Musings on my birthday

Wow, tomorrow I will be 58.  That's amazing....because, in so many ways, I feel as though I am still about 16.  I have three adult children, and in some ways, I feel as though I still know nothing about living or how to be a good mom or a good teacher.  How is that I have grown old?  When I look at my terrific kids, I feel it is appropriate that they are 25, 22, and 20.  It seems right.  I remember their babyhoods and their childhoods with smiles.  But, it doesn't seem right that I'm 58.  58.  That's a pretty big number.  Lots of people don't make it to 58.  Have I done anything that really matters in my 58 years on the planet?  Have I made a difference?  I have loved almost every moment of those 58 years.  There have some times that I could have done without.  Childbirth was NOT fun.  Losing my mom and dad were heart wrenching experiences.  Watching my husband struggle with dementia is not great.  But, still, most times have been good.  There have been far more smiles than frowns; more happiness than sadness; more hope than fear.  I've loved my job and I have amazing people in my life who make a difference for good each day.

Could it really have been so long ago that I sat in my bedroom with  my best friend, Connie, and dreamed about who I would marry and what my children would be like?  I feel caught up in some kind of cosmic time warp.  Wasn't it just yesterday that Connie and I were sharing dreams and stories?  And, I miss my mom and dad.  Hardly a day goes by that I don't think of them and even start to pick up the phone to tell them about this or that event.  Becca had a dream the other night that dad was sitting in the big chair in the living room.  He told her he loved her.  Can it really be that he's been gone from us for 6 months already?

There are no easy answers to these questions, but the fact that I can pose them gives me hope.  Here's to the next 58.  I will never stop loving, or learning, until I stop living.  And, in the end, that is all that I really want.

Awaiting a New Pope

As a lifelong Catholic, I remember the popes John XXIII, Paul VI, John Paul I, John Paul II, and Benedict (I’ve probably missed one).  The Cardinals are meeting in conclave and I, like many Catholics, am mildly interested in the results.  I do not think that my personal happiness or that of my family or my salvation hinges on the question of the personality or even the office of the next pope.  Frankly, and I say in this in all sincerity, I find the office of the Pope a bit redundant.  Recently, a friend of mine was told by her school district that her services were “redundant” and that she would not be offered a contract for 2013.  I’m not sure what “redundant” means to the school district and she would never, ever be considered redundant.  However, I do believe, perhaps, the office of the Pope has become so.  How I live my life each day has very little to do with the politics or personality of the pontiff.  I can admire him (and how sad that I can never say her) but he really makes no difference in how I go about teaching, how I respond to the challenges of living as a moral Christian in the 21^st century, or even, really, what I believe about the sanctity of life, or the institution of marriage, or the nature of God.  My parish priest.  He makes a difference.  He challenges me, argues with me, humbles me.  But, even he is not directed by a far off figure 3,000 miles (and many centuries) away.  

Growing up, my brothers, mom, and I were the only Catholics in our profoundly Protestant midwestern hometown.  And, my best friend and I had many spirited arguments about the papacy.  Literally, she had been told that in a neighboring Catholic community, the houses of the nuns had tunnels that connected with the rectory.  And, although she was never a bigot, many in our small town had no idea of even what to think about a Pope.  For many Americans, even Catholics, the pope is too foreign, too removed from how Americans, and the American Church, lives out the gospel message.

And, so American Catholics wait for white smoke.  And, I think for most of us, it will be met with interest and perhaps some hope; but, for many of us, the Pope is too foreign, too distant, too removed from the way in which we live our lives to make a real difference.  In the 21^st century, the Pope reminds me of the monarchs of England..historically significant but redundant.

2013

A new year looms...and in some ways it's a scary world out there.  Fiscal cliff, recalcitrant Congress, school shootings, children who are young adults navigating the shoals of relationships, careers, and college, a Diocese attempting to close a school and open another.  It's a year without my dad, the first I've faced in 57 years.

And, so I have been thinking about this new year full of possibilities, hope, and questions.  I'm not much of one for resolutions, but, I have put together a list of things that I want to do to make life richer and fuller.

1.  I want to laugh more.  Bill accused me just yesterday of having no sense of humor.  I happen to think I do have a sense of humor; I just don't think most of what he says is funny.  But, that said, I think it is important for us to laugh at the absurdities of life, at bad jokes, and sometimes at ourselves.

2.  I want to learn to make a good pie, with an excellent piecrust.  I think I finally have the best equipment, a Cuisinart that the kids bought me for Christmas.  So, even though I'm trying to lose weight, I want to make a pie like my grandmother did.  Wow, were they good!  My grandfather Wright always claimed that he would eat dessert first so that he could enjoy it.  I believe she made a pie each week for him.

3.  I want to learn the names of the birds that I've been feeding all winter.  I know the standard ones, the Cardinal and the woodpecker; but, I'd like to know the others.  I put up dad's bird feeder and I think I would like to add another.

4.  I want to stick with the exercise regime that I've started.  Ok, I'm on day 2; but still.  I've been trekking to Legacy Park.  It is so nice to work out there, especially since I no longer work there.  :)  I would to stay in touch with my friends from there though.  They are good people doing a tough job for low wages.

5.  I want to go to Gettysburg Battlefield site this summer, for the 150 anniversary of the battle.  I would like to go with my brothers.  I don't have to go on the exact 150th date, but I think it would be good to visit there on the 150th anniversary and remember the men who died there so that the Union would be preserved.  And, despite our many problems, it is a country worth working for and committing to, as hundreds and thousands of folks in armed services do each day.

6.  I really want to learn to knit and crochet.  I finally found a place, Joanns, that actually has classes.  I learned to knit and crochet in high school home economics.  But, I need a refresher.  I want to make baby blankets.

7.  I want to visit my elderly aunts and uncles this year.  They were so important to me as a young child and I want to stay in touch with them.  So, I'm planning trips to Iowa, Detroit, Palm Desert, and Tullahoma this year.

8.  I have a whole list of ideas around books.  I am reading a biography of James Garfield and I have some others on Ford, Carter, and Nixon in my to be read stack.  And, I want to read some really good young adult literature.  I think that's the librarian in me...my secret career that got away.  And, I want to keep collecting children's books.  I don't have any little ones really to share them with, but maybe one day I will.  And, I want to read across the political spectrum, so I've ordered up a subscription to National Review, Time, the New Republic on my ipad.  I want to remember that I am a part of a larger world, so I want to learn more about the Middle East, Africa, and Asia.

9.  I want to be a better teacher.  I am trying to figure out how to better use the ipad and other technologies.

10.  And finally, I want to be more thankful, generous and kind.  I want to worry about those things that matter and let those things that don't slip away.

It's going to be a great year!

Thoughts about Teachers on the Monday after Sandy Hook

Today was like any other Monday...and it wasn't.  So many of my teacher friends were apprehensive, going back to school on this last Monday before the "winter holiday", given the tragic events that had unfolded in Connecticut on Friday.  As the details of the shooting that left 20 children and six teachers dead were revealed, I could not get the little faces (and the older ones) out of my head, or heart.  Our administrative team met early to talk about security at our school where until today the door has always been unlocked.  Our building's office is far from the front entrance, something that the architects of the 1960s never worried about I am sure; but, which today gave us and some of our parents pause.  Our security guard was posted near that front door.  Typically, he hangs out in a van, labeled "security" watching primarily our property, our student's cars which from time to time have been targets of vandalism by random passers through.  Today, he concentrated on the people, smiling as our kids entered the building, streaming in for this last half day before finals begin tomorrow.  I had wondered what I would say to my class and I worried that some of my students would be upset.  Like the other administrators, I stayed in the halls as time grew near for classes to begin, joining the students and teachers in the gym for our last Advent prayer.  And, what I reflected on, as I prayed, was how normal  everything was.  Our kids were dressed in goofy Christmas sweaters and campus ministry tee shirts, the seniors sporting big bows, the "couples" dressing as "packages" in honor of a "free day" that they had won as part of a class competition.  It bothered me for awhile that these kids were not more upset.  Where were the tears?  the worried faces?

But, as I reflected about my own worries, I relaxed a bit.  Our kids were not immune to the tragedy in Connecticut.  Their "business as usual" demeanor was due to the fact, I think, that they trusted the adults in their lives..us...their teachers, their principal, their assistant principals, their coaches, their parents...to take care of them.  They felt safe in our building, in our gathering in prayer, in the Lasallian family that is O'Hara.  I believe that they were not worried because somehow we have conveyed to them through our presence, our prayers, our tweets, our quiet conversations, that they are safe, that they are loved, that we will help those who need help, care for those who need carrying for.  And, so they packaged Christmas gifts for the needy of Catholic Charities and gathered in the gym to pray around the Advent wreath, even those who think the whole praying thing can be overdone sometimes....and they played games on their ipads when they should have been taking notes and they were blissfully, thankfully, normal.  And, I gave thanks for them as I grieved for those students around the country who didn't feel safe or protected or loved.  And, although my heart is heavy with the tragedy of the deaths in Connecticut, I am overwhelmed with the outpouring of love and concern that I have heard from friends and from strangers.  Good does conquer evil. And, although tragedy can strike anywhere at any time, it is good thing that my kids were normal today, even as their parents and teachers were quieter and more appreciative and more watchful.  That is how it should be.  Adults take care of children,as they did in Connecticut and as they do each day in every school in America.  Hug a teacher and give thanks for those who teach. 

Tragedy in Newtown, Connecticut

Like the president, and like all parents, everywhere, my heart is broken today by the news from Newtown, Connecticut.  I cannot wrap my mind around the tragedy, the horror.  Who would be so disturbed as to attack without warning a school, focusing on a classroom of kindergarten children?  I cannot understand how my God of peace and love can allow this to have happened?  And, I am reminded, as Father Martin, SJ, tweeted earlier, that God, too, had a child who died and I think perhaps that God is as appalled and as hurt as I am.  I believe He is there with those parents who wait...with those teachers who did the best they could to save as many as they could...with those children who somehow escaped the carnage but will forever have to live with the memory of what happened today.  God walks with us and He weeps with us.

The answers cannot be found in fear or hatred...in a retreat to homeschooling and the purchase of your own gun to keep your loved ones safe.  The answer lies in changing our society where violence is endemic, where it is okay to make fun of others, where it is acceptable to make excuses about behavior.  We have to hold each other accountable...to be kinder and gentler...we have to speak up for the voiceless, for the quiet kid in the back of the room, for the student who is bullied and for the bully.  We have to find ways to help families in trouble, to reach out to those who need resources....food, mental health care, friends.  We adults have to reach out to the kids that we know and even to those we don't know.  We have to be less absorbed in what we have and more absorbed in what we can give. 

We cannot change the world, all at once, in a big way, or at least most of us cannot.  We can, however, change our little piece of the world by giving more of our time and our money.  Smile.  Talk to someone who is lonely or afraid or lost.  Don't be afraid to ask, "how are you?" and mean it.  Buy fewer things at Apple and Target and give more to the Salvation Army and Catholic Charities.  Write your Congressman.  Volunteer. Be actively in the world so that when people see you, they see the face of God.  If each of us does what we can, when we can, we can bring about change.  We must be the change that we want to see in the world.  

And, if you know a teacher or a principal or a school nurse, hug them and pray for them.  My heart goes out to the teachers at Sandy Hook Elementary who shepherded their kids to safety as they could.  I cannot get out of my head the first grade teacher who hid her children in cabinets and told the gunman that they were in the gym.  That young, brave teacher, only 27, is my newest hero.  Each day teachers make a difference for good in the world.  Sometimes we, they, make mistakes, but mostly they do a difficult job for not enough pay.   Like policemen and social workers and nurses, teachers make a difference.  Encourage young people to teach, to take up the challenge of reaching kids who are troubled and afraid and lost and alone.  We can bemoan the world we live in or we can make an effort to change it for the better.  Let's do that.

I loved this article from Thomas Friedman who is likely to write more about the Middle East than the current election. I have always objected to the labels "pro life" and "pro choice". Who isn't PRO LIFE? And who isn't PRO CHOICE? These labels have been reduced to mean "pro abortion" and "anti abortion" but they are so much broader. Great article, Tom.

http://www.nytimes.com/2012/10/28/opinion/sunday/friedman-why-i-am-pro-life.html?ref=thomaslfriedman

Tuscumbia and the Dog

On Saturday, September 29,  we said goodbye to my dad in a simple ceremony at the church that he had always attended in his hometown of Tuscumbia, Missouri.  Dad was a deacon in the Tuscumbia Christian Church, affiliated with the Disciples of Christ denomination.  His mother was a member of the Presbyterian Church in town.  The girls, Betty and Barbara, attended church with her and Dad attended with his father, Homer Lee.  I even have a picture of Homer Lee at age 10 or so standing in front of the very church.  Dad was buried in the Hauenstein plot in the Tuscumbia Cemetery where countless of my relatives (and his) are buried.  He is with mom, resting there in his beloved Miller County.

Tuscumbia is a small town, located along the Osage River.  It has an "upper town" and a "Goose bottom" along the river.  Sadly, the best days of the town are in the past, at least in part but the people who live there are gracious, lovely, kind, warm-hearted people.  When Harry Truman spoke of "God's Country", I am sure he was speaking of Tuscumbia.  It is still the county seat and there's still a high school and elementary school there.  My dad had been president of the school board back in the day and chairman of the Annual Homecoming Picnic for many years.  He was proud of his community and the people who lived there.  He worried about the cemetery and even in his papers I found some figures that he had put together on the costs of mowing the cemetery grounds, $5000 annually, according to Dad, and the annual Memorial Day donation, $3,000.  The cemetery is a private entity.  Dad's records indicate the land was deeded by a Goodrich (of some family connection) as a cemetery.  One of my earliest memories is accompanying my grandmother to the cemetery with some 30 plus containers for "Decoration Day".

On Saturday, I drove to the funeral services by myself.  We had been asked to get to the church early.  I made a trip from Jefferson City that I had driven many times, most recently at Memorial Day.  I was struck by the beauty of the morning.  The first early hint of fall has arrived in Central Missouri and the trees were beginning to turn hues of yellow, orange, and red.  The sumac that grows along the road was already a fiery red.  In places the trees almost touch over Highway 17 and it was peaceful, lovely drive.  As I reached Tuscumbia, nestled by the river, I saw the sign, Population 218.  It hasn't changed much.  I think when I lived there it was 258.  People who have never lived in a small town have a hard time understanding why anyone would do so and further HOW anyone did so.  Even then, I was a bit annoyed by the fact that cell service is intermittent at best.

I learned that it was a tradition in Tuscumbia for mourners to walk to the cemetery from the church.  It's a short walk, perhaps a half mile, and many of the people at Dad's service walked through the school yard and around the corner to the cemetery.  There, they picked up a dog, or rather a dog picked them up.  He was healthy looking dog, but obviously a mutt of mixed parentage.  As the military honor guard fired the guns and blew Taps, the dog nosed among the mourners, rubbing up against my leg and those of my brothers and wandering among our friends.  I smiled and thought how my dad would have loved that dog being there among us.  It was almost as though dad was there, checking out who was attending the services, reassuring us that everything was okay.  My girls are convinced that Bamber sent the dog or perhaps was there with us through the dog.  Later, after the lovely luncheon provided by the church, as we stood in the street, ready to leave Tuscumbia, the dog reappeared.  Becca wanted to take him home but I am sure he belonged there in Tuscumbia.  At least that's what I choose to believe.  I left another piece of my heart there on Saturday.  I'm so glad Dad is there, among his family in the community that he lived in and loved for most of his 93 years.  Welcome back, Dad.