Tonight the Lehrer News Hour had a segment on Twitter and Tweets, and the questionable value of twittering (What can one say in 140 characters?) and the general proliferation of social networking online. I don't "tweet," and I don't have Facebook, but i thought I would use some short blog entries (not probably under the 140 character limit) to "blast off" on some recent topics of concern. I am, simultaneously, watching/listening to the President's "news conference." I will use this as the subject of my first "blog-tweet."
On Presidential Press Conferences: In the good old days, the news reporters stood and yelled to be recognized. That was a "real" press conference, where the White House didn't know ahead of time approximately what would be asked. This is a "fake" press conference, where the White House establishes the list of reporters who will be called on, and, you'd better believe, they have also ascertained what questions will be asked. (Ha! Someone just subverted the system and asked a question out of turn!!) Yay, you go, press people.
On the Sonia Sotomayor confirmation: Senator John Kyl of Arizona stated today that he is concerned that Judge Sotomayor may not be able to leave her personal biases behind (i.e. her background as a Latina woman) and therefore he will vote against her confirmation. Did he ever wonder if the white male candidates whom he voted to confirm were able to leave their personal biases behind (i.e. their privileges as a white, upper middle class man) when they reached the bench? I doubt it.
On the arrest of Henry Louis Gates in his home in Cambridge, MA: Unbelievable.
On the Senate voting against the F-22 fighter jet amendment: Amazing! Finally a vote against something which even the Pentagon didn't want. Even Senator Gregg voted against this plane which apparently is obsolete and has experienced huge cost overruns. Definitely a victory for the voices of reason in an irrational world. (see above entry).
On the anti-abortion groups who are lobbying to make sure there is a provision in the health care legislation which will specifically state that any government-sponsored health care insurance will not pay for abortions: Who should decide which healthcare procedures should be paid for? Should birth control be covered? Viagra? Should my mother have blood drawn every two weeks? How anemic should she have to be before government-sponsored Medicare should pay for her to have a Procrit shot? Possibly the doctors are the people to make these decisions, not the government, and not the anti-anybodies.
On the weather: If I had wanted to live in a gray, drizzly climate, I would have moved to Seattle or Chautauqua. The rain forest is wearing a little thin.
On blog-tweets: It's clear why I don't "tweet" for real. I could never keep it to 140 characters or less.........
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Monday, July 13, 2009
There are students and then . . . there are students
If you read an earlier post, you will discover that I have had to call the police to quell the drinking parties next door. Eventually, after calling a few times, I discovered that the guys next door are former students of mine. I don't know who is more distressed by that fact, them or me. A week ago tonight i called the police for the 5th time since June 6th, and there were 4 squad cars idling in the street from midnight to 1:30 a.m. as they rounded up kids, towed cars and arrested at least one of the boys living next door.
On Wednesday, a deputation of three of the young men arrived at my back door. I invited them in, and we sat in the living room discussing the situation. They apologized for having disturbed me so much this summer, and then they proceeded to suggest that 1) if I would stop calling the police, people wouldn't be running through my back yard (leaving flip flops in the mud and half empty cans of beer in the raised beds . . . ) and 2) If I would call them and not the police, they would "get everyone to "dial it down."
I suggested that their logic was a bit faulty. That if I were in their shoes, and being arrested because I was hosting all of Oyster River at underage drinking parties, I would change my behavior and stop the parties. They assured me they were "getting it under control," and that on Monday when I called the police, they had only invited 15 people to come over (plus the 4 of them) and REALLY, they had no idea i could hear them. Huh!
I pointed out that no one else in the neighborhood was up until 2 in the morning partying, and that since they had moved into the neighborhood, they were obliged to conform to the social, cultural and legal requirements of the neighborhood. Their eyes glazed over. They repeated their request that i call them instead of the police. They wrote their 3 cell phone numbers on a card and gave it to me. I said I'd try it once, and then I would call the police. So far, (knock wood) we have had a week of blessedly quiet nights. Even when I have seen 7 cars on the street. I am crossing my fingers.
Later that same Wednesday, I attended a reading and book signing at River Run Bookstore in Portsmouth. The reader: former Advanced Writing student Meg Frazer, out promoting her new novel. I had a great chat with her, and felt proud when she acknowledged me during her thank yous to various people who had helped her writing along the way. A friend of hers and another former student, Larissa Crockett was there with her 11 and 9 year old kids, and we had a great chat as well. She has just successfully run for the board of Selectpersons in her town and thinks she may want to be Governor of Maine one day. She told me of how she has had to defend her use of the word "selectperson" to older men who keep reminding her that she has run for the Board of Selectmen. We had a brief discussion about the importance of language in the area of women's rights.
While I was standing and eating bonbons after the reading, a young man came rushing in and greeted me warmly - you guessed it, another former student who saw me as he was walking by the store. We had a talk about what he has done since his graduation two years ago.
This morning I met with another student who has recently sent me her short stories to read. She has always been a great critic/reader of my work, and she's slogging her way through my novel as we speak. Another student who spent this past semester in New Zealand just emailed me and is returning to Durham and wants to get together.
So . . . thankfully, it's good students 5 to questionable students 3. I hold out hope for good students 8, questionable students 0.
On Wednesday, a deputation of three of the young men arrived at my back door. I invited them in, and we sat in the living room discussing the situation. They apologized for having disturbed me so much this summer, and then they proceeded to suggest that 1) if I would stop calling the police, people wouldn't be running through my back yard (leaving flip flops in the mud and half empty cans of beer in the raised beds . . . ) and 2) If I would call them and not the police, they would "get everyone to "dial it down."
I suggested that their logic was a bit faulty. That if I were in their shoes, and being arrested because I was hosting all of Oyster River at underage drinking parties, I would change my behavior and stop the parties. They assured me they were "getting it under control," and that on Monday when I called the police, they had only invited 15 people to come over (plus the 4 of them) and REALLY, they had no idea i could hear them. Huh!
I pointed out that no one else in the neighborhood was up until 2 in the morning partying, and that since they had moved into the neighborhood, they were obliged to conform to the social, cultural and legal requirements of the neighborhood. Their eyes glazed over. They repeated their request that i call them instead of the police. They wrote their 3 cell phone numbers on a card and gave it to me. I said I'd try it once, and then I would call the police. So far, (knock wood) we have had a week of blessedly quiet nights. Even when I have seen 7 cars on the street. I am crossing my fingers.
Later that same Wednesday, I attended a reading and book signing at River Run Bookstore in Portsmouth. The reader: former Advanced Writing student Meg Frazer, out promoting her new novel. I had a great chat with her, and felt proud when she acknowledged me during her thank yous to various people who had helped her writing along the way. A friend of hers and another former student, Larissa Crockett was there with her 11 and 9 year old kids, and we had a great chat as well. She has just successfully run for the board of Selectpersons in her town and thinks she may want to be Governor of Maine one day. She told me of how she has had to defend her use of the word "selectperson" to older men who keep reminding her that she has run for the Board of Selectmen. We had a brief discussion about the importance of language in the area of women's rights.
While I was standing and eating bonbons after the reading, a young man came rushing in and greeted me warmly - you guessed it, another former student who saw me as he was walking by the store. We had a talk about what he has done since his graduation two years ago.
This morning I met with another student who has recently sent me her short stories to read. She has always been a great critic/reader of my work, and she's slogging her way through my novel as we speak. Another student who spent this past semester in New Zealand just emailed me and is returning to Durham and wants to get together.
So . . . thankfully, it's good students 5 to questionable students 3. I hold out hope for good students 8, questionable students 0.
Monday, June 22, 2009
Wedding highlights
Let me just say that the whole weekend was great from start to finish. There were no bad moments, at least that I could see! So, instead of trying to even summarize everything, I thought I'd write down some of my favorite moments. Not surprisingly,
many of those moments had to do with Emily and Nate.
At the rehearsal, my favorite moment(s) were when the minister asked Nate how he felt about managing the job of ringbearer, and he immediately said "I've done it before" in a very confident voice. Immediately Emily's hand shot up and she said "I've been a flower girl before too, so I know what to do. I'll help Ariana."
Another moment was when Nate saw the raspberry pink pillow and made a face that clearly communicated that NO WAY did he want to carry a pink pillow down the aisle. Kat immediately said "I don't want to see that face again! This is the pillow, and you're carrying it!" (or words to that effect)
At the rehearsal dinner, when the toasts began, we were all surprised when from over at the piano, Nate, with impeccable timing, ran his fingers down the keyboard from high to low notes, just as the person ended the toast offering his own personal punctuation mark to all the wonderful words that were being said.
I was proud of both kids as they met lots of new people over the weekend, and when introduced, shook hands and said "It's nice to meet you." They've had some good parenting!
Wedding morning dawned nice and sunny, contrary to all forecasts. That set the tone for the whole day of bright, sunny happiness, even when the clouds inevitably rolled in mid-day. It just didn't matter - it was warm and it didn't rain!
A highlight of the morning was a great boat ride down the length of Kezar Lake, with plenty of time for Em and Nate to steer the boat while sitting in Uncle Ben's lap. He taught them how to go in a tight circle and ride up and over the boat's wake, which utterly delighted them.
One at a time, every vendor showed up right when they were supposed to on Sat. (The tent and tables arrived Friday) A group effort led to the placement of linens, silverware and glasses. Emily, Nate and Ariana each helped under the supervision of Sarah, Kat, and me. The caterer arrived and we conferred; photos went off as scheduled; the florist delivered the gorgeous wedding flowers and rejuvenated Todd's bouteniere when the stem bent and broke. Pierce, the last minute guest of Ben's sister drove to North Conway to get the cake and delivered it with nary a mishap. He also filled all the coolers with ice and beer and other beverages. The D.J. arrived on schedule. Sarah had planned everything to the minute, it seemed.
Suddenly, it was time to head to the church. Highlights for me of the ceremony were almost so many I can't even list them all. But certainly walking down the aisle with Todd was a big highlight for me; seeing Sarah walk down the aisle on her godfather's arm and the look of great joy on both of their faces was a sight to behold. Kat was absolutely beautiful in her deep blue dress and carrying a phenomenal bouquet of deep pink and red roses and calla lillies.
I loved singing "Joyful, Joyful We Adore Thee" with Emily sharing my hymnal and singing her heart out. At the same time I could hear Sarah's beautiful voice leading all of us. The ceremony was one of the most beautiful I've ever attended. Sarah and Ben had adhered to a traditional format, but with a minister who knew both of them well, there was a high personal element in each segment of it. Most moving was what they called the Family Liturgy, where they stepped forward and faced all of us, sharing their feelings about our importance to them as they begin this new journey. Each of them teared up a bit, particularly when Ben read a paragraph remembering family members who were unable to be there, including each of their fathers and their remaining livintg grandmothers.
These weeks of planning were worth everything to see their faces when they were pronounced husband and wife! The final great moment was when Sarah and Ben joined hands to music of the recessional and as Sarah's took her first step down the steps, we realized that she had kicked off her shoes sometime early in the ceremony and was barefoot! The train of her dress swept over her shoes, revealing them up in front of the altar, and Kat calmly leaned over and picked them up and followed them down the steps, arm and arm with the best man.
At the reception, one of the highlights was dancing with Emily, who kept coming and asking me to dance. She is just such a sweetheart. She and Nate just danced and danced. True grandchildren of mine!
Throughout the weekend our two families kind of melted together in good food, good drink, good conversation and beautiful surroundings. It was great in every way. One of my final favorite moments of the evening was having Sarah say that the whole wedding had been everything she had wanted it to be. I say Amen to that!!
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Notes from the Natural and Unnatural World
I know the nature lovers out there are dying to read about the bird population at my house. All year, the birds offer endless entertainment, and provide excellent opportunities to procrastinate. One of my most favorite activities in retirement is being able to stand with binoculars glued to my face looking at the birds out my kitchen window. And believe me, I can do that for HOURS!!
So - recent developments include a family of baby birds in the wren house and a family of chickadees in a birdhouse out back, complete with cheeping and parent birds flying in and out. Yesterday I saw a family of house sparrows, with the fledglings sitting in the forsythia, while the parents brought birdseed from the feeder to them.
Today featured a wren (I think it was) flying right at a squirrel and attacking it. You go girl, I cheered from the kitchen. Two birds came in view that were so fleeting that I couldn't be sure, but I thought they were yellow bellied sapsuckers.
And speaking of saps, I have been awakened by raucous conversations, campfires and last night the regular "thwack, thwack" of throwing a baseball against the back of the house and loud conversation by the new crop of renting students next door. On night one, I let it go; on night two, I called the police (1:30 a.m.) and last night, I hollered out the window "Will you guys shut up?" (at 11:50). Both the police and my shout were enough to put a stop to it. Those who remember my interaction with the guinea hens that used to waken us at 4:00 a.m. up in Bethlehem, will be able to picture me. The next step is to lob projectiles from my window . . . grenades anyone?
I've called the "Code Officer" who may or may not return my call. As I become increasingly sleep deprived, I become increasingly irrational. It's enough to make a person wish for heavy rain every night from 6 p.m. to 6 a.m.....that would keep the saps and the suckers inside at least.
So - recent developments include a family of baby birds in the wren house and a family of chickadees in a birdhouse out back, complete with cheeping and parent birds flying in and out. Yesterday I saw a family of house sparrows, with the fledglings sitting in the forsythia, while the parents brought birdseed from the feeder to them.
Today featured a wren (I think it was) flying right at a squirrel and attacking it. You go girl, I cheered from the kitchen. Two birds came in view that were so fleeting that I couldn't be sure, but I thought they were yellow bellied sapsuckers.
And speaking of saps, I have been awakened by raucous conversations, campfires and last night the regular "thwack, thwack" of throwing a baseball against the back of the house and loud conversation by the new crop of renting students next door. On night one, I let it go; on night two, I called the police (1:30 a.m.) and last night, I hollered out the window "Will you guys shut up?" (at 11:50). Both the police and my shout were enough to put a stop to it. Those who remember my interaction with the guinea hens that used to waken us at 4:00 a.m. up in Bethlehem, will be able to picture me. The next step is to lob projectiles from my window . . . grenades anyone?
I've called the "Code Officer" who may or may not return my call. As I become increasingly sleep deprived, I become increasingly irrational. It's enough to make a person wish for heavy rain every night from 6 p.m. to 6 a.m.....that would keep the saps and the suckers inside at least.
Sunday, June 7, 2009
My Ever Dear Daughter
Two weeks from today, Sarah will be married. Yesterday I went to a brunch to celebrate Sarah and the joy she is experiencing and sharing with all of us. For the second time, in the last few months, I was asked to “share Sarah stories.” I end up telling the stories of how challenging she was to me as a baby/toddler, and some of her exploits. Those were all true stories, but reveal as much about me and my uncertainty as a parent as they reveal about her. Sarah’s always been a risk-taker, and as such, provoked a lot of anxiety in me, since I am more of a middle-of-the-roader.
Be all that as it may, I think that Sarah and I have had a close relationship over the years, and there are so many stories that I want to tell about Sarah but can’t, because I know I’ll just get choked up.
There are the stories of Sarah the giver. She has made her exquisite quilts for her friends’ babies and quilts for her friends as wedding presents. She has made quilts for me, and Todd and Kat, and Todd. She made a quilted wall-hanging for me for my 60th birthday which touched me so much, because she captured a place (Eckels cottage at Lake Winnisquam) which has had lots of great memories for me and embroidered on it a part of a poem, “The Peace of Wild Things,” by Wendell Berry, which revealed her deep knowledge of who I am.
She has knitted sweaters for all of her friends’ babies and for her beloved niece and nephew. She has knitted (and sometimes re-knitted) sweaters for me. She has made countless pumpkin and fruit hats for her friends’ babies. She has knitted sweaters for herself and her grandmother.
Sarah has been the friend everyone could call on to help move, to help pack up, to drive to a colonoscopy and stand by while brain surgery was being performed. She was the person to drive me to my skin cancer surgery, neither of us having any idea that at the end of the day, I would walk out of the hospital looking like Frankenstein. She stayed for several days, changing a bandage I couldn’t bear to touch. More than once she has been Sarah the caregiver. Most recently, coming immediately when my dad was dying, giving up a conference to be with me and help me get moved out of my classroom as I started retirement and dealt with dad’s death and supported my mom.
There’s Sarah the helper – the one who has shown up and mowed the lawn, planted flowers, made dinner, cleaned closets and encouraged me to get rid of the junk of my life which has a tendency to overwhelm me. She’s the one who has painted bedrooms and bathrooms and hallways with me. She’s the one who’s come to visit grammie and take her for a ride when I’m gone.
There’s Sarah the social activist who worries that what she’s done with her life hasn’t done enough to solve the world’s ills, though she has participated in benefit concerts and in her own recitals has raised money for battered women and for Greg Mortenson’s schools for girls. Through her own work ethic and patient teaching of voice lessons to students of all abilities and backgrounds, she has given the gifts of self confidence to those who might never have performed before. She has, herself, “made a joyful noise” and helped others to do the same, bringing beauty and harmony into a broken world.
There’s Sarah the writer, who has several novels in the drawer, and has been an excellent reader for me, and in one case a collaborator with me on an as yet unpublished gem!! Perhaps now that her life has taken a turn for the happier, she will be able to finish some of those “Chick Lit” stories which have featured young women seeking a good relationship!
There’s Sarah the reader. We’ve long traded books and recommendations for books, and have roughly the same taste in books. Sarah has kept a reading journal for years, something I have only done sporadically. Now she has vowed to get books from the library instead of buying them, we don’t trade books as much, but the recommendations just keep coming!!
This, though a long blog entry, just scratches of the surface of all the things I love about Sarah. These are the things I wish I could say when suddenly on the spot for “stories” about Sarah. No one will be happier than I on June 20th, when Sarah marries Ben. It’s her time to shine, and to share her gifts and talents, her loyalty and her love with someone who will love and cherish her.
Be all that as it may, I think that Sarah and I have had a close relationship over the years, and there are so many stories that I want to tell about Sarah but can’t, because I know I’ll just get choked up.
There are the stories of Sarah the giver. She has made her exquisite quilts for her friends’ babies and quilts for her friends as wedding presents. She has made quilts for me, and Todd and Kat, and Todd. She made a quilted wall-hanging for me for my 60th birthday which touched me so much, because she captured a place (Eckels cottage at Lake Winnisquam) which has had lots of great memories for me and embroidered on it a part of a poem, “The Peace of Wild Things,” by Wendell Berry, which revealed her deep knowledge of who I am.
She has knitted sweaters for all of her friends’ babies and for her beloved niece and nephew. She has knitted (and sometimes re-knitted) sweaters for me. She has made countless pumpkin and fruit hats for her friends’ babies. She has knitted sweaters for herself and her grandmother.
Sarah has been the friend everyone could call on to help move, to help pack up, to drive to a colonoscopy and stand by while brain surgery was being performed. She was the person to drive me to my skin cancer surgery, neither of us having any idea that at the end of the day, I would walk out of the hospital looking like Frankenstein. She stayed for several days, changing a bandage I couldn’t bear to touch. More than once she has been Sarah the caregiver. Most recently, coming immediately when my dad was dying, giving up a conference to be with me and help me get moved out of my classroom as I started retirement and dealt with dad’s death and supported my mom.
There’s Sarah the helper – the one who has shown up and mowed the lawn, planted flowers, made dinner, cleaned closets and encouraged me to get rid of the junk of my life which has a tendency to overwhelm me. She’s the one who has painted bedrooms and bathrooms and hallways with me. She’s the one who’s come to visit grammie and take her for a ride when I’m gone.
There’s Sarah the social activist who worries that what she’s done with her life hasn’t done enough to solve the world’s ills, though she has participated in benefit concerts and in her own recitals has raised money for battered women and for Greg Mortenson’s schools for girls. Through her own work ethic and patient teaching of voice lessons to students of all abilities and backgrounds, she has given the gifts of self confidence to those who might never have performed before. She has, herself, “made a joyful noise” and helped others to do the same, bringing beauty and harmony into a broken world.
There’s Sarah the writer, who has several novels in the drawer, and has been an excellent reader for me, and in one case a collaborator with me on an as yet unpublished gem!! Perhaps now that her life has taken a turn for the happier, she will be able to finish some of those “Chick Lit” stories which have featured young women seeking a good relationship!
There’s Sarah the reader. We’ve long traded books and recommendations for books, and have roughly the same taste in books. Sarah has kept a reading journal for years, something I have only done sporadically. Now she has vowed to get books from the library instead of buying them, we don’t trade books as much, but the recommendations just keep coming!!
This, though a long blog entry, just scratches of the surface of all the things I love about Sarah. These are the things I wish I could say when suddenly on the spot for “stories” about Sarah. No one will be happier than I on June 20th, when Sarah marries Ben. It’s her time to shine, and to share her gifts and talents, her loyalty and her love with someone who will love and cherish her.
Monday, May 18, 2009
Blog entries I might have written
If I had had the time, there are several entries I would have written in the past weeks. It always seems that when I finally do write, I write two long entries, so this time I'm just going to give the titles and a short synopsis. Maybe these would be known as "blogettes."
First: "The Light at the End of This Particular Tunnel"
This blog would have been about discovering that my mom's episodes of seeing double were attributable to a phenomenon known as "ophthalmic migraines" brought on by stress which causes high blood pressure which causes kaleidoscopic vision. it took an ER visit and $15,000 worth of tests to give us no answers. It took a visit to the ophthamologist where the nurse also works at Langdon Place to get the diagnosis. It's a much longer story. Trust me.
Second: "Mother of the Bride Dress Dilemma" This blog would have featured photos of all 5 dresses that have been hanging in my upstairs. Comments about these dresses have ranged from "That's a depressing color," to "That looks like you're channeling your inner surfergirl from the 70s," to "Hmmm, I feel like I need 3 inch stiletto heels and a bar to go to." I'm only in the hole about $150.00 on the dresses that I'll be keeping, plus I now own a pair of silver sandals to wear when I'm remembering my California days . . . . .
Third: "One Woman Show."
This would be one of my whiny blogs, complaining about how tired I am of having to do everything, all the time, inside and outside the house, on my grant-funded project and in the care of my mother. Probably didn't need to write that one.
Fourth: "The Critter in the Basement, or is it my Imagination run amok"
Twice this winter I have noticed that something has chewed through the bag of thistle seed. The first time I pretended that probably the bag had a slit in it when i bought it. The second time (last week) I know that the bag didn't have a slit in it. Yesterday I noticed that a roll of paper towels by the washing machine has been chewed. I now have a mouse trap and a Have-a-heart trap baited in the basement. It's been there for 24 hours and so far no critter to be seen. What will I do if i catch something? Is it possible that it has squeezed under the basement door and into the house? This totally freaks me out!
Fifth: "Do I look Like I Need More Stuff?
Friends who are moving away are offering me stuff - from birdfeeders to clothes, to a chest freezer. Please re-read earlier blogs about the junque I already possess and am desperately trying to weed out.
Sixth: "Stuff I have Gotten Rid Of or, The Joys of Bulky Waste Week"
The picnic table and benches; the two t.v. stands; mom's and dad's t.v.; Rob's humongous homemade speakers; my old VCR; old screens; plastic windows made by my dad; two plastic outdoor side tables. How I paid $10.00 for a bulky waste sticker to go on the old t.v. only to have some scavenger take the t.v. Grrrrr. Someone actually took the old dehumidifier. You gotta love bulky waste pick-up week.
O.K. there's another one about the pink markers tied on the bushes out back, designating the offical "wetland" area of my back yard. Yeah, right. I KNOW it's wet, but was it always wet? Who gets to decide and designate "wetlands?" If all my neighbors stopped pumping their sump pumps out onto my property, would it still be a "wetland?"
First: "The Light at the End of This Particular Tunnel"
This blog would have been about discovering that my mom's episodes of seeing double were attributable to a phenomenon known as "ophthalmic migraines" brought on by stress which causes high blood pressure which causes kaleidoscopic vision. it took an ER visit and $15,000 worth of tests to give us no answers. It took a visit to the ophthamologist where the nurse also works at Langdon Place to get the diagnosis. It's a much longer story. Trust me.
Second: "Mother of the Bride Dress Dilemma" This blog would have featured photos of all 5 dresses that have been hanging in my upstairs. Comments about these dresses have ranged from "That's a depressing color," to "That looks like you're channeling your inner surfergirl from the 70s," to "Hmmm, I feel like I need 3 inch stiletto heels and a bar to go to." I'm only in the hole about $150.00 on the dresses that I'll be keeping, plus I now own a pair of silver sandals to wear when I'm remembering my California days . . . . .
Third: "One Woman Show."
This would be one of my whiny blogs, complaining about how tired I am of having to do everything, all the time, inside and outside the house, on my grant-funded project and in the care of my mother. Probably didn't need to write that one.
Fourth: "The Critter in the Basement, or is it my Imagination run amok"
Twice this winter I have noticed that something has chewed through the bag of thistle seed. The first time I pretended that probably the bag had a slit in it when i bought it. The second time (last week) I know that the bag didn't have a slit in it. Yesterday I noticed that a roll of paper towels by the washing machine has been chewed. I now have a mouse trap and a Have-a-heart trap baited in the basement. It's been there for 24 hours and so far no critter to be seen. What will I do if i catch something? Is it possible that it has squeezed under the basement door and into the house? This totally freaks me out!
Fifth: "Do I look Like I Need More Stuff?
Friends who are moving away are offering me stuff - from birdfeeders to clothes, to a chest freezer. Please re-read earlier blogs about the junque I already possess and am desperately trying to weed out.
Sixth: "Stuff I have Gotten Rid Of or, The Joys of Bulky Waste Week"
The picnic table and benches; the two t.v. stands; mom's and dad's t.v.; Rob's humongous homemade speakers; my old VCR; old screens; plastic windows made by my dad; two plastic outdoor side tables. How I paid $10.00 for a bulky waste sticker to go on the old t.v. only to have some scavenger take the t.v. Grrrrr. Someone actually took the old dehumidifier. You gotta love bulky waste pick-up week.
O.K. there's another one about the pink markers tied on the bushes out back, designating the offical "wetland" area of my back yard. Yeah, right. I KNOW it's wet, but was it always wet? Who gets to decide and designate "wetlands?" If all my neighbors stopped pumping their sump pumps out onto my property, would it still be a "wetland?"
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Epiphanies
I thought it was ironic that on the day the news of Swine Flu ramped up, I was sitting in the local Emergency Room with my mother. The waiting room was packed. I wondered how many people were there with symptoms of swine flu.
************
After our second visit in one month of a minimum of 3 hrs. in the ER, I went to a much-needed yoga class. I'll admit, I was feeling completely burned out on mother-care. Since March 27th, when i got a call from Langdon at the Fort Myers airport, it has been non-stop in doctor's offices and the E.R. Why me? I asked myself. How am I supposed to get anything done while spending so much time transporting and treating bronchitis, blurred vision, anemia, water on the knee? My yoga teacher read something at the end of class that made me change my point of view. It was something to the effect that "When things weigh you down, don't ask why me? Ask what you can learn about yourself during this challenge." I felt that for sure she was talking directly to me. I spent the rest of the week contemplating what I have learned about myself throughout the challenge of caring for my parents' needs over the past 5 years. I can't say that I'm thrilled with myself as i contemplate that. I've learned that I can be impatient and self-focused. I've learned that I don't suffer fools gladly. I've learned how easy it is to be resentful. I've learned that it is very hard to be the "go to" person all the time. I've learned that I fear the future for myself, as I inevitably age.
I've also learned what an amazing person my mother is. She remains cheerful and optimistic, no matter what. She doesn't remember much, but she remains engaged in life and loves to be outside to see the birds and flowers and enjoy the sun on her face. She is unfailingly grateful to me - to the point where it drives me crazy. She loves a simple outing, but she remains quietly accepting of her life at Langdon Place. She still wants to do things like read, help put on a family dinner, hem a dress, even though she can't. I hope that maybe I have a few of her genes in me so that I may grow old and be as brave as she is.
*************
I've been thinking a lot about a major core value that I hold, having been invited to write a "This I Believe" essay for an Oyster River High School project. I probably won't get to write the essay, but I have been thinking that I think empathy is probably the key value I have most based my life on. It helps that I am a Libra, and usually see both sides or many sides of a situation. One of my major heroes is Atticus in To Kill a Mockingbird, precisely because he tries to teach Scout and Jem the importance of seeing things from the other person's point of view. I've gone a long way in my head in thinking about this value and how it has shaped my teaching and my life. So . . . the other night when I opened a new volume of poetry by Mary Oliver and read this quotaton from Kierkegaard as the epigraph, I found myself completely revising what I thought was my core value. He wrote: "We create ourselves by our choices." That struck such a chord with me, and maybe it was because it was the same day I had been thinking about what I had learned about myself (see above), but I realized that when you get right down to it, I believe that we were given free will, and nothing is more important than the ability to make choices. In every situation we are presented with choices. This in itself isn't all that remarkable, but it served as a good reminder that I have the power to choose how I react to every single situation that presents itself to me, and that as i make those choices, I create myself.
I've never liked the saying "What doesn't kill you, makes you stronger," because I don't think that is necessarily true, unless you reflect on what you have learned about the choices you made in the situation you were in. It really goes back to Socrates, who is another one of my heroes, who said, "The unexamined life is not worth living."
************
After our second visit in one month of a minimum of 3 hrs. in the ER, I went to a much-needed yoga class. I'll admit, I was feeling completely burned out on mother-care. Since March 27th, when i got a call from Langdon at the Fort Myers airport, it has been non-stop in doctor's offices and the E.R. Why me? I asked myself. How am I supposed to get anything done while spending so much time transporting and treating bronchitis, blurred vision, anemia, water on the knee? My yoga teacher read something at the end of class that made me change my point of view. It was something to the effect that "When things weigh you down, don't ask why me? Ask what you can learn about yourself during this challenge." I felt that for sure she was talking directly to me. I spent the rest of the week contemplating what I have learned about myself throughout the challenge of caring for my parents' needs over the past 5 years. I can't say that I'm thrilled with myself as i contemplate that. I've learned that I can be impatient and self-focused. I've learned that I don't suffer fools gladly. I've learned how easy it is to be resentful. I've learned that it is very hard to be the "go to" person all the time. I've learned that I fear the future for myself, as I inevitably age.
I've also learned what an amazing person my mother is. She remains cheerful and optimistic, no matter what. She doesn't remember much, but she remains engaged in life and loves to be outside to see the birds and flowers and enjoy the sun on her face. She is unfailingly grateful to me - to the point where it drives me crazy. She loves a simple outing, but she remains quietly accepting of her life at Langdon Place. She still wants to do things like read, help put on a family dinner, hem a dress, even though she can't. I hope that maybe I have a few of her genes in me so that I may grow old and be as brave as she is.
*************
I've been thinking a lot about a major core value that I hold, having been invited to write a "This I Believe" essay for an Oyster River High School project. I probably won't get to write the essay, but I have been thinking that I think empathy is probably the key value I have most based my life on. It helps that I am a Libra, and usually see both sides or many sides of a situation. One of my major heroes is Atticus in To Kill a Mockingbird, precisely because he tries to teach Scout and Jem the importance of seeing things from the other person's point of view. I've gone a long way in my head in thinking about this value and how it has shaped my teaching and my life. So . . . the other night when I opened a new volume of poetry by Mary Oliver and read this quotaton from Kierkegaard as the epigraph, I found myself completely revising what I thought was my core value. He wrote: "We create ourselves by our choices." That struck such a chord with me, and maybe it was because it was the same day I had been thinking about what I had learned about myself (see above), but I realized that when you get right down to it, I believe that we were given free will, and nothing is more important than the ability to make choices. In every situation we are presented with choices. This in itself isn't all that remarkable, but it served as a good reminder that I have the power to choose how I react to every single situation that presents itself to me, and that as i make those choices, I create myself.
I've never liked the saying "What doesn't kill you, makes you stronger," because I don't think that is necessarily true, unless you reflect on what you have learned about the choices you made in the situation you were in. It really goes back to Socrates, who is another one of my heroes, who said, "The unexamined life is not worth living."
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