Really Priceless!

My Surprise

Several years ago my daughter assembled a book of poetry from various poems my mother had written. Just about every subject was covered except one. She had never written a poem about me, her one and only daughter! When I brought this to her attention, she did what she always does. She started to argue with me about it, but I proved her wrong. The fact of the matter was that she had never written a poem about me. I have to admit it hurt my feelings that my existence didn't inspire her to write something...anything about her ugly duckling daughter. I didn't expect something to rival William Shakespeare. A little Mother Goose would be nice!

Like many elderly people, my mother has a daily routine. She likes to spend her afternoons in her art studio. I call it her cave. One afternoon several months ago upon returning from her cave she placed this piece of paper in my hand:

At 91, I have to admit that she's going strong! Yes, she went through that period I called her "empty pod" or "alien abduction" period and I really doubted she was going to come out of it, but she did. It took a lot of work on my part and it almost put me in a rubber room in the process, but she's back and doing better than ever. Her health is great and her mind is sharp (sharper than mine I have to admit). Maybe what we both need is some medical marijuana and a smile! Now, that's a strange trip I don't know if I'm ready for...smoking dope with my mother just seems a little too weird even for Mildred.

When Serenity Shatters

Growing up as a child of the 1960's something scared me more than the boogeyman, more than a werewolf, more than Frankenstein, more than Count Dracula and more than invading aliens from outer space all rolled into one huge, very real threat.  The Cold War between United States and Russia had escalated to a fever pitch. I remember having air raid drills during school hours in case of a nuclear attack.  Since Bangor was home to Dow Air Force base we, residents of Bangor, Maine were very aware that our small community would be just one of the many ground zero targets. 

Even as a small child I knew there was no bomb shelter secure enough that could save me and those people I loved. I had seen the films of nuclear bomb explosions. I watched the news! I heard what was said! Everything in the path of a bomb blast would violently evaporate in flames in just a split second. What I saw in the faces of the adults around me was that we really were on the eve of destruction and our fate rested in the hands of our elected leaders. The whole world held its breath while the nuclear scenario played itself out. 

Needless to say, many years later I'm able to look back and shake my head as I remember those turbulent days and now I wonder how today's children feel as they have "active shooter" drills in their schools.  My generation was able to move forward and graduate and become adults, yet today's youth feel the very real threat of gun violence everywhere around them. Where can they go today that hasn't been desecrated by guns? Is there any truly safe place these days? Do you feel like you're living in a country that's becoming more divisive and hate-filled every day? To what do you attribute the rise of gun violence and what can we do to change its trajectory? 

Like before I'm holding my breath and hoping for a favorable outcome, but to date our elected officials seem to be deaf and blind to what's happening to this country. I wonder just when will enough be enough. Who will be the last person killed before our elected officials do something to keep all people safer?

BACK IN THE DAY...

I found a newspaper article awhile ago and honestly didn't know how I felt about it. Parents are children's first teachers and role models so if parents want their children to cuss like drunken sailors then I'm all for teaching children how to spell "fuck" right along with teaching them how to spell "cat" and "dog" correctly.  So if we want our young females to look and act like hoochie mommas/cum dumpsters then we (mothers) must set that example at home and other places. Why not have our young daughters wear make up, skin tight daisy dukes and low cut crop tops to school or better yet to church? Or how about let's teach our children that school is a place to get an education? A place that will only better their life in the future if they put in some time and effort into it and treat it with the respect it deserves. OMG! When did I drink the Kool-Aid? lol! Mildred is that really you?

Back in April, a school in Houston, Texas set a dress code for parents...yes, you read that right! I wrote "P-A-R-E-N-T-S". Please read the letter that was sent home to the parents and tell me what you think. Should schools have a dress code for both students and parents? Do the schools have a right to dictate what a parent can wear on school property? Or are dress codes a violation of a parent's 1st Amendment Right? What do you think? I know! People should know better! Parents should set a good example! Blah! Blah! Blah! But take a look around...do they really know better? You tell me????

A mother in Texas claims she wasn’t allowed to enroll her daughter in school because of the outfit she was wearing. KPRC reported that Joselyn Lewis was asked to leave Madison High School after wearing a T-shirt dress of Marilyn Monroe and a head scarf. Lewis said she recently pulled her daughter out of another school due to bullying and wanted to enroll her at Madison High.
“I wanted to see proof of where it says parents can come dressed a certain way, but it wouldn’t show me that. I wouldn’t leave, so they called the police department. They called them on me and I guess he was coming to tell me to leave, but I was already on the phone with the school board,” Lewis said.

(I don't mean to throw Ms. Lewis under the proverbial bus because I've seen mothers dressed much worse, but this is the photo that came with the article.)

I think back to a time when my mother wouldn't leave the house unless she was all decked out. When she moved to Florida, it took her a long time to get used to casual dressing and wearing shorts out in public. Now, whenever I go to Walmart I see people in pajamas and worse. They look like they rolled out of bed and I'm beginning to wonder if there's such a thing as "sleep driving" (similar to sleep walking) because they all seem to end up at Walmart. Follow your dreams to Walmart, but don't forget to bring your wallet!

DARK SHADOWS

When I was young younger, I used to race home from school to watch Dark Shadows on the boob tube. Yes, it was a poorly made, low budget horror? soap, but most kids from my generation ate it up as if it was written by God himself.

Several years ago I bought the complete Dark Shadows set and I sat and watched it with my Shih Tzu, Fenway. She and I thoroughly enjoyed the simplicity/complexity of it and its packaging was simply genius. The DVD's come in a coffin housing the individual DVD's that make a picture of Barnabus Collins (Jonathan Frid), a 175 year old vampire resting in his coffin.

Is there anyone out there who was a Dark Shadows fan and wants to come binge watch Dark Shadows with me? I'm sorry, but the plane ticket is not included, but the popcorn is!

Spinning The Principal

By the time I got to 6th grade, Mr. Honey (pronounced Hone-ey) was not only the principal of Larkin Street School, but he was the 6th grade teacher as well.  I guess he figured all 6th graders at his school needed a special kick in the butt before entering Junior High School and he was just the man for that dubious distinction.  For the most part, I'd give him an A for being a good teacher, but an F for being a horrible, hardass principal. 

Our class was probably average sized for that time period.  There was roughly twenty of us to his one.   Class sizes had shrunk considerably a few year before when Dow Air Force Base was decommissioned.  Out of those 20 or so in my 6th grade class, today I can only remember a handful of people's names: Mike, Rod, Noreen, Margie, Sherry, Dana, Nancy, Bart, Junior, Carol, Cheryl and Colleen.  I guess that's a pretty big handful, isn't it? 

On many occasions Mr. Honey not only taught us the standard 6th grade curriculum, but he tried to prepare us for life as best he could. I remember him telling us that statistically speaking one of us wouldn't make it to adulthood. What? One of us would die?  His words, I'm sure, were said to make all of us a little more watchful of our own actions and the actions of others, however; I doubt his words were remembered by many after he spoke them.  After all, at that age, aren't we all invincible?  His words have definitely resonated in my head a few times along the way and for awhile I believed I was going to be that statistic.  But lo and behold not only did I fool myself, I fooled many others who had the same thought.

Sixth grade was definitely a year of spreading my wings and learning to think outside the box.  Until this point I was a good kid and a good student.  Sure, I was a little on the chatty side and my mouth seemed to always be described in detail in notes on my report cards.  I even earned the nickname "Gabby" when I was younger and thank God it didn't stick!  I had in many instances learned that clowning around and running my mouth was a good cover for what was really going on underneath.

Mr. Honey fell from my grace the day he suspended several of us from school because he knew all of us would have to face our parents as well.  Kids rarely use their brains when being mischievous especially kids with poor impulse control.  Planning things out is a learned behavior and comes with experience.  A bunch of us had decided to play spin the bottle after school with a glass milk bottle one of us had stolen from inside the school.  We selected a secluded corner of the schoolyard in back of the school for the spot to make our circle.  None of us gave a thought to teachers still being inside the school.  We all thought the spot we had selected was safe from any prying eyes.  In reality, I'm sure whatever teacher witnessed this spectacle was amused by what she saw, but such unruly actions had to be severely dealt with by administering a punishment that would keep us all from doing anything like that again. Suspension was what Mr. Honey selected and all that did for me was make me want to test authority all the more.

Addendum:  I can't count this as my first official kiss because I didn't get kissed because the game was rudely interrupted before that could happen. I hate when that happens! These are just some of the woes of being a clueless, numb as a stump 11 year old who got suspended from school for playing spin the bottle!