I hadn't meant to use a scare tactic. Just to make sure everyone knew I would be clearing out the fridge. After all, I would hate to throw away someone's lunch. Someone cleans the break room every month, and once or twice something gets tossed that shouldn't have been.
I had sent a notice a few days ago, and this morning, I sent an email in bright red bold letters that simply said:
Eat it, Label it, or Lose it. I mean it.
Well, by the time I got to my duties in the afternoon, that darn fridge was empty of everyone's stuff! I wiped it out, tossed a number of condiments with outmoded dates, and stood back to assess my handiwork. Something wasn't quite right.
It occurs to me that a fridge is meant to hold food that is at risk of spoiling. Perhaps the totally empty box might be an indicator that the vigilance of keeping it clean has now outweighed the necessity of use!
I had not meant to scare everyone off - just to prevent the typical build up of moldy junk and clutter that causes dysfunctionality. Sigh. I console myself by scouring the dish drainer and the microwave and clearing counters until everything sparkles.
OK. Perhaps next time my number comes up for cleaning, I will be more gentle in the emails. Live in it. Just live responsibly.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Port Flush
I breeze down the hallway, stepping around slow moving people who are in the thralls of cancer treatment, people with ashen faces and pain filled eyes, people stooped over and barely shuffling along. I am happy happy happy that I am so much better these days, despite the occasional tired day.
Yet.
Yet three days ago when I went to bed, every joint and gland in my body hurt. Yet I had to be careful what clothing I wore because certain glands felt swollen and tender. I have not had that sensation for a long time - certainly not since the chemo and radiation treatments. I am worried. That whole ton of stuff I went through was supposed to get me years of symptom free status. Best case was ten years, though the bell curve begins at about two years. I haven't had two years. Really, less than one.
Well, no sense getting all het up about something that has already disappeared. Today I am here just to ensure that my port is still viable. After all, I will see the oncologist in early November (and remember to tell her how tough that last chemo was!), and then get my next round of chemo. Surely she will run bloodwork and if anything is concerning, she will let me know. [and somewhere in there is a subconscious desire not to go through anything else unless I am pushed].
Today, the nurse and I laugh out loud when we see the beautiful pinkish tinge of blood freely flowing through that blessed port.
Yet.
Yet three days ago when I went to bed, every joint and gland in my body hurt. Yet I had to be careful what clothing I wore because certain glands felt swollen and tender. I have not had that sensation for a long time - certainly not since the chemo and radiation treatments. I am worried. That whole ton of stuff I went through was supposed to get me years of symptom free status. Best case was ten years, though the bell curve begins at about two years. I haven't had two years. Really, less than one.
Well, no sense getting all het up about something that has already disappeared. Today I am here just to ensure that my port is still viable. After all, I will see the oncologist in early November (and remember to tell her how tough that last chemo was!), and then get my next round of chemo. Surely she will run bloodwork and if anything is concerning, she will let me know. [and somewhere in there is a subconscious desire not to go through anything else unless I am pushed].
Today, the nurse and I laugh out loud when we see the beautiful pinkish tinge of blood freely flowing through that blessed port.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Apple Fest
Every month we try to have some kind of social event at the library to celebrate the season and the birthdays of our staff and faculty. This month is my turn, and I thought about it for awhile before hitting on what seemed to be a good idea. I decided to have an apple fest - a time of tasting different varieties of apples and ciders and fruit breads.
Imagine my surprise when I found out that the person who is doing October's event had already thought of that idea! But it was too late to change. I had already sent out the invitations. Perhaps she will hit on another idea.
I spent quite some time researching apples, especially types that I had never heard of, and ones that were labeled as new this year. I didn't stick with New York apples either even though I really like the taste of apples common to this area. When I have lived in other states, I tried to describe the flavor of a Spy or a Cortland apple. People couldn't even imagine what I was talking about. No wonder they don't do much with apples since the taste of what they can get in the supermarkets is not so appealing.
I selected five different apples - Zestar, Ginger Gold, Braeburn (from New Zealand), Pink Lady, and Jonagold. I cut each one into slices with my handy corer, and each person sampled. Of course, it helped that there was caramel to dip the slices in. Ginger Gold turned out to be the favorite. The honeycrisp cider was a close second. And it didn't take long for the cinnamon apple bread and the cranberry orange bread to disappear either.
After that, we played with the birthday card that was a Hoops and Yoyo talkie (or sing-ey) and chatted for a bit. Then it was back to business. I had a class to teach, circ desk needed assistance, and clients had questions at the ref desk. Still, I enjoyed the brief apple tasting venture. Someone suggested we try the idea with cheese and other such goodies. Maybe we will.
Imagine my surprise when I found out that the person who is doing October's event had already thought of that idea! But it was too late to change. I had already sent out the invitations. Perhaps she will hit on another idea.
I spent quite some time researching apples, especially types that I had never heard of, and ones that were labeled as new this year. I didn't stick with New York apples either even though I really like the taste of apples common to this area. When I have lived in other states, I tried to describe the flavor of a Spy or a Cortland apple. People couldn't even imagine what I was talking about. No wonder they don't do much with apples since the taste of what they can get in the supermarkets is not so appealing.
I selected five different apples - Zestar, Ginger Gold, Braeburn (from New Zealand), Pink Lady, and Jonagold. I cut each one into slices with my handy corer, and each person sampled. Of course, it helped that there was caramel to dip the slices in. Ginger Gold turned out to be the favorite. The honeycrisp cider was a close second. And it didn't take long for the cinnamon apple bread and the cranberry orange bread to disappear either.
After that, we played with the birthday card that was a Hoops and Yoyo talkie (or sing-ey) and chatted for a bit. Then it was back to business. I had a class to teach, circ desk needed assistance, and clients had questions at the ref desk. Still, I enjoyed the brief apple tasting venture. Someone suggested we try the idea with cheese and other such goodies. Maybe we will.
Monday, September 27, 2010
Psalms, Hymns and Spiritual Songs Symposium
Meetings! They interrupt your life and work and seem to get in the way of the important stuff. Today is no exception. I wriggled around and managed to get my reference desk hours covered for the symposium presentations, but my morning meeting ran long and I missed the first part of chapel. I scurried along the walkway toward the Cultural Life Center, the wind brisk, the leaves scuffing beneath my shoes. Perhaps if I am lucky, they will just be completing the opening singing and readings and I won't miss too much.
I am about to dash up the ramp towards the back of the auditorium when I spot her, a woman obviously lost and in a quandary. I sigh and stop. Can I be of assistance? Yes. She has come for the symposium - oh, good! She is in the right place and I can usher her into the chapel quickly and not miss any more. But no. That is not her question. Her concern is to figure out where she is supposed to go AFTER the morning chapel. The lunch thing. Oh.
I give directions, and while I am gesturing and pointing, her friend arrives, pushing a walker. Not an elderly woman by any means, but in need of extra time to get places. I understand the concern. I assure them that I will wait for them when chapel is concluded, and I will walk with them to Garlock where they need to be. They look dubious, but I arrange to meet them by the ladies room, and then we all go in.
I have missed the opening worship. It takes me a few minutes to settle in and catch on to what the speaker is presenting. Soon I am following along, delighted when he teaches us the very Iona song my choir will be singing next month for call to worship. He emphasizes the significance of the words, of hearing what we are singing about, that music is the prayer of the spirit. Yes. Slow down, savor the presence of God, share the songs from one generation to another.
How wonderful to sing together sweet in the spirit - music that touches the innermost core. It is most natural afterwards to reconnect with the campus visitors, to walk slowly with them towards their lunch destination. How amazing that the speaker is right behind us, and I am honored to meet him and chat for a few minutes before I must start my afternoon of alternating desk duty and presentation attending.
Not the ideal way to attend a symposium, but sometimes you just have to fit these things in and be grateful for each opportunity you get. And sing. Keep singing.
I am about to dash up the ramp towards the back of the auditorium when I spot her, a woman obviously lost and in a quandary. I sigh and stop. Can I be of assistance? Yes. She has come for the symposium - oh, good! She is in the right place and I can usher her into the chapel quickly and not miss any more. But no. That is not her question. Her concern is to figure out where she is supposed to go AFTER the morning chapel. The lunch thing. Oh.
I give directions, and while I am gesturing and pointing, her friend arrives, pushing a walker. Not an elderly woman by any means, but in need of extra time to get places. I understand the concern. I assure them that I will wait for them when chapel is concluded, and I will walk with them to Garlock where they need to be. They look dubious, but I arrange to meet them by the ladies room, and then we all go in.
I have missed the opening worship. It takes me a few minutes to settle in and catch on to what the speaker is presenting. Soon I am following along, delighted when he teaches us the very Iona song my choir will be singing next month for call to worship. He emphasizes the significance of the words, of hearing what we are singing about, that music is the prayer of the spirit. Yes. Slow down, savor the presence of God, share the songs from one generation to another.
How wonderful to sing together sweet in the spirit - music that touches the innermost core. It is most natural afterwards to reconnect with the campus visitors, to walk slowly with them towards their lunch destination. How amazing that the speaker is right behind us, and I am honored to meet him and chat for a few minutes before I must start my afternoon of alternating desk duty and presentation attending.
Not the ideal way to attend a symposium, but sometimes you just have to fit these things in and be grateful for each opportunity you get. And sing. Keep singing.
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Day of Rest
I rarely get a chance to just take an entire day to rest when I am not dealing with health issues. And today I really need to work on writing a paper, reading assignments, doing some housework. But I don't. I come home from church, tired. The boys are all away at one activity or another and I am on my own. I pick up some Chinese food on the way home and sit quietly in the living room to eat while Sugar looks on longingly. I toss her a few scraps.
It does not take long for me to decide to abandon all plans and just lay down. I listen to the patter of rain against the glass of my bedroom window, and snuggle beneath the warm quilts, arms cradling the soft squishy feather pillow. Sugar jumps up on the foot of the bed and lies next to my legs, the warmth of her body helping me relax.
I should read. I could at least feel productive. I know I will not last through even one page. Though I am not tired from chemo or cancer or a cold, though I have not worn myself out with hard manual labor, though I have much I could be doing, I know somewhere deep inside that the most important thing I must do right now is to rest. A deep satisfying rest that will wash away the dust of busyness and carry me refreshed into next week.
I do not think about meetings or projects or problems. I do not concern myself with expectations or people or errands. I allow my eyes to close, my mind to still. I listen to the rain and the gentle regular breathing of the dog. I feel the warmth, appreciate my full tummy, thank God for this precious time. I do not remember dozing off. I am blissfully unaware of the passing of precious time. I am free to unwind, to let my body do what it was created to do - regenerate. Hours pass.
Consciousness slowly returns. The rain is still pattering against the window glass. The dog is still sleeping at my feet. The quilts are still cuddled around me and the house is still quiet and childrenless. All is the same. Except for me. I take a deep breath and convince myself to slide from between the covers and consider tackling the dirty dishes. I wonder if my nap will interfere with bedtime which is already drawing near.
I needn't have been concerned. I wash dishes, make a bite of dinner, and fold towels. The boys return and we have a nice unhurried chat. When bedtime rolls around, I sleep the sweet sleep of someone who is at peace. It is good. It is all good.
It does not take long for me to decide to abandon all plans and just lay down. I listen to the patter of rain against the glass of my bedroom window, and snuggle beneath the warm quilts, arms cradling the soft squishy feather pillow. Sugar jumps up on the foot of the bed and lies next to my legs, the warmth of her body helping me relax.
I should read. I could at least feel productive. I know I will not last through even one page. Though I am not tired from chemo or cancer or a cold, though I have not worn myself out with hard manual labor, though I have much I could be doing, I know somewhere deep inside that the most important thing I must do right now is to rest. A deep satisfying rest that will wash away the dust of busyness and carry me refreshed into next week.
I do not think about meetings or projects or problems. I do not concern myself with expectations or people or errands. I allow my eyes to close, my mind to still. I listen to the rain and the gentle regular breathing of the dog. I feel the warmth, appreciate my full tummy, thank God for this precious time. I do not remember dozing off. I am blissfully unaware of the passing of precious time. I am free to unwind, to let my body do what it was created to do - regenerate. Hours pass.
Consciousness slowly returns. The rain is still pattering against the window glass. The dog is still sleeping at my feet. The quilts are still cuddled around me and the house is still quiet and childrenless. All is the same. Except for me. I take a deep breath and convince myself to slide from between the covers and consider tackling the dirty dishes. I wonder if my nap will interfere with bedtime which is already drawing near.
I needn't have been concerned. I wash dishes, make a bite of dinner, and fold towels. The boys return and we have a nice unhurried chat. When bedtime rolls around, I sleep the sweet sleep of someone who is at peace. It is good. It is all good.
Saturday, September 25, 2010
Annual Library Book Sale
Homecoming! The campus is filled with parents of current students, alumni of all ages, friends of the college, community members. Outside the Library a huge white tent is erected to house the Bazaar. A magic jump house suddenly appears. Tables and chairs are transported from thither to yon, set up for one event, taken down and reset for another.
We set up a booksale on the patio outside, praying that the rain would hold off. Before we scarcely got the bookcarts through the door people descended to see what we had to offer. And we have everything. From old medical manuals about knees to children's books to the latest novel to collector's guides. Some books that were donated were duplicates of items already in our collection. Others were given specifically to help us raise funds to preserve some of our older (aka 1700's) unique and historic books.
It took Sharon and Phil and I over an hour to set up the four tables and three bookcarts, get the signs hung, and bring out the cash box and bags. Business came in waves as other activities on campus waxed and waned. Clumps of people looking for a respite from the steady wind, or for a bathroom, wandered past our tables, stopping to see what treasures we might have to offer.
Who can resist a good bargain? We even set the prices a bit higher than most book sales to try and raise more money for our preservation project, and no one objected to the prices at all. Most popular were the children's books. We as a society apparently believe our children should read books! We sold almost all of those even though there were relatively few children who were at the sale.
Next most popular were the two or three year old textbooks for alumni who had been out of school by at least a decade. Catching up given the chance. Not caring that the book wasn't cutting edge, just more recent than their last exposure. Filling in gaps. If we had a nickel for every time someone read the title of the medical book on Knees, we could have preserved our whole collection! Must be we have a knee fetish.
A few people bought enough books to need a box to carry them off. Others overfilled a plastic grocery sack, while some just stuffed their finds into their carryalls. Some stood for hours pouring over every title, others glanced, grabbed and moved on. A few debated carefully how to get the most for their limited amount of funding, selecting only the perfect ones. Others intentionally passed us by, waving their hands and shaking their heads over the plethora of books already residing in their living rooms.
In the end, although we did very well, you could scarcely tell that we had made even a small dent in the pile of books (other than the empty children's table). The remainder will go back in storage until our next book sale when they will again debut in hopes of finding a good home. Meanwhile, we will look into an Amazon account. Perhaps we can put a few up for adoption that way.
We set up a booksale on the patio outside, praying that the rain would hold off. Before we scarcely got the bookcarts through the door people descended to see what we had to offer. And we have everything. From old medical manuals about knees to children's books to the latest novel to collector's guides. Some books that were donated were duplicates of items already in our collection. Others were given specifically to help us raise funds to preserve some of our older (aka 1700's) unique and historic books.
It took Sharon and Phil and I over an hour to set up the four tables and three bookcarts, get the signs hung, and bring out the cash box and bags. Business came in waves as other activities on campus waxed and waned. Clumps of people looking for a respite from the steady wind, or for a bathroom, wandered past our tables, stopping to see what treasures we might have to offer.
Who can resist a good bargain? We even set the prices a bit higher than most book sales to try and raise more money for our preservation project, and no one objected to the prices at all. Most popular were the children's books. We as a society apparently believe our children should read books! We sold almost all of those even though there were relatively few children who were at the sale.
Next most popular were the two or three year old textbooks for alumni who had been out of school by at least a decade. Catching up given the chance. Not caring that the book wasn't cutting edge, just more recent than their last exposure. Filling in gaps. If we had a nickel for every time someone read the title of the medical book on Knees, we could have preserved our whole collection! Must be we have a knee fetish.
A few people bought enough books to need a box to carry them off. Others overfilled a plastic grocery sack, while some just stuffed their finds into their carryalls. Some stood for hours pouring over every title, others glanced, grabbed and moved on. A few debated carefully how to get the most for their limited amount of funding, selecting only the perfect ones. Others intentionally passed us by, waving their hands and shaking their heads over the plethora of books already residing in their living rooms.
In the end, although we did very well, you could scarcely tell that we had made even a small dent in the pile of books (other than the empty children's table). The remainder will go back in storage until our next book sale when they will again debut in hopes of finding a good home. Meanwhile, we will look into an Amazon account. Perhaps we can put a few up for adoption that way.
Friday, September 24, 2010
Sugar's Haircut
Kiel has been trimming Sugar whenever her fur gets into her eyes or becomes too matted. Really, he just clips out the clumps. Somehow we managed to get through the entire summer without taking Sugar in for a real grooming. Her thick curly hair is so poofy she looks like a little fat sausage. Her nails click and clack on the sidewalk when she is outside. You can't even see her beautiful black eyes begging for just a taste of whatever you happen to be eating.
It is time. Time for the professional to magically turn her back into an adorable puppy instead of Nanook of the North. And now, before winter sets in and she needs her thick warm coat. I make the appointment and Kiel takes her in. It's silly, but I wonder how she is doing, if she remembers the groomer, if there are other dogs there, if she is behaving herself. Perhaps it is best that I have no real idea of how they actually manage to get her to stand still long enough to undergo the whole shebang. I take heart in seeing how much she loves being there and how happy she is to see the groomer.
Finally my work day comes to an end and I head home. I can't wait to see her. I open the door and am bowled over by a rambunctious skinny little puppy with short ears (no more dragging on the ground or stepping on them!) done up in little green bows with green pearls in the center. She is so happy! And trim! You would think she had lost ten pounds. I wish my haircuts did that for me! My haircuts only make the rest of me seem fatter.
Now I can see her shining eyes as she watches every move I make. Who can resist her silent pleading? I can see already that this haircut is gonna cost way beyond just the groomer's fee.
It is time. Time for the professional to magically turn her back into an adorable puppy instead of Nanook of the North. And now, before winter sets in and she needs her thick warm coat. I make the appointment and Kiel takes her in. It's silly, but I wonder how she is doing, if she remembers the groomer, if there are other dogs there, if she is behaving herself. Perhaps it is best that I have no real idea of how they actually manage to get her to stand still long enough to undergo the whole shebang. I take heart in seeing how much she loves being there and how happy she is to see the groomer.
Finally my work day comes to an end and I head home. I can't wait to see her. I open the door and am bowled over by a rambunctious skinny little puppy with short ears (no more dragging on the ground or stepping on them!) done up in little green bows with green pearls in the center. She is so happy! And trim! You would think she had lost ten pounds. I wish my haircuts did that for me! My haircuts only make the rest of me seem fatter.
Now I can see her shining eyes as she watches every move I make. Who can resist her silent pleading? I can see already that this haircut is gonna cost way beyond just the groomer's fee.
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Drew's Haircut
What does it take to get a 16 year old to submit to a haircut? Apparently, homecoming weekend. And the desire to dye your hair blond and run green streaks through the lizard points on the top of your head. Why do my boys do such silly things with their hair??!! Maybe its because they can and they thought of it.
Sure enough, this morning, while driving Drew to Wilson School to catch up with the bus he missed, I glanced sideways at this tall young man sitting next to me in the car. His clothing was green. His hair top was green. And pointed. But his smile was huge. He is so proud of his look. OK. I am trying to understand the importance of green pointy hair.
More than that, I would like to see the world from his perspective, this young man who nearly lost both parents at the tender age of 8, who has lived in three different states in the last ten years, who has fought for respect from his four older brothers. I want to understand how his generation of glued to the cell phone carry your amusement with you everywhere stay more connected virtually generation values what aspects of life.
I will not get that from a book. I will only get that from talking to him and to his friends. So I guess I will have to try harder. I do like his friends that I have met and enjoy chatting with them from time to time. And I love it when Drew and I suddenly find ourselves deep in the middle of an honest heart to heart mother son chat. Those come up fairly regularly. I need to remember to shut up and listen more. Working on it.
Sure enough, this morning, while driving Drew to Wilson School to catch up with the bus he missed, I glanced sideways at this tall young man sitting next to me in the car. His clothing was green. His hair top was green. And pointed. But his smile was huge. He is so proud of his look. OK. I am trying to understand the importance of green pointy hair.
More than that, I would like to see the world from his perspective, this young man who nearly lost both parents at the tender age of 8, who has lived in three different states in the last ten years, who has fought for respect from his four older brothers. I want to understand how his generation of glued to the cell phone carry your amusement with you everywhere stay more connected virtually generation values what aspects of life.
I will not get that from a book. I will only get that from talking to him and to his friends. So I guess I will have to try harder. I do like his friends that I have met and enjoy chatting with them from time to time. And I love it when Drew and I suddenly find ourselves deep in the middle of an honest heart to heart mother son chat. Those come up fairly regularly. I need to remember to shut up and listen more. Working on it.
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Paying Off Baby
I did it! I paid off my car! How incredible. What a relief. I am hoping it will last a good long time so I can save up enough for another one when I will need it. Of course, I need to schedule a tune up and I think I may need brake pads. So for the next few months I will continue to use the payment money to get Baby in better shape.
This is a wonderful excuse for a big celebration. I have been ever so grateful to the people who helped me get Baby in the first place. She has been an excellent car that has run well and not needed a lot of work to keep it going. I am no good at picking cars, so I fully appreciate someone else's expertise and research. Not to mention setting up a sweet deal. I thank them from the bottom of my heart.
As for Baby, I have watched for opportunities to provide transportation to those who need a ride, especially people who are in the position I once was, of not owning a decent car. Baby has seen her share of guest riders over the years, and I will certainly continue that tradition. Drew has already put his fish line in the water. His idea is that when I get a new car, he should get Baby for his own. Not likely, but time will tell.
Meanwhile, let the dancing begin!
This is a wonderful excuse for a big celebration. I have been ever so grateful to the people who helped me get Baby in the first place. She has been an excellent car that has run well and not needed a lot of work to keep it going. I am no good at picking cars, so I fully appreciate someone else's expertise and research. Not to mention setting up a sweet deal. I thank them from the bottom of my heart.
As for Baby, I have watched for opportunities to provide transportation to those who need a ride, especially people who are in the position I once was, of not owning a decent car. Baby has seen her share of guest riders over the years, and I will certainly continue that tradition. Drew has already put his fish line in the water. His idea is that when I get a new car, he should get Baby for his own. Not likely, but time will tell.
Meanwhile, let the dancing begin!
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Midnight Mystery
At 11:59, a crowd had gathered outside the Library, clustered around tables of lemonade and chocolate chip cookies and pretzels. Mr Body lay dead on the floor in front of the Circulation Desk, and the characters of our game of Clue gathered to face the music. Mrs. Peacock, complete with feathers in her hair, Madam Black, Ms Rose, Ms. Peach, Lord Cranberry, Mr. Brown, and a host of others assembled near our announcer with the bull horn.
She exclaimed that Mr. Body's body had been discovered by our evening maintenance man. We needed help discovering who done it - in what room - with what weapon, and invited teams of 5 people to collect playing cards and enter the lights out Library to investigate. One by one the teams entered and selected a room to begin their search for the true story of who killed Mr. Body (who, btw, had come back to life as a zombie and was schlepping about the building, dragging one leg behind him and begging people to hurry up and figure out who had killed him).
Kids had a ball moving from the graduate study room to the archive room to the curriculum center to the reference desk and group study rooms and listening room, figuring out from their clues whodunnit. Screams punctuated the air and excited chatter rose and fell for over an hour as our freshmen became familiar with the library even though they didn't know that's what they were doing.
In the end, everyone was a winner, walking away with a candy bar. And for each team, the person who figured it out first got their name put in a drawing for the bigger prizes. Even I had a good time and I hate to play games. Now if they could just figure out how to move the midnight mystery to a better time, it would all be golden.
She exclaimed that Mr. Body's body had been discovered by our evening maintenance man. We needed help discovering who done it - in what room - with what weapon, and invited teams of 5 people to collect playing cards and enter the lights out Library to investigate. One by one the teams entered and selected a room to begin their search for the true story of who killed Mr. Body (who, btw, had come back to life as a zombie and was schlepping about the building, dragging one leg behind him and begging people to hurry up and figure out who had killed him).
Kids had a ball moving from the graduate study room to the archive room to the curriculum center to the reference desk and group study rooms and listening room, figuring out from their clues whodunnit. Screams punctuated the air and excited chatter rose and fell for over an hour as our freshmen became familiar with the library even though they didn't know that's what they were doing.
In the end, everyone was a winner, walking away with a candy bar. And for each team, the person who figured it out first got their name put in a drawing for the bigger prizes. Even I had a good time and I hate to play games. Now if they could just figure out how to move the midnight mystery to a better time, it would all be golden.
Monday, September 20, 2010
Jury Duty
Rats! I got the summons a week ago, and had to call last Friday for instructions. Sure enough, number A79 has to report at - gulp - 7:30 am! What? You have to be kidding! Downtown Rochester at the crack of dawn? I shuffled as much of my schedule as I could, rose in the dark of pre-day, climbed in my poor little car, and off I went.
Directions were clear enough, and there was plenty of parking available in the garage. I followed the huge signs for the Hall of Justice (is this a batman movie?) and found myself waiting in the security check line with 40 or 50 others waving their little blue forms. No admittance without the forms. The line moved fairly quickly since we could keep our shoes on, but it never seemed to get any shorter as more and more people appeared. Men had to remove their belts and all coats and sweaters had to come off.
We were ushered into a large foyer with only a few chairs. I was fortunate enough to get one. The foyer gradually filled until there were hundreds of us nervously waiting for the jury room to open. At last a woman announced that we should follow her into the official room where we turned in our forms and took another seat. Giant monitors splashed information about what we could expect as we took our places.
The court official got on the PA and welcomed us all to court. He thanked us for our commitment and explained the new system that had recently been passed into law. Turns out there are no longer any exemptions offered for jury duty. If you are 18, a resident of the county and breathing, you are in. So put the Juror sticker on your shirt or blouse, and read the booklet while you fill out a survey.
Then the next court official walked us through the process. Each of us were assigned to one of the morning court cases (4 cases, 400 jurors) for the selection process. If the case actually went to court, a jury would be selected from the candidates. If you were dismissed for any reason, you would return to the jurors room for reassignment - in case one of the other cases needed someone, or for one of the 3 afternoon cases.
They began reading names for the first case. I was about the tenth name called. So, there I had it. In 15 minutes the judge would send an officer to escort us to the courtroom where we would be either assigned to the jury or dismissed. We waited and waited and waited. No officer appeared for our judge. Two other groups went upstairs and we were still sitting there. The third case was delayed and the potential jurors were given permission to leave as long as they returned by 2pm.
We still waited. And waited. And waited. The woman next to me was so nervous she talked non stop, speculating as to what would happen if she were selected. She griped about the process and complained that women her age ought not to be forced to come and sit all day like this. The least they could do was bring us lunch. On and on her grumbling went. I am sure it was her nerves.
Finally, I said quietly, "At least you are not having to rush about at work or forced to spend the night in an airport." She blinked. "Well, that's true," she acquiesced. "I guess it could be worse." Still, she could not resist fussing. For each issue she raised, I suggested a reason to be glad is wasn't something more difficult.
I wasn't meaning to be obnoxious, but her attitude was spreading. Frankly, I think its a good thing to serve jury duty. People who have done it told me it wasn't so bad really, even when they had served on a case. Besides, if I were in trouble, I would want decent people to serve on my jury. I was half hoping to be selected even though it would mean I would have to take more days off work.
The poor woman finally turned to me and said, "You have a very good attitude about all this. I guess I should be thankful I can be here. After all, I am retired and all I do all day long is sit at home all alone and watch TV. Here I am in a room full of interesting people carrying on intelligent conversation and actually I am not having a hard time of it at all. I did bring a book to read, but the things we have talked about are so interesting it never occurred to me to take it out."
After that we chatted about the news items being broadcast on the screens around the room - fires in Manhattan and Iowa, an inner city school that is run like a military academy - all kinds of stuff. At long last they announced that our case had been plea bargained and we were released from that case.
All the afternoon cases had also been plea bargained. We were required to stay until a certain designated time. If any of the morning cases felt they needed more people, they had to let us know by a certain time. If we didn't get a call by then, we would be released to go home and we would not be called back until at least 8 years had passed.
We lapsed into sporadic conversation until the release announcement came through. I exited the parking lot, paying my $8 and headed for the nearest lunch place since we had missed lunch entirely. I was a bit disappointed not to have been selected, but a lot more relieved, especially since I would be able to do what my work schedule had listed for the week.
Check back in 8 years. Maybe next time I will go down the other path and actually serve. In the meantime, does it seem interesting to you that the city made 400 x $8 = $3,200 in parking for the day, and will do that everyday this week (x5 = $16,000) and probably most of the year (x 50 = $ 800,000)???? Does that seem right to you? Perhaps that new law wasn't so silly after all.
Directions were clear enough, and there was plenty of parking available in the garage. I followed the huge signs for the Hall of Justice (is this a batman movie?) and found myself waiting in the security check line with 40 or 50 others waving their little blue forms. No admittance without the forms. The line moved fairly quickly since we could keep our shoes on, but it never seemed to get any shorter as more and more people appeared. Men had to remove their belts and all coats and sweaters had to come off.
We were ushered into a large foyer with only a few chairs. I was fortunate enough to get one. The foyer gradually filled until there were hundreds of us nervously waiting for the jury room to open. At last a woman announced that we should follow her into the official room where we turned in our forms and took another seat. Giant monitors splashed information about what we could expect as we took our places.
The court official got on the PA and welcomed us all to court. He thanked us for our commitment and explained the new system that had recently been passed into law. Turns out there are no longer any exemptions offered for jury duty. If you are 18, a resident of the county and breathing, you are in. So put the Juror sticker on your shirt or blouse, and read the booklet while you fill out a survey.
Then the next court official walked us through the process. Each of us were assigned to one of the morning court cases (4 cases, 400 jurors) for the selection process. If the case actually went to court, a jury would be selected from the candidates. If you were dismissed for any reason, you would return to the jurors room for reassignment - in case one of the other cases needed someone, or for one of the 3 afternoon cases.
They began reading names for the first case. I was about the tenth name called. So, there I had it. In 15 minutes the judge would send an officer to escort us to the courtroom where we would be either assigned to the jury or dismissed. We waited and waited and waited. No officer appeared for our judge. Two other groups went upstairs and we were still sitting there. The third case was delayed and the potential jurors were given permission to leave as long as they returned by 2pm.
We still waited. And waited. And waited. The woman next to me was so nervous she talked non stop, speculating as to what would happen if she were selected. She griped about the process and complained that women her age ought not to be forced to come and sit all day like this. The least they could do was bring us lunch. On and on her grumbling went. I am sure it was her nerves.
Finally, I said quietly, "At least you are not having to rush about at work or forced to spend the night in an airport." She blinked. "Well, that's true," she acquiesced. "I guess it could be worse." Still, she could not resist fussing. For each issue she raised, I suggested a reason to be glad is wasn't something more difficult.
I wasn't meaning to be obnoxious, but her attitude was spreading. Frankly, I think its a good thing to serve jury duty. People who have done it told me it wasn't so bad really, even when they had served on a case. Besides, if I were in trouble, I would want decent people to serve on my jury. I was half hoping to be selected even though it would mean I would have to take more days off work.
The poor woman finally turned to me and said, "You have a very good attitude about all this. I guess I should be thankful I can be here. After all, I am retired and all I do all day long is sit at home all alone and watch TV. Here I am in a room full of interesting people carrying on intelligent conversation and actually I am not having a hard time of it at all. I did bring a book to read, but the things we have talked about are so interesting it never occurred to me to take it out."
After that we chatted about the news items being broadcast on the screens around the room - fires in Manhattan and Iowa, an inner city school that is run like a military academy - all kinds of stuff. At long last they announced that our case had been plea bargained and we were released from that case.
All the afternoon cases had also been plea bargained. We were required to stay until a certain designated time. If any of the morning cases felt they needed more people, they had to let us know by a certain time. If we didn't get a call by then, we would be released to go home and we would not be called back until at least 8 years had passed.
We lapsed into sporadic conversation until the release announcement came through. I exited the parking lot, paying my $8 and headed for the nearest lunch place since we had missed lunch entirely. I was a bit disappointed not to have been selected, but a lot more relieved, especially since I would be able to do what my work schedule had listed for the week.
Check back in 8 years. Maybe next time I will go down the other path and actually serve. In the meantime, does it seem interesting to you that the city made 400 x $8 = $3,200 in parking for the day, and will do that everyday this week (x5 = $16,000) and probably most of the year (x 50 = $ 800,000)???? Does that seem right to you? Perhaps that new law wasn't so silly after all.
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Intern!
Every year I offer the music students at Roberts an opportunity to perform and conduct at the church. I remember how I took my first position conducting a choir for pay and hadn't really had any serious experience. That poor choir - they had to put up with my struggles to figure out how to wave my arms about in a coherent way.
This year I am delighted that one of the student's has taken me up on the offer. I wish of course that I could offer him a small stipend, but I can offer him the experience and he is eager to learn to wave his arms about. He is being coached by the conducting professor at Roberts, and will conduct 1 piece each month for starters, leaving me more time to prepare music for the recital. At least that's the plan.
He does quite well, really. He has a good ear and once he gets some podium time, he will be an excellent conductor. I am honored that he is willing to come and work with us. I will try not to work him to death, and he has indicated that he really does not have the time to sing in our choir for the weeks he is not conducting. I get that - student life can be very demanding.
And I am proud of the choir who treats him with respect while not letting him get away with being unclear in his cues and gestures. I would have liked to have had such a good group to cut my teeth on. I am fortunate to have them now! Sometimes life is just good good good.
This year I am delighted that one of the student's has taken me up on the offer. I wish of course that I could offer him a small stipend, but I can offer him the experience and he is eager to learn to wave his arms about. He is being coached by the conducting professor at Roberts, and will conduct 1 piece each month for starters, leaving me more time to prepare music for the recital. At least that's the plan.
He does quite well, really. He has a good ear and once he gets some podium time, he will be an excellent conductor. I am honored that he is willing to come and work with us. I will try not to work him to death, and he has indicated that he really does not have the time to sing in our choir for the weeks he is not conducting. I get that - student life can be very demanding.
And I am proud of the choir who treats him with respect while not letting him get away with being unclear in his cues and gestures. I would have liked to have had such a good group to cut my teeth on. I am fortunate to have them now! Sometimes life is just good good good.
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Safe Arrival
Tah-dah! Mom did it! She made the long and arduous three day trip from New York to Tennessee, arriving in good spirits. I was very happy to hear my sister's voice saying that they had successfully completed their journey. Now the settling in process begins.
Mom is adjusting well. The castle in which she finds herself is beautiful, spacious, and spanking new. I visited last summer and found it a delightful and restful place. I'm sure it will have its little quirks as every new place that's not home will have. After all, Mom has lived in her Lake George A frame for decades. Some of my kids weren't even born yet when Dad was raising the rafters and we helped butter bricks and pull the A's into place.
When you are used to a place, even the creaks and groanings seem normal. So a new place will present the challenge of learning new sounds, new quirks, new particularities. How long does it take for the hot water to reach the tap in the bathroom? Does the showerhead in the bathroom have a little side spray where it shouldn't? Is the floor cold in winter? Does the air circulate evenly? Are there drafts when you are sitting still watching a movie?
All these little things will have to be processed and tucked away, helping the new digs become familiar and comfortable. Sometimes the process feels overwhelming. But that passes. I am sure Mom will soon find her way about and make the little adjustments to placements of chairs etc. that personalize her new space.
For today, I am just happy she got there in one piece and seems to be doing better. I will keep the prayers rolling and continue to check in. We plan to go there for Christmas and visit. I know that's a ways off, but it will get here soon enough. Meanwhile, back to work! There are children to feed.
Mom is adjusting well. The castle in which she finds herself is beautiful, spacious, and spanking new. I visited last summer and found it a delightful and restful place. I'm sure it will have its little quirks as every new place that's not home will have. After all, Mom has lived in her Lake George A frame for decades. Some of my kids weren't even born yet when Dad was raising the rafters and we helped butter bricks and pull the A's into place.
When you are used to a place, even the creaks and groanings seem normal. So a new place will present the challenge of learning new sounds, new quirks, new particularities. How long does it take for the hot water to reach the tap in the bathroom? Does the showerhead in the bathroom have a little side spray where it shouldn't? Is the floor cold in winter? Does the air circulate evenly? Are there drafts when you are sitting still watching a movie?
All these little things will have to be processed and tucked away, helping the new digs become familiar and comfortable. Sometimes the process feels overwhelming. But that passes. I am sure Mom will soon find her way about and make the little adjustments to placements of chairs etc. that personalize her new space.
For today, I am just happy she got there in one piece and seems to be doing better. I will keep the prayers rolling and continue to check in. We plan to go there for Christmas and visit. I know that's a ways off, but it will get here soon enough. Meanwhile, back to work! There are children to feed.
Friday, September 17, 2010
Half Way There
The call came during choir practice. The triumvirate had arrived safely at the hotel in Columbus and were happily eating dinner. The girls had convinced Mom to try a bite of steak and even a few forksful of chocolate cake! That's better than she has done in days.
Traveling yourself is demanding, but waiting to hear how someone you love is doing on a trip can be nerve wracking. I often wonder how people managed in days when communications were not what they are today.
When my kids were younger, I remember the evening newscaster asking "It's eleven o'clock. Do you know where your children are?" This naturally brought out all the sarcastic comments like 'not born yet' and such silliness. But I did always know where they were and the answer invariably was - 'in bed sleeping.'
Nowadays, just about anytime, anywhere I can text my kids and get an update on their whereabouts. Even if they were overseas, which thankfully they are not. Mom doesn't have a cell phone. She tried one once and didn't care for it. Too hard to figure out and too difficult to hear. So I can only keep track through my sisters, and they don't text really. Not like my kids do.
I used to be able to connect with Mom through email, but lately she is not up to checking in. I guess I will just have to be patient and revert to the old fashioned way of trusting that everything is OK unless I hear otherwise. And being patient. And praying. Tomorrow I have every reason to think they will safely arrive in Tennessee, safe and sound, QE2 and all.
So I continue to hold down the home front while Mom is traveling, and trust her guardian angels to surround her with protection and give her strength. All will be well.
Traveling yourself is demanding, but waiting to hear how someone you love is doing on a trip can be nerve wracking. I often wonder how people managed in days when communications were not what they are today.
When my kids were younger, I remember the evening newscaster asking "It's eleven o'clock. Do you know where your children are?" This naturally brought out all the sarcastic comments like 'not born yet' and such silliness. But I did always know where they were and the answer invariably was - 'in bed sleeping.'
Nowadays, just about anytime, anywhere I can text my kids and get an update on their whereabouts. Even if they were overseas, which thankfully they are not. Mom doesn't have a cell phone. She tried one once and didn't care for it. Too hard to figure out and too difficult to hear. So I can only keep track through my sisters, and they don't text really. Not like my kids do.
I used to be able to connect with Mom through email, but lately she is not up to checking in. I guess I will just have to be patient and revert to the old fashioned way of trusting that everything is OK unless I hear otherwise. And being patient. And praying. Tomorrow I have every reason to think they will safely arrive in Tennessee, safe and sound, QE2 and all.
So I continue to hold down the home front while Mom is traveling, and trust her guardian angels to surround her with protection and give her strength. All will be well.
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Seeing Mom Off
Mom arrived in Rochester at my sister's house last night, tired but OK. After she finished eating, Drew and I stopped by to visit. She was propped up with pillows in Jan's chair while Deb, Sue and Jan were buzzing about finishing trip plans and getting beds ready and taking care of last minute details.
Mom seemed glad to see us, and we chatted comfortably for awhile. I offered her the bag with her birthday present and card in it, and she liked the blanket, deciding to take it in the car with her to help her stay warm. She has a snazzy new walker with a seat that lets her move around better, except that sometimes it feels like it rolls away with her. She is still getting the hang of the brakes.
She is worried about the rest of the trip, but we chat about how well this first part went and how she should do fine tomorrow. We call Kiel and Andrea who are teaching at church. They will stop by as soon as they can to say a quick hello before Mom goes to bed. She is trying some new medication that will help her relax and recover. Getting the right dosage is the trick tonight.
I promise to come tomorrow morning to see her off. They plan to leave around 10 am and get as far as Columbus. I kiss her cheek and say a quick prayer for a good night's rest. I wish I could take the brunt of the travel off her shoulders, but this is something she will just have to do herself.
Mom seemed glad to see us, and we chatted comfortably for awhile. I offered her the bag with her birthday present and card in it, and she liked the blanket, deciding to take it in the car with her to help her stay warm. She has a snazzy new walker with a seat that lets her move around better, except that sometimes it feels like it rolls away with her. She is still getting the hang of the brakes.
She is worried about the rest of the trip, but we chat about how well this first part went and how she should do fine tomorrow. We call Kiel and Andrea who are teaching at church. They will stop by as soon as they can to say a quick hello before Mom goes to bed. She is trying some new medication that will help her relax and recover. Getting the right dosage is the trick tonight.
I promise to come tomorrow morning to see her off. They plan to leave around 10 am and get as far as Columbus. I kiss her cheek and say a quick prayer for a good night's rest. I wish I could take the brunt of the travel off her shoulders, but this is something she will just have to do herself.
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
B 12 Shot
Once again I get to have a little infusion of energy. One shot of strength coming up. I have to admit, it seems silly because I don't realize any appreciable benefit. Even the first 1,000 unit shot didn't rev my system up or make me energetic. Now I regularly get 200 units, and it feels no different to me than the heftier dosage.
I know the one area where it becomes apparent is that the "hit the wall" limit seems to have been removed. I know I do not reach the point of collapse as often or as quickly. I can now push myself to keep moving even when I am tired. At least a bit. If I miss too much sleep, I find myself susceptible to catching a cold or a flu. So perhaps it is that my immune system is stronger, not that my energy levels are higher.
Endurance, not hyper speed. That's a good thing. Every once in awhile I find myself approaching what feels like my usual energy levels. It's as delicious as chocolate mousse with raspberries to know you are functioning on all cylinders for a change. Maybe if I continue the B 12 shots, I will eventually get hyper speed back and not just durability.
I know the one area where it becomes apparent is that the "hit the wall" limit seems to have been removed. I know I do not reach the point of collapse as often or as quickly. I can now push myself to keep moving even when I am tired. At least a bit. If I miss too much sleep, I find myself susceptible to catching a cold or a flu. So perhaps it is that my immune system is stronger, not that my energy levels are higher.
Endurance, not hyper speed. That's a good thing. Every once in awhile I find myself approaching what feels like my usual energy levels. It's as delicious as chocolate mousse with raspberries to know you are functioning on all cylinders for a change. Maybe if I continue the B 12 shots, I will eventually get hyper speed back and not just durability.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Mom's Non Birthday
Today Mom turns 81. Not quite the same landmark as last year's big eight-o celebration. In fact Mom asked us not to make a fuss. She didn't want gifts or calls or cards and especially no flowers. She is not feeling up to it and is still struggling with just getting around.
Of course, we will respect her wishes, but we love her. While I am able to let the day go without talking to her, I do connect with my sisters who are with her this week. They have decided Mom should spend the winter in Tennessee with my sister the doctor who can oversee her recovery best. They will make the trip in Mom's car, wistfully named the QE2 (because it is as big as a boat!).
So they will be coming my way tomorrow on the first leg of their journey. I will give Mom her present then and sing her a happy birthday. I searched around to find the warmest, cuddliest, yellowest blanket I could find. Something to brighten her day, remind her that the sun will shine again, and that I wrap her in prayers and wishes for recovery every day.
They boys sign the card. I tuck in a small bag of M&M's and dub them energy pills with instructions to take one whenever she feels tired. Perhaps the small infusions of sugar and caffeine will help make the trip more tolerable.
I retire this evening in prayer for Mom. This is not easy, facing a challenge with out the man who has been part of your life for decades. Learning how to navigate on your own is never something you want to have to do. We all go through it, even if it is learning to live on your own and not home with your parents. But just knowing that its a common experience does not make it any easier to get through.
Hang in there, Mom. Next year this time will be less painful, and the year after, though you will still miss him, it will hurt a lot less. Then maybe we can start celebrating your birthday again. With presents and cake and everything. Happy Birthday anyway.
Of course, we will respect her wishes, but we love her. While I am able to let the day go without talking to her, I do connect with my sisters who are with her this week. They have decided Mom should spend the winter in Tennessee with my sister the doctor who can oversee her recovery best. They will make the trip in Mom's car, wistfully named the QE2 (because it is as big as a boat!).
So they will be coming my way tomorrow on the first leg of their journey. I will give Mom her present then and sing her a happy birthday. I searched around to find the warmest, cuddliest, yellowest blanket I could find. Something to brighten her day, remind her that the sun will shine again, and that I wrap her in prayers and wishes for recovery every day.
They boys sign the card. I tuck in a small bag of M&M's and dub them energy pills with instructions to take one whenever she feels tired. Perhaps the small infusions of sugar and caffeine will help make the trip more tolerable.
I retire this evening in prayer for Mom. This is not easy, facing a challenge with out the man who has been part of your life for decades. Learning how to navigate on your own is never something you want to have to do. We all go through it, even if it is learning to live on your own and not home with your parents. But just knowing that its a common experience does not make it any easier to get through.
Hang in there, Mom. Next year this time will be less painful, and the year after, though you will still miss him, it will hurt a lot less. Then maybe we can start celebrating your birthday again. With presents and cake and everything. Happy Birthday anyway.
Monday, September 13, 2010
Monday Midday Prayer
Every Monday from 12:15 to 12:30, I get to lead a prayer group in the Divine Hours. We pray for different aspects of the Roberts and Northeastern communities each time we come together. I had no idea what to expect the first time around. How pleasant to welcome 9 people, a mixture of staff and students.
It's a little nerve wracking, sharing a style of prayer that is more formal and liturgical than just coming together and praying silently and out loud. It felt awkward and strange. Even the little touches I brought to help create a sense of sacred space suddenly seemed outlandish. I had a purple quilted square, a little triangle hanging from a small stand, and a battery operated white pillar candle.
Together we sang the Psalm passages laid out for us in the Divine Hours for today. I do this by myself and it seems intimate and fulfilling to my soul. Together in a group is a different experience. I am concerned that people will find it too restrictive. It might be uncomfortable for those who don't worship this way and who have not stumbled across it on their own and found it to be vibrant.
Afterwards, one of the students came up excited. This is the way he worships back home. He was excited to discover that the same style exists here. He even offered to bring in his Psalter and I will be happy to take a look at his book and learn more ways of singing the Psalms.
Whew! It is perfectly OK to offer some options about how we pray here on campus. I am relieved to find out there are others who enjoy this style of prayer too.
It's a little nerve wracking, sharing a style of prayer that is more formal and liturgical than just coming together and praying silently and out loud. It felt awkward and strange. Even the little touches I brought to help create a sense of sacred space suddenly seemed outlandish. I had a purple quilted square, a little triangle hanging from a small stand, and a battery operated white pillar candle.
Together we sang the Psalm passages laid out for us in the Divine Hours for today. I do this by myself and it seems intimate and fulfilling to my soul. Together in a group is a different experience. I am concerned that people will find it too restrictive. It might be uncomfortable for those who don't worship this way and who have not stumbled across it on their own and found it to be vibrant.
Afterwards, one of the students came up excited. This is the way he worships back home. He was excited to discover that the same style exists here. He even offered to bring in his Psalter and I will be happy to take a look at his book and learn more ways of singing the Psalms.
Whew! It is perfectly OK to offer some options about how we pray here on campus. I am relieved to find out there are others who enjoy this style of prayer too.
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Choir Begins
Our first Sunday back in service after a summer's reprieve. How good it feels to see everyone, to catch up on summer activities, to know everyone is doing well. I am excited to be making music together. Our first anthem, a setting of Amazing Grace interwoven with Pachelbel's Canon, is a familiar one and we brushed it off well. The introit and benediction are new, but not overly demanding.
How wonderful it is to process down the aisle, our choir robes flowing, our quilted stoles all neat and clean and in line with the altar coverings. What a joy to give a downbeat and hear this wash of sound roll over you. The choir sang the anthem very well. People resonated with the familiar music. Best of all, to worship with a community where you are accepted in well understood traditional ways with others you know.
It's nice to be back.
How wonderful it is to process down the aisle, our choir robes flowing, our quilted stoles all neat and clean and in line with the altar coverings. What a joy to give a downbeat and hear this wash of sound roll over you. The choir sang the anthem very well. People resonated with the familiar music. Best of all, to worship with a community where you are accepted in well understood traditional ways with others you know.
It's nice to be back.
Saturday, September 11, 2010
Recital Rehearsal
It's asking a lot. To expect choir member who are volunteers, out of the goodness of their hearts, to help me prepare music for my degree recital. On top of the church music we are already planning to sing. It means extra rehearsals, and I thought about it a lot. Can I ask for Saturday rehearsals - every month?
We usually do an extra rehearsal before our Christmas cantata, and sometimes we have to add one before cluster choir. But every month for ten months? Am I asking too much? It will be a total of twenty hours. A half week of work. Just because I love singing and being involved with music doesn't necessarily mean everyone will be overjoyed at the idea.
I ask. Is it OK? People respond. For the most part, if they don't have a previous commitment, they are OK with it. I schedule it for early afternoon, thinking that gives people time to sleep in and maybe get some housework/laundry done. They prefer getting it out of the way in the morning. Better not to chop the day in half. I am OK with that.
Choirs seldom have a chance to become really comfortable with the music they are expected to sing. When I have sung with other organizations, I never quite feel ready to present a concert. I am still digesting and getting familiar with the music. Yes, I can sing it, but I have to pay attention to the marks on the page, focus, strain to get things right. I always wish I had just another week or two to prepare.
So my goal for this recital is to give people lots of time to be comfortable with the music. I would like it to flow from the heart and not have to get stuck in the head. Can the music become ingrained and intuitive? Can it be as natural as singing Happy Birthday? After all, this is not the kind of music you find yourself humming. I will work toward that idea. Then we can move beyond performance to expression. From translation to persuasion. From stiff and formal to natural.
Today I work on vocal production, understanding how we sing, how it differs from speaking, tuning the choir. We learn the Our Father chant. It is stiff and awkward. We work a bit on the Tavener. It feels strange. I see heads shaking. This is foreign for them. But it will get better. Hang in there. We will learn it and suddenly it will just flow out of us comfortably.
A good beginning. Now I just have to work on a strong second session.
We usually do an extra rehearsal before our Christmas cantata, and sometimes we have to add one before cluster choir. But every month for ten months? Am I asking too much? It will be a total of twenty hours. A half week of work. Just because I love singing and being involved with music doesn't necessarily mean everyone will be overjoyed at the idea.
I ask. Is it OK? People respond. For the most part, if they don't have a previous commitment, they are OK with it. I schedule it for early afternoon, thinking that gives people time to sleep in and maybe get some housework/laundry done. They prefer getting it out of the way in the morning. Better not to chop the day in half. I am OK with that.
Choirs seldom have a chance to become really comfortable with the music they are expected to sing. When I have sung with other organizations, I never quite feel ready to present a concert. I am still digesting and getting familiar with the music. Yes, I can sing it, but I have to pay attention to the marks on the page, focus, strain to get things right. I always wish I had just another week or two to prepare.
So my goal for this recital is to give people lots of time to be comfortable with the music. I would like it to flow from the heart and not have to get stuck in the head. Can the music become ingrained and intuitive? Can it be as natural as singing Happy Birthday? After all, this is not the kind of music you find yourself humming. I will work toward that idea. Then we can move beyond performance to expression. From translation to persuasion. From stiff and formal to natural.
Today I work on vocal production, understanding how we sing, how it differs from speaking, tuning the choir. We learn the Our Father chant. It is stiff and awkward. We work a bit on the Tavener. It feels strange. I see heads shaking. This is foreign for them. But it will get better. Hang in there. We will learn it and suddenly it will just flow out of us comfortably.
A good beginning. Now I just have to work on a strong second session.
Friday, September 10, 2010
Prayer Walk
My first exposure to a Prayer Walk was through the book Cloister Walk by Kathleen Norris - which I highly recommend. I had known about labyrinth walking and prayer. Kathleen's writing was the logical next step for me. Since then I have read more about praying and discovered tons of recorded or written prayers. And of course, my recital is based on THE prayer that Jesus taught us to pray.
On campus this year there is a call to prayer. Students feel the importance of praying. Faculty sense it also. Administration need prayer. These are demanding times, especially because of all the changes and adjustments. The theme that the chaplain's office has selected for the year is an emphasis on prayer.
Today we kicked off the season with a prayer walk. Students gathered at the cultural life center and divided into groups. Every area of campus had a group assigned to physically walk there and walk through and around the area, praying for people who work in that space, activities that occur there, etc. I was facilitator for the Library prayer group. There were three students in my group - 2 freshmen and one senior.
We entered the Library and began our prayer journey at the Circulation Desk. I introduced the staff in the area, then we stood in a circle, joined hands, and prayed for the service, the people, and the students and faculty who are affected by that service. We worked our way around the first floor and headed upstairs.
I had thought an hour a long time to spend in praying for the Library, but we actually had to cut our circuit short due to time constraints. Everyone we prayed for was very moved and delighted to know they were getting support and that students cared enough to come and lift them up. The students were amazed at all the areas of the library and all the work behind the scenes that goes on quietly about which they knew nothing.
It was a good and productive prayer walk. Not your usual personal contemplative endeavor, but surely precious to all and pleasing to God.
On campus this year there is a call to prayer. Students feel the importance of praying. Faculty sense it also. Administration need prayer. These are demanding times, especially because of all the changes and adjustments. The theme that the chaplain's office has selected for the year is an emphasis on prayer.
Today we kicked off the season with a prayer walk. Students gathered at the cultural life center and divided into groups. Every area of campus had a group assigned to physically walk there and walk through and around the area, praying for people who work in that space, activities that occur there, etc. I was facilitator for the Library prayer group. There were three students in my group - 2 freshmen and one senior.
We entered the Library and began our prayer journey at the Circulation Desk. I introduced the staff in the area, then we stood in a circle, joined hands, and prayed for the service, the people, and the students and faculty who are affected by that service. We worked our way around the first floor and headed upstairs.
I had thought an hour a long time to spend in praying for the Library, but we actually had to cut our circuit short due to time constraints. Everyone we prayed for was very moved and delighted to know they were getting support and that students cared enough to come and lift them up. The students were amazed at all the areas of the library and all the work behind the scenes that goes on quietly about which they knew nothing.
It was a good and productive prayer walk. Not your usual personal contemplative endeavor, but surely precious to all and pleasing to God.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Floral Surprise
Sugar and I headed out the door at a ridiculous 5:47 am. The morning was chilly and wisps of fog wafted through the grey sky. Car windows were dripping with moisture and the dew on the grass was deep enough to coat your shoes in one quick step.
I pulled the hood of my sweater over my shivering head and stepped into the morning gloom, Sugar gingerly picking her way among the twigs and leaves scattered across the sidewalk. I almost didn't notice the leafy morning glory vines draped over their trellis. I love the deep purple throats of the little glory trumpets. The majestic color is so rich you believe the blossoms to be made of velvet.
Imagine my surprise when I discovered three new blossoms that were not deep purple, but instead a ruby lavendar. Odd reddish color. They jarred glaringly against the green vines and purple flowers. In some sort of avant way, they were painfully bright, like some out of place twilight reflection of a sun nearly spent. I had no time to peruse their curiousness. Sugar strained against the leash, eager to deposit her morning duty on the other side of the building.
I followed her eager lead, but the garish flowers were burned into my retinas, leaving little shadow blobs fading from view as Sugar and I continued our walk. Quelle surprise!
I pulled the hood of my sweater over my shivering head and stepped into the morning gloom, Sugar gingerly picking her way among the twigs and leaves scattered across the sidewalk. I almost didn't notice the leafy morning glory vines draped over their trellis. I love the deep purple throats of the little glory trumpets. The majestic color is so rich you believe the blossoms to be made of velvet.
Imagine my surprise when I discovered three new blossoms that were not deep purple, but instead a ruby lavendar. Odd reddish color. They jarred glaringly against the green vines and purple flowers. In some sort of avant way, they were painfully bright, like some out of place twilight reflection of a sun nearly spent. I had no time to peruse their curiousness. Sugar strained against the leash, eager to deposit her morning duty on the other side of the building.
I followed her eager lead, but the garish flowers were burned into my retinas, leaving little shadow blobs fading from view as Sugar and I continued our walk. Quelle surprise!
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Dear Coach
I understand that you had a little talk with my son the other day. You insinuated that he was being a wuss by not practicing with the team despite a sprained ankle, that there was another boy whose leg was all shades of purple and black who was running like a trouper and fully participating. You denigrated the opinion of the doctor who told him to stay off it and ice it down and not play until it was in a better shape.
Might I suggest that your advice is not only out of date, but dangerous? Consider that professional teams have trainers and therapists to assist injured players. Where is your team trainer? My son was bold enough to tell you that he preferred following his doctor's advice and being able to play for the rest of the season and walk well throughout life than to risk permanent injury and you asked him if he thought you would steer him wrong. He was wise enough to just walk away. Good for him. He is more mature than I realized.
Yes, I think you are steering him wrong and I am not afraid to tell you so. Please understand that I am not one of those overprotective Moms who coddles her children. I have raised 5 sons, 4 of whom played sports. I believe participation in sports is valuable in teaching young men important lessons about life, and I do not baby them. I expect them not only to be upstanding men, but to be WISE.
The lessons in life that I find valuable don't include disrespecting the body God created and pushing yourself beyond reasonable limitations. I was totally aghast to hear you say at the sports banquet two years ago that you were so proud of two of your football players who removed casts from broken arms to play in a game and that they went against their mothers' wishes to do so - and you thought that was commendable!
If you are going to teach my son a life lesson through his game playing, then:
*Teach him to trust God to help him do his best and understand things clearly and be with him in his endeavors.
*Teach him to value each member of the team for who they are and what they contribute.
*Teach him to have the back of the players on his team and support the other players when they need help.
*Teach him to see his opponent not as the enemy, but as a necessary challenge to help him grow stronger.
*Teach him that the proper response to a play that didn't work is not to grumble and complain or make excuses, but to evaluate what went wrong, take the truth and change/learn/grow/do better next time.
*Teach him that when he makes mistakes, it’s not the end of the world. Own up to them, ask forgiveness, learn from them, and move forward without self flagellation.
*Teach him to play fairly, and when he is not treated that way, to acknowledge that life is not always fair and sometimes you just have to take your lumps and move on without malice. Other times the issue affects others as well and it may worth speaking out to be heard. Accomplish this through non violence.
*Teach him not to take himself too seriously, and to have fun and enjoy the game/life.
*Teach him that displays of anger and violence will not get you what you want. Caring about others is more important.
*Teach him that it takes a lot of discipline and practice to do well at life's undertakings.
*Teach him the importance of showing up on time every time and giving your all because others are depending on you. (This does not mean to your own permanent detriment, but within what you are able to give - professional trainers will tell you that "no pain, no gain" is an out dated, faulty and injurious attitude).
*Teach him that it’s important to have a game plan AND a back-up plan, and that these plans should be modified depending on what is being experienced - real time feedback.
*Teach him that you can trust God to be with you, strengthen you, and help you and still lose and that's OK.
*Teach him that it’s not winning that counts, but how you play the game.
There are a dozen plus quick ideas about what I would want for you to praise my son for and encourage him to be like as he grows into adulthood.
But teach him to play on an injured ankle because macho men ignore the God given warning sign of pain that tells you something is wrong in your body? I don't think so. Please don’t teach my son that. You got a problem with this? Come see me. We can chat.
Might I suggest that your advice is not only out of date, but dangerous? Consider that professional teams have trainers and therapists to assist injured players. Where is your team trainer? My son was bold enough to tell you that he preferred following his doctor's advice and being able to play for the rest of the season and walk well throughout life than to risk permanent injury and you asked him if he thought you would steer him wrong. He was wise enough to just walk away. Good for him. He is more mature than I realized.
Yes, I think you are steering him wrong and I am not afraid to tell you so. Please understand that I am not one of those overprotective Moms who coddles her children. I have raised 5 sons, 4 of whom played sports. I believe participation in sports is valuable in teaching young men important lessons about life, and I do not baby them. I expect them not only to be upstanding men, but to be WISE.
The lessons in life that I find valuable don't include disrespecting the body God created and pushing yourself beyond reasonable limitations. I was totally aghast to hear you say at the sports banquet two years ago that you were so proud of two of your football players who removed casts from broken arms to play in a game and that they went against their mothers' wishes to do so - and you thought that was commendable!
If you are going to teach my son a life lesson through his game playing, then:
*Teach him to trust God to help him do his best and understand things clearly and be with him in his endeavors.
*Teach him to value each member of the team for who they are and what they contribute.
*Teach him to have the back of the players on his team and support the other players when they need help.
*Teach him to see his opponent not as the enemy, but as a necessary challenge to help him grow stronger.
*Teach him that the proper response to a play that didn't work is not to grumble and complain or make excuses, but to evaluate what went wrong, take the truth and change/learn/grow/do better next time.
*Teach him that when he makes mistakes, it’s not the end of the world. Own up to them, ask forgiveness, learn from them, and move forward without self flagellation.
*Teach him to play fairly, and when he is not treated that way, to acknowledge that life is not always fair and sometimes you just have to take your lumps and move on without malice. Other times the issue affects others as well and it may worth speaking out to be heard. Accomplish this through non violence.
*Teach him not to take himself too seriously, and to have fun and enjoy the game/life.
*Teach him that displays of anger and violence will not get you what you want. Caring about others is more important.
*Teach him that it takes a lot of discipline and practice to do well at life's undertakings.
*Teach him the importance of showing up on time every time and giving your all because others are depending on you. (This does not mean to your own permanent detriment, but within what you are able to give - professional trainers will tell you that "no pain, no gain" is an out dated, faulty and injurious attitude).
*Teach him that it’s important to have a game plan AND a back-up plan, and that these plans should be modified depending on what is being experienced - real time feedback.
*Teach him that you can trust God to be with you, strengthen you, and help you and still lose and that's OK.
*Teach him that it’s not winning that counts, but how you play the game.
There are a dozen plus quick ideas about what I would want for you to praise my son for and encourage him to be like as he grows into adulthood.
But teach him to play on an injured ankle because macho men ignore the God given warning sign of pain that tells you something is wrong in your body? I don't think so. Please don’t teach my son that. You got a problem with this? Come see me. We can chat.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Class Craziness
Every week I am asked to read several hundred pages in a variety of resources, assimilate that material, and write in 1,000 words about some aspect of the topic at hand. It forces you to wrestle with the material and gain better understanding, but it is often like poking your eye out with a stick.
Lord have mercy, you read until your eyes are literally crossed and you are seeing double. Your brain sends out flashing SOS signals for reprieve. Sometimes your head aches from being too crammed with stuff. Its like running up a thousand steps without pausing for a breather. It's crazy even if I am fascinated by the topic.
The one thing that keeps you going is that you know its temporary. You can count the days until the insanity ends, and then know you will look back at how far you have come and be proud. When I find myself indoors reading and sweating out a paper on beautiful autumn days, I remind myself that its temporary. In only ten more weeks (plus two break weeks) I will be done. That's not so overwhelming. I can do that. Hang on. Craziness does not last forever.
Lord have mercy, you read until your eyes are literally crossed and you are seeing double. Your brain sends out flashing SOS signals for reprieve. Sometimes your head aches from being too crammed with stuff. Its like running up a thousand steps without pausing for a breather. It's crazy even if I am fascinated by the topic.
The one thing that keeps you going is that you know its temporary. You can count the days until the insanity ends, and then know you will look back at how far you have come and be proud. When I find myself indoors reading and sweating out a paper on beautiful autumn days, I remind myself that its temporary. In only ten more weeks (plus two break weeks) I will be done. That's not so overwhelming. I can do that. Hang on. Craziness does not last forever.
Monday, September 6, 2010
Labor Day - No Kidding
We seldom take this holiday off because the semester is too new and there are classes. Staff have the option of either working and taking a day later or taking the day off. Most of them opt to be here if they can - same reason. Plus our student workers have just returned and aren't quite back in the routines yet.
For so early on in the season, the reference desk in inundated! Research is already going full tilt, and serious research at that. Honors projects about the effect of music on autistic children (not therapy, just music for memorize things by, like singing the alphabet etc.). Lots of interesting projects like that. These students are indeed laboring hard.
You can almost feel the intensity of study in the air. There is a certain quietness and somber concentration. Student peruse the new book shelf with an attitude of serious contemplation. The printer spews out non stop piles of articles and scholarly material enough to fill a university library. Keyboard clack papers into being. Pages of reference books rustle. It is indeed a day filled with labor. I love it.
For so early on in the season, the reference desk in inundated! Research is already going full tilt, and serious research at that. Honors projects about the effect of music on autistic children (not therapy, just music for memorize things by, like singing the alphabet etc.). Lots of interesting projects like that. These students are indeed laboring hard.
You can almost feel the intensity of study in the air. There is a certain quietness and somber concentration. Student peruse the new book shelf with an attitude of serious contemplation. The printer spews out non stop piles of articles and scholarly material enough to fill a university library. Keyboard clack papers into being. Pages of reference books rustle. It is indeed a day filled with labor. I love it.
Sunday, September 5, 2010
Road Trip
It hasn't been going so well for Mom. At first, the pulled muscle in her back seemed to be getting better. Then she stopped taking the ibuprofen, and the pain got beyond her. So my brother took her to the ER where they gave her a pain med that made her start throwing up. Three days later she was still throwing up. Bummer.
My sister went out to help, and long story short, Mom lost a lot of weight and muscle tone and started having trouble navigating on her own. Jan has been with her for awhile. I offered to come out, but Jan told me not to. Then I found out one of my other sisters was going to come stay with Mom, but Jan still told me not to come as Mom was not up to it.
Well, phooey on that. I have no access to Mom via phone or email and I am concerned. I decide to take a day trip and check in on her. Besides, Kiel needs to have the starter in his car fixed by the mechanic in Ballston Spa and I would like to see my grandson Ramseyes and my son and his wife. We pile into Kiel's car and head out.
I take the back seat. I haven't been in the backseat of his or my car in eons. Its not so bad except for the sun beating on my head. I would have like to have left a bit earlier in the morning, but the boys just couldn't seem to get their act together. Anyway, we finally got there around 2. Kiel dumped me off at Marks and I spent some time with Ramseyes who was full of energy.
He seemed happy enough, and we played a bit. It was nice to chat with Faith and catch up a bit over a hamburg and soda. As soon as Kiel's car was fixed, we headed for Lake George. Mom was just finishing dinner and seemed happy to see us. We talked for a bit and she told me how the whole thing had happened.
We only stayed an hour. I didn't want to tire Mom. It was nice to see my sister from California. We don't often get to chat either. After a quick stop at Martha's ice cream place, we jumped back on the thruway and headed home, getting back after midnight. Well worth the travel to see Mom and encourage her to hang in there. These set backs can take a long time to recover from, but eventually things improve.
Besides, what is Labor Day without a bit of labor?
My sister went out to help, and long story short, Mom lost a lot of weight and muscle tone and started having trouble navigating on her own. Jan has been with her for awhile. I offered to come out, but Jan told me not to. Then I found out one of my other sisters was going to come stay with Mom, but Jan still told me not to come as Mom was not up to it.
Well, phooey on that. I have no access to Mom via phone or email and I am concerned. I decide to take a day trip and check in on her. Besides, Kiel needs to have the starter in his car fixed by the mechanic in Ballston Spa and I would like to see my grandson Ramseyes and my son and his wife. We pile into Kiel's car and head out.
I take the back seat. I haven't been in the backseat of his or my car in eons. Its not so bad except for the sun beating on my head. I would have like to have left a bit earlier in the morning, but the boys just couldn't seem to get their act together. Anyway, we finally got there around 2. Kiel dumped me off at Marks and I spent some time with Ramseyes who was full of energy.
He seemed happy enough, and we played a bit. It was nice to chat with Faith and catch up a bit over a hamburg and soda. As soon as Kiel's car was fixed, we headed for Lake George. Mom was just finishing dinner and seemed happy to see us. We talked for a bit and she told me how the whole thing had happened.
We only stayed an hour. I didn't want to tire Mom. It was nice to see my sister from California. We don't often get to chat either. After a quick stop at Martha's ice cream place, we jumped back on the thruway and headed home, getting back after midnight. Well worth the travel to see Mom and encourage her to hang in there. These set backs can take a long time to recover from, but eventually things improve.
Besides, what is Labor Day without a bit of labor?
Saturday, September 4, 2010
Catching Up
Housework. It never goes away. I have this dream that some good fairy will come to my apartment while I am at work and make it all go poof. Sort of like the three fairies in Sleeping Beauty. Bing! Instant clean and everything in its place.
I also have this unrealistic expectation that the boys will pick up at least after themselves. You know, if you dirty a dish, put it in the sink if not the dishwasher? And get your dirty socks in the laundry basket? Of course, that doesn't really happen.
They also have this unrealistic expectation that I, as the Mother person, will do all that household stuff myself because I am after all the responsible adult and they have full and busy lives. Never mind that I work two jobs and go to graduate school and have a life of my own!
Something here is awry. Perhaps I should admit all the unrealistic expectations, suck it up, and hire a maid. Someone to come twice a week and do laundry and dishes, the bathroom and the vacuuming. I wonder what that would cost and if I could live with the embarrassment of having someone see the house a total wreck?
Well, for now, we have diviied up the times when someone will at least make some attempt to do the cleaning. I get Monday nights, Wednesday mornings and Saturdays. Kiel takes Fridays, and we live in constant hope that Drew will rise to the Thursday slot. And hopefully Andrea will take Tuesdays. We shall see if this system works better than the division by task.
Last year we tried Drew does laundry, Kiel does cooking and I do dishes. I have to admit that was not exactly successful. Sigh. Its such a small apartment. You wouldn't think it would be such a problem!
If this doesn't work, I will be calling a maid service. After all, you can only take so much chaos before you become dysfunctional!
I also have this unrealistic expectation that the boys will pick up at least after themselves. You know, if you dirty a dish, put it in the sink if not the dishwasher? And get your dirty socks in the laundry basket? Of course, that doesn't really happen.
They also have this unrealistic expectation that I, as the Mother person, will do all that household stuff myself because I am after all the responsible adult and they have full and busy lives. Never mind that I work two jobs and go to graduate school and have a life of my own!
Something here is awry. Perhaps I should admit all the unrealistic expectations, suck it up, and hire a maid. Someone to come twice a week and do laundry and dishes, the bathroom and the vacuuming. I wonder what that would cost and if I could live with the embarrassment of having someone see the house a total wreck?
Well, for now, we have diviied up the times when someone will at least make some attempt to do the cleaning. I get Monday nights, Wednesday mornings and Saturdays. Kiel takes Fridays, and we live in constant hope that Drew will rise to the Thursday slot. And hopefully Andrea will take Tuesdays. We shall see if this system works better than the division by task.
Last year we tried Drew does laundry, Kiel does cooking and I do dishes. I have to admit that was not exactly successful. Sigh. Its such a small apartment. You wouldn't think it would be such a problem!
If this doesn't work, I will be calling a maid service. After all, you can only take so much chaos before you become dysfunctional!
Friday, September 3, 2010
9 to 5 non stop
Ever have one of those days when you are booked for meetings from the moment you step into your office until the moment you go home? Today was one of those days. We have been working very hard to improve our services and evaluate our results through statistical data in order to provide the sort of "every experience matters" service that will help our faculty and students do well in their work.
It requires tons of behind the scenes planning, learning to use new resources, massaging the wrinkles out of new services, being honest with ourselves about how things are or are not working. It is downright tiring at times. Rather like running on a treadmill for hours to lose a half a pound. But then you get the breakthroughs that make it all worth while.
Today when I came into the library, I was greeted by a huge banner hung from the balcony that reads:
B. Thomas Golisano Library: Academic Library of the Year
Complete with the RRLC seal and logo. Oh, yeah! Our students and faculty voted us as top notch. That's why we keep having days of meetings from one end to the other. That's why we keep working to do better even though we do well. Because our students and faculty need a great resource to help with their academic endeavors, and they appreciate us!
Still, I'm kinda glad its Friday and I get to rest up a bit tomorrow!
It requires tons of behind the scenes planning, learning to use new resources, massaging the wrinkles out of new services, being honest with ourselves about how things are or are not working. It is downright tiring at times. Rather like running on a treadmill for hours to lose a half a pound. But then you get the breakthroughs that make it all worth while.
Today when I came into the library, I was greeted by a huge banner hung from the balcony that reads:
B. Thomas Golisano Library: Academic Library of the Year
Complete with the RRLC seal and logo. Oh, yeah! Our students and faculty voted us as top notch. That's why we keep having days of meetings from one end to the other. That's why we keep working to do better even though we do well. Because our students and faculty need a great resource to help with their academic endeavors, and they appreciate us!
Still, I'm kinda glad its Friday and I get to rest up a bit tomorrow!
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Finney Orientation
Unusual for a high school to invite their students, returning and new, to come in, meet their teachers, check out the classrooms, and bring their parents to hear the guidelines and regulations about conduct and dress. But Finney does it every year. Drew has gone ahead of me to help set up the Robotics display and recruit new students.
I am careful to make sure I can get away from work to be there. So often I cannot attend these sorts of parent events. Usually, they schedule them on Thursday evenings, and I have choir rehearsal then and cannot go. Perhaps that is a blessing in disguise. If I went to a Parent Teacher Organization meeting, I would likely end up volunteering for something, and really I do not have the luxury of adding anything else to my schedule.
We do the usual awkward thing of not sitting with our kids and trying not to embarrass them by saying something dumb. I listen to the litany of do's and don'ts, remembering from last year the long explanation about no gum chewing, and being surprised to discover that I can send in a note ahead of time when Drew has a dentist appointment. That way I don't have to come in and request he be pulled from class. Good.
We wander around from room to room, meeting teachers. I am beginning to know these teachers a bit after three years. There have been recent changes, some good, some the value of which remains to be seen. The school repaired the roof over the summer. That was good. They moved the Spanish teacher into the English literature position. They rented the facility to a church on the weekends to help with expenses. They hired a new Spanish teacher. They added bleachers in the gym.
We will see how this year goes. At least they get to start with a clean record. No zeros to be overcome. Drew tried to connect with his locker and put his supplies safely away, but wasn't able to. So on the first day of school, I will have to drive in so he can fish stuff out of the trunk. There is no way he can cart all that heavy stuff on the bus. Ah, well. At least its early in the morning and I will still be able to get to work in a timely fashion.
Only two more years of high school for Drew. He is already strategizing about college. We will likely be making some trips this year to check out a few places. Yup. Good and remains to be seen. Stay tuned.
I am careful to make sure I can get away from work to be there. So often I cannot attend these sorts of parent events. Usually, they schedule them on Thursday evenings, and I have choir rehearsal then and cannot go. Perhaps that is a blessing in disguise. If I went to a Parent Teacher Organization meeting, I would likely end up volunteering for something, and really I do not have the luxury of adding anything else to my schedule.
We do the usual awkward thing of not sitting with our kids and trying not to embarrass them by saying something dumb. I listen to the litany of do's and don'ts, remembering from last year the long explanation about no gum chewing, and being surprised to discover that I can send in a note ahead of time when Drew has a dentist appointment. That way I don't have to come in and request he be pulled from class. Good.
We wander around from room to room, meeting teachers. I am beginning to know these teachers a bit after three years. There have been recent changes, some good, some the value of which remains to be seen. The school repaired the roof over the summer. That was good. They moved the Spanish teacher into the English literature position. They rented the facility to a church on the weekends to help with expenses. They hired a new Spanish teacher. They added bleachers in the gym.
We will see how this year goes. At least they get to start with a clean record. No zeros to be overcome. Drew tried to connect with his locker and put his supplies safely away, but wasn't able to. So on the first day of school, I will have to drive in so he can fish stuff out of the trunk. There is no way he can cart all that heavy stuff on the bus. Ah, well. At least its early in the morning and I will still be able to get to work in a timely fashion.
Only two more years of high school for Drew. He is already strategizing about college. We will likely be making some trips this year to check out a few places. Yup. Good and remains to be seen. Stay tuned.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Convocation
Attendance was a bit skinny this year. The bookstore has a new policy that prevents you from renting your regalia for the entire year. Instead, you rent for each event and pay each time. Adds up to a lot more money, and people are being selective as to which event they will attend. Of course, for those who own their own gown, hood and hat, its not an issue. But for those of us who never bothered to purchase one (especially if we are still working on degrees!), it adds up.
Its always wonderful to see all our faculty come together to mark the beginning of the academic year. Bright hood colors decorate our serious black gowns, sleeves fluttering, flags flying. It is our moment to remind ourselves just why we do what we do before we get into the thick of it, buried in workloads and lectures and papers and all. Why do we come back year after year, always hopeful, always striving to do better, to make a difference?
Because we believe. We believe the next generation will have answers to address the broken pieces of past eras. We believe that this year's crop of kids will get farther down the road quicker than we did, that they will learn from the past and pave the way for the future. That all is not lost and there is hope.
Well, enough rose colored dreaming. For now, I am content to be part of something larger than myself, to be surrounded by a caring and positive community with all its foibles and characters and machinations. I already feel an urge to pray for these students, to want them to succeed, to encourage them to step up. It will be a good year. I can feel it. Great kickoff! Let us convote away.
Its always wonderful to see all our faculty come together to mark the beginning of the academic year. Bright hood colors decorate our serious black gowns, sleeves fluttering, flags flying. It is our moment to remind ourselves just why we do what we do before we get into the thick of it, buried in workloads and lectures and papers and all. Why do we come back year after year, always hopeful, always striving to do better, to make a difference?
Because we believe. We believe the next generation will have answers to address the broken pieces of past eras. We believe that this year's crop of kids will get farther down the road quicker than we did, that they will learn from the past and pave the way for the future. That all is not lost and there is hope.
Well, enough rose colored dreaming. For now, I am content to be part of something larger than myself, to be surrounded by a caring and positive community with all its foibles and characters and machinations. I already feel an urge to pray for these students, to want them to succeed, to encourage them to step up. It will be a good year. I can feel it. Great kickoff! Let us convote away.
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