Cardiology:
How can we solve life's mysteries
if we never make a start
to attempt investigation
into matters of the heart?
There's so much we don't understand
and so much we must forgive
in the hearts of those around us
through the lifetimes that we live.
Likewise we'll make apologies
on this journey here below
as we're always navigating
into waters we don't know.
We gauge feelings swirling 'round us
and emotions of our own
while we're trying to descipher
what is sensed but never shown -
like coral reefs that lie beneath
stormy oceans of the heart
where no daring cartographer
has been brave enough to chart.
However vast our knowledge is
of this planet or deep space,
the heart remains a mystery -
an obscure and complex place.
Though science gives us formulas
to determine speed and mass
we continue to ask questions
not addressed in any class.
We'll never learn to calculate
even just the smallest part
of the infinite equation
that defines the human heart.
(By Sharon Flood Kasenberg - March 2007)
Love is a mystery. Like Joni Mitchell, I've experienced both sides of love - the pain that comes from unrequited love, and the joy of love that's returned. I've observed even more about love - seen it used manipulatively - given capriciously and withdrawn in pique. I've seen relationships end that I thought would endure forever, and seen couples survive who I thought were doomed before they began. Through it all I've learned that love always has lessons to teach us, no matter how old or experienced we may think we are.
I've come to the conclusion that finding love is fortunate, and keeping it alive is miraculous. Yesterday I celebrated my 25th Wedding Anniversary. One of my friends commented that it was good to see somebody manage to make a marriage last this long, and now that I've been married for a quarter of a century I think I'm qualified to say that marriage isn't easy. Our early years were the hardest, since we had to learn to adjust to life with each other, often in poverty, and then with two babies that arrived in rapid succession. We got used to each other - learned to adapt to each others' foibles and compensate for each others' weaknesses - but at no point did it become effortless. We didn't really expect it to, and maybe that's why we've lasted.
Love needs to be fed - and it's voracious. I think a lot of people assume that as passion settles the relationship can survive on a subsistence diet, when in reality that's the point at which love needs the most nourishment. Both parties need to feed the relationship so that both are fed. Each party will get back what they put in if they are equally committed to making the necessary effort. Sadly, that isn't always the case. It can be far too easy to grow careless with another person's heart.
Many people glamorize the concept of love, seeing it as an ongoing parade of showy speeches, bouquets of roses and passionate embraces when it actually looks a whole lot more like helping with dishes, putting out the garbage and rubbing smelly feet. Love is made up of arguments and negotiations and seemingly insignificant kindnesses all rolled into a decidedly mundane ball. Love is appreciating what you've got and overlooking what shouldn't matter. Love is learning how to trust completely, and knowing when to check your ego at the door and be humble enough to accept a bit of criticism.
I'm grateful that I've enjoyed the miracle of lasting love. It's something I've learned to never take for granted. I hope that someday my sons will be as blessed in their marriages as Todd and I have been in ours. I hope that we've shown them not just how love can be, but how it should be.
Love Can:
Love can be used to conquer,
or better yet to soothe -
can calm a raging tempest
or make a rough road smooth.
Love isn't a condition,
it is an attitude -
a voluntary effort
we make with gratitude.
It is the stuff of romance -
foundation for our dreams;
in rawest, purest essence
much more than what it seems.
Love has the strength to uplift,
but still it can destroy -
can seed wanton destruction
or the sublimest joy.
In countless variations
it's manifest through years -
agony and ecstasy
expressed in smiles and tears.
It can be irrational
to love without return -
confounded by rejection,
our hollow hearts still yearn.
While I can't prove this theory
I always have supposed
that hearts are often empty
because they are kept closed.
Conversely when we give love
the more love we attract -
although this math makes no sense,
it seems to be a fact.
From unexpected sources
it will accumulate
and grow in intensity
as we reciprocate.
Love wields unearthly power -
more than most can conceive;
Love comforts deepest sorrows
when in it we believe.
(By Sharon Flood Kasenberg - Sept. 2007)
Monday, 26 August 2013
Monday, 12 August 2013
The Amazingly Incredible and Sometimes Regretable Power of Words By Sharon Flood Kasenberg - August 12, 2013
Words:
Give me the words
to write a poem -
it's such a small request.
Just give me words
and I will use them -
I will do my best.
Give me the words
to show compassion -
put me to the test.
Just give me words
and I will use them.
Love will do the rest.
Give me the words
to calm my spirit -
silence my unrest.
A few small words
to bless and comfort
when I am distressed.
I pray for words
I know their power -
they are my daily quest.
Thank-you for words
that I am given -
through these words I'm blessed.
(By Sharon Flood Kasenberg - April '07)
Nothing makes you more appreciative for the words you find than those times when you just can't find the words at all.
This past week I've been struggling to find words. I've felt an urge to write on a particular subject, but every time I sit down and make an attempt I just can't seem to get where I want to. What I've written seems forced and trite. I feel frustrated, but that's alright. I know from past experience that when the right words come to me it will be a serendipitous experience - inspiration will hit and words will flow.
As I've pondered my writer's block of late I've thought a lot about the power of words. I've been really really thankful for those times when words came to me easily - when the poetry and prose flowed from my brain so quickly that I rushed to find pen and paper before those words were lost.
I love words, and of that love a healthy respect has been born. There have been many times in my life when I badly wanted to have the right words to say - soothing words, loving words - words that went beyond being merely "appropriate". When those words managed to cross my tongue I knew they were exactly right, and they benefited both the speaker and the listener. Sadly, I didn't always "find" those words. Far too often I stuttered and stammered. The words that came out were muddled and altogether clumsy and wrong.
Too many times to count over the years I've used words in the worst ways possible - in anger, in criticism and in haste. I've tossed out words carelessly and wanted to snatch them back, but once spoken they couldn't be unsaid. I've likewise had words hurled at me like molotov cocktails - igniting flaming responses and doing maximum damage to anyone unfortunate enough to be in the vicinity; words that lodged like shrapnel in the soul. These words injured and caused lasting pain.
I've written a lot of poems that talk about the power of words and the importance of fully engaging the brain before the mouth, but this one is my favorite.
Eating My Words (By Sharon Flood Kasenberg - August '09)
I never really want to sup
on words spoken in haste -
for careless phrases offered up
are bitter to the taste.
Those things I didn't mean to say
when uttered without care -
return again another way
as most unsavory fare.
They're bound to cross my lips once more,
and dine on them I must -
'though swallowing them is a chore -
they go down dry as dust.
Unappetizing it may be
but truly I have earned
the feast that's spread in front of me
of syllables that burned.
So as I sit again to feed
on words I'm forced to eat -
I face this fact - it seems I need
to speak some words more sweet!
Give me the words
to write a poem -
it's such a small request.
Just give me words
and I will use them -
I will do my best.
Give me the words
to show compassion -
put me to the test.
Just give me words
and I will use them.
Love will do the rest.
Give me the words
to calm my spirit -
silence my unrest.
A few small words
to bless and comfort
when I am distressed.
I pray for words
I know their power -
they are my daily quest.
Thank-you for words
that I am given -
through these words I'm blessed.
(By Sharon Flood Kasenberg - April '07)
Nothing makes you more appreciative for the words you find than those times when you just can't find the words at all.
This past week I've been struggling to find words. I've felt an urge to write on a particular subject, but every time I sit down and make an attempt I just can't seem to get where I want to. What I've written seems forced and trite. I feel frustrated, but that's alright. I know from past experience that when the right words come to me it will be a serendipitous experience - inspiration will hit and words will flow.
As I've pondered my writer's block of late I've thought a lot about the power of words. I've been really really thankful for those times when words came to me easily - when the poetry and prose flowed from my brain so quickly that I rushed to find pen and paper before those words were lost.
I love words, and of that love a healthy respect has been born. There have been many times in my life when I badly wanted to have the right words to say - soothing words, loving words - words that went beyond being merely "appropriate". When those words managed to cross my tongue I knew they were exactly right, and they benefited both the speaker and the listener. Sadly, I didn't always "find" those words. Far too often I stuttered and stammered. The words that came out were muddled and altogether clumsy and wrong.
Too many times to count over the years I've used words in the worst ways possible - in anger, in criticism and in haste. I've tossed out words carelessly and wanted to snatch them back, but once spoken they couldn't be unsaid. I've likewise had words hurled at me like molotov cocktails - igniting flaming responses and doing maximum damage to anyone unfortunate enough to be in the vicinity; words that lodged like shrapnel in the soul. These words injured and caused lasting pain.
I've written a lot of poems that talk about the power of words and the importance of fully engaging the brain before the mouth, but this one is my favorite.
Eating My Words (By Sharon Flood Kasenberg - August '09)
I never really want to sup
on words spoken in haste -
for careless phrases offered up
are bitter to the taste.
Those things I didn't mean to say
when uttered without care -
return again another way
as most unsavory fare.
They're bound to cross my lips once more,
and dine on them I must -
'though swallowing them is a chore -
they go down dry as dust.
Unappetizing it may be
but truly I have earned
the feast that's spread in front of me
of syllables that burned.
So as I sit again to feed
on words I'm forced to eat -
I face this fact - it seems I need
to speak some words more sweet!
Thursday, 25 July 2013
Behold the Weed! By Sharon Flood Kasenberg
When we moved into this house almost ten years ago I found myself excited about a yard, for the first time ever. Our house sits on a circle, and our backyard is shallow but wide. The yard slopes to the rear, and so we have twelve foot ceilings in the basement and full walk outs from the basement into a strange little walled patio area with a corner fireplace. All along the back fence were perennial beds, and placed at the center point of the back fence was a fountain. Sounds nice, right? It looked nice too, but the first spring we lived here it became obvious that this yard had its deficiencies. The fireplace area was a bit crumbly and probably not safe to use, although it still looked nice. The fountain didn't work. The perennials spread like weeds, and the WEEDS really spread like weeds.
For eight years I added plants and moved plants and thinned out plants. And I weeded - endlessly. Some years it looked pretty nice out there, but other years I chose plants that didn't work, or I didn't water enough or the weeds just grew faster than I could pull them up. Last year the yard looked dismal. I was in and out of town all summer long and Todd was too busy to pull weeds. We had a serious summer drought, and the lawn and the plants all turned brown. Only the cinch bugs and the weeds flourished. We decided it was time to take action and reconfigure the backyard completely - less lawn, more plants (and plants of our choosing!), and to our way of thinking less watering and weeding.
The new yard is spectacular, but we're learning that it is as much work as it ever was. In fact, I think it's more work. I've never weeded as much in my life as I have this past month. We have bylaws in this town, and the landscapers couldn't spray before they laid down all that fresh sod and mulch, so anything with roots deeper than the six or eight inches they removed when they dug up the old lawn and beds remained. We see fewer dandelions and prickly things, but somewhere along the line someone planted some sort of Morning Glory-type plant that creeps along underground (from roots somewhere in China) and sends out shoots all over the fresh new sod and up through mulch that is a foot deep in places. The tenacity of this stuff astounds me. I routinely spend an hour out there yanking up every bit that I see, only to go outside the next day to find fresh vines of four or five inches. I pull every bit in sight, and when I get up to go inside I find more. I could almost swear it grows before my eyes, and that if I left it alone it would bury everything within a week!
Today while I was weeding I thought about weeds, and how they relate to life.
First of all, remember how Todd and I had dreams of less work in the new yard? The truth is, I'm not good at doing nothing - especially when I'm outdoors. So while I may like the idea of lazing in our lovely yard, I can't sit for more than fifteen minutes without wanting to jump up and yank up a few weeds or deadhead my spent flowers. I like knowing that I'm keeping the garden beautiful. We may dream of weed-free gardens and trouble-free lives, but those "weeds" and trials give us purpose. We may enjoy our leisure, but we need to feel useful.
Then, there's the way that "weeds" are so often a metaphor for things we don't want in our lives. They are the bad habits that seem so deeply rooted that they seem to grow back faster for all of our efforts to uproot them. They are like the negative relationships in our lives that we have trouble extricating ourselves from, and like the negative messages we hear and heed daily - even though they choke our growth as surely as that "mourning inglorious" stuff is choking the roots of my lavender.
Without a doubt, many of us seem to spend a disproportionate amount of our lives "weeding" - and sadly it is a necessity. It is unfair that the talents we have and the positive traits we'd like to nurture require so much effort to establish "roots", while those negative traits and influences in our lives live on no matter how often we douse them in vinegar (like those ever-present weeds in the lawn) - but it's a sad reality that we all need to live with. The "garden of life" requires constant weeding and watering to bear fruit.
Still, if we look at weeds in terms of their sheer stubborn "sticktoitiveness" we have to afford them some grudging admiration. If I was more "weed-like" I certainly would have more accomplishments and skills to my credit. I mean, those weeds just plain don't listen when I tell them where they shouldn't grow! If my talents were anything like that persistent they'd thrive no matter how much discouragement they felt.
Thus, in this post I pay homage to the lowly weed - bane of my existence, but still to be admired.
Behold the Weed! (By Sharon Flood Kasenberg - June 2, 2007)
A weed's a plant that grows where it should not,
and uninvited, propagates - a lot!
It roots itself with great tenacity -
determined to stay where it shouldn't be.
But what is planted, on the other hand,
puts rather timid roots into the land -
and although chosen for a certain spot,
is temperamental and seems prone to rot.
Thus I have come to grudgingly admire
a myriad of plants I don't desire.
They're certainly unwanted, but hold fast -
and seed themselves so they'll forever last.
It seems our good intentions would succeed -
if we were as committed as the weed!
For eight years I added plants and moved plants and thinned out plants. And I weeded - endlessly. Some years it looked pretty nice out there, but other years I chose plants that didn't work, or I didn't water enough or the weeds just grew faster than I could pull them up. Last year the yard looked dismal. I was in and out of town all summer long and Todd was too busy to pull weeds. We had a serious summer drought, and the lawn and the plants all turned brown. Only the cinch bugs and the weeds flourished. We decided it was time to take action and reconfigure the backyard completely - less lawn, more plants (and plants of our choosing!), and to our way of thinking less watering and weeding.
The new yard is spectacular, but we're learning that it is as much work as it ever was. In fact, I think it's more work. I've never weeded as much in my life as I have this past month. We have bylaws in this town, and the landscapers couldn't spray before they laid down all that fresh sod and mulch, so anything with roots deeper than the six or eight inches they removed when they dug up the old lawn and beds remained. We see fewer dandelions and prickly things, but somewhere along the line someone planted some sort of Morning Glory-type plant that creeps along underground (from roots somewhere in China) and sends out shoots all over the fresh new sod and up through mulch that is a foot deep in places. The tenacity of this stuff astounds me. I routinely spend an hour out there yanking up every bit that I see, only to go outside the next day to find fresh vines of four or five inches. I pull every bit in sight, and when I get up to go inside I find more. I could almost swear it grows before my eyes, and that if I left it alone it would bury everything within a week!
Today while I was weeding I thought about weeds, and how they relate to life.
First of all, remember how Todd and I had dreams of less work in the new yard? The truth is, I'm not good at doing nothing - especially when I'm outdoors. So while I may like the idea of lazing in our lovely yard, I can't sit for more than fifteen minutes without wanting to jump up and yank up a few weeds or deadhead my spent flowers. I like knowing that I'm keeping the garden beautiful. We may dream of weed-free gardens and trouble-free lives, but those "weeds" and trials give us purpose. We may enjoy our leisure, but we need to feel useful.
Then, there's the way that "weeds" are so often a metaphor for things we don't want in our lives. They are the bad habits that seem so deeply rooted that they seem to grow back faster for all of our efforts to uproot them. They are like the negative relationships in our lives that we have trouble extricating ourselves from, and like the negative messages we hear and heed daily - even though they choke our growth as surely as that "mourning inglorious" stuff is choking the roots of my lavender.
Without a doubt, many of us seem to spend a disproportionate amount of our lives "weeding" - and sadly it is a necessity. It is unfair that the talents we have and the positive traits we'd like to nurture require so much effort to establish "roots", while those negative traits and influences in our lives live on no matter how often we douse them in vinegar (like those ever-present weeds in the lawn) - but it's a sad reality that we all need to live with. The "garden of life" requires constant weeding and watering to bear fruit.
Still, if we look at weeds in terms of their sheer stubborn "sticktoitiveness" we have to afford them some grudging admiration. If I was more "weed-like" I certainly would have more accomplishments and skills to my credit. I mean, those weeds just plain don't listen when I tell them where they shouldn't grow! If my talents were anything like that persistent they'd thrive no matter how much discouragement they felt.
Thus, in this post I pay homage to the lowly weed - bane of my existence, but still to be admired.
Behold the Weed! (By Sharon Flood Kasenberg - June 2, 2007)
A weed's a plant that grows where it should not,
and uninvited, propagates - a lot!
It roots itself with great tenacity -
determined to stay where it shouldn't be.
But what is planted, on the other hand,
puts rather timid roots into the land -
and although chosen for a certain spot,
is temperamental and seems prone to rot.
Thus I have come to grudgingly admire
a myriad of plants I don't desire.
They're certainly unwanted, but hold fast -
and seed themselves so they'll forever last.
It seems our good intentions would succeed -
if we were as committed as the weed!
Wednesday, 10 July 2013
How Do I Loathe Thee, Virgin Mobile? (Let Me Count the Ways!) - By Sharon Flood Kasenberg
Usually in my blog posts I try to leave my readers with a positive message. Today, in spite of my ranting I will tell you one positive thing, which is that I am positive that I've received pretty miserable service from Virgin Mobile. I'm also positive that some of their corporate practices don't meet the standards of a mature and discriminating customer. Having given two positive messages for those reading to take to heart, I'm now going to tell you about the negative experiences I've endured as a virgin customer.
I know I didn't capitalize "virgin", and that's because right off the bat I want to make the admission that I'm new to this whole cell phone thing. About a year and a half ago I finally broke down and bought my first. I was spending a lot of time out of town at that point, and going mobile seemed like a necessary evil if I wanted to stay in regular contact with my husband (which I did).
My cell phone doesn't get used a lot anymore - maybe once a week. Less than a dozen people have my number. I don't use it as a camera, or to surf the net, and I don't text. I got the most basic, pared down plan out there - supposedly less than $40.00/month. Which brings me to my first complaint.
1) Why is my bill always so high? For a while it was high because when I bought a replacement phone the guy in the Virgin booth assured me he'd cancel my former phone plan, but he apparently didn't. That accounts for FOUR months of obscenely high bills, but not the ones that have arrived since my husband and I BOTH gave them a reaming out that should've made their ears bleed. Still, I'd love to hear why after missing a payment (or even TWO) my bill at the end of May was supposedly more than $150.00 and this latest bill is more than $90.00. Frankly, it just doesn't add up. Then, (of course) there is the way they nag you about paying bills. What ever happened to the good old days when a bill arrived in the mail and you had a month to pay it? Here's an example of the impatience of these collectors. I got a bill while my internet was down - (I think it was dated the 6th) - and on the 8th I got a call asking where my payment was! But that wasn't all, and I'll get to the rest of that conversation later...
2) Why do I hear from Virgin Mobile so often? Every time I use my cell phone I have fresh messages and texts on my phone. (These texts don't ever get picked up. I don't text, remember? It's not part of my plan, and I feel no need to listen to any more advertising propaganda than I'm already subjected to.) As for the phone messages, Virgin is ONLY my cell phone carrier - not my husband, child, mother or best friend. While I can't speak for the rest of the world, I can say, from the bottom of my heart, that I just plain don't want constant interaction with my cell phone carrier. And ahh - what a "treat" those interactions are, a sentiment I will expound upon in my next several points:
3) I understand that Richard Branson (like so many other billionaires out there) seems to think that it's a necessity to outsource work to Asia rather than employ North Americans. (That's a whole other rant that I won't go into now.) What bothers me is that these people don't know how to communicate effectively in English, which as far as I know is still the primary language of commerce on this continent. I shouldn't have to repeat (or to ask "service" people to repeat) things a half dozen times before we (sort of) understand each other. I know my last name may be difficult for foreign tongues, but my first name is pretty straight forward. Something close would be nice.
4) Likewise, it would be nice if these "service" people understood North American culture, even slightly. For example, the polite way to begin a conversation is with the word hello. If you want to formally address a married woman you call her Mrs something, in my case Mrs. Kasenberg. If you're in doubt about a woman's marital status use Ms (pronounced Mizz) or use her first name. When you call me Miss Sharon, my memory hearkens waaay back to the days of Gunsmoke, and "Miss Kitty" (who likely wasn't virginal). I'm not a saloon girl, I'm a domestic goddess!
5) Professional behavior doesn't entail the use of the opening phrase "Hey there!" in an exaggerated Aussie drawl by a perky "valley girl" wannabe. Some of us remember when Moon Unit Zappa began that whole shtick in the early 80's. Even when it was "new and fresh" it got irritating fast. Forget trying to be "hip" and just aim for polite and professional.
6) Why does Virgin keep nagging me after my bill is paid? They claim to have no record of payment, but if 48 hours after the thing has been paid they either don't have the payment recorded, or their people can't manage to access that information than they've reached a whole new sub-standard.
7) What's with the long pause full of dead air when I answer my phone? I say hello and give it ten seconds, and any caller who can't reply in that space of time is history - period.
8) What makes Virgin Mobile think I should "hold" for them when they called me? I'm used to the endless waits when I need to call them, but it's just not going to fly when they call my house, or my cell and expect me to "hold" - especially when they can't even bother to identify themselves first.
9) (This one really sticks in my craw.) Why, when they call to nag me less than 36 hours after they send the bill, do they have the gall to ask me how I intend to pay? I'll pay however I choose to pay, and they should jolly well be grateful to get paid at all when by my calculations they've over charged me by about six months worth of fees. Next time they ask that question I'll give this answer:
"I intend to pay you by pony express, and in nickels. I'm strapping the saddle bags onto Petunia as we speak! (Giddy-up, girl!) You should get your payment in three or four weeks. Have a nice day!"
10) Finally, that name really bothers me. A name like "Virgin" just doesn't suit a company that spends so much time in solicitation and is greedy and sloppy to boot. I'm fed up with dealing with you, Ricky. I'm off to find a better plan, something less expensive for the occasional user. I still hold out hope that better customer service isn't just a pipe dream these days.
Thus ends the prosaic part of this post, but I wouldn't be The Rhyming Muse if I didn't leave you a poetic offering, so here goes:
How Do I Loathe Thee, Virgin Mobile? (Let Me Count the Ways!)
In spite of what you claim to be,
I question your "virginity" -
solicitations never end,
you're driving me around the bend!
A dozen texts you leave for me,
and on my plan texts are NOT free.
As for the messages you leave,
(almost daily, I believe)
I truly wish that you would chill -
your frequency is overkill.
You're not my spouse or my best friend,
but all those messages you send
from Aussie with annoying voice
(not vocal "talent" of my choice) -
"Hey There!" not what I like to hear
when I put telephone to ear.
A greeting somewhat more refined
is preferable, to my mind.
And for the record (so you know)
the proper greeting is "Hello"
and it seems strange you must be told
when YOU call ME I will not "hold"!
I don't respond well to dead air -
ten seconds pass...guess no one's there -
and so hang up is what I do,
it might sound crazy, but it's true.
As for my name, it would suffice
if you came close just once or twice -
so call me "Sharon" if you must,
but this Miss Sharon won't, I trust
be anymore address to me -
it irritates me thoroughly.
But not as much as how you bill -
your lack of patience makes me ill.
The bill is sent to my email,
and very shortly, without fail
you call to say I'm overdue -
which doesn't sound exactly true.
But then again, when you owe me -
like for the month or two or THREE
I paid account you said was closed
no restitution was proposed.
Yet some of us have honour still -
I said I'd pay you and I will.
I'll pay you like I always do
and pray that soon we will be through.
You see, I seek a better plan -
It's obvious I'm not a fan.
By Sharon Flood Kasenberg - July 9, 2013
I know I didn't capitalize "virgin", and that's because right off the bat I want to make the admission that I'm new to this whole cell phone thing. About a year and a half ago I finally broke down and bought my first. I was spending a lot of time out of town at that point, and going mobile seemed like a necessary evil if I wanted to stay in regular contact with my husband (which I did).
My cell phone doesn't get used a lot anymore - maybe once a week. Less than a dozen people have my number. I don't use it as a camera, or to surf the net, and I don't text. I got the most basic, pared down plan out there - supposedly less than $40.00/month. Which brings me to my first complaint.
1) Why is my bill always so high? For a while it was high because when I bought a replacement phone the guy in the Virgin booth assured me he'd cancel my former phone plan, but he apparently didn't. That accounts for FOUR months of obscenely high bills, but not the ones that have arrived since my husband and I BOTH gave them a reaming out that should've made their ears bleed. Still, I'd love to hear why after missing a payment (or even TWO) my bill at the end of May was supposedly more than $150.00 and this latest bill is more than $90.00. Frankly, it just doesn't add up. Then, (of course) there is the way they nag you about paying bills. What ever happened to the good old days when a bill arrived in the mail and you had a month to pay it? Here's an example of the impatience of these collectors. I got a bill while my internet was down - (I think it was dated the 6th) - and on the 8th I got a call asking where my payment was! But that wasn't all, and I'll get to the rest of that conversation later...
2) Why do I hear from Virgin Mobile so often? Every time I use my cell phone I have fresh messages and texts on my phone. (These texts don't ever get picked up. I don't text, remember? It's not part of my plan, and I feel no need to listen to any more advertising propaganda than I'm already subjected to.) As for the phone messages, Virgin is ONLY my cell phone carrier - not my husband, child, mother or best friend. While I can't speak for the rest of the world, I can say, from the bottom of my heart, that I just plain don't want constant interaction with my cell phone carrier. And ahh - what a "treat" those interactions are, a sentiment I will expound upon in my next several points:
3) I understand that Richard Branson (like so many other billionaires out there) seems to think that it's a necessity to outsource work to Asia rather than employ North Americans. (That's a whole other rant that I won't go into now.) What bothers me is that these people don't know how to communicate effectively in English, which as far as I know is still the primary language of commerce on this continent. I shouldn't have to repeat (or to ask "service" people to repeat) things a half dozen times before we (sort of) understand each other. I know my last name may be difficult for foreign tongues, but my first name is pretty straight forward. Something close would be nice.
4) Likewise, it would be nice if these "service" people understood North American culture, even slightly. For example, the polite way to begin a conversation is with the word hello. If you want to formally address a married woman you call her Mrs something, in my case Mrs. Kasenberg. If you're in doubt about a woman's marital status use Ms (pronounced Mizz) or use her first name. When you call me Miss Sharon, my memory hearkens waaay back to the days of Gunsmoke, and "Miss Kitty" (who likely wasn't virginal). I'm not a saloon girl, I'm a domestic goddess!
5) Professional behavior doesn't entail the use of the opening phrase "Hey there!" in an exaggerated Aussie drawl by a perky "valley girl" wannabe. Some of us remember when Moon Unit Zappa began that whole shtick in the early 80's. Even when it was "new and fresh" it got irritating fast. Forget trying to be "hip" and just aim for polite and professional.
6) Why does Virgin keep nagging me after my bill is paid? They claim to have no record of payment, but if 48 hours after the thing has been paid they either don't have the payment recorded, or their people can't manage to access that information than they've reached a whole new sub-standard.
7) What's with the long pause full of dead air when I answer my phone? I say hello and give it ten seconds, and any caller who can't reply in that space of time is history - period.
8) What makes Virgin Mobile think I should "hold" for them when they called me? I'm used to the endless waits when I need to call them, but it's just not going to fly when they call my house, or my cell and expect me to "hold" - especially when they can't even bother to identify themselves first.
9) (This one really sticks in my craw.) Why, when they call to nag me less than 36 hours after they send the bill, do they have the gall to ask me how I intend to pay? I'll pay however I choose to pay, and they should jolly well be grateful to get paid at all when by my calculations they've over charged me by about six months worth of fees. Next time they ask that question I'll give this answer:
"I intend to pay you by pony express, and in nickels. I'm strapping the saddle bags onto Petunia as we speak! (Giddy-up, girl!) You should get your payment in three or four weeks. Have a nice day!"
10) Finally, that name really bothers me. A name like "Virgin" just doesn't suit a company that spends so much time in solicitation and is greedy and sloppy to boot. I'm fed up with dealing with you, Ricky. I'm off to find a better plan, something less expensive for the occasional user. I still hold out hope that better customer service isn't just a pipe dream these days.
Thus ends the prosaic part of this post, but I wouldn't be The Rhyming Muse if I didn't leave you a poetic offering, so here goes:
How Do I Loathe Thee, Virgin Mobile? (Let Me Count the Ways!)
In spite of what you claim to be,
I question your "virginity" -
solicitations never end,
you're driving me around the bend!
A dozen texts you leave for me,
and on my plan texts are NOT free.
As for the messages you leave,
(almost daily, I believe)
I truly wish that you would chill -
your frequency is overkill.
You're not my spouse or my best friend,
but all those messages you send
from Aussie with annoying voice
(not vocal "talent" of my choice) -
"Hey There!" not what I like to hear
when I put telephone to ear.
A greeting somewhat more refined
is preferable, to my mind.
And for the record (so you know)
the proper greeting is "Hello"
and it seems strange you must be told
when YOU call ME I will not "hold"!
I don't respond well to dead air -
ten seconds pass...guess no one's there -
and so hang up is what I do,
it might sound crazy, but it's true.
As for my name, it would suffice
if you came close just once or twice -
so call me "Sharon" if you must,
but this Miss Sharon won't, I trust
be anymore address to me -
it irritates me thoroughly.
But not as much as how you bill -
your lack of patience makes me ill.
The bill is sent to my email,
and very shortly, without fail
you call to say I'm overdue -
which doesn't sound exactly true.
But then again, when you owe me -
like for the month or two or THREE
I paid account you said was closed
no restitution was proposed.
Yet some of us have honour still -
I said I'd pay you and I will.
I'll pay you like I always do
and pray that soon we will be through.
You see, I seek a better plan -
It's obvious I'm not a fan.
By Sharon Flood Kasenberg - July 9, 2013
Monday, 17 June 2013
Television Land - It Used to Be a Nice Place to Visit! By Sharon Flood Kasenberg
In my last post I talked about how technology has changed the dating world. This post will discuss how technology has changed the face of what used to be a major source of entertainment for a lot of us - namely television.
Our television was a big deal when I was growing up. The first TV set that I can recall gracing our household was a persnickety old black and white set in a square wooden box that sat directly on the floor. It was supposed to count as a piece of furniture, but besides frustrating us daily with horizontal lines running through often fuzzy screens it is safe to say that it made kind of a negative design statement decor wise. Nevertheless, I doubt that an entire day ever passed without multiple members of our somewhat numerous household sitting down and trying to watch something on it.
My earliest memories of television include watching shows like Captain Kangaroo and Mr. Dress-Up in the mornings while my mother got my older siblings out the door to school. (In fact, I was such a "fan" of the latter that my grandmother walked me over to the neighborhood Stedman's when he put in an appearance there, and I received my one and only celebrity autographed picture on that memorable afternoon.)
In the evenings after supper the television was always on, but most of the shows we watched don't stand out in memory. What I DO recall is the Saturday night television schedule. (That was my parent's square dancing night, and my older sisters quickly discovered that the television, in unison with a big bowl of popcorn, was an effective babysitting strategy) My oldest sister made the popcorn and hogged the bowl somewhat shamelessly. The rest of us fought for the spot on the sofa beside her while we watched Green Acres and Petticoat Junction and The Honeymooners IF we were good and thus rewarded by staying up that late.
I think I was four years old before I saw a colour television, and I was about ten when we got one. My parents must have been feeling flush because that's about the same time we got cablevision and were able to watch more than two channels. With so many new options the Saturday line-up changed too. My oldest sisters were out with friends most weekends by this point, and we four youngest Floods relied on the change my father left for "Saturday Night Treats" instead of going the popcorn route.
Television in the 70's was pretty hokey by today's standards. I know this because over the past few years my husband and I have watched several seasons of Cannon, Welcome Back Kotter, Barnaby Jones, and even the (totally cringe-worthy!) first season of Fantasy Island. For the most part, the plots were pretty thin and the acting was less than stellar, but there was still a strangely addictive quality to some of those shows that is often lacking in what passes for a sitcom today. (With the exception of Big Bang there doesn't seem to be much in that category worth watching.)
Television in the 80's is hard for me to comment on, since I went half of that decade without a television and only caught my favorite programs from that era almost a decade later as reruns. (Try telling that to your kids! Mine were quite shocked that I survived such an ordeal, but in reality I didn't feel like I was missing that much. Occasionally I walked down the road to visit my great Aunt Nell, and she'd invite me to watch All My Children with her, but otherwise I was pretty blissfully ignorant where TV was concerned.)
In the early 90's I was busy being a newlywed and a new mom and the shiny new TV my father-in-law got us as a wedding present was mostly useful as background noise and a tenuous connection to the outside world while I was busy folding diapers. The nights I walked the floors with teething babies I first began to get "caught up" on all of the 80's sitcoms that I'd missed. Otherwise that decade was filled with every incarnation of Star Trek, and some really decent series like Coach, Murphy Brown, Everybody Loves Raymond, and (my personal favorite) Picket Fences.
Sadly, television began to change with the new millennium. Suddenly we saw the rise of "Reality Shows" which soon began to dominate the airwaves. The technology that had become so prevalent in our homes seemed to awaken the voyeur in many, who now felt the urge to tune in to what was happening in the living rooms of celebrities like Ozzy Osbourne and Gene Simmons, or to watch "real" families with very different dynamics and problems than ours. (Jon and Kate, The Little People, Sister Wives, 17 - or 18 or 19 - Kids and Counting.) Why are these shows so fascinating to the masses?
I can't offer an explanation because I don't know. All I can say is that the more "reality shows" I see previews for, the less faith I have in television's ability to entertain me. For several years my TV diet consisted of little but HGTV. It seemed that there wasn't much on offer besides "reality" (LOL!) that didn't feature vampires, gore, violence and crime investigation. (CSI - Miami, LA, who knows where else?) We have discovered some good television after the fact - (as in a season or two in), such as Alias, Chuck, Firefly, Eli Stone, Six Feet Under and more currently Castle, Eureka and Nikita. All of these are series that we've purchased on disc and enjoyed immensely. Somehow going through ALL the channels offered and trying to find anything worth watching on television this past decade has become too much like work. There are simply too many channels that mostly duplicate each other in terms of content and (ahem) - quality.
We are drowning in choices, but starving for good entertainment, in this bogger's humble opinion. Which leads to my poetic offering on the subject...
On Going Digital:
When I was five some folks I knew
included Captain Kangaroo
The Friendly Giant and Jerome -
they visited me in my home.
Old Friends they were, though never seen
except upon the TV screen.
Our television - black and white -
was entertainment day and night.
It made us laugh and sometimes cry
or heave a sentimental sigh.
On Saturdays we were content -
we all knew how the line-up went,
while popcorn bowl passed hand to hand
we toured through television land -
Green Acres to Gilligan's Isle -
and every journey seemed worthwhile.
Those "sitcoms" made in days of yore
appear in reruns evermore;
we seek them for relief, you see
from what is dubbed "reality" -
(like "housewives" surgically cloned,
all bleached and waxed and siliconed.)
No teenaged vampires call to me -
I'd rather watch HGTV!
I can watch news or endless sports
or judges sitting in their courts -
I can watch weather all day through -
so tell me - Why do I feel blue?
The answer? Digital TV!
Too much to choose, not much to see!
Our television was a big deal when I was growing up. The first TV set that I can recall gracing our household was a persnickety old black and white set in a square wooden box that sat directly on the floor. It was supposed to count as a piece of furniture, but besides frustrating us daily with horizontal lines running through often fuzzy screens it is safe to say that it made kind of a negative design statement decor wise. Nevertheless, I doubt that an entire day ever passed without multiple members of our somewhat numerous household sitting down and trying to watch something on it.
My earliest memories of television include watching shows like Captain Kangaroo and Mr. Dress-Up in the mornings while my mother got my older siblings out the door to school. (In fact, I was such a "fan" of the latter that my grandmother walked me over to the neighborhood Stedman's when he put in an appearance there, and I received my one and only celebrity autographed picture on that memorable afternoon.)
In the evenings after supper the television was always on, but most of the shows we watched don't stand out in memory. What I DO recall is the Saturday night television schedule. (That was my parent's square dancing night, and my older sisters quickly discovered that the television, in unison with a big bowl of popcorn, was an effective babysitting strategy) My oldest sister made the popcorn and hogged the bowl somewhat shamelessly. The rest of us fought for the spot on the sofa beside her while we watched Green Acres and Petticoat Junction and The Honeymooners IF we were good and thus rewarded by staying up that late.
I think I was four years old before I saw a colour television, and I was about ten when we got one. My parents must have been feeling flush because that's about the same time we got cablevision and were able to watch more than two channels. With so many new options the Saturday line-up changed too. My oldest sisters were out with friends most weekends by this point, and we four youngest Floods relied on the change my father left for "Saturday Night Treats" instead of going the popcorn route.
Television in the 70's was pretty hokey by today's standards. I know this because over the past few years my husband and I have watched several seasons of Cannon, Welcome Back Kotter, Barnaby Jones, and even the (totally cringe-worthy!) first season of Fantasy Island. For the most part, the plots were pretty thin and the acting was less than stellar, but there was still a strangely addictive quality to some of those shows that is often lacking in what passes for a sitcom today. (With the exception of Big Bang there doesn't seem to be much in that category worth watching.)
Television in the 80's is hard for me to comment on, since I went half of that decade without a television and only caught my favorite programs from that era almost a decade later as reruns. (Try telling that to your kids! Mine were quite shocked that I survived such an ordeal, but in reality I didn't feel like I was missing that much. Occasionally I walked down the road to visit my great Aunt Nell, and she'd invite me to watch All My Children with her, but otherwise I was pretty blissfully ignorant where TV was concerned.)
In the early 90's I was busy being a newlywed and a new mom and the shiny new TV my father-in-law got us as a wedding present was mostly useful as background noise and a tenuous connection to the outside world while I was busy folding diapers. The nights I walked the floors with teething babies I first began to get "caught up" on all of the 80's sitcoms that I'd missed. Otherwise that decade was filled with every incarnation of Star Trek, and some really decent series like Coach, Murphy Brown, Everybody Loves Raymond, and (my personal favorite) Picket Fences.
Sadly, television began to change with the new millennium. Suddenly we saw the rise of "Reality Shows" which soon began to dominate the airwaves. The technology that had become so prevalent in our homes seemed to awaken the voyeur in many, who now felt the urge to tune in to what was happening in the living rooms of celebrities like Ozzy Osbourne and Gene Simmons, or to watch "real" families with very different dynamics and problems than ours. (Jon and Kate, The Little People, Sister Wives, 17 - or 18 or 19 - Kids and Counting.) Why are these shows so fascinating to the masses?
I can't offer an explanation because I don't know. All I can say is that the more "reality shows" I see previews for, the less faith I have in television's ability to entertain me. For several years my TV diet consisted of little but HGTV. It seemed that there wasn't much on offer besides "reality" (LOL!) that didn't feature vampires, gore, violence and crime investigation. (CSI - Miami, LA, who knows where else?) We have discovered some good television after the fact - (as in a season or two in), such as Alias, Chuck, Firefly, Eli Stone, Six Feet Under and more currently Castle, Eureka and Nikita. All of these are series that we've purchased on disc and enjoyed immensely. Somehow going through ALL the channels offered and trying to find anything worth watching on television this past decade has become too much like work. There are simply too many channels that mostly duplicate each other in terms of content and (ahem) - quality.
We are drowning in choices, but starving for good entertainment, in this bogger's humble opinion. Which leads to my poetic offering on the subject...
On Going Digital:
When I was five some folks I knew
included Captain Kangaroo
The Friendly Giant and Jerome -
they visited me in my home.
Old Friends they were, though never seen
except upon the TV screen.
Our television - black and white -
was entertainment day and night.
It made us laugh and sometimes cry
or heave a sentimental sigh.
On Saturdays we were content -
we all knew how the line-up went,
while popcorn bowl passed hand to hand
we toured through television land -
Green Acres to Gilligan's Isle -
and every journey seemed worthwhile.
Those "sitcoms" made in days of yore
appear in reruns evermore;
we seek them for relief, you see
from what is dubbed "reality" -
(like "housewives" surgically cloned,
all bleached and waxed and siliconed.)
No teenaged vampires call to me -
I'd rather watch HGTV!
I can watch news or endless sports
or judges sitting in their courts -
I can watch weather all day through -
so tell me - Why do I feel blue?
The answer? Digital TV!
Too much to choose, not much to see!
Thursday, 30 May 2013
De-bating E-dating (By Sharon Flood Kasenberg)
Whenever I talk to single friends who are trying to navigate the modern dating scene I'm grateful that my dating years are far FAR behind me and that they occurred in a simpler era. Mind you, I'm the first to admit that my dating experience was limited. I was never the teenager who had a date lined up every second night, or even every weekend. No, I was the girl who (for the most part) warmed the wallflower bench and held out hope that sooner or later the right guy would show up and see something in me that warranted investigation.
A few did just that before the "keeper" came along. Two fairly lengthy relationships, interspersed with a lone date here or there and those short-term "things" that one never knows how to label in retrospect. I married at 26, which by LDS (Mormon) standards is (or at least in those days was) heading toward "Old Maid" territory. There were times when I wondered if the right man would ever come along. I guess what I'm trying to say is that it didn't matter that it took a while - I was young, and time was one thing I had to spare.
Life was different then. People were less wary of each other and more sociable. If a friend "set you up" you felt you could take their word that the person was okay - not a secret pervert or an escapee from the asylum. He probably wouldn't try to rob or rape you.
You met people, waaaay back then, at school and at parties and dances and clubs (if you were daring enough to do that scene) and for most of us that worked just fine. Then you dated for quite a while before "getting physical" - that's just how it was.
Obviously the world is a different place. People have grown wary, and with good reason. During my dating years (from the late 70's to late 80's) AIDS was discovered, as well as a whole host of other nasty things that nobody had heard of before. Add that to the fact that sexual activity now starts a whole lot younger, and you begin to see why people feel that they need a biography and a medical screening from a potential partner before they can commence dating.
People are busier than ever before too. Those computers that became common fixtures in every office in the 80's soon became common fixtures in our homes too. Remember when we all thought that computers would give us a shorter work week? HA! Employers got wise to the fact that more work could be done faster and changed their expectations accordingly. Most people I know work longer days than ever before and bring work home with them too, where they remain tethered to the office by their faithful cell phone. Which leaves them feeling that they don't have much time to themselves, and if they're single, little time to pursue dating.
Furthermore, most of the "e-daters" I've met are over forty and dealing with being single again after acquiring a few kids and a mortgage along the way. They need to stay busy to meet their financial and parental commitments. They appreciate now, that time is limited. Those golden years are around the corner, and most want someone to spend them with.
The younger set still have the same options that I did, but for those dating in their 40's and beyond those opportunities for meeting members of the opposite sex have largely dried up. Finding dates online begins to look like a viable option. (I find it interesting that the very culprit responsible for the lack of sociability in our lives has become the "solution" to the problem of how to meet people.) But at the same time I get it - desperate times call for desperate measures, and by reading bios and engaging in a little "chat" and texting and a few phone calls you can root through those potential dating candidates faster, right?
Hmmm - a good question. I think that part of the problem now is that these sites offer so many potential "dates" that it can all be a bit overwhelming, especially once you factor into the equation the differences between how men and women think. Most women want romance and commitment and at least the possibility of love. They don't usually want sex until they're secure in the knowledge that they're in a committed relationship. Men, on the other hand, will often tell women on these sites that they want "something more" and while I'm sure some do, most are apt to want "things" to progress quickly. I remain convinced that men are more likely than women view sex as some sort of a relationship litmus test. For many men today, sex (probably on the third date) determines whether there will be a relationship.
Another problem with using technology to procure dates is knowing how much you can safely share. The sheer volume of information about all of us that floats in cyberspace is staggering. One too many shared facts can prove dangerous. With the click of a few buttons unscrupulous sorts with a bit of know how can quickly find out all kinds of things - like what income bracket you're in, how many kids you have and where you live. One friend told me that she never shares her real first name and profession for fear of being cyber-stalked. Small wonder that we hear about so many seniors (who are often shockingly naive about computer safe practices) being bilked out of their life-savings by these long-distance online-dating predators!
Now that I've given this some serious consideration let me demonstrate how I've poetically captured the "lighter side" of online dating. (Please note - these are fictional and highly exaggerated caricatures that show the "idealistic and romantic" views more often found in women, and the less than savory objectives of some men. She wants security and devotion, and he wants...!)
Profile: Single Woman (Hopeless Romantic) By Sharon Flood Kasenberg (January 2007)
I am a single woman, divorced a time or two -
I'm looking for my soul mate - a perfect man might do.
He needs to be romantic, and handsome as can be;
gainfully employed so he can take good care of me!
He needs to be attentive, agree with all I say,
and purchase gifts and flowers for every special day.
In return I'll cherish him - he'll never be alone!
And when we're not together, we'll speak by telephone!
He'll tell me I'm perfection, both beautiful and smart,
and profess he's never loved with so much of his heart.
Then like a dime store romance, he'll kiss me and I'll swoon.
He'll gaze at me in wonder and promise me the moon.
He'll love me with devotion that might freak some girls out,
but that's just what I deserve - of this there is no doubt.
And surely when he finds me our romance will ensue,
leading soon to wedded bliss and dreams that all come true!
Poor dear! Sadly, this might be the most promising response she'll get...
Profile: Single Man (Old Coot!) By Sharon Flood Kasenberg (January 2007)
I want to be your soul mate -
I'm looking for a wife.
I've no fear of commitment,
been married most my life.
Of course, I'm eighty-seven,
but I'm fit and active!
I hope to find a woman
slender and attractive.
Her age is not important
as long as she is spry
and wants to get romantic
with an experienced guy!
I've made a lot of money
(Which might sweeten the pot) -
I've outlived four homely wives;
I want one who is HOT!
No offense intended. And to my cyber-dating friends, happy hunting, and stay safe out there.
A few did just that before the "keeper" came along. Two fairly lengthy relationships, interspersed with a lone date here or there and those short-term "things" that one never knows how to label in retrospect. I married at 26, which by LDS (Mormon) standards is (or at least in those days was) heading toward "Old Maid" territory. There were times when I wondered if the right man would ever come along. I guess what I'm trying to say is that it didn't matter that it took a while - I was young, and time was one thing I had to spare.
Life was different then. People were less wary of each other and more sociable. If a friend "set you up" you felt you could take their word that the person was okay - not a secret pervert or an escapee from the asylum. He probably wouldn't try to rob or rape you.
You met people, waaaay back then, at school and at parties and dances and clubs (if you were daring enough to do that scene) and for most of us that worked just fine. Then you dated for quite a while before "getting physical" - that's just how it was.
Obviously the world is a different place. People have grown wary, and with good reason. During my dating years (from the late 70's to late 80's) AIDS was discovered, as well as a whole host of other nasty things that nobody had heard of before. Add that to the fact that sexual activity now starts a whole lot younger, and you begin to see why people feel that they need a biography and a medical screening from a potential partner before they can commence dating.
People are busier than ever before too. Those computers that became common fixtures in every office in the 80's soon became common fixtures in our homes too. Remember when we all thought that computers would give us a shorter work week? HA! Employers got wise to the fact that more work could be done faster and changed their expectations accordingly. Most people I know work longer days than ever before and bring work home with them too, where they remain tethered to the office by their faithful cell phone. Which leaves them feeling that they don't have much time to themselves, and if they're single, little time to pursue dating.
Furthermore, most of the "e-daters" I've met are over forty and dealing with being single again after acquiring a few kids and a mortgage along the way. They need to stay busy to meet their financial and parental commitments. They appreciate now, that time is limited. Those golden years are around the corner, and most want someone to spend them with.
The younger set still have the same options that I did, but for those dating in their 40's and beyond those opportunities for meeting members of the opposite sex have largely dried up. Finding dates online begins to look like a viable option. (I find it interesting that the very culprit responsible for the lack of sociability in our lives has become the "solution" to the problem of how to meet people.) But at the same time I get it - desperate times call for desperate measures, and by reading bios and engaging in a little "chat" and texting and a few phone calls you can root through those potential dating candidates faster, right?
Hmmm - a good question. I think that part of the problem now is that these sites offer so many potential "dates" that it can all be a bit overwhelming, especially once you factor into the equation the differences between how men and women think. Most women want romance and commitment and at least the possibility of love. They don't usually want sex until they're secure in the knowledge that they're in a committed relationship. Men, on the other hand, will often tell women on these sites that they want "something more" and while I'm sure some do, most are apt to want "things" to progress quickly. I remain convinced that men are more likely than women view sex as some sort of a relationship litmus test. For many men today, sex (probably on the third date) determines whether there will be a relationship.
Another problem with using technology to procure dates is knowing how much you can safely share. The sheer volume of information about all of us that floats in cyberspace is staggering. One too many shared facts can prove dangerous. With the click of a few buttons unscrupulous sorts with a bit of know how can quickly find out all kinds of things - like what income bracket you're in, how many kids you have and where you live. One friend told me that she never shares her real first name and profession for fear of being cyber-stalked. Small wonder that we hear about so many seniors (who are often shockingly naive about computer safe practices) being bilked out of their life-savings by these long-distance online-dating predators!
Now that I've given this some serious consideration let me demonstrate how I've poetically captured the "lighter side" of online dating. (Please note - these are fictional and highly exaggerated caricatures that show the "idealistic and romantic" views more often found in women, and the less than savory objectives of some men. She wants security and devotion, and he wants...!)
Profile: Single Woman (Hopeless Romantic) By Sharon Flood Kasenberg (January 2007)
I am a single woman, divorced a time or two -
I'm looking for my soul mate - a perfect man might do.
He needs to be romantic, and handsome as can be;
gainfully employed so he can take good care of me!
He needs to be attentive, agree with all I say,
and purchase gifts and flowers for every special day.
In return I'll cherish him - he'll never be alone!
And when we're not together, we'll speak by telephone!
He'll tell me I'm perfection, both beautiful and smart,
and profess he's never loved with so much of his heart.
Then like a dime store romance, he'll kiss me and I'll swoon.
He'll gaze at me in wonder and promise me the moon.
He'll love me with devotion that might freak some girls out,
but that's just what I deserve - of this there is no doubt.
And surely when he finds me our romance will ensue,
leading soon to wedded bliss and dreams that all come true!
Poor dear! Sadly, this might be the most promising response she'll get...
Profile: Single Man (Old Coot!) By Sharon Flood Kasenberg (January 2007)
I want to be your soul mate -
I'm looking for a wife.
I've no fear of commitment,
been married most my life.
Of course, I'm eighty-seven,
but I'm fit and active!
I hope to find a woman
slender and attractive.
Her age is not important
as long as she is spry
and wants to get romantic
with an experienced guy!
I've made a lot of money
(Which might sweeten the pot) -
I've outlived four homely wives;
I want one who is HOT!
No offense intended. And to my cyber-dating friends, happy hunting, and stay safe out there.
Thursday, 9 May 2013
Motherhood, or Memories of My Orbit - by Sharon Flood Kasenberg
I am a mother of two sons - both grown, but coming and going from under our roof. As I've contemplated writing a new post on motherhood I've struggled. How can I sum up almost twenty-four years of being a mom in a few short paragraphs and poems?
I chose to stay home with my children. I didn't make that choice because I was wildly in love with kids because I wasn't. (I'm still not - and don't apologize for that. Children are just un-grown people, and therefore deserve to be judged on their individual merits like the rest of us. How many people that you know gush about how much they love "people"? So there you have it - children are small people; some I love, some I don't, and many I can take or leave.) I tried to teach my kids to be the more tolerable kind. But I digress...
I didn't choose to stay at home because I'm too stupid to get a job, or because I married an ogre who browbeat me into making that decision. I opted to stay home because I wanted to be home for every milestone in my sons' lives. I wanted them to know that I'd be there when they came home from school, there when they wanted to have friends over - just there - period.
My decision came with consequences. We were poor when the boys were small. They wore hand-me-downs and sometimes I did too. I don't think any of us are emotionally scarred as a result. I taught them to look for red stickers and to recognize the word "s-a-l-e" early on. They didn't get everything they wanted. Small gifts (usually a dinky car or a small book) came as rewards for good behavior. Larger gifts were bestowed as birthday or Christmas gifts. They survived my frugality.
We didn't buy them video games and limited television watching and computer use. We didn't program them with a zillion activities. Some may think this amounts to deprivation, but my younger son recently thanked me for limiting his childhood screen time, and said he planned to do the same with his kids!
I think my sons would tell you that I taught them to love books and learning. As an impatient young mother I learned that the boys would settle down quickly when a story was offered. (When I really craved peace and quiet I read until I started to get hoarse) I think they'd tell you that I encouraged their imaginations by giving them crayons and building blocks and by playing with them as often as I could. I think they'd tell you that I encouraged a love of walking, and a love of nature when I tried to identify trees and flowers and patiently stood by while they threw rocks into any body of water we encountered.
Perhaps most importantly, I like to think they'd give me credit for teaching them to love each other. My sons were born twelve months and three weeks apart. Sam was too young to feel jealousy, and I always stressed that Dan was his brother. As soon as Dan was old enough to understand I'd tell them both how important a brother was. They heard that b-word so often that as small boys they often referred to each other as "Brother" instead of calling each other by name. (It was endearing.) Likewise, when they did fight the most effective way to end the spat was to place them in separate rooms. Within two minutes I would hear plaintive cries of " I want my brother!!"
I have such amazing memories of their childhood years...which leads me to the first poem I want to share today -
Memory (By Sharon Flood Kasenberg)
A memory, dear to me
I held you on my knee -
Silently I watched you sleep,
snuggled close, breathing deep.
You, a sleeping child of three
in tender memory.
Seldom had I seen you so -
teary-eyed, full of woe -
so consumed by need of me,
my fretful child of three.
A young mother, could I know
the speed at which you'd grow
when I held you near to me
a sleeping child of three?
Now, and in memory -
my child, so dear to me.
My sons may be "grown up", but I hope they're still growing and that I still have a role to play in their growth. I hope that someday the rest of the world sees everything in each of them that I do - their decency, their kindness, their intelligence and wit. I hope each develops the talents he was born with and adds in a few more along the way. And no matter how far they go I hope they both know that I'm there.
Happy Mother's Day everyone, and my you all enjoy your individual "orbit" !
Two Sons: (By Sharon Flood Kasenberg July '06)
My planetary orbit
around two sons revolves -
my path parental duty
and all that it involves.
Maternal love encircles
as I my path pursue -
I hope it is apparent
in all I say and do.
My two sons illuminate
my planet's atmosphere.
They heat my world in winter
with laughter and good cheer.
(And my small seed of mother love
with light and warmth has grown -
expanding ever larger
when I have goodness sown.)
They sparkle in the night sky
far off among their peers
and when I see them shining
my soul is moved to tears.
Thus ever I'm encouraged
when circling in their light
to honor our creator
by shining just as bright.
My maternal prayer is this:
When they are fully grown
may their glow increase so it
lights worlds beyond my own.
I chose to stay home with my children. I didn't make that choice because I was wildly in love with kids because I wasn't. (I'm still not - and don't apologize for that. Children are just un-grown people, and therefore deserve to be judged on their individual merits like the rest of us. How many people that you know gush about how much they love "people"? So there you have it - children are small people; some I love, some I don't, and many I can take or leave.) I tried to teach my kids to be the more tolerable kind. But I digress...
I didn't choose to stay at home because I'm too stupid to get a job, or because I married an ogre who browbeat me into making that decision. I opted to stay home because I wanted to be home for every milestone in my sons' lives. I wanted them to know that I'd be there when they came home from school, there when they wanted to have friends over - just there - period.
My decision came with consequences. We were poor when the boys were small. They wore hand-me-downs and sometimes I did too. I don't think any of us are emotionally scarred as a result. I taught them to look for red stickers and to recognize the word "s-a-l-e" early on. They didn't get everything they wanted. Small gifts (usually a dinky car or a small book) came as rewards for good behavior. Larger gifts were bestowed as birthday or Christmas gifts. They survived my frugality.
We didn't buy them video games and limited television watching and computer use. We didn't program them with a zillion activities. Some may think this amounts to deprivation, but my younger son recently thanked me for limiting his childhood screen time, and said he planned to do the same with his kids!
I think my sons would tell you that I taught them to love books and learning. As an impatient young mother I learned that the boys would settle down quickly when a story was offered. (When I really craved peace and quiet I read until I started to get hoarse) I think they'd tell you that I encouraged their imaginations by giving them crayons and building blocks and by playing with them as often as I could. I think they'd tell you that I encouraged a love of walking, and a love of nature when I tried to identify trees and flowers and patiently stood by while they threw rocks into any body of water we encountered.
Perhaps most importantly, I like to think they'd give me credit for teaching them to love each other. My sons were born twelve months and three weeks apart. Sam was too young to feel jealousy, and I always stressed that Dan was his brother. As soon as Dan was old enough to understand I'd tell them both how important a brother was. They heard that b-word so often that as small boys they often referred to each other as "Brother" instead of calling each other by name. (It was endearing.) Likewise, when they did fight the most effective way to end the spat was to place them in separate rooms. Within two minutes I would hear plaintive cries of " I want my brother!!"
I have such amazing memories of their childhood years...which leads me to the first poem I want to share today -
Memory (By Sharon Flood Kasenberg)
A memory, dear to me
I held you on my knee -
Silently I watched you sleep,
snuggled close, breathing deep.
You, a sleeping child of three
in tender memory.
Seldom had I seen you so -
teary-eyed, full of woe -
so consumed by need of me,
my fretful child of three.
A young mother, could I know
the speed at which you'd grow
when I held you near to me
a sleeping child of three?
Now, and in memory -
my child, so dear to me.
My sons may be "grown up", but I hope they're still growing and that I still have a role to play in their growth. I hope that someday the rest of the world sees everything in each of them that I do - their decency, their kindness, their intelligence and wit. I hope each develops the talents he was born with and adds in a few more along the way. And no matter how far they go I hope they both know that I'm there.
Happy Mother's Day everyone, and my you all enjoy your individual "orbit" !
Two Sons: (By Sharon Flood Kasenberg July '06)
My planetary orbit
around two sons revolves -
my path parental duty
and all that it involves.
Maternal love encircles
as I my path pursue -
I hope it is apparent
in all I say and do.
My two sons illuminate
my planet's atmosphere.
They heat my world in winter
with laughter and good cheer.
(And my small seed of mother love
with light and warmth has grown -
expanding ever larger
when I have goodness sown.)
They sparkle in the night sky
far off among their peers
and when I see them shining
my soul is moved to tears.
Thus ever I'm encouraged
when circling in their light
to honor our creator
by shining just as bright.
My maternal prayer is this:
When they are fully grown
may their glow increase so it
lights worlds beyond my own.
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