Logopedics: The two words and the Word

Poem:

To speak a word makes me human, a part of mankind
To write a word helps me become culture, civilized and refined
But to know, love and serve the Word is to know, love and serve He who is Divine

Thoughts:

"Logopedics" is not used now. Speech pathology is. Dr. Martin F. Palmer invented it from to Greek words. It means to teach speech or to teach words. Christians know that St. John spoke of the Word, Logos, becoming flesh and dwelling among us, which is why I think Palmer coined Logopedics.

Now, there are two kinds of mundane words, spoken and written. In 1964, I could neither speak nor write intelligently. Honestly, I couldn't write at all. I began to go to "speech" lessons immediately and would have them three times a week for the next ten years.

I also began to learn to read immediately. But I could never use a pencil, pen or chalk to print anything but by name, David, and that very crudely.

I was eight when my Occupational Therapist, Clara Dubbs, put me in front of an old typewriter with a guard on it to keep me from hitting more than one key that I could begin to put words on paper.

Shortly after that, with very little thought, I decided to become a writer. So the next few years saw me going to O.T. and typing whatever I wanted. (I knew nothing of sex so there was no chance of my writing dirty.) Eventually, I wrote a story that my preceptor, Elizabeth Bosley, saw and critiqued. It was the first time anyone had honestly pointed out my many flaws as a writer, including writing in all caps, WHICH I GAVE UP. (As she said once, "you will have your fun, David.")

Mrs. Bosley's critique was the first time my craft had been disciplined so I regard it as a major turning point in my life.

When Miss Dubbs retired, O.T. became more than typing but my life as a writer never ceased.

The Institute was private and allowed religious instructions and worship, both Protestant and Catholic. So it was there that the Word entered my life.

More on this later.

Keep hoping.

Harriet's heartaches or Frist's follies

Poem:

O bury me not under indictment.
Let me golf with fat cats. What excitement!

Let me caroused with the rich and well-healed.
And bill the taxpayers for my 13-course meals.

For no problem is insummountable.
As long as no one holds me accountable.

Tis utter agony to go to the Rose Garden.
And with great earnest say "Prez, I beg you pardon!"

Thoughts:

Of course, DeLay, Tom Delay of the House is a crook. I get that. Sen. Bill Frist might be a crook but he just might not be.

What puzzles me is the nomination of Ms Harriet Miers to the U.S. Supreme Court by her ex-client G.W. Bush.

She has made a living defending corporations and numbskulls like Bush. Yet some on the lunatic right hate her for reasons that escape those of us who think rationally.

I was listening to one wingnut who was spinning a tale about how Miers covered up a scandal in the Texas lottery because the guy involved had the goods on Bush's National Guard [lack of] service. Like most conspiracy yarns, it was too complicated to follow.

Anyway, the nub of the right's problem with Miers is abortion. They think she might be wobbly on Roe v Wade. Why? I don't know. But I think they think Bush himself is soft on Roe.

Yet, others on the right, like Pat Robertson, love her. But so does Democratic Senate leader Harry Reid. It is very confusing.

But remember, Bush likes her. He trusts her. That's reason enough to oppose her, isn't it?

Keep hoping.

Leaving home II

Poem:

The oldest looks back
To the old days
The days of one-channel TV
The days of Mantle of Ford
And he smiles

Thoughts:

I'm going to get back to my school days tomorrow. I'll do another post today and the state of the GOP because, let's face it, it's so darn fun to watch it fall apart.

But I received an email from brother John Richard who notes two things. First, I misspelled the name of James Arness, star of TV's "Gunsmoke." I regret the error.

John's second observation was that before I went to school, everyone (except my two younger brothers, 4 and 2?) talked about it with me. John has an elephantine memory of growing up so he is correct. I just don't have a clear memory of it.

Why? I don't know. I can only say that after I came to Wichita, my memories became clearer. Again, why?

I was loved at home, to be quite sure, but I think I was passive, except when I got angry. The reason for my passivity was my poor communication skills. As I learned to speak and type, I could assert my personality more.

Interesting and yet I do remember a lot before I left home. So that can't be right.

Probably, they told me over and over and I just couldn't grasp it.

Could you?

Keep hoping.

I'm back

The singer returned with the autumn mist
He sang, laughed, hugged and kissed

"Fair lad, where have you been?
True love, what have you seen?"

"I saw you in every flower
I saw you every second, every hour!"

"Fair lad, tell me, will you go again?
True love, tell me, will you bring me pain?"

"Ere I do that, I would lay down my soul
Ere I do that, I would pay you any toll"

The singer returned with the autumn mist
He sang, laughed, hugged and kissed