Merry Christmas, Married Christmas

     In my last post, around Thanksgiving time, I talked about books that foster change. I have discovered some resources while clearing out my condo in preparation for my move to Tel Hai with my new husband. They come from the Southern Poverty Law Center in Birmingham, Alabama. Teaching Peace is a theme that permeates them. Check out the website. They do important work and deserve our support.
      One week ago today Tom McLay and I were married. We had a weekend full of celebrations with family from all over — my siblings and son and granddaughters from western Pennsylvania and Ohio, and Tom's relatives from Texas, Colorado, and Virginia, as well as the fairly local children and grandchildren. Such a disparate group, and how we enjoyed each other! We partied from Friday through Sunday. The whole event seemed perfect. At least we will remember it as such.
     I have such a sense of God's abundant blessings poured out, heaped up and running over. I feel enormous gratitude. My prayer, waking and sleeping, goes, "Thank you, thank you, thank you."
      At the Christmas Eve service last night, I welled up at the memory of my father taking me to my first midnight service. I recalled my awe, my reverence, the absolute sense of coming home the liturgy engendered. That eight-year-old could not have imagined the decades-long journey she would take. Looking back, I can only say, "Thanks be to God."
      May all who read this have a blessed Christmas.

To Think About

"A book ought to be an ax to break the frozen sea within us."
                                                   — Anton Chekov

     I am rereading Mountains Beyond Mountains by Tracy Kidder in preparation for my review of the book at our next book club meeting. Once again I am struck by Dr. Paul Farmer's singleminded pursuit of healing for the people in the mountains of Haiti. He has been incredibly persistent. He has also been lucky in his choice of educational institution to find a place that accommodates his style of learning.

     I will post more about this as I find other resources that speak to the situation in Haiti.

     It is a long time since I posted to my blog. School keeps me very busy, and I have been traveling as well. The first trip was to an Elderhostel event in Chinle, Arizona. We stayed on the Navajo reservation and visited the Canyon de Chelly, a magnificent place with petroglyphs and ancient dwellings that had gone to ruin and were no longer occupied. The red rock weathered differently according its composition, and resulted in incredibly beautiful formations. The place has a sense of mystery and holiness that is hard to describe.
     We also saw Navajo weavers, potters, and silversmiths at work; a storyteller guided us through the tale of The Long Walk. We learned a Navajo word each day, too. It was an immersion in the culture.
     Albuquerque, NM, was our next stop. The Albuquerque International Balloon Festival takes place every year. This year 500 balloons participated. We attended the mass ascension on October 2nd, an event that began at 5:30 a.m. and went on for hours. About 200 of them went up that first morning. It was jaw-dropping.
     Sightseeing and visiting family occupied the rest of our time. Of particular note was a walking tour of Old Santa Fe led by Joel Stein, a veteran tour guide, published guidebook author, and friend. We also liked the Nuclear Museum. I was impressed by the periodic table of elements done in polished stones of various kinds in the main entry hall.
     This was a vacation that needed a period of recuperation afterwards!

More school things

     Fall brings changes in the weather and changes in my students' lives as well. Last week we had a big drop in attendance. I did not think about this right away, but one of the other teachers told me that her class attendance had dropped to less than half, and she thought the weather was responsible. As I considered this, I looked back over the week. Rain, chill, rain and big winds — yes, the weather could have played a role. I'd had hints of trouble brewing when one student said her grandmother in Puerto Rico was sick and her sister (also a student) was going to PR to take care of her.
     Then I received a note in Spanish from another mother, stating that her son had been sick and I should please excuse his absences. He brought the note, but that was the only day he came. I assume he is still sick.
     One student has had spotty attendance, but promised to start back next week because her mother is laid off and can now babysit her two-year-old daughter.
     One student returned early from a nursing assistant training program. He said they had two chapters of homework every night, and the next day had one hour to finish 75 questions on a test. He felt overwhelmed.
     Three-fourths of the class are not native English-speakers. They face myriad challenges. Many have diplomas from their country of origin. It takes lots of reading and writing to raise students' reading to the level required to pass the GED test.
     Every teaching day is busy and takes planning, and sometimes I just have to make do with whatever and whoever shows up. But most of all I recognize how much effort it takes to stay on the path to a GED. Thank you, students, for your stories that spur me to get up and get going every day!

Politics!

     My student Becky was late this morning. I was surprised. She is never late. But she arrived at 10:30 with an amazing story to tell.
     Becky is an activist. She speaks up and speaks out. She volunteers for the phone bank for political campaigns and rings doorbells and hands out political flyers. Today she was accompanying Joe Sestak on  his campaign visit to downtown Reading.
     Becky related to the class how she had walked next to Mr. Sestak. She showed us how tall he is. As she walked beside him, she told him, "I'm your security in the 'hood." We all laughed.
     She brought Joe Sestak campaign flyers to us, and we all got one. The class gave her a round of applause for civic involvement, and for showing up at class too.
     It was a wonderful moment!

For God Alone My Soul in Silence Waits

When I was a young mother, my children would come to me full of stories of injustices in school or on the playground, arguments they’d had with friends, complaints of unfair treatment by a teacher, and the other myriad challenges children face when growing up.  As they talked, I would interject remarks that I deemed helpful, well-intentioned solutions. One day one of the children said, “Mom, I don’t want you to solve it.  I just want you to listen!”

            What a wake-up moment for me!  I had been too ready to put in my two-cents’ worth instead of letting them finish speaking.  I should have been saying, “What do you plan to do about this?”

            I still struggle with this. The other day my daughter said, “Face it, Mom, you’re a fixer.”  I like to think of myself as a recovering fixer.  Every once in a while I relapse, but mostly I try to be present to people as an attentive listener.

            This works equally well in my prayer life.  Many times I am tempted to assault the ears of the Almighty with a litany of pains, woes, complaints, griefs, miseries — the list could go on.  But for me, answers do come.

            What do I do?  I sit in silence, focusing on my breath.  I might have an image, saying, or list of concerns nearby, but I do not obsess about those.  I sit in silence and I breathe, and remain attentive, and in that silence I find peace, healing, restoration, and sometimes answers.

            The art of listening is a gift to others and to oneself.

New School Year

     Today was the first day of school. Not ordinary school, where students have been attending for three weeks or so and the new clothes have lost a bit of their shine. Today was the first day of classes for ABE and GED students at Reading Area Community College. Adult Basic Education classes are the steppingstone to a General Educational Development diploma, and these are my students. Today I had 13 in attendance, and one student who had car trouble will be there tomorrow.
     They come from Haiti, El Salvador, and other places local and far away. Some of them have never read a complete book. We will change that this fall.
     Their reasons for taking the class vary, but have a common theme. They want to better themselves. They are committed to working hard and attending three mornings a week.
     I tell them that this is not like other schools they have attended. In our class, if you get stuck and the teacher is busy with another student, you ask a neighbor for help. If someone looks at your paper and says, "How did you do that?" you should tell them. We help each other. We know that we each learn in our own way, on our own time clock, and we don't get discouraged if we have trouble. We keep on working. The only way you won't make it in my class is if you quit coming, I tell them.
     I say that learning is like the question, "How do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time!" One bit of information at a time, we build the ladder of learning.
     The first day is like a pep rally interspersed with information, mainly Student Rights and Responsibilities. The real work begins tomorrow. We are ready!

Fun at the Beach

Tom 

The family

     I'm slowly reentering ordinary time after the week at the beach. It was an amazing introduction to Tom's family. They are a constellation of stars, with some supernovas thrown in for good measure, and it was such fun to get to know them.  We had amazing food cooked by a different group each night. Lots of grilling. Buena played guitar Friday night, and she and Dina sang for us. Such talent!
     Tom's family has done this group vacation every year for a long time. It's a great way to maintain family bonds.

Photos by Buena Peacock Henry

The beach!

     It has been a wonderful few days at the beach in Corolla, NC. Tom's family does these mass vacations every year, and this year we're in a 9-bedroom, 9.5 bath beach house accessible only by 4WD over the sand. The weather has been good and wild ponies wander the area. I have some good photos but have to figure out how to incorporate them into the blog. Taking turns cooking -- the food is terrific. I've had long walks on the beach every day when the sun is low in the sky. We're here till Saturday. Such fun!

"So Much Happiness"

     That is the title of a poem by Naomi Shihab Nye, and it describes how I feel to a T. Tom and I plan to marry in December, when friends and relatives from far and near can fit us into their holiday plans and we won't interfere with school and work. I have heard that these days weddings take a year or more of advance planning, but we want our life together to start as soon as possible, so we're compressing the timeline. Makes the planning a bit of a bobsled ride!
     Saturday I will have the opportunity to spend a week with his family in a large beach house on the Outer Banks. Ah, the beach, my favorite of all places. Well, maybe not better than Paris, but certainly equal. They each have their own charms. I'm looking forward to this with great anticipation.
     Google "So Much Happiness." It's good to remind ourselves that happiness floats.
 

Life is Full of Surprises

     The days since I returned from my sister's surgery have been a whirlwind of activity, and a fireworks of surprises. The day I got home, my ballroom dancing partner of over a year asked me to marry him — and I said yes! Such an unexpected thing, and so filled with joyous possibility. Tom is a wonderful human being, a man of intelligence and humor and joie de vivre. A spacecraft designer, actually. Retired. And a terrific dancer, especially swing dancing, which I have never done in my life before now. We never run out of things to talk about. He loves learning and traveling.
     So at this point I find myself planning a wedding. Imagine! I could never have predicted it. But life has proven time and again to be filled with blessings large and small. I am so grateful. One more reason to say Thanks be to God.

Waiting

     Last week my sister Dorothy had surgery for a brain aneurysm. One week ago today my sister Ruth and brother Dick and his wife Kathy, Dorothy's husband Frank, her son Chris and daughter-in-law Sonia and I held a vigil at UPMC in Shadyside (Pittsburgh). A superbly skilled neurosurgeon opened her skull, lifted her brain, and clamped the artery on both sides of the aneurysm, rendering it harmless.
     The whole event was a study in serendipity. The aneurysm was discovered through a CT scan and MRI to diagnose a persistent, severe headache. Chris had trained as a nurse anesthetist at UPMC and had worked with Dr. Wecht, the neurosurgeon. The man administering the anesthesia was a classmate of Chris's in the nurse anesthetist program. So Dorothy was in the best possible hands.
     Waiting through the hours of surgery and the post-op period, watching for her gurney to roll by on the way from the recovery room to ICU, waiting till we could see her — through all that time we were very aware of being upheld by hundreds of people praying.
     I was also delighted to have extended time with my relatives. They are a bright, funny, energetic, interesting group of people, and we don't get to spend nearly enough time together. This was a bonus — time to share photos, catch up on the minutiae of our lives, share iPhone apps, and generally enjoy each other. There was the underlying tension of waiting for the end of the procedure, of course. But we were distracted by each other, so the waiting wasn't too onerous. I think we all had the feeling that things would be all right.
     And that was reinforced as she was wheeled past the waiting room on the way to ICU, when she said to Frank and Chris, "Somebody get that guy's license plate." Frank: "What license plate?" Dorothy: "The truck that ran over me." We knew she was back, and intact.
     Saturday she came home. Sunday I talked to her for twenty minutes. She is herself. Now it's a matter of slowly getting back into her routine, healing from the inside out. But there is time for that. Thanks be to God.
    

Healing and Other Mercies

     Last Thursday I filled in for another writer who is teaching a series of classes here at the GoggleWorks. An intimate group of eight, the writers are multi-faceted and talented. We did some writing exercises, not calisthenics but wordplay. What a treat! What fun to hear their words! We had an interesting discussion about the power of writing to put emotions on the page, to resolve angers and griefs, to bring about a feeling of wholeness.
     The church I grew up in has experienced a shock wave of sorts, revelations of misconduct by a diocesan official long gone, and the current bishop has issued a pastoral letter regarding the matter. He is clear about naming the issue and apologizing for it on behalf of the diocese. The letter has within it the seeds of healing and hope for all those affected and for all future members of the church. Writing has power. Naming the wrong has power. An abject apology begins to resolve the bewilderment, the powerlessness, the lostness, the anger and hurt and humiliation.
     The words have begun the healing. May it continue, with God's grace.

The Robin's Nest

  










The mother robin has become rather accustomed to being photographed and having her nest photographed. However, after the babies hatched, the father would perch on the deck next door and scold loudly until one went inside.

It's also tricky to keep the flowers watered in this heat, without getting the chicks wet. Wouldn't want them to catch cold!

Thanks to Judith Hodgkinson for the photos.

Nesting

     Two weeks ago, in a pot of pansies on the deck, I discovered that a robin had built her nest — and had laid three beautiful eggs! This precluded use of the deck for the coming month or so, and has provided a daily changing scene. The mother has been sitting faithfully, flying off to a nearby tree and scolding until I leave. Late last week two of the eggs hatched, and almost immediately one of the hatchlings was seen outside of the nest in the flowers. Can't imagine why. Perhaps there was some defect, or perhaps the larger hatchliing pushed it out. In any case, it died a day or so later. The third egg hatched and now there are two chicks in the nest. Whenever anyone comes near, they stretch their necks and open their beaks wide. You can see clear down their gullets, it seems! Father is now involved as well, and is helping feed them.
     At some point in the last day or two, the dead chick disappeared without a trace. I understand that robins are meticulous housekeepers, so they may have taken care of it somehow.
     I felt the urge to clear out some detritus yesterday too. It seems more peaceful, the less "stuff" there is around. We all make our nests, don't we?

Going Home

      I am visiting my sister and brother-in law in the town next door to the place I grew up. It's part of the Rust Belt, where even 30 years ago (the last time I returned for an extended stay) the steel mills were closed and the economy was suffering. Wives were working two or three jobs to hold things together, while men who'd formerly labored in the mills hunted, fished, drank, and boasted that they'd never work for a mere $10 an hour.

      Now, it is hard to describe the desolation of the downtown area. The large department stores are gone. The local mainstay for shoppers where I worked in the credit department is now an outlet store. The bridge across which I walked to the bank carrying the day's deposit of cash and checks has been refurbished and I can no longer see the water through it. The local bank to which I walked (with my gun-toting bodyguard Don a few paces behind) has been subsumed by a mega-bank. 

      Even the suburban malls, which once held a promise of shiny new life, are shells of their former selves. Blacktop parking lots are punctuated by tufts of grass or weeds. 

      Some things are the same, though. The family that bought my parents' home, the house where I grew up, is taking good care of it. Flowers bloom, the porch is painted, and at night the porch light is on, as it was so many years ago.

      My youngest granddaughter is growing up a few blocks from the old place, in another family's once-treasured home. She likes her new house and her neighborhood. She has friends there. May she treasure this time when she is grown and revisits it.

 

Life and Other Mysteries

"Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans" — John Lennon

     I was talking to a friend the other day. We hadn't seen each other for a while, and we were catching up on events in our lives. "Just when I think I can get going, something else happens," she said. Since I seem to be thinking in pictures these days, I have two images for this.
     The first picture that comes to mind is that of a lumberjack trying to stay on his feet during a log roll competition, twirling the log around and around‚ and the log suddenly doesn't spin as it has been doing. And the man falls into the water. Dripping wet, he clambers out of the water and back onto the log, where he spins it again. Once again he loses his balance — once again he falls into the water. This goes on and on. Sometimes the intervals are short between falls, and sometimes they are longer. In any case, another fall seems certain to come. I told her life is like a log roll: we think we're rolling along and then kerplunk! we're in the soup from a health issue, or a clash of personalities, or a job loss. And we somehow clamber back up and carry on.
     The other image is what I call "Sproing." You may be thinking, What's that? But you've seen it. Think Tom and Jerry cartoon. The hero is racing to get a piece of cheese or some other reward, and he's really, really rushing, feet a blur, and suddenly — Sproing! his suspenders have been tied to a stake and he comes flying back to the starting point. Sometimes life seems a bit like that, too.
     However it happens, we are always in the midst of our lives as they unfold, probably not exactly as we had planned. What keeps me going is faith, a faith that when I set my foot on an unknown place, it won't be thin air; there will be something under it to hold me up. By the grace of God.

Rhythms

     I was driving to my daughter's place yesterday on a highway that runs through the counties of Lancaster and Berks into Lehigh County. The day was sauna-like when I left my studio at the GoggleWorks. Bright sun alternated with clouds, so my sunglasses were on and off. I'm always captivated by the fields I pass, some newly planted in corn that seems to be growing as I watch, some in the distance looking like patchwork quilts. The area is replete with farm stands and small shops.
     Near Kirbyville I approached a farm stand that seemed to have an explosion of afterthoughts on its signs. The painted sign for strawberries had a cardboard addendum crayoned "raspberries." Signs for spinach and rhubarb had cardboard addenda for lettuce, sugar snap peas, and asparagus. There were others which I can't remember, but my mouth was watering. Then I reached the stand, where I saw one final addendum to the signage: Closed Sundays. (in red)
     The rhythm of farming is practiced here, not the rhythm of commerce. The growing season demands intense effort for some six months or so, dawn to dusk. This cannot be sustained without periods of rest, and most of these stands are closed on the Sabbath. Not at all like other commercial establishments, where everything is available all day, every day, 24/7. It is good to be reminded that to everything there is a season, a time for every purpose under heaven, and to know that those who provide our fresh fruits and vegetables have their priorities straight. We need rest to replenish our bodies and spirits. I was glad to be reminded of this.
     The drive home was fraught with tension, as torrential downpours lowered visibility and drivers slowed their speeds. I'm sure the farmers were glad for the rain.
     To everything there is a season.  Thanks be to God.

Resurrection Times

     I've been visiting my dear friend Mary at the local hospital all week. Last Saturday when I saw her there for the first time, I was shocked at her appearance and her frailty. Through Sunday and Monday we talked about her condition. I asked if she had anything she wanted to say. She gave me a couple of small tasks to do for her funeral. We shed a few tears. Mostly we just held hands and were quiet.
     Then, Tuesday morning she was a bit better. Three of her friends (mine too) came from her church, and we had lots of laughs. It was a real party atmosphere. Mary began to improve. Wednesday morning when I arrived, she said she felt like she had a second chance at living, and we celebrated. She walked. She got off the oxygen. She had occupational and physical therapy. Yesterday she went to a nursing home near her home, where her husband and friends can visit much more easily. She will have rehab and, hopefully, return home in a few weeks. It was a real resurrection moment — we both felt it and rejoiced.
     I have been thinking since then about the many resurrection moments in a person's life, times when we feel that all hope is gone and we are helpless to change the course of events. And then something happens. A plant we thought was dead sends out new leaves. A lost opportunity presents itself in a new, better form.  A relationship we thought was failed is mended and renewed. I am reminded of the psalmist's verse: Weeping may spend the night, but joy comes in the morning. Thanks be to God.

A Moral Dilemma??

     Today I was at the bookstore having coffee and browsing through a collection of interesting books when a curious thing happened. A pile of change had fallen out of someone's pocket and landed on the seat opposite me. We scooped it onto the top of the table and continued reading our books. I was going to put it into the tips jar, but took the books back to their shelves first, and when I returned a fellow from the next table was reaching over, scraping the money into his hand, and then he pocketed it! His friend just watched him. I was stunned speechless. He quickly got up and left the area, and his friend followed a couple of minutes later.
     So I thought of several things: Did he need the money? If so, okay. Why didn't he ask if it was ours? Was he just larcenous, taking whatever he wanted whenever he saw it? I can't imagine reaching over onto someone else's table and taking money from it. Is this a lack of imagination on my part? Is this the new "normal?" And why was I so silent? Why couldn't I think of anything to say? Human beings continue to surprise me, not always in a good way.
     Maybe I have put too much emphasis on this. Maybe it means nothing more than a young fellow putting a dollar's worth of change in his pocket, taking something that seems to be up for grabs.

Graduations

      It's the time of year for graduations, such a hopeful time anticipating the next phase of a student's life, perhaps college or perhaps into the working world. Last weekend I attended my grandson's graduation from the University of Southern Mississippi. We are all so proud of him! He has a job which he'll soon begin, and will be entering graduate school in the fall. The whole family gathered to watch him "walk for his diploma." Then we celebrated with a real down home catfish fry, with hush puppies and homemade potato salad. Yum! Lots of babies there, too, and a few cats and a dog. A four-generation family get-together.
      As in most families, there have been some rough times, but perseverance and hard work pay off. Not giving up is the key. Sometimes we need to pause to get our bearings, but if we don't quit we reach the goal. Ben did just that, kept his eye on the goal and finished with flying colors. Congratulations, Ben, and all the other graduates who have worked hard and achieved the goal.

Road Kill

     Pennsylvania is apparently the road kill capital of the United States. Friday afternoon I was driving to Reading noticing the road kill, as usual.  In a trip of less than twenty miles,  I saw in various stages of decomposition a couple of deer, a possum, a skunk, a couple of cats, and a groundhog. Sometimes I notice how this decomposition process proceeds, as one memorable summer when I was driving to Kutztown for graduate school. A dead cat lay at the side of the road. Each day it got bigger and bigger, swelling as it rotted, looking like a balloon ready to pop. And on Friday I saw a deflated pelt at the side of the road. The pressure had gotten too great, and it exploded.
       Now Friday's trip was memorable for a totally new form of road kill. As I drove, a sudden dark shadow crossed my field of vision from left to right, on a downward slant. As I registered that, the form rose up a few feet in front of the car — a red-tailed hawk. The beauty of the colors as the hawk rose in front of me was breathtaking. And clutched in its claws was a hapless mouse that had been in the tall grass at the side of the road. It was all over in seconds. The flash of color, the beauty and grace of that hawk have stayed with me for days.

Working Hard

       Last month at the Greater Lehigh Valley Writers Group Conference I met with an agent —and she wants to see the first 100 pages of my novel! Sooo exciting! I want it to be in the best possible shape, so am working really hard to do the necessary revisions before I send it. Talk about pressure!

New Every Day

     I have been watching the unfolding of spring here in Lancaster County. There was the downpour last weekend, days of rain, inches of water. Flooding. And now we see the greening of the world, really a yellow-greening. It started with weeping willows, whose supple fronds sway in the wind, reminding me of a young girl running in a meadow with her hair blowing behind her.

     Each day as I drive to Reading the landscape changes, greens a bit more, and now the deep brown of freshly plowed fields touches the pale stubble left from last year's corn, touches the hints of green where winter wheat is coming up. And this does not take into account the daffodils and grape hyacinths, flowering plum and cherry trees, magnolias ready to pop with color. What a feast for the senses! I'm always grateful to live where there are seasons.

Overload

My mind is full of ideas — too full to absorb everything. The two days with James N. Frey (not the million little pieces guy) were full of work about the mythic structure of stories. I learned a great deal, and will gather more as I go over my notes several times to recall the whole experience.

More on this topic later — I need to sleep!

Days out of Time

Today I begin a mini-hiatus from ordinary time. No regular schedule, no class at RACC (Jill is subbing for me), no meals to prepare. I am in a room at the Four Points Sheraton in Allentown at the Greater Lehigh Valley Writers Conference. When I leave my room this morning I will attend the first day of a two-day workshop on How to Write a Damn Good Novel, presented by James L. Frey, who has written two books by that title. He is NOT the Frey of Oprah notoriety!

I love these times out of time. I love learning new things and the opportunity to meet new people and get new ideas. Most important to me today, though, is the notion that I am a real writer, focused on my craft for three full days. Let the magic begin!

New Memoir Class Begins at Tel Hai

       I'm always excited at the beginning of a new class. I find it thrilling to gather ideas, plan what we will do, buy supplies, see what is new in the books I've been reading, and arrive with a cart full of possibilities. Of course, the best part — the surprise and delight of it all — is learning who the students will be and discovering the many gifts they bring to the experience of writing together. Time and again the memoirists have said that they have enjoyed learning about each other and hearing the many interesting stories about their lives. We become connected in a way that is far deeper than the casual contact people have with acquaintances. I feel it is a privilege to facilitate these classes!

       Our memoir class meets from 1 - 3 p.m. at Tel Hai Retirement Community's Garrett Community Center for six Wednesdays, beginning March 10.

Image Generator

As part of the 23 Things course at the library (which got me started on blogging and other new things), I have gone to an image generator site and at the bottom of the blog you will see the result!

One of my two writers groups meets this morning. I have a new chapter of my book to read, plus a 100-word summary of the book in preparation for the Greater Lehigh Valley Writers Group Conference at the end of March. I always get good feedback from these folks.

Creating a Glog

Well, this is really pushing me to new (what, heights or depths??) — anyway, I have created a glog (poster). It has only three pictures and a few objects floating around, but I am sure that if I had the time (like all day) I could get the other photos to load and the rest of the things to look integrated. If you want to see it, go to sophieruminations.glogster.com . . .

I can see how folks get pulled into this and suddenly it's the middle of the night and you haven't eaten anything for twelve hours and your head is pounding and besides you probably forgot to go to work!

Three Friends

The long pause is due to the fact that I was visiting friends in Virginia and attending an Exploritas (new name for Elderhostel) event in Charlottesville. The visits were fun but the really exciting part of the trip was learning about the three presidents: Jefferson, Madison, and Monroe. I have a new appreciation of their efforts on behalf of the new nation. We visited the homes of all three presidents and toured the grounds. We toured the University of Virginia, Jefferson's creation. At Madison's home we visited the Center for the Constitution and participated in an interactive experience with the document. We even received our own copy of the Constitution! My respect for these three founding fathers has increased by leaps and bounds. Our country would not be what it is today without their efforts. Truly they were dedicated men.

Now I am happy to be home, and I'll be glad to sleep in my own bed, but the information I learned will stick with me for a long time. I also have some ideas that I will use with my adult students at RACC. What a valuable experience!

Dixieland Jazz night

Sunday evening I went to a jazz concert with Tom. What a wonderful night! The only thing missing was the sound of the N'awlins stride piano. They did not play "Bye Bye Blackbird," but I had a small daydream remembering an evening at a club with a bunch of friends, and the band playing that song and everyone beating on the tables with spoons and other percussive things, and singing at the top of their lungs. Made me smile. And the evening ended with "When the Saints Go Marchin' In." Lovely dinner and evening. What more could a person wish for?

Valentine's Day at the GoggleWorks

The crowd at GoggleWorks yesterday was surprisingly large, and a number of the visitors who stopped by the studio were first-timers. Everyone seemed to be delighted to be out of the house after the siege of snow we had last week. It was refreshing to see parents and children enjoying the day together. It's interesting to me that so often folks stop by and tell us a snippet of story about themselves. We had several of those. Fascinating.

In addition, a student from my class spent a couple of hours holding a conference with Mickey and me. He is writing a memoir about growing up in Sierra Leone, and it's compelling. He's courageous and talented, and his story is filled with life lessons. He ended his session by giving us a recipe for peanut butter soup!

Hooray for all the signs of the day, especially the red ties, dresses, scarves, jackets, etc., that were visible signs of joy!

Peace like a river

"If grandmothers and children were in charge of the world, there would never be any wars." —Naomi Shihab Nye

Words matter. Ideas matter. Actions matter most of all. I have been thinking about the current political climate of one-upsmanship, of obstructionism, of disrespect. If grandmothers were in charge, everyone would be cared for. Babies would be rocked and fed. The sick would be healed. Our jobless would have gainful employment, honest work that pays a living wage. We would help those in trouble, and celebrate the glorious variety of peoples, cultures, foods, traditions in the world.

Perhaps I am a dreamer. But I believe this is possible.

A new day

The snow shoveling elves have been at work and my driveway and sidewalks are magically cleared now! I don't know what they did with all the white stuff, though. I had a five-foot drift outside the front door, not to mention the driveway drifts. It is absolutely beautiful. I feel fortunate to have underground utilities so the electricity is on and the gas for heating and cooking, and I am snug and warm. I baked bread yesterday. The house smelled wonderful.

No school at RACC today. I'll use the day to get a little caught up on some editing, and maybe get started on my taxes.

Tug of War

Last September Tom and I were walking along the water at Long Beach Island. A gathering of gulls came for feeding in the surf, and this pair started a tug of war over a crab. The battle went on for almost a minute, till the one closer to us won and walked away with the prize. The other gull just turned and began poking around for another. Not a sore loser!

Volunteer Tutors

Today a group of volunteers who are training to become tutors visited my Adult Basic Education class at RACC. Tutors give students an opportunity to get someone's full attention for an hour, targeted to exactly what the student needs. The students appreciate them. This year's class is very bright, hard-working, and ambitious. They are anxious to learn and to overcome the challenges they face. I feel privileged to work with them because they are diligent and because they help each other. It is a real learning community!

Snowed in

I'm not venturing out in the car this morning, even though the driveway and street are fairly clear. Just for another few hours, I am reveling in the in-betweenness of being snowed in. Remembering all the snow days when I was young and school was cancelled, all the teaching days when I received the 6 a.m. call that we were not having school, or there was a two-hour delay. Time shifted gears, slowed down, and I seemed to slow down with it. I could read a book, uninterrupted. Paint, sew, write. Create. And if I had to shovel, well, so be it. A good excuse for hot chocolate!

Vacation Fun

I saw the Terracotta Warriors on Thursday. Qin, the first emperor of China, took office at age thirteen, and did amazing things. Henry Ford did not invent the assembly line; Qin had 87 teams of workers making these pottery soldiers (perhaps 7,000 of them) to accompany him in the afterlife. He also standardized the length of axles, diameter of arrow shafts and the diameter of lance shafts. Interchangeable parts! He was a brilliant tactician and organizer. He died young — age 49 — probably of mercury poisoning.

We had great lunches and snacks in DC; enjoyed the sunny day; loved walking through the neighborhoods; and enjoyed the ride on the Metro.

Friday morning I left town two hours ahead of the snow.

New day, new adventure

Good morning! This is the first post on my new blog, started with the library's group learning 23 things. I expect to be enlightened and entertained by this class. Probably will spend even more time online!

I am leaving today for a trip to my cousin's house in Maryland. We're going to see the Terracotta Warriors at the National Geographic Society in Washington, DC. I'm looking forward to it.