Well, my video is right when I upload it, but when it comes up here it's sideways. I guess we'll all just have to turn our heads to the right to enjoy Emily's beautiful songs. Now... name that tune!

Oh, Brother

As I get older, I have more and more trouble processing the duplicity of time. On one hand, it seems like Emily was born just yesterday; on the other, it seems like she has been around forever. I can't articulate a life before she was here.


It's that duplicity that bothers me when I think about my brother. He died 20 years ago this fall, and I remember it like it was yesterday. His presence is etched into me. At the same time, it hurts when I think about everything he's missed. Of course, he didn't get to see his two beautiful children grow up into well-rounded, responsible adults. He didn't see the Berlin Wall come down. He wasn't here to share the grief involved in 9/11.




Strangely, it's the little things that bother me most. He would have LOVED the new Mustang. He never listened to a CD or owned a cell phone or a computer. He never got to ski on the new D3 waterski, which is the bomb. He missed Tivo! He would have LOVED Tivo. He missed the UFC. He never had an awesome snowmobile.




He never met my husband, which is hard for me because I think they would have been kindred spirits. They missed snowmobiling trips together, waterskiing tournaments, dirt bike weekends.

He never traveled overseas, vacationed in Hawaii. He never got to go scuba diving, which I know he would have enjoyed. He never jumped out of an airplane.

But he didn't miss everything. He married his high school sweetheart and stayed married until the day he died. He had two kids that, despite losing their father at 2 and 6 months, have turned into amazing young adults. He bought a house, worked a job he liked (I think), and spent time with friends and family.

He fought a battle that no one deserves to fight. He suffered through radiation treatments that forced him to lose his hair and his strength. He wore a tuxedo with a mohawk to my cousin's wedding, because the radiation had taken his hair.

So important to me now is the fact that both in life and in death, he changed who I am. He taught me the life lessons everyone learns growing up with a sibling. And he taught me to value what I have now, because you just never know when it can all be ripped away from you.

I miss him every day. And I wouldn't have it any other way. It helps me remember who I am. And why.

A Dinka Klinka

Some childhood memories sit at the edge of your consciousness, just waiting to be discovered. That happened to me yesterday evening. A simple song in the background of a TV program sent me reeling into the past. A good memory.

My dad was a passionate singer. We had one of those huge old stereos, the kind that took up half of the living room, with two big orange (or avacado green) panels on either side where the music escaped. Dad loved to sing along with the radio. He sang with such passion and commitment. He sang loud and deep; in my eyes, he was the best singer, ever.

One of the songs I remember best was "The Love of the Common People." It was the Waylon Jennings version (we listened to country music, of course). Hear a sample of it here.

I sang along, but my little ears never got it quite right: "Daddy's gonna buy you a dinka klinka, Momma's gonna love you just as much as she caaaaaan....and she caaaan." I don't remember if I ever asked what a dinka klinka was, or if I thought to ask. All I knew that it must be pretty cool if dad was gonna buy it for you, and by golly, I wanted one. I think I might have even asked for one for Christmas.

Here's my favorite part of the song:

But the closer the knit,

The tighter the fit,

And the chills stay away

--Just take 'em in stride for family pride.

You know that faith is your foundation
With a whole lotta love and a warm conversation,

But don't forget to pray.

Just making it strong where you belong.

And we're living in the love of the common people,

Smile's from the heart of a family man.

Daddy's gonna buy you a dream to cling to;

Mama's gonna love you just as much as she can.

And she can.

Thanks for the memory, dad. I love you.

"Mar-ma-lade," Emily said to me. "What is mar-ma-lade?" I've never been a big fan of marmalade, so I give her what I consider to be a textbook definition: "It's a jam made with oranges and stuff, kind of tangy. Grandma likes it." "Hmmm." She's quiet for a good two minutes, maybe more. Typical Emily. I think we are moving on.

Softly, she says, "It sounds so good." I lift an eyebrow. If anything, I thought I had not done marmalade justice. In truth, the world must be filled with people who love marmalade.

"Marrr-maaaa-lade. It sounds good." Ah, of course. It SOUNDS good...like marshmallow and lemonade.

And later, "I wonder if it's named after a person: Mr. Marmalade?" Do you need to know? I did. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Marmalade

The other day, my baby lost his last front tooth. Life is officially over. I can't imagine how I'll feel when he graduates or worse yet (gasp) gets married. One of my favorite TV lines comes from Monica on "Friends" when she says to her new baby: "I'm gonna love you so much no woman will ever be good enough for you!" I hope I'm not quite that psychotic, but I do love him an aweful lot. Anyway, I digress.

So I was putting him to bed with his tooth in its box under his head, and my six year old said, "Mom, what if YOU were the tooth fairy?" My heart dropped. How could my six-year-old be so grown up? How could he know about the tooth fairy? My eight year old daughter still believes, for goodness sake. I said, "What if I were?" (Being an English teacher, I see it as my civic and parenting duty to use correct grammar at all times, so yes, I really did say "were"). And he said...wait for it...

"You would get so TIRED flying all over the world picking up teeth and giving kids money every single night!" God, I love that kid.

The APA Pocket Handbook

Ah, the pain! My APA Pocket Handbook has been for sale on Amazon for about four months now, and I just got a one-star review! It cuts, let me tell you. All of those five star reviews are no salve for the burning I feel.

I usually consider myself good at taking criticism (especially when it's positive :0), but when it's directly connected to my livelihood, well, you can see how that would make it more difficult.

The Handbook has actually done pretty well so far (though it may not, after this), and the response has been positive. Personally, I think it would be helpful for my own Research Writing students, which is why I wrote it in the first place....

It turns out life is not all fairy tales and ice cream sundaes. Mom, how could you?

Check it out for yourself at: http://www.amazon.com/APA-Pocket-Handbook-Format-Documentation/dp/1933878134/ref=pd_bbs_sr_3?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1197326021&sr=8-3