Tag Archives: life

Magic Words – essay

Magic Words

Being raised as I was, there were three phrases or “Magic Words” that were consistently spoken and required – “Please”, “Thank you”, and “Excuse me”.

When I had children of my own, I taught them the same lessons I had been taught when I was growing up – both in our home and outside our home.

Over time, I’ve come to realize that what I came to believe was common courtesy is, often, not so common.  Nevertheless, the lessons I was taught about the “Magic Words” have persisted.

To this day, I hear my Mother’s and Father’s voice whenever I speak or write those words; and, I continue to wonder why they’ve, often, become so uncommon in life and in work.

Thanks, Mom and Dad, for teaching me one of many important, simple lessons.

Your Loving and Devoted Daughter,

~ Jessan

Thank You ~ many languages

Thank You ~ many languages

The Cambridge Poem

T H E  C A M B R I D G E  P O E M ~ #poetry

 

Commencement Address – Class of 1990 – The Cambridge School, Weston, MA

 

Give your regards when you go to the reunion and at the dinner,

say that you were thinking about them     They’ll, eventually, recall

your name; you went to the movies with that one, felt the weight

of their life when they sat next to you – they never said a word

 

All of you are rising friends: one used to play the piano, one once

wrote a play, one even seemed awakened enough to photograph the

fields as the unencumbered with tutored minds and unrehearsed passions

 

Meet them at the door, they’ve brought the souvenirs of time; a seashell

from the Pacific, the nose of a marble saint, and from the field

a spent casing divulged from the flower bed

 

Face a rising world bearing its gifts in its hands, kiss your incidental

dreams – rise, move away, take others

 

Give your regards to the well­-protected; you knew them, you went

to school together     There’s something to bury when you begin

to move away     When you are ready and rich in your wish for the

world, you have a new race to start

 

From the heart of this darkened quadrangle, I hear the library

hum, an immense chorus of writers murmur inside their books along

the unlit, alphabetical shelves; each one stitched into their

own private coat, (you will have to write your own) together forming

a continuous, enormous breath of language

 

I picture a figure in the act of reading, shoes on the desk, head tilted

into the wind, a person in two worlds, holding the nape of their neck

as another’s life saturates the page; or, in the middle of a thesis,

moving from paragraph to verse, touring endless rooms (you will have to  write your own)

 

I hear the voice of my mother and father reading and inside their

voices lie other, distant sounds

 

 

I see us reading ourselves away from ourselves, straining in circles of

light to find more light until the line of words becomes a trail

that we follow across a page and you will have to listen hard to

hear the voices going away (and, you will have to write your own).

 

 

© 1990 Jessan Dunn (DeCredico) Otis

All We Are Are Our Stories

All We Are Are Our Stories

When you look at a person,...

I’ve been told that the first human sound I ever heard was, most likely, laughter; as my mother looked over the drape, surrounded by a bevy of student nurses, and asked, “Over hand or feather stitch?” as Dr. Vorsick repaired her episiotomy.

This is where my story began.  Since then, looking back, there’s no way I could have predicted nor anticipated the journey from then to now – just as well, I suspect.

All posts are my own, unless I invite someone to share their stories – with the exception, of course, of “Comments”.  All credit where credit is due will be made.

There is only one primary and permanent guideline:  play nice with the other children.  This blog is open to all and any comments, opinions and points of view.  However, if what you write is inflammatory, bigoted, narrow-minded and/or hateful, I will delete it.

That rather unpleasant matter aside, I look forward to telling stories, sharing stories, learning and listening as we all journey through this thing called Life.

Welcome; and, what say you, please?

~ Jessan