Ummm...

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If Bob Geldof is this old, how old must I be?

Grace Is All Around

Blogging isn't easy. It's actually quite a bit of work. Not only do I have to spin out something entertaining, but I usually have to be sure it's accurate. I don't always succeed. Testify with me...

My sister doesn't always read this blog. I never hid the blog from her but she found it quite by accident once (what with the phenomenon of the sun never setting on OBU and such, I link to someone who links to someone who links to someone and she found me). She reads on occasion. I never know when. This morning, she came by because she knew that since we spent all weekend together, she might get a mention. It turned out she did, but I wasn't clear as to her position.

She thought the praise and worship music at the Rivendell was creepy. She agrees that it's the wrong way to sell a home, no matter what angle you approach it from. She also is no fan of Toby Keith. I don't know if I gave that indication, but it bears mentioning and makes me love her even more.

What I appreciate even more is how she tries to understand me. We have had great civil discussion on the church and how you can keep faith in the institution and she asked me a lot of questions about the shape of my faith. She gets me more than I care to admit, and I am not just saying that because I know she will be reading.

But if she is, I would invite her to join me in blog fun any time. I think my audience would love our famous Oswald/Ruby reenactment or an Emmit Otter film review. We could audioblog an Imperials sing along or the "How Paul Became A Christian" radio show that got you a GA badge. Think it over, will ya?

Maybe I Am Thinking Too Hard

I spent the weekend esconsed in the bosom of family. My sister and I spent the weekend all over Oklahoma City. Today in our travels, I noticed something.

One of our errands took us to Hobby Lobby. Hobby Lobby is a locally owned craft store chain that makes several statements to be a Christian company. Most notably, they close every Sunday. Today, I took special notice of the instrumental hymns they pipe over the store in all of their locations. I didn't note it aloud as I didn't want to pick a fight with my sister and I imagined that she wouldn't note the strangeness of the choice. So on we went...

Another stop for the day was the Rivendell tour of homes. Rivendell is a large housing development on the South side of town that proudly advertises that it was "Voted the Best Neighborhood in Oklahoma City!". We paid our money and walked barefoot through the massive, ornately decorated homes. Every one featured a home theatre and Imelda Marcos sized closets. In addition, about half of the homes also featured praise and worship music piped throughout the homes. So here I was, arguing with myself the whole time wondering if these homes seemed excessive because I knew I would never have one or if it truly is excessive, and then I hear "Awesome God" and think that perhaps I am being sent the message that God wants me to have that home.

I told my sister what I thought over dinner and asked her opinion. She didn't notice the music and while she understood my argument she thought that perhaps the music is used so that Christian buyers will identify and therefore feel more comfortable spending money. Seems to me that either is a misuse. The message is either "Spend more money because God wants you to!" or "Spend more money because we love Jesus too!".

We ended the evening driving through the new housing addition that Toby Keith is building with Barry Switzer.

Putting The Fabulous in Ghetto Fabulous

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Graduation was both sublime and ridiculous.

There was much dancing across the stage and air horn blowing. There were, in the words of a teacher friend, "a lot of tube tops out there". One student approached a friend and I to shake our hands and tell us, "I don't even know how I am here. I'm pretty sure I can't even read.". I asked him to keep that on the DL and quietly checked his breath.

But then some moments were magical and affirming. The march around the arena was very emotional. It's a rush to lead these kids out and to see graduation up close from their perspective. Cameras flash, and you see the tears of parents up close. As my group of kids entered the arena, I warned that one of the big moments in their lives was coming and to slow down and take it in. We made the march and as I turned to smile at them as we went down the stairs into the arena, a girl I had had in class hugged me and told me she was the first in her family to graduate. I was shocked at this seemingly middle class girl and told her how proud I was and how much better her choices will make life for her and her future family.

Stories like this almost justified the air horns and tube tops. It reminded me that a HS diploma isn't a given for everyone and that sometimes the gift we give is larger than we assume. We need graduation images to carry us through the long last week of school. I think those images fuel me through summer training sessions to believe in the worth of the work I do.

I Just Wanna Be A Sheep (Baa, Baa)

Graduation rehearsal today. Somehow three hundred some Seniors wereherded onto buses and driven downtown. Somehow they were placed innearly alphabetical order. Somehow they were, but then it all went South.

Every time a student was placed, they would move. Every time we asked if they were placed, they would lie. Every instruction we gave had to be repeated for every child. Princess Grace raised her hand and asked if all of the Valedictorians had to speak because it would take too long. Another able bodied young lady asked if we could shorten the grand march (around the arena before getting to the floor level where they were seated) could be shortened because she was tired. I was told that no pimps should have to stand in line (I refrained from telling him to get used to it for he would be in many other lineups before it was all over. My sister suggested he get a note from his 'ho.).

So I have figured the narrow road that parents must hoe. Teach a child he is special while teaching them when to be a sheep. At your HS Graduation, be a part of the herd until your turn comes to cross the stage. Allow limited individuality. Sometimes it's not just ok to follow the pack, it's what you have to do.

We graduate some of the best ever this year, we have a perfect score on the ACT in the group. We have a kid who has already been accepted to accompany the Chorale at the University of Tulsa. There are several full scholarships in the bunch and some kids I have come to love.

But there are also the "rowdy boys", a group of athletes that terrorize any classroom who has the misfortune of existing near their lockers (this year, it's me). A group whose Junior homecoming skit was disqualified for one child's choice to hump the floor (I will open my comments section to anyone who wants to make the joke here, go ahead, it's yours). It's the class of the kid who was caught defacing school property because he made a face at the security camera before he shoe polished it. It's the class of Princess Grace and others like her.

I am ready to suit up in academic garb and go to the Convention Centerto herd cats. Think gently of me and of the class of 2005, we both have a ways to go.

A List of Funny Things, Among Which is a Farewell to My Sweet Princess

I send bloggable bits to my gmail account whenever I encounter them during the day. They are all worth a tiny entry, so I shall make this a list.

  • Today a first hour child commented (with all respect) on how much I must pee because she sees me refill my coffee several times. I answered that although I might be drinking too much, I was really only topping off the cup every time. But then I imagined another answer (cue swirly dream music)

"Why yes, I do. Quite a bit, actually. In fact (and then a look of relief sweeps over me), I just did."

  • I helped my sister polish up her resume the other night. She has a program that allows the user to choose different careers, and then to choose descriptive phrases for your resume. She printed for me a sample resume for a Religious Ritual Slaughterer. Marvel at the duties.
    1. Slaughtered cattle, calves, and sheep as prescribed by
      religious law and examined parts of carcasses to
      determine whether carcasses met standards established by specific
      religion.
    2. Sharpened knife on whetstone and washed knife
    3. Cut throat of animal, using single stroke
    4. Offered ritual prayers while slaughtering animal
    5. Inflated lungs with air to determine whether lungs were punctured

  • I love you, World O' Crap. This is why.
  • I plan to use the Surrealist Insult Generator to get through the last few days of school.
  • This will be the last story about Humanities. Unless they get better than this, I will not try to top it. We are talking about Dali, we read that he had a fear of touching and being touched and that he tried sex with both men and women and didn't enjoy either.

This confuses the entire class and so I explained that it seemed that Dali tried sex, didn't like it, and chose to become celibate.

LW: "What's celibate?"

Princess Grace breaks in: "Means you ain't sellin' nuttin!"

LW (shaking his head): "Oh, I am scarred."

so are there errors on this one?

Seriously, how screwed up is blogger? I did this as a test, but I will leave it in testament to my frustration with Blogger.

This Is The Perspective You Get In Sixteen Years

Do you really have enough under your belt to sing "My Way" at 18 in your Senior Assembly? I mean really?? I don't think I am old enough to sing that song now, much less sixteen years ago.

And now, the end is near;
And so I face the final curtain.
My
friend, I’ll say it clear,
I’ll state my case, of which I’m certain.

I’ve lived a life that’s full.
I’ve traveled each and ev’ry highway;
And more, much more than this,I did it my way.

Regrets, I’ve had a
few;
But then again, too few to mention.
I did what I had to do
And
saw it through without exemption.

I planned each charted course;
Each careful step along the byway,
But more, much more than this,I did
it my way.

Yes, there were times,
I’m sure you knew
When I bit
off more than I could chew.
But through it all,
when there was doubt,I
ate it up and spit it out.
I faced it all and I stood tall;And did it my
way.

I’ve loved, I’ve laughed and cried.
I’ve had my fill; my share
of losing.
And now, as tears subside,I find it all so amusing.
To think
I did all that;
And may I say - not in a shy way,
No, oh no not me,I did
it my way.

For what is a man, what has he got?
If not himself, then
he has naught.
To say the things he truly feels;
And not the words of
one who kneels.
The record shows I took the blows -And did it my way!


It bears mentioning that this kid is smoove enough that in five years he will know how weird this actually is.

Now It's Back To Yarn...

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I have started a new project. In fact, I have already started over on a new project (it seems you are screwed if you drop a stitch on this pattern). The pattern is for an Opera lace scarf but I only cast on 17 stitches. I am knitting it with Southwest Training Company Oasis yarn in I Candy on size 10 needles.

And it's for me!! All for me!!

A Blessing Upon Your Head! It's New Vocabulary!

So we hear the word "interpolate" (v. To insert or introduce between other elements or parts.) in a video. Princess Grace asks whatit means and I vow to look it up.

I share it at the video's end---she is so excited she writes it on her hand, promising to use it later. LW then shouts "Mazel tov! A new word!".

Episode Two: Recovery Room Cinema With Educat And Her Father

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"You know, if Kyra Sedgwick would just break down and warsh that hair and Kevin Bacon caught a whiff of it, he might turn out ok."
...Dad still says "warsh".

Just Read.

Since I work for these people and would hate to be dooced, I will offer this link without comment.

Language vote splits panel

Here is a copy of the proclamation passed by our State and National legislature.

The Girls Would Turn The Color Of An Avacado When He Cruised Down The Street In His El Dorado

I have spent too much time on what a good day isn't (I have so many examples of what isn't a good day waiting to be blogged. If they still amuse me by the weekend, they might end up here.)and I think it's time to share what it is.

Watching Henri-Georges Clouzot's Mystery of Picasso with my Humanities class is what a good day is.

Nothing on earth should compel High School students to watch this film. It's black and white, subtitled, and its only plot is that of Picasso painting. They loved it. Freaking loved it. It should be noted that when LW saw his first Picasso nude, he cried out, "What must her father think!?"

I need a break from those who suck the best from me only to climb out the classroom window. I am beyond thankful for those who give some of it back.

Perhaps A New Feature

Ladies and Gentlemen of the Internets, I give you Hallway Theatre---

Willona: Ooh, JJ, get to class

JJ:I ain't got go class, Willona, gimmea
dolla


Willona:Gota class, JJ

JJ:Gimmea dolla, Willona

(repeat exchange 5 times for effect)

Enter Educat, Stopping about 5 feet away from
students


Willona: How bout chu gimmea dolla, then I give
you a dolla.


Educat: That's a great idea. You all could switch
dollars, then everyone goes to class.


JJ: But then I won't have a dolla!

Educat: Then maybe you can keep it.
And Willona can keep her dollar, we can all head on to class, and
another crisis is averted.



Children wander off, shaking heads. Probably contemplating the meaning of the phrase "Crisis Averted".

Movie-licious!

Sorry for the binge blogging tonight, but how did my sister tell me about this movie and not mention Lyle Lovett!?!

Too many things I love (Robert Altman, Kevin Kline, PHC, Garrison Keillor, Lyle Lovett, and Maya Rudolph) in one film!

Existential Crisis Revisited

In reference to yesterday's post, I got better. I still care. I probably care more than many of my kids do, but the introspection has been good for me. I am still offended when the swine slosh my pearls through the slop, but I have reached a liveable level of discomfort.

Today, I wanted to hear what the kids thought on the topic at hand. Enjoy these Noteworthy answers to the journal entry---

"We do a lot to congratulate teachers when students succeed; but when a student fails, how responsible is the teacher?"

Potsie says---"If a student has been giving any effort to pass then it's his or her fault. If the teacher is pretty crappy like most teachers are, then it is his or her fault, making the teacher responsible."

Chachi's response--"Personally, I don't want to do Project Citizen, but if we have to it I will because I want to get a good grade and try. But now that we're dropping it, I'm kind of glad and a little upset. I'm upset because some of the students didn't do anything or ask for help, even when it was offered by Ms. Educat. So I don't blame her at all and I hope no one does. I think that most of the blame goes to some of the students or maybe it's part of my fault, because I should have reached out to them or encouraged them more."

Educat Loves Chachi

The Kind Of Tagging That Doesn't Involve Spray Paint

I have been tagged by the EduWonks! I actually appreciated the tag as it did give me something upbeat to blog. It was fun to think of my response and so who would I be to not share the fun? So here's the deal: answer five of these questions and then tag three other blogfriends.

The questions:
If I could be a scientist...If I could be a farmer...If I could be a musician...If I could be a doctor...If I could be a painter...If I could be a gardener...If I could be a missionary...If I could be a chef...If I could be an architect...If I could be a linguist...If I could be a psychologist...If I could be a librarian...If I could be an athlete...If I could be a lawyer...If I could be an inn-keeper...If I could be a professor...If I could be a writer...If I could be a llama-rider...If I could be a bonnie pirate...If I could be an astronaut...If I could be a world famous blogger...If I could be a justice on any one court in the world...If I could be married to any current famous political figure...

My Answers:
If I could be a musician I am not sure if I would be
Image hosted by Photobucket.comthe folksy “travel the countryside with a gee-tar and a dream” type who smells of patchouli,
Image hosted by Photobucket.comthe big haired and bigger bus country singer destined to die in a small plane crash, or
Image hosted by Photobucket.comGlida Rader as Candy Slice.

If I could be a doctor I would make a vow to always be clear, straight and honest with my patients. I would schedule golf (after I learn to play) with my dad’s cardiologist and say, “Ok, Al, really, what’s the deal with that thing on Dave’s leg? I mean yeah, I know, he’s obese, but seriously, what’s the deal? Why are we treating blood clots the same way as when my grandfather had them 25 years ago”? Then if he didn’t answer, I might grab him by the lab coat and give him a good shake.

If I could be a missionary then I might have half the street cred of my sister with certain sectors of my family. Seriously, she works with former prostitutes in Cleveland for two years and she parts water because her check came from the North American Mission Board. I work with America’s underbelly for eleven years and I get emails about how God isn’t in the public schools and the “No Jesus” police will billy club you if you pray. It’s a problem, friends. A problem.

If I could be an athlete, I would endorse tacos. Then I would have lots of them and since I was athletic, I would burn them all off. I would probably have to break down and get some decent tennis shoes. I would read great books in public too. That way, all those kids who do anything their favorite athlete does would end up learning something too.

If I could be married to any current famous political figure I would make him oh-so-happy as I lovingly gazed during his speeches clothed in white gloves and an apron. I would have to figure out how to tease my hair appropriately and find a platform current enough to be considered relevant but benign enough to offend no one. I would charm the nation with my china selection and host lavish evenings full of art that says nothing---so lovely and inoffensive!


Holy crap, that’s too hard. Why don’t you just elect me?

And so now the time comes to tag three of you. I would first like to thank Winderweedle for the new link by tagging her (really, I mean this as a thank you), I will semi keep in in the edu-blogosphere by tagging my old buddy The Crib Chick and then...ummm...Karina. Are you any kind of hurt that you didn't get tagged? Fine, you are tagged too. Feel free to pick up the gauntlet, even if I didn't throw it down in front of you.

The Dog Ate My Will To Learn

Let's work backwards today.

I sometimes choose to torture myself by listening to conservative talk radio. Today the host was talking about how some teachers are already packing it up at school. He cited some example of "someone he knew who said his kid said" and hypothesized that these classes were playing checkers all day. Somehow this hypothetical checker playing class became the reason that our test scores are low and how fewer students are ready for college because somewhere in some hypothetical class, kids were spending the last three weeks of school playing checkers.

This brought to mind my 8:30 am existential crisis.

Failure runs rampant in my tiny kingdom. Over half of the group took zeros on a speech (equivalent to a test grade) and group work brings blank stares. It makes me wonder, if we laud the teacher whose class succeeds, what do we do when another group fails? When I give all my effort to see that a student succeeds, am I equally responsible when she climbs out her classroom window to avoid learning? Perhaps I am a bit at fault. I am now doing the jig that many of us do, if you won't try this assignment, let's do something different. Not checkers, a different assignment. This afternoon was spent regrouping and replanning the rest of the semester's work.

My one glimmer of life change came this morning when I corrected a child's use of the word "raper". I think "rapist" is more correct. You ought to use that next time. Perhaps she will use the grammatically correct term next time and perhaps this levels it all out.

Recovery Room Cinema With The Educat And Her Father

Rented Hotel Rwanda to watch with Dad on my Sunday morning care shift. Before the movie starts, we are talking about how the US failed to take action.

Dad--"Do you think it's because it was Africa that the US did nothing?
Educat--"I think the movie talks about that a bit. We don't have a history of doing too much for the brown folk."
Dad--"We don't likes us the brown folk. Sometimes we likes the coffee
colored folk, but only if they latte colored. We don't likes the dark roast..."
Dad goes on for a while waxing on and on about skin color and coffee
Educat--"Um, you miss talking, don't you? Or do you want more coffee?"
Dad--"I think it's the listening that I miss"

Since The Hot Dog Suit Is Gone, This Is Something Else To Laugh At

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I give you the first place trophy from our school's First Annual Dodge Ball Tournament. Really, this was the prize and people wanted it.

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Admire its stunning beauty alongside our vast bounty of trophies.

Never have pizza boxes meant so much to so many.

You Will Miss These Stories In Fifteen Days When We Are Done!

The Leg Wrestler loves the Senior Who is Too Cool For School (SWITCFS). He shakes hands with him every day he comes to class (SWITCFS makes it in every other day). Today SWITCFS returned. Listen in...

LW: SWITCFS! How are you buddy? We missed you yesterday! Where were you,
friend?

SWITCFS: (who knows that I saw him in the computer lab after my class) I
had some...uh...personal business.

LW: Really?! You were in the bathroom for that long!?!?!

Only for my beloved LW would I take it to poop humor.

In Which I Prove To Be A Bit Of A Laugh Whore And Am Not Made Of Stone Where Colin Firth Is Concerned

Because I promised Kristen I would, I give you an entire web page of Colin Firth in Pride and Prejudice wet.

An entire web page of Colin Firth wet in Pride and Prejudice.

There. I found it quite by accident while searching for the P&P pic for the earlier entry and now that I was looking for it, it was a bit harder to find so now I feel a bit dirty and need to walk away.

Kristen, you owe me a film festival for this one.

She's Credit Recovery Bear And I Must Be Mean

You will forgive me if I get this out, won't you? I mean, I could die of the blockage and I have to be healthy for the sake of my ailing relatives. They need me.

Email today from counselor:

Fonzie intends to finish his 5th block English. How much does he have
left? He says he only has a couple of modules.


Fonzie has to finish two semesters of English in order to graduate. That's twenty-one modules. He has managed to eek out about seven. So he intends to finish. Intends. I intended to marry Simon LeBon of Duran Duran and make millions in movies as the next Molly Ringwald. Plans go awry. I nice these thoughts up a bit and tell the counselor. She tells me of course he realizes he won't finish two semesters. How about just one semester? Sure, I said, but he'll want to attend from time to time in order to accomplish this goal (he ambles in about once a week).

Let me know if he shows up today. He did discuss this with me today and
understands he needs to do 3 more modules.


Thank you, thank you counselor. Thank you, for you are a living Care Bear. You have the special words that no one else has. When you say "you have to show up to class" the meaning of such a sentence is finally spoken with clarity. If you were in the classroom, there would be no failure, no dropouts. Bless you, and bless me, the lowly teacher who only assigneth and gradeth the work.

He didn't show and I need a nap.

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9 Out Of 10 Educators Who Blog Prefer Trident!

I have participated in a study of K-12 Educators who Blog. Some of the questions were thought provoking. Check my responses and those of other teachers here.

Such A Cryin' Shame

Dinner last night was with the Hendersons at Victoria's, home of the happiest pasta on earth. It's vital to this story that you understand how incredible this place is. All the pasta is homemade and fresh, they show local artists, and there's just a happy funky groove about the place.

So we're eating, making happy food noises and laughing away when about ten high school girls crowd around the table next to us. They pass their cell phones around and giggle while we continue our meal. Soon, the waitress brings out salads for all and ten minutes later they leave their table like this...

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We speculate as to what has happened

  • They are all into that cool new anorexia power and think they just gorged themselves.
  • They found a finger in the salads!
  • They were not only cool enough to know that Victoria's is a good place to be seen but cool enough to know that you don't admit you ate a big plate o' pasta (We are not cool. We ate big plates o' pasta with slabs o' cheese bread).

The real story is (as ever) not nearly as interesting. Our waitress said that they were just the first stop in a progressive dinner. It just hurt me to see all that Caesar-ey goodness sitting on the table.

I took a moment to quietly assess the remains

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I Am Cutest Of All When I Am Bitter

So my Dad isn't working now. By that I mean he is unemployed rather than he isn't doing anything. He is doing quite a bit what with all the work it takes to scoot his leg back and forth on the floor while I bark out "Count!! I can't hear you!!" to make sure he breathes while he does his recovery exercises.

He got fired. By his church. The easy way to tell the story is that he is a victim of downsizing by a church that isn't growing, but the whole truth is a bit more complicated. The downsizing plan wasn't brought before the church and a few snarky comments from the "called" staff have found their way back to us. He doesn't work there anymore and he's decided not to worship there anymore. My parents have been a part of that community since 1969.

I am about fifty kinds of torn now. I want to draft a letter and tell my old church what I think, but to do that I first have to detach myself from the reflex to protect my father and approach them with some kind of love. I want to tell them all that they gave me and hold their present behavior up against that example. I want to hold their behavior up against Christ's example. I don't think they'd hear me, I just want it said.

But I also have to forgive. When I start that letter in my head, it becomes full of the anger that I'd like to pretend is righteous but is really just self righteous. Sure, I have all kinds of business telling a church how to behave when I don't attend myself.

I am holding off. As church members have found out about Dad, they have complained loudly and it's caused a bit of a church split. Anything I would say at this moment would only accentuate the rift. I think it's time right now for me to figure out how to love the church again, fight my "visiting alone" anxiety, and wallow around in some grace.

The good news is it seems easier than it would have been two years ago. Thanks, imagined blog audience, you do more than you know to make be believe it could happen.

Things You Ought Not To Find On The Internets When You Were All Ready To Love The Church Again

Democrats Kicked Out Of Church

Yeah, they've said it without words for years, at least this guy is saying it outright.

Thanks, Emmaus Theory.

Not Just Good--Lifetime Television For Women Good!

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We watched ep 1 of Pride and Prejudice today in Humanities just so the kids could get an idea of Jane Austen. It finished with twenty minutes left and they were crying for more. I agreed to let them watch part of ep 2 if they could summarize what they saw.

Princess Grace says---"The mom be wanting them to all marry up and stuff and ol girl really not want to. She more into love. It good, Ms Educat! It like, so good it should be on Lifetime!"

ODCPOTD The Third


dc pics 056
Originally uploaded by jenowens.
Wow. I just like to think about big office supplies. I mean, think of the legal pad that goes with it.

ODCPOTD Part Two


DC pics 006
Originally uploaded by jenowens.
I love the Jefferson Memorial. Its Neoclassical style fits the Enlightenment era so that the architecture matches the man.

Plus I like the water here. I took plenty of crap from Miguel about how OKC's bodies of water are man made. He argues that civilization is not meant to flourish where there is no water.

I would love to tell you that I purposely and artistically captured this water that symbolizes civilization juxtaposed against a memorial to the man who codified so much American thought.

I didn't. Just thought it looked cool.

For Your Darker Double Lives...

You could use this. After all, blogs are public.

New Feature!

It's time for

Obligatory DC Picture of The Day

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I somehow ended up taking a lot of pics of the Washington Monument. A lot. Friends speculated that it means...um...something...what with the shape and all. I don't think so. It's just a stunning monument.

This shot was taken from the 40th step of the Lincoln Memorial, where MLK gave the I Have A Dream speech.

Reading List And Back To Harsh Reality

Just two days ago I was sitting in a bar talking about the Constitution. My new Dominican friend asked me what a social contract was and sat in rapt attention as I explained. We told James Madison stories and I heard perspective on the new Pope from four very different Catholic perspectives.

I came home to my Birmingham reading list on email.

  • A Fire You Can't Put Out - Manis
  • Black In Selma
  • But for Birmingham - Eskew
  • My Soul is Rested, Raines
  • Reaping the Whirlwind
  • Montgomery, A White Preachers Memoir, Graetz
  • The Making of Dr. Martin Luther King and the Modern Civil Rights Movement
  • The Politics of Rage, Dan Carter

They are shipping these books to me soon and any other reading plans I had will fall aside but the suggestion was that if I could find even one of these and start reading, I would be better off.

No problem, I have a wonderful school library right across the hall.

Thanks, Nancy, for taking me from scholar to cow in thirty seconds.

We don't have any of these radical books--what do you think we are--progressive
or something? We do have The Watsons go to Birmingham--1963, but
it is checked out possibly never to return. If you can get it back from
Mr. Nipsy Russell of the 9th grade, more power to you. It was due in
October. Welcome back to the real world!

Moo.

Thanks

Some of you crazy kids read while I was gone. Thanks.
Dad is fine, some of you thought of him. Thanks.
You'll understand how tired I am and won't expect a full report just yet. Thanks.