Author Archives: sara holbrook

About sara holbrook

Poet/Author/Educator

May 21, 2008

A Question of Family

Today I visited a school and at the end of the assemblies the questions were regular, how old are you? how much money do you make? how old are your children now? We are all a lot older than we were a few weeks ago. What I have learned from past surgeries in my life is that scar tissue comes back tougher than the onion skin nature gives us to begin with.

photos by sarah edleman
From left to right, Michael, me, Katie, Tom (Katie’s and Kelly’s dad and my ex-husband) Ro (Tom’s wonderful wife and my dear friend) Darcy (Ro’s daughter and Katie and Kelly’s stepsister and Kelly. I wouldn’t have thought that we needed to be tougher — but that is what we must become in order to support one another.

Gratefully, no one asked me how many grandchildren I have. The six pack is off balance. Now we begin to try and remold our family (again) and grow around the painful gash where darling Stephie used to be. The question I ask myself tonight is: how much longer, how many more days or weeks or months will it be before I can call any one of my family and just say “what’s up?” and not mean, are you still standing? Can you breathe today?

Family is what the universe gives us to teach us how to love, how to share, how to fight, how to make up, how to live, how to rejoice, how to heal, and how to go on. Kelly asked me this morning (when we were checking to make sure we were both breathing) if I could imagine what it would be like to go through something like this alone.

I can’t. We are so blessed.

May 18, 2008

Claire’s Day

Claire’s Day is a reading celebration in Toledo that is held once a year in honor of a 10 year old girl who went to summer camp and never came home. She had a cardiac arrest. I had been signed up to present for at least a year in advance. I went thinking it would either be a very good idea to go or would bury me in another wave of sadness. Turned out to be very good. It is wonderful the vibrant event that the Rubini’s have built in Claire’s memory. http://www.clairesday.org/

Loved talking to the kids — although I must confess, I don’t think it was my best show of all time. I’m struggling with finding enough enthusiasm to breathe, let alone perform. But as usual, the energy comes from the eyes of the kids in the audience and they never fail me.

Two of my cousins, Karen and Debbi, and I are planning a Granny Camp in Tucson this summer. The planning emails are starting to fly back and forth. My own grandmother (who I called Gigi) used to say, “the living take care of the living.” And so we do, weaving the future out of frayed heart strings.

May 17, 2008

Why are you teaching us to write poetry?

Not a smart mouth, not unkind. Just a question from a third grader today at R.C. Waters Elementary in Oak Harbor, OH.

The morning assemblies were actually a comfort — it was good to be with happy children without parentheses of pain about their eyes — like stepping from a darkened theater into the sun, it required some adjustment. Why was I there teaching them to write poetry?

Yesterday I spent much of the afternoon putting in a new garden in Katie’s back yard, made up of plants gifted in memorial. A lilac bush, an azalea, two hyacinth, and lots of forget me nots. After that I drove 90 minutes to Toledo, checking into a hotel. Late last night, Katie called me to read me a poem she’s written, composed after listing pages of words collected from the wishes, fears and medical reports of Stephie’s last days — a strobe of a poem that made my eyes water.

Today the third grade writers were listing details about their bathtubs. From hair in the drain to bubbles up the nose, we talked about the importance of details in making clear images for our poems. The blond girl had a pencil in one hand and her paper in the other, sitting on the floor, when she turned to me and asked with a genuine interest in my response, “why are you teaching us to write poetry?”

“Because someday you will need it. I can’t tell you when, but you will.”

May 14, 2008

Thank you

So many notes and calls — meat platters, fruit baskets, plants, flowers and a tree. We can’t thank everyone enough for all your caring thoughts and feeling hearts. We remain off balance, a bright star missing from the mobile of family.

So much support from community — our wide community of teachers, students, friends, neighbors, writers, children, elders, businesses — an overwhelming tidal wave of love to help buoy our family. The pain is too great to carry alone. Grateful thanks to all who have contacted us to ask if they could help shoulder a piece.

Yesterday along with all the tears were also smiles. Stephie was a happy girl, loved and loving. Please visit my daughter Kelly’s blog and fliker site for more images. http://rememberingtheday2day.blogspot.com/

Jane Yolen wrote this reminder to me: “We are so accustomed to believing in forever, we forget to celebrate the now moments. Borrowing from tomorrow.” Yesterday we celebrated the now along with grieving for the lost tomorrows. Life is fickle, you just can’t trust it.

But I have been reminded of what we can trust, and that is the love of family and community. Thank you. Thank you.

May 10, 2008

Stephanie Lufkin

STEPHANIE LYN “STEPHIE” LUFKIN, age 7. First Grade Student at Normandy Elementary School, Bay Village. Precious princess and cherished daughter of Katie (nee Traynor) and Douglas; loving sister of Scotty and Sara; adored granddaughter of Sara Holbrook and Michael Salinger, Thomas Traynor and Rosemary Breehl, Joe and Lyn Lufkin of Tampa, FL.; sweet niece of Kelly “Tee-Tee” and Brian Weist, Dave and Cyndi Lufkin, Darcy and Doug Zehe, Cheryl and Dan Belic, Tom Lufkin and Max and Frank Salinger; awesome cousin to Benny, Danny, Tommy, Mason, Conor, Angela and Big Money Nick; best-est friend to Miss Clare Matthews and deeply loved by all who knew her. Seven years ago Stephie danced her way into our hearts and cart-wheeled through life. Passed away, Thursday, May 8, 2008. Funeral Services, Bay Presbyterian Church (Lake and Columbia Roads) TUESDAY May 13th at 11:00 AM. Interment Lakewood Park Cemetery. Friends may call in the McGORRAY BROS. FUNERAL HOME OF WESTLAKE, 25620 CENTER RIDGE RD. (Just West of Columbia) MONDAY from 2-4 and 6-9 PM and TUESDAY MORNING AT BAY PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH (In The Great Hall) from 10:00 AM TILL TIME OF SERVICES. In lieu of flowers, family suggests memorials to The Stephanie Lufkin Memorial Fund at Charter One Bank, 411 Dover Center Rd, Bay VillageOH 44140. www.cleveland.com/obits

April 20, 2008

Breaking the Ice

I haven’t been blogging — obviously, the last blog has a picture of a blizzard and birds who can’t believe their luck are breakfasting on swiped grass seed from the front lawn. I’ve been form Istanbul to Iowa and various stops in between since last writing. I always have more excuses for not writing than for eating unhealthy foods and I’ve been delving into both of those pass times shamelessly. Although not writing here, I do have three manuscripts in process — and a fourth that is only in an infant stage.

More than Just Friends — this book now has a cover, see above. The photo was shot by my friend Steve Smith, now of Mexico when he and his wife were living in Morocco. These were the same two that we visited in Croatia in December of 2006 when and where I actually wrote two of the sonnets in the book. Allan Wolf and I are anxiously awaiting layouts of the book to see what was done with the photos inside of the book.

I am also working on a manuscript of poems for primary folks and this week I am visiting Mentor High School to write definition poems with the tenth grade for a teacher professional book — working from a vocabulary list from Lord of the Flies.

High school kids treat vocabulary lessons with same the gleeful anticipation that gets them jazzed before, say, a gritty dust storm. A storm that would be bad enough to get under your tank top but not bad enough to cancel school. In preparation for entering the storm, I took one of the words from the list and made a kind of monologue definition of it.

Hiatus

Excuse me. Do you mind?
Give me a break.
I am hiatus and I don’t go with the flow.
I stop.
Like this.
Interrupting the current, I’ll dam up your stream.
I’ll be the chasm in your prairie.
I’m the off switch on your wall.
Got the picture? The picture with the hole in it?
That’s me.
BTW, we’re done.
I’m gone.
Break time.

All things considered, that one seemed appropriate to share here. Except, I’m not gone. I’m back. Hiatus is over. I hope.

March 9, 2008

The opposite of Bali

The opposite of Bali is Cleveland in the blizzard of the century. Granted, the century is only 8 years old, but this was it man. The recital that ODOT prepares for all year, the big show, winter’s grand finale. The good thing is she still has it in her to blast the human race into almost total submission. The bad thing is she let loose on the day we were to depart for Istanbul. And we were so close. On the plane — on an earlier flight — bags in the hold, books in hand, and they off loaded us. Among the many problems that crowded in next was the fact there would be no seats on any plane out of Cleveland left for a Sunday departure, meaning we had not lost one day, but two.

A plan was hatched (be it somewhat crazy) to DRIVE through the blizzard to Detroit where we could meet up with our delayed itinerary on Sunday. Avis was too smart to be renting cars, but National was happy (in a heh heh you fools sort of way) to provide us with a grandma land cruiser to mount our assault on the turnpike. White out conditions, white on the road, Michael’s white knuckles on the wheel. The thing about the picture below is that it is in full color.

Saw a snow plow in a ditch, wounded cars and trucks at odd angles to the traffic, very little of the road, and finally the sun as we emerged from the storm around Toledo. We celebrated with chili dogs at Tony Paco’s Cafe (made infamous by Mash’s Klinger) and crashed at a Holiday Inn Express, and ironic cap to a day of delays.

Remembering what we learned in Bali, that there is not bad — just good and not so good — it is impossible to let yesterday’s blizzard snow all over today. But I definitely think you could say yesterday was not so good.

March 4, 2008

Mont ‘Kiara International School Kuala Lumpur

I was blown away by Mont’Kiara. Posted all over were copies of my poems and the kids had studied and had fun with the poems in preparation for my visit. I could tell what a good job the teachers did in preparing the students when I found them reciting some of the poems right along with me. The students even prepared an original poem for the introduction. I have been away from my computer and reconnecting with Kelly and family in Virginia and I left my photos on my home computer, so this posting is late. Too late. Now, as I look at these pictures over a week old, it seems like I’m calling up old friends. Hey, remember me? I sure remember you!

I remember the voices, the smiles, and the handshakes and all that made this a wonderful visit. Many many thanks to media specialists Amy Sholdt and Laurie Collins for making my visit to Kuala Lumpur extra special.

I didn’t see them, but I heard that monkeys play on the playground at MKIS and even get into backpacks and lunches. What I did see was a rehearsal for an upcoming program where some students were playing large drums and others were doing line dancing to Achy Breaky Heart. When you think about it, the USA exports some of the strangest commodities.

Teacher Pat Carelli had her students write the most colorful and precious thank you notes. As the lights of the plane were dimmed as it gained altitude, I opened up the envelope and chuckled and smiled over the carefully illustrated poems and notes composed by her students. I am so impressed by their writing and drawing talents.

These past few weeks have almost been too much to absorb for me. All the kindness and the poetry way more than made up for the long hours on the airplanes. In fact, sitting here this evening, I don’t hardly remember the plane rides, or the waits, or the lines at immigration. Those memories have sunk to the bottom. What remains on top are all the smiling friends.

February 22, 2008

One Gong or Two?

“Everybody take out a piece of paper and something to write with.” So begins the writing workshop. Michael and I conducted about 20 workshops at JIS Middle — lots of students, lots of pens on paper. Some of the poems I never heard because the writers were too shy to share. Others flew by in presentation almost too fast to hear (pacing, pacing). In the end, everyone got something written and hopefully gained some confidence in their own ability to organize thoughts and commit them to paper.

At the end of the week the students participated in a series of poetry jams — not really slams. But the audience was still involved as they cheered for each poet to receive one gong or two from the giant gamalong on stage. Due to the inevitable reality of score creep, we were up to 5, 6 and 10 gongs by the time each class period ended.

Two girls (separately) were so freaked out by the idea of live performance of their own poetry that they were actually sobbing when it came their time to read. But each girl DID IT. Everyone marveled at their courage (6 gongs!)

There were many great poems throughout the week and it really is impossible to choose just one to feature as an example, but unfortunately there isn’t space here to publish them all. Eighth grader Simran Ahluwalia’s poem was powerful when he read it in class, and then again at the end of the week. I asked Simran (pictured above with Michael) to share a copy of his poem with me so I could post it here. His teacher Scott Chamberlain forwarded it on. Like many of the JIS students, Simran has mastered English as a second language, which makes his composition all the more exceptional.

In the depths of the abyss we call a brain,
In the left half lays the most powerful psychological weapon.

Creativity is a rainbow coloured sword,
A sword which brings all knowledge to its knees.
Sages of the coloured art speak out against the box,
The box which keeps uniform and order.
To have creativity is a curse once you show it,
Public want more and more of it.
A masked poison to keep unicorms alive,
Used by war departments to inflict maximum pain.

Simran Ahluwalia

To all the poets I met at JIS, I say thank you for sharing a little piece of yourselves through your poetry. Special thanks to Simran for allowing me to share his poem here.

February 22, 2008

Jakarta International Middle School

A couple of traveling poets might be a little wary about an assembly at 7:30 AM on Monday morning under any circumstances. The kick off assembly at JIS Middle School followed a long weekend, a holiday to celebrate Chinese New Year. And just as Michael and I had vacationed in Bali for the weekend, many of the students had been off somewhere if not physically, then mentally for five whole days. But as the stage was once again lined with flowers and the members of the string ochestra poised their bows to the tap of the conductor, I felt the room of students settle into quiet attention. Not nap mode — quiet attention.

First, about the string orchestra. Bravo! I mean, incredible. They were playing Arabian Dreams, by Soon Hee Newbold. (here is a link to an online version http://www.fjhmusic.com/strings/st6027.htm) They were not playing Home on the Range or Long, Long Ago, mind you. It was beautiful. Haunting, lyrical, like a Rumi poem on horseback. The other piece (I believe) was Vivaldi, but when it comes to classical music, I am definitely NOT smarter than a sixth grader. We were introduced with an original poem by two students and read by the poets. And then Michael and I were both presented with lovely silk scarves, tokens of honor, and instructed in how to wear them. Many thanks to media specialist Kate Hodgson for all her planning and extraordinary efforts to make the week a success.

The rest of the week was great as we got to meet each class twice, one for writing and once for performance. On Thursday night it was Family Poetry Night and we joined Georgia Heard (and her son Leo, who were there visiting the elementary schools) for a night to celebrate poetry.

It happened to be on Valentine’s night, and it truly was a heartwarming event. Kids, teachers, and parents wrote love messages (I love your eyes, you are my heart, I love when you lean into my shoulder, etc.) on post-its and we read them as a giant list poem at the end of the evening. The kids lined up to take turns reading each other’s notes and continued to write more, all for a chance to come to the mic in the name of LOVE.

Spontaneous poetry.