Wednesday's for Kids XXI -- FIELD TRIPS

Sorry I didn't post this yesterday.  We were on a field trip.

Forget the books for a day.  Take your kids (or yourself) on a field trip.

Yesterday, my family went up to Temple Square in Salt Lake City and spent the better part of the entire day in and out of museums, historical sites, and The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints' spectacular gardens.  My kids seemed most "in to" (yes, this is true) the Church's historical museum, and went from display to display eager to hear my wife or me read them the curated descriptions.  My favorite was the tour we got the Conference Center (the largest "single-point" auditorium in the world, with apparently gravity-defying feats of structural engineering), the artworks (paintings, sculptures--all originals) throughout the lobbies and waiting areas, and the rooftop gardens and waterfall (and this aside from the organ and auditorium acoustics, which, unfortunately, were not on demonstration).

As a family, we take field trips quite frequently (and generally less religiously oriented than yesterday, despite, and contrary to, what many may otherwise think as we are indeed Mormons in Utah).  They're great for building family (optimistically) ties and (jadedly) tolerance.  We listen to music and audio books in the car.  We pack picnics.  We walk and giggle and explore.

Not sure where to begin?  Get on your city and state websites and hunt around a bit.  Though I'd be lying if I claimed that all places were created [on the potential-for-field-trip-scale] equal, every place everywhere (and I mean every place everywhere) has stuff to see, visit, and do.  There's no place without a history, or, well, near someplace that is.

WHAT RHYMES WITH ORANGE?

Nothing (and this doesn't count), right?  Oxford says no, anyway.  And they're the authorities, right?

Maybe not.

Try this out (say it out loud if you need to): what sound does the letter R make?  Based on everything you know about consonants and vowels, wouldn't you call "rrrr" a vowel?  After all, it acts just like a vowel.  Doubt me?  Compare the relative positioning your mouth assumes for R against A, E, I, O, or U.  Bearing this in mind, as well as the subtle dialectical shifting of the "schwa" (especially that of my 3-year-old, which, in this case, more closely resembles the "soft" I; and what, really, defines the "perfect" (referring again to the Oxford from above) pronunciation of any vowel, vowels being, after all, the first phonemes to change in any living language?), I have now found a word, in English, that rhymes with ORANGE, at least if we presume that in order to rhyme with orange, the final consonant, as well as the previous two vowel sounds, must echo precisely that of the next word, then ...

(drum roll) 

... the word SYRINGE rhymes with ORANGE.

THE WALL'S NEXT BOOK (we're winding up for our 6th already!)

Our last book, The Mysterious Flame of Queen Loana (discussed here; reviewed here), by Umberto Eco, was a bit of a monster; I'm hoping we can decide on a slightly shorter, simpler text next (though not necessarily "easier," if you get my drift).  I've got some thoughts, but would love to hear your ideas first.

Please, sound off below.

Þ




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Sunday Poetry XXIV -- NO MORE A TEACHER & John Keats' "THIS LIVING HAND"

It hit me this past week--for some reason with particular vigor while monitoring the cafeteria at lunch, of all things or places--how terribly I am going to miss being a teacher.  Not preparing lessons and "molding young minds" and grading papers, but being a part--and integral part--of the lives of children and teenagers.  If I'm any good at teaching, it's not because of my subject or my love for it, but because I know and love and "get" kids.  They are my kids, and this living hand, no matter how I try--successful or not--to extend my own to them, is rather theirs, whether they're aware or no, to me:

This living hand, now warm and capable

Of earnest grasping, would, if it were cold

And in the icy silence of the tomb,

So haunt thy days and chill thy dreaming nights

That thou wouldst wish thine own heart dry of blood

So in my veins red life might scream again,

And thou be conscience-calmed—see here it is—

I hold it toward you.

This is one of my very favorite Keats' poems, and so it is for its depth and how it keeps hidden down there its immense beauty and, despite the inelegance of the word, its personableness.  Maybe you'll "get" it right away.  Not me.  It took me several reads--I had to work at it--before it hit home.  Even now, I have to read it twice.

Another Creative Writing Challenge -- 1.618...

if not the GR exactly, try Fibonacci

The Golden Ratio has fascinated me for quite some time (and though I'm not proud to admit it, I would be remiss if I did not:  It was Dan  Brown, via The Da Vinci Code, who introduced it me).  About the same time I read The DVC, I was learning about the Oulipo.  My thought then and still--simple enough in concept but in practice perhaps, at worst, impossible, and at best, monstrously impractical and inartistic--is to use this ratio as an Oulipian restriction for some type/piece of creative writing.  Maybe write a poem where each stanza increases its letter count by increments of the ratio and maybe that poem could be about a conch shell (okay, that's stupid) or the dimensions of someone's beautiful face (cheesy to the extreme of bad Shakespeare imitations) or the evidence of God in nature (or lack thereof, depending on how you see things--as potentially good as bad) by its exquisite design.  I don't know.  I've tried many times and failed, miserably, on each attempt.  Maybe I just need a good idea to build from.

What do you think?

Got an idea?

Can you do it?

Care to share?