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Mr. and Mrs. Thomas

2011-05-07T22:42:00.005-04:00

I saw Mr. and Mrs. Thomas today. They didn't see me. I was in my car, and they were at their van, loading and unloading Mr. Thomas's scooter and wheelchair, then getting in and driving away. I knew it was her because I had crossed paths with her a few years ago at the YMCA pool and we spoke briefly. Mrs. Thomas was my 10th grade math teacher. Mr. Thomas had been the school sports team photographer who remembered the name of everyone he'd ever met even once, including mine. As I watched them from a distance, they were all smiles and ease with eachother, just like I remembered them from high school.

Mr. and Mrs. Thomas were the first black/white interracial couple I knew. I met them individually before realizing that they were married. (The photo of their teenage son on Mrs. Thomas's desk led to the ah-ha moment.) I knew nothing of the state of their marriage, of course, but they seemed happy when I saw them at school, and once when I ran into them at the mall when I was still in high school. In college, I thought of them when I started to date Firmin, and then later when a fellow student informed me (with that smug tone that girls half in love with their professors adopt) that Professor So-and-So didn't believe interracial marriages could work in the United States. Of course Professor So-and-So was a black man divorced from a white woman who apparently found it easier to be a psudo-victim than simply a failure at marriage. But I was only 20 then, and his pronouncement gave me pause. The memory of Mr. and Mrs. Thomas gave me hope.

When I met Mrs. Thomas at the pool a couple years ago, I wondered about her husband. It had been so many years -- enough for even a once-happy marriage to have bottomed out or for death to change everything. For fear of causing pain or embarrassment, I didn't ask. So today, when I saw her with the man on the scooter, I leaned forward and squinted. He was in shadow that made his skin color hard to discern and I didn't have a good view of his face. Plus, I saw Mr. Thomas less frequently than his wife when I was a teenager. She stood in front of me daily for a year, while he took my cheer leading photos a few times and said "Hi, Stephanie!" like he was really, truly glad to see me on the rare occasions we crossed paths. I couldn't swear in a courtroom that the man I saw today was Mr. Thomas, but when the spring sunlight caught his brown skin, his salt and pepper hair, and his warm smile, I was as sure as I needed to be. Most of all, the two of them together just looked like Mr. and Mrs. Thomas. They exuded the same easy camaraderie and affection, the same friendliness and sense of stability. I was so happy to see them. They still give me hope.

The Cream Rises to the Top

2011-02-23T16:30:00.002-05:00

Oh how I love skimming fresh cream off the top of the jar of milk! Unless we're on our last jar, cream is always ready to hand when we need it. Most of it goes into the cream whipper to top our mochas and hot cocoas. Sometimes a little goes into mashed potatoes, or a desert recipe. Occasionally I make sour cream or butter with it.

Did our parents' and grandparents' generation really give up this little luxury just to avoid having to shake the jug a couple of times before pouring the milk? Surely not. Probably homogenization* was was an industry convenience. Whatever the reason, it's a loss. A small one, sure, but a loss none the less.

*Homogenization is the process of pulverizing the milk fat so that it stays suspended in the more watery portion of the milk, rather than rising to the top as it does naturally. It is not related to pasteurization, which is the process of heating the milk to kill any potentially harmful pathogens. Most milk at the grocery store is both pasteurized and homogenized.

Looking to the Future

2011-01-22T22:49:00.004-05:00

Getting one child alone with you in the car can result in some rare and wonderful conversations that just don't otherwise happen in the middle of bustling family life. Eight-year-old Alexander and I had one of those conversations the other day as we made the short drive to MSU. The topic was global warming and the future of humanity. We covered a lot of ground in 15 minutes! It should have been 10 minutes, but I got so engrossed in our dialog that I turned the wrong way a couple of times out of habit, thus lengthening our journey a little. :o)

Alexander started things off by casually observing that all our efforts to reduce pollution only seem to result in more pollution. We explored that a bit. He had a couple of mis-conceptions, but over all, his feeling that not enough change is happening is certainly valid. He very candidly said that he doesn't think we are going to stop global warming. He doesn't think we are doing enough, and he doesn't see people and businesses willing to do more. With all the happy talk directed at kids about "going green" and "saving the planet", this surprised me a little. It also impressed me as an astute observation for an 8 year old.

"So what do you think will happen?" I asked. He didn't know. We talked about pessimistic predictions, optimistic predictions, best- and worst-case scenarios, winners and losers, and points in between. I told him a little about peak oil theory and confessed my reluctant suspicion that maybe we should be listening more to the folks warning us to get ready for a very different way of life. He worried about being hot, but thought that the weather changes could be a boon to farmers in places that are colder now. While he expressed pessimism about our ability to curb global warming at this time, he is somewhat optimistic that humankind will adapt to the major changes that are coming, both through our behavior and with new technology. He is not very worried.

The situation may, perhaps, warrant more worry, but his outlook warms my heart. We need our young people to retain their optimism, even as they try to grasp the enormity of the problems. Whatever adaptations and technology come to our aid, it will be my son's generation (and those that follow) that will implement them and most benefit from them. They will begin -- whether out of intelligent foresight or desperate necessity -- to deal with the problems that their great-great grandparents started, and that their grandparents and parents refused to do much about.

Pictures of my People!

2010-09-19T12:45:00.006-04:00

A really fun part of genealogy research is finding photos and portraits of ancestors that you've learned something about. After my post the other day, I realized that I had pictures of several of the individuals I mentioned. I thought it might be fun to share some of them, plus one or two more that are just interesting or fun. If you haven't read the previous post, you might want to do that now, as I will refer to some of the stories I told there.

Remember the illegitimate son of an English nobleman who indentured himself to a Quaker family to come to America? Well here he is, Philip Packer Jr.:
Presumably, this portrait was painted before he came to the wilderness of Pennsylvania, probably when he was still living off his father's money. His father had holdings and business interests in Ireland, and he seems to have kept his little family there quite comfortable. When his first wife died, he married his mistress, Sara Isgar and brought her to his English home. However, since all of his children by her were born prior to their marriage, the children had to make their own way after Daddy's death. His children by his first wife got the estate. Here are Philip Packer, Esq., and the lovely Sarah Isgar, my 10th great grandparents:

Those of you with exceptional memories may have noticed that Eli and Ann Packer were the names of my last Quaker ancestors who died in Gratiot County Michigan in the 1800's. Eli was a direct descendant of these peolple. Philip Jr. became Quaker in Pennsylvania while serving his Quaker master. Perhaps the master had something to do with it, but I suspect the young woman he wanted to marry there had even more influence on his conversion!

Below is Groombridge place, the family home that Philip Packer Sr. re-built outside London in the 1660's. Packer was apparently an architect, a contemporary and friend of Sir Christopher Wren. The grounds are open to the public today, and the 2005 movie, Pride and Prejudice, was filmed there.

The picture below is an illustration of the adventurer with the Persian family meeting with the Indian Mogul in Agra, India circa 1604. His name was John Mildenhall (the family name later became Mendenhall), and his story is so fantastic that I have trouble believing it. It includes passing himself off to the Indian court as the ambassador of Queen Elizabeth I (he was not) and securing trading rights which he later sold to the recently formed British East India Company. Crazy! But apparently true! He is even buried in the oldest English grave in India. You can visit his tombstone there.

On to more normal (and recent) people:

Here is my Great-Grandfather, my maternal grandmother's father, a cute little boy who grew up to have a rather sad and hard life:

Alexander Franklin Fraser

Below are his parents, Bertha Harpham and Clarence Joseph Fraser (of Scottish descent). Clarence was a good deal older than Bertha, and she was widowed young, with no money and several young children. She also had physical and perhaps mental health problems. Her life story -- what I've been able to piece together of it -- is quite painful. Unfortunately, her children suffered right along with her -- a pain that was passed down for a couple of generations until my grandma and her siblings eventually seemed to pull things back together in their own adult lives.

Bertha's mother died when she was only 4 years old, and her father seems to have disappeared from her life at that point. Her mother's mother had died years before in childbirth. So Bertha was was raised by her mother's father, Franklin Squire and his 3rd wife. This 3rd wife had charge of several of Franklin's children and grandchildren by his previous marriages in addition to her own babies as they came along. Plus, for a time, her aging father *and* Franklin's aging father, both in their 80's, were living with the family. Even if her step-grandmother was a saint (and how many of us would be, under those conditions?), I don't imagine poor little Bertha got as much love and attention as every child needs. Her vivid unhappiness in later life, which living family members still recall as their strongest memory of her, is sadly suggestive.

Franklin Squire himself was a busy man outside the home. Not only did he have a rather large farm to tend, he was the early leader of the Michigan Seventh Day Adventist Church that I mentioned the other day. This is a portrait of him:

And last, but not least, I just had to include this picture of my maternal Grandfather's Grandmother. (My g-g grandmother.)
Don't you LOVE the hat? This is Mamie Gooderham Salisbury Harvey Cutler. (Well not Cutler yet in this picture -- he came later.) Based on clues, I believe this may have been her wedding photo when she married her 2nd husband, Samuel Harvey, in 1910 in Grand Rapids, Michigan. She was divorced from my g-g grandfather at that time. I believe my he may have been a scoundrel! If I am right on the date of the picture, she is about 39 -- very close to my age right now. :o) My mother remembers visiting Mamie a few times as a child. In her later years, Mamie and her 3rd husband lived very near Tiger Stadium in Detroit. That whole side of my grandpa's family were big Tiger fans! They would meet at Mamie's house and walk down to the games.

Patterns of My People

2010-09-17T01:06:00.000-04:00

So I haven't blogged all summer! In large part, it's because I've been spending most of my discretionary computer time (as well as some time I should have been doing other things) researching my family history. A couple of readers have expressed interest in reading about what I found. I've found a lot, and believe me, you don't want to hear it all! Even to my own family the details can be overwhelming, so I won't go there much, in spite of the fascination some of those details hold for me.

Instead, I want pull the focus back and show you the entire tapestry, because, rather wondrously, I've discovered that there are clear patterns and trends, even across disparate family branches and several centuries. Detailed information about individuals has been amazing to discover, but these patterns feel more significant to my sense of self. I don't feel like a different person or anything, but I do have a stronger sense of belonging to a larger story. I could go on about that, but I won't for now -- maybe another day. Perhaps also another day, I'll share how I got started on this journey, if people are interested. I've only been doing it for a few months now and I'm still a little in awe of how much I've learned about my heritage in that short span of time.

For now however, here's a bird's eye view of the landscape and the people who gave me birth:

1) America's story is my story. Before I began this project, I thought that my family in America would trace back no further than the early - mid 1800's. Most of the immigration stories I knew about came from this period. Indeed, most of the branches of my family did immigrate during the 19th century. However, one of the earliest discoveries I made was that I had many ancestors who came to Pennsylvania on ships commissioned by William Penn to bring Quaker settlers to his new charter colony in the 1680's.* One even came as an indentured servant, which no doubt seems more romantic and adventurous to me than it did to him! He was the bastard son of an English nobleman who couldn't inherit a dime, poor guy. That was on my father's side. Later, I discovered that some of my mother's ancestors were in colonial New England as early as the1630's! Can't get much more "founding father" than that unless your people came on the Mayflower. So I'm all in, right from the start -- the good, the bad and the ugly of our country's history is my history as well. That's something I didn't know until just a few months ago.

* I did not have even the faintest inkling of my Quaker ancestors when I became a Quaker a few years ago. The last practicing Quakers in the family, Eli and Ann Packer, died in Gratiot County, Michigan 1867 and 1871. The faith did not survive in the second generation in central Michigan, probably because there were no Friends Meetings there at that time. Although Eli and Ann both had Quaker ancestry reaching all the way back to the time of George Fox, the memory of our Quaker roots was lost in my father's family until I uncovered it this spring. I got to share this information at the family reunion this summer, so now it is remembered again. :o)

2) I come from rural and village people. My ancestors were farmers (many, many farmers), blacksmiths, millers, small-town day laborers, wool packers, weavers, etc. These were the professions of the men, of course, but my female ancestors were of the same stock -- they were the daughters, and then wives of the men who plied these trades. The women's lives are, if anything, even easier to imagine, as they likely varied less according to the trade of their men. They were gardeners, food preparers, livestock tenders, dress-makers, healers, neighbors, friends, pioneers, and perhaps most predominantly, mothers. They were the mothers of 5, 8, 10, 14 children. Most of them, until more recent generations, buried at least one child and sometimes several. A number of them gave their own lives for posterity, dying in childbirth or from complications thereof. These women married later than I'd been led to believe by popular history. Certainly, there were a few 17 and 18 year old brides, but not all that many. 19 was a more common age, with many entering their first marriage in their early 20's, and marrying men who were, on average, just a few years older. (There were some exceptions of course, especially where a man who was a widower wed a never-before-married young woman.)

My nearly complete lack of urban roots did surprise me a bit, given the broad scope of time and places and people involved. Yet even those who disembarked on American shores in New York City seemed to have set out for the country nearly immediately. My few wealthy and well-connected ancestors (remember the bastard son?) were landed gentry -- rich country folk, but still country. With nearly 500 individuals in my family tree so far (not all of those are direct descendants -- some are siblings, etc.) I can think of only one branch of the family that seemed to stay in a city for several generations, and that was colonial Springfield, Massachusetts. I'm not sure if Springfield counted as a "big city" back then or not! It was certainly not rural much beyond the founding years, however.

3) I don't have a single ancestor who came through Ellis Island. So many people ask about this! It's one of the first questions I got at family reunions this summer: "Do we have any family who came through Ellis Island?" Nope. Many people don't realize that Ellis Island didn't open as an immigration point until 1892. (I didn't know this either, until I looked it up.) All the branches of my family were in the New World by that time, save one: my Norwegian great-great grandfather was a stow away on a cargo ship in 1898. I believe he simply slipped off the boat and into the crowds on the dock. An undocumented immigrant...

4) I am a Northerner. So far, I've found not a single direct connection to the American South or West. Michigan, Ohio, New York, Massachusetts, Pennsylvania and Ontario account for probably 90% of my North-American born family members. The remaining 10% would be from a few other New England states, Quebec, and Indiana. I think that about covers it. Certainly some of my ancestors' descendants or siblings migrated south and west, but no one that led to me, as far as I know. I may have a Native American g-g-g grandmother, but I have only the say-so of my great-grandmother and her sister regarding this, and they are no longer around to interrogate. I know how often this kind of family lore is untrue, so I'd very much like to prove it or disprove it somehow. But even if it's true, she was said to be Ojibway, so still a Northerner!

5) My European ancestors were northerners as well, from England, Scotland, the pre-German states, Ireland, Eastern France, Norway, Finland. No Spaniards, no Italians, no Austrians, no eastern Europeans. One long-ago ancestor, who was quite the adventurer, had a Persian wife and children to whom he left his entire estate when he died. Nice for them, but I'm sure it didn't go down well with his English wife and family, from whom I am descended! So no Persians either, darn it! ;o)

6) No Catholics. I have not been able to confirm a single Catholic ancestor thus far. I do have some Irish potato-famine immigrants (on my father's side) whose religion I don't know, but my earlier Irish immigrant ancestors were protestants. I do know that by the second generation in American, my potato-famine Irish folks were not practicing Catholics, so I don't feel I can assume that Irish = Catholic in their case. Of course going back before the Reformation (which I have not done) most of my European ancestors would have been Catholic, but clearly we've been Protestant (or non-religious in some cases) for a very long time.

7) And the Protestants were often outliers! With Quakers and Restorationists on my father's side, and Puritans and Seventh Day Adventists on my mothers side, I seem to come by my contrary religious tendencies naturally!* One Puritan ancestor converted to Baptist very early on in the Massachusetts Bay Colony and was involved in Baptist "church planting" north of Boston. Baptists might seem pretty mainstream today, but his erstwhile fellow Puritans didn't think so in the 16oo's! One of this Baptist's descendants became a prominent leader in the early Seventh Day Adventist Church in Michigan. Another (the sister of the Adventist) became a follower of Joseph Smith and married an early Mormon elder. (It's thanks to her descendants that this branch of the family is so well researched!)

8) I don't know as much as I would like to know. A sad, but predictable truth: Most of my ancestors remain anonymous to me. I might know when and where they were born or died, how many children they had and perhaps what they did for a living, but that is all. Some left tantalizing clues, such as the obituary of a 4th great grandmother which contains this phrase: "Though surrounded my many depressing conditions, she won and held the respect of all..." I long to know what the "depressing conditions" were, but I probably never will.

9) I know more about some ancestors than I ever dreamed possible. I literally put my face in my hands and gave a little sob when I read this about my 10th great grandmother: "Marjorie was moderately active in the Women's Meeting at Middletown (PA). She served on five marriage clearness committees and one committee to labor with a friend who had failed to uphold Friends' principles." Reading about her serving on clearness committees for marriage over 300 years ago -- something I might do today in the very same tradition -- made her suddenly seem very real and dear to me. Here are some other things I know about Marjorie: Her first husband (my 10th great grandfather) died very shortly after their arrival in Pennsylvania, leaving 30-something Marjorie with 6 children, ages 16, 15, 14, 9, 6, and 3. She remarried (quickly!) in 1684 to a man whose wife had died on the voyage to Pennsylvania. Theirs was the first marriage under the care of Middletown Friends Meeting, which still exists today. Later in life she and her husband became involved in a painful schism among Friends, but Marjorie was later reconciled and was buried in Middletown Friends Cemetery. Her husband never came back into unity with Friends, but his step-son -- the one who had been 6 when his biological father died -- requested that he be buried next to Marjorie. The request was granted. Perhaps only other Friends will appreciate how easy and satisfying it is for me to imagine this request being brought before the Men's Meeting by a loving son, the ensuing Spirit-led deliberation among those in attendance, and the gracious outcome. I think about Marjorie sometimes as I'm going about my daily life and wonder what she would think of me and my world.

10) The tapestry grows exponentially. I'm struck by this: My mother's ancestry -- all of it -- is only half of mine. Same for my father, of course. My grandparents each share only a quarter. My two sisters and I are the only people on Earth who share this specific history as our full heritage, yet we share many of our more recent ancestors with hundreds of others, and each of our distant ancestors with thousands or even millions of people alive today. Our children share our lineage as well, but they have double the number of ancestors we do! My own children's ancestry stitches on the Caribbean Islands and the continent of Africa, making their lineage stretch across nearly half the globe. My youngest sister's new baby will someday trace his father's roots through Mexico and on to wherever else that leads him -- probably Spain, other places in southern Europe, and Indigenous Mezo-America.

The richness of all of this astounds me. I may have traced only a couple of family branches back to the 16th century, but of course they all go back that far, and farther: to the beginning of civilization, to the beginning of humanity itself. We are also growing forward. Someday, about 300 years from now, my 10th great granddaughters will walk this earth, perhaps here in Michigan, perhaps in a far-off land. Probably both, as I'm likely to have quite a few 10th great grandchildren! I will be a tiny part of their tapestries, woven in with all those who came before me, and all those yet to come, gathered and joined to another whole cloth with every generation in an ever-growing family.

They Were Good... and Flawed

2010-05-04T23:03:00.004-04:00

This is the book I'm reading now. I'm enjoying it on an intellectual level -- it's written in a scholarly, yet accessible way. On a personal level, it's by turns inspiring and disheartening. The author, John Moretta, is writing as a historian, rather than a Quaker. (He is not a Quaker, as far as I know.) Thus, in addition to relating the bravery, sacrifices and accomplishments of Penn and early Friends, he has no qualms about pointing out the ways in which they failed to live up to their ideals in the New World. The "Holy Experiment" was not exactly a smashing success. Moretta is not censorious about this; he reminds readers of the conditions -- social, geographic, demographic, historical -- that make their difficulties easier to understand.

Nevertheless, I can't help but feel bad for Penn and the early settlers. They were so sincere in their desire to do things right -- to be an example of what Love and Light can do and to model tolerance and harmony among diverse groups of Christians. Guess what they did instead? They behaved like human beings. Penn played the class card much too heavily and got huffy when the farmers and artisans who mostly populated his colony resented him for it. For their part, the colonists almost immediately challenged Penn's authority over the colony and flaunted laws in such a way that the king threatened to rescind Penn's charter. This could have meant the end of the religious toleration they so cherished, among other things. (In their almost allergic reaction to authority and their refusal to be "managed", I reflected that modern Quakers must come by this trait naturally!) Once the colonial Assembly in Pennsylvania managed to wrest control almost completely from Penn, the leaders in the Assembly set about consolidating their power: changing voting requirements so as to disenfranchise many non-Quakers in Philadelphia and lower the bar for rural residents, who were largely Quaker.

Sigh.

Plus some of them owned African slaves at this time, and few were speaking out against it. but that's old news to me. I was prepared for *that*. What I wasn't prepared for was all the mundane ways in which they were..., well, kinda like Quakers today. They were righteous in all the good and bad senses of that word. They loved God. They disagreed about what "God" was, but they loved It/Him. They took their values seriously and tried to live up to them. They failed at that sometimes. They got jealous and nursed grudges, then realized how painful and wrong that was and made up. (Or not.) They got involved in religious schisms. They griped about Penn behind his back, then happily threw him a big party and parade when he finally showed up after too many years in England. Penn griped about the colonists to his friends, but he clearly loved them and was distressed and genuinely surprised when they exhibited un-Friendly behaviors. They judged and forgave. Families could be harmonious or troubled or both, depending on the day/month/year.

Someone in my Meeting gave spoken ministry this week about how "the universe doesn't keep score", and how that was liberating for him. I immediately thought of this book and about how we humans LOVE to keep score. We can't seem to help it. Even by being inspired by and disappointed in my Quaker forebears, I'm engaging in a kind of score-keeping: Went to prison for beliefs -- 10 pts.; treated Native Americans like fellow humans -- 10 pts.; lobbied for religious toleration (even for Catholics!) -- 5 pts.; didn't decry slavery soon enough -- minus 15 pts.; bickered too much -- minus 3 pts.; Penn a bit of an elitist/colonists bitchy about it -- minus 5 pts.; etc.

The fact is, people (and groups of people) with high ideals get held to a higher standard -- maybe not by the universe, but by other people, and usually themselves as well. That's how it should be. Yet what should be our response when they/we fall or fail? Should we proclaim "hypocracy" and make snide comments? Should we forgive all? Perhaps we should simply Love, and tell the truth. Great -- that's one more ideal to live up to!

I'm looking forward to any comments on this one. There is more to be said about what good can be accomplished simply by trying, not dependent on succeeding, among other things. I may add my own comments as I think more about it, but it's past midnight as I write this and I can feel my brain shutting down... Good night!

Privilege vs. Freedom

2010-04-08T13:34:00.005-04:00

I've been mulling over the meaning of the word “privilege” lately. I've been seeing this word tossed around rather carelessly, often with good intentions, but sometimes as a kind of verbal weapon, and sometimes in a confusing way. I've been thinking that it would be helpful (for me, and perhaps for others) to be more clear about what privilege is and what it is not.

What is Privilege?

Privilege, to me, connotes a special treatment or ability that is not available to everyone, and could not be available to everyone, due to resource, time or space limitations, or issues of practicality or good social order.

Some privileges are granted, based on merit, wealth, social status, charm, or just luck. Getting to sit next to the CEO at the company dinner, being let "off the hook" for a rule violation because you are cute and flirty, getting a second interview because someone recommended you for the job, and boarding a plane first because you have children with you, or because you bought a first-class ticket are all examples of privileges that are granted to some people. These may be seen as reasonable or unreasonable, fair or unfair, but they are all situations where only some people can get special treatment. Decisions must be made regarding who will get the special treatment, if anyone.

Other privileges are simply claimed or taken by force by people who have the power or wealth to do so. Insisting on special treatment at a retail store (and getting it), eating only the choicest cuts of meat at the finest restaurants, using more than one's fair share of fossil fuels, and owning the latest technology gadget are all privileges that are claimed or forced. Some of these are relatively harmless, and may even have some societal benefit – someone has to eat at the finest restaurants regularly if they are to be there for the middle and working classes to sample only once or twice on very special occasions. Many, however, involve an over-use of resources or space or time which results in a deficit for others. (Some granted privileges are problematic in this way as well.) Using more than my fair share of fossil fuels, as I am doing right this minute, means either that someone else does not have access to as much power as they would like, and/or that environmentally harmful fossil fuel extraction becomes more necessary and profitable.

These “real” privileges should be closely examined by those who strive for a peaceful world. In what ways do our privileges – granted or claimed – deprive others of health, well-being, resources, or control over life choices? Can we mitigate those deprivations in some way? Where and when should we decline to be privileged? When is it OK to accept a privilege as a gift or as an earned reward? Are there times when we should insist on being privileged, or on others being privileged above ourselves?

What Privilege is Not

I believe that if a form of treatment or access is, or could be, available to all, then that availability is properly understood as something other than privilege. (By “all”, I might mean all people in the world, or simply all the people in a geographical environment, depending on the context.) I don’t think there is a word that fits every example in this category, but I’m going to call them “freedoms”. Some are actually “rights”, while others might be closer to “courtesies”, but “freedoms” will do as a catch-all word for now. Some examples of freedoms that are not privileges (by my definition) would be: Being treated with friendliness and respect in a retail store; having decision-making power over one's own physical appearance; access to healthy, fresh food and water; the ability to move safely from one place to another; and being allowed to prove oneself worthy or unworthy of friendship, employment, etc. based on personality or performance rather than appearance or stereotype. Many people are routinely denied these freedoms and others, but not because of scarcity of resources. The only reason to deny these freedoms to people is human vice -- hatred, fear, greed, racism, abuse of power. (Even famine and drought are often caused or exacerbated by human vice.)

At this point, I want to bring in an example that first led me to consider a distinction between what I am calling privilege and freedom. The African American author Thandeka, in her book Learning to be White*, uses the following metaphor to describe in part the racial problem in the United States, but her example is also applicable to class, gender, and other inequalities. I will paraphrase, since I do not have the book in hand, and I want to be clear that I don't know if Thandeka would agree with my distinction between "privilege" and "freedom". This illustration makes me think she might, but I have not read all of her book -- yet! I am only using her illustration for my own purposes here; I don't want to be seen to put words in her mouth.

Thandeka imagines a society in which certain people have had their left hands maliciously cut off. As a result there is an inequality of ability between those who have lost a hand and those who still have both hands. This inequality is real and has real consequences in the society, perhaps including stigma associated with being among the group of people who had their hands cut off. Yet it's important to recognize that the norm, the ideal, is to have both hands. The situation is not that the two handed people have been unfairly advantaged, but rather that the one-handed people have been unfairly disadvantaged. The best remedy is for the society to seek ways for its one-handed citizens to function as normally and fully as possible and to work to eradicate any stigma associated with one-handedness, rather than to insist that its two-handed citizens tie one hand behind their back for the sake of "fairness".

I think this example provides an important insight into how we define privilege, as well as how we react to the denial of freedom. Often – though not always – what is termed racial or gender or class “privilege” is actually only the absence of oppression. Surely the cure for oppression is not more oppression! Yet when others are denied freedoms that we enjoy, or when we are denied freedoms that others enjoy, the inequality is bitterly felt and resentment is an understandable by-product. What are we to do? Can we enjoy freedoms that are not denied to us, while maintaining awareness that others are not free in the same way? In what ways can we use our access to freedoms to open those freedoms to more people? If we are denied a freedom, how can we work for or insist on change in a positive direction? When is it appropriate to temporarily decline a freedom for ourselves in order to bring awareness and change to an oppressive system or circumstance? When we do decline a freedom in protest, are we clear that we are working in a positive direction toward more freedom, rather than a negative direction of less freedom for all? How can those with broad freedom partner with those who are oppressed in some way?

A Word About Gray Areas

I am aware that there are many gray areas in this topic. One that jumps immediately to mind is the conundrum of access to quality, fresh food. Is my access to high quality, even organic food a privilege based on wealth, or a freedom that all should have? Probably a little of both. It’s a travesty that many communities with high poverty rates (and relatively low car ownership) have no easily accessible grocery store. Food deserts deny people the freedom to choose good quality food -- especially produce -- but the idea that someone should choose lower quality produce than they can afford simply because some people are unable to access it is silly. It’s also a good way to drive producers of high quality food out of business! That said, access to organic breakfast cereal is probably properly understood as a luxury. It gets trickier than that though: Does buying tropical fruit contribute to my taking of natural resources above and beyond my fair share, or am I participating in an important part of the global economy that provides important opportunities to developing countries? You can see how the thought process can go on and on. Just because all of the answers aren’t neat and tidy, however, doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t think about the questions.

So What?

I believe this issue of privilege vs. freedom is more than an issue of semantics. I think the confusion of these terms makes public discussion of difficult topics like race and class more difficult. I notice that people who struggle with lack of power in their lives are likely to be hostile to the suggestion that their freedoms are in fact privileges. This is not surprising and not even objectionable when you employ the distinction I’m advocating. Many people in fact experience very little true privilege, and they are unwilling to give up their freedoms simply because someone else is denied them. Advocates of social change are more likely to win people to their side if the effort is seen as an expansion of freedom for *all* and a push-back against abused true privilege, rather than a re-shuffling of comforts in a zero-sum game. I’m hopeful that more careful use of the term “privilege” will result in more clear communication and understanding when we talk about equality and peace and human dignity.

*RCF Friends, we have this book in our Meeting library

Sorry for such a long silence

2010-03-18T22:19:00.002-04:00

I apologize for such a long time between posts right now. This blog has been on my mind, and a few ideas for posts have been percolating, but for some reason they don't want to come out on the page/screen right now. Please stay tuned and I'll keep trying. In the mean time, happy Spring! Tomorrow is equinox and I couldn't be happier about that. Day. Light.

Cooking with my Science Girl

2010-01-27T19:48:00.001-05:00

Most people who cook as much as I do probably already know about Cooks Illustrated -- one of the coolest magazines on the planet -- but I just discovered it this month. The only explanation I can come up with for not finding it sooner is that the cover (art and wording) is pretty much the only part of the magazine that doesn't wow me. The recipes border on too gourmet for my style of cooking, though there seem to be one or two in each issue which are do-able for a family with kids on a budget. The recipes, however, are beside the point. It's the science portions of the articles that are so amazing and fun. Which brings me to the reason I'm blogging about it...

As much as I would have enjoyed finding Cooks Illustrated earlier, I'm especially pleased to be discovering it with Brianna rather than simply introducing her to it. It's fun to be excited about this gem of a find together! She's always been my little scientist -- observant, analytical, and curious -- and chemistry is currently her favorite branch of science. She has recently become interested in doing more cooking as well, frequently making lunch for herself and Alexander and even taking on dinner for the family once a week or so. Cooks Illustrated is all about the chemistry of cooking, with short articles written in lay-language that are perfect for her. We even read an article from it as a bed-time story the other night!

For the time being, we are enjoying back-issues from the library. We have also requested a free copy of Cook's Country, a sister publication which looks from the website like it might contain more recipes that we would actually use. (I don't know if it has the science component though -- we'll see.) It's funny; fifteen years ago, I would have said that I disliked both chemistry and cooking (though I've always enjoyed baking.) Turns out, I just didn't know how fascinating they could be. Lucky me to have a science-loving girl to share it all with!

Dogsleds, Stereotypes and Stories

2010-01-19T22:55:00.009-05:00

Yesterday, I pulled into the parking lot of a 7-11 to buy a newspaper. I parked next to a police cruiser and a mid-size SUV with what I'm pretty sure was a dog sled lashed to the roof. (I don't think I'd ever before seen a dogsled except in photographs. They're big -- especially lashed to the roof of a vehicle!) These were the only vehicles in the parking lot besides my van.

The cop was easy to spot. He was hanging out by the counter. He didn't seem to be buying anything, which made me wonder if something was up, but whatever it was, it apparently wasn't an emergency. He was leaning on the counter, thumbing through a magazine. I went looking for my paper.

Since Ethan was with me, I didn't bolt right out of the store after paying for the paper, as I normally would have done. He decided to take a meandering walk around the store before leaving. That was when I noticed that there was no one in the store who might own the dog sled. Hmm. Maybe they left the SUV here temporarily, I thought. Odd place to leave it, as there isn't much else within a convenient walk, but who knows?

As we exited the store, we passed the police officer again, who was now chatting with a middle aged black woman whom I hadn't noticed earlier. She looked like someone's young-ish grandma: hair salon-set with highlights, stylish but not new black swing coat, leopard print scarf, black leather boots suitable for Michigan winters, but with a dash of flair. Middle class, middle age, average black woman. Period. When I went outside and saw no new vehicles in the lot, I idly wondered where her car was.

Ethan was still being pokey, so I had just finished buckling him into his car seat and was heading around to my door when the woman exited the store. By now, you've surely guessed that she got into the dog sled SUV, right? Right. I was so taken aback that when the thought entered my head to ask her about the dog sled, I shushed it. I think I even stared a little. Huh.

Don't worry, this isn't a post about "white guilt" over the fact that it didn't even remotely cross my mind that she might be Dog Sled Woman. Frankly, I suspect even black folks would have been surprised, and for the same (or substantially similar) reasons I was. Rather, I fascinating to notice how a mix of factors played together to thoroughly exclude from my mind the possibility that this middle-aged Black-woman-next-door might drive an SUV with a dog sled on top. So thoroughly was the possibility excluded, that I speculated on unlikely reasons why there was an owner-less SUV in the parking lot *and* a woman apparently without a vehicle! Why did I not at least entertain the more obvious conclusion that they belonged together? Curious.

It wasn't just her race, though that was a factor. When I think "musher", white people and people native to the Arctic come most readily to mind. That said, if she had been still black, but 25 and dressed in Patagonia pants and an anorak, I'm pretty sure I would have put her with the SUV right away. I would have been mildly surprised, given my pre-conceptions regarding the races of dog sled mushers, but not shocked, and certainly not oblivious to the possibilities.

Gender was another factor in so far as it inter-played with her manner of dress and her age. A man in his 50's, no matter how he was dressed, would have seemed a more likely candidate for dog sledding, I have to admit. A white woman in her 50's would probably have to be dressed in Patagonia pants and an anorak for me to catch on. You see how the permutations of race/age/dress/class could go on.

I took away a greater awareness of how we weave together subtle information to create meaning, context and story, even about people we are hardly noticing. (My friend Su writes eloquently about this subject as it relates to perceptions of her mixed-race family.) Sometimes this can be pernicious -- we have all slighted, marginalized, misunderstood, or discriminated against someone based on a set of characteristics we probably didn't even notice we were noticing. The tendency to create story and meaning from the barest threads is so ingrained in us, how could we not? Often, however, no harm is done. And every once in a while, we get a glimpse of the real story beyond our assumptions. If we are lucky, we find it is much more interesting than we could have imagined.

The Fruit Bowl

2010-01-05T21:39:00.005-05:00

Do people still have fruit bowls? Thanks to my husband, we do! A few weeks ago, he pulled most of the fruit from the fridge, stuck it in my big stainless steel mixing bowl and set the bowl on the dining table. Then he proceeded to leave little notes for us some mornings when he observed specimens going soft: "Time to eat the mango!" or "Time to eat the pears!" Lo and behold, we are eating more fruit! Above is our bowl after yesterday's trip to Horrocks. There are several varieties of apples, pears, avocados, mangos and kiwi fruit. Bananas are elsewhere so that they don't get bruised, and grapes stay in the fridge so Ethan doesn't help himself to a choking hazzard. Here he is hefting a blurry mango. :o)

The only downside? Having to dump all the fruit on the table when I need the mixing bowl for, ya know, mixing stuff. Otherwise, I highly recommend reviving the fruit bowl, at least for the winter months.

Best Bible Analogy Ever

2009-12-14T21:56:00.003-05:00

I found this gem in the current issue of Friends Journal:

"I have heard [it said] that the Bible is a crutch. A crutch provides support to a broken individual, and since the Bible does so admirably, there is no problem with the assertion. However, it is appalling to remove a crutch from someone who is using it, and it is alarming to beat someone over the head with our own crutch. ...[P]lease avoid violence to or with this venerable text."

(From "Addressing the Differences Among Friends" by Howie Baker, Friends Journal, Dec. 2009)

Well said, Friend Howie.

Too Much Pressure

2009-11-17T22:38:00.001-05:00

"Mommy," Alexander approached me with the plaintive voice that means something is bothering him. "I need to decide what I want to be when I grow up." The enormity of this task was clearly weighing on him.
If you had asked Alexander at age 4 what he wanted to be when he grew up, he would
have rattled off a list of about 5 things, mostly consisting of the
usual little-boy fantasy careers: dump truck driver, fire fighter, rock
star. But now that he's seven, he knows that his options are wide open
and he has plenty of time in the future to explore what jobs he might be right for him. If you ask him now, his answer is a very age-appropriate "I don't know."

I knew right away where this was coming from. This weekend, Alexander broke his pinky finger. The break was close enough to his knuckle that the urgent care doctor wanted him to see a hand specialist to make sure it didn't require any extraordinary measures. (It didn't.) Firmin took him to the hand doctor on Monday. When they came back, Firmin told me about how the doctor seemed to have a bit of a fixation on Alexander's future career choice. Asking a kid what he wants to be when he grows up is standard doctor small-talk, but this guy seemed to have a hard time taking "I don't know" for an answer. "He kept coming back to it", Firmin observed. We found this strange and mildly annoying, but didn't give it much more thought.

Alexander, on the other hand, apparently took it much more seriously. He told me the doctor said he had "two weeks to think about it" and he's going to ask again when we go back for the 2 week check. (why???) Xan is all stressed about this. Sigh. All my good mom advice about ignoring such rude behavior from the doctor, and how much time he has, blah, blah blah, is falling on deaf ears. He wants to have an answer, but he doesn't want to just make something up. "I don't want to tell him a lie!" Ah, my sweet, sweet, child! How can I argue with that? So we did a little brainstorming this evening. He was surprised to realize that there are real jobs with the Lego company. He found that intriguing. (We even looked up some vacancies -- many in Denmark!) "Video game designer" was another possibility. He laughed at my suggestion of saying he was going to be a bum and never leave home, but he won't really say that, of course. I secretly wish he would. I'd love to see the look on the doctor's face when I backed that statement up with a proud, beaming smile.

The larger issue here is why do some adults think it's cute to put kids on the spot like this? A *7* year old must have a specific career ambition? Does he really think that or is he simply unable to see when he's making his patients uncomfortable with his clueless banter? Does he badger his adult patients about stuff they'd rather not talk about? (I doubt it, though I've met one or two doctors who are socially inept enough to come close.) Why do adults do this? This doctor is not the only example we've experienced of otherwise nice grown-ups treating children like this. They repeatedly ask questions the child is clearly uncomfortable answering, or they insist that the child try or do something they clearly don't care to try or do. I'm not talking about things that the child should or must do for a good reason, such as saying "ah" so that the doctor can look at an infected throat. I'm talking about nagging a shy child to show off for a group, or quizzing a child (not their own) on something they are studying in school, even after it becomes clear they don't enjoy the quiz. I'm talking about insisting that a 7 year old decide on a future career in only 2 weeks and expecting him to realize it's a joke, except it's not really a joke because he knows you won't lay off until he gives a convincing answer.

Beautiful Living

2009-10-30T23:59:00.008-04:00

Tonya at Plain and Joyful Living has a post up today entitled Vision. She relates how her family's decision to live simply in rural Vermont has meant coming to terms with the fact that not everything on the homestead is beautiful. Money to landscape nicely, haul away rubble from building projects, or repair the barn is not usually available, so they live with visions of future beauty among the not-so-beautiful parts, relying on the work of their hands and Providence. This passage exemplifies her can-do spirit, I think:

I didn't want to look at those big ugly concrete blocks, however, so I am in the process of building a branch fence to put right in front of them. I will plant sweet peas in front of the fence and I can envision the beautiful flowers and green vines climbing over the fence this summer. I piled up rocks around the well head as a worked in the garden. There was trash to remove. I found some flat rocks to add to our entryway walkway. (The chickens enjoyed finding insects and worms while we were cleaning up!)

After reading (and admiring) her post, I found my thoughts taking a tangent on the role of consumerism in our conception of beauty and ugliness. Beauty -- that is, the orderly, manufactured beauty that requires purchasing things -- is lifted up in our culture as a key to a happy, meaningful life. This is a marketing ploy, of course, but it's wielded not only by mainstream corporate interests (which I am fairly successful at ignoring), but also by interests which are much more alluring to me. I'm invited to furnish my home with beautiful organic products, to purchase aesthetically-pleasing, artisan-made toys, tools and clothing that support local, independent manufacturers and merchants. (I almost feel guilty NOT buying them.) I could landscape my yard with native vegetation and pave my ugly mud driveway with permeable concrete -- as beautiful as it is environmentally friendly! My home really should have bamboo or cork floors (gorgeous!) instead of the dirty, undoubtedly toxic carpet we live with, shouldn't it? Even at my co-operatively owned grocery, special products for beautiful sustainable living abound, strangly tempting even when I don't really need them. Hand-thrown pottery with eco-friendly glaze, or my grandmother's hand-me-down 1970's Corelle? Hmmm... (Actually, that one's a no-brainer with kids, and we could never afford the pottery anyway, but you get the idea.)

Frankly, waging this constant internal battle to resist these messages can be exhausting. Marketers -- even ones who pay their office cleaning crew a living wage -- are clever, clever, clever. They can make me forget what is truly beautiful in my life, and that's a shame on me, as much as them.

On my best days, I feel good about how we are resisting consumerism in favor of other, more meaningful life experiences. I can catch Tonya's vision and see that we are working toward a different kind of beauty in our lives, a kind of unkempt, wild beauty of gardens and fruit trees, of family togetherness and honey bees. On my worst days, I feel like I'm not even doing a good job with the meaningful life experiences part, and I really just want some matching furniture.

October 2009

2009-10-13T23:10:00.006-04:00

It's been a while since I've posted anything here. I've been wanting to put up something of substance, but honestly, my brain hasn't been ruminating on much that is original lately. I've been getting into the homeschooling routine for this year, finishing up the garden (still don't have the garlic planted yet), running to sports practices and games. I guess all of that external activity is not good for introspection and reflection. I still think about things, but mostly they are things that are brought to my mind externally -- from reading or hearing a news item or someone else's thoughts about a subject. I'm not reflecting long enough to form many new or interesting ideas of my own. This doesn't feel bad or wrong; it's just where I am right now. As we head into November and the natural world goes dead and dark, perhaps I will be able to turn inward and find something worth writing about. In the mean time, here are some scenes from our house in October. Missing are pictures of Alexander's flag football. I really wish I had some, because 7 year old football players are super cute. :o) I think all of the recent pictures of Alexander are on Firmin's iPhone and I don't know how to download them. My own hit-or-miss shots with the real camera will have to do:

This is a typical mid-afternoon scene in the living room. The older kids are off playing elsewhere -- perhaps outside or on the computer -- having finished their school work for the day. I'm in the kitchen. Ethan has finished his nap, had a little Mommy time, and will play contentedly by himself for quite a while. What you can't get from the picture is the background sound track: The Wiggles, most definitely!

Firmin has always loved spending special one-on-one time at the table with the kids while they are little. I think Ethan looks especially like Firmin in this photo. He always has, but this picture captures a more mature face than Ethan usually exhibits, so the similarity stands out all the more. Ethan usually looks much more toddler-ish -- more like this:

Friend Ann washing some of the 200 chairs stored in our garage for eventual use in the new Meetinghouse. Between the grime from their previous life and the dust from being in our garage for a year, the cleaning crew had their jobs cut out for them!

Even hard work is fun if you get to use a power washer!

Brianna's bookshelf. (Found this on the camera -- she must have taken it.) The top shelf is her "stack" -- the books she is planning to read, aranged in the order she plans to read them. Most of the stack is composed of library books. The bottom shelf is a selection of books that she owns. This stack is average to small. Since this picture was taken, we've been back to the library. Her current stack is larger than usual and fills the top shelf completely!

Not Back to School Day 2009

2009-09-09T19:03:00.001-04:00

Keeping the Sabbath

2009-09-02T22:11:00.003-04:00

I don't know when the idea of Observing the Sabbath first came to me as something I might consider doing myself. It started as such a gentle nudge that it really seemed to just flit through my head by chance. One of those ideas that, if you notice it at all, you simply smile and shake your head at such an absurdity. But Spirit knows how I operate; I have to build up tolerance to an idea before I can adopt it. Over time, the idea of Sabbath came to me more frequently, first as a novelty, then as a more serious curiosity. When I found myself feeling a lack of "right order" in my life earlier this year, my heart was groomed to hear God's advice to me -- Remember the Sabbath and keep it holy.

My head was another story. I often feel pressed for time as it is. It would require compromises and re-arranging some of our routines. Firmin would *never* go for it -- he would think I'd gone 'round the bend -- and I couldn't really do it alone. The thought of even seriously discussing it with him seemed awkward. I'm already a weirder wife than he bargained for, why push the envelope this far? (I must state here that Firmin has been great about walking with me down many "alternative" paths, often enthusiastically. I don't know why I continue to think he's going to balk, but I once again, I did.) Spirit continued to nudge me with increasing force, but I resisted and rationalized and looked for some more reasonable, modern method of ordering my life. Some wonderful idea out of a magazine or someone's blog, maybe.

Then one day Firmin said (not for the first time) that he felt like we had "too much going on". He didn't put it in so many words, but after some discussion it was clear that what he was feeling was the same lack of "right order" that I felt. I tossed off the idea of Sabbath keeping as some silly idea that kept coming into my head lately: "Maybe we need to do something like that, I don't know..." He didn't respond right away and I figured that was the end of that idea. But later in the evening, he came to me and said it was exactly what we needed to do.

So we did it. This past First Day was our first observed Sabbath. We aren't following any particular set of rules, Jewish, Christian, or otherwise. We created our own definition of "work", based on what feels like work to us -- no cooking, yard work, household projects, or shopping. The only housework allowed is picking up after ourselves (and Ethan) as we go along through the day, so as not to create a stressful mess for Monday morning. Dishes were an item of concern for me. I suggested perhaps using paper plates and cups, even though that would not be the most environmentally responsible choice. I was unwilling to face a sink full of dirty dishes first thing on a Monday morning! Firmin had a better solution -- each person would be responsible for their own dishes, either washing them out after using them or putting them in the dishwasher. This worked beautifully and didn't feel like work to anyone. At the end of the day, the only soiled items were one or two serving dishes. We have also decided to forgo commercial activity, either for consumption or entertainment. I am abstaining from the computer, though I have not imposed that discipline on the kids -- not yet, anyway.

Our guide-words are Faith, Family, Friends and Community. We attend Quaker Meeting this day, and in addition, I am spending part of the day in devotional reading and/or prayer. Our time spent not working is to be spent with each other or friends and extended family in peaceful and relaxed companionship rather than hurried "doing". We do allow ourselves to drive, as this facilitates our ability to worship with Friends and to spend time with loved ones outside our immediate family. I'm sure questions will come up of "should we or shouldn't we". The guide-words are designed to help us keep the Spirit of our Sabbath as we formulate the rules and exceptions.

I loved our first Sabbath. Here are some insights, observations and surprises:

- I was surprised how the prospect of keeping Sabbath on First Day made Saturday so much more intentional. I had to prepare to do no work the next day, which meant I wanted the house reasonably clean and a meal ready to eat. With this goal in mind, the process of readying our house for Sabbath was quick and pleasant. I was cleaning for the purpose of taking a day off, not because it was simply drudgery that needed to be done. I hope this effect does not wear off over time!

-- Importantly, (important enough to give this it's own bullet point), preparation for the Sabbath was a shared purpose for me and Firmin, so even as we worked independently on tasks that needed to be done, we were working together toward our goal. The children pitched in, their attitude helped by the knowledge that had a completely chore-free day ahead. This made Saturday a family day in a different but still powerful way.

- I found that refraining from work felt sooo self-indulgent! I almost feel like it can't count as a spiritual discipline because it was so luxurious! But Jesus did say that Sabbath was made for humans, not humans for the Sabbath, so I guess it's O.K. for it to be enjoyable!

- I realized how often I say "I should..." to myself. Many times throughout the day, it occurred to me that if I weren't keeping Sabbath, I would feel like I should be doing something productive. But since I couldn't, I was able to turn back to my book or crossword or game with Ethan without guilt and enjoy it that much more.

- In addition to Saturday being more intentional, my movements about the house on First Day were more intentional as well. I did far more picking up as I went along than on a typical day. I was aware of not creating a situation that would require a concentrated period of "work", which would then have to be put off until Monday. Of course I had no where to run off to and no other pressing task to take priority, but I'm hoping the habit of seeing small needs and meeting them in the moment is one that takes hold in the rest of my week.

- I jumped up from my seat far less often.

- My mind felt more calm than usual.

- We were all very nice to each other. Not that we are usually mean, but we were exceptionally nice on First Day.

- I now feel compelled to call Sunday "First Day" as a symbolic way to make my Sabbath practice tie in with my Quaker practice.*

- BIG surprise and too perfect to be coincidence: On Saturday, I had lunch with an old friend from high school, whom I have only recently reconnected with. I mentioned that we were going to begin observing the Sabbath that weekend. She looked at me with wide eyes and said that she and her husband had recently decided to do so as well. Prior to this, I knew *no one* personally who keeps the Sabbath, so this just seemed like Divine validation. Perhaps it seemed so for her too.

We are early in this journey, needless to say. I fully expect to learn many new things as we go along, and I expect there will be situations that challenge our commitment. Perhaps, after a season, we will be led to let the practice go. In any case, I am grateful that I listened (eventually) to this leading and give the thanks to Spirit. After all, it was God's idea, not mine!

*Early Quakers rejected Sabbath-keeping as practiced by the church in England. They felt that everyday life could be lived as sacred if one attended to The Light Within on a daily basis. Sounds good in theory, but personally, I think Sabbath keeping may have been a precious, but abused little baby that got thrown out with the bath water.

Here is a talk given at Pacific Yearly Meeting in 2006 that I found insightful. Here is an article I found just this evening that addresses some of the practical concerns about keeping the Sabbath in our modern world.

First Batch of Tomatoes

2009-08-18T16:05:00.005-04:00

I intended to can peaches today, but the half bushel I bought last night was not ripe enough. Since I had the kitchen all prepared for canning, I decided to do tomatoes. Turned out to be a good choice! I was able to completely fill this basket with ripe tomatoes from the garden, some of which really needed to be dealt with ASAP. The peaches will wait for a couple of days.

This picture didn't quite capture the beautiful colors of the heirloom tomatoes the way I hoped it would. They were so bright and juicy that I found my self smiling throughout the process of chopping them up. What one would think might be a mundane task was really quite enjoyable.

Filling the jars and loading them into the (new!) pressure canner.

Ready to process!

The canner to survive the Apocalypse! (Let's see what kind of Google hits *that* phrase gets me, lol!) It was a little tricky getting the lid screwed on evenly, but after that, it was so easy to use. Good old American-made quality!

The finished product: 7 quarts of heirloom tomatoes canned in their own juice. Should make some yummy chili and spaghetti sauce this winter!

For the curious canners among you, this was a simple raw pack, which is partly why the fruit is floating as much as it is. Not as pretty on the shelf, but oh so easy and probably more nutritious.

Pencil Peril

2009-08-13T00:46:00.005-04:00

Quaker blogger and writer Eileen Flanigan has a blog post up that is mostly about finding time to write amid the back-to-school hustle and bustle. But tucked in there is a thought or two about using up old school supplies rather than buying all new ones each and every year. As homeschoolers, there is less pressure on us to get all new things in the fall (and we don't need many folders, etc. as there is no daily transport from one place to another required for most of their paperwork.) Pencils, on the other hand, have become an issue. Ethan (almost 2) has for some time now been fond of biting the erasers off pencils. He doesn't eat them, just bites them off, sucks on them for a few minutes, then spits them onto the carpet. Pink block erasers are strewn about the house but never seem to be handy when we need them, and end-cap erasers are a choking hazard for Ethan, so I've bought more new pencils in the last 9 months than in the previous 9 years! Environmentally unfriendly as it may be, it's actually kind of amusing when we step back and observe ourselves:

"Mommy!! Ethan's got a pencil with an eraser!"

"Quick, trade him for a bitten one!"

"He doesn't want it! I can't get it away from him!"

"Be careful yanking it away; if he lets go, you'll stab yourself in the face."

"But he won't let go! Arrgh! He bit it! Now I can't do my math!"

"Nice try. Just get a new pencil. I sharpened a bunch of them the other day."

Someday when Ethan gets older, he's going to wonder why we have 100 pencils in the house but NONE with an eraser. We can't wait to tell him...

Garden and Yard Photos

2009-07-28T22:12:00.005-04:00

Two of the 4 main garden beds. The one on the left has broccoli, kale, rainbow chard and peppers. The one on the right is my first attempt at a "lasagna" bed -- layers of mulch placed right on top of newspaper-covered sod! It's doing great, with a sprawling pickling cucumber plant in the foreground, basil, cilantro, tomatoes and parsley. Firmin has started building boxes around these beds. Eventually, he'll do all four beds. They will look very neat when he is done. They already add some sharpness to the garden! In the extreme foreground, you can see the edge of the dying pea patch on the right and a corner of another tomato bed on the left.

Looking from the new blueberry patch (planted this year) toward the apple trees (last year) and the main garden beyond that, next to the house.

Another tomato bed (the one you could see the corner of in the first picture.) My tomato plants are doing very well this year. A bit of leaf spot, but not too bad. Many, many green tomatoes and still many flowers as well. The bed in the foreground with the spent peas will be my fall bed. Just planted carrots, with lettuce and spinach to come.

Another view of the garden with the big tomatoes in front hogging most of the view. All my tomatoes this year are heirloom. I'm going to try my hand at seed saving this time around.

In this picture you can see the blueberry patch on the left, the garage on the right, and into the back yard. We have let the far back grow wild, with paths mowed through the tall grass. (Ethan loves it back there -- the grass is higher than his head!) My plan is to eventually have another garden plot behind the garage for space-intensive things -- pumpkin, corn, melons, broccoli, etc. (I really need a much larger stand of broccoli, since we eat a ton of it!) It's a long way from the water spigot, but some rain barrels by the garage should take care of most of the water needs. The biggest obstacle is fencing. Right now, this section of the yard is very wildlife friendly -- we have rabbits, deer, skunks, raccoons, woodchucks, and more visit or live in our yard. Needless to say, any garden back there will need a good fence!

Two Year Old Conversation

2009-07-25T19:09:00.002-04:00

Scene: Ethan (nearly 2) jumps from the sofa and partly lands on his big brother, Alexander (7).

Ethan (bending over Alexander and looking him right in the face): Okay?

Alexander: I'm fine.

E: Okay?

A: I'm fine.

E: Okay?

A: I'm fine!

E: Okay?

A: I'm fine!

E: Okay?

A: I'm Okay.

E: Okay?

A: Yes.

E: Okay. (He climbs back up for another jump...)

Boston Road Trip Pictures

2009-07-16T13:16:00.002-04:00

In the car and ready to go. Yes, they are already eating.

Mom is still in a pretty good mood, despite leaving about 2 hours "late". I like road trips.

Granny and Grandpa Charlot meet Ethan for the first time.

Best toy ever!
Ethan played with this for almost an hour while Firmin and the other kids watched an OmniMax movie at the Boston Museum of Science

For Brianna's birthday, we went to Friendly's and got a 12 scoop sundae to share. Yum! The girls on the right and left are Brianna and Alexander's cousins (Firmin's sister's kids). We stayed at their house and all the children had a blast together.

I-93 as it goes under the city.
This is the result of The Big Dig, which began when Firmin and I were still living in Boston and is very nearly finished. This is what $14.6 billion dollars looks like!

The more scenic result is the park/greenway below, where the ugly, elevated highway supports used to be. The North End and Downtown seem much more a part of the same city now.

We were walking the Freedom Trail this day. The splash fountians were a big help for the kids who were starting to feel hot and tired! This was one of only 2 warm sunny days while we were there.

Dinner at Granny's restaurant after our day in the city. The couple in the mural above are Firmin's parents. (His dad's head is cut off in this pic!)

Alexander, hamming it up with his cousin Chrismin (nicknamed Caillou), who spent a few days with us at Linda's. The boys had fun together and got along great.

One of the highlights of the trip home was our last pit stop at Cabela's, a *huge* sporting goods store and tourist destination all in one. The kids enjoyed climbing on the big statue of wrestling bears.

Back in Town

2009-07-03T00:23:00.002-04:00

June is always a busy month, but it was especially so this year. Between birthdays, garden work, a 12 day vacation/road trip to the Boston area, and the planning and packing for the Boston trip, blogging didn't just take a back seat, it got kicked out of the vehicle! Hope no one gave up on me completely.

But I'm back now, with a more leisurely July schedule and some ideas for posts percolating in my head. Stay tuned...

Looking Up

2009-05-28T12:32:00.003-04:00

I haven't gotten the low-down on the situation, but it appears our neighbor's grandchildren and their mother might be living with them. They've been frequent visitors in the past, but now seem to be around every day for the entire day. (Not sure what the school situation is either...) They are an 11 or 12 year old girl and a 15 year old boy. Brianna and Alexander have always enjoyed playing with them, and they seem to be good kids. The girl even takes time out to play with Ethan. I'm thinking of asking her to do some "mother's helper" work for me this summer if she's still around. I'm also impressed with the boy. He seems (from the distance I watch at) to have the right mix of youthful enthusiasm, older kid know-it-all, and big brother affection. Both Brianna and Alexander have significantly improved their basketball games by playing against him!

But now that they are around all the time, I'm thinking more about influence. They've moved beyond basketball and bike riding -- though they still do plenty of both -- to games involving more imagination and dialog. I've not seen anything to cause alarm; quite the contrary. But I'm aware that I don't see everything. I'm also aware that a 15 year old boy could have tremendous influence, for good or ill, on my nearly 7 year old son. I can tell that Alexander looks up to J. and enjoys spending time with him. Today, when I mentioned that J. was outside shooting baskets, Alexander left his computer game immediately to go outside and play. (A minor miracle!)

Our family has been blessed with good older-kid role models for our children. My sister's kids (now middle-schoolers) are wonderful, and the older children in our homeschool group and at our Quaker Meeting are also the kind of people I like to be around. However, this is the first time Brianna and Alexander are developing relationships with older kids that I don't personally know well. Their grandparents are good people, and they seem to be as well, but there is a level of trust and letting go that I'm not yet used to. So for now, I'll keep my eyes open and hope that these neighbor kids will be among the good role models who are showing my own children how to be the kind of kid a little one can look up to.

Random Pictures Just For Fun

2009-05-25T14:22:00.004-04:00

Brianna and her friend Wren. The children in First Day School visited the new meetinghouse construction site and posted their hopes and dreams for the new building on the studs, so that they will be there behind the walls for always. (Click here for photos of the building progress.)

Dissecting an owl pellet takes concentration.

Our newest porch residents!
5 day old robins

Who knew a cold fire pit could be so much fun? Ethan looked like a little coal miner.

Below: Fun at the park

Spiritual Liberation and the "O" Word

2009-05-11T22:49:00.003-04:00

I spent some time this weekend on a solo Mother's Day Retreat. My family graciously excused me for 24 hours to rejuvenate and relax. Yesterday, I spent some time with Philadelphia Yearly Meeting's Faith and Practice, a sort of "handbook" for Quakers. In the "Advices" section (page 82 of the 2002 edition or here, in section I) I read this:

As death comes to our willfulness, a new life is formed in us, so that we are liberated from distractions and frustrations, from fears, angers and guilts. Thus we are enabled to sense the Inward Light and to follow it's leadings.

I am struck by how I usually get this backwards. I've operated on the assumption that if I could just listen carefully enough to the Inward Light, it would lead me to actions that would rid me of distraction, frustration, fear, etc. In my experience that this does not work very well! I've blamed my own spiritual weakness, or a lack of time to devote to worship. Both of these might indeed be factors, but this passage leads me to consider the possibility that there might be steps I can take even when the Light burns dim within. (Perhaps especially then.)

I suspect this is where the word "obedience" rears it's ugly head. How do I hasten the death of my willfulness? I'm still mulling this over, but I'm pretty sure it will involve obedience of some sort. This could be my fundementalist upbringing showing, but I don't think so.

Like most modern Americans, the word "obedience" has negative connotations for me. In modern usage, it suggests that the benefit of the obedience accrues primarily to the one being obeyed and implies a threat if obedience is not forth-coming. Obedience is what slaves render to masters, children to parents (especially cruel ones), employees to bosses. But in spiritual matters, it must have a more nuanced meaning. What has God to gain from my obedience? Another piece of the "body" (I Corinthians 12) I suppose, but it would seem I myself, and those around me, have much to gain as well. And why would Spirit punish me? Any "punishment" is of my own making -- I miss out on something or end up in an unpleasant situation. So obedience to (with?) the Divine must be of a different character than obedience to masters, parents and bosses.

Obedience with. I like that -- it seems mature and wise. Come to think of it, I obey countless "rules" every day simply because they are wise. I follow many rules in gardening so as to ensure a good harvest; I try to make sure the dishes are done before I go to bed so as not to start the next day two steps behind; I look both ways for cars before I cross the street so as to avoid injury or death. I didn't always know these rules, or understand why they are important. I've killed many a seedling out of ignorance or carelessness. I've learned the law of the dishes the hard way on more than one occasion. Ignorance of it did not excuse me from the consequences! Obedience with Spirit must be like this. No arbitrary laws or lightning bolts. Just putting God at the center of life instead of myself, deciding on faith to trust the rules that decision brings into focus and obeying them. What have I to loose but my distraction, frustration, fear, anger and guilt? If I only loose one off that list, I'll take it! As for a greater ability to sense the Light and follow it's leadings... One thing at a time, I think.

First Haircut

2009-05-03T22:25:00.005-04:00

Firmin gave Ethan his first hair cut yesterday. I was worried he'd look too much older, and I'm pleased that the change isn't too drastic. He's still my baby! :o)

Before

After

Casualty of War

2009-04-29T21:58:00.004-04:00

I'm a little late on this story, but it has haunted me like few others from the past few weeks. Last week the United States Supreme Court heard arguments in a case involving a 13 year old girl being strip-searched by school officials on a tip from a fellow student that she might be hiding prescription-strength ibuprofen. As disturbing as the undisputed facts in the case are, I was even more shocked by the school district's reasoning, as stated in its brief and to reporters, in defending the strip search.

Here are a few passages from the NPR report I heard on the morning of April 21:

Redding says her whole body was visible to the school administrators. She kept her head down so the nurse and the secretary couldn't see her fighting back tears.
(snip)
In its brief, the school says the fact that Redding was an honors student who had never been in trouble before is not evidence of good conduct, but only evidence that she had never been caught.
The school views itself as a protector of its students' health and safety, which includes protecting students from both illegal and over-the-counter drugs.

(snip)

"Children call their private parts their private parts for a reason. They not subject to exposure, to observation by school officials. When children are strip-searched, they experience trauma that's similar in kind and degree to sexual abuse," says Wolf.
School lawyer Wright counters, "We just have to ask ourselves, as a policy matter, do you really want a drug-free environment? And if you do, then there are going to be some privacy invasions when there is reason to suspect that those drugs are being dispensed on campus, that they're being used by students."

Here's what upsets me about the school's argument:

1) There was no presumption of innocence for Miss Redding. Indeed, the presumption seems to have been that she was guilty. They boldly assert that fact that she was an upstanding student who had never been in trouble only meant that she hadn't been caught. I shudder to think how they would have treated a student with average grades who had been caught passing notes once or twice. Imagine if the adults in your child's school consistently expected the worst from them and their peers, regardless of their previous conduct! Furthermore, do our children loose *all* their civil rights at the school door? I understand the need for some curtailment of rights, however this seems not only ridiculous, but shameful.

2)

"The school views itself as a protector of it's students' health and safety..."

Hmmm... Miss Redding suffered both emotional and phsyical harm (ulcers) from the strip search. But they made darn sure she wouldn't harm herself or any one else with ibuprofen pills! This infuriates me. Without a doubt, I would have experienced a strip search at age 13 as akin to a sexual violation. They did NOT protect her from the far greater harm. They inflicted it.

3)

"School lawyer Wright counters, 'We just have to ask ourselves, as a policy matter, do you really want a drug-free environment? And if you do, then there are going to be some privacy invasions...' "

Basically, they are arguing that a totally drug-free environment means "nerdy" 13 year old girls -- and thus everyone else -- are subject to strip searches on the flimsiest of accusations. Really on the basis of gossip alone. (Miss Redding was accused by a former friend who, in all-too-common "mean girl" fashion, was eager to prove her break from Miss Redding to her new crowd.) I say no. A totally drug-free environment is not worth that. My high school, a good, middle class, small-town school, was not drug free, but I felt safe there. Even if I had felt threated by some of the drug activity (which I did not; the drug-using kids kept to themselves), imagine how much greater my fear if I were given cause to believe that any whisper said against me could mean I had to take my clothes off in front of the school secretary?

And in case you thought it couldn't be worse, the school's lawyer asserted before the court that even a body cavity search -- a body cavity search! -- would be permissable in this circumstance. I kid you not.

I'm dismayed to read that the justices seemed to be more sympathetic to the school's arguments than to the girl's. Perhaps not surprisingly, only Justice Ginsberg seemed to grasp what kind of impact such an experience could have on a young girl. (It's buried in a long audio clip, but basically she responded to a male justice who insinuated that 13 year olds are often cavalier about nakedness. She chided that maybe 13 year old boys are like that, but 13 year old girls certainly are not!) In any case, the prevailing thinking seemed to be better kids be "embarrassed" than kids get killed. Seems like a stretch to me; we're talking ibuprofen, not anthrax. Even if the drug under suspicion were marijuana, I would want to see a higher level of probable cause for such a search. Drugs like meth, heroin or cocaine get trickier, but is there not room for *some* level of common sense?

I await the courts decision. If they come down on the side of the school, I will be less likely than ever to send my children to school. In any case, I'd have to take a good long look at their drug-enforcement policy, then just hope they don't exercise their "right" to violate my child. Nevertheless, my ability to protect my own children is small comfort in the face of millions of children who will not be so protected should the court decide that an innocent child's emotional well-being is a reasonable sacrifice in the war on drugs.

Snatches

2009-04-11T19:46:00.003-04:00

Sorry for the long hiatus between posts. Seems I seldom have more than 5 or 10 minutes to spend on the computer at one sitting, though I have those minutes several times a day. A good blog post -- any blog post other than a "Wordless Wednesday" -- takes much more concentrated time than that. (Even this one is taking longer than I intended!)

The good news is that I'm ready to begin a re-ordering phase. Perhaps it's the season, or just that I'm tired of always feeling behind. I feel like I do so much in "snatches" these days -- the computer, the kids, household tasks, gardening, errands. It all feels dis-jointed and inadequate. I hope to be able to organize my days such that I spend less of my life in snatches and more of it in full experience. Knowing myself as I do, it's a tall order. But now and then I manage it for a while, and life is so much better when I do. If I succeed, you'll likely see more blog posts and fewer Facebook updates. I like Facebook, but it's like living on snack crackers when you really want to cook and eat a good meal.

Computer time is over now -- gotta put the kids to bed. Wish me luck... and Light.

The Crocus are Coming

2009-03-11T12:21:00.003-04:00

Girls Will Be Girls

2009-03-06T09:02:00.004-05:00

Yesterday, we went to an indoor play facility on a day they offer a good deal for homeschoolers. I guess lots of kids have reached to that end-of-winter craziness. It was packed and the children were even more rambunctious than usual.

Alexander (age 6) always has a blast -- doesn't matter if his buddies are there or not. He plays with friends, acquaintances and strangers alike. Give most boys a room full of bounce houses, a few beach balls, and space to run and they're set for hours. Ethan (17 mo.) also likes to run and play on the toddler toys that are available.

Brianna (age 8) has not always enjoyed herself so much at this facility. The bouncing and running are fun for about a half-hour, but after that, much depends on who else is there. Yesterday, I'm pleased to say, was a good day for her. Her best friend was there, but that was just the beginning. There was a fairly large cohort of upper-elementary age girls who spent the afternoon in a herd -- sometimes talking, sometimes bouncing, sometimes wandering here and there looking older than they had any right to. (When did Brianna start sauntering?) She's not always comfortable in groups like that, but yesterday she was clearly one of the gang.

On the way home, I observed aloud that she seemed to have had a good time with all those girls. "Yeah" she said in her usual understated way. Then after a beat, she continued: "At about 2:00 we formed a club. It was called the 'Girls Rule, No Boys Allowed Club'." The mature adult mother of two sons in me cringed just a little. But the former third grade girl in me gave a fist pump in the air, and I felt myself smile.

The Book Was Better

2009-02-15T19:17:00.002-05:00

Brianna, Alexander and I recently finished reading The Spiderwick Chronicles book series together. Night after night for about 3 weeks, we reveled in the delightful descriptions of the creatures, the mystery, the suspense. Tonight we capped off our experience with a family movie night, popping popcorn and watching the film version of the story. (Sheilding Ethan's eyes where necessary.) The movie effects were excellent, the acting was superb, and the story line was clear. Judged solely on it's own merits, it was a good movie.

But, as readers everywhere might predict, it couldn't hold a candle to the books. Not only did the sequence and location of events diverge early on, but it soon became clear that some of our favorite scenes and creatures were left out. No Dwarves, no elves (!!), no Phooka. And no dragon, which meant no arial battle between the dragon and the griffin -- bummer.

As sorry as I am that the movie didn't delight us more, I also feel a smug satisfaction. I love that the experience of huddling together on bed and reading a good book aloud can still trump Hollywood, sophisticated computer effects and all.

Up next: The Tale of Despereaux, which we will start reading tonight. Will we see the movie afterword? Probably, but expectations will be low.

Defending the Faith

2009-02-05T22:24:00.004-05:00

Earlier this week, in casual conversation with two other moms from Brianna's basketball team, I used the descriptive phrase "a woman from my Quaker Meeting". (My fellow Friends may already see where this is going.) While I sometimes say "my church" to avoid mucking up an otherwise normal conversation, it doesn't seem fully honest somehow, so I usually try to "speak plainly" as we Quakers are encouraged to do. On this occasion, my plain speech completely derailed the conversation about backyard chickens.

"Is that pretty much the same as Mennonites?"
"Well no, not really. Mennonites were around before Quakers."

It never got much less awkward than that. This is a homeschool basketball program which, while open to all homeschoolers, is run by members of the big Christian homeschool group in town. Our faith doesn't quite fit the norm of this group, which is tends to be theologically conservative. I don't mind being different, but I am just getting to know these women. I like them, and I want them to like me. I want them to be comfortable having their kids be friends with my daughter. Ideally, I would would choose to have them know me better before revealing all the details of how our theologies might differ. I would choose to have them see/hear my life speak for my beliefs before my voice. I know from experience that deep, satisfying discussions about faith are possible between friends when there is assurance that the relationship will endure in spite of difference. I don't yet have that assurance with them, thus I was wary. Alas, my reluctance to have this conversation resulted in a weak and probably confusing explanation of Quaker faith and practice.

So it was awkward, but we muddled through. I wasn't the only one feeling the discomfort. One of the women kept saying "Well, we'll all end up in the same place in the end -- we'll all be one big family." I smiled and nodded, but I should have made it more clear how very much I agree with her; I really wish I had. In any case, I believe our nascent friendships survived the incident. For that I am grateful.

I'm left not knowing quite what to do with this experience. Would a more confident and clear description of Quaker theology have served the situation better? I'm not so sure -- it might have sparked debate or defensiveness, which I don't believe we're ready for. Yet I feel a little bad about my halting and awkward comments regarding the Quaker tradition that I respect so greatly. This is a matter for some seasoning I suppose. Something to think about in a quiet time or to bring into the Light of worship.

If anyone is willing to share, I'm curious to hear other people's similar experiences. Not just from Quakers either -- I'm sure people of every faith must find themselves "outed" as the oddball belief from time to time. How have you responded and how did it turn out?

Busy Month

2009-01-25T18:21:00.002-05:00

Whoa, has it really been a month since I last posted here?? Seems so. Time has flown this month because we've been so busy. Lots of classes, practices, events, and just plain work to do here at home.

I'll try to get something new up soon! I've had some good ideas, but no time to develop them. Time to think would be a good thing...

Merry White Christmas!

2008-12-24T10:19:00.001-05:00

Kinesthetic vs. Auditory in a Nutshell

2008-12-11T10:45:00.002-05:00

Overheard this morning:

Alexander: I taught Ethan to throw the basketball! It only took 2 tries.

Brianna: Can he *say* basketball?

A: No. (said with a "duh!" sort of tone)

B: You should teach him to *say* basketball.

Sumo Wrestling

2008-12-06T12:51:00.004-05:00

This week, we read about the Edo period of Japan in our History curriculum. One of the activities following the reading was Sumo wrestling! In addition to trying it out ourselves, we watched some truly informative and interesting YouTube videos on Sumo. (This one and this one. They're short -- check 'em out.)

The kids had great fun with it. For a while. Turns out the old saw is true: "It's all fun and games until somebody gets hurt." But even so, I think Alexander (the one who got hurt) would say it was worth it. It should be noted that the injury happened when they deviated from acceptable Sumo maneuvers and decided to run their pillow bellies together at top speed. Xander being the lighter of the two, went flying backwards into the wall.

So they got a little Physics lesson too. Ah, homeschooling!

The Inward Ringtone

2008-11-20T19:18:00.008-05:00

Tonight we are having a mini-blizzard. Not much accumulation, but a couple of hours of heavy, slippery snow that makes driving difficult. I have a piece of mail that really needs to go out tonight, and if I get it to the (nearby) post office before 8 P.M., it will. I go out, brush snow off the van, and start it so that it will be warm for Ethan. The other kids are with Firmin, so the booster seat in the back remains unoccupied. I bundle Ethan into his deluxe carseat and start out. It is about 6:00 but darkness has fallen. I miss the longer days of summer.

A couple of blocks out, I see a woman pushing a stroller. There is no sidewalk on our busy road, and concern for safety has forced her well off the shoulder, onto the increasingly snow-covered grass. A single blanket covers the child in the stroller from her upper thighs to the top of her head. Only her floral cotton leggings, thin socks and slip-on shoes show. I notice that the legs are longish. The girl must be about four years old. Three if she's tall. The woman holds a cell phone against her ear with one hand as she clumsily maneuvers the stroller along the bumpy ground with the other. I imagine she is calling someone to give her a ride. I hope she is successful; it's a terrible night to be out at all, let alone with a child. I drive on for another block. I wonder how far she has to go. I wonder whom she is calling to help her, and if they will come.

The realization is slow but certain: My warm van with space for the stroller, my non-urgent errand, and my extra booster seat make me the one who is being called to help.

I turn around.

Note to Self:

2008-11-11T21:46:00.003-05:00

Next year, plant cover crops earlier. Like before the temps plummet to the 30's and 40's. Apparently even cold-hearty field peas and fava beans need warmish soil to germinate.

Weeds, on the other hand seem not to be so picky.

:o(

Belated Halloween and Field Trip pics

2008-11-08T11:23:00.009-05:00

Alexander was Robin Hood. I'm particularly proud of this one. It looks good and didn't cost much. The pheasant feather in the hat was the single most expensive part! (The little feathery things around his head are in the background, not part of the costume.) He got lots of compliments on it while trick-or-treating.

Brianna's Mad Scientist hair turned out pretty good. At a Halloween party earlier in the week, we experimented with letting just be loose and puffy. It looked great, but she didn't like how it got in her face, so we went back to our original idea of using wire.

My mom took pics of Ethan in his doggie costume, but I don't have those yet. He was done and out of costume by the time we took these.

-----------------------------------------------------------

We had a chapter in history on the Netherlands, so we took a field trip to Holland. Holland, Michigan, that is. My younger sister just moved there to be an assistant editor at the newspaper there, so we got in a visit as well. Unfortunately, most of what we wanted to see was closed. We could only see the dutch windmill at a distance and the historic village was closed for the season. There were a few shops open, however, so we browsed a bit.

The wooden shoe factory was a hit, as was the candle shop where they make decorative carved candles. (The candle shop was featured on an episode of "How it's Made", in case anyone caught that.) Ethan amused himself by putting the wick of a little mushroom candle up his nostril. Very educational, no?

It Matters

2008-11-05T16:02:00.009-05:00

"Joe" the "Plumber"

2008-10-16T21:25:00.003-04:00

Sorry, I just couldn't resist this. So ironic. Turns out "Joe the Plumber":

1) Isn't named Joe. His name is Samuel.

So.... "Sam the Plumber"? Well, no, because he:

2) Isn't a plumber. He's not even a journeyman or apprentice plumber, and therefore may have been working illegally in Toledo. (Though there are no complaints against him, so no proof there.)

But those are details, right? The point is that this upstanding, middle class American doesn't want to pay more taxes. Is that so wrong? Well no, but actually not paying them kinda is. Turns out Joe/Sam:

3) Has a lien on his house for the $1,182.98 he owes in back taxes to the State of Ohio. Oops.

Poor guy. This may turn out to be 15 minutes of fame he could have done without!

Source: This article from the Minneapolis-St. Paul Star Tribune

Back to the Garden

2008-10-15T11:36:00.005-04:00

I took a break from my garden this year, since Ethan was at a very attention/vigilance-demanding stage during the spring and summer. It was absolutely the right decision, but I've missed having my own produce right out the back door.

Next year, Ethan will be able to toddle around the garden with me, digging holes and generally entertaining himself. So I've been getting ready for next spring. Having a baby in September of last year meant that the garden never did get "put to bed" in 2007. There were dead garden plants and weeds everywhere. Not to mention gobs of grasshoppers, which I recently learned thrive in messy, weedy garden plots. Earlier this fall, I got out and cleaned up the mess. Then last week, Alexander and I weeded one corner and planted lots of garlic.

This week, we finally managed to get the tiller from my parents' house (thanks solely to my father -- thanks Dad!) Firmin tilled up everything but the garlic patch yesterday before dinner. After dinner, I worked like a maniac until after dark, picking out as many quackgrass rhizomes as I could -- a whole wheelbarrow full, and there are still more than I want to think about left in the garden! Those plants play to win.

Today, I gave the kids the day off from homeschooling so that they could help me get the composted manure in and plant the cover crop (field peas and fava beans). A trip to Lowes for the manure put Ethan to sleep, so we were able to work uninterupted by him. Brianna and Alexander were incredibly helpful and we got the work done in about an hour.

Here's what it looks like now:
It's not much to look at, but my garden has never been so nice and clean in the fall! I think I'll add some straw or mulched leaves when I can get some. This isn't the final look, however, as the cover crop will come up and cover the plot during the winter, fixing nitrogen into the soil and discouraging weeds.

It feels good to get back to the soil. It feels good to work hard and see progress. It feels good to share this endeavor as a family, each of us doing our part to provide some portion of our own food. It feels worth every minute.

It also feels small. I'm starting to gently work on Firmin (because I'll definently need his help) about putting a large plot further back on our property. I'd like to grow quantities of bigger crops -- squash, melon, potatoes, corn -- that I don't have room for now. But that would entail breaking a lot of sod and building a good fence to keep out the many critters (including deer) that inhabit our urban "nature oasis" back there. Getting it set up would be a project for next summer, with planting beginning next fall at the earliest. I'll let you know how it goes. Those of you who know Firmin can help me butter him up! You know -- what a great husband he is, how nice our land is, how it would be perfect for a big garden, how educational it would be for the kids, etc., etc. ;o)

Remote Rant

2008-10-08T18:03:00.003-04:00

Unlike our TV, VCR, stereo and DVD player, which all have buttons for the most basic functions, our cable box* is NOT operable without the remote control. Whose dumb idea was this?? I don't know about other families, but in our house, remote control devices can be harder to find than an empty parking spot the day after Thanksgiving. Sure, the kids bear part of the blame, but I suspect even childless adults occasionally find themselves wandering around the living room, tossing sofa cushions and cursing. (And without kids they can curse with impunity, lucky bast... er, dogs!) Firmin and I have been known to carry a remote out of the room and absentmindedly set it down somewhere unlikely, such as the kitchen counter, the dining room table, and once, inside the refrigerator! So kids or no kids, who in their right mind would create a cable box -- the device which not only must be "on", but is also the only way to change channels -- without at least basic on/off buttons and channel up/down buttons? Then you could at least watch the show of your choice while you search for the remote!

You won't be surprised to learn that today I spent 10 increasingly frustraing minutes looking for the cable remote. I had Ethan on my hip wanting to nurse, the other kids were outside, and all I wanted was a few minutes of veg time in front of the TV. Too much for a busy homeschooling mom to ask?? The box was already on, so I could turn on the tv manually and get a picture, but all that got me was 10 minutes of some unbearably manic show on Cartoon Network before I finally found the remote...

In the trash.

Sigh.

*Background: We are in the middle of our bi-annual cable TV phase. We get the 3 or 6 month deal for World Cup Soccer and Summer Olympics/Presidential election years, then turn it off again. :o)

Obama Rally

2008-10-02T16:55:00.003-04:00

The Big Guy came to town today, and we were there! (Along with about 17,000 other people!) It was a whole-day affair, since we had to get there early. Even so, the line stretched half-way across (the very large) campus when we got into it 3 1/2 hours before the start of the rally. Note the que in the far background of this picture:

The kids held up great, all things considered. We ran into some friends with kids, so that helped a lot. As long as the line was, we ended up in a pretty good spot. I was unlucky in my attempts to get a good shot of Obama (they were all blurry), but here's a picture of Debbie Stabinow, Michigan's junior senator, who introduced him. It gives you a sense of the view we had.

Here we all are! Ethan loved flirting with everyone around us. College girls especially are a real sucker for him, and he eats up the attention. Xander was bored by the end and kept wondering why Obama kept talking for so long! (We sweetened the deal for him by ending the day at an ice cream shop in downtown East Lansing. Yum.) Brianna didn't pay close attention to the speech (of course), but she seemed to appreciate at least a little bit how historic this moment is. She was glad we came. By the time Obama took the stage, the skies were threatening, but luckily the rain held off. Only one person in the audience fainted. All in all, a great day! :o)

Ethan

2008-09-27T17:16:00.007-04:00

What a difference a year makes:

September 2007

September 2008

Happy Birthday to my littlest guy!

(all shots taken on Ethan's exact birthday)

Be a Follower!

2008-09-27T16:56:00.003-04:00

I'm working on updating some of the elements on the boarders of this blog. Check out the new blog roll on the right, for example. I've added several new blogs, plus you can see a snippet of the latest post on each blog. Cool, huh?

I've also added a "followers" gadget. I've seen this on some other blogs and thought I'd try it out. If you read this blog regularly or semi-regularly, you can add yourself as a "follower", either publicly or privately. This is a good way to let me know you enjoy the blog without having to post anything in the comments, which I know not everyone likes to do. (Though I love reading the comments, so I hope those who *are* inclined to comment will continue to do so!) It also allows me and other readers to find your blog if you have one. There is a place for a picture, but you don't need to have one.

Dancing on My Grave

2008-09-15T15:26:00.003-04:00

We had very heavy rains this weekend. Today, the kids and I marveled at how far the rivers in our area have over-spilled their banks. Brianna and Alexander wanted to scout a section of new trail running behind a cemetery near our house. We drove into the cemetery and parked near an embankment overlooking the trail. The kids jumped out of the van and ran to get a better look. They pointed and laughed and romped along the ridge for a while before skipping and running back to me to report their findings.

I loved seeing their joy in that place, oblivious to the remains below their feet and the granite and marble reminders of generations past. I was reminded of the day of my Grandfather's funeral some years ago. At the graveside, we adults were somber. But his little great-grandchildren, far too young to appreciate their loss, played gleefully among the leaves on that glorious October afternoon. The pastor saw them and smiled. "I love seeing young children at a funeral" he said. "They remind us that life carries on."

As the memory faded, my thoughts turned, unbidden, to my own mortality. Some day, I thought, children may romp happily on the spot where my remains are buried or scattered. Children of children of children yet unborn. I was infused with a feeling of peace and joy. It was the most beautiful thought about death (particularly my own) that I have ever had. I pray that I may be so blessed. And if I am, I hope that somehow my soul will be aware of them, of their energy, of their joy, of their dancing into the future.

Everyday Sacred

2008-09-10T21:33:00.008-04:00

For the longest time, I needed an apron. I spend a substantial amount of time in the kitchen, and going apron-less was proving hard on my clothes. The aprons I already owned were of the stiff, canvass, men's grill-out style. They bunched around my waist and were too big around the neck. They're simply not comfortable to leave on for any task besides cooking, so I tended to take them off during a break in the kitchen action, then forgot to put them back on when I went in to finish up. I needed a nice woman's apron -- one with full coverage, soft fabric, and a narrower waist. One that I could leave on all day if need be. But there were two problems. First, I couldn't find anything for sale that seemed to fit my needs. Second, I had a mental block: it seemed so 1950's house-wifey to wear something like that! To make matters worse, I often wear long skirts, so I needed one with a full skirt to properly protect my clothes. Forget 1950's housewife, think Amish farm wife! Eek!

The I attended Friends General Conference Summer Gathering. I participated in a week-long workshop (run by Robin M.) that addressed, among other things, ways in which contemporary Friends can find new meaning in the practices of early Quakers. One of the peculiarities of early Friends was that they did not celebrate holidays. Partly this was because of the pagan origin of many holidays, but also it reflected their belief that every day was sacred, that every act and every moment should bring us closer to The Light, to God.

Now, in practice, I'm not very good at remembering the sacredness of mundane moments. Not many people are. This is why we create rituals and yes, even holidays -- to remind us of the sacredness of life and this moment. Yet there is danger in ritual as well. Early Friends were harsh critics of "empty forms": rituals that were performed mindlessly out of duty or habit. Rather than sacred, such rote rituals were a denial of the Living Spirit within. Thus, to the extent that Quakers had rituals at all, they tended to serve some practical purpose as well. For example, plain clothing, without extraneous trim or complicated styling, reminded them of their faith, but also served to simplify their morning routine, ostensibly leaving more mental space for God and more money for good causes.

Thinking about early Quakers and the sacredness of daily life provided me with a shift in my frame of reference. Ruining my clothing was wasteful and inconsistent with the testimonies of simplicity and stewardship, but that wasn't quite enough to get me past my cultural hang-ups about aprons. The concept of every day being sacred was the clincher. I would make the apron myself, and both the making of it and the wearing of it would be a sacred act.

When I put on my apron, I'm reminded of why I do so -- to be a good steward of my clothing, sure, but also to provide sustenance for my family, to cook (as often as possible) in a way that is consistent with my ecological and community values, and to remember to make mental room for the Sacred, the Divine, even in the most mundane of tasks. Who'd have thought an apron could do all that?

I still feel a tad house-wifey when I wear it. (I'm thankful I'm not called to wear it outside the house!) Yet, in truth, the slight discomfort is probably a good thing. Without it, I wouldn't remember all that the apron signifies.

Photo credit: Brianna Charlot

Blog Love

2008-09-06T19:58:00.004-04:00

A little Blog love from my friend Angela! Thank you kindly!

Here are the guidelines for this award:

The winner can put the logo on her/his blog
Link the person you received the award from
Nominate at least 7 other blogs
Put links of those blogs on yours
Leave a message on the blogs nominated

I'm going to break #7 because Angela's award list included nearly all the blogs I read! So here are a few blogs I love in addition to the ones Angela mentioned. I love these blogs because they routinely make me think more deeply:

An Even Half Dozen
Imperfect Serenity
What Canst Thou Say?
The Upside Down World

Not Back to School 2008

2008-09-03T00:35:00.000-04:00

Lucky 13

2008-08-26T17:06:00.003-04:00

What is the proper celebration of a 13th wedding anniversary?

What was that? Staying home and watching the Democratic National Convention, did you say? Hey, that's what we thought too! We'll be sure to snuggle on the sofa while we watch. :o)

Oh, and Happy Birthday, Sis! Thanks for giving up "your" day to celebrate "ours" back in 1995. We love 'ya!

Making Ice Cream

2008-08-21T22:06:00.008-04:00

My new Kitchen Aid mixer came with a free ice cream maker attachment, which arrived in the mail last week. I've been promising the kids ice cream, and today was the day. I adapted a recipe from this book:
The recipe was nice and simple -- milk, cream, sugar, eggs, flavoring. (They suggested a historically typical lemon, we went with mint chocolate chip.)

I was able to make it using local ingredients, except for the chocolate and perhaps the mint oil. The cream and milk came from the cow herd we own a share in. The eggs from a family in our Quaker meeting who raise a few chickens in their back yard, the sugar was Michigan beet sugar. Even the mint flavoring *could* be local -- there are big mint farms in this area.

The recipe begins with a milk/sugar/egg yolk custard. The book states, "Don't expect your custard to be yellow like Eliza Jane [Wilder]'s unless your cream comes from grass-fed Guernseys and your eggs from scratch-fed chickens."

Check. Check. The cows are Jerseys rather than Guernesys, but that's a minor detail. ;o) I don't know why the fact that my custard was bright yellow made me so happy, but it did. (What I said in this post may have something to do with it.) Can all that beta-carotine and omega-3's make up for the huge hit of saturated fat? No? Oh well...

As much as I enjoyed getting in touch with the past, there is a time and place for modern conveniences. Like whipping egg whites to a stiff peak and turning an ice cream dasher for 30 minutes.

I don't have any pictures of the finished product. We were too busy eating!

Campfire Baby

2008-08-13T17:38:00.003-04:00

Just for Fun!

2008-08-04T17:13:00.004-04:00

Brianna and Alexander are off to "Grandma Camp" for a couple of days, Firmin is at work and Ethan is sleeping. With all the things I could/should be doing, here's what I'm doing instead. (Thanks for the inspiration, Angela!)

If you get a yen to similarly waste some time, head on over to this site and see what your yearbook photo might have been...

1952
This would have been a decent look for me, though it
would take half a can of hairspray to stay that way.

1960
Gotta love the glasses!

1968
My mother's hair used to look like this.

1980
My hair was very much like this in 1980, except I was 9. It was my first perm!

1992
The year I graduated college. In real life I had a smart-looking, very short cut.

Quakers and the Afterlife

2008-07-20T21:30:00.001-04:00

In the comments under "Gathered in the Spirit", Kimberly (Ma) asked about the Quaker conception of Heaven and the afterlife. I decided to make the answer (such as it is) a separate post, so that I can easily link to resources for anyone interested. I'm no expert in the subject, and I've tried to frame my comments in a way that avoids making blanket statements about what any particular sect of Friends believe. Quakers are notorious for having a wide variety of takes on many issues of theology. Additional input from Friends in the comments is welcome.

First of all, there are several branches of Quakers, so it's hard to say what "Quakers" believe. Evangelical Friends would probably have beliefs about heaven, hell and salvation that are very similar to other evangelicals in the U.S. Among FGC (Friends General Conference) Friends (theologically liberal) and FUM (Friends United Meeting) Friends (with a theology somewhere in between -- "mainstream"?), I think there is a wide range of belief.

My Meeting is affiliated with FGC, and I suspect that few FGC Friends take a literal view of the Biblical descriptions of heaven and hell. Some would probably describe themselves as agnostic on the issue, not really knowing what the afterlife holds, but having some sense that there will be "something more" -- a union with God/Spirit/The Universe, or something similar. Those with a more traditional view of God and the afterlife probably believe something akin to the argument put forward by Phillip Gulley and James Mulholland, Quaker pastors in the moderate tradition. (I think they are affiliated with FUM, but I'm not sure about that.) They authored a compelling book on the subject of salvation: If Grace is True: Why God Will Save Every Person. Their view of God and Christ is similar to most mainstream Christians, but as the title suggests, they reject the notion that those who do not accept salvation through Christ in this life will be thrown into a literal hell. I feel comfortable in positing that the views of most Quakers in my branch fall somewhere along a scale from the Gulley/Mulholland view to a serious doubt about the existence of any afterlife at all. (With lots of people somewhere in between.)

Quakers (of the liberal and perhaps moderate stripes) do tend to put more emphasis on the creation of God's Kingdom on Earth. Many would describe humans as being in "co-creation" with The Divine in this endeavor. In that sense, the Religious Society of Friends really is more of a "here and now" religion than many other Christian denominations in the United States.

Clear as mud? :o) Hope that helps answer Kimberly's question. If Quaker readers feel I've made a mis-characterization or have anything to add that might be helpful or interesting, please comment!

Interested in visiting a Friend's meeting? Find one here.

Summer Nature

2008-07-16T10:07:00.003-04:00

Gathered in the Spirit

2008-07-07T21:36:00.004-04:00

I spent last week in Johnstown, PA at Friends General Conference, or "Gathering", as it is known to attenders. Quakers, most from the liberal branch of the Society, gather once a year for a week of learning, fellowship, worship, spiritual exploration, and fun. This was my first Gathering, and Brianna and Ethan came along.

There is so much I could write about the activities and events we took part in: my wonderful week-long workshop on the connections between primitive and post-modern Quakerism, lead by Robin M.; the uplifting concert by Tribe 1, in which Brianna participated with other children on stage; the opportunity to meet Eileen Flanagan in person (and attend a discussion session with her on Quaker parenting) after enjoying her blog for a couple of years now. I could go on and on about how impressive the children's program was. Brianna had a great time and Ethan seemed content to spend every morning and a couple of evenings apart from me in the loving child care. (I was floored -- so much for separation anxiety!)

But what I will always remember from FGC 2008 had little to do with the event itself. As the kids and I suffered a "series of unfortunate events" during the first half of the week, we were constantly and consistently surrounded by loving support, help, and encouragement. I can't even recall all the acts of kindness; there were so, so many. Friends from my home meeting came through in a big way, so that all of us could get what we needed, even when that meant being in two different places at the same time. I was lucky and grateful that many people in our Meeting were in attendance. At the same time, Friends who were previously strangers to me (and some who remain so still), were just as cheerfully generous and helpful. One woman from the children's program even accompanied me to the emergency room with Ethan without being asked to do so. I remain forever grateful to her and to so many others. (Ethan is fine -- it wasn't a true emergency, just something that needed immediate attention. Still, stressful enough when you're in a strange town!)

Clearly, this was truly a gathering of people who are attuned to God's holy Spirit and living according to their Inward Light. Several Bible passages occurred to me as I contemplated all that had happened, and my emotions about everything (grateful, embarrassed, exhausted, joyful, contemplative...)

First is Galatians 5: 22 - 23: But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law.

Indeed. I saw every one of these fruits in action over and over again. What I wouldn't give to live in such a community every single day.

Then I thought of the truism of St. Teresa of Avila: "God has no hands but our hands to do his work today."

And of Jesus's words in Matthew: “Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father, inherit the Kingdom prepared for you from the creation of the world. For I was hungry, and you fed me. I was thirsty, and you gave me a drink. I was a stranger, and you invited me into your home. I was naked, and you gave me clothing. I was sick, and you cared for me. I was in prison, and you visited me.’

“Then these righteous ones will reply, ‘Lord, when did we ever see you hungry and feed you? Or thirsty and give you something to drink? Or a stranger and show you hospitality? Or naked and give you clothing? When did we ever see you sick or in prison and visit you?’

“And the King will say, ‘I tell you the truth, when you did it to one of the least of these my brothers and sisters, you were doing it to me!’

So, as Friends were standing in for God by ministering to me, I was standing in for God simply by being in need and accepting their help in love and gratitude. We were God to each other in those moments! I can think of nothing more profound than that.

Thank You Hillary

2008-06-07T13:24:00.005-04:00

I must admit up front that I've never been in favor of you winning the nomination. The reasons why don't matter any more. That said, I want to thank you for running for president and for being as successful as you were. Because of you, my daughter will never have trouble envisioning a woman as president. You reminded the nation that women can be funny, smart and tough all at the same time. You (and Bill) showed us that a powerful husband can support a powerful wife in her own endeavors. You've proven that it's not always wise to listen to those who tell you why you can't or you shouldn't. Thank you for being brave enough to blaze this trail for the next woman who will travel along it. America is in your debt.

P.S. When I searched Google Images for a photo of you, I noticed that the first seven images, along with several others on the first page were either deliberately unflattering or manipulated to be mocking of you. You've endured more than your share hostility and mockery. It's shameful, and I'm sorry you had to bear it.

Oh, and thanks for stepping down now. ;o)

Sobering Thoughts

2008-05-27T02:43:00.005-04:00

The other day, I was waiting at a traffic light behind a car with an "Obama '08" bumper sticker. The '08 reminded me that the first presidential year that I was eligible to vote in (and did vote in) also ended in an eight: 1988. I was 18.

My next thought wiped the smile off my face. That was 20 years ago. I have been able to vote for 20 years! Gulp!

It gets worse. I next realized that while I'll be 20 years away from 18 this summer, Brianna will be only 10 years away from it. Whoa!

Sobering yes, though not depressing. I don't feel old yet. But still...

His "Tree Spot"

2008-05-14T00:16:00.001-04:00

Wordless Wednesday

Observations From My First 8 Years of Motherhood

2008-05-11T11:47:00.005-04:00

1) Babies need to learn that they are separate beings from their mothers. Mothers need to learn this too. It just takes us longer.

2) The little things that make motherhood seem so "uncool" to some teens and young adults -- being thrilled over a dandelion bouquet, cherishing a cheap piece of jewelry that your child picked out especially for you, decorating the Christmas tree with child-made ornaments from years past -- turn out to be deep reservoirs of joy.

3) Regular bath towels dry a baby just as well as expensive hooded baby towels.

4) Pre-washing all your first baby's clothes in Dreft is a ritual that evokes the dream of the soft, sweet, cuddly baby. It makes you feel warm, motherly, and special. It's a wonderful thing. Do it, and don't feel ashamed.

5) Pre-washing subsequent baby's clothes, many of which are hand-me-downs from your fist baby, is a ritual that evokes powerful feelings from memory and experience. It's a wonderful thing. You can skip the Dreft.

6) Every child is different. So obvious, yet so interesting to observe. What's really amazing is that many differences are apparent from birth.

7) Mom's mood sets the tone for the day, so the kids tend to be cranky on exactly the days we can least handle it well. Sad but true.

8) First babies start eating "finger foods" when they are developmentally ready and after each main ingredient in the food (oats, wheat, etc.) has first been introduced separately without ill effect.

9) Subsequent babies start eating "finger foods" as soon as they learn to crawl under the table. Luckily, this bothers you a whole lot less than it would have with the first child.

10) Unless you suspect a problem, don't watch the clock when you are nursing your new baby. (Took me until the 3rd kid to stop caring about the darn clock, but it was SO much less stressful!)

11) Childhood is short from a parent's point of view. Don't waste time hurrying.

12) Never expect to finish much of anything in one sitting. (Ethan's up from his nap now -- gotta wrap this up!)

Happy Mother's Day to all the Moms out there, especially my own! (Love you Mom!)

Also special wishes to those of you who have been with my on this journey from the beginning. Look how far we've come!

Taking Attendance

2008-04-25T21:45:00.003-04:00

There has been some new legislation proposed in Michigan for homeschoolers. At the moment, Michigan is very homeschool-friendly, and not surprisingly, most of us homeschoolers would just as soon see nothing change. I won't get into the details of the bill that has been introduced; that's not even what I want to talk about. Rather I want to draw attention to Representative Mark Medows (D) brain-wave, revealed in his most recent constituent newsletter: Require homeschoolers to report attendance. Anyone who thinks this is a helpful idea doesn't understand how homeschooling works, or more importantly, WHY homeschooling works.

My children are "in attendance" in a learning environment every single day, even when we don't crack a single "school" book. (We never go a day without cracking some kind of book!) Sometimes their learning is facilitated by sitting down with our school materials. A good deal of math skill has been acquired in this way, for example. However, learning of a high order happens in many non-traditional ways as well. My kids know quite a lot about space, for example, even though we have never formally studied astronomy. Trips to the university planetarium and observatory, back-yard star gazing, and conversation with me and their dad has resulted in a wealth of knowledge that I dare say transcends what most 5 and 7 year olds know about the subject. They can identify numerous local birds, both by sight and call. They know about the habitats, migration, and feeding preferences of a number of local species. We've never studied ornithology, we just pay attention to the birds and to people who know interesting things about them. When the children see an unfamiliar one, they run for the guide book. I don't even have to suggest it! These are just two examples that come to mind. There are many more.

Think about something you have learned informally, yet know or do quite well. Maybe you learned to cook by watching your mother, or learned a great deal about your family's heritage through your own independent reading and research, or learned to identify the good and bad bugs and weeds in your garden, or taught yourself how to invest in the stock market. Was your learning process any less legitimate because it didn't come from a "class" or because no one sat you down and "taught" you? Of course not. On the contrary, the things you learned informally are probably some of the things you best remember and most enjoy knowing or doing.

There is certainly a place for formal teaching, especially of skills like math, reading, writing and reasoning -- the building blocks for acquiring and sharing knowledge. Both brick-and-mortar schools and home-schools can do a good job of imparting these skills. All kids experience informal learning as well, perhaps during breaks in the school day, and certainly at home. But kids these days are losing more and more of that unstructured, delight-led time. One of the strengths of homeschooling is that it allows extra time for the important casual, organic learning that comes from interest-based inquiry and free, child-directed play. It allows for an abundant mix of time alone, time with siblings, time with parents, and time with friends. My children have benefited enormously from this "extra" time, expanding their knowledge base and growing in intangible, un-testable ways. Ask a college admissions rep why they like homeschooled students, and you'll see that it's not because their heads are full of more stuff they learned while hitting the books:

“Homeschooled students, by and large, are a liberal arts college’s dream,” says Sabena Moretz-Van Namen, associate director of admission at the University of Richmond. “We want more students who think outside the box and color outside the lines. Homeschoolers often have developed into self-directed learners. Traditional high school students sometimes lack that trait.” Read the full article.

If I ever have to report to the state, I'd better print up some of these, because I don't know how I could report them "absent" on any given day.

Celebrating With Our Neighbors

2008-04-21T11:02:00.004-04:00

Alexander and Brianna follow along in the Haggadah. Note Xander's yarmulke!

The Passover Seder was wonderful. We were immediately "adopted" by a couple (our family doctor's parents, believe it or not) who invited us to sit with them and helped us navigate all the steps of the evening. Someone Firmin knows from work was also there. Thankfully, it was an abbreviated Seder -- it still lasted about 2 1/2 hours, which was about perfect for the kids. They really enjoyed it and came to appreciate the difference between reading about something and experiencing it. I could tell that this little community up the street from us is a warm and loving one, much like our own Quaker "family".

Alexander is still singing the snippets of songs that we can remember, such as Dayyenu, and cherishing the yo-yo he got as a "consolation prize" for not being the finder of the Afikomen. He also helped act out the 10 plagues, and raised his hand to answer some of the Rabbi's questions. (Book study does count for something!) Brianna took a more "observational" approach, as is her style, and she also had a good time. By the end of the Seder, all of the children -- including Brianna -- had escaped to the hallways to play hide-and-seek.

In addition to the blessings we were hopeful for, I found one unexpected bonus. I'm never much of a drinker, so abstaining from alcohol while I'm pregnant or nursing is a no-brainer. However, in the interest of balancing tradition with the needs of my nursling, I drank one of the traditional four glasses of wine, spread out over about 2 hours. (I kept cutting it with grape juice as the night went on, so that by the time I finally drained the glass it was mostly juice.) Last night, Ethan slept like a dream, waking only once, and even then, not enough to nurse. Maybe it was just a coincidence? ;o)

Other People's Holidays

2008-04-13T17:26:00.003-04:00

Kids get you out of your comfort zone. Or they should, anyway. Here's how Alexander is expanding my world these days:

The other day, we read the Bible story of the Exodus, specifically the 10 Plagues that God visits on Egypt in an attempt to persuade Pharaoh to let the Israelites leave. These plagues are gruesome and the last one is violent, with the death of thousands of innocents, including animals and children. I was a little uncomfortable reading it. Alexander had no such trepidation. He thinks it's one of the best stories he's ever heard.

A river of blood? Eeeww! Cool!

Knee deep in frogs, first live ones, then dead ones? How excitingly awful!

A Pharaoh who keeps changing his mind about letting his slaves go? "Arrgh! God is going to have to send more plagues!" (Great minds think alike...)

The death of every first born human and animal in the whole country? A: "Wait -- what about Moses and his people?" Me: "If they put the lamb's blood over the door, everyone in that house lived." A: "Oh! Phew! THAT plague probably worked then!" (Did he read ahead?)

Our children's Bible contains some historic and cultural information in the sidebars. The sidebars on this page explained about how the holiday of Passover is a remembrance of this story of how the Israelites were delivered out of slavery in Egypt. Alexander was *all over* a holiday about this wonderful tale!

A: When is Passover?

Me: I'm not exactly sure, but it's some time around now. I can go look on the calender.

A: Can we do it? Can we do Passover? We could do it tomorrow -- it's OK if it's not the real day!

Me: Well... I've never participated in a Passover Seder. I don't really know how to do it. Let's get some books about it at the library tomorrow.

After checking the calender and seeing that Passover has not happened yet this year, and after reading some books about Passover, Alexander's interest in the holiday is still strong. We live just down the road from a Reform Jewish synagogue. I offered to call them and find out if they have any Passover services that are visitor-friendly. He loved the idea. I discovered that calling a house of worship that you are a total stranger to is a little scary! (What if I inadvertently offend or sound really ignorant, because I AM?) But hey, I'm a brave mama. I called today and left a message. ;o) If they call me back and welcome us, Alexander and I are going. I'll keep you posted...

Typical

2008-03-23T00:14:00.004-04:00

Barak Obama has reached out and grabbed the "third rail" of U.S. race relations with both hands and he's feeling the heat. He gave a beautiful speech in response to questions about his association with Jeremiah Wright. Then he stepped in political doo-doo by saying that his Grandmother was a "typical white person" in that she has internalized some racial stereotypes. White folks are now all in a dither about this statement, wondering aloud whether Obama believes that all whites are racist.

Well. Here we go. I'll grant that Barak Obama made a political gaffe with the "typical" comment, but I think he spoke more truthfully than many of us white people (especially white liberals) would like to admit.

I invite my white friends and family to consider these examples from my own life and see if they don't resonate a little -- maybe a lot. Maybe you'll be uncomfortable, but until we start admitting that we are infected by assumptions of white superiority, we are not going be able to recognize where we need to get better. Being hampered by stereotypes is not the same as being racist, but it can lead us in that direction if we don't take a good hard look at it and question our assumptions and reactions.

Scenario #1
I am standing in line at a McDonald's one day several years ago -- before I had children of my own. A little black boy of about 4 or 5 is using his finger to pretend to shoot various targets in the restaurant while waiting in line ahead of me. I am disturbed by this behavior. After a few moments, I realize that my reaction is contingent on his race. If the boy were white or Asian, I wouldn't be disturbed at all. I might be disapproving (remember this is pre-kids!) but I wouldn't be *disturbed*. I would interpret his finger shooting in light of an internal image of rowdy little boy-hood and nothing more. I am ashamed of myself, but there it is -- a racist thought that I didn't even recognized as such at first. Without conscious thought, I am interpreting the boy's behavior in light of an internal image of black teen gangsters, even though there is nothing "ghetto" about the kid -- he's wearing normal clothes and accompanied by an average looking middle-class parent. I remember this incident sometimes when my own little 5 year old brown boy is playing rough and rowdy in public.

Scenario #2
When it becomes clear, near the end of college, that I might end up married to Firmin, I begin to dream of our future together. I have grown up happily in small-towns, so my default image of family life is small-town life. It hits me suddenly, like a ton of bricks: if I marry him, I will probably never live in a small town. If we do, questions of our safety and the psychological impact on our children will have to be considered. I can't believe I never really *got* this before -- if you are black in America, you cannot freely live wherever you want. All options are not open to you, at least not without considerable downsides. The implications go beyond the niceties of low population and big lawns. It affects your career opportunities, educational options for your children and more. My world both shrinks and expands in that instant. For the first time in my life, I am on the other side of race privilege. I hadn't even known I was on a side before this. Crazy, huh?

Scenario #3
I'm walking down the street and I see a fast food bag full of trash come flying out the window of a passing car. The people in the car are black. I take note of that.
Typical.

Thanks to Jennifer at Faking It for the inspiration to blog about this topic.

"Caution: Razor Sharp Stone! Not for Children!"

2008-03-14T15:46:00.004-04:00

Here's what you can miss out on if you always play attention to those warning labels:

Saturday Pursuits

2008-03-01T21:20:00.003-05:00

I always love Aliki's "Saturday Pursuits" posts. For once, my family did some interesting things on a Saturday!

The igloo was started last weekend, but finished today. (Just in time for pouring rain and 40 degree temps predicted for tomorrow! Ack! They covered it with a tarp to protect it from the rain. We'll see if it survives...)

The "fancy" planes are Alexander's. The colorful planes in a stack are Brianna's.

My Quaker Children Build a Snow Man

2008-02-14T15:48:00.003-05:00

Scene: Children are playing outside, rolling large balls of snow. I step out to put a bag of trash in the barrel.

Alexander: Mommy, we need my sword! Can you get it for us?

Me: Which one, the wooden one or the plastic one? (Clearly, I am an enabler.)

A: The wooden one. You know what we're doing?

Me: Building a snow knight?

A: No, we're going to build a snow man, then throw the sword at him and stick him with it. He's like our target!

I don't think they even bothered to make a head. Maybe that's a good thing. Anyway, no sentimental photos of smiling children next to a carrot-nosed Frosty this year. The snow man's body lies hacked to death in our yard. Ah, childhood!

The Final Car Seat (I hope)!

2008-02-01T11:41:00.000-05:00

Ethan weighed in at a whooping 19 lbs., 1 oz. at his 4 month check up a couple of weeks ago. The infant car seat we had borrowed from a friend had a weight limit of 20 lbs, so it was time for a new one. Needless to say, I wanted to get one that was BIG, with good safety and a high weight limit. The one we choose is rated for rear facing to 35 lbs and forward facing to 70 lbs. I had 60 lb, 48 inch Alexander sit in it and he fit just fine at the highest head rest level. Cool. (I wish I'd snapped *his* picture in it too!) The company manufactures race car seats, so I feel pretty good about the safety too. It cost an arm and a leg, but who can put a price on this precious face? :o)

My car seat fanatic friends (you know who you are!) will notice that the head rest and shoulder straps are not properly adjusted for Ethan in this picture. He was just trying it out. Rest assured that we adjusted it properly before we installed it. We're off to have the installation inspected later today, just to be sure.

Men of the Hour

2008-01-04T20:36:00.000-05:00

I love that these two guys won last night. I'm leaning heavily toward Obama as my presidential choice, so of course I was happy to see him win big. It does my soul good to see a black man win so handily in a white state. I was happy to see Huckabee come out on top too, in spite of the fact that I disagree with him strongly on some issues. I like his populist streak and the fact that he's "sticking it" to the moneyed elite of his party. They both speak a message of hope and reconciliation and are kinda-sorta trying to run positive campaigns. (I'm also comforted by the fact that Huckabee would almost certainly be a very long-shot in the general election, especially against Obama.)

They have a long way to go, and many obstacles ahead, but the race is on and well run so far. Go get 'em boys!

Time for a picture!

2007-12-31T12:30:00.000-05:00

Ethan is growing SO fast! Here he is, now 3 1/2 months:

**************

Today was supposed to be the day we jumped back into homeschooling full-bore. I even made schedules and lesson plans! But life intervened, as it tends to. Ethan was up for the first half of the night, crying (screaming) with teething pain. (It's really unfair for a little guy to start teething before he can reliably maneuver a teething soother into his mouth!) Brianna was up several times vomiting. It's now after noon and she's still in bed feeling yucky. :o( Of course the kids' travails meant that Firmin and I got precious little sleep. Alexander was the only one in any condition to do school this morning, but he was more than happy to ditch math for the prospect of exclusive use of his ill sister's new snow board! Oh well, we'll try again Wednesday or Thursday.

Happy New Year to everyone!

A Day Late and a Dollar -- O.K., Many Dollars --Short

2007-12-26T22:45:00.000-05:00

My friend over at Memoirs of a Chaotic Mommy tagged me for this meme well before Christmas, but I just didn't have time to get to it before the big day. My computer time is getting more limited now that Ethan is more awake. (He's nearly 3 1/2 months old already!) Plus, our computer room is *freezing* in the winter, so I tend to check email and get out! Which is also why I'm not keeping up with everyone's blogs as much as I would like to. I'm keeping up with reading them better than with commenting on them. I'm more of a lurker these days.

Anyhoo, here are my post Christmas answers:

“Favourite Christmas memory…”

Making breakfast with my sisters every Christmas morning once we got old enough. Our dad insisted on having breakfast before we attacked the presents, and the wait was excruciating for us! So my middle sister and I eventually got the idea to make breakfast as soon as we woke up. We would make something to eat -- at first cereal and toast; later, more elaborate hot breakfasts. Then we would wake our parents (think 6 am) and announce that breakfast was served! When our younger sister got old enough we included her in the ritual. It was a tradition we continued until we left home, though we eventually stopped getting up *quite* so early!

“Favourite Christmas song/carol…”

I love so many of them. I would say "O Holy Night" and "Carol of the Bells"

"Favorite Christmas Movie"

How the Grinch Stole Christmas The older TV-special version, that is.

"Favorite Christmas Character"

Mary. Gotta give props to any woman who gives birth in a stable, lol!

“Favourite Christmas ornament/object…”

No specific one. I have several "special" ornaments that I like about equally.

“Plans for this Christmas…”

We opened presents at home on Christmas morning, then went to my parents house for the afternoon/evening, as usual, and had a wonderful time!

“Is Christmas your favourite holiday?”

Yes, absolutely.

Primary Decisions - Help wanted!

2007-12-12T16:53:00.000-05:00

So. Michigan decided to move it's presidential primary election to January 15 in an attempt to be more relevant to the campaigns. (We used to be a Super Tuesday state.) In future elections, this may pay off, but for this year the effect has been to disenfranchise me as a would-be Democratic voter. Only 4 nominees will be on the Democratic ballot. The rest have boycotted in support of the DNC's policy against states "jumping ahead in line". The two candidates I would be most interested in voting for are among the boycotters. Hillary Clinton will win the non-contest, as the only "top tier" candidate on the ballot. I would likely vote unenthusiastically for Hillary over a Republican if she became the nominee, but I'm not psyched to vote for her in the primary.

Lucky for me, I have an alternative: voting in the Republican primary! We have an "open" primary, which means I do not have to register as a Republican to participate. I'm not looking to be a spoiler -- I want to vote for the Republican that would be the most acceptable president to me. If only I could decide whom that would be!

I thought it might be fun to get some help from my blog friends! If you are going to vote Republican, whom are you supporting and why? If you are voting Democratic, what factors would help you make a decision like this? Please keep it as positive as possible -- you can critique the candidates' platforms or records and talk about your own priorities, but please do not cast aspersions on a candidate's supporters or disrespect another person's priorities. (Disagreement does not equal disrespect, as I think we all know.)

I can't wait to hear what you all think. I'm finding it a fun exercise to choose from a group of candidates I normally wouldn't consider. Do I go straight pro/con on policy questions, or -- especially after the disaster that has been Bush II -- do I pay more attention to honesty and integrity?

Discuss...

Branding Babies

2007-11-30T16:44:00.000-05:00

They sure start 'em early. I've been noticing how many of Ethan's clothes have labels on the outside, sticking out from the side of the garment. (They're *all* on the left side too, regardless of brand. How did that happen?) I didn't really think much of it at first, which only goes to show how insidious the culture of brand identity has become. Not until I realized that nearly every outfit he owns has an external tag, did I start to think about how weird that is.

It's a small thing, but what bothers me about these little tags is what they stand for: the fact that children are targeted by marketers from birth with the intention of establishing brand loyalties. What bothers me even more is that I can't easily opt myself or my kids out of this trend. I've tried to opt out to some extent, and it's hard work -- time consuming and often more expensive. Sigh.

The ubiquitousness of these external tags may be recent, but it's not really new. Some of the innovators of the idea were absolutely "up-front" about it. Funny how I never thought of this label as offensive:
I guess if it's around long enough, it becomes normal. Not sure how I feel about that.

Class Privileges

2007-11-10T18:02:00.000-05:00

I saw this meme on Friendly Mama's blog, and thought it interesting. As Americans, we tend to compare ourselves to those in the social class above us, which can blind us to our own class privileges, especially if we grew up of modest means. This exercise provides a way to think about our privileges in a more objective way.

Friendly Mama found it on the Social Class and Quakers blog. Anyone who wishes to participate is encouraged to do so. Just leave a comment on the Social Class and Quakers blog and include an acknowledgment that the meme is based on an exercise developed by Will Barratt, Meagan Cahill, Angie Carlen, Minnette Huck, Drew Lurker, Stacy Ploskonka at Illinois State University

I've bolded the statements that are true for me.

Father went to college
Father finished college
Mother went to college -- for 2 years after high school, then quit to marry my father
Mother finished college -- she went back to finish when I went to college and graduated a year ahead of me. :o)
Have any relative who is an attorney, physician, or professor.
Were the same or higher class than your high school teachers -- same: small town middle class
Had more than 50 books in your childhood home
Had more than 500 books in your childhood home -- not when I was a small child, but by the time I was a teen, we may have had that many.
Were read children's books by a parent
Had lessons of any kind before you turned 18
Had more than two kinds of lessons before you turned 18 -- always "parks and rec" group classes -- ballet, gymnastics, swimming, etc.
The people in the media who dress and talk like me are portrayed positively
Had a credit card with your name on it before you turned 18
Your parents (or a trust) paid for the majority of your college costs
Your parents (or a trust) paid for all of your college costs
Went to a private high school
Went to summer camp -- Our regional Bible camp as a kid, and cheerleading camp with my school squad in high school. Each was a one-week stay.
Had a private tutor before you turned 18
Family vacations involved staying at hotels -- We were campers, partly for reasons of cost, partly because my parents liked camping. I went through a stage where I craved hotel vacations, but now I'm a camper too. Like my parents, it's partly because we can't afford long-distance and/or hotel travel, but we also really like our camping vacations.
Your clothing was all bought new before you turned 18
Your parents bought you a car that was not a hand-me-down from them
There was original art in your house when you were a child -- when I was a small child, there was an oil painting of a Chinese junk at sunset that my father got from either Guam or Thailand when he was stationed there during the Vietnam war. My father was also a pretty good amateur photographer, so we had some of his artsy black and white photos in frames.
Had a phone in your room before you turned 18
You and your family lived in a single family house
Your parent(s) owned their own house or apartment before you left home
You had your own room as a child -- not until I was 11, but after that, yes.
Participated in an SAT/ACT prep course
Had your own TV in your room in High School
Owned a mutual fund or IRA in High School or College
Flew anywhere on a commercial airline before you turned 16 -- only once, when I was a baby. We were living near whatever military base my dad was stationed at, and my mother flew (with me) back home to her family for a visit. My grandparents probably paid for the trip.
Went on a cruise with your family
Went on more than one cruise with your family
Your parents took you to museums and art galleries as you grew up
You were unaware of how much heating bills were for your family -- I was unaware of the dollar amount, but I *was* aware that my parents couldn't always pay the bills when I was young. I knew that certain bills could be late without dire penalty because my parents had to choose which ones to pay late sometimes. As far as I know, we never suffered a shut off of utilities or phone or anything, so they were able to scrape by.

For someone who grew up without a lot of money by US standards, I'm struck by how many of these privileges I had. Some of them are by-products of growing up near a college town with parents who were relatively well educated. Museums at the University were free, for example. My parents valued educational experiences and stretched their budget to provide what they could for us. My own kids are in a similar situation. Since we have chosen to be a one-income family (even though Firmin's income isn't extraordinary), we often find ourselves in social demographic groups that usually correlate with higher incomes. We are blessed to live the life we live and have the opportunities that we have.

I appreciate that this meme came from a Quaker blog, though it's clearly appropriate for anyone. Since becoming a Friend, I've found it easier to be content with my blessings as they are. I'm not sure if that is due to growing spiritual maturity, or simply because I'm in frequent contact with people who don't value material things very much. (Indeed, doing with less is looked upon with respect.) Whatever the reason, I'm also aware that it's not too hard to be content when one's basic needs are met. May I remain aware of all the ways in which my path was smoothed by fortunate life circumstances, and may I be sensitive (yet not patronizing) to those who make do with far less.

Super Dad

2007-11-03T20:36:00.001-04:00

In 1994, I got a kitten. Before I brought it home, Firmin made it clear to me that the kitten would be *my* cat, and he would have nothing to do with it. Yeah, well... Within 30 minutes of the kitten’s arrival, he was in love. He was tender and playful with her and concerned for her well-being. I knew then, six years prior to the birth of our first child, that he was going to be a great dad.

Thirteen years and three children later, here's the latest evidence that I was right:

When I arrived home from running errands this afternoon, I found Firmin and the two older kids "tailgating" in our back yard. Alexander is on his lap; Brianna's reading a book by the fire. That's the college football game on the TV. How awesome is that?

Oh, and the half-circle fence around the fire pit area is one that he built this summer from discarded pallets.

While I'm bragging on him, did I mention that he also ran his first marathon a couple of weeks ago? Yup, he did.

*******
A bit of blog business: I want to say thank you to everyone for your comments. I love reading them, and I apologize for not responding to them directly very often lately. It's all Ethan's fault. ;o) Please know that I'm reading them and I hope to be able to be more responsive soon.

Meandering, part 2

2007-10-28T16:59:00.000-04:00

Inspired by my previous post and, in turn, Aliki's post, my youngest sister has a lovely blog entry about rediscovering the ability to meander as an adult. It's worth a look -- check it out here.

Meandering

2007-10-25T16:00:00.000-04:00

This recent post on Aliki's blog got me thinking. I'm going to quote her a bit for those who don't have time to check out the original post:

In a meeting this Monday morning at Liam's school... much off-the-topic concern was expressed over his inability to make a speedy trip from the resource room back to the classroom and vice versa. Apparently it has taken him as much as six minutes to walk the short route.

He stops to look in the recycling barrel! One teacher commented...

He reads the bulletin board!

I've caught him pulling papers out of the trash-can and reading them!

I am... perplexed... by all the clocking and accounting of movements that goes on. Liam has never been interested in the end result; it's the process that interests him--the journey, the diversions which tempt and might lead him to bigger, more interesting things.

And really, when you think about, who can blame him? The starting and ending points of a day (and of life) are far less interesting than what happens in-between. Between points A and B lie infinite possibilities--the unimagined, thousands and thousands of connecting and re-connecting lines between ideas and dreams and more ideas. The magic of it all is in what is spread out in-between, not so much in the predictability of what lies at either end.

So often, when I read accounts of the myriad ways that schools force children into molds or squash their natural curiosity, or make something potentially fun into something dreary or stressful, I respond with a mental, "Thank goodness for homeschooling". But this time I can't say that. I'm just like those teachers -- always goading the children to "Stop dawdling", "Hurry up", "Come ON!" Sometimes my behavior is justified, but honestly, often it's not.

Have I become unable to meander? Even when the kids and I take a walk at the nature center, after a certain amount of poking about, I'm encouraging them to move on, simply because *I* can't stand to stay in one spot any longer. I'm sure I used to be able to dawdle. I can remember doing it as a little girl. Actually, what I remember is daydreaming, but I must have been meandering at the same time.

Yet I haven't quite hit upon the real issue. I can still "wander". Housework is often interrupted by excursions into photo albums, books, papers, etc. (Of course, being the responsible grown up that I am, I chide myself for such lapses in efficiency.) Even on foot, I can meander -- enjoying the journey if I'm not in a hurry. So maybe my problem is with stopping while *someone else* smells the proverbial roses. Yeah, I think that's it. It's a kind of self- centeredness or control issue masquerading as normal parental behavior.

Bummer. This one's gonna take some work to overcome...

Thursday Thoughts

2007-10-18T12:10:00.000-04:00

A baby is a gift to more than just his family.

The other day I went to the annual apple give-away sponsored by our city’s Garden Project. Participants can fill 2 paper grocery bags with free apples – a total of 35 – 40 lbs of apples! Problem was, I forgot to bring my baby sling for Ethan and he was NOT going to be content in his car seat while I filled my bags. I handed him to Brianna, but her seven-year-old arms aren’t strong enough to carry him for longer than a few minutes. When she tired, I held him while she began to pack apples... slowly! I resigned myself to the fact that this was going to take much longer than I had planned on.

My rescuer was a woman in late middle age. She turned to me with a hopeful expression and said, “I could hold him.” Hold him she did, while Brianna and I packed our two bags and I carried them to the car. “You forget how tiny they are!” she cooed. He fussed only a tiny bit to the woman’s delight and my relief. Every time I looked over to check on them, the woman looked radiant. When she handed him back to me, we thanked each other. Somehow I think I did her a bigger favor than she did me.

Alexander is diligently saving polar bears. Whenever someone leaves a light on, he admonishes us to turn it off “to save polar bears.” Somewhere, he must have heard of the connection between energy use, global warming and the melting Artic ice. It’s not only cute, it’s effective! :o)

Alexander is also learning to read. He got a unused phonics workbook handed down to him by his cousin. I thought we probably wouldn’t use it either, since Xander has thus far eschewed formal study of reading. (While at the same time wishing desperately that he *could* read!) Nevertheless, I showed it to him and left it out for him to look at if he wished to. Later, he asked me to help him with it and that was it – he was off! He did about 100 pages over two days. I went to the library and got him some very easy readers, including the wonderful Otto books by David Milgrim. He is *so* proud of himself! It’s wonderful to see.

To help him along, we've borrowed the DVD box set of The Electric Company episodes from our library. The Electric Company has to be the best reading program ever aired on TV. It's entertaining for adults too -- with a cast that includes Bill Cosby, Rita Moreno, and Morgan Freeman, how can you go wrong?

Here are a couple of more recent shots of Ethan. He’s growing and changing before our eyes! He’s going bald right now. It’s not evident yet in these photos, which were taken a couple of weeks ago, but over the past week, he’s lost most of the hair on the top of his head in a male-pattern baldness progression. I wonder if it’s a precursor to later mid-life baldness? I don’t recall it happening to Alexander. There is some male-pattern baldness in my family, so it’s possible. Luckily, baldness in babies is both cute and temporary!

The Birth Story

2007-09-28T17:30:00.000-04:00

I woke in the early morning on Friday feeling kind of nauseous and not-so-good all the way around. Slept a little more, then once I was up for the day, felt O.K. I kept having contractions on and off throughout the day, and I definitely felt like something was going to happen soon -- either that night or the next day. I began to get excited! (Both Brianna and Alexander were induced, so it was fun experiencing the on-set of labor naturally.)

At about 3 pm I lost my mucus plug -- something I've never experienced so dramatically before! The contractions started to get more frequent and noticeable after that, so I started calling people -- Firmin, my mom, the midwife -- to let them know that things were moving along. By 7 PM, we were on our way to the birth center. Contractions slowed down on the way there, which is normal. I got settled in at the BC, listened to one of my hypnosis tapes, then walked around to get things moving again. That did the trick and my labor started picking up nicely.

Brianna and Alexander and my parents came to the birth center with us and stayed the entire time. They watched movies and camped out in sleeping bags in the community room.

I was able to handle the intensifying contractions pretty well with my hypnosis until what was likely the "transition" phase. In contrast to Alexander's birth, where I had my water broken at 5 cm, then dilated to 10 in about 20 minutes, these contractions were spaced a little farther apart. I had a bit of a break between each one in which I was able to relax, but I was starting to have a hard time with the contractions themselves. I was in the birthing tub at this point which felt good, but I think it might have made it harder for me to get comfortable. I remember saying at one point, "This is where I ask for the epidural!" ;o) I was still hours away from giving birth as it turned out. I don't think I would have accomplished a natural childbirth in the hospital this time around with the promise of pain relief just a request away since it took so long. Although it's possible that they would have made me wait since I don't think I said that until I was almost fully dilated. I felt like pushing soon after. (They don't do internal checks for dilation at the birth center unless the mom requests it or there's a medical reason, so I don't know what my dilation was at any given point.)

Apparently, pushing out babies is something I *can* do, but not well. I ultimately needed much more coaching in that phase than they generally give. Turns out I was pushing rather "ineffectually" for quite a while before midwife S. and I decided that she'd better take a stronger hand. I remember that the same thing happened with Alexander, though I got more immediate coaching and the contractions were much closer together, so I only had to push for about a half-hour. Ethan took his sweet time. My contractions were not so closely spaced. I had time to rest between pushes, but it wasn't much relief. I found it SO hard to relax between them.

Once she took more charge, S. had me get out of the water and onto the bed on my side. Relaxing was easier there and she was able to see that I was pulling back in after each push, which was hampering my progress. She was also able to coach me more on each push to make it more effective. More time passed, and more position changes dictated by S. Finally, after nearly 2 1/2 hours of pushing, I ended up on the birthing stool and finally (finally!) felt that ring of fire about 15 minutes later. I hated the crowning with Alexander, but this time it was *so* welcome because it meant it really was OVER! At 3:12 AM, I had my baby and all was well.
I really wish it had been easier and/or shorter, but I can't say I'm disappointed. I'm pretty proud of myself actually. I never would have thought I could endure so much pain for so long and still keep working. I admit to getting pretty discouraged during the long final phase, but I did what I had to do. The fact that billions of women have done it for millenia before me (and often in worse and more dangerous circumstances) diminishes my feelings not one bit. On the contrary, it makes me part of the tribe.

Each child's birth now takes it's place in my story:

Brianna's over-medicated, interventionist birth was nevertheless my unique first -- my induction into motherhood and all it's wonders. Although I grieved the negative aspects of that birth process, the experience changed some of my assumptions about modern "progress" and set me on a journey that has led in surprising and satisfying directions.

Alexander's birth retains it's place as my "best" birth. Although I would rather have not been in the hospital, it was quick, intense, and drug-free (beyond the cervical gel to get labor going.) After Alexander's birth, I felt euphoric -- a high like I've never felt before or since. I also felt physically great. I remember getting up from the bed I delivered in and going to the bathroom almost right away with no trouble.

Ethan's birth was a test of my strength. I was too worn out to feel the same level of euphoria as I did after Alexander's birth, and my physical recovery hasn't been as quick. (Though it's been quicker and easier than after Brianna's birth.) Nevertheless, taken as a whole, I've really enjoyed the experience of carrying and birthing him in the context of our larger family. It was great to have the other kids nearby. I'm grateful they were sleeping through my loudest cries of agony, but it was nice to be able to wake Brianna and have her come in right after he was born. (We let Alexander sleep until morning for fear he wouldn't go *back* to sleep.) Ethan's birth has given me a greater appreciation for what women have accomplished and endured and even suffered in childbirth throughout history. It's a perspective I will cherish. He's also given me new appreciation for my own powers of endurance.

Welcome to the world, little boy. Thanks for completing my birth education; I can't wait to see what else you have to teach me and all of us.

Here are a few more pictures from his first day:

He's Here!

2007-09-15T16:48:00.000-04:00

Ethan Michael was born at 3:12 this morning (September 15) , weighed 8 lbs. 8 oz., and is 20 1/2 inches long, including his cone head! ;o)

Pictures soon to come, but I wanted to get the news out!

Tuesday Takes

2007-09-11T19:00:00.000-04:00

It has come to my attention that some readers are checking this blog regularly for baby news. No news to share yet! I'll try to get news up about the baby as soon as it happens. (Could be any day now, or could be a couple weeks from now. Patience is a virtue, right? Ha!)

I've been feeling "dry" in the blog-post ideas department lately. I'm getting pretty baby-focused now -- nesting and all that, which is pretty boring to blog about. I do have a few random thoughts, none of which rise to the level of a complete post, so I'll share some of those:

Senator John McCain was the guest in the first hour of The Diane Rhem Show today. I wouldn't vote for him because we differ too greatly on the issues, but boy is he an easy man to respect and even admire. I really enjoyed listening to him. Would that more political figures were as concerned with integrity and honesty as he seems to be. He unabashedly defends positions that he believes in -- even unpopular ones -- with rationality and civility. He also candidly admits to times when he was guilty of doing wrong, not just having "poor judgment" or some other vague phrase intended to downplay his culpability. (I thought for a moment he was actually going to use the word "sin".)

The big question is, would the American people actually elect someone with these qualities (not necessarily McCain himself), or do we insist on something more deliberately constructed for the national political scene? Is the *appearance* of folksy integrity easier to accept than the sometimes uncomfortable real thing? Real integrity generally involves humility and even changing one's position from time to time based on new information or insight. Qualities that one's opponents are quick to spin into "softness" and "flip-flopping". Can a "good man" or a "good woman" win these days? I hope so, but I wonder...

___________________

Also heard on Diane Rhem today was Ira Flatow, science reporter. The tidbit that caught my ear was about Bernoulli's Principle. Bernoullis' Principle describes the pressure of flowing liquids, and is very commonly cited to explain how air-flow and pressure around an airplane's wings allows the plane to stay aloft. I've read about this several times from different sources. Well -- turns out that Bernoulli's Principle has very little to do with planes staying aloft! Good thing for a homeschooling mom to know, since that myth is *everywhere* in science materials for kids! Here's a better explanation of the physics of flight. Watch out for the Bernoulli flight myth -- your kids may very well still encounter it at school, and certainly in library books and on the internet.

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Brianna has begun a geometry segment in math. She's getting to use a drawing board with a T-square and triangles. She asked to do math today at 9 am -- before breakfast! Guess she likes geometry! :o)

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The new First Day School (Sunday School) year has begun at our Quaker Meeting. We are trying some different formats this year in preparation for being in a new building without defined classrooms some time next year. We kicked off with a whole-group session we called "The God panel", in which 3 adults were invited to share their experiences and beliefs about God with the children (who ranged in age from 3 to 12). I was a little nervous about how it would go, but it turned out to be a beautiful experience. The kids remained engaged for the whole hour, even when the adults were trying to convey pretty complex ideas. I was struck by how much we grown-ups underestimate the spiritual depth of our youngest Friends.

Glimpses of Our Life

2007-08-21T16:48:00.001-04:00

My darling hubby's not-so-subtle hint that it's time to get packed for a trip to the birth center.

I'm trying to think what I could put in here that I won't need in the next few weeks. Clothes for the baby, I suppose. I have no idea what might fit me when the time comes. My hips have, um, spread. Perhaps a wrap skirt is in order...

I love this doodle Brianna did on our chalk board. It so illustrates the bond she has with Alexander. (It says "Alexander the crasey bananna") She loves his craziness even though it exasperates her at times. The rest of us feel the same way.

Thanks to Aliki for passing on this blog award. It's nice to know that others enjoy my random thoughts, lol!

I'll pass it forward to Ma, Jenny, and Jennifer -- for her most recent post about her darling youngest son, which I didn't comment on, but thoroughly enjoyed. (Follow the link.)

My How I've Grown!

2007-08-11T07:48:00.000-04:00

Third babies are not shy about taking whatever room they need! Here are some 8 month belly pics.

The baby and I are not the only ones who have grown. Alexander grew enough over the past year to be able to climb the maple tree in our yard this summer. He wanted to do it last summer, but was just too short. You can see how delighted his is.

Robert Putnam and Others Speak About Diversity

2007-08-09T16:20:00.000-04:00

I blogged about Robert Putnam's research on the challenges of diversity on July 3. This morning I caught the end of On Point, an NPR call-in show on the topic with Putnam, Lani Guinier, and Pat Buchanan. I have yet to go back and listen to the whole thing, but the last 20 minutes or so that I heard were really interesting. Granted, I started listening just as they were saying good-bye to Pat Buchanan. I should probably be prepared for raised blood pressure when I listen to the portion he was on! You can listen on Real Player or Windows Media Player by clicking here.

Here's the teaser for the program:
Harvard political scientist Robert Putnam is a self-described full-on liberal who worries a lot about community in America.

He made his name in the 1990s with his finding that hordes of Americans were, in his famous phrase, "bowling alone" -- living without the traditional community ties of bowling leagues and Moose clubs that bound people together.

Then he set out on a huge project to find out why. The answer looks like a liberal's nightmare: diversity. Diverse communities, Putnam found, show dysfunction. At least for a while.

This hour On Point: Robert Putnam, Pat Buchanan and Lani Guinier on diversity and community in America.

Camping with Friends

2007-08-05T22:07:00.000-04:00

It began as a brainstorm earlier this summer.

In conversation after Friends’ Meeting one Sunday, we discovered that a number of us enjoy camping. We thought it might be fun to do it as a group some weekend, so this weekend we did. The group consisted of 3 families who camped for 2 nights, one family who camped for 1 night, and one family that came out for the afternoon and evening on Saturday, but did not camp. Decent turn-out for a summer weekend!

We stayed at a lesser known, but beautiful rustic campground less than an hour from our city, which was not at all crowded. Good thing, since every family who participated had kids, most ages 8 and under! It felt good to let them roam and run and be as loud as they wanted to be. The kids had a blast – getting dirty and tired and eating too many marshmallows. They enjoy one another’s company so much every Sunday, and it was nice to give them a longer time to be together. Frankly, the same was true for us adults who also got dirty, tired and ate too many marshmallows. :o) We got quite a bit of time to visit, since the kids were occupied with playing together much of the time.

Camping always rejuvenates my spirits, but camping while 8 months pregnant takes it’s toll! Sleeping comfortably wasn’t a problem, thank goodness, but I’m tiring easily these days, and many tasks that usually take little effort (like stooping down to unzip the tent flap) are now awkward and difficult. The bathroom -- which I visited, um, frequently -- was a bit of a hike. It wasn't so far distance-wise, but down a rather long, steep hill that was a bear to climb back up sometimes. (I actually drove the van to the bathroom two or three times when I just couldn’t face the climb!) When I got home today, I treated myself to a nice bath, but my feet still ache.

I’m sorry to say that I didn’t bring a camera, but here are some highlights:

*Finding a cicada that had just emerged from it’s exoskeleton one morning. The still wet wings and body were beautiful shades of blue-green, pearl and silver. As the day wore on, the cicada’s colors darkened until the wings were mostly brown and only a hint of green was visible on the body. By mid-afternoon, it had moved on, leaving the discarded exoskeleton behind.

*Pot luck dinner on Saturday. Good food, good company, good fun, no cooking! (Except for the meat, but I wasn’t in charge of that!)

*My parents popping in at the campground to help celebrate my birthday. My dad brought his remote control airplane – a good size one – and thrilled the kids with a demo.

*Seeing Alexander get SO tired that he thought the trip to the beach – which happened at the peak of his fatigue – had been a dream. (He told me about his “dream” later that day. He still remembers little of the excursion, even though he now knows it really happened.)

*Enjoying the peaceful quiet of the campground with Firmin while everyone else was at the beach. (I didn’t feel up to sitting in the sun for several hours.) We talked for a while, then dozed in our chairs. Ahhh!

*Watching the kids – all the kids, not just mine – be great kids. Yes, they ran too far ahead of the grown ups on walks, and they didn’t always respond to adult instruction the first time, but I never saw them ostracize or tease one another. (Even between siblings there was a high level of civility and tolerance.) When they gleefully chased the remote control plane as it landed, my father yelled after them not to touch it, and they responded with restraint and respect. It was almost comical to watch them crowd around as close as humanly possible without touching it! Only the youngest – a 3 year old – ventured a finger to gingerly touch the edge of the wing once the plane had stopped. We may not be raising the most compliant and obedient children around, but I feel fairly confident in speaking for all the parents when I say that’s not really our goal. The children are clearly learning to navigate the world and their relationships with moral values and good judgment. *That* is the goal, and they are well on their way.

I love being a part of this family of Friends.

Hardship

2007-07-20T22:17:00.000-04:00

The mayor of Warren, Michigan recently complained about the possible influx of Iraqi refugees into his city. He said it would be "a hardship".

In an effort to calm public fears, Michigan Senator Carl Levin said the numbers of refugees sited by the mayor (15,000) were “misleading”. This year, the U.S. can expect to settle only about 2,000 Iraqi refugees, and in total, the State Department has agreed to absorb only 25,000 of the (so far) 2.2 million Iraqi refugees, to be spread around the country.

In case you don't have a calculator handy, 25,000 out of 2.2 million comes to 1%. Is it just me, or does that seem like a shamefully small percentage? After all, this was *our* war. Our president and his pals came up with the idea. Our congress persons voted to authorize it. Indeed most Americans were gung-ho about it in the beginning. Those who urged caution were disparaged as unpatriotic terrorist sympathizers. Five years on, it doesn’t look like we can fix what we broke in Iraq. Most Americans have come to the conclusion that we should cut our losses and hope for the least worst of all the terrible possibilities. That’s a rational decision, but it doesn’t follow that we can then wash our hands of the whole thing and go on with our lives as if nothing happened. We certainly can't wash our hands of the financial cost: we and our children will be paying the $444, 937,600,000 and counting for this war. And we should not wash our hands of the moral costs either.

Actions have consequences. Accepting refugees from the horror that we largely created may be more or less avoidable, but what our moral responsibility? Those of us not in the military have sacrificed next to nothing. We’ve only been asked to be patient and keep shopping! I don’t care to suffer hardship any more than Mr. Mayor and the good folks of Warren, but I’m seriously questioning what right I, or any American, has to be exempt from it in this case. If I really knew what it was like to suffer even a fraction of the hardship that a woman my age in Baghdad is suffering, I’d probably be offering to put her and her family up in my own house! Maybe some hardship for Americans is exactly what justice demands. It’s a bitter thought, but passing off the burden of refugees almost solely onto Iraq’s neighbors while we agree to accept only 1% seems shameful and cowardly.

Diversity, Trust, and Religion

2007-07-03T20:10:00.000-04:00

I recently became aware of research by Robert Putnam that paints a mixed view of ethnic diversity. Here is an excerpt from the abstract of the study:

In the long run immigration and diversity are likely to have important cultural, economic, fiscal, and developmental benefits. In the short run, however, immigration and ethnic diversity tend to reduce social solidarity and social capital. New evidence from the US suggests that in ethnically diverse neighborhoods residents of all races tend to ‘hunker down’. Trust (even of one's own race) is lower, altruism and community cooperation rarer, friends fewer. In the long run, however, successful immigrant societies have overcome such fragmentation by creating new, cross-cutting forms of social solidarity and more encompassing identities.

Unsurprisingly, this study has been cited by numerous anti-immigration and anti-multiculturalism folks -- usually minus the reference to the possible long term benefits. The come-back from progressives is usually to focus nearly entirely on the long term findings. I think this is equally problematic. Both the short and long term effects must be taken seriously if we care about the quality of our own lives and the lives of our neighbors – wherever they come from.

People who work with diverse populations at schools or in community settings will tend to file this study under the heading “not news”. The darker side of human nature makes diversity difficult. But diversity (and, I dare say, immigration) is here to stay, so what do we do? How do we make the short term problems as “short term” as possible? How do we get over the mistrust and “hunkering down” tendency?

I’m especially interested in thinking about what role religion (or spirituality, if you prefer) can play in the drama. It strikes me that when religion is at it’s worst, it exacerbates the problem – creating enclaves of suspicion and encouraging us to pass judgment on our neighbors. I’m sorry to say that I think this happens more often than not, but that doesn’t mean that secularism is necessarily the better answer. Secularism can just as easily lead to “me first” thinking, and suspicion of differences in manner or culture. No-holds-barred capitalism is thoroughly secular (in spite of the many Religious Right types who embrace it, seemingly contrary to biblical principles), yet it is the major cause of migration between countries, both legally and illegally. Not only are people drawn to western countries to seek opportunity, they are also “pushed” from the other direction by impossible economic situations brought on by a secular “theology” of globalism that elevates profit above any other social, political, or human good.

But what about religion as 17^th century Quaker Robert Barclay experienced it?

“For when I came into the silent assemblies of God's people, I felt a secret power among them which touched my heart; and as I gave way unto it, I found the evil weakening in me and the good raised up.”

Religion at it’s best raises up the good in us and weakens the evil. It reminds us that we are all loved by God, all part of the same sacred creation. Even when we can’t manage to feel that way about our fellow human beings, good religion disciplines us to behave as if it were true anyway. (“Love thy enemy” and all that...)

I’m interested in what others think about these topics. Please share!

Finished product

2007-06-13T21:20:00.000-04:00

Since the jam post was so popular, I thought I'd share some pics of the results!

It took me almost exactly 3 hours to do 4 batches -- less time than I anticipated. I guess after doing this a few times, I'm getting more efficient! I got the kitchen totally prepped before going to get the berries: canner out and filled, counters clear, jars washed, etc. So if you count that part, maybe it would be closer to 4 hours. Still not bad. You'll notice that the fruit floats to the top of the syrup. No biggie -- we just stir it when we open it, but if anyone knows how to avoid this, I'd be interested. Even my grandma didn't know, and she's done her share of jam-making.

A couple of readers asked about cost. I purchased 8 quarts of strawberries (one flat, or about 16 lbs.) for $20. Buying direct from the grower at the farmers' market is definitely the way to go! I already owned the jars and ring parts of the lids, so no additional cost there. The flat part of the lid is not re-usable, so I had to buy those: $1.50. Pectin came to $6.00, and I estimated the cost of the sugar used to be about $0.50. (I used store brand sugar, and only about 3 1/2 cups total.) Grand total cost = $28.00

I processed the equivalent of 26 eight ounce jars. (6 twelve oz. jars and 17 eight oz. jars) That comes out to $1.07 per 8 oz. jar. I *might* be able to buy the very cheapest store brand for less -- I don't know, as I haven't priced them out. But since I would normally be buying brands with low sugar and no artificial colors, it's a decent savings. (That's not even considering the taste factor, which is a biggie.) I save even more when I use them as gifts. A jar of homemade jam and a homemade loaf of bread make a wonderful (and usually highly appreciated) gift for a neighbor or casual friend, even though the total "value" might only be about $2. Saving money isn't the point in that case; what you are really giving is time and care. Nevertheless, it's a welcome by-product when you're on a tight holiday budget.

Can't wait to break one open tomorrow!

Oh, and here's a tip for anyone who decides to try this: consider keeping your jars warm in the oven (set at about 200 degrees) rather than in simmering water on the stove as most recipes instruct you to do. Your stove already has the huge canner going, plus the 6 - 8 quart pot for cooking the jam, plus maybe a tea kettle of hot water to add to the canner as needed. I don't know about your stove, but mine has no room for an additional huge stockpot filled with jars! Putting them in the oven saved hassle and space -- I just took the hot jars out of the oven as I needed them. I kept the lids in a pot of hot water in the oven as well.

Strawberry Jam

2007-06-10T22:29:00.000-04:00

This Wednesday is strawberry jam day at our house. I was informed by one of the farmers at our local farmer's market that he would have strawberries "by the truck load" this week. The kids will be going to a friend's house on Wednesday so that I can get the strawberries and make jam from them on the same day.

You're probably thinking, "Nice, but so what? Lots of people make jam."

The thing is, we haven't had any jam at all for about 2 1/2 months now, so it feels like a treat to us. We are not full-fledged localvores -- I'm not ready to give up bananas, for one thing -- but we're trying to eat that way more frequently, especially with foods that are grown in our area. So in March, when we ran out of the jam I made last summer, Firmin and I agreed that we would simply wait until jam-making fruit was in season again instead of buying jam at the store. We had a plentiful supply of local raw honey to eat on our toast and to be a sweetening addition to a peanut butter sandwich. (No, peanuts are not grown in Michigan, but this isn't really about pure-ism. Read on.) The final deciding factor was the relatively high cost of jams which contain neither high fructose corn syrup nor artificial food coloring. We would wait.

What I've discovered to my own surprise and delight, is that rather than missing the jam (though we have at times), the primary experience has been one of joyful anticipation and gratitude. I'm thankful for these strawberries in a way I never have been before. I'm actually looking forward to the long afternoon of processing and canning the jam. The kids are thrilled at the prospect of an honest to goodness PB & J sandwich! We have stopped taking jam for granted. It's a very small thing really, but small things can teach big lessons.

Next, I'm thinking about apples. Michigan is second only to Washington state in apple production, and Michigan apples are available year-round. For organic apples, however, the Michigan supply is about dried up. My choice now is pretty much Chilean organic apples or Michigan conventionally grown apples. Hmmm... It won't be long before the early varieties are ready -- mid-August I think. Can we wait? If we do, how good will that first bite of a crisp fresh-from-the-tree apple taste?

This waiting for the season is quickly becoming a lost experience. Previous generations were forced to wait. Waiting today requires discipline, which is much tougher and sometimes hard to justify. I can testify from personal experience that it can feel downright silly to walk by food that you want when it's right there in front of you, especially if your cart already contains other items that are not local or in season. (I buy broccoli year-round, for instance, and plan continue to do so -- it's one of the few green veggies the whole family likes!) Yet walk right by I do, and with increasing frequency. There are plenty of good reasons to eat locally and in season whenever possible, but one that's often overlooked is the pure pleasure of delayed gratification. Still skeptical? Just ask your grandma how good blueberries used to taste in July when she was a girl. Note her big smile...

The Conservative in Me

2007-06-06T21:43:00.000-04:00

Every once in a while I pick up a book that resonates so strongly that it makes me comment out loud -- "Yes!" "That's exactly right" "Absolutely!" -- while I am reading it. (I can only hope to be either alone or amongst understanding family members when it happens.) I just finished such a book. Given that it's written by a conservative journalist who has worked for the National Review, the book has had a particularly profound effect on me. It challenged some of my assumptions about conservatives, caused me to reconsider how best to describe myself politically, and gave me hope for some common ground between at least some liberals and conservatives in this grossly polarized era. It also spawned about 20 blog post ideas, lol! I'll dole out a few of them here and there over the next couple of months.

I must give the full title, long as it is, so that you can understand why I picked it up in the first place. It is Crunchy Cons: How Birkenstocked Burkeans, gun loving organic gardeners, evangelical free-range farmers, hip homeschooling mamas, right-wing nature lovers, and their diverse tribe of countercultural conservatives plan to save America (or at least the Republican Party) by Rod Dreher. Those of you who know me know that I wear Birkenstocks, garden organically, eat locally-raised, free-range meat, homeschool my kids, and love nature. However, I have not read Burke, do not love guns, am religious but not evangelical, am sadly lacking much "hip" other than the ones above my thighs, am decidedly NOT right-wing, and can count on one hand the number of Republicans I've voted for. I just *had* to read this book!

The most important thing Crunchy Cons did for me was to smash some preconceptions I had about conservatives, and make me re-consider my own self-identification as a liberal. Dreher is the kind of Republican that I didn't know existed: one who would willingly restrain the excesses of free-market capitalism in the name of preserving authentic communities, strengthening families, and protecting the environment. (That I didn't know of the existence of folks like him is in itself is an indictment of our over-polarized political environment. Where are their voices in the mainstream media and the Republican party?) He believes passionately that our current state of affairs -- with ever-increasing consumption of material goods and unfettered pursuit of personal pleasure and gain -- is not only spiritually culturally impoverishing, but also economically unsustainable. I have felt this for a long time now, and Dreher captures how discouraging and lonely such a counter-cultural stance can be at times. Yet he also captures the joy and fulfillment that come from living according to one's deepest held beliefs.

I came to see that my core values -- which mesh pretty well with Dreher's -- really *are* best described as "conservative". I want to conserve values and ways of life that are rapidly disappearing: interdependent communities, strong family bonds, unstructured leisure time (and innocence) for kids, "real" food grown or raised the way nature/God intended, local economies, human scale development, the wise use and preservation of natural spaces, and more. Dreher is perplexed that some of the political policies intended to further these kinds of goals have become nearly the sole province of Democrats and are thus now considered "liberal" issues. Because of that, I think Dreher's sense of alienation from the Right is stronger than my sense of standing on the outskirts of the Left. (Check out the Crunchy Con manifesto. I count 7 out of 10 points that I definitely agree with and at least 2 that I mostly agree with. I know quite a few of my crunchy liberal friends that would agree with many of the points as well. It's easy to see why poor Rod gets blasted by many of his fellow Republicans. Kudos to him for having the courage to keep speaking out!) Finding so much in common with a self-described conservative made me more keenly aware of the ways in which I am different from many mainstream liberals, particularly in the areas of education, media consumption, and consumerism. (There being really no difference in consumerism between mainstream liberals and conservatives. Shopping is fast becoming the national pastime.)

Before reading this book, if the only thing I knew about Rod Dreher was that he voted Republican and wrote for the National Review, my initial impression would have been of a no-holds-barred capitalist who wanted to return to the oppressive-to-women-and-minorities 1950's. I know that's a stereotype, but I must admit that it's exactly what springs to mind when I don't know anything else about a person besides their conservatism. So what do conservatives think when I describe myself as a liberal? Someone who would happily regulate every aspect of life except sex and the media? Perhaps! Maybe nuance, though awkward and time-consuming, is called for if there is to be a meaningful movement of all of us crunchies (Left and Right) to "save America". I don't care as much about the Republican party. ;o)

Fast Math

2007-05-17T08:02:00.000-04:00

My friend and fellow blogger Alissa has a son Brianna's age who is going through "quarterly assessment" testing at his school. One of the areas of assessment is math. Her brief comments about this got me thinking back to math tests of my own childhood, how I'm approaching math with Brianna, and how I might approach it with Alexander. I don't blog much about our homeschooling specifics, but I find this topic worth exploring a little bit.

Thankfully, I attended school before the current obsession with standardized testing and constant assessment. I took state standardized tests in 4th, 7th, and 10th grades, but the teachers didn't make a big deal out of them beyond making sure we knew how to properly fill in the bubbles. (Bubble tests were rare indeed!) The first tests that really felt "high stakes" to me were the tests I took for college entrance -- the ACT, SAT, and AP exams. By then I was an older teen and able to handle the pressure.

Nevertheless, my 2nd grade teacher, Mrs. Frank, decided to introduce some "high stakes" testing of her own. Every week we had "time tests" in math. These consisted of a strip of about 25 math problems that we were to complete as fast as possible. The times of each student -- adjusted somehow for accuracy -- were posted for all to see. I believe they were even charted on a graph. I was one of those kids who was very accurate if given adequate time, but I could be slow to come to an answer. Time pressure only befuddled my brain, so my times were always near the bottom of the class even though I was capable of doing the problems presented. Needless to say, I exited 2nd grade with the (false) impression that I was bad at math. This incorrect belief lasted for years and negatively affected my math education.

So you can imagine my conflicted feelings when Brianna's math curriculum suggested "practice sheets" -- strips of about 25 math problems that the child should do repeatedly with a goal of finishing accurately in about 1 minute. Ack - Time Tests! Understand, they only suggest this *well* after the child has become proficient at solving addition problems mentally using a number of strategies not to include counting. The sole purpose of the practice sheets are to increase speed. I can't argue with the practicality of this. Brianna is highly proficient at maniuplating numbers mentally to solve problems, but when adding 3 digit numbers, all that manipulation takes time. Once you know what you're doing, it's much more convenient to have the basic facts committed to memory.

Uncomfortable with the timing aspect but understanding the rational, I decided to give Brianna the choice. She chose to time herself, and with her father's stopwatch, no less! The timing does not seem to add to her anxiety or make solving the problems more difficult, as it did for me. I suspect it's because she's only competing with herself. She has no idea how she would measure up against other 1st graders, nor does it occur to her to wonder about that. She's well above the 1 minute goal time -- more like 2:40, but I think that's due more to her slowness in writing than to not knowing the answers. When she dictates the answers to me, she's around 1 1/2 minutes, depending on the difficulty of the problems. In any case, it doesn't seem to phase her. I make sure to note her 100% accuracy, and assure her that accuracy is more important than speed. I don't recall Mrs. Frank every praising my accuracy. (She may have done, but so much emphasis was on speed that if she did, it didn't make an impression.)

Alexander's preschool teacher commented during our conference today about how good he was at math. I was a bit surprised to hear this -- not because I think he's slow, but because at home he does very little math talk or play that I see. (Unless I count being able to look at a Lego diagram and copy it fairly well, which I *should*!) Brianna did much more conventional math play at his age, and would ask to do math lessons for fun. Alexander asked for lessons a couple of times, then stopped. I think the difference isn't in math ability, but in how the children approach learning. Brianna's learning is so easy for me to see. She goes about it quite conventionally, as I did, so I recognize it. When we do math lessons together 3 or 4 times a week, I see the progress and know exactly what she can and cannot do. Alexander seems to draw from more diverse sources and then manifest his knowledge in ways that I don't always recognize immediately. (Like the Legos.) Homeschooling is going to be more challenging with him simply because he and I do not share a common learning style. Nevertheless, I think it will be fun and nearly as educational for me as it will be for him!

Real Moms Get Used to Gross

2007-05-05T22:08:00.000-04:00

It starts with that first meconium-filled diaper. Maybe it's the first "poo" diaper you've ever changed, or perhaps you've confronted the messy diapers of a niece or nephew, or a baby sitting charge. In any case, you may notice -- or you may not, in your post-birth fugue -- that it's not as distasteful to deal with as you would have thought; not quite as nose-wrinkling as the messes of those other babies that were not yours. Good thing, because that little bit of mucky stuff is nothing compared to what awaits you: diaper blowouts that reach from your baby's hair to her socks, smelly "big kid" poos smashed into your toddler's training pants, preschooler vomit all over your preschooler, his bed, you, and your bed at 3 AM, and cold after cold bringing snot, snot, and more snot for you to wipe from nose, face, hands, shirt, nearby surfaces, and yourself.

Amazingly, moms are universally able to cope with all this and more (bloody gashes requiring stitches, anyone?) without tossing their cookies or even feeling queasy most of the time. (Unless they are in their first trimester of a pregnancy, than all bets are off!) Sure, we may wrinkle our noses, or let slip and "Oh yuck!" now and then, but we quickly do what needs to be done, wash our hands with plenty of soap, then get back to making dinner.

I thought about this the other night after I dug a large booger from Alexander's nose with a Q-Tip. It was bothering him to the point of not being able to sleep, and no amount of nose-blowing would dislodge it. It was indeed a pretty gross procedure, though not the grossest thing I've done for my kids by a long shot. Nevertheless, for just a moment, I lost my "mom" perspective and allowed myself to dwell on the "ick" factor of what I had just done. I let out a cough which ended in a bit of a gag. Then I got hold of myself and went on with life like the real mom that I am.

Note: This post is in response to a Real Moms tag from my friend Jennifer. It looks like it started as a contest, which anyone can still enter up until May 11 if they follow all the rules in the link above. However, several bloggers before me have deviated from the rules, and I'm not jumping through every hoop either. I love it as simply a tag theme that threads together many mom bloggers who may not even know one another. I'm tagging Ma and Jenny!

The original rules of the Real Mom challenge say to include a picture. (See note and link above.) I debated taking a photo of Alexander's mostly-clean nostrils, but he's asleep right now. Real moms do NOT risk waking a preschooler at 11 pm with a camera flash. So just for fun, I looked through my digital photo files and found a picture of a not-so-gross mess that I once had to clean up. :o)

"Sunflowers"

2007-04-29T11:46:00.000-04:00

Alexander has been calling dandelions "sunflowers" this spring. I've corrected him a couple of times, but I'm going to stop. After the spring we've had, I think he's more right than wrong. What better sign of the return of the summer sun than the dandelion? This afternoon, Firmin will mow the yard for the first time this year. Xander was distraught about it until Firmin promised to leave a little patch of "sunflowers" unmowed.

Update on the seedlings

2007-04-29T11:25:00.000-04:00

Six days after replanting, every single seedling looks healthy and strong! What a great kid I've got!

Brianna Saves the Seedlings

2007-04-24T21:33:00.000-04:00

Yesterday at about noon, a small disaster struck. The wind was beginning to gust quite strongly, as a spring storm seemed to be blowing in. My mini-greenhouse on the porch had been weighted down on the bottom, but apparently not enough. It blew over with a crash, sending my heart crashing with it. Buried in piles of dirt and overturned flats were 2 - 3 week old tomato, broccoli and parsley seedlings -- all of the plants of those varieties that I had hoped to cultivate this summer. To complicate matters, I had not used flats with individual growing cells. All of the seedlings were growing side by side in one non-divided tray of soil.

I surveyed the mess with dismay. The greenhouse had fallen onto it's front, with the zip-up opening against the floor. Potting soil was everywhere and there was no way to limit the further damage that would be done when the greenhouse was righted again. My husband tried to be optimistic. "They can be replanted. They're all there." I was not so easily comforted. I could only see the trauma of my poor little baby plants, and think about the wasted weeks of germination and growth that must now begin again, delaying the harvest beyond what I had hoped. I mentally checked my seed stock and wondered if I had enough left over. I thought with a hint of bitterness of how much money would be wasted if I needed to buy all my seedlings from someone else rather than using my own (already paid for) seed. "They *can't* be replanted!" I snapped. "This is too much trauma for them -- they won't recover!" The thought of even trying seemed too much. My day was already overloaded with tasks that couldn't wait.

Brianna came out to see what had happened. She had helped plant and care for the seedlings. She was concerned, but calm. She stepped in close to survey the damage. "Mommy, I think we could save most of them. Their roots are still mostly in the soil, so we could put them in those paper pots we made. If we do it right now, they might live!" A few weeks earlier, Brianna and a friend had made seedling pots out of newspaper. I later decided to use the undivided flats instead, but I had not yet disposed of the pots, thinking I might yet find a use for them. Shooting down my husband's optimism had been easy (sorry Sweetie!) but with my child, it was different. She was already taking charge of the situation -- running to get the pots, triaging the seedlings. How could I discourage such initiative? And why should I? Her confidence made me take another, more objective look at the situation. I saw that she might be right.

My husband and Alexander left for preschool, but Brianna and I threw ourselves into the rescue mission. In the end, we re-potted 27 seedlings. We saved many of the tomatoes, a decent fraction of the broccoli, and none of the parsley, which had only *just* germinated and were too tiny to be saved. Time will tell how many of the 27 survive, but as of last night, they were looking quite well. It was a highly satisfying endeavor for us, and a bonding experience as well. I owe Brianna a debt of gratitude for reminding me that things are seldom as bad as they seem in the moments immediately following a mishap. Her sense of optimism about saving the seedlings may have been child-like, but it was not" childish". When it was all over and we were cleaning the dirt from our fingernails, I thanked her. She just gave a small smile, but I could tell she was pleased and proud of herself. I hope she remembers that feeling for a long time. I hope it helps her persevere in future situations. And when she forgets, I hope she has a child in her life who can help her remember.

Two Posts: A Problem and Safety for Homeschoolers

2007-04-19T23:14:00.000-04:00

Today, here and there across the country, high schools and colleges were closed or on lockdown due to threats of Virgina Tech-style massacres. I don't know how many, but I heard about four on the news today, and a very quick Google search turned up six more. I'm willing to bet there were quite a few that I didn't find or hear of. How credible those threats are is almost beside the point. The fact remains that a disturbing number of people in our society are ill and/or angry enough to entertain the idea of mass murder. I think we need to focus less on what is wrong with the individuals who commit such acts and focus more on what is going on in our culture. We clearly have a problem.

Possible areas of investigation:
*Mental health treatment and lack thereof
*Bullying, and I don't mean just among school children
*Our consistent appetite for entertainment that appeals to our basest instincts, including graphic and incessant "news" coverage that claims to go "inside the mind of a killer".
*The availability of guns and ammunition at family retail stores with minimal (and apparently faulty) background checks. (The same stores where we can also buy toys and clothes for our children made by other children in sweatshops. Another blog entry, but perhaps not so unrelated.)

I'm sure there are more, but that should be enough to get us started.

******

Whenever school shootings hit the news, homeschoolers are abuzz with relief their kids are safe at home. (I even heard some in this most recent case, which is odd since it happened at a college, and most homeschoolers do aspire to attend college. But I digress...) I have some thoughts about this:

1) It's nice to feel that one's children are safe. I must admit that hearing of all the lockdowns today made me thankful that my kids and I don't have to go through that stress. My children are less likely than most to be murdered in a school shooting, and I'm glad.

2) The idea that homeschooled kids are safer from death is an illusion. (Though a nice one to entertain, as outlined above.) I don't think anyone has gathered the macabre statistics, but I would venture to guess that homeschooling actually puts kids at a greater overall risk for death. Think about it: accidents are the leading cause of death among children in the U.S. -- car accidents and accidents in the home. Where do my children spend 90% of their waking hours? At home or in the car! Statistically, children are relatively safe from death while at school and even when on a schoolbus, so the numbers would seem to favor children who spend 30 - 35 hours a week in school.

3) I don't care. Whether in school or at home, my children are much more likely than not to live to adulthood. Taking that as a given, I believe homeschooling provides them with the best environment in which to learn joyfully and freely. I also believe that homeschooling provides my kids the emotional safety they need to develop a strong sense of self to carry with them into the world. With a healthy self-image and sense of identity, they can interact with diverse people (even bullies if need be), face tough challenges, and make good decisions. Will they do these things perfectly and be 100% happy and successful? If only! But I believe they will be as well equipped as they can be.

So for me, the question of safety involves safeguarding my kids' sense of curiosity, wonder and love of learning. It also includes giving them a safe space to be fully themselves, whether they be with family, with friends, or off alone somewhere. Homeschooling allows me to facilitate a balance of each, according to each child's needs for social interaction and "alone time". It also allows me to protect them from some of the most toxic aspects of our culture for a while longer than I would be able to otherwise.

Physical safety? Well, that's what seat belts, bike helmets, eyes in the back of my head, prayer and luck are for. And if, God forbid, the unthinkable were to occur, I'd be grateful to have had the extra hours of learning, love and togetherness that homeschooling gave us.

Scheduling

2007-04-09T16:06:00.000-04:00

I am a Flylady failure. I tried her system on two seperate occassions, and flunked out both times. Someone recommended the Home Management Binder system (*see note), at the heart of which are detailed schedules for each day. Desperate for some order in my life, I gave it a try. I always said I was not a "schedule" type of person. Apparently it's true, and that's exactly why I *need* a schedule to get anything done! I waste inordinate amounts of time when left to my own devices and then wonder why I don't have time for anything. With the schedules, I actually have *more* guilt-free free time than I did when I was always thinking, "I *should* be doing something else right now." I had fallen out of the schedule habit for several months and the chaos crept back slowly but surely. I'm back on track now and glad to be.

Below are some pictures of my binder. In addition to the schedule pages there are sections with frequently used recipes, to-do lists, weekly housekeeping tasks, etc. It really is nice to have everything in one place. Most pages are cased in page protectors so I can make notes on them with dry erase markers. The page protectors also allow me to pull the recipe out and use it in the kitchen without worrying about splatters and such. On the cover are "Guidelines for our Home" which include ideals we would like to live by to make our home a place of simplicity, love and warmth.

Here is today's schedule, for example. Sections in blue are items which include the kids. This makes it easy for Brianna to check the schedule to see what's up for them that day:

MONDAY

7:00 – 7:30 get up, play game with Alexander (and B. if up)
7:30 – 8:00 Make bread dough
8:00 – 8:45 Breakfast – clean up after
8:45 – 9:30 Shower and dress, brush teeth, etc.
9:30 – 10:00 Morning Meeting; Kids pick daily chores to be done before lunch
(Check bread)
10:00 – 10:30 Mommy’s quiet time
(Check bread if necessary)
10:30 – 11:30 Housework time
11:30 – 12:00 Fix lunch & tend to bread (1/2 hour warning on chores if needed)
12:00 – 12:30 Lunch
12:30 Xander leaves for school
12:30 – 3:00 Homeschool time with Brianna (plus library or short errands)
3:00 Pick up Xander
4:00 – 5:00 Make simple dinner and clean kitchen
5:00 – 5:30 Eat dinner
5:30 – 7:15 Brianna’s swimming class
7:30 Bedtime for kids (Poppy?)
8:00 – 10:00 TV time
10:00 Evening Routine
10:30 Get ready for bed
11:00 In bed

You'll notice the lack of computer time on today's schedule. According to the schedule, I should be making a quick dinner right now, but Brianna's swimming class was cancelled, so I have some unexpected free time.

The kids like it too, because they know what to expect. "Morning meeting" is something new that we are trying out, and I tried very hard to keep it at 9:30 every day. (I think there was only one day when it was impossible.) Most days I have exercise scheduled in, which seems to be the only way I can manage to get to it.

Just don't ask me how I'm going to manage this in the fall with a newborn, lol! I may have to take a break for another few months or longer. ;o)

*NOTE* I won't link to the site I got the binder idea from because the basic binder and mother's schedule system are the only parts I can recommend. The woman who runs the site also schedules her children's every move -- down to when it is child X's turn to sit on the sofa and read (Yikes!) -- and believes in training her children like dogs to obey the parent's every command just as she apparently obeys her husband's every command. (I need a barf icon here!) I simply can't in good conscience direct any traffic her way. If anyone wants to know more about the pearls I picked out of that mud, I'd be happy to share via email.

Quickening

2007-04-03T22:34:00.000-04:00

Sunday evening, Alexander needed me to sit in his room with him while he fell asleep. He's going through a phase of fear of being alone, so we find ourselves doing this often. With one of us there, he generally falls asleep quickly.

As I sat reading quietly on Sunday in Alexander's room I felt the first unmistakable stirrings of the babe within. I recognized it immediately, even though it has been at least 5 years since I last felt those first flutters of movement. Alexander was asleep by this time, but I remained for a few minutes more, cherishing the soft gentle nudges while they lasted. Historically, this was considered a sacred moment -- the moment the fetus became a person. In spite of all of our knowledge of fetal development, it still feels sacred and significant for me, as it does for most moms, I think.