BFFs May 30, 2009

My best friend is here to visit from Chicago… with her absolutely adorable toddler daughter, too. 

I just like to marvel at the fact that we are very, very different people whose lives have taken pretty different paths.  We don’t get to talk all that often, and she’s not a big emailer.  We see each other maybe once per year.  And yet when we get together, there’s not a moment of awkward “What do we talk about?”  or “Does she care about that?”  We are able to pick up conversations just like in our high school days when we’d talk hundreds of times per day in person and by phone (pre-text days when people actually had to use their voice). 

She’s incredibly confident, a brilliant lawyer, beautiful, and kind-hearted.  And for the weekend, we get to be like goofy high school kids shopping together and talking relationships.  I’ll tease her about bringing at least 3 pairs of shoes for her 3-day trip and she’ll tease me about my Birkenstocks and Keens.  I’ll marvel as she actually speaks up about bad customer service, and she’ll laugh about my “Can’t you just write a letter or something?”

It’s a big deal for a geeky introvert like me to have to make a new friend.  I’m glad that I can be sure that my bff will always be there for me!

Memorial Day… on a personal level May 27, 2009

After reading some pretty moving personal accounts about Memorial Day, I really reflected on my relationship to the holiday.  Here’s some insight into my conflicted emotions…

On Memorial Day, I reflect on the loss of my own father.  He served in the Army in the Vietnam War.  No, he did not die during the war.  He passed away years later due to a blood clot to his lungs when I was 13 years old.  But in my adult years, I’ve wondered more and more about what was sacrificed in the service of our nation.

Jumping back a bit.  I was daddy’s little princess.  Seriously.  Like I could do no wrong, spoiled rotten.  And similarly, my father could do no wrong.  Even when really, in retrospect, there were issues.  An explosive temper.  Judgmental.  Racist comments.  I’m not making excuses, but really, he was largely a product of environment and circumstance.  Yes, we have the ability to change that, but he didn’t.  Maybe, I can hope, that he just ran out of time and years more would have opened his eyes… but that’s a digression.

The point is that even when he was angry, shouting, slamming his fist on his desk.  Or when he was crying and cursing, it was all okay, because it was daddy.

As I grew older, after dad’s death and in thinking about what I wanted out of relationships, I reflected on some of my dad’s behavior and wondered, why on earth did mom marry him?  But mom often said, “He wasn’t like that before the war.”  We’d probably call it post traumatic stress disorder now.  We didn’t then, because that wouldn’t have worked with his job.  He wouldn’t have had the job probably, and that wouldn’t work for the family.

My mom described dad of early marriage as charismatic and charming.  He had a way with words, a way with people.  And in good moments, that is precisely what I saw.  Intelligent, witty, passionate about history, going out of his way to make me and my friends feel special and wonderful. 

But then there were dark moments. 

Mom made the mistake of purchasing a Jane Fonda workout tape.  And I received my first history lesson about “Hanoi Jane.”  It ended with my dad, in tears, “and she just sat in that weapon, smiling and waving.  But people died.  So many people dying.” 

My dad also shared fun stories of comradery from his Vietnam days.  Sharing music with folks.  And antics in the barracks.  But then he’d see a POW-MIA bumper sticker, or a movie like “Platoon” would come out, or there would be mention of war protesters.  The tears.  The sobbing.  The anguished look.  The anger.  I never fully learned what horrors my father experienced over there, but there was no mistaking the scarring.

So Memorial Day for me isn’t simply about the loss of life, but also about the loss experienced by those who keep living through it.  What part of my dad did I never get to know because it was maimed or destroyed by the horrors he lived through?  What sacrifices do our soldiers make deep in the essence of their being?

I remember and honor those sacrifices, I wonder why, and I pray to see an end for the need to make those sacrifices.

In our hearts and memories… May 25, 2009

The official order and origin…

I. The 30th day of May, 1868, is designated for the purpose of strewing with flowers, or otherwise decorating the graves of comrades who died in defense of their country during the late rebellion, and whose bodies now lie in almost every city, village, and hamlet churchyard in the land. In this observance no form or ceremony is prescribed, but Posts and comrades will, in their own way, arrange such fitting services and testimonials of respect as circumstances may permit.

We are here to play, Comrades, as our regulations tell us, for the purpose among other things, “of preserving and strengthening those kind and fraternal feelings which have bound together the soldiers sailors and Marines, who united to suppress the late rebellion.” What can aid more to assure this result than by cherishing tenderly the memory of our heroic dead? We should guard their graves with sacred vigilance. All that the consecrated wealth and taste of the nation can add to their adornment and security, is but a fitting tribute to the memory of her slain defenders. Let pleasant paths invite the coming and going of reverent visitors and fond mourners. Let no neglect, no ravages of time, testify to the present or to the coming generations that we have forgotten as a people the cost of a free and undivided republic.

If other eyes grow dull and other hands slack, and other hearts cold in the solemn trust, ours shall keep it well as long as the light and warmth of life remain in us.

Let us, then, at the time appointed, gather around their sacred remains, and garland the passionless mounds above them with choicest flowers of springtime; let us raise above them the dear old flag they saved; let us in this solemn presence renew our pledge to aid and assist those whom they have left among us a sacred charge upon the Nation’s gratitude—the soldiers and sailors widow and orphan.

II. It is the purpose of the Commander in Chief to inaugurate this observance with the hope that it will be kept up from year to year, while a survivor of the war remains to honor the memory of his departed comrades. He earnestly desires the public press to call attention to this Order, and lend its friendly aid in bringing it to the notice of comrades in all parts of the country in time for simultaneous compliance therewith.

III. Department commanders will use every effort to make this Order effective.

—General Orders No. 11, Grand Army of the Republic Headquarters^[1].

___________

For those who laid down their lives in service of our nation, for those who are left behind, for future generations that we may have the strength to serve our nation, and for the hope that future challenges to our nation may be met and resolved with words and diplomacy and not bloodshed.

Though a pacifist, I do not let that lessen my respect for the courage and determination displayed by those who honorably served our country. 

My love-hate relationship with sunshine May 22, 2009

Particularly living in the Pacific Northwest, the sun is a much celebrated sight.  In fact, the concept of a ’sun break’ is a normal Pacific NW phenomenon and nobody would be too surprised to see meetings happening outside or classes reading out in the grass on a sunny day.

When the sun is out, I do feel a shift in my mood.  Brighter days bring brighter spirits.  And then, I prepare to go outside with my kiddoes.  Being of the pale, pasty, computer geek variety, we MUST slather on the sunscreen to avoid being cooked lobster red in minutes.  So we push up sleeves and pant legs, we rub on copious amounts of the stuff, and we head outside.  I appreciate the protection that sunscreen provides, but really, the experience of dirt and sweat mixed with sunscreen, or the sunscreen rubbed into the eyeball on accident, these are the images that make my quaint pictures of playing in the yard or a day at the beach shatter into myth. 

I know we have holes in our ozone layer and that years ago we didn’t have the life expectancy that we do, so other things would kill you off before skin cancer, but I’m nostalgic for some time when a day in the sun didn’t mean a bath in the SPF 55. 

On the other hand, if the SPF holds off sunburn and skin cancer, so be it.  Can you get that spot on the back of my neck?  Thanks.

Because all ed is special… May 18, 2009

Background info… I’ve started back to school for my master degree.  I’ve got this perpetual student thing.  I accumulated a surplus of credits from various institutions of higher learning before finally getting a bachelor degree in poli sci, having a child, getting my teaching certification through even more school, having another child, teaching for two years, and then staying home with my boys for three years.  So now I’m going for a master in education with my special education endorsement.

So I was talking to a high school friend today who asked me, Why special ed?  I wasn’t able to articulate it well, but I mulled over it for the rest of the afternoon.  Then while reading more of my current read http://www.amazon.com/Short-Bus-Journey-Beyond-Normal/dp/0805088040/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1225691815&sr=8-1, it clicked.

First of all, all education is special.  If we ever figure out how to get this school thing right, we are going to find a way to give every kid an “individualized education plan.”  We’re going to have “high standards” for every kid, but we aren’t going to standardize our students.  Our aim shouldn’t be to graduate kids who can and will excel at everything, because seriously, Leonardo da Vinci is probably a once or twice a millenium type phenomenon.  But we want our kids, all kids, to have a) the spirit and know how to dream, b) the will and confidence to dream big, and c) the opportunities, skills, and supports to pursue those dreams.  Yes, all of these dreams need to involve some basic things… because no matter what your dream is, you need certain skills to be able to pursue those dreams and to function as a member of society.  But we need to honor the differences in kids because if we look at the world around us, it’s not getting the appropriate test score or finishing college or whatever that gives us a rich and functioning community.  We take different pathways to success, and we need to honor these.

Faith, hope, and love… May 18, 2009

Back in my Catholic school girl choir days, we sang a song, “There are three things that last — faith, hope, and love, and the greatest gift is the gift of love.”  As I sit down trying to reflect on my experience at the American Cancer Society’s Northshore Relay for Life this weekend (www.northshorerelay.org), I don’t think I could post without speaking of the faith, the hope, and the love that were at the core of this event.

The event’s official slogan is Celebrate, Fight, Remember.  We celebrate those who are winning their battle against cancer.  We fight for research, a cure, better treatments that don’t harm as they attempt to heal.  And we remember and honor those who have lost their battles.  But to me, the heart of it is Faith, Hope, and Love.

Even the aetheist that I am, I can appreciate the role of faith when we talk about battling cancer.  Many find strength to battle, or to say goodbye, through their faith in a god, their faith in an afterlife, or their faith that all things happen for a higher purpose.  For some, like me, the faith may be in the strength of the human spirit, the strength of the relationships we build with one another that help us through trying times, the faith in science and the mind to help the body heal. 

A song lyric from Death Cab for Cutie’s “What Sarah Said” comes to mind, “And it came to me then that every plan is a tiny prayer to father time.”  Faith and hope intermingle.  Hope becomes that which nourishes us as a loved one battles cancer.  For my mother-in-law undergoing treatment right now, as she struggles to keep down calories and we can see her weight dropping, it sometimes seems like hope is the only thing feeding her right now… body and spirit.  The hope for another visit with her grandsons.  The hope for days of feeling healthy and strong again.  As we watch her battle, there is so little that we can do for her, especially from so many miles away, but we can lend her hope.

Speakers at the Relay summoned hope time and again.  Hope for a cure.  Hope for healing.  Hope for peace.  Hope for more time. 

And lastly, love.  At the end of the survivors’ lap that opens the Relay, loved ones presented medals to their survivors.  Tears and smiles and hugs were exchanged.  Mothers hugged children.  Children stretched up to parents.  Husbands and wives looked at each other with a light shining in their glance that spoke loudly, Love conquers all.  Love for one another, love of life, love of tomorrow and the possibilities it holds. 

As I walked my 4:30-6:00am walk shift, with frogs croaking in the woods nearby, the track lit by the half moon and the rows of luminaria and lanterns from campsites, I took time looking at each individual luminaria.  Each luminaria is someone’s story.  Each story speaks of love, of faith, of hope.

My words cannot begin to describe the inspirational feeling of being a part of such a moving event.  Not only were we able to raise over $118K for cancer research and patient services, but we were able to honor the strength of faith, hope, and love, the strength of the human spirit.

CEOs and CFOs from the PTA May 14, 2009

Seriously, this economic stuff is just cruddy.  The number of friends with layoffs, job hunts, pay cuts, and such.  The ‘trickledown’ effect of lower spending on sales tax and thus on school funding and school budgets.  It’s just yucky.

I have the solution!  PTA presidents and treasurers should be flown on private company jets to banks, financial institutions, and car manufacturers.  They should be given fresh baked goods and bottled water, just like a PTA meeting.  They should have complete control of decision making and budgeting for one year.  And for all this, they should get something a bit more than a potted plant and a $25 Starbucks card.

Seriously, what PTA’s manage to do is truly amazing.  Hats off!

My first book signing… May 13, 2009

…with my two sons.  Last week, I had the honor of attending a book signing with Rick Riordan, author of my beloved Percy Jackson series.  Not only was it special to hear from the man who wove Greek mythology into the modern world and crafted a hero with dyslexia and ADHD, but I was accompanied by my very own Eins and Zwei. 

Mind you, Eins is 8 and Zwei just turned 6.  Eins has read the books, but Zwei only knows our love of the stories.  They both had a full day of school, a Campfire scouts meeting, and a ride through traffic with road work.  We arrived at 6pm, looking for food and a ticket for the signing.  We purchased our books and were assigned the letter J… 50 folks per signing group, one group per letter.  We grabbed food and searched for a table at which to eat.  Of course, with that many people, there were no free tables.  Fortunately, a nice family took pity on my tray balancing and invited us to share their table since they were done eating.  We knelt around the table eating our teriyaki.

Mr. Riordan spoke for a bit about “The Lightning Thief” movie due out in February 2010 (yay!), about the origin of the Percy stories, and his future projects.  He took questions from the audience.  Then the signing began.  Eins, Zwei, and I walked around the mall where the bookstore was located.  We got some ice cream.  We bought Zwei a book to read.  We snuggled together on a bench, noses buried in books.  Around us, a sea of no, not monsters, but readers were similarly immersed.  The really cool thing though, this was a crowd that you’d imagine to see glassy-eyed in front of a video game, or hanging out with skateboards instead of poring over the pages of a book.

Eventually, it was time for our group.  We lined up at the time when Eins and Zwei are usually jammified and teethbrushing.  We edged closer, and as we approached, I watched the boys marvel at the author who warmly greeted each fan, answering questions, chatting, and thanking everyone.  I watched the nervous excitement and shyness as Eins slid his book forward.  I watched Zwei trace his fingers over the penned name carefully.  I wondered what Zwei’s experience will be when he goes to read these in a few years… will he remember this meeting?

And we drove home, around 9:10pm, with two signed copies of the 5th and final Percy Jackson book.  Eins announced he’d be bringing it in for sharing to class.  Zwei announced that he’d be writing a book someday because he wants to have a book signing, too.

Experimenting… May 11, 2009

Please bear with me.  I am trying to figure out how to be as cool as my other blogging counterparts.  Here’s my attempt at adding a visual.  This particular visual is one of my favorite drawings ever by my older son, Eins, when he was about 4 years old.  The face has sort of a Kermit-the-Dragon look or something that just cracks me up.

This is an old drawing from Eins.

Mother’s day is… May 11, 2009

…everyday.

I had Zwei, my youngest, start on the “I think next Sunday should be Kids’ Day, Mommy.”  Just as I did to my mother years ago.  And on the tip of my tongue, I was about to say, ” Everyday is Kids’ Day.”  But I managed to catch myself.

What makes it a mother’s day? Or a kid’s day?  Or father’s day?  Or grandparent’s day?  Or whatever?  Other than the greeting card and the floral and jewelry industries going YA-HOO!

Did I need a special gift to make today cool?  Nope, though I did use it as the official excuse for my cute little netbook computer.

Did I need a fancy meal cooked?  Nope, I ended up making pancakes like most days, and since hubby had to work, we grabbed exploded chicken for dinner.

Did I feel any more appreciated than usual?  Nope, and is that a problem?  Nope, because really, my hubby has taught my boys that we show our love and appreciation every day in a bunch of little ways. 

So how did I feel loved and appreciated lately?

- the laundry that my hubby washed and folded before he headed off to work ALL day on a Sunday

- the stack of pictures that Zwei is always drawing for me

- the fact that Eins still asks me to attend school events

- the support I get when I need to do homework for school

- Eins taking out the recycling without fuss

- unlimited hugs and kisses

- the way that we all pitch in for housework, and don’t ever make anyone feel bad if they are falling a little short one day

Every day is a day to love and celebrate each other!