June comes to an end

Today is the last day of June, and I have yet to sit down and continue documenting our lives for my poor memory. I left off last time in mid-June; here are a few more photos of the month. High school graduation was the same day as the now 14 year old's birthday, so we had a double family celebration with cake. The 14 year old not only had ice cream and cake for her birthday and eighth grade promotion, but also for a swimming party for her friends - who stayed 8 hours (we did reapply sunscreen) - and for her confirmation the next Sunday - which was a small service for immediate families and sponsors only.   We did have a small celebration with the families of her two friends who also went through the program. They used the Matthew Kelly Decision Point videos and workbook, which are fine, light on catechism, but easily supplemented, although with this sixth child we were not as diligent with intentional teaching.  The program was sponsored by the military archdiocese, and for our group of 8 students, we met in family homes, watched the videos, did the discussions, shared a meal, and then played games that were supposed to have a catechetical tie-in - like hangman or scavenger hunt for fruits of the spirit.  I really liked the combination of family involvement, learning, and fellowship of this format, which is why we went through the military chapel instead of our own parish, which has changed to confirmation program several times, to its current iteration, which is a week of lectures in addition to attending youth group regularly, which doesn't get a great turnout. 

The following week the younger girls and I went to Tucson to take some furniture to our oldest son, who now is officially independent, with a job, an apartment, a new car, and insurance.  We brought him a table and chairs, which I bought for him from a neighbor who was moving - and I bought myself a new used couch for our living room.  We also tried to bring him a box spring, but halfway through the six hour drive, the tie down straps broke and the box spring flew off the top of the car. One of the ratchets of the tie down straps hit our back window and shattered it. Fortunately, the glass didn't blow into the car - thank goodness for tempered glass.  But the girls were crying as I pulled over, ran down the side of the interstate to pull the box spring off to the side and recover our tarp and straps to try to shield the windshield so we could continue driving. My husband called ahead to a glass repair company that boarded it up for us when we reached Yuma, 30 minutes down the road. The rest of the trip was uneventful, but hot. I loved the heat, since I never feel hot here. The girls withered, however, on our three mile hike through Saguaro National Park, which just outside of the city - almost an urban national park.

Not wanting to waste time, the girls and I and a couple of  the 14 year old's friends took another short road trip - this time northeast, to the San Bernardino National Forest to camp two nights. I don't know why we have never visited this area - it was gorgeous, and just 2.5 hours away.  Maybe because it was on fire a few years ago? Or because it is close to LA? But for a midweek campout during a Covid pandemic, it was not crowded at all.  I loved getting out into the pine trees. We did have one stutter-start when a drunk/high couple on the verge of a nasty breakup, or so it seemed because of their fighting, pulled into the camp spot across from ours. I kept hoping they would just break up and leave - or at least one of them peel out. But they had their tent set up by the time the camp host came around to check everyone in. We were 3/4ths set up by this time, but I still asked the host if we could change spots. That particular campground didn't have any openings for two nights in a row, but the more primitive campground down the road did, so we moved. The second campground was nearly empty, and much prettier. That's the difference between a place with flush toilets and one with pit toilets.  I'd much rather endure the stench of pit and have peace and quiet than have the luxury of flushing the toilet.  This camp was more wooded and had a scenic little creek with small falls burbling through it.  The girls were great sports about resetting camp and were also great hikers.

No sooner were we unpacked and settled back in at home after that little respite, than my son found a puppy at the pound down the road.  I must have been sleep deprived from camping, or on a fresh air high, but for some reason, I said yes to the puppy.  I woke up the next morning after we brought it home - at 5:30 to the sound of its cries - than I second-guessed my decision.  He is a small terrier mix with a tiny bladder.  We have a fourteen day trial period, so if  I'm a zombie by then, he may go back.  Fortunately for him, he has only had one accident - maybe because I am like a hawk soaring above him when he is out of his crate.  His presence will make going camping again any time soon complicated, but he has an adoring audience who are spending much less time on electronic devices, so is it worth it?  We shall see how the next ten days go...

High school graduation day

Senior class president address

Another drive-by graduation 

... followed by a student organized gathering in the park.

Celebrating with sparklers

Race awareness art for a small march in our town - an introduction to activism. The march ended with a presentation of a petition to the school board for a stronger response to racism in the schools, which is a problem in our affluent, mostly white community. 

Prior to the march there was a gathering at the park to hear the experiences of minorities in the school district, which ranged from disappointing to shocking.  It was not a large gathering but it made an impact; the school board accepted the petition and pledged to respond. 

A mother son paddle board expedition - the only photo he allowed me to take

Confirmand and her sponsor

Fancy hair for the confirmation

Picking up Albert the Great

My middle son commented that he looks a little like those wiry Webkinz. As my sister commented, he is an odd creature, but he is very affectionate.

Reading to Bertie on the new used couch.

Updates

The past few weeks have provided bushels of food for thought.  There's a lot to ponder, but in the meantime, after weeks of empty calendar boxes, we suddenly had a week full of milestones and celebrations.  The week began with a small farewell dinner party for people from my husband's work, and ended with a celebration of Confirmation on the first day back to Mass in California.  We also marked a birthday, watched awards ceremonies, had 3 car parades, an eighth grade promotion, a tumultuous high school graduation, and a couple events accompanying that occasion. Also, our oldest son is setting up his first apartment on his own in Arizona. And the world is in upheaval.

I've been relieved that because of the protocols around social distancing, we didn't feel obligated to mark these events with big party.  Here are some photos of our celebrations:

We celebrated an anniversary

The kids made the sushi

Someone lost a tooth and her brother wrote her a book.

Masking for a baccalaureate. They are smiling, maybe.

Picking up cap and gown

Eighth grade drive through graduation

Goodbye, middle school

This cutie had another birthday

We cut 12 inches of hair and donated it for wigs for children. So much easier to brush!

New pet - it actually hatched into a pretty sulfur butterfly.

Online college graduation

pie for dinner

Ceramics class projects were picked up. I'm sad I wasn't the beneficiary of more projects since the class was cut short from corona.

Whose tallest now?

My daughter's boyfriend's mother buys her flowers.

Pentecost cake

I'm having difficulty getting photos to upload, so that's all for now...

Poetry Foundation links

My son shared this poem today by Lucille Clifton, which led to a diversion into the offerings of the Poetry Foundation.  Poetry speaks when we are not quite sure what to say.  

jasper texas 1998

BY LUCILLE CLIFTON

for j. byrd

i am a man's head hunched in the road.

i was chosen to speak by the members

of my body. the arm as it pulled away

pointed toward me, the hand opened once

and was gone.

why and why and why

should i call a white man brother?

who is the human in this place,

the thing that is dragged or the dragger?

what does my daughter say?

the sun is a blister overhead.

if i were alive i could not bear it.

the townsfolk sing we shall overcome

while hope bleeds slowly from my mouth

into the dirt that covers us all.

i am done with this dust. i am done.

Lucille Clifton, "jasper texas 1998" from Blessing the Boats: New and Selected Poems 1988-2000. Copyright © 2000 by Lucille Clifton. Reprinted with the permission of BOA Editions, Ltd. Source: Blessing the Boats: New and Selected Poems 1988-2000 (BOA Editions Ltd., 2000)

Boy Breaking Glass

BY GWENDOLYN BROOKS

To Marc Crawford
from whom the commission

Whose broken window is a cry of art   

(success, that winks aware

as elegance, as a treasonable faith)

is raw: is sonic: is old-eyed première.

Our beautiful flaw and terrible ornament.   

Our barbarous and metal little man.

“I shall create! If not a note, a hole.   

If not an overture, a desecration.”

Full of pepper and light

and Salt and night and cargoes.

“Don’t go down the plank

if you see there’s no extension.   

Each to his grief, each to

his loneliness and fidgety revenge.

Nobody knew where I was and now I am no longer there.”

The only sanity is a cup of tea.   

The music is in minors.

Each one other

is having different weather.

“It was you, it was you who threw away my name!   

And this is everything I have for me.”

Who has not Congress, lobster, love, luau,   

the Regency Room, the Statue of Liberty,   

runs. A sloppy amalgamation.

A mistake.

A cliff.

A hymn, a snare, and an exceeding sun.

Gwendolyn Brooks, “Boy Breaking Glass,” from Blacks (Chicago: Third World Press, 1987). Reprinted by consent of Brooks Permissions. Source: Blacks (Third World Press, 1987)

Homage to Black Madonnas

BY MARGARET BURROUGHS

Venerable black women

You of yesterday, you of today.

Black mothers of tomorrow yet to be

These lines are homage to you, for you. 

Magnificent black women

The poets and singers have been remiss

Have sung too few poems and songs of you

And the image makers have not recorded your beauty.

Sheba, Nefertiti, Zaiditu, Cleopatra.

Black women, Mothers of humanity, Mother original

Your black children here salute you.

You, bartered, sold, insulted, raped and defiled,

Debased and debauched for four centuries. 

Strong women, Gannet, Tubman and Truth. 

Weary black women

Your breasts gaunt from nurturing theirs first

And later sustaining yours, caring for theirs

At the same instance providing for yours also.

Women forgotten, Mandy, Melindy, Cindy, and Lisa.

Gentle black women

While being hated, yet teaching love

Being scorned, yet teaching respect

Being humiliated and teaching Compassion.

Humble women, Bessie, Mattie, Lucey, Ann and Willie Mae. 

Resourceful black women, with tact

Managing to make do, alter clothing,

Stretch meals, Making room, Prodding, Bolstering

Nudging us on, Protecting, teaching survival. 

Laney, Bethune, Keckley, Terrel and Brown. 

Militant black women, defending yours with fury

Standing firm, picketing and demonstrating

Kneeling in, sitting in and wading in

Standing, walking, marching and boycotting. 

Parks, Wells, Pleasant and Louvestre. 

Discerning black women, women of genius

Setting your children a proper example

Teaching that each generation must do its part

To improve life for those coming after. 

Nannie, Gaines, Burroughs, Maggie Walker. 

Courageous black women, brave and fearless

Seeking to make a home among the unfriendly

Sending your children off to school

To pass unscathed through walls of hate.

Lucy, Bates, Richardson, and Hamer.

Angry black women and understanding

Aware of efforts to stunt your men

Yet urging them manhood again.

Diana, Gloria, Thelma, Ethel, Eva and Marion.

Heroic black women, women of glory

Not turning back, never giving up

Equalling, surpassing the stature

Of any race of women, anywhere, any time.

Billie, Ella, Dinah, Sis-Sirretta, Mahalia.

Black women of genius, brilliant women

Walking through the hateful valleys

In dignity, strength and such serene composure

That even your enemies tremble insecure. 

Hansberry, Talbert, Bonds and Baker. 

Magnificent black women, hopeful women

Believing that trouble doesn't last always

Knowing this truth, that those who are slaves today

May well be the masters tomorrow, even sooner. 

Sisters with all women, black women

Your sufferings echo those of all the oppressed.

Join together all of you in a universal cry

For Peace and the good life for all. The world listens. 

Margaret Burroughs, "Homage to Black Madonnas" from What Shall I Tell My Children Who Are Black?.  Copyright © 1968, 1992 by Margaret Burroughs.  Reprinted by permission of the Margaret Burroughs Estate. 

Other poems by Margaret Burroughs can be found here: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/146263/what-shall-i-tell-my-children-who-are-black-reflections-of-an-african-american-mother

and the first two poems are from this collection:

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/collections/101581/poems-of-protest-resistance-and-empowerment