In Praise of Technology

I recently spent a month in Todos Santos, Baja Sur. In exchange for house/pet sitting, I got four weeks of solitude in a casita, during which I was able to work on a book project about Dr. Warren Borgquist. The prospect of leaving California for an extended time to write was exciting, but I also hated the thought of missing out on the active lives of my family, all of whom live nearby. Close proximity to my fifteen grandkids is a blessing I’m grateful for everyday, especially when I talk with friends whose families are scattered all over the world.

I had no idea the degree to which I’d be singing the praises of technology while on this trip, but I found that there were a gazillion ways to stay in touch while also working faithfully on my project.

I tutored and responded to the essays of two grandsons and two granddaughters, via Facetime and Google Docs. I watched videos of two granddaughters in their dance classes and viewed pictures of my swiftly growing 15-month old grandson. Toward the end of the trip, two videos arrived in iMessage of him learning to stand and then learning to walk while pushing a rolling toy. I watched my brother walk the Camino de Santiago compliments of a photo album on iCloud. I texted and emailed with family and friends, staying abreast of their exciting lives. I chatted on Facetime with Cindy several times a week and we texted one another all day long. I also consulted with my daughter-in-law via Facetime to get clarification on a medical procedure about which I was writing. And I remotely promoted a Writers Workshop that was scheduled to take place several days after I returned home.

At the same time I was writing my third book in Baja, the Kindle version of my first book, BetweenTwo Women, was published on Amazon. And of course, the work I was doing on the book could not have been accomplished without a computer and word processing while listening to MP3 files of some of the interviews I've conducted.

Though I’m a happy and relatively competent user of technology, this experience of maintaining wholesome communication with my loved ones while far away was new to me. I feel gratified to be a writer working in the 21 Century—one who can have her solitude and community too.

Rim Fire Days

There was a puff of smoke in the sky to the south, clearly a fire, something our eyes are alert to in the foothills all summer. We watched a pyrocumulus cloud form on the horizon--beautiful but not benign. The cloud flattened and roiled. Helicopters, air tankers, and fire engines roared into the county. Thus commenced the Rim Fire Days.

At Masters swim practice, I peeked under my arm as I swam watching the helicopters and then a DC-10 flying low. It felt as if the helicopter was going to dip its bucket into Lane 5 for water to douse the fire.

My son texted at 10pm Wednesday saying a fire fighter friend warned they would soon be on advisory evacuation. He wanted to bring his family to my house. "Come on down!" I texted back.  It would be a day and half before his wife called and said, "We are packing up and heading to your place." I'd just spent a sweet hour in an interview with Marjorie and Karma Borgquist talking about family. As I drove away, Phillip Phillips came on the car radio singing "Just know your not alone/I'm gonna make this place your home." I drove quickly to make space for a family of six and their pets.

We moved the Harrelson family in, parked their bikes on the patio and Humphrey, the guinea pig, on the washing machine and made plans for dinner. Cindy and Taylor went shopping, and Cody and Kyle went for a ride on nearby dirt roads in the Samurai. After a dinner, everyone took to screens-- iPads, smart phones, and computers-- to see what was happening. We were consumed with watching the fire via the Internet--mostly Facebook and My Mother Lode, but also InciWeb and a few other sites. The Groveland Facebook page became our favorite site. We called out different reports and showed each other incredible images. Our wifi got so overloaded that the Internet on my computer stalled.

The next morning when I took my tea to the patio, the smoke was as thick as a January fog. I soon headed inside where breathing was easier. The next few days were a whirl of games, guitar music, fire monitoring, food prep, and watching our animals make friends with the Harrelson animals. The days were hot and smokey and filled with family fun. When they decided to head home Sunday afternoon, the quiet in our house was enormous. We missed them.

The next day, the earache I'd been nursing all weekend flared; I tried to catch up on freelance work but kept getting drawn back to fire monitoring on Facebook. Then I got an email from my sister Ginger reporting an offer had been made on the San Francisco house where we grew up.  The world smelled like smoke; the sky turned an eerie crimson and gold at sunset. I was unsettled!

Cindy made cookies, and we took them to an elementary school where firemen were bivouacked. We walked out Plainview Road to the point and watched smoke curling in big plumes from Paper Cabin Ridge. Behind us, the sun was a giant orange globe.

For a seven days, the fire was all we could think about. It wasn't over, but there was a sense that things were pointed in the right direction, that we could resume whatever it was that had stopped or slowed or slipped.  Tomorrow would be different. But first we stood still on that hill until the sky was dark and all we could see was a deep red glow in the distance.

6423-25 Legacy

When I was six years old, my family moved into a flat on California Street in San Francisco in a building that my dad and his brother had renovated.  We lived upstairs in the 3 bedroom flat with a big back porch and a great yard that had one tree with a tree house. In time, my dad built gates into the 3 neighboring backyards where our friends lived and our playing space expanded exponentially.

Downstairs from the flat at street level was my dad's upholstery shop. Behind the shop and up a short flight of stairs was a small apartment where my uncle lived for a time. After that it was a space for visiting relatives or temporary housing for my dad's workers. Also behind the shop and below the apartment was a basement.

When my parents divorced, my dad moved into the apartment, and he rented the flat to a woman who had one daughter. During the last year of my dad's life, my uncle moved into the shop creating a little living space at the back near the apartment. He piled as much of his belongings as he could on top of my father's already abundant collection at the front of the shop, all around the living space he had shaped, and in the basement. He took care of my dad during his last months, and once he had sufficiently grieved my dad's passing, he moved into the apartment where he lived 18 more years until his death this past January. He didn't remove any of my dad's things but settled his life on top of that of my father's. The upstairs tenant remained in the flat for 42 years.

Now my siblings and I are diving into the legacy in the building at 6423-25 California Street. The layers are deep and pitted with emotion. Last weekend, Cindy and I met my sister Ginger, my son Raleigh, his wife Jenny, and their son Kyle for our second dive into the bowels of the shop and apartment. Well actually, it is the 3rd dive as the fire marshall demanded some cleanup a year ago, and a family contingent spent two days sorting and hauling away much of the flammable material. But there are still mountains of stuff left.

Here's what I want to say: While this could be viewed as a terrible mess left for the heirs to deal with (it is), it is also an opportunity for an endearing thread of connection between the generations. Candice acquires some of her Great Uncle Buddy's record albums and Haydon gets some of his model airplanes. Jenny gets one of Grandpa Stasiu's whale knick-knacks and a photo of Kyle with a 20-year-old jar of Grandpa's kombucha brew; Culley takes the copper triangle that hung over his grandpa's head for years and Raleigh has a tool heyday. Cindy makes a pile of scrap metal for her folks while Ginger and I zero in on memorabilia like a black metal tin with pink flamingos filled with silver coins and a glass box both of which belonged to our father.

We have a couple more trips planned into this crazy haven of history and accumulation. Each time, relatives of the family who first moved into 6423-25 will dive in to see what they can find. Not only is it an hilarious experience of "one person's junk is another person's treasure," these visits are a catch-all for satisfying memories.

Family Daze

Last Sunday, Clare and I went to Mass at St. Josephs in Mariposa. During the homily, the priest talked about Blue Monday, a late January phenomena of depression related to the middle of winter, cold, dark days, lots of sickness, and the distance from both Christmas and Easter with their sacred energy. He went on to offer three practical ways to manage the challenges this time of year brings: gratitude, an affirming attitude, and kindness.

The last week of January 2013 was full of such blueness in our family. The flu hit Cindy's parents and Jennie Lou and Clare. My son's father-in-law was extremely ill and ended up in the hospital as did Cindy's dad. Michael and Raleigh were out of town which left their wives limping along without their main support, and to make matters worse the elder sons, who pitch in with driving and child care, were also away. My daughter-in-law leaped to help her dad, and many friends and I stepped forward to help manage the children--including providing transportation to school, work, and sports--and overnight supervision. Jennie Lou's car broke down, leaving her not only sick but basically stranded. So I did some driving to get those kids to and from school and other events. Over in Mariposa, where Cindy was helping her folks, the pump to the well went out leaving them without water after dark on Friday night. It was dizzying week that could have dropped us to our knees or at least into sick beds but it didn't.

Without actually thinking about, we were doing what the priest recommended. We were grateful to be healthy and have the strength needed to help. We were willing, which was definitely an affirming attitude. And I'm pretty sure we were kind in everything we did.

We love our HUGE family even when dazed with blue moments--for we see the tenderness there and know the blessing.

Uncle Buddy

Uncle Buddy was nothing like my dad, his brother. He was bald, smoked a pipe, and listened to classical music. For a good part of my childhood, he lived in an apartment behind my dad's shop. We lived in the flat upstairs--we being my mom and dad and four siblings. I was the eldest, and I always felt like I was Uncle Buddy's favorite.

That may or may not have been so, but what I do know is that I loved going down to his apartment to pet Uncle Buddy's Siamese cat, Spookie, until my eyes reddened and tears spilled from allergies. We had a dog upstairs, but I liked cats despite being allergic to them. Mostly, however, I enjoyed sitting in the sunny peaceful apartment in a pall of pipe smoke and drifting cat hair, listening to a Tchaikovsky piano concerto and mesmerized by the spinning turntable of my uncle's record player. It was a quiet interlude from the busy household upstairs.

When my best friend, moved from San Francisco to San Bruno when I was 7, it was Uncle Buddy who took me to see her on Saturday afternoons. It seemed like I had to beg him to take me. "Please, Uncle Buddy, can you take me to see Nancy?" And it seemed like he always did. I can't imagine what he did while I played with my friend for several hours. All I remember is the foggy drive back to the city on Skyline Boulevard.

When our family dog was hit by car, I was devastated. A few months later, Uncle Buddy took me to pick out a puppy to replace her. It was Uncle Buddy who taught me how to potty train the puppy and teach it to walk on a lead. I know I eventually tired of this responsibility and my mom took over Lucky's care, but I think I learned a lot because Uncle Buddy believed I could do it.  He also showed me how to feed the wounded pigeons I brought home and he brought the beautiful green parrot that lived in a cage in our dining room for many years. I know my love and appreciation of animals was stirred by this man.

Uncle Buddy taught me how to drive in his 1956 Jaguar--a stick shift. He had me practice in the quiet streets in the Sea Cliff district until I mastered the clutch. And then he took me on busier streets and taught me how to stop and go on the hills of San Francisco and how to parallel park on Clement Street. I passed my driver's test on my 16th birthday on the very first try. The following summer, he let me have the Jaguar for the month of August in Twain Harte where we had a summer cabin. But first he made sure I knew how to check the oil, fill it with gas, and change a flat tire.

My adult relationship with Uncle Buddy was distant and somewhat strained. I don't think he wanted me to grow up. But a few weeks ago, I visited him at the VA hospital. He was 90 years old, blind, hard of hearing, and frequently delirious, but in a moment of lucidity he said, "Ah, Patsy. Your hair is grey now. I saw a picture of you in your boat. Beautiful! You will live a long time." He was remembering a card I'd sent him 9 years earlier when he could still see a little. I held his big hand and let the tears drop on the bedsheets.

The blessings of elders are special. Uncle Buddy blessed me with loving attention as a child, but this blessing a few days before his death on January 6, 2013 was a treasure.

Technology: The Savior--Sort Of

The Dixon family was terribly disappointed to learn that neither Kenny nor Rex would make it home for Christmas this year. Kenny is a student at Columbia University who couldn't afford the plane fare and Rex was scheduled to work with his Staten Island Coast Guard crew. Christmas would not be the same without these guys.

But wait! With Facetime we could bring them home--sort of!

Sandie set up computers on the dining room table and dialed the boys. VIOLA! There they were. We opened gifts, laughed and cried with them. And not just once but twice: first, on Christmas Eve when they opened their Christmas jammies AND again on Christmas morning when everyone was opening gifts. We laughed when Rex explained that he had locked himself in a room at the station so his buddies couldn't tease him about his gifts "from Santa." And we teared up when Kenny broke down about missing Christmas and his dog Summer licked his tears away. It wasn't flesh and blood, but it was close. The spaces they usually occupied on the couch next to their sister Sabrina opening gifts were not empty.

Later in the morning, nephew Perry called on Facetime from Virginia, and the whole extended family got to visit with Perry, his wife Erin, and their four kids. The wonders of technology brought them across the country to the big family celebration.

Meanwhile, I was communicating via email with my siblings about our Uncle Buddy who at 90 is approaching the end of his life and needing our attention. Because of email, we are able to all be part of one conversation about his care even though we are miles apart in Florida, Northern California--Fremont, Fort Bragg, Jamestown-- and in Todos Santos, Mexico.

Holiday celebrations put the focus on family, and this year, the wonders of technology enhanced that focus--pixelating and dispatching sights, sounds, and news. And to prove my point, as I was writing this blog post, I got an email from my Aunt Jean in Yuma AZ to which she attached a scanned photo of me, my brother, and my maternal grandparents taken in 1951.

I'm thankful for the technology that saves spaces, faces, and memories.

Abundant Heart

My heart filled again and again in the week before Christmas, this year. It all began with Occupy Christmas. For a time, I didn't think it was going to be possible to pull off our annual Christmas party, but with the creative thinking of four people, the event was more than I hoped for. My heart was so full with the sound of family after the party that I had trouble going to sleep. What I didn't know was how much that party set the stage for the rest of the week as each day found me doing and experiencing things I never thought possible.

On Monday, Clare and Mary Autumn spent the afternoon with us. Four-year-old Clare is a delightful chatterbox, but my heart melted in conversation with Mary Autumn. As Clare hung out chatting with Cindy, Mary Autumn and I colored and talked-- truly talked. Eight-year-olds aren't usually interested in how their grandmothers spend their days, but Mary Autumn's curiosity was deeply sincere when she said, "What did you do before we came over today?" Her mature inquiry was matched with careful listening and questions about my broken car which I'd taken for repairs and the chores I'd performed. What a joy to find a sympathetic ear in this young granddaughter.

On Tuesday evening, I joined a powerful clan of women for dinner. Each woman had served as Faculty Senate President at the local college, and the group meets three times a year to discuss the challenges of leadership and celebrate successes. After retiring from the college, I stopped attending these gatherings, but one of the gals reminded me that I am always welcome and encouraged me to join the party this year. A surge of energy pulsed in my heart in the presence of all this glowing feminine power. Wit, intelligence, and camaraderie were abundant at the table. I'd misplaced this measure of commanding influence and was thrilled to partake again.

On Wednesday, I enjoyed two heart boosters. At Masters swim practice, I didn't think it was possible to swim six 100s faster than my base time, but nestled in the middle of four lane mates, I gave the task my all and surprised myself with the speed I needed. Later I met with Write-on Women, my writers group. Despite icy roads and December demands, eight creative women made this meeting a priority. Being in the company of others--be it writers or swimmers-- injects my heart with a can-do spirit when most of me is screaming "I don't want to!."

Thursday was a heart melting day all day. My 35 year-old son Raleigh volunteered to accompany me on the three hour drive to San Francisco to see my 90-year-old Uncle Buddy who is in the hospital with delirium and severe back pain. Raleigh infused the trip with his philosophy of love. The city of my birth was beautiful beyond belief from the first clear sighting on the 580 to unsurpassable views from the Chapel in the VA Hospital. Uncle Buddy was sweetly demented in his brown beanie addressing me as the 12 year old he once knew. I held his hand-- deeply veined and pearly translucent-- while Raleigh prayed until Uncle Buddy sank back into his chair and slept. So dear is the arc of life.

Friday night, my dharma buddies had an end-of-the-world-party. The instructions were to wear something we never get to wear and bring a gift to recycle. We also each brought specialty foods for an elegant potluck dinner served on china with crystal glasses and silver flatware. Twelve gorgeous women dressed to the hilt, enjoyed a stellar meal from an amazing table and engaged in several hours of noble conversation. We were prepared to go out on a superior moment! My heart was buoyant with promise and no need to know what would come next.

Saturday was a heart-opening yoga workshop, in which the instructor Rocky Heron had no doubt that students could do things they previously did not think possible. And so with his help, I did my first handstand at age 64. I was overwhelmed, grinning and crying at the same time. My heart was wide open as I headed home to find dear Cindy sweetening the house with her presence, her love of the holidays, and her boundless energy on behalf of our family. Hers is a love that always lifts me higher!

It's risky to step out in the world with my heart wide open, but this week, open-heartedness allowed all manner of joy and love to flow in.

Occupy Christmas

Reinventing family traditions after a divorce can be a real challenge, so I'm delighted to be in the 5th year of an annual Christmas Party thrown by my kids' father, his new wife, Bonnie, and me and my partner, Cindy. Splitting the costs and labor, the four of us start prepping for the party in September. Then each year, despite incredibly busy lives, our 3 children and their families--14 grandkids in all-- come together on a Sunday afternoon in December to make merry. A trimmed tree, lights and streamers, food, gifts and stockings are part of the mix, but also lots of catching up for both kids and adults. Though we all live in the same county, we lead full, rich lives, so connections are haphazard and intermittent and rarely involve the whole crowd. Speaking for myself, the best part of this party is the chance to make memorable connections with cousins, in-laws, uncles and aunts. Of course, the kids are pretty interested in the gifts and stockings too.

This year we ran into some hurdles. Our finances got murky, and Cindy and I weren't able to squirrel away a regular monthly deposit to our Christmas fund. Raymond was scheduled for knee replacement surgery three weeks before the party, and we knew he would not be doing much elfing. Plus, he was very entrenched in the local "Occupy" movement, and he wanted to Occupy Christmas. For a brief moment, we considered canceling the party this year, but that idea went up in a poof of smoke. Instead, we put on our thinking caps and started modifying our usual modus operandi, especially when it came to gifts.

We began with the Occupy Christmas motif and grabbed the idea to choose gifts that were made in the USA. Then we decided we wanted to involve local merchants or businesses somehow. The year before, I had come up with the idea of including one personal treasure that belonged to one of us in each stocking. We decided to include those treasures in the main gift and ask the grandkids to each contribute 3 small treasures of their own as stocking stuffers. We gave them stickers, asked them to attach their names to the items, and we collected them the Sunday before Thanksgiving. The kids complied with a delightful array of things from compasses to toy cars to nail polish.

On the Sunday after Thanksgiving, the day before Raymond's surgery, we met to decide which kids would get which treasures in their gifts and stockings. This was a super fun chore. When one of us suggested a certain treasure for one of the children, we went with it, totally trusting our very first instincts. I named Huck recipient of my magnetic poetry. Cindy thought Leon should have Nell's dream oil. Bonnie thought Anna Mae would like her sleep mask. Raymond dropped the hacky-sacks into Aliou's pile.  For the main gift, we had ordered American made bath sheets for each child and hired a local seamstress to appliqué each child's name on his or her towel.

I admit to a bit of trepidation the morning of the party. Would the kids be disappointed with this variant on previous parties?  Definitely not!  The smiles, laughter and shouts rang with full-fledged Christmas wonder. Huck wore his towel like a toga for an hour after opening it. Mary Autumn and Nell lined their gifts on the floor beside the tree to admire. Leon pumped dream oil on anyone who approached him, and the four who got our headlamps ran out in the dark to play.

Granddaddy had to leave early as this was the most activity his bionic knee had seen in weeks, but everyone else stayed late-- occupying Christmas.

Graduation Advice

Two grandsons and a niece graduate from high school this week. All week, I've been trying to come up with some kind of wisdom to posit with these young people. Graduating high school is really a big thing, but the truth is that from my vantage point at 64, all I can see is that they are babes with only vague ideas about what they want to do next.

And I don't think it should be otherwise. I don't see how a young person of 17 or 18 can possible know what he or she wants to do with the rest of life. It seems crazy to me to ask a kid to not only keep going to school—i.e. college-- but also to choose a major which will lead to life work. So the fact that these kids have only loosely defined plans for the next year or so doesn't bother me.

I do think they need to go somewhere and do something. I just don't think school is necessarily that thing. A summer of work and some good times with friends is a great next step after high school. Then it depends on the kid what will come after that.

These three don't have a great deal in common except for the fact that each of them has been super engaged in sports during high school. As I was making their graduation cards, I realized that I was tapping into this sporting interest for images for the cards. Then early this morning when I was cutting, arranging, and pasting pictures of bicycles and skiing onto the cards, I had a flash that the athletic learning that took place during my teen years has been the most enduring skill set in my life.

I certainly learned concepts in Geometry and facts in Government and read classics in English class while in high school, but it was the skill set that I developed as a competitive swimmer that has been with me every step of the way into adulthood, middle age, and on into my twilight years.

I learned to roll out of bed and get to work early, even when my body was screaming for sleep. I learned to push through fatigue, exertion, breathlessness, disappointment, and pain for greater gain. I learned to cooperate, respect authority, and recognize my self-worth. I learned to win and lose. I learned to laugh, congratulate, and lean into hard work. I learned how it feels to come in last and to be first, second, or tenth. I learned how to be coached and how to mentor. And most of all I learned how to celebrate!

So graduates—August, Cody, and Sabrina—remember what you learned on the ski slope, the soccer field, the bike trail, the softball diamond, the yoga mat! Those were the lessons that are full of life! And celebrate this landmark accomplishment.

Memory Month

I do believe that the month of May 2011 will go down in history as one of the busiest and most memorable. It was cram-packed with special events and family connections:

May 2- After 11 days of caring for her mom, Cindy came home, worried still but hopeful that her mom was returning to her strong, durable self.
May 3- I worked with Candice & Kyle on their end of the year writing samples and then had a pre-birthday visit with my dear friend, Trish.
May 5- Childcare at the Tippetts while JL went to a training for IEW--one of my longest days ever caring for her brood.
May 6- Grandparents day at Mother Lode Christian School where Taylor and classmates served brunch and I got to see her classroom and meet her teacher, Mrs. Briniger.
May 7- Fundraising pancake breakfast at Applebees for Cody's soccer team. Phone call to Nell to sing the Hooray Birthday song, followed by a trip to Mariposa where we planted veggies for Cindy's mom for Mother's Day.
May 8- Dixon family birthday, celebrating with Sabrina and Sandie, plus Mother's Day calls from my kids.
May 9- August did major yardwork at my place. Fred & Bonnie arrived to spend the night after a doctor visit in Sacramento where Bonnie got an excellent report. Started Masters Swim 101.
May 10- Birthday party at Culley's for me, Nell and John. Pizza party with the whole family!!!!
May 11- Huck's play with grade 1 students at Waldorf.
May 12- The gear shift on Cindy's truck broke and Raleigh was on the scene immediately to make repairs in under 10 minutes.
May 13- Huck's play again, this time with Cindy. Shopping trip to Modesto with Anna Mae (also paid of tax debt!!!)
May 14- Outing with Nell, Mary Autumn, Gianna, and Candice to Columbia (see previous post).
May 15- Buddhist workshop with Nancy Spence.
May 17- Anna Mae's graduation from 8th grade.
May 18- Dokasan with Nancy.
May 19- Open house at the Country School for Athan, Aliou, Leon & Mary Autumn.
May 20- Belated birthday dinner with Becky at Applebees
May 21- Kate Reid concert in Pioneer; fast drive back to Tuolumne County to see the last 20 minutes of Roller Derby. We missed Madam Ovary's 35 point jam :(
May 22- Lunch with Cindy's cousin Bobby and his wife at Diamondback. Anna Mae's confirmation at All Saints.
May 23- August does yardwork at my house.
May 24- Cody helps me spread bark at Culley's.
May 25- Mary Autumn's graduation from kindergarten. Writing group meeting in the evening.
May 26-30 Four day weekend--planting plants, painting door, setting up swamp cooler, watching movies & TV-- basically fun stuff at home :)

Oh, and I can proudly say that I went to Masters Swim 101 faithfully throughout the month and have almost mastered the butterfly stroke. And to top it off, I was selected as the winner of the free coffee at Day-O this morning.

June . . . here I come . . .

All in a Saturday

Can I just say that the following chain of events appeals to my sense of family-centeredness:

At 8am on Saturday morning, Uncle Raleigh met Uncle Michael in Twain Harte so that Cody, Kyle, and Candice could be transported to the Tippetts. Cody was going to work with Uncle Michael while Kyle hung out with Athan, Leon, and Aliou overseen by Aunt Jennie Lou and Clare. Dearma was going to pick up Candice later in the morning for a girl cousin outing.

On the way to Belleview Road, Aunt Andrea called Uncle Michael to say she wanted to go to to the Farmer's Market with Huck and wondered if he could pick up Nell on his way home for a visit at the Tippetts until Dearma arrived to collect the girls for the outing.

At 10:45, Dearma arrived at the Tippetts to get Nell, Mary Autumn, and Candice. She still needed to get Gianna at Little Red School house where she and Anna Mae were painting sets for the school play. Aunt Jennie Lou asked if Dearma could deliver Anna Mae's lunch which she had forgotten to take when she left earlier in the morning.

At 3 o'clock, while the girl cousins were eating ice cream after a picnic, stage ride, panning for gold, and rock climbing (see Facebook photos), Candice mentioned that she had overheard Uncle Raleigh tell Uncle Michael that he would pick her up at the Tippetts, so Dearma texted Aunt Jenny to confirm. After a few text messages and a phone call, Dearma agreed to take Candice to the Tippetts where she would get Kyle and Cody and meet Uncle Raleigh and Aunt Jenny somewhere between Sonora and Jamestown to deliver the children.

As Dearma and the girl cousins drove over Big Hill, a text came in from Aunt Andrea saying Huck had petered out on a bike ride and was laying in the grass at the bottom of Belleview Road. Could we pick up him and his bike?

After stopping for Huck, Dearma dropped off Huck and Nell and then took Mary Autumn and Gianna home where she picked up Kyle and Cody and left to meet Uncle Raleigh, Aunt Jenny, and Taylor at Willow Springs Market.

In my book, this is the gift of family all in a Saturday! (in keeping with Ann Voskamp's notion of 1000 Gifts.

Grandparents Day at Waldorf

I can't remember if they had Grandparents Day when I was in school. Maybe there was such a day, but it meant little to me since my grandparents lived many states away, so I rarely saw them. But it means a lot to me now that I'm a grandparent who truly enjoys visiting my grand kids schools to see what they are doing, especially on a day designated for the elders in their life.

Uncle John, Cindy and I attended Grandparent's Day at the Sierra Waldorf School. Now that Huck is in Grade One, his class was part of the assembly. They kicked off the program by reciting a wonderful poem about a beetle and then did the entire poem again silently using hand gestures. Grade One was followed by the other grades in ascending order, which gave those of us in the audience a taste of the future. It was like watching children grow right before your eyes.

After the program, Grade Eight students escorted us to the classrooms of the children we were visiting. We went to Huck's class where he displayed two beautiful portfolios, one for math concepts and one for reading concepts. His art work was colorful and imaginative, and he took pleasure in sharing each page with us. We didn't think Huck had spotted us in the audience during the assembly, but we were wrong. He had been looking out for us just as we were looking for him.

Then we went to preschool where we sat behind Nell as the class said a blessing for the soup and bread they were about to serve. Miss Beth directed Nell to distribute napkins to guests and her friend Richard to pass out spoons. Then each child served their special guests. Can I just say that watching 4 and 5 year olds carry bowls of hot soup took my breath away. Fear and admiration were the compelling emotions. Every bowl was delivered without a drop spilled. After lunch, the children sang the good-bye song they sing each day as they take leave of their friends and teacher. Finally the children collected our dishes and headed out to the porch to wash and dry them.

Nell gave us big scrumptious hugs good-bye before leaving with Uncle John to collect Huck and go home. I am so glad I live down the road from the Sierra Waldorf School rather than states away.

Gifts
#19 two grand kids attending a school I would love to have sent my kids to;
#20 Miss Beth's tender attention to those 2 children these past 3 years;
#21 The marvelously serene and talented teacher Waldorf found for Grade 1 at midyear (wish I could recall her name) . . .

Swimming Lessons

I have a theory that if you put a 7 year old in a swimming pool or a lake, you can stand back and watch him or her learn to swim. Throw that child a few pointers about kicking, stroking, and breathing and watch a swimmer materialize before your eyes.

I had the opportunity to witness just such a thing when I went to Ponderosa Hills pool with Athan, Leon and Aliou. Our hosts were Jenny, Kyle, and Candice, and when we got there at 10am, we had the entire pool to ourselves. The kids stayed in the pool for the next 2 1/2 hours, only emerging a couple of times to scarf down a fat pretzel, a bite of beef jerkey, or sip of melted yogurt before getting right back in the water.

Veterans Kyle and Candice were great instructors and life guards and undoubtedly the models for some of the things the boys learned. Jenny and I took turns getting in the water with the kids while the other one stayed on deck with an eagle eye watching their playful antics. Jenny pulled the boys on water boards for thrilling trips into the deep water and had a pool bottom "tea party" with Candice. I tended to put on my instructional cap, offering suggestions for improving mobility in the water. The main lesson of the day was cupping one's hands for greater traction during dog paddle and crawl stroke and looking at the sky while floating on the back to improve buoyancy. They all enjoyed learning how to do the dead man's float and diving from a kneeling position on the deck.

Athan probably had the most remarkable growth spurt when he discovered he could dive in and swim ALL the way across the pool. After about 10 of these trips, Candice led him to the deep end (with our permission) to try his new found skill there. He was glowing with pride, swimming beside the elegant mermaid Candice.

Aliou had a blast kicking, floating, and diving on water toys, but also demonstrated a very skillful back stroke.

Leon was an ever-eager student, who despite chattering teeth, continued to practice his crawl stroke all morning and finally mastered a pretty good dog paddle that took a little less energy and moved him more swiftly to where he wanted to go. His back float is also superb!

Kyle, the oldest of the bunch, showed everyone how to do flip dives off the side and handstands on the bottom, which they tried again and again. He was also a pair of 3rd eyes, keeping watch on 3 rambunctious 7-year-olds who were mastering the ability to swim.

Sadly, I forgot the camera, though I'm not sure it would have been easy to replace the eagle eye with a camera lens with everyone shouting "Watch this, Dearma!" Jenny and I agreed that being ultra-alert for 2 1/2 hours was exhausting. I don't know about her, but I took a nap when I got home.

Planting Pleasure

When I asked Culley if there was some kind of service I could do for his birthday, he said he'd like to have the planters on his deck cleaned up and replanted with annuals and some more perennials.

WOW! I thought, is this a gift for him or for me? Planning, shopping, and planting a little deck garden sounded like a lot of fun.

First, I drew a diagram of the deck and the placement of all the planters with their existing perennials, and then I set my mind to dreaming. I was thinking about color, seasons, deer, and children, all of which had to be factored in-- deer-proof stuff for the patio, flowers Nell could pick, spaces for the fairy gardens she and Huck like to make, plants that would bloom until Thanksgiving and ones that would return next spring, textures that would be pleasing against the oak backdrop that surrounded the deck, and colors that would be complimentary. I made lots of notes . . .

And then I went shopping and filled Cindy's truck with six packs and quart pots. I couldn't find the bulbs I wanted, but I would plant those later in the fall. At the house, I spent several hours cleaning up the planters, turning the existing potting soil and adding new soil to many of the planters. Then Cindy joined me, and we got to work planting. It took us 2 days. The work was such fun that at one point, Cindy said, "Why don't we do this for a living?" I was on exactly the same page. There could not be a more pleasant past time than working in the dirt with a passel of plants.

We filled the deck and patio with lavender, society garlic, petunias and zinnias and ganzia, coleus and baby roses, star jasmine and even a Japanese maple, to name a few. I'm looking forward to watching this garden grow, sure that in a month or so my dreaming will be realized.

Thanks Culley. This was a mutually beneficial exchange.

Clare is 2

Clare relished every minute of her 2nd birthday, reminding us all to slow down and savor time. She patiently awaited the older children who had to be called from play far and wide to come sing. She glowed after blowing out her candles, never for a minute realizing she'd had help from Dearma who was sitting behind her. She allowed the first piece of cake to go to brother Athan without a word of complaint, and he dutifully stood by to assist with present unwrapping--the hard stuff like breaking apart plastic ties and packaging. Clare carefully pointed to each letter of her name on every envelope and then studied each card as if memorizing the words. The time she took with each gift was the ultimate gift to the giver, topped off by the sweetest "thank yous" ever spoken. Once all the gifts were opened, she marched down to the lake--in her distintive deliberate stride-- to try out her new pink inner tube, a gift from Yay-yay, also know as Granddaddy.

Happy Birthday, Clare. We will savor your 2nd year in the style you so beautifully illustrated.

Mission Impossible

Around these parts, 4th graders typically study California history for their social studies curriculum. Jenny enlisted me to to take part in Kyle's study by doing a couple of field trips and helping with his mission project.

Kyle is a little sponge who soaks up what he reads, so when he, Candice, and I went to Grinding Rock State Park last fall to see MiWok artifacts, he was well versed regarding how the early native Californians lived.

Next up was the mission project, which I was really sweating. I didn't do all that well with my own kids projects, and not being a particularly handy person, I was not sure at all what to do to get this one started. The night before our first meeting about the mission, I did not sleep well. I was thinking about using building materials like paper mache or sugar cubes or something like that. I'd downloaded pictures and diagrams of Mission San Juan Batistia, the mission Kyle had chosen because he had visited it with his family, but I still didn't know what I was going to do to get us started.

Then Fred Dixion came to my rescue. Cindy told her mom about my worries, and she told Fred who promptly called me on my cell phone. He told me exactly what to get--styrofoam sheets for the structure and strips of discarded lattice for the roof. He recommended getting twigs for trees and some ceramic angels or crosses for decoration. What a relief! Now I knew how to get started.

I took Kyle shopping at Wal Mart for the styrofoam, and then we hit three thrift stores. By then Kyle was getting imaginative and found some great contact paper to use for the tile entry ways, and he found golf tees and green yarn that he thought could be fashioned into trees. We also found some angels for decorations. Then I came up with the idea of using the corrugated inside of a pizza box for the roof. We were set.

On building day, I brought all the stuff to his house along with glue and an Xacto blade. Kyle had a board for us to build the mission on, and he suggested we use a hot glue gun to connect the walls and roof. I'd never used one before, but he was an expert with the gun. In a couple of hours, we had our mission built, and I was pleased as punch. He did way more of the work than I did, and I felt like the whole thing had turned out just as it should. WHEW, I was glad to have that project behind us.

Finally, we went to Columbia State Park. Kyle was decked out to the max in a cowboy costume, so much so that a bus load of fourth grade kids visiting the park thought he was part of the show. Kyle had plans to arrest the robber when we went on the stage coach ride. He even had handcuffs, but sadly the stage wasn't running that day. So he panned for gold. His plan: "If I find a nugget of gold, I'm gong to buy my mom and dad a house and all the Legos I want!"

I'd say that's a pretty admirable goal for a gold miner.

At the Museum, Kyle wowed the docents with his extensive knowledge about the items in the dioramas. The boy knows his California history! So glad to have had the pleasure of accompanying him on this learning journey.

Change of Plans

Cindy and I planned to go to Todos Santos for two weeks in February to hang out with the dogs while Connie and Andy came back to the states to get their kitties. But all that changed.

Turns out the kitties bonded with Nora, the housesitter in California, so there was no compelling need to go get them, so Connie and Andy decided they would go camping since we were coming anyway. Then Heidi got VERY ill, and they weren't sure she was going to pull through. Meanwhile a bad cat mauled Ebby, and she was at the vet for a few days, and our normal cat sitter was not going to be able to watch our kitties while we were gone.

Though we had two excellent offers from animal lovers who were willing to watch the cats, we did not think Ebby could handle a stranger giving her medicine and taking her back to the vet to have the wound cleaned. Also, the bad cat was still hanging around, so Cindy canceled her plane reservation (now we had a big vet bill AND forfeited air fare).

Down in Todos Santos, Heidi was making a nice recovery, so Connie and Andy were going to be able to go camping after all, and Blossom would go with them. After my arrival and orientation, Heidi and I bid them farewell as they headed northeast to camp, kayak, and snorkel on the Sea of Cortez. Well, I waved good bye. Heidi hung her head in sorrow.

The first day was iffy. She wouldn't go for a walk with me; she jumped up and stood at the door at the slightest noise thinking they had returned, and then she vomited her dinner after which she went upstairs to her bed and would not come down. We are talking about a VERY old, large dog here, slightly senile and quite frail. I did not want her to get sick, or worse, on my watch. The 2nd day was better, but she is still making regular visits to the yard to stare longingly at the other car and the gate. She's waiting. Such incredible devotion.

I have just one question: Who is in charge here? The people or the pets?

SURPRISE!

Cindy's dad, Fred Dixon, recently turned 80!
WHOA!
Eighty!
8-0!
That's a lot of years!

So the family threw a Surprise Party. Despite all kinds of commotion in the days before the party, Fred never caught on. And when he walked through the door of the Clubhouse at Rawhide Mobile Home Park, he was totally suprised. His first expression said, "What the . . . ?" And then he broke into a wonderful smile as he recognized family from far and wide grinning back at him.

He circled the room greeting people, hugging them and shaking hands until he got half way round the room to face his brother Cliff who came from Kentucky for the party with his daughter, Sissy, and granddaughter Audrey. SURPRISE!
Next, he met his sister Barbara who came from Chicago with her daughter, Loretta. SUPRISE!
Sister Rosie was there also with a big group from Southern California. SURPRISE! The siblings had a great time catching up and cutting up!



The entire family enjoyed visiting as they ate sandwiches and salads, played ping pong, poker, and horsehoes. The cousins had has much catching up to do as the elders, especially when Cindy's mom brought in boxes of photo albums she had prepared for virtually every member of the family. She had gone through ALL of her pictures and labeled them and placed them in albums to give to each person. All across the room people were oohing and aahing and reminiscing.




Eventually it was time for cake and ice cream. Cindy had ordered a special cake with a photo of Fred panning for gold and there was also a cake in the shape of the number 80.

Near the end of the party, Cindy presented her Dad with a money tree to which Fred said with a twinkle in his eye, "I think I'll water it and see if it grows!"

It was a spectacular day of reunion and celebration. Spending 80 years on this planet is definitely worth celebrating. Congratulations Fred!

Saurkraut

Since I was a child, saurkraut has always been a side dish at Thanksgiving dinner. The dish came to our family from my paternal grandmother, Mary Kamak. We think of it as a Polish dish, but in truth the method of preparation is common throughout Eastern Europe. My mother learned to make the dish from my grandmother (her mother-in-law), and I learned from my mother. This year, I passed the tradition on by guiding Athan in the preparation of saurkraut. He chopped and sauted the onion. Rinsed the saurkraut. Released the flavor of caraway seeds in the hot skillet and then combined all three into the savory dish. I hope that the scent of roasting caraway seeds will someday remind him of Thangskgiving.

Thanksgiving 2009

I'm thankful for all the opportunities I have to watch young minds growing and learning:

• August doing 10th grade science, history, and literature in online courses;
• Cody heading off to do the last part of 8th grade with 5 amazing young fellows;
• Anna Mae becoming an adept user of the Internet, blogging, emailing, and discovering;
• Taylor's unique and amusing writing voice;
• Gianna's new found independence in managing school assignments;
• Kyle's astounding vocabulary and repertoire of little known facts;
• Candice & Athan as emergent readers;
• Leon's meticulous care with penmanship;
• Aliou's rapid mastery of phonograms;
• Huckleberry's stylistic and intricate drawing;
• Mary Autumn's fascination and concentration with workbooks;
• Nell's notorious narrative imagination;
• Clare's assumption that she too is a student of phonics, rhetoric, and script.

And last but not least, I was privileged to offer instruction as JL cooked her first turkey, 16 years into marriage. Can't wait to find out how it turned out.

May your feast be fabulous. Gassho!