Wednesday, January 30, 2008
I'm sorry Michael (not really)
I wasn't gonna blog tonight because I'm really tired, BUT, I just had to say something about the KU-KSU basketball game. Mike, I hope you are swallowing this bitter pill gracefully -the KSU Wildcats beat the Jayhawks for the first time in how many years? 20 some years? Isn't that right Michael? And the pill is even more difficult to swallow because, oh let's see, isn't this KU's first loss this season? Mike? You there? (snort)
Saturday, January 26, 2008
Why I won't buy Charmin toilet paper
A quick blog note today. It's bright and sunny-a fine day weather-wise is in store. AND, I'm going to get to visit "the babies" today! (And the babies' parents too...I don't want them to feel left out.) My nephew and his wife-(would she be a 'niece in law'?) have an 18 month old daughter and an almost 2 week old son, whom I've not met yet, so the nephew's mom and I are traveling up to see them. Woo Hoo! It'll be fun. My house is a mess, my laundry needs doing, there's a million and three things I could do today, but playing with babies takes the priority this day.
I posted a Jeep Liberty commercial earlier on my blog, which brought about a little discussion on my uncle's blog concerning the plethora of commericals, and how annoying they are. Actually, I agree with that-most of them are awful-repetitive, intrusive, and just plain irritating. So it's a breath of fresh air when one comes along that's entertaining. Of course, what's entertaining to one is not to another, so there ya go. I will say, along this line, that recently, the most offensive commerical I've seen (which I don't think they are airing anymore, thank God) was a toilet paper commerical with the animated bears on it, so I think it was Charmin, touting the 'long lasting roll', and the music playing during this commerical was, (here comes the offensive part), Handel's "Hallelujah Chorus" from the famous oratorio, The Messiah. The first time I saw that commercial, I was (here comes my favorite word) aghast. The second time I saw the commerical, I muted it. And the third time I saw it, I changed TV stations. I resolved to never buy Charmin toilet paper while that commerical was on TV. And I still may never buy it, I'm still up in arms about using that music to promote toilet paper of all things. I wondered if that music is now public domain - it has to be. I don't know who in their right mind with an appreciation for that sacred work would give permission for it to be used in that way.
Well, it's off to visit "the babies". Hope your day goes well.
I posted a Jeep Liberty commercial earlier on my blog, which brought about a little discussion on my uncle's blog concerning the plethora of commericals, and how annoying they are. Actually, I agree with that-most of them are awful-repetitive, intrusive, and just plain irritating. So it's a breath of fresh air when one comes along that's entertaining. Of course, what's entertaining to one is not to another, so there ya go. I will say, along this line, that recently, the most offensive commerical I've seen (which I don't think they are airing anymore, thank God) was a toilet paper commerical with the animated bears on it, so I think it was Charmin, touting the 'long lasting roll', and the music playing during this commerical was, (here comes the offensive part), Handel's "Hallelujah Chorus" from the famous oratorio, The Messiah. The first time I saw that commercial, I was (here comes my favorite word) aghast. The second time I saw the commerical, I muted it. And the third time I saw it, I changed TV stations. I resolved to never buy Charmin toilet paper while that commerical was on TV. And I still may never buy it, I'm still up in arms about using that music to promote toilet paper of all things. I wondered if that music is now public domain - it has to be. I don't know who in their right mind with an appreciation for that sacred work would give permission for it to be used in that way.
Well, it's off to visit "the babies". Hope your day goes well.
Monday, January 21, 2008
A heartbreak
10:30, Monday night. There's a thin layer of ice out on the streets, and the temperature is bitterly cold. I'm thinking about getting out to go to work tomorrow-and hope I don't have to drive on streets that are untreated. I just hate driving on ice. The only good thing is that I drive an old car, so if I'm hit, I won't lose a lot financially.
So I haven't written about work in awhile. I do have some interesting cases this year, and one situation in particular has been most challenging. When I was going to WSU to get my degree, much discussion in classes had to do with nature vs nurture theories of development. There are smart people on both sides of the argument, and many straddling the line. I think about this as I work with a young student at one of my schools. "Robbie" (not his real name) is growing up in a far from ideal environment, and there is much that needs to happen in Robbie's homelife in order to bring it up to a minimal standard of what is good for children. However, I've been acquainted with many children who do not live in good environments, and in all my years of working with children and families, he is one of the most ill-adjusted children I've ever had the privilege of knowing. If you were to see him, you might assume that he was truly a "wild child", reared in the jungle by wolves. He is aggressive and angry - striking out at other students and teachers. He does not use words to express himself, but screams and swears. Robbie's caretaker is detached from him, and is in denial regarding Robbie's difficulties. Although Robbie's environment has truly contributed to his problems, I also believe that he has some sort mental malfunction-I think there is an organic cause to much of this problem.
I told someone that when you look into his eyes, you don't see a little boy looking back at you. You see something or someone else. It IS our responsibility to educate him-but the sad truth is, before we teach him colors, numbers, and shapes, we have to teach him to use the toilet, to communicate with words instead of kicks, bites, slaps, and punches, and to follow those norms of school like standing in line, waiting his turn, and following the leader. We even are working with him to eat his snack like a person instead of like a dog. The big picture is that this little boy is not just the school's problem, he is society's problem, and all of us are affected. The awful truth is, school is the best thing he's got going for him but we aren't miracle workers. I suspect that unless he has intensive interventions immediately, in addition to what we can do for him at school, he will not ever contribute positively in society. Our local child welfare agency has been notified but as of last week, they saw no reason to intervene. In the future, the rest of the story will unfold, but not without pain and heartbreak on every side. I'll keep you posted on his progress.
So I haven't written about work in awhile. I do have some interesting cases this year, and one situation in particular has been most challenging. When I was going to WSU to get my degree, much discussion in classes had to do with nature vs nurture theories of development. There are smart people on both sides of the argument, and many straddling the line. I think about this as I work with a young student at one of my schools. "Robbie" (not his real name) is growing up in a far from ideal environment, and there is much that needs to happen in Robbie's homelife in order to bring it up to a minimal standard of what is good for children. However, I've been acquainted with many children who do not live in good environments, and in all my years of working with children and families, he is one of the most ill-adjusted children I've ever had the privilege of knowing. If you were to see him, you might assume that he was truly a "wild child", reared in the jungle by wolves. He is aggressive and angry - striking out at other students and teachers. He does not use words to express himself, but screams and swears. Robbie's caretaker is detached from him, and is in denial regarding Robbie's difficulties. Although Robbie's environment has truly contributed to his problems, I also believe that he has some sort mental malfunction-I think there is an organic cause to much of this problem.
I told someone that when you look into his eyes, you don't see a little boy looking back at you. You see something or someone else. It IS our responsibility to educate him-but the sad truth is, before we teach him colors, numbers, and shapes, we have to teach him to use the toilet, to communicate with words instead of kicks, bites, slaps, and punches, and to follow those norms of school like standing in line, waiting his turn, and following the leader. We even are working with him to eat his snack like a person instead of like a dog. The big picture is that this little boy is not just the school's problem, he is society's problem, and all of us are affected. The awful truth is, school is the best thing he's got going for him but we aren't miracle workers. I suspect that unless he has intensive interventions immediately, in addition to what we can do for him at school, he will not ever contribute positively in society. Our local child welfare agency has been notified but as of last week, they saw no reason to intervene. In the future, the rest of the story will unfold, but not without pain and heartbreak on every side. I'll keep you posted on his progress.
Sunday, January 13, 2008
Enjoy!
I LOVE this commercial! I do not own, nor do I intend to buy a Jeep Liberty but...I...I...I have no excuse, it just makes me laugh!
Trivial and not so trivial
Oh my. January 5 was last-Saturday. I'm still alive, still here, but apparently, I've been WAY too busy to post anything. Of course I haven't, and I've been thinking about it, but you know-when there's nothing to say, there's nothing to say.
It was sort of an eventful week, but all trivial stuff, except for one exciting moment when Gabriel John made his appearance on January 7-that's my mother's birthday. I'm no genealogist, that would be my sister's job, but I believe Gabriel would be my great nephew. I'm no great aunt, I'll just be happy if he recognizes me once in awhile after he gets older.
I was glad to make connection with Jay this week and to hear that his new job is going well. My dryer died last Saturday, and so this past Thursday, he and Kevin came over and helped the Husband install a new dryer vent in preparation for the new dryer, which was delivered yesterday. (I made them dinner in payment. That kind of bill I can handle.) We're down a vehicle, as my oldest son's truck is in the shop beginning the second week tomorrow and he has borrowed our pickup that our youngest son usually drives. Oldest son works more than full time out of town, youngest son works part time at WSU, so guess who has a worse need for a car. Last week, elaborate plans had to be made about getting youngest son to work-who would take him, who would pick him up, all complicated by my daughter's dental surgery which had to be attended by someone as she was having general anesthesia. We used our "safety net" - we had family we could call upon to help us during this time while we were being a safety net for our kids who needed us to help them.
Many of the families I work with at the one school I'm assigned to have no safety nets. They've either been burned or used up. With no car, no money, no family to help-how do you get to work at your minimum wage job when you have no transportation, or get home repairs completed if you have no one to help? I'm very grateful for that strength in my life.
It was sort of an eventful week, but all trivial stuff, except for one exciting moment when Gabriel John made his appearance on January 7-that's my mother's birthday. I'm no genealogist, that would be my sister's job, but I believe Gabriel would be my great nephew. I'm no great aunt, I'll just be happy if he recognizes me once in awhile after he gets older.
I was glad to make connection with Jay this week and to hear that his new job is going well. My dryer died last Saturday, and so this past Thursday, he and Kevin came over and helped the Husband install a new dryer vent in preparation for the new dryer, which was delivered yesterday. (I made them dinner in payment. That kind of bill I can handle.) We're down a vehicle, as my oldest son's truck is in the shop beginning the second week tomorrow and he has borrowed our pickup that our youngest son usually drives. Oldest son works more than full time out of town, youngest son works part time at WSU, so guess who has a worse need for a car. Last week, elaborate plans had to be made about getting youngest son to work-who would take him, who would pick him up, all complicated by my daughter's dental surgery which had to be attended by someone as she was having general anesthesia. We used our "safety net" - we had family we could call upon to help us during this time while we were being a safety net for our kids who needed us to help them.
Many of the families I work with at the one school I'm assigned to have no safety nets. They've either been burned or used up. With no car, no money, no family to help-how do you get to work at your minimum wage job when you have no transportation, or get home repairs completed if you have no one to help? I'm very grateful for that strength in my life.
Saturday, January 05, 2008
Phew!
It's a beautiful day-I'm so glad to see the sun! The warmer weather is a blessing, and it's nice to not get blown away in the wind either.
My son is back from his trip over the break to visit a friend in Wisconsin, so once again my home is filled with big feet tromping up and down the stairs, music flowing from his upstairs sanctuary, different flavored coffees in the coffee pot and various cups sitting on the counter waiting to be rinsed out, and the sound of his keyboard as he practices those finger exercises. It was different not having him home, but something I think I could get used to...
In reviewing my sister's blog, her latest post had to do with the election-that sometimes we may tend to vote for a candidate who will do the least damage - vote for the "least of the worst", as it were.
I got to thinking about that, and, I feel like wading into "dangerous" territory, so here we go. Generally speaking, it seems that of the more conservative folk I know, there is usually a, oh, I don't know what to call it, perhaps it can be described as a "yuck factor" which is applied to selecting candidates-as if the political process we have in this country is something akin to stepping into a fresh cow pile in a pasture-yuck! And, we vote for the person we perceive has the least amount of "pile" clinging to his (or her) cowboy boots-the person who will track the least amount of offensiveness into our lives.
One hypothesis for the yuck factor is that most conservatives like the least amount of government intrusion possible-the less government running our lives the better. But I think another factor is that religiously conservative people do not view any mere human to be the "salvation" of this country-and alongside of and supporting that viewpoint, is the notion that things will ultimately get worse in the future. And because things will get worse in the future, all of the candidates running for office are poor choices-it's just that some candidates will make things worse faster than others. If you believe that the future is bleak, and that overall, society is declining on a downhill slope to hell, then you most likely will not be able to hope that any candidate will make positive changes, and, you will be employing the yuck factor in your candidate selection, IF you care to select a candidate at all.
The spouse in my house is a disgruntled conservative. "There's nobody that's NOT waffling! There's no leadership! There's no 'political statesman' who will stand for the values of the GOP!" As you can tell, he's a person who doesn't compromise. He's gonna be examining boots for pasture mud. And holding his nose in the ballot booth.
My son is back from his trip over the break to visit a friend in Wisconsin, so once again my home is filled with big feet tromping up and down the stairs, music flowing from his upstairs sanctuary, different flavored coffees in the coffee pot and various cups sitting on the counter waiting to be rinsed out, and the sound of his keyboard as he practices those finger exercises. It was different not having him home, but something I think I could get used to...
In reviewing my sister's blog, her latest post had to do with the election-that sometimes we may tend to vote for a candidate who will do the least damage - vote for the "least of the worst", as it were.
I got to thinking about that, and, I feel like wading into "dangerous" territory, so here we go. Generally speaking, it seems that of the more conservative folk I know, there is usually a, oh, I don't know what to call it, perhaps it can be described as a "yuck factor" which is applied to selecting candidates-as if the political process we have in this country is something akin to stepping into a fresh cow pile in a pasture-yuck! And, we vote for the person we perceive has the least amount of "pile" clinging to his (or her) cowboy boots-the person who will track the least amount of offensiveness into our lives.
One hypothesis for the yuck factor is that most conservatives like the least amount of government intrusion possible-the less government running our lives the better. But I think another factor is that religiously conservative people do not view any mere human to be the "salvation" of this country-and alongside of and supporting that viewpoint, is the notion that things will ultimately get worse in the future. And because things will get worse in the future, all of the candidates running for office are poor choices-it's just that some candidates will make things worse faster than others. If you believe that the future is bleak, and that overall, society is declining on a downhill slope to hell, then you most likely will not be able to hope that any candidate will make positive changes, and, you will be employing the yuck factor in your candidate selection, IF you care to select a candidate at all.
The spouse in my house is a disgruntled conservative. "There's nobody that's NOT waffling! There's no leadership! There's no 'political statesman' who will stand for the values of the GOP!" As you can tell, he's a person who doesn't compromise. He's gonna be examining boots for pasture mud. And holding his nose in the ballot booth.
Thursday, January 03, 2008
January 3. Back to work and it's 2008. The years certainly fly by - can it be 8 years ago that we had the big Y 2K scare? Sometimes I really don't like thinking about this - the future can be a scary thing to consider. But the older I get, the more I really understand the temporal nature of things in this life. The definition of temporal is: enduring for a time only; temporary; transitory (opposed to eternal) (www.dictionary.com). There comes a time in your life that you leave things to your children's generation, just as your parents left things to you, and their parents left it to them.
It's a new year, and so it's also the time some of us think about renewing our commitments to those things in life which are important. Have you decided to make any changes? Do you feel you're growing? Comments?
It's a new year, and so it's also the time some of us think about renewing our commitments to those things in life which are important. Have you decided to make any changes? Do you feel you're growing? Comments?
Friday, December 28, 2007
I'm aghast (again)
It's been sort of an odd last couple of days. My youngest has been out of state on a trip, so it's just the old man and I at home. I'm off work for Christmas break, and he is taking off from today until Jan 2. We are not empty nesters quite yet, so it's a new experience. Last night we ate our supper at the table, just the two of us (I gotta get used to cooking for only two) and I thought, this is how it was 32 years ago when we got married. Only we're a lot older. And grayer. And hopefully wiser.
On a different tangent, have you mailed any packages recently? I put together a box to go to my sister in Michigan. It had two very lightweight things in it, plus 3 paperback books. It couldn't have weighed more than 2-3 pounds. (I lost my mailing receipt, so I can't tell you exactly what it weighed.) I took it to Love Box as they offer a plethora of shipping methods to choose from, and the man, after packing it up, says:
Shipping Man: "That'll be 17.60".
Me: (Not sure I heard right) "7.60?"
Shipping Man: (louder) "17.60!"
Me: "What? I'm AGHAST! I'm not paying that to send this box!"
Shipping Man: "Well, that's UPS. Fed Ex is the same price."
Me: (Speechless)
Shipping Man: "You know, I haven't heard the word "aghast" in a long time."
Me: "You should hear it every day with these prices."
Shipping Man: "So whaddya want to do?"
Me: "Ya got anything going by horse and buggy?"
Shipping Man: (not amused) "Parcel Post. That'll cost ya $13.23".
Me: "Is that with delivery sometime next year, no guarantees?"
Shipping Man: "Yes. Delivery 10-14 days, BUSINESS days, (if then), no tracking, no insurance available."
Me: "Sigh".
So the package went Parcel Post. Linda, I don't know when you'll get it, or even IF you'll get it. I had no clue that it cost so much to mail boxes these days. Next time, I'll check out DHL. They drive those bright yellow delivery vans you see everywhere-maybe they are more reasonable.
On a different tangent, have you mailed any packages recently? I put together a box to go to my sister in Michigan. It had two very lightweight things in it, plus 3 paperback books. It couldn't have weighed more than 2-3 pounds. (I lost my mailing receipt, so I can't tell you exactly what it weighed.) I took it to Love Box as they offer a plethora of shipping methods to choose from, and the man, after packing it up, says:
Shipping Man: "That'll be 17.60".
Me: (Not sure I heard right) "7.60?"
Shipping Man: (louder) "17.60!"
Me: "What? I'm AGHAST! I'm not paying that to send this box!"
Shipping Man: "Well, that's UPS. Fed Ex is the same price."
Me: (Speechless)
Shipping Man: "You know, I haven't heard the word "aghast" in a long time."
Me: "You should hear it every day with these prices."
Shipping Man: "So whaddya want to do?"
Me: "Ya got anything going by horse and buggy?"
Shipping Man: (not amused) "Parcel Post. That'll cost ya $13.23".
Me: "Is that with delivery sometime next year, no guarantees?"
Shipping Man: "Yes. Delivery 10-14 days, BUSINESS days, (if then), no tracking, no insurance available."
Me: "Sigh".
So the package went Parcel Post. Linda, I don't know when you'll get it, or even IF you'll get it. I had no clue that it cost so much to mail boxes these days. Next time, I'll check out DHL. They drive those bright yellow delivery vans you see everywhere-maybe they are more reasonable.
Saturday, December 22, 2007
Celebrating Christmas
Today is Saturday about 2:45 in the afternoon. It is near white-out conditions as the wind continues to howl and the snow continues to blow. Driving around the city is near impossible (as KFDI is reporting.) We have already cancelled church for tomorrow.
Now my thoughts turn toward my husband, getting off work at 5:00, my son-in-law, ending his shift at 3:00, and my son getting off work at 6:00 tonight. I hope everyone makes it home okay. My son called, and asked me to reserve a bed at our "hotel" in case he decides to come home instead of going to his apartment several miles down the road.
I truly have not seen blowing snow like this for several winters that I can remember. Those in western Kansas have drifting and blowing every winter, and have learned to tolerate it, but it's just not that common here in Wichita.
You know what-this would be a good day to write a letter. If you read my post a few days ago, you know that I've decided to try to write to a friend, since her computer lost the hard drive and we are not able to communicate via the information superhighway. And, yesterday, a nice letter from my elderly uncle I wrote about arrived. He apologized in the first paragraph, saying, "I have not forotten you, but I just don't take time to write. Now may be a good time even if nothing great to write about." How nice to hear from him! I may write him a real letter as well.
You know, I haven't written much about Christmas. I don't really know why. I do think about it, but I really try to not get involved in the frenzy that accompanies this holiday. If you were to come to my house, you'd wonder if we even celebrate Christmas. We have no tree, no lights, no decorations, and no packages. We DO have Christmas music on, either from the radio or from the Christmas CDs I have, but that's about it.
I did buy one present, that for my son-in-law, whose name I was assigned in our annual name drawing.
We do celebrate Christmas Eve with a traditional family candle lighting, which beautifully tells the Christmas story. Last year, we did this at the children's home my brother and sister-in-law were working at. This year, it will be just our family, gathered around our table in our small front room.
Here's a thought: Did Jesus command us to celebrate his birthday? Is there anything in Scripture that would suggest we participate in such a celebration? I'm open for comments about this...what do you think?
Now my thoughts turn toward my husband, getting off work at 5:00, my son-in-law, ending his shift at 3:00, and my son getting off work at 6:00 tonight. I hope everyone makes it home okay. My son called, and asked me to reserve a bed at our "hotel" in case he decides to come home instead of going to his apartment several miles down the road.
I truly have not seen blowing snow like this for several winters that I can remember. Those in western Kansas have drifting and blowing every winter, and have learned to tolerate it, but it's just not that common here in Wichita.
You know what-this would be a good day to write a letter. If you read my post a few days ago, you know that I've decided to try to write to a friend, since her computer lost the hard drive and we are not able to communicate via the information superhighway. And, yesterday, a nice letter from my elderly uncle I wrote about arrived. He apologized in the first paragraph, saying, "I have not forotten you, but I just don't take time to write. Now may be a good time even if nothing great to write about." How nice to hear from him! I may write him a real letter as well.
You know, I haven't written much about Christmas. I don't really know why. I do think about it, but I really try to not get involved in the frenzy that accompanies this holiday. If you were to come to my house, you'd wonder if we even celebrate Christmas. We have no tree, no lights, no decorations, and no packages. We DO have Christmas music on, either from the radio or from the Christmas CDs I have, but that's about it.
I did buy one present, that for my son-in-law, whose name I was assigned in our annual name drawing.
We do celebrate Christmas Eve with a traditional family candle lighting, which beautifully tells the Christmas story. Last year, we did this at the children's home my brother and sister-in-law were working at. This year, it will be just our family, gathered around our table in our small front room.
Here's a thought: Did Jesus command us to celebrate his birthday? Is there anything in Scripture that would suggest we participate in such a celebration? I'm open for comments about this...what do you think?
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
Wednesday
Just a short note here-my brother wrote in his blog that there must be something wrong because he's gone a week now without posting-well! I bet I can do that. He is a regular poster, and much more faithful than I am.
We're on the downhill slide to winter break. Today, tomorrow and Friday, then I'm "vacationing" for a week or so.
Congratulations to my youngest, who graduated from WSU on Sunday with a degree in accounting. Now he gets to find a job - from what I hear, it shouldn't be too difficult, but we'll see. He's working part time at the university, but needs a full time position in order to eventually move outta my house. He's also a pretty good musician, and I think would like to devote some attention to that interest as well. I don't care, as long as he makes enough money to support me when I'm in the Baptist old people's home. Which could be any day now.
It's supposed to be 50 degrees today, so all the snow should finish melting. I realized the other day that I didn't get the cannas out of the ground before the first hard freeze, so-there they go. I doubt that they will survive the winter. I was seriously neglectful of the fall yard work. The tomato plants never did get pulled up, and other work should have been done, but wasn't. It'll be waiting for me the first warmer days of spring.
Well, I'll write more in a couple of days. Take care, and here's your joke of the week: What do you call a cranky man that lives in the woods? Here it comes - "Forest Grump".
We're on the downhill slide to winter break. Today, tomorrow and Friday, then I'm "vacationing" for a week or so.
Congratulations to my youngest, who graduated from WSU on Sunday with a degree in accounting. Now he gets to find a job - from what I hear, it shouldn't be too difficult, but we'll see. He's working part time at the university, but needs a full time position in order to eventually move outta my house. He's also a pretty good musician, and I think would like to devote some attention to that interest as well. I don't care, as long as he makes enough money to support me when I'm in the Baptist old people's home. Which could be any day now.
It's supposed to be 50 degrees today, so all the snow should finish melting. I realized the other day that I didn't get the cannas out of the ground before the first hard freeze, so-there they go. I doubt that they will survive the winter. I was seriously neglectful of the fall yard work. The tomato plants never did get pulled up, and other work should have been done, but wasn't. It'll be waiting for me the first warmer days of spring.
Well, I'll write more in a couple of days. Take care, and here's your joke of the week: What do you call a cranky man that lives in the woods? Here it comes - "Forest Grump".
Thursday, December 13, 2007
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
The sad state of mail
I received a Christmas card from a friend, with a real hand written letter inside. This friend has been in my life for many years now, let's see, I first met her in January of 1976 - that's been more than 30 years! On and off throughout our lives, we've kept in touch and way back many years ago, we used to write letters fairly often. Although we have what some might consider to be a significant age discrepancy (17 years), and our lives have taken very divergent paths, somehow we have managed to maintain an interesting relationship. We've never lived near one another except for that very first year almost 32 years ago.
Anyhow, a couple of years ago, after several years of not having any communication with her, I found her son's email address online (he's a staff member at a church in a neighboring state) and emailed him to see how she was. He contacted her, and she immediately emailed me back. Off we were again, communicating by email and now some phone calls since we both have the same cell phone plan.
However, in the letter she included with her Christmas card, she mentioned that her hard drive had crashed several months ago (I had known that, and had been waiting for her to contact me again when she might have it fixed.) But it was her last statement that caused me to pause in my tracks: "Hope you have a meaningful Christmas and New Years and I don't know when you'll hear from me next. Take care." Hmmm. I was thinking about this and mentioned to my youngest son-you know, people don't write letters anymore. My mother was a letter writer-she regularly wrote to all us kids after we moved away from home, and to her siblings who lived many miles away. When I was in college, I practically LIVED by my little post office box. Many days I received letters from home, either from mom, or, from the boyfriend I was dating at the time. For years my siblings and I wrote in a "round letter", a fat envelope that went from house to house with everyone's contributions in it. I can remember the highlight of my day, even 20 years ago, was getting a letter in the mail. But now, oh my. There are not very many letters in my mail. Every once in awhile, I will get a letter from my elderly uncle, who lives in a town not too far from here. He still writes to his far-away and near relatives. But this past year, 2007, I cannot remember anyone besides him sending me a letter, and it's getting to the point I don't hear from him by letter maybe 2 or 3 times a year.
Does anyone besides me think that there's just something precious that we've lost in our culture when the mail you get includes nothing but advertisements and bills? And that when we have no computer, we have no way to communicate? I'm thinking I'm going to write her back. Perhaps we'll be the only two people in the USA who still send letters, but there's just something about writing down your thoughts. I'm not talking about typing letters, I'm talking about real writing. Like with pen and paper. Does anyone remember how to do that anymore?
Anyhow, a couple of years ago, after several years of not having any communication with her, I found her son's email address online (he's a staff member at a church in a neighboring state) and emailed him to see how she was. He contacted her, and she immediately emailed me back. Off we were again, communicating by email and now some phone calls since we both have the same cell phone plan.
However, in the letter she included with her Christmas card, she mentioned that her hard drive had crashed several months ago (I had known that, and had been waiting for her to contact me again when she might have it fixed.) But it was her last statement that caused me to pause in my tracks: "Hope you have a meaningful Christmas and New Years and I don't know when you'll hear from me next. Take care." Hmmm. I was thinking about this and mentioned to my youngest son-you know, people don't write letters anymore. My mother was a letter writer-she regularly wrote to all us kids after we moved away from home, and to her siblings who lived many miles away. When I was in college, I practically LIVED by my little post office box. Many days I received letters from home, either from mom, or, from the boyfriend I was dating at the time. For years my siblings and I wrote in a "round letter", a fat envelope that went from house to house with everyone's contributions in it. I can remember the highlight of my day, even 20 years ago, was getting a letter in the mail. But now, oh my. There are not very many letters in my mail. Every once in awhile, I will get a letter from my elderly uncle, who lives in a town not too far from here. He still writes to his far-away and near relatives. But this past year, 2007, I cannot remember anyone besides him sending me a letter, and it's getting to the point I don't hear from him by letter maybe 2 or 3 times a year.
Does anyone besides me think that there's just something precious that we've lost in our culture when the mail you get includes nothing but advertisements and bills? And that when we have no computer, we have no way to communicate? I'm thinking I'm going to write her back. Perhaps we'll be the only two people in the USA who still send letters, but there's just something about writing down your thoughts. I'm not talking about typing letters, I'm talking about real writing. Like with pen and paper. Does anyone remember how to do that anymore?
Saturday, December 08, 2007
A moral dilemma, or is it?
It's been awhile since I've written. Every day I think about it, and every day I get distracted or something. It's cold, wet, windy, and sorta miserable here. Some ice is forecast for this evening and through tomorrow. I hate driving on ice. My car is rear wheel drive and we were in a few precarious spots last winter on city streets.
So, did you read about the gas station in Minocqua, Wisconsin? An employee accidently changed the price to 32.9 cents a gallon instead of $3.29 cents a gallon. Uh oh. That's a little bit of a difference. When word spread about the cheap gas, dozens of people flooded the station to fill up. It says: "Word of the bargain spread fast in the rural northern Wisconsin community, with 42 people buying 586 gallons of gas in an hour and 45 minutes." When local police got wind, they called the store manager, who came down and threw the emergency stop on all the pumps. What caught my eye was her statement: "I was very upset that there's that many dishonest people," she said. "They knew there was a problem, and they took advantage of an employee's mistake and I think that's terrible."
So what do you think? Would you have gone down to that station and helped yourself to cheap gas because of a store employee's mistake? Personally, I agree with the store manager. It WAS dishonest for people to do that. I can just hear it now, "...the big oil companies won't miss it...", "...it wasn't MY fault...", "...if you can save a buck or two, why not...", yadda yadda. There IS a standard of decency, even when you deal with "big oil companies". I'm not responsible for what they do, I'm just responsible for my own decisions. And that includes conducting business with integrity.
Let's hear what you think.
So, did you read about the gas station in Minocqua, Wisconsin? An employee accidently changed the price to 32.9 cents a gallon instead of $3.29 cents a gallon. Uh oh. That's a little bit of a difference. When word spread about the cheap gas, dozens of people flooded the station to fill up. It says: "Word of the bargain spread fast in the rural northern Wisconsin community, with 42 people buying 586 gallons of gas in an hour and 45 minutes." When local police got wind, they called the store manager, who came down and threw the emergency stop on all the pumps. What caught my eye was her statement: "I was very upset that there's that many dishonest people," she said. "They knew there was a problem, and they took advantage of an employee's mistake and I think that's terrible."
So what do you think? Would you have gone down to that station and helped yourself to cheap gas because of a store employee's mistake? Personally, I agree with the store manager. It WAS dishonest for people to do that. I can just hear it now, "...the big oil companies won't miss it...", "...it wasn't MY fault...", "...if you can save a buck or two, why not...", yadda yadda. There IS a standard of decency, even when you deal with "big oil companies". I'm not responsible for what they do, I'm just responsible for my own decisions. And that includes conducting business with integrity.
Let's hear what you think.
Saturday, December 01, 2007
Can't we do life without numbing ourselves?
Here it is, Saturday morning - and I woke up at 5:32 am. That's right, 5:32. I laid in bed wide awake for almost an hour, then decided to get up. What else is there to do besides write in your blog? I dunno. I hate when this happens. Why can't I wake up at 5:32 on a work day and feel like this? Monday through Friday the alarm goes off at 6:15 and I have to almost literally drag myself out of the bed. I'm sure I will pay the price later for my early rising as I've got a busy schedule today. I've got some errands to run, some cleaning to do, and a "holiday crafts" party to attend. If you know me, you know I'm not a "crafty" person, but this annual get together at our church, I sort of enjoy. I was also invited to a Silpada Jewelry party this morning also, but also if you know me, you know I'm not a jewelry person. I'll let that one go by me, even though one of the selling points in attending this party was stated by the hostess as such: "We're going to be having Mimosas!"
Speaking of parties, and because I'm a member of two schools' families, plans for multiple Christmas parties are being made. I got one invitation which said, "Wine and beer provided. You can BYOB. If you drink, be sure you bring a designated driver." Yeah, count me in. I think I'll celebrate the Savior's birthday by getting blasted along with people I work with on a daily basis. Why is consuming alcohol to excess at any function such a big part of our culture? Do we need that in order to feel like we're having a good time? Weddings, showers, home sales parties, ball games, Christmas, Memorial Day, Labor Day - oh, and let's not forget the end of the school year parties which occur in May during which school staff get together and drink - could somebody explain how this activity has become so engrained in our culture that if you decline to participate, you are viewed as odd or weird? I don't mind an occasional glass of wine (very occasionally, as I am diabetic), but good grief. People who deliberately drink until they are falling down stupid need to get a grip. And stay off the road.
Speaking of parties, and because I'm a member of two schools' families, plans for multiple Christmas parties are being made. I got one invitation which said, "Wine and beer provided. You can BYOB. If you drink, be sure you bring a designated driver." Yeah, count me in. I think I'll celebrate the Savior's birthday by getting blasted along with people I work with on a daily basis. Why is consuming alcohol to excess at any function such a big part of our culture? Do we need that in order to feel like we're having a good time? Weddings, showers, home sales parties, ball games, Christmas, Memorial Day, Labor Day - oh, and let's not forget the end of the school year parties which occur in May during which school staff get together and drink - could somebody explain how this activity has become so engrained in our culture that if you decline to participate, you are viewed as odd or weird? I don't mind an occasional glass of wine (very occasionally, as I am diabetic), but good grief. People who deliberately drink until they are falling down stupid need to get a grip. And stay off the road.
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Peanut butter sandwiches and the future
I've had a fairly good week. Lots of interaction with kids, and lots of talking with other adults about interaction with kids. I sometimes wonder if attention-starved kids act out because, you know, you can get a pretty good number of adults stirred up quickly if you say and do the "right" things. But, on the other hand, we've got a little 7 year old guy at one school who right now, has several adult professionals discussing his situation every single day. "Nick" looks at me with those beautiful green eyes and grins...when he's feeling pretty good about things, he does alright. But his homelife is a disaster-he confided in me yesterday that he often times has to make his own supper consisting of a peanut butter sandwich, because the person he lives with doesn't bother to cook. He gets dropped off in the morning between 6:45 and 7:00am, for latchkey, so he eats breakfast and lunch at school. I would imagine that he fends for himself quite a bit in the evenings and on weekends. Nick has no mom or dad around - he lives with a relative, who has stated- "I really don't care where he lives, I guess I'll take care of him because no one else wants him." Nick often explodes in anger at school. He kicks walls, throws things, and a lot of time loses control of his emotions. He spends time in the principal's office and in the cool down room. IF he gets any learning done, it's sheer coincidence. A 7 year old boy with a dimpled grin and sparkling green eyes shouldn't have to worry about his next meal, or whether he has a place to sleep at night. I wonder if some day, those eyes will be looking out of a jail cell. Or closed permanently under a casket lid. I wonder.
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Thanks for teachers
After a wonderful break, it's time to get back to work. I did have a nice Monday. Busy, but not so busy I was crazy busy. My schedule right now is just the way I like it. I have enough work that it's interesting and a challenge, but not so much that I'm working in the evenings and on Saturdays like I did last year.
Say what you want about teachers, I think they are some of the most under appreciated of our work force. Most teachers I know spend far more time at their jobs than the required 7.5 hours daily. Additionally, they spend money out of their own pockets for their kids-this was illustrated again this week when I learned that a teacher paid for one of her students to get her glasses repaired. This student lives in a household where neither parent attend teacher conferences or school programs, in fact, neither parent has even met the teacher. This family has one cell phone which the dad has with him while he works out of state. They have one vehicle, which the dad has with him, you guessed it, while he works out of state. Dad is supposed to be sending money home to his family.
This little girl has needed her glasses fixed since September. Notes home to mom were uneffective. Phone calls to dad were uneffective. Visits to the home were uneffective. Finally, the teacher asked the girl to bring her broken glasses to school, and the teacher then took them to be fixed.
This student, not surprisingly, is struggling in school. A registered letter is going home to mom this week to explain about the girl's lack of progress. Will this get mom involved? Who knows? Past history would say no. But this little girl has a champion on her side who is fighting for her, and that's none other than her teacher. I've known teachers who have paid medical insurance premiums for families, bought clothes and shoes for kids, brought food to families in crisis, and supplied paper, pencils, markers, crayons, Kleenexes, and books for their students. It happens all the time, and most times, others are unaware of these sacrifices. You say there are no heroes? Contact me. I can put you in touch with some.
Say what you want about teachers, I think they are some of the most under appreciated of our work force. Most teachers I know spend far more time at their jobs than the required 7.5 hours daily. Additionally, they spend money out of their own pockets for their kids-this was illustrated again this week when I learned that a teacher paid for one of her students to get her glasses repaired. This student lives in a household where neither parent attend teacher conferences or school programs, in fact, neither parent has even met the teacher. This family has one cell phone which the dad has with him while he works out of state. They have one vehicle, which the dad has with him, you guessed it, while he works out of state. Dad is supposed to be sending money home to his family.
This little girl has needed her glasses fixed since September. Notes home to mom were uneffective. Phone calls to dad were uneffective. Visits to the home were uneffective. Finally, the teacher asked the girl to bring her broken glasses to school, and the teacher then took them to be fixed.
This student, not surprisingly, is struggling in school. A registered letter is going home to mom this week to explain about the girl's lack of progress. Will this get mom involved? Who knows? Past history would say no. But this little girl has a champion on her side who is fighting for her, and that's none other than her teacher. I've known teachers who have paid medical insurance premiums for families, bought clothes and shoes for kids, brought food to families in crisis, and supplied paper, pencils, markers, crayons, Kleenexes, and books for their students. It happens all the time, and most times, others are unaware of these sacrifices. You say there are no heroes? Contact me. I can put you in touch with some.
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
A Gift
A friend at church made a birthday cake
for me and presented it at the women's group Sunday evening. Although this picture does not do this cake justice, you can see it is a grand piano, similar to what I play in our church, complete with a miniature me! Almost everything is edible, including 3 pedals which you can't see. The cake is sitting on a wooden platform, but the piano legs and lid are made of what she called "fondant". Even I'm made of fondant, as is the bench. I hestitated to cut into the cake and serve it to the group, but I did so, and it was delicious! My son finished off the last of the keyboard last night.
I was touched by this gift and by her generosity. Hours of painstaking labor went into the making of this cake, and I am grateful. Although this is sort of a hobby with her now, I think she's hoping it will blossom into a business someday - it certainly has the potential to do so. I'll always remember my piano birthday cake with fondness for its creator and my friend-Linda Presley.
Sunday, November 18, 2007
A Sea Symphony
Today is my 53rd birthday. I'm not terribly introspective about birthdays these days, although, I will admit that my 50th hit me kinda hard. I have no special plans today except the regular Sunday schedule-church, choir practice, and women's group. And that's it.
Last night Dan and I went to the symphony orchestra concert and heard Mozart's Symphony No. 39 the first half of the program, and then a work by Vaughan Williams (1872-1958) called, A Sea Symphony. You can find out some info here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/A_Sea_Symphony_(Vaughan_Williams) . This is a long work, lasting 70 minutes, using orchestra, 2 soloists, and last night, the Friends University Singing Quakers provided the choral interpretation. It is based upon a poem by Walt Whitman, and according to Wiki, it's "Leaves of Grass" but our concert program didn't state that. Here's an interesting stanza:
Yet soul be sure the first intent remains, and shall be carried out.
Perhaps even now the time has arrived.
After the seas are all crossed,
After the great captains and engineers have accomplished their work,
After the noble inventors,
Finally shall come the poet worthy that name,
The true son of God shall come singing his songs.
And the last stanza:
Away O Soul! Hoist instantly the anchor!
Cut the hawsers-haul out-shake out every sail!
Sail forth-steer for the deep waters only.
Reckless O Soul, exploring, I with thee, and thou with me,
For we are bound where mariner has not yet dared to go,
And we will risk the ship, ourselves, and all.
O my brave Soul!
O farther, farther sail!
O daring joy, but safe! Are they not all the seas of God!
A farther, farther, farther sail!
And it ends not in a grand forte flourish. The chorus sings the last line several times, each time softer than before, until you cannot hear voices. The orchestra repeats the notes and it sounds in that great concert hall as if the music is drifting farther and farther away, the maestro conducting even the silences between chords, until finally, you hear just the faintest notes of the bass violins fading away. Then awesome total silence.
I was strangely moved by this work, and left the concert hall with a tear in my eye. Dan thought it was too long, but honestly, I sat for 70 minutes and listened to this symphony, and was surprised to find it was that long. They left the lights up in the concert hall so you could follow the text of the chorus, which was good, because at times the orchestra overwhelmed them and the words were difficult to understand.
This is our second year to have season tickets to the symphony orchestra concerts. It took a few concerts for me to go and just sit and let the music speak. Some works are easier to understand than others - some symphonies and concertos seem to have no discernable tune that you can remember and sing on the way out to your car. The music appears disorganized and dischordant, and you wonder what on earth the composer was trying to get across. But other times, the music is balm for a fragmented, weary, tattered soul, and it washes over me like a healing wave of relief. Thank you, God.
Last night Dan and I went to the symphony orchestra concert and heard Mozart's Symphony No. 39 the first half of the program, and then a work by Vaughan Williams (1872-1958) called, A Sea Symphony. You can find out some info here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/A_Sea_Symphony_(Vaughan_Williams) . This is a long work, lasting 70 minutes, using orchestra, 2 soloists, and last night, the Friends University Singing Quakers provided the choral interpretation. It is based upon a poem by Walt Whitman, and according to Wiki, it's "Leaves of Grass" but our concert program didn't state that. Here's an interesting stanza:
Yet soul be sure the first intent remains, and shall be carried out.
Perhaps even now the time has arrived.
After the seas are all crossed,
After the great captains and engineers have accomplished their work,
After the noble inventors,
Finally shall come the poet worthy that name,
The true son of God shall come singing his songs.
And the last stanza:
Away O Soul! Hoist instantly the anchor!
Cut the hawsers-haul out-shake out every sail!
Sail forth-steer for the deep waters only.
Reckless O Soul, exploring, I with thee, and thou with me,
For we are bound where mariner has not yet dared to go,
And we will risk the ship, ourselves, and all.
O my brave Soul!
O farther, farther sail!
O daring joy, but safe! Are they not all the seas of God!
A farther, farther, farther sail!
And it ends not in a grand forte flourish. The chorus sings the last line several times, each time softer than before, until you cannot hear voices. The orchestra repeats the notes and it sounds in that great concert hall as if the music is drifting farther and farther away, the maestro conducting even the silences between chords, until finally, you hear just the faintest notes of the bass violins fading away. Then awesome total silence.
I was strangely moved by this work, and left the concert hall with a tear in my eye. Dan thought it was too long, but honestly, I sat for 70 minutes and listened to this symphony, and was surprised to find it was that long. They left the lights up in the concert hall so you could follow the text of the chorus, which was good, because at times the orchestra overwhelmed them and the words were difficult to understand.
This is our second year to have season tickets to the symphony orchestra concerts. It took a few concerts for me to go and just sit and let the music speak. Some works are easier to understand than others - some symphonies and concertos seem to have no discernable tune that you can remember and sing on the way out to your car. The music appears disorganized and dischordant, and you wonder what on earth the composer was trying to get across. But other times, the music is balm for a fragmented, weary, tattered soul, and it washes over me like a healing wave of relief. Thank you, God.
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
Sunday Afternoon
Through a series of sorta weird circumstances, I was able to attend a lunch meeting on Sunday - a sort of round table discussion of homeless issues here in Wichita. My thesis research took a look at the academic success of homeless children and levels of parental stress to see if there was any correlation between the two. Of course the sample was way too small to be able to test any sort of hypothesis, but my experience gathering the research at two family homeless shelters was eye-opening for me. At this informal luncheon, a local author read from her recently published book of interviews of chronically homeless persons she met through a local shelter. Proceeds from this book benefit this shelter.
So I drive my 16 year old car into an affluent, upper class, east side neighborhood and locate the house where the meeting is. I park my car and survey the property. I realize I'm not an appraiser, but I would not have been surprised if this house would be valued at 200-250,000K. I was already nervous about this meeting, and became even more so as I approached the front door. The irony of meeting at a quarter of a million dollar home to discuss situations of people who didn't even have a roof over their heads was present in my mind. However, that feeling quickly evaporated as the owner of the house met me with a welcoming smile and warm handshake at the front door. I was introduced all around and in about a minute, was comfortable. We had a finger food lunch, and then for a couple of hours, discussed these issues with openness and honesty. I was asked to present some key points from my thesis, and those present seemed genuinely interested. I walked away, touched and surprised by this meeting. Got in my old car, drove back to my old house, and pondered how I almost let my prejudices decline this invitation. I would have been the poorer for it, not financially, but in my spirit. There is a greater poverty than the lack of money.
So I drive my 16 year old car into an affluent, upper class, east side neighborhood and locate the house where the meeting is. I park my car and survey the property. I realize I'm not an appraiser, but I would not have been surprised if this house would be valued at 200-250,000K. I was already nervous about this meeting, and became even more so as I approached the front door. The irony of meeting at a quarter of a million dollar home to discuss situations of people who didn't even have a roof over their heads was present in my mind. However, that feeling quickly evaporated as the owner of the house met me with a welcoming smile and warm handshake at the front door. I was introduced all around and in about a minute, was comfortable. We had a finger food lunch, and then for a couple of hours, discussed these issues with openness and honesty. I was asked to present some key points from my thesis, and those present seemed genuinely interested. I walked away, touched and surprised by this meeting. Got in my old car, drove back to my old house, and pondered how I almost let my prejudices decline this invitation. I would have been the poorer for it, not financially, but in my spirit. There is a greater poverty than the lack of money.
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