If you have a dog, you soon meet other dog owners (sort of like with children, you get to meet lots of parents). Early in the morning, one of the joys of Sugar's jaunts is being able to greet friends and not-so-friends. We have gotten to know a jittery collie who prances nervously and a nonchalant golden retriever who is generally sporting a Frisbee. There are a few smaller dogs we occasionally encounter who will allow Sugar to sniff hello, and lots of bigger dogs that set her off on a frenzy.
This morning, we were fortunate to see the collie, the retriever, and a small brown poodle. Sugar gets so excited she is hard to hold back. She leaps and whines and sniffs the air excitedly. She is as eager to greet the owners as the dogs, and all the women (!) make a big fuss over how cute Sugar is while their dogs looked on, bored.
On the way back to our apartment, Sugar also discovered an uppity cat curled on the window sill of one of the lower apartments. The cat stared at Sugar's antics with great disdain, then lazily and with no show of emotion, batted the window and slipped away under the blind out of sight. Sugar ran in circles for a few minutes, then was off chasing a squirrel.
I am sure Sugar was thinking about how grand the day had begun. I wonder if I will encounter my own 3 friends and an enemy and have as good a time doing so today. One thing I am sure of - its likely I will end up chasing squirrels myself!
Friday, September 30, 2011
Thursday, September 29, 2011
Christmas Star
I have longed for Christmas to come early this year. I am not sure why I want it to be Christmas this soon. Maybe because this has been a demanding year. Maybe because I am tired of battling cancer. Maybe because I am getting old and I need to regain a touch of my childhood. Whatever the reason, I long for some time to curl up in a cozy cocoon of blankets and not do ANYTHING. No schedules, no deadlines, no demands from others. Just peace and quiet. Silence and comfort. Recapture that magical moment when I was a child when the world stood still for my beating heart in excited anticipation of joy and laughter.
To that end, I am beginning to look for signs of Christmas. They are all around me. Today I discovered a pumpkin vine in full blossom. The bright yellow flower was the shape of a perfect star - the star of Bethlehem. Filled with light and vibrancy. Anticipating a special event. I stand admiring its beauty until Sugar begins to whine with impatience. Christmas is coming. Yahoo.
And I move on content in the knowledge that Christmas can be whenever I need it to happen. Like today.
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Cancer Support Group
I have thought about going to the cancer support group at Peace a number of times, but they meet on Wednesday nights when I am usually at the reference desk. This semester for the first time I am not working nights because of the shortage of people for the circ area. So it occurred to me that I should take advantage of this. It won't last - maybe not even for the entire semester since I may end up back at reference once we hire a new person.
I find my way there, and am warmly greeted by people I mostly know. We pray, then watch part of a video that I already own (Psalm 23 for Cancer Patients). We divide into patients and care givers to reflect on what we have seen. After introductions, we patients share our experiences a bit. Some are new to cancer, some like myself have been at it a long time.
A few cry openly, pressed by their experiences. Some try to laugh it off. Others are quiet like myself (and I am not usually one of the quiet ones, as you know). None of us pretends to know the answers. All of us want to encourage others as best we can. It is clear we are a fellowship of kindred spirits who, like it or not, are walking the same path.
I have never found support groups to be helpful before. Usually they are sessions of weeping and wailing that wallow in the muck and make no progress. Or they are filled with advice that, while well meaning, is not helpful. But tonight is different. I can just sit and allow myself to feel the full extent of what I have had to go through without needing to "make it better."
We have so few places where we can lament without making others feel bad. This is one rare opportunity to let those feelings surface and be voiced (aloud or silently) as we stare at each other, battle wounds and all. We remember having no hair like one woman, or thinning hair like another woman, or aches and pains like one of the men, or fatigue to the point of just focusing on breathing, like another person. We know what that is like.
And we give each other permission to cry about it. The counselor sitting with us has had cancer herself. She knows the importance of acknowledging the crap. She does not tell us any magic formula for learning to be happy despite the pain. This is good. I can't do this with friends who don't know what cancer is. They want to make me feel better. I sure can't do this with my children. They don't want to think about it. I can no longer do this with my Mom because she has retreated into her own world of pain. If I mention it to a doctor, they send me for tests.
So this is welcomed. A place to just feel bad for awhile. To raise our fists in the air and say "this stinks." And know that someone understands that. We do not wallow in it. We do not pull ourselves up by bootstraps. We do not DO anything. We just are. We are honest. And that is good.
I find my way there, and am warmly greeted by people I mostly know. We pray, then watch part of a video that I already own (Psalm 23 for Cancer Patients). We divide into patients and care givers to reflect on what we have seen. After introductions, we patients share our experiences a bit. Some are new to cancer, some like myself have been at it a long time.
A few cry openly, pressed by their experiences. Some try to laugh it off. Others are quiet like myself (and I am not usually one of the quiet ones, as you know). None of us pretends to know the answers. All of us want to encourage others as best we can. It is clear we are a fellowship of kindred spirits who, like it or not, are walking the same path.
I have never found support groups to be helpful before. Usually they are sessions of weeping and wailing that wallow in the muck and make no progress. Or they are filled with advice that, while well meaning, is not helpful. But tonight is different. I can just sit and allow myself to feel the full extent of what I have had to go through without needing to "make it better."
We have so few places where we can lament without making others feel bad. This is one rare opportunity to let those feelings surface and be voiced (aloud or silently) as we stare at each other, battle wounds and all. We remember having no hair like one woman, or thinning hair like another woman, or aches and pains like one of the men, or fatigue to the point of just focusing on breathing, like another person. We know what that is like.
And we give each other permission to cry about it. The counselor sitting with us has had cancer herself. She knows the importance of acknowledging the crap. She does not tell us any magic formula for learning to be happy despite the pain. This is good. I can't do this with friends who don't know what cancer is. They want to make me feel better. I sure can't do this with my children. They don't want to think about it. I can no longer do this with my Mom because she has retreated into her own world of pain. If I mention it to a doctor, they send me for tests.
So this is welcomed. A place to just feel bad for awhile. To raise our fists in the air and say "this stinks." And know that someone understands that. We do not wallow in it. We do not pull ourselves up by bootstraps. We do not DO anything. We just are. We are honest. And that is good.
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Orange Delivery
Drew had a hard time getting up this morning. I must have called him a dozen times, urging him to hurry. He stumbles about trying to get ready, dropping stuff, mumbling. At last he heads out the door. I look at the clock. He is very late and I wonder if he will even make the bus. But after ten minutes I assume he managed to get to the stop on time and I return to my own preparations. Bzzz. My phone goes off. A text from Drew on the bus. He forgot the oranges he so carefully cut up last night for the team to consume at half time in today's game.
I snort. No way I can do anything about that. Too bad. I am sure the team would have appreciated it, but oh, well. My conscience pricks me soundly in the back of the head. "You could take them to him." What? I don't have time. Why should I waste gas running them clear to the other side of the city when its his own fault he was lazy getting ready? That won't teach him anything about responsibility. He is nearly an adult out on his own. Don't pamper him. Besides, people will think he's a Mama's boy.
But I know that there is a better way. I flip through my schedule for the day and think about this. I could swing by the apartment during lunch, pick up the oranges, and drive out to the school. It means I either skip lunch or eat in my car while driving (risky at best). But I remember being a senior in high school, struggling to keep up with all the activities and homework and social stuff. I know he is a good kid and that if I do this, it will have a broader impact for a longer time than if I tried to teach him a lesson. Sold. I will do it.
Traffic is not so bad for lunch hour. I put in a CD of Christmas music and eat a hard roll as I wend my way east. He and I connect in the hallway by the office and I hand off the fruit. He is leaving for the game in a half hour. Timing is good. He starts up the stairs to head back to class, stops, turns around, comes back and gives me a hug. "Thanks, Mom." Then he disappears in a swirl of student bodies passing classes.
Bonus. Sweet.
I snort. No way I can do anything about that. Too bad. I am sure the team would have appreciated it, but oh, well. My conscience pricks me soundly in the back of the head. "You could take them to him." What? I don't have time. Why should I waste gas running them clear to the other side of the city when its his own fault he was lazy getting ready? That won't teach him anything about responsibility. He is nearly an adult out on his own. Don't pamper him. Besides, people will think he's a Mama's boy.
But I know that there is a better way. I flip through my schedule for the day and think about this. I could swing by the apartment during lunch, pick up the oranges, and drive out to the school. It means I either skip lunch or eat in my car while driving (risky at best). But I remember being a senior in high school, struggling to keep up with all the activities and homework and social stuff. I know he is a good kid and that if I do this, it will have a broader impact for a longer time than if I tried to teach him a lesson. Sold. I will do it.
Traffic is not so bad for lunch hour. I put in a CD of Christmas music and eat a hard roll as I wend my way east. He and I connect in the hallway by the office and I hand off the fruit. He is leaving for the game in a half hour. Timing is good. He starts up the stairs to head back to class, stops, turns around, comes back and gives me a hug. "Thanks, Mom." Then he disappears in a swirl of student bodies passing classes.
Bonus. Sweet.
Monday, September 26, 2011
Charity
I have not figured out how to deal with bipolar people. I just don't have the answers to how my responsibility relates to their unwillingness to do what needs to be done, like stay on the meds. Somewhere mixed up in all of this is the idea of knowing how to love someone unlovable. There is much talk about being a loving person in the Christian community, but I am not convinced that when the rubber meets the road we are truly doing loving things. I feel all awash and ashamed of my response towards someone out of control and obviously in desperate need. Here is how it makes me feel:
CHARITY
In the early gray of dawn
I head to the kitchen to get ready for work.
Some dark form lies on the floor, obstructing my path.
It is my brother, lying there bleeding.
I step carefully over him so as not to come in contact
And get my pants bloody.
I fill my water bottle, eat my yogurt, and drink my tea,
Careful not to look his way.
After all, I am busy.
I have obligations to meet.
I am a single parent and I work hard – two jobs mind you.
Besides, it is clear from his distress that it will take a professional to fix this mess.
Even if I started to help, I just can’t do it all.
I would never allow myself to get into such a state.
He could have avoided it by doing what he should have.
Not my fault he is hurting.
If I help him, where will it end?
How many other bleeding bodies will be dumped in my kitchen?
No, he will just have to get himself to the doctors
Where he can get the help he needs.
After all, that’s why we have clinics.
Still, I suppose it is the Christian thing to do.
I throw him a couple of bandaids from my purse,
Extras I carry around in case of emergency.
They are a bit worn and wrinkled and I should get fresh ones anyway.
I head off to work feeling good about myself.
Hope he is gone by the time I get home.
Bad enough I will have to mop up the blood.
CHARITY
In the early gray of dawn
I head to the kitchen to get ready for work.
Some dark form lies on the floor, obstructing my path.
It is my brother, lying there bleeding.
I step carefully over him so as not to come in contact
And get my pants bloody.
I fill my water bottle, eat my yogurt, and drink my tea,
Careful not to look his way.
After all, I am busy.
I have obligations to meet.
I am a single parent and I work hard – two jobs mind you.
Besides, it is clear from his distress that it will take a professional to fix this mess.
Even if I started to help, I just can’t do it all.
I would never allow myself to get into such a state.
He could have avoided it by doing what he should have.
Not my fault he is hurting.
If I help him, where will it end?
How many other bleeding bodies will be dumped in my kitchen?
No, he will just have to get himself to the doctors
Where he can get the help he needs.
After all, that’s why we have clinics.
Still, I suppose it is the Christian thing to do.
I throw him a couple of bandaids from my purse,
Extras I carry around in case of emergency.
They are a bit worn and wrinkled and I should get fresh ones anyway.
I head off to work feeling good about myself.
Hope he is gone by the time I get home.
Bad enough I will have to mop up the blood.
Sunday, September 25, 2011
Chiming In
"What would you like to play in chimechoir this year?" I ask The Saints, my chime ringers. After all, if you are going to work on music and learn it, wouldn't it make sense if the song were something you knew and liked? I am constantly selecting music I grew up with, music that I assume to be standards that are well known, only to discover that my ringers have never heard of the piece!
They pore over the repertoire books and make a list of the pieces they would like to ring this year. After the excitement dies down, I take the books and the list home, lie on my bed and compare the two. Several pieces are listed more than once. I check those first to see how difficult they are and whether we are advanced enough to ring them without killing ourselves.
Some of the are doable, some a stretch, and some out of reach at the moment. I cross some titles off the list and circles others. Then I look at pieces that are too easy for us now - isn't that marvelous! We have advanced. I cross them off. I look at pieces that don't fit easily in the liturgical year and cross them off. I am down to a handful of selections that I think can be reasonably done.
I try out the order against the seasons of the church year to see what might make good sense. I find a good fit for the fall lineup. How Great Thou Art at a challenging but not undoable level for November. Two arrangements of Christmas carols for December, and one easier hymn for October. Yes. That will work. And I know the pieces for November and December will go over well because they both received numerous votes.
I like this process. They provide input and I provide oversight. It works well.
They pore over the repertoire books and make a list of the pieces they would like to ring this year. After the excitement dies down, I take the books and the list home, lie on my bed and compare the two. Several pieces are listed more than once. I check those first to see how difficult they are and whether we are advanced enough to ring them without killing ourselves.
Some of the are doable, some a stretch, and some out of reach at the moment. I cross some titles off the list and circles others. Then I look at pieces that are too easy for us now - isn't that marvelous! We have advanced. I cross them off. I look at pieces that don't fit easily in the liturgical year and cross them off. I am down to a handful of selections that I think can be reasonably done.
I try out the order against the seasons of the church year to see what might make good sense. I find a good fit for the fall lineup. How Great Thou Art at a challenging but not undoable level for November. Two arrangements of Christmas carols for December, and one easier hymn for October. Yes. That will work. And I know the pieces for November and December will go over well because they both received numerous votes.
I like this process. They provide input and I provide oversight. It works well.
Saturday, September 24, 2011
Homecomings
This is my fifth Homecoming at Roberts. As usual, we are doing a booksale and have been accepting donations. We use the money to preserve our older materials that are unique but a bit on the fragile side. It takes us the better part of 2 hours to set up the tables and put the books out on the patio.
Of course, people have been sorting inside for the past week. Books sell so much better when they are group by topics. We have, as you might suspect, a lot of religion and theology books and a whole table of education materials. There are some craft type books, other subject books, and some coffee table kinds of books. We even have LPs this year, though we are sadly lacking in children's books which are always the best sellers.
I am lucky to be able to see the parade going by on Westside Drive. During the opening activities we have a few customers, but no crowds. That comes right after the parade while Bobby's Bazaar is happening - tents filled with crafts of all sorts, food being grilled and silent auctions taking place. Now we have lots of book lookers.
One of the tables we have every year is the free table. I refuse to sell the Bible and we put any donated Bibles on the free table. We often get browsers, but don't always find homes for all the Bibles. This year there is much interest in the Bible table, and even though we have more than normal, almost all of them find a new owner. That is encouraging.
Faculty browse and set aside stacks of books. Alumni scoop up textbooks. Current students find presents to give at Christmas. Its so much fun watching how people make their choices, weigh their options, put back what they reconsider, and finally what makes it in their carry off bag.
We did a brisk business - the day was perfect weatherwise to encourage browsing in the warm sun. I had to retreat to the reference desk before the sale ended, but others kept it hopping until the crowds died away. Then we brought the remainder in on carts and left the sale going inside for those last few shoppers.
Great day. Enlightening conversations. Happy exchange of books. I like this event.
Of course, people have been sorting inside for the past week. Books sell so much better when they are group by topics. We have, as you might suspect, a lot of religion and theology books and a whole table of education materials. There are some craft type books, other subject books, and some coffee table kinds of books. We even have LPs this year, though we are sadly lacking in children's books which are always the best sellers.
I am lucky to be able to see the parade going by on Westside Drive. During the opening activities we have a few customers, but no crowds. That comes right after the parade while Bobby's Bazaar is happening - tents filled with crafts of all sorts, food being grilled and silent auctions taking place. Now we have lots of book lookers.
One of the tables we have every year is the free table. I refuse to sell the Bible and we put any donated Bibles on the free table. We often get browsers, but don't always find homes for all the Bibles. This year there is much interest in the Bible table, and even though we have more than normal, almost all of them find a new owner. That is encouraging.
Faculty browse and set aside stacks of books. Alumni scoop up textbooks. Current students find presents to give at Christmas. Its so much fun watching how people make their choices, weigh their options, put back what they reconsider, and finally what makes it in their carry off bag.
We did a brisk business - the day was perfect weatherwise to encourage browsing in the warm sun. I had to retreat to the reference desk before the sale ended, but others kept it hopping until the crowds died away. Then we brought the remainder in on carts and left the sale going inside for those last few shoppers.
Great day. Enlightening conversations. Happy exchange of books. I like this event.
Friday, September 23, 2011
Collecting Hemingway
People have such varying interests. Archives are often blessed by someone's collecting passion. We are the fortunate recipients of a retired professor's interest in Hemingway. He has donated his lifelong collection to our library, and we have been processing the materials. They are now proudly housed in our graduate research room on a tall bookshelf on the north wall.
Today, the donor is here to officially christen the collection and chat with interested parties. I linger in the room, greeting people and answering any non-Hemingway related questions about the library. I hope these materials enjoy much use and inspection. Our archivist has placed about the room a number of journals featuring articles about Hemingway along with a number of posters.
There are already many people on campus for Homecoming Weekend, and groups come and go, including the President, the Provost, the Academic Dean and representatives from Development. What a wonderful turnout. Who knew there were so many Hemingway fans in our little community!
I am sure the Nobel prize winning world traveler would be amused to find this small collection of his works pinioned in our comfy corner of west Rochester. You have to wonder how one can compress such vast perspectives into so small a space. Perhaps this little window on his world is just right for new scholars to digest.
Today, the donor is here to officially christen the collection and chat with interested parties. I linger in the room, greeting people and answering any non-Hemingway related questions about the library. I hope these materials enjoy much use and inspection. Our archivist has placed about the room a number of journals featuring articles about Hemingway along with a number of posters.
There are already many people on campus for Homecoming Weekend, and groups come and go, including the President, the Provost, the Academic Dean and representatives from Development. What a wonderful turnout. Who knew there were so many Hemingway fans in our little community!
I am sure the Nobel prize winning world traveler would be amused to find this small collection of his works pinioned in our comfy corner of west Rochester. You have to wonder how one can compress such vast perspectives into so small a space. Perhaps this little window on his world is just right for new scholars to digest.
Thursday, September 22, 2011
Last Rose of Summer
I step wearily off the front porch, Sugar eagerly wagging her tail, sniffing the air in hopes of finding her friends. She is already around the corner when I spy the rose on the bush by the corner of the house. The bush has not had flowers on it for some weeks now. I thought it dormant, preparing for winter, winding down the season like some tourist spot.
Yet here is a single perfect rose nodding nonchalantly in the morning air as if summer were in full swing and fall far away. Does it not know how quickly the nipping frost will curtail its days of glory? Does it not care that it may never come to full adulthood? It simply goes on gazing at the sun peacefully, enjoying the day, the present moment, the blue skies overhead.
Sugar jerks the leash, anxious to move on. What are you doing? she looks askance at me. I hold firm. I will capture the beauty of this brave flower. I take out my new iPhone and poke the camera icon. Snap! That was easy. Before I have a moment to catch my breath, Sugar pulls me toward the driveway and out into her usual route of investigation. She cares nothing for bravery or beauty. But my soul has been uplifted and my step is ever so slightly lighter.
Yet here is a single perfect rose nodding nonchalantly in the morning air as if summer were in full swing and fall far away. Does it not know how quickly the nipping frost will curtail its days of glory? Does it not care that it may never come to full adulthood? It simply goes on gazing at the sun peacefully, enjoying the day, the present moment, the blue skies overhead.
Sugar jerks the leash, anxious to move on. What are you doing? she looks askance at me. I hold firm. I will capture the beauty of this brave flower. I take out my new iPhone and poke the camera icon. Snap! That was easy. Before I have a moment to catch my breath, Sugar pulls me toward the driveway and out into her usual route of investigation. She cares nothing for bravery or beauty. But my soul has been uplifted and my step is ever so slightly lighter.
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Libraryopoly
We gather behind the Circ Desk in excited anticipation. We are assigned our rooms, given our property cards, and head off to await the coming hordes. I am in the Instruction Lab, and my property card is Roberts Hall. I unlock the door, turn on the lights, and make sure the room is in tiptop shape. Then I wait.
Normally, we have had lines of students waiting to play our game, but since we are still open, there is no cue champing impatiently at the bit while the doors are still locked. I see students at the sign up table filling out their gameboard, so I know there are players, but over the course of the next two hours, I barely meet anyone. I would say if I encountered a dozen students, that would be an exaggeration.
What a disappointment. I see my colleagues in their assigned places, pacing and wondering where everyone is. At the stroke of the ending time, we reconvene at the Circ Desk. The evening has been a smashing disaster. We gather info about what went wrong. Too late in the semester, not after midnight, no food, other events happening on campus, assignments due. All true. All true. A learning curve.
Will we try Monopoly again next year after addressing these issues? Perhaps. Will we go back to Clue? I doubt it. Will we move on to another game that people know (I am surprised that many students have never heard of Monopoly!). Could be. Whatever the deal, I am tired and heading home. Next year we hope to be fully staffed and make a better go of Open House. At least we didn't sink as low as what was happening before we hit on the game idea!
Normally, we have had lines of students waiting to play our game, but since we are still open, there is no cue champing impatiently at the bit while the doors are still locked. I see students at the sign up table filling out their gameboard, so I know there are players, but over the course of the next two hours, I barely meet anyone. I would say if I encountered a dozen students, that would be an exaggeration.
What a disappointment. I see my colleagues in their assigned places, pacing and wondering where everyone is. At the stroke of the ending time, we reconvene at the Circ Desk. The evening has been a smashing disaster. We gather info about what went wrong. Too late in the semester, not after midnight, no food, other events happening on campus, assignments due. All true. All true. A learning curve.
Will we try Monopoly again next year after addressing these issues? Perhaps. Will we go back to Clue? I doubt it. Will we move on to another game that people know (I am surprised that many students have never heard of Monopoly!). Could be. Whatever the deal, I am tired and heading home. Next year we hope to be fully staffed and make a better go of Open House. At least we didn't sink as low as what was happening before we hit on the game idea!
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Planning the Game
Last year we played Clue in the library at midnight for our Open House event. It was a good success. This year we decide to change up the game and try something akin to Monopoly. But we are short handed (down 3 people!), and stretched pretty thin already. It is suggested that we play the game at 10 pm rather than at midnight after the library closes. I am skeptical, but I understand.
Our goal is to invite new students through the doors of the library so they won't be intimidated about encountering yet another new building where they might feel lost and unsure of the ropes. If they come and have a good time exploring the space, they will be more comfortable coming here when they need to do research.
We pull together our property cards, our go to jail cards, our game pieces (we stick to an office equipment theme using staplers and scotch tape dispensers as game pieces). We advertise, assign parts to our staff and student volunteers, and make little paper houses filled with chocolate kisses for the participants. We find prizes for the grand drawing, and double check everything. We are ready. Bring on the new students!
Our goal is to invite new students through the doors of the library so they won't be intimidated about encountering yet another new building where they might feel lost and unsure of the ropes. If they come and have a good time exploring the space, they will be more comfortable coming here when they need to do research.
We pull together our property cards, our go to jail cards, our game pieces (we stick to an office equipment theme using staplers and scotch tape dispensers as game pieces). We advertise, assign parts to our staff and student volunteers, and make little paper houses filled with chocolate kisses for the participants. We find prizes for the grand drawing, and double check everything. We are ready. Bring on the new students!
Monday, September 19, 2011
No Apple Pie
Today is our monthly social event in the library. Our director has planned a pie delight and sends out the email invites. Somehow, because he is offering cider, I get the notion in my head that there is apple pie, and of course, I immediately am concerned whether there is so much cinnamon that I will have to pass.
After we gather, he takes requests for kind of pie and I ask about the cinnamon. Turns out that there is no apple pie. Only blueberry, raspberry (good Lord, no! Seeds never works well) and pecan (nuts don't work either). Once I get past the cinnamon taboo, I take the blueberry and decline the cider. Really, its getting so that I can barely partake of foodstuffs at events such as these. I don't want to appear snobby, but it is self defense.
Although I can physically put such foods in my mouth and enjoy them totally, I know I will pay a hefty price once they begin to wreak havoc with my intestinal track. So far I have stumped a number of nutritionists with my food reactions. We are so fiber conscious, so pushing raw fruit and veggies, that we cannot think outside of that box.
My one consolation is that I take vitamins. So far, B, C, D, and E on a regular basis. I will keep asking around. Maybe there is someone out there who has wrestled with this problem and has a better solution that what I have been able to cobble together.
I do have to smile though. Lots of people recommend drinking healthy fruits and vegetables in their juice form. I guess they don't realize that fiber is fiber no matter how it looks to the eye. The fiber in carrot juice is just as indigestible for me as the fiber in a raw carrot!
But at least for today, no worries about cinnamon in the apple pie!
After we gather, he takes requests for kind of pie and I ask about the cinnamon. Turns out that there is no apple pie. Only blueberry, raspberry (good Lord, no! Seeds never works well) and pecan (nuts don't work either). Once I get past the cinnamon taboo, I take the blueberry and decline the cider. Really, its getting so that I can barely partake of foodstuffs at events such as these. I don't want to appear snobby, but it is self defense.
Although I can physically put such foods in my mouth and enjoy them totally, I know I will pay a hefty price once they begin to wreak havoc with my intestinal track. So far I have stumped a number of nutritionists with my food reactions. We are so fiber conscious, so pushing raw fruit and veggies, that we cannot think outside of that box.
My one consolation is that I take vitamins. So far, B, C, D, and E on a regular basis. I will keep asking around. Maybe there is someone out there who has wrestled with this problem and has a better solution that what I have been able to cobble together.
I do have to smile though. Lots of people recommend drinking healthy fruits and vegetables in their juice form. I guess they don't realize that fiber is fiber no matter how it looks to the eye. The fiber in carrot juice is just as indigestible for me as the fiber in a raw carrot!
But at least for today, no worries about cinnamon in the apple pie!
Sunday, September 18, 2011
Present for the Present Opening
Last night the bride's Mom invited me to their house for lunch. The couple is planning to open their gifts before leaving on their honeymoon to the Adirondacks (their Pennsylvania trip got flooded out). Drew and I head there after church and a nap, where we are served a lovely spaghetti dinner. Then the fun begins.
We sit on the deck, bathed in sun and warmth. The trees rustle ever so slightly when the light breeze floats by us. The occasional butterfly kisses nearby flowers, and the water in the pool dances gently under its fall covering. Bees buzz about annoying children and adults alike. Lots of relatives occupy lawn chairs and deck chairs, some under table umbrellas, others under tree shade. I sit in the full sun even though I know chemo skin will burn. I want to be able to see what all they unwrap.
Such lovely gifts they receive. Lots of kitchen things - bright dinnerware in red, yellow, blue, green and white, along with numerous small appliances. My sister has given them gifts cards to places in the Adirondacks where they will be honeymooning - restaurants and attractions. There is a lovely crystal vase and of all things, a flat screen TV! Then they open the gift cards. Happily, friends are generous. They will be able to finish paying expenses for their wedding and have enough left to put towards an apartment deposit.
I enjoy being part of the family conversations, hearing one grandma chat about past weddings and an uncle talk about escapades of hunting and other good times. I chat with the parents about the new waterline that will bring city water to their house, how the new garage is working, what is happening with the newly purchased land out behind their yard. No hurries.
At last I realize that my energy is zapped and I need to go home. A few others depart as well. I know the blessed couple will show up at my place before they leave town to gather their luggage, so I don't feel bad about not staying until they leave. A lovely afternoon indeed.
Saturday, September 17, 2011
The Big Day
I didn't know I would have company at my house, but I do. One of the groom's men slept with Kiel out in a tent in the side yard. I get a call from son with screaming child, and have to go lend a hand there. Please don't make me late! I have been assigned a time to arrive at the church, just to provide the bride with peace of mind that everyone is where they are supposed to be. After taking care of the needs of grandchildren, I head home to shower. I will have just enough time.
But no. The shower is occupied. Repeatedly. We have to squeeze four separate showers into the allotted time. I try not to get anxious. After all, one of them is the groom and they won't start without him. The groom's man who slept over is having an issue with his shoes. They smell like cat urine. He calls the tux rental place. They tell him to come in and exchange them. Suddenly I have to get Drew to the church on time, and he is supposed to be there before I am. I still haven't showered (is there hot water left?), but Drew is beside himself.
Not to worry. You have plenty of time. The other groom's man won't be there on time either. Let the groom go so he at least will be able to have time to calm down and regain his composure. I shoo them out the door and rush into the shower. Quick, quick, quick. Deep breath. Exhale. I am OK. Clean, appropriately dressed, ready.
Drew wants to drive and his impatience and desire to want to meet his assigned arrival time makes him peal out of the driveway on two wheels. Whoa! Slow down. Everything will be fine. The wedding is not for a whole hour and a half. We are only ten minutes away. Relax!! Drew gets dropped at the door and I park. I meet up with screaming grandson and parents, and we hang together for awhile. I am privileged to be asked to visit the bride in her chambers to be part of the preparations. What joy and happiness floats among the organza and flowers.
Then I go back downstairs to wait for my time to be seated. Since my son is no where to be found, the bride's brother seats me and I can finally take a deep breath. Phew! I look at the mother of the bride, and we two ascend the stairs to the unity candle and together light it from our individual candles. We smile, comrades in the affair, happy to see our children happy.
I descend the stairs, managing not to trip, and sit. Then the chords resound and we stand and turn to see the bride coming down the aisle on her father's arm. She is breath taking. Beautiful. The essence of charm and grace. Classic. The wedding unfolds like something out of a story book. Everything is perfect.
The pastors share wonderful stories about the bride and groom growing up, about their personalities, about their faith and how they believe this match to be one that will withstand the test of time. Somehow, I believe too. Somehow I see my son in a new way, more grown up, ready to take on this new role. Someone who will be what is needed for his sweetheart.
I come close to crying with pride and relief and joy and wonder. They show their commitment to community with sand art done with their best man and maid of honor. They take communion together for the first time as man and wife. And then they are kissing. What a tender and gentle kiss. You can almost feel their love in a tangible way. If the candles had not already been lighted, they would have combusted spontaneously as the couple walked arm in arm down the aisle, faces beaming. Wow.
I had no idea that weddings were so different when you are the mother of the groom! They are unique, this new family. They chose to have their friends pop bubble wrap as they drove off in lieu of throwing rice or blowing bubbles. What an explosive sendoff!
I admit I went home and rested after the wedding and before the reception. Though I was still tired, I thoroughly enjoyed the reception. I got to chat with my brother and his wife, saw relatives I have not seen in awhile, drank some soda, was able to eat many of the foods served, and had cake. I think the best moment was the dance with Kiel. He and I chatted and it felt like a whole new world. I enjoyed the whole dance. Afterwards, since I had had so much fun dancing with Kiel, I made Drew dance with me too.
It was all wonderful wonderful wonderful. I practically floated home and drifted off to sleep happy that the day had been everything promised and then some. Wouldn't it be something if we could have these kinds of days more often! Joyous celebrations are worth their weight in gold. What an amazing day.
But no. The shower is occupied. Repeatedly. We have to squeeze four separate showers into the allotted time. I try not to get anxious. After all, one of them is the groom and they won't start without him. The groom's man who slept over is having an issue with his shoes. They smell like cat urine. He calls the tux rental place. They tell him to come in and exchange them. Suddenly I have to get Drew to the church on time, and he is supposed to be there before I am. I still haven't showered (is there hot water left?), but Drew is beside himself.
Not to worry. You have plenty of time. The other groom's man won't be there on time either. Let the groom go so he at least will be able to have time to calm down and regain his composure. I shoo them out the door and rush into the shower. Quick, quick, quick. Deep breath. Exhale. I am OK. Clean, appropriately dressed, ready.
Drew wants to drive and his impatience and desire to want to meet his assigned arrival time makes him peal out of the driveway on two wheels. Whoa! Slow down. Everything will be fine. The wedding is not for a whole hour and a half. We are only ten minutes away. Relax!! Drew gets dropped at the door and I park. I meet up with screaming grandson and parents, and we hang together for awhile. I am privileged to be asked to visit the bride in her chambers to be part of the preparations. What joy and happiness floats among the organza and flowers.
Then I go back downstairs to wait for my time to be seated. Since my son is no where to be found, the bride's brother seats me and I can finally take a deep breath. Phew! I look at the mother of the bride, and we two ascend the stairs to the unity candle and together light it from our individual candles. We smile, comrades in the affair, happy to see our children happy.
I descend the stairs, managing not to trip, and sit. Then the chords resound and we stand and turn to see the bride coming down the aisle on her father's arm. She is breath taking. Beautiful. The essence of charm and grace. Classic. The wedding unfolds like something out of a story book. Everything is perfect.
The pastors share wonderful stories about the bride and groom growing up, about their personalities, about their faith and how they believe this match to be one that will withstand the test of time. Somehow, I believe too. Somehow I see my son in a new way, more grown up, ready to take on this new role. Someone who will be what is needed for his sweetheart.
I come close to crying with pride and relief and joy and wonder. They show their commitment to community with sand art done with their best man and maid of honor. They take communion together for the first time as man and wife. And then they are kissing. What a tender and gentle kiss. You can almost feel their love in a tangible way. If the candles had not already been lighted, they would have combusted spontaneously as the couple walked arm in arm down the aisle, faces beaming. Wow.
I had no idea that weddings were so different when you are the mother of the groom! They are unique, this new family. They chose to have their friends pop bubble wrap as they drove off in lieu of throwing rice or blowing bubbles. What an explosive sendoff!
I admit I went home and rested after the wedding and before the reception. Though I was still tired, I thoroughly enjoyed the reception. I got to chat with my brother and his wife, saw relatives I have not seen in awhile, drank some soda, was able to eat many of the foods served, and had cake. I think the best moment was the dance with Kiel. He and I chatted and it felt like a whole new world. I enjoyed the whole dance. Afterwards, since I had had so much fun dancing with Kiel, I made Drew dance with me too.
It was all wonderful wonderful wonderful. I practically floated home and drifted off to sleep happy that the day had been everything promised and then some. Wouldn't it be something if we could have these kinds of days more often! Joyous celebrations are worth their weight in gold. What an amazing day.
Friday, September 16, 2011
Rehearsal Dinner
Yikes! It is the responsibility of the groom's family to provide the rehearsal dinner for the wedding party. I gulp when the bride tells me there will be 60 people attending - out of town relatives and guests who will expect to be fed. That pretty much eliminates any thought of a restaurant. I decide to do the same meal I did for the rehearsal dinner for my degree recital: lasagna, Italian rolls, tossed salad, brownies and drinks.
I figure I can do that within my limited budget while still managing to make sure everyone gets enough to eat and feels full. I respectfully reserved the fellowship hall at the church where I work and ask my sister if she can help me. She is none too thrilled at the idea, but agrees to lend a hand. After all, I have to be AT the rehearsal (it would never do for the mother of the groom to be clueless).
I start the day doing the shopping. I have the list and the plan. I had almost forgotten that I would need to decorate the tables, so I go first to Party City for appropriate table stuff. I call the bride to get her approval of color combinations. Then I head to Wegmans for the frozen lasagna and mac and cheese trays, the salad, drinks, butter etc. Cookie and dessert trays from Sam's club, rolls from Martesciello's bakery (people loved them at the rehearsal dinner). I think I am set.
I head to the church and cart everything to the fellowship hall. I rearrange the tables, put the purple tablecloths on them, add in apples for decor along with tealight candles. Then I set up the buffet and get the plasticware and napkins set. Where has this day gone??? It is already nearly time to go to the rehearsal.
I am so blessed that my two friends - seeing my plight - offer to help. I leave the dinner in their capable hands and head to the rehearsal, not worried about feeding everyone afterwards. I have done all that I could and hopefully that will be enough.
The rehearsal is in shambles. People are running around fussing. One of my sons is there with his children, and they are crying. Questions are being shouted at random to no one in particular. What a mess. I decide to just sit until order comes about. I am asked questions to which I consistently reply "I don't know."
At last, the pastor arrives and attempts to bring order from this chaos. It will be midnight by the time we get out of here. I just sit. Even with the wedding planner, it takes almost a half hour to get everyone settled down and in the right place. We begin with much needed prayer. At least it is quiet!
The pastors (yes, there will be 2) walk us through the service, explaining what to expect, trying out the awkward parts, moving us from one place to another. Despite the constant starting and stopping and redoing, we make slow progress. We do manage to get finished by 6:30. I have a text from my sister asking when we will get there as she had to take some of the lasagna out of the oven lest it burn. Sigh. We will get there when we get there. One of the groom's men locked himself out of his car, the bride has to change, the groom doesn't want to hurry off and desert people. Wow.
Best thing I can do is drive the block or two to the rehearsal dinner site and just be there. People will find me if they need me. My son with the screaming (yes, it escalated) ring bearer throws in the towel and heads back to his hotel room. Thank goodness! We will send him dinner. Slowly people trickle in.
And then, the critical mass is reached. I ask the pastor to bless the food, and the line cues up. My friends will not let me help in the kitchen. They shoo me into the hall to talk with people. I sit and chat, eventually filling a plate and eating while my wonderful amazing precious friends keep the bowls filled and the hot food coming.
By the time I say farewell to the last people, they have cleared away most of the leftovers and wiped the empty tables. What have I done to deserve such wonderful friends! I owe them big time for sure. Best of all, I think the bride and her family were pleased with the whole evening. Perhaps it was a good thing to be close by with lots of space in a non chaotic environment.
I know people felt free to help themselves to as much food as they wanted, and to stay and chat for as long as they needed. The event was hospitable and filled with fellowship, as I had hoped. I am glad it went well, and I know I owe much of that to the amazing kitchen crew. Now I just have to figure out where everyone is going! The giggling bridesmaids head one direction, the bride and maid of honor another. The groom and his friends head in another direction. The guests go home. The parents of the bride head out to take care of a few last minute details.
As for me, I am just going home and to bed. Tomorrow will be a long and amazing day, I am sure.
I figure I can do that within my limited budget while still managing to make sure everyone gets enough to eat and feels full. I respectfully reserved the fellowship hall at the church where I work and ask my sister if she can help me. She is none too thrilled at the idea, but agrees to lend a hand. After all, I have to be AT the rehearsal (it would never do for the mother of the groom to be clueless).
I start the day doing the shopping. I have the list and the plan. I had almost forgotten that I would need to decorate the tables, so I go first to Party City for appropriate table stuff. I call the bride to get her approval of color combinations. Then I head to Wegmans for the frozen lasagna and mac and cheese trays, the salad, drinks, butter etc. Cookie and dessert trays from Sam's club, rolls from Martesciello's bakery (people loved them at the rehearsal dinner). I think I am set.
I head to the church and cart everything to the fellowship hall. I rearrange the tables, put the purple tablecloths on them, add in apples for decor along with tealight candles. Then I set up the buffet and get the plasticware and napkins set. Where has this day gone??? It is already nearly time to go to the rehearsal.
I am so blessed that my two friends - seeing my plight - offer to help. I leave the dinner in their capable hands and head to the rehearsal, not worried about feeding everyone afterwards. I have done all that I could and hopefully that will be enough.
The rehearsal is in shambles. People are running around fussing. One of my sons is there with his children, and they are crying. Questions are being shouted at random to no one in particular. What a mess. I decide to just sit until order comes about. I am asked questions to which I consistently reply "I don't know."
At last, the pastor arrives and attempts to bring order from this chaos. It will be midnight by the time we get out of here. I just sit. Even with the wedding planner, it takes almost a half hour to get everyone settled down and in the right place. We begin with much needed prayer. At least it is quiet!
The pastors (yes, there will be 2) walk us through the service, explaining what to expect, trying out the awkward parts, moving us from one place to another. Despite the constant starting and stopping and redoing, we make slow progress. We do manage to get finished by 6:30. I have a text from my sister asking when we will get there as she had to take some of the lasagna out of the oven lest it burn. Sigh. We will get there when we get there. One of the groom's men locked himself out of his car, the bride has to change, the groom doesn't want to hurry off and desert people. Wow.
Best thing I can do is drive the block or two to the rehearsal dinner site and just be there. People will find me if they need me. My son with the screaming (yes, it escalated) ring bearer throws in the towel and heads back to his hotel room. Thank goodness! We will send him dinner. Slowly people trickle in.
And then, the critical mass is reached. I ask the pastor to bless the food, and the line cues up. My friends will not let me help in the kitchen. They shoo me into the hall to talk with people. I sit and chat, eventually filling a plate and eating while my wonderful amazing precious friends keep the bowls filled and the hot food coming.
By the time I say farewell to the last people, they have cleared away most of the leftovers and wiped the empty tables. What have I done to deserve such wonderful friends! I owe them big time for sure. Best of all, I think the bride and her family were pleased with the whole evening. Perhaps it was a good thing to be close by with lots of space in a non chaotic environment.
I know people felt free to help themselves to as much food as they wanted, and to stay and chat for as long as they needed. The event was hospitable and filled with fellowship, as I had hoped. I am glad it went well, and I know I owe much of that to the amazing kitchen crew. Now I just have to figure out where everyone is going! The giggling bridesmaids head one direction, the bride and maid of honor another. The groom and his friends head in another direction. The guests go home. The parents of the bride head out to take care of a few last minute details.
As for me, I am just going home and to bed. Tomorrow will be a long and amazing day, I am sure.
Thursday, September 15, 2011
St Olaf Chapels
I have discovered that St Olaf College archives their chapels and Sunday services. I had such a marvelous and soul filling time at their conference 2 summers ago, that I logged on and watched their opening convocation and welcoming service. How gracious and nurturing they are of their students and their families! Their comments and suggestions and actions make the separation less difficult for all involved.
While I am not Lutheran, I have a great deal of respect for how they do things. I think I will continue to check in from time to time. Its rather like carving out a few moments of gentle peace from a hectic schedule. If you are interested, you can find their archive of videos here:
http://www.stolaf.edu/multimedia/
Enjoy!
While I am not Lutheran, I have a great deal of respect for how they do things. I think I will continue to check in from time to time. Its rather like carving out a few moments of gentle peace from a hectic schedule. If you are interested, you can find their archive of videos here:
http://www.stolaf.edu/multimedia/
Enjoy!
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Happy Birthday Mom
Hi, Mom;
Wish I could be there to hug you and tell you how much I love and appreciate you. I pray for you every day that you will find the strength to go on without Dad, that your heart will be at peace and your life renewed within you.
As you celebrate this birthday, I wish you a day filled with beautiful memories of the life you have lived, your fun at college, your December wedding, both your honeymoons, all the fun things we have done as a family, all the moments of romance when Dad did something special for you, all the joyous occasions like the birth of another child or grandchild or great grandchild, moving into a better house, building your own place, finding a treasure in an unexpected venue, vacationing in so many grand spaces.
I wish you a day filled with enjoyable things today - a glimpse of a beautiful bird at the window feeder, a ton of happy cards, a soft pillow, a warm sun on your face, a joke that makes you laugh, a soft sweater in just the perfect color.
I wish you a day filled with hope for what tomorrow might bring, for making new memories, for finally getting to do something you always wished you could do, for discovering an interesting new book, for going someplace special.
Most of all, I wish you could experience the tangible presence of God, his loving care, his arms about you, his joy over being with his favorite daughter, his peace and strength. I love you, Mom.
Wish I could be there to hug you and tell you how much I love and appreciate you. I pray for you every day that you will find the strength to go on without Dad, that your heart will be at peace and your life renewed within you.
As you celebrate this birthday, I wish you a day filled with beautiful memories of the life you have lived, your fun at college, your December wedding, both your honeymoons, all the fun things we have done as a family, all the moments of romance when Dad did something special for you, all the joyous occasions like the birth of another child or grandchild or great grandchild, moving into a better house, building your own place, finding a treasure in an unexpected venue, vacationing in so many grand spaces.
I wish you a day filled with enjoyable things today - a glimpse of a beautiful bird at the window feeder, a ton of happy cards, a soft pillow, a warm sun on your face, a joke that makes you laugh, a soft sweater in just the perfect color.
I wish you a day filled with hope for what tomorrow might bring, for making new memories, for finally getting to do something you always wished you could do, for discovering an interesting new book, for going someplace special.
Most of all, I wish you could experience the tangible presence of God, his loving care, his arms about you, his joy over being with his favorite daughter, his peace and strength. I love you, Mom.
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Wedding Nails
I am caught on the horns of a dilemma. If I get my nails done too early, they will not last for the wedding. But my time is committed and I can't think how to carve out a chunk for sitting in a nail salon. At last, reluctantly, I head to the mall 4 whole days before the wedding to take care of this important piece. I am so not a girly-girl filled with pouf-pouf and fluffy frills. Sigh. On those rare occasions when I need to look polished, it takes herculean effort to whip my sagging self into shape.
I walk into an empty salon. Good. No one to give me puzzled looks when I unveil my unpolished digits. I can relax and just let the girls work their magic. I settle into the chair, plop my feet into a tub of warm swirling water, and am quiet while the petite salon woman tends to my needs. She has a very thick Asian accent and I can barely make out what she is asking me.
I get the general drift that she thinks I ought to frequent the salon more often and not get into such a bad state. I smile and nod, but I cannot justify spending so much money on a regular basis for what I consider unessentials. She keeps reiterating something about a new type of polish and without really understanding what she is going on about, I agree to try it. She smiles broadly.
Just then, oh joy, a wedding party enters. The excited bride, her mother, maid of honor, and the groom's mother all plop down in chairs, chattering gaily about wedding plans, colors, flowers, last minute decorations, tiaras, colors of nail polish matching dresses - the laughter and banter cheers my heart. The sole woman working has called in her accomplices who have been out wandering the mall and suddenly they explode on the scene, grabbing tools and stools and setting to work with sincerity.
I am at the painting stage now. What my helper paints on my fingers looks clear until you get it under the drying light, then it looks - egad - purple. But the color swatch she showed me was a peachy color, so I wait patiently while the timer goes off and multiple coats are applied. Ding! I am done. No waiting to dry. Put your shoes on and leave.
Turns out this is a new acrylic nail p0lish, impervious to destruction. I am assured I can scrub pans and it will still look stellar. The girls in the wedding party are getting the same thing, and they tell me it is true. Imagine that! Nail polish that will look good for nearly a month! Not bad. Not bad at all. I am so behind the times. And delighted that this will last until after the wedding.
I walk into an empty salon. Good. No one to give me puzzled looks when I unveil my unpolished digits. I can relax and just let the girls work their magic. I settle into the chair, plop my feet into a tub of warm swirling water, and am quiet while the petite salon woman tends to my needs. She has a very thick Asian accent and I can barely make out what she is asking me.
I get the general drift that she thinks I ought to frequent the salon more often and not get into such a bad state. I smile and nod, but I cannot justify spending so much money on a regular basis for what I consider unessentials. She keeps reiterating something about a new type of polish and without really understanding what she is going on about, I agree to try it. She smiles broadly.
Just then, oh joy, a wedding party enters. The excited bride, her mother, maid of honor, and the groom's mother all plop down in chairs, chattering gaily about wedding plans, colors, flowers, last minute decorations, tiaras, colors of nail polish matching dresses - the laughter and banter cheers my heart. The sole woman working has called in her accomplices who have been out wandering the mall and suddenly they explode on the scene, grabbing tools and stools and setting to work with sincerity.
I am at the painting stage now. What my helper paints on my fingers looks clear until you get it under the drying light, then it looks - egad - purple. But the color swatch she showed me was a peachy color, so I wait patiently while the timer goes off and multiple coats are applied. Ding! I am done. No waiting to dry. Put your shoes on and leave.
Turns out this is a new acrylic nail p0lish, impervious to destruction. I am assured I can scrub pans and it will still look stellar. The girls in the wedding party are getting the same thing, and they tell me it is true. Imagine that! Nail polish that will look good for nearly a month! Not bad. Not bad at all. I am so behind the times. And delighted that this will last until after the wedding.
Monday, September 12, 2011
Corn Stalk Elimination
Every fall, the person managing the corn fields on Buffalo Road chops down the corn stalks, leaving 4 to 6 inches of standing stubble. Over the course of the winter, many fowl take shelter there and find sustenance. I often see them huddled close to the ground surrounded by the pointed spears of beheaded corn stalks. Snow builds up around them and affords protection from the icy winds that blow through the area, drifting snow across the road despite the snow fences.
Today as I drove past the fields, I was shocked to discover that they not only harvested the stalks, they ripped them up roots and all! The barren ground is completely devoid of stubble. Not a spear in sight. I gasp, realizing what this will mean in the winter when the geese and Guinea hens seek shelter from the storms and want to search out bugs and juicy grist for the feeding. They will have to go elsewhere.
I am sad to know there will be no fowl snuggling in the vast expanse of smooth whiteness that will hug Buffalo Road this winter. I am sure they will find another spot to hunker down when the winds blow fierce and the snow flies in their faces. Here's hoping we all find safe space against the unpredictable elements. As for me, I am looking at one of those mini fake fireplaces for my bedroom!
Today as I drove past the fields, I was shocked to discover that they not only harvested the stalks, they ripped them up roots and all! The barren ground is completely devoid of stubble. Not a spear in sight. I gasp, realizing what this will mean in the winter when the geese and Guinea hens seek shelter from the storms and want to search out bugs and juicy grist for the feeding. They will have to go elsewhere.
I am sad to know there will be no fowl snuggling in the vast expanse of smooth whiteness that will hug Buffalo Road this winter. I am sure they will find another spot to hunker down when the winds blow fierce and the snow flies in their faces. Here's hoping we all find safe space against the unpredictable elements. As for me, I am looking at one of those mini fake fireplaces for my bedroom!
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Eleven Eleven
There is real buzz in the air on this 10th anniversary of 9 11. I have heard it on the news, in conversations, at services, this sense that we have dealt with the initial shock, but that there is much more to be done - lest we get complacent.
In church, Pastor showed a video of remembrances. It was very stirring. I doubt there was a dry eye in the house. At 11:11 in the morning on September 11, 2011, we were all thinking about that day, remembering where we were, how we heard, how our lives were touched, irrevocably altered. I can't help but think of other tragedies like Pearl Harbor and Hiroshima and the concentration camp devastations. I wonder how God takes us in stride for our pettiness and unloving thoughts and deeds.
I can't say as if I came away from the day thinking of ways to revolutionize the world. Mostly my thoughts revolve around how I can be more loving, more understanding, less petty and selfish. I will check in again on 11/11/11 at 11:11 and see if I have made any progress. Perhaps that is a strategy that might work. Everytime I encounter something with 11 in it, I should take an internal inventory and see what ugliness I need to address within myself. Cast it out by God's grace, then determine with God's help to be more loving in measurable ways.
OK - a yardstick I can use to measure by. 11.
In church, Pastor showed a video of remembrances. It was very stirring. I doubt there was a dry eye in the house. At 11:11 in the morning on September 11, 2011, we were all thinking about that day, remembering where we were, how we heard, how our lives were touched, irrevocably altered. I can't help but think of other tragedies like Pearl Harbor and Hiroshima and the concentration camp devastations. I wonder how God takes us in stride for our pettiness and unloving thoughts and deeds.
I can't say as if I came away from the day thinking of ways to revolutionize the world. Mostly my thoughts revolve around how I can be more loving, more understanding, less petty and selfish. I will check in again on 11/11/11 at 11:11 and see if I have made any progress. Perhaps that is a strategy that might work. Everytime I encounter something with 11 in it, I should take an internal inventory and see what ugliness I need to address within myself. Cast it out by God's grace, then determine with God's help to be more loving in measurable ways.
OK - a yardstick I can use to measure by. 11.
Saturday, September 10, 2011
Hair Again
My second visit to the swanky east side salon with my sister. This time, the perfecting of the style so that I will look my best for the wedding (can you believe it is only one week away?). I am less intimidated walking through the doors. The receptionist is still none too welcoming, but I have a deeper motivation to make this work. I want to look good for Kiel.
Once again, the haircutter clucks over my sorry cut (even though she was the last one to cut my mop). My hair grows like my Father's hair. Not much on top, but the fringe around the back is long and thick. Sigh. I would have rather inherited my Mother's beautiful white hair. Ah, well.
She snips and scissors and razors until everything is in the right proportion and lays nicely with the contours of my face, just as it should be. I make bold to talk to the color artist to tell her that it was too dark for my taste, and that I would like some highlights please. "Of course," she purrs. "Last time we just wanted to get the base color right. I will go only a half shade lighter. You need the darkness to bring out the youthfulness of your skin. Your face is so young looking, so smooth and even."
I look in the mirror, but I don't see what she sees. True, I don't have a lot of wrinkles or crows feet, but my skin is blotchy and sports age spots here and there. Well, I can't change that. She goes to work mixing and daubing and then paints highlights overtop of the darker color. I sit and percolate while my sister goes to get her cut. I think she looks young. And she is only 2 years younger than I am. I feel ancient.
Though I am not yet 60, my body has been through so much I move like I am 90. But I am determined that for the wedding I will be young again, filled with joy and youth and love. This will be such a great day. Who could resist such happiness?
The timer rings and I am cooked. With a luxurious scalp massage and rinse treatment, I am on my way to looking like a mother of the groom ought to look. I glance around. There have been 2 bridal parties in the salon today. Apparently September is the new June when it comes to weddings. There is excitement and raw angst in both parties. Girls wanting to be perfect for their special day. They drink champagne while they are coiffed, their abundant hair piled in swirls and buns and chignons, their fingernails buffed and polished, their faces scrubbed and smoothed and exfoliated until they glow.
It affects everyone in the salon. What a pleasure to celebrate these joyous occasions. There are too few times of specialty and joy these days. I am glad people really get into it. I remember when my own hair was long and could be put up. I want to tell them to enjoy it while they can, but of course, they may not end up with my balding thinning mess.
"So what are you ladies going to do today with your fabulous hairdos?" our hostess asks us. My sister and I look at each other, dumbfounded. I am going home and clean the bathroom. She needs to shop, then mow the lawn. But the mundane does not take the zip out of our happiness. Our day is coming, and we will be ready. Thank the Lord.
Once again, the haircutter clucks over my sorry cut (even though she was the last one to cut my mop). My hair grows like my Father's hair. Not much on top, but the fringe around the back is long and thick. Sigh. I would have rather inherited my Mother's beautiful white hair. Ah, well.
She snips and scissors and razors until everything is in the right proportion and lays nicely with the contours of my face, just as it should be. I make bold to talk to the color artist to tell her that it was too dark for my taste, and that I would like some highlights please. "Of course," she purrs. "Last time we just wanted to get the base color right. I will go only a half shade lighter. You need the darkness to bring out the youthfulness of your skin. Your face is so young looking, so smooth and even."
I look in the mirror, but I don't see what she sees. True, I don't have a lot of wrinkles or crows feet, but my skin is blotchy and sports age spots here and there. Well, I can't change that. She goes to work mixing and daubing and then paints highlights overtop of the darker color. I sit and percolate while my sister goes to get her cut. I think she looks young. And she is only 2 years younger than I am. I feel ancient.
Though I am not yet 60, my body has been through so much I move like I am 90. But I am determined that for the wedding I will be young again, filled with joy and youth and love. This will be such a great day. Who could resist such happiness?
The timer rings and I am cooked. With a luxurious scalp massage and rinse treatment, I am on my way to looking like a mother of the groom ought to look. I glance around. There have been 2 bridal parties in the salon today. Apparently September is the new June when it comes to weddings. There is excitement and raw angst in both parties. Girls wanting to be perfect for their special day. They drink champagne while they are coiffed, their abundant hair piled in swirls and buns and chignons, their fingernails buffed and polished, their faces scrubbed and smoothed and exfoliated until they glow.
It affects everyone in the salon. What a pleasure to celebrate these joyous occasions. There are too few times of specialty and joy these days. I am glad people really get into it. I remember when my own hair was long and could be put up. I want to tell them to enjoy it while they can, but of course, they may not end up with my balding thinning mess.
"So what are you ladies going to do today with your fabulous hairdos?" our hostess asks us. My sister and I look at each other, dumbfounded. I am going home and clean the bathroom. She needs to shop, then mow the lawn. But the mundane does not take the zip out of our happiness. Our day is coming, and we will be ready. Thank the Lord.
Friday, September 9, 2011
Faculty Senate
Our first Senate meeting of the year. I am honored to be included in such august company. These are colleagues I respect, wise people who always put forth ideas for me to explore and consider, expand my worldview, challenge my thinking.
Now I am allowed to make a contribution too, allowed to weigh in on topics of concern as representing the library in conversations. It is all a bit heady. I am afraid I will put my foot in my mouth, or say something so kindergarten that people will pass me off as too new. Now is the time to listen, absorb, comment only when I truly have something to say of value that has not been mentioned by others.
I do find that my perspective as a librarian, because we are one of the few places on campus where everyone intersects, tends to be broader, to see issues cropping up early on. We have done much work in addressing customer service protocols and it turns out I can offer comments of substance. Whew! That's a relief. Not just my ideas or opinions, but valid data for consideration.
I have never been much on politics, but I am learning. Mostly I am learning to listen better, to hear all the sides, all the voices, and to hear beneath the actual voiced issues to the broader topics initiating the current conversations. And lucky for me, my librarians colleagues are willing to converse with me about the long standing concerns that will play major roles in the upcoming decisions.
How fortunate to be a novice with such excellent support!
Now I am allowed to make a contribution too, allowed to weigh in on topics of concern as representing the library in conversations. It is all a bit heady. I am afraid I will put my foot in my mouth, or say something so kindergarten that people will pass me off as too new. Now is the time to listen, absorb, comment only when I truly have something to say of value that has not been mentioned by others.
I do find that my perspective as a librarian, because we are one of the few places on campus where everyone intersects, tends to be broader, to see issues cropping up early on. We have done much work in addressing customer service protocols and it turns out I can offer comments of substance. Whew! That's a relief. Not just my ideas or opinions, but valid data for consideration.
I have never been much on politics, but I am learning. Mostly I am learning to listen better, to hear all the sides, all the voices, and to hear beneath the actual voiced issues to the broader topics initiating the current conversations. And lucky for me, my librarians colleagues are willing to converse with me about the long standing concerns that will play major roles in the upcoming decisions.
How fortunate to be a novice with such excellent support!
Thursday, September 8, 2011
Choir At Last
I am so happy to be together with my choir! I love singing sacred music with them. I have been studying scores for awhile now, wanting the season to be enjoyable for them, filled with uplifting music that they will enjoy singing, music that will augment the services.
I think we have a good lineup, but as with every season, its a bit like beginning with a whole new choir. The balance and sound is different depending on who is singing this year and who has to step out for sanity reasons. Life is no less complicated when you are retired! I am so thankful for the ones who hang in there, despite how easy it would be to drop out for one reason or another, and all valid reasons.
We stretch and warm up, humming, yamming, me-may-ma-mo-mooing, and lip trilling. Yes, we are back. After last year's challenging season with my masters degree recital, this will be an easier year, but filled with good music. I have discovered that we have never sung "Keep Your Lamps Trimmed and Burning" and I ordered a new arrangement that I think they will like. We will sing it for our cluster choir event.
Ooo - it promises to be another stellar year. I can't wait.
I think we have a good lineup, but as with every season, its a bit like beginning with a whole new choir. The balance and sound is different depending on who is singing this year and who has to step out for sanity reasons. Life is no less complicated when you are retired! I am so thankful for the ones who hang in there, despite how easy it would be to drop out for one reason or another, and all valid reasons.
We stretch and warm up, humming, yamming, me-may-ma-mo-mooing, and lip trilling. Yes, we are back. After last year's challenging season with my masters degree recital, this will be an easier year, but filled with good music. I have discovered that we have never sung "Keep Your Lamps Trimmed and Burning" and I ordered a new arrangement that I think they will like. We will sing it for our cluster choir event.
Ooo - it promises to be another stellar year. I can't wait.
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Top Heavy
While wandering around following Sugar on morning jaunts, I happened to glance up at the tall pines near our building. The very top of the trees are so laden with pine cones that the branches are bowed under the weight of them. I wonder they don't snap off and come tumbling down on my head. Why doesn't the tree grow cones on the lower stronger branches?
As I investigated further, it occurs to me that the top branches, though smaller, are younger and more vibrant. They can be flexible because they have not yet grown rigid. And they are supported by the stronger older branches beneath them. Ah-ha!
Just like with human families. The younger people can tolerate having babies and dealing with little children better than the older people more set in their ways. They have the strength and energy to keep up and the flexibility to roll with the punches. Yes, they are also supported by the older, stronger (hopefully wiser) adults who bear them up in their work. Nice. Good plan.
Now if I could just turn out to be one of those strong, supportive parents, that would be grand. Working on it, but I have to admit, its a challenge.
As I investigated further, it occurs to me that the top branches, though smaller, are younger and more vibrant. They can be flexible because they have not yet grown rigid. And they are supported by the stronger older branches beneath them. Ah-ha!
Just like with human families. The younger people can tolerate having babies and dealing with little children better than the older people more set in their ways. They have the strength and energy to keep up and the flexibility to roll with the punches. Yes, they are also supported by the older, stronger (hopefully wiser) adults who bear them up in their work. Nice. Good plan.
Now if I could just turn out to be one of those strong, supportive parents, that would be grand. Working on it, but I have to admit, its a challenge.
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Girls' Night Out
We decide to find an eatery we have not frequented recently. Though we talked about Indian cuisine, we ended up at a place over on the east side of the city, nestled in a charming little cluster of specialty stores cuddled beside the canal called Aladdin's Natural Eatery.
I used to shop at a toy store there which sold toys that kids loved and were good for them at the same time. Pricey, but even when I barely had two nickels to rub together, worth the investment to challenge and build minds. Besides, they had all kinds of displays that kids could play with, and the boys got absorbed with things there for hours. Nice break for Mom, good list making event for Santa.
Parking is a bit of a challenge, but we find a place near the restaurant and enjoy the short walk in the chill of the evening air. The place is in the final gasps of summer tourism, just empty enough to be enjoyable. We manage to find the front door and step inside. The place is bustling, filled with tables of customers indulging in wonderful foods. The counter by the hostess station boasts all kinds of decadent desserts and we drool over them while waiting to be seated.
Our table is downstairs - we refuse the outdoors option. Too chilly. I look over the menu, quickly realizing that any restaurant that offers natural food does not have the kinds of things I can eat. I know better than to go with anything garlic laden ("but everything we cook has lots of garlic in it - its so good for you!" the waitress exclaims).
There are only 2 things on the menu that I feel comfortable trying. One is a cheese ravioli (despite the garlic, and I would have to ask that there be no tomato sauce). Instead, I go with the chicken dish. After we order, we sit shivering, trying to converse. Finally we ask a passing waitress to close the door to the patio, which she does. That's better.
Our food comes - it is very delicious though my plate has lots of greenery trim that I cannot eat. We chat, catching up on family, events, issues - my son's upcoming wedding, one friend's parents, the other friend's uncle. The setting sun glints multi colors off the water in the canal as we enjoy being together in the breaking of bread (and other goodies).
At last we are stuffed and the sun hangs low in the horizon. We are all ready for a cozy nap by a crackling fireplace, but we tear ourselves away, quickly wandering past the dessert counter with not so much as a regret. With a sigh, we climb into the car and settle in for the drive back to the west side where we will go our separate ways.
The evening has been like a cherry cordial - sweet and satisfying, a cherished time of fellowship and camaraderie. I am so grateful for good friends who graciously listen to me whine, then move on to better subjects without ostracizing me for being less than fun.
I used to shop at a toy store there which sold toys that kids loved and were good for them at the same time. Pricey, but even when I barely had two nickels to rub together, worth the investment to challenge and build minds. Besides, they had all kinds of displays that kids could play with, and the boys got absorbed with things there for hours. Nice break for Mom, good list making event for Santa.
Parking is a bit of a challenge, but we find a place near the restaurant and enjoy the short walk in the chill of the evening air. The place is in the final gasps of summer tourism, just empty enough to be enjoyable. We manage to find the front door and step inside. The place is bustling, filled with tables of customers indulging in wonderful foods. The counter by the hostess station boasts all kinds of decadent desserts and we drool over them while waiting to be seated.
Our table is downstairs - we refuse the outdoors option. Too chilly. I look over the menu, quickly realizing that any restaurant that offers natural food does not have the kinds of things I can eat. I know better than to go with anything garlic laden ("but everything we cook has lots of garlic in it - its so good for you!" the waitress exclaims).
There are only 2 things on the menu that I feel comfortable trying. One is a cheese ravioli (despite the garlic, and I would have to ask that there be no tomato sauce). Instead, I go with the chicken dish. After we order, we sit shivering, trying to converse. Finally we ask a passing waitress to close the door to the patio, which she does. That's better.
Our food comes - it is very delicious though my plate has lots of greenery trim that I cannot eat. We chat, catching up on family, events, issues - my son's upcoming wedding, one friend's parents, the other friend's uncle. The setting sun glints multi colors off the water in the canal as we enjoy being together in the breaking of bread (and other goodies).
At last we are stuffed and the sun hangs low in the horizon. We are all ready for a cozy nap by a crackling fireplace, but we tear ourselves away, quickly wandering past the dessert counter with not so much as a regret. With a sigh, we climb into the car and settle in for the drive back to the west side where we will go our separate ways.
The evening has been like a cherry cordial - sweet and satisfying, a cherished time of fellowship and camaraderie. I am so grateful for good friends who graciously listen to me whine, then move on to better subjects without ostracizing me for being less than fun.
Monday, September 5, 2011
Too Deer
Sugar froze, one paw in the air, her head turned towards the woods, sniffing wildly. I glanced towards the woods. A bit of misty fog swirled lazily across the meadow separating us from the treeline. Suddenly, out of the fog a doe appeared, unconcernedly chewing her cud, stepping daintily over the dew laden grass. Behind her, a small fawn, spots fading, stopped to snip some clover from bending stems. Two deer, too dear.
Deep within Sugar a growl began to rise, rumbling through her chest and escaping in a huff from her nostrils, steaming angrily into the morning air. She did not bark but strained against the leash I held fast. Mother deer turned her frosty gaze on us, froze momentarily, then ambled forward, apparently dismissing us as no particular threat to her child.
Sugar lunged forward, managing to pull me a good ten feet toward the big doe she was challenging. The mother whirled around and planted her feet, staring us down while her baby moseyed toward the underbrush. Still Sugar did not bark. Her incessant growl rose within her, some primal longing aching to be followed.
Without looking, Mama knew her child had stepped into the shadows of the trees. She quickly disappeared herself. Sugar whimpered like a spoiled child denied some treat. Then she turned and trotted back toward the house completely unconcerned. What an odd way to begin a day.
Deep within Sugar a growl began to rise, rumbling through her chest and escaping in a huff from her nostrils, steaming angrily into the morning air. She did not bark but strained against the leash I held fast. Mother deer turned her frosty gaze on us, froze momentarily, then ambled forward, apparently dismissing us as no particular threat to her child.
Sugar lunged forward, managing to pull me a good ten feet toward the big doe she was challenging. The mother whirled around and planted her feet, staring us down while her baby moseyed toward the underbrush. Still Sugar did not bark. Her incessant growl rose within her, some primal longing aching to be followed.
Without looking, Mama knew her child had stepped into the shadows of the trees. She quickly disappeared herself. Sugar whimpered like a spoiled child denied some treat. Then she turned and trotted back toward the house completely unconcerned. What an odd way to begin a day.
Sunday, September 4, 2011
One Last Hug
Today is the last time I can attend Community of the Savior for the summer. I have extended my time into fall as far as I can. Next week choir begins at the United Methodist Church, and I am excited to be back there working with such kind and dedicated people. I have missed them over the summer and will be glad to see them again.
I soak in and try to store up the service today, hoping it will fuel me in love and grace, preparing my heart for ministry. There was a time I longed to join a monastery. How wonderful it sounded to be able to spend the day in prayer and worship, singing through the Psalms, every hour of the day connecting with God. I suppose it would be uplifting to do that for a period of time, but eventually, I would want to return to the reality of life, to dirty my hands with dishes and laundry, with nurturing and comforting, with feeding and nursing.
Various retreats I have taken in the past have fallen far short of what I would really like to engage in when I set aside time to spend with God. How challenging it is to find the place and the routine that matches what I would do before God. Would that I could completely enter into His presence, ignoring my surroundings, immersed in Word and prayer in whatever way the Spirit unfolds that, completely unaware of time and others.
So far, the closest I have come to what I know of my personal style is in the service at CoS. So today I take myself on a mini retreat and participate fully in the sustenance offered, ready to carry that light into the world. I shall be back, by God's grace. But I also move forward by the same.
I soak in and try to store up the service today, hoping it will fuel me in love and grace, preparing my heart for ministry. There was a time I longed to join a monastery. How wonderful it sounded to be able to spend the day in prayer and worship, singing through the Psalms, every hour of the day connecting with God. I suppose it would be uplifting to do that for a period of time, but eventually, I would want to return to the reality of life, to dirty my hands with dishes and laundry, with nurturing and comforting, with feeding and nursing.
Various retreats I have taken in the past have fallen far short of what I would really like to engage in when I set aside time to spend with God. How challenging it is to find the place and the routine that matches what I would do before God. Would that I could completely enter into His presence, ignoring my surroundings, immersed in Word and prayer in whatever way the Spirit unfolds that, completely unaware of time and others.
So far, the closest I have come to what I know of my personal style is in the service at CoS. So today I take myself on a mini retreat and participate fully in the sustenance offered, ready to carry that light into the world. I shall be back, by God's grace. But I also move forward by the same.
Saturday, September 3, 2011
I Got the Music in Me
I am a bit frustrated. For the first time ever, a pastor has sent me the entire fall lineup of Scripture/sermon topics and focus. I should be setting aside time to prayerfully and thoughtfully select musical repertoire and approaches that will work well with the excellent plan in my hand.
But every time I schedule time to select the music, something comes up to prevent me from being able to focus on the topic or even put my hand to it. Finally, today, after weeks of no progress, I set aside a day to immerse myself in the repertoire. If I had my druthers, I would spend most of my time planning and organizing worship, rehearsing, learning, seeing how things fit together, finding a flow that affords people the opportunity to enter into the presence of God.
Today I find it difficult to match a preexisting set of anthems with the liturgical themes for this year. I find anthems with the right text, but the music is too ugly or too out-of-range for my singers or requires a larger ensemble than I have. Or it has a solo instrument we do not have easy access to. Or is so outdated in style as to be unacceptable to today's listeners.
I follow clues and read through multiple songs and track down memories of past performances. Each piece that I settle on feels like a major accomplishment. I get stuck here and there on a particular Sunday where nothing seems to fit. I dig down deep inside myself and listen to what music from my own past brings me to the sermon topic. Sometimes I light on a piece I have conducted elsewhere that would be perfect. I end up ordering 2 new octavos for this choir that I know they will enjoy and that will work well not just this year but in years to come.
Won't it be grand in heaven when the music just flows with no need for selection and rehearsing and imperfections and considerations of when the tenor is away!
But every time I schedule time to select the music, something comes up to prevent me from being able to focus on the topic or even put my hand to it. Finally, today, after weeks of no progress, I set aside a day to immerse myself in the repertoire. If I had my druthers, I would spend most of my time planning and organizing worship, rehearsing, learning, seeing how things fit together, finding a flow that affords people the opportunity to enter into the presence of God.
Today I find it difficult to match a preexisting set of anthems with the liturgical themes for this year. I find anthems with the right text, but the music is too ugly or too out-of-range for my singers or requires a larger ensemble than I have. Or it has a solo instrument we do not have easy access to. Or is so outdated in style as to be unacceptable to today's listeners.
I follow clues and read through multiple songs and track down memories of past performances. Each piece that I settle on feels like a major accomplishment. I get stuck here and there on a particular Sunday where nothing seems to fit. I dig down deep inside myself and listen to what music from my own past brings me to the sermon topic. Sometimes I light on a piece I have conducted elsewhere that would be perfect. I end up ordering 2 new octavos for this choir that I know they will enjoy and that will work well not just this year but in years to come.
Won't it be grand in heaven when the music just flows with no need for selection and rehearsing and imperfections and considerations of when the tenor is away!
Friday, September 2, 2011
One Week Down
I can't believe we are already at the end of the first week of the fall semester! Time has flown by. I love when students are back on campus. It has been a productive start despite being short handed and having many new people on board. I always tell our new people that in the academic world, it takes a good two years to really understand and be able to effectively improve work.
That comes as a surprise to new hires, but the academic year has many once-a-year activities. The first year you encounter something like Open House, for example, everything is new and a bit confusing. You aren't sure how to prepare, what to expect. You have no idea of the pacing or even the goal of the event.
The second year, you pay less attention to all the pieces because you know what to expect, having lived through it once. You are more aware of the broader issues, the big brush strokes. You have something with which to compare the success or failure of the event. By the third year, you remember what worked, what didn't, what you noted that could be improved, etc. and you are ready to make changes for reasons you understand. You have a sense of the impact of those choices and who will be affected by them. You can find ways to make the changes that will be less difficult for those involved to handle.
Too bad we don't get that same kind of opportunity for all of life's events. We expect people to make permanent decisions without understanding the consequences of their choices. For example, our students must declare a major without really knowing whether their personality and skill sets would be a good match for that kind of job. We expect people to know whether a marriage is a good idea before they have learned how to manage simpler relationships. We want people to make decisions about health care options without really knowing the implications of their choices.
Sure wish some of these activities could give us a trial run or a couple years exposure before we start jumping in there and making decisions! At least there is the small consolation of knowing that hindsight can be helpful for moving forward.
That comes as a surprise to new hires, but the academic year has many once-a-year activities. The first year you encounter something like Open House, for example, everything is new and a bit confusing. You aren't sure how to prepare, what to expect. You have no idea of the pacing or even the goal of the event.
The second year, you pay less attention to all the pieces because you know what to expect, having lived through it once. You are more aware of the broader issues, the big brush strokes. You have something with which to compare the success or failure of the event. By the third year, you remember what worked, what didn't, what you noted that could be improved, etc. and you are ready to make changes for reasons you understand. You have a sense of the impact of those choices and who will be affected by them. You can find ways to make the changes that will be less difficult for those involved to handle.
Too bad we don't get that same kind of opportunity for all of life's events. We expect people to make permanent decisions without understanding the consequences of their choices. For example, our students must declare a major without really knowing whether their personality and skill sets would be a good match for that kind of job. We expect people to know whether a marriage is a good idea before they have learned how to manage simpler relationships. We want people to make decisions about health care options without really knowing the implications of their choices.
Sure wish some of these activities could give us a trial run or a couple years exposure before we start jumping in there and making decisions! At least there is the small consolation of knowing that hindsight can be helpful for moving forward.
Thursday, September 1, 2011
First Class
I can hardly believe I have a request to teach library tools to a class this early in the semester! The first week people barely have their feet on the ground much less need to know how to find scholarly information for a research paper.
Besides we need to help our student workers get up to speed at the Circ Desk, ILL and Reserves and used to a new routine. All this with my Circulation Supervisor out on leave and a new Evening Supervisor just beginning to learn the ropes. But there you have it. All aspects of my position coming into play at the same time, a rare but possible situation.
I have created an interactive presentation for our new students, asking them to guess how many books we have, how much we spend on resources, whether academic information is available through a Google search, etc. They vote online via our Turning Point Technology and can see immediately what their classmates think. They smile and play along good naturedly, little realizing that when they come to their first research paper, this stuff will help. We have a relaxed conversation.
Meanwhile, in the background, I am aware that the new student at the desk this hour will be encountering things she is not comfortable doing yet. Even simply answering the phone is a huge obstacle when you are unsure of yourself. We wrote out the greeting for them, and at least they have a place to begin.
I watch the typical reaction. Panic when the phone rings and they realize we are expecting them to answer. Hesitation and query - what do I do? A glance at the written patter, then they pick up and repeat the words. Pause. Long silence. Hand over the receiver, and an anxious explanation of the question to the staff person standing next to them. At which point the staff person takes over. Sigh of relief.
Soon they will handle these calls as a matter of course. And they will learn the answers quickly. Its just getting over that first hill. Same with the class. They are "reading the patter" today, but when the real drill hits, I will see the panic and hear the questions. Once they have worked through it for themselves, they will be good to go.
I'd like to think I will eventually work myself out of a job, but I know there are more new people to come. There's nothing like the personal assist the first time or two. Then they are off, just like a kid learning to ride a 2 wheeler, excited to be taking the first steps to freedom.
Besides we need to help our student workers get up to speed at the Circ Desk, ILL and Reserves and used to a new routine. All this with my Circulation Supervisor out on leave and a new Evening Supervisor just beginning to learn the ropes. But there you have it. All aspects of my position coming into play at the same time, a rare but possible situation.
I have created an interactive presentation for our new students, asking them to guess how many books we have, how much we spend on resources, whether academic information is available through a Google search, etc. They vote online via our Turning Point Technology and can see immediately what their classmates think. They smile and play along good naturedly, little realizing that when they come to their first research paper, this stuff will help. We have a relaxed conversation.
Meanwhile, in the background, I am aware that the new student at the desk this hour will be encountering things she is not comfortable doing yet. Even simply answering the phone is a huge obstacle when you are unsure of yourself. We wrote out the greeting for them, and at least they have a place to begin.
I watch the typical reaction. Panic when the phone rings and they realize we are expecting them to answer. Hesitation and query - what do I do? A glance at the written patter, then they pick up and repeat the words. Pause. Long silence. Hand over the receiver, and an anxious explanation of the question to the staff person standing next to them. At which point the staff person takes over. Sigh of relief.
Soon they will handle these calls as a matter of course. And they will learn the answers quickly. Its just getting over that first hill. Same with the class. They are "reading the patter" today, but when the real drill hits, I will see the panic and hear the questions. Once they have worked through it for themselves, they will be good to go.
I'd like to think I will eventually work myself out of a job, but I know there are more new people to come. There's nothing like the personal assist the first time or two. Then they are off, just like a kid learning to ride a 2 wheeler, excited to be taking the first steps to freedom.