I hope everyone reading this has had a good Christmas. I figure you are probably wrapped up (pun partially intended) in Christmas Eve activities, so Christmas day has probably passed. I am sitting here typing, because we have finished baking all the pies and cookies, veggie trays are chilling in the fridge, cheese logs and jello salads are just waiting to disappear, and everything has been wrapped, ribboned, placed under the tree ( and I should add), thoroughly inspected, shaken, measured, and re-placed.
SO, first things first!! MERRY CHRISTMAS AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR!!
Now, on to some memories. As I was sitting, watching the Christmas Devotional from Salt Lake, I had two treats. First, President Uchtdorf talking about the Christmas traditions of his homeland in Germany. I have shared these traditions with many students, and enjoyed the simple customs myself, so it was fun to hear them recounted. Then when President Eyring spoke, the memories of home came flooding back. I have lots of great memories of our homespun Christmas Nativity pageant, and I guess I was naive to think that only a few families in the Church ever did that.
I can't recall the first memory of our pageant. I just know that it has always been a part of my own Christmas memories. Every Christmas Eve, the family would gather for our big feast. As a kid, I thought this was the coolest thing! We didn't have a big fancy meal (by other people's standards). We had a huge spread of our favorite snack crackers, jello salads, nuts, veggie platters and dip, chips, cookies, homemade cheese logs, etc. We also have our favorite Christmas "wassail", ours being the orange juice based version. (especially good when slurped hot through a broken candy-cane. try this at home, just be patient, it takes a few seconds to get anything past the peppermint)
I don't recall if Mom was pregnant with Janet, Cindy or Kathy when this tradition started, but she was not feeling up to a big meal, and decided that snacks and jello salads were something that she could tackle with the help of the oldest kids. It was such a hit, that it has become our Christmas Eve traditional meal. I'm sure it changed a bit over the years, but ours is still very close to those boyhood meals.
After the big meal, the kids would basically disappear into the bedrooms to prepare for our important part of the Chritstmas celebration. We would hand out roles for the Nativity pageant, which would take place in the front room for our devoted audience of Dad, Mom and Grandma Buckley. I don't remember what part I was given the year I fussed so much about wanting to be one of the "wise-guys". It was probably a shepherd or even a sheep. Costumes were not elaborate, but I must have thought the Jello-mold crowns were pretty cool. We had shepherds in towels and bathrobes (until the year Mom and Dad went to Israel one summer, then they were authentic headwear), wise men (and girls) wore fancier fabrics from Mom's sewing stash, and copper jello-molds, or stainless steel bowls for crowns. Angels were draped in white and garnished with tinsel and garlands. Joseph and Mary were robed simply in old soft blankets, and a doll usually filled the role of Christchild.
We would have our narrator (doubled as the Angel of the Lord, usually) read out of Luke chapter 2. The narration was sprinkled with appropriately placed Christmas hymns, and some more secular (although still appropriate) christmas songs, sung by Dad and Mom's own little (but growing) choir of "angels". We added key parts of the story as outlined in Matthew ch. 1, and always included key events taking place in this hemisphere, as given in 3 Nephi ch. 1.
I remember doing the nativity twice the year Tyler and Garret were born, so that each of them could be the Christchild. Tyler and Garrett just got home from missions! Michelle and I played the roles of Mary and Joseph with Justin as the baby Jesus when he was 4 weeks old. (can you believe he is 19 and getting ready to go on a mission??)
It was a beautiful way to remember the real reason we celebrate this season, and it gave me a great appreciation of the humble beginnings of our Savior's life. I have always felt that my family traditions have helped establish a firm foundation in the Gospel of Jesus Christ. I can only hope that I pass these same tradtions on to my own children, and maybe, through sharing, others may come to a better relationship with their Savior as well.
May you all have a truly blessed Christmas season, and a joyous and prosperous 2009!!
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Friday, December 19, 2008
Update on Snow!, and misc.
I have to say, I may have painted an inaccurate picture of snow in Arkansas. I hope no one thought that our weather is like that more often than not. Or that we shut down at the first sign of white stuff.
I think the issue of snow days is really that we are not used to this stuff. Those of us who live, or have lived in colder and wetter climates.......(.okay, colder, Arkansas is technically a rain-forest region, based on avg. annual rainfall), have seen snow and ice that would bring Arkansas to a screaming and painful halt. I have driven through snow that is deep enough to create "door angel wings", even on the freeway. Those in the North-east have seen ice and sleet that I can only imagine.
The major difference in shutting down a state is our preparation or lack thereof. We only see one or two bad storms a year, and sometimes they are not so bad. So we do not devote much of our energy or money to preparing for such an event. We devote more energy to flooding issues, or preparing for tornadoes. These are the weather events that we face. If people in NY had a tornado, Arkansans would laugh at how bad people freaked out. Here, we are the butt of any jokes related to school closures for a mere inch of snow or sleet.
Oh, well, in California they also do earthquake drills.
NOW TO SHARE A FUNNEIR THOUGHT!!
We had a great day at school today (Dec. 19), preparing to go home for the Christmas Holidays. As more and more students we called over the intercom, I noticed that the office staff started referring to the "new office". We have been renovating the school this year. More accurately, we have been renovating part of the old building. Last year we opened a new campus, but have worked and taught around construction. The construction is nearly over.
Something about the new office reminded me of some funny language mistakes I have heard, seen and made over the years. The Office has a sliding door, and talking about it with other teachers reminded me of my time in Switzerland.
:) When my missionary companion was transferred from my first area, he went to Germany, and the best way from our location was to take a ferry across the Bodensee (Lake Constance for us Anglos). We went together, because my new companion was coming on that ferry from another location. While riding the ferry back across the lake, one of the younger missionaries wanted to go inside. He stepped up to the door and pushed, and pushed, to no avail. Trying to stay "cool", he started to pull. And pull, and pull. Apparently finding this amusing, a small kid, probably 6-7 walked over, pointed to a sign and read outloud, "schieben"while SLIDING the door open for our flustered friend. :)
:) Another time, while working our way through a farming community, my companion and I had decided to work our language skills by including some weather-related comment in each conversation we started. It was my turn, and the old farmer that opened the door was very pleasant and patient. I introduced myself, and stating that I had come all the way from America to share an important message, I mentioned how much I liked the country, its beautiful mountains, the friendly people, and how green and lovely everything was. It was a pretty morning, with light clouds and a hanging fog that just seems to grip[ the trees, but in the sunlight is very stiking. People in Arkansas should be able to picture this. we have these mornings quite often.
I commented about the beautiful "mist" hanging in the trees, and immediately knew I had said something wrong. My comp started snickering, and the old farmer broke into a huge grin, and then they both started laughing as the man took me by the shoulders, walked me over to the corner of the farmhouse, and pointing down the side to the barn and the huge manure pile said (translated) "that right there, that's "mist"! :)
:) A later memory has to do with temperature. I was training a new missionary, and we had been invited to the Bishop's house for dinner. For those unfamiliar, Bishop is the title for the leader of our church congregations called wards. In other circles he would be called minister, priest, rabbi, etc.
Anyway, the Bishop had 3 children as I recall. 2 teenage daughters, and a preteen son. To set this up, I have to comment that the daughters were both rather good looking. I was talking with the Dad, and my comp was talking with the kids while mom finished putting things in bowls to bring out to the table. It was a warm day near the end of summer. All I remember is hearing my comp finish something with "ich bin sehr heiss".
The reaction was slow-motion and hilarious. Dad and I paused, then had to fight back the smiles. The daughters were turning a shade of beet-red and looking shocked. Brother was sucking air in like someone had punched him. Mom, who had come in the room at just the wrong moment, stopped in shock, dropped a plate of rolls, and looked like she was trying to decide whether or not to breathe.
The joke is that in German saying "Es ist mir warm" means (I'm in need of a cool breeze). "Ich bin heiss" translates essentially as (I'm really hot, ready to go, feeling frisky, etc.).
The two girls took a few weeks before they would really talk to my comp again. Mom never was quite as friendly as she had been. :)
I think the issue of snow days is really that we are not used to this stuff. Those of us who live, or have lived in colder and wetter climates.......(.okay, colder, Arkansas is technically a rain-forest region, based on avg. annual rainfall), have seen snow and ice that would bring Arkansas to a screaming and painful halt. I have driven through snow that is deep enough to create "door angel wings", even on the freeway. Those in the North-east have seen ice and sleet that I can only imagine.
The major difference in shutting down a state is our preparation or lack thereof. We only see one or two bad storms a year, and sometimes they are not so bad. So we do not devote much of our energy or money to preparing for such an event. We devote more energy to flooding issues, or preparing for tornadoes. These are the weather events that we face. If people in NY had a tornado, Arkansans would laugh at how bad people freaked out. Here, we are the butt of any jokes related to school closures for a mere inch of snow or sleet.
Oh, well, in California they also do earthquake drills.
NOW TO SHARE A FUNNEIR THOUGHT!!
We had a great day at school today (Dec. 19), preparing to go home for the Christmas Holidays. As more and more students we called over the intercom, I noticed that the office staff started referring to the "new office". We have been renovating the school this year. More accurately, we have been renovating part of the old building. Last year we opened a new campus, but have worked and taught around construction. The construction is nearly over.
Something about the new office reminded me of some funny language mistakes I have heard, seen and made over the years. The Office has a sliding door, and talking about it with other teachers reminded me of my time in Switzerland.
:) When my missionary companion was transferred from my first area, he went to Germany, and the best way from our location was to take a ferry across the Bodensee (Lake Constance for us Anglos). We went together, because my new companion was coming on that ferry from another location. While riding the ferry back across the lake, one of the younger missionaries wanted to go inside. He stepped up to the door and pushed, and pushed, to no avail. Trying to stay "cool", he started to pull. And pull, and pull. Apparently finding this amusing, a small kid, probably 6-7 walked over, pointed to a sign and read outloud, "schieben"while SLIDING the door open for our flustered friend. :)
:) Another time, while working our way through a farming community, my companion and I had decided to work our language skills by including some weather-related comment in each conversation we started. It was my turn, and the old farmer that opened the door was very pleasant and patient. I introduced myself, and stating that I had come all the way from America to share an important message, I mentioned how much I liked the country, its beautiful mountains, the friendly people, and how green and lovely everything was. It was a pretty morning, with light clouds and a hanging fog that just seems to grip[ the trees, but in the sunlight is very stiking. People in Arkansas should be able to picture this. we have these mornings quite often.
I commented about the beautiful "mist" hanging in the trees, and immediately knew I had said something wrong. My comp started snickering, and the old farmer broke into a huge grin, and then they both started laughing as the man took me by the shoulders, walked me over to the corner of the farmhouse, and pointing down the side to the barn and the huge manure pile said (translated) "that right there, that's "mist"! :)
:) A later memory has to do with temperature. I was training a new missionary, and we had been invited to the Bishop's house for dinner. For those unfamiliar, Bishop is the title for the leader of our church congregations called wards. In other circles he would be called minister, priest, rabbi, etc.
Anyway, the Bishop had 3 children as I recall. 2 teenage daughters, and a preteen son. To set this up, I have to comment that the daughters were both rather good looking. I was talking with the Dad, and my comp was talking with the kids while mom finished putting things in bowls to bring out to the table. It was a warm day near the end of summer. All I remember is hearing my comp finish something with "ich bin sehr heiss".
The reaction was slow-motion and hilarious. Dad and I paused, then had to fight back the smiles. The daughters were turning a shade of beet-red and looking shocked. Brother was sucking air in like someone had punched him. Mom, who had come in the room at just the wrong moment, stopped in shock, dropped a plate of rolls, and looked like she was trying to decide whether or not to breathe.
The joke is that in German saying "Es ist mir warm" means (I'm in need of a cool breeze). "Ich bin heiss" translates essentially as (I'm really hot, ready to go, feeling frisky, etc.).
The two girls took a few weeks before they would really talk to my comp again. Mom never was quite as friendly as she had been. :)
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Snow Days!! (Arkansas style)
This topic is a cause for celebration from many a school age child! That magical announcement that comes, sometimes quickly, sometimes way too slowly. That 'moment of truth', when the ever-powerful, and annoyingly slow "they" (that is, the school district administrators) announce what all of the rest of us see as the inevitable.
"They" have announced that, due to the weather, school will be:
..dismissed early today, bus routes will be reduced to 'inclement weather policy'
...cancelled for tomorrow (or whatever)
...2 hour delayed start
Or Whatever!! we have all been watching the weather! We KNOW what is coming, and that it would be 'dangerous', 'irresponsible', or maybe just highly annoying for them to NOT cancel school. As my own children and my students are adding in their own minds......"especially on a day we were all going to be taking tests:)"
Yes, there is cause for some celebration! For some, it is the timing. Could it be more perfect? School cancelled on the day before semester tests begin, knowing that if a student has earned exemption from those tests, this counts as the first day of Christmas break! (yes! I called it CHRISTMAS break!! Not sorry, not following the PC line.)
For others, it is the first significant winter weather, and that in and of itself is important. My own children look forward to the first snow with great anticipation. I myself don't enjoy snowfall for the same reasons as my kids, but I enjoy the quiet whisper of falling snow. The softly whistling wind (hopefully), and the calming glow that happens as every stray bit of light is reflected in a million softly falling flakes. KNowing that the only reason anyone would expect me to go out is to take care of those essential farm systems and checks that keep our farm running. Otherwise, I can sit and read a book, or work online, or read e-mail, or just "veg" in front of a movie.
I like playing in REAL snow for short periods, but I enjoy the "snowbound" life even better. A big mug of hot chocolate, maybe baking some cookies, even playing video games with the kids. Or the soup! Yes, I said "the soup"!!
At my house, winter weather is our favorite time to put on a big pot of soup. And I mean BIG! Michelle and I use one of those 5 gallon soup pots, and I like to go at least 1/2 to 3/4 full when I cook soup. I guess I could say (should anyone be surprised?) that our house favorite is chicken dumplings. Yes, we have access to chicken. Our big pot usually fills up with about 12-15 big spuds, a package of carrots, several onions, whatever celery we have in the house, spices, etc., and 3-5 lbs. of diced chicken. And as anyone in our family would tell you. The best thing about a big pot of dumplings is that there is more for later, and it just gets better each time you add to it and reheat it.
Speaking of which, it is time to eat, and a big bowl of chicken dumplings is sounding really good!!
"They" have announced that, due to the weather, school will be:
..dismissed early today, bus routes will be reduced to 'inclement weather policy'
...cancelled for tomorrow (or whatever)
...2 hour delayed start
Or Whatever!! we have all been watching the weather! We KNOW what is coming, and that it would be 'dangerous', 'irresponsible', or maybe just highly annoying for them to NOT cancel school. As my own children and my students are adding in their own minds......"especially on a day we were all going to be taking tests:)"
Yes, there is cause for some celebration! For some, it is the timing. Could it be more perfect? School cancelled on the day before semester tests begin, knowing that if a student has earned exemption from those tests, this counts as the first day of Christmas break! (yes! I called it CHRISTMAS break!! Not sorry, not following the PC line.)
For others, it is the first significant winter weather, and that in and of itself is important. My own children look forward to the first snow with great anticipation. I myself don't enjoy snowfall for the same reasons as my kids, but I enjoy the quiet whisper of falling snow. The softly whistling wind (hopefully), and the calming glow that happens as every stray bit of light is reflected in a million softly falling flakes. KNowing that the only reason anyone would expect me to go out is to take care of those essential farm systems and checks that keep our farm running. Otherwise, I can sit and read a book, or work online, or read e-mail, or just "veg" in front of a movie.
Well, I said this was SNOW DAY ARKANSAS STYLE! The anticipation is there, the joy in missing school happens, but some of the other stuff.....well, let's just say that softly falling snow is less common. The stuff around here that is more likely to cause school closures and those at- home-times is sleet or ice. Pretty in its way, but more accurately described as pretty treacherous. It falls fast and hard (stings like crazy on bare necks and ears when walking outdoors to handle farm chores, so bundle up.), and takes very little time to cover things in a "blanket" of tiny little ice balls. Once accumulated, driving is iffy at best. Cars that have had time to sit, usually require a hefty tug-o-war just to get doors open, and windshields, window-wipers and mirrors are useless if you don't have 1. A good scraper, 2. some decent chemical de-icer, and/or 3. a really good defrost sytem in your car.
Roads or driveways that are sloped can become impassible very quickly. Imagine the effect of tiny ball-bearings made of ice. One year, Bob and I couldn't get to our job at Skil because the sleet had coated our driveway to a point that nothing short of tanktreads would make it up his driveway. ( to illustrate, we walked to all our farm houses, but had to drive screws through the soles of our boots to have enough traction to even do that.) strap on Ice spikes for shoes are not readily available in most of the stores I've looked in.
I like playing in REAL snow for short periods, but I enjoy the "snowbound" life even better. A big mug of hot chocolate, maybe baking some cookies, even playing video games with the kids. Or the soup! Yes, I said "the soup"!!
At my house, winter weather is our favorite time to put on a big pot of soup. And I mean BIG! Michelle and I use one of those 5 gallon soup pots, and I like to go at least 1/2 to 3/4 full when I cook soup. I guess I could say (should anyone be surprised?) that our house favorite is chicken dumplings. Yes, we have access to chicken. Our big pot usually fills up with about 12-15 big spuds, a package of carrots, several onions, whatever celery we have in the house, spices, etc., and 3-5 lbs. of diced chicken. And as anyone in our family would tell you. The best thing about a big pot of dumplings is that there is more for later, and it just gets better each time you add to it and reheat it.
Speaking of which, it is time to eat, and a big bowl of chicken dumplings is sounding really good!!
Saturday, December 13, 2008
On a more serious note!
This has been a hard week for us! One of the men in our Branch (that's what we call a small congregation in our Church) had a massive heart attack the Sunday before Thanksgiving. His situation has led to some deep and reflective thinking.
Without giving too much detail, I do want to share some of the main ideas that he and I have talked about this past week. By the way, I should say that it is good that we have talked. The day I heard of his plight, he was already on the respirator and drugged pretty heavily before I had time to get to the hospital. That is one of the disadvantages of living so many miles from the places where we do things. I like living out here in the middle of the woods, and I can even say that I find satisfaction in the farming work. But sometimes, driving 30-65 miles to take care of either school or church events gets a bit troublesome. Especially when work is 60 miles one direction, and church is about 30 miles the opposite direction from our house.
Anyway, our friend was in no condition to talk when I got there. He had so many tubes in him, he was hard to recognize, and obviously, talking was out of the question for him. He opened his eyes when I spoke, but it was unsure if he really knew what was going on, or if he recognized me.
The next time I came back, he seemed more responsive, but still tubed up, and no talking. I feel like he knew what was going on, though, because he started to get teary-eyed when I said I needed to leave. He shook his head ever so slightly, so I just couldn't leave. The prognosis was not good, and they were just trying to stabilize him enough to transfer to a hospital in Little Rock, but the staff didn't think he would reach a point where transfer would be possible.
Two agonizing days later, the family decided to take him off the respirator, and leave the rest in our Heavenly Father's hands. I made a point to go visit him as soon as I could. He had been off the machines for about 6 hours by the time I got to the hospital, so he was talking just a bit. Breathing was his major activity. He was still not doing well, and as we visited, I realized how well he understood his situation. He said if he made it through the night, he would probably make it for at least a few days more.
The next words out of his mouth, however, are a tribute to his dedication and sense of duty. He has a responsibility of making our weekly bulletins for church. He has been doing this for many years, as it is one of few things his overall health (and that of his wife) would allow. He brings a wonderful spirit to our meetings even on the weeks he is not present, by the thoughts and scriptures he shares in the bulletin.
After commenting on how important the morning would be for his outlook, he asked me to have sister H come to see him the next morning (strong faith, huh?), so that he could explain to her where all of his materials and copies were for the next 3 weeks bulletins. That's dedication!
They finally got him stable enough to transfer to the specialist in LR on Monday, but by Thursday, they had sent him back to Batesville. Surgery was just not in the picture, and there was no good reason to keep him in LR. He and his wife are now situated in a nursing care facility.
When I visited with them today, we talked for some time about the things in life that bring real joy. We spoke also about the importance of keeping an open line of communication with God. My friend "L" knows that he is living on borrowed time, but then again, aren't we all? If we put our relationship with our family and our Heavenly Father in proper order, reaching the end of this life doesn't have to be a scary thing. We commented on the simple truth stated in a country song my daughter likes. "everybody wants to go to Heaven, but noboby wants to go now!"
Our friend 'L" may stick around for a awhile, yet, but when his time comes, he has his priorities in place. He only wants to go knowing that he hasn't left anything undone here that Heavenly Father wants him to do, and he asked again today that someone be called to take over on the bulletins in the event that he is no longer able. Still wanting to make sure that his responsibility is managed. :)
It is comforting to know that death is only a temporary goodbye, not a permanent, that is eternal, change.
Without giving too much detail, I do want to share some of the main ideas that he and I have talked about this past week. By the way, I should say that it is good that we have talked. The day I heard of his plight, he was already on the respirator and drugged pretty heavily before I had time to get to the hospital. That is one of the disadvantages of living so many miles from the places where we do things. I like living out here in the middle of the woods, and I can even say that I find satisfaction in the farming work. But sometimes, driving 30-65 miles to take care of either school or church events gets a bit troublesome. Especially when work is 60 miles one direction, and church is about 30 miles the opposite direction from our house.
Anyway, our friend was in no condition to talk when I got there. He had so many tubes in him, he was hard to recognize, and obviously, talking was out of the question for him. He opened his eyes when I spoke, but it was unsure if he really knew what was going on, or if he recognized me.
The next time I came back, he seemed more responsive, but still tubed up, and no talking. I feel like he knew what was going on, though, because he started to get teary-eyed when I said I needed to leave. He shook his head ever so slightly, so I just couldn't leave. The prognosis was not good, and they were just trying to stabilize him enough to transfer to a hospital in Little Rock, but the staff didn't think he would reach a point where transfer would be possible.
Two agonizing days later, the family decided to take him off the respirator, and leave the rest in our Heavenly Father's hands. I made a point to go visit him as soon as I could. He had been off the machines for about 6 hours by the time I got to the hospital, so he was talking just a bit. Breathing was his major activity. He was still not doing well, and as we visited, I realized how well he understood his situation. He said if he made it through the night, he would probably make it for at least a few days more.
The next words out of his mouth, however, are a tribute to his dedication and sense of duty. He has a responsibility of making our weekly bulletins for church. He has been doing this for many years, as it is one of few things his overall health (and that of his wife) would allow. He brings a wonderful spirit to our meetings even on the weeks he is not present, by the thoughts and scriptures he shares in the bulletin.
After commenting on how important the morning would be for his outlook, he asked me to have sister H come to see him the next morning (strong faith, huh?), so that he could explain to her where all of his materials and copies were for the next 3 weeks bulletins. That's dedication!
They finally got him stable enough to transfer to the specialist in LR on Monday, but by Thursday, they had sent him back to Batesville. Surgery was just not in the picture, and there was no good reason to keep him in LR. He and his wife are now situated in a nursing care facility.
When I visited with them today, we talked for some time about the things in life that bring real joy. We spoke also about the importance of keeping an open line of communication with God. My friend "L" knows that he is living on borrowed time, but then again, aren't we all? If we put our relationship with our family and our Heavenly Father in proper order, reaching the end of this life doesn't have to be a scary thing. We commented on the simple truth stated in a country song my daughter likes. "everybody wants to go to Heaven, but noboby wants to go now!"
Our friend 'L" may stick around for a awhile, yet, but when his time comes, he has his priorities in place. He only wants to go knowing that he hasn't left anything undone here that Heavenly Father wants him to do, and he asked again today that someone be called to take over on the bulletins in the event that he is no longer able. Still wanting to make sure that his responsibility is managed. :)
It is comforting to know that death is only a temporary goodbye, not a permanent, that is eternal, change.
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Blowing things up!
This post is a request from many curious teenage minds, but before I start, I have to offer 2 disclaimers.
1--These are my memories. This is the way I remember the events I am about to describe, as crazy as some may sound. If any of you reading have more specifics (like the fishy backyard thing from Magna), I encourage your input so that these stories may be as accurate as possible. These stories are embellished for entertainment effect, but I am trying not to add any embellishment to the actual events.
2--I do not encourage any of these activities. I recognize, even in the telling, that these represent some of the stupid things I did as a teenager, that could have landed me in legal trouble, if not the hospital (or morgue). I claim no responsibility, should any of my younger readers play stupid, and attempt any of these activities. (DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME!!)
I have to add a #3--Mom, Dad, sorry! I didn't think you "needed" to know about these as I was growing up, so I hope you simply enjoy them for the "entertainment". And please remember: Like the "Swiss Ice-hole" incident, I am still here to write this, and (hopefully) much the wiser for the experience.
Okay, that all said, here is the story of helping a friend blow up a truck.
One of my school friends, we'll call him "D" had an old beater truck. A chevy LUV. Some of you may even remember those. It was a piece of junk, and getting to a point where he just wanted to get rid of it. He couldn't sell it, and keeping it would have been impractical.
He decided to blow it up. I should comment, "D" was probably my most 'different' friend. Most of my group were pretty straight-laced. Our major prank of stealing a classroom (see one of my ealier posts) was really harmless, and about the most serious thing we ever did together. None of us got much into drinking, only one started smoking, and nearly all of us were active in our respective churches. We had reps of each of these following churches: Catholic, Baptist, Mormon, Jehovah's Witness, Episcopal, Methodist, and Jewish. "D", on the other hand, didn't go to church much, as far as I know. He dabbled in drugs, mostly stuff like pot, but he was still in tight with our group of friends.
Now, back to the explosion decision. "D" was a subscriber to the earlier versions of Newsletters aimed at pyromaniacs and "baby terrorists". ( the kind of kids who like to play with chemicals, and see what they can make blow up, burst into flames of different colors, create cool smoke, etc.). He had found a recipe for a concoction that would work like a time bomb. Certain easily available chemicals, injected into a pingpong ball would take about 2-3 minutes to achieve enough heat to both melt the ball and potentially create combustion.
So, the plan....Drive this beater out to the foothills around Breckenridge, or somewhere out between Comanche road and the mountains, find an empty field, and drop the ping-pong ball into the gas tank.
Well, several of us drove his truck and the "get away" cars out to a place behind some of the orange orchards, several miles outside of town. We were all just chatting and getting ready for the main event. "D" injected his chemicals into the ball, and had just dropped it into the gas tank opening, stopped short with a look of terror on his face, and said "oh sh--!!, I wasn't thinking, and I filled the gas tank on the way out here!! Run for it!!" :) :)
The fireball would have made Hollywood proud!
The drive back to town was very nerve-wracking, because we just knew the first emergency vehicle to pass us was going to know our involvement and chase us down. We managed to talk each other into driving calmly, as if nothing had happened. Good luck! The smoke plume was visible for several miles! About halfway back to town, sirens, flashing lights, pounding hearts! Whoosh! right past us!
Then came the second fire truck, followed closely by a sheriff's deputy. Whoosh! Whoosh!, still pounding hearts, and lots of anxious looks in the rearview mirrors. Somehow, we made it, and believe it or not, "D" had removed his license plates, and the fire must not have spread, because that is the last I know about that event. No phone calls, no police visits, just some great fireworks, and good heart exercise!! What a bunch of morons! But boy did we have some fun times!
ONE MORE TIME! DO NOT, DO NOT, DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME!! (without parental supervision?) :)
1--These are my memories. This is the way I remember the events I am about to describe, as crazy as some may sound. If any of you reading have more specifics (like the fishy backyard thing from Magna), I encourage your input so that these stories may be as accurate as possible. These stories are embellished for entertainment effect, but I am trying not to add any embellishment to the actual events.
2--I do not encourage any of these activities. I recognize, even in the telling, that these represent some of the stupid things I did as a teenager, that could have landed me in legal trouble, if not the hospital (or morgue). I claim no responsibility, should any of my younger readers play stupid, and attempt any of these activities. (DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME!!)
I have to add a #3--Mom, Dad, sorry! I didn't think you "needed" to know about these as I was growing up, so I hope you simply enjoy them for the "entertainment". And please remember: Like the "Swiss Ice-hole" incident, I am still here to write this, and (hopefully) much the wiser for the experience.
Okay, that all said, here is the story of helping a friend blow up a truck.
One of my school friends, we'll call him "D" had an old beater truck. A chevy LUV. Some of you may even remember those. It was a piece of junk, and getting to a point where he just wanted to get rid of it. He couldn't sell it, and keeping it would have been impractical.
He decided to blow it up. I should comment, "D" was probably my most 'different' friend. Most of my group were pretty straight-laced. Our major prank of stealing a classroom (see one of my ealier posts) was really harmless, and about the most serious thing we ever did together. None of us got much into drinking, only one started smoking, and nearly all of us were active in our respective churches. We had reps of each of these following churches: Catholic, Baptist, Mormon, Jehovah's Witness, Episcopal, Methodist, and Jewish. "D", on the other hand, didn't go to church much, as far as I know. He dabbled in drugs, mostly stuff like pot, but he was still in tight with our group of friends.
Now, back to the explosion decision. "D" was a subscriber to the earlier versions of Newsletters aimed at pyromaniacs and "baby terrorists". ( the kind of kids who like to play with chemicals, and see what they can make blow up, burst into flames of different colors, create cool smoke, etc.). He had found a recipe for a concoction that would work like a time bomb. Certain easily available chemicals, injected into a pingpong ball would take about 2-3 minutes to achieve enough heat to both melt the ball and potentially create combustion.
So, the plan....Drive this beater out to the foothills around Breckenridge, or somewhere out between Comanche road and the mountains, find an empty field, and drop the ping-pong ball into the gas tank.
Well, several of us drove his truck and the "get away" cars out to a place behind some of the orange orchards, several miles outside of town. We were all just chatting and getting ready for the main event. "D" injected his chemicals into the ball, and had just dropped it into the gas tank opening, stopped short with a look of terror on his face, and said "oh sh--!!, I wasn't thinking, and I filled the gas tank on the way out here!! Run for it!!" :) :)
The fireball would have made Hollywood proud!
The drive back to town was very nerve-wracking, because we just knew the first emergency vehicle to pass us was going to know our involvement and chase us down. We managed to talk each other into driving calmly, as if nothing had happened. Good luck! The smoke plume was visible for several miles! About halfway back to town, sirens, flashing lights, pounding hearts! Whoosh! right past us!
Then came the second fire truck, followed closely by a sheriff's deputy. Whoosh! Whoosh!, still pounding hearts, and lots of anxious looks in the rearview mirrors. Somehow, we made it, and believe it or not, "D" had removed his license plates, and the fire must not have spread, because that is the last I know about that event. No phone calls, no police visits, just some great fireworks, and good heart exercise!! What a bunch of morons! But boy did we have some fun times!
ONE MORE TIME! DO NOT, DO NOT, DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME!! (without parental supervision?) :)
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Thanksgiving from Arkansas
I have been enjoying reading my family's posts about Thanksgiving, and thought I would add my voice. There are some great memories of wonderful feasts in Bakersfield rattling around in my brain. I remember how much we anticipated Wednesday afternoon, for the bell to ring so that school was out. Yes, I also lived "way back in the day" when Thanksgiving break consisted of Thursday and Friday. We may have "experimented" with a Wed./Thur./Fri. break my Junior or senior year in high school, but I would have to get some input from siblings on that memory. I can't remember ever thinking a week was normal for this vacation.
I guess it may not be "normal" still. My own children have been getting the wed-fri version of vacation at Concord, but my school district in Conway likes to take the whole week. They usually try to make it "productive", by offering professional development for the staff. We have days known as "flex" days that can be earned at an earlier time, and used to allow the whole week off. This year, I wanted to make sure I cover my required 60 hours of PD early in the year, so I opted to take the hours of instruction.
So Monday and Tuesday were pretty much spent. Good presentations, though. I am thankful that I didn't feel the need to grade tests to keep awake.
Wednesday, we get to start our preparations for the big feast. We have tried to keep up some of our family traditions by having dinner with family here. Bob and Phyllis usually invite over Bob's sister Robbie, and we have a dinner with the 10 of us.
Standard fare for this part of the family, Turkey, ham, dressing, corn on the cob, greenbean casserole, lots of pies, sweet potato dishes, mashed potatoes and Benjamin's favorite dish of all: chicken/broccoli/cheese casserole. Of course my job is to bake a big batch of Mom's "sweet dough" rolls, which bake up so light and yummy.
But one difference that might seem unusual. WE LOVE DEEP-FRIED TURKEY!!! I enjoy a good roasted turkey like Mom's, (she really did figure out the secrets with that roaster pan), but here in the Mid-south we deep fry everything. (have you ever heard of deep-fried twinkies? deep-fried snickers? deep-fried coke?? ) Well, turkey fries up "real nice". And Bob has found some great marinades and injectibles like Jalepeno-butter and such. You might not believe how moist and succulent a butter-injected-deep-fried turkey comes out. And just think about that great fried skin with all that marinated flavor sealing in all that juicy goodness!!! Oh man, I just ate way too much of it 4 days ago, and I am getting hungry all over again. You really have to try this sometime!! (ps, don't stuff it!, roast another bird if you just have to have stuffing-in-bird, or roast a chicken, stuffed.)
And the desserts! Pies, Pies and more Pies!! This year, even Elizabeth got in on the action. Michelle baked some absolutely beautiful Pumpkin and apple pies, Phyllis created a wonderful Blueberry pie, as well as a cherry pie dessert, but Elizabeth and I still wanted cherry pie. Elizabeth had baked pies at school for a service club, so she created a beautiful lattice-topped cherry pie for our feast.
I am grateful for the many talented people in my life, and I am thankful that we live in a country where we can enjoy nature's bounty in such a wonderful way. It also makes me feel good that we, as a country can help so many other people in the world. I know many do not have what we have, but this country, because of the good people in it, has done so much good for so many in the world. They may not all like us, but I wonder how much they would "hate us" if we suddenly stopped all the generous support that we offer so many countries.
This is a great country, and we should be thankful for our heritage and our place in the world!
I guess it may not be "normal" still. My own children have been getting the wed-fri version of vacation at Concord, but my school district in Conway likes to take the whole week. They usually try to make it "productive", by offering professional development for the staff. We have days known as "flex" days that can be earned at an earlier time, and used to allow the whole week off. This year, I wanted to make sure I cover my required 60 hours of PD early in the year, so I opted to take the hours of instruction.
So Monday and Tuesday were pretty much spent. Good presentations, though. I am thankful that I didn't feel the need to grade tests to keep awake.
Wednesday, we get to start our preparations for the big feast. We have tried to keep up some of our family traditions by having dinner with family here. Bob and Phyllis usually invite over Bob's sister Robbie, and we have a dinner with the 10 of us.
Standard fare for this part of the family, Turkey, ham, dressing, corn on the cob, greenbean casserole, lots of pies, sweet potato dishes, mashed potatoes and Benjamin's favorite dish of all: chicken/broccoli/cheese casserole. Of course my job is to bake a big batch of Mom's "sweet dough" rolls, which bake up so light and yummy.
But one difference that might seem unusual. WE LOVE DEEP-FRIED TURKEY!!! I enjoy a good roasted turkey like Mom's, (she really did figure out the secrets with that roaster pan), but here in the Mid-south we deep fry everything. (have you ever heard of deep-fried twinkies? deep-fried snickers? deep-fried coke?? ) Well, turkey fries up "real nice". And Bob has found some great marinades and injectibles like Jalepeno-butter and such. You might not believe how moist and succulent a butter-injected-deep-fried turkey comes out. And just think about that great fried skin with all that marinated flavor sealing in all that juicy goodness!!! Oh man, I just ate way too much of it 4 days ago, and I am getting hungry all over again. You really have to try this sometime!! (ps, don't stuff it!, roast another bird if you just have to have stuffing-in-bird, or roast a chicken, stuffed.)
And the desserts! Pies, Pies and more Pies!! This year, even Elizabeth got in on the action. Michelle baked some absolutely beautiful Pumpkin and apple pies, Phyllis created a wonderful Blueberry pie, as well as a cherry pie dessert, but Elizabeth and I still wanted cherry pie. Elizabeth had baked pies at school for a service club, so she created a beautiful lattice-topped cherry pie for our feast.
I am grateful for the many talented people in my life, and I am thankful that we live in a country where we can enjoy nature's bounty in such a wonderful way. It also makes me feel good that we, as a country can help so many other people in the world. I know many do not have what we have, but this country, because of the good people in it, has done so much good for so many in the world. They may not all like us, but I wonder how much they would "hate us" if we suddenly stopped all the generous support that we offer so many countries.
This is a great country, and we should be thankful for our heritage and our place in the world!
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Vote intelligently, PLEASE!!
I shared this story with my classes recently, but I thought I would add it here, as well.
With all the furor over this last presidential election, and all the controversial issues that also were voted on, I have spent some time talking to my classes about it. I know, German teacher, but this stuff is really way more important than German in the big picture, and becoming a globally aware citizen really has to start with being aware of your local and national surroundings first.
As any who know me will attest, my political leanings are conservative, which is typically (though not always) represented best by people in the Republican party. My students, particularly those who lean more democrat will hopefully remember that our real purpose of these discussions is never , has never been, nor ever will be, to push you to accept my views. My purpose has always been to encourage voting from a base of knowledge and logic, not emotion and hype.
We have many discussions about the politics of Nazi Germany, and the Cold War era, and political responsibility in America the Beautiful. I am very open about my views, but I am even more open in pushing students to explore their own beliefs, opinions and ideas, and make sure that their future votes are cast for people and laws that represent those views. Preferably without infringing on the beliefs, opinions, and ideas of others.
I have even been heard to say,"If you believe communism is the best thing for this country, then vote for a communist, but know why you're doing it!" That is the beauty of our system. Hope it stays that way forever!
I feel like we had a huge amount of emotional politics going on this cycle, and that bumper-stickers and sound bites drove many people's votes on both sides of many issues. I am trying so hard to get my students (ages 14-17) to be ready to be intelligent voters when they are old enough.
I wish we would all do more in that regard. I overheard something at the polling place that frustrated me, and I thought I would share.
I was standing there on Nov. 4th, waiting my turn, when a couple came up behind me. Now, remember, this is small town Arkansas, so I am aware of who these people are, and they are at least vaguely familiar with me. (Their daughter is one of Michelle's former best clients). As we stood there, they started discussing how they were going to vote. I will try to recreate the conversation.
"So, who are we going to vote for?"
"Well, we want the guy who said XXXXXXXXXXXX, and stands for XXXXXX, right?"
"Yeah, I think so!" "Now , wasn't that (this guy)?"
"Yeah, I think so."
"Okay, so we're voting for (this guy), right?"
At this point I was beginning to be uncomfortable, because the guy they thought stood for XXXXXXXX, was actually the other guy. But, being at the pols, and not being married to either of them, I would be out of line to turn and say something. It might be considered "campaigning at the polling place".
Then, they started discussing some of the proposals and amendments that we had on our ballot. The conversation went something along these same lines.
"Now, how are we voting on this act?"
"I'm not sure. What does it mean?"
"I think it means this, XXXXXXXXXX, and we should vote for it."
"Are you sure, I thought it meant this, XXXXXXXXX and we should vote against it."
"I' don't know, let's read it." Pause to read "Well, heck, I don't understand a word of that."
"So does it mean we should vote for it or against?"
"I don't know, I think we should vote against it."
"OK"
This went on the whole time I stood there, and on at least 3 different items, their understanding of the proposal ( or lack thereof) led them to vote against their own views by mistake. (assuming that they went on to vote the way they talked). Irrelevant whether I agreed with their views or not, it was everything I could do to keep from turning and screaming (as politely as possible), "Please just drop the ballot, turn around and GO HOME!!!"
With all the furor over this last presidential election, and all the controversial issues that also were voted on, I have spent some time talking to my classes about it. I know, German teacher, but this stuff is really way more important than German in the big picture, and becoming a globally aware citizen really has to start with being aware of your local and national surroundings first.
As any who know me will attest, my political leanings are conservative, which is typically (though not always) represented best by people in the Republican party. My students, particularly those who lean more democrat will hopefully remember that our real purpose of these discussions is never , has never been, nor ever will be, to push you to accept my views. My purpose has always been to encourage voting from a base of knowledge and logic, not emotion and hype.
We have many discussions about the politics of Nazi Germany, and the Cold War era, and political responsibility in America the Beautiful. I am very open about my views, but I am even more open in pushing students to explore their own beliefs, opinions and ideas, and make sure that their future votes are cast for people and laws that represent those views. Preferably without infringing on the beliefs, opinions, and ideas of others.
I have even been heard to say,"If you believe communism is the best thing for this country, then vote for a communist, but know why you're doing it!" That is the beauty of our system. Hope it stays that way forever!
I feel like we had a huge amount of emotional politics going on this cycle, and that bumper-stickers and sound bites drove many people's votes on both sides of many issues. I am trying so hard to get my students (ages 14-17) to be ready to be intelligent voters when they are old enough.
I wish we would all do more in that regard. I overheard something at the polling place that frustrated me, and I thought I would share.
I was standing there on Nov. 4th, waiting my turn, when a couple came up behind me. Now, remember, this is small town Arkansas, so I am aware of who these people are, and they are at least vaguely familiar with me. (Their daughter is one of Michelle's former best clients). As we stood there, they started discussing how they were going to vote. I will try to recreate the conversation.
"So, who are we going to vote for?"
"Well, we want the guy who said XXXXXXXXXXXX, and stands for XXXXXX, right?"
"Yeah, I think so!" "Now , wasn't that (this guy)?"
"Yeah, I think so."
"Okay, so we're voting for (this guy), right?"
At this point I was beginning to be uncomfortable, because the guy they thought stood for XXXXXXXX, was actually the other guy. But, being at the pols, and not being married to either of them, I would be out of line to turn and say something. It might be considered "campaigning at the polling place".
Then, they started discussing some of the proposals and amendments that we had on our ballot. The conversation went something along these same lines.
"Now, how are we voting on this act?"
"I'm not sure. What does it mean?"
"I think it means this, XXXXXXXXXX, and we should vote for it."
"Are you sure, I thought it meant this, XXXXXXXXX and we should vote against it."
"I' don't know, let's read it." Pause to read "Well, heck, I don't understand a word of that."
"So does it mean we should vote for it or against?"
"I don't know, I think we should vote against it."
"OK"
This went on the whole time I stood there, and on at least 3 different items, their understanding of the proposal ( or lack thereof) led them to vote against their own views by mistake. (assuming that they went on to vote the way they talked). Irrelevant whether I agreed with their views or not, it was everything I could do to keep from turning and screaming (as politely as possible), "Please just drop the ballot, turn around and GO HOME!!!"
Add my memories
I just got through reading Janet's post about gardening in Magna. I know I was only 4 when we left to move to Bakersfield, but I have a few very vivid memories of Magna, and few that I only remember from stories told about me.
About the backyard.... I remember the irrigation ditch, and the times the yard was flooded. I didn't remember that it was a raspberry bramble, but I do remember playing "hide and seek" in some bush in the middle of the yard. I can recall all the apricots, and I am sure I was a happy participant in Apricot wars.
What I really remember, though, is the fish. I have a recollection coming out in the yard one day. It may have been morning, I don't know, and seeing the yard covered in shallow water, and what to me looked like hundreds of fish flopping around!! I was so excited! I helped Mom and ???? gather up as many as we could find. I was sharing this memory with Mom a while back, and she verified for me that my perspective wasn't totally skewered by age. We gathered up a big potful of fish, one of those black enameled canning pots, or Mom's large stew pot (remember family of 11 needs a big soup pot).
I don't remember what kind of fish (probably a catfish variety), or even if I enjoyed eating them. I was only 3 at the time, and probably not really fond of fish, but I will always remember the magical moment of coming into the yard and seeing that beautiful harvest!
Another memory that I have of Magna is really basic, and may sound lame, but that's how memory goes from age 3 sometimes. It was probably David (my oldest brother for non-family readers), that was into the "creepy-crawlers" fad at the time. If you are under 40, you may not know what I'm talking about. You could purchase molds, and materials and make your own custom designed rubber bugs and spiders and snakes, oh my!
What I remember more than the crawlers, was the smell. I will never forget that aroma of melting (and sometimes scorching) rubber based materials that came out of the molds. You could use all kinds of colors, and make the most rainbow bugs in the universe! I still think of creepy-crawlers evertime I smell the aroma of burning plastics.
The most repeated story of my life in Magna, though, revolves around Dad's rsponsibilities as Bishop of our Ward in Magna. We lived just across the street from the Church building (kitty-cornered, if I recall correctly, but it's not critical). As Bishop, Dad would spend many hours at the church, or dealing with the responsibilities of a church leader. I guess in my own little 1-2 yr. old brain, that registered in an important way.
According to Mom, one night around 2-3 am, she had a neighbor lady knock on our door carrying a small diaper-clad, tow-headed kid. This good sister had woken from sleep and just glanced out her bedroom window to see me toddling along in the church parking lot. She came over and found me wandering from door to door of the building. She didn't recognize me, ( there were at least 2 large wards sharing the building, and she was in one of the other wards), and when she had asked my name, "Scott" probably wasn't enough. I couldn't say my last name yet, at least not well enough to be recognized by a stranger. When she asked what my Mommy's name was, I replied "mommy", same thing for "daddy", naturally. I couldn't tell her where I lived, or really, anything else about me.
She finally got some help when she asked where my daddy lived. My response " at da Chuwch" led her to think of Bishops, and she was able to deduce which Bishop lived closest to the building.
About the backyard.... I remember the irrigation ditch, and the times the yard was flooded. I didn't remember that it was a raspberry bramble, but I do remember playing "hide and seek" in some bush in the middle of the yard. I can recall all the apricots, and I am sure I was a happy participant in Apricot wars.
What I really remember, though, is the fish. I have a recollection coming out in the yard one day. It may have been morning, I don't know, and seeing the yard covered in shallow water, and what to me looked like hundreds of fish flopping around!! I was so excited! I helped Mom and ???? gather up as many as we could find. I was sharing this memory with Mom a while back, and she verified for me that my perspective wasn't totally skewered by age. We gathered up a big potful of fish, one of those black enameled canning pots, or Mom's large stew pot (remember family of 11 needs a big soup pot).
I don't remember what kind of fish (probably a catfish variety), or even if I enjoyed eating them. I was only 3 at the time, and probably not really fond of fish, but I will always remember the magical moment of coming into the yard and seeing that beautiful harvest!
Another memory that I have of Magna is really basic, and may sound lame, but that's how memory goes from age 3 sometimes. It was probably David (my oldest brother for non-family readers), that was into the "creepy-crawlers" fad at the time. If you are under 40, you may not know what I'm talking about. You could purchase molds, and materials and make your own custom designed rubber bugs and spiders and snakes, oh my!
What I remember more than the crawlers, was the smell. I will never forget that aroma of melting (and sometimes scorching) rubber based materials that came out of the molds. You could use all kinds of colors, and make the most rainbow bugs in the universe! I still think of creepy-crawlers evertime I smell the aroma of burning plastics.
The most repeated story of my life in Magna, though, revolves around Dad's rsponsibilities as Bishop of our Ward in Magna. We lived just across the street from the Church building (kitty-cornered, if I recall correctly, but it's not critical). As Bishop, Dad would spend many hours at the church, or dealing with the responsibilities of a church leader. I guess in my own little 1-2 yr. old brain, that registered in an important way.
According to Mom, one night around 2-3 am, she had a neighbor lady knock on our door carrying a small diaper-clad, tow-headed kid. This good sister had woken from sleep and just glanced out her bedroom window to see me toddling along in the church parking lot. She came over and found me wandering from door to door of the building. She didn't recognize me, ( there were at least 2 large wards sharing the building, and she was in one of the other wards), and when she had asked my name, "Scott" probably wasn't enough. I couldn't say my last name yet, at least not well enough to be recognized by a stranger. When she asked what my Mommy's name was, I replied "mommy", same thing for "daddy", naturally. I couldn't tell her where I lived, or really, anything else about me.
She finally got some help when she asked where my daddy lived. My response " at da Chuwch" led her to think of Bishops, and she was able to deduce which Bishop lived closest to the building.
Monday, November 17, 2008
Small Town America
I am sitting here tonight, not really wanting to watch TV, not quite ready to go to bed, and I have so many things that I really NEED to start doing, that I have no desire to even think much about doing them. Is that a bad attitude? Am I unusual in wanting to avoid thinking of a long list of Chores? They will all get done, because they have to get done, but I just don't want to do any of them tonight.
So I have been reading some of Mom and Janet's blog posts. ( That's my oldest sister, for those not familiar with the Wahlquist clan). I enjoy reading them to see what memories of my youth come into print. If you want to check these out, they are found at www.Barbsbabblings.blogspot.com and .......... darn it, I can't remember the URL for Janet's. You can link to it in blogs I follow at the side of this post.
I didn't really come into this with a specific idea, but I was reading Mom's post about family get- togethers in Utah, and her growing up in Missouri, and it kind of got me thinking about the places I have lived.
I can't really say I grew up in small town America, because Bakersfield CA is only pushing the 400 K population mark. It hovered around 250-350 K during the years I was there, but that didn't include all of the unincorporated areas that might be described as "suburbs". We lived kind of out on the East side of town, away from the hustle and bustle of downtown and industry, and so in many ways, it felt much like a "small town" to me.
Of course, Hollywood tried to help reinforce that small town image. Any time Bakersfield gets mentioned in movies or TV shows, and it frequently does, it is mentioned in such a way as to paint it as a small (even "hick-) town somewhere removed from LA, and the other major cities of California. It's about 2 hours north of LA
I was okay with that. I liked growing up in Bakersfield. Those who still live there may not be seeing this yet, but if you do at some point, know that there are things that only Bakersfielders understand. For example, the idea that you might drive around a major parking lot for 15 minutes to get the shady spot under the tree at the far end of the parking lot. That leather seats are not always considered a luxury, especially in July, but that Vinyl seats can be considered cruel and unusual punishment in that same month.
That it is not only possible, but highly likely that you will go for years without seeing any water under the bridges that span the Kern River, as it goes through town. That Kern County Fair will beat nearly every state fair in the country for rides, crowds, celebrity appearances, and exhibits. Man I miss the Kern County Fair!
Well, I moved from "small town Bakersfield", and went to Utah to attend BYU. Provo is not really a small town, but it was always going to be a temporary stay. After spending our first year out of college together in Bakersfield, where did we end up? Small town Utah. Payson boasted about 15,000, and we enjoyed 7 good years. We had lots of space, I was not afraid to let the kids ride bikes down the streets, and Our back yard was laid out in such a way that we only saw the mountains out our back windows. We even had a "creek" running through the back end of our lot, in a place that was such that you could not see any of our neighbors' houses. Space for a small fruit orchard ( 12 trees), and a large garden. Not a bad way to live.
Then the crazy move to Arkansas. Many of the family remember the whirlwind of that summer we decided to move out here to become chicken farmers. It all happened in a few short weeks. We felt totally prompted to make the move, and we really felt like our circumstances were blessed to help the transition be smooth. Then we got here, and our faith was tested over and over. Long stories for another time. These tests, I feel, were to prove to us that we still felt the prompting to be here. In spite of all the trials of that first and second year, (some that had me threatening quietly to pack the family into our car and figure out belongings later), we still knew that we belonged in small town Arkansas.
And I mean small town!! Drasco has a whopping population of about 200. And we are spread out enough that many of us have 1/4 mile or more between neighbors. And you know, I really enjoy the solitude and the simplicity. Not ease, just simplicity. There is something therapeutic about cutting down 2 acres of hardwood forest to create a "homestead". About knowing that I know nearly everyone that comes down our road, as long as I know the neighbor's children. About knowing my childrens' teachers and where they live and who they are because I know several generations of their family. About knowing that I can find solitude and quiet in the trees, if ever life gets too "noisy".
Our town is not backwoods, our life is not deprived of niceties, but we are also pretty self-sufficient. When times get tough, I'd much rather be in small town America. It is called "Heart-land" for a reason. It still shows the true "Heart" of what this country is all about: Opportunity, growth, friendship, hard work, and ingenuity.
So I have been reading some of Mom and Janet's blog posts. ( That's my oldest sister, for those not familiar with the Wahlquist clan). I enjoy reading them to see what memories of my youth come into print. If you want to check these out, they are found at www.Barbsbabblings.blogspot.com and .......... darn it, I can't remember the URL for Janet's. You can link to it in blogs I follow at the side of this post.
I didn't really come into this with a specific idea, but I was reading Mom's post about family get- togethers in Utah, and her growing up in Missouri, and it kind of got me thinking about the places I have lived.
I can't really say I grew up in small town America, because Bakersfield CA is only pushing the 400 K population mark. It hovered around 250-350 K during the years I was there, but that didn't include all of the unincorporated areas that might be described as "suburbs". We lived kind of out on the East side of town, away from the hustle and bustle of downtown and industry, and so in many ways, it felt much like a "small town" to me.
Of course, Hollywood tried to help reinforce that small town image. Any time Bakersfield gets mentioned in movies or TV shows, and it frequently does, it is mentioned in such a way as to paint it as a small (even "hick-) town somewhere removed from LA, and the other major cities of California. It's about 2 hours north of LA
I was okay with that. I liked growing up in Bakersfield. Those who still live there may not be seeing this yet, but if you do at some point, know that there are things that only Bakersfielders understand. For example, the idea that you might drive around a major parking lot for 15 minutes to get the shady spot under the tree at the far end of the parking lot. That leather seats are not always considered a luxury, especially in July, but that Vinyl seats can be considered cruel and unusual punishment in that same month.
That it is not only possible, but highly likely that you will go for years without seeing any water under the bridges that span the Kern River, as it goes through town. That Kern County Fair will beat nearly every state fair in the country for rides, crowds, celebrity appearances, and exhibits. Man I miss the Kern County Fair!
Well, I moved from "small town Bakersfield", and went to Utah to attend BYU. Provo is not really a small town, but it was always going to be a temporary stay. After spending our first year out of college together in Bakersfield, where did we end up? Small town Utah. Payson boasted about 15,000, and we enjoyed 7 good years. We had lots of space, I was not afraid to let the kids ride bikes down the streets, and Our back yard was laid out in such a way that we only saw the mountains out our back windows. We even had a "creek" running through the back end of our lot, in a place that was such that you could not see any of our neighbors' houses. Space for a small fruit orchard ( 12 trees), and a large garden. Not a bad way to live.
Then the crazy move to Arkansas. Many of the family remember the whirlwind of that summer we decided to move out here to become chicken farmers. It all happened in a few short weeks. We felt totally prompted to make the move, and we really felt like our circumstances were blessed to help the transition be smooth. Then we got here, and our faith was tested over and over. Long stories for another time. These tests, I feel, were to prove to us that we still felt the prompting to be here. In spite of all the trials of that first and second year, (some that had me threatening quietly to pack the family into our car and figure out belongings later), we still knew that we belonged in small town Arkansas.
And I mean small town!! Drasco has a whopping population of about 200. And we are spread out enough that many of us have 1/4 mile or more between neighbors. And you know, I really enjoy the solitude and the simplicity. Not ease, just simplicity. There is something therapeutic about cutting down 2 acres of hardwood forest to create a "homestead". About knowing that I know nearly everyone that comes down our road, as long as I know the neighbor's children. About knowing my childrens' teachers and where they live and who they are because I know several generations of their family. About knowing that I can find solitude and quiet in the trees, if ever life gets too "noisy".
Our town is not backwoods, our life is not deprived of niceties, but we are also pretty self-sufficient. When times get tough, I'd much rather be in small town America. It is called "Heart-land" for a reason. It still shows the true "Heart" of what this country is all about: Opportunity, growth, friendship, hard work, and ingenuity.
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Pay Now, or Pay Later!
As we have been watching the unfolding economic troubles of the world, and listening to the ongoing political rhetoric that springs from it, something that I heard said many years ago comes to mind. I don't remember where I heard it, or who said it, and I'm sure this comment, or many like it can be attributed to many different people.
I'm sure that I heard my Dad or my Grandpa say this at least once growing up, and probably several times as I reached young adulthood. It is a concept that society as a whole seems to have forgotten.
What is at the center of the economic crisis? Credit! So-called "toxic loans". Banks and other major companies "cooking" their books to show higher profits. Many consumers declaring bankruptcy to bail out of loans they probably knew they would be unable to pay in the first place. Government encouraging/requiring/guaranteeing loans to people who would be considered a bad credit risk under any other circumstance. Well guess what? It is crashing down around us. Why??
Because we as a society have forgotten a very basic principle of success. (Both financially and otherwise) Pay now, or pay later. And pay later is usually the bad end of the deal. There is always a "premium" on the quick fix, the instant gratification. If we attempt shortcuts in athletics, for example, we see drug use, steroid abuse or just plain cheating, (although the last one is maybe harder to get away with). Practice takes time, and we don't like things that take time.
In terms of our health, many choose to have expensive surgery, or take experimental and sometimes risky meds, in order to drop weight that often could be shed with better diet, exercise and some serious soul searching. But that takes time! We don't like things to take time.
In a school setting, if we don't want to put in the time necessary to learn something now, but we want the GPA to get to a good college, we see students resort to cheating. Using online sources as if they were our own work. Turning in a paper done by a friend, trusting that their spellchecker caught all mistakes. (Yes I have seen papers IDENTICAL down to the misplaced comma, or a misspelled word.) Doing our own research takes time, and we don't like things that take time.
In the financial world, most of us are not crooks. We would never steal money outright, and the majority of us would even return money we found, if we could. It still gives me hope that we hear stories of people getting their wallets back with hundreds in cash still in the pocket. Of course, maybe we hear about it because it is becoming less common. We commonly make the mistake, though, of wanting something so badly right now, that we change that "want" to a "need". In our country, we have an average of nearly $3000 consumer debt per household, not including car and house loans. We could save up for it, but that takes time, and we don't like things to take time. We want them "right nooooooooooooooooow", to quote Veruca Salt, of Willie Wonka fame.
Can you hear our country and our government screaming? "We want it right nooooooooooooooooow"? Remember what happened to dear, sweet Veruca?
I'm sure that I heard my Dad or my Grandpa say this at least once growing up, and probably several times as I reached young adulthood. It is a concept that society as a whole seems to have forgotten.
What is at the center of the economic crisis? Credit! So-called "toxic loans". Banks and other major companies "cooking" their books to show higher profits. Many consumers declaring bankruptcy to bail out of loans they probably knew they would be unable to pay in the first place. Government encouraging/requiring/guaranteeing loans to people who would be considered a bad credit risk under any other circumstance. Well guess what? It is crashing down around us. Why??
Because we as a society have forgotten a very basic principle of success. (Both financially and otherwise) Pay now, or pay later. And pay later is usually the bad end of the deal. There is always a "premium" on the quick fix, the instant gratification. If we attempt shortcuts in athletics, for example, we see drug use, steroid abuse or just plain cheating, (although the last one is maybe harder to get away with). Practice takes time, and we don't like things that take time.
In terms of our health, many choose to have expensive surgery, or take experimental and sometimes risky meds, in order to drop weight that often could be shed with better diet, exercise and some serious soul searching. But that takes time! We don't like things to take time.
In a school setting, if we don't want to put in the time necessary to learn something now, but we want the GPA to get to a good college, we see students resort to cheating. Using online sources as if they were our own work. Turning in a paper done by a friend, trusting that their spellchecker caught all mistakes. (Yes I have seen papers IDENTICAL down to the misplaced comma, or a misspelled word.) Doing our own research takes time, and we don't like things that take time.
In the financial world, most of us are not crooks. We would never steal money outright, and the majority of us would even return money we found, if we could. It still gives me hope that we hear stories of people getting their wallets back with hundreds in cash still in the pocket. Of course, maybe we hear about it because it is becoming less common. We commonly make the mistake, though, of wanting something so badly right now, that we change that "want" to a "need". In our country, we have an average of nearly $3000 consumer debt per household, not including car and house loans. We could save up for it, but that takes time, and we don't like things to take time. We want them "right nooooooooooooooooow", to quote Veruca Salt, of Willie Wonka fame.
Can you hear our country and our government screaming? "We want it right nooooooooooooooooow"? Remember what happened to dear, sweet Veruca?
Monday, November 10, 2008
Selective hearing
I have to laugh! :) Teenagers and their selective hearing! Today in one of my classes, a student was searching for a particular word. Another was helping them, and when they found it, they started to spell outloud: " V-E-R-F-U,'Umlaut'-H".....at which point another student 2 rows over, piped in in with "Who's 'Umlaut', and what did they do to you to deserve that?" At least I know their hearing works, if only selectively.
This is not the only crazy statement I have had from students. Late in the school year last Spring, I had one of my seniors feeling kind of uncooperative. She was generally a good student (at least for me), but I think senioritis had struck. We were getting ready to do a verbal practice, and she stated very matter-of-factly: "Herr Wahlquist, I can't do this exercise, I don't speak verbally".
On another occasion, I had a student working on a vocabulary and short phrase worksheet. He was getting somewhat frustrated, and commented, more to the air than to anyone in particular: "Man, this would be so much easier if I spoke German!" :) :)
This is not the only crazy statement I have had from students. Late in the school year last Spring, I had one of my seniors feeling kind of uncooperative. She was generally a good student (at least for me), but I think senioritis had struck. We were getting ready to do a verbal practice, and she stated very matter-of-factly: "Herr Wahlquist, I can't do this exercise, I don't speak verbally".
On another occasion, I had a student working on a vocabulary and short phrase worksheet. He was getting somewhat frustrated, and commented, more to the air than to anyone in particular: "Man, this would be so much easier if I spoke German!" :) :)
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Lucky we survived II
We have other things that seem like We are being protected from our own youthful stupidity. I had an experience while serving as a missionary in Switzerland. I may not have even told my parents about this one, yet, so Mom, Dad, if this is news, just remember, I am still here!
We had been given permission to travel on our "preparation Day", the day we normally did laundry, wrote letters home, went shopping, cleaned the apartment ,etc., on condition that we return by a certain time. We had chosen to go to a beautiful mountain lake not far from where we were assigned. The hike would climb about 1500 feet from the last tram(cable car) station, to an elevation of about 6000 ft. It was still cool enough in shadows of the mountains that this lake was still frozen solid enough to hold a small car, even though we were comfortably dressed in t-shirts, some of the group wore bermuda shorts, and we all wore our "tennis shoes" to hike in.
Next to this lake, a waterfall dropped off the mountain, falling about 100-150 ft., not into a basin or outlet stream, but into a hole carved by eon's of erosion. A local told us it was supposed to be around 700 ft deep, before it started sideways, but no one had really explored it, because there was always moving water and/or ice.
That day, the hole was surrounded by a mound of ice and snow that formed a huge bowl around the crevice. The hole was about 8-10 feet across, and sheeted in ice formations from the minor trickle of water that was part of the early spring run-off above. It was sooo beautiful! We wanted to get a closer look. A couple of us climbed the mound, slipping and sliding, having to retrace our steps more than once, having slipped to the bottom because of the ice and snow.
At the top of this ridge surrounding the bowl, we stopped to try a picture. I wanted to try and get a look down inside the hole, so I was holding my camera as far over my head as I could. I decided that it was still too flat. I took 3 steps down into the bowl, and got what turned out to be a spectacular photo. I climbed back up, and the first step outside of the bowl, my foot slipped on the ice, and I slid all the way to the bottom of the mound!
As I stood up, the realization of my stupidity hit me! The inside of that bowl was every bit as slick as the outside, and the "bottom" of the bowl ended in a cold black hole reportedly 700 feet deep!!!! WHAT WAS I THINKING!!!!
I have had many a nightmare about that choice, but it has also been a lesson for me. Sometimes, things seem enticing, exciting, and we fail to see the danger (sometimes even obvious danger). If we step too close, we may end up losing any ability to bail ourselves out. I honestly believe I was being protected that day, from my own bad choice, and I vowed that I would not put myself in that kind of danger again. Either physically or spiritually.
Lucky to have survived, lesson learned!
We had been given permission to travel on our "preparation Day", the day we normally did laundry, wrote letters home, went shopping, cleaned the apartment ,etc., on condition that we return by a certain time. We had chosen to go to a beautiful mountain lake not far from where we were assigned. The hike would climb about 1500 feet from the last tram(cable car) station, to an elevation of about 6000 ft. It was still cool enough in shadows of the mountains that this lake was still frozen solid enough to hold a small car, even though we were comfortably dressed in t-shirts, some of the group wore bermuda shorts, and we all wore our "tennis shoes" to hike in.
Next to this lake, a waterfall dropped off the mountain, falling about 100-150 ft., not into a basin or outlet stream, but into a hole carved by eon's of erosion. A local told us it was supposed to be around 700 ft deep, before it started sideways, but no one had really explored it, because there was always moving water and/or ice.
That day, the hole was surrounded by a mound of ice and snow that formed a huge bowl around the crevice. The hole was about 8-10 feet across, and sheeted in ice formations from the minor trickle of water that was part of the early spring run-off above. It was sooo beautiful! We wanted to get a closer look. A couple of us climbed the mound, slipping and sliding, having to retrace our steps more than once, having slipped to the bottom because of the ice and snow.
At the top of this ridge surrounding the bowl, we stopped to try a picture. I wanted to try and get a look down inside the hole, so I was holding my camera as far over my head as I could. I decided that it was still too flat. I took 3 steps down into the bowl, and got what turned out to be a spectacular photo. I climbed back up, and the first step outside of the bowl, my foot slipped on the ice, and I slid all the way to the bottom of the mound!
As I stood up, the realization of my stupidity hit me! The inside of that bowl was every bit as slick as the outside, and the "bottom" of the bowl ended in a cold black hole reportedly 700 feet deep!!!! WHAT WAS I THINKING!!!!
I have had many a nightmare about that choice, but it has also been a lesson for me. Sometimes, things seem enticing, exciting, and we fail to see the danger (sometimes even obvious danger). If we step too close, we may end up losing any ability to bail ourselves out. I honestly believe I was being protected that day, from my own bad choice, and I vowed that I would not put myself in that kind of danger again. Either physically or spiritually.
Lucky to have survived, lesson learned!
Lucky we survive!
Well, here it is, November 4, 2008. Election Day! I have done my duty and voted, we have finished selling chickens, supper is finished, and I really don't wish to sit and listen to the TV talking heads continually go on about "not being ready to project results, but here are our projected results so far."
I am fully aware of the significance of this election, and feel frustrated at the apparent lack of awareness by way too many people. Like I said elsewhere, people who want socialism (or any other system), and vote for it knowledgably have that right. Too many don't seem to recognize what is at stake with that trend. Take for example more than one conversation overheard at the polling place for my voting district. I will not give specifics, but it is mirrored around the country, I am sure.
While waiting with others to vote, couple X discusses the candidates and other proposed amendments on the ballot. Item one "now who were we voting for? And he wants ...this... right? I'm not sure, but he seems better than the other guy." Item two, between two friends "what does this proposal mean? I don't know, but we need to vote against that one, I think."
I will wake up tomorrow and go about my daily routine, and if things in this country start to change, it will be even more important for like minded people to share their thoughts and feelings about politics in this country. Things will go on, America will muddle through. The people will at some point face challenges that will remind us what this country has always been about. There may be some really bad days ahead, there may be some really good ones, and America will make it, as long as Americans continue to be strong and push America to greatness.
While talking about survival, the big picture, I have also had opportunity to think about other things, which will take my mind off the political craziness that is today.
Kids, and injuries, and "aren't we lucky we survived?" I have had more students with injuries this year, than any other year teaching. One student shredded his arm doing mixed martial arts, and will be in therapy for several more weeks. Another student broke something in his foot or ankle, and came in today upset, because the doctor had originally told him that he should put weight on it ASAP. Now they have decided it was something different, and he really shouldn' t have been putting any weight on it at all. He will be on crutches for an additional 4-6 weeks because of the mistake.
Another student has torn something in her ankle ( I think), and has been hobbling around in one of those hard "boots" for the last 2 weeks. One student broke his arm skateboarding earlier this year. To say nothing of the many twists and sprains and bruises that are typical of high school athletics. The one that reminded me most of teenage injuries was a student who came today with a broken wrist.
Another student asked him if he broke it punching a wall, and that reminded me of my friend Ron. We had been friends since Kindergarten. He, and Rick and I had been nearly inseperable all those years through High School. We had other friends that joined our group later, like Brian and Martin, and the list goes on.
But one of Ron's injuries came flooding back when my student was asked if he had punched a wall. We were in the 7th or 8th grade, attending Sierra Junior High in Bakersfield CA. Life was good, and we were all feeling pretty comfortable. Ron had developed a crush on this really cute girl that we all liked. He had tried several times to get her to go out with him, but she had refused. More than once! Ron persisted, and one morning right as school started, he made what was to be his final attempt.
She shot him down so hard, it shook all of us, and we weren't even standing within earshot. He was visibly upset, and as he walked back toward us, he growled something, and turned and slugged the side of the Auditorium, really HARD! Looking at his hand, we knew only adrenalin could keep him from curling up in a ball. He was bleeding, and his fingers looked oddly shaped. He ended up going to the hospital that morning. He had broken two fingers and sprained his wrist, not to mention the abrasions from punching a stucco wall.
When his Mom asked him what had happened, he told her about the girl. Mom asked who she was, and when she heard the name, she started laughing. (Now, my Arkansas students knew right away what was up, my former Utah students had to wait for the punch line)
Ron wanted to know why his Mom would laugh at his pain. She simply said he would have to go ask his Grandma, next door. We went with them. When his Grandma heard what had happened, and who the girl was, she fell out of her chair, laughing so hard. Imagine 4 teenage boys and two grown women sitting on the floor laughing hysterically. Ron was the only one in the room not laughing, when his Grandma explained that the girl was actually Ron's cousin!!
The family had not gotten along well for many years, and Ron's aunt and mother had not had any contact with each other for all those years. Ron didn't know that his love interest was his cousin. She didn't know, either, and Ron made us promise not to tell. Of course the girl found out within days, and she wouldn't come within miles of Ron for several weeks. :)
Eventually, we went back to all being friends, and after Junior High, she ended up going to a different High School, so we all lost touch wth her, but we still give Ron a hard time about his "southern roots" (sorry to all of my Arkansas friends and relatives, but you have to admit that the stereotype is not historically inaccurate.) See my next post for another Survival of the stupid!
I am fully aware of the significance of this election, and feel frustrated at the apparent lack of awareness by way too many people. Like I said elsewhere, people who want socialism (or any other system), and vote for it knowledgably have that right. Too many don't seem to recognize what is at stake with that trend. Take for example more than one conversation overheard at the polling place for my voting district. I will not give specifics, but it is mirrored around the country, I am sure.
While waiting with others to vote, couple X discusses the candidates and other proposed amendments on the ballot. Item one "now who were we voting for? And he wants ...this... right? I'm not sure, but he seems better than the other guy." Item two, between two friends "what does this proposal mean? I don't know, but we need to vote against that one, I think."
I will wake up tomorrow and go about my daily routine, and if things in this country start to change, it will be even more important for like minded people to share their thoughts and feelings about politics in this country. Things will go on, America will muddle through. The people will at some point face challenges that will remind us what this country has always been about. There may be some really bad days ahead, there may be some really good ones, and America will make it, as long as Americans continue to be strong and push America to greatness.
While talking about survival, the big picture, I have also had opportunity to think about other things, which will take my mind off the political craziness that is today.
Kids, and injuries, and "aren't we lucky we survived?" I have had more students with injuries this year, than any other year teaching. One student shredded his arm doing mixed martial arts, and will be in therapy for several more weeks. Another student broke something in his foot or ankle, and came in today upset, because the doctor had originally told him that he should put weight on it ASAP. Now they have decided it was something different, and he really shouldn' t have been putting any weight on it at all. He will be on crutches for an additional 4-6 weeks because of the mistake.
Another student has torn something in her ankle ( I think), and has been hobbling around in one of those hard "boots" for the last 2 weeks. One student broke his arm skateboarding earlier this year. To say nothing of the many twists and sprains and bruises that are typical of high school athletics. The one that reminded me most of teenage injuries was a student who came today with a broken wrist.
Another student asked him if he broke it punching a wall, and that reminded me of my friend Ron. We had been friends since Kindergarten. He, and Rick and I had been nearly inseperable all those years through High School. We had other friends that joined our group later, like Brian and Martin, and the list goes on.
But one of Ron's injuries came flooding back when my student was asked if he had punched a wall. We were in the 7th or 8th grade, attending Sierra Junior High in Bakersfield CA. Life was good, and we were all feeling pretty comfortable. Ron had developed a crush on this really cute girl that we all liked. He had tried several times to get her to go out with him, but she had refused. More than once! Ron persisted, and one morning right as school started, he made what was to be his final attempt.
She shot him down so hard, it shook all of us, and we weren't even standing within earshot. He was visibly upset, and as he walked back toward us, he growled something, and turned and slugged the side of the Auditorium, really HARD! Looking at his hand, we knew only adrenalin could keep him from curling up in a ball. He was bleeding, and his fingers looked oddly shaped. He ended up going to the hospital that morning. He had broken two fingers and sprained his wrist, not to mention the abrasions from punching a stucco wall.
When his Mom asked him what had happened, he told her about the girl. Mom asked who she was, and when she heard the name, she started laughing. (Now, my Arkansas students knew right away what was up, my former Utah students had to wait for the punch line)
Ron wanted to know why his Mom would laugh at his pain. She simply said he would have to go ask his Grandma, next door. We went with them. When his Grandma heard what had happened, and who the girl was, she fell out of her chair, laughing so hard. Imagine 4 teenage boys and two grown women sitting on the floor laughing hysterically. Ron was the only one in the room not laughing, when his Grandma explained that the girl was actually Ron's cousin!!
The family had not gotten along well for many years, and Ron's aunt and mother had not had any contact with each other for all those years. Ron didn't know that his love interest was his cousin. She didn't know, either, and Ron made us promise not to tell. Of course the girl found out within days, and she wouldn't come within miles of Ron for several weeks. :)
Eventually, we went back to all being friends, and after Junior High, she ended up going to a different High School, so we all lost touch wth her, but we still give Ron a hard time about his "southern roots" (sorry to all of my Arkansas friends and relatives, but you have to admit that the stereotype is not historically inaccurate.) See my next post for another Survival of the stupid!
Monday, November 3, 2008
Sports in America
I love working with teenagers! They have so much energy and passion for life, and sometimes in the goofiest ways. But, you know, as they learn and establish their own way, they show great potential. I really hope all of them live up to that potential. They won't all end up the same, but if they figure out a way to convert their youthful exuberence into things important to their lives, they can all be successful in their own way.
That is one of the most wonderful things about this country and this time in which we live. We can each become what we want to become. That is a gift we need to protect. I like seeing the energy and interest these teenagers have in the current political circus. Most of them are 2-4 years away from their first chance to vote, but they are forming opinions, and learning to search out their own viewpoint.
That is what led to a great discussion about socialism, and why I feel it is not right for America. But, even though we disagree, I am proud to say that some of these students were sincere and confident in asking what is so bad about socialism. As I said in my last post, I feel that the forced charity of socialism breeds resentment and corruption at all levels, but they saw the idealistic helpful side of socialism. And I am serious when I say that I would much rather have them know their way around the politics and still vote socialist, than have them be ignorant of the consequences, and vote on emotion.
Well, my topic today doesn't seem related, but here goes.
One of my more vocal students asked a random question about cheerleading being a sport or not. I have some cheerleaders in my classes, and I live with our school's cheerleading captain (my daughter Elizabeth), so I had to handle this question carefully. I put the question back to AC by asking him to give his definition of a sport.
He started off with a requirement of major competitions at local, state and national levels. When I said "then it's a sport", he fired back a requirement that teams and individual awards identified a sport. Again, I guess cheerleading qualifies.
He was apparently trying to "disqualify" cheerleading as a sport, so he then ran through an interesting list of requirements: Hard physical training, injuries common, trash-talking and sabotage, referees(judges), moving on to famous "players and superstars" along with a huge fan following and lots of TV coverage. So far still in. Then he took another approach. "Has to be in the Olympics". I asked him how he really felt about football. :) Then he added things like constant analysis by so-called experts and former players, but not excluding "armchair quarterbacks". He even mentioned the endless post game review and sour-grapes.
The more he talked, the more clearly the thought came to me: One of America's favorite sports is Politics!!
Now, granted, it isn't in the Olympics, but there is definitely an element of politics at the Olympics, so I think it still counts.
That is one of the most wonderful things about this country and this time in which we live. We can each become what we want to become. That is a gift we need to protect. I like seeing the energy and interest these teenagers have in the current political circus. Most of them are 2-4 years away from their first chance to vote, but they are forming opinions, and learning to search out their own viewpoint.
That is what led to a great discussion about socialism, and why I feel it is not right for America. But, even though we disagree, I am proud to say that some of these students were sincere and confident in asking what is so bad about socialism. As I said in my last post, I feel that the forced charity of socialism breeds resentment and corruption at all levels, but they saw the idealistic helpful side of socialism. And I am serious when I say that I would much rather have them know their way around the politics and still vote socialist, than have them be ignorant of the consequences, and vote on emotion.
Well, my topic today doesn't seem related, but here goes.
One of my more vocal students asked a random question about cheerleading being a sport or not. I have some cheerleaders in my classes, and I live with our school's cheerleading captain (my daughter Elizabeth), so I had to handle this question carefully. I put the question back to AC by asking him to give his definition of a sport.
He started off with a requirement of major competitions at local, state and national levels. When I said "then it's a sport", he fired back a requirement that teams and individual awards identified a sport. Again, I guess cheerleading qualifies.
He was apparently trying to "disqualify" cheerleading as a sport, so he then ran through an interesting list of requirements: Hard physical training, injuries common, trash-talking and sabotage, referees(judges), moving on to famous "players and superstars" along with a huge fan following and lots of TV coverage. So far still in. Then he took another approach. "Has to be in the Olympics". I asked him how he really felt about football. :) Then he added things like constant analysis by so-called experts and former players, but not excluding "armchair quarterbacks". He even mentioned the endless post game review and sour-grapes.
The more he talked, the more clearly the thought came to me: One of America's favorite sports is Politics!!
Now, granted, it isn't in the Olympics, but there is definitely an element of politics at the Olympics, so I think it still counts.
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Counterfeit Christianity
Well, here I am again, and here we are just a few days away from a very important election for this country. I am still contemplating dedicating a new blog to my political viewpoints and feelings, but for now, I will make some points here. I know politics is a hot arena, and I do not wish to offend, but I do have strong feelings about the political dealings of this country.
One of my greatest concerns, as I have watched the movements and machinations of government, is that we, the American people, are becoming a nation of passionate, but ignorant voters. Now, before anyone out there gets upset, let me say that ignorance is not the same as stupidity. Ignorance is an absence of knowledge or experience in any given area. When we the people get our political news from short sound bites, bumper stickers, Jay Leno, David Letterman or Saturday Night Live, we are missing the boat.
That having been said, please refrain from using the word ignorant to describe people that disagree with you! Disagreement does not equal ignorance! From either side of our current 2 party mess. Ignorant describes the person who has never seen an actual bill, or looked at the voting record of the person they support. They just go by the last thing "their guy" said in the latest picture op speech. Ignorant describes someone who doesn't understand how our inspired system of checks and balances was intended to work, and all things good or bad are attributed to one man, one party or one government body.
Ignorant describes someone who doesn't see how taking one person's freedom today, in order to support a special interest group or political agenda, sets the stage for removing other freedoms down the road when the leadership changes.
The word socialism has been thrown around a lot in this current election, and there are many of us who feel like socialism is not the right direction for this country. Ignorant describes a person who claims to hate socialism but doesn't understand HOW everything they say and support falls into classic textbook examples of socialism.
A person who understands what is going on, and chooses to keep moving this way, is not ignorant! They make choices based on what they feel is the best for this country. We have the right to disagree! The trick question of the day may become.....will we always have the right to disagree?
With all of this buzzing around in my head, I got into a discussion with my son Justin, something which frequently happens while working together on the family chicken farm. We were discussing comments that he had heard, and questions raised by some of my students about what was so bad about socialism?
That is not an easy question, and our discussion came up with a valid reason for the challenge. Socialism is a great counterfeit.
Christianity, Judaism, moderate Islam and most other world "religions" have as part of their specific doctrine the idea that we are bound by faith to help those less blessed than ourselves. We are taught to search out the widow and the orphan and offer help. We are taught that the world around us is for our benefit, but that we must take care of it and treat it responsibly. We see that our association with like-minded people strengthens us in our resolve to live by "right" principles.
When Christianity or any of these benevolent religions is flourishing and strong, "righteous" believers will take care of the needs of those who can't care for themselves. But each of them has conditions regarding personal responsibility. There is little, if any, need for "administration". Merely constant admonition to believers to keep their own , and assistance in distributing the gifts of the charitable. On the other side, a person who refuses to try, who makes no effort to care for themselves, who functions as a leech on the group, is destined to be thrust out.
This is a very shorthand version of the system.
The counterfeit is forced charity....Socialism. A governing body decides what is "rightfully" acceptable as a standard of living. They make arbitrary decisions as to what constitutes "too much wealth", and set in place means to take and redistribute any wealth accumulated beyond this point. They decide for the individual as well as society, what is acceptable in public discourse, in public behavior. This government entity decides how each person should live, and those who attempt to live beyond this are penalized through this forced charity.
Sadly, however, this counterfeit is fraught with problems, one of which is a tendency toward corruption. Those who amass great wealth feel they have earned what they have, and they will do anything to protect it, even to a point of skirting the laws and values that used to be dear to them. Think of the fable of the sun, the wind and the old man. The wind claimed it could remove the old man's coat faster than the sun. The harder it blew, the colder it became, the tighter the man pulled his coat around himself. The sun shone pleasantly, and the old man shed his coat to enjoy the warmth.
These who have worked hard for their blessings of financial wealth will be like the old man. The harder one pulls to remove their blessings by force, the harder they will try to keep control. Allow them the freedom to succeed, and promote the concepts of charity and benevolance and many will willingly give much more than you could take from them. Will all..? No of course not! There will be greed and selfishness, but no government program is going to remove that. Only a change of peoples' hearts.
The other danger of socialism, maybe the greatest danger, is a tendency toward apathy. Take the American dream. We believe we can succeed!, We have been taught as part of our American heritage that each of us can make our own way in this world, and we can be hugely successful, or we can flop. Our own hard work, education, ingenuity, and perseverance make us what we want to become. If I believe that I can become a multimillionaire, these things are possible in this great country! I will have to work my backside off, but it can be done.
However, forced "charity", socialism, takes away my incentive. Why should I work and slave to make my business or farm ar anything grow, when I know that beyond a certain point the government is going to come and take it away to give to someone not willing to try as hard? Why not just let the government take care of me as well? Why should I attempt to better myself, when the government ensures that I am only allowed to keep a small portion my success? Of course the flipside question is ...Where does the government get it all? You know the answer. They take more, by lowering constantly what is "acceptable wealth", or raising the tax on success.
Listening to a radio interview about what socialism is in this country, it struck me. Socialism allows those who see nothing better for themselves, who don't feel the motivation to achieve their own American Dream, to piggyback off others. A person who can't see anything better from their own efforts, may be perfectly happy to ride on the backs of harder workers, under the disguise of social programs and government assistance.
Those of us who still believe that charity should be from the heart, not from the Legislature, need to stand up. We need to educate ourselves and those around us to the dangers of counterfeits. These counterfeits rob us of freedom to succeed, but ultimately they rob us of our motivation. Other freedoms will follow, if we allow it to thrive.
One of my greatest concerns, as I have watched the movements and machinations of government, is that we, the American people, are becoming a nation of passionate, but ignorant voters. Now, before anyone out there gets upset, let me say that ignorance is not the same as stupidity. Ignorance is an absence of knowledge or experience in any given area. When we the people get our political news from short sound bites, bumper stickers, Jay Leno, David Letterman or Saturday Night Live, we are missing the boat.
That having been said, please refrain from using the word ignorant to describe people that disagree with you! Disagreement does not equal ignorance! From either side of our current 2 party mess. Ignorant describes the person who has never seen an actual bill, or looked at the voting record of the person they support. They just go by the last thing "their guy" said in the latest picture op speech. Ignorant describes someone who doesn't understand how our inspired system of checks and balances was intended to work, and all things good or bad are attributed to one man, one party or one government body.
Ignorant describes someone who doesn't see how taking one person's freedom today, in order to support a special interest group or political agenda, sets the stage for removing other freedoms down the road when the leadership changes.
The word socialism has been thrown around a lot in this current election, and there are many of us who feel like socialism is not the right direction for this country. Ignorant describes a person who claims to hate socialism but doesn't understand HOW everything they say and support falls into classic textbook examples of socialism.
A person who understands what is going on, and chooses to keep moving this way, is not ignorant! They make choices based on what they feel is the best for this country. We have the right to disagree! The trick question of the day may become.....will we always have the right to disagree?
With all of this buzzing around in my head, I got into a discussion with my son Justin, something which frequently happens while working together on the family chicken farm. We were discussing comments that he had heard, and questions raised by some of my students about what was so bad about socialism?
That is not an easy question, and our discussion came up with a valid reason for the challenge. Socialism is a great counterfeit.
Christianity, Judaism, moderate Islam and most other world "religions" have as part of their specific doctrine the idea that we are bound by faith to help those less blessed than ourselves. We are taught to search out the widow and the orphan and offer help. We are taught that the world around us is for our benefit, but that we must take care of it and treat it responsibly. We see that our association with like-minded people strengthens us in our resolve to live by "right" principles.
When Christianity or any of these benevolent religions is flourishing and strong, "righteous" believers will take care of the needs of those who can't care for themselves. But each of them has conditions regarding personal responsibility. There is little, if any, need for "administration". Merely constant admonition to believers to keep their own , and assistance in distributing the gifts of the charitable. On the other side, a person who refuses to try, who makes no effort to care for themselves, who functions as a leech on the group, is destined to be thrust out.
This is a very shorthand version of the system.
The counterfeit is forced charity....Socialism. A governing body decides what is "rightfully" acceptable as a standard of living. They make arbitrary decisions as to what constitutes "too much wealth", and set in place means to take and redistribute any wealth accumulated beyond this point. They decide for the individual as well as society, what is acceptable in public discourse, in public behavior. This government entity decides how each person should live, and those who attempt to live beyond this are penalized through this forced charity.
Sadly, however, this counterfeit is fraught with problems, one of which is a tendency toward corruption. Those who amass great wealth feel they have earned what they have, and they will do anything to protect it, even to a point of skirting the laws and values that used to be dear to them. Think of the fable of the sun, the wind and the old man. The wind claimed it could remove the old man's coat faster than the sun. The harder it blew, the colder it became, the tighter the man pulled his coat around himself. The sun shone pleasantly, and the old man shed his coat to enjoy the warmth.
These who have worked hard for their blessings of financial wealth will be like the old man. The harder one pulls to remove their blessings by force, the harder they will try to keep control. Allow them the freedom to succeed, and promote the concepts of charity and benevolance and many will willingly give much more than you could take from them. Will all..? No of course not! There will be greed and selfishness, but no government program is going to remove that. Only a change of peoples' hearts.
The other danger of socialism, maybe the greatest danger, is a tendency toward apathy. Take the American dream. We believe we can succeed!, We have been taught as part of our American heritage that each of us can make our own way in this world, and we can be hugely successful, or we can flop. Our own hard work, education, ingenuity, and perseverance make us what we want to become. If I believe that I can become a multimillionaire, these things are possible in this great country! I will have to work my backside off, but it can be done.
However, forced "charity", socialism, takes away my incentive. Why should I work and slave to make my business or farm ar anything grow, when I know that beyond a certain point the government is going to come and take it away to give to someone not willing to try as hard? Why not just let the government take care of me as well? Why should I attempt to better myself, when the government ensures that I am only allowed to keep a small portion my success? Of course the flipside question is ...Where does the government get it all? You know the answer. They take more, by lowering constantly what is "acceptable wealth", or raising the tax on success.
Listening to a radio interview about what socialism is in this country, it struck me. Socialism allows those who see nothing better for themselves, who don't feel the motivation to achieve their own American Dream, to piggyback off others. A person who can't see anything better from their own efforts, may be perfectly happy to ride on the backs of harder workers, under the disguise of social programs and government assistance.
Those of us who still believe that charity should be from the heart, not from the Legislature, need to stand up. We need to educate ourselves and those around us to the dangers of counterfeits. These counterfeits rob us of freedom to succeed, but ultimately they rob us of our motivation. Other freedoms will follow, if we allow it to thrive.
Monday, October 27, 2008
Football Secrets
Sometimes the power of a small phrase is astonishing. Case in point:
Our high school football team is struggling. They have had a bad couple of years, and they have fought hard to win the 2 games this year. Our homecoming game was this past Friday, and it was against a team that we can beat. The records on the season very similar; similar talents; should be a close game.
Several of my students play on the varsity team. I have tried to be encouraging, and as we were joking around and talking about the upcoming game, I had a stroke of silly genius.
In my 3rd year class, I have one our team's offensive linemen. He is a big kid, somewhere around 6'6", and I think he told me once about 280 lbs.(sorry if that's off). He is a very respectful student, good hard worker, and just generally an all-around nice young man. He is very likeable, and very competitive. We had talked in times past of the ability of the German language to sound harsh and angry, even if something pleasant was being said, just by speaking in a rough voice.
I had an idea. I told him I had a phrase, that if said just right, would give him a momentary advantage over his opponent. I gave him, in the harshest, yet quietest voice I could: " Du hast schöne Haare. Ich werde dir Blumen schenken". I promised him if he would say this with a growl, his opponent would lose his mental edge just long enough to get knocked on his keester. Well this student looked at me and said with raised eyebrows, " Herr Wahlquist, I can't say that. What if the kid speaks German, or he's an exchange student or something?" I told him that would give him an EXTRA edge. The phrase means "You have nice hair, i'm going to send you flowers". :)
Well, game night came and went. I heard on the news that weekend that we had lost by a score of 28-10. ( I should justify my absence from such an important event. I live 1hr 20 minutes from the school where I teach. This is due to running a family chicken farm, which needed my attention that night.) Not a fun homecoming! I decided to jokingly hound this lineman about not using my "secret weapon". When he finally came to class late in the day, I asked him why he hadn't used the phrase. To my astonishment, he responded, "I did Herr Wahlquist." I was amazed. He continued to tell me that he had only used the "hair" bit, and the other guy had hesitated and just as the ball was snapped said "Was that German?" He got knocked on his can! :)
Slightly taken aback, our big lineman helped him up (he's a good sport), and said yes. As they lined up again, the other guy indicated that he had lived for a few years in Germany. He still wasn't on his mental game. While he was talking to my guy, the ball was snapped, and one more time on his backside. :)
Well, this had not gone completely unnoticed by the other team. As they lined up one more time, somehow one questioned what the phrase meant. Well, my friend spoke english and said "you have nice hair." The other team's defensive line couldn't help laughing just a little bit, but their timing was off. The ball had just been snapped, and our offensive line blew the defense off the ball, and scored a touchdown!!
Too bad it was the only touchdown. Too bad I didn't give them a sheet of "useful" German phrases. Maybe we could have had a happy homecoming.
Our high school football team is struggling. They have had a bad couple of years, and they have fought hard to win the 2 games this year. Our homecoming game was this past Friday, and it was against a team that we can beat. The records on the season very similar; similar talents; should be a close game.
Several of my students play on the varsity team. I have tried to be encouraging, and as we were joking around and talking about the upcoming game, I had a stroke of silly genius.
In my 3rd year class, I have one our team's offensive linemen. He is a big kid, somewhere around 6'6", and I think he told me once about 280 lbs.(sorry if that's off). He is a very respectful student, good hard worker, and just generally an all-around nice young man. He is very likeable, and very competitive. We had talked in times past of the ability of the German language to sound harsh and angry, even if something pleasant was being said, just by speaking in a rough voice.
I had an idea. I told him I had a phrase, that if said just right, would give him a momentary advantage over his opponent. I gave him, in the harshest, yet quietest voice I could: " Du hast schöne Haare. Ich werde dir Blumen schenken". I promised him if he would say this with a growl, his opponent would lose his mental edge just long enough to get knocked on his keester. Well this student looked at me and said with raised eyebrows, " Herr Wahlquist, I can't say that. What if the kid speaks German, or he's an exchange student or something?" I told him that would give him an EXTRA edge. The phrase means "You have nice hair, i'm going to send you flowers". :)
Well, game night came and went. I heard on the news that weekend that we had lost by a score of 28-10. ( I should justify my absence from such an important event. I live 1hr 20 minutes from the school where I teach. This is due to running a family chicken farm, which needed my attention that night.) Not a fun homecoming! I decided to jokingly hound this lineman about not using my "secret weapon". When he finally came to class late in the day, I asked him why he hadn't used the phrase. To my astonishment, he responded, "I did Herr Wahlquist." I was amazed. He continued to tell me that he had only used the "hair" bit, and the other guy had hesitated and just as the ball was snapped said "Was that German?" He got knocked on his can! :)
Slightly taken aback, our big lineman helped him up (he's a good sport), and said yes. As they lined up again, the other guy indicated that he had lived for a few years in Germany. He still wasn't on his mental game. While he was talking to my guy, the ball was snapped, and one more time on his backside. :)
Well, this had not gone completely unnoticed by the other team. As they lined up one more time, somehow one questioned what the phrase meant. Well, my friend spoke english and said "you have nice hair." The other team's defensive line couldn't help laughing just a little bit, but their timing was off. The ball had just been snapped, and our offensive line blew the defense off the ball, and scored a touchdown!!
Too bad it was the only touchdown. Too bad I didn't give them a sheet of "useful" German phrases. Maybe we could have had a happy homecoming.
Saturday, October 25, 2008
Sweet Rewards
I was reading through one of Mom's posts this afternoon. It was one of those lazy Saturday afternoons, where the main jobs for the day had either been done, or been set to another day. I did some major maintenance on the farm, and some clean-up and dirt work to get ready for winter , as well as preparing for next spring's gardening. My other project needs one more good rain to help settle in some dirt where we are going to move the shed, so that I can start building Michelle's Dress Shop.
I didn't really have any other major projects ( don't know how that happened), so I sat and watched some football with Ian and Ben. Mostly I watched, they slept on the couch. Then I thought I would come look at some more of my family's blogs. It is their fault, you know, that I am even doing this.
I really enjoyed Mom's post about peaches and apricots. It did bring back a lot of fond memories. Those were some amazing production lines, and we sure enjoyed the fruits of our labor. But Mom forgot to mention one of the favorite results of those hot summer work days. Home made ice-cream. Naturally flavored peach and apricot.
My family has a long and close friendship with ice-cream. I don't remember specific events as a small infant, but we do have some pictures of my brother David with an ice-cream on his nose. I can only assume that I have a similar relationship with that cold and wonderful treat. Those summer trips to Utah were always highlighted by the fruit canning, the large amounts of fresh fruit and heavy cream, and the home-made cold gold.
I guess Mom is right, like always. We did learn to work. And we even learned that there is joy in work, as well as satisfaction in a job well done and a reward honestly earned. When we traveled to Toquerville, just north-ish of St.George, Utah, we had great examples. My grandparents were farmers, as far as I knew at the time. My Grandpa had been a school teacher, and they had always enhanced that career with whatever they could produce for themselves. In Utah they had a small farm (probably 15-20 acres?), and they kept cows, chickens, and fruit trees. They also had a big garden, which they planted near the house and watched with great care and energy. As a kid it always amazed me how much they could work, considering how old they were. It was just expected that anyone there would help in the garden, in the kitchen, and out in the orchard when needed. I loved spending time with my Grandpa and Grandma, so I think that helped make the work enjoyable.
I also saw the satisfaction they had when the work was done. That's why I would beg to have Grandpa wake me at 4 am to help drive the cows down to the milking barn, where he and my father would teach me how to milk a cow, without spilling a drop. They taught me the importance of treating the animal with care and gentleness, and we had many conversations about important personal and spiritual things. At least that's what my memory says. I couldn't tell you a single specific topic, but I know those early morning milking efforts were more than just a chore. we would then cart the big milk cans up to the house, where we would help grandparents get them strained and into jars for refrigeration. We repeated this process again at 4 pm. Later we would enjoy fresh whole milk with every meal, and that wonderful sweet,rich cream poured generously over piles of that fresh fruit.
The only way to make it better was to make it ice-cream. And even that was work, but boy was it worth it!! Mom and Grandma would work together to prepare the cream and fruit mixture, or vanilla or occasionally chocolate. Dad and Grandpa and usually all the kids would get out the big freezer. This was not one of these namby-pamby 1 1/2 qt. electric jobs. These were the big boys! 5+ qt. canister, hardwood barrel type, hand-cranked freezer. Oh, yeah. And I think Grandpa had 2 of them! Once the goods were in the machine, Dad and Grandpa would start cranking. We all took turns, and as we got older, the boys would make a contest out of who could make the last few turns. (As ice-cream freezes, you know, it gets harder to turn). Then we would line up to sample as Dad took out the dasher, and buzz with anticipation and kid frustration as he closed it, covered it, and buried it in more ice and salt, for the curing process. Dinner came first, with all it's preparation and clean-up.
Looking back, what a lesson I learned from ice-cream! We worked many long and hard hours, sometimes messy, sometimes even "gross", and it was all for something that would have to wait til later. It wasn't unpleasant. It wasn't even unfair. It was just the nature of good things. Work before rewards. Rewards less important than satisfaction in a job well done. Job well done, no matter what! Now, can I have two monster sized scoops, please. Both flavors!
I didn't really have any other major projects ( don't know how that happened), so I sat and watched some football with Ian and Ben. Mostly I watched, they slept on the couch. Then I thought I would come look at some more of my family's blogs. It is their fault, you know, that I am even doing this.
I really enjoyed Mom's post about peaches and apricots. It did bring back a lot of fond memories. Those were some amazing production lines, and we sure enjoyed the fruits of our labor. But Mom forgot to mention one of the favorite results of those hot summer work days. Home made ice-cream. Naturally flavored peach and apricot.
My family has a long and close friendship with ice-cream. I don't remember specific events as a small infant, but we do have some pictures of my brother David with an ice-cream on his nose. I can only assume that I have a similar relationship with that cold and wonderful treat. Those summer trips to Utah were always highlighted by the fruit canning, the large amounts of fresh fruit and heavy cream, and the home-made cold gold.
I guess Mom is right, like always. We did learn to work. And we even learned that there is joy in work, as well as satisfaction in a job well done and a reward honestly earned. When we traveled to Toquerville, just north-ish of St.George, Utah, we had great examples. My grandparents were farmers, as far as I knew at the time. My Grandpa had been a school teacher, and they had always enhanced that career with whatever they could produce for themselves. In Utah they had a small farm (probably 15-20 acres?), and they kept cows, chickens, and fruit trees. They also had a big garden, which they planted near the house and watched with great care and energy. As a kid it always amazed me how much they could work, considering how old they were. It was just expected that anyone there would help in the garden, in the kitchen, and out in the orchard when needed. I loved spending time with my Grandpa and Grandma, so I think that helped make the work enjoyable.
I also saw the satisfaction they had when the work was done. That's why I would beg to have Grandpa wake me at 4 am to help drive the cows down to the milking barn, where he and my father would teach me how to milk a cow, without spilling a drop. They taught me the importance of treating the animal with care and gentleness, and we had many conversations about important personal and spiritual things. At least that's what my memory says. I couldn't tell you a single specific topic, but I know those early morning milking efforts were more than just a chore. we would then cart the big milk cans up to the house, where we would help grandparents get them strained and into jars for refrigeration. We repeated this process again at 4 pm. Later we would enjoy fresh whole milk with every meal, and that wonderful sweet,rich cream poured generously over piles of that fresh fruit.
The only way to make it better was to make it ice-cream. And even that was work, but boy was it worth it!! Mom and Grandma would work together to prepare the cream and fruit mixture, or vanilla or occasionally chocolate. Dad and Grandpa and usually all the kids would get out the big freezer. This was not one of these namby-pamby 1 1/2 qt. electric jobs. These were the big boys! 5+ qt. canister, hardwood barrel type, hand-cranked freezer. Oh, yeah. And I think Grandpa had 2 of them! Once the goods were in the machine, Dad and Grandpa would start cranking. We all took turns, and as we got older, the boys would make a contest out of who could make the last few turns. (As ice-cream freezes, you know, it gets harder to turn). Then we would line up to sample as Dad took out the dasher, and buzz with anticipation and kid frustration as he closed it, covered it, and buried it in more ice and salt, for the curing process. Dinner came first, with all it's preparation and clean-up.
Looking back, what a lesson I learned from ice-cream! We worked many long and hard hours, sometimes messy, sometimes even "gross", and it was all for something that would have to wait til later. It wasn't unpleasant. It wasn't even unfair. It was just the nature of good things. Work before rewards. Rewards less important than satisfaction in a job well done. Job well done, no matter what! Now, can I have two monster sized scoops, please. Both flavors!
Friday, October 24, 2008
Stealing a classroom
You know, I was just killing time today, waiting for my sophomores to come back from a pep rally that I did not get to attend, and I got to thinking about something to blog.
I know, I should have been grading tests or something, but it wasn't as much fun.
I had been reading some things another teacher had posted outside their classroom, and it reminded me of my own high school days. Civics class had written up their idea of a student's bill or rights. It was enlightening to see the ironic combination of ideas that included total personal freedom, and no personal responsibility, while adding the very tricky concept of "universal care-giving".
I guess we were all kind of idealistic in our younger years, and we didn't always see (sometimes by choice), that the great ideas we fought for were extremely impractical, if not downright impossible, save for a totalitarian, yet benevolent governing body, and a purely selfless society. HA! Too many greedy and power-hungry people involved!
Thinking about zealous youth, I had promised elsewhere, that I would tell the story of stealing a classroom. Before I begin, however, I have to include a disclaimer.
Please repeat after me, and then have a witness sign an affidavit to the following:
" I hereby acknowledge that the following account, although true, is in no way meant to encourage me to try such behavior, and I furthermore acknowledge that any such attempt is in no way a reflection of Scott Wahlquist's (hereafter known as "Herr") negative influence on my teenage zeal to make all things right and equal and "FAIR" in the world, regardless of their apparent propriety or even 'legality' .
"I also hereby agree that I hold "Herr" harmless in the event that I should try such antics, and receive the subsequent penalties I so richly deserve."
"By continuing on in this blog, I agree to the terms set forth in the previous paragraphs."
Now that we have the legalese out of the way, let me set the stage.
Most of the following events took place my senior year in HS, Foothill HS, Bakersfield California, to be exact. ( I had learned so much from my freshman antics). The goal of all our stunts was to drive home the point that double standards for teachers and students were unfair. Oh The irony, huh?
My senior english teacher, Mr Brackley (whom many of you in my family will remember), was a bachelor, probably in his early to mid 30's when I was there. He might have been older, but I don't remember thinking of him as OLD, and definitely anyone over 35 was. (sorry Mom and Dad)
We had tried many times to convince him that we seniors deserved some special treatment. We thought we should be allowed to ignore the rule about food and drink in the classroom. (I guess that came from the fact that we had English right after lunch, and frequently were trying to wolf down the last bite or slurp down the last of our Big G....... oh wait, watch out for unpaid endorsements, right?) we didn't see the harm in finishing our lunch during the first few minutes of class.
Well, Mr. Brackley would have none of it. Yet he always had a cup of coffee, which he refilled out of a thermos at least once during our class. We had already tried curing this habit by dropping Alka S.. (oh watch out, endorsements again) into his coffee cup while our cheerleader friends distracted him (remember my post about love life?) That was great fun, but not the point of this post.
We also felt it unfair how harsh Mr. Brackley was about restroom passes. He actually had the gall to expect us to use the facilities on our own time! Was he aware how hard it was to get to McD, or Taco B and back to school in the short 40 minutes we had for lunch? There was no way to get lunch, get back, find parking and still use the restroom. I mean, come on!? What's 5 more minutes for your favorite seniors?
To add insult, he would usually come open the door for us, let us get started on our assignment, and then disappear down the hall to the restroom!!??!! That just had to stop!
Well, we had an unwitting ally to our evil plan. Our Physics teacher, ....... I just can't come up with a name.... was also well known to do something that was against good judgement, if not school policy. He always left his classroom unlocked and unattended during his planning period. He would go into the inner lab used by the teachers to prepare for class experiments. we determined that we could hold a dance, and he probably would be unaware of it. He was right across the "hall" in the next wing over.
So, one beautiful day, with our plan in place, we waited while Mr. Brackley calmly opened the door to let us in. As one of us watched him disappear down the hallway, the rest of us removed everything from his desk, carted the desk to the physics lab, and then replaced everything on the floor in its proper order, as if the desk had simple fallen into the floor. Even the coffee cup and thermos were in their rightful place. Everything else that moved also went for a walk.
When Mr. Brackley came in, he went to the board and started to write. We were sitting in our places, where our desks should have been, writing as if nothing were wrong. We watched for what felt like 5 minutes before he reached around blindly for his coffee cup, and discovered the emptiness. His facial expression was priceless. After several minutes of blustering, and threats, and finally promising not to punish those responsible, he convinced some to divulge the location of his classroom. Some of us "model Students" volunteered to go carry it back for him.
This was not the end of our stunts with poor Mr. B, but it was definitely the grandest. He may not have felt it at the time, but you know, we all liked Mr. B. We learned much about English Lit., and we had some great times, but mainly we learned that life doesn't have to be fair to be enjoyable. Sometimes the blatant unfairness of life leads to some of life's silliest, and fondest memories.
I know, I should have been grading tests or something, but it wasn't as much fun.
I had been reading some things another teacher had posted outside their classroom, and it reminded me of my own high school days. Civics class had written up their idea of a student's bill or rights. It was enlightening to see the ironic combination of ideas that included total personal freedom, and no personal responsibility, while adding the very tricky concept of "universal care-giving".
I guess we were all kind of idealistic in our younger years, and we didn't always see (sometimes by choice), that the great ideas we fought for were extremely impractical, if not downright impossible, save for a totalitarian, yet benevolent governing body, and a purely selfless society. HA! Too many greedy and power-hungry people involved!
Thinking about zealous youth, I had promised elsewhere, that I would tell the story of stealing a classroom. Before I begin, however, I have to include a disclaimer.
Please repeat after me, and then have a witness sign an affidavit to the following:
" I hereby acknowledge that the following account, although true, is in no way meant to encourage me to try such behavior, and I furthermore acknowledge that any such attempt is in no way a reflection of Scott Wahlquist's (hereafter known as "Herr") negative influence on my teenage zeal to make all things right and equal and "FAIR" in the world, regardless of their apparent propriety or even 'legality' .
"I also hereby agree that I hold "Herr" harmless in the event that I should try such antics, and receive the subsequent penalties I so richly deserve."
"By continuing on in this blog, I agree to the terms set forth in the previous paragraphs."
Now that we have the legalese out of the way, let me set the stage.
Most of the following events took place my senior year in HS, Foothill HS, Bakersfield California, to be exact. ( I had learned so much from my freshman antics). The goal of all our stunts was to drive home the point that double standards for teachers and students were unfair. Oh The irony, huh?
My senior english teacher, Mr Brackley (whom many of you in my family will remember), was a bachelor, probably in his early to mid 30's when I was there. He might have been older, but I don't remember thinking of him as OLD, and definitely anyone over 35 was. (sorry Mom and Dad)
We had tried many times to convince him that we seniors deserved some special treatment. We thought we should be allowed to ignore the rule about food and drink in the classroom. (I guess that came from the fact that we had English right after lunch, and frequently were trying to wolf down the last bite or slurp down the last of our Big G....... oh wait, watch out for unpaid endorsements, right?) we didn't see the harm in finishing our lunch during the first few minutes of class.
Well, Mr. Brackley would have none of it. Yet he always had a cup of coffee, which he refilled out of a thermos at least once during our class. We had already tried curing this habit by dropping Alka S.. (oh watch out, endorsements again) into his coffee cup while our cheerleader friends distracted him (remember my post about love life?) That was great fun, but not the point of this post.
We also felt it unfair how harsh Mr. Brackley was about restroom passes. He actually had the gall to expect us to use the facilities on our own time! Was he aware how hard it was to get to McD, or Taco B and back to school in the short 40 minutes we had for lunch? There was no way to get lunch, get back, find parking and still use the restroom. I mean, come on!? What's 5 more minutes for your favorite seniors?
To add insult, he would usually come open the door for us, let us get started on our assignment, and then disappear down the hall to the restroom!!??!! That just had to stop!
Well, we had an unwitting ally to our evil plan. Our Physics teacher, ....... I just can't come up with a name.... was also well known to do something that was against good judgement, if not school policy. He always left his classroom unlocked and unattended during his planning period. He would go into the inner lab used by the teachers to prepare for class experiments. we determined that we could hold a dance, and he probably would be unaware of it. He was right across the "hall" in the next wing over.
So, one beautiful day, with our plan in place, we waited while Mr. Brackley calmly opened the door to let us in. As one of us watched him disappear down the hallway, the rest of us removed everything from his desk, carted the desk to the physics lab, and then replaced everything on the floor in its proper order, as if the desk had simple fallen into the floor. Even the coffee cup and thermos were in their rightful place. Everything else that moved also went for a walk.
When Mr. Brackley came in, he went to the board and started to write. We were sitting in our places, where our desks should have been, writing as if nothing were wrong. We watched for what felt like 5 minutes before he reached around blindly for his coffee cup, and discovered the emptiness. His facial expression was priceless. After several minutes of blustering, and threats, and finally promising not to punish those responsible, he convinced some to divulge the location of his classroom. Some of us "model Students" volunteered to go carry it back for him.
This was not the end of our stunts with poor Mr. B, but it was definitely the grandest. He may not have felt it at the time, but you know, we all liked Mr. B. We learned much about English Lit., and we had some great times, but mainly we learned that life doesn't have to be fair to be enjoyable. Sometimes the blatant unfairness of life leads to some of life's silliest, and fondest memories.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
It may take me a while to figure this out. I have spent enough years learning how to form a halfway decent paragraph, that it makes me crazy to type one, and then have it all jammed together. If you know what I mean, and how to fix it, please enlighten me. Like I stated in my first post, I am partially computer literate.
Just to drive my point home, I put three hard returns between "literate" and "Just".
Isn't this FUN? trying to re-learn an old skill?
(two more hard returns) I really do love computers. I love to hate them. As a child, computers were some new-fangled, sci-fi gadget that only the government, rich people and a few businesses had. In High school, we only saw a small handful of computers outside of the main office, and those were not available to the students. The year after I graduated high school was the first year students were given access to the new computer lab. I think it had a grand total of 3 computers. Wow!! Look how far we have come.
(two more hard returns) In college, I learned a bit about these new toys, and even went so far as to take a semester course in programming BASIC. It was fun, I learned a lot of things, but the most I ever really accomplished, as I recall, was a program that would draw a figure, and then move it around the screen in random patterns until I hit enter or space bar or something. Then it would "blow-up". I should have been a game programmer. I hear some of them make millions.
My first home computer was probably one of the biggest purchases of my adult life. It was not the top of the line, but you technofiles out there will understand that in 1988, $2,500 would get you a pretty good computer. It had a lightning fast 386 kHz processor, and no RAM, but it had a whopping 40 MB hard drive and 2, COUNT THEM, 2 floppy drives.
I used it for school work, and some games, and wondered on many occasions if it was just a very expensive toy. I probably should have spent more time with Word-perfect and Microsoft word in those early days.
Now, I carry around my neck, a device which is more capable than 6 of that first computer, and I am still generations behind. My portable brain is the best filing system I have. The files are neat, they are compact. I can browse through them in just a matter of seconds, and I don't need to worry about moving floppy discs from one drive to another to move, copy or edit the "papers" I keep in those files.
I love computers.
ps I must have come close to figuring this out, because this one is better. But...... but......but I don't know what it is that I changed! AAARRGGGH!
Just to drive my point home, I put three hard returns between "literate" and "Just".
Isn't this FUN? trying to re-learn an old skill?
(two more hard returns) I really do love computers. I love to hate them. As a child, computers were some new-fangled, sci-fi gadget that only the government, rich people and a few businesses had. In High school, we only saw a small handful of computers outside of the main office, and those were not available to the students. The year after I graduated high school was the first year students were given access to the new computer lab. I think it had a grand total of 3 computers. Wow!! Look how far we have come.
(two more hard returns) In college, I learned a bit about these new toys, and even went so far as to take a semester course in programming BASIC. It was fun, I learned a lot of things, but the most I ever really accomplished, as I recall, was a program that would draw a figure, and then move it around the screen in random patterns until I hit enter or space bar or something. Then it would "blow-up". I should have been a game programmer. I hear some of them make millions.
My first home computer was probably one of the biggest purchases of my adult life. It was not the top of the line, but you technofiles out there will understand that in 1988, $2,500 would get you a pretty good computer. It had a lightning fast 386 kHz processor, and no RAM, but it had a whopping 40 MB hard drive and 2, COUNT THEM, 2 floppy drives.
I used it for school work, and some games, and wondered on many occasions if it was just a very expensive toy. I probably should have spent more time with Word-perfect and Microsoft word in those early days.
Now, I carry around my neck, a device which is more capable than 6 of that first computer, and I am still generations behind. My portable brain is the best filing system I have. The files are neat, they are compact. I can browse through them in just a matter of seconds, and I don't need to worry about moving floppy discs from one drive to another to move, copy or edit the "papers" I keep in those files.
I love computers.
ps I must have come close to figuring this out, because this one is better. But...... but......but I don't know what it is that I changed! AAARRGGGH!
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Teenagers!!
Teenagers! You can't stand them, but you're not allowed to shoot them! As a teacher in an American high school, I am daily reminded of this dilemma.
Don't get me wrong, I do actually enjoy spending time with teenagers. They are great entertainment. How any of us survived beyond our teenage years is actually a mystery. I remember my mother saying many times, particularly those times when I was causing some kind of trouble, that I would have children just like me. Well, I have 2-3 dozen! Students, smart, cynical, and full of mischief. Remind me to tell you about stealing a classroom sometime.
Don't get me wrong, I do actually enjoy spending time with teenagers. They are great entertainment. How any of us survived beyond our teenage years is actually a mystery. I remember my mother saying many times, particularly those times when I was causing some kind of trouble, that I would have children just like me. Well, I have 2-3 dozen! Students, smart, cynical, and full of mischief. Remind me to tell you about stealing a classroom sometime.
I don't remember being an overly troublesome child, and I was certainly not the most problematic teenager the world has ever seen, but I must have been doing something wrong for Mom to wish "myself" on me. I was never even intrigued by drugs, and being Mormon, alcohol and smoking were also never an issue in my teen years. I was just shy enough that my "love life" was limited to group activities and the occasional awkward date request, immediately followed by the (now apparent) lame brush off excuse. "I think I'm going to be sick that day." I wasn't so oblivious that I completely missed those, so I didn't do any real dating in high school. Maybe I was aiming too high. Cheerleaders, student body leaders, prize winning scholars, singers, dancers, etc. And strangely enough, many of them were in my circle of friends, and we were always out doing things together, groups of 10-12 or more. Strange huh?
Anyway, I digress........I must have done some stupid things to make my Mom wish such terrible things on me. I remember the one and only time I "ditched" (cut, sloughed, skipped, whatever) a class. I was late for my German class, and the German teacher was a strict "old" lady from East Germany. I thought I would be better off absent than late. I ran around the corner just as the bell rang, so I froze. Hey what do you want?! I was a Freshman!
I sat there for 2 minutes debating in my head what I should do, and then my friends, who were a year ahead of me in German, came out of the door. They were headed to the library to study German. ( can you see it coming? I know, I know, what a rebel!!) I went to the library with my friends, and studied German while ditching my German class!
My Mom picked me up for lunch that day. Didn't usually happen. ??? She asked me how German was going. ....???...... how did she know? Was she psychic? Had she tuned in to my rebellion that morning? I was mortified, stupefied and probably qualified as "stupidfied". I lied.
I said German was great! She asked what I had for homework. I told her some random page number from the book. She asked when it was due. I was sweating bullets. I told her the next day. She said nothing, and took me home for lunch.
When I got back home that afternoon, she reminded me about my German homework, and handed me a small packet of worksheets. To my bewildered expression she explained that Frau Silbermann actually only wanted me to do the first worksheet, but since I was so interested in the textbook pages, I could do them, too, along with the worksheets for the entire week. Oh, and by the way....They're due tomorrow!
Mom, thanks for helping me to see the error of my rebellious ways. I never skipped a class again, and I went on to become that German teacher dealing with dumb freshman stunts. Take the kid who missed class the day of a test. First period, starting at 8 am. That is rough!! Well, we have a legally mandated policy that requires us to give a make-up test if the student has a valid illness. (called in by a parent is enough) Next morning student x shows up, claiming to have been sick in bed, and asks about the test make-up. What's a reformed rebel to do? I asked him how the game went. "What game?"
"The street football game you were in, that had to get out of the road as I drove home from work yesterday afternoon.?
Monday, October 20, 2008
Personal responsibility
Well, here I am again! I have played with the set-up, I have made my first posting, and I am trying to think where I can go today.
As I was thinking about the computerized world we live in, and during a round of frantic grading, my mind was drawn to some conversations I have had with colleagues and parents over the last few years. I may have forgotten to mention, I am a teacher. I have been in the public school for 10 of the last 15 years. I started teaching German in American Fork, Utah. I love the German language and culture, and I really do enjoy sharing that love with my students. I taught in Utah for 7 years. I moved to Arkansas, and walked away from teaching for a while. (Another long story for another time.)
I took a 5+ year break when several things lined up to create a life change. One of them is the most significant thing I want to mention today. That is responsibilty.
I had reached a point in those years that the internal politics in school, and the atmosphere and attitude outside of school were making the teaching less enjoyable. Teachers around the country are scrambling to keep up with an ever growing volume of new regulations and requirements. We are all required to keep ourselves on the cutting edge of our profession. This is a good thing. We are falling behind as a nation, when compared with the success of other nations' students. But I have to say that we can require our teachers to all earn Doctoral degrees in their respective fields, and it will change very little in our success rankings, until we change some major things in our society.
We as a country have fallen into an ever-present attitude of "it's not my fault, it's not my responsibility". Just look around you for evidence of this. We injure ourselves doing something completely stupid, and we want to blame anyone but ourselves. We run through the house with scissors, fall and get stabbed, and we want to blame the manufacturer, because they didn't make the label big enough that said, "Hey stupid, don't run with scissors, you might get stabbed if you fall!!" We see report after report of criminals who get injured committing their crimes, and they succeed in suing the homeowner who is now double victim of the crime. We allow our students to get by with the least effort possible, because we are uncomfortable holding back students who haven't mastered the curriculum. Teachers can only do so much here, withour direct parental involvment.
We answer to the lowest common denominator in our schools, and wonder why we don't seem to be achieving more. ????????
We have tried for so many years to make everyone equal, that we are slowly succeeding in making everyone mediocre. When this comment makes you uncomfortable, consider this: Was your first response to wonder what the Government can do to fix this? What the educational system should do to fix it? How our teachers should change this system?
Then you are not alone. If there is a problem, but it is not our fault, it is not up to us to solve it, right? As evidenced by our growing Federal and state level programs to make everyone equal; financially, educationally, socially, etc., we have many who would like everything to be the Big Brother's responsibility.
The only way we can change this in our society, is for parents, teachers, preachers, mentors, friends, family, et al to recreate a worldview where we each have to make our own way, and we believe anything is possible. Hard work and perseverance will be rewarded with a feeling of accomplishment, and that is more important than "rewards", but the rewards will also be there.
Let's bring this country back to it's powerful roots! We can accomplish anything we set our minds to, but not if we expect someone else (particularly government) to get it done for us.
THAT'S THE CHANGE WE NEED!!
As I was thinking about the computerized world we live in, and during a round of frantic grading, my mind was drawn to some conversations I have had with colleagues and parents over the last few years. I may have forgotten to mention, I am a teacher. I have been in the public school for 10 of the last 15 years. I started teaching German in American Fork, Utah. I love the German language and culture, and I really do enjoy sharing that love with my students. I taught in Utah for 7 years. I moved to Arkansas, and walked away from teaching for a while. (Another long story for another time.)
I took a 5+ year break when several things lined up to create a life change. One of them is the most significant thing I want to mention today. That is responsibilty.
I had reached a point in those years that the internal politics in school, and the atmosphere and attitude outside of school were making the teaching less enjoyable. Teachers around the country are scrambling to keep up with an ever growing volume of new regulations and requirements. We are all required to keep ourselves on the cutting edge of our profession. This is a good thing. We are falling behind as a nation, when compared with the success of other nations' students. But I have to say that we can require our teachers to all earn Doctoral degrees in their respective fields, and it will change very little in our success rankings, until we change some major things in our society.
We as a country have fallen into an ever-present attitude of "it's not my fault, it's not my responsibility". Just look around you for evidence of this. We injure ourselves doing something completely stupid, and we want to blame anyone but ourselves. We run through the house with scissors, fall and get stabbed, and we want to blame the manufacturer, because they didn't make the label big enough that said, "Hey stupid, don't run with scissors, you might get stabbed if you fall!!" We see report after report of criminals who get injured committing their crimes, and they succeed in suing the homeowner who is now double victim of the crime. We allow our students to get by with the least effort possible, because we are uncomfortable holding back students who haven't mastered the curriculum. Teachers can only do so much here, withour direct parental involvment.
We answer to the lowest common denominator in our schools, and wonder why we don't seem to be achieving more. ????????
We have tried for so many years to make everyone equal, that we are slowly succeeding in making everyone mediocre. When this comment makes you uncomfortable, consider this: Was your first response to wonder what the Government can do to fix this? What the educational system should do to fix it? How our teachers should change this system?
Then you are not alone. If there is a problem, but it is not our fault, it is not up to us to solve it, right? As evidenced by our growing Federal and state level programs to make everyone equal; financially, educationally, socially, etc., we have many who would like everything to be the Big Brother's responsibility.
The only way we can change this in our society, is for parents, teachers, preachers, mentors, friends, family, et al to recreate a worldview where we each have to make our own way, and we believe anything is possible. Hard work and perseverance will be rewarded with a feeling of accomplishment, and that is more important than "rewards", but the rewards will also be there.
Let's bring this country back to it's powerful roots! We can accomplish anything we set our minds to, but not if we expect someone else (particularly government) to get it done for us.
THAT'S THE CHANGE WE NEED!!
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Greetings! Here I am, doing something I never would have predicted.
I am setting up a Blog! I have never considered myself computer illiterate, but I have likewise never been truly computer saavy. I love to hate computers, like so many of you. They can be the greatest tool, and sometimes a wondeful toy, but much of the time they are just the greatest aggravation in my life.
I have usually been one or two "versions" behind the latest advances, but not so far that I still use a Commodore 64, for those of you who even remember those.
I recently ( being about 3 hours ago) came back from a family get together out in California, where we celebrated my parents' 50th wedding anniversary. There had been much discussion about the prospects of blogging being a way for a widespread family tree to keep in contact with each other.
As I went through the steps to set this up, I had to come up with my Blog title, and it occured to me. I am the 5th of 9 children (perfect middle), married to the 2nd of 3, we have both crossed into "middle age", (hopefully not as bad as the "Middle Ages"), and we currently live pretty close to the middle of this great country.
So, welcome to musings from the middle.
I am setting up a Blog! I have never considered myself computer illiterate, but I have likewise never been truly computer saavy. I love to hate computers, like so many of you. They can be the greatest tool, and sometimes a wondeful toy, but much of the time they are just the greatest aggravation in my life.
I have usually been one or two "versions" behind the latest advances, but not so far that I still use a Commodore 64, for those of you who even remember those.
I recently ( being about 3 hours ago) came back from a family get together out in California, where we celebrated my parents' 50th wedding anniversary. There had been much discussion about the prospects of blogging being a way for a widespread family tree to keep in contact with each other.
As I went through the steps to set this up, I had to come up with my Blog title, and it occured to me. I am the 5th of 9 children (perfect middle), married to the 2nd of 3, we have both crossed into "middle age", (hopefully not as bad as the "Middle Ages"), and we currently live pretty close to the middle of this great country.
So, welcome to musings from the middle.
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