Skunks Like Bratwurst

by Lydia Daffenberg

Back in the late 70's, my family owned a Winnebago which we would drive to Door County, Wisconsin for a week of RV camping. We always stayed at Wagon Trail Campground at the very tip of the peninsula. Often, my brother, Scott, my mother and I would stay the whole week and my dad would drive up to meet us on weekends--when he wasn't working.

On one of those weekday evenings my mother was doing laundry at the lodge. My brother and I remained back at the campsite, sitting at the picnic table eating our brats by the smoldering fire. I heard noises from the edge of the forest. I quietly signaled to Scott. We both turned around in time to watch three skunks meander out from the woods and into our campsite.

Ignoring us, they wondered toward the fire which sat between us and them and circled it--their striped snouts sniffing all the while. Scott and I sat, petrified. We had heard stories of people getting sprayed who had to take tomato juice baths to get rid of the smell which, we had also heard, didn't work very well. We thought that if we moved--they would spray. We didn't communicate this, we just knew the other knew. Both of us remained very still.

We waited for them to go away, but they didn't. Instead the three skunks waddled under the picnic table and began rubbing on our legs--acting like they were our pet cats. Scott and I stared directly into each other's eyes, our terror easily discerned by the other. Being the oldest and my protector, Scott took the lead. He whispered his plan to me so quietly that his orders were nearly telepathic. "When I count to three, we'll get up and run for the camper. Ok?"

"Ok." We waited for the skunks to move away a bit--so they weren't touching us. Then came the count.

"One--two--three!" We swung our legs over the bench and sprinted toward the camper door. Scott threw open the screen, then the door. We dove in. He slammed the door shut, sealing us from harm and stink. We had made it. We sat in our sanctuary breathing hard, feeling our heartbeats, listening. In our minds, the skunks were under the camper. We were sure of it. Then we remembered our mother. She would return soon and surely get sprayed--we had no way of warning her. A moment later, the door opened. We both jumped, but it was just mom carrying the basket of warm, folded clothes. She was safe and so was the laundry. We rattled off our story, but could see through her astonishment that she slightly doubted the extent of our skunkly encounter.

I looked down at what was in my hand. To Scott and I, it was proof of our ordeal. My brat was squished. I had been squeezing it so hard that, after I opened my hand, its outline remained. Our laughter calmed us. I finished my brat. Turns out, it was the best tasting one I've ever had. Now that's comfort food.

Five Newly-Defined Words

by Lydia Daffenberg

edition: any addition of writing done to a piece while editing.

egocentrifugal force: a person who exhibits egocentrifugal force makes everything in a conversation revolve around themself.

highfalutin hyphenation: the act of over-hyphenating--in words or in sentence structure (many examples of this found on Brewed Nature).

the mayonaise: the scoop, the story.

comic sketchiness: when a comedian is not clear.

Blogexploding It

by Lydia Daffenberg

I admit It.
I did It.
I zoned out and clicked It--

All the while

Earning credits with It.
I'd never done It

Before.

I wanted to see what It

Was like.
Do you

Do It?

On Being Zelda

by Lydia Daffenberg

I've become the Zelda I've never wanted to be
He's become, who would have guessed, "The Great Gatsby"

I start, you finish
Numbers too large to keep score
If I wasn't dead already, I'd probably die some more
Instead I just click off.
I know, you scoff . . .

But your self-doubt speaks:
"What do you think of this?
How does that read?
Does this represent me?"

"It's great, what can I say,
I'm Zelda and your Gatsby."
Go ahead, take it away.

Now

by Lydia Daffenberg

Here it is--the poem of the now
Sunset-lit
Spread out, soaked

Colors against closed lids
Bounce balls over words
"Here it is--the poem of the now"

The Pink Ribbon Wins The Blue Ribbon!

by Lydia Daffenberg

Any ad campaign worth anything has a unique gimmick to get people's attention and money. Organizations go out of their way to think up something original for their trademark--something that will set them apart from other organizations. That's why, when it comes to ribbon campaigns, I don't get it.

There are so many ribbon campaigns out there, it's hard to remember what the different colors stand for. I've seen yellow, pink, red, blue, green, white and patriotic color-themed ribbons. The only one I have down for sure is that pink is for breast cancer. I believe red is for AIDS, and the patriotic color-themed ones are remnants of the Patriot-Pandemic that swept America in the 9/11 aftermath. I'm not sure about yellow--if it's officially only for Support Our Troops--I've seen it with other slogans too. And I have no idea what blue, green or white stand for.

As a kid growing up in the late 70's, I saw yellow ribbons tied around the trunks of trees and instantly thought of the song Tie a Yellow Ribbon 'Round the Old Oak Tree. I tried to remember the rest of the song so I could figure out the mystery of why. I think the yellow ribbons were for hostage troops, or in memory of lost troops, in some middle-east skirmish--or something. I dunno, I was a kid young enough to only be concerned with myself. I remember some of the ribbons I saw being very weathered and ratty looking, and I didn't understand why people wouldn't take them down or replace them.

When it comes to wearable ribbon campaigns, however, I believe the breast cancer campaign--the pink ribbon--was first. Then 9/11 came and everyone was wearing the colors of the flag, the ol' Red White and Blue, smack-dab over their hearts. You could make the pins however you wanted. With thin silk ribbons--one strand each of red, white and blue--or with wide pieces of ribbon that were pre-printed with all three patriotic colors. But, like in the late 70's, ribbons frayed. People got tired of replacing them and moved on to permanent ribbon-pins that they purchased at Wal-Mart checkouts across the nation. Instead of pinning a ribbon on, people were pinning a ribbon-pin on. These new real pins were all about the bling. They had tiny stones set into them and some even reminded us that, "We Will Never Forget." So we cheapened 9/11 a bit more and pop-cultured ribbons at the same time.

There was a problem though. All across America, safety-pins spilled from junk drawers, just asking for a purpose. This was the birth of the ribbon-campaign campaign that PR directors of organizations everywhere latched on to--now only needing to be creative when it came to the color of the ribbon. After all, the 9/11 pins were here to stay, so other ribbon campaigns were deemed a guaranteed success. Soon everyone wanted a ribbon of their own to proudly pin to their lapel so you could see they cared--about something. You might not know what that something was, but you knew they did indeed care.

After all that, we wanted to continue to show we cared because the rest of the world didn't believe we did. They thought the US was a child--only concerned with itself. So we decided to keep this new care-ethic of show. We wanted to wear our hearts on our sleeves. We decided to go more public with our ribbons and turn them into magnets for our cars. Like the young capitalist just starting his new business, we slapped magnetized signs on our vehicles advertising the cheap way.

But something always leads to something else, and we even started getting sick of our own magnet-ribbons. PR directors came together with a mission to find a new gimmick. They found it in care-bracelets. Perhaps you've seen them. Different-colored plastic bands. Again, the color of the band signifies the cause. Some of them have logos pressed into them as well--telling just what the bracelet's all about. This is necessary because, like the ribbon campaigns, no one can remember what the colors stand for!
So the blue ribbon goes to the pink ribbon, after all, it was first.

Do You Know Green Man?

by Lydia Daffenberg

The return of spring has really pushed me toward living blogs: blog-posts that have to do with life and rebirth. On this continued thread-of-thought, I bring you Green Man.

Green Man is a comforting figure to me--old and familiar--like we've been acquaintances for a long time. I can't even remember when we first met. He's hard to pin down, to define. There's an understanding, however, an innate presence of him within our psyche that, once found, makes sense without explanation.

Very little is known about Green Man and his beginnings, or on just how long he's been around. Adding to the mystery, his identity and form have probably evolved and morphed several times over the years, blurring his origin. His image is abundant throughout Europe--found on old buildings, shops and, interestingly, in churches.

Green Man has been said to represent nature--his spirit or energy present in all vegetation. This energy continues its flow to us through our consumption of plants. The God of the Forest, the life spirit: Green Man. Elusive yet known. Dr. Dan Noel's article, Who is the Green Man?, suggests that Green Man offers a balance to Mother Nature as a male form of nature--a "Father Nature."

The anthropomorphic form given to Green Man shows the importance early man put on this ancient figure. That he would be displayed, copied and mutated over time hints at Green Man's role as a dominant representational figure in the past, perhaps even a forgotten pagan god. His leaf-face and vines, which are often depicted spewing from his mouth, symbolize man's reliance on living vegetation for our existence and the connection of living organisms. We are continued energy-- fauna through flora. We are He.

In his examination of Green Man, Mike Harding mentions a possible Green Man reference within the character, Jack-in-the-Green, who's role in May Day processions of the past and of today is to lead in dance before the May Queen. Other possible character references Harding points out are: Robin Hood, Robin Goodfellow and Puck.

There's a 40ft. tall Green Man that stands outside The Custard Factory in Birmingham, UK. It was created by master sculpter, Tawny Gray. Check out the site. I want one.

The Green Man in the above photo hangs in my kitchen. I've had him now for over 10 years. I've moved a lot within those years, and everytime he's always been hung back up in a prominent location of the household.

Where can you find Green Man hiding this year? Outdoors and within yourself, he's there.