Trying to Understand the Rednecks

I so love all the ways my neighbors arrange life. They have all kinds of animals and crops, and they are so interested in anything rural. We talk about what they have planted in their gardens and what works. Their kids approach us to sponsor their animals in the county fair.

These folks are fiercely independent Americans and they want no truck with "government" and they want to have their guns at the ready. These people do not recycle and do not believe in climate change, or understand it. T.V. plays constantly in their dimly lit homes. In many cases their yards are full of trash and plastic.

And yet, these folks have many wonderful values. They take care of each other, and on many occasions they take care of us, whose values are wildly different. Some of them are truly caretakers of this land.

We call these folks "rednecks", though actually my neck is redder than most because I am outside most of the day. This term really is about education, or the lack of it. O.K. It's about the vast ignorance so many of my fellow countrymen have.

For years we tried to buy a contiguous sixty acres from an old and cranky guy who owned it. After having put in a lot of effort and money to have it surveyed, and a lot of energy removing trash from the property, he finally refused. We were planning to give away two thirds of it to his daughter, and to the man who put major work into restoring this land. This was disappointing, but we went on.

Some years later, we decided to place all our land into a conservation easement. This means that nothing more than what is here can be added to. We cannot build anything more on our 300 acres. This land can continue to be a wildlife corridor from the Withlacoochee River, through the Green Swamp. Annually, the water board comes to check on how things are going here. When and if we sell this place, the easement goes with it. We liked thinking that this paradise would be forever.

Since we made this decision we have enjoyed the burgeoning of the wildlife here. It is truly the peaceable kingdom where every imaginable Florida critter and wildflower thrive. I drive on our mile long driveway to get the mail and see bobcats, many deer, wild turkeys and every kind of bird. It was a good decision.

But now we are revisiting the desirability of buying that contiguous sixty acres. Over the last ten years, (who knew?), we became close with a family, all scientists, who more and more frequently came out to visit. We formed such a strong bond with them! They really "got it"! They helped in the work of the ranch - mowing and clearing trees, working in the gardens. We share meals, love their kids. They have become a very important part of our family.

They love this place so much they want to have a part of it for their own. They got a windfall and promptly offered a juicy contract on that desirable sixty acres ( a lot of it is swamp, but to herpetologists, so great!)  And that crusty suspicious redneck family still holds out! They never use it unless it is to shoot stuff!

The in-law son, Mac, now approaching seventy has Parkinson's. He's our ranch manager, owns the herd of cows and is here every day. I love him beyond the beyond and we would do anything for each other. If our younger friends could buy into that land, it would benefit everyone, especially Mac, in so many ways. If our "new" family lived here it could be such a win-win situation! The pastures could be mowed, fences fixed, the cattle pens repaired. We old folks could be staying here for a long time.

But these folks still say "No." They are not thinking about the welfare of Mac over the long haul. They are not thinking of Mac's wife who may need the money, and certainly they do not think about the stewardship of the land. These folks freely strew trash around. Makes me nuts!

It's hard being neighbors here! Stay tuned. There is always plan B, and maybe plan C.

Thinking about Syria

I see the photos of the terrible devastation of war in Syria and they grip my heart and I cry for those refugees now in Jordan and Lebanon. I have seen those places in another more peaceful time when I learned to love the stark deserts and the impossibly green spaces where water flowed.

More than fifty years ago when I was a teenager in Beirut, I accompanied my father on the trips he took to various archaeological sites in the fertile crescent. He was a classicist and was taking his knowledge on the road to various cities and towns that had been the cradle of civilization.

We would set out in the VW with various maps. It was always an adventure. I was responsible for the slide show and in each town we hired a translator. The venues were packed. (There was little else to do in these towns.) It was hairy getting from place to place, and I worried about my attire. I will always remember the dark shirtwaist dress and the black shawl I sometimes needed to cover my hair and arms.

We would set forth, through the lush Bekaa Valley of Lebanon and soon begin our trek through Syria and on into Iraq. We loved Damascus with its lovely buildings and the amazing maze of the souks- where I bought meters of cloth to take back home for my mom to sew into dresses. I learned to not notice the attention that was paid me for my wild curly blonde hair that kept escaping from my shawl.

We had a gig in Aleppo and enjoyed the town and its lovely leafy main street. Now this place is in ruins.

Lots of times our respite for the nights were sketchy. We were served roasted song birds and sheep testicles. We tried hard to enjoy these things, (my dad threatened me if I would not at least try them!) and the pay off for me was seeing the incredible blue to pink skies as day dimmed over the desert.

I was in all respects a typical teenager and I longed for my boyfriend back in Beirut. But, somehow I knew that these expeditions were part of the adventure of my life.

As we drove through the deserts of Syria and Iraq we saw a number of hills just jutting out of the landscape. My father told me these were called "tels"-ancient hills that covered up towns and cities, now lost to civilization. We saw so many of them! It piqued my imagination. What happened to the inhabitants of these cities? I wanted to get out and dig them up ASAP.

On one trip across the kitty litter desert after nightfall, we ran into a donkey, probably killed it, and it certainly did major damage to our VW. The donkey shepherd appeared out of the night, we paid him off in piasters, and we drove on without a windshield, shards of glass embedded in our clothes (the shirtwaist). The entry point into Iraq was fraught and we had to wait hours as they searched our car and constantly thumbed through our documents. Finally, we returned to Syria and Damascus where we had the possibility of getting the car repaired. A few days later we caught a plane back to Beirut, and eventually the VW was returned to us.

This middle east is so beautiful and amazing. I hate seeing so many places in rubble, so many people killed from the war, refugees,  and I know that so many of the iconic archaeological and natural sites have been ruined for all time. The wonderful people of the middle east deserve more. Our entire world deserves more.

And I do not know what to do about it!

Old Lady in the Digital World

O.K. I am trying my best. I was an early adopter of these things and I wanted my kids to have access to computers, so we bought the first computer, an Apple, more than thirty years ago. Of course, we were all hooked, we learned how to program games and we endured the clackety clack noise of those first printers. The internet was in its infancy.

Time passes and I have had many computers and gone from the very slow dial-up to satellite to DSL and beyond. My first computers were Apples and then for a long time I switched to Dells that had more currency in my work life.

While all this was happening I adopted the cell phone life, and was thrilled with my first smart phone!. Of course, it was able to do more than I needed and its interface was ever seeming too small for my middle aged eyes. Not to mention my fingers that refused to be able to text.  On to the iPhone and a steep learning curve of texting, Instagram, and all the rest.

And now I have a brand new huge Apple desktop and this is a wonderful toy. In these days they do not give you any instructions. You get to figure it out yourself, and if you can't shift those photos to another album you can always click help.

I used to think that my computer was my inside pocket of privacy. No more. If my Mac can automatically provide the correct spellings and even find faces in photos and find so much else, including where the photo was taken, I have got to revise my thinking.

When looking at Google Earth looking down on our very private 300 acres, I saw that every single cow, every single plant in the vegetable garden, is visible! Yikes!

I suppose that for most of us our privacy is in the sheer vast numbers of us out there in the digital world. and so we hide in the crowd. Who is going to look us up on Face Book amongst 600 friends?  And yet, I know that nothing on our computers is really private. Our comings and goings are photographed on security cameras many times a day as we go about our business in stores and gas stations and all the rest.

Now, being seventy-two, I have come to realize that all the stuff I have written is not important in this vast world of writings. My kids can read my book, the documents in my computer files are mostly temporary and I delete them as necessary. Maybe they are permanently in clouds. I do not need to keep vast files and I can delete them as I do the boxes in closets and the hangers of clothes no longer wanted.

This is a whole new world and I am at the tail end of it. Where is it going? What will this mean for our children and grandchildren?

Meanwhile, I am doing the best I can with this new technology and loving every minute of it.  I am thankful I do not have teenagers under my responsibility because they are so vulnerable, though I would love to have one of them sit by my side and easily tell me to click on this or that.

But Siri soldiers on, helping me navigate everything.

Thoughts about our Community/school Garden

Spring is here in Central Florida and everything is a startling green. Fireflies are about finished and the love bugs are about to appear as they always do about this time of year. And our community garden at the local school is beginning to produce something other than the ubiquitous collards.

We 'Garden Ladies' feel proud of what we have brought to this school. We got the grant of a few thousand dollars to set up the beds and the irrigation system, buy a load of garden soil, and a lot of seedlings and seeds, and the ancillary things one needs to keep a vegetable garden growing.  We put up a colorful garden sign and a place for folks to write about the garden. We have a large garden supply box where kids can find new seeds to plant, hand lenses to look at the bugs and whatnot, tools for digging, gloves to wear. Even band-aids.

It was way harder than we imagined to engage this school in gardening! The administration and the teaching staff was so enmeshed in their problems about the FCAT and how the school would be letter-wise, they had little time and interest in the vegetable garden that kept on growing out back. It took us some time to figure this out. Gradually, we found that some classes came out to the garden and enjoyed digging and planting and watering. Most of the teachers who brought kids to the garden told us they enjoyed it, and yet, many continue to let their students foul the compost bin with plastic bags and other non-compostable garbage. Often, we find lots of trash around and tools left lying out.

Out irrigation system automatically waters everything, but we have fifteen grow boxes along a corridor that are out of range of the water. These are supposed to be the property of individual parents and teachers and they need to be cared for. I am surprised that some of these earth boxes get watered and that whoever waters them never thinks to water those of their neighbors!

What I have learned from this project is that kids love gardening! They are interested in everything that is growing. They want to keep a few of our broccoli plants that have gone to seed with their beautiful yellow flowers for the hummingbirds and butterflies. One small girl has taken it upon herself to keep the hummingbird feeder full of nectar. Another regular kid turns the compost bin. They love to plant stuff and they love to pick what's ready and take it home to cook and eat. They love to dig in the pile of garden soil and they love to water with the fertilizer water that smells of fish.  They love finding frogs and bugs. These kids love to be outside in the Florida sunshine (Their classrooms are windowless!) These kids are proud of what they are growing!

I have found that a few teachers come out to the garden on a regular basis and harvest the lettuce or collards or whatever and take it home for supper! We have picked many vegetables and cooked them in the classrooms with kids chopping and cutting and combining. The kids love these cooking groups.

So, we rejoice in this.  We wish that the school garden might have been a more compelling activity for everyone. We wish that there had been more support of our work.  I do not think that our major efforts have been for nothing in this food desert. We just need to think that the vision of good nutrition happens little by little, and we have had a part in this.

Amazing Day

I have never named this school I write about in my blogs. But now, everyone knows that this is the same Lacoochee Elementary School that hit the front page of the newspaper today because of the fact that all the faculty will be let go because it has been a D school for three years running. There are a lot of unanswered questions. There is a lot of baggage there, a lot stemming from the previous Superintendent who constructed huge road blocks to progress.

I know that there are a lot of unanswered questions about this school! Why is this school at the top of the list to be restructured in some way? We need more information.

From the point of view from a long time volunteer who has been judgmental (because I have been  a school principal and I think hard about these things), I have been saddened and sometimes outraged about what happens in this school that I love.

So many times I have noticed how unfriendly I feel at this school. Very few "Good Mornings!" Many reasons I can't do this or that.

The students I have in classes are so enthusiastic and bright! They love the creative teaching I do with them. But the administration is hard to get by, to let me actually teach!

It has been a hard slog in this school! The four of us who got a grant and brought a community garden to the place have been barely seen, never understood or appreciated. We thought this would be an exciting and fun place, full of educational experiences about good nutrition and the science of botany.

Most of the teachers have never even known that a school garden was out there (So verdant and green and burgeoning with harvestable vegetables) The kids love being out there in the garden, but there are plenty of teachers whose kids have never been out there to water and pick off the bugs , learn about how to grow things, and take home bags of vegetables. No one but us takes any responsibility or pride in this. Makes me sad. Cooking the vegetables has been hard because there is always the issue of the locked (high security) room where we have our cooking supplies. Daunting.

We volunteers have noticed that so many times that if any kids come to the garden they are accompanied by substitute teachers. Why is this? The actual classroom teachers are in meetings?

The school garden is just an iconic thing about the general health of this school.  No one would ever bother to water the plants or think about what it takes to make anything grow. (Including kids!)

Why is this? It's not because people loathe vegetables or harbor ill will towards us who superintend the garden. I think some of them are proud of this work their students do. Some of them harvest food to take home. People at this school do not have any time! The school has been under state supervision this year so that it could make a better grade than a D. Those kids absolutely must do well on the FCATS or else! So the teachers are constantly in meetings with "the state" or preparing for meetings with "the state" or coaching the kids to be better test takers.  It's hard to find time to teach!

Or else! just happened. Maybe knowing that the other shoe has dropped the folks at Lacoochee can find some time for fun and some joy and a big bite of a fresh tomato.

The current principal tried really hard in a very difficult situation.

That said, I am thinking that in the best possible world a new principal will be appointed. He/she will be enthusiastic and affirming, speak standard English (maybe Spanish). This new principal will be very well educated and open to new ideas, read widely, and be able to guide the staff of teachers to new heights. This new principal will encourage the wild ideas of a creative staff. This new principal will be inclusive and energize the teachers and let them all know how important it is to affirm every parent , child and community member for what they do. This new principal needs to have a sense of humor and fun. And this new principal needs to have a strong support system in their administration - including a strong parent/community person who can seamlessly know what needs to be done. This new principal needs to have a vision of what can be done in this amazing community of mostly hispanics.


And this principal will have the time to lead and inspire a great team.


I am thinking that the best principal will know how important it is to have every single teacher be in his/her classroom every single day!  Pare down those "important" meetings.

This school is inhabited by the best children on earth. They are the brightest and best, like any others in our schools.

They deserve the best.

Getting Personal

I listen to and watch the news every day. Seems like we have hit the edge when some of those men in suits in our legislatures change their minds about those important issues that have engaged Americans for years. I am glad they do.

Everyone has their price, nothing new. But when one of those legislators has seen their grandchild's body splattered to death by an assault weapon in the hands of a madman, he has to think whether the rifle association with all it's money and support for the next election is ethically worth it.

Interesting, that with less money involved, so many of the "suits" have come on  board for gay marriage. I would bet that there is not a family out there who does not have some gay members. Who could be opposed to these civil rights?

We have for too long swept under the rug the issues of the undocumented folks who do our work so well, have really smart kids who will be the heart of productive America.

For the "suits", you only know that the undocumented folks mow your lawn and clean your houses and do extraordinary work on building your houses. It is easy not to see that these hard workers may actually be engineers or physicians, and are clawing their way up to be part of the American Dream.

But everyone has their price, money talks, and I am disgusted with our current lot of politicians who waft in the wind, try to appease their base and get the money from PACS and the rich who ferry them around in private planes.

What happened to ethics?

Fashions for Senior Gals

O.K. I know there is a website out there written by a great guy who loves old ladies of fashion. I am paying attention. But I do not ever want to dye my eyelashes orange (what there are left of them!) At 72, 5 feet six inches and one hundred twenty-two pounds, I am the same as I was at 22. But not really..

I have always wanted to have my own signature style. I imagined kind of flowing garments, Eileen Fisher, sweeping the ground, classic, suggestive. I liked the idea of being able to cover up my wrinkled body, but maybe not.

My hairdresser now knows that I want a short style for my curly hair that I don't even have to brush out after a shower. I am happy with that.

My closet is full of things - the lovely light pink maxi skirt, a fuscia sleeveless top, gold sandals. But everyday I pull out the Chico jeans and a White Stag cotton tee shirt from Walmart, shove my feet into Birkenstock Arizona sandals, put in some colorful earrings and I am good to go all day.

I guess this is my style. Swim suits are problematic. Mostly, I swim in the nude since there is no one there. Actually, I have a huge number of bathing suits - all bad in one way or another. I hate that horrid time of making all those straps and tight criss crosses behave. I will don a swim suit when guests are here, of course. Will I wear that modest polka dot swim dress that takes ten minutes to put on, or will I wear the "cute" boy shorts with that incredibly uncomfortable top?

Old ladies, even thinnish ones as I am, have to think about how we will display our upper arms and thighs in the clothing of today. I have muscular upper arms, no flab. All good. But there are those horrid wrinkles! You can't wear Spanx all day and not be grouchy and touchy. You can't wear a bag over your head!

So, back to the loose and flowing garments. Except that you can't garden or use major tools or hike in those. I guess it's back to the jeans and tee shirts, wrinkles be damned. I am elderly and I will be comfortable. My style.

Clay Night

Last night was Clay Night at Lacoochee Elementary School. As you can see there were about seventy people present. We invited the second grade and the fourth grade classes. The families of these children from grandparents to tiny babies came on time- and actually before.

Their kids have told them about this Ms.Molly and they know how much time and fun I provide in the garden and in other classes. So they brought their families last night. And what a good time we all had!

Maybe two thirds of the participants were the Mexican families. We did our best at translation. Some really beautiful clay objects were made, and afterwards everyone helped clean up and tote the finished clay things to my car. People told me that this was the best fun they have had all week.

No actual parent or community meetings have had this turn out of interested folks. I think how it would be to have clay/art nights once a month and include a pot luck supper from our garden harvest.  Last night there was a lovely feeling of community and family fun. People- moms, dads, families of all kinds, need to play

with each other.

Volunteering at the school, constructing a community garden there, teaching some classes, has been a very uphill endeavor for me and for the other volunteers. I love the kids and get tremendous affirmation from them. The administration often seems unwilling or unfriendly or not caring about our efforts. Hundreds of hours and dollars we have contributed to this school. In some ways I think that these beleaguered folks have all they can handle considering the fear of FCAT.

I do think that common courtesy might motivate them to communicate things to us volunteers. We ask, but it never happens. And, like Lucy and the football, I keep going back.

Clay night was wonderful! We could build on that if only, if only..

Need to Play

The four of us- 'the garden ladies' as we are known, because we secured the grant for this community garden, and continue to be there for a time each weekday, have been puzzled by the irrigation system problems. It was all set up, running beautifully, and timed to water every day, morning and evening.

But almost every day we notice that the spigots are turned off or the sprinkler heads are turned every which way. Last week when I was there with many kids what I saw was that they ran to the tools, got dixie cups from the garden bin, rummaged around to find every last seed, no matter what it was. And then, with a satisfied sigh they settled down to PLAY in the pile of dirt we use for the raised beds! They flung the soil about, excavated for worms and grubs, dug with any tools they could find, piled the dirt into the wagon and then dumped it out back onto the dirt pile. They loved it! Of course the irrigation system was discombobulated!

This is what we wanted, what a children's garden should be! By now, after a long harvest season  and the beginning of a new one, these kids are confident. They pick and eat the last of the broccoli and the pea pods. They break off the huge collard leaves, stuff them in bags to take home for dinner.

 They love to be outdoors, and they especially love the freedom to dig and get dirty. Yeah, they'll water and weed, but what they really want is a HUGE dirt pile, some tools, small containers, and maybe even some small vehicles and plastic people. Unfortunately, this is not to be in the careful and circumscribed world of FCAT. But we do encourage the digging and have rethought the irrigation system!

After this long year in the garden we have learned so much, most of it unexpected. But what I have learned all over again is that these kids, like all kids, need to play!
So much the better that they know that they can grow and eat good things along the way. They know where vegetables come from and they know that in the garden their teachers become lax and limp and cast a blind eye to their capers on the dirt pile. A triumph!

Our grandson, Quincy, is staying here for his spring break. He's eight, and unlike the public school garden kids I mostly see, he's a student at a private school that has a richness of play materials- blocks, clay, art materials, a school garden. But still, he needs to have uncounted minutes and hours to explore his own world which is now Lego. He spends hours constructing huge habitats. He explains them to me and I try to respond in appropriate ways. (What's a grandma for?)

Quincy knows that here on a ranch everyone has to do chores. So he pulls on his boots and gloves and cheerfully helps us clean up the downed trees from yesterday's storm. He's really learning to be a big help, he's strong and willing. I see him playing on the downed tree, reveling in his strong young body.  But I know he is really wanting to get back to his most important work- that imaginative play!

Here on our ranch, Quincy is kind of a prince .- and he knows it! But a prince has to set and clear the table, do some chores. And what he really gets here is the time to play.

We all need to play!

Carlos

Carlos first came to my attention in maybe the third grade. All the kids had the  assignment to present the biographies of their favorite celebrity. The class had many entries in this assignment: all were about the usual teen aged idols and a few sports stars. All were quite dismal and banal in their presentations.

And then, Carlos stood up with his hand written notes. He spoke about Gandhi, and suddenly the room was quiet. The other kids clearly had no idea about this man and his ideas, but they were enthralled by Carlos' and his enthusiasm and careful research.

The school knew that this boy was exceptional, but in this tiny impoverished place, no one knows what to do with the few gifted kids that pass by their purview.

I tracked Carlos through his elementary years and we became friends. He is a Mexican boy, and entered this country illegally on his mom's back. Later, I became friends with his mother who has helped us with our summer camp, and since then has become the best housekeeper we have ever had. (If she were a legal citizen she would be running something, no doubt.)

Carlos has gone on to middle school, the one that enrolls all the Lacoochee Mexicans. I worry that he is not being challenged and from time to time I make it possible for him to be a member of the soccer team, or go to camp, or go on a trip to Washington, D.C.

Carlos, even with the backing of a strong but struggling family invested in education, needs to have the vision of that wide wide world that may be possible. From this family and their community, I have learned how difficult it is to be undocumented in America, how terrified they are, like so many others, to contemplate the fate of this highly gifted kid who could soar. But he's illegal and they worry about this all the time.

As we read in the NYT today, so many high achieving but poor kids just do not have any idea that they could go free to the most selective colleges. (They have not heard of Smith or Yale or ..) They settle for the local community colleges, and there is nothing wrong with that in most cases. We need to ask why those so-called college advisors in the high schools are not directing these gifted, but poor kids to the highest and best.

But, Carlos needs more challenge, and if I have anything to do with it, he'll be there one day at MIT or Brown or wherever.

I am doing what I can. I am trying to give Carlos  some vision about the future.

Twins visit!

Here are Emilio and Valentina in baskets. They are about to break out and crawl like crazy around the house. Emilio will head for the book shelves and if there are any loose books he'll pull them out. Valentina, who crawls even faster (maybe 20 mph?) will search for the dog.

It was such a wonderful visit! These kids' parents are endlessly patient and loving, talking to their children in two languages and seeming to savor every moment, nothing too hard to do for them. We provided vegetables from the garden that were ground up in the baby food grinder, just so, and the kids mushed all the food into their mouths, splatted blueberries on the floor and all the fourteen of us, the critical mass including my best closest grandson, eight years old now, enjoyed it all immensely. We all cooked enormous communal meals.

March in Florida is totally glorious, though a tad chilly right now. Emilio and Valentina seemed very interested in the outdoor life here as we trundled them around in the stroller and the golf cart and in the back of the pick up to explore the property. When I took Emilio out to the vegetable garden to gather the vegetables for dinner, he started cramming lettuce leaves into his mouth, flinging the unwanted ones away.

It was somewhat exhausting with so many folks here and the necessity of leaping to keep the twins from harm and keeping the house and kitchen going. But everyone was on duty to help. I certainly enjoyed every minute. Grandma talking. I love it!

Growing Old with Siblings

My friend Suzanne is about to retire next week. She has six or seven sisters and one of them has taken the vow of silence and retreated to a nunnery. Suzanne is excited to think about going to live with her favorite sister in a lovely place north of us where she'll have her own space, the garden, and the company of her sister and her husband she likes. Snip snap and she's got it all together. Not so easy for everyone.

I am one of five children. One brother died young, another brother leads a life circumscribed by his disabilities from cerebral palsy. So that leaves me, my big brother two years older, and our little sister and we are all getting older.

Big brother Brooks lives as far from me as anyone could be. None the less we manage to see each other at least once a year and for years we have taken trips together with our spouses to wonderful places around the globe. And those have been some of the best trips of my life. For the shank of my working life, big brother and I were cordial but attenuated by circumstance and distance.

And now, I cannot imagine not having the clot of memories we have together and the times we help each other, all the conversations on the fly, the books we send each other, the long phone calls, and the sense of connection we have to the important things in our lives. We have the same drive to give back to our communities. He plays music in old folks homes, has an NPR music show, connects with his neighbors, and is into local politics. And I do the school garden, community organizing, and am a volunteer teacher in our local school. In retirement we both have the same vision.

Our talented little sister is more enigmatic. Right now she is midway through a two month stay at an ashram where she does not speak, only meditates. This is the sister who went on a pilgrimage a couple of years ago through northern Spain to Santiago. This is the sister who makes incredible tile installations all over the world. This is the much married sister who is deep into sobriety issues. Seems that she is about herself.

I hope to begin understanding her, but it is hard. I have missed connecting with her and so treasured a postcard she sent me yesterday about her ascetic life.

My other sibling is Maria, adopted by each other many years ago. I needed another sister and she had no siblings. This wonderful brilliant Maria is my sister in every way. I can ask her and tell her anything, she's a part of the family, we can not talk for days, and then talk all the time. She gives me advice, listens, and I listen. She will pick me up at the airport in the middle of the night. She loves my grandson like I do and we love to hang out. I think about her all the time.

So, we are all growing old together and we have this thick bond that will help us through the tough times ahead.

What if it were just you, the one and only, growing old alone? I can't imagine it. I have this wonderful and robust family network, and we'll see each other through.

So Cold but Spring has Sprung

My neighbor's chickens are laying like crazy so tonight we had a yummy omelet full of Swiss chard from the garden. We hope this will be the last cold snap (I covered the tender potatoes) and everything else will just have to manage overnight.

Today I took collards and a mess of lettuces to my neighbor who appreciates this gift. I also take some tomato and pepper starts to other neighbors I think will grow on these heirloom plants.

Tonight, as always, I gaze into the sky that is quite pristine with no lights from Earth. I can see the constellations and the whole Milky Way, and even a few harbingers of spring- the fireflies.

We live here, way out on the margin of the Green Swamp, nothing toxic, everything perfect in this wildlife corridor. The sand hill cranes elegantly walk the fields, tens of deer cavort at the margins of the pastures, red shouldered hawks scream overhead, and there are dozens of birds on our many feeders. When we awake in our bedroom without curtains or shades and open to the elements, we hear the morning cacophony of the birds and see the hummingbirds zooming fast by the windows.

There is something so magical about experiencing the natural world! Kids who come here understand this and they are enthralled by the ant lions, the yellow rat snake on the porch, the armadillos in the yard, and the sighting of deer across the field. They understand something amazing as they watch the birth of a calf and salute the first wobbly steps.

We are looking forward to the first visit here from our grandchild twins this week. Right now they are too little to remember much, but they'll see the chickens, pick oranges with Grandpa, and ride around the fields in the golf cart. They will go out at night with Grandma and look at the stars.

Life is sweet.

The Baby Needs New Shoes

Being grandma to eight grandchildren is the best. They always need new shoes! Here you see the eight year old in our playroom at the ranch. Undoubtedly, his shoes are in shreds, flopped over as he pronates.

The twins are not into shoes yet. They are still crawling fast, steering with bare feet, but, no doubt, grandma will send on those easy velcro shoes they'll require quite soon. Just today I sent shoes to the ones who live out west whose feet grow and grow.

How are we to think about our kids and their progeny who need so much from us? (college tuition, money for camp?) We were the generation who may have been the last one to actually do better than our parents financially. Our parents did not remotely imagine that they would contribute to their grand children's education. For better or for worse we were launched.

And now it is our pleasure to buy those shoes, or whatever, for these grand kids. This is a new world for us all who are trying to make it work.

Grandma collard seed

Such a gift this week to have the school garden come together with such exuberance. The four of us from the Dade City Garden Club (aka the garden ladies) received our grant to do it in August.

With tons of help from spouses and friends we installed the raised beds, irrigation system and shoveled in the soil. We planted many seedlings and seeds with help from the kids. It was so hard getting the school staff and teachers to come out and participate.

This school has been under state supervision because its rating was a D. All the more reason it seemed to us garden ladies, to bring some joy and soul, science and good eating to this place. We prepared lessons and art activities, the kids loved the bugs and frogs they found. We had cooking groups for the vegetables we harvested.

But there was something immense missing. Seemed that the school did not care, there was no communication however hard we tried, our cooking groups often couldn't happen because the kitchen was always either locked or being used. Many times no kids showed up on schedule. We felt dismissed and unappreciated. We were dispirited. But always, we regrouped to try something else. We knew that these folks at this school were fearful and anxious and we knew also that this garden project could be great.

We admired the garden so burgeoning with produce, a field of fluffy green and tons of flowers, many butterflies. No problem with growing stuff! We invited and cajoled everyone at school to pick the harvest, take it home to eat. It was hard. We went to the garden and no sign of anyone harvesting anything. Gradually, a few classes began to pick collards and broccoli and carrots. We encouraged the kids to just eat beans and peapods off the vines.

Keeping on, we invited parents and teachers and community members to come and learn about growing their very own earth box of what vegetables they choose. Amazing! People showed up! Kids came. It was a wonderful morning of shared work and fellowship. The school parent coordinator, the school science coach, even the principal all showed up - and it seemed they GOT IT! Many e-mails have been whizzing back and forth since then about garden issues. Kids who came to the garden confidently extracted seedlings from the nine packs and deftly inserted them into the beds.

Our broccoli plants have been trying to flower. We leave a few for the butterflies. Two lovely children who had been hanging out working in the garden all morning couldn't bear to throw the spent plants into the compost and saved a plant, sticking it into a pot. "What are you gong to do with this?" I asked. They said they were gong to give it to their teacher! As they hauled it off I called out, "Come back here and tell me how she reacted!"

Five minutes later they were back with mile wide grins. "She loves it!"

These kids and a few others loved being in the garden with a motley group of folks. They hung around as the adults talked vegetable cooking techniques and they spoke up with their own opinions. This is just the way it's spozed to be! I think that now this school has ownership of this magical place.

Grandma collard seed

Grandma Collard Seed

Being Sick

A whole week of my life disappeared. It began happening on a Tuesday afternoon when everything in my body began to hurt with shards of dull pain. I was cold, then hot, I began to cough, I took ibuprophen and went to bed early, and by morning I had changed my sweat soaked p.j.'s twice. My husband was suffering with the same thing and had actually come down with it a couple of days before me.

I was only faintly sympathetic. (I never get sick! Hey, I got the flue shot and have been vaccinated against whooping cough and pneumonia. No worries.) I made soup, my best effort as Florence Nightingale.

But when I became ill, it really was the worst since I had had Asian flu as a teenager. We moved slowly from room to room seeking flat places to lie supine. The dog loved this choice of super warm bodies to cuddle up to. At one point I was lying quietly upstairs on our grandson's bed, and with so much time and nothing to read, I examined everything in the room: the many post-it notes all over the walls. When did this boy do that? I did not have the energy to go and see what they said and my eyes moved on to an amazingly complicated Lego construction on the table. What ARE these turtles?  Then there are the framed child paintings I have not examined in years, and the large photograph of me as a lovely three year old. This is a strange room. And I can't possibly live feeling like this.

After hauling myself in to see my doctor, who said I had nothing unique, a sinus infection and I should rest, drink chicken soup and take a course of antibiotics I felt no better for several days. We continued to cough and ooze from couch to couch, bed to bed. Sometimes we roused ourselves to make some comfort food, stuff we usually never eat such as mac and cheese, dumplings, more soup. It was too much trouble to go out to the garden and pick a salad. I forced myself to tend to the two hundred tomato and pepper seedlings on the porch. Couldn't let them die! One morning we did four loads of laundry- all those sweaty sheets and pajamas.

Just before we turned the corner I got the idea in my head that I wanted to eat pound cake. No one could possibly make the trip to the store.
And so my husband said he'd make a cake. It took six eggs and a prodigious amount of butter. By the time the cake was nearing doneness, he was clinging to the counter, whipped.  We ate it for dessert after one of our comfort food meals we pretended to enjoy. The cake was actually lovely.

Then, this morning after the freeze, we awoke human again. Maybe not quite well, but the possibility exists. We had things to do, places to go.

I have been hungry all day, eating everything in sight. We both lost so much weight in a week it's scary.

 From one Downton Abbey to the next that I watched from my couch, I seriously began to love Maggie Smith's face and began to think of her as my fashion guru.

I will be more sympathetic from now on with everyone, anyone who just has something non unique that is serious to them. The kids never called, not that we had alerted them. But I did think about the many times I sent them off to school sick and was not entirely sympathetic to the various spots and scabs of their childhood.

Such is life.

                             

Many Guests, Many Veges

The tomatoes lasted until the end of January, and even tonight there are probably a few wizened ones left. It has been an amazing winter, warm beyond what anyone has ever seen.

Our New England family is hunkered down watching the snow fall, thinking about tomorrow when all that snow will have to be removed.

  And, here in paradise, I spent the day setting out seedlings, weeding, mulching, planting the new crops to join the broccoli, collards, carrots, and potatoes we are already enjoying. The porch is full of dozens of heirloom tomato and pepper starts I planted just after Christmas that will go into the garden in a couple of weeks. Many of them will go to the school/community garden and to friends.

 It is a new thing to have had vegetables from the garden non-stop for the entire year. Yeah, sometimes there are a lot of repeats. Collards and broccoli several times a week, salad every night.

Yesterday, when we made a last breakfast for our departing guests, we had those exquisite tiny new red potatoes with the eggs from a neighbor and the last of the tomatoes.

My brother and his wife had been visiting for two and a half weeks. They stayed in our lovely guest house that perches on a ridge overlooking the pond. My husband  and I and my brother and his wife have spent two or three weeks together every year for the past twelve years. We have been in Italy and France several times, to Alaska, to New Zealand and places closer to home. Sometimes our sisters were a part of these trips, but always it has been the four of us.

This time they came to visit us here and it was the best visit ever. I could be working in the garden and listen to my brother playing his violin from the porch on the guest house. We read and talked our heads off about books and politics and family. They loved the outdoor shower and the walks through the woods and the panorama of Florida spring with the wild yellow jasmine vines in the trees. We ate marvelous dinners and took day trips all around the vicinity and we had friends over and we sat on the bench by the pond and watched the birds.

It was a perfect visit from this big brother of mine. How I enjoyed the several hours when he prepared a bed for the strawberries and tenderly inserted the plants into the compost amended bed. When it's a long visit, everything doesn't have to be addressed immediately; important issues come in bits, more to come later.

Everyone Wants Money

Most of the calls I receive these days are from people wanting money:  requests from paramedics and police in our community, the democrats, the environment, my college, breast cancer, all kinds of other worthy causes.

 But I have donor fatigue. If I give money to a particular cause all I get in response is a request for more and more. So, sometimes I listen to the pitch, and feel guilty as I say no to right now. Sometimes the folks who are earnestly making the pitch engage me. "So, can I put you down for a thousand bucks?" I think of these young people who are manning the phone banks who have been schooled to make the "Ask". Sometimes, I quietly hang up. I cannot deal with this. Sometimes I tell them that, quite frankly, I do not have the money, but thanks for asking.

When I attend community meetings, most of what we discuss is fundraising. These groups need money! Funds enable kids to make a trip to Washington, D.C., and play football.  Funds enable the community to furnish a community center or provide meals for needy kids, or make it possible for children to get dental care.

Everyone needs money! And I know money is out there. There are many small grants in reach. There are many prosperous people who would willingly give to a cause. There are many people who can buy expensive cars or boats or whatever, but never really think about how far a hundred bucks could go to fund a kid for a soccer club or three hundred meals on wheels. 

We need to have a redistribution of money in this society. Lots of people- the haves- just don't think about it. Our American society is very generous. We just need to be constantly reminded. When the media highlights a story about a kid needing a lung transplant, money pours in . When the media has a story about a miserable dog that was shot with an arrow, or was spurned by our governor, money pours in.

We all do what we can, generous Americans that we are.

But I am not picking up the phone for Telefund - ever!

Everyone Wants Money

Most of the calls I receive these days are from people wanting money:  requests from paramedics and police in our community, the democrats, the environment, my college, breast cancer, all kinds of other worthy causes.

 But I have donor fatigue. If I give money to a particular cause all I get in response is a request for more and more. So, sometimes I listen to the pitch, and feel guilty as I say no to right now. Sometimes the folks who are earnestly making the pitch engage me. "So, can I put you down for a thousand bucks?" I think of these young people who are manning the phone banks who have been schooled to make the "Ask". Sometimes, I quietly hang up. I cannot deal with this. Sometimes I tell them that, quite frankly, I do not have the money, but thanks for asking.

When I attend community meetings, most of what we discuss is fundraising. These groups need money! Funds enable kids to make a trip to Washington, D.C., and play football.  Funds enable the community to furnish a community center or provide meals for needy kids, or make it possible for children to get dental care.

Everyone needs money! And I know money is out there. There are many small grants in reach. There are many prosperous people who would willingly give to a cause. There are many people who can buy expensive cars or boats or whatever, but never really think about how far a hundred bucks could go to fund a kid for a soccer club or three hundred meals on wheels. 

We need to have a redistribution of money in this society. Lots of people- the haves- just don't think about it. Our American society is very generous. We just need to be constantly reminded. When the media highlights a story about a kid needing a lung transplant, money pours in . When the media has a story about a miserable dog that was shot with an arrow, or was spurned by our governor, money pours in.

We all do what we can, generous Americans that we are.

But I am not picking up the phone for Telefund - ever!

Warm Weather!

 I am foolishly crazy about growing our vegetable garden. I love those collards, so huge and resplendent now. Today I discovered a whole bunch of cauliflowers, already heading nicely. You would think that I would label what I have planted. But I do not. I love the wild abandon and the surprises when I find a whole row of carrots ready to pick! I love finding some of the last of the season's peppers, and those tomatoes left from the summer still top our salads. My goal is to plant something every day. Today I buried a bunch of sprouting potatoes and in a few weeks they'll be sprouting.

I work in the garden and spend a few minutes admiring the beauty of a lettuce bed with all its textures and colors. Sometimes I look out over the wonderful pristine landscape beyond the garden, and I am entirely happy.

Growing vegetables (and anything else!) takes time and sweat. I love planting and watering stuff but I hate the weeding and removal of spent vegetation. But it's all part of the process. My mate actually turned over the compost pile a few days ago, so now we have a really good mixture to use on the vegetables.

Our community garden also is doing famously and feeding lots of folks. The school kids work diligently with the plants and are taking home broccoli, collards, beans and other vegetables.

This evening I went out to our garden and picked broccoli for my supper. The coyotes were beginning to howl in the distance and the bats were flying around. Today's high was close to ninety degrees, way warmer than usual for this time of the year. It scares me. I love having this extended growing season and all the tremendous greenness, but I know in my heart that in ten days we could have a freeze. I like things to be normal.

Tomorrow I shall pick huge quantities of vegetables and take them to friends. It's great to be the idiosyncratic old lady who grows things!

About Gifts

Here is one of the best gifts ever. It did not come at Christmas, but sometime, just because. My best friend, Marie, gave me this orchid several years ago because she knew I love orchids and care for them with love and attention. This magnificent one now blooms twice a year and delights me over and over. To me, this orchid is the perfect gift: it was given with love, not to mark any particular moment or holiday, and she knew I would love it. She was right.

We have come to the end of this American holiday season when we all go into paroxysms of guilt and longing for the perfect gift for everyone. We spend too much on crap. The wrappings have been torn off, and most of the stuff hidden under those amazing, colorful, carbon emitting, and costly wrappings have long been assigned to the back of the closet, or exchanged for something we really wanted, and in the right size.

I do this too. I make my to-give list for family and friends, and I send stuff off to them. I do not want them to think me churlish or ungiving. I want them to think well of me (maybe).

Some people are extraordinary gift givers, and they love the opportunity! I think of my sister, Maria, who listens in July when I say to her that what I really would like is a statue of St. Francis for my garden. So, at Hannukah, this perfect statue appears! I think of my sister-in-law, Nancy, who knows I love those certain pears, sends them at Christmas. I think of my daughter who makes home-made items I love - and give them to us at Christmas. Why Christmas?

What are REAL gifts?  We don't really know how to ask for what we want! When you'd really like some cash to pay a baby sitter, you get a hand cream dispenser. When you'd really like some cash to pay for car repairs you get a hood for your snow-blower. When you'd really like some some help with computer issues, you get hand-made soap.

Dear Abby is full of folks complaining about the lack of thanks for these things. I kind of know where they are coming from. Yeah, no one thanks anyone anymore, and momentarily I think that nevermore will I send this or that for the dutiful Christmas gift, since it seems they don't care. (neither do I!)

I have made donations to Heifer in the name of giving those folks a hive of bees or a goat to make a difference in the third world. But whatever it is - goats, bees, a new bike, big part of a tuition for college, checks, keyboard, it's all the same- just stuff. So, now I just send my donations to these organizations straight. You just do what you do because it is the right thing to do.

So, I come back to gift giving. Why are we so consumed with this during the holidays?

I have many friends with whom I do not exchange gifts, cards, or anything for the holidays. And yet, we would do anything for each other!

At Christmas, for the first time away from home in fifty years, we were with our son and young family in their home. The amount of gifts under the tree was prodigious! I was particularly amazed with the expensive gifts of clothing and small electric things the outlying family gave to each other. Lots of this was probably stuff they needed. But I could not help thinking about their credit card debt for all this loot! I was warmed by the total caring and attention these folks had for each other. I have a lot to learn!

Giving in the holiday season is an affirmation of being a consumer. My partner, in his quiet way, does not participate in Christmas. He knows that I will do the minimum to keep the troops quiet. Sometimes in the heeby-jeebies of the night I wish he would give me a gift of something he thought I would love, something inviting that I didn't have to tell him. But he gives me the gift of self. What more could anyone want?

Thinking about Gifts

New Kind of Christmas

They are wearing matching Christmas suits! Silvio, eleven, is so loving with his twin brother and sister.

It was a different kind of Christmas for us, not being at home.

We flew a thousand miles to be with our son's family. We had six of our eight grand kids there. The twins had a wonderful time eating the wrapping paper and tumbling around from arms to arms, crawling like mad from room to room and cruising along on the furniture. They are that delicious age of nine months, plump and cute, just starting to speak, so curious and accepting of everything.

The twins' three brothers were there, amazing young adults and Silvio the eleven year old. Their cousin Quincy, eight, rounded out the grandchild contingent.

What really delighted me was observing how my son and his wife took so naturally to the noisy hubub of managing this family of five kids ranging in age from nine months to nineteen years old, and a huge number of family and friends who came on Christmas.

Our son has the wonderful capacity of being able to work full bore in a very responsible position in state government, and then, when he is off, he's Dad. He makes his life for his family fun and warm. He cooked a huge Christmas dinner for thirty and seemed to love every minute of it. When the babies needed anything, he was there for changing or feeding or reading them a story.

I loved how he and his wife have such a natural rhythm for getting stuff done, paying attention to each other and to the kids. My daughter-in-law is just the best! I love how she is easy and accepting. And I love her style of making sure those twins eat only organic and home made food, no fake stuff in their environment. But she's not shrill about this. She just does it. She clearly loves this part of life when she's majorly on duty as the Mom. And anyone can clearly see that these twins, who were quite premature, are thriving like crazy.

Someday, probably soon, this woman will go back to working full time at an outside job, and I know she'll have a huge array of help to do it.

It was a wonderful Christmas, very interesting. And I am still enjoying the chocolates!

The House on the Side of the Road

Many years ago when we first lived here so far out in the boondocks we found a cross stitched sampler in an antique store that said " Let me live in a house by the side of the road and be a friend to man." We bought it and installed it in front of the toilet in the powder room, where it has been ever since throughout many new themes and coats of paint. I thought about this old beloved piece today. Out of the corner of my eye I saw from my studio window an unusual sight. Here came a young man on a loaded bicycle, pedaling like mad from the farm track to the north. He stopped at the cattle gap and went across it. I went out to greet him as he threw the bike down near our front door. Clearly, he was in trouble. Reminded me of the many lost hunting dogs that find their way here, knowing we will return them to where they are supposed to be. It turned out that this young man had been lost in the woods for four days, and somehow found his way to our doorstep. We stuck out our hands (Tracy and Molly). "Come in for breakfast" was the first thing I said. It never occurred to me then to be suspicious. Obviously, he was not packing an assault rifle. O.K. The bathroom is that way, and then come and sit down and I will feed you. I stirred up four eggs, ten sausages, four English muffins, strong hot coffee, orange juice, no questions asked. (Are you vegan,vegetarian, gluten free?) This guy would have eaten the wallpaper, and a traditional huge breakfast was just right. I asked him if he had celebrated Christmas and he was somewhat noncommittal. His mother had dropped him off with his canoe and bike at the state park up the road. As he ate everything on the plate he politely told us of his adventure on the river. There was some weird stuff, such as was why did he not have a better grip on the geography of where he was, how could he have gone out on a four day trip without any food? Or a compass? How could he have portaged his canoe and the bike? (This would have killed me!) But, still, here was this friend to man, needing sustenance, and here we were by the side of the road, extending friendship. We learned little about him as he ate steadily. I could see that his arms were very strong and he told us that he took no food on his trip because he expected to forage for food. He was not a hunter, but he wanted to fish for food. He did eat some fungus from trees but was sickened by it because he had not boiled it. The recent frost killed so many green plants he was unable to find much to eat. I wanted to ask him botany questions about food foraging, but he was clearly focusing on the breakfast. We did find out that he was unemployed, laid off as a tech trouble shooter, went to college, lives with his mom, has a girl friend,not a hunter, loves nature. He was very polite and I could see that he was exhausted from the four days he spent lost in the Green Swamp.I wondered what his back story is.. He only told us about adopting a baby fox and how great it was. I guess I should have been more cautious, more suspicious. I should have examined his voluminous bike packs for assault weapons or hand guns. But, trusting person as I am, I did not. I invited him in. (And I do this with the lost dogs, too!) After breakfast and many thanks, we hoisted his bike into the truck and dropped him off in town. We exchanged phone numbers and expect he'll be back to collect his canoe on the bank of the river. When he said, "How can I repay you?", we only told him to pay it forward to the next time. He got it. These funny and strange encounters with our fellow man give me hope to think that we all Americans, weird as we all are, can welcome each other and still trust. Tears still spring from my eyes when I think about the carnage in Newtown. Those survivor kids will have a long way to go before they trust again. But it can happen. We must make it happen. Wishing you all a New Year of peace and love.

Families Happen

 Like everyone else, mostly, I have this vast family connected to me by DNA. Of course, I love and treasure them, and connect with them over thousands of miles whenever we can. We visit back and forth and it is so important to me to be in contact with all my eight grandchildren.

Because we live so far from most of our family we have our "family" here as well. Here is Maria, the sister I adopted many years ago in Italy. She is wearing the robe I gave her for her trip up north where it will be cold.

 We both needed a sister (I already had one, she had none). You can't have too many sisters! In case you're thinking this beautiful woman is some kind of desperate orphan - NOT! She's a famous and published anthropologist, and we happened to do the adoption in Italy because we were both there having an amazing holiday and it seemed the right thing to do.

In this photo she's wearing the new robe I gave her for the family Hannuka celebration last week. In our mutual adoption, I got a new brother-in-law, my grandson got a wonderful uncle, all of us got new family we treasure.

This weekend another part of our "family" is here. This is a family of four- Peter, Anne. Stephan and Phil. This family has been visiting our ranch for years and we have watched their two boys grow up. Together we have explored the woods and swamps and fields. We have shared so many meals, talks and walks and heavy work cutting downed trees and mowing the fields. More than any 'real' relation, this family truly gets it why we love this place.

We are hoping that they will be able to buy some of the acreage next to ours.. So much to think about that.

Their boys do not have any living grandparents, and I think they may regard us as some kind of surrogate. This family is our family forever.

And, so important under my heart as an outlier part of my family is Warren, the cowboy we inherited when we bought this land more than twenty years ago. Warren owns and takes care of the cattle on our place. He is a suspicious guy who takes his time figuring out anyone. But, now, he and I are thick as thieves, we hug a lot, have conversations about cows and vegetables and the weather. He is so different from me politically, but I know he is not ever mean spirited (the deer he kills is butchered and sent to the local food banks) Warren would do anything for me and I would do the same for him. He's family to me.

Last Friday as the massacre was happening in Newtown, I was in a public school first grade making latkes with the kids.

Terrible week, thinking about this. What I do know is that the IRA is totally on the wrong track!

Families happen in the most serendipitous ways. My little family of those first graders grating the potatoes and onions, asking questions, trusting.

Family happens!

Festival of Lights

 Here is my grandson Quincy last night lighting the last candle for Hannukah. There is my brother-in-law supervising.

I love this part of our family tradition when we all sit down to the usual knishes and latkes and everything else and we exchange all those wonderful and wacky gifts. My sister Maria listened when many months ago I said I really wanted a statue of St. Francis for my garden. So there it was- tasteful and the perfect size to guard my water garden.

We are certainly diverse; our family includes all colors, ethnicities and religions. And we celebrate like mad! This night we were especially tender as we thought about the tragedy in Connecticut but never spoke about it in front of Quincy. None of us could bear what those parents who lost their children have to do. So we hold him tighter and laugh as he releases the big slinky down the back stairs and we hear the clanks going down. We laugh as he manoeuvers his new robotic spider under the table and over our feet, and we scream.

Next week we'll be going to visit five of our other grandchildren in Connecticut. We'll celebrate Christmas with all the decorations and twin babies crawling around eating the wrapping paper and bigger ones eager to tell us what they have been doing since we last saw them. We won't be eating latkes. We'll be feasting on traditional Puertorican food, and probably a dab of some traditional English fare.

We'll rush in on Christmas Eve morning on a blast of cold air, so eager to see everyone and hugs and kisses and how you've grown and is there any time left to run out to the CVS for more stocking stuffers.

I do love the holidays! I am glad we do not have to have our own Christmas tree here, but I am looking forward to the one I'll see soon. (And I am looking forward to chocolates!)

Happy Holidays, friends. Hold tight to your family, hug your kids. Pray for peace and love.

Food, Glorious Food!

The New York Times says that dinner parties are dead. The Tampa Bay Times says, not really. From my perspective, I'd say that dinner parties are alive and thriving. We have always given dinner parties, but not the Manhattan kind where everything is exquisite. What we do is invite folks, mostly close to the last minute. "Hey, we have some great fish, come on over!" Or, more formally, a week or two in advance. At the ranch where we mostly live, we often invite local people to round out the weekend guests we frequently have. Our local friends usually bring eggs from their own chickens, or whatever interesting produce they have. We send them home with our garden produce, maybe some good books or puzzles. More often than not we have many dogs flopping around in the dining room and kids taking their places at the table. My husband who does all the cooking takes into consideration all the dietary needs (gluten free, vegan, vegetarian etc.) and comes up with wonderful menus everyone likes. The vegetables and salad come from our garden out back. I set the farm style table with colorful and casual stuff (Martha Stewart would be proud), and my eight year old grandson places and lights the candles. I am not concerned with how people dress! Just be clean, no bare torsos, no ball caps inside. The conversation will be great. And the food, the glorious food is stellar! Some of our friends are truly great cooks, and I think that it invigorates my husband to do the little extra when they come. Of course, in these dinner parties, we all eat the same things. Sometimes people who are staying in the guest house contribute dessert or something else. What truly interests me is that we all have to eat and we must eat the stuff we grow and cook from scratch. We must realize that eating is a social thing that is fun to do together. In doing this we'll all be slim and fit (even after scraping the last bits out of the lemon souffle pan!) Dinner parties give me courage to set forth again and again in this community where I labor so hard at growing a garden for all and find it uphill work where I daily encounter people who never cook from scratch, never have the wonderful experience of eating good food together and consume calories mostly from fast food and the Dollar General.

Grandma's Favorites

Dispirited with the Public Schools

I have stopped comparing the public schools where I volunteer to the one private school I once ran. Now, five years into my volunteer experiences, I am still appalled. There is a reason why Obama sends his kids to Sidwell Friends School. There is a reason why I send my grandson to private school. If a family can afford it you opt for a school that isn't the deadening and lackluster place where FCAT is paramount. The bottom line is that every child is worthy, some are very bright, most are average, and a few need more help. Here is my view of a public elementary school. In this particular one, a "D" school for the last couple of years, the sense of fear is palpable. Most of the teachers this year are new. They take seriously all the meetings and visits from THE STATE. If the rating cannot go up to at least a C, they will be toast. And so, this involves lots of nonsense about reading 100 minutes a day, no recess, no fun, no reading out loud. I have never gotten as much as a sniff to indicate that any of the teachers or administrators actually read anything! What about the kids? These high poverty kids need experiences! They need to do hands on stuff, play, talk, go outside to run and tumble. They need to have the experiences of growing things, cooking, sewing, measuring, building, playing games, talking! They need mulch for their minds! Teachers do not have any autonomy. I stroll through the classrooms and see in these bleak windowless rooms only neat canned and commercial things and directives on the walls. No art, no science nooks full of interesting things, no creative toys,no live pets to care for, no inviting reading spaces. It shrivels my heart. No joy. Several of us from our local town garden club got a grant to install a school/community vegetable garden. And now, this garden is incredibly bountiful, bursting with all kinds of vegetables. We are eager to cook with the kids who have grown this. When the classes come to the garden,water and weed, pick the produce, and prepare and eat it, it's wonderful! But, so often, we find that most of the teachers really have no idea that there is this great garden out back. They are so hunkered down doing their so many minutes of FCAT prep, there is no time to look up. To say the least, it is uphill work introducing these kids and families and teachers who live in a food desert, to good eating and nutrition. We certainly do not feel valued at all. Except by the kids! One of the faceless and gray people from "THE STATE" accidentally crashed our worm farm to the floor the other day. No apology, just a terse directive to get the custodian to clean up the dirt. I wonder how this school could be if it had a real sense of community? I wonder how it would be if those humorless and gray folks from "THE STATE" would just go away and the teachers could really talk about how education in their school could be, take on the challenge together? I wonder how it would be if everyone was not fearful? I wonder how it would feel to a first year teacher to be able to actually run their ideas by their peers,and be challenged by the best profession, teaching? Who cares what grade this school gets? The point is to educate kids. I notice as I roam around that these kids are sorely lacking in writing skills, math, and of course, no one actually reads for pleasure, and NO ONE READS ALOUD ON A REGULAR BASIS to kids! This total devotion to upping the school grade is devastating to any real meaning of education. Kids do not work this way. To have kids really be good readers they have to have a lot of experiences to hang up there in their minds. If you are reading about geese, for example, you need to have your kids actually see a goose! You can't make sense of sea life if you don't have those kids go to the seashore with a seine net. You can't make sense of history unless you take the kids to the local history museum and let them touch old stuff. It is nothing useful for reading and anything else to just make kids hunker down with commercial materials that are foreign to them. The commercial education companies, which are the drivers of all this,are in it for the money. They have made us all afraid. I believe that every kid is pretty much above average, every kid is valuable, and we owe it to them to make their childhood joyful,interesting, safe, and provide them with the skills they need for life. I want our principals, superintendent, lead teachers to lead the way and not be afraid to really really TEACH our kids.

What was I Thinking? Twenty for Thanksgiving!

Feels like I have just finished a cruise! We are just putting away the last of the laundry and six dishwasher loads of stuff from this feast.

On the day, we began by amassing all the stuff- the turkey, the salmon, all the vegetables from the garden,the cranberries, the potatoes, the ingredients for the gluten free, the vegetarians,and all the rest. We have our plan of attack affixed to the fridge. Our daughter has set up the tables for twenty in the hall, corralled enough chairs, made the table look beautiful and bountiful, set up the table for the wonderful hors d'oeuvres my sister will bring. Grandson Quincy is on board to light the many candles (and he looks splendid in fresh clothes and very large black shoes!) As sou chef I spend the morning washing and chopping vegetables, cleaning as we go, and the chef works on preparing the stuffing, marinating the turkey, knowing all. At some point it seems that everything is ready to go. Broccoli, beans and collards are washed, chopped, ready in their steamers. Potatoes are peeled and ready to be mashed and the butter and garlic is at the ready. The stuffing is in the oven with the turkey. An amazing green and red salad from the garden is washed and spun and ready to be dressed. My sister comes and lays out her appetizers on the porch table (and immediately we all dig in! She makes an incredible spinach pesto loaf, olives, tapenade..) Now folks are arriving, the table is set, drinks are set out. We have been on our feet since dawn (and we are not Martha Stewart!). The best part of the day is when people begin to gather - friends and family we have not seen in a long time, and others we have not yet met. There are hugs and inquiries, people bringing pies and orchids and bottles of wine. In this last part of a Florida afternoon the light is lovely and warm so our guests wander about and enjoy the place. Of course, there is always way too much food! We toast our happiness and good fortune, and dig in to the bounty of food. After the pies and the coffee we repair to the fireplace room (and several of us take turns loading the dishwasher over and over!) No one here turns on the T.V. to watch football. What we did was to do some stargazing with the help of my brother-in-law's i-pad. And, of course, there was the usual clot of folks who talked politics. So, it was a wonderful traditional American Thanksgiving. We gave thanks for the outcome of the election, for not having any Hurricanes here,for our health and happiness, for friends and family, for frogs. Lots of folks spent the night so there were the arrangements of sheets, blankets, where to brush your teeth, do they have enough covers, etc. Brother-in-law Jay prepared breakfast the next morning for everyone: local eggs, bagels, lox, tomatoes and the works. Grandma Molly was k.p. and laundry queen, then captain of the walk through the fields and woods - and then, after all guests left, one could see her lying on the floor of her studio, maybe meditating, maybe thinking that... I love doing this! It does take a toll on us, but it's worth it! We are eternally thankful for all our blessings, our friends and family, our energy to be helpful in our community.

Football frenzies

O.K., people, you know who I am. Watching 60 minutes tonight about the huge driving force that football is in our universities, I was sickened. Here is this huge amount of money spent on the football programs, five million paid to the coach of Michigan (or was it Alabama?).

I know that many folks love their teams. My co in-laws go to every alumni game and bleat their brains out supporting it. I wonder how they would feel if our grandson was beating his head and body on the field as a regular practice?

Here's a proposal: Separate the football from the academic! Those football players should just play football with all the violence and danger and money. Make it a sort of sub professional league. Those young folks who wish to participate in this blood sport could do it without also having to do the charade of also being students. Perhaps they could also have some support about how to make it into professional teams and get on with a meaningful life.

What has football got to do with acquiring an education? Think of it- that brilliant girl or boy, starting out to save the world by studying environmental science has no interest in damaging his/her brain with the violence of football.

Let's put football in the same realm as casino gambling. Just go for it as the violent sport it is (kind of like dog fighting, maybe). Let it be totally profit driven, a business people can support or not.

But, this violent sport of football has no place in academia that I can see. Young people who are about getting an education need to do just that. If all college football programs went into another league, not connected to their college or  university we would actually see how much alumni support there is. Maybe not pretty, but realistic.

Sports have an important place in any academic program, but to have football with all its violence and entitlement be the driver of money acquisition seems to me to be callous and unethical. I am proud to be an Ivy League alumna with a crappy football team. I only wish they would dispense with it entirely!

The Problems of Powerful Men

During the Viet Nam war, my husband was drafted. Basically a pacifist, he could not see any alternative to going. Many of our friends got psychological and other waivers, but he believed in doing this thing that all American young men did. As a Harvard graduate, he had the chance to go to Officer Training School, and the perks and pay would be better. But he chose to be a PFC and see where that led.

He was not about to do any possible thing that led to killing people. He stayed stateside in boring jobs, dispensing dental floss and teaching English to new recruits. At one period he was fingered to be some kind of bomb demolition expert, but he did not pass security clearance (Our parents were Lefties). And this guy who could have been an amazing four star general, except for that inconvenient fact of his pacifism, went on to be a powerful person in journalism.

I remember dreaming about what would happen if he decided to be a military man, and thinking that that fact would lose him from me entirely.

Then our lives tumbled into great careers, the raising of a family, and by increments our financial position improved from the relative poverty when we were students. There were times, later on when we dined at the White House, danced at soirees given by the President of Argentina and Chili, toured Russia, ate incredible buffets put on by the King of Norway. But at home we painted our own house, went to soccer games, and our entertainments were largely just friends we cooked for.

We were beguiled by the opulence of many of the entertainments we attended, but, no way was this something we wanted to do. We were much more interested in the common folks we met, and any excess money was given away to causes we believe in.

I think that this Petraeus thing is having power gone wrong. I kind of have the French take on this: public is public, and don't lift up that private page. But I do wonder about this Jill Kelly person. She and her husband and sister seem to embody the worst sort of greed. She ensnares.

My husband would never be ensnared by the baubles of surface beauty and the entree to opulent living. Neither would our current president.

But still, we have lost an excellent public servant and it makes me sad.

Houseboat Trip/ Climate Change

We and four friends made our annual pilgrimage up the Suwanee River this week. We rented a houseboat and slowly wended our way up river, stopping at some of the springs that feed this magnificent waterway, a jewel of America.

Here you see the dawn just coming to the cypress trees, and as soon as the sun reaches the shoreline many turtles come out to bask on any available log.

All of us have slept on our cramped bunks, easily wakened to see the full moon on the water and hear the slapping of the tide on the bottom of the boat.

We rejoice in knowing that we are privileged to be a part of seeing this last pristine part of rural America. Three of us are scientists who work daily trying to understand how climate change will decimate this amazing place. We scan the banks with our binoculars and see such huge variety of critters as the tide rises and falls. We speak endlessly about what this place will be in twenty-five years, a century, more..

How could anyone just say they do not 'believe' in climate change? We know that the hurricane Sandy is going to hit the Northeast. And we are here on the vast river, no contact with the big world. (I am itchy to hear about how my northeast family is faring!)

The amazing panorama of river banks goes by, bird by bird, turtle by turtle, so many clots of flowers, and we revel in all of this. For four days we slowly travel up the river, stopping at some of the springs that feed it. We swim and hike.

And we have such a good time cooking for each other every night and talking our heads off (not about our kids: we have many.) We touch each other and cuddle like puppies. This time, the weather was cold and gusty and it was hard to make that houseboat behave in the wind and current, so it was kind of adventurous. Our captain was stellar! Everyone did anchors and lines
and it worked out.

In the cold windy weather we hunkered down inside and did a couple of jigsaw puzzles with the sun on our backs, lizards in the sun. And thought about the next meal! Every minute or two someone would alert us to something interesting out there on the river.

This annual expedition is a time out of time. Very little connectivity to the larger world. A cocoon of great friends you feel comfortable with (even with that horrid bathroom, and no privacy.) is the best.

I have a great need for physical activity, and on a houseboat, how to do it? Well, I went on up top of the boat at night when everyone else was settled down under the covers, took my i phone and ear buds, and danced at night by the light of the moon for the length of an album. No one below complained.

It was a wonderful trip, and as usual, I couldn't believe that five days had passed- and I never looked at my watch!

What would this amazing place be when the sea rises? We think of our children and grandchildren and beyond..