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!!!"
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
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.
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