Thinning the weeds

The Walking Dead: Live or Die in "18 Miles Out"

2012-02-26T22:22:00.004-05:00

Tonight’s episode of The Walking Dead, “18 Miles Out,” had at its center the choice we make to live or die when faced with extraordinarily difficult circumstances. If you lived in a world where there were more zombies than live human beings, would you continue to fight for some sort of life or would you give up and welcome death?

I just finished reading The Giver with my eighth graders. If you haven’t read it—don’t worry—we’re beginning to live it. It’s the world of Sameness. Everyone lives in the same kind of dwelling. There is no upper, middle, or lower class. The government chooses your job for you. The government feeds you. The government chooses your spouse for you and provides children for you via “birth mothers”—surrogates who are impregnated three times in three years and then become laborers. (I enjoy the irony in that every time I read it.)

No one wants for anything because the government provides it all. No one has to think for himself or herself. There is no creativity. There is no color. There is no music. No one minds because it’s been like that for so long that the only person who remembers anything different is The Giver.

The government also decides when you’ve outlived your usefulness, when you’ve become a burden on society, and they “release” you from the community. They put a syringe in your arm and kill you. Anybody remember Obama’s statement when he was campaigning about giving Grandma a pill when she’s diagnosed with a terminal disease?

It’s a horrible world in The Giver when contrasted with the world we still have—the world where we can educate ourselves, choose our own paths, get up off our own asses and make our own lives. My eighth graders still recognize that the world of choice and personal freedoms is a better place to live than the community of Sameness in the world of The Giver.

When we finished the book, one of my students asked me if I would “apply for release” if I lived in The Giver’s world. (The community members can do this; they don’t know they’ll be killed.) Would it be better to die than to live in such a world?

I think in both instances I’d choose life. I’d believe that somehow, someway, we’d make a life and the zombies would eventually really and truly die. We’d be able to start over.

I think if I lived in The Giver’s community and I knew the difference between Sameness and a world of personal freedoms, I’d fight against a government that denied me the life I have now.

In fact, that’s what I’m doing.

Cherish the choices you have. Guard them. The government does not know better than you what is best for you. You do not need them to take care of you. You are not entitled to a better life simply because you’re living and breathing. You’re entitled to the best life you can carve out for yourself. And you’re living in the best country in the world to make the best life for yourself because of the Constitution of the United States.

Don't choose the easy way out.

Government knows better than Mom what preschooler should eat?

2012-02-17T21:52:00.004-05:00

With the new FDA guidelines that schools have to adhere to, we are now living in a country where the government can tell school-age children that their parents aren’t feeding them properly, but the government will take care of them and do it right.

When a school-age child brings a sack lunch from home, food inspectors have to check that sack lunch to ensure it meets dietary guidelines. If the inspector decides it does not meet those guidelines, then the school “supplements” the child’s sack lunch with a school lunch, often charging the parents for that school-provided meal.

I’m not making this up. Read this article from the Feb. 14 issue of the Carolina Journal. A preschool child had a sack lunch with a turkey and cheese sandwich, a banana, potato chips, and apple juice. The inspector said she also needed a vegetable and made her take a whole tray of food from the cafeteria. What did the child end up eating? Three chicken nuggets from the tray. Nothing else. She took her sack lunch home, untouched.

The issue is not whether or not the lunch provided by the mother met the guidelines (which it did). The issue is that there are guidelines that parents have to follow when packing their children’s lunches. The issue is that the government has the power to say, “You’re not feeding your children right. We know better. Let us take care of you.” That is the issue. That is the message this government wants our children growing up to believe.

I treasure my personal freedoms provided to me by the Constitution of this great country. The same great country, may I remind—or inform, if you didn’t know this before—my readers that was maligned by Barak Obama’s “former” preacher. The preacher whose church the Obamas attended for more than 20 years. The preacher who married Barak and Michelle Obama. The preacher who was caught on tape saying, “God bless America? I say, ‘Goddamn America!'”

And I would say our president is taking that message to heart. He is damning our country and those of us who live here. He and his policy makers are stepping all over our freedoms. He is hell-bent on making us dependent on the government for more and more and more. He is hell-bent on dividing us and pitting us against each other. He is hell-bent on creating a generation of citizens who believe they are entitled to things they haven’t earned simply because they exist.

I work. I strive to be successful. I take pride in my work and in my success. I don’t want a handout. I want the FREEDOM to grow and live and learn. I want to know there are people who have accomplished more than I have because they give me something to dream about, not just for me but for my daughter and for her future children.

I want to continue to live in a world where I’m allowed to write a blog like this, knowing I won’t be arrested for it. In many countries in the world, I couldn’t do this without risk of great harm to myself and those I love.

Don’t give away your freedoms. Don’t ask for the government to provide for you. Before you know it, the government will be deciding where you live, where you work, and how many children you can have. It’s what he wants.

Be scared. Be active. Vote him out.

Stephen King's 11/22/63: Lengthy, but worth it

2012-01-07T12:46:00.003-05:00

The size of Stephen King’s behemoth 11/22/63: A Novel put me off it at first. It might you, too. At 850 pages, I wondered if it would hold my interest for the entirety of the book. And when I hit about 60 percent (I read it on my Kindle), I almost put it down. I’m glad I didn’t. Let me tell you why.

In case you’re unfamiliar with the premise of the story, Jake Epping travels back in time to attempt to prevent the assassination of JFK. My first attraction to the book was to Jake’s time-traveling. I really like the way it happens—and the way it un-happens. (I won’t explain that further; you need to read it.) I will say that my affection for the time travel itself remained constant throughout the book.

The book is as long as it is because when Jake travels back in time, he steps into 1958, putting a gap of five years between himself and his purpose for taking the leap. King has to fill those five years with narrative, so Jake assumes an alias and begins a whole new life in the past. He reinvents himself to a certain degree—which is fun to witness—and he makes choices that both resonate with his “prior” life and rebel against it.

A whole new story, separate from and yet ultimately connected to the Kennedy storyline, develops in those five years. Jake moves around the country and meets people who become important characters both to him and to the JFK assassination. It’s during this part of the story that I almost gave up on it. King writes it well, and he made me care about the new characters being introduced, but I felt as if we were never going to get to that fateful day in November 1963. What I didn’t realize at the time was that we needed all that middle stuff to make it to the goal. (I trusted Uncle Stevie that it was necessary, or else I wouldn’t have kept reading. But I have to admit to cussing at him a few times in the process.)

I won’t give away whether or not Jake succeeds in his goal of preventing JFK’s death. After all, that’s what kept me going when I wasn’t sure I wanted to keep going. I wanted to know if he was going to be able to do it.

What I ended up caring about more, when it was all said and done, were those characters King introduces in the middle and Jake’s relationships with them.

It will take you a while to read, but 11/22/63 is worth the effort. King knows what he’s doing, which is why, I guess, he does what he does.

Sons of Anarchy - To Be, Part Two (Season Finale)

2011-12-10T10:33:00.003-05:00

Did you watch the season finale of Sons of Anarchy this week? What surprised you the most? What are you still wondering about? And how are you going to pass the time between now and the beginning of Season 5?

Probably the biggest surprise for me was when Romeo & Company revealed their association with the CIA. We knew that Romeo had “a guy inside” the CIA—he’d told Jax that in the prior episode. What we didn’t know was that Romeo was working with the CIA. That was a great plot twist because it complicated everything enough to tie Jax’s hands and prevent him from killing Clay.

Because of Romeo’s connection to the CIA, the RICO sting that would have arrested many of the Sons was thwarted because the CIA needs the gun/drugs deal to go down between the Sons, the Irish, and the cartel. But the Irish will only deal with Clay. They want nothing to do with Jax. When Romeo revealed the truth of it all to Jax, it became obvious to Jax that Clay had to live to make the deal go down. If Clay died, the Irish would walk away from the deal, the RICO sting would be back in play, and Jax and his brothers would go to prison. Jax was forced to stay in Charming.

We wondered here at home if Jax would tell Tara the truth about the CIA and the RICO sting. We were happy when he told her everything, but we expected her to leave. (And yet, we couldn’t really see Maggie Siff leaving the show.) When Tara walked into the chapel at the end of the show and put her arm possessively around Jax, staring Gemma down, the juxtaposition of Tara and Jax with Gemma and JT was a great effect. Jax is at the head of the table; Tara’s his old lady; Gemma’s looking on from the periphery.

I loved, loved, loved it when Jax prevented Tig from taking the Sergeant-at-Arms position to his right and instead asked Chibs to take that place. It was a brilliant move—Tig is way too loyal to Clay to take that seat, and Chibs is an upstanding dude. The noticeable hole at the table was the empty VP seat. Will Opie show up? Will he take the office? I think he will, but it was cool that they didn’t wrap that up for us in this episode.

We all knew that Jax wouldn’t really be able to kill Clay this season. Ron Perlman’s portrayal of Clay Morrow is much too integral to the whole plot of the show to lose him. But it wouldn’t have been true to Jax’s character to just have him change his mind and not do it. The disclosure of the CIA’s involvement in the deal and the threat of RICO arrests hanging over the Sons was a perfect vehicle to prevent the murder. Jax would never sabotage his club.

The next best thing to killing Clay, though, was Jax stripping the president’s patch from Clay’s cut. It was even better than the minor slice he gave to Clay’s neck. Gemma almost got everything she wanted—Jax is staying in Charming, and he’s sitting at the head of the table. But Clay isn’t dead, and I can’t wait to see what that means for Season 5 of the Sons of Anarchy.

Sons of Anarchy - To Be, Part One - Gemma plots!

2011-12-01T21:40:00.004-05:00

Did you really think part one of the season finale for Sons of Anarchy would answer more questions than it asked? I actually thought we’d know … something. Ha! That’s what I get for thinking!

I suppose it did answer one of the biggest questions left hanging in the air from the previous episode—Clay’s not dead. The sadistic part of me that is thrilled by his evil ways is happy he’s still with us. The side of me that sympathizes with all of his victims thinks, “Really? He’s still alive? Really?” We’re led to believe it’s a temporary state of affairs as Jax is determined to do away with his stepdad—with the help of Tara and her medicine bag. But things never seem to go the way you think they’re going to, and I just can’t imagine Sons without Ron Perlman. Can you?

The jewel of the episode, though, was Katey Sagal. Oh my gosh! Gemma is the most manipulative, scheming bitch I’ve had the pleasure to watch on TV. Would she know the truth if it came up and bit her on the ass? I’m thinking not. Last week, we were wondering what was up with the kiss she gave Clay and her telling him that she loved him when only the week before she’d told Wayne that Clay needed to die. Now, this week, she tells the surgeon to keep Clay alive—with about as much interest and enthusiasm as I show for a bologna sandwich (not much)—so that she can manipulate Jax into killing him. It didn’t surprise me that she wanted Jax to kill Clay, but what a convoluted path we took to that point.

Then, we also have Gemma and her double-dealing with Jax and Tara. First, she convinces Tara to cough up JT’s letters and promises Tara that she’ll give the letters to Clay so that he’ll calm down and stop killing people. When Tara asks Gemma if Gemma understands that she and Jax are taking the boys and leaving Charming, Gemma says yes. And she says it without a hint of anger—only resignation evident on her face as if she knows there’s nothing she can do to prevent it.

A couple scenes later, though, we have Gemma walking into the chapel at the clubhouse where Jax is sorting through Clay’s paperwork. She hands Jax the letters and tells him everything—well, almost everything. She conveniently leaves out the part about JT’s death that implicates her and Wayne. After she tells Jax about Clay killing JT, about Clay killing Piney, and about Clay putting out the hit on Tara, there’s nothing left for Jax to do but kill Clay. And then, Gemma says, after he does, he has to take his rightful seat at the head of the table. So much for being resigned to Jax and Tara leaving Charming, right?

Next week—the season finale—will hopefully answer some of our questions. Will Jax kill Clay? I don’t think so. We need him around. Will Jax and Tara leave Charming? Jax won’t, but I think Tara might. Will the ‘Niners retaliate for Tig’s rogue attack that killed Laroy’s woman? What’s gonna happen to Opie, Bobby, Juice, and Otto? And what will my favorite bitch do for kicks next week? Gemma is the epic mother figure, isn’t she? Don’t mess with her family and don’t try to upset her happy home. Hell truly hath no fury as a pissed-off Gemma.

I don’t know what I’m gonna do when Season 4 of Sons of Anarchy ends next week. I guess I’ll have to re-watch the earlier seasons to get me through until next year and Season 5 begins. Maybe we should form a support group or something—share our favorite scenes, lines, murders, laughs. But I digress … we’ve got one episode left and I’ll bet Kurt Sutter’s got a helluva story planned. See ya next week!

Sons of Anarchy - Discussion, Part 1

2011-11-26T22:50:00.002-05:00

OK, so I can tell I've got a lot of people reading my Sons of Anarchy blogs, but hardly any comments. I'd love to know what you're all thinking, so I'm inviting you to share your thoughts, your hopes, and your fears for the end of this season as well as into Season 5.

Do you want Clay to die? Why or why not?

Do you want Jax to leave Charming? Why or why not?

What do you want for Gemma and her relationships with Clay, Jax, Tara, and Wayne?

How do you feel about Otto ratting out Bobby and the Sons?

What do you want for Opie now that he knows about what Clay has done and has shot Clay?

Do you want Tara to stay with Jax if Jax decides to stay in Charming? Why or why not?

Anything else on your mind about the Sons of Anarchy? Please feel free to share. I'm eager to hear your thoughts!!

Thanks for reading. Please keep coming back!

Sons of Anarchy - "Burnt and Purged Away" Opie Shoots Clay

2011-11-23T22:24:00.002-05:00

Did Opie kill Clay this week on Sons of Anarchy in the “Burnt and Purged Away” episode? The show has been building up to Clay’s demise for weeks now, but I never really believed they’d kill him off. How does the show go on without Ron Perlman’s Clay? The ending definitely didn’t make it clear—Opie shot Clay twice, but were they fatal wounds? I didn’t think they were until we watched the previews for next week. Did you see them? Clay looked dead.

Are you mystified by Gemma’s actions this week? A couple weeks ago, she told Wayne that Clay couldn’t be saved, that he had to go by the hands of a son/Son. Then, this week she tells Wayne to recant the tale he told Opie about Clay killing Piney and she tells Clay she loves him. Does she want personal revenge? Has she had a change of heart and decided she wants to try and save Clay? I love it that I don’t know, that the show constantly keeps me guessing.

Why did Jax try and stop Opie from killing Clay? Did he do it for Clay or did he do it for Ope? Did he really want Clay to have to answer to the club, or was he just worried about what would happen to Opie if he murdered Clay in cold blood? Jax doesn’t know about the letters, so he probably does have a hard time believing Clay would shoot Piney.

I’ve enjoyed Drea de Matteo’s return to play Wendy in the last two episodes. She’s a great actress, and Wendy is interesting now that she’s sober. But could Jax and Tara have any more complications in their lives? Death threats, damaged hands, warfare with rival gangs and cartels, and now the ex-junkie ex-wife is back and wanting to spending time with her son, Abel.

How did you feel about Bobby’s arrest? I can’t make up my mind about how I feel about it. I really like Bobby. As far as the Sons go, I think he’s one with a lot of integrity—MC integrity to be sure as it’s all relative—but still, he’s a good guy. Yet Otto has done so much for SAMCRO while he’s been inside and he was right—he only asked for them to protect Luanne. Not only did they not do that, but Bobby had carnal knowledge of Otto’s old lady. I guess I’ll say that I don’t blame Otto one bit, but I feel bad for Bobby all the same.

Where’s this wild ride gonna take us next week. We only have two episodes left this season. Did Clay die? If he didn’t, how will Gemma react to all of this? What’s gonna happen to Opie for shooting Clay? What’s gonna happen to Bobby inside and how long are the feds gonna hold Juice? Will Wendy get to see Abel? Will Tara stay with Jax in Charming—because I don’t see him leaving anytime soon now, do you?

I love Sons of Anarchy. I love the twists, the turns, and the characters that are so well written and so well played that I feel as if I know them. I’m glad Opie shot Clay. But I want Clay to live. He’s too bad to lose.

Sons of Anarchy - "Hands" Clay beats Gemma

2011-11-09T20:04:00.002-05:00

I can’t believe Clay didn’t kill Gemma in this week’s episode of Sons of Anarchy. Leaving her alive is signing the death warrant for one—or maybe both—of them. He has to know that she’s done with him and his lies and his greed. He has to know that she intends to tell Jax everything, and that, once Jax knows—about JT, about Piney, about Tara, about what Clay did to Gemma—he won’t rest until Clay is dead. And Gemma isn’t safe just because she's still breathing.

Who’s gonna move first—and fastest?

The episode was aptly named—“Hands”—don’t ya think? Clay’s hands are in everything except he’s holding on to less and less with them. His power is crumbling, and in that scene with Romeo after the botched hit, he’s beginning to realize it. Romeo’s pulling Clay’s strings now, and all the pres can do is dance when told.

Then we have Clay and Gemma putting their hands on each other. I thought Gemma’s rape was brutal to watch in the second season, but the beating she took at Clay’s hands in this episode was at least that bad. This was someone who was supposed to have loved her. I flinched away when his fist came down at the screen and it faded to black for a commercial. Ron Perlman and Katey Sagal are phenomenal actors. Hats off to them, always.

As the episode opens, the attempt to steal Tara away is botched, and the van door slams shut on her hand, the obvious reference to the title is clear. She’s so bitter after her operation, trying to deal with the news that she may never use her hand—at least for surgery—again. She has every right to be pissed about her hand, to be bitter, to be depressed. But I hate it that she blames Jax. I hate it when women on shows like this (think Carmela on The Sopranos) get involved with a bad boy and then get all righteous when the bad boy’s lifestyle incriminates or harms them in some way. Jax is who he is. He’s still living the life he was living when she got together with him, got pregnant by him, got engaged to him. She saw him and the MC with her eyes wide open. Who’s surprised she’s been in danger and gotten hurt?

There are lots of other people’s hands getting dirty too. Poor Wayne. His hands are all over Piney’s murder scene, trying to clean up what Clay left behind. Roosevelt’s hands are dirty in the way he’s dealt with Juice and the feds, but at least he knows it and tried to apologize for it. Opie’s reaching out his hands to Jax, begging his friend not to leave SAMCRO. Poor Ope. I’m still wondering what’s gonna go down when he discovers his dad’s dead. I don’t think Jax will be able to leave Opie (and the MC) then.

I can’t decide what I want to happen to Clay. He’s so bad, and that’s what makes the show so much fun to watch. He’s growing more and more evil with time. I can’t imagine him ever coming back from it. Like Gemma told Wayne, “Clay can’t be saved.”

But what happens to the Sons of Anarchy—the show and the fictional MC—without him? I don’t like the pain he inflicts on the others, but I don’t want him to go.

Tune in next week—the episode is 90 minutes long. What do they have in store for us in Charming?

The Walking Dead: Lori pregnant in "Cherokee Rose"?

2011-11-08T21:41:00.002-05:00

This week’s episode of The Walking Dead (“Cherokee Rose”) wasn’t as exciting as last week’s, but I guess they can’t all be quite as intense as that one.

I think my favorite part was when they were trying to get that zombie out of the well. First—hats off to the dude playing the zombie. He was both highly entertaining and disgusting at the same time. But the best part of that scene was—if you saw it, you know what I’m going to say—the part where the zombie, well, ripped apart. Did you see the maggots that flushed out of his abdomen and lay squiggling on the ground? They do revolting well on that show, don’t they? I loved it!

My next favorite part was Daryl’s scene with Carol in the RV when he brought her the flower the episode was named for and told her the story behind it. When a redneck like Daryl shows a sensitive side like he did, it strikes a chord with me. And I’m feeling optimistic too—I think they’ll find Sophia, and I don’t think she’ll be bitten when they do.

When Glenn and Maggie got busy in the pharmacy, I didn’t really like it and here’s why. I like Glenn. He’s a good guy. He’s always helping people and he never loses his temper. We know he likes Maggie—they’ve been giving us those clues for a couple weeks. Glenn deserves better than to be used, and I think that’s what Maggie was doing. I almost think that’s why she took Glenn with her. I’m wondering—and so is my husband (in fact, he wondered first)—if she didn’t plan the sex in the hopes of getting pregnant. There were some interesting looks passing between her and her father before and after she and Glenn went to town. I know, sex is sex is sex. They’re both adults and they’re lonely and they got lucky. But I still want more for Glenn.

Then, finally, we have Lori and the pregnancy test. I’ve lost track of how much time has passed since Rick found her and Carl, so I don’t know if she’s wondering who the daddy is, but I think the writers want us to wonder. Was the distraught face she showed us at the end of the episode caused by her confusion over the paternity of the baby, or is it her fear about raising another child in the world they live in? Remember how she talked about not saving Carl because the world is so horrible? Remember how she said maybe he’d be better off if they just let him go? How would that mother feel about trying to care for a baby in the world of The Walking Dead?

Looking forward to next week. And still wondering if we’ll see Otis as a zombie. Shane should have shot him in the head.

Dexter Can't "Just Let Go"

2011-11-06T22:32:00.003-05:00

Did you think that Brother Sam was going to be able to help Dexter leave his Dark Passenger behind? I did. I really did. And then, sadly, in this week’s episode (“Just Let Go”), Brother Sam died, and put Dexter to his most rigorous test yet.

Brother Sam asked Dexter to tell Nick, the man whom Brother Sam had tried desperately to save from a life of crime, that he forgave Nick for shooting—and killing—him. That’s not how Dexter operates—forgive the pun. Dexter knew before Brother Sam made his dying request that Nick was the one who pulled the trigger. He’d already begun to plan how he was going to get Nick onto his table.

But Dexter liked and respected Brother Sam, and he wanted to believe—I think—that there was a lightness inside him that Sam could see and that could maybe, eventually, be brought out to shine over the Dark Passenger Dexter carries with him. So he tried to carry out Brother Sam’s wish.

When he took Nick for that walk on the beach, I didn’t know how it was going to go with Dexter. I did believe, though, that when Nick found out Sam forgave him before he died, Nick would convert and be the person Brother Sam thought he could be. I think maybe that’s what Dexter thought would happen too because he was giving Sam’s request consideration.

And then Nick laughed because Dexter was the only person who knew of Nick’s guilt. Nick was jubilant that he’d gotten away with the murder.

Dexter, as he told us, hit his fork in the road. Nick’s laughter was more than Dexter and his darkness could handle, and he drowned Nick there in the knee-deep surf. And I think he also drowned any hope he had of finding the light inside himself. It made me really sad for Dexter.

Then, when Big Brother Brian shows up at the very end of the episode, I got really worried about Dexter. On the same day that he loses Brother Sam—someone who saw both the light and the dark in Dexter and believed in the strength of the light—the darkest figure in Dexter’s life comes back.

The trailer for next week’s episode of Dexter promises a reconnection with Trinity. Will Dexter ever be able to separate himself from his Dark Passenger? And is he even going to want to anymore, now that Sam is gone?

Sons of Anarchy - "Kiss" and Clay orders the hit

2011-11-05T22:20:00.002-04:00

At the end of Sons of Anarchy this week, Clay dialed the number that Romeo gave him for the hit man. We heard it ringing. Lots of dramatic irony this week—we know stuff Clay doesn’t know. We know Jax and the boys are going with Tara to Oregon. Clay thinks she’s going alone. But remember what Romeo said, once the ball is set in motion, it can’t be stopped.

So who’s going to die? Tara and Jax? Tara or Jax? I don’t think so. I could maybe see Tara, maybe. But my money’s on one or both of the kids. Will Gemma “kiss” that murder away from Clay like she did Piney’s? Will Wayne help her cover that up too?

Clay’s not happy with Jax right now. Jax wants out earlier than what he promised Clay, and we know Clay is all about Clay. He wouldn’t mind if his VP was gone. But Gemma would mind. A lot. And I think even Clay would feel bad if he was responsible for the deaths of the boys. I think. He’s such a viper, it’s hard to tell.

Gemma keeps letting me down. I know she loves Clay. But she’s not blind to his darkness, and she knows what he’s capable of. She knows who he’s hurt and who he’s capable of hurting, and yet she keeps trusting him. I want her to be more honest. I want her to take better care of her family. She keeps letting me down. Maybe she keeps believing in Clay because if she has to really see him for who he is, then she has to see herself for who she is too, and what she’s helped him do all these years. I just really used to think she was a better mom than she’s turning out to be.

I hate it that Juice seems to be believing Lincoln, the federal agent who’s been blackmailing him. And don’t you just hate what the cops are doing to Otto? That poor guy has taken it and taken it for SAMCRO and here he’s getting it from the feds. I want some retribution for Otto!

Who knows where this crazy story is going next? Will Clay’s hit succeed, and, if it does, who’s going to take the bullet? Sons of Anarchy is one of the best shows on TV and this “Kiss” episode is another example why. See ya next week!

The Walking Dead: Shane shooting Otis--Hero or Coward?

2011-10-31T21:02:00.002-04:00

Sacrifices on The Walking Dead this week: Blood. An arrow. A gun. A life. The episode was called “Save the Last One.” Save the last child—Carl? Or save the last bullet? Shane saved the last bullet so that he could help save Carl. When he shot Otis, was he acting the hero or the coward? The truth of the satirical maxim, “I don’t have to outrun the zombies, I just have to outrun you” became abundantly clear in this episode.

Otis volunteered to go with Shane to get the medical supplies for Carl because he was racked with guilt over accidentally shooting Carl in the first place. When they got to the school, Otis told Shane which trailer held the supplies and together they outsmarted (and outran) the zombies. Then it got ugly.

Getting from the trailer to the truck with the supplies proved impossible, so Shane and Otis had to take refuge in the school. They didn’t stay safe for long, though, so they made a pact to leave separately and meet up outside the building and head for the truck. They succeeded in that. But then the zombies converged on them again, and both men were slow because they had hurt their ankles jumping during their escape from the school. They shot at the zombies until they each had only one bullet left, and the zombies kept coming.

“I don’t have to outrun the zombies. I only have to outrun you.”

Did Shane do the right thing shooting Otis? Part of me says yes. He had to do whatever he could to save Carl who is practically family to Shane. After all, what would Rick have done if he’d been in Shane’s shoes? There was no way they were going to escape the herd together.

The biggest problem I have with what Shane did—and it isn’t lying about it when he got back to the farmhouse—is that he shot Otis in the leg and not the head. That was cruel. The zombies would have stopped and eaten Otis anyway, if Shane had shot him in the head. And, if he’d shot him in the head, there’d be no chance that Otis could show up as a zombie later.

Shane’s got issues, but I don’t blame him for shooting Otis. I blame him for leaving him alive.

Sons of Anarchy - "Family Recipe" and Piney's last stand

2011-10-27T21:23:00.003-04:00

I knew what was coming this week on Sons of Anarchy, didn’t you? Yet when Clay pulled the trigger and literally ripped Piney’s heart out of his chest, I could do nothing but sit and stare at the TV with my mouth hanging open. Some part of me had hoped that Piney would make it another episode or two.

Clay had figuratively ripped Piney’s heart out a long time ago. The president’s greed and his penchant for making his own rules have destroyed everything the First 9 created. Piney knew he was marking time, but he believed he was going to last long enough to bring down Clay. I didn’t let my optimism carry me that far (besides, we need a criminal like Clay to keep the tension high), but I still can’t believe Piney’s gone. How’s Opie gonna take it? What’s Jax gonna think?

And I also have to address my post from last week. As many pointed out on various sites (including this one!), the branch did break and Juice didn’t manage to hang himself. I feel for this guy, don’t you? He loves the Sons so much—they really are his family—and he was forced to betray them or have his race revealed to them. Can you imagine the torture he’s been going through? And now, Chibs knows. How bad is it gonna get for Juice? If/When Clay finds out….I don’t want to think about it.

Then we have Tara preparing to leave Charming for the safety of Abel and Thomas (and herself). Is she actually gonna go? I don’t see it. I just don’t see her leaving. It screws up the dynamics of the show, don’t you think? But I love how protective Wayne is being with the whole threatening letter thing—the lengths he’s going to and the risks he’s taking—he’s trying so hard to do what’s right (in his own, twisted mind).

And, because the episode is called “Family Recipe,” we can’t overlook the comic relief that Chuckie offers us every time he’s onscreen. The chili scene with the deputies reminded me of the “secret’s in the sauce” bit in Fried Green Tomatoes. How hilarious was that when Gemma stirred the pot and found the secret ingredient? It’s good that we get to chuckle every now and then. These episodes are getting crazy—and GREAT!!

No one can predict what’s going to happen next on Sons of Anarchy. But we can’t wait to find out, can we? See ya next week!

Sons of Anarchy - "Fruit for Crows" RIP Juice

2011-10-21T22:09:00.005-04:00

If you watched Sons of Anarchy this week, you had to hand it to Bobby—it took some cojones to call for a vote for a new president. He sees the damage Clay is doing to the club, and he cares enough to try and stop it. I’m left wondering what it’s going to end up costing Bobby after the vote because you just know that Clay’s not handing over that gavel.

Clay is slowly but surely eating the club down to the bone. It’s all about him—his greed, his lust for power and control, and (I think) his fear of his own weakening hands. What good’s a Son who can’t ride—let alone a president who can’t?

I’m ashamed of the rest of the club that are going against their own consciences and gut feelings to follow Clay down the drug and guns trail. I understand that it’s a loyalty thing. I know it’s also a trust thing—they truly trust Clay and don’t believe he’d do anything that would hurt the club. That makes his deception even worse because he knows that about his guys. He knows they trust him and believe him and he’s using that to his own personal advantage while he destroys SAMCRO.

We can’t forget, either, about the “strange fruit” hanging in the tree at the end of the episode “Fruit for the Crows.” Clay has that on his hands too because if he hadn’t started the whole guns-and-coke thing with the cartel, the feds would have had no use for Juice. Clay’s eaten Juice’s life away, but no one’s going to hold him responsible, are they?

Clay has no “off” switch. He’s gonna have to be disabled or he’ll never have enough. He’ll never stop. No matter what. No. Matter. Who.

Sons of Anarchy - Where'd the honor go?

2011-10-14T23:53:00.006-04:00

One of the foundations of SAMCRO is supposed to be honor. It’s an honor to be patched in to the club. You honor your brothers in the club. You even, to a lesser degree, honor members’ old ladies—not crow eaters, but old ladies. You honor the code of the club—you protect the club.

Well, in this girl’s opinion, poor ol’ Piney’s the only one with any honor left in him. Maybe Chibs too, but he did vote in favor of the guns and the coke this season.

Don’t get me wrong—I’m not complaining about the show—far from it. There are all kinds of conflicts being built up as a result of the lack of honor in the club. It’s making for great TV.

First of all, everybody’s lying, and they’re not lying about who forgot to take out the trash or who didn’t clean up the clubhouse. Gemma and Clay are lying to each other about JT’s letters. Clay’s lying to Jax about the extracurricular activities he’s asked Romeo to conduct. Juice is lying to everybody about the brick of coke—and Miles died for that one. Wayne’s lying to Gemma and Clay about the letters. Lyla lied to Opie so Opie cheated on her. It’s one big cluster and it’s a mystery as to who’s gonna die in the middle of it because you know Miles won’t be the last.

I feel bad for Piney. He’s one of the First 9, and he’s watching his club disintegrate around him—and I do mean his club, the club he helped establish. Clay’s wretched morals are eating it away from the inside out. I was actually happy when Piney punched Opie this week, and I agreed with him when he told his son, “I don’t even know who you are anymore.” I think he could have been talking about any of the Sons when he said that.

My heart also breaks a little for Wayne. Yeah, he was a really crooked, dirty cop, but there’s something sweet about him too. He loves Gemma—and I’ve never gotten the feeling that it’s lustful love, but more of a father-daughter love. Maybe I’m not seeing that completely straight, but that’s what I think. Wayne’s been a protector of the club. You’d be hard-pressed to name a crime he hasn’t committed to keep SAMCRO safe. And now, his gut’s telling him—rightly so—that Clay’s up to the kind of no good that could result in a murder that would rip apart the lives of everyone in the club, if Wayne can’t stop it. So Wayne’s going up against Clay, a plastic Big Wheel against a diesel locomotive, but I’m rooting for the Big Wheel.

There’s some honor left in Charming. Piney’s is intact, and Wayne’s struggling to hold onto what’s left of his. There’s a battle brewing, and not all of the Sons will be standing when it’s over. Maybe the right ones will fall, and honor can find its rightful place in the chapel again.

But, now, how much fun would that be?

Breaking Bad Season Four Finale

2011-10-11T21:31:00.006-04:00

Season Four of Breaking Bad wrapped up this week, and what a season it’s been! For some reason, I was under the impression that this was the final season, and the suspense and cliff-hangers built into each episode helped support that false belief. I’m grateful that we’re going to have one more season—I love this show! But I’m also apprehensive because seriously, how are they going to top this season?

If you’re unfamiliar with the AMC hit, first of all, shame on you! But rest easy—you can get the early episodes on DVD. The show’s two main characters are Walter White, a high school chemistry teacher, and Jesse Pinkman, a low-level meth cook and dealer. Walter finds out in the pilot episode that he has lung cancer, and his prognosis is bad. His wife is a writer who makes little if anything working from home. Together, they have a son, Walt Junior, who’s in high school, and who has cerebral palsy. Plus, the Whites are expecting a new baby. They’re in debt and have no assets. Walter’s worried about how his family will get along once he’s dead.

Then he takes a ride with his DEA brother-in-law, Hank, and watches the good guys bust a meth lab. While Walter watches the raid from the car, he sees his former, way-underperforming student, Jesse, jump from a window and elude the police. Walt’s a smart guy and a great chemist. He has a general understanding of how much money can be made from cooking and selling meth, and he has the know-how to produce it. Jesse, obviously, has the beginnings of a marketing network. Together, they form a (criminal) partnership and the fun begins.

In the first two seasons, Walt and Jesse go up against characters of all types—vicious and lethal, bumbling and hilarious, sad and stupid. The minor characters add layers to the story and help develop Walter and Jesse’s characters further. And then they meet Gus Fring at the end of Season Two.

Gus offers them a job that seems like it’s too good to be true. Well, you know what they say about things seem too good to be true, dontcha? Throughout Season Three, the enigma that is Gus begins to grow claws and teeth. During this last season, Gus shows us his worst, and brings out the worst in Walt and Jesse in the process.

I loved the way the final episode of Season Four ended. I loved the way certain plot lines were wrapped up and the way they implicated Walt at the end in a crime that I just can’t believe—and yet I have to believe—he committed.

Next season will likely be a battle of values—trust, love, and honor—between Walt and Jesse. Bryan Cranston and Aaron Paul are phenomenal actors, so I have no doubt their portrayals of these constantly evolving characters will be worth watching. I hope, though, when it’s all said and done—for good—this time next year, that I won’t be wishing Breaking Bad had ended this week with “Face Off.”

Sons of Anarchy and Flesh-eating Ants

2011-09-25T13:00:00.004-04:00

I love the episode titles for Sons of Anarchy. Last week’s was “Dorylus.” I had to look it up because, if they mentioned it during the episode, I missed it. As soon as I saw the links that Google pulled up for me, I understood. It’s a type of ant. A mean, “flesh-eating” ant, to be specific.

The literal reference to the episode is the scene at the Wahewa reservation where Clay and Bobby are taken by Charlie Horse to see a man who was buried up to his shoulders in the ground and who was covered in dorylus—flesh-eating—ants. The Wahewa hoped to see the man suffer another couple days before he died. Clay had other ideas.

As is often the case with Clay these days.

I think “Dorylus” was a well-chosen name for the figurative “flesh-eating” that’s going on in SAMCRO right now. Clay, with Jackson’s help, is slowly but surely devouring the club. He’s tearing it apart. It’s not going to be a quick death, it’s not going to be pretty, and it’s certain to be painful—probably even deadly for more than one Son before it’s all over.

Clay’s appetite and greed are so selfish that he is destroying the “family” he’s sworn to protect and love for his whole life. Will Jax continue to help Clay eat SAMCRO down to the bone, or will he stand up for the club before it’s all over? What will Bobby do?

I love this show because it’s so well written, the characters are so well drawn, and the conflicts are so multi-layered that you never know what will happen next. But you can’t wait to find out.

Oh, yeah, and it’s one of those shows where I just can’t help myself—I root for the bad guys.

Saying goodbye to the Summer of 2011

2011-08-13T14:30:00.003-04:00

It’s almost time to go back to school, and I’m not looking forward to kissing this summer goodbye. It’s been eventful, and I’m grateful to have the memories from it that I do. I shared time with people I love, so this post is dedicated to them and the Summer of 2011.

Only three days after I signed out of school in June, Terry, Tori, and I headed to Chicago with Mom and Dad. We spent the night only a few miles from O’Hare, got up early the next morning, and caught a shuttle to the airport. Where did we go, you ask? Mexico! We landed in Cancun about four hours after taking off, and, within another hour or so, we stepped across the threshold of the Now Jade all-inclusive resort in Puerto Morales, about twenty miles south of Cancun.

We spent four nights that I’ll never forget in that beautiful resort on the Caribbean Sea. I watched my mom and dad walk hand-in-hand across the sand so that they could wade together in the sea. I’ve got a picture of Terry and my dad with their arms around each other, waving at me underneath the big blue sky. I don’t know how many hours—all together—Mom, Tori, and I spent in the water, playing in the waves, exclaiming every time we saw a school of silvery fish flash by.

I’ll never forget the night we ate at the Asian restaurant, Spice, and Mom discovered that maybe margaritas aren’t so very bad after all! She had so much fun that night and kept us laughing out loud the whole time we were there. (She went on to discover that Dos Equis isn’t a bad beer, either, during lunch one afternoon in Playa del Carmen.)

There are so many moments from that trip that I have locked away—in photos and in my memories. I’m so happy that we all got to experience that trip together.

Just a few weeks ago, Tori and I took our annual trip to the Smoky Mountains. We rented a cabin a few miles outside Gatlinburg, up the steepest driveway I’ve ever encountered! It unnerved us quite a bit when we arrived to find the front door unlocked and hanging open. It wasn’t dark yet, so we explored to make sure we were alone and about jumped out of our skins when the pinball machine that was upstairs in the loft started talking. It took us a while to settle down after that, but with the help of an episode of Pretty Little Liars, we were able to chill and sleep well that night.

It was one of our more laid back vacations down there this year. We didn’t whitewater raft, which we often do. We hiked, but we chose trails that offered waterfalls at the ends of them instead of mountain peaks. We shopped, but we avoided the outlet mall. We did take a haunted tour of Gatlinburg, which was big fun, and in the process, got to see a bear! There’s only been one year that we’ve been in the Smokies in the last nine years that we haven’t seen a bear, and every year except this year we’ve seen them at Cades Cove, in the national park. This young one was hanging out behind a church downtown, and we startled it as tour group approached. He ran off down a hill, and we continued on. It was big fun!

As much as I did enjoy the trip to the Smokies and my time with my daughter—and believe me, I did. (She’s growing up so fast, I’m trying to savor every minute I have with her here at home.) There was no denying that I missed my husband on this trip. We’ve become a good threesome, Terry, Tori, and I, and it felt like a piece was missing when we were apart. I figure that just means I’m really blessed—I have a daughter who I love so much and who still enjoys spending time with me, and I have a husband who is generous enough to give us our time girl-time and who I miss when we’re separated.

This has been a good summer. It was the summer that Tori got her first job—which she actually likes, thank God. It was the summer that I really got serious about freelancing and am now working on turning it into a true business for myself. It was the summer that I ALMOST finished my newest novel. (I’ll finish it soon, I swear!!)

So, as I said, I’m sorry to see the Summer of 2011 end. I’m not eager for the school year, for myself, but I am excited about the fact that it’s Tori’s senior year. She has so much to look forward to—beginnings and endings, both. I’m grateful to be her mom and to be witness to the amazing woman she’s growing up to be. I pray to God that we all have many, many more summers ahead of us.

Ladies, what do you have to offer the world?

2011-07-20T20:33:00.001-04:00

I saw a commercial on TV yesterday that insulted and angered me in a way that I don’t think I’ve ever been insulted or angered before—by a commercial, anyway. Let’s see what the rest of you think.

Ladies, how would you feel if you were told that your female anatomy was the cradle of life and the center of civilization? That many have fought and died for it? That it’s the most powerful thing on Earth?

Then, how would you feel if, after you were told that, you were also told to “show it a little love” by purchasing and using Summer’s Eve cleansing wash and cloths?

I’m getting mad again just typing this blog.

I almost didn’t put the actual name of the product in the blog because I don’t want to offer them more advertising. My hope, though, is that you all will be as insulted as I am and that you’ll boycott their products on principle.

Who thought up this campaign? Who thought, “Let’s appeal to today’s woman by telling her that the most valuable thing she has to offer the world is her lady parts and that she should do us all a favor and clean them properly”? Are you not seething at the moment, ladies?

I’d like to tell the brainiacs who came up with this campaign that the best I have to offer the world is my intelligence, my compassion, my strength, my creativity, and my heart. What about the rest of you? What do you have to offer the world? What is it about you that’s worth fighting and dying for? Is it really just your lady parts?

Of course it isn’t. And isn’t it horrible to think that Summer’s Eve—a company that should cater to women—doesn’t understand that about us?

They should be ashamed. And the people behind that ad campaign should be fired for crippling the brand.

Who would have thought that in 2011 we’d still feel the need to stand up and say, “There’s more to me than my ability to please my man and bear children”?

Not me, but I’m up for this fight. How ‘bout you, ladies?

School lunches - don't bring them from home in Chicago!

2011-04-18T11:06:00.002-04:00

In the Chicago Public Schools system, it is left to each individual principal's discretion as to whether or not students are allowed to bring their lunches from home. Six years ago, Principal Elsa Carmona effected a ban on home-packed lunches at Little Village Academy, a K-8 public school on Chicago's west side.

Carmona said in a recent article in the Chicago Tribune, “Nutrition wise, it is better for the children to eat at the school. It's about the nutrition and the excellent quality food that they are able to serve (in the lunchroom). It's milk versus a Coke.”

A CPS spokesperson was also quoted in the Tribune's article, defending Carmona's school lunch policy, saying, “this principal is encouraging the healthier choices and attempting to make an impact that extends beyond the classroom.”

It's the whole “attempting to make an impact that extends beyond the classroom” part that doesn't sit well with me, and remember, (for now) I'm a teacher.

In education today it seems we are asked more and more to “make an impact that extends beyond the classroom.” Don't get me wrong. When it comes to trying to teach our students about being responsible, conscientious citizens who want to make good choices in school and beyond, I'm all for that, and I work hard trying to do this with my students.

But more and more, we're asked – and sometimes required – to take on many roles that I firmly believe belong with the parents. This school lunch policy is a good example of the schools reaching too far beyond their boundaries. It should be up to the parents to decide what their kids will eat for lunch, to take responsibility for ensuring their children are eating well. With the computer programs being utilized in most schools , it's not hard to keep up with what our kids eat for lunch. I can check every day, if I want to, to see what my daughter bought for lunch. If parents check what their kids are buying and don't like it, then they should be parents and put a stop to it.

Another question I have, and one that is raised in the Tribune article is, what about the kids who don't like the school's food? They don't eat. They throw it away. And they have no other option. How is eating nothing “better nutrition”?

Chicago Public Schools are taking away the rights of parents to decide what to feed their children. How can this be good, and why aren't parents arguing against it, if for no other reason that the principle of the whole thing?

There will never be a time when the school knows what's better for my child than I do. Never.

Walking with Mom

2011-04-16T00:35:00.000-04:00

For many years, my mom has been participating in a Relay for Life event. She raises money, she walks for a couple hours, and she decorates luminary bags in memory and support of family and friends who have battled or are battling that disease. When she speaks of the event, of what it feels like for her to be there, she gets kind of a faraway look in her eyes and struggles to explain the experience. Regardless of the words she uses, it’s obvious how much it means to her to be there.

For the first time since Mom began participating in the Relay for Life, I joined her for a while on the track. I was there for the luminary ceremony and the playing of “Taps” by the bagpipes and drum corps. And I felt what (I think) she’d been trying for years to describe, though I too find myself at a loss to truly put my feelings into words. I can tell you that I’m sorry I haven’t been there with her before now.

I thought that I would come home and try and write about my experience with Mom, about the importance of the fundraising, the awareness, the support that the Relay for Life is all about. And while all of that is certainly worthwhile, it’s not what keeps coming to mind.

Mom keeps coming to mind.

My mom is one of those quiet supporters. She gives to so many people. She gives her time. She gives her hand. She gives her ear. She gives her shoulder. She gives her heart. My mom is the most generous person I know, and that quality in her shone so brightly at the Relay. It means so much to her to be there and be part of that.

Mom inspires me more than she knows. I pray to be the kind of mother, wife, sister, and friend that she is. I also pray that Mom always knows and never doubts how much love I have for her, how much I respect her, how much I value her friendship, how much it means to me to be able to call her “Mom.”

I’ll walk with you anywhere, Mom. I’m so proud to be your daughter.

No tears for Pia Toscano on American Idol

2011-04-08T16:54:00.001-04:00

I don't know how many of you share my sentiment, but I was very pleased with the American Idol results show last night. It was time for Pia Toscano to go home.

I won't argue that she can sing, but I don't believe she deserved to win the whole thing. First of all, I thought her performance on Idol's Wednesday night episode left a lot to be desired. When Pia sang “River Deep – Mountain High,” she only hit about every other note. When the judges all but bowed at her feet, it made me feel like we had a whole row of Paula’s sitting there.

Lately, I've been feeling too that she has this attitude that comes across as though she'd already won. There's never been any real humility about Pia, and as the last few weeks have come and gone on Idol, I think that has gotten even worse. You could tell just looking at her every Thursday night (during the results show) that she never expected to go home. I don't like arrogance in someone who is in the company of so many other talented people.

Which brings me to another reason that Thursday night's Idol honked me off: Did you hear all of the people booing when Pia was sent home? I understand that she had fans that were not happy that she got voted off. What really bothered me was when the judges joined in, so adamantly opposed to her leaving. What they were saying, in effect, is that the other people who were in the bottom three deserved to go home more than she did, which makes Randy, JLo and Steven hypocrites, if you ask me.

Jacob Lusk and Stefano Langone were in the sad seats with Pia before Ryan announced who was going home. All three judges have all but kissed the feet of both of those men after each of their performances. (Personally, I was ready to see all three of them go home last night.) Supposedly, Randy, JLo and Steven all LOVE Jacob and Stefano, so how do you suppose Jacob and Stefano felt when the judges were so against Pia going home? (Meaning, then, that they would have rather lost one of those men.)

I guess the reason for my blog today is basically that I'm just sick of a lot of the contestants already, and I'm sick of the judges loving everyone. All of the contestants are not that wonderful. They all have bad nights and hit bad notes. (And don't get me started on Haley Reinhart. If you ever get the chance to listen to her sing in between that ridiculous growl, be ready to cringe. She's rarely on pitch, which must be why she sounds like a cat in heat most of the time – she's trying to hide the fact that she can't sing.)

My reasons for sending Stefano and Jacob home? Stefano comes across as a cruise ship entertainer. I just can't stand watching him sing. He makes me feel greasy. Jacob is annoying to watch, too, and his voice isn't unique enough for me. I wouldn't turn to a different station if Jacob came on the radio, but there is nothing about his voice or his performance style that would make me want to buy one of his albums.

Who do I like? Every week I look forward to Casey Abrams and Scotty McCreery. Casey has one of the most original sounds American Idol has to offer. He's humble, he's personable, he can sing – well – and I think he'll go far. That upright base of his is a welcome diversion from all the electric, techno music being offered by so many artists these days. And then there's 17-year-old Scotty. I have to remind myself when he sings how young he is! That voice of his warms me from the inside out, and I'm always smiling by the time he hits the chorus of any song he's singing. Either one of these guys could win it all and I'd feel like there was justice on the American Idol stage.

Michael's proposal to Holly on The Office - PERFECT!!

2011-03-28T22:36:00.004-04:00

Friends is one of my all-time favorite sitcoms. I watched almost every episode when it was newly aired, and I still watch them in syndication, almost every night. The show is still funny and touching and real to me. I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of it.

One of my most favorite episodes was when Chandler and Monica got engaged. That episode was perfect. Joey was running around in his Mr. Beaumont outfit. Chandler called Richard a “big tree” and yelled at him because he “made my girlfriend think!” Monica was all torn up because Richard finally loved her enough to marry her when all she really wanted was for Chandler to stop talking about pig sex and propose to her.

How could it have gotten any better than Joey telling Chandler that Monica had left, Chandler falling quickly into depression, only to be bowled over when he found Monica in their apartment with about a hundred candles burning? When Monica said, “You wanted it to be a surprise,” I got a lump the size of a baseball in my throat. I thought that was the epitome of TV marriage proposals.

I was wrong. Michael Scott – and the rest of The Office – upstaged Friends this week.

I’ve been rooting for Michael and Holly ever since Amy Ryan walked on the set. They are absolutely perfect for each other and no matter what else you can say about Michael Scott, the guy deserves to be truly loved. He’s wanted it - and worked for it - for so long.

When Pam asked to see the engagement ring and Michael popped the lid open on the ring box, Pam and I both about collapsed. The ring was as big as a robin’s egg. Pam said (what I was thinking), “Is that real?”

Michael looked at Pam and said, “Yeah. Three years’ salary, right?” I knew then the proposal on Friends was in danger of being knocked off its pedestal.

I don’t know if I could pick a favorite part of the episode: Michael’s bad ideas for the restaurant proposal that Pam, Jim, and Oscar talked him out of; Michael’s bad idea of getting a corpse that was supposed to be him falling off the roof and losing his head over Holly; Michael stopping Holly from proposing to him. Yeah, those were all great and made me belly laugh, but they weren’t the best part.

The best part was the actual proposal. It was so typically Michael, so sweet, so weird, so from-the-heart. When he opened the door to the kitchen and everyone in the office was standing there with a candle, the guys taking turns asking Holly to marry them, that lump in my throat started growing again. When Michael and Holly made it through the kitchen (without Holly accepting any of the other proposals) and into the annex, when Michael popped open the ring box and asked her, in Yoda-speak, if she would marry him and Holly answered yes, in Yoda-speak, I heard the distant tumble of Monica and Chandler falling from the perch they’d held for so long. And I wiped my eyes.

I can’t really imagine The Office without Michael Scott. But if he has to leave, I’m really glad he isn’t going alone.

Big Love - I wasn't ready for the end.

2011-03-21T23:56:00.004-04:00

A Big Love affair of mine ended Sunday night. Yes, Terry knew all about it. In fact, he was having his own Big Love affair, and so was Tori. It was a family thing.

In case you’re not familiar with the HBO series, Big Love, well, that’s the affair that’s over. The series came to a shocking end Sunday night, and I have to say, I’m really going to miss Bill, Barb, Nicki, Margene, and their special kind of polygamist big love.

We got hooked on Big Love with its pilot episode back in 2006. Bill Henrickson was your typical suburban husband living outside Sandy, Utah, with his wife and three kids. He owned Henrickson’s Home Plus – a family take on a big home improvement store such as Home Depot. Barb, his wife, was a substitute teacher. Their kids were wholesome (when their parents were looking), normal kids.

And then, in the house next door to Bill and Barb’s house lived Nicki with her two sons, who were also Bill’s two sons because Nicki was also his wife, although second in line behind Barb. Nicki was the queen of do-it-herself, fix-anything she can get her hands on, prairie-dress wearing, braid-down-her-back wife from the compound. She was one of many daughters of the prophet of Juniper Creek, Roman Grant. With Nicki and the Grants came boatloads of trouble.

And, finally, in the house next to Nicki lived sweet, innocent, always happy, always perky, Margene, Bill’s very young third wife who started out as a babysitter for his kids. Marge had two sons with Bill when we first met her; she would have one more – a girl – before the series ended.

It was quite a tribe to keep track of, and believe me, I haven’t even scraped the surface of minor, yet infinitely important characters. This show was so well done, though, that it was hard to get lost in all of the faces. The characters were so well drawn – Roman, Alby, and Adaleen Grant; Don Embry (Bill’s business partner and fellow polygamist); Hollis and Selma Greene (fundamental polygamists such as the Grants with very violent tendencies – a lot like the Grants); and a host of others who came and went through the three houses and the compound at Juniper Creek over the course of the last five years.

I loved this show. Last season (Season 4) wasn’t the best for me, but the other four, especially this last of the series were original in their conflicts and characters, plot lines and settings. Big Love is an unforgettable show about people trying to live the lives they believe they are destined to live.

The Henricksons – Bill, his three wives, and most of their children – believe in plural marriage. All three wives entered into it freely and their children were free to choose their own paths, if plural marriage wasn’t for them. (For some of them, it wasn’t.) The conflicts, crises, and celebrations that came about because of these unusual dynamics made me laugh, cry, rage, rant, and clap my hands. I felt I knew these people, and I cared about them as much as anyone can care about fictional characters. That’s what art does, right? It stirs something inside you.

Big Love also made me think about plural marriage and made me consider why it’s illegal. If you only look at the compounds (the Warren Jeffs of the real world), then you think – that’s horrible! But there are real polygamists in the world living as the Henricksons lived in Big Love. They live hidden in the open. But what I wonder is, why should they have to hide?

It’s not against the law for a man to marry a woman and have countless extramarital affairs with other women. It’s not illegal for him to father children with women who are not his wife. He will not face an indictment for those crimes – those are moral and ethical issues but they don’t make him a criminal.

So here’s what I don’t understand. Why is it illegal for a man to marry more than woman? I’m not saying I condone it, or that I’m a fan of it. But what I am saying is, it seems hypocritical for the affairs to be legal and the marriage to be illegal.

In Big Love’s case, Barb was willing to open her marriage to Bill to Nicki and then to Margene. Bill and Barb had ceremonies making the other two women part of their marriage. It was these ceremonies that broke the law. If Bill had simply built Nicki’s and Marge’s houses, moved them into the houses, fathered the children, provided for them financially and otherwise (as he did) but did all of that without a ceremony, the state would have had no problem with him.

The state also would have had no problem with him if he’d had affairs with Nicki and Marge and then forgot they existed.

How can this hypocrisy be acceptable? We have laws in place to protect children from abuse; we have laws in place to prevent human trafficking. These are the crimes Warren Jeffs was charged with. Why not go after him for that? Isn’t that plenty? Why does polygamy have to be a crime?

I know I’ve digressed, but I don’t really care. Big Love was a great show. I wanted one more season so badly, but the ending of the series was breath-taking. It tied things up so much better than I ever thought they would be able to do.

I own the first three seasons on DVD and will soon own the last of it as well. That way, Bill, Barb, Nicki, Margene, Alby, Roman, Lois, and Frank will never be that far away. And I know that they’ll continue to make me laugh and cry, rage and rant, and clap and gasp for years to come. Good TV never goes stale.

Obama has gone too far

2011-02-27T21:47:00.002-05:00

The Constitution of the United States established three branches to our government to ensure that none of them could usurp too much power. The Judiciary Branch is the branch vested with the power to decide whether any law or executive act is unconstitutional. That is not a power granted to the Executive Branch – the president.

Then what in the heck is President Obama doing, and why is he getting away with it?

On Feb. 23, he announced that he had instructed Attorney General Eric H. Holder, Jr., not to uphold the Defense of Marriage Act, that he was declaring it unconstitutional. The DOMA was signed into law in 1996 by President Clinton and denies federal recognition of same-sex marriages. Don’t get caught up in the politics of gay marriage and whether or not that should be legal. That’s a blog for another day.

Pay attention to what Obama is doing. He has picked and chosen a law that he believes to be unconstitutional, has declared it as such, and has instructed the Justice Department not to uphold it any longer.

That is not his right. That right belongs to the Judiciary Branch of our government.

Do you know what we call heads of government who unilaterally decide to ignore their established government foundations – especially those foundations that are rooted in democracy? What we call heads of government who unilaterally decide what laws to disregard, what laws to enforce, bypassing systems of checks and balances established to prevent that very thing happening?

We call them dictators.

What other law or laws do you suppose Obama will decide are unconstitutional? Term limits? The right to bear arms? The right to free speech? If he gets to pick and choose which laws are constitutional and which ones aren’t, then how are we supposed to feel secure in any of it?

Someone (besides this blogger) needs to stand up to him and say, “Mr. President, you’re out of line. You don’t have that right. Back off.”

Because what scares me is that if someone doesn’t do that soon, it may be too late.

Let 'em smoke outside in NYC - I'll move if I need to.

2011-02-23T22:50:00.003-05:00

I can’t stand cigarette smoke. I don’t like to be around people when they’re smoking. I don’t like the way it clings to my clothes or my hair when I’ve been somewhere smoky. And I hate what it does to the human body – how it opens the door wide open for the big “C.”

With that said, though, I think New York City has gone too far. As spring melts into summer this year, smokers in NYC will no longer be allowed to smoke outside in public places. They won’t be able to smoke in parks, public plazas, or on beaches. According to a recent article in the Atlanta Journal-Constitution, a citation for violating the new law will cost them $50.

A spokeswoman for the mayor’s office is quoted as saying, “There is a lot of public support for [the law].” Know how they figured that out? In a city the size of NYC – more than 8 million give or take a head or two – they called (on land lines) 1,002 residents and surveyed them on the topic. Of those surveyed, 65 percent supported a smoking ban such as the one that’s been signed into law. Go ahead, do the math with me. That means 650 people in New York City are in favor of this law.

Now, I know that if they had managed to survey every single person in the city, there would be many more than 650 people in favor of it. I get that. But did they really try and get a true sample of residents’ opinions?

The article goes on to say that the city has tried to curtail smoking by raising taxes on cigarettes to the point that a pack goes for at least $11. I don’t have a problem with that. As I mentioned, I hate cigarettes and their nasty byproduct (smoke). They kill you. Period. If you want to commit suicide slowly by smoking, then it doesn’t bother me if you have to pay $11 per pack to do it. Maybe, at that price, people might actually think twice before buying them and choose not to. That would be wonderful (for them and for those who love them and would like to have more time here on Earth with them).

But I digress a little. I have a problem with the government forbidding this act in public. Proponents of the law say that smoking isn’t a fundamental right and that the laws are enacted for the good of our public health, which the government is obligated to protect. But I’m not certain I need – or want – the government trying this hard to “protect” me. If I’m outside at a park or on a beach and someone lights up too close to me, guess what I do. I move. Wow, that’s hard. I don’t need the government babysitting me this much.

And here’s the really scary part of this. In 2007, Belmont, California, passed a law forbidding smoking in apartments and condominiums – in people’s homes. Since that law passed, many other California cities passed similar laws. According to CBS News, a law will soon be passed in Minneapolis that prohibits smoking in public places – even your own car.

Now, doesn’t that scare you a little? Smoking fan or foe, do you want the government’s fingers reaching that far into your private little corner of the world?

I don’t.

RIP Dear Coach and Friend

2011-02-13T21:20:00.002-05:00

On Thursday, I received an email from an old friend who had been fighting cancer (melanoma). I was on his prayer list and got status updates from him as he sent them out to keep us all posted on his treatment and recovery. Thursday’s update explained a recent emergency room visit he’d had to make but reassured us that he was home, and that Hospice was there only to help with his recovery. “Certainly do not look at this as a here today, gone tomorrow situation,” he wrote to us.

Saturday, two days later, he was gone.

Mike put up an inspirational fight. In all of the emails he sent out, he was positive and upbeat, regardless of the chemo he was enduring and the way it made him feel physically. He and his family shared this incredible faith and belief in the goodness of God, in His immeasurable wisdom, and they never seemed to worry. They amazed me through all of this.

When Donna, Mike’s wife, sent out the email telling us that Mike had passed away, she put in the subject line, “New bass in God’s choir of saints.” I know that heaven’s doors swung open wide for Mike, and I love picturing him singing in a heavenly choir because I can only imagine how happy he is there.

I’m writing this blog for two reasons. First of all, Mike was a friend. He was my high school volleyball coach, and he became a colleague and friend when I began teaching at my alma mater. I have known him and Donna for so many years, and he will be missed by many.

Secondly, Mike’s death brought home to me (again) how quickly our lives can end. I knew he was sick, but after Thursday’s email, I never expected to hear news of his passing this weekend. We need to remember that each day is a gift and to treat them as such. We hope for tomorrow, but we don’t always get it.

And finally, I wrote this blog also because of Mike’s life. He and Donna lived their faith. Their belief in God was evident in the grace with which they battled Mike’s cancer. They knew they could handle anything because they weren’t handling it alone – God was with them.

They have been reminders to me that God is with all of us, and I, for one, am so grateful to have Him in my life. I pray that as you read this, He is with you too.

Valentine's Day - to spend or not to spend?

2011-02-11T16:45:00.003-05:00

“How much are you going to spend to show your love this Valentine’s Day?” was the opening line of a story on the local news last night. I rewound the DVR to make sure I’d heard that right, and yep, that’s what she said. “How much are you going to spend to show your love?”

Hmmmm…..Really? That’s how we show our love? We spend? The news story went on to say that Americans as a whole spend $15 billion – yes, that’s right, billion with a “B”- on Valentine’s Day. The biggest chunk of that pile of Benjamins is spent on jewelry to the tune of $3.5 billion, with dining out running a close second at $3.4 billion. Flowers cost us $1.7 billion. It makes me wonder, how is the remaining $6.4 billion spent?

I admit to liking Valentine’s Day. My husband, in the past, has given me both flowers and jewelry, and I enjoyed receiving those gifts. Money is a little tight right now, but we are going to try and have dinner together out somewhere this Monday.

Do I doubt Terry’s love if I don’t receive flowers or jewelry on Valentine’s Day? Do I feel unloved if we don’t celebrate the day somehow together? Of course I don’t. Terry shows his love for me every day in so many ways – in his sense of humor, his patience, his consideration, his affection for Tori.

I got really irritated by that news story last night, and I think those ill feelings were the result of the way the anchor led us into the story, that whole “spend to show your love” comment. I thought – at first – how horrible that made us Americans sound. We spend billions to “show our love.”

Then I felt guilty after I got irritated because I’ve been the beneficiary of Valentine’s Day and enjoyed my gifts. Did that make me an Ugly American?

Nah.

Many of us are so busy that we don’t pay as much attention to our husbands, wives, significant others, as we should. Sometimes we let too much time go between the last time we said, “I love you,” and the next time we said those three important little words. Sometimes we don’t show the gratitude to our partners that we should for everything they bring to our lives. I think Valentine’s Day reminds us to do that. And, hopefully, it reminds us that we should try harder to keep those “Valentine’s Day” feelings alive and well throughout the year.

There’s nothing ugly about that at all.

The last figure that the news story presented was that the average American spends $116 on Valentine’s Day. If you divide $15 billion by $116, the number you get is approximately 129,310,345. There are about 300,000,000 people in our country, so that means that almost half of us are buying presents, and, hopefully, about half of us are then receiving those presents. Doesn’t this mean then that almost all of us are taking part in saying, “I love you,” to someone who probably ought to be hearing it? If those good feelings can carry over into the rest of the year for so many of us, then I am firmly in Cupid’s corner.

Tell the people you love how you feel about them on Monday. Then do it again on Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, … well, you get the idea.

Illegal immigrants are breaking the law

2011-02-06T23:25:00.003-05:00

Immigration laws are touchy subjects, I know, but I saw an article in Sunday’s South Bend Tribune about one being proposed for Indiana, so I decided to blog about it. Hopefully, there will be some discussions as a result.

According to the article, Sen. Mike Delph, R-Carmel, introduced Senate Bill 590, which bears a close resemblance to one passed in Arizona. For example, if someone is thought to have violated a law or ordinance and is apprehended (or stopped) by a police officer, and if then that police officer has probable cause to believe the person is an illegal immigrant, then the suspect would be required to produce proof of citizenship.

Those against the bill cry foul and say this is “racial profiling.” Delph counters that by saying the bill expressly forbids racially profiling.

The bill also would require the state to send an expense report to the federal government requesting reimbursement for illegal immigration costs to the state, it would prohibit state and local governments from corresponding in any language other than English, and it would increase penalties against businesses that employ illegal immigrants.

Some complaints that have arisen in opposition to the bill say that anyone not carrying proper papers could be in danger of being arrested under this bill. Some say that other more pressing types of crimes – such as robbery or domestic violence – could be ignored or at least may receive a delayed reaction because officers are trying to sort out one of these cases. Others complain that it is asking state and local law enforcement to enforce federal law.

Here are my thoughts:

First, regarding the proper papers, if you’re a legal citizen, it’s not difficult to get – at the bare minimum – an identification card. Most of us, I would bet, have driver’s licenses that you can’t get without proof of citizenship. What’s so wrong with asking those of us who are rightful, legal citizens to carry something around that proves we are? I know some might argue this is too “Big Brother-ish,” requiring us to “register.” But I already am registered by virtue of my license, and I don’t lose sleep over it. And here’s my other thought on this aspect of it. Have you ever traveled outside our country? I have. When you do, you are advised to carry on your person at all times proof of your citizenship (of your home country) as well as a legal document proving when you came into their country and when you are leaving (not to mention why you’re there in the first place).

My next thought has to do with the employers and the enforcement of the existing law. Somebody needs to start policing the laws already in existence making it illegal to employ people who have entered the country illegally. If we don’t crack down on the employers who give these people a paycheck every week, it’s never going to stop. It’s cheap labor – some may even say slave labor – and those employers who make a habit of employing illegal immigrants are not going to stop until they start suffering damages from it. If that means state and local governments have to help the federal government do its job, so be it.

In my positions as both a teacher and a news reporter, I have met and even come to know people who have come to our country illegally. I’ve been fond of many students in the past in that situation. On a personal level like that, it’s hard to think about denying them the same opportunities my daughter has. In my travels to Mexico, I’ve ridden through some of the “real” sections of the tourist towns. I’ve seen the shacks some of them live in. I’ve watched them carry bottles of water to their homes because the tap water in their homes isn’t safe for consumption. I understand the allure of America.

But I still have to insist, if you’re going to come here, please, do it legally.

There’s a contestant on American Idol this season - Melinda Ademi – who came here from Kosovo with her family. War raged in her country, and her parents feared for their lives. But they waited. They applied for green cards and finally won those green cards in a lottery. Their lives were literally at stake and they still did it right.

That’s all I’m asking. Why do some people make it sound like it’s so wrong to ask that those who come do it legally?

There are laws in this great country of ours that we all have to live by because we are citizens of this country. That’s where I get caught up – illegal immigrants want the benefits of citizenship but they start off their pursuit by breaking the law.

I empathize, I even sympathize with many of them. But that doesn’t change the fact that the law is the law. I was born here and I have to obey the laws. Shouldn’t everyone?

For my husband

2011-01-30T23:23:00.002-05:00

I have discovered a comfort in knowing that my husband is my best friend. He loves me absolutely and unconditionally, and that is a gift that should never be underestimated nor devalued. He knows everything about me, and he accepts me for who I am. No, he doesn’t just accept me – he likes me, respects me, and continues to choose to spend his life with me.

Terry and I have had some difficult times in our relatively short time together. But he never gave up on us. He never stopped loving me. He never stopped wanting me in his life. He threw me the rope that I chose to grasp onto.

I think it’s important for your spouse to be your best friend. I didn’t really “get” that for a long time. Now I do. Terry’s fun to hang out with. He’s generous and kind, and he’s got a great sense of humor. We have compatible – not identical, but compatible – tastes in TV shows, movies, music, and books, which give us fun things to do together and to talk about. Sometimes our politics mesh and sometimes they don’t, but that’s good for conversation too. He sounds like a friend, doesn’t he?

For a long time, I think I saw “husband” and “friend” as two separate entities. I just didn’t understand how many things are less difficult when you let your husband be your friend too. Terry’s my best friend, and, on top of that, he’s the love of my life.

When I see him walk in the door at the end of a day, or when my feet are resting in his lap at the other end of the couch; when he’s driving Tori and me to a school function or just to the mall, or when he’s teasing my mom, listening to my dad, or playing with my nephew, I see the man I said “yes” to five years ago. I see the man I love so much more today than I did even then. And I see the man that I want sitting beside me on our front porch when we’re retired and waiting on grandkids to visit.

I’m grateful. I’m blessed. I’m Terry’s wife, and I’m happy to say it.

"The Cove" will change the way you see dolphins forever.

2011-01-27T14:30:00.004-05:00

There is footage in The Cove, the 2010 Oscar winner for Best Documentary, of a lagoon turning red with blood as dolphins are slaughtered. As I watched it, I thought about other movies I’d seen where seas bled and felt horrified as I reminded myself that this wasn’t being done with special effects – real blood turned that ocean red. Real animals were being slaughtered.

In Taiji, Japan, 23,000 dolphins are still slaughtered every year.

Why? Partly for money, but partly, some think, simply because they can. Because there is a national sense of pride – for those engaged in this enterprise – that they are doing something the West doesn’t want them to do. And they hide these activities with the help of corrupt police officers, politicians, and fishermen.

The filmmakers and the crew of The Cove had to enlist the expertise of former U.S. military personnel to infiltrate the forbidden area around the cove where the slaughters take place. They hired professional Hollywood prop makers to create “rocks” which hid high-definition cameras that the crew placed around the cove – risking personal safety under the cover of night – so that footage of the slaughters could be recorded. Award-winning free divers who have been fortunate enough to swim with dolphins in their natural habitat signed on to the mission and placed underwater sound devices in the cove, enabling us to hear the last cries of the dolphins.

Every dolphin show, dolphin encounter, and dolphinarium (did you know that was a word?) has to get their dolphins from somewhere. Many – if not most – of them get them from Taiji. The dolphins are herded into a lagoon from the ocean by scaring them with loud, clanging noises. From that lagoon, dolphin trainers come to pick out the ones they want and pay as much as $150,000 or more for each one. The rest are then herded into the cove, which is hidden from view, and slaughtered. The dead ones are sold for their meat for about $600 each.

Dolphin meat is very high in mercury. Food safety commissions recommend no more than 4 ppm (parts per million) of mercury in any serving of food. Dolphin meat from Taiji registers as high as 2,000 ppm. Who eats it? Many people (most of whom are Japanese, it would appear from the film) who purchase what they believe to be whale meat are actually buying dolphin meat. How is this allowed? Well, dolphins are little whales. Did you know that? I didn’t.

Most Japanese citizens don’t know about the slaughters in Taiji. When interviewed on the streets of Osaka, Kyoto, and Tokyo, the citizens were shocked when told about the killing and the selling of the meat. They said it needed to stop. Ironically, at the end of the film, it is revealed that Hideki Moronuki, the man who was the chief of whaling for the Japanese Fisheries Agency had mercury poisoning.

Dolphins are amazing, beautiful, highly intelligent creatures. No one knows this better than Richard (Ric) O’Barry, the man who trained five dolphins in the 1960s to play the part of “Flipper” in the television show of the same name. “Flipper,” O’Barry feels, is one of the biggest reasons that dolphin shows and experiences are as popular and widespread as they are today. And no one regrets that now more than the man himself.

“I spent ten years building that industry up [i.e. capturing and training dolphins],” O’Barry says in the film, “and I spent the last thirty-five years trying to tear it down.”

After watching The Cove, I want to help him. I challenge you to do the same: Watch the movie (I did an instant view on Netflix) and then figure out a way to help him stop the slaughter.

For more information on the movie, click here or on my link above. For more general information, visit The Cove on Facebook, or the Save Japan Dolphins coalition.

"Skins" - (sigh) more teen sex on TV

2011-01-25T15:33:00.008-05:00

There has been a lot in the news lately about an American version of a British (scripted – not reality) show aimed at teenagers called “Skins.” It’s been on the air for two weeks with original presentations of new episodes aired on MTV on Monday nights at 10 p.m.

I first heard about “Skins” when I read an article this weekend in The New York Times that focused on whether or not the show – which shoots in Canada – crosses the line into child pornography. Evidently there was concern about Episode 3, which airs Jan. 31, which allegedly revealed teenagers in situations that could be considered pornographic. Many of the cast members of the scripted show are 18 years old, but some are only 17; one is as young as 15.

I wanted to watch the show before I commented on it, and I’ve now seen the first two episodes. It centers on a group of friends who seem to care about little else than sex, drugs, and drinking, all of which they engage in as often as they can – which includes school too. Most of the adults in the show are flawed, foolish caricatures of the stereotypical adults who inhabit the lives of urban teenagers.

MTV is losing sponsors for the show. Different news agencies report that Subway, GM, H&R Block, Wrigley, and Taco Bell have pulled their support because of pressure from the Parents Television Council. (H&R Block reps stated they never intended to sponsor the show in the first place, and their ads that ran during the first episode were mistakenly aired.)

My opinion on the show? It’s another vehicle to show teens gratuitous sex, as well as drug and alcohol abuse. The acting is dreadful. But what am I saying that’s new here? In other words, what is MTV doing that’s new here”? Television shows and movies that cater to teenage audiences often have sex, drugs, and alcohol as part of the content, if not at the center of it. “Gossip Girl,” anyone? “The Secret Life of the American Teenager?” Even the much-lauded, fun-to-sing-along-with “Glee” series has its share of teen sex scenes and issues. It’s out there, and that, I think is what I’m weary of.

There’s. So. Much. Of. It.

Did you think about sex when you were in middle school? I did. I’d bet you did too. It’s not a surprise, nor is it unusual (or even unhealthy) that our kids who are middle schoolers today think about it too. The thing is, there is so much out there on television – cable or network – that is available to them that shows them what it looks like to have sex – all kinds of sex. There’s so much out there that shows young teens drinking and doing drugs. Do all of these visuals egg our young teens on when it comes to engaging in activities that they really shouldn’t engage in? Do these images make those activities look so fun, so glamorous, and so cool, that they become irresistible?

I also wonder about what the younger teens are reading on their older friends’ Facebook and MySpace pages. When they read about older kids partying and having sex, does that make them want to do it more because they want to be older?

I’ve posed a lot of questions, I know. Here’s how I think I would answer them. I do think there is too much sex on TV – especially that which is aimed at our kids. I can’t change that, and honestly, I don’t want to be in the business of censoring what gets made.

What I do believe in is censoring what my kid sees and is exposed to in the home. My daughter is 17, so boundaries have grown and changed as she has, as I believe they should. But when she was in middle school and wanted to read the Gossip Girl series because her friends were reading it, I said no. She’s never read it. She didn’t watch the show when it came on TV.

The other thing I believe we can do at home to help offset our kids’ exposure to sex, etc., in the media is to talk to them – a lot – about all of these issues. They have to know they can come to us with questions. We have to be willing to ask questions of them and to do what we can to ensure we’re getting the whole story – the real truth in their answers. I’ve said it before – we have to be involved.

MTV defends its production and airing of “Skins,” saying they closely monitor each episode and the manner in which the issues are handled. They say they’re covered because the show is labeled “TV-MA” and never airs before 10 p.m. This label and this time-frame are supposed to keep young kids from watching the show. Yeah, right. My students are up until after midnight texting each other. Many of them have TVs in their rooms, as well as computers. (“Skins” episodes can be seen in their entirety on MTV’s website. All you have to do is tell the computer you’re 18 or older.) If they want to watch the show, MTV has done nothing to ensure they can’t watch it.

That job is ours.

Prescription drug research is not new for Uncle Sam

2011-01-23T20:32:00.004-05:00

Have you read the article in The New York Times about the “new” institute Obama and the federal government have created called the National Center for Advancing Translational Sciences? It’s going to have a $1 billion budget its first year of operation, and its reason for being is that private drug companies aren’t coming up with new prescription drugs fast enough, so the government wants this institute to do that.

This is a very complicated subject; one that I’m sure I won’t do justice to because the levels of it are almost unfathomable. However, there are a few things I know, a few things that made me go, “Huh?” when I read the story in the Times, and I will share those things with you.

First of all, it’s important to know that the National Institute of Health had a budget in 2010 of $31.2 billion. Almost all of that money – about 90 percent – is spent on basic science research in the form of grants to institutions of higher learning and its own labs in Bethesda. What is basic science? Basic science means finding the connection between A and B. It means identifying a single protein on a single gene. Why identify the protein? The hope is that with the protein identified, an enzyme produced by that protein will also be identified and then tied to some disease or another.

All of that research takes a long time (and millions and millions of dollars), and private companies generally don’t take part in it. What they do is they wait until something is discovered (by a federally funded institution) and then one way or another they get a hold of the research – through less than honorable means because the researcher didn’t patent his discovery in time, or they bring the researcher on board, enticing him away from academia. Either way, the private company makes use of the millions of dollars the federal government has invested.

My first point being, this announcement of this new center makes it sound as though Obama’s administration is just now getting involved in the research for and manufacturing of prescription drugs. That is soooooo not the case. The federal government has been funding drug research for more than 80 years.

My second point has to do with genetic patents. When the Human Genome Project revealed the sequencing of our DNA, there was a gold rush by many private companies to identify and then patent genes (there are 30,000 of them) as well as the proteins produced by the genes (there are about 300,000 of those). These patents were issued – by the FDA – without anyone knowing really what any of those genes and proteins did. It was simply, “I found it. I claim it. Because, by God, if there’s any money to be made off of it, I want my chunk.” Well, those patents last 20 years.

New drugs can’t be discovered before the basic science of the genes and proteins are understood. Who owns a bulk of the patents that have been issued? Private companies. Who does (or funds) the majority of the basic science behind new drugs? You do. I do. The federal government does. Are they talking to each other? They don’t like to.

My last point, which I guess just sums up what I’ve been talking about, is that this new center (IMHO) isn’t needed. In order to get this center up and running by October, one of NIH’s existing institutions has to be eliminated. The government is aiming that arrow at the National Center for Research Resources. Over 1,000 people have commented on a complaint blog about this closure, and many (if not most) of them are doctors and researchers who have benefited from grants issued by the NCRR and who wish for their research to continue, even if the NCRR is dismantled. The NCRR’s annual budget for 2010 was $1.308 billion. The administration plans to transfer some of its functions to the new center. Does that mean some of its budget will go to the new center as well? Will we continue to fund the research being done by the NCRR to the tune of $1 billion-plus as well as the new $1 billion budget for the new center?

My biggest problem with the whole thing is that Obama’s administration is putting this new center out there as something that’s never been done before – the government’s finally getting into the search for new prescription drugs! – and that’s malarkey. I’m also confounded by what is actually going to take place at this new center. And I’m fearful that it’s just more money being taken from our pockets to fund things already being done, to pay people to do jobs other people are doing. More government, but nothing more to show for it.

I learned a lot about this from reading a book for my freelance job called The $800 Million Pill. If you’re interested in learning more about how private drug companies benefit from publically-funded research, about how it’s another bit of malarkey when the drug companies tell you they have to charge excessive amounts of money for their medicines to help fund further research, pick up that book. It’s very scientifically written, but it’s an eye-opener.

Julian Hurley shouldn't have died.

2011-01-19T22:48:00.002-05:00

WARNING: Rant ahead! I don’t intend to be politically correct or worry about people’s feelings. I’m getting on a soapbox.

In my job, I come across children every now and then who seem to belong to parents who really don’t want the job they signed up for when Tab A inserted itself into Slot B and a zygote resulted. Being a parent comes with multiple responsibilities, none of which require you to be your child’s friend.

Some of us are blessed with amazing relationships with our kids, but those relationships did not grow as a result of being friends. They grew because we taught them values, accountability, and respect. They grew because we let them know we believe in them, because we support them, because they know we have expectations for them and want them to have expectations and goals for themselves. They grew because we covered all of it in love – love when they’re adorable and sweet, and love when they’re difficult and challenging. We are the constants in their lives. They have to know we’re there, that every day we are going to show up for work – the work of being their mom or their dad.

We need to be involved. We need to put our kids first because that’s what the job requires. We need to know who their friends are, where they are spending their time, if they’re doing their homework, and if they’re not – why aren’t they? We need to just plain talk to them – make sure we know them as people. What are their hopes, their dreams, their fears? We need to offer guidance and strength, discipline and boundaries. And we need to be people our kids can look up to - people they want to emulate. We need to live good lives.

We don’t get a do-over when it comes to raising our kids, just ask Rhonda Hurley.

Hurley was released from the LaPorte County Jail on Monday – too late to save the life of her 4-year-old son, Julian. When she went to jail in September for welfare fraud, she left her 7-year-old son and Julian in the care of Jimmy Isbell, a man she said she’d known for twenty years. According to police, it appears as though Isbell had been abusing Julian for days – beating the little boy with his hands and his belt – until Julian died from his injuries on Friday. The older brother has been placed in a foster home. The oldest of Hurley son’s – an 8-year-old – lives with his father.

Hurley has told reporters she feels horrible. Julian’s grandmother is heartbroken. Yeah, I’m sure they are. The death of a child always makes us sad.

But what about a child’s life? Why didn’t the life that Julian was living – being forced to live because of the actions of his mother – make anybody sad enough to do something when it could have made a difference for that little boy?

Our children are our greatest gifts and responsibilities – for as long as our lungs breathe the God-given air. If you don’t know who your children’s friends are – find out. If you don’t know where your children are spending their time – find out. If your child is struggling in school, talk to them, to us at the school, about it.

Learn the word “no.” They don’t have to have everything they ask for. They don’t need to get to do everything they want to. “No” isn’t always easy, but sometimes it’s essential.

And for your children’s sake, if you’re doing something that could get you thrown in jail, stop it. Your kids need you – in every sense of the word – whether they’ll admit or not.

God knows, Julian Hurley deserved much better than he got in his four brief years on Earth.

Olive Kitteridge: Pulitzer Prize winner yes, but not my favorite book

2011-01-17T22:55:00.003-05:00

There are lots of reasons that cause me to pick up a book to read – probably many are the same reasons you choose one book over another, why one continually draws you into the bookstore, your fingers tracing the title on the spine, yet you leave it languishing on the shelf as some newer title calls to you. Maybe you think, as I do, “I’ll come back to you, I promise, but I HAVE to read this other one NOW.” (If you ever see me talking to myself in Barnes & Noble, this is the conversation I’m having . I’m not trying to dissuade the aliens from beaming me up – I promise.)

This tug-of-war is what happened with me and Olive Kitteridge by Elizabeth Strout. Published more than two years ago – going on three now, actually – I read a review when it was released and thought it sounded intriguing. I’d never heard of Strout. (Make of that what you will – she won a Pulitzer for Olive Kitteridge.) Maybe my unfamiliarity with her work made it easier for me to ignore Olive when new books by some of my favorite authors called to me. I know there were multiple times that I had Olive in my hands – and in my cart at Amazon – but failed to purchase it. Until I got my Kindle. The Kindle version is very reasonably priced, so I figured if I didn’t like the book, or Strout’s style, I wasn’t out the price of a traditional book. If Olive turned out to be one I wanted to hold onto, I’d go ahead and buy a hard copy after finishing the Kindle version.

Well, I’m not buying the hard copy.

That’s not to say I didn’t like the book. Overall, I guess I did. Olive Kitteridge was a well-constructed, cantankerous character that I won’t soon forget. At times I pitied those around her who were subject to her insensitivities, but more often than not, I pitied her.

What I wish I had known before I read the book is that many of the chapters in it were previously published as short stories. Had I known that, I would have been less surprised (and aggravated) when characters were introduced for a chapter and then never heard from again. I like books that have characters that I feel as if I know personally, characters that I miss when I finish the book. How can you get to know someone in a single chapter? The answer is – at least for me – I can’t.

All of the stories/chapters in the book are connected through Olive, which is a cool vehicle for the story. I just wish that I had gotten to spend more time with some of the minor characters, and maybe not gotten to know some of the others at all. Olive is basically the same brusque, cold woman regardless of whom she’s interacting with. I did appreciate the difficulties she struggled with inside herself. I pitied her when she felt abandoned by her son, yet angry at her when she wasted her husband’s love. I’ll remember Olive. But that’s about all I’m taking with me from this book.

Many criticisms of the book describe the literary value of Strout’s style and how well she explores human themes throughout all of the stories, even if they’re brief explorations of those themes of loss, grief, love, desire. I agree. She does that well. That’s just not why I tend to pick up a book and read it for pleasure.

So, now you know what you’re getting into if you pick up Olive Kitteridge. If you do read it, or if you have read it, I’d love to hear your take on it. I feel like a numbskull saying I’m disappointed in a Pulitzer Prize winning novel. But darn it, I really was.

Preventing teen pregnancies - by paying them?

2011-01-14T23:04:00.002-05:00

So, if Tori had an older sister who’d gotten pregnant as a teenager, I wouldn’t have to worry so much about how to fund her college education. There’s a program for that. It’s called College Bound Sisters, and the program pays its participants seven dollars a week (plus another five dollars a week for transportation costs) to attend a meeting – providing, of course, they show up unfertilized.

Girls can begin attending when they’re twelve years old and can remain part of the program until they graduate from high school. Using simple math, if a girl begins in the program as a 12-year-old preteen, she’ll be earning $364 each year which totals (by graduation) somewhere between $2,100 and $2,500, depending on when her birthday falls. If she makes it to graduation without getting pregnant – successful completion of the program – then College Bound Sisters doubles the amount in her account for her to use toward college expenses. That’s not chump change, and I’m not even factoring in the $5 weekly allowance for transportation.

This is a North Carolina program and is funded by a grant from that state’s Department of Health and Human Services as well as anonymous donors (according to their website). I suppose there’s an argument somewhere in here about spending tax dollars in prevention of pregnancy versus care for dependent children. However, I’m not going to delve into that muddy pit.

My interests – concerns – lie elsewhere.

As my peers and I discussed during our lunch today (because of a video on Channel One), no one paid us not to get pregnant when we were teenagers. Our mothers put the fear of God in us, and believe me, there was no money changing hands.

Why is money the only way to motivate these girls into wanting more for themselves, into wanting to make a better life than their sisters are living? Why isn’t it possible to teach them about character and values?

I’m not naïve. I teach teenagers and I know they’re having sex – much younger than you would probably believe. It’s scary as hell. But I still don’t believe bribing them is the answer. They should want to have protected sex – if they can’t or won’t abstain – because it’s the best choice for them and their future children. Using birth control should not have a paycheck attached to it.

There has to be a better way.

AWOL on the Appalachian Trail - Book Review

2011-01-09T14:38:00.004-05:00

There’s a great little store in Gatlinburg, Tennessee, called The Day Hiker. It’s in the middle of the Parkway, in a conglomeration of stores called The Village Shops. Tori and I like to visit it each time we’re in the Smokies because they have the best assortment of hiking-oriented T-shirts. (They also stock a lot of good hiking gear.) One of our favorite tees has, as its message, “I’ve hiked the entire width of the Appalachian Trail.” We haven’t bought that one yet, but I have a feeling we will one of these days. It makes us giggle.

Laughter aside, though, hiking the AT is something I’ve wondered about for several years – basically for as long as Tori and I have been visiting the Great Smoky Mountain National Park and hiked many of its trails. We’ve bumped up against it on some of our hikes and exchanged fleeting comments like, “We should do that one of these days.” Yeah, we should. Or should we?

The AT is more than 2,170 miles long, with its end points at Springer Mountain in Georgia and Katahdin in Maine. It touches fourteen states and climbs as high as 6,625 feet at Clingmans Dome in Tennessee. According to The Appalachian Trail Conservancy, it takes 5 million footsteps and anywhere from five to seven months to complete a thru-hike. Imagine that – five to seven months basically on your own in the wilderness.

Last night I finished AWOL on the Appalachian Trail by David Miller, a man who completed a thru-hike of the AT in less than five months in 2003. He was in a job that didn’t satisfy him, so he walked away from it – with the consent of what I consider his saintly wife – and headed north from Georgia. His book about his adventure is mesmerizing. I don’t know if you have to be a fan of hiking to enjoy it or not, because I happen to be one. What I do know is that Miller does a phenomenal job of taking his readers on a virtual hike of the AT.

Through his descriptions of the trail and his willingness to share his personal thoughts, dreams, disappointments, and his longing at times for his wife and his children, he provides what has to be an incredibly accurate depiction of what it’s like to undertake a thru-hike. He encounters more than 20 bears, countless snakes, and at least one moose. His knee gives him trouble in the beginning, a blister on his foot becomes infected and costs him a few days off the trail, and he sprains his ankle, which costs him another several more “zero” days off the AT.

But he enjoys the solitude, the sights that he sees as he walks, and he allows the experience to settle inside him. Along the way he befriends many other thru-hikers and enjoys getting to know them and bumping into them again and again as they make their individual ways along the trail. Miller describes “trail magic” and is the beneficiary of it many times along the trail. Now that I understand what it is, I’m going to be sure and pack some extra goodies in our cooler when we head out again to Newfound Gap or Clingmans Dome. Maybe we’ll get to meet and talk to one of these intriguing people who commit themselves to this endeavor.

As for me, I don’t know if I could ever be a true thru-hiker. I don’t know if I could really cut myself off from my family – my life – for that long. I don’t know if I could get used to going for days and days without a shower. But I’d like to leave it open as a possibility. Maybe I’ll be a section hiker – cut the AT into pieces and hike it over the course of a number of visits and many years. I think I could picture myself doing that.

I also know that I’m grateful the Appalachian Trail exists and that people are still dedicated to taking care of it. I’ll leave you with one of my favorite quotes from Miller’s book: “We spend an inordinate amount of time indoors, and the physical confinement limits the metaphorical bubble of our aspirations. Large rooms, like the vaulted interior of a church, are uplifting. Outdoors, we are free to reach for the sky.”

I intend to keep reaching.

I like my Kindle - What's up with that?

2011-01-03T15:57:00.003-05:00

My husband dragged me, kicking and screaming, into the eReader era and bought me a Kindle for Christmas. When he told me about two weeks before Christmas that he'd bought me a gift I wasn't going to like when I opened it but that I would come to love it, I knew what he'd done. And, a week after opening the gift, I can tell you he was pretty much right.

If you've read my profile, or you know anything about me at all, you know that I aspire to publish a book some day. I've written two (that are now collecting dust in a box somewhere in my house), and I'm about a third of the way through my third. This newest one has a lot of promise – I have an agent that wants to read it when it's done – so believe me, I want people to continue to buy traditionally-bound books. I want to walk into a bookstore and see my book on a shelf for sale.

But it's more than this narcissistic side of me that was reticent to try an eReader. I'm a book lover. I like to have them around. I like to see them on my shelves – old friends that I loved spending time with and may visit again and new ones that I can't wait to get to know. I like their weight in my hands, turning pages in anticipation of what will happen next. That part of me won't go away and won't stop buying books. (In fact, I bought two over Christmas break – Joe's Hill's 20th CENTURY GHOSTS, and Christopher Moore's FOOL: A NOVEL.)

In addition to those two trade paperbacks, though, I also bought three eBooks: MOONLIGHT MILE by Dennis Lehane, AWOL ON THE APPALACHIAN TRAIL by David Miller, and OLIVE KITTERIDGE by Elizabeth Strout. MOONLIGHT MILE was the first one I tried on my Kindle, and I read it in a few days over break (review forthcoming). At first, the device felt like an alien in my hands. My memories, however, locked on quickly to the continuation of the Amanda McCready story – I had missed Patrick and Angie tremendously – so that part of the experience felt familiar and good. But what was this piece of hardware in my hands? What was up with turning pages by clicking a button? It was truly a strange experience, reading with my Kindle. And then, without even my own realization, it wasn't anymore.

Somewhere between learning that Patrick and Angie now have a daughter and that Amanda McCready went missing again, (remember – review forthcoming) I forgot that I was reading with a Kindle and simply READ. The device became insignificant in terms of enjoying the book. I was reading a good book, and, as usual with a good book, I got lost in the story, the characters came alive, and I sighed when it was over, just as I would have if I had been holding a book in my hands. I wanted more, but even the Kindle couldn't do that kind of magic for me.

When it's all said and done, really, isn't that what we as authors and readers hope for – a story that leaves the audience wanting just a little bit more? So, I'm going to keep writing and just count myself blessed if I ever have to wonder which format of my book will sell best - the electronic one, or the hardback. I doubt that I'll care.

Celebrating Tori's 17th Birthday

2010-12-29T17:06:00.004-05:00

In a few days – three, to be exact – I get to celebrate my daughter’s seventeenth birthday. I don’t know where the time has gone. I can’t believe that seventeen years ago I could still feel her kick inside me. Seventeen years – it sounds like such a long time and yet it feels like yesterday.

I remember her as that tiny baby who didn’t even fill my arms when we brought her home. I remember her as a toddler running through my parents’ house , walking underneath their kitchen table without needing to stoop to do so, sitting in my dad’s recliner with him as he ever-so-patiently taught her her colors and how to write her name, and I remember her playing in the yard with my mom as Mom tended her flowers.

Then she went to school. I can still see her standing outside the school door, the first day of kindergarten, her face pressed up to the glass, hands beside her head, as she peered in, trying to see what lay before her on that monumental day.

Tori’s life has filled mine with more laughter and love than I have the capacity to convey. I love being her mom, sharing her life, more than I can tell you. I lament, sometimes, how fast the years seem to go. It won’t be long, now, before she’ll be out on her own, at college, really, truly making her own way. It will be here before I can blink.

I know that anyone reading this who is a parent can relate to what I’m saying. The love we have for our children is like no other love in the world. I try to remind myself to hug Tori as often I can, to tell her that I love her whenever I’m thinking it, because we all know that we never know what lies ahead through the next door, or down the next mile of the highway.

Two days ago, two young women from our town were in a horrible car accident. One of them, a freshman in college, died. The other, a junior in Tori’s class, is still in the hospital, but she will recover – physically – from her injuries. We pray that God will help her recover completely. No one could have predicted this tragedy. I’m sure that neither set of parents, when they said goodbye to their daughter that day before the wreck, knew what the day would hold for them.

Ali’s parents will never plan another birthday party for their daughter, as Tori and I have been doing these last couple days. The pictures and memories they have of Ali are all they will ever have, and my heart breaks for them and all they have lost.

God truly blessed me when he gave Tori to me. I pray every day that He will guide me and help me do the best job I can with her, and that He will always be with her, no matter what. Because I can’t be. Because really sad things happen when you least expect them. Because if God is with us, we are never truly lost.

I am grateful for every single hour I get to spend with my daughter, and I’m excited about the rest of her life, about seeing what she does with it, who she is going to become. She’s going to do great things because that’s who she is, and she makes me so proud.

When Tori told me today, all excited about her upcoming party, “I love my birthday!” all I could do was hug her and say, “Me too.”

Love you, Dixie

2010-12-13T20:09:00.001-05:00

Dixie was a purebred German shorthair, but she never put on airs. She was just everyday folk, and she was a beloved member of our family for sixteen years. Today, she went to sleep, and I pray that when she woke up in her heaven, it was a field filled with critters to chase, places to investigate, and that her body felt as young and limber as it did so many years ago here with us.

There’s so much I could tell you about Dixie. I could tell you how it always made Mom and me smile when we’d watch Dad leave the house in the pickup, Dixie sitting on the bench seat beside him, their two heads close enough together that Mom and I were certain they were sharing secrets known only to them.

I could tell you about the way Dixie liked to cuddle down on her bed at night with her bear – a stuffed animal Mom would buy for Dixie each Christmas. (But if Mom bought one with a squeaker in it, she’d have to operate on the toy and remove the noisemaker before giving it to Dixie because Dix never liked to think she was hurting the toy when she carried it in her mouth.)

I could tell you about sitting at the kitchen table, enjoying a meal with the family, and feeling Dixie’s gentle nudge on my leg with her nose, her soulful, big brown eyes begging for a taste of just about anything on my plate. She was rarely refused. And I should also tell you that the nudge came as she stretched her neck into the kitchen from the back porch, where her (back) feet stayed planted. She knew her place, but she also knew how much she was loved, and how much she could get away with because of it. She enjoyed many delectable bits from many, many dinners, and often she enjoyed her own scrambled egg in the morning, courtesy of Mom.

I could tell you about how she shadowed my dad wherever he went outside. As soon as that back porch door swung open to greet the day, Dixie was out and trotting towards the barn, checking everything out as she went, making sure everything was ok before Dad got there. She would – as I already mentioned – ride in the pickup with Dad, trot along beside the tractor wherever that tractor might be going, or walk with Mom and Dad (and us kids) whenever we had places to explore on the farm.

I could tell you she was the best dog ever, and she was. (You might argue, if you have a best friend of the four-legged variety living with you.) But what I really want to tell you is that we lost a member of our family today, and that we’re grateful we got to spend so many years with an amazing dog named Dixie.

3OH!3 in Indianapolis - fun party!

2010-11-02T20:11:00.003-04:00

3OH!3 threw a house party in the Egyptian Room at the Old National Centre in Indianapolis Monday night. Although the room wasn’t packed, the several hundred who were there did their best to bring the house down as they jumped and sang all through the band’s hour-plus set.

Sean Foreman and Nat Motte – the duo who are 3OH!3 – have said more than once that they want their music and their performances to be fun more than anything else. With lyrics about parties, drinking, rebellion, and sex, it’s probably not necessary to actually make that statement. Regardless, the audience did have fun, mirroring the group’s tremendous energy, shaking the floor under their feet as they bounced to the hip-hop mixes.

On tour to promote their new album, Streets of Gold, 3OH!3 borrowed heavily from that disc for their performance. Opening with “Beaumount,” then sliding right into “I can do anything,” they got the crowd ready for many of their new singles.

Highlights of the set included “Touchin on my,” “I know how to say,” and “My first kiss,” the single that features Ke$ha on the disc. Before they performed “House party,” Nat told the crowd he’d been to a house party in Indy – Bridgewater, to be specific – one night after watching the Indy 500. The crowd loved the anecdote, jumping even more through that song, screaming the lyrics back to the band.

The duo wound up their first set with the title track from the new CD and walked off the stage still singing “Streets of gold.” Returning to the stage for their encore, they played “Love 2012,” a song they had played live only once before – Sunday night in Kentucky. With a slower groove, the song didn’t generate as much energy as earlier performances, although the crowd did seem to enjoy it.

What the audience loved, though, were a couple spoofs the band played next – one of them set to the score for Jurassic Park. As mentioned earlier, 3OH!3 is all about the fun and provided a lot of it, including performances at the end of the show of two fan favorites, “Double vision” and the single that really launched the group, “Don’t trust me.”

After telling everyone to “Shush girl, shut your lips, do the Helen Keller, and talk with your hips,” Nat and Sean jumped off the stage and walked through the crowd as they headed backstage, getting up close and personal with some of their fans.

Although the fun ended when 3OH!3 left the stage, it didn’t start with them. Three opening acts took the stage before the headliners, including Neon Hitch, Down with Webster, and Hellogoodbye. Down with Webster, a Canadian hip-hop group impressed the crowd and channeled their inner Eminem with “Whoa is Me,” while Hellogoodbye broke out the ukulele and sent happy vibes into the crowd.

Visit the country of Panem - and be grateful you can leave!

2010-10-22T22:51:00.004-04:00

Every summer, I try and read as many of the Young Hoosier Book Award Nominees as I can. There are always 20 of them, and they are usually entertaining, sometimes thought-provoking books. I read them to try and stay at least somewhat current with what my students are reading.

This year, THE HUNGER GAMES is on the list. Published in 2008, I'd never heard of it until I saw it on the list. I didn't get to it over the summer. I might not have gotten to it at all - shame on me! - if my teacher's assistant (who's a freshman) hadn't raved about it and told me I HAD to read it. She was right.

THE HUNGER GAMES is the first in a sci-fi/fantasy trilogy that is so well-written, and so feasible that I didn't want to put any of them down once I'd started them. The concept behind them is so original, the characters so well drawn, the suspense palpable enough to turn the pages itself, that I seriously cannot recommend these books highly enough.

The gist of the story is this: At some point in the not-so-distant future, North America is ravaged by storms, droughts, and fires, and the oceans steal much of our coastal regions. Wars erupt in an effort to survive, and out of the wars comes Panem, a country of thirteen districts ruled by the Capitol. For a while, there is peace, until the Dark Days come and the districts rebel against the Capital. District 13 is destroyed in the rebellion, which the Capitol eventually squashes, and the remaining twelve districts exist at the mercy of the Capitol.

As a reminder to the districts that they must never try and rebel again, the Capitol institutes the annual Hunger Games. For these games, each district must offer up one girl and one boy, between the ages of twelve and eighteen, as tributes. The 24 tributes are taken to an arena chosen by the Capitol - it could be a desert, or a glacier, or a mountain range, or anything else imaginable - and there, they fight to the death. The one tribute who survives is the winner.

Suzanne Collins created not only action-packed, suspenseful stories, she created psychological studies of us as humans. What would you do to survive? What would you do to keep those you love alive? And how do you live with yourself when it's all over?

I've told my classes about the books, but I decided that wasn't enough. I'm reading THE HUNGER GAMES to them. Some of them can't wait on me to finish. They're clamoring to the library for copies of their own. Our librarian is stopping at Barnes & Noble this weekend to buy more copies.

Yes, those books are really that good. Read them.

What happens when we live in fear?

2010-10-02T21:51:00.006-04:00

I've had a few discussions in the last couple weeks with my eighth graders about Muslims. The first one came about because someone brought up the proposed mosque near Ground Zero. There was a variety of opinions, all over the spectrum. The scary ones were the ones who said we should let them build the mosque and then blow it up, or we should "round up" all of the Muslims and "send them back where they came from." I tried my best to counter those views, and I was heartened when other students seconded my opinion, but I knew I didn't (really) change any of their minds.

The topic came up again on Friday because we were getting ready to read a piece of a memoir written by a woman who was second-generation Japanese and who was sent with her family to one the internment camps we had in our country during World War II. I spent quite a bit of time describing those camps to the kids, many of whom hadn't known they'd ever existed. I drew the lines connecting our internment camps and Hitler's concentration camps, focusing on the fact that the people we put into them were rounded up solely because of their ethnicity.

For the most part, the kids were taken aback to learn about these camps. For the most part, they thought it was horrible that Japanese Americans were robbed of their civil liberties simply because they were Japanese. I took advantage of those feelings to bring up the conversation we'd had before about the Muslims, to remind them about those who'd said we should do to the Muslims what we'd done to the Japanese, what Hitler had done to the Jews. I was hoping I'd see light bulbs go on and that they'd realize this wasn't a road our country should go down again - that we should never cast a net wide enough to catch an entire group of people just because they share a nationality or a religious conviction.

The ones who had earlier said we should round up the Muslims and send them back, that we should, in essence, do away with them all, had not changed their minds one bit. And now, I think I know (at least partially) why. They're scared.

I tried to counter their arguments. I tried to explain what a scary place this country would be if we started condemning groups as they want to condemn all Muslims. Then, one student said, "I think everyone's still so sensitive about 9/11, Mrs. Honeycutt." And I think she's right.

I think we all remember how unbelievably catastrophic that day was, and all of the days that came after, as people tried to make sense of it, tried to recover from it, tried to figure out how to go on. We mourned deeply. And now, nine years later, we've moved on in a lot of ways. But we're still scared.

We're scared it could happen again. We're scared we're going to continue to lose troops overseas. We scared there's no way to really, truly protect ourselves. And what happens when we get scared? We look for the monster under the bed. If we can find the monster, we can chase it out of the house, we can scare it away, we can kill it. We can be safe again.

I think that's where this hatred, this mistrust of all Muslims is coming from in my kids. They need a monster to point at, to chase from the house. And I'm betting that their parents, or other adults they admire and respect, are pointing first. And that scares me.

When we start making characterizations and decisions based on fear, we make mistakes. Creating scapegoats solves nothing, accomplishes nothing. I thought we learned that lesson when Hitler built his concentration camps. But I have students who want to bomb mosques, and I don't know how to change their minds.

I've been to Glamnation and want to go back

2010-09-14T16:50:00.004-04:00

I had several things I wanted to do this summer, and, on Aug. 31, I got to check the final one off my list - I saw Adam Lambert live.

Performing at Clowes Hall at Butler, Adam packed the auditorium with such a variety of people, I found myself trying to sort the audience into groups and just couldn't do it cleanly. There was, of course, the rainbow-wearing contengency, enthusiastically dancing to all of the recorded club tracks by MJ, Gaga, Justin Timberlake, Buckcherry, and Ke$ha (to name a few) played before Adam even took the stage. There were the cougars that seem to chase Adam wherever he goes. There were the tweens. But there was also the guy in the plaid shirt with the John Deere cap and big silver belt buckle. There were elderly couples. There were boyfriends with girlfriends and husbands with wives. Say what you want about him, he draws a VERY diverse crowd.

Here, though, is what I want to say about him: THE MAN CAN SING. He opened the show with a song I didn't know - "Voodoo." Theatrically staged, it was a great opener. He kept up the pace with "Fever" and definitely had me hot and bothered by the end of it. (Yes, everyone, I know he's gay. But he's also gorgeous!!)

It wasn't long into the show before he slowed things down, and this is where he really tore me up, and where his vocals absolutely soared. He strung together "Whataya Want from Me," "Time for Miracles," and "Aftermath" with a narrative about love being the most important thing we have to share. I've been going through a rough time in my personal life, and hearing him sing those songs live, in that pure, vibrant voice really touched me. I'll never forget it.

After the ballads, Adam revved us back up with songs I'd been dying to hear from him: "Strut," "Sure Fire Winners," "Sleepwalker," and, thank God, "If I Had You," which was his encore.

There was about an hour between Allison Iraheta's opening show (which was quite good) and Adam's performance - that's a lot of downtime between acts, and I have to admit I was getting a little perturbed. But once he hit the stage, all was forgiven, and I just wanted more. Adam's the real deal, a unique, quality performer, and I can't wait to revisit his Glamnation.

Lady Gaga was AMAZING!!

2010-07-16T13:31:00.003-04:00

There was a party in Indy Thursday night – a Monster Ball to be more precise – and all the freaks were outside. At least, that’s what Lady Gaga said.

The platinum-selling superstar performed all of her hits from both "The Fame" and "The Fame Monster" as well as a few older songs not included on either album. For two hours, Gaga gave her “little monsters” everything they’d hoped for – intricately choreographed dance routines, incredible vocal and musical performances, and an amazing stage show.

It wouldn’t be a complete review of a Lady Gaga performance if the music and costumes were ignored, but it’s important to take a minute to mention her message. When Gaga said “all the freaks are outside,” she did so to try and convey to her fans that they are not freaks, as society so often attempts to paint them.

“Let go of all your insecurities,” she said after singing “Love Game” and before launching into “Boys, Boys, Boys.”

“Reject anyone that said you’re not good enough. You remember you’re a superstar, and you were born that way. Tonight will be your liberation!”

Speaking often about how she wasn’t accepted as a teenager and how she still doesn’t fit into “that whole celebrity thing,” Gaga brought her audience closer to her by identifying with many of them who – judging by their responses – had often felt the same way.

After performing “Money Honey” and before she catapulted into the crazy popular “Telephone,” Gaga took several minutes to talk about the RE*Generation charity she is actively involved with through Virgin Mobile, her tour promoter. RE*Generation works to help the growing number of homeless youth which, according to Gaga, is heavily populated with members of the gay, lesbian, transgendered, and bisexual community. She encouraged her fans to support the charity however they could – through texting donations or even volunteering their time to help organizations supported by RE*Generation.

Judging from the attire of many of her “superfans,” as she liked to refer to the concert-goers, Lady Gaga’s wardrobe is one of the reasons they love her so much. Imitation being the richest form of flattery, there were many in attendance whose outfits were – without a doubt – inspired by “Mother Monster.” With a total of at least 14 costume changes throughout the show, Gaga certainly gave her fans new ideas for the future.

Known for her outrageous outfits, Gaga didn’t disappoint those who were hoping to see some. While performing “The Fame,” she came out in a voluminous red cloak, a la Scarlett O’Hara, as it looked as if curtain rods were the main suspension piece at her shoulders supporting the cloak. Past midpoint of the show, Gaga disappeared inside a round, opaque screen which rather resembled an upside down wedding cake, and came out of it wrapped in a dress comprised of layers and layers of white satin and tulle, complete with a flowing train, a headpiece that looked like a white fan that would open and shut, and silver wings that also opened and closed. In that costume, and in shoes that seemed impossible to walk in, she performed “So Happy I Could Die,” at times more than twenty feet above the stage courtesy of a hydraulic lift.

Perhaps the most outrageous costume of the night was actually three-in-one. At the beginning of “Monster,” in a set comprised of huge, thorn trees and park benches whose backs were overgrown razor blades, Gaga emerged in what could only be described as a gigantic white lamp shade decorated with long white fringe. When she cast that aside, she exposed a jacket made up of very long blonde and brown hair and brightly colored sequins. After her dancers (she had no fewer than ten) “attacked” her and tore the hair jacket from her, she was left in nothing but a black leotard and short black boots. Oh, and she was bloody from where the “monster” had ripped out her heart.

Lady Gaga’s fans adore her. They ate up her performances of “Love Game,” “Telephone,” “Monster,” “Alejandro,” “Poker Face,” and her encore performance of “Bad Romance.” They jumped, they screamed, they danced and screamed some more. And “they” were people of all ages and ethnicities. Couples in their 50s and 60s sat next to others in their late teens or twenties who sat in front of parents with their “tween”-age children. People-watching at Gaga’s show is a great opening act.

And speaking of the opening act, Gaga’s longtime friends Semi-Precious Weapons opened the show with their self-titled track from their new album "You Love You." The four-man band is an interesting blend of punk and rock and their stage performance is even better than the studio-mixed version on the disc. They are high-energy, in-your-face musicians and shouldn’t be missed. Shame on those who came too late to see them.

A fun, shivery read - overall

2010-07-13T16:23:00.003-04:00

I sift through a lot of book recommendations, wherever they come from, so when several recommended Christopher Ransom’s The Birthing House, I paid attention. It’s a horror story, and the concept sounded interesting, so I bought and read it.

The gist of the story is this: Jo and Conrad Harrison have a troubled marriage. When Conrad’s dad dies and Conrad comes into a substantial inheritance, he buys – on a whim – a 140-year-old Victorian birthing house in Wisconsin. He believes that leaving LA and moving to the rural Midwest will save his marriage.

The birthing house – as you might have guessed from the title – is at the center of the story. For decades, it served as a place for women to have their children under a doctor’s care. I kind of see it as a “midwife clinic,” except that it’s a doctor instead of a midwife.

You learn early on that the house has secrets and probably ghosts. You also learn that even though we tend to think of birth as a happy time, a time of celebration, that isn’t always the case. The house is stained – figuratively and literally.

When Jo gets a job offer that she can’t refuse, she leaves Conrad and the new home for an eight-week training session in Michigan. In her absence, Conrad has to deal with the house and its secrets alone, which isn’t the best for him – physically or mentally.

I’m still not sure how I feel about the book as a whole. I like a good scary story, and there are definitely parts in the novel where I was truly creeped out. I like to read at night, when the house is quiet and dark, and there were times when I’d find myself double-checking a shadow in my room or listening twice to the creak of the house. I like it when a book can do that to me. Would it have done that if I’d read it on my wooden bench in the back yard in the middle of the afternoon? I don’t know. Regardless, I have to give Ransom high marks for the creepy factor. I also really liked the idea behind the story. I’d never read about a birthing house before (although the author lives in one, so I guess they existed), so that was a unique concept for me.

Until I got to the last twenty or thirty pages, I really liked the book. The end got weird. I think I understand what happened in most of those pages, but I truly don’t get the ending. I don’t really know what happened to him, and I don’t think it’s one of those books that is supposed to leave you guessing. I got the feeling I was supposed to understand, and I just didn’t, and I blame that on his writing. It read as though he knew what he meant, but he didn’t get it down on paper to make it as clear to everyone else. I might be off on that, and would welcome other opinions.

Overall, I’d recommend this one if you like to read at night and feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. It’s fun and it’s interesting through most of the story. And if you know what happens to Conrad at the end, please, share that with the rest of the class.

Stephen King's legacy - It's not just his books

2010-07-13T15:16:00.003-04:00

I have to admit that when I picked up Heart-Shaped Box by Joe Hill, I did so because he’s Stephen King’s son, and I was curious what his writing skills and story-telling were like. From now on, I’ll pick up his books because both are high caliber.

Judas (Jude) Coyne is a fifty-something, semi-retired, mega-successful hard rock star. He lives on a farm in rural New York State with his two dogs, Angus and Bon. There is a slowly-revolving door on his house which allows for the entry and exit of young, gothic female fans whom he refers to by the name of the state from which they come. Georgia lives with him when the novel begins. It is his relationships with these young women, his penchant for collecting occult memorabilia, and his ugly childhood that turn the wheels of this story.

When the story opens, Jude’s assistant tells him about an interesting item up for auction online. For $1,000, Jude can own a ghost. It’s a no-brainer. Jude tells his assistant to buy it. A few days later, a heart-shaped box arrives at Jude’s farmhouse and inside the box is a dead man’s suit. With the suit came the ghost. And from that point on, things go increasingly bad for Jude and Georgia.

I don’t know how someone could grow up with Stephen King as his father and remain uninfluenced by the man and his books. The connections are easy to see. (I even think there’s a subtle nod to Maximum Overdrive in Heart-Shaped Box.) But I don’t want you to think that Hill is another King, because he isn’t. His voice is original and strong and this novel was unique and fun to read. Hill’s second novel, Horns, is next on my list. It’s about a guy who wakes up hungover from a wild night and has horns growing out of his head. He’s not sure anyone else can see them, but he can, and he can feel them. I’m looking forward to that ride as well.

Joe Hill is the real deal. He carved a place for himself long before anyone even knew the secret of his family tree. But if you glance at the author’s photo, there’s no denying who his daddy is.

A birthday retrospective

2010-07-11T01:32:00.003-04:00

I turned 42 today and decided to look backward for a little while. On the walk I took yesterday, I walked one direction for a half hour then turned around and went back the way I’d come. I thought there was something in that – looking at things you’d seen before but from a different perspective. The sunlight was hitting the trees differently, there were fewer shadows (because the sun had risen a little more), I walked on the other side of the road, so I saw things on that side I hadn’t seen on the first half of my walk. I knew that little nugget of an idea would become something, and here it is: my birthday blog.

I turned two in 1970. I’ve perused events from that year and have chosen a few to share – some personal, some not. In January, the first 747 entered into service. I’ve been on several of those in my life. They’ve taken me to some wonderful vacation spots: Cabo San Lucas, Puerto Vallarta, the Bahamas, Phoenix. The two that stand out for me are Cabo in 2008 because it was a family vacation and unforgettable because of those shared memories, and Phoenix – basically for the same reason. I took Tori to see my brother and his wife. It was the first time Tori flew and we had a blast! Also, in July of 1970, American Top 40 with Casey Kasem debuted. I have so many teen memories of that radio show, listening to see who was going to be on top each week. (And I have to admit, I loved the long distance dedications.)

In 1980, Mom remarried and Bob became my dad. There’s not a “step” needed, wanted, or included. Dad has taught me the value of work, laughter, and friendship (and the importance of keeping the oil changed in my car!). Together, he and Mom have taught me the meaning of family. The other big personal milestone for me in 1980 was beginning junior high. ‘Nuff said on that, right? The music world lost Bon Scott, John Bonham, and John Lennon. I don’t remember being affected by the first two – which is ironic because I became a fan of both AC/DC and Zeppelin – but I do remember Lennon’s assassination. Tori and I visited the memorial mosaic in Strawberry Fields in Central Park last year. And then, finally, the film Ordinary People was released. Last fall, the high school drama department staged this, and they did an amazing job with such mature material.

Ten years later, in 1990, I met Jim Gardner, whom I would marry the following year. The marriage didn’t work out, but Tori resulted from it, so I will never, ever regret that marriage. It was a very volatile year: I changed – and lost – jobs more than once. I moved twice – the first time being out of my family home and in with my soon-to-be husband. Lots of emotions ran around that year. On a broader spectrum, here are some international/national events that made me stop and go “Hmmmm” when I surveyed the list for the year: The Hubble Telescope was launched into space. Have you seen any of the pictures that thing has taken? If not, you need to Google them. They’re amazing. On a sad note, Jim Henson died in May. I was a big fan of the Muppets TV show and don’t think I could name just one favorite. Could you? Also in May, the WHO removed homosexuality from its list of diseases. I can’t believe it took that long, and I can’t believe how far we, as a society, are yet from acceptance of homosexuals. In August, Iraq invaded Kuwait, and we know the history of that, don’t we? At the end of September, the National Cathedral in Washington, D.C. was finished, and I think I’ll finally get to see it next year!!

Ten years ago, in 2000, I was 32 years old and wrapping up my first year as a high school English teacher while Tori was wrapping up her year as a kindergartener. We were living in our very first apartment – just the two of us – and were very happy as the budding “Gardner Girls.” Looking outside my little world, Charlie Brown missed his last football kick in February when Charles Schulz died. I still love to watch the Peanuts specials at the holidays, don’t you? Playstation 2 was launched early in the year, and do you know, I still have never played with one? We don’t own one – any of the PS versions – and I have absolutely no desire to. In October, Al-Qaeda attacked the USS Cole. Tragically, we know where they struck less than a year later.

So, here I am. It’s 2010 and I’m 42 years old. I have a 16-year-old daughter and am still teaching English, although it’s now to middle school students (whom I much prefer!!). I have a lot to be grateful for in my life: I have a great family and amazing friends. I live my dream every time I sit down to my computer and work on one of my novels. Maybe someday I’ll be published, but maybe I won’t. That’s why it’s a dream. I have a roof over my head, food on my table, and people in my life who care about me.

My hope is that I’ve lived my life in a way that has shown people that I care about them too, that their happiness and well-being are important to me. Tomorrow isn’t guaranteed to any of us, so, before I close, please know that I’m grateful for all the goodness God has blessed me with and that I will continue to try and live my life in a way that shows it. To my family and friends – I love ya. Thanks for being part of my life.

COLUMBINE: No more myths

2010-06-17T00:42:00.003-04:00

It’s difficult to find an appropriate word to use to describe Dave Cullen’s COLUMBINE. If I had to pick one, I think I’d go with “engrossing.”

During the span of ten years, Cullen pored over tens of thousands of pages of police documents and records, and interviewed survivors, victims’ families, and other members of the community that surrounded Columbine High School on April 20, 1999.

In my opinion, COLUMBINE should be required reading in any beginning journalism class. In a society that seems to accept opinion and speculation from the mainstream media as fact and “news,” Cullen takes one of the most emotionally-charged events in our nation’s history and reports it, period. He has plenty of opportunities to profess anger, sadness, sympathy, and disbelief, but he doesn’t. He refuses to point a finger of blame at anyone other than the two boys who committed the crime, and then, you know he points that finger only because it’s so obvious what they did. Cullen’s book is journalism at its best: he presents the facts – all of them, in all of their gory, infuriating, heart-wrenching details – and allows his readers to come to their own conclusions. He cites his sources unwaveringly and never places himself in the story. Journalism 101.

Although I stand by my description of the book as “engrossing,” it was an incredibly difficult read. I have a very clear understanding now – probably the best I can hope to have not having lived through it personally – of what went through the minds of Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold for years prior to the attack. Cullen walks his readers through everything, literally step by step in some instances. By the end of the book, there is very little left to wonder.

There are triumphs in the story, and they help to assuage the pain and disbelief, but they don’t negate it completely. I think overall I am glad that I read COLUMBINE. I think it’s good to have a bit of understanding when something so unspeakably tragic takes place. I think I learned from it. I know I’ll never hear “Columbine” again without shuddering a little, without thinking about the thirteen who died, the one who dreamed it all up, and the one who followed.

Read GONE, BABY, GONE (with a word of caution)

2010-06-09T13:20:00.002-04:00

So, I became a Dennis Lehane fan after reading SHUTTER ISLAND. I wanted to read the book (amazing!) before seeing the movie (have yet to see). Upon finishing SHUTTER ISLAND, I went looking for his earlier novels and began reading the Patrick Kenzie/Angie Gennaro series. A DRINK BEFORE THE WAR is the first in that series and successfully pulled me into the dark Boston world where Kenzie and Gennaro live and work as private detectives investigating heinous crimes.

GONE, BABY, GONE is the fourth in that series and is the basis for the movie of the same name (which I haven’t seen). Lehane’s writing and character development are what keep me coming back to his stories. The plots are always interesting, and I’m always wondering whodunit? but I’m much more intrigued by how his characters act and react in the situations they encounter.

The mystery that opens GONE, BABY, GONE revolves around the disappearance of four-year-old Amanda McCready. Every available police officer in the Boston area has been pulled into the search; all resources are in play. Regardless, Amanda’s been missing for three days when Kenzie and Gennaro are brought in and neither have any hope of finding the girl alive. It’s the little girl’s aunt Beatrice who pleads for help, though, and to whom Angie can’t say no.

The search for Amanda brings new characters into Patrick and Angie’s world: a couple of detectives named Poole and Broussard, as well as a convicted drug dealer named Cheese Olamon. There are other new bad guys, some recurring good guys, and, in true Lehane fashion, it’s a little unclear through most of the book as to who’s bad and who’s good. It’s fun guessing, though.

One word of caution: Lehane is not afraid to make children the victims in his stories. As they search for Amanda, Patrick and Angie come across people who commit horrific crimes against kids, and Lehane doesn’t pull any punches as he describes these circumstances. I’m not sure why he chooses this route so often – why kids are so often the ones who suffer in his stories. If I ever have a chance to talk to him, that’s probably going to be my first question. If it weren’t for the fact that he writes so darn well, I might not be able to pick up another of his books that put children at the center of crime.

Maybe that’s his point. Maybe he wants us to think about the fact that children are violated in a multitude of ways in our country and the ones who could be rescued often aren’t. The end of GONE, BABY, GONE makes me wonder if this isn’t the impetus behind his writing. Face what’s going on and figure out what you can do to help.

Believe me, by the end of this book, you’ll be wondering a lot of things. I’d love to hear what some of them are.

A great debut: GIRL IN TRANSLATION

2010-06-09T12:26:00.002-04:00

Looking for something a little different to read? Try Jean Kwok’s GIRL IN TRANSLATION.

In the early 1980’s, Kimberly Chang emigrates with her mother from Hong Kong to New York City in search of a better life. They believe they have a shot at something good because Kimberly’s aunt Paula, her mother’s sister, had married an American and together the couple had built a business in the garment district. When Kimberly and her mom see the apartment Aunt Paula and Uncle Bob found for them, though, the fantasy of life in America comes to an abrupt end.

The apartment is in a condemned building and Kimberly and her mother are the only occupants. There is no heat when they arrive in the middle of winter. Two windows are broken in the kitchen and covered with plastic trash bags. Roaches and rats are everywhere.

When Kimberly and her mother report to the factory Paula and Bob own, they discover it’s a sweatshop filled with other Chinese immigrants – some old enough to be grandparents, some much younger than Kimberly’s eleven years. The workers are paid according to how many pieces they finish, not how many hours they work, which is illegal, and Kimberly’s mother is treated the same as everyone else. It doesn’t take Kimberly long to understand that she will have to work in the factory with her mother – after school is out each day – if they have any hope of getting out of the horrible apartment and paying off the debt they owe to Paula and Bob for bringing them to the United States.

From the description so far, the book probably sounds pretty bleak, and, in places it is. Kwok immigrated to the United States when she was a child, coming from Hong Kong just as Kimberly did. With her family, Kwok also worked in a sweatshop, so it’s not hard to believe the horrible conditions under which Kimberly and her mother work – Kwok is writing what she knows.

But as much as the book is a condemnation of modern life in the garment district, it’s also a celebration of the strength and resilience of Kimberly and her mother. Nothing is easy for the two of them. Everything they have – even the stuffed animal material they rescue from a Dumpster and turn into blankets and clothes – is gained through incredible struggles and is held onto with a determination you have no choice but to applaud.

GIRL IN TRANSLATION is a bittersweet story of hope and survival, and, ultimately, success and redemption. It will make you count your blessings.

Picoult's newest was a forced march

2010-05-27T16:36:00.004-04:00

Normally, when I have a new Jodi Picoult novel on my bookshelf, I am torn between whisking it into my hands and devouring it in a day or two, and leaving it there for maybe a week or more, letting the anticipation build until I can't stand it anymore and absolutely have to read it NOW. That's how it was with her newest, HOUSE RULES. I should have let it sit a while longer.

As usual, Picoult's newest story brings into focus a current topic of discussion, centering the conflict around that topic and a family in distress. There is, of course, the requisite courtroom battle meant to divide the reader's loyalty among the characters in play. The topic in HOUSE RULES is autism, Asperger's Syndrome specifically. The family is a single mom who has been raising her older son (the one with AS) and her younger son (who is "neurotypical" - in other words "normal") on her own for about fifteen years. Jacob, the older boy with Asperger's, is accused of murdering his counselor and the only hope his attorney has for acquittal is claiming insanity due to the AS.

The premise sounds interesting, doesn't it? I thought so too. As I mentioned above, I'm a loyal, diehard Picoult fan, and I looked forward to reading this book. So what was wrong with it, you ask? It's difficult to put my finger on the problem, but I'm going to try.

The first element of the book that really threw me off was the constant descriptions of what Asperger's Syndrome is, how it manifests itself, how it affects Jacob's functioning in the world, and how it affects the people closest to him. Those descriptions really never stop. Sometimes they're necessary and add to the narrative, but often they're repetitive and dry - often even clinical. Many times the book read as though Picoult simply quoted her notes from interviews she conducted with various doctors, counselors, and Asperger's patients. There were pages in the last third of the book that I practically skipped - barely skimmed - because it was the doctor's testimony about what AS is and believe me - by that point in the book, you've been there done that.

I think another issue I had was that this time - and this just never happens with her books - the characters were not very well developed. Or maybe that's not quite right. Let me say it this way: Jacob's character is very well developed. I've had students with Asperger's Syndrome, and I wish that I'd had this book to read before I had them in the classroom because I feel like I understand them so much better than I ever did before. Jacob was real and complete for me. The other characters - his mom, his brother, and his attorney specifically - seem to be developed only as far as necessary to allow them to interact with Jacob. This could have been done intentionally because living with Jacob doesn't allow anyone to have much else in his or her life. Maybe those characters felt incomplete to me because they were truly incomplete people. I'm not sure. All I know is that it didn't work for me.

The plot itself is compelling, although I knew very, very early in the story what the surprise was going to be at the end. Jacob is interesting, and it's sad to think about people having to live their lives with AS and around it. It's one of those stories that makes me grateful to God that my daughter is healthy.

This book will in no way turn me away from Jodi Picoult. She's a master storyteller, period. I am hoping that this was just a slight bump in the road that I've traveled happily - and smoothly - for years with her in her books. I was ready to put HOUSE RULES down and be done with it, but I'm just as eager to read her next one, whatever it may be.

THE KITCHEN HOUSE delivers the real meaning of "family"

2010-05-18T12:23:00.003-04:00

I love to read, so I'm always open to suggestions for new books and authors, which is the main reason I still subscribe to both The Mystery Guild and The Literary Guild. A couple months ago, The Literary Guild sent me an email recommending THE KITCHEN HOUSE. I saved the email, but I didn't pay much attention to it at first. Then, a few weeks later, they sent me an email about an upcoming sale. I remembered the recommendation, went ahead and ordered THE KITCHEN HOUSE, and devoured it in a few days.

In 1791, a seven-year-old Irish orphan winds up on a Virginia tobacco plantation after her parents (who were indentured to the plantation owner) die on the ocean voyage and are buried at sea. After her traumatic trip - and her subsequent separation from her brother - Lavinia retreats into herself, refusing to eat or speak.

It is the love and support that she receives from a family of black slaves on the plantation that brings Lavinia around. Mama Mae reaches out first, coaxing the bird-like orphan's appetite and trust, but it is Belle - the kitchen house worker - whom Lavinia ties herself most tightly to.

The book's prologue opens in 1810 with Lavinia racing through the woods towards a fire, trailed by her own young daughter. Emerging from the woods, Lavinia is horrified by the sight of a black woman hanging from an old oak tree. Having come to love the slaves on the plantation as much as Lavinia does, I am plagued throughout the book by the knowledge that one of them will be murdered in the end.

THE KITCHEN HOUSE, a debut novel by Kathleen Grissom, is my favorite kind of story, and anyone who has read my other reviews could probably recite the criteria themselves: characters that are so well drawn you feel as if you've known them forever and miss them when they're gone, as well as a plot that continuely compels me to keep turning the pages, leaving a hole inside me when there are no more to turn.

I am so grateful The Literary Guild recommended this book. I hope you'll read it and feel the same way.

Lescroart's newest delivers on suspense

2010-05-12T17:50:00.005-04:00

I've been a fan of suspense writer John Lescroart for years. His Dismas Hardy/Abe Glitsky series contains all the ingredients of a great story: well-developed, likable characters who share multi-faceted relationships; interesting crimes twisted up in unpredictable ways; and dry, sarcastic humor.

Dismas Hardy is a defense attorney in San Francisco. He has an interesting past that I won't reveal because I heartily encourage the reading of the early volumes in this series. He has a knack, though, for defending clients that you want to believe (most of the time) are innocent, but who you can also believe are guilty of the crimes they're charged with. Working your way through the legal puzzles is always fun with Lescroart.

Abe Glitsky is (now) a lieutenant in the San Francisco police force and is best friends with Hardy. See the potential conflicts there already? How much do they tell each other about the case they share - albeit on opposite sides? Glitsky is a man of few words, but you always want to listen when he talks.

In Lescroart's newest novel in this series, A PLAGUE OF SECRETS, Hardy takes a case representing a socialite accused of murder. She owns a successful coffee shop on the corner of Haight and Ashbury but becomes the target of a police investigation when the shop's manager is discovered shot to death in the alley behind the business. To make matters worse, it comes to light that the manager had been selling pot - lots of it - out of the shop and had been blackmailing the owner. She had opportunity and motive - even Hardy comes to believe his client is guilty.

The criminal puzzle in PLAGUE is exactly what I've come to expect - and love - about Lescroart's books. It's original and kept me guessing throughout the whole story ... suspense at its best. (I was amazed, too, at the rights the federal government has - at how easily it can lay claim to our possessions, our lives.)

The only small disappointment for me was I wanted a little more time with Hardy and Glitzky. I keep coming back to Lescroart's books because I love those characters, and I miss them in between novels. Glitzky's family goes through a major trauma in PLAGUE, but even with that, we don't spend as much time with them as I'd like. There's not as much interaction between the two men as I've grown accustomed to, and it left me wanting.

Other than that, the novel was great. If you're already a fan of Lescroart's, you definitely want to pick this one up. The criminal story is excellent and you'll want to read about what happens with Abe. If you're new to Lescroart, go grab DEAD IRISH - the first in the series - and get busy reading!

I'd rather keep walking this road

2010-04-21T17:22:00.003-04:00

How many of you, if given the chance, would go back and relive your late teens or even your 20s? How many of you would like to remain that age forever? My eighth graders think they would.

The journal prompt I gave them today was this: Imagine you’ve found the fountain of youth. Once you drink from it, you will remain the age you are at that point in time forever. You’ll be immortal (but not a vampire, for all the Twilight fans out there). At what age would you drink from it and why? (I also told them that they could choose not to drink from it.)

Of the 70 kids I have, I think the number who chose not to drink from it hovered somewhere between ten and fifteen. Some of them explained their choice by saying it went against their faith. Others said they thought they would simply get bored if they stayed the same age forever.

Many, many, many of them said they would want to be about 21 or 22. Can you guess why? Their explanations went something like this: “If I’m 21, then I’m old enough to move away from my parents and to buy certain things.” (It was funny – alcohol was on all of their minds, but most came up with a euphemism for it.) These kids basically saw it as an eternal party and were very excited about that prospect.

The ones who didn’t choose 21 or 22 invariably chose their mid- to late-20s. They included the same reasons as the younger age group, but added that they would be past the party-all-the-time stage (although they still could if they wanted to, they said!) and that they would be ready to have a family. At that point, I asked if they would have their family drink from the fountain. They all said yes, although there were some frowns when I asked at what age they would have their children drink from it.

I told them that I’d like to see them all again when they’re actually in their mid-20s to see if their perspectives had changed. Would they still want to drink from the fountain at that age or would they want to wait until they were in their 30s? 40s? Would any of them want to go back to their teens?

It wasn’t until my last class of the day that one of my students – JD – asked me when I would want to drink from the fountain. I said that I wouldn’t. His quick response? “Why? Ya too old now?” I laughed (as did the rest of the kids).

I told him, no, it wasn’t that I thought I was too old. I said it was because of my faith and because as much as I enjoyed my teens, my 20s, and my 30s, I have no desire to live them again. I said that everything that’s happened to me in my life has helped shape who I am today. I’m happy with who I am, and I wouldn’t want to risk the person I am today by missing out on some of my life experiences. I’m still looking forward to many things in my life and have no desire to freeze myself at this or any age.

It’s natural, I think, for the kids to have the kinds of thoughts they did today. (How many of us didn't ache for our 20s when we were still in high school?)

It is my hope, though, that they live the kind of lives that will change their minds by the time they’re my age. And I hope that’s the kind of life you’re living too. After all, it's not the destination, is it? I think it's the journey.

Why don't you go Under the Dome

2010-04-19T22:10:00.001-04:00

Several months ago, my husband decided to buy Stephen King’s Under the Dome. He’s a huge fan of Uncle Stevie and was eager to read this almost 1,100-page tome. However, he was only willing to buy this doorstop if I agreed to read it too. I also enjoy a good Stephen King novel – although I’ve read fewer of his books than Terry has – so I said, sure, I’ll read it too.

Terry read it almost immediately after buying it and has been after me ever since to read it. I have so many books on my bookshelves calling to me that I put it off and put it off, knowing how long it would take me to get through it. Finally, though, his puppy-dog eyes worked their magic and I picked up the book (using a crane and a hydraulic lift).

I finished Under the Dome today. I had planned to take today as a personal day, so after sleeping in, I moved to the living room, picked up the book, cuddled under a blanket, and read and read and read. It was a great day because there’s little I love to do more with my free time than read, and the book was a pleasure.

You might be intimidated when you pick up the book at first because I’m not kidding, the size of it is frightening. I’m an ebook hater – I want to turn pages, feel the book, smell the book, etc. – but if I were ever to consider buying one, it would be to make reading such a big book easier. However, I caution you: Don’t let the heft of it prevent you from reading it.

Uncle Stevie creates an entire town of incredibly individual characters in this book, and they are my main reason for recommending it. Some of them are inspiring, some of them are gaping-mouth stupid, some of them are evil, and some are just plain sick in the head. Some are even a whole lot like you and me.

The premise of the book is that the small town of Chester’s Mill, Maine, is all of the sudden stuck under an invisible, indestructible dome. Of course, there’s the mystery surrounding the dome itself – where did it come from and will it ever go away? But the story is more about how the town’s inhabitants live under the dome, completely cut off from the rest of the world – who rises, who falls, who survives and who becomes a victim of the dome.

My favorite books are the ones whose characters stay with me long after finishing the book. Uncle Stevie did that with the dome. I dare you to read it and not be haunted by Big Jim. Or the Chef. Or maybe even Junior.

Let me know how that goes.

8th graders discuss genetic engineering: 3-parent embryos, anyone?

2010-04-17T12:16:00.002-04:00

Yesterday, I gave my students a journal prompt from a news article I came across explaining that scientists in the UK have figured out how to “fix” embryos with genetic defects. After fertilizing the mother’s egg with her partner’s sperm in the lab, creating an embryo, the nucleus of this (suspected genetically defective) embryo is removed and transferred to the “donor” embryo that has had its nucleus removed. It is believed that this transfer will leave the faulty, defective DNA behind and allow the embryo to grow (if actually implanted in the mother) into a healthy child – a child with three parents (one man, two women). Because of the ethical complications of this process, scientists have not actually implanted human embryos, but they believe they will be able to within the next three years. They’ve already done it with monkeys and are pleased with the results.

I had my students write whatever their thoughts, feelings, or questions were about this topic, and I was pleasantly surprised at the depth of their thoughts. We had substantial discussions (each lasting at least twenty minutes – the longest lasting forty) and the kids were able to share their opinions (some of them WIDELY different from others) without telling each other they were wrong. Would you like to hear some of what they said?

Several of them believed this process was akin to abortion. They felt that removing the nucleus from the first embryo destroyed that particular child. Many said that God creates us and intends for us to be who He wants us to be and that man should not interfere with that at all. Regardless of whatever genetic defect the child might be born with, they didn’t feel science should be part of the process.

I had students who straddled the fence. The process seemed to make them uncomfortable – they didn’t seem to like the idea of science messing around with the construction of a human being – but they did admit to being in favor of it if it would fix a lethal defect. If the child would be born dead or would die soon after birth, they said they would be in favor of the process.

On the other side of the fence were the students who believed that eliminating genetic defects would be good for everyone. They said the child would have a more meaningful life, and they said some parents just couldn’t handle raising and caring for children who are born with genetic defects. They mentioned too the lessened financial burden parents (and society) would carry if these children were born healthy and without the need for advanced medical care and treatments.

There were a couple students who stunned me with their comments. One young man said that he was entirely in favor of the process and took it a step further. He said he thinks women should have to register with the government when they want to become pregnant and should be tested for the possibility of giving birth to genetically defective children. If results indicate they could have genetically defective children, then they should have to go through this process to avoid it.

I kept my own thoughts and comments to myself all day, with one exception. (I didn’t want to influence what they were saying, and I didn’t want anyone to feel inhibited by anything I might say.) The one exception was to this particular student’s comments about government intervention. I asked him where this government intervention would stop. Maybe they would begin by preventing the birth of children with lethal defects, but it wouldn’t be long before they would decide that another “defect” is undesirable, and so is this one and that one. I asked him how long he thought it would be before the government began deciding brown hair and dark eyes were undesirable, as Hitler did. He’s a smart kid – really smart – and it truly scared me that these were reasonable thoughts in his mind. Where are our kids getting these ideas?

The other comment that surprised me was a very logical question coming from a boy that on most days I would gleefully strangle because he can’t stay in his seat and he can’t be quiet. He asked, “Couldn’t the woman who donated the egg sue for custody or visitation?” Pretty insightful, huh?

This post has already gotten very long, and I haven’t mentioned everything we talked about. I think you can see, though, from the samples I’ve shared, that it was a thought-provoking discussion.

Our children do think. They have opinions and lots of questions. I hope they also have people in their lives who will listen to them and talk with them so that we can raise a generation that doesn’t want to dictate – even fears to dictate – what constitutes a perfect child. I don’t want a roomful of students that look and sound alike. I want variety. God save us from Sameness. (The Giver, anyone?)

The Demon has a heart

2010-04-08T19:21:00.003-04:00

When you think of Gene Simmons, what comes to mind? KISS? His seven-inch-long tongue? Thousands of women?

If these details construct your whole frame of reference for the infamous rocker in the sky-high platform boots, then it won't surprise you to know that he hooked up with a Playboy model, will it?

Yeah, it didn't surprise me either. Then I started watching Gene Simmons Family Jewels, and my perspective on Gene Simmons has changed immensely.

Did you know he likes to sleep in footie pajamas? Or that he has never had a drink of alcohol, never smoked, never partaken of illegal drugs, or that he has no tattoos?

Would it surprise you to know that he and Shannon Tweed (the Playboy model I mentioned) have been "life partners" for the last 26 years? They have two children together - Sophie, 18, and Nick, 21 - and they live an unbelievably (in Gene's words) "unconventional conventional life." It is that unconventional conventionality that draws me to the show.

It's fun to watch Family Jewels because, after all, it is Gene Simmons! He's very funny. But he's also a truly dedicated father and "boyfriend." (Gene refuses to marry Shannon, no matter how often she asks.)

I decided to write this post after watching the opening episode for Season 5. Shannon found a lump in her breast and went to have it checked. The lump she'd found was nothing but a cyst, but the doctor, while examining her, found a different, suspicious one and decided Shannon needed a biopsy. KISS had just started a new tour, and Gene was on the road. Shannon thought it best to keep the biopsy from Gene (and the kids). Nick and Sophie found out, though, and Nick called "Daddo." Gene came home.

When Shannon went for her biopsy, she let the cameras in. Even though she's beautiful and a former Playboy model, there was nothing sexual when she bared herself for the biopsy. She was simply a woman living a moment thousands of other women live every day. But Shannon forewent the privacy most of us cling to and underwent the procedure honestly and openly for her viewers to watch. I, for one, am grateful.

Watching the doctor perform the biopsy demystified that process for me. If I should ever have to go through that myself, at least now I have a frame of reference for the process. I'll have enough to worry about if that ever happens. Thanks to Shannon's generosity in sharing her experience, I won't have to worry about what the needle looks like, how much it will hurt, or how they'll find the lump with the needle. I'll just have to wait for the results, as Shannon did.

When her appointment to meet with the doctor and go over the test results rolled around, Gene was back on the road. Shannon made her way to the doctor's office alone, but found Gene sitting in the waiting room when she got there. As she hugged him, Shannon said something like, "Somewhere there are 60,000 very disappointed KISS fans." He told her there was no place else he needed to be. Unconventionally conventional.

Shannon's tests were negative. The lump was a benign cyst. Having lived through the ordeal, Shannon decided to volunteer at a breast cancer center in LA, and Sophie joined her. There's also a link on the Family Jewels page about breast cancer awareness.

There's just nothing to dislike about this show. Unless, of course, you have something against laughing from your gut and wiping away the occasional tear. Oh, and watching Gene Simmons walk around in footie PJs is pretty cool too.

Criminal parents excused?

2010-04-06T21:17:00.008-04:00

I completely believe parents should be trusted to raise their children. They should be able (dare I say allowed) to teach them to pray or not to pray; to teach them to value education or not; to teach them to have respect for themselves, for others, for life itself or not to respect anything or anyone. Of course I have my own personal hopes as to what parents will teach their children, but we live in a country where we should have the liberty to approach this all-important role in whatever way we see best.

Here's the big HOWEVER -

Parents should have their children's well-being in mind at all times - their physical, emotional, and spiritual well-being. Always in all ways. I hold fast to that without exception. Children are the greatest gifts we can be blessed with. We are entrusted with their development as human beings. We owe them the best we have to give.

So, when a father forces his 8-year-old and his 9-year-old daughters to watch hard-core porn online while visiting him at his home, I believe this goes against so many facets of what is good and healthy for children that it's criminal. He is truly harming them in more ways than one.

We should be able to choose whether or not to teach our children to pray, to read, to love, but we should not be allowed to hurt them. (And yes, I believe not teaching them to pray, read, and love hurts them, but stick with me...I hope my point makes sense.)

This man lives in Amarillo, Texas, and there is a public indecency law that is written there in a way that prohibits him from being prosecuted because it was written so that parents could be allowed to teach their children about sex without fear of prosecution for that. It also explicitly says that parents are allowed to show "harmful" material to their children (so that they can teach them about sex, I guess).

My guess is this law was written at a time when sex education was taboo and some parents were catching flak for speaking openly to their children about the whole process. Some legislator took up the cause, wrote a bill, and got a bunch of his friends on board. Voila! It's now legal to talk to your children about sex.

Why in the world couldn't parents have had the implicit right to teach their children about sex (as I believe it should be) without any law being written to protect them while they do that, so that when a criminal exposes his chlidren to hard-core pornography for his own deviate reasons he can be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law? There's an AP story that covers this briefly as well as one from Amarillo.com if you'd like to read more.

The prosecutor has filed charges against the man under a statute that prohibits endangering children. He isn't sure his suit will stand up in court because he has to battle the public indecency one.

To me, this is a case where too much government has tied the hands of law enforcement. Parents should be able to be parents. Criminals should be at the mercy of the law. Period.

Undercover Boss - Good karma at work

2010-04-05T20:49:00.008-04:00

I've always been a firm believer in you get what you give. If you treat people with kindness, respect, and affection, then I believe that's what you'll get back from the world. I know it's not like that all the time, believe me. And goodness knows, I'm not successful all the time being the person I want to be. But I do try.

Sometimes it's hard to be upbeat and positive. When bad luck rains down, sometimes the inclination is to drown in that flood, to lose hold of your good intentions, your optimistic attitude.

That's why I like the new show (that's already coming to an end for the season - sad!) - Undercover Boss. Mom got Terry and me hooked on this show, and we look forward to it every week. (If you're interested, follow the link, and you can watch full episodes online!)

What I love about this show is that it highlights human beings. You see people just being who they are. Most of them do their jobs with amazing, inspiring attitudes; many of them go above and beyond their job descriptions to reach out and help others when maybe they themselves could use a helping hand as well. They're living their lives in a positive manner, they're being good people, and guess what - it comes back to them by the end of the episode.

The reason this show often gives me the warm fuzzies is that these people are being good because that's just who they are. They don't know they're working beside the president of their company or that there could be a reward waiting for them a few days down the road.

It's the karma thing coming to life - to real life. Good people, doing good things and getting good things in return. Rewards they never expected. Rewards they weren't working to earn.

How is that not cool? How could that not inspire all of us to keep the faith, to be the people we know we can be? Not for the rewards we may receive but because it's simply the right thing to do.

Tiger Woods is a person, right?

2010-04-05T16:01:00.004-04:00

To continue the idea I began in the title of this blog...He's not a head of state. He's definitely not a deity. Yet, the media is treating him as if he is something more than a man who plays a sport very well, who is worth millions and millions of dollars, and who slept with many women who were not married to him.

Does it drive anyone else crazy when you hear the fervor in a reporter's voice as he talks about Tiger's return to golf? I listened to Rafer Weigel this morning on HLN (a guy I usually enjoy listening to) talking about Tiger at the Masters. Rafer is already there at Augusta was all a-tremble because Tiger showed up earlier than expected (on Sunday) and Rafer and his compatriots got to see Tiger play nine holes. Woo Hoo.... Are you trembling yet?

Then, of course, Rafer was even more excited at the prospect of being able to actually ask Tiger a question. He was practically drooling. I didn't watch the press conference, but I did just spend about 15 minutes of my life that I'll never get back reading a large portion of the transcript on CNN's website. There was very little of interest to me in the transcript. He's still sorry. He's still undergoing therapy for his "problem." He's still trying to hold his family together (and, no, Elin won't be at the Masters). He's taken Ambien and Vicodin in the past but neither contributed to the car wreck last year. He loves being back on the golf course. He appreciates the support he's received from his fans and his friends. Blah, blah, blah.

I don't care.

It's that simple. I don't care about this man and his infedelity. If anything, I'm fascinated by the media's fascination with him and his indiscretions. Are there really hundreds of thousands - millions even - of people who care about this? Who can't seem to eat their morning toast or bagel without their daily dose of Tiger? Is he really that GGGRRRREEEAAAATTTT?? Is the media's unending coverage of Tiger Woods a result of demands of an insatiable public, or does the public become insatiable because the media insists on cramming their Tiger bytes down our throats?

I am tired of being force-fed this particular brand of breakfast, lunch, dinner, and late-night snack.

He's a man. He's made mistakes that hurt his family badly, but he didn't hurt me. My day moves along quite well - splendidly, actually - without any Tiger updates. Why, oh why, oh why won't they stop? And please, tell me who cares. Isn't there anything more important, more worthwhile, going on in the world than this?

Trail #2

2010-03-31T15:17:00.005-04:00

There isn't a day goes by that I don't wish I was full time at work. However, on days like today, when I get to leave work at 1:00 in the afternoon, when the sun is shining and the temps are in the (say it with me!) upper 70s, I do smile at the glass-half-full side of being part-time.

I've been trying to motivate myself to start exercising again, so I started walking a couple days ago, covering several blocks in town. Yesterday, my schedule didn't work out as well, and I didn't make it outside. (Bad Odie!) Today, I knew I had to get out in that sunshine. Instead of heading out on the sidewalk, though, I decided to drive to the state park and walk one of those trails.

Because I hadn't had lunch yet and was hungry, I chose one of the trails closest to the park's entrance so that I could get parked and get walking. It was already 1:30 by the time I got out of the car.

Trail #2 is not just a hiking trail, it's also a horse trail. Our state park is very horse-friendly, so the horse trails get used a lot. I knew it was a shared trail, but I didn't anticipate that being an issue. It was, but probably not for the reason you might be thinking. (I didn't step in, or have to dodge anything stinky.)

The ground under the trail I'd chosen had a high concentration of sand mixed in it. Four-legged hikers, shod in iron shoes, had churned up the soil so that it reminded me of walking on the beach. In many places, the trail sank between banks almost a foot high of the same sandy soil, and all of it was covered in dead, dry leaves. It was not an easy walk (which is good news, on the exercise front).

As I chugged up the trail, wallowing in the horses' footsteps, I glanced at the forest floor that ran beside the soft trail, and I thought, "I bet it'd be easier to walk there. It looks flatter, smoother, less beach-like." So, I tried it, with "try" being the key word.

The ground beside the trail wasn't as churned up as the trail itself, so my feet didn't sink into the sand. Unfortunately, there were lots of little switches and branches with briars growing along the trail, so I traded my sand-filled shoes for scratches on my legs. I also found it difficult to stay off the trail. My feet were constantly slipping down the little banks and slopes - the leaves worked against me and the sandy ground kept eroding. It was more work - and more painful - trying to stay off the trail than it was to stay on it.

It dawned on me, as I tried to avoid the overused path and blaze my own - parallel to, yet different from the established one - that it was a great symbol for life choices. Some people choose to follow the herd, to stay on the chartered path, even when the path isn't exactly what they thought it would be. They follow it diligently and usually end up right where they thought they would. They measure their success in reaching the desired destination.

Then there are those who refuse to walk in others' footsteps, who fight to make their own way, who stumble and fall and wear themselves out in an effort to do it differently. Sometimes, they fully abandon the established trail and forge into the wilderness with little more than a good pair of boots and a backpack full of hope. Sometimes, these wanderers blaze a trail others can't help but follow; once in a while, the mavericks simply get lost. Whether they end up at a predetermined destination or discover a whole new world, they measure their success in the journey they took to get there.

I think I'm a little bit of both. I like to know where I'm going, and I like the comfort that comes from knowing there's a path that will get me there. At the same time, though, I want to make my mark on the world. I want my footprints to stand out from the rest, somewhere along the path I'm walking.

I came out of the woods where I planned to today - with sand in my shoes and scratches on my legs.

No Idol left behind

2010-03-30T21:10:00.005-04:00

I think anyone who reads my blog knows that I'm a teacher. I also hope that those who know that about me also believe I work really hard at my job and love spending time in the classroom with the kids. I try to see the best in each of them and to encourage them to be their very best.

That being said, I don't like the No Child Left Behind act passed by the federal government years ago. It basically says that every child can succeed in all academic areas - that every child can master algebra for one thing. No they can't. That doesn't mean they can't succeed at anything, but it does mean that not everyone is going to be successful (to the same degree) in school. Common sense should tell us that, shouldn't it?

Know why I'm thinking about this tonight? I'm watching American Idol. The judges (with the exception of Simon), the audience, and Ryan, they all seem incapable of telling many of the contestants that singing should not be their chosen profession. They don't want to tell them the truth: Pick another path. Choose another dream. But please, for all of our sakes, STOP SINGING!!!

Why are they so reluctant to just say that? Why do they have to cushion the blows by saying, "We love YOU, but that song choice was bad." Or this one, "You've got mad skills, dawg. This was just an off night." No. They can't sing. They can't hit the key they're aiming for and they're hurting my ears.

Now, again, I'm generalizing. I could listen to Crystal Bowersox all night. I'm not a fan of Big Mike, but he hit it out of the park tonight, IMHO. Lee Dwyze was good and (thank God!!) Andrew was great! I think these people prove my point. Some can do it. Some can't. We can't all be stars.

But what I'm wondering about Idol and about No Child Left Behind is this: Is this what society is pushing? Let's prop everyone up. Let's make all of these special arrangements to make everything and everyone equal. That way, everyone can feel good about themselves.

Except that's not real life, is it?

We aren't all equal. We aren't all good at the same things. We aren't all winners at everything. That doesn't mean that we can't have pride in ourselves. That doesn't mean that we shouldn't push ourselves. That doesn't mean we can't excel - it just means we should be honest with ourselves and with each other about what we're really good at.

I'm sure we've all got mad skills for something, dawg, but jeez, could ya just get off the stage? I want a "vote off" number, please....

Teacher stories

2010-03-30T14:30:00.002-04:00

Hi everyone! For lots of reasons, I'm hoping you will all be willing to tell me who your favorite teacher was (or teachers were) and why? What did they do that makes them stay in your memories? It would also be awesome if these were teachers that you learned from too!! Anyway, if you'll share your stories, I'd be very grateful!! THANKS!!

My two daughters

2010-03-29T20:13:00.004-04:00

I have the rare opportunity to see my daughter in her environment at school (because it's where I work), and it's truly fascinating seeing her in her element there. She's the same Tori I see at home, yet she's not. I know many of you who have children know what I mean, and if they're too young yet to fully grasp it, don't worry - one day all too soon you will.

Tori is the light of my life. She makes me laugh. She fills me with pride. She astonishes me with her wit, her wisdom, and her insight. And every day she brings love to my life. At home, she is familiar to me.

I know what jokes she'll laugh at on TV because they're usually the same ones I laugh at. I know when she'll roll her eyes at Terry because I'm usually rolling mine as well. I anticipate the light in her eyes when she's talking about band or guard or ... Jimmy. I hate the frowns and the tears I've witnessed when friends fail her.

This is my daughter.

Some other creature inhabits her body at school . . . and I don't mean that in a bad way. It's quite interesting, actually.

Tori at school doesn't see me when I'm standing twenty or thirty feet away from her in the hall. It's not that she's ignoring me - I'm just not on her radar. She's still on mine - how else would I be able to tell you that I'm the invisible mother? I watch her come down the stairs, gabbing a mile a minute to her friends, laughing loudly enough sometimes that I can hear her.

I teased her a couple days ago about wanting to chaperone the prom this year because she's going for the first time. I told her how cool I thought it would be if we got to share that "first" of hers together - all night. (It was all tongue-in-cheek, of course, and she knew that - I think!) She made it very clear to me that I was not wanted nor was I needed at the prom. If I was asked to chaperone, she said I had to turn them down. She was denying me entrance into that part of her world. I laughed at her as she squirmed, trying to figure out if I was serious about wanting to come. The daughter-Tori didn't want to hurt my feelings. The school-Tori doesn't care about my feelings. That girl does not want me at that party.

And that's okay with me.

Our kids have to grow up. They have to become individuals and live their own lives. It's what we want for them. It's what we hope we've prepared them to do well. When I see her in the halls at school and she doesn't see me, I know she's on her way. And she's laughing and smiling with friends as she goes.

Prom is her night. I'm staying home.

It's my money!

2010-03-22T10:56:00.006-04:00

I had to laugh at Headline News this morning. They came back from a commercial break with "iReporter" footage of people gathered outside a Utah representative's office in support of the health care bill and then different iReporter footage of people protesting it at the Capitol. After showing both of those short segments, they zoomed back to Susan Hendricks in the studio who says, "The big story of the morning is ... Tiger Woods's first interview since ... " and we all know how she finished that sentence.

Silly me, I thought the big news of the morning was the passage of the health care bill.

God knows, I don't know or understand all of the ins and outs of the behemoth of a bill. I doubt many of those who voted on it understand all of it. So this morning I went looking (not for the first time) for info on the Web about the bill. I found a great article listing 26 facts and figures about the bill, which was an excellent starting place. Click here to read it.

Within this article are links to several others, most of which I read. The best one of these, IMHO, was the one titled, "Checking the Math on Health Care" from The New York Times. Although my husband may disagree (though hopefully not before reading it - hi, honey!), it provided a balanced look at both sides and was fairly indepth.

Since Terry lost his job in June 2008, he and I have been without medical coverage. I'm only a part-time teacher and do not have medical coverage available to me. If I were full-time, it would cost us more than $700 a month to insure our family. Terry is self-employed now, and we have looked at independent policies, but they cost more (anywhere from $350-$500+ per month) than we can afford right now.

I've been afraid that once this bill passed, we'd have to go out right away and buy insurance. After reading these articles I've mentioned here, I've discovered that's not the case. We'll simply be penalized in the future if we don't buy it. And that, my friends, is where I have a problem with the whole thing.

As soon as Obama signs this bill, we will have in place a law telling us we have to buy something (health insurance) and that if we don't buy it, the government will penalize us for our refusal. That is a scary slope to start down, don't you think?

There are other implications that my non-economist brain doesn't completely grasp. Larger corporations will be affected if they aren't providing health care coverage to their employees as will the wealthier segment of our population when they have to pay Medicare taxes on their capital gains. What those effects will be, no one knows.

State governements will be affected, and we know the state of our state governments right now, don't we? (There's good information in that NYT article about the effects on the states and the handouts they're already looking for....)

There are a lot of unknowns when it comes to ObamaCare. Here's what I do know. I know that 219 members of the House voted for the bill while 212 voted against it. With such a tiny margin in favor, I know that I abhor the way the bill was pushed through and will be watching closely to see whether the courts believe it was constitutional.

I also know that now the government has the right to tell me I have to spend my money on something I can't afford and that if I don't, I'll be penalized.

I am certain that I don't like THAT.

I miss Aibileen, Minny, and Miss Skeeter!!

2010-03-18T17:26:00.003-04:00

Kathryn Stockett's THE HELP is one of the most memorable books I've read in a long time. I read a review of it in Entertainment Weekly when it first came out. The review was a rave, but the description of the book was vague enough that I just didn't "get it." I put it on my list of "read when nothing else is jumping off the shelf at me." Stupid, stupid, stupid. I can't believe I waited a YEAR to read this book!

THE HELP intertwines the lives of black women working as domestic help for white, upperclass women in Jackson, Mississippi in the early (think early Civil Rights Era) 1960s. Aibileen is in her 50s and has been working for white families since she was a teenager. She's strong, quietly proud, and tender in the care she takes of the white children she's hired to raise. In stark contrast to Aibileen is Minny, fifteen years younger than the older (and often wiser) Aibileen. Because of her sharp tongue, Minny has a hard time keeping a job, and the needs of her large family and abusive husband demand that she work. But it's not just her mouth that gets Minny in trouble, it's the Terrible.Awful.Thing she did that haunts her footsteps.

Eugenia "Skeeter" Phelan grew up on a cotton plantation that her father sweats over from sunup to sundown and that her mother lords over from the family home. The Phelans also had a black maid when Skeeter was growing up, but the mystery of her beloved Constantine's departure from the Phelan household goes unsolved for a large portion of the book. When Skeeter finds out what happened to Constantine, it personally reinforces for her the theme of the book she's been writing with the help of Aibileen and Minny. The book that provides the first honest, open look at what it's like for a black woman to work for a white family in Jackson before Civil Rights took hold. Some of it is as horrible as you'd think it would be. Some of it illustrates how close people can grow to each other, even when society works hard to keep them separate. The book Skeeter, Aibileen, and Minny construct is called HELP.

Stockett grew up in Jackson, Mississippi. Her family had a black woman who worked for them for many, many years. While the fictitious Minny is famous for her caramel cakes, Demetrie actually baked them for Stocketts. THE HELP is a novel, but the honesty of it is undeniable. The characters are so real, I long to find them somewhere, invite them over for a cup of coffee, and continue getting to know them. I am not ready to let go of them, and I know I will reread this book over and over. It doesn't matter that I know what happens.

I want to hear Aibileen tell Mae Mobley what a wonderful girl she is again. I want to hear Minny tell the story again about the Terrible.Awful.Thing. I want to see Skeeter crouched in the pantry, the phone to her ear, taking a chance to do something that might just change the world she lives in, if it doesn't kill her, Aibileen, and Minny first.

I will read it again. You need to read it. Now.

Imagine this...

2010-03-01T18:38:00.003-05:00

I almost started this blog last week and then thought, "No, you're being an old crone. Don't write that." But I just finished reading a review in Entertainment Weekly of a new video game called Heavy Rain, and the same idea came back to me. So, old crone or not, I'm going to lament a little. Let me know if you are commiserating with me or if you think I need to start looking for a walker.

I'm a big fan of the imagination. When I was little (elementary school age), my friends and I played all sorts of games. We turned the big propane tank outside my house into horses and became cowgirls. My best friend and I ran around her house, over a fence, into the dog kennel, and back over the fence because we were cops chasing the bad guys. Diane Bauer (rest in peace) and I were ElectroWoman and DynaGirl in the gym at school during recess. Other than the propane tank, none of us really had props or costumes - just our imaginations, and they took us so many places.

I also use my imagination when I read. For as long as I can remember, reading has been one of my favorite pastimes. I imagine the settings and characters in my mind and hold onto those images as I read. That's one of the reasons I'm always reticent to see the movie version of a book I've read - I'm afraid the "motion picture" will pale in comparison to the one I've created for myself.

I've contended for a long time that one of the reasons our kids' critical thinking skills aren't what we want them to be is that so little is asked of their imaginations anymore. As they're growing, they aren't always asked to think for themselves as much as we used to be. Video games are so realistic now that they immerse you in fantasy worlds as you become a character within those worlds. No imagination required. It's all right there in front of your face.

I mentioned that I thought about writing this blog a week ago. I'd just read an article in EW (yes, I love that magazine) about the future of movies - specifically the future of movies in 3D. The general consensus from that article is that we will eventually see all movies in 3D. The phenomenom was related to the transition from black-and-white movies to color. At first, color movies were a treat and only a few were made. Then, they became more common, even though black-and-white ones were still being shot. Now, as we all know, color is the common medium. Following that logic, I can believe that eventually all we'll have is 3D.

My problem with this is the same as the one I mentioned regarding video games. We will need even less of an imagination - or, if you prefer, we'll use our imaginations even less - when we are completely immersed in the movies we go to see.

I fear we're becoming more and more apathetic and uninvolved. Our imaginations aren't as necessary as they used to be. They aren't being used enough, so that when situations arise where they would benefit us, we don't even know enough about them to call them up. And that just makes me sad.

Starting school after Labor Day?

2010-02-26T11:23:00.003-05:00

There are a lot of changes coming to education in Indiana - actually to almost every state in the country - but I live and teach here, my daughter goes to school here, so it's Indiana I'm concerned about.

On Tuesday this week, the state senate passed HB 1367 with some amendments of their own. It is my understanding that the biggest portion of HB 1367 is dedicated to giving school corporations more discretion as to how to spend their money, i.e. money can be moved from fund to fund. I see this as a good thing. If a corporation has enough money to build a new gym but not enough to keep its lights on or pay its teachers, it ought to be able to transfer money from the building fund to the operating costs fund. Makes sense, right?

One of the amendments the senate added to HB 1367 mandates that children cannot be passed on to fourth grade if they can't read at a third grade level. This seems to me like a no-brainer, but evidently there is evidence this is happening. Personally, I think we need to work on remediation much sooner. It's not as though a child hits third grade and suddenly can't read. However, I do know that I've had way too many children in middle school (and yes, high school) who don't read as well as they should, so the problem is out there. If your child is lagging behind, if you're worried about your child's progress but you don't believe your child's teacher is worried about it, speak up. Ask questions. Be an advocate for your child. I think we need these things - remediation and more parent involvement - more than we need a law like this, but that's just me.

Another amendment the senate tacked on to HB 1367 is to begin the school year AFTER Labor Day. The state (I'm quite sure) is still going to require 180 days in the school year, so the year will extend well into June if it doesn't start until September. I have one major issue with this, but in talking to my students about it in depth yesterday, they brought up many more.

My issue has to do with ISTEP. Currently, the ISTEP is given in two sections. The first section is being given next week - the first week of March - when we still have three months of school left. The second section is given the end of April or first of May, when most schools still have at least a month left. As (hopefully) any parent or teacher knows, these tests are incredibly important for all involved. A student's success on the test influences his assignment to future classes and grade levels. ISTEP scores are going to very soon begin influencing teacher evaluations and job retention. Students' cumulative scores influence the corporation's evaluation by the state and affect how much or how little state intervention the corporation receives.

When these tests are given at a point in the school year when there are still months of instruction left, it is unavoidable that there will be some standards left unaddressed. There simply isn't enough time before the tests to get to everything - to teach it well and ensure student understanding. English - my area - is probably the easiest to try and cover all of the core standards before testing because so many of them are used throughout the year. However, we're on the trimester system, so the students I have now, I have only had for a week. They have only had one-half of eighth grade English so far. So have I taught all of eighth grade standards to my satisfaction to those students yet? I certainly haven't. Give me another three months and it will be a different conversation. Even if I had had them all year, I would still be concerned about a few of the standards. There just isn't enough time.

Now, think about science (which is tested in fourth and sixth grade), social studies (which is tested in fifth and seventh grade), and math (which is tested in all grades 3-8). Math and science build throughout the year, right? What do you suppose those kids have yet to be exposed to when they still have months to go in the year? Regarding social studies, students are taught Indiana history in fourth grade. How far will they have gotten by March?

The ISTEP tests what students should know at the end of each year, but they are given before we reach the actual end of the year. Now, we push the end of the school year into June, so, if we don't move the testing dates, what do you suppose will happen to the ISTEP scores? That's my main concern. It took a Herculean effort to move that test from the fall to spring a year ago. How long do you think it will take to move it again?

The students' concerns were no less valid, even if they weren't quite as academically centered. The athletes are concerned about playing seasons. Will fall sports seasons be shortened? Will they be playing football in the snow, or in 30-degree temperatures? Many young athletes today play in summer leagues whose seasons kick into high gear in May and June. Those who plaly in these leagues are concerned about the effect this new school year will have on their ability to participate in those leagues.

Another concern was for 4-H members. Most 4-H fairs take place in July, which means members are incredibly busy during June completing projects for the fair. If school lasts into the second or third week of June, they fear they won't have the necessary time to complete their proejcts.

This proposed change to the school year is far-reaching in its ramifications. As usual, I'm worried that the people considering the change are people who are clueless when it comes to actually working in education or are people who are influenced by strong lobbyists.

The whole point of this post is to let you know that it isn't a done deal. The bill passed the senate by a vote of 31-19, so it has strong support in the senate. However, it was sent back to the house for reconsideration because of the amendments the senate added. If you have an opinion about the bill, get a hold of your local legislators. Tell them how you feel.

I'm going to.

Courage

2010-02-18T19:32:00.002-05:00

Courage looks different to everyone. It can even look different to you on one day that it does another day. Let me tell you what it looked like to me today.

Today was the last day of our trimester. Yesterday, one of my classes revised essays they wrote last week, so I took them home and graded them last night. When I returned them to the kids today, I also delivered the news that they were going to have to stand up in front of the class and read them. I heard the expected moans and groans, as well as the, "Do we have to?" questions. Yes, they had to.

There are several English standards that require the students to speak or present in front of their classmates. Luckily, our school also has a communications class that covers many of these standards, but I like to try and incorporate a little of it in English. It's hard for most kids to get up in front of their peers and do this, I know, but I chose today's essay because it wasn't a personal one. It was about a book they had all read, so the topic wouldn't be embarrassing for them to talk about in front of others, and they would gain some (a little) public speaking experience.

I called the kids up alphabetically and everyone participated good-naturedly. The ones who were sitting and listening actually sat and listened, being respectful and considerate in ways they often aren't when it's me up there. I was proud of them.

Then I came to a boy I'll just call "T." This boy is an odd mixture of personalities. He has a good sense of humor and will once in a while participate in discussions and read-alouds. He often has stories to share about his life, but he doesn't always do his homework. He's usually respectful. Today, though, when I called his name to read his essay, he said, "No. I'm not doing it."

I don't like to be told no.

I started to tell him he had to, that it would be insubordination if he refused, and then he started to sob. Not weep. Not tear up. He sobbed. Head down on his desk, he bawled in my classroom. My jaw hit the ground.

Another boy caught my eye and said, "This happens when he has to speak in front of the class."

I looked at T for a second or two, listening to him cry, and I said, "T, I want you to calm down and take a few breaths. I'm not going to make you do this, but I want you to think about something. Everyone in here is doing this and living through it. Everyone is being kind to each other. At some point, you're going to have to do this for school and if you don't, it will really hurt your grade. I want you to try and do it here, where no one will laugh and you can see that you can do it."

I didn't know if my words had any effect on him because his crying continued, but I hoped they had. I called the next name and three or four students took their turns. Time was running out on the class, and I noticed that T had stopped crying and was sitting up straight in his chair. He had his essay in his hand.

Before I called the next name on my list, I said, "T, are you thinking you want to try it?"

He said, "Yeah, I'm just gonna do it." The entire class clapped as he went to the front of the room.

T stood at the front of the room, read the first few words on his paper, and started crying again. Hard. He'd read a couple words, sob a little bit, wipe away his tears with his arms, and read a couple more, then cry, dab his tears, read a few more, and so on.

I told him very, very early in his attempt that he didn't have to do it. But I guess something inside him said he had to. Because he finished that essay. He sobbed all the way through it, but he finished it.

I had tears in my eyes as I watched him. I have tears in my eyes now as I type this. Several of my other students turned at various times to look at me as T struggled in front of them, their eyes as wide as mine felt, but I had no answers.

I had given him an out. He refused to take it.

When he finished, we all clapped vigorously for him. I was standing, and I'd wanted to hug him, but that never felt quite right in that moment, so I just stood where I was and clapped really hard and really long.

When the clapping died down, I said, "T, that's the bravest thing I've ever seen a student do."

I'll never forget it.

We aren't all dumbing it down

2010-02-04T17:23:00.003-05:00

I'm aggravated.

I turned Headline News on this afternoon as I often do and Chuck Roberts was soliciting opinions on a recent USA Today editorial, Our view on education: To boost graduation rates, states water down standards. My aggravation didn't sprout after I read the editorial; it came after I read comments people posted, both to the original editorial and on Chuck Roberts's Facebook page.

I will not argue the fact that some school districts, even some whole school systems in certain states, are struggling to maintain their academic standards. But even in those states whose numbers - graduation rates, test scores, etc. - are less than exemplary, I am certain there are school districts here and there that are doing it right and doing it well.

I have worked in five different school districts in Indiana. In every single one of them, I worked with teachers who care and who go above and beyond their contractual duties to help - often PUSH - their students to succeed. I have had the privilege of working for principals and superintendents who are constantly looking for and procuring the best for their students - the best teachers, the best methods, the best equipment and materials, the best facilities - that their funding allows.

But all of this - all of us - are tangled up in so much red tape that the general public (at least those who were posting on Facebook) doesn't take into consideration when they rant about greedy teachers, or school communities that don't care or that care only about numbers and statistics.

No Child Left Behind began the establishment of national standards for education. I believe the impetus behind this act was to help bring the US up to the academic levels of some other nations. That national act spawned (here in Indiana) Public Law 221 (and similar state laws across the country). These standards (which are stupefyingly long and involved) are what we teachers, as licensed state employees, are required to teach to our students. Our employers, the school districts, are responsible for holding us accountable for teaching those standards.

Everything is tied to the standards. Everything.

The standardized tests evaluate students' mastery of the standards. Their individual scores on those tests determine whether or not the students graduate from high school. The overall student scores on those tests determine a school's "success" rate which in turn determines the level of government involvement in the management of the school district, the funding provided to the school district, and - at its most extreme - the existence of the school district. Soon those scores will also help determine whether or not I keep my job (regardless of the motivation level of my students, parental involvement, and plain academic ability).

If the general public isn't happy with what the students are being taught there are several things they should do rather than rant on social networking sites about how terrible things are in the school system. They should acquaint themselves with their state's standards. (I wonder how many of those who were posting such negative comments even know what these standards are.) They should take an active part in their school community. So many of them said that our country is going downhill because of our educational system. If that's what they believe is true - get involved, get educated, and ask what can be done to help.

We educators have so many responsibilities to so many different people it's unbelievable. How many bosses does an average employee have? I have more than I can count. I am answerable to my principal, my superintendent and my school board. I am answerable to the parents' of my students. But most importantly, I am answerable to the kids who sit in my room every day and count on me to prepare them for the tests they will face in their lives - academic tests and life tests as well. And I can tell you this - I go into every day prepared for the challenge and I do it (almost every day) with a smile on my face. I love my job, and I'm tired of listening to people who don't have a clue run it down.

Llamas, opossums, and cats, oh my

2009-11-16T19:16:00.002-05:00

Today was a great example of why I love teaching eighth graders.

We began a poetry unit last week, and there are several terms I have to try and get pounded into their brains for our state standards. We've talked about rhythm and rhyme, couplets, and free verse. At the end of the week last week, one of them asked about Haikus. We talked about those for a while, and some of them mentioned that they enjoyed writing them in elementary school. They asked if I'd accept a Haiku from them for extra credit. (Haikus are not in the eighth grade standards.) I said that'd be awesome, if some of them wanted to give it a go. Some said they would.

At that point, I grinned at them and said if I was evil, I'd make them write a sonnet - another type of poetry they need to be able to recognize. Well, they wanted to know why that would be so hard, and, of course, if there would be MORE extra credit available to them if they wrote one of those. I grinned bigger.

I laid out for them all of the requirements of a sonnet. 14 lines. Rhyme scheme: abab cdcd efef gg. Iambic pentameter. Their eyes were as big as saucers and their mouths hung open. When they could speak again, they said, "Please don't make us do that, Mrs. Honeycutt!" I promised them I wouldn't, even confessed I'd never tried to write one myself.

Then it happened.

"Mrs. Honeycutt!" came a shout from the back. "I want to try!" And then, a second later, a voice from the front, "I want to too!"

I grinned again. And said, "Okay."

If they get it done, and get it done right, they'll get some decent extra credit points. But do you see the magic of the middle schooler?

I set before them a very difficult task. I told them they didn't have to do it. I even told them that I'd never done it. And some of them bit.

"I'm up to the challenge!" one boy said. And I do believe he is. Before class was over, he'd started his sonnet. He said it's about llamas and opossums. The other boy who told me he's going to try is writing one about his cats. How can that not brighten your day?

How many times as adults do we still say, "I'm up to the challenge!" with a wide grin on our faces, looking forward to the work? Not as often as maybe we should.

My middle schoolers energize me. (Thank God, because they also drain my energy on an hourly basis!!) I love that part of them - their willingness to jump in feet first, and to smile as they go.

This Is It - It definitely would have been

2009-10-29T19:01:00.005-04:00

People who know me well (or who knew me when...) will not be surprised that I went to see This Is It yesterday when it opened. For those of you who don't recognize the movie by its title, it's the footage from Michael Jackson's rehearsals for his last concert series scheduled for London's O2 Theatre this year.

From interviews I've listened to and read, I believe MJ gave the concert this name because he intended for it to be his crowning achievement, a lasting legacy for his children and his fans. This girl believes it definitely would have been.

I was fortunate enough to see Michael in his heyday - 1988 for his Bad tour. (I still have the ticket stub - I paid a whopping $25 for the experience. Think of that....) He was everything you'd expect, and I remember the feeling I had just being in the same building with him. No matter what else you say about the man, you have to acknowledge his creative genius.

Bad was the last album of his that I bought. I didn't continue to follow him, except for the snippets of news I would get nightly on TV or in the headlines of my local paper. I was never able to form an opinion as to what I thought about the allegations of molestation that plagued him in the recent past. The teenager that fawned over him in the '80s couldn't conceive of the idea that he would hurt anyone. The mother I am now shivered at the thought of what he might have done with those kids. All I know is that the criminal case foundered and he was never convicted of anything. I know his wealth would have been a beacon to unscrupulous people looking to make some money. Really, it doesn't matter what I think about that, does it?

The fact remains that a performer I was fanatical about as a teenager died so much sooner than he should have, taking his genius with him. Kind of. Because what we have left - This Is It - is a wonderful celebration of Michael at his best. The concert would have been phenomenal - amazing stage sets, new films shot to play behind his live performance on stage, choreography worthy of the King of Pop - and I would have paid several hundred dollars to see it. Thousands of people already had when he died.

This Is It does not exploit Michael Jackson. It does what he wanted his concert series to do: It plants him firmly back at the top of the pop charts. It gives us one more look at the performer who broke records - and hearts when he died - all around the world. It gives us a chance to remember him at his best.

And when it comes down to it, isn't that what all of us want when our time's up? To leave the best of ourselves behind? Michael did that. This Is It is it.

The flour baby

2009-10-09T17:50:00.005-04:00

My daughter is a sophomore and is currently taking the one required trimester of health. It's been an interesting week in that class, for both of us.

On Tuesday, I had to go to the store to buy a five-pound bag of flour which she promptly named Kadence Lily. Yes, she named a sack of flour. Why? you ask. Because for a week she has to pretend it's a baby. It - sorry, Kadence - goes to school with her on Monday, and then she drops her baby off at "daycare," which is her health teacher's room, for the day. When she's performing next weekend with her marching band, guess who gets to babysit. Oh, yes, Grandma Sharon. I am expected to take that sack of flour - sorry again, Kadence - to the competition and sit with it in the bleachers while I watch my daughter perform. I've already scouted the territory of, "Well, what if I just leave it - her - at home? Who's going to know?"

"MOM!" my daughter responded with mock indignation. "You have to take her!"

Yes, my daughter knows it's not a REAL baby. (Even if we did buy some onesies to dress it in. She swears she's not the only one doing that, and I do believe her.) But she wants this to be an authentic experience. She wants to play her part, so I have to play mine out of respect for her. (I'm taking a big tote bag to the band competition and Kadence is going to be at the bottom of that.)

Today, she came home from school and said that she'd been given a handout with diagrams that demonstrated how to do a breast exam on herself.

"Mom, it was an old woman with real saggy boobs and that's just wrong! I didn't need to see that!" We had a good laugh over it. (Especially too, because the handouts had been miscopied and on the flip side were diagrams demonstrating the proper method for checking oneself for testicular cancer. Imagine that in the hands of a 15-year-old girl.)

But after we got done chuckling, I talked to her about how important those self checks can be, and how frustrating they can be. It's difficult to know - at least for me - what's just me and what might be the beginnings of a cancerous tumor. I told her that if she actually started doing them now, maybe by the time that the threat of cancer is a lot more real for her, she'll have a much better idea as to what is her and what isn't. Practice surely helps.

Which got me thinking . . . Isn't that what we, as parents, try to do with our kids? Aren't we trying to teach them - while we have them under the safety of our own roofs - how to handle the twisted, slippery roads of life, both through our own experiences and theirs, as they grow? Don't we want them to practice their decision making skills so that hopefully when they're out on their own they will have honed those skills well enough that they'll keep themselves (relatively) safe, happy, and healthy? Of course that's what we're trying to do.

So bring on the flour babies. I'll babysit Kadence Lily whenever she asks.

Regrets

2009-10-05T12:33:00.002-04:00

My daughter and I were talking about serious matters last night, about choices we make in life, about the choices I hope she makes.

I've been honest with her about my life as a teenager in the hopes that maybe she won't make some of the same mistakes I made, that she won't live with some of the same regrets.

She told me she doesn't believe in regret. I responded, "That's only because you haven't lived as long as I have."

I went on to say that I think having regrets is healthy. Our regrets are evidence that we made mistakes, that if we could go back and do things over again, we'd do them differently because we've learned important lessons along the way.

She said that she believes in learning lessons from mistakes, but that you shouldn't dwell on the mistakes, that you shouldn't let them consume you and define who you are. In her mind, regret equals wallowing. I realized that in essence, we were on the same page.

Like her mother, she will make mistakes, and she will (hopefully) learn from them. My regret is that I haven't been able to prevent her from making them in the first place.

For another perspective on this theme, visit Billy Coffey's blog entry, The great front yard experiment. I love the way this guy writes.

What is she thinking?

2009-09-14T17:50:00.002-04:00

Teaching the age group that I do (12-14 year olds), I witness my share of broken hearts and the tears, anger, frustration, and doubt that go with them. There are a lot of similarities between a young girl's heartbreak and a grown woman's. The biggest differences are the girls' lack of experience and the thickness of their skin.

When we watch a young woman struggle with a difficult relationship - whether she's our daughter, our sister, or a student we care about - we offer our best advice, a strong shoulder, and a few tissues. Then we hope that she'll learn and grow from the experience, that maybe the next time around she'll choose a better boyfriend, someone who will show her more respect, or treat her with more kindness.

I really think, though, the best we can do for her, in the long run, is just be there for her. We need to reinforce our belief in her, that she is someone deserving of respect, that she is a person of consequence. If she sees that we believe that of her, she'll believe it of herself and she'll be more likely to kick someone to the curb who isn't treating her well.

One of my students today told me about her weekend. She and her boyfriend have been together for four years. (Can you believe that? She's in eighth grade!) This weekend was their anniversary. He stood her up the whole weekend - didn't show up when he told her he would on Saturday or Sunday. He lied to her about why he didn't come see her. She said he does it all the time. I asked her how she could possibly stay with someone like that and she said, "You don't understand. We've been together for four years." As if that was an acceptable excuse.

I was at a loss. I told her she deserves more respect than that. I told her if she keeps accepting his behavior, he'll keep treating her the same way. But I think it fell on deaf ears. She's a beautiful girl and a good student. She's sweet and kind to other students in the class. She exudes confidence, but obviously, it doesn't run to her core. There's something inside her that makes her believe she isn't worth anything better than what he's giving her.

Yes, she's an eighth grader. Yes, we adults know that these young loves are rarely as significant to our lives as they seem to be at the time. But what concerns me is her willingness to be treated as she is. When will that change? What will have to happen before she realizes she deserves better? That pattern needs to be broken, and now, if you ask me.

Who is going to help her do that? I only have her for an hour a day.

It's the little things

2009-09-11T22:10:00.005-04:00

My husband and I have been living a credit-crunched life for a while now, as have millions of other people all over the world, so there are many things we don't do that we used to, items we leave on the shelves that we used to put in the cart (even if it was a virtual cart - we do love the Internet and Amazon). But we do still allow ourselves little luxuries once in a while to perk us up, to celebrate a good day.

For example, my fingernails are currently painted with "Plum Seduction." I just did them tonight. (I've never, ever gone looking for a manicure - never had acrylics - nothing. So that's not a luxury I'm missing.) Tori and I went to CVS yesterday to pick up a few things and the makeup section reeled us in pretty quickly. Fingernail polish was on sale, so I bought a couple new colors. (The other is "Red Hot Tomato." I'm saving it for next week.) I like fun colors on my nails and this one definitely is. It was a quick and inexpensive little treat. (Tori got new lipstick, in case you're wondering.)

The other type of treat we often indulge in comes in a variety of colors, sizes, and weights - BOOKS. We all three devour them. I have been using my library card a lot more in the last year or so and not buying as many books as I have in the past. And you know, I've found that I get as much enjoyment out of reading a good borrowed book as I do from owning one. But once in a while, there's just one that I have to have. Plus, I'm a wanna-be author who hopes that people will want to own her books when they're actually on shelves somewhere, and not just borrow them from the library. The Literary Guild had a good sale a couple weeks ago. I bought two and got one free, plus shipping was nominal. I got A Bad Day for Sorry (which EVERYONE is raving about) by Sophie Littlefield, The Birthing House by Christopher Ransom, and Wicked Prey by John Sandford. I'm halfway through Wicked Prey and loving it. Treating myself once in a while to little things like new, playful makeup and highly anticipated books really does make me happy.

But you know what makes me happiest? When my husband comes home safely from another sales call. When my daughter bursts out of the school doors at the end of the day with a smile on her face and stories to tell me at 100 mph. When my five-year-old nephew comes running at me, grinning - my name on his lips, and ready to play. When my mom and dad hug. When my brother smiles - or laughs.

It really is the little things that make me the happiest - and the most grateful that I share this life with these people.

Mean people really do suck

2009-09-09T20:17:00.002-04:00

Most of us have seen the bumper sticker or the window decal. Whenever I see it, I nod my head in agreement, thinking, "Yep, they sure do." But you know, it's really true. Mean people suck.

I mean, we've all probably been guilty of being mean to someone in our lives. I know I have. I regret it, and I hope I've managed to apologize and make amends to the people I've hurt. But see, that's the thing. Most of us, when we're mean or spiteful and we hurt someone, we say, "I'm sorry" because we really are. We regret our words and our actions that were often said and done with tempers flaring. Hurting people doesn't give us pleasure, doesn't make us feel good about ourselves. Quite the opposite, right? We end up feeling ashamed and remorseful.

But mean people are different. Mean people set out to hurt others. They take pleasure in causing others pain. Usually, I think they feel the people they are hurting deserve the pain that's being inflicted. And I think there are very few people in the world who deserve to be hurt.

What I don't understand is why people choose to live their lives this way. Why would you choose to be mean and spiteful? The people I know who fall into this category are negative about so many aspects of their lives. They infect others around them and suck the joy out of life.

I think we ought to pity mean people. They're missing out on so much of the goodness life has to offer. I wonder if, when they're approaching the end of their days and taking a look at the world they created for themselves, if they have any regrets. Sadly, I bet most of them don't.

We won!

2009-09-05T11:12:00.003-04:00

Last night was another home football game. Fans and spectators filled the stands again sporting their best maroon and white sportswear. There was reason to cheer - and cheer loudly. Cowbells clanged as our team scored touchdown after touchdown. The final score was 40-6; we tromped 'em. I actually began to feel a little sorry for our opponents. After all, last week, it was us.

We've been back in school for more than two weeks now. It's my first year teaching at the local middle school - the same middle school my daughter attended a few years ago. Although I felt somewhat familiar with the building and some of the teachers when the year started, I am now feeling much more a part of the whole community.

They aren't my students (yet) out there on the football field, or in the marching band, or even in the cheerleader outfits, although I do know some of them because of my daughter. But it will only be another year or two before I will be able to look at the rosters and say, "He was the class clown the year I had him," or "She wrote the funniest stories!" Those connections will be there; they're already sprouting.

As I walked past the student section of the bleachers at half time, I heard, "Mrs. Honeycutt!!" I looked over and into the stands and there were three or four of my eighth graders, grinning from ear to ear and waving enthusiastically at me. I grinned and waved back, then found myself waving and saying hi to several more of them as I walked. Even the young girl who, I believe, is developing an enviable dry, sarcastic wit, waved discreetly at me. (She'd told me earlier in the day that if she saw me at the game and didn't wave, it was because she hadn't seen me.) I smiled at her and waved discreetly back.

We all go to those games for different reasons, remember? I went last night because my daughter performed and because it's a community thing, and - finally - I'm really feeling more and more a part of that whole. Once my daughter graduates, I'm still going to have reasons to sit in the stands and yell for the team.

I need to get a cowbell.

I've got a bite

2009-09-02T22:07:00.003-04:00

I recently joined Facebook, so when I get home from work these days, my inbox is usually fuller than it used to be as I'm getting lots of notices about postings from my friends.

However, as I was scanning the list of new mail, one caught my eye and I held my breath. It was an email from an agent I had queried the end of July. It wasn't a reply to the email I had sent her. It was a new one. Could it be.....?

YES!! She wrote that she'd read the three sample chapters I'd sent her as well as the synopsis and she wants to read the rest of the book - if, she said, it was still available. If no other agent had snapped it out of my hands, she would like to read it.

As luck would have it, that manuscript IS still available and so I sent it off this afternoon. She emailed me back that she'd received it and would get back to me as soon as she'd had a chance to review it.

The waiting begins, again. But this waiting is so much more fun. I can daydream about her devouring my book, calling me to tell me she devoured it and wants to represent me. We'll talk about which editor she thinks will love it too and how many copies will be printed in the first run. Then, a year or so from now, I'll be able to hold in my hands a printed, bound, hardback (or heck, even a trade paperback) copy of MY BOOK!!!

Wouldn't that be wonderful?

Yes, that would be wonderful. And it is so much fun to hope.

First home game

2009-08-28T22:42:00.004-04:00

Tonight was our high school football team's first home game. The bleachers were awash in maroon and black. I bought a new T-shirt myself just yesterday for the occasion. Although it rained most of the day today, the evening was perfect for football - temps in the high 60s with a light, cool breeze.

We cheered each time the team moved the ball down the field. We booed when the other team slammed our boys with late hits - twice in the same possession. We hollered our approval when our defense kept the other team out of the endzone, and some of us even clapped with the cheerleaders.

We lost the game 28-0.

There were lots of reasons for the loss, but my point tonight has nothing to do with dissecting plays. The biggest reason we lost is that the other team scored more points. (I stole that bit of sarcastic wit from my husband.)

What I want to focus on is that tonight's loss will more than likely have little to no effect on the attendance at the next home game. Anyone who has ever attended their local school's sporting events knows this to be true. Winning the game feels great for all involved but it isn't really why we go. At least, it isn't why most of us go.

We go to support the athletes on the field. Maybe they're related to us. Maybe they're our friends. Maybe they're our students. Or, maybe we don't know any of them at all, but we do know their parents or their grandparents. Somewhere, there's a connection between those of us in the bleachers and those on the field.

Sometimes, that connection is simply a vicarious one.

I went to the game tonight for a couple of reasons. My daughter performed with the marching band and her color guard at halftime, and I wanted my students to see me in the stands, to know I support them outside the classroom as well as inside.

But sitting there, watching the teenagers walk back and forth, back and forth, paying more attention to each other than they were to the game, I was carried back to high school. When a middle school girl stood on the ground in front of the bleachers and yelled up to a boy somewhere behind me in the stands, "Brandon, Amber likes you!" all I could do was smile. Who among us doesn't remember a similar exchange among our friends when we were thirteen or fourteen years old? And having the distance of (in my case) thirty-some years, we can smile now at the outburst rather than bury our faces in our hands in mortification.

Going to tonight's game hopefully strengthened my connections with some of my students. I know it made my daughter happy to have me there. But it also - for a moment or two - bridged several decades for me and allowed that teenager who I swear still lives inside me to take a few breaths of fresh, crisp, almost-autumn air. And it wasn't even homecoming.

What do you think?

2009-08-27T20:29:00.005-04:00

OK...I've been pitching my novel ASSUMPTION for almost three months. I've had one request for a full but no others. I've tweaked my query letter and I've submitted it to QueryShark, hoping Janet Reid (who rejected my query) will critique my query and let me know what works and what doesn't.

If she doesn't, I was wondering, would you? I'm going to post the meat of my query here in this blog. You guys tell me what you think. If you were an agent, would it make you want to read my book? Sometimes agents will ask us to include a few pages from the novel with the query, so I'll do that too.

Be honest. Tell me if it hooks you. Tell me why it does or doesn't. I'd seriously love the feedback. I'm getting ready to work on Novel #3, another foray into women's fiction I'm titling 52 WEEKENDS.

OK...here's the query.

Dessa’s home is burning. Her children are trapped inside, screaming for help. She isn’t strong enough to break the iron grip of the police chief who holds her back, who refuses to let her rush into the inferno that’s swallowing her children.

She’s never been strong enough.

So her daughter Ginny, at only fourteen years old, decides it’s up to her. If Dessa won’t save them from Killian and his violent temper, she will – with two cans of gasoline and a match.

That’s how the fire started. That’s why.

No one was supposed to be home except Killian. The blaze claims the lives of all three of Dessa’s children and any hope she has for the future. Killian, however, survives. Facing a yawning cavern of despair with nowhere to hide from all of her mistakes, Dessa decides Ginny was right. Killian needs to die. She makes her plans and loads her gun, but will she really pull the trigger? And if she does, who will she be when it’s all over?

And now...the first few (about 4) pages.

Prologue
August 15, 2003

Nothing ever happens in this town, but they still talk about that fire.

No one could believe Ginny Tillman – barely fourteen years old – had snaked gasoline through her home and struck a match to it, targeting her stepfather asleep in his bed. The feral screams – Ginny’s, Tacie’s, and Cory’s – branded those of us who watched them perish, engulfed in flames, trapped between the first and second floor.

A murderous inferno in the middle of this go-nowhere, do-nothing Illinois town grotesquely captivated its citizens. Wrinkled and gray-haired, Wendall Wallace leaned on his walker, staring at the conflagration, shaking his head in unison with his neighbor, a single mother of two that he barely acknowledged any other day. Her children, preschoolers both, clutched their mother’s legs while her arms shrouded them, talons of protection. They would never forget the wail of the sirens, the shrieks of the children – my children.

I am Dessa, and Ginny, Tacie, and Cory were mine. Ginny cloaked herself in the mantle of my responsibilities that awful August night and all I could do was watch as my children perished, and my husband ran for safety.

I am Dessa. My husband only thinks he’s safe.

Chapter One
October 28, 2001

The cake was wrong. I knew chocolate was forbidden when I snagged the mix off the shelf at Wal-Mart. I’m not sure what compelled me to do it. Maybe it was Tacie’s chubby hands clapping together and her wide grin gaping at me from the toddler’s seat in the cart. She loves chocolate, I thought to myself. She’d eat the white, argued the saner side of my psyche. Yes, went the counterattack, but she loves chocolate!

Ginny stood beside me, staring at the hem of the button-down shirt I had left untucked – thank God Killian couldn’t see me right now. When her wise, bold, blue eyes met mine, she took in the argument I was having with myself. She couldn’t hear the words, but she knew – already – at twelve years old, why my hand hesitated in mid-air, reaching for the chocolate as my gaze honed in on the plain white mix.

“Killian likes the white, Mom,” she said, verbally nudging me closer to safety. “It’s his birthday, not Tacie’s.” The meaning imbedded in her words, clearly voiced although unspoken, was Please don’t make him mad tonight.

Usually I tried to walk the peaceful path. I took the hints, I followed the clues. I tried to do what I thought he expected, hoping to protect myself physically and my children emotionally. So far, he hadn’t laid a hand on them.

But standing in Aisle 10 at Wal-Mart that day, I didn’t want to do what was expected of me. Stupid day to make a point, I know. Ginny was right. It was his birthday and everybody got to choose the cake flavor for his or her birthday. Unless, of course, Killian wasn’t in the mood for yellow when Ginny’s birthday rolled around, as he hadn’t been a few months ago. She had eaten the white cake with the white icing with a smile, telling me over and over again how delicious it was because my insightful daughter knew it had nearly killed me to make her that damn white cake.

Yes, today’s was a reckless choice, but I made it and smiled all the way to the checkout line with that chocolate cake mix in my cart. Ginny trembled walking beside me, her fists clenched at her sides. I had chosen white icing, thinking irrationally that maybe that concession to his taste would pacify Killian. It didn’t. I think it actually made it worse.

After we finished singing “Happy Birthday” to him, laughing together over the lopsided tune the way happy families are supposed to do, he cut into the cake. When he raised the knife after the first cut and it came out covered in chocolate crumbs, the light in the room disappeared quicker than when he had blown out the candles. It felt as if all of the oxygen had evaporated and I held my breath, afraid to breathe in the poison left in the air.

My husband’s hand hovered above the crevice he had cut into the cake, where he had severed the Kill– from the –ian in his name that I had written in red frosting. I focused on the first half of his name – “Kill” – and almost smiled at the irony of the blood red word as I waited for his rage to manifest itself in a closed fist. The backhand across my face caught me by surprise and knocked me to the cold tile floor.

I drew myself up onto one elbow and focused on my girls. Tacie was a cherubic statue, still kneeling on the chair at the table where I plopped her to sing the birthday song, her eyes wide and beginning to pool. I thought I heard her whimper.

No, that was you, I realized. Don’t lose it in front of the girls.

Ginny had taken one step toward me and frozen. She began to kneel while at the same time I felt Killian moving behind me. I caught Ginny’s eyes with my own and whispered, “Go!” She squinted and set her jaw, wanting so badly to rebel, to stay and fight with me. Killian stooped and twisted his fingers into my hair, pulling me across the tile. Trying not to wince or moan again with my daughters in the room, I stared into Ginny’s eyes and through clenched teeth told her one more time, “Take Tacie and go!”

Darting one dagger at her step-father, Ginny did as she was told. I watched her grab Tacie from her chair and hurry towards the back of the house to Ginny’s room. In a minute or two, my older daughter, in her role of surrogate mother to her younger sister, would have Cinderella or Beauty and the Beast singing at top volume behind a closed door.

A dream is a wish your heart makes, when it’s fast asleep, Cinderella would sing.

As Killian pulled me up to my knees by my hair and drew his free hand back to hit me again, I realized the only dream I’d had for years was simply to survive. When his smooth, strong palm connected with my face, splintering pain across my cheekbone and my nose, when I tasted blood and felt the familiar throb begin deep inside my skull, I wondered how much longer my fragile grip on that dream would hold.

So, there you have it. Any thoughts??? Anyone?? Bueller?? Bueller??
(May John Huges rest in peace)

Talk to ya later.

Medication and procrastination

2009-08-24T15:11:00.003-04:00

It's been a good Monday so far, but I have many items left on my to-do list for today. In case anyone should happen to read this who doesn't know me personally, let me tell you what I do for a living.

First, I'm a part-time middle English teacher. I've been teaching altogether for nine years - this is my tenth. I've been teaching middle school for four years, going on five now. I love the creatures that are defined as "middle school students." They are unlike any other living, breathing being on the planet and I can't imagine my work day without them. That's not to say, however, that they don't drive me stark-raving crazy sometimes!

For instance, I have a student who is seriously incapable of being still. He can't sit without tapping, rocking, or contorting himself into some form of a pretzel. He often gets up and walks around. He talks out in class when he shouldn't, and often just talks to himself. He's a pleasant boy and I truly believe he doesn't mean to cause trouble. But he does.

And this is one time when I firmly believe some medication would help the situation. I'm not one of those who wants to tranquilize every student that talks without raising her hand, or that gets out of his seat a couple times each class period to sharpen a pencil, throw something away, grab a tissue from my desk, etc. Middle school creatures are very energetic. It's in their nature and we shouldn't ask them to be otherwise.

HOWEVER, there are some conditions that require medical intervention and I think this boy is walking case study. He can't concentrate on what we're reading, so he can't answer questions when we're done. On top of that, he distracts others around him.

So, my plea to anyone who might ever read this who might have a child similar to the one I'm describing is: If your child's teachers tell you they see this type of behavior and this behavior is interfering with your child's learning, please consider a visit to the doctor. Consider an evaluation. It might make the classroom a much more pleasant place for everyone to be.

This blog's run longer than I intended so I'll be brief on the procrastination (rather than put it off for another day). In addition to teaching, I also do some freelance writing. I read business books and write summaries of them. Occasionally, these books are interesting. You can guess what they are when they aren't interesting. But they help pay the bills, so I read them and write about them.

I put off reading the one I had for July for a couple weeks because it was summer and I wanted a break. My editor was awesome about that and gave me as much time as I needed. I turned in my summary about two weeks later than I normally would have, but I had to push to get it in before school started because I'd put it off for so long. Then, I had to push hard to get ready for the first couple of days of school. I have a novel that I'm pitching and another one I'm doing background stuff for so that I can start writing it. The new novel hasn't been touched for over a month. Bad writer. Bad.

When I keep myself organized - school, freelance, home stuff (laundry, etc.), novel - then I can pretty much stay on top of everything. But I'm telling ya, vacation's a killer. (But I wouldn't trade summer break for . . . well, for a lot of things. I would trade it for an offer of representation AND a sale of my book, though.)

OK....My newest business book is lying open beside me, calling to me for attention. I owe it at least another half hour. Then there are clothes to steam, dinner to make, and papers to grade.

Oh - and a novel to pitch and one to write.

I'd better get busy.
Talk to ya soon.

Welcome to my world!

2009-08-20T16:00:00.001-04:00

A little over ten years ago when I was a newspaper reporter, I wrote a regular weekly column for that same paper, but I had a hard time coming up with a name for it. My editor suggested "Thinning the Weeds" because my last name at the time was Gardner and he said, "Besides, that's what you do in your columns."

Well, that's what I hope to do here. I'm a teacher and a writer - two (as yet unpublished) novels and the beginnings of a third. I'm hoping that if I share some thoughts from the classroom and from my attempts to write and publish my books, I'll make some connections with some of you out there, and maybe we can learn from each other. And hopefully laugh with each other.

A quick look inside my eighth-grade classroom today:
It was only the second day of classes, so I was talking to my students about why we read books. I asked them for names of books that they had read in the past and enjoyed, and I got a lot of responses. A boy said that he had liked Twilight. I asked him if it was Twilight he liked the best or the whole series. He smiled and said, "I liked the movie."
One of the other boys in the class said, "You can't read a movie!"
"You can if you turn on the subtitles!"

I couldn't argue....
Have a great day. Talk to ya soon.