PoetryPlus

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.

I am getting back on the blogging trail by sharing a few thoughts about friendship. In college we had to pass a writing test to graduate from college. Given quotes to choose one to write about, I wrote about friendship–how grand it was to have at least one best buddy in life. (Fortunately, I passed on my first try.) Well, my wife is my best buddy. She knows all there is to know about me. Nevertheless, each friend represents a world in us, a world possibly not born until they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born. (Anais Nin)

No distance of place or lapse of time can lessen the friendship of those who are thoroughly persuaded of each other’s work. (Robert Southey)

We all have our dreams. They keep us alive. They motivate us to leap or creep out of bed in the morning. When we dare to tell others our innermost dreams, we risk the laughter of others. Sometimes we share them with the wrong people. It’s like walking out on a limb and watching what you thought were your best friends saw the limb off. You want your secret-holders to support your dreams, no matter how crazy the rest of the world may think they are.

So gentle readers, this is what I dream about: I am sitting around the brown round table on the Charlie Rose Show. Charlie and I are discussing my children?s best-selling self-help book. It’s as popular as the first book I heard discussed on Charlie’s show: “The Bridges of Madison County,” a runaway bestseller.

But Charlie hasn’t been hosting his famous program for a number of weeks, due to heart problems. And this saddens me. I love Charlie and his program. You may think that I am using that four-letter word too loosely, but I am not. For years I have been falling asleep with Charlie, him on the tube and me in my recliner. I enjoy the wide variety of guests he has on his program from all walks of life. Charlie is always searching for the bottom line with his famous guests. He wants his viewers and himself to discover what the guest really thinks happiness is, and how he or she measures it. Then he wants to get to know the people in their lives that shaped them. Lastly, he wants to know what’s their latest inspiring project. And Charlie isn’t happy until he gets all of his answers. He does not let his guest duck his deep questions.

Yes, I like Charlie a lot. A movie critic, Jack Garner, once said at a workshop, “Yes, I know that I won the job lottery in terms of best jobs.” Actually, I think Charlie won it. He has the best job and he does it the best. Charlie, I need you sitting at your round table.

Charlie, without you I can’t dream my dreams.

I haven’t been blogging for a while. I have been on a blogging-hiatus, while wondering if anyone is reading what I write here. Even though I like to write, I don’t want this to be a diary that only I read. I love having an audience and reading comments that springboard from this blog. Since the last time I wrote here, I have received 124 comments. All of it was spam! I always find spam rather disappointing. In the beginning, I thought you had to delete it one-by-one. Later, to my relief, I realized you could go to the end of the file and delete these irritating messages all at once.

As you know, tomorrow is Mother?s Day. Mine is a nursing home and she doesn’t know who I am. That’s sad, but she is well cared for, and my sister, Margie (a nurse), visits her frequently. She’s been a good woman, and she’s had a good life. She truly served her husband and family. And her four kids love her dearly.

When President Kennedy was assassinated, I was attending college. The whole country was feeling a great loss. Two days after Kennedy’s death, my philosophy teacher spoke to the class as a person instead of a philosopher, and the professor walked out of class crying mid-way through the period. Among other things, he reminded us to take care of our mothers because you don?t have them forever. His lesson has stayed with me for forty years.

My father, a plumbing inspector, taught me a simple lesson about newspapers. When asked why he didn?t take plumbing bribes, which were routine where he worked, he said, “I don’t want my kids to read about me in the newspaper.”

Well, I have decided that I do want my grandkids to read about me in the newspaper, but for the good things that I do: for example, visiting classrooms and sharing my love for poetry. Just today my granddaughter Megan saw my photo in the paper and said, “That picture [and caption] is really nice, grandpa.”

While I was shopping for a Mother?s Day gift for my wife, I came across two special sayings, “Grandparents sprinkle stardust over the lives of little children. ” My wife has done a superb job of that, from tutoring them, to taking them to Disney World. And at the end of this month I can say that I have been to each of their five schools and shared poetry with them and their classmates. That’s a good thing.

As for the second special saying, here it is:

Growing
Living
Loving
Giving

Today in Rochester, New York, it was sunny in the 60s. My wife and I spent the day cleaning the garage, the shed, weeding, planting, and mowing the grass. My wife likes to work outside. I don’t. I like to bike or golf.

I grew up on Long Island. We had a small front and back yard. I never saw my father mow the grass. He wasn’t a lazy man. He spent most of his life working six to seven days a week as a master plumber, plumbing foreman, and then in his own plumbing business. After that he was a building inspector and a plumbing inspector. Mowing the grass was never a priority. Mom or one of the kids would do it.

I have four reasons for never complaining about cutting the grass, and my lot is big. My neighbor across the street on the left side has spent most of his life in a wheelchair. I am sure he would love to cut my grass if he could. My neighbor across the street on the right side does about five hours of yard work every day, manicuring his lawn, painting, changing his gardens, raking, fertilizing, and watering. Al is near eighty, and he has two artificial knees. I am a homeowner, lucky to have grass and two cars. It is my right and responsibility to cut my grass. Then, just this week, I saw on the TV news a profile a young man who was hit by a train; he lost three out of four limbs and survived the accident. In most cases, it would be a miracle if he could walk. He can run. I kid you not. He has computer chips in both of his artificial legs and he has learned to run, even down steps! Doctors thought that this was impossible. Yet this young man can do the impossible.

I can cut my grass, whether it needs it or not.

For the last four summers, I have gone biking with retired teachers and their spouses or friends on Fridays. It is a very nice group of people in their 50s, 60s, and 70s. We bike 14-20 miles all around Rochester is Monroe County and beyond. We frequently follow the canal path traveling about 11 mph. With one or two breaks along the way. The ride takes us about two and a half hours. Then we eat lunch at an inn or a unique restaurant where we parked our cars earlier in the day.

This is great fun. One may wonder how the 70-year-olds keep up. They are the fastest because they ride road bikes almost effortlessly with thin tires. They can really move on hard surfaces or even in sandy canal paths. As for me, I have a hybrid bike with wider tires that is good on trails and paved roads.

Sometimes it is challenging to keep up if it is windy, rainy or hilly. But when I come home after biking, I feel on a natural high and proud that I exercised in a meaningful manner.

Today was a beautiful day. Could life be better?

I was in the same town that had a library with the latest edition of Who’s Who in America. This was important to me because I was supposedly listed in the 2006 edition. But I never bought the book. How could I be sure if I was listed unless I saw it with my own two eyes? I was not worried about it until I was invited into the 2007 edition, and I didn’t think they had repeat entries. So with my heart beating a little faster I opened the book and looked for my name. Eureka! There is was on page 4,464! Everybody is a somebody, but now I felt official.

Then I went home, and my grandson, David, who has never been that interested in poetry, sent me the first email from him:

“Grandpa, I saw the web you put on the Internet about poetry. It is very cooll. I was also wondering what got you into poetry. I brought my book that you wrote to school and read some and the kids thought it was cool, and so did the teachers.”

David loves the ladies on Dukes of Hazard. So this is what I wrote:

“I got interested in poetry because I’ve always liked words and playing with words. The second reason is that my Uncle Jimmy, who was average-looking, married my Aunt Dolores, who was a knockout. (She looked like one of the ladies on the Dukes of Hazards. I asked him how he ‘won’ such a beautiful wife and he said, ‘Poetry’ That’s how I got interested in poetry, David.”

What a great day, and pizza for supper! It cannot get better than this!

How would you like to learn more, love more, and live more? Would you like to know the secret of success in life? Are you interested or skeptical? I bet both!

Years ago, I used to listen to an inspirational speaker on the radio. He always told inspiring stories, and he had a great voice. Earl Nightingale was the man. My wife and I usually heard his commanding voice and messages while driving to and from work.

Earl died in 1989. And, of course, I have not heard from him since…or about him until I was being offered his recordings. I could buy his inspiring recordings for about $300 with lots of extras thrown in, all part of an online success site. I did not open up my checkbook to do so. I was impressed by the idea of The Strangest Secret, which sold more than a million records and earned him a Gold Record and the undying thanks of those who used the secret to change their lives. It is the only spoken Gold Record.

I was extremely curious about this six-worded secret that could transform lives, but I did not want to pay the big bucks or even little bucks for it. So I went to Amazon.com and I read book reviews of his famous secret book. I hoped that one reader would discuss the secret in the review area.

After reading a number of reviews, I was not disappointed. The one common denominator that all the great self-help gurus agreed on is this: WE BECOME WHAT WE THINK ABOUT. That was Earl’s secret discovery. (Pun intended.)

For at least eight years now I have been thinking fulltime (24/7) in my mind about being a rather successful children’s writer with a number of books published and many speaking performances. And I know what that life feels like in my bones. I want that life.

The school halls are lovely, long and deep. But I have poetry performances to keep. And many steps to take before I rest.

By the way, how goes your journey?

Virginia Woolf said that “A good essay must have this permanent quality about it; it must be a curtain that shuts us in, not out.” The same can be said about poetry. I recently changed the slant on an essay about writing free verse poetry and sent it to The Dabbling Mum, which can be found online; it’s a national publication for busy parents and writers. They liked it enough to publish it on their site. Matter of fact, they said they would be honored to publish it. Ah, that exactly what a writer loves to hear.

I hope their readers enjoy it, my writing group, and you, Gentle Reader.

A lawyer came to our RACWI writing meeting on Thursday. Jennifer introduced him and said that he looks like he is 12-years old, but he is really 17. That got lots of laughs. He looked about 22. When he told us that he charges $185 an hour for his services, I truly started to reconsider my career move into writing. And what about those companies or magazines that want to pay $10 for a 500-word essay? Give me a break. We deserve better.

What did I learn from Mr. Young Lawyer? Well, the highlights follow:

1. From an author’s point of view, is best to copyright your own work if it’s a significant project. You don’t have to tell the publishing company that you have done that. It will just make more work for them. Registering cost about $50.

2. Avoid giving up all rights to a publication.

3. Remember: Anything that goes into a contract is negotiable. There is no standard contract. It’s what you make it.

4. It’s okay to ask for things in a contract that author’s don’t usually receive with their first contract so that you get them with your second contract (with the same publisher).

5. If it’s not stated in the contract you own what’s been left out!

6. It’s very good to have an audit clause in your contract.

7. Make sure that what you wrote is going to come out under your name unless you write for hire.

8. Deadlines are extremely important. When you do a revision, it would be good to know how long the publisher has to accept or reject it.

9. Copyrights last for seven years after your death. For your family sake, you need to have your house in order.

10. Trademarks can last forever if they are renewed.

11. Be sure you understand your contract, especially when and how much you’re going to be paid.

12. If you think that your work has been stolen, it will cost you about $50,000 to fight it. That’s why it’s good to register your work!

I hope that you found this helpful.

As I opened up a brown rejection envelope today, I had a weird experience. I knew what to expect in the envelope: my returned manuscript. Since it was a long picture book manuscript on 24-pound paper, I decided that I wanted it back, not just notification that my story wasn’t right for their company. In the envelope there was an unwelcomed bonus: the manuscript of another writer and her cover letter, besides my manuscript. Well, we all make errors. I sometimes forget to put the SASE inside. But this seems like a rather big mistake. And there was actually another cover letter without a manuscript. It makes you wonder what was going on in the Office of Disappointment. There were even art samples enclosed. Exactly what was that person doing when my brown envelope was sealed? I had my stuff in a folder. This was stuff plus loose papers outside the folder. Even by feeling the fold, I knew that there was something odd about this mail. Now I have to contact the writers involved and the company. Nevertheless, I will think twice before I send a manuscript to them again. All of this for a form letter!

My grandchild, Ryan, is an excellent student. He’s not big on poetry, but he was studying about Greece and Rome. So I decided to introduce him to the mnemonic SPA. SPA is an easy way to remember that Socrates was born first (469 BC), then Plato in 428 BC), and Aristotle in 384 BC. All three were great teachers, thinkers, and philosophers. Ryan said that he used the above when he took his test on Greece and Rome. And that make me feel happy. It was poetic justice.