Video: Notre Dame--Get Fired Up for the Season

Thanks to Dave for passing this along. Twenty minutes to wake up the echoes.....

http://mfile.akamai.com/26783/wmv/cstvcbs.download.akamai.com/8108/open/nd/07-08/video/m-footbl/08aug/083007_m-footbl_primer_hi.asx

"To My Yugoslavian In-Laws" by Debra Gingerich

If we could speak,
I would tell you that we have
trees here too, and rivers.
I know how to hammer
a nail. Transatlantic phone calls
are expensive, even for us
with our two cars, dishwasher
and American salaries. That he
will not get lazy or forget
about the ways he needed to make money
during the war, the merchandise
exchanged in dark corners of Turkey.
He is still thankful for good health.
He passes on every kiss
you tell him to give me.
I would admit that he misses
the stone beaches of the Adriatic,
he accepts the Atlantic's murky water
as part of the compromise. He thinks
Lancaster's streets are too vacant
at night and there is no place
to ride a bike. Also, that I wouldn't take
your name and will never
believe the wine in the cup
turns to blood. That he and I can't
agree on a slipcover for the couch.
That there is no perfect place
for anyone.

As heard today on the Writer's Almanac. Visit the link, hear and purchase the poem here: http://writersalmanac.publicradio.org/

Writerly Quote of the Day

"I think we ought to read only the kind of books that wound and stab us. If the book we're reading doesn't wake us up with a blow on the head, what are we reading it for? So that it will make us happy? Good Lord, we would be happy precisely if we had no books." ----Kafka

Health and Beyond

The strep test returned negative. The virus remains unidentified. It was July 21st when I finally measured my 38.5 degree C / 101 degree F temperature. About two nights ago I actually slept through the night in my own bed with only a few coughing fits. No one else caught my bug, which is a good thing, but this adds to the mystery of the pesky virus. I would rest easier if I could put a name on the infection. Today back in the US: I will dare to play to tennis. I had dreamed of tennis in the Carpathian valley, but didn't get to lace up my tennies even once.

At Martin's grocery store today I rode the wave of local celebrity. I thought people were glancing my way and growing charged by my electric presence. Until checkers, stock guys, and shoppers started a litany of "Hey, Coach," and "Hello, Digger." We got our carts. "I enjoyed your book, Coach." In the normal flow of commerce we headed toward the bakery and deli section. Near the hot soup buffet he gestured me ahead of him. I'll admit, I had to come home and google him to be sure of his fame: Digger Phelps, former Notre Dame basketball coach being a key aspect of his pedigree. He even has his own Wikipedia page. I love South Bend. I love that coaches move here to mold young athletes and then stay on in the community.

Last night we got another wave of local cool. Squirm Orchestra provided live music to accompany a series of short films from European stop-motion masters. The event was part of the Vickers Theatre Sound of Silents Film Festival. A friend of ours was in the band and let us know of the event. After the show and a few rounds of beer and reubens at Nelson's Pub, we joined the band and groupies for a swim in our skivvies at a pool in a primordial forest. Unplanned. Hot tubs, physics conversations between groupies, and talk of touring adventures in New York and Detroit. Why don't we swim in a stranger's pool at midnight more often?