Tis the Season!

What a wonderful Christmas with many highlights in no particular order:

1. The Super Boy capes - Stephanie and I spent several hours on Christmas Eve sewing Super Boy capes for Wesley and Finn. Well, Finn was with us so we were not able to give 100% attention to the capes - not when a smiling almost 11-month old demands your attention. I, for one, was most happy to put sewing aside to help him empty plastic things from my kitchen cupboards. They make such nice noises when banged together. And they scatter so well.

Finn getting ready for lunch in his great great grandmother's high chair.
Notice my scarf tying him in.

The capes have been worn continuously since Christmas morning.
On the reverse sides, Wesley's has a big W and Finn's a big F

2. I passed the cookie-making baton to Stephanie. I think this is the first year since the early 1970s that I have not created a floury mess in my kitchen as I rolled out dozens and dozens of cookies. It was a fun ride but also exhausting and I really can't do it anymore in my small kitchen. After 10 seconds of internal assessment about how I felt about passing the baton I realized it felt GREAT! And now I know it is much more fun to make a Christmasy mess in someone else's kitchen.

It was the more than willing 4-year old hands that made the process a bit more challenging. Wesley wanted to help at every step. When he jiggled the table for the tenth time while Stephanie was, oh so patiently, trying to outline shortbread cookies with thin royal icing I giggled as I heard her mutter under her breath through slightly gritted teeth, "Remember, I am creating memories." So funny.  And, actually, we all had a wonderful time. Memories WERE created.

Finished bags of cookies for Wesley's
 preschool staff.

3. The tree - My most unusual tree (some have had the nerve to compare it to Charlie Brown's) that I bought 6 years ago at the Day-After-Chrismas-Sale at Brinton's in Carmel has served me well in the small places in which I have tucked it. It's 6 feet tall but only about 2 feet wide - it's more of a redwood tree than a fir or pine. But it is perfect here at the OFH (Old Folks Home). It fits right into my wee space. 

Welsey added an ornament of his own creation. He gathered some of the felt from the stocking I made for Finn and voila, with a little glue and some pins, he felt it was a perfect representation of a reindeer's antlers. Who am I to object? It held the place of glory on the tree.

You will note that I followed the "If 3 ornaments can fit in a space certainly 20 can" philosophy.
The tree may be small but it was jammed full of memories.

Do you see the small Santa ornament to the immediate left of Wesley's "antlers" (mid antler)? It is the triangular-shaped Santa's face with a red plaid cap - eyes barely peeking above a white beard? This ornament has special memories. Years ago the family had an intervention with me about the decrepit shape of the flannel nightgown I chose to wear - season after season after season. Although I cherished that nightgown - its pulled-out-of-shapeness made it especially comfortable - they pointed out that it also illustrated my complete lack of personal pride. Couldn't I see how simply awful it was? Okay, it was wretched and threadbare but they didn't have to get personal about it. But I got back. On Christmas morning they each received identical santa ornaments made from the remains of that nightgown. I still laugh when I pull mine out each year (and secretly stroke its softness - such a great nightgown!).

4. Wesley's use of my Noah's Ark Advent calendar (an ark with 12 pairs of animals and Noah). Last Christmas 3-year old Wesley used the ark to illustrate how animals can pee overboard  by hanging off the side (like the way his Uncle Lee pees on his and Titi's boat). This year he had a more scientific bent. When he discovered that the wire tail of one of the little pigs had come off, he brought it to me to fix. I told him that the pig would have to have surgery. Wesley was intrigued. He decided that ALL the animals needed surgery. He would pile a group of them into my small African mokoro model boat then sail them to a nearby "hospital" - another basket - where I performed MANY surgeries (both the few that were needed and those that were completely superfluous) over the past weeks.

The mokoro is at the bottom of the ark ramp ready to pick up the animals.
"Surgery" is the basket to the left.
Busy busy hospital this Christmas season.

5. The Butt Biting Squid
The very best family gift was the HUGE Butt Biting Squid made by Michelle (Titi) for Wesley and Finn. After all the to-do over the imaginary butt biting squid that could supposedly leap up and bite Wesley's butt if he tried to pee overboard on Lee and Titi's new boat - well, one actually arrived via UPS. Michelle is incredible. It is 5 feet long, designed and executed by her. It even has a zippered mouth that can open up and attack the butts of unwary overboard pee-ers.

We have used it in all of our play. It has been slept on, hugged, dragged, and used to lunge at stuffed animals (and Grandma). Wesley is utterly enchanted. Thank you, Michelle. It is brilliant.

It was a wonderful season filled with blessings and I hope that all of you have had equally joyous times with family and friends.

Happy New Year!

It's an Old Lady with Books!

My first full-time teaching assignment was 6th grade social studies (Ancient History) at Ponus Ridge Middle School in Norwalk, Connecticut. I really enjoyed my 3 years with 6th graders. I don't think there is a better age for teaching ancient Egypt, Greece and Rome. They respond so well. What's not to love about pyramids and mummies and Greek gods? In September they are still kids but the pull of adolescence is just around the corner. By June the girls' curves are in evidence; the boys, however, are another story. Many are still short with higher pitched voices; their changes are a year or more away. Thankfully, most of my students still wanted to please and would raise their hands frantically when I asked questions -  even when they didn't know the answers. Call on me! Please! Please! Please!

Things haven't changed. I have a new volunteer job with the Portland library system. I used to work in the gift shop at the main branch in downtown Portland but now I visit two 6th grade classrooms in a low-acheiving school in NE Portland. I visit every other month and bring 2 copies of 9 books with me. I leave the 18 books so they can exchange them among themselves until my next visit. I spend about 30 minutes with each class, reviewing books I brought last time and enticing them into reading the new books I have with me.

The goal of the program is to get kids to read therefore all books are of high interest. As the head of the program told me, it is not the greatest literature but they are fun, exciting, adventurous, creative, filled with imagination - all designed to get them into their hands. My 9 books always include 2 graphic novels and 2 "chapter books."  The remaining 5 are a mixture of poetry, drawing, adventure, horror, biography, sports, history, etc - I have hundreds of titles to choose among. Thus my bookshelves are filling up with 6th grade-level books (well, with reading levels of probably grades 4 - 10 which represent the students I reach).

Last week was my second visit and I was on my own this time. I found myself nervous. "Come on," I said, "34 years of teaching under your belt - you can do this" and once I pulled out the first of the 9 books, nervousness fled and I loved drawing them in.

How about a book where 14-year old Peak (ah, new age parents!) is caught by NYPD finest at the top of a skyscraper he has just scaled and is only saved from significant time in Juvenile Hall by the appearance of his father, the most famous mountain climber in the world, who agrees to take Peak out of the country and supervise him himself? Nice for Dad to offer, but Peak hasn't seen him in 7 years. Dad has been too busy climbing mountains. And what will happen when his father  announces how he plans to have Peak spend his time - scaling Mt Everest?

Or, the novel about Isabel who has just moved from a house she loved, next door to her best friend, to a dumpy apartment above a laundromat - a space that her parents are going to convert into a cupcake business named, appropriately for its Oregon location, It's Raining Cupcakes? Will the move be worth it? Can Isabel establish a new life?

Or Finding Big Foot (by the folks at Animal Planet) - with facts galore about how to convince your parents to make their next vacation a Big Foot expedition, what gear to bring, what to look for, what to expect? Who knew that Oregon is number 5 in the nation for Big Foot sightings (and, just across the Columbia River, from Washington which is #1)?

Or Ghost Fever, a story in both English and Spanish about a haunted house in Dustin Arizona way back in the 1950s. The ghost is female and she goes after the 14-year old daughter of the man foolish enough to rent the house. The locals warned him but he just laughed. Who's laughing now?

And so on.

By the end of the session with the first 6th grade class I was feeling confident. When I asked if they were interested in reading any of the books, one girl in the back sighed contentedly, "All of them!" I gave myself a mental pat on the back.

Ah, pride goeth before a fall. I left the classroom and knocked on the door of the neighboring 6th grade room. The glass panel in the door was covered with paper and, I soon learned, the teacher was out of the room (everything I learned from my law class in the administrative master's degree program came flooding back - "Teacher, you better pray nothing happens while you are out of the room!"). A student came to the door, pushed back the paper covering the glass, looked me over, opened the door, turned back to the class and announced "Ah, it's an old lady with books." The rest of the class sucked in their breath and out came the collective "Ohhhhhhhhhhhh". They recognized his rudeness. I, in a manner totally not conducive to teaching him a lesson, burst out laughing and said to him: A) I am old, B) I do have books, and C) Your mother probably wouldn't want you to say that." He looked sheepish. I made the point.

With just the evidence of my first visit in October I already knew that this class performed below the level of the students I had just left and, sure enough, their responses to my questions about the books from my previous visit were less critical, less thoughtful. But, like the other class, they were enthusiastic about the books I described. I am no fool, I saved Big Foot for last and it worked its charm. They were all ready to go hunting - even Mr. Big Mouth who had opened the door.

As I bagged up the books they had returned from my October visit and walked out to my car I decided  it is very good to have a toe back in the classroom. Like my 3 months of teaching 5th and 6th graders in India, it's fun to be back part-time, to not have much responsibility, to just get to enjoy them. But I will watch out for Mr Big Mouth. I'm ready. He won't get me twice. 

Asleep in a Sail Boat

My grandson Wesley thinks California is pretty special. Granted my own children thought the same of their annual summer trips from Connecticut to visit their 4 grandparents in the San Francisco area - they were spoiled and feted by them and so understandably believed that California was the Land of Milk and Honey. The same happens when Wesley visits our extended family in the Bay Area but, on this trip, he was especially excited about our plan for Sunday, our last night in California. We were going to sleep in a most unusual place - on Dulcinea, Michelle and Lee's new 38-foot sail boat (well, used but new for them). How could all 7 of us fit? Their last boat was 15 feet shorter and could only sleep 2. Not Dulcinea. 15 feet makes a big difference.

The excitement began when all 7 of us met at Michelle and Lee's loft in Oakland in the late afternoon. Before we could think about moving over to the boat we had to answer another question - where would we eat dinner? We could sail in their smaller sailboat (Rigel) up to Jack London Square and find a restaurant there, then sail back to Dulcinea (Dulcinea is in the shop getting its mast shipshape but we could board it at the shop's slip). Or we could eat in one of Oakland's other restaurants. Or we could order food, pick it up and take it to Dulcinea. We opted for this last suggestion - we couldn't wait to get on board. Given that we didn't fit in one car Lee, Dan and Wesley sailed Rigel over to Dulcinea while the rest of us drove into Alameda to pick up the food and then on to the dock.

Rigel got there before us so Wesley welcomed us on board. He demonstrated how to get down the ladder to below deck and showed us the amazing sight - an interior big enough for all 9 of us (the 7 of us plus Michelle's two Moms). We laughed and chattered. We oohed and ahhed. We commented on every feature. A bathroom with a toilet! Such an improvement over the bucket in Rigel. Running water! All the storage! Clever shelves and cabinets tucked into every nook and cranny. A stove top, oven, and refrigerator! We have loved our trips on Rigel but this was luxury indeed.

We soon moved to the table where we sat and shared food while we talked and laughed. 6 of us sat on 3 sides of the table; the others sat across on a padded bench. After what seemed like only minutes but was probably close to 2 hours, Marlena and Leanne went back to their place in Oakland and we, who had slept in different beds each of our 3 other nights in California, who were catching an early flight back to Portland, were more than ready to turn in. Wesley could barely keep his eyes open but watched the miracle happen - the table disappear and a large bed appear in its place; the padded bench pulled out to become a twin bed. Adding these to the large spaces under the two ends of the boat - well we all had a place to sleep. Stephanie and wee Finn were tucked under the rear deck, Lee and Michelle under the front deck, I had the twin and Wesley and Dan shared the large bed. Although it was quite cold by the time we went to bed and Dulcinea has no heat, we were soon toasty warm under fleece sheets and blankets.

As I drifted off to sleep I wondered how different it would be if we were at sea instead of in a slip - I expect there would be a lot more rocking. Instead we fell asleep in gentle peace. My only memory during the night was hearing the occasional sound of Baloot's toe nails as she moved up and down the path between the beds. What a good dog, making sure all was well. No 5-foot butt-biting squid would board the ship under her command.

I look forward to more excursions on Dulcinea and what a lovely ending to our time in California. Thank you, Lee and Michelle. It was such a treat.

Onwards to Christmas.

20 Years Later

I really enjoyed teaching high school seniors. 18 is such a great age. Yes, they still do the eye-rolling they all mastered when they were 12 but it is now done with more humor. At 18 they have "been there-done that" as far as the high-school scene is concerned and can focus on those areas that interest them most - they are less scattered than the freshmen I also taught. Although, on the surface, they appear to know what they want to do in their near future, you only have to scratch a bit to find that many feel vulnerable as they worry about where they might fit best. There are a lot of decisions they have to make - both exciting and a bit scary. It is this mixture of attitude and angst that interested me. There is just so much to talk about with seniors.

Then add the course I taught - a one semester macro/micro economic overview. I loved teaching Econ. It is so easy to make it relevant to 18 years olds. When things got a bit slow all I had to do was pull out articles that described interesting jobs (leech farmer, fire jumper, person who cleans up scenes-of-crimes, etc) and you had them. Would they do it? Why or why not? The same with analyzing the potential future of new products. I remember bringing in a sample - it was little disks of pressed baking-soda that you toss into a toilet for boy toddlers to aim at when potty-training - and the ensuing discussion that ended with one senior grabbing the sample and marching off to the boys' bathroom to give it a try. He reported back that it was great fun. How could you not enjoy teaching classes like that?

And then there was the Corporation Project where each class formed a company, elected directors, made products (food) and sold them on campus over two days. It was creative (oh the clever ads and T-shirts they produced), analytic (as they figured out supply and demand and dealt with the realities of  their classmates as labor force), completely exhausting (for both me and them) and what a mess it made of my classroom. However, there was no question that it brought home key economic concepts, united them as no other project that I taught did and, what most surprised me, is how very very hard they worked for such low profita. Each $5 they invested usually only returned about $9 but that didn't matter when it came to bragging rights over who won.

The state of California requires one semester of Economics for graduation and, for many years, I was the only one who taught it. That meant I taught them all - every kid in the school crossed through my doors at one point or another in their time at Carmel High School. That included my own two children.

My daughter Stephanie graduated in 1993 and I was one of her class's Advisors. That meant that, 20 years later, I was also invited to her class reunion. It was held last week (the day after Thanksgiving) at Bernardus Lodge in Carmel Valley and what fun I had. One of my favorite moments was buying drinks for my daughter (hmmm, she didn't bring her money - do some things never change?). I mean buying liquor for a student at a high school event? Really? Okay, it wasn't school sponsored, it wasn't at Carmel High and she is over 21 but I still smiled when I went over to buy our drinks.

About half of her classmates attended which is darn good when they are scattered all over the country and globe. Some flew in and some were already here celebrating Thanksgiving with families. And they all looked so wonderful. Some were immediately recognizable - it seemed like they didn't change at all. Others I could figure out if I had a chance to look at them a bit before I went over to chat and then there were the handful where I really had to search to find the 18-year olds hidden in their 38-year old faces - but a glimmer was always there.

They were doctors and scientists and professors and artists and teachers and social workers and politicians and PR/HR/IT folks - and I have forgotten how many more. They were single and married, gay and straight, parents or not. Many had photos and I loved seeing them all. They seemed so very adult one minute and then I would spot a giggling group and it was as if they were right back in my class, trying to pass notes across the room. Certainly 20 years could not have passed.

What surprised me is how many were still in their first marriage. I know they are members of Generation X and I greatly admire this generation - the generation that brought balance back into the workplace. The generation that is not willing to put up with all the demands we Baby Boomers accepted as we fought for recognition among our HUGE class of workplace peers. This generation insists that time with family and friends is just as important (if not more so) as time at work. At this point their divorce rate is lower than that of their Boomer parents and this class seems to represent it well.

Bernardus Lodge was lovely. The dinner was delicious. I was in the exact same room maybe 15 years ago for the wedding of one of Stephanie's classmates. Both her classmate and her husband were at the reunion - and both seemed as happy as they were on their wedding day.

And so 20 years have passed. I loved watching them interact, hearing their stories, catching-up. I wish I had talked with all of them but there just wasn't time. And I really hope that I (and Jeff Wright, my co-Advisor) get invited to their future reunions!

Congratulations Kimbley (future mayor of Salinas, I am sure) and Tessa and all the others who worked so hard. It was a great party.