The Gift

Back during another lifetime in the 1970s you would have found me on Friday night sitting in front of our family television….the one where the knob had fallen off and we had to resort to using needle-nosed pliers to change it…patiently waiting for my favorite television show to air. There I was – gazing up at the screen – watching a parade of commercials and happily munching on taco-flavored Doritos – then I would hear the theme song I can sing to this day and even if you won’t admit it, you can as well.

Here’s the story…of a lovely lady…who was bringing up three very lovely girls…All of them had hair of gold like their mother’s…the youngest one in curls.

Here’s the story…of a man named Brady…who was busy with three boys of his own…They were four men…living all together…yes, they were all alone.

I loved the Brady Bunch. They were different. They were not a cookie-cutter version of my very average family. Not everyone was related by blood, not everyone got along all the time, but there was a lot of love and acceptance. Take two families with former tragedy and throw in a dash of Alice and presto! An Instant American family I would have loved to be a part of.

Look around your classroom or neighborhood. We have more families with steps and halves and live-ins than ever before, and if you are like me you have often side-stepped an important facet of American History….our family history.

It’s easy to ignore these days, isn’t it?

We have students who have their fair share of tragedy….parents on drugs, in jail, molestations, mental illness, a different uncle in the house every week or so, physical violence…a plethora of mixed families that make the Brady Bunch-type family impossible to achieve, so I can understand why educators might be leery of asking children to examine their families, to answer the question why their families are important, and to decide how their family fits into the American quilt even with all the baggage that sometimes accompanies family life these days.

But, how can we ask students to connect to a bunch of folks discussed in the study of history that they’ve never heard of and will never meet unless they can connect to how they fit in….how their family fits into our society no matter the baggage and no matter the circumstances?

A brand new book has dropped into my lap that I think would serve as a great reminder that families come in all shapes and forms. A family doesn’t necessary have to be a group of people all related by biology….they have to have things in common and those things bind us together in love.

The book I’m talking about is called The Gift. Its author and illustrator, Karen Craft, just happens to be my dear sister. In The Gift she tells the true story of Baby Boy who came to live with a family who wanted a little boy very much. The book covers numerous themes from family love, overcoming tragedy, and even an honest look at what makes the concept of family what it is and to be more precise what makes the concept of a mother….a mother.

As the first page of the book states, “A Mama isn’t just someone that gives birth to you. She’s someone that sits with you when you’re sick, and doesn’t mind. She’s the one who bakes you cookies late into the night, when you forgot to tell her earlier. She will clap louder than anyone at your piano recital. She reads your favorite book to you over and over. And over. She really listens to you when you need to talk and when you’re scared she makes you feel safe. She teaches you to be polite and chew with your mouth closed. She’s the last person you see when she kisses you good night, and the first person you want to see in the morning. You know in your heart that she’s your Mother, you Mom, your Mama. She’s your gift and you are hers. Sometimes biology just isn’t so important after all.”

The Gift is a great book to open the door to discuss adoption with students of all ages, to discuss blended families, to discuss losing a family member, and to discuss how non-family members….our friends and neighbors….are important parts of our families as well.

Children will love the story details regarding Da, Mama, Sister Dear, and Baby Girl. The story even has its own version of Alice in the guise of Nanni-K who in reality happens to be my dear niece.

It is a great resource for your classroom library, a media center, or a home library. Students, young and old, will love The Gift as a read aloud as they make Mother’s Day cards and presents, and the book lends itself well to small group reading activities for older students.

Karen Craft’s illustrations are brought to life even in more exact detail by artist Meghan Branscomb from Mornin’ Glory Studios. As you can see from the story illustrations I’ve scattered through this post they are exceptional and make the story even more entertaining. I’m already thinking about making a few slides of the illustrations in enlarged detail to show to students as the book is read.

It’s a great book to purchase for your child or another child you know. With Mother’s Day around the corner it is also a perfect gift for your mother, mothers you know young and old, and even those motherly-types you have in your life. I have a few of those….and I know you do too.

Visit Karen Craft's website, Just Sharing a Story , to purchase your copy of The Gift.

The Shopping Trip...A Guest Post

Mother put this story to paper in May, 2003. Two months later she would take a severe turn and would enter a nursing home. While my sister and I had heard numerous stories of Mother’s days growing up in Canton, Georgia this is a particular story I had not heard before and kept it in a special place. I knew that I wanted to share it with Mother’s family at some point.

I really don’t know how I did it but I managed to read it aloud at Mother’s funeral. All of her sister/aunts were there except for Aunt Dee, the oldest. She had paved the way for Mother and had already arrived in Heaven.

The picture I have here is one of the last times Mom was able to be with all of the sisters Mom is in the red shirt, and right next to her is Aunt Dee. Aunt Nelle is next learning down, and in the back is Aunt Blanche while Aunt Claudine is wearing the pink jacket. The gentleman is their cousin.

Mother’s family is a classic southern family in that things are little mixed up....the result of a father and son marrying half-sisters. So, the aunts were really aunts but they were more my mother’s age than my grandfather’s. While Mom was very young they were aunts and as she got older she referred to them as sisters. They were all very special to Mother and they are very special to Dear Sister and I as well.

Today is Mother’s birthday. It is very hard not to have her here to celebrate with. Publishing her story here at History Is Elementary is the best I can do to fully remember her wonderful ability to share her memories. Here is my Mother’s story in her words:

The Shopping Trip

The same four aunts who had entertained me as a small child when I ‘d visit their home we all lovingly called “The Homeplace” were now all entertaining me once again, but in a different way. Once a year they all four went into the city of Atlanta to shop, and they had invited me to go with them.

How well I remember not being able to get enough sleep the night before and spending my money a jillion times----just hoping I’d have enough for all the ‘treasures’ I hoped to find. After a big breakfast, we’d all stand down on the main road waiting for the big “Smokey Mountain Trailways” bus we all rode so much since we didn’t have a car. My heart was beating a mile a minute as we saw Mr. Honney, the bus driver, coming around the curve and down to where we were waiting. Finally, he stopped, and we filed onto the bus one at a time, each of us giving Mr Honney a “Good Morning!” and a “How ya’ doing?” since he seemed like family to us.
We went on back to our seats that were covered in a velvet-like material all in red. I made sure I got by the window so I could see the old four-lane highway rolling by us as we went south towards Atlanta. The traffic was nothing like it is today some seventy years later.

Finally, we pulled into the bus station, home to many different buses with different places to go. We went inside the building where the waiting areas were and where we could borrow their bathrooms before starting our journey up Peachtree Street where all the best shops and shoe stores were located. My Aunt Dee, my oldest aunt, would always lean down and softly say to me, “Don’t sit down, and be sure to wash your hands when you finish.” Then she would drop a dime into the slot and the stall door would open.

When walking through the waiting area to get back outside we saw mamas and daddies and lots of soldier boys all seated on wooden benches and scattered all over the place. Some seemed to be on their way home and some probably going to God knows where. Everyone seemed on schedule as the loud speaker would say something and groups here and there would begin to move.

The aunts hurried me outside and we crossed first one street and then another before getting on the right side where there was a cement walkway all the way down in front of all these different shops. The blouse shop was a favorite, and so were a couple of shoe stores including Butlers and Bakers. It was at Bakers that I chose a pair of brown loafers with a space under the tongue up front where you put a shiney copper penney for decoration as my first purchase of the day. From there we continued walking happily down the street.

Aunt Dee found the long black coat she hoped she would and got it at a nice dress and coat shop. By now Aunt Blanche had found a real pretty green dress, and like me Aunt Nelle had bought shoes, BUT Aunt Claudine hadn’t found her treasure yet. The day was young, however, and she was bound to find it later.

By now everyone was beginning to get hungry so we took a vote and decided to eat at the five and ten cent store called Woolworths where they had a really nice place to eat. Later we could browse around the store and look for more treasures. The five of us would almost fall into the booth with all of our purchases, leaving them all in on booth, and us sitting together in the next one, with somebody at the end and seated in a chair.

We often ordered their really good chicken and dressing that came with mashed potatoes and gravy, green beans, cranberry sauce, a big, fat yeast roll with butter, and the best sweetened ice tea with a wedge of lemon stuck on the glass, OR we would order the big hamburger with all the trimmings like lettuce, tomato, and onion with a big handful of potato chips and pickle on the side. Forget about dessert…we’d have no room, but later on we might stop on the way back for an ice cream half-way up the street at a little honest-to-goodness little ice cream shop with tables covered with red and white checkered tablecloths and painted white chairs. The only problem was making up our minds regarding the flavor we wanted because there were several available. I always settled for choclate while Aunt Dee usually chose peach. Blanch, Claudine and Nelle always chose strawberry which looked quite tasty too.

Before we left Woolworths we always looked around for a bargain and I would always give the post card rack a turn or two. I’d stop at one of a pretty Atlanta mansion with different flowers out front, and choose one for Mama. Since Daddy was a big fan of the Atlanta Crackers, I would get him a card with a baseball player on the front.

I enjoyed reading comic books and for a dime I picked up an issue of Archie with a picture of him and his girlfriend, Veronica, on the front. I usually picked up the latest issue of Andy ( the Panda) too.

Walking back up the street we shopped some more and revisited a shop where I had picked out a baby blue sweater set earlier, and here Aunt Claudine finally found her treasure. She bought a pretty solid green slip-over with a floral sweater to match. Later my mom said I had made a wise choice with my sweater purchase and I wore it many times. Aunt Claudine wore hers as well.

We were all so tired out when we finally got back to the bus station and boarded the big old bus. We’d be very quiet all the way back up the old four-lane that led us out of Atlanta, through Canton, and to the outskirts of town. We all usually went to sleep just about the whole way home.

All those shopping trips with my aunts were so much fun, and gave me a lifetime filled with precious memories with them treating me like the little sister back then, and they still do, but I tell them I am catching up and in a hurry since I am now 70.

My life has been so blessed and filled with so much love from these ‘young’ ladies.

My cup does runneth over.

Mother's Chronicles

Yesterday, I shared with you my sister’s tribute to our mother where she advises that Mother chronicled much of our lives in spiral notesbooks and on calendars. I wanted to share this with you a little and to document the precious treasure she left our families. You see, Mom didn’t just write down every deal of my life and my sister. She also added in our husbands when they came along and of course she recorded every minute she spent with our children.

Here is one entry regarding my son and his 7th birthday.

August 21, 1992 7 years old $38.87 (the amount Mom spent for his birthday)
Found a cute puppy dog card. Blank inside. Front had three cute puppies on it and inside I wrote “You are so special to me and I love you so much.” I put a $5 bill inside card…mailed it before his birthday, so he would get it before the 21st.

Got him a pair of jeans, Rustler “Wrangler” brand from K-Mart size 10 regular-----and a Bugle Boy shirt from Belk in a royal blue color with different Bugle Boy “sayings” on front of shirt----short sleeves

Also at K-Mart…found him a remote big wheel truck on sale! Battery toy truck with big wheels and a hand held remote to press buttons to make truck go forward, reverse and turns, and lights on front that come on.

The reason why Mother always recorded how much she spent was she was a stickler on being equal and fair. If she spent thirty-eight dollars on one she would make sure she spent the same amount on the other kids. It was maddening for all of us but it was so totally Mother.

Her notes when on to say:

Hadn’t got K. (Dear Sister’s daughter) nothing in real long time, so I found her a little denim draw-string purse. It was light blue with a row of eyelet trim around the bottom, and four satin flower buds ( 2 orchid/2 pink).

Mother continues:

M. (my son) will start to school August 24. K. will go into the third grade while M. will start the second grade. God willing M. will have a little brother or sister this time next year! (I was pregnant with Dear Daughter)

A folded piece of paper in this same birthday journal tells me that on Mother’s Day, 1993 we had the following meal at Mother's-----

MeatLoaf, Mashed Potatoes, Butter Peas, Steamed Squash with carrotts and onions, orange congealed salad with fruit, Corn Bread squares, hot homemade biscuits, sliced tomatoes, cucumbers, and radishes and finally, Sour Cream Poundcake. Mother also included a note that it was my daughter’s first Mother’s Day with us.

In an entry for July 11, 1993, Dear Husband’s birthday Mother included this bit of information that I should have in a baby book for Dear Daughter, but don’t……

R. is growing. She can flip over from her stomach to her back. She coos and smiles and was so good.

And not to leave out my son Mother added:

M. got in the pool and showed me how well he swims----I’m so thankful he can.

Yes, sad times are detailed as well:

Christmas, 1987
Such a sad and mixed up time!
I was sick. Sooooooo sick. Mentally as well as physically.

Yes, it was a crazy mixed up time.

Mother always worried about others and never wanted to be burden to anyone. Her writing dwindled while she was in the nursing home, however, every now and then it would rally. In the last spiral notebook she had written a letter that was never mailed......I'll stop this post by providing the ending to her letter. It's a fitting way to end this post with the last lines Mother ever wrote:

I had better stop for now.

I love you and may God bless you.

A Most Excellent Remembrance of Mother

My mother’s birthday will be Wednesday. As some of you may know she left us very quietly on July 15th. Many of you have been kind as I’ve used this site to post many personal memories of her. I know that you will understand as I devote the next three days to remembering her and letting you know a little bit more about someone who influenced my life so much. The picture featured here is Mother with Dear Sister's daughter.

The following piece of writing was written by my sister at the time our mother passed way. This piece was read at Mother’s funeral by my pastor. Dear Sister sent it to me in advance before the funeral. After I read it for the first time I explained to Dear Sister that I rarely award a student with a high A in writing because writing is never finished. A piece of writing can always be corrected…altered…revised in some way. It can always be improved. However, Dear Sister captured the essence of who our Mother was so intently that I told her I would give it my highest accolade…a well deserved “MOST EXCELLENT” and a numerical one hundred. Here are Dear Sister’s words….

If Mother was anything, she was CARING. She CARED about everything, and most things too much. She cared about family and friends, and stray animals, and strangers in need, and people in the news.

She never forgot to send you a card, or telephone to let people know she remembered their special occaision. If you were sick or experiencing a hospital stay you could count on a card from Geri. She was forever finding things in magazines or the paper that she thought you might need or find interesting. She took care in cutting it out, writing a note on it and mailing it to us.

She loved to cook. She loved to write. She would sit at the kitchen table for hours on end and write letters and stories. Mother had written down every memory growing up around Mt. Carmel and Canton. She had penpals and loved to swap information on their different lifestyles and countries. She had friends…real friends. They took each other to lunch on their birthday. Mother’s favorite place was the Picadilly at Greenbriar Mall. A stuffed green pepper and a piece of pie and she was happy.

She was an organizational icon. As far back as I can remember, she provided you with something you needed to know. Family and friends anniversaries, births and deaths, graduations, when someone called her and when she returned the call (and what time), whether it rained or the sun was shining on a particular day…..everything went on Mother’s calendars and in her spiral notebooks. And just for a point of reference----today if we needed to know what our family had for dinner on Wednesday, June 4, 1968---just check the calendar. It’ll be there…and you’ll find it because she saved each and every calendar and notebook. [Elementaryhistoryteacher] and I have snapshots of our life history detailed in these calendars and notebooks.

Was Mother a packrat? She said no, she was a gatherer of treasures. Every kindness, every gesture, every gift and momento was saved. And true to her organizational icon standard, you know it was tagged with who the sender was, the occaision, AND the date. Laundry markers were purchased regularly at our house growing up.

Mother wasn’t a rich person. She wasn’t a materialistic person, but she was one of the wealthiest women I knew. She was wealthy in the sense that she had all she required to live a wonderful life. She thought herself so blessed to have the family and friends she had.
What she never really realized is how blessed we were to have her touch our lives.

You can read about my thoughts on family bibles and all about Mother's Bible here.

Tomorrow I’m going to share with you a few pages from one of those spiral notebooks, and on Wednesday, Mother’s actual birthday, I will be presenting one of HER stories here for you to enjoy.

I'm Not Trying to be the Grinch...Really

There is no Christmas tree at my house this year. There is no baking, there is no caroling, there is no deck the halls, or fa-la-la. I have been home all week until today….no shopping, no lunches out, no nothing. Well, some writing was done here on my diversion from housework and lesson planning. I did do a bit of shopping today, but only because it has gotten to be the last possible minute and even the Grinch had a heart in the end.

My family has been very supportive of my decision to not unpack Christmas and drag it about the house. It’s just not in me. The sheer thought of having to make Christmas is simply too overwhelming this year. I think I’ve finally reached the apex of my grieving and folks simply need to let me be. No more fending and fighting it off…..I need to wallow and flop about in it. I need to be messy with it and let it ooze from my pores.

When my father-in-law reacted with surprise and shock as we discussed our “no tree” Christmas I joked and told him I was attempting to revive the custom of mourning which of course, used to dictate what some could and couldn’t do for up to a year or more. No, I’m not going to do anything to that extreme, but I need a quiet Christmas.

If you are new to this blog then you may be unaware that my mother passed away after a very lengthy illness on July 15th. I posted about her here, here, here, and here. Many of you went out of your way to console me and believe me I was touched. This blog has saved my sanity more times than I can count. The week following Thanksgiving Dear Sister lost her mother-in-law. Can you imagine….loosing your mother and your mother-in-law within four months of each other? I guess you could say Dear Sister’s mother-in-law’s funeral sent my grief to the top of a pot ready to be skimmed. I’m attempting to skim as fast as I can but sometimes…..

I write to cope…Dear Sister makes the loveliest mongrammed purses you’d ever want to see (a picture will be forthcoming soon) and works practically 24/7 as her coping mechanism. Dear brother-in-law is just beginning the process.

Once again this past week a reader, a fellow educator, contacted me and wanted to send something my way. I had no idea what she wanted to send me. Here is what my wonderful colleage, my fellow blogosphere citizen, my lovely friend, Butterfly Angel, sent to me:

Dear EHT,
I remembered that you suffered the loss of your mother and I wanted you to know that I hadn’t forgotten. The attachment was given to me when my dad passed away two years ago, December 19th. He had Parkinson’s disease. I understand what you are or might be going through at this time of year. I am thankful that we have ‘met’ and it is a joy to know that the Internet can be used for good. God works in mysterious ways and I am glad He brought us together.

Butterfly Angel, thank you for your gift, and I agree…the Internet can be used for good.

If you know someone who has lost a loved one and might be having a difficult time this year please forward this poem to them.

My First Christmas in Heaven

I see the countless Christmas trees around the world below
With tiny lights, like heaven’s stars reflecting on the snow.

The sight is so spectacular please wipe away the tears
For I am spending Christmas with Jesus Christ this year.

I hear the many songs that people hold so dear
But the sound can’t compare with the Christmas choir up here.

I have no words to tell you the joy their voices bring,
For it is beyond description to hear the angels sing.

I know how much you miss me; I see your tortured heart
But I am not so far away, we really aren’t apart.

So rejoice for me my loved ones, you know I hold you dear
And be glad I’m spending Christmas with Jesus Christ this year.

I sent you each a special gift from my heavenly home above.

I sent you each a memory of my all undying love.

After all, love is a gift more precious than ingots made of gold,
For I can’t count the blessings or love he has for you.

So have a merry Christmas and wipe away that tear.

Remember I am spending Christmas with Jesus Christ this year

(Author unknown)

Coincidence? I Think Not!

During the four years my mother spent in a nursing home my sister and I were not her only visitors. There was a core of lovely ladies who regularly came to spend a few minutes or they sent her cards and letters. They are all so very special to my sister and I…. now that Mom is gone.

One very nice lady in particular was from my Mom’s hometown and they had gone to school together. Later on in life they both found themselves living in the suburbs of Atlanta, but rarely communicated. Later, after my parents divorce they both discovered they lived in the same small town south of Atlanta. They spoke often on the phone and visited some.

After she went into the nursing home Mom’s friend, Nina, would pop in early on Saturday or Sunday mornings and attempt to cajole Mom into eating something. Sometimes I would come in and catch Nina standing by Mom’s bed holding her hand, or attempting to cheer her up in some way. In fact, she was Mother’s first visitor in the nursing home and was one of the last friends to see Mother alive. She was a dear, dear friend to be so loyal and to come by as often as she did. Like me, she often left Mom’s room in tears remembering the vibrant lady my mother once was.

Nina was unable to make it to the funeral home after Mom passed. Many of Mom’s highschool friends deluged my sister and I with Nina’s apologies. Her house had just sold and the closing simply couldn’t be rearranged. She was afraid the other party would back out. My sister and I understood. A few days after the funeral she called to apologize directly to me and I told her she had already done above and beyond what she was supposed to. She had helped Mother while she was alive and that meant so much to Sister Dear and I.

Nina and I continued to talk for a bit. She was concerned about finding a new house. She and her husband had little time before the new owner took possession, and they weren’t looking forward to the move. We spoke of the funeral and how all three of Mother’s grandchildren had taken part in the service. I spoke of my in-laws telling Nina they were in Tennessee when Mother left us and for many different reasons they couldn’t get home for the service. As I told Nina how wonderful my in-laws are she suddenly made a connection between my last name and the name I was calling my father-in-law by. She said, “Is your father-in-law ……?” I told her yes, and she explained that she had worked with my husband’s father for several years before she retired.

We both decided it was indeed a small world, but is it?

The past is chock-full of different types of coincidences.

During the production of The Wizard of Oz the costume department purchased many of the articles of clothing used in the movie from second-hand stores. At some point it was discovered that the jacket purchased for Professor Marvel had indeed belonged to L. Frank Baum, the author of the book the movie is based on.

Thomas Jefferson and John Adams both died within hours of each other on July 4, 1826, the fiftieth anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence.

The 1519 arrival in Mexico of Hernan Cortes precisely matched a prediction by the Mayan Calendar that a pale-faced god named Quetzalcoatl would return and claim Tenochtitlan.

Two different Umbertos were shot dead in Italy on July 29, 1900. The first Umberto was Umberto I, the King of Italy. The second was a restaurant owner in the city of Monza. That is coincidence enough, however, both men favored each other in looks and both had wives with the same first name. The King’s coronation and the opening of the restaurant occurred on the same day. And……I certainly don’t want to leave out the fact that King Umberto had dinner in the other Umberto’s restaurant the night before the King was assassinated. The real kicker? The restaurant owning Umberto was also shot dead on the same day.

Harriet Tubman, the mother of the fight against slavery died in 1913. That same year the lady who would become a symbol of the struggle for civil rights was born. Her name? Rosa Parks.

Sometimes in history we find unexplained repetition regarding numbers. Benjamin Franklin was born on the 17th, including Franklin his parents had 17 children, Franklin ran away on the 17th, and he died on the 17th.

Even nature has coincidences. As we gaze upward at night we always see the same image of the moon. Actually, the moon rotates and revolves around the Earth. Amazingly it does both at the same speed. The same side of the moon is always in synch with the Earth. A random occurrence? Hmmmm…..

Search the web and you can find all sorts of coincidences. Some revolve around the year 1066 and the D-Day invasion of Normandy in 1944. There are coincidences involving 9/11 as well as the over-referred to coincidences between the assassination of JFK and Abraham Lincoln. There are even several coincidences involving NASA.

There are many theories to explain strange relationships and occurrences throughout history. Some theories take on wild explanations involving conspiracies. Littlewood’s Law explains coincidence by stating that if the sample size is large enough anything can happen and on the average one can expect a miracle at least once a month. If that’s true then Littlewood owes me a few.

One particular theory is Synchronicity propsed primarily by Carl Jung. Wikipedia states this theory involves “temporally coincident occurrences of acasual events.” Huh? What that means is the human mind finds meaning and significance where there is none. These coincidences occur because of a strong need in the individual to make connections.

Many people have read Jung’s book titled Synchronicity. On the cover of their 1983 album, Synchronicity, The Police refer to Jung’s book. I still have the album which shows Sting reading a copy of Jung’s book and different images of actual text from the book appear on the front as well as the back cover.

Another theorist, Arthur Koestler, “attempts to link Quantum Mechanics with neutrinos and their interactions with time” per Wikipedia. Again, my reaction is…..Huh? Apparently a character in the movie V For Vendetta is seen reading Koestler’s book, The Roots of Coincidence. Another book by Koestler, The Ghost in the Machine, uses a phrase by British philosopher Gilbert Ryles as the title. Koestler felt “as the human brain has grown, it has built upon earlier more primitive brain structures and that these are ghosts….” So coincidences are actually imprints from an earlier time or memory? I guess that would explain why another album by The Police is named Ghost in the Machine, huh?

Albert Einstein, a very learned man well versed in Physics is quoted as saying, “Coincidence is God’s way of remaining anonymous.” I agree with my friend Albert. As a Christian I cannot believe something happens simply because of randomness. I also have a hard time believing that all coincidences occur simply because I create meaning for them, or that they occur because man has a collective conscience, an imprint from earlier times a la Koestler? Nope, I don’t buy it.

When the movie Magnolia was finally was released to pay-per-view I watched portions of it. I didn’t really like it. The characters had too many problems, and I found it very depressing. However, one line in the movie touched me. One of the characters stated, “We may be through with history, but the past ain’t through with us.”

Periodically in your life there are people or people those people know that reappear every so often in your life to impact it in some way. Sometimes you realize it. Sometimes you have no idea. These random acts are not random at all. A higher power is at work in my view.

It would make sense of course that from this point on my sister and I might hear from Mom’s friend Nina through a Christmas card or occaisional note. However, a higher power had a different plan.

Today, nearly a month after my conversation with Nina Sister Dear called. She said, “I have to tell you something because only you would think this is strange.”

“Okay, hit me with your best shot,” I said.

Sister Dear proceeded to tell me about a house in a town outside of Atlanta that her husband kept driving by. The house had a ‘for sale by owner’ sign in the yard. This is not the town where my sister lives. In fact, it is several miles away from their home, but my brother-in-law is there periodically because he has family there. He finally stopped at this house and gave the elderly owners his business card and told them when they were ready for a real estate agent he was their man. He checked back with them a couple of times and finally they gave him the listing.

This morning my full time brother-in-law, part-time real estate agent showed this particular house to another “retired” couple. They loved the house and decided to buy it. It seems they had already sold their house and were getting anxious to find a home they liked. Brother-in-law not only will act as the seller’s agent but will also be the buyer’s agent as well. A double whammy as it were!

Guess who the buyers are? You guessed it…Mother’s dear friend, Nina and her husband. During their discussion Brother-in-law’s last name made a connection in Nina’s brain and she asked if he was married to my sister. He confirmed it and everyone was simply shocked.

Well, there was only one thing I could say to Sister Dear. “It was Mother, Sister Dear,” I said. “She had a hand in this. She must have put a bug in the Big Guy’s ear.”

Sister Dear said, “You know, I thought the same thing.”

As I hung up the phone I softy said to the air around me, “Thank you, Mother. I love you!"

The Human Kind Revisited

Thank you to everyone who posted after my first acknowledgment found here. I really appreciate it.

NYC Educator at NYC Educator apologized for being late with his sentiments. Dear, we may be from opposite ends of the east coast, but showing concern for someone is what matters….not the timing. Thanks. Ditto to Janet at the The Art of Getting By. I agree, life is what happens when you are making other plans.

Chance over at The Sapient Sutler left me some very appropriate lyrics from Bob Dylan. Thanks!

Dennis over at From the Trenches of Public Ed. gave me a link and expressed concern. He also confided he is facing his own parent’s journey with Alzheimers. My step-grandmother had it, and currently I have an uncle who is living with it. I’m sorry…..

Ms. Cornelius over at A Shrewdness of Apes must be an absolute God-send at her school if she exhibits one-eighth the amount of caring she shows any of us when we have an emotional upheaval. She has been more than supportive by posting about my situation and even calling me a Steel Magnolia. I don’t know about that, but I appreciate it.

Kontan from Kontan's Place, is someone I can always count on for support when I need it most. Thanks!

Bellezza from Never Cease to Learn, a new visitor, felt compelled to comment regarding my comments concerning Mom’s Bible. Welcome, Beleeza! I can’t wait to visit you, and thanks for your comments.

And finally… and apology of sorts. I want to say thank you to the person who nominated my post “July 4, 1776, An Imagi-Holiday” to the History Carnival sometime during the week of July 17th. I also want to apologize to the many, many folks who dropped by to read the post and instead were subjected to an arrogant attempt by a reader to put me in my place. My response to the person, someone who had never commented here before, explains the situation far better than I can here. You can see the post and comments here. I was unaware that the post was in the carnival and the tone of the comments just really set me off considering what I had gone through that day. In defense of the person who commented it is very possible that he linked to me through the carnival and would not have been aware of my situation. At any rate……I welcome comments, even comments that call me a terrible teacher and call me pathetic, but I do reserve the right to respond or not. :)

A Few Quiet Mornings Left

It’s a quiet morning here except for the sound of the washing machine and the steady stream of “fair and balanced news” coming from the Middle East emitting from my bedroom television.

Both kidlets plus one friend are still asleep, and hubby left for his business an hour ago. I have a few, very few, precious mornings like this left before I am required to report to my campus for preplanning.

Students report to school next Friday, August 4th, for their first day of school. Yikes! This means my preplanning begins next Monday. Double yikes!

My classroom is a wreck. Every cabinet, bookshelf, desk, table, chartstand, and chair will have to return to its appropriate spot as everything was shoved to one side back in June for carpet cleaning. This was a good thing since two of my precious ones took to throwing up on my carpet last year. I have avoided the spots ever since.

My school was the recipient of an e-rate grant this summer so our televisions have been upgraded, a telephone system has been installed, a new bell system, and we now have cameras in our hallways and out side our building. Fantastic! However, my television was moved from one corner to the opposite one. I’m hoping the wiring is still there to use the tv as a computer monitor when I need to do a power point or show some other kind of image.

I guess I need to corral my school’s computer guru and pinpoint him regarding some of my personal issues. I want to make sure that I can still show clips of videos from United Streaming so that the picture is the right size and the sound comes through. I want to use a classroom blog with my writing students so they can use the comment feature to peer analyze and critique. Our filters are so strong any type of web journal simply won’t come through without the guru approving the URL.

Our Leadership meeting was yesterday. It was nice to get back with everyone and I had much love and support from my colleagues due to my recent loss.

I still have scads of thank-yous to write. Mother would kill me if she knew I still had not gotten to this. She was always very prompt as a fine Southern lady should be. I still have a few to do from my world of blog, and I will.

Now that it is time to become a teacher again I will start my ever expanding “TO DO LIST” and all of those people who need to be thanked will be entered upon the list along with things like “finish regions power point”, “copy units for Connie”, “complete team agenda for meeting”, etc.

One of the best feelings in the world is to cross an item off your “TO DO LIST” and make it a “TA-DAH!”…..something finished….something accomplished…..something earned.

I want to get back to normal, but normal has changed. I’m still in the “TO DO” stage with all that has occurred, and that’s ok.

It’s going to take some time to get normal to feel right again and turn all of this around from a “TO DO” to a “TA-DAH”, but I will do it….in time.

Bibles...Recorded History

Bibles are wonderful things, of course. They guide some of us in our religious lives. They provide a history for the Hebrew people, the beginnings of the Christian church, as well as document other groups of people thriving in ancient times. The Bible is one of the world’s best works of literature. Bibles also become very personal to the owner as they usually contain information regarding the history of the owner, or series of owners, in some cases. By examining someone’s Bible you can determine past addresses, important dates within a family, and particular passages that guided the owner. Tucked between the pages you can discover items that the owner held dear and precious.

Most people cannot bring themselves to throw or give a Bible away. They are valuable objects, and the fact that some distant relative took the time to record family births, deaths, and marriages within the front and back pages make the book even more dear. I have several that belonged to my grandfather and now two more have been added to my collection.

In short…Bibles give us a compass for our future while cementing our feet in our past. There is no way to forget your family’s past if you have a family Bible.

During the course of the weekend my sister and I hurriedly ransacked our Rubbermaid containers labeled ‘mother’ that we had packed up, divided among us, and stored at our respective homes almost four years ago as mother left her apartment for the nursing home. We refused to get rid of anything in case she asked for it. I just couldn’t stand the thought of her sweet face looking up from her bed and asking, “Hon, where’s that pansy writing paper you gave me three years ago for Mother’s Day? I want to write a letter.” Or, even worse, “Sweetie, I’m tired of looking at that crystal candy dish. I want the one Sara and Fauscett gave me….you know, the one that used to sit on the coffee table at Red Oak.” I simply didn’t want to have to say she no longer owned something so between my sister and I everything was stored.

Mother’s casket was closed for the majority of the visitation period at her request. Therefore, sister and I wanted to have as many pictures of mother as possible set out around the two rooms we were given. We wanted to put out pictures of her with us, with my dad (even though they were divorced), with her family, as a child, and with her friends. Between the two of us we did really well. There were pictures everywhere and many of mother’s highschool friends had a great time trying to figure out who was who in some of them. After many years of sickness it was great therapy for all of us to be surrounded by images of the Geri we all all remember whether we remembered her as sister, wife, mother, aunt, cousin, or friend.

One of the things I came across as I hurriedly grabbed pictures was Mother’s Bible. She had used two for several years. After her father’s death in 1984 she had begun using The Living Bible that my sister and I had given our grandfather as a gift in 1977. His writing is all over the inside covers, passages are underlined, and an occaisional slip of paper with his handwriting can be found between the pages. Mother’s Bible is, of course, a King James version, published by The World Publishing Company. I couldn’t locate a date of publishing. The address she wrote in the front was the first house my mother and father bought together in Atlanta close to my Aunt Boofie ( I wrote about her here). Mother’s neat handwriting abounds in this Bible. The dates and details of my sister’s baptism and wedding, my baptism and wedding, the date Mother moved her letter of membership to another church, certain passages that meant something to her: what to read during times of death, passages concerning types of dress for men and women, a reminder of where the “seasons” passage can be found (Ecclesiastes 3:1); and passages every Baptist is concerned about at one time or another regarding tithing. Romans, her favorite chapter is underlined heavily. The pages are yellow, the cover is brittle, the picture in the front is a rendering of the prodigal son’s return to his father’s arms. I remember sitting next to her in church on Sunday mornings thumbing through her Bible and always stopping at the picture and gazing at it since I couldn’t yet read. I always thought the white bearded man was God welcoming people to Heaven.

The real treasure mine of Mother’s Bible was the “stuff” she had placed within the pages. Various bookmarks folks had given her with their names inscribed on the back with a laundry marker on the back so she wouldn’t forget who gave it to her. Several cards from my sister and I for birthdays and Mother’s Day. A scrap of paper that my cousin Nathan wrote on when he was a much younger child. He was writing a letter to my mom alongside his grandmother. When his grandmother put her letter in the evelope she included Nathan’s letter to Geri, too. I couldn’t help smile as I looked at it. Mother had written on it exactly who had scribbled on the paper, why, and when. Nathan is now a very handsome young man and I’m going to make a copy of the paper to keep and send his mother the original for her to place between the pages of her Bible. A memory passed along…..a story for a future father to tell when he goes through his mother’s Bible…..life does have a way of carrying on, doesn’t it?

Notes from friends, old church bulletins, copies of letters she wrote to her old church and pictures. There is a five by seven picture of my sister and her husband on their wedding day. There is another picture showing the first house my mom and dad built together. It’s down the road from where my dad lives now. It’s a huge home. We never lived there……..I wonder why mom kept a picture in her Bible of that house. Maybe she liked to remember the good times we had there while it was under construction before she and my father divorced.

Several obituaries were found within the pages as well----my grandfather, my grandmother, my mother’s half-brother, many other family members as well. I carefully replaced them. I believe they should stay where she had them. Afterall, these things are treasures and someone else in the future will enjoy their find.

I looked up some information about Bibles. You can see several images of English and American Bibles here and here.

Sometimes we don’t need a history textbook or some heavy tome to discover where we’ve been. Sometimes, all we need to do is grab our family Bible.

Your past is waiting for you within its pages.

The Human Kind

I’m tired, sad, joyful, and hopeful all at the same time with a whole lot of weird thrown in. That really sounds like I’m a child of the seventies, but I am, and I can’t help it. I don’t know any other way to explain my thoughts and feelings over the last few days. However, groovy and neat-o certainly don’t fit the bill.

Thank you to each one of you who left a comment concerning my mother’s death. I appreciate the effort on your part. There is no way for me to express what your concern means to me, so in my meager efforts to express my feelings I will do the only the thing I can in the blogging world…..I’ll give you a link back.

Many thanks to Dan over at A History Teacher, the Rain over at I Thought a Think, Ms-Teacher at Ms. Teacher, and Lady S at Lady Strathconn's Journal for their kind words.

Spangles and Anonymous need a big thank-you as well, but I don’t have a place to link for you.

Ms. Cornelius at Shrewdness of Apes, Mike at Education in Texas, and 40 over at Fordee Blog have been through this before and I appreciate the support. We have been appointed membership in a club we don’t want to belong to. Maybe you, dear reader, are also a member of that club.

Polski3, I appreciate your optimism. We tend to think alike on many things. Thanks!

Mr. Lawrence over at Get Lost Mr. Chips had kind words and so did Q's Personal Legend. Q, I agree with you about Mom’s picture. So far it is the best one we have of her in her prime.

Californiateacherguy over at California Teacher Guy sent kind words as well as linked to me from his group blog LiveWire: Teaching in the Golden State to let others know. CTG, are you sure you’re not from the South? What hospitality!

Dekerivers at Caffeinated Politics sent some lovely, appropriate lyrics. Thanks!

Butterfly Angel at Butterfly Angel was so right with her kind words….”God will be our strength and we fly like the eagle…”

and last but not least…..Sumir at Sumir-History your email meant so much to me. My mother would be most impressed that through this “blogging hobby” of mine, as she referred to it, someone an entire world away would hear of her death and think of her and me. Thank you Sumir for showing what a small world we really live on.

We are one “kind” when you consider all things….humankind.

Thank you, my friends, for reconfirming that for me. :)

This Isn't the Post I Had Planned......

I had planned to post all of the links and images everyone sent me for my previous post. I really appreciate the way each of you played along with me as I had a little fun with the 100th school day theme. I needed a little fun last week as it has been a difficult few days.

My beloved mother went to Heaven at 1:45 in the morning on Saturday, July 15, 2006. She had been very ill for many years, and had lived in a nursing home for four years. The past month has been difficult for her as she entered her last days. She no longer hurts, she no longer fights for her next breath, and she no longer has to suffer the indignities her illness had brought her.

My sister and I have been going through pictures getting ready for Mother’s memorial service. After witnesses her slow decline and the ravages her illness had taken on her body I was simply aghast when this image came in an email from my sister. My mother was absolutely gorgeous. We are hoping one of our relatives can tell us where and when it was made. I had never seen this picture before which is surprising because I always ransacked the house looking through picture boxes.

This is THE way I want to remember her----young and beautiful.

I am going to take a few days off from my blog to take care of my family and myself.

I’ll be back soon. :(