I teach an online radio play and podcast class on Monday nights and spend most of the day prepping for it. It’s a very creative class but also intensely technical so by this point, I’m fulfilled but also a little frazzled. You know what that means. Poem time!
Zoom teaching
fries the eyes
and the mind
still, it's a
deep dive in
to lives of
real people
imagined
characters
and places
i never
dreamed about
concerning
amusing
informing
essays, plays,
podcasts and
interviews
listen now
remember
forever
Thanks for reading my blog! What’s your favorite podcast or radio play? -Connie
Jesse travels quite a bit for work but was able to “sneak” home for 43 hours this weekend. I know the hours (and even the minutes) because the Kuntzes are a family that is ruled by the clock.
For decades, I’ve known about being “on the clock” and “rocking around the clock,” but being “ruled by the clock” wasn’t a phrase I had ever come across until the spring of 2018. That’s when I read Sound Reporting by Jonathan Kern for my old radio job.
On most days it doesn’t matter whether we’re reporters, editors, producers, directors, or hosts, our working days are ruled by the clock.
Jonathan Kern, Sound Reporting
Firstly, it’s a good book. If you enjoy news radio, especially NPR, read it.
Secondly, just working days, pal? Show me one person in news radio who truly takes a day off. Show me one radio person who doesn’t always have one eye on the clock. If there’s a fire, radio people will look at the time before they look for the exit.
Empaths, I invite you to grab a partner and act the following scene from A Conversation You Will Never Hear in a Radio Station by Connie Kuntz.
John: Oh, I forgot my phone and watch and all 17 clocks within 25 feet of each other are missing. Do you know what time it is?
Mary: Gosh, I have no idea.
John: It’s still morning, right?
Mary: Not sure!
John: So what’s new?
Mary: How would I know?
The world explodes. End of scene.
You see, it’s funny because it’s a conversation you would never hear in a radio station.
Anyway, my family and I are ruled by the clock, just not as much radio people. So before Jesse decided to squeeze his break in, we debated whether it would be worth it to come home for such a short interval. There are times when it’s best to stay in the “work groove” because breaks don’t always refresh and renew the spirit so much as destroy momentum. Normally we “choose momentum,” but not this time and I’m glad.
While he was home, we went to Funderburg Forest Preserve for a hike. I was on the lookout for fresh mushrooms but found an abundance of sharply-lobed bloodroot instead. Cute!
Bloodroot.
Seeing the spring ephemeral softened my stress but it was a very windy afternoon.
Illinois wind is not exactly the loving caress of Mother Nature. It’s aggressive and a little cruel. It cuts into your eyes and tangles your hair. But it also has a way of knocking some sense into you so by the time we met our kids back at the trailhead, we were all smiles.
Mother Nature is not ruled by the clock but she knows how to slow time down. She’s amazing. I’m not sure what inspires her, but I know we should listen to her more often.
Thanks for reading my blog. Nine more days until I reach the 100-day mark. But who’s counting? -Connie
Sam, Angelo and Fern off the trails at Funderburg.
Great news: I won a 2022 Action Micro-Grant to produce the 2nd Annual Winter Solstice Poetry Caroling event. That’s Wednesday, December 21, 2022 at 3:00p.m. in Walker Park. Please save the date for this free, outdoor event. Everyone is welcome. Our first year was a wonderful success. Here’s some of the feedback.
"The jingle bells and drums were a GREAT touch. Hearing the different arrangements of voices - also very moving. What a great (new) tradition to add to our Christmas traditions
Thank you! I loved it so much."
"LOVED IT!!! THANK YOU!!!"
"We loved it, Miss Connie. Thank you!"
"Wonderful project."
"We LOVED it! It was a surprise for my family and our guests and everyone was enthused and excited about it. THANK YOU for the book of poetry and the candy/chocolate for the kids! I certainly thought that a live poetry delivery in the dark of the longest night was a gift all in itself! Thanks for sharing all of these gifts with all of us!"
"It was lovely, Connie and family—thank you so much for the visit."
"Amazing! So loving. So in the spirit."
"Awesome!"
Now that I have “proof” that poetry caroling is fun AND I have a grant, I have time dedicated to recruiting more carolers! Join us!
Poetry caroling is similar to Christmas caroling. Carolers meet at Walker Park at 3:00 and I hand out scripts. We have a quick rehearsal to assign parts, check pronunciations and establish rhythm.
We walk through the neighborhood, gently shaking a variety of acoustic, handheld instruments. Once at the doorstep, we shake our instruments with intensity for a few seconds. Once our “guests” are outside, we share a curated arrangement of poems.
It’s tremendously exciting! The way the poetry sounds and feels outside in the cold, dark night is amazing.
Poems or excerpts from poems will be selected and arranged from (at least) the following:
–Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening by Robert Frost
–Dreams by Langston Hughes
–Appalachian Elegy (select sections) by bell hooks
–Let the Light Enter by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
–Do not go gentle into that good night by Dylan Thomas
The poems selected reflect the spirit, hope, truth and love of the longest, darkest night of the year.
I’ll work on the arrangement a little closer to the date. The final “script” will move along quite nicely. We are at each residence for less than 10 minutes.
Everyone is welcome to come poetry caroling with us! All I ask is that you let me know you are coming so I print enough scripts and have enough snacks and wassail. I also will need to make sure we have the proper amount of cars organized for the caravan.
The details:
-Meet at Walker Park on Wednesday, Dec. 21, 2022 at 3:00 p.m.
-I’ll hand out scripts.
-I’ll assign parts and lead a quick rehearsal to check volume, pronunciations, tone, rhythm, etc.
-Chugro will lead the caravan safely to each destination.
-The homes / places we are caroling will know we are coming. We are not “surprising” anyone. We are not going inside anyone’s home. We are not asking for anything in return. We are not caroling any houses that do not want to be caroled.
-The schedule is tight because it will be cold. Now…save the date! Wednesday, Dec. 21, 2022 from 3:00-5:00 p.m. -Connie
This morning when I was walking Willow, I spied my first fresh mushroom of the season! I was so excited…until I took a closer look and realized it was a wine cork. In my defense, it was raining and my glasses were a little wet. I was disappointed, but not terribly so. It can’t stay cold forever. The earth is warming up and the mushrooms will be here soon!
***
When Angelo got home from school, he mentioned something about his “digital journal.” He keeps a daily diary for school. I did not know this! I asked if I could read it. He said I could. He started it in September and the last entry is today. It was riveting!
He had an entry in there about being backed into a corner by some bullies during science class. He wrote about how much he loves chess, cross country and track. He wrote about how much he likes skating “even though I’m bad at it.” He wrote about his goals. He had entries in there about reading at night, running with Fern on the weekends and making movies with Sam. He wrote about how much Jesse travels for work, how much he likes Roblox, The One and Only Ivan and The Grinch. He described our front yard as “bland” and how he wasn’t quiet during a “silent hike.” He wrote about how much he adores his oldest sister. The whole thing: freakin’ gold!
Angelo at a track meet. Photo by Fern.
But back to my morning mushroom mishap. I noticed that he wrote about me in November.
“My mom is obsessed with mushrooms,” he wrote. “It’s strange.”
Oh. Well, note to self.
Angelo gave me permission to write about this and has approved this blog. Before I sign off, I want to say one more thing. It’s a freakin’ gift to be able to read your kid’s journal. Feeling very grateful.
Thanks for reading my Angelo-approved blog. -Connie
I hit a pothole and popped my front tire. My mechanic recommended I go to Marvin’s Tire Shop to replace it so I did. I called them to make an appointment but the receptionist said I didn’t need one.
“Come anytime,” she said.
“Wow, thanks.” I said. “I’ll be there in ten.”
I grabbed a book (Morning Haiku by Sonia Sanchez) and headed over there. I figured I’d have to wait for at least an hour.
I figured wrong. You don’t even get out of your car!
When you pull into the lot, someone comes up to your window like the roller-skating waitresses on Happy Days. In my case, it was a man and he was wearing sensible shoes. Anyway, I didn’t know this sort of customer service still existed. When he appeared carside, I was so startled that I forgot how to roll down my windows. I ended up opening my car door to communicate because I’m an idiot.
By the time I figured out how to speak to another human, he already saw the spare and knew why I was there. He directed me to pull into the garage and one of the mechanics got to work.
He jacked up the car — this next part is important — with me in it.
I was mortified! With each pump, I felt things jiggle that I had never before felt jiggle. The new sensation triggered my doubts and insecurities.
Oh my god. Was I supposed to get out? Is the man going to die from the extra weight?
I looked ahead to the car in front of me and saw that the driver was still inside.
Phew! Phew, phew, phew!
Once my initial shock wore off, I cracked open my book but quickly realized I was too excited to concentrate on literature, especially the corny-ass forward.
From the moment i opened the book and read the first haiku, i slid onto the floor and cried and was changed. i had found me. -Sonia Sanchez
Good for you, but I don’t want to read this book now.
I looked up and found the poetry my soul was craving.
I saw another mechanic lift and dip a dusty old tire into a big tub of what looked like a warm, sudsy solution. When he pulled it out, the tire was as shiny as a seal.
Then another vehicle pulled up behind me and I saw another mechanic jack up that car with the driver still in it. I know it’s rude to stare, but I had to watch. I turned around in my seat and observed the driver jiggle with each pump. It is the most satisfying thing I have ever seen.
When I turned back around, my mechanic was already done! He released the jack. The van and I wafted down to the ground. It was the first time I have ever wafted. And as I wafted, I felt all of my cares and worries drift away. Bliss.
Until today, I had never been inside a professional garage. Jiffy Lube, sure, but nothing like this. I’ve always been sent to a boring waiting area or if it was at K-Mart or Wal*Mart, they’ve told me to “go shop.” This was so much better.
Thank you for reading my blog. If you’re local, I hope if and when you get a flat tire you head over to Marvin’s! -Connie
Illinois Governor J.B. Pritzker signed the ‘most equity-centric’ marijuana legalization bill into law more than two years ago.
Happy 420 Day to those who celebrate. I’m not one of the celebrators but, should that ever change, I’m glad it’s legal in Illinois. Here’s a tanka I just wrote to commemorate this special day.
recreational
marijuana is legal
in the prairie state
it grows in our fertile fields
cultivated by state law
In order to avoid any and all dreadful pot puns, I will keep today’s blog short. Thank you for reading! -Connie-bis
I have a character in my new play-in-progress currently named “Skin Donkey.” He is a vile man who breeds and sells pandas on the black market in South Carolina. When I was thinking about what to name this character, I remembered something a friend of mine told me in college.
Pete was from Pierz, Minnesota which is located in the central part of the state. One afternoon, he was talking about the local black bear population. He spoke of them sympathetically, which I appreciated. This was 32 years ago at our lunch table, so I don’t remember the conversation verbatim, but it went something like this.
“What must the bears think of us? They see us in their forest,” he said. “We must look naked to them because we don’t have fur on our skin.”
I liked animals and had high hopes of one day seeing a bear in the woods, but had never thought about what they might think of our fur-less appearance. That they might think we looked naked and bare. Ugly, sickening, revolting.
Pete’s words would forever change the way I thought of animals, wild and domestic. And his words informed the way I named the panda breeder in my play.
The “Skin” part comes from the “we don’t have fur on our skin” conversation with Pete but the “Donkey” part comes from my cat Smokey who was sitting near me when I was writing. Sometimes we think she moves a little bit like an old donkey and call her “Donkey.”
I immediately liked the sound of “Skin Donkey” but I also thought the name could work because the characters in my play sometimes get their species “confused.” For instance, Skin Donkey sometimes refers to the pandas as pigs because a male panda is a boar and a female is a sow.
I realize this is way too much context, but I want you to know that I do have what I consider an organic process when it comes to naming my characters.
***
A few days ago, I saw an NPR story about that The Velveteen Rabbit by Margery Williams. The book is celebrating its 100-year anniversary. I read the article with interest because The Velveteen Rabbit is a book that I read numerous times to my children and loved the use of the word “scarcely” in it. Like so many of our books, I read it until the pages fell apart. Even though I had read it several times, I had forgotten there was a character called “the Skin Horse” in it until I read the NPR story.
Dammit!
Now I have to re-name the character. I’m leaning toward “Donkey Pete” but I have to think about it, which I’ll do tonight at Tuesdays@9 when my pages get read.
Speaking of Tuesdays@9, I better go get ready. Thanks for reading my blog. -Connie
P.S. The main reason I moved to Minneapolis after college was to pursue theatre, but I also moved there in hopes of seeing a black bear in the wild. I lived there 16 years and never saw one. Booooo!
Willow took me on a new route today. She stopped and stared at this section for a full minute, maybe longer. I have no idea what she saw. But as she stared at whatever she was staring at, I noticed for the first time there is a crosswalk to the cemetery. How have I missed this?
I walk to the cemetery at least once a year. I enjoy strolling in the graveyard but because I have to cross a busy street (Auburn) to get to it, I rarely visit. Today I found out all I have to do is press the button to stop traffic and I can cross with reasonable safety. I’ll head over there later this week because once inside the cemetery, it’s peaceful and interesting.
I like to visit the bishops’ circle. That’s the final resting space for the (deceased) bishops from the Rockford Diocese. I knew some of them because I went to Catholic school for twelve years. When I walk around the circle, I wonder things.
I wonder how much they knew about the scandal. I wonder how many things they covered up. I wonder if any of them resent being buried there, next to the bishops that came before and after them.
Most people I know don’t seem to like or even respect their predecessors or their proteges. They certainly don’t want to be buried next to them. Maybe it’s different for bishops. I’ll never know.
I teach on Monday nights and was buried in prep and playwriting this afternoon hence the late night blog. Now it’s time for bed. Thanks for reading. -Connie
I was checking my blog metrics last night and saw that there were 666 views on my story about the Rockford Fringe Festival. I’m not terribly superstitious but is the universe implying a theatre fringe festival would be apocalyptic and beastly? It’s Easter and Passover, ffs. Be nice, universe!
I have a busy day today, as I’m sure you do, too, so this will be quick. Happy Easter, if you celebrate. May the spirit and hope of the Resurrection fill your day.
And if Passover is your thing, Happy Pesach! Sam and I made some macaroons to commemorate the exodus of the Jews from slavery in Egypt. So if you are feeling trapped and used, may the spirit of this holiday fill you with the tenacity, speed and fortitude to pursue your truth.
Macaroons before we drizzled the chocolate.
Whatever your religion or faith, I hope you enjoy celebrating and commemorating. Thanks for reading! -Connie
Editor’s note: I thought about not writing today because it is our anniversary which is to say it’s a sacred day. But I don’t want to quit blogging until I reach the 100-day mark, at least, so here I am. Read at your own risk.
Happy 18th Anniversary, Goldie. You light up my life and I love you.
I looked it up and eighteen is porcelain. That’s what toilets are made of so cheers to a practical and necessary anniversary?
Material goods aren’t really our thing, but nature is and I’ve always loved the unpredictable, natural elements of our anniversary.
When we got married, it was 81 and sunny. Today, it’s literally forty degrees colder and windy here in Rockford. But the sun is shining and I can feel the warm spirit of our beautiful day in my jaw, my chest. My temples.
There will be a full moon tonight. The media is calling this one the “pink moon.” Why do they have to call it anything? It’s like assigning porcelain to an anniversary.
Last year on our anniversary, a great horned owl visited our backyard. Awesome.
And I remember the year before that we had a little double-date in our backyard with the ducks. It was the beginning of the pandemic and neither of us wanted to venture too far from home. It seems funny now, but I was afraid to even go to the backyard. And by funny, I mean kind of sad and disturbing.
Most (all?) years we’ve celebrated with a run or walk or hike or bike ride. I’m glad we take it outside. And I’m glad for the days we don’t leave the house. I’m glad for the days I look up from my “morning chair” and I see you on the couch, surrounded by books, art and animals.
But this morning you weren’t there because you were, and are, in San Diego. I do wonder what the pink moon will look like when you get back to your hotel room tonight. Will you be able to see it over the Pacific Ocean? Will you even look for it? I will if you will and for tonight only I’ll let it light up my life. Here’s to 18 more and then 18 more after that. ❤
To the rest of you non-Goldies: Thank you for reading my blog. -Connie
Constance Kuntz 