Susan C. Pesznecker, M.A. in Writing

It's true: after two years of hard work, I've finished my Masters degree in nonfiction writing!

Commencement was today-- June 16, 2007--at Portland's Rose Garden Arena. Almost 2000 students took part, and the Arena was almost completely filled.

Here are Erin and I getting ready in the morning:

Here are Bill and I outside the house at about 8:15 am, getting ready to leave:

And here's the kids.... (l-r: Erin Rebecca)

Inside the Arena:

After the Event:

Presents! Lots of goodies, including an ivory salmon necklace from Bill, a beautiful basket with hand-written quotes from Erin, a beautiful blue moonstone ring from Scott, and a hanging planter filled with stonecrop (note: Grey School "Stones Lodge inside joke") from Rebecca.

Dinner at the outback Steak House. Here we are, making a toast:

And here we are, having trouble making it to the car.

A lovely day! It's been quite a journey:

• Sunset High School: 1972
• Linfield School of Nursing, 1975: R.N. (Honors)
• Clackamas Community College, 2003: A.A. (English; Honors)
• Portland State University, 2005: B.A. (English; Summa Cum Laude)
• Portland State University, 2007; M.A. (Writing; Phi Kappa Phi national scholastic honorary)

Now I can officially sign myself as Susan C. Pesznecker, R.N., M.A.!

An Elegy for Ernie; January 8, 1989- May 2, 2007

Our sweet poodle passed into the poodle Summerlands on May 2, 2007 at about 6:20 pm. He died at home, with the loving help of his vet, Dr. Stemper; one of her helpers, Donna; and yours truly, a.k.a., Mommy. His passing was completely peaceful, and although it comes with much sadness, there is joy in knowing that this was the right time, and that he’s now gone on to something much better.

After a long, joyful, and enthusiastic life, Ernie’s body finally begin to realize its age. Plagued by failing vision and hearing and by increasingly severe arthritis, we all knew that it was time for him to take the grand vacation. Right up until the end, he tried bravely to enjoy his life, playing and wagging his tail a little bit every day and being cheerful and good natured. In the week before his death, I was able to spend a lot of quality time with him, curled up on the couch and just hanging out together.

Ernie was a good dog. He wagged politely at company, loved to be outside with me in the garden, and kept the yard cat-free.

Ernie was a devoted family member. He always knew when to expect the kids or Bill or I home from work, and would wait happily for us to arrive. On his last night—May 1—he was at the top of the stairs waiting for Bill when he arrived home.

Ernie was handsome. He was always strong and slender. As a young dog, he had sleek, bluish-black glossy wool and clear eyes. As he aged, his wool took on more of a charcoal tinge and grew thin, and his eyes clouded with cataracts. Toward the end, he lost the hair off of his ears and most of the hair from his back. Thanks to his arthritic back, he began to resemble a small black camel (thankfully, his discomfort was controlled with medication). To us, he was still gorgeous.


Ernie was an athlete. In his prime, he ran so fast that only a black streak remained behind. He could jump high enough to have his choice of anything on the kitchen counter.

Ernie was a nurse. When anyone in the house was sick, had surgery, etc., he would curl up next to them and rest quietly, as if lending comfort. When I went through years of near-deafness after my ear surgeries, he somehow understood and made himself into a hearing ear” dog, coming to the back of the house to get me whenever the phone or doorbell rang or a timer went off.

Ernie was very brave. Once when we were camping, he treed a bear that had come up behind Erin. He may have saved her life. On another instance, he shredded the hand of someone he believed was attempting to break into the house. (It turned out to be an unannounced contractor, but he was a good sport about it, after we paid the emergency room fees to have his hand and arm sewed up!)


Ernie was my devoted companion. With the exception of my family and a few friends, there aren’t many people I’ve known as long as Ernie. We saw each other almost every day—with only a few breaks—for more than 18 years. He slept in his little dog bed in a corner of my room every night. I’ve been in school for the last five years; in the evenings, when I studied, Ernie would settle into his little dog bed and keep me company in my home office. (This got even toastier after Bill bought me a small electric “fireplace” for the office—Ernie adored it.)

I can’t even begin to tell you how much I will miss this dear little animal. It is incredible, the bond that can form between human and dog. It’s been not quite 24 hours since he died, and the house feels soulfully empty. I know that the mourning will lessen with time, but right now, I’m just plain sad. Still, I know it was the right time to help Ernie cross over, and Ernie’s beloved doctor agreed. It’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, and yet I am glad that we could do this final thing for him. As he died, there were three of us there, talking gently and stroking him, and telling him what a good dog he was. He didn’t struggle—simply lay peacefully there in his little bed and slipped away.


Ernie died on a full Moon day and one of storms: thunder, lightening, rain, and hail. Right around the time of his death, the sun came out. Shortly after, a glorious rainbow filled the sky above Milwaukie.

Ernest, you were such a good dog. I love you….Thank you for making my life so full.

Zub zub, Ernest.



As a special tribute to a wonderful poodle, see a rerun of his “Flying Dog piece, below.

Dogs Who Fly (and the people who love them)

This morning, in those bleary moments of first-wake, sounds of the sleepy neighborhood seeping through the bedroom window, it suddenly occurred to me that Ernie had once again resumed efforts at learning to fly.

Ernie’s attempts at flight go way back. As a pup, he once launched himself from our 12-foot backyard deck, managing several seconds of flight before hitting the ground, unscathed.

He likewise made practice jumps from furniture, stairs, the front porch, and even from people’s arms, each time seeking the exhilaration of foiling gravity and soaring into the sky. It’s a noble calling, and one that many have pursued, both as hobby and avocation. The lore* of Poodle Flight is strong—some simply can’t escape its pull.

*For example, see: Collins, Roland, photographs by W. Suschitzky, The Flying Poodle (London: Harvill Press, undated, probably 1950's; might be pre-war), approx. 32 pp. Poodle named Mandy who talks to goldfish, misses Christina, a kitten friend. Or, the 'flying poodles' scene in UHF. A persistent Hollywood rumor suggests that the flying monkeys of The Wizard of Oz were almost replaced with poodles in the film version. Also, for historical completeness, don't neglect the stories of Snoopy and his Sopwith Camel, which have given inspiration and impetus to dog-fliers everywhere.

But as we know, gravity inevitably wins, and for a while Ernie seemed to internalize this lesson and turn back to earthly pastimes, keeping all four feet securely on the ground. This was especially true in the last year or two, as his eyesight failed and the infirmities of age began to settle in.

Things changed a couple of weeks ago. One night after I’d come home from school, Ernie followed me down the front porch, stopped midway, and then suddenly gathered up and launched himself into the black night. The landing didn’t go well. He crashed on the concrete walkway three feet below, limping and yelping with lip bloodied. The next morning he was good as new, but the incident made me wonder whether he’d finally give up and turn in his wings.

But a couple of days later, he tried again—this time launching himself off the corner of the bed. Alas, he hit the wall. The bedroom wall. And then sort of slid to the floor as if in one of those Road Runner and Wile E. Coyote cartoons.

He’s been quiet since, rethinking the situation. It’s a hard thing to readjust one’s dreams in the face of reality. But given his advanced age (going on 18) and poor eyesight, it may be time to leave the pursuit of flight to the younger poodles. That doesn’t mean he won’t still dream about it. Yesterday I caught him deep in a doggie dream that had him whining softly, all four paws stirring the air and his tail ruddering behind, no doubt steering him through the clouds.

I'm still here....

Are you all passed out now, seeing me post?

WAKE UP!

There.

Truly, I look forward to the time when I once again have a nice, normally busy life. The last five years have been anything but. Thought I'd try to catch up, anyhoo (yes, I meant to write "hoo").

So, the last time I wrote a real post was almost two months ago. Yikes.

Let's start with Mom. I get over to see her every couple of weeks. She and Joe have settled into a reasonable routine. They have a nice woman (from one of the local caregiver agencies) who comes over every day for about 4 hours to help Mom shower, dress, and just hang out. her name is Maria and Mom and Joe seem to love her, which is great. As for Mom, last time I was over I was surprised at how much 'brighter' she seemed. Her walking is improving, although she still needs a great deal of assistance. For the most part, she mostly only walks when a therapist is helping her; Joe and Maria help her a bit, but worry about her falling. Not much change with her right arm/hand, or her speech. The physical therapist comes a couple of times each week. The speech therapists gave up because (a) Mom wasn't making any progress, and (b) Mom was not cooperative. Ahem.

I'm going over there next week-- will report then.

Latest very cool finding: LibraryThing. Catalog your books online. The first 100 entries are completely free-- after that there's a $25 lifetime fee. Check it out.

Gargoyles is out, and doing well. At right is a picture taken from Erin, Bill's and my visit to our local Barnes & Noble, where we found it on the shelves.

Oops, wrong book. Below is the real book. Ahem. And go here to see my Library of Congress listing, which is the coolest part of the whole thing.

On March 10, I was invited to attend a blessings ceremony in honor of the fiftieth anniversary of Celilo Falls. The invitation came round-about from the Celilo essay I published a year ago. It was an amazing day-- sunny and warm. Bill came, too. Native American Elders from all of the Columbia plateau tribes led us in procession to a speaking area at the water's edge. Each tribe spoke, and led blessings. It was incredibly moving, and even more so to sit next to what was once a roaring waterfall and find it now a placid piece of lake. A salmon and frybread reception took place after the event. Yum!






School is very busy. Last term I taught a creative nonfiction class, which was a lot of fun. I had 20 students and they all worked really hard. This term I have a class of 38 (gulp) students in literary fiction. A little trickier, and lots more grading, but going fine, too.

Latest films seen (over the past 2-3 months; gotta love Netflix. I tend to watch these 15 minutes at a time, when eating, or drying my hair, etc.):

Eragon: Pretty to watch, standard heroic quest plot; definitely weak when compared to any similar films, but fun to watch. Loved the dragon. (2.5 out of 5 stars)

United 93: WATCH THIS FILM. Absolutely incredible. I can't do it justice with even a mini-review. Just go rent it. Now. (5+++ stars)

The Departed: Best picture winner and director this year, and I see why. Dark, a little artsy, violent, and what a cast! (5 stars)

Shut Up & Sing: Dixie Chicks retrospective/documentary. The filmmakers have set up a great little piece that shows beautifully how everything the Chicks said was right, while everything Bush and Bush supporters said was, well... you know. (4 stars)

Little Miss Sunshine: Weird, funny, great acting. One of the strangest ensemble casts you'll ever see. (4 stars)

The Devil Wears Prada: Meryl Streep is my hero! Nothing hugely special about this film, but it was a fun chick flick. (3 stars, 5 for Meryl)

Batman Begins: Cool! Nice creation of the "how did Batman get started" thing. Great sets. Love the Newsies boy. (4 stars)

Jesus Camp: TERRIFYING. Another one that I'm asking you to rent and watch. The Army of Jesus is being trained up, as we speak. (5 stars)

Quinceñera: Great film, set in east LA, about a young Hispanic girl approaching her 15th birthday, which is the time for the big coming of age celebration/pageant/party known as the
Quinceñera (which is pretty interesting in itself). The fact that she happens to be pregant and is thrown out of the house by her preacher father adds some, um.... conflict to the plot. (4 stars)

Thank You for Smoking: A filmic lampoon of both the cigarette and lobbyist industries. Aaron Eckhart (dazzling in the older film, In the Company of Men-- another must-see) was chilling in this, playing the lobbyist-conman to the hilt. (4 stars)

New TV addiction (which is rare, for me): The Riches. An awesome show-- Monday nights on FX. I figured that with my possible Eastern European "gypsy" heritage, a show about Irish Travellers would have to be pretty interesting. This is a darkly comedic drama in which a family of Travellers assume the identities of a very rich (and very dead) upper class couple, while simultaneously being pursued by rogue elements from their own Traveller's band. The writing and acting are incredible.

I'm also still working as coordinator of the graduate writing association-- WEGO. Look here for our blog. We just finished a "Call for Papers" and now we're ramping up for our springtime reading. We're in the process of hiring next year's coordinator

My knee is better. I finally had to have a big honking cortisone shot into it, which supposedly interrupted the inflammatory cycle. I think it worked, because it's almost pain-free now.

Spring break at the end of March was quiet. I spent lots of it working on my thesis and Bill and I managed a "Gorge Day." Below are a couple of images looking across to Cape Horn.



And here are a couple of shots showing the latest progress on reopening the tunnel at Oneonta Gorge.



It had been warm and rainy for the last week-- the falls were HUGE. Horsetail Falls was so monstrous that it was splashing water all over the road. You literally would have been killed if you went swimming that day. I got some good photos, although it was so misty, my camera lens kept getting all wet and soaked.


I am in final grad school mode. I'm taking 10 credits this term: a 4C class on Romanticism (my last requirement for my MA in English) and a 4C master class with the writer Charles D'Ambrosio, plus my 1C teaching College Comp class and a 1C thesis credit.

My thesis is due next Wednesday, April 15. The oral defense is set for May 10. AUGH! No stress here....

My current book-- Writing Down the Moon-- is going well. I'm using the first half for my thesis. The whole manuscript is due to Llewellyn by June 30, which'll be just before I go to Skidmore (see below).

GRADUATION is June 16. I plan to be in the ceremony, and I'm hoping a few of the local family members will be able to come down (hint! hint!).

I had some really awesome news a month or so ago. I am one of 9 college students nationwide to win a full scholarship to the New York Summer Writer's Workshop at Skidmore College. It's the first two weeks in July-- I cannot wait! I'll be studying creative nonfiction writing with some of the biggest names in the craft. It'll be like a post graduation vacation. Lots of work, too. I hope to take the weekend in the middle to go into New York City!

The Grey School is busy, as always. Lots to do there during the summer-- for now, my student work and any writing of new classes have been set aside while mundane school occupies my time.

And, there's Ernie. He's thin, and achy, and old. Very old. He's lost all of the hair from his ears.


His doctor was called away this week with her own family emergency, but next week, when she's back, she will be paying us a house call, and the wee dog will go on vacation. It's time. For now, we hug him a lot, and give him lots of good food, and use the SpotBot on the occasional indiscretions. We're essentially doing dog hospice care. It's going to be hard to lose him, but it is time. He's still pretty dang cute, though.

From The Onion

Area Pagan Dreading Big Family Vernal Equinox Celebration

March 12, 2007 | Issue 43•11

MEDFORD, OR—Despite evidence that the planets are aligned in his favor, local pagan Jeff Birch, 27, said Monday that he would "rather have a peaceful weekend at home" than attend his family's Vernal Equinox celebration on March 21.

"I realize it's supposed to be a festive time of conception and new growth in the womb of Mother Earth and all," Birch said. "But I just know that within an hour of arriving, things will get so bad that I'll be reverting to my 12-year-old self, hiding in the rec room downstairs, wearing my Iroquois false face mask and fingering my runes for comfort. It's not worth it."

Enlarge Image

The Birches try to have a "nice, sacrificial meal."

"Anyway, wasn't I just back home for Mabon?" Birch added.

Most pagans look forward to marking the Vernal Equinox, when the hours of sunlight equal the hours of darkness. Yet for some, like Birch, this sacred springtime celebration of balance and harmony means contending with family infighting and undue stress.

"Talking to Mom the other day, it was the same old manipulative 'You're coming home, right?'" said Birch, referring to a recent phone conversation with his mother, Freyja Birch. "If I hesitate for even a second, she piles on the guilt—like how this may be the last year Nana Hippolyta can perform the garden fertility ritual, or that without my masculine energy, the yin-and-yang balance will be thrown off—until I finally give in."

"But I don't want to have to use up my vacation time and travel almost 300 miles to Portland just to listen to Grandma Moon Odin Rhiannon complain during the sunrise ritual that Mom's not putting enough rose petals in the cauldron or is letting the bonfire get too low," Birch continued. "That will just set Mom off bitching at Grandma for constantly trying to undermine her spiritual relationship with the Pagan Goddess of Dawn and then no one will speak to each other until nightfall."

Birch said he has little sympathy for his perfectionist mother, who reportedly tries to do too much and invites too many people. He says she is known to spend countless hours weaving thistle wreaths and sun-drying her own currants for hot cross buns in preparation for the Equinox. "It's hard to feel sorry for her when things don't go exactly according to her elaborate, impossible plans," Birch said. "And she knows better than to invite Aunt Isolde, who always has too much mulled mead and starts moaning about the lack of a good high priest in her life."

Besides the usual maiden-mother-crone conflicts, the strained relationship between Birch's sister, Pythia, who recently converted to Wicca, and his father, a devout Dionysian, is another source of tension, according to Birch. "Last year, Pythia brought her covenmate home, and Dad's still having a hard time with it," Birch said. "It's obvious that he doesn't approve of her lifestyle. He's always asking her why doesn't she find a nice warlock to settle down with, or telling her maybe what she really needs is a good old-fashioned bacchanalia. Are other pagan families like this?"

Pythia isn't the first family member to stray from the fold. Fifteen years ago, Birch's uncle Jack married a Presbyterian and has raised two children in the faith. While he is still included in family celebrations, his eccentric monotheism is the source of much awkwardness, Birch said. Two years ago, the black-sheep uncle almost didn't get invited back.

"Having a celestial deity worshipper in our home angered the Goddess Eostre and she punished us with an April freeze," Birch said. "My mom was barely able to salvage her herb garden."

Of all the unpleasant experiences, however, Birch said he dreads the "inevitable" questions about his love life most. "My folks can't wrap their heads around the idea that a man in his late twenties isn't handfasted yet and is okay with it," Birch said. "There's always some new Church of the Sacred Pentacle virgin or a cute single witch from the last Full Moon ritual who they just have to set me up with."

While he treasures happy memories of Vernal Equinoxes from his childhood, Birch said he comes away from today's holidays a few pounds heavier from the rich holiday food, several hundred dollars in debt from buying gifts "that will probably just get returned or regifted at Samhain anyway," and reeling from a fresh family conflict bound to last for months or years.

"I just have to learn how to say no," Birch said. "Maybe I'll skip Beltane this year. I want to lose some weight and work on my six-pack before Summer Solstice."

Hi everyone. I haven't blogged much lately, but one thing I can and will do with my blog is to do my part in spreading horrors such as this. I've loathed Ann Coulter for a long time-- now I'm gratified that other people can come to share my revulsion. This story is from the AP wire.

-----

From the weekend: Uproar over Coulter

Not many stories from the weekend are getting more attention than the offensive slur that conservative commentator Ann Coulter aimed at Democratic presidential candidate John Edwards.

Candidates from both major parties and bloggers of all political persuasions are condemning Coulter and her choice of words. (File photo of Coulter by Jim Cooper of the AP.)

In case you're just catching up on this, here's what Coulter said at the annual Conservative Political Action Conference:

"I was going to have a few comments on the other Democratic presidential candidate John Edwards, but it turns out you have to go into rehab if you use the word 'faggot,' so I -- so kind of an impasse, can't really talk about Edwards."

She later told The New York Times that "c'mon, it was a joke. I would never insult gays by suggesting that they are like John Edwards. That would be mean."

Among the reactions:

• "Ann Coulter brought hate speech to a new low," said the Edwards campaign, which launched a "Coulter cash" fund-raising effort "to fight back against the politics of bigotry."

• "The comments were completely inappropriate and there should be no place for such name-calling in political debate," said Republican presidential candidate and former New York City mayor Rudy Giuliani.

• "When Coulter employed the f-word to abuse a candidate, she made herself radioactive because the word is a simply invitation to hate. It was repulsive," wrote Hugh Hewitt at the conservative Townhall.com Blog. "I cannot imagine Coulter being invited to any panel or television appearance on which I would want to appear. Colleges and universities must also stop inviting her to appear as a representative of the conservative movement in America. She is not."

• "She's a bully, has been for years, and is egged-on in her bullydom because her shtick appeals to a certain element in American conservatism," said Nancy Scola at the liberal MyDD.

• "Bottom line: Coulter's remark was indefensible," wrote conservative Ed Morrissey at Captain's Quarters. "She had the right to say it, but that doesn't make her right for saying it, and she deserves every bit of criticism she's getting."

Coulter does have a defender or two:

• "So the liberals are upset with Ann -- how come I could care less? I will tell you in a few words. Because they take the truth and twist it and lie," wrote conservative Layla Gonzalez at The HILL Chronicles.

• "She's a bomb-thrower and a loose cannon, but I'm inclusive enough, I believe in diversity enough, that I can accept her for who and what she is and value her uniqueness and her contribution to our political world," said Jay Tea at the conservative Wizbang. "I just wouldn't want to EVER see her with any kind of real power."

Whew-- catching up!

I have been a bad, bad blogger. Mea culpa. Or mea blogga. Or whatever.

Let's see-- the last time I really wrote was on Jan. 16. We'd had a glorious snow day-- 5-6" of snow, ultimately, that managed to shut Portland down for a couple of days. Great fun while it lasted.

On Jan. 29, I came home from school to find a cardboard box on the porch.

I opened it to find....


My book! Gargoyles! The publisher sent me 50 advance copies-- I guess for sending out to reviewers, etc. The book wasn't due for official release until Feb. 15, so this was quite a surprise! I have to admit, it's pretty cool to actually hold in your hands a book that you wrote.

Feb. 3-- I celebrated Imbolc with a couple of Grey School friends. We did a very simple firelighting ceremony and then made Brighid's crosses. Go here to see photos. The crosses came out really nice.

Feb. 15-- Gargoyles officially hit the shelves. Bill and I actually went downtown to Powells to see if we could find it on the shelves. And we did! Bill took pictures of me pointing to the book-- I'd post them here, but they're still stuck on his camera. (Soon....)

And yes, I will make royalties from book sales, so buy copies for your friends, please. (My publicist tells me that, as an author, I must become comfortable with shameless self promotion.)

School is fine. Busy. I'm teaching a class in creative nonfiction, which is going well. And trying to get my second book written-- it must be finished by mid-April. I'm on schedule to finish my first MA (writing) this spring, and the second MA (English lit) next fall. Keep fingers tightly crossed. Magickal efforts also appreciated.

I'm also still working as coordinator of the graduate writing association-- WEGO. Look here to see the blog/listings I'm responsible for. Lots of good stuff there, if you're a writer-- feel free to grab onto anything that looks interesting.

I'm also trying to keep track of Mom. She's hit a plateau, recovery-wise, and Joe and I are trying to puzzle out what would be the best next step. She is home with Joe right now. I send out an every-so-often email update about her. If you want to be on the list, email me at 7dotmoon@teleport.com.

The picture at the top was taken a week ago as Bill and I drove home from a visit to Mom; the picture is from the high desert, just southeast of Maupin, about 15 minutes before sunset. It was gorgeous.

My knee is recovering slowly. I'm still going to PT every week or so. Funny how recovery slows down as you get a little older. *frown*

Wish I had something more exciting to say, but that's about it for now.

Harry Potter has, um.... grown up!

Enjoy these images of Dan Radcliffe, opening in a London stage production of Equus. Yes, as you've probably heard, he appears in the buff. But his acting, for the record, is getting rave reviews. More info (and images) at the Leaky Cauldron site.

Cause it's Christmas, all over.... again!

Here, albeit a little late, is a final holiday tribute.... This time to "Yule #3," which was held on Jan. 4, with Katie, Scott, Erin, Rebecca, John, Bill, and I, in various combinations. Honest, I can non longer remember who was here, or when.

Here's the kids in Seatlle, before they came south. Rock star picture.



Here's the tree, ready for its third round of gifts.



Uh, I don't know how to caption this.


Or this.


Katie and John.



Working on the latest Gammie gift.


John, knitting?



New scarves!



The boys....


Mr. Horse!



Valbo and the kids....


Still life, bathroom, c. 2007. Note cold medicine, aspirin, and hand sanitizer. Yes, everyone was sick.



The boys again.


Rock star family. (Even the poodle.... Rebecca is taking the photo.)



And an early dust of snow....



Finally-- the holidays are over.... It was fun while it lasted!