The View from Here

Ice Cream

When my husband comes home tomorrow he’ll find that I finished off the last of the Cappuccino Chunky Chocolate. Not to worry…Braum’s has more. They’d better have more. According to MakeIceCream.com “each American consumes a yearly average of 23.2 quarts of ice cream, ice milk, sherbet, ices and other commercially produced frozen dairy products”! I’m certainly consuming my portion, and probably someone else’s as well. Ice cream has always been one of my top five favorite foods. I love its creamy texture. I love the cold chill of it resting on my tongue. I love the different flavors. I love the memories it evokes.

Ice cream was a celebration food at our house. It was reserved for birthdays, good report cards, pay raises, and holidays. We usually made do with store-bought ice cream, but the best ice cream was summer ice cream, fresh from the ice cream freezer (some of our friends call it a “churn”). We had a hand-cranked one and it sat in a wash tub so the extra salt water wouldn’t run on the floor. Dad always made us start the cranking and then took over when it got difficult. He’d tease us about being “weaklings”, but you could tell he loved to put in the final turns.

Hand-crank ice cream freezers are antiques now. I’m not even sure you can buy one. We have an electric one that I think we paid about $30 for at WalMart.  I recently saw a “luxury” model online that sells for $999. I’m thinking that it couldn’t really be THAT GOOD. I could make a lot of visits to Braum’s for $999! 

Homemade ice cream was always vanilla. I don’t know if Mom preferred it, or just never learned to make any other flavor. Whatever the reason, it was wonderful. When my husband and I lived in Iowa I got an ice cream recipe from his cousin, Ina. Ina and her husband had a huge farm and raised all of their own food except for a few staples like flour, sugar, and coffee. The ingredient list for her ice cream included a quart of cream and a half dozen eggs! I never had the nerve to try it. I modified it to a pint of cream and two eggs and it still made a pretty good ice cream.

          I guess we could never decide on a favorite flavor of store bought ice cream, so Mom usually got Neapolitan, with its pretty stripes of chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry. The kind we bought came in a rectangular carton and Mom sliced it with a huge knife. Sometimes we bought Dad’s favorite, Pistachio. Sometimes, Mom’s favorite, strawberry. If Gran was visiting we had something called Butter Brickle. I always liked chocolate. I still do!

We’ve been to some wonderful church ice cream parties and tasted ice cream flavored with everything from fresh peaches to watermelon to Snicker Bars. I’ve tried quite a few of the “31 Flavors” of Baskin-Robbins. Gary and I toured the Ben and Jerry’s plant a few years ago. They give samples! They also have a “hall of fame” of popular flavors. I’ve only tasted one ice cream I truly couldn’t stand. My sister-in-law worked for a restaurant that got the bright idea to make “pickle ice cream” for pregnant women. Believe me…not a good idea! But I don’t have to worry about finding a flavor to love. These days it seems like there is a new flavor of ice cream each week! There are even seasonal flavors. According to the  International Ice Cream Association, the following are the most popular ice cream flavors: vanilla, chocolate, butter pecan, strawberry, Neapolitan, chocolate chip, French vanilla, cookies and cream, vanilla fudge ripple, praline pecan, cherry, chocolate almond, coffee, rocky road, and chocolate marshmallow.

          There are also so many different types of ice cream—low fat, no fat, no sugar, low carb. There are ice creams, ice milks, frozen yogurt, and sherbets. There are bars, cones, sandwiches, and now there are even “bits”. When we visited in Vermont this summer we had soft-serve ice cream they call “Creamies” . Whatever you call it, I like it! I think tomorrow I’d better blog about exercise. I’m going to need some!

Fall View

Fall was mother’s favorite time of year. I think of that each November as I walk the dusty road beside our house. I picture her walking down this same road, from the house she lived in across the street. I imagine her looking at the same view. She would love the colors this year!

These photos are samples from a couple of rolls I took today. The rest are in the photo albums in the lower left column. Enjoy!

Thanksgiving Service

Each year citizens of our little community gather at one of the local church buildings to remember our blessings, celebrate our friendships, and sample some great food. It’s a tradition that seems to be dying out for some reason. The crowds get smaller and “older” with each passing year. As I looked around last night I realized that many of the people in attendance were the same people I see at town council meetings and committee meetings and church services. They are the “caring core” of our community. I suppose it’s true in most areas that ten percent of the people get things done and the rest either complain about what they did or are too busy to care. However, as I see this vital group aging I wonder who will replace them. I’m so very thankful for the difference they’ve made in my life over the years. I see their work each time I shop downtown or attend church or go to a ballgame at school. When they are gone who will make a difference? Will it be me? In a small town it’s not easy to say “let someone else do it”.

I also wondered last night why we don’t have more community services that ignore our religious differences and just celebrate our love of God. We divide ourselves into groups and emphasize our differences. We argue over strict adherence to this rule and that tradition. We argue over our interpretation of a dozen Bible passages and ignore a hundred others. Yet all of us are trying to do the same thing- please God and get to heaven. Why can’t we do it together?

There was a recurring theme to the conversations I overheard last night-“Who is coming home?” Family is all that matters during the holidays. We worry about the turkey and how many pies we should bake, when the truth of the matter is that we’d all eat canned soup if we could just do it as a family. These days children and grandchildren are scattered around the globe. It’s rare to have all of your family at one dinner anymore. My father is here and my son is close enough to visit, but my daughters are in CA and VT. My aunt is in CA. My brother-in-law is in Kuwait. The rest of my husband’s family is in IA. Scattered. So the four of us will enjoy our turkey dinner, but it would taste so much better if eight or ten of us were enjoying it together!

          I hope you are part of a caring community of family and friends. I hope you count your blessings as you gather tomorrow. I hope you have a Wonderful Thanksgiving.

Today

I lead a quiet life. Sometimes I feel guilty because I don’t accomplish enough. Sometimes I feel overwhelmed by how much I think I “should” do. My daughter likes lists so I thought I would make a list of what I did today.

1. Got up at 6am even though it’s my day off. Fixed coffee and cinnamon toast for hubby. Fed the fish and the cats.
2. Started a load of laundry and did the dishes.
3. Worked on a writing project for about an hour.
4. Ordered corn poppy seeds from Wildseed Farms. One of my favorite flowers from one of my favorite growers.
5. Surfed the web and checked my email.
6. Went to the post office.
7. Went to the movie store to return “Kingdom of Heaven”, which by the way, wasn’t that good.
8. Went to the library and checked out four novels.
9. Went to WalMart and bought tulip bulbs for the downtown planter, groceries for Thursday, parts for the toilet,  and two Christmas presents. Turned in my film for processing.
10. Ate lunch at home.
11. Fixed the toilet.
12. Visited with my dad. He brought me a piece of plywood he cut for one of my projects.
13. Picked up the trash can that my neighbor’s dog turned over and the trash that he spread all over the yard!! Said some hateful things while doing it! 
14. More laundry.
15. Picked up limbs and leaves from a pruning project I started on Saturday.
16. Watered the peach tree.
17. Cleaned the path around the old garden.
18. Pruned another crape myrtle.
19. Sat down to rest on the couch and fell asleep. Woke up thirty minutes later.
20. Wrapped two boxes of Christmas presents.
21. Printed out draft copies of some of my blogs.
22. Ate leftover spaghetti, alone. (Hubby won’t be home until late.)
23. Went to a community meeting for almost two hours.
24. Home by 8:30.
25. Folded the last of the laundry.
26. Checked my email.
27. Typed this.

Hopefully I’ll read for a bit and then go to bed! I think I’ve had enough “vacation” for today.

The Deer Woods

Tomorrow morning half the male population of our church will be gone. It’s the opening weekend of deer season and they will be off to “the deer woods”. I’m not sure where the deer woods are, but I imagine they are far enough away from wives and children to afford our men a peaceful weekend of manly camaraderie. I even suspect that a few men aren’t actually off in the woods at all, but know a good excuse when they hear one. My daughter asked me yesterday why I’m out of school all this week. I told her that no one officially says it, but it’s because Thanksgiving and deer hunting fall in the same week. The majority of school administrators are men. The majority of school board members are men. It doesn’t take a brain surgeon to figure out why we are on a break. What better time for the kids to be out of school, and Mom to be out Christmas shopping than while Dad is “in the deer woods”?

Although you won’t find deer woods on the map, many men lease a portion of someone’s property for their annual deer hunting excursion. They also buy tall structures called “deer stands” so they can watch for the deer from a better vantage point. Some even buy “deer corn” and feed the deer at a specific spot for weeks before the “hunt”. That seems about as sporting as walking out and shooting a cow. Why not just bypass the whole hunting idea and make a trail of deer corn from the woods to the slaughter house?

My husband, a foreigner by virtue of his non-hunting, California, city upbringing has had to adjust to the concept of deer hunting. It still amazes him when the paper shows the photo of some twelve-year-old girl with her “first kill”. It makes him shake his head when he sees a whole family, from infant to Grandpa, dressed in camouflage. But I grew up with hunting.

My dad killed anything that even looked like it was good to eat. I’ve eaten squirrel, rabbit, quail, dove, pheasant, duck, and deer  because of my father’s skill with a gun. (I suspect I’ve eaten opossum too, but I’m afraid to ask.) I understand the concept of killing to put food on the table. I don’t have a problem “killing Bambi” especially when I read the facts about deer. Deer kill. They kill us. In many states deer vs. vehicle accidents have tripled over the past few years. That’s because the Bambi population is rising. According to a Reader’s Digest report the “number of vehicle and deer collisions is conservatively put at 1.5 million a year. One major factor: The deer population has grown from 500,000 to 30 million in the past century. Texas, for example, is now home to 3.5 million deer, compared to 225,000 in 1940.” Wildlife experts are even trying to find a way to give birth control pills to deer. But the most effective, and most popular “birth control” seems to be hunting.

I think I killed a deer. If not, there is a deer out there with a severe limp. I hit it with my car while traveling at a speed of about 50mph. It bounced off the front bumper and rolled over the hood and then the top of the car. I was unhurt, but it did $2,000 damage to my car. I was lucky. Many drivers never walk away from an encounter with a deer.

So… I don’t have a problem with hunting and killing deer. I do find it amusing however, that men go to such lengths to justify their deer hunting. First of all they always tell me they love deer meat.  However, they follow that statement with an admission that they make sausage with most of it! Now I’m thinking that you could add enough sausage spice to yak meat to make it taste good. I’ve never had a deer steak or chop or whatever that tasted any better than the toughest old steer. But I understand the reasoning. If you spend thousands of dollars on the clothing, guns, ammo, camping gear, deer stands, license and property lease required to bring home a deer it had better taste good; it had better taste REALLY good!

There’s no real point to this. I’m not trying to convince anyone to hunt or not hunt. It’s just interesting to observe human nature sometimes. And it’s ironic that as I sit here typing I can hear gunshots in the distance. Perhaps the “deer woods” are closer than I think! Ya’ll be careful out there today. I sure will!

Money

          Send the children out of the room. We’re going to talk about a controversial subject.  Yes, it may get ugly. There may be things said that you don’t want little ears to hear. There may be things said that you don’t want to hear, but now that I have your attention you just can’t turn away. Because the truth is, we’re fascinated by money. We need it, but can’t seem to keep it. When we do have it we want more. If we don’t have it we beg, borrow and even steal it.

Money is a very personal thing. Most people are more secretive about their money than they are about their sex life. I’ve figured out that if people tell you about their money it’s usually because they are trying to provoke one of two responses in you: envy or pity. They want you to be envious if they have a lot of money, but are still feeling insecure. They want you to feel pity if they don’t have enough money and they hope to beg or borrow it from you.

I’ve known a few wealthy people and a few poor people. Most of the people I know fall somewhere in between, but think they are at either end of the scale. The wealthy people I’ve known have had just as many personal, spiritual, family, and health problems as anyone else. Money really doesn’t buy happiness. It just buys bigger toys. You can live in a big house and drive a fancy car and watch a gigantic television screen and still have a wife who cheats on you or a child who uses drugs or a parent who has Alzheimer’s. There are some things that money just can’t fix. So there goes your dream of winning the lottery and solving all your problems.

That’s what a lot of people do. They buy lottery tickets and live on dreams of someday solving all their problems in one fell swoop of the checkbook. Most of us don’t want to scrimp and save the way our parents or grandparents did. We don’t want to “do without”. We have grown up in a culture that says we deserve the best and the biggest and newest. We just have to figure out how to pay for it! For some people that means working long hours. It means having two or even three jobs. It means borrowing. It means credit cards and life-long debt. For a few it means gambling, lying, cheating, or stealing. Yes, I lumped those together for a reason. If you really become devoted to gambling you are lying to yourself about your chances of winning, cheating your family of time and money, and stealing from something else in your budget.

I’ll tell you a secret about money that I’ve just learned in the last few years. First let me say that  I’m not an accountant and I do well to manage my own meager budget. I don’t have any training in finances and I really don’t understand the stock market. My son says I’m ignorant of the way a lot of things in government and politics work. I think that’s the whole intent of government and politics, but that’s another blog. Anyway, the secret I’ve learned is this: there is enough money in the United States to do anything we want to do.

Consider the problems we have in this country. We have homeless people who are sick and hungry. We have children who are crowded into crumbling schools. We have seniors who can’t afford their medications or pay their electric bills. We have veterans who can’t afford even modest housing. We have jails overflowing. I could go on for another page just listing some of the problems confronting us. Most of these could be solved with money. Oh, I know there are laws and social problems and politics involved. There are things that might take another generation to actually solve. But lots of money would certainly be the place to start. And we have LOTS of money! If you don’t believe me then you haven’t been listening to the news.

Our president pledges $50 billion here and $50 billion there like he was printing it on a copy machine in the oval office. We don’t have the money for education. We can’t afford healthcare. But if a disaster strikes we find the money to help. I’m not saying we shouldn’t be helping. I’m just asking where we found the money. A recent election report said a candidate had spent $100 million on his campaign. Why didn’t he use that money to actually do some of the things I’m sure he promised the voters he would do once he was in office?  Sports figures earn millions of dollars to impress us with their abilities . Movie stars get millions to entertain us. Why have we elevated them to the place where they make more money than people who save lives? Lottery winners win $340 million dollars and we don’t even think about the implications of where any of that money came from.  Well, it came from the pockets of a lot of people who could have done something better with it. Think about the concept of the lottery for a moment. If we can pool our little dollars together so that someone “wins” $340 million dollars, then why can’t we pool our little dollars together to solve our problems? Because we don’t want to.

Our priorities are out of balance. Our values are slipping away from us. Greed is eating away at our lives. I’m not saying I don’t want a better house. I’m not saying I’m ashamed of driving a new car. I’m not saying I always make good decisions about money. I don’t. But as a society, as a nation we must start making better decisions.

We must hold our leaders more accountable. We have to start demanding answers about the millions and billions of dollars that seem to be wasted on things that don’t help us improve the lives of everyday people.

We must stop revering people just because they can entertain us. We have to make salaries more equitable in more professions. 

We must punish, really punish, those business leaders who lie and cheat and steal from their companies and employees.

We must start paying more attention to where our money comes from and where it goes.

We have LOTS of money.

Lets do something good with it!

Fashion

I’m not a “stylish” woman. And even though I know a few of you are snickering, I’m not a “slob” either. I just don’t have the time and energy to think about a lot of fashion rules. My major accomplishment most mornings is picking out something that is clean, ironed, and suitable for the weather. I iron because most of my clothing is cotton or a cotton blend. I hate the feel of synthetics, don’t like static cling, and don’t like anything that can’t be washed.  I don’t wear anything expensive because: 1. I’m frugal. 2. I teach an age group that is close to the ground and always dirty, sticky, sweaty, or all three.

I do have a sense of what is stylish and/or tasteful. After all, I worked at Macy’s for five years. Not only did I dress up and wear makeup, but I went to classes and paid attention. I learned “a dozen ways to tie a scarf”, “how to accessorize your evening dress”, and “how to shop for a cruise”. I helped customers select everything from underwear to table ware. I can do it, I just don’t want to anymore.

            I suppose my years at Macy’s also helped form my dislike for most “label addicts”. I understand that some people are brand loyal because of fit or price or a dozen other reasons. I have preferences just like anyone else. You can’t get to be as old as I am without having some preferences. However, there are preferences and then there are bold, in-your-face, LOOK WHAT I’M WEARING statements made by people who make sure you understand exactly whose label they are wearing, and how much it cost and/or how difficult it was to find. What I dislike are people who not only need a label to make themselves feel worthwhile, but need a label to make themselves feel superior to everyone else. And everything in our culture today encourages that addiction, feeds that addiction. It’s not enough that adults are compelled to be stylish consumers, we have to foist our addiction upon unsuspecting children.

            You can’t tell me that any child has a natural “sense of style”. Children want to be comfortable. Period. Anything beyond that is learned. It’s learned from parents, advertisements, peers, television, rock stars, you name it. Individual style develops from that environmental foundation. Children seek clothing that makes them feel good, physically and emotionally.. They like certain colors and textures. They like the way some clothing feels or shines. But if anything about a piece of clothing makes them feel unloved or disapproved of by the significant adults in their life it becomes unattractive to them.(Until they are teens and then the disapproval of adults becomes their primary goal. It’s a reverse psychology thing, trust me.)  To a young child the way a significant adult feels about their style takes precedence over their own feelings.  That’s an important aspect of  fashion that many adults overlook.

            I’m giving out a “Shame on You” raspberry this week to child magazine and I’m also sending a letter to the publisher . The subtitle for child (yes, that’s the way they write it) says “Raising Kids with Smarts and Style”. Well, I beg to differ with them on their definition of style. The cover of the December/January issue shows two kindergarten children not only dressed, but posed, like little adults. Their outfits are expensive and pretentious, but it is the pose that really bothers me. If people have lots of money to spend on dressing their children I guess it is none of my business. But I think it is dangerous for us to expect them to look “stylish” instead of just looking like children. If you don’t understand the difference, look at the December issue of Parents magazine. That’s a child- a beautiful child- but one that looks natural and relaxed.

            I’ve had some stylish children in my classes over the years. Most are either arrogant because they’ve been told how much better they are than everyone else,  insecure because they somehow know that the person inside of them can’t quite live up to the decorated outside of them, or just plain uncomfortable because they want to do a lot of things that are restricted by their clothing and the “rules” that go along with style. I know it’s difficult to believe, but I’ve had five year olds not only tell me the brand of clothing they are wearing, but make fun of someone with “plain clothes”.  I used to have a student whose mantra was “I can’t get dirty”. Try being a five year old and living by that rule! I had another one who was so stylish he usually couldn’t get through all the layers of buttons and belts and accessories to go to the bathroom. I had a girl in one of my classes who wanted to play with the other children, but her dresses were too frilly for any sort of real play.  We can get so carried away with decorating our children that we forget they are children.

            Several years ago I wrote an article for ParentLife entitled “Are You Decorating Your Child?”. In it I explored the idea that we see our children as a reflection of ourselves and their appearance is important to us because we want others to perceive us as good parents. We have the mistaken notion that “attractive=good and/or well-behaved”. But I also asked the question, “Are we dressing our children in clothing which meets their needs, or decorating them for our amusement or our own needs?”. That question is even more relevant today when children are not only being dressed in designer labels, but in clothing that is decorated with slogans most of them can’t read. Our children are being encouraged to spend money, support causes, emulate rock stars, and “dress up” before they grow up.

            I believe in moderation in all things. I think we can apply that to fashion and we can make better choices. We can look nice without being obsessive about labels and prices and designers. We can be comfortable without being slobs. We can be casual, but respectable. We can value each others differences. And we can teach our children that who they are is far more important and long lasting than what they wear. 

Garden Views

Gary and I have been photographing our little world lately. Our photos of Caddo are on my other blog. We've framed some photos and made a few photo cards for Craighead's, the local five and dime store. So I thought I would share a few photos with you this week. Most were taken in our yard and nearby fields. Gary read in a book that we are "backyard habitat" photographers. I think that means we are too lazy to travel very far! Seriously, I think that means that people often overlook the beauty in their own backyards. When there is a viewfinder in front of me I tend to look harder, and closer for something worthwhile.

You can also scroll back down a bit to my Thanksgiving blog. I've inserted a turkey photo that I took at my dad's house a few years ago.

If you would like to see more photos from time to time, please let me know. I like to take pictures almost as much as I like to write. I have hundreds and I'm always taking more. I took a roll today!

Teachers

I’ve been teaching in our building long enough now for the “older” children to recognize me and they often stop me for a hug or a comment. One of the second graders brought me a heart yesterday that said “I love you”. Sweet. And it made me wonder about how some of my students will think of me, or if they will think of me at all, in twenty years.

I don’t remember my kindergarten teacher. Not surprising since I went to so many schools. I do remember making an igloo out of sugar cubes! Does anyone use those anymore? Can you even buy them? My kindergarten teacher must have at least been creative.

My second grade teacher was so young that it’s difficult to pick her out in our class photo. I don’t remember much about her except that she was cheerful.

Most of the teachers I remember are from the fifth grade and beyond. I’m sure you can remember that first junior-high English teacher who introduced you to “writer’s block” by assigning a paper entitled either “How I Spend My Summer Vacation” or “My Life Story”. Mine was Mrs. Kennington. She was tall and rather plump and she wore simple, dark, shirt-waist dresses. Her hair was brown and drab with lots of gray streaks in it and she kept it pulled into a bun at the nape of her neck. She had thick glasses with heavy black frames and she had a rather disdainful way of looking down through the bottom of them when she stood next to my desk. I suppose if I had been wiser I would have known she wore bifocals. She also wore a long chain around her neck and at the end of it was a huge clump of keys and a shiny whistle. She blew the whistle every time someone misbehaved on the playground. Since someone was always misbehaving on the playground, we grew to hate the sound of that whistle.  But Mrs. Kennington made sure I learned about grammar. She was adamant about diagramming sentences, and she abhorred poor spelling. I guess I owe her a “thank you” and I hope she isn’t looking down from heaven and shaking her head over my sentence fragments.

Mr. Kennedy dressed in a suit and had a gravelly voice. On cold days he wore a long trench coat. He reminded me of a detective, but he taught eighth grade English. He believed in my writing talent from the very first week of school. He loved my stories and arranged for me to attend an author’s tea and autograph party. I don’t even remember who the author was, but I determined that very day that I would always write. Whenever I’m especially pleased with a piece of work I still think of him.

          There are other teachers who made enough of an impression to stay in my memory. A business teacher convinced me that I wasn’t “too dumb to handle money”. A math teacher stayed after school each day to drag me through geometry. A home economics teacher taught me skills that I still use today. A music teacher had faith in me and convinced me to sing my first solo. An art teacher introduced me to the joy of painting. And of course there are a few bad examples of the teaching profession in my memories. One math teacher was fired for pushing my classmate over a trash can. A science teacher teased me constantly and even swatted me on the behind with a ruler. A social studies teacher was so boring I was nearly comatose in his class. Most of my teachers were ordinary people just doing their job. Each of them- good, bad, or outstanding- contributed to who I am. Each of them taught me something about being a student and about being an adult.

I guess what I hope for my own career is that I will be that “outstanding” teacher for at least a few students. I hope I enable some of my students to follow their dreams. I hope I’m remembered fondly by one of them twenty or thirty years from now.