“Excuse me, I am not fibbing!”

I am back from a vacation on Oak Island, North Carolina, with my wife, Marilyn.  We had a great time, even though it was colder than usual. We took lots of sunset shots. The one at the top was probably our best photo of all of them.  Once you step out of your comfort zone (as in your recliner or rocker), all sorts of wonderful and strange things can happen. Like what?

I attended a book signing where an author, Marianne Smith, shared some of her thoughts on “coming of age” during the Hitler Regime…At the local golf course I met up with a good number of mud turtles and three or four alligators that were about four feet in length. My golf balls seem to be attracted to ponds and sand traps. I visit them frequently. There were no warnings posted about alligators being loose on the course. Of course, the alligators were only interested in sunning themselves, not tasting a northerner…On the way home, we saw what looked like a collapsed tan box on the middle of the highway. As we came closer and closer to this brown miniature pyramid, we suddenly realized that it was a large deer sitting in the sun. I thought it was dead. It wasn’t moving. I couldn’t look at its face. As soon as we passed it, Marilyn screamed, “It’s alive!” I guess it was on Prozac because I never saw it move in my rearview mirror…I played 15 games of golf on four different courses…I ate more fish than usual. I think that I have developed a few scales on my legs…We made new friends, Phyllis and George, who live fulltime across from the beach house we rented. They became our tour guides for Oak Island and beyond. They taught us about photography, golf, and friendship…While we were down there, we had a snowstorm.  I have photos of the snowstorm… “Excuse me, I am not fibbing!” 
Photos can be seen here: http://www.consideration.org/sottile/photos/2010mar/last-seen.html

10 Tips on Giving and More

“There is no happiness in having or getting, but only in giving.” ~ Henry Drummond

A poet gives words a place on a page or electronic screen; he or she captures a moment of sunshine or pain; laughter or seriousness; clarity or mysteriousness; simplicity or complexity; mind or heart; funny bone, or a piece of the soul. A poet gives. So, if you’re a poet, live your passion, and…


1. Give.


2. Give more.


3. Give even more.


4. Give even more than that.


5. Give when you don’t want to.


6. Give when you do.


7. Give when you have something to say.


8. Give when you don’t.


9. Give every day.


10. Keep giving.


(My apologies to Brian Clark who wrote 10 tips something just like this on another topic.)

The Book Festival (Part Two) Bookworm Place

When I walked into One Busy Bookworm Place, it was just that--busy, busy busy at various round tables. I thought perhaps I had already missed the bus, but it the back of the room there was rectangular table put together in the shape of an "L". And I was escorted to that area. I declined using a microphone, and I plugged in my "poetry performance" voice. About 12-15 kids were soon tearing one piece of paper into four smaller sheets to write a mini-version of "Truths and Lies." Kids always take the tearing of the paper very very seriously. I have to warn them not to worry about how rectangular the slabs of paper look. But there is a part of me that enjoys how serious they look about the easiest part of their creation.

We then wrote about what we "want" and what we "love." The kids did it willingly, wondering what I would ask next. They now had two good poetry lines expressing their feeling and both started with "I". I told that they had just written a piece of "non-fiction"--that is, "non-false" writing. And poets and writers do that all the time, but the real fun is writing "fiction"--lies. I reassured the group that fiction writers do that all the time. So, consequently, it was okay for them to do that today. All of a sudden fireworks were going off in their eyes and they started writing as fast as they could. It was fun to lie about something that they really didn't want or love. Then they placed their one sentence slabs of paper in any order that they liked to complete their poems. Now they were two-thirds through with the poetry workshop. The best part was saved for last.

I said something like this, "The best part of writing a poem is sharing it with others. Who wants to be the first one to read your poem. Remember you're SAFE! Nobody knows for sure what lines are true or false--unless you tell them. " I immediately was rewarded with some brave souls willing to share their slant on the world, and I had five minutes left to let as many as possible share. How did I know for sure how much time I had left? A volunteer walked by with a sign saying "You have 5 more minutes...and then the Earth will split open and you will fall into molten lava." Okay, I am kidding about the last part of  the sign. I just wanted to see if you were paying attention. What follows are my young poets sharing their poems, and I was rather proud of them for being brave poets. They were execellent at sharing their poems. And it was fun working with them. On this sunny day they were sharing their own inner light.

Don't these kids look confident and proud? They did a wonderful job writing and performing their poetry. All I can say or scream is "BRAVO! BRAVO! BRAVO!"

And thank you to Natisha LaPierre for being there to help.