A Midwinter's Mantra

Midwinter!
And I welcome its coming
for I now know that this is the
Midwinter of my life
when the Sun has sunk as low as
he can get
And can go no lower.

Now all must change;
all must be made new.
I will no longer be that man
sinking into darkness,
but I will feel the new heat of my own rising.
Everyday I will commit to burning
brighter and brighter.

Ah, I will become a pirate and seize what I will!
let no man say it is not mine to take!
for I will take it and
make it mine or die trying,
and this shall be
my new mantra as I journey
into Summer.

Peter the Pirate: Christmas on the Moon

This story is in audio only. Grab a cup of tea and sit with a comforter, watch the snow falling outside, and plan to listen to a story in ballad form for about an hour. It is the third part of the Peter the Pirate St. Nicholas stories. I wrote these over the years as apart of our family's St. Nicholas Day celebrations.

In the first story, Peter the Pirate and the Christmas ship, St. Nicholas comes to Peter's Island and takes Peter away on an adventure on the Christmas ship. The Ship is a magic ship, and like magic ships in other stories, it can fly, not just in the air, but across celestial seas. It is in this first story that we first meet the children who man the crew of the Christmas ship

In the second story, Peter the Pirate and Christmas Island, we find out that these children come from a cursed land called Christmas Island that is frozen in time at one minute until 12 on Christmas Eve so that Christmas can never come! The Children were rescued by St. Nicholas on the Christmas ship, but the Saint, is unable to remove the curse. In this story, Peter travels to that land and finds a way to remove the curse on that Island. The children are finally returned to their parents and Christmas comes to Christmas Island at long last. It became a tradition then that the Children from Christmas Island should crew the Christmas ship thereafter. This third story takes place many, many years later.

For music, I have used clips from various songs by Blackmore's Night. (Awsome music! I hope you check them out.)

Kingstontown

My daughter recently visited her grandparents (my mom and dad) who gave her a bunch of photos that my mom took when she was little. She scanned them and sent them to me. My appologies to my son who appears in only two of the pictures here. If it is of any consolation to him, I have to say that the same thing happened to me. My older sister got all the press since she was the first born, so there are more photos of her than of me in my mother's scrap books and piles of photos.

One of the nice things about cyperspace and digital photos is that it frees room in the closets. I regard these videos as a kind of scrapbooking and journal keeping without all the bulk. I love my blog because I can't lose anything on it and the photos never grow dull or get beat up. It is also cool because I can share my life with people all over the world that I know and love.

Regarding the music in this video, I enjoy Harry Belafonte's singing. Kingstontown kind of conveys the feeling I have of being so far away during this season. The ship, the Rose also called the Surprise is from the movie Master and Commander the Far Side of the world, based on the books by Patrick O'Brian.

Thanksgiving Dinner.

I am entering a second holiday season away from my family. This is the hardest time of all to be away from them, but I am not about to let the season go by unmarked or with indifference like last year. Last year I had just arrived and was hoping that the expats who were here would have something organized that I could participate in. I was too fresh, too new and too poor to put much of anything together. This year I did my best to put a dinner together and to do it right. I intend to keep the holidays and the civilization that they represent to me. I was a bit busy and didn't get too many pictures, but I thought I would send a couple.

Reflection for the first Sunday of Advent.

That HE should come into our poverty and hopelessness—when we are in the dark of our mid-winter; when the moody sun becomes broody and miserly at a time when we are most in want of his light—that he should come now, of all times, is matter to be pondered. How shall we care for him in our poverty? Isn’t it better that he comes into the house of kings? Isn’t it better that he be educated in the best schools? Would it not serve the world for him to be a prince among men, high, proud, and powerful among the masses? What have we to offer him? What but love? And what is that against the raging of nations and the weight of history? What is love when we can barely feed him, clothe him and hardly keep a roof over him? What of love when we must watch him struggle under the oppression of the rich and the powerful as we have done? And yet, we do. Somehow we do. We love this baby, crying to be fed, like any other baby. We love him, find food somewhere for him, clothe him, house him and teach him. He grows up with the masses, dirty and running barefoot through the smelly, dusty, crowded streets. We love him. That is all we have. But how will the world be better for this?

Bicycles on the Corniche

Sometimes, the stress of the week is too much and I have to get out. It so happened that a handful of my friends here were getting together to go for a bike ride along the Corniche in Abu Dhabi on a Thursday night. Thursday nights are like Friday nights in the United States, people are done with the work week, are out and about, and in a good mood. The cost of renting a bike is 20 dirhams for the hour (about $5) so I decided it wouldn't break me to get out and go with them to enjoy the good weather and have a pleasant chat and a bit of fun and, frankly, I needed the exercize. It has been well over a year since I'd been on a bike.

Seasons

It is after the storm ,
when the hot
concrete of the sidewalks
sends up steam and the starlings
feast on the worms, that I
live. The clouds have
a tint of green
and my lawn, my trees, my skin
my dog, my children, my house
and all that is me
is verdant in their light.

It is the white ash
that is the first to
turn the color of
fire and embers and finally
to a deep peach, then
the maple’s glory starts exploding:
preaching of the beauty there is
in death with the eloquence
and the grace of
slow motion fireworks--a yellow
that changes my mood as I walk
down my street to the large confetti
coming down as if I were a hero
home from war.

It is waking up to the
silent, satisfying, fresh
deep, deep, downy layers
of sparkling snow, on my yard,
my bushes, my trees,
drifting across my driveway
curling around
the eves of my house where I
live, cozy in the warmth of
quilts and love. The rising sun
casts its Midas touch on the face
of my wife who is looking out
on a golden world.

It is in the red bud that
she begins her dance without
motion as she sends the purple
lace winding among the beaches
and oaks. She makes me stir. She calls to
the dogwood, and the lilac that
it is time to grace the
world with new colors.
She smells of fresh earth, mushrooms,
the decay of leaves, and
lily of the valley. In the
mornings she watches me in
the multitudes of
of droplets of dew
like a thousand cats’ eyes
on every spider’s web,
leaf, and blade of grass.
She does not linger:
brevity is intensity,
intensity is passion.
If you would take her,
take her now.

Party at Arak

There are times when I feel like I'm in the old television series, MASH. Instead of being surgeons in Korea, we are ESL teachers in the Emirates, but we are still doing a tour of duty over seas far away from our families. I'm more of a Honeycut (married with kids), than a Hawkeye (single but cynical). I fret and worry about what I'm missing out of at home, I have anxiety about the old roof on our house and the walnut tree's limbs not being trimmed, and how is that old double glider holding up? Those who have pets will also understand how much I miss my dark sheltie, Sammy. Ah, she's a beautiful creature, friendly but not fawning and the obedience of a sheep dog is deeply bred into her. But I won't bore you with tales of my dog. I just miss it all. So, being far away from friends, family and loved ones makes getting together and connecting with all the people here pretty important.

At the ESL program in our University, everyone is a temporary worker. People come and go. That's because there really isn't much incentive to stay long term. While the salary isn't bad, there are many places here that offer quite a bit more. There are no raises here, no retirement, only the minimum that is legal for health insurance is offered, no educational fee compensation, no married housing--and that's a big factor. People who have no commitment and only themselves to care for are free to leave at anytime and often "pull a runner"when they can't stand it any more. So when the going gets tough, the tough start going, as in leaving.

I'm afraid I've mentioned a lot of negative factors here. There is a lot I also like about working here. I love my students. The Emirati men are the best group of men I have ever met. I find them gracious, charming, and generous. When I first started teaching there, I was a bit put off by behaviours that I thought were rude, such as answering cell phones in class, talking while other students were presenting or getting up and walking out of class at odd times. But I have started to realize that this is a cultural phenomena, that rudeness is not intended, and the truth is that they are very respectful of the teacher according to the rules of their culture. In fact, respect for the teacher is a huge value. I am treated like a royal.

I also like my fellow teachers. Expat ESL teachers here come from all over the world and I have loved the cultural exchange that goes with it. I am so rich for knowing St. Joseph, from Kenya, Kyle from Texas, Jo Jo and Evans from Cameroon, Keveen was from France, people from, Canada, Syria, Lebanon, Egypt, South Africa, Australia, Ireland, England, and everywhere in the world. It is so cool to go to parties like this one and have fun. It is a relief from the stress, isolation, and alienation that can happen while living for a long period of time in a country that is not one's own.

I've taken a long time to express my gratitude to the people who put these parties together. They are important.