Silence of Screens

This morning I stopped at The Blue Moon for a coffee, a Pooh Bear latte (part of my yearly summer challenge to drink their specialty coffees). My youngest daughter got a breakfast sandwich. We sat on the couch, chatted a little about the rest of the day. But we were mostly quiet, partly because she was hungry (just got done with morning weights) and I was people watching.

The Blue Moon is a hot spot for the older generation to gather and chat while enjoying a coffee. Every morning you can find tables brought together and groups of people talking, laughing, just enjoying the fellowship of friends.  The afternoons are more subdued, that is when I try to go and write.

This morning there were about 10 older ladies at a table beside us. Conversations flying. Across the sitting area was a young boy, probably about 10 or 11 years old. He was by himself, I figure he was a grandson and tagged along with his grandmother. He had an empty juice bottle and some crumbled up napkins on the table. But what struck me was how he was just sitting there with an iPad in front of him, the volume loud enough I could hear it, but could not catch everything that was on the screen. And he didn’t move, at all. His face was illuminated by the screen. I watched as different colors shifted on his face.

Now, I know that a young boy may not feel comfortable talking with a group of older women, I get that. Besides the idea of reading or coloring or doing something active, he was silent and did not move at all. His silence struck me,  I see the way screens silence people, even in my classroom and even my home.

Let’s throw in AI just for the fun of it… Open AI just released GPT-Live which will listen and talk to you in real time. A quote from them, “We’re launching GPT‑Live, a new generation of voice models that make talking with AI feel much more like having a real conversation.”

I’m going to let this sit for a second…

I always wondered why the cool advancements in technology always seemed to correlate to making technology more human.

And now technology wants to silence you even more to other humans. 

Yesterday we (my wife and three youngest daughters) went to Lincoln to get new tennis rackets, had lunch together, and visited the children’s zoo. Yes, we had phones, taking pictures and sharing some of them on our family group chat. We even rode the little train around the zoo. My two oldest boys added a few comments about the memories they had of the train and the zoo when they were little.  We talked at lunch and had fun getting new tennis rackets for my two middle daughters (one chose some crazy colors for her strings).

As a dad it was a great day, it was filled with smiles, conversation, and laughter.

At the moment my house is pretty silent… and yes, we are all on screens. I am writing this blog post, I can’t see the screens of my daughters, but it is the classic position; phone in hand, face blank. My wife is working on her computer. The house is silent.

I am not against technology. I am concerned about its ability to silence us in lots of different ways, and what that will cost us as a society, as a person.

I would rather enjoy my coffee in the middle of the noise of people enjoying fellowship, then sipping on it in silence, screen illuminating my blank eyes.

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5 Albums I Can’t Live Without: Album 3

People don’t really believe me when I say I have a wide range of musical genres that I like. They don’t believe that I listen to Jazz, Rap, or Barry Manilow. This is the case regarding the artist for album three, Kirk Whalum and his album, In This Life.

Now I know this album has guest singers, but Kirk has his moments in every song, his saxophone playing elevates the voices in those songs. This album is an emotional experience. I used to play it during study time in my classroom when I first started teaching, and even had a few students who became fans of Kirk Whalum. That says something that teenagers loved this album, too.

The opening title track, “In This Life” is a powerful reflection on love. The kind of love that we hope for, the kind that stands strong through the hardships and wrongs we have received or done in life.

Now love is a theme for this album, and I am a sucker for any type of love song, but track two is a unique but truthful look at our desire to find love. The cover of “‘Til I Get It Right” is sung by the known jazz and soul singer, Vaneese Thomas. She is perfect for this song. You feel the hopeful hurt when she sings, “So I’ll just keep on fallin’ in love ’til I get it right.”

Not every song on this album has vocals. “Peaceful Hideaway” is the first instrumental piece and it does carry the listener away from the world and softens the hurt or worries they might have.

“Living For The City” is a wonderful instrumental piece, it brings up the energy of the album. It is joyful in its expressions and you can’t help but nod your head a little to it.

Heartbreak is hard to deal with, even with time. “When The Night Rolls In” is a truthful look at how time doesn’t always heal our hearts. It is so real in its theme, I just sing along, remembering the times I felt like this.

After 28 years of marriage, I understand the song, “The Way I Need You Now,” on a different level. “No, the way I need you now / Is gonna take our faith, it’s gonna take our honesty / There’s so much waiting for us” is a powerful aspect of a relationship as it changes, as it grows. This song hits so much harder for me now.

I have a number of albums of Kirk Whalum’s, but In This Life, hits my soft spot for love songs but is also a wonderful listening experience as I get lost in his saxophone.

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5 Albums I Can’t Live Without: Album 2

The rule that I could only choose one album per artist makes for a unique challenge for me. Many of my favorite bands have a number of albums I love. But the idea, too, that I couldn’t live without it helps, especially with the artist for album 2; Tears For Fears and their album The Seeds of Love.

This selection is also an example of connecting to an album the more you listen to it. How an album can age well, like wine. I remember not being blown away by the album in 1989, but I was a senior in high school, getting ready for college, all that stuff. Honestly, I didn’t really get into the album until after college. And I think part of the reason is because of the depth of themes of the songs, as a teenager I didn’t really connect to them like I could after growing up some and experiencing life.

The album starts with what I feel is one of the saddest songs of all time, “Women in Chains.” Because this post is about the music, I’m going to let the song speak for itself. 

The second song on the album is “Badman’s Song” and I love when it comes on my playlist while I’m walking. The backstory is that during the tour for The Hurting, Roland Orzabal overheard some of the band members talking bad about him. The third line seems to indicate the hotel room they were in, “Well here’s to the boys back in 628.”

But I love the musical trip the song takes me on, and the underlying idea of hope for the badman. The references of faith and life lift my heart.

Many of the songs on the album run over five minutes, yet the songs don’t drag. “Swords and Knives” runs just over 6 minutes and is heavy with instrumental movements that create the perfect accompaniment to the theme of the song about violence in the world. And it transitions into one of my favorite songs of all time, “Year of the Knife.”

The track is high energy, and for me, poetic. I love the lines, “They say his famous final words / Came from the heart of man.” Plus the symbolism of love as a knife, played against the “young gun” is cool.

I’ve written about the final track, “Famous Last Words” in the post “Thank You, Tears For Fears” during the COVID pandemic. The track is a perfect ending to a great album. I love the thread of love throughout the album and the depth of the songs. This is an example of how music can grow with us, if we keep listening.

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5 Albums I Can’t Live Without: Album 1

Spin magazine does a cool “5 Albums I Can’t Live Without” series. And for my faithful readers you know I love writing music based blog posts. I will be honest, I have been thinking about my 5 albums for almost a month now. Trying to figure out if I should include soundtracks, greatest hit collections, and what makes a great album for me. Also, do I only choose one album per artist? (Yeah, I could pick a number of Prince albums.)

So, here are my guidelines for the 5 albums I can’t live without. One album per artist. No soundtracks with various artists. No greatest hits collections. And I have to like the whole album, meaning no song would ever be skipped. So here we go… and in no particular order.

Album number one is Blind to Reason by Grayson Hugh.

The song “Talk it Over” was on heavy rotation for VH1 in 1988.  But his second release from the album, “Bring It All Back” hooked me and I traveled to Casper to buy the CD and I have been listening to his music ever since. 

The first song on the album, “Romantic Heart” is easy to sing along too, but the lyrics hit with just the right mix of positivity and dreamer ideology. Perfect for my heart.

“Bring It All Back” is a great love song. Grayson’s song writing is fused with some great descriptions, many times with nature at the center. The second verse in this song is a perfect example of his skills, 

When the falling leaves are filled with rain

Oh, you heart it calls to me

Say when will I see you again

And the wind will answer me

But not all his songs are centered on romantic relationships. “Finally Found a Friend” is a hidden gem on this album. Grayson hits a deep nerve of our loneliness that can only be tempered by friendship. And by the end of the song, your soul is singing and reeling in thoughts of people you love.

The final song, “Empty As the Wind,” is on my writing playlist. This song highlights Grayson’s depth of subject and use of nature to highlight the theme of the song. I turn to this song at times when I am feeling blue.

Grayson Hugh’s Blind to Reason is a wonderful journey musically and lyrically. Even when he is singing about the troubles of love or life, my soul is lifted by his songs.

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A Thousand Blueberry Muffins

I am only a few months away from turning 55. 

I have 21 years left if I live to the national age of death.

That means I have 1,092 batches of blueberry muffins left.

Time can be measured in so many different ways. Our lives are filled with milestones, beginnings and endings. At times our lives seem so routine, while at other times it feels like chaos rules. We feel anger. We laugh. There is pain and discovery. There is life.

But time moves forward. In two years I will have only one child left living at home, and less than a thousand batches of blueberry muffins to make. 

Honestly, as I consider these upcoming milestones, I am sad, reflective, and grateful that I have built a tradition that my life, my children’s life, could anchor to in good and troubled times. No matter what time has in store for me, for my family, we have at least 1,092 batches of blueberry muffins to enjoy.

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What of a Front Door?

I took my daily walk pretty early this morning. The air still held the smell and coolness of the rain storm last night. The streets in my neighborhood were empty except for a lawn care crew I would pass later in my walk.

As it happens on my walks I started to think about things, I was running through the appointments I needed to make on Monday. I then thought I should see when my dad was free this summer so I could coordinate a visit. That took me to thoughts of my mom (who passed away June 9, 2023). I happened to look at the house on my left. There was a wood door hanger with a summer design. I smiled as I thought my mom would have liked the front door.

In the past, when my parents would visit us, we would always take a walk together. They would comment on the front doors (and the trees, but that is for another post). My parents enjoyed looking at the designs and decorations of front doors.  My mom especially liked front doors that were bold in color. 

So, in her honor I paid attention to the front doors on my walk. There were doors with cool etched glass, front doors with no sidelights, one sidelight, and matching sidelights. There was a house with a lime green front door. My mom would have liked that. Other doors had summer wreaths, or had accent decorations like wooden planks with ‘Welcome’ painted on it leaning against the wall. We have a flower wooden hanger, even.

There were no two doors alike in my neighborhood. Paying attention to the doors was fun, and brought back memories of my parents. Of the walks we would take after Thanksgiving dinners, or the first time they visited a new home when we moved. 

But what of a front door? 

My wife has a wooden hanger for each season that we place on our front door (and take off during storms because it knocks against the door). Our front doors are a small message to the world about who we are. If we are welcoming, if we are simple or grand in our approach. Bold colors, glass etchings, other accent decorations reveal at least a little something about our home, about us to the world outside.

This morning, I paid attention to the front doors of my neighbors, and I think, understood my parents a little more. Of course looking back it is easier to see things, but they were always welcoming to people, and one of them was me. I know I was blessed to have them open their front door to a lost and troubled 16 year-old.

What of a front door? It is the way home.

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Good Fences and Good Neighbors

I would grab a cup of coffee or tea, this blog post is going to take a little time and try to connect some interesting dots… no, go ahead, I’ll wait…

OK, so the dots I am going to connect range from poetry, real life fact, and AI / technology.

First, Robert Frost’s poem “Mending Wall”. This is one of his most ironic poems. The depth of what is written and what is meant, or at least what a reader might even believe, is extraordinary. And that ambiguity hits the reader in classic Frost style with the ending.

If you’ve never read the poem, follow the link before reading further… really, I’ll wait.

I could (and maybe I should) write an analysis post about this poem, but I want to get to the heart of this dot I want to connect to other moments and the theme of this post. The plot of the poem is simple: Robert Frost and his neighbor meet to repair the stone fence that separates their land. This is a yearly event. One of the major themes is emphasized at the end of the poem, “He says again, ‘Good fences make good neighbors.’”

Dot two: My neighbor is building a fence.

Back to the poem and what the line “Good fences make good neighbors” might mean. The word choice is important, ‘Good fences’ and ‘good neighbors’. An important point to remember is that they are working together to mend the stone fence (also described as a wall in the poem). It is important because it highlights the balance of them living their separate lives, yet maintaining a neighborly relationship. In fact in the poem it states that Robert Frost contacts his neighbor about the day to repair the wall. 

It is clear from reading the poem that they are not friends, but they are respectful, even if Robert Frost fails at getting to a deeper conversation with his neighbor. (I understand that, “Let’s Not Talk about the Weather.”) They are at least ‘good neighbors’.

Back to dot two. Our neighbors have been in the house less than a year. Most of our backyards meet. The fence will separate their yard from ours. I have never spoken to them. We have acknowledged each other while mowing or out gardening with a smile or a head nod. I do not know why they are building the fence. 

Is it a good fence? Not sure.

I do recognize that I am not a good neighbor in the classical sense.

Which brings us to dot three.

Technology / AI and its effect on the idea of a good neighbor.

Part of the draw of technology, of social media, of even AI, is that it was supposed to break down the physical and personal walls of our lives. We could find community anywhere in the world. We could share ideas, our art, our hobbies, share ourselves to the world. And it can do that. I have people on X (the app formally known as Twitter) that would be good friends in real life. But I’ve never met them in person.

The ironic aspect is that the idea was no barriers, no walls, no fences… but that is not how the internet works. We have different fences, and I’m not sure they are ‘good’. We can live behind fictional handles / accounts. Now with AI, we can automate our very existence. Let it write or respond to email, let AI post on Instagram as us, or to a fictional account we create.

Sadly we are fencing ourselves in by not being ourselves, by letting ChatGPT think for us, by removing any of the work it takes to discover our talents. Even what we are not good at is an important step in becoming who we are. Technology is not a good fence. Being a good neighbor is about understanding who we are through our successes and struggles. Learning what is valuable to our souls. To understand that our neighbors are people who are trying their best to live their lives.

I do wonder why my neighbor is building a fence. Robert Frost’s poem delves into deeper themes (that I might just write more about) of this life. And I am using technology now with this blog post, but my goal is be a good neighbor for you reader, as you work on living on your side of this fence.

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My Poetic Philosophy

I love April. Even though life is busy with teaching, coaching, and just general dadlife, the challenge of writing a poem every day brings a welcomed level of stress. My students know I am a poet, and have asked to hear some of the poetry. I have also had the opportunity to just talk about poetry and creativity with them.

Today, I wrote a poem that was inspired by my walk. I had already composed and shared my poem for the prompt today (which was ‘home’ – you can read it on my X feed). As I reworked a section of the poem, I felt like the poem represented my basic philosophy of poetry. Now, I have written all kinds of poetry, have written in over 100 different forms, but since I have shared my creative process a number of times in the last year, I thought it would be fun to share this poem and explain how it fits my general philosophy of poetry.

Some background first. Some info from the poets I admire.

Robert Frost, states in the preface “The Figure a Poem Makes” that a poem should start in delight but end in wisdom. Later he expands on the point, highlighting how the wisdom is not always grand but the simple depth of living, that a poem “ends in a clarification of life.” If you are a faithful reader of my poems (and even my blog posts) you can see this revelation at the end of many of my works.

Langston Hughes is my favorite poet, and most people don’t know that early in his career he was criticized for what makes his work loved now, the reality of life. Lifting up the working class and street people of Harlem. And bringing them into the discussion of the social issues of our nation. But he also threaded a spiritual aspect into his work. Langston once said that poetry was “the human soul, squeezed like a lemon…” I do not write a lot about social issues, but I do try to squeeze my soul until it forms a poem on the page.

I am also a fan of the Romantic Poets, Wordsworth, Keats, Shelly and the likes. Nature and the common life were driving forces for their poetry, and mine. Which brings me to today. After my walk I sat down on my front step and jotted down the first draft of the following poem (which is presented in its final version).

“April 11, 2026”

The battle between seasons

is taking place on lawns,

yellow brown grass fights for ground

against lush green blades 

that are backed up

by bright yellow dandelions.

The air smells of a rain waiting,

a tint of mildew,

heavy and sweet.

While the wind blows 

its war horn

from the north,

cold and biting. 

Warning that freezing storms

are still possible.

The sky a grey blanket

with no seems to be seen.

And I am walking through

the middle of it all.

My heart holds on to winter,

while my mind yearns

for the thaw of spring.

A war between seasons

for the right to call

this day theirs.

This poem, I think, represents my voice well. The first stanza is a picture of the day during my walk. Revealing the tension of the weather during the days between the seasons. There is beauty in nature, a power that touches our souls, no matter what the weather is.

Then in the second stanza I squeezed my soul. Revealed a spiritual tension that I hope connects with the reader. A wisdom that they can read and then say, “I understand that feeling, too.” And with that inspiration to highlight the richness of our everydayness, I used the date.

The one aspect of the poem that is missing from my style is the use of a poetic form. Which I played with the idea, but the poem felt truer as a free verse based poem. And I am learning to trust my poetic instincts.

I hope you enjoyed the new poem and getting to know me a little more as a poet as I shared my poetic philosophy. Here is to a great rest of April and all the poems I will write.

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The Backstory to an April Poem

April is National Poetry Month, and many poets write a poem everyday. I am one of those poets. I use the prompt provided on the Writer’s Digest site. I read the prompt in the morning. Let it sit for a while and then find time to write the poem. During that time I also consider different poetic forms to use. I have written three poems so far in forms I’ve never used before. I like using this month to work on my skill set and to experiment a little.

I wrote a poem yesterday (April 7) that I really like. And writing the poem has backstory that highlights the creative process.

The prompt for April 7 was a Two for Tuesday situation: Dawn or/and Dusk. Robert Lee Brewer is the editor for the poetry section for Writer’s Digest. He is the one that provides the prompts, and Tuesdays have always been a double sided prompt.

My first reaction was actually lackluster. Nothing really jumped out at me while I had my morning coffee. I also knew that I would be helping monitor a room for the ACT yesterday. Our school administers the ACT for our juniors every year. My only job is to walk around and make sure ovals are filled in correctly, handle any questions. I don’t even say anything regarding instructions. 

As the testing got started I was not thinking about the prompt, instead I had this idea in my mind from a book I recently read, Birds Art Life: A Year of Observation by Kyo Maclear. She ends a chapter with a line about how there is never a day without birds.

As I walked around the room (I walked over 10,000 steps during the ACT) a poem started to take root. During the break I grabbed a piece of paper and got the ideas down. During instructions and the small break I made notes or added lines.

Because I felt like I had different ideas that still connected, I made the poem into a four part work. I was excited to sit down after track practice to write it and share to the community of poets on the Writer’s Digest site (and other social media).

After dinner I announced I would be writing my poem. The family is used to these kind of announcements, it is just our fun way of letting me have time to write. I grabbed my computer, my headphones, and no poem. I searched my computer bag again. I swore I placed the rough draft in my bag. Nothing.

I almost drove back out to school to get it, but I decided to trust my memory and write the next draft. When I got to school this morning, I checked the final draft to the rough draft, it was almost the same poem. There was a line or two that I changed or added but I would have done that anyway. Second (third, fourth…) drafts always have a change, that is the fun part of writing. Trying to bridge the muse with the audience.

Maybe because the poem took extra work, had extra stress, I like this poem. And with that, here is my dawn / dusk poem:

“Days”

Part I

There are days without snow,

and rain.

Days without sun, friends, and

even clouds.

But there is never a day without birds,

their songs perched on limbs and wires.

Part II

Dawn and dusk

are perfectly imperfect examples

of the way our lives revolve.

Like children

running on grass and blacktops

in a never ending game of tag.

Dusk’s speed of foot gives us

more time to star gaze,

other days Dawn’s endurance

allows us to play

under the sun longer.

Neither of them seem

to care to win the game.

Part III

We are children, too.

Playing tag with our days.

Running toward hopes

and aspirations.

Running from heartache

or doubt.

But we stumble,

scrape our knees on the concrete,

get tagged by despair,

cringing as it yells,

“You’re it!”

With lungs burning

we find ourselves running, again.

Tears warping our vision.

Part IV

But there is always the birds

with their songs

strumming our heartstrings 

reminding us what these days

are really for.

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Walk in My Shoes

On Aug 17, 2025, I got a new pair of shoes for walking.

I had an idea to wear them only for walking and to record my steps after each walk. I was going to try to make it a year, but due to different circumstances, I made it to the end of this month, 8 months total. 

I walked a total of 549051 steps… 245 miles.

We all know the idiom, “Walk a mile in their / my shoes” as a reference to understanding someone. I took notes sometimes after a walk. During these last 8 months, I had a colleague lose two of their grandchildren in a car accident. My oldest son got married. I walked on Halloween but didn’t get to walk with my youngest daughter on her last trick-or-treat trip, she was at a friend’s house. 

I walked through hundreds of grasshoppers in August. I walked in the school on nights when my daughter had musical practice. I walked on a 65 degree day in February. I took notes for poems, some that are still notes. I walked on Christmas day, reflecting on family and how time was moving so fast.

The miles simply represent my life, as they would for you.

As I totaled the steps, I noticed something interesting. No matter what the day, or the route I took (I have a couple of routes I walk in the neighborhood), no day ever had the same number of steps. Ever.

So no matter how many times I took my ‘medium route’ in the neighborhood, the step count was different.

I understand there are a number of reasons for the differences, but that proves the point that even in the routine of our life, each day is different. Has a different step count because of the smallest changes to how we walked through the day. How we lived that day.

Maybe to understand ourselves better we should pay attention to how we walk in our own shoes.

And so my idea for this blog post comes to an end as I transfer the shoes to work shoes.

But, I did get a new pair of walking shoes… 

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