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!