SOLSC 2022 #13 - In sympathy

 

It is March 2022 and time for the

 15th Annual Slice of Life Story Challenge  

Every single day, for all thirty-one days of March,

writers will share stories.

Thank you, Two Writing Teachers, for creating this supportive community 

of teacher-writers!

"Look at these! I like these. These are little books." Three year old Frog was standing on our couch, reaching up towards the half-wall, which was lined with sympathy cards. 

"Those are cards, honey; we received those because Poppa's sister died," I explain.

She turns to her grandfather with a puzzled look, as if confirming this story of mine. She's too young to fully understand what it means to have died, but she is not one to be impeded by new language or terms. "Poppa, read me this one. Read me this book." Frog hands one of the cards to her grandfather, and he begins to read it out loud. Very soon, there is a pause, as he presses his lips together to resist crying. 

After a moment, he reads on, with a quavering voice. 

Frog hands him another card to read. And a third. 

It is too much; the tears win out. His face falters, his eyes moisten, his chin trembles, his tears flow. 

Frog stares at him. (Preschoolers can, at times, be so cold and distant when there is pain, 'ambulance-chasers,' drawn to the excitement but simply observing.) Then she hands me the next card. "Read this one, Nana. Let's read every little book up here. I like these." Frog is not to be deterred.

And there we were - Frog wedged between the two of us on the couch, me reading the cards one-by-one as she kept them in a stack on her lap, and Poppa listening with misty eyes. After I read each card aloud, Frog compared their pictures - "This has a bird! This has flowers! Here's a really big flower! This is a leaf from a tree. Which do you like, Nana?"

"I like them all."

"So do I, Nana, so do I."

This whole scene was really quite brief, only a matter of a few minutes. I am again reminded of the extraordinary magic of the young, their precious gift to us. I think: 

children slow us down 

make us pause

look closely at the cracks

which 

if we allow ourselves to follow their lead

to be present in their curiosity

along the fault lines

we will 

see 

think 

go 

deeper

we 

will 

feel

There's no rushing past

no ignoring

only together 

in this pain 

SOLSC 2022 #8 - On language

 

It is March 2022 and time for the

 15th Annual Slice of Life Story Challenge  

Every single day, for all thirty-one days of March,

writers will share stories.

Thank you, Two Writing Teachers, for creating this supportive community 

of teacher-writers!

I am musing about language development today...

Poppa asked Bird - "Do you want to go outside?" and Bird quickly toddled to the door. "First, let's get your socks and shoes...and your jacket," Poppa added. One by one, with coaching, Bird collected her clothes for going outdoors. Pretty impressive for a 15-month old! When she was dressed for the outside, she stood at the door and insisted 'baba!' (bubbles). Wow! We had been outside earlier in the morning, using wands and blowing bubbles; she had remembered and hoped to do so again. 

Listen to this - she is now directing us, rather than simply echoing or following our lead!

For much of her infancy, Bird was very quiet. I made the (quite false) assumption that this quieter manner was her personality. I think for months all I could really hear was her talkative big sister Frog (now 3 1/2 years old). As it turned out, as soon as Bird began toddling/walking, she erupted with sounds. She has become one noisy little friend - busy, curious, and
squawking 
grunting 
chortling
squealing 
chattering 
a steady stream of gobbledygook. 
She has become loud and chatty, and it is really funny. 

There are lots of nonsense words. She has far fewer 'real' words than Frog did at this age (and, yes, I know, I shouldn't be comparing). The pediatrician told her parents that this is typical of a second child, especially if the older sibling is chattering, explaining, and basically doing all the talking for them. It is clear that Bird has good comprehension of our words, as evidenced by the running around she did for Poppa before going outside. 

Here are some of the words I hear from her frequently - her favorite 'wants':

craka (cracker)

rabi (raspberry)

baNA (banana)

Fsh (fish) 

Sh (shoe)

Da (duck or dog)

haw (hot) 

ha (hat)

air (Chair)

Poppa (I honestly haven't heard her say my name - she loves her Poppa!)

Another tangent on language - isn't it funny how children mix up words sometimes? Frog has this hysterical confusion over the word "pinecone" - she invariably refers to it as "cannoli." Hahaha I have no idea when she ever even had a cannoli, but the substitute came and it is very endearing. I love this so much!!

I can remember each of my children making some pretty sweet slips of the tongue when they were young, too:

• Frog and Bird's Dad, my oldest son, called a lawnmower a "Molly-or" for years.
• Uncle W, my second son, used to talk about going up and down the stairs, and instead of saying "up and down," he said - I kid you not - he said "Habitrol" hahaha (His aunt was trying to quit chain smoking when he was a toddler/preschooler - this med was a frequent conversation topic...somehow the idea merged, and he simply couldn't shake it...so funny.)
• my youngest son, Uncle B, received lots of ribbing from his brothers for calling the basement "the bagel," when he was little.

I can go back into my own childhood and think of more slips -

• I remember my whole family teasing me/echoing me, when toddler me said "oble-lay" instead of "over there"...for years and years, if "over there" was the answer to your question about where something was, this was the loud retort - OBLE LAY!
• My younger brother had a "bee-ka-ma" rather than a blanket.

This is just the fun cycle of learning language, I suppose! What about you/your loved ones - any funny language slips?

#verselove - 29: earth-keepers

For the month of April, I am participating in 30 days of #verselove poetry writing with Dr. Sarah J. Donovan's Ethical ELA. 

Today's poetry inspiration was by Susie Morice, who shared many beautiful quotes and resources on the environment, and encouraged us to write a poem about one or more 'earth-keepers.' I kept thinking about my granddaughter, how much she loves to be outdoors - and how much instinctive respect and care she shows. Throughout my years of teaching, I witnessed preschoolers nurturing this same natural, uninhibited affection for our great world. Here's my poem.

children are earth-keepers

at what age
do we let go
the commonsense
a child holds?

a child’s instinct is 
to dig and discover
worm in the rich dark deep
pill bug hiding under stone
how there is much more below
to wonder

a child knows 
earth is their home
watching birds circle above the tree
hearing hills beckon for a roll 
how the lick of a goat is
to enjoy 

a child studies
the new and the different
rainwater flowing across the yard
a fallen tree ripe with life 
how blooming flowers are
to see

a child appreciates
they are earth-keepers
jumping from rock to rock
the wild surprise of cicadas
how fragrant fresh air is
to breathe 

a child watches
cause and effect
blowing tender seeds of dandelions 
turning on and off water
how a woodpecker’s tap tap tap is
to pause 

listen 
return
to a child 
marvel at majestic
cultivate questions
face the future 
bravely
with great care
treasuring
the miracle of earth

Apr15Poetry - Children

I'm trying something new, taking a risk this month - participating in
#VerseLove with Sarah Donovan,
hoping to write poetry every day this April.








Today's poetry inspiration is by Margaret Simon, who challenges us to create an acrostic with analogies.


Children

Cherish is to children,

Hope is to dreams,

Imagine is to journeys,

Light is to sunrise,

Dare is to mountains,

Roads are to guardrails,

Explore is to wilderness,

Nurture is to next.

The heartbreak of dementia

I am participating in the
Tuesday Slice of Life.
All participants are writing about one moment, one part of their day.

A big thank you to Two Writing Teachers for providing this unique opportunity
for teacher-writers to share and reflect.

On a recent visit, Mom was in a sour, cranky mood at our arrival, and Dad warned me to stay away from her.  "She's in an impossible mood," he declared. I smiled, remained pleasant, and set about making a fun little lunch for us -  getting out the placemats and the napkins, preparing sub sandwiches, some potato chips, and even a splash of "Fresca" for drink. Nothing fancy, but, welcomed favorites. I tried to entice Mom to the table, but she simply stared at me blankly or responded angrily ("NO!") to any question I asked. Finally, I asked cheerily, "What about Fresca? Would you enjoy a glass of cold Fresca? I remember how much you love this!" and she sneered at me and said bluntly, with vigor, "Run along!"

I had to turn my back to her so that she wouldn't see me laughing. Both the caregiver and I got a chuckle out of that. My father, however, did not. "Why does she speak like that!?" he demanded, "That is so rude!"

I suggested that we simply ignore her for the time being and enjoy the lunch. The caregiver took her to the bathroom to wash her hands (before the lunch which she declared she didn't want!), and I suspected that once she came out of the bathroom, she would emerge a new woman with the whole incident forgotten. Sure enough, when she came out, a much more pleasant person was inhabiting her skin. "Oh my! Turkey sandwiches! That sounds delicious!," she declared when she saw us seated at the  table. She sat down with us and began to settle in happily to the meal.

It's important to act as if the tantrum never happened.

Then the phone rang. The caregiver read the caller ID and called out to my father, "It's Time Warner calling, must be about your cable account, do you want to answer?" Dad stumbled to get out of his chair, saying, "I need to take that call," but he couldn't move quickly enough and he missed it; the call went to voice mail, and he was now the sour, cranky one. He was so frustrated.

Mom and Dad were playing tag team with their moods.

Dad could not settle back into the company of his daughter and son-in-law without resolving the issue first. Lunch for Dad was abruptly over. He wondered what they called about...did he forget to pay the bill? He didn't know how to retrieve the message plus he is hard of hearing and probably couldn't have heard it if he had. His vision is poor, too, so the caregiver read the number back to him, and he dialed it, only to receive the automated message - "our network circuits are busy at this time, please call back." Then began a fruitless series of call backs by Dad, with increasing anger at every repetition of the automated message. I suggested, "Dad, they were probably just calling to sell you a fancier package...just an ad, really, " but he is convinced his account is in arrears. He barks at me - "I bet I forgot to pay the bill! Your mother cannot live without the TV!" (This is funny to me, because it is he who cannot live without the TV, but I do not show any amusement on my face, only patience and understanding.)

Honestly, he tries to call the company for another 30 minutes. It is very painful to watch.

His lunch was forgotten.

What is so sad is that he can no longer discern that this phone call is really not a problem at all. Annoying, yes...but put it aside and chat with your daughter, enjoy their company. Take care of the issue at some other point in time; better yet, let them call back.

My mother, age 88, has full dementia - no knowledge of who I am, no memory of times we shared, no ability to converse anymore. My father, also 88, has Parkinson's - and, sadly, this disease is coupled with the possibility of dementia...he is slowly growing into the same type of mental hell. Honestly, I think it is worse for him, because he is at that place where dementia is beckoning - he is painfully aware of his memory slipping, becoming very anxious at times, beginning to repeat questions over and over, less sure of his short-term memory.

They are in the very best of living arrangements, under these circumstances - living in their own independent home ("cottage") within a retirement community, with a full time caregiver.

On this visit, I see how challenging life is for Dad now. He is no longer able to keep facts and dates straight, no longer sure what needs doing. He was not going to accept any intervention from me and yet he is no longer sure what he has done or not done. He was going to resolve this himself, he was in charge, and yet the solution is just beyond his grasp. There's the catch-22 - he won't hand it over, nor will he solve it himself.

This is the raw pain of aging, the raw pain of short term memory loss, the raw pain of losing control and independence.

It's difficult for all of us.

Time stands still

I am participating in the
Tuesday Slice of Life.
All participants are writing about one moment, one part of their day.

A big thank you to Two Writing Teachers for providing this unique opportunity
for teacher-writers to share and reflect.

Rhode Island Metro, Red Line. He pushes a stroller onto the metro, and a toddler boy in the stroller is wailing, screaming, very upset. "Dad" looks angry, too; he sits down at the 'priority seating' and seems far away, distant from this crying. The child wails, unconsoled, and Dad robotically takes his son from the stroller and holds him to his chest, patting his back. The boy continues to cry, but a little softer - yes, this is better. He wiggles away a bit, to sit beside Dad on the bench seat, still wailing.

What is this young father angry about?
What's on his mind, what burdens him?
Isn't hard to understand what a child needs?
How sweet that Dad manages to give a little love, in the midst of his frustration.

Diagonally across from Dad and baby, two young girls settle into a seat - they are maybe four and five years old. Their "Mom" sits down right behind them.

When did they get on the metro?
This same stop?
Just now?
Another young family.

Wait. The baby boy seems to be looking their way. Yup, they're together. Mom calls out - "Here. Stop crying. Take your bottle." Little guy jumps away from seat with Dad, runs to her, grabs bottle, back to seat with Dad, still crying. Sipping the bottle is soothing and the crying stops. Dad glares at Mom and then looks away, obviously fuming.

Why isn't this family sitting together?
How old are these parents? 20 years old?
Aren't their hands are full? Wow, three young children.
Aren't those girls precious - so quiet and happy, sitting together?

All of a sudden, Dad yells, "It was YOUR fault! You did it! He was with you, but you didn't ..." Mom yells back, "You full of it! It was YOUR fault!" And they start to argue loudly. The gist of the argument escapes me.

Something to do with the little boy?
Something else?
Don't they realize how inappropriate this is?
On a metro train, out in public?
In front of their young children?
Please don't argue here.

But they do, and the argument escalates. This is unbridled anger, frightening, out of control. These two know exactly how to needle each other.

I look up and around. There are maybe seven other passengers in the vicinity. Most have perked up as I have, looking around. We catch each others' eyes. We are all unsettled.

Next metro stop. NOMA Gallaudet. Argument continues. A couple passengers get on and, hearing the loud voices, they move to the opposite end of the car.

Dad pulls some papers from the stroller, rolled up tightly - "And what you want me to do with THIS! You don't take no responsibility for this, do YOU?! What about these papers, hunh?!" She argues back, "They ain't mine! That's on you!" And in the midst of these yelling voices, the little boy begins to cry again and runs to Mom and sits on her lap. Dad jumps up, holding the papers, angrily pushes the empty stroller to Mom (at Mom?), and yells - "I ain't taking any more of your &#%!  *%#&@ you!" and he storms off through the emergency exit at the end of the car into the next train car.

(Obviously ignoring the large sign STOP - EMERGENCY USE ONLY on these doors.)
(But, then again, maybe this is emergency use. I'm okay with it, at this point and time.)

Everything gets quiet. I meet the eyes of the gal sitting diagonally across from me, and I nod, thinking, whew. That's over. That was a close one.

What were those papers?
Is this a legal issue?
Maybe something to do with custody?
Or some sort of a summons?
Oh my, their hands are full; mistakes have been made; they need guidance.

Third metro stop. UNION STATION. Mom gets out of her seat, holding little boy by the hand, pushing his stroller, and beckons the little girls, "Come on, we're getting off here." She walks down to the far end of train to exit - opposite direction from the car that the Dad ran into. One gentleman enters and stands at the door, not moving to a seat; he looks like a military man - very fit and strong, military-style camouflage backpack, some sort of 'issued' pants with all those special pockets...

It's a new metro train, which means the doors stay propped open momentarily at this metro stop, as the robotic voice announces "This train is stopped for schedule adjustment."

Time stands still.

The platform has many passengers, coming and going. A couple other passengers enter our train car and sit down.

In a flash,
from my seat on the metro,
I see the Dad, race onto the platform from the other train car, up to the Mom and family, yelling, "I'm taking my son!," he grabs at the child, the woman in the seat behind me immediately calls Metro Police - and calmly says "I am on Red Line Train from Glenmont, stopped at Union Station, there is a domestic situation on the platform, police needed immediately," Mom screams, "Oh no you ain't!," Dad smacks her upside her face, Mom slugs him across his head, all the while holding onto her baby boy's hand, the two girls are screaming, Mr. Military goes flying off my train, as does a another young male, they grab the Dad, who fights and resists and curses, and they slam Dad to the floor, with Mr. Military yelling, "You have to calm down!" and Dad is pinned, with Mr. Military at his head/arms and the young man holding his feet, two other helpers are holding Mom back from Dad, she is screaming "Let me go! I need my kids!," another is holding the little boy, one screaming little girl separates from the others and runs in fear up the escalator, I jump from my seat on the train to run catch her and keep her safe, another woman is faster, ahead of me, enveloping her, comforting, bringing her back to her sister and brother, other helpers come from all directions, staying with the children, keeping them at a distance from the melee, Dad and Mom continue to scream at each other, the children are screaming, so many people daring to get involved,
a Metro policeman comes
down the escalator
too slowly for my liking
the bell chimes for the Metro doors to close
I know I am not needed
I go back onto the train
the
train
pulls
away.

What was that?
What is happening?
How could so much happen in just a moment?

How did so many people know what to do?

I am incredulous at this calm emergency response.
So many Good Samaritans on the scene, helping, staying
insisting on peace,
preventing worse.

What about those dear children?

What's gone wrong in these young parents' lives?
How can things get better?
What's going to happen?
What support exists for them?
What is the cost of this anger?
How to make a better life?

What about those dear children?