Gully Brook Press

2012-01-27T17:07:00.000-05:00

It seemed like a long week. I only spend two days per week on campus, but resuming that routine is tiring. My classes are good overall. I think I will have to stay on top of Toleration, which is both large and a little juvenile in atmosphere. Seems to be composed of two large groups of freshmen who know each other from the dorms, and then the remaining half of the class consists of upperclassmen who won't pose the same challenge. The snazzy new classroom with its tables and computer chairs arrangement rather than desks is probably going to be a hindrance to classroom management, unfortunately. The structure of rows can be handy sometimes, even though I am going to love the tables for Foundations. I think both on campus sections will be a dream. Too early to get a sense of the online class, and that is not helped by my lousy computer situation. It's on its way -- in Pennsylvania in transit at the moment. Expected delivery is listed as today, but I anticipate tomorrow given that it is not currently on a truck in the Capital District.

I spent today working on something unpleasant. One more effort to collect what is owed to me. I did get a response, but not from the check signer. I am not optimistic. Something the correspondent shared was that the behavior is irrational, either passive-aggressive or approach avoidance. I've heard of passive-aggressive before, of course, and even labeled some actions that way -- but approach avoidance was new to me, although I am familiar with social psychology. I googled it and found it an interesting confidence -- also useful, and glad I have not encountered it much in the past.

2012-01-25T15:25:00.005-05:00

Ha ha. Why should now be any different? It isn't that I think the upset residents are wrong. The water has been very active and brown below the Reservoir since Irene. Bit it's more of an issue because it now is impacting those south of the dam? News flash: This has been going on for more than 100 years. Read this:

"In addition to this sense of distrust, many residents of Ashokan feel that the city has not outgrown its original assumption that rural areas exist for the sole purpose of servicing growing urban centers. This position was first made emphatically clear in 1905 by City Corporation Counsel Delaney, when he conducted the first hearings in Kingston, and little change in this point of view seems to have occurred since then" (Steuding, B., 1985, The Last of the Handmade Dams, p. 110).

So good luck on that apology.

On another subject, it is now a week into the new semester. Foundations classes are going well. So far, they seem to be full of bright lights! Overall, the sections are not huge (20-ish). Due to my computer crash, it turned out that I was not as available to issue permission numbers so the sections could go over the cut point, which meant when a few students dropped during final registration (as always happens, some students "course shop"), they were not replaced. That's OK - classes of twenty students will be a pleasure. Toleration is quite large at this point though (33).

I scored brand new classrooms in the lecture center area -- a big lecture center was chopped into three classrooms and outfitted with tables, computer chairs, and the latest technology. All three of my classes are held there. I feel very fortunate. Great for class community, presentations, group work and discussion!

Naturally, my first day on campus is a bit anxiety producing. It's just my temperament, but also, I see few people during breaks and in addition to owl mode, I develop a touch of agoraphobia. But, one day back cures it. It's always a trip to be swarmed in campus center, though - by students absorbed by smart phones. (That's trip almost literally, btw - I have to be careful or they will bump into me and make me fall, what with my leg brace and awkward gate.) To avoid the stairs to the lecture center level, I took the tunnel. When full of students it is almost worse than campus center, in terms of getting run over. When empty, it has a high creepiness factor -- maybe I have watched too much Criminal Minds! Anyway, I think I will walk outside and brave the stairs next time.

The other thing driving my worry yesterday was the animals -- the gate was up, so Sophie can't fall, but how would they fare without me for the long day? Would Sophie be OK? Would Sam mind not being able to go to the kitchen? Would TB/TC be able to get through the gate if he needed to? The answers turned out to be: Just fine, Yes, No and Yes, so there was no cause for concern. What a relief!

Eagerly awaiting my new machine.

2012-01-23T18:00:00.000-05:00

2012-01-23T13:01:00.009-05:00

Sophie has been doing well since her vet visit, seems to be over pancreatitis. She's been taking a handful of supplements since her surgery in November '10, and now she is taking even more. But, she has a hearty appetite and pills are not a problem.

She's never had an easy time with stairs, with up being harder for her than down. She has not been up to the bedroom level in the house for about 8 years. They are very steep and narrow, and she doesn't even try to go up. But in the days when she did, we had to "spot" her when she was coming down.

She was terrified of going up the stairs from the kitchen to the living room when we first got her, and it took many weeks of coaxing to get her to do it. Then, for the past few years, we've often had to entice her to go up the stairs when she was in the kitchen. The difficulty is that the staircase has a turn at the top. That part should be easier, because the stairs are triangles, wide enough to hold her whole, long body - but there must be a psychological barrier.

We blocked the stairs to the kitchen with a baby gate after she had her surgery, but eventually she was able to go down there again. (And get back upstairs when there was a treat waiting for her at the top.)

Several months ago, we noticed that one problem was getting started - she had trouble with the first step. Years ago, we had a set-up that turned a twin bed into a couch. We still have the pillows, although we don't use them on the day bed any longer. But they are very handy, and one made a perfect booster for Sophie to use as a launching pad for the stairs.

Very recently, it became clear that she can't go up the stairs any more. She gets stuck at the turn, and even a treat isn't enough. She could be manually boosted, but if we are not here, that won't work. She is very calm and careful, but the risk of her falling seemed great. Then, after a few times where it was difficult, she decided she wouldn't even try to go up. She's fifty pounds, too heavy for either of us to carry.

Getting down is still no problem, but we can't leave her in the kitchen. It's a cold room, and she has never liked it, although she still wants to go down there sometimes. There's a water bowl in the living room and I feed her there too, so the main attraction is that the door to the fenced yard is in the kitchen. We have been leash walking her on the sidewalk in front of the house, but she's not satisfied. She wants to go in the yard.

This house is three stories, and the yard is down one from the street level. There is a steep staircase, and a steep hill. We arrived at a solution; we take her out of the fenced area on her leash, around the house, and scale the hill to street level. (She can't do the outside stairs either.) The slope of the hill isn't an issue; she's very low to the ground and sure footed, like a mountain goat. Watching her long body and short legs go up the hill in her coat with her serious face and those ears -- so precious!

So, since Thursday, this is what we have been doing. Another triangle pillow is blocking the door from the living room to the stairs, so that she can't go down to the kitchen unless we let her and are prepared to make the trek. We have the baby gate, but Bob isn't planning to put it up until tonight. On Friday, when I did the hill, the climb for me in the snow was so precarious, that I decided I would use the stairs in the future, and let her navigate the hill on her own. That was my plan for today -- but not until later this afternoon, once the freezing rain stopped.

Here's how my morning actually played out:

1) awakened by the sound of Sophie barking
2) it sounds like it is coming from the kitchen
3) she managed to scale the triangle pillow?
4) it was not at all disturbed
5) the action did not wake me up
6) check futon to be sure
7) yep, only a rumpled blanket
8) she was stealth!
9) Sam awakens and comes into the room
10) so he did not help?
11) Ted is asleep at foot of day bed
12) so he did not help?
13) scramble downstairs to be sure she is OK
14) wearing only sleeping shirt
15) no panties, sweatpants, socks, shoes*
16) she is fine
17) she lays on futon while I dress
18) give her SOD
19) have coffee
20) let Sam out & back in
21) mailman comes
22) I get her and my outdoor gear
23) she happily cooperates while I put on her collar, leash, coat
24) she considers going upstairs
25) makes it as far as front feet on triangle pillow, then changes her mind
26) Sam, Sophie and I go outside
27) Sam plays with plush devil squeaky toy
28) jumps over Sophie on his way in when she wants to go inside
29) I slam the door behind him
30) takes some coaxing,but we get to the gate
31) we do the drill to the garden
32) she does more sniffing than last time I did this
33) tries to pull me down the hill when we are at the corner of the garden
34) I have to hang onto the garden post, but eventually I win
35) we make our way to the really steep part
36) she gets started up
37) I scramble to the steps
38) they are not slippery, yay
39) so glad I shoveled them!
40) by this point she is already on the sidewalk
41) there she goes, up the sidewalk toward the front door, dragging her leash
42) I get to the sidewalk
43) it is a sheet of ice!
44) I can't stand up
45) I crawl on my hands and knees to the front door
46) please God, don't let the neighbors see me right now
47) Sophie is already waiting at the door
48) we come inside
49) she gets settled on the futon
50) Sam is not as upset as he has been by the appearance of her, but not his, leash
51) he knows the story now
52) I read the rock salt bag and determine it is safe for dogs
53) ask Sophie and she tells me that Mother with a broken leg is worse than sore pads
54) I salt the sidewalk

*this is more impressive if you know that for the past decade, I never go without socks, shoes and orthotics unless I am asleep.

2012-01-21T14:36:00.000-05:00

False alarm! The only thing that shipped -- the speakers! So it will be another week before I have my new PC. :-(

Snowed today. Hardly worth mentioning, in a year like last winter. Two inches? That was nothing. But, in a remarkably snow-free winter, it seems like a shoveling chore!

2012-01-20T16:05:00.000-05:00

My computer shipped and should be here tomorrow! YAY. So I'll be back in business soon.

2012-01-18T20:11:00.003-05:00

I threw in the towel and ordered a new PC. I'm all about opportunity costs of my time right now. It will be here next week, but until then I have to rely mostly on the laptop when I am home. I hate the keyboard, can't type on it for ... Can't wait until the new machine arrives, but I refused to pay $50 for faster shipping. A week or so isn't that long. So glad I have been copying old writing to this blog, photos to facebook and made the little Mimmie book for Ma's birthday. Or else so much of it would be lost. I do have a lot of flashdrives, though. All unlabeled of course!

Her actual date was Thursday, and I gave her the book on Friday, but we celebrated Ma's birthday on Sunday. Stopped at Shop Rite in New Paltz on the way home from the funeral on Saturday to buy ice cream to go with the cake. It's a small, worn out market that appears to cater to students -- Bob joked, "it's right up our alley." (Which is true.)

It's been a long time since I bought any brand of ice cream besides Stewart's. I picked up a -- what is it? It certainly isn't a half-gallon -- bigger than quart / smaller than half gallon of Breyer's and was shocked by both the size of the carton and the price (over four bucks)! With our large group of ice cream lovers*, I would have had to buy two. It really hit home, what the homemade signs in Stewart's assert - they still make half gallons and the value beats all competitors. Luckily, there are two Stewart's between New Paltz and Samsonville, so we stopped at one and the flavor of the week was just the kind I'd planned to buy: vanilla, chocolate, strawberry -- a real half gallon for $3.19. You go, Stewart's!

Also: Watched Cuomo's budget address. Wasn't as funny as the SoS! But some of the things he says really hit home.

Finally, I'm all ready for my classes to start tomorrow. That's saying something, what with the computer crash! And I submitted the Winter Session grades today.

*It's true, demonstrated by my father having a soft ice cream shop in the '60s known as Dino's Kwik Stop -- but that's a story for another day.

2012-01-17T22:54:00.001-05:00

What would a new semester be without a computer crash? My main desktop decided to act up suddenly this evening. Won't even go into safe mode. I tried a few things then immediately cut my losses. I am reformatting and reinstalling Windows now. It means some data loss but I don't have time to spend endless hours figuring out another fix. Keep your fingers crossed! Or else I will be PC shopping.

2012-01-17T18:32:00.001-05:00

In addition to the flowers, there were posters with pictures and a slideshow on a television at the funeral home on Saturday. Sitting there, I had a strong sensation of a scene in the movie Vertigo, the one where Madeleine touches the Redwood tree rings and says, “Here I was born and here I died. It was only a moment."

Taking off the long weekend is really going to make this week more difficult than usual! Classes start Thursday, and I am rushing to finish up Winter Session grades and be ready. But I needed the break, the change of scenery that Samsonville provides.

2012-01-14T00:07:00.006-05:00

Here is the surprise I have been keeping! I wanted to give my mother a copy for her birthday before announcing it:

A Visit with Mimmie: Catskill Mountain Recipes by Gina Giuliano

I write from Samsonville. Lovely snow cover here, although it is only a couple of inches at most. The temperature has turned colder in both Castleton and here, and I'm glad. It isn't just that I like winter. (I like all the seasons.) Everyone is sick, and I think the too warm for winter temperatures have been a contributing factor.

I have several things I want to write, but I should be in bed! I have to be up, ready and in the car at ~7, because Bob's uncle died and we are going to the funeral in Long Island. This far into winter break I am deep into "owl," and 6 in the morning is more likely to be my bed time than when I awaken!

Speaking of winter break, I didn't really have one since I taught a winter session online class, which ended today. I was apprehensive, but it was a very enjoyable experience. Size had something to do with it, since it was my smallest section ever: 10 students! I've already been asked to do it again next year, and I said yes immediately.

The difficulties I have been having with accounts receivable were helpful in a way. It freed me; I thought about the opportunity costs of my time, and decided I wanted to create the little book I've linked above rather than spend more time consulting. So that's one thing I did this break besides teaching.

Another is nursing Sophie. She's been kind of sick since November, and had a really bad night New Year's Eve. She is about 13, has never been robust because of her allergies, and then had to have surgery in November '10 because she has tumors of the hair follicles and two were causing problems. Basset Hounds are not generally long-lived dogs, but she has fooled us all. We finally took her to our wonderful holistic vet, expecting bad news. It turns out she does not have a life threatening illness. She had pancreatitis, and for the past week she has been doing great!

Finally, my writings on school districts have attracted attention. They nearly always do. I think my views create alarm, because generally dissenters aren't experts in the field (or alumni). An effort is always made to co-opt me, which simply isn't possible. I am a way, way out of the box thinker on educational issues.

More later. I have to get some sleep!

2012-01-12T12:36:00.001-05:00

Another letter today supporting so-called "bookends!" "Recent ELA test scores at a 55 percent and 42 percent passing rate for our seventh- and eighth-graders respectively, show we need to better prepare our children at the elementary level for middle school." and "So, let us bring our children together when they are in fourth grade, a time when they are socially and emotionally more open to making new friends, rather than in seventh grade, when they are experiencing the social and emotional angst of adolescents desperate to fit in with a whole new set of peers."

To this I say, the bookend approach does not erase the difficult transition -- it's still there, the change to the big school with 9-12 graders. It simply adds another! Why would this increase ELA achievement, rather than exacerbating the problem and moving its appearance to a younger grade? As well as generating myriad other issues in learning?

2012-01-11T19:51:00.005-05:00

It is so frustrating to me that research and reality are ignored in favor of anecdotal NIMBY. It is to be expected that some families in the community will be ruled by the emotion of self-interest instead of logic, but when the administrators and board join in, it leaves me shaking my head.

Here's the article from the Freeman. Those savings are awfully hard to reconcile and decipher, aren't they? This seems like the worst of all worlds to me: increasing class size as well as the number of transitions! How is this defensible? Whose agenda is being served here? Oh, I guess this must be who:

Here's exhibit 1, from a parent in the district. An approach which has been labeled "bookend" is favored. It keeps all three elementary schools open, but chops them into two K-3 and a 4-6. "This model is superior for our younger children and changes the age at which the transition is made to a more demanding social and academic environment."

Hello! What evidence is there that this approach is superior? Transitions are not good for students, and the so-called bookend approach increases the number of transitions in the district from one to two. Transition is obviously not the only significant factor for achievement, or even the most important one. But the research is a concern: "Every transition from one narrowly configured school to another seems to disrupt the social structure in which learning takes place, lowering achievement and participation for many students" (Howley, 2002). Alspaugh (1998) found that "an increase in the number of school-to-school transitions within a school district is associated with an increase in the high school dropout rate."

Here's exhibit 2, from another parent. The bookend approach is also supported. "A couple of years ago, when First Steps enrollment was way, way down, I may have bought the "freefall decline in enrollment" concept. But the 2011-2012 year has seen, far and away, the most kids I’ve played to in the four years I’ve gone there. These kids and others will be arriving on Onteora’s doorstep next fall."

Oh yeah? An anecdotal story about a nursery school is supposed to be persuasive? Take a look at this, from the Cornell Program on Applied Demographics. The trend is crystal clear. Also this from Cornell. The list of districts is long, so here's the data on OCS:

	Census 2000	ACS 2005-2009	Change	Change (%)
Total pop	16,112	15,372	-740	-4.6%
Age 0-17	3,387	2,528	-859	-25.4%

It's pretty clear that population ages 0-17 is plummeting dramatically -- more than 25 percent in a decade. Using the middle range projections in the first Cornell link, enrollment is projected to be 1382 in 2019. Moving to two schools plus one school in '12-'13, using 2009 figures, that means 54 students per school in Kindergarten (same a closing one school entirely), and 120 in Grade 4 (using 2009's first graders). Two sections per school of 27 students each for Kindergarten, and X teachers for Grade 4 in one school. (How many? 5 @ 24 students per class? 4 @ 30 students per class? 6 @ 20 students per class?) Elementary enrollment is currently 47 percent of K-12, and Kindergarten is 14 percent of K-6. Fast forward to 2019, it will be 91 students in Kindergarten. Divided into 2 schools, that is 45.5 kids per school, too many for one class. So it would be 2 classes per school of 22.75 kids each. In Grade 4 in 2019, where enrollment is also currently about 14 percent of K-6 enrollment, so another 91 students. I can't imagine the thought is 3 teachers per grade with 30 students each in grades 4-6? I know that was common during the baby boom but it isn't something I see very often now. There are far too many special needs. So that means it must be 4 teachers per grade (same as closing a school?), but in one school. Again, how is this beneficial? Just because it keeps all the buildings open?

There is no sound academic argument for taking this approach instead. It obviously isn't class size, and adding in an extra early transition isn't beneficial. Personally, I see potential value in having only two elementary schools. The kids would get to know each other very early, in Kindergarten. They would go to school together always. It might help to decrease the factionalism that is, and has been pervasive.

Gathering this information wasn't difficult. It should be a no-brainer for the administrators and board. Or do they have it and are ignoring it?

I repeat, I see a future where one central campus is all that is needed. It's sad, yes. (Except for the decrease in factionalism which I predict would be the outcome, even more so with one central campus.) Whenever buildings are shuttered it is sad. Yes, I fondly remember the way the district was when I was a kid, four elementaries feeding the 7-12. (I have to add, though, that the transition to junior high wasn't easy at all.) However, delaying the inevitable by draining resources to serve the agenda of the board and a few parents is not beneficial to the district -- including, and most importantly, the students. Buildings are going to have to be shuttered, and eventually wings removed at the 7-12 as well. Quit procrastinating and start planning.

Something I came across while browsing is this very clear and nicely done powerpoint from NYSED.

On a completely unrelated topic, today's column is great. I don't have one of these coffee makers, but I do have a Black and Decker cup at a time. I love it. About 10 years ago, Bob gave up coffee, as part of his alternative therapy for RA. He was a big coffee drinker and always made it. I have only consumed one, or (on rare occasions) at most two, cups of coffee per day so a traditional 10 cup coffee maker was useless. I didn't like microwaving day-old coffee, and I didn't like throwing it away. So I got a cup at a time. It uses any kind of coffee you want (I prefer Maxwell House) and it has a permanent filter. I love it! Well worth $10. But, the point about making multiple cups is definitely true! I have to keep an old 12 cup model that I dust off when I have guests.

2012-01-10T14:28:00.000-05:00

The Crossing (1998)

I was on the train, waiting to leave the Rensselaer station. I love trains and train rides, but I wished I'd brought my portfolio to write in instead of the pad I was using; the university logo is so obvious, plus it's flimsy, I thought. Sitting on a motionless train is not nearly as inspiring as riding one, it seemed. Ahead of me, I overheard a passenger tell another that he was headed for Oregon and San Francisco. I was going for a ride of just an hour, to Poughkeepsie.

On the way back to Albany, later that day, I notice. There is a phenomenon which has finally penetrated trains: cell phones, as obnoxious there as everywhere else. Fellow passengers read magazines (mostly business or computer) and newspapers -- the more literate read books. The businessman across from me was chatting on his cell phone while writing on a lined pad. Is he writing fiction or an essay, like I am, or some boring piece of work-related tedium?, I wonder. The cell phone gave him away. The train sped along the edge of the Hudson River, the color of the autumn leaves growing in intensity as we traveled north.

Soon we will breeze through Castleton, and I will think, as I always do, of the un-gated crossing by the paper factory, of the train filled with business people, impatient to reach their destinations, of the young man's body thrown 100 feet in the air as the train ripped through his blue 1995 pick-up truck, smashing it -- and him -- beyond recognition. Were the passengers delayed on their way to New York City? Did the impact dent the train? Did that man, who was -- according to his obituary, a long-time employee of the factory, and who owned a dog named Bailey, really think he could beat the southbound train, which was going about 110 miles per hour? Did he think so because he had done it before? Do the workers at the factory still play that ghastly game of racing the train, or do the blue ribbons, now faded and worn as they hang, limp, from the fence near the tracks at the entrance to the factory, remind them of the folly?

Yesterday, on the way to work, the road was partially blocked. Something had fallen on the tracks at that un-gated crossing and a dozen railroad employees scrambled to clear it away before the 9:05 thundered through. I wondered if the commotion was caused by another accident. Perhaps a tractor trailer had ripped in half, the way it was a few years ago, when massive rolls of paper flew through the air, smashing a car and
the corner of a nearby building, though everyone involved was unhurt. Certainly not another fatality involving a regular car, I hoped.

Later in the day, I forgot to look for the answer in the newspaper. Assuming there was a story in the newspaper, that is.

2012-01-09T12:24:00.000-05:00

Mark Twain should be censored and using integration of social studies with math is the excuse for these word problems? They didn't mean any harm? Are you kidding me? What an upside down world we live in. This is so outrageous it seems as if it can't be true.

2012-01-08T16:32:00.001-05:00

I'n not a sports enthusiast, least of all a football fan, so maybe I shouldn't have an opinion on this, but when I heard on the news last night that they planned to do this, I thought it was a crazy idea. How distracting would that be for the players? So I think the prohibition due to copyright is probably a good thing. If not being able to watch the game is such an issue, why not bring a tablet or smartphone? How silly that this is a problem. Why can't people just be present -- instead of so addicted to the big screen that they can't bear to miss one game. DVR it, for pete's sake. It is ridiculous -- just stay home and plug in; watch others living, rather than living yourself.

Now this a little strange given my remarks about plugging in rather than living. Here goes anyway! I am psyched that Downton Abbey Series II starts tonight!

2012-01-07T19:16:00.002-05:00

Lots to write, but my attention has been elsewhere. It will keep, some may have to keep forever.

2012-01-05T16:43:00.000-05:00

Happy birthday to Bob! Today he is 52. (He looks ten years younger.) I am treating him to Cafe Capriccio. He toyed with going to Great Barrington, Lenox or Lee, MA, but settled on Albany. We may eat out routinely, but not at Cafe Capriccio very often. Greens and beans to die for! Can't wait.

2012-01-04T18:03:00.003-05:00

I watched Governor Cuomo's State of the State speech earlier today. Things that struck me:

The two religious messages both mentioned toleration!
I liked the Governor's slideshow
Irene / Lee and first responders, nice touch
The bit about 53 years ago, before he was a twinkle in his father's eye, when Skelos was 4 and Silver was 8, was very funny
The convention center / transformation of the Javits center wasn't on my radar screen. Maybe I haven't been paying attention?
Buffalo revitalization +
Tourism +
Gaming. (Makes my skin crawl.) I guess that was the point, sort of hello, yes, it's icky, but we are in denial, we already have it but just manage it badly. Still, for me, a -. Also, any time amending the constitution is mentioned, it scares me.
The rest of it, on reorganization, education, public safety, expansion of SUNY2020, construction, energy was fine, in some cases expected, even unremarkable although I did appreciate management evaluation being an emphasis too, not just teacher assessment. And I did like that he said he would be the lobbyist for students, since they are the only unrepresented group in the mix. (Good slides on that too.)
No finger printing for food stamps -- surprising, something I never thought about -- seems like a small thing, and he was passionate about it.
Yay CSI!
The close was outstanding. Truly awesome. I think he may be the best speaker and leader on the scene at present -- and in a long time. I love NY!
The most surprising thing was what was omitted: fracking! Why? Could it be that either the science isn't holding up or the push back is significant?

2012-01-03T20:21:00.000-05:00

2012-01-03T18:09:00.001-05:00

I have two things on my mind, both complicated. Due to my self-censorship rules, I am not at liberty to share every excruciating detail in either case, even though in both cases it would be good for me to vent, and they provide rich sources to mine for writing inspiration. Oh well. So here are the Cliff Notes for the Reader's Digest Condensed Version: First, I received a phone call last night from a troubled childhood friend who I am not in touch with very often. This happens every few years. I am never sure how the situation will play out. The call wasn't long, but contained so much information my head it spinning. Pity I can't write more, but "it is what is is." The story continues, and who knows what the ending will be. Second, I hate accounts receivable. I suck at being a collection agent. I'm having an intermittent, on-going problem in this area. Net 30 is beyond a joke, it would be a dream. What to do, I don't have a clue. It's why being completely self-employed would be nearly impossible for me.

2012-01-02T16:11:00.000-05:00

Happy New Year! Stayed in this year, watched Dick Clark on television. Mine is mostly better, but Bob is battling a cold. It's amateur night anyway.

Yesterday we went to a garage party at my nephew's. It was fun.

Very excited -- I am working on a project that I will share in a couple weeks -- can't write about it now since it is a surprise.

2011-12-30T14:54:00.001-05:00

Facebook is freaking me out. First, some "friends" post stuff they shouldn't. TMI. And, people post political pieces. (I was going to end with "rants" instead, blame irresistible alliteration.) Shut up! I recently tagged one friend's emails as spam for this reason, so now they will go straight to the trash. Years ago, I tried asking to not receive that sort of thing, and the sender was offended! So spam it is.

In recent semesters, I have been asked to write letters of recommendation for a few students who are different than the normal reference seeker. Usually, students who ask me have taken more than one class with me, and achieved A or A- in them. They have GPA >= 3.0. Within that general parameter, they fall into two camps; 1) perfectly fine student who didn't stand out in any way so that I don't feel I know them that well, and 2) perfectly fine student who is memorable in some way - extra hard working, extra charismatic, extra good writer, extra clever ideas, etc. I have a positive, sort-of form-ish memo that I use in the first instance, and I write something special for the second.

But recently, for the first time I have been asked by students who have taken one class with me and got B or B+. This is one of their highest grades, and their GPA < 3.0...way less than 3.0, in fact. Are you kidding me?

So, I'm honest and tell them that they are unlikely to get into graduate school immediately after graduation with those grades, that low GPA is the most common reason for being denied admission. That my class and my recommendation are not strong enough to stand alone. That it is not a life sentence without parole -- they should get experience, take nondegree classes, grow up, and apply down the road. I think I am saving them time, money, and disappointment, but still they want my reference and to take the risk. OK, but what do they think the letter will say?

Caught up on all else, so I am working on research this afternoon. It's a task I'm finding difficult because I receive no feedback. I have to find a way to overcome that obstacle.

2011-12-29T17:59:00.001-05:00

I lightened the Christmas pictures. Howie was the champ at gift opening -- truly without peer, he LOVED opening packages and anticipated holidays impatiently. But all my dogs have opened presents, and Sam and Sophie keep up the tradition:

They love their gifts:

A new plush squeaky toy!

A soft wooly blanket!

TB/TC didn't open the package (Sam did him the favor), but he has been laying on his activity mat nonstop:

2011-12-28T17:16:00.005-05:00

Efficiently clearing my plate to do what? That is always the question that presents itself. What do I most want to spend time on? The choices are tantalizing.

Casting around for something to write here, considered the following:

1) I respect Meryl Streep, believe she is extremely talented and I like most of the movies she has been in, but I can't stand pretentious Hollywood awards programs. Yuck. "Greatest" is compared to what? I think Pollack said late 20th Century, fine, even no contest. But this morning a headline on AOL (that I now can't find) was asserting someone said greatest of all time? How could anyone alive possibly know? It seems so now-centric, as if all other times don't mean a thing. Or is that because it is so now-centric that the comparison is early or mid 20th Century (ie, Katharine Hepburn)? And what's with the sexist greatest actress stuff anyway? Hasn't language evolved so that those in the craft prefer just "actor" for both genders now?

2) In other Hollywood news, Cheetah, a chimp who might have been in Tarzan movies, has died at a sanctuary at age 80. I never watched Tarzan, hardly watched TV as a kid, in fact. But still, this seems notable. For me, because of the animal, of course. The pictures show a wonderful elderly face. I wanted to learn more, was frustrated by the dearth of information. Discovered that much of this is "alleged;" some insist chimps can't live to be 80, others assert the roles were composites, records were poor or nonexistent, and there is no way to know if any particular chimp was in a movie. Regardless, there is not much on this Cheetah, except that he was undoubtedly old, lived in a Florida sanctuary (that seems to have been started by retired circus performers), and died recently. The detective in me is fired up. It should be relatively easy to discover if he did indeed come to the sanctuary from Johnny Weissmuller's estate fifty years ago, wouldn't you think?

The absence of details reminded me of what I wrote here, about Myrtle McSpirit.

And that reminds me of this, from A Visit with Mimmie: Catskill Mountain Recipes:

Ann K. Eckert, 88. How can someone's life be reduced to a couple of inches and a small headline in a newspaper column? There seems to be nothing odd, aside from the obvious, about obituaries until a loved one dies, and then a front-page story is not enough.

Among Mimmie's possessions, my mother discovered an old photograph and a letter. Mimmie is about seventeen years old in the photo and she is with a young man. Years later, in 1938, long after she had married and moved to West Shokan, Arthur Johnson wrote to her and enclosed the picture.

I have a copy of a cookbook which is inscribed: "To Gina on her Wedding Day. With much love and many happy memories of the good times we have had together. Mimmie." And from several years later, a letter: "Hope you will have a very Happy Anniversary. It will be your seventh won't it? As you know I am very happy with my granddaughter and her husband "A lovely couple."

Mimmie. That single word says more to me than a front-page story ever could. I have been told that "mimmie" was coined by my oldest brother, too little to say the word "grandma" clearly. And so she was "Mimmie" to us, and never "Grandma."

Inspired by Mimmie's wedding gift to me, by the collection of recipes which my mother gave me after Mimmie's death in 1993, and by Mimmie's occupation as a cook, I originally envisioned a cookbook. The text soon began to lead me as I wrote it, "over the river and through the woods." It took shape, becoming an account of rural life, a guidebook of household hints, gardening ideas and delicious recipes.

But this transformation is appropriate. Mimmie was a fine cook; she loved flowers; and to her, cleanliness truly was close to Godliness. Most important of all, she was an avid reader until shortly before her death, when failing eyesight prevented enjoyment of her favorite hobby. Those of us who shared her love for reading would recommend a book, or take a recommendation; later we would steal happy moments, sitting at her kitchen table in the sanctuary of her home, discussing its contents.

"Janette came to visit me a few days ago, and brought me the book you gave her for her birthday, Ironweed. I have finished it and thought it interesting. I gave her the one to read that you gave me by Patti Davis. I thought that very good and enjoyed it."

Mimmie rarely went out; she preferred to be home with her cats and her plants and her books. For someone with so focused a view, her taste in books was broad, and included both fiction and non-fiction. She devoured the books we brought her, whether they were mysteries, romance novels, household hints, humor, best sellers or academic publications. She especially enjoyed biographies of former politicians.

What is the single most important thing that you are doing now? "I guess the most important is visiting with Anna. Certainly that seems like it's most important. That's real. Books isn't (laughs), which is what I like to do next. I think I feel better if I've visited with her for three or four hours, then she went home all happy, then I set there reading a book."

"Still read a little, read a good book about Lincoln that (Aunt) Jean sent me. Never got the book you wrote about, The Beans. But will this winter."

"No books at the present time. Miss you."

2011-12-28T00:02:00.003-05:00

The best thing about winter (and summer) break - I am still teaching but don't have to go to campus - is that I can revert to my preferred natural state...sleep in and stay up late. My winter session class is turning out to be very manageable, eleven students. I am taking care of some lingering details from Fall '11, but soon I will be able to turn my attention to things I save for break and its leisurely owl pace.

Cold is improving, but still annoying.

Several weeks ago, when I was observing an elementary school class, one student had brought in large stuffed animal snake. I realized I had the same one when I was a kid, a beloved long-forgotten toy. In my mind’s eye it was pink rather than yellow/orange but I could be wrong on that detail. I even remembered for a moment playing with my room full of stuffed animals, arranging them all on the carpet, the snake like the one in the classroom, the deer with the false eyelashes, the big fuzzy pink dog I called “Spoofer,” the smaller dog I called “Pocket Nose,” Vincent Van Gopher with the hard face (who was really my brother’s), sitting among them, pretending we were a community in the woods.

2011-12-27T00:02:00.001-05:00

Back home early this evening. Bob is sick now too. I will be very surprised if he is the only one who didn't escape. Makes me feel kind of guilty! But I couldn't stay away at Christmas (even though I would be willing -- only to spare others from this plague!). We are going through cases of tissues. Back to routine tomorrow, week two of my winter session class.

2011-12-25T00:04:00.005-05:00

I have another cold! Came down with it Thursday -- spent the day in denial, and the night in misery. Any time I do a school visit, that seems to be what happens. The elementary school kids are always sick, and never kept home when they are. I must be susceptible ever since I had the dental-visit caused sinus problems over the summer. What a drag!

In spite of this (and remember I am a bad patient -- pathetic, in fact), I managed to get through the day. Up early to see Bob off (he's visiting his family, which with their move farther east is a trip I no longer make on holidays), open house at my sister's and then church. I hope I didn't give this illness to anyone -- I tried to be careful, no hugging, flashed the peace sign instead of handshaking.

Last night we put up our Samsonville tree (as you can see), wrapped gifts, and -- since the risk that they would unwrap the finished packages under the tree that were not for them was great otherwise -- gave the animals their presents. All got edible treats, plus Sam got toys, Sophie got new blankets, TB/TC got what I think must be his first toy ever and he loves it! Pictures of the festivities coming eventually. (Similar to the tree photo, they are too dark to post unedited, and I am not fixing them right now.)

My mother says the horses have hay on their knees Christmas morning because at midnight they kneel, and her favorite always has the most. I have never personally witnessed this miracle, but I have no reason to doubt her. So I didn't have to risk pneumonia and hoof it out to the barn in the cold and dark tonight to verify her story; I know that's what they are doing as I write this.

Tomorrow: Big dinner at my parents'. Then crashing!

Merry Christmas!

2011-12-22T13:40:00.001-05:00

In Search of MAD (1998)

There should be a shower stall at the end of the magazine aisle at Coulson's convenience store, or at the very least a hose for rinsing off. Coulson's has the best magazine selection around; luckily, The Writer, my favorite -- and the only one I buy faithfully every month -- is near the ice cream cooler, right as you enter the magazine area. It's funny, not in the ha-ha way, but in the strange way, that this obscure little magazine is there among the popular and trendy section. Its neighbors are George, The Advocate, The New Yorker and Redbook.

In a way, Coulson's reminds me of "Skin's," which was the general store I visited daily as a kid in my hometown. The store's real name was "Davis' Store," but everyone referred to it by the nick-name of its owner, Lester (Skin) Davis. Skin ran that place for years; my mother recalled sitting there, on the front porch eating candy, just like I did in the ‘70s, and just like the kids did after I went off to college. When I was a teenager, a new sign was installed at Skin's, and "Edna's and Skin's Store" was painted on it rather than "Davis' Store," to acknowledge, I suppose, that Skin's wife was always working in there, too. You'd suppose an early feminist like me would have taken pleasure in that enlightened sign, but instead it seemed inaccurate, because we continued to call the store simply "Skin's," as always.

Skin sold newspapers, but not magazines. Coulson's, on the other hand, stocks every magazine in the world. A strange mixture of homeless people and well-dressed men from nearby banks and state offices frequent Coulson's for lottery tickets, quarts of beer, cigarettes and Hostess Twinkies. While there they crowd the magazine aisle; I'm not sure if any copies are purchased, but Coulson's rivals the library for how many times each periodical is read. As you travel down the aisle, past the popular section, to craft, home decor and computer magazines, then to automotive magazines, on top of the rack at the end there is pornography, seductively calling out "pick me up! look at me!" to the businessmen and bums, who are more than happy to oblige.

Today I am gathering copies of likely markets for my essays. Hudson Valley, House Beautiful, McCall's, first section, no problem. Wow, they even have Village Voice. One publication is left on my list. Long ago I dreamed of writing for MAD, and that particular magazine remains. "Coulson's has everything; of course they have MAD!", I think. I struggle past the assorted men, trying to avoid brushing their suits and ties, or alternately tee shirts and jeans, with my dress, venturing further down the aisle than I usually dare. Ugh, I am up to the car section. "Damn!," I whisper to myself. Comics are in the last section, across from porno. "Excuse me," I say out loud to a man who is squatting at the end of the row, as I lean down to retrieve the magazine. I try not to see what he is skimming. "Sure," he says, hopping aside a bit, but not removing his eyes from the page.

I purchase my copies and leave Coulson's in a hurry. I haven't seen a copy of MAD in twenty-five years, so I eagerly flip through it as I wait at the light for a break in traffic. It is exactly as I remember; Alfred E. Newman, Spy v. Spy, gags about the media. Suddenly I realize there is a very good reason for the familiarity; it is a reprint of one of MAD's earlier issues. Tomorrow I must return to Coulson's to get the current issue. Now where is my pepper spray?

2011 note: In about 2000, The Writer was sold to Kalmbach publishing, and its offices moved from Boston to Wisconsin. Gradually, all of the magazine's attributes were stripped away, and the change justified as modern improvement. The once-delightfully humble magazine became a pale imitation of Writer's Digest, and I stopped reading it.

2011-12-22T13:23:00.000-05:00

I had hoped to print up copies of this photo and send them in the mail as this year's Christmas card (we only received about a dozen this year), but neither of my color printers would cooperate. I spent a few hours Tuesday night, and few more yesterday, and no luck. First, I had to hunt for the photo paper. Then, the photo printer has a couple of cartridges that are past the expiration date -- so even though they are not empty, the printer won't print. My all-in-one doesn't need a cartridge change, but it would if I wanted to print in really high quality -- and I don't have a spare color cartridge. So I guess I am not sending cards this year!

2011-12-19T23:47:00.005-05:00

Just entered grades, a day before the deadline! Yay! I finished this afternoon, but I like to set them aside and wait a few hours before submitting. Tomorrow, a school visit for my research, then off to Lee, MA for some fun.

2011-12-19T10:55:00.002-05:00

2011 Castleton Tree

I cut my nails Saturday, shortly before putting the tree up. They were incredibly long. I let my nails grow until one breaks, then I cut them. Occasionally, as was the case Saturday, none has broken for a very long time, and I let them go. They don't really get in the way of typing, washing dishes, or gardening, because they are strong. However, eventually I notice they are a distraction to people. This has been true for about the past two weeks, as students in my classes, colleagues at the end of semester luncheon, and friends are mesmerized as I talk with my hands, and when that happens the attention starts to render me self-conscious and finally mute.

Bob advises to paint them instead of cutting them, but I can't figure out how having them bright pink or red would do anything but cause them to be more riveting - and also make them go from rather weird to extremely tacky. I don't dye my hair or wear make-up, as if I would sport fake nails (which is what abandoning natural would make them seem, I think). Regardless, the other motivation to cut them is that once they are this long, there is always the risk that a painfully short break will occur. So they had to go. I tend to procrastinate even once the decision has been made that the time is now, because it isn't that easy a task -- I have to set aside time to do it, as filing the sharp points after I cut them requires patience.

Anyway, that is a long, tedious preamble to this: while putting up the tree, somehow I jabbed myself, whether needle or ornament hook or something else I am not sure, and my left pinkie nail suddenly was soaked in blood. It took a while to get it stopped, and even today, my finger is sore. Maybe if I still had my sturdy talon it wouldn't have happened!

2011-12-18T17:35:00.003-05:00

Bob's 2011 creation

I am in such good shape grading-wise that I took the weekend off. That wasn't exactly my plan, but that's the way it worked out. Regardless, I will be done after a full day of work tomorrow, and that will be a full day before the Tuesday deadline.

My winter session class starts tomorrow officially, but it has been ready for two weeks. Students started to login on Friday. I think finals were done on Thursday so I guess that's why they didn't access the class sooner.

Yesterday we put up our tree. We got it from the boy scouts as we always do, fresh cut. It is a tiny scotch pine. For the past few years we have been getting small trees that we can put on a table, but this year's is especially diminutive. I will post a picture eventually. The plan is to put up a tree in Samsonville on Friday, a native pine cut from the yard as usual.

2011-12-16T13:34:00.001-05:00

Status Sort (1998)

There is a worn path in the carpet, extending from the door of my office, around my desk, to the printer beside my computer. It wasn't there when I moved to this office three years ago, saying perhaps as much about the prior occupant, J.S.M., and the one before him, J.W.S., as it does about me. Does the printer show it too, I wonder, some extra shine on the plastic, bearing witness to pressure from countless elbows? My visitors always lean there as they face me to talk, while I sit at my computer.

Lately that path is quickly becoming more threadbare. A new regime. Retirements. A transfer. Accelerated game playing. Fear. Redistribution of work, combined with more draconian rules for the clerical staff, but correspondingly very little change among the professionals. "You're the only college-educated person I know who doesn't look down on us," H.C. says from her place by the printer. I am touched, but remind her that it isn't true, it's just that this is a very stratified place. It's as if the database coding table that we use to identify campuses -- doctoral on top, comprehensive next, specialized next, community next -- is mirrored in our staff. A trivial but poignant illustration is that professionals in our office invariably use three initials, while members of the support staff use two. With the exception of me, of course, since among other reasons, the "M" would ruin the alliteration of my name.

"Let's all go out to breakfast together at the Miss Albany Diner," says department head R.A.L., trying, and genuinely I think, to implement some idea he learned from a management article. But the clerical staff doesn't want to go, and they start making excuses and plans to take the day off. The senior professionals wouldn't want to go either, but can't resist the temptation to bask in his glow. Staff meeting. "Is the breakfast only for the senior staff?" asks a timid junior professional. The question is ignored by all but me. "No, no," I quickly respond, "this isn't a status sort," and then I can't resist the opportunity to skewer our new provost's directive about using titles by teasing, "Staff Assistant T.J.M." There is surprised laughter from all at the table.

Still, the lower caste won't go. The day before our reservation, all of the junior professional and clerical staff announce their intentions. "I have a doctor's appointment," one offers, "I'm staying to watch the phones," says another. I am annoyed and say so. The idea of getting up earlier than usual gives me no pleasure, and a meal at the M.A.D. isn't something a vegetarian relishes. "So I am not going either, but I'll make no excuses," I tell them. There is distress on their faces. They waver. The junior professionals and half the clerical staff have a change of heart. "If you go, we'll go," they say from the familiar worn spot. "I'll meet you," I promise.

It is morning of the appointed day. The professionals, especially M.D.L., the least respected, vie for spots closest to the Man. It is not a happy group; peacemaker G.W.C. had his first chemotherapy treatment yesterday, uppity N.L.R. is outraged at the loss of her secretary and not at all satisfied by her reassignment. I purposely sit at the low status end. I steer the conversation away from work. I flamboyantly tell every witticism that comes to mind. Everyone relaxes a little.

Back at the office, I accomplish a lot without the constant interruptions. The atmosphere feels calm today. There may yet be a little life left in that carpet, after all; the spot near the printer is vacant.

2011-12-16T10:34:00.000-05:00

My last day on campus for the fall semester was Wednesday. I don't have any classes that day, just several meetings and a luncheon. I purge my office. One detail I addressed was chatting with the woman who handles my grant. I was telling her about my research. I told her one thing I'm learning from the classroom observations is that it would be relatively easy to design a fair teacher assessment that didn't rely on standardized tests. She remarked, "that should be your next grant proposal." Wow! What an exciting idea. I believe I could do it -- and the model would be good for parents, good for administrators, good for teachers, good for taxpayers -- and most importantly, good for students. Of course, people would need to embrace change rather than resist it.

2011-12-14T17:49:00.000-05:00

Great piece this week, bravo. (One thing that makes Wednesday a good day every week.)

2011-12-13T17:29:00.002-05:00

I sold my fish tank at the yard sale we held at the old house before Mimmie moved. I’d never had much luck with fish except for goldfish and algae eaters, and then the last goldfish was alone, grew to a carp, and one sad day died; I decided to stick with mammals. Now I know that I overfed them and the tank was in too sunny a spot. But I was happy to unload it for a cool $5.

Mimmie wasn’t in a very good mood that day. She didn’t want to move from the old place, even if it had little water, and she’d have plenty -- enough for an automatic washer in her new trailer, instead of the Ward’s wringer model that was in the old kitchen. She reminded us of her displeasure many times after her move. Years later she told me that it had taken her all of two years, but she came to love her new home.

That day we helped her sell many of her things. She decided what would go, making it clear that she preferred modern things rather than old junk, anyway. I didn’t think of it then, but just not when it came to the house itself, I guess. She didn’t take the chrome and enamel kitchen set with her, though I so wanted her to. An old notebook says that it sold for $18.35. It was a symbol of the old kitchen. She liked the new, improved harvest gold and brown ‘70s version that was waiting for her with the automatic washer. It quickly displaced the older set to become the symbol of her kitchen. She did bring her old hand mixer though, still in the box it came in the day my father won it in 1956 for selling Fords, the day of the move and still to this day carefully sewn together in Mimmie fashion with blue string. She also brought her metal tea canister, which had a Lipton tea bag tag taped to the top for easy ID. And the framed picture Aunt Dot had given her of her favorite politician, FDR.

It didn't take long to accumulate more stuff, though. "I’ve got quite a few baskets that I got for presents, that was my sort of hobby. Now I want to get rid of them all,” she told Michael during a visit one day many years after moving to the trailer.

2011-12-12T18:50:00.000-05:00

Why is competent leadership so hard to find? No one wants to make hard choices, or focus on change that could actually be beneficial in the end, even a win-win.

Working away, making good progress on grades. Time to emerge from my third floor isolation, see about dinner.

2011-12-11T17:57:00.004-05:00

I'd Probably Be Working Yet

“Hundreds of youngsters did see the pixies that lived in the ferns beside the barn! Very special wee folk, they delighted in serving everything miniature size in their own special dishes. Tea sandwiches were served in the pixie refrigerator, luncheon was served in their train or boat. A dog cart and pony wagon were treasures reserved for serving dessert. During the meal, the pixies busied themselves wrapping tiny gifts of the heart to delight their pint size customers. The Inn scrapbook contains so many letters written to the pixies, we know the children shared the pixie love of giving, laughing and enjoying. We knew they would enjoy being remembered by all the ‘young in heart’” (Graeffe & Horner, Favorite Recipes of Watson Hollow Inn, 1972, p.136).

Mimmie worked for many years as a cook at Watson Hollow Inn in West Shokan, New York. Desserts were her specialty. My fondest childhood memories are of sitting at Mimmie's enamel kitchen table very late at night, selecting delicious homemade cookies from a tin container, and drinking many cups of tea while she shared stories of her life. Mimmie liked her tea strong, and always left the tea bag brewing in her cup the entire time she drank the tea. She preferred Lipton brand, although she would tolerate Tetley, but she disapproved of all other kinds. I doubt she knew there was such a thing as decaffeinated. She used evaporated milk rather than lemon or ordinary milk in her tea.

I asked her, "what do you think about time?"

"Time isn’t important to me anymore. And I mean, I used to do everything on schedule, anyone that got me off of that schedule... Anymore, I would say, you know, there’s a lot more time to do that. This can be done some other time. I have all the time in the world to visit, and read. That made me very nervous, schedules. When I was working, I mean Clare caught on right away, that it bothered me. And I know I heard her say one time to somebody, don’t get Ann off her schedule, or she’ll, I don’t know, she said she’ll kill you or something like that," she replied, laughing.

"Everything I did, I wanted it done -- and sometimes it couldn’t be, but I thought if they kept on their schedule, it wouldn’t interfere with mine. They just thought that you couldn’t always keep on a schedule. And I could, you know, if they went to the store on time. Because if you don’t get it done on time, how are you going to serve the meals on time.”

Watson Hollow Inn was a magical place. Known simply as “the Inn” to employees, regulars and local folks, I suppose it was somewhat of a bed and breakfast, though it was in business long before B&Bs were chic. Afternoon tea and Sunday dinner were served at the Inn. Operated by Clare Graeffe Kearney, Anne Graeffe and Paul (Pat) Kearney from 1942 to 1970, Mimmie worked there from 1958 until her retirement in 1970.

I was a little girl, and did not often get to visit while Mimmie was at work, so my most vivid memories of the Inn come from Mimmie’s late night stories. Occasionally in the evenings, the owners, guests and a few employees would play games and put on simple performances. Mimmie greatly enjoyed the antics at the Inn and, at the same time, thought they were silly. “...All leaf lettuce, parsley, baby carrots and corn came directly from Pat’s garden. Fresh clover was picked daily, washed, and gently pressed into each butter pat” (Graeffe & Hoerner, p.129). Finding four-leaf clover was one of those antics, and was among Mimmie’s many responsibilities.

A recollection of my own is of a time when I did visit Mimmie in the Inn’s kitchen while she was working. Clare offered to make me a shake. In my limited experience, a shake was ice cream, milk and most likely chocolate. Clare’s combination consisted of wheat germ, a raw egg, and other unfamiliar ingredients. Clare, Anne and Pat practiced a sort of health-food lifestyle before anyone cared about such things. I reluctantly drank it and said that I liked it, although I was a fussy kid and it was not sweet at all. But I had been told many times not to practice my finicky ways when I was a guest.

The nice elderly women at the Inn gave me a little package to take with me when I left that day. I was to open it after we drove away, when the Inn could no longer be seen in the distance. Although too polite to refuse the wheat germ-egg shake, I was skeptical of the story I was told about what would happen if I did not listen. The pixies who lived in the ferns would spirit my gift away! Ignoring the warning, I ripped the little decorated bag open almost as soon as I was in the car. Inside was a cute plastic deer statue. (I save everything, but don't have it any longer; I suppose it was spirited away after all.)

The building which once housed Watson Hollow Inn burned down close to Thanksgiving in 1971, a year after it stopped operating as a business. (The pixies who lived in the ferns may have done it.)

Mimmie remarked, "of course if Watson Hollow Inn was still there, and I lived where I did, I’d probably be working yet. 'Cause if I’d never had to stop, I think I would have kept in good enough condition to work. I think that they wouldn’t have been working full-time there. And I know if everything had gone well and they had been living, they’d be running that place today yet, maybe in a smaller way."

Here's a WHI recipe that is perfect for holiday celebrations:

Watson Hollow Inn Fruit Punch

Nutmeg   (to taste)
Cinnamon   (to taste)
Cloves   (to taste)
Cranberry Juice   4 cups
Apricot Juice   3 cups
Pear Nectar   2 cups
Pineapple Juice   3 cups

Put all ingredients in gallon jar and chill. When ready to serve add one can frozen lemonade, stir and fill remainder of jar with ginger ale. Add cinnamon, nutmeg and cloves to taste. Fill glasses and add one melon ball cutter, the largest one, of orange or lemon sherbet to each glass.

excerpted from A Visit with Mimmie: Catskill Mountain Recipes

2011-12-10T15:32:00.002-05:00

Working, working, working away...hoping to spare myself 12 hour days and quitting time of 2 am as the grading deadline approaches. We'll see!

Here's a respite...

"Do you see a difference in how people of different ages perform their jobs?" I asked Mimmie.

“I’ve seen both. I’ve seen young people that worked real hard, and I’ve seen some that didn’t. I’ve seen somebody that was about my age or a little younger that wasn’t worth two cents. While I was working down there at the Inn. This one, that I remember, she wasn’t a bit conscientious. She used to make out that she was working. Fooled some people. I mean, she was almost my age. Not now, then. I’ve seen girls eighteen, nineteen worked like the place was their own. I don’t think it has a thing to do with it. Today they talk like, people, old people always, I mean, with the sense they have, that they always were like that. I mean, kids did just the same as they do today. They didn’t come home when they were told, and stayed out too late, sneaked in if they could. I know even I did. Our door was locked - 12 o’clock by my father. My mother always got up very quietly and let me in. I mean, how could you get back by 12 o’clock if you went to Kingston for the movies? If you went to a dance, they had dances right there, not too far from where we lived, it just about got started at 12 o’clock. You’d go there at nine, there wasn’t hardly anybody there. My mother wouldn’t want you to stay out all night, or 3 o’clock in the morning, but she didn’t care if you were just down there dancing, two miles from the house. She trusted you enough to believe that’s where you were if you said so. She would have never thought of locking the door, I don’t know what my father thought -- I guess he thought she gets up and lets you in, that’s what he must have thought." She paused, her remark punctuated by laugher. "But maybe he didn’t realize that we weren’t home, I don’t know. I mean Alice and I were together, and some other girls that lived right near us.”

2011-12-09T14:35:00.000-05:00

Clothes Poles

Mimmie had no use for “permanent press.” She liked cotton and ironed everything regularly, from her housedresses to Uncle Buddy’s blue jeans to sheets and pillowcases. When a tablecloth became worn or stained, it finished its life as a cover for her old wooden ironing board. Mimmie had a wringer washer at the old house, and an automatic one at her mobile home, but she did not have a dryer. Stretched between two trees in her yard was a clothes line, and due to its extreme length, she used Y-shaped poles every few feet to prop it up. Her linens never dragged on the ground as they dried in the breeze, and hunting for appropriate poles for this important task was her continuous endeavor. You won’t find them near the Tide and Wisk in the supermarket, or even with the ironing boards and clothes pins in a discount department store. Mimmie’s perfect clothes-pole specimens grew in the woods near her house.

illustration by Janette Kahil

2011-12-08T20:07:00.004-05:00

Eggplant is my favorite food. Thinking back, I realized this past week I had:

eggplant napolean at The Point in Albany for dinner on Wednesday of last week (it was divine),
eggplant napolean from the Outtakes store on campus on Thursday for lunch (it was acceptable, even tasty. I suspect slabs were packaged up the day after it didn't sell out at the Patroon Room lunch buffet -- sort of reminds me of elementary school when an apple was the snack and kids would take maybe one bite, then go up to throw out the tray. A lunch aide was always there, grabbing the trays full of trash. Next day, 1/2 apples were the snacks. Hmmm),
eggplant parmesan from Scarnato's in Castleton on Friday (it was to die for, my favorite, best anywhere, no contest, A+++, rivals my own or even Ma's),
frozen Celentano eggplant for dinner on Saturday (it was not that good),
eggplant and white bean soup for brunch at the Chatham House on Sunday (it was heavenly),
eggplant parmesan at Teagan's in Rensselaer on Tuesday for dinner (it was serviceable).

What? A week with only six days of eggplant? How can that be?

Something I don't do as much as I'd like is cook time-intensive, more complicated dishes. Some of my favorite things to make involve pie crust (with apple pie topping the list!). Today I decided to make a quiche. It's been ages since I made one. My recipe: pie crust (1 1/4 c. flour, 1/4 t salt, 1/3 cup butter, 4 T water), roll out into one crust, put in pan, line with foil and bake 450 degrees for 8 minutes, remove foil and bake 5 more minutes. Filling (4 eggs, 1 1/2 c milk, 1/4 t salt, 1/4 t nutmeg, 1/8 t pepper, 1 t minced garlic, 8 oz shredded cheddar cheese, 2 c chopped spinach). Bake 325 degrees for one hour.

Today is another day without eggplant. (Already know I'm having it tomorrow though.)

2011-12-08T11:02:00.000-05:00

Turns out that the answer to the question in the last post is "no." Looks very pretty, but no work.

With no FTF classes, getting caught up on lots of details. Always make me happy!

2011-12-07T23:08:00.001-05:00

Snowing like crazy. Will I have to shovel tomorrow?

2011-12-07T10:54:00.001-05:00

From Elwyn's 1941 Diary:

December 7. Clear, cold, biting northerly winds. At dawn Japan without warning suddenly attacked with air & naval force Pearl Harbor Hawaii, & Phillipines. Japan has attacked without provocation and declared war on the United States. Tonight our country is at war. -Already hundreds of our soldiers have been killed.

LATER - over 2700 U S sailors & over 200 soldiers - Battleship Arizona sunk, also Utah & several other ships.

December 8. United States declared war on Japan. President Franklin D Roosevelt signed the document at 4.10pm - The President addressed Congress at 12.30pm Senate voted unanimously and the House 188-1 for War. Miss Janette Rankin of Montana cast lone dissenting vote.

December 9. New York City had 2 air riad alarms pm. - Heard President Roosevelt’s radio message to Nation at 10pm. Japan has dealt a serious blow in the far

east.

December 11. Italy and Nazi Germany declared war on the United States. Congress and House of Representatives retaliated unanimously and President Franklin D Roosevelt signed the Declaration

December 15. Secy of War Frank Knox reported today to Nation 2700 officers & men were killed by bombs in last Sunday’s Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor.

2011-12-06T22:35:00.000-05:00

Last day of classes! I was feeling better so I managed, although I had two bad coughing spells. One in the morning in the privacy of my office made me wonder if I could make the day. Then, another, not quite as bad, when my evening class was almost over. At the end of that class, a student gave me a card and candy cane and thanked me for the class. That is the first time that has happened. Not being verbally thanked necessarily, but the careful thought of the token. I was thinking of that corny Hallmark commercial, the one when the woman comes back years later and gives her former professor a card as he is retiring and packing up his office. I've received a few gifts and thank you cards from students before, when I write them graduate school recommendations and it is a student I know especially well. But for a class? This was a first. Very gratifying!

2011-12-05T18:00:00.003-05:00

I Started This Notebook in 1926

I twisted the knob, attempting to open the door that led to the little room Uncle Lou had added to Mimmie’s mobile home. It was locked, so I knocked. “Mimmie,” I called. Inside, I heard her fumbling around with the door. It took a while, as she had several latches to release, as well as a hook and eye. That little trailer in the woods of upstate New York was more secure than many apartments in New York City, 100 miles to the south.

The door swung open. Mimmie stood a little to the side, so that I could pass. That day, as always, her floral house dress was perfectly pressed, her stockings complemented by a pair of white sneakers. Not once in my life did I see her in pants, although my mother says that in Mimmie’s younger days sometimes she did wear jeans.

We were going to sit at the kitchen table, drinking tea and eating coffee cake while we talked. That was what we always did during our visits at her trailer, and before that, when she still lived at the old place. But this day I was going to tape record her answers to a list of prepared questions. It was an assignment for a class at college, and I had already asked Mimmie if she would be my subject. She had agreed, reluctantly.

Mimmie circa 1985

I sat down at the table and arranged my notepad and tape recorder. Mimmie hovered nearby. “Should we have some tea first” she said. It was not really a question. I said yes, and before long, it was brewing. She took a danish out of the refrigerator and heated up a few slices in her toaster oven.

“You know, I think these coffee cakes aren’t so good anymore. I think they bake them right in the boxes now,” she remarked. I smiled. Years later, I decided she was probably right! And a little time in the toaster oven always improves store-bought baked goods.

“Maybe we should get started?” I suggested. The clock with the big numbers above the kitchen sink was loud when it ticked. The hours slipped away during visits with Mimmie. I had to make the bus back to Oneonta later that evening, and this assignment needed to be finished. “Where were you born?”

“In my parents’ house.” Mimmie’s parents lived on Dug Hill Road in Hurley, New York. Her father was a widower with five children, but it was the first marriage for her mother. Mimmie was the oldest of three surviving daughters from this union.

“And you lived there your whole childhood?”

“Yes.” When she was a girl, Mimmie often visited a neighbor on Dug Hill Road. She taught Mimmie about running a household and cooking.

By our second cup of tea, there were still a lot of questions to go. The first ones had answers I already knew. “When were you born?” I asked. “September 13, 1904” came the reply. “Do you have children?” “Yes, three.”

“What are their ages?” “I was told not to answer that,” she said, and we both started laughing. “What did your father do?” “He was a farmer.” “And your mother?”
“Cook.”

“How did you come to West Shokan, and when?” “How’d I come? I moved here in 1932, no reason why.” I made some notes in my spiral-bound book. West Shokan was my grandfather’s hometown.

Eckert Homestead in West Shokan c. 1915

“What other places have you lived as an adult?” “Well, I lived in Woodstock, working there, for two years. And I lived in Alleben. That’s all.” I made some more notes. In 1918, after finishing eighth grade in the one-room school at age fourteen, Mimmie left home. She went to work in Kingston, New York. In 1922 she moved to Woodstock, New York, to work as a nanny for the Reasoner family. Mr. Reasoner was an artist who owned the Woodstock Playhouse.

Mimmie when she was about 17

“What is your occupation?” “Crazy questions, aren’t they? I don’t want to say jack of all trades and master of none.” She was laughing. “What would you be, mostly I’ve been a housewife, cook. As a young girl, I worked in a factory.”

“What did your husband do?” “Farmer, carpenter.” I continued my notes. Grandpa owned the store Mimmie worked in when she lived in Alleben.

As a newlywed in 1926, Mimmie started writing recipes in a spiral-bound notebook. On the cover is taped an illustration of a kitchen by Maxwell Mays that looks much like Mimmie’s at the old house. At some point she labeled this notebook “Old Book.” The stained pages inside are written in fountain pen and long ago started to crumble. At one place, they were sewn by Mimmie to the binding, and the thread remains intact. This old book begins with a recipe for Irish Wedding Cake, and several pages later, there is One Egg Cake.

The 1926 Notebook

In the 1940s, Mimmie’s sister Alice and brother-in-law Frank would drive to West Shokan from their home in Stony Hollow for a visit. Most of the time, these visits were an unplanned surprise. Having no sweets readily available to offer them and few ingredients on hand to rectify the situation did not prevent Mimmie from slipping into the kitchen to see what she could manage. A short time later, without fail, she would emerge with a just-baked cake.

For one visit Alice decided to save her sister the trouble by bringing something she had picked up at a store. Mimmie served the dessert and coffee, and Alice remarked, “isn’t it good, Frank?” “I guess so,” he replied. “But I prefer those one-egg cakes that Annie stirs up in a hurry.”

Why not try a recipe that will not taste like it has been baked right in the box?

excerpted from A Visit with Mimmie: Catskill Mountain Recipes

I am going to make a batch of these, from the Old Book:

Ginger Snap Cookies

Sugar, 1 cup

Shortening, 2/3 cup

Egg, beaten, 1

Molasses (light), 1/4 cup

Flour, 2 cups

Salt, 1 teaspoon

Baking Soda, 1 teaspoon

Cinnamon, 1 teaspoon

Ginger, 1 teaspoon

Cloves, 1 teaspoon

Thoroughly cream sugar and shortening, add egg and molasses and beat well. Add sifted dry ingredients. Mix well. Roll 1/8 inch thick on lightly floured surface. Cut with floured cookie cutter. Bake on greased cookie sheet in moderate oven (350 degrees) about 10 minutes. Makes 6 dozen cookies.

2011-12-05T10:38:00.000-05:00

Right on. This is basically what my father said to me when we were at an aquarium while on vacation in Florida in '92. He commented on how boring it must be for the large fish who were swimming 'round and 'round, that it was not natural. "The Other Coast" is currently my favorite comic strip, btw. Since I don't get The Record any more, I read it every day online.

Since Tuesday, I have been fighting a cold. I had a minor symptom or two on and off, but it didn't settle in until yesterday, when I must have kicked back and allowed it in. Winter session class was almost ready, so now my defenses betray me - figuring there is time to be sick!

Tomorrow is my last day of classes, and although I have not canceled a class this semester, I really don't want to do it on the last day so I hope I feel better by then. I had a dentist appointment today which I had to reschedule. This is reminding me that I got a terrible sinus infection immediately after going to the dentist last time. I don't think it was a coincidence. Then, in September, I had a cold on my birthday. (Of course.) I have not caught every cold going around since a few years after the brown recluse spider bite. After that, my immunity was compromised, but in recent years I don't get many colds. Certainly no more than 1-2 a year anyway. I suspect my elementary school observations are the culprit. I was there Monday, and the same was true of the birthday cold. I am not sure how teachers manage.

I have been looking forward to tomorrow night's classes, because I made an experimental change in the Thursday class and it worked out great so I wanted to try it in the Tuesday classes too. I will write more about it eventually.

2011-12-04T18:33:00.000-05:00

My First Lesson in Leadership (1997)

I worked for John one summer at a park in my hometown. He was a substitute science teacher at my high school who spent the summer as Director of Recreation. He was a popular teacher, young, athletic and easy-going. I'd just finished my freshman year of college and had landed the coveted job of "gate attendant" at the public pool. We had strict limits on the number of swimmers for health and safety reasons, a subject John had warned us about since bending the rules for friends was always tempting to staff. I was very by-the-book, a future bureaucrat. Luckily, it wasn't usually an issue, since every kid in town would have to show up to exceed the 40 capacity.

One very hot Saturday there was a political fundraiser at the park, and between the regulars, the Democrats at the picnic and the summer residents from NYC, the limit was taxed. I was on duty, and mindful of the rules as always, I turned away numerous regulars and a pair of weekend residents, a father and son. When
someone left, I'd dutifully let in a replacement, in order of arrival. The father wasn't satisfied with my stance, argued with me, then left briefly, and returned with Ernie, a member of our town board, who had been shaking hands at the picnic.

Ernie yelled at me in front of the forlorn group of local kids waiting at the gate, and with John's acquiescence, forced me to let in the father and son out of turn and over the limit. They passed by me at my post with a very superior attitude and a smug look, as if to say, "we showed you, you ignorant hick." Meanwhile, the local kids now had to wait for two more swimmers to leave before they could enter.

Later, John was apologetic, but it was too late. He'd already lost his credibility. In my teenage mind I nurtured a grudge against Ernie, privately planning to return to that small town one day with all my degrees and unseat Ernie from the board.

2011-12-03T22:54:00.001-05:00

I spent a very long day getting my winter session class ready. I still have a couple more hours of work left. I plan to finish it either tomorrow afternoon or Monday morning. The class doesn't officially start until December 19, but it goes live on the 5th.

It's an odd combination of technical tasks involving the courseware (blackboard), scheduling, intense brainstorming on how to achieve the same learning outcomes as in the academic year and summer, and finally translating that all into assignments. By 7 PM I was developing keyboard / mouse back strain. We are the modern variant of industrial workers, harnessed to our machines, which results in physical injury. And mental too? Are the machines our masters?

Why hasn't someone invented some other method for creating and manipulating information that doesn't involve a keyboard, a mouse or a touch screen? Why haven't voice activated solutions taken off, I wonder? Because it is just too hard to recognise speech?

2011-12-02T17:21:00.000-05:00

The Search (1998)

Tell us dear why you should make the sale
We need a candidate who will not fail
A fellow from Princeton, Harvard or maybe Yale

What’s that you’ve worked here nine years you say
But compared to the Ivy that’s barely a day
And if we miscalculate, there will be hell to pay

We certainly hope you won’t be mad
When we tender the offer to the pedigreed lad
We still like you, you know so you shouldn’t be sad

It’s so silly of you to walk over this
Just think of all the opportunities you will miss
No we don’t mean advancement, we mean asses to kiss

If that’s your decision we’ll hold open the door
Actually it will be a relief to have you here no more
Don’t expect a handshake, unpolished mongrels leave here poor

2011-12-01T19:56:00.006-05:00

OMG - let's see if we can come up with the worst idea possible and implement it. 1) Research does not support this grade configuration, and districts in growing states are not building middle schools. It is too many transitions -- simply a terrible idea. Both the junior high and one of the elementary schools made the state's under performing list...HELLO! 2) Enrollment is rapidly plummeting. In the not-distant future it doesn't take a clairvoyant to see that there will be only one central campus needed. It isn't a pleasant vision, but it is reality. Make the best of it! 3) I call BS on all three of these plans costing the same money. No way. This is an agenda-driven proposal, it is not designed with good sense or sound educational strategies in mind.

I've been doing classroom observations and something that has struck me (and my college student partners) is that some (or all except one?) of the teachers tell the kids, when they are writing and ask how to spell something, that spelling doesn't count. Then on Monday, I witnessed students in one class with little dictionaries, looking words up. In this class, spelling does matter apparently. A light bulb went off in my head! The other teachers are using the whole language approach, and this teacher is using phonics! I can tell you anecdotally that whole language doesn't work. I know it is the "modern" way that is supposed to encourage writing, because phonics was the more traditional approach that might turn off kids' natural creativity or something, but that isn't what I see at all. I see students becoming lifelong bad spellers who over rely on computer spell checkers.

Mark Twain wrote about spelling:

I have had an aversion to good spelling for sixty years and more, merely for the reason that when I was a boy there was not a thing I could do creditably except spell according to the book. It was a poor and mean distinction, and I early learned to disenjoy it. I suppose that this is because the ability to spell correctly is a talent, not an acquirement. There is some dignity about an acquirement, because it is a product of your own labor. It is wages earned, whereas to be able to do a thing merely by the [grace] of God, and not by your own effort, transfers the distinction to our heavenly home—where possibly it is a matter of pride and satisfaction, but it leaves you naked and [bankrupt.] (March 27, 1906).

I think he may be right that spelling comes easy to some and not to others, but it it also true that phonics trumps whole language in producing good spellers! I am not sure that I agree with him that being able to spell well isn't an important skill. I don't think being a bad speller = character flaw, but I do think knowing how to spell is one attribute that makes it easier to utilize expansive vocabulary and write well. Twain was a master writer, and produced work that will be admired for eternity. He had no illusions about this. Is it just a coincidence that he could spell? Sure, primitive spelling can be charming, in a child's stories or even in a humble adult's letters, but I think there are educational methods that work, and they can be done in a humane fashion. What I see in the whole language philosophy is spelling separated out as its own unit, and I think that is likely to be the approach that causes worry for kids who are not among Twain's naturally talented spellers. Which reminds me, I finished the autobiography and am now reading Margaret Atwood's latest book.

Once again, this reminds me of the most extreme position on teaching reading and writing: simplified spelling, my i.t.a. experience.

Last day of my Thursday class! It was a good semester.

2011-11-28T19:14:00.003-05:00

Spent today in school. Observing third grade this fall -- ten different classes, two different schools -- is bringing back so many memories of my own experiences in that grade 42 years ago. The teacher described here in my Seven Teachers anecdote as "Maybe He Thought Third Graders Liked Gross Stuff" almost sums it up. The other half of the day I had a wonderful teacher, and (in what may be a commentary on what is remembered -- the bad more than the good) not a lot of specific memories.

I do have two. First, the teacher cut her hand badly preparing Thanksgiving dinner, had to have surgery to repair the damage to her ligament, and was out of school for (what seemed to an 8 year old to be) a long time. Second, it was during third grade that we learned the times tables. Luckily, it was the wonderful teacher, not the lover of disgusting lesson plans who taught math. But I remember we had to memorize each number sequentially, and then pass a series of progressively faster timed tests.

At the end of each - 9 minutes, 5 minutes, 3 minutes, as I recall -- we got certificates with gold seals and ribbons. This exercise was a great source of anxiety (and in many cases failure) for a large number of fellow students, although also luckily, not for me. I know the method gets a lot of criticism and has been abandoned in more places than not, but today I am thrilled to have that invaluable information cemented in my brain.

2011-11-26T14:51:00.001-05:00

The baptism is in a couple of hours, and I (as usual) am procrastinating on getting ready. When we arrived here Thursday, the wireless was down -- which means no phone, no roku, no cell. I was in a panic -- but the clocks were not blinking, so how could we have had a power surge or a lightening strike? Also puzzling, the wired connections were working fine. When we got home from the fabulous 18 person dinner at my sister's, I hooked up my old router, restored everything, and planned to package up the broken router to send back for repair or replacement, since it is on warranty. It is very frustrating, this constant frying. I have done this drill so many times.

Yesterday I set aside some time for contacting netgear to get the return authorization. I got my glasses, since I can't see all the tiny numbers on the back of the router, and as I was examining it I noticed an illustration of the various ports, internet connection, A/C adapter plug...and wireless on/off switch. Duh.

So today I swapped the routers again, and we are back in business.

2011-11-23T10:42:00.005-05:00

Yesterday evening we met with the priest about my grandnephew's baptism, which will be on Saturday. I've been working like crazy to fit in that trip, the holiday and an extended stay in Samsonville. I always resolve to get some things done when I am there, but that rarely happens. It is even hard to find time for my Kindle when I am there!

I returned a batch of assignments yesterday. I think the last midterm, the one that was so bad it made me mad may have been a harbinger! It isn't the same class, but about half of the assignments from yesterday were terrible. It's the weakest class in terms of writing that I can remember. There was a respite last week when the on campus sections made presentations - the majority were excellent. But still, yesterday's results were beyond alarming.

Something I've been meaning to note here but keep forgetting is that November 2 was the 12th anniversary of Penny Poodily's death. This mean that early next month we will have had Sophie for twelve years. Hard to believe.

I can't stand all the television commercials about so-called Black Friday. Why would anyone wait in line so they can buy a crappy flat screen at 4 am? What's the matter with those people? I've searched the recesses of my mind and discover not a shred of explanation (or understanding). I find the Target ads especially annoying, keep fantasizing some awful tragedy falling upon that irritating woman in them. Shallow is celebrated -- makes me sick. Full disclosure is that of all the big boxes I hate, Target is way up there on the awfulness scale.

So in honor of Thanksgiving, here is my 10-year-old self:

November 25, 1971

Dear Gina,

I heard from my neighbor, a cranberry sauce can, that I was invited to your house for Thanksgiving dinner. I was delighted! The thing I didn't know (I heard it from my never-lie Cornish Game Hen neighbor) that I was the dinner. She said not to worry, everyone's time comes. She said that was the reason I was born (to eat). The Grand Union sells you, and after that some hungry person buys you. That's how they live, she told me. I didn't like your way of living. You live on the innocent little helpless creatures. To make things worse, first, you put us in a freezing cold box, then in a boiling hot box. It's not fair. How would you like it? I don't. I don't like the idea at all. I just won't be eaten and you better do something about it.

Yours Truly,
Tom Turkey

2011-11-18T11:53:00.000-05:00

On FB, some "friends" have been worked up about this (I have remained silent, since I am a dissenter who escaped the mandated-at-that-time small pox vaccine as a child, and have learned to keep my mouth shut). But it reminded me: Here's a tidbit from Mark Twain that I've been meaning to share:

In 1845, when I was ten years old, there was an epidemic of measles in the town and it made a most alarming slaughter among the little people. There was a funeral almost daily, and the mothers of the town were nearly demented with fright. My mother was greatly troubled. She worried over Pamela and Henry and me, and took constant and extraordinary pains to keep us from coming into contact with the contagion. But upon reflection I believed that her judgment was at fault. It seemed to me that I could improve upon it if left to my own devices. I cannot remember now whether I was frightened about the measles or not, but I clearly remember that I grew very tired of the suspense I suffered on account of being continually under the threat of death. I remember that I got so weary of it and so anxious to have the matter settled one way or the other, and promptly, that this anxiety spoiled my days and my nights. I had no pleasure in them. I made up my mind to end this suspense and be done with it. Will Bowen was dangerously ill with the measles and I thought I would go down there and catch them (16 March 1906).

My niece and her husband have asked me to be my grandnephew's Godparent! It has been many years since I have been asked to serve in this capacity, lots of young people don't practice religion, and so I am both pleased and flattered. I have been scrambling to secure the needed documentation. I think it will take place next weekend.

2011-11-16T13:21:00.004-05:00

2011 Note: Earlier this year, I stopped receiving newspapers. They are too irritating, too content-free, too expensive -- and are being made superfluous by the Internet. It was a little difficult in the morning at first, but the feeling quickly dissipated. That was helped along because the current delivery person is unreliable, and the papers were often not delivered early in the morning, and sometimes not at all. And, as it turns out, I miss the Record more.

Smarter or Prettier, an answer to an old meme (2002)

About 15 years ago, at work someone asked, "if you could be either smarter or prettier, which would you choose?" The office was on campus, and the staff was all 20-something women, mostly graduate students, as a group already bright and attractive. Everyone, and I mean everyone, said without hesitation: prettier. Why? Because all felt they were smart enough, and that becoming any smarter would be a barrier to dating, and maybe even to getting through life!

More Jocks, Less Brains (1999)

For an owl, the early morning is filled with anything but joy, even after years of practice and forced early-to-bed. The television commercial may be right, that coffee – though not necessarily the advertiser’s particular brand – is the best part of waking up, but the morning newspaper is a close second.

The cities of Troy and Schenectady are smothered, with some justification, and rightly, I think, by the neighboring Albany. And so their daily newspapers struggle for significance.

The Troy Record hails itself as Rensselaer County’s voice, and if that is so, then the column Sound Off is a cacophony. The premise of Sound Off is that readers telephone to respond to articles in the Record; callers have 30 seconds to leave reactions on an answering machine. A Record staffer responds to the more outrageous callers. After years of following along, I’ve concluded that the less literate, the more inflammatory the comment, the greater the likelihood that it will be printed in the paper.

It is the forum Sound Off which rivals coffee for making early morning almost worthwhile. Corrupt politics, high taxes, the poor condition of local roads and the low quality of today’s teenagers are subjects especially dear to callers’ hearts. Hardly a day goes by without the wise aleck who writes the responses, which appear in italics beneath some of the quotes, raising someone’s ire. The latest controversy surrounds the Record’s stance on high school athletics verses academic programming. The editorial staff had the nerve to question the over emphasis on sports in a local district, and Sound Off’s phones have not stopped ringing.

After my morning caffeine and paper, I go off to campus three days per week. Returning to the full-time student arena after years of part-time study, I now find myself participating with other doctoral students in forums of a very different nature; or on second thought, maybe they are not that dissimilar. My peers share gossip and other secrets.

It seems failure is a badge of honor. “He failed the statistics exam ELEVEN times,” begins the confidence, complete with wide, unblinking eyes; the way the sentence is structured makes it sound like a blessing, not a curse. Or, “when I was taking the comprehensive exams for the second – or was it the third? – time,...” is the introduction to a story about what happened on that day, and the opening clause is just that, merely an opening, mentioned in passing with no shame. In fact, so proud is the telling, that it might even be called bragging.

I remember when such track records were labeled, as Frank DuMond probably would have, in the wonderful book Walking Through Yesterday in Old West Hurley, had it been the subject of his musings, “not college material.” Just a few tidbits from that delightful read; he is describing his mother:

She reminded us...that a “lazy man’s load” was trying to carry too big an armload of wood for the stove and dropping part of it. When I scurried around doing tasks I should have much earlier, I was told, “A lazy man works best when the sun is in the west.”

Perhaps, since I am in critical mode, that is something all owls should take to heart! Or maybe I should take those harsh attitudes as a lesson, let compassion get the best of me, and allow that it’s possible it is not failure which is prized by my peers, but perseverance and the overcoming of failure?

A few mornings ago as I was taking sips from my mug, my eye was caught by another of Sound Off’s many gems; “so we are known for sports and not academics...more jocks, less brains!” And this is something you are proud of? Smirked the wise aleck, in italics.

So did the owl.

2011-11-14T16:07:00.002-05:00

Tired today! It was quite a weekend. Fun, bittersweet to see it end. Then today I had to do a school visit, and the mad rush to end of semester begins. I hope to accomplish a lot next week, before Thanksgiving.

Rejection (1999)

Hibrow Publications
100 Flashcube Building
Erudite, New York 10000
June 11, 1999

Simon Colchester
10 Never-ending Lane
Insipid, New York 11111

Dear Mr. Colchester:

Generally I begin my letters, regardless of whether they are offers or rejections, by thanking the writer for his or her submission. In your case, I must make an exception. I could never thank you for sending me your story. Reading it has wasted the better part of an hour and ruined my day. Have you heard of writer’s guidelines? I am not impressed that you are clever with your word processing software. We at Hibrow Publications do not appreciate every line of your text beginning with a bullet.

Under ordinary conditions, I would just recycle your story, never send you a response at all, and remove the stamps from your self-addressed, stamped envelope to use for my own personal mail. But, for your special circumstances I have decided to sacrifice the postage. Someone needs to let you know the truly abysmal quality of your work. Perhaps then you will be persuaded to stop producing it.

Do you remember the “Gong Show?” Many times while I was reading your submission, I wished you were a contestant, and I was a judge, so I could have the pleasure of interrupting your miserable thoughts on that page by hitting the gong with all my might.

You may find this note shocking. It is evident you are extremely proud of your writing. Indeed, your article is quite comprehensive and contained much detail. Rather than being impressive, however, I found myself asking who you think would be interested in so much drivel on so boring and trivial a topic? A friendless loser would have something better to do than read your article. And even if your topic had been clever one, your prose was so mind-numbing that my brain’s ability to generate pleasant-sounding rejection letters has been frozen, and may be forever impaired.

In case my message has yet to penetrate your consciousness, your submission does not meet our needs at this time, nor will it meet them at any other time. Unfortunately, I am unable to congratulate you on the effort you showed in your story, because your time would have been better spent by watching a test pattern on the television. However, I am willing to offer a suggestion for improvement. Throw this story in the trash immediately, and erase it from your computer disk. As a precaution, you may need to format the diskette to eliminate all traces of this piece.

Finally, I will not wish you success in your future endeavors, because should you persevere and achieve publication, you will only serve to drag down the overall quality of writing in the English language.

Sincerely,
Valentine Green
Editor

2011-11-11T10:46:00.005-05:00

Action packed weekend planned. Will likely translate to an overwhelming backlog of work afterwards, since I usually spend some time on my classes during a three day weekend, but I'll manage. The fun will be worth it.

Then, there's this, which I don't have time to write about today, but it will keep. Suffice to say, one more piece of evidence that 1) middle school needs fixing and 2) school needs to be closed.

Finally, in honor of Veteran's Day 11/11/11:

This is my father during WWII.

2011-11-09T13:48:00.004-05:00

I have been scanning ephemera into efiles, and sharing them on facebook. I have a lot of cousins who are hungry for the photos and memorabilia. While looking to see what else I have that I'd already scanned in the past, pre-facebook, I discovered my old writing folder tucked away, several levels down from the desktop. I must have backed up the Iomega drive at some point! Oh happy day!

After I read the story I have copied below, it reminded me of something else from yesterday, also friend-related. I am handling the retirement party for someone at work that I have known since I was in the doctoral program, and yesterday it hit me that I need to get a card so colleagues can sign it. The clock is ticking! I went to the bookstore to buy one. There were only two choices for retirement. I laughed, shook my head, and chose the one with the most space for signatures.

I was thinking how I always fly by the seat of my pants -- get out of bed with five minutes to shower and get ready. But especially on such things as cards, gifts and gift wrap. No time or space to hit a Hallmark store. Bob is our designated gift wrapper, left to me I roll packages in crumpled funny sheets and use masking tape. I am capable of making pretty presents, but I almost never do. Reminds me too of Aunt Jean. She was always scribbling out the message on cards - changing Get Well to Happy Birthday. So when I ran across flying by the seat of my pants in this anecdote, I had to smile.

What's Missing from this Study? (1998)

This fall marks my thirty-first year of being a student. The plan is to graduate after two more academic years and be done, having attained the ultimate terminal degree, the doctorate.

It will not be too soon. A good part of my identity has been defined by my student role. It has fit, or I wouldn't have worn it so long. It feels good to excel at something. To have almost no peers, even among my student peers. Feed that special trip. It has always been this way, which is why high school wasn't any fun. High school, where so much is defined by the social life, the cliques and clubs and teams. That part doesn't matter so much any more. Now it's great to be smart.

So why will it not be too soon to put aside the student role, since it fits like a glove? The costume is too tight. Two three hour sessions for two consecutive Saturdays writing to fulfill a requirement. Answer eight questions out of sixteen. Spend an equal amount of time on each response. Be sure to really answer the questions. Go.

Fifteen more three hour blocks, Monday nights from seven to ten, to prod along those (shift around nervously) dissertation proposals (pause for a moment of shared giggles and groans). In a three hour block of time I could read a book or write a story or take a walk or stare into space. Instead I must sit at yet another conference table and listen to one more meaningless comment. Yes, class, yes professor X, believe it or not there are stupid questions. My special trip has made me feel superior, how awful. Makes me long for RB's class, a sweet memory from my undergraduate days. "Raise your hand if you are a freshman," he would say, immediately upon walking into the room on the first day of class. (Looks around room.) "I have signed drop forms on the table in the front. You're out of the class." (He's not joking.)

Recently I read some publications from high school. Been digging out every scrap of my old writing. "Monday Blues" was our literary magazine. A greaser girl named Teresa wrote a story called "Where Did Freedom Go." The premise of the essay was that it's unfair students couldn't go to the market across the street to get a soda, and they shouldn't have to go outside to smoke cigarettes. I remember reading it at the time and thinking it was hilarious. But Teresa didn't intend it as a humor story. Now I feel as confined as she did.

But these are doctoral students, not teenage greasers. Are there any former greasers in the group? More likely jocks, maybe even the top magazine-selling booster club member. Mostly they pass the class time by studying for the comprehensive exams, unabashed. No RB here. I remember years ago my friend Stefan said that there are something like only twelve different facial types, and everyone has a twin. Jeff from my class (does he have a topic?) is a triplet. (He's the grad student triplet.) The other two are Paul from work (the accountant triplet) and Gene, a.k.a. the Corvair driving, gun toting, employed by and worshipper of the governor (the evil triplet). Jeff tells the class he has asked Professor D to be his dissertation chair (God help him) but hasn't gotten a commitment. Sitting in the back, a man I don't know asks trivial questions, things about font sizes and format. But maybe that's actually insightful and not inane, since senior management would value such interests.

Laura and a man I don't know discuss how they didn't finish the management section and never planned to pass it. (And I thought I was flying by the seat of my pants.) The woman next to me, a music teacher whose name I can't, but should, remember, sits frozen, on automatic pilot until the second half of the comps are over. But I know she always does her school work, so how bad can it be? No, I guess the questions weren't written as a musical score.

Debbie tells a story about parents pushing kids too much, especially in sports -- something alien to her, since she was always somewhere else smoking cigarettes when there was a high school football game. So there is a former greaser among us! The others, including the instructor, stare in disbelief. I find her story hilarious. This time, it was intended to be.

2011-11-09T09:44:00.010-05:00

Here is a link to Commissioner King's presentation to the NYSSBA last month. It's very well-done and informative. It raises some interesting points -- nothing Earth-shattering to the educational community necessarily, but the presentation is so concise yet comprehensive that I think many audiences would benefit from seeing it. Sort of related, I've been asked to work on this initiative from the university's (meaning system's) perspective. I'm very excited to be part of the conversation.

Yesterday I had lunch with a friend and we discussed the core standards and achievement gap highlighted in the NYSED presentation. It is persistent and very troubling. She'd like to work with me on a study. I would love to do it, if I can find the time. Presently my research involves the influence of arts integration on K-12 achievement, and it consumes most of my "free" time, but the issues in the Commissioner's presentation interest me more and are (arguably) more important.

Among the areas we considered in our broad ranging chat were what factors make most home schooling, many private schools and some charters get better results, and why some in the public sector are so resistant to taking lessons from those innovative approaches. I suspect it is because people react that way when they feel threatened. But I think they shoot themselves in the foot by being reluctant to try reform initiatives and that is a reason they get attacked, albeit often unfairly. It's a vicious cycle. I have always thought the way to romance critics is not through disdain and defensiveness, but by being able to demonstrate results.

Regarding home schooling, my hypothesis from the literature is that strong parental involvement, individual attention, the ultimate in self-direction, and much less television watching are the salient factors that erase the achievement gap, prove that SES does not necessarily have to dictate performance, and cause home schooled kids to be two years ahead of public school peers. I used to think it was a weird approach, but I don't any more. It's particularly interesting that the qualifications of the instructor* don't appear to make much difference. Not a message education faculty want to hear! The RAND corporation found that didn't impact performance much either, not looking at home school in particular but at traditional K-12.

We ate at the Patroon Room on campus. Before she arrived, I stopped in to say hello (and goodbye as well) to JES from this site. That is only the second time that I have met "IRL" someone I only know in the virtual world! The other time was years ago, when I first started blogging. Probably should make an effort to do it more often. You get to know people rather well, at least in terms of what they share publicly, when you follow their blog. Very few of my "IRL" friends read this more than occasionally although most want me to email them my stories. I don't post reminders to my facebook friends. I update it too often and I think it might constrain me, given what a mixed bag those folks represent. (I already censor too much.) Not that I write anything I would not say in person, and not that most of it would come as any surprise to my "IRL" friends. But my sense is that it makes them feel like voyeurs. I think if you don't write online yourself you may not "get" it and wonder why those of us who do are OK with putting stuff out there.

Anyway, after she arrived, we were just sitting down to eat, had our forks poised but had not taken a bite -- the fire alarm went off. I thought it was only a drill, but after a half hour outside, it became clear that there really was a fire! This didn't put a damper on our conversation, but it certainly did on our meal. The worst part (aside from worrying about being late to class and my soup getting cold) was that we had to take the stairs. Now in my pre-2009 days, I only took stairs - a painless way to get a bit of exercise. In my current situation, I almost always take the elevator. Don't want to fall, and in a situation such as a fire, I hate being "tail-gated," get all nervous. But I managed quite well, due to my ankle brace.

Once we got back inside and resumed eating, about 50 high school students who were there for a campus tour swarmed into the room, encircled the salad bar and buffet, and completely blocked access to the food. They behaved as if they had not eaten in a month. (That's a bit of an exaggeration, the truth is their behavior was not that bad, but their large number was a challenge.) My friend remarked, "between the fire and the students, this maybe wasn't the best day to come here."

As I was paying the bill, I asked if they were indeed high school students, and then joked, "I wonder if they are told that this is the only time they will ever see the inside of the Patroon Room." It wasn't much of a joke -- students basically never go there. I'm not sure who thought it was a good idea to bring them, because a regular dining hall experience would have been more appropriate.

Linking above to that particular post of JES's reminds me, Andy Rooney died, then Joe Frazier. It always makes me think of the rule of three, and in this case, to run through the various celebrities who might be next. Then I ask myself, how can I, as a religious person who also believes in statistics and scientific approaches put any stock in a silly superstition? It is almost as bad as "step on a crack, break your mother's back." I am not a generally superstitious person and yet the rule of three often does seem to come true. However I do know that it has no basis in fact, it is just because our minds try to make sense of the unknown by finding evidence that it could be true, turning simple coincidence into something spooky. On the other hand, I do love imaginative things (such as seeing faces in the bark of trees on a dark, misty night) so why not?

Last night I got a surprise call. As it turned out, it was a day filled with friends - this call was my "best" from childhood, we met the first day of kindergarten. To use facebook lingo, she is going through the "it's complicated" status on the way to "single." Wants to visit this weekend, with a new -- ahem -- friend. Life is always interesting and full of drama. We thought it would settle down in that regard by age 50, but as it turns out - it doesn't. I told that to my niece once a couple of years ago when she was marveling at the machinations of my social life.

Our plumber/heating guy is here working on the furnace (pilot light won't say lit) and sink (new faucet). There is only so long you can make do with only a fireplace for heat. Sophie is barking her head off, it is a challenge to focus and write!

*however, skill of the teacher does -- and students do not recover from a bad three years in a row.

2011-11-07T15:01:00.006-05:00

I scanned a lot more, here are a sample:

October 15, 1961, my Christening day. I was several weeks premature (5)? So I was small for a month old.

It's funny, because most of the time on my birthday -- both as a child and adult -- I have a homemade cake, and that's my preference. But for my first it looks to be store-bought.

This is at St. Francis DeSales Church in Phoenicia.

I got the three above in the memory shadowbox my mother gave me for my birthday.

This is Bresee's Health Bar in Oneonta. I'm so glad I found it. Sadly, the Health Bar is no more. Lots of good memories from this place, including lunch there being the last time I saw a friend who died a week later. But that's hardly the only lasting impression, I ate there nearly every day and twice on Thursdays, when Main Street stayed open late. It was the site of many deep college-inspired discussions, also coffee was 25 cents a cup and two homemade cookies were another quarter -- or was it only fifteen cents? Even in the early '80s, that was dirt cheap. They had cream cheese on banana bread with a side of peaches as a daily sandwich choice. Our favorite waitress was named Grace, a tall, thin, aged, sturdy, lovely and kindly Otsego County lady, and she'd worked there for 40 years. RIP Bresee's!

I liked getting my master's on this campus. Maybe because of its roots as a normal school? Was that a harbinger that eventually I would be teaching?

I have a few different views of Bishop's Falls, including a large framed photograph. This was the spot where they started the Ashokan Reservoir. Wish I could have seen it in the real world!

2011-11-07T12:31:00.004-05:00

I tried to witness the meteor shower. Everyone else was asleep after midnight on Saturday, but I figured Sam would be willing to go out with me and wait. No such luck! After about 2 minutes he wanted go back inside. Meteor showers are not like Aurora Borealis - you have to be patient, willing to stay out there maybe an hour...certainly more than five or ten minutes, which is all I could manage. The skies were clear and the constellations easily visible, but no meteors. Oh well.

During my calm before the storm I am doing a little scanning. Here's the Watson Hollow Inn.

2011-11-05T21:57:00.003-04:00

Warm and cozy near the fireplace, having hot chocolate. And we're getting our hour back! This is one night when it doesn't matter that much, though. I am hardly even tired. Whatever, happy to go back to real time nonetheless. Hoping to see the meteor shower tonight. There is very little light pollution here, so it is a good place to see it.

2011-11-04T16:08:00.003-04:00

What a gorgeous day! Also a good one in that I have a brief lull -- caught up with everything (lots of epapers come in next week, also presentations start) - the calm before the storm so to speak. I finished the midterm marathon. One of those semesters where they were OK overall. OK means that there were only a few stunning ones; the majority were B range. A few were terrible (not due to skills but due to effort, it was so clear) and unfortunately the last one I read was the worst - almost made me mad. But, glad it wasn't the first one I read or I would still be procrastinating on that task.

So today I was able to catch up on minor details I have been putting off while I was absorbed elsewhere -- good old poop patrol and what may be the final weed whacking of the season, requesting my winter session blackboard class, trying to figure out how I can get CBS on the roku (the surface answer is you can't, but if there's a way, I will find it), organizing the emails that relate to my research in a separate folder, scheduling the last real-time chat with one of the groups in the online class.

I wore the the ankle brace part of the day on Wednesday while I was home, and all day on Tuesday and Thursday while I was on campus and elsewhere away from home. I don't like putting it on in the morning, I don't like how it slows me down when I walk (yesterday on the way to my afternoon class all I could think was "I really must look like a weird lady," but I do like that it takes away all the concern I have over twisting my ankle again, and I also like how my ankle feels as the day wears on: very good.

2011-11-01T15:06:00.001-04:00

We had about 25 trick-or-treaters. It was very busy until 7 and then tapered off. Early on I started to get worried we would run out of candy, but our neighbors turned off their lights and then the flow slowed to a trickle. Also, my ankle brace came. It is very sturdy. It isn't too heavy or bulky and it fits in my shoe, but it is hard to walk fast while wearing it. Still, I will put up with the inconvenience and wear it as much as I can.

2011-10-31T17:23:00.000-04:00

Not that I have the time! But I have been making such good progress that as a reward I scanned some of the pictures I got for my birthday.

This is Mimmie, my maternal grandmother when she was ~17 in ~1921.

My mother and me on my first birthday in 1962.

A postcard of West Hurley, which is where Mimmie grew up. This village is now under the Ashokan Reservoir. The postmark says 1909.

I didn't get this on my birthday. It is from an uncle's album, and unlabeled. However we believe it is my paternal grandmother, who died in 1933.

First birthday again

2011-10-30T18:14:00.000-04:00

I decided to check Elwyn's diary to see what the weather was like in other years. I checked 19 years from 1917 to 1975. The two most common types of weather were "generally bright and sunny. Clear still frosty evng. Typical colorful tingy autumn weather" (1959) or "a rough day, strong south westerly winds, mostly cloudy, rain squally evng" (1934).

It was not uncommon to have the first killing frost, the first flurries, or the first snowfall on the mountains. "Rained hard during night & rained this forenoon. Snow squalls on mountains. Tops of mountains white – colder" (1920). Occasionally it was really warm. In 1946, it was "brisk southerly winds. Partly cloudy Starlight evng. Real summery weather - Katydids chirping." In 1938, it was "continued warm shirt sleeve weather. New York City temperature 10 above normal." In 1936, that week was record-breaking cold: it was "coldest Oct 27 New York City ever recorded."

Sometimes something else jumps out, nothing to do with weather. It seemed to be a day he often went to the movies. On October 29, 1951, he "saw a most interesting patriotic film in color and musical feature Wait Till The Clouds Roll By." In 1947, he "went to Phoenicia evng - Interesting picture program feature film Treasure Island in cinecolor." And on October 29, 1940, "the nations first peace time national draft lottery opened at noon in Washington. First number drawn was 158, 2nd 192, 3rd 8239, 4th 6620."

2011-10-29T18:57:00.003-04:00

Quite a storm! Will have to check Elwyn's diary for this date to see if he recorded anything remotely like this. (I know the television weather speaks of records, but it is really something to read someone's words from the time.) The maple trees in the yard have barely turned color yet. They are always the last to drop leaves. The branches are snow-covered and looking very droopy at the moment. Hang in there, my friends!

I have some other things besides Elwyn's diary to post here, pictures I got for my birthday. Just haven't had the time for scanning, but I will. Eventually. I've been very on task, worked on my research all day. That was what I had on the To Do list for the weekend. I figured we might lose power, so I didn't want to procrastinate until tomorrow. I hope any outage we do have doesn't go into the week - I am hoping to get the midterms graded. But, if it does, not a biggie (except for students, who are eagerly waiting). I'm almost caught up so I am not really in a panic. Also we have an adapter that plugs into the car as an energy source, so we will be able to charge cell phones and maybe even plug in the laptop and modem now and then. So I still might be able to get some work done regardless.

Bob has been cooking! Yay! Smells delicious.

Who would have thought we'd be shoveling again so soon? (I think he will be helping this year.)

2011-10-28T17:06:00.002-04:00

The storm reports have become quite serious, so it looks like no Samsonville this weekend. Not really because of the roads, but because of the risk of losing power - which happens there routinely. The air feels like snow (as it did yesterday too). I told the students in one of my classes that and they looked at me like I was crazy. Do people not have a connection to the natural environment, an ability to detect the feel of an impending storm? Or did it just seem too early in the season?

I broke down and bought myself a brace for chronic sprained ankle that will fit in my SAS shoes, work with my orthotics and not be too bulky. There is no way it will stay good otherwise. With my other foot problems, turning my ankle and falling is inevitable. I should have done it one or two spills ago! Hopefully it will arrive in a few days. Until then, moving very carefully.

Last night we played Scruples in my evening class, as part of the moral education material. As usual, after initial reservations, once they got going, they loved it. Every semester a few tell me they want to buy the game and try it with their friends. My original from ~1990 is long gone, but I bought one on ebay because it didn't seem to be made any longer. Now I see it has been resurrected by a different manufacturer, tweaked (sort of like Quintessence LOL) and is called Scruples Millennium. (Sort of implies Y2K, but I am not sure if it is newer or came out then.) Retails for anywhere from $50-$70 if you can find a copy in stock. I doubt any student would be willing to fork over that much! The old versions seem to be widely available on ebay, though, for $15.

2011-10-28T10:46:00.000-04:00

Fell again, and re-injured my ankle. Nothing like the original, of course, but still. It seems I stop being neurotic on stairs when it is improved ~ big mistake. Talk about being blue! :-( Now where did I put that cane? The "weird lady" is back!

Looks like a big (for this early) snowstorm might be coming this weekend?

And, we had our killing frost last night. Bye spices, impatiens, coleus, and zinnias.

2011-10-27T14:46:00.001-04:00

Wow - it feels like snow!

Which reminds me, Elwyn wrote in his diary that the return to "real time" took place on September 30 in 1951. I looked it up and we are not falling behind until November 6! I remember not that long ago it was much earlier in the fall; you don't have to go back 60 years. I don't care if it is dark at 2 PM - I hate getting up in the dark. It feels like it is the middle of the night when the alarm goes off.

I thought the reason for this stupidity was so that kids don't have to wait for the school bus in the dark in the spring. That is what is always said when moving daylight savings time to earlier in the year is questioned. Hello! They are waiting for the school bus in the dark right now.

I want my hour back now!

On another subject, sort of related only because someone in government decreed it, the subject of the metric system came up recently when we were visiting a friend. We all remembered lengthy units every year in elementary school where we learned it. We were told that we were going to convert to it someday and that was why it was important. We were scolded that it was a better, more sensible system that the rest of the world used when we complained. The insinuation was that only provincial morons who were stuck in the past would resist.

Well, guess what? It was a failure and we never switched. All that instruction was a waste of time. What makes it worse is that we never learned anything about the supposedly inferior system we use every day - acres, miles, quarts and bushels were completely neglected. That information had to be taught to us by our parents. Today I know people who struggle with how many pints are in a quart.

Who couldn't have predicted that outcome? I feel it was culturally insensitive to teach us that crap and ignore the English system.

2011-10-27T12:45:00.000-04:00

Amen.

On Tuesday, I was feeling "blue." That's my preferred word choice, because "depressed" is too clinical and it implies something serious. I lost my bifocals, lost my sunglasses, dropped an earring and had no time to look for it. I rushed out without a coat, had to take the bus, and was freezing.

I knew as I was turning over my dismal attitude in my mind that the real reason I felt down was because I am over committed. That led to the usual beating up of the "I'm such a jerk because..." variety.

On the walk to my office, I found the nearest place to walk inside (since it was drizzling and I was cold), and it struck me that just a year ago, I couldn't have done it. I would have had to use a cane, and even at that, the floor would have been too slippery, and I would have been in a panic that I might fall. I would have had to walk outside, very slowly and carefully. While freezing and feeling sorry for myself. My ankle is so much better!

I arrived at my office, and there they were in my chair -- both my bifocals and my sunglasses! It suddenly turned into a good day.

By the end of yesterday, I was starting to see daylight on the workload. Another good day.

2011-10-24T18:58:00.000-04:00

Did the storm tear the town apart or did people come together? It's an interesting question. I think it did both. Environmentally, there is no question: it did damage; it literally tore the town apart. Politically, it awakened dissent. Why is that a bad thing? I suppose it could be pessimistically charactized as "tearing the town apart," but pluralism is healthy and free speech is our birthright. Finally, a community of private citizens turned out; they came together and helped their neighbors without hesitation. The only bad thing I see was the storm damage itself.

2011-10-23T19:44:00.001-04:00

Watched the 60 Minutes hatchet job on Steve Jobs. Bleh. I don't like apple products but had no opinion of Jobs, even weakly agreed about the "visionary" stuff when admirers were gushing after his death. But this segment was worse than the facebook movie in terms of painting a nasty picture, and in this case the awful aspects of his personality, value system and behaviors are verifiable, the product of taped interview, and are in an authorized biography. Ugh. Why did they bother? He's dead, let's move on.

2011-10-22T14:12:00.001-04:00

I am up to my eyeballs at the moment which translates to little posting here. Silly me, yesterday I committed to yet another project!

On Wednesday, we made a round trip to Long Island to visit my MIL in the hospital. She came through surgery OK. Bob has some concerns and so do I, but once again, it isn't my story and so I am not going to write many details. We took the Bridgeport-Port Jefferson ferry, which is how we have been getting there since the "ILs" moved "out east." It was a very rough day on the sound, but turbulent water is better than driving all the way around NYC to get there.

I used my oldest brother's gift for my birthday to buy the other thing on my amazon wish list (the first being a Kindle): a Roku player. I think my mother was amused. She had advised me to get something I would look back on someday (everyone except me asserts that I will live to be 100) and say, "my brother gave me this for my 50th birthday." I know in her mind she pictured jewelry. Maybe because I gave my brother's granddaughter an heirloom bracelet for her 8th birthday recently, I had received it for being flower girl in his wedding when I was a kid. Or maybe because that's what she would buy.

She told my brother her idea, and he said, "yeah, don't spend it at the supermarket or something" which I guess must be my M.O. So I didn't - I got something frivolous. But not jewelry! And not something that will last a decade, much less 50 years. A piece of technology! Also my M.O. I hooked it up yesterday and it is AWESOME. Highly recommended. Why would anyone pay $250 per month for cable television?

A guy came today and fixed a gutter that had been ripped down during a storm. Took him less than a half hour! Amazing. I was glad it was so fast, as the dogs barked their heads off the whole time.

2011-10-17T12:31:00.003-04:00

Yesterday, I went to the Sheep and Wool Festival with my mother. It was a much nicer weekend weather-wise than I expected. It's the third or fourth time I've gone to the festival. It gets bigger every year. For anyone interested in natural fiber yarn, sheep, goats, llamas, rabbits, alpacas, knitting, crocheting, felting, spinning, weaving - it is heaven.

Computer problems in Samsonville (again). I thought I might have to bring "old faithful" down there (my first nice computer, old, but still high end and very usable) or buy a new laptop and bring the current one down there, but I managed to get an older computer I already had there working and networked. Crisis averted for now. (I joke that if I am ever without a job, I could start a computer business. Not something I want to do, supporting my own household is more than enough ~ but it would be better than a lot of other options.)

Today, an interesting new university-wide (and by university, I mean system) "service" opportunity presented itself! It's been a decade since I've seriously considered the issue in more than an arms-length way, but it will be fascinating to draw upon some skills and knowledge from earlier in my career, and to do some networking (while consuming salad with raspberry vinaigrette dressing a la Marriott). I'm so incredibly busy -- but can't turn something like this down.

My MIL is having surgery today. Kind of an edgy day as a result.

2011-10-14T12:31:00.001-04:00

This column is so true, and that point was driven home after Irene. And the older gentleman with the bamboo pole taking charge reminds me of my father, it's exactly what he would do. Except that it wouldn't be a can of bug spray, it would be a flaming rag drenched with accelerant! I wonder if that's what it was in this case, too, but John decided to avoid the angry sound off calls from people mouthing off about how dangerous that is. It's doubtful a can of bug spray would make a dent in a basketball sized hornet's nest. A torch would work like a charm...

2011-10-12T23:19:00.001-04:00

Got a weird phone call tonight. The caller identified himself as "Chris" and asked for me by name. When I got on the phone, it was a woman, very giddy, possibly drunk. She made some obscene remarks, punctuated by hysterical laughter and some background talking, very garbled. I hung up. The call didn't register on caller ID, but I think I know who it was. Not either of the speakers but I suspect there was someone with them who I know, a very troubled person who used to be a big part of my life, but no longer is. I can't be sure, of course. Regardless, it was very unsettling. If the guy hadn't used my name it wouldn't bother me as much.

2011-10-12T00:16:00.000-04:00

My goodness! So much to comment on tonight. (Still Tuesday to me.) First Suffolk, now Albany, next...the rest of the state! Hooray!

The answer to this question is no, it's not.

Good. And you know what else? Schools should have athletic trainers. (Full disclosure, my nephew is an AT.)

2011-10-11T15:01:00.002-04:00

I've carefully considered this subject, and I don't have a problem with memorials, whether roadside or ghost bikes. I find them fascinating, in fact. It is a (relatively) recent phenomenon. A new kind of ritual. Because of the increasing popularity of cremation, meaning that their often is no cemetery plot? Because the spot where someone dies as a result of the bloodbath we call transportation is special somehow? I don't know the answer, but it is fun to speculate.

However, I have a big problem with the statement in this article, attributed to "the activists."

Sometimes people express irritation the ghost bikes are never removed.
The activists say the same question is never asked of other roadside memorials to crash victims.
"Along the highway, you see these crosses," one said. "There are no time limits on those. Why should there be one on a bicyclist?"

Why isn't the speaker clearly identified? Why didn't the writer of this story investigate whether that claim was true?

I call BS. People complain all the time about roadside memorials to crash victims. Some people don't like them because they consider them a distraction, or a road hazard. Some say they are little more than litter and don't belong on public property - or private property that is not the memorial creator's. Others, in my opinion, are in death denial, and don't like the reminder. I always think, when people complain about memorials -- they are tacky, etc. -- why can't people be more compassionate and less judgmental when someone is grieving? I am not suggesting grief is an excuse for all sorts of bad behavior but if the display isn't harming anyone then be kind.

But I suspect this unsupportable assertion was slipped into the story without attribution because of the word "crosses." The speaker (or article writer, as far as I'm concerned, being unsourced, it may as well be made up) is implying people are more tolerant of a traditional religious symbol than they are of a new age one.

That's a bunch of crap. It's a false equivalence anyway. Roadside memorials are almost never as permanent as the ghost bikes; in fact, they are often removed after a period of time.

2011-10-10T22:06:00.000-04:00

Weekend was busy and fun! Sadly, two friends were not able to come - one of their cats went missing Friday night and as far as I know he hasn't turned up. He's a completely indoor cat and they are not sure how he got out. He just vanished into thin air. I feel so bad for them.

However, we still celebrated another friend's birthday on Saturday and went to Goold's yesterday. I made the cake with 1/3 white flour, 2/3 whole wheat. Mimmie wouldn't have approved, but it came out good!

Now it's back to the grind. Midterms and school visits!

2011-10-08T12:38:00.000-04:00

Making a cake for a friend's birthday today. This was my grandmother’s recipe. I made it when he visited once before and he said it reminded him of something his mother would make so that's why I chose it. It's almost as simple as buying a Freihoffer's (and about as easy as a cake mix) plus nearly everyone has these ingredients on hand.

Frying Pan Cake

Flour 1 3/4 cup
Baking Powder 1 tablespoon
Baking Soda 1 teaspoon
Cocoa 6 tablespoons
Sugar 1 cup
Oil 1/4 cup
Vinegar 1 tablespoon
Water 1 cup

Sift together dry ingredients into ungreased pan. Make three wells in the mixture -- put oil in first, vinegar in second, finally water in third. Mix. Bake 25 minutes at 375 degrees.

Frosting:
Confectioner’s Sugar, sifted 1 1/2 cups
Butter 2 tablespoons
Coffee, brewed 2 tablespoons

Cream together sugar and butter; add coffee; stir until smooth

2011-10-07T16:00:00.004-04:00

We're covering political toleration (and the criticisms of toleration such as conflict theory) in class and I decided to share with students some examples of recent protest (Occupy Wall Street, a campus one re: anti-tuition increases / program cuts in the SUNY 2020 legislation, Tea Party, Anti-War, Anti-Illegal Immigration, the Wisconsin union protests, Westboro Baptist Church protest and counter protest) to make the material more relevant to them. Another midterm question has presented itself!

Bob had a meeting in NYC yesterday, and after it was over he went to the protest and took the above image and several others. He's really intrigued by the protests, jokes that we would have been there when we were young. This photo is a favorite, because the conflict theorists would agree very much with the message - but at the same time they would criticize the method as serving only to pacify dissenters, benefit the elite, and make an unfair system seem legitimate. It's an awesome image in that regard.

So I scouted out at least one each of all the above rallies, including one from this article about the protest this week on campus over tuition increases. That reminds me, I received an email earlier in the week telling us that UUP did not endorse allowing students to leave class to attend it. Good thing for me that these things are always on Wednesdays, a day I don't have class, since they are invariably held at 1 p.m.

The unrest does not surprise me. This is what happens when the economy sucks for so long, things are tight, people can't get jobs or borrow money.

On a happier note, busy weekend in the works. Friends are visiting. Also, going to Goold's Apple Festival.

And finally: on Wednesday, I picked all the remaining cucumbers, beans, and green tomatoes. For the past two nights, I have covered the eggplant (I already picked them but there is still a blossom that I am cheering on with little hope of results), basil, impatiens, coleus, zinnias -- while the marigolds, parsley and oregano got covered just by virtue of being near the more delicate. We wound up not having a killing frost, even though it was good sleeping weather. But my plants are safe for several days now, since it is going to be warm. (After this, I will let them go.) We haven't turned on our heat, but I have been keeping the fireplace on for Sophie. Her futon is right in front of it.

2011-10-05T17:00:00.003-04:00

St. Augustine's, our little mission church, is sixty years old. I am working on a handout about the chapel's history that I am going to give out next time I am there (October 16). This is the text piece; there are a bunch of old photos related to old West Shokan, the reservoir and the church that will be on a separate page; I created it a while ago, and it is posted here.

A LITTLE PARISH HISTORY
by Monsignor Carey
March 16, 1968

Our acquaintance with St. John’s Parish, West Hurley, began shortly after our appointment as chaplain of the Benedictine Hospital in 1939. Father James Hearon, Pastor of St. John’s at that time, asked for our help in providing Mass at Samsonville on Sundays during the summer vacation period. This service had been carried on for some time by Father Michael Fitzgerald, our predecessor at the hospital, and we were happy to follow him in providing the residents and visitors in that area of the parish.

The Mass was offered in a one-room stone cottage on the property of the late Mrs. McCullough whose daughter, Mrs. Marguerite Singer, still maintains a home there. The seats were plain backless benches placed too closely for kneeling, except in the front row, and included some benches placed on the screened porch. The attendance averaged about seventy-five, but sometimes reached close to a hundred. The difficulties brought on by the war caused the discontinuance of the Samsonville station, but led a year or two later to the reestablishment of the West Shokan mission.

In the Spring of 1944, during the pastorate of Father Bernard Nangle, a group of residents of that area led by the late Mrs. Grace Doonan, petitioned for a Sunday Mass at West Shokan. A hall over the general store of William Colange was offered at no cost to the parish, and on the first Sunday of May, 1944 Mass was offered at West Shokan for the first time since the building of the Ashokan Reservoir had eliminated the Chapel of St. Augustine, along with the old village in which it stood. By the end of June that year it became apparent that the facilities were inadequate to accommodate the number of summer people in the area, and Father Philip Nolan, who had succeeded to the pastorate after the death of Father Nangle, put forth the idea of rebuilding St. Augustine’s.

Because the parish was not in a position to undertake a building program immediately, a period of fund raising was necessary, and in this we were greatly aided by Mr. Lawrence Kelder, who not only gave generously – and continues to do so, but also put on an individual fund raising campaign among his business and personal friends in many parts of the country which totaled several thousand dollars. In addition, he with his wife deeded to the parish the land on which the new St. Augustine’s stands. The building was erected and dedicated during the pastorate of the late Monsignor James L. Riordan, who had followed Father Nolan - now Monsignor Nolan, pastor of St. Malachy’s Church (the Actors’ Church) in New York.

The architect of the chapel was Mr. John J. O’Connor of Kingston, presently a member of Halverson Associates of Kingston, who not only contributed the plans and supervision of the construction, but with his wife donated the altar and its tester or canopy. While the chapel is essentially a very simple building of concrete block construction, it has elements that distinguish it and make evident its function. The airy interior and the sanctuary with its oak decorated scheme, its handsome carved wood statues and Stations of the Cross, and its oak and bronze candlesticks have a truly devotional effect and give a very fitting background to the sacred rites.

This little vignette of parish history will give you a picture of a small part of our parish’s history and of the sacrifices of the many who made progress possible.

From the 1951 Diary of Elwyn Davis:

September 2 Sunday 54/7am   56/12pm
Rainy night & a breakfast time thunder shower & continued dismal rainy mussy all day & evng. Miserable cold weekend holiday weather. The first Mass was said this morning at 9:30 - and attended by an estimated 200, at the nearly finished new St. Augustine’s Catholic chapel on the Watson Hollow Road. Masses have previously been held for several years in Colanges hall over the store & P.O. The new church is a successor to the pre reservoir St. Augustine’s in old West Shokan from its dedication in 1893 till torn down in June 1913.

The following article was found in the diary:
   9/6/51   The first Mass in the new Chapel of St. Augustine here, was held Sunday, Sept. 2nd at 9:40a.m. An estimated 200 attended the services in spite of the heavy rain prevailing. The fine new edifice is a needed replacement to the pre-reservoir St. Augustine Church which served the locality from 1893 to 1913. The interior of the church was greatly admired by the congregation. Rev. Father Carey extended thanks to all who had in any way made the church possible. Plans for the dedication services will be announced later.

September 30 Sunday 32/7am    Back to Standard Time
A general first & killing frost this morning. Arrived clear but soon became overcast and it was a very cold chilling day - Has the feel & look of snow. The new St.Augustines Catholic Chapel was formally dedicated today with a crowded attendance.

2011-10-03T11:14:00.000-04:00

Getting down to the wire on my fresh produce. Last night I put what might be the last cucumbers (have to check the garden today; rain and mosquitoes have been a barrier), and almost the last tomatoes into the salad. Also basil, parsley and chives but those are still going strong. Until frost, that is, although all but the basil can usually withstand it. I picked the eggplant and sauteed them -- plain with just olive oil and garlic, no Parmesan. They were too precious. Consumed the last zucchini a while ago, those plants were mostly devastated by Irene, unfortunately. The first produce is so eagerly anticipated, and the last is bittersweet. But "next spring, if I'm alive..." I'm going to plant purple rather than white eggplant, and I'm going to give them each an individual container.

It is really hard to accomplish anything! Now that I can read the Mark Twain book thanks to the Kindle, that's all I want to do. I have decided I am going to go back and re-read the first 270 pages that I had finished pre-Kindle. Just didn't appreciate it enough with its tiny font; it was tortuous, instead of a pleasure. (Tried for alliteration there and came up short.)

2011-10-02T16:25:00.001-04:00

Today at church we had a lesson on some of the changes in the Roman missal. We got laminated pew cards to help us. It's going to take some getting used to because anyone who has ever regularly attended at any time since 1973 has it all memorized! Afterwards we went to Cafe Madison for brunch. It's a good place. We most often go to Columbia County for Sunday brunch, but occasionally we go there instead.

My sister took this great picture of Lucky Dog:

As you can see, my mother is getting him trained!

2011-10-01T18:37:00.005-04:00

Spent the morning cleaning (which I hate, and consequently suck at) and the afternoon reading (which I love, and can do very quickly). The Kindle wasn't a gift - it has given me back the gift of reading. I can't copy and paste as much of the book as I'd like - it would have to be the whole thing! But here are some of Mark Twain's nuggets:

[page 313] [* * * * There] are certain [sweet-smelling sugar-coated] lies current in the world which all politic men have apparently tacitly conspired together to support and perpetuate. One of these is, that there is such a thing [in the world] as independence: independence of thought, independence of [opinion], independence of action. Another is, that the world loves to [see] independence—admires it, applauds it. Another is, that there is such a thing [in the world] as toleration—in religion, in politics, and such matters; and with it trains that already mentioned auxiliary lie that toleration is admired, and applauded.

All the [talk] about tolerance, in anything or anywhere, is plainly a [gentle] lie. It does [not] [exist.] It is in no man’s heart; but it [unconsciously and by moss-grown inherited habit,] drivels and slobbers from all [men’s] lips. Intolerance is everything for one’s self, and nothing for the other person. The [main-spring] of man’s nature is just that—[selfishness.]

I was delighted - I think I will be able to fashion it into a midterm question!

[page 328] During my engagement year, thirty-seven years ago, a considerable company of young people amused themselves in the Langdon homestead one night with the game of [“Verbarium,”] which was brand-new at the time and very popular. A text-word was chosen and each person wrote that word in large letters across the top of a sheet of paper, then sat with pencil in hand and ready to begin as soon as [game] was called. The player could begin with the first letter of that text-word and build words out of the text-word during two minutes by the watch. But he must not use a letter that was not [in] the text-word and he must not use any letter in the text-word twice, unless the letter occurred twice in the text-word.

Whenever I run across something like the above, it makes me think of all that the invention of television has taken from us.

[page 373] What was he born for? What was the use of it?” These tiresome and monotonous repetitions of the human life—where is their value? [Susy] asked that question when she was a little child. There was nobody [then] who could answer [it; there is nobody yet.]

Here he was writing about a dinner where he met a young man whose father he had known when he was young, and it caused him to reflect on the sad life of his late friend, rather than to follow the dinner conversation. His friend had been a poet, but to earn money he'd had to be editor of a political newspaper; he'd suffered an accident that had caused brain damage, and the loss of both his poetry and editing skills; and finally he had been crushed to death in a railway accident.

Sadly, I will be done with Volume I in no time, thanks to my friend the Kindle. I am not sure when Volume II will be published, but I suspect it will be a while. But, not to worry. Margaret Atwood will have a new book out in a week or so, and that is next up.

2011-09-30T12:11:00.011-04:00

My alma mater / weekend house school board hired a consultant to tell them what they already knew. From the grapevine I hear that they are still in denial. See here. Enrollment is plummeting, tax rates are skyrocketing. This report only goes back five years but the trends are clear, if you go back ten or twenty or thirty years it is even more dramatic.

I am very sympathetic to issues of community schools and class size. I like small schools. I believe research supports them. However, sometimes you have to face reality. Change is hard, I know. There are a number of cuts that are going to have to be made, but many of them require state-level reform before local areas will benefit. There is one that can be done locally, almost immediately: A building must be closed.

One of the problems with implementation is that the last board came out with that as a strong recommendation, and were promptly voted out. The current board members (well, at least the ones who are left; meaning they didn't resign almost immediately after seeing what they had gotten themselves into) were elected solely because they promised to not close a school.

Whenever there is a touchy issue, one segment of the community rises up and the board turns over. When this happens, it goes from a dominated board to a factional board. It's like a case study taken from McCarty and Ramsey (1971). Often during the factional period, the superintendent is replaced, and for a time it becomes inert: The new superintendent has a lot of influence. The community snoozes, the board relaxes. However, gradually the board becomes dominated again, with the POV of the faction in the super-majority. Power shifts back to the board, and the superintendent has to go. The community starts to get restless. It is only a matter of time before a controversy lights a fire under another faction and a new segment rises up, the board turns over, starting the process again. Something I have never seen happen there is a pluralistic board. Maybe that more representative structure could better navigate the controversies, but it might not be possible.

It's a difficult district, in that it is centralized - four-plus towns consolidated into one. Each town had its own elementary school, back in the days when the baby boomers attended. Several years ago, one building was closed and the community was outraged; the board turned over. The trends in enrollment and costs have continued, and there are still too many buildings. I look into the future and see a time when eventually, it will have to be just one centralized campus. Perhaps that would end the factionalism. The only other solution would be to break up the district, and in a community schools utopia that would be wonderful, but I don't see that happening. I'm no fan of Conant's 1950s vision that ushered in centralized schools but there's no turning back the clock. Economies of scale and all that. Demographics just don't support maintaining what is, and there are state-level incentives for "efficiencies." Yes, it may be a bitter pill but denial is not a solution.

Next hot topic, there is this. Another unpleasant reality! I think it is outrageous that there are no public hearings scheduled for Chenango, Delaware, Otsego or Schoharie Counties.

Finally, a lot on my mind. Turning over an opportunity. It would be a big change. I may need to make one of those decision-making spreadsheets. Haven't done that in years. It's especially appropriate in this case. But first, research.

Added: ever have one of those spells where everything is irritating? Is the answer to that question "wine?"

2011-09-29T14:59:00.001-04:00

West Shokan got hit again! This link has my sister's photos. (An aside, why can't anyone spell our names? That's always been true of the surname, of course, but our first names as well. Maybe back in the '60s it was understandable - they were unusual names in the days of Kathy and Lisa. But today, in the era of Ailaisya and Mehkayhluh?) Anyway, between the rain, flooding and the mosquitos, this is not a nice fall. Sure my plants are all still alive -- and in some cases still producing, but it's hard to appreciate. Winter will be a welcome change.

2011-09-28T13:32:00.002-04:00

Lost my driveway in Samsonville again. Sigh.

2011-09-28T10:54:00.004-04:00

A Day's Thoughts (1985)

1. I have two little dogs who make it very hard to write. They are unreasonably jealous of two of my favorite pastimes: reading and writing. How can four things so dear to me be so incompatible? Well, at least my dogs don't inhibit another of my priorities -- sleeping. They enjoy it too.

2. I love to sleep late. That's been my attitude for as long as I can remember. I'll always forgo wearing make up or ironing my clothing if only for ten minutes more rest. I'd rather have to rush than awaken just enough earlier to afford me a bit of leisure in the morning. Consciously I agree with all those who have told me how stupid that is, and nearly every day I resolve that tomorrow will be different, but I'm not very rational at 6 a.m.! If I could, I'd stay up late every night and sleep 'til noon every day. Unfortunately, I'm one of those people who needs a lot of sleep, doesn't (and doesn't want to) work second shift, and has to work.

3. Working. True, it does give one some sense of accomplishment. I saw some television documentary the other day about women in the work force and I had to laugh when they talked about how much women love working. I'm as much of a feminist as the next person, but I don't understand how anyone can contend that either men or women actually enjoy laboring for others. I'm not pretending that women would rather stay home while men work, as in the '50s, but it strikes me as stupid to suppose that there are very many of us who prefer working to leisure. Realistically, don't we all work because we need money?

4. Some time ago I would have viciously attacked anyone who suggested that I even liked money. I still don't pretend to be one of the materialistic types whose goals in life revolve around gaining status symbols. I like to be comfortable, but I have a somewhat different view of status than many who live in this area...the affluent northern suburbs of New York City. I think status is a good education; I'm not impressed by a Jaguar. Still, I seem to have an overwhelming need for legal tender -- money to pay the rent and electric bill, a healthy checkbook with which to buy milk and bread and artichoke hearts in olive oil.

5. Why is it that so much of the food found in the supermarket is packaged in disposable containers? Every week I haul out at least one of those green plastic garbage bags to be miraculously carried away and laid to rest in some unknown place. Wouldn't it be better if stores sold food and the consumer had to provide the container? That seems like a good idea, considering the diminishing amount of space available for landfills. "Landfill," now there's a euphemism for you. I remember in my hometown we called it a dump.

6. Judging from the pattern I've established I suppose euphemisms are the next topic. It's true that I dislike them. Now why didn't I substitute the words "hate," "funny" and "write" in that last sentence?

7. Isn't it funny how hypocritical we all are...even me:

I say I hate television, yet once we got one I watch it too much.
I sneer at money, but I'd love to have a new car and fashionable clothing attracts me.
I laughed at "them" when they complained about taxes, but don't I feel resentment when I see all that money deducted from my pay?

Sometimes I wonder if life's experiences make all of us into conformists...into (gasp) conservatives. Then again, life experience has only reinforced my commitment to certain issues.

8. Speaking of movements, I've recently ascribed to the cause of animal rights. I feel strongly that we have no right to exploit those that have no voice of their own. That brings be back to my two dear little dogs.

Added 2011: Yesterday I heard that Andy Rooney is retiring on Sunday (at age 92!). So I was delighted to run across something I wrote more than half my life ago sort of in his style.

#1 is still true - but composing on the structure of a keyboard rather than with a pen in a notebook on the couch really tamps down the interference from the dogs, and with my own house and a fenced yard, I've gradually moved to larger dogs over the years - they are not quite as needy as Howie and Penny were.

#2 -- well, at some point not long after I wrote that paragraph I gave up on make-up entirely, and not because of time restrictions. Then about ten years ago I landed on a profession that didn't require me to groove with the 9-5 world.

About #3 I would say that I hit the nail on the head -- except that with aging, accomplishment and education, has come much more enjoyable work. Leisure is still better, though.

#4 is also still right on, but now I know that in a learning society, it isn't just money and material objects that determine status, but education and credentials. So despite my demeanor and humble external circumstances, people learn I have a PhD, and I am immediately elevated from --- what, I wonder? Stewarts' associate to learned professor? Suddenly I am a more worthy person. The voice in my head shouts "isn't there dignity in all work and in all workers?" (You see, that 24-year-old is still in there somewhere.) I often tell this to students during our discussions of economics of education, and get laughs. Finally, continuing with #4, still love those artichoke hearts!

#5 -- I was into sustainability before it was cool.

What the h-ll did I mean by that last sentence in #6? I can "see" myself smiling as I wrote it, presenting the reader with a puzzle.

#7 is even more true today than it was then (except the new car part. Don't care; probably didn't then, either, just wrote it to make a common connection).

And #8! Well, once again, it's more true now than it was then, if that is even possible.

Unrelated: meeting three friends who are former colleagues from my System days tonight for dinner. Really looking forward to it!

Also: Something to do with #8...I don't live in Albany County but this is awesome. I hope it passes, and other counties copy the law.

2011-09-27T14:47:00.009-04:00

After missing out in May (because we got caught in a downpour, drenched, and had to go home) we finally made it to the Red Lion Inn yesterday! My research* is in Columbia County, so we were nearly there already. Not that Castleton is far from Stockbridge, it isn't at all. It was a great late lunch, and like a summer day. (Including the mosquitos. What's up with that? What a nightmare they are. Another gift from Irene! I want to weed whack, but it is impossible. A frost before this warmth would have zapped them, too bad it also would have ended the growing season.)

Here I am in the gift shop with my jazzy new shirt jacket that my sister made for my birthday

The timing was good, because Bob is having to deal with some BS (personally) and on the professional front, I just heard the PEF vote was no! I won't detail much on either one since it's neither my situation nor job - but the impacts of the latter would be a lot easier if he could target folks who deserve it rather than the newly hired taking the hit. On the former...well, suffice to say he's a lot better at handling it than I would be. So I'm glad we got to go before things on either front worsen for him.

* There was a kid there who distracted me so much -- he was wearing a green #7 Vick jersey! UGH. Are you kidding me? What kind of a lowlife would buy such a thing and send a boy to school wearing it?

And: It's Banned Books Week! I'm not going to participate in the virtual read-out, but I am going to read lots of Mark Twain on my Kindle. I have one small issue with BBW; it should be "frequently challenged books week." I love alliteration more than the average person, but I find BBW gives students (and others) the wrong idea. They take it literally.

2011-09-27T12:48:00.005-04:00

Something I have been meaning to post here but keep forgetting is that shortly before my birthday, I submitted comments to DEC about the fracking report. They were as follows:

I have some general comments on hydrofracking in NYS. I knew during the debate last fall that Cuomo was going to ram through fracking. As a state in a time of economic crisis we need the jobs and money, so it is a straightforward cost / benefit analysis to him. It isn't that the costs are not being factored in, it is that they are devalued through mitigation, and even though there are impacts and risks, when balanced with the benefits, the benefit side wins. I like the governor (a lot) and feel he is (very) competent, but I felt at the time of the debate that it's a deal breaker issue that practically (though not quite) rises to the level of a single issue to me, and not "just" because of the water, but the view, the noise, the traffic, the social changes to rural communities. However, I am realistic. It is very likely going to happen; it feels like a forgone conclusion.

That the NYC watershed is exempt from fracking is all you need to know about the threat to water. I grew up in West Shokan, a town that was displaced in 1909 to make way for the Ashokan Reservoir. It has always been about what is best for the many (NYC metro) rather than the few (town of Olive). This is maybe the only time when having the reservoir has benefited my hometown, because to protect the drinking water of the metropolis - the watershed has to be spared.

But I hate to be NIMBY about this issue. I went to college in Oneonta and am very fond of Central New York as well. I don't find the reports about the Pennsylvania accidents anything but frightening. I can see the same type of incidents in our future. Look at PCBs and General Electric, as well as the sites of other industrial brown fields. It wasn't illegal at the time and now we are left with the mess. I think it is absolutely essential to know -- in advance - what's in the poison soup that is being shot into the rock.

We just suffered the wrath of mother nature with the twin hurricanes/tropical storms of Irene and Lee. This revised report was finished just before the flooding. I believe there needs to be additional analysis - how will you guarantee that whatever is the byproduct of fracking - it is kept safely away from us in the event of another natural disaster? What if fracking was already taking place and the flood waters contained its effluent in addition to the sewage, petroleum, pharmaceuticals, etc. it already contained? What would happen to our farmlands? Streams? Houses? Wildlife? Maybe it is time to take another trip to Pennsylvania to assess in the wake of Lee.

Even if the dangers can be mitigated there is no way you could risk sharing front and center the photo of the (supposedly) more pleasant-looking well site in the mitigation report. That is supposed to be a nice looking site? Why are the buildings red? It is nothing less than an offensive scar on the beautiful landscape.

I confess I am not up on the science of water or engineering and my analysis includes nonquantitative emotions. But that doesn't mean they are not valid in a cost / benefit analysis equation. They may be difficult to quantify, but they are real and should not be casually discounted.

The "long short-term" economic benefits to Central NY may well be persuasive to local folks. I don't know; I am not sure how the residents feel who live where the wells will be nearby, but their opinions are very important to me. I always feel when there are environmental questions that I can't stand the corporate environmental interests as much as I can't stand the industry lobbyists, so I am trying to keep an open mind, and sincerely hope that the public comment period does have a positive impact, and isn't simply superficially crossing the T and dotting the I for administrative law compliance. Thanks for reading.

2011-09-26T10:28:00.000-04:00

Yesterday in church there was more information promulgated about the upcoming changes in Mass, which will take place on November 27. Interesting to me that what we say now was written in 1973, a result of changing from Latin to the language of the people (of course in our case, that's English). The planned revisions have been in the works for nine years and are supposed to reflect improvements in translation.

Plus: The media has moved on (although the only major attention was local anyway), but the need for recovery help from Irene and Lee continues.

Consulting this afternoon, and this week, a major focus will be research and writing on the study. And securing a replacement grill for the car!

2011-09-25T18:47:00.002-04:00

I understand from the fb posts of friends that the Giants won. Yay! I don't give a d-mn about sports, especially football, btw. I am just really happy the Eagles were crushed because of that scum Vick.

And: Buckled down and I am caught up! Yahoo!

2011-09-25T08:28:00.003-04:00

For the past couple of months, I get about 10 of these spams a day. In my work account, I get several spams of this flavor per day. I can't believe that people fall for stuff like this, but then long ago I knew this guy so it's definitely true that people are gullible. Scum prey upon the desperate and the vain. So why me? :-)

Six years ago today my beloved Rudy died. It was a Sunday that year too. Something I forgot to mention two weeks ago yesterday is that September 10 was the 16th anniversary of Howie's death. Also a Sunday that year. Not that I forgot the anniversary, I just didn't record it here, in my litany of September sadness.

On the subject of the animals, Bob is taking Sophie to the "salon" to get her nails "done" this morning. That's what we call it. She won't allow us anywhere near her with nail clippers, and even barks at Bob when he gets out the clippers to cut his own (mine are long and a file is the only device needed routinely; she doesn't seem to notice). It's their private time, and afterwards he will take her out to breakfast. Sam will stay here with me. He'll freak out, which is why most of the time, I go along and take him too. We wait in the car. This is maybe the second time since Bob's surgeries that he has taken Sophie alone, not so much because of Sam but because he can't lift her into the Mariner (or before that, the truck) but yesterday he got the car serviced so he wants to use it and she can hop into that unassisted. Which reminds me, my next task, now that the computer is fixed and the telephone sorted out, is to get Ford to replace the grill on our Lincoln, which I believe is defective.

But first, I have to get caught up on work. Three days of computer tinkering have put me seriously behind!

2011-09-24T14:27:00.000-04:00

Yesterday I wrote about senior pets being abandoned. This has been less adoptable pet week, with many efforts to find homes for the overlooked. That's another reason why it was on my mind. I tend to adopt the less adoptable, but not in terms of extreme age. I can't bear to have my pets die after having them for only a couple of years. My sister-in-law adopts senior dogs. She's their guardian angel. I don't think she could take the dog in the flyer at the salon (because she has two dogs already, one a senior with health issues that she adopted a year ago, and there is also a third dog on premises, since she has my nephew's most of the time). But I'm sure there are others out there like her, and if anyone would know them, it's my hairstylist friend.

2011-09-24T10:49:00.006-04:00

It looks like I have conquered the virus. Bob used the machine all last evening with only minor issues. Right now I am doing a defrag and then will create a restore point.

If you have landed here because you have a rootkit virus; are searching because your tcpip.sys (or apparently another .sys file) has been destroyed; you cannot connect to the Internet due to a virus; are getting an error message when you try to repair your network connection (such as "theTCP/IP Protocol Driver service failed to start due to the following error: The system cannot find the file specified"); avast (or your other virus checker) is disabled and will not turn on or repair; icons have vanished on your desktop or various system files are missing from your computer; the result is a freeze or impossibly slow response when you try to open network connections in control panel; the machine won't roll your computer back to a restore point; and/or you are getting low virtual memory error messages, you may be a redneck. No, only kidding. You may have come to the right place!

Read this. It's very helpful, sort of a general overview. There are lots of other fascinating materials at that site that explain the history of malware, various recent exotic threats, etc., if you are interested in reading more on the subject.

I have other computers that I can use to search and download tools; if you do not, take a flash drive somewhere and download all the tools you need. Even if you have one or more of these already installed, download a new version instead of relying on what's already on there. I downloaded the latest version of avast, also the avast removal tool to get rid of the compromised version that was installed [and I then installed the updated avast last, after getting rid of the virus], malwarebytes, kapersky anti virus, cc cleaner, combofix, copied them to a flash drive, booted into safe mode, and ran each one. (I also tried sophos, and what it found was right on, but you will have to google each file it finds that is suspicious but not automatically flagged to be sure it is OK to remove, and I think combofix may take care of that automatically.) A couple of the anti-virus checkers had to reboot and run in regular mode, and I allowed it.

It took me two days to solve -- the first was mostly shots in the dark, since I did not really know what to hunt for, hit a bunch of dead ends, and feared that a reformat/recovery/reinstall was going to be necessary (and naturally I cannot find the recovery disk so would need to buy one and wait for it to come...price with shipping, $50...maybe better to invest those funds in a new cheapie laptop instead? And I noticed lots of scary things in searches suggesting the virus might survive even wiping the machine...not sure if that is true, btw, lots of junk information out there) until I arrived at a partial solution that restored network connectivity (using steps 11-19 posted by hublerb in this thread), but did not remove the virus.

However, once I reinstalled avast in that state, I immediately was alerted that a virus was found, and what it was (although it could not be removed and it disabled avast and network connectivity again). So the second day I had that piece of information to go on, and arrived at the fix. Good luck!

Later: I should add that I decided to switch (on the laptop only) to avg anti-virus from avast, since the virus got through and avast kept getting disabled.

Still Later: The virus, or I think more likely everything that I did to wipe it out also lost the file associations in Bob's log on (not mine). So I used this to restore them.

And still later: Bob tells me that his log on was messed up long before the virus took hold, and he had been using mine. So that might not have been part of this, or might have been the first warning signal. (Although I believe we got it on Tuesday, so maybe not.) Regardless, it is all fixed and working fine now.

2011-09-23T18:53:00.002-04:00

Something I have not mentioned is that my mother made a memory box for my birthday with pictures from infancy and childhood, a baby sweater Aunt Ital made me, and a copy of my story: A Cat in a Boat pinned inside. I read the story to my guests after dinner. Also modeled the shirt my sister made for me (which got a ton of compliments when I wore it on Tuesday, among them, "she's so talented." Yes, she is.) Eventually, I will post the pictures here.

In honor of yesterday's flirtation with mass transit, I dug out something that was thus inspired:

Exodus from the Cube Farm (1998)

Like clockwork, at 5:15

The shuttle arrives

A woman wearing a sleeveless demin shirt stops chattering and boards

Still hot even at this after work hour

A middle aged man lugs his gut aboard, perspiring

His thin greyish ponytail denying the bald spot on top of his head

An aging hippie, perhaps?

The door screetches shut behind him

Is the air conditioning broken?

The bus echoes the crowd's groans of disappointment as it lurches away

2011-09-23T16:39:00.008-04:00

On facebook, I am a fan of several animal shelters, and recently, I also spent some time on petfinder, since my mother was "in the market" for a dog. I cannot believe the number of OLD animals that need to be re-homed. Who would give away a senior pet? A couple days ago, I got my haircut, and I noticed that my stylist had a flyer posted advertising a nine-year-old dog that was free to good home. I asked him about it. He said he didn't know the people, but a co-worker of his wife's was "downsizing;" the last kid had left for college and they were moving to a condo, and among the things they were shedding were their two dogs. He told me he had made it his mission to find new homes for them, and he'd already successfully placed the seven-year-old. This led to us exchanging how incredulous we are over such behavior, and how despicable such people are. (And people wonder why their adult children move far away from them and rarely visit. No mystery there!)

Speaking of facebook, full disclaimer is that I do appreciate it for the connections it has kept and made. I have a strict policy that I never friend or accept friend requests from current students. But what to do when someone I don't like sends a friend request? This has happened to me twice. Ignore is an option of course, but it still seems rude. It seems I have another moral dilemma, less important than yesterday's spider one.

I am still struggling with the laptop, but I made progress. Discovered what the problem is. It's bad, a rootkit virus. I am not giving up yet!* On a happier note, I solved the phone problem. They are giving me a "dry loop" for DSL, and a credit on the telephone back to February! So with the credit and a la carte DSL I won't have to pay anything for another two months. Yay!

From the "if we were real investors, we'd be trouble" file: about two weeks ago, we sold some collectible silver we had for a really, really, really long time. We knew the price was up, and it seemed like good timing. It had never been worth this much before, and for a significant period, it had been worth less than what we paid. We wound up making money on it, which was awesome. It paid for our Irene storm damage in Samsonville (lots of gravel). Was it ever good timing! Yesterday it went down 9 percent, and today it plummeted another 18 percent!

Finally: I received a link to this from Wooden Horse Publishing, in an email that warned and asked that recipients tell others: "Be careful if you write online and quote other sources, even in comments. In a recent blog post we highlighted a company called Righthaven LLC - a business founded solely to monitor and sue small websites and blogs."

* Added: I think I fixed it! Cautiously optimistic. I have rebooted, and it's working! Now running another scan and preparing to create a restore point. Fingers crossed...if it's good to go at this point, it "only" took two days. However, no reformat/recovery needed. If I have indeed sorted it out, I will write more details and pointers, for the google searchers who land here in a panic, hoping to solve their terrible virus problem.