Springsteen

Funny how a melody sounds like a memory
- Eric Church

Dear Sarah Margaret, Theresa Mae, and Laura Elizabeth,

All of these songs here are intertwined with my thoughts and memories.  Sometimes the song came first.  I would be driving or doing something around the house, radio on, and the song lyrics would spark the memory.  Sometimes the memory came first and as I wrote it down I searched for the perfect lyrics to go with it.  But they were always hand in hand.  Music is such an important part of my life.  It is a gift.  It was something I didn't have when I was young like you did because it wasn't a part of my mother's life.  And when the world of music opened up to me, it was magical.  I have carried music in my heart and in my head ever since and it's the reason every entry in this blog starts with song lyrics.  It is the reason the opening entry in this blog is called "The Music Is You."   Music, and you three, are two of the most important things in my life.  You changed my life forever as did music.  I am so proud of you and the amazing women you have become and will continue to be.

Don't worry about me 'cause I'll be alright...

I still love you more than anything in the world.
- Sugarland
 

Love,

Mama

Arms of an Angel

In the arms of an Angel; may you find some comfort here.
- Sarah McLachlan

I stayed overnight at a friend's house once when I was extremely upset and needed a place to go. In her guest room was a double bed that was practically a museum piece. It was enclosed on three sides and on top. The fourth side had drapes on it. The bed had I don't know how many pillows on it, and lots of soft, comfy quilts. I felt so cocooned, so calmed in that space, it's hard to describe.

In the wee hours of the morning, when I'm starting to sleep fitfully, I snuggle up next to my husband, he puts his arms around me, and I fall back to sleep. Much more easily than the mornings I don't.

I think about the time spent nursing my babies. How a baby's body melds into its mother's. Checks flush. They fall asleep. It's universal. I close my eyes and I can still feel them as babies in my arms.

It's called comfort.

The events of the past few weeks have put me on an emotional roller coaster. I alternate between falling apart and being matter of fact. The falling apart side of me stems from knowing pain. I had this surgery almost 20 years ago. It's horrendous. My sister-in-law talked me through it and I thought it would be okay. They handled the biopsy well and so the surgery will be fine too, I told myself. And then I got a jerk of an after-hours nurse when I called for information and I am afraid again.

The matter of fact side of me says it's either cancer or it's not. If not - great! If it is, we'll either beat it or we won't. If we do - great! If not, my mom is waiting for me. All positive outcomes. Maybe my family doesn't see the last one the same way I do, but it's okay in my mind. There have been times through this when I've been upset and for no apparent reason I feel my mother's presence very strongly. It's unexpected, startling, and real.

I have wished I could just stop, quit dealing with all my demands, and have someone wrap their arms around me, and make this all better. That won't happen. But I know my mother is still with me and I take comfort in that. So are some wonderful family and friends who are angels too.

Johnny Lobo

Locked inside a heaven gone to hell
All the dreams were gone but not forgotten
- Kris Kristofferson

I started a journal about 30 years ago, in which I wrote down all the things I was going to do in my lifetime. A lot of the entries were places I was going to travel to. Others were things I wanted to accomplish. One entry per page so I could write down the date I did it and any description or diary-like entry of what I did.

Some of them were a sign of the times, things I was involved in at the time I wrote them - like bicycling and rock climbing, with entries like "Cycle through the British Isles" or "Climb in the Tetons". And I listed traveling to all seven continents and fifty states. I haven't cycled or climbed anywhere outside the U.S. but I am close to getting to all fifty states and have made it to Canada, Mexico, Germany, Austria, Scotland, and twice to Ireland.

Some things listed were the routine things you'd expect: graduate from college, get married, have kids. I graduated with a degree in education, then went back twenty years later and got my Masters and my principal's license. Then went back five years after that to get my superintendent's license. I got married and next year will celebrate 30 years along with three beautiful daughters.

Some accomplishments, I'm really proud of. I wanted to learn chemistry just because. I never took it in high school and certainly didn't need it to become an elementary school teacher. But I wanted to understand it. So I took it in college - and got an A. I learned how to fly a plane when Greg belonged to a flying club. I've learned karate and how to ride horses.

Some dreams though, fall by the wayside for one reason or another. I always wanted to learn to play the piano, but never did in all the years we had my sister's piano here at our house. It's one of the few regrets I have but I was busy with grad school and simply put my time elsewhere. I always wanted to take swim lessons and learn how to swim well; conquer my fear of deep water. With two chest/shoulder surgeries, that just won't happen. Neither will learning to play the bagpipes. And I will probably hang up my dream of learning how to parachute. Saying I wanted to parachute is how I met my husband. He heard me say that the night a group of us went out to a bar and he decided he wanted to get to know me better. But when you've had surgeries as extensive as these, you know better than to put yourself in a position where you could ever be in that much pain again. And parachuting, like motorcycles, carries too much risk for my comfort. It's sad when you let your dreams go, whatever the reason. You realize you're mortal...that you're growing older...that you've got limited funds...or time...or.....

There is one entry in that journal, entered Feb 1982 - 30 years ago - that says "publish some of my writing". Through my involvement with La Leche League, I became an editor for their Leader magazine Leaven which is read by their leader volunteers all over the world. On occasion, I wrote articles for them that were published in that journal. So I can say I've accomplished that goal. But I am revising it. I want to devote enough time to my writing that I can submit a manuscript to a publisher and have a book published. That's my dream now.

It Happens

Missed my alarm clock ringing
Woke up, telephone screaming
Boss man singing his same old song
- Sugarland

I was getting a massage today and the masseuse was telling me that one of the reasons she likes her job is the peaceful work environment. Interesting thought... Peaceful music that's laced with the sounds of trickling water, birds, the wind. Dim lights. Aroma therapy in the massage oils. And it made me think about the posting we use when we're hiring teachers:

Aspen Academy strives to create a collaborative and positive work environment where teachers want to work.

And I wonder how much thought most places of business put into their work environments? Consider the typical office with harsh lights, phones ringing, people making demands, and deadlines people are knuckling under. It is no wonder that the number one priority on every teacher's list for our new school is dimmer switches on the lights. My teaching partner used to always keep the lights half off. He felt it kept the kids calmer.

Greg's work environment is underground and in the winter he drives to work in the dark, works underground, and drives home in the dark. I struggle with my work environment simply because the nature of my work is nothing but interruptions all day long. Not here and there all day long, but minute by minute interruptions all day long. I went into work last Friday with only one thing on my to-do list. I never even got to open the file folder.

My Dean of Students asked me if I felt the work she was doing was of value. While everyone has a role in contributing to a "collaborative and positive" work environment, she is pivotal. The work she does is not shallow. It is not the rah-rah employee of the week kind of positive she is putting forward. She is systematically and thoughtfully building a culture in which she is helping teachers and students identify what it is they value, how they want to work together to achieve it, and how they want to acknowledge it. That is the highest form of collaboration, requiring top-notch facilitation skills, and a degree of patience that allows the positives to develop over time.

Rhymes and Reasons

And you wonder where we're going
Where's the rhyme, where's the reason
- John Denver

I believe things happen for a reason. I had a friend once who vehemently disagreed with that. He said that implied that man had no free will. Everything was preordained and there was no point in even trying. I disagreed. I believe things happen for a reason but what you choose to do about it is exactly why we have free will.

I have another friend who doesn't like to hear me say things happen for a reason. She's been through some unimaginable hardships. To say there was a purpose behind these seemingly senseless tragedies is an unkindness and I'm careful not to say that around her. But when senseless things happen, I have to believe that sometimes there is a reason too far removed for me to see or too far away in time for me to comprehend yet - or it would be truly senseless and to me that is unspeakable. So although I may go through frustration or anger or grief this belief helps me get through it because I have faith that there is some larger purpose, if not for me, then for someone else. I may play a role in someone else's larger reason and I accept that. It is not all about me.

There is a newspaper columnist whom I highly respect for his reporting on social issues in the metropolitan area. A year ago he was diagnosed with an incurable cancer. He is still here today and in his column this week, he commented that he has yet to ask the question, "Why me?" I have mixed feelings about that. I understand what he's saying in that you shouldn't ask it from a pity point of view, but I do believe you should ask it from a learning point of view. Whenever I'm thrown into tough circumstances, I ask myself what I can learn from it. Sometimes it takes me a while to get past the anger or the heartache, but eventually, I look for the rhymes and reasons. They're usually there. If not for me, for someone close to me.

A friend of mine posted on Facebook: "Sometimes when things are falling apart, they may actually be falling into place." Something to think about....

Cold Nights in Canada

And one is a teacher and one a beginner
Just wanting to be there, wanting to know
- John Denver

I was having lunch with my Baby Girl and was telling her about a conversation with one of my teachers in which I was trying to help this teacher understand what one of my students needed to be successful. The teacher started the list by saying the student would need to be able to hold down a job and I stopped her right there. This is elementary school. What does the student need right now, to be successful in her classroom? She had to really stop and think about it, and finally said it would be the Phy Ed teacher coming in on a daily basis to give this student an activity break. I asked her why and her reasoning was sound. But then she followed with, "But if I insist that assignments be finished before [the student] can have the activity break, he will say he doesn't care about the activity break and it won't work. And I had to explain that if she was giving him what he needed to be successful vs leveraging desired behavior, those were two very different situations. One was a safety net, the other was a power struggle. She really had to think about that too.

And my Baby Girl asked if all principals mentor their teachers this much? I told her I don't think so. At least not from my experience or my conversations with my colleagues. The closest I came to it in the school setting was a school psychologist I worked with, but he was so over-extended his time came in snippets and, while useful, never drilled down to the depth anyone needed. So who were - or are - the mentors in my life?

Maybe surprisingly, most of them were mothers in La Leche League. Their simple motto, to help one mother and baby at a time, grew into a world-wide organization that now operates in hundreds of countries and has helped millions of mothers and babies. All one mother and baby at a time. Important to ponder for people who set out to make a difference, to change the world. If La Leche League had tried to do something global from the onset, they may never have made it, but to quietly do what was important and let it take root, to bring others into the fold, and to see what it has become 60 years later is important to understand. All one mother and baby at a time.

From Jill, I learned that if people don't have enough ownership in their job, then why would they want to do it? How will they have investment? She believed they need to have enough say, enough control to make it their own. This philosophy has helped make me an administrator with a collaborative leadership style. Someone who is willing to tell her staff what the parameters are and then make group decisions. Not everyone is comfortable with this. Some people want to be told what to do. Some people don't want to take the time required to come to such decisions. Others take this to mean they can do whatever they want. It's different, but for those who can work within this style of leadership, there is a great deal of commitment.

From Peggy, I learned the importance of grooming new leadership. You're not going to be at the helm forever. Eventually, you want others to be able to step up to the plate. In the best of circumstances, the organization is vibrant and growing. In those situations, you can't do it all. Grooming new leadership helps people see themselves as someone who can contribute and help that growth. It involves seeing people's strengths and nurturing them.

From Ginger, I learned how to facilitate board work and committee work, and the difference between administrative work and policy work, and how to manage the information that needs to come from both.

From Nate, I learned a lot of the day-to-day of running a business. He and his wife operated their own business, but they had a rule of not discussing work at home. They didn't want to live it 24/7. But often he needed to vent about work things. I was constantly making mental notes...hiring and firing issues, liability concerns, how to handle difficult situations.

But those are all on the professional end of things. On the parenting end of things, I probably learned more from a La Leche League leader named Donna than anyone else. She was the mother of seven and at the time I met her, the grandmother of I don't know how many - and still active in League. She had the funniest sense of humor, and more common sense than most. One of the best things I learned from her was the belief that too many parents feel that since they can't control everything, they abdicate everything, and how important it was to parent what you could. And I drew on the collective wisdom of mothers who believed in listening to their children, meeting their needs, and positive parenting that didn't equate indulgence. I learned as I went, along with friends like Deb and Sandee, who I still am friends with today, even though our children are in college and beyond.

And most of all, I learned from role models in my own family. My own parents, but also wonderful grandparents and aunts and uncles who were very much a part of my life. I knew I could (and did) go to them as much as my own parents. It was my grandmother who told me to bring my colicky baby to bed with me, my aunt who modeled the matter-of-fact conversations I try to have with my girls and students, another aunt who taught me how to reason through difficult situations for positive outcomes. It was my mother who taught me what it really means to listen.

And all of this taught me that kids really do need lots of adults in their lives. Lots of people who care. I am thrilled that my girls spend as much time as they do with their aunt, and that they keep in touch with their relatives in Georgia. I try hard to make my school a place where all students feel they belong, feel they are successful. As adults, we don't always hit the mark for our kids, for our students. That's why it's important to have others standing by in the wings.

It's A Great Day to Be Alive

Well I might go get me a new tattoo
- Travis Tritt

I have seven tattoos now. And I'm waiting on the eighth. My first tattoo was a humming bird, that I had tattooed mid-calf in 2004 after I got my Masters degree. A few years ago, I had my girls' names tattooed around my left ankle. Above Laura's name is the Sugarland logo of a heart with wings that symbolizes their song "Baby Girl". Theresa drew me a frog that I had tattooed above her name today. And while I was at it, I had him do a yellow rose to symbolize my mom. The hummingbird is dipping it's beak into the rose. The eighth would be whatever Sarah draws me to go above her name.

I'm fascinated with body art. I have always felt clothes and hair should be fun, something that was probably gained from my upbringing with so many family members in theater. It's why I have always had a flair for the dramatic in the clothes I wear. It's why I don't care what others think of how I look. It's why I didn't care if my daughters wanted to dye their hair purple or any other color. Go ahead and express yourself! Have fun! Try on different personae! Just make sure it's appropriate when it matters, like a job interview, but beyond that, be yourself. Or try on different things if you're trying to figure out who you are.

But when it comes to body art, I've just told them you have to be absolutely sure you can live with it for the rest of your life before you do it. Interestingly enough, I've had my tattoos now for 8 years and none of my girls have gotten any tattoos. They may at some point, but not yet - at least that I know of. Piercings, yes, but those can close back up. No tattoos that I'm aware of. I remember reading about totem animals once and was fascinated with the concept. I think that's akin to what author Philip Pullman did in the "Golden Compass" series. Mine would be a hummingbird which is why I have one tattooed on my leg. It is something I can live with for all of my life because they are so much a part of my soul. As are my daughters. And I want something above each of their names to remind me of them as well. Names and images both have power. I'm happy to have both on my body as a reminder of them.

Yellow roses symbolize one's mother. I've been thinking about the yellow rose for a long time.

It's a great day to be alive
I know the sun's still shining when I close my eyes

Flyover States

Feel that freedom on your face
Breathe in all that open space
- Jason Aldean

I grew up in Minneapolis near what was referred to as "The Chain of Lakes." Lake of the Isles, Lake Calhoun, Lake Harriet, and Lake Nakomis...and meandering near them was Minnehaha Creek. Minneapolis is known for its parkway system, its bike paths and walking paths that connect them all. I spent more hours than I can count in, on, and around those lakes, especially Harriet and Nakomis. Walking, rollerskating, swimming, tanning, sailing, and particularly biking.

There was a great stretch of bike path that ran along the creek between Harriet and Nakomis that, if you came up to it fast enough and weren't slowed down by anyone in your way, you could coast for half a mile or more as you dropped down lower and lower into the creek bottom. It was cool and dark and green, fragrant with the humidity that comes from lushness. I would ride this stretch with a sense of abandon that was good for my soul. I loved the feel of the rushing air against my skin and in my hair. In my high school summers, on almost a daily basis, I would ride around Lake Harriet, head over to Nakomis, ride around that lake, and head back home. At least a ten mile jaunt. Of course when there were friends at the beach, or places to stop at along the way, all the better, but it was the rush of freedom of the ride I was really after.

When I went to work at Camp Tamarac, I pushed to be assigned to the out-of-camp bike tour, and finally was the last session of camp. I was thrilled to go on my first cross-country bike trip. We averaged about 20-25 miles a day on that trip, easy for me to do. And along the way I learned everything there was to know about bike maintenance - necessary when you're on the road that far from everything. I learned how to repair or change a flat tire. I learned how to true a bent wheel, how to take apart, fix and put back together a bike chain. How to adjust seats, handle bars, and derailleurs. How to adjust or fix brake cables. I also learned how to pack light. If you have to carry all your own gear, including tent, sleeping bag, clothes, food, and water on your bike, you travel even more lightly than you do backpacking - because backpackers aren't lugging a bike on top of everything else. And so we biked from Hinckley, MN to Madeline Island, WI and back, a round trip of about 320 miles.

And when camp was over, a friend and I went on another trip, this time from Stillwater, MN to Copper Harbor, MI which was about 700 miles round trip. Most days we went about 80 miles or so. One day, with a terrific tailwind at our back, we were bound and determined to do 100 miles in one day. I think we only did about 97 simply because we ran out of road, reaching our destination. But I remember parts of that trip... The day when it was raining and so we set out to bike to the nearest down for breakfast since a campfire was pointless. And biking uphill for many miles with no calories to burn and so we were burning sheer muscle in our legs and the pain of it, but having no choice but to push forward. Grim.

Pair that with the downhill ride with the tailwind, and the glorious feel of freedom you can experience only when you cycle through this great country of ours up close and personal. When you smell September wheat drying in the sun. When you see the steepled, whitewashed church in the middle of nowhere. When you hear small children laughing and playing in the municipal park. When you see railroad cars full of goods and graffiti. When you meet people who are proud of where they come from and the work they do.

You'll understand why God made
Those fly over states