Love is All Around You

Three hundred sixty-five days ago I set out on writing mission. Inspired by my friend Helen who was completing a 2015 daily blog, I decided it was a good way to commit myself to daily writing. I had been writing on several different blogs each with varied focus, but this was a chance to capture an entire year, one day at a time. I also resolved to look at life through a more positive lens, and thus the theme of love, and finding as much of it as possible, became part of my mission. Looking back on the year, I am convinced more than ever that love is truly all around us. We just need to look for it, and be open to receiving it. Love, peace, health and happiness to all in 2017.

Love is all around us

in the laughter of a child

in the comfort of a parent

in the warm touch of a lover

it is in the sunny blue sky

and the chirping birds

kindness from a stranger

learning something new

it is in the joy of a good book

and the lyrics of a new song

sweetness of fresh fruit

writing a poem

Love is all around us

in the birth of a child

in the holidays with family

in the blessing of true friendship

it is in the nuzzle of a pup

and the rustle of the leaves

yoga and meditation

crashing waves on the shore

it is the overcoming of fear

and the acceptance of great loss

change when it's for the best

letting go because you know you have to

Love is all around us

Love is all around us

2017- Haikus

This will be my year

my perspective is in check

I'm where I should be

trust, internal voice 

breathing in and breathing out

faith, higher power

creativity

writing, reading, exploring

true inspiration

Image retrieved from UNC School of Medicine

This is the New Year

I haven't been a fan of pop music since I was a teenager, but every now and then a song catches my attention. Usually, if it does, it's because the sound is unique like Paralyzer by Finger Eleven a few years ago. Or, it could be something about the lyrics that has me singing in my head. I am a sucker for a positive message song. A Great Big World gave us one back in 2014, with This is the New Year, and coincidentally it popped up in the shuffle on my iPod today. I was driving down the road, jeep all open, and a chill in the air. The day before New Year's Eve, I found myself reflecting. I just know 2017 is going to be a great year. I can feel it.

Another year you made a promise

I did. I made a promise to make writing an everyday part of my life, and I did. I wrote on this blog nearly everyday, looking for love and finding it in many ways all around me.

Another chance to turn it all around

Every new year is a chance to turn things around. Sometimes it's a small thing, sometimes it's everything. For me it's something small, a personal change. It's not a resolution, just a more keen awareness about something.

And do not save this for tomorrow
Embrace the past and you can live for now

I have not yet mastered the control of staying in the present. I'm working on it. But I have certainly learned to let go of a lot, to learn from the past and leave it there. For this year, I need to work on trying harder not to live too much for the future. Have you ever heard someone say if you wait for the perfect time, it will never come. So part of this is seizing the day when appropriate.

Speak louder than the words before you

And give them meaning no one else has found

My writing circle, cheers to us. I am so proud of how much we've grown as writers, as friends, as a collective voice. I can feel our power. Our voices are getting stronger. Each year we have added another devotion. The group. The blog. The retreats. The Sanibel Island Writers Conference. Sounds like at least one of us will produce a big piece of writing this year. Maybe more than one of us!

The role we play is so important

We are the voices of the underground

This year, I made a huge realization about the work we do at PACE. Our organization is speaking loudly, and we are bringing the needs of women and girls to a bigger audience. There is so much more to be done, but it is important work. Right here, right now, I feel I am right where I should be.

Say everything you've always wanted
Be not afraid of who you really are

In the end we have each other
And that's at least one thing worth living for

I maybe the freest I have ever been to say what I need to say. My husband and my family have always afforded me a safe place to be who I need to be and speak freely from my heart. The amazing women of my writing group have created the safest circle of trust for writing and sharing. And I can even say, my boss and co-workers empower each other to be the most authentic and genuine best we can be. It's given me the confidence and security to make some important decisions this year.

Let's tear the walls down that divide us

Our country has a lot of work to do this year. We have to navigate some rough waters, but I believe we will find a way. We have to.

This is the new year
A new beginning

Here's to a healthy and happy and prosperous New Year. Here's to a more peaceful nation and global community. Here's to respect for our earth, and our people. Happy New Year.

Final Days

It's hard to believe another year is coming to an end. That means this blog project is winding down as well. I have been feeling guilty lately because I've been struggling to keep up. I got quite a bit behind, several times over the past month or two, and I've been looking forward to the final days of this project.

So I took a look back, revisited the first few months and kept going from the start all the way to current day. Now, I'm prepared to cut myself some slack. From January 1st, all the way through August, I never skipped a day. For eight months straight I wrote every single day. Even since then I kept up most of the time. I have decided, instead of kicking myself about the slip-ups, I'm going to celebrate the accomplishment.

Though my creative inspiration wasn't always there, though the writing sometimes felt like a burden, I have completed a piece of writing for every day of the year. I have written tons of poems, reflected on my son's eighteenth birthday and senior year. I have explored nature and processed my experience teaching college. I have celebrate girls, written about love and friendship.

I have found, even though we have had so much tragedy in 2016, love truly was all around me.

This Photo

Earlier in the year, I did a post about reading photographs. I always planned to get back to doing more if it, but you move on and you forget. Tonight I was flipping through photos and came across this one. I stop and stare at it every time it surfaces. It says so much to me as a mom, as a writer.

It is of course, a photo of my son, and there are some immediate things that strike me about it. Then, there are some things you won't see without my guidance. Things I see when I look a little deeper...

The photo was taken on a family vacation to St. Augustine. We traveled with another family we are friends with, both the kids and adults. The weather was uncharacteristically cold for the time of year. We went to the beach and ate lunch and walked, but it was too cold to wear swimsuits or go in the water. Jacob rolled up his jeans so he could walk on the shoreline without getting his pants wet.

Jacob has deep and beautiful blue eyes, so we often buy him shirts in the color he's wearing. The bright blue of his shirt, the faded blue jeans, and the color of the sky and water, all make this photo so blue. Even the metal railing he's leaning on takes on a blueish-gray hue.  He has my curls, and here his hair was grown out and a bit unruly. It has an I don't care kind of feel to it. He's looking at me so seriously. If you don't know him, you might interpret the look as a disgust about my attempt to take his photo. As his mom, I can tell you it's an unassuming vanity. He'll look my way, but he's not going to smile with approval. He's sort of posing.

Notice the way he is sitting. He appears to be relaxed. Both shoulders back, and his leg dropped. I'm not so sure how relaxed he was. As a high school freshman, approaching the end of the year (this was spring break), he was just starting to figure things out. He struggled all through middle school, and he was gaining some confidence as he found high school to be a place he felt more like himself. His face is fuller than it is today. He was definitely starting to look older, but he did not yet have the definition in his face, he does today. His skin hadn't cleared up yet, and his shoulders hadn't squared off.

And his hand. The way his hand is hanging forward, the way he's holding his fingers looks just like his dad. It's funny how you notice things like that, things no one else would see.

This photo represents a pivotal time for Jacob, at least in my eyes. It was the last time I'd see him more as a teenager than a young man. I'll cherish this photo forever. It's one of my favorites. It may say more about me as a mom, than it does about him as my son. That's ok.

Quickie

Dig deep, and believe in yourself.

Food, Friends, and Conversation

Never underestimate the joy you get from spending the day with some friends you love, eating good food, and talking.... especially when there is a spectacular view. As this year is coming to an end, I am excited about the prospect of moving forward in our work as a writing circle. I cherish the group, our writing, our talking about writing, our camaraderie.

Happiness is having friends...

to write with
to laugh with
to eat with
to drink with
to enjoy life with
to share with

Buttoning Up and Cleaning Out

It's that time of year. We are getting ready to say goodbye to a year past, and getting ready to start anew. Whereas springtime seems to bring the physical cleaning house, the New Year offers opportunity for reflection- an emotional and spiritual "cleaning." People start to think about changes they want to make in their lives, relationships they want to repair or let go. Of course there is the cliche New Year's resolution still alive and superficially making its way into guilty minds.

While some are conjuring up ways to lose weight, or cleaning out their Facebook friends list, I've begun a small cleaning project of my own. For months, maybe even over a year, I've been wanting to clean out my email subscriptions. I know this sounds minuscule and inconsequential, but it's something I've been meaning to do for some time, and I finally got started this morning. There's more than just the obvious reason of being sick of the ridiculous number of emails on a daily basis. It's the bombardment of commercialism and distraction. Do I need to know every item on sale in every store? Do I need more e-zines and newsletters than I can read in a week's time? I get emails from stores I haven't shopped in for over a year, and updates from websites I once ordered one item from, once, a long long time ago.

So you see, by cleaning house, I'm not just reducing the number of emails in my email box, I'm reducing the clutter of senseless distraction I encounter each day. It's just one more step in my long-standing goal to continue to simplify. If I really need something, it's not going to matter to me if it is on sale or not. I'm going to buy it. If I happen to catch a sale, great! I don't need to know every sale at every store and website. All it does is entice you to spend money when you don't need to, or that you need something you really don't. To tell you the truth, all you need is a calendar and a list of holidays and you'll know every time there is a sale.

Also being cut, Linkedin. Sorry folks, don't be insulted when I don't accept your request to connect. I rarely even use Linkedin. If I happen to go on and I see I've received a request, I'll accept it if I know you. But months could go by before I even see it. Doesn't mean I don't like you or I'm ignoring you. I'm also eliminating the Garrison Institute and the National Parks emails. Both of these really interest me, but rarely is there something I can capitalize on, as both require extensive travel. If I'm planning a relevant trip, I can certainly visit their websites. I've eliminated a bunch of others related to swim, as my son has officially completed his senior swim season and I likely won't have any use for those anymore.

There are others, I know they'll show up in the next few days, and I'll continue to eliminate. Maybe in 2017, instead of opening my email and deleting half of what's there, I'll actually be interested in reading what pops in!

Celebrity Love

I find it fascinating the way people develop such personal attachments to celebrities... of all kinds. We become so engrossed in their stories, in their characters, in their achievements. Of course, if they produce something we love like music or unbeatable characters, we feel a loss of their art. If they were athletes, we lose the adrenalin and excitement of watching them compete.

There are memes going all around the internet, and videos and social media posts about how much 2016 sucks. There's so much craziness that has happened this year. See the John Oliver video below- it's hilarious. But it seems we've lost so many of our favorite celebrities this year, and just a week before the end of the year, we've lost our favorite princess.

The emotion over the loss of Mohammad Ali, and Prince, and David Bowie, and Carrie Fischer, George Michael and Glen Frey, and so many others (I wrote a post about Harry Morgan from MASH) are all totally understandable. What fascinates me is the RIP posts on Facebook, the memorials, and the stickers on the back of cars. Please don't misunderstand my comments as judgmental or critical. I just find it extraordinary that people feel strongly enough about people they don't even know, to change their profile pics, create living memorials on their vehicles, and post personal messages. I've never felt the urge to do anything like that. What I have felt like, is writing about the loss, or listening to music by a singer or musician we've lost, to celebrate their art and be reminded of what they've left us.

I guess everyone has their way of processing loss. We find such connection in the characters our favorite actors have created and the music made by our favorite performing artists.  We take pride in the fight of our favorite athletes' rise to the top. This year did suck in a lot of ways. We've lost a lot of greats. The tear-jerking videos during all the awards shows are going to be tough to watch this year. So long 2016. Let's hope 2017 is healthy and prosperous for all of us.

Creekside Observations

crackle and spark of a freshly ignited campfire

dribble and trickle of creek water 

in small rippling, graduating circles

a large tree, split into two separate trunks

reaching out in opposite directions 

one arching over the creek like a serpent's head

I wish I took a photo 

the kerplunk of a fish, or maybe a turtle

an A-shaped gateway for kayakers

formed by two tall and skinny trees

leaning into each other at a point

the perfect triangular vertex

the golfball-like domes barely peeking

above the surface of the creek, watching

canoers, kayakers, and perhaps most courageous

exposed, stand-up paddle boarders 

children laughing, running, bicycle riding

families, large and small

some celebrating with festive music

others talking quietly around the fire

a father and his two sons try their luck

with poles and bait and lure

while another man tosses a primitive line

with a hook and piece of bread

the former, hard on his luck

the latter dragging in his dinner

the day comes to an end slowly out here

every minute of lasting light, a chance

to take one more walk

to catch one more fish

to paddle one more time

and the night falls, and the fires burn

the aroma of dinners of all kinds 

are carried down creek with smoke

out here, dinner is served 

under the moon and the stars and the trees

calmness spreads with the departure of the mosquitos

the coolness in the air brings everyone close to the fire

chatter and marshmallow, cocoa and cake

long stretches of silence accompany the children

who have retired to their tents

while the grown-ups stare into the flames instead of screens

until the chatter is replaced with yawns 

deep inhalation of fresh air and heavy eyelids

send everyone off to bed

in a tent, on the dirt, under the stars

The Hard Truth

It's hard to be a kid sometimes, even an 18-year-old one.

Over the weekend my son made a mistake. A pretty big one. Not life threatening or hurtful, just a pretty big mistake. Let's leave it at that. I took him out for a little while yesterday, and he was dropping hints for me to ask about it. You know what that's like, don't you? When you want to tell someone something, but you don't know how or what to say, so you bait them into asking you. I think it's a protective strategy our brain uses,without conscious awareness. I wasn't picking up on it until we got in the car to come home, and he told me he didn't "feel right." I was starting to feel the vibe. I knew he was a little off. So I asked him if he was feeling well physically, if he was ok. He said he was. So I asked him if there was something on his mind, something emotional bothering him. That's when he finally let it out. Welled-up eyes, and increased heart beat visible through his shirt, he told me. I asked if he felt better having let it out. He said no, but I knew why. He still had to tell his dad. Ugh, telling your dad the truth about something you're not so proud of is often worse than the consequences that naturally come along with the mistake in and of itself. Take it from me. I know.

Never mind what he did, it's not important. What followed was an additional 24 hours' anticipation of his dad's reaction, because we had company and there was no time alone. I was feeling sick to my stomach in anticipation too. I don't know if it was just mom sympathy, or if it was actual empathy because the fear of having to tell my dad something I knew would disappoint him, was all too familiar. But this morning, I insisted my son go talk to his dad before leaving for work. My husband and I would be home together and I couldn't harbor the secret, nor did I feel good about it weighing on my son's mind all day at work. And he told him. And my husband got angry. He went on a rant, and my son took it bravely and with humility. Then, as I tried to pull my heart back down from up in my throat, my husband surprised me. "Jacob, wait. Come here," he said. And he pulled him in and hugged him. "I know you didn't mean for any of this to happen. It's ok." The consequences will be what they will be, but my son will always know his mom and dad love him and we've always got his back.

Come Camping

Come camping
where the blue herons tiptoe along the banks of the creek
exposed by the retreated water in the dry winter season
and the ganglion roots of the old cypress who stand above
drip down from the majestic trunks into the water
like dangling spaghetti strings
where the puffy white clouds in the powder blue sky
reflect down onto the water, a mirror image of the heavens
where the birds soar high above the shady canopy
and the nature lovers bask below in communion
to enjoy the gentle breezes around a toasty campfire
where campers delight in hot dogs, better than any at home
or in a ballpark, cooked outside over an open fire ring
where the glory of the sunrise and sunset
are gazed at through treetops instead of windows
where the living room floor is made of dirt
and the dining room always has a view

Wrapper, Not Rapper

I'm not sure why, but I really enjoy wrapping presents. My husband theorizes it's because I didn't grow up in a big family. He, on the other hand, grew up in a house of five kids. It was a lot of wrapping at Christmastime, especially as the second oldest. Anyhow, he was happy to let me take on all the wrapping duties since we moved in together, back in the 90's.

A little bit like when you get compliments on cooking a delicious meal, I enjoyed the oohs and ahs about how beautifully wrapped our gifts were. I learned to tie a beautiful bow on traditional squared box when I worked one holiday season at Godiva Chocolates. And for years I enjoyed picking up wrapping paper and gift trimmings at the after Christmas sales. It didn't even matter whether or not I needed any. A few years ago I quit doing that, and I'm finally working down my supply. Now that I have four nieces and three nephews all under the age of 15, there's lots to wrap!

For a while, things were slowing down with the growing popularity of gift cards and the use of gift bags, and the lack of young children around. This year all the rolls came out for the little ones. (I even finished two of them.) My husband insists the young kids get gift wrap, not bags. "The whole fun of it when your a kid," he says, "is tearing open the packages." So a wrapping I have been.

When I got to the last gift, which just happened to be for my (almost) three-year-old niece, Natalie, I was particularly proud of my wrapping job. I don't think I have ever had a box wrap with such perfection- the angles, the creases. It was so satisfying. It was just like the ones you see in photos and on TV. Lucky Natalie!

And lucky me, for being so blessed this holiday season with a loving and growing family. Merry Christmas and Happy Hanukkah to all who celebrate this joyous season!

Christmas

They came, they camped. They got new bicycles from their grandparents, and they went fishing with their dad. The two young boys even caught a couple, a tilapia and a catfish. Like so many kids, they enjoyed the day before Christmas with one part of their family and planned to be with another part on Christmas Day. The adults always have the whole thing figured out in a way they think is fair, or right, or what they want, or what's most convenient. There was laughter and running, playing and tree-climbing. And dirt. Lots of dirt!

Eventually, everyone washed up and put on clean clothes, and they all went out for dinner. Camping doesn't always mean roughing it all day, each day. Snuggled close in the booth, the youngest rested his head on his aunt's shoulder. He was tired, but he also seemed despondent. His aunt asked him if he was okay, if something was wrong. "I just miss my mom," he responded with innocence. It didn't matter what his aunt thought if his mom, what anyone in his dad's family thought of her. He was a little boy who wanted his mommy. It didn't matter to him she was a mess. He probably didn't even understand. He leaned in close to his aunt, and she held him in tight, kissing him on the head. She understood his sadness, maybe more than anyone else at the table. He shook it off and ate his dinner, wiping every last bit of ketchup off the plate with his final french fry. On the way back to camp, he fell asleep in the car and was sent right to his tent without argument when they got there.

The next morning, after opening presents, the boys and their dad went home so they could get ready to spend Christmas with the mom they were missing. Their time together was now reduced to an eight hour visit on Sundays. Lucky for her, Christmas was on a Sunday this year. They were reluctant to leave camp, but took their gifts and hugged everyone goodbye, perhaps excited to see their mom the following day. Grandma and Grandpa, and the aunt and uncle said goodbye with sadness. They wondered how the boys would be spending Christmas while the rest of the family was sitting around a cozy dinner table at their dad's sister's house. But everyone said goodbye again, and they were off.

Early the next morning, there were only two tents left. The aunt woke to the sound of a cell phone ringing in the next tent. She could hear her mother-in-law hollering, "Turn it off! Turn it off!" It was too late. The aunt and uncle had risen to the sound of the phone and the birds chirping and squawking high in the trees. The phone was silenced, and so were the campers. Then the aunt was startled by the sound of her husband's voice.

"Oh my..." She responded to him before he could finish.

"What? What?" And he turned his cell phone in her direction. He was sharing a text from his brother. The boys' mother had been arrested in the middle of the night and was in jail with no bond. That's why her father-in-law's phone was ringing so early in the morning. And while they all celebrated, because the boys would be able to stay with them for Christmas, and not be forced to spend the day with their emotionally unstable mom, the aunt felt sick. They all knew this would be coming eventually. She agreed the boys were better off with their dad. But she also knew they weren't being forced to spend time with their mom at all.

Rhyme

Why doesn't nature rhyme with mature or with stature
but mature rhymes with manure, and stature with catcher
why are there two l's in vanilla but only one in manila

this language is totally crazy

Why does muscle rhyme with hustle and tussle
and hassle rhyme with castle and facile
why are there d's in ladder but t's in flatter

try mastering this language as your second

Why doesn't waddle rhyme with saddle
but saddle rhymes with cattle and rattle
why are there so many words with multiple meanings

have I lost you yet, just wait

Why does bow rhyme with so and also with now
and fly rhymes with lie, and buy, and high
why are there three ways to say two (or to, or too)

I could go on and on, but I won't
I'm done (that rhymes with nun, not cone)

Getting Ready for Break

We ended a high-energy, crazy work week with a nice low key holiday party today. The weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas break is quite possibly the most challenging time in a school. The kids are hyped up, the staff is tired, and the semester draws to a close (at least this year it does). We celebrated today with an everyone bring some food party and a Secret Santa reveal. It was totally laid back, and a nice time for us to chat and enjoy each other's company over good eats.

The food was yummy, and the gifts were fun, but more importantly it was a reminder that I work with great people. Secret Santa is a blast because we all know and love each other- we're a complete staff of about 21. There's something about working with all women that's different and pretty terrific. Even all the leaders in the organization are women. There is true camaraderie and care amongst all of us. Saying goodbye at the end of the night felt like leaving your family to go away. Some of us will likely see each other over break, but it would be totally okay if we don't. In a likely-to-be-very-quick ten days, we'll all be back again to continue doing what we do.

In the meantime, a restful break and peace to all of my extended work family.

Mind Over Matters of the Heart

Sometimes. Sometimes it's really hard being an educator, an administrator, someone who has the power to make decisions that impact young people's lives. It is a huge responsibility, one often taken for granted and left unconsidered by those who criticize people in the teaching profession. It can be very difficult balancing the needs of one student with the needs of the entire school community. Today we had to make some of these heavy decisions, and it's all still weighing on my mind.

Despite the misunderstanding by many that we are a school for "bad girls," we really don't have much in the way of violence in our school. We work with girls who have experienced trauma in their lives, and the behaviors common in people who have sustained trauma. We rarely have fights, no more than, or probably less than typical middle or high schools. I have been working there for almost three years, and there had only been two fights during that time. This week we had two.

I won't get into the details of the incidences, as we have lots of rules about confidentiality. The point I'm trying to make is that following disciplinary hearings, we had to make the determination about whether the four students involved would return to school or be expelled. There are so many factors that go into the decision. Of course there is the event itself, but then there is the well-being of each of the participants and then what's best for the safety and well-being of the rest of the students in the school. Finally, there needs to be consideration for the safety and wellness of the faculty and staff, as well.

No matter how you slice it, someone always loses out. Often when girls are being expelled, it's with the knowledge that we still are the best place for them but we can no longer serve them and the others safely with their presence. Other times, they remain with really good intentions and things don't work out as everyone hoped, and we find ourselves right back where we were with another incident. On occasion, we make the decision that the student really is best remaining with us, and there is no expected harm or danger to others, and it all works out in the end. But it's rarely win-win.

My heart is heavy over the dismissal of some students. I know we could help, but the timing and the mix of students just isn't right. Sometimes, we just need to acknowledge that we see something in our students they don't yet see in themselves, and that means they're not ready to make a change. We have to be okay with the decision to let them go, and we hope they will remain engaged with our outreach counseling and services. We never completely cut ties, that decision is up to the student. We can only hope everything we have accomplished with them so far, plants a seed that will eventually grow when the time is right.

Sometimes we make decisions we know in our minds are the right ones to make, but they break our hearts anyway.

Micro Memoir

I can't believe I never wrote about this one before...

I was new to Lehigh Acres. My husband, my son, and I moved into our brand new house during Labor Day weekend that year. Jacob was just seven and in the 2nd grade. My husband hadn't quite closed shop on his business on the east coast, so he was gone a lot. This happened to be one of those evenings I waited for him to pull in the driveway late night. I was watching TV and talking on the phone to Jacob's teacher while he was taking a shower. Mrs. Schmidt was concerned about some of Jacob's behaviors popping up in the classroom, due to what she was starting to realize was boredom. I barely knew Kim at the time, but we would later become friends. We were trouble shooting when suddenly, "smack! ahhhh!" came from the bathroom and I went running. When I got there, it looked like a horror film scene. Jacob was crying at the top of his lungs, breathless and unable to tell me what happened. There was blood across the bath tub, and splattered on the wall and the shower curtain. It was also dripping down his naked little body and turning the puddled water in the tub a runny water-colored red. After further investigation, I determined Jacob had slipped in the tub and clocked his chin on the tub, splitting it open. The blood was dripping from his chin. Meanwhile, I'm trying to ask his teacher where to go and what to do and Jacob was wailing in the background. I had no idea how to get to the hospital, and she wasn't sure what to tell me because she didn't have any children of her own. I politely hung up with her and ran back to Jacob. I was able to get him calm enough so the wailing dialed down to sobbing, and eventually whimpering, as I tried to dry him off and get him dressed. We hopped in the car and went over to the local ER where they glued his chin together with liquid stitches and sent us on our way. Everyone in my family has a scar on their chin from an accident, and Jacob was branded into the family on the scary night alone in our new house.

RIP Harry Morgan

Attention all personnel!

I just love the TV show M*A*S*H. I've made mention of my love of Hawkeye before. He is my favorite TV character of all time. Last night I was saddened by the news Harry Morgan, the actor who played Colonel Potter, past away. He was 96 -years-old, so one could hardly be surprised at the news. But I find myself feeling more and more saddened by the loss of the actors who played the TV characters I most loved as a kid.

My dad always loved M*A*S*H, and my sister and I took a liking to it, probably because my dad watched it. I also remember watching episode after episode of M*A*S*H, early in my marriage. That was long before DVR and Netflix binge watching. This was back when the analog TV and (now) basic cable channels would play the syndicated shows in marathons on late night TV. The characters from the 4077th were some of the best ever, and the show has been unmatched since. Each character can be a post in his/her own. But in memory of Harry Morgan, enjoy this MASH-up of some of Colonel Potter's colloquialisms. And if you're interested in reading more about Morgan's extensive career before and beyond M*A*S*H, read this NY Times article. Rest in peace, sweet man.

Friends of Friends

I have to admit, reading this post reminds me of Deep Thoughts With Jack Handey, the old Saturday Night Live sketch. So be it. It still makes me wonder.

It's weird isn't it, when you meet your friend's other friends? It makes you wonder if you'd ever have become friendly with those people if your mutual friend wasn't in the middle. I've felt this way about a couple of different friends. I just adore them and considered them among my closest, even best friends. Then, I meet some of their friends and wonder, are those friends I would choose for myself?

*I tried to embed a Deep Thoughts video for those who never saw them, or wanted a funny flashback. I wasn't able to, but you can click here for an nbc.com page that has lots of them!

Glow

Late autumn sunset

casts a gold and copper glow

peeking through the trees

Holiday (Un) Cheer

I don't mean to sound like a grouch, but my experience at the grocery store today was really frustrating. I got home and asked my husband if people were really this idiotic or if was I just irritable today. He responded with probably a little bit of both. I'm going to argue, a lot of one and a little of the other. Three pieces of evidence, case in point:

1. People don't know how to navigate grocery store aisles with their carts. It's really just a lot like driving cars on the road, but people don't seem to be able to make that connection. They stop in the middle of the aisle with their carts on a diagonal to scan the shelves and compare prices. I don't fault them for price shopping, but they seem to ignore the fact there are hundreds of other shoppers trying to do the same. Some shoppers also don't know how to turn from one aisle at the end, and into the other. Half the problems in the store would be solved if people would just keep moving and pull their carts all the way to the side if they need to stop.

2. I have tried so hard to be kind and patient with the baggers. I know when the store is busy it's high pressure to get everything bagged. If there is a particularly quick cashier, the bagger sometimes struggles to keep up as the groceries come flying through the conveyer and down into the collection area. But why is it so hard to abide by a few simple rules? Mind you, of all the jobs I've had over the year, I have never worked in the grocery store. But I still know, keep the cold things together, put all the produce and meat together if possible, and boxy items pack well when you keep them together. Oh yeah, and as if anyone needed to be told this, chips and bread should get packed with six packs of Pelligrino and gallon jugs of water. Duh.

3. It's not hard to be courteous driving in a parking lot. You know there is always a lot of foot traffic in a grocery store lot. Why is it so hard for some people to drive at a steady but cautious speed, and pay attention to the doggone road? Stop at stop signs, let pedestrians cross, use your signal. And for heaven's sake, when the light is green it means go!

I would have let it go. Really. I got frustrated again when I got home and unpacked these bags that were all packed poorly. But truthfully, I would have let it all go had I not been writing endlessly today to get caught up on my posts.

I feel better now. Thanks for listening.

Image from CNN.com

Nope

We started the holiday festivities with one part of the family this weekend. At the gathering, there was only one "child." Jacob, the oldest of all the grandchildren on both sides, is now 18 and barely considered a kid. The only child was my nephew, Shane. Adorable, and two and half, he was on display for all of us as he graciously opened presents and played with his new toys, one after the other. I was reminded, that it wasn't that long ago, Jacob was the one sitting in the middle of the floor, under the spotlight. My how time flies!

Shane is quite precocious, and he's verbal, which makes it lots of fun to interact with him. He seemed to really enjoy the gift we brought him. Admittedly picked out by my husband, it was an Imagination pirate toy. No music or noises, no batteries, it was a pirate ship setting with a little pirate action figure and an alligator. There were two manual mechanisms that made it lots of fun for Shane. One was a little cannon hidden in a panel at the top of the ship. You pushed a hooked spear into it and then there was a button you could press and shoot it out. The other was a post with a jolly roger flag, and when you turned it, a hidden elevator-like shaft opened and closed so the pirate could presumably hide from the alligator.

I laid on the floor playing with Shane for almost an hour. I was amazed at how he could play so repetitively for so long, and still get such a kick out of it. "The alligator is gonna get him!" and he would place the pirate in the shaft. "He better go up to the telescope to see him!" He would say and then the pirate could go up to a platform high above the ground. We would send the alligator "off to the lake," and then the pirate would come out again. Then the alligator would come back and the pirate would hide again. There were about three different scenarios, and we played them over and over, and Shane got such a kick out of repeating these actions at least 100 times.

It was wonderful to watch him play. He was so amused by a good old fashioned toy. And somewhere in the middle of all of it, he said to me, "Who are you?" I laughed. We don't get to see him very much and he's 2 1/2. I could hardly blame him for not remembering. "I'm Aunt Laurie." And he repeated my name and we continued to play.

We then ate dinner, and dessert, and hung around for awhile before it was time to go. When we packed up the car, and made our rounds to say goodbye, I swaggered up to my new play pal to say goodbye. "Can I have a hug?" I asked. And the g in hug was still hanging out of my mouth before he quickly retorted, "Nope." That's it. No bones about it. You gotta love toddlers.

Life

חי

Read right to left, this is the Hebrew word chai, not pronounced like the Asian tea but with a back-of-your-throat ch- as in Hebrew and Arabic.  חי is the Hebrew word for life. It has also become symbolic of good luck and associated with the number 18, because it is comprised of the Hebrew letters ח (chet) which is the 8th letter of the Hebrew alphabet and י (yud) which is the 10th.

My son, Jacob, turned 18 just a few weeks ago. Knew I wanted to get him something special for this benchmark birthday. I wasn't necessarily looking for something larger than life or crazy expensive, more sentimental. After all, my one and only baby was now officially an adult. Strangely, I was scrolling through FB one day, and a neat little jewelry site popped up. It wasn't specifically for Judaica items, just fairly inexpensive pieces with casual flair. As soon as I saw it, I knew. It was a leather bracelet with a silver disk set into the strapping, and the disk had חי stamped out. This was it. My son's 18th birthday, the word chai- 18 and good luck-a little piece of symbolism from his Jewish roots. I would write him a personal hand-written note and that would be a small gift from a mother to her son. And as I tried to decide whether to order him black leather or brown leather, I decided to order both. Whichever one he didn't want, I was going to keep for myself.

When the bracelets arrived, I wrote up the letter and sealed it with the black leather bracelet in an envelope. I thought he would prefer black and I mistakingly though it matched the leather on a necklace my mom brought him back from Israel last year. Turns out he preferred the brown leather, as it was a better match to the necklace, and I kept the black one. He loved it (at least he said he did) and I've been wearing the black one almost every day since.

You see, I realized something. I've always been so quick to give my son tokens of his Jewish heritage, and I rarely wear visible signs of my own faith. I've become sort of shy about putting it out there, not our of shame butter out of fear. I worry I will a victim of stereotype and anti-semitism. I live in place with not only a minimal Jewish population, but little awareness or understanding about Judaism. People make assumptions and think of us as "different" just because our faith is not the same as most. 

When I gifted this bracelet to my son, I realized there was a symbolism in it for me as well. Chai means life. Life is what you live. If you can't live as you are, what's the point? I decided, I would no longer hide this part of me. I'm not holding any press conferences, or shoving it in people's faces, as many do with their own religious beliefs. I'm just quietly living as I am, and who I am. In fact, unlike other bracelets I've worn, with the words love or peace or Canes, facing outward towards others, this one I always wear toward myself. It's a reminder to me of how lucky I am to have life, and to be able to live it freely and out in the open, unlike many of my Jewish ancestors.

If you want to ask me questions, I'll happily answer.

If you want to recognize me as your sister, I'll happily embrace you.

If you want to judge me or hate me, I'll just seek to be understood.

This is my life, and I deserve to live it as freely as anyone else. To life! 

The Year of Books

It's shaping up to be a very nerdy Christmas. My husband's mom and her side of the family use Amazon wish lists for holiday shopping. Everyone in the family generates a wish list of their own on Amazon, and then we all share access to our lists with one another. It takes the guesswork out of shopping, and generally everyone gets something they want. One of the cool things about this, is rather than try to figure out something "special" we all have random things we've been meaning to get ourselves, or have added to our wish lists throughout the year with the intention of purchasing them ourselves one day, when we get around to it.

Here's the one problem with it. I generally don't have much on my list. I find myself searching around for things to add. I feel blessed to have mostly everything I want and need in my life, with the exception of high priced items you plan to save up for, and would never ask someone to buy for you. In fact, this year I don't even have any of that on my wish list. So, like any good nerd, I end up with mostly just books on my list. I always have a running list of books in my Amazon cart for the day I'm ready to spend a little money, and I know I'll find the time to do some reading. This year, I just shifted some of them out of my cart and onto my wish list.

Boom! I got two of them already. This weekend, we celebrated an early Christmas together at my mother-in-law's house. It's funny. Family members sitting around the circle look at you like you're nuts. I guess that's more because of the kinds of books I had on my list. None of them were cookbooks or novels. They were all books related to my field and areas of study that interest me. My husband's grandma bought me one, and she even jokingly quipped, "It's the first time I bought a book as a gift and wasn't tempted to read it!" I acknowledged my nerdiness, and tried to give them a few sentences about the content. They seemed respectfully uninterested, but pleased that I enjoyed receiving both the books that came my way. I am so excited to have a week-plus off to dig into some of it. Both of them will help me in my planning for the course I will be teaching next semester.

Happy Holidays to me!

All Grown Up

I grew up in the land of snarkiness. Not the damaging, hurtful kind of sarcasm. I'm talking the witty and funny, intelligent snark. My maternal grandfather was funny and sarcastic. My mom insists the sarcasm comes from his bloodline. She is quite the wise ass too, so she stands as evidence. My dad might beg to differ, as he brought his share of wit to the genetic pool as well.

Either way, my sister and I grew up as first class smart asses, and well I married one too. It only stands to reason we would produce an elite smart ass prodigy. My son's pre-school teacher made daily comments to me about Jacob's sense of humor. She told me she had been reading about the theory that sharp witted sense of humor at an early age was a sign of high intelligence. She was right. My son is highly intelligent, and he has a really sharp sense of humor.

Fast forward to the present day holiday season. Jacob told me about a week ago, he ordered my Hanukkah present and he couldn't wait to give it to me. He's like me, he enjoys giving as much as, if not more than receiving. We were out of town overnight and when we returned last night, my gift had arrived. He insisted I open it right then and there, so I did.

I could tell it was a book, as it had that Amazon cardboard box wrap around. Jacob stood over my shoulder as I peeled the tab and unwrapped the package. Here is what was inside:

I opened it, and read the whole thing as Jacob watched me. This book is F-ing hilarious! If you haven't seen it, you should check it out. Jacob said to me, "I figured since I just turned 18 and I'm really no longer a kid anymore, it was good present to get you to finish up my childhood." He knows his mom, and hit the nail right on the head. My little smart ass is all grown up.

Drive

This...

In my jeep on the way to work, what could me more perfect with the beautiful sunrise, the wind in my hair, and a load on my mind.

I wait for something more, 'cuz I gotta have faith-a-faith-a-faith. I gotta have faith. Got-ta, got-ta, got-ta have faith...

Sometimes your iPod knows just what you need to hear. And the sun continues to rise out of the morning fog and brush beautiful colors into the sky. It's all going to be okay.

You can be amazing. You can turn a phrase into a weapon or a drug... I wanna see you be brave.

On the way home, the genius of iPod shuffle continues to bring up just the perfect tunes. And the volume is turned up and the top is down and the wind is roaring and your eyes are watering and your hair is blowing every which way.

Turned on the radio. Sounded like a disco. Must've turned the dial for a couple of miles but I couldn't find no rock n' roll. This computerized crap ain't getting me off. Everywhere I go, kids wanna rock!

Sometimes you just want to cut lose, kick it into 5th gear and turn up the volume. I used to care what people thought. I used to wonder if people were watching me when I blasted my radio and sang my heart out. I'd lower the volume when my window was down at a stoplight, usually stop singing. Now? No. Fucking. Way.

Music is a world within itself with a language we all understand, with an equal opportunity for all to sing and dance and clap their hands.

No one else is going to rob me of my therapy. The open road and loud tunes is the best treatment out there. A personalized playlist, beautiful weather, and the open road. There is nothing else like it. I have room for one more, if you ever want to join me.


Song credits in order:

Faith, George Michael

Brave, Sara Bareilles

Kids Wanna Rock, Bryan Adams

Sir Duke, Stevie Wonder

The Money

As I have advanced in my career throughout the years, and increased my credentials through education and training, I have also increased my earning power to a certain degree. However, somewhere along the way when I realized I could earn more money than I had in previous years, I also started to feel my salary was a little less important. I had finally gotten to a place where no matter which job I chose, or how much I made, I was able to maintain income in a bracket that allowed me to comfortably support myself and my family. Along with my career goals and desires, I started to become drawn to more altruistic causes. Don't get me wrong, all teaching and education is somewhat altruistic. Have you ever looked at teaching salaries? But I started to become driven more by the causes in the places I worked, rather than the salary I would bring home at the end of the week.

Looking back, I can see I made really good choices for my career and my heart. I stopped worrying about making big money, and I started to find my passion in working in some very challenging environments. In some ways you can see it as I was working harder for less money. But what really happened is I chose positions and worked in places, based on where my heart was. I learned to be driven by things other than a paycheck.

Something else started to happen though. I began to undervalue what I brought to the table. I would undercut myself and allow myself to be hired for less than what I was worth, sometimes less than a hiring supervisor even budgeted, all because I felt really good about the job. I convinced myself that it didn't really matter how much I made.

Fast forward to now, and I'm in my forties and getting ready to send my son off to college in about six months. I'm thinking about my parents and how much they are enjoying retirement. I'm talking with my husband about all the things we want to do and experience now that daily in-house raising of our child is coming to an end. I'm starting to think a little bit more about financial freedom and the value of my time. You see, it's not so much about the paycheck as it is the amount of time you have to give in order to get it. I don't want to work 70 or 80 hour weeks, or even 50 or 60 hour weeks to bring home a salary that doesn't afford me anything beyond the bills.

I will no longer allow myself to be sold to the lowest bidder, just because "it's not about the paycheck" for me. The reality is, now it's a little more about the paycheck. It's not the most important thing, but you know what? It matters, and I will not be undervalued anymore. 

Stop the World

Stop the world. 

Stop the world. 

I wanna get off. 

This song by the band Extreme, has been on my mind for the past few days. I've been singing the chorus in my head. Sometimes it feels like the rotation of the earth is faster, and dizzying, like a gigantic merry-go-round.

All the world's a masquerade, 

made up of fools and philosophers. 

Were it to rain on our charade, 

all washes away, except for our true colors.

What would it be like if there was a down pouring, and we all stepped outside and the rain actually did wash away our charade? Imagine, every human being standing out in the open, physically and emotionally naked. Nowhere and nothing to hide.

I would like to be able to be completely truthful all the time. I consider myself to be an honest person, and I've even been called things like "disgustingly ethical," and "wonderfully transparent." Wow. But sometimes being that honest leaves you incredibly vulnerable. It's safer to keep some things to yourself.

The rest of the lyrics to this song are also really good, but they go away from the point I was trying to make, which is this. Sometimes it's exhausting keeping up with the world. Sometimes, you just want the ride to stop so you can get off for awhile. We know however, the ride is never over and we have to stay on our toes.

It seems the ride is making me dizzy and incoherent, so I'm going to say goodnight. Here is the video from extreme in case you'd like to hear the whole song. *Warning- it's hard rock.

Today

Today

for all its appointments and duties

tasks and projects

for all its phone calls and meetings

emails and urgencies

for all its uncertainties and unknowns

today is a new day

with chances and opportunities

today, like everyday

is a day to start anew, 

start over, start fresh

to be the best day ever

What will you do with it?

Nature Love

Is there anything more beautiful than a thank you gift from nature? Look around more often, and take the time to notice. Mother Nature sends her own messages, some more obvious than others. 

This one was like a mother's hug, as if to say...

 I love you child.

Algebratization

Back in November, I wrote about a poetry workshop I attended during the Sanibel Island Writers Conference. Nickole Brown gave us so many nuggets of wisdom and inspiration. We talked a lot about symbolism and imagery, and how they work as literary tools. You may recall I wrote about the word ostranenie, meaning to make strange. As writers, poets, Brown asked us to start looking at things as though we had never seen them before. It was a powerful way to conjure up images and words for things we had long been looking at with familiar eyes.

Another idea she shared with us, was the concept she called algebratization. It's funny, I looked it up when I got home, trying to find a more literary definition, but was unsuccessful. Look it up, and all you will find are mathematical explanations. However, the math definitions can easily be applied to the literary interpretation Brown gave us. She explained algebratization as when we turn something in our lives into an automatic symbol, a cliche. Thus, when we think of that word or phrases, we are  stuck with that automatic symbol instead of real, imagery taken in with our senses. It's a fascinating concept. Here is an example:

What do you think of when I say house? Or when I say tree or apple?

Many of us picture a symbol- the generic boxy house everyone draws when they draw a house. How about the tree? This time of year, you might picture a Christmas tree. Or because I live in Florida, I might picture a palm tree. A child might just draw that generic lollipop tree with a straight trunk and pom pom top. And the apple. More than likely you picture a Red Delicious apple or one quite similar.

The point is, we bank these icons as images for these everyday objects and fail to notice, and as writers describe, the very detailed intricacies of these things. Look out the window at a tree. Does it look like the icon image of a tree, or is it much more complex than that. When we did this with Nickole Brown, she pointed out the window of the Big Arts Building on Sanibel Island. We were looking at a beautiful expansive, not uniform series of branches from a non-icon image looking tree. She referred to the trees in North Carolina this time of year, and how different they would look in the middle of fall. I wrote down part of the description she gave, because it seemed to come so effortlessly. She said the leafless branches looked like nerve endings up in the sky. I knew just what she was saying, and I didn't picture the tree icon we have become so accustomed to.

There was no specific writing task we completed after this discussion, just a powerful reminder not to become lazy with the way we describe things as writers. We don't want our readers to picture just any tree or apple, we want them to picture the very specific one we seek to create for them in their minds. It was a great lesson, and a brilliant take away.

Diary of a Colloquium Professor (under construction)

I am so excited for next semester. I just got my field trip list, found my course on Canvas, and for once I'll have some time to plan for my new semester! My grades are in for the fall semester, and now I have almost a month to plan out my course for spring. I'm using a new text book this semester and I have been collecting some new ideas. Add all that to the wonderful feedback from my students this fall, and I'm ready to get moving.

So much of my world is upside down and in limbo right now, but one thing is for sure. I love teaching this course, and I'm energized for making it even better this semester than the last. Here is my field trip list. Don't you wish you were in my class?

Campus Trail Wet Walk
Campus Sustainability Walk & Food Forest
Corkscrew Swamp Sanctuary- In the middle of February. Should be beautiful weather!
Pine Manor Community Garden
Lovers Key Beach

It's going to be a great semester!

Jerry Maguire

I've often thought over the years, I was dangerously at risk of having a Jerry Maguire moment. You know what I'm referring to... that moment when you pour your guts out in the cut-throat work environment, exposing yourself and your feelings because you're sick of playing along.

My current boss commends me often for my transparency. We have maintained a productive and respectful relationship over the past two and half years, because with me, what you see is what you get. I'm not good at hiding my thought or feelings, and for the most part with me, you're going to get a straight shooter.

Sometimes I wonder though, if transparency is as good of a quality as it seems. As far as being honest and not bullshitting people, I suppose it's a positive quality. People know they are getting honesty from me, and that provides them with a level of security in our relationship of whatever type. On the other hand, my so-called transparency might be interpreted as a cathartic immaturity. Am I so unable to hold my thoughts and feelings to myself that I have to spew them out and let them be known to all, no matter the consequences?

Who knows? I guess it hasn't had any catastrophic results just yet. At worst, I have undercut myself in negotiating competitive salaries, allowed my students some latitude my colleagues may not have. At best, I have avoided passive aggression in my personal relationships, and made a reputation for myself as an honest person.

This past week, I put myself out there. I wrote a sort-of Jerry Maguire letter, and I have yet to see results, negative or positive. I suppose only time will tell. In the meantime, I continue to reflect on my experiences and my expression of ideas and emotions. My conclusion at this point in time is that authenticity is worth the risk of just about anything. Keeping it real, so to speak, is just a part of who I am. No bullshit here. Just me, raw and (mostly) uncensored. Take it or leave it.

Remember when Tom Cruise, as Jerry Maguire,  drives down the road feeling liberated? That's how good it feels when you free yourself from bottled up thoughts and feelings. It feels good to just put all your cards out on the table sometimes. What will be will be. But you never have to wonder, what if...

Peace in Possibility

possibility

open mind and open heart

simply let it be

Celery

This might be cheating because I already posted this piece on a shared blog with my writing group. But it's been awhile since I wrote any fiction, and I'm really behind on my blog. So screw it! I make my own rules... and actually I don't have any so there are none to break. If you want to understand the catalyst for this piece of flash fiction, you can read the prompt from my group mate at our blog, Trailbrazin': Prompt # 19: Grocery List Flash Fiction. Otherwise, just skip it and read below.

Celery
by Laurie J. Kemp

Fucking celery. That was all she could think to put on that striped strip of paper on the magnetic grocery list pad that hung on the refrigerator door. No one to cook for and too many extra pounds to shed since having her baby. Ten years ago. Now he was gone, and so was his father. Olivia felt so alone.

She pulled up to Publix and shuffled through her purse to find the list. She stared at it while she waited for "Pretty Woman" to finish playing on the radio. She always loved Roy Orbison. "Celery. I need a fucking shopping list for celery?" she said out loud. All those empty lines on the list stared back at her. If things had been different, her list might be filled with juice boxes and Oreos, maybe steak and veggies for salad and the ingredients for chocolate chip cookies. Instead, it was empty. Like her life.

Her eyes began to well up. It wasn't just celery on her list. The celery was a symbol, for tomato juice, hot sauce, and a shit ton of vodka. The celery was just a garnish, a symbol of how she drank away her life and all that was good in it. "At least I'm not guzzling it straight from bottle anymore," she quipped at the word on her list. Baby steps. Ah yes, baby steps. Just the word baby was enough to launch her into an all out sob. She fumbled around for a tissue, a napkin, anything to wipe the snot and the tears. When she finally gave up, she looked again at the list through her tears. Celery. She blew her nose in the striped strip of paper, crumbled it up, and tossed it out the window.

"Fuck celery!" she shouted, and she drove away without ever getting out of the car. Instead she drove down one more light to the plaza at the next intersection. She pulled up to the spot right in front and stared hopelessly into the window. The bright red neon sign flashed on and off calling to her, "LIQUOR. LIQUOR."

Diary of a Colloquium Professor #13: Saying Goodbye

Tonight was the best Colloquium class ever. I could share the rest of the projects to counter my diary entry 12, but suffice to say among the presentations was an original acoustic guitar and singing performance that blew me away. The projects this semester were the most vast and the most creative yet. More important than the remaining projects however, was what happened after class was over.

I promised the students once the presentations were complete, I would conclude with a few words and then send them on their way. I was not interested in stretching the class longer than I needed to, just for the sake of keeping them there. We had a great time listening to the presentations and reminiscing about the field trips and other aspects of class, and then they were done with fifteen minutes remaining. I stepped up to the front of the room, told them how much I really enjoy teaching this class and how much fun I had with them this semester. I told them how much I loved their final projects and if they needed anything in the future to give me a holler because they had my email. They giggled and repeated "holla!" I think they appreciated that "I keep it real" with them. Then I let them go.

The thing is, only about half of them left. The others stood around the front of the room, kind of waiting in line to say goodbye. One by one, about 10 of them came up and said thank you. Four of them hugged me. Yup, my college students hugged me! I shot the shit with a few of them who told me how much they loved the class and we walked out of the classroom. There stood about seven or eight of them who just didn't seem to want to leave. They were talking to each other and back to me again, and one of them (the guitar player/singer) said, "this is kind of sad." I responded to him that it's the life of a teacher, the end is always bitter sweet because the work is done but it's time to say goodbye. So you'd think they would then say goodbye and leave. But no.

A few of them gathered around me outside the door and asked me what else I teach. I told them right now this was the only course I teach. What else do you normally teach? said Marc, the guitar player. I explained that I started as an adjunct for the College of Education and was teaching teacher education courses before I started teaching Colloquium, things like teaching strategies and children's literature. And he said, So if I take Children's Literature I could take your class? This was so endearing, because Marc is a junior IT major. There is no way he would ever be in any other class I teach. I laughed and told him he could take children's lit, but it wasn't likely I'd be teaching it any time soon. We laughed some more and I told them all I'd love to hear from them about how they're doing and if they need anything. One of the girls asked me for a recommendation letter for her internship.

And I walked out with two of them towards the parking lot, and as we split off to separate parking garages, one of them said, Thanks again. It was a really great class. So much better than I expected. I told him how glad I was he thought that and wished them both a relaxing, well deserved break.

Then I floated off to my car.

Nowhere to Be Found

I'm Is it time to stop wearing earrings? When do I concede?

First, a few months ago, one of the diamond earrings my mom bought me with money left to her by my grandma, fell out during the day. Gone. Nowhere to be found.

Incredibly saddened by this, I bought a fake pair, cubic zirconia, and tried to replace the lost diamond with one of them. I felt like they didn't match, so I put the real one away and just wore the fake ones. A few weeks ago, the backing fell off one of them so I put it in my wallet until I could get home and replace the backing. Got home, wallet had a hole. Gone. Nowhere to be found.

When I bought the CZ replacement pair, it was in a set of three, multiple sizes. So, despite the fact I thought they looked a little too big, I put on the bigger ones. Same day, one fell out. Gone. Nowhere to be found.

I went through three or four iterations of this, and finally over the weekend, I decided to pull out the only "real" earrings I have left. I got engaged the spring semester of my senior year in college, and my mom bought me a pair of earrings for graduation with the idea I could wear them to my wedding, and I did. They were pearl stud earrings, each had a small diamond kissing it. 

This morning I woke up, sat up and touched my ear. Something didn't feel right. The bulbous pearl wasn't there. I pulled the backing off and took the earring out of my ear. The pearl was missing. Gone. Nowhere to be found.

There is no moral here. No lesson to be learned from my story. Just an ache in my heart. The two pairs of earrings, gifted to me by mom, with the most sentimental value, are lost. Gone. Nowhere to be found.

Diary of a Colloquium Professor #12

Last Thursday's class was fantastic! It was the first half of finals for this class, which is really the first of the two final meetings during which my students make final presentations. This is my favorite part of the class, because students get carte blanche to be creative and come up with any product they want to demonstrate the personal impact of their service learning and the rest of the course. My students out-did themselves and we're already halfway done.

Three students created original paintings, and they were all different:

Julian painted the world he wants to live in on the left, and the world we're in danger of living in on the right. He explained that though there are mountains, and this can't be Florida because of it, he used photos from the field trips to paint the other parts. For example, the prairie at the base of the mountain was painted from a photo of the prairie at the Corkscrew Swamp Sanctuary. Isn't it beautiful?

Donne, who is an Art and English major, has had artist's block and hasn't done any nature painting in quite some time. She was inspired by a Great Blue Heron we saw at Corkscrew, and said Colloquium has brought back her desire to paint nature. She lives on the Estero River and is quite a lover of the natural world, but she hadn't painted any of it. She was re-inspired by the focus on her sense of place throughout the field trips and her service learning hours, helping clean up the Estero River. She sold this painting and the night she presented was the last she would see of it. I wish I could have kept it!

Mason also painted a really neat photo. He proclaimed he wasn't an artist, but he re-visited the Corkscrew Swamp Sanctuary on his own and took upwards of 75 photos and created a website devoted to seasonal photography at Corkscrew. He took one of the photos and put it through a filter, and then painted the filtered photo. I don't have the image to show, but it was quite something.

Alex, a relatively quiet and meditative student was clearly enjoying the field trips and the course. Though he didn't say much in class, he was always in attendance and was quite reflective in his assignments. He wrote exceptional papers, but was shy in group presentations. He got up and spoke about how much he loved working at the Campus Food Forest for his service learning hours. Then he read this original poem!

The heat on my skin, the scent in the air. The silent whisper of the breeze echoes. 

Looking for a way to disappear for a moment in a land filled with life. 

Blinded by the sun’s brightest rays, wish these moments would last a bit longer.
Now, I ask- What did you see, hear, feel yesterday or today? 

Will you say “I missed it all, or I don’t remember?” 

Open your eyes, take it all it. 

Make this world your sense of place.
Life’s a garden- dig it!

Nathan made a Colloquium Game of Life with questions about sustainability and biodiversity. I might have to bring it to class one night next semester and see how my students do with it.

Doris, who is simultaneously working on a degree and going to interior design school, built a model with green materials and sustainable design. It even had LED lights on it! She didn't post a photo yet.

There were others, and I'm looking forward to the remaining projects this week, but one of the most impressive had to be from my self-proclaimed "biophobe." You may remember me early in the semester, writing about a student who said he didn't like nature and didn't like getting in the dirt. H really came around this semester, and embraced the course and the content. He ended up being a great student. I know he hasn't changed his feelings completely, but he did say he felt more comfortable by the end of the semester than he had previously, and he did his service learning hours in the Campus Food Forest, outside, in the dirt and the heat. And he said he enjoyed it! But here's the part I love. As mentioned previously, the students have the ability to do whatever they want during this project. I give them a basic rubric and then I tell them this: If I can't tell from your presentation, what the impact of this course and your service learning has had on you, you haven't done your job. Here is what Chris presented:

In a presentation he titled Colloquium and Me, Chris took a video game he plays, in which you create settlements. I'm not too familiar with games, but it is a building game he related to a Minecraft type game. He took a settlement he had built previously and applied all of the Colloquium course concepts related to sustainability to change his settlement. He changed a generator to be solar powered, and here he added a windmill.



He had previously planted using monoculture because as he said, this one plant is the best plant in the game. But as he revised his settlement for his project, he wanted to make sure his single plant crop would not be wiped out by a pest, so he created a biodiverse crop system using other plants (below).




   

He also created a recycling plant and did other things to improve his settlement to be more sustainable. His presentation was not only visually cool, but his ability to explain all he learned through his application to the video game was outstanding. All of his classmates were impressed and so was I! It really was an opportunity for him to shine, and that's what this assignment is all about.

I've said it before and I'll say it again... I love teaching this course! I can't way to see what the rest of my students have in store this week. I will be sad to say goodbye to this group. It was such fun.

Sounding Off!

I love teachers. I love my nephews more. It is a rare occasion I will "bad mouth" a teacher, especially in a public forum. But I'm livid over something my 9-year-old nephew told us after dinner tonight.

Let me be clear that I am not excusing anything my nephew may or may not have done in regards to his homework. If you've been following any of my blogs, or read any number of my posts over the years, you'll know how I feel about homework and grades. That's for another time. I just wanted to get this out of the way so it doesn't distract the reader from what really pissed me off today.

My nephew told us his teacher said to him at school today, "If you don't have time to get your homework done, you should quit Cub Scouts." Um excuse me? What was that? Apparently my nephew hasn't been consistent with completing his homework. I don't doubt it. He does it every night he is with us, which is usually 3-4 days a week. But here is a list of reasons why this is not ok:

1. Scouts is one night a week. Problems with homework do not translate to a need to quit scouts.
2. Scouts provides something in my nephew's life that he needs. He is learning, among other things, the scout law which says: A Scout is trustworthy, loyal, helpful, friendly, courteous, kind, obedient, cheerful, thrifty, brave, clean, and reverent. I'm pretty sure these are the things that will help him see the value in completing his homework, but also that his performance in school isn't the only important thing in his life.
3. It's not popular to say this, especially as an educator, but not all students are going to excel in school. With their best effort and all the right moves, for some students it will always be a challenge. It doesn't matter if it's their upbringing or their intelligence, or even just their motivation. Some kids will work an hour every night and still not complete their homework. At 9-years-old, I think it's ok to call it quits after an hour as long as the time and effort were put in.
4. It's important to read, write, do math, and learn about history and the scientific world. But it's also important to learn survival skills, and practical hands-on things. This is especially important for kids who struggle in school. My nephew has a learning disability. He has been struggling some in school, but ask this kid to build something or understand the workings of something and man he's right there with you. His dad was similar. Take away the things he enjoys and is skilled at and he'll never understand what it's like to accomplish something and he'll never feel worthy around his peers. 
5. Extracurricular activities in moderate amounts, are really good for building well-rounded kids. Scouts is an excellent opportunity to learn how to communicate with peers and adults in a supportive, relaxed environment. There is a focus on achievement, but based on the scout's interests and strengths. 
6. When you are a part of a scout pack/troop or a team, it's not just about the kid in question. My husband and I have never understood why parents punish kids who are not doing well in school or are having some behavior challenges, by taking them out of scouts or pulling them off sports teams. These kids need to be accountable to their teams and their troops. Bench them for a game or make them sit out of an event, but pulling them completely hurts the team/troop and the student. The consequences don't match the actions.

I could go on, but I'm exhausted already. The bottom line is no teacher has any right to say such a thing to a child. If she/he feels strongly that the activity is interfering with learning, then they should have a conversation with the parent. In this case, the teacher would quickly find out there is no correlation between the homework issue and scouts. What she said was mean and punitive. It's as though she wanted to insult him for not keeping up with his homework, and I think it's just wrong.