the mud

Last week, after the last books had been packed, the last papers returned, the last old markers set aside for recycling, and the last of the last had been done, we said good bye to our fifth graders.  In morning graduation ceremonies, the first graders, all in their white shirts and khaki pants, stood tall, sat quietly, and sang loudly, and then it was on to the fun stuff.  We held a picnic on the playground.  The boys ate lunch on blankets and ran and yelled and sucked on popsicles and played with balloons.  Every once in a while one came in for water and asked when we were having math.  "There is no more math today.  Today is just play!"  They weren't sure whether to be happy or sad.  Finally, when the picnic was over and when they were utterly exhausted from all the festivities, I brought them in to the rug one last time.  They sat there with sweat and dirt trickling down their faces, looking now officially like second graders.  But t...

Last week I attended the very sad funeral of my cousin.  He was a firefighter.  He was an exemplary firefighter, as I learned listening to the beautiful eulogies of his friends and fellow firefighters.  Outside the funeral home, the fire engines lined up and displayed his equipment.  His jacket, his helmet, his boots.  Among all the life-saving equipment there, the oxygen masks, the ladders, the axes, the ropes, nothing could save his life.  I was caught, though, by the rope.  I had recently listened to a book on tape, Home Safe, and in it the author uses an analogy of "the hold knots on the rope of life."  Hold Knots - the things we can hold onto when life gets slippery, when life seems to be slipping out of our grip.  The thing is I can't remember what she said.  What are the hold knots of life?  Was it friends, was it laughter?  There are so many things I could plug in there.  The funny thing about a book on CD is that ...

Waiting.  It is something we learn from a very early age.  Wait.  Wait for me.  Wait for your turn.  Wait just a minute.  Wait up.  Then it evolves into waiting for news.  Waiting for a report.  Waiting rooms.  Waiting for graduation.  Waiting until they are grown up.  Waiting until this happens or that doesn't happen. Last week I was waiting for something.  I can't even remember what exactly it was.  I was in the car I think.  And suddenly this peace, excitement, this buzz came over me.  What if...?  What if I get what I want?  What if the news is good?  What if he notices me?  What if she asks me?  What if?  That is the best part of waiting.  We can have the fantasy!  We are all waiting for something.  Let the buzz set in and enjoy the wait. My students were waiting for Christmas.  Starting in late October.  I had one student tell me he was sad. ...

We are SO busy.  We can't breathe.  We can't talk.  We can't think.  We've got so much on our list.  We've got so much to DO.  It's not good.  It's the never-ending tasks that seem to put us into auto-mode, as in automaton, that we can't be creative, we can't be funny, we can't be be generous, we are just pushing through to get through.  But I'm trying.  I'm trying to keep a smile on my face and pretend that we are all under control.  And I see your smiles too.  Just stop.  Please. I was driving through north Philly this week and got stuck.  Behind a trolley.  In rush hour. The traffic light changes.  The trolley doesn't move.  The light changes again.  No one moves.  The light changes AGAIN.  Cars are honking.  Cars are trying to switch lanes and go back.  And then I see the wheelchair being lowered from the trolley car and the woman in it is clutching her bag. The trolley conduc...

Asking for what we need is important.  Asking for what we want is a Christmas tradition.  From the very best Christmas specials, It's a Wonderful Life,  and Miracle on 34th Street,  we are encouraged to ask and ask big - I mean, a House!  Really?  Yes, Virginia, really.   Go for it!  Live Big!  Dream Big! It's Christmas! It's the season of Miracles!  The new Lexus in the driveway - it happens!  All those dreams being dreamed right now, being fulfilled by little elves, from the jewelers at Tiffany's to the Toys-R-Us stock room people.  Dream and keep the dream alive!  Write the list and make it a long one!  What would your fantasy list look like, if money and time were no object?  Go ahead, write it! Even so, we temper our wants and our desires.  My children are not asking for much.  My husband and I are not exchanging gifts this year, so no lists.  Our lists to Santa have evolved into those grown...

Last weekend I was inspired to try to write for 25 days of Christmas.  I had some pretty good ideas.  I just didn't write.  And here we are 5 days later and no writing.  So this morning, in the shower, I thought, maybe 12 days?  12 days of writing?  Is that too much to ask?  I don't think so.  And here's why... Last week was Thanksgiving, co-mingled with lots of pre-Christmas shopping, on Thanksgiving, after Thanksgiving, on cyber Monday and before cyber Monday.  I didn't engage until late on Sunday afternoon, when I thought I might be missing deals.  This year we are on a strict budget.  The kids have every electronic known to man, or at least to adults, or at least to me , and I can't imagine they are in need of one more device or screen.  Toys are pretty much outgrown in this house and we aren't quite into the luxury teenage items, thankfully.  Still, the lists may be lean, but they are a little long.  So I fou...

Promises When I first came to this place over twenty years ago, I think we were engaged.    It seemed odd then to be invited in when we weren’t married yet.   I remember the anxiety I felt as we climbed the mountains and took the hairpin turn.   Would I like it here?   Would they like me?   I slept in the small open bedroom (yes, there is no door) and he slept on the sleeping porch.   I fell in love with the place.   And now we have come back countless times, each time with one more notch, one more step our milestones.   Married.   Married with one child.   Married with two children.   Married but only he went with one child.   Etc. Etc.   Each time different.   Each time magical.   Each time the promise that we will return.     That first year, I never knew.   I never knew that this would be our place.   I never imagined that we would keep coming back.   I imagined it, maybe, b...