The View from Here

The Other Side of Immigration

Gary and I often watch the HGTV series “House Hunters International” and we are frequently baffled by the reasons people give for their move to a foreign country. We understand employment, falling in love, family ties. But sometimes the couples on the show go somewhere on vacation and quickly decide to sell their home, pack up the kids and dog, and move across the ocean without a job or a clue of what legal challenges they will encounter. We don’t understand how they can abandon everything they know because some foreign destination has a nice beach or a primitive lifestyle. Apparently we are not alone. 68% of Americans never leave the country, even on vacation. Although we’ve been to Mexico and Canada, we have no desire to live in either place.

Because of the show, and the daily discussions about people moving to our country, I decided to Google a few statistics. Here is just a tiny bit of what I found:

The Census Bureau does not know the number of private Americans living abroad under non-military circumstances.

No accurate estimate exists of the total number of Americans living abroad, but it is generally accepted as at least 2 million. Higher figures range between 4 and 9 million.

Americans living in a foreign country are still required to pay taxes and may vote by absentee ballot.

Countries with the most U.S. citizens are Mexico, Canada, Israel, United Kingdom, France, and Germany.

Some Americans in foreign countries retain their U. S. citizenship. Others give up that status. Some obtain dual citizenship or are born with dual citizenship.

Find Law

Recognition of Dual Citizenship in the U.S.

The United States does not formally recognize dual citizenship. However, it also has not taken any stand against it, either legally or politically. Typically, no American will forfeit his or her citizenship by undertaking the responsibilities of citizenship in another country. This is true even if the responsibilities include traveling with a foreign passport, voting in another country's election, or running for and/or serving in public office of another country. In most cases, it is unimportant to U.S. authorities whether another country also claims you as a citizen.

I plan to do more reading and perhaps you will too.

My Peaceful Place

 

If Hagerman National Wildlife Refuge was closer to our house I would probably visit at least once a week. It always refreshes my soul and restores my sense of peace and order.

Roses

I have a love-hate relationship with roses. Love the flowers. Hate the thorns.

One of the most traumatic memories of my childhood is that of my brother managing to get a very large rose thorn embedded in the top of his foot. He had been running in the yard, chasing the dog, when he got too close to the bush and tangled his foot in the lower stems. My father, never a believer in “running off to the doctor” with every little injury, pulled the thorn out with his pliers while my brother screamed. We both learned that day to fear and respect roses…and to deal with most injuries on our own. 

A few years later I used roses to ensure my privacy. We moved to a house with a large rose hedge in one corner of the yard. I figured out how to avoid the thorns, creep behind it, and sit in the corner with my back to the fence. In that position I could read my book in peace and quiet while my brother avoided the roses.

When we lived in Georgetown, Texas, the man at the end of our block had a rose bush at the corner of his yard. I was completely fascinated by it because the roses it produced were green. They were tiny little blooms, but they were truly green. He had no explanation for them and I’ve never seen any quite like them. I suspect they were supposed to be white or yellow and something “went wrong”.

My grandmother, Beatrice Simmons, loved roses. She loved their colors and lush blooms and she knew the names of the ones in her yard. I only recall “Mr. Lincoln” and “Bing Crosby”. I know there was a yellow one, but the name escapes me. And while I wasn’t really a willing student, Gran taught me how to prune and care for roses. I memorized the instructions, but I didn’t think I would ever need them.

When Gary and I bought our first house there were lovely roses in the front flower bed. The owners of the house were so fond of them that we agreed to allow them to take the roses with them, and they dug up every one. I was actually relieved because I didn’t want to walk past them each day.

Gary worked for a few years with a truck driver whose hobby was growing miniature roses. I had never seen them before and I was intrigued by his passion for them. He had rows and rows of different colors, and like my grandmother, knew the names of each one.

Mom and Dad were fond of climbing roses. The bright red blooms that adorned their fence always reminded me of the wild roses that bloom in the woods near Mom’s childhood home. Perhaps that’s why she liked them.

I have come full circle with roses. There are three bushes here that were planted by someone else and were rather neglected when we moved in. So I recalled the training I received from Gran and gave them a careful pruning. They have rewarded me by producing more blooms that I can count. I took pictures of them yesterday, and I may cut a few for the table…but I’ll be careful to avoid the thorns. I’m saving my pliers for other tasks!

Thoughts About Education, 1900

It isn’t often that I talk about my history research here, but yesterday I read this piece and felt compelled to share it. This was written for the annual report of the United States Indian Inspector for the Indian Territory to the Secretary of the Interior. The annual report included accountings from a variety of industries and their leaders. If you are a student, teacher, or parent I think you will find it interesting and informative.  

Written by John D. Benedict, Superintendent of Schools, Indian Territory, 1900

It is high time that those who are responsible for the education of any class of children should realize that their educational training should be such as will prepare the children for the fullest enjoyment of the kind of life which they, in all human probability, are likely to lead. The purpose of the Government in educating children is to prepare them to become good citizens. It is true that one who is able to support himself and his family and is orderly in the community and obedient to the laws is a good citizen; but one who can do these things and in addition thereto can help other people to live by giving them employment, or who can add to the wealth of the world, is a still better citizen. Paupers, criminals, idlers, the sick, and the helpless are not useful citizens; but only those who are fitted for self-support, who are able to take care of money, who are able to buy and pay for the products of others, who are prepared to do a part in this commercial, industrial, mechanical world as now organized, are good citizens. To make such citizens is the aim of our best modern schools.

An education which fits for teaching, preaching, medicine, law, or for clerking in a store is good for those who follow those vocations; but all cannot, follow them. None of these vocations are constructive. It is only by work that all these material things that make our civilization so superior to all others have come into being. The work of the world must be done or we shall at once fall below the plane of civilization on which we are now living. It, therefore, is the function of these schools to train its pupils to work—to be able to learn how to build houses, how to furnish them, how to care for house and furniture, how to cook food so it will be both palatable and healthful as well as economical—how to make garments and how to mend them, and how to make and manage the machinery which is now so large a part of all our home and business life.

There is no difficulty in teaching these things to children and young people. There is nothing else that is so interesting to them, nor anything else in which their advancement is more marked. These matters are easily put in such form that the child or young person readily learns them. The great success of the manual-training and domestic-science schools of all places where established fully proves that these arts can be as readily taught as any other branches of our educational curricula.

That German manufactures are found in every market at this dawn of the twentieth century is the result of establishing such schools in the Fatherland.

Nor need any one fear that pure education—mental discipline—will suffer by the founding of such schools. It has been proved beyond question that our men of large affairs are our men of greatest mental power; that business gives a mental training fully equal to that of the books; that the world around us and our minds are so interrelated that for most people there is no higher mental discipline possible than the discipline that comes in the lines of the preparation of the most useful and most helpful living.

It is a true saying, “As the twig is bent, the tree is inclined.” It is also true that the bent given the child in his school days determines his inclination in after life. If his schooling is entirely in books, his inclination will be toward some bookish profession; and if we wish him to follow some more active vocation we must give him a more active training. If he is to be an agriculturist, he should be trained along the lines of farming and stock raising and the like. If he is to be a builder, he should be trained along the lines of mechanics and architecture. If he is to go to the head of some great business interest, he must be trained along the lines that pertain to that business. If he is to be a mechanic, it is better to give him a training of the hand that will fit him to do his work well and easily. Manual training is hand training and hand training is brain training, for the hand can only do the things which the brain has first thought out. To get the greatest brain training the hand also must be trained. The scientist has shown us that the brain tracts which control the nerves that extend to the hand are of very great area. There is no way to cultivate these brain tracts—to develop these brain cells—but by training the hand. Other things being equal, the man having the best hand training has the highest education. Those people which are foremost in the world’s affairs have the highest hand training. The preeminence of the Greeks in the highest culture of the world for the past two thousand years is due largely to their wonderful hand training as shown in their temples, their columns, and their statuary. It is only what the hand does that endures. The human voice may speak words that will move the hearers to deeds of marvelous heroism. The voice of the singer may melt to tears or raise to loftiest ecstasy, but when the orator is absent or dead, and when the singer is silent, their powers are gone forever.

But let the hand be trained so that the words of the orator may be written down, cut in marble, or printed in books, let the song of the singer be written in music, and the words of the orator may thrill thousands who live in distant lands and the notes of the singer may send their sweet echo round the world.

It is only by the hand that man can give birth to his fullest thoughts and make them immortal. Does he think a beautiful edifice? If his hand is trained he can draw it upon paper, and other men with trained hands can erect it. Does he think out a new machine? The thought is worthless unless with trained hand he can work it out in metal and in wood, as did Fulton and Watt. Do beautiful forms flit through his brain? No one else can be charmed by their beauty unless, like Michael Angelo, he can paint them on dome or canvas. “The artist sees in the wayside stone the angel form struggling to be free,” but the angel will never enjoy its freedom till some one whose hands are skilled with mallet and chisel releases it from its bondage.

When it is realized how much of our health and wealth and life and happiness depend upon the skillful hands of some one, or rather of many, can any one doubt that there is need of hand training in the schools? Nor can this training wisely be delayed till later life. Unless those brain cells that connect with the delicate nerves of the hands and the fingers are used in youth they will not grow, and very early in the life of the youth it becomes impossible for them to be used. So the modern school gives the boy as well as the girl the needle and the knife to use, and later other delicate instruments that these nerve tracts may come into use, and may grow as the child grows. Boys need this training quite as much as girls. That the fingers of the average man are very much more awkward than those of the average woman is because in youth he did not receive the delicate training that she received. A baby boy’s fingers are no more clumsy than a baby girl’s, and if he is to be as deft as she he must have the same youthful training. Since steam and electricity have been harnessed to do the work of man, he needs a great dexterity of hand rather than great physical power.

Regarding domestic science—household arts—all that needs be said is: All the world eats and nearly all the world lives in houses. Probably 90 per cent of “all the ills that human flesh is heir to” have their origin in our food or in our unsanitary homes. Very many families fail to accumulate property—are kept always in poverty—because of wastefulness in cooking and in the other household matters, or because of sickness produced by faulty cooking and unwise eating or unhealthy home surroundings. . There is enough of wisdom in the world to save people from this poverty and this sickness. And this wisdom can easily be put in a teachable form, and can be presented to girls so that they take great pleasure in learning it; nor is it more expensive than any other kind of schooling. It only needs that these schools be established and then all is so simple, so easy, and of such high value that everybody will wonder why these things were not always taught.

The teaching of these industrial arts does not in any way lessen the amount of scholarship acquired along the usual scholastic lines, but on the contrary is an aid to them. The rule is that those pupils who are most proficient in their literature, languages, mathematics, and sciences are also the ablest in their industrial arts and studies.

The work of the world must be done. It were better done by skilled than by unskilled hands. The vast majority of these children must do some kind of work or business. The school should train them for their life work. As these schools have heretofore been conducted their tendency has been to train away from work rather than toward work. The result is that work and business are distasteful to our Indian pupils. It is believed that an industrial schooling will change this matter greatly, and that the lives of many can be made pleasant where otherwise they would be irksome.

Ignorance is Often Deadly

“Those horrid fits of depression, melancholy, low spirits, and sudden irritability that sometimes afflict even good-tempered people is due to the blood being permeated with black bile. Herbine will purify the blood, restore health and cheerfulness. Price 50 cents.”

“No family can afford to be without One Minute Cough Cure. It will stop a cough and cure a cold quicker than any other medicine…It cures croup, bronchitis, and all throat and lung troubles and prevents consumption. Pleasant and harmless.”

“DeWitt’s Witch Hazel Salve soothes the most delicate skin and heals the most stubborn ulcer with certain and good results. Cures piles and skin diseases.”

“Kodol Dysepsia Cure is an excellent remedy in case of stomach trouble…cannot fail to cure.”

These drug ads from 1900 probably brought a smile to your face. Perhaps you even chuckled a bit over their ridiculous claims. However, the sad reality is that many people believed these promises. Some became sicker because of them, and more than a few people died. Perhaps even sadder is the fact that the basic concepts of the ads are not really ANY different from the ones I saw on television last night.

                It’s ironic that these ads from the local drug store were on the same page as an article about the widespread smallpox epidemic in Indian Territory. I was curious about the treatments and cures for the disease so I checked several newspapers from local communities. I was appalled by the results. Just as a reminder, smallpox was a virus, spread by close human contact and exposure to coughing, spitting, etc. There was a vaccine, but often the complications from the vaccine proved fatal for those with weak immune systems. Patients were treated with a variety of drugs, but most just provided some relief from the fever and discomfort. Smallpox left people weak and horribly scarred…if they lived.

                The primary prevention plan for smallpox was isolation. Anyone with symptoms was quickly quarantined in their home or a local “pest house”. There were so many patients during the epidemic of 1899-1900 that smallpox camps were established and operated for months. They treated hundreds of patients and vaccinated thousands. Anyone who learned of a nearby outbreak was bound to be desperate to avoid getting the dreaded disease. Here is a sampling of what they were advised to do:

1. Eat plain food and avoid meat.
2. Clean your outhouse.
3. Don’t use paper to cover your walls.
4. Put ½ teaspoon of sulphur in each of your socks, daily.
5. Fumigate your houses.
6. Take a dose of sulphur and cream of tartar daily. Check with a nurse for the ratio.

                Smallpox continued to kill people for many, many years until it was finally eradicated in 1980. Reading about it gives me a new perspective of my ancestor’s lives, and also a much great appreciation for my own healthcare. However, I know there are still “quacks” among us and there are still questionable cures for a variety of diseases, especially the common cold. We must stay informed and not let ignorance harm us or our loved ones.  

I found this at the end of an official report of the epidemic of 1900. 

Encouraged in heart and united in love …

 

            Each morning as I face a blank page and search my heart and mind for a hint of what to write here, I marvel that God has blessed this little barefoot country girl with the ability and the opportunity to share her thoughts. No matter how old I get or how much I accomplish, that young, wary, insecure child still resides within in me and often doubts my ability to achieve my goals. I think about that a lot in the spring when I see photos of young students set to graduate and take on the challenges of “real life”. My Dad used that expression a lot, and I sometimes wondered how my childhood and adolescence, filled with pain and problems and general angst, could have been any more “real”. I suppose that like most parents Dad considered independent living to be the ultimate goal and I had yet to achieve that. Actually I never have…

            I find it ironic that we spend so much time and energy and money advancing the idea that we need to be strong, self-sufficient, self-directed, and self-motivated when the Bible and the actuality of daily life teaches the antithesis of those concepts. From the moment we take our first breath until the moment we take our last, we are dependent on the love, care, and control of someone else. Take a few moments to give that some serious thought. Someone else created the lights I turned on this morning, the Bible I read, the heater that is keeping me comfortable, the food I will eat for breakfast…we are not castaways on an island.  Our lives are intimately entwined and each moment is an act of faith and trust.  Only Adam came into the world alone and almost immediately God decided that he needed a helper. And although the Bible is filled with stories of brave men and women who “stood up” to the evil ways of others, the underlying message throughout the book is that the preferred way to achieve our goals is by being loving, understanding, and forgiving. We’re told to share the gospel, not beat people over the head with it. We’re told to treat others as we wish to be treated; to forgive others as Christ forgave us; to give God the glory, not brag about our own.

            This morning I read Paul’s hope in Colossians that others would be “encouraged in heart and united in love”. As I look at the smiling faces of this year’s graduates and I think about the children I love who will follow them in the coming years, I hope they do not feel like they are about to face adulthood all alone.  I hope they understand that they have the support of their family and friends and community. I hope they realize that their future depends on learning to work with others. I pray they will encourage the hearts of the people they encounter in the “real world” and live united in love.

Spring Cleaning

If my mother was still alive she would no doubt spend this week of warm spring weather cleaning her house. She would move the furniture in order to clean under and behind each piece. And perhaps she would rearrange some of it just for a change. She would take the curtains down and wash them. Wash the windows. Mop the floors. Dust the shelves. Wash the artificial flowers she had in several vases. Wash spots and stains off the cabinets and walls. Change the kitchen drawer liners. Oh my…I’m getting tired just recalling the ritual of “spring cleaning”.

I can remember neighbor women talking about the chores of spring. Most, like Mom, were good housekeepers all year long. Yes, there was the usual “clutter” and chaos of family life, but Mom dealt with it by having routines and generally keeping up with messes on a daily basis. However, in the winter it was always difficult to stay warm and also keep everything clean. Houses were also darker in the winter. We had a wood stove that smoked a bit from time to time. So the warmth and light of spring revealed some dirt and grime.

When I was younger I emulated some of my mother’s spring habits. I was especially good at washing windows and mopping. And I worked for a cleaning service for several years and learned some “tricks of the trade”. Over the years I’ve made some changes to my cleaning routines and of course the tools I now use are better and make cleaning easier. Major spring cleaning isn’t really necessary, but there are still a few chores that are best done in the warmth and light of spring.

I got up this morning and acknowledged to myself that I really, really need to dust. It’s my least favorite chore and I sometimes put it off for another day…until, well, it must be done. I’ve decided that I need to be smarter and just dust one room each week, quickly and efficiently, rather than put it off until the entire house is in dire need. Before you decide that I’m crazy, remember that I collect elephants and have about 100 scattered around the house.  Dusting is the price I pay for being surrounded by my collection!

I won’t be moving any furniture this spring. Since we’ve been in this house for less than six months I doubt there is much under the couch that needs cleaning. I’ll wash a couple of windows because I need to see the birds. I’ll wash some blankets and put them away. I’ll wash some baseboards and door frames. Then I’m going to go outside and do some pruning and planting and watering and…Mom will understand. I have my own version of “spring cleaning”.

Through a Lens

I am blessed to have lots of opportunities to use my camera:

Saturday we wandered around Hagerman Wildlife Refuge.

Sunday my brother visited and Gary took this photo for me.

Yesterday I photographed the “yard of the month” in Caddo.

Eager to see what I can photograph today!

 

 

Reasonably Happy

Only one piece of paper is tucked within my Bible: the serenity prayer. I don’t read it often, perhaps once every three months, but I don’t want to search for it when I need it, so I keep it handy. I read it when I’m a little discouraged. I read it when things are going really well. I read it when I feel God urging me to do so. Those are usually the times when I’m being unfairly judgmental of others. I won’t explain why I read it last week, but the line that really struck home was “that I may be reasonably happy in this life”.  That begs two questions. First of course- What is reasonably happy? Second- Am I reasonably happy?

Gary and I are fond of those HGTV renovation shows where the couple looks at several houses and chooses one to remodel into their “dream home”. They are never reasonably happy with a house! It always as to be bigger, better, and brighter. It has to have a big living room, a huge kitchen, a master bedroom as big as a hotel suite, and enough bedrooms and bathrooms for a continuous parade of house guests. Oh, and a media room and pool would be nice! I sit in my recliner and feel very satisfied by the much smaller space we occupy, knowing that I would be very unhappy to be faced with all that cleaning and maintenance.

It seems that in most aspects of our life we are looking for bigger, better, and brighter. And there is nothing inherently wrong with that. Even the Bible encourages self-improvement. We are to grow in wisdom, change our attitude, and transform our behavior so that we attain joy and spread love. But God also makes it clear that perfection is not a goal that can be achieved in this lifetime on earth. We are asking for trouble and unhappiness if we think that we are going to be the one person who doesn’t make mistakes, who doesn’t mess things up, or doesn’t wind up whining or even weeping over the results. So somewhere in the middle of our pursuit of happiness there must be a plateau where we feel peace and confidence, where we are reasonably happy even if things don’t always turn out as we dreamed. Ahhh…

Back to the house renovations. Gary and I have realized after watching the shows for a while that people who end up dissatisfied with their homes are the ones who overlooked basic issues: foundation cracks, water leaks, electrical problems. They can’t achieve their decorative goals until the basic structure is safe and sound. We face the same truth when we try to renovate our lives. Our foundation- belief, faith, principles- must be solid so that we can withstand the challenges we face each day and still achieve our goal of being happy. The beginning of the serenity prayer makes it clear that we need wisdom, courage, acceptance, understanding, and trust before we reap the reward of being “reasonably happy”.

And yes, I AM reasonably happy. There are aspects of my life that need improvement. There are goals I haven’t achieved. There are relationships I’d like to improve. There are things I’d like to do and have and see…but today I am at peace with the foundation of my life. How about you?

Riding the Bus to School

This photo was taken before my time, but shows that little has changed.

 

I start off each day reading my Bible and then I read a few articles from the newspaper archives. This morning I read about Caddo’s first day of school in 1939. Mention was made of the number of children riding the bus into town from their farm homes in the county. The start of school had been postponed that year in order to finish gathering the crops, primarily the cotton. Some children were still in the fields and were encouraged by the superintendent to enroll as soon as they could.

My mind was immediately drawn to the similarities in my own school experience. In California school schedules were often adjusted to accommodate the fall harvest. We arrived at school fresh from the fields, eager to escape the heat and the tedious work of cutting grapes. I was more than ready to use my brain instead of my hands. The only thing I didn’t particularly like was riding the bus.

For most of my school life we lived close enough to the school for me to walk to the campus. In some instances that meant walking a mile, but it didn’t seem that far because I had a group of friends going in the same direction. By the time I reached home there was still at least one child with me. However, a couple of years stand out in my memory because I had to ride the bus, and one of those years I was the first child picked up in the morning and nearly the last one dropped off in the afternoon.  I hated the experience.

First of all, I didn’t like the general environment of the bus. It was cold in the winter and hot in the summer. It smelled bad- a combination of sweaty kids, cheap plastic, and diesel. It was noisy and the kids were rowdy. The only time that talking was discouraged was when we turned onto a major highway for a short time. Then our driver would attempt to control us with a harsh look and some brief yelling. Most of us complied. The bus rocked and swayed and bumped and lunged, making it difficult to read or write while it was in motion. I eventually learned to read on the way to school, especially if I needed to study for a test, but it came at a price…I had a headache by the time we got to school. So I considered that an emergency practice.

Mostly I just looked out the window at the fields whizzing by or talked with friends about the events of the day. The bus was where all gossip, rumors, plans, and problems were discussed. The bus was where I learned about the new girl in town, that my neighbor was dating a gang member, and that Billy thought I was “cute”. I thought Billy was a pig.

Thankfully that year was cut short by our move to Oklahoma in the spring. Once again I could walk to school or ride in a car with someone going that way. The only times we rode the bus were for field trips and other group events. I could easily endure those rides.

When I was in college and doing my classroom observations an older teacher told me I should “Learn to drive a bus, and put that extra money into your retirement savings account.” I thanked him for his advice, but I knew there was no way I would ever consider driving one of those big orange beasts!

As a teacher I occasionally rode the bus for field trips. Even though buses have changed somewhat over the years, the basic experience is the same. They are still noisy and smelly. The ride is never smooth. The main activities during the trip are looking out the window or talking. Drivers manage 40-60 students without an assistant. Buses now have cameras, but still don’t have seat belts. No matter how much technology we add, or progress we make in the classroom, I don’t imagine the bus ride to school will change any time soon.