All Saints Day

These are some shots from a walk through Pere Lachaise Cemetery in Paris, resting place of several famous people, including Gertrude Stein and the composer, Frederic Chopin. 

The oldest people buried here are a husband and wife, Abelard (1079-1142) and Heloise (1101-1164).  Many graves have been added since that time.  The most recent I saw was in 2011, but most are very old.  Many are moss covered or strewn with cobwebs; some have sunken over time.

Lots of the family plots are marked by crypts where the bereaved can come to pray.  The smell of incense and flickering of candles can be found at several graves.  As sunlight shines through the stained glass that appears in the back and sides of many of the crypts, color can be seen through designs cut into the doors in their fronts.

After all these years, I still felt as though I was witnessing the grief of the bereaved looking at these graves.  Seeing how they attempted to preserve the likeness of a loved one, or tell something about their lifestyle in the memorial they chose, I understood the desire to make sure the one they lost was not forgotten having experienced that same feeling.

Grief is such a painful process; it overwhelms us leaving both body and soul spent.  Once you have lost someone, I don’t believe you ever really stop grieving.  I think the best you can hope for is to find peace.

Peace to all who are mourning.

https://www.mamakatslosinit.com

Never have I seen a ghost; but if I did, I am pretty sure it would be here.

The Rich Tapestry

We all should know that diversity makes for a rich tapestry, and we must understand that all the threads of the tapestry are equal in value no matter what their color.  --Maya Angelou

A new mural covers the wall of a building across the street from the National Park's Brown v Topeka Board of Education site.  We were given the opportunity to help underwrite the mural project and to paint on it some as well.  The day we painted was memorable for me.  As I worked, my family painted alongside me on the right, and some of my students painted with me on the left.  I have worked with many students through my years in the Topeka Public Schools.  We chose TPS for our own kids' education.  USD 501 does not have a perfect history, but it does have the distinction of being the place where America attempted to right a wrong for a little girl named Linda Brown and all other children who would follow.  Children deserve safe, welcoming, and adequately funded schools in which to learn.  It is a priveledge to do my part to help see they get that in Topeka.

Ten Things of Thankful

A Supreme Court ruling  that stuck down Separate but Equal

The opportunity to work along with others--some I know and love, some who simply share the understanding of the importance of the Brown v Board decision

A tapestry of colors 

My family.  My students.

Beautiful weather that lures you outside

Cooperation that leads to a finished project

Plants

Love and support from the people in my life

Stories--whether the lifestory of a person I know, a book that captures my imagination, family tales that I have heard a million times.  Stories give life meaning.

OK, Oklahoma

OK, Oklahoma,

I am sending you my first born.

She has been dreaming of this moment since she was four.  Then together we have dreamed this moment would take place right there in the heart of Oklahoma City ever since laying eyes on OU’s dental school campus with its green spaces and down-home-friendly folks.

Being a Prairie Girl myself, I know there is more than dentistry she can learn there.  When the wind comes sweeping down the plain as it seems to with far too much frequency and voracity, she will learn resiliency.  When knocked down, she will learn to rise back up.

She will learn to find beauty in the spare.  Looking at the vast horizon she will see past herself and gain perspective of her place in the world.  Looking into the star filled night sky she will make her wishes, and dealing with a land that can be harsh she will gain the strength and wisdom to make those wishes come true.

I am sending her with confidence knowing you will be good for her and to her.  Knowing there is space enough on your plains for her to grow into the woman she is meant to be.  Knowing in Oklahoma she will be OK.

More of my look back to the back to school season five years ago.

Oklahoma, Here She Comes

Another look back to that back to school season that took the Dentist to her training in OKC.

A few days ago we loaded a mix of things passed down from family, found along the curb, or purchased for just this day into a moving van and headed into the new adventure that awaits our daughter as she begins dental school in Oklahoma.

The excitement was palpable.  Everything she has worked for has been leading up to this day.  What a joy that we were all able to help her out and be here to share it with her.  And yet that darned van full of her stuff lurking out front did seem to mock me just a little bit.

To me the hardest part of a move is always when you are looking at what you are leaving behind.  Once we got there and started pulling the place together it was good times!

We arranged an explosion of mirror bubbles over her bed.

And discovered much subliminal messaging in her art…a glittery golden Kansas outline, a reproduction of an architectural drawing of her high school signed by friends and teachers at her graduation, and a series of prints her father did in studio his freshman year of college documenting his own letters home.

There’s no place like home. There’s no place like home.

We found the perfect spot for this La Femme à la fête, a souvenir  from her visit to a winery in France, to send her off each morning with a toast.

Most of our time was spent hefting furniture and unpacking boxes.  I will include more shots of the assembled apartment next time I get to visit.  The place is tiny, but really wonderful.  And adventure waits right outside her door.

The Spice of Life

Back to school can be a very nostolgic time for mom's of adult children.  I find myself reading posts written as my kids were heading off on fall adventures all over again.  This one conveys the nervous excitement of sending my eldest off to dental school, and the desire to do what I could to be of some use.

Over the course of the next several weeks we will be helping our first born set up her first apartment.  The dental school has made it abundantly clear that their program is meant to be a full-time pursuit, and they don’t anticipate the students will be working jobs concurrently with their studies.  This means her living expenses will be covered by student loans for the next four years.

I hate debt, so the thought of borrowing just to live makes me shudder.  I have been looking for all the ways we can help her limit spending as she establishes her own little home.  After all, we really have more than enough.  So, we have been shuffling furniture, kitchen supplies, sheets and other sundry items her way.

This week I hit the pantry and the spice cabinet to stock her non-perishable items and staples.  As I packed item after item into bags I had to smile at the thought of her using the things.  I mixed spices into old shakers to give her the blends she likes when her dad grills burgers or I make Grandma Susie’s spaghetti sauce.

 I sighed as I filled Boy Scout and Girl Scout tins with flour and sugar, and wondered how those Scouts could be heading out into the world so soon.  Has it been so long since they sold me these tins of popcorn and mints?

The spice cabinet was filled with several sugar sprinkle containers half to a quarter full of the same kinds of sprinkles.  When I worked at the church I had the children decorate holiday cookies for Ronald Mc Donald House, and the project called for many shakers  for all the helping hands.  I suppose last Christmas is the last Christmas for that tradition as well.  So, I combined like sprinkles into single containers, then washed and filled the empties with spices for the new apartment.

So many times in life the new brings with it an ending to the old.  In the pouring and filling of containers, I fought periodic waves of sadness at the passing of what had been.  For the most part, I felt the anticipation and expectation for what was about to come.  After all, I told myself as I measured the oregano and black pepper, change is the spice of life.

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The Shared Bedroom

There is something to be said for sharing a bedroom with a sibling.  Negotiation skills are forged within limited space.  A person learns to share. Courtesy for another’s needs and feelings emerges in the give and take of how loudly music should be played and what time the lights need to be dimmed.

A shared bedroom is no place to nurse a grudge.  A person can only tolerate a line of masking tape down the center of the room for so long before realizing amends must be made.

Not only does sharing a room with a brother or sister teach a person to consider the feelings of another human being, it also gives ample opportunity to practice asserting your own needs in an appropriate way as well.  You must learn to stand your ground, or at least your floor space, effectively without flaring conflict.

Shared space encourages strong relationships.  Living in close proximity to another person you witness their ups and downs.  You’re given an intimate view of their dreams, successes, and failures as well as how they cope with each.  Before you realize it, you find yourself pulling for the person who has driven you mad for so long.  You feel real empathy for him when he is down and take real joy in his victories.

Our wisdom and our diplomatic prowess develop over time through what we experience in daily living.  One thing I know for sure, when the leaders of the world gather to make decisions that affect us all, I want to be represented by someone who shared a bedroom with a sibling growing up.


Written in 2013.  Even more pertinent today.

In The Fullness of Time

Time has a way of leveling things out.  Issues that once seemed insurmountable look less formidable in the rear view mirror.  My son is currently in the midst of a break between undergraduate and law school. He finally took the gap year we considered back in 2013 as he was leaving high school.

His father and I are far more relaxed than we were when he was choosing what to do following high school graduation.  He seemed ill prepared for college...until he attended, became engaged in his studies for the first time in his life,  and experienced more academic success than it would have been prudent for us to hope for.  It's encouraging to look back upon your troubles once they are resolved.  Things are improved in the fullness of time.  

Here's what we were thinking five years ago...

It is the last semester of my last kid’s last year in high school.  Years ago I thought I would be a weepy mess by this point, but I am not.  He is a great kid with a huge heart and good mind.  He has two older sisters who have gone before him and shown me that a young adult can leave your home, but never leave your heart.  So, much to my surprise (and no doubt his), I am getting anxious to see what comes next.

My son comes from a long line of males on my side of the family who are late bloomers in terms of achievement matching ability.  For several years now I have been promoting the idea of a gap year between high school and college.  Recently, I think my son heard what I have been saying for the first time.  Delayed entry to college makes sense to us all.  So, the search has begun for an appropriate gap year experience.

Travel is educational and encourages maturation, but it comes with a price tag that exceeds what my son has available.  His dad and I are not interested in working here at home to pay for our eighteen-year-old to be a jet-setting tourist.

I have found programs that pair international travel and earning college credits.  If we aren’t going to send him to college in the USA in the fall because we think he could use more time to grow ready for the experience, how could taking classes half a planet away serve him well?

The third option we found online is a combination of international travel and service.  This is the option that has us the most excited.  Serving others is good for your soul.  It makes you appreciate what you have as well as what others do to serve you.  There is nothing like hard work at minimal wages to make you begin to see the value of higher education. Helping to pay your own way builds self-confidence.  It gives you a clearer picture of the worth of a dollar.

I see by the application deadlines that we are arriving late to this party.  So, we will be scrambling over the next several weeks in an attempt to make this happen for him.  I have no idea what our search will unearth, but  I trust that we will forge the best plan for his growth and development.

There is a big world out there, and nearly everything my son has done to this point has signaled his intention to explore it.  His knowledge of geography surpassed mine more than a decade ago.  His favorite classes are the three foreign languages he studies.  His future holds the promise of great things.  As his mother, I will do all in my power to give him the world.

Summer's End

Only one more day.  I am due back on duty at school on August 1st.  I am not ready.  I have not stopped moving all summer long, working my way through my to-do list.  I ended the school year really wiped out.  I was certain I was more drained than I normally feel in May and I looked forward to the respite the summer would provide.  Now that my summer break has dwindled down to a matter of hours, I am not sure how well I refilled my reservoir.  Ready or not, I am heading back.  

In reality I know it is true that as each summer draws to a close I feel the same sense of disbelief.  The break always goes too quickly having been filled with far too many commitments to be truly refreshing.  This time of year always brings with it a degree of letting go--a skill I am not particularly good at.  

Below is a wistful look at summer's end a few years back...

The calendar may not reflect it, but summer is nearly gone. I consciously will the pace to slow, wanting to hang on to each passing day.

When summer ends my girls will go.  One to Tennessee; one to Texas. Both too far.

I love when we are all home.  We work all day and play in the night.  We are up too late and the morning arrives too early.  And so it goes.  But summer will end and my girls must go.  Their life awaits.

My tempo will be disrupted. I'll be off balance.  I will wander through their rooms, summer's sudden end making my footing uncertain. My world will move in slow motion.

I wouldn't have it any other way. The girls will be discovering their worlds and discovering who they are within those worlds.  They'll have much to tell. Messages will fly in two different directions and back again from each. Rapid-fire reports of challenges faced and victories won.

In time my footing will become more certain.  My days will fill again.  A busy patter of activity will make the days fly by.

I'll wake one day to wonder where the school year has gone.  Summer will be coming and my girls will be on their way home once more.

July 29, 2011

Currently

Discouraged by the events of the past couple weeks, I looked over some pieces I have written over time hoping to discover hope.  This piece written at this time of year five years ago reminds me that we have been through hard times before. The issues remain frighteningly constant.  We have known discouragement, and we have prevailed.  

Currently, the world is just a little mixed up.

Currently…

…I am saddened by the loss of civility in our culture.  The crass and vulgar language that is considered appropriate in public spaces makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.  The aggressive and disrespectful way people treat each other wears on me.

…I am furious that the interest rates on student loans are doubling, and that those we elected to represent us are doing nothing to stop it.

…I am worried that the wealthiest and most powerful are using their influence in a way that will insure there won’t be a middle class in America for my grandchildren.

…I am heartened by the young people I know personally who have strength, character and  humor despite the culture we have handed them.

…I am awed by every day heroes who reflect the very best in us as they selflessly rush in to eradicate danger.

…I am surrounded by miracles- Grown children who grasp the importance of family; plants that doggedly grow and bloom , sharing beauty regardless of the care I offer; babies on the way, new lives filled with potential.

…I am trying to leave the world a little better than I found it through love and compassion.

…I am comforted by the knowledge that I am not alone.

The world is a mess, that is true.  Still, it has been a mess before.  Time and time again we have seen that human beings hold within us the power to improve the world.  It will take effort and require a tireless insistence on our best.  We must not pander to our most base instincts.  We were not intended to be just another beast in the animal kingdom.  We are intended to rise above.

Currently, I believe in the promise we hold within us to heal.

Circling Back

I saw this quote the other day and was struck by its truth…

Life’s journey is circular, it appears.  The years don’t carry us away from our fathers–they return us to them. ~Michel Marriot

Abutting generations.  Their issues, feelings, experiences may be too intense.   People pull away from one another to gain space in which to find their own footing.

They maintain distance.  When grandchildren come, they need their grandparents, and the generations are pulled back together.

Time allows us to see each other in light that falls less harshly on our choices and ways of thinking.

The line that once moved directly away bends and bows and encircles all once more.  Three generations; one family.  Individuals bound to one another through time by love.

Road Trips

1990- 2010 was the Era of Epic Road Trips for our family. We made multiple runs to the East coast from our Kansas home.  We thought nothing of buzzing up to Door County, Wisconsin with semi-frequency.  We loaded up our own wagon and traveled to every location where Pa Ingalls had settled the Little House gang.  From the Grand Canyon to the Statue of Liberty we saw the USA, and we did it while preserving quite a bit of the domestic tranquility.

We were blessed with three easy going kids which made the traveling feasible, but we also had a secret weapon…the little girl in this photo, Daughter #2 age five.  By this point she could out-pack me for the journey.  Those indoor/outdoor sunglasses are a tip-off that this young lady was ready for anything.  Wherever we traveled, she brought along a backpack filled with the most obscure items which we inevitably found ourselves needing.  Tape, chigger bite cream, a flashlight, a permanent marker, a bungee cord, all manner of safety items could be found in that red calico bag.  But she wasn’t merely practical, she also packed creature comforts.  Snacks, drinks, lotion, chap stick, stuffed animals, fuzzy socks, and most likely that set of Uno cards amusing her in the photo, all were things she could be counted on toting along as well.

The mere mention of an item one of us might find handy sent her riffling through her back pack.  Nine times out of ten she could lay her hands on the very item we were wishing for.  She wouldn’t say a word, but simply grin and hand it over.

She and I  make fewer epic road trips now that shuttling her back and forth between home and college not to mention our summer vacations have ended.  The last road trip we made was Kansas to North Carolina where she settled into her adult life.  Even on that trip she still thought of things we needed that I had forgotten, and still pulled them out of her bag with that same sly grin.  She is still a world class traveling companion.  In fact, the only that has really changed is her taste in sunglasses.

Mama Kat:Road Trip

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TToT: Throwback to Summers Past

…back in Kansas,  there is much to be thankful for.

Little kids and their great sense of style.  How can you go wrong with a red glitter visor and patriotic tutu skirt?  Not to mention the confidence to wear it in public!

Rain that brings the temperature out of the “hazardous” range and offers a life saving drink to the outdoor plants.

Watermelon.  Cold, juicy watermelon.

Summer binge reading.  

An example of graciousness: Sunday at church an elderly gentleman mistook a decorative gem stone for a mint, placing it in his mouth and causing concern among the crowd.  I attempted to get him to spit it out for fear he would choke, but only succeeded in confusing and embarrassing him.  Soon after, a lady sitting near us reached for her purse.   Pulling out a tissue she lightly folded it into a square, leaned over to him and said, “When you are finished with what you have in your mouth go ahead and slip it into the tissue.”  Genius, unadulterated genius.  He swished the hard stone around his mouth a couple more times before discretely depositing it into the tissue.  Not only did she stave off a choking disaster, she allowed him to retain his dignity.  Her gracious act was a thing of beauty.

Sun tea by the gallon.  Cold and crisp.

Mammographic proof of healthy breasts.  And 364 days of smoosh-free existence.  I am never quite ready for my close-up.

Watching my friend at her father’s funeral this week, I was reminded of my mom’s funeral a few years ago.  My kids surrounded me with both physical and emotional support.  It is one of my earliest memories of them all three as adults, roles reversed with them caring for me.  The pride and affection of the memory is still as strong as it was in the moment; I am tremendously grateful for these three people who make life pretty much as good as it gets.

~~~~~~~~

The entry above was written several summers ago.  I happened across it today as I was deleting some old files from my computer, and it was a timely reminder of how much of what is really good in life remains the same from year to year.  As another week comes to an end I remain thankful for all that gives refreshment, for the love of family, the company of friends,  the innocence of childhood, the written word, and fathers.  This week I am especially thankful that I never had to face the possibility of someone beyond my control separating me from my children; and though it has been far too long in coming I am grateful that faith leaders are raising their voices to say that our government doing this to families is morally and spiritually wrong.

Ten Things of Thankful

A Mother's Love

In high school my daughter's friends gravitated to one home more than any other.  Their friend Eric is an only child and his parents graciously opened their basement to Rock Band, pool and all sorts of teen amusements.  Instead of one child, the house was often filled with a dozen or more. Scrumptious home baked treats were served warm from the oven and both parents created a welcoming atmosphere where the kids felt relaxed and at home.

By senior year the kids became aware of changes in Eric's dad, though it wasn't until later that they learned he was suffering from Alzheimer's.  Over time this gracious man retreated from the kids.  When we discovered his illness I felt awful for all the times this rambunctious group of kids descended on the family when they were already dealing with so much.  We could have easily shifted their gatherings to our own basement.  But at no time did Eric's parents close their door to the kids even when it would have been so much easier to do so.

Eric's dad died while the kids were in college. I attended the visitation and delivered a message from my daughter.  Off at school in Memphis she was unable to be at the funeral for this man for whom she felt such affection.  She wanted them to know she would be there if she could.

Eric's mom smiled and commented about what great friends these kids had remained in the years after graduation.  Looking so serene she pointed out that Eric would have a strong support system to help him deal with his loss.  At that moment I understood why she had endured teens screaming along with Rock Band while caring for her ailing husband night after long night, and I was awed by her wisdom.

While her husband's disease caused him to recede into the past, while her teenaged son lived fully in the present, this loving mother was thinking about the future.  In that future she knew her son would experience painful loss and would need strong relationships to help him cope. She determined to provide a place where those friendships could be forged.  As this realization flooded me I was struck with such respect for this woman.  My heart connected to hers mother to mother.  I understood again why this young man has turned out so well.

Central Market

We went to a wedding in Golden, Co last month giving us the perfect excuse to spend a few days exploring the Denver area.  By the time we arrived the first night we were hungry for dinner.  All of the restaurants we called were busy and had wait lists of an hour or more.  Road-weary we were hoping for something quicker, but didn't want fast food.  Searching for alternatives, we stumbled onto Denver Central Market.

The place reminded us of markets our children shopped in during their study abroad experiences in Europe.  Vendors hawk their products from individual booths set up inside one large commercial building.  Fishmongers, bakers, butchers, and cheese sellers stand side by side.  Strolling through the market you are able to pick up everything you need for a simple, delicious meal.  

Distractions like candy and magazine racks tempting you at check-out are completely absent.  The items are all fresh and labeled simply.  Excessive packaging and multiple brands competing for your attention are not issues.

Each vendor offers only the category of products which they know best.  Their expertise ensures quality merchandise and solid advice as to how best serve it.

There is a life lesson in this style of market.  None of us can be everything to everyone, and that is OK.  It is much better to know who you are and to concentrate on being the very best of whoever, whatever that is.  In that you will find real success.

I don't wish to be everything to everyone, but I would like to be something to someone.  

                                                                        Javan

It Matters

I rediscovered this piece I wrote five years ago before I had taken my job permanently.  Even when I thought I was only there as a substitute, the kids had worked their way into my heart. I still try to make connections with them daily.  I still hate the paperwork and often dodge it in an effort to make more time with the kids; and still, it matters.

I continue to spend part of my week with middle-schoolers.  The maternity leave coverage I agreed to provide through January grew to a part-time commitment for the rest of the school year.  I’ve been asked if I would consider signing on next year, but to do that I would lose my substitute status.  The beauty of being a substitute is that it excuses me from some of the report writing that staff has to do, and I have been having the best time using that paperwork time with the kids instead.

The administration emailed us a video clip created by PBS on early warning signs a student is likely to drop out of high school.  Research has shown that sixth graders who fail one or more core subjects and have frequent unexcused absences are on the road to becoming a drop out.  It is alarming to realize the dye is cast for some kids as early as sixth grade.  It is horrifying to realize it when you have real live faces to attach to that warning.

So began my latest passion.  I scan attendance records each time I am at school.  I have a list of students I am concerned about.  Once I discover they are present I head off to their lockers where I slip a note, some candy or some sort of small token through the vents in their locker.  It is a sweet nothing, but its message is significant.  It says someone noticed I was here today, and it matters.

These kids are going to know me for five months of their lives.  For some of them I am a bandaid on a hemorrhage.  Will my efforts make a long term difference?  I don’t know.  But today-for this very day-some young people experienced school as welcoming.  Today I saw smiles where there had been none.  I noticed, and oh, yes! it mattered.

Parisian Cobblestones

Cobblestones cover the ground in Paris everywhere you look- streets, sidewalks, courtyards outside residences and public buildings.  It seems as though they’ve been there forever; though they are worn, they never wear out.  Curving, swirling or straight as a pin,  one stone after another leads the way through this beautiful city.