Kick 'em to the Moon

My niece Annabelle loves to sing. She comes by it honestly-- her grandmother pretty much has a song for every occasion.  My mom has been teaching us songs about every holiday, this river, that town, the moon, the flag, camp, you name it, for as long as I can remember. She even taught us cheers when we were little from her high school days, so it was with a great sense of familiarity that I chimed in with Annabelle yesterday in the car as she shared one of the cheers she learned in camp this summer:

California oranges, Texas Cactus, Annabelle started.
We think your team needs a little practice! I joined in with gusto.

But it was when she started singing What a Wonderful World a few minutes later that my ears really perked up. "I can play that one on the ukulele!" I told her. And so this morning, I did, and it was magnificently awful to hear a five-year-old belting out that Louis Armstrong classic with her novice ukulele-playing aunt strumming along.

So what? Go ahead-- put us in a high chair and feed us with a spoon.

Summer Equation

656 miles
13 hours
a basket of peaches
a fried green tomato BLT +
two helpings of green beans
a squashed penny on the train tracks
Richard and Annabelle for 10 days
___________________________________
Lookin good, July!

Trust but Verify

Yes, the title of this post quotes Ronald Reagan, a man not too ideologically similar to myself. Or at least I thought so at 18 when I first voted and voted against him. I did him the same courtesy in 1984, but I was outvoted by my fellow citizens again that year.

When you're young, well, okay, when I was young, everything seemed much more absolute, particularly right and wrong. Reagan was wrong, and I was right. Back then I developed an affinity for the liberal press, particularly the New York Times and NPR. How gratifying it was to read and listen, especially since it seemed like they reported just what I was thinking.

To this day, I love them both, but I am no longer their yes lady. It's to the point where I swear NPR is more conservative than I am, especially their big-data lovin' ways. Perhaps it started with the 2008 election and the giddy infatuation with Barack Obama. Regardless, it continues with their mindless reporting on education, particularly standardized tests and national standards.

Maybe it's because it's taken some time, but I do feel like I have some first-hand knowledge and perhaps even expertise on some of the things they are reporting, particularly education. Such a perspective makes me much more critical of what I'm hearing and reading.

Just yesterday, I listened to an interview with fireworks expert, John Conkling. It seems that true blue is the holy grail of fire crackers, and you can tell the caliber of the show you are seeing by the intensity and brightness of the blue. At the end of the piece Conkling is asked whether the average person would be able to tell if the blue was true.

"Well, it's something that people who have really been involved with fireworks look for when they watch a show. But for the average person watching our Fourth of July show, the other colors that are out there, the patterns they produce, the effects they shoot up in the air, the timing, it just is so overwhelming that there - I think very few people who leave the show saying, boy, I wish I'd really seen a good blue," he says.

And that's how it is with press coverage; if you don't know what you're looking for, it all seems like a really good show.

Let Freedom Ring

A riddle:

Q: Do they have the fourth of July in England?
A: Yes, but it's not  holiday.

Oh, America, you're so funny.

Happy Birthday.

First Do No Harm

We had our cat at the vet today and were waiting in the exam room when a short knock came at the door. A young woman in scrubs entered, and I knew from experience that this was the vet tech who would do the preliminary questions and exam. She introduced herself as Tatiana, and looking at her face, I knew I knew her. "Did you got to [and here I named my school]?" I asked.

She nodded briefly. "Yes I did."

"Do you remember me? I was your English teacher."

Over the years I have run into many, many former students, and usually they are friendly, or at least seem glad that I remember them. Not so with Tatiana. "Mmm hmm," she said and turned her attention to Heidi, "What seems to be the problem here?"

And that was it. She only spoke to Heidi for the rest of the visit. Afterwards, I thought and thought about what I might have done to get such a reaction from her, but I couldn't remember anything out of the ordinary. I do know that over the years, I've become a much nicer teacher; I've learned that you can have good classroom management and still be kind and empathetic. In fact those qualities help.

So, whatever it was, I'm sorry, Tatiana. I hope I'm a better teacher, now.

You Say Restaurant, I Say...

Recently I heard a discussion about local zoning laws on the radio. The guests were on opposite sides of the issue as to whether there should be a moratorium on liquor licenses in their neighborhood. Their disagreement was civil, and as things like that go, not very good radio.

They did, however, make the distinction between restaurants, bars, night clubs, and taverns clear. It was a difference I had never considered, and one I have been thinking about since. Any of those establishments might have a liquor license. For a bar, it wouldn't make sense not to have one, because that is a place that serves alcoholic beverages. A tavern, too, serves booze, but they must also serve food; sometimes their menu is limited, sometimes not. A restaurant must make the major percentage of its income from food sales, even if they sell beer, wine, and/or liquor, and a night club offers entertainment to its patrons, with or without serving alcohol.

The other night, we went out for dinner at a place which I knew to have a full bar, but which also had an extensive menu. As we waited to be seated, a plaque I'd never noticed before caught my eye. It quoted no one less than Patrick Henry as saying, "The Tavern is the cradle of American Liberty."

Hmm. Maybe it is, I thought... but wait! Does that mean this place is a tavern? I think it just might be! That was a much more interesting idea to me.

And so my eyes have been opened to a whole new way of sorting things, and I like it. Just today, I heard a joke. A hamburger walks into a bar and orders a beer. "Sorry," says the bartender, "we don't serve food."

That's right.

Master and Student

I told Kyle that my old brain was only able to learn new tricks before noon, so if he wanted to teach me how to play Minecraft, he was going to have to set his alarm. I figured I might be safe, but this morning, as I read the news in bed, I got a text: GET UP!!!

I laughed and texted back that I was up, and I would come to the kitchen shortly. I found him there bleary eyed and wearing the Minecrafter t-shirt we got him for his birthday. He was eager to begin.

"Don't worry," he assured me, "I'm a good teacher." 

And he was. He was patient and protective, killing all the creepers and zombies and spiders, and he only laughed out loud at me once, and that was when I fell into a mineshaft. "I saw the whole thing," he told me. "You were looking up and you walked right in! You never saw it coming." He shook his head, unable in the moment to empathize with anyone who might have trouble navigating that blocky world. 

Overall, it was pretty fun, though, and I made sure I thanked him for going to the trouble of getting up early for me. 

"No problem," he said. "See you tomorrow morning-- you have a lot more to learn."