Summer on the Front Porch

In late May, I got flowers for the front porch.  JT and T gave them to me along with flower baskets for Mother’s Day.

Indoor plants came outside for the warmth and light of summer.  A cheery red and white tablecloth joined the flowers and my summer flag.

Now that school is out, I will bring my book and coffee and spent a bit of each morning sitting outside among the planet and flowers, listening to the cheerful morning birds and enjoying all that summer has to offer.  Each morning, this habit will set the tenor of my days and remind me to relax and embrace the daylight.

In June, summer feels like endless opportunity.   I intend to soak up every moment of it.

People of Good Will

I am a card-carrying Democrat and have been one since before I could vote.  The party represents my view of the political world because I am a liberal and share those values. I value political and social equality and work to move our nation toward those principles.  I want universal healthcare, equal pay for equal work, a better system for taking care of our children, and schools that value our children and teach them ideas, not tests.  I want women to be in charge of their own bodies.  I want infrastructure that makes our lives better.  I want  a world whose paramount value is peace and all the thing that come with it.  These are cherished beliefs, well thought out and consistent over my 30 years as a voter.  They are why I vote Democratic.  I like to believe that in principle I would cast a ballot for a Republican.  I have never done so; but I like to think that I might could at some point.

I have this perspective because I believe that political disagreements must occur in a representative democracy like the United States.  For most of my political life I have believed that I can disagree with the opposition but still feel united with them by our common American identity.  This, of course, is the very core of a successful republic: the belief that people with different ideas and principles remain people of good will.  And if we are all people of good will; people who wish to do right by their fellow citizens, then we are more united than not.  As a united nation, we can thrive and succeed even as we disagree.

This belief has always guided my view of the political system and it has made me sanguine in the aftermath of elections when my preferred candidate did not prevail.  I’ve been voting for nearly 30 years and this perspective has never faltered.  Politics need not be a zero sum game.  If there is one thing that I have always believed, it is that people of good will can disagree - sometimes vehemently- but still come together as a single nation. 

Enter Donald Trump.  

I will confess that I never believed that his candidacy would make it this far.  But now he’s the presumptive Republican nominee for president and I find that try as I might, I no longer view this candidate and his supporters through my usual lens.  I do not believe that Donald Trump is a man of good will whose ideas and principles are carefully considered, though different from my own.  Fundamentally, I do not believe that Donald Trump is a man of good will.  I believe that he is a deeply flawed megalomaniac bent on his own satisfaction.  Worse yet, I don’t believe that his supporters are people of good will.  

I am no longer prepared to respectfully disagree and let the chips fall where they may, confident in the flexibility and good will of our republic.  I believe that Donald Trump and his supporters are a threat to the nation because they don’t understand the basic nature of our system of governance.  They demonstrate a willful ignorance wrapped in terrifying extremism.  That does not and will not  ever serve our national interest.

I came to this conclusion rather slowly, both because I expected Trump’s appeal to fade but also because I believe so strongly in my fellow citizens’ ability to see through the charlatan that is candidate Trump.  It’s one thing to disagree with the folks who have a Romney sign in their front yard.  It’s quite another to see the Trump sign or number sticker and be struck by anxiety and downright fear.

I want to believe that we are better than Donald Trump.  I need to believe that we are better than Donald Trump.  Fellow citizens, it’s in our hands. Don’t let us down.

Real Life Conversations with JT: Midwestern Manners edition

The backstory: Though he was born in Nebraska, JT has lived in New Jersey since he was two.  He’s made the occasional trip to the midwest, but most of his life experiences are in fast-paced, get moving, go-fuck-yourself New Jersey.  When we loaded on to the bus to get our rental car at the Kansas City airport, he was a little taken aback by the polite driver who unloaded our suitcases with a smile.

JT:  I think that the bus driver is triggered by the way people handle their luggage.  He’s taking everyone’s suitcases out for them.

T & S:  Nope.  He’s being midwest polite.

JT:  No way.  He's triggered.

We head to the rental car desk where the young man working there is also unfailingly polite, friendly, and gracious.  T and I exchange looks but say nothing.  We all climb in the car…..

JT:  Okay, you were right.  Midwesterners are really nice.

Well-mannered midwesterners for the win.

12 Months of Miss Read: June

The backstory: At the start of 2016, I pulled out my very favorite Miss Read book, Village Centenary.  The novel is structured in months and each chapter explores a month in the year of a village school that is celebrating its 100^th anniversary.  This year, my own school is celebrating its 250^th anniversary and as we think of our past and look to our future, I thought that Miss Read would make a lovely companion for me.  For each month of 2016, I plan to read Miss Read’s reflection on the month.

Miss Read is a pseudonym for Dora Jessie Saint, an English author who wrote between 1955 and 1996.  Her novels were tales of every day life in small English towns.  Village Centenary is set in Fair Acre, an imaginary Cotswold community.  As is the case in nearly all of the Fair Acre novels, the novel is written in the first person and it is through our narrator, school teacher Miss Read, that the story unfolds.

Miss Read’s June was filled with flowers and sunlight.  She starts her month having returned from a late May vacation from school.  As I don’t live in England, my May was lovely but filled with the last weeks of school, each day seemingly more crammed with events than the next.  Then June arrived and the real chaos began.  

June with Miss Read

Miss Read’s June starts on a more restful note and her month meanders into July with talk of garden blooms and the summer school break that is close at hand.  As June unfolds, Miss Read settles on a plan for her school’s 100th anniversary to be held at the the end of the year in December.

At this point, with my summer break just underway, December seems a far off event.  But the older I get, the more rapidly the school year seems to pass.  JT has just finished the 10th grade and this summer he will practice driving in earnest so that come February 2017 he can get his driver’s license.  This month we will start to make college visits, a development that seems as insane as the idea of my boy driving a car.

So as Miss Read reflects on that last 100 years of her school, I am thinking about my last year and planning my summer to-do list.  First on the list is some time away from school to relax, sleep in, and enjoy some baseball.  Miss Read, from her bench in the sunny garden, would surely understand.

The Niblets

When I first began teaching in the Middle School, I taught 6th graders.  The topic was medieval history and it must be said that for the first time in more than 20 years as a teacher, I was a little afraid that September.  I knew many 6th graders and had been the parent of one not that long ago; I’d talked to other teachers and read a truckload about middle school.  But this was my middle school and these 6th graders were my responsibility.  I was nervous; maybe a little terrified.

Almost at once, my 6th graders put me at ease.  They eagerly absorbed our discussions of the medieval world and then just as happily shot out the door for a recess game of tag.  Life was joyful and they were the very definition of exuberance.  Those children charmed me.

JT, then on the cusp of 14 years old and with the sanguine disrespect that is 8th grade, immediately nicknamed my 6th graders “the niblets.”  I embraced the name as quickly as the niblets had embraced me.  The niblets were my students once again as 7th graders.  This year, another history teacher had the pleasure of their company.  But I saw them every day and enjoyed that fact very much.  

Last week, I accompanied the niblets on their 8th grade trip to Washington D.C. 

At the end of the week I proudly called their names as, one-by-one, they walked across the stage at our Middle School closing.  I have watched them go from awkward 11 and 12 year old 6th graders to much taller, deeper-voiced, and maturing 13 and 14 year old 8th graders.  The last three years have passed in the blink of an eye and now they headed off to the world of high school and years that, unbelievably, will pass even faster.  But they are enthusiastically ready for all that is coming their way, which is part of their enduring charm.

There was a catch in my throat as some of niblets walked past me to shake hands with the principal and grasp their certificate.  These kids taught me as much about myself as I taught them and I will always have a soft spot for them.  After all, they’re the niblets.

Peony

When warm weather arrives, the things I think about and want to write about are invariably related to the blooms all around me.  It’s no secret that I have a running list of plants I’d like to have and the peony in my front yard is a plant from that wish list.  T gave it to me; I’ve had it for four years now.  Each year, the peony gets larger and sets on a few new flowers, tight balls of color just waiting to explode.

As May transitions into June, the peony blooms open up with glorious color.   It lives in the same part of  my garden as the rhododendron and as the rhododendron blooms are fading, the peony takes control of the show.

My Old School Ways

My modest charcoal grill lasted me many years before it began to rust and crack.  T, concerned that I would try to grill despite the growing hole underneath the ash tray, took it to the curb a few weeks ago.  Last weekend, I secured a replacement that looks exactly like the original.

I know it takes time to get the grill hot and ready to cook, but there is nothing to beat supper made on a charcoal grill on a Summer night.  

Roses

My zinnia seeds have begun to send forth seedlings and I am already dreaming of the bouquets I’ll be cutting later this summer.  In the meantime, the roses in my backyard garden are sending forth dozens of lovely flowers.  I picked a few for a charming posy.

That’s happy!

Food Friday: Grasshopper Pie dessert

This week’s Sunday dessert was grasshopper ice-cream pie, with an Oreo crust, mint chocolate chip ice cream filling, a layer of chocolate, and a dollop of whip cream.

That’s delicious!

In the Backyard Neighborhood: June 1

Twilight in my backyard is the most magical of hours.  The light is nearly luminous and the yard looks its most lovely.  Whether it’s sitting on the back deck or standing in the window to spy a bunny outside in the grass, I never tire of this view.  

The heat of summer hasn’t yet settled in to stay; the new green leaves and plants are green and lush.  The peach tree, now in it’s third summer, looks to have a few peaches for us to enjoy later this summer.  The clematis is abundant with purple flowers.

The hostas are at there most lovely.

I love the summer season in my backyard, a place that never fails to charm me and soothe my soul.  I’m looking forward to hours spent out here in the coming summer, with a glass of iced tea and a good book by my side, watching the flowers grow.