PoetryPlus

I hope many people watched the “Prime Time” show about professor Randy Pausch’s last lecture. I watched it on video sometime after September 18, 2007. In the eyes of the media it wasn’t a big deal at that time. But it was a big deal with me. I told friends and family about it.

I found Randy’s beliefs about how to live life inspirational. Okay, it’s easy to feel that way when you hear a speaker say things that you already believe in. Yes, for the most part, he was talking to the choir. But it is always wonderful to have what we already believe in validated by a dynamic teacher and man.

There were things that I could not help but like about him–his energy, his work ethic, his passion for teaching, sense of humor, and cheerfulness, while walking in the valley of death. Moreover, his childhood dreams were always important to him–from winning large stuffed animals at the carnival to playing a professional sport.

My teenage dreams were to play professional baseball, marry a beautiful woman, have kids, live in a nice house, drive a decent car, and give back to society in a positive way beyond baseball. Later, the baseball dream gave way to becoming a teacher who tried to make within the four walls of a classroom, while wielding a solid piece of chalk, not a bat. I also wanted to write the Great American Novel, just like J.D. Salinger.

All of my dreams came true, except I became a children’s poet along the way, and my name isn’t a household name like Salinger. But I do get out and about and visit schools and libraries with my poetry.

One of the teachers, Mary Lou Beaudoin (at Seton Cahtolic School), said this month that, “Silly Sottile was wonderful with 1st graders. They loved his poems, his hat, and his April Fool’s joke.” Another teacher said “Silly Sottile had the class mesmerized.”

I also told the class that they had to become something in life that would make themselves and the world better. (That’s exactly what Randy Pausch did.) I said “Your dream my change along the way, but the important thing is to have the dream and follow it–just like my father did, whose dream was to send all of his kids to college. He did. And my dreams came true too.”

That’s when I realized that whenever I walk into a school and share poetry, it’s a “head-fake.” It’s really not about poetry. I am giving my last lecture about living a meaningful life to kids with vivid childhood dreams.

What’s your “Last Lecture” about?

“Mindwalk” isn’t a movie for everyone, but if you like to think “deep” thoughts now and then, this movie may be for you. A poet, politician, and a physicist discuss the state of the world and their own lives, while in the French isle. This is a talkfest of the highest order, and it has been described by some reviewers as “pretentious.” I would like to have more friends that occasionally talked like these three individuals.

IF you liked “Dinner with Andre”, you probably will like this movie which is available for free on the Internet. What did I learn from the movie? That would be difficult to boil down in a few sentences, and you might laugh at how basic they sound. But here goes…

• Scientists don’t really have a handle on what “matter” is. The sub-atomic world is very elusive, nothing like the tinker toy models we saw in high school.

• Our environment is only going to be saved in the long run if people come together from all walks of life, professions, politics, belief systems, and countries.

• We are all inter-connected in more ways than we can even imagine.

• The “systems” way of thinking is rather fascinating.

• Philosophers and scientists aren’t that far apart in how they think about the world.

Those are my random thoughts about “Mindwalk.” Although Charlie Rose isn’t in the movie, this is an interesting stroll for Charlie Rose fans.

Do you ever wonder who cares? Who cares about what you write? Do you blog? Do you write for profit? I think they are honest questions? So honest that just for a moment I’ll digress and tell you about the cartoon in today’s tabloid that I saw at Hess Express, as I ate my Bluffin, and drank my any size coffee for $2.15, tax included. I was reading this New York paper, and there was a cartoon of a husband and wife watching TV. A politician on TV says, “If elected, I’ll do it with a prostitute.” Then the wife says to her husband, “Finally an honest politician.”

Getting back to my self-introspective questions, I know that my family cares about my writing in a general way, but they don’t check out my Web site very frequently for changes. That I know from my grandkids. They don’t ask about what I am working on. They are used to me cornering them to look at what I’ve done on my den computer. I think they just take it for granted that I will blab about whatever is on my mind—not that I tend to be a big talker. I am more introverted than extroverted. And, unfortunately, none of my three siblings have easy access to computers.

In the second part of my life I am striving to make a difference one poem or poetry performance at a time. It’s what excites and scares me. It excites me because it’s fun and exciting to see kids laugh and light up with glee, as I share poems and illustrations from my book, Waiting to See the Principal and Other Poems. The scary part is that I want my poetry performance to go over well—lots of laughs and fun for the kids, and a pleasant break for the teachers in the audience; maybe even some poetry ideas that they can build on with their classes.

The right chemistry is usually there, but not always. Sometimes I get wonderful letters and recommendations from teachers and kids. Sometimes I don’t. Was she too busy to write or was my humor not her humor? I don’t know. I don’t want to be so popular that I am bound to my Blueberry or my cell phone. But I would like a larger audience for my poetry and performances. Yes, my goal is to make a bigger splash in the Media World and make many readers laugh.

As for profit, making kids laugh and a tired teacher smile is priceless.

If you email me and ask for an excerpt from my latest children’s book, I’ll send you a copy of Chapter One, containing 17 poems and illustrations about school. Some will make you LOL. And for me, that’s what life is all about.

My email address is jsottile@frontiernet.net.

Ah, this is Poetry Friday where you can read wonderful poem and comments by readers and authors. As the snow melts in Rochester, New York, and we all wait for spring, this is what I am thinking about from the book Waiting to See the Principal and Other Poems…

FOUR SEASONS?

Mommy says there are four seasons:
Spring
Summer
Fall
Winter

Grandma says there are four seasons:
Spring
Summer
Fall
Winter

Daddy says there are two seasons:
Winter
and
Road Construction
What is Road Construction?

Author: Joe Sottile

The reason that I haven’t been blogging is that I have been away at the beach in North Carolina sports-car driving, ferry hopping, turtle trailing, crocodile teasing, octopus ogling, fossil hunting, history exploring, and poetry performing, according to the lead in to this month’s photos at my Web site. [If you see the page before “bird watching” was removed, then you were an early visitor to the site.]

Pictures of me golfing aren’t there either—no fan club. I played seven times on six different courses, and hit bags of golf balls into the sky on seven other days. As I slowly get better at the game, it increases my joy of playing golf. By the end of the Summer of 2008, I hope to break 100. You got to have goals!

I also enjoyed performing poetry in five classes of 3rd graders at Southport Elementary School. The performances went well—kids are kids, no matter what state they come from or what accent they have. Here’s a review that I just received in the mail. It made my day—maybe my week. I’ll end my blog with it.

“I really enjoyed your program! The students did as well. I loved your outfit. The way you interacted with the kids was great! One thing that really struck me was the way you had them tell you their names. [They all shouted out their names in unison three times, and they then knew this program was going to be fun.] The poems you showed were great, especially “Bathroom Vacation”. I plan on using the poem the next time I have to chase the boys out of the bathroom. I really enjoyed your program, and I want to thank you very much for sharing your talent with our school.”

In the best of times, life is a challenge with personal victories sprinkled in here and there. On that note, I have two little stories to tell, both are personal victories. A week ago a friend, Jim, gave me a book about growing up in the 50s and 60. It’s filled with family photos and famous people of those days like Hoppy and Howdy. Jim, an engineer, spent the last 10 years of his Saturday mornings writing it. It’s not for sale—just for family and a few friends—20 copies in all. He wanted his grown kids to know what it was like growing up during those decades. The book looks totally professional.

Although he had no intentions of releasing it to the public, I was hoping that I could tell him two things: it’s well-crafted and worthy of mass publication where it will become a best seller. Again, the latter was not Jim’s goal, nor was it the reason I was given the book to “review.” The autobiography is well-crafted, but it has a number of copyrighted photos and inspirational lyrics at the beginning of each chapter. So he couldn’t sell it as is. But Jim accomplished his goal of sharing his childhood with all those that love him. And I am happy that I now know him even better.

Secondly, today I had a superb time doing a poetry presentation in a third grade classroom—lots of laughs and fun. And at the end of the performance, one student came up to me and hugged me. I don’t know exactly why. But it was certainly brave of her. Maybe I reminded her of her grandfather. Maybe she thought it was the best way she could thank me for the visit. It worked. I felt appreciated all the way home by everyone there, especially her, the Brave One.

How true this is only the poet knows…

Just a Moment

While carrying copies of our latest poetry book
to my illustrator and former colleague,
I race down the hall to the back of the school,
hoping that she’s eating lunch in her room.

My heart is pounding with delight,
my visitor tag is flapping in the breeze.
Sweat is beading on my forehead,
and rolling into my left eye. It burns.

I cannot wait to show this gifted artist
how well her illustrations turned out
in our third poetry book for kids.
I know that she will be ecstatic.

But I slow down as I approach her room
and peek into another teacher’s room—
one whom I admired for her teaching ideas,
zest in teaching, and sensitivity to others.

Some would call her a “mover and shaker.”
I call her passionate, professional, and perky.
Some kids near the door are chanting repeatedly,
“Someone is at the door. Someone is at the door.”

As I open the door and stroll through,
I say, “Someone silly is here”—hoping the kids
will laugh and enjoy the moment.
And I take a close look at Ms. Perky.

I see this former cheerleader, valedictorian,
and 3rd grade team member hunched over her desk,
looking shorter than I used to remember her.
Retirement is not too far off for her.

Suddenly I am blinded by the reasons I left
teaching public school—teaching for the test,
test mandates, district goals, building goals, and
personal goals that were not that personal.

I stumble toward Ms. Perky who is rooted
at her desk with one student seated nearby,
while the rest of the class pretends to do math,
as they eyeball me clutching ten poetry books.

She tells me that her son’s college roommate
had me in elementary school as a teacher
(in this same room that we are in now),
and he discovered the love of writing here.

I am surprised by this wonderful compliment
that seems to have come out of leftfield.
So I simply say, “Invite me in to do poetry.”
Winking I add, “Give yourself a poetry break.”

I don’t hear cheers for a poetry visit
from a tired and gray Ms. Perky,
but the boy at the table says,
“How much is your book?”

Ms. Perky launches instant dart eyes at him,
yet they bounce off of his rubber face
and he says, “I have money in my lunch bag.”
Ms. Perky ignores the outspoken student.

She says, “Yes, I should.” But she won’t.
Poetry is a marginal activity.
And there are tests to be taken,
and benchmarks to be met.

WAITING TO SEE THE PRINCIPAL AND OTHER POEMS is number 8 on the Top Ten at Booklocker for print books. Being on the Top Ten makes me very happy—a dream come true.

Some guidelines for blogs suggest that you make them short, sweet, but don’t blow your horn. It’s not a brag board.

I don’t agree with the last part. Good news is always good news among friends. And that’s exactly what I consider people that read my blog–a friend of the written word and whatever is on my mind. So here’s some good news.

I’m in the eBook: “I Wish Someone Had Told Me That! 64 Successful Children’s Authors Give You the Advice They Wish Someone Had Given Them.” In this book, authors tell their greatest mistakes, most important lessons, and their sources for inspiration. It’s published by www.write4kids.com.

I hope you purchase it and read it.

I am in my writing place. I mean that in a physical sense. It’s a real place in the house downstairs–carpeted, wall lined with family pictures, and it’s warm.

It wasn’t always a warm place. A long heat runner goes into the room. But the heat runner used to get tired of “running” and fall fast asleep along the way with the heat. So we finally installed a gas stove that looks like an old wood burning stove. Now my “writing place” is toasty warm in winter and cool in the summer. A writer definitely needs a comfortable place to write.

Of course, “comfortable” is a state of the mind. I have a friend who loves to write in the cafe section of “Borders.” She likes the noise mixed with talk and people coming and going. It stimulates her fingers on her laptop.

I am sure there are some people that like to write poetry in trees. I am more down to earth myself. I just thought that you might like to know that, although I do wear a propeller hat I am not completely airborne.

The bottom line is: Don’t just a person by his or her hat.

I hinted in “I Am Back!” that I would tell you more about Lori Aman, my gifted illustrator. She lives a busy life. Lori is a full-time elementary art teacher, an oil painter, a cartoonist, and the creator of Zachary Bear ® products.

According to her website bio (http://zacharybear.com), in 1982 she and her husband, Billy, created a watercolor caricature, Zachary Bear ®. From 1983 to 1997 Lori participated in many arts festivals locally and throughout the northeast selling variations of her character.

In 1991, they established the Zachary Bear Store, in Webster, New York, with associates Ed Huehn and later Lisa Fox. This became a place to produce and promote her artwork along with personalized gifts and color reproduction services for other artists. You can read more about her background at her website.

What I find so amazing about Lori is that she makes the time to do so many things well—teach, draw, paint, tutor others in art, create Zachary products, and help run Billy’s business. That’s why I call her a “busy lady.” But it’s her passion for art the keeps her going, whether she has chalk in her hand or oil paints…or a black-ink pen to do cartoons for “Silly” Sottile.

Thanks for reading my blog. Write on!

I participated in the 2007 HWS Book and Craft Fair on Sunday, November 18, 2007 from 11:00 am-4:00 pm in Geneva, New York. Did I have a good time? I always have a good time, no matter where I go, except when I visit the dentist, and I was there this morning. (But that’s another story, right?)

Although the people traffic at the fair was somewhat less than last year, I had a very good time. I sat next to Barbara Stewart, author of the “How to Kazoo” book. Since she requested that we sit next to one another from the coordinator of the program, she made my day.

But I did ask her, “Why me?”

She said, “I enjoy your sense of humor, and you know how to sell books.”

Actually, I am better at talking to people than selling books. I spent a considerable amount of time talking to an elementary principal and I outlined how he could use some poetry selections from “Waiting to See the Principal and Other Poems” at faculty meetings.

Near the end of the conversation I thought he asked, “How many books do you have left (with you)?”

I answered, “About Twenty!”, while having visions of him buying one for each his faculty members, assuming that he had a small faculty.

Then he said, “Maybe I’ll be back.”

A “maybe” works out about 50-50 with me at book festivals. I guess his mom needed to give him a ride home because he never showed up again.

Another principal in the “correctional” system talked me into getting the flu-shot, then she “manned” my table for several minutes and wore my propeller hat—pictures of her on my website next month! She didn’t buy my book either, but she seemed interested in having me visit her students.

On the left side of me sat a lady whose Christmas book has sold over 1,000,000 copies. I kid you not. Can you imagine how much fun that would be? Her name? Susan Wojciechowski. What is her best-seller? “The Christmas Miracle.” She has written dozens of books. Her books have been recommended on CBS “The Morning Show” and are on numerous state reading lists.

Next to Susan was Ellen Stoll Walsh, author and illustrator of the very popular “Mouse Paint” and “Mouse Count.” Reading has always been important in her life. It was not until her son’s third birthday that she realized that she wanted to make her own books. She was reading “Alexander And The Wind Up Mouse” by Leo Lionni to Ben for the first time when suddenly she realized what she was going to do for the rest of her life! And she’s been doing it ever since. Ellen’s latest book is “Mouse Shapes.”

Next to Ellen was Robin Pulver is the author of many books, including “Axle Annie” (A Smithsonian Notable book and the first book about the best-ever school bus driver); the popular “Mrs. Toggle” series; “Punctuation Takes a Vacation,” and “Christmas For A Kitten.” The past few years also saw publication of “Author Day For Room 3T,” which School Library Journal called “sublimely silly” and “a surefire hit” and “Nouns and Verbs…” Robin’s books have won many awards.

Ellen and Robin both live in the Rochester area and belong to the same writing group that I do, RACWI. So I do travel in good company and with famous people. Do you think fame is contagious?

I hope so.

(Background info on authors condensed from the RACWI 2007 festival site)

I said that I was going to write a lot. Do you think that I am “full of it”? I love the follwing poem which is full of it. That is, that’s its title, “I Am Full Of…” I am only copying the first and last four lines of this great poem written by Elaine Magliaro. You can imagine the rest or look her up.

“Shoes are full of feet.
Candy’s full of sweet.
A pig is full of slops.
A bunny’s full of hops…

Dreams fill up your head
At night when you’re in bed.
“And you?” you ask of me.
WHY…
I’m full of poetry.”

I am thinking about using this when I do poetry performances.

Please tune into tomorrow to Silly Sottile.

I am back blogging! I am excited about that. I hope you are too. My goal is to build a good size audience here with worthwhile ideas and activities. You can help keep me inspired by making comments along the way.

I have a new poetry book out, and I am very proud of it. It’s called “Waiting to See the Principal and Other Poems.” It’s 140 pages and bursting with poetry and funny illustrations. I love how the cover turned out. That alone was a dream come true. It looks so kid friendly, shades of Shel Silverstein. It makes you wonder why the boy on the cover is in trouble and how things will turn out for him.

Lori Aman did a fantastic job with all of the drawings. She’s a great lady, teacher, and artist. I kid her by saying, “I wish you were my neighbor.” That way I would see more of her. Lori has a busy life. More about that at another time.

As for me, I am trying to save the world one poem at a time. Does that sound crazy? It isn’t. More about that at another time.

As for exciting events, the Rochester Children’s Book Festival was held on November 3, and I loved being there. I had my new book with me, and I sold 22 copies. That’s good for a festival. I could tell you about the big screens that they had there that flash a picture of your face and book every minute or so that make you feel like a celebrity. I could tell you about watching Tedd Arnold sign one book after the other. I could tell you about the joy of having my photo taken at the festival party with the author of “Library Lion,” Michelle Knudsen, but I will not.

I could tell you several stories about how much the book festival event meant to me, but I’ll just pick one. A ten year old girl and her mom were shopping at the festival. The girl had $20 to spend. She liked my book a lot. Mom told her, “Okay, let’s look some more.” They disappeared in the crowd featuring 46 other authors and illustrators at various tables. An hour or two later, they came back and she asked for the book. While signing it, I found out that she had $20 birthday money and she bought one book: mine. I took her photo to post it on my website next month.

Okay, tune into “Silly” Sottile tomorrow.

I haven’t been  wrilting because of spam problems. I have over 15,000 pieces of spam, and they just won’t seem to go away. That’s why I stopped writing–out of frustration, and I wasn’t sure if my readers cared.

I’ve had a number of major small victories in the literary world. “Major small victories” sounds like an oxymoron. If I were a prolific writer, they would indeed be small, but since I am not, I call them “victories.”  An essay that I wrote for an anthology about rejections, “Making a Difference,” was accepted for publication, which will include my bio and website info. And I wrote another essay about encouraging children to become poets that I think will find a national audience. More and more people are on the edge of saying yes to my poetry performances.

I am eagerly looking forward to our yearly Rochester’s Children’s Book Festival in early November at the Monroe Community College. The new section of my website “For Parents” is going to be a fantastic addition. I think it will help promote my book and poetry visitations. I used the info that I gathered at my summer workshop at the Chautauqua Institute to improve the site.

In November, I will start working on my third book: Waiting for the Principal and Other Poems. So what is there left important to do? I decided that I need more energy to do all the things that I now want to do, especially if I want to meet up with Charlie Rose someday. That means I need to lose 20 pounds—easy to say and challenging to do. The theory is less weight = more energy in my life. I need to join Hidden Valley or the YMCA and do it this time around! Last time I lost eight pounds and gained it back after I quit. During my membership period my visits were rather erratic. I would love to be in super shape for biking and buy a relatively expensive road bike. I would always be ahead of the pack!

Once you start making one dream come true, sometimes other dreams start falling into place like dominoes. You never know.

One of my literary goals is to be published in a series of excellent magazines: The Sun, Newsweek, and the New York Times Sunday Magazine. I was wondering if I should perhaps give up on the Times. The odds of being published there are getting increasingly more difficult. I once had editors send me personal rejection letter on fine stationery. But they changed editors and the format of the essay on the last page of the magazine. Once they liked essays about fathers. They were done with that and they created a His and Her column, rotating them weekly. Eventually they did away with that and now they rotate essays on any topic with photos the next week of whatever. And many times the essays are written by famous authors with books coming out. So much for the Everyman Essay.

Last week I put a pile of essays on my lap at the library and read them for about an hour. This was a litmus test. If I could not find any essays that spoke to me, it was time to forget the market. Fortunately, I found one about a teacher at a middle school in the Bronx—“Class Project” and another about a writer living in NYC—“At the Island’s End.” I would not mind being in the teacher’s classroom for one day and the writer’s apartment for about three days. I would not want to live their lives, but I found their “spirits” inspiring and encouraging. Part of me wishes that I could live in the city, but I really would not like it. So I’ll take another stab at writing for the Times. 

My tutoring job would make a good topic to write about. (I’ve done a rough draft that I don’t quite like yet.) Readers would certainly connect with the topic. Writing a final copy would include a balancing act of truth and political correctness. But those two above mentioned essays were my “find” of the week in the Magazine World.

In the World of Picture Books, I took out Daniel Pinkwater’s Author’s Day and hoped for the best. Maybe I could recommend the book before I did poetry visits. The book has a rather dry sense of humor. I was chuckling at some parts, while wondering if kids would get it. It’s silly and funny. 

There were other reasons that I was interested in this book. It’s hard to find picture books with many words, especially nowadays when publishers want 500 or less. The first version of Peggy Pencil had 4,000 words—too many words. Then I removed two angels and cut as much deadwood as I could, 2,200 words. Still long, but an editor can help slim it down with excellent illustrations that tell the some of the story, thus eliminating some of the text. And, of course, a good editor could condense the text. The thing is Author’s Visit has about 2,000 words. That was refreshing to me…What I like about this book is one of the teachers asked the author if she read her manuscript of 900 pages! 

I have been one of those teachers who stalked visiting authors. But now I am on the other side of the author’s. People love free advice and help from you, whether you’re a teacher, nurse, doctor, author or car mechanic! In general, I don’t mind be asking questions about writing, but not when that person picks my brain for 45 minutes at a festival table, while blocking others from checking out my books. That can be a pain!
 

I have been a Yankee fan for a long time, and the Yankees were getting creamed this week in the last game of the playoffs. What was I doing? With the play-by-play sound turned off, I was reading “You’ve Got to Read This Book!: 55 People Tell the Book That Changed Their Life.” The book gave me several “Ah-ha!” moments.

My father was a macho, self-made Italian man, short on talk and long on character. By the way he lived his life he passed the torch of the “work ethic” and to be honest to everyone. Work hard and play hard was his creed. There were weeks he worked seven days as plumber. When he bowled at the bowling alley, he launched the ball like a bazooka, blowing up as many pins in its path as it could. When he sat in his recliner, he could watch movie after movie. He believed there was magic in film, and in getting a good education. But I didn’t know what his religious beliefs were or if he even believed in God.

Once I came home from church and informed him that he wasn’t going to heaven. He wondered why not. I said, “According to my nun, you have to go to church on Sundays.”

He said, “I’ll go when I get older.” In his mind, he never got old enough.

However, I did know that he loved the book “A Tree Grows in Brooklyn.” I thought that was odd, since it’s about Francie Nolan growing up—not a boy. As an adult, I never saw my father read a novel. He read news magazines and books about great statesmen. Sometime in his youth, he read about Francie. And it made perfect sense how Francie had influenced my father after reading what Jacquelyn Mitchard wrote in “You’ve Got to Read This Book!” She writes, “Katie [Francie’s mom] teaches that education is the only way to leave behind the kind of life in which she’s grown up—the life of a tree forcing its way through the cement, surviving on not much more than its own fierce will to live.”

My father’s dream was to send all of his four kids to college or some form of higher education. And he did exactly that. As a youth, he was never encouraged to get a “good education” from his parents. As the first son, they wanted him to get a trade as soon as possible. Therefore, he became a master plumber, but he daydreamed of teaching math.

At the funeral of his youngest brother, someone quietly asked my father if he believed in God. My ears perked up as he said, “You look at a tree and you see a magnificent structure—something God could only make.”

The fictional character, Francie Noland, encouraged my father to believe in a good education, God, and himself.

That’s the power of a good book.

At the age of 84, my mother died two weeks ago, after spending two years in a nursing home, while suffering from Alzheimer’s disease and being confined to a wheelchair. Her death was a blessing. This is the eulogy that I gave for her…

If my mom were alive today, she would thank you for coming here. So her family thanks you today.

Besides prayers, the last gift that I can give our mother is a few kind words. She used to say, “If it makes you happy, do it.” And I am happy to share these words with you.

Our mother is gone, but she’s here in our hearts and memories—like Father Jim said. She’s here in her children and their spouses, grandchildren and many others.

Yes, she’s here in here grandchildren. She was a “grand” mother to all of them. Whenever we closed a long distance phone call, she would add, “Give everyone a kiss for me and tell them that I love them.”

She even included our dog, Rosco, in her good wishes. Dogs held a special place in my mom’s heart because they asked for so little and gave so much. Dogs like Rudy and Lucy.

Mom is here in her nieces and nephews and her friends.

So, who was this woman we call mother, sister, grandma, great-grandma or friend?

She was an angel on Earth. That’s who she was. Those who used to watch “Touched By An Angel” know what I mean. This earthly angel wasn’t perfect, but she was as perfect as a person can be.

She earned her angel wings by spending most of her teenage years without a father, a father who died in a fire. Her oldest brother, John, became her rock of Gibraltar, her substitute father.

This lovely lass fell in love with a hard-working macho Italian man. It was a classic case of Romeo and Juliet, except that the relationship survived growing up in two different houses, with two different cultures and lifestyles.

In the first year of marriage, there were challenges and the background of World War Two. Out of love, my mother gave into her groom in many ways. She waited hand-and-foot on a man used to European ways of living. That’s partly how she earned her heavenly wings today.

She pleased this tough macho man as much as she could because she knew that he would love her all the days of his life; that he would work hard for her and their family, as long as he could.

She knew a profound secret about him that escaped the minds of his children, even as their lives unfolded into adulthood.

She knew that he was hard on the outside, and a marshmallow on the inside. And that he would always be a good father, better than his father, and better than most fathers.

She gave birth to three sons and one Earth-Angel, Margie.

Our mom earned her earthly wings by being a wonderful mother to all of her children. Each one of us was an integral part of her life. We all have stories we could tell.

I remember many things she did for us. Christmas was always full of tradition, food, laughter, gifts, and generous relatives.

I remember wonderful birthday parties, my First Holy Communion, Confirmation, playing ball around the house, breaking windows, and ruining patches of grass and storm doors with a love of stoopball and baseball. If mom saw me playing happily with my cousin, John, nothing else mattered.

I remember Queens, Ozone Park, getting lost at the Bronx Zoo, shaking Hopalong Cassidy’s hand at Gertz Department store, after waiting three hours on line.

I remember our trip to Colorado, picnics at Belmont Park, a special yearly picnic at Coram, feeding our stomach and our souls.

It was a fantastic time for young or old.

In our daily lives, our mom was always there for us, standing behind us 100%. She believed that we could do anything with our careers.

When I was nervous about student teaching in the college campus school, where many college kids were always coming and going, I complained to mom about teaching in a fish bowl—where college professors and students could observe your every move through a two-way mirror that lined the classroom wall.

She said, “Don’t worry, Joe. You will be a Kingfish.”

She was right. I did well.

I could always count on my mother to believe in me.

Later on in life, when my wife had a serious operation, mom came for a week and took wonderful care of all of us.

Mom could be there for family and for strangers in need. Mom and Dad loved movies, [so here comes a movie-connection for mom]. In the movie “Judging Your Life,” the main character had to prove to a panel of his heavenly superiors that he’s worthy of advancing higher. He wishes for the sake of upward mobility that he had a real fire scene in his life like his new friend has. He wanted something dramatic to show the panel judging his life.

Well, our mother did have a fire scene. She saved a boy from death who was on fire in the neighbor’s yard by rolling him in the wet grass. He had second and third degree burns but he survived, thanks to my mother.

Besides her fire rescue scene, she had her long lasting marriage to father. And she gave birth to four children who were touched by an earthy angel every day.

Our mom is now a full-fledge angel. She was the best mother we could possibly have had. She spent her whole life being an outstanding wife and mother. We will miss her deeply. But she did leave behind wonderful memories and three sons and an Earth-Angel, Margie, who became mother to her own mother in the end.

Mom used to tell us we were all loved the same amount. But, if she loved Margie a little extra, that’s okay. Margie gave mom some of the best years of her life. Amen.

Several of my online friends have asked me, “What have you been up to lately, Joe?” I haven’t sent them any interesting e-mail for two weeks or longer. Three of our grandchildren live five houses down the block. And two of our other grandchildren live about 200 miles away. My wife, Mar, decided that all of them needed a week of bonding together. So they have all been with us most of the week, Saturday to Saturday.

What did we do together? We went swimming, go-carting, rode the rides at Darien Lake Amusement Park, played ball in the backyard, watched the Red Wings lose, saw brilliant fireworks (after the game), celebrated a birthday, Built-a-Bear, and bonded. I am sure that I am forgetting something. Oh, yes, if they felt a tinge of boredom inside our house, they immediately turned to TV cartoons or played video games. There was plenty of pizza, hot dogs, and other goodies. And now there will be stories to tell and treasured memories to tuck away for rainy days. [Let’s see…I accidentally ran a red light with the kids in the car…I crashed the go-cart into my oldest grandson—stopping all traffic—while trying to scoot past him…I cheered too loudly for the home team…I complained about the young’s dependency on video games…I outlawed anyone saying “Shut-up!” to anyone else in earshot of me, just like we were in school…and I committed other crimes…I am sure…]

Mar and I are now in recovery and reflection mode. The week before the kids came we attended the Chautauqua Institute, featuring the study of films. The highlight was a concert with Kenny Rogers—a singer who has produced 63 albums. Near the end of his excellent performance, he said that first we aim for success in life, and then significance. I am sure Kenny feels both.

As for me, in my heart of hearts I know that I was a successful teacher and parent. And the grandkids know who I am and what I believe in. As for “being significant,” I am striving to do that with my poetry. It’s a uphill climb.

Do you want to see a funny movie? See ?Wedding Crashers? Very funny stuff. Rent it on DVD or video. I LOL many time while watching it. The dialogue was incredibly funny. Take my word for it. You may not like the beginning, but you will like the movie.

Today, my wife and I didn’t have to crash a wedding. We were invited to a friend’s wedding. That is, it was the wedding of the son of my wife’s friend. When we went to the church about twelve miles away, I reminded my wife that I had performed poetry in their church school. Ah, small world. But it gets better.

The wedding reception was only a few miles away from home at a private golf club clubhouse that I could never afford to be a member. Since I retired only six years ago and live in the same town that I taught in, I met two former students, a guest and waitress at the reception.

Jim, the guest, reminded me that I was his former student, introduced me to his attractive wife (good friend of the bride). She offered to get me a drink, and I accepted. That was nice of her, and Jim and I chatted briefly. He asked if I were still teaching. Nice touch. It made me feel less like an old fart? He told me about his job. Life was good.

Valerie, the waitress said, “You’re Mr. Sottile, aren’t you? I am Valerie. I had you in fourth grade. I am studying to be a teacher because of you.”

I remembered Valerie as clearly as a noisy cell phone–blond, cute, intelligent, and challenging. I also remember what she told me next, which broke my heart the year I had Valerie. “My father died the year I had you [in a boating accident]. I still have the letter that you wrote me in a scrapbook.”

I am sure Valerie will be a wonderful teacher. Many superb teachers are wounded-healers. And their mission in life is to help heal others.