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Dancing, and fighting, in the dark

Joanne — Fri, 19 Sep 2008 00:17:05 +0000

Against a backdrop of eerie shadows cast by the flickering flames from the orange-red firelight, the two predators circled each other warily.
Drawing ever closer, at last they made their move, lunging and grappling, then breaking apart only to attack again.
As if to match the movement of the shadows all around them, they leaped high into the air, their bodies arching gracefully, answering to a moment that called for finesse rather than brute strength, every move one of elegant fierceness.
Then they sat down on the living room floor and looked around, bored again.
Sometimes I think cats are crazy, but when the power is out, they certainly can be entertaining.
Normally, they would have been racing each other up and down the stairs, sounding like a herd of small elephants. They do that a lot. I’ve been thinking about building a small arena and strapping little Ben Hur-type chariots onto the kitties, just to make it interesting. Put in a couple of toy mice as “drivers” and they’d be all set.
Normally, TJ would have been stopping occasionally to put his front paws up beside the television screen and watch for a while, but, no power, no TV.
Lizzy likes to roam and meddle, which she can do in the dark as well as the light, but I don’t think it’s as much fun when there’s no chance of someone catching her batting the artificial flowers around and knocking over the vase. When she does something like that, she zips out of the room, only to casually stroll back in in a moment, her face absolutely glowing with the sweetness of innocence.
Having regrouped after their “fight,” they did something else they like to do. They play a game of “I don’t see you,” walking back and forth past each other while pretending the other is invisible.
This time, perhaps inspired by the candlelight and the dancing shadows it created, they picked up the pace. It was like watching the opening moves of a carefully choreographed dance, performed to a manic beat that only they could hear. At any moment, I expected them to turn in the same direction and engage in a forcefully and artistically executed tango (think Al Pacino and his partner in “Scent of a Woman”).
Instead, they slowed down, still walking in opposite directions, so I began singing “Strangers in the Night.”
That put a stop to the pacing, and quickly. They sat down, huddled together and fixed me with twin stares.
I hadn’t expected applause, but I hadn’t expected to frighten the poor things, either.
About that time, my son, who had been having a long, soaking bath by candlelight, poked his head around the door and said, “I was deep into my meditation, and then I heard someone singing ‘Strangers in the Night.’”
I think I frightened him, too.
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Persinger is community editor for The Tribune. She may be reached at (812) 523-7063 or jpersinger@tribtown.com.

The day after

Joanne — Thu, 11 Sep 2008 23:52:52 +0000

Seven years ago Sept. 11, Americans woke up and began what they expected to be a routine day.
Seven years ago Sept. 12, they woke up with the knowledge of the living nightmare that had happened the day before.
The terrorist attacks of Sept. 11, 2001, left people in the entire country shocked, fearful and angry. There was outrage, but there was also something else stirring, something that showed in the way that people of all types of backgrounds stood together as one.
In New York, people gathered together in groups to talk, to pray, to ask for news of the missing, to light candles. They were of different faiths, different skin colors, different countries of origin, but all that seemed to flicker away in the candlelight. In that terrible time, they were simply Americans, and more importantly, human beings.
It was a scene that played out across the country.
Not everyone lost a loved one that day in New York or Washington or Pennsylvania, but many prayed for those who did, and they prayed together.
Not everyone could personally comfort those who mourned, but they let them know, in whatever way they could, that each person who died on Sept. 11 was not just another number on a list, but an individual with their own unique life.
A lot has changed since then, not the least of which is that this country, once so united in a time of enormous tragedy, is locked in a struggle within itself.
Americans disagree on just about everything, from how, and when, to end the nation’s presence in Iraq to whether, and where, to drill for oil.
Americans have always been a scrappy bunch, and there’s nothing wrong with that. The problem today seems to be that the country is split down the middle, and no one has any interest in building bridges. Political bipartisanship seems to have become sadly, even dangerously, lacking.
The country has some serious problems, and it’s going to take a lot of folks working together to get them fixed.
There’s nothing that says the solution to a problem has to come from government. Solutions can come from anyone — individuals, think tanks or grass-roots organizations. This country is full of people who are intelligent and experienced and value common sense. They are capable of solving problems and they are capable of recognizing an excellent idea when it’s put before them.
There’s no more time for bickering, by those in office or anyone else.
If Americans don’t come together on some major issues, and soon, the infighting may accomplish what the terrorists of Sept. 11 couldn’t.
Let’s put aside our differences now and work toward a better day, and an even better one the day after.
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Persinger is community editor for The Tribune. She may be reached at (812) 523-7063 or jpersinger@tribtown.com.

SICA sets up photo exhibit

Joanne — Thu, 01 May 2008 23:30:39 +0000

A new show at Southern Indiana Center for the Arts in Seymour features one of my favorite art forms — photographs.
The exhibit, the Carl Morrison Photography Show, which runs through the end of May, displays the work of Hayden native Carl “Mo” Morrison, a travel photographer and writer now living in California.
I don’t know yet what the exact subject matter is for the photo exhibit, but I saw a sampling of Morrison’s work at the Web site MoKnows Photos.com.
Scrolling down the Web site, I saw some unique photographs, divided into Morrison’s “projects” — pictures from across the country, steam trains, landscapes, lighthouses, trains, covered bridges, classic cars and even a collection of neon signs.
I’ll have to admit, though, that my favorite “project” was the one tagged “Automotive Brightwork.” We’re talking the real deal, here — Cadillac fins and Studebakers with their distinctive “nose,” Pontiac hood ornaments and a (be still, my heart) red 1957 Chevy with a continental kit.
I was impressed, too, with the back end of a 1959 DeSoto, and a Stutz grille.
One photo really took me back. It showed a fin with the words “The Wanderer” written on it. I don’t think I was quite in my teens when it became the fashion for boys to make their cars more distinctive by adding a couple of words. It was usually the name of a song popular at that particular time. (Wasn’t it Dion who sang “The Wanderer”?) The only specific name I recall was “Moonlight Gambler,” after the song. That fad seemed to disappear almost as soon as it began, but it was fun while it lasted.
There are plenty of photos on Morrison’s site, including some really nice covered bridge pictures (a couple are from Jackson County). I expect his train photos would be especially appealing to local model railroading buffs.
An opening reception for Morrison’s show will be held from 5:30 p.m. to 7:30 p.m. today at SICA, 2001 N. Ewing St.
The arts center has a full summer ahead, and its activities aren’t limited to exhibits. According to its most recent schedule, the first Friday Night Live performance is set for May 9. I work most Friday nights, so I wasn’t able to catch any of the shows last year, but I heard from several different people who did attend and said they had a great time. Performing at the first show this year will be the Apostolic Tabernacle Choir and the Peace Lutheran Praise Team, and I heard some really great things about them from someone who heard them sing at a recent event.
As always, SICA also will have other offerings that range from pottery to art classes to art camp.
It’s warming up and blossoms are everywhere. It’s a great time to line up some spring and summer activities that are close to home.
SICA is at 2001 N. Ewing St. For information, call 522-2278 or visit www.soinart.com.
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Persinger is community editor for The Tribune. She may be reached at (812) 523-7063 or jpersinger.com.

Fogdogs and delta moments

Joanne — Fri, 25 Apr 2008 00:43:06 +0000

Teapots, buttons or Coca-Cola signs — if it exists, someone will collect it.
I collect words.
“Osmosis,” for example. Forget its biology-based first and second definitions in Webster’s. Go straight to the third definition, the one that describes a “seemingly effortless absorption of ideas, feelings, attitudes.”
We learn two ways, especially when we’re children. One is through instruction and study. The other involves an absorption of knowledge that takes place every day, a process so subtle we’re not even aware of it. We learn by osmosis. That, and bad experiences that give us a really big smack and definitely are not an example of learning by osmosis.
“Miasma” is a word I liked a lot better before I learned exactly what it meant. I thought it sounded wispy, delicate. Yep, “vapor rising as from marshes or decomposing animal or vegetable matter” is bound to be wispy. And delicate.
Here’s a word I just happened to run across: “fogdog.” It’s “a bright spot seen at the horizon as a fog starts to dissipate.” “Fogdog” doesn’t sound like a bright spot to me, but more like something hunkering in the shadows.
I always liked the word “trinket,” applied to an inexpensive ornament or piece of jewelry. I also liked the trinkets themselves. I had fake jewelry all over the place — literally —when I was a little girl. It didn’t take long for the gem in a 59 cent “diamond” ring to wind up in one room and its setting in another. My “pearls” always came unstrung; my pop beads popped their last soon after purchase. I’ll say one thing, though. I got the good out of every single one of those 59 pennies. Life was meant to be lived, dollinks.
Another favorite was “cotillion.” I was always reading some novel set in the past in which young ladies would attend cotillions, or balls. They always got to dance with handsome young military officers. Yes, “cotillion” was good. “Sock hop” just didn’t have quite the same ring to it.
“Mississippi” is a great word. I used to listen to “Mississippi Delta” on the B side of “Ode to Billy Joe,” and Bobbie Gentry would sing “M-i-double s-i-double s-i-double p-i.” As she belted that out in her raspy voice, I felt like I really was right there in the Mississippi Delta.
Another Bobbie Gentry song had one of my favorite words of all time in it. “Copasetic.” I know exactly what copasetic means, beyond its definition of “good, fine, excellent.”
For me, it describes those moments when your own little planets have aligned and you are at peace with the world and, most importantly, with yourself. It’s the feeling of complete relaxation that follows an afternoon in the pool, when, freshly showered, and dressed in your favorite pair of well-worn jeans and an old, soft shirt, you turn on some blues, put your feet up and just drift.
You have just entered the delta zone, and it’s all copasetic now.
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Persinger is community editor for The Tribune. She may be reached at (812) 523-7063 or jpersinger@tribtown.com.

Indiana rivers, from A to Z

Joanne — Thu, 17 Apr 2008 23:45:05 +0000

If I could travel back in time, one of the places I would visit is southern Indiana, including right here where I live.
I’d go back to a time when nothing was here except plants and wildlife and the occasional hunting party passing through. I’ve read stories of what it was like back then, and I don’t know if someone from the present could even take in what they were seeing.
Most of all, I would want to see the streams and rivers, before they became murky and polluted. Of all the many environmental concerns today, I worry most about the water supply.
Before the past few years, I had been concerned most about the quality of water. But with some states eyeing each other’s water supplies, and since the drought here last summer, I also worry now about the availability of water.
It isn’t just water for human beings that is important. Water, plentiful and unpolluted, is necessary to sustain wildlife and plant life, not to mention crops and livestock, including horses.
In looking up some information on water resources, I ran across a Web site, www.in.gov/dnr/riverwatch. I had read about Hoosier Riverwatch in the past, but I took the opportunity to browse through the site and found it interesting.
According to the Web site, Hoosier Riverwatch, a state-sponsored water quality monitoring initiative, was begun in 1994 to increase public awareness of water quality issues by training volunteers to monitor stream water quality. Hoosier Riverwatch collaborates with agencies and volunteers to provide educa-tion about watersheds, increase public involvement in water quality issues, promote responsible stew-ardship of water resources and provide water quality information to citizens and government officials working to protect rivers and streams.
It’s sponsored by the Indiana Department of Natural Resources-Division of Fish and Wildlife, and funding is provided in part by the Federal Sport Fish Restoration Fund.
Some of the information the site provides is how to get involved and take training sessions. It explains what a watershed is and furnishes a map showing watershed areas in Indiana, gives an overview of wa-ter monitoring and related assessments and furnishes Adopt-A-River guidelines and an online data search, along with other information and related links.
Something that caught my eye was an Indiana rivers quiz, which you can reach by clicking on Educational Resources.
Twenty-six rivers are listed, with an A-Z list of information about them. I found out I was woefully un-knowledgeable about Indiana’s rivers.
Here’s a description of one of them: “It drains only 500 square miles and its Miami name means “sap of the bloodroot.” The river? The Salamonie.
If you want to have a little fun and maybe learn more about Indiana’s environment, there are still 25 rivers to be matched with descriptions.
Take the quiz yourself, and you’ll probably be amazed at how much I didn’t know.
And if you’re so inclined, say a little prayer for good crops this year, and pray for hay for the horses.
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Persinger is community editor for The Tribune. She may be reached at (812) 523-7063 or jpers-inger@tribtown.com.

Love children? Educate them

Joanne — Thu, 10 Apr 2008 23:56:13 +0000

Schools may close for the summer, but a child’s education never stops.
As classes and homework take a leave of absence, the void they leave behind will be filled with other pursuits, every one of which will be a learning experience in its own way.
What kind of education will your child have this summer?
I consider myself to have been a lucky child. My summers were spent playing outside, helping work on the farm when I was forced to, and reading.
We children were blessed with a patient mother who always had time to read to us, or, after we learned to read for ourselves, she was always there to answer a question or explain the meaning of a new word. She and my father read the paper every day, and talked about what was going on in the world, and I listened. I loved to read, and consider the endless time I spent with books to be one of the strongest foundations of my childhood education.
It wasn’t until later years that I realized how many other influences contributed to my education as well, beginning with where we lived. All around were fields and woods and springs, brimming over with life. There were flowers everywhere, some planted by my mother, others growing wild. There were lilacs so thick and plentiful that I could run through them as if in a small forest, taller than I stood, the scent of so many blossoms almost dizzying, especially right after a warm spring rain.
Of course, there was another facet of my education. It was called work, and it usually involved a hoe, which I wielded neither accurately nor well. The funny thing was, I not only learned to do it, but also to like it, and the sense of accomplishment it gave me.
As I look back at the things I learned, and how I learned them, I think I have found the key element in the successful education of a child. It’s the people who are willing to teach them, to make sure they learn from the life around them. In my case, those people happened to be my family.
Life has changed in many ways, but there are still plenty of moms, dads, grandparents or other relatives, and paid caregivers as well, who go the extra mile to see that a child’s need for learning is met.
There are working moms and dads who are never too tired to read another story, or to allow a child to help with a task, when it would be so much easier to do it themselves.
These are the people who realize that they are a child’s most important teacher, and that school is always in session.
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Persinger is community editor for The Tribune. She may be reached at (812) 523-7063 or jpersinger@ tribtown.com.

Anchor a memory

Joanne — Thu, 03 Apr 2008 17:58:21 +0000

A barn is like an anchor for those who make their living from a sea of rolling fields.
It is a place of shelter for livestock, and also a shield from the elements for the tools of the farmer’s trade.
Old barns, worn, even dilapidated, display character and draw forth a poignant wistfulness. Once, they were filled with the sounds of life on the land. Their lofts were stuffed with hay, and in the evenings, there was the comforting, contented sound of animals munching their supper before dozing off in the darkness.
The barns of rural Jackson County are fading into the past, as the face of farming changes and the landscape with it.
That’s a fact that hasn’t gone unnoticed by people interested in preserving memories of barns, past and present, by preserving the structures’ images.
“The barn has been the center of American rural life for centuries,” states a press release from the Jackson County Fair Antique Building Committee. “Barns stood for harvest and hard work. The barns are fading from the landscape, victims of their age, the expense of maintaining them and their lack of practical purpose.”
That’s why the committee will sponsor a photography contest this year with the theme of “Jackson County Barns,” says Karen Terrell, who is chair of the Antique Building, along with co-chair Carolyn Robison.
“The theme (for the Antique Building overall) is ‘Pride in our past, faith in our future,’” Terrell said, with the photography contest display serving as an added feature for the building.
The committee is urging people to preserve a favorite barn in a picture to share with visitors to the fair and to keep for future generations to see. Terrell said photos also could be submitted that had been taken in the past of barns now no longer standing.
Contest rules:
All entries must depict a barn located in Jackson County.
The entrant must include his or her name, address, phone number and location of the barn in the photo on a 4×5 card with each entry.
Prints must be no larger than 8×10, framed or on mount board. The winner will receive a prize, and the picture will be featured in the 2009 Fair Book.
Bring all entries to the Antique Building at the fairgrounds from 9 a.m. to noon July 18 or 19. All en-tries will be displayed in the Antique Building during fair week.
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Persinger is community editor for The Tribune. She may be reached at (812) 523-7063 or jpersinger@tribtown.com.

Dog’s in a class all his own

Joanne — Fri, 28 Mar 2008 02:48:03 +0000

Obedience training is going well. I think that before long, somebody’s going to be getting a little diploma …
We could have gone to a proper, professional facility, I suppose, but the dog and I decided to home school.
We developed our own little commands and signals, and they seem to be working out well.
If Brak wants to go outside, for instance, he will dance toward me, then back, tail wagging, head crooked to one side, three times. Fast dancing and tossing of the head up in the air means he wants to go outside right away.
Going outside can mean just going outside, back in 10 minutes, or it can mean a prolonged stay, if there is something that bears investigating.
If he approaches me and actually gets in reach, then stays there, it means he wants the place between his eyes rubbed.
The sound of rattling pans coming from the kitchen does not mean that he is doing the dishes. It means fill ‘em up, water or food or both. If I take too long to tend to his needs, he will come to the doorway and just stand there, looking at me, like, “Didn’t you hear the bell?”
Yes, he just about has me trained. He does his little bit of drama, and I just automatically get up and do his bidding.
I think I’m ready to graduate. I may get a diploma, but not with honors. I’ve made too many slipups for that.
Chief among them was the candy incident. Now, I know you’re not supposed to give dogs candy. But it was the holidays, and I was feeling mellow, and his ears pricked up when he heard the crinkle of a cellophane wrapper.
Brak nonchalantly strolled across the living room to the couch where I was sitting. After looking the proffered tidbit over, he took it daintily into his fangs and walked over to his “blankie” (an old coat he likes to sleep on).
He put the piece of candy down, and I expected him to lie down and enjoy the morsel of sweetness. Instead, he began pawing at the material, pulling it over the piece of candy.
“He’s burying it,” said my son, leaning forward.
Indeed Brak was, but then he stopped, pushed the cloth aside and picked up the candy again. He then sauntered over to me and put the candy right in front of my feet. Just spat it out. Ptooie! Right there in front of me.
By now my son was laughing uproariously.
“He gave it back!” he said. “I can’t believe he gave it back!”
OK, so now you know. Not only does the dog have me trained, but he’s also obviously smarter than I am. I wasn’t supposed to give him candy.
Actually, I may not get that diploma after all, or at least not yet.
I have a feeling he’s going to make me go to summer school to catch up.
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Persinger is community editor for The Tribune. She may be reached at (812) 523-7063 or jpersinger@ tribtown.com.

A street by any other name

Joanne — Wed, 12 Mar 2008 20:04:03 +0000

What’s in a name? Apparently, it all depends on where you want to put it.
Let me make it clear right from the start that I don’t have a dog in the fight over whether to name or rename anything after John Mellencamp.
I don’t know John. I didn’t even go to school in Seymour.
I have certainly enjoyed several of his songs and videos, but I could say the same thing about dozens of other performers, and I don’t know any of them either.
Anyway, I can’t really say I have an opinion on whether something should be named after John in honor of his induction this week into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, but I do have some observations.
One is that, if you’re going to name something after someone, it’s better to name than rename. Let them have something fresh and new, that’s all their own.
I came to that conclusion a long time ago, when the nation salved its grief over an assassinated president in part by giving new or existing structures the Kennedy name. I was just a kid then, and I certainly had no objections. I was grieving, too.
As the years went by, though, I looked back and rather wished Cape Canaveral hadn’t been changed to Cape Kennedy. Canaveral was a 400-year-old name, with its own history and its own place in the world. (Actually, in 1973, the name of the cape itself was restored, with the Kennedy Space Center retaining the Kennedy name.)
There was also Idlewild Airport, now JFK in New York. Idlewild supposedly is an Indian word, but I wasn’t able to verify that. At any rate, it was a name worth keeping, one that could stand on its own.
There was nothing political or disrespectful in my wishing that these two places had not been renamed. I just felt that some things deserved their own place, and their own name, in history.
If a street is renamed for John, I have one more observation: When I think of the times he sings about, I think of the days when kids “scooped the loop” and cruised along Chestnut Street, causing traffic jams and driving adults crazy.
Now they’re the adults, but just for a little while, they had the time of their lives.

A fine mess brewing in the Everglades

Joanne — Thu, 06 Mar 2008 18:29:08 +0000

“Snakes alive! Burmese pythons may be headed our way” was the headline on a story dated Feb. 22, 2008, on www.ajc.com.
The story, written by Mark Davis for The Atlanta Journal-Constitution, takes a look at the possibility that the burgeoning population of these pythons in the Florida Everglades could mean that eventually they’ll move into Georgia. So, for now, the “our way” in the headline is referring to Georgia, not Indiana. I don’t think these behemoths, which the story says can grow to be 16 feet long and weigh 160 pounds, would find Indiana’s climate to their liking. Good.
So how did these big snakes find their way into the Everglades?
It seems they are the reptilian equivalent of dumped dogs and abandoned cats that once were the prize pets of someone, somewhere. Then, well, they got too big, and outgrew their little snake houses in someone’s apartment in the city, and their owners, not wanting to have their pet put down, decided to to free Willy, so to speak. Trouble is, while Willy was getting his bearings, Sally was also being freed, and the rest is breeding history.
Several Web sites that I’ve visited have much the same tale to tell - the python population in the Everglades is booming, the snakes are growing to sizes that only an alligator has a fighting chance against, and hanging in the balance are the animals and birds that also call the Everglades home.
What to do? Open drop-off stations for unwanted reptiles? What then? And what about the fine mess already brewing in Florida?
I wonder if it’s possible to seine pythons.