Dedication

I know this entry is going to be long, but it needs to be said. Today I attended a teacher's meeting at which one staff member, a self-professed poet, shared a poem she had written in honor of a teacher who had greatly inspired and motivated her. She talked about her underprivileged, single-parent home; her bad neighborhood; and her lack of hope because of her gender, her race, and her circumstances. Then she described in detail a devoted teacher who took a special interest in her, encouraged her, spent time with her, befriended her, even loaned her money. She now has two masters degrees and attributes her success to this influential teacher. She ended by saying, "Most days, I feel like I can fly." I had heard her poem a couple years ago, but this time it really bothered me. The feeling ate at me all during the 2 1/2-hour ride home. I considered sending her an email, but remembering how many times my emails have caused problems in the past, I decided to simply post my "letter" here. I'm sure she'll never read it, but it's now out of my mind and off my chest, and I'll be able to sleep tonight.

Dear _____,

You certainly deserve to be proud of your accomplishments and achievements, and it is honorable that you recognize the influence of a special teacher. However, as I listened to you talk about your underprivileged, impoverished beginnings, I couldn’t help thinking of my father's homelife and school experiences – and I was left with several hypothetical questions to ask you about your own "underprivileged" life.

Were you born in a hospital, or in a log cabin that allowed snow to blow through the cracks in the logs? When you were ill, were you treated by a physician, or were you at the mercy of home remedies such as kerosene or skunk oil? Did you ever have a birthday cake, birthday presents, a Christmas tree, or Christmas presents? Did you grow up in the same town, or even the same part of the same town – or did you move from town to town, even out-of-state, as your family was evicted from its dwellings? Were you ever taken away from your family and put into a children's home? Did you have regular meals with nutritious food – or did you have to survive on what your family could grow during the summer and steal during the winter? Did you weigh 63 pounds at the age of 8, or was that your weight at 13-1/2? You mentioned that although your father was in another state, both of your parents were good people. So I’m fairly certain that you were not unwanted at birth (and left for dead because you were “blue”) or unloved or neglected by your parents. Did you experience verbal, emotional, and physical abuse at the hands of both parents, hatred from children and adults in the town, and contempt from school teachers who hated your vagabond, “hillbilly” family? Did you have new shoes to wear to school – or even used shoes – or did you go to school barefoot? Did you get school supplies at the beginning of each school year? Did you ever have a teacher whip you because, when your stubby pencil was too short to hold in your hand, you broke it apart and wrote with the bare lead? Did you get hot lunches at school, or did you go to school hungry and suffer all day until you could scrounge something when you got home? Did you attend the same school for several years, or did you change schools every few months as your family moved? Did you live in a real house – or did you ever live in an abandoned coal mine shaft, a windowless tool shed with a dirt floor, a cave, or a collapsed log cabin? Did you have running water and soap? Or did people avoid you because you were dirty and smelly? Did you have toys? Did you own books? Did you get dental care – did you own a toothbrush? Or were your teeth so decayed that by the time you were 16 they were removed and replaced with dentures – thanks to charity from the community? Did you ever have to walk along the railroad tracks picking up coal that had fallen off the train cars so that you could heat your home? During high school, did you ever work a midnight shift in a factory, go home and do chores on the farm, then go to school – only to be berated -- or worse -- by teachers when you fell asleep during class?

These were the circumstances in which my father grew up and attended school. He also had fond memories of a favorite teacher -- one that felt pity, rather than contempt, for him and who bought him a pair of shoes to cover his dirty, cold feet. My father never earned a college degree, though he was very intelligent. He did, however, graduate from high school – a huge accomplishment, given his circumstances – and he did serve his country in both the Army and the Navy. He later earned his private pilot’s license and co-owned his own small plane. His dream was to be a commercial airline pilot, but he abandoned that dream because of the time it would have taken away from his family. He worked over 30 years in a hot, dirty steel mill to provide for us. He beautified every home we lived in. He raised four healthy, intelligent children and was married to the same woman for 57 years before he passed from this life. He taught us industry, honesty, compassion, forgiveness, love of nature, service to others, respect for life, cleanliness, self-control, and a love for learning. His was the most impoverished, dysfunctional family I have ever heard of, yet he broke the cycle of abuse and poverty. And he did it without counseling, medication, or social services. He did it because he chose to – because he wanted to. He made a conscious decision to have a better life. He had no one encouraging him, pushing him, praising him, guiding him, or offering him incentives or rewards. He had no interventions, no tutoring, no free lunches, no exemptions, no supplemental services. Yet he succeeded. Because he had the desire within him to rise above his circumstances and make a better life for himself and his future family. Though he would willingly discuss his past when asked – often with moist eyes -- he never felt he was extraordinary. He considered his life a gift and his survival and success a blessing from God.

So forgive me if I don’t shed tears when you talk about being underprivileged because you were black, female, poor, and had an absent father. We Americans have become so pampered, so spoiled, and so accustomed to plenty, privilege, and entitlement that we have lost sight of what true poverty is. Dad would have thought himself a king to have had what you had – parents who loved him, warm clothes, caring teachers, regular meals. The world judges success by the number of zeros in your income and the number of letters after your name. My father never earned a degree and never rose above the middle class. But the distance he climbed from his destitute beginning to his noble ending was truly significant. Comparing his accomplishment to yours is like comparing a mountain to a foothill.

My father was a bona fide member of “the greatest generation” – and you know what? He really did fly. I miss you, Dad.

Summer Memories

Well, school has begun and that means that I am once again consumed with phone calls, grading, lessons, emails, and troubleshooting problems that seem to crop up daily. Most days I feel more like a customer service rep. than a teacher. The summer went by way too fast (as always) and I was feeling pretty bummed about all the summer goals I didn't get accomplished -- I didn't lose 25 pounds; I didn't get my basement cleaned; I didn't get my food storage organized and inventoried; I didn't get my family history pictures scanned and cataloged; I didn't read all the 2008 Ensigns; I didn't bike ride 200 miles; I didn't attend the temple four times; blah, blah, blah. So I decided to try to focus on what I did get accomplished. I substituted four Primary classes; I mounted all the unmounted ward library pictures; I taught seven temple prep. classes; I attended 5 or 6 grandchildren birthday parties; I cleaned my office; I got my car fixed; I drove Sarah to work lots of times; I went to the zoo with Sonia and the kids; I did go bike riding a couple times; I had surgery on my hand; I attended the temple two times; I read a book; and I spent time with my family. But of everything that happened this summer, the highlight had to be attending the Columbus Temple with John and Rachel as they were sealed for time and eternity. Both were very well-prepared, and the entire experience was absolutely beautiful. It couldn't have been more wonderful, even if we had been able to travel to the Washington Temple, where Rachel wanted to go. The photo above was taken on the temple grounds afterwards. It was very hot (in the 90s) that day, and very humid. But we didn't really care. It was an exhilarating, fulfilling, and very rewarding experience. Only one more daughter to go, and all of my children will have been either married or sealed in the temple. If I never lose 100 pounds or write a book, I will die feeling that I have accomplished a great work.

So, here it is, almost fall -- and a few things have changed for several family members. Nathan started his fourth year of college last week. He got my new sink installed and actually painted my bathroom for me. In the next day or so he will install our new medicine cabinet and replace the towel rods -- and that will have to suffice until next spring. But it is a huge improvement. Sonia (his wife) is starting a new massage therapist job a few nights a week. Amaryn turned a year old and started walking. Craig is now employed by a police department and hopes to get a full-time position in a few months. Emily is starting a new job tomorrow. Little Nathan turned 8 and will be baptized soon. Hannah turned 12 and entered Young Women. Christine's oldest 4 are back in school, and she is homeschooling two of the remaining four. Rachel lost over 90 pounds, got sealed to her husband, and got a new dachshund puppy. Sarah got her car fixed! Woohoo! Mark just began his third year of teaching Seminary. So now. . . although I am dreading another stressful school year, I know that there are many more memories to be made and that someday, I'll be writing in this blog, and wondering where the school year went.

You never know. . . .

Today was one of those days with more to do than time to do it in. I got off to a late start, and I had to meet Christine at Borders, and I didn't want her to have to wait for me because I knew she had to be home at a certain time, etc., so I was a little stressed. One of the things on my "to do" list was to stop at the grocery store and pick up a few things. I parked my car by the front door, but when I finished my shopping I was closer to the back door checkout. If I went through this register, that would mean walking clear up to the front of the parking lot to my car. But then I saw Sylvia at the back door checkout, so I figured it would be worth the walk. I frequently see Sylvia behind the register when I shop at this store, and I always enjoy going through her line. I don't really know Sylvia, and she doesn't know me. But she treats me like she does. I don't mean that she asks me how my kids are or what I'm doing over the weekend. I mean she shows me the same warmth and sincerity she would if she did know me. Her smile is genuine and her laugh is ready. But after all these years, I had never told Sylvia how much I appreciate her. So today I did. I told her how much I enjoy seeing her when I come into the store, how she is always so friendly and cheerful, and how I feel good being around her. The bag-boy standing next to her nodded in agreement, but Sylvia was flabbergasted. She almost recoiled at my words, slapped her hand to her chest, and said, "Me?" As I continued my words of praise and appreciation (and she continued checking out my groceries), she started to get a little emotional and said I was about to make her cry. Then she explained why. One day Sylvia had checked a lady through her line, and the transaction was basically finished except that the customer was digging out 3 cents in change. Meanwhile, Sylvia (in an effort to be industrious and efficient) had started checking through the man who was next in line. The woman was so offended and irate that she went directly to the manager and complained about Sylvia. Now, I don't know how long ago this happened, but it must have been recently enough that it was still on Sylvia's mind. So, my kind words were like balm to a wound for her. I was so grateful that I had spoken up, and I was also very humbled. I was humbled to have been the one to bring her such comfort. But I was also humbled to think that perhaps I had been an instrument of the Lord's in blessing the life of someone else. When I said my prayer over my toast this morning, I asked Heavenly Father to guide and direct me in what I do and say during the day. Maybe I was prompted to talk to Sylvia. If so, we were both blessed by it. It reminds me of a poem a dear friend once sent me. It's called "You Never Know":

You never know when someone
May catch a dream from you.
You never know when a little word
Or something you may do
May open up the windows
Of a mind that seeks the light.
The way you live may not matter at all,
But you never know -- it might.

And just in case it could be
That another's life, through you,
Might possibly change for the better
With a broader and brighter view,
It seems it might be worth a try
At pointing the way to the right.
Of course, it may not matter at all,
But then again -- it might.

So thank you, Sylvia. Thank you for being the kind of person you are. And thank you for helping to remind me that Heavenly Father is listening to my prayers over my morning toast.

That's my girl!

So, I had promised Christine that I would come watch her, Katie, and Beth run this community race at a metro-park near their house. This is something that Christine has wanted to do since last year, and she has been running almost daily to prepare for it. My car has been making an unpleasant clunking noise when I drive over bumps, holes, or cracks in the road, so I didn't want to drive it the 22 miles to her house (where we were meeting). I planned to take my husband's car, but his tires were low on air, so half an hour before I had to leave I asked Nathan if he would take the Buick to the gas station and fill the tires. Instead he tried to fill them with his little emergency mini-compressor, and by 4:30 only the two tires on the driver's side were finished. Since I could not drive a lopsided car, my only choice was to drive his car. I don't really like driving anyone else's car. I have very short legs and need to move the seat w-a-y up so that I can comfortably reach the pedals. This usually produces a strangulation effect with shoulder strap of the seat belt -- which it did. It had rained earlier today, and it was very humid, but I unfastened the seat belt long enough to be able to roll down the window and open the sun roof. Eventually, after much tugging, grunting, and grumbling I managed to get my body and clothing adjusted as well as possible and left the house just in time to get stuck in rush hour traffic. About halfway there, it started to rain -- for the second time today. By the time we were all in Christine's van and on the way to the park, it was pouring down with flashes of lightning in the distance. Since "they never cancel this race" and we were walled in by traffic, we continued onward. By the time we reached the park, the rain had subsided and the sun had returned -- but everything at the park was, of course, soaked. There were literally hundreds of people of all ages participating in this race, which comprised three simultaneous events. Some were track teams from various schools, but many were individual runners. The course was across grass, gravel, and dirt; across a field, uphill, through a woods, downhill, around the field again, back up the hill and down again -- 5 kilometers in all. Since it had just rained, not only was the ground wet and, in places, muddy, but the air was heavy and humid. Looking at the trees in the distance was like looking through fog. I was so proud of Christine for completing this event. What a wonderful accomplishment, and what a memory to share with her daughters! Afterwards, as she stood in line to get her T-shirt, I said, "I'll bet you're the only mother of eight who ran this race." She glanced around and kind of mumbled, "Yeah. . . I'm probably the only mother of eight here." Well done, Christine, well done.

You can do it . . . we can help??

My son, Nathan, has been "working on" our bathroom for about 3 years now. It's been a painfully slow process, but it's not entirely his fault. He has to work around his school schedule, his gaming schedule, his family responsibilities, the subtleties of his motivational levels, our supply of discretionary funds for the needed materials, and the alignment of the heavenly bodies. So, sometimes when he is ready to work, we are not ready to buy the supplies; and when we have money for supplies, he has finals, or...well, you get the idea. Well, he starts back to school on August 22nd, so he's been trying to make up for lost time. I finally sucked the necessary money out of our savings and went with him to Home Depot to buy the vanity and sink (I had purchased the faucet a year or so ago). I chose a sensibly-priced vanity and a moderately-priced sink to go with it. Unfortunately, the moderately-priced sink did not fit the sensibly-priced vanity, it only fit the more expensive model. Imagine that. So, we bought the vanity and sink and hauled them home in his van. Today, Nathan unhooked our old white-with-gold-flecks, 1950’s-style vanity/sink and carried it out to the trash. He had already purchased a new drain pipe of some sort that hooks up to the sink, and it was supposed to be a “universal” size, so everything was good-to-go. Except that the pipe wouldn’t fit the hole in the sink. He told the guy at Home Depot that it didn’t fit and was told, “It has to fit. It’s a universal size.” He tried to explain that it didn’t fit, and the guy just looked blankly at him and repeated, “It has to fit. It’s a universal size drain.” Nathan went back and tried again, and still couldn’t get it to fit. I guess it was designed for another universe or something. So this time Nathan went back to Home Depot and (this cracks me up just thinking about it) went to the display models of sinks, and unfastened the drain pipes from two different sinks. Then he took these two different-sized drain pipes (one of which was the type we had), went back to the wall where our chosen sink was hanging, and showed the guy that one drain fit and the other didn’t. I wish I could have been there to see the look on the guy’s face. He was incredulous. He said, “You took it apart?” Even with the visual aid, this guy was still not convinced and just said, "It should fit." Finally, after all this frustration, time, and gas, he happened to mention to Nathan that the faucet we bought should have come with some sort of fitting or adapter or molecular modifier that would make the pipe fit. And it did. And now it does. Our new vanity looks a lot like the one in the picture, only with two drawers instead of three and with a "California Onyx" (beige) sink. Of course, it will be a while before we can enjoy it in our bathroom. It is now my job to prime and paint the walls before the new vanity can be installed. Maybe I'll be able to afford a new mirror/cabinet by then. In the meantime, we have no bathroom sink and everything that was stored under or on top of the sink is in a laundry basket on the floor. I tried to get Nathan to explain to me why it's now my job to paint the bathroom and why, after 3 years, I am expected to do it in 2 or 3 days. I didn't get a satisfactory explanation, although he thought it made perfect sense. Maybe I'm in the wrong universe.

My grandbabies!

I don't have anything profound or entertaining to write about, but I haven't written for a while, so I'll just drop in and leave this picture here. I'm not sure anyone is really reading this anyway, but here it is. Yesterday, Sunday, we had our monthly extended family FHE. While we were all there, and before the men left for a stake priesthood meeting, I herded all the grandkids out to the back yard for a group picture. The last time I had a group grandchildren picture was 4 grandkids ago, so it was time for an update. The oldest, Katie, is 15-1/2 and counting the days until she can get her license. The youngest, Micah, will be 1 in November. There are currently 29 members in our family, so family gatherings are pretty crazy. All of us have pretty small homes, so family get-togethers are very "cozy." It has been so beautiful here lately -- sunny, low humidity, blue skies, fluffy white clouds. I have almost finished the yearly cleaning of my office in preparation for the new school year. But, that's about all I've accomplished. This has not been a very productive summer for me at all. My pain level has kept me down a lot, I'm afraid. But the wonderful thing is, my family doesn't care. I mean, my grandkids still think I'm the greatest person on earth, even if I can't walk very well. That is one thing I am so very grateful for -- my family makes me feel so loved. And sometimes I am not very lovable. They are all so forgiving, so gracious, and so affectionate. Yesterday during our FHE lesson, we were given sheets of paper with a family member's name on each page. We were supposed to write positive comments about that person on their page. Then every person got to take home their page of positive comments. It was interesting and heart-warming reading the comments my kids had written on mine. You'd think I was a Mormon Mother Theresa or something. At the bottom, my son had written a short, but interesting comment -- I knew exactly who had written it. So, at lunch today I said, "I noticed you wrote 'Mary Poppins' on my sheet." He said, "Well?? That kinda says it all, doesn't it? -- 'Practically perfect in every way'." I nearly choked on my drink, but I had to laugh. Practically perfect?? Far from it. But I am so thankful that my children see me that way. (*sigh*) This must be what heaven will be like -- only without the pain.

Dear Dawn Ann . . .

I have been scanning, labeling, and organizing some old photos that I inherited from my parents. It's a very tedious process, as I am trying to be as detailed and accurate as possible -- for posterity, of course. It has been at once gratifying and heart-wrenching. I have so many questions, and so many times I have wished I could ask Mom or Dad about a person, location, or event in a photo -- especially when information seems to conflict. But I can't ask them. So I have to use my best judgment. It's difficult being the oldest living member of my family. I'm not ready for this. I didn't pay close enough attention to what was going on around me when I was young. I don't remember enough.
Anyway, during the course of my preservation efforts, I came across this photo of a little girl -- one month shy of her third birthday -- sitting on a sofa with her baby brother. The little girl is me, and I had seen this picture many times before. But this time was different. This time I saw simply an innocent little girl with soft cheeks, shiny dark hair, and big brown eyes. She could have been one of my own daughters at that age -- or one of my granddaughters. I wished I could stroke her hair, kiss her little cheek, or give her a hug. I wanted to cuddle her, comfort her, protect her. I couldn't stop looking at her eyes -- what was she thinking? She seemed to be a million miles away. She had no idea of what lay ahead of her along life's journey. I knew. I knew where she was going to falter, stumble, and fall. I knew the crooked side paths she would wander down before she found her way back to the trail. I knew the joy and the sorrow that awaited her. I wished I could go back in time and warn her of things that were coming, prepare her, advise her, comfort her. Of course, she's only 3, so she wouldn't understand or remember what I would say, so I would need to write it down in a letter to be saved until she was about 10. What would I say?
Dear Dawn Ann,
---You don't know me, but I know you. You are such a cute little girl, and your mommy and daddy tell me that you are smart, too. Someday you will be all grown-up and have little girls of your own. I know exactly what you will have to go through before that day, though, so I would like to give you some words of advice to help you through the next 20 or 30 years. Keep this letter in a safe place and read it often. It will help you avoid some mistakes and help you make the most of your experiences. Here goes. . .
*** Your mommy may not cuddle you or kiss you as much as you would like her to, and you may be a grown-up before she tells you she loves you. But that doesn't mean she doesn't love you. Your mommy grew up in a very different kind of family. She didn't have much fun as a kid, and her own mommy and daddy didn't hug and kiss her very often. It is very hard for her to express her feelings, but that doesn't mean she doesn't have them. You need to help her learn how to do this. Cuddle with her, hug her, kiss her, tell her you love her. Maybe that will make it easier for her to be affectionate with you.
*** You are going to move several times during your childhood. It will be hard to make new friends every time you move. This is why you need to be close to your family. You have a baby brother right now, but someday you will have two sisters, too. Make sure that you love all of them and have fun with them and enjoy them. Make your brother and your sisters your best friends. That way, no matter where you move, you will be able to take your friends with you.
*** Don't worry about what the other kids at school think, or do, or say. Remember that you are special, and you are important, and you are good -- all by yourself. You don't need to prove anything to them just so that they will be your friends. Be nice to everyone, but don't worry if you don't get invited to sleepovers or birthday parties. Those things are not important at all.
*** Never swing another kid around by her feet.
*** When your older cousin asks you to go into the cornfield with him, just say "no."
*** Your mommy has always spent a lot of time helping her mommy and daddy. As your grandparents get older and more sick, she will need to spend even more time with them. She will need your help even more at home. Try to make her job easier. Clean the house for her or cook dinner for her when she is gone for hours helping your grandma and grandpa. She will be very tired sometimes, and she will need your help.
*** Pay attention to your family. You will enjoy spending time alone -- to read or write poetry or listen to your records -- but don't shut yourself off from your family too much. You are an important part of your family, and they need you. Don't get angry when your parents want you to play a board game or go for a ride in the country. Enjoy your family. Talk to them. Ask them questions. Be a good big sister.
*** Never sneak out with your friends in the middle of the night.
*** Never lie to your parents.
*** Keep a journal (that's like a diary). Write down the things you did during the day, dreams you had, places you went, games you played. Someday these little things will be incredibly important to you.
*** Do not leave nurse's training to get married. Any man who asks you to give up your education for him is a loser and not good enough for you.
*** When you get to be a teenager, spend lots of time with your grandparents. They will live right down the street from you, and you will be able to visit as often as you want. They will love having you there, so take advantage of it. Ask them LOTS of questions, and write down what they say. If your grandpa doesn't want to talk about his past, keep asking him until he tells you just to shut you up. When your grandma wants you to sit down on the bed beside her and look at antique post cards people have sent her over the years, just do it. Sit there as long as she wants you to sit there. Let her talk. Let her remember. Ask her questions. Forget about the dress you want to finish sewing at home or the date you need to get ready for. Those things will always be there -- she won't.
*** When you are about 13, you will take some classes to prepare you for baptism in the church your parents have been taking you to. When the minister gets frustrated because you keep asking questions that he can't answer, don't give up. Keep asking questions. If he can't answer them, find someone who can. By this time you will have "tried out" several religions and churches. Keep looking -- the right one is out there.
*** It is not necessary to always have a boyfriend.
*** It is not necessary to eat all the food on your plate just because it is on your plate.
*** Be happy with yourself the way you are. Don't worry about always trying to be like someone else. Just be yourself -- but be your best self.
*** Well, I hope this helps you, honey. I'm sure there is more I could say, but after all, you do need to make some mistakes on your own. Just stay close to your family. They are the most important people in your life -- in the world, actually. They will always be there for you -- be there for them, too. Now go grow up -- and find the joy in life. There is so much of it out there.