In Response to George Bogin's "Nineteen"

I wonder about regret sometimes.  
This "grass is always greener," sepia-toned, magic "if," that can take hold.  


Perhaps seeing a ray of light with "dust in the sunbeams"activates this memory.  
Perhaps an argument with a spouse, a slammed door - and suddenly you are face-to-face with "the one that got away."  


Sometimes a song with lyrics and a dissonant golden voice will conjure the ghost.  
Most often it is a scent that triggers the golden zone when everything was perfect. 

But was it?  
What brings you back?  
What triggers the healthy hooping "I AM" of pride in our age? 

The pause in a glance at your sullen mate as you walk back through the door and embrace.  
Holding on, feeling the grasp of here, now.  
Smelling the scent of today.  
Looking over his shoulder at the dust on the shelf in the dappled sun light.  
As you walk with grace into old age.

First Book Club Letter - UCI Writing Project: Summer Intensive 2012

Thursday, June 28, 2012

Dear Book Club,

I began to read at a very young age.  I believe I was four years old.  My cousin taught me.  I grew up among avid readers and a family that was active in debate, argument, and discussion.  My family holds story telling as an important way of connecting with one another, so, if I wasn’t indoctrinated at an early age - my voice would not be heard and I would not be considered an active part of our family.

I will never forget always wanting to be near my Great- Grandma Mabel when she would come to visit my grandfather.  She would crochet beautiful blankets and tell wonderful stories of our family history.  I still remember the story of how she met my great-grandpa Earl - she stole his horse.  He was a trick rider and jumped on the back of the horse and scared “the day-lights” out of her.  She also told another story about herself as a young girl walking to market to buy a bunch of bananas for the family.  She was so hungry on the walk back that she ate the whole bunch!  The bananas were green and she ended up throwing them up.  This morality tale was, of course, shared with me after I had eaten a whole jar of her home made pickles, drank the juice, and promptly threw up. 

I think it was this early exposure to stories and discussion that led to my hunger to read.  I was starving for stories!  I soon discovered Roald Dahl and immersed myself in Madeline L’Engle.  Once I stepped foot in the wardrobe of C.S. Lewis’ I never wanted to come out.  I couldn’t stop.  I would spend every summer at the library and I could (and still do) read many books at the same time.

When I immerse myself in a book, I am in that world - the movie in my mind.  I find it very easy to do this.  I think this ability may perhaps have contributed to what led to my first career as a stage performer.  I know this ability has been key to providing me with my “vision” as a director.

I have always loved series novels, so, I have chosen a book by Cassandra Clare titled City of Bones.  This book is Book One of the series.  I am interested in enjoying this book and seeing if it would be an appropriate book for me to introduce to my students.  I had tremendous success with The Hunger Games series this year and I believe series novels can be an effective way to hook a student  proclaiming to hate reading into becoming a lover of stories.

Kindest Regards - 

Danyelle   

You and Me Against the World

You and me against the world 

Sometimes it feels like you and me against the world

When all the others turn their backs and walked away

You can count on me to stay

I gaze lovingly at our wedding day collage.  I see your face and this song, this message plays in my head.

Remember when the circus came to town

And you were frightened by the clown

Wasn’t it nice to be around someone that you knew

Someone who was big and strong and looking out for...

Our wedding day.  Your lips kiss my cheek and butterfly eyelash kisses simultaneously light my heart.  I look and see the smile on my face and I notice the clear , loving, protective, strong, searing eyes of you.  My heart beats fast remembering - jagged pieces of despair we endured that brought us to this day.

“We’re very sorry.  You have 15 minutes to clear your desk.”

“We can’t afford to keep the house.  We’re upside down.”

“What is a short sale?”

“We have to find a home for Sammy and Jojo.”

“Can I please look for a pet-friendly apartment?  I don’t want to lose them!”

“I don’t know if I will get another unemployment check.  Congress is on vacation.”

“Starbucks won’t hire me.”

The pain, the hurt, the worthlessness.  The fire of ineptitude.  Painful memories fly away as I gaze at the fork in my hand, and remember our cake-ey kiss and the tickling dizzy buzz of champagne.  I smile, remembering my giant cake decorating failure after I lost my job.  My attempt to take a class so I could feel part of something again.  I failed at that too.  Yet, this failure was filled with laughter and my invention of “Earthquake Cake.” 

You and me against the world

Sometimes it feels like you and me against the world

And for all the times we’ve cried I always felt that

God was on our side

The multi-colors of the stained glass window on our day fly at me as I gaze through my veil at this new world.  Sneaking a peek, I smile.  I hear the swish of mini-flower girls’ petticoats and the determined plip-platter of a mini ring bearing tuxedo with a sweet boy in there... somewhere.  I hear the gasp as the three kiddos adorably make their way down the aisle with careful meticulousness.  These wise little ones know instinctively this moment is fast and fleeting.  

Yes, I steel a glance, smelling the sumptuous roses in my hand.  Time stands still.  I hold a gracious grateful moment of prayer and a true triumphant smile. We made it.

I take a step.  You are there.  You smile.  We know.  Tunnel vision takes over and everyone is gone.  I know they are there - but the hubbub is soft and respectful.  There is only you and this energy - my wonderful light.  Strong.  Loving.

And when one of us is gone

And one of us is left to carry on

Then remembering will have to do

Our memories alone will get us through

Think about the days of me and you

You and me against the world

I love knowing we can do anything.

("You and Me Against the World" is a song written by Kenny Ascher and Paul Williams, recorded by Helen Reddy for her 1974 album Love Song for Jeffrey)

COFFEE (revised "My Cuppa")

COFFEE

by Danyelle Dunavold

Morning. 

Coffee. 

Serious coffee. 

I'm not messing around. 

No Folger's trying to be fancy by calling itself Costa Rican blend. 

No way. 

I'm talking Pike's Place blend. 

I'm talking French Roast. 

Give me Starbucks. 

Bold coffee. 

I don't care if it's over roasted. 

I don’t care if they've put some magical substance in it to make me crazy addicted. 

I love it. 

One cup is all I need... want. 

And I can tell the difference.

I know. 

We’re still in a recession. 

I’m a temporary teacher.

They don’t pay us year round and I’m supposed save my money for summer, blah blah blah...

I'm supposed to be ok with generic labels and Folgers. 

But I'm not. 

I can't take it. 

I just won't drink it. 

I tried. I tell you. I tried.

At least I'm buying my ten dollar bag of coffee 

and making it at home on my supersonic-smarter-than-me- “I-can-grind-the-coffee-and-do-your-taxes” -machine that I bought at Kohl’s on sale with a 75% off coupon and Kohls Kash. 

That's recession-y, isn't it?

And then there is the creamer. 

I can't do sugar and milk. 

No. 

It's gotta be french-vanilla-full-on-fatty-sugary-fakey-goodness! 

NO WAY to the fat free crap. 

I just can't take it.

The morning can be hard enough just waking up. 

But give me Folger's-fake-lable-costa-rican-blend-with-sugar-free-fat-free-coffee-mate and I am a roaring b*tch in my head all day. 

This means I may be smiling at you, 

but that glimmer in my eye 

is not some special hidden joy, 

but rather 

a deepening 

only-child-I-didn't-get-what-I-want 

RAGE

and 

I'd 

advise you 

to back 

the f**k 

off.

But not today. 

Today I'm smiling satisfactorily knowing that I have my perfect cuppa at an easy reach. 

I can handle anything. 

I can host a friggin United Nations Summit if you asked me. 

I believe it's 

MAGIC.