They are Woodwards

Carson just got his permanent driver's license.  I am so proud of him, because he worked so hard to get it done.  When we were at the DMV and the man handed Carson his new paper license (because the other one will be mailed to him) I was stunned when I looked at the photo.  I always knew that both Dakota and Carson resemble my dad, but something about this new photo really struck me.  My dad never knew either of them on this earth, but they carry on his looks and traits so much.  Carson's photo is very grainy, and I have better ones of my dad, but for now . . .

Rejection can be awesome

No one likes to discuss rejection.  For a writer, those come in the form of letters or emails.  They are usually a standard form with about two boring lines, such as "Thank you for your interest in ___  journal.  We do not feel your work is right for us at this time."  Everyone gets these. Dozens of them, if you are submitting regularly like me.  Over the years, I have seen a few variations, and received a few personal notes. However, kudos to a little publication in New Hampshire called "Outlook Springs!"  Their poetry editor (or poetry warlock, as he calls himself) Jayce Russell, sent me the best rejection email I have ever received.  He did explain that they are not using my poem for this issue, and the reason why.  He described in detail the things he liked about my poem and how he would like to see more of my work.  It's a rare treat when a busy editor will spend that amount of time reading my work, and then send such a thoughtful and helpful personal email.  Who would have ever thought it?  For the first time ever, a rejection letter made my day!

No one can grow up anymore!

Micah's voice is changing.  It's changing.  He's my youngest.  The only one who can answer the phone with that young sounding voice.  Those days are numbered.

Carson is getting his driver's license.  He works.  He likes girls.  He likes girls very much.  He pointed out a house to me a few days ago and said,  "I know who lives there. They have a daughter my age."  I laughed and said, "I bet you know every girl your age for a mile around our house."  To which he replied with a grin, "Three miles."

Dakota is already grown.  I've faced that already.

This just has to slow down somehow.  Sigh.

For my boys . . .always

I was up late last night, writing and thinking about life and love and all things tender.  I thought most of all about how my mother's strength survives with me today, and then came these thoughts.

Dakota, Carson, and Micah,

When I was younger, I had always heard people talk about how their mothers, in their old age, at the end of their lives, had given them "death bed advice."  Some would say their dying wishes, ask special things of their children.  My mother did not do that.  I was far from perfect at that time in my life.  I had two young children, was not active in church, and struggled with my marriage.  Yet, my mother's only concern in her last days was to tell me how much she loved me a few more times.  She told me that she had no regrets, that I was the greatest joy of her life.  She asked nothing of me.  She extended her unconditional love for me, her pride in me, and expressed how she loved the gift of the close relationship we shared.

My sons, I hope to live a long life, and see my grandchildren.  In my older years, despite the state of my health or my mind, I hope you will know that you are my everything.  That I celebrate your individuality, personalities, gifts, and talents.  Each decision that I have made in this life, since the days you were born, has been made with your best interests and happiness in mind.  Never do I wish that any of you were different. You are exactly who God made you to be, even with some struggles.  We all have those.  You are clearly my greatest joys.  Being a mom is my favorite thing.  You are more important than all the dreams that ever slipped through my fingers.  Whatever happens in the next world, I pray that we will be together.  There could be no Heaven for me, without the three of you.  I love you always.

                                                                                 Love,
                                                                                      Mom

Father's Day weekend

I miss my father today, like every other day.  23 years following his death, I already understand that will not ever change.

I do have a wonderful man in my life, who is good to me every single day.  Blended families are difficult, to say the least, but we are doing our best.  Paul is good to my boys, and tries hard to teach them things that will help them in life.

On Saturday, we surprised Paul with a history tour at Camp Floyd and then dinner at "Porter's Place."  Jayne and Dillon came along.  It was so much fun!

Nerdish ones like me

My son Micah and I had an interesting conversation, which revolved around him wondering if I want to be a famous poet.  Famous?  Hum.  Not likely.  Accomplished, that's a goal.  Recognizably famous, slim chance.

A couple of weeks ago, a very ordinary looking man walked into my office to rent a soil auger, for the purpose of adding iron to the soil around his tree.  No one else payed any attention as I helped him fill out his rental form.  However, I knew this man was Lance Larsen.  He had helped me by critiquing some of my work a few years ago.  He has even given me books and signed his own books for me.  With a little prompting, he remembered me, and happily talked with me about poetry.  He asked what I am doing, if I have any publications coming out.  We discussed his favorable opinion of the magazine I am about to be published in.  He said he still has my chapbook.  And I was thrilled!  He laughed about seeing me again, by chance, in my office, and went on his way with a big smile.  He was not gone long until I said to anyone within earshot, "Do you guys know who that was? That was Lance Larsen, Utah State Poet Laureate!!" They were impressed, but not as excited as me.  No one could subdue my happiness for the rest of the day. I was floating on my own little cloud.

Back to my son's question. There are many contemporary poets who have been very successful, and deserve to be famous.  And to a certain number of us, they certainly are.  I have a collection of signed poetry books. Along with my photos, letters, and handmade gifts from my children, they are some of my most treasured possessions.  I don't mind bragging that I have met some gifted writers.  However, I doubt any of those wonderful people are consistently bothered for an autograph in restaurants.  In fact, they are probably surprised when they are recognized at all.  They can take heart, there will always be someone like me, who will recognize a somewhat blue collar looking guy in jeans as the brilliant rock star he really is!!

Some grief and heartbreak

I've been struggling for the past week.  Sometimes we don't know how precious history is until it's gone. Last Sunday, I found out that my family movies (which I had never taken the time to put on DVD) had been donated to Tags, along with some other old VHS tapes.  We tried everything to find them, but two days later I had to accept that I would not see them again.  They were all my movies of my boys as newborns, ultrasounds, birthdays, and home made movies.  Also in the bunch was my only movie of my mother.  She was at our house for Dakota's 5th birthday, a year before she passed away.  I will miss being able to hear her voice again.

I cried and cried.  I felt like I would never feel better.  I couldn't sleep. I tossed and turned, seeing those cute movies of my babies and toddlers in my head each time I closed my eyes.  I kept telling myself that others have lost all of their memories in fires and natural disasters.  Still, my heart aches for those precious memories.  It has felt like such a loss to me.  I remain grateful for all that I have and will try to do a better job of preserving the photos and keepsakes I have left.