January Book Report: Undaunted Courage

I first read Stephen Ambrose’s Undaunted Courage, the story of Meriweather Lewis and the Corps of Discovery expedition to the west, in the summer of 1996 when it was first published and I worked in Nebraska.  In the aftermath of that first read, I made a trip to the place in Tennessee where Meriweather Lewis died.  When I returned to work in Nebraska that fall, I explored every corner of Nebraska, Iowa, and South Dakota that the Lewis and Clark expedition visited.   In the years after that first read, I’ve picked the book up to use bits and pieces of it in my teaching.  The book is a rich and thoughtful account of the expedition, from the moment Thomas Jefferson first envisioned it to the point of its completion. 

I picked up Undaunted Courage  this month for a complete re-read as I taught my 7th grade History students about Jeffersonian America.  I used bits and pieces from Ambrose’s rich narrative to guide our study of the Lewis and Clark expedition.  The students are working on documents and artifacts from the expedition and together we are thinking about the discoveries Lewis and Clark made.  For my classes, the book has been essential.  For me, in the context of modern day, the book has been a timely reminder about leadership and big ideas in a time of when both notions are more important than ever.  

From bear attacks to the triumph over adversity, the story of Lewis and Clark is distinctly American.  Ambrose’s telling of the adventure is filled with admiration and rich details, the sort of story that makes you want to grab your backpack and hike the mountains of the American west.  

Amaryllis Tuesday: Week Six, January 31

Things are coming along nicely and I’ve a feeling that February is going to be a big month for my amaryllis.

That’s happy!

By Day 9

On Inauguration morning, in the last few hours that we had a reasonable and thoughtful president in the White House, I ranted at an NPR reports about Trump as JT and I were driving to school.  JT wasn’t in the mood for this and snapped at me that Trump hadn’t even taken office and that I “had to give him a chance.”  This tip was offered as earbuds were inserted in his ears, so a dialogue did not develop.  Instead, I drove to school wondering if JT was correct, and I should withhold my anger and frustration about Trump.

Just a few hours later, as I read the Cheetoh Kleptocrat’s bombastic and ignorant inaugural address, I had my answer.  Trump had been given a chance, and he’d already let the nation down.  Within 24 hours, as Trump and his flunkies were lying about the size of the inaugural crowd and insisting on the notion of alternative facts, it was clear to me that the honeymoon was over.  The week’s barrage of executive orders, culminating in Trump’s effort to ban select Muslims from entering the United States, sealed the deal for me.

The Resistance is on and I am all-in.

Saturday evening, as airport protests spread throughout our nation, I followed on Twitter, made another donation to the ACLU, and contemplated the importance of the fact that the majority of us did not vote for the Cheetoh Kleptocrat.  The good news is that those of us who oppose Trump are in the majority.  The challenge will be to maintain a careful and vigilant resistance in the face of the sheer volume of White House actions.  We’ll need the patience to remain active and leadership to urge us forward and see us through.  This is our nation just as much as it is Donald Trump’s.  We must remember that every single day and make our voices heard.

Swimming in the Deep

I regularly run on an elliptical at my gym and supplement that workout with some modest weight-lifting but for years I’ve longed for a gym with a pool where I could swim laps.  This year, I found a pool and lately I’ve been grabbing my swimsuit to swim laps.  It’s a glorious thing and as I add up the laps, I’ve plenty of time to think.

For most of my childhood, swimming meant a pool in the backyard.  I didn’t swim laps there, but I did play endless games of Marco Polo.  When I get in any pool, I always think of the pools of my youth.  My parents first put a pool in our backyard when I was in the 4th grade.  As a child, my father had not learned to swim because swimming lessons always required him to remove his very thick glasses.  Not enjoying the combination of near blindness and fear of drowning, my dad took a pass on swimming lessons.  When we got a pool, he learned to swim but always swam with his glasses on.   More than once, my sister and I swam to the bottom of the pool to fetch those glasses.  

I’ve worn contact lenses since I was in my early 20s and I regularly swam wearing them.  Last year, I finally exchanged my contact lenses for glasses full time.  When I get in the pool, I leave my glasses on a bench with my towel.  I can see without my glasses, but it’s definitely a very fuzzy world view.  I can’t read the (giant) clock on the wall, nor can I trace my laps by the timer on the other side of the natatorium.  I can tell when someone else is in my lane, but if they aren’t close by, I can’t see them.   I am a confident swimmer, so this doesn’t phase me.

But as I swim back and forth, I think of my dad, whose vision is far worse.  Now I really understand his reluctance to get in a swimming pool all those years ago.  I appreciate how difficult it must have been to take on swimming as an adult.  And I swim another lap or two, grateful for the blessing of time to swim and think.

Amaryllis Tuesday: Week Five, January 24

We’re in the midst of January Nor’easter storm.  This one brought rain and wind, instead of Winter’s customary snow.  The amaryllis sits patiently by the window growing taller as it awaits the sunshine.

Front Porch in January

In my world, January is the month when Winter really takes hold.  The front porch decorations of the month echo Winter’s stark stillness.  The front door has a bare wreath.

The table has greenery and pinecones with a touch of deep red to bring cheer in the chilly, short days.

The snowman flag is in the air.  If it’s going to be cold, I figure, why not have some snow (and maybe a snow day off from school!)?

The front of the porch has a string of white lights on an automatic timer so that we needn’t come home in the dark in the evening.

So far, Winter hasn’t brought us snow and though it’s been seasonally cold, it hasn’t been frigid.  Today’s forecast promises wind and rain but no ice.  We’ve passed the middle of January and had only one snowstorm.  It happened on a Saturday, so it didn’t give us an extra day off.  At this rate, February may also require an invitation to snow!

Real Life Conversations with my Boss: Making America Great edition

The backstory:  Friday’s swearing in coincided directly with Middle School lunch and so we opted not to watch the festivities.  In history classes, we discussed the importance of the peaceful transition of power and the historical nature of the changeover.  But we otherwise skipped out on a live viewing of the Cheetoh Kleptocrat’s speech, figuring we could watch later that day were the speech to be along the lines of Jefferson’s gracious and reconciliatory 1801 inaugural address, a subject all of our 7th and 8th graders have studied at length.  The principal and I read the speech over lunch, prepared to adjust our afternoon.  There was none of Jefferson’s gracious reassurance in DJT’s apocalyptic description of America.  We were horrified.

DJT:  “America will put its own interests first. America first. America first.”

B: “Great, that’s an open invitation for ISIS to come over here and cap us in the ass.”

Needless to say, the rest of the school day proceeded unaltered.

An Inaugural Pledge

For all of my life, I have paid attention to presidential inaugurations.  A minimum, I’ve found time to hear the president’s speech.  At maximum, I’ve watched every moment.   In 2008, I kept my son home from school so we could watch Barack Obama’s inauguration together.  I wanted JT to forever remember the historic moment.

But 2017 is different.  It’s not just that my candidate didn’t win the Electoral College while winning the popular vote by nearly 3 million votes.  I watched the inauguration of George W. Bush, despite the fact that he lost the popular vote to Al Gore.  Today’s inauguration of the spectacularly unqualified Donald J. Trump is  a profound disappointment for me.  In the months since Donald Trump’s November election, I’ve dreaded the moment that our nation’s collective fate is in the hands this self-absorbed megalomaniac.  I will eventually find time to read the Cheetoh Kleptocrat’s speech.  I will be glad of a peaceful transition of power.  But after that, everything about this day is filled with anxiety.  There is no cause for celebration.

And so I pledge to stand tall for equality and justice; for the liberty that we the people claim for ourselves and must always cultivate.  Our nation has endured and even flourished in the face of outside threats to our values.  The test moving forward is to endure and flourish when the threat comes from inside.  I would be lying if I claimed that I wasn’t afraid.  

On the evening of the election, as the horrible realization dawned upon us, my liberal 16 year old son developed a case of hives to go with his growing anxiety about the meaning of Trump’s victory.  Repeatedly, I reassured him that we would be fine and that the task that lay ahead would be for us to make sure to look after those who might not be fine in a Trump Administration.  And then my big strong boy, the son of two mothers who has not once experienced discrimination against his family, asked if his moms and their partners would be safe.  I reassured him that gay folks have endured much worse than Donald J. Trump and that we would be around long after he was gone.  

For me, that moment is the compass the directs me as we move forward.  I will not live in fear.    

I am strong.  I am in the majority.  I will not bend in the face of threats to values that have endured far longer than the bluster of one hateful, ignorant man.   This is our country just as much as it is Mr. Trump’s.  He is the test history has sent us.  I pledge to resist him with every fiber of my being.  I will be strong.  I will be good.  I will stand with the vulnerable.  I will speak truth the power.  Every day, for as long as it takes.

Sunday at Costco: Why? edition

It snowed on Saturday and the six hours of smelling wrestlers in the gym exhausted T and me.  After the grappling, we sought naps, not more time in the company of people.  So, instead of going to Costco on Saturday, I went on Sunday.  Happily, there was no shortage of strange sightings to behold.

1. A man in camo shorts, dress shoes, and a sweatshirt pushing a cart full with a toddler and average food items.  Had he run out of suitable clothes for shopping?  Come from a church-related hunting outing? It’s so hard to know.

2.  A different man in cargo shorts, hiking boots, a winter hat and a heavy parka.  Again, I am forced to wonder exactly where he had been or where he was headed.

In both instances, I must also admit: my son wears shorts all year, pretty much no matter the weather.  Is he going to be one of those men someday?

3.  Two men haranguing their disinterested wives, who were filling their carts with your usual Costco items.

4.  Countless examples of leggings.  Internet, I believe I have made myself clear on this matter.

In the interest of full disclosure, my cart contained the following items: 5 cartons of ultra-pasteurized half & half (Mama’s coffee needs are met through February); a 3-pack package of organic chicken breasts; 1 bin of fresh blueberries; 2 loaves of bread; and a 5-pack of men’s deodorant.  I was not wearing leggings.

Oh, New Jersey.

Amaryllis Tuesday: Week Four, January 17

This week, as we march toward the inauguration of a man who is wholly unsuitable to be the executive of our nation, the amaryllis is a reminder of patience and the power of endurance.  I do not expect good things for my country in the era of Trump and while I resist with all my might, I will look for hope where I can find it.  This week, I find it here in a stem standing strong and looking toward the light.