I have some scary stories to write today, having to do with Halloween. However, when I got to thinking about them, I remembered that only one of them actually has anything to do with Halloween, but I'm going to write about them, anyway.
As you may or may not know, I was married to a secondary school principal for a lot of years. (That, in itself, is scary enough!) And although we never had too many problems with property damage due to student mischief, we were always on the alert--especially around Halloween. Joe knew what to look for since he had done his share of mischief as a kid...
First Story (Pontiac, IL, mid-1980s):
We were all in our house in the evening. Joe was still wearing his bike tights, having been on a ride a bit earlier in the day. It was dark out. Suddenly, someone pounded on our kitchen window, which was at the back of the house, scaring me and causing our young daughter's eyes to get big as saucers. Joe launched out the front door on a sprint, chasing down the culprits. Next thing I knew, he had tackled one of them and had him on the ground, pounding the kid's head into the grass. The kid was yelling, "Stop! It's me, Mr. McNary! It's so-and-so!" Sure enough, it was a student who thought he would be cute by scaring us--soon to learn that ol' Mr. McNary still had enough youth and strength in him to outrun a junior high kid and beat the tar out of him! As soon as Joe figured out who it was, he let up. The kid wasn't hurt, but he sure was startled...and I guess he figured out (and probably passed the word) that it was NOT a good idea to mess around at McNary's house. (I still get a chuckle out of a man in tights chasing after a teenager...and winning!)
Second Story (Cloverdale, IN, early 1990s):
At 2:00 in the morning, we were fast asleep. The phone rang. (When the phone rings in the middle of the night, it's never good news.) Joe answered. I listened as he said, "Oh. Okay. Where?" Then he hung up and rolled over. I asked, "What was that all about?" His response: "Bomb threat at the school." He didn't get up. He didn't call the police. He went back to sleep! In the morning, school went on as usual. The telephone company (which was practically in our back yard, and the president of which was Joe's secretary's husband) provided the record of whom had called, and before the day was out, the police arrested the kid who did it.
Obviously, the would-be bomber was trying to disrupt Old Man McNary's night. Little did he know that NOTHING comes between Ol' Man McNary and his slumber! Perhaps the kid thought Joe would get up and go to the school to throw his body between the building and the bomb. Didn't happen! Considering all of the serious school happening in the years since then, Joe could have been severely criticized had something bad happened, but in those days, there was more common sense. I just thought the whole thing was amusing. Principal-1; Students-0! Loved it!
Third Story (Cloverdale, IN, late 1980s in a rental home):
Halloween night. OOOoooooOOOOOh! Considering that some young student Lochinvar had painted "McNary is a dick" on the road near our house, we were especially alert on this, our first Halloween in Indiana. The mailbox was on a post at the road, just a few yards from the front door, but there were shrubs that almost hid the front steps--especially in the dark. That evening, Joe sat on the steps, just observing the trick-or-treaters and handing out some candy, as needed. At one point, a very noisy clunker of a car drove by, hesitated, and bounced a pumpkin off the mailbox, denting it badly and smashing the pumpkin into bits. Then it roared off. Joe didn't say anything when he came in except that he knew who did it. Cloverdale isn't that big a town. He had done enough parking lot duty at the end of each school day to be able to recognize who drove what car and how it sounded. The next day, he did a little detective work, and sure enough had caught the culprit red-handed. Then end result was that he told the kids responsible that he would not call the police or their parents IF they worked off a punishment. For the next two Saturdays, there were two kids raking leaves and cleaning up our yard. No further repercussions. I was in awe of his ability to handle that kind of stuff.
Joe and I split up probably less than two years after the two Cloverdale stories. There was no love lost between us when it happened, for a lot of reasons, but these events always reminded me that it wasn't ALL bad. Sometimes, his deviousness resulted in little victories!
I guess the real message is that you can't con a con! And we in the education field have to work hard to stay one step ahead of the students. Joe always could. I eventually figured it out.
Happy Halloween, y'all. (And Happy Birthday to my brother who is in Heaven...or wherever he ended up!)
Wednesday, October 31, 2012
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
Sisters
I saw a Dr. Phil show recently (what else?!) that had to do with a couple of feuding sisters. (Actually, he has aired lots of shows on the same subject over the years.) I watched with interest because 100% of these feuding sisters are adults who apparently harbor ill-feeling or competition from the past. LONG past. What's up with that??
I've come to the conclusion that it must be closeness in age that causes these things, or emotional insecurity. My nieces--both in their 50s now--fight. They are 11 months apart in age. Two sets of feuding sisters on Dr. Phil were actually twins. Perhaps this closeness in years creates a competition for parental attention that I don't understand. I just don't get it.
My parents had four children. Shari was first. Then Barbara, who died in a tragic home accident as a toddler. Then me. Then our baby brother, Doug. There were six years and three months between Shari and me, and six years and seven months between Doug and me, making a whopping almost-thirteen years between Shari and Doug. (When he was born, Shari was his "little mother". I just thought he was a pesky little brother.) Doug died, stubborn and young, a number of years ago, leaving Shari and I all that is left of our family constellation. Does that matter? You betcha!
Shari got married and started her family back when I was in 8th grade. Everything changed then, of course...but rest assured, we had our problems before that. We got into trouble together in our younger years (always HER fault, of course!), and fought like sisters later. There was even one occasion, when our parents were gone and we were old enough to know better, that we got into a knock-down, drag-out physical fight. I was shocked at my behavior, and I think Shari was shocked at hers. We totally disappointed our parents. Neither Shari nor I ever apologized to each other then. We accepted that it was over and moved on. I can't even remember what the argument was over...
Through our marriage-and-child-bearing years, we had a number of experiences that brought us together (family holidays, years at the Indy 500, boat excursions and fun in the sun), and a couple that pulled us apart (usually related to our respective husbands rather than us), but here we are in old age, propping each other up as best we can by long distance. Shari, the recipient of the good family genes, still looks like a million bucks. I...well...not so much. She envies my independence. I envy her financial stability. Yet, I don't think either one of us would trade places. If all things were equal, we could...but all things aren't equal. Only God knows what the future brings for us.
Here is what I know for sure: my sister and I share some things that no one else can understand. Memories of our parents and grandparents...the family farm...the Navy years and how it affected us...the strength of our mother and grandmother that has made us strong. (Strength isn't necessarily fun, but it is who we are, by default.) Our struggles as wives and mothers and grandmothers--and, in her case, great-grandmothers. We have always provided each other a theoretical escape route from reality. I always know that I have a non-judging ear in her, and she in me. Whatever happens, we both know that our doors are open to each other...no questions asked. Who would a-thunk it?
God bless you, Shari, if you read this. If you get to Heaven before I do, save me a place at the dinner table with Baba and Popo, Mom and Dad, and Doug and Barbie for me. If I get there first, I will send the maitre-d' to ask if you have a reservation! (Wink!)
I've come to the conclusion that it must be closeness in age that causes these things, or emotional insecurity. My nieces--both in their 50s now--fight. They are 11 months apart in age. Two sets of feuding sisters on Dr. Phil were actually twins. Perhaps this closeness in years creates a competition for parental attention that I don't understand. I just don't get it.
My parents had four children. Shari was first. Then Barbara, who died in a tragic home accident as a toddler. Then me. Then our baby brother, Doug. There were six years and three months between Shari and me, and six years and seven months between Doug and me, making a whopping almost-thirteen years between Shari and Doug. (When he was born, Shari was his "little mother". I just thought he was a pesky little brother.) Doug died, stubborn and young, a number of years ago, leaving Shari and I all that is left of our family constellation. Does that matter? You betcha!
Shari got married and started her family back when I was in 8th grade. Everything changed then, of course...but rest assured, we had our problems before that. We got into trouble together in our younger years (always HER fault, of course!), and fought like sisters later. There was even one occasion, when our parents were gone and we were old enough to know better, that we got into a knock-down, drag-out physical fight. I was shocked at my behavior, and I think Shari was shocked at hers. We totally disappointed our parents. Neither Shari nor I ever apologized to each other then. We accepted that it was over and moved on. I can't even remember what the argument was over...
Through our marriage-and-child-bearing years, we had a number of experiences that brought us together (family holidays, years at the Indy 500, boat excursions and fun in the sun), and a couple that pulled us apart (usually related to our respective husbands rather than us), but here we are in old age, propping each other up as best we can by long distance. Shari, the recipient of the good family genes, still looks like a million bucks. I...well...not so much. She envies my independence. I envy her financial stability. Yet, I don't think either one of us would trade places. If all things were equal, we could...but all things aren't equal. Only God knows what the future brings for us.
Here is what I know for sure: my sister and I share some things that no one else can understand. Memories of our parents and grandparents...the family farm...the Navy years and how it affected us...the strength of our mother and grandmother that has made us strong. (Strength isn't necessarily fun, but it is who we are, by default.) Our struggles as wives and mothers and grandmothers--and, in her case, great-grandmothers. We have always provided each other a theoretical escape route from reality. I always know that I have a non-judging ear in her, and she in me. Whatever happens, we both know that our doors are open to each other...no questions asked. Who would a-thunk it?
God bless you, Shari, if you read this. If you get to Heaven before I do, save me a place at the dinner table with Baba and Popo, Mom and Dad, and Doug and Barbie for me. If I get there first, I will send the maitre-d' to ask if you have a reservation! (Wink!)
Friday, October 26, 2012
Politics Be Damned!
I am going to write this tonight in the hopes that it will satisfy my need to be heard before I make a total fool of myself on Facebook.
We are only a couple of weeks before the Presidential election. Both parties are pulling out all of the stops at the last minute in the hope of influencing people who are undecided. People who actually think for themselves can see the politics and the intent, but people who don't can be influenced.
One of my personal passions is the way women are treated by the Republican Party. These are the conservatives among us...the Christians...those who claim to be the only defenders of offenses to the Constitution. They are anti-abortion, claiming that the Bible gives them the right to defend the rights of the unborn, even in the case of rape and incest. The candidates are stepping all over themselves in droves, these days, and it troubles me. One fellow named Akins made some inane statement about how the female body has a way of shutting down and not allowing a raped woman to become pregnant. Another, in my very own state of Indiana, claimed that he was against abortion in the case of rape/incest because, even though rape was deplorable, if a woman becomes pregnant due to that rape, it is a life that God intended to happen. That announcement means, to him, that the woman should be required to carry a rape baby to term because life is sacred--his religious belief.
Well, good for him! I respect his opinion. Really, I do! I just don't want him to represent me in government. And here's why: The last time I looked, the laws of the Constitution were not written to cover THREE sets of citizens--men, women, and pregnant women. We, as a country, cannot discriminate against pregnant women, requiring them to carry a fetus/baby to term, unless we also require men and non-pregnant women to submit to reproductive laws, as well. We are not permitted to require mandatory sterilization of pedophiles and rapists or women who have a zillion kids just to take advantage of welfare. I don't even like the overtones of that.
Like Mr. Mourdock (the candidate who goofed up), I also believe that life begins at conception. No doubt about that. But when does that life begin to have American rights? Certainly not until that fetus/baby is capable of living outside the womb. (Third trimester of pregnancy.) If we do our research about stages of gestation, a fetus in the very early weeks of pregnancy just looks like a chicken embryo. As it grows, features develop. A beating heart does NOT mean that the organism feels or thinks. Abortion in the early weeks is like stepping on a bug. (Sorry about the analogy, but true.) Loved and wanted and nurtured, the unborn becomes a baby that is born into a family...whatever that means. Conceived in incest or rape--or any other negative situation-- the mother should not be required to carry a fetus to term, by law. And the laws that determine that should NOT be made by men without female representation!!!! We simply cannot make legal decisions that legislate morality and still have separation of church and state. I am a Christian, but (for the second time in my life) I am embarrassed to be thrown in the same category as these folks.
I have other reasons not to vote Republican this year, but this one is the biggest for me. My child is female, and I have a female grandchild. I don't like the notion that abortion is a viable option for contraception, but I also don't like the notion that the option would be taken away (again) by a male-driven society. God forbid that my girls should ever need an abortion...but it should be their right, should they find themselves in the situation of an unwanted pregnancy!
Men impregnate women on a regular basis, then abandon their responsibilities when they become pregnant. The African-American community is full of this...but there is a whole culture of whites who are also in the same boat. Let's get real about parental responsibility. Until the Republicans are willing to DO something about the number of unwanted children who are abandoned, raised in poverty, sent off to foster care, etc., they should NOT be standing on the platform of the sanctity of life. Have they been in inner cities lately? No...probably not. Unless it is to grab an unwelcome photo op of washing dishes at a soup kitchen, as the Republican VP candidate did lately, risking the donations to the place. Don't get me started on that!!!!
We are only a couple of weeks before the Presidential election. Both parties are pulling out all of the stops at the last minute in the hope of influencing people who are undecided. People who actually think for themselves can see the politics and the intent, but people who don't can be influenced.
One of my personal passions is the way women are treated by the Republican Party. These are the conservatives among us...the Christians...those who claim to be the only defenders of offenses to the Constitution. They are anti-abortion, claiming that the Bible gives them the right to defend the rights of the unborn, even in the case of rape and incest. The candidates are stepping all over themselves in droves, these days, and it troubles me. One fellow named Akins made some inane statement about how the female body has a way of shutting down and not allowing a raped woman to become pregnant. Another, in my very own state of Indiana, claimed that he was against abortion in the case of rape/incest because, even though rape was deplorable, if a woman becomes pregnant due to that rape, it is a life that God intended to happen. That announcement means, to him, that the woman should be required to carry a rape baby to term because life is sacred--his religious belief.
Well, good for him! I respect his opinion. Really, I do! I just don't want him to represent me in government. And here's why: The last time I looked, the laws of the Constitution were not written to cover THREE sets of citizens--men, women, and pregnant women. We, as a country, cannot discriminate against pregnant women, requiring them to carry a fetus/baby to term, unless we also require men and non-pregnant women to submit to reproductive laws, as well. We are not permitted to require mandatory sterilization of pedophiles and rapists or women who have a zillion kids just to take advantage of welfare. I don't even like the overtones of that.
Like Mr. Mourdock (the candidate who goofed up), I also believe that life begins at conception. No doubt about that. But when does that life begin to have American rights? Certainly not until that fetus/baby is capable of living outside the womb. (Third trimester of pregnancy.) If we do our research about stages of gestation, a fetus in the very early weeks of pregnancy just looks like a chicken embryo. As it grows, features develop. A beating heart does NOT mean that the organism feels or thinks. Abortion in the early weeks is like stepping on a bug. (Sorry about the analogy, but true.) Loved and wanted and nurtured, the unborn becomes a baby that is born into a family...whatever that means. Conceived in incest or rape--or any other negative situation-- the mother should not be required to carry a fetus to term, by law. And the laws that determine that should NOT be made by men without female representation!!!! We simply cannot make legal decisions that legislate morality and still have separation of church and state. I am a Christian, but (for the second time in my life) I am embarrassed to be thrown in the same category as these folks.
I have other reasons not to vote Republican this year, but this one is the biggest for me. My child is female, and I have a female grandchild. I don't like the notion that abortion is a viable option for contraception, but I also don't like the notion that the option would be taken away (again) by a male-driven society. God forbid that my girls should ever need an abortion...but it should be their right, should they find themselves in the situation of an unwanted pregnancy!
Men impregnate women on a regular basis, then abandon their responsibilities when they become pregnant. The African-American community is full of this...but there is a whole culture of whites who are also in the same boat. Let's get real about parental responsibility. Until the Republicans are willing to DO something about the number of unwanted children who are abandoned, raised in poverty, sent off to foster care, etc., they should NOT be standing on the platform of the sanctity of life. Have they been in inner cities lately? No...probably not. Unless it is to grab an unwelcome photo op of washing dishes at a soup kitchen, as the Republican VP candidate did lately, risking the donations to the place. Don't get me started on that!!!!
Thursday, October 25, 2012
All the World Is a Stage...
My granddaughter, Robin (age 10), has experienced some things over the past few months that remind me that sometimes people can surprise the daylights out of moi. She had a little solo in her all-district choir concert a few days ago, and participated in a Miss Zion pageant a couple of months ago--both of which showed her to to have stage presence and interest that I never would have suspected of her. Who knew? Indirectly, I will take some credit for that. Read on...
I think I've already mentioned at least a dozen times that, as a Navy brat, I was in a lot of schools before I hit 6th grade. Sixth grade was a milestone because that was the year that my dad went on inactive duty with the Navy Reserves, and we settled in Oak Park, IL, while he went back to his teaching career as a civilian. We wouldn't be moving anytime soon. It was the first time in my life that I could explore things about myself that I didn't already know.
I did know that I could sing. Music--and musicals--were loves of mine. I grew up in a time when musicals were really, really good...Fiddler on the Roof, West Side Story, The Sound of Music, The King and I, South Pacific...good stuff! Some of the sound tracks, I knew by heart--every single line.
I can't remember if it was 6th or 7th grade when Mrs. Harvey, my school's librarian, decided to put on a program of "Americana". She needed someone to sing a solo part in Swing Low, Sweet Chariot, a Negro spiritual, so she called on our music teacher, Mrs. Boehm, to select the soloists. My singing voice had never been noticed before due to all of the moving...so I remember the day quite well. Mrs. Boehm went around the room, asking each kid to sing a line, to select soloists. Well! Everyone who was anyone in that school knew that Nancy Hartigan was the favored songbird in our grade. And she was good. Nancy sang before I did. When Mrs. B got to me, she played and listened...then asked me to sing it again. It was as if she was shocked at my talent. A couple of days later, it was announced that Nancy and I would share verses in the song--she would sing one and I would sing one. I loved it, but it launched Nancy's "posse" into subversively threatening me because I had de-throned the queen. (That only lasted until I finally told my mother who then went to the school and talked to the principal. He called a convo of all of the female students of that grade and, without naming names, just said that he had gotten word that bullying was taking place and it was to stop immediately or there would be nasty consequences. It stopped. That was in the days when students actually respected school administration.) On another note, Mrs. Boehm was an excellent music teacher. She introduced us (and tested us) on opera and composers: Wagner, Tschaikowsky, Moussorgsky, etc. Exposure is a good thing!
Oak Park-River Forest High School was a big school. With six elementary feeder schools in a well-to-do area of what my mother called "old money", just west of the Chicago city limits, the sky was the limit. There were over 3,400 kids in that school. Academic competition was huge, as was the disparity between the people with money...and the likes of me, without. By the time I was a sophomore, I had already thrown in with the theater crowd. Our school had a REAL auditorium, a REAL stage, complete with everything that a Broadway stage would have, a REAL stage crew, and all of the bells and whistles. OP-RFHS put on three stage productions a year. The fall production was open to all students. The winter production was a musical, only open to members of the A Capella Choir, a select group of juniors and seniors. The spring production was for seniors only. I went to every production and wormed my way in by becoming Props Mistress for productions that I didn't have the courage to try for or weren't eligible for...but it got my feet wet.
Then, when I was a senior, I got brave enough to try out for the fall production, Harvey. At the time, my mother was with my grandparents in Rochester, MN, at Mayo Clinic to try to find answers to my grandmother's health problems. The day Mom got back, I was happily able to announce to her that I got the lead in the play. My mom was thrilled...as was I! The rest of that year, I also got the lead in the musical AND the senior production. It was glorious for me!
Then I graduated in 1965, and that was the end of that! Although I registered as a theater major in college with an English minor, I came to realize that I didn't have the looks or talent to become a Hollywood star. I also didn't have the drive. Shortly thereafter, I flip-flopped my major and minor so I could teach school (English) and possibly use my minor (Theater) to direct plays. In retrospect, it was probably the smartest thing I ever did in my life. English is a 4-year required course in probably every school district in the nation...but almost NO schools have a theater department! I was on a teacher track...
Enter (stage right), my marriage and the advent of my beautiful daughter in 1979. My husband considered me boring because I had become devoted to motherhood. By the time our daughter was about 5, in Pontiac, IL, heard about try-outs for a summer musical in Chatauqua Park. I got the lead! I taught school, I made supper, kept house, looked after my daughter, and went to rehearsals. In fact, I not only did THAT production, but a dinner theater after that. I think my husband was proud of me during performances--local school principals' wife making a splash in the community--but there was also jealousy. I was making friends that didn't include him. I had spent our entire marriage being HIS trophy, but he wasn't willing to be MINE. In fact, one of our longest arguments started when I made plans to have a garage sale with one of my newfound gal-friends. That was the beginning of the end.
One of the GOOD things that came out of that was that my daughter watched everything I did. At the dinner theater in Pontiac, my mother reported that Megan sat near the stage to watch me and mouthed almost all of my lines. Mom said Meg was transfixed. I don't know for sure, but I think she got bitten by "the bug" then.
Then we had to pull up stakes and move to Indiana, to Cloverdale. (1988) There was a summer theater group, so I tried out for Damn Yankees, and got the character lead. At that point, Megan wanted to be a part...so we worked her into a walk-on. Thereafter, she also got into a huge production of Oliver , for the same organization. Beyond that, she took dance lessons, which I thought was a waste of time. Meg didn't seem like the type to me. What a fool I was!
The next performance opportunity for me came with an Easter cantata put on by a Baptist Church in Putnam County. I landed a solo as Mary, singing at the foot of the cross..."Has it come to this?" It was the most emotional performance of my life. There wasn't a dry eye in the house. But the only person I knew who was there to listen was my daughter...ever faithful. I think Joe felt bad that he wasn't there to support me (because he was already into his affair with his now-wife, because he had pizza fixed for us when we got home and asked questions). The very next year, when we were totally apart, I stilll did the Easter cantata and had a small solo. My father died the night of the first performance. I decided to do the second performance the next night before leaving for Illinois. I will never forget the woman who said, when I told her my father had died the night before, "How nice! Yesterday, your father could not hear you sing. Tonight, he can!"
When my husband and I divorced, and Megan and I moved to Plainfield, it took a couple of years for us to sort things out--similar to my early days after my dad was out of active duty in the Navy. She was drawn to theater and musicals. It didn't take long for her to be part of her school's productions, but the creme-de-la creme was Belles et Beaux---the show choir. She took part in a couple of musicals, but kept her eye on Belles et Beaux...and by the time she was a junior (just like her mama) she got brave enough to try out and not be just a part of the crew. One night, she was sitting in the bathtub after a night out with the organization and announced to me that she had made it! Now I totally understood how thrilled my own mother was when I made a similar announcement!
The next two years were filled with rehearsals and competitions and happy, happy days of cheering the show choir on. By the time Meg was a senior, she was a crowning glory in the show choir! She could sing. She could dance. She had a stage presence that I never, ever thought possible...but I have the evidence on tape! I love watching those old videos.
Through the years, my daughter was exposed to REAL music...musicals; John Denver; Peter, Paul, and Mary; The Messiah, and other stuff that makes her tastes as ecclectic as mine. So go my grandchildren. We took them at very early ages to watch show choir competitions and stage performances. Maybe some of it "took". All I know is that my "baby Robin" seems to have the spark that is so much a part of my/our history. She looks like a pro on stage at age 10. If this is what she likes, may she have many opportunities to lead and set an example for schools to keep programs in place for kids like her!
This was a very roundabout way to tell a simpler story...but I want the world to know that influence is influence. If my granddaughter becomes half the songbird that he mother and I were, we will be very happy people. I am so proud of you, Robin. You rock!
I think I've already mentioned at least a dozen times that, as a Navy brat, I was in a lot of schools before I hit 6th grade. Sixth grade was a milestone because that was the year that my dad went on inactive duty with the Navy Reserves, and we settled in Oak Park, IL, while he went back to his teaching career as a civilian. We wouldn't be moving anytime soon. It was the first time in my life that I could explore things about myself that I didn't already know.
I did know that I could sing. Music--and musicals--were loves of mine. I grew up in a time when musicals were really, really good...Fiddler on the Roof, West Side Story, The Sound of Music, The King and I, South Pacific...good stuff! Some of the sound tracks, I knew by heart--every single line.
I can't remember if it was 6th or 7th grade when Mrs. Harvey, my school's librarian, decided to put on a program of "Americana". She needed someone to sing a solo part in Swing Low, Sweet Chariot, a Negro spiritual, so she called on our music teacher, Mrs. Boehm, to select the soloists. My singing voice had never been noticed before due to all of the moving...so I remember the day quite well. Mrs. Boehm went around the room, asking each kid to sing a line, to select soloists. Well! Everyone who was anyone in that school knew that Nancy Hartigan was the favored songbird in our grade. And she was good. Nancy sang before I did. When Mrs. B got to me, she played and listened...then asked me to sing it again. It was as if she was shocked at my talent. A couple of days later, it was announced that Nancy and I would share verses in the song--she would sing one and I would sing one. I loved it, but it launched Nancy's "posse" into subversively threatening me because I had de-throned the queen. (That only lasted until I finally told my mother who then went to the school and talked to the principal. He called a convo of all of the female students of that grade and, without naming names, just said that he had gotten word that bullying was taking place and it was to stop immediately or there would be nasty consequences. It stopped. That was in the days when students actually respected school administration.) On another note, Mrs. Boehm was an excellent music teacher. She introduced us (and tested us) on opera and composers: Wagner, Tschaikowsky, Moussorgsky, etc. Exposure is a good thing!
Oak Park-River Forest High School was a big school. With six elementary feeder schools in a well-to-do area of what my mother called "old money", just west of the Chicago city limits, the sky was the limit. There were over 3,400 kids in that school. Academic competition was huge, as was the disparity between the people with money...and the likes of me, without. By the time I was a sophomore, I had already thrown in with the theater crowd. Our school had a REAL auditorium, a REAL stage, complete with everything that a Broadway stage would have, a REAL stage crew, and all of the bells and whistles. OP-RFHS put on three stage productions a year. The fall production was open to all students. The winter production was a musical, only open to members of the A Capella Choir, a select group of juniors and seniors. The spring production was for seniors only. I went to every production and wormed my way in by becoming Props Mistress for productions that I didn't have the courage to try for or weren't eligible for...but it got my feet wet.
Then, when I was a senior, I got brave enough to try out for the fall production, Harvey. At the time, my mother was with my grandparents in Rochester, MN, at Mayo Clinic to try to find answers to my grandmother's health problems. The day Mom got back, I was happily able to announce to her that I got the lead in the play. My mom was thrilled...as was I! The rest of that year, I also got the lead in the musical AND the senior production. It was glorious for me!
Then I graduated in 1965, and that was the end of that! Although I registered as a theater major in college with an English minor, I came to realize that I didn't have the looks or talent to become a Hollywood star. I also didn't have the drive. Shortly thereafter, I flip-flopped my major and minor so I could teach school (English) and possibly use my minor (Theater) to direct plays. In retrospect, it was probably the smartest thing I ever did in my life. English is a 4-year required course in probably every school district in the nation...but almost NO schools have a theater department! I was on a teacher track...
Enter (stage right), my marriage and the advent of my beautiful daughter in 1979. My husband considered me boring because I had become devoted to motherhood. By the time our daughter was about 5, in Pontiac, IL, heard about try-outs for a summer musical in Chatauqua Park. I got the lead! I taught school, I made supper, kept house, looked after my daughter, and went to rehearsals. In fact, I not only did THAT production, but a dinner theater after that. I think my husband was proud of me during performances--local school principals' wife making a splash in the community--but there was also jealousy. I was making friends that didn't include him. I had spent our entire marriage being HIS trophy, but he wasn't willing to be MINE. In fact, one of our longest arguments started when I made plans to have a garage sale with one of my newfound gal-friends. That was the beginning of the end.
One of the GOOD things that came out of that was that my daughter watched everything I did. At the dinner theater in Pontiac, my mother reported that Megan sat near the stage to watch me and mouthed almost all of my lines. Mom said Meg was transfixed. I don't know for sure, but I think she got bitten by "the bug" then.
Then we had to pull up stakes and move to Indiana, to Cloverdale. (1988) There was a summer theater group, so I tried out for Damn Yankees, and got the character lead. At that point, Megan wanted to be a part...so we worked her into a walk-on. Thereafter, she also got into a huge production of Oliver , for the same organization. Beyond that, she took dance lessons, which I thought was a waste of time. Meg didn't seem like the type to me. What a fool I was!
The next performance opportunity for me came with an Easter cantata put on by a Baptist Church in Putnam County. I landed a solo as Mary, singing at the foot of the cross..."Has it come to this?" It was the most emotional performance of my life. There wasn't a dry eye in the house. But the only person I knew who was there to listen was my daughter...ever faithful. I think Joe felt bad that he wasn't there to support me (because he was already into his affair with his now-wife, because he had pizza fixed for us when we got home and asked questions). The very next year, when we were totally apart, I stilll did the Easter cantata and had a small solo. My father died the night of the first performance. I decided to do the second performance the next night before leaving for Illinois. I will never forget the woman who said, when I told her my father had died the night before, "How nice! Yesterday, your father could not hear you sing. Tonight, he can!"
When my husband and I divorced, and Megan and I moved to Plainfield, it took a couple of years for us to sort things out--similar to my early days after my dad was out of active duty in the Navy. She was drawn to theater and musicals. It didn't take long for her to be part of her school's productions, but the creme-de-la creme was Belles et Beaux---the show choir. She took part in a couple of musicals, but kept her eye on Belles et Beaux...and by the time she was a junior (just like her mama) she got brave enough to try out and not be just a part of the crew. One night, she was sitting in the bathtub after a night out with the organization and announced to me that she had made it! Now I totally understood how thrilled my own mother was when I made a similar announcement!
The next two years were filled with rehearsals and competitions and happy, happy days of cheering the show choir on. By the time Meg was a senior, she was a crowning glory in the show choir! She could sing. She could dance. She had a stage presence that I never, ever thought possible...but I have the evidence on tape! I love watching those old videos.
Through the years, my daughter was exposed to REAL music...musicals; John Denver; Peter, Paul, and Mary; The Messiah, and other stuff that makes her tastes as ecclectic as mine. So go my grandchildren. We took them at very early ages to watch show choir competitions and stage performances. Maybe some of it "took". All I know is that my "baby Robin" seems to have the spark that is so much a part of my/our history. She looks like a pro on stage at age 10. If this is what she likes, may she have many opportunities to lead and set an example for schools to keep programs in place for kids like her!
This was a very roundabout way to tell a simpler story...but I want the world to know that influence is influence. If my granddaughter becomes half the songbird that he mother and I were, we will be very happy people. I am so proud of you, Robin. You rock!
Monday, October 22, 2012
One Dead Slug
I can relate to author James Thurber who wrote, among other things, My World and Welcome to It, The Secret Life of Walter Mitty, The Night the Bed Fell, and other little goodies. He was the one who penned the phrase "ghoulies and ghosties and three-leggedy beasties, and things that go bump in the night". He was a cartoonist and writer for The New Yorker, finding humor in the simplest things in a warped sort of way. Blind since childhood when his brother shot out one of his eyes while playing a game about William Tell (and the other eye subsequently failed), he created stories and cartoons in his mind. His world (and welcome to it!) was probably as small as mine.
So here I am, talking about a dead slug. I'm not sure what the scientific name for slugs is. I've always known them as "slugs"--snails, but without shells. I have them in my yard. The only reason I know I have them in my yard is that I can see their little slime trails on the patio, and I can see what they do to my plants...but I never actually get to see the little buggers. I don't dig around looking for them. (I'm not big on slime.)
Well...yesterday, I noticed big, long slime trails on the patio. It's like following the dotted line in a cartoon that tracks a character on a long trek from one location to another. I started to look at the trails, thinking I would find a starting point or an ending point. They meandered all over a fourth of the patio in ever smaller circles until, inevitably, they ended in a slurry with one dead slug in the center of it. Humph! A dead slug! Perhaps he lost his way on the concrete and just gave up the ghost when he couldn't find his way back to the yard. Were it earlier in the season, the ants would be on him like white on rice...but there he sits today, dehydrating into a much smaller version of what he once was. Thus it is at my house, aka Slug Heaven. May God have mercy on his soul!
So...I was out back after the slug episode, lopping off some mulberry shoots that come up everywhere in my yard, thanks to the mulberry trees down at Hummel Park. I had just cut down a couple of them when I happened to look down near my right foot and saw...a lizard! Scared the daylights out of me! Turns out, as you might suspect, that this lizard was one of my grandson's rubber ones. The last time Ryan was here was the week of the Fourth of July. The lawn has been mowed several times since then, but this lizard was untouched by the mower, and apparently unseen by the guy who mows for me. Lucky lizard!!
Other suspicious patio happenings since July:
*My figurine of a little boy holding a frog, given to me by a custodian at school when my brother died, was knocked over and decapitated. I noticed it right after the lawn was mowed, but my "mower" didn't say anything about it. It's a clean break. I hope to be able to repair it.
*My little squirrel figurine keeps getting knocked off the yard bench. He's pretty heavy. I'd be surprised if the wind does it...but who knows? Ghoulies and ghosties???
*The cat graveyard at the end of the patio has had all of its markers overturned... The markers are like garden stepping stones. I suspect my grandson in that deal. (When he was younger, he wanted to dig the cats up, just to see what they looked like!) Still, I'm not sure why he would turn them all over...
*Every stinkin' leaf on the Hostas in the cat graveyard have been stripped. Rabbits? Squirrels? Slugs?? All I have left are stems sticking up out of the ground. Things that go bump in the night???
*There is a live squirrel that comes by the patio frequently. He approaches me closely without fear, which indicates to me that someone is feeding him and he thinks I will provide dinner. Now I wonder if I should buy food for him, or just let him go on his way...
*In the past couple of days, I have seen squirrels, cottontail rabbits, and adult raccoons running for cover in my neighbor's back yard...and mine. I don't mind the rabbits and squirrels, but I DO mind the raccoons. I don't like surprises! Raccoons are just as cute as they can be when they are babies, but they turn into vicious marauders as adults and can do a lot of damage...or make big messes. I suspect they are living under the neighbor's minibarn. Ugh!
Having lunch with a friend tomorrow. That will get me out of My World (and welcome to it) for a little while. In the meantime, I just keep on pluggin'!
So here I am, talking about a dead slug. I'm not sure what the scientific name for slugs is. I've always known them as "slugs"--snails, but without shells. I have them in my yard. The only reason I know I have them in my yard is that I can see their little slime trails on the patio, and I can see what they do to my plants...but I never actually get to see the little buggers. I don't dig around looking for them. (I'm not big on slime.)
Well...yesterday, I noticed big, long slime trails on the patio. It's like following the dotted line in a cartoon that tracks a character on a long trek from one location to another. I started to look at the trails, thinking I would find a starting point or an ending point. They meandered all over a fourth of the patio in ever smaller circles until, inevitably, they ended in a slurry with one dead slug in the center of it. Humph! A dead slug! Perhaps he lost his way on the concrete and just gave up the ghost when he couldn't find his way back to the yard. Were it earlier in the season, the ants would be on him like white on rice...but there he sits today, dehydrating into a much smaller version of what he once was. Thus it is at my house, aka Slug Heaven. May God have mercy on his soul!
So...I was out back after the slug episode, lopping off some mulberry shoots that come up everywhere in my yard, thanks to the mulberry trees down at Hummel Park. I had just cut down a couple of them when I happened to look down near my right foot and saw...a lizard! Scared the daylights out of me! Turns out, as you might suspect, that this lizard was one of my grandson's rubber ones. The last time Ryan was here was the week of the Fourth of July. The lawn has been mowed several times since then, but this lizard was untouched by the mower, and apparently unseen by the guy who mows for me. Lucky lizard!!
Other suspicious patio happenings since July:
*My figurine of a little boy holding a frog, given to me by a custodian at school when my brother died, was knocked over and decapitated. I noticed it right after the lawn was mowed, but my "mower" didn't say anything about it. It's a clean break. I hope to be able to repair it.
*My little squirrel figurine keeps getting knocked off the yard bench. He's pretty heavy. I'd be surprised if the wind does it...but who knows? Ghoulies and ghosties???
*The cat graveyard at the end of the patio has had all of its markers overturned... The markers are like garden stepping stones. I suspect my grandson in that deal. (When he was younger, he wanted to dig the cats up, just to see what they looked like!) Still, I'm not sure why he would turn them all over...
*Every stinkin' leaf on the Hostas in the cat graveyard have been stripped. Rabbits? Squirrels? Slugs?? All I have left are stems sticking up out of the ground. Things that go bump in the night???
*There is a live squirrel that comes by the patio frequently. He approaches me closely without fear, which indicates to me that someone is feeding him and he thinks I will provide dinner. Now I wonder if I should buy food for him, or just let him go on his way...
*In the past couple of days, I have seen squirrels, cottontail rabbits, and adult raccoons running for cover in my neighbor's back yard...and mine. I don't mind the rabbits and squirrels, but I DO mind the raccoons. I don't like surprises! Raccoons are just as cute as they can be when they are babies, but they turn into vicious marauders as adults and can do a lot of damage...or make big messes. I suspect they are living under the neighbor's minibarn. Ugh!
Having lunch with a friend tomorrow. That will get me out of My World (and welcome to it) for a little while. In the meantime, I just keep on pluggin'!
Friday, October 19, 2012
The Fine Line...
Oscar Levant once quipped, "There is a fine line between genius and insanity. I have erased that line."
DISCLAIMER: Any resemblance to persons living or dead, except where noted, is purely coincidental. :)
Until I started to write this, I had no idea who first stated the quote about "the fine line between genius and insanity", but I have used it all of my adult life to describe my brother. Since then, I have come to know a number of people who seem to have one foot on either side of that line. I believe that every person on the planet knows at least ONE person like that. Sometimes, we call them simply "eccentric".
What I have noticed about these people is that they are most always brilliant, in their own ways, but trapped in quirky behaviors due to what they believe about life. Some are legends in their own minds. Others are more modest--even reclusive. One thing that they all have in common is certain anti-social behavior in that they don't seem to care what other people think of them. They lack the need to conform to society's rules. Some of the rest of us scratch our heads, wondering what makes these folks tick. A few envy the eccentric ones, wishing they could live with such abandon, but knowing they can't. It isn't in their nature. Still, I believe to the core of my being, that those among us who are eccentric feel "different" somehow...and might have been bullied in life, or at the very least consider themselves outside of normal. Regardless of the reasons, these people often end up isolated, depressed, self-medicated with drugs or alcohol, and living out their fears of abandonment or failure.
Once in awhile, these eccentric people cross the line and go "postal". Then people start screaming about who is to blame. Didn't the parents see the problems? Why weren't the police notified? Who hid the fact that these people had issues??? Contrary to popular belief, going to jail does NOT provide psychological help. The last time I looked, being a loner isn't against the law. And even if you recognized that a loved one had mental problems, have you priced psychiatric/psychological services lately? Insurance doesn't always treat mental illnesses in the same way that it treats physical illnesses.
The absolute worst part is that, though families are aware of the problems, there is no real help for them. Oh, you can get on the Internet and read all about mental disorders and how they can be treated, if you have the funds, but nowhere is there a manual about how to react when things happen. Your loved one has Alzheimer's or dementia? There is info about what to expect, but nothing about what to do about it. You suspect that your loved one is about to do something bad? The law can't do a thing about until he/she actually does. Anxiety/Depression? Our only inclination is to tell them to snap out of it, which only makes things worse. Medicine isn't always the answer.
So what IS the answer? I wish I knew! I watch Dr. Phil a lot, and I know that many people who are suffering from one mental problem or another are met with offers of "resources" that would cost tens-of-thousands of $$ if they weren't on the show. What about the rest of the world? Is mental health important to us? Does anyone understand? Does anyone really care???
DISCLAIMER: Any resemblance to persons living or dead, except where noted, is purely coincidental. :)
Until I started to write this, I had no idea who first stated the quote about "the fine line between genius and insanity", but I have used it all of my adult life to describe my brother. Since then, I have come to know a number of people who seem to have one foot on either side of that line. I believe that every person on the planet knows at least ONE person like that. Sometimes, we call them simply "eccentric".
What I have noticed about these people is that they are most always brilliant, in their own ways, but trapped in quirky behaviors due to what they believe about life. Some are legends in their own minds. Others are more modest--even reclusive. One thing that they all have in common is certain anti-social behavior in that they don't seem to care what other people think of them. They lack the need to conform to society's rules. Some of the rest of us scratch our heads, wondering what makes these folks tick. A few envy the eccentric ones, wishing they could live with such abandon, but knowing they can't. It isn't in their nature. Still, I believe to the core of my being, that those among us who are eccentric feel "different" somehow...and might have been bullied in life, or at the very least consider themselves outside of normal. Regardless of the reasons, these people often end up isolated, depressed, self-medicated with drugs or alcohol, and living out their fears of abandonment or failure.
Once in awhile, these eccentric people cross the line and go "postal". Then people start screaming about who is to blame. Didn't the parents see the problems? Why weren't the police notified? Who hid the fact that these people had issues??? Contrary to popular belief, going to jail does NOT provide psychological help. The last time I looked, being a loner isn't against the law. And even if you recognized that a loved one had mental problems, have you priced psychiatric/psychological services lately? Insurance doesn't always treat mental illnesses in the same way that it treats physical illnesses.
The absolute worst part is that, though families are aware of the problems, there is no real help for them. Oh, you can get on the Internet and read all about mental disorders and how they can be treated, if you have the funds, but nowhere is there a manual about how to react when things happen. Your loved one has Alzheimer's or dementia? There is info about what to expect, but nothing about what to do about it. You suspect that your loved one is about to do something bad? The law can't do a thing about until he/she actually does. Anxiety/Depression? Our only inclination is to tell them to snap out of it, which only makes things worse. Medicine isn't always the answer.
So what IS the answer? I wish I knew! I watch Dr. Phil a lot, and I know that many people who are suffering from one mental problem or another are met with offers of "resources" that would cost tens-of-thousands of $$ if they weren't on the show. What about the rest of the world? Is mental health important to us? Does anyone understand? Does anyone really care???
Thursday, October 18, 2012
How I Spent My Last Two Weeks, by Peggy
I got to poking around on this "new" blog site and discovered all kinds of comments on my blatherings that I didn't even know existed. You mean people actually read this?? Amazing!!
I just returned on Monday from a 2-week trip to northern Illinois to visit my daughter and grandchildren. My original plan was to be there for a week, but one thing led to another, and I ended up staying two weeks, plus a day. I have had queries from local friends about "Are you going to move up there????" No...I'm not. I'm just a sucker for family.
My daughter, in her usual panic mode, told me that she had SO MUCH to do before her Russian in-laws arrive at the end of November for a 6-week visit. So, ever wishing to be helpful, I showed up and we made a list. For awhile, Megan was busy with a little business that she is working on, so I started out on my own. Keep in mind, that the grandchildren were there mostly on the weekends. The rest of the time, I did what I could. Here is the short list of what was accomplished:
*Two rounds of major laundry...washing, drying, sorting, folding, hanging.
*Occasional cooking. Daily kitchen cleaning.
*Cleaning and sorting in both of the grandchilren's bedrooms. Including going through every stitch of clothing to put away summer weight stuff and bring out winter weight things, hoping some of them will still fit.
*Purchasing a set of plastic shelves to put in Robin's closet to store a lot of her clap-trap.
*Purchasing a cheap wardrobe to put in Ryan's room in order to hang clothes and provide some privacy. (Ryan's room is an open space at the top of the stairs in the townhouse--no door and no closet. He complained about lack of privacy. We put the "wardrobe" against the stair railing to help provide privacy, and turned his dresser perpendicular to the wall for more.)
*Purchasing and hanging a dual bulletin board/white board for both kids' rooms. I think they liked those the most!
*Purchasing a set of steel shelving (an upgrade from the usual) for the garage, and some tubs to help Megan remove craft supplies from the house.
*Mending some clothing that was in need of machine stitching.
*Shopping with Ryan to help him spend his $15. (Doesn't matter how he got it.)
*Shopping with Robin to complete her Halloween costume, including white shoes (which we just luckily fell into because they are out of season), tights, glitter spray, etc. Also finding doll stands at Hobby Lobby for her Monster High dolls.
*Taking Robin to Zion for a library showing of "The Hunger Games", which she has already seen and read...and being there as she won two prizes for a trivia quiz and dressing the most like a character from the movie.
*A trip to Schaumburg to Dick Blick's to purchase crafty things for Meg's little business.
*Watching two soccer games for my g-kids. I skipped out on the third which was actually rained out. No biggie.
I'm sure there is more. I just can't think of it all. We could have done more had there been more money and time, but I didn't feel bad about what "we" got done.
It kept me busy and feeling useful. My son-in-law doesn't seem to mind my being there. One advantage to my presence is that there is a second vehicle. That helps!
The holidays will be a challenge. I think the family will be here for Thanksgiving, but then I will be cat-sitting at my house for their feline while they go to Florida to meet up with the Russian in-laws and Megan's father, whom she hasn't seen in a couple of years. After that, Luda and Sergey will spend a few days with me before Christmas without their son...our only Russian interpreter. Pray for me!!
Yesterday, one of my really good radio friends came over to help winterize the storm doors on my house. I'm not sure what I would have done through the years without KB9RAF and his fix-it skills. I am so blessed with friends who care! Some day, maybe I can find a way to return the favors that have been given me.
I love the fall of the year. Am trying to be as useful at my own house as I was at my daughter's. Want to take bets??
I just returned on Monday from a 2-week trip to northern Illinois to visit my daughter and grandchildren. My original plan was to be there for a week, but one thing led to another, and I ended up staying two weeks, plus a day. I have had queries from local friends about "Are you going to move up there????" No...I'm not. I'm just a sucker for family.
My daughter, in her usual panic mode, told me that she had SO MUCH to do before her Russian in-laws arrive at the end of November for a 6-week visit. So, ever wishing to be helpful, I showed up and we made a list. For awhile, Megan was busy with a little business that she is working on, so I started out on my own. Keep in mind, that the grandchildren were there mostly on the weekends. The rest of the time, I did what I could. Here is the short list of what was accomplished:
*Two rounds of major laundry...washing, drying, sorting, folding, hanging.
*Occasional cooking. Daily kitchen cleaning.
*Cleaning and sorting in both of the grandchilren's bedrooms. Including going through every stitch of clothing to put away summer weight stuff and bring out winter weight things, hoping some of them will still fit.
*Purchasing a set of plastic shelves to put in Robin's closet to store a lot of her clap-trap.
*Purchasing a cheap wardrobe to put in Ryan's room in order to hang clothes and provide some privacy. (Ryan's room is an open space at the top of the stairs in the townhouse--no door and no closet. He complained about lack of privacy. We put the "wardrobe" against the stair railing to help provide privacy, and turned his dresser perpendicular to the wall for more.)
*Purchasing and hanging a dual bulletin board/white board for both kids' rooms. I think they liked those the most!
*Purchasing a set of steel shelving (an upgrade from the usual) for the garage, and some tubs to help Megan remove craft supplies from the house.
*Mending some clothing that was in need of machine stitching.
*Shopping with Ryan to help him spend his $15. (Doesn't matter how he got it.)
*Shopping with Robin to complete her Halloween costume, including white shoes (which we just luckily fell into because they are out of season), tights, glitter spray, etc. Also finding doll stands at Hobby Lobby for her Monster High dolls.
*Taking Robin to Zion for a library showing of "The Hunger Games", which she has already seen and read...and being there as she won two prizes for a trivia quiz and dressing the most like a character from the movie.
*A trip to Schaumburg to Dick Blick's to purchase crafty things for Meg's little business.
*Watching two soccer games for my g-kids. I skipped out on the third which was actually rained out. No biggie.
I'm sure there is more. I just can't think of it all. We could have done more had there been more money and time, but I didn't feel bad about what "we" got done.
It kept me busy and feeling useful. My son-in-law doesn't seem to mind my being there. One advantage to my presence is that there is a second vehicle. That helps!
The holidays will be a challenge. I think the family will be here for Thanksgiving, but then I will be cat-sitting at my house for their feline while they go to Florida to meet up with the Russian in-laws and Megan's father, whom she hasn't seen in a couple of years. After that, Luda and Sergey will spend a few days with me before Christmas without their son...our only Russian interpreter. Pray for me!!
Yesterday, one of my really good radio friends came over to help winterize the storm doors on my house. I'm not sure what I would have done through the years without KB9RAF and his fix-it skills. I am so blessed with friends who care! Some day, maybe I can find a way to return the favors that have been given me.
I love the fall of the year. Am trying to be as useful at my own house as I was at my daughter's. Want to take bets??
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