I Write to Assert My Democratic Rights

Today is the National Day on Writing. In the past, I have celebrated this day with kids by writing 6 Word Memoirs. Today I didn't have anything special planned. Though I thought all day about why I write. I couldn't help but think about it; it's a hash tag (#whyIwrite) that has been popping up on twitter all day. (It should be trending, but it currently is not.)

Then I stopped at my mom's house to pick up The Pill. It's Thursday, so the tiny town newspaper was delivered today and I sat down to read it before I left for home. In it, I read an article that really had my hackles raised. I just had to write a letter to the editor regarding the article. This wasn't the first time I have written a letter to a newspaper, and that made me realize how very thankful I am that I CAN write to voice my opinion. And since the procedure for submitting letters to the editor of this paper are nowhere to be found, I am going to post my letter here. And so, because I have the right and responsibility to voice my opinions is #whyIwrite.

Editor,

Thank goodness we live in a democratic country. Thank goodness we have a say in who represents us in our government. Thank goodness that when we believe that our elected representatives are not listening to our voices, we have a procedure to follow to make our dissent known.

I am disgusted by some of the choices that my elected officials have made recently in the course of their work. I am fed up with the way certain groups of people have been targeted by the Governor and the Republican-led legislature. I have followed the channels allotted to me to voice my opinion: I have emailed and I have called the offices of Governor Snyder, Senator Emmons and Representative Outman on several different occasions. Only one time have I ever had my communication recognized. These people are supposed to be our voice in the government, but they don't seem to want to listen to everyone, rather only the people who are in agreement with them. 

Feeling as though I did not have representation, I took the next step to make my voice heard in the democratic process. I signed the petition to recall Governor Rick Snyder. I would sign a petition to recall Judy Emmons. I would sign a petition to recall Rick Outman. I completely disagree with Rick Outman as quoted in the October 19 edition of Lakeview Area News that “recall elections should be reserved for people who have committed a crime...” Recall elections should absolutely come about when enough citizens come together to call an elected official on the carpet. They need to be held accountable for being the voice of the people they represent.

As a citizen who has signed a recall petition, I also take issue with being characterized by Shirley Pool as being someone who does “not care about the financial ramifications to our county or state...” I am a tax paying citizen. If a recall election comes about, I share that cost. I am part of Ms. Pool's “we.” I would hazard a guess that most solicitors and most signers ARE taxpaying citizens and therefore also a part of Ms. Pool's "we." Ms. Pool may not agree that there should be a recall election, but she should be thankful that we live in a county, state, and nation that allows its citizens avenues to express displeasure when we feel our elected officials are not fulfilling their responsibilities. 

                                                  Sincerely,

                                                  L. Moore

I wish I could link to the original article for you, but it isn't online. You'll just have to find a copy of  Lakeview Area News for yourself.

I'm Really Not Ready

Lately I've been feeling pretty overwhelmed, emotional, and maybe even a tad depressed. Here's why:

Ready for the dance...

It is G's freshman year. She's going to be 15 years old. And I just don't have an inkling of how that happened. It just seems like yesterday that she was dancing around the house in her sweet little girl dresses, singing Oops I Did It Again, and pestering me to change the focus of the video camera to her and not The Pill: "Tape me now mom, tape me...is it my turned to be taped?"

I almost cry when I see the competent athlete she is on the volleyball court. I almost cried yesterday as I watched her ride on the freshman float rather than enjoy the Homecoming parade by my side. I almost cried at how beautiful she was as she was getting ready for her first Homecoming dance. And I remember how I used to wait so anxiously for the firsts: when would she say her first word? take her first step? read her first word?

Now I want the firsts to stop. I would go back to those baby, toddler, and little girl days in a heartbeat. Not because I don't absolutely adore the young woman she's becoming, but just because I am not ready for her to become her yet.

Capturing Fleeting Moments

Last weekend I had to sit through hours of softball in the heat. My daughter was on the Pony League All-Star team, I have to admit, to my chagrin. I rarely look forward to events that cause me to miss a weekend on the houseboat. And as this weekend was forecast to be the hottest and most humid of the summer, I was really dreading a softball tournament. But after a little facebook complaining, an old friend reminded me that my girls wouldn't be in the house forever and I should make the most of the time I have with them. So I adjusted my attitude and the tournament really was pretty fun.

This week, Wednesday was my day off from my summer job of teaching graduate classes at Central Michigan University. Normally when I have a day off I spend it getting a little caught up on laundry and housework. But I've been thinking a lot about how little time I have left with my girls. Genevieve will be starting high school this fall. When I think about how fast the first 14 years of her life have gone by, I know these next 4 years are just going to be a flash in the pan. So I decided yesterday we just needed a girls-day-out.

We got a late start and spent quite a bit of time trying to decide what to do. We decided on a trip to Ionia. It has a quaint downtown and Lili and I had spent some time discovering its charms during Spring break when Genevieve was doing a job shadow at the court house there.

Some road construction caused us to go off the beaten path. We LOVE Tunnel Roads--you know, those narrow roads so crowded by trees that the trees make an shadowy emerald tunnel to drive through. We drove down plenty of them and marveled in the beauty of Michigan fields in full foliage: corn that is now about chest high, wheat fields that make you want to sing "amber waves of grain", and potatoes with tiny white blossoms bobbing on the breeze. We even saw some workers in a field of onions, their large-brimmed sun hats made us feel like we could be driving through Vietnam rice paddies!

As we were weaving our way through the dirt roads, we looked at the names. We passed one called Bogart Road, and I said, "Humphrey Road," and continued driving. About two minutes later, Genevieve started laughing and saying, "Humphrey Bogart Road, that's priceless!" It always cracks me up when the girls get my jokes but only after they have time to crystallize in their brains! We also discovered, on our drive through the countryside, the quaint villages of Lyons and Muir and discovered they were full of Victorian era homes.

Once we arrived in Ionia, our first stop was Eldon's Cafe. We ate outside under a colorful umbrella and enjoyed chatting with the townspeople who walked by. Eldon's Cafe has a fantastic hot dog menu: 20 different ways to order a dog! And they are yummy! I recommend the Deputy Dog: a hot dog smothered in pulled pork, BBQ sauce, mustard, pickles, and onions.

As we sat out on the sidewalk waiting for lunch, Genevieve said, "If I am ever in prison, I'll sharpen my toothbrush into a shank." Where does she come up with this stuff?

After lunch it was on to the Favorite Finds Consignment shop. This shop has great prices--even better than Goodwill, which is another store we love to frequent. We ended up with some new school clothes for the girls and they had fun trying on other funky clothes.

I hate to think that I'll have to buy her a dress like this for real soon!

Lili is cute in just about anything, but crazy high heels are her favorite!

Genevieve couldn't resist trying on some "gangsta" pants.

We did a little more window shopping around town. I couldn't resist, in spite of their rolling eyes, taking a picture of the girls in this side alley. It reminded me so much of the foliage filled alleys and streets of Aruba--minus the heat and humidity today!

It was such a fun day with my girls. At the end of this week, I will be done with CMU for the summer. Although Genevieve will have volleyball practice twice a week, that gives us plenty of days to discover other out-of-the-way places and most importantly to make some great memories with the fleeting moments of childhood they have left.

Happy Father's Day

Nine years ago, for my Dad's 50th birthday, I wrote him a poem and had it mounted with some pictures of us. The sentiments I wrote then haven't changed, and since the framed poem was the only copy still in existence, I thought I'd share it here to tell my dad Happy Father's Day.

Daddy's Girl
If you are a newborn baby
and your eighteen year old father
rushes home from school
wanting nothing more than to
hold your tiny delicateness...
                     You must be a daddy's girl.


If you are a toddler
and your best idea of fun
is to lie, butt in the air, across
a strong sturdy lap
and watch Sesame Street...
                     You must be a daddy's girl.


If you are a small child 
and you dress up 
for a date to the movies
with the most handsome 
man on the planet...
                   You must be a daddy's girl.


If you are an adolescent
sick in the hospital
with a Trivial Pursuit buddy
at your bedside every day
(even though he never wins)
and with tears in your eyes 
at night when he's gone...
                     You must be a daddy's girl.


If you are a college freshman 
who call crying almost hysterically
for a ride home
at 2 in the morning
from a house you can't
give directions to
and someone is there
faster than is possible...
                   You must be a daddy's girl.


If you are a college sophomore
who calls home late at night
just to hear that certain voice
because you saw a sad movie
about a dad who died...
                     You must be a daddy's girl.


If you are a young bride 
walked down the aisle
by your hero
who also happens to be 
your personal photographer...
                    You must be a daddy's girl.

If you are a new mom 
whose precious baby daughter
prefers the rocking of Papa
to her own mother...
                     You must be a daddy's girl
                     Who has just taken 
                     A backseat to Papa's girl.


If you are a second time mom
with your father's calming 
presence next to you
in the waiting room
as your baby undergoes
three hours of surgery...
                     You must be a daddy's girl.


If you have a man 
that buys you Mother's Day gifts
and he isn't your husband...
                    You must be a daddy's girl.


If you have a man that will
give everything to you
do anything for you
ask nothing from you
                     You must be the luckiest daddy's girl in the world.
                     You must be the daughter of the world's best father.
                     And you must thank heaven for him every day.
                     I do.


Happy Father's Day, daddy, with much love from your Daddy's Girl.

CONFORM!

Yesterday, Lili was "spoken to" by the counselor about her style of dress. She was very upset that she was asked to dress "normal" for the rest of the school year. The counselor then emailed me about the conversation. She says Lili's outfits have become a distraction. This annoys me, because it shouldn't be Lili's responsibility to make sure other kids are not distracted. It also bothers me because Lili's fashion sense is nothing new, so I'm not sure why it is an issue now.

Here is Lili this winter. She does not dress crazy in order to get attention at school. This was taken at Papa's house while she was getting ready to go play in the snow.

 This is an outfit Lili wore shortly after Christmas. Santa put the skirt in her stocking, so how bad can it be?

 This is another outfit she wore in the winter. The leggings were a Christmas present.

 This outfit was worn in the Spring:

 Another Springtime outfit:

 The studio where Lili dances had tutus for sale for a fundraiser. I bought her two of them and she was over-the-moon excited to wear them. And what this girl can do with just two tutus!

 The gun didn't go to school as part of this outfit. But parts of this one were her dance recital costumes. I paid enough for the darn things, I figure she might as well get some use out of them!

 She didn't wear these shoes when she wore this outfit to school. And she has on shorts under the tutu. But this one apparently garnered her some attention from boys (according to the counselor...Lili said she didn't notice any extra attention.)

 And this is the outfit she was wearing yesterday when the counselor told her she was distracting other students.

What you have not seen in these photos is her poofed hair, the tiara she loves to wear, and the make-up and glitter. That is because I am not really fond of her wearing make-up so she waits until she's at school to put it on. And she has a pretty heavy hand. And she LOVES glitter. Lots and lots of glitter. But Lili is a straight-A student. She is responsible and respectful. She is helpful and caring. So I choose not to make a big deal of the fact that she likes to layer glitter on her face.

Now, I can see that if you stretch the dress code you could say the tiara is a hat. And if that is the case, she shouldn't wear it. But I do not see how anything else she has worn violates the dress code. The counselor said in her email that she spoke to Lili at the request of teachers. If the teachers thought she was violating dress code, they should have just told her to change. I think the problem is that they just don't like what she's wearing.

So basically, my daughter's school is disrespecting her right to individuality. They are asking her to conform. Too much of public education is about sameness. I am so proud of Lili for being quirky and unique and confident enough to show it. I am regretting that in my return email to the counselor I agreed that Lili wold CONFORM for the rest of the year. I am not happy about crushing my child's spirit, creativity and individuality. It makes me sad that the school would ask me to do that. I am sad that the school obviously doesn't appreciate my child as an individual. And I don't know what will happen next year. But I will not let them change my child just to suit their idea of what is acceptable.

What is a Mom Worth?

If you add up all the jobs a mom does, how much should she be paid? According to ABC World News Tonight, she's worth just over $61,000. But that is only for the very basic things that mom does: childcare, driving, cooking, cleaning, party planning, and a couple other smaller jobs. But for my mom, these tasks are only the beginning.

My mom is also a seamstress. She sews clothing for me, for my girls, for their dolls. And if I need anything mended, of course, I take it to her. My mom is also an interior designer. The only project I have done in my house without her help was painting my living room. And believe me, you can tell she wasn't there. She's painted a moon mural, a castle wall, a frog pond, and stripes...lots of stripes. She's hung wall paper and sewed curtains and pillows and bedding.

My mom has been a laundress. When I was first married and had a tiny washer and electric drier that took forever to dry a load, I would take my laundry for the week to mom on Friday. She'd have it ready when I got out of work. And later, when my appliances were big enough but my water was terribly rusty, she'd wash my whites weekly so they didn't become oranges.

My mom has been a nurse. Beyond the normal jobs of taking temps and dispensing medicines, when I was a kid, she'd soak my sunburns in ice water and vinegar. Her hands were so soft. And after I grew up, she came and stayed with me after each of the girls were born, being the one to get up in the night and bring them to me in my exhausted state. She also took care of me after two serious health issues: a car accident and a surgery with complications, putting up with not only me moving back home for short stays but also bringing the girls with me. She had to cook and clean for us and change bandages and help me shower.

My mom is not a 9 to 5 mom. She's an on-call, on-demand mom. She's there to answer questions and give advice and encouragement and comfort. She has a way of listening and remembering, thereby getting me the best presents for birthdays and Christmases. $61,000? I don't think so. My mom is truly the most gifted, generous, wonderful mom. You could pay her $61 million, and though I'm sure she'd accept it, it still wouldn't be enough. Even words aren't enough for my mom. While I can tell you all the things my mom has done for me, the power of what it has meant to me cannot be explained in words.

Happy Mother's Day, Mom. I love you.

Teachers Make All the Difference

This week is Teacher Appreciation Week and even though I am a teacher (thanks, self!) or maybe because I am a teacher, I want to take some time to recognize some of the teachers who had profound effects on my life. Of course my first teachers were my parents. My mother taught me so many lessons, I wouldn't even dream of beginning to enumerate them. In fact, given that Mother's Day is this Saturday, I will reserve a post just for her. Ditto for Father's Day, also on the horizon. (geez, is this year 2011 speeding by for everyone else?!)

When I was a young adolescent, a teenager, and then a young woman, if you were looking for me at family gatherings, your best bet would be to find the smallest children and I would be among them. I grasped every chance I had to hold babies. Truthfully, that included asking complete strangers in the grocery store if I could hold their babies. And people were either more trusting then, or I just had an air about me, because 9 times out of 10, they would let me. But it was at one of these family reunions that my future was cast. My Great Great Aunt Genevieve, a wonderfully generous and beautiful woman who had taught kindergarten for over 30 years in the town where my father grew up, told my mother and grandmother, as they all watched me entertain the extended family youngsters, that I was going to make a great teacher one day. I don't know about the great part, but it shows the power of language, praise, and recognition, that 30 years later I am a teacher and I remember that she said that about me.

When I was in the third grade, Mrs. Feutz was my teacher. I always thought she looked like an angel: blond wispy hair, a gentle touch, and a voice that lulled you with comfort. I had a hard time in third grade learning how to tell time on an analog clock. I'm not sure digital clocks even existed at the time so it was probably pretty important that I learn this skill. And because it is usually pretty darn easy for me to learn new concepts, the fact that I was struggling with this caused me to have a break-down right in my third grade classroom. Mrs. Feutz sent me to the hall and of course I was sure this was the end of my school career. I must have thought she was going to reprimand my behavior--that's what teachers do, right? (After all, I did skip the story of my kindergarten teacher--when asked what I wanted to be in kindergarten, I said, "A teacher, so I can be the one to yell.") But I wasn't scared. Somehow I knew even being in trouble by Mrs. Feutz wasn't going to be a bad thing. And of course, Mrs. Feutz was that kind of teacher who understood that sometimes kids get frustrated and can't control their reactions. I don't remember what she said to me that day. I do know that she taught me how to read that darn clock!

I would love to share all of the stories of teachers who meant so much to me, but nobody would want to read for that long. And if they did want to, I'd make it into a book and maybe make some real cash off it. But let me give you some highlights:
Mrs. Newberry who told me after I was grown that she had expected me to be a journalist because of my writing abilities. I still have the poetry anthology I made in her 6th grade classroom.
Miss Frost, the first year creative writing teacher who helped me and my best friend Laura navigate the rough waters of best-friendship in 8th grade.
Mr. Adams, my high school English teacher. I can still recall verbatim several comments he left on some of my writings, though the papers are long gone.
Mrs. Lange, my high school Spanish teacher. I didn't stick with Spanish long after college, but she's the reason I pursued a minor in the subject.

And teachers need teachers too. So lastly, I'd like to tell you about Norma. The first teacher I ever called by a first name, even though she's a doctor (I'd wear that title right out if I had it!) Norma was my mentor and teacher during graduate school when I was working on my Masters degree in Middle Level Education. If I am a great teacher today, I owe much of it to her. I am a kinder, more patient, more humane teacher because of her. I had a class with her during the time when those WWJD (What Would Jesus Do) bracelets were so popular, and as a class we decided that it would be much more appropriate to have WWND bracelets. We measured everything about being a good teacher on the What Would Norma Do scale. Norma had so much faith in me that I am now assisting her and teaching in the same program she taught to me so well.

So on this Teacher Appreciation Week, thank you to all you teachers who open your hearts and share your gifts to create successful, responsible, and happy adults. May you one day find the riches you so deserve right now.