Mending Wall

Robert Frost's Mending Wall:

Something there is that doesn't love a wall,
That sends the frozen-ground-swell under it,
And spills the upper boulders in the sun,
And makes gaps even two can pass abreast.
The work of hunters is another thing:
I have come after them and made repair
Where they have left not one stone on a stone,
But they would have the rabbit out of hiding,
To please the yelping dogs. The gaps I mean,
No one has seen them made or heard them made,
But at spring mending-time we find them there.
I let my neighbor know beyond the hill;
And on a day we meet to walk the line
And set the wall between us once again.
We keep the wall between us as we go.
To each the boulders that have fallen to each.
And some are loaves and some so nearly balls
We have to use a spell to make them balance:
'Stay where you are until our backs are turned!'
We wear our fingers rough with handling them.
Oh, just another kind of out-door game,
One on a side. It comes to little more:
There where it is we do not need the wall:
He is all pine and I am apple orchard.
My apple trees will never get across
And eat the cones under his pines, I tell him.
He only says, 'Good fences make good neighbors'.
Spring is the mischief in me, and I wonder
If I could put a notion in his head:
'Why do they make good neighbors? Isn't it
Where there are cows?
But here there are no cows.
Before I built a wall I'd ask to know
What I was walling in or walling out,
And to whom I was like to give offence.
Something there is that doesn't love a wall,
That wants it down.' I could say 'Elves' to him,
But it's not elves exactly, and I'd rather
He said it for himself. I see him there
Bringing a stone grasped firmly by the top
In each hand, like an old-stone savage armed.
He moves in darkness as it seems to me~
Not of woods only and the shade of trees.
He will not go behind his father's saying,
And he likes having thought of it so well
He says again, "Good fences make good neighbors."



I've always loved this poem though I don't know why. I guess it just reminds me of so many people in this world that do so many strange things (often meaninless or counterproductive) out of custom or habit or fear or upbringing or ignorance. Or maybe I just like the mystery "something there is that doesn't love a wall". What is that something? I can't quote the poem as I once could but it still brings a smile to my face every time I read it. And shortly behind it falls The Road Not Taken, also by Robert Frost. OK, you got me, I just really like Robert Frost. Him and E.A. Poe. The rest of them famous poets bore me.

The Slave Girl

I've been doing alot of research in preparation for educating my son. I found an websight all about early america and it sucked me in. It's amazing to read what our founding fathers believed. But what really amazed me was a short biography of a black slave girl. Her name is Phillis Wheatley.

Here is a girl sold into slavery at age 7, spoke no English, yet by age 12 could read not only English, but Greek and Latin. A slave girl was better educated in early America than most high school graduates today who are lucky if they can read English. I'd like to read some of what this girl wrote. I think I'll go look for it.

Hey, I found her poems..
http://darkwing.uoregon.edu/~rbear/wheatley.html

An Indian's Perspective..

Conrad, you have liv'd among the white People, and know something of their Customs; I have been to Albany, and have observed that once in seven Days, they shut up thier Shops and assemble all in the great House; tell me, what it is for? what do they do there? They meet there, says Conrad, to hear & learn good things. I do not doubt, says the Indian, that they tell you so; they have told me the same; but I doubt the Truth of what they say, & I will tell you my Reason. I went lately to Albany to sell my Skins, & buy Blankets, Knives, Powder, Rum, &c. You know I used generally to deal with Hans Hanson; but I was a little inclined this time to try some other Merchants. However I called first upon Hans, and ask'd him what he would give me for Beaver; He said he could not give more than four Shillings a Pound; but, says he, I cannot talk on Business now; this is the Day when we meet together to learn good things, and I am going to the Meeting. So I thought to myself since I cannot talk on Business to day, I may as well go to the Meeting too; and I went with him. There stood up a Man in black, and began to talk to the People very angrily. I did not understand what he said; but perceiving that he looked much at me, & at Hanson, I imagined he was angry at seeing me there; so I went out, sat down near the House, struck Fire & lit my Pipe; waiting till the Meeting should break up. I thought too, that the Man had mentioned something of Beaver, and I suspect it might be the Subject of their Meeting. So when they came out I accosted my Merchant; well Hans, says I, I hope you have agreed to give me more than four Shillings a Pound. No, says he, I cannot give so much. I cannot give more than three Shillings and six Pence. I then spoke to several other Dealers, but they all sung the same Song, three & six Pence, three & six Pence. This made it clear to me that my Suspicion was right; and that whatever they pretended of Meeting to learn good things, the real Purpose was to consult, how to cheat Indians in the Price of Beaver. Consider but a little, Conrad, and you must be of my Opinion. If they met so often to learn good things, they would certainly have learnt some before this time. But they are still ignorant. You know our Practice. If a white Man in travelling thro' our Country, enters one of our Cabins, we all treat him as I treat you; we dry him if he is wet, we warm him if he is cold, and give him Meat & Drink that he may allay his Thirst and Hunger, & we spread soft Furs for him to rest & sleep on: We demand nothing in return. But if I go into a white Man's House at Albany, and ask for Victuals & Drink, they say, where is your Money? and if I have none, the say, get out, you Indian Dog. You see they have not yet learnt those little good things, that we need no Meetings to be instructed in, because our Mothers taught them to us when we were Children. And therefore it is impossible their Meetings should be as they say for any such purpose, or have any such Effect; they are only to contrive the Cheating of Indians in the Price of Beaver.

Just random thoughts that popped into my head...

Mary did you know that your baby boy one day woud walk on water... What did Mary know? How do you raise a boy you know is so special? I wonder if she ever saw him as Lord before he died or was he always just her little boy?

I wonder what it was like raising a child who never sinned. a child who always honors his parents. a child who was PERFECT. A child who by age twelve was conversing knowledgibly with the theologians.

Was Jesus ever wrong? Did he ever make assumptions in his youth that were false? Just because he never sinned doesn't me he didn't make mistakes.

At what age did he become a prophet? Or was he born with the gift of prophecy? I can't even contemplate being able to speak directly with God, yet alone doing so from birth.

When did Joseph and Mary tell his siblings who he really was or did they? Was there jealousy? Did his family have a false sense of entitlement being directly (blood) related to the savior of the world?

I wonder at what age God revealed his plan to his son? How many years did Jesus live with the knowledge that he would be a human sacrifice?

The "whole world" cringed in horror at the sight of seeing a total stranger have his throat cut by a terrorist. What about watching your son, brother, best friend, lord, leader, teacher crucified in the manner of Jesus?

Jesus was angry without sinning. Can you imagine being angry and it being 100% sinless and justified? I can't!

I wonder what Jesus would think of the WWJD phenomenon?

FINALLY A PLACE OF MY OWN

It’s been a long time since I’ve had a place of my own. But now, thank God, myself, Patty and Darrien have a home of our own. It’s only an apartment really, but it is more than we’ve had since we’ve been married. Me and Patty finally have a room of our own.. yea… Darrien has a bigger bed than I ever dreamed of as a kid (full)… and I’m closer to work than I’ve been since I was a teenager. I’m farther from my friends, my church and my childhood neighborhood.. small prices to pay for my family..

I can’t really afford this place, but somehow I’ve always managed to live beyond my means. Why should now be any different? My wife is happy and that is what really matters.

Life has been chaotic all week. Moving is such a chore. Especially when the only man who shows up to help is injured and can’t really lift anything heavy. All I can say is, I was hurting by the end of the day. But a big thanx to all the help I did receive. You know who you are. The place is still in disarray but is slowly starting to look inhabitable. Hopefully soon we’ll be able to start having company over. What a nice change that will be.

Well, I’m tired so goodnite to all who suffer through my psychobabble…

Mormons???? hmmmm???

Once again I, as a former Mormon, find myself engaged in a debate with an existing Mormon, who once again thinks me a blithering, blind fool, driven by my hatred of Mormonism and lack of Spiritual conviction. Apparently I just have a gross conceptual error of how the Spirit reveals truth. I feel so enlightened. Thank you for clearing that up.

LMAO... oh woe is me woe is me... I guess I'm just cursed to the second level of heaven.. oh wait, I might be a Son of Perdition, in which case I'm going to hell. the verdict is still out on that one.

http://ateam.blogware.com/blog/_archives/2005/12/21/1449504.html

Marriage... ain't it grand...

My title is.. Well.. Loaded with sarcasm at the moment.. My wife and I are currently fighting.. All married folk out there have had fights with your spouses I'm sure.. My wife, she can get really loud when she's mad (she is Puerto Rican, they are loud by nature).. In the middle of the fight my wife storms off to our room and I turn around and see my son, Darrien, in the corner with this horrified look on his face.. He tells me that Mommy scares him when she yells and then starts trying to counsel me on how not to anger Mommy.. Suddenly the fight seemed to loose all it's importance to me, because here was this little six year old boy who only wanted Mommy and Daddy to not be mad at each other.

It's a petty fight about nothing of any real significance. Sometimes I wonder why we get into these fights. Throughout the fight I continued to argue my point, cuz of course "I'm right". But now I can't help but wonder.. Should I have just gone along with her request, even though, in my opinion, her way is inconvenient and a rather waste of time, and of course my way (in my rational) is much more practical.

It's not that I think I was wrong to argue my point, but weighed against the counterproductiveness of fighting with my wife, maybe I should have just gone along with the less practical method.

Actually now that I think about it, most of our fights are this way. She wants me to do something "her way" and I'm more than happy to do it, but I want to do it "my way". She insists it's done her way and I insist that since I'm the one doing it, I'll do it my way.. We are both stubborn mules. She refuses to allow me to do it my way, and I refuse to do it her way.. It reminds me alot of a young brother and sister arguing over something of no real importance.. Both arguing past each other and not backing down an inch cuz heaven forbid one of them acquiesce.. The natural world order might end..

so how long does it take to advance past this primal form of argument into a more productive form? Does a more productive form exist? Or should I just give up now? Or are we destined to have pointless arguments of trivial stuff the rest of our lives.. Lord I hope not.

Well, I have to go finish packing now. I'm moving tomorrow.