Mike and I were married 28 years ago.
Anniversaries are normally spent with our children.
Road trip on our 25th was the one time it was just the two of us.
Cruise to the Bahamas marked our honeymoon (our wedding if you ask Mike).
Here's to looking forward to many shared years to come!
15, 1992
Saturday, March 14, 2020
Friday, March 13, 2020
Hug a Little Tighter
Sitting here in my living room, I can see all three of my favorite people: my daughter Hope, my son Jacob, and my husband Mike. To be self-quarantined with these three people would be heaven. We fit together, love being together. This will be short-lived though because Hope has to fly to Ohio tomorrow. Her cat is in boarding there; little Woof needs to be taken home. She and Hope will self-quarantine in her apartment. My heart is scared. I keep telling myself to remember "Faith over Fear," but it is difficult.
My district announced today that our spring break has been extended until March 30. Upon the recommendation of the Tarrant County Health Department, our district along with neighboring ones, will be closed from March 16-23. We will provide online learning opportunities beginning the second week of closure. That is the first week of the fourth nine weeks so that makes sense. I will send out a message to my students to remember to read. It is so important to keep that practice in place.
My family and I are watching the movie called Outbreak right now. It is crazy how it is based around a virus that is like the flu with coughing and a fever. It is airborne and does begin to spread VERY quickly.
Is this COVID-19 going to be contained? Are we going to stop its spreading by staying home? Are we being told everything there is to know about it? Is there something more to it that the government knows that we don't?
I am sure others have the same questions as I do. Our society is so accustomed to the Go, Go, Go Mentality that it has difficulty staying in one spot. Can we all do that?
Hug your loved ones a little tighter tonight. Keep your family close.
My district announced today that our spring break has been extended until March 30. Upon the recommendation of the Tarrant County Health Department, our district along with neighboring ones, will be closed from March 16-23. We will provide online learning opportunities beginning the second week of closure. That is the first week of the fourth nine weeks so that makes sense. I will send out a message to my students to remember to read. It is so important to keep that practice in place.
My family and I are watching the movie called Outbreak right now. It is crazy how it is based around a virus that is like the flu with coughing and a fever. It is airborne and does begin to spread VERY quickly.
Is this COVID-19 going to be contained? Are we going to stop its spreading by staying home? Are we being told everything there is to know about it? Is there something more to it that the government knows that we don't?
I am sure others have the same questions as I do. Our society is so accustomed to the Go, Go, Go Mentality that it has difficulty staying in one spot. Can we all do that?
Hug your loved ones a little tighter tonight. Keep your family close.
Thursday, March 12, 2020
Deja Vu -- my first time
We are in Ruston today and visited LA Tech to see if my daughter's brick had been lain. She graduated last year and is now in law school. Here is my brick from 1991. Hope is fourth generation Moreland to attend LA Tech so there are many relatives who have bricks here as well.
In 1986, I moved into Miller Dorm at Louisiana Tech University in Ruston, LA. In the Spring, I moved into the brand new Aswell Dorm and then later into Harper Dorm. My years of living in dorm rooms were very similar to living at home: I had two sisters with whom I often shared a room. My college roommates were wonderful women who taught me the importance of being encouraging.
In the Fall of 2016, my daughter moved into Harper Hall. For me, walking into the dorm, was an eye-opening experience. We walked in on Move-In Day, and I not only knew exactly where things were, but the smell.... was .... exactly .... the same. It was as if I had never left. I walked across the lobby and straight to the small hallway where the elevators were located. We rode up to the third floor and found Hope's room. It had the same floor plan as my seventh-floor room. As we unloaded her boxes, we helped set up her room. When the drawers to the built-in dresser were sticking, I knew the old trick of using a bar of Ivory soap to rub along the rails to help the drawers slide easily. When searching for the living area and the washroom, I walked in and memories flooded back. There were faded walls and evidence of where mirrors used to be, sinks, even bulletin boards. The furniture was the same pieces that had been there when I had lived there. In fact, Harper Hall has been slated to be torn down. It is my wish to own at least one of the night stands we had in our rooms.
A month into my daughter's first quarter at Tech, I came to visit. I stayed in the dorm with her. As I lay in the twin bed that was positioned in the same place in Hope's room as the one I had in my old room, I closed my eyes and was transported back thirty years. In the darkness of the night, the most unique feeling enveloped me. Sounds of showers in shared bathrooms turning on, the metal echo of doors opening and closing, the massive air conditioning unit outside blowing, cars and conversations outside, all took me back. I was 20 years old again and could hear my roommate breathing across the room. Deja vu...
Growing up, my mother moved us many times, sometimes every couple of months, sometimes every couple of days. To "go home" once I was older was visiting my mom in the apartment or home where she currently lived. That changed frequently, too, until the day she had her stroke, and I was in control of where she lived. I had never experienced deja vu -- ever. When I experienced it that night in Hope's room in Harper Hall, I was overwhelmed with a sense of home, of coming back, to something I knew well. Memories flooded my mind. Even the next year, when Hope moved into Aswell Dorm, it was hauntingly familiar. I never slept in her room that year, but it always felt like I was returning to something that was inherently mine and now, my daughter's.
In 1986, I moved into Miller Dorm at Louisiana Tech University in Ruston, LA. In the Spring, I moved into the brand new Aswell Dorm and then later into Harper Dorm. My years of living in dorm rooms were very similar to living at home: I had two sisters with whom I often shared a room. My college roommates were wonderful women who taught me the importance of being encouraging.
In the Fall of 2016, my daughter moved into Harper Hall. For me, walking into the dorm, was an eye-opening experience. We walked in on Move-In Day, and I not only knew exactly where things were, but the smell.... was .... exactly .... the same. It was as if I had never left. I walked across the lobby and straight to the small hallway where the elevators were located. We rode up to the third floor and found Hope's room. It had the same floor plan as my seventh-floor room. As we unloaded her boxes, we helped set up her room. When the drawers to the built-in dresser were sticking, I knew the old trick of using a bar of Ivory soap to rub along the rails to help the drawers slide easily. When searching for the living area and the washroom, I walked in and memories flooded back. There were faded walls and evidence of where mirrors used to be, sinks, even bulletin boards. The furniture was the same pieces that had been there when I had lived there. In fact, Harper Hall has been slated to be torn down. It is my wish to own at least one of the night stands we had in our rooms.
A month into my daughter's first quarter at Tech, I came to visit. I stayed in the dorm with her. As I lay in the twin bed that was positioned in the same place in Hope's room as the one I had in my old room, I closed my eyes and was transported back thirty years. In the darkness of the night, the most unique feeling enveloped me. Sounds of showers in shared bathrooms turning on, the metal echo of doors opening and closing, the massive air conditioning unit outside blowing, cars and conversations outside, all took me back. I was 20 years old again and could hear my roommate breathing across the room. Deja vu...
Growing up, my mother moved us many times, sometimes every couple of months, sometimes every couple of days. To "go home" once I was older was visiting my mom in the apartment or home where she currently lived. That changed frequently, too, until the day she had her stroke, and I was in control of where she lived. I had never experienced deja vu -- ever. When I experienced it that night in Hope's room in Harper Hall, I was overwhelmed with a sense of home, of coming back, to something I knew well. Memories flooded my mind. Even the next year, when Hope moved into Aswell Dorm, it was hauntingly familiar. I never slept in her room that year, but it always felt like I was returning to something that was inherently mine and now, my daughter's.
Wednesday, March 11, 2020
The Call of the Wild venting
***Spoiler Alert***
In 2003, I returned to teaching in public schools. I was hired to teach English Literature and Math Quest. Part of the English Literature semester course was the teaching of Jack London's The Call of the Wild. I did it a little differently than the other teachers (as I seem to always do). We would listen to parts of the novel using a recording on cassette tapes, stopping when students had questions or when I felt we needed to discuss scenes or at predetermined stops to end the reading for the day. At one point, I skipped watching the movie in its entirety at the end of the novel to viewing clips of what we read the day before at the beginning of class the next day. This was helpful as it opened discussion for those who had read, those who were absent, those who had questions, and prepared us for that day's reading.
I saw the newest movie tonight. It was a cute movie. It could easily be used in a movie/book comparison. It will open some good dialogue. It had direct narration from the novel and followed many of the main points from the novel. The characters were all there except Francois is a woman in the movie.
What is it that was different? Any of Buck's hardships -- the brutal loss of Curly, the death of Spitz (not really a hardship), the beating from the man in the red sweater, the loss of the team, even the killing of the bear, the moose -- are gone. Yes, this movie insinuates these in some cases, but it is very minor and are hidden. Children can watch the movie and not be scared. However, it doesn't build the immensity of Buck's growth, his Call to the Wild. Part of this Call involves Buck's killing of larger and larger animals. The last is killing man, cutting the last thread to domesticity. The movie is more civil.
One of the things I asked my students to do when we read the novel was to compare Buck's relationship to all the different owners in the novel: Judge Miller, the man in the red sweater, Perrault and Francois, the mailman, Hal and Mercedes and her husband, and then John Thornton. By studying these relationships, the reader comes to understand that Buck never truly loved any human until John Thornton. As the Call becomes stronger and stronger, only the love for John Thornton pulls him back to domesticity. When John Thornton is killed and Buck kills the Indians, the reader feels Buck's pain but is spared the hurt of seeing John Thornton dead as he is in the pool of water. The reader and Buck know he's there, but he is unseen. Buck is now free to answer the Call. He fathers many descendants and becomes a legend in the folklore.
The movie does make a good connection between Buck and John Thornton, but it is not as strong as the novel.
Is the movie good? Yes. Is it as good as the novel? No. Do most people read a novel to the same depth as we studied it? No. So is the movie a good replacement for those who don't read the novel? Uhm, I guess so.
Tuesday, March 10, 2020
Education or Space Travel
During my senior year in high school, Sally Ride came to my school. She met with all the seniors and talked with us about space travel. There were only 55 students in my class as we were a very small school in north Louisiana. Since I was sitting on the front row, I could easily have reached out my hand and touched her.
I had already decided I wanted to major in Mathematics at Louisiana Tech University. What I hadn't quite decided was whether I wanted to focus on education or NASA. Mathematics is like a second language to me, a puzzle to be solved. When I watched the movie Hidden Figures, I could easily relate to the mathematician Katherine when she is staring at the numbers and knows she remembers a formula and goes to find the book that has that info. I never used a scientific calculator--you know the ones that have the graphing screens and memory function. I just remembered the formulas.
During my time at LA Tech, I chose to focus on education. I feel teaching is what I was born to do.
I had already decided I wanted to major in Mathematics at Louisiana Tech University. What I hadn't quite decided was whether I wanted to focus on education or NASA. Mathematics is like a second language to me, a puzzle to be solved. When I watched the movie Hidden Figures, I could easily relate to the mathematician Katherine when she is staring at the numbers and knows she remembers a formula and goes to find the book that has that info. I never used a scientific calculator--you know the ones that have the graphing screens and memory function. I just remembered the formulas.
During my time at LA Tech, I chose to focus on education. I feel teaching is what I was born to do.
Monday, March 9, 2020
Holding Her Close
I see you:
That
river
of
tears
that
courses
behind your eyes, your smile
disturbing the flow,
Pain pulsing just below the surface, visible to us few.
I see you,
Your heart beating for others
Your heart beating for others
Living with love for a child l o s t
But wrapped in love keeping her close.
I see you.
Passion that fills a room —
Teaching, creating, journaling, advocating.
I hear you
Whispering memories —
Her life strong when you close your eyes —
Making a difference.
I feel you!
Comfort — receiving and giving
Healing
Her forever near.
Hebrews 11:1 Faith is the evidence of things not seen.
***I attended an ALAN Master Class in November. The presenter spoke of her young daughter who had committed suicide not too long before. My mother had passed in August, and my heart still ached for her. To say I saw more than the presentation is an understatement. The next day, this presenter was still on my mind, and I wrote this poem for her. I have revised it, but I have never just sat down and written a poem before with ease. Maybe some day I will send it to her.***
Sunday, March 8, 2020
A Taste to Remember
The day had turned out much like a warm spring day at home. The showers having passed with the wind blowing strongly, bringing the sunshine with it, Hope and I exited the Palace grounds and began our walk to the train station. It's not too far, maybe a mile, but I am strolling along trying to store all that I see in my mental bank.
Green trees line the streets. The sun shines smartly down on our heads, but it is a welcome respite from the cool showers of the morning. Wide, shaded sidewalks make their way down the hill to the little shops we had passed that morning on our way to the Palace of Versailles. What a beautiful city! It feels as it we have stepped back in time.
"Is it still open? I have to try one from this city, too," I tell Hope. She is worried we will miss the train back to Paris. "I'll be quick!" I duck into the tiny macarons shop. Up on the top shelf is a flavor I haven't seen yet so I buy two. The owner assures me they are the best.
Stepping back onto the sidewalk, I open the tiny brown bag and take out a salted caramel macaron. It has to be the ugliest one I have seen so far. With black crumbles that look like bits of pepper covering the outside, the macaron has a light greyish shell. I sniff it and look at Hope. She gives me a sour look. It's been a long day, and I am walking at a leisurely pace. She's wanting to sprint. I take a tiny bite and stop in my tracks. Closing my eyes, I moan and rub my tongue all over the roof of my mouth, swallowing regretfully as that bite is gone. I am in heaven! Oh the creaminess, the smooth caramel with just the right smidge of salt, and of course the crunch adds the final touch.
Hope is several paces in front of me. "Are you sure you don't want a bite?" I ask her.
"Mom, come on!"
As I pick up the pace, I savor the final bites of these two unforgettable cookies, making a mental note to find a replica at the next macaron shop I pass. Believe it or not, those were a unique experience. Throughout the week, Hope and I had many macarons but never two as satisfying as those.
We did make it to the train station with time to spare, happy we decided to take this unforgettable day trip.
Green trees line the streets. The sun shines smartly down on our heads, but it is a welcome respite from the cool showers of the morning. Wide, shaded sidewalks make their way down the hill to the little shops we had passed that morning on our way to the Palace of Versailles. What a beautiful city! It feels as it we have stepped back in time.
"Is it still open? I have to try one from this city, too," I tell Hope. She is worried we will miss the train back to Paris. "I'll be quick!" I duck into the tiny macarons shop. Up on the top shelf is a flavor I haven't seen yet so I buy two. The owner assures me they are the best.
Stepping back onto the sidewalk, I open the tiny brown bag and take out a salted caramel macaron. It has to be the ugliest one I have seen so far. With black crumbles that look like bits of pepper covering the outside, the macaron has a light greyish shell. I sniff it and look at Hope. She gives me a sour look. It's been a long day, and I am walking at a leisurely pace. She's wanting to sprint. I take a tiny bite and stop in my tracks. Closing my eyes, I moan and rub my tongue all over the roof of my mouth, swallowing regretfully as that bite is gone. I am in heaven! Oh the creaminess, the smooth caramel with just the right smidge of salt, and of course the crunch adds the final touch.
Hope is several paces in front of me. "Are you sure you don't want a bite?" I ask her.
"Mom, come on!"
As I pick up the pace, I savor the final bites of these two unforgettable cookies, making a mental note to find a replica at the next macaron shop I pass. Believe it or not, those were a unique experience. Throughout the week, Hope and I had many macarons but never two as satisfying as those.
We did make it to the train station with time to spare, happy we decided to take this unforgettable day trip.
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