Or “more kids say the darndest things”
“No! No Gwacie! Gimme it baaack!” Ellen, the two year old protested. Struggling to get the toy, comb, condiment, whatever it was back from her four year old sister Grace at the dinner table. I don’t really remember what it was they were fighting over, because my wife Bethany and I were so excited.
“Yeah Ellie! You got your sister’s name right!!!” we cheered and clapped. If you remember from a few columns back, Ellen thinks that Garce’s name is “Hewlwn.” We’ve been working to correct this for some time.
The parenting books all say you’re supposed to reward positive behavior with such praise. We’ve applauded Ellie’s proper use of “the big girl potty” so much this way that now when we flush the toilet she claps for us, as it “Yeah Daddy (or Mommy), you wen powddy by yosewf!”
The victory didn’t last long. We decided to play a game of point-to-the-family-member-and-ask-their name. It didn’t go all that well.
Parent: Points to me, “What’s HIS name?”
Ellen: “Daddy!”
Parent: “Yeah!!! great job,” points to Bethany, “What’s HER name?”
Ellen: “Mommy!”
Parent: “Hurrah! Wonderful, you’re so smart,” points to older sister, “What’s HER name?”
Ellen: “GwHelwen!”
Parent: “Noo-o, no, sweety, her name is ‘Gracie.’ GRAY-SEE. Sigh.” In desperation, points to Ellen herself, “Okay, then what’s YOUR name?”
Ellen: “ummmmm… I ME!”
Well, at least she’s mastered the use of personal pronouns. She’s starting to repeat lots of what we say, that’s been a lot of fun. We missed many of those typical toddler benchmarks with Grace. Those of you who know her, know that she’s pretty hard to understand much of the time. At the risk of embarrassing her years from now or “airing my dirty laundry in the press,” I’d like to try to explain it to you.
Grace suffers from what is called Dysarthria. Dysarthria is a speech disorder that is due to a weakness or in-coordination of the speech muscles. Speech is slow, weak, imprecise or uncoordinated. It can affect both children and adults. "Childhood dysarthria" can often be a symptom of a disease, such as cerebral palsy, muscular dystrophy, or Bell’s palsy. Grace does not have any of these.
By the way none of those are forms of mental retardation. I say this because many of us might mistake them for forms of autism, Down’s syndrome or severe mental or learning disabilities. They’re muscle, nerve, or speech problems, not problems with intelligence or learning abilities.
A child once asked me if Grace was “retarded.” I held it together and didn’t cry or lash out in anger, instead I did my best to explain what Dysarthria is, but I took a long walk alone to wrestle with God when I was done.
Someone recently asked if we planned to hold Grace back from kindergarten since she was so behind. We were dumbfounded because as far as we or her teachers and doctors can tell, she’s right where she needs to be. Recognizes her name, knows her colors, counts to twenty, gets dressed by herself, starts the VCR by herself… We’re just getting stated on zipping up her coat though.
Besides, there are more forms of intelligence than math or language. Harvard Education Professor Howard Gardener teaches that there are multiple forms of intelligences.
You know how they say that if you lose one of your senses, you’re others become more acute? Like how blind people have really good hearing? Well, I think Grace has compensated for some of her weaknesses with other strengths. I know I’m biased as an Art teacher, but I think she’s got spatial intelligence ("picture smart"). Grace loves to paint and cut things out. She experiments with neutral colors and cuts out “hair-styles” and beards and hats for people.
There’s bodily-kinesthetic intelligence ("body smart"), not Grace’s area, but that would be consistent with Dysarthria since it has to do with muscle and nerve development. This would be Ellen’s area. This chick loves to jump off of high furniture and land on her feet and she loves to throw balls. Although, in Grace’s imagination, she’s come up with her own basketball league- the Dinosaur league. The boys are the “Sharp-tooths” and the girls are the “little foots.” You have to see the cartoon movie “Land before Time.”
There’s also musical intelligence ("music smart") Grace loves to sing and dance, but obviously the speech and coordination things hamper this.
There’s Intra-personal intelligence ("self smart") too many of us think we have this but don’t. And of course there’s interpersonal intelligence ("people smart"). I’d like to think Grace has this, she’s usually pretty sensitive and compassionate and a fairly decent judge of character.
In both adults and children, Dysarthria can result from head injury or stroke. As far as we can tell, Grace’s Dysarthria is a result of trauma in the womb.
She had her umbilical chord wrapped around her neck, making matters worse, she got stuck in the birth canal during labor. Unfortunately the policy of the HMO in California where she was delivered was to encourage natural child-birth as much as possible and to discourage Caesarian sections whenever possible.
Of course, we haven’t been able to convince our insurance company that this is what caused it, and we seem can’t get ample proof from the HMO to satisfy them. They’re policy is that they’ll pay to get help if it was caused by trauma, but not if it’s a “pre-existing condition/congenital condition.” But, in theory, she’ll grow out of it and eventually her speech will improve at least somewhat. And so far, she’s made friends easily and hasn’t had to endure any cruel teasing from her classmates. Of course, she might not tell us if she had, we might not understand, literally.
If you’d like to learn more about Dysarthria you can visit these websites, http://www.asha.org/public/speech/disorders/dysarthria.htm, http://home.ica.net/~fred/anch10-1.htm
I know this column has gotten long again but I feel bad that it’s also gotten pretty somber, so I’d like to leave you with a couple more Ellie stories. One Sunday we sat in the balcony at church, “Grammy Mawdge,” is an organist. We had the hardest time convincing Ellie that there weren’t “Monstaws” living behind the organ pipes.
Last Sunday Ellen noticed the stained glass window in the back of Jesus praying at Gesthemane.
“He sad, he cwying,” Ellie noticed.
“Yes, He is, why do you think He’s sad?” I asked her.
“He want His mommy,” she explained.
Thursday, January 29, 2004
Thursday, January 22, 2004
Looking for Stability
My own personal “9/11” is “431.” It’s nothing like “420.”
“420” is a number used by teenagers. To some it refers to 4:20 pm, the supposed average time most high school marijuana users light up. For others it represents April 20th, Adolph Hitler’s birthday. “420” reminds still others of the Columbine High School Massacre which occurred on April 20, 1999.
“431” is a time. It’s the time in the morning when I most often wake up when I’m suffering from insomnia.
At 4:31 A.M., Pacific Standard Time, on Monday, January 17, a magnitude 6.8 earthquake struck the densely populated San Fernando Valley, in northern Los Angeles. Thousands of aftershocks, many in the magnitude 4.0 to 5.0 range, rocked the valley during the next few weeks.
Initially they CALLED it a 6.5, then 6.7. There were rumors floating around L.A. in 1994 that it was closer to a 7.2, but that Cal Tech stuck with 6.8 because many insurance companies wouldn’t have to pay for any damages produced by any earthquake of a 7.0 magnitude or higher.
Anything above a 7 is considered an “act of God.” Believe me, if you’ve ever experienced an earthquake above a 5.0, you’d call it an “act of God.”
It was our first year out of college. We were teaching at L.A. Lutheran Jr/Sr High School. Actually, I spent the mornings at Trinity middle school in Reseda and spent my lunch hours on the freeway to get to LHS in the north Valley for the afternoon. First year teaching is hard for anyone. We lived in a tiny one-bedroom in a poor suburb called Sylmar. 600 sq feet for $660 per month.
My in-laws, Marge and Allan Neddermeyer were visiting us during the three-day MLKjr weekend.
They were supposed to fly home Monday. Saturday night there had been a small earthquake out in the ocean, off the coast from Malibu. It had been unseasonably warm, in the eighties. Natives called it “earthquake weather,” but that meant nothing to us.
We had purchased a new couch, but the Salvation Army wasn’t making pick ups on Sunday, so we had to store our old sofa (a pull out bed) in the garage. We propped it up against the wall next to our car. “Is it sturdy enough? Oh yeah, the only thing that would make that thing fall would be an earth quake.” Prophetic, we never did gat that dent out of the hood, but many or our neighbors had the top two stories of apartments bury the cars in their first floor garages!
Mom and Dad were our guests, so they got the bedroom. Doors on either side of the bathroom separated us from them in the living room. We were on an air mattress , when we made the bed we chose to sleep with our feet toward the entertainment system. That was a good decision, since the TV would’ve landed on our heads if we’d slept the other way.
At 4:31 we were rudely awakened by the quake. The air mattress felt like a pontoon raft in white water rapids shooting down the Colorado river in the Grand Canyon. Experts say that it didn’t last more than 18-30 seconds but it felt like several minutes. Bethany later teased me because I was reciting the Lord’s Prayer over and over as fast as I could. I’ve done that on really scary roller coasters too while my knuckles turn white.
Pitch black since all power was out. Battery powered car and home alarms were screaming, neighbors and their children crying and screaming, your body filled with adrenaline just like it is right after a car accident…you can see that this would be the one situation where it would not be so irrational to imagine that this was the end of the world.
Our front door was ajar, but jammed so that it wouldn’t open much wider. All of the bathroom drawers were out of the vanity. Since doors on both sides of the bathroom opened in, they were jammed and we were separated from our parents in the bedroom on the other side. The refrigerator was out of its hole and leaning against the kitchen counter. The microwave had been thrown 8 or 10 feet across the kitchen.
When we walked across the room glass crunched under our bare feet. If it weren’t covered by a layer of books that fell off the shelves, our feet would’ve surely been bloody.
When the first aftershock came, we felt like we were on a rope bridge, or in a small boat being tossed around on a stormy sea, when all four of us had gotten Marge and Allan out of the bedroom, we got out of the apartment. The pool in the center courtyard was a little more than half empty. Dozens of neighbors gathered together on the curb of the street outside the apartment complex. All of us in our underwear, most without shoes. It’s amazing how cold it is at 5 o’clock in the morning in January, even in Southern California! Some Good Samaritans with shoes and flash lights ventured back inside to retrieve blackest and robes for others. When an aftershock would hit, it felt as if the asphalt were waving like a billowing blanket on a clothesline in the breeze. It’s a surreal feeling.
Dozens of strangers sitting on the curb the curb together. Several were smoking cigarettes to try to settle their nerves even though we could all smell the natural gas escaping from severed gas lines. We heard siren after siren and helicopter after helicopter, but no police or ambulance ever stopped at our complex. That meant that this had to be huge. Was this the legendary “big one?” How big was it? What was left of L.A.? Was it WWIII? The end of the world? Some kind of disaster movie? A trailer park across the freeway from our complex blazed with fires. This and the dawn were the only lights we had.
Official reports put the death toll around 57, including a janitor who was smashed by the parking garage at the Northridge Mall. More than 1,500 people were seriously injured. 9,000 homes and businesses were still without electricity for days afterward. 20,000 without gas; and over 48,500 had little or no water.
The official reports say that nearly 12,500 structures were damaged, leaving thousands temporarily homeless. 6% of the over 66 thousand buildings inspected were severely damaged (“red tagged”) and 17% were moderately damaged (“yellow tagged”).
The strange thing about an earthquake is that it fishers out like the spider-web cracks in your windshield when it’s hit by a pebble. So our apartment was damaged beyond repair, but not destroyed, another building in our complex was damaged first, the top floors caved in on the lowest level. One neighbor had just pulled out of his garage at 4:30 on his way to National Guard duty. He said that he hit his remote for his garage door to come down, but instead the entire building came down! Yet less than 2 miles away we had a fellow teacher who had only one pitcher fall off of her kitchen counter. She was a native and wasn’t even awakened by the quake.
Our apartment was red tagged. We were homeless. Later that morning gathered clothes and photo albums into our car and somehow made it to a cousin’s house a couple of hours south. There we sat dazed watching their CNN all day, seeing lines of people buying bottled water at grocery stores and horror stories about deaths and desperate searches for survivors.
Marge and Allan stayed another week or two to help us find a new apartment and salvage the rest of our belongings. The airline graciously honored their passes. Parents and kids sometimes become friends when the kids become adults, but few people have a bond like those of us who’ve been through a crisis together.
And like a soldier, a decade later, I still struggle with post traumatic stress disorder. More stressed, irritable, depressed and sleepless.
According to Reuters News Service, at 5:26 AM on 26 December 2003, an earthquake shook a large area of Iran. The epicenter of the devastating earthquake is located a few miles South West of a city called Bam. I bet the survivors thought that it lived up to its name that morning.
Iranian scientists revised the magnitude up to 6.8, from a previous estimate of 6.3 on the Richter scale. Yeah, try over 7.0, guys. Some Iranian officials have estimated their death toll at nearly 50,000.
Los Angeles architects, engineers, and emergency service people plan and train for earthquakes with the most advanced technology in the world. In Bam, Iran, homes aren’t much different than they were in the sixth century, simple mud adobe.
Reuters reported that U.N. officials said about 40,000 people are left in Bam - most spending the bitterly cold nights in tents - out of an original population of 103,000. The rest are thought to be either dead, missing, in hospital or had gotten the hell away from there. I can’t blame them, I left L.A. for Iowa looking for more stable ground.
“420” is a number used by teenagers. To some it refers to 4:20 pm, the supposed average time most high school marijuana users light up. For others it represents April 20th, Adolph Hitler’s birthday. “420” reminds still others of the Columbine High School Massacre which occurred on April 20, 1999.
“431” is a time. It’s the time in the morning when I most often wake up when I’m suffering from insomnia.
At 4:31 A.M., Pacific Standard Time, on Monday, January 17, a magnitude 6.8 earthquake struck the densely populated San Fernando Valley, in northern Los Angeles. Thousands of aftershocks, many in the magnitude 4.0 to 5.0 range, rocked the valley during the next few weeks.
Initially they CALLED it a 6.5, then 6.7. There were rumors floating around L.A. in 1994 that it was closer to a 7.2, but that Cal Tech stuck with 6.8 because many insurance companies wouldn’t have to pay for any damages produced by any earthquake of a 7.0 magnitude or higher.
Anything above a 7 is considered an “act of God.” Believe me, if you’ve ever experienced an earthquake above a 5.0, you’d call it an “act of God.”
It was our first year out of college. We were teaching at L.A. Lutheran Jr/Sr High School. Actually, I spent the mornings at Trinity middle school in Reseda and spent my lunch hours on the freeway to get to LHS in the north Valley for the afternoon. First year teaching is hard for anyone. We lived in a tiny one-bedroom in a poor suburb called Sylmar. 600 sq feet for $660 per month.
My in-laws, Marge and Allan Neddermeyer were visiting us during the three-day MLKjr weekend.
They were supposed to fly home Monday. Saturday night there had been a small earthquake out in the ocean, off the coast from Malibu. It had been unseasonably warm, in the eighties. Natives called it “earthquake weather,” but that meant nothing to us.
We had purchased a new couch, but the Salvation Army wasn’t making pick ups on Sunday, so we had to store our old sofa (a pull out bed) in the garage. We propped it up against the wall next to our car. “Is it sturdy enough? Oh yeah, the only thing that would make that thing fall would be an earth quake.” Prophetic, we never did gat that dent out of the hood, but many or our neighbors had the top two stories of apartments bury the cars in their first floor garages!
Mom and Dad were our guests, so they got the bedroom. Doors on either side of the bathroom separated us from them in the living room. We were on an air mattress , when we made the bed we chose to sleep with our feet toward the entertainment system. That was a good decision, since the TV would’ve landed on our heads if we’d slept the other way.
At 4:31 we were rudely awakened by the quake. The air mattress felt like a pontoon raft in white water rapids shooting down the Colorado river in the Grand Canyon. Experts say that it didn’t last more than 18-30 seconds but it felt like several minutes. Bethany later teased me because I was reciting the Lord’s Prayer over and over as fast as I could. I’ve done that on really scary roller coasters too while my knuckles turn white.
Pitch black since all power was out. Battery powered car and home alarms were screaming, neighbors and their children crying and screaming, your body filled with adrenaline just like it is right after a car accident…you can see that this would be the one situation where it would not be so irrational to imagine that this was the end of the world.
Our front door was ajar, but jammed so that it wouldn’t open much wider. All of the bathroom drawers were out of the vanity. Since doors on both sides of the bathroom opened in, they were jammed and we were separated from our parents in the bedroom on the other side. The refrigerator was out of its hole and leaning against the kitchen counter. The microwave had been thrown 8 or 10 feet across the kitchen.
When we walked across the room glass crunched under our bare feet. If it weren’t covered by a layer of books that fell off the shelves, our feet would’ve surely been bloody.
When the first aftershock came, we felt like we were on a rope bridge, or in a small boat being tossed around on a stormy sea, when all four of us had gotten Marge and Allan out of the bedroom, we got out of the apartment. The pool in the center courtyard was a little more than half empty. Dozens of neighbors gathered together on the curb of the street outside the apartment complex. All of us in our underwear, most without shoes. It’s amazing how cold it is at 5 o’clock in the morning in January, even in Southern California! Some Good Samaritans with shoes and flash lights ventured back inside to retrieve blackest and robes for others. When an aftershock would hit, it felt as if the asphalt were waving like a billowing blanket on a clothesline in the breeze. It’s a surreal feeling.
Dozens of strangers sitting on the curb the curb together. Several were smoking cigarettes to try to settle their nerves even though we could all smell the natural gas escaping from severed gas lines. We heard siren after siren and helicopter after helicopter, but no police or ambulance ever stopped at our complex. That meant that this had to be huge. Was this the legendary “big one?” How big was it? What was left of L.A.? Was it WWIII? The end of the world? Some kind of disaster movie? A trailer park across the freeway from our complex blazed with fires. This and the dawn were the only lights we had.
Official reports put the death toll around 57, including a janitor who was smashed by the parking garage at the Northridge Mall. More than 1,500 people were seriously injured. 9,000 homes and businesses were still without electricity for days afterward. 20,000 without gas; and over 48,500 had little or no water.
The official reports say that nearly 12,500 structures were damaged, leaving thousands temporarily homeless. 6% of the over 66 thousand buildings inspected were severely damaged (“red tagged”) and 17% were moderately damaged (“yellow tagged”).
The strange thing about an earthquake is that it fishers out like the spider-web cracks in your windshield when it’s hit by a pebble. So our apartment was damaged beyond repair, but not destroyed, another building in our complex was damaged first, the top floors caved in on the lowest level. One neighbor had just pulled out of his garage at 4:30 on his way to National Guard duty. He said that he hit his remote for his garage door to come down, but instead the entire building came down! Yet less than 2 miles away we had a fellow teacher who had only one pitcher fall off of her kitchen counter. She was a native and wasn’t even awakened by the quake.
Our apartment was red tagged. We were homeless. Later that morning gathered clothes and photo albums into our car and somehow made it to a cousin’s house a couple of hours south. There we sat dazed watching their CNN all day, seeing lines of people buying bottled water at grocery stores and horror stories about deaths and desperate searches for survivors.
Marge and Allan stayed another week or two to help us find a new apartment and salvage the rest of our belongings. The airline graciously honored their passes. Parents and kids sometimes become friends when the kids become adults, but few people have a bond like those of us who’ve been through a crisis together.
And like a soldier, a decade later, I still struggle with post traumatic stress disorder. More stressed, irritable, depressed and sleepless.
According to Reuters News Service, at 5:26 AM on 26 December 2003, an earthquake shook a large area of Iran. The epicenter of the devastating earthquake is located a few miles South West of a city called Bam. I bet the survivors thought that it lived up to its name that morning.
Iranian scientists revised the magnitude up to 6.8, from a previous estimate of 6.3 on the Richter scale. Yeah, try over 7.0, guys. Some Iranian officials have estimated their death toll at nearly 50,000.
Los Angeles architects, engineers, and emergency service people plan and train for earthquakes with the most advanced technology in the world. In Bam, Iran, homes aren’t much different than they were in the sixth century, simple mud adobe.
Reuters reported that U.N. officials said about 40,000 people are left in Bam - most spending the bitterly cold nights in tents - out of an original population of 103,000. The rest are thought to be either dead, missing, in hospital or had gotten the hell away from there. I can’t blame them, I left L.A. for Iowa looking for more stable ground.
Thursday, January 15, 2004
Kids say the darnedest things
I thought Gracie used to say funny things. Other kids are constantly saying “Why?” When she was two and we’d be out in public she’d keep pointing to people and asking “Who’s that guy? Who’s ‘dat guy?”
Just before Christmas I took her to the doctor in Denison for an awful cough. It was actually a funny story to begin with. The earliest they could see her was “sometime after three.” I took my last hour class off so that I could leave school early. I called the babysitter to let her know I’d be picking Grace up around 2:30.
“Oh, that’s too bad,” said Judy Bockeman, Gracie’s babysitter, “Santa was going to come about 2:45.”
“Oh, well, I hate to be a Grinch, but Grace’s seen him several times this season already, that’s just the way it’s gotta be,” I sighed.
No problem, the Dunlap highway is no L.A. freeway- it has no lights and almost no traffic. Except that this day some farmer was moving at least 30 head of cattle along the highway. A couple of pick-ups, a couple of four-runners, at a cow’s pace.
So she got to see Santa because I didn’t get there till ten after three. Well, we got to the doctors’ by 3:40 and didn’t get in till 4:30, but that’s the way doctor appointments go, right?
My point was, I had almost a half hour alone in the van with one of my kids, so I tried my best to spark up a conversation. I asked her about Santa.
She told me he drives a blue pick-up. “What about his sleigh?” I asked her, “Does he pull the sleigh with the pick-up or do the reindeer pull the pick-up?”
“No, silly!” she protested, “That’s only on Christmas Eve!”
“What is, the pick-up?” I asked.
“No, da sleigh is only on Christmas Eve, da rest of da time he drives a bwoo pick-up!” she explained.
Evidently Santa only rides the fire truck to the Commercial club’s Santa Claus Night.
Anyway, I used to think that Gracie said funny things, like when she scolds our cat, she calls him “King Neddermeyer!” Apparently he doesn’t have a middle name or I’m sure she’d use it too.
I used to think that Gracie said funny things, but now her little sister Ellie has become a chatterbox.
One night she was dipping her green beans in her catsup as if they were French fries. “Mmmmm, yum!” she said.
“Is that good?” I asked.
She paused, looked at the green bean in her hand and wrinkled up her little brow, finally she protested-
“Dat not a ‘good,’ dat’s a BEAN!”
I understand why she calls her Grandma Marge “Mawdgie.” I THINK I can understand that she calls her Great-Grandma Laura “Mawdgie,” I just hope she doesn’t call my Mom that the next time she sees her.
What I don’t get is why she calls Grace “Helwen.”
“No, no honey,” we try to explain to her “YOUR name is ‘Ellen,’ her name is ‘Gracie,’ can you say ‘Gracie?’”
“Gwacie,” she’ll say.
“Good, that’s good, now what’s HER name?” we’ll ask and point to Grace.
“Helwen!”
It’s crazy, I’ll say “Ellen, please go get your sister ‘Grace,’ supper’s ready.” and invariably, she’ll start calling “HELWEN! Suppa’s weady!...Where’s Helwen?” I just don’t get it.
The cutest story my cheerleaders love to hear me tell was when I was cleaning the kitchen the night before her birthday party.
“Da-aad, what doing?” asked Ellie.
“I’m cleaning” I answered.
“Why?”
“Uh, because we want the house to look nice,” I said.
“Why?” she pursued further.
“Because we’re going to have people over,” I continued.
“Why?”
“Because it’s your birthday! We’re having a party, you’re going to be TWO!” I said, hoping to see her get excited.
In stead she paused and crunched up her little brow for almost half a minute, finally she waved her hand at me, frowned and protested- “No, YOU’RE TWO!”
Just before Christmas I took her to the doctor in Denison for an awful cough. It was actually a funny story to begin with. The earliest they could see her was “sometime after three.” I took my last hour class off so that I could leave school early. I called the babysitter to let her know I’d be picking Grace up around 2:30.
“Oh, that’s too bad,” said Judy Bockeman, Gracie’s babysitter, “Santa was going to come about 2:45.”
“Oh, well, I hate to be a Grinch, but Grace’s seen him several times this season already, that’s just the way it’s gotta be,” I sighed.
No problem, the Dunlap highway is no L.A. freeway- it has no lights and almost no traffic. Except that this day some farmer was moving at least 30 head of cattle along the highway. A couple of pick-ups, a couple of four-runners, at a cow’s pace.
So she got to see Santa because I didn’t get there till ten after three. Well, we got to the doctors’ by 3:40 and didn’t get in till 4:30, but that’s the way doctor appointments go, right?
My point was, I had almost a half hour alone in the van with one of my kids, so I tried my best to spark up a conversation. I asked her about Santa.
She told me he drives a blue pick-up. “What about his sleigh?” I asked her, “Does he pull the sleigh with the pick-up or do the reindeer pull the pick-up?”
“No, silly!” she protested, “That’s only on Christmas Eve!”
“What is, the pick-up?” I asked.
“No, da sleigh is only on Christmas Eve, da rest of da time he drives a bwoo pick-up!” she explained.
Evidently Santa only rides the fire truck to the Commercial club’s Santa Claus Night.
Anyway, I used to think that Gracie said funny things, like when she scolds our cat, she calls him “King Neddermeyer!” Apparently he doesn’t have a middle name or I’m sure she’d use it too.
I used to think that Gracie said funny things, but now her little sister Ellie has become a chatterbox.
One night she was dipping her green beans in her catsup as if they were French fries. “Mmmmm, yum!” she said.
“Is that good?” I asked.
She paused, looked at the green bean in her hand and wrinkled up her little brow, finally she protested-
“Dat not a ‘good,’ dat’s a BEAN!”
I understand why she calls her Grandma Marge “Mawdgie.” I THINK I can understand that she calls her Great-Grandma Laura “Mawdgie,” I just hope she doesn’t call my Mom that the next time she sees her.
What I don’t get is why she calls Grace “Helwen.”
“No, no honey,” we try to explain to her “YOUR name is ‘Ellen,’ her name is ‘Gracie,’ can you say ‘Gracie?’”
“Gwacie,” she’ll say.
“Good, that’s good, now what’s HER name?” we’ll ask and point to Grace.
“Helwen!”
It’s crazy, I’ll say “Ellen, please go get your sister ‘Grace,’ supper’s ready.” and invariably, she’ll start calling “HELWEN! Suppa’s weady!...Where’s Helwen?” I just don’t get it.
The cutest story my cheerleaders love to hear me tell was when I was cleaning the kitchen the night before her birthday party.
“Da-aad, what doing?” asked Ellie.
“I’m cleaning” I answered.
“Why?”
“Uh, because we want the house to look nice,” I said.
“Why?” she pursued further.
“Because we’re going to have people over,” I continued.
“Why?”
“Because it’s your birthday! We’re having a party, you’re going to be TWO!” I said, hoping to see her get excited.
In stead she paused and crunched up her little brow for almost half a minute, finally she waved her hand at me, frowned and protested- “No, YOU’RE TWO!”
Thursday, January 08, 2004
A Caucus Primer
Iowa’s “First in the Nation Caucuses” are just a couple of weeks away, on January 19th. As a public service, here’s my personal guide to the 2 or 3 major parties and their candidates:
Who knows if or when the Reform Party will hold a national convention. They basically broke apart at their 1999 convention in Long Beach, California. It looks like party activist and businessman Ted Weill is the frontrunner for the party's 2004 Presidential nomination. Weill is both the Mississippi Reform Party Chairman and a Reform Party National Committeeman. I know this is prejudiced on my part, but I for one am terrified of fringe party candidates from Mississippi…and Alabama…and South Carolina. See where I’m going with this?
Weill opposes giving money to other countries, hopes to lower the cost of gas and create jobs by pursuing alternative fuels. He thinks prisoners should be used for slave labor, that all prescriptions should be made available for no more than $5 and wants to offer free college internet classes and free adoptions. Exciting.
The Green Party National Convention is the earliest one. It will be in Milwaukee, WI June 23-28, 2004. Beer and cheese. Sounds like a party.
Their most likely candidate, of course is consumer advocate, liberal activist and Harvard-educated attorney, this will be Ralph Nader’s fourth Presidential. But there’s also David Cobb, a lawyer who’s the General Counsel for the Green Party of the United States (GP-US) and helped to found the Green Party of Texas.
What can I tell you? I have a friend who used to be a hard core Republican who decided that true democratic reform, consumer rights and the environment were more important to him than voting for people who actually get elected.
The Democratic National Convention will be July 26-29 in Boston Massatchusetts. Staunch Democratic country. Expect to see lots of Kennedys, with the exception perhaps of California’s First Lady Maria Schriver-Shwarzenagger.
Former Ambassador to New Zealand Carol Moseley Braun is a former Senator from Illinois. Her big issues are funding for public schools and, as you might guess, diversity. She knows she’s not going to get the nomination, but believes her voice is important to the race. I can see her getting a Cabinet job if a Democrat is elected.
Retired General Wesley Clark is the former commander of NATO durring Kosovo. He’s a moderate, the darling of the fiscally conservative Democratic Leadership Conference. But I don’t know what else he stands for, but I like that he’s one of only 2 candidates to say President Bush went to war with Iraq too soon and without any advanced plans for getting us out.
Right now it looks like the frontrunner is New Hampshire Governor Howard Dean. I’ve liked him all along. I keep telling people he reminds me of a Democratic John McCain. Just a little edge, just a dash of indignation. He opposed the war, he opposes monster deficits. He makes the Party leadership nervous enough that moderate swing voters will think he’s his own man. All he has to do is debate Bush and he’s got a chance. He much more relaxed and natural than Gore was. I think he stands a chance.
High school girls like North Carolina Senator John Edwards. Young, handsome, innovative ideas. I can see him as an ideal pick for Dean’s running mate. If Dean wins the nomination, he’s going to need a moderate Southerner to balance the ticket and General Clark may not be Southern enough, plus Clark comes off as too intelectual.Conservatives and swing moderates seem to be afraid of brains, especially articulate ones- wittness our current President.
I actually perferred Missouri Congressman Dick Gephardt over Gore, but I voted for New Jersy Senator Bill Bradley in the 2000 Primary. I even perferred Gephardt over Clinton, but in 1988 I voted for Illinois Senator Paul Simon. He recently passed away after heart surgery. He was Lutheran. What can I say, I like intelligence. Watching Gephardt this time around, I saw too much artificial anger, like he was trying to act like Gore was trying to act in the last election. He used to be about labor, farming, and health care, now he looks like he’s just about running for President one last time.
I like Massatchusetts Senator John Kerry. I’d rather vote for Nebraska Senator Bob Kerry. They’re both veterans, they’re both smart and articulate. There is the married to the Heintz Katsup heiress thing, and the Massatchusetts thing. Republican fodder.
Ohio Congressman Dennis Kucinich? Two words, Michael Dukakis. Only divorced.
Conecticut Senator Joe Lieberman may be upset that former Vice President Gore didn’t give him his endorsement, but that didn’t mean he had to become a Republican. Supporting our troops doesn’t mean you have to have supported the President’s decision to go to war, even Republicans know that. You don’t try appealing to the swing voters in the primaries, you wait until you’ve got the nomination, but Lieberman doesn’t seem to get that.
Who does Reverend Al Sharpton think he is? Lets face it, even Liberal Democrats think this guy makes Jesse Jackson look as religiously legitimate as Billy Graham and as politically conservative as Jerry Fawell. It’s not that he’s radical, its not that he’s black, it’s that he’s a wacko.
The Republican National Convention will be in New York City, August 30-Sept 6. At first, it was going to be a cruise on the Hudson river. I can’t blame Republicans for not wanting to actually be in the city itself. Democrats out number them 5 to 1 there. But Republican Mayor Blooburg talked them into bringing their millions of dollars into Manhattan it’s self. My theory is that it’s one big photo-op. The GOP wants to capitalize on 9/11, but I’m pretty cynical and just a little conspiracy minded. I blame that on Watergate.
What do I think of President Goerge W. Bush? Massive deficits, failed foreign policy, failed education policy, Massive tax cuts to billionares at the expense of our children’s future, failed economic policy, lied to the American people to make us think that Saddam Hussein and Iraq had something to do with Al Queda, Bin Laden or 9/11 so that he could unilaterally and “pre-emptively” invade a tiny country so that his and his Vice President’s friends could make money off the oil, not smart, not articulate.
Other than that, he’s a great guy. Nice, personable, down to earth, faith and family are important. Did I mention that he did not come to office by winning the popular election of the majority of Americans? What more do you want?
I wanted at least one other Republican to challenge him for his party’s nomination. I wanted Arizona Republican John McCain or Bill Bradley, or one of them as President and the other as Vice President. But, you can’t have it all.
Who knows if or when the Reform Party will hold a national convention. They basically broke apart at their 1999 convention in Long Beach, California. It looks like party activist and businessman Ted Weill is the frontrunner for the party's 2004 Presidential nomination. Weill is both the Mississippi Reform Party Chairman and a Reform Party National Committeeman. I know this is prejudiced on my part, but I for one am terrified of fringe party candidates from Mississippi…and Alabama…and South Carolina. See where I’m going with this?
Weill opposes giving money to other countries, hopes to lower the cost of gas and create jobs by pursuing alternative fuels. He thinks prisoners should be used for slave labor, that all prescriptions should be made available for no more than $5 and wants to offer free college internet classes and free adoptions. Exciting.
The Green Party National Convention is the earliest one. It will be in Milwaukee, WI June 23-28, 2004. Beer and cheese. Sounds like a party.
Their most likely candidate, of course is consumer advocate, liberal activist and Harvard-educated attorney, this will be Ralph Nader’s fourth Presidential. But there’s also David Cobb, a lawyer who’s the General Counsel for the Green Party of the United States (GP-US) and helped to found the Green Party of Texas.
What can I tell you? I have a friend who used to be a hard core Republican who decided that true democratic reform, consumer rights and the environment were more important to him than voting for people who actually get elected.
The Democratic National Convention will be July 26-29 in Boston Massatchusetts. Staunch Democratic country. Expect to see lots of Kennedys, with the exception perhaps of California’s First Lady Maria Schriver-Shwarzenagger.
Former Ambassador to New Zealand Carol Moseley Braun is a former Senator from Illinois. Her big issues are funding for public schools and, as you might guess, diversity. She knows she’s not going to get the nomination, but believes her voice is important to the race. I can see her getting a Cabinet job if a Democrat is elected.
Retired General Wesley Clark is the former commander of NATO durring Kosovo. He’s a moderate, the darling of the fiscally conservative Democratic Leadership Conference. But I don’t know what else he stands for, but I like that he’s one of only 2 candidates to say President Bush went to war with Iraq too soon and without any advanced plans for getting us out.
Right now it looks like the frontrunner is New Hampshire Governor Howard Dean. I’ve liked him all along. I keep telling people he reminds me of a Democratic John McCain. Just a little edge, just a dash of indignation. He opposed the war, he opposes monster deficits. He makes the Party leadership nervous enough that moderate swing voters will think he’s his own man. All he has to do is debate Bush and he’s got a chance. He much more relaxed and natural than Gore was. I think he stands a chance.
High school girls like North Carolina Senator John Edwards. Young, handsome, innovative ideas. I can see him as an ideal pick for Dean’s running mate. If Dean wins the nomination, he’s going to need a moderate Southerner to balance the ticket and General Clark may not be Southern enough, plus Clark comes off as too intelectual.Conservatives and swing moderates seem to be afraid of brains, especially articulate ones- wittness our current President.
I actually perferred Missouri Congressman Dick Gephardt over Gore, but I voted for New Jersy Senator Bill Bradley in the 2000 Primary. I even perferred Gephardt over Clinton, but in 1988 I voted for Illinois Senator Paul Simon. He recently passed away after heart surgery. He was Lutheran. What can I say, I like intelligence. Watching Gephardt this time around, I saw too much artificial anger, like he was trying to act like Gore was trying to act in the last election. He used to be about labor, farming, and health care, now he looks like he’s just about running for President one last time.
I like Massatchusetts Senator John Kerry. I’d rather vote for Nebraska Senator Bob Kerry. They’re both veterans, they’re both smart and articulate. There is the married to the Heintz Katsup heiress thing, and the Massatchusetts thing. Republican fodder.
Ohio Congressman Dennis Kucinich? Two words, Michael Dukakis. Only divorced.
Conecticut Senator Joe Lieberman may be upset that former Vice President Gore didn’t give him his endorsement, but that didn’t mean he had to become a Republican. Supporting our troops doesn’t mean you have to have supported the President’s decision to go to war, even Republicans know that. You don’t try appealing to the swing voters in the primaries, you wait until you’ve got the nomination, but Lieberman doesn’t seem to get that.
Who does Reverend Al Sharpton think he is? Lets face it, even Liberal Democrats think this guy makes Jesse Jackson look as religiously legitimate as Billy Graham and as politically conservative as Jerry Fawell. It’s not that he’s radical, its not that he’s black, it’s that he’s a wacko.
The Republican National Convention will be in New York City, August 30-Sept 6. At first, it was going to be a cruise on the Hudson river. I can’t blame Republicans for not wanting to actually be in the city itself. Democrats out number them 5 to 1 there. But Republican Mayor Blooburg talked them into bringing their millions of dollars into Manhattan it’s self. My theory is that it’s one big photo-op. The GOP wants to capitalize on 9/11, but I’m pretty cynical and just a little conspiracy minded. I blame that on Watergate.
What do I think of President Goerge W. Bush? Massive deficits, failed foreign policy, failed education policy, Massive tax cuts to billionares at the expense of our children’s future, failed economic policy, lied to the American people to make us think that Saddam Hussein and Iraq had something to do with Al Queda, Bin Laden or 9/11 so that he could unilaterally and “pre-emptively” invade a tiny country so that his and his Vice President’s friends could make money off the oil, not smart, not articulate.
Other than that, he’s a great guy. Nice, personable, down to earth, faith and family are important. Did I mention that he did not come to office by winning the popular election of the majority of Americans? What more do you want?
I wanted at least one other Republican to challenge him for his party’s nomination. I wanted Arizona Republican John McCain or Bill Bradley, or one of them as President and the other as Vice President. But, you can’t have it all.
Thursday, January 01, 2004
Top 10 Resolutions; Or ‘Blame it on Baghdad’
Did you know that New Years was created by the Babylonians over four thousand years ago? So if you hate making New Year’s resolutions, it’s just one more thing to blame on Baghdad.
I was curious what the most popular New Year’s resolutions in America were. So I ran a Google search on the internet. You’d think that the Gallup Poll people might have a list, wouldn’t you? Nope. USA Today? No. CNN? Time? Well, they had a Year in Photos, but nothing about resolutions. Finally “About.com” had something, but it was from their “Guide to Philadelphia” section, so it’s really not a necessarily representative of all of us.
By the way, you have to be really careful when you make a Google search. I tried typing in “Year-in-review,” whoa Nelly, you would not believe the websites Google turned up when I accidentally typed “Rear-in-review.”
Be that as it may, her is my brief commentary on About.com’s top 10 New Year’s Resolutions
1) Spend More Time with Family & Friends
According to About.com, General Nutrition Centers took a poll that says that 59% of Americans promise to spend more time with family and friends this year. Are most of GNC’s customers spending too much time at work? Or at the Gym maybe? I’d like to spend more time with my family and friends, but for some reason all the High School Athletic Directors and Basketball coaches think that kids have to play two or three games a week December through March. I don’t know why that is. Schools only play one football game a week all fall. Don’t get me wrong, Sports are good for kids, teach life lessons, build character, etc.
2) Fit in Fitness
Everybody knows that exercise is associated with all kinds of health benefits. “Reduces the risk of cancer… increases longevity, helps achieve & maintain weight loss, enhances mood, lowers blood pressure, and even improves arthritis etc. etc. blah blah blah, yadda yadda yadda.” Okay, About.com didn’t use all the “blahs” and “yaddas.” I know all this stuff. We all know all this stuff, but that doesn’t make me like it, or get me out of bed at 4:30 in the morning to do it. Especially when I don’t get home till 11:30 after the basketball game. And it’s going to be 18˚ and icy or muddy at 4:30 between now and June.
3) Tame the Bulge
About.com says that ”Fifty-five percent of adults in America are overweight” Yea!!! That means that 55% of Americans don’t look down their noses at me for being such a fat slob! By the way, have you noticed a trend here? Is it About.com, or GNC? No, I think it’s pretty natural. In fact, I think this is #1 on most of our lists of resolutions. It has been on mine for say the last 25 years of so. I was doing pretty good from June to September, but I pretty much fell off the wagon in October.
4) Quit Smoking
They say this one takes at least two years to achieve. Supposedly, cigarettes are even more addictive than heroine. I smoked a few cigars back in college. I fancied my self a connoisseur. As if a 19 year old can be a connoisseur. Anyway, being a tobacco-snob is like being an imported-beer-snob, it’s too expensive to become too habit forming. The real thing that helped me quit was Bethany. She was my fiancé at the time. She offered to buy me a “Goya de Nicuragua” (my favorite stogie), but she told me that there was no way she’d be kissin’ me for several days. For the rest of you, I’d like to recommend http://www.quitnet.com.
5) Enjoy Life More
Forced to spend more time with your family, having to eat less, get up early to exercise, and no more cigars? What kind of a life does About.com want me to lead? Next they’ll be telling me I can’t drink anymore either.
Seriously though, getting more sleep, being healthier and more fit, losing weight, spending more time with my family and maybe some St. John’s Wort will help.
6) Quit Drinking
Remember, I’ve got that Imported-Beer-Snob thing going. I like Miller Lite and I’ll tolerate Bud Light, but my alcohol is pretty few and far between. Although, my friends on the Atkin’s diet tell me that it’s a carbohydrate/weight loss issue too. That’s an idea that has merit.
7) Get Out of Debt
OW, ow, ow. This might take more than a year. It also might require that I start buying lottery tickets, unfortunately I can’t afford the dollar a week, even with all the money I save on cigarettes and beer. Plus there’s all that St. John’s Wort I’m buying, and the membership at the gym.
8) Learn Something New
Last year I planned on learning how to play the guitar. I even ran out and bought “Guitar for Dummies.” This year I plan on watching the Discovery Channel a lot, that way I can learn useful stuff like how to make a Chevy Suburban into a mobile Las Vegas wedding chapel.
9) Help Others
Was it Ben Franklin who said “God helps those who help themselves?” I don’t know. It may be selfish, but it’s hard to take care # 9 when you can’t even help yourself enough to take care of # 1 through 8.
10) Get Organized
Yeah right. I started reading this book on Adult Attention Deficit Disorder once, but I just didn’t have the patience to finish it.
The only real resolution I made this year was to write shorter columns, but it looks like I’ll have to try again next year.
I was curious what the most popular New Year’s resolutions in America were. So I ran a Google search on the internet. You’d think that the Gallup Poll people might have a list, wouldn’t you? Nope. USA Today? No. CNN? Time? Well, they had a Year in Photos, but nothing about resolutions. Finally “About.com” had something, but it was from their “Guide to Philadelphia” section, so it’s really not a necessarily representative of all of us.
By the way, you have to be really careful when you make a Google search. I tried typing in “Year-in-review,” whoa Nelly, you would not believe the websites Google turned up when I accidentally typed “Rear-in-review.”
Be that as it may, her is my brief commentary on About.com’s top 10 New Year’s Resolutions
1) Spend More Time with Family & Friends
According to About.com, General Nutrition Centers took a poll that says that 59% of Americans promise to spend more time with family and friends this year. Are most of GNC’s customers spending too much time at work? Or at the Gym maybe? I’d like to spend more time with my family and friends, but for some reason all the High School Athletic Directors and Basketball coaches think that kids have to play two or three games a week December through March. I don’t know why that is. Schools only play one football game a week all fall. Don’t get me wrong, Sports are good for kids, teach life lessons, build character, etc.
2) Fit in Fitness
Everybody knows that exercise is associated with all kinds of health benefits. “Reduces the risk of cancer… increases longevity, helps achieve & maintain weight loss, enhances mood, lowers blood pressure, and even improves arthritis etc. etc. blah blah blah, yadda yadda yadda.” Okay, About.com didn’t use all the “blahs” and “yaddas.” I know all this stuff. We all know all this stuff, but that doesn’t make me like it, or get me out of bed at 4:30 in the morning to do it. Especially when I don’t get home till 11:30 after the basketball game. And it’s going to be 18˚ and icy or muddy at 4:30 between now and June.
3) Tame the Bulge
About.com says that ”Fifty-five percent of adults in America are overweight” Yea!!! That means that 55% of Americans don’t look down their noses at me for being such a fat slob! By the way, have you noticed a trend here? Is it About.com, or GNC? No, I think it’s pretty natural. In fact, I think this is #1 on most of our lists of resolutions. It has been on mine for say the last 25 years of so. I was doing pretty good from June to September, but I pretty much fell off the wagon in October.
4) Quit Smoking
They say this one takes at least two years to achieve. Supposedly, cigarettes are even more addictive than heroine. I smoked a few cigars back in college. I fancied my self a connoisseur. As if a 19 year old can be a connoisseur. Anyway, being a tobacco-snob is like being an imported-beer-snob, it’s too expensive to become too habit forming. The real thing that helped me quit was Bethany. She was my fiancé at the time. She offered to buy me a “Goya de Nicuragua” (my favorite stogie), but she told me that there was no way she’d be kissin’ me for several days. For the rest of you, I’d like to recommend http://www.quitnet.com.
5) Enjoy Life More
Forced to spend more time with your family, having to eat less, get up early to exercise, and no more cigars? What kind of a life does About.com want me to lead? Next they’ll be telling me I can’t drink anymore either.
Seriously though, getting more sleep, being healthier and more fit, losing weight, spending more time with my family and maybe some St. John’s Wort will help.
6) Quit Drinking
Remember, I’ve got that Imported-Beer-Snob thing going. I like Miller Lite and I’ll tolerate Bud Light, but my alcohol is pretty few and far between. Although, my friends on the Atkin’s diet tell me that it’s a carbohydrate/weight loss issue too. That’s an idea that has merit.
7) Get Out of Debt
OW, ow, ow. This might take more than a year. It also might require that I start buying lottery tickets, unfortunately I can’t afford the dollar a week, even with all the money I save on cigarettes and beer. Plus there’s all that St. John’s Wort I’m buying, and the membership at the gym.
8) Learn Something New
Last year I planned on learning how to play the guitar. I even ran out and bought “Guitar for Dummies.” This year I plan on watching the Discovery Channel a lot, that way I can learn useful stuff like how to make a Chevy Suburban into a mobile Las Vegas wedding chapel.
9) Help Others
Was it Ben Franklin who said “God helps those who help themselves?” I don’t know. It may be selfish, but it’s hard to take care # 9 when you can’t even help yourself enough to take care of # 1 through 8.
10) Get Organized
Yeah right. I started reading this book on Adult Attention Deficit Disorder once, but I just didn’t have the patience to finish it.
The only real resolution I made this year was to write shorter columns, but it looks like I’ll have to try again next year.
Thursday, December 25, 2003
Exclusive Christmas Interview!
SN: So Ted, how have you been? Would you like another interview this year?
TM: Nick, you know I’m always up for excusive interviews with world famous celebrities like yourself
SN: Alright then, lets get started, this is my busy season, as you know.
TM: Well, how about a current events question? What do you think about the capture of Saddam Hussein?
SN: You know, I try to stay out of politics. I’m sort of a one-man Switzerland if you know what I mean. That’s one of the reasons for locating my headquarters where I do, it’s very out-of-the-way. Suffices to say He’d been on my ‘naughty’ list for a lot of years and I think it finally caught up with him.
TM: Fair enough. How about a little background? So the North Pole’s not really home? Where are you from originally?
SN: Lycia, Myra
TM: Come again?
SN: Asia Minor, not far from the modern city of Demre, on Mediterranean coast in southwest Turkey
TM: Oh, well, surely you have some opinions on Turkey’s role in Iraqi reconstruction?
SN: The Turks have no love for Saddam, but my homeland was over run by the Turks in 808. The Caliph Harun ar-Rashid was another dictator who persecuted people he considered different. So you’ll forgive me if I don’t think it’s my war.
TM: Ouch. Sorry, I didn’t mean to touch a nerve. So is it true what they say? ‘You CAN’T go home again.’
TM: Oh, well, surely you have some opinions on Turkey’s role in Iraqi reconstruction?
SN: Oh, well, in my case, you can’t even go back to Constantinople.
TM: Why’s that?
SN: Well, now they call it Istanbul.
TM: I’m getting that religious persecution is a sore point for you. Is that because people call it ‘X-Mas’ instead of Christmas?
SN: No, that’s because of Cæsar Diocletian made me a martyr in 325, the same year Constantine came to power and legalized Christianity, but a day late and a dollar short for me. Really it was General Galerius who hated Christianity and Diocletian went along with it, he was playing politics, trying to balance the interests Galerius, Maximillian, and Constantine and hold on to power. The Empire had gotten way too big and too corrupt. So you see why I hate politics. It gets in the way of helping people and it gets in the way of spreading the Gospel.
TM: S-S-S-So you’re dead?
SN: No Einstein, I’m seven hundred and three years old. I’m a spirit, of course I’m dead.
TM: Oh, sorry, gosh, you don’t look a day over 500.
SN: Thanks, I gave up smoking in the 1980’s. This is kind of dragging, can you spice it up a little?
TM: Uh, Okay, uh, don’t like politics. How about religion?
SN: Now you’re talkin’. That’s right up my alley. Did you know Lycia was St. Paul’s last stop on his way to Rome?
TM: THE Saint Paul? You got to meet St. Paul?
SN: Well, yeah, but not till 325. His missionary journeys were like 250 years before I was born.
TM: Oh, sure, I get confused.
SN: That’s alright, you’re only mortal, I should cut you some slack. At any rate, as a young man, I wanted the solitary life. I made a pilgrimage to Jerusalem, where I found a place to withdraw to devote himself to prayer. But God told me that I should return home and spread His Good News. Eventually I was ordained bishop.
TM: Bishop, eh? How do you feel about the Episcopal Diocese of New Hampshire ordaining Gene Robinson their Bishop?
SN: You don’t let up do you? I thought you were different than other journalist. Is controversy all you’re interested in? I’m known for providing for the poor and needy, and delivering those who had been unjustly accused.
TM: Come on, didn’t you ever face controversy during your lifetime?
SN: Well, some people tell me I wasn’t martyred but I passed away in 334, and my body was stolen and taken to Bari, Italy in 1087. Some people claim that I performed a lot of miracles posthumously, is that controversial enough?
TM: Come on, Nick, readers want something juicy. Were you ever in a fight?
SN: I’m actually most famous for having secretly given money so that three sisters could pay dowries and marry, avoiding being sold into prostitution by their father. That’s where the whole stocking thing started, see I couldn’t just break into someone’s house, what would people think?
TM: No no no, everybody knows that stuff. These days we want our heroes to be macho, aggressive.
SN: There was that time at the First Ecumenical Council of Nicaea in 325. That infernal Lybian Arius. He claimed that Jesus wasn’t truly the Son of God. I just couldn’t help my self. He made me so angry, I walloped him one. Why, the other clergy there were so taken aback. Priests aren’t allowed to hit people you know. But they knew I was right.
TM: Wow, you go Santa! Now, be honest, is there anything now days that makes you that angry?
SN: Well, I tell ya, I don’t much care for people trying to make me out to be some kind of Nordic magician or Norse god or something. And it did break my heart when World Trade Center business destroyed tiny St. Nicholas Greek Orthodox Church, about 500 feet from ground zero.
TM: What is the ONE thing that you want readers to remember today, Christmas 2003?
SN: That’s an easy one- “For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord!” And “to all a good night!”
TM: Nick, you know I’m always up for excusive interviews with world famous celebrities like yourself
SN: Alright then, lets get started, this is my busy season, as you know.
TM: Well, how about a current events question? What do you think about the capture of Saddam Hussein?
SN: You know, I try to stay out of politics. I’m sort of a one-man Switzerland if you know what I mean. That’s one of the reasons for locating my headquarters where I do, it’s very out-of-the-way. Suffices to say He’d been on my ‘naughty’ list for a lot of years and I think it finally caught up with him.
TM: Fair enough. How about a little background? So the North Pole’s not really home? Where are you from originally?
SN: Lycia, Myra
TM: Come again?
SN: Asia Minor, not far from the modern city of Demre, on Mediterranean coast in southwest Turkey
TM: Oh, well, surely you have some opinions on Turkey’s role in Iraqi reconstruction?
SN: The Turks have no love for Saddam, but my homeland was over run by the Turks in 808. The Caliph Harun ar-Rashid was another dictator who persecuted people he considered different. So you’ll forgive me if I don’t think it’s my war.
TM: Ouch. Sorry, I didn’t mean to touch a nerve. So is it true what they say? ‘You CAN’T go home again.’
TM: Oh, well, surely you have some opinions on Turkey’s role in Iraqi reconstruction?
SN: Oh, well, in my case, you can’t even go back to Constantinople.
TM: Why’s that?
SN: Well, now they call it Istanbul.
TM: I’m getting that religious persecution is a sore point for you. Is that because people call it ‘X-Mas’ instead of Christmas?
SN: No, that’s because of Cæsar Diocletian made me a martyr in 325, the same year Constantine came to power and legalized Christianity, but a day late and a dollar short for me. Really it was General Galerius who hated Christianity and Diocletian went along with it, he was playing politics, trying to balance the interests Galerius, Maximillian, and Constantine and hold on to power. The Empire had gotten way too big and too corrupt. So you see why I hate politics. It gets in the way of helping people and it gets in the way of spreading the Gospel.
TM: S-S-S-So you’re dead?
SN: No Einstein, I’m seven hundred and three years old. I’m a spirit, of course I’m dead.
TM: Oh, sorry, gosh, you don’t look a day over 500.
SN: Thanks, I gave up smoking in the 1980’s. This is kind of dragging, can you spice it up a little?
TM: Uh, Okay, uh, don’t like politics. How about religion?
SN: Now you’re talkin’. That’s right up my alley. Did you know Lycia was St. Paul’s last stop on his way to Rome?
TM: THE Saint Paul? You got to meet St. Paul?
SN: Well, yeah, but not till 325. His missionary journeys were like 250 years before I was born.
TM: Oh, sure, I get confused.
SN: That’s alright, you’re only mortal, I should cut you some slack. At any rate, as a young man, I wanted the solitary life. I made a pilgrimage to Jerusalem, where I found a place to withdraw to devote himself to prayer. But God told me that I should return home and spread His Good News. Eventually I was ordained bishop.
TM: Bishop, eh? How do you feel about the Episcopal Diocese of New Hampshire ordaining Gene Robinson their Bishop?
SN: You don’t let up do you? I thought you were different than other journalist. Is controversy all you’re interested in? I’m known for providing for the poor and needy, and delivering those who had been unjustly accused.
TM: Come on, didn’t you ever face controversy during your lifetime?
SN: Well, some people tell me I wasn’t martyred but I passed away in 334, and my body was stolen and taken to Bari, Italy in 1087. Some people claim that I performed a lot of miracles posthumously, is that controversial enough?
TM: Come on, Nick, readers want something juicy. Were you ever in a fight?
SN: I’m actually most famous for having secretly given money so that three sisters could pay dowries and marry, avoiding being sold into prostitution by their father. That’s where the whole stocking thing started, see I couldn’t just break into someone’s house, what would people think?
TM: No no no, everybody knows that stuff. These days we want our heroes to be macho, aggressive.
SN: There was that time at the First Ecumenical Council of Nicaea in 325. That infernal Lybian Arius. He claimed that Jesus wasn’t truly the Son of God. I just couldn’t help my self. He made me so angry, I walloped him one. Why, the other clergy there were so taken aback. Priests aren’t allowed to hit people you know. But they knew I was right.
TM: Wow, you go Santa! Now, be honest, is there anything now days that makes you that angry?
SN: Well, I tell ya, I don’t much care for people trying to make me out to be some kind of Nordic magician or Norse god or something. And it did break my heart when World Trade Center business destroyed tiny St. Nicholas Greek Orthodox Church, about 500 feet from ground zero.
TM: What is the ONE thing that you want readers to remember today, Christmas 2003?
SN: That’s an easy one- “For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord!” And “to all a good night!”
Thursday, December 18, 2003
White Christmas
Growing up in Phoenix I’d sometimes get defensive around Michigan relatives who wondered how we could stand Christmas without snow. I’d trace my finger on a map or glob from Phoenix to Bethlehem just to point out that it’s not about the snow.
Needless to say, since my very first December in Nebraska, I’ve been converted. Mind you, I hate shoveling it as much as the next guy. This year I haven’t caught pneumonia or thrown out my back yet, but I have sprained my wrist. And one of the few things I miss about living in LA is sitting by the pool under the palms and bouganvillas this time of year, but now I too am one of those people who just don’t think it’s Christmas, unless the Christmas is white.
Bing Crosby first sang "White Christmas" on his NBC radio show on Christmas Day in 1941, just over two weeks after Pearl Harbor. Little did he know that the song Irving Berlin wrote for a 1942 movie "Holiday Inn" would win an Academy Award for best song. Nor did he have any idea that it become the biggest-selling single of all time.
Did he have any idea that it would become a song about yearning for peace and for "the ones we used to know?" "White Christmas" often brought tears to the eyes of many weary soldiers.
You can plan on me
Please have snow and mistletoe
And presents on the tree
Christmas Eve will find me
Where the lovelight gleams
I'll be home for Christmas
If only in my dreams
Most years, hearing Crosby croon simply made me think about snow, or about the 1954 movie Crosby made with Danny Kay and Rosemary Clooney.
But this year I can’t help thinking about much more. For one thing, too many of the veterans who helped save the world from the NAZIs and fascism are no longer with us. Or, sick or suffering. For another, too many people my age are separated from their families this Christmas, soldiers in another war.
This time our government tried to lead us to believe that Iraq was to blame for terrorist acts committed by Al Queda, (which was centered in Afghanistan, not Iraq) and this time our government struck first without provocation.
I have a former student, Jamie, getting married this spring. Her brother Matt (another former student) is in Iraq, his unit has been fired upon and lost members in Black Hawk helicopters. Jamie worries so much she often cries herself to sleep.
I have a cheerleader who’ dad I’ve never met. He didn’t come to parent-teacher conferences. That’s because he’s over there too. Actually, he’s not allowed to tell his family where he is exactly. This 7th grade girl hasn’t seen her dad in almost two years. I can’t imagine not seeing my kids for that long.
I know that today’s service men and women are definitely not enjoying the sun, sand and palm trees in Kabal, Baghdad and Tekrit.
If Bob Hope were to take Bing Crosby and his USO show over there for Thanksgiving, I know they’d have gotten a lot of tears if they’d sing Crosby’s 1943 hit, “I'll be home for Christmas.”
Please keep our service men and women and their families in your prayers this season. May your days be merry and bright. And may all your Christmases be white.
Needless to say, since my very first December in Nebraska, I’ve been converted. Mind you, I hate shoveling it as much as the next guy. This year I haven’t caught pneumonia or thrown out my back yet, but I have sprained my wrist. And one of the few things I miss about living in LA is sitting by the pool under the palms and bouganvillas this time of year, but now I too am one of those people who just don’t think it’s Christmas, unless the Christmas is white.
Bing Crosby first sang "White Christmas" on his NBC radio show on Christmas Day in 1941, just over two weeks after Pearl Harbor. Little did he know that the song Irving Berlin wrote for a 1942 movie "Holiday Inn" would win an Academy Award for best song. Nor did he have any idea that it become the biggest-selling single of all time.
Did he have any idea that it would become a song about yearning for peace and for "the ones we used to know?" "White Christmas" often brought tears to the eyes of many weary soldiers.
You can plan on me
Please have snow and mistletoe
And presents on the tree
Christmas Eve will find me
Where the lovelight gleams
I'll be home for Christmas
If only in my dreams
Most years, hearing Crosby croon simply made me think about snow, or about the 1954 movie Crosby made with Danny Kay and Rosemary Clooney.
But this year I can’t help thinking about much more. For one thing, too many of the veterans who helped save the world from the NAZIs and fascism are no longer with us. Or, sick or suffering. For another, too many people my age are separated from their families this Christmas, soldiers in another war.
This time our government tried to lead us to believe that Iraq was to blame for terrorist acts committed by Al Queda, (which was centered in Afghanistan, not Iraq) and this time our government struck first without provocation.
I have a former student, Jamie, getting married this spring. Her brother Matt (another former student) is in Iraq, his unit has been fired upon and lost members in Black Hawk helicopters. Jamie worries so much she often cries herself to sleep.
I have a cheerleader who’ dad I’ve never met. He didn’t come to parent-teacher conferences. That’s because he’s over there too. Actually, he’s not allowed to tell his family where he is exactly. This 7th grade girl hasn’t seen her dad in almost two years. I can’t imagine not seeing my kids for that long.
I know that today’s service men and women are definitely not enjoying the sun, sand and palm trees in Kabal, Baghdad and Tekrit.
If Bob Hope were to take Bing Crosby and his USO show over there for Thanksgiving, I know they’d have gotten a lot of tears if they’d sing Crosby’s 1943 hit, “I'll be home for Christmas.”
Please keep our service men and women and their families in your prayers this season. May your days be merry and bright. And may all your Christmases be white.
Thursday, December 11, 2003
Thank you President George
I’ve always been the kind of person who says “I never win anything.” Picked last, last place in the race, struck out in baseball, struck out with girls. Charlie Brown. I’d call into radio stations for contests but the line would be busy, or maybe I’d get through but the ninth caller would win and I was the tenth caller, or the producer would put me on hold and then I’d get hung up on before it was time for the DJ to talk to me.
But I’ve discovered the secret to luck. Dumb luck. Call it what you will, but inevitably, you never get what you really want until you stop wanting it. The Hindus call it Nirvanah. Buddah said that the only way to reach true inner peace was the absence of all desire. Jesus said that whoever would save his life must lose it.
I didn’t meet the love of my life until I gave up “looking for love in all the right places. Anyway, here’s the story about my recent streak of good luck.
The Wednesday before Thanksgiving I was packing lunches and listening to the news on National Public Radio (KWIT 90.3fm) when Bethany called down to me from brushing her teeth.
“Which President made Thanksgiving a Holiday?” she asked?
“Lincoln made it a CONTINUOUS, annual holiday, FDR made it the third Thursday, why?” I volleyed back, trying not to sound TOO much like Cliff Claven from ‘Cheers.’
“In 1789?” She asked.
“Only one guy was president in 1789,” I said.
“Call ‘the Bridge’ right now, they’re having a contest.” And she gave me the phone number.(‘the Bridge is a Christian station in Omaha, KGBI 100.7 fm.) I was in no hurry or panic since I not only knew the answer, but didn’t believe I had a snowballs chance in Havana of getting through anyway.
“Good morning, this is the Bridge, who was the President to first make Thanksgiving an official holiday in 1789?” asked the voice.
“Well, since the Constitution was just drafted in 1787, I’m going to say President George Washington.” I answered, trying to sound unsure of myself- which wasn’t hard since I was so shocked that I was actually speaking to a radio personality.
“That’s exactly right! What are you doing this morning?” asked the DJ.
“Uh, getting ready to go to school?” I said without thinking.
“Where do you go to school?” wow, I must sound young.
“Um, I teach at Boyer Valley in Dunlap.” I replied.
“Uh, oh, You don’t teach History do you?” shoot, I wondered if they were going to disqualify me or something.
“Uh, no, Art and Yearbook.” I muttered, as if I need to be ashamed that I teach Art, rather than History. I feel the same way when I tell people that I coach cheerleading rather than basketball. Of course, I didn’t go into it with the DJ that I did major in History and had taught it for the better part of a decade.
I was amazed at how quickly the prize came in the mail. Just a day or two, but I still didn’t think of myself as “a winner.” The prize was a CD and a DVD. Both of my favorite Christian musician, Steven Curtis Chapman. I had already gotten the CD for Bethany for Valentines Day (Arizona Statehood Day) and we didn’t have a DVD player, we still used the same VHS recorder we got as a wedding present. So I still felt like a loser. I was Charlie Brown on Halloween night when all the other kids are getting candy bars and money and popcorn balls, I got a rock.
So last week, at Santa Claus night in Charter Oak, I didn’t expect to win anything. I thought it would be great to win a turkey. Actually, I’m such a pessimist, I totally expected to win doughnuts and be embarrassed about how fat I am. Either that or I’d win a subscription to the NEWSpaper, which I already have.
Needless to say, I did a double take and didn’t believe my ears when my name was drawn for the DVD player. Part of me wanted to hide. I didn’t deserve this. Part of me wanted to jump up and down and squeal like a contestant on ‘the Price is Right.’ Wow, I’m not a total loser, I’m not, I’m not.
But you know what, it was a million times more exciting, more fulfilling, more thrilling, and more important to hear Gracie’s name drawn for the bike. It’s pretty big for her yet and she has a tough time with coordination, but wow. Just wow. That was really cool. I get to be related to her. She’s in my family. I’m pretty lucky.
But I’ve discovered the secret to luck. Dumb luck. Call it what you will, but inevitably, you never get what you really want until you stop wanting it. The Hindus call it Nirvanah. Buddah said that the only way to reach true inner peace was the absence of all desire. Jesus said that whoever would save his life must lose it.
I didn’t meet the love of my life until I gave up “looking for love in all the right places. Anyway, here’s the story about my recent streak of good luck.
The Wednesday before Thanksgiving I was packing lunches and listening to the news on National Public Radio (KWIT 90.3fm) when Bethany called down to me from brushing her teeth.
“Which President made Thanksgiving a Holiday?” she asked?
“Lincoln made it a CONTINUOUS, annual holiday, FDR made it the third Thursday, why?” I volleyed back, trying not to sound TOO much like Cliff Claven from ‘Cheers.’
“In 1789?” She asked.
“Only one guy was president in 1789,” I said.
“Call ‘the Bridge’ right now, they’re having a contest.” And she gave me the phone number.(‘the Bridge is a Christian station in Omaha, KGBI 100.7 fm.) I was in no hurry or panic since I not only knew the answer, but didn’t believe I had a snowballs chance in Havana of getting through anyway.
“Good morning, this is the Bridge, who was the President to first make Thanksgiving an official holiday in 1789?” asked the voice.
“Well, since the Constitution was just drafted in 1787, I’m going to say President George Washington.” I answered, trying to sound unsure of myself- which wasn’t hard since I was so shocked that I was actually speaking to a radio personality.
“That’s exactly right! What are you doing this morning?” asked the DJ.
“Uh, getting ready to go to school?” I said without thinking.
“Where do you go to school?” wow, I must sound young.
“Um, I teach at Boyer Valley in Dunlap.” I replied.
“Uh, oh, You don’t teach History do you?” shoot, I wondered if they were going to disqualify me or something.
“Uh, no, Art and Yearbook.” I muttered, as if I need to be ashamed that I teach Art, rather than History. I feel the same way when I tell people that I coach cheerleading rather than basketball. Of course, I didn’t go into it with the DJ that I did major in History and had taught it for the better part of a decade.
I was amazed at how quickly the prize came in the mail. Just a day or two, but I still didn’t think of myself as “a winner.” The prize was a CD and a DVD. Both of my favorite Christian musician, Steven Curtis Chapman. I had already gotten the CD for Bethany for Valentines Day (Arizona Statehood Day) and we didn’t have a DVD player, we still used the same VHS recorder we got as a wedding present. So I still felt like a loser. I was Charlie Brown on Halloween night when all the other kids are getting candy bars and money and popcorn balls, I got a rock.
So last week, at Santa Claus night in Charter Oak, I didn’t expect to win anything. I thought it would be great to win a turkey. Actually, I’m such a pessimist, I totally expected to win doughnuts and be embarrassed about how fat I am. Either that or I’d win a subscription to the NEWSpaper, which I already have.
Needless to say, I did a double take and didn’t believe my ears when my name was drawn for the DVD player. Part of me wanted to hide. I didn’t deserve this. Part of me wanted to jump up and down and squeal like a contestant on ‘the Price is Right.’ Wow, I’m not a total loser, I’m not, I’m not.
But you know what, it was a million times more exciting, more fulfilling, more thrilling, and more important to hear Gracie’s name drawn for the bike. It’s pretty big for her yet and she has a tough time with coordination, but wow. Just wow. That was really cool. I get to be related to her. She’s in my family. I’m pretty lucky.
Thursday, December 04, 2003
A Rose by any Other Name; would smell like tuna and liver
“Mr. Mallory would you like a cat?” sang the cheerleader.
I tried to figure out an excuse or a way to stall.
“Um, let me ask my wife,” I told the cheerleader. Hoping the answer would be no.
There was that cat in California, ‘Bob’ had been his name. He was a sleep-robber. Either he slept on your face or he opened and shut the cabinet doors on the vanity in the bedroom all night long.
Then there were the ‘Three Stooges.’ My mother-in-law Marge found at the bank. They were mutants. They all had six or seven fingers on each paw. Marge and Allan thought our girls might like them, so last winter we let them live in our back porch. Three kittens can really make a place stink! They also clawed deep gouges into our kitchen door. By spring I was more then ready to introduce them to the farm.
I suppose I should feel guilty. Only one of the three survived another year. I have no idea whether he’s ‘Larry, Moe, or Curly.’ He was renamed ‘Spot’ after my nephews thought he’d look better in John Deere green.
Bethany thought a cat was a good idea, so negotiations began.
“There’s five, would you like a fluffy long haired one or a short haired one?” asked the cheerleader.
“Short,” I HATE having animal hair all over the place.
“Okay, you’ll get ‘Spot.’ We call him that because he’s all white except for one spot. At least I think he’s a he. They’re still pretty small” she said.
Her mother brought a kitten to school one Friday in a Dr. Pepper box. “We hated to break up the family,” she told me. “The other four all went to the same home.”
Holy Kitty Litter! I thought to myself.
This wasn’t ‘Spot.’ Too fluffy. Not all white. This kitten was generic. The quintessential kitten; medium length hair, orange-ish areas, whitish areas. Not my personal aesthetic. I like a more low key design in my cats. Tabby, gray, brown, black. Cest’ la vie, it was free.
But if this wasn’t ‘Spot,’ we would have to name it.
There’s that practice of naming something after the person who gave it to you. Bethany’s first car was named ‘Lola.’ The cat’s name would be ‘Randi,’ after the cheerleader. If it turns out to be a boy, then it would be ‘Randy.’ No problem.
I don’t know. What would people think if I name a pet after a student? Is that inappropriate? More importantly, shouldn’t my daughters get to name it? Uh oh, I worried, I bet Grace (our 4 year old) will want to call it ‘Nemo,’ after the two fish that we killed.
“Sweetheart, have you thought about what you’d like to name you new kitty?” I asked my daughter one afternoon out on the farm.
“Hmm, not yet. Me still thinking,” was her first reply.
“I think ‘Ginger’ is a good name for a cat” offered Great-Grandma Laura Langholdt.
“But Gram, it’s a boy,” I protested, “Ginger is such a girl’s name!” (By now the cat’s gender had been determined).
“I like ‘Cinnamon,’” suggested Marge.
I sighed. I did not want any pet of mine named after potpourri. What would they suggest next, ‘Nutmeg?’
“Hey Grace, how about just calling him ‘Cat?’” I said.
“NO, You TEASING me. You SILLY!” she replied.
My sister-in-law Sheri liked the idea of ‘Bob’ in honor of the COU Bobcats. Ellen (our 2 year old) started dancing around the kitchen saying “Bob…Bob.” It would have been easy for her to say. She likes Bob the Builder, SpongeBob Squarepants, and Bob the tomato from Veggietales. Alas, Sheri didn’t know about California Bob, who died tragically of kitty cancer.
“Grace, have you decided on a name yet?”
“Mmmm,’ Larry Boy?’” after Bob the tomato’s partner, Larry the cucumber.
“Oh, gee, honey, um, I don’t know…” at least it wasn’t ‘Nemo,’ or ‘Spiderman.’
“If ‘Ginger’ is too sissy for you, why not something more manly like ‘Butch’, or ‘Prince,’ or ‘King’?” said Bethany sarcastically.
“Geez, Beth, it’s a cat, those are all dog names” I countered, “Wait a minute, ‘King?’ how about ‘Mufasa’ from the Lion King.” Grace’s cousin Login in Sioux Falls has a can named ‘Simba.’
“Grace, how about Mufasa?” I offered, almost as a last resort.
“Mmmm. No. No Moofawsha. Mmmm, ‘Ting!’” she announced gleefully.
“Ting?” I asked. I have another cheerleader from Taiwan who’s name is ‘Ting Hu.’ Kids at school say “Ting Who? Ting HU!”
“No, not ‘Ting’, ‘TING!” Grace said, frustrated that we still can’t understand her all of the time.
“Oh, ‘King!’” I translated.
“Yes, ‘Ting.” She said.
Ellen immediately started dancing around singing “King, King, King.”
It’s amazing how much less one cat makes a place stink then three.
If you remember back a few columns, Grace does understand that girls can be Queen but not King but Queens are important and powerful and she’s Okay with it.
Poor King gets drug around by Ellen an awful lot, but Grace treats him like royalty. If by that you mean he gets treated like a Pretty Princess Barbie®.
I tried to figure out an excuse or a way to stall.
“Um, let me ask my wife,” I told the cheerleader. Hoping the answer would be no.
There was that cat in California, ‘Bob’ had been his name. He was a sleep-robber. Either he slept on your face or he opened and shut the cabinet doors on the vanity in the bedroom all night long.
Then there were the ‘Three Stooges.’ My mother-in-law Marge found at the bank. They were mutants. They all had six or seven fingers on each paw. Marge and Allan thought our girls might like them, so last winter we let them live in our back porch. Three kittens can really make a place stink! They also clawed deep gouges into our kitchen door. By spring I was more then ready to introduce them to the farm.
I suppose I should feel guilty. Only one of the three survived another year. I have no idea whether he’s ‘Larry, Moe, or Curly.’ He was renamed ‘Spot’ after my nephews thought he’d look better in John Deere green.
Bethany thought a cat was a good idea, so negotiations began.
“There’s five, would you like a fluffy long haired one or a short haired one?” asked the cheerleader.
“Short,” I HATE having animal hair all over the place.
“Okay, you’ll get ‘Spot.’ We call him that because he’s all white except for one spot. At least I think he’s a he. They’re still pretty small” she said.
Her mother brought a kitten to school one Friday in a Dr. Pepper box. “We hated to break up the family,” she told me. “The other four all went to the same home.”
Holy Kitty Litter! I thought to myself.
This wasn’t ‘Spot.’ Too fluffy. Not all white. This kitten was generic. The quintessential kitten; medium length hair, orange-ish areas, whitish areas. Not my personal aesthetic. I like a more low key design in my cats. Tabby, gray, brown, black. Cest’ la vie, it was free.
But if this wasn’t ‘Spot,’ we would have to name it.
There’s that practice of naming something after the person who gave it to you. Bethany’s first car was named ‘Lola.’ The cat’s name would be ‘Randi,’ after the cheerleader. If it turns out to be a boy, then it would be ‘Randy.’ No problem.
I don’t know. What would people think if I name a pet after a student? Is that inappropriate? More importantly, shouldn’t my daughters get to name it? Uh oh, I worried, I bet Grace (our 4 year old) will want to call it ‘Nemo,’ after the two fish that we killed.
“Sweetheart, have you thought about what you’d like to name you new kitty?” I asked my daughter one afternoon out on the farm.
“Hmm, not yet. Me still thinking,” was her first reply.
“I think ‘Ginger’ is a good name for a cat” offered Great-Grandma Laura Langholdt.
“But Gram, it’s a boy,” I protested, “Ginger is such a girl’s name!” (By now the cat’s gender had been determined).
“I like ‘Cinnamon,’” suggested Marge.
I sighed. I did not want any pet of mine named after potpourri. What would they suggest next, ‘Nutmeg?’
“Hey Grace, how about just calling him ‘Cat?’” I said.
“NO, You TEASING me. You SILLY!” she replied.
My sister-in-law Sheri liked the idea of ‘Bob’ in honor of the COU Bobcats. Ellen (our 2 year old) started dancing around the kitchen saying “Bob…Bob.” It would have been easy for her to say. She likes Bob the Builder, SpongeBob Squarepants, and Bob the tomato from Veggietales. Alas, Sheri didn’t know about California Bob, who died tragically of kitty cancer.
“Grace, have you decided on a name yet?”
“Mmmm,’ Larry Boy?’” after Bob the tomato’s partner, Larry the cucumber.
“Oh, gee, honey, um, I don’t know…” at least it wasn’t ‘Nemo,’ or ‘Spiderman.’
“If ‘Ginger’ is too sissy for you, why not something more manly like ‘Butch’, or ‘Prince,’ or ‘King’?” said Bethany sarcastically.
“Geez, Beth, it’s a cat, those are all dog names” I countered, “Wait a minute, ‘King?’ how about ‘Mufasa’ from the Lion King.” Grace’s cousin Login in Sioux Falls has a can named ‘Simba.’
“Grace, how about Mufasa?” I offered, almost as a last resort.
“Mmmm. No. No Moofawsha. Mmmm, ‘Ting!’” she announced gleefully.
“Ting?” I asked. I have another cheerleader from Taiwan who’s name is ‘Ting Hu.’ Kids at school say “Ting Who? Ting HU!”
“No, not ‘Ting’, ‘TING!” Grace said, frustrated that we still can’t understand her all of the time.
“Oh, ‘King!’” I translated.
“Yes, ‘Ting.” She said.
Ellen immediately started dancing around singing “King, King, King.”
It’s amazing how much less one cat makes a place stink then three.
If you remember back a few columns, Grace does understand that girls can be Queen but not King but Queens are important and powerful and she’s Okay with it.
Poor King gets drug around by Ellen an awful lot, but Grace treats him like royalty. If by that you mean he gets treated like a Pretty Princess Barbie®.
Thursday, November 27, 2003
Enjoy your pumpkin soup!
Happy Thanksgiving. I’d be amazed if you’re actually reading this on Thanksgiving. Some folks get there NEWspaper on Wednesday, some don’t get around to reading it till the weekend. I’m sure you’re busy. If you you’re reading this a week later, I understand. No offense taken.
So what’d ya have? White meat? Dark? Did ya go the John Madden NFL route and have a “Turducken?” Mashed potatoes? Dressing? Green bean casserole? Let me guess, cranberry something and some sort of pie? Why is it that millions of us Americans eat pretty much the same thing on Thanksgiving?
One of my fondest Thanksgiving memories was when Beth’s folks were out and instead of taking I-5 up to our cousins’ in Northern California, we decided to meander up Highway 1 along the coast. It took way longer than we thought it would, so we spent Thanksgiving night near of Hearst’s Castle. The pizza and beer was Okay, but at lunch we had stopped in Morrow Bay and had the best clam chowder on earth in a practically empty restaurant with huge windows overlooking the Pacific.
Some people’s first reaction would be pity. Thanksgiving without turkey? Sacrilege!
The truth of the matter is that the Pilgrims didn’t even have forks. Sorry, no forks, but they did have spoons, knives, and their fingers. They wiped their hands on the same napkins that they used as pot holders and tongs.
Miles Standish and Pricilla Mullins also had to some how get by without desert. They had brought sugar with them on the Mayflower but by the time of the feast, they were probably out. Oh yeah, no ovens either. That meant no pies, cakes, cookies, brown-and-serve rolls or even bread.
According to the historychannel.com Much of the first Thanksgiving was seafood; cod, eel, clams, and lobster. That makes sense, Plymouth, Massachusetts is pretty much a seafood bonanza. Notice, Allan (my father-in-law), no oysters. Maybe they waited for Christmas Eve, like you. Personally, I hate oysters, but Bethany hates lobsters, you can’t please everybody.
I understand that the Pilgrims might have had a turkey or two (wild though, not a big fat domestic tom). They and their Wampanoag Indian hosts also probably had plenty of other fowl like goose, duck, crane, swan, partridge, and yes, eagles (is nothing sacred?!). Talk about a lot of “tryptophan.” That’s that enzyme in bird meat that makes you sleepy. I bet nobody was left awake to do the dishes in then either. I for one really enjoy pheasant, you just have to be careful to pick the bird-shot out of the wound.
I tell ya what, anybody on the Atkin’s diet would have loved the first Thanksgiving. Cholesterol was the least of their worries. They were much more worried about small pox and the plague.
The menu continued with Venison, Seal (I hope no PETA members just read that). They had a little bit of stone ground wheat flour, and of course… “Indian corn.”
There was some other vegetables to, like roasted pumpkin, not as a pie, more likely soup. That one was one of George Washington’s favorites. I guess that there are only so many things you can eat with wooden teeth. Of course, Washington was a century later, don’t get your history confused.
The Pilgrims probably topped off their feast with peas, beans, onions, lettuce, radishes, carrots, plums, grapes, walnuts, chestnuts, acorns. No Stove Top stuffing, no French's® French Fried Onions or Campbell's® Cream of Mushroom to make that green bean casserole, and no Cool Whip®. Worst of all, the Pilgrims had no cranberry gelatin goop that makes that “shloop” sound when it slides out of the can.
No Lions’ game, no Cowboy’s game, but it was only a couple of decades before they had some wicked witch-hunts.
This first feast in 1621 wasn't repeated, so it couldn’t have been the start of our tradition. In fact, the radically conservative Puritan Pilgrims didn't call it “Thanksgiving.”
To them, a “thanksgiving” was a religious day, so they went to church and thanked God for a specific event, like winning a battle. On such a day, no recreational activities were allowed, like playing games or singing. You can bet that there would be no way that pagan savages like the Wampanoag’s would be invited. The Pilgrims were actually pretty intolerant for having come here for “religious freedom.”
Our Thanksgiving in America really got started with George Washington who declared a one-time holiday. Abe Lincoln proclaimed the last Thursday in November as"...a day of Thanksgiving and Praise to our beneficent Father who dwelleth in the Heavens." F.D.R. moved it to the fourth Thursday in 1939, to keep a fifth week in November from cutting into the Christmas shopping season.
Tomorrow (the Friday after Thanksgiving), is now the busiest shopping day of the year. Save your sanity, join thousands of penny pinchers by observing it as the “National Buy-Nothing Day.” Believe me, if you even try to go to a mall tomorrow, you’ll wish you hadn’t.
Turns out that the Macy's Parade, was started in the 1920's by first-generation immigrant employees of the department store who wanted to celebrate with the kind of festival they loved in Europe. They put on costumes, borrowed 25 animals from the Central Park Zoo and marched 111 city blocks, drawing a crowd of a quarter million, which pretty much guaranteed an instant tradition.
You should have seen the parade of cars on I-5 backed up on the Sunday night after Thanksgiving full of pilgrims trying to get back home to L.A. I’m thankful that now we just go up to see our relatives Sioux Falls.
So what’d ya have? White meat? Dark? Did ya go the John Madden NFL route and have a “Turducken?” Mashed potatoes? Dressing? Green bean casserole? Let me guess, cranberry something and some sort of pie? Why is it that millions of us Americans eat pretty much the same thing on Thanksgiving?
One of my fondest Thanksgiving memories was when Beth’s folks were out and instead of taking I-5 up to our cousins’ in Northern California, we decided to meander up Highway 1 along the coast. It took way longer than we thought it would, so we spent Thanksgiving night near of Hearst’s Castle. The pizza and beer was Okay, but at lunch we had stopped in Morrow Bay and had the best clam chowder on earth in a practically empty restaurant with huge windows overlooking the Pacific.
Some people’s first reaction would be pity. Thanksgiving without turkey? Sacrilege!
The truth of the matter is that the Pilgrims didn’t even have forks. Sorry, no forks, but they did have spoons, knives, and their fingers. They wiped their hands on the same napkins that they used as pot holders and tongs.
Miles Standish and Pricilla Mullins also had to some how get by without desert. They had brought sugar with them on the Mayflower but by the time of the feast, they were probably out. Oh yeah, no ovens either. That meant no pies, cakes, cookies, brown-and-serve rolls or even bread.
According to the historychannel.com Much of the first Thanksgiving was seafood; cod, eel, clams, and lobster. That makes sense, Plymouth, Massachusetts is pretty much a seafood bonanza. Notice, Allan (my father-in-law), no oysters. Maybe they waited for Christmas Eve, like you. Personally, I hate oysters, but Bethany hates lobsters, you can’t please everybody.
I understand that the Pilgrims might have had a turkey or two (wild though, not a big fat domestic tom). They and their Wampanoag Indian hosts also probably had plenty of other fowl like goose, duck, crane, swan, partridge, and yes, eagles (is nothing sacred?!). Talk about a lot of “tryptophan.” That’s that enzyme in bird meat that makes you sleepy. I bet nobody was left awake to do the dishes in then either. I for one really enjoy pheasant, you just have to be careful to pick the bird-shot out of the wound.
I tell ya what, anybody on the Atkin’s diet would have loved the first Thanksgiving. Cholesterol was the least of their worries. They were much more worried about small pox and the plague.
The menu continued with Venison, Seal (I hope no PETA members just read that). They had a little bit of stone ground wheat flour, and of course… “Indian corn.”
There was some other vegetables to, like roasted pumpkin, not as a pie, more likely soup. That one was one of George Washington’s favorites. I guess that there are only so many things you can eat with wooden teeth. Of course, Washington was a century later, don’t get your history confused.
The Pilgrims probably topped off their feast with peas, beans, onions, lettuce, radishes, carrots, plums, grapes, walnuts, chestnuts, acorns. No Stove Top stuffing, no French's® French Fried Onions or Campbell's® Cream of Mushroom to make that green bean casserole, and no Cool Whip®. Worst of all, the Pilgrims had no cranberry gelatin goop that makes that “shloop” sound when it slides out of the can.
No Lions’ game, no Cowboy’s game, but it was only a couple of decades before they had some wicked witch-hunts.
This first feast in 1621 wasn't repeated, so it couldn’t have been the start of our tradition. In fact, the radically conservative Puritan Pilgrims didn't call it “Thanksgiving.”
To them, a “thanksgiving” was a religious day, so they went to church and thanked God for a specific event, like winning a battle. On such a day, no recreational activities were allowed, like playing games or singing. You can bet that there would be no way that pagan savages like the Wampanoag’s would be invited. The Pilgrims were actually pretty intolerant for having come here for “religious freedom.”
Our Thanksgiving in America really got started with George Washington who declared a one-time holiday. Abe Lincoln proclaimed the last Thursday in November as"...a day of Thanksgiving and Praise to our beneficent Father who dwelleth in the Heavens." F.D.R. moved it to the fourth Thursday in 1939, to keep a fifth week in November from cutting into the Christmas shopping season.
Tomorrow (the Friday after Thanksgiving), is now the busiest shopping day of the year. Save your sanity, join thousands of penny pinchers by observing it as the “National Buy-Nothing Day.” Believe me, if you even try to go to a mall tomorrow, you’ll wish you hadn’t.
Turns out that the Macy's Parade, was started in the 1920's by first-generation immigrant employees of the department store who wanted to celebrate with the kind of festival they loved in Europe. They put on costumes, borrowed 25 animals from the Central Park Zoo and marched 111 city blocks, drawing a crowd of a quarter million, which pretty much guaranteed an instant tradition.
You should have seen the parade of cars on I-5 backed up on the Sunday night after Thanksgiving full of pilgrims trying to get back home to L.A. I’m thankful that now we just go up to see our relatives Sioux Falls.
Thursday, November 20, 2003
A little Sex, Politics, and Religion
I think I’ve shared with you before that I always hoped that this would be a place where we could talk about many different things, including the things people often avoid talking about. I even thought about naming the column “Sex, Politics, and Religion.” I certainly tend to write an awful lot about at least two of those three.
Almost every week I feel guilty about writing too long. This gets compounded when the paper comes out by Bethany’s sighs. Sometimes I get a little too heavy politically or preachy and I honestly do try to balance stuff out with some humor the best that I can. I even try to make every third column a light and fluffy humor column.
Some of you have shared with me that you actually enjoy how diverse the subject matter is from week to week. One person even told me that they liked how I tend to wander from topic to topic within each individual column. I knew my Attention Deficit Disorder would pay off someday!
Charles M. Schulz, the creator of the Peanuts comic strip once said “…if you do not say anything in a cartoon, you might as well not draw it at all. Humor which does not say anything is worthless humor. So I content that a cartoonist must be given a chance to do his own preaching.”
I realize that a picture is worth a thousand words and believe me, I know I'm no Charles Schulz, but I like to think that I apply his philosophy to this column. Interestingly enough, I noticed that long time political cartoonist Pat Oliphant has a syndicated column too now. No doubt Dave Barry will be drawing his own illustrations soon.
I can't resist the chance to talk about sex, politics, and religion all in one paragraph. Here goes-CNN.com recently ran a headline that read "The House of Bishops voted Tuesday evening to confirm the Rev. Gene Robinson as bishop of New Hampshire, making him the first openly gay bishop in the Episcopal Church's history."
Now that I've done it, I really shouldn't touch that one with a twenty-foot pole. Okay, I'll say this much, I understand that their own canonical law doesn't allow divorced priests to become Bishops. Robinson divorced his wife and now lives with a man, to whom he's not married. Therefore, although it's not my place to say since I'm a Lutheran, but whether or not he's gay is irrelevant, even if the Bible didn't call homosexuality a sin, the Episcopal diocese of New Hampshire still violated church rules.
Now, let's try giving sex, politics, and religion each their own paragraphs.
Politics: I'd have written Randy Steffen's name, but I showed up five minutes after the polls closed. I guess I drove too slow coming back from parent/teacher conferences in Dunlap.
I think I'm leaning toward Dean mostly because it looks to me like Gebhardt and Kerry are opposing him, more than they are Bush. It would take two or three columns to explain why I'd choose any of them over Bush, but I'll spare you today.
Religion: We took in the movie 'Luther' at the Donna Reed last week. It was much better than I expected. Of course, being a History major, you could expect me to enjoy a period piece like that. Even with the peasant's revolt included there wasn't nearly as much gore as 'Braveheart' or 'Gladiator.' There also wasn't any nudity, and barely any explicit language so it won't be a major box office hit.
I'm not only no Schulz, I'm no Luther either, but it was kinda neat to learn that he posted his 95 theses when he was only 33, since I'm only 33. Of course, he had a doctorate by the time he was 29 and I'm a long way from my Master's.
They sort of made it look as if Luther was a political cartoonist on top of being a theologian and musician. If I'm not mistaken Lucas Cranach the Elder and Albrect Durer handled most of Germany's propaganda art during the reformation.
Sex: no comment.
Humor: Well, Bethany tells me that I should update you about Halloween. The Spiderman costume came on time and Grace had a ball. Boy, that was funny. I missed trick or treating again. I was not sitting in a pumpkin patch waiting for the Great Pumpkin, I was freezing my tail off watching Boyer Valley get beat up in Lake View. Or was it Wall Lake?
The cheerleaders didn't bug me about wearing costumes. That's because the boss (our principal, Becky Panzi, a former cheerleading coach herself) read one of my columns where I anticipated that problem, came into Yearbook class and read them the riot act. God bless her.
Hey, I just got an idea! Let's see how few words I can use in a sentence and still mention sex, politics, and religion…"God bless Senator Clinton." Okay, okay, I know that how many Republicans read this, but I refuse to damn anyone, even if I don't like them. For the Republican's sake I'll add race and humor (but not racist humor, at least I don't think it is): "God bless President Carol Mosely Braun." See, her candidacy is kind of a joke because she's not even one of the front runners, so that's the humor. Okay, it wasn't all that funny. Okay, that also went from just four words to six. I guess we'll have to keep trying
I really wasn't sure what to write about this week. Did it show? Well, as the German philosopher Goethe once said, “One never goes so far as when one doesn’t know where one is going.”
Almost every week I feel guilty about writing too long. This gets compounded when the paper comes out by Bethany’s sighs. Sometimes I get a little too heavy politically or preachy and I honestly do try to balance stuff out with some humor the best that I can. I even try to make every third column a light and fluffy humor column.
Some of you have shared with me that you actually enjoy how diverse the subject matter is from week to week. One person even told me that they liked how I tend to wander from topic to topic within each individual column. I knew my Attention Deficit Disorder would pay off someday!
Charles M. Schulz, the creator of the Peanuts comic strip once said “…if you do not say anything in a cartoon, you might as well not draw it at all. Humor which does not say anything is worthless humor. So I content that a cartoonist must be given a chance to do his own preaching.”
I realize that a picture is worth a thousand words and believe me, I know I'm no Charles Schulz, but I like to think that I apply his philosophy to this column. Interestingly enough, I noticed that long time political cartoonist Pat Oliphant has a syndicated column too now. No doubt Dave Barry will be drawing his own illustrations soon.
I can't resist the chance to talk about sex, politics, and religion all in one paragraph. Here goes-CNN.com recently ran a headline that read "The House of Bishops voted Tuesday evening to confirm the Rev. Gene Robinson as bishop of New Hampshire, making him the first openly gay bishop in the Episcopal Church's history."
Now that I've done it, I really shouldn't touch that one with a twenty-foot pole. Okay, I'll say this much, I understand that their own canonical law doesn't allow divorced priests to become Bishops. Robinson divorced his wife and now lives with a man, to whom he's not married. Therefore, although it's not my place to say since I'm a Lutheran, but whether or not he's gay is irrelevant, even if the Bible didn't call homosexuality a sin, the Episcopal diocese of New Hampshire still violated church rules.
Now, let's try giving sex, politics, and religion each their own paragraphs.
Politics: I'd have written Randy Steffen's name, but I showed up five minutes after the polls closed. I guess I drove too slow coming back from parent/teacher conferences in Dunlap.
I think I'm leaning toward Dean mostly because it looks to me like Gebhardt and Kerry are opposing him, more than they are Bush. It would take two or three columns to explain why I'd choose any of them over Bush, but I'll spare you today.
Religion: We took in the movie 'Luther' at the Donna Reed last week. It was much better than I expected. Of course, being a History major, you could expect me to enjoy a period piece like that. Even with the peasant's revolt included there wasn't nearly as much gore as 'Braveheart' or 'Gladiator.' There also wasn't any nudity, and barely any explicit language so it won't be a major box office hit.
I'm not only no Schulz, I'm no Luther either, but it was kinda neat to learn that he posted his 95 theses when he was only 33, since I'm only 33. Of course, he had a doctorate by the time he was 29 and I'm a long way from my Master's.
They sort of made it look as if Luther was a political cartoonist on top of being a theologian and musician. If I'm not mistaken Lucas Cranach the Elder and Albrect Durer handled most of Germany's propaganda art during the reformation.
Sex: no comment.
Humor: Well, Bethany tells me that I should update you about Halloween. The Spiderman costume came on time and Grace had a ball. Boy, that was funny. I missed trick or treating again. I was not sitting in a pumpkin patch waiting for the Great Pumpkin, I was freezing my tail off watching Boyer Valley get beat up in Lake View. Or was it Wall Lake?
The cheerleaders didn't bug me about wearing costumes. That's because the boss (our principal, Becky Panzi, a former cheerleading coach herself) read one of my columns where I anticipated that problem, came into Yearbook class and read them the riot act. God bless her.
Hey, I just got an idea! Let's see how few words I can use in a sentence and still mention sex, politics, and religion…"God bless Senator Clinton." Okay, okay, I know that how many Republicans read this, but I refuse to damn anyone, even if I don't like them. For the Republican's sake I'll add race and humor (but not racist humor, at least I don't think it is): "God bless President Carol Mosely Braun." See, her candidacy is kind of a joke because she's not even one of the front runners, so that's the humor. Okay, it wasn't all that funny. Okay, that also went from just four words to six. I guess we'll have to keep trying
I really wasn't sure what to write about this week. Did it show? Well, as the German philosopher Goethe once said, “One never goes so far as when one doesn’t know where one is going.”
Thursday, November 13, 2003
Parent-Teacher Conferences should be about kids
At the time I am writing this, Boyer Valley had just finished up Parent-Teacher Conferences. That’s where teachers sit in a gym for four hours grading papers, cleaning out files, reading or talking to each other about College Football while they wait for what few parents come to come. No, seriously, it’s a beneficial thing but no matter what school you’re at there are several things that are true;
The kids who’d parents the teacher most needs to speak to don’t come. Some parents feel very intimidated and defensive because they can’t understand why their child is doing so poorly. Some teachers feel intimidated and defensive because they can’t understand why they’re the ones under scrutiny when it’s the kid who didn’t turn any homework in on time with their name on it.
One year in California a parent stayed at my desk for nearly 90 minutes! His child was pulling an ‘A’ in my History class and had no real beef with me, although it was very important to the dad that I wasn’t teaching liberal politics. I’ve always prided myself on try to see and share both sides of every issue. My primary goal as a teacher is always to equip students with critical thinking skills so that they can do their own thinking and form their own opinions.
This parent complained about everything from the cost of filling chuck-holes to clandestine government conspiracies but spent most of his time preaching to me about the virtues of guns and the second amendment.
I tried my best to just listen and not attempt to dispute anything he said.
Another year I found myself under the scrutiny of a set of parents who were upset that their daughter didn’t make it back on to the cheer squad. There was a night that I probably would’ve tested positive for high blood pressure. Forty-five minutes into the meeting I made a mental note to myself; “for future reference; never schedule tryouts the week of or the week before parent/Teacher conferences.” Whew!
The thing I probably miss the LEAST about teaching History are those students, bless their hearts, who would have a coronary if they received a ‘B+’ or an ‘A-.’ You know, the ones who would fly off the handle about how I was ruining their lives and preventing them from achieving their dreams because of the grade I GAVE them.
Hello? Teacher’s don’t GIVE grades arbitrarily because they want to ruin you dreams. They merely REPORT the grades that you’ve EARNED. Studying helps. So does 1) actually doing the homework, 2) bothering to turn it in when it’s due, and 3) having your name on it.
My, conferences have usually been much less dicey since I’ve been teaching only Art. Let’s face it, you almost have to TRY to fail Art. When a student does get a ‘C,’ it’s usually because of a severe lack of effort. Their parent’s, fortunately or unfortunately depending on how you look at it assume it’s because their kid just isn’t talented and Art isn’t important so why bother the poor teacher about it. Mind you, I’m the kind of Art teacher who sincerely and adamantly believes that EVERY student NEEDS to learn about Art, EVERY student SHOULD learn about Art, and believe it or not, almost anyone CAN learn to draw if he or she wants to.
I enjoy getting to meet the parents of my students. Sometimes it’s a lot of fun. Some times it can tug at your heart strings. I had a pair of parents who came on behalf of a student who’s living with them for the semester. Not an exchange student, not a foster kid, just a Senior who’s parents abandoned them and who’d last host kicked ‘em out. These new host parents, genuinely want to help him get into college. What hearts.
I don’t know how far off Charter Oak-Ute’s next batch or parent-teacher conferences is but, I’d like to offer some advice for three types of people affected by parent teacher conferences.
Students- Don’t fret and sweat so much. It’s a good thing if your parents attend these conferences. It means they care about you. Believe it or not, so do most of your teachers. They certainly didn’t get into their line of work for the pay. If you’ve been trying your best and don’t have anything to hide, parent-teacher conferences may be temporarily embarrassing, but are no big deal. As Disney’s Kim Possible says “So not the drama!”
Teachers- Make sure you listen more than you talk and make sure you keep your emphasis on the student and strategies for helping them. Don’t waste time either selling your program or trying to defend your teaching style. Parents want help, not a pitch.
Parents- Always remember that teachers are human. Well, most of us anyway. That means we need you to be a little patient and forgiving, but that also means not to put them on any kind of pedestal. What I’m saying is that you going to talk about your child is not the same as you being called into the principal’s office when you were a student, so don’t get scared. At the same time, these are professionals who have had a lot of training in what they do and sacrifice a lot to do it, so please hear them out.
Neither parents or teachers should go into conferences planning on attacking or being attacked. Their common objective is helping kids. Both parents and teachers should keep that in mind.
The kids who’d parents the teacher most needs to speak to don’t come. Some parents feel very intimidated and defensive because they can’t understand why their child is doing so poorly. Some teachers feel intimidated and defensive because they can’t understand why they’re the ones under scrutiny when it’s the kid who didn’t turn any homework in on time with their name on it.
One year in California a parent stayed at my desk for nearly 90 minutes! His child was pulling an ‘A’ in my History class and had no real beef with me, although it was very important to the dad that I wasn’t teaching liberal politics. I’ve always prided myself on try to see and share both sides of every issue. My primary goal as a teacher is always to equip students with critical thinking skills so that they can do their own thinking and form their own opinions.
This parent complained about everything from the cost of filling chuck-holes to clandestine government conspiracies but spent most of his time preaching to me about the virtues of guns and the second amendment.
I tried my best to just listen and not attempt to dispute anything he said.
Another year I found myself under the scrutiny of a set of parents who were upset that their daughter didn’t make it back on to the cheer squad. There was a night that I probably would’ve tested positive for high blood pressure. Forty-five minutes into the meeting I made a mental note to myself; “for future reference; never schedule tryouts the week of or the week before parent/Teacher conferences.” Whew!
The thing I probably miss the LEAST about teaching History are those students, bless their hearts, who would have a coronary if they received a ‘B+’ or an ‘A-.’ You know, the ones who would fly off the handle about how I was ruining their lives and preventing them from achieving their dreams because of the grade I GAVE them.
Hello? Teacher’s don’t GIVE grades arbitrarily because they want to ruin you dreams. They merely REPORT the grades that you’ve EARNED. Studying helps. So does 1) actually doing the homework, 2) bothering to turn it in when it’s due, and 3) having your name on it.
My, conferences have usually been much less dicey since I’ve been teaching only Art. Let’s face it, you almost have to TRY to fail Art. When a student does get a ‘C,’ it’s usually because of a severe lack of effort. Their parent’s, fortunately or unfortunately depending on how you look at it assume it’s because their kid just isn’t talented and Art isn’t important so why bother the poor teacher about it. Mind you, I’m the kind of Art teacher who sincerely and adamantly believes that EVERY student NEEDS to learn about Art, EVERY student SHOULD learn about Art, and believe it or not, almost anyone CAN learn to draw if he or she wants to.
I enjoy getting to meet the parents of my students. Sometimes it’s a lot of fun. Some times it can tug at your heart strings. I had a pair of parents who came on behalf of a student who’s living with them for the semester. Not an exchange student, not a foster kid, just a Senior who’s parents abandoned them and who’d last host kicked ‘em out. These new host parents, genuinely want to help him get into college. What hearts.
I don’t know how far off Charter Oak-Ute’s next batch or parent-teacher conferences is but, I’d like to offer some advice for three types of people affected by parent teacher conferences.
Students- Don’t fret and sweat so much. It’s a good thing if your parents attend these conferences. It means they care about you. Believe it or not, so do most of your teachers. They certainly didn’t get into their line of work for the pay. If you’ve been trying your best and don’t have anything to hide, parent-teacher conferences may be temporarily embarrassing, but are no big deal. As Disney’s Kim Possible says “So not the drama!”
Teachers- Make sure you listen more than you talk and make sure you keep your emphasis on the student and strategies for helping them. Don’t waste time either selling your program or trying to defend your teaching style. Parents want help, not a pitch.
Parents- Always remember that teachers are human. Well, most of us anyway. That means we need you to be a little patient and forgiving, but that also means not to put them on any kind of pedestal. What I’m saying is that you going to talk about your child is not the same as you being called into the principal’s office when you were a student, so don’t get scared. At the same time, these are professionals who have had a lot of training in what they do and sacrifice a lot to do it, so please hear them out.
Neither parents or teachers should go into conferences planning on attacking or being attacked. Their common objective is helping kids. Both parents and teachers should keep that in mind.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
