Summer Vacation, Day 86: The Edge

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Blogger’s Note: I think I’m done now. No more weird poetry in the archive. I don’t know what inspired me to this “any moment you could snap” stuff, but there it is. Enjoy.

that edge is closer than you think
stand a minute, knowing well the world
is round, rain wets, life breathes,
love conquers all.
what proof have we? do we know
even ourselves? our own potential
to disappoint is manifest—are we not
of the world? why then persist?
rise tomorrow, should it come, and
convince yourself of absolutes,
relativity, the gravity that binds.
the sun will rise, the snow fall,
the market rebound, the phone ring—
and when these things do not,
jump

J. Thorp
22 Jan 2002

Summer Vacation, Day 85: Birds and Bees

/ J. Thorp / 3 Comments

On the way to the work this morning, I heard a lengthy news piece on the benefits of talking with kids about sexuality early and often. Jodi and I were leaders of our church’s high-school youth group in Michigan, and we heard firsthand where some our teens were getting their info – teen comedies and hip-hop, mostly. I wrote this in the midst of that, as I recall.

what kids need to know
it’s not like the movies,
first off—
it is never the best ever;
rarely slow, and almost never
graceful.
the lighting is rarely gold or even
blue, and it doesn’t set well to
music.

not everyone is doing
it — fewer than you’d think from
the sounds.
your folks, however, are — and that’s
good; you want that, even if you don’t care
to know.
maybe it’s just once a week, a month, but
God do they deserve it — don’t begrudge them that
one thing.

its beauty isn’t really meant for
pictures — like childbirth, the aesthetics are
lacking.
remember, on the playground, when they said how
it was done? that great and sinking feeling that somehow it
was true?
these miracles are less of water to wine, and more of raising
Lazarus, the crucifixion, a plague of frogs — glorious but not
pretty.

you know how easy it is but not
how hard, how complex it can be, even
in love.
the mechanics are a snap; anyone can do
it — houseflies are adept, and you’re no
insect —
but it complicates. it breeds life, from which
you cannot turn — not without killing something
like love.

J. Thorp
23 Jan 2002

Summer Vacation, Day 84: I Knew Someone

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… like this. She was a sad soul, but a good friend. I learned a lot. Maybe not enough, but quite a bit.

she smiles
she smiles sometimes.
her face breaks;
cheeks pucker, lips part.
she smiles —
crow’s feet clench.
she smiles, a gash,
a tight pink scar.
It cracks, bleeds,
and, at the pain,
she smiles she’ll never
smile again.

J. Thorp
09 Nov 2001

Summer Vacation, Day 83: Trevor’s Name

/ J. Thorp / 2 Comments

I had no topic in mind this evening, so I asked Trevor what I should blog about. He suggested I write about his name. So, here goes …

Our youngest is named Trevor Christian Thorp. Trevor was an Irish/Welsh name we both liked; in addition, it has good denotations: industrious and prudent. It apparently can also mean “great settlement.”

All of our kids have middle names of family significance – Brendan’s is “James,” after me; Gabriel’s is “Venjohn,” which is Jodi’s nearly unique maiden name; and Emma’s is “Rose,” after my dad’s beautiful mother who died when he was young. With Trevor, we struggled – the male family names to choose from were Kenneth, Daryl, Frank, Duane, Arnold and Firman. (I made a brief, half-serious, and ultimately unsuccessful bid for Bruno, which, along with Brownie, was my Polish great-grandfather’s nickname in America. His real name, Bronsilaw (BRO-nee-swaff), means “armor or weapon of glory; glorious protector” …) So we went with something that spoke to the values and faith of both our families – Christian.

And Thorp is, well, Thorp – meaning “small village or hamlet” in Middle English. Appropriate enough for small-town folk like us – and an interesting contrast to the alternative meaning of Trevor.

There you go, Trevvy! Brendan James, Gabriel Venjohn, Emma Rose and Trevor Christian – that’ll do, I guess …

Summer Vacation, Day 82: Closet

/ J. Thorp / 4 Comments

We bought this house on my recommendation. Jodi was still in Michigan when I put the offer on it, in part because we needed a place to live and I’d been here a month already, living in the the Residence Inn in downtown Minneapolis.

I’d looked at a number of homes, and this was easily my favorite – some of what I wanted, some of what she wanted, three bedrooms, 1-3/4 baths, etc. Jodi saw photos of the place, but never walked around in it until we’d already agreed to buy it. At that point, she walked into the downstairs bedroom, and said, “Huh. There’s no closet.”

Sure enough, there wasn’t. I’d noticed many, many other things, but not that. “Oh, well,” I said. “We can put one in when the kids are older and need it.”

“But without a closet, I don’t think it counts as a bedroom,” she said.

“So? We’ll still use it as one, won’t we?”

In her infinite patience, Jodi neither hit me nor called me a moron. She simply said, “We’re paying for a three-bedroom house, not a two-bedroom house.”

D’oh! To this day, I always warn young men against house-hunting without their brides, and if they must, I warn them to especially note the closets.

Today – five years later – I put shelves and rods up for the boys closet. So tired, but Jode is so happy! Good night, all.