This is the last blog at this site. I have had a great time writing it over the years and some of you have appreciated it (or not!). So, I am off to be writing a double memoir with an old friend since toddlerhood. I will let you know where my new blog is on Facebook.
Our old dog died this week and many other threads of my life are coming together. The community garden flourishes, spring has come with many hummingbirds back and the swallow tailed kites wheeling overhead. The twin grandkids are turning three and the oldest grandson will soon be graduating from college.
I am still making quilts, still volunteering at the local elementary school.
Our place here in the Green Swamp is more beautiful than ever.
I am sick of contentious politics and still embarrassed by Florida!
Thank you, friends!
Friday, March 13, 2015
Wednesday, February 04, 2015
why I hate football
O.K. I know that grown men have cried when their super ball team lost on Sunday. Millions of Americans watched this gladiator blood sport. I don't get it.
Many years ago I would be so judgmental about this particular sport. Why would anyone want to watch people hurting one another?? Years pass and I learned to shut up and just observe this weird thing we know of as football. Of course, I would never have let my own kids play this sport. I was O.K. with soccer, baseball, basketball, tennis and swimming.
Now we know for sure that football damages the players. They have injuries that will be in their bodies and brains forever. We select the athletically best of our young men to spend themselves on the altar of football.
For many of our young men, almost always African Americans, football seems the best way out of poverty. I think that in doing this we may as well have been putting those muscled young men on the slavery block to be bought by the big business of professional sports. We send them to college first, and everyone knows that this is a farce because they are so ill prepared. Then they are bought by big business- the business of football. We pay them exorbitant amounts to play (and wreck their futures!).
But this is big business! All those ads! All the hype! Hotels and car rentals get big returns from the Super Bowl. Why are we surprised when our 'favorite quarterbacks' get into deep trouble with sexual assaults and domestic violence? Why are we surprised when we hear so often about our pro players cannot keep their financial lives together? Why are we surprised that such a large proportion of retired players have some kind of dementia from having their heads bashed again and again?
This so called sport is crazy and inhuman.
Many years ago I would be so judgmental about this particular sport. Why would anyone want to watch people hurting one another?? Years pass and I learned to shut up and just observe this weird thing we know of as football. Of course, I would never have let my own kids play this sport. I was O.K. with soccer, baseball, basketball, tennis and swimming.
Now we know for sure that football damages the players. They have injuries that will be in their bodies and brains forever. We select the athletically best of our young men to spend themselves on the altar of football.
For many of our young men, almost always African Americans, football seems the best way out of poverty. I think that in doing this we may as well have been putting those muscled young men on the slavery block to be bought by the big business of professional sports. We send them to college first, and everyone knows that this is a farce because they are so ill prepared. Then they are bought by big business- the business of football. We pay them exorbitant amounts to play (and wreck their futures!).
But this is big business! All those ads! All the hype! Hotels and car rentals get big returns from the Super Bowl. Why are we surprised when our 'favorite quarterbacks' get into deep trouble with sexual assaults and domestic violence? Why are we surprised when we hear so often about our pro players cannot keep their financial lives together? Why are we surprised that such a large proportion of retired players have some kind of dementia from having their heads bashed again and again?
This so called sport is crazy and inhuman.
Tuesday, January 13, 2015
Grandma in the digital world
After my garden club meeting today, at which we learned all about how to graft heirloom tomatoes, I stopped by the Verizon store to investigate getting a new and updated iPhone. The Verizon store is next to the feed store where I get gardening supplies and plants so it seemed doable.
I had done the research on the various phone deals; which phone would actually be best for me since I needed a better camera, which plan would cost the least. But I had put off doing this because of my frugality and how much I dislike the process of being in the hands of the young techies who are so smooth and fast, whipping their pointed thumbs across the screens and coming up with numbers that seem to change as I look at the screen.
My family knows that I am not good at shmoozing and hanging out, but that is just what it takes. I am good at hammering away at the bottom line.
The young man I dealt with was your typical young man who does this - slender, young, a bit nerdy, friendly. We discussed the various options of which phone would be the best for me. Though the biggest phone had some advantages, I couldn't imagine having conversations on a device as large as a toaster. So we settled on an older version, small enough to stick in the back pocket of my jeans and way cheaper, but was slightly bigger and had the updates to the camera and a few other marvels of technology, including a portable hotspot for other devices.
Now, I needed to have all the tremendous and untidy array of stuff on the old phone transferred to the new one. This required some passwords I have no clue about. No matter. My guy at the Verizon store, Greg, seemed to be able to do some work arounds to accomplish this.
All the while there was this multitasking chatter between us. After more than an hour I probably know more about Greg than I do about my own grandsons. In the course of the Big Transfer of data, Greg is searching Google Earth to locate my home. I am creeped out that Google street view is able to see our compound in such detail one can see our little dog squatting in the yard! Greg is fascinated with everything Dade City and is a foodie so we talk about restaurants.
Meantime, a number of couples as old as I am come into the store with questions about their old flip phones, and by the way, how do you turn this dang thing on? I am impressed with the politeness and warmth and patience these two guys in the Verizon store show to everyone.
By now, Greg and I are now old friends and we are trading stories about good restaurants in the Dade City environs and where the best hiking trails are. Everything from the old phone is now transferred to the new one. I will leave with directions for how to recycle my old phone.
When Greg returns home tonight, if he speaks of his day at all to his wife, will he say that this crazy old grandma of a person came into the store today, and knows about geometry - and she'll be my friend forever?? Who knows where serendipity will strike?
I love my new phone! It is almost perfectly configured and even easier than my last one.
I had done the research on the various phone deals; which phone would actually be best for me since I needed a better camera, which plan would cost the least. But I had put off doing this because of my frugality and how much I dislike the process of being in the hands of the young techies who are so smooth and fast, whipping their pointed thumbs across the screens and coming up with numbers that seem to change as I look at the screen.
My family knows that I am not good at shmoozing and hanging out, but that is just what it takes. I am good at hammering away at the bottom line.
The young man I dealt with was your typical young man who does this - slender, young, a bit nerdy, friendly. We discussed the various options of which phone would be the best for me. Though the biggest phone had some advantages, I couldn't imagine having conversations on a device as large as a toaster. So we settled on an older version, small enough to stick in the back pocket of my jeans and way cheaper, but was slightly bigger and had the updates to the camera and a few other marvels of technology, including a portable hotspot for other devices.
Now, I needed to have all the tremendous and untidy array of stuff on the old phone transferred to the new one. This required some passwords I have no clue about. No matter. My guy at the Verizon store, Greg, seemed to be able to do some work arounds to accomplish this.
All the while there was this multitasking chatter between us. After more than an hour I probably know more about Greg than I do about my own grandsons. In the course of the Big Transfer of data, Greg is searching Google Earth to locate my home. I am creeped out that Google street view is able to see our compound in such detail one can see our little dog squatting in the yard! Greg is fascinated with everything Dade City and is a foodie so we talk about restaurants.
Meantime, a number of couples as old as I am come into the store with questions about their old flip phones, and by the way, how do you turn this dang thing on? I am impressed with the politeness and warmth and patience these two guys in the Verizon store show to everyone.
By now, Greg and I are now old friends and we are trading stories about good restaurants in the Dade City environs and where the best hiking trails are. Everything from the old phone is now transferred to the new one. I will leave with directions for how to recycle my old phone.
When Greg returns home tonight, if he speaks of his day at all to his wife, will he say that this crazy old grandma of a person came into the store today, and knows about geometry - and she'll be my friend forever?? Who knows where serendipity will strike?
I love my new phone! It is almost perfectly configured and even easier than my last one.
Sunday, January 04, 2015
New Year, Old Dog
Many years ago, we invited a group of psychologists to come to our school to do workshops with the kids and staff about what it is to let go and move on. This particular one has resonated with me since then. I was directed to focus on the fact that people who are leaving let us know by being difficult. At that time I was dealing with the teenagers in my house who would soon be leaving for college - and they were just awful! They were telling me that it would be o.k. to leave. Our very old parents were hard at the end as well. They were telling us that it would be o.k. for them to leave.
Our old dog, Lola, is telling us that she would be o.k. to leave soon. We don't take walks anymore and she can barely get her hind legs to move. Sometimes she poops on the floor, and we have to carry her outside. We cannot really go anywhere because it is such an issue to get anyone to care for her in our absence. When she was younger, this was no problem. But who could ask a dog sitter to take on the geriatric issues of canine great age?
I remember this hardy little dog who ran with us on long walks and was the star of our neighborhood.We wonder how and when we'll know that her time is up?
Friday, December 19, 2014
Desperately poor and no way out
What I have been doing every day as a volunteer at our local elementary school could not have prepared me for what I experienced today. I have been reading to kids every day in their classroom. And I have been extremely critical of what I see as a dismal and uninviting place for children to be. I finish this semester dispirited that I could not have made much of a difference for these kids.
The kids clearly love having me come and they seem starved for personal conversation and connection. Most days, a fair number of the kids are absent - who knows why? Certainly these eight year olds have no control over the act of getting to school. So, how can they really focus on a chapter book and what has happened in the story so far? I am a dramatic reader and I choose engaging books but many of them squirm and twist and ask to go to the bathroom and pick and pat at every part of me as I sit in the designated rocking chair with the book we are reading. They quickly explore any bag or purse I bring and they perk up when I bring one of the many activities (crafts, food, origami..) These activities are difficult because every single child needs and demands personal attention as they try to do the given task.
I love these kids! For more than thirty years I was an excellent teacher of middle class helicoptered children. They had a solid general knowledge and by third grade had good reading and math skills. But here, this is not the case through no fault of their own.
In that dreary classroom with no natural light and nothing inviting, I now see it as a respite from the home life so many of them have. More than 95% of them are on free lunch and breakfast.
A few weeks ago I mentioned to the school secretary that I would be happy to contribute to any school outreach to families over the holidays. I have known that so many families depend on the Back Pack program that feeds families over the weekends. Then, one day, the school secretary told me that she had a family in need of a holiday food basket. A single mom with five children under ten!
O.K. I put together several large boxes of food with lots of protein, bags of rice and dried beans, applesauce, canned vegetables. My grandson got into it and contributed a huge bag of lightly used outgrown clothes and toys. After a major Walmart trip, we wrapped a doll and several gifts and clothes and games for the family. A lot of stuff!
Then the school contributed a frozen turkey! I was really reluctant to deliver all this. I always want to be anonymous. But what was I thinking?? This was not about me. This family just was desperate. So my husband and I drove the bounty to the designated home, and as planned, the family was waiting.
At first, I just saw an ordinary small block house with roses blooming in front. There were no piles of derelict toys and cars about. Only a broken above ground small pool and a tilted basketball hoop , nothing notable.
It looked like thousands I have seen driving by. The neighborhood was all the same.
When we arrived I saw several people in the car port, a man in a wheelchair and a couple of women. They were waiting for us. All of them were smoking and the air was heavy with the fumes. The mom, I guess, was about 25 or so and she seemed sad and had such a low affect, but she was clearly glad to have all this stuff delivered. A very small girl appeared and then we went in to put down the heavy boxes of food.
Inside, the space was very dark and crammed with large couches. In the gloom I saw a baby in a walker near the enormous t.v. tuned to something unfamiliar to me. The kitchen area was piled with junk. We were only inside for the time it took to deliver the food. But I saw the raw desperation of this life. I will always remember the flat expression of this mother of five. She barely could say "Thank you".
Where, oh where does one begin to make these lives better? And how in the world could I expect that the kids I read to, who come from these homes, could possibly be interested in watercress sandwiches that Lewis the Swan ate in the fanciest hotel in Boston??
The mom looked blankly at the frozen turkey twirling on my husband's wrist. She said she didn't know how to cook it. It was obvious that she didn't have an oven up to the job, nor was she about to try. I told her that she might be able to get a neighbor to help, and, hey, there are instructions on the wrapper.
So we chunked that turkey and all the boxes of food down in the terrible kitchen and left feeling that no gifts had been given either way.
As we begin the Christmas season with all the gifts and great food and wonderful family and friends I am humbled and grateful.
The kids clearly love having me come and they seem starved for personal conversation and connection. Most days, a fair number of the kids are absent - who knows why? Certainly these eight year olds have no control over the act of getting to school. So, how can they really focus on a chapter book and what has happened in the story so far? I am a dramatic reader and I choose engaging books but many of them squirm and twist and ask to go to the bathroom and pick and pat at every part of me as I sit in the designated rocking chair with the book we are reading. They quickly explore any bag or purse I bring and they perk up when I bring one of the many activities (crafts, food, origami..) These activities are difficult because every single child needs and demands personal attention as they try to do the given task.
I love these kids! For more than thirty years I was an excellent teacher of middle class helicoptered children. They had a solid general knowledge and by third grade had good reading and math skills. But here, this is not the case through no fault of their own.
In that dreary classroom with no natural light and nothing inviting, I now see it as a respite from the home life so many of them have. More than 95% of them are on free lunch and breakfast.
A few weeks ago I mentioned to the school secretary that I would be happy to contribute to any school outreach to families over the holidays. I have known that so many families depend on the Back Pack program that feeds families over the weekends. Then, one day, the school secretary told me that she had a family in need of a holiday food basket. A single mom with five children under ten!
O.K. I put together several large boxes of food with lots of protein, bags of rice and dried beans, applesauce, canned vegetables. My grandson got into it and contributed a huge bag of lightly used outgrown clothes and toys. After a major Walmart trip, we wrapped a doll and several gifts and clothes and games for the family. A lot of stuff!
Then the school contributed a frozen turkey! I was really reluctant to deliver all this. I always want to be anonymous. But what was I thinking?? This was not about me. This family just was desperate. So my husband and I drove the bounty to the designated home, and as planned, the family was waiting.
At first, I just saw an ordinary small block house with roses blooming in front. There were no piles of derelict toys and cars about. Only a broken above ground small pool and a tilted basketball hoop , nothing notable.
It looked like thousands I have seen driving by. The neighborhood was all the same.
When we arrived I saw several people in the car port, a man in a wheelchair and a couple of women. They were waiting for us. All of them were smoking and the air was heavy with the fumes. The mom, I guess, was about 25 or so and she seemed sad and had such a low affect, but she was clearly glad to have all this stuff delivered. A very small girl appeared and then we went in to put down the heavy boxes of food.
Inside, the space was very dark and crammed with large couches. In the gloom I saw a baby in a walker near the enormous t.v. tuned to something unfamiliar to me. The kitchen area was piled with junk. We were only inside for the time it took to deliver the food. But I saw the raw desperation of this life. I will always remember the flat expression of this mother of five. She barely could say "Thank you".
Where, oh where does one begin to make these lives better? And how in the world could I expect that the kids I read to, who come from these homes, could possibly be interested in watercress sandwiches that Lewis the Swan ate in the fanciest hotel in Boston??
The mom looked blankly at the frozen turkey twirling on my husband's wrist. She said she didn't know how to cook it. It was obvious that she didn't have an oven up to the job, nor was she about to try. I told her that she might be able to get a neighbor to help, and, hey, there are instructions on the wrapper.
So we chunked that turkey and all the boxes of food down in the terrible kitchen and left feeling that no gifts had been given either way.
As we begin the Christmas season with all the gifts and great food and wonderful family and friends I am humbled and grateful.
Sunday, December 07, 2014
Our Fifteen Minutes of fame, or whatever
When I retired from work nine years ago, it was new territory for me. I had worked every year of my life, and for forty years I had been a director/teacher in a small private school in Pinellas County. Each day was wonderful and full of challenge and great colleagues and the children! The ripples from my time there ran wide and still I hear from many former students and I take pride in their accomplishments.
In retirement, you don't necessarily become a non-person, but you do have to know that you could become irrelevant if you wish. You could play golf all day or sit in front of the T.V. And that would be o.k.
You could do something quite wonderful, quite different. You have the time and energy. I think of my friend, Richard Riley, who lives not too far from me in this rural community. He is also a retiree, from Maine, and he has been here as long as me.
Richard and his wife, Kathy, have carved out an amazing place in this community. Richard is a gifted photographer and he has set out to document everything that happens here. He posts his photos on Facebook so all of us who live here can instantly see what and who about this day or yesterday. He has been a major player in the community development of our tiny impoverished place and is tireless in every effort. He has twice taken on the leadership of the community development group, always making sure the agenda, minutes, plans, are perfect.
Both Richard and Kathy are so accessible to all of us in the community it is a model for any CEO!
Kathy's great interest is in the Garden Club and in our circle that grows the community garden.
Most of all, I see these folks as humble, trying to do their best, and being so effective as the glue for our lives here. Their ripples will flow wide.
Richard writes a weekly blog telling everyone what the upcoming community events are. He also includes links to the recent newspaper articles concerning our community. And, as a liberal Democrat and atheist, sometimes he gently lets his thoughts be known.
I think that the Rileys and I have that same sense of adventure about this later and interesting phase of life. You just find a place you can be and then do it! And it's freeing to know that you are doing it because you love it and find it important. No need, now, to consider resumes or awards or whether you'll get into Harvard or Heaven.
So Richard photographs the senior doings and the Girl Scout cookie sales and the food banks and everything else in-between. He keeps the local government honest, and he is always there.
Sometimes I see some of Richard's photographs that are so wonderful I want him to have an exhibit, or do a book (or become famous!). But, I deeply believe that folks such as Richard are in their highest and best place right now. This lovely man will go to his grave knowing that he made a difference, indeed, documenting and leading a community.
I keep on going to the local school every day to read out loud and make sure those kids have some practical skills. I hope it makes a difference.
Before I must fade away into an old folks home, this retirement deal is really a great time of life!
In retirement, you don't necessarily become a non-person, but you do have to know that you could become irrelevant if you wish. You could play golf all day or sit in front of the T.V. And that would be o.k.
You could do something quite wonderful, quite different. You have the time and energy. I think of my friend, Richard Riley, who lives not too far from me in this rural community. He is also a retiree, from Maine, and he has been here as long as me.
Richard and his wife, Kathy, have carved out an amazing place in this community. Richard is a gifted photographer and he has set out to document everything that happens here. He posts his photos on Facebook so all of us who live here can instantly see what and who about this day or yesterday. He has been a major player in the community development of our tiny impoverished place and is tireless in every effort. He has twice taken on the leadership of the community development group, always making sure the agenda, minutes, plans, are perfect.
Both Richard and Kathy are so accessible to all of us in the community it is a model for any CEO!
Kathy's great interest is in the Garden Club and in our circle that grows the community garden.
Most of all, I see these folks as humble, trying to do their best, and being so effective as the glue for our lives here. Their ripples will flow wide.
Richard writes a weekly blog telling everyone what the upcoming community events are. He also includes links to the recent newspaper articles concerning our community. And, as a liberal Democrat and atheist, sometimes he gently lets his thoughts be known.
I think that the Rileys and I have that same sense of adventure about this later and interesting phase of life. You just find a place you can be and then do it! And it's freeing to know that you are doing it because you love it and find it important. No need, now, to consider resumes or awards or whether you'll get into Harvard or Heaven.
So Richard photographs the senior doings and the Girl Scout cookie sales and the food banks and everything else in-between. He keeps the local government honest, and he is always there.
Sometimes I see some of Richard's photographs that are so wonderful I want him to have an exhibit, or do a book (or become famous!). But, I deeply believe that folks such as Richard are in their highest and best place right now. This lovely man will go to his grave knowing that he made a difference, indeed, documenting and leading a community.
I keep on going to the local school every day to read out loud and make sure those kids have some practical skills. I hope it makes a difference.
Before I must fade away into an old folks home, this retirement deal is really a great time of life!
Saturday, December 06, 2014
The Pinnacle of Beauty
Tonight I saw on Facebook a lovely photo of one of my former students. Her dad posted this on the event of her graduation from college. It was almost hard for me to recognize this young woman who is now so beautiful and composed. But I could see the wonderful girl she was, crooked teeth, skinny long legs, lanky hair, so bright. All that. I loved her then. And I knew she would turn out to be terrific. She has!
It is the pinnacle of perfection: a college degree, flawless skin and a slim body and so many options for her life.
I love seeing how these young persons turn out! I know they will have hard times discovering who they will be and what they want to do. They will get love handles and bunions and all the rest. But for now everything is perfect.
I do not want to punch this bubble of perfection, but I do agonize about the future world for these kids who have been so carefully nurtured, always empowered, always loved and cherished by their parents, teachers and the community.
Is this enough? Are we preparing our young for the very different world that is to be?
It is the pinnacle of perfection: a college degree, flawless skin and a slim body and so many options for her life.
I love seeing how these young persons turn out! I know they will have hard times discovering who they will be and what they want to do. They will get love handles and bunions and all the rest. But for now everything is perfect.
I do not want to punch this bubble of perfection, but I do agonize about the future world for these kids who have been so carefully nurtured, always empowered, always loved and cherished by their parents, teachers and the community.
Is this enough? Are we preparing our young for the very different world that is to be?
Tuesday, December 02, 2014
My Yard
I have not written this blog lately because I have been so busy with family and community and everything else. Also, I am trying to settle down and write about what I love, what interests me.
This is not about growing older, nor fashion, nor cooking! What really interests me is looking at all the natural stuff on our property.
These days I am fascinated with the water that comes and goes from the swamp to the river and back. We had eight inches of rain last week (all in one day!). It took a couple of days to see the back and forth flushing of the swamp and river water. Early mornings I drive the mile to get the newspapers from our box. Usually I stop at the box culvert bridge to check on the conditions and look at the birds. This morning there were dozens of wood storks, way more than I have ever seen on this place. Hundreds of ibis too. Do they text each other that the water is up and full of tasty things to eat? The harsh cackling of bird disagreement were everywhere! (or was it just plain joy?)This is the view from the bridge. Usually it is just a trickle of water from the swamp, but now the water spreads out over everywhere.
The birds are happy and so am I! This winter, so far, has been kind and warm and taken care of our vegetable garden and all the others. I went up to put in some time in the school garden today and picked a peck of green beans, some tomatoes and broccoli which I gave out to anyone I could find.
For supper tonight we had fried green tomatoes, collards, a wonderful salad of our lettuces and grapefruit. I love the bounty of the land!
Way after dark, I heard the cacophony of the sandhill cranes. Why is this? They are supposed to be asleep. So many interesting questions and so much to keep on learning.
Last week my son and grandson and I went out at night with our flashlights to see if we could find any alligators in the pond. We saw no alligator eyes but we did see some amazing bioluminescent points of light all around the edge of the water. Grandson thinks it comes from tiny worms.
This is the season I love best, early winter before the frosts when the mornings are cool, the days are warm and the nights are chilly.
Wednesday, November 19, 2014
Reading- Again!
It has been sometime since I last published this blog. My reading gig for four days a week in a public school third grade goes on.. I always thought I could reach kids through reading interesting books and I have thought that I have a sort of gift for choosing exactly the right books.
I am humbled. I have read a number of books out loud to this class - Road Dahl, E.B. White, "Mr Popper's Penguins, "Farmer boy", some poetry. Many of these books are a jumping off place for interesting conversations with the kids. In this class of twenty kids, some of them are gripped by the reading and follow the story. Many others are lost and are unable to follow the thread and do not yet have the imagination and furniture in their minds to do this.
Many others have spotty attendance so, of course they cannot sustain interest. And some just cannot maintain interest because they don't know the words (many are struggling to be fluent in English) and are so needy they just want to pluck at my ankles and constantly vie for my attention.
There are three or four kids who sit close to me and are truly interested. Out of twenty! Yikes! Most of the others fade in and out, roll on the floor, twirl, tattle, have to go pee, and have back conversations.
What really interests these kids are the "activities" I sometimes bring. They have loved the origami and finger knitting and making gods' eyes, and a penguin habitat, the making of p and j sandwiches from their written directions. These kids are starved to DO things!
When I come in they explore my bag and purse like curious monkeys because they know I will always have something interesting to share. They love it when I come in with a huge load of books from the public library. They love to tell me stuff and there is just not enough of me to go around!
Some days, I am dispirited and discouraged and think that it really isn't enough to bring reading to this (or any other) class. I really know that what has happened in the first five years of each of these kids' lives probably has set them on their life course. I must believe in the outliers, I suppose.
And I am dispirited by the gray doggedness of the teaching staff as I see it. Seems that there is this perpetual impetus to put those square pegs into round holes, i.e. THE TESTS! I see little joy or curiosity and for belly laugh humor I go to the custodial staff.
When I signed up for this I had little idea of the dailiness it would entail. When I make a promise to kids, I always keep it, and so I will be there until the end of the year.
And what a lot I will have learned so far.
I am humbled. I have read a number of books out loud to this class - Road Dahl, E.B. White, "Mr Popper's Penguins, "Farmer boy", some poetry. Many of these books are a jumping off place for interesting conversations with the kids. In this class of twenty kids, some of them are gripped by the reading and follow the story. Many others are lost and are unable to follow the thread and do not yet have the imagination and furniture in their minds to do this.
Many others have spotty attendance so, of course they cannot sustain interest. And some just cannot maintain interest because they don't know the words (many are struggling to be fluent in English) and are so needy they just want to pluck at my ankles and constantly vie for my attention.
There are three or four kids who sit close to me and are truly interested. Out of twenty! Yikes! Most of the others fade in and out, roll on the floor, twirl, tattle, have to go pee, and have back conversations.
What really interests these kids are the "activities" I sometimes bring. They have loved the origami and finger knitting and making gods' eyes, and a penguin habitat, the making of p and j sandwiches from their written directions. These kids are starved to DO things!
When I come in they explore my bag and purse like curious monkeys because they know I will always have something interesting to share. They love it when I come in with a huge load of books from the public library. They love to tell me stuff and there is just not enough of me to go around!
Some days, I am dispirited and discouraged and think that it really isn't enough to bring reading to this (or any other) class. I really know that what has happened in the first five years of each of these kids' lives probably has set them on their life course. I must believe in the outliers, I suppose.
And I am dispirited by the gray doggedness of the teaching staff as I see it. Seems that there is this perpetual impetus to put those square pegs into round holes, i.e. THE TESTS! I see little joy or curiosity and for belly laugh humor I go to the custodial staff.
When I signed up for this I had little idea of the dailiness it would entail. When I make a promise to kids, I always keep it, and so I will be there until the end of the year.
And what a lot I will have learned so far.
Tuesday, October 28, 2014
Thinking about Ebola
I am glued every day to page sixteen of the NTY because of their stellar coverage of Ebola as it plays out in west Africa and the fallout in first world countries.
With the exception of one case, Mr. Duncan, our first - and so botched- everyone who has been treated here has recovered so far. Today I learned in specifics how these Ebola cases are treated in such dire circumstances in Africa. Just the simple hydration of patients, the monitoring of electrolytes, the tending of other disease issues such as malaria, can make such a huge difference in outcomes. There is such a need for the basic medicine we can do so well here! There is such a need for more health care workers on the ground in west Africa! There is such a need for ambulances and ultra sound machines and all the small things our medical institutions take for granted. I read today in the NYT how the health care workers are constantly figuring out new ways to make their practices better. The recoveries will increase as these afflicted places get more resources.
We cannot imagine how hard it is to be doing this in the extreme heat and humidity of equatorial Africa, covered in heavy personal protection garments. We cannot imagine (in our comfortable lives) how it can be that so many Americans and other people have gone there to the Ebola region of west Africa because they have the mission to care for each person in the world. These people are our heroes.
It saddens me that a few politicians have made hay with this for their own benefit and drum up panic. Glad to note that our Florida governor has stepped back from this.
Several times I have made trips to west Africa: Ghana, Ivory Coast and with stops in other countries.
The images and emotions that stick with me are all positive. I loved the colorful cloth worn by everyone, the warmth of the people, and the feeling of safety I had everywhere. (Yes! Yes! I know how dire and cruel some of the civil uprisings have been). I loved the markets and the unending tracts of dreadful slums with their red earth slurry after a rain. Most of all I loved those people. I loved being in a tent with a head man of some tribe. As we talked I was fascinated with his elephantiasis of his leg, and I politely declined his offer of palm wine.
Even though the poverty and differences were so cuttingly clear, I understood, in some of those encounters, that we were in this world together. I loved being in an intimate colonial dining room with the university chancellor and I loved watching huge geckos climbing the walls, and I wondered if the spectacularly colorful wrap of our host would ever fall to the floor.
Instead of the panic, we need to understand. This epidemic will be quelled, but we need to help.
Especially here in the U.S. where a fifth of our population has African roots and provides us all with the traditions and warmth of African conscience, we need to get over the initial panic. It's going to be O.K.
With the exception of one case, Mr. Duncan, our first - and so botched- everyone who has been treated here has recovered so far. Today I learned in specifics how these Ebola cases are treated in such dire circumstances in Africa. Just the simple hydration of patients, the monitoring of electrolytes, the tending of other disease issues such as malaria, can make such a huge difference in outcomes. There is such a need for the basic medicine we can do so well here! There is such a need for more health care workers on the ground in west Africa! There is such a need for ambulances and ultra sound machines and all the small things our medical institutions take for granted. I read today in the NYT how the health care workers are constantly figuring out new ways to make their practices better. The recoveries will increase as these afflicted places get more resources.
We cannot imagine how hard it is to be doing this in the extreme heat and humidity of equatorial Africa, covered in heavy personal protection garments. We cannot imagine (in our comfortable lives) how it can be that so many Americans and other people have gone there to the Ebola region of west Africa because they have the mission to care for each person in the world. These people are our heroes.
It saddens me that a few politicians have made hay with this for their own benefit and drum up panic. Glad to note that our Florida governor has stepped back from this.
Several times I have made trips to west Africa: Ghana, Ivory Coast and with stops in other countries.
The images and emotions that stick with me are all positive. I loved the colorful cloth worn by everyone, the warmth of the people, and the feeling of safety I had everywhere. (Yes! Yes! I know how dire and cruel some of the civil uprisings have been). I loved the markets and the unending tracts of dreadful slums with their red earth slurry after a rain. Most of all I loved those people. I loved being in a tent with a head man of some tribe. As we talked I was fascinated with his elephantiasis of his leg, and I politely declined his offer of palm wine.
Even though the poverty and differences were so cuttingly clear, I understood, in some of those encounters, that we were in this world together. I loved being in an intimate colonial dining room with the university chancellor and I loved watching huge geckos climbing the walls, and I wondered if the spectacularly colorful wrap of our host would ever fall to the floor.
Instead of the panic, we need to understand. This epidemic will be quelled, but we need to help.
Especially here in the U.S. where a fifth of our population has African roots and provides us all with the traditions and warmth of African conscience, we need to get over the initial panic. It's going to be O.K.
Sunday, October 19, 2014
Plain Sunday
So, here is the new doll house I am making from a kit. It looked so cute on line, and I thought of my granddaughter who will be visiting here in a couple of weeks.
The directions are totally incomprehensible, requiring tiny nimble fingers and much flapping of pages. When we first opened the box, Andy, Quincy and I organized all the many pages of balsa wood and set to work. Quincy who is now ten and an expert Lego model builder was very helpful and his spacial sense is awesome. Andy, the grandpa who is a talented and experienced woodworker took the lead in constructing the basics 'by the book". None of us had fun doing it. I was just hanging back, biting my tongue, wanting everyone to enjoy the activity. After a number of burns from the hot glue, we abandoned the project.
I had remembered the wonderful doll house I had made from a kit years ago when our youngest was about eight. That project was one I looked forward to working on when I had a moment after the work day. When it was finally finished down to the roof shingles and the lights inside, we were all happy with it. It was a fixture of our playroom for years and finally just fell apart from the hard play it endured.
But this one is smaller and I am in a different place. As this one (The Buttercup) sat on the craft table waiting for more work, I began to think of how one of my sons approached model building. Chris was a maniacal model builder of airplanes and cars. They were plastic and required glueing that was probably really bad for his health. When he approached the task of completing a model, he just went for it the way he thought it should be. If there were pieces left over, that was O.K. And the completed models were perfect.
So, I thought of Chris and today started in again on the Buttercup. Who cares whether the door jams or the window sashes are inside or outside? Just decorate the roof how I want. Put the doors where they look good. Use lots of hot glue to keep everything together. Abandon those pieces I can't figure out. Think about how much fun granddaughter Caroline and I will have painting and decorating the inside and making furniture from the stray pieces of wood from the kit.
Doing this, I am not thinking of ebola or Syria or ISIS or fan issues. It is just a plain Sunday, a beautiful fall day. A gift.
Thursday, October 16, 2014
Hobos from Mexico!
"Molly, I am worried!" Mikela is wrapped around my middle and then other kids gather around connecting to any piece of me they can. "So am I! The hobos are coming from Mexico!", says little eight year old Eli. (The names are changed to protect the innocent.) Other kids look at me with wide eyes. Seems they are all scared of these 'hobos'.
I am thinking fast. What are these 'hobos'? It's unusual for kids these days to even know about hobos.
I ask them to tell me more about hobos. "It's something very bad and it comes from Mexico and it can kill you."
O. K. We're talking about ebola and these third grade kids I read to every day are reflecting the fear whipped up by talk radio and Fox News. They just hear it vaguely and respond to their parents' fears and the media frenzy and panic. In the three minutes allotted to me I gently tell them that they have nothing to worry about here. Ebola is still in West Africa, far from here. (I wish there were handy maps in this classroom so I could show them, but not..)
I am so old I can recall practically anything. I vaguely recall my parents' fear of polio, but it didn't affect me. My husband recalls that sometime during that summer polio epidemic in the fifties he had a high fever and his parents took him to the hospital. Maybe he had polio and maybe he didn't. In any case, he's fine. But that dreaded disease was on everyone's mind at the time.
During the eighties when AIDS appeared, we were all so fearful! I often contacted my grown sons (who are not gay) to instruct them about using condoms and washing their hands. Now, I cringe at those memories.
Yes, ebola is one horrific disease, a terrible way to die, and something to be feared.
Of course, we are all on edge. But rationally, we know that ebola will not be a real threat here.
We need to tell kids on their level that they should not be afraid. We need to tell them in a gentle way that nothing is certain or uncertain but they shouldn't fear. And we have to have facts or at least the latest scientific thinking on this.
We'll be O.K.
I am thinking fast. What are these 'hobos'? It's unusual for kids these days to even know about hobos.
I ask them to tell me more about hobos. "It's something very bad and it comes from Mexico and it can kill you."
O. K. We're talking about ebola and these third grade kids I read to every day are reflecting the fear whipped up by talk radio and Fox News. They just hear it vaguely and respond to their parents' fears and the media frenzy and panic. In the three minutes allotted to me I gently tell them that they have nothing to worry about here. Ebola is still in West Africa, far from here. (I wish there were handy maps in this classroom so I could show them, but not..)
I am so old I can recall practically anything. I vaguely recall my parents' fear of polio, but it didn't affect me. My husband recalls that sometime during that summer polio epidemic in the fifties he had a high fever and his parents took him to the hospital. Maybe he had polio and maybe he didn't. In any case, he's fine. But that dreaded disease was on everyone's mind at the time.
During the eighties when AIDS appeared, we were all so fearful! I often contacted my grown sons (who are not gay) to instruct them about using condoms and washing their hands. Now, I cringe at those memories.
Yes, ebola is one horrific disease, a terrible way to die, and something to be feared.
Of course, we are all on edge. But rationally, we know that ebola will not be a real threat here.
We need to tell kids on their level that they should not be afraid. We need to tell them in a gentle way that nothing is certain or uncertain but they shouldn't fear. And we have to have facts or at least the latest scientific thinking on this.
We'll be O.K.
Tuesday, October 14, 2014
Keeping on with the reading
What is really closest to my heart these days is the time I spend reading with the third graders in our local school. I promised that since I believe in the huge boost it gives kids to read aloud to them, I would commit to doing it every day except Friday.
So, we are well into October and we have read a Roald Dahl novel, "The trumpet of the Swam". "Mr. Popper's Penguins", some of Shel Silverstein's poems, some snake facts from the wonderful Florida series on nature.
When I peep around the doorway into their class I hear, "Ms Molly! Ms.Molly!" And I know they are eager. So am I!
I sit in a rocking chair and the kids get as close as they can, actually way too close! They constantly touch me on my toes and on my arms and tweak my earrings. One little girl, who has hearing issues, always sits very close on a chair and she hears my voice through the microphone I wear. A few times in the reading session I must tell the kids they are WAY too close, I need air!
Sometimes it seems that the little deaf girl is pulled out of our reading circle for some kind of 'intervention'. I think that if they just left her to hear the story from beginning to end it would be better. She tells me this by constructing and writing me fan letters. She is telling me that the reading I do is important to her. I want to tell those well meaning folks to just stop! Let her scrunch up to me and listen to the story!
I read with great expression and drama and I constantly make eye contact with this kid or that. When I get to a word they might not understand, I ask them what they think it means. This is where the most advanced kids shine. They have a vague idea and sometimes they are right on.
Some kids are hard to reach but they take their cues from the others who are eagerly settling down to hear the story. They see that this is something desirable, but I don't know if they have ever given themselves permission to just enjoy the story.
One of my favorite kids, a chubby hispanic kid who is clearly new to English often sidles up to me to ask for library books that he knows I will be getting in the local library.
These kids are starved for experiences and conversation!
Fortunately, this third grade has a wonderful, warm, and organized teacher. She took a flier to include me as an everyday volunteer. She may not be a voracious reader herself, but she gets it about reading.
These kids, eight and nine, are not yet the kind of readers who devour a book a night, but I am thinking I can nudge them along on this trajectory.
In this school, one of many in our county, they have no dedicated librarian, and it shows! So, I check out many books from our town library for this class. The school library is pretty sparse and there is no one there like Michelle Martinez who knew the wants of every student. Ah, well..
More to come.
So, we are well into October and we have read a Roald Dahl novel, "The trumpet of the Swam". "Mr. Popper's Penguins", some of Shel Silverstein's poems, some snake facts from the wonderful Florida series on nature.
When I peep around the doorway into their class I hear, "Ms Molly! Ms.Molly!" And I know they are eager. So am I!
I sit in a rocking chair and the kids get as close as they can, actually way too close! They constantly touch me on my toes and on my arms and tweak my earrings. One little girl, who has hearing issues, always sits very close on a chair and she hears my voice through the microphone I wear. A few times in the reading session I must tell the kids they are WAY too close, I need air!
Sometimes it seems that the little deaf girl is pulled out of our reading circle for some kind of 'intervention'. I think that if they just left her to hear the story from beginning to end it would be better. She tells me this by constructing and writing me fan letters. She is telling me that the reading I do is important to her. I want to tell those well meaning folks to just stop! Let her scrunch up to me and listen to the story!
I read with great expression and drama and I constantly make eye contact with this kid or that. When I get to a word they might not understand, I ask them what they think it means. This is where the most advanced kids shine. They have a vague idea and sometimes they are right on.
Some kids are hard to reach but they take their cues from the others who are eagerly settling down to hear the story. They see that this is something desirable, but I don't know if they have ever given themselves permission to just enjoy the story.
One of my favorite kids, a chubby hispanic kid who is clearly new to English often sidles up to me to ask for library books that he knows I will be getting in the local library.
These kids are starved for experiences and conversation!
Fortunately, this third grade has a wonderful, warm, and organized teacher. She took a flier to include me as an everyday volunteer. She may not be a voracious reader herself, but she gets it about reading.
These kids, eight and nine, are not yet the kind of readers who devour a book a night, but I am thinking I can nudge them along on this trajectory.
In this school, one of many in our county, they have no dedicated librarian, and it shows! So, I check out many books from our town library for this class. The school library is pretty sparse and there is no one there like Michelle Martinez who knew the wants of every student. Ah, well..
More to come.
Thursday, September 25, 2014
Kids in my Life!
When I decided to be the 'reading lady' to a public school third grade, I knew that this was an everyday affair. The school is a fifteen minute drive from my house, so the half hour I spend there each day, an hour all told, has just become my habit.
Here the kids are showing the swans they made in art class because they were so intrigued with e.b. White's "The Trumpet of the Swan".
I love my afternoons reading to these kids! I love how connected they are to the story and how they remember from one day to the next. And I must confess, I love the closeness and the smell and the dimples of them as they draw close to the rocking chair from which I read. I love the brightness of their eyes as they contribute to the discussion of what is happening in the book. And I love the unexpected things that happen.
When the kids made the cut out swans, one child, who I think is not yet steady in English, made an origami swan-such a perfect one! He gave this to me and I was honored. The next day, when I took the books back to the library, I checked out a few about origami and brought them to this class along with some squares of good origami paper to give him.
The next day, Alejandro had taught everyone how to make origami swans! Of course I had to do an uproar of telling them that I knew how to make an origami bumble bee (I learned when I was seven and it is still one of my best skills!) After the reading, the best part, I quickly made an origami bumble bee, crowded around by many sweaty little bodies who should have been doing what is usually expected, and I gave it to their wonderful teacher who puts up with my playfulness.
Sometimes I wonder if anyone in these public schools has time for THE TEACHABLE MOMENT? They are so consumed with the requirements of the Florida Standards or whatever they call it.
But "my" teacher is different. In her quiet, warm, yet authoritarian way, she makes all her kids comfortable. I notice how respectful she is to kids. Without fanfare she made a program so that her students could take home the library books I provide, and I never have to wonder (or pay the fines!) for these books.
One time when I went in to read I was wearing my Tai Chi shirt because I had that class next. One boy said that he was in martial arts also and we chatted a bit. He told me that he had a lot of trophies in Tai Kwan Do and he wanted to show me them. So, today, as promised, he had a box of faux gold trophies!
Another kid from the Jr. Garden Club has promised to bring his pet snake next Wednesday. Yikes! (He doesn't think it is a python.)
I am loving being a fun, fit old lady - and the kids are the best of it.
Sunday, September 21, 2014
Community Quilt
I first made acquaintance with him in the community development meetings where we hammered out a plan to remake this place. He always had good ideas and stellar connections and he listened to us all and helped us all make the connections we needed to go forward. I always left those meetings completely energized.
This guy comes from a very different place from me! On Facebook I often take him on (respectfully, of course). And we have discussions.. Dave is a gun guy, has built himself an over the top man cave, doesn't see the need for organic gardening. Probably votes GOP. O.K. This gentle giant takes his boy scouts to the mountains and to far cities. He works for the Boys and Girls Club in so many ways. He makes sure that the folks who live here in their poverty stricken homes have the chance to improve their lot. He collects bicycles to give away at the Christmas parties and he heads up the Empty Bowls program for the needy.
When I sometimes think that Republicans are generally a mean spirited lot, such folks as Dave Hink and Wilton Simpson come to mind as correctives.
I am humbled. I believe that when communities come together we can achieve anything! We are all colors, from every socioeconomic class, and we can truly make a difference.
Monday, September 08, 2014
Back to Grandma! Who is now reading to kids.
Well. I tried writing something different. Turns out that I am really not interested in my own aging process. Suffice to say that it goes on. So don't look for anymore on Still Spry blog. (How do I get it off Facebook?)
What I am always interested in is the usual stuff: politics, education and life in our nature preserve.
On Common Core! This school year I am doing a daily read aloud to a third grade. This is going very well and the kids love it. At first I was given a ten minute slot and it has now segued into about twenty-five minutes. I have always beaten the drum about how research shows that if you read to kids, especially from when they are very small, it pays more dividends educationally than anything else you can do.
So, I made the promise that I would go in every day and read to kids. We have already finished a Roald Dahl book and we are now about halfway through "The Trumpet of the Swan". This isn't easy for a lot of the kids in the group. Some of them are unfamiliar with English and struggle every day. Many of them have no background knowledge, no velcro on which to hang new ideas in their minds. They do not know what Canada is, or where it might be located on the globe. There is no map in the classroom, just one pre-school type globe. They have never been to a zoo or listened to an orchestra.
These kids in this particular classroom have a great teacher who keeps order and pays attention.
When I arrive, the kids are ready, eager and attentive. A few of them are clearly following the story and love my infrequent asides about bird imprinting or how cold it is in Canada. Most of the others are willing to try but they can't always follow.
But this is a process, and before we know it, those kids will all be on board with the read aloud time.
Today, the regular teacher was not there. There was a substitute. (Not going there.) While I was waiting for the few minutes until my group arrived, I observed the training seminar that was going on about Common Core teaching of the standards. My heart sank as I listened to a woman telling the teachers in attendance that they should consider the two cultures, European and Native American and how each group responded. Then, have the kids read the texts in the textbook (courtesy of major publishing houses) and tell in two paragraphs, with evidence! what happened.
I am thinking of the kids I know at this school. They have no idea where Europe is, let alone how Europeans got here, and they see no reason to care about this.
I am thinking that if you give kids mostly experiential education, they will take away a lot of cultural knowledge. I remember how compelling it was for my students to excavate and find Indian artifacts, and then try their hand at chipping stone axes with flint. I remember how compelling it was for my students to try and live like pioneers for a few days.
I think that a one size-fits-all plan such as the Common Core is a misguided notion for our very non-heterogenous society. This is just another panacea and in a few years of more crippling testing, another scheme will appear as the white knight on the horizon.
I take such comfort in growing our school garden. A kid catches and holds in her hands a tiny lizard and we all look at it. What kind of animal is this? It lays eggs- here's one just under the mulch- but clearly it is not a bird. So you take the moment to briefly explain and some kids will retain the science of it and pass it on. We plant bean seeds and come back to see how they have sprouted, marveling at the twin first leaves of a cotyledon. Later, we'll pick our vegetables, cook them, and relish the fresh deliciousness of our hard work. Probably, there is a Common Core textbook with desiccated text about seeds. (test coming up!)
The last hummingbird left right on schedule on September 4th. I miss those busy little creatures who have entertained us all summer. The goldenrod and the blue curls are in abundance, and in the markets there are beautiful chrysanthemums to replace the dwindling pentas and vincas of summer. The moon is full, and if I watched long enough, I would see the fall migration, flying free, drafting each other on their way south.
If only it would cool off!
What I am always interested in is the usual stuff: politics, education and life in our nature preserve.
On Common Core! This school year I am doing a daily read aloud to a third grade. This is going very well and the kids love it. At first I was given a ten minute slot and it has now segued into about twenty-five minutes. I have always beaten the drum about how research shows that if you read to kids, especially from when they are very small, it pays more dividends educationally than anything else you can do.
So, I made the promise that I would go in every day and read to kids. We have already finished a Roald Dahl book and we are now about halfway through "The Trumpet of the Swan". This isn't easy for a lot of the kids in the group. Some of them are unfamiliar with English and struggle every day. Many of them have no background knowledge, no velcro on which to hang new ideas in their minds. They do not know what Canada is, or where it might be located on the globe. There is no map in the classroom, just one pre-school type globe. They have never been to a zoo or listened to an orchestra.
These kids in this particular classroom have a great teacher who keeps order and pays attention.
When I arrive, the kids are ready, eager and attentive. A few of them are clearly following the story and love my infrequent asides about bird imprinting or how cold it is in Canada. Most of the others are willing to try but they can't always follow.
But this is a process, and before we know it, those kids will all be on board with the read aloud time.
Today, the regular teacher was not there. There was a substitute. (Not going there.) While I was waiting for the few minutes until my group arrived, I observed the training seminar that was going on about Common Core teaching of the standards. My heart sank as I listened to a woman telling the teachers in attendance that they should consider the two cultures, European and Native American and how each group responded. Then, have the kids read the texts in the textbook (courtesy of major publishing houses) and tell in two paragraphs, with evidence! what happened.
I am thinking of the kids I know at this school. They have no idea where Europe is, let alone how Europeans got here, and they see no reason to care about this.
I am thinking that if you give kids mostly experiential education, they will take away a lot of cultural knowledge. I remember how compelling it was for my students to excavate and find Indian artifacts, and then try their hand at chipping stone axes with flint. I remember how compelling it was for my students to try and live like pioneers for a few days.
I think that a one size-fits-all plan such as the Common Core is a misguided notion for our very non-heterogenous society. This is just another panacea and in a few years of more crippling testing, another scheme will appear as the white knight on the horizon.
I take such comfort in growing our school garden. A kid catches and holds in her hands a tiny lizard and we all look at it. What kind of animal is this? It lays eggs- here's one just under the mulch- but clearly it is not a bird. So you take the moment to briefly explain and some kids will retain the science of it and pass it on. We plant bean seeds and come back to see how they have sprouted, marveling at the twin first leaves of a cotyledon. Later, we'll pick our vegetables, cook them, and relish the fresh deliciousness of our hard work. Probably, there is a Common Core textbook with desiccated text about seeds. (test coming up!)
The last hummingbird left right on schedule on September 4th. I miss those busy little creatures who have entertained us all summer. The goldenrod and the blue curls are in abundance, and in the markets there are beautiful chrysanthemums to replace the dwindling pentas and vincas of summer. The moon is full, and if I watched long enough, I would see the fall migration, flying free, drafting each other on their way south.
If only it would cool off!
Thursday, August 14, 2014
Coming Home
We have been on the road many weeks of the summer, visiting friends and family in North Carolina, Connecticut and on the west coast from California to Oregon. Of course you can't know how folks are unless you spend time with them.
Sitting on the porch in North Carolina in the mountains with old friends is the best. We watch the mountains collecting bowls of clouds in the evening and at our feet, the new kittens - Willie and Johnny, who are always up to new tricks. We love reconnecting with old friends on "the mountain" and I have been there so often I know where the wild flowers bloom and the trail up to the Meadow on top of the world.
Next visit was "to the twins", our newest grandchildren in Connecticut. They are perfectly great and full of words and opinions at two and a half. The boy, Emilio, took great liking to a necklace I wore so I let him wear it for the weekend, and finally he could not resist biting through it. No problem. I am getting it restrung, worth it! I loved seeing those five siblings, the four boys and their little sister and we had so many tumble down wonderful times with them and I feel so happy with how things seem now.
The trip to California and Oregon was one I anticipated with some trepidation. I had engaged a VRBO home on the Rogue River in southern Oregon for ten of us to gather. We slowly drove up the coast from San Francisco - probably my favorite route of all time. We stopped to look at the huge grapes ripening in Sonoma County, fruit trees, and the sere golden fields of summer.
We spent a night in an over the top b and b in Arcata and later we picked up my brother who lives there. We always love those northern California towns with the incredible gardens and the overpowering scent of eucalyptus. My brother is a talented gardener and his backyard garden is on a par with any I have ever seen!
When we arrived at our rental, it was fine. Great views across the river and a hub of bird viewing and the deer visited us often.
The family together after some years was actually just great. It was perfect to be on no one's territory, no sweat. This was the first time in many years that four siblings were together - and we were o.k.
It might have been hard to have my youngest brother (who is disabled physically and mentally), but he came and we all had a sense of humor and a feeling of caring. I know it was a highlight of life for him.
My daughter-in-law brought her two beautiful young children and I loved having even this brief sighting of them and even some good conversations with them.
Sometimes we all sat on the deck looking out over the river and talked our heads off about the books we had read or were reading. We traded them. Sometimes we split off to take hikes or investigate the nearest town. We played scrabble and did jigsaw puzzles. We cooked the excellent fish that was available on the dock.
When we all peeled out that last day we were happy to have spent the time with each other.
Arriving back at our airport, we picked up our nine year old grandson (and the dog) and proceeded home.
And, central Florida home these days is so hot and humid it numbs your brain- and we natives never apologize for whining from late August to when the weather changes! But we love it!
We got up today and were working in the gardens before eight. Andy startled a very new fawn sleeping under the front porch. Great to be home.
Sitting on the porch in North Carolina in the mountains with old friends is the best. We watch the mountains collecting bowls of clouds in the evening and at our feet, the new kittens - Willie and Johnny, who are always up to new tricks. We love reconnecting with old friends on "the mountain" and I have been there so often I know where the wild flowers bloom and the trail up to the Meadow on top of the world.
Next visit was "to the twins", our newest grandchildren in Connecticut. They are perfectly great and full of words and opinions at two and a half. The boy, Emilio, took great liking to a necklace I wore so I let him wear it for the weekend, and finally he could not resist biting through it. No problem. I am getting it restrung, worth it! I loved seeing those five siblings, the four boys and their little sister and we had so many tumble down wonderful times with them and I feel so happy with how things seem now.
The trip to California and Oregon was one I anticipated with some trepidation. I had engaged a VRBO home on the Rogue River in southern Oregon for ten of us to gather. We slowly drove up the coast from San Francisco - probably my favorite route of all time. We stopped to look at the huge grapes ripening in Sonoma County, fruit trees, and the sere golden fields of summer.
We spent a night in an over the top b and b in Arcata and later we picked up my brother who lives there. We always love those northern California towns with the incredible gardens and the overpowering scent of eucalyptus. My brother is a talented gardener and his backyard garden is on a par with any I have ever seen!
When we arrived at our rental, it was fine. Great views across the river and a hub of bird viewing and the deer visited us often.
The family together after some years was actually just great. It was perfect to be on no one's territory, no sweat. This was the first time in many years that four siblings were together - and we were o.k.
It might have been hard to have my youngest brother (who is disabled physically and mentally), but he came and we all had a sense of humor and a feeling of caring. I know it was a highlight of life for him.
My daughter-in-law brought her two beautiful young children and I loved having even this brief sighting of them and even some good conversations with them.
Sometimes we all sat on the deck looking out over the river and talked our heads off about the books we had read or were reading. We traded them. Sometimes we split off to take hikes or investigate the nearest town. We played scrabble and did jigsaw puzzles. We cooked the excellent fish that was available on the dock.
When we all peeled out that last day we were happy to have spent the time with each other.
Arriving back at our airport, we picked up our nine year old grandson (and the dog) and proceeded home.
And, central Florida home these days is so hot and humid it numbs your brain- and we natives never apologize for whining from late August to when the weather changes! But we love it!
We got up today and were working in the gardens before eight. Andy startled a very new fawn sleeping under the front porch. Great to be home.
Monday, July 28, 2014
Big Brood
At this moment in time I am as perfectly satisfied as a grandma can be. My three children's kids- all eight of them, are just great!
Valentina and Emilio, our youngest, twins, are so amazing! They are precociously articulate (in both Spanish and English!). They are the youngest in a family of five siblings, and here you see Emilio with his biggest brother, Diego.
Caroline is eating ice cream and her cousin, Vale is regarding a flower.
I am awed by the expertise all our children have as as parents!
These modern parents seem to navigate among all the complexities of kids and stepchildren, several languages, and multiple layers of relations. They all pay real attention to their progeny in such thoughtful and loving ways it takes my breath away. I see that my grandchildren are not all the regulation WASP blondes of my generation, though there are some of those.
Our parents, if they were still living, would be amazed , and maybe horrified, at the diversity of our extended family as it is now. But they would understand the underlying love and attention their great grandchildren have for all these kids.
These eight grandchildren are all being raised by the villages- Puerto Rican, Slavic, WASP, gay and straight, and who knows else? Our gatherings to celebrate everything are joyous occasions of different configurations and colors and ethnicities.
I salute these parents of kids who are our children. They are doing a wonderful job in uncertain times.
Valentina and Emilio, our youngest, twins, are so amazing! They are precociously articulate (in both Spanish and English!). They are the youngest in a family of five siblings, and here you see Emilio with his biggest brother, Diego.
Caroline is eating ice cream and her cousin, Vale is regarding a flower.
I am awed by the expertise all our children have as as parents!
These modern parents seem to navigate among all the complexities of kids and stepchildren, several languages, and multiple layers of relations. They all pay real attention to their progeny in such thoughtful and loving ways it takes my breath away. I see that my grandchildren are not all the regulation WASP blondes of my generation, though there are some of those.
Our parents, if they were still living, would be amazed , and maybe horrified, at the diversity of our extended family as it is now. But they would understand the underlying love and attention their great grandchildren have for all these kids.
These eight grandchildren are all being raised by the villages- Puerto Rican, Slavic, WASP, gay and straight, and who knows else? Our gatherings to celebrate everything are joyous occasions of different configurations and colors and ethnicities.
I salute these parents of kids who are our children. They are doing a wonderful job in uncertain times.
Wednesday, July 23, 2014
A Lot of Money Out There
I am so aware these days, after the Great Recession has receded, that there is a whole lot of money to be had for various projects large and small. Folks who were tight with their money are more expansive, big business is too. Philanthropy is expanding.
The destitute are still standing by the side of the road with their cardboard signs, asking for money. Some dysfunctional families in our communities still cannot manage to keep their lives on track and care for their kids and keep a car functional. Pay day lenders are still in business. Drugs make everything worse.
How do we address this disconnect? You cannot throw money towards some of this. People need to have decently paying work and have the means to buy into success. Raising the minimum wage will go a long way and raise the economic floor.
Education is, of course, the key. So much of our philanthropy can and will go to making sure that the next generation will be able to go to college or get training for some useful work in our society.
I am always asking the question about every 'great' idea, "How does this work?" I want to know the pragmatic bottom line. If you get the grant, what will it lead to? If you have the funds, where and how will it be spent?
In our community/school garden, we seem to have plenty of dollars to do whatever we need (through grants and contributions), but what we really need is a time commitment from local folks who will show up on a regular basis.
The society of humans is so far behind the scrappy digital world!
The destitute are still standing by the side of the road with their cardboard signs, asking for money. Some dysfunctional families in our communities still cannot manage to keep their lives on track and care for their kids and keep a car functional. Pay day lenders are still in business. Drugs make everything worse.
How do we address this disconnect? You cannot throw money towards some of this. People need to have decently paying work and have the means to buy into success. Raising the minimum wage will go a long way and raise the economic floor.
Education is, of course, the key. So much of our philanthropy can and will go to making sure that the next generation will be able to go to college or get training for some useful work in our society.
I am always asking the question about every 'great' idea, "How does this work?" I want to know the pragmatic bottom line. If you get the grant, what will it lead to? If you have the funds, where and how will it be spent?
In our community/school garden, we seem to have plenty of dollars to do whatever we need (through grants and contributions), but what we really need is a time commitment from local folks who will show up on a regular basis.
The society of humans is so far behind the scrappy digital world!
Thursday, July 03, 2014
Neighbors Up the Road
Tonight, after a drenching five inches of pure Florida summer rain, it is just beginning to clear though I still hear distant rolls of thunder.
I see distant lights up the hill in the little house and it makes me glad. I see the warm glow of the chili lights and I think that dinner may be happening up there.
At the beginning of June we decided to rent the guest house to our dear friends who have been using it for ages when there was an opening between other guests. It seemed that when our family comes to visit they always wanted to be in the main house and that is great for us.
We want to sell twenty acres of our land to our good friends who have used and loved the little house. But there are some legal issues, yet to be resolved, about making this happen. So, we came up with the idea of renting the little house to them until they can have their very own slice of this paradise. This is a good deal for everyone. They feel free to come and go as they please. They have use of everything here, and most of all, these folks truly love the place and know it almost as well as we do. They pitch in with mowing the pastures, weeding the vegetable garden, heaving mulch. We love to walk together in the woods and swamp. Their kids have grown up here and frequently come to visit. I was charmed when we went to one of their boys' graduations this spring, and we were introduced as his grandparents. We are that close.
Having neighbors, even sporadically, is the best! We live out here in such a vast space it makes the people who come to fix things gasp. (The drive way is a mile long!) But having such wonderful people as neighbors on the hill, not very near, is perfect, just perfect.
You never know how life will turn out; it always takes unexpected turns. Many years ago, I thought that one of our sons would live in the vicinity and would be interested in making this ranch a part of his life. But that didn't happen and his career and family life soars elsewhere. If you give your kids wings to fly, they'll fly. And all of mine have flown and I am pleased with that.
But one of the very best and unexpected things has been having a close connection to one of my grandsons, who is now nine years old. He has spent a lot of time with us since infancy, has his own room here, his own toys and books and he folds seamlessly and joyfully
into our lives. I know that soon he will be a teenager and be more distant. But for now, I enjoy every moment.
The neighbors up the road will bring ribs to barbecue for the 4th of July, everyone will make food and our daughter and her wife will be here, my sister and brother in law, and we'll set off firecrackers and smoke bombs. The nine year old is still in camp in North Carolina, our neighbors' boys are not in the vicinity, so it will be just adults. (Unless the Mexican neighbors from Lacoochee come to swim).
I am pretty wildly happy to be here in this swampy and forested place in Florida and it is all the better to have neighbors up the hill who love frogs and birds and plants. Who knew?
I see distant lights up the hill in the little house and it makes me glad. I see the warm glow of the chili lights and I think that dinner may be happening up there.
At the beginning of June we decided to rent the guest house to our dear friends who have been using it for ages when there was an opening between other guests. It seemed that when our family comes to visit they always wanted to be in the main house and that is great for us.
We want to sell twenty acres of our land to our good friends who have used and loved the little house. But there are some legal issues, yet to be resolved, about making this happen. So, we came up with the idea of renting the little house to them until they can have their very own slice of this paradise. This is a good deal for everyone. They feel free to come and go as they please. They have use of everything here, and most of all, these folks truly love the place and know it almost as well as we do. They pitch in with mowing the pastures, weeding the vegetable garden, heaving mulch. We love to walk together in the woods and swamp. Their kids have grown up here and frequently come to visit. I was charmed when we went to one of their boys' graduations this spring, and we were introduced as his grandparents. We are that close.
Having neighbors, even sporadically, is the best! We live out here in such a vast space it makes the people who come to fix things gasp. (The drive way is a mile long!) But having such wonderful people as neighbors on the hill, not very near, is perfect, just perfect.
You never know how life will turn out; it always takes unexpected turns. Many years ago, I thought that one of our sons would live in the vicinity and would be interested in making this ranch a part of his life. But that didn't happen and his career and family life soars elsewhere. If you give your kids wings to fly, they'll fly. And all of mine have flown and I am pleased with that.
But one of the very best and unexpected things has been having a close connection to one of my grandsons, who is now nine years old. He has spent a lot of time with us since infancy, has his own room here, his own toys and books and he folds seamlessly and joyfully
The neighbors up the road will bring ribs to barbecue for the 4th of July, everyone will make food and our daughter and her wife will be here, my sister and brother in law, and we'll set off firecrackers and smoke bombs. The nine year old is still in camp in North Carolina, our neighbors' boys are not in the vicinity, so it will be just adults. (Unless the Mexican neighbors from Lacoochee come to swim).
I am pretty wildly happy to be here in this swampy and forested place in Florida and it is all the better to have neighbors up the hill who love frogs and birds and plants. Who knew?
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