Here We Go!

“So much of our time is preparation, so much is routine, and so much retrospect, that the path of each man's genius contracts itself to a very few hours.”

Ralph Waldo Emerson

It is time!

I have been working in my classroom a lot the last few weeks.  I've taken everything out of cabinets, drawers and files, cleaned and totally reorganized.   Hopefully I will remember where I placed things
when I need them.  Keeping my fingers crossed. 

I have left my room many afternoons thinking all was perfect only to tear through it again the next day. I even coaxed my husband to help with moving furniture around Sunday afternoon.  Shhh, we won't tell him I moved most of it back the way it was when I returned on Monday.
Have I mentioned I am a bit obsessive?

Tomorrow I will meet my children and their parents during our open house.
It is an exciting time, and I'm ready to return to my school routine.
Yes, it is time.

During all this busyness I haven't felt like I had the time to commit to a novel, but found my solace instead with short stories and essays.  I'm presently reading Dear Life, a collection of life stories by Alice Munro.   With her extraordinary gift of storytelling Ms. Munro gives us, in few pages,  fully developed character and tales of  lives changed by a simple event or action.  Each piece is a journey without the slightest hint of the final destination.

I was gifted David Sedaris's squirrel seeks chipmunk, I suspect because of the picture of the squirrel and chipmunk staring amorously into each other's eyes.   To be honest I wasn't for sure I would enjoy this book.  Although many are a bit "colorful", most stories are a bit fablesque ending with a lesson.   Maybe it was because I was tired, but I found this collection
 of irreverent tales hilarious.  This is satire at its best...
well, at least at its funniest.

Tomorrow after Open House I am headed to the bookstore in search of a book to slip into over my long Labor Day weekend.   I have a few on my list, but I am up for suggestions.  I'm not quite sure if I am wanting an escape or something a bit weighty.  I suppose I'll figure it out.

I read many enjoyable books over the summer; I am looking forward to sharing my favorites with you.

Full Circle

“[T]hat old September feeling, left over from school days, of summer passing, 
vacation nearly done, obligations gathering, books and football in the air ... 
Another fall, another turned page: there was something of jubilee in that annual autumnal beginning, as if last year's mistakes had been wiped clean by summer.” 

Wallace Stegner, Angle of Repose

Blooms are fading.  

The sun is rising later and setting a little earlier.

Shadows and reflections are bending and rising,
dancing to a different rhythm.

Autumn is still weeks away, but for me summer is drawing to an end.
My beloved books are left laying unopened for longer periods of time.  The calendar
has come out of hiding; meetings have begun.  The voice of a new school year
 is whispering in my ear.

As a student, I loved everything about beginning a new school year... new clothes, new books,
new and old friends, and favorite teachers.

As a mother,  I always found the beginning of school difficult.  I was never ready
to give up time with my daughter.

As a teacher, I get excited thinking about the promise of a new year.
I suppose,  I've come full circle.

Another Book Report

The wolf also shall dwell with the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the kid; and the calf and the young lion and the fatling together; and a little child shall lead them. 
                                                                                                             Isaiah 11:6 

Carol Rifka Brunt's novel, Tell the Wolves I'm Home does not easily fit into the category
of a "summer read."  Because the narrator is a fourteen year old many are calling it a coming-of-age story, while others have labeled it a young-adult book.  I prefer to describe it as a lesson for the heart.


"My sister, Greta, and I were having our portrait painted by our uncle Finn 
that afternoon because he knew he was dying."


The year is 1986, June is losing her best friend and uncle to aids, a scary disease she knows nothing about.  Her mother and father are pre-occupied with careers;  her sister, Greta, just wants to distance herself from June, her uncle and his embarrassing disease.  When Finn dies June feels no one misses him the way she does, until she befriends his boyfriend who is also dying.   It is in helping Toby, against her family's wishes, she becomes better acquainted with an uncle who taught her to look at what isn't in a sketch, the negative space, to find the truth and heal.

"The negative space.   That's what Finn called it.  He was always trying to get me to understand negative space.  And I did.  I could understand what he was saying, but it didn't come naturally to me.  I had to be reminded to look for it.  To see the stuff that's there but not there."

Tell the Wolves I'm Home is not about aids, nor is it a statement on lifestyle choices.  It is a story of fearless acceptance, unconditional love, compassion and forgiveness.  I see it so often in the classroom, it is the youngest who live with open hearts and teach the greatest lessons.

I've wanted to share this book with you for several weeks.  It touched me on so many levels I was afraid I couldn't do justice to this heartbreaking story.  And, I am certain I have not.  

A light summer read?  No. 

Tell the Wolves I'm Home is a book to be savored with the mind and the soul. 

 It will invade and stay in your heart long after you have closed the covers.    

   

Happy Reading!

Morning breaks and it is just like every other morning.  It is't a bad thing, it is just the way it is.

Routine is good, status quo can be comforting.  No surprises.

Then without warning, somewhere in the day, the game changes, 

the wind switches direction, pieces are moved and fate takes control.

This morning started out like any other.  I roamed outside with Willie, made coffee and saw R. off to work.  I walked my two miles, read and answered emails.  I sent out a few reminders and set up a meeting or two.   As the morning progressed I kept my eye on the clock.  I had a much needed hair appointment I was thinking of canceling.   I had a little minor out-patient surgery on my back yesterday; I was worried I might not be able to lay back to have my hair shampooed.   All morning I found myself reaching back to touch the bandage covering the stitches wondering if I should go or wait.  I weighed the possible pain with having to reschedule an appointment that was made six weeks ago.  Time passed, and vanity won out over comfort.

My appointment was for 2:30, I left home at 2:00.  I took my usual route, the traffic was slower than normal.  I wouldn't have time to stop into the bookstore.  Parking can sometimes be difficult, but there was a spot waiting for me right in front of the spa.   I had just enough time to run into Starbucks for my green tea, before my appointment time.  I ran into an old friend, we stood chatting about our girls then went our separate ways.  

The receptionist greeted me as I walked past.  I usually sit in the waiting area, but on a whim walked back to M.'s cubicle.   He was finishing up someone and told me sit in his second chair.   As we chatted I watch another  salon client walk to the back of the spa.   I thought I recognized her, but couldn't put my finger on who she might be.   Soon she walked back, she looked so familiar and I became more certain I knew her.   She reminded me of a friend from long ago.  A friend I lost contact with when we both moved away.  I knew that was impossible, and decided it was probably someone from one of the schools my daughter attended or a church committee.  I probably didn't really know her at all;  it was just a familiar face.

After talking about my color, and deciding not to change anything the colorist left to go do her mixing.  M. left to meet his next client.   As they entered I saw it was the woman I had been trying to place.  I thought to myself, surely I will hear a name and figure out who the person is.

She sat down.
"Your new",  M said.

"Yes, I am.  I just moved here."

"Where are you from?"

"Salt Lake City, Utah".

Well, that put an end to my inquiry.  I don't know anyone from Salt Lake City.  The conversation went a little further, and I couldn't help but put my two cents worth in the mix.

"I'm sorry, I feel like I should know you".

"Well, have you ever been to Salt Lake City", she asked.

"No", I replied.

"I lived in Atlanta?"

My heart skipped a beat.
"Did you live in Nashville?"

The woman look stunned.  "Yes."

"Are you JH?"
Before she could respond I gave her my name,

"I'm Bonnie C." 

There was some screaming and hugging.   M. stood back and watched speechless, 

and he is never speechless.  I looked at him, and said, "You don't understand, we were friends, our children were in pre-school together, we would go to lunch so many years ago."

Was it fate, a friend from long ago just happen to follow a recommendation from her realtor (who is not a client of M) and scheduled an appointment with my hairdresser on the same day in the time slot just following my own?

Is this serendipity?  

People walk in and out of our life everyday.  You see people in the grocery store, at church, in a restaurant their face makes an impression.  You recognize them the next time you pass them, you may even smile and say hi.

  Your friends, you think you will know forever, but events happen.  You move,  they move, keeping contact is not always easy.  You don't know why more of an effort wasn't made, but it wasn't.   You think of friends from long ago occasionally wondering what they are doing, would you recognize them if you saw them again.   We've aged, does it matter?  Would they be as recognizable as someone you passed in the market?  Then you get the chance.  A chance to rekindle a friendship.

Lunch is planned.

 There are years to catch up with.  

I am still questioning, 

What are the chances?