That Side

As I went walking, I saw a sign there 
And on the sign it said “No Trespassing.” 
But on the other side, it didn't say nothing, 

That side was made for you and me.

~Woody Guthrie

This Land Is Made for You and Me

I had reached the end of the short beach when I heard a raucous avian clamor coming from the inlet on the other side of the scrubby stand of pines. Hoping it was a flock of migrating Arctic Swans, I followed a wide path into the woods only to hit a chainlink fence topped with barbed wire a short way in. Confused, I bushwacked a bit to see if I could find a view of the birds, but the leafless thorns of Greenbriar that lined the way held me at bay. 

On the other side of the fence, I could see a road, and, sure it was the same one we had followed to get to our rented beach house, I turned left on a deer trail and continued until the fence ended and I had access to the road. It was then I saw the signs. Private Property, they proclaimed. No trespassing, hunting, or fishing. Violators will be prosecuted. 

I realized that all along the fence had been keeping me in, not out, in the interest of discouraging those prospective trespassers. So enlightened, I followed the road to where I could finally see the wetlands, but by then, the birds were gone.

Youthful Optimism

I ran into a former student and one of his buddies while walking the dog the other day. I spotted the duo from afar; they were climbing the steps to a porch and knocking on the door. I watched as they spoke to whoever answered and saw their shoulders slump slightly as they retraced their steps and started down the sidewalk towards me, pulling a heavy wagon behind them. I waved as they approached, and they greeted me with huge smiles.

"Whatcha up to?" I asked, pointing at the wagon, which I could now see was loaded with a hose, buckets, sponges, and rags.

"We're trying to do car washes to earn some money," my student told me.

"To buy pit bikes," his friend added.

"That's very enterprising!" I said. "How much are you charging?"

"Twenty-five," they told me together.

"How much are the bikes?" I asked.

"A thousand twenty-five," the other kid said, and my student sighed.

"Each?" I clarified, and when they nodded, my eyes grew wide. "That's 82 car washes!" I tried not to sound too discouraging, but it seemed pretty daunting to me. "How many have you done?"

"None," he reported.

"But we just started," his friend shrugged confidently.

"Well," I said, "I better let you get back to it. Good luck!"

"Thanks!" they replied and rolled their wagon on down the hill.

Resist the Invasion

I noticed her right away.

The woman was blond, in her late 40s, and looked for all the world like a former neighbor, but she was also standing in a patch of brambles with a ratty ball cap and frayed backpack, scanning the ground in an unexpected way. I decided to avoid eye contact and walk on by with Lucy.

"Tracey?" she said, and I stopped and turned around.

"I thought that might be you!" I said, "But then I also thought, Why would she be doing that?" I laughed, and she did, too.

"I'm looking for evil, invasive honeysuckle," she told me, "so I can cut it down and yank it out!"

"That sounds therapeutic," I commented. "Especially in these fraught times."

"Oh, it is," she answered. "It really, really is."

Impressions

When Mary introduced me to her first class yesterday a hand shot up in the front of the room. She nodded at the boy to let him know she saw him but didn't stop speaking. His hand waved and he made intense eye contact with me until she reached a point where she paused and called on him. "You taught my mom and my uncles!" he said breathlessly.

"I did?" I replied. "What's your mom's name?" 

"Farhana," he told me, and I laughed and told him the names of his uncles. 

"Do your grandparents still live on Barton Street?" I asked, and he said they did.

"How did you even know she taught your mom?" Mary asked logically since I haven't worked at the school since he's been there.

"They just told me about her," he said.

In contrast, this morning Mary texted me from her all-day meeting. "Did you teach M-- H--?" she asked. "She's my sub today."

"I did!" I replied, trying to calculate how long ago it had been. "She must be pretty young."

"She looked young, although she said she was here a long time ago. She only remembered P-- A-- so that wasn't all that long ago."

As it turns out, she was in sixth grade 12 years ago, which is half her life, so understandably seems long to her. But? She didn't even remember me!

Service Teaching

My friend Mary asked if I would be willing to come to school as a volunteer and help coach the young writers in her class as they work on their children's book projects, and I happily agreed. The assignment was one I am well-acquainted with, having developed and taught it with my sixth-grade CLT over the last 5 or 6 years, and I was eager to see how the new historical fiction spin they added this year was working. 

This morning, I stationed myself at a table in the back of Mary's room, and she explained to each class who I was and what I was there to do. Business was slow at first, but Mary sent a few kids my way and then asked them for reviews of the experience, which were positive and encouraged a few other students to give it a try.

The conferences were set up so that I could see their work in progress on my laptop as we talked, and I asked clarifying questions and made suggestions in real-time as they sat next to me and wrote. To me, the meetings seemed helpful and productive, and they were fun, too. 

"Awesome!" I answered when anyone asked how it was going. "It's like a dream job-- I just get to listen to kids tell me about their ideas and writing and make some suggestions, and then they say, "Thank you!" and it's on to the next kid. No planning, no discipline, no grading, just straight-up teaching."

"It really is the best part," noted Mary. "You're welcome."

What Are We, 12?

A group of friends organized a game night this weekend at 6 PM on Saturday. On the text chain, someone offered to bring pizza, and I said I'd bake a cake since there was a birthday to celebrate, too.

Who knew that would be all we had for dinner?

The games were fun, though.

I Think I'll Pass

I received an email this afternoon from the job site where I'm enrolled informing me of all sorts of opportunities with the federal government.

Ummmm. Really?

Impervious

You know it's cold when the cat runs into the living room because she hears the fireplace screen move. And it has been cold, almost dauntingly so. But I remembered something I learned when I was in college in Upstate New York. 

I didn't have a car until I was a senior, so I walked everywhere. There were days when it was so cold I could feel the hair in my nose crisp up a bit when I took my first breath outside on my way to class. I also recall being able to walk on the snow because it had a thick top layer that was frozen solid, which was helpful since I liked to cut across the field hockey pitch if I was running late. 

But what I didn't do was lower my head and hunch my shoulders against the cold. That just made it worse! Instead, I threw my shoulders back and strode purposefully in the direction I needed to go. After all? It was just a little cold weather.

And I've found that strategy still works 40-something years later.

But a fire sure is nice, too.

My Two Cents (While We Still Have Pennies)

An old friend messaged me the other night.

I’ve been thinking about you guys, and wondering how you are doing in retirement. Me, I’m working on something I’m excited about and I figure 5 more years, which makes sense financially. Does retirement make all the political crap any easier to take, or does it just give you more time to worry about stuff? 

I considered her question and replied.

I don't feel like retirement has had much of an impact on my response to the current political situation. I try to limit my exposure to the news and use the extra time I have to do other things.  

Even so, retirement has been a big adjustment for me. It's taken months to decompress after decades of teaching, and I'm not quite there yet. I didn't recognize what a huge change it would be, and I haven't quite found my new normal yet. I'm glad that you have work you find fulfilling, and I hope it's also manageable in terms of time and energy. If so, there's no reason to retire! 

Meta Data

 Suggested for you, read the banner, and a young, bearded man smiled beneath. I confess: I was scrolling through a social media account, even though I have better things to do. But I did not recognize the person in the photo or his name, and stranger still, we had no "friends" in common. 

Who is this guy? I thought as I tapped the name. There, I saw him showing off his Eagle Scout project, graduating from the University of Buffalo, and hiking with a young woman. It finally dawned on me that he was one of my neighbors across the way. I have spoken to him a few times, but our paths rarely cross.

I barely know him, but social media thinks I should. And hmmmm. How might it know that?

The Sound it Made

In all the wind the other evening, a tree fell in the woods, and loads of people heard it, mainly because it smashed the trash enclosure across the way and knocked the top off one of the light posts. It also blocked the road that loops around our complex, and since it was Sunday of a three-day weekend, we had little hope that it would be resolved any time soon.

But we were wrong. The landscaping company came out right away and set up emergency lights so that they could reopen the road. Then, they were back the next morning to finish the job and remove all the debris. The garbage enclosure still needs repair, but our trash removal folks set up all the bins neatly on the concrete pad, so the collection process is still functioning. 

Everything worked exactly as it was supposed to, and I wish I wasn't so surprised. I am grateful, though.

Mimesis

Every year, I look forward to seeing the Oscar-nominated short films (and most years, I write a thing or two about them, as well- check out the label at the end of this post to see the archive). At any rate, this was the weekend we went to those cinematic anthologies, and as in years past, we saw a reflection of the world's woes. But this year, the angst was rife throughout both the animated and the live-action films; they were ten short movies about worry and stress, and only a couple had clearly uplifting resolutions. The others were ambiguous at best, and I left the theaters feeling a little deflated.

I didn't think I needed a happy ending to enjoy a movie, but maybe these days? I do.

Hooo's There?

The crows in the woods woke me up at 2 am a couple nights ago. The next morning I remembered the ruckus as if it were a dream, but knowing it was real I searched the internet for reasons that might rouse an enormous murder of crows in the middle of the night. Most suggested the presence of a predator as the most likely scenario, but I couldn't picture it.

Later, I heard a piece on the radio about young birdwatchers and a guide showing some middle school kids around the woods. They were searching for owls. "Just look for a football shape in the trees," he advised, "something that looks a little different." Of course, by the end of the story, the group had spotted a barred owl.

That afternoon, while walking Lucy, I noticed how the sunlight silhouetted the trees so starkly against the blue winter sky. It was beautiful, and I remembered the radio piece from that morning. I had never seen an owl in the wild before, and I wondered if it was because I had never looked. Hundreds of trees were visible from where I stood, and I scanned their boughs eagerly. A football shape presented itself immediately on a branch not far away. Could it really be that easy? I thought, but squinting for closer inspection, I saw it was really just a fat squirrel.

The rest of the walk had the quality of beachcombing but with my neck craned up instead of down. There seemed to be just as many branches as bits of shell on a beach, and who knew what treasure was waiting to be spotted? 

I didn't see an owl, but when I got home, I did a little research and found that one telltale sign may be white spatters on the trunk below where the owl roosts. I grabbed my binoculars and stepped out on the deck to scan the trees in the woods. Wondering if it might have been an owl that disturbed the crows the night before, I hoped my chances were good. Across the parking lot, I spotted splashes of white about two-thirds of the way up a pine tree, but the foliage was too dense for me to get a good look, and my compact binoculars were frustratingly shaky.

The most sensible solution seemed to be to order a better pair of binoculars, which I did, along with a rig to help take photos with my phone. Those were delivered yesterday, and although the view through the binoculars is breathtakingly clear, I can't get them to work with my phone. And I still haven't seen an owl.

But I might! Because? Now I'm looking.

Oh Oh 1979

Regular readers may recall that, in my opinion, one of the best things about a Saturday morning road trip is listening to vintage versions of American Top 40 with Casey Kasem from the 1970s. So, my first question to my sister when she texted this morning and mentioned that she and her husband were on their way to visit my nephew at college for the day, was are you listening to AT40?

They were not, but I quickly dialed the show up on my phone to see what year was airing. "It's 1979," I coaxed, "they're playing Poco."

"What song?" she texted back. "Hold the Line?"

"That's Toto," I replied. 

She sent a crying laughing emoji and we signed off. 

Even so, I continued to listen and laughed out loud when "Hold the Line" came on three songs later.

Have You Heard?

I saw a passing reference on social media to "8D sound" and, curious, did a little research. Some sources claim that all those sound channels can expand your brain in miraculous ways, and so I had to get a listen for myself. It had been a while since I had used my AirPods, though, so first, I had to charge them. 

Then, when I fit them in my ears, I got a notification on my phone that they had been updated, and not only could I customize them to my ears, I could also take a hearing test and then use them as hearing aids if necessary. The 8D sound had to wait another five minutes while I did the screening. My results were heartening: 11 dBHL in the left and 13 in the right, which, according to the health app,  indicates little to no hearing loss. 

With that knowledge, it was on to the 8D audio! I found that there was a mixture of binaural beats, instrumental, and cover songs available, and tapping a track at random, I was immediately arrested by the sound. I actually felt surrounded by the music, and all the sounds were clear and balanced. It was remarkable.

 A little further investigation revealed that this technology isn't really all that new. The combination of equalization and panning techniques has been around in some form since the 1970s. In the last 5 years or so, though, its purported effect on people with neurodivergent brains has gotten much attention on social media, notably TikTok. That attention has encouraged artists to include more 8D production on their tracks.

As I browsed, I found playlists going several years back filled with familiar songs by artists I certainly knew, and listening to clips from those with my Air Pods, I recognized the grand production value. I guess I just never noticed before. 

I returned to my hearing test results and the accompanying chart. There, I could see that I have more trouble hearing higher sounds, which I know is common as you age. I also saw that my hearing is good, but not excellent, and that smarted a little. But what could I do? Nothing, but tap play and listen to a little more superb audio.

Take Note

Heidi was hoping to have Valentine's Day pencils to give to her students, but we haven't been able to find any this year despite looking in the usual places. Even so, when I told her I needed to make a quick stop at the grocery store this afternoon, she chose to tag along and asked if we could give that pencil hunt one more go.

The grocery store should have tipped us off. Is it possible that I have never been shopping on Valentine's Day Eve? It must be so because I was unprepared for the crowds we encountered.

The produce section was stuffed with extra floral displays, including a makeshift custom arrangement pop-up. Every other endcap had holiday-themed candy, cookies, or cupcakes, and every shopper had some Valentine's Day item in their possession. Meanwhile, the Valentine's Day proper display was wiped out. Gone were the cards and trinkets that children buy in sets of 20 for the kids in their classes. There were also no pencils.

Undeterred, we decided to check out the dollar store across the way. Oh my! First, there was zero parking, so I let Heidi out, and as I circled the lot, I saw a steady flow of folks carrying shopping bags with all manner of pink and red poking out the top, as well as many people trying to manage huge balloon bouquets as they made their ways to their cars through the gusty wind. 

When, at last, I found a space and made my way into the store, I found chaos: children running and pushing down aisles lined with empty shelves and a line for the registers that ran all the way to the back of the place. But there were no pencils.

"They probably haven't made pencils since 2020," I laughed once we were back to the car. "It's taken this long to exhaust the existing supply, but somebody somewhere made the call that handwritten work was dead." I was only half kidding.

"Schools need pencils," Heidi scoffed.

"I'm sure someone will recognize that," I agreed. "But by then, there will be a tariff on them. No more cheap pencils for you!"

Boom and Bust

We got near the maximum amount of snow predicted for the storm overnight, and it was beautiful. A proverbial blanket of white covered the ground, and all the trees were flocked with heavy dollops of snow. School was out, but it was quiet around here, and the snow remained undisturbed for most of the day, even as the temperatures warmed above freezing and the roads were cleared.

Then, just as was also predicted, as night fell, so did the rain. What a difference a few degrees makes! A little colder, and we might have had one of those back-to-back blizzards that February is famous for around here. As it is, the rain is supposed to continue through the night, washing away all the snow, and schools are even opening on time.

Happy Honing

One of my errands today involved a little self-care, but not in the traditional way you might think. My treat for myself was to have all my kitchen knives sharpened while I waited.

Yes! Ten knives while I waited. This new machine uses a laser scan and industrial grinders to restore a burr-free beveled edge to the knife blade with almost no material loss. Each knife takes 90 seconds or less, and it's all housed in a big, plexiglass cube, so you can watch the process as it happens. And? The machine was located at a hardware store about 3 miles from my house.

I am so excited to use them! Any cook will tell you what a great pleasure working with a sharp knife is. And now I have ten! Plus, I know just what to do when they lose their edge again. 

A Little M.O. for Trying Times

Some words of Mary Oliver ran through my mind as I walked Lucy today: 

Instructions for Living a Life

Pat attention.
Be astonished.
Tell about it.

I think that's basically what I've been trying to do with this blog for the last 16 years, although lately, the astonishment piece has not been as positive as I like. So, as I walked, I remembered another Oliver poem, one that is almost like a prayer to me. In fact, it would be a good idea to say this every night before going to sleep or every morning before rising.

When I am Among the Trees 

Mary Oliver 

When I am among the trees, 

especially the willows and the honey locust, 

equally the beech, the oaks and the pines, 

they give off such hints of gladness. 

I would almost say that they save me, and daily. 

I am so distant from the hope of myself, 

in which I have goodness, and discernment, 

and never hurry through the world 

but walk slowly, and bow often. 

Around me the trees stir in their leaves 

and call out, “Stay awhile.” 

The light flows from their branches. 

And they call again, “It's simple,” they say, 

“and you too have come 

into the world to do this, to go easy, to be filled with light, 

and to shine.”

Jigsaw Puzzle as Metaphor

 

The outside edges are there, but the center just seems so hard to connect.

Mixed Review

In an effort to see most of the movies nominated for major awards at the Oscars this year, we watched The Substance with Demi Moore last night. At the age of 62, Moore has received her first nomination for the horror film which explores female aging and body image in general and in Hollywood.

I've always liked Demi Moore; she and I are the same age, and I think I've seen most of her movies, definitely her early ones. I thought back then that she was a generally underrated member of the Brat Pack, and I especially loved her in Ghost, but also in The Seventh Sign. 

I do not, however, like horror movies, especially contemporary specimens of the genre. I just don't care for the mandatory and, in my opinion, often gratuitous violence and blood. But even before the picture was nominated, I had heard and read a lot about it; most of the coverage focused on the social issue and Moore's unflinching performance. 

And those things were definitely there, but I just can't say I liked the movie.

On Brand

I noticed a billing issue with my Disney+ account, so I turned to the chat feature on the website for assistance. There, I was paired with an agent named Irene, who promised to get to the bottom of the situation. 

Here's the next part of our conversation:

Despite the mixed message, Irene resolved the issue a short while later. And I was grateful for her help.

Please Proofread for Meaning

I jumped when I saw it. Walking Lucy through the green spaces around and between the adjoining complexes of the neighborhood, we came upon a dead crow. At first, I simply pulled Lucy away from it, but as we continued on, I thought about how few dead crows we see, considering how many living ones gather in all the trees of the neighborhood all winter long. 

Then I thought of avian flu. I have been following the details of the disease loosely, but I know it is on the rise. The virus can pass between species, and so egg prices are skyrocketing, there have been several reports of contaminated milk, and some cats recently died after eating raw food made from infected chickens. 

I decided to report the crow to Animal Control in case they are testing for the virus, and I found a form on their website to report concerns. Thank you, my screen read once I had submitted. You will hear from us within 48 hours.

And I did. Today, I received the following reply:

Subject: Crow Concerned 

Hello, 

We received your email regarding the deceased crow found near the Windgate Condominium. We're currently not collecting any dead crows for testing. We are only picking up deceased animals that are considered rabies vectors. As precocious, for any deceased animal, do not touch it with your bare hands when disposed of. Thank you for contacting us.

I get it. Avian flu isn't a big thing, and I'm actually glad.

However, I must also point out that this flawed correspondence would not be considered worthy of a Mystery Shopper.

The Mystery Shopper

Here’s how to make money with a side gig and how long it will take to see the extra income was the subtitle of the article link I received in my email this morning. Despite appearances, the site was legit, and one of the suggestions was to become a "mystery shopper" for one of the several companies that employ such independent contractors.

My interest? Was piqued, and I spent an hour or so completing the orientation slideshow and taking the subsequent quiz just to see what the job entails. After acing the material, I was "hired" on the spot, but I found that, somewhat unexpectedly, every assignment comes with its own extensive set of directions and a quiz. There was also a lot of emphasis on making sure the reports are correctly written with specific examples and details, as well as submitted in a timely fashion. It actually warmed my English teacher's heart a bit.

It seems like shoppers can earn between 10 and 20 bucks a pop, although some gigs require you to buy merchandise that you can be reimbursed for (as long as it is below $10.00, unless you get permission to spend extra from the company contact for the job). 

For example, one nearby opportunity that is currently available involves going to an athletic shoe store, waiting for a salesperson to approach you, and then asking for a recommendation for a specific pair of shoes. The shoes are up to you, but there were suggestions such as I need some pickleball shoes, I want to run a marathon, but I pronate, or Do you have the shoes Taylor Swift was wearing at the Chief's game? 

Then, you had to try the shoes on, buy them, and return them the next day, all the while evaluating the store and the employee according to a detailed set of criteria that you can NEVER bring onto the actual premises with you. If you successfully complete that task, you will be paid 18 bucks.

But, as amusing as I found all the complicated directions and as good as I was at the tests, I just couldn't see myself actually doing the job.

Ai Yai Yai

I updated my laptop this afternoon to the latest version of Apple OS. When at last, after it restarted several times, I was able to access the machine, I got a message about the new AI (that's Apple Intelligence) features I *could* use. "Create fun, original images in seconds with Image Playground," one notification encouraged me, and then helpfully launched the app.

I had the option of describing anything I wanted to in words and then seeing the image generated or starting with a photo. I tried the first way but was disappointed in the white cat with devil horns I requested. (Yes, I was inspired by that naughty Tibby, who happened to be sitting on the table.) Even when I refined the description to have both ears and horns, the app just gave me the image of a white cat with a tiny, not-so-very-demonic mohawk.

Perhaps I should have exited then, but curiosity made me click on the photo option, where I chose one of the many selfies in my camera roll and was presented with an eerie artificial version of myself. I made her hair a bit lighter and then gave her a flannel shirt, but she was still a bit off. 

She sure is smiley, though!

You're Going to Do that Right Here?

It's been a while since I've spent any significant amount of time at a public library. Back when I was teaching, there was a library right down the hall, complete with interlibrary loan. Besides that, most books are available digitally, which is a quick and easy way to get them. But today was the day this month for our cleaning lady to come, and even though my grocery shopping was finished, she was still working, so I headed down to the library to hang out for a bit.

I found an empty table complete with a plug to charge my laptop if necessary and sat down to read the news online. Then, after checking the door cam and seeing Estela was still working, I checked my email and did a few word puzzles, then stretched my legs and looked over to the fiction section. Just then, a guy in his mid-thirties sat down across from me and started unpacking a bag of takeout. 

My eyes grew wide-- how could this be allowed? I surreptitiously glanced toward the two staff members at their counter. They seemed completely unperturbed by this display of, ahem, EATING in the LIBRARY! Clearly, things had changed in the time I had been away. 

I wasn't quite sure how I felt about these new policies, plus the smell of the burger and the sound of my tablemate's chewing was rather distracting. I checked my phone again. There was Estela, heading for her car, so I packed up my things and left the cafeteria, I mean the library.

Best Guess

Remembering that today was February 2, I checked the Groundhog report when I got up this morning, but as so often happens, Google's use of AI to generate answers proved inaccurate and confusing. "There will be six more weeks of winter," it proclaimed confidently, "because the groundhog did not see his shadow." (The highlighting was theirs.) 

I scratched my chin and investigated further. Turns out, Punxsutawney Phil did indeed see his shadow (highlighting mine), and so tradition has it that there will be six more weeks of winter. I also discovered that in the 135 years that we have turned to the groundhog on this day, he has seen his shadow 85% of the time, and his rate of accuracy is only about 35%.

The experience reminded me of an anecdote my nephew tells about the time one of the 8th graders he was working with was convinced that Abraham Lincoln owned slaves. To prove her assertion, she Googled the question and then flipped her iPad around to show him the AI-generated reply that, yes, Lincoln was a slave owner.

"Did you check the sources for that answer?" he asked.

"No!" she told him. "That's too much work!"

To the search engine's credit, I could not replicate either of those inaccuracies when I repeated both queries a moment ago, so there is some system at work within the system to right its wrongs. 

And, as galling as AI can be, it's gotta be more accurate than the groundhog.

February Evening

 

At the end of our walk late this afternoon, the sun had just set, and the air was cold and still. We could see crows gathering by the hundreds in the bare branches of the trees on the hill, and a new crescent moon hung low in the sky with Venus just beyond. I caught my breath and stood still.

And then I fumbled with my phone to capture the moment.

But I couldn't quite do it.