IT'S COLD!

        The winter! the brightness that blinds you,
        The white land locked tight as a drum,
        The cold fears that follows and finds you,
        The silence that bludgeons you dumb,
                                        Robert Service
                                        The Spell of the Yukon

      On a Christmas day we were mushing our way over the Dawson trail.
      Talk of your cold!through the parka's fold it stabbed like a driven nail.
      If our eyes we'd close , then the lashes froze till sometimes we couldn't see.
     It wasn't much fun , but the only one to whimper was Sam Magee.
                                           Robert Service
                                           The Cremation of Sam Magee

      We are in a severe cold spell so I thought I would use some poetry to provide some color. The high today was minus 26 C ( minus 12 F) . Tonight's low will be minus 36 (minus 37 F). To make things worse there has been some wind. I'm warm when I'm outside except for my face. I had a lab appointment at 8:30 this morning and in the two block walk it was cold on the face .

    Now Canada claims Robert Service as our poet. Robert Service was born in England and came to North America  and lived from Mexico the Vancouver Island. Service began working in a bank on Vancouver Island and went from Whitehorse to Dawson City. They had to make their own entertainment and Service wrote a poem each week and recited it at their weekly concerts. These poems were a great hit.



    About 1912 Service left Canada, went to France and lived there for much of the rest of his life. He wrote much poetry. He also spent some time in Hollywood during the second World war and entertained troops.

   What I like about Service is that Canadians claim him as their poet but he lived in Canada for less than ten years. Many Canadians think that Service lived his whole life in the little log cabin in Dawson City. This cabin is a tourist attraction that is very popular.





    So no matter if one of our favorite poets didn't live here, it's still cold. Check out Robert Service. He wrote some neat poems.
 

WITH MY FOOT IN MY MOUTH

     When I found this poem I could not remember writing it. It must have been a writing exercise I did with the kids, It looks like I picked a poem and followed it's pattern to make my poem.  I think I had a magazine that had a section called With My foot in my Mouth.

     I did figure out that I was writing about my principal who was a humorous, popular guy.

    Now the poem is pretty dumb. It's a nonsense poem. This is a first draft so it's pretty rough.

    So read it and enjoy. As always the old teacher you can ask questions.

    WITH MY FOOT IN MY MOUTH
    To you my principal
     It's time to say,
     I like your style
     You work all day

     I hear your jokes
     That always flow,
     About the teachers
     Who are too slow.

     But even though
     Your jokes are dumb,
     You never try 
      A tune to hum.


The poet on a spirit day that had a Hawaiian theme.

I FOUND A SURPRISE ON HIAWATHA HOUSE

        I follow Mr Pudding on Yorkshire Pudding. Lately Mr Pudding has been reflecting on how much repetition is on his blog. He said that there's a link at the top left hand side of the page and you could easily find old blogs .

        Well, I just had to try it. I put in schools since I was a teacher for 37 years and had written about schools. bingo. I found all the posts on schools. First, too many of them started out with"I was a teacher for 37 years" 

       One post caught my eye. It contained a poem I had written and I'd forgotten all about it. It was a poem meant to go along with the placing of a marker for the school building that had been closed long ago.

       Now, I went to the school for nine years and this blog takes it's name from the school. 

       So here's the poem I'd forgotten about. The names are of the people who lived in the area 

HIAWATHA GROUND

Quiet earth lay covered by prairie grass and buckbrush ,

Meadowlarks,crows and hunting coyotes occasionally passed by,
Briefly visited by many spring blooms ,
And ancient quiet people who scanned the willows for big brown bulks ,
Of many life sustaining energies.

Dustyhorn, Bitternose, Whitefeather, Asqpace...

Suddenly, settlers appear to till the land
And put down roots of settlement
Which spawned wire fences , trails ,roads
And dwellings to house their families
And patient beasts of burden.
King, Clark, Minnings, Paul...

Then their children required an education
So a school house was  patiently planned
By careful applications to the powers of the land
Who controlled the many details of
Official school district formation.
Hawes, Weurfel, Winks, Rathwell...

So with patient effort acceptance was gained
To build a school with gifted labor
Borrowed money and volunteers who
Undertook the time consuming supervision
Which produced a shining building for the children.
Ingelton, Bushell, Taylor, Wildeman...

Years of care to run the school
Find and pay a teacher
Repair the roof and walls
Fill out the required forms and reports
For the privilege of keeping kids in school.
Barber, Johnson, Langille, Stevenson...

Quiet Christians gathered there
In the name of the Lord to sing
And pray and study God's word
Which supported their souls
And daily trials and tribulations.
Mehaffey, Ronald , Kline, Muir...

Years ground by with depression
Drought ,war and changes slowly
Came to settlers and their way of life
As some moved on to other grounds
To find an easier success.
Manke, Brust, Kabernick, Leggott...

The silent end quickly appeared
When only six lonely scholars filled the desks
And sad decisions were made
To close the Hiawatha learning center
Which had faithfully served quiet locals
Epp, Kreiger, Enns, Freisen...

Now, the ground sleeps deeply once again
Visited by passing hawks and goldfinch
Covered by annual snows
While the joyous shouts of children
And devoted settlers are no longer heard .

Red tailed hawks, ground squirrels, butterflies...

LEONARD COHEN 1934-2016

    I've always been a fan of Leonard Cohen. It was always hard to believe that Leonard was growing old as he kept on writing and making music. It was a shock to learn of his death this week.

    It was also a shock for me to realize that he was well known in many parts of the world. I had always thought Leonard was mainly known in Canada.

    Leonard wrote about religion, politics, isolation ,sexuality, personal relations and much more. His words kept on smoothly flowing until he had said what he wanted to say.

    Leonard was a master when it came to music. First of all, he had the voice that everyone recognized. The voice could change from time to time. There was the usual low haunting whisper that he is well known for. Then he jazzed it up for closing time and other tunes. I wish he'd sung harmony more as in Mary Anne. He used back up singers extremely well as in closing time. He played a number of instruments. He used different instruments to great effect. He touched jazz, rock and roll, folk and more.

      So thanks to Leonard for all his poetry, songs and music. I will listen to the music until my closing time.