The New Housing Bubble?

Fifty years ago I graduated from an Ivy League college, then went on for a master's degree. As I began this education I had no resources except for generous scholarships and the work I did on campus. I was always worried about money - and who had the extra to pay for dentistry?

But, still, when the master's degree was in hand I owed ten thousand dollars. In a federal program I could pay off the loan by working in education, ten percent a year. So, after ten years my loan was paid off and I was free and clear to do what I wanted.

I am very afraid that students now have not nearly this option. They believe they are entitled to attend fancy institutions of higher education that attract them with state of the art fitness centers, world class chefs in the cafeteria, dorm rooms worthy of a high end Marriott. They know that it costs a LOT to go to college and they may as well go full throttle (because everyone knows that having a college degree is the ticket to ride.)

And then the price must be paid, and such a great price! Of course this cohort has been used to the debt scene all their lives. Plastic now, pay later.

What will happen to this new generation of young adults who owe so much they cannot pay attention? Will there be a tipping point at which these supremely prepared people cannot possibly get the jobs that will enable them to pay off their education loans? Seems likely.
Perhaps the culture of hippies will return, "hey, Man.."

Or perhaps we'll try reality in higher education. Pay as you go, think about what you really want to learn from professors, and if you really want to climb rock walls, is college the place for this?

Just asking.

Embarrassed

From everywhere on the polls I seem to hear that my age and ethnicity is incredibly selfish and no-nothing! Hey, we have social security and medicare! And these have made an incredible difference to the security of our lives. And most of us are going to vote conservative. So, why are you opposed to the Affordable Care Act?
I am embarrassed to be a part of my generation that now seems to be so mean and uninclusive. Where is the American spirit of taking care of one another? Where is the generosity? Where is the thirst to be informed?

No taxes! Come on! How do you think the services you need, the libraries, the fire department, the police, roads, the parks you love, and so much more are funded??
If our country is just going to be the "me first" place, I will be so disappointed.
I am very much afraid that this country in ten years will be a country of the very rich and the poor, no middle class to speak of. I see such greed and power among the bankers, big pharma, oil companies and you name it. They can (and have) bought elections.

Pay no attention to these awful destructive political ads. They are mostly lies and so you'll actually have to pay attention. Read the NYTimes and listen to NPR (though this one voice of really balanced news is endangered of having their funding cut).

Enough of that! Tonight it is thick with twilight in the forest, deer shrieking at the margins, hummingbirds bumping each other at the feeders, and bats flying around. We have been busy in our studios. Andy finished a quilt  hanger and I am about to finish a new quilt (having sewed my fingers to the bone!) A load of potting soil arrived in the rain and we hope that tomorrow will be clear in the morning so we can distribute some of it where it needs to be.

Remains..

Here are the remains of the vegetable garden. All the beds have been taken over by huge wildly blooming zinnias, red sage, milkweed, and lots of rank weeds. The butterflies love it. We worked for a couple of hours this morning in the fierce heat and mosquitoes, taking out the unproductive tomato vines and withered broccoli. What's left are the pepper plants and a few eggplants, still producing. Andy broke apart the oldest raised bed that was rotten so now there is space for a new bed for the fall garden. We pulled up most of the weeds and tomorrow we'll put down some newspaper and cover everything with hay mulch. All ready for the fall planting.

This place still amazes and delights me! With rainy season well begun, we don't have to water. We have to quell the biomass, prune and weed. Each day we attack the needs of various garden spots, and having made the rounds of all the gardens, we start again. Coffee cup in hand, I walk around the yard (Ms. Inspector) every morning. I notice that the deer have been helpful in pruning the roses and nipping back the Mexican petunias. New buds in the fish pond that will in a few days be magnificent lily blooms. Squirrels, so far, have not been able to attack the hummingbird feeders with the new baffle we installed to thwart them. Tree frogs are everywhere - so loud!

I am so tired of the nasty political climate. I only listen to classical music while I work on my fabric art. And I think and plan..

Tomorrow is my birthday! And I am not anticipating anything at all to celebrate, which is very good because I have everything I could ever want, especially the love of a good man and life partner, and a wonderful and beautiful life.

On the eve of my birthday (72), here are my watchwords for success: Have good work. Eat good local food. Exercise hard every single day. Love your friends and family. Be generous to your community of friends and family and everyone else. Take care of your teeth. Read stuff. Try new things. Wonder. Create. Love one another.

Happy Bastille Day!

Annals of a fun granny- reading to the kids

For this week we have had three boys, seven, eleven and twelve, visiting us. There have been moments when I wondered where I left my senses. But mostly, it has been wonderful zany fun, and really, no one has had a bad moment. We are not those grandparents who easily go to theme parks and fast food places. So they swam many times a day in our pool, played and played outside, drove the golf cart out to explore the fields and ponds and look for the cattle, explored and dug up many ant lions and fossils, made many lovely clay art works. They found our life here interesting and pitched in with the chores of meals, emptying the compost, filling the hummingbird feeders, feeding the dog. Yes, I have had to do some direction. (Did you hang up your towels and swimsuits? Maybe tonight you should all take showers and wash your hair.)

But I think the most special thing is the reading. Yes, of course all kids come with their digital devices, but while here they left them languishing. No one has been at all interested in turning on the TV. They'd much rather play cards after dinner, and everyone knows that G'ma Molly will read to them. I spent some time selecting what books I would read out loud. For the seven year-old I chose "Danny, the Champion of the World", by Roald Dahl, one of my all time favorites. For the older boys I chose "The Pigman" by Paul Zindel.

This evening, after the card game and copious amounts of chocolate ice cream, I began the nightly ritual of reading out loud to them. Of course, all these kids are excellent readers. Reading to kids is the best! They get a free ride for their brains to imagine every single thing and they get to lie close to a favorite adult who is paying attention only to them.

My little seven year old grandson is very tired after his active day and he is glad to cuddle up and hear this book he loves. When beginning a new book, for whatever age, it is crucial to read enough to get the child really hooked, and for the reader (me!) to read fluently and with expression, maybe even changes in tone and accent. The older boys are just as intrigued and love the flow of the story.

My parents read to me and we read out loud to our own kids way into high school. And these children who are now parents read to their kids every day.

Makes me wonder why most folks won't do this simple and tender thing for their kids and students.

Honestly, What I really Want for my Birthday

Actually, I have everything I would ever need in life. I have the gift of discovering such a magnificent wild flower as this may pop on my way to retrieving the morning paper today, and the view of the rising water under the bridge, and the cacophony of frantic frog calls and an owl flying silently through the swamp trees heavy with rain. I have the love of a good man and the incredible beauty of the place where I live and children and family and grandchildren I love and the wonderful friends who decorate my life.

So, what could I ever want? I certainly have no needs for anything material. (We are always trying to divest ourselves of extra stuff!)

This is what I want: I need some service for my digital life! I want some one or some ones to help me down load, off load, up load sidewise load stuff, get rid of pop-ups, find out how to actually get the fancy HD radio I have to play classical music without cutting out every ten seconds, and a ton of other issues. I want someone (or a robot!) to help me on a lot of tech issues I have. I want (in the best of all possible worlds!) not to have to hold back, just ask.

For some reason this blog entry went haywire and it took me three minutes to recover it. Why does this happen?? Maybe no one knows why these gremlins spring up.  I have friends and family who just have opted out of all these issues, My sister doesn't  have a smart phone!

But I am not willing to give up on this. I love being connected, I love Facebook and all the rest. I just want to be more able!

So, for my birthday, don't give me fragrant gifts, candles, soap, baskets of fruit. Hold the cards. I want tech service!

I know this won't happen, actually. It is just a fantasy of mine that tech issues will magically be resolved. And I will thank everyone for the doilies and candles, and I will continue to make quilts and hand-made stuff for the ones I love.

Rain is still happening and life is green.

Food in Pouches! Yikes!

I read in the style section of the New York Times today that many 'up scale families' love those food pouches they can give to their kids on the fly. Lots of these pouches are organic and "fun". The kids suck up the pureed veggies, fruits, and so much else. (potato chips?) No fuss, no mess, no need to have a sit down family meal. Just feed the kids when they are hungry. They don't even have to chew those gristly bits we always used to secretly hide in our napkins. And their parents can tweet and text and drive while their kids get good nutrition.

Ah, I am getting so old! We still love those magical dinners when we all sit down at the long table, youngsters and oldsters, loving the stuff some grandchild has picked from the garden and another one may have cooked with the help of Grandpa. The only leftovers are the bones that go into the soup pot and the vegetable parings that go to the compost pile. No plastic pouches to go into recycling, nothing toxic from the insides of pouches comes from our meals. We love the talk from young and old.

The art camp was very successful, especially the food the kids made from scratch under the tutelage of Mr. Andy. On the last day everyone brought food to share and it was one of the best meals of my life! Hand made corn tortillas, all the fixings for fajitas, flan, guacamole, salsa, and the gringo things too.  Each day, all of us sat down together on the screen porch to eat lunch. (No pouches!) The end of camp was the triple exploding volcano cakes. So satisfying..

Real America, Unhinged

I am exhausted tonight, but in a good way. The second day of our annual summer Art Camp is over and I have been in the barn making sure the clay pieces are more than leather hard and ready for a firing tomorrow. I have put out two more 25lb hunks of red and white clay for tomorrow and located the whiffle ball bats and balls for the pool activities required for the next day. The paint brushes are clean and I have set out the materials for making flubber and various other interesting miscible solutions. We have checked out all the food stuffs we need and thought about what groups will do what, where and when tomorrow.

This week is a gift to our community from us, but mostly it is a gift to us. Each day we have had about twenty people, kids and parents, sometimes more. In this poorest of Florida communities, most folks do not know they should sign up, call, or tell us they can't come that day, or that they will come with many extras. Some parents just want to drop off their kids, and maybe or maybe not pick them up.

 These are not your Manhattan helicopter parents. They are druggies whose kids nag them into going to Ms Molly's camp and finally call an hour before the session begins.

But, yet, they help each other on car pooling, take home those kids whose parents have somehow 'forgotten' them. And they do not make judgments.

And then there are illegal Mexicans who have everything together and if only they had green cards..but still they have visions of college for their kids.
And they are the BEST! They would certainly give those NYC parents a run for their money (if only).

We have learned so much! Our family that hosts this- my husband and I and our seven year old grandson, have everything the American Dream could boast. We are Ivy league wasps, grandson named after a direct ancestor and an early American president. We are fairly prosperous, better off than our parents. We love to share our property and large swimming pool and art facilities and kitchen.

So, I hunker down in the clay studio, comfortable with the give and take of Spanish and English. These kids and parents are making some of the most beautiful clay pieces I have ever seen in a class. The kids get comfortable and range out to paint and build things from the many materials I have. We walk in the woods and collect moss and discarded owl feathers, wonder at turtle burrows.

 A group of kids cook the healthful lunches and prepare snacks. I hear my husband and his cooking group of little kids discussing how to hold a really sharp knife and why cooking from scratch is the best. Kids are swarming the vegetable garden to pick peppers and tomatoes.

Swimming is the best! The kids love Coach Joy who directs the pool. These kids do not have much opportunity to swim and they love every minute.

One child, fourteen years old, painfully shy, whom I'd met on a community clean up some weeks back, contacted me to say she'd like to come and help out. She was one of those people who are powerful in her silence (and made me feel anxious about what I perceived to be her neediness). I made every effort to include her. She was a non swimmer and had hair issues and she did not reach out to any of the other campers. Day two she asked me to teach her how to knit!
I am a terrible knitter, actually, and have only knit three things in my life (one of them an abysmal calamity). But I soldiered on, and this child, after one row, began to knit like a house on fire, row after row. Then she went up to the pool with the swimmers, put on an amazing swim cap to protect her about to be, used to be, might be, nappy hair, and proceeded to dive under water and swim! I held her up and said encouraging words. This kid will be swimming by the end of the week!

But the most astonishing thing to me was hearing some of the back stories of the Mexican parents who are still illegal. Before this I never actually knew anyone who had walked across the border from Mexico, enduring ten days of thirst and hunger and fear. I had never personally heard about the fears these people have on a daily basis, and the raw anxiety they have about their gifted kids who may not be able to go to college. I heard about these parents' quest to get a GED, and being turned down.

Also, there are the parents who are legally citizens, and they are golden!

So, here we are with our bilingual community camp, every socioeconomic class, gender, age, and color. We are the global community and we have more in common than not. On the last day we will have a pot-luck lunch for all the families and we will wear our camp tee shirts and produce an exploding volcano cake.

Maybe Romney should be here. Politicians don't get it.

Crazy in the rain

The weather forecast was for 90% rain today. I was worried about Bob, our yard bird sand hill crane who spent twelve hours yesterday tediously bugling alone outside the vegetable garden. And today he was back,  bugling for who knows what? Where's my family?

The morning began spitting rain and I knew that a troop of Girl Scouts was due to arrive to spend the day in my studio sewing merit badges onto their uniform sashes. I also knew that my husband and I had several important errands to do in town. I knew that the girl scouts were intent on having a swim in the pool between thunder and lightning. And I knew that the state Audubon director was due to arrive at 3.

But I kept an eye on Bob, the crane, who was still making that wild wonderful cry. Usually, Bob is in the company of his mate, Emily. I have wondered whether they raised a chick this year, but as far as I could tell, their nest was not on our nearby pond. Just as it was about time for the scouts to arrive, Bob looked to the skies and saw Emily approaching. He shouted and danced! And, then Emily glided down with their teenager chick!

By now, it was really a frog drowner. The kids had a brief swim in between thunder storms and ate lunch at tables in the barn. They spent hours sewing on the badges and doing girl scout stuff. I am worried that they will be mired on their way out in the four inches of rain that has  already fallen (and they will have to SPEND THE NIGHT!)

The girl scouts leave and we await the Audubon guy who, as everyone coming to this faraway place does, calls repeatedly to get directions. He is 2 hours late, and since we have been up since 6 a.m. we are really looking forward to supper. He arrives in a pounding rain and grins! Passes my first two tests (no suit and tie, no portfolio of glossy materials about how you can donate to Audubon.) I really liked this guy! He was observant and friendly and we had lots of mutual friends. We invited him to stay for supper, but he could not. I gave him some heirloom tomatoes, and I hope we'll see him again. For all I know, he is struggling in a muddy rain swelled ditch up the road, but I think not.

We are getting ready for our week long summer art camp, beginning next Monday. This is our gift to the community, and we expect up to 40 people to come- kids and parents. I have many pounds of fresh clay, paints, paper, materials for sculpture and constructions. I have awesome nature activities. My partner, Andy, will be the master chef, who with kid helpers, will prepare local organic meals from scratch.

Many wonderful community volunteers will help out. I know we'll be tired each evening - and so will the kids. This Audubon guy asked when we told him that we were doing this camp, "Who knows about this? It could be an inspiration to others." I don't know about that. This is just what we do.

The American Dream

Cautious and disbelieving that I am about the direction our country is heading, it affirms my optimism about life here to meet so many young people who still believe that they are on the right track.

Here is Jomesha Isles at a banquet honoring folks who have served on the board of the local community college. Jomesha's story makes the film "Precious" seem tame. Here is this absolutely beautiful young woman, a Lucy Morgan scholarship recipient, head of all honor societies, academically top of her class.  Jomesha has four kids (one of whom was there at the dinner and has already graduated with her AA degree and will go on to bigger things.) Jomesha had such a terrible childhood and adolescence - her mom died of an overdose of drugs, leaving her and her sister at a young age to make their way to a new home with grandparents. Then, there were horrible  and abusive and homeless times, having her first child at 17, working at fast food, and trying to make a life for herself and her kids. Who knows  what epiphany she had?  In  any case, she decided to get on with education, get that high school diploma and begin the long journey toward having the kind of life and work that will provide for her family.

So, here she is, about to be launched as a health care administrator. When she told her story to the group there was not a dry eye in the room! The American Dream.

Yesterday, a young woman and her husband and four year old daughter came by our house for a visit. This young woman is the daughter of Mexican tomato pickers. Somehow, this family began to believe that they should stop moving all the time. They had three daughters and a son and these kids needed to be in one place. So they stayed here in Dade City and began a stable life so their kids could attend school. I came to know this family through a wonderful community activist in the Hispanic community here.(" Here are these three extraordinary girls, all valedictorians - they need sponsors!") So we embarked on a long term financial and friendly contact with them. They went to college and we helped her older sisters get good jobs. There were times when we were in constant contact. They were always such wonderful friends! 

So, I am most interested to find out how everything has turned out, though we know this is always a work in progress. The youngest, Vicky, who came to visit yesterday, is not at all the shy one she used to be. She is the primary breadwinner for her family, office manager in a law firm, but wishes to get her law degree, an opportunity that was denied her (probably) for reasons of ethnicity. But she is optimistic! She and her husband are leapfrogging ahead, have a vision of excellence for their child. 

Who could not believe in the American Dream?

And, so, I keep on trying to give kids a sense of vision, a life they can have if they work hard. Seeing these young people who have succeeded against all odds makes me exceedingly humble.

RAIN

The ghost tree, an ancient dead giant of an oak in our front pasture, is the huge queen, dark with saturation this evening. Like everything else, it has soaked up the heavy rains and day long moisture. The forest beyond is fat and dense. The resurrection ferns make all the oak limbs look plumped out in vivid green.

 We have had a very dry season this spring, crunchy grass underfoot and the cars covered in dust. Every day watering is the norm if we want to keep anything growing in the gardens. So we are all celebrating; frogs are in full throat and we sit out on the front porch before supper watching the hummingbirds come out from their nests to the feeders. Neighbors are on their way to fish in the pond. We can almost see everything growing. Rain is magical to growth. In this rural enclave we always talk about our tomatoes and when will it rain?

We love the beginning of rainy season. It is so crucial to our lives. And yet, for us who are so heliotropic, a rainy day has its challenges. Today I hunkered down in my studio with grandson Quincy,7, and friend Abby, 10. They had many projects in mind. I am trying to finish up the binding on my latest quilt and the kids are working on various projects. I ask them to help me sort out the various bins of art materials (markers here, glue stuff there, make a bin for the paints, etc.) Two hours later, we have everything in order, ready for the summer art camp. Quincy is in love with the finger puppets he has made in the last couple of days, and I must say, they really are very cute! Abby has made a number of wonderful stickers.

Later, after Abby and Quincy have gone home, I relish the quiet and the chance to attend to my own tasks and look at the edge of the woods shrouded in mist from the intermittent rain. There are so many things to worry about, and I do, but here there are so many parts of the natural world that just make me draw in a long breath of happiness.

The Generative Age

For a few weeks I have been consumed with family and community, no time to write. This evening, however, I am happy with having my grandson, Quincy, happily in bed after a choose your own adventure story about the Amazon we read together. He takes it entirely in stride to have a grandmother who has actually been to the Amazon a number of times. We discuss the pink toed tarantulas and the howler monkeys I encountered. A seven year old is such a great audience! Most others are not at all interested.

Yesterday we went to a graduation party for three of my all time favorite people who were graduating from college, all of them the brightest and best. I have known these young women since they were very young, my posse, as we call them. For many years after I was their elementary school teacher they visited us every summer, some years more often. Before they were drivers their parents brought them. Then they came on their own. But, whatever age they were, I respected them, loved them, made quilts for each of them and had a wonderful time in lazy days full of talk, good books, games, great food and ranging in the fields and swamps that we have.

They hosted a wonderful graduation pot luck party; everyone who had been important in their lives were there- ancient grandparents, parents, siblings, family friends, boyfriends, the best college adviser (my sister!). I have found myself thinking a lot about these amazing young women and where they'll go.

The young people I saw yesterday at their graduation are the stars of our national education system. They will go on to huge success.

Other kids in our community are not tasked with such responsibility, nor have they had that brass ring to strive for.

It is my mission to  mulch the minds of the community kids I work with. They need information, experience, good books, far ranging math, questioning. (NOT FCAT)

So, I am thinking everyday about the week long camp (thirty kids!) we will have here after school ends. Our gift to the community, everything free, these kids will have the chance to learn cooking, eat wonderful food, learn swimming skills, and spend as much time as they want with clay, painting, sculpture, nature studies. Parents who come will learn far more. I think this camp week will be hard for me as the energy generator. But we want to do it!

As I have discovered, there is more talk than action. I am disappointed with our politicians and community activists who can't keep their zippers up, can't keep their hands out of the till etc.

But still, I am a believer in the good that the good folks can do. All I have to do to affirm this for me is to know the teachers and staff at our local elementary school and see one kid, my grandchild, focus on learning what I am teaching.

Hey Mom!

When I call my oldest son, he always responds with "Hey Mom!". He's the only one of our three kids who calls me mom. And, in a tiny way, I find that quite wonderful. Yes, I know the others know I am their mom, and from birth it happened that our kids called us by our first names.

So, who's mom on this Mothers Day? I am proud of my three kids and eight grandkids. Being a mom has been one of my life's four great pleasures. (Spouse, mom, good work, friends- in that order)

My parents and my husband's parents were so effete and above it they eschewed mothers day as being a commercial Hallmark occasion so we never celebrated it. Times change. I think that mothers day is charming and a great time to celebrate our families!

My mom is dead so I do not have to think of flowers or cards ; I just think of her as I do every day, sometimes wondering what she would do or think or remembering her amazing literary knowledge she so generously shared with her kids until she died at 92.

I think of our newest Mom, the mother of twins, my beautiful daughter-in-law who this year wears the crown of our Mom-of-the-Year!

My daughter, single mom, has raised an amazing kid. Her partner (who could not call her Mom also?) has had great input.

So, tomorrow, our local family will celebrate Mothers Day together. Americans all, we are of different colors, religions, origins, gay or straight. We'll have a potluck by the pool, lots of kids will be there.

HAPPY MOTHERS DAY!

Gay Marriage!

It's about time! Having our president affirm the rights for gays and lesbians to marry is just what he should do. These things are not just about politics; it is the right thing to do moving our society forward to have equal rights for all.
Lots of us have gays and lesbians in our circle of family and friends and we know they are just regular folks, working, raising families, loving each other. They should be able to have the same rights as heterosexual folks. We also have heterosexual folks in our families who are not married but are partners who often are raising kids together. All of these people, married or not, are worthy of respect and rights.
We need to be an inclusive society. So many of our families today include people of all colors and ethnicity. And now, we can get those loved ones who are gay or lesbian or transgender out of the closet.
We are all human!
We all have a fear of the unknown, and we have fears about our darkest secrets. Sexuality is a continuum and in every one of us there is doubt about how we measure up as masculine, feminine or maybe something else. It is a comfort to have a minister or politician or shaman tell us what to think and how to behave.
With Obama's sanction of gay marriage, the dialog can begin.

Bounty of the Garden

This is just one corner of this fenced vegetable garden. All you can see here are beans and cukes (with zinnias for the feng shway). Each evening we have the choice from ten or more tasty vegetables: eggplants, beans, cucumbers, tomatoes, collards, kale, chard, mitzuma, salad greens, onions, peapods and broccoli.

My best crop is the tomatoes! This year I planted all ten tomato plants in large containers with the bottoms cut out. This way, the cut worms don't invade, and so far, there are no tomato horn worms. Each morning when I visit this incredible place there are ripe tomatoes- all heirlooms, and huge! The black krims are dark Harvard crimson, so juicy and sweet there is no comparison to what you get in the markets. There are striped tomatoes, yellows, tiny ones, funny looking ones - all wonderful!

I search under the leaves for ripe cucumbers and find dozens! I think about making pickles. The green beans are way ahead of me though I pick daily. Pickled beans? There must be fifty eggplants waiting to be picked. How many recipes are there for eggplant? Peppers are yet to come.

Growing your own food is just the best! It compares to growing kids when you go from all potential to maybe a great harvest. But growing a garden is much less fraught. You can dig down those unfortunate vegetables that never did anything; not something you could do with a kid.

All the critters here are celebrating the spring harvest. Bob and Emily, the resident sand hill cranes spend most of every day in the yard looking for grubs and worms, purring and hoping I will leave the garden gate open. The deer are enjoying the tips of the rose bushes, the new citrus and the camellias. The squirrels are enjoying digging up the seeds I plant. Raccoons are eyeing the grape arbor and marking their calendar to attack just at the point the grapes will be ripe enough to make jelly.

Last evening we sat on the front porch after the rain watching the rainbow emerge. At the end of it were Bob and Emily, oblivious to their good fortune of living in paradise.

Super Mom

We returned today from a week's visit to see our youngest grandchildren, the twins! On the plane there were a number of babies, no twins, and I thought what a piece of cake it is to have only one.

 Our luggage was full of sweaters still fragrant with baby smells, and already we miss them so much!

What a week! These little guys have not even yet met their formal due date, but they are plump and gaining weight before our eyes, and each day we were there there were new milestones of development.

What we did was to be the competent old couple who did support duty. The dad, our son, was in the busiest period of his work life, negotiating the budget late into the nights for the state of Connecticut, so we were needed. Of course the most important thing was the feeding of these two greedy little physical beings. Super mom is breastfeeding!

One baby takes over the house. Two of them! Yikes! The living room is feeding central with a crib, changing station, and piles of tiny garments, diapers, and small cloths and blankets. Rarely are they ever sleeping at the same time: they are squirming and making constant small rooting noises, farting and belching.

And they are so appealing! A girl and a boy, they look quite different from each other, extremely cute. I spent hours just gazing at them.

But then, there was the laundry and the regular household stuff to do. Shopping, cooking for the lactating super mom, and best of all, just holding them, my heart full of babies and their fragrant milky smell. I have always known that children are the enemies of concentration, twins even more so.

Their mom is amazing! Right off the bat, she's confident and competent and accepts our help so graciously. Somehow, she finds time to read to each baby every day and find good humor in such homely things as bath time.

We are tired after being on such duty for a week. I would not trade that experience for anything. (What will these kids think of us when we are ninety?)

Too old to be a Mudder!

Here is my daughter in the middle of a 'mud' run. She has just slid down a huge slide into a large puddle of mud. Her team of six ran and slithered and jumped and scrambled the hurdles for more than three miles. They all helped each other, as did all the other teams out there in the hot sunshine of a Florida spring. Many of them were in 'costume' with tutus or colorful headgear.

I love this sport where everyone helps each other out, everyone is laughing and having fun playing. We all need to do this! As I watched this happen, something new for me, I thought "I could do this!". And I thought that it would be so much fun to have an abbreviated course for kids.

We had the team and their clack over for showers and lunch after the race. Twenty minutes after they got home there were YouTube videos complete with captions and music sent out to everyone.

And I had taken some photos of the event and wanted to share these and some other photos with family and friends. The photo sharing site had completely changed since the last time I used it a few days ago. Like detergent, this is a new and better! Hard to navigate for a person of my generation! Who knows where those photos are going?? Into the ether? To Mars? And how would I apply a musical score to them (as if I knew anything but Mozart and Bach?) And are they important in any way, does anyone care beyond the moment?  But we all want to do it.

I read an article by Anna Quindlen in the paper today (Yes, I still read stuff on actual paper!). It was about getting rid of stuff in your life, but hanging on to memories. So, why do I think that my wonderful happiness in seeing those young people having so much fun is only true if it can be photographed and digitized, captioned and set to music? During the week I know that all of them work hard in great jobs.

 My husband is happy to go and observe and remember. He does not own a camera now, though he once was an excellent photographer of people and events. He has traveled the world, reads widely. We talk all the time, face to face, trying to make some sense of this interesting world we find ourselves in. We have interesting conversational evenings with friends speaking of issues and ideas, books we've read and places we've been. We rarely discuss our smart phones and other new technology.

So, just another blog from this old curmudgeon. I could do a (short) mud run!

Where is this all going?

What If?

What if we hadn't had any grandchildren? We were not the sort who ever counted grandkids or even thought about it especially. But, then, our children began having their own families and we were really delighted. Of course, there is something pretty affirmative about having one fourth of your DNA passing on to the next generation, but that's not really it. Our kids could have adopted several Haitian children apiece, and they would still be ours and part of our tribe.

With the birth of our latest grand children, twins, we now have eight! Who could have thunk?

What really matters in the relationship of grandparents and grandchildren is the connection. It boils down to quantity time. Most of our grandchildren live far away but we pay serious attention to our visits with each other. Summers we have grandkids visit, they come for vacations and hang out in my studio. The little ones come with their parents. And, also, we go to visit them where they live. The older ones come and hang out during vacations and our whole fun place is completely given over to them.

Now, on day eleven of his visit, our Florida grandson, Quincy, is still a peach! He's seven now. We have had his visits since he was weaned. We survived toddlerhood, toilet training, bad backs (ours!), teaching him to ride a bike, swim, drive the golf cart, and all the rest.

And now, here we have a long term small visitor who comes here so often he has his own room and a playroom with an incredible amount of stuff (Legos, trains, cars and any art material he can think of). This little guy knows our property better than his mom ever did and now that his tether is long, he can go anywhere he wants. He has his chores (emptying the compost, clearing the table) and he is part of the family. We have lovely long dinners, often with friends, and Quincy fits in, eats everything available and compliments the chef every time. We talk about everything!

When this child first began to visit it was hard for us because we had to be on duty every single second. Even at night we were tethered to the intercom. But now, here is this easy focused kid who has an incredible agenda.

And on this visit to us he was here when his two west coast cousins came for part of the time. He was the spark of activities and the three kids had a lot of fun together outdoors. An only child, he was sometimes worried by the sibling rivalry of his cousins he loves.

After the cousins left he has made a forest of paper constructions and origami, written a journal about pets, read innumerable books, constructed an amazing train set-up, practiced long addition and subtraction.. I am so amazed! He's been fascinated with the long chapter book we have read for the entire time he's been here. We finished it today.

Quincy knows that his grandparents really have his back. It helps that he has charm and already the best rudiments of manners. Goes a long way for a seven year old to always say please and thank you - and be presentable enough to take absolutely anywhere.

Tomorrow, his mom will come and take him home. It will feel empty here.

Never worked a day in her life

Sisters, let's not get our panties in a bunch about this latest campaign ridiculousness. As all of us who are moms know that staying at home with those kids is no easy deal. No question it's work. And, yeah, most of us have to work outside the home too.

I am seventy-one, a member of the "sandwich" generation. We were among the first women who were educated the same as our brothers. If we chose, we could compete on the same level (but not quite!).

Since I was fourteen years old, working summers picking cherries, being a camp counselor or a nanny, working in libraries, running a language lab, sexing mice and so many other things, there has never been a year when my paltry earnings were not recorded by Social Security.

We married young, had two children by the time we were twenty-seven. We were scrambling and frugal. My young husband, in the social milieu of the sixties, set out to be the principal breadwinner for the family. It wasn't that he allowed me to work outside the home. It just was the way our family worked.

And yet, looking back, I realize that we were creatures of our culture that was America. I had the kids, breastfed them, tended to their every need, kept the house together, cooked, paid the bills, attended sports events, drove everyone to swim meets etc. and went to work everyday. I remember going to the supermarket around midnight after my husband came home from work. I loved this time without toddlers!

The weird thing is, neither of us thought that there was anything peculiar about this arrangement! He came home from work after eleven p.m. and we had a lovely dinner I cooked together, the kids were long ago in bed, smelling sweet after their bath.

I never felt like a martyr. As time went on he made enormously more money than I did. Of course I had the kids (balls and chains to my ankles) But I always had the bottom line that if he fell off a cliff I would be able to financially manage keeping life going for the kids.

Also, I truly loved my work of teaching and being a school director. It was so involving of the whole family.

My husband and I, probably not at all typical for the time, really appreciated each other's work. When I quit cooking ("O.K., everyone. Today I quit cooking!") my husband took up the slack and now is a stellar chef and does all the cooking and shopping.

The most wonderful affirmation I have ever had is my husband telling me that he didn't really have a clue about all the stuff I was doing. And neither did I. Back then this was just the way things were.

Our sons are truly invested in what their kids need. Their wives work, and to make the families flourish, they pitch in equally. Biology is still a gate-keeper and always will be. My daughter-in-law, now breastfeeding twins, will return to a high-powered job. They will have to decide among what care-giving options are available. And, now in this time, they will make these decisions together.

Women have made steady gains to claim their rights. It is ridiculous to go backwards and erase contraceptive and abortion options. Sisters, we need to think about the global issues of work and fertility, and how we stand.

Kids everywhere!

At eight o'clock I am going up to the main house to get Quincy on his way to bed. This includes having a bowl of homemade ice cream, left over from last night, a long discussion of his latest origami invention, a lengthy bath (with the water covered in toys), reading out loud from our favorite chapter book, Mr Twiggs's Mistake (about a mole that grows to the size of a rhino.) Then, close the shades, tuck him in, kisses..

So, all that is done now. We are all tired after a week of my son and the two cousins from Vashon, an island off Seattle.

The three cousins, close in age, played and played, mostly outside doing imagination play with hamster voices and lots of running and jumping. Sometimes they played inside with board games and origami constructions.

For one of the days I was alone with the three kids and I was aware of the social issues kids this age have, jockeying for power and figuring out fairness. Exhausting for an adult, but necessary to address their concerns.

My son was pretty much on full time and did the dad stuff of taking all the kids on outings and cooked fabulous bacon for breakfast. He does not do hair or think about clean laundry! But I am delighted to wash my grandaughter's long hair and then fix it with the scrunchies we bought. The last evening I found sparklers for all the kids and they ran around the yard windmilling those lights and we adults loved it.

Being grandma means that I must be the one who thinks up good stuff to do, has a fun agenda, lots of supplies, and keeps the troops rolling. Grandpa feeds us all.

Other kids are so important to me as well. Here is a photo of Natalie working on her Pi tee shirt. She's in my special math class I have each week. These eight kids in our local public school were issued to me as very bright and needing more. How I love them! We are about halfway through a hands-on algebra program. Sometimes, we do other math things than this algebra program, such as making math tee shirts celebrating Pi and our new knowledge of how to calculate the circumference and area of circles. These kids are nine and ten years old.

Retirees who have no grandchildren at hand and do not volunteer for kids miss a lot, I think. It is said that kids keep you young- true enough. Kids keep you breathing sharply, bending deeply, thinking outside your box, and giving and receiving hugs and kisses and serious conversation.

I always want to have kids everywhere I am.

Waiting for progeny

In a couple of hours our oldest son and his two kids will arrive for a visit. They are coming from an island off Seattle, the farthest place from us on the mainland USA. I have not seen this particular family branch since last July. I am excited to see my son, of course, and I am filled with expectations about spending a week with these grandchildren I hardly ever see. Caroline, just six, is such a vivid and beautiful little girl. We'll have lots to do with each other. Her older brother Joe, eight, still kind of an enigma to me, may tell me what his interests are and we'll have fun.

We grandparents have been thinking about what will suit these kids we barely know. What do they eat? What will please them? We know already that we will not devote our precious days to standing in line in expensive theme parks, and we will continue to eat out of the garden. Quincy, our daughter's son will be here, and he is an old hand (My second house, he describes it), and he will show his cousins around. We will go and visit our neighbor's chickens, one of which Quincy has claimed and named Yoda. We will go out and look at Quincy's museum of bones and fossils. We'll swim in the pool, ride bikes down the road, fly kites, fish in the pond, make art in my studio, build Legos in the playroom.

I am so blessed to have all these grandchildren who swoop in and out of my life. I had no idea this would happen!

We have groomed the place, mostly for our benefit, and it looks lovely. If only it would rain everything would be perfect. It will be perfect when they arrive. Happy Easter or Spring to all of you!

Life in Paradise

We are in full production from the vegetable garden. Each night for dinner we have all kinds of salad. Now the tiny French beans are delighting us. We still have broccoli and lots of lettuce, but it has been so hot this spring, those will vanish soon. Who would think that the tomatoes are happening? In early April? The seed company was sure I would not need the many heirloom peppers and tomatoes until tomorrow. Maybe they do not believe in global warming. Good thing I bought seedlings locally.

Here is Peter, perfectly delighted at finding a Florida King Snake on the trail we were walking

at Cedar Key

last week. Quincy is keeping his distance!
And here are the twins, both home from the neonatal unit at the hospital. I can only imagine what chaos it is there at their house. Sleepless in Connecticut. Their dad sent me this photo of them under the blankets that were knitted by many hands, including mine.

Soon, we'll go up to pitch in.

I love this life composed of so many diverse adventures. I love all my grandchildren and look forward to a visit from the west coast ones this weekend. I love working outdoors much of the day and paying attention to the rhythm of the natural world. As I weed, more often than not, I am joined by the cows on one side of the fence who are looking for any leftovers I throw at them, and the sand hill crane pair who are hoping I'll leave the garden gate open so they can sample the lettuce. I enjoy hearing their companionable gentle purr as they forage.

Glass Half full

This is so far my favorite photo of the whole event. Silvio's face says it all for me. Here he is with his little sister, Valentina, still under six pounds, not quite a week old. Valentina's twin brother, Emilio, is still in the hospital neonatal care department trying to gain enough weight to join his sister at home. It will happen shortly.

I have not yet been able to go up and be the doting granny I'd love to be, but I dote from a thousand miles south. I crave all the photos my son and the twins' eldest brother send. Now the twins are almost nine days old! What a trip! Even from a distance. What I worried about most was my daughter-in-law who had such a tough time with the early birth, emergency surgery, etc. A million different scenarios crossed my mind.

But all is well, mom is producing enough milk for two! Dad is shuttling to the hospital on the twice daily milk run, wonderful maternal relatives are on board.

I am an activist and since I cannot be there I continually send things ( a huge ham, bathmats, orchid for the other grandma, a handmade easter dress (probably way too big) for Valentina, a top for the nursing mom, and a variety of framed photos. Tomorrow I will think of something else!

So the glass is very much half full.

The glass is half empty about where we are now in this country. Tonight, watching 60 Minutes, I was turned off by the pharmaceutical ads and the obvious political tilt. Hard to trust the media, let alone the commercial pounding we all get on T.V.

It pains me to say how much I distrust what is out there for such likes as me. I know there is another side to just about anything. I know that just about anything in the ads about drugs must probably be wrong and is only out there to make money for big pharma. I know that most Americans like me have only a slightly hazy idea about Affordable Health Care. What we do know is how such things affect us personally. (Yes, if Obamacare is overturned right now, you may be screwed if you have a serious disease or condition or require expensive drugs.) And none of us in either party can stand those relentless negative ads!

I do think about the basic philosophic differences between liberals and conservatives. We need to talk with each other. Do conservatives run scared and so have trouble being open to being supportive to an expanded safety net for the less fortunate? And do the liberals just not understand?

Silvio and Valentina and Emilio are going to have to figure this out.

And for now in this evening of soft breezes and bats and fireflies lighting up the night and my newest of eight grandchildren, my glass runneth over.

Talking to the younger generation

There are some people in my life, some family, some friends, with whom I have such easy communication access. We call each other and keep each other informed and we try out new ideas and talk our heads off. This is what keeps me alive. We do not keep count on whose turn it is to pick up the phone or text or e-mail. With these people sometimes it is weeks between communications, but we know we'll hear from one another.

And there are others I love who never seem to pick up their end. I wonder if I should just let this or that connection dangle? I wonder if they would ever connect with me again? But I could never just let that connection shrivel.

In the long life I have lived I have had many many friends of convenience and time, and they were dear and important to me and I treasured their friendship. But they and I have moved on in time and place. (I do not want to go to class reunions!)

Old people such as I (seventy-one!) know that our fifteen minutes of fame are over, and we have been invisible for a long time. (unless we give money!)

I know that so many young people for whom I have made quilts and time still think of me and have their time here with us as important memories. That is enough and a satisfaction.

We and the close couple- friends we have would love to have our children keep us in their loop. We have tried to raise independent children, and for long stretches they do not communicate with us at all! I think about this. Our own kids are like popcorn. For a time one or the other or the other keep us informed. Then, nothing. I hesitate to call or communicate because they are busy.

Hard to be connected and we must all work at it. Friendship and communication is not easy but we must always keep trying.

Seriously Grandma!

Here are the twins! They were born on Friday, four weeks early. Emilio is the smallest at just under five pounds and his sister, Valentina is a pound larger.

Here is Dad with Emilio. According to their big brother, they are "frisky".

Tania, their Mom, had serious surgery after the c-section, and this was what made me so anxious and worried I could have jumped over the moon.

But, now, a few days later, Tania is recovering, pumping her own milk, and spending time with the babies. The whole gang will probably go home together in a few days. Can any of you imagine the scene?? Fortunately, Tania's large family is so on duty at the hospital, especially, Rosa, her mom.

Childbirth is the great leveler. We women who have children each have our childbirth stories and memories. It is the sisterhood, and we never forget the details and we cheerfully share them with each other. All kids are born naked, bottom line! After that, every child is different.

Our exquisite pain of childbirth will be forgotten, but that moment of triumph will always be remembered. For Tania, who would have died in an earlier century, she is due for a purple heart at least.

This dear woman told me a day before the birth that she spent time sitting in a rocking chair and read a story to her boy and girl.

My son has been working on completing a new bathroom addition on their house so it will be finished by the time everyone comes home from the hospital - which will be soon!

While the birth drama was unfolding, Grandpa and I were on a road trip with Quincy (who used to be our youngest grandson, and now is supplanted by Emilio.)

When we got back to the ranch Quincy immediately went to his workspace and made birthday cards for his new cousins. Then we held hands and went out into the night in the woods to look at the fireflies.

A new week, new grandchildren, new people under my heart. How sweet life is!

Loving Rural America

The folks I see every day are the salt of the earth. Sometimes I see them as fat and ignorant and ill-educated. They are prone to vote for the likes of Sarah Palin and Newt Gingrich, if they vote at all. They haven't understood the facts of Obamacare and how much better off they are for it. They just do not want to have to pay for insurance. They do not realize that every tax payer is footing the bill for all the emergency room visits uninsured folks do. They do not really understand conservatism as the GOP defines it. They may have one issue: don't mess with my guns. They don't want government intrusion but they love Medicare and Social Security. Some folks think that intrusive ultra sounds for women going for abortion are o.k.

But these folks are the salt of the earth. As a person who attends many community development meetings and volunteers in a major way, I see these people who are just as dedicated as I am to making a better life for the unfortunate. These people build houses, get infrastructure grants, foster troops of girl and boy scouts, raise money for all kinds of community efforts. They do not talk of politics for the most part. They see a local job to be done and they figure out a way to do it. This humbles me for sure.

But I still haven't a clue about... anyway, we all speak of our gardens. Who, actually has tomatoes ready to pick? Anyone want some collards? Not.

Disaster at Quincy's Museum

A big windstorm blew down an ancient magnolia tree on Quincy's museum this week. The damage was not too extreme and we pulled the branches off the roof with the tractor. None of the exhibits inside were harmed. A mouse exited from under the dead armadillo. The roof can be fixed.

What a gentle life we lead here in our nature preserve in the Green Swamp! We constantly watch the peaceable kingdom of birds, deer, fox squirrels and so many other critters in our view. We tend our gardens and rejoice in the pleasure of being here and hearing the buzz of the hummingbirds. We wait for the chittering of the chimney swifts who will come soon to inhabit our chimney. The wrens are loudly nesting under the porches, the hawks are impossibly shrill, and at night the owls screetch and chuckle. Already I hear the constant din of frogs and evening insects.

And what a gentle life I have as a volunteer teacher in our local public school. I love my students who are so connected to me, and whose eyes shine when they see what is coming for them this day.

I cannot imagine how awful it must be to be an Afghan child in these days! From here this life they have seems so grim and scraping. What happened yesterday when a US soldier killed families is just unimaginably terrible. How can we think about this?

I remember when I was sixteen and traveling overland with my dad and two siblings in this area many years ago. No matter what my dad said, we kids looked at the life we saw, and we concluded that these people were so strange, so foreign, so poor, we couldn't connect at all. The faceless women whom we barely ever saw were covered with dark cloth and scurried around in the shadows. The men, as far as we could see, did nothing but sit in bars. Secretly, we called them "the drones".

It is really hard to understand such a culture. How can we expect that the average military recruit can understand, especially when some of these people are gunning for them? Still, there is no excuse for shooting whole families and putting them into a fire. I am not surprised that a US soldier could lose it and do such a heinous thing, though it is never forgivable.

Most of our military rank and file come from the lower American class. They have been brought up to accept spanking in the public schools. They think that having guns is great and might is right. They do not think hard about issues of kindness and trust. But,I also know that many of our military have done an incredible job of bringing a better life to the Afghani people.

That said, it is probably time for us to get out of Afghanistan. We can support them in what they can do to make some kind of country they can live in. The U.S. can't do this for them. We have different agendas.

So, we can pull the downed tree off Quincy's museum, but it's up to him to dust off the exhibits.

Just a fantasy, maybe?

I pushed for it in this poorest of poor public schools, but still I was given the eight brightest kids in the fourth grade. I am a volunteer! I proposed that I would teach them algebra. I had all the materials required; all I needed was some space and a time slot.

So, for many weeks those eight kids from several different classrooms appear once a week to do math with 'Ms. Molly'. Right on the dot they come, and with no fanfare, they get out their folders and their math materials and start to work.

We have one hour. I like to begin the class by presenting them with something intriguing that I think will expand their minds. I have brought such things as an interesting sound machine, Russian nesting dolls, a pedometer, a pack of cards or an interesting game. I give them strategies.

Then they are eager to get to work. By now they are easily navigating positive and negative. They are familiar with how algebra can solve just about anything! They help each other, consult, tutor, and rejoice in the amazing math we are doing.
We often speak to each other about learning styles. By now, many weeks in, we know who needs to be at a separate work station, who needs to know immediately if they are on the right track. (Ms. Molly, is this right??) I know which kids really work best standing up, which kids need to tell me something that happened to them before they can begin concentrated work. They always ask if I could please, please have lunch with them. They love it when I can because I let them eat outside and then spend quality time rolling down hill or playing freeze tag and they talk, talk to me.

And through all of this I am just free with these amazing kids. No one ever comes into our class, no one ever checks up, we have quiet in our space (which is usually a spare room full of extra tables, chairs and desks and vacuum cleaners) But for this hour a week this is our place..

My fantasy is that these kids will someday be really important persons in their communities. How can I make this happen? So far I work alone (and I salute this school for trusting me). I have never heard from a parent or from anyone in the school. Once, I corralled a teacher I know and showed him some of the work we are doing.

I am no Mr. Lang (the guy who told every sixth grader in NYC that he would pay for college if they continued on and graduated from high school.) We are barely up to the one percent, fairly prosperous but with many family obligations. We are saving for the college educations of eight grandchildren!

So, how can I even begin to make it possible for these eight gifted kids to have the vision of what unimaginable stuff they could do with the brains they have? These kids have few resources, some of them are undocumented. They come from fragmented families or working families who could never think about Harvard or Duke (if they even knew about Ivy League or equivalent) But they have brilliant kids! Hah!

I am thinking that I need to get the parents on board, start with a summer camp program.
These kids are NOT to be left behind! We need their talents in our society. These kids do not have helicopter parents who smoothly pave the way for them. These kids need to have a vision of where they can go and excell and put their mark on the world.

Somehow, I am determined to be part of opening that window for them.

Arrogance?

Here is Quincy, seven years old, beautiful and bright, the love of my life as a grandma, treasured by all. Sorry, Pope Benedict. You do not get it. Boosted fertility is a right we have now, thanks to reproductive science. Four of my (almost) eight grandchildren would not be here otherwise. These are wanted kids who will be cherished and cared for. How can this be arrogance?

So, we are now into such a crazy place in the campaign. As Maureen Dowd said in her column in the NYT today, are the GOP candidates now actually saying that sex is bad? I don't think that idea will actually fly, considering the hundreds of thousands of years of human history. Just look at any edition of your news.

It does make a kind of weird sense, though. If your political party opposes any kind of safety net or education expenses for kids, opposes parents who may be gay, tramples on womens' rights to judge how many kids they can take care of, maybe just have no sex at all. Could work? Aargh! Where have we come to?

So, back to Quincy (fertility assisted, gay mom). This little guy will be a major player in the world someday. His community loves him and cares for him and gives him models of altruism and competence. His family is colorful and loving.

Of course, I also think of those dark skinned Mexical illegals I know whose kids are just as fabulous as Quincy. And they would be considered even less worthy by our current GOP candidates who think they should be deported, and certainly not have a chance at a college education.

I am thinking of the Romneys sitting down to a Thanksgiving dinner. Would that magnificent table include family and friends of color? Gays? Would some of them be wearing head scarves? Would the feast have to include the dietary needs of everyone? I wonder..

Where will it end? And what is it about getting rid of Obama, the bottom line? What are they thinking? Obama has done brilliantly considering the cards he has been dealt. This guy is smart, humanitarian, able and inclusive. (is it race?)

So, my garden is great. The time I put into it is my meditation. Tonight we ate the first spring broccoli, lettuce to follow. A visiting large dog seemed to chase away the pesky squirrels for now. Got to bate the traps for the oppossums who are eating the oranges. The deer are still a problem, eating the pansies as dessert after the roses. The pastures are now changing to a wonderful green and there are wild dogwoods in bloom in the woods.

The Way it's Spozed to be

Every week or so I visit my old school where I had been a director/teacher for most of my teaching life. Today I carried in a bale of greens from my garden to give to the teachers, and a bag of yarn and crochet needles so I could help with the crocheted coral reef the kids are making.

As I entered the front hall, it was eerily quiet, only Gigi, the long haired cat was there sprawled out on a table in one of the classrooms. Up the hall, the kindergarten/first grade was busily humming, their guinea pigs scuffling in their pen, lots of writing going on with tongues sticking out, small groups working on various games. After greeting the class, I continue up the long hall, past the colorful paintings on the walls.

I have to visit Linda's room (and my grandson I haven't seen in a week!) This classroom has such incredible texture- all in orderly array. There are books, computers, games, pets, manipulatives, every kind of tool a kid could need. I can see that this group of second and third graders are now in the midst of doing individual reports on geography. This is their first foray into research, a totally new deal. Linda guides them gently and individually, sends off many directives to parents and encourages everyone.

But where are the other kids, the oldest two groups? I continue up the hall to the church sanctuary where for years we have had Shakespearean rights. Thirty kids are winding up the last scene of "A Midsummer Night's Dream", the play they will perform for the community in three weeks. I creep up and sit in a back pew to see what's happening. Different kids, but the same joy and teamwork. As always, I am amazed that such young kids can handle Shakespearean language and have learned all those lengthy lines. I notice the ones who have a definite spark, the ones who can project their voices. All of these kids, the principals, Bottom and Puck, the fairies, the stage managers, are consumed with this project of producing their play. Parents and grandparents show up to help with scenery and sets and costumes. Everyone is involved.

Just a few weeks back, these kids took the battery of standardized tests - and did well to brilliantly. These are just regular kids. But they have a lot more on their plate than just the fear of tests and the test prep.

After lunch, some kids went to a Yoga class, some hunkered down with art materials, some worked with each other on their lines for the play. I sat with eight kids from different classes who wanted to work on the coral crochet project. I am a total beginner with this, but I enjoyed trying to help even the lefties. During this time a couple of (parents? grandparents?) showed up, and they really knew how to instruct us.

In this school the kids just welcome anyone. Hey, we are a team. Let's help each other. There is such a warmth and texture of possibility, such a high standard gently set, what child could not be a winner?

Why, oh why, does the state of Florida set up our teachers for failure? (F schools!)
At Lacoochee Elementary School, where I volunteer and know virtually every kid, I wish the Florida vision for education would just let this amazing school run free.

Give this gifted principal the freedom to do what she knows will help every child be literate and strive for more. The spectre of being an F school is so unfair.

What amazing things could happen if every principal could make decisions without reprisal, just breathe in hugely, and be creative!

I'm a Believer

I am a believer in fact based science. Yes, things change as we get more information.

What are these cranes telling us? This time of year they are grouping in social (and very loud!)clubs on our property. Scientists are studying them, figuring out their migration and nesting habits. We may come to know the facts about what these elegant birds do. And we will come to know why it is important to protect them.

Scientists, it seems to me, are looking for answers about the why of being on the globe, and beyond.

This is not a 'belief'. It is not a phony religion. Knowledge about our planet and the humans and plants and critters that inhabit it can be known, and we are constantly making progress in our knowledge.

Global warming/climate change: Not a religion and not a belief system. Just look at the facts.

You thought this was not political! Climate change is not a religion, not subject to faith. It's not something to "believe' in. Or not. Just look at the facts. It's happening.

Santorum would be a major disaster. That's all I'm saying.

How to lose weight and be healthy

In this last year my husband has lost more than fifty pounds and he is now the handsome guy I fell in love with. I am ten pounds lighter. We have thunder thighs and no wattles on the low sides of our arms. We have energy!

So, here's how we did it. The key thing is aerobic exercise at least five times a week. He has a stationary bike he rides for half an hour, and I do fifty minutes of power walking/bands and weights (Leslie Sansome videos).

We do not count calories or do any kind of structured diet. What we do is cook everything we eat from scratch, even bread. We eat vegetables from our garden, no red meat, small amounts of fish and chicken a few times a week, eggs fresh from a neighbor's flock of chickens. We never eat dessert except for fresh fruit. We eat salad every day and this salad includes, besides all kinds of greens, fruit such as strawberries or oranges or apples, nuts, asparagus, or anything else in the vegetable kingdom. We do not use much salt.

Our dinner is an Event! Every night. The lights are low, candles lit, flowers, nice mats and cloth napkins. Good feng shay. I have even brushed my hair. We do not slap commercial things on the table. No ketchup bottles, no butter tubs, never any plastic.

We used to eat out a lot - banquets, fast food, take-out. Cutting these things out has made us healthy and thin.

Yeah, often I look in the fridge and see nothing (NOTHING!) to snack on. So I will grab a banana and think of the Queen- and how that Irish oatmeal for breakfast didn't last long.

Eating like this is super. I love my chef. Sometimes we have a blow-out meal with friends and we have an amazing dinner with a chocolate souffle for dessert. And this works!

We only really eat one proper meal, dinner. The table is set nicely and we eat and talk our heads off. I am not starving, I love our dinners, and I feel in great shape.

If We Really Care About Kids

Bishops and clerics and old guys in suits- sounds like the beginning of a ribald limerick. Unfortunately, it's not. These guys are weighing in on contraceptives. Yikes! Have we reeled back history?

Any woman today who is not totally marginal relies on the certitude of contraceptives, and we have done this for a long generation. We are not about to go back to the dark ages of barefoot and pregnant. Controlling our own fertility is now a right of women and we are not going to give this up (whatever those old guys in suits may say.)

I think that this issue is really about how we regard children in our society. A wanted and planned for child is so much more likely to prosper and grow. And then lots of families who cannot support all these children are desperate. The programs for kids are always the first to be cut, the first to be strangled out of existence.

These folks who see the contraception and abortion issues as "immoral" do not then look ahead to what kinds of support we should give to kids! No contraception, no abortion, and you have many kids who have no safety net. What are those guys thinking??

And then, of course, there is the issue of personal privacy and choice. Why are these old guys in suits (Mitch McConnell etc.) telling us women we should not have a choice in the most important biological aspect of our lives? I, for one, refuse to vote for anyone who for cynical political reasons would rescind my hard won opportunity of choice about kids.

Conservatism used to be a philosophy, and a decent one. I am distressed that now it seems to be about mean spiritedness; children are just pawns and drek in the political process.

Enough of this screed. I am off to the hot tub.

Baby Blankets

No question about it, I am good with my hands. I can sew, throw a decent pot, fix things, grow things, and I have made too many quilts to count. But for every grandchild I try to knit or crochet something (because this is what a grandma does?).
I am a terrible knitter! I have never properly learned how to do it. The only thing I ever knitted was a sweater for my husband, and it was the only thing that thieves did not take from our parked car. Well, who could blame them?
Now, many years later, I continue to try. My soon to be twin grandchildren are going to have hand knitted blankets from Grandma!
I bought the skeins of polyester yarn, so soft, so washable, so forgiving of mistakes. I think that these small covers might eventually be the "loveys" those kids will tote here and there and finger for a few years. I will embellish them with satin ribbons their small fingers will fondle.
As with all the handmade items in process- the quilts, the grow charts- I think hard about the recipients. For the mostly blue blanket I think of that little boy with the dark hair and brown eyes who will grow up while I can still be a part of his life. For the mostly pink blanket I think of his sister, not a princess, but so capable and smart. I think of their good parents and how lucky they are!
Terrible knitter that I am, still it is important to me to do it. I must confess that these blankets have been a shared experience. Many friends have contributed by knitting a few rows here and there, helped by casting on and off, crocheting the edges.
I know that these odd (but soft!) blankets might not be well received in this age of everything perfect and commercial. And this will be o.k. The point is that I have made these gifts and thought about these new persons and it has been a joyful journey for me as I thought about these children I am anxious to meet in a couple of months.
The very best thing about being in this stage of life is the sheer potential of one's granchildren you love without any strings attached.

News from the Green Swamp

Not a good picture. I took it in the last light of day when we had finished installing the deer fence for the spring garden. But the whole thing is now securely enclosed with the new sturdy fencing buried deep to keep out the armadillos, and with new colorful flags atop the fencing. My husband labored for a couple of days, digging the trenches and horsing around the rolls of heavy wire.

There are still many vegetables left over from the fall garden that didn't freeze a couple of weeks ago. Give it until the end of this month and we will plant the spring garden. I have ordered my 'starts' of many kinds of heirloom tomatoes, and I have the seeds ready to go for everything else. What a gift to have a man do this heavy work!

My brother and his wife have been visiting from California. They love staying in the little house where they spend some time reading and watching the wildlife and my brother, a musician, plays the violin. While working on the fence project I hear the sweet music over the pasture. This brother! How I love him! We are old now, but in so many ways we revert to the kids we were, best friends growing up together. He still twits and teases me in the old familiar ways, and I respond as I always did.

His wife is just the best in-law. I treasure those times once a year when we seamlessly take up from where we were the last time. We hardly ever connect between visits, but that is O.K.

The spring seems to be early this year. Many trees are flowering and I see new growth on just about everything. They are not worried about possible late freezes. I love the intense red of the swamp maples in bloom and the new flush of orange leaves, soon to be blossoms with their intense fragrance. The sand hill cranes are thinking about where to build their nest: they are flapping and dancing and throwing sticks in the air with much shouting. This year we have twin calves.

I hear that our soon-to-be twin grandchildren are doing well. I am working on my handmade gifts for them.

Life is good, economy perking up, politics still fascinating and weird. Hard to imagine in this balmy climate that people are freezing to death in Afganistan.

The Poor are Us!

No photos tonight. You'll have to imagine a crowded waiting room in our local medical clinic. This particular place was the lab center where everyone was there for blood tests and X-rays. I was there for a routine blood test my family practitioner wanted.

I was a walk-in at 9:30, but there was hardly a free chair in this windowless no-nonsence place. You go to the window with your insurance or Medicare card and they match it to the orders from your doctor. Then you wait to be called. Start to finish it takes less than an hour. I was prepared with the newspaper and some bills to be paid and my phone.

Every waiting room one ever inhabits seems to have a huge T.V. with Fox News prominately blasting, and this was no different.

The other people waiting were the usual dreary overweight lot who usually populate such places. Very old folks who were wringing their hands with anxiety, people with canes, youngish folks in tye die and flipflops, bald folks fresh from chemo, the whole range was there. No doubt all of them have an interesting back story to tell.

And then! The Fox news commentator recounted how Romney 'was not focused on the poor'. This room full of various folks erupted! Several people hollered out, "I'm poor!", "I'm poor!". I And then they had a full room discussion about this, kind of like the "peace" at the end of church where everyone embraces each other.

They spoke of having no income and housing was fragile. Fascinating. "I will never vote for him", most said. They recounted stories about how they had to get to the clinic on the bus and how long the journey took. Getting this bloodwork done was not an option, though they were poor. They did not know how they could pay for it (unless they were on Medicare or Medicaid, which about half were.) Romney hasn't a clue. A lot of them had already made the decision not to vote at all. But most of them were sure they were "poor". They did not feel they were in the middle class with some options. They were worried about about the 'safety net', though most seemed to be focused on how to get what they perceived as their fare share. Nothing complicated beyond getting the basics of life. These were not folks thinking about how to help their offspring pay for college or a PhD or law school.

Romney is way outside reality in America. I would love to have him (and tons of other politicians of either stripe) actually visit the school where I volunteer. He would see what "poor" is. He would see that this must be a true focus. These amazing folks cannot be simply dismissed because they can always be caught by a government safety net (that he wants to blast holes in!) These kids are every bit as bright and worthy as those whose parents pay $50,000 per year for their child's school. I will bet that the Romney family sends their kids to Exeter or Choate, never look back. And that's O.K. But, please call a duck a duck.

Most of the people living in poverty are kids! We need to pay attention to them.

Aargh! So much mean spiritness from our politicians, mostly those old guys in suits who are far from the issues of pregnancies unwanted or untimely.

I am over the top. Goodnight!