Genuine

It was "Wax Museum" day at the school. Black History Month research led to biographies of some well-known and not-so-well-known African Americans. Students then memorized a short presentation, dressed as their subjects and became animated figures in the class wax museum.

Visitors to the museum walked up to a figure and pressed the red construction paper "start button." The student figures recited biographies of David Blackwell, Maya Angelou, Mae Jemison, Jackie Robinson and many others.

On one desk was a hastily written note next to the start button. "Out of order." Nearby sat a miserable Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Although his speech was well rehearsed, this wax figure had melted into a puddle of nervous despair. The sign was a genuine expression of emotion. I smiled, offered a little encouragement and moved on, hoping that Dr. King might make an appearance later.

Sure enough, a few minutes later, my office friend and I looked up to see Dr. King stride into the room and sit in a chair. I pressed the start button and the wax figure literally jumped to life. Facts were stated in a confident voice and then, the wax figure smiled.

The message from our wax figure today was more than information about a famous American. It was about allowing others to see real emotion and then trusting the support offered. Pretty brave thing to write that sign. Even braver to allow someone to help with the repair.

Backyard Nature Study

July 28

 We knew when she started building the nest that we'd have a "boarder" for about a month. Here are some photos of the robin family who grew up on our deck.

When the babies left the nest, I felt again the maternal pride of a job well done and maternal fear of lost control. The parent birds hover for a few days, supplementing the chicks' self-feeding and protecting them from predators.

My own three chicks have left the nest. They don't need my hovering. Indeed, they're building their own nests and raising their own young. What a luxury to have years to raise our chicks. What a blessing to watch that circle go around and applaud the efforts of my fledglings!

July 28

Aug. 6 - Two Hatchlings
See the tiny bills at the edge of the nest?

Pausing to check out the photographer

Aug. 6, Feeding Two

August 7, Three Chicks

August 8

August 8, Three Hungry Chicks

August 11, Eyes Open, Feathers

August 13, Nest is filling up.

August 13, Getting Stronger

August 14, Very Crowded Nest!

They grow so fast! August 14

Upset Parent - Wants the photographer OUT of the way!

Almost Ready to Fledge - August 14

August 15 - Fly, baby, fly! (Ok, glide!!)

Checking In!

I got a message the other day that someone had left a comment on a blog post! Wow! Someone is still reading my dormant blog? I'm so awful at keeping up a with journals, diaries, blogs.

While talking to a friend this weekend I remarked that I sometimes wish I could remember how it really felt to be ...... fill in the blank with an age. Following through on those old journals or diaries might have given me the insight I wished for. I kind of doubt it, though. Those efforts were more like calendar entries than a record of my feelings. To be honest, I doubt I will ever record my deepest feelings.

Here are some photos to catch you up on a few feelings, though...

Grammy Love

Compassion

Relief... Melanoma In Situ, Stage 0

Fun

Confusion?

Smile-worthy

Wasn't that me just yesterday?

Visiting the Past - Cabo Rojo, PR

Pride - Flowers Arranged for a Wedding

Grammy's Heart Has Melted

Feeling the Love

Invitation to Peace

Round and Round

The seasons they go 'round and 'round!

When I began this blog I was a new grandmother.

Now look! There she is - first grandchild - four years old.

As the Circle Game continues, this first grandchild is now the oldest of three siblings... just like her mom, just like her grammy. (Well, I actually am the oldest of 5 siblings.) She's growing up quickly. I want to slow her down while she just wants to grow up.

Happy birthday, cutie! Grammy loves you!

Apple Crisp Time

This afternoon I made my first apple crisp of the season. It's cooling now on the stove and smells wonderful. We'll dig into it soon.

As I cut up the apples and smooshed butter into sugar and oatmeal, I reflected on the events since the last time I made the first-of-the-season apple crisp.

In no particular order:
My school community lost a young teacher to cancer.
Our youngest daughter moved out of the house, became engaged AND married.
We welcomed the new son-in-law!
I had the pleasure of a sister and brother attending the wedding.
Our granddaughters are expecting a new sibling soon.
My husband moved out of the office and into the house when he retired.
We had MOUNTAINS of snow!
My school community organized a 5K in honor of the young teacher we lost.

Really, a lot has happened in the past year. Most of it has been good. Maybe I'll get back to writing!

Olympics

I'm watching the last of the men's 50K cross country skiers come to the finish line. I don't know if NBC kept the cameras rolling because it's good form to honor the last as well as the first, athlete to cross the line or if it was because the final finisher is a Dartmouth College student, but I am glad they did. I have an appreciation for the final finisher that I did not have before I limped across the finish line of a 5K last spring.

Yup, I was last. What a mind game that is. I spent a lot of emotional energy deciding whether it would be better to call it quits or suck up the shreds of pride I had left and get across the line. I even stopped to take a picture along the route! I wouldn't do that again. I would, instead, reach deeper and keep the finish line in focus. Yes, I'd rather not be last. I think there is a dignity in crossing the finish line that I did not understand before.

I've had another champion in mind this week as I've watched Olympic champions. This week was the anniversary of Gena's death. Now, there was a woman who never gave up! Her mantra was KEEP GOING! Even after 10 years of fighting cancer, I never really thought she'd stop. I like to think that God got tired of waiting for her, yanked her to-do list from her hand and said, "Come home."

We're now in the count-down to the big U.S. - Canada match for the ice hockey gold. Some will wear gold home, some will wear silver. They'll give it their all... just as the team that was eliminated first gave it their all.



This year, that 5K will be run again. I had toyed with the idea of scaling back and participating in the 1 mile "fun run" rather than marching through those 3.1 miles. The race is in 3 weeks and I haven't trained at all. My decision was made for me yesterday when I either dislocated or broke the little toe on my right foot. The way is clear, now. I'll be a course cheerleader. I'll wait for the last runner or walker on the course and, with all my heart, yell, "KEEP GOING!"

Remembering the Butterflies

Today, November 25, is the anniversary of the 1960 assasinations of Minerva, Patria and Maria Teresa Mirabal, along with their driver and friend Rufino de la Cruz. Known in the Dominican Republic as the Butterfly Sisters, they were working to end the dictatorship of Rafael Trujillo. Their story is the subject of Julia Alvarez' book, In the Time of the Butterflies. Their home is both a museum and an extension of the national cemetary.

It is a peaceful place, a beautiful garden spot filled with the powerful story of the Mirabal women. If you are lucky enough to visit, you might be even luckier and encounter Dede, the sister who tends the memories and keeps the story alive.



On November 25, 1999, the United Nations established an annual International Day for the Elimination of Violence against Women. The date was chosen to honor the Butterfly Sisters. They worked for release from the tyranny of a dictator. Join in the work for release of tyranny from all abuse against women.