Happy New Year

      As 2013 comes to a close and we are just hours away from rolling into 2014, I find that a little introspection is cathartic and good for the soul. Yep....... 2013 was a year. Now that I have the introspection out of the way I can write what I want......

      2013 was truly a banner year for us. We started out the year finding out that Jessie and Garrett were expecting a baby. What exciting news it was, since he is our first grandchild. In January, I also decided that I would retire at the end of the school year. With that decision made, the rest of the year flew by. So many times. I would think, "This is the last time I will......." and while I wasn't sad about it, it certainly made me recognize that the end of a season in my life was coming fast upon me.

     As we moved through the Spring, I would constantly badger Jill that she should retire with me. My line was "C'mon Jill, grow old along with me." It took until Memorial Day for her to make the decision to jump off of the employment train, but I am so glad she did. The past six months have been truly wonderful as we have played hard and not driven each other crazy.

     June saw the end of my teaching career and a trip of a life time. We left on June 14th for a one month tour of the National Parks in the west. Up to this time I had only been west of the Mississippi twice. Once 40 years ago when I flew to Hawaii, and again in the late 90s when the girls and I were in Memphis. We crossed over the Mississippi into Arkansas, drove up to the next bridge and drove back into Tennessee, just to say that we had been in Arkansas.

    Driving across the country to Breckenridge, CO in 3 days was a push, but we needed to get out there. Once there, we slowed down and visited:
  Moab Utah, and Arches National Park.
  Mancos, CO and Mesa Verde National Park
  Four Corners
  The Painted Desert
  The Petrified Forest
  Route 66 in Holbrook, AZ
  The South Rim of the Grand Canyon
  The North Rim of the Grand Canyon
   Zion National Park
  Bryce Canyon National Park
  Antelope Island in the Great Salt Lake
  Yellowstone National Park
  Cody, WY
  Little Bighorn National Battlefield
  Colstrip, MT
  Trails End Mansion, Sheridan, WY
  Devils Tower, WY
  Mount Rushmore, SD
  Custer State Park, Custer SD
  Wind Cave National Park, Custer, SD
  The Lincoln Home, Springfield, IL
  4 days driving home.
We traveled with Jill's sister and her husband, whom we vacation with frequently, and the four of us had a truly phenomenal time. To be gone that long traveling with another couple and still be friends says a lot about how great the Nivens are!  We got home on July 12 and left for five weeks at the beach on July 13th.

     While we were away Jill released her second novel, Will Power II: The Courtship.
On August 18th we celebrated 35 years of marriage AND the birth of Benjamin Randall Copeland.  We cut our beach trip short and came home to welcome Benji.

     August saw some not so happy events as well. On August, 4th, we went to Irish Eyes Restaurant in Lewes, with Jane and Mike,  with  after eating a half dozen really tasty raw oysters and a really delicious soft shell crab, I went into anaphylaxis and left the restaurant in an ambulance. They determined it was a shellfish allergy, and my days of clams, crabs, oysters, shrimp, scallops, and lobster are now behind me........ sigh.......

    On August 17th, Jill's mom broke her leg. After a stay in Chester County Hospital, and Bryn Mawr Rehab, she came home, and Jill and I moved in with her until she was on her feet again. Literally on her feet.  We found ourselves keeping the roads between Unionville and West Chester hot as we cooked dinners and helped Jessie and Garrett out with a newborn at home, and stayed with Mom as she convalesced.

    October came along and Jill found out she had food allergy issues that we are still dealing with.
October also found us reclaiming the yard from landscaping that had gotten out of control. 1000 pounds of brush, weeds, branches, and bushes were taken to the dump, and we were able to claim a partial victory! Spring will see us cleaning up and starting over as far as replacing plantings go.

     November and December were a blur as we moved in a blink from Thanksgiving to Christmas. Jill released her third novel, The Long Climb Back and had a book signing the 22nd of December in Rehoboth. This third book, while not a part of her Will Power series, is her best story to date.

     We got home and Christmas was upon us. It was a warm happy Christmas season that was spent with family.

    That brings us to tonight, New Year's Eve. Jill had another allergic reaction to something, so we spent 4 hours in the ER, and another hour in the pharmacy. So it has been quite the exciting time all the way around.

     I have enjoyed this year and retirement immensely. I tell everyone that asks that it is the best gig ever. I highly recommend it to all. I also realize that having Jill by my side in this adventure helps make it so exciting, and I am so happy she decided to retire as well.

     We are starting 2014 by driving to Florida to visit friends for a couple of weeks and attend the wedding of my nephew in Charleston, SC.  I am looking forward to the warm weather and the fellowship of good friends and family.
I wish you all a  happy, healthy and blessed,  2014, I pray that it will be as exciting as this year was for us.

So there is my 2013 in review. It really was a very good year, and I am okay with that.

Stopping by Traffic on a Snowy Day

Stopping by Traffic on a Snowy Day

(with apologies to Robert Frost) 

Whose cars these are, I have no clue

I could have stopped right next to you.

You would not see me stopping though

As the road filled up with snow.

The crazies drove without a thought,

Of possible mayhem they could have wrought.

While speeding on their icy way

This slippery cold December day.

I gave the horn a little toot

To let them know their speed's not cute.

They did not pause, they did not linger

So I waved goodby with my middle finger.

The snow was lovely, but there's a rub

I've joined the Snow-stopped Traffic Club,
With miles to go to to my hot tub

    With miles to go to my hot hot tub
 

          We drove up from the beach on Sunday with Jill's sister Jane and her husband Mike. What should have taken us an hour and forty-five minutes turned into a four hour ride.  It was a fitting ending to a weekend of unfortunate events.  Between the snow that quickly covered the highway, the crazy drivers who drove with wild abandon, and the overly cautious drivers that were barely driving, we were constantly entertained on this long ride home. The only good thing was Mike was driving, and I was not.

         A few weeks ago as we were closing up the beach houses for the winter, Jill and I saw an advertisement for the Lewes Christmas House Tour sponsored by The Lewes Historical Society.  We thought that it would be a lot of fun to come down and see some of the fine old houses of Lewes all decorated to the teeth. It would be a great way to fill us with Christmas Spirit and Holiday joy. We asked Jane and Mike, our constant traveling companions, if they wanted to go, and they said they were in. We made reservations at the Rehoboth Boardwalk Plaza, bought tickets for the tour, and let the anticipation build.

         We left early Saturday morning and decided to just take one car. Mike volunteered to be chauffeur.  With coffees in hand we made it from Unionville to the beach in what seemed like record time. Since the tour didn't start until 10:00, I asked Mike to stop by the houses so I could check to see if the plumber had gotten the water turned off and the pipes winterized. He was supposed to have taken care of it on November 11th.  We pulled up to the house, and all looked well. I unlocked the front door and saw that the check I had left for the plumber was still on the table. Moving quickly to the kitchen, I turned on the faucet and water came out. This was not good.  I immediately put in a call to the plumber and asked him to get back to me as soon as he got my message. With temps in the low 40s and a stiff breeze blowing, thoughts of frozen pipes danced through my head.

         Not being able to do any more, we left, me with a slight feeling of unease, to start our Christmas House Tour. Picking up the tickets, we found a parking spot and noticed long lines forming outside some of the houses on the tour.  People were bundled up against the cold wind that was sweeping down the street. We hustled over to the Historical Society's complex at Shipcarpenter Square and thought that we would start out tours in their collection of historical buildings and homes, which were all open and staffed for the day. As we walked down the street, the plumber called and apologetically let me know he dropped the ball, but would take care of the houses that afternoon.

        We chose the Doctor's office first, and we were greeted by a very knowledgeable gentleman who told us more than we would ever want to know about amputations in the 18th century. Other than saws, scalpels, and other implements of destruction, there were no decorations in the doctor's office.  We braced ourselves against the cold and moved to the next building and, you guessed it. No decorations. Hmmmmmm........ is this a Christmas House Tour, or a house tour at Christmas?

         Our next stop was a few blocks away. The line wrapped around a relatively new home. As you approached the front porch, you had to put booties on over your shoes. As we approached the Booty Box, they ran out. The smiling docent told us our other option was to take our shoes off.  The home had some Christmas decorations, but it was not decorated in an Over the Top /In Your Face way that we were expecting. It was however an interior decorator's dream. With architectural accents and furnishings that screamed of form and function combining seamlessly. It was beautiful, artistic, but not real Christmasy. 

          
          With our shoes back on we bundled up and headed back into the cold. Long lines greeted us at every house. Some longer than others. Most of the houses were more than a few blocks apart so we did get a good amount of exercise in. They were close enough to walk to and not worth the effort of trying to find parking each time. By 11:45 we were ready to find some lunch and warmth. A Touch of Italy, on the corner of Savannah Road and 2nd Street became our haven from the cold.

         Lunch was very good. Jill and I shared a Caesar Salad, bowl of Escarole/Bean soup, and an Eggplant Tower. They were all delicious and none had any shellfish or cilantro. We asked. But.... there was parsley, which is in the cilantro family. Jill noticed that the roof of her mouth was a bit itchy. She could feel some swelling in her throat, so she popped a Benedryl, and that took care of things. We need to be more complete when asking about ingredients. 

         We finished the tour and found it to be consistent. High on interior decorations, light on Christmas. Stopping by the beach house to see if the plumber had stopped by, I saw that his check was gone, but the water was still on....... Oy. We headed for the hotel and had a great dinner, and stay. The evening ended without incident. 

       Sunday morning greeted us with some cloud cover and the promise of a dusting of

The view from our room at The Rehoboth Boardwalk Plaza

snow.  Could there be a better way to get us in the Christmas Spirit? We did Cracker Barrel for breakfast and watched the flakes begin to lightly fall. It was beautiful.  We left at 11 and headed for home. The snow began to worsen around Dover and we slowed to a crawl. Although, there were some crazies that felt they could travel at 40 mph and weave in and out of traffic. We passed no less than 3 BMWs that were just stuck in their lane spinning their wheels. Once made it to Limestone Road, traffic was almost at a stop. With some clever navigating we wound our way through neighborhoods and back roads avoiding the heavily traveled routes. 

         For those of you familiar with the Kennett Square area, Kaolin Road presented the greatest challenge with cars stuck coming both up and down the hills. This caused people to go around into the oncoming lane of traffic and then try to get back to the correct  side all while their wheels were spinning merrily and the back end of their cars were weaving from side to side. It was the stereotypical snowy windy back country road. 

      We finally pulled into our drive shortly after 3:00.  Mike was slightly frazzled after such a long and stressful drive, and still had to drive home another 12 miles to East Fallowfield along more snowy and windy back country roads, but he did a masterful job of piloting us safely home. We sent them off with grateful goodbyes, and I set out to put the plow on my tractor and remove the 7 inches of snow that were in the driveway.... and since I didn't have to drive through it, I was okay with that.

For those of you not familiar with Robert Frost's stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening, here it is reprinted below.
        

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

Whose woods these are I think I know.   

His house is in the village though;   

He will not see me stopping here   

To watch his woods fill up with snow.   

My little horse must think it queer   

To stop without a farmhouse near   

Between the woods and frozen lake   

The darkest evening of the year.   

He gives his harness bells a shake   

To ask if there is some mistake.   

The only other sound’s the sweep   

Of easy wind and downy flake.   

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.   

But I have promises to keep,   

And miles to go before I sleep,   

And miles to go before I sleep.    - By Robert Frost

Come Thou Long Expected Jesus

     Come Thou Long Expected Jesus
My very favorite of all Advent songs. 

     Today was the first Sunday of Advent. For Christians this is the beginning of the ramp up to Christmas. As many of you may know my faith runs pretty deep. What you may not know, is that my theology, like my politics lies slightly left of center. I sort of lean to the Christian Left. Have no fear, this post is not a discourse on cardinal doctrine or a platform for my espousing my thoughts on whether we are pre-millennial, millennial, or post-millennial. It's about music.

     We currently go to Willowdale Chapel near Kennett Square. About a 1000 people attend the two services each Sunday. We have been attending since 2006 and really love the church. It is very contemporary in its worship music, sermon delivery, and hospitality. Which appeals to my worship style.  The dress code is casual, and jeans, or shorts in the summer,  are the norm. I don't know if I have ever seen the Senior Pastor in a tie.  Coming in the front door you are greeted warmly. A cafe with several different flavors of coffee lies just off the lobby, which is big and bright and airy, and the Worship Center is furnished with comfortable cloth covered chairs. It is just a warm, friendly, loving, non-judgmental come as you are church.

      I love Willowdale. I love the message, the music, and the people. If you are looking for a church, and are in Southern Chester County, I can't recommend it enough, and encourage you to stop by and check us out. If you are a little uncomfortable give me a call or shoot me an email, and I'll meet you at the door at either the 9 o'clock or the 11 o'clock service.

     All that being said, me, being me, I can get my knickers in a twist over stupid trivial things. It is who I am and something I need to get over. And really, they aren't all that twisted. Just a little. So the thing that poked me a little today was the fact that today WAS the first Sunday in Advent, and we didn't sing one Advent song. I love contemporary Christian music equally as much as the venerable old hymns.  The Praise Band is a group of people who are worshippers that happen to be top notch musicians. They strive for excellence while serving as a conduit for worship to flow between the congregation and God. And they are really, really good. Always.

     Today they did 5 songs, "Let the Praises Ring," "Loves Come Down," "To the Cross," that old classic, "Great is Thy Faithfulness," and 'My Hope is You." All of them are great worship songs. All of them were nailed by the band. The first and the last really rocked. BUT none of them are advent songs.

      Maybe because I was brought up in the Episcopal Church, and there was a certain amount of ritual and ceremony, especially when the big holidays were coming up, I have certain expectations.  Jill and I attended a Methodist Church for awhile since she was brought up Methodist. Later, when we moved back to PA, we became Presbyterians. Then, after 16 years at Kennett Pres, we came to Willowdale. As my faith evolved I found I really enjoyed contemporary worship, not to the exclusion of more traditional styles, but it is my preference. Except for when it comes to Christmas and Easter. Then, I am a "dyed in the wool" traditionalist. Why? I don't know. I just know that I want the traditional stuff twice a year.

     So today, this beginning of the church's period of expectation, I was expecting at least one song that spoke of that expectation, traditionalist that I am at this time of year, and I didn't get it.  No "O Come, O Come, Emmanuel, " no "Immanuel, " no "Comfort, Comfort You My People," nor my favorite, "Come Thou Long Expected Jesus." (It is the link at the top of the page if you want to listen to it.) Did it detract from my worship experience?  No, worship was great today, as usual.  Did I get all lathered up about it and fire off an angry email to the Worship Leader? No, although I let myself have a bit of a rant here.  Did my boxers get in a bit of a bunch? Well......... maybe..... but I am learning to get over this kind of stuff. I know they didn't do it just to annoy me. I know it's not about me ....... most of the time..... Will there be Advent or Christmas music next week?  I am pretty sure there will be. At least one song. I hope. ..... but it's not about me..... and if there isn't, the music they do have will be great, and  I can always listen to some traditional stuff at home..... and I am okay with that......


   

It's Beginning to Look A Lot Like Christmas

     Traditions are the things that make memories. Families are the things that make traditions.  Yesterday was Black Friday, and Jill and Jessie were up at 4, and out of the house by 4:30. They met up with Jill's sister Jane, Jane's daughters, Katie and Kelly, and Jane's daughter -in-law, Jamie. They were in the store's by 5:30  and shopped til they dropped, finishing up around noon. Much money was saved. Many bargains were obtained, and a good time was had by all. The non-shopping spouses all descended on Jane and Mike's house after the shoppers returned home for a lunch of Sloppy Joes.

        Once lunch was finished, each of the couples decorated a gingerbread house. Jane baked all the gingerbread and assembled the houses for us last week. Way too much candy was supplied, and the laughs were in good supply.  This is a long standing tradition that goes back to when our girls were little. We would always go to Jane and Mike's, and the kids would decorate gingerbread houses. As they grew up, Jane baked more houses and the adults got involved too.

     It is interesting to see how each house is decorated.  Jill and I do adjacent sides and are pretty much traditionalists. (See above picture)  My niece Kelly always puts on the most candy per square inch. Katie tends to go for the artistic. Last year she made a church with stained glass windows, achieved by melting gummy bears to get the translucent panels.

     Garrett did most of the work on his and Jessie's house since Jess's time was being preempted by Benji. So, since Garrett is a Kansas City Chiefs fan, his house had a KC flavor to it, complete with a snowman being punted though goal posts. Andy Reid featured largely in this artistic endeavor as well. 

     As we decorated, Christmas music was playing in the background.  As a "crowd favorite" Christmas carol or song came on the conversation stilled. As personal dislikes were played comments and laughter increased. Jill was lucky (?) enough to have two of her dislikes play back to back. All of us were scarred forever with the broadcast of that 1960s favorite "Dominic the Christmas Donkey." Jessie, poor girl, still has it stuck in her head today.
      Hey! Chingedy ching,
     (hee-haw, hee-haw)
     It's Dominick the donkey.
     Chingedy ching,
    (hee-haw, hee-haw)
    The Italian Christmas donkey.
    (la la la-la la-la la la la la)
    (la la la-la la-la la-ee-oh-da)

    A dinner of  Pizza and salad finished out the day and we went home around 7:30 or so. The shoppers were tired. Benji was out of sync because his routine was altered. Dash was glad to see us since he spent a long time in his crate. Jess and Jill hauled in their spoils from a successful day of shopping, regaled us with their shopping prowess, and told us again how much they saved.

     To me this is what Christmas is all about. Those things that we do every year with family and friends. The laughter shared, the remembrances of "Gingerbread Houses of Christmases Past", comparisons of past shopping trips (it amazes me how they can remember in detail how much they saved and where they went in previous years.) and the more subdued dinner as tiredness sets in and begins to take it's toll.

     Today, we will begin to put up Christmas decorations and get ready for Christmas 2013, and while this is a new Christmas, and Benji's first, attached to it will be connections to Christmases all the way back to 1952, as we carry on the  traditions that in some cases started many years ago and those that have been added down through the years.

     As Benji celebrates his first Christmas and I celebrate my 62nd, I have to wonder what traditions he will keep for his children and what ones will he add? What will his favorite Christmas songs be? Who knows, maybe it will be "Dominic the Donkey, " since Jess has been singing it to him all day.
If it is, it will be okay because we will all remember it started on his first Christmas.... and I am okay with that......

Over the River and Through the Woods

    

   
      With Thanksgiving coming on Thursday, we will be going over the Brandywine and through the woods to Grandmother's house in East Bradford, to pick her up, and then go to Marshalton to have dinner with Jill's sister, Dr. Joan. So we aren't too far off from the song. Joan has hosted several times in the past few years and always has a wonderful meal prepared. This year there will be about 13 of us there.

     Back in the late 80s and into the 2000s we would host and typically have anywhere from 20 to 28 people for dinner. It involved 30 lb turkey, borrowed tables and chairs, lots of Manhattans, and the general mayhem that ensues whenever you get a big crowd together. Football on the TV, 20 people hanging out in the kitchen, a couple of dogs, and loads of laughs. As stressful as it was, I looked forward to those big dinners. I also looked forward to making a humongous batch of turkey soup the next day. I freeze it, and there is nothing like enjoying a steaming bowl of it on a snowy day in February.

     Growing up, Thanksgiving was never a really big event. It usually just involved our immediate family, my grandparents on my mother's side, and the occasional boyfriend of one of my sisters. I would get up and help my mother get the turkey ready. The smell of celery, sage and thyme, still takes me back to my earliest memories. Once in and roasting, it would fill the house with the heavenly aroma and promise of the feast to come.  On one particular Thanksgiving, We had just taken the turkey out of the oven when my sister's boyfriend drove up the driveway. She was still in a bathrobe and went flying through the kitchen. The robe caught the turkey and down it went. I think she and my mother wrestled it to the floor with both of them only saving a drumstick each. The turkey was scooped up, 5 second rule applied, and returned to it's platter, legless, but only a little worse for the wear.

     Once Jill and I started hosting our big family feasts, Jamie and Jessie followed in my footsteps, and would get up early and help make the stuffing and get that 30 pound turkey into the oven.  As we prepared it and watched the Parade, we would fill the kitchen, and the house, with the perfume of Sage, Thyme, and Turkey.  Once this task was complete, we would shift our focus to getting the house ready for the onslaught of family and friends. Guests would begin to arrive around 3 or 4 in the afternoon, the noise levels would rise to jet engine decibels, the Manhattans would flow liberally, and the combination of too many bodies, a roaster and the oven would raise the temperature in the house to 200 degrees. While it wasn't the Norman Rockwell version of Thanksgiving, it was a warm, wonderful gathering that I so enjoyed.

      The very first year we hosted, linen tableclothes, china, silverware, crystal were all the order of the day. Jill and I were still doing dishes and clean up at 11:00 that night long after the last guests had left. We made a decision then and there, that "Next year, everything is disposable." and it was. And no one minded that they were eating on paper plates (The expensive Chinet ones) or that their "glass" was plastic. We were freed up to enjoy our company and not spend the entire evening cleaning up.

    So here we are in 2013. We won't be home for Thanksgiving. We will be going over the river and through the woods. No extra tables or chairs needed here in Unionville. No 30 pound turkey in the oven waiting for it's big reveal. No crowds. No clean up. All of that will be over in Marshalton. But....
The smell of Sage, Thyme and Turkey will fill the house on Thanksgiving Day. It wouldn't be Thanksgiving without it. Every year that we eat somewhere else, I put a turkey breast in the oven. It smells the same, it is easier to prepare, we have turkey for sandwiches and casseroles, and I can still make my Turkey Soup..... and I am more than okay with that.

The Little Things Mean A Lot

          
When I arrived at Greenwood Elementary back in 1990, I was introduced to an event that had been started by two teachers a few years before, Friday Night Live. This was an elementary school sleepover. While it was presented as a reading activity, it really was a cover for the best elementary school event EV.ER. We had two alternating themes; Read for the Gold, an Olympic theme we used in Olympic years; and Read in the USA. With both events, as the students read, their pages translated into miles, and they traveled around the world or the United States. It was a premier event that kids looked forward to for most of their elementary years.

     In 1990, there were 2 Fourth grade classes and 2 Fifth Grade classes in the school consisting of a little over 100 kids, and almost all of them would participate. As the years went by, the number of classes increased as did the number of kids. Around 1994 or 95, it became just a 5th grade event because we had 3 classes of each grade and close to 140 kids, with 4th graders getting their own Friday Alive.  The activities and timeline morphed and changed over the years as we streamlined the program, but the basic premises were always the same. Come back to school, read, play games, eat, and sleepover.

     A typical schedule was something like this:
  

     6:15 - 6:30          Register

     6:30 – 6:50         Opening Ceremonies

     6:50 - 7:25          Read 1

     7:30 - 7:55          Game 1

     8:00 - 8:25          Read 2

     8:30 - 8:55          KickBoxing

     


      9:00 - 9:25          SNACK 1

     9:30 – 9:55         Game 2

     10:00 - 10:25      Read 3

     10:30 - 10:55      Game 3

     11:00 - 11:10      SNACK 2

     11:15 - 12:00      Storyteller

     12:00 - 12:15      Ready for Bed

     12:30                  Pillow Fight

 

Saturday

     6:45AM - 7:00 AM  Wake Up & Pack up

     7:00 - 7:30          Breakfast

     7:30 - 8:00          Closing Ceremonies

With a schedule like this, who could not have fun?

     
     It takes about 50 volunteers to pull this thing off, and every year, there is a great group of parents that rise to the occasion.  During the off times, parents and staff get a chance to get to know each other a little better in a very informal setting. This does a lot in building a Parent/Teacher relationship.
It also takes a great deal of time and effort from the Fifth Grade Team. Having participated for 23 years, I know of this first hand. The planning begins in September and gets more involved as the weeks go by. My hat is off to the team as it is rare to find teachers willing to come back to school on a Friday and spend the night with 100+ 5th graders. 
     
    The biggest payback is the memories it creates for the kids that participate. 24 years later, I still have former students, now in their 20s and 30s, tell me how much fun Friday Night Live was. They may not remember I taught them long division and how to multiply and divide fractions (Just flip the divisor and multiply!) but they do remember FNL. 

     I am not sure when we added the pillow fight, but it has to be the most anticipated activity we do. It is also the scariest for the teachers. If someone is going to get hurt, this is when it will happen.  We try to monitor it as much as possible, and give them lots of ground rules, like no hitting above the neck or below the knees, but 100 kids with pillows is insane, and lots and lots of fun. 
     
      This year, I am only going to stop by for a visit.  As much as my team wanted me to be involved, and as much as I would like to be involved, I think it's best that I let them have their moment in the sun. There is a season for everything, and I into the next one.  But after 23 years, I do have to stop by....... and I am okay with that.

Rocket man, Burning Out his Fuse up Here Alone

On October 4, 1957, I was just 9 days away from my 5th birthday.  The Russians launched the first artificial earth satellite.  I lived on West 24th Street in Chester, PA, and The Chester Times published the times it would pass over and be visible. I can still remember our family going out into our back yard with our neighbors, Jack and Sally Collins, and looking up. Now I don't know what I was expecting to see, but it was certainly more than a tiny dot of light. Dad and Jack had all sorts of Russian Communist comments, jokes about taking my picture, and the wonder that we could put things into space. Even though I was highly disappointed that the much vaunted satellite was not much more than moving point of light, it was the beginning of a love affair with astronomy and space exploration. 

     I learned the names of all the constellations and the seasons when they were visible.  I loved going camping and seeing the Milky Way stretch across the sky. I was glued to the TV whenever there was a NASA mission going off. I can clearly remember Alan Shepard's first Mercury mission, followed by Gus Grissom,  John Glenn, Scott Carpenter, Wally Schirra, and Gordon Cooper. The Gemini and Apollo Missions of the mid and late 60s held even more appeal as the Moon Landings became part of Apollo. The horror of Apollo 1 burning on the launch pad with the loss of all three astronauts. 

      As the moon landings ended in the 70s due to budget cuts, Skylab took their  place as my objects of space interest, followed in the 80s by the Space Shuttle program. As the Shuttle program developed into the 90s and 00s , launches and landings became commonplace and the Network News didn't always cover them live. But the internet always did, and I could feed my curiosity.

      And that brings me to tonight. There was a rocket launch from Wallops Island, VA tonight at 8:15.  At 8:06 I was on the roof of my house looking south waiting to see it. The little orange spot of light rose out of the south, briefly had a tail, then become a bright spot of light traveling to the east until we lost it in the few clouds that were present. It wasn't much bigger than Sputnik was back in 1957. But it was still cool, and I am glad I climbed up on the roof for a better vantage point. Jessie was with me up there, and that was pretty cool too. And I am more than okay with that

shot taken from my roof with an iPhone

Shot taken in Frankford, DE by a professional photographer

Jessie on the roof

 

The Falling Leaves

     In the TV series "Cheers," the cast was a group of regulars at a bar, "Cheers" in Boston. Norm Peterson, one of those regulars was always greeted with a hearty, "NORM!" when ever he walked in. He was a regular. Intimately connected to Cheers. There is a lot of comfort being a regular. It is defining. It means you belong.

     In an earlier blog, I wrote about how retirement has taken away some of my identity, and I am searching for my new definition. I think I may have gotten a glimpse of what it may be today. It reminded me of the quote from Richard Bach's Illusions: The Adventures of a Reluctant Messiah:
       "Argue for your limitations, and sure enough, they're yours."

           One of the beautiful things about Fall are the resplendent colors of the leaves on the trees. We first enjoyed it driving to a wedding in New York in early October. As the season progressed, the trees just seemed to increase their beauty with each passing day. On one of our trips to the beach, a couple of weeks ago, they were at their peak. The sun was just at the right level, the sky was just the right shade of blue to be the perfect background. The reds and yellows of the Maples were intense. The oranges of the Oaks could not be outdone.  It truly was a feast for the eyes.

      One of the not so beautiful things about Fall is that the leaves eventually do just that. Fall.  They fall on my driveway.  They fall on my lawn.  They fall in my gutters. They fall, and because they fall, somebody has to clean them up. Usually, I just sort of mulch them up and blow them around the yard and not worry too much about them, but this year we had a bumper crop, and I ended up with these mountain ranges of mulched up blown around leaves under the trees that line our driveway. Something more would have to be done this year. Drastic measures would have to be taken.

     With the advent of our retirement, Jill and  I have spent many hours out in the yard reclaiming our landscaping after many years of only cursory maintenance. This spring and summer, being especially wet, made for a lush growing season for everything.  We have pulled weeds, battled vines, pulled out shrubs, and pruned limbs, and not without some effect.  We have taken well over a thousand pounds of "yard waste" to the landfill, where they have a composting section. One part for grasses trimmings and leaves, and another for woody waste and branches.  This abundance of compostables  meant that we were making two or three trips to the landfill a week. Sometimes two trips a day. Today was one of those days.

     Last night's wind storm brought down an enormous amount of leaves. We have a Dawn Redwood that drops these little tiny leaves and is messier than any Mimosa I have ever seen. The driveway was green with Redwood droppings. The Maples were pretty much cleaned off as were the Oaks and Lindens. The Willows are still hanging in there just so they can annoy me for the next several weeks. After much raking, blowing, and sweeping,  I added to my driveside mountain ranges and decided I needed to haul them to the landfill as well.  I filled the trailer and hauled away the first three hundred pounds. Coming back, I filled another trailer-load with another two hundred twenty pounds and took this away as well.  

     When you go to the landfill, you drive onto a scale and get weighed-in.  Once the light turns green, you can drive up to the proper area and drop your load.  Then you drive back onto the scale and weigh out. As I checked out  for the second time today, and probably the tenth time this month, the nice Landfill Lady, says "You come here so much, I will probably know your township without having to ask you anymore." Translated  from Landfill Jargon to English, she was saying "BILL!" I have become a regular. At the Dump. My defining moment. I am no longer Bill Hicks, Fifth Grade Teacher, I am BILL! the Dump Guy.......... I might be okay with that.

       
 

A Ghost of Christmas Past

   

     Back in 1969, the world was embroiled in Vietnam, gas was 35 cents a gallon and a loaf of bread cost about the same. The Beatles "Abbey Road" was released, and The 5th Dimension was singing 'Let the Sunshine In." It was a different world 44 years ago.
     Not coming from a wealthy family, I never received extravagant gifts, nor could I afford to give them. Sometime during December the crass commercialism of the 60s prompted me to write a letter to the editor of the Delaware County Daily Times. Using Virginia O'Hanlon's letter, written in 1889, questioning the existence of Santa Claus,  as my jumping off point, I yearned for a simpler time. So here it is the musings of a 17 year old back in the 60s.....

       As I read through this it came to me, that things still haven't changed all that much as we approach Christmas 2013. The advertising starts earlier, the stores open earlier and stay open later, but we still are a pretty commercial crowd.  In spite of all that, 124 years later, I think we could still tell Virgina that "Yes, there is a Santa Claus."

It's a Long Long Time from May to December......

     At my retirement dinner, I sang a little parody of Sinatra's, "It Was a Very Good Year."  In it, I went through my career as a teacher. 

When I was 31

I first taught Kindergarten

I had 25 kids

My back didn’t hurt

I could bend my knees

I taught them ABCs

We had a lot of fun

When I was 31

When I was 45

I team taught with Laboure

We had 53 kids

In a double room

And we had two aides

We taught novels for grades

And that class came alive

When I was 45

 

When I was 58

I again taught Kindergarten

I had 22 kids

They broke my back

I couldn’t bend my knees

But I taught them ABCs

And the sledding was great

When I was 58

And now the days grow short

I’m in the autumn of my years

And I drink lots of wine

As I sit on my couch 

In front of the fire

I think it’s time to retire

Maybe drink some beer

It is a very good year.

      I thought it was a little bit clever and I cracked myself up. I think it was well received by those in attendance.  

What struck me was how my teaching career spanned 30 years, but it seemed like it passed by in the blink of an eye.  Upon further reflection,  It seemed like my life had passed by in the blink of an eye. Where had the last 60 years gone? 

   

      I can scarcely believe that I am 61. The great Satchel Paige once said, "How old would you be if you didn't know how old you are?" That is one of those things that go through your mind and make you say ...hmmmmmm.... So how would I be? certainly not 60 ...... 50? No, my 50s sucked. 40? ......... 30? .... no, I didn't like 30 either ..... 37 sounds about right. 

     

I turned 37 in October of 1989. We had recently moved to Unionville into the house we live in today.  Jamie and Jessie were 4 and 2, I was a tenured teacher in Moorestown, NJ, commuting the 50+ miles across the river each way everyday.  Lucy, our first Golden Retriever was 2.  We were rockin' the suburbs and life was pretty good. 

    

         Yeah, Satchel, I think I am 37...... but know that I am 61.  As much as I am not at all happy about growing old, I am resigned to it..... The aches and pains of arthritic hands and knees and back remind me daily that time marches on, and I think on some days, it marches on top of me. So all I can do is make the best of it.  

     

       Back in September after the rush of summer, and what seemed like endless vacations. I came to the realization that a summer of dining out, mid-day Margaritas, cold beers while fishing, and a trip or two to the Dairy Queen had added a few extra pounds making the arthritic knees and back complain a little louder each morning.  Not only was I old, but I was old and fat. I couldn't do anything about the old but I could take care of the other. So with a little resolve and great expectations, I went on a diet. 1500 calories a day.  It was doable. 

A Peanut Butter and Jelly Sandwich for breakfast, a salad with a couple ounces of tuna fish or some other protein for lunch, a Manhattan with a dinner of salad, a vegetable and some kind of protein, and a glass of red wine for "snack" before bed. Like I said it is doable. The Manhattan and the wine make it bearable.

The good news is that it is working. Since September 21, I have lost 27 pounds and am only 3 pounds away from my first goal, which is a month earlier than I had expected. With a little bit of luck, and a little more exercise, I might make Goal Two, which is 10 lbs beyond Goal One, by New Years.

So while the days grow short, and I am in the Autumn of my years, like the song says,  I am going to make the best of it. This retirement gig is the BEST.THING. EV.ER.
Getting old sucks, but I think by whipping myself back into better shape it will make it less painful.
And hey, I'm only 37 so I have a long time to enjoy it.

These Are a Few of My Favorite Things

      Winter is coming........ The past few mornings I have found temps below freezing and the necessity to build a fire in the woodstove. Sitting with my coffee and the newspaper in front of a crackling fire is one of my favorite things to do.
    
     We all have favorite things. It starts when we are babies. A beloved stuffed animal. A blanket with the right feel. They become an extension of ourselves and are almost synonymous with who we are.  Jamie had Bunny, and Jessie had her Blanket and her dog Fluffy. Even as they got older, Bunny, Blanket, and Fluffy were always with us.

    Eventually, we outgrow the need for these things. Or do we? Societal expectations make us feel that after a certain age, it is inappropriate to carry a stuffed animal around, so we are resigned to leave our favorite comfort object at home on our bed to await our arrival home from school. Our need is still there. We still want and need that connection to that deep down spot of inner peace, but our concern over what people will think of us is overriding, so we find a "Blanket Substitute."

      As a kid it might be a favorite shirt that you wear as often as you can. Or a jacket. Or a pair of jeans. As an adult, our favorite things can be wide and varied. The picture at the beginning is my favorite coffee mug. I got it when I took a 4th grade class to the Marine Mammal Stranding Center in Brigantine, NJ, in 1989. There is nothing sentimental about that trip. Nothing that endears the mug to my heart. I just like it.  The color, the shape, and the thickness of the rim just appeal to me. It feels right when I drink my coffee. It keeps my coffee warm enough long enough. I like the way it fits in my hands when I hold it. So every morning that I am home, it is my "go to" mug of choice, and has been for the past 24 years.  Being a teacher for 30 years, I received many different mugs as teacher gifts; Penn State mugs, Best Teacher in the World mugs, Life is Good mugs, Far Side mugs, and I'd Rather Be Fishing mugs, but Cupid the Harp Seal has longevity. It gets top priority when I am making my morning coffee simply because it is one of my favorite things.

      So what is your Favorite Thing? What is that item that you keep close by, that feels just right in your life? I'm willing to bet you have at least one.