Don't tell me there's not a chance of being bitten by a brown recluse spider. Or, for that matter, that medical professionals are even close to being eager to make this "myth" diagnosis. On July 4th in 1984, I was at a Long Island beach. The next morning, as I was taking a shower, I noticed I had an extremely itchy bug bite on my calf. I didn't think much of it. Later that day at work, I noticed my calf area surrounding the bite was swelled so much that my pant leg was tight. I showed the bite to a co-worker, and he agreed that it looked a little strange, but still I didn't think much of it. Still later, we went out to dinner in NYC with friends. By this time my leg really felt odd. Again I inspected the bite, and my friends agreed that it looked weird. By the time we arrived at our stop on the railroad late that night, I couldn't walk. Bob and the conductor had to help me off the train and down the escalator from the platform. We took a cab home, and I foolishly went to bed, but I couldn't believe an insect bite could be anything serious.

In the morning, I couldn't get out of bed. A friend who was going to help with a barbecue we were having that day arrived, and she looked at my leg, called her mother who was a nurse, and she told me to get to the emergency room immediately. I didn't have health insurance at my crappy fairly new job in an artists' representative's office, and although I was reluctant, by this point I had no choice but to take the advice. With help, I put on shorts, even though I needed a shave there was no way I could shower, and pants were out of the question by now. I sat in the emergency room with my dark purple, throbbing leg, while almost every other patient was taken ahead of me. Their lacerations and broken legs just seemed more serious to the staff, I guess.

When the doctor looked at my leg, he was stumped, but he said it was very serious. In fact, he wanted to admit me. The emergency room was filthy, it seemed to me that they didn't know what was wrong (and besides, it was only a bug bite!), there was my lack of insurance (and salary so low that eventually paying the bill seemed an impossibility), and plus, we were having people over for a BBQ! So I refused to be admitted. Instead, I got a topical ointment, instructions to soak and elevate my leg, and a prescription for antibiotics.

Days passed and my leg got no better; in fact, it may have been worse. I visited an upscale dermatologist, who told me from behind a serious sunburn that I had to pay $275 to become his patient before he would treat me. I refused his generous offer, and hopped on one leg the several blocks back home (in addition to little money, we had no car). I looked in the yellow pages, and found the name of a general practitioner named Dr. Santos who charged only $25 for an office visit. He took me right away. I remember sitting in his shabby office, where his only staff was a nurse/receptionist. He examined my leg, declared that I had been bitten by a fiddleback spider, and said that aside from the antibiotics, all the treatment I had received so far had been wrong. My leg should not be elevated or soaked, although I would have to stay off it for quite some time, and not move around too much. He gave me a prescription for some little pills that he called anti-venom, and he said that they would make the poison leave my system. He said it was likely that my immunity would be impacted by the episode for some time. Dr. Santos was from Puerto Rico, and so I figured he knew about exotic spiders.

My leg healed with no problem, and what he said about my immunity wound up to be true - for several years I caught every cold and flu that went around. Later I researched fiddleback spiders, and discovered that they are the same as the brown recluse, which is not commonly found in New York. However, in the past few years, I have heard of maybe five other incidents, mostly in Long Island and one in Schenectady. The Schenectady case was in a trucker, and the speculation was that he had been bitten while on a trip.

I have great respect for scholarly research - and the spider guy in this article does seem to have the stats. I admit I did not see the spider that bit me. But my leg looked exactly like pictures I have seen of brown recluse bites, and my symptoms were the same as those listed. I certainly didn't have cancer, and believe me, there is no way this was poison ivy. In my experience, sometimes simple wisdom is more powerful than stacks of studies.

Anyway, my money - all $25 of it - is on Dr. Santos being right. I will always be thankful to him for saving my leg - and maybe my life - in his humble practice. And after that I really took the "stay off the dunes" signs to heart.

The Chronicle's Wired Campus blog has picked up the story of the adjunct's firing.

Long time no post. I am so busy with my summer class, a book deadline, and weekends in S'ville at the pool. It is so hot! The A/C here in Castleton makes it bearable, but the pool only barely does - you just can't sleep while swimming (or at least it isn't a good idea). I think we will have to get a portable air conditioner for there. Well, at least the plants love the heat and humidity. I already picked two tomatoes!

This is interesting. I have had some charismatic students over the years, but maybe since I am not into robbing the cradle, I've not had too many feelings about their attractiveness, much less their "hotness." And posting about it in a public forum? No way.

But I do feel a little uncomfortable on this subject, for two reasons. The first is that this instructor was a fellow adjunct. I assume he was fired over the inappropriateness of his posts regarding a female student (but I confess, I didn't read the full article, as I am not registering). However, I wonder, in his less-than-secure position, could he be fired for making any comments about students?

The second has to do with that last sentence. I struggle with what is acceptable to write here. I have written on this subject several times before, when this journal was newer. I'm not anonymous and have no desire to be, but occasionally I miss my private journal, where I could write whatever and not worry who might read it (though anything written down might be read by, and offend someone, someday). It is the whole question of how much censoring is necessary. This is true even in fiction, people always speculate about how much is based on true events and inspired by real people. Does censoring dilute good writing so much that it becomes lifeless - and pointless? (Not that random posts in a public forum are always good writing.) Or is it best to only write things that you don't mind others reading?

I've (mostly) resisted the temptation to over disclose about my classes, out of respect for students. I don't want them to stumble here and be hurt (even if on occasion there is one that would benefit from a reality check). But I have done some reflecting that has been more revealing.

Here are three sets of examples: first, is this too risky? Or this? Or this?

Second, how about this? Or this? Or this?

Third set of examples, this, this, and this.

And now for something unrelated: we saw Cinderella Man last week. I recommend it, it was great!

On Friday, we saw War of the Worlds. This is another time when I didn't agree with what Ebert wrote in his review. I liked the movie, and was pleased that - aside from the contemporary setting in the U.S., and the main character being a divorced dad, in many elements, it was faithful to the H.G. Wells book. It was very scary and exciting. I guess Ebert must not have liked the original story much, as after reading his review, it seemed to me that he expected a different plot. If important elements had been changed (such as why the aliens were here, why they destroyed so much, or what the machines that inflicted the carnage looked like) then the movie would not have been worthy of the title. No matter what Ebert may think, H.G. Wells' book was awesome, and this movie celebrates that. My only criticism is that it is way too loud (as are so many action movies).

Here's a picture of the orange day lily in Samsonville, followed by one of our activities on the 4th of July:

I (finally) received a job offer for the position I interviewed for back in May. I thought about it overnight, and today I called and declined. It was a very good job, and turning it down was bittersweet. But I love the challenge and autonomy of teaching, and couldn't see myself joining the 9-5 administrative bureaucracy again. Still, it was nice to be asked.

A sample of my beautiful flowers...

More thoughts about yesterday's post.

It validates to me, one more time, that "legal" does not mean "moral," does not mean "ethical," does not mean "right." Ugh. What an outrage! Something about land really makes me crazy, makes me want to get a pitchfork and chase trespassers away.

Eminent domain always reminds me of Star Trek, and the stupid insistence that the good of the many outweighs the good of the few, or the one, stated as if it was a fact, and not debatable. I wasn't alive to see 10 small hamlets gobbled up but the lives of those small town folks being erased for the good of a distant city still resonates. I guess that isn't a surprise, as the visual reminder is there, and the struggle continues. So this decision comes as no surprise to me. After all - why should the concerns of little people get in the way of sprawl?

On a sort of related note, I started to read Tin Horns and Calico. Maybe the offended folks in Connecticut should study a copy!

I am done reviewing that awful book! I laughed as I was filling in the reviewer's sheet, it asked "is it OK to quote you on the book jacket?" Of course. But I'm not sure it will be good for sales.

I am almost done with the five chapters of a book manuscript I agreed to review for a publisher. It is on economic and social history of education, and it is terrible. I mean, there are some good things in it, but it is mixed around with so much crap that although it is written in an accessible format, I have been tempted many times to forfeit the honorarium, and throw it into my recycle bin, where it belongs. Then, the editior in me is itching to correct all the grammatical errors and typos, but that is not my job so I am resisting. I should be finished tomorrow, and then I can get started on my other projects. My summer class starts Monday (luckily it is ready) and I have my own manuscript to edit.

On a happy note, my plants look great! Even the seeds are sprouted. They love the heat, even as I wilt. For veggies, I planted tomatoes, beans, cucumbers, basil and other spices in Castleton, and zucchini and muskmelon in Samsonville.

And I took my first swim of the season on Sunday! The pool is still kind of greenish, but the water is already warmer than it was in August last year.

Great news for horses and animal lovers! Thank you, John Sweeney. For this reason alone, if I could vote for you, I would. (But I can't, as Castleton was gerrymandered into Mike McNulty's district.)

This is a great idea. Good for Williams. I know I prize my golden apple, and despair when I get even one negative evaluation. Every semester, occasionally in an essay, and most recently in discussion, I ask students to think about a role model or mentor they have had in education, and to share what made them special. Some choose a teacher, some a coach, a few choose a family member, or more rarely, a college faculty member. I also ask whether it is a reasonable expectation of schools, and if so, whether not being able to identify someone means the system failed.

Sometimes students have wonderful stories to tell, and I encourage students who feel this way to let the source of inspiration know about his or her impact. My purpose is not so much to get students to give thanks (although that is a worthy outcome), but to spark students to model this behavior when they become teachers. I'm not saying that teachers deserve to be undercompensated, but teaching isn't about making money, or going through the motions, putting in time and doing the countdown to retirement, or at least it shouldn't be. Teaching is as important a profession as there can be, and when it is your vocation, you are truly blessed.

Not really the same subject, but in the same realm. As a member of my union, UUP (an organization for which I have nothing but respect), I receive numerous publications from educational organizations. One is New York Teacher, which is produced by NYSUT (an organization I don't hold in the same high regard as UUP). In the recent issue, there was a letter to the editor entitled "Wal-Mart not a good investment for retirees." The writer refers to this article in American Teacher, which details how bad Wal-Mart is for communities, then notes that in the Spring 2005 issue of Your Source (from the NYS Teacher's Retirement System), investments in Wal-Mart stock total $688,011,504. Bravo to the letter writer for pointing this out! (Full disclosure: I am not fond of big box stores.) Following the letter is a comment from a member of the TRS board, which says, in part: "Divesting from investments that benefit the members for their future retirement earnings, due to social reasons, would be a breach of fiduciary responsibility on the part of the TRS and the trustees."

Turn the page, after the letter and the TRS board response, and there is this: "Avoid Wal-Mart in Back to School Shopping." Truly amazing! Now, I wonder how advocating for a boycott can "benefit the members for their future retirement earnings?"

All I can say is that few things annoy me more than such stunning hypocrisy.

On a completely different subject, in the crushing heat, we cleaned up the remnants of the foundation job, moved the shed, put the dogs' fence back up, planted the window boxes, hanging baskets, containers, and vegetable garden, and put up the garden fence. I never drank so much water in my life. But it is done, and it was worth it. The pool awaits this weekend!

Hurray for Saugerties! It will be interesting to see how the county legislature votes. Now, how about some home rule for Olive over the large parcel issue?

This (from the Chronicle, but for a change it is free) doesn't seem like much of a revelation.

And now for some recent pictures...

First, the foundation is done!



We also had the main house's repaired.



And some of the flowers.

Here is the progress on the bathroom foundation as of noon yesterday:



And here is the trailer filled with the old foundation:

A Book Meme

(Via Sya.)

1. Estimate the total number of books you've owned in your life.

I have no idea -- at least a thousand, I guess. I have book cases everywhere, in both houses, and a bunch in my office at work.

2. What's the last book you bought?

Tin Horns and Calico, by Henry Christman. I'm not sure it is the last book I bought -- I also purchased several from Amazon.com at about the same time, but Tin Horns is the last one that arrived -- yesterday. It is about the Rent Wars in the Hilltowns of Albany County, NY. The current large parcel controversy in the Town of Olive reminds me of the Rent Wars, and a friend suggested I read it. It is out of print (from the 1940s) and finding it was no easy task, but the marvel of the Internet didn't disappoint. My first edition came all the way from a library in Nevada. The last reprint was in the 1970s, and what's interesting is that the '70s paperback edition is more expensive than the first edition.

3. What's the last book you read?

I am currently reading another book from the 1940s, My Home is Far Away, by Dawn Powell. My sister lent it to me over the weekend.

4. List 5 books that mean a lot to you.

Wow, only 5? I'll give it a try, although some authors mean a lot to me, so for a couple of these I am narrowing it down to an author and then choosing one book he or she wrote.

The Autobiography of Mark Twain, by who else? He's my favorite author, and I especially love this book. I can read it over and over. Whenever I feel sad, I pick it up and he makes me laugh. I could have filled this favorite five list with titles that he wrote, but I'll resist.

Oryx and Crake, by Margaret Atwood. She is my favorite contemporary author, and again, this list could have been filled, or at least dominated, by her books.

The Adventures of Pinocchio, by Carlo Collodi. This would have topped the list when I was a kid, but not the crummy, dumbed-down Disney-fied version.

The Winter of Our Discontent, by John Steinbeck. My favorite of his books, this really resonated with me when I read it years ago.

The Scarlet Pimpernel, by Baroness Orczy. A favorite from my teenage years, the language and absurdity of the situations are very funny. I have read three other books in the series (I think there are over a dozen? Something like that) which aren't quite as good. But one serious caveat, there is some anti-Semitism toward the end of the first book in the series, which has always bothered me. It was sanitized from modern adaptations of the story.

5. Tag 5 people!

No, I don't forward junk mail, or tag people with memes.

Now here's someone who could identify with my stories about poop patrol. These rates strike me as too cheap. I wonder what he gets for the annual Spring cleanup?

On another note, but still yard-related, a crew is here working on our bathroom foundation. It is beyond needing to be replaced, and I am so happy we are finally having it done. The dogs have pretty much calmed down, at first I thought the barking would make me insane.

Update: I may be immune to barking, but the jackhammering might push me over the edge. The dogs are numb, they seem to realize that barking is no use, the machine wins. The foundation is mostly gone now, the bathroom is held up by a series of jacks. Strange, to see it floating.

One of my students from the Spring semester wrote in her journal about not having a television. She said people look at her incredulously when they find out and then ask her, "are you a vegetarian? Do you home school your kids?" She said someone she knew from work was talking about "Ally" and for a long time she thought they were referring to a friend, until she learned there was a TV program called Ally McBeal. She wonders if not being familiar with this part of popular culture will harm her kids.

I think the opposite is true. I didn't have a TV for years, and now I don't have cable. Arguments about quality television fall on deaf ears. Even the better stuff is mostly crap, and watching it is such a passive activity. Better to read, to develop one's imagination through play, to do crafts and art, to go outside in the fresh air with your dog.

When I was a kid, our TV was black and white (which wasn't all that unusual, but color was becoming common). We got one channel, CBS 3 from Hartford, CT. As a result, I never became an addict. Maybe I wouldn't have anyway. I believe my generation is the first that was weaned on the television, and that wasn't a good thing. Today it is even worse.

Strange day. For the second time in two weeks, I am nervous. Two weeks ago I surprised myself by being nervous over the awards ceremony. I'm not sure why, I didn't have to do anything except go up to the podium and shake the dean's hand when my name was called. Today it is the interview.

I am not normally a nervous person, and in fact I have been accused of not having a pulse, or having only one speed (reverse). But that is only a partial picture. As a student I was always nervous when I had to give presentations. I would drop a class that required public speaking. Eventually I forced myself to do them, there really is no way to avoid it in graduate school, but I was never glib. I remember blushing, or at least feeling like I was blushing. Practice does make perfect (either that or it is the comforting status differential) and that fear is long gone - I could wing it and BS my way through any class, if I am not careful it can take the hook (or the gong, I like that image) to shut me up.

But I notice I don't get nervous in the same way any longer. It manifests itself physically - and there is nothing I can do about it. My hand or leg shakes. I feel dizzy. My vision is blurry. I become obsessive-compulsive, and endlessly check and re-check my paperwork and all the details. Why do I put myself through this? I wonder. Nothing is making me do it. But it is probably a good idea to get practice, to force myself to stare it down, to win. Wish me luck!

Here was a jolt. As I killed time on campus this morning, another faculty member and I were discussing whether to give special consideration to a student (who doesn't really deserve it, but I am probably too rule oriented, bureaucracy lover that I am). "She is an older person," he says, by way of explanation. I nod, and fidget. I have access to the records system, and had just finished looking up her grades. I had noted her date of birth, and it is about one year later than mine. I'm not all hung up on age or anything. I don't wear make up, or dye my hair. When everyone in the room except you is 20 - and new ones come in every year to replace the ones who have aged, there is no point in clinging to denial. I don't know how old the other faculty member is - my guess is that he is probably younger than I am, though he looks considerably older (of course that is just my admittedly biased opinion). "Older person." Hmmm. I guess it happens to all of us, try as we might to run away from the truth.

I'm in one of those moments where my to do list is growing, but none of it is urgent, so I accomplish nothing productive, and the inevitable result will be all kinds of pressure in a few weeks. In my dreams I am organized, the kind of person who does a little bit here and there along the way and is done in plenty of time. In reality, I am driven by deadlines. This is the good advice I dispense to students: don't procrastinate. But I guess it should be followed by the tired cliche "do as I say, not as I do." On the flip side, I never miss a deadline, the product comes out fine, even (at times) spectacular, and most people don't guess that I got there by burning the midnight oil. So I surf, write email, go outside and watch the flowers grow, all the while feeling a little guilty (just not enough to get moving).

I couldn't resist...I sent this note to the board of directors. (The link to the speech and her original explanation have now been removed from the Pepsi website, and replaced with a brief note of apology.)

Recently I have noticed some criticism of Pepsi's President's remarks at the Columbia School of Business commencement speech. I would like to thank you for making the text of the speech available on the Internet. I have now read both the speech and the explanation.

I am sure you are getting a lot of feedback from both reasonable folks and nutjobs, so I don't really expect a response. But thank you to whomever is reading this, anyway. I hope I am in the former, not latter, category.

I have sat through several commencements, a few of my own, most recently this past weekend, when my nephew received his bachelor's degree. Some are boring, or just too long. Some speakers are too caught up in politics, and they fail to realize that commencement addresses are occasions filled with pride for the graduates and their loved ones – speakers should be brief, funny, and most important – inspiring. Reproaching the audience about being ugly Americans is not exactly inspiring.

The president’s middle finger analogy for the United States is just plain offensive, and it shocks me that she would think otherwise. Giving someone the middle finger is a crude and inappropriate gesture. Too often people who suffer from road rage resort to it. Her explanation is not convincing – yes, there is no doubt that she meant the U.S. is important as the middle finger is to the hand, but it is also clear that her intention was to caution the graduates about the U.S. being the other meaning of middle finger – flipping the bird.

Over 20 years ago, I worked at one of the Pepsi flashcubes, along the platinum mile in Purchase, New York. I was a nobody, a temp. It was an OK job, not a bad place to work for a few weeks. Young as I was, I was amused by the backstabbing among those who were vying for management promotions. I am now a professor of education. Sometimes students who are in the school of business take my courses as electives. In my experience, plagiarism is a growing problem – and I am sad to report that when I have encountered academic dishonesty in my classes, it is often school of business students who are the perpetrators.

If she wanted to give advice – particularly in light of the recent business scandals that have plagued major corporations - she might have referenced the importance of being an ethical business person. Or considering the enormous salaries that are paid to individuals such as Pepsi’s president, she might have spoken of caring about the less fortunate, of giving back to society, of making a difference through service to others. Certainly she could have spoken about the importance of cultural sensitivity – but using the middle finger analogy was pathetic, particularly for someone in her high position, and for someone who has reaped enormous rewards from the U.S.

The true irony is that about the only worthy product Pepsi sells is oatmeal. If giving good advice was the point, what about some reflection on the evils of junk food? How do soda and potato chips benefit the United States – or for that matter, the globe?

The latest on the school budget vote.

With the adoption of the large-parcel bill, district property owners in Woodstock and Lexington saw 2004-05 school tax rates reduced by 77 cents per $1,000 of assessed value; Shandaken saw rates go down by $2.49 per $1,000; Hurley saw a 51-cent increase per $1,000; Woodstock saw a 77-cent reduction; Marbletown saw a reduction of $1.10 per $1,000; and Olive, which has yet to complete a townwide property revaluation, saw an increase of $310.97 per $1,000.

Hmmm, $310.97 per $1,000 increase v. .77 per $1,000 decrease...duh, it failed. (And in whose twisted mind was that "equity?")

Now that I am free of the heavy workload generated by the end of the semester, you'd think I would have lots of fascinating things to write...but I don't. I have not been able to catch up on sleep yet, since every morning I have been awakened by the telephone. Today it was a wrong number. Twice.

I have a fair amount to do this summer. I already started to get my work space organized. Now, I have to send all of my students the promised email memo with a breakdown of their grades (it doesn't seem urgent this time around, since only two students have emailed me to complain, one B+ wanted something higher, and one A- wanted A. That may be a record). There is the Gale Group book on education to update. Also, I am reviewing a few chapters of a new textbook on the history and sociology of education. Then there is the summer course to teach during Session II, and designing the new course I will be teaching in the Fall. And there is always student advisement to do.

This spring, I have not done much of my favorite summer activity, yard work. Soon I will get busy. I am one of the volunteer gardeners at Historic Cherry Hill, and on Saturday I am going to put a couple of hours in there. I have lots of plans for Castleton, and this year, if I can figure out the watering-from-a-distance dilemma, I am hoping to grow zucchini in Samsonville, since my Castleton yield has been disappointing for two years. Not enough sun for squash, I guess, and since space is at a premium, I am going to put in a more prolific crop.

Several weeks ago, the weather reporters on the news starting talking about how things can be planted after May 1, and I laughed at their ignorance. Since then we have had several nights that were below freezing. I think people used to observe the rule that there can be no outside planting in this zone until after Memorial Day. I think this is the best practice. I have never had my tomato plants killed by late spring frost.

On the home gardening front, I don't think I mentioned it here, but for the first time ever, I did not have to do my usual disgusting spring task. If you are curious, here is my report on this task in 2004 and here it is in 2003. (I guess I had better things to write about in 2002, when this journal was new.) Last fall I vowed I would go outside all winter and clean up after the dogs immediately, no matter the weather, time of day or what else I had to do. I kept my promise, and waded out in the yard in the deepest snow, shivering in the dark in my night clothes, dodging thunderbolts. I was motivated by horrible past memories.

As it turned out, due to Rudy's long illness this winter, I had to check regularly to see his status anyway, and sometimes to try to "catch" his urine (eventually he grew to hate this, and would hide behind the shed or in a bush so I couldn't catch him, what with having to wade through deep snow in night clothes in the dark while dodging thunderbolts). I don't think I have ever been so involved with dog excretions. It was part of my daily activities and many of my conversations. I always hoped to report that "Rudy peed, and it looked good."

Anyway - deep snow, freezing temperatures, and thunderbolts aside (yeah, I know there is almost never lightening in the winter, it is possible my imagination is embellishing just a little), I was rewarded when the thaw came, and the yard looked and smelled great. No need to spend hours in a bad mood scraping the top layer of soil into a muck bucket, and wondering why it is I love dogs so much.

Ha, I guess I did have something to write about, but "fascinating" isn't the best word to describe it.

Back to my task list, I have an interview for a job in administration (not at the university) next week. Any more information on that will have to keep.

Goodbye large parcel. Well, not quite. But now everyone (except the worthless board president, it seems) has to admit that "Olive Matters!!!"

From the district, here is a tally of the unofficial results. Read it and weep, reservoir coveters!

I submitted grades (with 44 minutes to spare). What a relief. I have been working nonstop with only minimal sleep since May 4 (well, except for going to Vermont, spending the day on campus for the awards ceremony, and attending my nephew's graduation from the College of St. Rose) and I am tired.

In a few days, I will be starting the 2006 update of the education book that I wrote for Gale Group in 2002 and revised in 2004, but tomorrow I am going to sleep! (Unless angry student emails demand a lot of time, that is. The grades are not supposed to be available for students to view on the online system until May 18, but if the past is any indicator, they are probably accessible already.)

Spent yesterday on campus, that will be my last day for the spring semester. We had a faculty luncheon at the new library, and from the nice conference room all the chairs set up for the undergraduate commencement on Sunday were visible. I guess they are not limiting tickets for guests, and so must have it outside. I hope the weather holds!

Afterwards, there was the awards ceremony, which was very festive. Mine was first, and I got a really cute engraved gold apple paperweight, much better than a plaque. Three faculty got awards, and then the Dean awarded student scholarships. Three of the donors were there, and I thought that was especially nice. I tried to find a link on the internet to a picture of the paperweight, but all the ones I found were tacky versions with clocks or made of some other material (usually brass or crystal).

Then Bob and I celebrated at the Arlington House. It was great!

Unbelievable. Hurray for Marianne. Stop meddlin' with Castleton, ACLU.

This is going to be an interesting election. What jerks are on the board. Unfortunately, being subject to (extreme) taxation without representation, I am not allowed to vote in it.

It was freezing, and the ride is very long, but we had fun in Vermont. On the way up, we took Route 7. Very scenic, also very, very, very long. We stopped in Manchester, and Bob went to the Polo Outlet.

Once in Burlington, we stayed at the Clarion (the room was actually a suite, complete with kitchenette and jacuzzi) and our niece showed us her college, St. Michael's. We then ate at the New England Culinary Institute Commons (very impressive and delicious).

On Sunday, we visited the Shelburne Museum. We were pressed for time - and it was very cold - so we went to three of the sites: the Collector's House (very interesting and different), the Lighthouse (very cool, and it reminded me a bit of our Castleton house), and the Ticonderoga (where we took a guided tour). You could easily spend a couple of days there, there was much more to see, even this early in the Spring.

On the way back, we took the ferry from Charlotte to Essex, and picked up "our" (NYS) Northway. That made the trip home somewhat faster, but it still is very long. The ferry was quite an experience, though - I'd never been in a car on a ferry! It was very rough! Almost scary. The animals stayed in Samsonville - so Bob took a brief nap there when we picked them up before we headed back north to Castleton.

Thursday Threesome

Onesome: This--is the one thing you need to get finished today! What would that be?

It doesn't have to be finished today (my deadline is May 16) but I need to make some progress on end-of-semester grades.

Twosome: and a-- project you'd like to get started on this weekend would be?

I am not planning to accomplish a lot this weekend. Going to Burlington, VT this weekend to visit my niece.

Threesome: Day--Scenario: tomorrow is suddenly 'your day'--school is out, the kids are covered; you're shift is handled at work; you have no obligations! ...and you have gas and spending money. What are you going to do with your time?

If it isn't raining, work in the yard! If it is raining, work on my Mimmie book.

I really don't understand this. How can someone be convicted, but allowed to keep the victims? The judge must be a real jerk.

Well, it is official - on May 11 I will be awarded the 2005 Excellence in Teaching Award of the School of Education. I found out yesterday. I am pretty happy, this has been a good semester.

Rumor has it that I am up for an end-of-semester teaching award; one of the faculty congratulated me, and when I asked "why?" he told me. A while ago I suspected I was nominated, because the secretary, a terrible liar, asked me some questions that made me suspicious. But then I forgot about it. I have been nominated for a few things before, including a distinguished dissertation, and not won, so it is better to not focus on such things. Oh, I know, just being nominated is flattering, and all that. Anyway, the faculty member said I have won, so we'll see. I laughed, "I guess it would be a good idea for me to come to campus that day, eh?" And maybe dress up a little? Black jeans instead of blue?

On Thursday one of my students appeared with a BIG box of Godiva chocolates and a thank you note. It isn't totally being an AK, either, as the course she is in is S/U graded, not A or B or C. (Not that the brand and size of the box wouldn't make it OK if she was :-). She's a wonderful person, first-generation college student, 30 family members are traveling to her graduation, and her future is very bright. She has already been accepted to graduate school, and she is going to be a social studies teacher. She makes it easy to teach. I have all my thank you notes pinned to a bulletin board in my office, but this is my first box of chocolates. That's my award, I think. (Recently I read in the Chronicle of a young, handsome male professor who has a bulletin board of thank you notes too - but he is being accused of inappriopriate behavior with female advisees, so his display has a special, creepy significance. Ew.)

Our latest Netflix was Road to Perdition. It looked cool - very stylish, old cars, grey-ish and old fashioned, and the violence was done in such a way that it was not too horrifying, for the most part. But that is all I can say on a positive note. I hated the story, there were so many obvious, stupid plot holes. Even an all-star cast couldn't save it.

It really burns me that the tax deduction is only for K-12 teachers, I spend a fortune on my classes and rarely ask for reimbursement. The paperwork is such a hassle, and the dept. is always wringing its collective hands over the budget. I know that's mostly BS but for some reason I don't care about anything like that any more. Plus, this way the haul is mine - to take elsewhere, or just to admire as they collect dust on a shelf, if need be.

Not caring has been so good for my outlook. Maybe I am crazy. I really do get such a rush out of teaching, despite all its aggravations. Last night's class was especially good, it would be nice if I could manage to get them so engaged at the beginning of the semester instead of the gradual run up to the end. But I guess it takes a while to create a comfortable atmosphere. I'm afraid with a few exceptions, in most undergraduate classes outside of the school of ed the classroom isn't very pleasant. (Not to give myself too much credit, it helps that last night's discussion didn't involve a lot of reading.)

Two good news stories in today's TU; here's one on the now-dead proposal for the cement plant, and here's one on a new rescue farm for horses.

Over the weekend, we saw the Upside of Anger. Good movie, I recommend it.

Blogger wouldn't work yesterday, so I just posted yesterday's, below. We went to see Arcadia. Since Rudy's illness, Bob has been coming home after work to feed the animals and let them outside on the days when I spend a long day on campus. So, we had to alter our usual plan, which is to eat out at a nice restaurant between work and the evening's entertainment. Instead, we went to the cafeteria on campus, which (despite what students say) has decent food, much better than college fare when I was a student.

But we were pressed for time even at that, the wait times at every food window took forever, and we both would up throwing away most of our soup. Then, the play got started very late because there was a long line of people still buying tickets. It was a very long play, the seats in the theatre are worn and not comfortable, and for the first half, we sat in front of some students who clearly didn't want to be there, and they had no clue about the plot, so they made rude remarks. They were whispering, but it was distracting. We moved after intermission.

I'm assuming the students had been somehow prepared in class beforehand, but I could be wrong. Or maybe they didn't go to class the day when the play was explained. I don't think forcing students to go to something like that as a course requirement is a great idea. They don't get anything positive out of it, and their behavior is irritating to those unfortunate enough to be sitting nearby. I believe a menu of choices is a better idea. I do that with a book review in my class, and being able to select from a list engages many students in a way I rarely witness for other assignments among any but the most serious students. It says a lot about the benefits of the progressive approach, even if sometimes I wish the idea of learning was exciting enough, without having to be dressed up with powerpoint, video and sitting around cross-legged in a circle. (I was going to write "theatrics" but last night made it obvious that falls short too.)

Anyway, even under those annoying circumstances, the performance was excellent, one of the finest I've seen at the university. It was well-acted, the costumes were great, and the writing was thought-provoking. I am not sure how the actors remembered all the complicated lines! The last play, the student-written one, had a terrible script, so I'm glad this is how the season ended.

Killing time on campus before going to see this play, so I
thought I would try a Thursday Threesome again.

Domain Name Renewal

Onesome: Domain--Hypothetically, if you could own any domain name you
wanted, what would it be and why?

Gully Brook Press. It isn't hypothetical, I already own it. (I think.)

Twosome: Name-- Are you called by something other than your legal name? If
not, have you ever had a nickname? Or done something weird with your name,
to try and stand out? Like an odd spelling or a slightly different
pronunciation? Or just flat out wanted to change your name? To what?

Gina is my full name, and that's what I am called by most people (although a
lot of students call me Dr. or Professor or rarely, Ms.; most amusing to me
is when they call me Mrs. since I don't use Bob's last name. I cannot
remember the last time it was Miss. Hmmm. Must be that growing sprinkle of
grey in my hair.) I've always been happy with the name, because it is simple but
not plain, it was even more uncommon when I was in school, and because of
the alliteration with my last name. Occasionally I am called just "G" and
that is how I sign email and notes. As a kid, I acquired the nick name "Fer,"
short for "Ferry" and sometimes, family members still call me that.

Threesome: Renewal--Do you have any magazine or other subscription that is
an absolute 'must renew' whenever you get the notice?

Yes: American Heritage, Organic Gardening, The
Chronicle of Higher Education, Preservation, and Kaatskill
Life. The Times Union renews automatically, or I would include
that one too.

The news is so predictable, Michael Jackson, who won on American Idol or Survivor, and the new Pope is a creep. Yawn. The biggest surprise would be if anti-Catholicism was not the standard company line any more. Ha, ha, fundamentalist nation. In my experience, secularism rules. In modern life, law is religion, science is religion, consumption is religion. Most of my students have never been inside a church or temple ("their parents believed they should decide for themselves as adults about religion," like that ever happens for anyone except criminals in jail or recovering addicts) and ignorance on the subject is the prevailing theology. A very tiny minority are religious, or know something about religion. The essays I get on the separation of church and state either make me laugh or cry. Not because of the opinions - not even because of the typos - but because some don't even know the difference between being Jewish, an atheist, a Methodist, a Wiccan, or a Canadian.

But - from the TU, here is some good news for the Hudson River and those of us on its waterfront. Here's the story in the Freeman.

It is actually hot today -- and I am going to spend at least some time outside before it rains, even with the crush of end of semester work.

When the spring weather is this nice, I don't feel like sitting in front of the computer. But I have three end-of-semester assignments to write: two finals and an essay, so today I don't have a choice. Hard to believe that in a week, the urban ed stuff is over. I witnessed the last of the forums (big debates), and since that was the part of those classes that I most enjoyed, I'll admit it was bittersweet.

The latest cheater sobbed in my side chair -- and then, after my speech about the importance of learning the lesson, she went away. I did report her to the undergraduate dean's office. Whenever this subject comes up, I'm amazed at the plagiarism stories from others. Two students caught cheating in a class this semester handed in identical essays - to the same professor - with only one word changed. The assignment was writing about a life-changing event. The professor was especially upset because of the nature of the assignment. Not only did the students obviously think the professor doesn't bother to read the work - but fabricating a story seems even more of an insult. It's really a shame that these incidents sometimes overshadow the majority of students - who are serious, diligent, a joy to teach, ask for very little, and as a result, probably don't get the attention from faculty and administrators that they deserve.

A few weeks ago, I bought a new printer, and took my old one to S'ville. I took the Lexmark inkjet I had there back to Castleton, and connected it locally to my old computer, rather than printing through the network, which often causes problems. My old network printer (HP Officejet 1170cse) had been giving me trouble off and on for almost a year. I had tried to print on paper with a curved top, and ever since then, I have been getting an intermittent error message "Cartridge Carrier Blocked" whenever I print more than a page or so.

It could be corrected by turning it on and off, and reaching inside to push the cartridges, but it was annoying, and lots of paper was wasted. I tried everything on the HP website several times, but had no luck. It is seven years old, and doesn't owe me a dime, so I got a new one (HP 6110). It's nice, but I know it won't be a match for the old one. Anyway, I scoured the Internet for suggestions on what to do about the 1170's problem, because occasionally in S'ville I want to print more than a page or two, and yesterday I finally tried it -- oiling the cartridge rod. I used 3-in-1 oil, and was not at all optimistic, it seemed way too easy - but it worked like a charm!!

I'm working on taxes today -- and I'm happy to say, I am almost done. It may seem last minute, but not for me!

I am also dealing with yet another plagiarism case. This one is more run of the mill than last semester's problem, but the student has contacted the Dean's office for both the School of Education, and the School of Business (that is her major). I'm not sure why students do stupid things like that, when involving the chain of command usually results in more penalties for students than if they left it alone at the instructor's level. I am going to fail her, but I have been undecided about reporting her to the university, because although it is a serious case (much of the essay is copied verbatim from the Internet without attribution), it isn't quite as egregious as many of the cases I've found in the past.

Now I have been asked to notify the Undergraduate Dean, and although this isn't quite as severe as referring the case to Judicial Affairs, she will now have a record of her infraction at university level. That probably isn't a bad idea.

This has happened with enough frequency that now I am hardly upset any longer when I discover cheating. Sad.

This infuriates me. How can he, the Trustees, the spokesperson sleep at night? I probably shouldn't have read past the headline, it brought back a flood of negative memories. I am so glad I summoned the nerve to exit that place in 1998, it was one of the best decisions I've ever made.

I read in the paper today that Dale Messick, the creator of the comic strip "Brenda Starr," died at age 98.

I read the comic strips in whatever newspaper I have (most of the time either the Albany Times Union or the Kingston Daily Freeman, or less often, the Troy Record or East Greenbush Independent). Brenda Starr doesn't run in any of those papers, and I understand that others took over writing the strips some years ago. When I was a teenager, it was in the paper I read, and at that time Dale Messick was drawing it. I can't say I was a big fan of the comic, I read them all, but I have my favorites and less than favorites ("For Better of for Worse" has been my favorite for a while, and more recently, I like "Get Fuzzy" a lot too).

In those days I preferred "Blondie," "Peanuts" and "Lil' Abner" to Brenda Starr, but Brenda finally took the plunge in 1976, and after over 30 years at age 23, it seemed like a momentous occasion. My mother often saved newspapers that had historic significance, I remember her keeping copies that had the headlines "Nixon Quits" and a "Ford in Our Future." I kept a scrapbook, and so I cut out the news coverage of Brenda's wedding in the New York Daily News.

This morning I dug out the clippings, from 1976:





On and off, I write a newspaper for the fictitious town of Nileston (I resurrected it for a while as the newsletter for GBP). When I was a teenager, I was especially prolific, and the paper included many illustrations and spoofs. While I was retrieving my scrapbook I also pulled out the folder with my old efforts, and was delighted to discover my 1977 send-up of Brenda Starr:



Here is an interesting link that details Dale Messick's life as an illustrator, as well as her struggle to be accepted in the male world of comics.

This topic comes up occasionally in my class. Students feel one of two ways, that: a) we should stop babying kids, the real world is competitive and often not tolerant of mistakes, and making a big issue of correcting in red and its impact on self-esteem is silly or b) red marks on papers are upsetting (and not appropriate at the college level, either). I sometimes see similar sentiments expressed over games such as dodgeball, played in school gym class.

When I first started teaching online, I used colored text for corrections - not red, but blue. It took an enormous amount of time to format my comments, and once I took on more teaching responsibilities - I discovered that using all caps instead is much more efficient. I'm not sure why that didn't occur to me sooner! When I evaluate paper, rather than electronic documents, I use pencil, not because of a concern for the impact of red pen - but because I can erase if necessary.

I have heard complaints from teachers and faculty, that students are accustomed to being praised for effort, rather than quality of work - and so are not comfortable with criticism. This is sometimes blamed on parents, who celebrate everything their kids do, regardless of how well they do it. Other times school is faulted, for its emphasis on self-esteem rather than skill building.

I'm not sure what is the big deal with red - it is a color I like, and the stigma seems unfair. But I still think pencil is better for grading. About dodgeball, I think it is a horrible game and I always am pleased when I read in the newspaper about a school that does not play it.

The Olive Press updated the website; my letter and Bob's, as well as a reference from another letter writer are here. And, they continue the streak of cluelessness, in this editorial. The print edition has an ad for Mr. Thayer's landscaping endeavors. I guess that explains why he reads the paper.

This is restaurant week in Albany; many downtown places participate by offering a price-fixed menu at $16.09 (the year Henry Hudson landed). Always up to a good excuse for eating out - last night, we went to Le Serre; tomorrow night, we are going to Nicole's Bistro. Last restaurant week, we went here. We wanted to go here this time, but they have no reservations!

I had two very bad dreams this morning, in succession. The details are sketchy, but the first was a graphic horror dream, very disturbing, about a psycho or band of psychos. The second was an anxiety dream, with a bunch of somewhat true elements mixed together to make an unpleasant soup. When I awakened, my first thought was "Christopher Hitchens." Neither dream had anything at all to do with him, but I attribute the awareness to his nasty writings, the most recent example being his trashing of the Pope. I think he must be a very ugly person inside. There will be no linking from GBP to his column, it is easy enough to find if you are interested.

I have been rather blue. I don't usually describe myself as depressed - that's a serious clinical term, but instead sad or blue, or maybe melancholy. A bunch of things, some big, some small: The Pope, Terri Schiavo, the anniversaries of several deaths (including Mimmie's 12 years ago tomorrow), a terribly sad recent death in my hometown in a family that has had too many tragedies, the cold, rainy, grey weather, the mountain of papers to grade when juggling graduate student registration is capturing center stage, all combine to deflate my mood. The work stuff doesn't matter so much really, but the rest...life can be so sad.

As for the weather, my mother described a bright, beautiful, clear day to me once; she said something that we say in church, "this is the day the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad." How true that is, how appropriate. Today I was looking at the bland, bone-chilling drizzle outside, and decided that considering the alternatives, we probably should all feel that way, no matter the weather. Sometimes I have heard that verse as a song, and so in my head today I have been playing it, as a reminder.

I feel bad for my students. I guess the on time budget was too good to be true.

Registration for summer and fall started at the university this week. This is a very hectic time for me, and it is very stressful for students. I remember the aggravation of getting into classes when I was a student, and having an online system hasn't improved things very much.

My letter is in the print Olive Press this week, but they have not updated the letters on the website. It is appearing here in the online Phoenicia Times, though. Bob's is there too.

Spring break is over, so it is back to campus this week. I got some evaluation done last week, but (of course) not as much as I hoped. Just over the month until the semester is over. I don't want to wish my life away - but I am looking forward to being done this year.

I got a nice note from the editor of the Olive Press. He apologised for running the letter from Alden Thayer that attacked me.

I'm so happy, two weeks off antibiotics, and Rudy is fine. There is no blood in his urine, and he is not sore. Aside from the blood, the changes in his personality were very subtle. He is a very happy dog, the kind of dog that wags his tail, even when he is asleep, if you say his name. We think he was wagging it less when he was sick, and now he is wagging it a lot again. I don't think he is going to need the invasive urine test, but we probably will drop off another sample for a regular urinalysis, just to confirm that our observation is correct, that he is all recovered.

I attribute it to the power of supplements. Once the Baytril was finished, I started giving him CoQ10, cranberry extract, and these vitamins. (He's taken salmon oil and glucosamine for the past year.)

He didn't give me any trouble at first, but now that he feels better, he leaves some of the capsules in his bowl (and Sophie knocks him out of the way as she tries to get them). He usually eats the glucosamine, but he especially hates the daily blend since it is a powder that mixes with his food, and I'm sure it ruins the taste. Even yogurt or cottage cheese don't hide it. So, now I give him the capsules in ham, cheese, or an apricot (his favorite treat) rather than directly in his bowl, and I am going to switch him to plain B vitamins - since that is why I have been giving him the daily blend.

We spent a few days in Samsonville, and while we were there, we got new replacement windows installed in Castleton. It was money well spent, I don't think I have ever appreciated a home improvement purchase more. Too bad we didn't take before and after pictures. Here is the porch - it seems like we have an addition.



Here is the kitchen, we shelled out for wooden interiors to match the existing woodwork (instead of vinyl).



Here is my favorite, the bathroom, which is like a miniature version of the windows elsewhere in the house (the old window didn't match).



The best part? Not the savings on heat, air conditioning (because now we can actually open all the windows), the lack of drafts...or even that they are clean! It's that they took away all the awful dead spiders and wasps nests...

Here's a new website representing Olive's view on the large parcel.

I don't understand why anyone would do this.

As a result of last night's and today's Google searching - I have been thinking about how much you can find out that way. It is kind of creepy, if you really think about it.

I also wonder if the person who attacked me here is the same as the creep in the Olive Press. Both were so personal, and irrational.

Last night, Ma emailed to let me know that someone had responded to my last letter in the Olive Press. The response letter is here, scroll down.

I couldn't sleep after reading it. I couldn't believe how personally, and specifically, the writer attacked me. So, I got up and wrote a response. The paper comes out every two weeks, so it won't appear in print or at the website until then. Today I sent two additional emails on the subject to the paper, not for publication, but just to express my concern and outrage. All three follow. The letter for publication is not a nutjob manifesto. The two emails are more emotional, but I needed to vent. I don't think there could be a greater insult to me than to call me unethical.

When I Googled his name, I did learn a few other things about him than what I mention in the second email. The most interesting, he's a landscape designer. Bob joked, maybe we should call him up and ask him if he wants to mow our lawn this summer. What else would someone with that title do in Denning? So much for Yale degrees. (I can be elitist too, you see.) He's gay. He's from NJ. His partner is from Puerto Rico and writes plays. His mother died earlier this month. (That is the one thing I feel bad for him over. But it still doesn't justify attacking my character.)

Something I didn't include in the part about theft from indigenous peoples, since the letter is more important in the print edition: Click here. Go to page 2. Scroll down to "Andrew Eckert," the picture is on the right. His mother was named Betsy North. Now, do you think maybe there was some of the Algonquian-speaking people's blood in his veins? (Somehow I suspect it is more likely than Ward Churchill's claim.)

To The Editor:

Imagine my surprise, upon opening the Olive Press after its recent hiatus, to discover a letter that attacks me, and in such a personal way! Apparently this person is not even a district resident, yet he has been annoyed enough by my words to take the time to write to the Olive Press. The letter writer challenges me to answer the questions he poses honestly. Well, I'm not sure who he thinks he is, to demand an accounting, but as all who know me are aware, I am never less than perfectly truthful, and so I will oblige.

Mr. Thayer wonders if I support compensating indigenous peoples (since he freely labels himself "clueless" he will not mind my pointing out that "Native American" is not the preferred term) for lands that were "stolen" by Olive natives, with roots that go back generations? His question makes two assumptions that must be scientifically solved before a thoughtful response can be mounted; first, that there were indigenous people settled in what has been known since 1823 as the Town of Olive; second, if the first assumption is correct (if it is not, this next part is a non-issue) that all of those Olive natives I referenced do not descend from indigenous peoples. How does Mr. Thayer know this? Because he judges based on surnames that sound European? What about matrilineal genealogy?

He then wonders if I support reparations? This question is not as easy to address as his assumptions about Olive's history and residents, but it is one that I have spent a great deal of time studying (not because of Mr. Thayer's letter, however; at the risk of infuriating him once again due to mentioning my advanced degree, I cover the subject in one of my classes). There are persuasive viewpoints on both sides of the reparations issue and I am not sure exactly where I stand. (Or at least I don't care to fully elaborate in a letter to the editor that is already too long; there are a lot of variables to sort out, such as who exactly would be the beneficiaries, who would do the paying, who would administer it, and how to figure out the amount to be paid.) Specific programs, including affirmative action and underrepresented student fellowships, while not precisely reparations, are efforts in our society to address this past injustice. So there is some precedent for taking historical "theft" into account when deciding contemporary "fairness." On the subject of eternity, the jury is still out.

Next, he describes the situation in the Tri-Valley district, but even given the advanced degree that so irritates Mr. Thayer, I was left scratching my head. In the first place, the comparison between districts is flawed. In the OCS district and in the county, it is Olive that does not have the votes, and we have been told that in no uncertain terms by our elected representatives.

Then, according to the NYS Education Department, in 2002-03 Tri-Valley spent $8,614 per student for general education and $19,607 per student for special education. Onteora spent $9,106 per student for regular education and $26,567 per student for special education. Both are considered "Average Need/Resource Category" schools, and both districts spent more than did similar schools ($7,111 per student for general education and $17,042 per student for special education). Also, both were above the Statewide average ($7,595 per student for general education and $17,818 per student for special education). Even if Neversink pays nothing and Denning pays it all, there is no way the disparity between towns in Tri-Valley could be what Mr. Thayer asserts ($33,500 per student).

At first I was not sure why he wasted his time writing an attack letter so specifically directed at me, instead of a more productive endeavor - you know, maybe getting involved in his own town and school, or looking at the beautiful view outside of the window or something. I wondered if he could be one of the Olive Press editorial writers? No, the name did not seem familiar, and although it could be disguised, it is doubtful one of the local journalists would be so personally vindictive. Then I decided that it is because of his extreme hostility toward his neighbors in Neversink due to his taxes and their not implementing the large parcel, coupled with an irrational jealousy over my having the nerve to "show off" my doctoral degree by (gasp) putting the letters after my name. If that upset him, oh well. I was a first-generation college student, and it took me 22 long years to walk across that stage and receive my PhD. I don't "flaunt" it most of the time, but if I want to advertise it on occasion, that's my right. There are a large number of folks in Olive who are pretty d-mn proud of me for earning it, I am still unspoiled enough that I consider it to be a significant achievement, and if that ain't humble enough to suit Mr. Thayer, that's his problem.

Certainly the most personally offensive thing he wrote was to question my ethics. That's a laugh. Now there's the mark of a sore loser - when all else fails, suggest that someone who disagrees with you is immoral, evil, a bad person. Upset the game board, make all the pieces fall to the floor, and run away. Why stop at unethical - why not call me a commie too? (How about "coy commie?;" then he could even use alliteration.) I don't know who Alden Thayer is - frankly, I don't care who he is - he may even be a she - but one thing is for sure. Them's fighting words. Is that plain spoken enough?

Mr. Thayer may scoff, but it does sadden me that some of our neighbors are so resentful. We never knew before the large parcel ripped open these old wounds. (However, it does make it much easier to justify voting with our dollars…what I mean is, don't shop outside of Olive.) In the end, I have concluded that if he is sparing the good people of Neversink his poison pen, I guess I am happy to be of service.

This morning's first email:

This is not a letter to the editor - it is not for publication. I am writing because I am concerned about a recent letter you printed in the current issue of the Olive Press and I wonder if you have any guidelines for what you are willing to publish, or if you include disclaimers.

The letter was signed by Alden Thayer and it attacks me in a rather personal manner. My mother (a pillar of the community, and one of the Olive natives whose family lost land that Mr. Thayer so disdains) was very upset, and emailed me late last night to alert me, so I visited your website and read it. Try as I might, even after taking a sleeping pill, I could not sleep after reading it, and so I got up and wrote a response (I used the "Contact the Olive Press" link on your website which directed it to the Phoenicia Times email address rather than this one that is listed with your masthead, I think). Probably I would not have bothered if I had been able to sleep on it - but I'm not sorry I did. It isn't a post in some obscure online forum - it is printed in a paper that is distributed free of charge to everyone in Olive. Now, the many people who know me and my family certainly won't think less of me because of Mr. Thayer's pointed attack - they will just think he is an AH because (this might be uppity) I am a nice person in an upstanding family.

I even received personal notes and thank you cards, and people called and emailed me and my parents with gratitude when I wrote my original (very long) letter to you on the large parcel subject some time ago. Many people who knew me as a kid said that I had captured exactly the way they feel about the Reservoir and Olive, but could not put into words. They wrote notes that said how proud they are of me for my accomplishments. That might be corny to some people but it wasn't to me. The sincerity of the folks in Olive is what has made me the person I am. They could have given me no greater compliment than to say that my writing expressed the way they feel. That is my goal as a writer.

I really don't care if Mr. Thayer questions me about the rights of indigenous peoples or reparations for slavery, and I also believe that he is entitled to disagree with me on the large parcel issue. It is a free country. On the other hand, I think taking a swipe at my level of education is a pretty cheap shot, but I write that off to jealousy from someone who always wanted to get a PhD but for some reason was unable to earn one - failing the dissertation defense or being unable to write one at all, not getting accepted to a graduate program, or having life circumstances such as raising a family or something of that nature intervene (and instead of making peace with it, always having regrets as a result). I do wonder if he would have so personally attacked me if I was a man, but that is beside the point.

What concerns me is that he calls me unethical. I pride myself on living according to my beliefs and not being a hypocrite. I opposed the construction of a Target that resulted in tearing down the historic Defreest Church House in Rensselaer County. We lost that one (as we may lose the large parcel battle, as our ancestors lost the valley), and the sad day the wrecking ball decimated that gem I vowed to never set foot in any Target - that was two years ago and I have not. I don't believe in extreme consumption, and so I do not drive, I grow organic produce, I recycle everything, and I do not buy something new unless what I have is totally shot (the homeless shelter would not even take my furniture). My tiny capital district house is in a working class neighborhood, and I have no interest in moving to a McMansion in Saratoga County like so many others. I hold my university students to a very high standard, and I am not afraid to take the time, or the professional risks, and report all instances of cheating and plagiarism to the university level.

To call me unethical equates me with scum like the jerks at Enron or even Martha Stewart. I was not unethical as a kid in high school when I lived in West Shokan and I am not unethical as a professor. It has nothing to do with my doctoral degree, it has to do with my moral compass, my upbringing, the fabric of my soul. I firmly believe in doing what is right. In fact I teach courses on Social Morality, Social Responsibility, and in the fall I will teach a course on Tolerance. It has been my life's effort to mentor and energize future K-12 teachers to be models, in the academic and the moral senses, for their students.

Maybe people today watch too many cable television shows where shouting is entertainment and they don't know the difference between TV and real life. But I would never individually attack another letter writer in your paper, and why he singles me out of the dozen letters in every issue that you print about the large parcel frankly scares me. I have wracked my brain about why he would choose me - did I know him in high school? (No, and that doesn't make sense anyway because I was a nobody in high school, not in a clique, apart from strong academics, I was not the darling of OCS - not at all someone others worried about, much less disliked). Does my family know him? Not that I know of. Was he a student of mine (which would be strange, as I am pretty popular with students) who didn't do well or was caught cheating or something? No, and I am sure, as I have only been teaching 5 years and I still remember all my students.

Could he have encountered me somewhere in the community and taken a dislike for some reason? Well, I sort of hide at my house in Samsonville when I am there on weekends, I just want to be with nature, get away, and see my family so that is doubtful. I do go to Olive Day but I don't have a booth or anything, I am a trustee and volunteer for the Historical Society, I take turns with my mother volunteering once a month so the museum in the Olive Free Library can be open, and I am secretary for the Mt. Pleasant Rural Cemetery (I wonder if as the result of the large parcel, we should dig everyone up (for some of them, again) and move them from Shandaken to Olive? hmmm now there's an idea) but I have never had anything but positive interactions in any of those organizations. I simply don't know anyone by that name. I don't think I even know anyone in his town. So his attack springs solely from my letter that you printed that objected to the tone of your editorial? Is Mr. Thayer somehow connected to your newspaper? That seems hard to believe. It is puzzling.

I am not a public official, I am not a member of your staff, I am a private individual and Mr. Thayer's so directly insulting my character is libel - or if it seems too trivial to rise to that level, then it borders on it. In the olden days (which if Mr. Thayer actually knew me, he would know those times are quite real to me), his remarks about my integrity would have earned him a slap in the face and a challenge to a duel.

Thank you.

This morning's second email:

An addendum to my earlier perplexed missive, this is also not intended for publication.

I couldn't take wondering whether Alden Thayer will be lurking in the woods near my house this weekend, or making crank calls to me or my parents, so I finally Googled his name and now the reasons for his irrational libel become clear. He's the head of Denning's planning board, and a weekender or fairly recent NYC-metro transplant. Probably hates locals and spends all his free time in Woodstock grooving with the other Olive haters. Maybe didn't know West Shokan's taxes were so much lower when he bought a place on the other side of Peekamoose and has been furious ever since.

His partner is a Yalie, we all know that means silk purse, while SUNY grads like me are cut from a burlap bag. Probably Mr. Thayer is not a big supporter of public education in general. That one of the rednecks had the nerve to go get a PhD and then write letters where she brags about it! What an outrage! I'll show her. She must be an ignorant racist to champion the rights of the folks in her hometown (witness his reference to White theft from so-called Native Americans and reparations for slavery).

Well, one thing he is right about. He is among the clueless I criticized, he may look at it, but he does not "see" the Reservoir at all, and he never will. He can't, he is small and it is big. It is beyond his comprehension. So I guess that sums up why he took my general letter as a personal affront. Well, I have a long memory. I'd advise Mr. Thayer to refrain from writing any more attacks on my character - if he does I am going to call the police over his harassment. I am not afraid of bullies.

Thanks, I feel better already.

On Saturday, Bob and I went to see Bride and Prejudice. I read a review of the movie where Ebert said that the director's other two movies make you smile just thinking about them. Well, I agree with that sentiment, and this movie makes a third! I didn't enjoy it quite as much as Bend It Like Beckham, but I did walk out of the theatre with a smile on my face that lingered for quite a while afterwards - and frankly, that alone makes it worth the time (and the price of admission)!

Bob and I went to see this play, 110 Flights at the university. Unlike most of the theatre department performances, it was written by a student, and she also plays one of the two characters. As a student effort, it was impressive; the acting was great, and the writer has potential. The set was the best of any I've seen at the university in the past couple of years; in fact, it was as good or better than at professional companies. But in terms of the story itself, the ending was dismal, many of the issues it raises were addressed in a very immature fashion (it was clear that it was written by someone without much life experience), and at times it was downright offensive, in a personal way. Oh well -- we have paid at least five times more for tickets to a performance at a bigger company and been insulted too.

Rudy is almost done with antibiotics and so he had another urinalysis yesterday. He still has blood in his urine. This was not a surprise, because although it is not bright red, sometimes I can tell in the snow that there is still a trace in there. He seems otherwise fine, as he always has been. Any other symptoms are very slight. This is a dog who has always acted half his age.

Anyway, the vet recommends that he go off the antibiotics for two weeks, and then he wants to take a sample right from his bladder, and see exactly what bug in his prostate is causing the infection. This is pretty much a standard procedure for resistant urinary track infections, and bladder or kidney stones, cancer, etc. have already been ruled out. It is not that big a deal, but still, I am not happy, both about Rudy still being sick, and about the next procedure.

Yesterday morning, when I had to catch the urine sample, he was not cooperative - he kept hopping along in the snow as he peed to make it hard for me to collect it. Then he ran behind the shed to finish so that I couldn't get to him at all. He never did this in the past. This bothered me, as we always tell ourselves that we have to make choices for the animals - something like becoming overweight isn't in their control. It is our fault, and we have to be the ones to solve it. But now it seemed to me that he was saying loud and clear that he didn't want any more human intervention. His life, his choice. I think the ultrasound experience has totally scared him, when he used to be happy and fearless at the vet.

Well, I am happy about the break from antibiotics, anyway. I am going to work on building his immunity naturally. Then in two weeks I'll see how I --and he?-- feel.

I finally told the students today (see my explanation buried in #8). Overall they took it well, although naturally the three who are not graduating were not happy. Also one of the graduating students was more upset that I thought he would be -- I guess he felt some ownership of the program after working on it for three semesters, and having it end feels like a personal insult (even though it isn't). He asked me if the reason is political or financial. Good question! Ha, some (and I used to) believe that everything is economic, but I said "political" almost without thinking. I told the undergrads too. They are not impacted as much but they were quite disturbed by the news too. Anyway, I am glad that is over, I have been dreading it for a month.

Something I forgot to add about The Jungle yesterday. One of the things the family does shortly after they arrive in Chicago is buy a house in the slums near the meat-packing plants. They are somewhat ripped off, at least in the sense that they don't understand the contract, and that they think the house is new, but really it is a few years old. It turns out the house had been sold several times before to families who eventually defaulted on the payments and then lost the house.

Anyway, it is described as a four room wood frame row house. I think when I read the book originally I imagined a brownstone of some sort, since I was not really familiar with cities or the architecture of the time, and thought of the urban areas that were familiar to me, and the type of buildings found there. But now that I live in a house that was built in about 1904 (which is almost the same time as the book's setting), I know the kind of house the folks in The Jungle purchased.

My house's original occupants were factory workers at a plant down the hill, and including the attic, my house was four rooms at the time of its construction (now the basement has been converted to living space and it is five rooms). It is a temple house, which is a variant of a bungalow. There are also little structures known as shotguns, and other bungalow relatives, all part of the Craftsman design. So I'm thinking the characters in the book lived in a house something like mine (at least until they failed to make the payments). Amazing to think of the changes in real estate over time. At the turn of the 20th Century, uneducated factory workers lived in my house. At the turn of the 21st, it is inhabited by highly educated professionals. So much for the revolution of the proletariat. Think I should rise up?

I've been reading The Jungle by Upton Sinclair. I read this book when I was a teenager, but at Christmas time when I was ordering gifts from Amazon, I noticed that there was an "uncensored original edition," so I bought it.

Naturally, as with all classics, there is an introduction written by a Sinclair scholar. It was interesting to read how the manuscript was discovered, the struggle to get it into print, the differences between the two versions, and what motivated the changes. However, now that I am about 75% finished with the book, I have a different interpretation than the one advanced in the introduction.

There it is argued that this version, which is still the teacher's standard, was too watered down to have much political impact, even if it did result in numerous reforms to the meat packing industry because people were shocked that food might be unsafe. But the introduction asserts that much of the political message was erased by the way the book was edited (by Sinclair, under duress), and so it did little to advance his socialist agenda.

Before I started reading, I remembered that the book was about the meat-packing industry in Chicago at the turn of the 20th Century, and that the main characters were immigrants with tragic lives. Probably the things I most clearly remembered were that in order to keep her job, the main female character was forced to be the mistress of her boss, and that she died in childbirth. I even distinctly remembered a sentence from the book, about the bloodspot on the floor where she had died.

I am pretty sure that I read The Jungle originally when I was in tenth grade in high school, as part of English class. We had what the school called "selectives" at that time; after taking ninth grade English, students could freely choose six electives to complete the four years of required English. (I think this idea didn't work out, and has been replaced by traditional English 10, 11 and 12 since then.) One of the first selectives I chose was The Novel; two of the other books we read were Giants in the Earth by Ole Rolvaag and My Antonia by Willa Cather.

It was a class that left me with several vivid memories, but not because the teacher or even the reading list were especially noteworthy. It was filled with kids from the popular clique, and most were a year or two older than me - the class did not attract sophomores. Many of the students either did not read or were otherwise clueless, but since they were popular, the teacher (who took every opportunity to be favored among the cliques) liked them anyway. But then the teacher was no genius, I recall that while we were reading Giants in the Earth, he made a remark about male and female oxen! I may have been the only student to catch his mistake, and I remember it hitting me like a thunderbolt that there was a lot teachers didn't know. (I'm not exactly sure why it took until I was 15 to figure that one out.)

In the introduction of the "uncensored" edition it says that although made by the author and not the publisher, the cuts were not done for artistic reasons, but to make the book less controversial. Certainly there is evidence for this (the packing house names were altered to make them even less similar to their real life counterparts), but I am not so sure there were not also valid literary reasons for the changes. Several chapters were cut, and now that I am getting to the end, I believe the book would benefit from some trimming. I am starting to lose interest in the story. Another insight from the introduction, that the socialist message was toned down by the cutting. This may be true, but even as a teenager, the strong socialist viewpoint was not lost to me in the shorter version. It did spark many reforms in the industry; that is quite an accomplishment for any book. Expecting a novel to result in a proletarian revolution is really pushing it, I think! Art does not exist in a vacuum; there were many other agendas at that time competing for air space.

Finally, the introduction states that the editing makes the characters seem less sympathetic. On this point I completely disagree. I do remember this problem with the book from my first reading, but the characters are not more sympathetic to me in the longer version; if anything, the excess description has the opposite effect. I believe the author himself did not identify with the characters. They were simply a tool in his political tract. He seemed to glory in making the characters ignorant. He does not allow the reader to figure things out and draw conclusions; instead he endlessly preaches his message, telling readers how they should feel about the events.

Also, he described the characters in ways that make the reader have no choice but to dislike them -- for example, all except the mother did not care much when one of the children, who was handicapped, died. Then, meat packing is awful. Not only are the sanitary conditions deplorable, which he demonstrated in disgusting detail, but the very nature of the employment is cruelty. This makes it hard to feel empathetically towards the employees. So, all in all, it has been a worthwhile read, but I don't think this version had a different impact on me than the other one did. [Note to students who land here from surfing for information on this book: Don't you dare plagiarize.]

This is today's dose of disgusting modern "culture." Here are the latest two links to the Times Union on bird hatred and cruelty. I don't own a gun, in fact have never shot a gun, and don't think it is a good idea to wildly wave guns around. My mother has one, I think she refers to it as her 4-10, but I could be slightly off because I am not up on guns. She has it at the farm mostly to scare predators away from the horses (that could include predators of the human kind). Although I am not a violent person, in my younger days I did appreciate pranks, and still occasionally fantasize about committing one again. I would never actually carry out the fantasy, however (there's a sentence that would not be necessary if this was a private journal).

Anyway, when I read the latest installment about the ducks in the suburbs, I got a vision of borrowing Ma's 4-10 (if that's what it's called) and shooting out the windows in that jerk's house (or should I say McMansion, because you know that's what he lives in) who has been killing the ducks. (I don't get a similar vision when I read about the crows, because there are far too many nutjobs with guns involved already. I just feel sick. And not about West Nile.) Getting back to the 4-10, though, I've had that same thought about Target's stupid sign for the location that is now where the Defreest-Church house once stood. It being a bullseye makes it even more tempting. The latest mind-numbing TV commercial for that despicable retailer reminds me of this every time.

And speaking of McMansions, a plastic person has had one built down the road. Incredible, in this old village with no vacant land and tiny 100 year old houses perched on all the hills, someone stupidly contracted for an ugly, enormous track house on the steepest slope. It is causing erosion of that hill and run off into the street. When it is cold the run off freezes into an ice/mud creek. I believe the house in front of it is suing because the McMansion violates all sorts of code. As I pass by and see it looming above our street, I wonder what it would look like with its tacky arched windows shot out?

Here's something completely different than 4-10 fantasies. It's a link from the Chronicle (and for a change it's a freebie) that made me laugh. I don't feel that I am treated badly -- maybe because in my former life I was an administrator (with tenure) and so know the meaning of abuse. But even at that, many of these points ring true. It's just that in my case, I don't want to be tenure track instead, I like to be free (see administrator with tenure, above). And if I am honest about what I really want to be, the answer is always the same: a writer.

I'm going to engage in a little obnoxious self-congratulations (the Oscars, the Mark Twain Prize [btw, giving it to Lorne Michaels is an insult to a true humorist's memory], so I figure, why not?). I noticed this article that offers a positive view of the urban ed classes, and it goes a long way towards explaining why the end is bittersweet. (It is an interview with a college student that I had forgotten about, and never checked to see whether the publication was up). Then there is this. It is the syllabus for a college course, someone is using my book. (I'm not sure why, but it was a surprise to see both.) I found them both (and many other things I'd forgotten about too) while clicking through my site counter entries.

My January 28 entry is on this week's Carnival of Education. I'm not sure that it is my best post, but it is OK. It had to be on education and less than a month old when submitted.

Update to yesterday's post: a perfect illustration of #5 in my post from 2/28 about reflections on three years of blogging. Another commenter suggested I would like it better in a communist country! For wanting folks in my hometown to pay less taxes and be listened to by politicians when they speak out! Funny! I have a feeling it is someone local, that when they represent themselves as being from out of town they are not being truthful - I mean, either a teacher in the district or someone from one of the other towns, because of how personal and direct the reference to me is, also for mentioning having my house taken away for nonpayment. Now, I only mentioned my intentions in the Olive Press, who else reads that? Of course I suppose they could have read it here, but then if they were reading this I suspect they would attack me in the comments.

One thing is alarming, though. I mentioned it yesterday, but it bears repeating. It's scary how much hostility there is in the other towns toward Olive. We never knew how much our neighbors hated us. Well, it strengthens my resolve to boycott businesses that are not in Olive when I am in Samsonville for the weekend. It is a challenge, since there are not many businesses in Olive to patronize (hey, that's the point of our frustration with the taxes), but I vow to continue to not spend a dime elsewhere.

My three year ejournal anniversary is today. My post from yesterday details my reflections. I didn't expect to post today, but we had a snowstorm last night, and so I canceled my day class. I am still expecting to go to campus for my evening class, however.

The Freeman covers another large parcel protest. Now, wouldn't you love to be represented by these two jerks? And the commenters - we never knew how much other towns hated Olive until the large parcel surfaced, although having been submerged in water for 100 years, I guess our ability to read others was drowned long ago.

My comment in response to the article: Amazing how so many people have a lot to say about an issue that is quite frankly none of their business. Oh, and expecting elected representatives to care about the people! How uppity of those Olive residents! Who are they to speak out? Don't they know they should be quiet and know their place? (Is that under water and forking over money with a smile?)

News flash folks: We are not moving, we are not whining, and we are not giving up. We are fighting. 100 years ago Olive was the victim of theft of its resources. We aren't going to let anyone, not politicians, not school board members, not residents of other greedy towns, get away with it again. So buckle up, I see the future. There will be a lot of articles in the Freeman like this one.