Victor Hugo’s New Notre Dame

René Magritte ~ ‘Marche des Snobs’ sheet music cover (1924)

Prejudice can be difficult to witness or to experience. Its various forms — sexism, ageism, and racism, among others — can erode relationships and destroy communities. Prejudice helps to lay the foundation for religious intolerance and class envy. It colors discussions of politics, and often renders problematic the most well-intentioned attempts at conflict resolution. Even minor irritants like social snobbery and cliquish behavior evince prejudice. 

I suppose all of us are prejudiced in one way or another, but in a wonderful bit of irony, none of us wishes to appear so. It’s simply who we are. (more…)

Published in: on August 23, 2015 at 2:57 pm  Comments (90)  
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Swimming Upstream

Detail from “Woman Before a Fish Bowl” ~ Henri Matisse (1922)

Walgreens is an impulse shopper’s paradise.

Established in 1901, after Charles R. Walgreen purchased the Chicago drugstore he’d served as pharmacist, the chain grew slowly, but steadily. In 1926, a hundred stores existed. By 1984, there were a thousand.

Over the years, Walgreens moved beyond filling prescriptions: as a way to accommodate people who needed something to do while waiting for their prescriptions. Greeting cards appeared, along with hair brushes and shaving soap. Eventually, detergent, envelopes, candy, and socks were added to the inventory, and a newer, more modern version of the general store was born.

Even in these days of online ordering and drive-through pick-up, the stores have continued to thrive. People do run out of toothpaste, get sudden cravings for chocolate, or need single sheets of yellow and red construction paper at 9 p.m. on a Thursday night, and Walgreens fills those needs.
(more…)

Published in: on August 8, 2015 at 9:50 am  Comments (109)  
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Says Who?

Four months old, she was on the run, and desperate. Leaping from a seven-year-old’s casual grasp, she headed for the shrubbery, fueled by adrenaline and pursued by three equally adrenaline-addled boys. The spreading clump of holly, prickly and stiff, might have saved her, but she chose the ligustrum: a bush good for privacy, but no protection at all against determined hunters.

Cornered between cedar fence on one side and brick wall on the other, her only means of escape had been blocked by the boys. In a frenzy of excitment, the youngest plunged beneath the ligustrum. Managing to grab onto her tail, he pulled. Hard.

It was a mistake. (more…)

Opening the Door

Handy as your re-purposed refrigerator might be, heart-warming and comforting as that pastiche of schedules and memorabilia tacked to the fridge-front surely is, for most people, it’s what’s inside that counts.

Once upon a time, when women talked of “keeping a good house” and wore aprons as a matter of course, a pristine, fully-stocked, and well-organized refrigerator was de rigueur.

A friend who prides herself on being a throwback to those times — simpler, or simply aggravating, depending on your point of view — keeps a good house and maintains a refrigerator that could rival any surgical suite.  Pristine, organized within an inch of its shining, white life, it’s perfectly stocked with every staple, main dish ingredient, and culinary extra you could hope for. (more…)

As For the Front of the Fridge…


The Poem on the Fridge
Paul Hostovsky

The refrigerator is the highest honor
a poem can aspire to. The ultimate
publication. As close to food as words
can come. And this refrigerator poem
is honored to be here beneath its own
refrigerator magnet, which feels like a medal
pinned to its lapel. Stop here a moment
and listen to the poem humming to itself,
like a refrigerator itself, the song in its head
full of crisp, perishable notes that wither in air,
the words to the song lined up here like
a dispensary full of indispensable details:
a jar of corrugated green pickles, an array
of headless shrimp, fiery maraschino cherries,
a fruit salad, veggie platter, assortments of
cheeses and chilled French wines, a pink
bottle of amoxicillin: the poem is infectious.
It’s having a party. The music, the revelry,
is seeping through this white door.

Comments always are welcome.
For more information on poet Paul Hostovsky, please click HERE. 
For Allan Burns’s “Refrigerator Haiku,”  more illustrations by his wife Theresa, whose cover art is shown above, and information about the Haiku Foundation,  please click HERE.
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