore inhaled and exhaled
She'd quietly play solitaire in the hall
Or squeeze into the tiny gift shop
To try earrings with trembling hands...
Yet she moved on and on
Pulling her wheelchair with labored steps.

When Lore's struggle was finally over
On the fourth of cold and rainy September
She must have toiled for the smile I never saw
And on her face neither pain nor sorrow.
Jamison/09/11/2010

Ang Paglipad

2010-07-31T20:28:00.003-04:00

Okey kung ang runway ay patag at tuyo
Hindi basa at madulas dahil sa ulan o snow.
Fasten your seatbelt, lean back and relax...
At chewing gum huwag kalimutan.

Makinig sa attendant at sundin ang hagubilin
Patayin ang cellphone kung ayaw mong ika'y pababain.
Manood sa demo kung paano suutin
Oxygen mask at life vest 'di mo man naisin.

Pagpasensiyahan ang bagal ng takbo o taxi sa runway
Maya-maya lamang ay hihiyaw ang makina't
Tatakbong parang fighter plane
At aangat ang tone-toneladang metal...

Sa ere'y kay ganda ng ulap, ang sarap ipinta sa canvas.
Ang ibaba'y depende sa lugar
May kulay ba ng bahag-hari dagat at taniman?
O kulay kalawang bubong na salan-salan?

Kung walang matanaw dahil gabi,
O 'di kaya'y sa pakpak nakatabi,
Makinig sa musika o manood ng sine
Tatlo o anim na pelikula pwedeng tapusin
Kung Pacific o Atlantic ay tatawirin.

Depende siyempre kung may bayad ang headphones,
O pay per view ang mga palabas.
Kung gayo'y magbasa o matulog gawing hilig
Pasakan ang tenga kung may himihilik,
Katabing madaldal, o sanggol na 'di matahimik.

Fasten your seatbelt...
Magkaminsa'y may turbulence
Huwag isipin kanta ni Alanis Morissette:
"Mr. Play It Safe was afraid to fly
He packed his suitcase and kissed his kids goodbye
He waited his whole damn life to take that flight
And as the plane crashed down he thought
'Well isn't this nice...'
And isn't it ironic... don't you think"
Makakarating din naman kahit saan
Biyaheng langit man o tamang daan...

Fasten your seatbelt, lean back and relax...
Dahil sa wakas, you're ready to land
Kagulat-gulat man ang touchdown,
Piloto'y pasalamatan na lang
Lalo na't ika'y buo pa rin, 'di pira-piraso
Lagi sanang ganyan sa tuwing paglipad mo. Jamison/07/31/2010

Maligayang Kaarawan, Ka Joel!

2010-07-30T13:34:00.001-04:00

Sa wakas, kuwarenta ka na rin!
Aking sinapit ilang taon na kung turingin
At simpleng handaan din
Gawa ng mga mahal sa akin.

Pareho pa rin maraming bagay sa atin
Bukod sa paghihirap sa De La Salle
At hangad na pagbabago sa lipunan,
Awit at tula sa ati'y parang dasal
Tamis ng huni at sambit sa umaga,
Kasing-sarap ng mainit na pandesal.

Ang pagkakaiba lamang natin
Pagtuturo'y di nakakapagod sa akin
Lalo't mga mag-aaral may tanging angkin.
Ang paglalayag marahil ay naiiba
Nagbibigay ng ibayong sagana.
Isa kasi akong dandelion, umuusbong dito at doon.

Maligayang kaarawan, Ka Joel!
Nais mo bang tumungo sa Cyprus bilang fruit picker?
O sa Australia o New Zealand bilang cow herder?
Tanawin ang mga bituin paghiga sa damuhan
Handugan ng awit at tula ang kalikasan?
Anumang direksyon o simulain and naisin mo
Ka Joel, dangal at ligaya laging nasa iyo.

Maligayang kaarawan, Ka Joel!
Isang paalala mula sa dating kamag-aral:
Laging may katuturan ang iyong pag-iral
Tingnan mo ang iyong tahanan at mag-aaral,
Pakinggan mo ang iyong musika't tula... at isigaw:
"Higit pa sa makahulugan...
... aking pag-iral!"
Jamison/07/30/2010

Tulips for you, lovely ladies

2010-05-24T00:13:00.004-04:00

Can't send you real ones
So here they are instead...
(These should multiply next spring
Whether or not I'm still here...)

Just how rich is your yard?

2010-05-23T19:05:00.006-04:00

Is it with a garden with food scraps
For squirrels to steal like cash?
Is it with worms as big as baby snakes,
Feasted over by birds that shake
And bobble their heads as they chuckle
And try not to lose grip of slimy, slippery worms
That've grown fat and juicy after hibernation?
05/23/2010

I know what you did in spring...

2010-05-23T17:38:00.005-04:00

You froze at the sight of me,
Then ran through the wire mesh,
Stopped in the middle of the football field
And buried your 100th nut about 3 inches deep.

When snowfall starts long before winter,
I hope your sense of smell remains keen
And your triangulation skill doesn't fail.
For you just might give up with snow 12-inch deep
And leave the peanut to grow and multiply
To feed strangers like me who now know why
To nut-bearing plants we never say goodbye.
05/23/2010

From bulbs to blooms

2010-04-19T22:36:00.012-04:00

Never thought I could grow daffodils...

If you're used to...

2010-04-08T22:48:00.004-04:00

If you're used to wintry days
With the grey, gloomy sky above
And the blinding whiteness of snow below,
The gentleness of powdery, fluffy snowflakes
That swirl with the chinook,
Like a whisper from the great Rockies,
The weight of granular flakes
That melt as they land on your nose
And pack on the road,
Into a cycle of melting and refreezing.
Or the danger of a snow slab,
An immortalizing avalanche...

If you're used to wintry days
With your heavy clothing and breathing,
Not to mention your nose running,
Your boots either "slip, slip, sliding"
Or dig, dig, dimming your chances
Of getting anywhere on time.
And the same go with your tires
As they slip, slip, slither like snakes
Or dig, dig, devilishly screaming for help
So to the rescue you go with your shovel...

If you're used to wintry days,
A day of sunshine is equally blinding
You need your dark shades and hat,
Suntan lotion and deodorant,
(Though not necessarily in that order.)
And you complain about the heat
And your seemingly smelly, sweaty feeling
So you wish for your wintry days back
Which come anyway be it spring, summer or fall
And you're really, really glad...
... if you're used to wintry days.
04/08/2010

The Furry Thief

2010-04-04T23:42:00.007-04:00

The garden is empty but rich
Rich in food scraps, that is.
Ready to play host to anything
Anything that's green
Anything that wiggles
Anything with four, six, eight legs
Anything with beaks...

But today there's a furry thief
Caught with a scrap in its hands,
(Or front feet, as you say?)
Freezing here and there
As it sneaks out of the garden
And finally drops what it's taken.

Poor furry thief
Now frozen on top of the fence
Empty-handed.
04/04/2010

Lost on school grounds

2010-04-04T23:03:00.007-04:00

It's March and it's spring.
What choice does it have but to slip out?
From the crack on the ground
Where ice has melted
Where grass has turned green.
It must be blind not to see
Raging feet as the bell rings,
Stomping on puddles, kicking balls,
Crushing its kind until a child stops
And gently pushes it back into the crack.
Now ain't that one lucky unscathed ladybug?
04/04/2010

Forced Daffodils

2010-04-04T23:01:00.004-04:00

Forced daffodils bloomed in winter
Used up its energy and withered
Never to flower again
In sweet revenge.
04/04/2010

Winter Shots

2010-02-20T22:59:00.026-05:00

Little yellow daffodils in the car.
Patiently waiting to be taken home
While the car's in line for a wash.

Pink tulips waiting for sunset.

Orange tulips by the window.

Trees that line the streets of Calgary.

Another tree heavy with snow.

Soccer ball on my antenna.

See you later, Edgardo "Egie" Bay

2010-02-14T20:51:00.010-05:00

A wonderful friend, son, father, husband
A big brother to all, ready to lend a hand.
How could you leave so soon
And leave us all in gloom?

I hope the world has been kind
Nature sometimes has its own mind
Never telling us ahead of time
Our bells are about to chime.

For now, it's see you later, our friend
For we know which Garden you are to tend
Egie, precious child of our Father,
Welcome us when we get there.
02/14/2010

Poor Zebra

2009-12-01T22:07:00.002-05:00

A zebra was mutilated, cut into quarters
Turned into violet, chromatic grey,
Cool colours and warm colours--
My first painting lessons.
Having done all these,
Still I don't have answers.
Does it have black or white stripes?
But, hey, who cares if I were its master?
It'll be rainbow-coloured next.
10/30/2009

Sweet Lily

2009-12-01T22:05:00.005-05:00

Sweet lily, like the Heavens above,
You stand and keep watch
As I bow my head and pray
And thank the One who makes
Each day worth the wait.
11/13/2009

On Letting Go

2009-11-29T21:38:00.003-05:00

My painting instructor had to gently snatch my fine point brush from my hand on our last day. She let it rest in my mug of water and nicely told me not to touch it. It was her last chance to push me anyway. She encouraged me with the words "I trust you" and reminded me (and everyone) of inexactitude in painting. Instead of replicating reality in minute detail and denying myself the opportunity to interpret it or to provide viewers with my own impression of things, I could let go of my brush. (I couldn't blame myself though, after acquiring some techniques in photography and portraiture.) Hence, tonight I thought of letting go and got my persevering ladybug to the tip of the first leaves of spring. It was liberating. 11/27/2009

Second Still Life

2009-11-29T20:55:00.007-05:00

It was scary standing there, doing a live painting of several unfamiliar things. First, I couldn't get the footbal's shape. And I hated that it stood on an uneven surface. Second, the drum's intricate design seemed impossible to duplicate. Finally, I couldn't discern the varying values of the white sheet in the well-lit room. I was near panic. But I hit my canvas anyway and pounded on it for twelve hours in the next six days. The first result was an ungrounded flute, as if it was floating in the air. And then the high value background was stealing the viewer's attention from the subjects. Hence, the seventh day was spent on fixing whatever I thought was fixable given my time, energy and enthusiasm. Once I'd exhausted everything though, I left the background unfinished and said goodbye before my love for it turned to hate. Farewell to my second still life. 11/16/2009

On Painting a Wet Mallard

2009-11-29T20:10:00.004-05:00

You stared at me, a spectator of your beauty.
Against the current you posed for me,
So I clicked my camera quickly
While your mate lingered on patiently.

In my bedroom, you stared just the same,
So I grabbed my brush and took great pains
To recreate you each night
With that light in your eyes.

Now that you're on canvas,
It's my turn to stare and watch,
Imagining your wetness in its absence
Wondering how much pain it takes
To recreate you to exactness.
11/24/2009

Chrysanthemum...

2009-11-29T20:02:00.006-05:00

Chrysanthemum, sweet lilies,
black forest cake, chocolates...
What else could I ask for
when not a penny I need spend
to bathe my room in fragrance
to satisfy my sweet tooth...?
Ah! Wouldn't I wish now
for each day to be my birthday?
11/10/2009

2009-10-07T23:04:00.007-04:00

My pink poppies are just the best
Never running out of sweetness
For their enamoured lovers
Even until their baldness.
10/07/09

2009-10-07T22:53:00.005-04:00

Standing high and tall over those
Who've turned grey and, oh, so old
A youthful uncaring beauty
Prob'ly not knowing her own destiny.
10/07/09

2009-10-07T22:33:00.005-04:00

Who's stopping the game?
Neither rain nor snow, my dear.
Ain't anyone chilled?
10/07/09

2009-10-07T22:25:00.004-04:00

Fall has fin'lly come
And so have frost and snowfall.
A colorful mix.
10/07/09

HAIKU-WRITING IN SUMMER

2009-09-12T18:32:00.003-04:00

Like headless buddies
Busy harvesting sweetness.
Bees on sunflowers.
09/12/09

2009-09-12T18:31:00.002-04:00

One gloomy morning
Perched high up an eerie tree
A spooky black bird.
09/12/09

2009-09-05T21:57:00.006-04:00

Sunflower's green still
Turned into a lady's nest
Baby bug sleeps tight.
Jamison/09/05/09

2009-09-05T21:56:00.005-04:00

Poppies now wither
Bugs bathe in their pollen still
Sweetness in summer.
Jamison/09/05/09

2009-09-05T21:53:00.002-04:00

Wildflowers shaking
A mouse munching blooms within
Vegetarian?
Jamison/09/05/09

2009-08-03T20:21:00.006-04:00

Nose Hill not so high
Much of sky and wildflowers
Over Calgary.
Jamison/08/03/09

2009-08-03T20:20:00.003-04:00

Sweet, sweet wild roses
So wet from last night's torment
Pink and ever fresh.
Jamison/08/03/09

2009-08-03T20:18:00.004-04:00

Calgary Stampede
Pancake and sausage breakfasts
Colorful parade.
Jamison/08/03/09

2009-08-03T20:15:00.004-04:00

On Elbow River
Wading, floating, queueing
Seven cute goslings.
Jamison/08/03/09

2009-08-03T20:13:00.003-04:00

A handsome mallard
Always followed by his wife
Against the current.
Jamison/08/03/09

2009-08-03T20:12:00.003-04:00

Goslings gather 'round
Their parents for protection.
Staying alive.
Jamison/08/03/09

2009-08-03T20:09:00.003-04:00

A ladybug hangs
Tight on the first bud of spring
At Bird Sanctuary.
Jamison/08/03/09

2009-08-03T20:08:00.004-04:00

He stares sadly out
Through the dirty glass window
A peacock within.
Jamison/08/03/09

2009-08-03T20:05:00.004-04:00

A goose walks alone
Trying to find its way home
In Calgary Zoo.
Jamison/08/03/09

2009-08-03T20:02:00.004-04:00

River's inviting
But no swimming or bathing
Allowed anywhere.
Jamison/08/03/09

Do you always come this way?

2009-08-03T15:17:00.004-04:00

In the dead of night,
The howling, whistling wind heralds your coming
As trumpeters do for their king and queen.

Then you start to splatter and beat the dry ground,
Looking ancient with its deep cracks,
Looking like the heels of a slain giant,
Gathering weeds, wildflowers and whatnots.

Then thunder back up your merciless pounding,
And you both make mad music from the irate heaven,
Sounding like a thousand frenzied drummers.
Sounding like tribal wars across the plains.

In an hour, you spitter and spatter,
And leave the soaking earth in silence,
With grasses pitifully pinned to the ground,
And wet creepy crawlies safe and sound.

When the sun shines, I tread on soft ground
And stop to smell the wide-eyed wild roses,
Wondering why you punish them every night this summer.
Do you always come this way?
Jamison/08/02/09

An "Angel" and A "Bad Boy"

2009-08-03T15:16:00.002-04:00

An angel and a bad boy leave the world today.
The angel, at 62, succumbs to cancer.
The bad boy, at 50, stops breathing.

The angel therefore can no longer chase villains.
As a wife, no longer battered.
As a mother, no longer suffering.

The bad boy therefore can no longer do the moonwalk,
Scare you with another "Thriller,"
Or get everyone to sing "We Are the World" again.

Yes, the angel and the bad boy are no longer here
But they'll surely stay forever
Where there is fortitude and bravery,
Where there is creativity and energy,
Where there is a lot of love and compassion...
There's an angel and a bad boy.
Jamison/06/25/09

Sad and Pale

2009-06-13T22:18:00.004-04:00

Why so sad and pale, flamingo dear,
while you stand on one leg and sleep?
Don't you like the number on your leg tag
such that you tuck it in and hide?
Don't you like the fake lake you bathe in,
or the fence you see each day?
Don't you like standing like a celebrity,
easily captured by the paparazzi?
Why so sad and pale, flamingo dear?
Would you rather be elsewhere?
Jamison/06/13/09

Dancing in Vain

2009-06-13T16:09:00.005-04:00

A majestic peacock in a royal blue coat and crown,
and iridescent blue eyes on his green plumes,
greets lady visitors in the zoo
and begins the ritual dance of courtship,
spreading his tail, turning several times in all magnificence
as if basking in his God-given glory and splendor
while the ladies snap, snap, snap their cameras.
Then he slowy folds up his tail and shyly walks away,
as if finally realizing he is dancing in vain
for the ladies aren't peahens.
Jamison/06/12/09

Two Geese

2009-06-12T22:46:00.009-04:00

Two geese stood in front of two vending machines.
They waited, and paced back and forth many times
before finally giving up (for no bottled water
nor Pepsi in can came tumbling down).
Jamison/06/12/09

David Carradine (1936- 2009)

2009-06-10T21:41:00.001-04:00

You were Kwai Chang Caine
before you were Bill 30 years later,
turning us into kung fu kids,
fighting unseen evils.
(Good thing we didn't know
martial arts you knew nothing about.)

When you were ruthless Bill,
we wanted the Bride to win,
and so she did and in the end,
you said goodbye and was dead.

Now that you're gone for good,
leaving behind precious talents like gold,
we'd like to keep your passing a mystery,
a constant enigma just like our destiny.
Jamison/06/10/09

Oh, Manhattan!

2009-06-10T20:56:00.001-04:00

In your maze of steel and glass skyscrapers,
adorned by neon lights and electronic billboards,
is your bumper to bumper traffic
with honking yellow cabs and black limousines,
mixing their fumes with the aromas
of burgers, hotdogs, and salty pretzels,
served daily to your obedient slaves.
Oh, Manhattan!
Jamison/06/10/09

Benjamin Button and I

2009-05-19T23:00:00.005-04:00

Aboard Korean Air bound for Canada, I met Benjamin reluctantly after reading Dickens and seeing everything on the video list. As I had thought earlier, he'd be the most incredible character ever created. Indeed he was... Nevertheless, some of his lines struck me and forced me to make a connection with him. Here are the top three lines I'd like to remember about Benjamin (and me):

"It's a funny thing about comin' home. Looks the same, smells the same, feels the same. You'll realize what's changed is you."

I've crossed the seas and have always come home to the most familiar sights and sounds (which are not always to my liking). I still see the apartments we lived in since the 1960s and the same jeepney drivers plying the same routes and smoking the same cigarette brands. The Pasig River still smells the same (maybe worse), but people are braver such that they ride the fully air-conditioned ferry to avoid the usual traffic on Manila's roads. Everything feels the same, more or less. Some hearts grow cold with distance while others grow fonder; I simply respond accordingly. It does feel good seeing the same people or new ones: newly born, grown, aged. And it's the time to visit the departed and apologize for my absence... How much I have changed I can't tell. After an Easter by the Black Sea, a walk at the ruins of Troy, an autumn by the Carpathians, a week by the Danube, a weekend with the Lumbees, midnight on a moonless prairie... through discrimination, harassments, cultural conflicts, dangers and close calls (not to forget the lines in my face) I should be a better me.

"Along the way you bump into people who make a dent on your life. Some people get struck by lightning. Some are born to sit by a river. Some have an ear for music. Some are artists. Some swim the English Channel. Some know buttons. Some know Shakespeare. Some are mothers. And some people can dance."

Some strangers interpreted for me in Russia, Moldova and Romania. Some landlords treated me as if I were their own child. A tutor picked herbs from the forest for my tea. Some friends made sure I was warm during my first winter and kept me company at Christmas. A "big brother" reprimanded me for being so naive sometimes. Some men thought they could be my lovers. Some taxi drivers asked me about Imelda's shoes. Some students said, "I love you" every day. Some colleagues hugged me tight I thought my bones would crush. Some motorists stopped to offer help when I was in distress... From strangers to friends or friends to strangers, they all helped me through difficult times or made my life away from home more bearable and very colorful. I should be thankful for being so blessed with these wonderful people.

"For what it's worth: it's never too late or, in my case, too early to be whoever you want to be. There's no time limit, stop whenever you want. You can change or stay the same, there are no rules to this thing. We can make the best or the worst of it. I hope you make the best of it. And I hope you see things that startle you. I hope you feel things you never felt before. I hope you meet people with a different point of view. I hope you live a life you're proud of. If you find that you're not, I hope you have the strength to start all over again."

For those who haven't stopped inquiring about my age, here are some clues: I stopped my life at 29 when I left for my first taste (literally) of snow, at 36 when I thought I could leave teaching for good, at 41 when I discovered the realities in the land of milk and honey, and at 44 when I embarked on a journey of endless possibilities. Whether this is my last stop, I can't tell for I am not yet in acquaintance with the wonders of every wildflower, every tree, every mountain, or every soul on this road I've taken. Should there be a need to start all over again, time will tell if I have the strength to do so. For now, I promise to make the best of everything and to regret nothing. I know that those who know me so well will agree and continue to walk with me no matter how often I stop my life and challenge time. Jamison/04/17/09

Let It Snow

2009-03-12T21:58:00.002-04:00

You came in silence tonight
just as I thought you might,
following yesterday's chinook
that nudged me as I walked
that shook me as I drove.

Today your thick soft carpet concealed
the slippery ice still stuck on the road,
so we swerved and skidded as we drove.

In November, the first sight of you was a reminder
it'd be a white Christmas, a longer winter.
Good thing the city plowed and scattered sand,
so on the roads, we could pass.

When you came wet, hard, and heavy
like gravel, sand and cement that's watery,
there was not much the city could do
as wheels were trapped, stuck on you.
Hence we pushed each other's cars,
plowed and plowed with all our might.

When the sun shone, your piles melted,
flooding our streets and basements.
And just when the road was showing,
you came again bit by bit, slowly layering
the road as if it were a scalp gathering
dandruff and wanting lots of scratching.

Well, oh, well. Let it snow, I'd say.
Do come now and then,
let your crystals and flakes decorate
our windows and windshields.

Let the kids enjoy snowball fights,
roll you over and make a snowman,
throw or bury themselves into your pile,
build forts, dig caves, whatever they desire
(while adults fret at the sight of you and sigh).
Let it snow, I'd say, until next wintertime.
Jamison/03/08/09

You're my kind of woman

2009-03-04T23:14:00.002-05:00

You're my kind of woman -- a superwoman!
You get up today, get the whole household
ready for school or work.
That's whether you're awake or not,
whether you're well or not.

Then you get to work to earn a living,
or to extend your habit of giving
as a judge, teacher, writer,
doctor, nurse, caregiver, cleaner...
or simply the power behind a world leader.

You pick up your kids at the end of the day,
take them to their favorite ballgame,
to their piano, ballet or swimming lesson...
You pick them up again, sometimes along
with the kids of your neighbor,
with whom you share some of your labour.

After dinner you help with homework
and read the teachers' notes...
Did your boy act up again?
Did your girl bully another?
Did they do so well?
Again you analyze your kind of parenting.

Bedtime comes and you struggle
to get your kids to snuggle.
Is it a fight over the cellphone or computer?
Over the play station or television?
And when at last you get into position
like a child yourself needing attention,
is there a man giving you some affection?
Whether or not there is, you're still the same
mother, sister, daughter, neighbor...
who gives everyone your all and never questions
why you're a woman who rises and shines
selflessly like the sun that never tires.

Today and each day, I pray that you stay
to be my kind of woman -- a superwoman!
Jamison/02/25/09

My Name is Focus

2009-03-03T23:05:00.002-05:00

My name is Focus.
My birth certificate says I was born in 2000.
But of course I was conceived in 1999.

In a nursery in North Carolina,
I was picked by my first owner.
But five years later, I was back for surgery
after I was crashed without mercy.

Oh, you wouldn't want to know
the pain and embarrasment
to be towed and paraded on the road
while motorists stared like toads!
(I wish a tow truck were like an ambulance
where a dying man can hide.)

Anyway, I was glad to have a new front
though not of my original gene,
so I felt like having plastic false teeth!

My second owner was a teacher
who called me her "silver bullet"
for indeed I sped to South Carolina,
Georgia and Florida, and back
though she never cared to brush my dust
or to cleanse my internal organs
even before she sold me to another teacher,
my third and current owner.

This lady calls me her "precious Focus".
She scrubbed me inside and out
until everyone was envious.
She got coins, a screwdriver, a flashlight,
and other knicknacks from under my seats.
From my back, she got rid of some earth
enough for me to grow weed.

I became more precious as she replaced
my diseased parts and made up my face.
My sides got scratched by Wal-Mart shoppers
and by Blueberry Hill Road bikers,
but she fixed me with touch-up paint.

Yes, I was ready for New York in 2006,
but I was scared of Queen's Village
where on the side of the road I slept.
When one night a man was loud and drunken,
I thought I'd be mercilessly beaten.

I disliked the potholes, the road construction,
Manhattan's crowd and chaos,
and cab drivers that rudely honked.
The walking zombies also scared me --
the lost souls robbed of their dreams.
After years of gathering dust on the streets,
they look like walking dust nobody sees.

Hence, I was elated to be back in NC
despite my lady's genuine fear
of tornadoes, forest fires, and summer heat.

When I was groomed again in 2008,
I knew I was headed someplace,
though there was flooding in the midwest.
To the northwest I headed in four days,
feeling heroic after twice escaping death.
If I emerged unscathed, I thank my lady
whose hands on the wheel were steady
for she herself feared injury to her beauty.

I was glad to have reached Lethbridge
after a day on Montana's naked prairies.
I was lucky nobody heard or saw
how with my load, I groaned and crawled
like an old tortoise needing a push.

When my lady saw how my wheels
went as bald as Bruce Willis,
she gladly got me new ones,
and I wanted to dance.

In Calgary, I got a new heart
for my old one kept stopping at red lights.
It was less embarrasing when I got towed
because I was whole, never deformed.

When one night I broke a vein and bled
in the middle of the moonless prairie,
my lady proved I was precious
for she simply stayed close.

Winter driving wasn't easy for my lady
who nearly lost control of me before finally
learning to step on my pedals gently.
Otherwise, we'd be towed separately
though she, with more dignity.

For now my lady and I are watching time fly
as we both gracefully age and slow down.
One thing for sure she's learned the reality:
we're both middle-aged and shouldn't be
flying on roads where we shouldn't be.

Be Calgary our resting place,
I shouldn't complain.
It's what we both wanted:
sans the sights and sounds of a big city
and in the distance the endless prairies
adorned by the silhouette
of the heavenly Rockies.
Jamison/03/02/09

July 30, 2008: Midnight on the Moonless Prairie

2009-03-03T23:04:00.001-05:00

Tomorrow's a formal job interview, but my business suits are in Lethbridge where I originally wanted to settle. So armed with a map at the wheel, I decide to get my luggage after work. (Besides, I don't want to pay rent for another month.) I'm sure to be back and be in bed in four hours. I need some beauty rest...

The car's finally loaded with my boxes and suitcases; my stomach with hotdog and chips. It's nine -- my bedtime -- but I'm still in the middle of the moonless prairie. When suddenly... The engine chokes. White smoke billows from under the hood. The smell of burning coolant fills the car. Images of exploding cars in movies fill my mind, so I grab my bag and stand away from the car as I dial 911. "I'm afraid my car's going to catch fire," "What's your exact location?" Son of a gun! How do I know? I could hardly read the signs for speeding. Ooops!

A lady motorist stops to give my location to the operator, so my call is forwarded to two more operators. Finally... "Is it on fire?" "Oh, no. And it's no longer smoky." "Arent' you a member of CAA?" "Oh, yes, of course!" Dang! Cell phone at two bars now!

"Help is on the way." "Help is on the way." "Help is on the way." CAA operators say every 30 minutes while I shiver in the midnight air. I send messages to my aunt who pester CAA more. Ha!

I look out the window and imagine the flickering eyes of foxes or bears getting closer. I want to laugh at my silliness... The roaring trucks are getting fewer. Some drivers stop and peer through the window. Their tired faces with moustache; their heads with cowboy hats. They offer help and give their phone numbers. "Help is on the way. Thank you very much." Deep inside though, I feel they're true.

"Help" from CAA comes in the form of a lanky, suntanned man with the usual moustache and hat. He sips from two different mugs while driving in the middle of the road, hugging both lanes or swerving left and right like a slithery snake. Is he drunk or sleepy? How can I start my beauty rest? At 1:30 a.m., I'm in my warm bed in Calgary, dreaming about midnight on the moonless prairie. Will you come with me next time? Or will you lend me your new car? Zzzzz...
Jamison/07/30/08

Writing

2009-02-23T23:10:00.001-05:00

Writing could be a hobby
so much like photography
to capture humanity
in all its beauty, vanity or humility,
or inconsistency.
To capture nature
the mundane, you think for sure
will always be there tomorrow,
but when vanished, will bring you sorrow.

Writing could be a therapy
to an aching heart that used to be pain free,
to a lost soul that has found itself.
to a chained life, not without language,
to a free soul that helps heal others.

Writing has always been there
be it a pictograph or a petroglyph
on papyrus or clay tablets.
Take it with a warm embrace
and let go of your every breath.
Jamison/02/23/09

2008 Journey: North Carolina to Alberta

2009-02-19T22:45:00.003-05:00

Day 1: 14 June: Chillicothe, OH
I sit on the edge of this hotel bed unthinking, staring...
Some topless young men are drinking and smoking
at the parking of the next building.

Despite the whirring air conditioning,
I can still feel the sinking sun on my skin,
painful proof that I'm still living.
Earlier I thought I was a wandering spirit
trying to get away from this summer heat,
away from the sight of dead deer
numerous on the Interstate System.

I had a couple of close calls today:
nearly spun and ended in a ditch in North Carolina,
nearly crashed during a thunderstorm in West Virginia.
But marvelled at the grandeur of the Appalachians.

Day 2: 15 June: Menomonie, WI
Checking the weather forecast is what I need
in this hotel tonight. There's flooding in the mid-west
so to the northwest I must head.

Driving with two feet alternating
on the gas pedal did the trick.
1200 miles I've covered without complaining.
However my stomach is churning
with my daily dose of cookies, crackers,
chewing gums, potato chips, chocolates...

Not much action on the roads of Indiana and Illinois.
Just the usual race of cars and cargo trucks heading west.
No picture taking while driving at 95 mph either,
not wanting to be a passenger of EMS.

Day 3: 16 June: Dickinson, ND
Getting a room is a bit difficult here;
Elderly tourists are everywhere.
I need a cool place to plot the shortest route.

Driving on I-90W of Wisconsin and Minnesota
today was like racing with suntanned men
in their four wheel trucks and cowboy hats.

North Dakota's roads were rough
and here began sights of no man's land
and mine as the only breathing heart.

Day 4: 17 June: Lethbridge, AB
It's the season when most hotels are fully booked
so I'm glad to have found one soon
enough, before at the wheel I could snooze.

Driving on Montana Hwy2 today was like riding
a roller-coaster with myself as the lone rider,
with its uphill climbs and downhill slides,
the route taken by Louis and Clark.

An overdose of treeless, barren prairies,
though made heavenly by the Rockies,
made me detour to keep my sanity.
(I do like the way people tipped
their hats at the sight of me.)

At Great Falls were car dealers
with whom I was tempted
to trade in my car but I ended
up getting a car wash instead.
Mosquitoes stuck on the windshield
like black snowflakes finally disappeared.

Through Sweetgrass-Coutts border,
I entered Alberta. Four days of burning fuel
and arguing with my GPS was finally over.
So many lessons learned from this 2400-mile journey
Tomorrow will be treasured truly.
Jamison/06/17/08

Crossing Montana in June 2008...
Couldn't take pix at 95 mph, so just view these sites:
http://www.stephenlehmer.com/Montana%20Hi-Line/Montana%20Hi-Line.html
http://jim-wandering.blogspot.com/2004_06_01_archive.html

Crossing Montana

2009-02-19T22:44:00.004-05:00

17 June 2008 destination: Lethbridge, AB
Most hotels here are fully booked, but I'm glad to find one and start to cook my favorite instant noodle soup after days of driving and munching chicken nuggets and hot dogs.

Earlier this day, it was a roller-coaster drive on Montana Hwy 2 as my loaded car groaned while crawling uphill though I wanted to scream with delight while sliding downhill (as there was no need for gas, that is). My eyes feasted on treeless barren prairies, so much like no-man's land with the silhouette of the distant mighty Rockies.

As teeny weeny towns were few and far between ("lots of elbow room," said one gas station owner) and on this route Louis and Clark had taken, I was a lone traveller, I nervously watched the fuel gauge and my GPS and endured my racing heart and aching mind. "What if I get a flat tire?" "What if my car breaks down?" "What if I run out gas?" "The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want..." I prayed hard time and again although indeed, I was ready to camp with my provision in case AAA couldn't find my location.

Not wanting to dry my tank, my goal was to find gas. "Arriving at destination on right," said my GPS, but I couldn't find anything that looked like a gas station. Ah! It finally occurred to me. It was a little store, its name on a wooden sign erased with time, with ONE pump for the likes of me. Not a soul in sight though: just a post office, a little school, and a few houses. Everything dozing in this summer heat. "Lemme outta here..." I told myself and raced south to Great Falls to get back to civilization.

At Great Falls were numerous car dealers with whom I was tempted to trade in my car, but I ended up getting a car wash instead. Mosquitoes stuck on the windshield like black snowflakes finally disappeared.

By mid-afternoon, I was at Sweetgrass-Coutts border at last and went through without a hitch, through unenthusiastic officers. So tonight I thank the Lord for this safe crossing and slumber on the first night of my own crossroads. Tomorrow will tell through which I'll be passing. I can't feel my way this darkest hour. The new dawn will be my lighthouse. So chiao for now. Zzzzz...
Jamison/06/17/08

Crossing West Virginia

2009-02-19T22:43:00.001-05:00

"Almost heaven, West Virginia..."
No, I won't blame John Denver for these words.
Cruising I-77N today is like watching
the hands of God at work--sculpting
the red, rocky earth and clothing
it with lush greens and perhaps hiding
Adam and Eve somewhere, and smiling...

But now my view is shrouded
as the sky in darkness draped
and a heavy downpour rapes
this burning summer road in rage...
(My country music is interrupted: "Severe thunderstorm warning..."
Hence, I ponder about turning back or stopping
like a coward in a ditch when everyone's charging.)

But it's too late now and no one's stopping or slowing
though on the horizon this ball of darkness is looming...
A furious fury descending, now and then illuminating
with scritch-scratchy, electrifying lightning,
following thunderous claps that shake the earth,
making me grip the wheel hard and prepare for death,
pray for a restful sleep after my last breath.

Then we are all sucked into this blackest power
guided by each other's tail lights that flicker,
aided by frustrated, frantic windshield wipers.
We cower in our cars that are pounded by heavy rain
like boats rocked violently by the surge of a sea in pain.
We listen to the pebbles pounding the sides of our cars
while with this watery road our tires are at war.

How we all survive this inhospitable moment
I can't tell, but as we exit this tunnel of torment
we feel like rising phoenix ready for revenge--
able to conquer this burning summer road in rage.
Jamison/06/17/08

A peace lily for you...

2009-02-09T22:28:00.005-05:00

It's love month once again
and I wish I had Robert Burns' "red, red rose"
for you all.

But there's none that I could afford
as it's recession now, you know.

So here's a peace lily instead
which I've kept alive since winter started.
It might not have the color of your sensuous beauty
but it has that of Heaven's pearly gates
which we all could one day see.

Stay in love, y'all!
Jamison020909

How I write...

2009-02-07T21:34:00.002-05:00

"How do you write?" someone asked.

I'd say lines sing to me at night
as if from a nagging lullabye
that keeps on humming til it's daylight.

I'd say lines sing to me on long rides
when drowned in humanity
tides of thoughts fill my mind.

I'd say lines sing to me when intoxicated
with a strong emotion brought about
by winning or feeling defeated.

I'd say lines sing to me through a sight or sound
like a lei of sampaguita blooms
strung by tiny, inexperienced hands.
At times too tight or loose, too fat or thin,
too short or long, fresh or withering,
or just right... and smells like a virgin.
Jamison020709

Saturday, the 13th: locked out of the car during a winter storm

2008-12-13T22:15:00.016-05:00

you didn't go to work today as your car wouldn't start at -19C.
you didn't know you had to plug it overnight, so you exclaimed:
"oh! that's what the outlets in the parking lots are for! stupid!"
good thing your aunt and uncle could come by
and give you an extension cord and teach you how...

you were elated as you could go to work tomorrow,
but you were worried that your car might not start after work,
after all that rain shower you'd watch from your front desk.
(and obviously there are no outlets at your workplace parking.)

you drove to Canadian Tire before sundown to get a booster pack,
left the engine running and took your keyless entry gadget instead
because you were afraid your car wouldn't start afterwards
and boosters might be out of stock.

again you were elated after getting what you needed,
but when you got to your car, your gadget wouldn't work!
"good heavens!" you exclaimed as your teeth started rattling.
it was -26C! you must've forgotten...

you ran back to the store and decided to make a call.
(your housemate has a key to your room.
she could spot your spare car key on the wall,
take it to you before she leaves for a party soon...)

but "sweet Jesus!" you whispered as you realized
your cellphone wasn't in your pocket!
you must've dropped it in the car!
how unlucky could you get?

you ran to the service department for help,
but "no, we don't unlock cars," you were told.
the gentleman lent you the phone anyway
and you called CAA for the third time this year.

as you were promised a response in two hours,
you thought about taking a cab home instead, but thought:
"no way! nobody will be home when i get there.
and all my keys are in the car i left running!"

you stood outside the entrance so as not to miss the CAA truck.
you prayed for shoppers to come before you froze,
so that you could get in through the automatic door
and out again when they got in. (got what i'm saying?)

you thought about asking strangers for help before closing time:
"i got locked out of my car, and i'm just waiting for help from CAA.
it's been an hour. could i use your cellphone to follow up?"
but then again, people might report you to management:
"an Asian woman is out there, harrassing your shoppers..."

anyway, after an hour of praying and calling yourself names,
help finally came and again you thought yourself blessed
or lucky. you brushed aside crazy thoughts of dying tonight,
during the first winter storm, during YOUR first winter storm.

when you got home, you marked your calendar:
"saturday, the 13th, my own version of chilly fear..."
jamison/12/13/08

it's your birthday

2008-11-10T21:22:00.001-05:00

it's your birthday so you go to church
and tell the Lord, "Thanks a bunch
though there's not much to munch."

it's your birthday so you go to a cheap shop
and treat your old car to oil change, and stop
at Goodwill Store for used winter stuff.

it's your birthday so you end the day
mulling over what's come your way:
the places you've been, the lessons you've learned
your family, and friendship you've earned--
and you realize you've got everything
no one can take away, and you begin to sing...
jamison/11/10/08