Ebb and Flow

Fall finally arrived in the upper Plains. For some, the loss of summer is nearly unbearable. For others, it is a blessed relief. No surprise that I identify with the latter. As my long-suffering husband often hears me say, "If I wanted New Orleans weather, I would live in New Orleans." Unfortunately, he had to hear that statement two months longer than usual. Thank you, El Nino.

The change of seasons provides a soothing orderliness to those of us who are perched upon the northern latitudes of the Earth. And there is no better way to experience this than a vacation during the transition months. My husband and I attempt to schedule a getaway during late spring and mid-fall. The chance to submerge oneself into the sights and sounds of a shiny new season is a delicious experience.

Spring is filled with tree buds, warbling birds and scurrying little critters. The air is ripe with possibilities and the sensation of warmth nuzzles the dormant into life. Our back road travels reveal palettes that stun the eyes. Sunlight streams into our cabin window, giving us longer days as the Earth begins its tilt toward the sun. Frogs croak their love songs when daylight wanes. Twigs snap as creatures of the night begin their nocturnal business.  Stars sparkle on a black velvet canvas.

Tourist businesses are also infected with the potential of spring. Shops are spiffed up in anticipation of a new season. Clerks are friendly and eager to please. Conversations are inquisitive and complimentary. Shelves are stocked with an assortment of come hither goodness. Outdoor tables are shifted into place as the smell of grilled food drifts through the air. Fudge shops display their wares in street side window cases, enticing chocoholics to abandon all restraint.

Fall crackles forth with eye-popping brilliance. The air is ripe with the pungency of burning wood and decaying leaves. The sepia toned landscape is filled with brown subtleties and blood red splashes from sumac trees. Daylight hours dwindle as the Earth's northern axis turns its back on the sun. Shadows slide across our cabin windows with a reminder that winter is on its way. Crows and chickadees banter back and forth with their avian conversations.  The darkness of night is entwined with brisk air and the sharp light of the moon. The terrain prepares for its winter rest.

Tourist caterers also begin their fade into fall. Heavily discounted items are pulled to the front of shops. Shelves are minimally supplied and boxes are scattered around, awaiting their winter storage. Restaurants list the menu items that are no longer available. Clerks experience a fragility that reflects a long season nearing its end. Customer service becomes less urgent and more obligatory. Hours of business are tapered and "closed for the season" signs begin to pop up.

Many of us in the northern plains may never experience the froth of the sea pounding on our doorsteps or the subtle recession of waves pulling water away from the landscape. We do, however, understand the power of masses revolving in our universe. We know and feel the rhythmic surge of spring and the ebb of fall. And we are grateful for the wonder of it all.

A Gift

Some folks line up early for concert tickets. I line up early for a car wash. Recently, I scored a hit by being the first one in line. It was a Saturday morning and the OPEN sign hadn't started flashing yet. The kids with the pants falling down to their calves adjusted their earbuds and coughed up the phlegm of a morning that arrived a little too soon. One young lad was doing the hippety hop as he squished his feet into a pair of knee high rubber boots. The jumbo fans roared into action and the scrubbing mechanical dreadlocks started swirling around, awaiting their first grubby vehicle. Finally, the OPEN sign crackled on and a young man approached my window. I gave him my order and left my vehicle in the hands of the saggy pants boys and the chamber of soap and water.

As I handed my signed receipt to the cashier, I noticed that he took a special interest in my name. He looked up at me and said, "I thought I recognized you. You were my teacher." I studied the young man's metal studded face and responded as I have learned to do after so many years in my profession, "Wow." (slight pause) "Please forgive me, but you will have to remind me of your name." He introduced himself and fortunately, I remembered which school and grade level I was teaching when he was in my class. We enjoyed a brief nostalgic moment and I stepped aside so he could wait on the next customer.

My vehicle was getting its final wipe down when I noticed a little kerfuffle near my vehicle. Soon, a young man entered the waiting area and informed me that he was ordering my vehicle through the line again. "They didn't vacuum the hatchback area and there are still bugs stuck to the front." I thanked him for his thoughtfulness and told him that they had forgotten to vacuum that area the last time I was at their car wash. I didn't catch it until I got home and I didn't feel the need to go back and report it. "Well", he said, "We'll get it right this time."

I went back to reading my book as I awaited another car wash round, thankful for the chance to read a few more pages and have a clean vehicle, too. I read just a couple paragraphs when my former student stopped by my chair and handed me a card. "Here, this if for you and your inconvenience today." I looked at the card and it said: Good for one free car wash. I looked up at my student and saw that he was grinning from ear to ear. My heart was overwhelmed with gratitude and I told him that I didn't mind waiting because it gave me a chance to continue reading my book. He giggled a little and headed back to his station.

I left the car wash with another thank you to my student and a quick smile and wave to the attendant who took such good care of my vehicle. As I eased out into the street, I got a little misty-eyed. It is no secret that there are times when teaching sucks the life out of a person. Mischievous students, heart-breaking family dynamics, endless paperwork, demanding parents, overflowing e-mails and countless needs can make one very weary. Funny, how a little card for a free carwash from a former student can wipe all of that away.

Maybe, we do make a difference after all.

All I Really Need to Know

About twenty-five years ago, a small treatise entitled All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten was published. It sold over seven million copies and is still quoted in graduation speeches and motivational talks. As I entered my mother's assisted living facility a few days ago, it occurred to me that all I really need to know about life I am learning at her place of residence. I don't have the patience or skill to write a bestseller so I will condense my thoughts into a short list entitled, All I Really Need to Know I Learned at an Assisted Living Facility.

1) Dining is better done together--My mom has an assigned seat for all her meals and she is joined by five other residents at her table. They have become her dining family. They trade newsy facility gossip, talk about the weather and bemoan their aches and pains. And as with any good family, there are irritations. Mom still cannot abide by folks who do not eat their vegetables. Maybe that is why I love vegetables to this day. Well, maybe not eggplant.

2) Slow down--On a recent Saturday, I scurried into the facility with my hands full of stuff for mom. My mind was on overdrive as I ticked off items on my mental to-do list. Before turning down the hall to mom's room, I was greeted by the sound of a beautiful voice singing a favorite song of mine. I followed the sound and realized that a band was playing for the residents. I put my bags down and joined my mother. In between each song, mom leaned over and whispered, "Do you have time to stay?" Each time I replied, "It is this or go home to housework." She would giggle and we would enjoy the next song. Truth to be told, I didn't have the time to stay, I thought. But the music chipped away at my restlessness and I found myself lost in the joy of calm. We finished the concert with a hand clapping version of You Are My Sunshine. Some folks were awake for it, others were lost in their dreams, all were entertained.

3) Dress for comfort--Residents sporting elastic waistbands, Sass shoes and cozy sweaters are the fashionistas of the place. No stilettos or Spanx to be had. Mom says the only thing most residents have to worry about is a bad case of chair head so she dutifully runs her hair pick through her silvery hair each time we prepare to leave her room.  She is right. I have seen some serious cases of chair head in the place. It is to be feared.

4) Live in the moment--My mother is able to recall how many quarts of beans she canned each summer when she was raising all of us on the farm many years ago. But, she cannot remember what she said two seconds ago.  Loss of short-term memory has left her struggling to make sense of a world of appointments, checkbooks and recipes. So, we are learning to enjoy each moment as it happens. She still laughs at all my lame jokes as we sip Lady Grey tea together and she always says, "Thanks for stopping by" as she accompanies me to the veranda of her new home. She may not remember that I visited her, but she enjoys the time we spend together.

Feel free to use any part of my list in your next graduation speech. Just don't forget to wear your Sass shoes and comb your hair.

Hacks

Sometimes I am completely baffled by the morphing of words in our English language. Case in point, my name. I was christened Gay Lenore by my parents who were very happy to have a healthy baby girl after losing a son to spinal meningitis. Now, my name causes puzzled looks from younger generations and a hesitation to speak it aloud. I cherish my name but I have adopted variations in an attempt to make it easier for others to cope.

Lately, the word "hack" has bewildered me. Prior to the age of technology, the word had three meanings for me. One involved weapons of cutting destruction, e.g. The cat hacked a mouse to death. Another meaning involved bronchial activity, e.g. The cat hacked up another hairball. A third meaning referred to endurance, e.g. The cat was unable to hack the long ride to the vet. A more recent definition emerged with computers, e. g. All my cat videos were hacked.

I will spare you the complete etymology of the word "hack" but apparently the first known use of the word had to do with rearing young hawks. Fast forward a few generations and the word now means shortcut or helpful tip, e.g. One hack for stopping cats from upchucking on your carpet is removing all your carpet.

In the spirit of the latest meaning of the word hack, I have a few hacks of my own.

1) Fruit juice--No, I do not create cutesy drinks from fruit gone bad. I do, however, need a small amount of juice on occasion for a recipe. I am not a juice drinker so excess juice goes to waste. Enter, frozen juice concentrate. I can scoop out as much apple or orange concentrate as I need to make just the right amount of juice. No more aging juice containers staring me down in the fridge.

2) Golf pencils--I am a middle school teacher and there is one constant in my life. Students with no pencils. It is a time wasting activity for all parties as said students bother classmates and the teacher for a writing utensil. My blood pressure demands a simpler solution. Golf pencils. Boxes and boxes of them, 144 per box. Each stubby little sharpened pencil removes one more excuse for not being productive. Productivity equals happy teacher.

3) Dim lights--I was probably a mole in another life due to my aversion to bright lights. There are advantages to pale lighting besides matching my skin. Dust is less visible when the lights are down low and a bad hair day can seem a little less repugnant. Take my advice and view the world with a little less garishness.

4) Dressing rooms--Is there anything worse than trying on clothes in a fluorescent-lit, 2x2 space? I discovered that if I take my glasses off, I can focus on what is important, comfort and fit. I no longer obsess about the misshapen image staring back at me from the circus mirror. The hazy image is now my friend and I am able to shop without terror.

Enjoy a little hacking this week, be it chopping, coughing, saving time or fledging a baby hawk.

To-Do

It is back to school crunch time for students and teachers. My to-do list seems to grow longer by the minute despite my attempts to cross off accomplished tasks. It is also difficult to finish jobs when unforeseen circumstances set up speed bumps along the way. One day last week was particularly fraught with dead ends.

First on my list was a car wash. My vehicle was in desperate need of a cleansing, inside and out. The birds had baptized the exterior with a Picasso-like painting and the interior was sprinkled with the remnants of several 240 mile trips to and from my mother's house in preparation for the sale of her house. Added to the mix was Cheeto dust, Cheez-It crumbs, empty water bottles and one very large cedar chest. Definitely, time for a purge. As I approached the car wash, I noticed that it seemed a little slow. Yeah, no long wait. Then I read the sign: Closed for the week due to the installation of new equipment. Drat. Move on to item two on the list.

I needed a bag load of items from the drug store such as toothbrush, vitamins, shampoo, deodorant, the essentials for good hygiene and health. Unlike the car wash, the drug store parking lot was packed so no chance of it being closed. The extra service vehicles, however, should have been a red flag. Upon entering the store, it was evident that a water crisis had recently occurred. There were missing ceiling tiles, whirring fans and swishing mops everywhere. Many sections of the store were cordoned off by yellow caution tape. I attempted to weave my way through the maze but it became apparent that the majority of the items on my shopping list were located in the do-not-enter zones. I left the store with two items from my list. Not good.

On to the office supply store for printer ink. After years of staring blankly at rows and rows of ink cartridges, wondering which mystery box matches my computer, I finally problem solved my way to a solution. I have a picture on my phone of my printer and the ink box I need. Brilliant for my old lady brain. Duh, if you are under forty.

Pride goeth before a fall. As I hustled toward the store I realized that my phone was sitting on the file cabinet at home. My low-tech brain does not view my phone as an appendage so this is a common occurrence. Time was dwindling so I took a chance on purchasing an ink cartridge that looked vaguely familiar. No surprise that the only thing correct in the purchase was the brand name. Grrr. Add another trip to the to-do list.

At this point I added one last item to my to-do list: stop chasing. I tucked my crinkled list into my purse and called on a friend for what should have been on the top of my to-do list: spend time with people I love. I was able to accomplish that task and my to-do list woes faded away.

I hope your to-do list includes something joyful and relaxing this Labor Day weekend. All work and no play gives one a bad case of the grumpies.

Luscious

We all have moments when only one descriptor will suffice. The ragged hangnail dangling on my index finger is gruesome. The giant orange sun sinking below the horizon is stunning. The toddler riding along in a little red wagon is charming. The grease spot eternally clinging to my shirt is annoying. The cardinal singing from the treetop is refreshing.  The black and blue spot turning green on my knee is creepy. The incessant heat and humidity of summer is revolting. The zucchini plant churning out monstrous squash is fascinating.

And there are moments of lusciousness. Here are a few of mine.

1) Cool fronts--I am not a fan of sultry weather. I can achingly feel the dollars slip out the door as my air conditioner desperately attempts to squeegee the heat and humidity out of the air.  A cool front unloads sweet Canadian air into our midst, giving us the opportunity to open up our windows and breathe freshened air. Lusciously divine.

2) Peaches--I have eaten my share of sad, fibrous peaches which makes it all the better when I bite into a truly good one. The juice drizzles down my chin and arm as I slurp the sweetness from the silky fruit. The sticky aftermath just asks for more. Cobblers, crisps and pies are given new life and bedazzlement. Luscious ambrosia.

3) Socks--My feet enjoyed a great deal of freedom this summer but the time is quickly approaching when they will require a veil of protection. I have plenty of run-of-the-mill functional socks that dutifully give my feet a place to go before a shoe is donned. The socks that give me pleasure however are the cushy, well formed, non-slipping, cozy kind. They are weekend socks that pair nicely with a cup of coffee and a new novel. They are prized for their Goldilocks status--not too tight and not too loose. Snuggly lusciousness.

4) Bleach--Sad, but true. I love bleach. It is a cheap and effective cleaner and few germs stand a chance against it. I am certainly not a clean-a-holic but I cannot resist the power of bleach. I do not want the lemon scented, ocean breeze scented or fresh linen scented brands. I want the hard stuff and I respect what it can do for me and the grubbiness in my life. Luscious sanitation.

5) Autumn trees--They take my breath away. The cornucopia of colors splash the environment with delight. Blood red, lemon yellow, dusty tangerine, mottled green, rusty brown, grassy chartreuse and rich burgundy flutter in the breeze. Add a cool front to the mix and I am woozy with glee. Luscious kaleidoscope.

6) Cheese--I am not ashamed to say that I am addicted to the stuff. I love it in all shapes and sizes. It is tasty sliced, chunked, shredded, creamed or melted. It can be mild, sharp, peppery or tangy. It pairs well with sweet or savory. And nothing says finger licking good like a bag of puffs coated with fluorescent orange cheese dust. Luscious contentment.

I hope you experience a little lusciousness this week. Enjoy.

The Dream

The start of a new school year means many things. Shopping carts fill up with notebooks, pencils, art supplies and locker organizers. Clothing racks get a workout as new duds for school are perused and purchased. Squirmy toes are stuffed into shoes abandoned since last spring. Calendars fill up with tighter schedules. Swimming suits are given a final dip before being tucked into the bottom drawer. Frantic vacations are taken as the clock winds down.

Teachers also hop on the bus of increased activity. Posters are released from dark drawers and given wall space. Lesson plans are forged and polished. Books are counted and organized. Supplies are inventoried and distributed. Meetings portend the back to school frenzy. A sense of urgency wells up in the souls of all involved.

School cannot begin, however, until teachers experience The Dream. The Dream takes on many variations but the theme is always the same. I AM NOT READY! A typical dream scenario for me is a classroom full of restless, edgy students waiting for my arrival. The clock mercilessly creeps its way to the official start time of the day. I run at heart pounding speeds through a labyrinth of hallways like a rat in a maze. Each door I open leads me into the classroom of another teacher. I can't catch my breath but...I. do. not. give. up. Panic besets me as I round another corner only to see the principal. The mind games set in. Perhaps he is on his way to my room because he has been alerted to my tardiness. Maybe I should just catch up to him and confess my inadequacies once and for all. Run, check a door, run, check a door. The insanity takes its toll. Thoughts of a job loss take over. All the hallways start to look the same. It is no use. I am toast. My legs give out and I slip to the floor in an agonizing nod to a complete surrender. And then I notice the final assault. I forgot to put on my skirt.

Of course, I wake up at this point in the dream with my heart beating at fearful speeds. My mind takes a quick assessment of the situation. Is there a room full of students waiting for me? Not yet. Do I have lesson plans ready to go? Getting close. Is my classroom organized for the first day? Almost. Are my supplies purchased and organized? Yes. Do I know what I am going to wear on the first day? The skirt is ready.

I have learned a few things in my 27 years of teaching. The opening bell on the first day of school will happen whether I feel prepared or not. The butterflies in my stomach will take flight with the butterflies my students are experiencing. There will always be one more lesson plan to write and one more copy to be made. The computer will go all glitchy on me just when I need it most.

And the coffee will always be on so I can chase the dreams and cobwebs out of my head.