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.

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.

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.

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.

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. 

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."

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.

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.

Four Words

I love you, Mom.

No Words

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.

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.

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.

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!"

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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!

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. 

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. 

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.

Success at Last!

That little pumpkin kit I got in my stocking?

Well, lookie there!

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.

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."

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.

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.