My Favorite Foreign Language by David Kirby

My Favorite Foreign Language


"What's your favorite foreign language?" asks the cabbie,
and when I ask why, he says he knows "butterfly"
in 241 of them, so I say, "Okay, French!" and he says,

"Papillon!" and I say, "German!" and he says, "Schmetterling!"
and I'm running out of languages I know, so I say,
"Uh, Wolof!" because I'm reading a short story

where a woman speaks Wolof, and he says something in Wolof,
and the professor-y part of me wants
to say, You shouldn't call them foreign languages, you know,

because that means there's only one real language, but
I'd be saying that to him in our common
tongue, so it really wouldn't make sense unless I were chiding

him in, say, Wolof, a language in which he knows only
one word and I none. What's the best country?
Heaven, probably: as everyone knows, the cooks are French,

the mechanics German, the police English, lovers Italian,
and it's all organized by the Swiss, whereas
in Hell, the cooks are English, mechanics French, police

Germans, lovers Swiss, and everything is organized by the Italians,
which leaves out the Spanish,
though perhaps not, for the ancients say a man should speak

French to his friends because of its vivacity,
Italian to his mistress for its sweetness,
German to his enemies because it is forceful, and Spanish

to his God, for it is the most majestic of languages.
Hola, Señor! Okay if I put my suitcase
over here? Thank you for having me! Yes, I would

like to hear what they're saying in the other place, like "Dictators
over here" and "Corporate polluters
in this area" and "Aw, come on—another boring poet?"

Tell Me Thursday - 7 years ago

Yesterday's picture was of my 2 boys -- 7 years ago.  Only 18 months apart, they have been buddies since Nate's birth.

When they were this small, I really couldn't imagine them at 9 & 11.  And, now that they're 9 & 11, I'm having a hard time remembering them this small.

Toddlers were easy.  I know we're in for a ride the next 10 years. Things have been rocky the last few days here, so I thought a picture of my sweet, lovable boys was just what I needed to see yesterday.  Today, I'm back to the disciplinarian.

The Unfortunate Traveler by Billy Collins

Continuing on the theme of a poem a day for National Poetry Month!

Sometimes, the most amazing part of poetry is hearing it aloud.  This is a recording of Billy Collins (former US Poet Laureate) reading his poem, "The Unfortunate Traveler."

Disney on Ice Discount for Phoenix in April

A couple weeks ago, I shared the great discount code for the Disney On Ice celebrates 100 Years of Magic show playing next week at the Phoenix US Airways Center.  (4 tickets for $44 with the code NALA at Ticketmaster.com)


The code is good for Friday, April 13th at the 10:30am and 7:30pm shows, Saturday, April 14th  at the 7:30pm show, and Sunday, April 15th at the 1:30pm and 5:30pm shows. (excluding Front Row and VIP seating). A minimum of 4 tickets is required; additional tickets can be purchased at $11 each. No double discounts. Service charges, handling and facility fees may apply.


If you can't get the code to work at Ticketmaster, or if you would like to purchase your tickets directly from the box office, I have a flyer I can send you with the discount information.  Please email me at patchofsunshine@gmail.com and I'll email the flyer back to you ASAP.

We are really looking forward to enjoying the show next week, and I can't wait to tell you all about it!

*Disclosure: I am a Feld Family Ambassador, and in exchange for my time and efforts in attending shows and reporting my opinion within this blog, as well as keeping you advised of the latest discount offers, Feld Entertainment has provided me with complimentary tickets to Feld shows and opportunities to attend private Feld pre-Show events. Even though I receive these benefits, I always give an opinion that is 100% mine.*

Wordless Wednesday - 7 years ago

Faults by Sara Teasdale

They came to tell your faults to me,
They named them over one by one;
I laughed aloud when they were done,
I knew them all so well before,—
Oh, they were blind, too blind to see
Your faults had made me love you more.

Messy Room by Shel Silverstein

This poem is especially for my children . . . and, well, okay even me some days!

Messy Room by Shel Silverstein

Whosever room this is should be ashamed!
His underwear is hanging on the lamp.
His raincoat is there in the overstuffed chair,
And the chair is becoming quite mucky and damp.
His workbook is wedged in the window,
His sweater's been thrown on the floor.
His scarf and one ski are beneath the TV,
And his pants have been carelessly hung on the door.
His books are all jammed in the closet,
His vest has been left in the hall.
A lizard named Ed is asleep in his bed,
And his smelly old sock has been stuck to the wall.
Whosever room this is should be ashamed!
Donald or Robert or Willie or--
Huh? You say it's mine? Oh, dear,
I knew it looked familiar!

International Children's Book Day

Today is International Children's Book Day.  The only way to celebrate is to share some favorite children's books!

I can remember lining up my collection of Little Golden Books when I was a kid, and playing library. I especially loved anything illustrated by Eloise Wilkin.

I loved reading Mr. Pudgins to my younger sister & brother.  Unfortunately, it is out of print.

I read aloud to the kids quite a bit.  (Ok, I used to read more when the boys were younger - but I still try to make it a regular part of our week.)  Over the years, some of our favorites have been:

Little House series
The Borrowers series
The The Indian in the Cupboard series

hmmm, and I wonder why Colin likes reading series so much?

We're currently reading the The Chronicles of Narnia -- just started Prince Caspian.

Nate just told me his favorite kids' book is Caps for Sale.

Colin named a few more series, but then came up with the Curious George books. He loved listening to those books over and over again!

And Lydia is currently loving anything with Kipper the Dog.

I'm sure as soon as I hit post, I will remember more and so will the kids.  OH!  Can't forget 17 Kings And 42 Elephants.  And Hug!  And Hush! A Thai Lullaby.  And . . . well . . . I could probably be here all night if I don't stop and just post.

What are some of your favorites?

Myself and Mine. by Walt Whitman

In honor of National Poetry Month, I'm trying to post a poem a day. Enjoy!

Myself and Mine. by Walt Whitman

MYSELF and mine gymnastic ever,
To stand the cold or heat—to take good aim with a gun—to sail a boat—to
manage
horses—to beget superb children,
To speak readily and clearly—to feel at home among common people,
And to hold our own in terrible positions, on land and sea.

Not for an embroiderer;
(There will always be plenty of embroiderers—I welcome them also;)
But for the fibre of things, and for inherent men and women.

Not to chisel ornaments,
But to chisel with free stroke the heads and limbs of plenteous Supreme Gods, that The
States
may realize them, walking and talking.

Let me have my own way;
Let others promulge the laws—I will make no account of the laws;
Let others praise eminent men and hold up peace—I hold up agitation and conflict;
I praise no eminent man—I rebuke to his face the one that was thought most worthy.

(Who are you? you mean devil! And what are you secretly guilty of, all your life?
Will you turn aside all your life? Will you grub and chatter all your life?)

(And who are you—blabbing by rote, years, pages, languages, reminiscences,
Unwitting to-day that you do not know how to speak a single word?)

Let others finish specimens—I never finish specimens;
I shower them by exhaustless laws, as Nature does, fresh and modern continually.

I give nothing as duties;
What others give as duties, I give as living impulses;
(Shall I give the heart’s action as a duty?)

Let others dispose of questions—I dispose of nothing—I arouse unanswerable
questions;

Who are they I see and touch, and what about them?
What about these likes of myself, that draw me so close by tender directions and
indirections?

I call to the world to distrust the accounts of my friends, but listen to my
enemies—as I
myself do;
I charge you, too, forever, reject those who would expound me—for I cannot expound
myself;

I charge that there be no theory or school founded out of me;
I charge you to leave all free, as I have left all free.

After me, vista!
O, I see life is not short, but immeasurably long;
I henceforth tread the world, chaste, temperate, an early riser, a steady grower,
Every hour the semen of centuries—and still of centuries.

I will follow up these continual lessons of the air, water, earth;
I perceive I have no time to lose.

Planetarium by Adrienne Rich

April is National Poetry Month.  I think poetry is too often ignored, so this month I want to do my part.  I plan to post a poem a day.  No special theme -- just poems that speak to me somehow.

For the first day of April, I chose Planetarium by Adrienne Rich.  She is an amazing poet who recently died of complications of rheumatoid arthritis.

Planetarium
BY ADRIENNE RICH

Thinking of Caroline Herschel (1750—1848)
astronomer, sister of William; and others.

A woman in the shape of a monster   

a monster in the shape of a woman   

the skies are full of them

a woman      ‘in the snow

among the Clocks and instruments   

or measuring the ground with poles’

in her 98 years to discover   

8 comets

she whom the moon ruled   

like us

levitating into the night sky   

riding the polished lenses

Galaxies of women, there

doing penance for impetuousness   

ribs chilled   

in those spaces    of the mind

An eye,

          ‘virile, precise and absolutely certain’

          from the mad webs of Uranusborg

                                                            encountering the NOVA   

every impulse of light exploding

from the core

as life flies out of us

             Tycho whispering at last

             ‘Let me not seem to have lived in vain’

What we see, we see   

and seeing is changing

the light that shrivels a mountain   

and leaves a man alive

Heartbeat of the pulsar

heart sweating through my body

The radio impulse   

pouring in from Taurus

         I am bombarded yet         I stand

I have been standing all my life in the   

direct path of a battery of signals

the most accurately transmitted most   

untranslatable language in the universe

I am a galactic cloud so deep      so invo-

luted that a light wave could take 15   

years to travel through me       And has   

taken      I am an instrument in the shape   

of a woman trying to translate pulsations   

into images    for the relief of the body   

and the reconstruction of the mind.

Source: The Fact of a Doorframe: Selected Poems 1950-2001 (W. W. Norton and Company Inc., 2002)