Charles Hedrick Birthday and Poetry Month: Ode to the Mundane

Charles and Peggy Hedrick (and me)

 

"The most effective poems are those in which the poet is sharing an experience in heightened language…objective of poetry is to be understood…the author's meaning, however, does not control the poem once it is published. At that point it belongs to the reader…"
- Charles Hedrick

 

Charles Hedrick has a PhD in Religious Studies from California's Claremont Graduate School. He's an author, pastor, army chaplain, professor and linguaphile who's appeared on tv, consulted for films, worked archaeological digs and travelled the world where he's "hobb-nobbed with some near celebrities." His resume is so long it's properly called a Curriculum Vitae and gets its own web space. His books and articles cover a variety of thoughtful topics, including God, the Bible, spirits, church, religions and much more. To learn about Charlie and his fifty plus years of doctoral theological linguistic authoring travel and rabble rousing check out his blog and website:

 

Visit Charlie's blog at http://blog.charleshedrick.com

Go to Charlie's website at http://www.charleshedrick.com

 

This great man is also my dad and April is his Very Important Birthday month. As all Charlie ever wants for his special day are socks and poems and I'm too far away to pony up the argyles - I've posted April's blogs as 80-word poems in his honor. This is the last of four entries. I hope you've enjoyed it as much as I've been challenged by it - phew, poems are hard!

 

Happy birthday Dad!

 

Doha's Expat Wife Life

 

Ode to the Mundane**

(Song of an Expat Wife)

 

Woebegone endeavors,

Deported bureaucrat:

lift weed tote cart walk; here

there's someone to do that.

 

Thou vanquished commonplace,

Exquisite everyday.

What thy presence giveth,

absence taketh away.

 

Unbiased taskmaster,

O virtuous mundane.

Parts once winsome mighty,

now jiggle sag complain.

 

Ordinary petty,

prosaic humdrum life.

Pedestrian plain tasks

elude this expat wife.

 

Concealed behind this hedge,

no capricious whimsy.

Hiding from helpers who'd

whisk my humdrum from me.

 

Truant common chores plus

sedentary gnome, in

languorous malfeasance,

carries groceries home.

 

 

**I don't speak for all expat wives, many of whom find a way to maintain muscle tone without benefit of the great and glorious everyday mundane. In fact, some expat women don't miss scouring, scrubbing, mowing, weeding, or sticky-papering-the-cabinets at all. Like, for example, those who travel with children or work regular jobs while living abroad. Plus, even if everyday tasks existed here in Doha, once traffic years were factored in even the most ambitious spouse-on-duty wouldn't have time to complete them. (Doha traffic is the real reason that God invented maids and nannies...but that's another blog for another day.)

 

Charles Hedrick Birthday and Poetry Month: On Niqabs and Tattoos

Charles Hedrick

April is milestone birthday month for my dad, the theologian, author, rabble rouser and poet, Charles Hedrick.

 

Read Charlie's blog where he waxes scholastically philosophical on all things God, Jesus, Mary and Joseph, Bible, spirit, soul, peace, prayer and much more. (http://blog.charleshedrick.com)

 

Visit Charlie's website to view presentation videos, pictures, and learn more about Charlie's latest publications. (http://www.charleshedrick.com)

 

As all Charlie ever wants for his birthday is socks and poems, I'm posting this month's blogs in 80 word meter, a number which may be important to Charlie's big celebration (but you didn't hear it from me).

 

poet, linguist, theologian

April's posts are written for him

(but if there's a royalty

endorse those checks over to me)

 

Happy Big Birthday Month, Dad.

 

 

On Niqabs and Tattoos

 

Tattoos are haraam, forbidden;

they're permanent, cause pain and change

the body which God created.

 

Our hostess removed her niqab,

and scarf and answered questions on

covering, Islam and tattoos.

 

All Muslim women don't cover,

said the Iranian, her scarf

draped loosely over tinted hair.

 

And, my eighty-seven year old

mother, prayerful Muslim woman,

just got her first tattoo. I thought,

 

Except for the permanence, scarred

skin, pain and God thing, at eighty-

seven, I might get a tat too.

 

 

**It's possible I don't write serious long or deep enough to be a real poet, but, in Charlie's honor I'm sweating rhythm and sometimes rhyme over at the Writer's Digest Poem a Day Challenge. For easy retrieval, those poems are reposted here (http://cindikennaley.blogspot.com).

Charles Hedrick Birthday and Poetry Month: Expat Kid

Charles Hedrick examines a 4th Century Coptic manuscript

Coptic Museum, Cairo, Egypt

c. 1974

 

Today marks a Very Important Birthday for renown Bible scholar, theologian, author, teacher, celebrated rabble rouser and poet, Charles Hedrick. In honor of this great event, I offer 4 blog posts as 80-word poems (I'm not saying which, but one of these numbers is significant to Charles's birthday).

 

To learn more about this great man I get to call Dad:

 

Read Charlie's blog at: http://blog.charleshedrick.com

Visit Charlie's website at: http://www.charleshedrick.com

 

Hedrick family

Cairo, Egypt

c. 1974

 

Expat Kid

 

the top of Egypt's

pyramid is flat

strewn with large stones and

ancient graffiti

 

below, minarets

dome topped mosques the Nile

a green stripe carved through

endless miles of sand

 

where expat kids took

saddled horses to

Sahara City

without permission

 

trouble with Dad but

opportunity

for life lessons like

don't be stupid plan

 

live wonder grow get

the degree study

language culture seize

possibility

 

pray risk dream praise God

climb pyramids, and

leave a note before

long desert journeys

 

Expat kid meets Henry Kissinger (sort of)

Coptic Museum, Old Cairo

 

On Growing Up Overseas

 

They're army brats like my mother, the lawyer, Peggy Hedrick (visit her popular website about all things law here: http://www.peggyhedrick.com). They're children of ambassadors, oil execs, teachers, contractors, doctors, missionaries and scholarly PhD's working on the translation and conservation of ancient documents found in remotest regions of the Arabian desert.

 

Expat kids come in all nationalities, colors, shapes and sizes and are found in interesting places across the planet, including Doha, Grand Rapids, Los Angeles, Taipei and more. They play soccer in Paris on Tuesday and debate in London on Thursday. They speak English, Arabic, French and German before breakfast and ride streetcars to school.

 

It's a charmed life with an edge, as a Scottish-American-Doha-expat-married-to-a-Texan-raised-in-England-with-three-children-born-in-three-different-countries-looking-at-colleges-in-Holland-Switzerland-Colorado-Texas reminded me: expat kids experience the world, but miss out on family stuff other kids take for granted. Like stopping by Grandma's after school for a hug and snack, weekend overnights with cousins and tough talking Harley riding across the street neighbors named Shane who will scare off the bad guys and may or may not have changed your diaper.

 

To some expat kids, ice cream with Grandma is right up there with the weekend safari and China's Great Wall.

 

Expat kids are as different as grains of sand in the desert. But whether the overseas period lasts a year like mine, my sister's and brother's or an entire childhood - there are two things the expat kids I know seem to have in common: tales of crazy what-were-you-thinking life altering adventure; and an understated appreciation for the uniqueness of the opportunity until it's long past.

 

Because when you're a kid, whether living abroad or at home, it doesn't matter if you're waterskiing Table Rock Lake, Missouri or Doha Bay, Qatar. As long as you're loved, scaling Giza's pyramids and learning to milk a dairy cow in the U.S. landlocked Midwest are, well, just - part of life.

 

Happy Birthday Dad! Sorry (again) about the horseback-riding-Sahara-City thing. And the Beatlemania thing in London. And lots of other things. You're pretty awesome for a rabble rousing 4 or 80 year old. Thanks for loving me no matter where we are in the world.

Charles Hedrick Birthday and Poetry Month: Shoes

Charles Hedrick  is a renown Bible scholar, theologian, author, teacher and celebrated rabble rouser. But in his hidden, most meditative regions, where truths are laid bare, he's a deep thinking, contemplative poet.

 

He's also my dad.

 

Read Charles Hedrick's blog: http://blog.charleshedrick.com

Visit Charles Hedrick's website: http://www.charleshedrick.com

 

April is Charles Hedrick's birthday month. It's also National Poetry Month in the U.S.

 

Since all he ever wants for his birthday are socks and poems, I offer the next four blogs as 80-word poems (one of these numbers is significant to Charles's birthday; I'm not saying which lest it be considered "telling").

 

In honor of this great man I get to call DAD, I'm also participating in the Writer's Digest Poem a Day Challenge. My entries are reposted here.

 

Happy Birthday Dad. This is for you.

 

Shoes

plastic shoes
scattered about steps
wait
for the prayerful

in
sweaty
stinky
dirty
impure
boots

to
wash face, forearms, head
and
cleanse feet, like this:

begin on the right

right hand scrubs right foot
and ankle,
everything wet
insert
right hand pinkie finger
between toes
repeat three times

left hand scrubs left foot
and ankle,
everything wet
insert
left hand pinkie finger
between toes
repeat three times

scatter plastic shoes
about steps

since feet,
like souls,
are bare
for
prayer