Recently a teacher lamented the fact that we had no space-age “hero” biographies in our library. Upon searching the shelves I discovered that indeed, she was right. I had no books about astronauts or modern research scientists. It is only our second year in existence and building a solid, balanced collection takes at least five years. Needless to say I went straight to my order list and added a few books to my biography collection.
The whole question made me ponder the idea of a hero. How do we define it? Who qualifies as a hero? I tend to agree with the teacher’s judgment that pop singers and sports figures should not fall into the category of heroes—at least not for what they do on the stage or on the field. Some of them, however, strive to spend the fortunes they acquire through fame to better the lives of others. Does that not make them heroes? It certainly does to the people they help.
Webster online defines a hero as : a mythological or legendary figure often of divine descent endowed with great strength or ability; an illustrious warrior; a man admired for his achievements and noble qualities; one that shows great courage. Webster does not seem to apply the word hero to women. Apparently if I want to consider a female for the role, I’ll have to find the definition of heroine. Ah, but I digress. Second meaning is from literature: : the principal male character in a literary or dramatic work. The third definition refers to that rather large sandwich that we can purchase at any number of popular alternative fast food restaurants. The fourth, however, throws a monkey wrench in the lofty classification of hero: an object of extreme admiration and devotion : idol. Apparently even Webster is reduced to including any number of pop and sports icons in the category of hero.
No where in any of these definitions did it mention scholarly knowledge, volunteer service, living an admirable, worthwhile life. That’s so sad. Who should today’s hero’s be? Those who can catch a football and run 80 yards down the field to the end zone, behind countless blocks of their teammates. Or perhaps those whose doubtful voice, but awesome good looks, propel them to a lifetime of stage appearances before screaming fans.
At reference.com, I learned that Mikhail Kalashnikov was recently named a Hero of Russia. In case the name is unfamiliar to you, he invented the AK-47 assault rifle, referred to around the globe as “the world’s most lethal weapon.” President Dmitry Medvedev praised him for creating “the brand that every Russian is proud of.” Yikes! I understand guns. We have them in our house. My husband is a member of the NRA. But what purpose does this gun serve except to kill or maim, rapidly and without discretion?
Can we say that your perspective determines who the heroes are, that standards do not apply? In that case, let me tell you about my heroes. Bill and Betty were ordinary people. Nothing in their lives made them famous. Neither had more than a high school education. What elevates them to the lofty status of hero is how they lived their lives. Betty was kind and generous. No one spent a holiday alone if Betty knew them. She gave countless hours to her church, preparing meals, cleaning, serving, singing. She worked full time, but yet kept her house immaculate, enjoyed her family and friends and loved her husband more than anything. In her final months on earth, she thought not of herself but of those she would leave behind and how her passing might affect them. Bill was also a generous man. If you needed help, he was there. He supported his wife and family, did countless jobs around the house and was an interested and attentive parent. He believed in old fashioned work ethic and rarely missed a day of work for all his life. He was a parent who showed up at class performances, and PTA meetings. He served as a church trustee and led committees in planning church events. He did the "behind the scenes work" and let other people take the credit. Bill and Betty were true heroes, whose lives I try to emulate every day. You see, they were my parents and everything I know about life, I learned at their knee. I only hope that every day, I offer the same guidance and commitment to my own children and grandchild. I pray that I remember daily to show the love and patience that was shown to me.
I miss you Mom and Dad. I will always miss you.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Random Rants and Raves
My daughter has suffered some serious health issues lately. We are not talking allergies, colds or a sore throat here. Her symptoms include a rapid heart rate, edema, bruising, serious headaches, neck pain, and a straight line rash that erupts with an itching and burning and lasts about three to five days, painful the whole time. She's been to several doctors, including two gps and a cardiologist, whose idea of handling the situation was to throw pills at her--no attempt to find a diagnosis.
Further complicating the whole mess is the fact that without a diagnosis, her employer is being very uncooperative about her missing work for appointments and procedures. Talk about your vicious circle--you must not really be sick because there is no name for what you have. You can't take anymore time off. I understand you have two medical appointments, one a seriously long procedure, but can't you come to work in between those?
As her mother, I have been very concerned about the lack of diagnosis. Seems to me in our age of technology, that diagnosing my 33 year old daughter can't be that difficult. Really folks, we can put billions of bits of information in a thumb drive--literally no bigger than my thumb.
Being the librarian I am, I conducted some Internet research. I was alarmed at the illnesses in which her symptoms were manifested. Major organ involvement permeated the list and my alarm grew. Thankfully a few months back, Leigh had found a really good, thorough GP. She wasn't using him on a regular basis, because of his office hours--that's a whole other story, the lack of physicians offering office hours that are convenient to people who work 9-5. Instead, she was seeing a doctor who had late afternoon and evening appointments that she could go to after work. She finally broke down and took time from work to go see Dr. X. After running a series of tests, including taking enough blood to feed a vampire family for a week, yesterday she received some good news. She has two viruses, Epstein Barr Virus and cytomegalovirus.
What's that, you ask? Technically, the viruses are related. The latter produces the common cold sore, but sometimes can produce the same or similar sypmtoms as EBV, which is the mononucleosis virus. Yes, it is good news, because now we can at least put a label on how she feels. The list of symptoms is long, but includes every symptom she has, even though the doctor is not yet convinced that other things aren't going on.
She knows what she has now, but my work has just begun. I need to convince her that certain things need to happen if she's going to feel better. That's not an easy job because she is just as stubborn about things as I am.One of the first things I suggested is that she taking short walks in the evening to help her sleep. How could I have predicted that last night, she would take my advice and stroll outside our house between 9:30 and 10 PM? Not far mind you, but she had her cell phone in hand, trying to reach a few friends. She was right across the street from our home with her cell phone to her ear when a car drove up the street, slowed down, at which time someone inside pelted her with a frozen egg. It hit her in the rib cage with the force of a baseball. By the time she reached the front door, she was crying from the pain of being hit. I immediately called 911. After all, this was assault! About 30 minutes later, a police car pulled into our driveway. I was grateful they came although by that time there was probably little hope of them catching the culprits. They did mention they had several calls about the same car pelting eggs all over south Irving. I am appalled that none of these kids came to the realization that these eggs could hurt someone. That was indicated by the laughter as they sped away! Today, my daughter is bruised and extremely sore thanks to a careless prank. Should the police locate these young men, my suggestion would be they suffer the same fate as my daughter. This could work particularly well for her. There will be the therapeutic action of exacting justice, while showing off her wicked throw developed after years of playing softball. Using pin-point accuracy, I am sure she could place a few frozen eggs on well chosen targets!
Further complicating the whole mess is the fact that without a diagnosis, her employer is being very uncooperative about her missing work for appointments and procedures. Talk about your vicious circle--you must not really be sick because there is no name for what you have. You can't take anymore time off. I understand you have two medical appointments, one a seriously long procedure, but can't you come to work in between those?
As her mother, I have been very concerned about the lack of diagnosis. Seems to me in our age of technology, that diagnosing my 33 year old daughter can't be that difficult. Really folks, we can put billions of bits of information in a thumb drive--literally no bigger than my thumb.
Being the librarian I am, I conducted some Internet research. I was alarmed at the illnesses in which her symptoms were manifested. Major organ involvement permeated the list and my alarm grew. Thankfully a few months back, Leigh had found a really good, thorough GP. She wasn't using him on a regular basis, because of his office hours--that's a whole other story, the lack of physicians offering office hours that are convenient to people who work 9-5. Instead, she was seeing a doctor who had late afternoon and evening appointments that she could go to after work. She finally broke down and took time from work to go see Dr. X. After running a series of tests, including taking enough blood to feed a vampire family for a week, yesterday she received some good news. She has two viruses, Epstein Barr Virus and cytomegalovirus.
What's that, you ask? Technically, the viruses are related. The latter produces the common cold sore, but sometimes can produce the same or similar sypmtoms as EBV, which is the mononucleosis virus. Yes, it is good news, because now we can at least put a label on how she feels. The list of symptoms is long, but includes every symptom she has, even though the doctor is not yet convinced that other things aren't going on.
She knows what she has now, but my work has just begun. I need to convince her that certain things need to happen if she's going to feel better. That's not an easy job because she is just as stubborn about things as I am.One of the first things I suggested is that she taking short walks in the evening to help her sleep. How could I have predicted that last night, she would take my advice and stroll outside our house between 9:30 and 10 PM? Not far mind you, but she had her cell phone in hand, trying to reach a few friends. She was right across the street from our home with her cell phone to her ear when a car drove up the street, slowed down, at which time someone inside pelted her with a frozen egg. It hit her in the rib cage with the force of a baseball. By the time she reached the front door, she was crying from the pain of being hit. I immediately called 911. After all, this was assault! About 30 minutes later, a police car pulled into our driveway. I was grateful they came although by that time there was probably little hope of them catching the culprits. They did mention they had several calls about the same car pelting eggs all over south Irving. I am appalled that none of these kids came to the realization that these eggs could hurt someone. That was indicated by the laughter as they sped away! Today, my daughter is bruised and extremely sore thanks to a careless prank. Should the police locate these young men, my suggestion would be they suffer the same fate as my daughter. This could work particularly well for her. There will be the therapeutic action of exacting justice, while showing off her wicked throw developed after years of playing softball. Using pin-point accuracy, I am sure she could place a few frozen eggs on well chosen targets!
Sunday, July 26, 2009
My Reading Origins
At the top of the stairs and down the hall, was the front bedroom of my grandparent’s house. I can still close my eyes and see every corner of the room, from its castle like turret of windows to the mahogany sleigh bed. When I was four, I visited this room every single day, because this is where my grandmother spent her time. Propped up on pillows in this huge sleigh bed, because bone cancer had made it impossible for her to walk more than a few steps, she beckoned me to join her atop this magnificent bed to hear the story of Peter Rabbit. She knew Peter intimately, as she was in his original audience, the generation of children for whom the stories were written.
Oh, how she could tell this story. She could tell me all of Beatrix Potter’s stories, but she had long ago stopped trying to interest me in Benjamin Bunny or Jemima Puddle Duck because she knew what I really wanted to hear was Peter’s adventure in Mr. MacGregor’s garden. I had to hear every last detail, from that bunny mother who went off to shop and left all her children on their own, to Peter, who while enjoying the buffet of veggies in MacGregor’s garden was discovered by the angry farmer who chased him with a hoe. Along the way, Peter lost his very handsome bunny suit, ending up in the pail of water, chilled and frightened. I loved Peter and his exploits. To me, Peter was a risk taker, a daring, charming, young rabbit, who did things on impulse and didn’t always listen to his mother. Being the very good girl, who always listened to her mother, I revered vicariously, his mischievous deeds. I cheered as he ran lickety split across the garden and squirmed under the gate with the help of his bird friends. I’d let out a little cry when his mother would put him to bed without supper.
We’d talk and giggle about Peter and his antics and then my grandma Jenny would shuffle a few feet to the card table set up in front of the biggest window. There we’d enjoy tea, cucumber and watercress sandwiches, served by my Aunt May in her crisply starched white apron, and imagine that Ms. Potter had come to tea to talk about naughty Peter and her other characters. Those days were glorious and emblazoned in my memory banks.
In the months leading to her death in July of 1955, my grandmother sent my aunt on a quest, to find me my own copy of this book so I could forever remember the story and our days of sharing it. Those magical days made me a reader. They led to days of independent reading through the shelves of my neighborhood library. Those wonderful, happy days of childhood, when my dear grandmother took the time to introduce me to stories and books, produced a librarian and teacher who loves introducing children to books.
Oh, how she could tell this story. She could tell me all of Beatrix Potter’s stories, but she had long ago stopped trying to interest me in Benjamin Bunny or Jemima Puddle Duck because she knew what I really wanted to hear was Peter’s adventure in Mr. MacGregor’s garden. I had to hear every last detail, from that bunny mother who went off to shop and left all her children on their own, to Peter, who while enjoying the buffet of veggies in MacGregor’s garden was discovered by the angry farmer who chased him with a hoe. Along the way, Peter lost his very handsome bunny suit, ending up in the pail of water, chilled and frightened. I loved Peter and his exploits. To me, Peter was a risk taker, a daring, charming, young rabbit, who did things on impulse and didn’t always listen to his mother. Being the very good girl, who always listened to her mother, I revered vicariously, his mischievous deeds. I cheered as he ran lickety split across the garden and squirmed under the gate with the help of his bird friends. I’d let out a little cry when his mother would put him to bed without supper.
We’d talk and giggle about Peter and his antics and then my grandma Jenny would shuffle a few feet to the card table set up in front of the biggest window. There we’d enjoy tea, cucumber and watercress sandwiches, served by my Aunt May in her crisply starched white apron, and imagine that Ms. Potter had come to tea to talk about naughty Peter and her other characters. Those days were glorious and emblazoned in my memory banks.
In the months leading to her death in July of 1955, my grandmother sent my aunt on a quest, to find me my own copy of this book so I could forever remember the story and our days of sharing it. Those magical days made me a reader. They led to days of independent reading through the shelves of my neighborhood library. Those wonderful, happy days of childhood, when my dear grandmother took the time to introduce me to stories and books, produced a librarian and teacher who loves introducing children to books.
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Gone Too Soon
I spent the afternoon watching the memorial service for Michael Jackson. It was a celebration of his life and thousands waited in line to find their place at this moment in history. Millions more were glued to their televisions as friends performed his music, unfolded favorite memories and inspired all of us to remember the best of what was the phenomenon known as Michael Jackson. Personally, I was touched by the poem from Maya Angelou. Later in the afternoon, while looking for the poem online I ran into a hateful blog by Dallas Morning News columnist, Ron Dreher, that demonized Michael and everything that occurred at this event. I had to ask why--in his comment section--not once but twice. I was irritated and annoyed that he wrote this column as a right wing Conservative Christian and he and his blog followers made comments that vilified Michael and those who would celebrate his life as if they were speaking for all Christians. He did not speak for me and judging by the rest of the material that appeared later today in his blog he most certainly never will. Let us not forget in the hours of television footage about Michael, that more than an entertainer of millions, he was a son, a brother, a father, a friend.
Michael Jackson was an icon, plain and simple. I remember clearly when Michael's song Ben, replaced Hey Jude in the number one spot of my mother's top ten list. It didn't matter how old you were, his music affected you, made you happy, sad, reflective, excited, wanting to get up and dance. My daughter quantified events in her life by releases of Thriller, Billie Jean and Bad music videos. They were, after all, events.
Two of his friends, Brooke Shields and Magic Johnson, delivered the most poignant stories. They were snapshots of a man who could have fun, laugh, enjoy his friends, his family, his children outside the glare of public life. In the countless hours of interviews that Michael did with Martin Brashears for ABC, his innocence was apparent. He repeated often, how shy he was off stage. His life from age 5 was performing. He did it well and was most comfortable when in front of an audience. It was evident that Michael truly was Peter Pan--the boy who never grew up.Was this the tragic flaw of Michael Jackson--wanting his lost childhood to last forever?
Michael Jackson was an icon, plain and simple. I remember clearly when Michael's song Ben, replaced Hey Jude in the number one spot of my mother's top ten list. It didn't matter how old you were, his music affected you, made you happy, sad, reflective, excited, wanting to get up and dance. My daughter quantified events in her life by releases of Thriller, Billie Jean and Bad music videos. They were, after all, events.
Two of his friends, Brooke Shields and Magic Johnson, delivered the most poignant stories. They were snapshots of a man who could have fun, laugh, enjoy his friends, his family, his children outside the glare of public life. In the countless hours of interviews that Michael did with Martin Brashears for ABC, his innocence was apparent. He repeated often, how shy he was off stage. His life from age 5 was performing. He did it well and was most comfortable when in front of an audience. It was evident that Michael truly was Peter Pan--the boy who never grew up.Was this the tragic flaw of Michael Jackson--wanting his lost childhood to last forever?
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Judy Blume
Those of you who know me, know that a writing idol of mine is Judy Blume. I regularly read her blog here at blogspot. In fact it is in my list of blogs. If you've never read her blog, take a moment and read her current post. She's a great writer and this post may give most of you--I am thinking Texans here--a reason to rethink NYC as a den of iniquity.
Big City Saga
Big City Saga
July 2, 2009
Here we are, just two days until the fabulous 4th. I love what the holiday stands for, although I detest fireworks. Not that their beauty and magic goes unnoticed by me, but the noise--I am not a loud noise person. I think that comes from years as an only child in a very quiet household.
Today, I would just rather write about July 4th and what it stands for with all its pomp and circumstance; along with the facts and fiction that surround it. Let's start at the beginning. The Second Continental Congress approved a resolution of independence in a closed session on July 2, 1776. The Declaration was written by Thomas Jefferson. He sought the editorial voice of both Benjamin Franklin and John Adams "because they were the two members of whose judgments and amendments I wished most to have the benefit." Ironically, both Jefferson and Adams died on July 4, 1826.
July 4, 1776, the Congress officially adopts the document and John Dunlap prints multiple copies. Twenty four of these "Dunlap broadsides" are known to exist. Copies of the document are sent to the New Jersey and Delaware legislatures. The declaration is read publicly in Philadelphia as well as to the American Army in New York. On July 19, 1776, The Second Continental Congress orders the document to be engrossed--which means officially inscribed--and the signing begins on August 2. It isn't until January 18, 1777, that the Congress, now meeting in Baltimore, Maryland, orders copies of the signed document be printed and sent to the various colonies. I think it is a remarkable history lesson for our children that things did not happen instantaneously as they do today--no email, fax, cell phone or facebook transmissions of news. Simply men on horseback passing the document and the word. My home state of Pennsylvania had the largest number of signers of the Declaration, 9, although only three of them have any strong name recognition. They were Benjamin Franklin, Robert Morse and Dr. Benjamin Rush. Maybe those names only had meaning to me as a Pennsylvania school girl. The other six were George Clymer, James Smith, George Taylor, John Morton, George Ross and James Wilson. Of note is Robert Treat Paine, a signer from Massachusetts, who descends from the same Paine ancestors as me.
The holiday has been celebrated continuously in various parts of the US, but wasn't officially called Independence Day until 1791. The longest continual celebration by parade occurs in Bristol, Rhode Island. The parade has been held every July 4 since 1785. Fireworks have been part of the celebration of the fourth since 1777. Even hotdog eating became part of the celebration when Nathan's Hotdogs on Coney Island began their hotdog eating contest in 1919 as a way for four immigrants to decide who among them was the most patriotic. Perhaps that is one of the reasons we include hotdogs in the "baseball, apple pie and hotdogs" statement of American tradition.
My sources for this blog were Wikipedia and The Declaration of Independence site from ushistory.org.
Today, I would just rather write about July 4th and what it stands for with all its pomp and circumstance; along with the facts and fiction that surround it. Let's start at the beginning. The Second Continental Congress approved a resolution of independence in a closed session on July 2, 1776. The Declaration was written by Thomas Jefferson. He sought the editorial voice of both Benjamin Franklin and John Adams "because they were the two members of whose judgments and amendments I wished most to have the benefit." Ironically, both Jefferson and Adams died on July 4, 1826.
July 4, 1776, the Congress officially adopts the document and John Dunlap prints multiple copies. Twenty four of these "Dunlap broadsides" are known to exist. Copies of the document are sent to the New Jersey and Delaware legislatures. The declaration is read publicly in Philadelphia as well as to the American Army in New York. On July 19, 1776, The Second Continental Congress orders the document to be engrossed--which means officially inscribed--and the signing begins on August 2. It isn't until January 18, 1777, that the Congress, now meeting in Baltimore, Maryland, orders copies of the signed document be printed and sent to the various colonies. I think it is a remarkable history lesson for our children that things did not happen instantaneously as they do today--no email, fax, cell phone or facebook transmissions of news. Simply men on horseback passing the document and the word. My home state of Pennsylvania had the largest number of signers of the Declaration, 9, although only three of them have any strong name recognition. They were Benjamin Franklin, Robert Morse and Dr. Benjamin Rush. Maybe those names only had meaning to me as a Pennsylvania school girl. The other six were George Clymer, James Smith, George Taylor, John Morton, George Ross and James Wilson. Of note is Robert Treat Paine, a signer from Massachusetts, who descends from the same Paine ancestors as me.
The holiday has been celebrated continuously in various parts of the US, but wasn't officially called Independence Day until 1791. The longest continual celebration by parade occurs in Bristol, Rhode Island. The parade has been held every July 4 since 1785. Fireworks have been part of the celebration of the fourth since 1777. Even hotdog eating became part of the celebration when Nathan's Hotdogs on Coney Island began their hotdog eating contest in 1919 as a way for four immigrants to decide who among them was the most patriotic. Perhaps that is one of the reasons we include hotdogs in the "baseball, apple pie and hotdogs" statement of American tradition.
My sources for this blog were Wikipedia and The Declaration of Independence site from ushistory.org.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
T-Ball is over!
Sadly, Dylan's team did not make it to the end of the tournament. I am sure the boys would have liked to play to the end, but I am not sure the parents and grandparents could have taken it, considering the current heat wave that is covering north Texas. Tuesday evening I sat through two games the Astros played, starting at 5:45 PM for warm-up, through the end of the second game at about 9:50 PM. The temperature hovered at around 100 degrees during the four hour period. We were all hot, tired and irritable when we got home. Dylan was up until almost midnight trying to wind down from the evening's events. He awoke about 3 AM suffering from a bad dream and kept his mommy up for about three hours. He finally fell back to sleep around 6 AM and then slept until 1:15 PM.
The bad dream episode was probably attributable to our gardening episode the previous day. We had our front beds cleaned out and weeded so we could expand them and plant some new foliage. When we went out to inspect them, we discovered a small green garter snake in the barren bed. I think that event coupled with an overtired little boy provided fertile ground for some big, snaky dreams.
The bad dream episode was probably attributable to our gardening episode the previous day. We had our front beds cleaned out and weeded so we could expand them and plant some new foliage. When we went out to inspect them, we discovered a small green garter snake in the barren bed. I think that event coupled with an overtired little boy provided fertile ground for some big, snaky dreams.
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Potpourri
I have been absent from my blog for some time. Life has been hectic, with the school year rapidly coming to an end and Dylan playing T-ball games two or three times a week. I spent all day yesterday in Mesquite watching him play. T-ball has been a mixed blessing. I think Dylan likes to play, but I am sometimes appalled at the adult behavior I see exhibited at games. What ever happened to good sportsmanship and trying your best. It seems that these days coaches are only interested in winning at any cost, including berating the kids, yelling at them, yelling at the umps, starting arguments with the opposing team coaches.
I can't believe that Dylan's first year of school will be over in four days. He will be a big first grader next year.The end of the school year is always hectic in the library, tracking down lost and overdue books, collecting payments for damaged ones. I am down to four students which is a good place to be as we start the last week of classes. Now I just have to finish packing up my stuff to keep it safe and relatively dust-free over the summer.Our first year at La Villita Elementary was a memorable one, making new friends, breaking in a brand new building, building memories for ourselves and the children we serve.
Summer is almost here. For the first time in almost ten years I will not be working summer school. I am looking forward to spending time at home, cleaning my house, reading up a storm, playing with Dylan, going on some short "field trips," and generally just having fun. And perhaps, maybe I won't be so neglectful of my blog!!!
I can't believe that Dylan's first year of school will be over in four days. He will be a big first grader next year.The end of the school year is always hectic in the library, tracking down lost and overdue books, collecting payments for damaged ones. I am down to four students which is a good place to be as we start the last week of classes. Now I just have to finish packing up my stuff to keep it safe and relatively dust-free over the summer.Our first year at La Villita Elementary was a memorable one, making new friends, breaking in a brand new building, building memories for ourselves and the children we serve.
Summer is almost here. For the first time in almost ten years I will not be working summer school. I am looking forward to spending time at home, cleaning my house, reading up a storm, playing with Dylan, going on some short "field trips," and generally just having fun. And perhaps, maybe I won't be so neglectful of my blog!!!
Sunday, April 12, 2009
My Mother
Yesterday would have been my mother's 83rd birthday. I was just a little melancholy thinking about all the time I've been without her. I had just turned 24 when she died. She never had the opportunity to meet my two children. I never had the opportunity to ask so many of the questions that I've wondered about through my parenting. I've been without her longer than I had her with me, 35 years.
It got me thinking how much I miss having a big family. Maybe miss isn't the right word, since you can't really miss what you've never had, but I know that I am just a bit envious of close knit, large families. For example, on a day like yesterday, it would have been nice to have a sister--or even a brother to call and converse about the good ol' days, tell a "mom" story or two and feel better because you share the same memories of days gone by. Of course, these wished for siblings would also be there to share the good times too. You know, you call them when you've gotten a promotion, when your child or grandchild hits a home run, or maybe just when you've had a wonderful day that you want to share with someone you love.
My own two children really missed the opportunity of growing up close to their cousins. By the time they were 10 and 5, we lived in Ohio and Bob's three brothers and parents lived in Pennsylvania and Maryland. Even though there were 11 cousins, spanning about 18 years, they are not close. Then we moved to Texas in 1991 and we rarely saw other members of the Phillips clan. When Bob and I divorced in 1994, the distance seemed to grow even larger. That was a difficult time for me and I was lucky that I had cousins who are very close and who helped me to get through it, thank you Bob and Kathy for that. I think we should be siblings not cousins. ;-)
My daughter occasionally gets back east to visit but Evan hasn't been back east in at least ten years. He is definitely the black sheep of the family but certainly not entirely of his own choice.
It got me thinking how much I miss having a big family. Maybe miss isn't the right word, since you can't really miss what you've never had, but I know that I am just a bit envious of close knit, large families. For example, on a day like yesterday, it would have been nice to have a sister--or even a brother to call and converse about the good ol' days, tell a "mom" story or two and feel better because you share the same memories of days gone by. Of course, these wished for siblings would also be there to share the good times too. You know, you call them when you've gotten a promotion, when your child or grandchild hits a home run, or maybe just when you've had a wonderful day that you want to share with someone you love.
My own two children really missed the opportunity of growing up close to their cousins. By the time they were 10 and 5, we lived in Ohio and Bob's three brothers and parents lived in Pennsylvania and Maryland. Even though there were 11 cousins, spanning about 18 years, they are not close. Then we moved to Texas in 1991 and we rarely saw other members of the Phillips clan. When Bob and I divorced in 1994, the distance seemed to grow even larger. That was a difficult time for me and I was lucky that I had cousins who are very close and who helped me to get through it, thank you Bob and Kathy for that. I think we should be siblings not cousins. ;-)
My daughter occasionally gets back east to visit but Evan hasn't been back east in at least ten years. He is definitely the black sheep of the family but certainly not entirely of his own choice.
Saturday, April 4, 2009
Houston, Houston, I've been to Houston
Finally the load is lifted and I can proudly say that I have been to the fourth largest city in the US, and the largest city in Texas. It only took me 18 years. I arrived in Texas in 1991 but just haven't had a reason to go to Houston until now. I must say, I was impressed. Thankful that it wasn't the middle of summer with simmering humidity, I was able to walk downtown to shopping, the convention center, and several outstanding restaurants. I don't think Dallas has done as good a job in providing visiting conventioneers with activities, hotels and restaurants in close enough proximity to the convention center. It's sad to hear the current opposition to the convention hotel being proposed. Bringing tourists and conventioneers to Dallas is good for everybody.
The past week I attended the Texas Library Association annual conference. It is exceeded in size only by the American Library Association Conference and the excitement is invigorating. I arrived on Monday evening and had just a small case of butterflies as I was presenting at the preconference on Tuesday. Once that was over--and which thankfully went very well, I relaxed and enjoyed thoroughly the rest of the conference.
I had the opportunity to hear Paula Poundstone and Gloria Steinem speak and both were excellent. One kept us laughing for almost an hour, the other reminded us of the progress we've made as women and the journey we have yet to travel. I have to say that while I enjoyed Paula, I was in awe of Gloria.
As a young adult, my life was changed by her words and actions and those of other members of the women's movement. I began to believe that I truly could be an independent person and do anything I chose to do. Her message encouraged me to put off having a family until I secured my education, getting a masters degree before my daughter was born. Those of us who chose families and careers rallied against the stereo-typical cries of men who would have us uneducated and home and baby bound. I can remember socially being questioned by men who asked why I worked and told me I couldn't be a good mother and a working women. My response was always that it was a difficult path, but that my spouse was also a parent and with his help, it was very possible to be both good parents and wonderful role models for our children. They saw that both of their parents had value outside the home, both could make daily decisions and affect the lives of others, both could come home to make dinner, read stories, give baths, and tuck in children. While my husband at the time still fought doing a lot of domestic chores, he certainly did contribute to the raising of our children, particularly our daughter.
To give you a little perspective on how far we have come, in 1966 when I was considering my college options, I could not apply to Harvard, Yale, Princeton, Brown, Dartmouth or Amherst. Closer to my home in northeastern Pennsylvania, I could not attend Lehigh or Lafayette or even the University of Scranton in my hometown. These are just a few of the many universities who had not yet seen the wisdom of admitting women to their undergraduate program. Ms. Steinhem attended Smith College, one of the seven sisters, because none of the Ivy League schools were admitting women at that time. Gloria was quick to point out that we still have a long way to go. Jobs are still pigeon-holed, not by the nature of the work but by the people who do the job. For example, parking lot attendents still make more than child care workers, not because we value our cars more than our children but because one job is done by men, the other largely by women.
As happy as I was to visit Houston and enjoy its hospitality, I am even happier to be home. I am looking forward to the last seven weeks of school.
The past week I attended the Texas Library Association annual conference. It is exceeded in size only by the American Library Association Conference and the excitement is invigorating. I arrived on Monday evening and had just a small case of butterflies as I was presenting at the preconference on Tuesday. Once that was over--and which thankfully went very well, I relaxed and enjoyed thoroughly the rest of the conference.
I had the opportunity to hear Paula Poundstone and Gloria Steinem speak and both were excellent. One kept us laughing for almost an hour, the other reminded us of the progress we've made as women and the journey we have yet to travel. I have to say that while I enjoyed Paula, I was in awe of Gloria.
As a young adult, my life was changed by her words and actions and those of other members of the women's movement. I began to believe that I truly could be an independent person and do anything I chose to do. Her message encouraged me to put off having a family until I secured my education, getting a masters degree before my daughter was born. Those of us who chose families and careers rallied against the stereo-typical cries of men who would have us uneducated and home and baby bound. I can remember socially being questioned by men who asked why I worked and told me I couldn't be a good mother and a working women. My response was always that it was a difficult path, but that my spouse was also a parent and with his help, it was very possible to be both good parents and wonderful role models for our children. They saw that both of their parents had value outside the home, both could make daily decisions and affect the lives of others, both could come home to make dinner, read stories, give baths, and tuck in children. While my husband at the time still fought doing a lot of domestic chores, he certainly did contribute to the raising of our children, particularly our daughter.
To give you a little perspective on how far we have come, in 1966 when I was considering my college options, I could not apply to Harvard, Yale, Princeton, Brown, Dartmouth or Amherst. Closer to my home in northeastern Pennsylvania, I could not attend Lehigh or Lafayette or even the University of Scranton in my hometown. These are just a few of the many universities who had not yet seen the wisdom of admitting women to their undergraduate program. Ms. Steinhem attended Smith College, one of the seven sisters, because none of the Ivy League schools were admitting women at that time. Gloria was quick to point out that we still have a long way to go. Jobs are still pigeon-holed, not by the nature of the work but by the people who do the job. For example, parking lot attendents still make more than child care workers, not because we value our cars more than our children but because one job is done by men, the other largely by women.
As happy as I was to visit Houston and enjoy its hospitality, I am even happier to be home. I am looking forward to the last seven weeks of school.
Friday, March 20, 2009
Maggie--A story from my past
Maggie
Maggie fascinates me. Born seven decades before me, living in two centuries, she knows much about her world and shares it willingly. All I have to do is ask.
“Why do you do this, grandma?” In my child’s mind I was thinking of a recent bad cold when I’d had to endure a chest poultice of goose grease and camphor, despite protests from my mother who was thoroughly modern when it came to medicine.
“Because there’s a need,” Maggie replies. “Lots of people can’t afford a doctor. I do what I can to help.” That statement launches a conversation that includes tending to people with colds, pneumonia, and even those giving birth. Her answer is simple and profound at the same time and I won't deeply understand until much later in life when I began my family research.
Maggie was born into and lived most of her life in abject poverty. With little education, there was not a whole lot she could do to improve her situation. In the early days of her life she was, like so many women of her day, little more than property, first of her parents and then her husbands. While the Women’s Movement continued to make progress, the rank and file waited for some evidence of it. Women gained admittance into the working world as servants, teachers or mill workers. Large-scale decision making by women was still decades away. And as in any generation, women without education often did not hear of the progress and even if they did, the day-to-day grind that was their life prevented them from acting upon it. Miners made $1.00 a day for 12-hour shifts, so children were put to work. Boys were likely to follow their fathers into the mines. Girls had two choices—become a domestic or work at the silk mill for much less than what the miners made. Histories written about my hometown are quick to point out that mine owners went out of their way to keep other industry out of Scranton to insure a large workforce for the mines. The only industry welcomed was the lesser paying silk and lace mills where the workforce was predominantly women.
The statement triggers thoughts of my beloved grandfather, the man who my father now emulates. It makes me wonder how gampa grew into such a nearly perfect man, at least to me, without benefit of a male role model, so I ask about my great grandfather, Gampas father. Maggie hesitates, before answering, then quietly recounts that he was gone a long time and killed in the mines. Even at my young age, I can see the pained look, the water that wells up, but does not spill from her eyes. But again my age makes me incapable of understanding the significance of her statement. I understood it to mean that his death occurred years ago by some mining accident that was all too common in Scranton.
Astros Baseball
As the team took the field, prepared for some drills and direction from the coach, the few fans on the sidelines watched with unwavering interest. After all, the players were sons and grandsons of the fans. Let's face it; anything performed by a six year old, particularly when you are related to him, is interesting.
All kidding aside, watching youngsters learn to play baseball is intriguing. In two practices I've seen 9 players go from not being able to throw accurately, nor catch consistently, to getting 2-3 catches or throws in a row. Quite an accomplishment, Coach Jon! What fun to watch the boys interact too. A week ago, they didn't know each other at all, and now you can see them put their heads together and giggle over something that just happened or high five a teammate for a great play.
Participating in sports was never really my thing--do remember I grew up in the pre-Title IX era. I was a healthy kid, who loved being outside, but team sports just weren't an option for a girl in the 1950's. Just imagine me on Beaver Cleaver's little league team--you get the picture. I do enjoy watching though--particularly when one of the players just happens to be my grandson.
I am not sure the team will be ready for their first game on March 28, but they seem to be having fun trying and isn't that what it is all about?
All kidding aside, watching youngsters learn to play baseball is intriguing. In two practices I've seen 9 players go from not being able to throw accurately, nor catch consistently, to getting 2-3 catches or throws in a row. Quite an accomplishment, Coach Jon! What fun to watch the boys interact too. A week ago, they didn't know each other at all, and now you can see them put their heads together and giggle over something that just happened or high five a teammate for a great play.
Participating in sports was never really my thing--do remember I grew up in the pre-Title IX era. I was a healthy kid, who loved being outside, but team sports just weren't an option for a girl in the 1950's. Just imagine me on Beaver Cleaver's little league team--you get the picture. I do enjoy watching though--particularly when one of the players just happens to be my grandson.
I am not sure the team will be ready for their first game on March 28, but they seem to be having fun trying and isn't that what it is all about?
Saturday, February 28, 2009
The Book
I just read Judy Blume's latest blog. After a literary conference in Key West, which provided the motivation and ideas, she's started a new book. It was amazing to read her blog about how the process works for her. She mentions in her blog that she carries her characters in her head sometimes for years before she is ready to put the story into book form. That was a real inspiration for me--since the two main characters of my book have been with me for several years now.
Her book takes place in the 1950's--I love that decade. After all, those were the years of my childhood. Being a half century baby, I was the embodiment of Joanie from Happy Days. The only thing missing was the older brother. From poodle skirt, bobby socks, saddle shoes, to hoola hoops and skorts (check those out in wikipedia), those were truly happy days for me. As I look back, I believe the reason I enjoyed this decade so much was my own innocence and the happy feeling that the world was a safe place.
Back to my book--which is languishing in my thumb drive as we speak. There are days I wish I had nothing to do but write, but life seems to get in the way. I think I should take another tip from Judy Blume and keep a notebook where I can write down ideas about my characters, which will help to move the story along. To a certain extent they live in my head too. I know they want the story told and I ask myself daily if I really can tell this amazing story. I wish Judy Blume could come live at my house for a week or two. Imagine how much I would learn about writing from a master writer like her.
I think one of the major stumbling blocks for me is for whom am I writing this story? Let me rephrase that--I am writing the story for me, but what audience will read it? Being a school librarian, I so want this to be a book that kids will pick up, but the story--to be told properly, isn't really a children's story. It is a story based in real life and I want to be as true to the details as I can. I must tell the love story, in detail, which puts it out of the realm of a children's book. Or does it? After all, Stephanie Meyers has made quite a lot of money telling a love story in which a vampire is symbolic of the sexual act. No real sex to speak of--but the young people who clamor to read her books don't seem too upset by that.
Another roadblock for me is the decade in which my story takes place--actually the time frame is a little more than two years, from late 1900 until June of 1902. I've already done quite a bit of research so that details are accurate. The story takes place in two countries--more research--and it involves an industry--coal mining-- that I knew very little about until I started researching for the book about three years ago.
Why am I writing in my blog about writing my book instead of actually doing it?
Her book takes place in the 1950's--I love that decade. After all, those were the years of my childhood. Being a half century baby, I was the embodiment of Joanie from Happy Days. The only thing missing was the older brother. From poodle skirt, bobby socks, saddle shoes, to hoola hoops and skorts (check those out in wikipedia), those were truly happy days for me. As I look back, I believe the reason I enjoyed this decade so much was my own innocence and the happy feeling that the world was a safe place.
Back to my book--which is languishing in my thumb drive as we speak. There are days I wish I had nothing to do but write, but life seems to get in the way. I think I should take another tip from Judy Blume and keep a notebook where I can write down ideas about my characters, which will help to move the story along. To a certain extent they live in my head too. I know they want the story told and I ask myself daily if I really can tell this amazing story. I wish Judy Blume could come live at my house for a week or two. Imagine how much I would learn about writing from a master writer like her.
I think one of the major stumbling blocks for me is for whom am I writing this story? Let me rephrase that--I am writing the story for me, but what audience will read it? Being a school librarian, I so want this to be a book that kids will pick up, but the story--to be told properly, isn't really a children's story. It is a story based in real life and I want to be as true to the details as I can. I must tell the love story, in detail, which puts it out of the realm of a children's book. Or does it? After all, Stephanie Meyers has made quite a lot of money telling a love story in which a vampire is symbolic of the sexual act. No real sex to speak of--but the young people who clamor to read her books don't seem too upset by that.
Another roadblock for me is the decade in which my story takes place--actually the time frame is a little more than two years, from late 1900 until June of 1902. I've already done quite a bit of research so that details are accurate. The story takes place in two countries--more research--and it involves an industry--coal mining-- that I knew very little about until I started researching for the book about three years ago.
Why am I writing in my blog about writing my book instead of actually doing it?
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Understanding Road Rage--okay--Road Anger
I've been driving for a long time. In Pennsylvania, drivers licenses were obtained at age 16 after driver education which was part of the high school program. I had Coach DeCantis as my driving teacher. Let's just say riding around with the football coach and the young man who would eventually be my husband for 23 years was an interesting experience. I did learn a lot though--because Coach wouldn't have it any other way. He believed in driving safely and also driving kindly.
I have noticed that today there seems to be no courtesy on the road. Everyone is so self absorbed, as though there is no one else but them on the road. Tonight I was amazed not once, not twice but three times by drivers who have probably cut in line since kindergarten. One was a woman who wanted a close parking space at Target. She made a left hand turn to go down a lane but stopped leaving the rear half of her car positioned so that oncoming traffic must stop for fear of hitting her. She does not move, but waits for the person to load his car, get in his car, start his car and back out of his spot, all the while blocking traffic in both directions in the main lane right in front of Target. The second was a man, driving in front of me as I was leaving the Target parking lot and getting on the access road for 635. I am in the center lane as is he. In this lane you can go straight or turn left. I assume he's going straight because he does not use his turn signal. WRONG. He slowly approaches the light--not going the speed limit--and then at the last moment he speeds up and turns left, leaving me stuck at the light. Geesh! The third driver is sexless because the SUV had tinted windows and I could not see the driver when I finally got to pass the car. The Ford Explorer was in the far left lane on Loop 12 going 60 miles an hour. I am in the far left lane going 65--five miles over the limit. I come up on the car, thinking they would move--Wrong. They continue at 60 in the far left lane. I flash my lights, just once--but still no movement to the middle lane. I finally put on my blinker move to the middle lane and pass the car. All the laws of driving I have ever been taught say that the left lane is for passing. You get in this lane, pass the cars you need to and then return to a middle or right hand lane. This was not rush hour with three lanes packed with cars. It was almost 8 in the evening and traffic was light. Apparently the driver was comfortable in the left lane and wasn't going to move.
What's the point of this traffic tale? I guess it is the realization that people with any kind of anger management problems could be in serious trouble on Texas roads. How many drivers does it take before one reaches the anger limit and blows? I do my share of complaining about bad drivers, but usually not loud enough for the other drivers to hear me. But I am beginning to see how it could happen.
I have noticed that today there seems to be no courtesy on the road. Everyone is so self absorbed, as though there is no one else but them on the road. Tonight I was amazed not once, not twice but three times by drivers who have probably cut in line since kindergarten. One was a woman who wanted a close parking space at Target. She made a left hand turn to go down a lane but stopped leaving the rear half of her car positioned so that oncoming traffic must stop for fear of hitting her. She does not move, but waits for the person to load his car, get in his car, start his car and back out of his spot, all the while blocking traffic in both directions in the main lane right in front of Target. The second was a man, driving in front of me as I was leaving the Target parking lot and getting on the access road for 635. I am in the center lane as is he. In this lane you can go straight or turn left. I assume he's going straight because he does not use his turn signal. WRONG. He slowly approaches the light--not going the speed limit--and then at the last moment he speeds up and turns left, leaving me stuck at the light. Geesh! The third driver is sexless because the SUV had tinted windows and I could not see the driver when I finally got to pass the car. The Ford Explorer was in the far left lane on Loop 12 going 60 miles an hour. I am in the far left lane going 65--five miles over the limit. I come up on the car, thinking they would move--Wrong. They continue at 60 in the far left lane. I flash my lights, just once--but still no movement to the middle lane. I finally put on my blinker move to the middle lane and pass the car. All the laws of driving I have ever been taught say that the left lane is for passing. You get in this lane, pass the cars you need to and then return to a middle or right hand lane. This was not rush hour with three lanes packed with cars. It was almost 8 in the evening and traffic was light. Apparently the driver was comfortable in the left lane and wasn't going to move.
What's the point of this traffic tale? I guess it is the realization that people with any kind of anger management problems could be in serious trouble on Texas roads. How many drivers does it take before one reaches the anger limit and blows? I do my share of complaining about bad drivers, but usually not loud enough for the other drivers to hear me. But I am beginning to see how it could happen.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Ice Days
That's right, in Texas, it is usually an ice day, not a snow day. My eastern friends would laugh to see school called for such a little precipitation. When I taught at Waverly School (Northeastern Pennsylvania) in the seventies and eighties, you had to be wading knee deep in snow before school would be called. Here in Texas, we never get those kind of snow falls, but we do get ice. Give me snow any day. You can be somewhat in control of your car on snow, but not ice. With all our bridges and overpasses here, I don't think that ice is going to melt all day today. In fact, Channel 8, the ABC affiliate just reported that it is melting when treated but then is refreezing--imagine that. Maybe what they are using to treat is NOT working the way it should.
Personally, I am glad they called school off today. I know some of my friends would rather have that extra spring day, but I prefer to stay safe and warm at home today, instead of on the road with some crazy drivers. I hope it melts by mid afternoon as I have to get to the grocery store to buy some treats for our Bluebonnet voting party on Thursday.
It's official! There were over 700 accidents in Dallas just during the morning rush on Wednesday, January 28, 2009.
Personally, I am glad they called school off today. I know some of my friends would rather have that extra spring day, but I prefer to stay safe and warm at home today, instead of on the road with some crazy drivers. I hope it melts by mid afternoon as I have to get to the grocery store to buy some treats for our Bluebonnet voting party on Thursday.
It's official! There were over 700 accidents in Dallas just during the morning rush on Wednesday, January 28, 2009.
Monday, January 19, 2009
Tomorrow is the beginning
Tomorrow marks the beginning of change in this country. The inauguration of Barack Obama evokes so many feelings in so many people. As we celebrate the life of Dr. Martin Luther King today, I can't help but think how proud he would be to celebrate tomorrow's events.
As I watched the We are One concert in celebration of the inauguration, I was so moved by the performers and their songs. I lived through the civil rights movement of the 1960's, first as a child, then a teenager and finally as a college student when Dr. King was assassinated. I am not sure anything else shaped me so much as those events. And the music of that time still brings me to tears. An aside, weren't Bettye Lavette and Jon Bon Jovi fabulous singing Long Time Coming? If you missed it, its on youtube.
I am thrilled that this nation is finally living up to the tenets of its foundation, ...that all men are created equal and endowed by the creator with certain unalienable rights. I understand men to mean all humans, and this would have also been an historic day had Hilary Clinton won the election. The time was right for Obama, his words inspire and unite and that's what we need right now. I pray daily for his safety and for his ability to lead us out of the great economic crisis we face. The fog that was the last eight years in Washington is lifting and we can see our future. Let us all work to make it happen, to end the greed and avarice by encouraging an economy that leads all Americans to prosperity, not just the wealthy.
As I watched the We are One concert in celebration of the inauguration, I was so moved by the performers and their songs. I lived through the civil rights movement of the 1960's, first as a child, then a teenager and finally as a college student when Dr. King was assassinated. I am not sure anything else shaped me so much as those events. And the music of that time still brings me to tears. An aside, weren't Bettye Lavette and Jon Bon Jovi fabulous singing Long Time Coming? If you missed it, its on youtube.
I am thrilled that this nation is finally living up to the tenets of its foundation, ...that all men are created equal and endowed by the creator with certain unalienable rights. I understand men to mean all humans, and this would have also been an historic day had Hilary Clinton won the election. The time was right for Obama, his words inspire and unite and that's what we need right now. I pray daily for his safety and for his ability to lead us out of the great economic crisis we face. The fog that was the last eight years in Washington is lifting and we can see our future. Let us all work to make it happen, to end the greed and avarice by encouraging an economy that leads all Americans to prosperity, not just the wealthy.
Monday, January 5, 2009
First Day Back to Work
I'd been looking forward to it for several days. I enjoyed my time off, but was getting just a little bit bored. Eric and I had made plans to switch cars this morning as the small car needed to be inspected. Dylan and I were on the way to the big car when he suddenly decided he better make a trip to the bathroom before leaving. I thought I'd load up the car, start it and go wait for him inside. After all it was 32 degrees and rainy this morning at 7 AM. When Dylan and I came back outside to get into the car I discovered that the car doors were locked, with the car running and the keys inside. I have never done this before and this was the wrong time to start as the second set of keys for this car had been lost by my son. My husband and son tried to pop the window enough to get to the lock, but instead ended up shattering the window. I wasn't around to see that part, since Eric had given me the keys to the other car and sent Dylan and me off to school. Thank goodness DJ had his back pack. I, on the other hand, had nothing--no purse, phone, drivers license, work keys, fob for getting into the building, coffee, lunch--just my coat and car keys! Let's just say it was an expensive day--and left us all slightly off kilter--you know how it is when your day starts off wrong.
Friday, January 2, 2009
Do you ever wonder?
...why we make the choices we do? What is the catalyst that pushes us in one direction or another?
I've recently become quite active on my Facebook account. Why not? I was home for two weeks, plenty of time to catch up with old friends, see family photos and check in with my alumni groups. So, pretty much all week I've been doing just that. Today, it dawned on me that I could probably find one or two genealogy groups to join, so I began a search and joined a few of them. As I continued the genealogy search, I found several names of a people who were family researchers too. One was from my hometown, was close to my age, does genealogy research and shares my birthday of January 7. So, I took a chance and sent her a friend request. After all, friends have been made for lesser reasons. She wrote on my wall, I wrote on her wall, you know how it goes, then we started emailing. By the end of this evening we were both amazed at the low number of degrees of separation. It started with her grandson dating a second cousin of mine, continued with her daughters attending the school district where I taught Then there was the fact they had lived in Texas for four years, but the clincher was when she mentioned her sister's husband whom she thought I might know because we grew up in the same neighborhood. Well, not only did I know him, I lived across the street from him and he was my second cousin. Small world, you say--we said it, over and over again as we marveled about how we met because I took a chance on Facebook to ask a "stranger" to be a friend. Moral of this story--sometimes we lead with intuition or heart as some people call it. We are impelled to make choices that are not necessarily based on reason and sometimes those choices are the best possible ones we could have made.
I've recently become quite active on my Facebook account. Why not? I was home for two weeks, plenty of time to catch up with old friends, see family photos and check in with my alumni groups. So, pretty much all week I've been doing just that. Today, it dawned on me that I could probably find one or two genealogy groups to join, so I began a search and joined a few of them. As I continued the genealogy search, I found several names of a people who were family researchers too. One was from my hometown, was close to my age, does genealogy research and shares my birthday of January 7. So, I took a chance and sent her a friend request. After all, friends have been made for lesser reasons. She wrote on my wall, I wrote on her wall, you know how it goes, then we started emailing. By the end of this evening we were both amazed at the low number of degrees of separation. It started with her grandson dating a second cousin of mine, continued with her daughters attending the school district where I taught Then there was the fact they had lived in Texas for four years, but the clincher was when she mentioned her sister's husband whom she thought I might know because we grew up in the same neighborhood. Well, not only did I know him, I lived across the street from him and he was my second cousin. Small world, you say--we said it, over and over again as we marveled about how we met because I took a chance on Facebook to ask a "stranger" to be a friend. Moral of this story--sometimes we lead with intuition or heart as some people call it. We are impelled to make choices that are not necessarily based on reason and sometimes those choices are the best possible ones we could have made.
Thursday, January 1, 2009
Happy New Year
Wow! Another year passes as I drift dangerously close to the opposite shore. When I was a college student, who'd have thought that I'd be writing 2009 on my checks--when I write a check that is. Things have certainly changed in my life time. Let's make a list of things that have happened between 1950 and now--no particular order.
color television
stereo
8-track tapes--bomb
microwave ovens
cd
video tapes and players
dvd's
digital cameras and digital videos
cell phones
youtube :-)
personal computers
laptops
online banking
LCD projectors--changed the face of teaching
Activboards--also a big change
blogs, wikis, myspace, facebook--any online personal interactions
Please friends, feel free to add to my list--if you can remember that far back. I look forward to your comments.
color television
stereo
8-track tapes--bomb
microwave ovens
cd
video tapes and players
dvd's
digital cameras and digital videos
cell phones
youtube :-)
personal computers
laptops
online banking
LCD projectors--changed the face of teaching
Activboards--also a big change
blogs, wikis, myspace, facebook--any online personal interactions
Please friends, feel free to add to my list--if you can remember that far back. I look forward to your comments.
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