Catching Up

Here is my math class at the Boys and Girls Club in Lacoochee this week. Angel, on the right, has just turned in his dollar winning one hundred points word. (Sweetbay). These kids are middle schoolers, and in this photo they look so determined and sweet. Even the room looks good! But none of that is the true thing. What you can't see are the kids who are juning around and flipping the math materials on the floor. One kid said a "bad" word (that I did not actually hear, but someone in the room did!) He's gone! What you don't see is the dreariness of that space and the other stuff going on there- the loud MTV, the pool games, etc. We tune it out. However, I did return after my car wreck and they were glad to see me.
Javier and David you can see working in the background are the stalwarts. They always come and they are certainly motivated, working quietly and consulting each other about the algebra. I do not know much of anything about them yet, so that day I brought a watermelon to cut up and serve after the class to the kids on the picnic table outside. As we devoured the sweetness of it they told me about what they read for pleasure. (They read!)
Then, later in the week I went to the used book store and picked up some paperbacks I thought they'd like.
After being with the little kids at the elementary school in the afternoon, I approach the middle school math gig with some dread. I turn into Patti Lane, dodging the dogs and kids, try not to see the detritus of lives gone bad, take a deep breath and get the stuff out of the car. But, then, I am there and it is all worth it.
I am thinking about the upcoming summer. I know that Javier is about to join the football team for high school and he tells me he'll be practicing every day. I don't know what David has in mind. I am thinking of ways I can get these two talented boys to be engaged.
So, I do these things with kids, and my great reward is the expression in their dear faces. I am planning to have a summer arts camp, parents and kids making art together and ending the day with swimming in our large pool.
I love this kind of volunteer activity, but also I need the time to work on my own stuff (painting, clay, quilts).
I have a new car! A Honda Fit- very economical and basic, but it gets from point A to point B.
Our harvest from the garden is bountiful right now. Cucumbers! Beans! Collards! Those wonderful new potatoes! Herbs! Multicolored carrots! Onions! Squash, tomatoes, peppers, eggplants are coming along. Lettuce is just about gone in the heat, but so far we have eked out a salad every night. The armadillos have discovered ways into the garden but mostly they have been foiled by the containers they cannot reach.
Since the wreck I have been here in the country-almost two weeks! In that time the hickory trees have leafed out and the wrens in the barn have hatched their eggs. A black racer has become my constant companion outside the studio. He stretches his length outside the back door, and then curls up in the leaves at the corner of the building by night. He doesn't mind my coming and going as I tend to the kiln and water the plants. If I get too close he pretends he's a rattle snake and shakes his tail. Red shouldered hawks are nesting in a tall tree back of the barn. Their young constantly call for food.
Back to the city tomorrow in my new car, renewed.

Can't get it up? (new rant)

Tonight there was an article on Sixty Minutes about gang rapes by basketball players on a college campus. Far as I am concerned, rape is rape, no excuses. This article was tastelessly followed by a commercial for some erectile dysfunction drug, so I was out of there, speeding out of the t.v. room, my pants on fire.
I can't stand the pharmaceutical crap that clogs commercial t.v. And I especially can't stand those ads for what to do about nether parts, burping, gas, feminine products etc.
And what do we really think about the way we deal with athletes who seem to have a free ride? We conveniently look the other way as they rape, shoot, fight dogs, threaten and steal. (Coby Bryant for one)
Perhaps the excessive male hormones are a part of the athletic expertise? But, does that give our athletes carte blanche to rape and pillage?
I know of several athletes who are truly philanthropic
and caring. These are the ones who are on site for the dedication of a Habitat for Humanity house. They have provided all the furniture and they get the kudos and their photo in the paper. But I am wary. Even these wonderful guys may be discredited. You have to wonder about folks who toot their own horn.
Greg Mortenson, the guru and author of "Three Cups of Tea", the guy who was supposedly saved after a climbing trip in the Himalayas went wrong and then got religion and started many schools in Pakistan seems to have been fudging the facts and the financials. I have read these books and was moved by his words and work. I know that our troops in Afghanistan are required to read his books. Seems to me that Mortenson, like so many others, is a victim of his own fame. You begin something amazing that works, then you get others on board who can raise money for the cause, then you write a book about it, and maybe tweak the truth a bit (because you really really need the money to go forth) And then, suddenly you are a rock star! No need now to hunker down in the gritty villages; you can get others to go out there because now you have a staff.
And all the time you think you are still following your dream. It happened so seamlessly.
So, everyone has the potential to be co-opted by circumstance. It takes major energy to remain humble (and ethical).
A corrective is to bike a few miles on the Withlacoochee trail as we did today in the glorious spring weather. So many birds and so many colorful wildflowers to be seen. No trash! Yesterday we joined some other concerned citizens to spend a couple of hours picking up trash along the road between the school and the RR track. We filled ten large bags, and anthropologists we are, we noticed that there were many tiny plastic bags, thousands of beer bottles, millions of snack bags.
When I exit my studio on the yard side I must jump over the black racers who are heavy into snake sex. Two of them are out there now, and when I go out they shake and pretend they are rattlers. Who knew? They seem not to have erectile dysfunction, and actually, the males have two penises. I carefully step over them and go out to watch the bats flying against the full moon.

Wreck!

Yesterday we were in a wreck. We started out the day on our way to a fine time at Selby Gardens in Sarasota. Before that we needed to let off the dog at our St. Pete apartment.
As we left the interstate my beloved old Honda Accord was smashed into oblivion by a huge Suburban. My husband and I and my brother and his wife and our dog were spared by about six inches from certain death. The suburban ran a red light and then there was that horrible crashing sound we have all known. There was smoke coming from the engine and we all leapt out, grabbing the dog kennel. You all know the scene: cars stopped, people getting out of cars and asking if anyone was hurt, witnesses coming up to give their addresses and phone numbers, cell phones ringing and responding, waiting for the police to record everything. And of course, we were all shaking to think of what a close shave this was for us. The dog, who had been safe in her kennel, thought we had come to a picnic and wanted to be a part of it.
Within minutes my daughter and her partner arrived from different points, full of hugs and practical directives. And then, you all know the scene, we waited for all the taking of Information, and we kept asking each other if they were really o.k. The woman in the vehicle that ran the red light was so distraught! She was not the driver. She told me that she had just completed two surgeries for breast cancer and was now on the way to chemo. Her head was wrapped in a scarf, she was thin and scared. By the time the waiting for the police to get all the details was over, I was hugging this woman and telling her not to be afraid, accidents happen etc. A bad day for all.
The rest of the day is taken up with phone calls to insurance companies on our cell phones that we can't actually hear well on and are so complicated because we, being frugal, have the minimum.. And later, we have a family supper under magnificent oak trees. We are spent and love the care we receive from our daughter and her family and my sister and brother-in-law.
Of course, if I had to do all this myself in a strange place, I could have done it. But, having this amazing family helping us was wonderful.
Today, having lunch with my best friend, who had her own family emergency this week, we spoke about the importance of our wonderful daughters.
When we returned home this evening, the power was out! Aargh!
You just keep on stepping one foot behind the other, pick the salad from the garden and eventually sit down to eat, and rejoice that you are all here, the bats are flying in front of the moon and soon you'll be in bed with the man of your life and the small smooth dog plastered to your leg. I thank my lucky stars for all this.

Swamp Rising

The water under the bridge is almost as high as it ever was. The Withlacoochee River is over its banks and sending that wonderful clear tannic colored water racing under the bridge and into the other side of the swamp. Hundreds of ibis are looking for food and alligators and otters have been swept out from their usual habitat. Our natural world is happy.
And so is my technological world. Finally, we got back our internet after almost a week. I hired a Geek (Alex Smart, can you believe it?), who reconfigured everything that had been decimated by the recent storms, and so, now everything works perfectly and faster than ever. Alex Smart is younger than my youngest child, devoid of any sense of humor, and incredibly knowledgeable about anything digital. He was alarmed at the hugely loud trumpeting of the sand hill cranes in the yard and he was clearly worried that his zippy Z car would run into trouble in the sandy ruts of our mile long driveway. As he finished up the work I casually asked him if he'd like to live here. So great. Here he was alone with a really old lady in the middle of nowhere. "Oh, no! I have signed a non compete contract!" I love these strange contacts! Probably Alex Smart sings in his church choir and does a few lines behind the sacristy. And visiting me was maybe the best adventure he had today.
My brother and his wife (from California) are scheduled to appear this evening so I have turned on the lights in the guest house and put out fresh fruit. Lots of family coming to this place that is so spectacular in early spring with the intense green of the fields punctuated by the wild galloping of the new calves, blooming trees in the woods, bats and fireflies, hummingbirds by the dozen zooming around the main house with the porches encircled by honey suckle vines.
This place is truly heaven on earth.

Fire flies!

Making the best of the flip side of paradise here in the Green Swamp in a power outage I have turned on the generator and rigged up the computer to the internet to bypass the router. Seems to work. The power company is working on the problems, they say.
I look out at the edge of the pasture and see billions of fireflies magically blinking beneath the occasional streaks of lightning across the sky. It is raining gently now, after the fierce winds of heavy squalls that rearranged all the porch furniture. Again there is the heavy thunder of more storms coming from the north.
I am happy to think that Quincy will be here in a couple of days and we will go out just before bedtime and drink in the amazing sight of all those fireflies that he has remembered from last year when he was five. Yesterday, in town, when I picked him up from play camp he spoke of wanting to come to the ranch, and did I think that there would be fireflies? Of course, of course. Grandma can do anything!
The world is a heavy place right now. Three wars! Africa exploding! The Middle East! Chaos and mayhem everywhere!
Just for a little bit of time go outside in the evening and hold hands with a small person and look at the fireflies, those benign creatures who must have been put on Earth to give us a little hope when it is most needed.

Digital World

I was away from my computer for a couple of days and when I returned, there was, among numerous emails, one from a young "friend", obviously on the Face Book game of Truth (or whatever it's called): Is Molly retarded? I do not go to Face Book very often, but I was intrigued and I followed the link and the thread. I am old and beloved by hundreds, maybe thousands of kids I have known. Of course they know I am not 'retarded', but they want to play this on line game with me. And The Queen is NOT amused.
I looked at the loop of questions asked in this game. They are not extremely hurtful, but I think that if a vulnerable young teen was judged by them it could be devastating! (Does X eat boogers? Is Y hot? etc.) They are being judged by their peers.
What are we thinking to let our children do this? So close to bullying, so far from kindness and generosity and responsible behavior.
Read the front page story in the New York Times about sexting. This is just a small step away from the Face Book truth game. The kids mean to be anonymous but they do not know that everything on line comes back to bite them forever.
Of course, I wrote on Face Book my thoughts about this disgusting and hateful 'game'. Got many comments, many of them clueless and wanting to tell me that they do not think I am retarded! They don't get the point. Others got it.
What a strange world I have found myself in!
Meanwhile, I am tracking a red shouldered hawk nest out back of my studio. The parents come and go, screaming at each other. Below that there are containers of tender lettuces and some flowers that in a few day will be a wild riot of color. The oaks overhead are mostly shed of their evil catkins that cause us to sneeze.
The antidote to the digital world is this place where tender greens of leaves and vegetables grow immensely by the day. I see that the fireflies are starting to light up the palmettos.
And also there are the several kids at the Boys and Girls Club who begged me to come in tomorrow to teach an extra algebra class. Who could have predicted they would have this hunger to learn some math? Even the ones who are so behind on math skills always appear. I give them problems they can solve with calculators, and I think they are getting something. The advanced ones come early,hunker down and check their answers with each other. I rejoice in this. It is supposed to be like this! These huge kids, who initially terrified me, come and come back again because they have found an interesting thing to do (and a crazy old lady who is willing to teach them)
The algebra kids know what to do! The others, who are still hanging in there, know that I will help them from wherever they are. This is so different from the Face Book truth game. These kids, from ages 10 to 14, come from different schools, they are different colors and ethnicities. They know that I will never ask anything embarrassing. They know I will always be there as promised.
And who am I? This is what I really love : these kids do not thank me, and they are not especially polite. But I see by the light in their eyes and their eagerness to come to do math that I am effective in their lives, and maybe can make a difference. For this I am not rewarded with certificates and plaques. And this is the best!
Hard to think about the disconnect between real life and the digital world of teenagers.

The Chasm, Again

No photographs today. My camera went through the wash, but is slowly recovering function. Kind of like me trying to think through the American stance in Libya. Maybe it will all dry out in a couple of days.
Bottom line for me as I think about American planes bombing Libya- it is wrong to kill people and wreak destruction. I know that there is much to be said about humanitarian aid for the rebels, and we are doing this. I cannot help thinking that the U.S. did not help other African countries in dire straits (who did not have oil!)
We want to support the people who rise up against their tyrants and we want to support their push for democracy. But we Americans can do this by providing only humanitarian aid - NO VIOLENCE AND DESTRUCTION AND KILLING PEOPLE! The Libyans must construct their own version of democracy or whatever. We should have learned this lesson in Iraq and Afghanistan.
We are today talking about the goal, the end game. Seems to me that we can take the high road and the American way and let the Libyans make their way on their own. We did it in the Revolution and there were so many bumps in the road, and still are. Do we think any less about these nascent democracies? They don't need the U.N. or America bombing them! They need to work it out on their own with dignity and the caring community of nations. The rest of the world can encourage by sending in humanitarian supplies. No bombs and guns.
End of screed.
Today I went to watch twenty-four children aged eight through eleven put on the Shakespearean play "As You Like It". These kids are the treasured ones. They are healthy and beautiful, beloved by parents who care for them. These kids have learned Shakespearean English (really another language), and done everything to produce a wonderful drama. They have painted the sets, worked on costumes, and of course, learned by heart all those many lines of script. These kids know that their parents are one hundred percent behind this endeavor. Their parents sawed the "trees" for the set and helped their kids paint them. The parents climbed up into the rafters of the auditorium and managed the stage lighting. The parents coached the kids with the live music, and the parents spent hours with kids working on costumes.
And the finished production was wonderful! After the last curtain call the kids came down to see me and I told them how marvelous they were and they basked in my praise.
It is so dispiriting in my volunteer work in a public school to get anything interesting going. I wanted to have a regular "clay day" at school for parents and kids. A small beginning. I bought a hundred pounds of clay and the tools and set up a time for the first day. We had many families on board. I hammered at the school to reply to e mails. In the end, it couldn't happen for various reasons.
These kids could absolutely do Shakespeare! They could make lovely clay artifacts! But, they are hunkered down to FCAT and I fear that they and their teachers are doomed to mediocrity.

Libya and my family

So, there we are, America again, saving the world, bombing the crap out of..what? Of course we cannot stand by and see this crazy man Gudaffi wrecking his own people and country.
This difficult situation makes me think of issues closer to home, my family. One of our satellite small families is having very difficult times with one of their kids. The rest of us feel obligated and invested to help. So we circle and give advice because we love them so much!
But, as with Libya, we don't know the inner workings of their lives. We can give humanitarian aid, send in forces, and advise. But really, we know that they will be able to deal with these problems because they are there on the ground. If we, the surrounding family were not there, this small and precious family unit would be able to deal with it. I must believe this.
In Libya, we are invested in seeing the spread of democracy as we have seen in so many other near eastern countries since the new year. But these countries are not all alike. I believe that we must hold back for so many reasons. It's so easy, but maybe not wise to be the most competent!
We went to Cedar Key this last weekend and loved exploring by foot and boat the wonderful natural world of spring in central Florida. We are recovering from the amazing cornucopia of fried seafood, glad to be back to our garden full of tender lettuces.

Everything getting easier

The pastures are green and there are many new calves cavorting around. The oak trees are dripping pollen and catkins and many wild flowers have sprung up. The hummingbirds have returned and today I saw the first of the swallow tailed kites circling overhead. Owl sex is rampant and we hear their loud chuckling and hooting every night. The vegetable garden is beautiful and about to pop up with a huge harvest. The asparagus is up.
We might have a light frost tonight so I have covered the tender vegetables with sheets.
I have now completed week five with the Boys and Girls Club math group. It is getting easier! This week, the math class was the last thing I thought I'd have energy to do. I'd put in a full amount of time in St. Pete, and then a long commute to speak with the community gardeners at Lacoocee school, then a couple of hours in the second grade classroom painting tee shirts, inspecting the science fair experiment (that lives outside), and reading a couple of chapters of "Danny, the Champion of the World".
Then, on to the math class, down the road past the side of life where folks are just hanging on. I get out the stuff from the car trunk, carry it in and begin setting up the white board and laying out the materials for each child.
Somehow, this place doesn't smell so bad as it used to. In fact there are several places (if I squint my eyes) that look positively cheerful.
Promptly at four p.m. ten kids appear. They are ready to get started. One boy, Javier presents me with a $1.00 word! Acceptors. All the kids have been working to come up with a $1.00 word. They cheated and copied and brought in words that were not exactly worth 100 points. So, now, Javier has found one. And I cheerfully present him with a crisp dollar.
Taja(Tajay), a very black and handsome boy asks me, "Ms. Molly, why are you here doing this?" A good question. I later think that he is trying to test me, but for now I give him my best answer. "I love kids and I love math and I think that volunteering is giving back from a life that has given much to me."
He responds, "But why should I be here? I am so tired from all the school work I did today." I say to him that he does not have to be here, and neither do I. He can choose not to be here if he wants. And of course, there is this chorus of voices from the other kids :"You know the rules! If you leave, you can't come back!" So, Taja squirms a bit but stays and settles down.
Javier and David are working on their pages. I spend a few minutes with them to introduce a new concept and they immediately 'get' it and move on. The others are struggling at times so I hunker down with them to explain. They are so needy! By now, everyone is able to see that they need to focus and stop doing uproars that tear all concentration. The low hum of meaningful activity is becoming the norm. We are all comfortable. The three wobbly tables in the pool room are populated with kids on the same level more or less.
Except for Saleem. This wonderfully handsome and winsome boy is twelve and still in the fourth grade. I gave him a calculator, thinking it might help. He was a child left behind, evidently. But on my watch, he, by gum, won't be left behind anymore! He's not up to this Hands On! algebra yet, but he comes each week and we are working on the addition and subtraction math facts. When the class was over Saleem went out smiling, tucking the new calculator in his pocket.
I was in St.Pete this week and spent time at my old school. The kids were coming to the end of rehearsals for the Shakespearean play they are presenting next week. These wonderful and privileged children, many with helicopter parents who support everything, are a delight to me!
But this huge socioeconomic chasm saddens me. My Lacoochee guys will have few chances at the brass ring.
But, now as a volunteer, just maybe I can help a few of these kids see their potential.

Pray for the Japanese who have been dealt such a blow, affirm the peoples in the Middle East and north Africa who struggle for democracy, and do not be passive in our own country and let the mean spirited and fearful prevail.

Technology

Spring has sprung and everything is is in full bloom and spewing off the pollen. We love it, but we are sneezing and snarking.
The topic of technology always surfaces in some way when we get together with our friends. How do you like your new i-pad? What do you think about reading books on Kindle? How's your satellite working?
Every year I try to master something new: write a book, learn a new language, catalog the wild flowers on our place, and technology is an ongoing engagement.
In our frugality we do not have a data plan for our cell phones, and so we do not text. Actually, I cannot imagine why I would want to text anyone. If it's important I can call. I do not want to touch in to anyone in great frequency to tell them I am in the grocery store or the gas station or the toilet. Because I am so old it would never occur to me to do this. I grew up in the age of pay phones that one could use if you had to. Now, there are none of these and you are connected to your mother and your friends at every moment calling or texting on the cell phones.
We have everything one could use technologically: three computers, an i-pod, two smart phones. Overkill.
Seems we were freer in those old days, not so tethered to the digital things, letting some time pass while we figured out what to do.
And yet, I am absolutely exhilarated to think that this new digital global internet age has made possible the revolutions in the middle east! It makes me suck in my breath in joy, revel in the way of young people who can now communicate around the world.
So many of us love our Face-book and U-tube and could not imagine life without the ability to e mail and twitter.
But for us baby boomers and older, we came up in an age when we did not have to be connected every minute. We can actually go to the grocery store and buy what we need without checking with some "others" about this.
This digital world is like having gnats or flies always circling overhead and checking in every few seconds.
By the next generation, they will all be comfortable and no one will ever have a moment alone and they won't care because they won't have known about the wonderful freedom of being free!

Why I do this

I love these Thursdays when I do my volunteering in the Lacoochee community. Here are Ta-jay and Ney-ney in the pool hall of the Boys and Girls Club. Ta-jay has just told me that he is African, but when I ask him if he knows from where in Africa, he draws a blank.
I love these kids! Ta-jay comes to my algebra math class faithfully every Thursday. He struggles with basic math facts, as do so many of the ten kids who come. After five classes, there are two boys who have perfect attendance and have zoomed ahead. Today, I spoke to all the kids about their achievement and what it could possibly mean to their lives. Of course, just being there means a lot. Many of them do not get this yet.
These kids do not have to be there. There are no tests, no homework, all I require is that they be there and try to focus. Today, a new kid appeared and I tried to tell him that we were full and couldn't take in a new person who would have to start from the beginning. But he persevered and kept popping up behind the most advanced kids. Next week, I'll probably relent and let him join the group.
So, why is this optional and pretty advanced math class taught by an old lady such a compelling thing to do for middle school mostly male loutish kids? I don't know. Maybe these kids are really interested in math, maybe interested in a creative sort of math that is NOT FCAT! Maybe they are interested in having a teacher who hunkers down one on one to really explain. Maybe they are engaged with a teacher who understands their problems and can address them. Maybe they see the need to have something interesting happening. So, they come! And I am there, predictably every Thursday afternoon.


And here are those lovely second graders, today eating the strawberries I brought from a local farm. Bernice, Kimberly and Elissa have taken a break from flying paper airplanes they have made and flown around the playground. All the seventeen kids have been joyfully running around outdoors, full of the wonder of the young.

I love this place where I am so affirmed by the kids who have known me for the last four years. They know how much I love them. There will be a few who go on to climb mountains and I hope I will be the person who gave them a boost.

Our hummingbirds returned today, right on schedule. What a good omen!

Always reading

When I got into town this week, right away Quincy, who's just six, wanted to read to me! He read me a page from his homework, very smooth and fluent. To me, this is such an amazing accomplishment. We were so appreciative of all the developmental milestones - toilet training, being dry at night, getting dressed, stopping the thumb sucking, riding a two wheeler, swimming.. But reading is the BEST! To me and to all our family, we know that to be able to read is the ticket to everything else.
Last evening I hosted our book club at our new apartment across the yard from Quincy's house. Quincy appeared in person, fresh from his bath, to have a preview of the apple pie I was serving as dessert to the book club.
We had dinner, the ten of us from 40 to 90 years old. Our book this month was "Huckleberry Finn", that none of us had read since seventh grade or so. It was my choice because of the press lately about the word "nigger", and also because this was a book I should have read when it was assigned, but faked it because I couldn't stand the dialect and the linear boys plot line. I much preferred such things as "Ben Hur" with the emotional content. My brothers loved Huck. So I thought it was time for us in the book club to revisit this American icon.
We really discussed this book. And everyone pretty much agreed that this book has little to do with what engages kids now.(Though it should!) They don't know about the history of slavery and the Civil War, and don't care anyway. But mostly, kids do NOT READ. Some of us in the book club have been instrumental in bringing Shakespeare into the lives of children. Is Shakespeare any more compelling than Mark Twain?
We think YES! So many of our students believe that the unit they did when they produced and acted in a pretty much full bore Shakespearean play was the best thing about school. The themes are universal and accessible, much easier than Huck Finn.
One of the book club women who teaches in a local high school, said that the kids never read anything and she is hoarse at the end of a day because she reads everything out loud. She also says that the other teachers never read to their students, nor, as far as she knows, ever read for themselves. This matches what I have learned as a volunteer in my local public school.
We talked about what the digital world means in terms of reading, and we are old in this realm. What do you think?

It's all about reading!

Nothing political, whew!

Getting to the last part of winter, budget season. This morning there was the usual frost covering the fields, and today there was the fog with the bare tree skeletons emerging, mysterious. Red shouldered hawks hunting rabbits, and the cardinals so proud of their breeding plumage. The newest calf thinks it is a car- chasing dog and runs along beside the car as I drive up to get the papers. Really, this little guy is purely ADHD, and I am glad I don't have him in my class.
I spent this wonderful chilly Monday being purposeful. First, Jane Fonda. Remember her? I am trying to be aggressively constant about exercise so I have these several videos I use every day. There's Jane, so perky, and still lively despite her hip, knee and shoulder replacements (who knows about the face lifts? But, hey, she's still good at seventy!) And on some days I put on my favorite yoga with Haris, and when I'm feeling plodding I just do the strength training with Consumer Reports Health and I get out the leg weights and barbells and listen to Diane Reem(sp?) And for a break I ride my bike up the road and look at the swamp. Each day I am aware of having to put in the 10,000 steps as measured on my pedometer. This isn't hard because I constantly move around the property with gardening, watching birds, taking on the outdoor chores.
Where is all this going? Well, I still weigh the same as I did at twenty. But! It's all distributed differently, mostly gone south. Maybe I'll torture everyone when I'm ninety!
Otherwise, I weeded out the asparagus garden. Soon those delicious spears will appear and I will eat them one by one, nothing left for dinner. I fertilized the roses and cleaned the pool deck. I finished cutting down the old stalks of perennials in the flower gardens. I inspected the vegetable garden and lamented that this was not the day to put in beans - too cold. The potatoes froze a bit but I think there is enough green in them for a come back. Not really enough salad greens for a meal tonight, but the collards are immense! I dread having to thin the carrots. A chore for tomorrow.
I still have 500 steps to go before I go to bed. On such a clear night with a bright gibbous moon I shall walk up the road and hope to see the bobcat.
See! I spent no money today and I am on board about frugal budgets. We must pay attention to the less fortunate among us and be large spirited. This is the American Way. Happy Valentine's Day to all of you.

To my grandchildren and others in this cohort

There was a time in America when young people such as you rose up on their feet and said, "Enough". Most lately is was over the Viet Nam War. There were demonstrations and conversations. You all know what the out come of that was.
You have not had to think about any wars because we have no draft anymore. Yeah, we put those stickers on the backs of our cars, support our troops, but for the most part none of you have to think about this business of war. You do not have to put your mind on what it means to be at war. And we are.
You have grown up in a culture of plenty. You have come of age in the world of easy technology.
The youth of Egypt and Tunisia have given you a model. You already have the easy access to the fruits of democracy, and now you must be responsible global citizens and make your stand. The world isn't just about the latest air brushed celebrity. It's about the hard realities of dealing about peace and war and the enormous chasm that separates the rich and poor. You have access to the technology to bring us together.
I hope that you, our future, will rise to the challenge in our own communities and states and country, think carefully, and give generously of yourselves.

Egypt

For the last couple of days I have this nugget of pure happiness that a country I love has managed to pull it off! I was, of course, glued to the media as the demonstrations unfolded in Egypt. This global world belongs to the young people. There in Egypt and Tunisia, maybe Algeria, Yemen and beyond we'll see the democratization of the Middle East. I was thrilled to see so many women participating, so many people connected via the internet. Those Egyptians, so strong for centuries, never trashed their treasures and infrastructure. There were so many wonderful moments and stories. This is a historical point in time. Egypt has been a model for the world.
Revolution can happen peacefully as we all saw. It makes the wars we have made in Iraq and Afghanistan look like a pile of garbage in our backyard. Of course, it remains to be seen how this will all play out. But for now, there is such optimism!
The Arabs who are making this revolutionary sweep in the Middle East are our future, our youth. They are Muslim, Christian, and whatever. I think that this amazing happening in the Arab world goes far beyond anything the diplomats could foresee. I think this push forward by the people can make much more difference than any diplomatic initiatives. The chips will fall where they may. Israel will have to react on a realistic basis, women will be able to connect on the internet, and Afghanistan may have to be left in the dust for now as a place that stones women to death, where corruption is rampant and they kill each other with some regularity. Let's put our treasure into helping those countries that are ready for democratic rule.
America does not know it all! We cannot be smug. Once we were in the same place and we were fortunate to have people who spent hours and weeks and months to construct a constitution that (with some amendments) lasts to this day and that all of us revere.
I devoutly hope that we Americans can all applaud the changes happening in the Middle East, and remember our own values. We are no longer needed to be the policemen of the globe, but we can be a model. We need to show these emerging democracies that we are not mean spirited but count on our government that has been charged in our constitution to promote the common good. We can show the world that government at the least is meant to take care of us. This is known as the civilized way of life. We all work for the common good, and we take care of the less fortunate among us.
And, also, the red bud trees are blooming.

All Potential

The empty table in my studio and the flats of emerging seeds are all potential, both awaiting development. The plant starts will eventually go into the prepared garden beds and, hopefully, bring an abundance of food for us and friends. The table will soon be spread with the many colored fabrics that will be another graduation quilt for a young person heading off to college, and who has given me his requests for the theme, the color palette and permission for me to add what I want. I love the beginnings of new projects.

Today I began the hardest project going on now. I inadvertently fell in love with teaching kids so many years ago when, as an art history intern at a museum, I was called upon to lead those school groups. I have never looked back. Over the years of teaching various ages in various places I have always had the energy to think about what it means to teach, read everything I can, try different approaches, seek opinions, and rejoice in the collegiality of the profession.

As a retiree, of course I do not want to get down to the gritty stuff each day. Been there and done that. (I have my quilts and my garden!) But I find it compellingly interesting to be a part of the current educational scene. As most of you know, this happens for me right now in one of the poorest schools in the nation; poor in income, but not in spirit.

Our new governor is cutting the per pupil funding, with more cuts for next year. He wants to grow jobs. I wonder how we in this state, in this nation, can grow jobs with the youth able to fill them, if we downsize our already lacking public education system? My vision is to have our president, our governors, our so-called statesmen put forth a HUGE program to get every citizen behind making U.S. education the best in the world. I think we could do it, but it doesn't include big cuts in education.

I am a frugal person by nature. I don't waste stuff, neither human nor material. Public schools waste so much! (One could save millions on this alone!) For example, today as I was volunteering to straighten up the classroom in which I work each week, I carefully sorted out huge clots of valuable math manipulatives, never used. Reams of copy paper are left splaying about. Many kits of this and that are shoved in back of stuff and others are lying fallow on the floor of the supply closet. There are no shelves of inviting art paper, and the only paints and clay are what I have personally provided. Books are everywhere, under tables, stuffed into nooks, crumpled up.

Is this the outfall of what the Big Publishing companies have wrought? They send all these FCAT materials and they keep coming and coming like The Sorcerers Apprentice. They aren't valuable because the teachers did not have the responsibility for them, did not order them, and I certainly see that they have no intention of using them. They are useless. (How I would have died for the chance to have some of these materials in the bare bones school I taught in for so many years!)

As I was starting in to make some sort of order in this room, several teachers gathered and all of them were dispirited by the marching orders they had been given to increase the numerical reading scores of their students. Interestingly, their task did not actually include real reading, fun reading, compelling reading. One teacher told me that he was not allowed to let kids (during reading time) to go to the school library to get books! None of these teachers 'have the time' to read aloud to their classes! These teachers could not tell me where I could look to see how each individual child was doing in reading. They knew, however, that the kids can't read well.

If those young folks in Egypt can make a revolution, why can't American teachers revolt? Let them teach, let them learn! All Americans, young and old, need to rise up and say NO to the grip of the publishing companies who for the last several years have dictated what happens in the classrooms across the country. This has effectively cut down our teachers at the knees.

I say, STOP! Kids are all about potential just as my plant starts and quilts are. And they are incredibly the most important.

No Sun

All day it has been overcast and spitting tiny raindrops that curl my hair into frizzy ringlets. This largesse also plumps up the resurrection ferns on the oak trees and paints the forest floor mosses in intense green. The pastures are greening up and new calves are on the scene. The pear tree is in full bloom with big thick white blossoms. Spring! Salad every night from the garden, and promises of more.
These days of thin sun are depressing. We need the full sunshine to feel alive.
At these times we revisit our thoughts about being here on the edge of the Green Swamp. How could we make a life being more often in our new carriage house in the city behind our daughter's house?
For twenty years or more, this has been a topic. I fell crazily in love with this place so long ago.. The ranch, 300 acres, the privacy, the visual plenitude, so many plants and creatures to know. And having my very own space, this studio.. just heaven.
Here, I can grow my vegetables and flowers, spend hours walking around in the woods and checking everything out. I can spend hours making quilts, painting, writing, and working on ceramics, and blasting out songs from my ipod, whatever I want. In my studio I connect to the outside world via computer and phone. My forays out are to connect with the local community where I volunteer and to see new friends. Feels like I have a purpose.
Since we left our work in the city, it's more difficult to think about what we could possibly do there. I always want to see my grandson and daughter, but they have busy lives. (Our grandson spends many weekends here.)
There is always volunteer work to be done there, but it seems right now to be so much less compelling than the work I do here. (I am not wanting to do more on boards of worthwhile non-profits.)
Lately, I have been trying to be present and affirming for my spouse who has health issues. I fall short, of course. We are wending our way. No sun, and retirement isn't easy.
Maybe tomorrow the day will dawn bright and clear. (Sally Sunshine speaking!)

Salad Bowl

This is really about a salad bowl, and here it is. It's not very large, just about the right size for two to four salad eaters.
This was given to me as a present from a graduating class of my students, and we have used it almost every day. It has the old and used patina of many wonderful oils and dressings. You can see the burned on names of these students around the rim. Each day when I bring in the salad greens to fill it I think of those wonderful kids who had been a part of my life for a number of years. I do know about some of these young people as they have wended their way to adulthood. Others faithfully connect. But I think of all of them and remember the good times had in the classroom and beyond.
And this is what it is to be a teacher- to love and care for generations of young people. And this is what I find so lacking in the schools I see now. Being a teacher doesn't mean that you must receive such a gift as this salad bowl that has decorated my life forever. It means that as a teacher you must have the energy and leadership and creativity to inspire kids who remember your message: Be Your Best! When your students do this, this is your salad bowl!
We are in a period when society doesn't respect teachers; government slowly and inexorably removes them from the rewards they should have as people who do the very hard work every single day with our children who are the future. For the teachers who are having a difficult time, we do not care enough to seriously mentor them. We just talk about ending teacher tenure. There are ways to tease out the teachers who are unable to perform.
This is a hard time in our country. We need to pare back expenditures. But I do think that it is a big mistake to reduce educational expenditures. We need to salute and empower our teachers, support them, pay them well and raise them to a new status.
There is no work as hard and rewarding as being a good teacher.

True Grit

I was uneasy today on my first day of volunteering at the Lacoochee Boys and Girls Club. I had been by to see it several times to donate stuff, and sometimes I do the drive by in this bleak neighborhood near the elementary school.
Noticing such deficits in how the kids are doing in math in the school, I have long wanted to do a hands-on algebra program there. But I could drum up no interest at the school (they are always consumed with FCAT procedures). So I took it on the road, just up the road, actually, to the boys and girls club.
Michael B. runs this place. To my mind, he's a saint, tall, handsome, black and with a beautiful voice I cannot imagine ever being raised in anger.
This club is located at the end of a neighborhood of small run down, hanging by a thread homes with yards full of the detritus of poverty. There are some large oak trees with chairs, benches and crates populating the beaten earth beneath. Everyone in the community knows what happens in these places, and it isn't a lovely community barbeque.
The clubhouse is a larger version of the typical houses, block construction, bare earth surroundings. But there is a nice playground structure and some picnic tables under a porch roof.
I enter and am immediately greeted by Michael and some of the kids. The after school snack of hot dogs is being served and I notice that the kids are of all ages from tiny to huge and they fairly represent the demographic of this community, African American, Hispanic, a few Whites.
My first impression of this place where so many kids (50-60) spend every afternoon is that it has no natural light, it's grim and grimy, and nothing is new and shiny. The tables wobble, the pool tables are patched with tape, the window blinds are splayed and disfunctional. Everything has the feel of being either half used up or resurrected from some sixties yard sale.
So, I am welcomed into the place where my visions of great math afternoons will happen. Michael has promised me a "helper", and she appears on cue. She's lovely and talkative and I know I'll like working with her.
Here, just an aside from Grandma. I have such a hard time with the modern names kids have! I simply cannot remember those names that are partially African, partly invented, have capital letters and apostrophes in strange places. Could someone really have the name 'Dimen'sha'? I probably heard wrong. So I hopefully toss my kushball at everyone, trying to elicit a name, any name, I can possibly remember. No use. Onto the meat of the lesson.
I arrange all the ten kids, ranging from about fourth grade through middle school, at the wobbly makeshift tables I have tried to balance with dice and I announce that there are only two rules: Bad behavior and you're out, no second chances. And you're out if you don't show up. The goal is to finish the course and then there will be a great field trip to see real professional math people somewhere. Their eyes brighten.
I pass out large envelopes with balance scales drawn on them. They write their names on them. I ask them to write the equal sign (hardly anyone knows what an equal sign is) in the center of the balance and then I pass out small blue 'risk' pieces I have pirated from our game at home. I hold up one of these and ask, "What is the name of this?" They look blank. "This is X", I say, "X is the mystery number!" And on and on I go telling them about how one side of the balance (equation) must equal the other side. I hand out dice to represent the numbers and I introduce the very first algebraic equation they have ever encountered in their lives: X+2=4. What is the value of our mysterious X?
"X equals 2", says David, a middle school student. He smiles, confident. Some of the other kids are scuttling around, diddling with their risk pieces, not sure what to do. Then we get into some more equations, and now everyone is paying attention, but I can see that plenty of them are not comfortable with addition facts and are working on their fingers. So be it!
One girl, whom I have known from other volunteering gigs and I wanted her to succeed, lost her chance by flinging dice at a boy across the table. "Time to go", I say. She leaves the room. They know the rules, and I have to be constant. Now everyone is really up for the next problem. We go on to several and with every success, the mood builds.
"This is fun!" say three of the kids. When they get the answer, they know! High fives all around. For this time the grim grittiness of this place is gone. I know that I'll be back next week.
When I am leaving the parking lot, several of the kids crowd around my car and I roll down the windows. "See you next time!" I say.
These kids, Michael, and all the folks who help out in the community are making a difference. Physical places don't look lovely, there is never enough money, but I know there really is enough love. I just hope that tea party politics will eschew mean spiritedness and policies that are just about "me" and realize that the safety net is full of children who are our future. We cannot pull that away.

Catching up

It seems we have so few of the glorious days of Florida winter we used to have. Too many freezes and rainy overcast days. My three sweaters are all needing a wash and the drying in the sun out on the picnic table. I am proud of being able to bring fresh vegetables to the cook without fail every evening, though we are down to rutabagas and brassicas and just enough salad greens for a salad. I have my spring garden in seed sprouting flats in the house where I can find some sunny spots. The entire orchid collection is still inhabiting the kitchen, lots of blooms, but I really want it all to go back outdoors to the orchid "tree" next to the pool. Maybe in a month we'll be frost free.
Thanks to all of you who send me your comments. I am glad that I can connect. I am searching my brain to come up with a more disciplined approach, but it seems I fly off in many directions- political, environmental, grandchildren, education. This is the joy of blogging.
I am thinking sometimes that I would like to address more of the issues of being retired (and getting old!) But then I seem to become immersed in my active life here locally.
So, here is a stab at it. I like being retired in some ways. I feel it is important to have a chance to do "another thing" and let go of the years and years of a compelling work life, leave that to the younger generation. I love having a freer schedule, though this is tricky sometimes when you have to decide every day over and over what you'll do, what you have promised to do. I love some of the routines we have at our house: reading the papers on the sunny porch in the morning, taking long walks, knowing that when I go up to the main house every night there will be some great meal awaiting only my armload of salad greens. In these few years of retirement so far I have gotten to know this long term husband of mine in ways I never knew him before. We really talk, we exchange books and this is far from those days with so many kids to supervise, jobs we spent long hours on, and not much left at the end of the day but procedural conversations. ("The a/c seems to be failing", "Did you pay this or that bill", "Can you do the car pool on Thursday?") Now, the procedural conversations are just a minor part of life.
I love having some moments just to explore my surroundings, watch birds, tend the ever enlarging gardens, wonder and marvel at the big world and the intense stars on clear nights. I love having the freedom to be an artistic dilletante and explore with all my art materials. I love my new life in this community, the volunteer teaching, working on community development with inspiring people I would never have met in my old life. I love making new friends. I love the connections I have with young people. I love having my grandson visit.
What I do not like about retirement is that I have pretty much become invisible. I do not love not having an income except for the pittance of SS. I find it hard to have to be glued to a calendar dinged with odd events in various parts of the state. To make social connections, it's all up to me- none of that easy sociability that comes from work. I don't like facial wrinkles and yes, I do feel bad about my neck. I do not like having to think about and discuss our health issues. I have the horrifying vision of us as really old and fixated on our symptoms!
I think we made a good decision that we would, for the most part, try living here. We have traveled some, but not as the main thing some retirees do. You have to flop around a bit, discover what you want. Moving to a retirement community, playing golf, going on back to back cruises- that might fill a temporary void, but eventually, you have to do a certain amount of soul searching, forget the chicken neck, and get on with a pretty compelling part of life if you're lucky.
Right now, I'm going outside to spend some time observing the bat house and see if I can see some big brown bats out there. Then I will walk up to the main house and find my husband and the dog warming the bed.