Seasons

Life has its seasons. One day you're in school having a hard time imagining a day when you and your friends won't be together. The next, you're in college and finding new friends. Slowly, your old friends slip away. Class reunions are not what they're cracked up to be. The friends you wish to see again, don't come. The drinkers still drink. The smokers still smoke. At my 20th class reunion, I decided it wasn't worth it because I was so disappointed that so few of my true friends were in attendance.

Then, out of the blue, a friend...an "old" friend sees you at the doctor's office or finds you online. What a kick! Suddenly, you're in a happy game of catch-up. You size each other up in your new grown-up forms. Sometimes, the meeting is fleeting. (Hey, that rhymed!) But other times, the neatest thing happens...you reconnect. Hi Suz! Hi Steve!

Social Logic

During this political season let's be reminded of these wise words:


"You cannot help the poor by destroying the rich.


You cannot strengthen the weak by weakening the strong.


You cannot bring about prosperity by discouraging thrift.


You cannot lift the wage earner up by pulling the wage payer down.


You cannot further the brotherhood of man by inciting class hatred.


You cannot build character and courage by taking away people's initiative and independence.


You cannot help people permanently by doing for them, what they could and should do for themselves."


(Often attributed to Abraham Lincoln, but written by William J. H. Boetcker)

"Coming out..."

I am a public school educator, (a group that is typically quite liberal.) With the impending elections, there is a lot of talk in the teachers' lounge. It makes me so uncomfortable, that I no longer eat lunch there. Instead, a small group of us has been eating in a classroom. We talk. We laugh. We do NOT talk about politics...that is, until Friday. I did it. I outed myself as a conservative. I had suspicions about one of our "lunch bunch," so I said things in a way that would let her know. While our hostess was washing her hands with our backs to us, I casually mentioned that I'm probably the only right-leaning educator in the building. (Leaning??? I'm practically falling on the floor, I'm so right-leaning!) My friend quietly raised her hand! Woo HOOOO! I'm not alone! I knew I liked her! As we left to start our afternoon, my secretly conservative friend told me she got a McCain/Palin lawn sign from someone else that works in our building! The day just kept getting better and better!

At the end of the day, a bunch of us had decided to grab a glass of wine together at a local restaurant/bar when the bell rang. I saw my sign-giving colleague in the hall and outed myself to him, too. "So, Joe, (name changed to protect the innocent,) I hear you have some signs in your car that I might be interested in putting in my yard." He told me he ran out, but would stop by the Republican Party Headquarters soon and would bring me a sign on Monday.

It took him a while to arrive at the restaurant after school. When he sat down, Joe looked at me and said, "I have something in my car for you." Hurray! He had stopped at the Headquarters before coming. After a quick white wine spritzer, I had to leave for a piano lesson and got up to leave. Joe said he'd walk me out. He commented about what the others might be thinking as we walked toward the parking lot. We laughed so much as he walked between the rows of cars to block the sign from view of the other teachers. This election season will be a lot more fun now that I have a secret support group at school.

After I posted about winning the war in Iraq, I got a phone call from the friend I've known the longest. Sue said she'd read my post and told me she's a conservative, too! We've known each other since fourth grade. There's nothing better in the world than finding another connection to a long-time friend. (Hey, Sue, notice I didn't call you an "old" friend. I know I'm older than you.)Let the political emails fly!

Chipmunks

Chipmunks. The word makes people smile. It makes them think of cute, puffy cheeks and adorable little squeaks. Yeah. Those people have never had a family of them living under their house.

Shortly after I put up a bird feeder this summer, I woke to a noise I couldn't identify. A bird? (Pretty LOUD bird!) I dragged myself to the kitchen window to look. No bird. But that repetitive, loud squeak continued. I looked down and saw a chipmunk. How cute! He was right on our front porch. I called the kids over. "Look, kids! A chipmunk...right on our porch! Isn't he cute?" Everyone loved him. He was eating the fallen seed from the feeder. Now, we could watch birds in the mornings, then when they all left, we could watch our furry friend.

Shortly thereafter, we had some landscaping done. Our trees were trimmed. Our front bushes were all replaced. Our chipping sidewalks were replaced. Our grass was reseeded. Our plant beds were reshaped and heavily mulched. It was beautiful! A few days later, I saw a very clear hole in the mulch near our front porch. It was the size of a golf ball. Then I noticed more in and around the new bushes. Covering them didn't work. More holes popped up. I figured it was the chipmunk, but did he really need eleventeen exits to his bachelor pad? Mmmm...now I'm thinking this chipmunk has invited his buddies to move in. Well, do I remove the bird feeder (and the chipmunk's source of food?) My eyes are getting older. If I want to see the birds with any amount of clarity, I need it pretty close to the house. Do I change the feed? (What DO chipmunks eat, anyway?) Maybe if I change the content of the feed, the furbeasts, I mean chipmunks won't like it and go away. None of it matters much because...

A chipmunk has died under our house. How do I know this? There is an aroma. We can't pinpoint it, but it is not at the entrance to the house. It is halfway through the house near the door to the basement. I certainly am not breaking through drywall if I'm not sure of the rotting carcass' exact location. I can't find this flipping thing and it's stinking up my house! I have voice students two days a week. We have to run a "Brethe Machine"(yes, that's the spelling of this scented air purifier) to get rid of some of the smell. Depending on the weather, the odor can get very strong. According to the Internet, chipmunk corpses can take over two weeks to fully dry out and stop stinking. Great. If it's been almost two weeks and the smell is getting stronger, does that mean that I have TWO dead rodents under my house???

I am going to try to get any remaining furbeasts to move out of their condo under my house. I am not going to poison them because they'll likely DIE UNDER MY HOUSE, which is not working out too well for me here. I read that soaking rags in ammonia and stuffing them into SOME of the holes will drive them away. (You have to leave a hole open for them to make their getaway.) Let's hope this works. I've seen "Caddy Shack." Rodents can be cunning... Stay tuned.

Why I knit

According to a magnet I purchased yesterday, "I knit so I don't kill." Knitting, and all my other fibery pursuits, sooth me. They keep my hands busy so I can listen quietly at meetings. They keep my mind busy so I can sit patiently in the waiting room of the medical clinic. Occasionally, life gets in the way and I don't knit (or spin, or weave) for several days in a row. It doesn't take many days before my husband says something wise like, "I haven't seen you knit in a couple of days. Why don't you take some time for a few rows?" (A sentence like that was doubtlessly preceded by a complete melt-down where I found the house "exploded" as I came in from work. Children cowering in the corner push my dh forward to deliver that little speech. OK, perhaps a little exaggerated, but you get the picture.) Knitting is repetitive, meditative and wonderful.

First day of school

Ahhh, the first day of school has come and gone at last. The smell of new crayons. The pitter patter of little feet in the hallways. The lunch hour that goes by oh, so fast. As one of my friends said today, "One down. One hundred seventy nine to go." Kinda takes the wind out of your sails when you put it that way.

The best part of the first day is seeing how much the kids have grown. For an elementary music teacher, the first day of school is also a day to check out each teacher's class and try to figure out how to separate all the students that need separating. If a kid is already naughty on the first day of school, you're probably in for a rough year with them. Best to prevent problems and put those in need of closer supervision (or quick intervention) in the front. With nearly 500 students to deal with, I dread the slow process of figuring out seating charts. Seating charts are essential to my learning so many names, so I guess I'd better get cracking on those!

On Grief

Grief is something Americans are generally uncomfortable talking about. No one knows what to say at funerals. After the first few days following the burial, people just stop checking up on those who lost a loved one. I think that's because it's hard for us to watch someone suffering pain that we cannot fix.

Grief comes in different forms and for different reasons. I have always been considered "the sentimental one" in the family. Recently I figured out that it's not that I'm sentimental in the traditional sense. (Ok. I AM sentimental in the traditional sense, too.) It's more that I am grieving for things yet to be lost. That probably sounds crazy. Maybe so, but I've been this way as long as I can recall.

I remember being little and holding my dog, Heidi, while I cried. She wasn't sick. She was fine. I just knew that "someday" she would die and I cried about it before it even happened. That's my first memory of what I'm going to call pre-grief.

Parenting is a LONG string of pre-grieving opportunities. Every new thing a child does marks the end of a phase of their childhood. As happy as I am that I don't have to change diapers anymore, it is unbearably sad that my kids will never be that small again. My son started pre-school yesterday. A stepping stone to new possibilities and a little step away from little boyhood.
My daughter is 10 and still likes to hold my hand as we walk around places. No matter how hot it is that day, I always let her because there will come a day that she won't want to anymore.

This pre-grief thing is a hard way to live. Still, I think it makes me very appreciative of what I have. I try to squeeze every ounce of special-ness out of each moment I live.

What about real grief? When I've passed through one of those moments I had dreaded and mourned ahead of time, it's like looking into a box filled with familiar but difficult memories. I've in essence practiced for this moment. When a wave of true "now" grief passes over me, I peek into that box and live with the feelings as long as I can stand it, then close the lid. Each time I have to pull out that "box" my feelings are a little different. I recently told a friend about this after the loss of her daughter. The loss never goes away. However, the way you view the event, and yourself, definitely changes. There have been times when I felt like the weakest person alive. Later, sometimes much later, I look back and I can see that even during those helpless moments, I had an inner strength I didn't know about at the time.

Grief is unavoidable. It's part of the human experience. Grief is a sign held up to express what we value and how important it is to us. Even if we grieve in a very private way, the fact that we do at all is a sign that marks a moment in our journey through life.