Once Upon a Time.. . . .

 

Princess and the Pea

Although I've loved historical fiction my whole life, I was always especially fond of medieval history. As a child, Princess and the Pea was my favorite story and I often tried to prove I was a princess because my skin was so easily irritated by stiff fabrics, tags in the back and hair brushes. I even went so far as to put things under my mattress to see if I could feel them: I did not. Over the years, I leaned toward the King Arthur legend, Charlemagne and the Crusades.  

Although genealogy has been a hobby of mine for 50 years, I have never been on a quest to find famous people in our family. I was content with finding where our ancestor came from. Recently I've tried a new web site that I'd only "visited" briefly over the years.  It's the Wikitree site which has a "World Tree".  The concept is we all add to the same tree.  There are problems galore when thousands (millions?) of genealogists around the world are contributing. But, we are supposed to provide proof for our additions not hearsay or family legends.

So, I spent several weeks entering information (with sources), and then I found "gateway ancestors" which aligned my tree with royalty and nobility.  The royals have been genealogists for centuries so they aren't marrying too many cousins (like the Hapsburg line did).  With a "gateway ancestors", they've introduced me to family on every throne throughout Western Europe for centuries---most are cousins (King Charles III is our 16th cousin) and uncles, but several are indeed royal ancestors. 

Charlemagne

I think the first "royal" I found in our direct line was Charlemagne (748-814)  who is also known as Charles the Great.  It's been suggested that every person of European descent has Charlemagne as their ancestor. For many years, I've considered him the greatest king of all time. When I taught, I often told the story of Charlemagne learning to read because he knew the power of reading.  He encouraged education, opening schools and promoted legible writing including the widespread use of the question mark.  He always had a book under his pillow.  We have 76,759 paths to Charlemagne.He's my 33 and 36 great grandfather through my father LeRoy Long which makes him 35 and 38 greats for my grandchildren.  I sat stunned probably for about a week with the news.

He was the first emperor of the Carolingian empire consisting of what is today France, Germany, Belgium, Austria, Switzerland, Netherlands, Luxembourg,  and part of Italy and Czech Republic.  He is often called the The Father of Europe. He was very large even by today's standards 6"2".  The photo above is his reliquary located in Aachen, Germany.

Charlemagne had over 20 children with numerous wives and mistresses.  He insisted that all of the children receive a liberal arts education in addition to needlework for the girls and riding and weaponry for the boys.  I descend from two of them for sure : Bertha and Hlodowic (Louis). Others have some degree of uncertainty in the lineage.

Hlodowic

Hlodowic (Louis/Ludwig) was Charlemagne's heir becoming King of the Franks and King of Aquitaine. He is sometimes known as Louis the Pious, Louis the Fair and my favorite: Louis the Debonaire.  We descend from his daughter Gisela who was known for her virtue and piety.  She dedicated her life to educating her children with her husband Eberhard who became St. Eberhard. (We descend from at least three saints: St. Eberhard, St. Margaret of Scotland and San Fernando)

None of Charlemagne's daughters married---he feared their husbands would become political rivals.  It didn't stop them from having long-term relationships and children. But, it shows the political importance of marriages at this time.  Bertha is praised in particular for "having critical discernment and an appreciation for poetry".  

When her father died, she and her sisters went to live in convents which their father left them.  It's unknown which convent she entered but it was probably St. Riquier where her partner Angilbert had become the lay-abbot.

So, now when the tag in my shirt hurts, I nod and think, "It's just my Princess gene".

Leaving

In the spring, 

we unfurled ourselves

like leaves budding on a branch

reaching out to the sun for warmth,

excited about tomorrow:

nourished and encouraged 

by friends: 

inter-weaving our lives, 

believing in endless possibilities.

In the summer, 

we danced together in the gentle wind

supporting each other during the storms that came swiftly:

Most of us growing stronger— 

withstanding each storm---

perceiving we were invincible.

But.. . . .some didn’t survive the storm 

and 

fell 

away: 

leaving us behind.

In the autumn of my life,

my friends are getting weaker and leaving.

Some can’t hold on even on a quiet day:

Ever so gently falling. 

I struggle to hang on. 

I’m weary of grieving.

What will the winter bring?

A long restorative rest, 

or

will I fly away on the winter wind?

Travelling with Three Young Daughters

Visiting wax museums, a medieval feast, Hadrian's Wall, Stonehenge, ice cream treats, castle mazes, Beatrix Potter’s home, sleeping on a farm with cute kittens before. .. .

Cartwheeling at Canterbury Cathedral.

Sleeping on a slow boat to Holland, amusement parks, miniature villages, windmills before departing on a night train through Germany, visiting Memmingen, Munich and Mad Ludwig's castles.

While taking a carriage ride up to Neuschwanstein Castle with an elderly man from England, 

He looked at the girls, smiled  and said:

"Did I see you cartwheeling at Canterbury Cathedral?"

June 1986

English Language and Poetry

I love the English language.  While some people majored in English for literature and some for writing, I majored in English  because I love the language:  the history, the idiosyncrasies, the sounds, the plays on words and the shear poetry of it. Studying literature, I was attracted to poetry because it is English at its finest with each word carefully chosen.

Beginning with nursery rhymes, I've always enjoyed poetry.  I even wrote a piece about friends while at Girl Scout Camp "Everyone has friends, The butcher, the baker, The candlestick maker.  Everyone has friends." Sounds a little like a nursery rhyme doesn't it?

 One reason I enjoyed studying German was to better understand how English evolved as a Germanic language.  There I found the answers to questions like "Why does "two" have a "w" in it?" (Depending on the dialect, "two" is "zwei" or "zwo"in  German)  

While in high school I read poetry in Speech and Drama Tournaments.  Reading and analyzing William Blake's "The Tyger" took me to State where I won 2nd place. After re-reading it,today, I kind of wonder what I said about it that got me to State. I did give it a very dramatic reading which was more points than the analysis, I guess.

Later while in college I studied Victorian and Romantic Poets, but I never attempted to write poetry again until I was an adult.  I first began writing humorous rhyming pieces for invitations or  for greeting cards. One year I decided to write Haiku to accompany art my daughters' made for Christmas cards .Click here

When I taught English, of course I taught poetry.  The Harlem Renaissance poets really caught my eye.  I also enjoy Maya Angelou and lately Amanda Gorman.  I loved their terse style and vivid imagery in addition to the "blues"  Click here

Of course a message or a story is important. To achieve that a poet uses metaphors, similes, alliteration, form, personification, sound, repetition, rhythm, rhyme, symbolism and imagery. Not all poems have them all and rhyme is just one element which I choose not to use.

Rhyming is not important to me----rhymes are often forced.  And. .. ..what rhymes for a person in 18th century England doesn't rhyme in 21st century America.   So, I don't see rhymes as being universal for all English speaking people. However, rhymes don't have to be at the end of a line.  I aspire to rhyme like Amanda Gorman with her internal rhyming: 

We did not feel prepared to be the heirs of such a terrifying hour,
but within it, we found the power to author a new chapter, to offer hope and laughter to ourselves."

After many years, I started writing poetry again.  It's not something I can just sit down and start writing.  It's more like an itch that I need to scratch.  I find words and phrases in my head that I keep playing with. I write notes sometimes in text messages to myself.  After a while it starts to take shape.  I've even written poetry about. . . .writing poetry.

Words in the Wind

 

Words, images, ideas whirl in my head like leaves in the wind.

I try to catch them in the breeze, but they have their own mind.

I sit  and watch and wait.

The wind slows, 

the leaves drift down---

Fluttering to the ground, 

settling in the grass:

Poetry on a page.

Whittling Words

Writing poetry

is not just rhyming

not just couplets

not just alliteration.

Writing poetry

is choosing 

words wisely, whittling  away

at thoughts,

until a form appears,

an image takes shape---

Smoothing down the edges,

Sanding down the unnecessary,

Searching for the true.

Writing poetry

is not rhyming 

not couplets

Not alliter. . . hmm. . . .maybe 

alliteration is all right after all.

Cottonwood Tango

Cotton wood trees 

sparkling in the sun

like spangled Spanish dancers.

Branches bow and  dance in synchronized rhythm while

Saplings bend and sway in the sultry summer breeze

Leaves softly clapping.

Cicadas clicking castanets 

in cascading sound.

The staccato tapping 

of woodpeckers.

Cotton seeds drifting :

Confetti crescendo

The wind dies down.

The trees stand still.

The woodpecker flies. 

The silence is punctuated by a distant airplane,

The show is over.

    . . .for now

First Love

 If you'll recall I never really had a boyfriend throughout high school and most of college.  Also, you need to know I was very interested in foreign places with my deepest desire to travel to Europe but especially England.  I'd taken German in high school  because I thought that would help me reach the goal of going to Europe.  If I had taken French or Spanish, my parents would have said, "Go to Canada" or "Go to Mexico" but German. . . .I needed to go to Europe to learn fluency.  I wasn't particularly interested in Germany, but I did have interest in going to Switzerland (home of Heidi) and Austria. (home of Sound of Music).

But, my heart was in England, Scotland, Ireland and Wales. I loved British history (you have no idea how excited I was to learn that I descend from my favorite Scottish kings and my favorite English Queen---Eleanor of Aquitaine).  I read English literature:  the Brontes, Jane Austen, Thomas Hardy, Graham Greene.  My favorites novels were about the legendary King Arthur and Camelot. (I have an entire book shelf of King Arthur books) Although I majored in German, I also majored in English:  English literature and English language were my real loves. 

My good friend Ed (one of my high school "brothers") and I belonged to a group at church called The Searchers (my sister Jane and Grandpa's brother Tom also belonged).  We had a house on the church property where we met, studied, partied and practically lived in the summers when we were home from college.  It was a group of about 30-50 from all religious backgrounds. We did have one regular meeting with an outside speaker during the week which everyone attended.  

I walked into the meeting that evening and saw that Ed had brought someone new---a very cute blond young man who was busy taking in all of the chaos and joy before the meeting.  He was smiling as his eyes darted from person to person.  I liked that smile.  Ed saw me and  raised his hand that I needed to come over.  He introduced me to Tony. . . .an exchange student from England working at McDonnell-Douglas (Boeing) for the summer. I sat right down next to Tony and eagerly started chatting with him until the meeting began.

I was 19: the summer between my sophomore and junior years of college.  Tony was maybe 20, a student at Birmingham University and a "co-op" with Rolls-Royce Aviation.  That meant he was a student but also worked at Rolls-Royce---a little like an internship.  (Grandpa was a co-op at McDonnell Douglas as was Ed).  Tony didn't drive, but he lived in an apartment, so I assume Ed drove him everywhere he needed to go.  Ed was certainly our "chauffeur" most of the summer with the exception of one date.

Just before I was to leave to go back to college, Tony asked me to go the Muny Opera to see Camelot (my favorite musical) about King Arthur.  He'd received tickets to the McDonnell box seats.  It was the perfect date!  We had dinner at Fox and Hounds at Cheshire Inn---about the most English setting anywhere in St. Louis. Then we went to the Muny with the best seats!  After all of my years sitting in the "cheap" seats, I had never dreamed I'd be escorted to the box seats of one of the biggest companies in St. Louis.  Ed did not drive.. .. I think I might have driven although a limo was not out of the question.  OK, a horse and carriage would have been perfect, but I'm pretty sure that did not happen. Although it was "magical" sitting with Tony in box seats watching Camelot, I also discovered that seats that close were too close.  I remember thinking, "I can count the nose hairs of the conductor".  But I digress.

After Camelot, we just sat in the car outside his apartment and talked and talked.  I left for college soon after and then, got one of the most disappointing phone calls I'd ever received.  We only had one phone on our entire floor in my dorm, so someone had to get me for the phone call.  They were grinning but wouldn't tell me why.  Ah, the English accent. Tony was calling from the New York City airport--no easy task back then.  He was on a pay phone, putting coins in every few minutes.    When I got on, I knew it was him talking but I didn't understand anything he said.  While I never had any trouble with his accent in person, over the phone in 1966. ....I couldn't understand him.  I was so frustrated, I remember going down the hall of my dorm crying---a combination of him leaving but also my frustration at not being able to understand him. 

I only heard from him one more time---a Christmas card that just had his name. .. .

So, recently I began to wonder what happened to Tony.  I googled "Tony Edwards, RAF" (Royal Air Force) and was surprised at how quickly he popped up photos and all.   He was every bit as successful as I knew he would be.  He had a very successful career in aviation engineering and even was awarded a medal by Prince Phillip (Duke of Edinburgh).  He was on at least 16 boards.  This link will take you to a page where you need to scroll down to find Tony, but it details his career.  I don't think my 19 year old self would have been surprised at his success at all:  I had high standards.

But meanwhile, meeting Tony planted a seed in my brain and a new goal:  exchange student. And now I knew my "type": intelligent, warm, successful, good looking  and. . . . .not an American.

Working Girl

 

I had my first job at about 9 years old----it was a job of necessity, but not because I needed money. I only had one craft that I thoroughly enjoyed---making potholders on a loom with pre-made loops.  I loved making them and creating new designs, new color combinations, but I had given them to all the grandparents, aunts and my mom, but  I still had a surplus. So Mom suggested I try selling them door-to-door.  It was not a successful business:  I don't think I sold many.  My ego was shattered that strangers were not interested in all of my beautiful potholders.  But, I must have sold enough to try a different door-to-door job next.

My next job at about 10 was selling Christmas cards door to door.  I had samples that they could choose from and I would order them.  I had a sample case and looked very professional opening the case with all of the samples.  I learned to compliment them on their choices, suggest a font, shake hands and wait until I could deliver them.  I felt so grown up.  That was easier to do because it wasn't my creations that people were turning down, but someone else's Christmas cards.  But, that was a pretty seasonal job. 

Also at 10, I had something else to keep me busy---my baby brother Jim.  I mothered him, entertained him, played with him.  That lead to my next job: babysitter. My first job at about 11 or 12 was my cousin Cheryl.  My aunt and uncle were playing cards at a neighbor's house, but they were comfortable with me watching Cheryl because I had experience with Jim.  I babysat  off and on even through college.  My college babysitting jobs were more challenging---babysitting strangers' children in hotels and motels. Because of my life guard training, I could safely take their kids to the unguarded pool.  But the hotel rooms were pretty confining after swimming and when the kids went to sleep, the lights and tv were off.  Before cell phones, I was left with nothing to do but curl up in a hotel chair until the parents got back.

My first job with taxes being taken out began at 15 and ended at 20: lifeguarding and teaching swim lessons  at our private swim club.  It was a great job. In addition to my family being members, many principals of the schools and players on the Cardinal baseball team belonged. My bosses were often coaches from my high school.  I worked with a lot of fun people from my high school and a neighboring one.  But it was grueling on hot, crowded days.  When we were off the stands, our job also included, checking people in, checking their clothes in with giant mesh bags, cleaning the restrooms and the snack area.  Other than the fun people I worked with, I loved swimming after hours when the pool had closed having it all to ourselves.  But it was a boring job most of the time, with too much cleaning.  However, sitting all day observing people, I did became an expert at relationships, body language and getting to understand people which was a great asset for me as a teacher later on.

I didn't work a job during the school year in high school because I had too many activities.  But when I went away to college, I decided to try a few jobs on campus:  tutoring, food service and mail distribution.  Tutoring was probably my least favorite because I never felt like I really helped them much.  To get a B.A. degree some students had to have foreign language to graduate.  Some of those poor people had a very difficult time learning a foreign language in college. I would work with them, they knew the material, but somehow they would fail the tests.  I finally suggested to one student that he have a good stiff drink before testing to to relax him. .. .that didn't work either. When they failed, I failed.

I had two jobs in food service: working on the food line of a dining room and managing a snack bar.  Working on the food line was humbling.  First, we had to wear aprons and hair nets--such a nerdy look ---not the image I wanted in Greek Housing (fraternities and sororities all ate at the same dining room).  Second, despite the apron, I ruined my clothes hauling large vats of food to the line.  The worst was a giant vat of tomato soup that I jiggled too much resulting in it splashing me so badly, that I had to go home and change clothes. I'd ruined my nicest sweater.  The only benefits to the job were socializing with friends who came through the line and the paycheck.

When the job (still in Greek Housing) of managing the snack bar came up, I jumped on the opportunity to get off the food line. There were several advantages:  it wasn't ever terribly busy and friends could drop by.  Also, there was a juke box with popular music that made the hours go by quickly.  I had to prepare some food like hamburgers and hot dogs on the grill, but mostly I was selling bags of snacks and getting soft drinks.  I had to clean the place up when we closed which was probably the only negative about the job.

But my favorite job was "mail clerk". The building that had the snack bar and dining room, also had the mail room.  It served eight dormitories of Independents and Greeks. It had mail slots on 3 sides with a door for me to enter on the 4th side.  I'd take the bags of mail and put them in the mail box slots in my own little room.  I felt like I was spreading joy each time I put a letter or post card in someone's mailbox.  I looked forward to the happy faces.  What I hadn't counted on were the sad faces when someone had no mail.  This was during Viet Nam.  Many had brothers, friends, boy friends who were overseas.  When they didn't get a letter, they often thought the worst.  And, then there were the ones who had a boyfriend or girlfriend at home that no one knew about but the mail clerk.  They'd be out dating, partying, enjoying the single life when the mail clerk knew. .. .. .

The most fun college job was "Go-go" dancing.  Several of us started out dancing for  a Casino night our sorority hosted.  We made very short red dresses with black fringe.  With our white go-go boots we danced in cages around the "casino".  It was so popular, we were called on to re-create those dances for several events in the community for which we were paid.  I loved grinning and telling people I'd become a professional dancer!

As a teenager, a job's a job---it's not usually part of your life time goals.  It's great when you can find something you enjoy doing and get paid to do it. But, that's not usually the case.  I enjoyed making pot holders and would probably still be here with my little loom, if I thought they were marketable.  So finding joy in a job that pays is gold but that's not usually a teenager's life.  On down the road when you are in a job that's your career, you'll look back on those teenage jobs and think, "I'm having a bad day but it's not nearly as bad as cleaning up vomit on the pool deck".  And, sometimes, like one of Leah's friends, you discover that mowing lawns is what you enjoy and you form a successful landscaping company.

On the Periphery

 

Although I have a lot of self confidence, am not afraid of speaking to large groups, I do not like being the center of attention.  So, getting teacher of the year, having to stand on a stage in front of an audience, listening to speeches about me and then having to shake hands with everyone had the opposite effect my colleagues intended.  They wanted to recognize me, thank me, but I just wanted to fade into the background.    I prefer being the "worker bee" who sees that everyone is seated comfortably, has the program,  a warm beverage and feels welcome.. I prefer being on the edge where I can slip out of the room when overwhelmed by too many people, too much noise, too much chaos.

Call it ADHD, enochlophobia or agoraphobia.  I call it needing to feeling safe, calm, with no anxiety.  I recently learned that others in our family have this anxiety, too. We are not afraid of flying in an airplane, not afraid of travel, not afraid of enclosed spaces, but the chaos of a crowd over-stimulates us and causes anxiety.  If I sit with my back to the crowd and can look out a window, I can feel the tension in my shoulders relaxing.  If I can sit on an aisle seat with an easy escape, I can enjoy the concert, the play, but seat me in the middle, I feel trapped and do not enjoy the experience.

Sometimes even watching an event on TV, makes me uncomfortable.  Watching the Chief's parade on television celebrating their Super Bowl victory created such anxiety, I had to go outside and walk around.  All I could see were a lot of young people (including two grandchildren) unsupervised, getting more and more ramped up and no one was attempting to get them under control.  Sadly, it came as no surprise to me that there was a shooting with a young mother being killed.

This is not something recent---it's not the result of being immune suppressed or isolated from covid.  I recall back to my childhood and it was always there.  My sister remembers with great joy going to parades and circuses with our family.  Those parades and circuses with excited people crowding around just made me want to go home.  I enjoyed the circuses once we got to our seats, but the anxiety of walking in a crowd to find the seats or staying with my family as we made our way to the car far eclipsed any joy I had.

The ability to slip in and out of a situation is also important.  As a child I often went with my class to the symphony.  Although I loved getting dressed up and going to the symphony, listening while sitting in a much too big seat for my short legs was another problem.  I'd slip out of my seat, tell my teacher I was going to the bathroom but really I was going to the back of the theater where I found my comfort space.  Instead of my poor legs dangling in a seat, I was standing and dancing in the back of the room thoroughly enjoying the concert because I could move and didn't feel "trapped".

I was in several plays in high school and college, but never wanted a starring role.  To audition for the plays in high school, we all had to read the "starring" roles.  I was so nervous when I kept being called back to read---it was down to just 3 of us for the starring role that I didn't want (Emily Webb)  I wanted a lesser role (Rebecca Gibbs) because it was less stress, a lot more fun and the attention wasn't really on me.  I was probably the only person that prayed for a lesser role.  Performing on a stage as Rebecca was different from being the star.  I could perform on stage because I had the "support" of friends and I was never center stage.

So, I think of myself as "Girl on the Periphery"---on the fringe of a crowd, in the supporting role of a play, and setting up chairs for a meeting: with an easy escape, within the company of friends and welcoming the new-comers. It's the role I feel comfortable with.

 

Lesson:  Know yourself.  Know your limitations.  Find strategies to unknot those anxieties.

Upon reading The Only Woman in the Room

 Book Club here at McCrite read and discussed two similar books:  Fast Girls about the 1936 Women's Olympic Track team and The Only Woman in the Room about Hedy Lamarr, movie star and inventor.  The theme was similar---women struggling to break through that "glass ceiling" allowing them to be successful in a male dominated world.

The discussion here was a little like a therapy session---many of us giving examples of hitting that "glass ceiling" and with some of us breaking it.  The most disturbing story was from Marsha who told us she was a twin.He was always put ahead of her:  she got used to taking a back seat.  Marsha celebrated her 90th birthday that same week with a party.  Her daughter filled us in on more details.  When the twins were born, they only weighted about 5 lbs together.  Marsha was literally pushed aside with all care and attention going to her brother to ensure his survival----not hers.

Anita told of several generations of men in her family who encouraged her, her grandmother and her daughter to compete in a "men's world".  Her daughter as a child said she wanted to go to Harvard Law School like her father, and they never discouraged her despite Harvard not allowing women to attend school there.  By the time her daughter was old enough to apply, they were accepting females students.

My story was somewhere in between Marsha's and Anita's.  First I wanted to be a farmer, but my grandmother said, "how about a farmer's wife?"  Then in high school "career day", I signed up to learn about the FBI, walked in the room and was told, "there are no females in the FBI."  I felt belittled, embarassed and angry.  It wasn't about the FBI, but being told I couldn't do something.  So, instead I chipped away at that glass ceiling trying to prove I could compete equally.  By my senior year, I was president of International Club, Museum Club and Church Youth Group.  I tied my friend Randy for the number of organizations we were president of and that felt good.

I started college wanting to be a pastor.  I majored in English, German and minored in history to prepare myself for seminary.  I knew women went to seminary---one of our youth directors was Judith Craig, a student at Eden Seminary.  What I didn't know was, women could go to seminary, take classes, but they were "ordained" as Christian Educators and not pastors.  I'd led the youth group at church, been on the Board, preached sermons, taught Bible School but that wasn't enough because I was a female.  So, I shut that door and decided to be a public school English/German teacher. 

I've always been pretty good at making lemonade when life handed me lemons.   I couldn't go to seminary, but how about trying out for that exchange program my college had with Memmingen, Germany. In the past, the candidates had only been male college graduates but I was a female undergraduate.  The exchange student sent that year had been a brilliant student of German, but socially he had failed miserably in Germany. They were looking for someone more social and out-going---not someone who sat in his room, studied and read.  Would I interact with my students? Would I be willing to speak before groups of adults? Would I try to make my lessons interesting for the students?  Yes, yes, yes. If I was an undergraduate, then I couldn't go to the University in Munich and I couldn't have a Fulbright Scholarship as the previous recipients had.  I was OK with all of that.  So, off I went:  the first female and the first undergraduate exchange student to Memmingen. Chipping away at that glass ceiling.

Later I married, had three lovely daughters but others were also chipping away at the glass ceiling, too.  Doors and careers were opening up.  Women could be lawyers, Presbyterian pastors, business women not just teachers, nurses, stewardesses and secretaries.  I'd been very active at church, chaired a pastor search committee, been Sunday School Superintendent, written curriculum, given workshops, but then I was asked to be an elder on Session.  I loved teaching not ruling.  Yes, I'd had leadership positions but it was no longer something I craved.  I looked at my three daughters, stood up straight and became an elder so they could see women could do this.  After a year on session, I was elected Clerk of Session (the lay leader), a job I really did not want, but felt like I needed to take on.  I was the first female Clerk of Session at St. Mark Presbyterian.  Others had been asked and turned it down, but I didn't think I would be a very good role model for my daughters if I turned my back on being the lay leader of our church.   Chipping away.

After serving as an elder on Session, my daughters were getting older so I needed to start thinking about going back to work but felt like I needed to go back to college to brush up my skills.  A mom that I volunteered with at Henry School was talking about going to Eden Seminary.  I perked up thinking maybe I could be that pastor after all.  I prayed, I thought, I made lists of pros and cons and decided to keep that door shut.  My family and my daughters meant a lot to me.  If I became a pastor, they would suffer----the timing was not right.  I wanted us to continue worshipping as a family and not have them go to St. Mark (where their friends were) while I pastored another church.  I knew I could do it, but did I really want to do that to my family?

There comes a time when focused goals become less important than the big picture.  I did go back to school to brush up on my skills and got a master's in reading.  I started subbing in the schools where my daughters attended which was a pretty easy transition (basically I was being paid to do things I'd been volunteering to do before). The extra money helped pay for my tuition.  I eventually was hired as a part-time teacher, part-time aide in reading and English as Second Language:  the transitions were smooth with hardly a ripple in our family time. By the time I was finished with graduate school, Rebecca was off to college and I applied for full-time teaching positions:  German, Reading, English as Second Language.  I don't regret any of my decisions:  I'd helped other women, helped my family and was able to grow.

Recently, I was cleaning out some files and found my passport from 1972.  Remember, I'd been to Germany for a year on a passport issued in 1967.  But this 1972 passport really made me sit back and take a deep breath.  I hadn't fully realized how far we've come until I saw it.  Grandpa has his full name, birthdate, birthplace, a description of how he looked and I had "Jaclyn"  that's all--not even my full name.  Anyone seeing that passport would have thought, I had been nothing more than a spouse tagging along like a dutiful little woman. I'd planned the trip (Grandpa had never been to Europe), I spoke the language and had to do all of the speaking, translating, purchasing.  I had been in charge of the entire trip but my passport said I was "Jaclyn".

THAT is the reason for this message to my granddaughters----Marsha, Anita, thousands of women and I have worked very hard to give you your life, your choices, your freedom.  PLEASE, do not forget that glass ceiling was chipped away by some very determined women.  Don't forget.

The fight is not over---the Glass Ceiling still exists.  Caitlin Clark, basketball phenom.  She is expected to earn $76,000 as #1 female rookie in professional basketball compared to her male counterpart who will earn between 7 and 11 million dollars.  The NCAA women's tournament had more viewers than the men's tournament and yet, the women's programs got far less money. (click here)

Lessons:  Don't be afraid to stretch yourself but also don't be afraid to step back and say, "this is not the right time, the right place for me right now." 

Pray for help and guidance.  Listen for answers.

Encourage other women---don't tear them down.  Even if you disagree with them and don't like them. If they are working to make a better world for you, your children and grandchildren, thank them. 

Upon reading Tom Lake

 I picked up the novel Tom Lake by Anne Patchet and was hooked immediately.  It started out with a young high school student auditioning for Our Town but she's telling the story to her three daughters now in their 20s.  And this is after reading My Grandmother Says She's Sorry by Frederick Backman with a Grandmother sending her granddaughter messages to deliver after her death to people who will fill in Grandmother's back story.  And this after Libby sending me a text message wanting to know more about my romantic past.

So, now I'm up at 3:30 AM can't sleep because I can't turn my brain off.  Maybe now that Libby is 17 and Anna 14, NOW is the time to tell some stories.  But where to begin.  Then I realized I'd begun with a post about being 14-15 years old and meeting my future husband. (click here)

So to continue that story. . . . .I was not at all interested in Dave Morgan.  He was too old (18),  too handsome and "stuck up".  My friend Hilda was aflutter after meeting him and I just looked at her and said, "His older brother is more my type---not as handsome, much friendlier and he has warm eyes."  

I was simply not interested in dating or having a boy friend---I really didn't see  much point in it.  I was interested in having fun in larger groups like our church youth fellowship, flirting but backing away---staying focused on being "successful" in school by being in clubs, being recognized as a leader, getting in National Honor Society.  I was going to go to college ( being the first female in my family) and had no interest in "relationships" other than friendship in a more brotherly kind of way.

Meanwhile, my friendships in high school began to shift.  My "girlfriends" were starting to be more interested in boys than I was. And they were getting very "catty" putting other girls down.  I hated that. I was interested in being part of the crowd and going to all of the dances---with or without a date.  Dancing was the point of  a "Dance", right?  I gradually found myself pulling away from my girlfriends and actually aligning myself with many of my "boy" friends or "brothers" which is how I thought of them. They were supportive, intelligent, funny and I was happier being with them than the anxiety of my "girl friends"

By our Senior year, my "brothers" were beginning to be interested in a group of girls a year younger than we were.  I knew several of them from church and dance club, so I tagged along to the parties.  As a group we called ourselves the "yo-yos" which described us perfectly---the ups and downs of adolescence.  (Uncle Harry Provost was part of this group before he and Aunt Jane met) I became such a part of the group, they somehow forgot I was a year older and invited me to their 50th reunion where I had a great time catching up with them.  In retrospect I wonder if I should have been in their grade.  

I started Kindergarten in January after I turned 5 in November.  St. Louis Public Schools had two classes a year for graduation, also.   The problem was moving to St. Louis County where they had only Fall enrollment.  What to do with those of us who only finished half of third grade---should we repeat it or push ahead.  Many of us were pushed ahead so I graduated from high school at 17 (not turning 18 until November of my freshman year of college).  So, although I was smart enough to not "miss" that half of third grade, I might now have been mature enough.  

There were several advantages to being pushed ahead in school.  One was I was not a "baby boomer"---that huge group of babies born after the war.  The enormous population bubble caused problems with the schools which didn't have room for all of the children.  So, I had a less stressful school situation being in a smaller class.  The second advantage was I had "flexibility" which I later used in college to "take a year off" college to live in Germany.  But, as a teenager, I probably would have been happier with the group of friends a year younger.

My Friend Hilda

It was after Sunrise Service and we were all standing on the church parking lot/cemetary at Bellefontaine Methodist Church. The Morgan Family were at the worship service. Tom, the youngest son was our friend and the motherk, Eloise was the librarian at the school where I was a Freshman (Riverview Gardens) We introduced ourselves and the older brother Harry, smiled, made eye contact but the middle brother Dave looked right through us. . . . That didn't stop Hilda from fluttering her eyelashes and swooning after the meeting. . . . I was not impressed, Dave was very handsome, but I did not appreciate his attitude. That first meeting might have tainted my feelings about Dave Morgan when I met him the second, third, fourth and fifth times: very handsome but "stuck up". I'm sure Hilda never thought I'd actually marry Dave 11 years later.

We lost touch in college, but Hilda did know we married. I always felt a little guilty since she had "dibs" on him in 1960. On April 8, 2024, Hilda has been gone for 30 years. I still miss and remember her. RIP

Have you ever had a friend who would talk you into doing things you would have never done on your own? My friend Hilda really wanted to meet Dave Morgan who was President of his Senior Class at Hazelwood where she was a Freshman.

Trash to treasure

 

Our trash room is nothing to write home about. . . .or is it?  

Before Christmas I had seen photos of some beautiful light displays using crystal and glass candle holders to display vintage Christmas ornaments.  I loved the look but I'd sold all of my vintage ornaments last year and left all of my candles holders behind when we moved because we weren't allowed to have candles. . . .I regretted that decision seeing that beautiful display and discovering battery operated candles.

One day I walked into the trash room where a box was sitting on the floor that said, "FREE".  So I decided to look through the box and I saw these lovely Mikasa crystal candle holders (2).  The tea lights were a little big to set underneath so I set them on top with a glass Christmas tree.  I have thought a lot about how fortunate I was to find that.

Now, it is January---so cold and dry.  I bought a humidifier on Amazon but it couldn't keep up.  It was small and I was regretting that I'd left my big humidifier behind.  I put a kettle of water on the stove which helped with humidity but I was afraid I'd forget about it and burn my pot or start a fire.  Two days ago, I walked into the trash room and saw two boxes with this sign.   

I really only needed one so I left one behind.  It has worked out great in our living area---holding 6 liters of water.

Another thing I miss was all of my empty recycled containers.  I had glass jars and plastic tubs that food had been in which I used for storing things like bird seed.  But, I left them all behind because bird feeders were another banned object in our apartment building. When winter came and birds were huddled together on my patio which is L shaped and protected, I started wishing I had some bird seed.  I had suspected one of my upstairs neighbors was feeding the birds.  After a windy night, remnants of a ball of bird food  was scattered on the grass and on our patio. .. .

We enjoyed seeing the birds so much, I decided to be a rebel and buy some bird seed---waste free---so when the bird ate it, they wouldn't be leaving behind hulls.  Now, I began to wish I had some of those recycled tubs I used to store the seed in.  Look what I found in the trash room last night.

Now I do have some standards---I refuse to root through the trash bins.  But if an item is just sitting, there and I need it. .. . .I'm beginning to think there's something magical and mysterious about that trash room.  I'm also enough of a "Monkey's Paw" fan that I have to be careful what I wish for. . .