Typical Tuesday

There was nothing spectacular about this day. Nothing special or memorable to rave about.  Yet, as I am about to go to bed, I realize I feel happy and content.  This was a good day.

I had a long chat with my friend Karen Green. If you know Karen, you're a lucky person. If you don't know her, trust me when I tell you she's amazing. She's an optimist. An inspiration. A hoot. A survivor. A fighter. And she's funny. I chuckled to myself the rest of the day after my visit with her. It's a blessing to have a friend who makes you laugh.

I had a long list of errands to do today. Do you enjoy crossing things off the list? I do. I'm feeling very satisfied that today's list is done and tomorrow's list seems doable.

Met with my book club and discussed a book I loved (And the Mountains Echoed). I missed my book buddies over the summer break and I was so happy to see them. The shrimp salad wrap at McGregor's was a delicious treat. What a great few hours!

Brenda, Ronnie, and I then went to the casino. No, I didn't win another $500, but who cares? We had fun. We played trivia. I drank a delicious frozen margarita.  Win win.

Since I've been retired, people frequently ask me what I do all day. When I try to answer that question, I'm usually stumped. I know I'm always busy and the days turn into weeks, turn into months, and turn into years.  But if I had to tell you exactly what I did with my time, I'd be at a loss for words . Just what do I do all day???   Well, I figured out the best answer to that question tonight - Whatever I want! 

I hope you had a good day today.  Here's hoping for a good tomorrow.

                                         Brenda, me, and Ronnie
                                              

Church???

It's Sunday, and once again I'm not in church.  In fact, I'm watching a cheesy movie called Return to Peyton Place.  I'm feeling guilty, but not quite sure what to do about that guilt.

I've written before about my experience with my church of thirty years.  It soured me on churches.  Not God, churches.  I've visited other churches, but none have called my name.  None have felt like home.  For a long while, I was attending the church across the street from my old church.  It's a beautiful building with a wonderful pastor, but I don't feel any connection to its community.  I visited the latest flavor in mega churches and while the pastor is motivating and the people kind, it wasn't for me either. 

What's a gal to do?  I don't think that attending church in order to have a tax write-off in January is a very good idea.  But right now, I can't think of any other reason to go.

Pretty sad, huh?

Why do you go to your church?  Habit? Tradition? Or are you truly motivated because each visit makes your faith stronger, your life better?

I'm lost. 

Downy Ocean, Hon

This year we moved our family vacation from Rehoboth to Ocean City.  We needed more space than a hotel "suite" could provide.  We kept the same week because it is probably the least crowded week of the year.  While all the Maryland and Delaware children are back at school, those of us who waited all summer are enjoying a sparser OC.  Good things come to those who wait!

Getting here was a dream come true.  There was barely any traffic.  The ride I expected could take us as long as four hours was accomplished in less than three. Getting the key from the real estate agent was easily done.  Moving into the condo was great as this place had tons of carts and lots of staff to keep the process orderly. Lots of staff.  And lots of rules.  And lots of staff to make sure you obey lots of rules.  I'm good with it.  The first night here, a fight started with a loud bunch of drinkers.  The staff broke it up immediately; I think they're all ex-marines. 

Anyhow, I was feeling very lucky that things were going so nicely.  And in beach tradition, it was confirmed that I am lucky.  First day on the beach a seagull plopped one big hunk of poop on my back. Everybody we've laughingly told the story to has said the same thing, That's really lucky.  I believe it.

Today was an amazing day.  Since I broke my leg five years ago, I have had issues with leg strength, bad knees, vertigo, going up and down steps, and my leg just collapsing on me.  I don't know if this stuff is related to the broken leg, but I've noticed these symptoms since then.  The summer I broke my leg, I, my sister, her daughters, and a friend of hers rented a condo at the beach. I couldn't go.  I was wheelchair bound and it was just too difficult to get me there.  I was bereft as they loaded up the car and drove to MY vacation. I didn't get to the beach once that year or the next year as I was still slowly recovering from my second broken leg.

When I did get back to annually visiting the beach, we'd stay at Rehoboth.  We had a great time, but something was missing for me.  I couldn't get in and out of the ocean without falling repeatedly.  It terrified me when I couldn't get up without assistance.  That was the end of my going into the Atlantic Ocean. It broke my heart.  My beach buddy Dottie and I no longer took those bi-weekly day trips to the ocean.  I resigned myself to spending the rest of my aquatic life in a pool.

But I was lucky.  Really lucky today.  All the conditions were right and I ventured into the sea.  No deep dips in the sand.  Long gaps of time between each smacking wave so I could avoid my knees being attacked and me falling over.  Before I knew it, I was bobbing on the waves. I was spitting out salt water.  My sister taught my nieces how to body surf and I was able to join them.  It was heaven.  And like I used to do when I was young, I stayed in the water for hours.  I am so thankful to have enjoyed this experience! I was convinced that I was never, ever getting back together with my mermaid self.  But today, I swam in the ocean. For me, this was a miracle.  Can you imagine the joy of doing something you love that you thought was forever lost to you?  To quote Cathy from The Big C , "Lucky me."

But, I even got luckier!  Dee and I visited the casino.  It was either that or just throw money off the balcony and into the fly-infested wind.  We figured the casino would be more fun.  I actually won $30!!  Me, a winner.  Imagine that.

It's supposed to rain on Wednesday.  Oh well.  As the saying goes, even a bad day at the beach is better than a good day at the office.  And how!

Call Me Maybe

A recent event had me examining my cell phone use and my lack of interest in investing in a super phone.  Seems like I am totally out of touch with the 21st century.  And you know what? I don't give a damn.

My brother and I were supposed to meet half way between his house and mine so that I could take my niece to my house for a few days.  I was at the fast food place on time, 5:00.  He wasn't there at 5:30, 6:00, 6:30, or 7:00.  Had he been late leaving the house?  Bad traffic? Accident? Lost? I was worried, but couldn't do much about it.  You see, my phone was dead.  I'd not used it the week I was on vacation, and it never occurred to me to charge it until I wanted to find out where the heck my brother was.  Finally, I figured I needed to get home and use my land line to make some calls.  It was a forty-five minute drive.  When I got to my house, all the lights were on.  My friend had let him and my niece into the house.  He was apoplectic with anger.   He was literally foaming at the mouth and screaming at me for not having my phone charged.  He told me I was stupid, crazy, had Alzheimer's, etc.  I told him to get out of my f-g house.  Seriously?  He was beyond livid because I didn't answer the phone??  Whatever happened to common sense?  Why didn't he turn around when he realized he'd missed the restaurant? Why didn't he ask for directions when he realized he'd missed our meeting point?  He knew I was there.  Wasn't he the "stupid" one to drive on stubbornly to my house knowing full well I would not be there?  The couple of people I spoke to about this seemed to be in agreement with him; well, why wasn't your phone charged????

Because I don't use it that much.  Because I don't have any desire to be tied to a phone. Because now that my parents are gone, there are very few reasons that I have to be reached immediately by anybody.  I disabled my texting feature years ago after getting spam porn texts that I had to pay for to figure out who was texting me.  Who needs that nonsense?

Though I don't intentionally want to offend anybody, I have to say that people with phones attached to their ears annoy the hell out of me. I don't care to hear your personal conversations while I'm buying my groceries.  And don't you dare admonish me to mind my own business when I roll my eyes at you for blocking the aisle while you've stopped to respond to something someone said to you over the phone.  If I am at the movies, I'm annoyed by the light of your phone and the one-sided conversation about your boyfriend gambling away his paycheck that you think you're so quietly having.  I want to get out of your car when you insist on driving and talking on the phone.  It's dangerous, and it is rude!  If we're having a conversation that is constantly interrupted by your cell phone, I may pretend that I don't care, but I don't like it. If we are at a meeting and your phone rings, do you really think it's polite to talk on your phone while someone is speaking to the group?  Or to tap out a text before asking someone else, what did she just say?  I saw a YouTube thing recently where a bride interrupted her wedding to answer the cell phone she had tucked into her cleavage.  Maybe it was a fake, but with the way people are about their phones anymore, it was hard to tell.

So, I guess I am totally out of touch with the telephone technology so many of you enjoy.  Frankly, I'm fine with it.  After this recent incident, I have vowed to myself to keep my phone charged.  We'll see how that goes.  Just remember, if I don't answer immediately, it's not the end of the world.  And if our land line phone call mysteriously gets disconnected while you're simulataneously conversing on your cell phone, it probably wasn't a mistake. 

Am I the only one who feels this way?  Is there anyone else in America not tied to their cells?  If you can relate to this blog, I'm glad to not be alone.  But please, don't call my cell to talk about it.  Odds are, I won't even be able to find it in the mess I call my purse before you've hung up in utter frustration.

Psychics

My sister has scheduled a psychic party (I don't know what else to call it) at her house in September.  A psychic, whom some of the women have already met, comes to the house and gives everybody a half hour reading for a set fee. I have wavered about attending.  At sixty, how much life do I have left for her to predict? And what if all there is to see in my future is more boring stuff?  Do I really want to pay money to confirm more of the same?

I used to have a fascination with psychics.  Some experiences confounded me, others just left me laughing.  Mostly, I consulted psychics when I was in the midst of a major life change or I thought I was in love.   Since I couldn't read the uncommunicative guy's mind, I figured I'd let the psychic do it.  In my many visits to psychics, some experiences still stand out.

The summer I finished my fifth year of college was a job hunting nightmare.  So, I asked my cousin Joan to help me get my astrological chart done by a woman she swore by.  The woman was adamant about my future job prospects.  She told me I would get the job I interviewed for on Thursday.  I told her I didn't have an interview for Thursday, but I had one for Monday.  She told me I'd also be offered that job, but I would take the Thursday job.  After my Monday interview, I was contacted by HCPS, and they set up my interview...for Thursday.  The rest, as you know, is history.  Before you get all goose pimply about this woman's talent, she also told me I would marry a dark foreigner and have one child.  That never happened.  Granted, there were some very nice dark foreigners in my life, but I had seen the movie and read the book, Not Without My Daughter, so I wasn't investing any time in those men.

I sought advice about the men in my life.  One in particular really had my heart.  The psychic told me that he deeply cared for me, but for reasons I would later understand, he would never, ever be mine. She was right.  Like a number of men I cared for, he too, eventually came out of the closet. Another psychic described a guy I was drawn to and warned me away from him.  He was not just a bad boy, he was dangerous.  Before it got really bad, I took her advice and safely squirmed out of that relationship.

Over the years, I have maintained a fascination with psychics.  I have read how they trick people into providing the information a psychic needs to give a reading.  I recently saw an expose on one of the news shows where the psychic gave everybody the same general reading that each attendee found to be personally mind-blowing.  I even went to a Sylvia Browne show; she is, by the way, a huge fraud.  But, I like and still put some credence in John Edwards.  I've read how psychics have been hired by police departments to solve murders, I taught a book about the sight to my middle schoolers (The Third Eye), and Medium was a not-to-miss television show for me.  So, there is still a part of me that wants to believe.

I'll go to the psychic party.  I hope she doesn't waste my thirty minutes by describing my personality or past adventures.  I already know that stuff.  I want to know what I've always wanted to know - Dear Miss Psychic:  Tell me the truth, is there a man in my future?  And is he straight?

Where the Boys Are

I was watching "Where the Boys Are," one of my favorite movies.  It is  a classic film that showcases the moral values of the generation in which I was raised.  Teenagers today don't know what they're missing.

Dressing up to go on a date.  Does anybody do that anymore?  Seems like kids just hook up, meet in groups, and then pair off as the mood hits them.  I used to like getting something new to wear, layering on the makeup, and even wearing pantyhose and heels. Preparing made the evening feel like a promise of something special.

Saying no.  Yep, girls could do that and still be popular and find love.  Guys expected it, and were ok with it.  What could be easier?  Kids today rush into sex before they even know each other's last names.  I get it that this is the 2000's and people should feel free of guilt to do what feels good. But there are so many unspoken strings tied to sex that kids don't actually face until the act is over.  There's nothing wrong with sharing minds and goals before sharing bodies.  Is there?

Innocent fun.  The cops rolled their eyes at the influx of kids and did what they could to keep them safe.  There were no riots, murders, drug/alcohol overdoses, gang rapes, girls gone wild videos, etc.  These kids were pulled into the police station because they jumped in a mermaid pool at a local restaurant.  Good clean fun.

I don't know.  Was life back then really so easy?  Do the movies glamorize a fifties that never really existed?  Life is hard for kids anymore, especially if we judge it by the movies that are made for them (gore, violence, and more gore).  Maybe we need a little more "Where the Boys Are."  I know that I enjoyed the escape this afternoon.  Now, time to watch my other favorite, "Dirty Dancing."  That too is a classic film that showcases the moral values of the generation in which I was raised.

Hmmm.....

Strong Women in Literature - My Heroes

Book recommendation time!  The following are some of my favorites.  They share a commonality;  the women are strong and the stories are real. 

The Diary of a Young Girl by Anne Frank

I'm sure you've heard of this book, even if you haven't read it.  Over the years, I've collected most versions published in the English language.  It is not a book to be avoided because the subject is the Holocaust. It is a book to be embraced because of the optimism Anne felt for the human race despite the oppression she and her family experienced at the hands of the Nazis.  I taught this book to my seventh graders for many years, and I was always amazed by their reactions to the story.  Many of the kids were surprised that Anne was so open about her love/hate relationship with her mother.  I remember reading it and thinking about how Anne's experience so echoed the difficult relationship I experienced with my mom.  My kids were uncomfortable with this strained relationship; I think because her words hit too close to home at times.  One year I was completely frustrated with a class who insisted Anne was a lesbian.  I wasn't about to get into a discussion about blooming teen sexuality; I remember telling them to stop watching afterschool talk shows and relating their salacious topics to great literature. Instead, I encouraged them to absorb the wealth of Anne's wisdom.  Here are a few gems for you:

“How wonderful it is that nobody need wait a single moment before starting to improve the world.”

“Look at how a single candle can both defy and define the darkness.”

“In spite of everything I still believe that people are really good at heart. I simply can't build up my hopes on a foundation consisting of confusion, misery and death.” 

So go ahead.  Pick up this book and read it. If you're lucky, it will change your life.  Anne Frank is my hero.

So Far From the Bamboo Grove   by Yoko Kawashima Watkins

This story takes place at the end of WWII when a Japanese family that has been stranded in Korea must return as refugees to Japan.  Their father has been imprisoned (some have claimed he was a war spy), the brother separated from the family, and the tiny frail mother must get her two daughters home.  Despite the harrowing journey and near death escapes they experienced, for me and my students the story really started when they settled.  They were poor, rejected by their country, and suffered in ways my students couldn't begin to imagine.  The harassment the girls faced as poor people in a private Japanese school and the determination they had to be educated despite the bullying, gave my students valuable insight into the importance of an education and how blessed they were to be receiving one. It's a wonderful and touching story.  The sequel, My Brother, My Sister and I , finished the story.  I love this book and the messages it sends: education is important, love one another, family loyalty, and peace on earth.  There's some controversy that this account is total fiction, without an ounce of truth.  Hmmph.  Some people also believe the Holocaust never happened.  Read it and decide for yourself.

On a side note, I heard the author speak at my school.  This tiny, soft-spoken woman kept an audience of antsy middle school students hypnotically engaged in her talk.  Some were near tears as she described the emotional torture experienced during her school years.  All wanted to read her book at the end of the talk.  I remember being required to send home permission slips so parents could consent to their child reading the book.  No one ever declined permission. (In fact, Adam T., your mom sent me the nicest note thanking me for introducing your class to this book.) At the end of reading the book, students in one of my classes each wrote a letter to the author.  She responded to every student with an individual, personal letter.  Yoko Kawashima Watkins is my hero.

Warriors Don't Cry by Melba Patillo Beals

I was first introduced to this book by a Black History Month edition of Read Magazine, a periodical used in our school to supplement the reading anthology.  I doubt the school orders the magazine anymore due to its contents not being test related and mandated budget cuts that eliminate all the good stuff.  But, there I go again, dragging out the soapbox. Anyhow, back to the topic.

This book examines the integration of Little Rock High School by one of the survivors from the group dubbed The Little Rock Nine.  It's an important book and an unforgettable story.  When I first read the excerpt, I was shocked that at my age and with my level of education I was woefully ignorant of the nitty-gritty of the Civil Rights Movement.  I had never heard of the Little Rock Nine.  I made it my mission to teach this book and/or share the moving excerpt every year with my students.  There is a lack of curriculum concerning the Civil Rights Movement in our educational system; there is so much more to this history than Martin Luther King or Rosa Parks.  Maybe if more Americans understood the complexities of the movement, our society would be in a better place today.  Anyhow, the soapbox is wobbly.  Back to the book.

Melba's description of the actual integration of the school is riveting, from the mothers' organization determined to stop them to the National Guard sent in to protect them.  The abuse these youngsters experienced once registered at the school made many of my students burst with emotion as to how/why they did all of that just to go to school. "Ms. S!  I'd be too afraid to do that!!!!"  Me too, kids, me too.  Melba Patillo Beals and The Little Rock Nine are my heroes.

All of these books have appeared on one or more lists of banned books for schools.  I'm glad that I read them, and I'm thankful that the admins at Havre de Grace Middle trusted me to teach them with diplomacy and compassion.

Now, I challenge you to meet my heroes in books you will never forget.  These are quick, compelling reads.  It's July.  There's still plenty of time to get in some quality summer reading.  Enjoy!