Inside the small convenience store, red wooden booths and round wooden tables with black chairs served as a gathering place for locals having their coffee, pop, or other snacks.  Old farmers with their kids and grand-kids sat around the table. And best of all, I sat down at a table and captured the memory of one old-timer who remembered razing the tavern (one of the town’s earliest landmarks—formerly the Northwestern Hotel) in 1946. His buddy at the table actually worked for my grandfather.  Sure, they remember the old days when pay was $1 an hour for construction or for baling hay. Surrounding farmers would get together and help each other with the labor. Sometimes you would receive hay as payment for your work.

Leaving Leigh, we drove past the fields of dark soil planted in corn. It was too early in the season to see any significant growth, but much of the landscape was verdant with grass pastures, trees and shrubs, and field windbreaks. We looked at the scenic beauty of brown and green hills and valleys on our drive from Leigh.  We traveled a few miles west and stopped at a memorial that grasped our attention. 

Leigh, Nebraska

Addie Schmitz in Madison, Nebraska

 Come visit me and meet other Colorado writers this Wednesday evening, September 16, 6:30 to 8:00 p.m. at Local Editions, 2929 17th Ave. #110, in Longmont. I will be discussing and signing my book, Butterflies, Scarabs and Secrets: The Life and Artwork of Clayton Blair Dougherty. 

If you missed seeing the unusual original assemblage artworks from the book that were featured at the Muse Art Gallery in Longmont last year, I will have some of those pieces from the exhibit for you to view.

Local Editions, a unique boutique bookshop, is carrying my book, together with selected publications of other Colorado authors. The shop also added a special section of books for children written by Colorado authors. It’s a great time to think about Christmas gift book selecting.

Contact: Betty LaVelle
vivant.inc@aol.com
(see www.facebook.com/BettyLaVelle.author)
Local Editions:  303-746-7662

Have we really lived unless there is passion in our lives?  Passion is the source of our finest moments. It is more than just enthusiasm or excitement; it is energy and ambition put into action with our heart, body, and soul. It may be the source of love, the ecstasy of grief, the role of inspiration. 
 
When we are passionate, we feel free from external constraints and feel free to invest time and energy into our lives.  Work is no longer work, but play. When we speak and act with passion, there is both an internal and external magnetism.  Sometimes we find our passion but do not follow it—or sometimes we lose it and try to reclaim it as I write in my poem “Resurrection.” 

I admire many people. Their magnetic energy draws me to them, and I am compelled to draw from their exuding of energy, the intensity of their endeavors, their joie de vivre. They follow their heart. Several people in my lifetime have made an impact on me. There is my friend Ralph, the criminal trial lawyer.  I could forever just sit and listen to his tales of trial preparation, the recap of court dialogue and cross-examination, and the exciting behind-the-scenes events that no one else gets to hear. He is exhilarated when he relays the story of his well-prepared case.  I am star stricken listening to him.

And my friend, the pastor, whom I call Father George. He tells me that his passions are “teaching, Jesus, learning…”  Father George’s passions go beyond teaching.  He is an example of doing. His passion is “being there.” Being there at the bedside of your neighbor at 2 a.m. when you let him know she is dying.  Being there with a truck to load up furniture you need to haul away. Being there with his freshly-baked juicy peach pie for you because he believes that the ultra-flaky crust and aroma of juicy peaches will surely lead you to Jesus.

Passion lies in all of us, just waiting to be claimed and followed. I asked my friend, Meg Thompson, a kind and thoughtful person to think about her passion.  Meg is a doer and follows her heart.  Meg replies: “Now about my passion.  Hmm.  Your question made me ponder on my life since I couldn't immediately think of my passion.  I believe music would be my passion.  I had a diversion loving bicycling as much as music and now it is music…I'll ponder on how my life is affected by music.”  Meg has a warm, beautiful voice with a positive affinity for singing. Her enthusiasm radiates, her passion captivates.

One would think that a Colorado Music Hall of Fame inductee would claim songwriting as his passion. However, with a voice as sweet as an angel https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZRyjHRdR2Ko, rock singer and songwriter Rick Roberts claims baseball as his passion. You can read his blog here—“I Love Baseball.”  Rick has boundless energy, enthusiasm, and the joie de vivre so attractive and compelling.  He did not let a horrendous injury several years ago keep him grounded. Rick went on to extend his writing as an author of Song Stories and Other Left-Handed Recollections and is finishing writing his second book.

Passion is what makes life interesting.  How do you define your passion?  Let me know.

  

“I would rather die of passion than of boredom.”  
                                                                        –Vincent van Gogh
                                                                                       

I have a passion for something that not all too many folks perceive as a particularly likely target for such a thing. I love baseball. When I listen to people describing the sport, I hear terms ranging from pastoral, relaxing, and prosaic from those who are fond of the game, to words like tedious, snail-paced or plodding from the ones who are less taken by its charms. Usually, both groups are just finding polite ways of saying it's boring. I disagree. Even though baseball doesn't offer the non-stop motion of basketball, or the sixty minutes of barely controlled violence of football, it can nevertheless be equally stimulating. And I mean no disrespect to those other sports. Believe me, I am very fond of them, too.

There is a difference though. Baseball requires a lot more mental effort. It is arguably an on field version of a chess match. And while I know that not many people would call a chess game "exciting," it still provides a great amount of dramatic tension. To a rabid fan, which I freely admit to being, the strategy involved with the field game (baseball) changes with every pitch, just as it does with every move in the board game (chess). And it all carries an abundance of tension. 

There's barely enough time between pitches to consider all the relevant pieces of the puzzle. You have to tally up the equation of the score, the ball and strike count, any or how many men are on base (and which base), how many outs, what inning you're in, the particular strengths and weaknesses of the batter, is the man on base fast, and the list goes on. And as I said, the equation changes with every pitch. And still, for the most part, they conduct the affair in an elegant and stately manner.

It's been said more than once that baseball is a team sport consisting entirely of one on one confrontations. But as many a wealthy owner has discovered, assembling a team made up of the very best player at every position does not always lead to winning. Team chemistry is a major factor in the ultimate success of any team. And to watch a well-trained and effective team function in the field and make seemingly impossible plays is much like watching a well-oiled machine in action. Admittedly, these pleasures are more enjoyable when the game being watched is a good contest, rather than a one sided blowout. But I think that's the same in any sport.

 Keep in mind that all this deeper analysis is not mandatory. For those who enjoy the leisure of spending an afternoon or an evening with a game that will unfold as slowly or as quickly as it chooses rather than paying allegiance to a clock with a specified length of time to get the job done, nothing more is necessary. But for those who perceive the game as an endless bore, there may be more to it than you have figured out yet.


Rick Roberts is a musician, singer, author, and songwriter.  His songs, including “You are the Woman,” topped the music charts when he was the lead singer of the band Firefall.   http://rickrobertsmusic.com/




If basketball is the checkers of the sports world, baseball is a chess match requiring mental energy of a demanding game.

…I used to live here—not in this building, but a few blocks south on University Hill, when I attended summer school at Colorado University. My haunts were Tulagi (a nightclub selling 3.2 beer on University Hill where the Astronauts entertained) and the Sink.
http://www.coloradomagazineonline.com/Music/The_Astronauts_Tulagi%27s/The_Astronauts_Tulagi%27s.htm  

I looked forward to a good time at C.U. I was not disappointed. As a student without transportation, for quite some time I didn’t even know there was a town of Boulder north of the hill. I thought University Hill was it. I have many good memories, but my grades suffered at the time.

…In my book, Butterflies, Scarabs and Secrets, I write about creativity, intent, and meaning-the artist’s statement and interpretation of the art. I comment in my book, “Once art leaves the artist, there is no control over the way a viewer will interpret the work.” The same may be true of poetry—we cannot alter the listener’s intuitive sense. As you hear the poetry, meaning becomes dependent upon your experiences, even though you may know the poet’s intended meaning.

Literary critic E. D. Hirsch said that the author’s intention is the meaning and what it means to you is the work’s significance.  If you wish, I can discuss the intended meanings after you hear my poems.

…I am now researching material and interviewing people to bring forth their memories for a new book I am writing about the emigration of my grandfather from Moravia to Nebraska in the early 1900s. In between research, I write poetry. This evening I will introduce you to five short poems of mine.

If you are at all creative, have experienced deep or unexpected sorrow in your life, or have lost passion for what you are doing and are trying to recover it, perhaps my first two poems “Captive” and “Resurrection” http://www.bettytlavelle.com/poetry.html  will resonate with you.

Many people tell me “I bet it was cathartic writing your book.”

I have to reply, “No, it wasn’t.”  But writing my poems is cathartic to me; their meanings emerge from my heart. You may hear my soul speaking in my first two poems.

Distinctive imaginations exist among all of us. Creativity makes the ordinary distinctive, seeing things in a new way. Multiple meanings, possibilities, experimentation, and childlike freshness may arise to the surface when tapping into the subconscious.

Last month I traveled to a metro Denver high school and discovered Creativity from the Shadows: marginalized kids participating in a presentation that explored childhood disabilities.

The teachers and the program director of this adventure captured my heart. One teacher started crying after her kids made their presentations.  She excused herself from the room.

I had been selected to be a judge on a panel that would evaluate and critique the art/storyboards of disabled students enrolled in grades 9-12. This particular project was part of STEM, an acronym for science, technology, engineering, and math all integrated into a school program based on real-world application. The students consisted of teams of two to five kids working together through storytelling and production of a book to reveal a disability and to incorporate a character with that disability.

The director told the judges beforehand that the students came from trailer parks, from being homeless, and from E.S.L. learning groups—some of the most environmentally, physically, and emotionally challenged kids would be present. Some would be dressed in their best outfits, having picked out a favorite from perhaps three or fewer that they may own. They had worked very hard for this event and were anxious to make a good impression.

Spirited teams represented instances of cerebral palsy, dyslexia, depression, and stuttering. I marveled at their showing exuberance, creativity, and intellect. A judge could question any team member and listen to answers explaining how they interacted and characteristics of the disability. I took the chance to get to know these kids.

The presentation set-ups included tables with a display area for each team’s drawings and research material. Each judge would visit an area then grade the team based on its oral presentation, materials used, effort and the final product, usually a spiral-bound booklet.

I began by visiting a team who chose stuttering as a subject. I selected one young boy, an outgoing leader who appeared eager to tell his story, and asked him, “Why did you choose this subject?”  He said that he has a brother who stutters.

“Does it embarrass you?” I continued.

“Nah, he’s a great kid.” he replied. One paper pinned to their display showed the slow repetition of consonants: th, th, th, the and sh, sh, sh.
                                                     
I visited the next two-member team who chose to write about dyslexia. “Explain to me what you have here,” I requested. “Do either of you have dyslexia?”

“She does,” a beautiful petite Latina girl said, nodding to her partner—a little girl in a pink dress, on the other side of the display.

“Tell me about it,” I said to the little Latina girl.

“Well it’s not being able to finish math problems or sentences completely,” she related. The two girls had put together a beautifully illustrated book showing their relationship—how one could befriend another having a disability.

Next, I approached a group of four cheery students. One girl, smiling ear-to-ear, has a condition called “trichotillomania.” This disorder is an irresistible urge to pull out your hair. The smiling girl was partially bald. She said she doesn’t pull at her hair during meal time—like at the cafeteria—because “it’s too gross.” I asked, “Have you thought of wearing a hat?”

“No, it’s not comfortable,” she replied. This effervescent young person was the team’s leader.  She has been pulling out her hair since she was four years old.

I found a solo presenter, a young man with dark-framed eyeglasses. He was dressed in black and wearing a blue tie. On his display were scattered papers portraying black and dismal colors: one was of a boy sitting on his bed in a bedroom; “there is no one at home to help him,” the young man remarked, mustering up such a quiet, simple, heartrending defense of his project that I had to shift my eyes to the next image. As the mother of an artistic, solo son, I resonated with so much loneliness in one so young. The picture showed a bold circle representing a rug and there was a chest of drawers with a lamp and its cord on top. Dark black streaks were the focal point of his pictures. Some crudely drawn illustrations lay on the display table. There was no finished product—no book. This presenter and a few others in the room brought with them the backdrop of their shaky environments and coping issues.

Sometimes we do not realize the behind-the-scene activities that go on in our society. We are not aware of the school programs that help all of our young citizens. The activities that give kids a chance to shine, to be heard, to be positively noticed even though everything in their lives may seem negative. God bless the educators who are there to give general support, to advance the disabled kids, to give structure and encouragement to their creativity, to offer them bright drawing colors.

I am so privileged to have been selected as a part of their audience, even though it was only for one afternoon. I graded high. I couldn’t help but be buoyed in spirit by the kids’ enthusiasm. Their storyboards tell more than just about the creation of new books. The underlying illustrations, story lines, all whisper silently of the children’s individual situations as treated by family, friends, and society.

Shadows are only shadows before they talk and share.