Robert's Funeral

I just wanted to let you all know that I was able to go to Robert's funeral on our collective behalf. He would have been amused, I think, to see all the folks in his family sitting on the one side of the funeral home and all of the rest of us from different points of the compass sitting on the other. Lots of flowers, babies, memories, singing, laughing and crying. And his body in the center of it all with a very nice, grey three-button suit on.

He lived a very diverse life--if one that was much too short fo those of us left behind to mourn his death. His family requests that any donations that you would like to make in his honor should be given to the DeKalb County Hospice (AL).

He was a great man. We are blessed to have known him.

Saying Goodbye

Here's a new writing prompt: Saying Goodbye. I thought it might help us to have a place to write to Robert and to each other about our loss. Or people may want to write about any time they've had to say goodbye to a person, a situation, a place.

Robert Hyde

I have emailed the 2006 Summer Institute Fellows, but I wanted the larger community of Blackwater Writing Project, formerly South Georgia Writing Project, to know as well that we have a lost a valued member of our community. Robert Hyde, a French teacher at Coffee High School, passed away July 21, 2006. We missed him when he was hospitalized, and we miss him more now. I can still hear him saying, "Don't make me take off my belt!"

The funeral will be in Northern Alabama. I haven't heard of any local services or memorials, but I will get the word out if I do.

Getaways

Here's a new writing prompt: Getaways. Happy writing!

Celebrations

Here's a writing prompt for those of you going through freewriting withdrawal: Celebrations. We finished the Closing Ceremonies today. They went well, I thought. I've really enjoyed working with you. Perhaps consider responding to the prompt through a comment so that we can group them all today. Apparently, I'm Little Ms. Organization today.

Sunset at Jekyll Island

Sunset at Jekyll Island on a Summer Night
By Victoria English

Famous for its marshes
Grassy plains into tidal pools
Ebb and flow, the eternal motion of the sea.
When filled with water, fish, wildlife
Gives way to dry land, absences of life, waiting
To thrive once again.

The day was stifling hot
As summer days always are
On this small barrier island in the Atlantic
Off the southeast Georgia coast.

So hot you can see it.
Heat haze hanging limply in the air
Like the Spanish moss trapped
Motionless on a windless day.

Evening comes with its promise
Of a respite from the unrelenting sun.
Yields control of the sky to the moon
And in its parting wake bids a fiery adieu
In a breathtaking spray of color
Hidden by the day.

Light bends into its prismatic colors
Transforming a pale blue sky to a deep cerulean hue,
Crimson, magenta, and amber,
Promenade across the clouds once white
And with that flourish bids good night.

Dangerous Kids' Games

Hmm, David wants us to use an object around us to design a kids' game that might go horribly awry. I look around and see the following items:

• huge, plastic trash can
• easel
• big, round tables
• coffee mug
• laptop
• thumbtacks
• chairs
• salt and pepper shakers
• water fountain
• fake tree

Kids' game? Okay, I'm at a loss. I don't usually invent kids' games; that's Wes's domain. I just take kids to the hospital later--no, not really.

I flounder, wanting to invent a funny, scary game, but my mind refuses.

I check my watch: 9:15. Hmm, twenty to thirty minutes of writing time stretches before me. Hmm, what to write? I sip my coffee; it's lukewarm at best.

"Stop whining," I tell myself. Words usually flow during freewrite time. Not today. Today I sigh and look for ideas, for words, for humor, for cleverness, all of which elude me. Today skitters away, refusing to let me focus on it. I look beyond today, to tomorrow, to the closing ceremonies, to the luncheon, to fall semester when we try to keep the community going.

Here's my contribution to the community. I want to take charge of Write Nights by Blackwater Writing Project, one night a month when we gather and write, perhaps at Hildegard's if the music isn't too loud or maybe at Starbucks or The Daily Grind, somewhere comfortable to sit and write. Maybe we can move Write Nights from town to town to encourage more participation. Ooh, it would be cool to always do it somewhere with Internet access--Hildegard's has that. Then we can post the topic to the blog for the people who can't come to wherever we're holding it. I like that idea. Even if we move around from town to town, we should stay in Valdosta every other month since we have more Valdosta people in BWP than we have people in other towns. Also, I know that we have Internet acess in at least one place here.

What night would be best for Write Nights? I'd rather not do it on the weekend. It's a professional activity, so I'd like to schedule it during the week. Wednesday nights won't work. Monday nights people may be too stressed about the week ahead. Thursday nights might be the best nights, but I would have to miss it occasionally when I travel to conferences. I'm sure someone else would step forward to bring a writing prompt.

Okay, that's the plan: freewriting for one night a month. I'll double check what night is best, but it will be the second Thursday of every month or the first Thursday of every month--something like that. Yay! I have a plan.

Topic is strange today

I look around to see what objects are available for use in this entry. Tables, not too large or high, don't see much danger there. Crayons, glue, scissors, typical arts and crafts stuff found in any classroom.

Hmm, glue. Game called Twister. Never having played the real game I have a rudimentary idea of what occurs. I can imagine that when a person is on a color and another person lands there they must glue that body part. I don't think I can write this type of thing. This is why my teachers always said I could not write. I have no imagination. I think maybe I do it is just deeply hidden and inaccessible to me for now. My confidence as a writer needs to improve a lot more before I am willing to investigate the deeper recesses of my mind and discover the creatures lurking there.

I suppose Sean could make a game with razors. I remembered, last night, an oops I should have put down. Now I can think of a couple.

[Phillip -- shampoo bottle and lip]
[Sean -- razor and ears]
[Robert -- acorn and nose]

We don't need to create a dangerous game, kids find the danger willingly and frequently.

Hard to believe tomorrow is the last day. I am making a promise to myself to continue writing most days. Especially since my kids and nephews will have to write, it will be an incentive to us to begin the day on a reflective note, allow us to wake up fully before racing for the door and whatever else the day holds in store.

My portfolio is about done, just have one more page to slide in. Tonight, after I finish tutoring I need to go to the store for a couple things, mop is one, and then home to relax in a tub. Boil myself in bubbles and read for an hour or more with a cold glass of wine. About 10pm I will call Michelle. That is when she will be waking up to get ready for the airport. She is so nervous. I will worry about her till she stands in front of me. Maybe I should ask if she wants us to hold up a placard like visiting VIPs. The boys could make it tomorrow, what a great souvenier [sp] for the boys to take home, they can keep it with the journals they will be doing while here. I get to break that news to them. Michelle decided I am the teacher and will tell them in a way to make it fun. Have to see what Thursday morning brings. The journals are small, but I have more if needed. Think we will make a scrap book too, keep things like hotel brochures, or any other bits that grab the kids attention. Of course, the kids have to have one each for when they get older.

I am worried about the ladies I have been tutoring. Of the three, only one is really ready for the Praxis test this Saturday. Maybe they'll surprise me and theirself. Its been great working with them. They have a laugh but are serious about learning the skills for math. I think their reading and writing should carry them through, but the math trips a lot of us because we forget all the formulas and steps to complete a problem. Best of luck to them. They had better email me to le me know how it went.

Time to get more coffee and get ready for the sharing and daily log. It will be interesting to see what others came up with from the writing prompt.

Say cheese and smile..

Student-teacher differences

Jason's pop quiz today reminded me of a annual list about the experiences of incoming college freshmen. Check out this site: http://www.beloit.edu/~pubaff/mindset/

The college puts out a new list each year; it sometimes interests me to see how my experiences differ from those of my students.

Oops!

Hmm, I look at the title, also the topic, and stall, unsure what to write. I picked the topic, but no great ideas emerge in response. Instead, I think of uncompleted tasks:

• confirming final numbers for Wednesday's luncheon
• photocopying evaluation forms for NWP
• planning closing ceremonies
• finishing my reflective essay
• cleaning the house

I sigh, knowing it will all get done sometime.

"Oops! I did it again" should be my theme song, not the song by Spears, just the title. I go to Starbucks, sip my nonfat caramel mocha, and watch it drip onto my shirt. A classic Donna moment.

I sat down last night, opened my laptop, and decided to work on my reflective essay for the portfolio. Realizing I needed my portfolio, I looked for my bag in the laundry room. It wasn't there. I looked beside my favorite chair--not there. I checked the bedroom--not there. "It must be in my car," I thought. Nope. Crap! I must have left it in my office when I went in Saturday to advise incoming freshmen at orientation.

At 10:00 p.m. I didn't want to go to school, so I drafted the reflective letter without having access to my portfolio. Whoever reads my reflective piece today will be able to tell I wrote it cold.

Oops moments

• coffee spills
• weird sayings/transposed words/wrong words (My favorite: "Bring me a bowl of ketchup," I tell Wes, expecting and receiving a bowl of ice cream. Thank goodness he hears my intention as well as my expression.)

These moments should spill from my mind. I'm often clumsy and clueless, but my mind refuses to list any, protecting my self-image perhaps.

I shift from writing to reading as I check one more of Diana's descriptions of teaching demonstrations. She volunteered to create a list for us to distribute at the luncheon. It looks good. Back to the blog: I wonder how the blog will continue once the Institute ends, how often people will check it and post to it. We should plan a reunion for October. My mind scatters again, shooting in one direction, then another. I rein it in and decide to take a break.

OOPS!

I am thinking of Wednesday right now. It will be a hectic day but that s a good thing. It will stop me from thinking too much about any cleaning I did not get done.

I don't think I am a neat freak, have had people call me that. But I do like to know my house is clean before people visit. My sister is due to visit Wednesday. After we are done with class, I get to run home and leave for the airport. My one hope is that there are no opps at either of the stages in Michelle's travel.

Sean and Robert are so excited. For three weeks they will have family about. It will be unusual. My parents have visited before, but they rarely get to see cousins. Now there will be three of them to play with.

My mind is everywhere but on writing right now. I keep thinking of things I need to do at home. In reality I know that I have done everything. I am such a perfectionist at times. Maybe this is why I get things done ahead of time and then others say I am an overachiever. Hmmm! Thoughts to think about.

There are no connected pieces to this, just randomness scattered throughout what would be a page in a book. I wonder if the electrical pulses in my head are as random?

There is a lot of chatter today, class must be almost over. All of a sudden talk came up about age. I am dreading next year. My husband will be 50, what changes will he go through that I am not expecting? We all know women change and get grumpy, but not much is said about men. On top of that, his job will end and he has to search for a new one. At least, for a change, I will have a job with a steady check. Plus my job is one that will be transferable, albeit I might have to take another test.

What are the last two demos about? Those have been great to see and participate in. This whole summer institute has been a great experience. I will miss the group and sharing. Please find a way to have us meet up, Donna. Without the support of our fellows it will be rather lonely.

I just heard meatloaf. Is that food or singer? Again random thoughts.

My oldest nephew who will be visiting is Jake. He is 12, and has never been on a plane. He has a movie image of being able to walk around with all this space. He is full of questions too. Yesterday he wanted to know if he will have the mask that falls down when there is a problem, and can he play with it? What a trip that will be. Then the 2 year old, Amber, keeps asking if she is going on holiday yet, and when can she go on the heliplane. Charlie is 6 and much more serious. He asks about how things work, and worries about taking magazines on the plane for something to do. It will be good to finally get to know them better.

I think I am going to stop writing now. I need to look at some writing and edit. I wrote the draft of the demos and Donna has it to look at, but I need to look at it again and start on refining.

Bang head here

Hi all,
I hope your weekend is going better than mine. I just went to polish my reflective essay and discovered it's gone. Not on my desktop, not on my laptop, and not on my flashdrive. Bang head here. I wonder where I saved it to. It's flung into some folder on some drive somewhere in cybersapce. Repeat exercise: Bang head here, repeatedly.

Well at least I have the dark chocolate Reeses for Monday.
v.

CGWP Conference Proposal

Below is the supplemental material I'm providing for the Coastal Georgia Writing Project conference in case it helps any of you with your conference proposals. This conference limits you to 100 words. I'm printing it for my portfolio and also putting it into the mail today for the conference. I'll be glad to share a room with anyone else who plans to attend. Blackwater Writing Project will cover the registration fee for any of this summer's Fellows who present at the conference.

Title: Playing with the Ancients: Using Imitation to Stretch Students’ Style

Session Description:
Students sometimes struggle with style, following the subject-verb-object sentence construction they know. However, ancient rhetoric encouraged imitation to stretch students’ style. This workshop lets participants practice with imitation for stylistic purposes. Participants freewrite and share their initial reactions to imitation. The facilitator then reviews ancient rhetorical pedagogy, focused mostly on Corbett’s use of imitation. The facilitator leads teachers through a series of imitation exercises, each one slightly more difficult. These exercises encourage writers to experiment with style and improve their grammar and writing. Participants will receive multiple handouts containing sources and connections to Georgia Performance Standards.

Help?

If you have time, I'd love to receive some response to a new memoir I just posted on the e-anthology. It's called "Coffee Chaos." It's the piece I want to put into our print anthology, but I haven't gotten any feedback on it because it's a last-minute substitution. Thanks.

Cemetery -- Interesting Facts

Peter and Christy were given some information about the cemetery on Oak STreet. Copied and pasted below.

24 + 25 appear to be in the same space. Something about strange bedfellows comes to mind.
____________________________________________________________________

INTERESTING TOUR OF SUNSET HILL CEMETERY

Begin at the Mary Street Entrance

1. Hobart Baird Edwards, Sr., 1897—1959, Personal history on mausoleum, “World War I, Pres. Pro-tern of Georgia Senate, Mayor of Valdosta, Judge Recorders Court.
   Sec B108 Blk F-2 Lot 038
2. Nick Hyder, 1935-1996, Valdosta High School Football Coach.

Sec B205 Blk L-3 Lot 015

3. Hyta Plowden Mederer, 1912-1997, Valdosta clubwoman and local benifactress. When people want to see Hyta’s (Hyder’s grave, we have to ask, which
   one? They are buried near each other.
   Sec B203 Blk L-2 Lot 195
4. West Mausoleum, Col. William S. West (family), 1849—1914. Col. West built The Crescent and was United States Senator.
   Sec B204 Blk L-2 Lot 243

5. William Evan Thomas 1869-1944 going north, Superior Court Judge, was Solicitor in Raw1ings-Carte Murder Trial 1905—06.
Sec B205 Blk L-3 Lot 25

6. James Freeman Holmes, J north across main street, 1918- 1950, Coca-Cola Family, near Ann Street entry has Coke bottle embossed on headstone.
   Sec C202 Blk 005 Lot 076
7. Nearby is the Barfield lot with two graves, Eula Newton Barfield, Nov. 20, 1881 - Apr. 8, 1967 and Robert S. Barfield, Mar. 6, 1878 — June 5, 1949. On a cement bench, there is this inscription: “’neath this seat lie five infant Barfie1ds.” Thought to have been quintuplets born in 1906.
   Sec 203 Blk 075 Lot 009
8. Henry Sims Morgan, 1874-1898, going south same section, Morgan, in 1897, was first West Point graduate from Lowndes County, a six foot—four inch man, “a splendid specimen.” He drowned the next year trying to rescue Italian sailors of the ship, Noe, off Tybee Island, Georgia. His remains were not found for eight years. They were brought back to Valdosta for burial in. 1906.
   Sec C203 Blk 054 Lot 007
9. Lyn Davis McIntosh, Major, 1946—1980, further south beside main street USAF, killed May 23, 1980, in the attempt to rescue the American hostages in Iran.
   Sec C105 Blk 005 Lot 291
10. Alice Jane (McKey) Holliday, 1829-1866, a few yards in front of the cemetery office door, mother of John Henry “Doc” Holliday.
    Sec C307 Blk 007 Lot 015
11. Four bricked up graves, Charles Ogden Force and wife, Mary Ann, son Richard Sheffield “Dick” Force and daughter, Mary. Katherine “Kitty” Force) died 1865, Mr. Force gave the beginning property (30 acres) for cemetery, not called Sunset Hill Cemetery until 1918. Son Dick Force was killed; in a fight during Reconstruction Days in Valdosta.
    Sec C301 Blk 002 Lot 010. Charles 1823-1892,
12. Samuel McWhir Varnedoe, Veteran CSA, started first school in Valdosta after the War Between the States. The Valdosta Institute was originally on the corner of Varnedoe and River streets. Grave is near Force lot,
    Sec C303 Blk 003 Lot 001
13. James 0. Varnedoe, 1842-1927, nearby, was Mayor of Valdosta 1877-1878, and a Spanish American War Veteran.
    Sec C303 Blk 003 Lot 001
14. South corner of office - Philip Coleman Pendleton, 1812—1869, founder of The Valdosta Times. Major in the Confederate Army.
    Sec C305 Blk 005 Lot 002
15. William V Prewitte, 1919-1944, Memorial plaque attached to head stone, lost in action in World War II.
    Sec C305 Blk 005 Lot 009
16. Nearby north, Dr. T. W, Ellis, 1804-1861, thought to be the first person buried in Sunset Hill Cemetery.
    Sec C305 31k 005 Lot 004
17. Reuben Thompson, Roberds, 1834-1863, north on Collins lot, Memorial, Valdosta’s first mayor, 1860-61 died in the War Between the States.
    Sec 0306 Blk 006 Lot 007, Buried in Kentucky.
18. North between Martin and Strickland lots, Major Henry B. Holliday was mayor of Valdosta more than once. He was father of John Henry “Doc” Holliday. His second wife failed to mark his grave. It is possibly on or near the Stephen Martin lot, marked with memorial plaque about 1993.
    Sec 0307 Blk 007 Lot 015. (1819—1893)
19. Just north in prominent view is statue of B. F, Strickland on the family lot, 1854-1915. While most monuments face the East, he faces the west, they say, to the Cotton Mill he founded.
    Sec C313 Blk 013 Lot 004
20. Slave Section, see big monument nearby, roped off, no marked graves.
21. Hebrew Cemetery, nearby, see overhead entrance and columns, all market graves. Separate locations.
22. Next is south, old small obelisk for elephant trainer, James’ Rourke, who was killed by his female elephant. Gypsy, in November 1902. Gypsy was chased over downtown Valdosta streets out to Cherry Creek where was killed and buried.
    Sec C402 Blk 005 Lot 012
23. South again, near main street, Emory P. Bass Sr., 1891—1971, Mayor of Valdosta 1956-58, Veteran of World War I and World W II,
    Sec D101 Blk 005 Lot 004
24. John Taylor Roberts 1850—1920, east from Bass lot. Much progress made in Valdosta during his five terms as Mayor of Valdosta, 1906—1916. On large lot in
    Sec E11O Blk 007 Lot 001
25. Lt. Col. W. L. Redles, 1894-1.932, information on grave of wife, Leone Roberts Redles, 1895—1955. Lt. Col, Retired USMC, Interred in Arlington National Cemetery
    Sec E110 Blk 007 Lot 001
26. Spanish American War Veterans, many buried here, south from Roberts lot,
    Sec E106 Blk 032 Lots 3, 4, 5, and 6,
27. Graves of interest in the former Black section 3. L. and Fanny Lomax, Thomas Hudson, Chauncey Hudson, Eli Powell, the Melvin Nelson lot, Guy Bryant, Fessor and Easter Hampton, M- Section, Lamond Wilson’s mother is buried in G - Section. Lamond was in “Sanford and Son” now evangelist.
28. Joan Cranford Landsberg, l933 – 1997, and Paul (Paulovitch) not deceased, the “Russian Monument.” A family from Florida, Joan was a native Valdostan.
    Sec F208 Blk 093 Lot 001
29. Langdale Mausoleum, Judge Harley Langdale, northeast section of cemetery

Stories from books without words

I was thinking, dangerous thing that. Anyway, if you would let me make a copy of the story your group wrote for my demo, I could print a copy with the books information and give each fellow, (I like that word, in UK a fellow or fella is a guy), a copy.

Let me know.
Diana

Portfolio Requirements

Your portfolio must include copies of the following:

◊ Memoir

◊ Poem

◊ Grant Guidelines

◊ Grant Proposal/Application

◊ Conference Guidelines

◊ Conference Proposal

◊ Letter to Administrator

◊ Research Bibliography--Annotations (7 minimum). Either in APA or MLA citation format.

◊ Printed Responses to E-Anthology

◊ Copy of your Daily Log

◊ Copy of your Demo

◊ Reflective Letter:
A few ideas about the reflective letter: It can be a letter or an essay, whichever form works best for you. It should discuss your work in the Summer Institute, what you've done, and how you've developed as a writer and teacher. It should also discuss your plans for the upcoming year, what you plan to use as you return to the classroom and how you will modify it. Thus, you're doing two things: looking back over the Summer Institute and looking forward to the upcoming school year. You want to document the work you've done this summer but move beyond it as well. If you have questions, please email me or call me. I'll be glad to explain further. start gathering the materials for the portfolio now so that you're not overwhelmed when we return.

◊ Letter to Legislator (Optional)

◊ Demo Generated Writing Assignment (Optional)

◊ Release Form (for your writings and images)

◊ Electronic copies of everything (minus the responses to E-Anthology). CDs will be provided.

Marathon

Well I remembered the pictures but not the outswide writing. My shoes were so comfortable this morning, but they didn't protect my feet from ants or walking. The concrete under my feet felt so good. Smooth to rough, lined and ridged, cool under trees, but warming to the sun that reflects off it.

Cemeteries make me think of walking on Sunday afternoons. I would leave the house, bored and wanting something more than there was. A typical teenager in that respect. I would slowly walk through the quiet town. No one about. Shops closed, churches emptied, a newsagents the only place open. Wait, across the road, a cafe open. I'll stop in after my ramble. Continuing on, I wonder through the park, little kids swing higher and shriek for Mummies and Daddies to watch. Benches cradle old people sitting to watch. I walk among the paths and head out the other side. A church sits between the park and a flower shop. An old stone wall, crumbling and covered with mosses is open and inviting. Old trees crowd the ground and the sky, darkening the daylight to a dusk. Tiny pathways meander through the graves no new flowers, those at rest here have been gone for many years. Not just a few, ten, or twenty. Some for a hundred years ormore. Are their families still in this town? No one visits the lonely graves except kids to desecrate a memory that is no more.

The graveyard is off limits now, too dangerous. The stones topple and fall. People may get hurt. Too much to restore. A shame we did not care for them earlier. So much history lies in this one piece of ground. Dates alone might tell a story.

Writing Marathon

I sink into a chair at the library's Internet Cafe, enjoying the air conditioning after my stroll through the cemetery. While entering the cemetery, Christy and I noticed a tombstone for a woman. Her name was in small print, followed by "Wife of ______." We chuckled, then separated.

My eyes caught a familiar name, so I wandered closer to double check. I am sorry to report the death of Charlie Brown. I knew his creator had died, but I was unaware of Charlie Brown's demise. Perhaps we should write a eulogy. I wonder how it happened. Was it spontaneous combustion? Anger overwhelmed him as Lucy jerked the football away one time too many.

I eye the Coke machine. It eyes me back, flirting with me, calling me toward it. I resist temporarily, but decide to grab a bottle of Dasani water before I leave for Drexel Park for the next outdoor leg of the marathon. It's hot: sweat-dripping, forehead-dotting, back-trickling hot. "Please don't be butt-wet hot," I pray.

I think back to the cemetery and remember the leper grave. I'm not being disrespectful--or, at least, I don't mean to be. One grave sits in a sea of grass, no graves near it. I wonder why. It's an old grave. Why isn't it crowded? The man lived to be 84 years old. The tombstone mentions he's a father, but no family members rest beside him. A mystery. Mysteries engage me. I want to know more.

Next year perhaps we'll do the writing marathon the first week. Or maybe we'll do it by car. I'll ask folks what they think. What do y'all think? Let me know. It also seems better to do it early in the Summer Institute when we're still in discovery mode, more focused on freewriting, on getting stuff onto the page. Now we're more into editing mode as we try to pull together our portfolios, polishing our drafts.

Ten minutes remain. The glass on the Coke machine door glints at me, trying to entice me. I'm still hot. Maybe I should go visit over there.

Recipe

Lindsi,
Have you posted the recipe for Gorilla Bread and I missed it? I hope not. (I am blogging this because I'm afraid I'll forget to ask tomorrow in class.) Thanks! See you tomorrow!

Picture Day

I just wanted to remind you that Thursday is picture day and writing marathon day. We'll meet promptly at 9:00 (8:45 is even better) in our regular room for a quick breakfast by Chef Jason. Then we'll head to Mirage Studios for a group photo and headshots. Mirage Studios is at 112 N. Patterson St. There's a big parking lot in back off of Toombs Street. The studio is upstairs from Sublime Hair Salon, a big silver building.

After headshots, we'll return to campus to start our writing marathon. It should be fun. Wear comfortable walking shoes.

I hope you had a great holiday. See you tomorrow.

Happy 4th

Have a happy and safe 4th July. See you all on Thursday.