October Update

Here we are a month later, deep into fall. In southern California that means we have had some of the warmest weather all year.  The pool has had a lot of use.  I've been craving cooler weather, but not minding the warmth.  I relish the heavy feeling of a warm day - probably because the days aren't relentlessly warm here, as they are in, say, Tucson, Arizona.

Our son in Tucson and his fiancee came to visit us earlier in the month to escape the heat. It was in the 80s here that weekend, but for them it was a relief from the 100s in Tucson. They spent a good portion of the weekend at the beach, and we had an Octoberfest dinner out on the back patio one night with our neighbors who used to live in Germany. The warm day made it little hard to pack away as much spaetzle and potatoes as I would have liked; the homemade pretzels and cold beer would have been enough of a meal. 

Much of the last three weeks I spent buried in books. After happily reading books and articles for the paper I committed to present at the online conference for Christianity and Literature, I finally had to sit down for hours and write.  I forget how long it takes to write and think.  I tell my students this all the time: writing is not a short process. I should have started this paper a month earlier.  As I was writing, I realized I had way too much material about Wendell Berry and Gary Snyder AND David James Duncan and Brian Doyle to fit both into a 12 page paper without skimming over a big portion of their work - which would have worked, but I didn't leave myself enough time to work out what I wanted to leave out because I had found so much wonderful material. My idea was to compare their letters with their work, but because I am not well versed in Gary Snyder's work, and because there is so much about Wendell Berry, I decided to just focus on DJD and BD, whose letters are not published, but DJD wrote a really moving tribute to BD in the intro to One Long River of Song, and by combing through their essays and the internet, I found several correspondences between the two - both literal letters and email exchanges and correspondences in their work. So that's what I ended up writing about.  It was still too long for a 20 minute presentation, so I had to skip a few  paragraphs. I think I should fix it up and submit it somewhere. I just don't know where, and after spending so many hours working on it, I don't want to look at it again for awhile. 

The online conference was actually more enjoyable than I expected. As I mentioned, the theme was friendship. I listened in on a couple of sessions - although because the conference was held on a Friday and Saturday, I had other activities scheduled to attend. That's the drawback of a virtual conference - I wasn't committed to being at other sessions. The other presenter in my section wrote about Marilyn Robinson's Housekeeping, which was good - Robinson has a new book out that I would like to read, but I think I might need to revisit Gilead.  About six other people listened in to our talks, and the conversation after we both presented was friendly and, well, conversational, instead of stiff and obligatory.  

And the keynote speech by Paul Waddell, a professor at St Norbert College, about an ethics of friendship was really good. He compared the classical definition of friendship Christianized by Aelred with Augustine's warning about being too attached to friends, but moved away from the ideal to the practical to make the point that our faith calls us to be hospitable, to be a friend and neighbor to all. He proposed a politics of charity to enact that ethic of friendship. I wish I had taken notes to explain more clearly, but I was listening in while catching up for work on class. I made the mistake of scheduling papers due the week before this conference, so I had fifty some essays to grade, in addition to grading the regular assignments AND trying to finish my own paper.  Not good timing. 

But last week I caught up, almost. I used to be two weeks ahead in publishing my online course material; now I'm a weekend ahead. We have four weeks left before finals, and two of those weeks are dedicated to presentations, so I need to finish out the year this weekend - or that was my plan. The weekend somehow slid by without much work being accomplished because I spent time with the kids on Saturday, and Sunday we had a marriage prep meeting with our mentee couple, and I had coffee with a friend in the morning after Mass. Our husbands went on retreat this weekend, so we had our own sharing session over a dark brew.  

Our conversation mostly centered on job transitions, in addition to discussions of women working (re: Amy Coney Barrett). online high school frustrations, and issues surrounding gender and sexuality.  Her husband retired this spring; mine just decided this week that he will officially retire this summer, which I have anticipated for twenty years, but now find terrifying.  Why now, you may ask? I'm asking myself the same question, even though this has been the general plan for years.  We didn't plan for a pandemic or a wedding the month before, but here we are. We've come to the point of facing either retirement or committing to a move we don't want to make. More to come on that decision. 

Other news of the month? I haven't yet mailed in my ballot, but I suppose I will this week. I just want to put my head in the sand for the next four years, regardless of who is elected. I am probably going to write in a candidate like last time around, even though advocates for both sides will tell me that my nonvote is a vote for the other person.  Our church is having adoration the day of the election, so I will pray for unity and peace whatever the outcome may be. 

We have done some fall activities - the pumpkin patch, a short hike on Saturday, pumpkin bread baking. The youngest and I participated in some home school activities - Little Flowers and a recitation day.  She can't stop talking about Halloween, even though I am not sure what that evening is going to look like. I hope we can assuage her desire to dress up and get candy by going to a couple of friends' houses.  I do not want to make a candy chute, but I bought a lot of goodies, and may just leave the bowl in front of our house even if some pre-teen might come and swipe all of it. 

I need to turn my attention now to home school - which has been very light lately. Our recitation day was a big success, but I feel like I need to do some of the fun activities that make home school more hands-on. We haven't done a science lab or history project since the first month.  Reading, arithmetic, and religion get done daily - but the other subjects often get postponed - or are just reading a story from the library about a scientist or a chapter from our history book. Does watching Magic School Bus videos count as science? Time for an injection of delight back into learning.  

Actually, I'm not giving credit to our wonderful field trip we had on Thursday to the pioneer farm. The kids learned about cider making and made corn husk dolls - and then learned about reptiles. I'm not sure why this place has a reptile zoo, but it was fun to hold snakes, pet water dogs (larval salamanders), and learn about geckos. 

Recitation Day: "What is pink" by Christina Rosetti

Tree climbing

Pumpkin haul

A daddy/daughter campout at the beahc

Our farm co-op box: a great haul this time for $35, delivered

Fall color at our house is pink

This hibiscus is hard to capture with an iphone 6 - but I'm not upgrading to 12.

Portrait of plumeria and pumpkin

Our front walkway is really a profusion of pink right now: the oleander and lantana are also blooming

Son number two has a bi-line on an article profiling craftsmen he interviewed this summer during his online internship

Pumpkin patch visit

Corn maze

Friendly goats

Piggy goats

Not so friendly sheep

Oktoberfest

Our dog and his friend we were dog sitting - these guys were mostly a whirling dervish of fur for the weekend.

Basking after hours of play

The little guy is actually a great runner - did a 5 miler the other day

Ballots any one?

We hosted a couple of small socials with work friends. This one was particularly social - perhaps because of the 3 liter...

Swimmer! Swim team started last month - no meets but intersquad scrimmages to practice. 

She's doing great!

 

March comes in like a lion

One of my memories from early education was turning a paper plate into a lion face on one side and a lamb on the other to represent the saying "March comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb." This quote doesn't have any real relevance to the weather in Southern California - it comes in a little below 70 and sunny, and likely will go out the same, maybe a little over 70 and sunny. 

However, this March has brought a storm of activity and bleak news.  It all feels a little apocalyptic: deadly tornadoes in Tennessee, coronavirus encroachment, disconcerting news from family and friends, big decisions on the horizon.  The start of Lent has offered a lot of food for thought about living a life of faith.  And my husband is in the middle east in the desert for the duration of the season - his Lenten practices are a little easier to follow, except he will have no access to sacraments. 

For the most part, there is enough activity around here that I don't have time to sit and contemplate very much. But I admit I did go to the commissary and buy toilet paper and disinfecting wipes, which I genuinely needed, but I also went ahead and bought bleach and vinegar and refills of hand soap and powdered gatorade and vitamins, along with my regular full cart of groceries. I felt a little foolish in the check-out line - some of the checkers know me and know that we have a larger than average family, so we actually eat all this food, but I'm sure other shoppers, if they didn't already have bleach and bottled water in their carts, were wondering if I wasn't going a little overboard.  I have been thinking about our years in Mississippi and Guam when we kept a hurricane box ready to go, and never needed, and our Mormon friends who always keep bins in their garages with food and batteries, etc, for times of emergency.  It doesn't hurt to be prepared for something, does it? I keep wondering what is not being said, when these warnings are issued from newspaper and pulpit. 

Enough conspiracy theorizing, what I really need to be doing is finished quarter-term grades and taxes and setting up online course shells. So here are some photos from last week. I was going to write about Pico Iyer's and Alice Walker's talks - they were fabulous - but I don't have time. I took copious notes and am reading more of  their books when I can find a moment. They are very different writers and speakers, but equally interesting. 

A hummingbird nesting in our ficus tree. I found her when I was trimming the tree back a little - discontinued that job immediately- glad to have an excuse!

Pico Iyer interviewed by Dean Nelson as part of the Writer's Symposium by the Sea at Point Loma Nazarene University

Alice Walker

interviewed by Dean Nelson as part of the Writer's Symposium by the Sea at Point Loma Nazarene University

The house was packed for both writers.

Planting a tree for Arbor Day, celebrated a bit early around here.

And in other news. . .

On the anniversary of 9/11 last week. the campus where I am teaching now had small flags set up in the quad to memorialize those who had lost their lives. Because this is an evangelical Christian school, the campus ministry team emailed some prayers to be read in class. I am thrilled to begin class in prayer - "Come, Holy Spirit," being the one I have used, not sure of the theology of the Holy Spirit for my students, but going with it.  We had a moment of silence, and I read the prayer, and then asked who remembered 9/11.  Only 3 of 16 raised their hands - two were seniors, so they were toddlers when it occurred, and one was a nontraditional student who spent time in the Marines before returning to school. He was 11 in 2001. They shared their stories of what they could recall. One of the seniors remembered his dad packing up his family from southern Mexico to come to America because he still had a visa and was afraid the borders would be closed in response to the attacks.  They never went back to Mexico.  The guy who was 11 watched the news in his middle school classroom - and saw the people jumping from buildings on TV in school.  The third girl with memories of the event remembers it as a movie - something not quite real. To the rest of the students, this event is a part of recent history, much the way I remember Jimmy Carter being president and lining up for gas.

My own memories of 9/11 I  think I have shared: That morning I was, as usual, not paying attention to news until my mother-in-law called me. At the time we kept our TV in a closet because our tiny house in the northern suburbs of Chicago had no space. But I pulled it out and watched TV as much as I could with three toddlers the rest of the day.  Disbelief was my primary emotion.

We have been talked about defining moments of history in class - the fall of Rome, the shift from an earth-centric to a heliocentric understanding of the solar system, the revolutions of the 18th century, including the revolutionary ideas of Lamarck and Darwin. 9/11 surely marks a shift in worldview. Terrorism, domestic and international, has become a defining fear; has increasing secularism been a response?   These students of mine have never known a time when America was not involved in the middle east as a military presence. What a change in the military community 9/11 created.  Day to day life may be relatively little changed for most people, but the inconveniences of security checks, the very real disruptions of IAs, PTSD and deployments have restructured this generation's experience of military service. I wonder if it is just that I am more aware of suicide since 9/11, or if it continues to rise because of the trauma of that event and the corresponding reactions to it.

What will be the next defining event? The church is obviously going through a period of disruption. What should have been ended half a generation ago is still festering. A Catholic friend of mine, also in a military family, suggested that perhaps the Church needs to follow the example of the military. When mistakes are made, the commanding officer has to take responsibility at some point.  Some early retirements, if not public confessions and offers of restitution, should be made. I don't know how far up the canker reaches, but it must be very firmly rooted if it is still erupting so widely.

But it makes me tired to think of that, and many other concerns are more immediate.

For instance, how to teach about symbolism. Apropos of it all we read Blake's "Sick Rose" in class Tuesday - the worm imagery perhaps could represent this scandal in the Church, the sickness in our culture, in our love affairs, etc., etc . . .

O Rose thou art sick. 

The invisible worm, 

That flies in the night 

In the howling storm: 

Has found out thy bed 

Of crimson joy: 

And his dark secret love 

Does thy life destroy.

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For a few days I was spun up because our priest had a question and answer session during Mass about the scandals. I heard about it beforehand and expected the worst. I even went so far to send him an email to see if the rumor was true and to express my hope that the Mass wouldn't be interrupted by angry people venting. In a gesture of attention, he called me to confirm the rumor, to say that the idea had come to him in prayer, and to mention that there is a tradition of questions and answers during Mass (cf school masses). The call just made me sad.  I both was glad and regretted that we were out of town for that Mass.

Happily, my fears of the worst were unrealized, and it sounds like most people appreciated the opportunity to ask questions. They also appreciated our pastor's openness about the issue.  Perhaps the lesson for me is that I shouldn't expect people to behave badly.  I'm afraid I do tend to expect people to behave worse than they usually do in reality. Thus, I am usually happily surprised, instead of disappointed by their behavior. And perhaps that's why I don't feel tempted to leave the church. Priests and bishops, kings and presidents, and all other types of human beings have been acting badly since the beginning of time.  The hypocrisy of the leadership burns worse than anything. It is easy to imagine that Hell exists for this reason.  Who is Lucifer eating in the lowest ring of The Inferno? Judas, Brutus, and Cassius, backstabbers all.

At any rate, our parish also had a holy hour on Friday evening that week. We went, released the kids after 20 minutes of silence to go play on the playground across the street, where the sounds of toddlers and middle schoolers created a sound track for the time of prayer.  I wish more people would have come to share in the /silent/ hour of reflection. This is why our pastor wanted to meet the people at Mass instead of planning another event. Most people just don't come to church other than on Sunday morning.  They want to talk, not sit in silence and pray.

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Speaking of hypocrisy, my freshman son has to read Catcher in the Rye this year.  Anthem of adolescent discontent.  Back to school night was this week. I almost didn't go but decided to catch up with what the freshman needs to keep on top of. I really wanted to go to my junior daughter's teacher's classes, especially her English teacher, because I like him, even though I don't love all the books he assigns (Candide the primary offense). Despite my wish that the kids were at a Catholic school, I have to admit I like their teachers - pretty much every one of them, excepting a PE teacher. I loved the previous principal who left to go be principal at an elementary school, which will free her to spend more time with her three young daughters. She was an English major. I miss seeing her around campus - I felt we connected, even if she made everyone feel that way.  After living in the community less than a month, I felt like she knew our name and our high school kids. After living here for three years, I'm not sure the new principal, formerly the vice principal here, has any recognition of us or our kids.

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Meanwhile, I thought my students would appreciate another anthem of youthful ideals, Walden, but most of them seemed to think Thoreau was preachy and unrealistic, which he is, but still. They also thought the book was boring - accounts of how little can be spent on nails or how deep and wide Walden pond is don't interest them. I can see their point, but I also am a bit disappointed in how few of them seem inspired by his call to freedom from stuff.  Then again, I am inspired but unable to detach.  I understand the liberating effects of his minimalist existence, the joy of traveling lightly through the world, but still I hang on to clothes from 1997 and have trouble letting go of books. Our most recent book club book was about decluttering. It claimed to be about making room for God, but I found the spiritual element to be lacking. Thoreau is more convincing in his linking detachment to freedom, but his is more an Eastern viewpoint; he isn't advocating for spending more time in prayer. The book club book might have been more memorable if it had given more attention to the idea that we briefly discussed after reading Dorothy Day's The Long Loneliness. This is the idea that if we own more than we need we are taking from our less fortunate brothers and sisters in Christ.  The author really didn't really delve into the sins that lead to clutter - greed, covetousness, vanity, selfishness, a lack of trust in God's providence, etc, etc. Combining these two ideas - generosity and overcoming sinfulness in relation to stuff might be more convicting.

So many little things

I have been thinking of many things lately but with little time to process them; perhaps it is time for a quick takes type post?

1. While Northern California is suffering from wildfires, it has been scorching hot down here. School was out one whole day and two half days for heat because temps were in the 90s and the school is not air-conditioned. I was sorry I didn't neglect responsibilities and head to the hills. I have been craving a camping trip this fall, but it doesn't look like we'll have a weekend away after all.  I worried about my new friend I had made because I'm sure she doesn't have air conditioning either, but she called me yesterday out of the blue. I'm glad she remembered me and that now I have her number because a big locked gate surrounds her house, making it impossible to knock on her door.

2. A great deal of thought lately has been devoted to college applications. Our third son is in the thick of essay writing for an early decision deadline. I am once again knocking my head on the wall for not encouraging him to write more this summer.  I vowed this time would be different after the angst and suffering of watching the older boys write and writhe over this process, and yet here we are again with five days until the deadline and essays still needing revision. Life keeps interrupting.

3. One happy distraction is planning for our preschool co-op, which is going well.  About 8 moms and 12 kids (3 of whom are siblings in the 10-16 month range) are meeting Monday mornings at our church for a couple hours of stories, songs, and crafts. I've been having fun picking out activities from cheery online resources, although I am usually the story person and not the craft lady.  The idea is that each mom prepares for a station and that we'll rotate each month. The stations are circle time with prayer, story and sharing, then craft and activity - usually planned by a mom who has an OT background, so she incorporates gross and fine motor skills, then snack, music and movement, free play, and a final story. But someone is always absent, so we have only changed jobs a couple times, which perhaps is just as well because we are getting into a good routine. The kids know what to expect and are happy to be together. We have a good mix of boys and girls.  LC loves it - it is just the right mix of organized activity and unstructured fun. She comes home and asks for homework - coloring pages and letter pages and cut and paste number pages. Then on Wednesdays we have been meeting for a field trip or a park playdate. We were supposed to go to the pumpkin patch yesterday, but with the heat, we just went to the beach.

4. I had an interview the other day to teach at another community college, but I think I blew it accidentally on purpose. At the school where I am teaching now on base, enrollment is way down, so I only have one small class. With another kid heading to college next year, I'd like to add another class to my schedule, although with this pre-school thing, teaching CRE, and managing - or mismanaging - home life, I want the timing to be on my terms. So I filled out some online applications and got an email invitation to an interview. The drawback was that it was at the campus on the north side of the county a half an hour away without traffic.  I liked the dean of the department when I met her and being on a real campus again in a department - as opposed to the little regional office with two classrooms on base where I work now - was invigorating.  But in the interview, I revealed my limited schedule. I haven't heard anything back. I think about emailing to reconnect, but then I think, I don't really want that job anyway. The little one will be in kindergarten in two years. And as much as I think about what I would be doing if I didn't have a three-year-old, I continue to ponder homeschooling again.

5. The class I am teaching is going well. I had a student who actually asked for more work and not just anything - he thought Engl 102 was going to be a literature course, which at other institutions it often is, but not this one. This English 102 is focused on writing research papers. Over the last couple terms, I have trimmed the syllabus because students weren't doing the readings, weren't turning things in. Now should I lengthen it again? I am making up a list of recommended readings and will send him some vocabulary words for discussing vocabulary and a few prompts for paper topics centered around literature. And I'm rethinking my approach.  Meanwhile, I've been frustrated with my daughter's English teacher who consistently gives low marks on writing assignments but gives no feedback or explanation of his scoring. He handed out a rubric at the beginning of the term, but he doesn't indicate how the points he gives correlate to the rubric. In other words, he writes a number on the top of the paper and that's it. No other marks. As a teacher who devotes a lot of time to feedback so my students can actually learn from their mistakes (if they read it), I am almost irrationally irritated. I've told her to go and talk to him, but I also want to send a scornful email accusing him of laziness.d

6. Boy Scouts - Why? Why? Why? This is old news, but if you haven't heard, Boy Scouts of America is now allowing girls to join.  On their website it sounds like Packs and Troops will have the choice of whether or not to admit girls in separate parallel groups or in co-ed "family" groups.  On the one hand, I have often wished that my girls had the option to join something more like Boy Scouts.  My daughter and I both had negative experiences with our one year of Brownies - nothing particularly egregious; we mostly felt bored and we hate to sell cookies.  The challenge to success inherent in the programs offered by Girl Scouts is that the individual leaders determine the direction of the group, and if they are not outdoorsy types, then camping, hiking, boating, and those kinds of things don't happen.  I understand why women and girls are attracted to the program BSA offers.  However, I am skeptical about the success of a co-ed group. BSA already has Venture Crew and Explorers, which are co-ed groups for high schoolers. They haven't really taken off most places. My real fear is that the type of moms who are already involved in Boy Scouts are often the type who take the fun out of things by being bureaucrats and safety police - not that safety and rules aren't important, but the focus on paperwork and what not to do tend to limit what you can do. I am concerned that with more girls involved, more moms will get involved and soon the problems of Girl Scouts will be the problems of Boy Scouts. My first choice would be to continue the program that allows the boys to enjoy time with other boys and male mentors, and give the girls the opportunity to do something similar but different, which may be what happens with these parallel groups. I used to love the program I did with my dad called Indian Princesses (not politically correct anymore) through the YMCA. We camped, carved, burned wood and leather, and learned other outdoors skills. It was super fun and special to spend time with my dad doing outdoorsy, survival things.

The other complaint I would make to BSA is to bemoan the way this announcement was made - a public relations nightmare. Most of our scouting friends were completely caught off guard by this decision. It seems like a tyrannical move on the part of the Board of Directors to make the announcement with little conversation about the change among members. And it feels like a betrayal in a way of their own core principles. Of course, the reason why they did it without discussion is obvious - they didn't want to negotiate.

We are not quitting boy scouts - or scouting. I could be wrong in my pessimistic expectations.  Maybe LC will even be a scout. But I'm not celebrating the change.

7. We went to a dinner the other night (see top photo on the previous post) for the Seabee Historical Foundation.  We were one of the younger couples there. It was a night to honor the Navy's Construction Battalions and Civil Engineer Corps and to thank donors to the Seabee museum. And it was also a night of stories told by retirees about their experiences and about the generation that preceded them and that founded the branch of the Navy that builds and fights. One guy told a story about how during an air raid in Vietnam, the Seabees positioned themselves near the runway. As soon as the enemy finished bombing the runway and had flown off, the Seabees would come in with shovels and dirt and fill the holes. They don't get the glory, but they make it possible for others to do their job without dying.

There was another young couple at our table. The Seabee was from Appalachia, and his wife was from Poland. She had less of an accent than he did. But his hobby is working with programming and 3D printers and the programs he designs in his spare time are so complex I can't explain them here. So he wants to get out of the military soon and work on these models. What impressed me about his story is the contrast of his impoverished youth with his ingenuity and optimism about possibilities. Growing up without running water did not limit his imagination or confidence.

8. I have been missing fall weather and color, missing our older boys, missing having time to go on a weekend camping trip, longing to move away from our busy street corner in a busy city to someplace quieter, more pastoral. Here is link to a trailer for a movie about Wendell Berry: https://vimeo.com/216446791

It's a melancholy time of year, almost November, "no fruits, no flowers, no birds, no leaves - November!"
Remembering that old poem by Thomas Hood (I had to look up the author) reminds me to share a link to an article about Richard Wilbur, perhaps my favorite that has been passed around following his death: https://www.firstthings.com/article/2011/06/gods-patient-stet. From Mystery and Manners.

Bits and pieces

Every year when I change the calendar to November, I think of the epigraph from a poem by Thomas Hood that prefaces the account of the month in Tasha Tudor's A Time to Keep: "No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds - November!"

The aesthetic of her books - and the Prairie books and the Anne books and any number of others - probably contribute to the wistfulness I always feel this time of year for fall and seasonal changes.  Here the change of seasons is marked by resetting clocks for an earlier sunset.

Even as I dream of someday settling east of the Mississippi in a little Cape Cod in a small country town with a picket fence and an English garden, my children declare their love for California, and my college son admits to being homesick for surfing and his toddler sister. I offered to buy him a ticket home for Thanksgiving, even though he has a standing invitation at his grandparents' house only 3 hours from school. He said he could tough it out until Christmas break, but he wants to surf every day he is home. And my high school daughter is thrilled we aren't moving next summer. She wants to live in California always, she says. Woe to me!

Maybe when we do finally move away - although we could just get moved up the coast next - I will feel more love in my heart for California. I should have read more Steinbeck and Stegner. Maybe if we move off of our busy street to a place with a small yard, I will be more content, I think.  But the reality is a spiritual weakness, I fear: an unwillingness to feel at home because of that selfishness that prefers something other.  It is difficult to discern what is a weakness of will and what is a wound that needs healing.

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In other news, we have caught two rats and wounded, mortally, I hope, a third.  He set off the trap and left a trail of blood.  I couldn't find his corpse. More rodents may be in residence, based on the teeth marks in our little pumpkin on the counter, but our traps haven't been sprung in the past few days, nor have I discovered any more droppings since the pumpkin was gnawed before Halloween. That was when I finally set out poison, something I was reluctant to do because I didn't want to smell the dead bodies before I found them.  I have emailed our landlord but haven't really pushed for anything because I feel some what responsible, since we leave out crumbs and candy packages and crusts of sandwiches in abandoned lunches.  Since the rodent alert was raised, food is prohibited from leaving the kitchen/dining area, but this rule is difficult to enforce on the toddler and preteen who slip snacks into their pockets and bags. At least the toddler is now aware that we can't have food in her room because we have "mice," as she told the neighbor the other day.

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Tomorrow is voting day.  A historic moment for our country - was there ever an election when the candidates were more disliked by their own parties?   I feel nothing about this election. I can't believe our country is where it is in terms of candidates.  It's a farce of the darker kind.  The options are so preposterous, so undesirable, so unbelievable, that I can't really get worked up about who wins on Tuesday.  I wasn't going to participate in the election as a conscientious objector, but in the end, because my husband filled out the ballot request online, I did go ahead a vote for a write-in, just to exercise my civic duty.

As a wonderful distraction, the Cubs won the world series! I haven't watched a baseball game in years, but  Illinois is our state of record, so I watched the last two innings of that last game, as did the kids.  That last hit was a more uplifting historic moment.

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It seems like most people I know are doing the mail-in votes this year. Is this because most people I know are military who are registered to vote somewhere else or are California voters, who mail in their votes because they have so many ballot measures to decide yes or no that it takes a week to read the ballot booklet?

The mayoral vote is pretty exciting here, as is the school board contest. I'm trying to read up on the local politics and ignore what is happening on the federal platform, even though I can't vote locally.

It will be interesting to wake up Wednesday morning and read the news.

Reading notes and other news

Spring! So lovely and yet so busy!  Our town had its annual flower show a few weekends ago. It was a lovely event, well attended, but not crowded. The highlight for me was the book sale by the Friends of the Library. I really intended to buy nothing, but walked away with a few of the little green Beatrix Potter books we didn't have, the first five of the Children of Green Knowe series, an Anthony Trollope book, and a Kate Greenaway nursery rhymes book.  I almost, almost bought an old copy of Henry Greene's Loving, a book I have seen recommended several places, but I haven't read. If I knew that I actually liked Henry Greene, then I might have splurged on the $12 book, but I restrained myself, knowing that books that come into our house rarely leave, and I really don't have room for them.
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I was in a reading drought for a time while I have been busy teaching online, but got a spurt of reading done last weekend.  Finished Jason Evert's John Paul the Great: His Five Loves, which had some interesting history bits about St. JPII's near death encounters and his awareness of God's providence, something I am trying to be more aware of - because I struggle with the awareness of how little control over our lives we have, despite having so many decisions to make that seem life-altering.  Also, the perspective of the Cross as a door, and of suffering as an opportunity to both offer up and offer comfort and to become an opportunity for joy, is one that I hope, but fail, to use as my own outlook on life. Bring on the suffering!

Also finished Mr. Blue by Myles Connolly, an odd little book about an odd, saintly person. Meditations on the need for laughter, for living an "amiable, good life," for a new vibrant art alert to the world and the times, on embracing the cross (God's gift to his friends, as he quotes the Cure of Ars), on the beauty of poverty fill the pages.  The introduction, by Fr. John Breslin, compares Blue to Jay Gatsby and his story which was published three years before Mr. Blue. They definitely represent opposite personalities with contrasting hopes and longings.  But Connolly's little book never became as famous as Fitzgerald's, probably because it lacks much plot and has little romance - and what romance it has is spiritual.  It was a fascinating read because it is unusual and unsettling, but it is not a page turner.

Notably, Blue does not like books: "Books are for people who can not make up their minds or have no minds to make up."

I folded a lot of corners in Jacques Philippe's Interior Freedom.  I am meaning to copy down some of his advice, like "Often we may journey in darkness, but we sense that our lives are unfolding in a rhythm we do not control but to which we are happy to abandon ourselves and by which all events are arranged with infinite wisdom."  More soon.
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Good news of the week:  My husband was selected to be a captain in the US Navy! This promotion won't actually take place until September of next year, but it is a welcome relief to know that it will, in fact, take place. After twenty years of service, we are all happy his hard work has paid off. Of course, this means we may have to move earlier than expected - or stay here longer than expected.  Or we may actually get to finish the next two years of this tour. Yet another reminder that our lives are in God's - and the Navy's - hands.
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I just shared a picture on Facebook for Military Child Appreciation month. I'm not usually a frequent Facebook "sharer," but this image of a little boy hugging his mom's leg almost made me cry.  The caption was "Military children say goodbye to more significant people in their lives by age 18 than most people do in a lifetime."  Maybe I'm hormonal, or getting sentimental as I age, but as I think about all the wonderful people who have loved my children over the years, I overflow in gratitude and nostalgia.  I wish my kids didn't have to say goodbye to people they love, or to live far away from the extended family members who love them and form their identity, but I am so grateful that they have met people who have opened their homes and hearts to them. From the friends who watched them in the middle of the night as we were having other babies, the friends who let us stay for weeks while we were househunting, the friends who drove them around to activities, the friends who made them feel like they belonged even though they were outsiders, to the people who taught them in school, at church, on the playing field, in the art room, etc., we've certainly been blessed by the willingness of these people to take us in. I didn't share the Facebook post as a cry for pity, although it it is supposed to raise awareness about the challenges of military life,  but instead to recognize that they have had these significant people care about them.  I know I've said this before but, it doesn't get any easier to say goodbye, but knowing that we'll meet more significant people at the next duty station does offer some consolation.
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Meanwhile, although I am feeling flush with gratitude just now, I've also had a couple run-ins lately that make me titchy. I just want to carp for a minute, so that I can let go of my irritation. One was with a lady who, mentioning she was a newcomer, wrote a letter to the newspaper wondering why some people have signs in their yards that say "A Naval Aviator Lives Here." Why, she wonders, don't we recognize all heroes - the hospice workers, the school teachers, the firemen, etc.?  Well, I want to reply, she is completely free to do so - make signs for everyone! There's no limit to how many signs you can place in your yard! My husband deserves recognition, too, for doing such a great job as a public works officer that everyone's plumbing and HVAC systems are humming along grandly! But why begrudge recognition to the people who actually risk their lives for the safety of our country? These aviators may not be flying combat missions right this minute, but they are preparing for them all the time, and deterring our nation's enemies by being prepared.  But beyond that (there are also a lot of SEALS here, who don't want their homes pointed out), the signs exist here, not because they deserve a sign more than anyone else, but because Naval Aviation has a long and storied history in this particular community.  This place was a military aviation training station before World War I, long before it was a beach community, and many famous fighter pilots, including Admiral Stockdale, whose autobiography of his eight years as a prisoner of war graphically depicts why these guys are honored, trained here.  Anyway, it bugged me that she had to rain on someone else's parade.  Here is a moving article that tells about why the signs were originally posted during the 100th anniversary of military aviation.
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I hope someone writes back to her to share the history of the signs and naval aviation here, but it won't be me because I'm already becoming a nosy busybody myself.  At the most recent middle school track meet, I confronted first a high school girl, and then her pole vault coach about their language.  Some of the middle schoolers, whom I'm helping to coach as a volunteer assistant, were sitting on the edge of the pole vault mat. Apparently they've been asked before not to sit there, but the high school girl felt compelled to use a volley of f-words to ask them to get off the mats.  I went up to her to ask her to please use respectful language to ask them to move or ask one of the coaches to talk to them.  Meanwhile, her coach, a thin, sun baked, hard looking woman, went up to a couple of the 7th grade boys and called them "stupid retards" for not remembering that they've been told not to sit there.  My fourth grader reported this.  Normally, I do not like to act on a child's tattling on an adult.  Usually a kid who is complaining about an adult has done something wrong and doesn't like getting in trouble for it. Now I know those kids shouldn't be on the mats, but I couldn't believe that an adult in a position of leading kids would talk this way, so I asked her. Her reply was "Well, they've got to be either deaf or stupid not to know they aren't supposed to be there. They've been told a hundred times, year after year. It's the same kids..." Her tirade went on for a minute, before I said, "Well, the language you used was really offensive. You've really upset them."  Her response was a hardlipped, "Fine."

The truth is, she didn't really upset them. She really upset ME. I feel like the use of the word "retard," even though I know that when I was growing up, unfortunately, we regularly used it as a derogatory name, has gathered enough negative usage that it is now on par with calling someone the N word.  I wish I had said that to her. Or I wish I had said, "Are you either deaf or stupid because you don't remember your mom telling you a hundred times not to call names?" Woulda, coulda, shoulda.
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Anyway, now I've got that off my chest.  My last gadfly moment was when I wrote a letter to city council about the need for a safe pedestrian crossing at the intersection in front of our house.  The street that runs on the side of our house is a three lane, one-way street that is the main exit off the peninsula for all the employees of the Naval base. And 90% of them leave between 2-4, right when kids are getting out of school. The school is a couple blocks down our street.  A crossing guard is there most days. Some months back the council voted to reject an independent consulting firm's recommendation that stoplights be installed here because a loud portion of the community didn't want stoplights.

But about a month ago, an eighth grade girl was hit on her bike as she crossed the intersection on her way home from school.  I was sitting at home grading papers on the computer when I heard a noise that sounded like a cat dying.  It took a minute for me to register that it was an odd sort of noise, so I went outside. By the time I got out, the police had just pulled up and were leaning over a girl lying still and prostrate in the street.  Her mangled bike was on the sidewalk. Her friend was screeching.  A  young guy was standing next to his big pick up truck parked in the middle of the intersection.  It was obvious what had happened.  I couldn't tell if the girl was alive at first.  The ambulance came wailing up, and as the crew surrounded the girl, she regained consciousness and was responding to them.  Multiple police personnel were questioning witnesses, including the girl's friend who finally switched from wailing to just crying.  I was asked if I saw anything.  The little I saw left me shaking the rest of the afternoon.

The guy in the pick up hadn't seen the girl, and the girl wasn't using the crosswalk to cross, although I have had a crossing guard tell me bikes aren't supposed to use the crosswalk. The ideal is for bikers to dismount and walk their bikes in the crosswalk, but the reality is that even if she had done that, it is hard for the third lane to see pedestrians.

The end of the story is that the girl missed school for almost a month with debilitating headaches and blurry vision.  She didn't break any bones. Her helmet saved her life. I bought two new bike helmets that week for my older kids who don't wear properly fitting helmets. And I've become paranoid about the crossing. The city now has a large sign warning of pedestrians and has placed big orange pylons along the lane lines to slow people down.  I should write a note to thank city council, but it's still a dangerous spot.  Though we live in a small community that likes to call itself a village, this road is a highway.  On the advice of a friend, I've taken to giving each of the kids a blessing as they leave the house. The baby blesses them, too. They are in His hands!

Pulling on the reins

You know how old movies used to show calendar pages fluttering off into the wind to indicate the passing of time?  That's the way our days feel around here.  We are working on college applications again - round two.  I am seriously thinking about soliciting my services as an essay commentator for college apps. I have great ideas. I wish my son would use them. 

Instead of doing homework, my sophomore likes to play with clay.

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We are also enjoying sports, swimming, entertaining, and talking about Halloween costumes. I felt like a failure as a mom when my fourth grader thought All Saints Day was the day after Halloween because the church wanted to have something holy after Halloween. Wrong way around there.  I tried to explain, but she turned off her ears. And she absorbed even less of my explanation of All Souls' Day after a viewing of the Book of Life movie.  Day of the Dead skulls and brightly colored flowers just seem to be an extension of Halloween decor (of which she thinks we need more, more, more) to her.

Go Tritons! They are playing the "Torreys," which are a kind of pine tree.
The high school mascot is a tiki guy. Kind of fun mascot suit.  

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I also wonder if my mom license will be suspended for the fat lip Baby sprouted after she fell off my bed. I didn't see the accident, but I think she hit her lip on my bed rail. Or smacked it on the floor. However she did it, her lip was purple and swollen for days. We went to the dentist and have been told to watch it for infection. One of her front teeth is loose and may have to be pulled. And it is jammed into her gum, which means her adult tooth may have been bruised and could wind up discolored.  A stroke against vanity. 

That's one fat lip.

Hello, Blue Angels!

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In other news, we went to the zoo! A life long dream of mine has been to visit the San Diego zoo because when I was little it had all the cool animals. And it still does: pandas, polar bears, orangutans, hippos, koalas. But I think a lot of other zoos have caught up in quality.   We were all walked out after completing the entire tour of the zoo.

This is the way I feel on school mornings

Or maybe I feel like this resting meerkat.

Or maybe like this relaxed orangutan. 

My camera skills are lacking, but really I identify with this mother wrestling her baby bonobo.

Here I am with all the monkeys.

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Shortly after this event I was talking with another mom of 3 or 4 at a scouting event. We were laughingly comparing stories of injuries, when I realized I better stop sharing soon, because she was running out of misadventures, and I was just just getting started with tales of stitches, sprains, and casts. 

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Our youngest son is just beginning Boy Scouts.  He never was a cub scout, but his three older brothers are all Eagle Scouts.  My husband balked at doing cub scouts because of all the crafts and popcorn sales, but he's agreed to stay involved with scouting as our sixth grader is old enough to begin.  He doesn't have a lot of enthusiasm for it right now, although he is making some friends in the troop.  This troop does a lot of activities (last weekend archery, this weekend a twelve mile trek, camping the following weekend), but it seems we have some event or other nearly every weekend, and this troop must not do very much fundraising because the fees for these things are much higher than elsewhere. Is it just California? Is it living in an area of affluence?  Even the public school field trips and church youth group socials seem to cost twice as much as elsewhere.  It feels like there's a hole in my wallet where all the money is running out.

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This is a hallway at the high school. It says
"Somewhere something incredible is waiting to be known."

I complain, but the truth is we have plenty and job security.  I wonder sometimes how we kept to a budget when my husband's salary was a third of what it is now. Of course we had fewer kids and smaller kids and fewer expectations. Providentially things continue to work out - one thing may cost more, but we are driving much less and saving on gas, so we spend less on something else.

Soon enough this stage of life - of feeding, housing, clothing and entertaining teenagers - is going to come to an end.  One more will fly the nest next fall. Of course, Baby will just be beginning her pre-teen years when the next youngest turns 18.  How will we fill the time? How will we make use of all the blessings we have been given?  One of the characters in Lodge's book I mentioned in the last post turns to hedonism in his middle age; another wants to be a missionary or social worker. Ironically, they happen to be married to each other.  I can certainly see this happening in our marriage -  my husband will be ready to enjoy the fruits of his labor himself instead of always passing them to the kids, while I feel more drawn to asceticism.  But admiring asceticism and practicing it are two different things, and unless I continue to shore up my faith and to practice acts of self-sacrifice now (no more snitching Halloween candy!), I'll never be able to make do with less.

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Today I celebrate my success in making do with less was refusing to buy a cute little tufted chair at a garage sale that was only $1.  I was really tempted - that's like free! We have an old chair that is ready to retire.  But this little find had white jacquard upholstery - it was only lightly soiled, but enough so that it would have bothered me until I spent $100 to have it reupholstered or slipcovered, and it wasn't that cute or sturdy. So I left it at the garage sale for someone else to find. (Although I admit I bought a potted plumeria for $5, which was also a bargain because of its size. And, following Maria Kondo's advice, it will bring me joy by reminding me of Guam and adding some color to our little yard.)

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Now it's time to move into clean-up mode. We have about 50 teen-aged boys coming over for supper after football practice.  It's a tradition of this team to have team dinners that night before home games. I don't have to cook - other mom's are bringing pans of pasta, salad, bread, and brownies. But I do need to make sure I have clean bathrooms and the dishes are put away.  And that we have enough chairs. Just read Elizabeth Foss's article about hospitality, and so I'm not feeling stressed about cleaning up. Plus our guests are teen-aged boys.  They are used to stinky bathrooms, and perhaps even prefer them it seems to me.  To underscore Foss's point, I think our most successful efforts at hospitality are the spontaneous ones, where I don't worry about menus or flowers or cleaning cupboards and showers because I don't have time to fret, plan, or bark at the kids.  And to be honest, I regret some opportunities for hospitality that we have missed out on at our last duty station because I was too tired or too self-conscious about having a small house to invite someone over. 

I wish more neighbors would stop by for tea while I was in my pajamas like she mentions, although they'd have to catch me early to find me still in PJ's... 

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Random notes

I know living in small spaces is trendy right now, but I have to admit that despite the many drawbacks of our new home in terms of being on busy corner and having no yardspace, I am finding many things that I appreciate about living in a bigger house.  When we lived in a small house, my organizing mantra was "like goes with like, everything in its place."  Anything out of place made the entire place look messy.  High usage in the bathrooms meant frequent cleanings. I didn't like to try to navigate the piano/desk corner because of the tight space made smaller by piles because I couldn't reach my filing cabinet, so papers rarely were filed. (Who files papers anymore anyway?) I felt like I was always stuffing things into a space not quite big enough: sheets, towels, food, dishes, clothes . . .

Now that we have a bigger house, I find I do have more to clean, but things don't look messy quite so quickly.  I can use my sewing machine without being a contortionist to get to it. The kids can lay on their floors. We can access things in the garage without excavating. I don't have to stack dishes precariously because we have cabinet space (although most of the cupboards are low and accessible to the toddler destructo.) The space is a blessing that makes some of the other quirks bearable.

Multiple trips up and down the stairs have convinced me we need upstairs sets and downstairs sets of many things, especially cleaning supplies. One set of diaper changing supplies upstairs and one down, one spray and wash upstairs and one down, bathroom cleaners in each of the 3 bathrooms (luxury! But we still have people knocking on doors to get to a toilet).  Multiple trash cans in a large room; multiple sets of bath towels, stored separately from beach/pool towels. Cups in every bathroom. Shoe bins by the front and the back door.  Each day I think of something to make life easier.

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Last week temperatures were in upper 80s/lower 90s. Hot but not unbearable. Nonetheless, the kids were released early from school three days in a row for heat days.  A new concept for me. I can understand snow days - you might die if you try to drive to school on icy roads. I suppose some kid or teacher could die here if they overheated, but I don't know that lives were threatened.  The reasoning behind heat days might be that learning is difficult when made torpid by the temperature.  Most houses and classrooms here lack air conditioning, so they are uncomfortable and not conducive to productivity on a hot day. Kids were thrilled. They may not have been learning about math and science, but they were learning about cultures.

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I am teaching religious ed. again. Trying to move into volunteering slowly, but I am happy to jump in on teaching the faith.  Keeps me thinking about what we need to be talking about at home for catechesis since the older kids are all in public school.  And I really like the Director of Religious Education at the parish.  With all the moving we have done, I have found that the best way to get to feel at home in a new place is to get connected at the parish, and the best way to do that is to offer to do something no one else is stepping up to do.

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I was looking at old photos the other day and felt that nostalgia for the "olden days" when the oldest kids were babies.  I think I was much more intentional back then than I realized.  I remember feeling bored and sometimes purposeless when I was home alone with toddlers, especially when my husband was underway or on watch so often back, gone for days and weeks sometimes.  But I realized this morning when I was at the park with Baby what a gift it is to have the free time to just be present with babies. So often I have my mind on my to-do list, or I just don't have long stretches of day when there isn't anything to do (like right now when Baby is napping and I should be working on other paperwork, cleaning, shopping for a clarinet for the middle schooler...),  This morning was the first time in a long time that I didn't have anything on the calendar (although I missed a officer spouses' club coffee...) and didn't have anything really pressing to do at home, so that I could follow Baby around on the swings and slides without rehearsing the to-do list.  She loves the park located in the center of the village. Other children are always there, providing entertainment and education.  Today she followed a pre-schooler and climbed all the way the ladder on the big kids' jungle gym. Made me nervous.

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Meanwhile her big brother in college also makes me a little nervous. He decided to join the rugby club. A couple evenings ago, one of our friends passed through South Bend and took him out to eat. He reported that our oldest has a sore shoulder from last weekend's game. Ugh. I did give him our insurance information and instructions on how he can go to any ER without first obtaining an authorization and he can get non-emergency medical care simply by calling for authorization, but realizing he needs medical care is the first step.  Other than sore muscles, he seems to be doing well at school.

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More on Baby: She actually slept through the night two nights in a row recently. Just turned seventeen months.  I never really believe people who say their babies sleep through the night when they are less than a year.  I've never had one of those kinds of babies.  Mine only start sleeping through the night when we stop night nursing.  Giving this up has been a challenge, though. She would nurse all night long if I let her, but I'm beginning to worry about her dental health and my mental health if we both don't get more sleep.  So finally, now that we have been here a month, school has started, and we have something of a routine in place, I've decided that she should start to learn how to sleep in her own bed.  Despite initial success of two nights in a row of a solid eight hours of sleep, the past two nights have been a struggle. Last night she said her first sentence: "Stop it, Mommy," when I was trying to rub her back to get her to fall asleep.  Maybe by the time she is two, we might get some sleep around here.

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Some recent reads: Finished Up a Road Slowly by Irene Hunt, one of my old "Young Adult" books that is so much more wholesome than some of the YA books on the shelves at the library. I've taken to previewing most of the books my preteen daughter brings home. I did like Heartbeat by Sharon Creech, the story of a girl who runs for the love of running. Short and simple, but big on zest for living.  Same thing with Hunt's book - a simple story of a girl whose mother dies, so she goes to live with her spinster aunt and alcoholic unwed uncle. She develops a love of storytelling, like so many young heroines in literature, falls in love with the wrong boy, then realizes in time that it is her childhood friend she loves best.  Episodic, evocative of another time and place, romantic but not lurid, it might be dull to today's reader. I'm trying to get my daughter to read it, but right now all three of my middle kids are wrapped up in Rick Riordan novels in anticipation of watching the movies.

I also have been plowing my way through The Old Curiosity Shop by Charles Dickens. I've started and stopped this novel many times. This one and Bleak House I can't seem to finish.  Too much of the dark side of Victorian England? I just can't stand Quilp, and I'm not attached to Little Nell enough to stay connected. However, I am determined to stick with this book to the end. One of my recent resolutions is to try to read some of the old books I have been packing around for years. I have a number of books that I haven't read that may need to find a new home if I don't read them before we move again.

Took a break from Dickens to read The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie by Alan Bradley, which is the book club pick for the library this month, so extra copies were stationed by the checkout. Easy to read mystery set in a old English country house with an 11 yr old girl as the detective. Entertaining, but not as detailed as I would like. Maybe I fell asleep while reading too often and skipped over some sections, but it seemed like some sections could have used more explanation or back story.

Have I mentioned how much I love our library here? It has an outstanding children's section, a beautiful building, a lovely, quiet reading room, and a great, large selection of books for the older crowd. We love toddler story time, and the movie collection is thorough. It does cost 50 cents a week to borrow a DVD, but that charge is much less than Netflix and the offerings are greater. Last week we watched four episodes of Fr. Brown mysteries from the 1970's. I was surprised how much the kids enjoyed them - the filmmaking is rough to say the least. But a good detective story always entertains!

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In other news: We now have pictures on the walls, closets organized, and have had a party.  We also have started the fall sports season with volleyball, football, and flag football underway.  I took the middle kids to a performance of Westside Story at the little local theater, and the second youngest daughter and I did a mini-triathlon and a 5k run.  The middle son and I have planted a backyard container pizza garden and a couple flower pots in the front after I hit up a garage sale and scored some plants and pots. These are all signs of settling in.  I look less and less at the "For Rent" section on Facebook and in the paper, and am finding more and more to be grateful for.  Walking home from taking the second youngest daughter to school, I had one of those moments of not exactly joy but contentedness, as I admired the neighbors' gardens and realized I hadn't been in the car for five days. Perhaps what I love best about our new home is that we can walk everywhere.  I love not driving. I do have to drive to the grocery store soon, though.  And I have an itch to see some more of our new county. I think this weekend we might play tourist in our hometown. There is a lot to see and do around here. Plus I need to drive out to the suburbs to look at a clarinet for sale...

Strolling the Embarcadero by the USS Midway

An earlier trip to the Museum of Man

Exploring the Egyptian exhibit

Pharaoh and his queen

A walking stick from the folk art museum

We thought about getting married here.

Basilica of Our Lady: from the trip to South Bend a month ago

A favorite climbing tree

God smiles on this place

Candles aflame for a good year

One of the many outposts that make this place Catholic and beautiful

Watching ducks

At the playground

Black box theater set for Westside Story

Friday nights

Runner girl

A medalist in her age group

Shopping at IKEA wears everyone out. Good thing they have FREE coffee if you sign up for emails!

Homemade Chia pet/microgreens yum.

Sunset over the library

body surfing

The beaches here are flecked with gold

Nightlights