A Piece of My Mind

How does this happen?

2011-11-13T16:27:00.005-06:00

Being a Pennsylvania native, I have carefully followed the unfolding scandal at Penn State. Several things have really bothered me as I watch the news coverage and videos. What is predominantly on my mind is the failure to consider the safety and welfare of these children that were abused at the hands of Mr. Sandusky while Penn State administrators and coaches knew about it and did nothing.
I've taken the time to read the twenty plus pages of the grand jury indictment. If you haven't read it, you should. You can find it here. I am appalled at the number of victims already uncovered, with the hint that there may well be more. Perhaps the most disturbing fact is that McQueary, then a graduate assistant at Penn State, witnessed a rape of a ten year old boy in the locker room shower of the football facility. Not only did this 27 year old do nothing to stop what was happening, he apparently had to call his dad to ask what to do next. Really? At 27, being a teacher and a mom, I am confident that I would have intervened, even if I needed a baseball bat, and I also would have called the police—that night.
Joe testified to the following in the grand jury testimony:
Joseph V. Paterno testified to receiving the graduate assistant’s report at his home on Saturday morning. Paterno testified that the graduate assistant was very upset. Paterno called Tim Curley (“Curley”), Penn State Athletic Director and Paterno’s immediate superior, to his home the very next day, a Sunday, and reported to him that the graduate assistant had seen Jerry Sandusky in the Lasch Building showers fondling or doing something of a sexual nature to a young boy.”
Something of a sexual nature? McQueary testified that he reported what he had seen to Paterno. Read the document to see exactly what McQueary saw. Here’s my next big question. Even if you only heard the words “sexual nature” and “young boy,” wouldn’t that be enough for you to immediately call your superior, not wait a day? And speaking of his superior, am I the only one who is a bit shocked that Joe had enough clout to make his superior come to him, not the other way around? I know I probably shouldn’t be shocked, but I have been out of Pennsylvania for over thirty years.
It was wrong and both of these men knew it was wrong. Yes, Joe notified the proper university officials, but did he ever ask a question about what they did about it. He apparently did not, because several years later, Mr. Sandusky was still recruiting for Penn State. In fact, reports indicate that Mr. Sandusky went on recruiting visits as recently as this past spring, during the grand jury investigation.
Another disturbing fact is that reports of sexual abuse surfaced long before this report by McQueary. According to MSNBC: “ … in 1998, Sandusky was investigated after he was accused of "behaving in a sexually inappropriate manner" with a boy in a shower at the football team's facilities, the grand jury said. The report said an attorney for Second Mile who was also university counsel, Wendell Courtney, was aware of the allegations.” The entire article can be found here. He was observed again in 2000, in the showers of a Penn State facility by a janitor. The janitor tells his immediate superior who advises him to file a report, but since the janitor was a temporary employee, it doesn’t get done. So, 2002 was not the first time that Penn State facilities were used by Mr. Sandusky to abuse young boys, nor was it the first time he was observed or investigated.
Sandusky is arrested on November 5, 2011. Joe makes a statement on Sunday, November 6, 2011, released by his son Scott in which he states: "If this is true we were all fooled ... we grieve for the victims and their families. They are in our prayers." Joe goes on to defend his actions in going to administrators and not following up. On Wednesday, the day after his press conference was cancelled, Paterno announces his retirement effective at the end of the season with this pre-emptive warning to the board. "At this moment the board of trustees should not spend a single minute discussing my status. They have far more important matters to address." (Atlanta Journal) Wednesday evening Joe Paterno is relieved of his position as head coach of the Penn State football program.
What occurs following this is what disturbs and grieves me most. The outrage displayed by the students, alumni and fans of Penn State for the firing of the legendary Paterno, far overshadows anyone’s grief for what has happened to the victims in this scandal. How and why do you side with a man who covered up the acts of a depraved person? The same man who was, until this past week, suggesting they allegations may not be true. Joe, you have at least one eye-witness on your staff and quite probably there are more who were afraid to speak up. Angry mobs overturning a mobile news van, blaming the media for Joe’s dismissal are the scenes displayed across the country and world-wide. When one Penn State grad stands outside the stadium bearing two signs that say, “Put abused kids first,” and Don’t be fooled, they all knew. Tom Bradley, everyone must go.” He is ridiculed, cursed, slapped, showered with beer and over the course of an hour, only one person stopped to agree with the man. (Washington Times article) While the fans inside the stadium seemed reticent and sad, outside the stadium people were still loudly protesting the firing of JoePA. I’ve heard of mob mentality before, even seen it first hand at anti Vietnam rallies while a college student, but I have never witnessed people so concerned with the future of a football program and the 60 year career of an 85 year old man who had clearly not done enough to protect these young victims. Several former players have been heard defending Coach Paterno's actions, saying he did what he had to do. Maybe as suggested in Micah 6:8, he should have done more.I sincerely hope that the board continues to clean house at Penn State. They did the right thing for the student body and the university. Not until the house is clean, can this football program move forward with the pride of Nittany Lions.

I'm Back!

2011-06-12T12:54:00.003-05:00

Who'd have thought I'd been gone from writing this long--certainly not me. Some family problems have filled my days and nights with worry and a little stress, but things are looking up and it is time to write again. That said, heat is on my mind.

I like heat...there's something to be said for spicy Mexican or Indian food, a hot cup of cocoa after a snowball fight, a steamy shower upon waking in the morning. However, I do not like endless days and nights of 90+ degree weather. Who wants to walk in 95 degrees? I long for breezy weather and cool mornings to walk. It also wouldn't hurt if when the sun set, the temperature fell to someplace in the sixties, with low humidity. I long for a lovely porch or patio to share the evening coolness with friends and family.

Such a place does exist, but it isn't here in Dallas. I am so ready to go home to Pennsylvania...where such things do exist. Yes, there are hot days, but a limited number. Yes there are snowy cold days, but that's when I'd enjoy a lovely fire with my feet up and a good book. I think the lure of retirement has me hooked. More to come as I begin planning my journey.

Conquering Heroine?

2010-06-20T13:01:00.003-05:00

Wow! One week, two days and the glucose meter is not looking like such a formidable machine any longer. After days of sticking with no results, I finally got all the bugs worked out and actually got a reading. If you've never used a meter before, there are a few things to consider. Don't think that intuition will guide you through. What you think will work doesn't. Follow the directions to the letter. My meter requires 1.0 micro-liters of blood, which I am happy to say the American Diabetes Association actually pictures. It is about the size of a the top of a straight pin, not the point. My first couple of attempts I tried to drop the blood onto the strip--no go. After coaxing the appropriate amount of blood to the surface, you bring the test strip to the blood and gently let it flow onto the strip. It's fun to watch actually. The channel fills quickly and in five seconds you have results. So simple, despite all my worries.

Now I just have to learn what it all means. I think I'll celebrate with a pedicure tomorrow!

One Week In

2010-06-18T16:27:00.002-05:00

It's been one week since my diagnosis of Type II diabetes. The week seem to drag by--probably because I am anticipating my vacation which starts next Friday. I am like a little kid waiting for Christmas morning. But not so fast...the drag could be due to the darn glucose meter. If you remember, that's the machine that causes me to prick my finger on more than one occasion during each day. I think I've finally gotten over the fear of the prick, but I was having real trouble managing the meter. My husband suggested I go back to the doctor's office, but I don't cave that easy. I finally went to the site of the company that makes the meter and all my questions were answered. Goodness, Gayle, what took you so long. My meter is a OneTouch Ultra 2 made by LifeScan. It really is easy to use and I have to say the prick isn't that bad.

The first week on Bob Greene's 1500 calorie diet for diabetics didn't go badly. For the first three or four days, I think I was too nervous to really care about eating, but my appetite seems to have returned today. I've always been very conscious about reading food packaging labels, but am even more so now. I am mostly looking for sodium, carbs and fiber content. I love salad, which is very good for me to eat--low cal, low carb, high fiber. I just hate making them and I refuse to buy salad in a bag-it just never tastes fresh enough to me. I have a salad spinner which really rinses and dries the lettuces very well. Using a variety of greens makes the salad interesting. I usually throw in some yellow or red pepper, cucumber, red onion,cherry tomatoes and sometimes either broccoli or cauliflower. Depending on my flavor moods, I add avocado, or Gorgonzola with roasted walnuts or pecans. Okay, now you see why I hate making salads--I am fussy and it is a lot of work, but oh so good. One of my favorite dressings from a bottle is Newman's low fat lime vinaigrette. It goes perfectly with the avocado.

The most upsetting part of my new eating plan is having to cut down on my favorite carbs. I am not a big sweet eater, so I don't really miss desserts. A bowl of fresh strawberries or blueberries fills that niche. I do miss my potatoes and my pasta. It is not that I can't eat them, it is the amount that I can eat. 1/3 of a cup of cooked whole wheat pasta does not take up much room on the plate. Nor does a third cup of brown rice or half a baked potato. I haven't had a chip of any kind since last Friday and may go into withdrawal since tortilla chips are probably my favorite snack. I've added a lot of seafood choices to my menu--even though I prepare for me only since Eric does not eat fish.

I've been walking--but not every day this week. Eric and I had some errands to run so I guess I could count walking through stores we visited. I did walk Monday and today, just around the neighborhood for about 20 minutes. I actually love to walk but here in Texas, even at 8:30, it is a chore. It was probably close to 90 degrees this morning.

Here's hoping I can keep this up on the road. I will keep posting from my vacation stops.

Sweet Ride

2010-06-14T13:55:00.003-05:00

Friday, June 11, 2010, is a day that will forever change me. My journey has become somewhat more complicated and I've spent the last 48 hours pondering how I will manage it. On Friday, I learned that I have Type II diabetes which brings with it the codependent issue of high blood pressure. I knew my sedentary lifestyle--thanks computer--would catch up with me. It has and now everything must change if I am to do well with controlling this illness. I've decided to write about it, describing the emotions and the physical implications.

Let's begin with the glucose monitor. You would think a woman with two masters degrees would have no trouble mastering the tiny meter. Three days later I am still learning the ropes. What's the big deal, shouldn't everyone love sticking themselves several times a day?

Taking two medications is freaking me out a bit. I don't like taking advil for a headache. About the only thing I have taken regularly over the last thirty years is a multi vitamnin. I am taking metformin, the generic form of glucophage. Its purpose is to lower my blood sugar--in conjunction, of course, with a proper diet and exercise. The other med is lisinopril for high blood pressure. So far neither medication is having an adverse effect, although I've found already if I don't eat enough before taking the metformin and then try to exercise I find myself lightheaded.

I am not having difficulty with the diet part. I understand I have to cut back on carbs, which is really okay with me--except for one thing. I like potatoes--any way, shape or form--so cutting them out or even cutting back is difficult. I love chicken, fish and seafood, so choosing them as a lower calorie protein is easy for me--so long as they hold out, considering the mess in the Gulf. That's a really sad state of affairs which I'll probably address in another blog. I also love low carb veggies like cauliflower, brussel sprouts and broccoli.

I've reinstated my walking routine, which was temporarily on hold due to my knee acting up. It's feeling better, so I am trying to get out before the Texas heat takes over. It was 80 degrees when I walked at 9 AM this morning. Waiting any later than that puts the whole plan into jeopardy--as I tend to wilt in the heat. Can't wait for those cool summer morning in Scranton or elsewhere in the northeast. Eric has talked me into going back to the weight machine, and I will do that in about 3-4 weeks. Our vacation is coming up and I can't see starting before we leave.

More to come...

Thanks for the Memories

2010-04-11T09:20:00.004-05:00

They called it the end of an era and perhaps it was. Texas stadium stood at the intersection of Loop 12, 183 and 114 for 39 years, welcoming players and fans to the Sunday excitement that was a Cowboy’s game.

Some of my friends remember it being built. Not me. My very first recollection of the famous icon was from the opening credits of the hit series Dallas. You see, back in the early days of my marriage and my growing family, football was not a big part of my life, and when I had the time, I was watching the Steelers, the Eagles or the Giants, not the Cowboys. Who would have believed then that someday, going to Texas stadium would become a Sunday ritual?

When we arrived in north Texas in January of 1991, it was hard to absorb the fervent fever that permeated the very air here. I’d lived in Baltimore and in Cleveland, but never remembered the fan base being as loyal as here. Cowboy shirts were everywhere and the people wearing them would not hear a disparaging word about their ‘boys.

My first trip to the stadium came as the preseason of 1991 began. My daughter played in the band at R. L. Turner High School in Carrollton, Texas. The band boosters made the majority of their fund-raising money by running a concession stand at the stadium. Every Sunday for the next three years, I would spend hours before and after the game preparing and cleaning up the stand. But the hours during the game were the most special, when what seemed like millions of people passed by or stood in line waiting for a hot dog or nachos and a drink. I learned to be quick to provide service and give change—and no—there was no big register that told me how much to give. If you hesitated even a little, some fan might get angry about missing even a minute of action on the field. I loved the hustle bustle, the lines, the crowds, the excitement. The only thing I didn’t miss when my time there ended was the intense August and September heat that often raised the temperature in the stand well above 100 degrees.

When the demand for hot dogs went down at the stand you knew something exciting was happening on the field. One at a time, some of us would sneak away to a gate, to stand and watch a great play and sometimes a touchdown by the Cowboys. In 1993, I jumped at the chance to work all three of the Garth Brooks concerts. Again the stadium was packed to the roof with excited fans. What a stage show, complete with thunder, lightning and rain, courtesy of Garth’s concert tour! I managed to sneak a few moments watching the concert and even though Garth appeared to be not much larger than child’s action figure, it was a great moment.

In the fall of 1993, my former husband and I became owners of season tickets. He and I attended quite a few games and when I let my daughter or son attend instead, you’d find me back in the concession stand, serving up dogs and counting out change at something close to the speed of light. The Thanksgiving Day game on November 25, 1993, was perhaps my most memorable. My husband decided to forgo the game tickets that day, when we awoke to find the weather miserable and predicted to be worse. I would have liked to stay home that day too, but the Band boosters were desperate as so many people bailed that day. So off I went for a 3:30 game start. Of course that meant I had to be in the stadium two hours before they opened the gates to fans, which was 11:30 for a 3:30 game. Things didn’t look bad when I got on the road but oh how that would change during the course of the day. When the fans started exiting the stadium around 6:30 that evening, I still had an hour or more of work to complete before I could leave. I got to my car around 8 PM, and finally got home about 10 PM, even though I only lived about 16 miles away. And what a drive that was! Some of you may also remember that this was the game in which Leon Lett made the blunder of his career. His touching the ball and failure to hold on to it in the icy conditions allowed the Dolphins another chance at their field goal, which they made, beating the Cowboys 16-14.

In January of 1993, the Cowboys ended up in Pasadena for the Superbowl. My husband was lucky enough to get tickets and he and my son, Evan, spent a few memorable days in California, which included watching the Cowboys win and Michael Jackson perform.
Even more memorable for my son was being in the old OTB on Beltline in Addison on January 7, 1994, when Jimmy Johnson, Norv Turner and Dave Wannstedt who were also at the bar, signed autographs for my son and daughter. I like to say that was the day that Jimmy bought me a drink for my birthday—sometimes I leave out the fact that he bought drinks for everyone in the restaurant that night. Of course, it wasn’t long after that night that Jimmy Johnson resigned and Norv and Dave left Dallas for careers with other teams.

For me, that was the end of the era. My husband had no desire to return to the stadium as season ticket holders with Johnson gone. My marriage ended that same year and my daughter graduated from high school and while I worked a few more Cowboys games for the band boosters in 94, it wasn’t the same. The memories were bittersweet, as they were today when I watched Texas Stadium collapse on cue. I wonder what the drive to work will be like on Monday morning as drivers slow to take a last look at the rubble that was once such a famous icon.

For all the Saints...

2010-02-07T20:58:00.003-06:00

What a game, what a victory! It was amazing to watch and I am so proud of Jahri Evans and all the Saints. You deserve this win for great play and great coaching! I hate to wish my life away, but I can't wait for football season to begin again!

Super, Super Bowl

2010-02-05T11:40:00.006-06:00

I can not say that I've watched every Superbowl since January of 1967, although I certainly could have. Some teams interest me a lot more than others. Who you watch the games with makes all the difference in the world. I am married to a sports fanatic and have been for the last 12.5 years. Football is one of his passions, so its fun to watch with him and discuss the game.

This year's game, XLIV, is particularly exciting for several reasons. First, the New Orleans Saints have been in existence for the same number of years as the Super Bowl itself. This is the first time the Saints have made conference champs and the Super Bowl. One Saints player grabs my attention. He's not the quarterback nor a running back nor a receiver. Jahri Evans is an offensive lineman that came to the NFL by way of a Division II school which just happens to be my alma mater. I've been following Bloomsburg Husky football for a number of years and have been known to drive or fly long distances to attend a game. You see, I live in Texas and my alma mater is in central Pennsylvania. When I can't be at a game, I am sitting in front of my computer listening to the Internet radio broadcast of the game, following players, charting wins and losses and predicting who will make it to Division II playoffs. Bloomsburg, which fields a team with the equivalency of about 11 scholarships, consistently makes the playoffs and in fact has been the team of the decade in terms of wins in the PSAC. That's due in large part to the coach, Danny Hale. In addition to coaching winning football players, he produces young men who are strong students, community volunteers and college graduates. Jahri is just one of those young men, who entered Bloom on an academic scholarship, excelled at football, graduated with a degree in sports medicine/exercise science and now gives back to Bloomsburg with a scholarship program and as a member of the Golden Helmet Alliance.

Most of the prognosticators have been picking the Colts to win this game. Frankly, I can't support the Colts, even with Peyton Manning as quarterback. Unfortunately, as a former Baltimore Colt fan and Maryland resident I have strong memories of the night in 1983, when the Irsay family moved the Colts out of Baltimore in the middle of the night. There was plenty of blame on both sides for that move, but the bottom line is that I don't and won't support the Indianapolis Colts. Perhaps if they had changed the name of the team to something more reflective of Indianapolis--a car name would be more appropriate considering what makes Indianapolis famous. The Colts belonged to Baltimore, home of the Preakness, and to Maryland, where Harford County is known for its thoroughbred horse farms.

That said, I am going with the Saints to win this game. Their unflappable spirit, their fabulous coach, their reborn quarterback, and best lineman in the NFL, Jahri Evans #73, all will be strong forces that lead the Saints to victory.

Pen vs sword, Part II

2010-01-23T22:24:00.005-06:00

Today I read an editorial from the January 21, New York times. Seems the writer shares my feelings about this being one of the most damaging rulings ever to the face of American democracy. A small quote from that editorial:
This issue should never have been before the court. The justices overreached and seized on a case involving a narrower, technical question involving the broadcast of a movie that attacked Hillary Rodham Clinton during the 2008 campaign. The court elevated that case to a forum for striking down the entire ban on corporate spending and then rushed the process of hearing the case at breakneck speed. It gave lawyers a month to prepare briefs on an issue of enormous complexity, and it scheduled arguments during its vacation.

If that paragraph doesn't strike fear in your heart, try this one on for size:
The majority also makes the nonsensical claim that, unlike campaign contributions, which are still prohibited, independent expenditures by corporations “do not give rise to corruption or the appearance of corruption.” If Wall Street bankers told members of Congress that they would spend millions of dollars to defeat anyone who opposed their bailout, and then did so, it would certainly look corrupt.

Corporate contributions to advertising in the media--in any of it's multitude of forms--will control elections, plain and simple. If pharmaceutical companies want a particular candidate elected--they most certainly have the financial wherewithal to make that happen.

And try this final quote on for size--most particularly if you are a liberal thinker, since as long as this ruling stands there will be very few liberal or even middle of the road thinkers left in office.

In dissent, Justice John Paul Stevens warned that the ruling not only threatens democracy but “will, I fear, do damage to this institution.” History is, indeed, likely to look harshly not only on the decision but the court that delivered it. The Citizens United ruling is likely to be viewed as a shameful bookend to Bush v. Gore. With one 5-to-4 decision, the court’s conservative majority stopped valid votes from being counted to ensure the election of a conservative president. Now a similar conservative majority has distorted the political system to ensure that Republican candidates will be at an enormous advantage in future elections.

None of us will benefit from a one party system--which this ruling was designed to create. Oil companies, insurance companies, pharmaceutical companies should not be running this country--they should not have Congress in their proverbial pockets--but this ruling promotes that. I agree with the president when he says that these powerful corporations will drown out the voices of ordinary Americans. Every single American who has ever voted in an election should be writing their Congressman to make changes in laws to prevent this. This ruling has nothing to do with free speech and everything to do with politcal corruption.

The Pen: mightier than the sword?

2010-01-21T23:30:00.002-06:00

The pen is mightier than the sword. What wisdom in that statement. In a bloodless coup, the US Supreme Court, or should I say the five most conservative justices, all nominated by Republican presidents, have just changed the face of American elections, local and national. Now any corporation with enough money can influence the outcome of an election by dumping an unlimited amount of funds into media blitzes for the candidates of their choice. If you are reading this and have even a modicum of intelligence you know which candidates those will be.

While the contribution limits to federal campaigns remains in tact, any corporation with money can run any type of ad to persuade the general public to vote their way. How many of those ads will be imbued with integrity or veracity? As it is now, local and national news entities hustle to provide fact checks for the unlimited drivel that spews in campaign advertisements.

Where are the likes of Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes, who in one of his most quoted decisions, restricted free speech when it interfered with the efforts of the US government to recruit soldiers during wartime? How will the content of ads be controlled? Who will do the fact checking? A recent conservative presidential adviser embodied the adage of “tell a lie often enough and people will believe it.” Most people do not check the “facts.” I know this to be true by the excessive number of shady, dishonest and hurtful political forwards I receive. “Pass it on” is the motto of the email forwarder. If it’s on the Internet, it must be true, right? How many conservative, business friendly candidates will be elected before our system is one party only?

I believe this decision by the high court will insure an overrun of Republican candidates who walk into office, propelled by the ever present media blitzes paid for by corporate entities who will directly benefit from their election. Is that freedom of speech or electoral manipulation?

What is a hero?

2009-11-11T09:44:00.002-06:00

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.

Random Rants and Raves

2009-08-06T09:51:00.006-05:00

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!

My Reading Origins

2009-07-26T21:31:00.004-05:00

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.

Gone Too Soon

2009-07-07T22:58:00.004-05:00

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?

Judy Blume

2009-07-02T16:17:00.002-05:00

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

July 2, 2009

2009-07-02T13:41:00.003-05:00

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.

T-Ball is over!

2009-06-18T07:11:00.003-05:00

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.

Potpourri

2009-05-31T19:38:00.002-05:00

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!!!

My Mother

2009-04-12T15:11:00.004-05:00

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.

Houston, Houston, I've been to Houston

2009-04-04T20:34:00.006-05:00

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.

Maggie--A story from my past

2009-03-20T22:25:00.006-05:00

Maggie

In my memory, I open the door and enter hesitantly. Daddy has already gone through the gate into the garden, so I am on my own to enter and greet Maggie. Despite her appearance, weather-worn and weary, her voice is surprisingly lilting and light. She welcomes me into the one room that occupies the ground level of her three story home. The heavy smell envelops me and I am suddenly not sorry I skipped breakfast this morning. I can see the large cast iron pot on the stove—the pot that Maggie always uses to render the goose skin into the fat she believes to have medicinal powers. Waiting to receive the remedy are six jars of various sizes, cleansed of their former contents and waiting to spring to life as the apothecary fills them with a new purpose.

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.

I fast forward to 2008 and what I know about Maggie now.

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.

I re-enter the memory. I hear the flip, flip, flip of the push mower that Daddy uses to mow the backyard. The sound meant the geese were hidden away in their pen while he mowed and it was safe to venture outside. My Dad and his brothers took care of Maggie since her only son, my beloved gampa died. A few years earlier, I’d wandered out into the yard before the geese were penned. Those geese, loud and boisterous, chased me and knocked me down. The event still strikes a tiny bit of fear in my heart. As I watch daddy push the mower I feel a hand on my shoulder. It’s Maggie, beckoning me inside for a cup of tea. As I sit down at the table she speaks, “Your father is a good man.”

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.

I fast forward to what genealogy research has revealed about my great grandmother. Maggie married James Thorpe in August of 1901 at the age of 17 and gave birth to her first and only child with James a little over six months later on February 23, 1902. James was a miner, as were all the men in his family. On May 2, 1902, the Anthracite Coal strike began in Pennsylvania. The time leading up to the strike had been turbulent and work sporadic. It lasted 163 days and in the end, the miners were granted a 9-hour day and a 10 % pay raise—they had asked for an 8 hour day and 20% raise. All of this meant little to the Thorpe family. Months before the strike owners were routinely shutting down mines in hopes of keeping profits up and scaring the miners into compliance. Without regular work, miners could not support their families. James and his two brothers Joseph and William joined over 30,000 miners to leave the state of Pennsylvania. About 10, 000 returned to their native European countries. Others left for the bituminous coal fields of the Midwest. Coal Creek Mine in British Columbia was well aware of the looming US strike and had been advertising in local papers for miners. The pay was better than the current rate in Pennsylvania, so the Thorpe boys went to Canada. The three left in early March, and on May 22, 1902, James and his brother William died in an explosion that killed 127 men at Coal Creek # 2 Mine in Fernie, British Columbia. It was James’ 22^nd birthday.

I return to my memory of Maggie. I nibble on a stale cookie and sip the tea from the cup, ancient and cracked, that Maggie has placed before me. She asks about my mother, and I understand that the conversation about James is over. We chat some more about school and friends and church before Daddy comes through the door, hot and sweaty, and Maggie presents him with a glass of water.

It is time to depart, but the seed has been planted; the one that will grow into a flowering vine that intertwines my present and past so completely that I can not rest until I find the answers to the questions of my childhood, so fragrant and bittersweet.

Astros Baseball

2009-03-20T00:41:00.005-05:00

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?

The Book

2009-02-28T22:43:00.004-06:00

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?

Understanding Road Rage--okay--Road Anger

2009-02-26T20:23:00.003-06:00

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.

Ice Days

2009-01-28T09:25:00.004-06:00

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.

Tomorrow is the beginning

2009-01-19T09:31:00.008-06:00

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.

First Day Back to Work

2009-01-05T23:30:00.004-06:00

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.

Do you ever wonder?

2009-01-02T22:34:00.003-06:00

...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.

Happy New Year

2009-01-01T11:56:00.002-06:00

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.

Two Days After

2008-12-27T12:53:00.002-06:00

December 27--two days out from the big day. The little tree looks lonely now with all the gifts opened, played with, and otherwise dispersed among the toybox. I looked up at the tree this morning and spotted an ornament that Leigh has had since she made it in first grade. It's a sled made from popsicle sticks painted red with the words Merry Christmas 1981 and her name in silver paint. I am sure she had more than a little help from her first grade teacher. The sled has survived many Christmases, many moves, many trees and still it serves to remind us of those wonderful memories from long ago.

Now it's time for football, football and more football. Thank goodness we get a break tonight with a hockey game. Sports rule in this house and after 11 and a half years of marriage I have learned to at least like most of them. Hockey has always been a favorite of mine since my dad and I would watch as I was growing up. The Stars are looking better--let's hope they can keep up the momentum that might carry them into a playoff.

I am looking forward to another week of rest and relaxation! This has been the best winter break we've had in a long time. It is almost impossible to believe that almost half a school year has passed and we're about to start second semester. The library has been growing quickly thanks to an outstanding budget from the district and a lot of time spent meeting with vendors and purchasing a variety of fiction and nonfiction books. I was reminded this morning, when reading my friend Kristen's blog, about a special book that I had purchased for Freeman a few years back. I immediately went to one of my vendor's websites to order it for La Villita. My prekindergarten classes will love The Big Red Tub.

Christmas 2008

2008-12-27T11:54:00.001-06:00

Merry Christmas

2008-12-25T00:38:00.001-06:00

We are 38 minutes into Christmas 2008. There are a zillion presents waiting under the tiny tree for Dylan to come home tomorrow. I can't wait to see the expression on his face.

Happy Holidays!

2008-12-21T16:09:00.003-06:00

Just a few more days before Christmas and a few more hours before Hanukkah arrives. The holiday spirit hasn't really hit me yet. I think part of it is that my grandson is gone until late Christmas day, so no one to make cookies with or for, no one to help me drag out my snowmen and scatter them about, no one to watch in wonder as we light the Hanukkah menorahs. I haven't even done that much shopping yet--although I have to say the economy is more responsible for that than Dylan not being here. His presents have been hidden away for weeks.

I haven't sent out Christmas cards for years. I never sent them locally, but to friends I have made while moving across the country. I always liked to include a letter in each, but in this day of instant Internet access, email, blogging, wikis and the like there just doesn't seem to be a need. Usually you get a birds eye view of my life right here at A Piece of My Mind. I have appreciated the Christmas cards I have received, especially those with pictures of new babies and grandbabies.

I keep hoping the weather will stay cold for Thursday. I've long since given up the notion that it will ever snow for Christmas in Dallas. The most snow we've ever gotten since I've been here was in late February and looked more like a dusting of powdered sugar on cookies. Right now they are predicting a temperature of 64 for Thursday--which I am sure some of my northern friends would love--but it just always seems more like Christmas when it is cold and snowy. As a child, I used to love to walk outside in my boots when it was really cold so I could hear the snow crunch beneath my feet. I can remember many trips to get our Christmas tree when Mr. Wagner and my dad had to bounce the tree a few times to shake the snow from it's limbs before putting it in the car. That was, of course, when I became old enough to understand that Santa Claus resided in my heart rather than the North Pole. Before that time, the tree magically appeared on Christmas morning, along with the story about how Santa brought it, decorated it, and carefully placed the holiday gifts around it. The magic that was a child's Christmas kept me from realizing the impossible task that would have been for Santa. It truly was wondrous to pad down the stairs in my new slippers and jammies--which I am sure my mother bought solely for photo opportunities--to a first view of the tree and and the presents.

I've been so fortunate to share most of Dylan's Christmas mornings. It is amazing to watch through the eyes of a child and see once again the magic of the season. Since marrying Eric, I've also had the wonderful opportunity to celebrate Hanukkah with him and his family. Everyone usually gathers at least one night at our house to light the candles and share latkes, a traditional Hanukkah potato pancake. Funny thing is, I've always loved potato pancakes and my dad and I had been making them since I was a young girl. Thinking of those times and cookie baking times with my mother is making the holiday seem more real as I type away. Both my parents have been gone for such a long time, my dad for 23 years, my mom for almost 34 years but the memories of holiday traditions will always be in my heart. It is those type of memories I hope to leave with Dylan as well.

My wish for all my friends and family is a

Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah & Prosperous and Safe New Year

The Season's Over

2008-11-30T12:33:00.004-06:00

My team lost yesterday. What a roller coaster of emotion it was! I really thought that Bloom could win the game and in fact they went into the half leading the game. Unfortunately a few turnovers and a very bad call by the officials put the final score at 27-24 in favor of California University of PA. So now California goes on to the semi-finals to play Minnesota Duluth. I believe they will have a home game in western PA which is good because the weather in Duluth this time of year is mighty cold. Do I think Cal can beat Duluth--without a doubt. They certainly have the personnel and the will to get the job done. Having been to the semi's last year they know what it takes. It's about time another PSAC representative made it to Florence.

I am already looking forward to next season. It will be the last season for Danny Latorre as quarterback and with the two red shirt freshman running backs maturing, it should be a great season. I just wish I were a little closer to the action. Being 1500 miles away makes it difficult to make the game each Saturday and division II football doesn't generally make it to the networks. I've really enjoyed the last two weeks as the championship rounds have at least made it to a web cast sponsored by the NCAA and CBS. Visuals certainly make the game more interesting and exciting.

I'd like to offer my congratulations to the Huskies on another outstanding season. Danny Hale and his staff do a great job every year with their recruits. They are in contention almost every year with a very limited budget. I might also add that BU offers a fine academic education as well. From its beautiful small town location to the friendly people, from academics to sports teams it is truly one of the best that Division II has to offer.

Happy THANKSgiving

2008-11-22T21:30:00.008-06:00

Wow, a month since my last post. I wish that were an indication of something really exciting that happened, but alas, I've just been busy with the business of life and work and family.

We're about to celebrate Thanksgiving, my favorite holiday. Since I was very little, this holiday has been the one most anticipated, even beyond a child's Christmas. Being an only child and having parents who did not believe in overindulgence, Christmas was mostly a religious holiday for me. And that's good, for those humble religious experiences helped mold me into a productive, moral, ethical adult.

Thanksgiving, though, was a different holiday, when everyone gathered at one family house or another to celebrate another year of family, friends, gifts of good health and good fortune. Dinner was a week long affair, with my mother preparing pies and cookies, homemade cranberries and rolls, turkey, sometimes ham, and tons of vegetables--yum--my favorite. The good silver came out in the weeks before and was lovingly polished, washed and restored to its shiny splendor. My grandma Jones' Noritake, purchased before WW II adorned my mother's mahogany table. Everything was special about this day, but the food and table were certainly the centerpiece. It didn't hurt that I loved to eat!

And who would join us? In the early days, it was both sets of grandparents, my favorite great Aunt Lizzie and her husband, Uncle George and my mother's sister Catherine and her family. As I grew older, the scene changed slightly and my father's two brothers, David and Harold and their families would also join us. Our small house would burst at the seams with people in every room, preparing, cooking, serving, cleaning up, discussing the good ol' days the whole time. I loved the crowd, the talk of things past, the attention--it was wonderful. I especially liked hearing the story of the first Thanksgiving, which my mother told, of Pilgrims who had struggled over the first winter and who had managed to plant and harvest and decided to have a celebration to give thanks for their good fortune. Who would know that 40 years later I would discover that I descended from one of those very Pilgrims of whom my mother often spoke. I still lament that neither she nor my dad were alive when I made my discovery. It would thrill them both to know that I was from the same hearty stock that first set foot in the new world in 1620.

Today I often share stories of that first Thanksgiving, called a harvest feast, with my students. There are so many good books that tell the story, but my favorite is still The First Thanksgiving by Alice Dalgleish. Written in 1954, it's a story I've heard many times, but it took on new meaning when I discovered that Stephen Hopkins, a central character in Dalgleish's book was my 11th great grandfather and that his eldest daughter, Constance, was my 10th great grandmother. In the last five years, I've read a lot of books about the first Thanksgiving and the Pilgrim journey, but two of the best are Nathaniel Philbrick's Mayflower and a relatively new book by Mayflower researcher, Caleb Johnson called Here Shall I Die Ashore Stephen Hopkins: Bermuda Castaway, Jamestown Survivor, and Mayflower Pilgrim.

Johnson, who is a Mayflower descendant, although not from Hopkins, has done an outstanding job presenting the life of this man named Stephen Hopkins. It was Johnson who first published information refuting previous beliefs that Stephen Hopkins was from Wortley, Gloucester County rather than from Hursley, Hampshire County. Stephen Hopkins was only forty when he landed at Plymouth in 1620, but already he had been shipwrecked in the Bermuda Triangle, mutinied, was sentenced to death, convinced the powers that be to set him free, spent time in the Jamestown colony, was written into Shakespeare's The Tempest (written about the shipwreck of the Sea Venture) as Stephano, and then took his entire family, wife Elizabeth, daughters Constance and Demaris and son Giles on board the Mayflower for the 66 day voyage to the new world, during which time his son, Oceanus was born. Once there Hopkins is a stalwart survivor. In fact, the Hopkins family was the only in tact family to survive the first winter. He was a strong influence in the formation of the new colony. Signer of the Mayflower Compact, Hopkins with his friend, Myles Standish, led exploratory parties and became an integral part of the negotiations with Massasoit. He also housed Squanto in his home. When he died at the age of 63 he left an extensive last will and testament in which not only his children, but also his cows are named.
Wow! I can hardly believe that this man, who lead this extraordinary life was my ancestor. One of the things I try to instill in my students is the importance of talking to their parents and grandparents while they have the opportunity; to ask questions of them, their childhoods, their loves and passions. It was those very questions that lit a fire in me and caused me to investigate my own ancestry. Each period that I research becomes so much more real to me because I know an ancestor lived through it and helped to make it happen. Gives me pause to wonder if someday, some granddaughter or grandson, several generations removed will be asking questions about me.

Of Life and Death

2008-10-19T01:37:00.002-05:00

Friday afternoon I attended a memorial service for the mother of a dear friend. Lest those of you who know me think this was the passing of a woman in her seventies or eighties, let me enlighten you. This was the death of a woman my age, whose daughter befriended me 14 years ago as I experienced some of the darkest days of my life. Amy’s friendship got me through a difficult divorce. She bolstered my damaged self image and supported my quest to reposition my talents and move forward. She brightened my days, over and over again, for months on end. Meeting her mom on many occasions, it was evident where Amy got her fantastic smile, her witty charm and her everlasting joyous outlook—from her mother, Alice.

As Alice’s life briefly unfolded through letters from her sisters and message from the minister in front of a packed room, it was obvious the number of lives this woman had touched. Family, students, former students, teachers and administration sat shoulder to shoulder, with tissues in hand, as one word or sentence took each of us back to a moment shared with Alice. I remembered the first time I met Alice when Amy brought me home late one weekend night. Alice was up and reading, something I learned very quickly was a passion. I remembered the first Read Aloud I had at Sheffield Primary—when Alice graciously gave up her planning time to come and read to second grade. I remembered the first time I saw Alice after I knew she was ill, at a school district function last October. She looked wonderful, her signature smile radiant as ever and I couldn’t help but think that she had beaten this horrible disease and was on her way to recovery. I saw her again in July when I was working summer school at Newman Smith. She seemed fatigued, but her smile was luminous. Our anticipated conversation was never realized as she was called to the phone and I returned to the library.

Mostly I remembered getting the news of her passing. I hadn’t heard my phone ring in the middle of a crowded IKEA. As I listened to the phone message, the crowds became invisible and I caught my breath in one giant gasp, followed by tears of sadness—grief for my beautiful friend Amy, and her brother, who had lost both of their parents in such a short time. Sorrow because Alice would never see her two beautiful grandchildren grow up. Almost simultaneously, melancholy swept over me as I realized how finite our time here is.

I suppose the message I am most imparting is the briefness of our earthly sojourn. Making the most of every moment is essential. Giggling with my six year old grandson, sharing a book with my kindergarten students, instructing my older students about the power of the written word, those in books, but more importantly their own—through all of these, I give away a small piece of myself that will be my legacy.

“The question is not whether we will die, but how we will live.”
Joan Borysenko, Ph.D.

Please Watch this Video

2008-10-06T19:21:00.004-05:00

A few days ago I posted some facts about John McCain that I thought were important for people to know before they went to the polls. Apparently, Barack's campaign advisors have determined it is important as well. Some will say this is a negative attack. I say it is an informative video. It isn't so much that McCain attempted to cover up fraud, which he did, but that he hasn't changed his polices against deregulation since then.
Folks, you can not allow the kindergarten kids to guard the cookie jar while the teacher is out of the room. The same rule applies to officers of large financial institutions. Faulty accounting caused the savings and loan crisis and bad judgment by five senators attempted to cover it up and allow it to continue.

This video is narrated by a federal regulator who was there during the whole debacle. He makes sound economic sense.
http://my.barackobama.com/keatingvideo

Another Huskies Win

2008-10-05T17:35:00.003-05:00

Well, October 4th has come and gone and my alma mater has won another D2 football game. They are more than halfway through the season with 6 wins and no losses. Next week will be a real test as they meet long time rival East Stroudsburg University Warriors. I have no doubt they can win the game. In my opinion, the Warriors, a rather young team, will not be able to hang with the Huskies through the whole game. This is also a home game for the Huskies after two away. I imagine they are happy to back home on their new turf. I just wish I could be there to see the game. Instead, I'll be at my computer listening to WHLM on the Internet, applauding and yelling as though I were sitting in the stands.

GO HUSKIES BEAT THE WARRIORS!!

Thirty Days and Counting

2008-10-04T19:27:00.004-05:00

In about thirty days, the voters of this country go to the polls to elect the 44th president of the United States. The decision will affect all of us for at least four years and possibly longer. I say longer, because our current president's bad fiscal judgment and horrendous foreign policy has put this nation in a very precarious position that will effect us for years to come. As I get closer to retirement, I wonder if I'll be able to afford it. My question for all of those voters is: Are you still thinking seriously about voting for John McCain, that rebel maverick, and his pit bull, hockey mom, VP candidate, Sarah Palin? To listen to John and Sarah in their respective "debates" you would think both belong to some mythical third party because they sure weren't acknowledging that they had anything to do with the Republicans who held office for the last eight years.

If you haven't made your decision yet, think about these facts.
First, John McCain, as a prisoner of war, gave aid and comfort to the enemy in the way of giving military information and participating in radio broadcasts for the communists and meeting with communist delegations that including the Cubans. These matters never reached a military court even though other soldiers in similar situations were court martialed. In 1989, US Senator, John McCain, was one of five US Senators accused of corruption as part of the Savings and Loan scandal. Known as the Keating Five, only 2 of the five managed to save their political careers. One was McCain, the other John Glenn. Miraculous what name recognition will do for you. Even today, John McCain calls himself a maverick despite the fact that he has supported George W. Bush on almost every political decision in the last eight years. Yes to tax cuts for the highest economic brackets, yes to war in Iraq based on false intelligence. He voted against bills supporting women's rights in the area of reproduction, including the Teen Pregnancy Education Act. In several other matters, Mr. McCain chose the route of No Vote, perhaps so he could later say he did not support the failed policies of the Bush administration.
John McCain is also the man who didn't know how many houses he owned. Okay, we all know his wife is the one with the money, but he has been married to her since 1980--don't tell me he doesn't know how many properties she or they own. And if he truly doesn't know--are you sure you want him running the largest democratic nation in the world?
To all in public education, John McCain supports vouchers as well as charter schools and merit pay for teachers. All three ideas weaken public education in my humble opinion. Frankly, I am tired of Washington politicians telling the nation how bad our public education system is. There is NO other nation in the world who educates the masses as we do.

And now for Sarah...is there anyone in Alaska prepared to vote for her--or only those who want her out of the state? As Mayor of Wasilla, Palin, who ran on fiscal conservatism, spent an unapproved $50,000 to remodel her office. She attempted to fire the city librarian because she refused to comply with Ms. Palin's censorship of certain books (this librarian blogger opposes censorship). As governor, Palin supported the "bridge to nowhere" appropriation until it became a national joke and even then, kept the money in Alaska. So much for being fiscally responsible and cutting down on pork barrel expenditures. Ms. Palin attended five colleges and universities in six years before receiving a degree in journalism. Apparently in all that time she did not work on a school paper, or do anything else journalism related. And apparently that journalism education did not help her in her interview with Katie Couric where she came off as naive, uneducated, small minded conservative--who later reported on FOX that she didn't like Katie's questions--that she simply wanted to inform the public, in an unfiltered way, of what would happen if Barack Obama became president. The public would like to hear what Palin and McCain offer, but they never talk about that--mostly because they have nothing to say.
Frankly, Sarah Palin, master of folksy phrases like 'you betcha,''straight up,' and 'darn,' scares the 'heck' out of me. She is totally unqualified to be vp let alone slipping into the presidency should something happen to McCain.

Join me at the polls on November 4. Let's make sure that we really do bring CHANGE to Washington politics and our national government.

Death of an Idol

2008-09-27T11:10:00.005-05:00

Paul Newman died yesterday. I cried today when I heard the news. He was a hero of mine since my adolescent eyes first meet his baby blues in The Silver Chalice. I must have been 13 or 14 years old and the 1955 movie was on our brand new color television. It was Paul's first big screen performance and the movie was not notable, but I knew the very moment I saw him on screen that I was in the presence of someone who would be long remembered. I continued to follow his career, watching older movies on television and the newer ones in the theater. I aged with Paul, even though he is almost three decades older than me. And how he did age, naturally, beautifully becoming such a distinguished older man. The last two roles that I admired him in were his performance as Kevin Costner's father in Message in a Bottle and the role of John Rooney in Road to Perdition. In between that first movie and his last, there were so many memorable moments. Here are just a few of mine, well worth watching, again and again.
The Color of Money (1986) .... Fast Eddie Felson
Absence of Malice (1981) .... Michael Colin Gallagher
Slap Shot (1977) .... Reggie 'Reg' Dunlop
The Sting (1973) .... Henry Gondorff
Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (1969) .... Butch Cassidy
Cool Hand Luke (1967) .... Luke
Hombre (1967) .... John Russell
Harper (1966) .... Lew Harper
Hud (1963) .... Hud Bannon
The Hustler (1961) .... Eddie Felson
Exodus (1960) .... Ari Ben Canaan
Cat on a Hot Tin Roof (1958) .... Brick Pollitt
The Long, Hot Summer (1958) .... Ben Quick

My admiration for Paul extended far beyond his ability as an actor. His long marriage to Joanne Woodward survived in part because they removed themselves from the superfluous environment of Hollywood. They raised their children in Connecticut and managed to stay out of the public eye. Paul also pursued other interests, outside of acting. His long time association with racing was something that I am sure gave him great satisfaction. He was a competent driver. And then there's his establishment of Newman's Own brand giving us all quality healthy foods with profits filtering to nonprofit organizations. I hope this business will be continued by his daughter Nell.

I am going to miss Paul Newman, with his bedroom blue eyes and grin that was wider than the big screen. His on and off screen legacy will be with us for a long time to come.

When I was a BU Coed

2008-09-21T13:58:00.006-05:00

Sometimes it is very hard to think about how far removed I am from my coed days at Bloomsburg University, then Bloomsburg State College. I spent some very happy years at BU, as a class leader, sorority member, and RA. I made some lasting friendships--people with whom I am still friends and with whom I enjoy spending time. But can it be that many years ago? I don't really feel that much older. I can still remember football games, wrestling meets, basketball games, even swim meets--only because a good friend was on the team. :-)

I remember sorority and fraternity functions, some a little wilder than others. Concerts by some of the hot groups, which will definitely give away the time frame; The Association, BS&T, The Loving Spoonful. I remember graduation, which occurred just a few days after my 21st birthday, early on a Sunday afternoon. My best friend and I managed to down a couple bloody marys before hand. I remember how proud my mom and dad were that their only child was a college graduate.

A long time ago, a wise and dear friend told me to treasure the special moments for much later times when I was rocking away my hours. She was right. Those very special moments will be with me for a long time.

Huskies Win Again

2008-09-21T13:46:00.002-05:00

Yesterday's game was a bit of a nailbitter. The Huskies have always been a second half team, but I was really worried yesterday that Kutztown would pull out a win. But thanks to Coach Danny Hale's patient ways, the Huskies won 31-21. GO HUSKIES!
With four wins under the belt, there are still seven more games to go, including West Chester and East Stroudsburg.

Authors We Love Have Blogs

2008-09-16T21:02:00.003-05:00

I love Judy Blume--okay, maybe that's a little over the top. I don't even know Judy Blume, but I do know her writing and have been recommending it to kids since I started teaching in the early 1970's. I think my daughter Leigh read every book ever written by Judy Blume. She loved them too. It's 2008, almost 40 years since Judy wrote her first book, Are You there God? It's Me Margaret, but my elementary students still clamor to check out Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing, Fudge, or Superfudge. Her writing and understanding, particularly of adolescent girls is timeless and marvelous.

I discovered today, while helping a student research Judy Blume for an authors' book, that Judy has a blog--imagine that, just like me she writes in her blog as often as she can. Somehow, I feel closer to her now, and closer to my own goal of publishing someday. In her most recent blog, she discusses being a hockey mom , like a certain other newly famous female. Judy says some of the same things in her blog that I said just a few days ago in mine, only she says them infinitely better than I did. Don't believe me, read for yourself. Read her September 7 entry, Hockey Mom.

Huskies Win

2008-09-13T15:54:00.004-05:00

My alma mater goes 3-0 with a shutout against Mercyhurst.

Bloomy, Blizzard and I are so excited. Looking forward to the Kutztown game next week.

Power of Prayer

2008-09-13T11:51:00.003-05:00

While waiting for the remnants of Ike to hit Dallas and waiting for my beloved Huskies to be on Internet radio, I thought I'd post to my blog. Here in Texas, many are cautiously watching as Ike's damage is revealed and of course, we are all praying for safety and limited damage for friends and family.
I'd like to ask each of you to extend your prayer to a friend of mine from high school. Patti suffers from normal pressure hydrocephalus, a condition that almost always requires the insertion of a shunt to drain off excess brain fluid. Patti is in the process now of finding a surgeon and course of treatment. I hope all of you will remember her in your prayers. I believe strongly in the power of collective prayer. I am praying for the successful treatment of this condition so that Patti may resume her life as a mother, grandmother, business woman and friend.

College Yearbook

2008-09-12T21:08:00.002-05:00

Okay, one step further with the yearbook pictures. How is this one from my sorority photo. I was a junior at BU.

Yearbook Pictures

2008-09-12T20:49:00.003-05:00

About a week ago, my friend Meredith put a picture up from a web site called yearbookyourself.com. I went to check it out and realized, I don't have to pretend, I can just drag out my yearbook and scan the photo, so I did. It's a little grainy but here it is. Can you guess the era?

Rants and Raves

2008-09-09T22:47:00.003-05:00

A few days ago, my husband read a post to me from Craig's List. I went into the list to reread the post a few hours later and actually sited it here on my blog. I spent a good portion of Sunday afternoon looking over the Rants and Raves section of Craig's List. Wow! I've always known that there are bigoted people in our world, but until I read some of these posts, I had no idea how bigoted or to what level the hatred reaches. From the use of gutter language to threats of death and beyond, I was truly shocked.
Being a librarian, I've always had strong feelings against censorship, but I have to wonder how sane it is to have a place where people can publicly vent their anger and vile ideas. I have no problem with people having different political viewpoints, but when they are based on lies, inuendo and unproven allegations, coupled with biased hatred, you really have a breeding ground for a troubled society. I love the Internet for its accessibility, instant access to information and informality. But I am troubled by the cloak of anonymity that allows enraged people to spew hate-laden words cascading on all of us like candy falling from a broken pinata. I don't want this to be the world in which my grandson grows up.

More politics

2008-09-07T18:30:00.002-05:00

Eric found something interesting on Craig's List today. I am linking it here. I liked it because it was written by a republican about the republican ticket. His words were thoughtfully chosen and, in my opinion, right on target. Let's hope others agree.
http://dallas.craigslist.org/dal/rnr/831681356.html

A Great Day

2008-09-06T17:15:00.004-05:00

The day started with getting to Dylan's soccer game by 9 AM. It was the first of three games he played today. A little much in the Texas heat, but then I guess I am not six. I have to get used to typing six since his birthday was just yesterday.

After Dylan's first game, Eric and I headed for home so I could listen to Bloomsburg, my alma mater on the Internet. Today they played California of PA, the number 5 ranked team in Division II football. What a game. We were ahead at the end of the first half 14-0. California came on strong in the third quarter but they just didn't have enough to pull it out. My Huskies won, 24-17. We're beginning the season with a great 2-0 record. I am already looking forward to playoffs. :-)

Dylan's Birthday

2008-09-05T20:29:00.003-05:00

Today I spent the whole day in the world of a five year old who was high on the excitement of celebrating his sixth birthday. Oh, my! I conveniently forgot what little boys are made of. I don't think he sat still more than the time he was in my car going to school and then back in my car while driving to dinner tonight. He was a wild child, giggling, laughing, jumping up and down. His energy level made me tired just watching.

Thank goodness he was fairly settled for school. Settled at least until 2:05 today when the fire alarm went off and we all had to trek outside and wait for 30 minutes while the determination of what caused the alarm to go off was made. It had something to do with the outside sprinklers, but goodness, by the time we all got back inside there were more than a few excited children.

As soon as everyone got back inside and settled, Dylan handed his kindergarten class cupcakes for his birthday. Thank goodness there was enough time for that, because failure to eat those cupcakes might have caused a major meltdown for birthday boy.

Pictures will have to wait until tomorrow. As soon as dinner was over, Dylan, Leigh, Shane and Cole went off to watch Shane play hockey in Frisco. Tomorrow Dylan has 3 soccer games. I hope he stays awake!!

Politcal campaigns

2008-09-03T19:51:00.002-05:00

I never cease to be amazed at what comes out during political campaigns. One candidate attacks another, but when he is challenged on a similar area, it is suddenly a different story. This is a quote from the McCain campain today.
“The McCain campaign will have no further comment about our long and thorough process,” Schmidt said, lashing out at “the old boys’ network” that he says runs media organizations.

I am laughing at the idea that the news media is an old boy network. Here all this time I thought old boy network described the Grand Old Party. Today McCain insisted the media lay off the children. But that didn't stop him from a wonderful photo op with Bristol Palin and her boyfriend. The whole thing is a little bit of an enigma. The Palin's oppose sex education or the distibution of condoms to teenagers. Yet here they are faced with an unexpected grandchild, a young daughter forced to grow up faster than is needed and the desire for all of us to look the other way, not question, not comment, just believe that Sarah Palin is the best possible person for the second highest position in US government. Perhaps this politcal mother should have taught her daughter about condoms. Why compound the "mistake" of premarital sex with bringing a child into the world when you are barely more than a child yourself? Is choosing your life partner in such a situation a good thing?

Three Days In

2008-08-27T22:22:00.002-05:00

Wow, it's Wednesday night and definitely bed time. I've forgotten the amount of energy it takes to work with little ones on a daily basis. My library is looking better, but still not complete yet. I have a couple of book orders that haven't arrived yet and there are a few other things that still have to be finished in the library, but what a place it is. I can't say it enough. The windows are phenomenal. There is something almost magical about them, the outside is inside. The grass on my side of the building is still germinating, but I look forward to my rows of trees and green, fragrant grass.

On another note, I was swept up in the enthusiasm of the Democratic Convention tonight. Two great speeches were given, one by President Bill Clinton, the other by VP nominee, Joe Biden, who was born in my hometown.

First Day of School

2008-08-24T20:31:00.002-05:00

"Tomorrow is another day," as Scarlet O'Hara once told us. It's also another start of school for me. There have been lots of first days of school in my life, first as a student, then as a teacher, then as a mom with two children, then as a librarian and tomorrow will be the first day of kindergarten for my grandson, Dylan. I am excited that he and I will be going to school together every day.

I am thrilled to be starting another year as a librarian, my 13th, in a brand new building. We still have books coming in, and computers that are not 100% operational, but things are moving along smoothly and I look forward to having kids in the library before too long.

New and beautiful

2008-08-16T22:52:00.005-05:00

I returned to work officially on August 13. It wasn't exactly what I expected as contractors were still working on electric for the computers in the library, so there was not much I could do in there. I did get help moving some shelves so the layout is looking the way I want it too. The room is breathtaking. The library is not particularly large, but feels expansive because of the high ceilings and wonderful windows. For the first three days, the room was cluttered with my boxes and the tools and materials of several electrical contractors. I am happy to say that they finally finished up on Friday afternoon. The floors will be cleaned and waxed this weekend so it will be ready for the children in just a week.

Eric came up on Friday and moved a lot of my boxes and helped me empty them. I have very little storage space so I'll have to be judicious about what I keep and what I don't keep. I will definitely need a place to store my seasonal decorations.

The next week will be busy as I hustle to get books and materials in their place. I can't wait to see the kids and their reaction to this beautiful new building.

My books arrived on Friday and the boxes were placed inside the library so the floors in the hallway would be clear. Can't wait to open them and start shelving the new books.

Russia vs Georgia

2008-08-11T17:36:00.002-05:00

I am curious as to how our president can remain in China at games which should have been held elsewhere, while Russia seeks to annihilate a former nation of the soviet block because of their interest in relationships with western nations. No question that the timing on Russia's part was impeccable. The start of the Olympics have captured the eyes of the world, with many world leaders in attendance.
The last six months of W's presidency--which so far have been less than stellar--pretty much like the other 7 and a half years and an American economy at the brink of recession brought on by an elongated and unecessary war in Iraq have our nation distracted. Can we not see that we must do something here. Georgia is a nation that seeks to be democratic and aligned with other democratic nations, but it seems unlikely that we will do much as a nation to help the situation. We were quick to jump into Iraq, a country that seems to have little desire to be a democratic nation, prodded by false allegations and inexcusable mistakes by the people who are supposed to be good at gathering intelligence.

It is time for change in Washington. I only hope it doesn't come too late.

Early Rising

2008-08-10T07:07:00.000-05:00

It's about 7 AM on a Sunday morning. I've been up for about an hour. Nothing really too new for me, I've always been an early riser. I do admit to learning to sleep in a little on weekends as I grow older, but since surgery 6-7 hours is about all I can spend in the bed. I am not a back sleeper, and it's still a little hard for me to sleep on my side.

I've always been convinced that early morning is the best time of the day. Around here it is quiet. My step-son, Ian is an early riser too, but his goal is always to find out who is awake and who will fill him with cereal. Ian is about to turn 24, but with the mental age of about a three year old. His needs are basic and he really lives by his biological clock. When it gets dark, he sleeps and when the sun rises, he is up too. Give him a bowl of cheerios or rice chex and he is content.

Sunday morning is always my time to catch up on the news, explore the Internet, looking for genealogical connections or interesting blogs that discuss my two favorite things, genealogy or library service for kids. It is also a great time for writing. This is why I love blogs. This past year, I used them with fourth and fifth grade students--and they loved them. Given the opportunity to write "publicly" kids shine. They eat up the comments from other students and often interact with each other's writing. It's a great way to extend Writer's Notebook. One of last year's students actually writes a serial novel in her blog! Now there's an idea, Gayle, if you never get published you could just put your novel right here on the pages of your blog.

One of the interesting things I learned this morning on the Internet is that we DON'T really swallow spiders in our sleep. I can't tell you how relieved I am to learn that fact. Spiders scare me! I am happy to know that I scare them too and wandering near nostrils or a mouth where carbon dioxide is escaping is not one of their favorite things to do! Yeah!! Maybe that will help me sleep later tomorrow.

Shopping at NorthPark

2008-08-09T19:14:00.000-05:00

I hadn't really been out of the house in two weeks, unless you count the visit to Plano Presby to get the staples out. I was tired of being housebound, so we sent Ian to grandma's house and went to the mall. I love Northpark. I mean, who wouldn't love a mall with Neiman's, Nordstrom, Macy's, Dillards, Coldwater Creek--and of course Build a Bear. I think my husband, Eric, likes that store even more than Dylan and I do. When I was in the hospital Eric went there and had a black lab made, put it in nurse's scrubs and christened her Lizzie, one of my nicknames. I usually end up taking my build-a-bear babies to school for my library. I have a bear named Mo, who during hockey season sports a Stars uniform. He appeared on Tiger News Network this past year, when the Stars were in the playoffs. The students just loved him.

Back to Northpark! I splurged on makeup at Nordstrom. Afterall, I go back to school in a week--gotta look good. Of course, I also visited Bath and Body works and stopped by Coldwater Creek. Saw a great shirt there, that I have to have, but I am stilling thinking about color. The white one is nice, but I love the blue one--which one shall it be? If you are familiar with Northpark you know that Coldwater Creek is right next door to the Apple store--Eric's favorite place at the mall. We didn't go in today, though. The lines are still long for the Apple phone--my goodness--what's the big deal? It's a phone, people. Eric said they are making 800,000 a week and still can't keep up with the demand. We didn't even try to go in--some of those line waiters looked hostile.

Next weekend I am going to the mall with Leigh and Dylan in tow. It's tax free weekend and Dylan starts kindergarten at La Villita on August 25. Since it is a uniform school Dylan needs to stock up on red, blue, white and green polos and khaki pants.

Confessions of a Mad Writer

2008-08-05T23:18:00.000-05:00

Writing is comforting like a soft pillow with just the right concaves, like an old stuffed animal that you carried through childhood, like a Hallmark card from a dear friend. Writing is thought provoking like a sound bite from the evening news, like a campaign slogan, like a comment from a colleague. Writing is obsessive, like too many potato chips, like my need to have my bed look just right when I make it, like my constant search for another ancestor to help me define more clearly who I am.
Writing is a disease.

Recently I’ve been writing morning, noon and night. While this is probably due to my participation in the National Writing Project Summer Institute, I am tentatively hoping the frequent writing continues long after the institute. I say tentatively because I am beginning to experience some of the symptoms of mad writer’s disease. Let me share those symptoms with you, in case you think you may be suffering from the same malady.

First, you think about writing all the time. This symptom manifests itself in many ways. You are driving down the highway with a definite destination in mind. Suddenly you get an idea for a story in your head and before you know it you are ten miles past your exit and hoping you can think of a great excuse for being late. A second manifestation of this symptom is ignoring your spouse. You can hear a faint din similar to the low hum of a neighbor’s lawn mower; nothing that’s particularly bothersome but certainly nothing you have to pay close attention to either. That is until you pre-writing thoughts are shattered by your husband firing your name in rapid succession like gunfire at the shooting range. “Gayle, Gayle, Gayle—are you listening to me?”
Let’s not forget the failure to separate the darks from the whites because you are pondering how to apply the rule of three to your writing. The first time your husband has to wear pink briefs you are sure to be reminded of you illness. I’ve already gotten out of my bed in the middle of the night, and out of the shower, soapy and dripping, to write something down. I spent a large part of a recent interview formulating, in my head, a persuasive piece based on a single phrase uttered by the interviewer.

The second symptom is the shameless use of your friends and family as the subjects for pieces of writing. My son has already informed me that if I put his slut story in print he’ll find a way to get even. I don’t know why it bothers him so much. I am sure every seven year old boy has confused those rolly, polly little bugs for sluts. I hope the mere mention of it here doesn’t drive him to revenge. My grandson has been the subject of many of my past stories—but thank goodness, he’s too young to protest. For her fortieth birthday last October I presented my good friend, Amy, with what I thought was the perfect gift—a tribute piece to our friendship. Thankfully, she agreed, cried all over her present, and then gave me a huge hug. Today, it was thoughts of a Konni story—she’s a librarian friend who just accepted a new position. Formulating the writing in my head took me right past my exit.

Carrying your writing notebook everywhere is the third symptom. You whip it out like a tourist brandishes his camera—snapping shots at moments, unexpected and sacred, catching everyone off guard. The checker at the grocery store asked me the other day why I was taking notes. Perhaps she was insecure in her job. More than a few people turned heads when I whipped out my phone and snapped photos of the turtles in the concrete pond at North Park mall. The photos were immediately followed by the appearance of my notebook so I could free write about turtles.

Lots of lovely little turtles, turtles in water, turtles out of water, turtles in a pile, turtles under the sun lamp—sun lamp?—note to self, research why turtles need sunlamps—are they bronzing their shells? There sure are a lot of turtles in that very small pond. Maybe I should write an anonymous letter to the SPCA.
All this free writing is reminding me of a college friend who always had a smile on her face, a kind word for everyone, and a song in her heart. Unfortunately the song that most frequently came to her lips was Climb Every Mountain from the Sound of Music. She’d sing it in the student union. She’d sing it on the way to class. She’d sing it at frat parties. It didn’t take long before all the members of my boyfriend’s fraternity referred to her as Climb Every. Will “free writer” replace “Shorty” as my nickname—not freedom writer, grant writer or published writer—just free writer?
That brings me to my last symptom—revision aversion. You’ve done some pre-writing activities, come up with a great topic, taken out your notebook and free wrote until your wrist was numb. You took the best lines and put them into a piece you think is great—but is it? You revised, used brush strokes, applied the rule of three, and sprinkled it with lively action verbs. Just when you think you have a final copy, your kindly response group has suggested you might want to move a few things around, add some words, take some away, and the whole process begins again.

I have the disease—and I don’t want to get well.

It's a New Day

2008-08-05T11:25:00.000-05:00

Yesterday all physical remnants of my recent surgery were removed. Wow! What a relief! I am still very tender, but physically, I haven't felt better in years. It will be a real joy to return to school in a week, minus that hernia and feeling at least ten years younger. For those of you who haven't heard, I am changing schools again. After four fantastic years at Freeman, I am off to open another new school library at La Villita Elementary. I can not wait! The building is positively beautiful and the library is a central focal point with it's raised natural wood ceilings and window walls.

Open Hernia Surgery

2008-08-03T20:55:00.000-05:00

I had an incisional hernia repair last Monday. After two days in the hospital I was released on Wednesday afternoon and returned home with staples and a wound drain. I have a doctor's appointment tomorrow and hopefully both will come out. All in all, the experience was not too bad. I don't remember one thing from the OR. Those pre-op drugs are good!!

I had an IV and catheter in until midday on Tuesday when both came out. I haven't been taking anything but a strong NAISAID for pain and am taking a strong antibiotic to prevent infection. I don't like being sick or restricted but am trying really hard to stick close to a comfy chair and my bed. I am wearing a band which the doctor recommends using for at least 4-6 weeks. I won't argue. It is nice to be waited on!!

The Theater

2008-07-05T23:13:00.000-05:00

I attended a performance of High School Musical at the Dallas Summer Theater. It was an energetic if somewhat chaotic performance. There were lots of young girls in the audience who were very attentive to the entire show. More interesting was the production going on in the ladies room. Four rest room attendants ran the coming and going like the director of a Broadway show—Arms motioning, voices commanding, “This way, ladies, two openings this way.” I felt as though I was in a commercial for Visa Check card. You know the one, where motion is fast, furious and controlled until someone tries to pay with cash or a check and everything stops. I will say they kept things moving, like a finely oiled machine—in and out in no time. I think they need these ladies at the ball park, Texas Stadium and the AA Center.

A Writing Fool

2008-06-28T15:55:00.000-05:00

I've spent the last three weeks at North Star of Texas National Writing Project Summer Institute. What an amazing experience this has been. The opportunity to share my writing and hear the stories and poetry of an other 17 women has been life affirming and emotional, truly a transforming opportunity.

Here's one of my poems, inspired by a brief lesson on the Alamo.

I am
a spiritual place
where many feet have trod
none so remembered as that day in 1836.

I am
a place of God
that has witnessed ungodly acts
and stand in testament for all to know what happened here.

I am
the dirt that took in the blood
of men from two places
who met here on that fateful day
and fought to the death.

I am
the walls that echoed the screams of fear and pain
that offered resistance for many days
until our noble efforts failed.

I am
the ceiling that bore the cannon and musket fire
until the night stars looked down on those inside
counseling them the end was near.

I am
the air, staid and still
that enfolds you now
as you remember what happened here.

I am
the Alamo.

Gayle Baar
North Star of Texas Summer Institute 2008

Crowns

2008-05-04T00:22:00.000-05:00

Eric and I attended the Greater Lewisville Community Theater production of Crowns tonight. Teresa Ferrell Buntain, director, is a long time friend from R. L. Turner High School. The play portrays the importance of hats among African American woman of the south. The play continues next weekend too. It would be a great Mother's Day present to share this play.

I was reminded of my own mother's love for hats and how I loved to go to the hat shop with her. As they performed the old gospel hymn, His Eye is on the Sparrow, which was my mother's favorite, I could see her sitting at her organ, singing this song. As for the hats--apparently I thought they were pretty cool too!

Travis

2008-05-04T00:15:00.000-05:00

This is my dog, Travis. You may notice that Travis thinks he's human. He enjoys getting up on the bed, put his head on the pillow and cover up with the comforter. He's a cute little Pomeranian. Right now he is sporting his spring hair cut, which makes him look very "foxy."

Stars Hockey

2008-05-03T00:51:00.000-05:00

We lost tonight. There were some pretty stupid calls or lack of calls, but still we should have been able to put the series away tonight. Let's hope they can do that on Sunday and move on to the Western Conference championship game with Detroit. It will get interesting around here if that happens since my husband was born in raised in a Detroit suburb and is a loyal Red Wing fan.

2008-04-26T18:10:00.000-05:00

Welcome to my blog. Nothing particular in mind, just the idle ramblings of genealogy loving, book toting, librarian and grandmother.