Thursday, December 25, 2008
Merry Christmas
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.
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Happy Holidays!
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.
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
Sunday, November 30, 2008
The Season's Over
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.
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.
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Happy THANKSgiving
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.
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.
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Of Life and Death
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
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
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.
Monday, October 6, 2008
Please Watch this Video
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
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
Sunday, October 5, 2008
Another Huskies Win
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!!
GO HUSKIES BEAT THE WARRIORS!!
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