Laughing and Learning with Communication Expert Amy Castro

Communication expert Amy Castro presented a 90 minute workshop entitled Communication Skills for Getting Along and Getting Things Done at the Friendswood Public Library. During the presentation, Amy shared some of her favorite communication skills from her book, “Practical Communication: 25 Tips, Tools, and Techniques for Getting Along and Getting Things Done.” Her book will soon be available for check out at the Friendswood Public Library. And look for Amy Castro to return for another communication workshop in May.

3 Poems by Net Poet Society poet John Milkereit

  

John Milkereit is a creative thinker and citizen of the world. He began writing poetry after taking a seminar on the poetry of Billy Collins in 2005 at his local church. His poems have appeared in Harbinger Asylum, Swirl, Poetry Revolt, the Texas Poetry Calendar and has been a juried poet at the Houston Poetry Fest, and the Austin International Poetry Festival. He also recorded several of his poems at Taping for the Blind. Pudding House Press published two of his chapbooks last year, and Paying Admissions was a Finalist-of Note in their 2009 chapbook competition. He is currently taking an acting class so he can memorize and perform some of his work in front of loud, boisterous audiences. During the day, he is a rotating equipment specialist at a Houston engineering firm.

John Milkereit will be reading his poetry with Net Poets Society at the Friendswood Public Library on Wednesday, April 4th, 2012 at 7pm.

Love Poem

                            Poetry is…great for getting phone numbers --Wynton Marsalis

I would rather just make you a phone. Endless minutes

with a ring tone of that rescued kitten. Why don’t

I make you a phone that you can’t put down, which

also jams other callers. Why don’t I wear you a hard hat?

Calloused hands that want to help—handyman hands,

which make concertos of insurance and retirement

funds. Why don’t I wake up with a dirty hard hat

that gets an orchestra on coffee? Why don’t I wash

your dishes? Get Palmolive cleaning your losses, dry

tears, and laundry. Why don’t I make you silence?

Knowing when to say nothing, getting into jeans

and work boots to dig quiet holes. Why don’t I fill up

your noisy chambers with jars of pennies, saved-up

so your heart won’t wash that away, your mind

would dial me like a phone. Go ahead and ask if I

cook. I would make you tuna salad, chicken salad,

or even your favorite—egg salad. So now, look what

I’m getting you. How can you hate me?

--John Milkereit

Rotating Equipment Engineer

A rotating equipment engineer ought to land in a poem

because I love the surprise of him

entering a dimly-lit hallway

with his sack lunch

ready to say no to someone.

I enjoy his negating self, his I-don’t-build-anything

kind of job description.

What he actually does is a mystery.

One morning, his glasses could reflect from a computer screen

a motor data sheet or the news that a volcano erupted in Indonesia—

you would never know for sure. I’d want as many turns

in the poem as the pumps he specifies. Words and shafts

are traitors and dirty when the start button is pressed.

Parts spin out of control, taking limbs off their operators.

I reminisce about the days when he made more money

than a doctor, when building factories was a revolution.

His metal is so much like the sentence that takes so long

to get poured, and welded, and bolted into its shape.

Why not turn the result

over to the rulers of the world?

With a red pen mounted on his keyboard, he always waits,

ready to reject a test.

He can fly to a factory in a pair of steel-toed boots

to witness what is ready to ship. No matter what he calculates,

or whatever tools are hidden in his pocket, he is never finished.

--John Milkereit

Upon Hearing That the Poetry Festival Lost My Poem Titles for Their Anthology

and where exactly did they go?

Monkeys in the jungle who swing

high above your submission process

would know rather than the greased

pigs. Since you’re the red-faced web

guru who lost the titles, can you say

if the titles were caught in an ocean

by the jaws of a novel? Did they sneak

home with someone else, or do their

coats no longer fit? Are their hats too

worn and tired? I want to know if they

went up in a hot air balloon to lift

a child I don’t know. Surely they would

have announced any rowdiness or

jealousy. I demand notification if they

fled to a courthouse to change their words

and wished to relocate. They have not escaped

abuse because there has never been abuse.

If they fell from this rollercoaster ride

called Poetry, then it’s their own fault,

and who knows where they landed.

The ferris-wheel operator would know

if they lingered a little longer to kiss

while you weren’t looking. I want to know

of lost keys. I want reassurance that your

volunteers always had money for spotlight

batteries. If the titles were stolen like license

plates, surely, you issued an A.P.B. I want

to know you asked the cyberspace reception

lady at the front desk. You had better find

the titles—I’m near the end of a book

whose title I don’t remember.

--John Milkereit

Read more poems by John Milkereit:

Geisha
Folk Song
Because you requested poetry about Jimi Hendrix and eggplant
Disgruntled Tree
Reminiscing About Matchsticks
Gumbo Season
If We Lived at Sarah Oppenheimer's D-17

Watch John Milkereit read:
Blues Song & Madison Park
American Gothic

The Red Shoes by essayist and poet Barbara Carle

Barbara Ann Carle is a poet and personal essay writer.  Her poems have been published by Maps of Austin, Sol Magazine and Gulf Coast Poets.  In 2008 her poem “The Battle” won the Ted O. Badger Award.    She has recently completed her first chapbook, “New York Rhapsody”, a collection of poems about growing up in New York City during and just following World War II. 

Barbara’s personal essays have been published in “Chicken Soup for the Chocolate Lovers’ Soul”, “The Democrat’s Soul”, “The Republican’s Soul” and the anthology “Thanksgiving to Christmas, a Patchwork of Stories.”  Her latest essay “A Promise to Keep” was published in the anthology “Fearless Nest”.     

She is a member of the Gulf Coast Poets, the Poetry Society of Texas, the Bay Area Writers League, the Spectrum Center Writers’ Guild and Women in the Visual and Literary Arts.  Barbara is the mother of four and grandmother of six.   She resides in Friendswood, Texas with her husband, Ed.

The Red Shoes

By Barbara Ann Carle

My mother had many great qualities.  Unfortunately allowing others to make their own decisions was not one of them.  She was a firm believer in the “Mother knows best” theory. 

            When I was 12 years old, I picked out a beautiful navy blue suit to wear on Easter Sunday.  My mother announced that we would take a trip into Manhattan on Saturday to look for accessories.  Of course, New Yorkers never call it Manhattan.  To us it’s always “the city”, but a trip to the city was an unbelievable treat.  We always spent the whole day and were required to wear our very best clothes.  I chose to wear my green and black plaid skirt and my green sweater.  My mother was decked out in her favorite rust color gabardine dress, brown high heels and silk stockings with the seam up the back that she miraculously always kept perfectly straight.

            I was always fascinated with my mother’s coloring.  She had long; dark brown hair that she would upsweep into two intricate rolls, a style called a pompadour.   She was tall, slim and had large expressive eyes the color of dark chocolate.  My sister and I looked nothing like her, having inherited my Dad’s blue eyes and blond hair.  She was energetic, vivacious and had a steamroller type personality.     

            To make the trip even better, my mother decided that since my Dad didn’t have to work that Saturday, my younger sister, Roseann, who detested shopping, would stay home with him, giving me a whole day to spend alone with my Mom.

At the close of these day long trips, we always visited my mother’s favorite Chinese restaurant, the Red Dragon.  At the top of a long stairway, giant red doors decorated with gold leaf dragons lead into the restaurant.  The walls were covered with gorgeous oriental screens of black and white mother of pearl scenes from Chinese villages.  The tables were configured around a huge dance floor and while you ate your egg drop soup, and shrimp chow mien; you listened to piped-in Big Band music as couples jitter bugged or fox-trotted past your table.  My mother explained that at night the restaurant had a live band and sometimes she, my Dad and their friends would go there to dance.  So you can see why boarding the subway that Saturday was a memorable event.

            I always loved the city, especially in early April.  The snow was finally gone and the trees in Central Park were dressed in that pale green of new growth.  The yellow forsythia supplied the brightest color in the landscape with crocus and daffodils just popping up.    The city was crowded, noisy and exciting.    The air was cool and crisp and any unpleasant odors were masked by the smell of street venders selling hot dogs, large pretzels and sausage hoagies.   

I never understood who designated the flow of foot traffic in the city but my mother always managed to maneuver us so we were swept along in the exact direction she wanted to go. 

            We were stopped in front of the plate glass window of Tomm McCann’s shoe store; gazing at the huge display of shoes when my mother grabbed my arm and cried “Oh, Barbara, look at those great red shoes.  Aren’t they beautiful?”  Being on the threshold of individuality, I innocently replied “I don’t like red shoes”; a simple statement.  Not one you would classify as a declaration of war unless, of course, you knew my mother, which I evidently didn’t. 

The hand on my arm tightened as my mother spun me around to face her.  “You don’t like red shoes?  How can anyone not like red shoes?  You can get a red hat, a red bag and with those shoes you would look great.  Everyone needs a pair of red shoes.  They go with everything, blue, black, white.  I have 3 pair of red shoes.  Come on let’s go try them on.  You’ll love them.” 

I’ll never know why I drew a line in the sand that day but my response was clear and direct.  “No, I don’t like red shoes.”

            The expression on my mother’s face changed from shock to curiosity.  She lifted the left eyebrow of her beautiful brown eyes and stared at me.  I could almost hear her thoughts.  “Strange, I thought I brought my oldest daughter shopping.  The easy going, well behaved one who always tries so hard to please.  I thought I had left the difficult, defiant one home with her father.”  The curiosity instantly changed to anger and she stormed away from the store.   For the rest of the day my mother proceeded to drag me to every shoe store in Manhattan pointing out every pair of red shoes we encountered. 

It was a minor rebellion in the scheme of things but I am happy to report that I stuck by my decision.  At the end of a long, frustrating day my mother finally relented and bought me a pair of navy blue shoes. 

Of course, freedom comes with a price, and there was no trip to the Red Dragon.  I knew her clip “We don’t have enough time” was not the real reason.  Down deep, my mother hated to lose.  But at that point I didn’t care.  I rode home on the subway, clutching my new blue shoes, more than happy to have suffered the consequences.  And between you and me, I must admit; here I sit, a seventy-three year old woman who still doesn’t like red shoes.

Copyright © - Barbara Ann Carle, 2008

Look for Barbara Carle to be a featured essay reader at an upcoming Friendswood Public Library program.

Houston Artist David McClain at Friendswood Public Library

The City of Friendswood teamed up with the Portable on Demand Art project (P.O.D.A.), sponsored by Houston Arts Alliance, by displaying four pieces of artwork at the grassy area adjacent to the Friendswood Public Library’s parking lot. The four pieces chosen for display in Friendswood are entitled Aerosol Warfare, Box 13 Art Space Box of Curiosities, The Joanna and Metalab the Play. These art pods will be on display through Wednesday, October 5^th.

Houston artist David McClain, representing Box 13 Art Space, was at the Friendswood Public Library to talk about their art pod entitled Box of Curiosities. David McClain has earned his MFA in Studio Photography from School of Art Institute of Chicago. He has taught photography at Rice University, has appeared in numerous solo and group shows, and has published four art books including Oleo, Hotel Chelsea, Lawyers, and New Paintings. David also has a permanent installation in collaboration with Kristy Peet entitled After Smithson (Limestone Jetty) at Lone Star College-Montgomery in Conroe, Texas.

(left to right) Artist David McClain; library staff members Christina Hicks, Keith Rogers, Karen Hart, and Mary Perroni

 

Library Lines Redux "The Witching Hour" October 2004

The Witching Hour by M. Riley

Children love a good scare! I remember spending nights with my friend Lee, barricaded behind beanbags and pillows awaiting whatever ghoul might wander through the bedroom door. As our imagination took over, the likelihood that such a ghoul would appear began to increase tenfold with each passing minute.

Crouched behind our makeshift fort and stocked with every projectile one could find in a nine-year-old's room, we would concoct elaborate attack and escape schemes well into the morning hours. Only sleep would save us from our moment of dread, but in the witching hour sleep was certainly our worst enemy. Sleep would mean horrible things even beyond our wildest imaginings. Our nine-year-old minds did the best they could to imagine the worst. The more outlandish the creature breaking through the bedroom window, the more heroic our deeds would seem after we slew this beast and saved the neighborhood from annihilation.

We would spend hours rigging the room to our ghostbuster satisfaction. When Ghoul A opens the front door, this string tied from knob to knob will pull open the top drawer of this dresser knocking over Lee's soccer trophy, which will then fall onto this skateboard causing it to roll under the ghouls foot thus tripping it to the floor, allowing time for the heroes to begin attack and escape mode. Ghoul B, coming through the window, had a similar fate involving hairspray and various kitchen chemicals.

I still swear that on at least two occasions, I saw this horrible beast peering in between the curtains of Lee's bedroom window. It was scaled and slimy green, with yellow fangs all crooked and long. It had reptilian eyes just like Lee's favorite pet gecko, only one hundred times as large. I'm sure Lee saw it as well, but by the time we could get his mom into the room the creature had already moved into the garage or on top of the roof. Soon the adults would be back in bed and we would be left alone to follow the noise of its tail scraping along the walls of this curst danger zone.

In the morning, Lee's mom would make her way under the booby traps and over the baseball bats and cans of hairspray. She would begin to wake up the two groggy-headed heroes with bribes of breakfast and a trip to the park. As the sun rose higher in the afternoon sky, the night of battling monsters would begin to fade as if all a bad, but exciting, dream. Yet even still, I remember those midnight hours as being as real as most everything I have encountered in all the days since. Maybe Lee and I were just plain lucky. Or maybe our hours of diligent planning impressed upon this fiend the need to spook elsewhere. Maybe it is still out there slithering to a bedroom window near you!

The Friendswood Public Library has a slew of haunted books and movies to keep the hairs raised and the heart pounding during this Halloween season. For the children, we have the ever-popular Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark series by Alvin Schwartz or the Goosebumps series by R.L. Stine, amongst dozens more Halloween books. For the grown-ups, try Stephen King, Dean Koontz, Clive Barker, or Neil Gaiman, or choose from nearly 200 horror dvds. 

Q & A with Texas Poet Laureate Nominee Sybil Estess

The Friendswood Public Library was honored to host a poetry reading with 2009 Texas Poet Laureate nominee Sybil P. Estess and other Laura's Poetry Group poets including Sally Ridgway, Vivian Macias, and Kelly Patton.  These excellent poets are not to be missed if you get a chance to hear them read. Sybil also graciously accepted my invitation to contribute to From the Reference Desk in the below brief Q & A session:

1. What is the title of your new book?   My book title is "Maneuvers".

2. How would you describe your book?  It is a small book which includes all but one of my published poems, that have not been in my other three poetry books.  There are several poems included which concern my early childhood in Mississippi in the 1940s and 1950s.

3. Who are your favorite poets and why?  Favorite poets: Elizabeth Bishop (I did my dissertation on--for her descriptive powers and subtle epiphanies); Greg Kuzma (for his plain language); Mary Oliver (for her metaphors from nature).

4. What is your favorite film?  "Il-Postino"--because it deals with poetry and is set in beautiful country by a seaside.

5. Finish these statements:

The first time..."ever I saw your face." --(Song sung by Roberta Flack)--my favorite love song

 

Theres no good way..."to be drunk."

 

Those who say..."they have the Truth are dangerous."

 

My definition "of love is...that you never get bored with the person.  He/she is always interesting to you."

 

I'll always be...."naive."

 

One thing I found out lately..."is about addiction."

Sybil Estess--September 11, 2011

Some pictures from the Poetry Reading follow below:

left to right (Vivian Macias, Kelly Patton, Sybil Estess, Sally Ridgway)

Sybil P. Estess



History and Heritage in August

The Friendswood Public Library hosted two fantastic programs this month featuring two local residents.  It is a true honor to help bring these inspiring individuals to the Friendswood Public Library to share their knowledge and wisdom with the community. 

Local resident WN Crawford shared his immense knowledge of the Civil War through the voice of his great-grandfather Lt. David Lefevre Crawford of the 139th Pennsylvania Infantry Regiment.  Utilizing a Powerpoint presentation with images, maps, and songs, Mr. Crawford was able to illuminate the life of this Civil War soldier and relay the events leading to and during the battles of Gettysburg and Cedar Creek.  Bill Crawford’s grandson, Daniel Crawford, added to the presentation by appearing midway in full Civil War uniform with sword drawn.  Mr. Crawford also brought numerous Civil War items (including the bible carried by David during the war) which were on display throughout the program.

Mayor of Pearland Tom Reid on left, Bill Crawford on right

Bill Crawford's grandson, Daniel Crawford

Mark, Daniel, and Bill Crawford; and me

Rebecca Hatcher Travis, member of the Chickasaw Nation, shared her knowledge and experience with Chickasaw history and culture.   Reading from her book of award-winning poetry, she was able to provide insight into the shared history and culture of the Chickasaw Nation.  Several attendees were Chickasaw or Cherokee members and a good time was had by all as people shared their knowledge and experience.  

Upcoming Friendswood Public Library programs include:

Wednesday, September 14th at 7pm Poetry Reading with featured poet Sybil Estess and Laura's Poetry Group. Sybil Pittman Estess, Ph.D., was one of eight finalists for Poet Laureate of the State of Texas in 2009.

Wednesday, September 21st at 7pm Inflammatory Breast Cancer- No Lump, Can Still Be Cancer: Come and hear the story of a Friendswood woman, Terry Arnold, as she will share her IBC story. Terry Arnold will also talk about her work that resulted in a Texas State Resolution read in the House and Senate declaring October 2011 IBC Awareness month.

Wednesday, October 5th at 7pm Legendary Norden Bombsight: The Norden bombsight was used by the United States Army Air Forces and the United States Navy during World War II to aid the crew of bomber aircraft in dropping bombs accurately. Its operation was a closely guarded secret of World War II. W N Crawford will present his training as a WW II Bombardier/Navigator with pictures detailing the operation of the bombsight.

Meet FPL Program Presenter W N Crawford

W N Crawford III was born in Pittsburgh, PA on October 7th, 1925. He is descended from 8 Revolutionary War Patriots as confirmed by the Sons of the American Revolution (SAR).

He was commissioned a 2nd Lieutenant (WW II) as a Bombardier/Navigator in the Army Air Corps and was trained on the A-26 attack bombers for night path-finder missions in the Pacific theater at the end of the war.

W N Crawford III graduated as a Petroleum Engineer from the University of Pittsburgh in 1948. He married Jeannette Satterfield (DAR) and they lived on 6 continents while working in the oil industry (mostly in drilling management operations) and raising 5 children. The last project was a 20,000' well in Israel at Sodom in the Dead Sea. 

He retired in 1996 and volunteered at the VA hospital in Asheville, NC. He has received awards from the state of North Carolina, several local organizations, and the SAR for volunteer efforts. He retired to Friendswood in 2003.

He is a member of the Color Guard of the Etowah Society of the Eastern Cherokees in Western North Carolina and has been accepted as a member of their Yellow Star Society for service. He was also a member of the Buncombe Co, NC Veterans Memorial Team and volunteered for other entities as a member of Bugles Across America. He has participated in over 500 veteran funerals.

Most recently W N Crawford has organized and or participated in 3 Memorial Day ceremonies and is currently organizing a patriotic program (July 4th) termed SUNDAY ON THE POST at the Friendswood Senior Center.

W N Crawford is presenting two separate programs at the Friendswood Public Library:

Wednesday, August 24^th at 7pm

 David LeFevre Crawford’s Civil War: Just after Ft Sumter fell, enlisted as Private in 13th Pennsylvania, wounded as Adjutant 139th Pennsylvania, 6th Corps just before Appomattox. W N Crawford will talk about the 6th Corps in two decisive battles, Gettysburg and Cedar Creek, and will recount the life and events of this Civil War soldier through story, images, and song.  

Wednesday, October 5th at 7pm

Legendary Norden Bombsight: The Norden bombsight was used by the United States Army Air Forces and the United States Navy during World War II to aid the crew of bomber aircraft in dropping bombs accurately. Its operation was a closely guarded secret of World War II. W N Crawford will present his training as a WW II Bombardier/Navigator with pictures detailing the operation of the bombsight.

Who Are the Chickasaw Indians? A program by Rebecca Hatcher Travis

Who Are the Chickasaw Indians? Come hear Chickasaw Nation citizen Rebecca Hatcher Travis tell stories about her American Indian heritage and read from her award winning book, Picked Apart the Bones on Wednesday, August 10^th at 7pm in the Friendswood Public Library Activity Room.  Rebecca Hatcher Travis’ book Picked Apart the Bones won the “First Book Award for Poetry” from the Native Writers’ Circle of the Americas.  

About her award winning book, Rebecca Hatcher Travis writes, I see many of the poems in the book Picked Apart the Bones in the color red, since they were written to remember – the stories, the struggles, the people of the past.  Other poems, bright yellow as the sun, rejoice in the continuation and determination of generations of Native Americans.  Still others, in shimmering green, celebrate the beauty of and our connection to the sacred natural world.     

Rebecca Hatcher Travis has graciously shared three of her poems for inclusion in From the Reference Desk. These poems include Blood Wise, Easy Clay, and Pieces of Place. These poems, with additional comments by Rebecca, follow immediately:

Blood Wise

green rolling hills with sacred mounds

ceremony and forbidden ways

the blood remembers

what memory does not

like the instinct to survive

intuition confirms

our deepest knowledge

we understand where we belong

The poem Blood Wise along with a copy of the book Picked Apart the Bones are included in a time capsule sealed in 2010 on the grounds of the newly opened Chickasaw Cultural Center in Sulphur, Oklahoma. 

Easy Clay

find the right trail

down the hill

to the old slow river

there along the bank underfoot

you will find its home

sister calls it easy clay

as she rolls it carefully

between her palms

stretches snake coils out one by one

to form her useful pots

still gathered by the riverside

this old earth almost falls into shape

it tries so hard to please

for easy clay remembers why

it lives there by the water

Easy Clay is a tribute to all potters for the art of creating handmade vessels.   

Pieces of Place

how this land clings beneath my fingernails

travels down my throat in small armies  

moves under my skin without a sound

year after year I hurry back

step into the cool of Travertine Creek

hear the roar of Turner Falls

sip their clear spring waters

until I am so full of this place

I could burst

Pieces of Place relates to the natural beauty of the crosstimbers found within the Chickasaw Nation in Oklahoma which includes some of the purest spring waters in the world. 

Come to the Friendswood Public Library on August 10^th at 7pm to hear Rebecca share stories about her American Indian heritage and read from her award winning book, Picked Apart the Bones.

 

More poems by Rebecca Hatcher Travis:

Singing Down the Sun

Urban Sprawl

 

 

 

Movie Night Friends Begin a New Chapter

Movie Night friends Newt and Melody are moving to be closer to their grandchildren. We will miss seeing and visiting with them on Thursday nights and wish them all the best in this new chapter of their lives!  Don’t forget to stop in and say hello if you are visiting our area!