My Daughter Sang for the Queen!

I see my brief foray into pop culture has resulted in little attention, but given the overwhelming presence of the Sopranos' last episode in the blogosphere, I am not surprised. But I was right about Tony, Sil and Phil. And culture accretes so quickly; in Ray Ratto's column in the S.F. Chronicle today, he opined that the Giants were "as flat as Phil Leotardo's head." That came out in print less than twelve hours after the earlier showing of the Sopranos finale.

On another front, I polished a previous blog into a respectable essay: "My Struggle with Literary Narcissism," now appearing at a fine new online journal, Umbrella, about which Norm Ball informed me (his essays have appeared in previous issues). The essay is confessional, theological, psychological and literary. (What you have come to expect from me?)

I may have mentioned it, but I also have upcoming poems in Byline and Contrary, two paying journals. I have quit writing poetry for the nonce and now introduce myself as someone into "marketing."
That is, I am marketing old chestnuts instead of harvesting new ones.

Tonight we head for my eldest daughter's, where we shall soon see our rambunctious grandson and afterwards proceed south for baby Sarah's high school graduation. Here's a picture Sarah again:



As poet Teresa White wrote me, "When I met her she looked like Alice in Wonderland; now she looks like Helen of Troy."

Sarah hopes soon to be in her own digs with friends, employed while auditioning for further roles in her acting and singing career. I just found out from my sister on Saturday that Sarah had been in an elite choir to serenade the Queen at the commemoration of Jamestown. My other daughters may be so inured to her success that they left this morsel out, but I was still a little hurt by it. No matter. I'm a proud papa, even if my last teenager doesn't think of calling me. She has a lot on her plate, and her peer group, at this stage of development, is more important.

If this sounds like the intellectual defense of rationalization, well, it is.

At least, due to my psychiatric training and modicum of honesty with myself, I know which defense I'm using!


All for today,

C. E. Chaffin