Dad's expressions and more food stories

Part of being a part of my family was hearing certain expressions that my Dad used.
When he wanted to reprimand a child he would say "Pasta fazool!!" which is, simply, pasta with beans, but the child didn't know that. We acted as if it were a magical incantation to make us behave. We'd be bickering with each other, Dad would say "Pasta fazool!!" and we'd stop. We would be dallying and Dad would say "Pasta fazool!!" and we'd hustle. My sister says it was Dad's version of "You better straighten out and fly right!" It worked so well on my own son, that he refuses to say it with his own son because he thinks it is abusive.

We ate dinner as a family at a round dining room table. Usually some child would be balking about eating something. Dad would threaten,"no pie for you!". As we got older, we learned to ask "IS there any pie?" and Dad would say "No, but there's no pie for you!"

Whenever we got into the car ready for an excursion, Dad would say, as he turned the key in the ignition, "We're off! Like a dirty shirt!" For some reason, that still cracks me up.

Dad's favorite nicknames for my sister and I were "Sad Sack" and
"Sunshine". He called us both by both names and usually Sunshine for the one who was being grumpy at the time.

When my brother was born we lived in the upstairs of a two family house. Many many times we were told not to bother the family downstairs:"Don't disturb the Rostheizers." Even after we moved away, the phrase echoed in our ears whenever we started to get noisy.

We were proud that we had a family whistle which was handed down from my father's family. If our parents wanted us to come running they would whistle: sol mi, sol mi, do re mi, sol mi
Up until I heard another family use it, I thought my family had invented it.

When I was about ten, the volkswagon microbus came on the market. Our family was one of the first in town to get one. It was basically a box. In the days of tail fins and chrome, our basic box car was an embarrassment to a pre-adolescent. Once we were driving on an Adirondack two lane highway when we were passed by a few motorcycles. A few more stayed behind our van. As we passed through Warrensburg with two motorcyles before and two behind, Dad gave big waves to everyone that could see us.

Years later I suggested to Dad that he stick his left arm out of the car while the passenger on the right did the same with her right. Then as they went around curves, they moved their arms to simulate glider wings. His car and my car did this on the ramps to the Baltimore beltway. Good times.

Dad instilled a few food traditions.

Corn on the cob was a treat and was available only for a short season. It was considered the main course and eaten at an outdoor picnic table. The hamburgers were only a side dish. It was best served freshly shucked from the garden and boiled in a big pot. The little corn shaped holders that stuck in either end were essential. We would roll the ear in the margarine on our plate and sprinkle on salt. And then, before we bit in, there was an almost ceremonial shake of the cob. Dad ate his corn with this little shake, so we all did.

Once Dad was at a YMCA conference and he and his friends went to a restaurant. The restaurant had many conference participants as customers. There was a sign on the wall that said "Baked macaroni with rich cheddar cheese". So when it came to order Dad said "I'll have the baked macaroni with the rich cheddar cheese!" Then the next person ordering said "I'll have the BAKED macarOni with the RICH CHEDdar CHEESE!" and the next person said, while slapping the table in rhythm, "I'll have the BAKED macarOni with the RICH CHEDdar CHEESE!" Pretty soon everyone in the restaurant was chanting,""I'll have the BAKED macarOni with the RICH CHEDdar CHEESE!" Back at home, Mom made excellent macaroni and cheese and it was a frequent main course for supper. Whenever we ate it, we would do the macaroni and cheese chant.

Other food traditions were having spaghetti at Christmas because it was easy and well-liked.

At Thanksgiving we upstate New Yorkers practiced the Baltimore Maryland tradition of having sauerkraut because our family friend from Maryland, Eileen, liked it. While my grandmother was alive we always ate turnips, as well. After she died, because nobody else liked them, we missed the smell of turnips on Thanksgiving.

Mom’s cooking

Mom’s best dishes were split pea soup, minestrone, chili con carne, and tomato aspic. Grandma made a good roast with cloves, and a “shepherd’s pie” which was baking powder dumplings floating on a beef stew. Grandma was also fond of stewed tomatoes with bread. She presented it to us grandchildren like it was a treat. I never told her that I didn’t like it.

food stories

Nana and the ice cream

One very warm day, when she was in her eighties and living with us she walked down to the village of Ardsley while we were all gone and purchased a quart of ice cream. She really liked ice cream. She took a taxi back up the hill and when she went to open the door of the the house she found that she had left the key inside. The ice cream was starting to melt. She had no spoon. A walk around the house showed that a small cellar window was open. Without a bit of hesitation, she climbed up, in the window, down on to the washtubs and into the cellar. She really liked ice cream.

Dad and the liver

Dad lived as a choirboy in the Cathedral of St. John the Divine choir school when he was around ten years old. The boys led a pretty formal life. He told us children about how, like me, he didn't like liver as a boy. He would "finish" his liver by putting it in his pocket and throwing it away later. Once, however, he forgot to throw it away and was discovered when the jacket in his closet began to smell.

John and the broccoli

My brother John had thought he'd found a way to dispose of unwanted dinner until a very thorough house cleaner found petrefied broccoli stuffed in the pedestal of the dining room table.

Rick and the animal crackers

During a family gathering at Grandma's, Cousin Rick did not ingratiate himself with the family when he threw his box of animal crackers into Great Aunt Sophie's soup. He's been in disgrace ever since.

Eileen and the cheese

A close family friend came to visit one evening and started to walk around the house with a funny look on her face. "What are you doing, Eileen?" "I think I smell a dead mouse and I'm trying to locate it." "That's not a mouse, Eileen. It's the cheese you gave us for Christmas!"

Dad and the milk

The kids in my family really liked milk, but we could never get as much as we liked. Dad would say "Milk is a food, not a beverage." Sometimes on the lucky days we would have pie, Dad would give us all pie with a glass of milk. We would usually finish the milk before we finished the pie, and Dad would not let us have any more, saying "Milk is a food, not a beverage." With nothing to wash it down, the last forkfull of pie was unpleasant. Meanwhile Dad's milk glass remained full until his own pie was finished. Then he would pick up his glass and drain it, saying "AAAAAAAHHH". Thus we had a lesson in delayed gratification.

At Christmas (more on Christmas later) we would have a big bowl of shrimp to be dipped in shrimp coctail sauce. To be sure that the kids wouldn't be fighting over who got the most shrimp, Dad would count it out. "Everyone may take three shrimp!" and we would. Then "Everyone may take three more shrimp!" and we would. And on and on until the shrimp was gone. Of course we would gobble it as we got it. But when the shrimp was gone, Dad's plate was full of his own share of the shrimp. Thus we had another lesson in delayed gratification. Every year.

I understand that children who are able to delay gratification grow up to be greater successes in life than those who don't. This has been tested by leaving children alone with marshmallows. I don't know how kids develop this skill. Neither my brother, sister nor I have it.

stories on race relations

My sister's memories are quite different than mine, and in some cases more detailed. I guess getting a black eye from a green apple when I wouldn't defend her would create a lasting impression. Perhaps she is getting some satisfaction in reminding me what a villain I am in HER family stories.

Like those in other White Anglo-Saxon Protestant American families, members of my family have travelled a long road when it comes to racial understanding. Each generation has rid itself of a little more prejudice than the last. Some of our family stories reflect the prejudices that continue.

Grandma tells the story of taking young Bob to the movies to see The Ten Commandments. (Dad was two when the 1923 Cecil B. DeMill movie was made.) When the movie was over, they were walking on a busy street. Bob saw a Jewish man with a long and impressive beard. "Look Mother! There's Moses!"



When I was roughly two or three, Dad invited a colleague for dinner. Men usually wore fedoras as daily wear - the way men now wear sports caps. There was a lot of laughter from the guest when I asked, "Mister, why are you the same color as your hat?"





This story my Dad told to show off his mastery of the Irish brogue. He left a memoir of his grandmother in writing, so I will reprint his version here:
William Moulton (Sr. ) liked to be up to date and soon after Model T Fords became available, he purchased one and took the whole family for a ride -- over the Brooklyn bridge and into Manhattan. They were doing fine until they got to Broadway and 42nd st. where a policeman directing the traffic stopped the cars, including the Moulton's headed East on 42nd. The car stalled so Grandfather jumped out and cranked it to get it going and when he got in to go, the policeman had stopped the East bound traffic again. It stalled again and the procedure was repeated. By this time , the traffic was backed up all the way to 8th street. The policeman was angry, Grandmother was mortified and the rest of the family huddled down as far as they could in the meager seats. Finally, the policeman in complete desperation held up all the traffic and walked over to grandfather saying with a real Irish Brogue --- "Ef yer ever get that tin lizzy goin again, take it back to the ferm and keep it there". My grandmother was a proud woman. ( I really would have liked to have seen that.)

Mother learning Spanish

Mom's mother died when she was thirteen. The family lived in the SouthWest in Arizona or New Mexico and Elsie-Beth went to school with several Mexican friends. They gave her lessons on several phrases she might find useful. However, she didn't know they were off-color remarks.
My sister tells me that was around the time the three girls were sent to live with cousins in the northern states.


My family took pride in being in the vanguard of racial tolerance. My grandmother was in a sorority that included Jewish women. My mother's father famously challenged a fellow Baptist over his acceptance of colored people. And my father and his boss were proud to have allowed colored kids into the Tarrytown YMCA. Even though there is plenty of racism in my family and in me, my family has never considered racism as politically correct.

I'll get this out of the way first

If I'm going to talk about my family in a book that is read anyone who comes upon it, it will agitate some of my relatives. They will disagree with things. They will not like my own point of view made public. I'll clear things up right away and stress that this is a book of stories, not facts. Chronology, science and majority opinion may run counter to the things I tell, but I am only passing on stories. As in any history, the true facts may never be known. I have invited others to make comments and add recollections. I may or may not use them. True or not, it depends on whether or not they create better stories.

The stories I wish to tell are those that were told more than once. Such stories take on a rehearsed tone and seem to be simply waiting for a cue. Often the story is more fun to tell than to hear.

My mother told me several times about the time she came upon a surprising scene in the bedroom that my infant sister and I were sharing in New Hartford. I was playing on the floor and my sister was in the crib. My sister had reached out and had pulled out all of my hair. There was hair all over the floor. I had very blonde and very fine hair. It grew in rather slowly and, when I was close to one, my father labeled a sled box I rode in "Cathy Express" so that people would know I was a girl. So my folks were probably concerned that all that hard earned hair was gone. (picture of Cathy express)
This story may have stretched over the years, or I have misremembered it, because 1) I have no pictures of me being bald after two and 2) I was a real crybaby and mother would have heard me yelling. This is an example of a favorite family stories - how true or accurate it is will always be debatable. I also have come to distrust the stories of our family, mine own included. But I will do my best to be faithful in recording the lies I am fond of remembering so that they may be passed down through the family line.
(picture of me combing patty's hair) This is the first family picture of my sister. She wasn't born at this size. Like many second children, her babyhood was taken for granted. That table with a chair in the middle was fabulous and it was used 8 years later by my brother. For a short time, it prevented my sister and I from killing each other. But I digress.

Another favorite story of my mother's was when she asked a neighborhood child "Where did you put your turtle?" and the child said "I gave it to Patty". That got my mother busy looking for Patty. She knew that Patty put everything in her mouth. When she found Patty, sure enough, the little tiny turtle legs were sticking out of her mouth.

While Patty was still under four, Mom took her to the Child Guidance Clinic, where they explored why she did things like kick Sunday school teachers, bite other children, and eat turtles.
After a few initial sessions of Mom telling them that her sister Cathy would never do such things, they decided that Cathy was the child they were supposed to be seeing. So they took me to the Child Guidance Clinic. I can remember play therapy where I built bridges with blocks and played with toy people. I've been told that they were anatomically correct people, but I have no memory of that. My father often said, with sadness, that in the good old days before I was five, I was "so well behaved". I guess they cured me. I guess that is more a story about me than about Patty.

Patty tells a story about her difficulties learning to read. She had a great deal of difficulty in primary school.* She says that in grade 3 she could understand whole paragraphs, but her decoding skills were non-existent. Evidently she was a context clues kind of kid, on whom phonics were useless. She says that something "popped" in her head and suddenly she could read. She still loves to read, but her spelling is a source of great amusement for others.

When I was eight and my brother was born, Patty and I once again shared a bedroom. Patty was considered a messier housekeeper than me. My toys lasted years, hers lasted moments. One night I dreamed that we had worked hard with our parents to clean our bedroom. By the end of the dream, the room was neat as a pin. Then I woke up. There was the room in its usual messy state. I tend to get my dreams mixed up with reality, so I could only assume that Patty had gotten up and messed the room up again and gone back to sleep. So I went over to her bed and started beating her up before she had woken up. Patty had a hard childhood and I don't think getting beat up before breakfast was any help.

Patty would have had a different, easier life if it weren't for her sister getting others to gang up on her every chance she got. Once I overheard her telling a bully in the park "I'm going to get my sister and she'll beat you up." and I stepped out from behind a corner and said "I will not". My sister says she got her only black eye from that kid. The nastiest thing I did was when we moved to a new place, I would tell the new kids all the bad nicknames ("witchie", "cooties") she had from where we lived before.

One thing my parents will deny was that they used the expression "son of a bitch" and other words often enough for it to become part of our regular vocabulary. One year, our rural school got a first year teacher who taught grades 6, 7, and 8 and who served as principal as well. At first he was really easy going. He had read Summerhill. He listened to Joan Baez. He drove a VW beetle. He was great friends with our parents. He took my mother and I to see Andre Segovia. But as the year went on he got much more rigid with his students.** One day he announced that students using foul language would have their mouths washed out with soap .. liquid green soap. The first student caught cussing was my sister, who said "damn" having no idea that it was bad language. Mr. Montgomery was quite distressed at having to punish the child of his friends and, to provide an out, asked her to spell "dam" in hopes that she'd provide the homonym. That might have worked but "somebody" called out "Oh Mr. Montgomery. You know Patty can't spell anything." Later, my parents said "we never use that sort of language". Well, they didn't after that.


* Unlike her sister who brought home so many A's that she was thrilled when she got a C in handwriting - hoping in vain that her parents might fuss as they did over Patty. Instead I was greatly disappointed when Dad said "I, too, had bad handwriting when I was your age."

** Once he caught me slapping a student and I had to write "I will not create a disturbance without asking the teacher's permission." 5000 times. That's when I learned that if a teacher is going to make students write sentences they should at least contain something worth remembering. Like: "A fraction is in its simplest form when the greatest common factor of the numerator and the denominator is one."

A start

family stories

So many of grandma's stories are forgotten. I can hear her telling them in her upper class New England moviestar accent and playing sorrowful notes with her voice. She used lost words like "cunning" and "stout" and "gay"

I'm a story teller myself. I know this because my friends have been trained to hold up two fingers to tell me I've told the story before. Or maybe to indicate "peace".

patty pulling out hair
eating turtle
kicking the Sunday School teacher
biting people
therapist
learning to read
waking up and hitting her
getting mouth washed with green soap

race understanding
there's Moses
Mister, why are you the same color as your hat?
the irish cop
mother learning dirty words from Mexican kids

food
Nana and the ice cream
Dad and the liver
John and the broccoli
Rick and the animal crackers
Eileen and the cheese (dead mouse)
"milk is a food, not a beverage"
milk with pie

Dad's expressions
pasta fazool
"no pie for you!"
We're off! Like a dirty shirt
Sad Sack, Sunshine

food traditions
shaking the corn cob
I'll have the BAKED macarOni with the RICH CHEDdar CHEESE!
spaghetti at christmas, sourkraut and turnips at thanksgiving

dirty jokes
rust- mom
I'd swear I had two when I came in

Stories I have told
John and God
John and the facts of life
Gareth and the facts of life
Finding Anne franke on the internet
Singing with dad's dementia

Dope stories
It's all in time to the music

Will Brady stories
What will they do now? Farm
looking at geology
"my faith in you is restored"

Don't disturb the Rostheizers
The family whistle

Elmer and the stone
Elmer and the porch
Elmer and bullheads,bacon and bisquick, vargas girls

Mom's cooking
pioneer stew
macaroni and cheese
baked beans
meat loaf and turkey stuffing
tomato aspic
Grandma
shepherd's pie
stewed tomatoes with bread

books on the table top
the family of man
pay the two dollars
cartoon book about having a baby

Records
Sing along with Mitch Miller
Tom Lehrer
Stan Freberg The United States of America
West Side Story
Frank Warner

Christmas
creche at christmas - looked like stained glass window images
night before Christmas
sugar plum tree
tangerines, hard candy, olive can in the stockings
Child's Christmas in Wales
dad counting the shrimp

sad stories from mom
how her mother died
how mom learned to swim
living in a tent and having squirrel for christmas
being reprimanded in school for chewing dentine, wearing a horned toad as jewelry

sad story from dad
the little indian boy in Little Falls

Marian and the eyeball
marian at the airport
Dad in Annapolis
Cathy in Virginia
Seth in New York

appendix .
stories dictated or written by Dad
When the Kennedy's came to Raparius told by cousin Edith

Songs
When Apples Grow on a Lilac Tree
Desperado
Good morning Merry Sunshine
Broadway's a Tame Street
A Man Without a Woman
Love's Old Sweet Song

Regaining focus

It's been too long since I've blogged. Getting into Facebook and then YoVille is bad for the focus. Well school's out and I'm painfully unemployed for a few months. This time is an opportunity to clean up, sort out, settle down and focus in.

thoughts on our school system's non-policy

I was able to recycle plastic for our school on only one day. Then our maintenance guy must have mentioned something because he was told that his people could no longer put out bags or, so I’m told, even lift bags. Now, I’ll bring in bags and at least collect plastic and aluminum from what kids I can.
It’s less the plastic waste (which IS considerable) that bothers me as much as the hypocrisy we practice when we teach kids that recycling and conservation is important. Our actions show that we really don’t care very much. So I want to do what I can to show by my own actions that I and a few others DO care enough to go through some trouble to recycle.
I get irate over apathy and lack of concern for our planet’s environment. It makes me feel like grabbing a sign and starting a blog/newspaper/TV campaign and complaining. But I think that while it may bring out some concerned citizens, it wouldn’t create any newly concerned citizens. I really am not a charismatic sort of person. The best I could do to transform hearts is to act as a teacher of children, which is something I’m good at.

Springtime harvest

It's cold and drippy and perfect weather for growing spring vegetables. Yes it's vegetable pick up day at our local organic CSA market and I have come home with fragrant potted parsley and (oh joy) potted basil which I hope will thrive outside my window like it did last year. Then there's young carrots, spinach, bok choy, butter lettuce and a big bunch of crunchy asparagras. And my neighbors came down to carry it upstairs. I had plenty to split with her. Now to eat! I don't know where to start. I guess I'll have lettuce because it's the most fragile. Bok choy tomorrow.

bouncing on the bottom

I'm feeling guilty because I spent $21 on my grandson this weekend. It was money I didn't have and it was stuff he didn't need.

Meanwhile a crisis is looming ahead. I have already disconnected cable and haven't bought clothes (except for prescription shoes) in well over a year. I'm getting internet from my neighbors' routers. I've got just enough to make the rent this pay period. Gas money, medicine money, CSA money, electric, phone(which I've got down to minimum $17 a month)... there's probably other money I don't have as well. I'm not depressed so much as sickened. I almost wish I could be depressed instead of appalled, dismayed, and bewildered. Or would depression be an add-on rather than an instead-of?

I'm on my way this morning to do blood work, which I'd better do while I have a credit card that still works.

Good spirits

Recovery seems so much slower these days. But I was reminded about how hard it used to be to step up onto the curb at work (students would help) and so I know I am doing better. Money's still awful, I can't keep up with simple housekeeping, and things keep going downhill for the nation, but I'm in good spirits, probably because I took action toward service to my neighbors.

I wrote an email to other coworkers who I know are concerned about recycling (all three of them). I asked that we might support each other in efforts and I offered to pick up plastic recycling at the end of the day. I have been so sad to see kids who are willing to toss bottles into recycling who have no place to do it. (Not all the kids, but a good portion - more than three.) This looks like a service that I can do.

I'm taking my grandson to Barnes and Noble this afternoon. It's his favorite hangout and I'll be teaching the game of Go, with his help, as part of a fundraiser for our school.

Flu and lunch duty

I'm on my break at work and reading up on the latest with swine flu. We've been warned that a pandemic can happen ... just as we've been warned that the real estate bubble could burst. (a pandemic will make our economic woes increase as welll)

I'm dreading lunch duty when I get to watch fourth and fifth graders do unsanitary things with food. I've already been watching how they waste food and resources. I'll do what I can.

stepping out

I didn't go to work this morning because I woke up with a raging headache and an upset stomach. But that's not what I meant to write about. I'm writing about progress - although staying home sick doesn't seem like much progress. I guess it's a two steps forward, one step back sort of thing.

Because of my recent experience, I've gotten interested in visiting people who are stuck at home, or in the nursing home, or in their minds .... Being a semi-stuck sort of person myself, I haven't run out and gotten things happening very quickly. But yesterday I did an important thing: I stopped by the nursing home. My ankles both hurt dreadfully after a day of work, but I was motivated. Unfortunately the two people I'd hoped to visit were no longer there. But I saw two people I recognized and visited with them. One woman had gone home while I'd been there and was back after a fall that broke her pelvis. She was mighty blue and I commiserated. Another woman had been there for some time making slow progress from a severe stroke. I promised her some fast food on my next visit. I didn't do much and I didn't stay long, but I think my feet actually felt better as I left.

Lesson learned - a person can do some service if they just appear in a needy place and open their eyes and ears. No need to figure it out.

Progress and progress

I let go of some pride and let Alicia and her sister in law give my house a thorough cleaning. I don't know how she did it. She even did the ceiling fan and I don't know how she reached it. She's about 4'10'' and her sister is much shorter than that. They even cleaned the venetian blinds. They were exhausted when they left at 7 and I try not to think about it because I came home and went straight to bed at 3:30 and feel like a slacker.
One of our teachers rushed to the hospital this morning (test results yet to be disclosed) and I covered a few eighth grade classes. Actually the teacher's husband, who is also a teacher, popped in frequently. We both were at a loss on the algebra (the course work on the graphing calculator magically erased from my head) so we just chatted with them. I had them taking turns telling stories about bone breaks. Riveting!
I've been following Renovaré pamphlet on discovering my current rhythms of life and filling them with a deeper awareness of God. (I just misplaced it, but I'm doing the exercise anyway). I'm reading my grandmother's old prayer book daily too as a way to start and end the day. I'm trying to keep it simple and as close to my old routine as I can so that I can keep to it.

Bottom

This is a screen shot from the movie "Before the Devil Knows You're Dead", a movie about two brothers who make very bad decisions and find their lives unraveling. I'm very much in touch with that feeling this morning. I don't know if it's therapeutic, but I want to lay out these bad feelings in one place. Maybe to face them. Maybe to mark a bottom place in hopes that things don't get much worse.

I have three weeks of laundry accumulated. I don't have cash enough for the laundromat. I need help getting the bags into the car and I'm daunted by the simple task of pulling the wet laundry out of the machines and into the dryer. I'm not out of clothes if I'm careful. I will be able to have some cash on Wednesday, but don't know if I'll have energy for the four hours at the laundromat until next weekend.

A friend called last night and asked if she could ask another friend if she could clean house for me. I'm guessing that she means to pay the other friend who makes her living this way. I told her I'd get back to her. How can I describe how such an offer accentuates how bad I feel? I don't even understand it myself. I really would like my space to be cleaner and Alicia has done a great job in the past. None could do it better. I am sad that I can't pay Alicia with my own money. I am sad that I am physically unable to get on my hands and knees as I used to. I'm sad that I can't climb a ladder. I am sad that I'm in bed much of the time because of pain. I'm sad that despite how much I work through therapy, there is a race between physical progress and physical deterioration. I don't think I mind accepting help when I think it's temporary. I feel that a helpful person would like to see some progress for their efforts. Help for me seems like a place holder.

On a daily basis, I have food, shelter, transportation, work, medication, entertainment and work. So much more plenty than so many others in this world. But I struggle with the feeling that I'm entitled: that I'm entitled to security that I don't have ( ... my church paid my rent this month and I don't know how I'll make the next car payment and the car takes me to work), that I'm entitled to more (my friends and family often complain that I should have a better apartment). I know in my mind that I'm not entitled any more than anyone else, but my heart has a different story.

My best friends, the people I most confided in and sought advice from, have died in the last ten years. This reminds me that I am mortal. I feel unready to die and realize that I'm not progressing in that readiness. I figure I'll be even worse off before I die. That's not optimism. I wake up too often with very dark thoughts.

This improves during the day. I have plenty of diversions ... and probably too many opportunities for entertainment. I have good spiritual resources which are handy when I choose to use them. I have wonderful people in my immediate world ... the graces of people make the sins of people easier to bear. The grace of God make my own sins easier to bear. Spiritual resources don't guarantee happiness, but they do sustain me.

Back in the pool

It was nice to be back in the warm water pool at Aquacare today, but after 3 hours of therapy I was shot for the day. Becky the therapist gave me a huge massage on my hand (and then ice) and still feel sore 10 hours later. She told me about patients addicted to pain meds and made me glad that's not a problem for me so far.

I've been grumpy with relatives.

I went to the new coffee shop run by some folks from my church. Good mellow coffee, fair trade, and a muffin cost me less than $3.

Progress and regress

I've been blue because my financial picture is looking bleak and as I mentioned, I'm tired of pain. But I went to physical therapy yesterday and to my surgeon's today and physically things should be looking up this month. I'll be in the pool for gait work and "on land" for my wrist strengthening. Right now my grip is at 6 in my left hand as opposed to 40 in my right. The therapist tells me that should improve.
Also I'll be picking up new shoes and orthotics tomorrow (and they're already paid for).
My church is paying my rent this month. It's hard to be on the receiving end of charity, but it's wonderful that it's there.

Pain And Suffering

It's been 3 3/4 months since the car accident and although I have been progressing, I'm still experiencing sharp pain, swelling, and fatigue. I love being back at work and working with kids, but that's all I have energy for. I drag myself up in the morning and I collapse when I get home. I haven't had physical therapy for two weeks ... not enough steam to get in and out of the car after work. I have an appointment to start next Wednesday. Actually I stopped by today by mistake, but I was relieved when they turned me away.
I had a splinter in my heel (the "good" foot) for more than two weeks. My doctor had a hard time finding it to pull it out. But she found it and also gave me encouragement and told me I was wise not to go back to teaching night school right now. Though money is so bad, I wake up in dread each morning.
I was much more chipper several weeks ago. But maybe that was oxycontin. Now the road to recovery is getting old.

the x rays are in

Here's a few of the x rays someone at the hospital was kind enough to mail.

Charity

I've been thinking about sacrificing in giving and the idea reminds me of this powerful and surprising scene at the end of the movie Schindler's List. There is an urgency about the generosity of some people I have known. Perhaps it's because the truly generous know what their love and resources can do, so they withhold very little.

On the road again

It was my first day back at work (although I had been to the school for a few short visits). The kids who are special to me greeted me, each in their own special way. Staff was a blurr. Each going about their constant business and giving a happy greeting and then moving on. My mending joints did remarkably well, but my back was in agony by the end of the day of sitting. (Note to self: call the chiropractor soon!)(note: Do it NOW!)(OK I did it and have an appointment for Saturday at 10)
Now I'm lying on my futon enjoying my second kosher dill pickle. Hits the spot.
My main thought is on planning to get up early enough to get out of the house on time to get to school in time to get my wheel chair moving down the hall to clock in.
I'm pretty pleased that I got the schedule made for picture day in record time. Assuming I did it on the right letter day, much of the work was done by me last fall when I made a spread sheet system to record conflicts in teacher's planning time, and avoiding times that come after PE. Unfortunately nobody else could have used my spreadsheet, so they waited for me to return to get the job done. Well it's nice to feel appreciated. And I mean that.
I'm reading a little of 40 days of Living the Jesus Creed every night and feel as if it's keeping my compass in line.

"You can't go home again"

I had bad dreams last night, dreams that I actually can remember. I dreamed of the place my father retired to and then sold a few years before he died. He had taken such good care of the place and the people he sold it to treated it much more casually. In my dream I had walked to the store in North Creek and the owners didn't remember my dad. His old place was run down as it was when he bought it.
After I woke up, I thought of the places where I've lived and of how I thought they would stay unchanged. After all the effort we put into a home, it's dust and ashes after a few decades. What lasts? I have my grandmother's silver spoon collection. Absolutely nobody in my family has a desire for these spoons. I have a website that I have been tending and growing for a little over a decade. Someday that internet "property" will be completely ignored.

More and more I think poetry is the legacy that lasts.

Amazing and Unhappy

If you use Facebook you've probably seen this. (Warning: This was a moment of insight for comedian Louis CK. The other stuff I've seen of his on Youtube is really tasteless.)

Pain and judgment

Tomorrow I hope to drive my car. Sunday I hope to drive to church and then to a school staff "Christmas party" (It's never too late!) But all these hopes are in the air because yesterday I went to Social Services to apply for food stamps and the simple experience of waiting around for a few hours wore me out. I got home at noon and was shot for the day. My wrist was on a pain level of 7/10.

Today I'm feeling much better because I learned a lesson (yet again) that pain pills are meant to be taken early and more often than I would like. My current pain meds are Ultram and Naproxin ... not narcotic or mood altering. The main reason I avoid them is because I'd rather not spend money on them. But too much pain makes me unproductive which is ultimately more expensive.

I also have trouble judging how much activity is good. Even in physical therapy I tend to get over-enthused and pay for it. On the other hand, since I've come home I don't have the good exercise regimen I had at the nursing home. So I'm afraid I might be UNDER doing some activity. Of course from day to day my stamina and strength changes, so I can't beat myself up for lack of judgment.

First outing

Yesterday I went shopping and got out for the first time since Dec.6 (except for Dr. visits via ambulance). My son took me car shopping and I'm very glad he came with me because then the car salesman pitched to him instead of me. I'm very happy with what he picked and sure hope the insurance settlement goes a way toward paying it.
We had Burger King for lunch and went to a very nice sushi place for supper (to make my grandson happy) and then grocery shopping. When I got the velcro boot off at home, my ankle was HUGE, but it got back to normal this morning.


My neighbor brought over the blackberry cobbler I asked her to cook in her oven. MMMMM And this morning Writer's Digest had a wonderful poem by Gary Snyder about how blackberries grow in old logging skidder roads - this evoked very vivid childhood memories for me.

How old am I?

I was telling a friend about David Foster Wallace and she said "Was he middle-aged?" (when he died). I said "Oh, no. He was MY age!" Which made my friend laugh and say "YOU are middle aged." I was shocked at the thought.
Then later I was telling the story to my son and he said "Mom, you're not middle aged, I'M middle aged."

Not so overwhelmed at home

How nice to have a next door neighbor who was willing to bring me a glass of water after I'd taken off my velcro boot to go to bed! It makes me feel a lot less helpless when I am able to accept help from other people. And I've got lots of people who are helpful. With and without help I got a few chores done and don't feel so overwhelmed today.

PS To quote Lena
Thank goodness for unsecured wireless networks!

Overwhelmed at home

There is a very big jump from skilled nursing care and being alone at home. I was definitely ready to leave the nursing home and was the most independent patient there, but I'm feeling very inadequate at home alone. It's hard to find a place to begin sorting things out and hard to decide how to schedule my day. Every little thing is a big deal.

Outta Here

I'll be leaving the nursing home this Saturday afternoon!
I've been practicing walking with a walker and climbing stairs with a cane. Kind friends from church came and cleaned my apartment and have stocked my kitchen!
I don't know when I'll be online. I have to reconnect my cable connection. I'll be out of work for at least two more weeks. So much to do!!

It won't be long now

I went to the doctor yesterday and got permission to use full weight on the boot. Today I climbed and descended on 6 steps. Now I'm trying to figure out how to stay here until Saturday and then be able to leave on that day. That way my son will be available for transportation.

Two folks from church have already cleaned my apartment. So I won't have to face the rotten winter squash that was on the top of the fridge.

The hosptial is mailing me a disk with all my x rays. I'll post them as soon as I can.

I'm hoping to rent a wheelchair for work, and a walker for home. The big chore ahead is shopping for a car.

I still have not mastered the art of patience, but I certainly have had lots of instruction. Since patience is a GIFT of the Spirit I guess I'll have to have patience about receiving it.

I found a really neat selection on secular spirituality in this month's Christianity today

...readers and viewers, often young and outside the church, fashion personal spiriual systems from individual experience and elements of mythic popular culture. Seekers, then, get some answers and taste of transcendence without the moral accountability or costly interpersonal committments of church. But they also forfeit significant checks on the reasonableness of their beliefs, a worthy object of worship, authentic spiritual community, and, most importantly, any ultimately redeptive message or means.

-James Harrick "Sci-fi's Brave New World"

events

Folks of my church community are in prayer for a family that's having a hard time. There seems to be one medical emergency after another in the two generations. Yesterday the mother in the second generation was hit by a car and has suffered some serious injury.

My room telephone number has been changed ... it is now 410-341-5527. I was pretty steamed about the change, but I got over it.

Then I got steamed that my roommate had gotten into my stuff while I was out for therapy. I went to our section office and said that third time was enough for me and that I did not wish to be in her room. Because there is painting etc. going on, they couldn't move her tonight, but they will SOON. Meanwhile, my roommates' wheel chair is posted outside of the nurses's station where they can keep an eye on her.

Connie came and brought a pickle which I scarfed without even savoring it. I was too agitated. After conversation we prayed for Tracy and I felt a little more centered.

My cribbage buddy is going to the hospital for chemo this weekend, so maybe I'll read up on cribbage via Wikipoedia and impress him when he gets back.

Not pinochle

I'm learning cribbage. I was excited because I thought my dad described how my great grandmother played cribbage with my grandfather. Now that I'm on the computer, I looked up Dad's memoirs on my website and now I see that it was pinochle, not cribbage. I guess I'll learn pinochle too.
My roommate and I are in a new room down at the end of the hall. We were moved because there is wallpapering and painting going on. I think we'll have it quieter and there is a little more space.
My regular therapist is back and laid down the law. Back to doctor's orders. No walking.

to sleep, perchance to dream

I'm sleep deprived. Last night my roommate was into "riding" her bed for twenty minute stretches. By that I mean she was using the electric bed raising/lowering controls. I tried to nap yesterday afternoon and I was wakened to report on how many bowel movements I had during that shift.

But here is piece of good news: I was actually WALKING today. I had a different therapist and I told her I didn't want to hop with the walker and she asked me if I could walk woth the walker and I did! I think I'll have no trouble with the stairs, once I get rid of this boot. (picture is on the wrong leg, btw)

Waking up

A few days off oxycodone now and I'm feeling more like myself ... generally a nicer person and certainly more awake. I'm also more anxious now as I am not numbed about my have-to-buy-a-car situation and trying to figure out how mobile I will be at work (maybe I'll need a wheel chair for when I get tired in the afternoons?)
I have gotten around to plow through much of my professional e-mail and I'm thrilled to see that I was replaced (til the end of Feb) which means I'm not expendable.
I'm looking forward to RUNNING out of here. Though a few things I'll miss ... clean linens whenever I want them, getting laundry done often, three nice meals with lots of variety, sleeping til 8 and not rushing when I get up. I look forward to my steel cut oatmeal, good coffee, nobody waking me up for pills or tests, the smells of other people, my computer access, QUIET!!!, seeing kids,...
But don't think I have a clue of when I'm leaving. I'm guessing I'll be here til the middle of the month.

latest news from the nursing home

It's hard to be newsy from a nursing home. Though last week was somewhat newsier than most. I would have kept you posted but the internet was down on the library computers. My roommate sort of went crazy. She was into my stuff a few times and was ranting to invisible people much of the time ... including nights. She also kept trying to crawl down out of her wheel chair, so I was hitting the call button rather often. I was feeling less and less charitable to the point I couldn't stand myself very much.

Two things have changed. I stopped taking oxycodone and switched to the pain med I used to take at home. And my roommate was taken off an antibiotic that was making her act so weird. So I'm feeling more charitable. It's needed here because there are some very disturbed patients. Today I offered to close a lady's door and she said "I'm dressed". Evidently she thought she looked OK in a bikini. More details would be too much information even for the TMI blog.

I also have finally figured out how to get the computer to print (the trick is to use a different computer). And how to use Skype with a mike and headphones. Which I"m going to do right now to call my step mother.

Happy day!

Yesterday was my best day since the accident. For excellent starters I had a SHOWER! Hooray for my excellent CNA (nursing assistant) who was excellently tactful, thorough, patient and kind.

After that I took another WALK on the parallel bars. OK it was really a bunch of hops while supporting myself with my left elbow and right arm. But that is significant progress. Daily exercise is paying off.

A therapist says “EVERYONE progresses” The SORT of progress is what’s important. Significant progress is better than moderate progress.

My roommate’s brother bought me a big jar of kosher dill pickles. A dill pickele is as good a snack as a Three Musketeers’ bar and certainly not as high in sugar. I learned that there is a fridge and a microwave for patients. So if I get another cold I can warm up chicken soup. I’m becoming quite used to my roommate now. It’s nice to have someone to look out for. Since she nods out so often, she keeps me busy using my grabber to pick up pencils and books off the floor and I help the nurses remind her to eat.

Today I’m feeling optimistic about getting back to work in March. I’m dreading having to shop for a car though.

Today was another happy day. Nancy, who has visited before, brought Joyce. Joyce is one of my very favorite people in the world, and I had told Nancy that. Joyce no longer drives and it was especially thoughtful of Nancy to bring her. Among the many wonderful things about Joyce is my experience of her consistent and long term help with the ESL class. She actually started the teaching tradition long before I was involved. Joyce is my service role model.

The swearing in

I'm not sure how to spell inauguration. Great day for me. I went to rehab early so I could watch the inauguration on TV. I took seven steps using the parallel bars using weight on my big left toe. Then I went to my room to watch the inauguration. During Rick Warren's invocation everyone on the floor .. nurses and patients ... were silent. It was a very moving moment. Then during Obama's speech there was lots of cheering.
When I came to the computer room, I heard from a guy from Europe who I used to talk to on Skype. He's moved to England and says everybody's pleased about our new choice of president. That should be no surprise. World opinion was my own major concern in voting.
That's it for today. It's not yet three and I'm tired!

aint behavin'

School professionals are "on" all the time. We are always on task, polite and kind constantly, no matter how we feel.
So as a patient, I am a consumer instead of a provider. And I can misbehave and not get fired. And there are a few patients who give the nursing staff constant grief and the staff is required to give nothing but kindness back. So today I yelled at the guy in the room next to me because he feels that we ALL should be enjoying the same gospel music he has on his TV this morning, just like he thought we All should have been enjoying law and order last night at 2 AM. I went to his room and yelled "Are you hard of hearing sir?" And he shouted "all you do is complain". The nursing staff was in stitches. Reminds me of what I like about peer teaching. Only another student can say "Don't be a ding-a-ling" to another student. Sometimes such comments are needed - nonprofessionally of course.
...............
Dr. King Day
I'm just about over the cold I've had and it's great to be feeling better. I'm touch typing again with BOTH hands. That's a relief.I told the folks at therapy that I fully intend to watch the live swearing in tomorrow. I cancelled my hair cutting appointment too because I'd hate to say I missed this historic moment because I was having a shampoo. So I'll go one more day looking homely.
I'm remembering watching Kennedy's swearing in. I was in seventh grade in a two room school. Mr. Whitney let us watch the world series too. I know they are watching the inagueration at Pittsville tomorrow (thought doubt they'd watch a world series ;-) I think of my Dad. He would have enjoyed this moment so much!
Well, time to type a to-do/wish list for my son.

a nother world

I so admire people who faithfully visit hospitals and nursing homes. When I leave here, will I be one of those people? Today I had nice visits from Connie and Julia (who brought chocolate covered raisins and nuts.. mmm)

I'm pretty groggy these days and don't accomplish much. I did help teach people to play on the wii today, and had a nice long conversation with a lady who has dementia pretty bad, but who likes converstion. I figure I was helping the nursing staff some by keeping her occupied in one place. I truly enjoy talking with her too.

I'm crawling through Infinite Jest but pretty slowly because even though I really enjoy the book, I keep falling asleep. I fall asleep because of the pain pills. I hope the pain I'm experiencing indicates good muscle work and nothing amiss.

I'm thinking a lot of thoughts and meeting really interesting people who have really intersting situations. Wish I had the accuity to write about them.

................................
It's been a while. I have had a cold. More later.
....................................

Great visits from church folks. Connie, Karin, Dave...
Also a happy face balloon to tie to my wheel chair and a nice visit from Judy who is in a neck brace and may be out from work herself soon. My coworkers declared a casual day on my behalf and took a nice collection for me!!!

Click here for next blog entry.

Nursing home continued

I ate supper really fast so I could get on the computer. There are two computers and many more users.

The location of the nursing home is on the corner of Civic Avenue and route 50. If you click on the name on the map at the right you'll see a bird's eye view.

As for when to visit? Hard to say. I'm in the dining room at lunch time and at 6 PM usually.

What a treat today! The girl I mentor at my school showed up! It seems her mom works HERE! So she'll be able to visit lots of time and maybe I can tutor her some.

I'm starting to read a great book, but it's too big for me to carry (1,097 pages). I also started folding some origami figures. I'm giving up piano playing for a while ... my hand has been too sore. I learned to get into bed using a sliding board today. whee!

BLood work says I've got great numbers.

Seth and Gareth came for more Uno today.

Fog delay for the return to school. Bet teachers loved that!
..........................
Tuesday
I'm in the computer room looking for origami directions on line. I thought I wouldn't take too long, but find I have to download stuff like pdf reader and flash readers etc.
I continue to get acclimated.
............................
Thursday
I've been here much too long. I get excited over the meals.
Yesterday they had a Wii bowling game. Great fun.
I'm still either in pain or numbed out.

I am listening to the life story of a lady who was shot excaping from East Germany. Was an olympic swimmer, too.

Time to go to a new blog post!

Nursing Home

I've moved into a nursing home, which I will blog on here.

When I was 18, 19 and 20 I worked in a few nursing homes. Now I'm on the other side of the experience. It's nothing I would volunteer for, but it's not torture either. I have a telephone, thanks to my son, and its number is 410-749-2634. I stay out of my room as much as I can. My roommate plays the TV constantly and loud, she throws food on the floor, and she has very smelly toileting accidents. So far she has only left the room to go to a church service, so I leave often. It could be worse. She could scream all the time and doesn't.

I have access to blogging in the "library" which is a very pleasant room on the far side of the building from mine. I have yet to bring my earphones. When I do, I'll be able to listen to any phone messages left on 410-713-4408, and maybe I can use skype to call long distance.

I'm keeping a list of "pain and sufferings" for possible legal use, but I'll try not to inflict blog readers with them.

This morning, being Sunday, had no physical therapy, so I didn't take a pain pill. Big mistake. I went to the church service in the dining room and had to leave and go back to rest in bed (in a nice quiet room). I had to take two pain pills then instead of the one I should have taken in the first place.

Yesterday I had two visitors from church. One friend came to help a patient with her hair. Meanwhile her husband is home with heart complications after knee surgery. (I just met another woman today with simmilar heart problems after knee surgery and I'm feeling fortunate with my own knees.) My other visitor travelled some distance back home to get me a clock and a box of splenda packets. Having a clock plugs me back into western civilization! I asked her to tell me her life story and she told me a great deal. I enjoyed that greatly! I think I need to take time to hear more about other people. There are so many wonderful stories in the people of my life.

Later my son and grandson came to play UNO. I had great fun because I found a few ways to cheat. They also brought a bounty of chinese food!

The folks I ate supper with last night enjoy singing. We sang "my girl" last night, so I'm going to dig up some lyrics on the web. There's a printer here.

Scroll here for next installment.

hospital

I'm in the hospital ... recently switched to rehab ... i was in a car accident Sat, pick up turned right in front of me, i had no choice but to hit it. Monday had surgery. two broken leg bones, messy, wrist bone, not so messy. more to follow ...

If you haven't guessed already, the car is totaled and my days of driving stick shift are done for. Yesterday it seems as if the push for me to be more independent has slowed to a crawl. I'm under orders to call for a bedpan rather than hop to the commode. Evidently my bones are so much of a mess that any weight bearing activity is dangerous.


My son brought pizza and a movie yesterday ... certainly a treat. Made my blood sugar rise but forgivable. Earlier a visitor came by and fascinated me with anecdotes about pet birds.
A friend is acting as my "private social worker" and was able to assure me that I'll be able to stay here until at least the end of the month. I was also able to get some suggestions for lawyers.

... Monday. I've got a lawyer. No trouble trusting him since I've known him for about ten years. He will come to visit tomorrow afternoon. he suggests that my son take pictures of me, ugly bruises etc. One of the teachers that I assist came by this evening. I'm so grateful to know so many people who are so generous with time and concern. Especially in this very busy month.

I'm hoping I'll learn more patience because it's my impatience which gives me the most pain.



... update Dec. 16
I'm feeling so blessed in a laid up, banged up sort of way. My therapy sessions were good .. I didn't misbehave and I worked hard ... feeling the burn. Then suddenly I got moved to a new room! It's private and has more room for my equipment. And visitors no longer have to sit on the commode .. I've got a few chairs. My lawyer came by and made me feel that things would wind up OK .. a long time down the road, but OK. Then came Dave the good singer from church. It's nice to have the time to better know people I know by sight.

NEW ROOM NUMBER 3128
NEW PHONE 410-219-1329

Tomorrow, I hope to get things together to wrap presents during occupational therapy. When people are fretting about Christmas preparations, I think I might win the prize. I won't even be able to go home for weeks and weeks. But I had done most of my "shopping" before Thanksgiving.

Dec. 17
I still haven't wrapped presents. I missed OT because of intestinal cramps. But I think I haggled myself permission to use the commode with non-therapist staff.
Huge news of the day is that I have more surgery coming up on Friday. Good new is that it should not set me back to square one on recovery. There a lot of misplaced bone fragment near the achilles tendon that would cause arthritis later. Dr. wants to "smush" them into the right place. Smush is a medical term.
My son brought me some clothes and spread my great get well and Christmas cards around. It really cheers me up to see them.


Dec. 18
here is a call for help. I have a whole lot of forms to fill out and could use some help doing the pen work. PT and oT have just about wiped me out today.




This afternoon the therapy folks brought cookies to my room. They didn't have to do that and could have insisted I take the wheel chir to them. So I am thrilled and have a twinge of good ol American traditional Christmas spirit. Maybe all Ebineezer Scrooge needed was a cookie. God Bless us! Every one!

dec 19 Operation today. I'm back in the tcu with the private room. dr has clout.

Dec. 20 Last night's pain was the worst I can remember, but then we don't really remember pain do we? Today the Kim's brought me some wonderful noodles. Korean food is both hearty and healthy. I also had visits from the Replogles, my "designated social worker" Connie, and a call from my vice principal. My pastor drove all the way to Pittsville to deliver a present to my mentee, who was delighted. I feel so very well cared for.

Dec. 21 - actually it's 4 AM on the 22nd. I am not in pain! and I asked my nurse what pain medicines I've had since early afternoon and he said I haven't had any. Yesterday was full of progress. Finally I got my hair washed. A nice guy from OT did it. My PT person gave me great help with the wheel chair and good exercise too. I have so much strengthening to do. I had great visitors! Gareth and Seth came by, Melesa and Rob Canfield, Judy Meyers brought real flowering camelias, Julia brought me goodies that included gingerbread and the flavor of Christmas, and Connie brought me a violin motif arrangement. By the time Carol Replogle called to check in, I had gone to bed early.

i had asked to transfer to my bed after i had finished lunch. thy said i had to wait half an hour after eating. i asked if i was swimming. they didn't like that comment and i had to wait over an hour. i hate silliness. it was the first meal i'd had out of bed.

Today I am determined to work on personal stuff. I am feeling overwhelmed about it already. My son has been looking for my car title stuff. My car was paid for more than 4 years ago and I have nice folder - somewhere.
Memo to self - ask Connie her life story.

later...My grandma was proposed to on the longest night of the year - the winter solstice. So it was neat to share that info with my OT who had a new big diamond and was walking on air today.

I did a good bit of phone work and learned where I would be next, and found out my health insurance premium payments during my unpaid leave were about 1/10 what I had expected. What good news!

My wheel chair stamina - sitting and rolling - just about doubled today.

Dec. 23 - father's birthday and i remember interviewing my grandmother about the blessed event. Martha Usilton brought a poinsettia that has a rather unique kind of red, looks painted on. Joni brought me envelopes and stamps. Carol R. called and we talked about all sorts of stuff, shared family histories. Good day for exercise, went to bed early again, but got up early for starters. Gareth and Seth came by. Seth and I are urging Gareth to take some sabbath time.

Dec. 24 - I got a call from my cousin - a son of the other twin in the picture. It has been a good day. Did paperwork while listening to lute music on Pandora. Next month I'll be roughing it - no way to plug my computer into the net. The place has a room that has some desktops, so i may blog a bit. Catch up reading here I come. Looks like I'll be back in a tiny space again.

Dec.26 - If one can be considered busy while moving in slow motion that's me today. I washed labels over the coffee cups I gave to the therapy staff (along with fair trade coffee which I, in turn, bum in the morning). My son found my car title (in a box labeled old files) and I made some progress toward getting a new car. Now I've got my legs up in bed and am watching House.

Dec. 28 - Morning finds me not so much full of self pity as annoyed or disgruntled. I'm tired of waking up with casts immobilizing my left side and unable to wash parts of my body or go to the toilet without company. I also can't find ways to be more independent except to keep developing my muscles.

I'm grateful for the cheerful crew in morning therapy and the coffee they make (Union Victoria Guatemalan coffee!). Maybe we're all cheerful because we're all taking Oxycontin, but it's nice to be social. I'm not a terribly social person at work, but I miss the interaction I have.

Someone taught me a neat card trick yesterday. I spent much of yesterday trying to figure out the math behind it. Started to make a spread sheet to show the possibilities. Writing functions helped me see the relationships. I think what made the trick seem so amazing is that there are both ordinal and cardinal numbers to consider.

I got to show the card trick to a nurse a then to a fourth grade teacher friend (who brought oranges!). If you wish to see it, bring a deck of cards when you visit.

I'll be working on origami projects in the coming month.

As I write this I'm hoping to see a friend who's just had knee surgery. Also praying for his recovery.

I'll be moving to the Salisbury Center nursing facility (known as Genisis) tomorrow, New Year's Eve. I am in 517 (which is as far away from the computer room as can be).
It's time to close this blog entry and start a new one called "nursing home". Click here to continue.

Waiting

One of my favorite bloggers remarked on the events of a few days ago, black Friday, as an instance of the need for waiting, and specifically, waiting on God.  I've never understood Black Friday, maybe because I'm an INTJ which classifies me as highly independent and an introvert. "Hey let's go join a huge crowd and buy what everyone else wants." No thanks. But the importance of waiting applies to me as well. I would like to be relieved of pain yesterday. I feel I have a right to eat sweets every day.  I want my friends and family to be immediately enthused about my ideas.  I want my students to follow my directions the first time -- actually that's one of my classroom rules which I would find hard to give up ... it prevents me from doing the broken record thing.

Psalm 37:

7 Rest in the LORD and wait patiently for Him; Do not fret because of him who prospers in his way, Because of the man who carries out wicked schemes. 8.Cease from anger and forsake wrath; Do not fret; it leads only to evildoing.

Today I have gratitude for the music teacher who taught me to sing that psalm in a song, O Rest in the Lord from Mendelssohn's Elijah. And thanks as well, to Mendelssohn who also wrote the melody for "Hark the Herald". Which takes me around the circle to the words of the great satirist Tom Lehrer

Hark the herald tribune sings,
Advertising wondrous things.
God rest ye merry, merchants,
May you make the yuletide pay.
Angels we have heard on high
Tell us to go out and buy!

As with many of Lehrer's topics, over the years they have worsened into tragedy.

Thank you President Carter

An email friend tells me about her day of giving - items for a needy family and quilts for young mothers. And I'm thinking about the wonderful paradox that one's generosity increases one's own gratitude.

I have a quilt made by my great grandmother. It's pretty raggedy and perhaps I should find a way to get it mended, but it's so very comfortable and reminds me to be grateful for the family line that passed it to me.

I'm watching an old Charlie Rose interview with President Carter in 1999 - Carter unswerving in his love for the Bible teachings and his efforts for peace. He sees no difference between peace between individuals and peace between nations. A truly great man I am grateful for.

So there's my gratitude list for this evening- three people who I never met but who have had a wonderful impact on my life.

Lest we forget

Lest we forget.

I remember when I heard this live on WBAI before it had been recorded. Yeah, I'm old.

Morning gratitude

I really don't feel all that grateful this morning.  I had even forgotten that I intended to. I'm just feeling the general confusion of the morning of an unstructured day. I thought I do just one thing on the computer this morning before going back to sleep, but found myself again wandering around in cyberspace until I didn't feel like sleeping anymore. 

Fortunately my email had a blog comment to moderate and that reminded me of what I wrote yesterday. So that's gratitude number one. And having an unstructured day is gratitude number two. Which leads to me a thought of house cleaning so I won't be embarrassed when Ed comes to pick up my exercise bike to add to the school gym - so I'm grateful to have a coworker as pleasant and quietly witty as Ed ("I don't think anyone can describe me as 'rousing'"). And grateful that Bob hauled up my laundry bags yesterday and played my piano while he waited for his wife and didn't even look at the mess. And glad I can go swimming instead of using the exercise bike which I use as a clothes rack to dry my swim clothes. I'm starting to lose count now.

Grateful

I went to help out with the free Thanksgiving dinner that was offered by the three denominations on our block - Church of the Brethren, Lutheran, and Seventh Day Adventists. There were more helpers than there were eaters! Folks are saying that next year they should publicize more.

I did get in some friendly conversations and saw a guy from 12 step programs I haven't seen in a few years. He has some sort of mental disability that I can't identify ... seems to show very little affect and it's hard to understand his talking ... but he's sharp and thoughtful and once one can get through the talk problem, he's very pleasant to talk with.
He's not homeless, but certainly hard up and hits every free meal in town. He was telling me that the reason most people get kicked out of Christian Shelter was because they didn't want to sit through devotionals. He said "if that's the rule, I don't see why they can't do at least that little bit." I feel like that's the problem some of my high school students have ... it seems like they almost go out of their way to break some of the rules ... and some will be the homeless of the future.
Here's an article that encourages me to write a daily gratitude list. So what better day to start than today?
I'm grateful that I was taught to read.
I'm grateful to have drinkable water.
I'm grateful to live in a temperate climate.
I'm grateful that heat is included in my rent.
I'm grateful to have a childhood friend living nearby.

The picture above is of Kirk Douglas, I liked the picture before I knew it was of him. Now I like it even more.

Talking back in church

This topic has come up a few times in my recent life. I didn't realize it was special, but my current church "allows" talking during the Sunday worship service and that's pretty radical. Check out this posting on Christopher Webb's blog. (Webb's the new Renovaré president)