Thanks for Thanksgiving

"I know what this song is about, mom." Josh Groban's 'I'll Be Home For Christmas' was playing over the stereo just as the cheese I'd shredded was infusing into the green onions on the cutting board.

I looked up and waited for the inevitable but instead heard Jaden say:

"Heaven"


This book by Julie Marks has great illustrations.

The Needed Miracle

The author, Richard Bach, in his book: A Gift of Wings had a foreward to his work. He talked about being discouraged earlier in his writing career and on the day that "Early in the year that my Ford was reposseses I wrote a note to me across some calendar squares where a distant Bach might find it.

'How did you survive to this day? From here it looks like a miracle was needed. Did the Johnathon Seagull book get published? Any films? What totally unconcerned new projects? Is it all better and happier? What do you think of my fears? ' "

Then he signed it. And answered himself in the forward: " 'You survived because you decided against quitting when the battle wasn't much fun... that was the only miracle required. Yes, Johnathon finally was published. The film ideas and a few other you hadn't thought of, are just beginning. Please don't waster time worrying or being afraid.' "

I need to try that letter but in the mean time this is where I need to study and write.



I had to change the title of this post after coming across that line in Richard Bach's book that Bob loaned me from his library. In his first chapter he tried to answer why people flew. One reason was akin to how I felt when I first saw the Beechcraft. But I have to add 'cold' to that line because when I went into the hangar with Bob and Jaden I had was drawn to run my hand down the edge of the wing then grasp the propeller in my hand. And I wanted to cry. Why? I don't even fly or have flown other than commercial planes.

I also read in a book about Idaho Aviation history concerning Lindbergh's visit to Boise on September 4, 1927. The whole town was decorated with bunting and flags. Thousands were crowded in a big field waiting for him when "All at one there was heard the roar of a motor, and across the skyline flashed The Spirit of St. Louis."




Lindy was nicknamed "The Lone Eagle". (Watching an Eagle soar gives me chills too.)



Stopped at the light on Broadway and Skyline, I pondered heading over to Aeromark. The light turned green, I sped up and once I hit 35 an airplane on my right lined up for his approach into the airpor.

My heart skipped a beat.

He of course beat me but we ended up in the same place.




Jaden piloted here, I was co-pilot the other day.

"I like how Vampires Run"

Jaden's comment after watching Twilight clips.


He also likes to do this:

Pause this Prayer

The other night after finishing a book about a Tree never picked from a Christmas Tree farm, we talked about hopes and dreams. A picture from the storybook was exactly the kind of house I'd like to live in. It had a barn for airplanes. Jaden asked me to wait to buy it until he was 14. (when he could fly.)

Then we knelt for prayer and I mentioned of few of those dreams, Jaden looked up and said: "Can you pause this prayer?" He came back with an airplane and clutched it the rest of the prayer.

After seeing a movie on Saturday we walked home from our neighbors at dusk to the 'familiar sound of shovels scraping snow of the sidewalk.' I mentioned that to Jaden and he said I should put "that in my book."

Boxes

It is amazing what fun a box brings.

Last year Jaden and I spent hours making one into a home for his plush pet hamster, Nibbles. It had an upstairs with a slide for going down. We used paper towel rolls and light bulb containers for added fun.

We even made furniture. Play dough was contstructed into a couch, rug, wreath, and grand piano; dried and later painted.

The wreath hung outside Nibbles door with red yarn for garland strung outside, the rug was drawn up to the couch next to the grand piano. My contact container was his feeding bowl. A thimble set on the table for a vase.

Yesterday I had to throw it away. A year of fun had come down to a shabby looking box and we needed room for the other boxes that he uses. (One for an airstrip for planes to take off and another for random stabbing with a make shift wolverine claw.)

It was hard to take it out into the frigid temperatures and stuff into a cold garbage can. But nice to get the "clutter" out of the way to set up holiday decorations. Can't wait to see what boxes Santa brings us this year. Means we will have to find extra space for all the toys or figure out what this boy did in David Shannon's book. Too cute.

They Beat the RED team!

The first time we played the red team, they won. But they turned on the boys' minds to how the game is really played. It wasn't just an easy win to take for granted. Every game after that was so fun to watch. And today, their last game of the season, they beat the red team. And Jaden got a flag today. (he is usually blocking the big boys- but his little prayer was answered today. He shared the flag with Casen and later Jaden said: "we could have jump roped with it mom."

Once we got home he said: "You ready to play?" Play what? "Football."

These pics are from last week's game when I was working the elections.

Wild Geese

You do not have to be good
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile teh world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
voer the prairies and deep trees,
teh mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are deading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination.
Calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting-
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

Mary Oliver

Teaching With Fire

Yesterday between subbing and teaching the after school reading program, I picked up the book: Teaching With Fire" in the teacher's lounge.

A compilation of teacher's favorite poem's and their insights that help them find the courage to continue. So I took off my heels and cozied up on the couch for the spare hour I had and filled my cup.

Here are the notes I scrawled in a notebook to preserve:

"I don't remember precisely what my teacher's taught me in grade school, but I remember the realationshiops I had with them and thier individual charcters." (p.26)

"Every pair of eyes facing you has probably experienced something you could not endure." Lucille Clifton (p. 58 shared by Maren MacCurdy)n

First Reader meant a lot to the teacher, Linda Lantieri, who worked with young children whose 'lives have been largely untouched by books and whose backgrounds are amazingly diverse'. The last line of the poem she loves says: ".. we were forgetting how to look, learning how to read." by Billy Collins. See the whole poem online.





"Your very flesh shall be a great poem." Walt Whitman

Dream Deferred


What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up
like a raisen in the sun

Or fester like a sore-
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
OR crust and sugar over-
like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.

OR does it explode? Langston Hughes

I am seeing the inception of these little explosions and witnessing some of these kids already there...

"As teachers we feel the children in our classrooms become part of our lives. We witness them growing , learning, and becoming. Sometimes we witness and expereince their tragedies as well."




Fueled

Fueled by a million
man-mad
wings of fire
the rocket tore a tunnel
through the sky
and everbody cheered.
Fueled
only by a thougth from God
the seedling
urged its way
through thckness of black-
as it pierced
the heavy ceiling of the soil-
and launched itself
up into outer space
no
one
even
clapped. Marcie Hans

Al Zolyneas referring to a line that he had experienced toward his students: "And it hits me out of nowhere - a sudden, sweet, almost painful love for my students." (Love in the Classroom for my students.)

I have had that feeling hit me and it is painful. It makes me want to be the kind of teacher that feels like a shoe that fits, a warn coat that zips easily to put on for recess,

A teacher that exudes the shine of being scrubbed in a tub of warm water and lathered in yummy smelling lotion. Hair free of lice so that it is not a distraction to learn, and I could go on and on. But that is what comes to me this morning.

Election Gratitude

So last night's bad attitude melted away when I was at the polls.

The day started with a sweet view between two booths of a bald eagle. Perched a top a dead tree close to the river. it stood sentinel on the tips of the wind blown branches that eerily reached upward like the palm of a hand the fingers pointing to the sky. Looked ready to hold an apple, instead an eagle magestically watching. A smaller one showed up later and then they never returned.

Thanks to people like the blind man that came at the last minute, the man who had to have the ballot taken to his car because he is so close to death, but has never missed in 30 years. Chuck told me about his service in the marines during the Korean and Vietnam Wars.

It was worth the 14 hours. And thanks that Jaden can read so he can do his homework with out mom there the whole time. Miracles all around.

Election Eve

Ugh

West Piney Girl's Camp

Initiation

A long silver slide runs from the front door of the large log house down the hill of West Piney Girl's Camp.

Close to 100 hundred steps had to be ascended in order to sit on a square piece of carpet and whisk down at a reckless speed.

Each summer we would attend girls camp at the end of August and take day hikes to locations such as Table Rock, The Monument, and others.

My fourth year of camp we decided to ‘initiate’ each new yearling. One part of it was feeding them bad tasting baby food and smearing their faces with the left over orange pumpkin and squash.

One afternoon etc., put bugs in their shoes outside their tents, and polished up on Grizzly Bear stories. We chuckled at this little initiation process.

On the last night we sat around the camp fire; faces glowing an orange hue against a black backdrop, telling ghost stories. We told the newest members that we were going to take them on a hike up a trail on the opposite side of the camp. It was a fairly good incline up the mountain.

Reaching the trail required walking down the sloped hill that held our tents in places and crossing wood bridge painted brown. A small stream gurgled with the help of several large rocks underneath.

Flashlights dancing up the hill like fireflies I suddenly turned to my friend Rebecca with a great idea I had concocted: “Becca,” I Grinch-ishly said, “we should hide underneath the bridge and then knock on it when the girls come back down the trail. Wouldn’t that be hilarious?” We chuckled as we held back slowly from the rest of the group.

(The story of the fable ‘the billy goat’s gruff’ coming to mind?)

We turned off our flashlights as we fell back behind the group and groped our way in the dark; sliding underneath on our backs, balancing on the rocks precariously strewn above the water. Trying to muffle our laughs, we listened to the sound of the water rushing below and shivered in the night. Between the water and being anxious to scare the girls I held onto a full bladder. The distant sound of the girls meandering up the trail wafted through the dark air.

It was at this time that I began to think about the possibility of what lived under the thick over hanging,like a bat. I stated this thought out loud to my partner in crime and simultaneously turned on my flashlight.

On cue several bats or some other unknown black winged animal flew into our faces! In a huge disarray; we scurried and scraped our backs against the rocks, trying to shimmy out from underneath the bridge. Screams alerted the campers on the trail and they came running.
Once to the top of the bridge; having danced in a few circles; we fell in a clump of fearful laughter out of breath. Once the yearlings reached us, we had been fully initiated.