Untitled Play-A Bare Beginning

Hi Everyone,

This is a three person play I began a few months back and thought I would post it.
I guess I'm looking for your reaction. Should I pursue it? Does it engage you? Is it too maudlin. I reckon I'm copying the Love Lettrs format. Three actors would stand at the podium or at least that's how I envision it now. Could metamorhis in any number of ways. Anyway some reactions would be appreciated.

Untitled Play by Gail Mangham

Characters:
Jen: Wife/Daugherinlaw
Ryan: Husband/Son
Lynn: Mother/Motherinlaw

Jen and Ryan write one another and Ryan and Lynn write one another.


The letters span September 1967 to November 1968


Act One



Son

Dear Momma,

On the plane. I can just make out the shoreline of my new home for the next 14 months. I hope this reaches you soon. It was so hard saying good-bye to you and the baby. I know men aren’t supposed to cry, but that’s all I really wanted to do. I’m glad you weren’t at the airport. And thank you for watching the rug rat for us. Saying good-bye to Jen was bad enough. We stood there watching a gunny, gunnery sergeant say good-bye to his wife. He was ramrod straight and I didn’t see a tear in his wife’s eye. They just looked at each other. But still I could feel the tension between them, stretched like a rubber band, ready to break. Finally he picked up his flight bag and turned and walked to the plane and never looked back.

Someone shouted to get our asses on board and suddenly the moment was there and I had to say my good-bye to Jen. She was so beautiful standing there, trying to be brave like the other woman, but tears trembled in her eyes, making the hazel turn emerald in the sunlight. God, I wanted to hold her forever. I know you understand all this because like so many women you had your turn too, saying good-byes to Dad when he was ordered to sea. Jeesh, does it ever end Momma? Does there ever come a time when we get it, when we stop saying good bye to go to war? How about a law that limits good-byes to leaving on vacations, going off to school, going out for pizza… Oops gotta run. We’re landing. Will send this off soonest since I don’t know when I can write again. Don’t even know where I’ll be. I keep telling myself this is my duty and the adventure of a life time. Tell Dad hello.

Love you,

Ryan Jr.

Jen

Hey there First Lieutenant Ryan Scott Jr.,

I love you. Gotta get that out there right at the beginning. And don’t you forget it. Ever!
That’s an order. We’re fine. Everyone’s fine here. Really. Maggie is cutting a tooth, so I have been rubbing her gums with a tiny bit of oil of clove. She sucks my thumb and seems to like the taste. She is so cute and I hate that you will miss seeing her grow for more than a year. But enough said about that. I promise to take lots of pictures and send them to you and make tapes of her chattering away in her own special language. I’m settled in a small apartment and it’s only a mile from the beach, which could be nice when it is not so blasted hot as it is now. I swear you could fry an egg out there today.
My classes are going well. My first year of teaching. I swear some of my students are only a year younger than me. Did you know you can stay in public school ‘til you turn twenty-one? So I have this one guy who is 20. Egad I’m barely 22. When I know him a bit better I think I’ll try to find out his story. The high school is huge, like a small college, with over 2200 students. I was walking down the hall yesterday and one the students shouted as he passed me, “Hiya Teach.” Of course later I thought of coming back with Hiya Pupe, but you know me always slow on the comebacks. Still it sort of made me feel like I belonged, a little bit anyway.

Ah Maggie just woke up…More later…

Love you,
Kitten

Mother

Dear Son,

I never thought to be writing like this again. I guess I believed that my last letter to your Father on his last tour at sea was it. I didn’t like writing those letters in a way, you know. I always felt I had to present the stiff upper lip image of the navy wife, fully competent and keeping the home fires burning. God knows he certainly didn’t need to hear me whining. But it often felt unreal, fake. So let’s make a deal—mother to son—let’s let our feelings out, let’s not hide behind platitudes, fears of upsetting one another. I want to know what life is like for you in this coming year. Your father never talked about his experiences, never seemed to want to and maybe you will feel that way too, but now at the beginning of this thing, just know I’m the one person you can dump on and bear it and if I can’t I’ll tell you. Deal???

So I will begin by saying, Ryan, you are unimaginably precious to me and I will live each day you are gone with both fear and pride. Last night I awoke with my heart pounding in my chest and suddenly the fleeting remnant of a dream surfaced, I had been holding you, feeling the curve of head against my breast, your body limp, heavy and warm from feeding, your mouth open in a little o of remembered pleasure. The touch of you was so real, I held my breath trying to make it last, but like all dreams it vanished. But it was a gift in the night my darling.

I love you,
Momma

Ryan

My darling Jen,

Where to begin. I miss you, oh how I do miss you. And wee Maggie. A new tooth?! By the time I get back she’ll have a mouthful and probably give me a bite instead of a kiss when I first see her. Ah well I’ll survive. Give her a big hug from Daddy.
This is a strange place Jen. So beautiful in so many ways, green, green and more green. Of course right now the heat is awful and the humidity is a killer. I’m drenched when I wake up. Well let’s face it I’m drenched when I go to sleep as well. Can’t seem to get enough water into me, but I’m sure that will change. All of us here are new and still not sure where I’ll be sent, guess wherever they need a greenhorn lieutenant, probably north. Everything here is warm—the water, the food, the beer—the air feels like walking through warm syrup. And people always seem to be either running in all directions or lying in a patch of shade waiting for the next breeze to wander through.

Remember that song Big Bad John, when we were in high school? I think Jimmy Dean sang it. Anyway there is this gunny here who fits the song to a T.
The song starts off…
Ev'ry mornin' at the mine you could see him arrive
He stood six foot six and weighed two forty five
Kinda broad at the shoulder and narrow at the hip
And everybody knew ya didn't give no lip to Big John.

Well that’s this guy. I even asked someone about him and his name is John. Unbelievable! When he walks through an area, people part like some huge cruiser is coming through. Not sure I would want him in my company, but on the other hand he might just be the bad ass that you would want around your troops. Mail call is coming up soon. So I best end this so it will go off. I love you and don’t worry about me. Other than being wet all the time, I’m just fine. And of course I miss you something awful and the munchkin too. Give her a big hug from Daddy. And if you see Momma tell her hi and share this with her if you wish…or not whatever you want. I’ll be trying to write as often as I can, but I’m sure when I start going out on patrol, the letters will not come as often, so be prepared and not to worry.

Wishing I were there in your arms,

Ryan, the Mess



Jen


Hi Sweetheart,

I’m at the beach. Sunday morning. I thought I’d come down early. Maggie is playing in the sand. The Gulf is mostly flat with puny waves rolling in, but that’s ok. I have the place to myself. I guess since it’s fall and kids are busy with school or sleeping late or going to church or whatever… well anyway it’s too cool to have it all to myself. As far as I can see in all directions the only thing alive are sea gulls. Their cries and the sound of the sea are it, all I can hear. No traffic noise, no ac’s humming. It almost feels like being on a deserted island. Wow what a luxury in this day and time.

Oops had to rescue Maggie. She decided sand would make a good snack and then changed her mind abruptly when she sampled it.

Last night I chaperoned a dance at the gym. The assistant principal, who is this oily type, put the moves on me. He started with “I understand your husband is overseas, must get lonely.” I wanted to shout that with my first year of teaching and an 18 month old, there was no time for loneliness and would he please just eff off. But I do get lonely sometime. It’s almost always at night, when I’m just lying there drifting off and suddenly I’m overwhelmed by this longing; it first washes through me like a huge wave and then it settles under my heart like a stone. It ‘s so palpable this feeling with a shape and weight that is material. I’m probably not making any sense and I don’t won’t you think I go around in a perpetual state of longing. It just creeps in a night and takes me unawares.

OK YOUR daughter has decided she wants to hit the surf. More later.

Big, Huge Hugs,

Me

Son

Dear Momma,

Sorry it’s been so long. I’ve been pretty busy. We’re at Con Thein right now. I guess Jen gave you my address. You wouldn’t believe this place. It rains constantly! Nobody can stay dry. All these stupid bunkers leak like sieves.

This country has beautiful forests complete with orchids and huge poinsettia trees. Only problem is the damned incoming. We pick up 40-50 rounds a day in our sector here; nobody hurt though. I’ve thought about your ‘deal’ and if you’re up for it, I will tell it like it is, or will be, except I don’t know what it will be, do I? And I don’t know if I will be able to handle what’s coming. I think about that. I guess I don’t want to let Dad down, or the guys under me, or myself. I’m not sure Basic School can really prepare you for this. In fact I know it can’t. The guys on the other side of the DMZ are out to kill you and that pretty much makes Basic School a walk in the park. You hear the rounds screaming in and you never know of course where they’re going to land. So you just keep checking your equipment, checking your men-- which I have to do right now. So I’ll close and I promise to write more later. Let me know how you are, ok? And tell Dad Hi, and give Jen my love and hug little bit for me.

Love,
Ryan Jr.



Mother

Dear Ryan,

This will be short, but I want to dash something off to you before I head for work. Jen called me yesterday, on your anniversary. Bless her heart. I could hear the tears in her voice. I remember your Dad was at sea, on our 10th anniversary. You were about six. And if I’m remembering this right I took you to ride the ponies. Do you remember that place outside of town with the small track? You just loved that, going round and round, never enough for you. And we were driving back we passed the lake and you saw a boat and yelled out, “Is that Daddy in the boat Momma?” I explained that he was on a big boat, a ship out on the ocean. And you said, “Let’s grow wings and fly to see him Momma.” I know you don’t remember that. I just lost it right then and there and had to pull over. And I grabbed you and hugged you—and held on for life. Finally you said I was hurting you, but that it was ok, and you patted my wet face and kept saying, it’s ok Momma, it’s ok. I started laughing at the notion of you comforting me and then you started giggling and we sat there me laughing hysterically and you wiping my cheeks dry and kissing me. I hope Jen finds as much comfort in Maggie as I found in you my darling Ryan.

Love,
Momma

Jen

Happy Anniversary Sweetie,

Three years. Wow! I’m sure you are celebrating in some elegant restaurant with lots of French delicacies and superb wines. Just make sure you’re toasting me across the miles and not some Asian beauty. I left Maggie at day care for a bit and went straight from school to the beach. I had the place to myself. I guess I was feeling sort of lonely and so I just sang my heart out to the ocean. I went through all the songs I’ve been singing since I was a little girl. I sang until the sun set and I was hoarse. No one to hear me except the sea gulls and the ocean to remind me how insignificant were the tears washing down my face. Then I opened a bottle of wine and poured it into a crystal glass and raised it to the west and shouted, “Here’s to us Ryan, Three going on a Life Time. Keep your Head Down Darling.” Does that sound silly? Yeah perhaps, but it all helped. I love you Ryan. So much. Sometimes I can’t seem to breathe when I think how much I love you. At night I imagine your arms around me and I can feel your skin on mine, feel the beat of your heart, trying to put mine in sync with yours. Sometimes it is so real, you know? So real.
Back to the real world. I have to give tests tomorrow and I’m not quite finished with preparing them. So…Be careful darling. If I could a put magic bubble around you to protect you, I would.

Love you,
Me

Ryan

Dear Jen,

I’m writing by candlelight so it may not be too steady. This place is a pain. We never see anybody, just take rounds from mortars and artillery at odd intervals during the day. So far I’ve no one killed. And only 2 hurt badly enough to take to the rear. I hope we can keep it that way. Whoops! My candle burned out. Oh well as long as my kerosene lamp holds out, I’m in good shape..
These men who work for me, boys really, most are 18-19, and unbelievable. They gripe a lot, but they also work like teamsters and joke about anything. They’re the world’s greatest scroungers. Don’t let anybody kid you about us having everything we need. Ha! Ammo and food, yes. Construction material, clothing, almost anything else you care to name—we’re short of it. McNamara’s Band! Sheessh!

No, my own one I don’t think it’s silly to toast me on the beach. The best I could manage was warm water from my canteen? No candlelit restaurants anywhere around, but I did send you my love and lewd thoughts across the miles. Remember the time in the car at the park?. I thought I’d have a heart attack when that cop shined his flashlight through the window. Oh well probably not the first lovers he’s come upon in a parked car.

Now the kerosene is beginning to go. I best close while I can see at all. I love you darling and promise that this anniversary and the next are the only two I will ever miss.

Me

Son


Dear Momma,

I’m in good shape, a little tired, but fine really. I hope we eventually go where we can take showers and sleep nights for a while. Hey Dad if you get a deer and make sausage, why don’t you send me some.. Any goodies to supplement the C-Rations are Greatly appreciated!

Grindstones and Porridge

However you want to putit, Dad's leaving has left me no choice but to go back to old colthes and porridge, put the nose tot he grindstone, knuckle down and get back to the real world. I have managed to stretch Christmas intot he January holiday and that into Dad's visit and now after almost two months of minimal effort I have nowhere to turn but the work at hand.

I am writing what will be the last of the module papers and then will put together my thesis proposal, both to be finished by June and then when I return from the summer, part of which will be spent in dear old exciting Leicester I will have to actually start in on the thesis, (that's what them limeys call a dissertation) thye do everything backwards. Nice to know I have the next 20 months planned out!!

I just sent in an article to the International Jouranl of Educational Administration and am about to send one to the Learning Organization Journal. The first one has made it past the first post and been sent to three referees in different countries. The second one could have more problems- I just noticed that theri last issue was devoted entirely to what I am writing about so they may have had enough of that for a while. We'll see. Keep your fingers crossed, I'll know and about six-eight weeks if things have been accepted for publication. These things apparently take time.

Dad's visit was fun, we hung out here quite a bit and went around town doing various things. Poker in Al Ain was great - but Dad's right. Ralph very quietly sat and played his beginner game and walked away with a fair whack of the bank. Ahhhhh. I beleive him when he says he never played but he still knew exactly what he was doing.

So now it's work, walking while the weather is good and YOGA!! the new power - soon I will twist into any shape desired and roll effortlessly down the street like a wheel of fire. I am learning to levitate and slow my heartrate so I can see the people in the near dimensions. It's good. At the moment I am trying to learn Ashtanga and get the breathign right and then maybe move on to some new stuff. We'll see how it all goes.
I love you all and now that I have skype will try to use it talk to you. It already worked with Mom and Andrew, we'll see what we can do.

Bye

Far From the Madding Crowds

greetings all. having been back in Kabul for a few days I am greeted by a gathering of 15,000 former mujahadin downtown demonstrating in favor of amnesty for their sins -- now why does that not surprise me! -- so I am locked inside my little house. Thought I'd used some of the enforced leisure to say howdy. And to remind everyone to send the Matriarch best wishes for her benefit performance this week! break a leg.

The photos above indicate how I spent much of last week. Lounging around Abu Dhabi and hanging out at Vasco's with Kate and Chris. Lovely time, except for a part of it I could enjoy the yummies due to dental tortures. On the other hand, I now have an excuse to get back soon for a long weekend and have some more drilling, prying, yanking, and hammering done. Chris has been good enough to promise to lay in some soup and yoghurt.

I did manage to get out to Al Ain for a poker game with the remnants of my old crowd, and had a great time. Ralph came and played, proving to be one of those "is it good when they're all the same color and in sequence" players! Watch it, Andrew. Stopped by the house and was disappointed to see that my very large Neem tree is gone, but not the bougainvilla -- exactly the effect that i was going for (although I would trim them a bit). Sunlight filtering into the living room through the red petals. Very nice indeed. Went to the Starbuck's and a couple of other places as well, where of course I was met by a chorus of "where's Ms Gail?" from all and sundry. Katie says they're down to asking once a week or so at the one in Abu Dhabi mall!

back in harness and will write all of you later. Meanwhile, everyone write Andrew and remind him to WEAR HIS SAFETY MASK!

SPECTROSCOPISTAS!!!!!!

Data! Data! I've got DATA!


If you wander around the parts of this ( the chemistry ) building that are devoted to organic chemistry you get to see some strange and wonderful things. Every room is packed with gleaming walls covered in labyrinths of round-bottomed glass flasks and tubing. At first you think "Oh how pretty. How cool! How SCIENTIFIC." Then you see the disheveled and slightly demented graduate students spend 4 years putting in 25 brightly colored ingredients and pulling out (with huge grins stapled to their pale, awful skulls) a white powder. I swear to god, that's all those wierdos make: white powder. I don't understand it, I walk by rooms with round-bottomed flasks the size of beach balls full of spinning purple liquids and all they ever get is white powder. Whatever. The point here actually concerns the aforementioned purple beachball.


That stuff is deadly. That stuff is explosive. That stuff is flammable. That stuff is tended by sleep-deprived social retards. After realizing all that, you look around and think to yourself "Oh... how...oh... my god." And then you start to understand why all those firemen break into a sweat and move down the bar away from you when they hear you're a chemist. Pansies.


At any rate, we don't have any of that crap here in the Hamers group. We DO have a few million dollars of topflight surface analytical equipment that look like props for Brazil. Some of which are homebuilt! Which basically means that a Hamers group member is far more likely to be able to fix your VCR than one of the organic chemists. However, VCR repair skills don't really get you any props in this hood so we're sort of mocked as chemical dilletantes. " You guys look at chemicals, you don't use them" that kind of thing. (I, by the way, am exempt from this the second they look into my terrifying, stained, inorganic synthesis hood...the stains glow under a black light...it's freakin' awesome...and they're poisonous) So we here in the Hamers group try to look for opportunities to show the danger in our lives wherever we can. One fine example is shown above.

This machine on of our Infrared Spectrometers. The basic idea here is that you fire infrared light through a sample and the chemicals in that sample absorb the light at specific wavelengths. So if you scan over a large spectrum, you can measure the amount of light that gets absorbed at various wavelengths and get a chemical fingerprint. It's fast. It's useful. It's sensitive. But there's a problem. Since you're basically looking at how these things react with heat, you need to cool down the detector. In comes the liquid nitrogen. You have to pour, literally pour, liquid nitrogen into this machine from a big fancy thermos called a Dewar. This is fine really, but when the machine fills up, it unexpectedly fountains. This is what's happening here. That's not water. It's Nitrogen at -321 degrees fahrenheit. Which is really, really cold. If this stuff hits your skin it usually rolls off. If it hits your eye, say while it geysers out of the machine as you're leaning over to pour the stuff in from your thermos, then your eyeball freezes and you start steeling yourself for pirate jokes. Luckily, we have protective wear and the machine gives off a telltale noise before spewing liquid blindness everywhere. But still, it's pretty hardcore. Right? And we can fix your VCR.

Anyway, I love this machine. While jogging I had an epiphany moment that led me to a series of experiments based on using this machine. I was coming back from cooling down the machine when I spoke to you Dad and Chris. When I went back I did some badass experiments and produced this graph. If you look in the handy yellow(?) rectangle, you see a series of peaks. The second from the top has a little peak next to the big one. The top graph is the same sample after some heating and the little peak has disappeared. This may not mean much but they're PEAKS. Chemists love Peaks like Satan loves Sinners. We see peaks and entire reams of meaning form in our heads. In this case, the peaks are telling me that I can't get my system to do what I want it to because the chemicals I have stuck to my nanocrystals are flying off when they're heating. WHICH EXPLAINS EVERYTHING!!!!!!! And leads me to some really groovy experiments to design a new ligand. One that I can't buy. One that I'll have to make. Let's hear those organic chemists laughing now.
Anyway, the boss is psyched and says this is the nucleus of a paper (music to my paper deprived ears) and that gives me hope that I may one day be an accredited scientist.
So that's my world. How are you guys doing?

No Exploristas- o, tho I scoured

Hey everybody. Sorry I haven’t been online, we just lasy night got back from a week on Thailand. Gotta get that mid year break before the bleak slide into the hot long spring semester. Weather here and there is unbelievable. I guess global warming is going to give us some nice things before it kills us all. Right On!! Ok, that wasn’t quite as cheerful as I intended this email to be. I just spent a week on Koh Samui, one of the islands in the south. Never been south of Bangkok before and now I am kicking myself. Jungle Heaven if you get up away from the backpacking, full moon party thugs. Andrew at least is well aware of my feelings towards youth hostel rats, bless their cheesy little trust fund souls. Anyway, spent eight days at a retreat up the mountain in the jungle fasting, doing yoga, scrambling around the woods and taking some really foul tasting supplements. I feel amazing and maybe even have that clear eyed fanatical look one gets when all the toxins have been shifted.

We spent the last day and a half in Bangkok to get a giant city fix and then get home hours before I had to be back at work. Judging from the silliness of my first two hors here a work it was a VERY good idea to get away for a moment. I have discovered a real liking for Yoga. The woman who taught it at this retreat was very good and really got me excited about it, and surprise surprise- I’m pretty good at it. So far I have only done videos or books and a couple of isolated classes at the gym. But with a good teacher I learned more in a week than in the last year in total. Soon I will put my legs behind my head and float through the air, can’t wait. If I can sort out balance and strength issues now then when I fall at eighty five I will land catlike and spry instead of breaking my hips. Always thinkin’ ahead, that’s me.
Andrew, I scoured the Jungle for the Exploristas, but except for a couple of monkeys and clearing where junkies had hung out I found nothing. They are wily those Exploritas and hid themselves well. I even spent some time moving in the canopy saling from tree to tree on my extended wing flaps making chi chi noises so I would blend in but I never foind them. Perhaps Irian Jaya…..

Well folks, that’s it for now. Tucking back into work, edd work and looking forward to seeing Dad next week. I hope you are all well and I’ll post something more soon.

Chris

Photos! More Photos

You know one of the nice things about this blog (for which all high marks to Matt)? The pictures! There is, of course, no such thing as too many Ema photos, but all of them are welcome. One cannot, when languishing in the the hinterlands, have too many photos of one's family and these are mightily welcome. Now if Chris and kate would post a few. Chris at the stove merrily cooking yummy dinners, the two of you strolling along the corniche. whatever.
The facility to right-click, save picture as is a wonderful invention! Ema and her bowling prize has now joined my screen savers which cause people to gasp and mutter "ooooooh how cute!" even while I am preparing to chastise them for infringements of my admittedly arbitrary rules of behavior.

The Natural Habitats of Brittus Canadensis. Part un.

I see that Matt is kicking our collective virtual butts so I thought I'd better post something. As I have mentioned before, I sometimes find it fruitful to think of my wife as some sort of wild beast and, in fact, she shares many traits with wild beasts. Along with excessive consumption of nearly raw red meat, one trait in she shares is a natural inclination to loiter about in certain locales conducting whatever business she gets up to. I thought I would try to capture images of her in her natural habitat and discuss them so that Chris, Keiko and Katie, who have never had a chance to spend much time with her, can get a better image. So.
1) The Den.* You may have to peer closely at this picture but if you focus your efforts you'll be rewarded by a rare glimpse of Britt sleeping in her den. This is Britt's favorite habitat. Here she recharges for day of prowling, wanton slaughter and blatant use of French. Though the scene may look peaceful and calm, you are almost certainly in mortal peril if you are actually in this room. Much like Ursus Horribilis Britt can be vicious and foul-tempered if woken suddenly. Even under the best of circumstances, the morning temper that best describe Britt is "sullen and in dire need of silence and coffee". Not unlike Dad, really. Once actually asleep however, and if treated with care, Britt can be a surprisingly warm creature. She instinctively moves toward warmth, however plump and hairy it may be, and will engage what I like to call "The Anaconda" approach to sharing the bed. This will last until a requisite degree of bed warmth has been attained whereupon she will cast off the source of warmth, leap high into the air and rotate on her axis, coming down face first to spend the rest of her sleep in a face down position commonly found in day care centers.
2) The Couch.** This is perhaps Britt's second favorite place to habitate. Here engage in most of her end of the day activities. These can range from watching movies, to reading, to gazing adoringly at her dashingly handsome and multitalented husband as he prepares food on a level normally only found in the palaces of the oldest royal families. Here we see her reading some books in preparation for class. Note the distracted gnawing at the writing implement. Even when relaxed and fully awake, B. Canadensis radiates an air of casual violence. One shudders at the fate she has in store for her "students". Note the fluffy pig under her book. This is actually a hot water bottle that Britt clings to as if were a life raft. Courtesy of Matt and Keiko.
Of the other two habitats, one should be fairly easy to enter and photograph. This is the office, where B. Canadensis engages in much of her professional activity. The other, The Salon, is far more difficult to gain entry to. Capturing an image of Britt while in the Salon proper can invoke consequences even more dire than those of the Den images. I'll do my best.

* Special thanks goes out to the photographer. Literally seconds after the shutter sounded, B. Canadensis sprang from the covers, mauled the unfortunate boy and then dove back into the safety of the bed and began loudly demanding coffee. The intrepid photographer is in the critical conditions at St. Mary's. Considering the way things turned out, I wish he'd gone ahead and thrown caution to the wind and use the flash.
** This photographer survived. However it was implied that perhaps he was having a bit too much fun with the digital camera and would soon have it taken away.

Kindergarten Festival Day

Today was the school festival at Ema's kindergarten. Here are some photos.

We arrived a little after the gates opened, and Ema struck a few boxing poses for the camera in fromt of the school clock.

Ema took me to her classroom, decorated with paper cakes, candies, a house made of snack containers, and of course lots of crafts and pictures all over the place.

Including this one by Ema. She told me the disembodied head beaming down from over the princess's shoulder is me. Lately she's moved on a little from the fairie princess drawings, at least at home, so this one may be from a while ago.

Wandering around with Mommy.

Keiko had to go work one of the booths, so Ema and I stopped for juice and a tiny cup of coffee. The coffee was a total gip, hardly even a mouthful, and I was totally surrounded by three to six year olds who couldn't even finish their huge juice boxes. That really chapped.

Then upstairs, and into the Bouncy Castle. They wouldn't let me in. They'll pay. They'll pay.

See how much fun I would have been having? Oh, I'll have my fun, though. Just waiting for the perfect moment.

Next a bit of bowling. Ema made the spare, and...

got this cool medal and a piece of candy. But I didn't get a damned thing, for which someone will be heartily sorry, oh yes they will.

Another game I was not allowed to play. There were prizes. I didn't get one. Ema did, so I stole it from her. It's a little teddy bear. I named him Irving. It's a cool name, even though it's an anagram for virgin, which is kind of stupid.

A quick stop for cotton candy. Guess who didn't get any. Yep.

Looks good, doesn't it? But then, how the hell would I know? The halls will echo...

Then into the craft room to make this really cool origami shuriken, a folded paper ninja weapon that I was not actually invited to make myself, though I stood right there next to Ema with hope brimming on my face.

Then it was time for everyone but the Fat Man to make these awesome helicopter boomerangs out of paper cups and little cutout stars and stuff. I started to make one, but that chick in the blue striped shirt shot me one hell of a look. Whatever. Just biding my time.

And finally, we swung into this crazy room where all these craft objects were on display. There were tons of them, but do you think it's cool to just pick one you like and walk out with it? I'll tell you frankly, it's apparently not cool.

Anyway, that was the kindergarten festival. Lots of fun for some. Ema had a blast. Other people (and I won't name names) were just there to be nasty to the older, hairier kids. But you know, life has a funny way of coming full circle on you, like a wounded water buffalo with a list of parental addresses and phone numbers. See me coming? Don't think so, suckers.

Driving Miss Gail

Hello Guys and Gals,

Today I decided to escape the wee rut I’ve been in and so did a quick workout to Bonnie Tyler and got into Big Red and headed South. I was headed for Wickenburg, but forgot how far it is and after 40 miles decided to turn around at Yarnell after procuring some bad coffee and strange sweet from a bakery and take out barbecue for a stop along the road somewhere. I listened to Sirius Love in the car and as the mountains unfolded into rolling high mountain valleys I slowly relaxed. That’s what road trips do for me. I remember Matt coming to Prescott one time and asking if he could have the car for a solitary drive. And I so understood that. An open ribbon of high way, mountains, clouds, cows, horses, donkeys, hawks –I love it. I even discovered the name of a bird I’ve been seeing around of late by talking with the owners of a little gift shop in Yarnell—Western Meadowlark. Cool looking birds with a black v over bright yellow breasts.

As you can see the winter trees have a rather stark lonely look. Most of them are cottonwoods and they are magnificent in summer. Most of these pictures are out in Skull Valley which supposedly got its name from a massacre of the Yavapai tribe by a tribe down in the Phoenix area that followed the Yavapai from the Phoenix area all the way back to Skull Valley after the Yavapai had betrayed their good will. Egad what an awful sentence.

Just as I was about 4 miles outside the city limits of Prescott a javalina bolted out in front of me. Fortunately he was booking and I was dawdling and with quick braking he managed to survive another day. Unfortunately a pal of his I saw at the side of the road a few hundred yards further along did not.

It was a pleasant outing –a great big huge circle of 90 miles circumference with a tail out to one side. Ahhh a Q. Yep that’s exactly what it was.

Awaiting shapewear for my next installment.

Love you all,

Matriarch

Drizzling

Well, I thought I was going to get Andrew out here for spring break, but his time here would overlap with workdays for me, and he can stay longer if he comes in the summer, so summer it is. It'll be hot, but that's what beer and surprise buckets of ice water coming out of nowhere are for.

It's become the weirdest part of the working year. The tenth graders I teach have left for Australia, and the twelfth graders completely done with classes. The rest of the girls have, in their minds, already finished the year, so the fact that there are still several weeks of classes is just incredibly unfair.

Not a lot going on at the moment. I love karaoke, and believe that if the leaders of the world would team up for a rendition of 'Wichita Lineman' we'd all be a lot safer. But that won't happen, and I blame the Sikhs.

We went to Iwakuni today, with an old friend of Keiko's, and to the restaurant Sanzoku. I think you've all been, even mom and dad, so I won't spend a lot of time yammering about it. It was drizzling a bit when we got to Sanzoku, so we sat inside to eat. I'll put up some pictures from today. Anyone wanting me to add photos of the mysterious white snakes of the Nishiki River Valley, just ask.

Anybody Else Out There Smell Cheese?

I just love writing that. Chris, sorry to hear about your internet fun being curtailed. Dad, sorry to hear about the snow, I guess, but I love snow so I don't feel that sorry. Go make a snow angel.

Mom, my voice may not be on that site much longer. That was a really impromptu off the cuff thing, and it's getting a bit more focused now. I think it's going in all the wrong directions, but I've said as much several times now and the young guy who has hijacked the project doesn't seem to be listening, so I'm thinking now I'll just play the good freelancer and take my paychecks until the whole thing goes belly up. Naw, I'll push it once or twice more, I guess.

Not a whole lot going on here. Was amazed by the Power Yoga revelations, and the photo of Andrew on his very own Journey to Power. When I was in the UAE, Chris didn't share that book with me, or tell me anything that was going to 'change my life.' But looking back now I recall that, although Chris was still swaybacked and splayfooted, arranging his tummy fussily on his knees when he sat down to breathe heavily with that strange fluting sound he makes, that there was something, I don't know, different about him. I said as much to Keiko, and she agreed. The conversation went something like this:

Me: Keiko, have you noticed anything, well, different about Chrissums?

Keiko: You mean his Aura of Power?

Me: Well, I hadn't thought of it in precisely that way, but yes, I think that is what I mean.

Keiko: Yes, he is very round, and his thighs protest audibly when he walks, but...

Me: But despite that, there's something almost...

Keiko: Oceanic?

Matt: Mmmm, not graceful, but almost gracelike.

Keiko: Yes, I have seen it too. He is heavy in a light way.

Matt: It's as if he'd been on some sort of unfathomable Journey.

Keiko: Isn't everyone?

Matt: Well, yes, but not everyone is on A Journey To Power!

Keiko: Wow, when you spoke those words the air around you shimmered through the manifold hues of the double rainbow of Mahasthamaprapta.

Matt: Hold me. I'm frightened.

Keiko: Whatever.

Anyway, it was something like that. I think. Maybe not. Mmmm, shawarmas.

Somebody needs to come to Japan. Who will it be?

GENDER DIFFERENTIATED CHORES

Several people have asked me about sort of daily life in this place. Most of mine is spent dealing with government forms, inane faculty ego trips, and assorted other fun things. But of course that's not true of everyone. There are people here with regular lives, and with household chores.

One of the things that strikes me in fact is how much like the sort of normal stuff I remember as a kid goes on. Now I am not saying I had to fetch water from a village well like these little girls are doing or herd the animals to market like the boy below -- although I did walk 8 miles to school through raging hurricanes, uphill. Carrying my canoe for the trip home. in 100 degree heat. but that's another posting -- but if I had, then the differentiation of chores would probably have been very much the same as these kids have.

The younger male persons reading these postings were not raised this way, of course. For a great many reasons having to do with the wisdom and thoughtfulness of their parents, chores were distributed on a gender-neutral basis. Wood was chopped and large parcels hauled, to be sure, but floors were swept (well, occasionally) and meals cooked as well. I wonder if the daughters-in-law in the audience are fully appreciative of the effort and constant criticism form neighbors, family, and friends we endured in preparing these paragons among husbandry for their present places in the scheme of things?

We expect no reward! We demand no special services! But the occasional letter or email? Would it kill you to say hello every once in a while? Oh sorry, yet another post. No! No Rewards! But you do realize your old folks are piling up anniversaries at an astonishing rate, right? And that we are approaching one in a very few years that has lots of numbers in it, right? If someone(s) thought of doing something exceedingly special in recognition of that fact it would, I think, not be remiss.

Meanwhile we shall hum merrily along, waiting for more pictures of the brood to materialize. I do note with interest that Andrew has appeared a number of times, Matt once, and even Keiko once (after some badgering on my part, of course) but that we have no photos of Britt or Katie as yet. For shame!

National Geographic Goes to India!!!

Not long before I left the UAE I was visiting Chris in his apartment and he showed me a book that he claimed was going to "change my life". On the cover was a man doing a far better job at this pose, the "crow" pose than I am in this picture. The book was by a man with the unlikely name of Baron Baptiste and was named Journey into Power!!
I smiled and nodded and spent an agreeable afternoon imagining Chris contemplating his navel and didn't really think about the book for a long time.
Then, recently I began my Health Odyssey. I've been running and lifting for a few weeks now and it's been feeling great but I knew something was missing. According to finest physiological minds that Google has to offer, the third leg in any truly complete health Triad should include some stretching. I figured I'd look into power yoga which does plenty of stretching and adds some strength training along with it, and that's when I remembered Chris' book, which we happen to have in one of our enormous, temple-like libraries. I've been getting into it bit by bit for the last week and it really is actually nice. The stretching feels great and I actually feel like I'm getting a real workout, especially when I go through the whole 90 minute routine.
There is one problem however. Look carefully at the picture above and then mentally remove the subject and place him in a standard Big Ten college gymnasium ( now called health centers or RecFacs by the cool, irritatingly healthy kids). These gymnasiums admittedly have a broad array of people but the population is definately weighted toward hip hot 18-22 year olds who need every opportunity they can get to cling to the last shreds of innocence that they have. Even if you added a shirt to the above picture to help that process along, the mental and emotional scarring that would ensue dictates that I do my workout in the computer room, usually with the blinds down. I just thought that since the relatively suave picture of me lounging 007 style by the GC drew some pot shots, I'd really give my brothers something to enjoy. Until next time, Namaste.
A N Mangham Arch Yoga-ista

Duet for Two

Hello Me Darlings.

First I admit right out off that writing this is just an act of procrastination pure and simple. I have to write the script for a 2 hour how with all lighting cues, crew movement, plus organize the reception prior to show, the dance following the show, the concessions, the ticket sales, the ad sales, the program design, the ushers, writing articles for various publications, appear on 3 radio and 1 tv show, learn my lines, find $1500 more to cover expenses, call all artists and determine what they need, tell them how long they can perform and organize the rehearsal schedule.
I’m particularly sensitive to all this because last night I saw Jill Eikenberry and Michael Tucker of LA Law fame do their two person show and how challenging that was and they had a professional sound and lighting person there, but they still had to deal with the our ageing systems and this was just two actors and two musicians on stage.

By the way they had put together a show called Life is a Duet for Two that was really quite lovely. While I was ushering in the lobby a couple who had driven about 75 miles from a little town in Strawberry AZ walked up to me with a bottle of wine and card for Jill and Michael. It seems that in the pas year the two actors bought a place in Umbria Italy and these two people who also own a place nearby met them and became friends.

Their show began with a well know show tune sung in Italian and the making of a large subway that M. shared with some audience members.

It was a lovely evening all in all though fraught with tensions of the producer because only about 200 seats sold and discovered in the space of 48 hours all the problems of presenting at The Elks Opera House and wants a conference call with me and fellow board member Elisabeth. I tried to suggest that he would want a city of Prescott employee in on the conference call as our mandate was clearly defined a limited to fundraising for restoration and nothing else. He was not deterred assuming I think that E. and I have influence—an assumption I fear is woefully unwarranted—at least in my case.

Well luvs it is 8 degrees F. this am and I am going to get on with more procrastination through the form of domestic chores and working out and THEN I shall tackle the real work at hand.

PS just discovered while getting this pic of the two actors that Jill and I are the same age.

I love you all,
The Matriarch

Testing

Hello Everyone,

Il Papa spent what I know was a frustrating time trying to help the Matriarch figure out why she could not post pictures. It seems it can't be done through Netscape, so I am trying it on Explorer.

If a picture shows up below then I guess I've figured it out. I love you all. Well I see I still don't quite have it correct. But will try again another time. I love you all. Matriarch

Fourth Birthday!

Well, yesterday Ema became a four year old, which is a relief. She's big for a Japanese kid, and it was getting to be a real effort for people to keep the shock from registering on their faces when she said she was three. Maybe four will be a little more plausible, at least for the next few months till she's able to look some of the local old ladies straight in the eyes.

Mom, the phonics material looks great, and it all works on our equipment. I'll have her reading by her fifth birthday, and writing perfect pantoums and sestinas by her sixth.

She finally started feeling a little better about her birthday, and she asked one of Keiko's friends to come over. Sort of an aunt figure, I guess. She told Keiko she didn't want to grow up because shaving your legs looks like it hurts. I agree.

Bad news is that we just killed her hamster, Apple. The room got too cold, I think. I've told Ema that Apple is taking a long nap, and one of us will try to slip out and get an identical rodent before the 'long nap' scenario starts to strain even four year old credulity.

Suddenly busy again. Holidays are over. Of course, half the students I teach will disappear for either college or Australia in about two weeks. I'm putting up a few pictures.

Is it just me, or does this blog seem to have taken on a heavily food-oriented bias? Not to be outdone I include herewith a picture of the sideboard for "Christmas in Kabul" in preparation. There were of course several other dishes and a number of other things on the table -- tinned cranberry sauce, quince jelly, and so on. And none of it, needless to say, contained Spelt, Flax Seed, or other foodsubsitute items. And you guys always wondered why I secreted away ginger snaps and fig bars! I hesitate to wonder aloud why, exactly, the fixation in food. None of us appears to be terribly underfed!

Ah well. I am able to post this morning because of one of the phenomena of life in Afghanistan. The office is powered by a generator (actually there are three -- a primary, a back-up, and a teeny one to keep the computer room running at night). Everything was good. Until it got cold. And by cold, what I mean is that it has not reached 0 degrees (celsius) day or night in a couple of weeks. Of course one of the things that happened was that electrical heaters sprouted like mushrooms in the offices of the HEP. So far, okay, except..... Apparantly when the generators were sized and installed, the load calculations were based on June's weather conditions! So I am at the residence this morning while the generator folk come in to split circuits, move things around, and so on in hopes of dealing with small problems like dim lights, straining computers, and so on. One of the things I will quite enjoy on leaving here is the prospect of flipping a switch and having the glow of lights instantly at hand, without crossing my fingers and holding my breath every time! The other is working toilets, but let's not go there.

Matthew, I would like to take this opportunity to thank you for having this idea. Food fixations aside, this is very nice. More photos of Ema please, and in the next batch kneel down and shoot upwards so we get the REST of Keiko in the picture!

Matriarch Debut

Well Il Papa (I do like that.) and Offspring, the bar has been set high and I did not expect less from all of you.

First let me say I want to eat at Andrew's house. Waking up to baguettes and brie sounds like heaven to me especially if accompanied by fab coffee. But alas I will stick to my rather strange but tasty and healthy bisocotti composed of spelt, flax meal, egg whites, choppied prunes and candied ginger, ground almonds, ground dark chocolate powder, orange juice and mooshed together and baked slowly, then cut into slices and baked again. Goes great with the morning coffee.

And on another culinary note I made a killer roast today. Peppered and garliced the meat, drenched in spelt flour, heated olive oil til hot, quickly seared the meat. Added a bit of water to iron pot and 1/2 cup of balsamic vinegar, covered and cooked 2 1/2 hours in a 325 or so oven. Really delish.

I'm mostly spending my days running around begging for money in some form or another--cash from a real estate companies, banks, overnight stays at the Grand Canyon, biscotti from Costco, books from Barnes and Noble, ads, ads and more ads. I've raised about $4000 but need about two more. Got a haircut today and asked them to buy an ad and they agreed. I've begun to have no shame and No Fear.

Missing Picture

The other day I was driving back home down Prescott Lakes Parkway which at one point gives a view all the way to the San Francisco peaks and when I trundled over the hill I gasped at the scene before me. The mountains and hills and valleys were quite literally pink, pink with shadings of mauve to deep purple. It was so stunning I found I was holding my breath and wanted the car to hold as well so that I could drink it in, but alas people behind me would probably have not liked my stopping dead in the middle of the road to gape slack jawed at the wonders of an Arizona sunset. It's nice to be reminded in such a lovely way why I wanted to return to this part of the world.

The attached pic is not the sunset in question but one the Harpers and I chased up a hill to capture at Thanksgiving.

Missing Picture (Helllpppp!!!)
And the other picture is of course Number Three son bravely leaning against a bar with the majesty of the Grand Canyon behind him. What fun we had and to think I got to see all my sons in the space of just a few months. What a gift!!



And thus ends my first posting. Now if I can only publish it.

Well no luck with inserting photos. I'm really bummed.

I love you all,

Kitten, Mom, Nana, Gail
The Matriarch

How I Trick Britt Into Eating Vegetables

Not that many of you guys have had the chance to spend a lot of time around Britt, so you may not be aware that she is one of the most dangerous carnivores on earth. Entire herds of Alberta Cattle will faint dead away if they hear her name. Since this is the case, and since I am largely the one responsible for cooking in this particular slice of the family, it is incumbent on me to make sure the woman gets a reasonable amount of healthy carbohydrates and fiber. So admire the picture to above. Stuffed Peppers. If you look carefully at the artfully uncovered pepper in the lower left corner it looks like the pepper is almost entirely stuffed with meat.
Not So!
The predominant components of this meal are spinach, brown rice, green peas, zucchini and natures most precious herb: parsley. And yet she will tuck in thinking that she's gleefully destroying another Cow Family. Especially when it's smothered in delicious (Non-Fat!) yogurt sauce.

MUUUUWAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!


At some point here I will have to post something other than a note about Britt's eating habits or she will *kill* me. Maybe next time I'll write about the scheme I'm developing to grow a bone-like amorphous material over steel implants so that they will be more readily accepted by the human body. And so we can make super soldiers. And tanks covered in bone. Wouldn't that freak you out?

boring old real name and all

I'm with dad, I'll have to find some flashy new name to work with this. I have no exciting or giggly things to say this morning. I just wanted to try this out. It's a very cool idea Matt, thanks. SOmetimes I feel pretty far away. Some notes:

Christmas was fun, thanks for all the goodies. The punching bag and ampanman ball are faves, and Kate uses here duck bag every day-it's the perfect size and shape for her work book bag. She really needed one.
Jack Black is my hero. I have seen more of this tenacious D stuff around, there must be a movie coming out. he is AWESOME and deserves our ADORATION. There are still scenes from school of rock where a facial expression or sentence has me rolling.
Speaking of rolling, I just say Borat. I don't know if any of you has seen this yet but-DAMN!!! It is the single most offensive and hilriaous thing I have ever seen. I have seen this guy before because of his British 'Ali G' show - also really funny and Borat started there as a side skit. I honestly couldn't believe soem of the stuf he was filming, and it's not easy to shock me with movie stuff. Recommend it- but you might hate it.

Well I am off to work now. More on that Fiasc-itic Comedy Adventure Later. Now it's up to Mom to post and we'll mostly be there. Is K-bone going to tell us a story?

BlogNameContest

Okay, clearly I have to get a better name for this thing. Da Matriarch? Arch-Chemist? K-Bone? sheesh. So for the least offensive to me and coolest sounding suggestion, I offer .... what? Remission of interest on all past loans from the first bank of dad? Not to worry-you think of the name I'll think of a prize.

Meanwhile let me just say that the remnants of Brie and Baquette look pretty tasty to me, as do the battered pork chops! Pork! YUM. And the cook is the best looking thing I've seen lately, I must say. Hiya Ema Girl.

More later, just thought I'd add in a photo of my favorite college chemistry storeroom. Located in scenic downtown Kandahar this fine facility includes several aging bottles of powdered materials labelled on Cyrillic along with the bottles of acid shown arranged along the back of the table. Note the use of paper towels as stoppers in the Hydrochloric and Sulfuric bottles.

And for those requiring some degree of assistance thinking of something, let me add one more picture that might spark your memory of dear old dad.

Snow in Hiroshima!

Well, not a lot of snow, but enough to scrape together for a modest snowman. Ema can sing mostof Frosty the Snowman now, and she was pretty happy to put this little guy together.

A lazy day, with classes starting again on Tuesday. Ema is saying that she doesn't want to have a birthday party, thatin fact she doesn't want to turn four at all. This is because she knows that she'll be back in kindergarten for her fourth birthday, and she doesn't want to go. She has lots of friends, and she always seems to enjoy her time there, even telling Keiko she doesn't want to go home at the end of the day, but for some reason the actual going is really stressful for her. So she's decided that by indefinitely forestalling turning four, she can also avoid going back to school when the winter holiday is over.

Anyway, the photo below is in the kitchen, making tonkatsu, or batter-fried pork chops. Healthiest diet in the world, here. I will occasionally post things other than news and pics of Ema, but frankly she's usually the big story around here.

Tenacious D

I know exactly how geeky it is to post a youtube video to a blog, but really, wouldn't we all like to be Jack Black for a day? Chris, ever seen this before?

Though She Mocks Me......

To the left you see the horrifying remnants of my wife's late night snacking. Though normally a dainty eater, not one prone to gorging of anykind, she goes nuts in the presence of brie and baguette. I found this on the counter this morning and decided to share the horror with you guys.
I think the blog thing is a great idea. Props, as they say in the "hood", to Keiko. Dad, publishing and uploading is pretty easy. When you login to the blog there should be a NewPost button at the top right of the page, click on that and get CRAZY!!! As you guys can tell, I now have a digital camera so this blog comes at a perfect time. Expect many high res pictures of my hairiness. We need SOMETHING to counteract the cuteness that Matt insists on slopping all over the internet.

First Post

This is the first post of Manghams Aloft! You should all have received e-mail invitations to become blog authors, and when everyone signs on we can limit blog-viewers to people we invite. It may take you a post or two to figure out how to use the blogger program, but it's actually extremely easy.

This was Keiko's idea, and I think it's a good one. I'm notoriously bad at e-mails, but here we can all post messages, photos, links, and other stuff we want to share. I'd like to use it to help you all keep closer tabs on Ema than we've been able to manage before, and you guys can put on messages, your favorite youtube finds, thesis drafts or high resolution photographs of your hairy asses.

The picture at the top of this first post is Ema on a hospital visit to see Joy and Paul Jarman-Walsh's new daughter Nia. Cuteness all over the damn place.