I recently stumbled across an intriguing site linked by my buddy-in-blogging Barb the Evil Genius (affectionately known as BTEG). It's a 4-question quiz utilizing aspects of the Meyers-Briggs personality test to identify one's blogging style. After taking the quiz I discovered (as expected) that my blogging style reflects my Meyers-Briggs personality type: INFJ.
Here is my blogging style, according to Bloginality (you may need to scroll down).
Here is a longer description of the INFJ personality type, according to The Personality Page, an online personality testing site based on Meyers-Briggs principles (disregard the new-age astrological stuff--that's not from Meyers-Briggs). I took the Meyers-Briggs test during employee orientation for a position as an academic advisor years ago, and I was impressed then by the accuracy of the results. The above summary is still a fair description of my personality. I didn't know that it is apparently the rarest personality type of all! (I think that's kinda cool, especially since I have always seen myself as more of a "blend into the wallpaper" type rather than someone who is unusual or unique.)
If you have never taken the Meyers-Briggs test and have an opportunity to do so someday, I would recommend it. It's quite long but extremely wide-ranging and thorough, which in my opinion is why the results tend to be pretty accurate. I found it interesting when I took the test to learn about the four spectrums along which personalities may be measured (Introvert-Extrovert, Intuitive-Sensing, Feeling-Thinking, and Judging-Perceiving) and to learn the meanings of those spectrums, which may not be what you expect. The Introvert-Extrovert spectrum, for example, has less to do with whether one is shy or outgoing and more to do with where one gets energy (from within or without) and in which "world" one tends to primarily live (the inner world of the mind or the outer world of the environment). By visiting the link above you might be able to get an idea of your overall personality type, but taking the actual test would give you a better indication of where exactly you lie within each spectrum (for example, how extroverted or introverted you are). Even with one personality type there can be significant variation because of the differences in where people of that type fall on a particular spectrum.
One last fun aspect of the website from which I got most of the above links consists of pages outlining how the various personality types may be manifested in a person's choice of career and his or her behavior in relationships with significant others, friends, and children. For my readers who might be interested (I'm thinking husband, children, and close friends), here's a description of the INFJ as spouse, parent, and friend. Here also is a description of the INFJ as worker and a listing of the best career choices (whaddya know--the list includes religious worker, teacher, medical doctor, dentist, psychologist, counselor, social worker, musican, photographer, and child care worker. Sounds like that pretty well sums up my two primary "jobs": homeschooling mom and self-employed musician!)
Saturday, October 27, 2007
Friday, October 26, 2007
Do You Have AAHIADMD?
A friend recently forwarded me a cautionary note about AAADD - Age Activated Attention Deficit Disorder. After reading of her case and carefully considering my own experience, I have decided that I too am suffering from this disorder, but that I have a specific strain known as AAHIADMD--Age Activated Homeschooling Induced Attention Deficit Mommy Disorder. As a service to my readers, I hereby post my own case study so that anyone else who is suffering may recognize the potential seriousness of the situation. If you find that you have experienced symptoms similar to those below, I urge you to seek help immediately.
I wake up and go downstairs to start the coffee. But as I head for the coffeepot, I decide to check my email. On my way to the computer, I notice some toys and books that the children left out the night before, so I head to pick them up. The first one I grab belongs in the bookcase upstairs, so I walk towards the stairs to carry it up. At about that time, I see the dog coming down to go outside, so I lay the book on the stairs and let the dog out the back door. As I look out the window, I realize the newly planted grass needs watering, so I go outside to turn on the hose. But at about that time, the dog asks to come back inside, and seeing her dirty paws I stop to wipe them before letting her in. But before I can do so, I hear the phone ring. So I leave the dog outside and go to answer it. However, I am too late to take the call, and it goes to voice mail. I resolve to listen to the message later.
I am starting to get a headache, so I head towards the coffee again. But first I decide to put some wet clothes in the dryer. Arriving in the laundry room, I discover that there are dry clothes in the dryer that need to be hung up before the wet ones can be transferred over, but now they are wrinkled from sitting. So I put the dryer on "de-wrinkle" and head back to the kitchen. On the way I pass by the dining room and notice the children's schoolwork from yesterday sitting out on the table. I still have not checked it. So I head for the table, thinking I will at least check their math before making coffee. I get through about half of one page and then remember I never wiped the dog's paws or turned on the hose. So I get up and again start towards the back door, but at about that time the dryer buzzer goes off, indicating it's time to take the clothes out, so I switch directions and head for the laundry room instead. But suddenly a voice comes from above: "Mommy, I need to go potty!" The 4-year-old is awake. So I go upstairs, greet him, and start changing his clothes, only to discover there is no clean underwear in his drawer. No problem--there are clean ones in the sock & underwear basket in the laundry room. So I go downstairs to get a pair. While I'm there, I start the dryer on "de-wrinkle" again. As I head upstairs, one of my older children, who is now awake, asks me a question about his assignments for the day. I go to answer but then notice another child, also now awake, letting the muddy dog in the back door. I scream "No!" but it is too late. Muddy dog is already running across the carpet. I go to grab the dog and put her back outside. Then I come back in and try to remember what I was about to do. I've only been awake for an hour, but I'm already exhausted. Not only that . . .
The coffee has not been made.
The schoolwork has not been checked.
The question has not been answered.
The toys and books have not been put away.
The voicemail has not been listened to.
The email has not been read.
The grass patch has not been watered.
The dog is covered with mud, and there are muddy pawprints all over the main level.
The clothes in the dryer have still not been hung up and are starting to wrinkle again.
There is a naked child running around the house.
I wake up and go downstairs to start the coffee. But as I head for the coffeepot, I decide to check my email. On my way to the computer, I notice some toys and books that the children left out the night before, so I head to pick them up. The first one I grab belongs in the bookcase upstairs, so I walk towards the stairs to carry it up. At about that time, I see the dog coming down to go outside, so I lay the book on the stairs and let the dog out the back door. As I look out the window, I realize the newly planted grass needs watering, so I go outside to turn on the hose. But at about that time, the dog asks to come back inside, and seeing her dirty paws I stop to wipe them before letting her in. But before I can do so, I hear the phone ring. So I leave the dog outside and go to answer it. However, I am too late to take the call, and it goes to voice mail. I resolve to listen to the message later.
I am starting to get a headache, so I head towards the coffee again. But first I decide to put some wet clothes in the dryer. Arriving in the laundry room, I discover that there are dry clothes in the dryer that need to be hung up before the wet ones can be transferred over, but now they are wrinkled from sitting. So I put the dryer on "de-wrinkle" and head back to the kitchen. On the way I pass by the dining room and notice the children's schoolwork from yesterday sitting out on the table. I still have not checked it. So I head for the table, thinking I will at least check their math before making coffee. I get through about half of one page and then remember I never wiped the dog's paws or turned on the hose. So I get up and again start towards the back door, but at about that time the dryer buzzer goes off, indicating it's time to take the clothes out, so I switch directions and head for the laundry room instead. But suddenly a voice comes from above: "Mommy, I need to go potty!" The 4-year-old is awake. So I go upstairs, greet him, and start changing his clothes, only to discover there is no clean underwear in his drawer. No problem--there are clean ones in the sock & underwear basket in the laundry room. So I go downstairs to get a pair. While I'm there, I start the dryer on "de-wrinkle" again. As I head upstairs, one of my older children, who is now awake, asks me a question about his assignments for the day. I go to answer but then notice another child, also now awake, letting the muddy dog in the back door. I scream "No!" but it is too late. Muddy dog is already running across the carpet. I go to grab the dog and put her back outside. Then I come back in and try to remember what I was about to do. I've only been awake for an hour, but I'm already exhausted. Not only that . . .
The coffee has not been made.
The schoolwork has not been checked.
The question has not been answered.
The toys and books have not been put away.
The voicemail has not been listened to.
The email has not been read.
The grass patch has not been watered.
The dog is covered with mud, and there are muddy pawprints all over the main level.
The clothes in the dryer have still not been hung up and are starting to wrinkle again.
There is a naked child running around the house.
I realize this is a serious problem, and I'll try to get some help for it, but first I need to go make some coffee . . . .
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Wednesday
A few of my blogging friends have recently written posts detailing their daily routines. Having found it highly interesting to read about how others (especially homeschooling moms) spend their time, I herewith offer my own blow-by-blow of a typical day. If this bores you to tears, feel free to navigate away at will. But for anyone who is interested, here's what I did yesterday.
5:00 a.m. - Alarm goes off. Snooze for 10 more minutes.
5:10 a.m. - Get out of bed, stagger downstairs and make coffee.
5:20 a.m. - Pray. Check email, blogs & morning news.
5:45 a.m. - Prepare for literature class: review today's stories (O Henry's "The Ransom of Red Chief" & Katherine Mansfield's "The Garden Party") and grade essays.
6:30 a.m. - Eat breakfast, chat with husband who has now awakened, unload dishwasher, load dirty dishes, wipe down cabinets.
7:00 a.m. - Shower, blow-dry hair, put on make-up, make bed.
7:45 a.m. - Wake up 3-year-old and get him ready for preschool.
8:15 a.m. - Wave good-bye to husband and 3-year-old.
8:20 a.m. - Get dressed. Carry up some clean laundry and carry down & sort dirty. Switch wet clothes to dryer and start another load to wash. Finish laying out materials for class.
9:00 a.m. - Greet class. Talk to a Dad for 15 minutes.
9:15 a.m. - Teach literature class.
10:30 a.m. - Conference with student about her essay.
10:40 a.m. - Send email to piano students I need to reschedule. Feed birds. Get ready to pick up 3-year-old at preschool.
10:55 a.m. - In transit. Pick up 3-year-old and drop off two literature students on the way. Breathe sigh of relief when preschool teacher gives me thumbs up meaning 3-year-old didn't hit anyone today.
11:30 a.m. - Go outside with 3-year-old and water grass patch while he plays on the swingset. Take towels out of dryer for folding. Switch wet clothes to dryer. Prepare and eat lunch. Instruct older children to clean up while 3-year-old and I go lie down.
12:30 p.m. - Lie down with 3-year-old. Doze off while he watches PBS.
1:15 p.m. - Get ready to take daughter to art class.
1:30 p.m. - Take daughter to art class at day school. While waiting for her (the class is too short to merit going back home), go to husband's office to talk about family & household stuff. Make some photocopies for husband. Return home with daughter.
3:00 p.m. - Read to 3-year-old.
3:15 p.m. - Run errands. Return video to library that was left at home when we went yesterday. Pick up drycleaning. Buy stamps at post office.
4:00 p.m. - Read aloud from The Yearling to older children. Try not to collapse into a blubbering idiot at the sad part.
4:45 p.m. - Get ready for piano students.
5:00 p.m. - Teach piano lessons.
6:00 p.m. - Cook and eat frozen pizza.
6:45 p.m. - Get ready to go to nursing home and give instructions to children on what to do in my absence.
7:00 p.m. - Drive to nursing home. Listen to Sean Hannity on the way.
7:25 p.m. - Visit with my mother.
8:20 p.m. - Drive home. Listen to Sean Hannity again.
8:45 p.m. - Read to 3-year-old and get him ready for bed. Tuck him in and say prayers.
9:15 p.m. - Welcome husband home. Chat while he warms up a can of soup for his supper.
9:20 p.m. - Send 3-year-old back to bed (he heard Daddy come in).
9:30 p.m. - Tell older children good night, wash face, brush teeth, get myself ready for bed.
9:45 - Check email & blogs again, work on post about my day.
10:30 - Talk to husband.
10:45 - Turn out light. Confirm alarm is still set for 5:00 a.m. Experience difficulty falling asleep even though I am tired beyond words.
What was good about this day:
1) Literature class. I really like literature class.
2) Reading to my children. It's one of the few things I seem to be able to slow down for.
3) A chance to talk to my husband without interruption.
4) Blogs and email.
5) Visiting my mom and seeing an upturn in her mood.
What I didn't like about this day:
1) I didn't get any exercise.
2) I didn't read my Bible.
3) My children ate frozen pizza for supper.
4) My husband ate canned soup for supper.
5) My husband was gone from the house for 13 hours. After I went to bed, he stayed up another half hour doing homework.
6) I feel like my children fended for themselves too much, especially the older ones with regard to their schoolwork.
7) Various tasks I hoped to complete are still undone and must be planned forward yet again.
Today (Thursday) will vary somewhat from yesterday: instead of literature class, we will have family devotion and French class with Dad. There will be no nursing home visit or driving to preschool and art class, but there will be more housework and laundry (as my friend Laura likes to say, "the laundry is never done"), three hours of piano students instead of one, plus adult choir at church tonight (2-1/2 hours including travel time). There will also be another round of errands to run (pick up raw milk order, go to pet store, shop for groceries, go to Caribou to get a new bag of coffee). Taking all of that into account, there is probably even less breathing room today than yesterday.
Short of giving up my email and blogging time and sleeping even less than I do, I am at a loss for how to squeeze more into my day. But I am also constantly frustrated by the things that don't get done. And I worry that my children are suffering under the shadow of a mother who is so feverishly trying to check things off the task list that I have forgotten how--as James Taylor advises--to "enjoy the passage of time." This is one reason I cling to my email and blogging time--it is about the only thing I do purely for my own enjoyment, and I think these days it is keeping me sane.
Time to get ready for French class! Have a good day, everyone.
5:00 a.m. - Alarm goes off. Snooze for 10 more minutes.
5:10 a.m. - Get out of bed, stagger downstairs and make coffee.
5:20 a.m. - Pray. Check email, blogs & morning news.
5:45 a.m. - Prepare for literature class: review today's stories (O Henry's "The Ransom of Red Chief" & Katherine Mansfield's "The Garden Party") and grade essays.
6:30 a.m. - Eat breakfast, chat with husband who has now awakened, unload dishwasher, load dirty dishes, wipe down cabinets.
7:00 a.m. - Shower, blow-dry hair, put on make-up, make bed.
7:45 a.m. - Wake up 3-year-old and get him ready for preschool.
8:15 a.m. - Wave good-bye to husband and 3-year-old.
8:20 a.m. - Get dressed. Carry up some clean laundry and carry down & sort dirty. Switch wet clothes to dryer and start another load to wash. Finish laying out materials for class.
9:00 a.m. - Greet class. Talk to a Dad for 15 minutes.
9:15 a.m. - Teach literature class.
10:30 a.m. - Conference with student about her essay.
10:40 a.m. - Send email to piano students I need to reschedule. Feed birds. Get ready to pick up 3-year-old at preschool.
10:55 a.m. - In transit. Pick up 3-year-old and drop off two literature students on the way. Breathe sigh of relief when preschool teacher gives me thumbs up meaning 3-year-old didn't hit anyone today.
11:30 a.m. - Go outside with 3-year-old and water grass patch while he plays on the swingset. Take towels out of dryer for folding. Switch wet clothes to dryer. Prepare and eat lunch. Instruct older children to clean up while 3-year-old and I go lie down.
12:30 p.m. - Lie down with 3-year-old. Doze off while he watches PBS.
1:15 p.m. - Get ready to take daughter to art class.
1:30 p.m. - Take daughter to art class at day school. While waiting for her (the class is too short to merit going back home), go to husband's office to talk about family & household stuff. Make some photocopies for husband. Return home with daughter.
3:00 p.m. - Read to 3-year-old.
3:15 p.m. - Run errands. Return video to library that was left at home when we went yesterday. Pick up drycleaning. Buy stamps at post office.
4:00 p.m. - Read aloud from The Yearling to older children. Try not to collapse into a blubbering idiot at the sad part.
4:45 p.m. - Get ready for piano students.
5:00 p.m. - Teach piano lessons.
6:00 p.m. - Cook and eat frozen pizza.
6:45 p.m. - Get ready to go to nursing home and give instructions to children on what to do in my absence.
7:00 p.m. - Drive to nursing home. Listen to Sean Hannity on the way.
7:25 p.m. - Visit with my mother.
8:20 p.m. - Drive home. Listen to Sean Hannity again.
8:45 p.m. - Read to 3-year-old and get him ready for bed. Tuck him in and say prayers.
9:15 p.m. - Welcome husband home. Chat while he warms up a can of soup for his supper.
9:20 p.m. - Send 3-year-old back to bed (he heard Daddy come in).
9:30 p.m. - Tell older children good night, wash face, brush teeth, get myself ready for bed.
9:45 - Check email & blogs again, work on post about my day.
10:30 - Talk to husband.
10:45 - Turn out light. Confirm alarm is still set for 5:00 a.m. Experience difficulty falling asleep even though I am tired beyond words.
What was good about this day:
1) Literature class. I really like literature class.
2) Reading to my children. It's one of the few things I seem to be able to slow down for.
3) A chance to talk to my husband without interruption.
4) Blogs and email.
5) Visiting my mom and seeing an upturn in her mood.
What I didn't like about this day:
1) I didn't get any exercise.
2) I didn't read my Bible.
3) My children ate frozen pizza for supper.
4) My husband ate canned soup for supper.
5) My husband was gone from the house for 13 hours. After I went to bed, he stayed up another half hour doing homework.
6) I feel like my children fended for themselves too much, especially the older ones with regard to their schoolwork.
7) Various tasks I hoped to complete are still undone and must be planned forward yet again.
Today (Thursday) will vary somewhat from yesterday: instead of literature class, we will have family devotion and French class with Dad. There will be no nursing home visit or driving to preschool and art class, but there will be more housework and laundry (as my friend Laura likes to say, "the laundry is never done"), three hours of piano students instead of one, plus adult choir at church tonight (2-1/2 hours including travel time). There will also be another round of errands to run (pick up raw milk order, go to pet store, shop for groceries, go to Caribou to get a new bag of coffee). Taking all of that into account, there is probably even less breathing room today than yesterday.
Short of giving up my email and blogging time and sleeping even less than I do, I am at a loss for how to squeeze more into my day. But I am also constantly frustrated by the things that don't get done. And I worry that my children are suffering under the shadow of a mother who is so feverishly trying to check things off the task list that I have forgotten how--as James Taylor advises--to "enjoy the passage of time." This is one reason I cling to my email and blogging time--it is about the only thing I do purely for my own enjoyment, and I think these days it is keeping me sane.
Time to get ready for French class! Have a good day, everyone.
Monday, October 22, 2007
Liturgy Solutions
Over two years ago Liturgy Solutions, Inc. announced the launch of its website providing new, downloadable and thoroughly Lutheran music for the liturgy. Since that time, the Liturgy Solutions catalog has grown considerably, as its founders seek to provide introits, graduals, verses, psalms, and hymn stanzas for every Sunday of the church year according to both the one-year and three-year lectionaries. Collections are made available on a seasonal basis, and after purchasing, customers have the permanent right to make unlimited copies for their congregation's use.
Liturgy Solutions describes its goal as one of providing "fresh liturgical music with integrity for the 21st-century parish." The roster of composers is an impressive array of some of the best Lutheran musicians creating new music today. (Full disclosure: one of the composers and co-founders of Liturgy Solutions is my husband.)
How interesting it was, then, to discover the newly announced line from Concordia Publishing House entitled Acclamation. According to CPH, Acclamation "provides fresh [emphasis mine] musical settings of the Introit, Psalm of the Day, Gradual, Gospel Acclamation, and Hymn of the Day stanza for each Sunday of the Church Year as well as the Festivals and Holy Days. Supporting both the three-year-series and the one-year series of propers, Acclamation will be available through the Internet for purchase on a weekly basis. Once the download has been made, the purchaser has permission to make enough copies for local use by the choir or soloist."
Hmmm . . . looks like a good idea is catching on! Here's to competition. But might I add that the cost for one Sunday worth of Acclamation downloads is $10, while the cost for a Liturgy Solutions booklet, covering an entire season of the church year, ranges from $30-40. In addition, Liturgy Solutions is now offering "breakout" booklets whereby the consumer can purchase smaller collections (for example, psalms or hymn stanzas only) at even less cost. Finally, Liturgy Solutions has a track record of proven quality and rich variety from its diverse and talented cache of composers.
If you've never checked us out, come on over and take a peek! And if you see anything that might be of interest to your own congregation, please pass on our site address to your pastor and/or musician.
Okay, commercial over. Now back to your regularly scheduled blogs.
Liturgy Solutions describes its goal as one of providing "fresh liturgical music with integrity for the 21st-century parish." The roster of composers is an impressive array of some of the best Lutheran musicians creating new music today. (Full disclosure: one of the composers and co-founders of Liturgy Solutions is my husband.)
How interesting it was, then, to discover the newly announced line from Concordia Publishing House entitled Acclamation. According to CPH, Acclamation "provides fresh [emphasis mine] musical settings of the Introit, Psalm of the Day, Gradual, Gospel Acclamation, and Hymn of the Day stanza for each Sunday of the Church Year as well as the Festivals and Holy Days. Supporting both the three-year-series and the one-year series of propers, Acclamation will be available through the Internet for purchase on a weekly basis. Once the download has been made, the purchaser has permission to make enough copies for local use by the choir or soloist."
Hmmm . . . looks like a good idea is catching on! Here's to competition. But might I add that the cost for one Sunday worth of Acclamation downloads is $10, while the cost for a Liturgy Solutions booklet, covering an entire season of the church year, ranges from $30-40. In addition, Liturgy Solutions is now offering "breakout" booklets whereby the consumer can purchase smaller collections (for example, psalms or hymn stanzas only) at even less cost. Finally, Liturgy Solutions has a track record of proven quality and rich variety from its diverse and talented cache of composers.
If you've never checked us out, come on over and take a peek! And if you see anything that might be of interest to your own congregation, please pass on our site address to your pastor and/or musician.
Okay, commercial over. Now back to your regularly scheduled blogs.
Word Fun
Driving home from choir this evening, my daughter and I observed a football practice underway. In light of the weather conditions (cold and drizzly), I remarked that I didn't envy those young players having to "rehearse" in the rain. After giggling about my choice of a musical word for a non-musical activity (and observing that one can both rehearse and practice a song but that one can only practice football), we began to muse on the word "rehearse." My daughter first considered the parts of the word, noting that it appears to be a combination of the prefix "re-" and the root "hearse," but indicating that she was not familiar with the word "hearse." So I defined it for her as a vehicle that carries the coffin in a funeral procession, but then went on to say that I found it hard to imagine a connection between "hearse" and "rehearse" and suspected "rehearse" was more likely traced to the verb "hear," since when we rehearse something there is an element of "re-hearing" it.
So much for my amateur attempt at linguistic analysis. When we arrived home we went for the dictionary and found that according to my Concise Oxford English Dictionary (which I absolutely love for the etymology and which my aging eyes love for the clean and legible format), "rehearse" likely comes from the Old French "rehercier" and is a combination of the prefix "re-", meaning "again" (at least we got that much right) and the root "hercer," meaning "to harrow." The definition of "harrow" is "an implement consisting of a heavy frame set with teeth or tines which is dragged over ploughed land to break up or spread the soil."
Huh? And from this we get both "hearse" and "rehearse"?
My Concise OED explains it far better than I can:
"The modern meaning of the word hearse is far removed from that of its ancient roots. It derives ultimately from a word in an extinct language of southern Italy, signifying a wolf's teeth. This word was absorbed into Latin as hirpex, denoting, with reference to the implement's teeth, a large rake. This entered Old French in the form herce, meaning 'harrow'. In English a hearse was originally a triangular frame similar in shape to an ancient harrow, designed to hold candles. From this it became an elaborate framework or canopy constructed over the coffin of an important person prior to their [sic] funeral. By the middle of the 17th century the word referred to a carriage built to carry a coffin, from which evolved the modern hearse, or funeral vehicle."
Okay, so that explains where we get "hearse." But what about "rehearse"? How does one get from a farming implement to a verb that means "to practice"?
Seems like an awfully big leap. But if you think about it, perhaps it's not such a leap after all. When one rehearses, what does he or she do but dig deeper into the thing being rehearsed--whether a musical work or a speech or a play--plowing it as one plows the earth to loosen the soil and make it more fertile than it otherwise would be. As I am continually trying to explain to my piano students, effective practicing (or rehearsing) is not merely superficial repetition of notes, but investigative study that goes beneath the surface to analyze the underlying patterns, structures, and form of the work.
Then of course, there's "harrowing" . . . but no, I think I'd better stop now. Otherwise we'll be here all night, jumping from one word to the next like one of those cowboys hopping between the roofs of train cars in a motion picture Western.
I just love the English language.
So much for my amateur attempt at linguistic analysis. When we arrived home we went for the dictionary and found that according to my Concise Oxford English Dictionary (which I absolutely love for the etymology and which my aging eyes love for the clean and legible format), "rehearse" likely comes from the Old French "rehercier" and is a combination of the prefix "re-", meaning "again" (at least we got that much right) and the root "hercer," meaning "to harrow." The definition of "harrow" is "an implement consisting of a heavy frame set with teeth or tines which is dragged over ploughed land to break up or spread the soil."
Huh? And from this we get both "hearse" and "rehearse"?
My Concise OED explains it far better than I can:
"The modern meaning of the word hearse is far removed from that of its ancient roots. It derives ultimately from a word in an extinct language of southern Italy, signifying a wolf's teeth. This word was absorbed into Latin as hirpex, denoting, with reference to the implement's teeth, a large rake. This entered Old French in the form herce, meaning 'harrow'. In English a hearse was originally a triangular frame similar in shape to an ancient harrow, designed to hold candles. From this it became an elaborate framework or canopy constructed over the coffin of an important person prior to their [sic] funeral. By the middle of the 17th century the word referred to a carriage built to carry a coffin, from which evolved the modern hearse, or funeral vehicle."
Okay, so that explains where we get "hearse." But what about "rehearse"? How does one get from a farming implement to a verb that means "to practice"?
Seems like an awfully big leap. But if you think about it, perhaps it's not such a leap after all. When one rehearses, what does he or she do but dig deeper into the thing being rehearsed--whether a musical work or a speech or a play--plowing it as one plows the earth to loosen the soil and make it more fertile than it otherwise would be. As I am continually trying to explain to my piano students, effective practicing (or rehearsing) is not merely superficial repetition of notes, but investigative study that goes beneath the surface to analyze the underlying patterns, structures, and form of the work.
Then of course, there's "harrowing" . . . but no, I think I'd better stop now. Otherwise we'll be here all night, jumping from one word to the next like one of those cowboys hopping between the roofs of train cars in a motion picture Western.
I just love the English language.
Thursday, October 18, 2007
St. Michael's Day Dig
Several weeks ago the Church celebrated the Feast of St. Michael and All Angels. On that day our family was blessed by a flesh and blood earthly band of angels who, armed not with harps and cymbals but with shovels and wheelbarrows, came to our assistance in a monumental way.
We have lived in our current home for almost eight years now. During that time, we have experienced flooding of our ground-level "rec room" (not basement) approximately two-three times per year. The water is not below ground or foundation seepage but above ground rainwater that will not drain from our lawn and upon reaching a certain level simply enters the house. We have come to realize that the problem pre-dated our purchase of this house, but due to the dishonesty of the previous owners as well as our own inexperience as buyers, we were not properly apprised of the situation.
Within several months of moving in we experienced a big, big rain--what in my home state of Texas we used to call a "gully-washer." It was one of those rains where you just sit and stare unbelieving out the window and count yourself blessed to be inside, warm and dry.
Or maybe just warm. I can still recall the horror of going down the three or four steps to the "rec room" (which was at that time functioning as my mother's bedroom) just in time to see a virtual wave of water come pouring under the baseboard along one of the outside walls. It wasn't a little trickle, but a flood, and within seconds the floor was covered in water, anywhere from 40-50 gallons of it.We cleaned it up. And over the years we have tried various measures to solve the problem. The dilemma is that everyone has a different theory about what ought to be done. We rejected the company that told us our house was like a boat and we needed to spend thousands of dollars making it watertight. Somehow, our gut told us that houses and boats are intrinsically two different things. Instead, we decided that it made more sense to get the water away from the house. So we extended and re-routed downspouts. Then we hired Perma-Seal to install a drain in the part of the yard that was not emptying properly. That seemed to help slightly. But each year we have experienced at least one big rain that was more than our boat--er, house--could take.
Since paying someone to fix this problem had not met with the desired level of success, we finally decided to tackle it on our own. So we talked to neighbors (turns out we are not the only ones around here with drainage issues), did some research, and enlisted the aid of caring friends. What follows is a photo-documentary of our "St. Michael's Day Dig."
We started at 7:00 a.m. But of course, first we fueled up for the day:
Then the digging began! You can see what a great team we had. (And this is not all of them--just the early birds.)
In the background of the photo above you can see our neighbor's house. Note also the slope of the land that allows water from their downspouts to flow toward our house. Go figure. This neighbor, concerned for our well-being, took part in the day's labour with all our other angels, thereby helping us to "improve and protect our possessions and income" (from Martin Luther's Small Catechism, Meaning of the 7th Commandment).
It wasn't long before we had to run to our neighborhood home improvement store for more supplies. I drove, and a couple of the younger members of the team did the heavy lifting.
Pictured below are two catch-basins strategically placed to catch accumulated rainwater. Attached to the catch-basins are perforated tubes that will carry the water underground to a disposal point.
Phil is working on a third catch-basin.
The photo below shows the perforated tubing in a bed of river rocks (for greater water capacity) atop landscape fabric that will eventually be wrapped around the entirety of the tubes (to keep soil out of the tubing). I understand that this is known as a French drain (or French trench).
The soil has been replaced, covering the tubes so that only the catch basins are visible. (Later grass will be laid.)
In addition to the three catch-basins we installed, there was a fourth one previously installed by the waterproofing company. All of them, as well as the neighbor's downspout, feed into an underground tube that runs around the corner from our back yard and down the side of our house between us and our neighbor. The tube previously emptied above ground, which is why we think we have had problems in the winter with it freezing. So one of our "angels" suggested digging a dry well at the end of the tube. This was not part of the original plan, but he offered to spearhead and oversee the effort, so we told him to go to it. The idea is to dig a deep hole that will direct the water below the clay level of the soil and closer to the water table. (The top level of our soil is high in clay, which is notoriously non-absorbent.)
The well is in progress, almost as deep as Evan is tall.
Big brother gets into the picture.
The photo shows the drainage tube covered with rock and leading to the dry well, which ultimately consisted of a perforated plastic trash can, also filled with rock, and covered with the trash can lid.
Time to cover it all up again!
The day ended at about 3:30, just in time for my husband to shower and play organ for Saturday night worship. Time will tell if we have finally solved this problem (I'll let you know next spring!). Until then, thank you to all of our digging angels: Fred, Paul, Rob, Patrick, Chris, Trevor, Dennis, Exaud, Keith, Brian, Walt, and of course, Phil. We are humbled and touched by your care and love.
We have lived in our current home for almost eight years now. During that time, we have experienced flooding of our ground-level "rec room" (not basement) approximately two-three times per year. The water is not below ground or foundation seepage but above ground rainwater that will not drain from our lawn and upon reaching a certain level simply enters the house. We have come to realize that the problem pre-dated our purchase of this house, but due to the dishonesty of the previous owners as well as our own inexperience as buyers, we were not properly apprised of the situation.
Within several months of moving in we experienced a big, big rain--what in my home state of Texas we used to call a "gully-washer." It was one of those rains where you just sit and stare unbelieving out the window and count yourself blessed to be inside, warm and dry.
Or maybe just warm. I can still recall the horror of going down the three or four steps to the "rec room" (which was at that time functioning as my mother's bedroom) just in time to see a virtual wave of water come pouring under the baseboard along one of the outside walls. It wasn't a little trickle, but a flood, and within seconds the floor was covered in water, anywhere from 40-50 gallons of it.We cleaned it up. And over the years we have tried various measures to solve the problem. The dilemma is that everyone has a different theory about what ought to be done. We rejected the company that told us our house was like a boat and we needed to spend thousands of dollars making it watertight. Somehow, our gut told us that houses and boats are intrinsically two different things. Instead, we decided that it made more sense to get the water away from the house. So we extended and re-routed downspouts. Then we hired Perma-Seal to install a drain in the part of the yard that was not emptying properly. That seemed to help slightly. But each year we have experienced at least one big rain that was more than our boat--er, house--could take.
Since paying someone to fix this problem had not met with the desired level of success, we finally decided to tackle it on our own. So we talked to neighbors (turns out we are not the only ones around here with drainage issues), did some research, and enlisted the aid of caring friends. What follows is a photo-documentary of our "St. Michael's Day Dig."
We started at 7:00 a.m. But of course, first we fueled up for the day:
Then the digging began! You can see what a great team we had. (And this is not all of them--just the early birds.)
In the background of the photo above you can see our neighbor's house. Note also the slope of the land that allows water from their downspouts to flow toward our house. Go figure. This neighbor, concerned for our well-being, took part in the day's labour with all our other angels, thereby helping us to "improve and protect our possessions and income" (from Martin Luther's Small Catechism, Meaning of the 7th Commandment).
It wasn't long before we had to run to our neighborhood home improvement store for more supplies. I drove, and a couple of the younger members of the team did the heavy lifting.
Pictured below are two catch-basins strategically placed to catch accumulated rainwater. Attached to the catch-basins are perforated tubes that will carry the water underground to a disposal point.
Phil is working on a third catch-basin.
The photo below shows the perforated tubing in a bed of river rocks (for greater water capacity) atop landscape fabric that will eventually be wrapped around the entirety of the tubes (to keep soil out of the tubing). I understand that this is known as a French drain (or French trench).
The soil has been replaced, covering the tubes so that only the catch basins are visible. (Later grass will be laid.)
In addition to the three catch-basins we installed, there was a fourth one previously installed by the waterproofing company. All of them, as well as the neighbor's downspout, feed into an underground tube that runs around the corner from our back yard and down the side of our house between us and our neighbor. The tube previously emptied above ground, which is why we think we have had problems in the winter with it freezing. So one of our "angels" suggested digging a dry well at the end of the tube. This was not part of the original plan, but he offered to spearhead and oversee the effort, so we told him to go to it. The idea is to dig a deep hole that will direct the water below the clay level of the soil and closer to the water table. (The top level of our soil is high in clay, which is notoriously non-absorbent.)
The well is in progress, almost as deep as Evan is tall.
Big brother gets into the picture.
The photo shows the drainage tube covered with rock and leading to the dry well, which ultimately consisted of a perforated plastic trash can, also filled with rock, and covered with the trash can lid.
Time to cover it all up again!
The day ended at about 3:30, just in time for my husband to shower and play organ for Saturday night worship. Time will tell if we have finally solved this problem (I'll let you know next spring!). Until then, thank you to all of our digging angels: Fred, Paul, Rob, Patrick, Chris, Trevor, Dennis, Exaud, Keith, Brian, Walt, and of course, Phil. We are humbled and touched by your care and love.
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
Triple Tagged!
This one is called "Seven True Things About Me" and it seems suspiciously similar to the "Eight Things You Might Not Know About Me" meme of a few months back, but hey, who am I to argue? Especially since ElephantsChild finally got her act together and responded to one of these in a timely fashion and since not only did she tag me but so did Mumme Mom and Uvulapie's Girl. (I have never felt so popular!)
So here goes . . .
1) I have a serious sweet tooth, but I just don't get rhubarb pie.
2) I also have issues with brussel sprouts and prunes. One of my elementary school teachers made me eat a prune at lunch one day (do elementary schools even serve such things at lunch anymore?), and unable to swallow the thing I had to retreat to the restroom and spit it out in the trash can. This was obviously a formative experience of catastrophic proportions for me, seeing as how I remember it like it was yesterday.
3) I did not have the best childhood but now have a husband and children that have far surpassed my dearest hopes for family life. After the faith granted to me in baptism and the salvation given upon the cross, they are my greatest blessings.
4) I am too inclined to let daily life drag me down to the point that I forget to be thankful for #3. Please forgive me, dear Father in Heaven.
5) I just became a Crunchy Crustacean in the TTLB ecosystem. I like the sound of that better than Wiggly Worm (which is what I used to be), but I'd much rather be a Flippery Fish like Barb the Evil Genius or maybe even a Flappy Bird--do I even know any Flappy Birds? I know I'll never approach Large Mammal status like my superstar blogging buddy Lora. But one can dream.
6) I am by nature a neat and organized person (one of those oddballs who always kept a clean bedroom growing up), but I am by necessity learning to relax somewhat about cleanliness. There are more important things in life than a clean house. And life goes by way too fast.
7) I am not very domestic and don't quite get the passion (although I completely respect and admire it) that some people have for cooking and sewing and other such home-enhancing activities. If I had more time in my life, I would probably spend it selfishly reading or writing or playing the piano or exercising rather than making my family's life better. Sorry, family. I guess I'm basically a selfish person. But please see #3 above.
The wrap-up to this thing is that I'm supposed to tag 7 other people. So AmusedMomma, Kathy, Kristi, Lisa, Pamela, BelleArtMom, Chris, Susan K., Caitlin, and Barbara, it's your turn! (I know, that's 10, not 7--I guess I just feel like sharing the joy. And in light of #5 above, links back are appreciated!)
So here goes . . .
1) I have a serious sweet tooth, but I just don't get rhubarb pie.
2) I also have issues with brussel sprouts and prunes. One of my elementary school teachers made me eat a prune at lunch one day (do elementary schools even serve such things at lunch anymore?), and unable to swallow the thing I had to retreat to the restroom and spit it out in the trash can. This was obviously a formative experience of catastrophic proportions for me, seeing as how I remember it like it was yesterday.
3) I did not have the best childhood but now have a husband and children that have far surpassed my dearest hopes for family life. After the faith granted to me in baptism and the salvation given upon the cross, they are my greatest blessings.
4) I am too inclined to let daily life drag me down to the point that I forget to be thankful for #3. Please forgive me, dear Father in Heaven.
5) I just became a Crunchy Crustacean in the TTLB ecosystem. I like the sound of that better than Wiggly Worm (which is what I used to be), but I'd much rather be a Flippery Fish like Barb the Evil Genius or maybe even a Flappy Bird--do I even know any Flappy Birds? I know I'll never approach Large Mammal status like my superstar blogging buddy Lora. But one can dream.
6) I am by nature a neat and organized person (one of those oddballs who always kept a clean bedroom growing up), but I am by necessity learning to relax somewhat about cleanliness. There are more important things in life than a clean house. And life goes by way too fast.
7) I am not very domestic and don't quite get the passion (although I completely respect and admire it) that some people have for cooking and sewing and other such home-enhancing activities. If I had more time in my life, I would probably spend it selfishly reading or writing or playing the piano or exercising rather than making my family's life better. Sorry, family. I guess I'm basically a selfish person. But please see #3 above.
The wrap-up to this thing is that I'm supposed to tag 7 other people. So AmusedMomma, Kathy, Kristi, Lisa, Pamela, BelleArtMom, Chris, Susan K., Caitlin, and Barbara, it's your turn! (I know, that's 10, not 7--I guess I just feel like sharing the joy. And in light of #5 above, links back are appreciated!)
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
Another Thinking Blogger
Not long ago I ran across a blog that I found sufficiently intriguing to inspire repeated visits (and a spot on my list of links). Like me, the author is a wife, mother, conservative, and Christian, and those vocations are reflected in her posts, which cover a broad range of topics with particular emphasis on the political. She is also a fine writer whose viewpoints are not always strictly in line with typical conservative Christian opinion (if there is such a thing).
Here are links to two recent posts reflecting a level of reflection and independence of thought that I find worthy of consideration:
The Anchoress on Ann Coulter
The Anchoress on Christians and the Third Party Gambit
For a rollicking good laugh, you might also want to follow the links in her October 16th post to some real-life college essays as well as a mother's firsthand account of explaining the facts of life to her son (spew alert!).
Here are links to two recent posts reflecting a level of reflection and independence of thought that I find worthy of consideration:
The Anchoress on Ann Coulter
The Anchoress on Christians and the Third Party Gambit
For a rollicking good laugh, you might also want to follow the links in her October 16th post to some real-life college essays as well as a mother's firsthand account of explaining the facts of life to her son (spew alert!).
Monday, October 15, 2007
A Good Ending
As mentioned in the previous post, my son played in a chess tournament this weekened, one which I entirely missed out on because I had another very important engagement. This was his first time to play as an Expert (he has played other Experts before but has not officially competed since becoming one himself).
He had a fine weekend, finishing with 2-1/2 points (two wins, two losses, and one draw) in a very tough section. He also gained three rating points, moving from a 2000 to a 2003 rating and thereby creating just a little more breathing room for hanging on to that Expert status.
Since I was out of town and my husband was handling the tournament logistics by himself (along with caring for our youngest child and managing the normal weekend responsibilities), it was necessary for Trevor to be dropped off at the tournament and left to chaperone himself for certain periods of time. Considering his age and tournament experience plus the fact that he was competing at a familiar and secure location, we felt fine doing this after giving him clear guidelines about where he could and couldn't go.
But what also helped greatly was that community I wrote about in the previous post--the knowledge that the tournament site was crawling with people we know, particularly parents whom we specifically asked to look out for Trevor while he was on his own.
How ironic, then, that in Trevor's last "board" he found himself sitting across the table from one of those very good chess friends--a young man he always enjoys seeing and playing, both in formal competition and in "skittles" (casual play just for fun), and whose parents have long been a source of encouragement and wisdom to us in our own chess adventure. Trevor and Eric have had parallel chess "careers" for many years now, a parallelism that I dare say will remain for years to come as we continue watching the two of them grow both in their chess and their lives.
Thus it is fitting that in this final game of the tournament, played against a friend (and--I must add--formidable opponent), the outcome was a draw.
Congratulations to both players on an excellent performance, and thanks to ChessDad and his lovely wife for being our son's second parents this weekend. We look forward to seeing you all again very soon (maybe next month?).
Because I wasn't around to take pictures, and Trevor's dad is not the "shutterbug" I am, I can't provide any tournament photos. But here's one from the archives, showing one of the numerous times these two young men have found themselves having to face each other in competition (this particular photo was taken at the Illinois State Scholastic Championship a few years ago):
I think I will have plenty more opportunities to take photos like this one.
He had a fine weekend, finishing with 2-1/2 points (two wins, two losses, and one draw) in a very tough section. He also gained three rating points, moving from a 2000 to a 2003 rating and thereby creating just a little more breathing room for hanging on to that Expert status.
Since I was out of town and my husband was handling the tournament logistics by himself (along with caring for our youngest child and managing the normal weekend responsibilities), it was necessary for Trevor to be dropped off at the tournament and left to chaperone himself for certain periods of time. Considering his age and tournament experience plus the fact that he was competing at a familiar and secure location, we felt fine doing this after giving him clear guidelines about where he could and couldn't go.
But what also helped greatly was that community I wrote about in the previous post--the knowledge that the tournament site was crawling with people we know, particularly parents whom we specifically asked to look out for Trevor while he was on his own.
How ironic, then, that in Trevor's last "board" he found himself sitting across the table from one of those very good chess friends--a young man he always enjoys seeing and playing, both in formal competition and in "skittles" (casual play just for fun), and whose parents have long been a source of encouragement and wisdom to us in our own chess adventure. Trevor and Eric have had parallel chess "careers" for many years now, a parallelism that I dare say will remain for years to come as we continue watching the two of them grow both in their chess and their lives.
Thus it is fitting that in this final game of the tournament, played against a friend (and--I must add--formidable opponent), the outcome was a draw.
Congratulations to both players on an excellent performance, and thanks to ChessDad and his lovely wife for being our son's second parents this weekend. We look forward to seeing you all again very soon (maybe next month?).
Because I wasn't around to take pictures, and Trevor's dad is not the "shutterbug" I am, I can't provide any tournament photos. But here's one from the archives, showing one of the numerous times these two young men have found themselves having to face each other in competition (this particular photo was taken at the Illinois State Scholastic Championship a few years ago):
I think I will have plenty more opportunities to take photos like this one.
Sunday, October 14, 2007
Community
Our family spent the weekend separated along gender lines. My daughter and I went to the Rockford area to spend time with several other homeschooling Lutheran moms and daughters, while my husband stayed home with my two sons and supervised the older one's participation in a weekend-long chess tournament.
It's interesting that these two events coincided because as I reflect on the weekend it occurs to me that although the members of my family were engaged in different activities, we were in one respect doing the same thing: seeking community where it is to be found.
We hear a lot these days about the importance of diversity--of being exposed to those who are different from ourselves. And I would agree there is great value in that. Not only can we learn from those of different cultures and interests and backgrounds, but understanding those differences often leads to a deeper appreciation for our own identity.
Yet I think it is a natural human impulse to seek out others like us, who share our interests, passions, values and beliefs. When we are among people with whom we share common ground, we are encouraged by the sense of community that we find there. So when my husband or I takes my son to a chess tournament, and we have the opportunity to visit with other parents who are paying for chess lessons, shuttling their children to and from tournaments, and watching those children undergo the intense pressures of competition, we are built up in our vocation of chess parents. And when our son is able to spend time with his fellow chess players and friends, playing games against real flesh and blood people instead of online opponents, and talking the special language that only they fully understand, he is encouraged in his vocation of player and student.
And when my daughter and I are able to go away together, and spend time not merely with other moms and daughters but with moms and daughters who home school and who share the same confessional Lutheran faith that we profess, we are nourished in our vocations of mother, daughter, teacher, student, Lutheran, and Christian.
Sometimes it is good to be challenged--to step out of our comfort zones and experience new things. Doing so can be exciting, energizing, inspiring, and motivating.
But it is also good to feel oneself surrounded by people who understand you because they have "been there" and done the precise thing you are doing. There is no need to explain or defend or promote because they simply "get it." The freedom and relaxation that are to be had in such an environment are valuable indeed.
So to all of you who "get it"--in one way or another--thanks for being our extended family this weekend!
It's interesting that these two events coincided because as I reflect on the weekend it occurs to me that although the members of my family were engaged in different activities, we were in one respect doing the same thing: seeking community where it is to be found.
We hear a lot these days about the importance of diversity--of being exposed to those who are different from ourselves. And I would agree there is great value in that. Not only can we learn from those of different cultures and interests and backgrounds, but understanding those differences often leads to a deeper appreciation for our own identity.
Yet I think it is a natural human impulse to seek out others like us, who share our interests, passions, values and beliefs. When we are among people with whom we share common ground, we are encouraged by the sense of community that we find there. So when my husband or I takes my son to a chess tournament, and we have the opportunity to visit with other parents who are paying for chess lessons, shuttling their children to and from tournaments, and watching those children undergo the intense pressures of competition, we are built up in our vocation of chess parents. And when our son is able to spend time with his fellow chess players and friends, playing games against real flesh and blood people instead of online opponents, and talking the special language that only they fully understand, he is encouraged in his vocation of player and student.
And when my daughter and I are able to go away together, and spend time not merely with other moms and daughters but with moms and daughters who home school and who share the same confessional Lutheran faith that we profess, we are nourished in our vocations of mother, daughter, teacher, student, Lutheran, and Christian.
Sometimes it is good to be challenged--to step out of our comfort zones and experience new things. Doing so can be exciting, energizing, inspiring, and motivating.
But it is also good to feel oneself surrounded by people who understand you because they have "been there" and done the precise thing you are doing. There is no need to explain or defend or promote because they simply "get it." The freedom and relaxation that are to be had in such an environment are valuable indeed.
So to all of you who "get it"--in one way or another--thanks for being our extended family this weekend!
Friday, October 12, 2007
Happy Birthday, Caitlin
Last week I wrote about the day my first baby was born. Twelve years ago today I took my inaugural look at number two.
Although it was almost two weeks past her due date, she was in no hurry to make her entrance into the world, having apparently grown fond of the ready food supply and warmth of her Mommy's tummy. But that Mommy was not so patient, nor was her doctor, who had concerns about the continued growth of an already good-sized baby.
So on a mild Wednesday evening in mid-October of 1995, my husband and I climbed into our little blue Honda Civic, waved at the soon-to-be big brother and his grandma standing in the front door of our house, and reported to the hospital for an induction. Labor set in and quickly progressed, making for a long and sleepless night (for some of us at least--I have a feeling our evening arrival at the hospital was designed to give the doctor a good night's sleep and a convenient morning delivery). Then at 6:33 a.m. on October 12, 1995, I was handed what would turn out to be my biggest baby, weighing in just short of 10 pounds at 9 pounds, 12 ounces.
We named her Caitlin Marie. I must admit a touch of surprise when I first beheld my baby girl. She had so much hair! And how dark it was! Soon that straight, almost black hair would turn in to strawberry-blonde curls that would remain for many years, until the sheer length and weight of them finally gave way to waves.
Sandwiched between one big and one little brother, Caitlin is not only the middle child but is also my only girl. Perhaps, then, that is why when I look at her I see so much of myself. Indeed, we have much in common, sharing not only physical attributes but also our love for literature, music, and writing. We are also both known in our household for being just a tiny bit emotional and prone to tears, but hey, what else is to be expected from such highly sensitive and poetic temperaments?
Yet my little girl is so much more than a "mini-me." She is entirely her own person, someone I look at with admiration and awe. Where I am careful, she is adventurous; where I am "by the book," she is creative and experimental; where I am task-oriented, she is welcoming of distractions, wisely seeing that sometimes the best of life is to be found in the distractions.
Caitlin was baptized in the name of the Triune God on November 12, 1995. Since then, I have watched that little baby who kept me up all night growing into a young woman who still likes to stay up late, driven by a creative spirit that doesn't want to quit just because the sun has gone down and the clock says it's bedtime. Sometimes in the morning as she wraps the blanket around her and rolls over for just a few more minutes of slumber, she reminds me of the baby girl who wanted to stay snug inside my tummy instead of getting born. And then, when she finally crawls out of bed and greets me with a hug and smile, I pinch myself to think that God saw fit to send her to me--my little girl, who is now one of my best friends.
Happy birthday, Caitlin, with all my love. When I grow up, I want to be just like you.
Sunday, October 7, 2007
Teaching Writing
My kids are good writers (at least the oldest two are--it's still a bit soon to tell about the 3-year-old). One of them knows it; the other one still needs a little convincing. But the fact is that when they have something to say they are generally able to clearly and effectively put it down on paper.
The irony is that their mother--who has a degree in English and many years of classroom experience--did not teach them how to do this. In fact, the truth is that I have not had them do much formal writing at all. They write letters to family, and thank you notes, and one of them enjoys writing stories and poems, but we have done very little grammar or spelling instruction and spent almost no time on the writing "process" (the idea that there is a foolproof "step-by-step" plan that can guarantee writing success). Yet on the occasions that I have assigned a report or essay I have been quite pleased with the caliber of writing submitted.
So I can't help but wonder, when and how did my children learn to write? It is a question I have considered more than once over the years, with regard not only to them but also to myself, because for as long as I can remember I have been a pretty decent writer, but I can't for the life of me tell you how or when I learned to do it. In fact, I remember feeling bored and frustrated with all the grammar and writing instruction I had to sit through in school and wishing I could just get on with the assignment. And now that my own children seem to be fairly fluent writers I have questioned the need to bother teaching them rules of grammar and diagramming and such: I mean, do you really need to know what a dangling modifier is if you never write one? (I know, it's a scandalous thing for a writing teacher to say.)
The more I have thought about it, the more convinced I have become that the secret to being a good writer is twofold. First, be a reader. When one spends days and months and years immersed in good writing, one develops an ear for the language and how to use it. This is one of the great benefits of starting to read to children early and continuing to do so even as they become teenagers: they encounter good writing not only with their eyes but also with their ears (something that is otherwise not a given since so much of everyday conversation is rather haphazard and fragmented).*
The second "secret" to good writing is to have something worthwhile to say. When one has things to communicate that one cares about, there is an effort made to find the best combination of words to get the ideas across. I think a lot of the bad writing that children do in school is largely the result of an attitude that is mostly interested in completing an assignment, not truly being understood. And who can blame them? When the focus is the process ("Class, today we're going to write a comparison/contrast paper") rather than the content, writing becomes an exercise or a chore instead of a means of sharing ideas. People love to communicate--to be heard and understood--and children are no different. For evidence we need look no further than the explosion of email and instant messaging and blogging over the last 10 years. And when someone wants to be heard, and he cares about his message, he is willing to put forth time and effort crafting that message.
Last night as I was musing on all of this with my husband, he came up with what I found to be a striking musical analogy (he, like I, is a musician). He said he remembers as a young jazz pianist being preoccupied with the "changes," meaning the chord progressions of songs, and spending a great deal of time analyzing and memorizing them as he tried to come up with "licks" (melodic patterns) that would fit various chords. He was approaching the musical challenge before him in a decidedly mathematical way, focusing on the theory and the underlying structure.
There's a place for that kind of study, in both music and writing. But I think sometimes we make it the focus of our approach rather than a supportive element. My husband says he also remembers teachers and musicians he respected advising him to just "learn the tunes"; in other words, to go and listen to a lot of jazz music and to become musically literate in the genre in the way that a well-read person is culturally literate. Doing so would increase his musical vocabulary and sharpen his ear, allowing him to become a better musician in an organic rather than purely studied way.
I think another analogy can be made in the way teachers are trained these days. Instead of being allowed to focus primarily on their subject matter, they are made to take all kinds of classes in educational theory and method and practice. This time spent learning "how" to teach is time that could have been spent learning more about what they are going to teach.
People today want easy answers. They want "how-to" outlines and plans for success in all kinds of things (just look at the popularity of self-help literature and the "Idiots" and "Dummies" series of books). In school, students and their parents want to know what's going to be on the test so they can study up on the necessary points to get a good grade. And writing teachers and students want to be able to point to a system that will guarantee a successful paper.
But I would argue that when we take a "just the facts, ma'am" approach to the teaching of writing we are actually working against ourselves, making the task harder than it needs to be by trying to come up with a one-size-fits-all plan (and in the process killing a lot of the natural curiosity of the learner). Instead, a more successful approach (in our house, at least) is to read, and read, and read some more. And when the reading results in a question being asked, or the need for some analysis or summary, you have yourself an essay prompt, one that has grown naturally out of the educational environment and that has some motivational power behind it. And once that essay is written, time can be spent refining and polishing it so that it carries its message as effectively as possible--a task that is infinitely more interesting than completing a list of ten or twenty sentences in a grammar workbook.
(*A Beka educational publishers offers a book called Oral Language Exercises that utilizes the concept that people need to hear proper English in order to internalize it. The book contains lists of sentences that follow certain patterns and that are to be read orally so as to develop in the student an "ear" for proper usage. It's not a bad idea, but I would much prefer to read a good story out loud to my kids than to inflict a bunch of boring sentences on them, and I think the reading aloud over time accomplishes the same thing.)
The irony is that their mother--who has a degree in English and many years of classroom experience--did not teach them how to do this. In fact, the truth is that I have not had them do much formal writing at all. They write letters to family, and thank you notes, and one of them enjoys writing stories and poems, but we have done very little grammar or spelling instruction and spent almost no time on the writing "process" (the idea that there is a foolproof "step-by-step" plan that can guarantee writing success). Yet on the occasions that I have assigned a report or essay I have been quite pleased with the caliber of writing submitted.
So I can't help but wonder, when and how did my children learn to write? It is a question I have considered more than once over the years, with regard not only to them but also to myself, because for as long as I can remember I have been a pretty decent writer, but I can't for the life of me tell you how or when I learned to do it. In fact, I remember feeling bored and frustrated with all the grammar and writing instruction I had to sit through in school and wishing I could just get on with the assignment. And now that my own children seem to be fairly fluent writers I have questioned the need to bother teaching them rules of grammar and diagramming and such: I mean, do you really need to know what a dangling modifier is if you never write one? (I know, it's a scandalous thing for a writing teacher to say.)
The more I have thought about it, the more convinced I have become that the secret to being a good writer is twofold. First, be a reader. When one spends days and months and years immersed in good writing, one develops an ear for the language and how to use it. This is one of the great benefits of starting to read to children early and continuing to do so even as they become teenagers: they encounter good writing not only with their eyes but also with their ears (something that is otherwise not a given since so much of everyday conversation is rather haphazard and fragmented).*
The second "secret" to good writing is to have something worthwhile to say. When one has things to communicate that one cares about, there is an effort made to find the best combination of words to get the ideas across. I think a lot of the bad writing that children do in school is largely the result of an attitude that is mostly interested in completing an assignment, not truly being understood. And who can blame them? When the focus is the process ("Class, today we're going to write a comparison/contrast paper") rather than the content, writing becomes an exercise or a chore instead of a means of sharing ideas. People love to communicate--to be heard and understood--and children are no different. For evidence we need look no further than the explosion of email and instant messaging and blogging over the last 10 years. And when someone wants to be heard, and he cares about his message, he is willing to put forth time and effort crafting that message.
Last night as I was musing on all of this with my husband, he came up with what I found to be a striking musical analogy (he, like I, is a musician). He said he remembers as a young jazz pianist being preoccupied with the "changes," meaning the chord progressions of songs, and spending a great deal of time analyzing and memorizing them as he tried to come up with "licks" (melodic patterns) that would fit various chords. He was approaching the musical challenge before him in a decidedly mathematical way, focusing on the theory and the underlying structure.
There's a place for that kind of study, in both music and writing. But I think sometimes we make it the focus of our approach rather than a supportive element. My husband says he also remembers teachers and musicians he respected advising him to just "learn the tunes"; in other words, to go and listen to a lot of jazz music and to become musically literate in the genre in the way that a well-read person is culturally literate. Doing so would increase his musical vocabulary and sharpen his ear, allowing him to become a better musician in an organic rather than purely studied way.
I think another analogy can be made in the way teachers are trained these days. Instead of being allowed to focus primarily on their subject matter, they are made to take all kinds of classes in educational theory and method and practice. This time spent learning "how" to teach is time that could have been spent learning more about what they are going to teach.
People today want easy answers. They want "how-to" outlines and plans for success in all kinds of things (just look at the popularity of self-help literature and the "Idiots" and "Dummies" series of books). In school, students and their parents want to know what's going to be on the test so they can study up on the necessary points to get a good grade. And writing teachers and students want to be able to point to a system that will guarantee a successful paper.
But I would argue that when we take a "just the facts, ma'am" approach to the teaching of writing we are actually working against ourselves, making the task harder than it needs to be by trying to come up with a one-size-fits-all plan (and in the process killing a lot of the natural curiosity of the learner). Instead, a more successful approach (in our house, at least) is to read, and read, and read some more. And when the reading results in a question being asked, or the need for some analysis or summary, you have yourself an essay prompt, one that has grown naturally out of the educational environment and that has some motivational power behind it. And once that essay is written, time can be spent refining and polishing it so that it carries its message as effectively as possible--a task that is infinitely more interesting than completing a list of ten or twenty sentences in a grammar workbook.
(*A Beka educational publishers offers a book called Oral Language Exercises that utilizes the concept that people need to hear proper English in order to internalize it. The book contains lists of sentences that follow certain patterns and that are to be read orally so as to develop in the student an "ear" for proper usage. It's not a bad idea, but I would much prefer to read a good story out loud to my kids than to inflict a bunch of boring sentences on them, and I think the reading aloud over time accomplishes the same thing.)
Silly Church Signs
I think I need to start keeping a list of silly church signs. I saw another one yesterday with the following message:
"Faith is a journey, not a destination."
Where do these things come from? "Vapid Church Slogans Unlimited"?
Sorry, I guess I'm being snarky. But if you don't mind my saying, faith is neither a journey nor a destination. It is a gift, the starting point from which the Christian life flows. To describe it as either a goal or a process is to essentially misunderstand it.
Maybe what this church is trying to say is that the Christian life is a journey. I could accept that. And as an English teacher, I sympathize with the challenge of putting words together effectively, especially when you are working within very tight parameters.
But maybe instead of trying to come up with pithy statements, it would make more sense to quote a line of scripture. Our God does have a way with words.
"For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith--and this not from yourselves, it is the gift of God--not by works, so that no one can boast." (Eph. 2: 8-9)
"Faith is a journey, not a destination."
Where do these things come from? "Vapid Church Slogans Unlimited"?
Sorry, I guess I'm being snarky. But if you don't mind my saying, faith is neither a journey nor a destination. It is a gift, the starting point from which the Christian life flows. To describe it as either a goal or a process is to essentially misunderstand it.
Maybe what this church is trying to say is that the Christian life is a journey. I could accept that. And as an English teacher, I sympathize with the challenge of putting words together effectively, especially when you are working within very tight parameters.
But maybe instead of trying to come up with pithy statements, it would make more sense to quote a line of scripture. Our God does have a way with words.
"For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith--and this not from yourselves, it is the gift of God--not by works, so that no one can boast." (Eph. 2: 8-9)
Saturday, October 6, 2007
Doves
Ever since my mother's car accident almost two months ago, I have been taking care of her pet doves. I have never had birds before nor have I ever wanted to. Sure, they're pretty, and sometimes they make a nice cooing sound, but you can't hold or cuddle or walk them, and they don't greet you at the door or come when you call, nor do they fetch things or do tricks or lick you affectionately or give you a big goofy smile with their tongue hanging out the side of their mouth. And boy, can they make a mess. So all in all, birds have just always struck me as being a lot more trouble than they are worth, essentially decorations instead of pets, and not nearly as much fun.
So why, then, do I find myself baby-talking these doves when I take the sheet off their cage in the morning? And why did I buy them a little extra birdie treat on our last visit to the pet store? And why do I find it endearing when they come to the bars of the cage and look out expectantly at "dinner time"? And why did it put such a big smile on my face when one of them jumped on my arm the last time I put my hands in the cage to tend to them?
My mom has been talking about how she thinks she is simply not up to caring for birds anymore, even once she has returned home. I hope she changes her mind, because I think they have been and will continue to be good for her. But if she doesn't, I would like to state for the record that I am not keeping these birds.
I'll say it again: I am not keeping these birds. Please feel free to remind me of this post in the future.
To see a picture and learn more about diamond doves, click here.
So why, then, do I find myself baby-talking these doves when I take the sheet off their cage in the morning? And why did I buy them a little extra birdie treat on our last visit to the pet store? And why do I find it endearing when they come to the bars of the cage and look out expectantly at "dinner time"? And why did it put such a big smile on my face when one of them jumped on my arm the last time I put my hands in the cage to tend to them?
My mom has been talking about how she thinks she is simply not up to caring for birds anymore, even once she has returned home. I hope she changes her mind, because I think they have been and will continue to be good for her. But if she doesn't, I would like to state for the record that I am not keeping these birds.
I'll say it again: I am not keeping these birds. Please feel free to remind me of this post in the future.
To see a picture and learn more about diamond doves, click here.
Thursday, October 4, 2007
Birthday Pictures
Thought I would share a few pics from the birthday celebration yesterday. The day began with literature class, which we wrapped up early to allow for some free time with friends. After the students departed, we had a small family affair--chili for lunch, followed by present opening, followed by cake (and some brownies for the chocolate lovers). Trevor was gifted with a 4x4 Rubik's cube, a new video game, several works of fiction, including Ender's Game (thanks for the suggestion, ElephantsChild!), a couple of new People's Bible Commentaries to add to his growing library, and some cash from grandparents. As you can see, it was nearly impossible to get a photo of Trevor without his little brother!
This last photo is courtesy of Little Sis, who is looking forward to her own birthday next week. I think I'll appoint her my official photographer--a little blurriness goes a long way towards softening those wrinkles!
By the way, Trevor, did you notice that your birthday greeting had the distinction of being my 100th blog post? :-)
This last photo is courtesy of Little Sis, who is looking forward to her own birthday next week. I think I'll appoint her my official photographer--a little blurriness goes a long way towards softening those wrinkles!
By the way, Trevor, did you notice that your birthday greeting had the distinction of being my 100th blog post? :-)
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
Happy Birthday, Trevor
Fifteen years ago today I had a baby. He was my first one.
It was a Saturday morning, and I had been experiencing increasing discomfort since Wednesday night, but I was still not sure if I was in labor, having not experienced a definitive moment of doubling over pain. I didn't want to be one of those ladies who shows up at the hospital, gets a polite but patronizing smile, and is sent home to wait for the real labor to start. So although my husband had been suggesting a trip to the hospital for some time, I kept saying, "No, let's just wait a little longer."
Finally, seeing my increasing distress, my husband insisted that whether I liked it or not we were going to the hospital. But because we had not had lunch and were both hungry, we stopped on the way for frozen yogurt. By this time I was starting to think that maybe I was experiencing the real thing after all, since as we were walking to the yogurt shop from the parking lot the discomfort was such that I had to stop temporarily.
When we arrived at the hospital the nurse took one look at me and said "You're not going anywhere, honey--you're dilated to five!"
At 10:43 p.m. that night I had a 9-pound, 7-ounce baby boy with blue eyes and bright red hair. His Daddy was there beside me and cut the umbilical cord. Then, since we had also not had supper that day, we celebrated by ordering pizza.
That baby boy is turning 15 years old today. As I look at the man he is becoming, I am filled with wonder that the Lord has entrusted him into my care. He is as handsome as they come, and his accomplishments are prodigious, excelling as he does at chess, piano, voice, and academics.
But what gives me even greater joy is the knowledge that on November 1, 1992, he was baptized into the Lord's family and that he continues to embrace the faith that was given to him on that day. And that faith is shown forth in his life, as he is one of the most upright of character, kind-hearted, gentle and wise souls I have ever known.
Happy birthday, Trevor. I am blessed to be your mother, and I love you with all my heart.
Tuesday, October 2, 2007
More on Fred
Last week I did some musing about the Republican primary race, particularly the candidacy of Fred Thompson, and linked to two opinion columns highlighting various doubts about whether he can mount a successful presidential run.
Several days ago I came across another analysis with a very different point of view. The writer strongly believes that Thompson will win not only the Republican nomination but also the White House. A confident Republican? Yeah, it got my attention, too. To read more, click here.
Several days ago I came across another analysis with a very different point of view. The writer strongly believes that Thompson will win not only the Republican nomination but also the White House. A confident Republican? Yeah, it got my attention, too. To read more, click here.
Monday, October 1, 2007
He's Not Running
Click here to read the Fox News story on Newt Gingrich's announcement two days ago that he will not be seeking the Republican nomination for president. Apparently he discovered that to even explore a candidacy while heading up the non-profit organization American Solutions had the potential for violating campaign finance law. Unwilling to leave his new project so soon after its inception, he has ruled out running for president at this time.
On the one hand, I have a lot of respect for someone who says "I made a commitment to this vision and I'm not going to toss it aside just because of the possibility of catching an even bigger fish." There is no guarantee that a presidential run would have been successful, whereas American Solutions seems to be a movement with a future. On the other hand, I have to say I find it surprising that a guy as smart as Gingrich would not have researched the law well enough before now (or had his lawyers do so) to know what was at stake. But maybe that's just a testament to the complexity of McCain-Feingold: even Gingrich didn't fully understand it.
I for one am disappointed. I was looking forward to a Gingrich run, for reasons previously outlined. Now it looks like I have to give up on that possibility and accept that the Republican dance card is pretty much filled and that it's time for me to start getting to know all of these candidates a bit better so that I can make an informed decision next year.
I just wish my card had one more name on it.
On the one hand, I have a lot of respect for someone who says "I made a commitment to this vision and I'm not going to toss it aside just because of the possibility of catching an even bigger fish." There is no guarantee that a presidential run would have been successful, whereas American Solutions seems to be a movement with a future. On the other hand, I have to say I find it surprising that a guy as smart as Gingrich would not have researched the law well enough before now (or had his lawyers do so) to know what was at stake. But maybe that's just a testament to the complexity of McCain-Feingold: even Gingrich didn't fully understand it.
I for one am disappointed. I was looking forward to a Gingrich run, for reasons previously outlined. Now it looks like I have to give up on that possibility and accept that the Republican dance card is pretty much filled and that it's time for me to start getting to know all of these candidates a bit better so that I can make an informed decision next year.
I just wish my card had one more name on it.
Friday, September 28, 2007
Lost and Found
We attend (and my husband is Cantor at) a Lutheran church with a day school (preschool through eighth grade). Over the course of any given year, various items accumulate in the church and school's "Lost and Found" box: shoes, coats, jackets, snowsuits, hats, scarves, gym clothes, etc. Right now there are still many unclaimed pieces of clothing remaining from last school year, so in an effort to identify the rightful owners they have been placed in a central location near the entrance of our church building with a sign stating that if they are not claimed by next week they will be donated to charity.
As I glanced through the accumulated items after choir practice last night, several thoughts came to mind. First, although most of them are sized for children or youth, there are also a few things in adult sizes, so it is not just the kids who are losing or misplacing their belongings. Second, the quality of many of the items is such that I can't believe they have been left unclaimed. Quite a few of them are brand names that due to price we would not even be able to consider purchasing. Moreover, in our house the loss of a coat or jacket would be a huge issue: each child has one light fall jacket and one heavy winter coat, and we try to buy them big enough to last several years. If one were lost, there would be an exhaustive search to find it, which if unsuccessful would likely lead to the owner's relinquishing allowance money until a new coat was paid for.
Our kids know this and as a result do a pretty good of keeping track of their things. I guess one benefit to having only one coat or two pairs of shoes or three pairs of jeans is that when something is missing you notice it right away!
As I glanced through the accumulated items after choir practice last night, several thoughts came to mind. First, although most of them are sized for children or youth, there are also a few things in adult sizes, so it is not just the kids who are losing or misplacing their belongings. Second, the quality of many of the items is such that I can't believe they have been left unclaimed. Quite a few of them are brand names that due to price we would not even be able to consider purchasing. Moreover, in our house the loss of a coat or jacket would be a huge issue: each child has one light fall jacket and one heavy winter coat, and we try to buy them big enough to last several years. If one were lost, there would be an exhaustive search to find it, which if unsuccessful would likely lead to the owner's relinquishing allowance money until a new coat was paid for.
Our kids know this and as a result do a pretty good of keeping track of their things. I guess one benefit to having only one coat or two pairs of shoes or three pairs of jeans is that when something is missing you notice it right away!
Get In, Newt!
My husband, who is as cutting edge an individual I know when it comes to political news and current events, received this piece of information in his inbox yesterday:
"Former Speaker of the House Newt Gingrich (R-Ga.) may have concluded that Thompson is a flop, thus spurring him towards a run. Gingrich had made it clear he would not run if Thompson appeared a viable late entry. Now, Gingrich has indicated he wants to jump in if he can secure a pledge of $30 million." (Source: Evans-Novak Political Report, Volume 42, No. 20A, September 26, 2007)
I find this to be very good news and will be watching with interest to see what happens next. From what I know of him Gingrich is a true conservative who is nevertheless able to "think outside the box" and who is not afraid to speak the truth. I hope he decides to run and I may very well support him if he does. He is so smart that I think his mere presence on the debate stage would make all the candidates think (and work) a little harder!
Newt's own website has some additional musings on the topic of a presidential run here and here.
"Former Speaker of the House Newt Gingrich (R-Ga.) may have concluded that Thompson is a flop, thus spurring him towards a run. Gingrich had made it clear he would not run if Thompson appeared a viable late entry. Now, Gingrich has indicated he wants to jump in if he can secure a pledge of $30 million." (Source: Evans-Novak Political Report, Volume 42, No. 20A, September 26, 2007)
I find this to be very good news and will be watching with interest to see what happens next. From what I know of him Gingrich is a true conservative who is nevertheless able to "think outside the box" and who is not afraid to speak the truth. I hope he decides to run and I may very well support him if he does. He is so smart that I think his mere presence on the debate stage would make all the candidates think (and work) a little harder!
Newt's own website has some additional musings on the topic of a presidential run here and here.
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Our Father
Lately it seems that the suffering of people I care about has increased substantially. I'm not sure if my perception is correct or if it is just that--a perception. Our fallen world being what it is, I know that suffering is a given and will be until Jesus returns to take His children home. Perhaps, then, I am simply becoming more sensitive to the struggles of others, but I doubt it. I think I'm just as self-centered as ever.
So why does life seem harder these days? And why do my friends and loved ones seem more burdened than ever? More and more I think it's a function of age: as my husband and I get older, so do those with whom we are most involved, and all of us find ourselves facing increasing responsibilities and challenges ranging from rearing our children to managing our finances to dealing with our own health problems to caring for aged parents.
As I ponder the situations of family and friends who are struggling and who have asked for my prayers (as I have asked for theirs), it boggles my feeble little human mind to consider the the extent of suffering I see in just my immediate sphere of existence and to know that it is only a tiny percentage of the suffering that is going on in the rest of the world.
But what I find even more mind-boggling is the thought that the God of the universe knows each of His created souls intimately, as a dear Father knows His dear children, and that as we struggle and cry and grieve and doubt He experiences it all with us, just as parents share bitterly in the pain faced by their own children. And somehow, as the prayers of the faithful come unceasingly to the Father's ears, He manages to hear every single one, as if that one prayer were the only one being offered at that moment in time. I know this to be true, but I find it incomprehensible nonetheless.
"Oh, Lord, you have searched me and known me!
You know when I sit down and when I rise up; you discern my thoughts from afar.
You search out my path and my lying down and are acquainted with all my ways.
Even before a word is on my tongue, behold, O Lord, you know it altogether.
You hem me in, behind and before, and lay your hand upon me.
Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is high; I cannot attain it." (Psalm 139: 1-6)
So why does life seem harder these days? And why do my friends and loved ones seem more burdened than ever? More and more I think it's a function of age: as my husband and I get older, so do those with whom we are most involved, and all of us find ourselves facing increasing responsibilities and challenges ranging from rearing our children to managing our finances to dealing with our own health problems to caring for aged parents.
As I ponder the situations of family and friends who are struggling and who have asked for my prayers (as I have asked for theirs), it boggles my feeble little human mind to consider the the extent of suffering I see in just my immediate sphere of existence and to know that it is only a tiny percentage of the suffering that is going on in the rest of the world.
But what I find even more mind-boggling is the thought that the God of the universe knows each of His created souls intimately, as a dear Father knows His dear children, and that as we struggle and cry and grieve and doubt He experiences it all with us, just as parents share bitterly in the pain faced by their own children. And somehow, as the prayers of the faithful come unceasingly to the Father's ears, He manages to hear every single one, as if that one prayer were the only one being offered at that moment in time. I know this to be true, but I find it incomprehensible nonetheless.
"Oh, Lord, you have searched me and known me!
You know when I sit down and when I rise up; you discern my thoughts from afar.
You search out my path and my lying down and are acquainted with all my ways.
Even before a word is on my tongue, behold, O Lord, you know it altogether.
You hem me in, behind and before, and lay your hand upon me.
Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is high; I cannot attain it." (Psalm 139: 1-6)
Sunday, September 23, 2007
Straw Poll Thoughts
Thanks to everyone who has so far voted in this site's presidential straw poll, linked at right. You are invited to continue voting on a weekly basis and to encourage anyone else you know to visit and do the same. The Pajamas Media poll is, of course, not at all scientific, but I find it fascinating to get a peek at the preferences of those who frequent this blog, and I will be interested to see if the results change over time. So please keep voting! (Last week's poll has closed but there should soon be a new one.)
Right now among voters at this site, Fred Thompson is leading the GOP contenders and Bill Richardson is leading the Democratic ones. I find it interesting to note that these results mirror those of the national Pajamas straw poll but that they are in stark contrast to the Real Clear Politics average of leading national polls, which this week shows Rudy Giuliani and Hillary Clinton ahead in their respective races.
Reflecting on this divergence, I have a couple of theories (about which I am the first to admit I could be totally mistaken). First, the Pajamas poll in its un-scientificness reflects the more conservative leanings of Pajamas Media readers. Second, I believe the Republican result in particular reflects the high hopes conservative voters have for the candidacy of Fred Thompson. As I have talked with other conservatives in recent months, I have often heard reflected in their opinions my own struggle to find a candidate I can enthusiastically embrace combined with my curiosity about the possible candidacies of both Fred Thompson and Newt Gingrich. Now that Thompson has announced, I think a lot of conservative voters are eagerly anticipating his emergence as a candidate who can compete nationally while representing them as a social as well as fiscal conservative.
I have shared in that anticipation. Yet in the first few weeks of Thompson's candidacy I have begun to have doubts about whether he is THE ONE. I will admit that this uncertainty is a result less of my own impressions of his performance in the last few weeks--due to personal circumstances I have just not been following national news very closely--and more of the observations of some analysts whose opinions I respect. I have also become aware and concerned that in head-to-head match-ups of Republicans against Hillary Clinton (who as we all know is the almost certain Democratic candidate), Thompson does not fare as well as either Giuliani or--surprise!--John McCain. Yes, we need a candidate with the right views. But we also need a candidate who can win.
If you, like me, have been waiting around for the Republican knight on a white horse who is going to ride in and save this election, and if you have been hoping Thompson might be our hero, you may wish to read the following columns by two savvy political pundits who suggest that may not happen. If after reading you can offer some rebuttals to the concerns they raise, I encourage you to do so, because I would like to hear the case for Thompson.
If you are a committed Thompson supporter, please know that I have not yet decided on a candidate, and it is not my intent to attack him. But I do think that when he was on the sidelines it was very easy for frustrated conservatives like myself to idealize him, endowing him with whatever attributes we were most missing in the announced candidates. Now that he is in the race, the political honeymoon is over, and the scrutiny has begun.
Friday, September 21, 2007
Cell Phone Update
An update on our cell phone dilemma . . .
We ran out of minutes yesterday. In fact, at last check we were at least half an hour over (with three days remaining in our billing month). So I took the good advice of one of my readers and called our provider. After I explained the situation to the customer service representative and she perused our account enough to see that this was an exceptional month of usage for us, she offered 150 free bonus minutes to carry us through to the next billing cycle. Problem solved!
A tip of the hat to T-Mobile! It's nice to encounter some flexibility (and humanity) in the corporate world.
We ran out of minutes yesterday. In fact, at last check we were at least half an hour over (with three days remaining in our billing month). So I took the good advice of one of my readers and called our provider. After I explained the situation to the customer service representative and she perused our account enough to see that this was an exceptional month of usage for us, she offered 150 free bonus minutes to carry us through to the next billing cycle. Problem solved!
A tip of the hat to T-Mobile! It's nice to encounter some flexibility (and humanity) in the corporate world.
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
New Toy
For fun, I have added a Pajamas Media presidential straw poll to my blog (see right). So if you like you may now vote here once weekly for your preferred candidate in each of the two major parties. (For voting purposes Pajamas is listing only the top tier of candidates as identified by Real Clear Politics.) Results given are for votes on this site only (you can also view national results), meaning it should be interesting to see which candidates are preferred by my eclectic (motley?) readership of confessional Lutherans, homeschoolers, musicians, chess players & Texans.
Happy voting! Let the 2008 presidential games begin!
(Hey, does this mean I can tell everyone I'm a precinct captain now?)
Happy voting! Let the 2008 presidential games begin!
(Hey, does this mean I can tell everyone I'm a precinct captain now?)
Breathtaking Ignorance
Check out this video, linked on Dr. Mercola's website, of a British television program interviewing Americans about 9/11. And then take a moment to realize that all these people get the same vote as the rest of us. It's enough to make one think King George was right about democracy.
Puns
A friend sent this list of puns, which supposedly claimed top honors in an "International Pun Contest." I was unable to "google" any evidence of such a contest, but from the number of "hits" my search brought up it appears this collection of puns has been making the rounds for a while.
Contest or no contest, they are undeniably fun. Enjoy! And if you have a moment, leave a comment and vote for your favorite! (My personal favorite is #6, for obvious reasons.)
1) A vulture boards an airplane, carrying two dead raccoons. The stewardess looks at him and says, "I'm sorry, sir, only one carrion allowed per passenger."
2) Two fish swim into a concrete wall. The one turns to the other and says, "Dam!"
3) Two Eskimos sitting in a kayak were chilly, so they lit a fire in the craft. Unsurprisingly it sank, proving once again that you can't have your kayak and heat it too.
4) Two hydrogen atoms meet. One says "I've lost my electron." The other says "Are you sure?" The first replies, "Yes, I'm positive."
5) Did you hear about the Buddhist who refused Novocain during a root canal? He wanted to transcend dental medication.
6) A group of chess enthusiasts checked into a hotel and were standing in the lobby discussing their recent tournament victories. After about an hour, the manager came out of the office and asked them to disperse. "But why?" they asked, as they moved off. "Because," he said, "I can't stand chess nuts boasting in an open foyer."
7) A woman has twins and gives them up for adoption. One of them goes to a family in Egypt and is named "Ahmal." The other goes to a family in Spain; they name him "Juan." Years later, Juan sends a picture of himself to his birth mother. Upon receiving the picture, she tells her husband that she wishes she also had a picture of Ahmal. Her husband responds, "They're twins! If you've seen Juan, you've seen Ahmal."
8) Some friars were behind on their belfry payments, so they opened up a small florist shop to raise funds. Since everyone liked to buy flowers from the men of God, a rival florist across town thought the competition was unfair. He asked the good fathers to close down, but they would not. He went back and begged the friars to close. They ignored him. So, the rival florist hired Hugh MacTaggart, the roughest and most vicious thug in town to "persuade" them to close. Hugh beat up the friars and trashed their store, saying he'd be back if they didn't close up shop. Terrified, they did so, thereby proving that only Hugh can prevent florist friars.
Editor's note: I think whoever came up with this one owes us all an apology.
9) Mahatma Gandhi, as you know, walked barefoot most of the time, which produced an impressive set of callouses on his feet. He also ate very little, which made him rather frail, and with his odd diet, he suffered from bad breath. This made him . . . (Oh, man, this is so bad, it's good) . . . A super calloused fragile mystic hexed by halitosis.
10) And finally, there was the person who sent ten different puns to his friends, with the hope that at least one of the puns would make them laugh. No pun in ten did.
Contest or no contest, they are undeniably fun. Enjoy! And if you have a moment, leave a comment and vote for your favorite! (My personal favorite is #6, for obvious reasons.)
1) A vulture boards an airplane, carrying two dead raccoons. The stewardess looks at him and says, "I'm sorry, sir, only one carrion allowed per passenger."
2) Two fish swim into a concrete wall. The one turns to the other and says, "Dam!"
3) Two Eskimos sitting in a kayak were chilly, so they lit a fire in the craft. Unsurprisingly it sank, proving once again that you can't have your kayak and heat it too.
4) Two hydrogen atoms meet. One says "I've lost my electron." The other says "Are you sure?" The first replies, "Yes, I'm positive."
5) Did you hear about the Buddhist who refused Novocain during a root canal? He wanted to transcend dental medication.
6) A group of chess enthusiasts checked into a hotel and were standing in the lobby discussing their recent tournament victories. After about an hour, the manager came out of the office and asked them to disperse. "But why?" they asked, as they moved off. "Because," he said, "I can't stand chess nuts boasting in an open foyer."
7) A woman has twins and gives them up for adoption. One of them goes to a family in Egypt and is named "Ahmal." The other goes to a family in Spain; they name him "Juan." Years later, Juan sends a picture of himself to his birth mother. Upon receiving the picture, she tells her husband that she wishes she also had a picture of Ahmal. Her husband responds, "They're twins! If you've seen Juan, you've seen Ahmal."
8) Some friars were behind on their belfry payments, so they opened up a small florist shop to raise funds. Since everyone liked to buy flowers from the men of God, a rival florist across town thought the competition was unfair. He asked the good fathers to close down, but they would not. He went back and begged the friars to close. They ignored him. So, the rival florist hired Hugh MacTaggart, the roughest and most vicious thug in town to "persuade" them to close. Hugh beat up the friars and trashed their store, saying he'd be back if they didn't close up shop. Terrified, they did so, thereby proving that only Hugh can prevent florist friars.
Editor's note: I think whoever came up with this one owes us all an apology.
9) Mahatma Gandhi, as you know, walked barefoot most of the time, which produced an impressive set of callouses on his feet. He also ate very little, which made him rather frail, and with his odd diet, he suffered from bad breath. This made him . . . (Oh, man, this is so bad, it's good) . . . A super calloused fragile mystic hexed by halitosis.
10) And finally, there was the person who sent ten different puns to his friends, with the hope that at least one of the puns would make them laugh. No pun in ten did.
Friday, September 14, 2007
An Exercise in Narcissism
Speaking of memes (see previous post), a few months back my friend ElephantsChild was tagged to write 8 Things You Might Not Know about her. I was pleased to see her get tagged, not only because I was interested to find out those secret eight things, but also because being my friend and all I thought she might tag me. And this sounded like a really fun meme!
So I waited, and waited, and waited . . . but when she finally wrote her 8 Things, she didn't tag anyone! (Something about too much time passing since she was tagged.) ElephantsChild, you let me down!
I am left with no choice but to tag myself. So here goes . . .
Eight Things You Might Not Know About Me
1) I have ten brothers and sisters. (Quick history: my dad was a widower with four children; my mom was divorced with six; they married and had me, the baby. I have 32 nieces and nephews. I've lost count of the grand-nieces and nephews.)
2) I am totally, completely afraid of flying. Just thinking about it starts my heart pounding and my palms sweating.
3) In spite of #2, my husband succeeded in getting me on a plane and flying me all the way to Grenada in 2002 (if you're not sure where that is, check a map--we're talking almost to South America, folks). We are now using an American Airlines "miles" credit card for almost all of our non-mortgage spending and hope to save up enough miles to return with the children in the near future (our 2002 trip was the honeymoon we never took, deferred to our 15-year wedding anniversary). We have already earned the equivalent of three tickets and are working on the fourth.
4) I was a cheerleader in junior high. (I know, I can't quite believe it myself. But it's true.) In the interest of full disclosure, you should know that I was attending a tiny, rural Texas school at the time--so tiny in fact that grades K-12 were all on one campus. So it's not like there was a lot of competition.
5) I once had a pet chicken named Fluffy. (And as it happens, that was also during my junior high years--boy, those were interesting times.)
6) My husband and I enjoy ballroom dancing. (We're not very good at it but have taken two classes and hope to take more.)
7) I was Valedictorian of my high school class (another disclaimer: I went to a small rural high school, too, although not quite as small as the junior high mentioned above) and a National Merit Scholar. (I hope you can forgive my tooting my own horn--but really, if you can't toot on your own blog, where can you?)
8) I have red hair. No, really, I do. I know it may look brown, but it's really red. If you'll just follow me out into the sunshine I'll prove it to you. (It actually used to be about the same color as that watering can girl's hair at the top of my blog--and almost as curly, too--but the older I get the darker and straighter it gets. Aging is no fun.)
So there you go--my little look into the pool. Since I was not tagged, I'm not tagging anyone else, but now that I've so boldly flouted the rules of this meme I encourage anyone else who has been waiting around to get tagged to follow in my footsteps and just tag yourself so your readers can learn 8 interesting things about you, too!
So I waited, and waited, and waited . . . but when she finally wrote her 8 Things, she didn't tag anyone! (Something about too much time passing since she was tagged.) ElephantsChild, you let me down!
I am left with no choice but to tag myself. So here goes . . .
Eight Things You Might Not Know About Me
1) I have ten brothers and sisters. (Quick history: my dad was a widower with four children; my mom was divorced with six; they married and had me, the baby. I have 32 nieces and nephews. I've lost count of the grand-nieces and nephews.)
2) I am totally, completely afraid of flying. Just thinking about it starts my heart pounding and my palms sweating.
3) In spite of #2, my husband succeeded in getting me on a plane and flying me all the way to Grenada in 2002 (if you're not sure where that is, check a map--we're talking almost to South America, folks). We are now using an American Airlines "miles" credit card for almost all of our non-mortgage spending and hope to save up enough miles to return with the children in the near future (our 2002 trip was the honeymoon we never took, deferred to our 15-year wedding anniversary). We have already earned the equivalent of three tickets and are working on the fourth.
4) I was a cheerleader in junior high. (I know, I can't quite believe it myself. But it's true.) In the interest of full disclosure, you should know that I was attending a tiny, rural Texas school at the time--so tiny in fact that grades K-12 were all on one campus. So it's not like there was a lot of competition.
5) I once had a pet chicken named Fluffy. (And as it happens, that was also during my junior high years--boy, those were interesting times.)
6) My husband and I enjoy ballroom dancing. (We're not very good at it but have taken two classes and hope to take more.)
7) I was Valedictorian of my high school class (another disclaimer: I went to a small rural high school, too, although not quite as small as the junior high mentioned above) and a National Merit Scholar. (I hope you can forgive my tooting my own horn--but really, if you can't toot on your own blog, where can you?)
8) I have red hair. No, really, I do. I know it may look brown, but it's really red. If you'll just follow me out into the sunshine I'll prove it to you. (It actually used to be about the same color as that watering can girl's hair at the top of my blog--and almost as curly, too--but the older I get the darker and straighter it gets. Aging is no fun.)
So there you go--my little look into the pool. Since I was not tagged, I'm not tagging anyone else, but now that I've so boldly flouted the rules of this meme I encourage anyone else who has been waiting around to get tagged to follow in my footsteps and just tag yourself so your readers can learn 8 interesting things about you, too!
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Thinking Bloggers, Part 2
A few months back I was honored by my friend and fellow homeschooler Jane when she named me as a Thinking Blogger. In good meme fashion, I am supposed to name some blogs that likewise make me think, but I have been a little slow in doing so, partly because some of the first blogs that came to mind had already been nominated.
In recent weeks, however, several of the blogs I enjoy visiting have clearly set themselves apart as thought-provoking reads. Without further delay, here they are:
1) Mother Hubbard's Cupboard - The author describes his blog as "a look into the mind of one of the most random, crazy people in all the land." I add that my husband and I have known him since he was a mere lad in our last congregation. Now he is seminary-bound (and with his science degree and theological knowledge is one of the best sources I know for creation/evolution questions).
2) Uvulapie's Girl - This lady (another homeschooling Lutheran mom) is just too clever for her own good. Her posts (and their attendant comments) always make me laugh. I wish I could be so funny!
3) Take Up the Gauntlet - Yet another smart, funny Lutheran homeschooler (they seem to be everywhere, don't they?). If you haven't already done so, be sure to read her musings on motherhood, linked in my last post. By the way, she and her inner circle have a plan for world domination. I think we could do worse.
4) The Bi-Coloured-Python-Rock-Snake - He's not a Lutheran homeschooler (or a mom), but his sister is both. And he is so smart that sometimes I don't even understand the titles of his posts.
In naming only four blogs I have bent the rules a bit (the originator of this meme, linked below, called for five). But if I name anymore I fear I will not stop until I get to ten or fifteen. So I leave you with these standouts and invite those named to pass along the honor as follows:
1. If, and only if, you get tagged, write a post with links to 5 blogs that make you think.
2. Link to this post so that people can easily find the exact origin of the meme.
3. Optional: Proudly display the Thinking Blogger Award with a link to the post that you wrote (here is an alternative silver version if gold doesn't fit your blog).
In recent weeks, however, several of the blogs I enjoy visiting have clearly set themselves apart as thought-provoking reads. Without further delay, here they are:
1) Mother Hubbard's Cupboard - The author describes his blog as "a look into the mind of one of the most random, crazy people in all the land." I add that my husband and I have known him since he was a mere lad in our last congregation. Now he is seminary-bound (and with his science degree and theological knowledge is one of the best sources I know for creation/evolution questions).
2) Uvulapie's Girl - This lady (another homeschooling Lutheran mom) is just too clever for her own good. Her posts (and their attendant comments) always make me laugh. I wish I could be so funny!
3) Take Up the Gauntlet - Yet another smart, funny Lutheran homeschooler (they seem to be everywhere, don't they?). If you haven't already done so, be sure to read her musings on motherhood, linked in my last post. By the way, she and her inner circle have a plan for world domination. I think we could do worse.
4) The Bi-Coloured-Python-Rock-Snake - He's not a Lutheran homeschooler (or a mom), but his sister is both. And he is so smart that sometimes I don't even understand the titles of his posts.
In naming only four blogs I have bent the rules a bit (the originator of this meme, linked below, called for five). But if I name anymore I fear I will not stop until I get to ten or fifteen. So I leave you with these standouts and invite those named to pass along the honor as follows:
1. If, and only if, you get tagged, write a post with links to 5 blogs that make you think.
2. Link to this post so that people can easily find the exact origin of the meme.
3. Optional: Proudly display the Thinking Blogger Award with a link to the post that you wrote (here is an alternative silver version if gold doesn't fit your blog).
Motherhood, Confessional Lutheran Style
One of my fellow Lutheran homeschooling moms recently wrote about the challenges of child-rearing. Her post is both laugh-out-loud hysterical and scathingly, painfully true. Drop in on The Gauntlets and enjoy a great read.
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Carnival of Homeschooling
The 89th edition of the Carnival of Homeschooling has now been posted, and A Round Unvarnish'd Tale is there. And by the way, I'm not the only Martin Looper you'll find if you visit this week's carnival. Be sure to take a peek!
Friday, September 7, 2007
Cell Phone Blues
Until a few years ago we did not have a cell phone. It's not that we didn't want one, but we simply couldn't justify the cost.
Then we received an offer for a cellular plan that would allow us to have two separate lines for about the same price we were paying for our unlimited long distance land line. So we decided to disconnect the land line and go all cellular. As a mom who does a lot of driving, both with children in the car and by myself, I can't overstate the extra sense of security gained by knowing I have a ready means of communication should I need it. The phone also comes in handy for staying in close contact with children who remain at home while I am out. And my husband and I enjoy having a convenient means of direct communication when one of us is at home and the other is not.
But the exclusively cellular lifestyle has its disadvantages. First, there are those "dropped" calls--connections that for no apparent reason suddenly just cease to exist. Second, there can be coverage problems. The cell phone companies are always working on this issue, seeking to expand the area in which their service is offered, but there are still those stretches where suddenly one can find oneself without phone service. (Of course, sometimes that can be a blessing!) Third is reception issues, the most annoying of which occurs when I experience an echo of my own voice as I am trying to have a conversation with someone. Fourth is the problem of sometimes simply not hearing the phone ring. We have designated one of our cell phones as the "house" phone--it is the one that almost always stays home, while whoever is away gets the "traveling" phone. But since there is only one house phone and no extensions, and since it is a tiny little thing with an unobtrusive little ringtone, if no one happens to be in the vicinity when a call comes in the ring may simply not be heard.
We have been aware of all of these issues for a while now. But this week another wrinkle has become apparent. Our cell phone plan allows for 1000 minutes of usage per month (shared between our two lines). Calls placed from one of our phones to the other (the bulk of our calling) incur no minutes, so for several years the 1000 minutes per month have been more than sufficient.
But in the last few weeks, in the aftermath of my mom's automobile accident, I have spent countless minutes on the phone with doctors, nurses, hospitals, nursing homes, insurance companies, relatives, and friends. Many of those minutes have been spent on hold, just waiting for someone to come on the line. So a few days ago it suddenly occurred to me that I had better check our plan minutes to see how we were doing. Turns out we are less than halfway through our billing month, but we have used over 750 minutes (three-fourths) of our time. Suddenly I find myself rationing phone calls and becoming extremely difficult with anyone who does not get directly to the point of the call. This morning I called to check on my mom and got a very chatty nurse who proceeded to describe in detail my mom's first night in her new location. Any other time I would have welcomed a nurse that cared enough to spend this length of time telling me about my mother, but today I found myself repeatedly looking at my watch, ticking off the minutes.
We have no plans to change our phone service. This approach has generally worked well and is the most economical way for us to get the service we want. And this has been an out of the ordinary month. But if you currently have a land line and have ever considered replacing it with all cellular service, these are some implications you might want to consider.
Then we received an offer for a cellular plan that would allow us to have two separate lines for about the same price we were paying for our unlimited long distance land line. So we decided to disconnect the land line and go all cellular. As a mom who does a lot of driving, both with children in the car and by myself, I can't overstate the extra sense of security gained by knowing I have a ready means of communication should I need it. The phone also comes in handy for staying in close contact with children who remain at home while I am out. And my husband and I enjoy having a convenient means of direct communication when one of us is at home and the other is not.
But the exclusively cellular lifestyle has its disadvantages. First, there are those "dropped" calls--connections that for no apparent reason suddenly just cease to exist. Second, there can be coverage problems. The cell phone companies are always working on this issue, seeking to expand the area in which their service is offered, but there are still those stretches where suddenly one can find oneself without phone service. (Of course, sometimes that can be a blessing!) Third is reception issues, the most annoying of which occurs when I experience an echo of my own voice as I am trying to have a conversation with someone. Fourth is the problem of sometimes simply not hearing the phone ring. We have designated one of our cell phones as the "house" phone--it is the one that almost always stays home, while whoever is away gets the "traveling" phone. But since there is only one house phone and no extensions, and since it is a tiny little thing with an unobtrusive little ringtone, if no one happens to be in the vicinity when a call comes in the ring may simply not be heard.
We have been aware of all of these issues for a while now. But this week another wrinkle has become apparent. Our cell phone plan allows for 1000 minutes of usage per month (shared between our two lines). Calls placed from one of our phones to the other (the bulk of our calling) incur no minutes, so for several years the 1000 minutes per month have been more than sufficient.
But in the last few weeks, in the aftermath of my mom's automobile accident, I have spent countless minutes on the phone with doctors, nurses, hospitals, nursing homes, insurance companies, relatives, and friends. Many of those minutes have been spent on hold, just waiting for someone to come on the line. So a few days ago it suddenly occurred to me that I had better check our plan minutes to see how we were doing. Turns out we are less than halfway through our billing month, but we have used over 750 minutes (three-fourths) of our time. Suddenly I find myself rationing phone calls and becoming extremely difficult with anyone who does not get directly to the point of the call. This morning I called to check on my mom and got a very chatty nurse who proceeded to describe in detail my mom's first night in her new location. Any other time I would have welcomed a nurse that cared enough to spend this length of time telling me about my mother, but today I found myself repeatedly looking at my watch, ticking off the minutes.
We have no plans to change our phone service. This approach has generally worked well and is the most economical way for us to get the service we want. And this has been an out of the ordinary month. But if you currently have a land line and have ever considered replacing it with all cellular service, these are some implications you might want to consider.
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
Expert in Residence
First a tip of the hat to a friend and fellow chess parent for providing me with the title for this post. (Thanks, ChessDad! You know who you are!)
A few months ago I wrote a post celebrating my chess-playing son's latest rating increase. At the time he was a mere 10 points short of achieving "Expert" status, which comes when one reaches the 2000 mark. (For more than you ever wanted to know about chess ratings, click here.)
This past weekend Trevor played in the Illinois Open, an annual Labor Day event. This is not a scholastic or "kid" tournament but a statewide event that draws players of all ages and levels. Out of six games played over three days, Trevor won 3, drew 1, and lost 2 (one of those to the tournament winner, who is an International Master.)
Trevor's performance at the tournament netted him 10 rating points, poetically propelling him to precisely the 2000 mark! So now I can say that I have a bona fide chess Expert in the house.
One of the things that most struck me about this weekend was the realization of how much my son and his chess peers are growing up. They are no longer little 7- and 8-year-olds playing for big, shiny trophies but young men, most taller than me, speaking in surprisingly deep voices and starting to sport facial hair. Their main reason for playing, apart from the sheer enjoyment of the game, is the personal satisfaction of improving their level of skill and accumulating rating points. (And if a little prize money comes their way, so much the better.) I found myself repeatedly wondering, what happened to our little boys? They aren't little anymore, but are being replaced by a new generation of young chess talent as they themselves inch closer to adulthood. (Note: there are a few females at these tournaments, but the vast majority are male, and I of course mostly keep track of Trevor's chess "buddies.")
There were several remarkable performances over the weekend, but I don't trust myself to accurately highlight them without inadvertently leaving someone out. So I will just say that it was an excellent, professionally run tournament and a great time of chess for all involved. As always, the weekend was an opportunity not only for Trevor to indulge in one of his greatest passions but also for me to enjoy the community and cameraderie of fellow chess parents. The chance to converse with some lovely people as well as have some rare quiet time was a welcome lull in the storm of life that has been raging around my family the last few weeks. And seeing Trevor reach this important and long-awaited milestone was the "icing on the cake."
Congratulations, Trevor! I'm beaming with pride.
A few months ago I wrote a post celebrating my chess-playing son's latest rating increase. At the time he was a mere 10 points short of achieving "Expert" status, which comes when one reaches the 2000 mark. (For more than you ever wanted to know about chess ratings, click here.)
This past weekend Trevor played in the Illinois Open, an annual Labor Day event. This is not a scholastic or "kid" tournament but a statewide event that draws players of all ages and levels. Out of six games played over three days, Trevor won 3, drew 1, and lost 2 (one of those to the tournament winner, who is an International Master.)
Trevor's performance at the tournament netted him 10 rating points, poetically propelling him to precisely the 2000 mark! So now I can say that I have a bona fide chess Expert in the house.
One of the things that most struck me about this weekend was the realization of how much my son and his chess peers are growing up. They are no longer little 7- and 8-year-olds playing for big, shiny trophies but young men, most taller than me, speaking in surprisingly deep voices and starting to sport facial hair. Their main reason for playing, apart from the sheer enjoyment of the game, is the personal satisfaction of improving their level of skill and accumulating rating points. (And if a little prize money comes their way, so much the better.) I found myself repeatedly wondering, what happened to our little boys? They aren't little anymore, but are being replaced by a new generation of young chess talent as they themselves inch closer to adulthood. (Note: there are a few females at these tournaments, but the vast majority are male, and I of course mostly keep track of Trevor's chess "buddies.")
There were several remarkable performances over the weekend, but I don't trust myself to accurately highlight them without inadvertently leaving someone out. So I will just say that it was an excellent, professionally run tournament and a great time of chess for all involved. As always, the weekend was an opportunity not only for Trevor to indulge in one of his greatest passions but also for me to enjoy the community and cameraderie of fellow chess parents. The chance to converse with some lovely people as well as have some rare quiet time was a welcome lull in the storm of life that has been raging around my family the last few weeks. And seeing Trevor reach this important and long-awaited milestone was the "icing on the cake."
Congratulations, Trevor! I'm beaming with pride.
Monday, September 3, 2007
There, There
One of my favorite all-time books is Catch-22 by Joseph Heller. I read it many years ago at the suggestion of one of my college English professors, and although I have not read it again since, the impression it made on me at the time was profound. It is rightfully recognized as an American and twentieth-century literary classic.
One of the most pivotal scenes in the book occurs when the plane of Yossarian, a bombardier in the U.S. Army during WWII, receives heavy anti-aircraft fire, resulting in the mortal wounding of the plane's gunner, a young man whose name is Snowden. As Yossarian attempts to assess and attend to Snowden's injuries, he realizes that they are so severe that Snowden is beyond saving, but he protects Snowden from that realization:
"'I'm cold,' Snowden said softly. 'I'm cold.'
'You're going to be all right, kid,' Yossarian reassured him with a grin. 'You're going to be all right.'
'I'm cold,' Snowden said again in a frail, childlike voice. 'I'm cold.'
'There, there,' Yossarian said, because he did not know what else to say. 'There, there.'
'I'm cold,' Snowden whimpered. 'I'm cold.'
'There, there. There, there.'"
Earlier in this scene when Yossarian first goes to Snowden's aid (by the way, note the absolute appropriateness of Snowden's name), he discovers a severe leg wound to which he applies a tourniquet. As Snowden complains of pain, Yossarian looks in vain for morphine to ease that pain. Then to his great horror as he continues caring for Snowden he discovers a ghastly abdominal wound--one that he knows the gunner cannot survive. All that is left is for him to cover the victim with a blanket and soothe him as best he can.
During the last few weeks and months I have found myself thinking of this scene and greatly empathizing with Yossarian. I don't mean to minimize the horror of the wartime situation--what I face is nothing like that--but it seems that more and more I find myself not knowing what else to say except "There, there." I am a mommy--I am used to kissing and bandaging "owies" and making things better. But I find that these days I just don't have the ability to make things better. I look at my mother lying severely injured in a hospital bed, and I can't turn back time to the moment before her crash, and I can't make those injuries heal any faster. I hear from friends who are going through some of the most trying times in their lives as they struggle with complicated family situations and financial challenges, and I don't have a solution to their problems. I look at my husband, who already has no time for recreation or exercise or the pursuit of his own personal goals, yet who for the sake of the family is adding additional income-generating activities to his schedule while he simultaneously takes college classes to please those who think he needs additional credentials to do the job he has been doing smashingly for almost 20 years now. And I feel equally helpless to lighten his load.
All I can do is offer a hug, a pat on the back, a warm blanket, and the words "There, there." And of course I can pray. But like Snowden I can't seem to ease the pain, and like Snowden I don't have solutions to the temporal problems faced by the people I care about. I know I'm not alone in feeling helpless to assist. Over the past week I have been touring skilled care facilities looking for an acceptable environment in which my mother can complete her rehabilitation and recovery. The first one I went to was simply unacceptable. The second one, although lovely, was very expensive and not accepting of Medicare. Yesterday I saw two more, both of which I found to be not merely suitable but quite excellent. After first one and then another admissions director told me that there were currently no beds available, I found it impossible to maintain my composure and started crying right there in the lobby. The kind woman who was assisting me offered her sympathy, but what could she say? She did not have an answer for me. "There, there."
I know that in time all of these things will pass and that the ultimate victory over sin, death and the grave has been won in the person of Jesus Christ. As I look to the cross I find peace in that assurance, and although I may not have the words to comfort my loved ones, I know that Christ does, and I entrust them to Him who is the only true comfort. But in the meantime the day is long and the path difficult, and I find myself wondering if and when the burden will get lighter, both for my dear ones and for myself.
"There, there."
One of the most pivotal scenes in the book occurs when the plane of Yossarian, a bombardier in the U.S. Army during WWII, receives heavy anti-aircraft fire, resulting in the mortal wounding of the plane's gunner, a young man whose name is Snowden. As Yossarian attempts to assess and attend to Snowden's injuries, he realizes that they are so severe that Snowden is beyond saving, but he protects Snowden from that realization:
"'I'm cold,' Snowden said softly. 'I'm cold.'
'You're going to be all right, kid,' Yossarian reassured him with a grin. 'You're going to be all right.'
'I'm cold,' Snowden said again in a frail, childlike voice. 'I'm cold.'
'There, there,' Yossarian said, because he did not know what else to say. 'There, there.'
'I'm cold,' Snowden whimpered. 'I'm cold.'
'There, there. There, there.'"
Earlier in this scene when Yossarian first goes to Snowden's aid (by the way, note the absolute appropriateness of Snowden's name), he discovers a severe leg wound to which he applies a tourniquet. As Snowden complains of pain, Yossarian looks in vain for morphine to ease that pain. Then to his great horror as he continues caring for Snowden he discovers a ghastly abdominal wound--one that he knows the gunner cannot survive. All that is left is for him to cover the victim with a blanket and soothe him as best he can.
During the last few weeks and months I have found myself thinking of this scene and greatly empathizing with Yossarian. I don't mean to minimize the horror of the wartime situation--what I face is nothing like that--but it seems that more and more I find myself not knowing what else to say except "There, there." I am a mommy--I am used to kissing and bandaging "owies" and making things better. But I find that these days I just don't have the ability to make things better. I look at my mother lying severely injured in a hospital bed, and I can't turn back time to the moment before her crash, and I can't make those injuries heal any faster. I hear from friends who are going through some of the most trying times in their lives as they struggle with complicated family situations and financial challenges, and I don't have a solution to their problems. I look at my husband, who already has no time for recreation or exercise or the pursuit of his own personal goals, yet who for the sake of the family is adding additional income-generating activities to his schedule while he simultaneously takes college classes to please those who think he needs additional credentials to do the job he has been doing smashingly for almost 20 years now. And I feel equally helpless to lighten his load.
All I can do is offer a hug, a pat on the back, a warm blanket, and the words "There, there." And of course I can pray. But like Snowden I can't seem to ease the pain, and like Snowden I don't have solutions to the temporal problems faced by the people I care about. I know I'm not alone in feeling helpless to assist. Over the past week I have been touring skilled care facilities looking for an acceptable environment in which my mother can complete her rehabilitation and recovery. The first one I went to was simply unacceptable. The second one, although lovely, was very expensive and not accepting of Medicare. Yesterday I saw two more, both of which I found to be not merely suitable but quite excellent. After first one and then another admissions director told me that there were currently no beds available, I found it impossible to maintain my composure and started crying right there in the lobby. The kind woman who was assisting me offered her sympathy, but what could she say? She did not have an answer for me. "There, there."
I know that in time all of these things will pass and that the ultimate victory over sin, death and the grave has been won in the person of Jesus Christ. As I look to the cross I find peace in that assurance, and although I may not have the words to comfort my loved ones, I know that Christ does, and I entrust them to Him who is the only true comfort. But in the meantime the day is long and the path difficult, and I find myself wondering if and when the burden will get lighter, both for my dear ones and for myself.
"There, there."
Saturday, September 1, 2007
Faint Praise?
In our ongoing efforts at balancing the family budget my husband and I are both taking on some additional piano students. One of those is the 6-year-old daughter of one of our choir members. This young lady's mother called me earlier in the week to discuss lessons and related to me a conversation with her daughter, who notwithstanding her tender years, already has some strong opinions about what she wants to do. She informed her mother that she desired to begin taking piano lessons with me but that when she gets "really good" she wants to switch to the Cantor.
I don't know whether to be flattered that she chose me first or insulted that her ultimate goal is my husband. I think I'll choose the former!
I don't know whether to be flattered that she chose me first or insulted that her ultimate goal is my husband. I think I'll choose the former!
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