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Previous Entry
Journal Index
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Emily's Geiger counter number: 4
Today's starting pitcher:
Tim
Wakefield
Last night's summary:
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R
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H
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E
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LOB
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Boston
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000 001 000 00
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1
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5
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1
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6
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Anaheim
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100 000 000 01
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2
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9
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1
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11
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Note extra innings. I stayed up way too late. Bad enough
the game is on Pacific Daylight Time, but 11 innings too!
And they lost. But it was exciting.
The sky is a cloudless pale robin's egg blue. A baby is
bawling in the parking lot. Some kids are playing basketball
at the approved basketball hoop across the lot (as opposed
to the one that was next to my gate and got torn down).
No sign of Tom or Ned or any of the usual suspects today.
I ate my Earthfood Store lunch, drank my grande latte, and
came home to pay bills. I snail mailed a copy of my
Thresholds poem to Ned and
one to Tom.
Ned's nom du poetry is Ned Clay. I don't think he chose
it after the character in Anne of Avonlea, but it
fits. Here's the passage:
"I wish you could
see some of their compositions. . .so much do I wish it that
I'll send you copies of some written recently. Last week I
told the fourth class I wanted them to write me letters
about anything they pleased, adding by way of suggestion
that they might tell me of some place they had visited or
some interesting thing or person they had seen. They were to
write the letters on real note paper, seal them in an
envelope, and address them to me, all without any assistance
from other people. Last Friday morning I found a pile of
letters on my desk and that evening I realized afresh that
teaching has its pleasures as well as its pains. Those
compositions would atone for much. Here is Ned Clay's,
address, spelling, and grammar as originally penned.
"`Miss teacher ShiRley
Green gabels.
p.e. Island can
birds
"`Dear teacher I think I will write you a
composition about birds. birds is very useful animals. my
cat catches birds. His name is William but pa calls him tom.
he is oll striped and he got one of his ears froz of last
winter. only for that he would be a good-looking cat. My
unkle has adopted a cat. it come to his house one day and
woudent go away and unkle says it has forgot more than most
people ever knowed. he lets it sleep on his rocking chare
and my aunt says he thinks more of it than he does of his
children. that is not right. we ought to be kind to cats and
give them new milk but we ought not be better to them than
to our children. this is oll I can think of so no more at
present from
edward blake ClaY.'"
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