To Ube From Cup A Joe, Volume IX

At Our First Parting …

At our first parting
How will I miss you?
Let me count the ways
Then count the days

I’ll miss the day’s starting
The smiles and cuddles, too
Your innocent plays
Amidst the sun’s early rays

Won’t miss the morning parting
The drive away from you
Hectic work-world days
So cruel in their delays

Then from work I’m darting
Unknown grins and thoughts of you
And your disarming ways
And the ways your legs splay

Just as my heart is smarting
You see me, I see you
Your smile appears and stays
I hold for what seems like days

The evening’s just starting
A yawn accompanies your coo
Your crib calls, and that’s OK
Whatever love costs, I’ll pay

So dream little dreams, darling
Of blocks and mirrors and giraffes, too
Of cold Decembers and mild Mays
Of fluffy clouds and puppy strays

And on our first parting
Thoughts only for Mom and you
Though I’m miles away
My heart always with you stays

As I count seconds, minutes and days

To Ube From Cup A Joe, Volume VIII

Love's In A Name ...

Ever Ube to me
Yet others
Always
My own tiny Puddin’ Pop
A Wriggle Monkey who wriggles nonstop
Our own Little Miss Peanut, ‘tis true
A Fidget Monster with eyes so blue
A Booster Seat and my Mini-Scoot
A Toadstool with love at its root
A Dumplin’ on a Sunshine day
A Wee Buggin on a Gigdmo word play
A Tater Tot for a morning meal
Small Pants make all seem so real
A Tadpole under shade of night
A Punkin by dawn’s first light
Wee Britches in the day’s middle
Lunchtime for my Tiny Little
Big Girl in a smallish shirt
At Christmastime, a Tree Skirt
A Tidbit as time does fly
Ever after, our own Small Fry
Beautiful, Wee, Pretty, Tiny
Charmin(g) is the song of your hiney
Wee Loly Bean, when it’s time for a hug
A smile easily found, with thoughts of my Lola Bug

To Ube From Cup A Joe, Volume VII

Speed and soar, languish and burn, I plod thru stretches and race thru mountains, me, us, three, wandering but on a found path, chosen but not selected, picked but not preferred, a life of second choices, an existence of do-overs, a world of informed decisions, me, sugar in my pocket, a tater tot for a heart, kicked into awakeness and lied into awareness, the tricks, the pleas, the games unplayed, cynicism unfurled, hope unleashed, memories unremembered, I walk on, wise man's burden, the former me walking in my shadow, who I was only yesterday, who I am a lurking tomorrow, so chase that mirage, pursue the brilliance, up around that bend isn't what you thought it was, because that music plays on another realm -- or plane?-- the realm I live in a barrier to sound, strong enough to bear, smart enough to release, but don't release, pile it on me, keep kicking my wakefulness, I carry all I need on my back and shoulders, this new shell has shed that other skin, in the pinprick of a heartbeat, so lo my optimism, lay down that cynic's heart, cast aside that ironic banner, it's me, who I always was and knew was always there, in that shadow, behind that other shadow, waiting for that perfect place in the valley, in the mountain, in the canyon, to step out into the light, my light, now only to carry it to this next place, where no shadows dwell where the light always shines, my light, my valley, my mountain, my canyon, my light, hear this feel this, it is, it must be, my light. My light.

To Ube From Cup A Joe, Volume VI

Listen. Always take the chance. Try not to second guess. Find an outlet for creativity. Learn how to conversate. Don't just wait until the other person stops talking; actively listen. Don't drink and drive. But drink. And become a good driver. Don't ever say "I wish" -- do it or forget it. Be fair to whoever you're with. Don't cheat; you'll never improve. Try to be amicable -- but remember that everything ends badly, or else it wouldn't end. Forgive, but don't forget. Sometimes it is OK to be bitter. Do something just for you every once in a while. Don't expect or chase credit; it only comes when you're not looking for it. Work hard. Inspiration comes in the unlikeliest of places and when you're not expecting it -- don't let it pass. Take advantage of it. Learn to spell well. Be thankful. Nothing takes you further than a handwritten note. Make yourself essential. Make eye contact. Be the person that you'd be drawn to. Don't give third chances. Remember that people don't ever really change—always remember this. You are going to like -- or even love -- more than one person at a time. There is nothing wrong with that that can't be solved with a decision. Be tender; be true. Always remember who you are -- even if you're not really sure -- because the only thing you have in this world is your name. Protect it with your life. Don't make excuses; come up with solutions. Usually it's easier to ask forgiveness than permission. Don't do anything halfway. Find at least one thing that you are truly passionate about. Try to find the instrument inside you. Music truly makes the world go 'round. Be artistic. Cultivate a sense or humor -- there are few things more important and few possessions more prized. Be political. Have an opinion. Take a stand. Vote. Develop a positive self-image. Don't measure yourself with anyone else's scale but your own. Disagree with your parents. But cherish them. Listen to a child's laugh sometimes. Look at things through a child's eyes sometimes. Sit outside whenever you can. Lose yourself in books as often as you can. Read. Not online, but something you can have and hold. Especially the classics. They are the foundation of our culture. Be bold. Laugh at yourself as often as at others. Accept constructive criticism. But defend yourself against criticism. Think whether this will be important in five years. Think in context. Find heroes. Believe in the unbelievable. Be a cynic. But never lose hope. Be the change you wish to see in the world. Be the one who reaches out. Fiercely protect your friends. One day you will wake up and realize that they are actually your family. Choose them wisely. Remember that who you're with is who you are. Do something you're not supposed to. But don't do it twice. Challenge yourself -- no one else might. You are never going to get anything you don't ask for. "No" isn't ever as bad as you think it will be. Laugh a lot. You can wonder, but limit that. If it becomes "if only," take action. You can change the world in you. Be a hero to one other person. Cry a lot. Pick something to really throw yourself into. Pick one thing every year that you'd like to learn about. Question the world. Raise your hand. Show your heart. Have a dog. They are the only thing in our world that loves you more than it loves itself. You can learn things you never knew existed simply by looking in their eyes. You can change yourself. Never give up. Be your own biggest fan. Ask for help. More people love you than you know. Love yourself first. Be able to turn it off. Be able to walk away. Be able to laugh it off. Be a person who talks to at least one other person they don't know at every party. Have a great toast memorized. Take relationships seriously. If you decide to be in one, be in one. If you think you like someone else, you're not in the relationship you think you're in anymore. Communicate. It's OK to move on. Your heart will be broken. You will break a heart. It's one more thing that isn't as important as it seems, except to show you you're alive. Be impulsive. Travel. Immerse. Stand in awe sometimes. Find a way to be spiritual. But not for anyone else -- for you. Spend time in quiet thought every day. Turn off the TV sometimes. Don't waste time very much -- maybe a little. Take a nap every now and again. Be open-minded. Don't let one person represent a culture. Learn about the world. Educate yourself. Be a skeptic. There's a reason the word "healthy" usually comes in front of "skepticism." Form your own opinions. Create your own conclusions. Go against the flow. Swim against the tide. Walk apart from the herd; be your own herd. Don't let others determine what you believe.

Scooter & Hum’s Top Five Books Of The Year 2009

Despite a year filled with wedding planning, marriage, pregnancy and a wee baby, I somehow found time to digest some wonderful books in ’09. I’ve only been doing this ranking for a few years (check out 2007 and 2008), but this was easily the most difficult ranking I’ve had to do. I can only hope that I can work my way through as many tremendous works in 2010.

So without further ado, here are “The Scooties” winners:



#1. “The Road,” by Cormac McCarthy

What I Wrote Then:
“In this world of blogs and tweets, 10-second sound bites and podcasts, iPhone apps and texts, we are losing the ability to truly impact other human beings through the written word. We absorb, we scan, we move on. We don’t think, we don’t digest, we don’t consider. As a writer, it can be quite frustrating, upsetting and frightening, to see the language stolen, to see prose and grammar bastardized, to see tone twisted. So to find a book that reads like a 300-page punch to the diaphragm … to stumble across a work of art that evokes emotion … to not so much read, as experience, a piece that elevates as it depresses … it can restore a little faith to a vessel that’s increasingly found wanting. And if I found anything in McCarthy’s stark, gray, lonely, ashen, tilted world, it was that—a rediscovery of inspiration through literature, blooming like a solitary white rose in a field of rock.
“Being a witness to McCarthy’s immense talents can be a bit overwhelming and make you feel unworthy of calling yourself a writer … but it still made the journey along this road an unforgettable and awe-inspiring experience.”

What I Say Now:
This was a tough list to put together because is it is difficult to rank so many good, classic books in some kind of order. But the easiest choice was this one; that’s how good “The Road” was. In some strange way, McCarthy’s prose sort of gave me back some of the belief I had lost in the written word … and I know of no higher compliment to pay an author. McCarthy’s prose is black-and-white proof that less is more, that sparse can be mind-blowing, that gray can be beautiful.

Read My Review

Passage to Remember:

“I want to be with you.”
“You can’t.”
“Please.”
“You can’t. You have to carry the fire.”
“I don’t know how to.”
“Yes you do.”
“Is it real? The fire?”
“Yes it is.”
“Where is it? I don’t know where it is.”
“Yes you do. It’s inside you. It was always there. I can see it.”



#2. “War and Peace,” by Leo Tolstoy

What I Wrote Then:
“With its voluminous length and the hard work required to complete it, ‘War and Peace’ has basically become synonymous with any supremely long, boring or insanely difficult work. Even the largely unfunny Woody Allen once said, ‘I read “War and Peace” in 20 minutes. It involves Russia.’
“Initially, I was drawn to this read by a desire to familiarize myself with Tolstoy's work and to simply be able to say that I freaking read ‘War and Peace.’ Gradually, though, I began to get sucked into the story—especially the statements on the proceedings of the Moscow elite—and to recognize Tolstoy's profound brilliance and unique style.”

What I Say Now:
I think that embracing the challenge of “War and Peace” is such an undertaking that, when you’re in the midst of it, it’s easy to lose sight of the subtleties and nuances of the story. It may be that only after time and distance does reflection show what a marvelous job Tolstoy did in joining myriad plot lines and creating—and involving you in—a memorable world. This true classic was truly worth both the time and effort.

Read My Review

Passage to Remember:

"She turned round. For a few seconds they gazed silently into one another's eyes—and what had seemed impossible and remote suddenly became possible, inevitable and very near."



#3. “Hell’s Angels,” by Hunter S. Thompson

What I Wrote Then:
“It is this tone that permeates the book; Thompson doesn’t shy away from the controversial or dance around the despicable. He tells it the way he knows best: all details included and no holds barred, letting you decide what you want to believe and how you want to feel about it. At the conclusion, it’s still not apparent whether it is a more or less complex deal than what you would think; the Hell’s Angels aren’t complex or misunderstood. They are just outlaws who live in a world of their own morality and making; as Thompson maintains, they are losers, pure and simple. They aim to take out their unvoiced frustration on a world they don’t understand, then blame it on the world for not understanding their frustration and taking issue with the attack itself. In the end, they’re just wandering thugs; in the end, none of it meant anything anyway. After all, this is who they were and nothing more, nothing heroic or romantic, notable only for the same reason society has always been drawn to those who live on the edges of morality.
“The larger story is the birth of Gonzo journalism through its mainstream publication in ‘Hell’s Angels.’ The idea that Thompson partially becomes the story, and impartiality be damned, is ultimately crystallized in this work that partly reads like one long op-ed piece. The high of creating an entirely new literary genre must be similar to the way Thompson tries to explain the thrill of winding out his bike on the open road …”

What I Say Now:
To say it was a year of Hunter S. Thompson at Scooter & Hum would be an understatement. After tackling the epic “Gonzo,” I wanted to read some early Hunter S. Thompson, before he turned into, well, Hunter S. Thompson. I wanted to find the piece that launched a new literary genre and reflected the raw, emotional genius before it was degraded and diminished by years and years of truly hellacious abuse. In “Hell’s Angels,” we see the master before he became, essentially, a prisoner of himself; here we see Hunter S. Thompson blurring the lines of journalism, satire, fiction and comedy.

Read My Review

Passage to Remember:

“It has to be done right … and that’s when the strange music starts, when you stretch your luck so far that fear becomes exhilaration and vibrates along your arms … The Edge … There is no honest way to explain it because the only people who really know where it is are the ones who have gone over.
“The others -- the living -- are those who pushed their control as far as they felt they could handle it, and then pulled back, or slowed down, or did whatever they had to when it came time to choose between Now and Later.”



#4. “Walden,” by Henry David Thoreau

What I Wrote Then:
“This is one of those books that had been on my list to read for years, and, as commonly happens with the classics, some new book usually comes along to topple an older one down the priority order. Yet, I couldn’t escape the importance of reading “Walden”; after all, in Henry David Thoreau’s words, “For what are the classics but the noblest recorded thoughts of man?” So I finally stopped putting it off and jumped into what turned out be somewhat of a tough read—but well worth it … So what did Thoreau truly learn in his escape into the woods and the lake? It depends on how you choose to read “Walden” and the life experiences you elect to call upon in deciding which aspects of the piece to highlight. After all, it’s part autobiography, part environmental essay, part rejection of society, part motivational book, part Luddite thesis, part celebration of life, part zoology textbook … and many other things as well.”

What I Say Now:
“Walden” probably deserves to be higher due to the sheer number of epic quotations it has delivered, but I thought it got a bit disjointed at times and wasn’t cohesive enough to keep me involved. It became more of a chore to read than “Hell’s Angels,” and that was the deciding factor in my mind. However, in terms of arguably being the defining book of the environmentalist movement and a wide-ranging thinktank on so many disparate subjects, it truly is an amazing piece of work, an awe-inspiring window into one man’s never-stopping mind. The reality is that you could throw any of these four books into a bag and pull them out in any order and it would be just as acceptable to me.

Read My Review

Passage to Remember:

“I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.”



#5. “Just After Sunset,” by Stephen King

What I Wrote Then:
“As much as I love Stephen King's brilliant novels such as the incomparable ‘The Stand,’ the terrifying 'It' and the epic series ‘The Dark Tower’ -- among many others -- I've always been even more of a fan of his short stories. Having dabbled in the medium in the past, I know how brutally difficult it can be to sketch characters, build drama and create a plot that doesn't feel rushed, all within the constraints of the short-story format. Yet King has always been able to do it with a deft touch that makes it look frustratingly easy.
“After poring through ‘Just After Sunset,’ it's easy to say that -- paraphrasing Mark Twain -- rumors of Stephen King's demise (or retirement, which may amount to the same thing for someone like King) have been greatly exaggerated … and for that, I'm thankful.”

What I Say Now:
This tremendous collection of short stories would certainly rank higher in almost any other year, but “Just After Sunset” simply had the misfortune of being read by me within the same 12 months as many epic classics. Put simply, King rates among the finest short-story writers ever, aided by his innate—and almost scary—ability to create well-rounded characters rhythmically, and almost without you even realizing it. As his career has progressed, he has increasingly called on personal experiences and current events, and as I prepare to take on his new novel, the 20-pound “Under the Dome,” I selfishly hope that he still has another short story collection or two left in that nonstop brain of his.

Read My Review

Passage to Remember:

"Reality is a mystery … and the everyday texture of things is the cloth we draw over it to mask its brightness and darkness. I think we cover the faces of corpses for the same reason. We see the faces of the dead as a kind of gate. It's shut against us … but we know it won't always be shut. Someday it will swing open for each of us, and each of us will go through.
"But there are places where the cloth gets ragged and reality is thin. The face beneath peeps through … but not the face of a corpse. It would almost be better if it was."


Editor’s Note: I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention a lengthy list of honorable-mention winners that I read this year: “Do You Know What It Means to Miss New Orleans” (collection), “Gonzo” (Jann Wenner), “Full Frontal PR” (Richard Laermer), “Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy” (Douglas Adams), “The Tin Roof Blowdown” (James Lee Burke) and “Darkness, Take My Hand” (Dennis Lehane) were among the other standouts of ’09.

Happy New Year, all!

To Ube From Cup A Joe, Volume V

"Soothen My Seether"

Life unfolds
Like a string of broken promises
You search for the pearl
Amidst the wreckage
You comb
Fine tooth
But poorly said
It’s the long road
But it’s the only path
Days become months
Become years
Become decades
Missing spots
And moments
Gone
Not forgotten
Some remembered
Tender melancholy
Drifted with harsh reality
I’ve seen you standing there
Obscured by impostors
In challenging times
Revealed in challenging climes
Who taught me to trust again?
Surrounded by essence
Purified by soul
In red times
I try to recall
What you were here for
Put by my side
In the unlikeliest of ways
Temperament through hope
Compassion through trust
Love through days
And through
This next chapter
A page turns
As does a life
Master the emotions
Calm the bile
Temper the tantrum
Reserve the rage
Anchor the anger
No room for it
In who I am
In who I hope to become
In who I need to emerge
Tested over and over
Shine through it all
Find the diamond
Amidst the coal
Polish me
Pressure me
Resolve me
Forge me
Make me
Imagine me
Look for me
I’ll be standing
Switched
And traded places
In the security
Love in four
Trust in womb
Pink and green
Override ride
Soften me
Make me like that
All the time
Not sometimes
Where there is no longer
Room for skips
Or air for hiccups
So be my soother
The beauty like no other
Has been replaced
By a true another
I’ll back you up
No reservations
No limitations
Open
Undefended
Not guarded
Caution in the wind
Like a dandelion
That’s real
And not hoped
Together with cobwebs
And holes
Believe in me
And I in you
Is all I’ll need
To help soothe
The seether
In me

To Ube From Cup A Joe, Vol. IV

“A Shore Unseen”

A seashore shaped
By tides unseen
Grains shift
Shells collide
Bubbles grow
Combine
Burst
Make way
That shore
Never the same
From one moment
To the next
In an instant
A new entity
A different landscape
A changed home
They say light
Is like water
And water
Is like love
Do you know
What all of that means
Curled
Inside
You can come out of that shell
To a different seashore
Put your toe in
After all
I’ll always remind you
Water is like love
Is like light
So grab your paddle
And point
To a welcoming shore

To Ube From Cup A Joe, Vol. III

“Sentiments As You Slept”

When my shoulders ache
And the dust does rise
Though in white I am caked
I can almost see your eyes
And I realize just what’s at stake

In a dirty room I toil
‘Til I’ve worn every muscle
And though the heat does boil
It’s worth the hustle and bustle
Because to you I’ll always be loyal

So keep holding on tight
And just know this is true
I pray for you every night
As I know you know I do
I’ll protect you with all my might

And from the very start
When I didn’t know your name
You found your way to my heart
I hope you’ll feel the same
When at last we’re no longer apart

As the days number few
And anticipation builds
I promise that through
Lowest lows and highest thrills
I’ll always try my best for you

To Ube From Cup A Joe, Vol. II

“Waiting for Ube”

Sometimes when I drive
And imbecility does thrive
“Through With People” will play
And I’ll sigh as I say
“How do I keep hope alive?”

Will you help me turn the page
On this occasional rage?
Will your eyes make me breathe
And your dimples make me leave
All that in an outgrown stage?

So how will things change
In my emotional range?
With you on my chest
Will I strive for the best?
To think of it is really quite strange

Because maturity’s a duty
I do it all for Ube
Though she may be asleep
She hears the promises I’ll keep
With a love that shines like a ruby

So help me seize the day
In your silent but present way
Put an end to this sigh
Point your finger to the sky
One word you won’t have to say

I believe in you already
My emotions I’ll steady
This interminable wait
The by-product of fate
You’ll believe in me too when you’re ready

Your weight I do bear
As we take every care
To ready your home
Where you’ll explore and roam
Excitement builds as I prepare

Though the questions do mount
As every day we count
When the moment arrives
And you complete our lives
Do I have responsibility in the proper amount?

I’m sure they’re natural fears
Though accompanied by tears
But the one thing I know
That you’ll learn as you go
I’ll be your biggest fan across the years

As we finally meet our little pearl
And watch your tiny fingers unfurl
My belief, it will just cement
That I was always meant
To be Daddy to a little girl