Tuesday, December 31, 2019

In the Nick of Time

We ran errands today: Christmas exchanges, New Year's groceries, and a few other more prosaic items. But most importantly, we bought our 2020 wall calendars-- which was a good thing, because the other ones are running out tonight!

Monday, December 30, 2019

Running Late, but Still Expected

The sun was out and the rain was coming down when I left the gym around noon. I did a quick 360 scan for the expected rainbow, but seeing nothing hurried to my car and headed off to the grocery store.

And then:

Sunday, December 29, 2019

50 Words for Rain

According to Wikipedia:
The claim that Eskimo languages (specifically, Yupik and Inuit) have an unusually large number of words for "snow", first loosely attributed to the work of anthropologist Franz Boas, has become a cliché often used to support the controversial linguistic-relativity hypothesis that a language's structure (sound, grammar, vocabulary, etc.) shapes its speakers' view of the world. This "strong version" of the hypothesis is largely now discredited...
That may well be, but after an 8 hour, 400 mile road trip with rain, mist, torrential downpour, fog, inland squall, low clouds, drizzle, and road spray the entire way, I think I have an unusually large number of words for wet weather.

But? Believe it or not, they aren't all profanities. Especially since at this time of year it could have all been snow.

Saturday, December 28, 2019

Who Was Happier to See Who?

Was it Heidi or Lucy?

Upon being reunited after a three-day separation, Heidi didn't whimper and jump for joy, but that smile was huge.

I'd say it was a draw.

And, fortunately? They will not be parted again for the foreseeable future.

Friday, December 27, 2019

Season of Darkness, Season of Light

A week or so ago I read an op/ed piece in the NYTimes that resonated with me. Entitled Want to Get into the Spirit of Christmas? Face the Darkness, the author Tish Harrison Warren, an Anglican priest, makes an eloquent case for using Advent as it was meant to be: a season to recognize the short days and long nights leading up to Christmas as an opportunity for contemplation and meditation of the darkness in our lives in order to prepare for the light that Christmas promises.

As she says, "Advent holds space for our grief, and it reminds us that all of us, in one way or another, are not only wounded by the evil in the world but are also wielders of it, contributing our own moments of unkindness or impatience or selfishness."

This year, the loss of my mother has sombered the season for me. The holidays have been both warm and sad, and the notion of Advent holding a space for my grief rings true. But, as Warren also points out, tradition provides twelve days of celebration following Christmas. This awareness also pleases me and fills the emptiness that torn wrapping paper, clearance sales, and early Valentines Day displays may hollow out.

And this morning when my brother and his family were heading back home, my nephew Treat said, "Another Christmas is over," in a sweet sorrow kind of a way.

But when I pointed out that, in some traditions, there were actually 9 more days of celebration left, he quickly adjusted.

"Well, then," he said, "I guess another Christmas has just begun."

Thursday, December 26, 2019

The Spirits of Christmas

Ever since we were children, our Christmas dinner has been roast beef and gravy, mashed potatoes, Yorkshire pudding, and a green vegetable, a delicious, but somewhat time-consuming meal. In this year of change, we have each chosen to hold on to some of our traditions while setting others aside, perhaps until later, perhaps for good.

When it came time to cook our holiday meal, my brother wisely suggested a streamlined version of our old standard. Mild weather encouraged us to grill rib-eyes in place of the standing roast, and potatoes Anna replaced their mashed brethren. A tossed salad with shaved winter vegetables, arugula, and lemon vinaigrette completed the meal. Oh, and there was Yorkshire pudding, too.

The meal, while different, was delicious, and definitely captured the spirit of our Christmases past. Gathered around the huge dining room table, ten of us popped crackers and toasted both the year ending as well as the one ahead.

It wasn't as merry as some of our past holidays, but it was definitely a celebration, and there was a even flicker of more festive times to come.

Wednesday, December 25, 2019

Ride Share, Chapter 2

I didn't really feel like talking at 4:15 in the morning, but I didn't want to be rude to our Uber driver either, and so I asked if he had been busy this early Christmas morning.

"The holidays are always busy," he said, "but I work the overnights anyway."

"Do you have a day job, too?" I asked.

He confessed that he did not; he was in between jobs and taking some online courses, making ends meet by driving a ride share, and waiting for the next thing.

"Do you drive at night because it's more lucrative, then?" I wondered.

"It is," he answered, "but I'm a night owl, anyway, and since I'm usually up until 4 or 5, I prefer to work these hours."

"That makes sense," I said.

"For the most part I like it," he told me, "but you do have to have a pretty thick skin to deal with some of the characters you get at that time. You wouldn't believe some of the things that have happened!"

"You should write a book or do a podcast," I laughed.

"Maybe so," he mused. "But whenever I talk to other drivers, they always have to one up me with some of their crazy stories." He paused. "I guess I could have them as guests on my podcast, though."

I wondered if he was really considering it.

"I'll give you a little piece of it, if it goes well," he laughed.

"And I'll subscribe to your show," I told him. "You can call it the Uber Night Shift!"

Tuesday, December 24, 2019

Holiday Tidings

I finally finished my Christmas baking this morning, rolling out a small batch of rugelach and making some chocolate chip cookies for Heidi's mom. The 17-year-old double oven here is acting up a bit, and that made the tasks a bit more challenging: I had to figure what temperature to set it to to get the proper heat for my cookies. Even more formidable than that, though, was stirring rolling scooping  dipping cooling plating and cleaning up without chipping my nails! Fortunately, I was able to achieve it all.

And now on to the comfort and joy.

Monday, December 23, 2019

Hand Me Down

There was never a day that went by in the many that we spent with my mom at the Mayo Clinic that someone did not make a comment about her beautiful finger nails. They were indeed a point of pride for her, and she was scrupulous in their upkeep, even going so far as to follow her nail technician to several commercial spaces, the last at least 20 minutes away, for 20 years.

And I might have feared the worst, were I not so committed to hoping for the best, when, a few days before her surgery instead of getting her nails repaired after a run in with her ice maker, she opted instead to have them restored to their natural state instead, no color, no filler, no tips. "It's probably for the best," she said. "It will just be easier."

One of the things I remember most about my my grandma was her bright red nail polish; her nails, too were always impeccable, and I think that was one reason why my mom took such good care of her own. As for me, family legend has it that when I was 6, my mom left me and my brother and sister with my dad for a long weekend in Paris with a cousin and her mother-in-law. (As an airline family in the 60s, that kind of thing was wildly possible, but we kids were little, so this trip was a first of its kind.) When she returned, all was well, but I had developed an terrible nail-biting habit, one I wouldn't break for over 52 years.

In fact, it has only been since my mother passed away in October that I have stopped biting my nails. And so today, instead of just a holiday pedicure, I splurged on a manicure, too, and the color I chose? Was the brightest red I could find! Heidi says it looks shocking, but I really like it, because now my hands look like my grandma's hands, and a little like my mom's hands, too.

Sunday, December 22, 2019

There's No Place Like Here for the Holidays

"This is the 20th Christmas I've spent with your family," I told Heidi this morning.

"I'm sorry," she said, and we both laughed, even though she was only half joking. The first Christmas Eve I spent here in Buffalo was the first Christmas Eve I had ever been away from my own family, and I shed a few tears after talking to them on the phone even though I knew I would see them the next day.

I didn't choose the arrangement; both of our families did our big holiday celebration on Christmas Eve, but it seemed more important to Heidi's mom to keep their tradition as it was. And so my side of the family switched their routine, and Heidi and I traveled early on Christmas morning from Buffalo to DC and then Atlanta to be there with them.

Despite all the driving and flying, I never minded the arrangement: we got two Christmases with the people we love most. Over the years, though, I secretly preferred spending Christmas Eve with Heidi's family, for even though I love them dearly, even after the holiday toasts were made and all the gifts were unwrapped, I always had my own mom and brother and sister to look forward to.\

More than anything else, these last months have taught me that the old ways cannot last forever. Everything ends and everything must change. Two Christmases with beloved family is a blessing that I've had for 20 years, and I'm only just now appreciating how wonderful it has been.


Saturday, December 21, 2019

The Journey and the Destination

The day was fair, and, after a bit of metropolitan congestion, the way was clear. The trees in the mountains of Pennsylvania were glazed in ice, set on white fire by the low angle of the late December sun. Further on, light snow flocked the evergreens and covered the ground in a patchy blanket. A little over halfway there the sun set, turning the sky orange and then crimson and then plum. The evening star shone in the west, and Christmas lights guided us ever north up and down hills, through forests, over rivers, and around bends until at last our station wagon rolled to a stop in the driveway of Heidi's parents' house.

Friday, December 20, 2019

Voice of Reason

This week, to much excitement in the neighborhood, a great pizza place opened its second location just up the hill from our house. Our plan today was to pick up a couple of pies for dinner, but even on the way home from school around 4:30 the parking lot was packed.

"I want the pizza, but I'm not sure I want to fight the crowd," I sighed.

"It's the holidays," Heidi pointed out. "Pizza is a heavy meal, and we? Are. going to be. eating."

I nodded.

"Plus? They will be there in January," she continued.

Can't argue with that.

Thursday, December 19, 2019

Penultimate

When the last student left from my last period class today I breathed a sigh of relief. Straightening the chairs and tables as I always do to clear my mind and reset the room between classes, I remarked, "I think I can finally see the light at the end of the tunnel!"

One of my co-teachers was sitting at a table checking her email. "Yeah, I think they really are starting to get it," she agreed without looking up. "The lesson today was pretty good."

"Thanks," I told her, "But I'm talking about Winter Break-- one more day!"

Wednesday, December 18, 2019

The Debate is Real

One of the stories we read for our literary essay unit is "Your Move" by Eve Bunting. A tale of two brothers, one 10 and one 6 who, left alone by their working mother, skip out on the watchful eye of their nextdoor neighbor so that the older one, James, can prove himself to a "club" of boys who call themselves K-Bones. It's undoubtedly a bad decision, but over the course of the story, it becomes clear that James's priority is protecting his brother, who looks up to him, and in the end he realizes his mistake and redeems himself.

At least that's what I think...

My co-teacher finds James completely irresponsible and somewhat reprehensible.

When we talk about the story in class, we each stake our claim and defend it with the text and reasoning, conceding and countering the argument of the other, each convinced we're right.

The students watch like it's a tennis match, and in the end we shrug and laugh, because it's fun arguing with someone you respect.

Tuesday, December 17, 2019

Literally

"Do you know what D did today?" one of my colleagues asked at lunch about a student who is very distractible and more than a little inattentive. "She needed the password for the quiz, and I told her it was "yellow jackets, no spaces," and she typed y-e-l-l-o-w-j-a-c-k-e-t-s-n-o-s-p-a-c-e-s!"

"In my class," another teacher reported, "I was helping her write her essay, so I told her to write down the chicken foot [a metaphor for a claim with 3 supporting reasons] and she wrote 'the chicken foot' on her paper!" he shook his head.

"Well, in my class," a third teacher chimed in, "I said, "Write your name on the top of the page," and she wrote 'your name'!"

C'mon!


Monday, December 16, 2019

On Second Thought

"Do you have your iPad?" I asked my Gracie Allen homeroom student this morning. She had tried to borrow a laptop earlier, and I had put the ix-nay on that, but it seemed as if she was now absorbed in something below table level, and so the question.

"Yes!" she told me brightly.

"Then bring it over here so I can show you what we are working on," I directed her.

Her face turned stormy and without even looking up she snapped, "No! I don't want to!"

My eyebrows shot up in surprise, for she is usually quite cooperative. "Uh oh!" I said.

She raised her head and looked at my face. "I mean," she responded breathlessly, "Coming right away!"

And she did.

Sunday, December 15, 2019

Read It and Weep

As my brother and sister and I sorted through my mother's condo this weekend, my sister held out the slimmest of hopes that we might find some notes to us, and I clung to any scrap of writing that revealed and preserved the remarkable person she was.

Five years ago my mom downsized from a three level 3 bedroom townhouse. As vigorous a 75-year-old as she was, the process of organizing the material trappings of 20 years or more, even though carried out over several months, took a toll on her. Once she adjusted to condo living Mom was very happy, but she had learned her lesson, and she was ruthless when it came to hanging on to all but the most useful, valuable, and/or sentimental of objects.

My brother and sister and I have always appreciated her practical sensibility, but now that she's gone her pragmatism has been an immense relief to us us we sort through her estate: it has made an unbearable job a little more manageable.

And we have no doubt that what is left was truly valuable to her-- the handmade cards from Riley, Treat, Richard, and Annabelle, the thank you note from Emily written in the early 90s, and the email from Heidi in 2003.

Even though the three of us sat by sobbing as she called her closest friends to say goodbye, my mother had no final words for any of us in the last days and hours of her life. She resolutely believed that we all knew how vast and unwavering her love for us was, and so there was nothing to say. 

Saturday, December 14, 2019

Fresh Weather

"How are you doing in the cold?" all my mom's Minnesota friends have asked.

They were referring to the snowy single-digit conditions that have been the daily standard since we landed on Friday.

"I kind of like it!" I tell them.

And when they tsk, I continue with a shrug, "It's a novelty for us."

"Right!" my brother agrees. "Plus? We're leaving tomorrow!"

Friday, December 13, 2019

To Cushion or Not to Cushion

The two estate agency representatives were of different minds when we asked if it would be best if at least one of us was present when they came to pack and parcel my mom's belongings. The 10 o'clock women, who were warm and personal, told us that it would probably be a good idea, if possible. They asked about some of my mom's more remarkable possessions and encouraged us to write up descriptions of them for the prospective buyers they were sure would love them.

The noon woman, who was all business and photographs, said, "Absolutely not! In fact, we actually charge more if someone's here."

We looked at her quizzically.

"Not really," she clarified, "but so often people follow us around, picking things up, telling us their stories. That takes time, and we are on the clock."

Maybe she thought she was being a little too harsh. "It's also really hard for you," she continued in a softer tone. "We're very organized and professional. Right now? This place is a home, but when we are done? It will be a house-- four walls. That's what you want, but it's hard to watch it happen."

Thursday, December 12, 2019

Ride Share

"I don't think I've ever had a pick-up as my Uber before," I noted as I settled myself in the back of the king cab on my way to the airport this morning.

"Yah, I get that a lot," William, my driver, told me adjusting the volume on the sound system.

I fiddled with my phone as soothing meditation music flowing from the speakers elevated the familiar landmarks we rolled past. High rises gleamed, gulls swooped, and golden rapids riffled the wide urban stream outside my window as the music swelled in the Ford F-150. Even the water treatment plant and metro bus lot were transformed by the light and music as we glided past. I set my phone aside and took a deep breath.

Arriving at the curbside check-in 10 minutes later, I felt refreshed and renewed, which was really not what I had expected at all. "Thank you for the ride, William," I said, climbing out of the truck.

He nodded, and I stepped forward into my day.


Wednesday, December 11, 2019

Consensus

It was an early release with a winter concert assembly today which left limited time for a few other items like locker clean outs and the "Know Your Rights" presentation that all secondary school students are required to see. Even so, my homeroom was quick enough to have time for a movie after lunch.

Students suggested a few films some reasonable (Home Alone), some not (It), and they were debating when an idea occurred to me. "Hey you guys!" I said. "What about Toy Story 4?"

There was mild enthusiasm, but it wasn't a clear winner by any stretch. "It's just that I haven't had a chance to see it, yet," I explained, more to myself than to them as they returned to their discussion.

One student heard me, though. "You haven't?" she asked.

I shook my head a little ruefully, for I haven't seen very many movies at all this year.

"I vote for Toy Story 4!" she said. "Ms. S. wants to see it!"

"I do, too," said another student, and one by one they stepped to the white board and erased their tally marks under the movie they had voted for to place them under mine.

"Aw... thanks you guys!" I told them. "I'll make some popcorn!"

Tuesday, December 10, 2019

Karma Thrash

I was in a snit when I scooped up the lollipop stick from the table in my room and marched out the door after the girl who had left it. The hallway was packed with a throng of students changing classes, but I spotted her right away one door down. "Hold out your hand!" I demanded and when she did I dropped her rubbish into her palm and spun on my heel. I didn't get far however, because as I turned toward my room, 120 pounds of sixth grade boy hit me and body slammed me into the wall behind me. My head whiplashed back and hit the window of the classroom as he bounced off me and back into the mosh pit of the class change. Seeing both stars and red, I staggered forward and glared at him in disbelief.

"I didn't do it! I was pushed!" he explained desperately and pointed to a culprit clad in red and orange sweat pants snaking his way down the hall and toward the stairs. His mistake was in looking over his shoulder, for it was then that I locked eyes with him and waved him back.

I was cross; he was defiant; it was an unbridgeable gap.  Fortunately I spotted the assistant principal down the hall and handed off the situation to him. 

Monday, December 9, 2019

Rule of Five

Here in the dark and the wet and the cold and the sheer busy-ness of early December we find ourselves resisting exercise and activity, despite the routines and regimens we have worked so hard to cultivate.

That's where the rule of five comes in-- we must do five minutes of something and after that? We can quit. But as Heidi pointed out with a scoff and a growl when I first proposed this guideline, No one will stop at five minutes once they start!

Indeed!

So far.

Sunday, December 8, 2019

Nothing But

Right before the turn for the highway up to the Twin Cities, there is a modest strip mall in Rochester, MN. We stopped there a few times over the months that I traveled there occasionally with my mom for her treatments at the Mayo Clinic: once for gas, once for lunch at a Mediterranean place,  and once for my mom to get her nail fixed after a run-in with her ice maker. It was on the last stop that we noticed the marquee on one of the store fronts tucked into the shopping center. Nothing Bundt Cake, it proclaimed.

My mom had a sweet tooth and more than anything, we were trying to boost her calories, plus? My birthday was in a couple days.

An old-fashioned bell jangled over the door when we pushed it open, and the smell of fresh baked cake washed over us. A friendly young woman welcomed us warmly and gestured to the samples on a small round table to our left. Everything was delicious-- but the lemon raspberry special, the chocolate chocolate chip, and the red velvet were our favorites, and so my mom bought a few mini cakes to celebrate. It was a pleasure seeing how much she enjoyed them.

Later in the summer, Heidi, my mom, and I moved to Rochester for a month, and the same formerly forgettable little strip mall became one of our main shopping destinations with a great grocery, pet supply, and liquor store conveniently located there. Those little bundt cakes were a treat my mom always enjoyed, no matter how tepid her appetite otherwise. So much so, that when she died, we looked for a NBC franchise near enough to her home to buy desserts for her funeral lunch, but without success.

The other night I hosted my writing group. It was the first time we had met since before school ended last year, and it was time. I love those gals, but to be honest, I don't really feel like seeing many people yet. The four of us always split the meal-- hosting means providing dinner, and the other three bring apps, wine, and dessert. This time, Ellen brought delicious chutney and cheddar and crackers, Mary brought some wonderful Spanish red wine, and Leah arrived with treats from a brand new place that none of us even knew had opened.

"Nothing Bundt Cake," she announced as she deposited the bakery box on the sideboard. "Have you heard of it?"

Saturday, December 7, 2019

Original Recipe

My mother and I shared the same taste in Christmas cookies, and every year it has been a pleasant chore for me to spend a Saturday or Sunday in December baking our favorites, Russian Tea Cakes, Rugelach, and Mandelbrot to share.

Last year, as I plucked one of the almond-flavored, biscotti-like Mandelbrot studded with walnuts and glace cherries from the tin, I asked her if she liked them, for we had lost our traditional recipe and I had been trying to recreate it ever since. "No!" she told me without hesitation, "they are too dense and too floury."

"Noted!" I laughed. "I'll try to do better next year!"

The morning after my mom died, I restlessly roamed her condo as I waited for the coffee to brew. Opening a cupboard below the TV, I found a white, 2-inch binder and flipped it open. It was filled with recipes in page protectors, mostly photocopied or typed and printed both for convenience and to compensate the palsy that made handwriting laborious and barely legible the last several years of her life.

But the recipe I turned to first was near the middle of the binder and written on a sheet from a notepad in my mother's own hand. Mandelbrot, it read.

This year, my holiday baking is going to be a little less than in the past, because I'll be away from home next weekend to help organize my mom's estate, and then we'll be off to Buffalo the weekend after that. Even so, there are three varieties of cookies I will definitely bake, and I started this morning.

With the Mandelbrot, of course, which turned out to be crispy and light, just as my mother would have liked.

Friday, December 6, 2019

Re Re Re Re Reading

For the last four or five years we have used the same short story as a common text to teach our students about analyzing a literary character and crafting a claim to argue in an essay. I confess that the first year, I was not that impressed with "Raymond's Run" by Toni Cade Bambara; we used it because the Teachers College materials for writing workshop provided mini-lesson and materials to go along with it. 

BUT, after reading it, listening to it, re-reading it, and discussing it 5 times a day for a week, not to mention dissecting the character of Squeaky and guiding hundreds of students through writing a thesis statement to argue about her, I have changed my mind. Hazel Elizabeth Deborah Parker is a positive pistol of a person, and Bambara? Is a damn good writer.

Thursday, December 5, 2019

Hard Reality

In general, I don't mind attending parent meetings, because I appreciate the time and opportunity to consider individual students and their needs. It's a good reminder of what we educators do for whom and why.

In particular, after two such back-to-back meetings this afternoon lasting from 1-4 PM, my butt literally hurts.

Wednesday, December 4, 2019

Documentation

"What are you writing?" asked the student I sat next to during class as my co-teacher led the instruction.

"Oh, I'm just taking notes about your behavior," I told him. "Want me to read what I have so far?"

"Okay," he answered with an impressive mix of hesitation and defiance.

"1)" I started, "doing the Macarena in the middle of the classroom."

"What's the Macarena?" he scoffed.

"That little dance you were doing right after the bell rang," I explained. "2) shouting "Do you want a Kiss?" across the room while the teacher was giving instructions."

"I meant a Hershey Kiss," he said.

"I know," I assured him, "but that's what you were shouting. 3) Offering candy to other students while the teacher was doing the lesson."

"Nobody got any," he shrugged.

I nodded. "4) standing up and pretending to put his gym shorts on over his jeans."

"Fine!" he said. "I'll follow the directions."

"Great!" I replied and waited a moment. "5) got his writing notebook and iPad out."

He raised his eyebrows, and picked up his pencil.

"6)" I said, "wrote some great observations about the character in the story!"

He smiled. "Keep writing!" he told me. "I can do a lot more."

Tuesday, December 3, 2019

Worlds Collide

Several years ago, so long I can't remember exactly when or where, I read (or saw? or heard?) about how physical touch can build community. Just a brief handshake can forge an unconscious positive connection. As soon as I discovered the notion I put it to use. Standing outside my door before each class, I greeted each student by name with either a hand shake, a fist bump, or a high five.

I'm pretty sure I had positive results, but like so many things in a busy teacher's day, that strategy fell by the wayside as I reset the lesson on the smart board, pulled up the class attendance, and pushed in the chairs and picked up any stray belongings from the class before (another useful habit, along the lines of the broken window theory).

But today, something there was that prompted me to give the human touch a try with my last class of the day, which is again this year my most challenging, mostly because of a couple of boys who are impulsive, negative attention-seekers with poor self-regulation skills. And so I stood by the door and welcomed each kid by name and offered him or her a high-five along with my sincere wish to Have a great class! My co-teachers walked in last, with big smiles and hands slapping as they wished each other a good class, too.

Did it work? I'd like to think so-- the two most troublesome students were pretty subdued (but that might have been due to the fact that their moms were coming in today and tomorrow).

And everyone else? Was... sort of on task.

Even so, the episode reminded me that I teach people, not classes, and every single kid is a whole universe walking around in jeans, sneakers, and a hoodie. To them, the 42 minutes they spend in my class is a blip, and I am mostly incidental.

Unless I choose otherwise.

Monday, December 2, 2019

Never Say Never

The activity was pretty simple: work in small groups and report out to the class evaluating claims to decide whether or not they could make strong argument strong essays. The choices were a little confusing, though: "too obvious" if few would disagree, "not defensible" if few would argue in favor, and "controversial" for that just right claim, but that's why we were working together.

The task was harder for some than others, but most had to give it some thought. Then there was that one kid who wanted to argue every issue, no matter how outrageous. Of course she knew she was tilting at windmills when she raised her hand to say that perhaps all middle school students in the US should indeed work full time in addition to their studies, and she understood full well the difficulties in arguing that only citizens between the ages of 18 and 25 should be allowed to vote, but she was grasping for a challenge and I couldn't fault her for that.

And when it came time for the independent assessment, she aced it in under five minutes. Looking around at the rest of her classmates working intently, she whispered, "What should I do now?"

"Why don't you start drafting your argument that only families with small children should be allowed in amusement parks?" I asked her. "Or would you rather argue that children of all ages should be able to drive?"

"I think I'll read my book," she laughed.

Sunday, December 1, 2019

#HolidayReady

I thought the gym might be a little crowded on the Sunday after Thanksgiving-- maybe folks wanted to work off the extra pie? But that was not the case. The nail salon, on the other hand?

Was packed!

Saturday, November 30, 2019

Kite-tastrophe

Not really-- just a badly knotted string and a few crashes on the beach this morning, but I couldn't resist the pun.

My frame of mind may have been swayed by the stupid game I bought at a discount store yesterday. Despite a fabulous, well-designed box that actually turned into the game board, our first clue that we were in for an unsatisfying gaming experience was the rules: they seemed to be written in only a semi-chronological way, which was confusing and did not inspire confidence.

The game itself consisted of kind of hard logic puzzles written on cards with the answers printed right below, suggesting that they were to be read aloud. Most were way too complicated to solve without reviewing the text, though, which was another huge flaw. Finally, each player only had an unreasonable 2 minutes to solve as many of the brain teasers as possible.

In the end, we just read the cards and tried to solve them together. In that low stakes environment, although my mathematical reasoning was rusty, I had a knack for the word and language puzzles.

Lest I get too full of myself though, I must share one more anecdote. On the way out of town we passed a drugstore marquee with the message, "Get your flushot here".

What's a flushot? I asked myself. Do they mean "flush out"? What would you flush out that a pharmacy would have the tools? Maybe it's because we're at the beach. And so on, the tumblers of my brain kept turning to unlock the cryptic cypher.

Yah. I was way down the road when I realized they meant flu shot.

Friday, November 29, 2019

Maximize the Potential

When the beach gives you wind, what do you do?

Bundle up, take a deep breath of the extra salty air, head toward the tossing sea, put your shoulder down, and march into the gale as far as you can, Gal, so that the trip back will be leeward, quiet and calm, with a little extra nudge to keep you going.

AND

fly a kite!


Thursday, November 28, 2019

When the Fates Don't Allow

There was something quite wonderful about spending Thanksgiving in a house large enough for everyone to wake up and watch the parade and the dog show and cook an amazing meal with a ridiculous number of sides, enjoy our dinner and still have a couple of more days together at the beach.

I miss you, Mom.

Wednesday, November 27, 2019

Gross Motor Skills

"What else did we learn besides skipping and galloping?" I asked my brother.

He looked at me blankly, then frowned. "Do you mean in gym when we were little?" He cocked his head. "Because that is super out of context."

I laughed so hard at his observation that I had to duck into the ladies room, but of course I meant exactly that. Somehow the notion of galloping and skipping had come up when I was walking with Treat and Annabelle, and as the three of us skipped and galloped along the boardwalk beneath the Bodie Island Lighthouse.

"Wasn't there a scissor step or an umbrella thing?" I asked when I returned, reaching back 5 minutes and 50 years. "But I have no idea what it actually looked like."

"Do you mean in Mother May I?" Heidi suggested.

"Oh my gosh!" I said. "I think maybe so!"

But Bill was ahead of us, googling umbrella and scissor steps. "Plant your heel, pivot, walk forward and repeat," he directed. Victor and I did so obediently, umbrella stepping down the trail toward Currituck Sound.

"That's it!" I cried.

"Step ahead and to the right, then bring your feet together. Now do it to the left," he said.

"Scissor step!" I confirmed, muscle memory recalling relay races through the gym in long ago elementary school PE classes. "Why did they even teach us that?"

Tuesday, November 26, 2019

Wisdom of Mary

"I need rock candy," Emily said as we started our shopping excursion yesterday.

"That's unusual," I commented.

"It's for a kid in my homeroom," she explained. "Mary Brown told me that she asks her students a whole bunch of questions at the beginning of the year, and one of them is favorite candy. Then she just buys them a big one for their birthday."

I nodded.

"It's genius, really," Emily continued, "because you can just buy them in advance and keep them in your classroom. Except for rock candy," she shrugged, "but I figured I could find it at the beach."

And she did.

"Feel this shell," I told Emily this morning as we walked up the beach. "It's so smooth and soothing."

"It is nice," she replied.

"Mary Brown told me she keeps a bunch of these on her desk at school, and then gives them out to kids as fidgets. They love 'em!"

'That's a cool idea," Emily agreed.

"We should just have Mary here!" I laughed. "We've been talking about her the whole trip."

Monday, November 25, 2019

Give Thanks

This day started with a walk on the beach... in my pajamas! The November morning was mild and still, and Lucy needed to go out, so there we were a few minutes after sunrise with no one but the pelicans and gulls for company.

After that? The day only improved, featuring good coffee, a nice breakfast, lots of sunshine, and another walk on the beach, this one a family pack walk with all 4 dogs. Later we had fresh seafood for lunch on the pier and then did some early holiday shopping at the outlet mall before witnessing a stunning sunset over the sound.

A satisfying dinner and one last night time romp on the beach with glow collars for the dogs and a variety of other phosphorescent accessories for the humans under a sensational assemblage of stars rounded out the opening 24 hours of our Thanksgiving week.

So often it is easy to believe that every day of vacation will be as amazing as the first, but, especially at the beach, that is not always true. The weather, winds and tides are fickle, and our own temperaments waver as well.

Another turn of the earth will tell whether tomorrow outshines or pales in comparison to today, but rather than fear or even face disappointment, I choose to be grateful for this wonderful day.

Sunday, November 24, 2019

Gal's Pal

On our first evening at the beach, I hovered in front of the sparse offerings of an ice-filled case in a local seafood market. It was, after all, Sunday evening. But the fresh Carolina shrimp looked good, and they were what we had come for.

"Who's next?" called a brawny fishmonger in his early thirties.

I looked around at the other patrons, but none of them acknowledged waiting for service. "I guess it's me," I said.

"What do you need, then, Gal?" he asked me in friendly twang.

Charmed, I placed my order. It's going to be a good week.

Saturday, November 23, 2019

Believe It or Not

Many years ago now, a good friend of mine gave me the name of a pet psychic who had helped her through the loss of her dog. Since then, we have invited her to our home 4 or 5 times to communicate with our pets, too. Whether you approach such an experience with faith or strictly as an hour or so of entertainment, it is always well worth it. Diane's energy is warm and lovely and it's fun to get an answer when you talk to your pets.

Each visit has been a little different. The first time, Diane impressed us with all the things our dog told her about the our home, neighborhood, and the dog park. She even had some gossip about some of the other dog walkers she knew from going to the park with our dog walker. On that visit, our cat reinforced our impression of her as ever wary. She told the medium that there were several stray cats in the area and also that somebody was breaking into cars at night... both true.

The last time we had her here was when our beloved dog, Isabel, was very ill and we were wrestling with our own desire to keep her with us versus her pain and suffering. "She's ready to go," Diane said, and so we braced ourselves and let her go.

Three years later we have three new pets, and it seemed like a good time to check in with them. This morning's visit brought no surprises-- our dog and cats are happy, and Diane nailed their personalities and idiosyncrasies exactly, but we already knew them well. Often when she is here, Diane channels human spirits, too, and today was no exception. But again, even though it was extraordinary for someone who we haven't seen in three years to know so much about the events of the past months, her message from spirit was nothing I didn't know already.

Even so? It was nice to have some independent affirmation, and I look forward to the next time we see her again.

Friday, November 22, 2019

The Writing and the Writer

Over the last few years, our essay unit has become more and more structured, featuring step-by-step graphic organizers that we do as a class for every phase of the process. The formula is practical, but there is very little room for creative expression. Most kids go through the paces, some more compliantly than others. As a matter of course, we get the writing we expect, dull and predictable, which is also the writing we deserve.

I do have to hand it to those few writers who find a way to make these practice essays their own-- requesting to argue that Goldilocks was well within her rights and that the third little pig is overly controlling. Their writing is like a wild stallion that bucks at the bridle, and although their arguments are not always as neat and tidy as the box-and-bullet structure demands, I have no doubt at the end of the unit that they are the gifted among us.

Thursday, November 21, 2019

Three of a Kind

We had just finished a rah rah, team building, cooperative learning demo in the staff meeting yesterday and were moving on to an "instructional showcase" when a wave of dismay hit me hard.

I just can't, I thought, and quietly excused myself to seek out the ladies room.

As I was leaving the restroom, I passed Heidi on her way in. "What are you doing here?" I asked.

"I need the same accommodation," she answered and headed into the head.

Back in the library, I ran into Emily. "I hate these things," she sighed. "I usually try to come late or find an excuse to leave."

Wednesday, November 20, 2019

They Have Those

My co-teacher and I decided to split up our inclusion class today and do the same activity in teacher-led small groups. A last minute glitch in our plans had us scrambling to regroup, and in the interest of time we separated them into boys and girls.

"Who do you want?" I asked him.

"I'll take the boys," he shrugged, and led them to an empty classroom next door.

The girls and I pushed a couple of tables together over near the whiteboard so that we could sit in unison as we worked our way through the lesson.

"It's so quiet!" one girl said. "I can't believe the boys make so much noise!"

I laughed and continued the lesson.

"It is so much easier to pay attention!" another girl remarked.

"You guys are doing a really good job!" I told them, and I realized that group praise had been missing from their class. It's tough to find something true and good when at least one adult in the room has spent most of the class time redirecting a few of the students. Added to that is the fact that the group dynamic is such that none of the students want to be singled out for praise, either.

We continued the class with this newfound attitude of competency. "Look at how much we got done!" one of the girls said with pride and disbelief. SHe turned to her classmates. "We should go to an all-girls school!"

Tuesday, November 19, 2019

Just Wow

I was sitting in the leg lift machine at the gym and adjusting the backrest so that my knees would be at the correct pivot point when I glanced up. A woman who was probably in her thirties had take residence on the mats in front of me with two 15 pound dumbbells.

I pulled the pin and adjusted the weight down to 45, considering if I wanted a challenge or not.

She assumed a push-up position and placed the dumbbells shoulder width apart.

I decided to do 3 sets of 15 reps.

She did a perfect push up on the weights, and then switched to one arm by lifting one of the dumbbells into a chest row.

I pushed my jaw up and my legs down.

We continued that way until I was finished.

Monday, November 18, 2019

George and Gracie Moment

I have a student in my homeroom who is developmentally a bit behind her sixth grade peers. Every morning she bursts into the room and with a huge sigh proclaims, "Phew! I made it!" panting all the way over to her seat, even though she is there several minutes before the bell.

Despite my daily reassurance that she is on time, the mini-drama repeats every morning with little variation, as it did this morning.

"It's okay," I said. "You are right on time! Great job!"

But today there was more. Her eyes grew wide. "I was almost late because we had to take Grandma to the airport," she reported breathlessly. "She had to go home to Minnesota."

Having spent so much time in that state recently myself, I asked her, "Do you know where your grandma lives in in Minnesota?"

"No," she answered. "Where?"

Sunday, November 17, 2019

A Little Sting

The Birchmere is much more organized than the last time I was there. The club is general admission, and for shows starting at 7:30 the box office and bar open at 5. Ticket holders receive a first-come-first-served number like at a bakery or deli counter. At 6 when the doors to the venue open, people are allowed to claim their seats only when their numbers are called.

But what about the tickets? you may ask. Patrons present their electronic tickets to be scanned after surrendering their number, but before entering the hall. This system was entirely new to me, but I felt like Heidi and I were navigating it all pretty well until they called our number and I showed them my barcode. "That's one ticket," the door guy said. "Where's the other one?"

"Uh," I answered, and he briskly directed us to the side where two young men I had not noticed earlier stood.

As I fumbled with my phone, they suggested that Heidi go ahead in and get our seats. Their kindness did not make me any less flustered as I swiped and tapped my phone screen desperately trying to remember where I had retrieved that one ticket from before adding it to my wallet for convenience.

But the guy who helped me was very patient, adopting a tone I have often used myself when directing students through a necessary but way too-complicated process on their iPads. Open Safari, I don't see the tab, open a new one, go to Ticketmaster, log in, hit skip, tap my tickets, swipe over, there it is, and with a quick little beep he scanned it with his own phone and I was on my way.

But not before I gave him a high five, mostly just to slap the feeling of being old right out of myself.

Saturday, November 16, 2019

All the Fall

Many Saturday mornings you can find me puttering in the kitchen:sipping coffee, listening to the news, cooking breakfast, and baking vegan muffins for Heidi to take in her lunch. That hasn't been so for a couple of months, though. A combination of out of town travel and other commitments has kept me from my Saturday routine since early September.

Back then, autumn was no more than wishful thinking and a few apples at the farmers market. In fact, the last thing I baked was a blueberry coffee cake with a miso streusel.

On the third Saturday of November, though, fall has definitely arrived; our potted plants have been brought in, the wood rack is filled, and the weather is downright chilly. And this morning? I baked pumpkin gingerbread muffins with apples and cranberries.

That's more like it.

Friday, November 15, 2019

Not Today, Children

"Take your hood off, please," I asked a student who came to my room for the after school Anime Club.

"Why?" a friend of his asked with some attitude. "School is over." She looked at me with more than a little defiance.

"Oh yeah?" I said, meeting her gaze. "Then go home."

He took his hood off.

She stayed.

Thursday, November 14, 2019

What is Jeopardy?

I like the game; I even tried out for the show, but in truth, I haven't regularly watched Jeopardy in years. I'm usually writing or cooking at that hour, and so the show dropped from my routine.

But, the same was not true for my mother. She was an inveterate fan, even going so far as to record the show on her DVR so that she, and any guest, could watch at their convenience. And we did! In the many days I was fortunate enough to spend with my mom in the last months of her life, we watched Jeopardy together on most of them. Last April we saw James Holzhauer's first victory and in October we saw the waning episodes of his championship in reruns at the hospital. Like so many devotees of the game, my mom was both impressed and dismayed by his dominating, 2 million dollar, buzzsaw reign.

And of course, when I saw that he had made the finals of the Tournament of Champions, along with Francois and Emma, champions I had also watched with my mom, I had to tune in. So tonight? I am multitasking: both typing and calling out my answers, all of them in the form of a question, obviously.

Wednesday, November 13, 2019

In Negotiation

Call me crazy, but with limited space in our apartment-sized living room, I don’t think a 6 foot tall cat structure should be part of the furniture. Oh, it was me who ordered the monstrosity, but it was Heidi who really wanted such a thing, and I guess I figured with a new, more compact couch and chair, that we could accommodate it. But once we put it together and the cats loved it, the battle lines were drawn.

But really? It is 3 to 1 with an abstention from the dog, so I guess it stays.

For now. 

Tuesday, November 12, 2019

Invaluable

"Is that Apple Watch worth it?" asked the young cashier at the grocery store next to the gym as I tapped it on the card reader to pay.

I shrugged. "Well, it just did that," I said, "and I use it to track my exercise." I gestured at my workout clothes. "And," I continued thoughtfully, "I'm a teacher, so sometimes it's helpful to be able to check my texts without looking at my phone."

But I had lost him at "teacher".

"Props to you!" he exclaimed. "The most undervalued profession!"

"Thanks," I told him.

"I mean it!" he said. "I am in touch with all my teachers even though I graduated a couple of years ago. They have given me so much! I will never forget them! Thank you for being a teacher!"

I'd say the watch was worth it just for that.

Monday, November 11, 2019

I Heart Buffalo

Even when you have a long road trip ahead of you there is nothing so magical as waking up to snow silently falling. A pretty dust on the grass and and a wee bit of white clinging perfectly to every pine bough and tree branch is also impossible to disdain.

Especially when the roads are clear!

Sunday, November 10, 2019

Long Distance Notifications

From time to time today my watch would chime with some alert or another. Twice it was to tell me that there was a severe traffic incident back in Arlington, which, given the location would not have affected me even were I not 500 miles away in Buffalo, NY. Once it was to say that we no longer need to boil our water in Arlington, which was an ordeal resulting from the water main break that I was relieved to miss.

And three times I was notified that light rain was starting in Minneapolis, which was so sorrowfully irrelevant that I got a little lump in my throat.

Saturday, November 9, 2019

November Winds

On this November weekend in Buffalo we walk the dog along the same neighborhood streets as we do in July and at Christmas. Gone, however, are the long golden evenings of summer, not yet replaced by merry lights reflected on blankets of snow. Instead, bare boughs shake in a blustery gale blowing dry leaves over faded pumpkins.

I consider myself a cold weather person, always preferring to be too cold rather than uncomfortably warm. Today, though, the wind was a scalpel resecting any hearty resilience I might muster. Shoulders hunched and head bowed I cringed against the cold and wondered what this winter will bring.

Because I know that the weather is far from out of the ordinary, and the rawness? Is all mine.

Friday, November 8, 2019

A Season Come Early

Reports of a water main break murmured on the radio in the background while we were preparing for school this morning. And the lunches were packed, the garbage on the curb, and the dog properly walked before my phone started blowing up.

No school today! the news gleefully spread.

An unexpected four day weekend was a gift indeed. In fact, we are packing our bags right now for an early departure to Buffalo, no substitutes needed. It will be a quick trip, indeed, but Tuesday is all planned with the activities left undone today, and that only leaves a 3 day week ahead.

And? As my co-teacher kindly pointed out via text this morning, it's supposed to snow on Tuesday.

Thursday, November 7, 2019

Please Fence Me In

I started each class today with a little review of rules and expectations, both mine and the school's. I think it went pretty well.

A long time ago a friend of mine told me about an experiment some psychologists did on babies. They put some crawlers in the middle of a big open field and observed their reactions. Most of the children stayed tightly bunched together where they left them. Then they put the same kids in an open area that was fenced. In that situation the little ones crawled and toddled as far as they could within the limits they had.

My friend's point? Boundaries are healthy and necessary for kids. Knowing there are limits provides the safety to explore right up to them. (Even so, there will always be a few kids who will find a way over, around, and through the fence. We need those people who ignore restrictions.)

I thought of her today at the end of my reminders. The students were more than receptive. They nodded and got right to work when I was done. It was more of a pep talk than a scolding.

And maybe? After nearly a month of the unpredictability of substitutes, they were glad that the fence was back in place.

Wednesday, November 6, 2019

No Excuses

Now that my mom is gone, what she would have wanted for me seems so clear. I started exercising more back in April as a way to handle the extreme stress I was feeling because of her grave health condition. When she died, that burden was lifted and, in my grief, the last thing I wanted to do was go work out, but I knew Mom would have been disappointed if I didn't.

On one of her last days, I jokingly told her that I was about to lose 25% of my blog readership. We laughed, but when she died, I didn't want to write anymore either. Again, I understood how annoyed she would have been if I used her loss as an excuse to stop.

She was never one to make excuses, and growing up, my siblings and I thought she was kind of a hardass. Looking back at her whole life, though, I can see what grit she had, how it helped her, and why she wanted that for us, too.

Tuesday, November 5, 2019

Unattended

I never do it.

I am a rule follower, and there has never been a time in the almost 40 years I've been driving that I have left the gas pump unattended. Even in rain, snow, frigid temps, or blazing heat, I am on hand waiting for that tell-tale thump that signals the auto shut-off. And then? I obediently replace the nozzle, push the no receipt button, screw on my gas cap, and close that tiny door.

But not today. For some reason, I thought it was more important to return to my car and hear the end of a segment on Morning Edition. But as I listened, I kept my eyes on the pump display. When it hit 17 gallons, I was surprised that the tank had been sooooo empty, but when it hit 18 I cussed What the fuck? and shoved open the car door only to watch in embarrassment as the two women at the adjoining pumps dashed through a fountain of gasoline to squeeze the handle off. And then I, too, waded sheepishly through the puddle of petrol sloshing against my tires to do what I have done so many times.

Replace that nozzle.

I guess that's why they have that sign.

Monday, November 4, 2019

Hand-me-downs

Confronting my mom's apartment was overwhelming: not only was there a lot of stuff, but the thought of dismantling her home was more heartbreaking than we could manage right then. And so, because my mother was so amazingly organized, my brother and sister and I were able to leave that enormous task to another day.

While we were there, though, Courtney, Heidi, Annabelle, Emily, Aunt Harriett, and I did take the opportunity to raid her fabulous clothes closet from time to time. I needed a swimsuit; she had several, and the same was true for shoes, pants, tops, vests, and coats in the week we spent together before her funeral. We didn't feel guilty in the least: all of us knew that my pragmatic mother would have wholly approved.

In fact today Heidi wore a pair of my mom's pants to school, while I wore a fleece vest she got on our Alaska trip and her short Ugg boots. I know I took comfort in my outfit every single time I thought about it, and when the day was done, a quick glance at my watch showed that I had literally walked 3 miles in my mother's shoes.

Sadly, that journey has just begun.

Sunday, November 3, 2019

My Spin

I miss my mom, and I find myself cooking as if she were visiting. Tonight? It's cauliflower pizza on the menu, one of my mom's specialties, but, being me, of course I couldn't just follow the recipe.

Oh no, rather than bake the pizza neatly on a sheet pan as directed, I had to preheat the pizza stone to 500 and roll, toss, and stretch my free form crust onto the peel before topping it with a hearty mixture of cauliflower, onions, and cheese.

As I gave the pizza a shake to make sure I could slide it on the stone, the topping flew off the edges. "Uh oh, Ma," I said, "this could be a problem."

And I knew that had she been here, she would have been torn between I told you so... and You can do it!

Choosing to go with the latter, I opened the oven and, with a little wrist action and a pair of tongs, was able to get that pizza baking. The final product was delicious, and I like to think that my mom would have thought so, too.

Saturday, November 2, 2019

Doing Dishes

I spent the early part of my evening washing dishes. A lot of dishes. 11 dinner plates, 12 salad plates, 12 bread plates, 12 soup bowls, 12 monkey bowls, 11 1/2 saucers, 11 coffee cups, a creamer, a sugar bowl (with lid!), a gravy boat, a covered casserole, a large platter, small platter, and a oblong serving bowl. It was my grandmother's china service for twelve.

My mom's sister passed it along to me this afternoon in an enormous cardboard box. When we arrived home, I found the dishes wrapped in sections of the Washington Post from July to September 1972. My grandmother died in April of that year, and someone had carefully packed her china when my grandfather sold the house and moved in with my Aunt Harriett. The newspaper was yellowed and smelled of the decades it had spent in Harriett's basement. A stink bug jumped out at me from the first bowl, and so we dragged the heavy box out to the front stoop where I unwrapped the other 89 pieces.

Not surprisingly, after 47 years, they all needed a gentle scrub, and so I carefully carried the piles into the kitchen counter and filled the sink with warm, soapy water. There I dunked and wiped and rinsed and dried each piece of the Noritake porcelain stamped Made in Occupied Japan, admiring as I washed the tiny bouquets of zinnias and the red and gold band circling every one.

As I worked I couldn't help wondering who the last person was to wash these dishes. Was it my grandmother, after a dinner with friends? My grandfather, doing his part to help out at the end of evening of entertaining? Could it have been my mom, after a holiday meal? And when I was done, I knew the answer to that question, and it kind of made me sad that it was me.

Friday, November 1, 2019

That's What You Do

Here's a riddle I love:

First you throw away the outside
and cook the inside,
then you eat the outside
and throw away the inside.

The answer?

Corn on the cob.

Yesterday I bought some peeled corn on the cob from the grocery store. Out of season as it is, it was packaged in a colorful pre-printed cardboard tray with a message in a playful font  printed on one side. Remove, Heat, and Eat! it directed, implying the amazing convenience of the product.

Uh?

Yah.

It's corn.

Thursday, October 31, 2019

She's Back

"How were the kids today?" a colleague asked me on my first day back to school in 3 1/2 weeks.

I considered my answer. They were happy to see me-- the pleasure and relief on their faces was genuine. And I felt lucky to return on Halloween, a day when it was easy to deflect any conversation. Not surprisingly, their writing pieces seemed a little unformed, but that may have been the case even if I had been there. What stuck out to me most was the casual disregard for rules and procedures I know I clearly explained.

"They were sweet, but definitely a little untamed," I answered truthfully.

She nodded.

"But that's going to change in a hurry!" I added.

Wednesday, October 30, 2019

Here's What I'll Say

If people ask me how I'm doing:

I'm glad to be back.

Even though it doesn't feel like it will be true.

Tuesday, October 29, 2019

According to Paul

Traveling home alone today after three weeks in Minnesota, I wanted a window seat, but all they had was the aisle, even when I double-checked at the airport. I wondered if, for some reason, I was meant to try an outside seat for a change, and I fought my bitter disappointment all the way down the jetway.

Arriving at 12D, I first noted that there was no window on the row, and I was also a bit relieved not to have to inconvenience the guy already sitting in the middle seat. "Don't get too comfortable," he reminded me as I fastened my seatbelt, "we're going to have to get up." A few minutes later we did just that to allow another guy to take his windowless seat.

"Hi, I'm Paul," said the first guy to the second.

"I'm Paul, too," the other man answered and they shook hands.

I didn't have to guess what was going to happen next.

"We're both Paul," the middle guy said to me.

"I heard," I told him. "That's easy to remember."

"What about you?"

"I'm Tracey."

"What do you do, Tracey?" he continued.

"I'm a teacher," I told him.

"I'm a southern boy," he laughed. "I hope you won't correct my grammar."

"I won't," I said, "I'll just silently judge you. But it won't be too bad-- I teach in Virginia."

"What brings you here?" he asked.

And that was a question I didn't expect. "My mom passed away last week," I answered, because I wasn't prepared to say anything else.

He grabbed my hand in his. "I'm so sorry," he said.

"Thank you," I said automatically, as I have many, many times in the last 8 days.

"I can tell you are just wrecked," he said.

"How?" I asked.

"Your eyes are so sad," he answered. "Losing my mom was the hardest thing I have ever been through," he continued, his eyes welling up. "I will keep you and your family in my prayers." And he gave my hand a squeeze. "Find a good movie to watch," he advised, and left me alone for the rest of the flight.

Monday, October 28, 2019

Morning Will Come; It Has No Choice

At this moment, I am all alone in my mother's apartment for the first time ever. All of our guests have gone, my sister and her family flew out this evening, Heidi, Emily and the boys are thrift shopping with Aunt Harriett and Larry, and Bill has stepped out.

How strange it is!

As my mother grew weaker my brother and sister and I contracted, swaddling her in the tightest wrapping of our love and attention that we could. When she died, we stayed bound together in our grief. But now we are unraveling because we must, each of us obligated to return to our lives--

wishing it wasn't so, knowing it is for the best. 

The Eve

You all were so kind to invite 25 people over for dinner on the night before your mom's funeral seemed to be the prevailing sentiment as our guests wished us good night. But I don't think we would have had it any other way. A gathering of friends and family from out of town and my mom's family of friends from here was a warm way to spend our last evening all together.

Plus, knowing that the house would start filling at 4 PM gave us a deadline to tie up all the loose ends for the funeral in the morning. And so, eulogy written, slideshow complete, gifts chosen and packed, picture printed and framed, bellies full of pizza and chocolate cake, and kitchen cleaned, we have all turned in to get some rest for what will be a very difficult day.

Saturday, October 26, 2019

Maybe So

"Will you send me a sign?" my aunt asked my mother as she held her hand in the hospital.

"Yes," my mom answered without hesitation.

"Can you tell me what it will be?" her sister asked.

"You'll know it when you see it," Mom said.

And it seems to be true. A few hours after my mom died we saw three rainbows on our way back to the Twin Cities from Rochester.

"It's the trinity," said my aunt.

"It's one for each of you three kids," someone else told us later.

So, maybe? We have been seeing signs all week. Any silver lining or lucky break feels like a message from my mom telling us we're all going to be all right and she is, too. 

Friday, October 25, 2019

Dressing for the Occasion

"I refused to pack funeral clothes," my sister sighed when I picked her up from the airport on Saturday to take her down to Rochester where my mom was in the hospital.

"Bill doesn't have any either," I told her about my brother who had arrived the day before.

We both teared up because we knew they would need them, and probably much sooner than anyone expected.

As for me, when I had flown out to Minnesota a couple of weeks earlier it was because I was gravely concerned about my mom, but the thought of dressing for a funeral never entered my mind.

And so today, I found myself shopping for just such an outfit. Heidi and my sister went with me, and the three of trolled through several sections in the ladies' department at the Macys across the street from my mom's condo. Our group effort turned up a nice pair of black slacks with a raised velvet pattern and a fitted black sweater with a rhinestone-adorned peter pan collar. It was definitely a departure from my usual look, but as I scrutinized my reflection I nodded at myself in the mirror. "Mom would have liked this outfit," I said. "I'll take it."

Thursday, October 24, 2019

How it Should Have Been

In my former life, I would have been cussing this afternoon because I scheduled a dentist appointment on the day before conferences. It would have seemed like a gigantic headache to manage such conflicting demands upon my time, but walking up to the dentist and then back to school would have cleared my head. By the end of the day I would have been prepared for conferences commencing at 7 AM with sparkling clean teeth.

In my new reality, I placed an order with the caterer for lunch for 100 guests in the church reception hall following my mom's funeral and spent a couple hours putting a slideshow of photos together for the memorial. And in this life, I bought four copies of the local paper because her obituary was published today. And I read the outpour of wonderful comments and remembrances of her on Facebook after we shared the news that we lost her.

On either timeline, I have Heidi by my side, and thank the heavens today I also have my sister and brother and sister-in-law and aunt.

Wednesday, October 23, 2019

More Words, but Never Enough

Beloved mother, sister, grandmother, and friend passed away October 21, 2019.

She is survived by her daughters, Tracey (Heidi) and Courtney (Jordan), her son, Bill (Emily), her sister Harriett (Larry), and her grandchildren Victor, Treat, Richard, and Annabelle.

Born in 1939 to Ada and Frank Riley, Fran grew up in Greenbelt, MD. She was a resident of Bloomington and Edina for the last 25 years, where she pursued a rewarding career in public affairs which allowed her to connect and contribute to the community.

Fran traveled all over the world and loved cooking for her family of friends. In retirement, she continued to serve the community as a volunteer, most notably as a kindergarten reading buddy at Valley View Elementary School, Oasis for Youth, and the Book’em used book sale.

Her family and friends grieve the loss of Fran, but know how lucky we were to have had her in our lives. We will miss her.

There will be a visitation with family on Monday, October 28, at 10 AM at St. Joan of Arc Catholic Church in Minneapolis with a mass to follow at 11 AM. In lieu of flowers, her family asks that donations be made in her name to a charity of your choice, or to one of the causes she supported: Fraser, Oasis for Youth, or St. Joan of Arc Outreach Fund.

Tuesday, October 22, 2019

Four Words

I love you, Mom.

Monday, October 21, 2019

No Words


Sunday, October 20, 2019

Back and Forth Again

This afternoon I made my third run from Rochester to the Minneapolis-St. Paul Airport in as many days. 150 miles round trip on rolling highways through farm fields and prairie, over streams and rivers, and dairy plants and a refinery, the round trip takes about two and a half or three hours. It was worth every minute on the road to get my brother, my sister, and my aunt down here to see my mom in the hospital.

Plus my fondness for both this part of the country and road trips is well-known in the family. "Just think," my brother told my mom today, "when Tracey and Heidi retire to Rochester, Tracey can make a little extra cash running an airport shuttle!"

That got a smile.

Saturday, October 19, 2019

Long-Distance Dining

I was lying on the couch in my mom's hospital ring when my phone chimed with a text: Your dasher is approaching with your order, it read. The delivery guy in question, however, was approaching my front door in Virginia, where Heidi, Emily, Riley, and Treat had gathered and ordered takeout for dinner.

A moment later my phone rang. The dasher? was confused by the house numbers in our complex. "Oh, you're not too far, off," I told him, and gave him a little more precise direction.

It was another Ding! a minute later that assured me the food was there, and dinner was served. Bon Appetite! you guys.

Friday, October 18, 2019

Birds of Prey

In addition to being a world-class health care facility, he Mayo Clinic is home to a Peregrine Falcon nesting box. Early today, I told my brother Bill the story that a friend of my mom's who works here at the clinic told us.

"My office window faces south," he said, and the designers of the building back in the 1950s engineered these clever metal louvres to keep the building from betting too hot in the summer. The only problem is, the falcons like them too, and every so often there are gruesome little bird parts hanging outside my window."

Bill and I looked way up to the top of the Mayo Building. "I guess they're up there," I shrugged. "I'm not sure when and if they migrate."

A little later in my mom's hospital room, Bill walked quickly over to the window and looked up. "I saw two little feathers float down," he said, "but no Falcons are up there."

A little while later after that, he went down to the street level and outside to smoke. Back up here, he reported his own gory little finding: a pair of wings lying on the sidewalk, connected only by sinew and feathers.

I'd guess that means the falcons are still in town.


Thursday, October 17, 2019

Jokey Jokester

I was loaded down with shopping bags and a rotisserie chicken from Costco yesterday when I returned from a few quick errands. Setting down the 12 pack of seltzer water, I fumbled in my pocket for the fob that would admit me to the apartment building. A gray haired guy of about my age waved at me from the lobby, pretended to walk away, and then turned around grinning and pushed open the door.

"I guess I can help you out!" he laughed.

"That's mighty nice of ya!" I said drily.

"Not really," he laughed again. "Where's my payment?"

I jerked my head to the strawberry box balanced in the crook of my arm with the chicken in it. "Do you want a leg or a wing?" I asked.

"Neither!" he answered. "I'm having pizza tonight!"

Wednesday, October 16, 2019

Mirror, Mirror Down the Hall

And... Airbnb #4. I rose early this morning and packed up all the stuff I have accumulated over the last 9 days and hauled it from Apt 228 to Apt 310, down the long hall and up a floor. "At least you know how to work the elevator," my mom said.

The new unit is almost identical with the exception of the full length mirror in the living room that is replaced with a door to a second bedroom with ensuite bath. It's a nice floor plan, but since I'm by myself?

I really miss the mirror.

Tuesday, October 15, 2019

Code Orange

The news we received from the nurse practitioner in charge of my mother's case was not what we hoped, and there seemed no end in sight to the 2 tubes in my mom's nose. When she left the room, we looked at each other and sighed. "I have got to find a way to get that orange juice!" my mom said, breaking the mood with plucky pragmatism.

It was true, she hasn't been able to have anything other than 2 popsicles a day for the last 5 days, and the week before that she was too nauseous to eat. This afternoon when I went to get a quick sandwich for lunch, I spotted a pint of my mom's favorite OJ, and with her next procedure 24 hours away, I added it to my order and brought it upstairs.

And I'm glad I did-- my mom sipped a few satisfying ounces through a straw, with no ill effects. Maybe after 2 weeks in the hospital, it's time to bend a few rules.

Monday, October 14, 2019

Flannel and Fleece

"Thank you for my birthday present," my nephew said on the phone today.

"I didn't give you anything, yet," I laughed. "Sorry! I was thinking of a flannel shirt, though. Your mom told me you don't have one."

He was uncertain what I was talking about, and so my sister and I described what we were talking about.

"If it's soft and cozy," he said, "I'm in!"

I know what he means. Since I've been here in Minnesota with my mom in the hospital, I've bought pajama bottoms, woolen mukluks, a soft sweatshirt, a sweater, and today? Knit slippers with a fleece lining. They offer me a bit of comfort.

And when I hung up, I popped open my laptop and found the perfect, fleece-lined flannel hoodie for my nephew.

Sunday, October 13, 2019

Prisoner of the Mind

I was a little flustered when I checked into my new airbnb this afternoon. To begin with, the instructions were extremely complicated, involving an electronic directory, a lockbox, and a key fob. When at last I had made it into the building, I headed through the lobby and rounded a corner to the elevator.

Boarding the single car by myself, I turned to face the door and pushed the button for the second floor. A moment later, I heard the ding, but the doors did not open. I punched the button again, and heard a faint sliding somewhere, but the stainless in front of me stayed shut tight. Am I really stuck in this elevator? I thought, and problem-solving, I tried the button for the third floor.

The elevator rose, but the same thing happened: ding, a quiet swish, and me looking at immovable doors. I pushed 2 again, and accepting that I was really trapped, I tapped the red SOS button. A recording asked me to state my concern. "I'm stuck in an elevator!" I answered with irritation, and after a pause, a phone, who knows where, began to ring.

Wondering how long I was going to be trapped, I sighed and turned to lean on the wall to my left. It was then I noticed the second set of doors behind me... wide open. "Hello?" a tinny voice hailed me from the speaker on the wall, but I was already halfway down the hall, and on my way out? I took the stairs.

Saturday, October 12, 2019

Location, Location, Location

It was kind of a cold, gray, wet day here, and I spent most of the afternoon in a toasty room, kicking back in a recliner, watching Hallmark movies with my mom as tiny snowflakes drifted from the leaden sky.

If we had been anywhere other than the hospital? It would have been a perfectly delightful Saturday. As it was? It was still pretty decent.

Friday, October 11, 2019

Wait Until Tomorrow

I was upset that my mom was in the hospital, but as I flew west I was kind of looking forward to revisiting Rochester, MN after spending a month here this summer. And on my first day here, the city did not disappoint. In 70 degree temperatures and under classic blue October skies I revisited the lake and other parks we enjoyed in August, now turned from summer green to orange and yellow and red and golden brown. Day two was equally stunning.

But every time I praised the town and the weather to a native, I got the same answer: "Sure, it's nice today... but, wait until tomorrow (or the weekend, or next week)!" I remembered a similar attitude among the folks I met here this summer: whenever I gave Rochester a compliment, they frowned and raised their eyebrows.

Today? Was not a glorious day. We woke in gray light to the quiet tapping of sleet on the window. The temperature was in the 30s and a frigid wind blew everywhere, and gusted bitterly in the canyons between the tall buildings of the Mayo Clinic. Low clouds threatened in a leaden sky, and we did not see even a peek of sunlight all day. On the way to the airport to drop my sister, fat flakes of snow squalled dryly against the windshield.

Did I finally see what they meant? No! I just put on my turtleneck and sweater, zipped up my vest and went about my business. Oh, and I bought a pair of toasty slippers at the HyVee.

Maybe I'll hate it here tomorrow.

Thursday, October 10, 2019

Picky Patron

Even though I mastered the art of iced coffee with limited equipment at our airbnb, we had to extend our stay in Rochester and since that place wasn't available we found ourselves another rental. This one is larger and a little more upscale, and it has ice, but even so it is far from perfect.

First of all there is the creepy basement situation. Remodeled to be some kind of master suite, it features a sitting room with sliding doors to a bedroom which connects to another room that has been outfitted as a walk-in closet. All of them are just a little off, but it is the bathroom that made me walk quickly for the stairs. It, too, is several rooms-- one for the commode, one for the sink, and one which is tiled in the strangest way, finished with and dripping pattern of of stones that look like dark lava or some kind of weird goo. Hanging crookedly from the ceiling is a large rectangular rain shower head. There is no curtain or doors-- it's like a very strange locker room group shower.

Then there are the house rules.. allow me to quote some of the more memorable passages:

We are always supporting HEALTH LIFE STYLE, providing the homy and comfortable and clean living environment to our guests is our forever goal. Therefore, we have few rules will love to share with you first before you decide to book. 
#8. NO SHOES: To ensure we keep the floorboards squeaky clean for our guests’ enjoyment, we have a no shoes policy inside our home.Also it feels better, for us at home, to know that we are not bringing the hospital, into our Zen oasis of calm. But we don't recommend you wear socks inside the house as well, because the wood floor could be very slippery with socks. (Tips: bring an indoor slipper with you could be an good idea if you used to wear shoes inside the house) 
#13. ACCIDENTS HAPPENED: We understand that accidents happen. But we do ask that you please let us know when they do. Chances are we can fix them as effortlessly as possible which also means better chances of having your full security deposit returned too. 
#16. SAVE OUR PLANET: We are a group of folk that really care about the mother nature, we appreciative with whatever the planet provide to us and we are sure you do love her as much as we do. We kindly ask that you switch off lights when its not in use or leaving the house, and use the towels as needed. Every day millions of gallons of water are used to wash towels that have only been used once. Every drop matters. :)
But aside from that? It's fine.

Wednesday, October 9, 2019

Cold and Hard

I thought I was thinking ahead when I ground some of my favorite coffee beans and packed them up with some cone filters for my trip to Minnesota. The plan was supposed to include grabbing one of the small plastic cones I have stashed in my cabinet at school, but in the discombobulation of printing and copying a week's worth of sub plans at 6:45 AM on Monday, I forgot to get it.

No worries, though. After my sister picked me up at the airport, we had to make a stop at my Mom's empty apartment in the Twin Cities before heading down to Rochester. There, I borrowed her coffee cone, and so it was with confidence that I went into the very compact kitchen of our tiny Airbnb yesterday morning to make my customary iced coffee.

And, indeed, all went well until I opened the freezer and found no ice. Oh, I improvised with cold filtered water, but the lukewarm beverage was pretty unsatisfying. On my way back to get a refill, I happened to pick up my Hydroflask, which rattled like a maraca. It still has ice! I realized, and my second cup of the morning was saved.

The water bottle reminded me of how the night before hiking in Maine we used to fill our plastic bottles a third of the way with water and stick them in the freezer. That solid block of ice was enough to keep the water we added the next morning cold all day.

With my next morning in mind, I opened all the cupboards and found three square leftover containers that I filled with an inch of water each and then placed them in the freezer. And this morning? I popped the ice blocks out, put one in a zip lock, wrapped it in a dish towel, and rapped it smartly with a heavy church key can opener. The resulting chards of shattered ice were perfect for icing my coffee.

So there!

Tuesday, October 8, 2019

Make Way for Walkers

I took a little walk over to Silver Lake this morning. The weather was October in all its glory-- blue skies, cool air, and colorful foliage. I confess that I hesitated when I approached a flock of at least 50 geese lining both sides of the trail and even turned the video camera on my phone on them as I walked cautiously on. I guess I just wanted photo evidence of any attack, but luckily it was just a precaution. Not a single bird even lifted its head as I strolled on by. 

Monday, October 7, 2019

Looking for a Happy Ending

I turned on the tiny tv screen in front of me the minute I sat down in my seat on the plane. Scrolling through the list of movies, I was initially captivated by one called Virginia Minnesota, because, hello?That was my itinerary! But it wasn’t as good as it sounded and soon I was paging through my choices again. Somewhere near the middle of the very long list was Morning Glory, a 2010 film starring Rachel McAdams, Harrison Ford, and Diane Keaton. It promised to be the tale of a spunky young morning show producer who tries to turn around failing show. I could tell there would be a few little bumps in the road, but in the end it would all turn out for those three very likable folks. I settled back into my seat, put my headphones on, and tapped play. 

Sunday, October 6, 2019

Let's Talk about You

It was time to get my haircut, and so I walked up to the local place I usually go and took the first available appointment since I don't have a regular stylist. It usually works out for me; I want a pretty simple cut and my hair is generally forgiving. Even if I'm disappointed to begin with, the next day when I do it myself, it looks fine.

Plus, patronizing an economy establishment gives me the freedom to tip well, which I like to do particularly in an industry with primarily minority women workers. What I don't always like is the small talk. Depending on the personality of your stylist, you might sit in 20 minutes of companionable silence, or you may have to spend that time trying to make polite conversation because it seems expected.

Today started out as one of the latter experiences.

"Do you have any children?" the woman asked as she toweled my hair.

"No," I answered, "but I'm a teacher, so I'm around kids all day." I've learned that this response is a good one for politely continuing the conversation.

And then, after she asked me about where, what, and who I teach, I delivered the coup de grace.

"What about you? Do you have any children?"

And it was on! I didn't have to say another word.

Saturday, October 5, 2019

Success at Last!

That little pumpkin kit I got in my stocking?










Well, lookie there!

Friday, October 4, 2019

Never Not Ever

Yesterday, for our food unit we read the book I Will Never Not Ever Eat a Tomato where a boy named Charlie convinces his sister Lola to eat carrots, peas, mashed potatoes, and fish sticks by calling them orange twiglets from Jupiter, green drops from Greenland, cloud fluff from Mt. Fuji, and all the mermaids' favorite, ocean nibbles from the grocery at the bottom of the sea.

Today, the students worked in teams to invent new identities for apples, butternut squash, basil, and cherry tomatoes. They were supposed to use their knowledge of sensory details and figurative language to transform those healthy foods into treats that kids would love to try. To inspire them, I had samples of each so that they could experience them personally.

The results were inventive and entertaining: we ended up with  Saturn slices, butter rocks, Martian gold, sun drops, money sprinkles, baby bouncers, juicy fruit, Martian candy, space jam, warrior nuts, green space octopus, and min-mers (whatever those are!) I'm not sure many kids would want to try many of those foods, but I know a lot of kids who ate their vegetables and did some pretty good collaborative thinking and writing today.

Thursday, October 3, 2019

Clean Plate Club

Another day, another food picture to help students recognize analyzing, evaluating, and synthesizing. The task was to look at a composed bowl of food, decide if you would eat it, and figure out what ingredients you might add or subtract to have it your way.

It was a popular question, and I planned time for any student who was willing share to their ideas. As a cook, I found their replies very interesting. Some chose to replace the shrimp with another protein, some chose to add a second protein. Several eliminated the vegetables, and although avocado is very popular, a couple opted out, and a few others made it into guacamole. One student said she only like avocado on toast. Some kids added rice to make it a rice bowl; some added greens to make it a salad. Other additions were hot sauce, cilantro, cucumbers, and tomatoes.

The funniest answer I got started like this, "First I would get rid of the shrimp and avocado. Then the zucchini, peppers, and corn would have to go."

"You would start from scratch?" I asked.

"Yep," the student said, "after I washed the plate."

Wednesday, October 2, 2019

Have it your Way

I did a quick thinking exercise with my students today. In an effort to explain analysis in a different context, I put a picture of some kind of chili mac casserole up on the screen and posed the question, Would you eat this? Whether the answer was yes or no, I knew that when asked why, they would point to ingredients they recognized in the picture.

"That's analysis!" I explained. "You are breaking something down into its parts to see what it's made of!"

My follow up question was, What would you add or take out to make it a better meal? 

More cheese! Less tomato! No peppers! More peppers! Gluten-free macaroni!

"That's evaluation and synthesis!" I told them. "Writers do that, too!"

Perhaps the analogy was a bit abstract, but I'll keep working on it. Oh, and anecdotally? All the classes before lunch loved the picture! After lunch? They were quite a bit more critical.

Tuesday, October 1, 2019

Advice from the Coach

The quote of the day today was also the theme of the story we read. What to do with a mistake: recognize it, admit it, learn from it, forget it. ~ Dean Smith.

And all day long? The lesson was relevant.

"I couldn't write last night because..." a student would say.

"Recognize it, admit it, learn from it, forget it," I'd answer. "Are you going to write tonight?"

"I don't have my writing notebook. It's just..." another kid would start.

"Are you going to bring it tomorrow?" I asked.

And when they nodded, "Recognize it, admit it, learn from it, forget it," I'd reply.

"Are you doing your assignment?" I'd ask, and the guilty look was all the answer I needed.

Even so, most kids (heck! most people!) feel compelled to make an excuse. "Recognize it, admit it, learn from it, forget it," I'd tell them and move on.

And so it went. "We should get posters of that!" one of my co-teachers said.

Hmmm.

Monday, September 30, 2019

sk sk sk and i oop

"Are you a visco girl?" one of the students in my small intervention group asked the other day.

"What's that?" I asked. "How do you spell it?"

"V-S-C-O." She laughed. "It's from TikTok-- You have a Hydro Flask, you wear Vans, you have an Apple watch, an iPhone, you like Starbucks and you have a reusable straw... That's VSCO girl. You just need a big t-shirt, some friendship bracelets, a scrunchie, and some lip balm."

"And want to save the turtles," her friend added.

"Wow!" I said, "that totally could be me! But I think I'm probably more of a VSCO Lady."


Sunday, September 29, 2019

Too Cool for School

The poster at the craft fair of Dick and Jane running with scissors and captioned, We do bad things because we are bad children. And we like it! made us giggle, so much so, that Heidi purchased the small, hand-sized magnet version of it.

As she paid, the artist chatted her up a bit. "I'm so glad you like it," she said.

"Oh my god!" Heidi replied. "It's hilarious!"

"Thanks," the artist shrugged.

"In fact," Heidi continued, "I'm a teacher, and I just might put this in my classroom."

"Oh," said the artist, wide-eyed, "well." She handed the bag to Heidi. "Just don't get fired!"

Saturday, September 28, 2019

Can We Agree on This, at Least?

The times they are divisive! It seems like no one can understand how the people they disagree with could possibly be motivated by anything other than self-interest and fear. Personally, I find not only the current political events stressful, but even the conversation is draining. So much so that I have had to turn off the radio on more than one occasion this week. 

And once I realized that there are actually people who think that what the president did is defensible, I have also avoided reading most of the op-eds out there. Most, but not all. I thoroughly enjoyed the director of the Harvard Writing Center, Jane Rosenzweig's piece in the NY Times called The Whistle-Blower Knows How to Write, especially the two penultimate paragraphs:
Every semester, I encounter students who tell me variously that they hate writing, that they’d rather not write, that for the careers they aspire to they won’t need to write. I explain that no matter what careers they choose, they will have to write — reports, strategic plans, proposals and, if nothing else, many, many emails. 
But I also tell them that learning to write matters because some day they may have something to say that really matters to them and possibly to the world — and they will want to convey it when the moment arrives in writing that’s clear and concise.
Amen!