Category Archives: growing up

What I CAN see

Yesterday afternoon, I went for my annual eye exam. I was six months late, so it was actually an eighteen month checkup. As I suspected, my eyesight had gotten worse since my last exam in December 2013 and I needed a new prescription. This spring, I began to notice when I wore my sunglasses that the horizon was a bit out of focus, not significant, but enough to be annoying.

a pale yellow lily yearns for the sun
a pale yellow lily yearns for the sun

I started wearing eyeglasses in seventh grade. My vision was off just enough to warrant a visit to the eye doctor and I learned my eyes needed help – just a little. I’ve been wearing glasses since. When I passed forty several years ago, I began to notice that I needed reading glasses for reading (and see) up close. It’s the rule of forty, when you reach forty years of age, there needs to be at least forty inches between your eyes, and what you are trying to read or see up close. Gradually, I came to grips with the ideas that my arms were not long enough and my eyes needed more help. I made the transition to progressive lenses and I haven’t regretted it, in fact, considering the amount of reading I do, as a teacher, blogger, reader, and writer AND how much time I spend looking at a screen – phone and computer, my eyes needed the extra boost. Continue reading What I CAN see

40 years ago, today – part 2: Camels in the Night

I had seen a car crashes and crushed cars, but I had never seen a car tossed to the side of the road and left behind destroyed after hitting a camel. I will always remember the drive from Dhahran to Riyadh across the Saudi Arabian desert in the middle of a hot July night with my dad, my new stepmother, and Warren and David, my two brothers. I was thirteen and it was 1975. It was the summer between my seventh and eighth grade. It was my summer vacation, it was our summer vacation, and we were driving across the desert to spend the summer with my dad in Riyadh. When my parents divorced, the divorce agreement gave him forty-five days of summer visitation and monthly visits, which were impossible because we lived in Sugar Land and he lived eight thousand miles away in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia. When I first learned, I was going to spend the summer in Riyadh with my two brothers, a summer in Saudi Arabia sounded exotic and exciting, but soon the feeling of leaving and leaving my friends, my home, and fun things in our neighborhood made me resent my dad and the trip.

my passport - issued in 1973
my passport – issued in 1973

Our summer vacation had begun normally. School let out and we were able to see our friends and have fun in the neighborhood. However, I knew, really and the three of us knew we would be leaving for at least a month to see my dad in Saudi Arabia. To get ready for our trip we had to get new passports and have our immunizations updated. We had our pictures taken and went to the health department in downtown Houston to have our cholera shot. The shot didn’t hurt, though the hustle and bustle of getting ready made getting ready for a trip I didn’t want to go on even more difficult. We also had to pack and make sure we had the things we needed especially, the medicines I needed and the shots for my asthma and allergies that my mom gave each week. It is hard to remember everything you need, until you need it. Finally, my dad came over to pick us up and fly with us. As glad as I was to see my dad, I knew his arrival meant we were really going and that made me sad. Continue reading 40 years ago, today – part 2: Camels in the Night

40 years ago, today

My parents divorced in 1975. I was in seventh grade and twelve years old. After the divorce, my dad moved to Saudi Arabia, remarried, and started over. My dad had visitation rights each weekend and half the summer – 45 days. The weekends were a moot point – a weekend commute of almost 8,000 miles one-way was not practical. Especially in 1975. My communication with dad was limited: letters took weeks to traverse back and forth with a reply. I have most of the letters saved in a box in the basement. Phone calls were too expensive and the connection was shaky, too.

sugarland_saudi_)map

Forty years later a much has changed, but a weekly commute still is not practical. There is the internet with e-mail, blogs, Skype, and more. Even a phone call is made easier, too.

summer75_before
the four of us – Warren, dad, me, David – taken before the trip in front of the garage

That first summer, my dad got us for 45 days, the summer of ’75. I think it was more my mom sent us to dad. All three of us, at the same time. I have memories, my passport, getting shots, a few slide pictures from the trip, but not much else. Memories come back in bits and pieces, jogged by an anniversary or a probing conversation with my brothers or mom. Sometimes those conversations are painful and the memories are not there and have been lost. Continue reading 40 years ago, today

Day 3: The Transition

It’s Friday morning. It’s quiet, it’s gently raining, and I’m listening to “Stormy Weather” and going back in time. I went back a year ago and skimmed posts from last summer while I was doing research for an upcoming post and new page.

mydesk

Summer so far has been feeling like a LONG weekend, so far. I wrote the Superstition post before moving on to other tasks Wednesday and helped B and O pack for Ohio Thursday. They left yesterday and will be gone all weekend long. That leaves W and I to our own devices for a couple of days. W has been up and out of the house before 6 AM all week long – since Tuesday. He has wrestling camp followed by football camp until noon. Then, he’ll come home and sleep. He’s busy all weekend with scout event this evening and more football on Saturday.

A  teacher’s summer isn’t what many folks think. It’s full. The first couple of days are always like recovering from a hangover or a hard workout – rest, relaxation, and recovery. I hardly drink any longer, so it’s been a while since a hangover and I haven’t exercised that strenuously for a while, either. But, I remember how it feels. The transition to summer is like changing jobs – I’ve only changed twice, but I remember the awkwardness of feeling change. One day, I’ll step into retirement and permanent summer. I had better have a plan. Continue reading Day 3: The Transition

Peonies and time

It is Thursday, May 28th and it is a beautiful Thursday afternoon. The sun is shining, the birds are singing, and everything is right with the world. Well, almost right with the world. B’s out of town helping her mother (BTW, my favorite mother-in-law) transition back home. And, it’s somewhat quiet here – a lonely kind of quiet.

one of B's many peonies - childhood memories
one of B’s many peonies – childhood memories

This morning I noticed B’s peonies had begun to open up and bloom. I made a note to myself to take a few photos and send them to her. Peonies are some of her favorite flowers, her mother’s, too. I did better; posted them to Facebook and then it dawned on me to share them even farther: here. I hope it cheers B and her mother up. It put a smile on my face.   Continue reading Peonies and time

Forever in Blue Jeans

It’s Sunday, the day before Memorial Day, and the Indy 500 starts in less than a half hour. The pre-race is on and I wish I could watch it with my science students. It’s speed, physics, material science, and adrenaline all wrapped into 500 miles. I’ve been to the race track many times before, but this year I’ll be watching from the family room with B, W, and O. We’ll be thinking of B’s dad who was our ticket to the track. JD passed away last year after a long life of service to his country, community, and his family. He’s always in our thoughts.

JD Weaver (1926-2014), B, and my nephew - JD's grandson
JD Weaver (1926-2014), B, and my nephew – JD’s grandson

In my last post, I honored my dad, whom also is never far from my thoughts, either.

 There is irony in my last post because my dad’s birthday – 5/20/1933 – is also another birthday, of sorts: blue jeans were born, or rather patented by Levi and Strauss. Irony. I shared this with my classes and reminded them that education was the key to not wearing blue jeans as my dad believed deep in his core. While there is absolutely nothing wrong with hard, physical work – it needs to be done – but, most folks don’t aspire to it. Continue reading Forever in Blue Jeans

Taurus: The Bull

My dad was a Taurus. Today would have been his 82nd birthday. He passed away after a brief illness on July 20, 2009. He was 76, too young. His passing took me by surprise, though if I had been paying attention I would have known, or at the least been more prepared, more ready.

My dad and his mom - one year old - May 1934
My dad and his mom – one year old – May 1934

It seems like just the other day, but it was almost six years ago. It was at the end of the school year and I remember the entire event unfolding in slow motion in my memory, as if it were yesterday.

A year after my dad passed away, my brothers and I escorted his cremains to France and spread his ashes where he wanted to spend eternity in the countryside of northern France. Since that summer, I’ve been on a quest to recapture and gather my history, my story – who I am, where I have been, and where I am headed. In a way, MakingtheDaysCount.org has been my journal and my travelogue. Continue reading Taurus: The Bull

Poem in my pocket – homework

Earlier today, I discovered to my dismay,
I had missed an important day.
I looked down into my screen
to discover what I had missed
National Poem in Your Pocket Day.

I didn’t have a poem in my pocket,
It – my pocket that is – was rather empty,
But I smiled, and moved forward,
One foot after the other,
And, made it count, anyway.

Sometimes, a day flashes past or the week disappears before my eyes without me realizing it.  This week has been a week full such days. It’s easy to miss a day, it’s not so easy to miss a week. Time waits for no one.However, thanks to Mary (one of my favorite bloggers) from A Wilderness of Words I was reminded about National Poem in Your Pocket Day. Thank you Mary!

courtesy Random House kids
courtesy Random House kids

Continue reading Poem in my pocket – homework

Earth Day 2015

2015-03-12-1426188041-1888511-EarthDay

Earth Day was Wednesday this year. Last year it fell on Tuesday and the year before on Monday. Next year, it will be a Friday. The day – April 22 – moves according to the calendar just as Earth is moving – every year, every day, and every moment. We live on a dynamic planet. Earth Day 2015 was two days several days ago. As usual, my timing is askew.

We humans share the planet with all other living things – all sorts of plants and animals. We are a dynamic species always evolving, always searching for ways to change our environment to best fit our needs. In doing so we have changed Earth.

Originally, humans wandered from place to place in search of food. Sometimes these early humans were successful and other times not so successful. However, we humans are clever and always searching for a better way and those early humans sought ways to find food much more quickly. We eventually learned that it was much easier to domesticate plants, animals, and learned to farm. So, we made pastures and fields where forests and meadows once were. Once we harnessed our food supply, we used our cleverness to adapt Earth even further.

And, that is how we find ourselves in the mess that Earth is in today. Continue reading Earth Day 2015

Tweets and time

What do dynamite, Teddy Roosevelt, and Malala have in common?

I posed that question to my eighth graders last week. It was how I began my science instruction for the day and I tweeted it on my school Twitter account. It was Thursday, the day after Wednesday; because that is the way the week usually plays out. Friday came and went, then Saturday, and now it is Sunday morning.

I’ve been feeling guilty lately. I haven’t written, blogged, or read much outside my realm of eighth grade science and history since Thanksgiving. I was looking at my blog and reflecting about its purpose and my commitment to the blog – writing, and in life in general. I looked back at the history of the blog back to my first year, 2010, and every afterward. In December, I fell off a cliff. It wasn’t just this year, it was last year and every year in December my posting dropped off and in each month there is a significant gap between Thanksgiving and the next post, today’s post is 17 days after Thanksgiving. I find comfort in the fact that every year I seem to be consumed by a vortex. It’s every year, not just this year.

Which is why I found the above riddle so intriguing. Continue reading Tweets and time