#sol18 A Fish Tale

Grandma!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I need help!!!!!!!!!!
I caught a fish!!!!!!!

Max is one of our youngest grandkids and he is fishing crazy. Give him a pole when he comes to the lake and he is set for the day.

Where is it? What did you do with it?

It's on the dock. My friends are watching it.

Well, let me throw some clothes on...  it's 8:30 on Saturday morning. I'm lounging and drinking coffee.

 My friends are so helpful. Tony, you should get some friends like mine. Tony is his big brother and has barely opened his eyes.

I follow him out the door and up the road to the dock. Mind you, he jumped on his bike and raced up the road. I walk as fast as I can. The neighbors are laughing as I walk down the road. They heard him yelling all the way to the cabin.

I hand him an old towel and tell him to hold the fish with the towel and take the hook out of its mouth. He's pretty proud when he puts that fish in the bucket.

I stay and watch for quite a while. 3 boys. 1 fishing pole. Surely there would be some fighting. But no. Their motto was teamwork. They handed the pole off to each other. Baited hooks and took fish off. Together.

Grandpa frying up some of the bluegills

Eventually, the other boys left, but not Max. 6 hours later we made him leave his fishing spot for a few hours. He went back that night and caught more fish. And again in the morning. He ended up catching enough bluegills that there was enough fish for all of us to have lunch!

#sol18 . I Am A Collector of Words

Today's Writing Quote: To write means more than putting pretty words on a page; the act of writing is to share a part of your soul with the world.





I am a collector of quotes. Of words. Other people's words. I save them everywhere my notebooks, random slips of paper, Pinterest. Truth be told, I have four different boards on Pinterest where I save words that touch my soul. I have poetic words, quotes, book quotes and writing quotes.

My love of other people's words began in ninth grade when my social studies teacher started class every day with a quote. We wrote the quote in our notebook, along with the author. The notebook was graded quarterly. If we were absent, it was our responsibility to get the quote we missed from a friend.

I don't remember him writing the quote on the board so it would be easier to write down. I just remember him standing in the door frame, arms crossed, saying the quote in whole once, in phrases once, and then again in whole. No repeats. Listen and get it.

I wish I could say I still had the notebook, but it is long gone, along with many of the memories of that time. But one quote stayed with me throughout the years. This one from Albert Camus. At the time, I loved it because I hated winter and loved summer and wanted to keep "summer me" around all the time.

I still like it for that.

But as I grew as a person it also said that I survived. I handled whatever life had to throw at me. It reminds me to find the JOY, the happiness, the good, when all around me seems to be going to hell.

As I wrote this post and looked for images to go along with it, I found what I think is the original quote (I'm going to investigate a little more). And I smiled. Because this is the quote I will hang on to for the rest of my life.

Not My Room Anymore

Going back to school and subbing this winter has been good for me. Truth be told, I get a little bored once in a while, and getting back in the classroom is fun (and a lot less work than teaching full time). I love seeing my kids again and meeting some new ones. I get to see all my friends and catch up on all the school gossip.

But I miss my room.

The physical space is there, but the life I knew in it is gone. When it was mine, you knew when you walked in that reading and writing were important in that room. You knew by peeking in that students and their voice were valued. There was life in that room. Pods of kids were always about living, breathing, and learning.

There are no signs pointing the way to Oz or threatening with flying monkeys.
There are no speech folders cluttering the counters waiting to be put away.

There are no books lining the walls, ready to be grabbed to prove a point or entice a new reader. There are no books in the chalk tray waiting to be remembered.
There are no books in the basket resting until a new reader finds it.

There are no books.

It's a Spanish room now and I'm sure learning still happens. It just doesn't seem to have the vibrancy it once did. Or maybe, it's just my memories overshadow the reality.

#sol17 I Want to Remember...

Sunday, January 1

The silence is welcome, yet deafening.  Our boys and their families hit the road and should be home by now. And I am tired. a good tired. A cozy tired. A "PJ pants and new fuzzy slippers wrapped in a blanket in my favorite chair" kind of tired. But before I doze in my chair watching TV, there are some things I want to remember...

• the grandkids' excitement for one more Christmas
• Chloe's excitement and then despair once everyone arrived--including the new dog, Maverick.  She's not so fond of Maverick
• Hearing "When are we going to open presents" 1,000,000 times and laughing at all of them
• Mitch (our oldest son) checking out the presents to see what he had under the tree. Once a kid, always a kid
• Hayden's face when he opened his "Poop" emoji slippers (I hope his mom got a good picture of that)
• Kaylee and Angelina's excitement for their books (The Fault in Our Stars for Kaylee and Roller Girl for Angelina. I'm excited they are finally getting to the age where I know good books for them)
• Food. Way too much food.
• Playing Tripoly and the funny, crazy things that get said as we play. Let's just say we get a little competitive playing games :)
• Dog cuddles
• Boston putting together the little guys toys (Yea for grandkids who can put together toys!)
• How fast plates of Christmas cookies disappeared
• Laughter
• Love shared

And now it's Tuesday. Back to school. And I have memories to make me smile.

Revisiting MOMENTS

2016 has been bittersweet.
Staying in the MOMENT has been difficult.
But I tried.

I wasn't sure I could write this post, that there were any joyful moments to share. I seemed to have blocked many out. So I took some time and scrolled through my Facebook page. Do you know what I found there????

Lots of joyful moments. Moments important enough that I shared them with friends and family.





My students created many of these moments. Speech kids always give me laughs and reasons to be proud. While last year wasn't our best, it definitely had fun moments for us all.  Throughout the year there were unexpected meetings with former students--JOYful meet ups that reminded me I have made a difference in at least a few lives.

I also worked with an amazing student teacher last year, who gave me back my enthusiasm for teaching. I credited her with my JOY in teaching this year.

There were moments with friends and family. My husband and I love spending as much time as we can with those important in our lives and 2016 made that more important.  In September, we lost our dear friend, Tom, to cancer. Tom wanted one more summer at the lake. He got that, passing away on the first day of fall.

But before he passed, we shared many cherished moments with Tom and his family and our friends. Each concert, each meal, each day spent sharing memories became more precious. And while we are sad he is gone, the summer reminded us why it's important to stay in the moment.

So good-bye 2016. You are leaving, but the moments will remain as precious memories.

{#sol15} 2/31 Saturday Morning Musings

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for the March Slice of Life challenge.
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I settle into my seat and the humming of the tires on the road lull me into a semi-conscious state. As I listen to the buzzing of teenage voices behind me, the music an undercurrent of
the anticipation,
the anxiety,
the nerves of the day,
I am transported back to another early Saturday morning with the same soundtrack.

It's all the same.

Except, of course,

That now I am the coach,

Not the teenager.

I remember vividly these early morning rides. The feeling in the pit of my stomach. Was it excitement or nerves? Probably a combination of both, and if you used it to fuel you, great things happened. But if that feeling controlled your mind, well, let's hope that didn't happen.

I remember the waiting for performances and then waiting for results. I remember the friends who stood behind me, ready to congratulate me or support me, whatever the situation required.

In forty years, nothing has really changed. Except now, not only do I have to take care of MY 

Anticipation,

Anxiety,

Nerves,

I also have to take care of their

Anticipation,
Nerves,
Anxiety.

Back on the bus with my speech kids, it's a good place to be.

9/31 Someone Forgot to Tell the Whales

Join the fun of the March Slice of Life Challenge at Two Writing Teachers

It didn't feel like Christmas

     shorts

       flip flops

         shirt sleeves

All these are summer things

Our first full day on Maui was Christmas Day. We had decided before we went that we would need to do something special on Christmas because we knew we'd miss our families and traditions. 

A dinner cruise on the ocean seemed to fit the bill.

They told us it might be chilly, to bring a sweater or light jacket. Trust me, to hardy midwesterners, used to below zero wind chills, it was a beautiful night.

A gorgeous sunset painted the sky and the ocean with brilliant colors. Everywhere I looked, the oranges and reds transformed the view around us.

It was peaceful, relaxing, an amazing part of our trip. It didn't seem like it could get any better....

And then someone saw the whales....

December is very early in the whale season in Hawaii, which runs from mid-January through mid-March.  Everyone said we may not see any, they'd be hard to find. 

Someone forgot to tell the whales.

We saw whales every time we were on the ocean (and dolphins too), but these were our first. 

Our Christmas Whales

Thoughts on Tiggers and the End of the Year

So here we are. The last full real day of school. Tomorrow is a half day of handing things back, an awards assembly, and then they are gone. And, so of course, like most teachers, I look back on the year and think about what worked, what didn't, what drove me crazy and what gave me JOY.

There is a lot of end of the year craziness going on. My trusty yardstick disappeared. I looked everywhere for it. I mentioned it the other day in my 8th hour speech class.

"Well, yeah, about that....."

And the story came out about filming commercials and hitting a ball and, well, let's just say that now I have a half a yard stick. No telling what happened to the other half. Gotta love my SSB's.

And my freshmen boys, well they are another story. They are done with sitting still and being quiet (not they ever really did those things). A few days ago, Katherine wrote about how being the parent of boys helps you in the teaching of them. And I have to agree. I think you are used to all those strange behaviors. I tweeted her on Friday and told her my freshmen boys weren't acting like puppies--they were more like Tiggers (you do remember Tigger from Winnie the Pooh, don't you?).

Watch this and imagine several of them in your room...

And then there are the procrastinators.

I don't believe in zeroes. I don't give much homework, so the work I  assign is important in showing me how kids are doing. I won't give a zero until all avenues are exhausted (or the last day of a semester, whichever comes first).

But

Now those "I don't care" attitudes have turned into "What do you mean I'm going to fail?" incredulousness.

Now I'm getting work.

I'm also getting, "I turned my work in at midnight, why don't you have it in the gradebook yet?"

Now don't think I'm all negativity. Really, I'm not.

I'm having lots of fun today talking with kids and sharing why I will miss them.

I'll miss the randomness of the conversations in my first hour Creative Writing class...
      Who'd win in a fight between Batman and Superman?
I'll miss the kids who sit in the little square outside my room and avoid work like the plague...
     Mizz Day, I gotta get my music going first or I can't concentrate
I'll miss quiet freshmen girls who are planning their reading for the summer.
      I want to read all the Nicholas Sparks books this summer. I hope I can find them all.
I'll miss the silly ones who stop in to visit in the middle of a class period
     I'm your favorite, right Mizz Day?
I'll miss "Father" B and his speeches
    We made a deal with the devil and won the golden fiddle
I'll miss the competitiveness of some and the passiveness of others,
I'll miss the noisy hallways and the silliness.
I'll miss my kids.
But not enough that I won't enjoy my too short summer vacation.

And, by the way. Batman wins every time. He's the keeper of the kryptonite, you see.

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#20 of 31 Where I'm From

Each semester I use George Ella Lyon's poem "Where I'm From" as a mentor text as I teach inspire force  cajole students into writing poetry. This year, I really began to seriously write with them. Here is my poem

I'm from Comet

and Clorox and the white glove test.

I'm from using the back door

so you don't track dirt in the house.

I'm from tents on the clothesline 

on hot summer days

pretending to be queen of the castle.

I'm from spoon fudge and frozen Christmas cookies

(they always taste better that way).

From Don and Pat, who married too young.

I'm from playing Pitch and 

loving the lake.

From "Watch your sisters" and "Don't forget to get money from your dad."

I'm from strong Norwegian women

and the men who loved them

with a little Dutch and German stubborness

thrown in.

In the boxes in the closet

and the photo albums on the shelf

sit  memories of a past

I sometimes try to ignore

But will always be part of me.

12/12/12: My 12 Favorite Christmas Ornaments

I love decorating my house for Christmas, and, just like my grandma, I have LOTS of ornaments. It's only natural then that my 12/12/12 post is about my 12 favorite Christmas ornaments.

The Noel Angels

I love these little angels because they remind me of home.  I got them out of "Grandma's Garage" after she passed away. My mom also has a set that my sisters and I played with. For years, my mom was the N, I was the O, my sisters were the E and L.  My brother was born when I was 8 and we all moved up an angel. Poor mom was kicked out of the angel club.  

Santa Baby Toy

My oldest son was born a week before Christmas and this was his very first toy of any kind. It was given to him by someone who was a dear friend during this time of my life.  Although I gave both sons all the Christmas ornaments that were theirs when they married and moved out on their own, this one I kept. It holds lots of memories.

Old Fashioned Santa

This is another treasure out of Grandma's garage.  There used to be two. I always let kids play with them until one was destroyed. Then I put this one up.  I collect Santas and this was really my first. 

Family Pictures

I always have family pictures sitting around. I think it has to do with the fact that no family lives in town. At Christmas I have favorite holiday pictures in winter frames. This particular one is of my mom, my sisters and I one family Christmas. We're singing along to the Jackson 5 Christmas album (that dates us a little, doesn't it). It was silly. It was fun. And it started a new family tradition.

Snow Days Screen Painting

What teacher doesn't love a snow day once in awhile? My husband bought this for me one year and it remains a favorite of mine. An added a bonus--I can leave it up until I'm sick of winter!

A Gift From Santa

I am a firm believer in the rule "If you don't believe in Santa you get underwear for Christmas". And because I am a believer, I often get Santa presents in December. This one came in early December one year so that I could enjoy it the whole season.

Snowman Scene Nightlight

One year my best friend and I were doing a little Christmas shopping in town.  I saw this and loved it. She bought it right out from under me. I was so disappointed. But several weeks later gave it to me when we celebrated Christmas together.

Wooden Santa Hanging

More proof that Santa exists!

The Elves

They're just plain cute. I used to put this in front of our Christmas tree because I liked how it looked as if the elves were decorating the tree. But then we got Chloe. She tends to eat things like this. So I moved them to the top of the stairs. Yep. I decorate the upstairs bedrooms too.

Santa Treetopper

What I really want for the top of the tree is Mom's one-eyed angel (long story there). But I have to settle for my Santa.  

Ornaments from students

As a middle school teacher, I still received gifts from students (high school students just don't seem to do that). Many of them hang on my tree. They give me a smile every year.

Santa Portrait

I found this portrait one year and had to add it to my Santa collection. This is just what I imagine the jolly old soul to look like.

Musical Snowmen

I love these guys. Often when I'm cleaning or cooking I wind them up and let them play. These used to sit at the foot of the bar in our dining room. But once again, Chloe. She has this thing about stuffed toys of any kind, so now I put them up.  The grandkids love them, so when they come for Christmas, I'll have to put them somewhere lower.

Snowman Family

One of our sons gave me this for Christmas one year.  It's just cute and I like it. Always reminds me of him.

The Grandparent Snowmen

My husband gave this to me the year our first grandchild was born. I left the tag on because it says "To Grandma Deb from Grandpa Googie". The first thing I received as a Grandma.....

So, that's it. 12 of my favorite Christmas ornaments. All with special memories. All given with love. All shared with you.  Now, what are your 12 favorite things?

The Unwritten Vow

It wasn't part of our wedding vows, but it should have been.

I dealt with poopy diapers and poop in the yard.  I dealt with puking kids and puking animals. I kept turtles and frogs and fish in the house when everyone knows those creatures live in the wild (I drew the line at snakes). I killed my share of spiders and other creepy crawlies.

BUT

I will not deal with mice and dead critters.  That's his job. (I'm sure it's written in a husband handbook somewhere.) And it is a hard and fast rule in our house (It tops my No gifts with cords rule).

So when I saw the tell-tale signs of a mouse in the house, I followed the rule and told my husband about it.

"Oh, no. Are you sure?" 

Am I sure? Really? As I am taking all the dish towels out of the drawer and washing them (I'd really like to throw them all and get new ones, but that may be a little extreme), he asks me if I'm sure.

I give him "the look".

"OK. I'll get something tomorrow."

The next night he came home with glue traps. GLUE TRAPS.  The mouse runs across them and gets stuck to the trap. He, of course, talked to people all day about what to use.

"These work great," he proclaims.

"Fine," I answer. "But I will NOT be touching those things after I put them out.  That's your job."

He chuckles. "I know."

A couple of days go by. No signs of anything. Of course, it has warmed up outside. The critters don't need to come in and get warm. Each day I take a peek inside the cupboard under the sink and the towel(less) drawer.

And then it happens.

I peek in the drawer and there it is. A mouse stuck to the trap. I'm sure I looked and sounded like a cartoon character.

"Oooo, oo, oo.  Greeeeggggg.  There's a mouse in the drawer.

"Are you sure?"

Really? Again with the are you sure?  Just because I'm running from a mouse stuck in a glue trap, you question what I saw?

He laughs as he walks to the kitchen (shouldn't he be running to save me?). Opens the drawer. Yep, there's a mouse in there.  He grabs a plastic bag.

"Well, come out here and hold the sack and help me."

Really? I have a serious case of the heebie-jeebies and he wants me to hold the sack.

I don't think so.

"No. I told you when you bought the damn glue traps that I would have nothing to do with this. I will not hold the sack."

He laughs at me again.

"Come on. Just hold the sack.You don't have to touch it or anything. I'll pull out the drawer and dump it in."

See, he's not too fond of this either.

"Oh, I think it's still alive. Maybe I'll get it tomorrow."

Yeah. And I won't be helping you then, either.

Enjoy more Slice of Life stories at Two Writing Teachers!

Practicing What I Teach

After reading and discussing Write Beside Them by Penny Kittle this summer with a group of blogging friends, I vowed I would write more WITH my Creative Writing students. Today's prompt I really like ("stolen" Diana at One Literacy Coach)

Things I Didn't Do This Summer:

I didn't go to the hospital when I rolled my ankle (although I think I should have)

I didn't get to see Los Lonely Boys in concert in Arnold's Park (although we went to another concert and saw them.

I didn't enjoy the excessive heat we had for much of the last part of the summer (although I found ways to beat it)

I didn't miss my grandchildren ( I saw them a lot)

I didn't read near enough books

I didn't break any records in golf

I didn't write all I wanted

I didn't catch the bouquet at one of the weddings I attended this summer

I didn't cry when school started

Something Just for Fun
I found this video through Pinterest this morning and thought I would share. It just made me happy:

Heartshots

Chloe is a big dog...she weighs about 50 pounds and is VERY strong Trust me. When we walk, if she wants to go somewhere, she's going to go. And she's wild. Crazy. Jumps on people. Barks and growls. She can sound very ferocious. Max, our next to the youngest grandchild, is a little peanut. At a year and a half, he is fearless. The two of them are becoming great buddies.

This may be part of the reason....

Friday morning, Max and I are sitting at the kitchen table in the cabin. Max has a handful of dry cereal on his tray that he is supposed to be eating. He jabbers away at me, telling me stories in Maxspeak, that I pretend to understand. I'm not really paying attention to what else is going on.

Then I notice that Max's little hand keeps reaching down under the table. A big grin spreads across his face and he jabbers at me. Pretty soon, the hand goes under the table again. More jabber.

"Max, no food for Chloe!"

He looks at me. Must be wondering just how serious I am. And slowly, picks up a piece of cereal, and hands it to Chloe under the table. Then a huge grin takes over his face. I am lost. I can't help but laugh at both of them.

And no wonder Chloe doesn't eat until the middle of the night when the grandkids come to visit!

Later in the day, the sweetest fifteen minutes of the summer happened.

Chloe found a small spot on the couch to curl up on. I'm sure she thought she was going to sneak in a nap.  Max was running around the cabin getting into all those things that toddlers do. He noticed Chloe on the couch and went up and patted her paw and laid his head on her. He did this several times, each time turning to me and telling me about it in Maxspeak. Soon, he was trying to climb up on the couch, but there was no room. Pillows and bedding were piled everywhere.

I moved the pillows.

Max pulled himself up on the couch, then leaned over and gave Chloe a big hug and kiss. Then he just laid his little head down on her and sighed. Or maybe the sigh came from Chloe. They were both very content and just stayed there together for awhile. It was seriously the sweetest thing I had ever seen. This great big dog and this little boy, cuddled together. This heartshot will stay with me for a long time. It's one of those moments I wish I could put in a jar and take out when I needed a smile.

But young dogs and toddlers don't stay quiet for long. There was a lick and kiss and then they were both down and on their way.


By the way, "heartshot" isn't my term. It comes from Barry Lane and his books on teaching writing. I just love it.

Summer Relaxation

I wasn't sure what I was writing about today. There are lots of things floating around in my head. But, then I read Katherine's post today about her exhausting summer schedule and, suddenly, a post started writing itself in my head.

Last Thursday, on our way back to the lake, my husband and I stopped and watched the t-ball game two of our grandchildren were in. I started thinking about all the baseball games I have watched in my life.  Now you see, I wasn't really a sports fan growing up. I had a PE based knowledge of most sports.  But then, my husband and I had two boys. And they seemed to have the sports gene. I swear the oldest came out throwing a ball and yelling, "Go Cubs" (And "Just wait til next year!). So, I learned about baseball and basketball and football from the boys' perspective.  I learned about squeeze plays, clipping and moving screens. I learned to keep my mouth shut when they didn't get a hit, grab a catch or make a basket. I yelled encouragement--but not too much (wouldn't want to embarrass them). In the summer, I became an expert at packing coolers with somewhat healthy things to get us through the day. When both boys were playing baseball, it was not uncommon to have  multiple games in a day.  In fact one year, there was a week when I had 11 games.

Our older son and his family came to the trailer for the weekend. And that too, made me think back to summers with the boys.They have three kids, so there was always something going on. It seemed we just cleaned up from one meal or activity and it was time to start the next one.  Pretty much like I remembered. My summer calendar used to look like a corporate executive's.  We moved from one activity to another like a well-oiled machine (mostly). The boys picked what activities they wanted to join and we made the schedule work. We went from Art in the park to swimming lessons to baseball practice (Of course, it helped that in our small town, they could ride their bikes to practices). We'd squeeze in lunch (probably a few too many cans of spaghettios or raviolios). There were always pick up games of some kind, afternoons of fun swimming, and weekends of camping.

Nowadays, my summers are much more relaxed.  I'm pretty selfish with my time and do what I want, when I want (mostly). Friends with children envy the fact that I can sleep past 6:30. I can sit and stare at the lake. I can read all day if I want....or watch movies....or write......or.... well,  you get the idea. My house stays pretty clean (we're not there much), the lake trailer doesn't take much to clean. I love my summers and life is pretty good, but every once in awhile, I miss those summers of the past

Grandma's Kitchen

The Monday morning warmup from Jo Knowles was to describe a kitchen from our childhood.  Grandma's kitchen I decided, made a perfect slice.  And, yes, this is the same grandma as Grandma's Garage.

Quite simply, it smelled of love.

There was always something cooking or baking in Grandma's kitchen, especially on Sundays.  Sunday dinners put most restaurant buffets to shame. Grandma and Grandpa started cooking early in the morning, and it seemed like the stove or oven was going all day. A beef roast and a pork roast cooked together in a roaster (because it made the best gravy to cook them together), pork cutlets or chicken fried in a nearby pan. Potatoes boiled. Macaroni and cheese baked in the oven (called witch's brew when it was warmed up for supper). Pies cooled on the counter--lemon merengue, banana cream, French Silk chocolate, and always an apple.  Recipes never skimped on ingredients--real whipped cream, pie crusts from lard, butter for potatoes.  You didn't try to diet on Sunday.

The grown-ups gathered at the kitchen table for dinner. The seven grandkids sat in the "breezeway". Conversation flowed from room to room, as food passed around the table.  If you were hungry when you left the table, it was your own fault.

After the dinner was cleared and dishes were done, we moved on to the activities of the day.  Often we grandkids were herded up and taken to the movies (I have a special fondness for John Wayne/Clint Eastwood/cowboy movies to this day). If it was nice outside, we might be able to talk Grandpa into a hike through the woods.

But my favorite Sundays were the days we played cards.

When I finally got to start playing cards with the grownups I felt like I had arrived. Grandma taught us all to play cards at that kitchen table.  And you always played for money. Your money. If you didn't have money to play, you could "earn" it, but Grandma never gave it to you. We first learned 500 Rummy. Then Pitch, 500. And finally Poker--all those goofy "ladies" games with lots of jokers.  Grandma never let us win. If you beat her a card game, you really beat her, and she loved it.  If you made mistakes playing, you heard about it, and you better not make that mistake again.  I loved playing cards with her.

Sundays ended as they began, with food.  Dinners remains were pulled from the fridge and warmed up. We gathered around the kitchen table and laughed and joked about the day.

Grandma and Grandpa's  house was my safe haven as a kid. I always knew I was loved there. When life got tough at home, I could ride my bike to see them. We'd sit at the kitchen table, have a cookie and a glass of milk and I could spill my troubles. After an hour or so, I'd feel better and ride back home, ready to face the world again.

Expressions of Love

Yesterday was the last day of school. This morning I woke up to a snowstorm.....of toilet paper. I'd been TP'd.  (I don't know how or where this tradition started, but I know it's been going on forever.  Kids did it when I was in high school.)

The scene made me chuckle as I put Chloe outside.  It took me back to my 50th birthday.

My birthday fell on a Saturday that year. It was also the day of state speech contest, so I spent the day with my speech kids. I brought cupcakes and celebrated with my students.

When I got home at about 7, a party was in place. My husband and sons had planned a small surprise party for me. It was great. Friends and family, lots of fun,

Now, some of those friends and family smoked. So, there was usually someone outside having a cigarette.  My friend came in after one of those cigarette breaks. "Deb, I caught some kids trying to TP your house. A car pulled up, a couple of kids got out and started throwing rolls of toilet paper at the crab apple tree. I think I scared them away."

Sure enough, we looked out the window and TP was flying from the front tree. We thought that would be the end of it. But, no.

Later the same friend is outside on the back deck. Same car. Same kids. Same result.

They've been caught twice now. Surely, they are done.

Nope.

Later I'm standing on the back deck with her and the car pulls up. A student gets out and starts walking through my backyard. Now, you have to know that my birthday is in mid-March. In northeast Iowa, that generally means there is snow on the ground. Lots of snow.

As he tramps through the snow, my friend and I are laughing that they are going to get caught again!  I yelled out, "Really. Three times you've been caught. Aren't you done yet?"

"Yea. I'm just looking for my cell phone. I lost it the last time."

I roared.  Karma, as they say, is a bitch.  I went and got a flashlight so he could see in the yard and find his phone.

Several of my speech kids decided to help me celebrate my 50th birthday.  Expressions of love. But they gave me more than that. This is the funniest TP'ing story I know. And I tell it all the time.  That school year, I told everyone about how they got caught three times. We gave them a special award at the speech banquet.  The student who drove "the getaway car", was revealed at the banquet.  It was the most fun I had in a long time.

So this morning when I saw the toilet paper flying, I thought of it as an expression of love. I'm pretty sure I know who did it. My only regret is that school is over.  I could get some mileage out of this!

Music of My Life

I drove to a nearby town this morning blaring Adele as loud as I could.  I love Adele--not to sing along to--I can't sing with her. When I want to sing along, I have another set of CDs to play. But, it got me thinking about songs I associate with different parts of my life.

When we were young and lived at home, my sisters and brother and I remember our parents and their friends getting together to play cards many weekends.  Country music blared throughout the house. Johnny Cash, Loretta Lynn, Hank Williams.  Our lullabies.  One song stands out from this. The Battle of New Orleans by Johnny Horton.  One year at Christmas my siblings and I sang the song from beginning to end because Mom didn't believe we all knew it.

In high school I listened to whatever was on the radio.  My best friend and I cruised up and down Main Street with the radio blasting.  We would scope out the cute guys as we drove for hours up and down the same path, honking and giggling as we would pass them.  But one song always takes me back to high school. I heard it in the parking lot of Walmart this morning as I parked my car. It reminds me of all my friends in contest speech and riding the bus to contest. Black Water by the Doobie Brothers.




In college I really broadened my music horizons--I hung out with many music majors.  I listened to and liked many different styles of music (except opera. Just never could listen to it) But mostly I listened to folk singers with acoustic guitars, Barbra Streisand and Melissa Manchester.  The song that stands out takes me right back to a certain place and time. As part of my work study,  I worked in a little greasy spoon on campus. It was called Dantes.  On weekends they would have live music. This was the song




I met my husband several years after college. One of the ways I knew he was the one--we had many of the same albums.  Although, old hippy that he is, he had a lot more than I did.  But no one I knew listened to Jerry Jeff Walker, Michael Murphy, or Michael Johnson--a favorite from college.




When we had kids, the song was Puff the Magic Dragon.  When we would get together with friends, the women would sometimes take over the song choice--Mom's Night At the Stereo we called it. All songs you could sing along to!  I still love Down at the Twist and Shout by Mary Chapin Carpenter. The guys didn't always want to admit it, but they enjoyed what we played. Except for Billy Ray Cyrus. They weren't too fond of him.

And now, I still listen to many different genres. Country, Rock, Jazz, Musicals. But I have to have lots of songs because I never know what I'm going to be in the mood for. Sometimes I shuffle through, other times I listen to a whole CD.   My students are often amazed at the songs I know and what's on my ipod. Though they are more amazed that I have an ipod.

Memories (18/31)

As I bask in the sun

Watching

the grandkids

Chase

Each other with squirt guns

on a warm March afternoon

I think of another birthday chase.

Sitting in the backseat

Watching 

Grandpa

Racing 

down Main Street

Chasing

Mu favorite red tights

That blew out of the car

On a blustery March afternoon.

As I check out the flowers 

Peeking

Out of the ground

Celebrating life

I think of other flowers

Standing at attention

Honoring the dead

As I bask in the sun

Memories 

Chase 

Through my mind

Intertwine

With the present

Taking me back

Reminding me of 

Life's Circle

Grandma's Garage

It was a two car garage that never saw a car parked in it, but if you ever needed anything, it was in Grandma's Garage.

This garage was stacked floor to ceiling with everything you could imagine. Boxes of all sizes packed with everything from Christmas decorations (72 boxes of them!) to out of season, out of size clothes. Brand new garbage cans packed tightly with sheets of all sizes and towels. Cans of Folger's coffee (at one point 72 pounds of it). Christmas presents bought throughout the year and hidden away on the top shelf, away from Grandkids' prying eyes. Cases of toilet paper. Mementos from long ago.

I wish I had a picture of it, because no one ever believes my stories.

One year, my dad was invited to a friend's wedding.  He told my grandma he was going to buy them a Crock Pot (something new that came out that year). Grandma asked him what color he wanted. Yep--out in the garage there were several...

Grandma worked at a local department store. One time, the store sent someone out to her house and to buy back several cases of the toilet paper she had in the garage. It was a great sale and they had run out.

Grandpa always said it cost him $3.00 a day for her to work there.

He was probably right.

The garage was a magical place. There was just enough room in the center that we grandkids would play out there when the weather didn't allow us outside.  But, never ever, during the height of Christmas season. Then, there just wasn't enough hiding spaces for all the presents she thought she needed to buy. Of course, there were seven grandkids, so it took a lot of hiding spaces.

Going off to college was a breeze. I just shopped Grandma's Garage for the dorm life essentials: sheets, towels, coffee pot, coffee. She tried to send toasters and crock pots with me, but the college didn't want us having cooking supplies.

Grandma died in December of my junior year. That night, when we all gathered in her kitchen, the tears fell and laughter rang through the house as we talked about her.  At one point my dad and aunt got up and began going through the pockets of Grandma's aprons.  You see, she also hoarded money. And she kept it in the pockets of her ever present apron.

The following summer, it was time for a garage sale. And we began going through the garage. All of took what we needed--sheets and towels, coffee pots and crock pots. And the rest went up for sale.  We found some things that made us laugh. There was an oak doll bunk bed set that I remembered getting for Christmas one year. Grandpa told us she couldn't find one when it came time to wrap presents, so she went out and bought another.

Even now, 35 years later, I have things from Grandma's garage. Embroidered dish towels that I won't use, remnants of towels I use for rags, tablecloths put out on special occasions, a set of dishes. But it's the Christmas decorations that have really stood the test of time. And every year, when I put them out, I think of her and her seventy two boxes of decorations.

Grandpa's Legacy

Every morning, as I walk from the parking lot to the high school, I pick up the trash that appears upon my path. I don't make a big deal about it. I just pick up what I can and throw it in the trash when I get into the building.

There are several students who see me do this most every day. One finally asked why I do it. It isn't my job.

He's right. It isn't my job. But if I didn't leave places a little cleaner than when I got there, I'm pretty sure my grandfather would come down from heaven and kick my butt.

That, you see, was one of his "commandments".  We learned it many Sundays in the spring and summer as he took us on hikes through the park woods across from his house.  While my grandmother and the rest of the family gathered around the TV or played cards, Grandpa took us on hikes in the woods.

The spring was my favorite time to go. I swear Grandpa knew the name of every wildflower we passed: 

Blood roots 

Dutchmen's Britches, 

Jack in the Pulpits, 

Sweet Williams 

I loved searching for them as we passed down the trails. We never picked them. We left them for others to enjoy. Although I remember the first time he showed us a Blood Root. He did pick it to show us how it got it's name.

Often times we took marshmallows and Grandpa would start a small campfire so we could roast them.  Always on long sticks that he carefully shaved the bark off with his ever present pocket knife. Those were the best marshmallows I have ever had.

And always we took a sack with us to carry our trash back with us... and any other trash we may find.

It was a lesson I learned well.