Alex and Charlie nailed it!

October has been a fun month with the boys. They were happily surprised to find a large pumpkin in the classroom. They tried coloring it with crayon which didn't work very well. Then they decorated it with markers, which worked very well for my little scribblers.

We took it outside on a sunny day and sat in the driveway using hammers and golf tees to pound into the pumpkin. We extended the activity by hammering words and alphabet letters that they recognize. 

By the time they were finished, they had nailed those words and letters, and they had a fun time doing it.

This week we will remove the golf tees and send the pumpkin home so they can watch the deer and wildlife come eat it.

 

Nature's thrills

Autumn is my favorite season. I am in my glory, love the sights and smells of the changing season. Have energy! Even though I do not like or look forward to the shorter daylight hours, I love the majestic trees and thrill at the secrets that float through the back door on a breeze: someone is cooking cabbage. A pizza is in someone's oven, and I know who is going to have pumpkin pie or muffins for desert.

As the leaves let go, the sound of the freight train off in the distance, on it's predawn run, seems louder with fewer buffers to dull the rumble.  My imagination runs along those rail tracks from state to state imagining...

Alex and Charlie and I went to the park to crunch in leaves, look for colorful baby maple leaves, and sing songs to squirrels. 

They rode their trikes on downhill paths, one zooming out of sight and the other bellyaching it was too hard to peddle back. But they did, with a little help from me. We had fun, made memories, enjoyed the sun on our cheeks and the breeze in our hair. Ahhh, fall.

The boys posed for me, and I developed the photos of them "blowing" then pressed the leaves we collected between contact paper to preserve them. I can't get Alex's picture to post correctly, but it is equally as cute. 

Are the leaf colors peaking where you are?
 

I've been shot.

I scheduled my second Covid booster for Friday evening at a local pharmacy.

I thought I knew what I was in for since I have had terrible reactions to the vaccines. Literally wiped out and suffering from teeth-chattering chills, but no fever, for one and a half to two days. Doctor tells me that means I have a strong antibody.  

If only THAT had been the worst of it. I filled out my paperwork and when the pharmacy tech called my name, she asked if I was back in town. I told her I'd never left town. She asked my birthdate and middle name again. Then she said, "I see you have recently received the vaccination."

Nope! "Well that's weird, there is another person with your exact name and birthdate, and she lives in your zip code.

I laughed and explained I had received her birth control pills once when I was waiting for antibiotics. We had a laugh. Then she asked when I returned to St. Louis from Kentucky.

"Never been there, didn't reside there, but last year when I received my first booster the paharmacist entered my address as a town in Kentucky. 

Her eyes widened and she said, "Wow! That is jacked up! Should have never happened. Has fouled up everything in the system. This is serious."

I had caught the error and asked the pharmacist to enter my correct address, and they claimed they did. I even called the next day to confirm. They said it was taken care of.

Pharmacy tech said, "Obviously if they changed it, they didn't SAVE the changes. Serious stuff!"

I asked, "As in sue the pharmacy, serious?"

"Oh no-no-no. I can take care of this, but it sure is jacked up."

Now, I ask you, would YOU have chosen that terminology even if it WAS jacked up?

Perhaps, in my heading I should have said I've been innoculated or vaccinated instead of shot. See how words matter?

Hey, Teacher!

 There is something amazing about friendships that survive pandemics, long distance division, and the imminent arrival of a hurricane.

Dianna Graveman, Mary Menke, and I met through St. Louis Writer's Guild. Dianna, a fabulous writer/editor moved to Florida six years ago, and Mary also a fabulous writer, who lives in town, has been busy teaching and editing.

Dianna and I each developed anthologies for Publishing Syndicate and produced titles in the Not Your Mother's book collections. We've done book signings and presentations together at conferences and writing workshops. We are writers who write! 

Former teachers (grade levels from prekindergarten through college) and published writers, we all felt a strong connection.

When Dianna mentioned she was coming in town for a brief weekend stay, we reunited. The best part about seeing our dear friend (and how much weight she's lost) was being able to pick up right where we'd left off six years ago. Now that speaks to our close friendships despite absences and life's ups and downs. 

Schlafly's outdoor patio on a fall afternoon was the perfect place to gather, gab, and grab a bite. 

I have lost so many friends early in life, so I know how important it is to stay connected. I treasure these friends. 

Dianna's family had minimal hurricane damage and now we are all off in our own whirlwinds doing what we do best, writing, editing, living life's crazy ups and downs. 

How do  you foster friendships?  

Ups and downs

Life is fragile and precious, and I am feeling an abundance of emotions. I was going to post a photo of me with my late, best friend Sheila, who passed away on this day a few years ago. Our forty-six-year friendship began in Alaska when we were 19 year-old soldiers' wives and neighbors. 

I just reread old blog posts about us. I cannot bear to read about her last days of suffering side effects of brain cancer in remission. Suffice it to say we were best friends until the end, and the end came too soon. She would have loved my three great-grandsons. She loved all children, much as I do. The scarecrow is not one my great-grands. Liam is in school. So I will focus on my precious and precocious babies.

Yesterday, after a busy preschool morning and lunch, I took Alex and Charlie to the park.

The boys were convinced they would see Owen, a little boy their age who had befriended them last week. They'd chased one another up and down slides and all over for half an hour. They had so much fun, they talked about Owen for days.

When we arrived at the park yesterday, there were six little girls and one younger boy on the playground. I went to get Charlie from his carseat. He looked dejected. I asked, "What's wrong, buddy?" 

He replied, "I can't talk to you right now, Nana. I am too sad Owen is not here. I miss him so much."

I understood my little guy. I miss my dear friend Sheila who gave me years of friendship and happiness and a life line, via long distance letters, phone calls, and vacations when life got hectic. 

Those big Tinker Toy-type toys remind me not to cage myself into a sad, depressive state for too long.

Everyday has something to celebrate and be thankful for. FRIENDSHIPS are at the top of my list. If you read my blog, I consider you a blog FRIEND, and I thank you.

Is it an ending or beginning?

Summer is coming to an end, and fall is right around the bend.

Alex and Charlie had fun at the pool, but now it's time for back to school.

We are having excellent mornings learning in Pre K, and we go outside every day.

I packed away the water toys, beach towels, and pool. Then Mother Nature went off the deep end... and so much for COOL! 

Yesterday should have been 80 but was 97 degrees. The boys said, "Nana, Nana, water PLEASE?" 

They chalked the drive way, their trikes, legs, and knees! 

Which is your favorite season? And what is your reason?

A hero named Daniel

We met a man named Daniel on a cruise years ago. He and his wife were our table mates at dinner. He relayed a very emotional story about what happened to HIM on 9/11/01. 

He was a first responder at ground zero. He and his partner raced up many flights of steps to rescue people. Midway down he did something he  deeply regretted. He left his partner, something he was trained never to do. He continued down stairs and along the way found an elderly woman and carried her down many flights.

When his mental state of mind became fragile, his grandmother helped him along by telling him God put him in that place to save that woman's life. That is what helped saved him from alcholism and survivor's guilt. Daniel is a wonderful man, father, husband who was there and is now in a positive state of mind. I send him a message every year on this date letting him know he is in our thoughts and prayers. 

I DID NOT KNOW what TO DO, so I...

 In commemoration of all the lives lost on 9/11/01

The Feelings Flag by Linda O'Connell

published in Chicken Soup for the Soul The Spirit of America, 2016

I stood in my living room and cringed at the sight of the first plane hitting the first of the Twin Towers. I thought, what an horrific accident. I felt terrible for the people on that plane, and for those in the World Trade Center building. I did not realize that the horror had only just begun.

I turned on my car radio on my way to work and listened intently to the reports. Then, I heard that another plane had made impact.

I arrived at school a few minutes later. No one was quite sure what was going on. Teachers were asking one another, "Did you hear about the plane crashes in NY?"

The gravity of the situation -America was under attack- was like a punch in the gut. We all felt winded, worried, and wounded.

 My preschool classroom was in the lower level of an inner city middle school. What I remember most is the panicked young man in the hall who shouted at me, "America is at war!"

"Calm down," I said. "Don't jump to conclusions. Nobody knows for sure what's going on. This does not mean WAR."

They insisted they saw it on TV and that military jets were intercepting other planes.

I walked into my classroom, and watched as my students went about their school day, unaware of the attacks, I knew they were okay. My aide was capable, so I left her in charge.

I felt compelled to do something patriotic to relieve the mounting tension and confusion the middle school students were feeling, although I was not in charge of any of them. I cut
twelve- inch by two-inch strips of red, white and blue construction paper into strips, the kinds  kids use to create paper chains. I did not consult the principal or counselor. I acted on impulse. I visited each classroom and intruded on each classroom teacher. I asked each if might have a moment, then I said, "Nobody knows exactly what is going on. We've all heard rumors and news reports. It's a frightening time for all of us."

 I passed out strips of paper to the students and asked them to write what they were feeling at the moment. Any fears, any words— anything would be acceptable. Some asked about spelling, and some asked if they should sign it.

"If you want to," I said.

I collected more than 200 strips and rolled them into  loops, then I stapled them to the bulletin board in the cafeteria. I read an outpouring of emotional comments. "I am afraid." "I want to kick their behinds." "Bomb them." "Why did this happen?" "What now?" "I want to go home."

I posted one after another, row after row, until an American flag took shape. Some of the comments were laced with misspelled words and profanity; some were smeared with tears. I did not censor. I stapled every single one. I stood back and admired that "feelings flag".

At lunch I stood against the wall and observed teens and preteens, who were usually destructive with bulletin board displays, as they searched for their piece of that flag. I listened to them read their words aloud, owning their emotions, giving voice to their fears and frustrations, initiating conversations.

On that horrible day, when America came under attack, I didn't know if my actions would do any good. It just felt good to do something. My friend Tammy said,

'With that spontaneous action, you gave children a voice when no one knew what to say."

The bulletin board flag stayed up for more than  a week. Then the strips began disappearing as individuals claimed their sections... and their feelings.