Adventures in Language!

I have spent all week at my daughter's in Illinois meeting my son-in-law's parents from Russia. Luda speaks a little English, which is a godsend. Sergey speaks almost none. But, interestingly enough, we have all been able to communicate even when the resident translator (my son-in-law) is at work. It's comical, though. We have to be very animated in order to show emotions, etc...so it all looks very much like a pantomime with words.

Sergey knows two words quite well: "night food". He stays up late at night watching television and snacking. Every time we come back from the grocery store with things, he jokingly sets some aside, saying "night food". By the looks of his girth, Sergey should probably cut back on "night food"!

I will have lots of stories to tell when I get home. Tomorrow, they will be winging their way over the Atlantic after three weeks in the US--Sergey's first visit and Luda's second. There have been times when Denis thought his brain would explode because of having to translate Russian to English and English to Russian. When we were all out to dinner last weekend, he turned to me at the table and started to translate something, but he was speaking Russian. I laughed when he realized his mistake. Poor fellow!

More later. I have to go to the store to get more night food!

Learning Lessons the Hard Way

Got a call from my daughter today indicating that she had gone to her daughter's soccer game today. Little Ryan's team didn't play. Just the girls' teams. Since the other parents were sitting halfway between the two girls' games in order to try to catch some of the action in both, Megan asked permission for Ryan to sit with her at Robin's game. It was then that she found out that Ryan was under "house arrest", but he was allowed to sit with her. House arrest?? Why??? Well, it seems that Ryan decided to walk to a friend's house six blocks away from home yesterday but didn't bother to ask or tell anyone he was going. (Have I mentioned that Ryan is 7??) Three hours later (!) as he was on his way home--probably having been sent that way by the parents of the kid he was visiting--he heard people calling his name, several of whom were police officers! Thus, house arrest. Ryan isn't permitted out of sight for a month, which includes playing outdoors after school. He told his mother that it never occurred to him to ask to go, but I'm not buying that. He knew better! This is not the first time that Ryan has brought wrath down upon himself--and others--because of his impulsivity. He will learn...maybe. He told Megan, "This is the first time that the police have ever had to look for me." Megan informed him, "IT HAD BETTER BE THE LAST!" Will it sink in? I'm not so sure, but I hope so.

Apparently my grandson is one of those who has to learn things the hard way. He comes by it honestly. His mother is the same way. (I could write a book!) I am reminded of the night that Megan went to the movies here in Plainfield with some friends, boys included. We had just moved to the community and school had just started. She was beginning to make friends in 7th grade, although I didn't know any of them. I told her I would pick her up in front of the theater when the movie was over...sometime shortly after 9:00. I arrived, but she wasn't there. In fact, no one was there. I waited and waited and drove around the block a dozen times. I even went up to the theater to ask exactly what time the movie got out. Long past! I drove home, thinking she could be trying to call me. (There were no cell phones back then.) I didn't have Call Waiting on my home phone, so every call I made in an effort to determine anything was risking missing a call from her. I had no phone numbers or names to go by, and I was frantic. Finally, at 11:00 PM, she called and asked me to come pick her up at a phone booth in front of Dairyland. I was both relieved and livid. She told me that the group had decided to go for pizza and she went along for the ride. I hadn't sent her with enough money for that. Had she called me and said they wanted to do that, I would have said okay...but she didn't. To this day, I don't know if she actually went to the movies or what transpired that evening. Did SHE learn anything? Probably not, but I sure did. I gave her a punishment. I just don't think anything I ever did by way of that had any meaning to her.

My sister, in her teenage-and-younger years was one of those Hard Learners, according to things I have heard in family lore. Unfortunately, I was an adult before I faced that kind of learning. (I think when you learn the hard way as an adult, it hurts worse!)

I Corinthians 13: 11--"When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me." I'm still working on that!

What Do the Simple Folk Do?

In the musical Camelot, there is a song sung by Guenevere and King Arthur who are thinking that their lives are unimaginably complicated and depressing. So they ask in song "What Do the Simple Folk Do" to chase away the blues? One suggests that they whistle. So G an A whistle, but it doesn't help. So the other suggests that commoners sing. So G and A sing, but it doesn't help. Then, one says that simple folk dance...so G and A dance, but that doesn't help, either. Finally, it is declared that simple folk "sit around and wonder what royal folk would do". 'Tis one of the ironies of life. In that, I am reminded how envious I have always been of my sister's life, never really understanding that she also envied mine, for different reasons!

Today, with the television on for company, I have been watching a marathon of shows on the Oprah Winfrey Network--a reality show about the struggles between Tatum and Ryan O'Neal to resolve their relationship issues. Geez...give me a break! Tatum wants her father to admit all of his transgressions with her--her perceived transgressions--because he left her behind for Farrah Fawcett. He resists. I'm sorry. This is important because...? They can afford homes in Malibu, psychotherapy, reality shows (that are anything BUT reality), and the rest of us are supposed to be able to relate?? I'm changing the channel!

But seriously, folks, what DO the simple folk do? Show me a single family on the entire planet that isn't dysfunctional in some way, and I'll show you La-La-Land. My parents--eventually both of them--were hard drinkers, but there was never a single moment in my life that I didn't feel loved and valued. They had their own realities. They worked their proverbial fannies off to provide a good life for us. What we made of that was our own choice. In turn, I worked MY fanny off to provide a decent life for my daughter and me, based on what was burned into my psyche as important. I know I screwed up often, but I have learned to give up the notion that I can live long enough to find closure from the past. The only reality is now.

I have nothing but good memories of my childhood because I was an adaptable kid and always felt good about my family. Older and wiser now, I recognize the things that molded me. Some are good. Some aren't. It's all about life, folks! Time to stop blaming one's childhood for one's own shortcomings! It is what it was. Get over it!

What do the simple folk do? They survive because they have to!

The Mundane

There is a family the next street down whose back yard is visible through mine. They either have a lot of young children or run a day care. Every time I go out to the patio, I watch their comings and goings, and I like what I see! During the heat of the summer, they had a pool going. There is a jungle gym. Last fall, they put up a sheet or a wall or a screen or something, and used a computer projector to display a Colts game. Last week, they had a party after dark. They were throwing "corn hole" bean bags and having a great time. Often, in cooler weather, they have a bonfire going in a pit. I would love to be a part of that!

Outside tonight, there are the katydids in the trees and the crickets in the grass. Thankfully, in all my years here, I have never had a cricket in the house...but it does remind me of the farm when I was a kid. Crickets would find their way into the house. They would chirp loudly until we got close to them...then they'd be silent, making it harder to find them. I loved that old farm, but (as a kid) I always hated the notion that the bugs were part of our existence. In later years, there weren't so many crickets, but there were some kind of little beatles that crawled across the floor. Yuck! In my little house-on-a-slab, I've had spiders and ants and ugly little earwigs...and a rare centipede....but I haven't had a cricket or a beatle. God is good!

I took a run to the local grocery store after dark tonight. There were no lights on in the parking lot. I mean, this IS Plainfield, so it is probably still safe...but it seemed a little spooky to me. When I was in the checkout lane, the cashier mentioned that the people normally in the office were out trying to figure out what was up with the lights.

My daughter is dealing with having her Russian in-laws with her. There are challenges. This is the first time she has met Sergey (father-in-law). I guess he is a character! I will be going up later in the month to meet them and visit....

My house payment has gone down! For a long time, it was affordable, then shot up (due to escrow taxes and insurance, I'm sure)...it was killing me. But now it's a little more affordable. Whew!

The temp was up to at least 90 today. I guess the bottom will fall out later in the week. Megan reports that they are experiencing smoke and a burning smell from a wildfire in Minnesota 400 miles away. Isn't weather a wonderful thing??

I'm still restocking the refigerator with staples after the big cleanout back in July. I'm up to ketchup, mustard, soy sauce, spray butter, and Parmesan cheese now. I get it as I need it...

Time for bed. Life in the slow lane!!

September 11th Revisited

Tomorrow is the 10th anniversary of the event that took away innocence in America: the terrorist attacks on the US, using passenger jets as bombs to hit the World Trade Center in NYC, the Pentagon in Washington, DC, and the ill-fated attempt to destroy the White House with a fourth plane. The event is all over the media (again) and hard to miss. Nor do I want to miss it. I think we, as a nation and as individuals, need to remember and be reminded.

It's pretty common knowledge that I am a Baby Boomer, born after World War II to a military family. Parents in those days protected their children from the horrors of life. I think I was a teenager, for example, before I was exposed to the Holocaust. No one kept it from me. I was just blissfully naive of man's inhumanity to man, choosing--as a child of God--to believe that other children of God believed as I did. As a young adult, I endured news coverage of public assassinations, anti-war demonstrations-turned-violent, riots in the streets of our cities, and other atrocities that I never knew could possibly be visited on this great country of ours. Age hardens us to reality. It seems that we, as a society, are no longer as protective of our children when it comes to exposure to depravity. Or are we?

When the events of September 11, 2001, unfolded in front of us on television, I was on duty at school. I was alerted to the tragedies by email that I always checked between classes. One came in the form of a subscription devotional email. I had already read the daily devotional and had deleted it when finished. Why was there another?? It mentioned a report that two airplanes had been flown into the World Trade Center towers. "Please pray for the families...and for our country." I knew that one plane could have been an accident...but two? Not possible! The second email was from a friend of mine, and employee of the FAA who was on the job at the Air Route Traffic Control Center at Indy International Airport. "This is the real deal." The next class period was normally my free period, but that day I had been asked to sub that hour for a fellow teacher who had to be gone--a 6th/7th grade class in Industrial Arts. I hustled down there and immediately moved the class to the wood shop where a TV was set up. This was history in the making. I didn't want to deprive the students of watching, if that's what they wanted to do.

I wish I could say that the high school and middle school kids in the wood shop that day were interested in what was displayed on the news. They just weren't. Most of them preferred to visit with each other rather than watch. Maybe it was too much for their young minds to fathom...I don't know. Thankfully, they had the sense not to interfere with the teachers who were watching intently.

And what did we watch? We watched burning buildings and emergency vehicles scurrying in an attempt to get close enough to figure out how to effect rescues. We watched people standing in smoke-filled windows waving for help. We watched the stunned looks on the faces of perfectly-trained firemen in full call-out gear awaiting orders. And then we watched as the first building crumbled to the ground. The period ended and I had to go back to actual teaching, only to be glued to the TV when I got home. (There simply was nothing else to watch. All normal programming had been suspended.)

Aside from the obvious, the worst realizations for me had to do with the people who jumped from those buildings, some 100 stories up. TV showed people waving. TV showed people falling. Reporters and other witnesses talked about dozens of jumpers. I simply could not imagine the suffering and panic that went on in those people's minds before they decided how to die. I must not have been the only one so deeply disturbed by that because, within 24 hours, all mention of them stopped. No more pictures. No more reports. Someone pulled the plug, as did those in charge of television programming who decided which shows would be okay to air and which would be deemed offensive in such a time of collective deep shock and mourning. I'm proud of that. Very quickly, America's First Lady and child psychologists everywhere were discussing with the American public how to talk to young children about the events of the day and after. It was not lost on me that we were being protected--that maybe we hadn't become such a decadent society after all. That maybe some things were still sacred. Thank God for that.

How does one explain pure evil to a child? Like a child, myself, I confessed that I had never hated anyone in my life, but I hated the evil man behind the attacks of September 11, 2001. I prayed that God would destroy Osama Bin Laden, then begged His divine forgiveness for having such awful thoughts. I was not thinking as a Christian but as a human being.

It took ten years and many American lives to find and assassinate Osama Bin Laden. It was a military venture, which took the blame for my bad thoughts off my shoulders. And I must say, the whole thing was handled in the only way it could have been. Bin Laden was engaged in gunfire and killed in a raid on a compound in Pakistan just a few months ago. It was carefully determined that we had the right guy, and his body was disposed of at sea--supposedly in an "honorable" way acceptable to Muslims. There was a hue and cry from some American citizens that they wanted to see pictures of the body to be sure, etc...but we were being protected. We could simply have captured him and brought him back to the US, for what? Trial in American courts with American due process, only to be housed during appeals and while the Justice System tried to work? Then what? Execution by lethal injection? It would have been too much. If we had displayed his dead body, we would have been participating in sensationalism at its worst. Airing pictures would have been as bad and could incite retribution. (It was bad enough that there was rejoicing in the streets in some cities.) As it is, no individual soldier can/will claim credit for the assassination of Bin Laden...at least not now. History will eventually be revealed. We just aren't ready for it.

We are not done with terrorism. As long as there are cowards in the world who can only make their points by killing innocent people, this plague will be upon us. It's been ten years. Already, we have slipped back into some old ways of thinking. Long after I am gone, the students who were with me in school that day will be telling their grandchildren, "I remember when 9/11 happened," and the kids will roll their eyes, thinking their grandparents are old as dirt. And so it goes. But we, as Americans, must keep the memory of that day alive lest we have to relive it. No amount of obscuring the details can hide the awful reality. We are protected, perhaps, but no longer willing to take what our enemies dish out. We must always remember.

GOD BLESS AMERICA.

Signs of the Times

One of the reasons I retired two years ago was the fact that I was beginning to feel the effect of Generation Gap with my 8th grade students. We connected well, but I recognized that some of my attempts to teach them associations of literature to life were tainted by my age and experience...and their lack of. It was time to let someone younger take over. I'm convinced that my grandchildren think I'm an extinct dinosaur. Both Robin and Ryan remind me regularly that I'm old. (They don't say that to the other grandparents. I guess because I jokingly talk about it, they respond in kind.)

Last week, I was commenting to someone else my age about how much society has changed just in our lifetime. I was probably 5 or 6-years-old before our family even had a television. I was a young adult before I had a color TV...and a TV with a remote was a real luxury! Computers were unheard of. There was no Internet. Parents always taught their children not to talk to strangers, but society was safer then. We could play outside without our parents having to ride herd on our every movement. Today, that's all changed. It's a different world. Columbine happened. September 11th happened. Children couldn't chat with pedophiles online. Society has become a dangerous place. It's almost as if change is occurring faster than our ability to deal with it!

So where are we going in the next 50 years? Personal hand-written letters from loved ones are disappearing. (If you get one, hang onto it because it may be the only physical representation of someone you care about!)

I predict:
1. Newspapers will fold.
2. Magazines will be slower to go away, but they will, too. (Internet news will take over.)
3. The US Postal Service will either become extinct or will be severely limited in services.
4. Libraries will have fewer and fewer patrons as books become more available on the Internet. Many will close.
5. Cell phones will (regrettably) replace land-line phones in households. Phone books will disappear. The useful function of ham radio will go away.
6. The American notion of privacy will no longer exist. Cell phones with cameras, home surveillance cameras, social networking....all will reveal the worst about you!
7. Society will continue the spiral of not having to meet people face-to-face. We will hide from the truth and become more and more depressed in our loneliness. Self-medicating will go to enormous proportions.
8. The "food police" will dictate what you and and cannot eat.
9. Parenting will become a matter of law.
10. Schools will become so watered down and so monitored by testing that they will no longer exist as they are now. Big Brother is watching you!

The only thing that will take us back to our roots would be something cataclysmic...some event that teaches us that we need to grow our own food and learn how to preserve it...a way to bring us down to the understanding that the past happened for a reason, and that we can't discard it in order to survive.

I won't live to see the changes...although some of them are already happening. In fact, change happens so fast that I can't even imagine the changes that will happen!

Here I Go Again...

Those of you who actually take the time to read my mind-ramblings in this blog are probably tired of reading about my cleaning attempts and failures. Sorry 'bout that, but can you endure one more??

When Megan and Denis went up to northern Illinois in July in order to find a place to live so they could send for their furnishings to be shipped to an address, I had already prepared a list of things to send up with them so they could survive sufficiently in an empty house until that happened. I sent pots and pans, some cooking utensils and cutlery, some bed linen and pillows, bath towels, etc. Then when the children and I went up a week later, I took kids' clothes, sleeping bags, air mattress, pillows, some toys, etc. You get the picture. When their household effects arrived, all of what I took up had to come home with me and get put away...

Then, last week, as I was preparing for overnight company, some things that hadn't been put away and/or didn't have a convenient place to be, got put in my bedroom. (That's one of the things I have always done to sabotage myself! When in doubt, throw it in my room, and I'll figure out where it goes later!)

Let me explain that I have two bedrooms: the one that used to be the garage that I moved into when Megan and the children moved in with me, and the one that used to be mine before Megan and the children moved in with me. The garage bedroom has a double bed. The old bedroom has a twin bed that is more comfortable for me. Thus, I now sleep in the smaller room, but my clothes are in the garage room...and it gets inconvenient.

Okay...so, since the smaller bedroom had a lot of stuff in it left over from the summer's escapades plus the company-cleaning-binge, I decided today to bring order to the room. Ha! As my granddaughter Robin would say, what was I thinking?? I took out some clothing that the children have outgrown to take to Goodwill. That was one stack. I put some shoes in the closet back there thinking I would then move clothes from the garage to the room. Uh....no. There are two big dressers in the smaller bedroom with 13 roomy drawers. Every stitch of foldable clothing that I own would fit in there with plenty of drawers left for extra storage...except they are full of Megan's stuff! I didn't realize how much! I worked on one drawer and realized that there were too many things that I couldn't just throw away--family tapes, scrapbooking supplies, children's phonics programs,...you get the picture.

So, I did what every strong woman would do: I gave up! I totally "get it" that in order to deep-clean one room, I end up messing up others that are more critical to my sense of well-being. In order to get through this process, I also need to accept that:
1. I have to clean out the garage closet in order to make room for the things in the smaller room.
2. Even after 3-4 years of sorting, organizing, pitching, and cleaning, I still have too much stuff.
3. I am tired of fighting the junk. Every day, I am judging what should stay and what should go. I don't have the funds to pitch it all and start over...
4. I hope to God I don't leave a huge mess for my family to look after when I croak! I need to get at it faster than I am now!

So, for the moment, I'm just cleaning around things and will take it slowly. Again.

Blah

I've been out of whack all afternoon today, and I'm not sure why.

Thursday, I did a major grocery shopping expedition in the morning and cooked all afternoon for a bereavement luncheon at church (for the funeral of the mother of one of my Sunday School class leaders). Friday, I was at church at 9:00 AM to help set up for the luncheon. Got home about 1:30 and puttered around the house.

Saturday, I was expecting my "other" family for an overnight stay. This consists of my former son-in-law, his wife, her daughter, and my two grandchildren, all of whom were coming to spend the rest of this Labor Day weekend celebrating his parents' 50th anniversary. I've known for weeks that they were coming but didn't get serious about cleaning until Saturday morning. (Don't ask me why!) I consider these folks family, so I know they would tolerate a less-than-immaculate house, but everyone deserves a clean place to sleep! Thus, I washed and changed the bed linen, knocked down some cobwebs, dusted everything, vacuumed, changed some light bulbs that are a pain to change, cleaned the filter for the window air conditioner, scrubbed the bathroom, and generally discovered (as usual) how much more there is to do when one really digs in. And (also as usual), I had to prioritize what was most important as I started to run out of time and steam. In the end, it all worked out.

It was a very nice mini-visit. The children--all three of them--were well-behaved and funny. Everyone had a shower and a place to sleep that didn't cost them a thing. I had some company. Something for everyone! We had a good breakfast and went to church where we all sat together just two pews in front of the rest of the anniversary celebrants. They departed after church for the rest of their weekend plans with Nathan's family. I came home and flopped.

To be sure, I was tired...so I took a nappie. Still, I had an itch that I couldn't scratch. I kept going to the refrigerator, looking for something to fill up my boredom. I really think my blah-ness this afternoon is a result of the slump that comes after the fun of an occasion ends. Back to the grind, you know. But I do need to maintain a list of things to do so I don't run into the last-minute cleaning crunches that always happen when I'm expecting company. First thing on my list? Start a list!

Some interesting observations:
1. I dug out my Japanese kimono and accessories (circa 1957) and had Robin try it on as a potential Halloween costume. The kimono was made for me by a Japanese seamstress when we lived in Sasebo, Japan, when I was 10 years old. At the time, it had a hem in mid-gown that could be let down as I grew, which it eventually was. When Robin (just barely 9) tried it on, the length was fine but the sleeves were a couple of inches short, and she could barely get into the tabi (socks) and geta (wooden stilt shoes). If we had waited until next year to try it, Robin would be out of luck! My granddaughter has surpassed my growth a year younger than I was when the kimono was made! She has decided that she wants to be a Japanese girl for Halloween. My daughter wore it for Halloween as a child, too. My kimono has spanned three generations!
2. Ryan never asked to check on his friend Jack even once. I'm sure he'd already been told that there would be no time for that.
3. I had left the grandkids' rooms pretty much as they had left them: messy. I resisted the temptation to clean. Their stepmother had them go in and pick up the rooms before they departed, so I actually came out well on that deal!
4. Nathan helped out quite a bit by doing things without being asked. He put down the futon couch in the living room so his stepdaughter would have a bed. He put it back up again in the morning and rolled up the sleeping bag. He brought two of the chairs to the table from the living room. I'm SO glad those things weren't left to me. I'm old, you know?
5. As we were leaving church this morning, Pastor Ted was shaking hands with Nathan. I introduced Nathan as "Judy and Phil's baby...my former son-in-law...my grandchildren's father". Pastor hugged me and said something like, "You need a program to keep track of everything..." I told him I didn't have a problem keeping track, but that it was sometimes hard to explain to others!

I've said this before and I'll say it again: I think the best thing I have ever done in my life is to work to maintain relationships, in spite of the divorce situation between my daughter and her first husband, for the sake of the babies. I watched my daughter suffer from the after-effects of my divorce from her father--something I couldn't help--and I didn't want it to happen to my grandkids. After Megan sent the children to live with their father, the other grandparents and I met, tearfully, over lunch and discussed the situation. We all agreed that the children didn't ask for what they got and that whatever had transpired between our adult children had nothing to do with us. We still were--and would always be--loving grandparents of the same children. Judy and Phil are accepting of my daughter and her husband. I have been accepting of my former son-in-law and his wife. We have worked together to maintain stability for the kiddos. The children know this and live it. (And to their credit, my daughter and her ex have done the same.) I don't know how the relatively new spouses feel in the blended company, but they don't make things awkward...and that's a good thing.

So, tomorrow is the "cookout" part of Labor Day weekend. I should have cleaned off the patio so I could have a cookout with friends, but I was too busy focusing on the inside of the house! Enjoy your holiday, my friends! I need to go start a to-do list!