HAPPY NEW YEAR !

We have had a very good Christmas holiday. We have been so happy to be with all our
children and grandchildren. And we always receive the best of all presents from them that any parent/grandparent could receive. That is the joy we feel when we witness again what caring and thoughtful adults they have all become. Oh, and they are pretty silly and funny, too. But, then, they learned that from Dad/Grandpa, not from me.

It was also wonderful to be able to walk without a cane or any help this Christmas.
Other than an occasional Tylenol, the holidays are going completely unassisted medically. Praise the Lord for that.

So this afternoon, as I look forward to an exciting New Years Eve (pizza and pepsi), I am excited to see what 2011 has in store. There are always a few bumps in every road, and the family tripped along over a few in 2010. But, thankfully, it looks like things will smooth out nicely in 2011.

That is our prayer, for our family, and for one and all. I wish everyone loved one,
both family and friend, a smooth and bump free New Year!

I Hab a Code

A week or so ago I told you that Don had a terrible cold. Well, now his is gone, but he passed it on to me, of course. I am feeling perfectly miserable. One of my former students, Keith, used the line, "I had a code", or something like that on his Facebook page a while back, and it rang a bell. I remembered a poem from my teaching days that sounded very much like that. So today I looked for my old teaching days poetry books, and, sure enough, I found the poem by that title.

Back in the 1990's Anderson Area Reading Council would bring in a published author every year as a feature speaker at their annual Young Authors Conference. When I was president of the group, our featured authors were Carolyn Lesser and Larry Shles. They are a couple of former teachers who collaborated on several children's books. I purchased their poetry book called "The Knees Knock Again." The following is one of the poems from this book.


I Hab a Code

I hab a code id by dose
Ad I cad pway today.
Baby I cad pway tobow-woe.

I wand to wud ad jumb ad skib
But here I ab stuck id bed.
Stufd wid bedicine,
Yuk!

I hab a code id by dose
Ad I cad pway today,
Bud......
I ab GOIG to pway tobow-woe!



I would like to think that Keith learned this in my reading class, but I had Keith in class long before I met Carolyn and Larry, and bought their book. Keith probably
bought the book for his daughter!

Colds seem to be a favorite topic for children's poets. You have no doubt heard of
Shel Silverstein, whose absolutely nonsensical poetry delights children. Delighted them so much, in fact, that his books had a way of walking out of my classroom. I don't know how many I have bought in my life. I recently found copies at the Friends of the Library book sale, so I replenished my book shelf once again.
Here is Shel's contribution to cold-related poetry:


BAD COLD

This cold is too much for my shirtsleeve.
Go get me a Kleenex - and fast.
I sniffle and wheeze
And I'm ready to sneeze
And I don't know how long I can last.... (exactly how I feel)

Atchoo --- It's too wet for a Kleenex,
So bring me a handkerchief, quick.
It's - atchoo - no joke,
Now the handkerchief's soaked.
Hey, a dish towel just might do the trick.

Atchoo - it's too much for a bath towel.
There never has been such a cold.
I'll be better off
With that big tablecloth,
No - bring me the flag off the pole.

Atchoo - bring the clothes from the closet,
Atchaaa - get the sheets from the bed,
The drapes off the window,
The rugs off the floor
To soak up this cold in my head.

Atchoo - hurry down to the circus
An d ask if they'll lend you the tent.
You say they said yes?
Here it comes - Lord be blessed -
Here it is - Ah kachoooooo - there it went.


See, the longer he writes, the sillier he gets, and kids love it!
Anyway, now you know just how I am feeling.
I hope to see the family on Christmas - all well again.
In the meantime, stay away from our house. I don't want to pass this on to
anyone else but the circus tent!

A New Look At My Dad

Last night sister-in-law, Janie, called me looking for dates that are pertinent to our family history. She has misplaced her address book into which she has always recorded all important family information over the years, so she is frantically (if you could call anything that calm little Janie does as frantic) trying to make a new book. It is good that she is redoing the book, because the whole family ALWAYS calls Janie when in doubt of some statistic. She is a book-keeper-numbers kind of girl.

Anyway, today I ventured out to the storage to dig out all my mother and dad's papers that have been in the storage area since their deaths. I did manage to round up all the dates that Janie was wanting. (Now Don and I must try to organize all our records, too.) But, more importantly, I found a small envelope on which my mother had written "Mark's writing". Hm, I thought my mother was the writer. But, lo and behold, I have now discovered a new side of my father.

Most of the short writings (mostly poems) were religious in nature. My dad was a preacher's kid, and a choir director, so church and his faith were very important to
him. But I also found a very charming little poem that he had written to my mother on the occasion of their fifth wedding anniversary. I love it because it shows a side of my father that I rarely saw. I was, after all, the fifth child, born when my dad was in his forties. By then, having gone through a depression with little money, and having five children, he was always a pretty serious kind of guy. But, my mother must have loved his poem, too, for she had kept it safe the rest of her life.

So I here now publish my dad's charming little love poem to my mother on their fifth (wooden) anniversary on June 12, 1932. They were already parents of two sons.

ODE TO A COUPLE OF SPROUTS

For the first five years of living as one,
If you and the years have been good,
Protocal states any gifts that are brought,
Shall be made of nothing but wood.

The reason for this has never been plain,
Some say there are two schools of thinking.
It could be some fruit has been picked from the tree,
Or the roots into good soil are sinking.

Be that as it may, you should still keep in mind,
As you're sipping it up from your bowl,
Things of wood are often devoured by fire,
So keep your flame of love under control.

The question of questions, as we celebrate,
Is not so much could you or couldn't you,
But, if the power were yours to turn back the years,
Be honest now, "wood" you or "wooden" you?

Then when our trunks are warped and our limbs are bent,
And no leaves on your branches are seen,
Look at the saplings from the seeds dropped,
And think kindly of the scrubs ever "Green."

by Mark Edward Green
for Gladys Green

I don't know about those flames of love being under control, the third son was born the next spring.

The Hanging of the Greens

We've hung the wreath
of garland long.
Its circle is small;
its powers strong.
Ever circling
round and round,
bringing wishes
that peace may abound.
Everlasting, all winter long,
bringing hope that spring will return.
Ever showing that we care
that blessings be yours
in the coming year.
Ever embracing
like God's love on Earth.
Ever celebrating
His Son's birth.

Orienteering Life

Hey, you, with your GPS,
are you looking for a hidden cache?
Is it a kind of orienteering where
maps and compass do the steering?
Does it bring a joyful feeling
when the cache you are revealing?
Oh, wouldn't it be just the BEST
if life's goals could be GPS-ed?
Freedom, due north, thirty degrees,
or ten degrees east to whatever you please.
Head west to realize ambitions,
and south to lose all inhibitions.
Check the map to find Fulfillment
in the state of Strong Commitment.
Due north leads to true romance.
A jog to the west gives love a chance.
Heading east for many a mile,
will lead to a life of elegant style.
And a few miles south brings fame and wealth,
while heading back west will guarantee health.
But, how about values like honesty and trust?
Where do you acquire what's fair and just?
Won't you need compassion on your road
and perseverance to carry the load?
Where, oh GPS, is loyalty and honest sweat,
and the joy of many good friends, just met?
Turn around! Look back from where you roam.
You'll find it all with family and home.

A Cat's View of Thanksgiving

Our family had a terrific Thanksgiving, full of good food, love of family, and lots of laughs. But I am going to let the really good story teller of the family handle that description. I refer you to the link, Smithbites, the food blog hosted by our daughter-in-law, Debra. Debra and our son, Rod, were the very able hosts for our Thanksgiving celebration, as you can tell from their blog.

The various families present at our Thanksgiving are owners of quite a good number of cats. Debra and Rod, alone, have five cats living at their house. Considering Thanksgiving from a cat's point of view, I don't think they are are very thankful.
In the first place, I doubt there were cats present at that first Thanksgiving held by our Pilgrim fathers. History says that there might have been one cat on those boats bringing those pilgrims across the ocean. But, as hard as that first year in America treated those pilgrims, I wonder if that first cat survived. It wasn't until the 1700's that tamed cats are mentioned again in the Americas.

I know for a fact that Debra and Rod's five cats were not too enthralled with the crowd that invaded their household. Windy took up roost in a basket, trying to look as pretty as possible while still avoiding the possibility of being stepped on. Sparky stayed out of the way in a Scrabble game box lid. Rags just hid in the basement as usual. During dinner itself, they were all locked away in their basement cat room, much to their distress. I'm sure the smell of roasted turkey was wafting down the stairs.
and old, dry food was their only Thanksgiving treat.

Accompanying this blog entry you will see our cat, Frank, waiting patiently for his share of the feast. Alas, it wasn't going to happen. Immediately after this picture taking, he was confined in "Kitty Prison" in one of our bedrooms, where he spent most of the day. This was on Friday, when our children and their families gather at our house for "Leftovers Friday." The name of the celebration pretty much explains itself. Except that granddaughters, Lydia and Avery, did finish decorating our Christmas tree, as has been the custom for a few years now.

Frank never discovered the charm of the day. When he was finally released from prison, he spent a good amount of time smelling all the shoes in the room. Since all our children are cat owners, it must have given him many thoughts to ponder.
The thoughts made him so excited that he must have forgotten that he is an OLD cat, because he attempted to climb the Christmas tree. Either it was his excitement or the fact that Lydia was attempting to take his picture at the bottom of the tree.

Why, he even hissed at Lydia! Now this is a cat of limited vocabulary. He is a very old quiet cat, living in a household with old, sort of quiet people. He has a quiet purr which he employs while being cuddled in an old person's lap. He has a funny noise he makes when he carries a stuffed animal in his mouth. It must be some kind of ancient hunter's call.....I don't know. Then he has some cuss words that he utters when he is released from some place like a closet wherein he has accidently been locked! Ohhh, he can be one grouchy cat.

Anyway, while all the humans in the family had a perfectly wonderful holiday. the cats are delighted that things are returning to normal. Normal being that they pretty much get whatever THEY want.

I forgot to mention that the Cincinnati family have a cat who has taught himself how to unlatch the window and let himself outdoors. Daughter-in-law Elaine has a video of said cat caught in the act. Randy kept wondering why Elaine would get up in the mornings while he was showering and open the window, then go back to snuggling in her warm bed. (Insert picture in your mind of one wet, towel-clad husband shivering in the breezes while wife sleeps warmly in bed.) Randy was very irritated with Elaine until they discovered that the cat was opening the window.
Anyway, the cat was left in Cincinnati under the care of a cat sitter who came in daily to check. I hope that he wasn't able to figure out the lock that they put on the window. If he did, he may have had an especially interesting Thanksgiving.

Now, one cat in the family may have had a feast worthy of mention. Cheryl and Jon have the queen of all mousers, Ditto. Ditto goes outside in the mornings, runs to the field across the road, and HUNTS! Every day they find multiple dead mice lined up on their driveway. Now there is a cat who knows how to provide a perfect cat Thanksgiving feast.

Okay, Now I'm Really Angry

Did you notice that I have changed the title of my blog from the "New ABCs" to "Mining the Golden Years" ? Well, I have been through the alphabet three times, and maybe that is enough. And, as you will see, from this entry, my anger today made me think that perhaps I should and could address some issues important to a senior citizen, and to all citizens. Either that, or learn to laugh at our Senior foibles.

Today's blog was spurred on by my reading an editorial in today's Herald/Bulletin.
It was another attack on our Anderson schools. It was written by a John Hughes of Chesterfield, and is titled, "Bring in the State for the Betterment of Students."
Now, Mr. Hughes does make some valid points. But near the end of his letter he states, "I read recently somewhere that teachers are considered the bottom of the barrel for college grads."
I refer you, dear reader, to www.theheraldbulletin.com, Friday, November 19, the editorial page.

I was so angry. It took me barely two minutes to get the computer fired up, and to start writing my own letter to the editor in defense of teachers. It took me even less time to mail the letter. I don't know that it will be published, or if it will do any good. But it made me feel better.

The picture accompanying this entry, are some of the very good teachers that I had the privilege of teaching with through the years. We were all together today, as we continue to work with books, kids, and people. We are all volunteering our time with the "Friends of Anderson Public Library." Now that's the kind of people that teachers are.

The following is a copy of my letter:

Okay, now I'm really angry. I just read the latest editorial attacking teachers and their ability to teach - calling them the "Bottom of the barrel!" I know many teachers. I taught for nearly thirty years. I am married to a retired educator. The "bottom of the Barrel" we are not.

I remember the hours I spent at my job. I remember the work I took home and finished every evening. I remember days when a fifteen minute break was impossible, and I ate my lunch in twenty minutes. I remember applying band-aids, comforting hurt feelings, calming fears, confronting anger, trying to instill some manners and values where none had been taught at home. I remember my fellow teachers, some not so good, but most of them tireless workers who had the best interest of students at heart.

The writer's words are like daggers in my heart. I never took a class on a field trip, when, at the end of the day, the exhausted parent chaperones did not say to me, "Thanks for all you do. I really don't know how you do it." But then, those were parents who cared, who took the time to teach their children manners and values. They took the time to be involved in their children's lives, to spend time at school involved in education.

I lived through all the so-called "educational movements, reforms, and improvements".
I witnessed the teachers' union go from gaining much needed change to unreasonable demands, just like the industrial unions that have caused industries to flee to foreign countries. I watched many changes in superintendents - some who fought everything teachers requested, some who were union sympathetic, some who built big "super-sized" school buildings intended to save on utilities and administrators' salaries. And all research shows that small, neighborhood schools with small classes are the best learning environment for kids. They are also much more accessible for parents and families.

I lived through the time when the School Board changed from being a mayor-appointed board to an elected board. Now, it is true that there have been many highly qualified board members elected to our school board. But it is also true that there have been some who were not qualified, and came with very selfish agendas.

And then there are the lawmakers who are now trying to legislate us out of the mess we are in. Let us consider merit pay for teachers, and the fact that the merit is to be measured by standardized testing. We are living in a society that has now abandoned its children. Teen, unmarried mothers think it is "cute" to have a baby. Few parents feel it is necessary to marry or establish a family and home where children can be taught to respect teachers, elders, or authority. Am I wrong to feel that teachers need bonus pay to teach in schools with the lowest scores? Call it "combat pay", if you must. Be realistic! A teacher must deal with the raw material that he/she receives.

And now we have closed schools, pushed students into huge schools that are grossly over-crowded, where there are inadequate means for discipline, where police are necessary in the hallways and lunchrooms. It is no wonder that all those caring parents,who are most concerned with their child's education, are fleeing our school system in favor of some alternative.

True, this is a turbulent transitional year. And all the transition years are difficult. Things will settle down. AND there are some wonderful things happening in education right here in Anderson, right in the midst of all the turmoil. Mr. Finger wrote an editorial in defense of the arts in schools. Everyone should have the chance to witness Mrs. Finger as a teacher of music. Let us talk about an outstanding and dedicated educator. Mrs. Finger TEACHES, she demands respect and gets it, she changes lives, she causes many of her students to set out on a path to becoming outstanding citizens. She is just one of many.

While we are at it, let's talk about merit pay for parents. Let's determine their salary by the hours they spend with their children, by the way their children show up at school ready to respect the teachers and be educated. This job is the responsibility of our entire society, not just the schools! And I have never heard on outstanding citizen say, "I owe it all to a teacher who taught for the standardized test." It was alwalys that teacher who was allowed the time and luxury to foster a love for learning, an excitement for some subject matter, and gave the student opportunities to pursue those subjects for which he felt a passion.