This morning we started off by finishing reading an historical fiction book, “Witness” by Karen Hesse and discussing racism & the KKK in the 1920s, which is the main topic of the book. Our discussion drifted into the Civil Rights movement of the 60s, which brought us to watching Martin Luther King Jr’s “I Have A Dream” speech on youtube. Coincidentally, that speech was given August 28, 1963 - 47 years ago tomorrow.

Earlier in the morning Chris O’Donnell had posted a link to this editorial cartoon on his facebook page and I couldn’t help but see the tie-in. I showed the kids and asked them what they thought it meant and what they thought of it, and showed them a Venn diagram I had posted a link to on facebook earlier this week. Both related to the current theme of hatred toward Muslims in America. All three could see the connection of everything we had covered in just a short time, and that prejudice is still alive and well in the United States of America.

We concluded that prejudice and hatred are an all too common theme in our history, which brought us to one of my favorite quotes:

Those that fail to learn from history are doomed to repeat it. - Winston Churchill.

You’d think that was the end, right? The lesson was hammered home when an old classmate of mine (all through Catholic school, mind you) made a comment on a facebook “discussion” about letting “them” know they’re not welcome here (sorry folks, no link there. avert your eyes from the spectacle).

I couldn’t have written a better lesson plan that rolled all into one connected day if I had tried.

What have you learned today?

You can find the template to Where I’m From here. It looked a lot easier than I found it to be. I wanted to focus on the positive aspects of my childhood instead of going where I ought not to go. My mood has been pretty well sucky lately so that’s where the hard part came in, trying to make my brain find the happy memories. It’s not exactly like I wanted it but I can only procrastinate for so long before I blow something off completely so I figured I’d leave it as is. I’m glad I finally finished it, it brings back good memories and gives me warm fuzzies to re-read it. I know it won’t give everyone else the pictures it creates in my mind, but that’s okay, it’s more for me than for anyone else. It’s a fun little exercise, I recommend trying it for yourself.

But I still don’t know whether to check that dang “Hispanic” box.

WHERE I’M FROM 

I am from cheap canvas tennis shoes, from coconut smelling suntan lotion and hot summer days.

I am from the yellow house on the hill, which my mom has called home since before I was born.

I am from the mulberry bush outside my gram’s house, and the hours spent eating more berries than ever made it into her house. From big oak shade trees that kept our house cool in the summer and gave us leaves to crunch through in the fall. From the enormous garden that we spent hours in picking fresh vegetables.

I am from big Sunday dinners at grandma and grandpa’s house with aunts, uncles, and cousins, and oyster stuffing and smoked ham, and stubbornness, from Dorothy and Magdaleno and Edith.

I am from loud, large extended families and kindness.

From “eat all your vegetables” and the Golden Rule.

I am from Sunday morning Mass, where we sat in the front pew like a good Catholic family, or skipped out in favor of rolls and doughnuts from the little bakery down the road.

I’m from Des Moines and Mexico and Ireland and Germany, from fried chicken at picnics and hot sausage sandwiches on Vienna bread and a seemingly endless supply of home canned green beans.

From the kidnapped teen bride of my great-grandfather, from the Smiths that stepped off the Mormon trail and made their home in Knoxville, Iowa and from the grandfather that I don’t really remember, except that one Christmas Eve he gave me and my cousin toy sewing machines.

I am from my parents’ enormous photo collections taken with my dad’s fancy camera. I am from my gram’s little cedar chest, which holds my cherished treasures of the past.

I just had to point out a few funny/sad items from an Altoona “magazine” we get with upcoming events, cutsie little stories, etc. I’ve been hanging onto them for a while and ran across them today. I am not putting the name of said publication to protect the stupid.

Item #1
There’s an article in there about one of the new teachers that will be starting this fall. Here’s the quote from the article:

When Braun was growing up she wanted to be a nurse, but found the profession required “too much math.”

I found that to be quite sad that she would then think, “hmm, what profession will not require so much math?” As a nurse, I don’t even think we use much math. What, convert an ounce to cc? Convert pounds to kg? Oh noes! Really. It’s not that hard.

Item #2
This is in every issue and it reeks of irony.

Wednesday, July 21, 8 pm - Alcoholics Anonymous meeting, Old Town, use parking lot behind the bar.

Nuff said on that one.

I’ve had a lot going on lately. All my stress, all my worries, all my sadness, usually come out as anger. And I’ve been very angry lately. It’s been easy to put it on some external sources of stress and frustration, like Homeschool tumbling.

They frustrate me. I like to know well in advance what to expect. The girls’ dance studio puts out picture, rehearsal, and recital information 5-6 weeks in advance. All costs are laid out up-front in August. I realize I am dealing with a very organized studio, but I like that. I don’t like extra practices that I’m told about the night before, leaving me no time to work out a different schedule. I don’t like finding out a week before pictures that the girls are supposed to have their hair in two French braids, especially when one had her hair cut shorter just a few weeks before, and it’s too short to braid. I don’t like when their practices run long and I have somewhere to be.

Why is it that different from when Allie has had extra practices for competition team? And while I was soaking, relaxing, and thinking, it came to me: I really don’t want to be at homeschool tumbling.

There are several reasons for it. I’ve known for a while that I was uncomfortable with the group. Long before I stopped going to church, long before my husband decided he didn’t believe in God, long before I decided that most likely I will spend my entire life wondering - not knowing - if there is a God, I felt like I was a fair person and tried to include everyone. This group, despite that it is a Christian group, is not like that.

Right now I think the biggest reason I don’t want to be there is that I resent being left there by my friend, Mitzi. It’s not her fault, but damn I am angry about it! Her oldest son, Blake, was diagnosed with Ewing’s Sarcoma in February. Understandably, they are too busy to continue tumbling. Every day at tumbling reminds me of why Mitzi isn’t there with me for our usual laughs, talks, and generally good times. I miss the way things used to be. And I know they will never be the same.

Blake is the kind of person all moms dream of their daughters growing up and marrying. His kind heart shines through, he’s a hard worker, and I rarely saw him without a smile before he got sick. His future is uncertain, and it’s just not fair. I hate to see him and his family have to go through all this.

Savannah, Blake’s sister and Jessica’s best friend, posted this earlier today on her facebook page:

Happiness is not controlled by your circumstances. Happiness is a choice. Choose happiness.

Thanks, Savannah, for being so wise beyond your years, you are absolutely right. I love your whole family, you guys are awesome people, and I miss seeing you every week.

And now that you all know how much of a selfish control freak I am, hopefully I am done detoxing my emotions and can get on with following Savannah’s advice.

The basic premise of her argument is: there is both good and evil in everything and everyone. Here’s a little sample:

But then, my country is the most generous and compassionate nation on Earth; it is also the only country that has ever deployed nuclear weapons of mass destruction.

My government is founded upon a singular appreciation of personal liberty; some of those founders owned slaves.

My family was known for its neighborliness and its work ethic; its patriarch was a serial child molester.

OK, but your country, your government, and your family never claimed to have a direct line to God and have an infallible leader. The issue with the Catholic Church goes beyond a few rogue priests doing their own evil deeds. It goes all the way up into the hierarchy of the church; to the man who is now supposedly infallible in matters of faith. Apparently though he was pretty fallible when he knowingly covered up for priests who sexually abused children and even allowed the abuse to continue by not removing those priests from their duties.

If you want to be Catholic, fine. But don’t try to justify it by arguing a human standard for morality, when the Church is an institution that puts itself out there as a moral authority, and bases their morality on a divine standard.

Maybe the reason that all of their arguments are so weak is because the teabaggers really are just a bunch of people who feel threatened by the ways our country is changing. A black man was elected president. More states are starting to allow same-sex marriage. The Hispanic population is rapidly expanding. They can’t come right out with their racism or homophobia, so healthcare has become a convenient proxy. It represents a changing America and has become a target for their anger and resentment.

But I think that’s only part of the story. Conservativism in America has changed too. Since I was old enough to even think about politics I’ve never been a conservative. But as I’ve matured, I’ve come to agree with some of the more traditional conservative principles, such as individual liberty and fiscal responsibility. These things went out the window under George W’s reign when the government started spying on US citizens and spending boatloads of cash on wars that (at least initially) did more to promote terrorism than to fight it. The Republican party doesn’t seem to care about either of these things anymore. They don’t have any real direction other than to be anti-change and anti-Democrat. They are the anti- party; they have no principles to stand on, so they unite around obstructionism.

The grassroots “tea party” movement is full of people who either don’t have any ability to think for themselves or simply choose not to. Because chanting some lame catch-phrase or repeating talking points from intellectual giants like Sarah Palin or Glenn Beck is much easier and more emotionally satisfying than actually reading a bill or doing some fact checking. It’s easier to bitch about socialized medicine than to actually do a little reading to discover what Socialism actually is, and to discover that the healthcare bill (now a law) is not it. It’s easy to complain about your tax money buying healthcare for children of working-class families, but where were their complaints when Bush was spending even more money on regime-change and bailing out Wall Street?

While they were playing I decided to run to Target, my favorite discount chain store to pick up some new pj’s for Don, since he is going in for a sleep study tonight. Honestly, he does have pajamas that he usually wears - he is too paranoid that the house will catch on fire and he won’t have time to put on a pair of pants before diving out the window totally nekkid for all the old nosy neighbors to see - but they’re embarrassingly ragged, or “comfy” as he prefers to say. Hopefully the sleep study will go well and I won’t just be stuck rolling him side to side all night long for the next 50 years or until I go deaf and can’t hear him snore.

Anyway, back to Target. It is my favorite because it’s not Wal Mart, and they have great clearance deals. How can you not love a good clearance? Of course the flannel pjs were on clearance, as well as many, many, many other things. I was giddy from the sight of all of those CLEARANCE signs.

I went in for a $10 pair of flannel pants, and came out with a cartload of clothes and $200 poorer (shh, don’t tell Don, he doesn’t part well with his money). They were all great deals and (mostly) things we needed. And as a bonus, I didn’t forget the pj’s I went in for.

The sun is shining, the birds are singing, I’m happily skipping along behind my shopping cart full of bargains and no one is even trying to run me over in the parking lot. What a joyous day! I load the van, put the cart in the cart corral like a good little shopper, and head for home. Fifteen minutes later I pull my dirty little van in the driveway and begin to gather things to take in the house - the library bag, some stray wrappers, my bargains, a few stray barrettes, my purse… My purse.

I run into the house, throw a few Target bags of clothing at the kids and screech, “I think I left my purse in the caaaaart!” or something like that. I dash back out to the van to grab the other bags and look one more time. Still no purse. Inside, Allie answers the phone - it’s Target, they have my purse.

Let me tell you, having to pick up your forgotten purse makes you feel like a total imbecile. The guy at the customer service desk said, “You’re not the first person to do this, that’s why we have this big log book.” And I had to put my real name, address, phone number, and signature in the log book, acknowledging that I was indeed the dumbass that forgot their purse. But I do have kind of an excuse, lame as it is. My purse is RED. The cart is RED. It blends right in. Just like the HyVee grocery carts.

Yep, it was the second time I had driven off while my purse was still nestled safely in the seat of the cart, only last time I realized it sooner and was able to retrieve it from the cart corral. Stupid red purse. It will be cut into a million tiny pieces and put in the garbage, as soon as I am not too embarrassed to go back to Target to buy a new purse. I don’t have another one right now, the dog barfed in my other one, so that went in the garbage too. I don’t have very good luck with purses lately.

The blog topic for January is “Best”, whatever that means. I guess for today that word means to me putting my best effort into the things I start this year, even if I should have started them sooner, and not worrying about starting at the “right time”. I can say I should have done this or that back when ____, but it’s not going to help me out right now. The important thing is to do it now. I have a horrible procrastinative streak in me, and the only way to get rid of it is to tell that little bugger to shut the hell up and just do whatever it is I need to get done.

And today, the second day of the new year, is the day to start.

I can just see some guy sitting there thinking “Hmm, Spot has seemed so down since his neutering, maybe he needs some artificial nads to help him feel manly again.”

I’m not sure why I haven’t been blogging, whether it’s that I’ve grown bored with it, have nothing new to say, have a hard time putting what I have to say into words, or just don’t have the need to write what we are doing for all the world to see. It’s not like I haven’t had time. But the fact is, our blog is something I would be sad to see go.

So just maybe I’ll make it back here a little sooner.