Alarms

This morning a fire alarm went off in the middle of my water aerobics class. We had to get out of the pool but, fortunately, they let us stand by the back door. Glad to not have to go outside in a wet suit on a balmy Chicago Spring day (translation: rainy, cloudy, in the 40's) and glad that it was just the result of someone's unfortunately cooking in the Senior Center wing of the building.

This rare experience made me think of other alarms. Recently I was in the Newark airport when an astoundingly loud alarm blared for fifteen minutes. The bizarre thing was that no one did anything---the gate agents continued their work, the restaurant employees kept on serving food, the cleaners continued cleaning. We never were told what had happened.

Back in the 70's bomb threats were common in schools. The first time it happened at Chippewa we emptied the school very quickly and, while we stood outside far from the building, the police came and went through every locker and nook and cranny in the school. It was scary. With each succeeding threat we became more blasé because we knew that, as we stood outside, the secretary had already recognized the voice of the student who had called in the alarm while he was home "sick".

Some tornado alarms have been frightening. The most recent happened when Northbrook experienced a "micro-burst". The final bell had just rung, some kids were exiting the building, some were at their lockers, some were getting on the bus, parents were waiting in cars in front of the building, and a team from another school had just arrived for a game. No neat lines of students grouped by class on the lower level happened, but all the adults present did get everyone to the lower level until the storm passed and we were able to go outside and see all the damage nature had wrought.

The micro-burst was a real threat and, fortunately, the only real threat I remember experiencing.
Post 9/11 we were hearing daily about the color of the threat level. Our local fire department had a color coded threat flag hanging below the American flag and every day my stomach would tense a bit as I saw the yellow or orange flag flying. On the way home from aerobics today, I noticed that those flags are no longer flying. Now if they can only stop those inane threat announcements at O'Hare which tell you to put your liquids in quart sized plastic bags AFTER you have gone through security.

We are now getting media alarm messages about the Swine Flu. I poo-pooed the media frenzy until this morning's paper announced that a school in Chicago is closed because of the disease.

Obviously, we can't live without alarms. If there had been a real fire in the pool area, we would have gladly gone outside in spite of the weather. That would be a real threat that we could do something about. We are so inundated, however, by alarms about things we really have no control over that we begin to ignore all alarms just as people at the Newark airport totally ignored that awful alarm last month....and that is alarming!

Hunting Trip

No deer on this hunting trip....but Kevin will keep on hunting.

Hunting License

Kevin's final concert with Civic Orchestra was last night. It was a wonderful concert, but was anti-climatic in the percussion department. There was no percussion in the major piece and Kevin played cymbals for only a few moments in the shorter first piece. However, I'm not sure I'll ever get over the thrill of seeing him on the stage at Orchestra Hall. I suspect he also catches his breath a bit as he steps onto that stage. Even if Kevin ends up in the Boston Symphony or the New York Philharmonic some day, that Chicago hall will always be special.

Today Kevin is driving to Kansas City for an audition tomorrow. He is thrilled to have been invited to audition -- many friends/colleagues weren't -- but he is still only one out of many who will audition. When he gets back he begins a whirlwind several days with a school concert on Thursday, a community concert Friday morning, a university/church combined concert Friday night, a concert at our church Saturday, and two concerts on Sunday. Somewhere in the middle of those concerts he has to borrow tympani and transport them to two sites.

Then the following week has almost no activity...except practicing for yet another audition later in the month.

At his graduate school graduation last year one of Kevin's teachers said, "Well, now you have your hunting license." So, Kevin is "out hunting" and, like the deer hunters who may have to make many trips to the forest before sighting their buck, he keeps on keeping on and we're immensely proud of him!

Note to David: I will soon write about how proud we are of you, too!!

Passions

A few weeks ago I told of the experiences my BER program manager Annie had as a Fulbright teacher in Germany. She taught at a middle school for students who had been deemed "non-college bound" IN FOURTH GRADE. Another example of how very wrong that is just happened.

I first met David N. on our David's first day of first grade. David N's family lives around the corner and our families' lives inter-twined throughout the boys' school days, especially after David N's mom provided before and after school care for our boys when I went back to teaching. A kinder family could not be found!

Several years later David N. ended up in my Spanish class. David worked very hard, but found Spanish difficult. He struggled in some other classes as well. In Germany he might have been assigned to Annie's school. Instead he found his niche in high school and went on to study business in college, with the goal of opening his own landscaping business.

Today David N. met with us to discuss solutions to many lawn and garden problems. He talked with great expertiece about herbicides, pesticides, insecticides and all sorts of other "cides". He quoted studies. He estimated. He positively glowed.

Like so many other boys who aren't so sure about themselves in middle school, David N. found something he truly loves to do and, once that passion was identified, worked and studied to become a master at it. Since he knows us well, David N. and Ken talked quite a bit about the perils of owning your own business. I can't believe that the no-so-confident former 8th grader now talks about buying machines that can cost up to $60,000! We've seen the results of David N's work in friends' yards and were truly impressed. We're even more impressed with the confidence and joy he clearly demonstrates.

As middle school teachers we see many kids at their absolute worst: hormonally challenged, non-motivated, lacking common sense, and un-willing or unable to perform academically. Some of them we later read about in the police blotter, but many do turn out like David N. They find their passion and then everything else falls into place.

Maybe future middle school teachers should be required to be parents first, observing both their own children and their children's friends go through all the stages and become adults, before being allowed to teach....and especially before being allowed to pass judgment on any kid!

Now we're off to see another former middle school student who found his passion and is "busting his buns" to succeed in it. Wonder if Kevin's middle school teachers ever envisioned him playing in Orchestra Hall? I hope they did see that potential....and that they see it in the many other boys who are still looking for their passion.

The Mundane and the Thought-provoking

So yesterday's "guilty pleasures" were just that and today is not...........but mundane brings its own gifts and questions.

Gifts

Today is an early taste of summer -- 80º, the sun is shining, the birds are chirping and the azaleas by our back porch are almost in full bloom. The usual Friday walk around the lake in Glenview was windy, warm and full of summer promise. I stopped at the nursery and bought my pansies to plant in the front flower box---and, oh, how I love pansies! A gift of living in this lousy climate is the surprise of a day like today.

Today is the tag day for Misericordia, a huge care center for mentally and physically challenged adults and children in Chicago. Our good friend Rita's son, now 23, has lived there since infancy and has thrived, advancing far beyond early expectations. When I put my money in the collection box today I, obviously, thought of Jay, but also pondered the incredible gift that this institution offers to thousands of families like Jay's. The volunteer holding the can today likely is a parent or a friend of a parent fulfilling some of the 100's of hours families must provide each year in fund-raising. Misericordia, like most service agencies, is often on the brink of disaster, but with volunteer fund-raising and lots of state money, they continue to serve. I'm not always comfortable with the various people holding donation cans for other causes, but it's a privilege to give when one knows the incredible good work being done by the organization that is a gift to so many families.

Besides, the volunteer gave me TWO bags of jelly-bellies!

Gifts and Questions

The gift is that my mother and her roommate are once again treating each other cordially after a tiff earlier in the week. The annoyance is that her phone is acting up. The question regards clothing (still!). Even though the lost clothing episode has still not been resolved, I bought Mom some clothes when I had coupons and Kohls had a huge sale. Mom tried things on and two shirts were big. Her roommate asked if she could try them on, found they fit, and asked if she could pay me for them "when her friend brought her the money." That was two weeks ago and I haven't been paid.

Although I couldn't care less if she pays me the $20, Mom keeps asking me if Valerie has paid for the shirts. In my head, Valerie has a miserable life and if two shirts bring her some pleasure, great! The question, however, is if I am I doing Valerie a favor or a disservice by not holding her accountable?

The second gift and question refer to the grocery store. The Jewel today had incredibly reduced prices on many items AND I had a 10% coupon off the entire purchase. Quite a gift, but is the grocery store hurting so much in these economic times that they have to offer such extreme deals? I suspect so, but hope that the big bosses just had a burst of spring fever!

So, enough with thinking. Time to each lunch and get at those pansies!

Guilty Pleasures

Some days are filled with mundane duties: grocery shopping, laundry, etc. Some are productive: work on BER preparation or other big project. Some are service: soup kitchen, visiting Mom. Some are personal growth days: Bible study, attendance at concerts or exhibits. Most are a mixture of the above. Occasionally--today-- it's a day of guilty pleasures!

Guilty pleasures can mean many things to many people. For me today, guilty pleasures means Bridge and Joseph!

Back in the early 70's I learned Bridge from my then-roommate Pat. A group of District 62 teachers played once a month during the later 70's and early 80's, although we did a lot more talking than playing! In intervening years there were rare playing opportunities, so I was excited to finally play regularly with other retired District 28 friends.......until one of the four women left for a winter in Florida. Today SHE'S BACK and we're playing!

I'm not a very good Bridge player. I can't begin to remember who played what card and sometimes make stupid errors, but I love the thinking that goes on in bridge and the uniqueness of each hand. We like to talk (duh!), but this group does focus on the game and have found ourselves acting like addicts. "I need to go home soon." "Let's stop after one more game." "Well, this will be the final hand." "OK, just one more." It will be hard today to leave my guilty Bridge pleasure to be on time for the "Joseph" guilty pleasure.

Some people love Opera and see the same operas over and over again. Some see "A Christmas Carol" every year. I love the musical "Joseph" and have seen it over and over again. It's cheesy, repetitive, low rent musically, goofy....and I love it! I loved seeing Donny Osmond in downtown Chicago (twice!), I loved seeing it when David was playing "in the pit" for the high school presentation (six times!) and I know I'll love it tonight when I see it in the round at the Lincolnshire Marriott. I even bought the album.....back when one bought cassettes! I even wrote new words to the songs when our choir bid a silly musical farewell to our favorite organist, Jill.

I think I love "Joseph" because I smile and laugh out loud throughout the entire presentation. The sillier the song or acting, the more I laugh and smile.

And I'm smiling now in anticipation of a day of smiling and laughing.

And it's going to be 70º today!

And tomorrow I'll do the grocery shopping....

While I'm humming silly songs.

And not feeling guilty at all!

Ragtime

Everyone should have the opportunity to be on a pastoral call committee at some point in their life. Yes, it is a challenging responsibility and is very time consuming, but the opportunity to listen to pastors describe their faith, their core beliefs, and their ministry is always interesting and sometimes even life changing. Last night's candidate was no exception.

Last night's candidate talked about ragtime piano music. In ragtime piano the left hand maintains a constant repetitive pattern while the right hand can go off and play all sorts of different melodies and rhythms. The left hand's repetitive pattern keeps the beat going and prevents the right hand from going out of control as it experiments.

This pastor used the analogy to talk about empowering people to do ministry: freeing people to develop new ministries while providing them with the "left hand"--the necessary support, communication and feedback so they are not working alone.

That's a great concept for church, but it made me think about family. Ideally that's what families provide---the opportunity for us all to go out and try new things knowing that there is that steady "left hand" encouraging us, supporting us, and -- if necessary --reining us back in. What a wonderful gift---and I'm thankful to all of you who either by genes or by friendship have been my "left hand" over and over again!

And, of course, as a "sinister" person, any analogy that praises the left hand is truly wonderful to me!

It’a 8:00 a.m on Saturday, already a beautiful sunny day . and I’m looking out at Magician Lake. Magician Lake does hold magic for me.

In the fall of 1966, when I was only twenty years old, I student taught at Algonquin Jr. High in Des Plaines, Iliinois. (I went on to be hired after graduation and remained in Des Plaines until 1981 when David was born.) Almost immediately after meeting Dorothy Bishop, the “Spanish Coordinator”, I met Bonnie who served as the department secretary. She and her husband Bill lived only a few blocks from school with their 8th grade daughter Jan and 4th grade son Michael. Little did I know then how our lives would inter-twine.

One of the first things I learned about Bonnie was that she had grown up in “Spinks Corners” near Sister Lakes, Michigan. Somewhere in the late 60’s, Bonnie and Bill took the huge leap of buying a traditional small summer cottage on Magician Lake. They spent every weekend and most of the summers here. Eventually, they tore down the cottage and built a year-round cedar home and retired here.

Meanwhile, back in Des Plaines, Club 62 was beginning, although it didn’t have a name at the time. There were 12 schools in Des Plaines and Spanish was taught in grades 5-8, so we were a large staff. We had meetings every other Monday that often lasted until 6:00 p.m. since everyone was expected to share their teaching ideas, problems and successes. From those staff meetings also developed plans to make presentations at conferences and eventually the “Fiesta”, a huge daylong community event, was born. With all that togetherness and, because we all were either single or newlyweds, we became a very close group as school spilled over into our personal lives.

The staff changed from year to year, of course, but the core remained even as people changed jobs or stayed home with babies. Susan, Max and Annie had started a couple of years before I arrived. A few years later Pat and Sharie were hired, followed by Chris, Susan P. and Gina. Mary Pat arrived when ESL began. Then we began to adopt teachers from other disciplines—Rita, Darlene, Lorraine, Sherrill and Mary Anne-- who were “our kind of people” (the phrase Dorothy used when she found a new teacher who was a match for our department’s personality). Finally “Club 62” with its regular monthly breakfasts, officially began about 12 years ago when we realized that we were in danger of drifting apart as life took us to different jobs and locations.

Throughout all these years Bonnie has been a constant. Being a few years older than the rest of the group and being available in the Spanish office, Bonnie listened to and talked us through the boyfriends, the difficult classes, the weddings, the pregnancies, the toddlers, the celebrations and the sad times. We were the ears for her life’s events as well.

Starting in the early 70’s small groups occasionally went to Magician Lake and eventually “El Escape” was born and all of us would spend a precious few days together in the summer. (How many people would host 10 people for three days!) Even when husbands and babies came along, El Escape was a priority because those three days of laughter, wine and cheese on the pontoon boat, sun-bathing, strawberry picking, shopping, bridge and eating would see us through the rest of the year. Although “El Escape” sadly ended in the years following Bill’s death, it has come back in recent years. We are almost all retired now but we feel like the 20 year olds we were when this all began.

Did I mention silly? This is the group that once (a long time ago, thankfully) had a thigh measuring contest. Once all the españolas circled the cabin late at night chanting the Three Bears play that we all had taught to 5th graders. Last night the laughter developed over confessions of getting your finger caught in your nose while washing your face, giving cats baths, and hearing “Viagra” when “Ibruprofen” was intended…..this after seven of us stood on the train platform in St. Joe waving like a bunch of idiots as the eighth member of this weekend’s group arrived from Chicago. Who knows what silliness today holds?

I’m sure up for it!


P.S. - It's now Monday morning. I'm happy to be home today as I may have actually "used up all my words" (one of Ken's sayings) but, oh, what fun it was using them up! What a blessing to have people who know all my warts and all my history, but still like me!

Strange Encounters

My mother will sometimes brag to a Spanish speaking employee at Rosewood that I have taught 30,000 students during my career. Math is definitely not her strong suit.....but I probably have taught close to 4,000 kids, so it's not uncommon for me to read about, hear about, or come into contact with former students.

One of the joys of retirement is that I no longer run into current students at Walgreens, in the grocery store, or in the pizza joint. The former students I see in those local hangouts either don't recognize me or are quite pleasant. No more dealing with students ducking down the next aisle to avoid having to say hi or, worse yet, embarrassing those students who happen to be with a parent who wants a parent-teacher-student conference in the grocery aisle.

Then there are the kids I read about: the delightful wedding announcements where I find out that "Fred" who never did his homework in 8th grade is now an attorney or brain surgeon, the "college news" section where I see that "Matilda" who was afraid to speak Spanish is spending her junior year in Ecuador and, of course, the police blotter where I see which former students have been busted on drug or alcohol charges. Some surprises, some not.

Then there are the students - past or present - who have appeared in very strange places in my life.

• the totally mortified student who happened to be in the same small group of people at the top of the St. Louis arch sometime back in the 70's. There's no escaping your teacher when you have to wait with the group for the next elevator down!
• the even more mortified student who happened to be in line with Ken and me at Hearst castle in California on our honeymoon! The poor boy's entire body was quivering with the thoughts he had about what we were doing on that trip!
• little 7th grade Doug who ended up being a highly respected oncologist! My poor mom was understandable nervous about her treatment and didn't exactly appreciate how "Doug" and I spent most of the visit reminiscing about Chippewa Jr. High! (The big relief of that visit was finding out that Robert Roberts had changed his first name!)

The ultimate encounter, however, happened just last week. As I'm calmly getting my nails done, the manicurist says, "You don't remember me, do you?" Once Yuri told me her name I did remember her and we enjoyed catching up on her life. HOWEVER, I was horror struck throughout our conversation because this was the SECOND time she had worked on me. The previous week she had given me a pedicure. To say it's mortifying to have a former student cut my toenails, massage my calves, and cut ugly cuticles is putting it very mildly!

I thought my pedicure encounter was about the most disconcerting ex-student meeting possible until I related this story to teacher friends at breakfast today. Seems one of my friends was in the process of delivering a baby when the intern - you got it, a former student - walked in to help.

Parables for Today - Part 2

Only two more Bible study lessons on the Parables! I promise to drop the "Parables for Today" topic soon but, in preparing for tomorrow's study and looking ahead to the study I will have to teach next week, real world ties just jump out at me.

Tomorrow's lesson is about the judge "who neither feared God nor had respect for people" who finally gave in to the persistent widow who kept bugging him to provide her justice in her claim. The parable is an appeal to persistence in prayer. In reading the material, however, my mind keeps going back to the judge, the guy who in his own words says, "Though I have no fear of God and no respect for anyone...".

My mind goes back to the judge because our former governor, his brother, and several others were arraigned today on 16 counts of fraud, bribery and assorted other charges. In Jesus' time the judicial system worked on bribes. In Illinois, apparently, the system still works on bribes and on people who "have no fear of God and no respect for anyone." Incidentally, the former governor and his cohorts pleaded not-guilty.

Next week's lesson is the Pharisee and the Tax Collector. Both went to pray at the Temple. The Pharisee loudly proclaimed his good deeds and that he was thankful to be better than everyone else while the Tax Collector stood apart and said "God, be merciful to me a sinner". The well-known lesson is that "all who exalt themselves will be humbled, and all who humble themselves will be exalted."

Of course, my brain went off in different directions.

1. Don't judge others. OK, our constitution says that Blagojevich is innocent until proven guilty. Who am I to judge him or others? But, then again, there's the issue of the damning tapes in which the former governor essentially says that, like the judge, he doesn't care at all about God or people, just about filling his pockets. "All who exalt themselves will be humbled"????

2. Humility vs. confidence. If you were to describe someone to me as a "humble" person, my image would be of someone hiding in the corner hoping no one would notice him/her. I know that's not what humble really means, but it gets confusing. God gives us skills and abilities and wants us to use them to his glory. If I got all wimpy and self-deprecating when I give a BER seminar or if David didn't show confidence when he makes a technical presentation, participants would not hear our messages. On the other hand, the biggest turn-off in the world is the speaker who tells the audience how wonderful he/she is. How to recognize our sinfulness, be humble, yet use our gifts to God's glory at the same time requires walking a fine line. It's not as simple as "all who humble themselve will be exalted."

3. Humility vs. self-esteem. I subscribe to "FLteach", a listserv for foreign language teachers. Generally, teachers post a question and, usually, dozens of people respond. Today's topic began with a teacher who said her principal is instituting a policy that the teachers no longer may give any zeros. The lowest possible grade, by decree, will be 50%. The student who never pays attention, never does homework and never passes a test will never have a grade below 50%. Responses to this posting indicate that this teacher's situation is not unique, it's happening all over the country. Is this type of educational policy unrealistically "exalting" students or is it a way of showing mercy?

Since I don't have to teach the Pharisee/Tax Collector lesson until next week, I'm confident that you'll have all the "answers" for me before then! Certainly an easy task.....oh wait, we've only been deliberating this parable for about 2,000 years!

Easter

So, here they are....the beautiful lamb cake...and the beautiful lamb birthday cake! Jennifer solved the whole eating issue by suggesting that we just cut off the head and cut the first slices from that part. We did, everyone ate and was happy!


The Easter Gospel yesterday was from Mark. This version of the Easter story ends abruptly after Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James and Salome go to the tomb but, instead of finding Jesus' body, they find a young man who tells them that Jesus has been raised. Rather than joyfully going to tell the disciples what they have found, "they went out and fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them, and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid."

Not surprisingly, our pastor spoke of fear and hope in his sermon---the fears of the un- or under-employed, those who have lost investments, those who face illness, and so forth. What was surprising was that the front page article in the Tribune was titled "Pastors relying on Mark's message in troubled times." Rather than headlining stories of the Pope blessing people in Vatican Square or of children rolling eggs on the White House lawn, a major newspaper actually talked about faith and what it means in our current world situation. A Lutheran pastor was quoted, "Today I think the Resurrection is a story that reminds us that no matter what we face, no matter what our fears are, we can look forward and ahead with hope."

That hope was sitting around my table yesterday afternoon. There were two brothers-in-law who are out of work, a disabled sister-in-law, an elderly mother with multiple health issues, and a son who is currently very busy but faces professional uncertainty. The others who do not have major, visible problems at this moment also have our private fears. But yesterday, we ate and talked and laughed and ended our meal with a very silly lamb cake as we sang Happy Birthday to Kevin's girlfriend Jennifer

Although we didn't talk "religion" at dinner, we were together and knew that we can be Christ for each other and be there in good and bad times. We know that "no matter what we face, no matter what our fears are, we can look forward and ahead with hope." Wow!

Lamb Cake

So the Easter lamb cake is in the oven! I don't remember exactly when the lamb cake mold was purchased, but I've been making the lamb cake for most of our married life. I use my Grandma Lense's pound cake recipe and that brings back all sorts of memories. This pound cake was the first recipe I learned to make by myself when I was a little girl. Although I don't have many memories of interactions with my Grandpa Lense, I do have a memory of strong pride in being able to make a pound cake for him. Two other strong grand-parental memories are that Grandma always had a candy dish on the side board in the dining room that was open game for us and that she always carried Bit-O-Honey candy in her purse which made for very sticky fingers when we rode together in the back seat of the car. I wonder if its common that so many grandparental memories hinge on food? I'll have to make a mental note to bring that up for conversation at our Club 62 gab-fest in Michigan next weekend. But, I digress.

I decorate my lamb cake with sticky-sweet white frosting from the can, then apply the "pieces de resistance"----eyes made from black jelly beans, a stupid looking smile made from pink M and M's, a "necklace" of multicolored M and M's and a "tail" consisting of one black jelly bean. For a special final touch there is usually a ring of multi-colored jelly beans around the bottom edge. No beautiful coconut covered, artistically ribboned store bought cake can compare!

The problem is, however,.....no one likes to eat lamb cake! When we used to have bigger groups for Easter dinner, I'd make a second dessert. What happened is that everyone chose the second dessert and my beautiful lamb just sat there ignored. I quickly learned to ONLY make lamb cake whether our group is big or small! If they want to have dessert, they have to eat the poor lamb's head and put up with the awful candy decorations. So there!

I guess this is how traditions get started. This year we will celebrate Jennifer's birthday on Easter. I asked her last night how she feels about having a lamb cake for her birthday cake. I even went so far as to suggest that we could arrange the candles on the lamb's head in Santa Lucia style. She looked at me like I was crazy and then with polite enthusiasm answered "Sure".

Jennifer's family obviously never had Easter lamb cakes, but this year will start a tradition for her. Lisa, with a few more years of Kosnik Easters under her belt, has brought a little more artistry into the cake decorating over the years and seems to appreciate the tradition.

If Jennifer some day becomes my second daughter-in-law, maybe she and Lisa at a time in the very distant future will fight over who gets the lamb cake mold. Or maybe not.

Parables for Today

My mother was a bit crabby today. The missing clothing issue has still not been resolved, but the real issue of the day was that there was a "seder tasting" for the Jewish folks this afternoon. She didn't feel invited. She didn't understand what was going on. She felt like an outsider and she was unhappy. She said she shouldn't have to feel like she's in the minority. She wants to be with "Americans." Actually she really wants to be with only Lutheran "Americans" of Germanic heritage---as long as they are not so German as to actually have a German accent.

Welcome to the 21st century, Mom! I doubt that Mom is in the minority at Rosewood, but there are significant numbers of Jewish, Russian, Asian, and Hispanic residents...and the vast majority are just as "American" as she is. I know that Mom's xenophobia is a common thing among people her age. I imagine the elderly Jewish folks wish they didn't have to hang out with those elderly Christians and the elderly Russians wish that the Hispanic staff members would speak Russian instead of Spanish. Heck, the majority of my friends are caucasian Christians--and I hope I'm not yet labeled as elderly!

The funny thing is, my mother grew up in the Bridgeport neighborhood in Chicago -- Mayor Daley's stomping grounds. During her youth there were four different Lutheran churches on the corner by their home---each ministering to a different ethnicity! In addition there were different Catholic churches for the Irish, Polish, and German segments of the community. Today I believe most churches in Bridgeport minister to differing ethnicities...but there still is plenty of tension between the old Irish guard and the newer Eastern European and Hispanic arrivals. Different cast of characters at Rosewood and in Bridgeport, but the "insider-outsider" issues are the same.

Going much further back, yesterday Max, Susan and I visited the Aztecs exhibit at the Field museum. I could write a lot about that wonderful exhibit, but the factoid that relates to this story is the following: When the Spanish tried to conquor Tenochtitlán, the Aztec stronghold, they were helped by many smaller indigenous groups that had previously been conquered by the Aztecs. Seems those smaller groups didn't like being "outsiders" in the Aztec dominated society.

So this is a difficult concept that humanity has struggled with forever. It's terrifying to realize how many wars are going on right this minute because one group doesn't want to be a minority. On a personal level we are still most comfortable with people who are like us.

I am optimistic, however, that, at least on the local level, we are getting better at expanding our comfort zone. In my childhood I accepted the idea that Lutherans of German heritage were somehow at the top of the ethnic/religious food chain, but thankfully I have outgrown that concept and am enriched by friendship with people of differing faiths and ethnicities.

In our current Bible Study on the Parables, Jesus is continually berating the Pharisees for their unwillingness to reach out to people who are different than they. I've been reminded throughout this study that the Parables are for today.....but today they were really for today!

I Don't Get It!

Tonight is the final game in the NCAA basketball tournament and is also the Cubs opening game. Tonight is also the final Call Committee meeting before we start to meet with candidates. A member of the committee would like to be excused from the meeting because of the two aforementioned sports activities. I don't get it.

My upbringing was very strange in that my father did not have the slightest interest in any professional sports. I don't remember ever seeing any games on our television as a child. To add to that strangeness, I married a man who also doesn't have the slightest interest in any professional sports! In all honesty, I suspect that Ken's lack of excitement about professional sports was one of the things that attracted me to him.

The second strangeness of my upbringing is that we never had a dog or cat...and I married a man who had never had a dog or cat.

Somehow, the "sins" of the parents and grandparents have not entirely been passed on to the children. David and Kevin actually are baseball fans. They have been known to go to games! They watch games on TV! Most astounding, they both are step-parents to cats! Wow!

Their parents remain oblivious and pet free. David once mentioned in passing that he was going to a baseball game. We only found out that he was not at Wrigley Field for this Cubs game when we happened to be in a restaurant where it was being shown on TV----from Cincinnati! Who knows what other surreptitious sports watching has occurred without our knowledge?

Now, we can think of the nature vs. nurture thing. I seriously doubt there is any kind of anti-professional sports or anti-dog/cat gene, and strongly suspect that our weirdness is strictly due to our nurturing--especially since our children seem to have overcome their deprived backgrounds.

When it comes to missing important activities with real live people in order to watch a game, however, I still don't get it!

I Hope I Don't Want a Sandwich in Paris

Learning a language at age 63 ain't easy!

In preparation for our trip to Paris we bought Rosetta Stone French. I've been trying to work on it each day but, oh, is it frustrating!

The concept of Rosetta Stone is immersion and the use of intuitive clues. They are correct. The picture clues and the organized presentations do make great sense. I feel great about understanding written language so far, but fail miserably at understanding spoken language and speaking. The program has wonderful speech recognition capabilities -- they say something, you repeat, and it gives you a cheerful sound and a check when you reasonably match the correct pronunciation. When you don't match, however, you hear a nasty sound and get a big X. You can even go to four separate graphs which analyze your pitch, accents, and so forth so you can adjust your speech accordingly.

I just gave up after getting about 60 nasty sounds and X's when I tried to say "I want a sandwich". Four lousy words and I couldn't get anything but nasty sounds and big X's! No wonder Jill, my French teacher friend, says that I sound like a Spanish cow when I try to speak French!

Then there's reading and writing. In Spanish, with one exception, every letter is pronounced and every letter is consistently pronounced the same way. Seems that French doesn't pronounce about half of the letters. "Le poisson nage" sounds just like "Les poissons nagent." By the way, I can't wait to impress the Parisians with the above sentences. Wonder how I can casually insert "The fish (singular) swims." and "The fish (plural) swim." into conversations?

On a very basic level, it also doesn't help that the Spanish word "él" meaning "he", sounds just like the French word "elle" meaning "she".

The good news is that I just happened to speak to two people this morning who have recently returned from trips to Paris. In addition to giving me good restaurant tips, both assured me that just about everyone they met spoke Engish and just about everyone they met was very friendly.

I'll keep on plugging so I can get beyond the swimming fish level....but, if I don't master "I want a sandwich", I hope there are other things on the menu when we get to Paris!

Angels Unaware

I'm not sure where I stand theologically on the concept of angels, but there certainly are people who embody angelic traits. A few, through service to my mom, make me very thankful.

S. is my mother's "Stephen Minister". Stephen Ministers are lay people trained to be caring listeners and supporters to people in times of crisis or transition. S. has that incredible gift of asking a leading question and then truly and deeply listening, no matter how long the answer may take. I'm always busy with the nitty gritty -- Do Mom's hearing aid batteries need changing? How about watering the plants? Do I need to intervene in the crisis of the day? -- but S. gives the really needed service. She listens! And she is the only person I'm aware of who has really gotten into faith issues with Mom. She's a wonderful Mary to my busy Martha. Mom, I guess, needs both.

Yesterday S. brought my mother a portable CD player with earphones and a 3 CD set of familiar hymns. Today I put the earphones on Mom, inserted a CD, hit play and Mom sat there listening intently, totally ignoring me, for twenty minutes. She would have listened longer had I not turned it off. Mom has her old "boom box", but it's too complicated for her to operate and doesn't have earphones. On the portable unit, however, I was able to label the play/stop and volume buttons, leave it plugged in, and insert a CD ready to play. Hopefully, she will remember how to work it and spend part of this afternoon listening. Leave it to angel "S" to think of such a simple thing to bring Mom joy!

Mom's other continuing angel is Pat who, like S., regularly gives my mother the wonderful gift of truly listening. Since Pat has been part of our family for 40 years (yikes!) Mom loves being able to talk with someone "who knows the characters" in her life story. Pat knows that I worry about Mom when I'm out of town and always visits during those times. Recently Pat spent a weekend with her family in Boston, came back late Monday, taught school Tuesday, and, in spite of her exhaustion, still found time for an extended visit with Mom after school because she knew Mom wouldn't have other visitors. Now that's a caring angel!

Some angels make brief appearances. Yesterday it was the dentist. He listened to Mom - didn't talk to me over her head. When he found two small cavities, he asked if Mom was up to having them filled right then -- realizing that getting her to the office was no small feat. In less than an hour her teeth were cleaned, her partial was adjusted, and her cavities were filled!

In conversation I had commented to the dentist that the building only minimally meets ADA standards because is so difficult to enter with the wheel chair. It's a large building and he's just a tenant down the hall, but guess who just happened to be in the entry way ready to help with the doors as we left? This man, who could have been put off by Mom's direct "Where are you from?" question, instead graciously answered that he was born here to parents who were from India and then proceeded to treat her in a true angelic fashion.

Dealing with my mom's disability has opened my eyes a lot. Some people are nervous in the presence of a wheel-chair bound person. Some presume that her brain doesn't work just because her body doesn't and ignore her. Happily, however, most people act like S., Pat, and the dentist who see beyond infirmity and share great love with the person inside.

"Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison and did not take care of you?"

"Truly I tell you, just as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to me."

Matthew 25: 44-45

Validation

This afternoon I received the most incredible e-mail from Theresa who was at my BER presentation in Milwaukee. She explained a number of ways in which she has used my ideas in her classes, then joyously told of what happened in her class today. (For those of you who are language teachers it's particularly exciting to know that she found great joy in teaching direct object pronouns!) She ended her note with the following paragraph:

"I have never felt as good about my students and my class as I did today. I have never felt so validated about all the sacrifices I make of my free time, preparing activities and trying to make things engaging. I have never had so much FUN being at work in my life!"

I have never felt so good about my teaching either!!!

Theresa's note made me think of how lonely teaching really is. I certainly had many experiences when a class went really well and there was nobody I could tell about it who would understand.....until my room was across the hall from "mon amie" Jill who would both listen and understand. Merci, Jill!

I also remember the many times that a lesson totally bombed or I lost control of a particularly difficult class. It's hard to go to the teacher's lounge and confess that you can't control a certain bunch of 13 year olds! A few days ago I googled myself (for some totally professional reason, of course) and saw that the web site "Rate My Teachers" is still there. I couldn't look at it! Three years after retiring, I still worry what some creepy kid might have said about me. All teachers carry around their failures along with their successes. Most can tell friends or spouses about their good or bad day, but how many of those friends or spouses even begin to understand?

I was so incredibly lucky today to get validation of my current work. My hope is that all teachers - past, present and future - can feel as validated as Theresa and I did today. Man do they/you deserve it!