bloganuary – Page 2 – Constance Kuntz

Poll-lease come up with a fresh prompt

Fern in her happy place. Photo taken by me in my unhappy place because she always beats me.

Today’s prompt: What’s your dream job?

Excuse me, but Bloganuary issued this prompt in 2023. I wrote Cursive and Curtsies because of it. I wonder if this prompt redux is an “oopsie” human error or the result of “beep boop boop” artificial intelligence. Either way, someone is not very good at their job.

***

My daughter Fern, 15, is at a chess tournament. I dropped her off at 7:30 this morning. She and her teammates and coaches greeted each other with smiles and excitement. The tournament is in Huntley, Illinois. Their slogan is, “The Friendly Village with Country Charm.” Somebody was paid a lot of money to come up with a code for “Whites Only.” I wonder if it was their dream job to do that. Huntley also touts itself as being an outer Chicago suburb located on “The Golden Corridor.” The Golden Corridor is I-90 which traverses 13 states and is the longest interstate in the United States.

***

Yesterday, there was a fatal accident off “The Golden Corridor.” Upon exiting I-90, a UPS truck crashed into a concrete barrier, rolled over and caught on fire. The burnt bodies of two men were found inside the truck. The autopsies are scheduled for Monday.

***

In 2021, my husband Jesse was a delivery guy for UPS for two months. It was a part-time holiday seasonal job. He had been laid off during the pandemic and though we had savings plus my monthly income, we weren’t exactly flush.

***

After I dropped Fern off this morning, I went to Starbucks. I ordered a venti cappuccino with almond milk at the drive-thru. The barista told me to pull around and I did. After a minute or so, she opened the window with a fervor reminiscent of the doorman from The Wizard of Oz. She handed me the credit card reader through the window and said, “It’s going to ask you a question.”

Frank Morgan as the Emerald City Doorman in The Wizard of Oz.

***

Frank Morgan didn’t only portray the doorman in The Wizard of Oz. He also played the Chauffeur with the Horse of a Different Color, Professor Marvel, the actual Wizard of Oz. I can instantly and clearly picture each character. He portrayed each of them with precision, sweetness and cheer. Now that’s a character actor! Was this gig his dream job?

***

Between the two of us, Jesse and I have had a lot of jobs. I’ve flipped burgers, he’s poured coffee, I’ve written plays, he’s acted in commercials, I’ve been a reporter, he’s been a designer, I’ve fluffed towels, he’s hung truss, I’ve guided free hikes, he’s called multimillion-dollar shows.

It’s time for me to pick up Fern so I have to go. Thanks for reading and if you took the time to answer the poll, thank you for doing that, too! -Connie

Playing chess with Angelo while waiting for Fern to finish her tournament.

Oh Canada!

Today’s prompt: What makes a good leader?

***

When I was shoveling the front walk this morning, I heard the honking of a skein of Canada geese flying overhead. I looked up and saw them in that familiar V formation, heading west. Canada geese frequently fly over our house but never stop to hydrate, rest or snack. Ducks, turkeys, foxes and owls visit our back yard all year long. We’ve even hosted a great blue heron a few times! But the Canada geese have never appreciated our hospitality. Year after year, they snub us and it hurts.

***

The thing that makes a good leader is also what makes a good follower: awareness.

awareness of self
awareness of surroundings
awareness of others

***

The V formation is is a natural model of efficiency, determination and destination. I’ve read that geese don’t necessarily have the “strongest” goose at the point. I’ve read that they place the strongest and weakest throughout the V and take turns at different “stations” of the formation before exhaustion kicks in. They honk to communicate when it’s time for a shift change. So it’s not a “strongest in front, weakest in back” mentality. It’s “I help you, you help me.” I think this is brilliant. I’ve never seen a goose, strong or weak, fall out of the sky.

***

I’ve known many good leaders and many good followers. The best leaders I know are also the best followers. Likewise, the best followers I know are the best leaders. They know their strengths and their weaknesses. They’re aware.

***

My favorite famous leader is Sir Paul McCartney because he’ll jam with anyone; sometimes leading, sometimes following, sometimes performing alone. I love his music and stage presence. He always seems legitimately inspired. He looks and sounds like he’s honoring something divine whenever he plays music.

Here’s a video of Sir Paul leading and following. There’s a lot going on and I love every second of it but I am a fan. A non-fan might not be that impressed because the crowd isn’t super engaged. I’m showing this because it shows how he leads and follows even when the crowd sort of sucks. It’s still a “joy, joy…such a joy, joy!”

***

Thanks for reading. -Cosmically Conscious Connie

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Geese fly overheard at Indian Hills Forest Preserve.

One ringy dingy

This moment is brought to you by social media. That’s my mom Connie Ross, her dog Willow, and two books by Bob Hill.

Today’s prompt: If you could un-invent something, what would it be?

I was in fourth grade when I learned that Alexander Graham Bell invented the telephone. I kind of think that’s something that six-month-old babies know nowadays but yeah, fourth grade is when I learned about Alexander Graham Bell.

Moving on: I remember how Sister Margaret Rose told us that Mr. Bell failed numerous times before his contraption worked. She commended him for having “the patience of Job” to get the job done.

Sister loved a good anecdote and told us about Bell’s first phone call to his friend Thomas Watson:

“Watson was in the other room!…within earshot!…and Alexander Graham Bell called him!… It was how he tested to see if the telephone worked!…and when Watson answered, Bell said, ‘Come here I want to show you something!'”

My classmates and I cracked up with Sister. This was comedy gold.

***

A few minutes ago, I heard my 17-year-old son Sam sneeze. He’s in the basement and I’m in the dining room. I texted him, “Are you okay? I just heard a terrible sneezing fit.”

He texted back, “Yep. Sorry.”

***

Growing up in the 1970’s and 1980’s, when the phone rang, my father would say, “One ringy dingy” after the first ring. He rarely said, “Two ringy dingies” after the second ring because the phone was almost always answered by the the second ring.

***

I still do not know who “Job” was but I hear someone reference him and his patience at least once a month.

***

I just looked up “Patience of Job” on my phone. According to Catholic.com, Job was an educated Jew and probably lived in Palestine.

***

When I go to bed at night, I feel a moment of giddy anticipation knowing that when I wake up in the morning, I get to play the holy trinity of NY Times word games on my phone: Connections, Spelling Bee and Wordle. These simple word games are as integral to my morning routine as coffee.

***

After I finish Connections, Spelling Bee and Wordle, I check social media to see if anyone shared their “test results.”

***

When I was in eighth grade, I was in my prime…for making prank phone calls. I called Paesano’s, the local pizza joint, and ordered five extra large pizzas to be delivered to my classmate’s house. (Sorry Justin.) I called another classmate, disguised my voice and said I was calling from “Dialing for Dollars” and that she had just won a lot of money! She said, “Connie, I know it’s you,” and I hung up on her. (Sorry Megan.) I prank-called every single one of my eighth grade classmates, and denied it the second I was caught. Should I be in jail?

***

Most summers I’ll take a month or more off from social media. Last summer, I took three months off. I always lose weight during these hiatuses. And I always gain it back when I got back to social media.

***

Last night, a friend of mine shared a status update on social media stating that he had lunch with a fellow author / journalist. It was a name I recognized because he was friends with my late father. Though I hadn’t seen the author / journalist since the late 1970’s, I remembered him well and fondly. I mentioned in the thread that my parents had one of his books on their bookshelf. I went over to my mom’s today, told her about the “blast from the past” and she showed me two books. I love moments of friendship and books and it happened because of social media.

***

If I could un-invent something, it wouldn’t be my cell phone or social media. It would be electroshock therapy and other treatments that make people forget. Without these #bloganuary prompts that are delivered to my website, I wouldn’t have thought to remember any of these memories.

Thanks for reading. Hope this jogged some of your memories! -Connie

Spoiler alert: Hamlet dies and so does Ophelia

Today’s prompt: Can you share a positive example of where you’ve felt loved?

I’d rather share about someone else’s moment of love.

It was the winter of 1997 and I was stage managing Hamlet at Park Square Theatre in St. Paul, Minnesota. It was a huge cast and the actors portraying Ophelia and Horatio were dating.

In case you are unfamiliar with the play, Ophelia (spoiler alert) goes nuts and dies. Horatio, on the other hand, is generally stable and a survivor. He’s Hamlet’s best bud. Super loyal. When (spoiler alert) Hamlet dies, Horatio says the famous line, “Good night, sweet prince.”

Back to Ophelia. At her funeral, Hamlet’s mom Gertrude famously says, “Sweets to the sweets” as she sprinkles flowers on Ophelia’s corpse. This signals the other mourners (and there are dozens) to pass by the dead girl and pay their respects in all the typical ways.

Older characters like Polonius move slowly as they shake their heads with old timey grief.

Young maidens scuttle by, carefully avert their eyes, lightly sniffle and generally keep their shit together.

Ophelia’s brother Laertes, on the other hand, weeps dramatically and threatens to throw himself into the grave cuz he’s a dork.

King Claudius (Hamlet’s step-dad) acts corporate and solemn cuz he’s a prick.

Funeral scenes can be a lot of fun. If you’ve ever seen or done Oklahoma! then you surely agree that “Pore Jud Is Daid” is delightful, haunting, hilarious and sad all at once. But in Hamlet, Ophelia’s funeral…meh…it was pretty much what you’d expect.

Except for the following aforementioned “positive example”:

The actor portraying Horatio gave the dead Ophelia’s foot a little squeeze as he passed by her during the funeral procession. It wasn’t blocked — it was never discussed, rehearsed or directed. It was just something the actor started doing once the show opened. He’d pass by the deceased, squeeze her little foot, and move on. It was so sweet and tender. I’m telling you I could feel the love! Not just the respectful love Horatio had for Ophelia, but the love the actor portraying Horatio had for his girlfriend the actor portraying Ophelia.

I always felt that one little squeeze encapsulated Horatio’s character. Horatio saw it all, felt deeply about it all and he lived to tell about it. That little squeeze summed that up for me.

It was a good show — I love Hamlet — but the foot squeeze was the moment I found most impactful. It made Ophelia’s death that much sadder, and somehow heightened the sensitivity of the play for me. Good stuff. And I know that moment only existed between those two actors. I’ve seen may stagings and film versions of Hamlet but only one production had the foot squeeze.

***

A year or so later, the couple married. Not long after that, they had a baby then moved to the north woods of Wisconsin to live off the grid and I haven’t seen them since.

I just googled their names and they’re still living their dream. I love that for them and I love that I got to see the foot squeeze.

Has pepper ever made you sneeze?

Today’s prompt: Where can you reduce clutter in your life?

I was thinking about the “clutter” prompt as I was cooking dinner (spaghetti and meatballs) this evening. I wanted to add a dash of pepper to my sauce so I reached for my pepper shaker. The moment I picked it up, the tiny plug fell out of the bottom and the pepper immediately poured out and made a mess. Not only that, it caused me to sneeze.

Don’t worry. They were cute, barely audible, miniature sneezes. More like sneezettes, really. The kind that makes you think, “Oh how whisper-like and adorable!”

While I was being dainty and feminine, it dawned on me that I really need to de-clutter my spice rack. Between sneezettes, I wondered “Why do I have three separate containers — and brands– of cumin?” and “I bought the garam marsala in the summer and have used it once. Will I ever use it again?” and “Didn’t I buy that cream of tartar at Byerly’s…when I lived in Minneapolis…more than twenty years ago…the first time I made snickerdoodles?”

Suffice to say, I’ve made plans to clean up my spice rack. Tomorrow morning, it’s going to sparkle! After that, I may move on to organize the coat closet or or clean out the fridge. It’s a brand new year, baby. Time to tidy!

Or not. Probably not.

It would appall you how much crap we have. Our mantle alone is filled with old mushrooms and that’s hardly the only place I feature “God’s art.” Every flat surface in this house features rocks, feathers, pine cones, leaves, twigs, horse chestnuts and old bird nests.

On top of that, we have art supplies, light bulbs, tools, old toys, puzzles, books, candles, flashlights, first aid kits, musical instruments, cables, batteries, extension cords, adapters and more situated throughout the house. We have a drawer filled with hot sauce packets…and nothing else. It’s fine. We’re weird, I don’t care and I don’t mind the clutter.

Thanks for reading! -Connie

P.S. Until tonight, I thought pepper-induced sneezing was something that only happened in cartoons. I’m going to tell you the truth: It’s much cuter when it’s Tom (the gray cat from Tom & Jerry) sneezing, versus, say, a 54-year-old Rockford woman.

P.P.S. If you’re wondering, the spaghetti dinner was ruined from the pepper and sneezing so I ended up serving egg rolls and leftover mashed potatoes.

Mary Oliver’s ‘soft animal’

Today’s Prompt: What is your favorite animal?

My favorite animal is the “soft animal” that Mary Oliver wrote about in her poem, “Wild Geese.” Maybe you don’t know the poem, but you’ve probably heard the line, “You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.”

Isn’t that just perfect?

The first time I read the poem, I instantly felt my soft animal roll through my belly like a warm, slow, viscous wave.

It’s been decades since we first met, but the animal still rolls through me from time to time, reminding me that I am so, so alive.

Here’s Mary Oliver’s poem. -Connie

Wild Geese

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting -
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

-Mary Oliver (1935-2019)

P.S. This post is part of the 2024 #bloganuary challenge. I can’t write every day this year, as I have the last two years, but I will participate when time allows.

Ironically, wild geese are *not* my favorite animal, but darnit, look at those goslings!

Good for her

Judith Slaying Holofernes by Artemesia Gentileschi.

In 2013, the painting Judith Slays Holofernes by 17th century Italian artist Artemesia Gentileschi made its way to the Art Institute of Chicago. It’s a painting of woman cutting off her rapist’s head. It’s bloody, grim and grotesque. As such, it’s unsettling and awesome to behold.

Because the woman is still in the process of slicing off the man’s head, the painting feels very alive, very active. Merely thinking about it some ten years later after seeing it in person, I think of the decapitation as somehow still happening — eternal even! Hell for the rapist because ouch. Heaven for the woman because justice. And heaven for her helper because yay team. This is the part where I mention I’m not an art critic.

Anyway, the painting was only “visiting” Chicago. (It’s currently residing at Museo e Real Bosco di Capodimonte in Naples, Italy.) Realizing that we may never get the chance to see it again, Jesse and I took our kids (then ages 3, 4, 6 and 8) to see it and met a family friend at the museum, too. Good family fun.

Just three pals having a good laugh after visiting “Judith.” That’s me, Ishanee “Good for her” DeVas in the middle and Jesse. (Photo by Jocelyn, age 8.)

When we were looking at the painting, I asked my friend something along the lines of, “What do you think?” and she said, “Good for her.”

My God, I love hearing women say that about other women. It just…ahhhhhh. I don’t condone violence, but there’s something about hearing someone say, “Good for her” that makes me happy.

I’ve had several “good for her” moments in my life but today I had a “good for him” moment.

A choreographer apparently smeared dog feces on a critic after receiving a negative review. I instantly thought, “Good for _____” as I clicked on the ~~bait~~ link to find out if the choreographer was male, female or non-binary. I saw that the choreographer was male and finished my thought. “–him.”

Yes. Good for him.

Hey, we all thin-slice. We have instincts and make split-second decisions. But by and large, my response time to violence of any kind starts with a sigh followed by, “Hold on; we don’t know the whole story.”

But the second I heard that someone smeared shit in a critic’s face, my heart filled with cheer, pride and respect.

“Good for him!” I repeated, this time with an exclamation point.

You know what? I haven’t read the full story. I haven’t even tried to get the other side. I haven’t even looked to see if the choreographer himself might possibly need some kind of counseling or anger management. Nope. The reason?

I can’t stand critics.

The reason for the reason? Oh, many, but the nutshell version is I think professional critics are part of the problem, not the solution.

Have you seen the movie An Officer and a Gentleman? In the climax, Richard Gere goes after Debra Winger in what is arguably the most romantic movie ending of all time. As he scoops Winger up and kisses her, Winger’s unlikeable friend claps for her and says, “Way to go, Paula. Way to go!”

While the the bleach-blonde “Lynette” character is far from wholesome, her cheering is sincere. As such, I recognize it is not wholesome of me to cheer for a shit smearer, but it’s sincere and coming from a place of respect.

Thanks for reading.

Connie

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=73OMLWRDjic

P.S. Fern (now 14) and Angelo (13) are sitting at the same table as me, only they are playing chess, not blogging. I just showed them a picture of the painting and asked them if they remembered seeing it. Fern immediately recognized it and Angelo said he didn’t recognize it but had seen many paintings like that. He then called the painting “disturbing.”

Things

I would not have noticed this if I didn’t have to walk Barbara.

Today’s prompt is Where is the best place to watch the sunset near you?

I love this question because I love winter light. It’s one of the “things” that gets me through January. Though I have seen spectacular sunsets splashed across Chicago’s skyline, the best place to watch one is right here at home in the dead of winter when I’m doing regular old mom things like walking my dog or folding laundry in my bedroom.

I love how the sun sets on the little garages in my neighborhood. I would not have noticed if I didn’t have to fold laundry.

This is the last day of Bloganuary which is another thing that gets me through January. This is my second year and I’m so grateful for this challenge! I noticed I started to “crave” Bloganuary in the summer and by the time November rolled around, I was eager for it to begin. I’ve enjoyed reading the work of the other bloggers on the community page, especially the writing of my husband Jesse who participated for the first time.

Last year I set a goal of writing a blog for 100 days. I met and exceeded that goal. This year, I’m stopping today. I’m not going to stop writing; I’m going to stop writing with a prompt or a technical goal. In other words, I’ll still blog, but not necessarily every day and I won’t share it on Facebook unless it’s urgent. My goal is to see how I write when I don’t have to write.

If you want to still read my blog, you can subscribe to it and the new entries will simply show up in your email inbox.

On that, I leave you with a haiku the day before National Haiku Month begins.

january's sun has set 
time to write 
in new light

Thank you from the bottom of my heart for reading!

Connie

The Book Thief?

Today’s prompt is What would you title the chapters of your autobiography?

Short answer: I wouldn’t write an autobiography.

Long answer:

In high school, there was a copy of Living it Up Or, They Still Love Me in Altoona by George Burns in our house. The book was published in 1976 when George Burns was 80.

One day I saw the hardcover book on the marble table in the living room. Another day I saw it on the dining room table. Another day I saw it on the radiator in the kitchen. Another day I saw it on the radiator by the front door. I’m not sure who was moving the book, but one day I grabbed it, read it and loved it. In fact, I loved it so much I brought it to college with me. (That’s my way of saying I stole the book.) After graduation, I brought “my” beloved book with me to Minneapolis where I carted it around for another 16 years to six different apartments.

A little about George Burns, in case you are young.

Besides being an author, George Burns was a famous comedian and actor with a Vaudeville background. He was one of those guys who seemed old even when he was young but he was so funny and charismatic that he appealed to all ages. Burns smoked cigars, had an invitingly scratchy voice and seemed to be perpetually squinting his eyes. At 5-foot-7, he was shorter than most men but had a personality that was so charismatic and commanding that he was cast as actual God in the 1977 film Oh, God!

Another important tidbit about Burns is that he worked well and equitably with his wife, Gracie Allen from the 1920s-1960s in radio, film and television.

A little about the 1920s-60s, in case you are young: Most women didn’t work back then, especially on the radio or on camera or with their spouse.

Moving on, Burns’ book is filled with stories and anecdotes about his professional and personal experiences including a whole chapter about his friend the comedy legend Jack Benny. Though it’s been decades since I read the book, Burns wrote that Benny was perpetually looking for a good cup of coffee. After Benny died, Burns said something about how he hoped his friend finally found a good cup of coffee in heaven. I’m paraphrasing. I can’t remember it verbatim but I will tell you the chapter left such an indelible impression on me that I think of Jack Benny and George Burns every single time I drink coffee. Every time! That’s good writing!

Since reading Living it Up, or They Still Love Me in Altoona, I have read dozens of celebrity and political autobiographies and memoirs by people I respect (Barack Obama) and people I loathe (Ivanka Trump), and I’ve never been fulfilled by any of them! I first fell in political love with Barack Obama because he’s such a good writer but I still prefer the writing of George Burns over my favorite president. And if you must know, I’m straight up pissed at myself for reading Ivanka’s obnoxious Women Who Work – Rewriting the Rules of Success. But I cannot resist reading “guilty pleasures.” In other words, you can count on me to read Spare by Prince Harry.

But Burns’ book wasn’t (or isn’t) a guilty pleasure. It has old school class, wit and wisdom. It’s warm and unique. I’ll continue to read autobiographies and memoirs but I’ll never write one.

Thanks for reading.

Enjoying my coffee,

Connie

Twilight

Today’s prompt is What is something you learned recently?

I started a new contract a month ago so let’s start there.

It’s through AmeriCorps and I am the coordinator for 815 Outside. That means for the next 1200 hours, you can find me leading free hikes in our local forest preserves and green spaces. My goal — our goal — is to get as many people outside as possible.

I work out of Severson Dells Nature Center. From there, I organize the hikes, write a weekly blog, and take care of the social media and press releases. Sometimes I have work to do outside the office in the form of board meetings, breakfast soirees or film festivals.

Most of that is stuff I already knew how to do. However, I didn’t know how to do it for AmeriCorps and that’s where today’s “What is something you learned recently?” prompt comes in.

Here is a list of the “little” things I’ve learned recently:

How to make a reel on Instagram
What a “dolomite prairie” is
The different degrees of twilight
What the backcountry is
What “mushroom coffee” tastes like (hint: ass)
How to drive on rural roads during a snowstorm
That I need to invest in Carhartts or some other insulated bibs

Hiking through the woods and into the twilight.

I’m still learning what it means to be an AmeriCorps member. I’m still learning what it takes to engage with the community. I’m still learning how to make the hikes as inclusive as possible. I’m still learning who the community is. I’m still learning who the public is!

Public spaces and public events are — for the most part — safe, free places for people to exist, grow, change and learn. I wish more people would go into them. Maybe I’ll learn how to effectively encourage that before my 1200 hours are up.

Thanks for reading. Sorry it’s so work-related and “link heavy.” Annoying. It’s my day off and it always takes me a few hours (at least) to transition out of my public work mode to my dark, private (and whole) self. I guess you could call this time my twilight.

Going dark in five-four-three-two,

Connie

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