Walldren's World

This Sunday's poem was written many years ago and inspired by the copious amounts of "French" music I was listening to in the early 2000's. Enjoy. Bohemian Urge by Scott Walldren Oh to be a Bohemian and live the life of the street musician, except for in the wintertime, of course, when my accordion would freeze to the money-collecting monkey’s paw and he would have to be chopped free from my shoulder by some kindly axe-wielding passerby. And then of course, I’d have to buy a new accordion. And a new monkey. Hmm. But how sweet it could be! Sitting on a bench in the park or on the sill of a shop window, playing outside with my heart’s joys and sorrows for the occasional scrap of a dollar. To above all be free from pretension and simply be, to feel the note soar in my heart and fly out through my hands as they squeeze the life out of the box. And then there would be the policeman. “Do you have a license to perform?” he would ask. “Does one need a

Thrilled as I am to hear that Neil Gaiman's newest novel, The Ocean at the End of the Lane , has been published, I was even more excited to hear that Neverhwere  the first book of his that I ever read had been adapted into a BBC Radio drama produced by Dirk Maggs. For those of you not already in the know, Dirk Maggs is the man responsible for the great "continuation" of Douglas Adam's Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy  as well as Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency that ran on BBC radio. So, not only did I just finish listening to one of my favorite stories, I got to hear it interpreted through a full cast produced by a man whose previous work had already won me over. The result? I enjoyed it thoroughly and could not stop listening. I think that time has shown me that Neverwhere is not a perfect story. If you haven't read it, it's basically about a man who, through performing an act of kindness, gets thrown into an alternate "fan

Being a parent to two children under 4 and caring a great deal about how our kids turn out with respect to manners and courtesy, I am so glad my lovely wife devised a daily rewards system ritual for the kids. The Process The kids need to behave a certain way consistently throughout the day and perform specific chores in order to get stickers. These stickers go into a chart or grid and at the end of the day we review and provide feedback on how the day went. If they fill up their charts, then they get to pick anything they want from the "Treasure Box". The Template Each child gets his or her own chart. The tasks or behaviors are "SMART" (Specific, Measurable, Attainable, Realistic, and Time-bound). Don't worry, we aren't trying to micromanage our children like the " anal retentive chef ". Here's a link to a PDF of our two kids' reward charts  if you're interested in trying this yourselves. The Review Process We tre

When I started blogging here just 4 short weeks ago, I never thought this day would come. But the entire staff here at Walldren's World is thrilled to announce that today we've reached 300 pageviews. Through it all, dear readers, you've borne witness to an infant blog stand up on its own two legs and reach upwards and outwards to embrace the bright sunshine. Thank you for your readership and support.

Today's service at our church was about poetry. So, for the first time in many years I stood before a room full of people and nervously read the following poem that I wrote way back when. The things that can cause anxiety never really cease however our response to them can. That's what I think prompted me to write this. Spring Blossom by Scott Walldren After a while I will shed my skin and thank the powers for another time to be. Another time to live and grow, like a spring blossom. Brought into being by such a turbulent start, thunder, lightning, rain giving life. The great fear. Where does it all end and I begin? And then there becomes that particular quiet, the distant final rattle of thunder over the horizon and the haze begins to clear. I will now finally be able to meet the sun. Only then can I say that "I am" again. But sometimes old snakeskin dreams lay all around me and I choke on the dander of a different day. Great fear returns. My