journaling

1.
I've been drifting away from the mirror
forgetting denying escaping the image of who I have been
who I am ...
instead i have been nobody and doing nothing

Dear God, you know me. I call out to you. Take me to the mirror. Shelter me, soothe me, but open my eyes, Dear Revealer.

2.
Here I am elderly
and eager to get older
and qualify for Medicare.
I'll quit my job and write
and read and watch movies.
I'll rescue a dog
and walk her for exercise,
up and down those stairs.
My grandmother was fat at my age
like me - though she wore a girdle, used no cane.
I think she was sharper mentally
She didn't have a job, but she did volunteer work

Dear God, my Grandmother taught me about you. May you bless her soul.
all the souls who showed me You. Thank you.

3.
Men. All so imperfect. Cruelly thoughtless. Liars. Pompous and vain. Foolish. But I am proud to have
loved the worthwhile and useful parts of them.

Dear God, help me to be patient with men.

An extra Thanksgiving gratitude ... for MY grandmother.

I'm a grandmother now, but on Thanksgiving I'm back to age 6 as we drive south to Tarrytown singing "Over the River and Through the Woods to Grandmother's House we Go!" My grandmother was a hugger and my parents were not, so for the hours we took I anticipated the hug she'd give us at the door. She would scoop my sister and me up and give us wiggly hugs. She smelled of talcum and bleach which she used for cleaning. She had sort of a lilting voice and had the kind of accent you hear in old movies. Sort of like Sidney Carlton in Tale of Two Cities 'Tis a far far better thing that I do ..." or her contemporary, William Powell.

She usually had items around with just us girls in mind, a doll, a tea set ... I don't remember ever being bored around grandma. She was great at crossword puzzles and Jeopardy. She taught us Canasta and even now if I'm passing something out and come out exact, I mentally give myself 300 points.

She wasn't noted for cooking so I can't recall any special foods at her house. I know that on Thanksgiving there would be turnips because she liked them. Nobody else liked them, but I missed their smell on Thanksgivings after she died.

Cleaning, Purging, Making a Mess

Matthew 6:19 Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth, where moth and rust doth corrupt, and where thieves break through and steal: 20 But lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt, and where thieves do not break through nor steal: 21 For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.

I finally found my clown bald head and nose. All crumbled up. I guess rubber does that. Like the old rubber bands that are also useless.

I'm purging. I don't need to save the checks from 1979 (although it may be amusing to see what it was like to live on $3000 a year and health insurance cost $300 a month.) I'm setting aside trash to throw away, paper to reuse, paper for recycling (to be stored in the car until the school year when paper waste is weighed for the school contest), file folders and binders... I've got a pile of things to pass on to other teachers- they are unlikely to use them, but I can't bear to toss them directly into the trash.

In my teaching heyday I had a room of file boxes. Each box had a number, in each box were numbered files. Then I had a spreadsheet with each file number/box number and the description of the contents. Then I could simply sort the tags to locate every file I had on, say, Japan, and I didn't have to sort the files, the computer did the work. I got up to box 51. I boiled it down to about 15 a few years ago. And then I lost the spread sheet. I'm going to get it down to 3 or 4 boxes and I'll make a new spread sheet. I'd like to say I'll get that done before the month is over.

I try to describe this system to other teachers when they complain about disorganization. But their eyes tend to glaze over with boredom. I should learn that some people would rather complain that learn solutions. Also that I tend to be boring.

I'm taking a trip down old tech memory lane. There are illustrations I made using stick on materials on light blue grid paper. I'll scan a few and post them here. I remember the fun I had at the art supply store. This was a few years before I had my first computer. And there are drawings on acetate for the overhead projector. I also found some folders on uses for computers for teachers. This from the days when it was work to convince teachers that they might find computers useful. Those teachers are now retired and a new generation has found other things to balk about. I found a 3.5 in disk with files from my Science Center job.

Reading a book of poetry

I have just finished reading a book of poetry by someone I was acquainted with. Finished is the wrong word because I'm not done with reading this book. The poet is married to someone I used to know pretty well and the poet knew a number of other people I knew pretty well. Although I can't say I can remember ever having a conversation with him. For the past few years I've been reading his essays on Facebook and on the website of the Public Radio station he works for.

I'm wondering if the North Country of New York State is a peculiar part of the world or if I just burrowed into that part of the world in a peculiar way. Potsdam NY is a college town, but so is the Eastern Shore town where I live now. It seems that the people I knew in Potsdam were brainy and eccentric in a way I don't run into here. But then I wonder if I'm just not looking right. I am pretty convinced that language is different in upstate New York ... I noticed this when I found a childhood upstate NY friend living nearby and the melodies and rhythms of her voice were familiar in a way that was special to me - in great contrast to the alien sounds of the local Maryland voices.

Reading this book of poetry sounds so much like the North Country to me. I can't tell if I'm reading good poetry because the voice is so evocative of a time and place in my experience. I wonder if someone who has not known the same people, who has not experienced the "mud season", or who has not experienced the small chilly waterfalls, streams and rivers can respond in the way I am responding.

I only lived up there for about nine years. I've lived longer than that where I live now. But I don't feel as much at home. Two more variables to consider: my age then and now, and the historical times then and now. I'm not as malleable now, and I'm less able to scramble into different geological and social terrains and landscapes. I was part of the beginning of a food coop there and the birth of a day care center. I don't have a husband and a child with me any more. In my twenties, they created openings I no longer have. Here I'm active in the original CSA, but my involvement is more isolated and I don't feel much connection to the local membership. Up north, I was also entering the world of academics and the world of 12-step recovery (and the world where they intersected). Now, although I'm still sober, I'm not so connected to "the rooms" locally. (See DFWallace for some great descriptions of the old time AA)

Back in the day, hippies were still around. I was among that group and our group hadn't thoroughly alienated others yet. Then computers were just starting to happen. I was eager to be involved with them, but had no inkling how my world would be so different.

Years ago, even before I'd moved to the North Country, I wrote and did not mail a letter to a famous writer. I proposed that I could read his stuff better than anyone else. I still have that feeling, as a gifted reader, from time to time. The volume of poetry I have just read, recalls that feeling for me.

As is so often the case with my bloggishness ... this needs more revision and careful thought.

Teaching dream

It's unusual for me to have a teaching dream at the beginning of summer vacation. This morning I dreamed that I was looking for a job in the city and I was given a class to cover. The previous teacher was also there. I had some ping pong balls and as I was drilling the class. I would throw a ball and the child who held the ball would answer. The previous teacher started leading the drill. One child insisted on sitting on his desk. I moved over to him with no results. I spoke to him. No result. He would not give me his name. I had some small cardstock diecut forms to make 3d shapes and I gave them out as reinforcements (rather than candy). I gave one to a student who was sitting properly nearby.

Then I woke up and thought "What a good idea!"

I woke up with some positive energy today. It had rained all night and now the sun is shining and there is a breeze moving the tree leaves outside my window. As I move around, packing the garbage to go outside and clearing the kitchen sink, my bursitis slows me down and makes me sit. I take my morning meds. I formalize my daily plans.

later.....


After a few hours of sorting stuff on my desk, I'm exhausted. I found a stack of greeting cards I saved since my car accident a few years ago. They are full of humor and concern and prayers from people I still have not thanked. Nor have I emulated their kindness by sending greetings to others. I am crushed by shame and self- condemnation. And it's getting hotter outside.

Happy Easter - mundane thoughts

Overall, it's been a lovely Easter. I didn't feel up to going to the sunrise service and I'm pretty sure the "hard core" was there at 6AM. I heard people say it was the warmest sunrise service they had experience which was no surprise when you think it was so late in the year. CR managed to find daffodils for sale, but not in great quantity. I made some origami "easter egg" earrings before I went to the 10:30 service. At this late service, there were a portion of people who were actually squirming. They were clearly there as a favor to another family member. The girl in front of me was so uptight, I felt like giving her a neck massage ... but figured that would have been the last straw to send her screaming out to the street. Her whole crew raced out to the front sidewalk after the service while they waited for Aunt Dorothy. Since they were of mixed races, they looked quite attractive out on the sidewalk and created a nice impression of our congregation.

I'm sure people were uncomfortable about the lack of guidance on etiquette. We were dressed in the whole gamut - boys in suits and ties, a woman with a "covering" on her head, a man in a dashiki, political t-shirts, jeans, and I wore a very old dress with new sweater - and the singing behavior varied just as much. Many old folks remained seated along with a few non-participants, the guitar player's daughter danced with the music up front, Mr. Pastor raised his hands, and not many sang because the contemporary music was unfamiliar. I wished I had come to the more traditional 9 AM because I had those old hymns down cold. I shed a few tears missing my Dad who sang the old hymns so well. All made me reflect on what a strange occasion late Easter service was. It was the pastor's chance to deliver a message to those who only came once or twice year. I was not surprised that Martin delivered a positive message.

Later in the day I listen to Rick Warren's sermon which was similar. A little more direct and filled with metaphors using the testimony of a Chilean miner.

I decided not to break my meat fast today by cooking at home because I didn't want to inflict the smells on my vegetarian neighbor. I think she's gone back to DC now, so I'll be making corned beef tonight, and maybe lamb tomorrow. Even I hate the smell of lamb.

How to have a Treme marathon

Treme is the name of a neighborhood in New Orleans. It's also the name of a television series that is produced by Baltimore's David "Homicide, Wire, Corner" Simon. Simon has shown that he is an expert in making the location a starring character in a drama. Treme's previews promised good acting and noteworthy music performances. Along with the big name actors such as John Goodwin and Melissa Leo there are many exciting local musicians and a good seasoning of good cooks.

I have just finished a marathon of watching the first season. Here are my directions for how to do it.

First you have to have no TV, because if you had a TV you would be unable to resist paying for HBO and watching it when it first broadcast. Second you should have no local friends with class, because if you knew someone else who watched the show, you'd be borrowing the recording they made. Then you have to have patience to wait for it to arrive on iTunes.

I recommend not watching the episodes front to back. Yes, you should be watching your computer screen steadily as you would with any marathon. But, the experience is best stretched out by reading Alan Seppinwall's reviews on HitFlix and Dave Walker's (of The Times-Picayune) very informative blog after watching each episode. I even like to read the reader comments. All this gives me a feeling of being in the know. This practice goes back years ago to the mid 90's when I would join UseNet's Alt.TV.Homicide forum on the night right after Homicide had been on. I'm still in contact with many of the people I met there (Alan Seppinwall was one) although we don't meet regularly we did before Tivo. As it was with the early years of Homicide, the audience input is usually informed and entertaining. Treme requires a degree of intelligence and taste. Good jazz is not for the hoi palloi.

Because I include reading reviews and blogs about the show, it requires a pretty heavy investment of time. I'm on Easter break, but I have other things to do. That's where getting sick comes in handy. For the past two days I've had a sour stomach, an earache, and maybe a fever. I'm too sick to do little else but watch the show.

Another season is beginning and I'll probably have to wait a year to see more. Since I have it in my iTunes files, I'll probably watch season one again. It's very good.

Withdrawal - deferred

My internet connection is not working this morning and I have a while to think about what a blessing that could be. It is so easy to get distracted with the daily news and amusements found on Twitter, eavesdrop on the lives of friends on Facebook, look at weather patterns, growing eaglets, zoom around GoogleEarth views. Tuning into the internet gives me distraction from contacting my aunt, gives me reason to delay sorting papers (months worth of bills -fortunately I pay bills with the internet). Stumbling gives me reason to avoid writing my blog – which I am doing now on Word.

I get online with some worthy purpose in mind. Just now I was going to look up some audio books because Neil Gaiman said in his blog that listening to Dickens on audio books helped him to exercise. I figure I could turn down the volume of my chair dancing DVD and play an audio book on the computer, and as he discovered to be true, be less bored … and enriched in the process. But I have some audio files already downloaded, certainly enough to listen to for the small time segments of exercise. And cruising the web for good literature would be a minefield of distractions.

I have an apartment jam packed with worthy projects. My fingers may be flexible enough to play the fiddle again. And I’ve got Garageband and the Amazing Slow Downer programs to put JD Crowe on slow speed enough to play along. And that’s way down on my list.

Near the top is to make origami earrings to wear around as advertisements for the Japan project. The Japan project is to make and sell origami in little boxes (school colors) and donate the proceeds to Red Cross in Japan. They could certainly use some help.

I got this idea when I was bored silly proctoring a statewide assessment test and I began to pray to pass the time. My prayer was answered with an idea. I’d put tiny origami into small origami boxes and sell them as Christmas ornaments etc. and I’d ask my Japan-loving Otaku adolescent grandson to help. If I get a fully formed idea after prayer, I take it pretty seriously.

When I presented the idea to my grandson, he was not eager to do folding - he lacked the confidence – but he was willing to cut paper and I’m hoping to persuade him to do the bookkeeping (which would help with math). There’s a bright but bored student at school who loves to do folding, so I just provide him with fancy paper. That’s another reason to make jewelry during this Easter break: I can make him some to give to his mother/sister.

So I’m recognizing the signs of withdrawal from such a strong habit as the internet. Years ago when I quit smoking I’d periodically pat down my blazers in search of a forgotten pack. Now my mind drifts in the browser direction even as I am enumerating the benefits of not getting online. I usually forget that I don’t pay for my internet connection … I’m picking up something from WiFi. I don’t even know which of my neighbors has the unsecured linksys. I wonder if they have recently learned enough to make their connection secure. Or maybe the commuting neighbor is disconnecting hers. This has happened before, but I have no understanding of why it stopped and why it started back up. So I am left wondering about the future of my connection. Such a philosophical feeling!

But now I see I'm back on line, so I'll post this and get sucked in again for now.

Even when I'm an anthiest

... I'm glad I have a church.

I am not always a theist. Sometimes I think and act like I will simply rot when I die and random acts of kindness make no difference to anybody. Sometimes when I pray my mind drifts to shopping lists and sometimes church music just brings out the critic in me.

But when it comes to wanting to have a positive effect on the world, I'm always glad I'm in a church. As an individual I can recycle plastic and metals. I can give money to roadside beggars. I can offer rides to people who need them. I can donate to red cross. I can visit the sick. All of these actions reflect my good intentions. But I'm more active as part of a group. As a church member I feed and shelter local homeless people, contribute livestock to families in third world countries, help pay secondary school tuition for a student in Guatemala, recycle aluminum, and send hygiene kits to disaster regions such as Haiti and Pakistan. That is the activity of my church locally. We also are part of larger networks.

I urge you, the reader, to find a church that is actively being the hands and feet of Jesus. If you are in a church, but are not involved in action as a community, I urge you to find another church. Church is not just a place where you practice being nice.

Manna

It was great to be at my home church this morning. The contrast with my old church was pretty dramatic today.

Last week I visited my old church. I was really happy to see many of the people I love dearly and don't see much any more. I got to see Joyce S. who is in frail health. She's an "elder" in my eyes. She should be a deaconess, but the congregation doesn't think women should have that role. Since I've known her, she's been an exemplar of service. I remember watching her from a distance as she picked up nails off the lawn left there from a building that had been demolished after a fire. No one was around. No one asked her to do it. No one thanked her.

She began an English class for immigrants and worked for a long time as the sole teacher. When the class grew, even though her health limited her participation, she manned the sign-in table for the attendees for twice a week, week after week. She seems to always be around when something needs doing. I also noticed that the developmentally disabled people and mentally ill people would approach her to talk. Many people say they have a heart for the handicapped, but the handicapped people can determine who will and who won't give them any attention. I watch who they choose to talk to. Joyce gives them true respect. When she was able to drive she gave rides to people were in need. She visited the sick - I know she visited me when I was sick in a nursing home. She visited people at the Westover migrant camp, and when a man had a knife wound in his neck she held him in her lap applying pressure until the ambulance came.

Many of the people who served at the English class have gone on to other congregations. Amy C. has joined a church that has a stronger mission for service. I remember when she volunteered for ESL. I was stunned with gratitude that such a strong servant would find the time and energy, but then remembered that "if you want a good volunteer, ask a busy person." She was once nominated to be a deacon but the furor was great and she was in tears over being a "source" of disharmony.

I say I jumped church because of the dishes my new church used at the "Love Feast". I had wanted to go to a footwashing for a year before I finally attended one. My first post to this blog (http://tinyurl.com/4vsyofd) is my thinking about it. I had the impression that Christians participated in footwashing because Jesus did it and told us to do the same. And when I finally went I noticed they used real dishes - Corel. The church ministry center is so small that there is no dishwasher. The dishes are carted in tubs to different homes to be washed. I was so impressed that they didn't use paper or styrofoam. This church's behavior with its dishes showed me that this was where I belonged.

That was about three years ago (I'll have to look this stuff up and revise this blog as necessary). When I left my old church we studied the Bible carefully (a strength) and were reminded that homosexuality and abortion were sins (a waste of time and hot air enjoyed by many Christians). I personally didn't know anyone who appeared to be defending homosexual relationships or who were interested in terminating pregnancies. There were plenty of sins in evidence but they were never addressed. The preacher was speaking to a nodding choir. We were not challenged. It seemed the same when I went to check out the new pastor last week. (Not that I would have wanted to challenge the power structure that was in place if I were a new preacher!)

The people at my old church were for the most part very nice people. They excelled at being nice. And I'm afraid that's part of why I've left them. I need to be around people who are eager to be more than nice. The Christ I came to call Lord has asked me to take up a cross.

This morning at my new church the topic of the sermon was "give us this day, our daily bread". Martin had a Bible in his hand throughout. He wasn't making stuff up. He could have spent the time congratulating the congregation on the past two weeks of ministry to the homeless. We could be patting ourselves for doing our good deed for the year. (My old church does not participate in the inter-church rotating program at all). Instead he called us to realize that while it's hard for Americans to understand the importance of asking where the next meal would come from, we should be saying the prayer to keep us open for the understanding of the many who do not have the means to determine how their daily bread will be provided . He talked bout Heifer International and Free Trade buying as things we can do to help others. He even suggested that we could eat less!!! Nobody but my doctor and my relatives has ever had the nerve to suggest that I eat less. It's a lot closer to home than gay sex or abortion.

One verse he cited I want to remember when people discuss taxing the wealthy.
It comes at the end of the parable of the wise manager.
^{Luke 12:48} .... From everyone who has been given much, much will be demanded; and from the one who has been entrusted with much, much more will be asked.

Our church is feeling the economic crunch of the recession, but Martin suggested that we spend the lent season with a goal of filling an "ark" for Heifer International. Here he talked about one of my favorite topics: Manna

More on this to come. I plan to revise this post quite a bit.
It was a very challenging and invigorating service and I'm glad I was there to be a part.

Hello much neglected Blog

I'm out sick for the second day with a sick stomach. I'm watching a gory TV series on Netscape. No, it's not Dexter... that show lost my interest after the third season. I'm up to the fifth season of Wire in the Blood ... it's gorier but the hero has lots of compassion and a really good sense of humor.

I just read on Facebook that a man I used to work with has "joined the ranks of the recession affected unemployed". What's sad and stunning is that he has worked at the same place I worked with him almost 20 years ago. I'm waiting to be let go myself. If it weren't for health insurance, I'd be delighted to retire. I got an offer to get a bonus if I announced my retirement intentions in a few weeks. But they won't pick up my health insurance coverage unless I have 10 years in the system and I only have five years in this county.

I fell out of bed last night. Haven't done that in years and years. And I got back into bed without barely becoming conscious. I think if I'd fully woken up, I'd have had a harder time.