Eights and sevens
Threes and twos
Math brings everything
Into view
Trapezoid, rhombus
Cubes and squares
Imagine, calculate
And compare
Fraction, cosine
Denominator
Essential tools
To make us greater
Find the difference
Plot the graph
Perceive, predict
And build with math
Engineer, geologist
Statistician, nurse
Math paints a picture
Of the universe
Tessellation
Infinity
Contemplating
Reality
by Richard W. Bray
Warning: nostalgia alert. When I was a kid we had three networks and about seven local television stations to watch on TV, and that was it. That’s right, there was no satellite television and cable TV was only available for the rich folks in Malibu Canyon. The local stations played the same insipid reruns over and over on a perpetual loop. (When I read Dante’s Inferno, I was surprised to find no mention of The Flintstones, I love Lucy, and Gilligan’s Island.) It was a big deal when the networks played a classic movie like The Sound of Music, Fiddler on the Roof, or The Wizard of Oz. And it only happened about once a year, so if your car broke down or you had to work late, that was just too darn bad. No VCRs. (Please forgive me if I’m frightening any of my younger readers.)
One Saturday morning when I was about nine years old, my sister Laura and I watched a strange and captivating movie, and then we did something kids used to do with great frequency—we went outside to play. Almost immediately our neighbors Stan and Scott Quackenbos emerged from their house. They had also just finished watching the strange movie. Then Jason and John Powers joined us. (John was old; he was in high school.) Yes, we had all seen the same movie on tv, and we were talking about it face to face without the aid of electronic gadgets. A short while later, Dwayne Norwood, another high schooler, entered our cul-de-sac. He had trekked all the way down from Lynoak Drive to visit John.
“Man, I just saw the weirdest movie,” he said, and we all laughed.
The movie was Roger Corman’s Little Shop of Horrors. And since we couldn’t google it, we just talked about it, outside on a beautiful sunny Southern California day.
(Yes, younger readers, believe it or not: Before ratings-driven local news stations convinced parents that there was a pervert hiding behind every tree waiting to abduct us, suburban children were actually allowed to go outside and play all by themselves so long as we made it home before the streetlights came on.)
They storm the Earth and stun the Air,
A Mob of solid Bliss—
—Emily Dickinson
of every song
i’ve ever heard,
Sarah Vaughan,
a kitten’s purr,
a crashing wave,
a crooning bird,
the sweetest sound
i ever found
is the bustling clamor
of a full playground
It can’t be overstated
That dull is underrated
And boring is sublime
When you need a project ready
Be thorough, slow, and steady
Work and time will make it shine
Don’t make your schedule hurly-burly
Hit the sack and rise up early
And you’ll save yourself much strife
If you’re staying out till three
You’ll find a heap of misery
Home the place to make a life
Flash and fancy might be funner
But when you need to do it doner
Painstaking effort is the way Poco a poco is my motto
And until you win the lotto
You should show up every day
Are the dishes in the dishwasher clean?
Did you forget to turn on the machine?
Are the dishes in the dishwasher clean?
Why do they smell so foul and obscene?
Are the dishes in the dishwasher clean?
They seem to lack all luster and sheen.
Are the dishes in the dishwasher clean?
Why are they yucky and moldy and green?
Are the dishes in the dishwasher clean?
You look confused; don’t you know what I mean?
Are the dishes in the dishwasher clean?