Planting seeds......of friendship, peace, and learning

I told this story to a dear friend (and avid Blog follower) immediately after it occurred.  She told me, in no uncertain terms, that I better Blog it.  This is the first opportunity that I've had to do so.  I hope all of you enjoy the story as much as I enjoyed being a part of it.

A few days ago, I was home doing schoolwork when I heard a knock at the door.  The kids who live next door were knocking to ask if my dog could come out to play!  A strange request, I'll admit, but one that I agreed to accomodate.  Living in a row home often causes unusual relationships to develop....both good and bad!

The kids who were interested in playing with the dog range in age from about 4 to 12.  There are three boys and two girls.  That group does not include the adorable toddler who also became involved but who did not initially involve herself in requesting playtime with the dog.  The four year old boy, Michael, has begun to have a very special place in my heart.  He is energetic, exuberant, defiant, tough, and the older ones tend to pick on him.  He cries easily at physical and emotional injuries, both real and imagined.  He also has an incredible ability to get himself into trouble.  Not big trouble, just the low-grade, annoying trouble that contributes to people picking on him! 

I let the dog take his Frisbee out to play with the kids.  I'm not sure why the dog was not his normal, playful self that day.  Maybe there were too many kids.  Maybe he felt that they were being too aggressive.  Who knows what goes on in that dog's head?  The ultimate result of him not quite being himself was that he went out of his way to keep his Frisbee away from the kids who just wanted to throw it so he could catch it!  The older boys began to turn the dog's reticence to share his Frisbee into an awesome game of tug with the dog.  Michael simply couldn't keep up.  He wasn't physically strong enough to get into the pack and get his hands on the Frisbee.  The few times that he managed to do so, the dog easily pulled the Frisbee out his hands. 

Michael decided that he should find another way to occupy himself.  BAD PLAN! As with most four year old boys who are forced to occupy themselves, he did not make the best choices.  He went into the neighbor's yard, on the other side of my house, and began to play with a  potted plant that she was planning to transplant into the garden.  Luckily, I noticed his preoccupation with the plant before anyone else did.  What I noticed, though, was that Michael wasn't being destructive.  He was clearly interested in the plant, not just in digging in the dirt surrounding it.

Michael seems to appreciate the skill that comes with age that enables someone to talk to a child instead of yelling at them.  Michael gets yelled at A LOT!  Therefore, when I speak to him, I try to be gentle or funny or encouraging.  Michael responds to that beautifully.  His defiance just melts away.  I called to him and asked if he'd like to see the plants I was growing.  He immediately lost interest in the neighbor's plant and came over to the steps.

A few weeks ago, Kyra and I had planted an herb kit.  We had sage, thyme, and basil planted in pretty sage-colored ceramic pots with a matching tray to hold them.  We had also started a little plastic container of strawberry seeds, covered with plastic wrap,  for future transplant into a hanging basket.  I went in and gathered all of these and brought them out front to share with Michael.  Michael and I sat on the step and I let him smell the different herbs.  It was only a matter of seconds before the other kids lost interest in the dog and came over to talk about the plants.

It ended up being a magical 15 minutes.  The kids were interested and involved.  They asked a million questions; some of which I could answer, others I couldn't. Even the toddler came over to get involved.  She made the greatest faces when she was smelling the herbs!  Apparently she likes the smell of basil and despises the smell of sage.

One of the younger girls asked why I had plastic wrap over the strawberry seeds.  I responded by saying that it acted as a terrarium.  What was I thinking?  The next logical question came almost immediately, "What's a terrarium?"  The explanation I gave was that it was a closed container that acted like a little version of the world's weather.  Then we had to talk about precipitation and evaporation and condensation.  It was nothing short of amazing.  You could watch these kids' neurons firing as they thought about what we were discussing.  After watching their excitement, I asked if they would be interested in planting some seeds and growing our own plants.  The idea was received with wild enthusiasm!

I told them that I had to go run some errands and that I'd pick up the supplies while I was at the store.  I swear, it felt as if were under the questioning of the members of the Inquisition.  "Are you going now?" "When will you be back?" "Can we do it today?"  "Do you promise to come right back?"  "How long will you take?"  I answered the rapid fire questions of the mob of miniatures as quickly and convincingly as I could and left to run my errands after putting the dog in the house.  There was some brief discussion about them watching the dog while I was gone but I quashed that idea quite rapidly!

I stopped at Home Depot in my travels.  I picked up seeds for violas, sunflowers, and rosemary.  I also grabbed a spearmint plant, with the thought that the kids might be able to be more patient about the seeds germinating if they actually had one plant they could already see.  The only plastic pots I could afford were the color of adobe pots.  I decided that was not exciting enough for my little amateur gardeners.  I stopped at Target and got kids' paint and brushes so they could decorate their pots.  I also found a cheap plastic watering pot.

Upon my return, I was mobbed at my car door.  The little girl, not the toddler, started screaming, "She's back! She's back!"  I couldn't believe the enthusiasm had lasted till I returned.  We set newspaper up and I watched five kids, who fight all the time, sit down and work together to arrange the papers and the paints and get their pots painted.  It was a good thing that I bought the watering can!  We only had four pots to paint and five kids.  I think I might have averted a serious incident!  Michael chose to paint the watering can.  He smeared piles of paint in the same small area.  After he got done, he said, "Will you wash this now?"  I said, "Don't you like it?  It's very colorful!" ( I must admit that it actually wasn't very colorful.  The huge amount of mulit-colored paint had created a glob of brownish....well, anyway....)He said, "I want to paint it again!" I did manage to convince him that he should leave it just as it was.  I think the excitement of being able to actually plant seeds did a great deal to help with convincing him.

The atmosphere of camaraderie that had prevailed during "art" time ended rapidly when planting time began and each kid didn't have their own activity.  There was no way that they were ready to do the planting on their own.  I had terrifying visions of a patio filled with potting soil and all the seeds in one pot.  So, it was time to find a way to get them to work as a team to avoid having this become a blood sport.  We managed to keep things relatively calm.  Michael was the only one who was truly having issues with sharing and working together.  As he forced his way into the center of each part of the activity (and, tried to eat one of the sunflower seeds) I kept trying to think of a kind way to get him under control.  I finally said, "Michael, gardeners are gentle".  This seemed to help.  He became a little less boisterous; a little less "bull in a china shop".  I also did manage to convince him not to eat anymore seeds!

I had the middle boy, Adrian, read the directions for the sunflowers.  We talked about what germination is.  We talked about what an "annual" is.  We talked about how much water to give the plants.  We determined that I would leave the watering pot next to the step so that they could water the plants if I were "too busy" or if were to "forget".  Their interest in every aspect of the planting was just phenomenal.  We got the sunflowers planted then it started to get dark.  I suggested that we save the rest for the following day.  I was AMAZED!  Everyone was agreeable even though they were clearly still excited. 

While I was cleaning up, there were some questions about the "real plant".  That was, of course, a reference to the spearmint plant.  When I told them it was spearmint, none of the kids knew what I was talking about.  So, I gave them all a chance to smell it.  I told them it was the plant that was used to flavor spearmint gum and candy.  I saw five sets of blank eyes staring at me.  How could these kids not know about spearmint???  The toddler came rushing over to smell the spearmint plant.  Apparently, she is very fragrance oriented.  What great faces I got when she smelled that.  I think she still prefers the smell of basil, but spearmint was right up there.  I love the way she crinkles her nose and breathes as hard out her nose as she breathes in it to smell.  What an adorable little lady!  We finished our conversation and smelling of spearmint and I headed in for the night.

The dog wanted to go out around 10 the next morning for his second potty break.  I  opened the door to see the kids standing around staring at my door!  Michael said, "Can we play now?"  I was right in the middle of my school work but how could I possibly say no to those big brown eyes and the expectant faces that had patiently waited for me to come out?  So, I told them that I had to go to the store but that the minute I came back we'd finish.  I took the dog for his almost daily car ride to the store with me.  While I was checking out I noticed the little round containers of mints.  I found one that was spearmint and bought it. 

When I got back, the kids were all as enthusiastic as they had been the day before.  We planted the violas first.  Adrian was in charge of reading the directions again.  By the way, Michael had ABSOLUTELY no interest in this part of the project.  He just kept interrupting and asking, "Can we play yet?"  The violas were perennials.  We talked about what a perennial is.  The oldest girl remembered that the sunflowers were annuals.  She remembered the word!  It was awesome.  Adrian remembered that the sunflowers would germinate in 7 - 14 days after he read that the violas would germinate in 10 - 15 days.  I put him in charge of remembering all the germination times for our new plants.  After we planted the violas, Michael insisted that he was in charge of watering.  He got a bit pushy with everyone else.  I reminded him that "gardeners were gentle" and he actually calmed down a bit again.

After the violas, it was time for the rosemary.  Adrian informed us that the germination time was 15 - 24 days.  He then reminded us that the germination time for the sunflowers was 7 - 14 days and the germination time for the violas was 10 - 15 days.  He beamed with such obvious pride at remembering all of them correctly.  It was a great moment for Adrian....and for me!  While we were transplanting the spearmint plant, the container of mints fell out of my pocket.  The youngest girl picked them up and handed them to me.  I was afraid that my surprise had been ruined but, since she doesn't know how to read yet, it seems that I lucked out.  I put them in my pocket quickly before anyone else noticed them

After the rosemary seeds were planted, it was time to transplant the spearmint plant to a bigger pot.  Adrian knew that the part of the plant in the dirt was called the root.  He beamed again at his own brilliance.  Michael was getting rammier by the minute.  I guess planting three separate things is a bit much for a four year old.  I did let him head up the watering of the plants but the youngest girl wanted her turn also.  He saw absolutley no reason to willingly give up the watering pot to her.   I reminded him again that "gardeners are gentle".  He "did the right thing" and let her have a turn watering the spearmint, although his heart wasn't in it.

We cleaned up the little bit of dirt that spilled and placed our plants in the best spots according to the directions, again read by Adrian, based on their need for full sun or partial shade.  When we finished, only Adrian was still outside.  The others had disappeared.  I took out the container of mints and showed Adrian that they were "spearmint" mints.  I also told him that there were natural and artificial flavors.  We talked about that for a bit too.  He took a mint and seemed to have a whole new respect for our little spearmint plant. 

The door next door burst open and the other kids streamed back out.  It's almost as if kids have a sixth sense for when their peers are getting something they aren't!  Well, I had planned to give all of them mints so that was fine.  Adrian helped me to tell them about the mints being made of spearmint that came from the kind of plant that we were growing.  Michael was having none of it.  He just wanted to get his hands on those mints.  He was pushing and rushing and generally being obnoxious.  I looked at him and shook my head and made my "I'm disappointed in you" face.  He looked up at me and said, "Gardeners are gentle".  Could there be a better end to such a great project?

Karma kisses

Most people will say that what happened to me today was simply a coincidence.  To those people, all I have to say is, "Are you kidding me?  It's KARMA baby!"  

My son called me this afternoon, obviously very upset, because his dog was missing.   He asked me if I would be willing to go do a walk-through at the local shelter to see if she had been picked up.  I agreed to do it, though without much enthusiasm.  I know how much my son loves his dog.  I love animals myself.  Diesel is a great dog!  There were tons of really good reasons to do this.  There were also a few reasons not to do this.  Those would be three more assignments for school that I wanted to finish tonight. 

So, I stepped away from the school work and went up to get dressed to go on the doggy search.  There was no chance that my dog was going to let me leave without him.  So I took him out to the car with me.  When we stopped at a nearby store, I realized that I couldn't have him with me if I found my son's dog.  My dog is terrified of other dogs and acts like an insane fool when one is near him.  I was really ticked off at myself for not thinking it through before I brought him.  I realized this trip was going to take even longer since I had to take him home before I could go.

I walked into the store and picked up what I needed.  When I got to the counter, there was a long line and one cashier.  The guy that was just stepping up to the counter asked for a money order.  A money order, I tell you!  It takes forever to get them done!  I swore that forces were colluding to keep me from my scheduled work.  A minute later, one of the other women in the store came up and opened a cashier register.  She waived me over to the register.  The woman behind me in line walked right up to her and started ordering.  Initially, I was furious.  However, the cashier stopped the woman and said, "I have to wait on this lady first."  Just the acknowledgement that I had been in line first was enough to calm me.  I told the other woman to go ahead.  Then, finally, it was my turn.  I put my things on the counter and opened my bag to get my bank card.  I looked once, twice, and in absolute panic, a third time.  No bank card! Naturally, there was no cash either!  I apologized profusely and said that I would be right back. 

Walking back to the car to take my dog home and worrying about my bank card, I decided with absolute certainty that God looked down every once in a while, saw that I was doing ok and things were going smoothly, and decided that it was time to play one of his cosmic jokes.  I was NOT a happy camper.  I took the dog home and tore through the house looking for my card with no success.

After about five minutes, I felt so terribly guilty about my son's dog that I decided I would go do the walk through then come back to look for the card.  Of course, the entire time that I was driving, all I could do was think about where I might have lost the card and wonder how I was going to get by for the next week with no access to my money.

When I got to the local shelter, there was no one at the receptionist window.  Further into the office, there was a woman on the phone but no one else in sight.  The woman finished her call, started to wheel her chair over to me at the window, and the phone rang again.  She immediately reversed direction and headed for the phone again!  I wanted to scream!!!!!  She finished that call and finally got to the window.  While she was looking to see if anyone had made a report in the computer about my son's dog, guess what?!  The phone rang again!  Off she went in her chair like the office version of Mario Andretti.  Two more calls and she wheeled back to the window.  We finally finished all the paperwork.  I did the walk-through, which broke my heart because I wanted to take all the dogs home with me, only to find that my son's dog wasn't there!

I walked out the door and called him to break the bad news.  All I could think about was getting home to finish my assignments.  He was very upset but I assured him that I would do another walk through the following day.  Just as I pulled out to the street to head home, I heard him say, "Mom, would you please go check the SPCA?"  What was I supposed to say?!  I had so much to do!!  I was going to end up waiting for another receptionist to do the job of three people before I could even do the walk through.  I was going to have to look at all those dogs that I couldn't do anything for.  Oh, please, don't do this to me, God!  All I heard coming out of my mouth was, "Sure, kiddo, its nearby.  I'll go try."  I looked around wildly.  Who was speaking into my phone in my voice saying crazy things like that? 

So, I was on my way to the SPCA.  I reached across the seat into my pocketbook to put my phone back, as I got to a red light.  I decided to look through my cards for my bank card one more time.  I keep a copy of my registration in with my cards.  When I touched the folded registration, I realized that it felt too "substantial".  That would be because my bank card was inside the folded paper!

I walked into the SPCA feeling slightly less accursed.  There were multiple people at the counter and I was waited on immediately.  The paperwork was done two minutes later and I was on my way to another walk through.  I looked through the entire room of cages.  No Diesel.  I went back into the desk and the gentleman behind the desk asked if I had seen my dog.  I said, "Sadly, no."  He said,"Well, let me walk you through the back room real quick."  As we turned the corner into the room, there was Diesel!  She was jumping around and whining like a fool at the sight of my face.

Well, we got all the paperwork done. Unfortunately, that took about an hour.  However, I walked out the SPCA with my son's beloved Diesel dog in tow.

I don't know how I could have looked through my pocketbook half a dozen times without finding that card.  I don't know why Diesel would have been in a back room that isn't usually part of the walkthrough.  What I do know is that I did something that I really didn't want to do for someone else.  The other thing that I know, with absolute certainty, is that KARMA ROCKS!

Always do what you know in your heart is the right thing to do......even when it's not what you want to do!  Always try to love your family more than you love yourself!  At the very least, you will make the world a better place, if only for a moment.  At the best, KARMA will give you a kiss on the cheek and tell you that you rock!

A quite unexpected perfect moment

Awaking at 5:30 am is not an auspicious beginning to a Saturday morning;  especially when I'm more than aware that the rest of the family won't be up until at least mid-morning.  Its even worse since I plan to go out tonight. Rising prior to dawn will ensure that I will be drifting off to sleep before 10 pm. 

These are the thoughts that were running through my head as I tried to force myself to go back to sleep.  I spent half an hour with my eyes shut listening to the absolute silence that only exists in the wee hours of the morning.  By 6:00, I had given up the fight.  Sleep was absolutely not in the cards for me.  I surrendered to morning and went downstairs to let my Shady dog out, feed him, and make a cup of tea.  Then, the second disaster of the day became apparent.  There was no dog food left for Shady. 

Now, Shady is a dog who values his routine.  He runs out the front door briefly as soon as I come down the steps; does only the most necessary things; then runs back in for breakfast.  Today, he just stared at me with the most melancholy look when he realized that his bowl was empty and that I wasn't doing anything about it.  I stood in the kitchen, making my tea, explaining to the dog that we would go get dog food when the big hand was on the nine.  After realizing that I was crossing the line between devoted dog owner and babbling psychotic, I took my cup of tea upstairs to see what I could find on television.  I gazed at my sleeping family with unabashed hatred as Shady followed me up to my room.  How could they just lay there sleeping while I was wide awake and dealing with the guilt of my starving dog?

How is it possible that there is absolutely nothing to watch on 300 television channels?  I put on a rerun of Law and Order that I'd only seen twice and settled in to drink my tea.  As the morning progressed, the day looked more and more beautiful.  I had broken all the rules and let Shady come into the bedroom with me as a result of my guilt over starving him and destroying his routine.  He seemed completely incapable of sitting still.  By 7:30, I had had my full of bad television and a 65 lb wiggling dog. 

It was difficult to convince myself not to go down and wake everyone to go to the shore and open the trailer for the season.  I had a terrible internal battle.  I knew that rain was in forecast for this afternoon, this evening and the following day at the shore.  I knew what a terrible chore it would be to unpack everything from the trailer in the rain. Still, looking at the sun shining brightly out front, it was all that I could do not to wake everyone and take the chance that it wouldn't rain.  Luckily, I came to my senses and realized that Tom, the ultimate pessimist, would make it impossible to enjoy the beautiful day down the shore because he would insist on making dire predictions about the potential rain.

Time to come up with a plan!  I wasn't going to get back to sleep.  Choices on television weren't going to improve.  I had an hour and a half to kill before the big hand was on the nine and I could get food for Shady.  Ok, I'll take Shady for a walk in the park to apologize for my negligence in not getting him food.  I threw on clothes, grabbed a bag with a water bottle, a book, my bank card, and the car keys.  I attached Shady's little treat sack to the waist of my pants and we were off.

I have no idea why he behaved throughout the entire walk.  I doubt that I will ever be able to replicate the experience.  He didn't pull my arm out of the socket.  He didn't bark at people, or dogs, or apparitions that appear only to him.  He was charming and well mannered.  We walked the two blocks to the park and headed toward the back section of the park.  There's a path about a quarter mile long into the wooded section behind the well-cared for section of the park.  Shady and I enjoy walking down that path.  The path ends at a huge tree that fell across it years ago.  Beyond the tree is a very small area that ends with fencing which separates the park from the golf course next to it. 

We usually walk as far as the tree and then I'll sit on the tree stump and read while Shady picks up sticks longer than he is and runs about like a fool.  Sometimes he'll let me throw them for him but he seems to have some bizarre idea that I'm going to take the stick and keep it.  More often than not, he'll just amuse himself with the sticks. 

Today, however, he decided to jump the tree stump.  Feeling somewhat emboldened by the beautiful day and the complete absence of another living soul, I followed him across the stump with little expectation of finding anything.  He had headed toward what appeared to have once been a path, but was now badly overgrown.  Like a child, I followed him.  After walking through a bit of brush, I realized that we were at the edge of a portion of the creek that no one had bothered to fence in.  It was quite an incline, but I threw caution to the wind and navigated my way cautioulsy over rocks to the edge of the creek. 

It was amazing. The area that we were standing in was shady but the sun was shining on the creek a little bit to the right.  The creek had a strip of sparkle down the middle at the point where the sun touched it.  After my eyes got used to looking out of the shade, I noticed a single goose floating on the creek toward the sun.  I turned to look for Shady.  He had found a tree root that was partially exposed and was having the time of his life wrestling to get it out of the ground.  I found a flat stone which seemed as if it had been made to be a chair.  I sat and read my book for a bit while Shady fought the good fight with the tree root.  It was amazing.

Suddenly, there was an odd noise to our right.  Shady bounded toward the creek.  I looked for someone with a small barking dog.  Around a bend a bit up the creek came two beautiful geese, swimming side by side and honking away!  The single goose that was still much closer to us began to swim toward them.  I don't know much about geese, but it sure did seem that they were glad to see each; a reunion of old geese friends.  They kicked up quite a ruckus!  They were honking and flapping their wings.  They would lift out of the water for a brief period then land with a small splash leaving a wake behind them.  Shady was going mad!  He wanted to get in the water with them, he wanted to fly with them.  He wanted to be Shady the dog/goose.  In that moment I realized that I was having a truly perfect, completely unplanned, completely unexpected moment. 

We started back shortly after the geese calmed down and started swimming calmly.  Shady conquered the tree root and began to search for something to occupy him and I finished the chapter in my book.  We walked back up the path toward the "kept" area of the park.  Shady was running about like a madman; almost as if he wanted to do all the running he could before I had to leash him when we got back to civilization.  Once we were back in the main area of the park, I put his leash on and we headed home.  He was exceptionally good on the walk back too.  It almost seemed that he didn't want to ruin the moment.

We got home and got in the car and went to get dog food. Back to ordinary life. The spirit of the morning stayed with me, though.  I did the ordinary things but they felt a little special.  I did some dishes, cleaned the stove, and, of course, fed Shady.  Shady believes I'm a god again, now that he's fed, and all is well with the world.  I have a feeling that the sparkle gained in the park will continue to color my ordinary life, at least for while.

Let the Sunshine in!

Over the last few weeks I have learned more about enforcement of the Sunshine Laws than I ever wanted to know. "What are the Sunshine Laws?", you ask. Well, the Sunshine Laws are the laws that have been put in place to ensure that public entities such as government agencies and school boards are required to meet, deliberate, and vote in public. This should enable them to be accountable to the taxpayers. There are a very limited number of reasons that a board can meet away from the public according to the Sunshine Law. As you read the reasons, it is clear that the spirit of the law is to protect the rights of private citizens. It would seem that the Sunshine Law should be very effective in holding public agencies accountable.

However, enforcement of the Sunshine Laws is a completely different matter. This is the only law that I'm aware of that requires a citizen to pay to have it enforced. There is no governmental agency that is responsible for its enforcement. Should a public agency break the Sunshine Laws, the only recourse is to file a complaint in Common Pleas Court. To do this, there is a filing fee. If you file pro se, the chances are good that you will lose. The public agency will certainly have an attorney. If you get an attorney, you will have to pay for that attorney out of pocket.

So, what if you decide to "fight city hall"? What happens to them if its found that they broke the Sunshine Laws? Well, they get a "do-over"! The court will give you an injunction to make them fix the problem. Which means, in effect, that they will have to vote again. That's it! That's all! If the court finds that the board members intentionally broke the Sunshine Law, they can be fined. Well, you say, that seems reasonable. It does seem reasonable until you learn that they are fined ONE HUNDRED DOLLARS! Are you kidding me?!

I forgot to get my car inspected last year and I was fined $125. Yet the cost for intentional abuse of power and flouting the law by a board members is only ONE HUNDRED DOLLARS? How are penalties of this nature going to dissuade board members of public agencies from doing whatever they would like to do in secret then simply paying a small fine and revoting in public?

Take a look at the story of what occurred at Owen J. Roberts School District in PA, http://www.thefactsaboutojrsd.com/. This school Board didn't care what the taxpayers in the district wanted. They had their own agenda. Someone in the district did care enough to hire an attorney to take them to court. To what end? The taxpayers still didn't get what they wanted. Now, the former superintendent, who the Board fired in a meeting that lasted until after midnight, is suing the district. Defending this suit is going to take money from the taxpayers, whose opinion the Board completely ignored.

Please take a moment to write to your state legislators. Ask them to review enforcement of the Sunshine Laws. Ask them to hold the boards of public agencies more accountable for breaking the law than they would hold you for forgetting to get your car inspected. These agencies are funded by your tax dollars. The only reason to make decisions in secret is because those making the decisions know that they aren't sound decisions. Penalize the people who are intentionally making bad decisions with your tax dollars.

It is time not only to Let the Sunshine in but to offer severe penalties for those who choose to make decisions in the dark.

Watching my health?

Well, I haven't visited my blog in a while. Today, however, I couldn't restrain myself!

My daughter was reading aloud an article that she found on www.popeater.com discussing the possibility of putting healthier snacks in theatres. Are you kidding me? I don't know when the keepers of my health were appointed but I think its time they realize that they aren't welcome!

Maybe a better suggestion would be to suggest that theatre owners permit "outside snacks" in their theatres? If that were done, those who wish to munch on apples and carrots during Titanic could do so. Those of us who consider movie theatre popcorn and raisinets to be part of the whole experience would have the right to continue to enjoy the age-old traditions that we've come to love.

These health gurus who impose their opinions on me do more damage by raising my blood pressure than the movie theatre popcorn could ever do to me!

When the City of Philadelphia focused their time and attention on removing transfats from my fast food and baked goods, I was appalled. If you want to keep me alive longer, get the heroine dealers out of our neighborhoods, the gun toting thugs off the street, the slumlords out of business, and the creeps who never get their hands dirty selling the guns and the drugs in jail! Transfats aren't nearly as certain to kill me as bullet through my brain during a drug money seeking home invasion or mugging.

Then, these health gurus decided that smoking in the bar had to be stopped. Did it ever occur to these social engineers that adults should have the option to smoke or not to smoke? Should you wish to go to a bar without smoke, then find a non-smoking bar! How difficult is that concept?

Concern about my best interests? Are you kidding me?! These folks are imposing their opinions on other adults and we are behaving like sheep! What are you going to do when they decide that cars are a danger to your health pass legislation to forbid you to drive your car? How about you hop on your bike to go to work?

As we allow the government to legislate more and more of our lives, and continue to defend them because they are acting in our best interests, we are creeping closer and closer to destroying the concept of democracy and independent decision making completely.

I think while they're watching my health, I'll rush to the movie theater to watch "Shutter Island" with a huge tub of buttered popcorn and a giant box of raisinets, while I'm still allowed to have them!

We don't need low performers and non performers

There is a school of thought in the education system that makes statements that seem incredibly reasonable on the surface but are a simply a new version of discrimination. Jokes are made all the time about gay being the new black but, those commentators are missing the boat. Poor and broken is the new black. While race and gender never cease to be an areas of discrimination, both have been surpassed by the discrimination engendered by the normal result of living in poverty in a situation which does not offer security or offers limited security.

Children raised in homes in which they are unwanted, or in which the resources do not exist to make it possible for them to receive the attention necessary to make them feel wanted, might have priorities that do not include progressing in their education. Their needs are substantially more short-term than that. Will there be dinner? Will there be a place to sleep that is warm, clean, safe? Will entering my owm home result in emotional pain that is too much to bear? These children aren't able to focus on the personal reward that can be found in achieving an "A". They aren't capable of even the most basic long-term decisions. They look at an hour from now, six hours from now, tomorrow morning, this weekend.

Whether their situation is the result of poverty in a loving environment, or a single parent who is absent in an attempt to keep them financially solvent, or a family that doesn't want them whether the family is financially capable or not, or a million other scenarios, these kids can't count on anything and can't see past making it through today or even smaller increments of time. Yet, I speak to people who have all the right paper to be educators and they tell me that these kids aren't motivated. They tell me that these kids don't deserve a public education until they can "put their priorities in order".

I remember learning about the difference between "need" and "want" at some point in my education. What I believe is that these kids need to focus on the things that are going to keep them alive and sane. They have put the "want" for graduating high school on a back burner and they address it as it becomes feasible during the war for the "needs" of simple survival.

I am at a loss trying to explain how these people can consider themselves educators. Public education came into being to create the right for children who couldn't afford to be educated to have that right. Compulsory education was an attempt to get "bad" kids off the street. It never had anything to do with the best interest of the children. Today, we use compulsory education as a tool to engineer society and make families fit the picture that we have of the good family. I can almost understand why some people would think that getting a child into school will make them able to protect the well-being of the child. However, school isn't in existence to make it possible for outsiders to have a voyeur's look at the family. It exists to educate.

How can we educate a person who is focused on their personal pain and their survival? We have to reach them first. Have to help to meet their more basic needs. We have to acknowledge and address the reality of their lives. Then we have to find a way to make an education fit into that situation. Schools are not meant to be the social engineers of the society for school age children. Schools are not equipped to address the needs of these families. We are equipped to listen, to understand, to communicate authentically, and to attempt to motivate and engage these students in an effort to help them to help themselves with the one thing schools are qualified to provide - an education. Failure to reach these students can be extremely costly. Failure will affect the student, their current and potential future families, and society.

These self-proclaimed educators who espouse responsibility as the key to making these students fit the cookie-cutter mold which they think, in their certification-driven eupohoria actually exists, claim no responsibility for learning who their students are or what their lives are. They expect them to look at the golden "A" as the finish lines to all their hopes and dreams. They expect them to focus on standards and anchors, PSSA scores, SAT scores as the culmination of all that they will need to get into college and lead the good life. The good life, of course, being defined as the life of a professional with certifications and the lifestyle contained therein. I fear that these professionals will never understand the definition of the good life for these kids. For these kids, the good life is a life in which meals, clean clothes and utilities are predictable, in which violence is not a regular occurrence, in which adults are people on whom they can rely for love and direction, in which sex is a consensual act which occurs with pleasure and intimacy, in which there is some modicum of justice, in which someone truly loves them.

I watched two movies today. Video watching is what occurs when I am given a day off. I watched a movie called the The Education of Charlie Banks and another called Aileen: Life and Death of a Serial Killer. Each recounted stories of a child's early life that mirrors stories that I hear every day from the students in school. The possibility that these students can turn away from the tragedies that have befallen them to date and try to make a long term change rests with the adults who are dealing with them now. We can not change the lives that they lead. We can not reach them by threatening to throw them out. They have already been disenfranchised on so many levels that they can't begin to describe the emotional devastation that they've suffered. They expect to be abandoned. They expect that we will find them to be insufficient and lose interest. There is no punishment left in exclusion. It is all that they expect.

Let's shock them. Let's not exclude them. Let's not find them lacking or unmotivated. Let's try to find something....anything....that interests them. Then let's use it to excite them about learning. After they want to learn anything, let's then begin to talk to them about putting aside immediate gratification and looking forward. Let's build small, realistic goals that will help them to find success. Maybe, once they have tasted success and acceptance, they will learn to love the taste of it. Maybe they can. Maybe they can't. Its possible that their needs are so immediate that we will lose the battle. But, please, let's take responsibility ourselves. Each lost child is our responsibility.

Let's be willing to alter our expectations and give them time to learn. Just because their situation does not permit them to be ready now does not mean that we haven't reached them. Each of them is worth every ounce of energy that we can offer them. Honestly, they are worth more than all the energy we have left. Don't lose them. Don't leave them to wander through an inexplicably harsh world wondering why no one loves them. Let them know that we care. Let them know that they aren't numbers on a ledger.

I received an email from a woman recently trying to explain why it is unwise to attempt to get truant children to re-enroll. In her brief explanation she included that teachers shouldn't need to deal with so many low performing and non-performing children. Are you kidding me? Teachers not only need to deal with students who aren't performing, they need to figure out why and try to show these students that they care and try to make the students excited about learning and successful. Administrators need to take responsibilities for our "throw-away" kids. Stop being so comfortable with removing non-attending 17 year olds from the rolls. Your willingness to view them as numbers is something with which they have become accustomed. Try viewing them as individuals with their own situations and really shock them. It would be refreshing to have the adults take responsibility as we have demanded that the students do. It would be refreshing to have educators stop talking about which method of teaching works best and start to authentically try to reach all the students....even the ones who don't fit your model and present a challenge.

Falling in love with Philly again/Independence? Hall

Yesterday afternoon, I had reason to go into South Philadelphia. After finishing my business, the person I was meeting with down there gave a me a tip. "Try the chicken cutlet parmagiana sandwich at Vincenzo's." Wonderful lunch in a great environment. A little corner restaurant at 9th Street, a few blocks north of St. Nicholas Church, there is a lunch counter surrounding the grill. The food was great. The patron's were friendly. It was a joy.

After lunch, I continued driving up 9th Street, through the Italian Market. I stopped at Sarcone's Bakery and got a few loaves of their wonderful bread and some cookies. I had to park a few blocks away so I had a lovely, short walk on 9th Street on a beautiful sunny afternoon. I fell in love with my city again. A feeling I haven't had in years.

This morning, the first weekend day after a cold snap ended, I decided to show my daughter some of the parts of Philadelphia that I love. We took a walk through downtown historic Philadelphia. We stopped and read the signs. We stopped at the Visitors' Center and got a map to do a self-guided walking tour. We saw the Liberty Bell. We stopped at City Tavern. We watched the horse and carriage drivers. Then I took her over to Independence Hall.

John Adams has been my hero for years. I can remember standing in Faneuil Hall in Boston and getting chills thinking about the fact that John Adams had once spoken in this room. I used to get the same feeling in Independence Hall when I was younger. I couldn't wait to see if she would feel the same way. So, with my heart full of love for Philadelphia and history, I walked with my daughter over to Independence Hall. After walking around a myriad of barriers, which almost reminded me of the chutes that cattle are led down to meet their untimely demise, we were able to enter a door which would eventually enable us to see the room in which the Declaration of Independence was signed.

Upon entering the door, other visitors were in a line allowing their purses to be searched and opening their coats to reassure the guards that we had no weapons hidden under them. My skin crawled. I wanted to scream. The irony of the situation was so strong that it filled the room and sucked the air from my lungs. Are you kidding me? Just one building away was the room that housed the men who wrote the document declaring to Great Britain that we were a free nation. Yet, here we were, mindless sheep, allowing a stranger to look through our personal possessions.

I considered my next action. I could allow my civil liberties to be stolen to be permitted to see the room in which they were so important that men were willing to commit treason against King George or I could walk away and keep them intact. I decided that I needed to let my daughter see the room while I explained the incongruity. I submitted to the demeaning search of my private possessions and then stood in line for almost 40 minutes to get into the building. During that time I talked to my daughter about the reasons for my anger. She was embarrassed by my upset but, I think, understood the reason for it.

Once in the building, we were herded into the room on the right of the door which once served as the Supreme Court of Pa. I wasn't interested in showing her that. I wanted her to see the room in which the Second Continental Congress met. As I directed her toward the door of that room to look in, I was informed by another guard that we had to stay with the tour because there were valuable historical items in the next room. I told the guard we were just going to look through the door. The guards watched us closely. A true reason for concern, a middle aged woman and her young teenage daughter looking at a room of historical value unattended by a tour guide.

I hope that my daughter got the same sense of wonder from that room that I experienced at her age. A room that had been filled with brave, determined people. Great minds thinking great thoughts. Men willing to commit themselves and their lives to a belief that things could be and should be different.

Tonight, I will sit with my daughter and read Article IV of the Constitution to her. "The right of the people to be secure in their persons, houses, papers, and effects, against unreasonable searches and seizures, shall not be violated, and no Warrants shall issue, but upon probable cause, supported by Oath or affirmation, and particularly describing the place to be searched, and the persons or things to be seized." I will try to explain to her how we are being disloyal to our country every time that we meekly submit to searches "for our own good". I will explain to her what John Adams meant when he said, "Be not intimidated... nor suffer yourselves to be wheedled out of your liberties by any pretense of politeness, delicacy, or decency." I will borrow from Ben Franklin, "They who can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety, deserve neither liberty nor safety", to explain to her why searches of this nature are not for our own good.

This will be my last visit to Independence Hall until it supports the principals of Independence that the signers of the Declaration of Indepence found to be self-evident and inalienable.

A sad goodbye to my dear friend

My friend, Scott, died last week. I don't think that many people will notice his passing or feel the loss. I will. My children will. When I found out on Friday morning that he was gone, I immediately began thinking about all the things that I will miss about Scott.

Before this begins to sound like a trite obituary about how marvelous someone is now that they're dead, let me say that Scott was not the easiest person to love. I can already see my Ash smiling as she reads this. She'll be thinking...what fun are easy people?

Scott could be difficult and abrasive. He drank too much. He was obstinate in the face of logic. He was loud. If those are all the faults that I can come up with, then he must have been a pretty good person.

He really did have a heart of gold. I guess the most important thing about Scott was that he always wanted to do the right thing. Once, when we hadn't seen each other in a while, he hugged me so hard that he broke my rib. That is almost the quintessential essence of Scott. Trying so hard to be good that it hurt.

He had this wonderful floppy 80's hair. He had twinkling blue eyes that lit up, especially when he smiled his quirky, almost crooked smile. He had a great belly laugh; almost like a little kid who laughs so hard that they make you laugh even if you don't understand what they think is so funny.

Scott and I shared a lot of life's ups and downs. He was there when I lost boyfriends to tell me that the guy was a jerk and I didn't need him anyway. I was there for him when his mom died and he was grieving their estrangement and dealing with the guilt. We watched Bugs Bunny together in the mornings after we worked night shift at adjoining businesses and laughed like 5 year olds. Whether it was hard stuff or easy stuff, good or bad, we were there for each other. We dated and stopped dating. We were roommates at other times. We didn't see each other for months at a time sometimes. No matter how much contact we had or didn't had, we loved each other.

I could fight with Scott like I was never able to fight with anyone else. A wierd thing to say in a positive tone. We would yell, scream, and say vile things to each other. I guess we could fight so well because we loved each other so much. We knew we'd go lick our wounds, then forgive each other.

I remember Scott coming home one night, late, half-drunk, and walking through the front door at an odd angle. I asked if he was ok. Only one word came out of his mouth, "home". That's what Scott and I were to each other. We were home to two people who often felt as if they didn't really belong anywhere.

The last few years have been very hard; both for Scott and for those of us who loved him. He was very ill. His medications caused short-term memory loss. He would take his medications multiple times in a day. He would forget that he had talked to me on the phone and call yelling that I hadn't called him. It was sad. It was hard. He was no longer like a brother to me. He was more like a rapidly aging favorite uncle. Yet he didn't forget our past. Just our present. He drank more and more and took too much of his anti-anxiety medication, which only increased his confusion. He told me often that he didn't want to be alive anymore. I could understand how he felt but couldn't tell him that it was ok to go. In the end, he didn't ask my permission. He just left. I hope that it was his decision to go and that, wherever he is, he is finally happy and well and knows how very much we loved him.

Scott had feared for years that he would die alone and forgotten, without making his mark on the world, with no one to mourn him. To that I have to say, "Are you kidding me?" You will never be forgotten, Scott! You don't need the whole world to remember you to be immortal. You just need a few people to remember you with love. That you have, my dear, dear friend. All the best to you and see you when I get there.

On my own terms

Reading the newspaper on a Sunday morning isn't usually an uplifting experience for me. It might be invigorating. It might be mentally stimulating. Rarely, though, do I come away feeling inspired. Today was a little different. The Philadelphia Inquirer had an article about Arlen Specter. Senator Specter has come under a great deal of fire in his career, as I'm sure we're all aware. There have been times when I haven't agreed with his position. That didn't include me wanting to scream, "Are you kidding me?" at Senator Specter. Ok, outside my incredulity at the magic bullet theory, but he was young and I am a bit jaded.

There were segments of today's article that did bring out the "Are you kidding me?" trait in me but none of those feelings were directed at anything that Senator Specter did. Rather, it was at the belief system of adults that makes it seem sane to expect Senator Specter to vote the same way as his "party" on subjects as diverse as tax cuts and escalated torture. In what way, and in what world, would a group of people expect that someone's opinion would match theirs consistently in areas that diverse? Or, is the expectation that you supress your own belief system in loyalty to a the thoughts designed by an organization? If the expectation is to become part of the "political Borg", then how can we ever hope that our representatives can represent our interests, and maintain their own integrity, unless we also join the "Borg"? Many thanks to Gene Rodenberry and his associate writers for developing something as bizarre as the Borg to make it possible for me to clearly describe the insanity of this practice.

That encapsulates the negative portion of the substantial article about Senator Specter. The article was aptly entitled, "A Survivor on His Own Terms". Something in that struck a chord in me. Reminding me of the strength, not the insanity, of Don Quixote in Man of LaMancha as he sings, "...to be willing to march into hell, for a heavenly cause". This seems to be a quality that has been lost in America. I recall that, during the period leading up to our invasion of Iraq, I questioned what the government was doing and why. I felt strongly that we were being intentionally misled. People with whom I had been friends for years, people who respected me, told me that I wasn't a patriot. They told me that my loyalty had to be with our government. I suspect they assumed that the government would act only in the best interest of our citizens. However, if being part of the Borg is admired in our government, how can we possibly believe them capable of acting in our best interest? At best, its a partisan crapshoot. At worst, their need for unquestioning loyalty subverts our best interest.

Arlen Specter is unwilling to stop thinking as an individual and following the direction that his independent thought takes him. That is to be admired. It is to be applauded. When his name came up in articles in the past, I would find myself approving of what he had to say even if I didn't agree with him. Today, those feelings went a step further. I suddenly have a much deeper respect for Senator Specter and would love the opportunity to sit with him and discuss some things with him. More importantly, I feel that he would fairly consider what I have to say without asking for my political affiliation. He has recently been lambasted for changing political parties. I don't think he changed political parties so much as he walked away from a party in which he was clearly going to be blocked from continuing participation in government. His desire to be a participating member in the US government, in an effort to effect change, was stronger than his political alliances. He wasn't disloyal to the Republican party. They were disloyal to the American standard of independent thought and tolerance.

Here is a phrase that I think summarizes Arlen Specter, "Koolaid? No thanks! I think I'll pass!" Not being much of a Koolaid fan myself, I have to respect that! "Senator Specter, may I get you a martini with an olive or a glass of ice water?" I wouldn't mind being considered a survivor on my own terms. Hats off to Senator Specter!

Let the government handle it?

I've always been astounded by peoples' willingness to turn their problems over to government departments or agencies. After watching situations disintegrate even further after government departments and agencies get involved in a bad situation, people still seem to think that contacting these folks will help to resolve their problems.

Case in point in today's Philadelphia Inquirer, the paper relates the story of the people of Camden still living with the ugliest house in Camden. The state has taken over running Camden. As the Philadelphia Inquirer relates it, a law was passed in 2002 - that would be 8 years ago now - that the state of New Jersey would take over running Camden and that dangerous homes would be destroyed. These dangerous houses still stand, as does the ugliest house in Camden, because funding was not made available by the state until recently. Even with $500,000.00 available now, the house still stands.

What made the legislators, elected by the people of Camden, think it was in the best interest of their constituency to delve more deeply into governmental bureaucracy as a solution to the decimation of their city by poverty, crime, and hopelessness? Wouldn't it make sense that decreasing the amount of bureaucracy and enabling the people suffering the effects of the poverty, crime, and hopelessness to have an increased level of involvement and control would be a more fruitful route to turning around the decay of Camden? With the amount of time and energy invested by citizens in attempting to wander through the quagmire of red tape to get dangerous homes destroyed, their commitment to the project at hand shouldn't be questioned. The citizens are the people who would directly benefit from a quick solution. How about putting the power and control back in the hands of a committee of the people with the most to gain, the citizens? Or is there more to be gained by those involved in the massive machine that is the state?