Lucinda

I woke up this morning with a Lucinda Williams song filling my mind. "Something About What Happens When We Talk" It's a sweet song, wistful and bittersweet:


If I had my way I'd be in your town.
I might not stay,
but at least I would've been around.
Cause there's something about what happens when we talk.
Something about what happens when we talk.

Does this make sense?
It doesn't matter anyway.
Is it coincidence or was it meant to be?
Cause there's something about what happens when we talk.
Something about what happens when we talk.

Conversation with you was like a drug.
It wasn't your face so much as it was your words.
Cause there's something about what happens when we talk.
Something about what happens when we talk.

Well I can't stay round, cause I'm going back south.
But all I regret now is I never kissed your mouth.
Cause there's something about what happens when we talk.
Something about what happens when we talk.
Cause there's something about what happens when we talk.
Something about what happens when we talk.


Then the alarm went off and 'Heart" came on, screaming 'Magic Man,' piece of mania that it is. It takes me back to summers in high school, waxing the upstairs floors of my grandparents' farmhouse, blasting the radio. 'Barracuda' and 'Magic Man' must have been played hourly, and I liked them, as they fit all of that teen angst I had.

I like Lucinda better.

Frustration

What's causing frustration across the U.S. and in numerous other places around the world?

The work of some damned Romanian hackers!

:-p





On the upside, which is more important, I had a most lovely weekend.

:-)

I Love My Freshmen

I have a great freshman class this year. I don't know what dynamics are making it so lovely, but I'm enjoying it. It's not that it's all perfect. There's the girl who reminds me of Tracy Flick. The groups as a whole can chatter enough to raise a barn roof. But- they shine, to me.

Part I:
In one of the classes is a boy who is so....cute. I want to pinch his round freckled cheeks. I was watching 'Stand By Me' with one of my sons this last weekend, and when Vern came on the screen, I started. 'He looks just like that student I was telling you about! The freshman who makes me smile all of the time!' Except my student looks more innocent and sweeter than the Vern character. And he sits right in front of my podium. :-)

Part II:
I did something new with my room this year. I have the wall above the green chalkboard in the front of the room covered with a bright blue piece of paper (covering the top 30" strip of the entire wall). Decorating that is an assignment which I had the seniors do. I had terms of some of the most glaring instances of injustice in our world written on paper and taped to that strip. I had them trace their hands and decorate them, along with a written inclusion. Then they picked an injustice they would like to help to erase in their lifetime. The hands are bright and colorful. It's a hopeful scene.

I also had the windows open today (cool enough not to have the A/C on!). My room was light and airy.

In my seventh period freshman class, one of the girls said,' You're room is so bright! It feels so good. It makes me feel like I'm coming home on a sunny day, and my dad is mowing the lawn, and my sister is in the pool. It just feels so nice!.....Thanks for creating such a nice learning environment for us!'

?????

Never have I had a student say that. It was a good, vibrant moment. Memorable. Another reason to be thankful for this blog, so it doesn't just become another lost good memory.

Moving on....

Part III:
Later, in my eighth period class, one of the freshmen accompanied a statement with 'Aaargh!.' (Yours is not to ask why....) I mentioned, 'You know, 'National Talk Like a Pirate Day' must be coming up.' Their faces were a sight to see. Bemusement, hope, wonder....almost like a child at Christmas. Like me, in some good moments. One student blurted out, 'How do you know this?!' Several of them looked at each other and nodded at this question and turned quickly back to me. I answered, 'It's just the sort of useless, quirky knowledge with which I like to fill my brain.' One of them answered, 'We're a lot alike.' (He was me 'aaaargh!' matey.). Later, while they were working on their groupwork, I looked up the date. This coming Monday! gulp. Not much time to prepare, and I'm leaving for the weekend. I'll have to see what I can do. I saw a party store that had blow-up palm trees a while back. I might check into that tomorrow. 'Twould be worth it.

A Bruderhof School's Peace Barn

The Bruderhof is an organization for which I have great respect. They send out a weekly Peace Calendar email. In this week's edition was a link to a site about the efforts of the 5th–8th grade students of the SpringValley Bruderhof School in Pennsylvania. The following words are from their website. I hope you'll take the time to look at it.

The Flight 93 Memorial:
September 11 changed all our lives. Here in southwest Pennsylvania, the crash of Flight 93 in our "backyard" directly affected us. We, the children of the Spring Valley Bruderhof School, wanted to give people hope and help them find peace. So we decided to transform a dilapidated barn near our school into a memorial to the victims of terrorism and war.

In Memory of Eric Hull:
The Peace Barn's memorial to a local soldier killed in Baghdad helps us remember all the soldiers killed and wounded in Iraq, their families, and all the other people on all sides who are suffering because of war.

http://www.peacebarn.org/articles/teenvoices/Flight-93-Memorial.htm

"Has word-finding difficulties"

Language is a funny thing. In the course of having a son with learning disabilities, many labels have come up. One was about the ability to find the precise word. I find that happening to me all of the time, though not to the same degree, and sometimes with funny consequences.

A couple of weeks ago, I went into the living room. Wanting to say 'hey' to my son with an endearing term, a quick succession of options flashed through the tip of my brain...'Honeybunch'...'Sweetums'...'Sweetiepie'.... (My sons are pretty tolerant of their mom).

What should come tumbling out of my mouth, but the worst possible combination, of course,

"Hey, Sweetiebuns!!"

Ah, to have been able to capture the looks on both of our faces at that moment. His slightly uneasy, slightly shocked, slightly amused...mine, the latter two. "Mom. You didn't just say that?"

My explanation as to why followed, along with the assurance that it would surely never come out that way again.

Language, what a ride.

My Mother's Hands

At some point in my adult life, I recognized the scent that I will always associate with my mother. I was cutting vegetables for dinner, and even after washing, the smell of chopped onion and celery clung to my skin. I was immediately taken back to the thousand of times that I breathed in that scent, as she adjusted my collar, or brushed my hair.

I love that smell.

Maybe for some people, the scent of their mothers is a certain perfume, but for me it is the gift that she provided for her children as we grew, the meals that we only really appreciated as we ventured into other peoples' homes and tasted what they had for supper.

My mother's early childhood was spent in a prison camp, where no babies under the age of two survived, and where all who lived there experienced starvation. She takes food seriously, and she passes on the gift of hospitality and love through meals.

I love that smell.

All in a Jumble

I love this blogging. I've written much less than I have wanted to, since I began it. During the day, maybe while I'm driving, I'll find myself thinking of things I want to write. Other tasks then distract me. That's alright, but it reinforces to me that I need to make changes in my life. It's not that I can't remember the important things, but I like the idea of using this to remember the serendipitous things I experience- linkages of words, lyrics, sights, smells, emotions,..... the funny ways that daily life can play out. For instance, writing that last sentence reminded me of two things I wanted to write about last week.

And so, back to changes.

I've made a lot in the last five years, and they've gone for the good overall. I like my life. In 2000 I was fighting just to stay afloat, and I made it. My sons are healthy and happy, and so am I. My ex would never admit it, but he seems happier, too.

Five years ago, I asked of my counselor, 'What if I don't like myself when I find out who I am?' I knew at the time what a devastatingly sad statement that was, but it was honest. It's hard to describe. It's not that I am different, in my core. It's that my core was so covered over with the layers I had assumed, trying to keep afloat in waters that were increasingly unfamiliar.

Yet here I am, having come back to myself in more fullness than I have ever experienced. I know that I need to make changes. I've gotten rid of a lot of stuff, but I feel like my house is overflowing. My garage has room for my car, but the rest is packed, full of items for a yard sale. But when I look around my house, I still feel an urge to shed. With my southern friends just now going through the initial aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, I feel a need to pare down and share. Pare down. Lighten up.

Pare down my possessions, but also pare down the extraneous things that take my time. Cut away the creeping cynicism that is a legacy of my last two romantic relationships. Lighten my load a little more. Free myself to be more available for whatever experiences cross my path.

This blogging is good. I have felt so jumbled up today. Now my thoughts feel a little lighter, anyway.

Before I began this, someone mentioned an aspect of blogging that I am really valuing. (Thanks, Joseph.) No apologies. Then Jennnn remarked the same thing after my second entry. This is all mine, and I can write what I want to. It's an interesting concept, because it is a public offering. It's not that writing is new to me. I have a handwritten journal, and I seem to express my thoughts better in writing. But the idea of doing what I want to, with no apologies, is one of those things I have made significant strides with since 2000. It was hard enough for me to be honest in my private journal, just a few years ago.