Open Your Big Eyes, Take in the Sunrise

When I was a little girl, maybe 6…7, we would have Sunday night dinner at my Gram’s house. We would drive home at the end of the night, 2/5 of the car asleep, and we would suddenly fall above something I used to call Fairyland. Not sure if my parents or I coined the term, but it was at the top of the hill, where all the lights of Almaden would shine, and it was Fairyland. It was my favorite thing. I was reminded of it when I landed at SFO last week: Magic.

You see, lately, I feel very small. Not like I’m minuscule, or powerless, but as I’m always reminded, I’m just a piece in the puzzle we call life–a contributor.

I had several ups and downs this summer, from moments of helplessness, to feelings of being on top of the world. And I’m so happy to have experienced them both, along with the nuances in between.

It makes me human.

I’ve been thinking a lot about being human lately. Feeling very small. Friends have had babies, friends have dealt with loss. I was on a boat in the Chicago River in July with my mom, looking up at the great American Skyscraper, and I felt tiny. I was pulled inside the circus tent I bought my 2 year-old Goddaughter last week, and once again felt like a child. This summer, I experienced water balloons with 5-year-olds, a car break-in, and weeping like a child at the news that one of my students was finally in remission. I felt very small.

But not in a bad way.

When I was 22, wet behind the ears, fresh from college, I set out one morning to Clement street, a few blocks from where I lived, following rumors that I would run into Robin Williams, a “neighbor”. I was selling books back to Green Apple, one of the finest independent bookstores, which have always been close to my heart.

A Candle to Carry Us

Tags

family, realizations, shooting stars, The Decemberists, transitions in life

There are certain things a person misses being away from home. The greyed chocolate lab walking with his sad owner. John, the corner store guy, asking me to marry him for the fortieth time. A new shop going in, and a favorite gone. The adage of there’s nothing like home always seems to ring true.

I’ve come home to wilted plants, copious stacks of mail, and things I realize I’ve neglected–my books, my writing, my curriculum. Friendships change, for better and for worse.

I’ve had a sick baby brother, and the opportunity to take care of his two kids, my nephews that I don’t ever get to spend enough time with.

I experienced the amazing opportunity called Squaw Valley Writer’s workshop and the realization that I need to dedicate much more time to my writing if I’m going to be serious about publishing this novel.

I’ve met at least five new people who could very well end up changing my life, monetarily, personally, and professionally.

I worked with kids who might not make it to high school.

I watched the joy of my nephew and niece seeing their first ball game, making many of my nephews, niece, goddaughter, and friends’ kids belly-laugh, and realize that life does (thanks, John Lennon) indeed happen when we make other plans.

I’ve seen my parents grow older and make new life changes, for the better.

And I realize after spending time with all of these people, learning all these lessons that I could never learn myself, I am humbled. But I still saw the stars over Tahoe and made wishes on a few that fell–one for me, and a few for those I love–and oddly, my life remains the same.

Thank God for that.

I start a new endeavor in the world of special ed tomorrow, and I realize that I will never know all the answers, nor do I want to. My life is what I have created, and it makes me happy–the joyous, the heartbreaking, and the humbling. And the simple watching of the stars.
——
All Around the World or the Myth of Fingerprints–Paul Simon
All Down the Line–The Rolling Stones
Clementine–The Decemberists
Dust Bowl Dance–Mumford and Sons
Get to Know You–Mayer Hawthorn
Thick and Thin–The Black Crowes
I Feel Better–Gotye

It’s nothing that I haven’t seen before But it still kills me like it did before

Tags

christmas, Connecticut, fear, guns, love, students, teaching

It’s been such a busy week–of healing and grading and socializing and baking and shopping…and I’m exhausted.

I’m using the app on my phone to write this again–which is a little tedious. BUT the songs on my phone are a smaller, more select group that I adore, and tonight’s list is apropos.

I’m packed and ready for vacation for two weeks. I made 15 dozen ginger cookies for my students on Sunday afternoon as a “because”, but it’s because they are wonderful, goofy, pain-in-the-neck kids. So much so, that after we made snowflakes on Monday when all work was done (11th year doing this), I discovered that the Connecticut PTA has requested snowflakes to decorate the temporary home of the Sandy Hook kids.

You’re looking at roughly 450 my students and some of their friends made, and I can barely keep it together when more and more pour in. There’s no quota or goal, but I told them that I started teaching when I lived in Connecticut and that I have a special place in my heart for this project personally. And the snowflakes flurried in.

I know like everyone, I will get through this. Last week after my post, my nephew L and niece H came for a quick visit, and I couldn’t stop hugging and kissing them and telling them how much I love them.

But right now I struggle to see how two

You’re In Need of Something You Can’t Find

Tags

charm bracelet, dreams, gift, Gram, Lenny Kravitz, lost things, mom, postaday, San Francisco Giants, searching, start again, World Series

I seem to have lost my sense of time in the past few weeks. I don’t know where it has gone. It’s kind of like I am in a hamster wheel. Perhaps it’s not the worst place to be, but this annoys me. To my credit, this fall has been intense. For starters, once again, the San Francisco Giants, the baseball team I grew up with, moves on to the World Series tomorrow night. I have been watching a lot of baseball, which is usually the case in the post-season, regardless of who’s still in. Well, with the exception of the Dodgers and the Yankees.

Since I was a teenager, I have had a reoccurring dream where I am searching everywhere for something I have lost. Sometimes it happens when I really have misplaced something I care about, other times when I am overly tired. I tend to lose everyday things for a few hours–a day or two tops–but for the most part, I am able to have reconnaissance missions to locate them. Except twice.

In high school, I lost a gold and sapphire birthstone ring I received in 3rd grade. It was for my birthday, and I had scoured the Best Catalogue over and over. With enough nagging and proving to my mom that I wouldn’t ever lose it, there it was on the fireplace hearth, ready for me to open after dinner and cake. I bent the hell out of the ring over the years, and had it straightened with my dad’s pliers, broke the shank in half, and even had to have it resized. This ring survived endless abuse, but it was loved. Until I lost it, and then it was adored and revered.

I was in high school, maybe college, and the ring went missing at some point. I didn’t wear it daily; it had a permanent resting place in my jewelry box. But then it didn’t. I stewed, and searched, and got teary. I mentioned it to my mom, who was as baffled as I was. It came up in conversation that Sunday when my Gram came to dinner. The next day, she called our house and asked to talk to me. She told me that she had a dream the night before about my ring, and I should check behind my nightstand, under my bed, anywhere near where I could have taken it off in my sleep. Low and behold, I found it underneath my nightstand. It was the last piece of jewelry I lost. Until 2007.

When I graduated from 8th grade, I received a 14 karat gold charm bracelet from my Gram, with a charm on it. It was a gold filigree cross. That same day, I received a shamrock from my parents, a “13” from the family I babysat, and I was slowly on my

The Future No One Can See so Step Aside and Let it Be

Tags

childhood, first day of school, George Michael, Music, New Wave, Olympic ceremonies, past and present, Technology, the future

I’m worried I am a little rusty. Let’s face it, I took a month vacation whether I intended to or not. I meant to take a month vacation from life, but not the blog. Apparently they go hand in hand. My sincerest of apologies.

In a nutshell, I had the best summer in years–old friends, new friends, teaching 10 year-olds proper reading skills, the anticipation of new babies about to be born, hiking, running, walking, swimming in Lake Tahoe, sailing, playing with new puppies, playing with old puppies, quality time with my parents, more jokes with the kiddos, and good, good cooking. It was a glorious month in Tahoe. I have never had the chance to enjoy it, but let’s just say I don’t look Irish anymore. I just look like a sallow Mediterranean.

Let’s chat for a minute about the music I have listened to. Concerts? Nope. New albums? Nope. Discovered any new bands? Nope. I lived on New Wave radio on XM. Since the late 80s I have been an Erasure, The Smiths, The Pretenders, REM, Depeche Mode, and INXS fan. But this New Wave channel opens Pandora’s Box. I can’t get enough.

Ironically, neither could London and the Closing Ceremonies. We had an explosion of anyone still alive and British. Right? I have to say, my heart rate rose when George Michael played “Freedom”. I still remember the MTV video with all the Supermodels. I watched that butt in very tight Levi’s sway back and forth in the “Faith” video easily 426 times the summer I was 10. Wowza. Watching him Sunday night made me feel like a giddy schoolgirl again.

I witnessed something fascinating at Target yesterday buying a basketful of school supplies, since tomorrow is my first day of school with my new 8th graders. (Let’s just take a moment–they were born in 1999-2000. That’s the year I graduated from college). While I was trying to find a pair of noise silencing headphones to avoid les chansons Français during my prep from the French teacher I share my room with, I witnessed two kids, a brother and sister, 15 and 12 (give or take) gravitate toward the svelte Dr. Dre Beats platform. Does this sound like gibberish to you? Me too. Well, I passed these Beats headphones because they were in the $225-$300 range. Yes, for headphones. Anyway, both kids claimed that they’d “die for these things, Mom!” Poor woman. They forced her to listen. As her son explained the isolated bass, she cried, “It’s so so loud!”.

I try and think about what my world would be like as my ten-year-old self in 2012. Now, I would have a cell phone. I had to wait until I was 13 for my own telephone. A land line. I was allowed to use it ONLY between the hours of 3:30 and 9. I assume that today I would at least have the most basic of iPods. Before my cool canary yellow Sport Walkman, I had just a radio version, with bright orange foamed earphones. Sadly, I really didn’t stand out–most of us had these.

I most likely would have a Facebook account, perhaps hidden from my parents. I’d probably post dorky pictures of me and my friends in cheesy poses because that suits my geek personality during that age. Photography would be the same since it’s been a passion for so many years. Sometimes though I do miss the smell of film when opening the black canister. I guess $60 Guess Jeans with zippers on the ankles are the equivalent of Joe’s at $145 that some of my richer girls wear. But to be fair, I had to earn big items like those.

I was a pretty privileged kid in my childhood, the more I think about it. So why does it irk me so much that kids today have everything and more? Or is it that they have too much and nothing more? That they miss the joy in the purer form, the 1980 and 1990 form, of what they have? The excitement in not knowing what images would emerge from the PhotoMat, instead of mulligan after mulligan on today’s digital cameras. MTV and it’s one change of course–Headbanger’s Ball. Not Real World Barbados (I mean, let’s face it–Barbados is not the real world).

I could keep going. I think it’s the anticipation of 130 new 8th graders tomorrow and wishing–for their sake–that they didn’t have so much information right at their fingertips. What’s the adage? Give someone too much rope and they’ll hang themselves? We’re hitting a slippery slope. As careful and slow and British as the opening and closing games were this past Olympics, they were filled with nods to the past. Beijing was a different story. Everything was modern and shiny and fast and programmed. London’s ceremonies were the childhood I grew up with–you had to piece it all together to understand, even think about it a little. Beijing hit the viewer so fast with everything possible, you had to realize quickly that it was the “Future”.

Thank you but I will keep my George Michael and my Eric Idle with “Always Look on the Bright Side of Life” and The Who, who are going deaf, and Annie Lenox who still looks exactly like she did in the Eurythmics of the 80s and 90s. I don’t want to be forced into “enjoying” something new, unfamiliar, cold.

So I haven’t discussed teaching, or returning to work, or books at all. Instead, I am looking at the new and the old, old an new. The picture on today’s post is one I took today with my iPhone in my classroom, aimed at my Smart Board, showing my website. What you can’t see are the 8 bookshelves filled with novels from every genre and time period. Or my shelf filled with dictionaries and thesauri. Or regular, wide-ruled paper.

All 6 songs deal with rejection and not holding up to the test of time–being passed on by once-loves. Old and new, new and old. Well guess what? These artists, these songs survived. My XM radio and I with the New Wave channel prove this point. Will OneDirection and the Spice Girls? Well, let’s step aside and find out.

I’m Still Standing–Elton John

Somebody to Love–George Michael

Sonja–Lyle Lovett

Atlantic City–Bruce Springsteen

This Moment is All There Is–Lenny Kravitz

Don’t you Want Me–Human League