And He answered and said unto them, "I tell you that, if these should hold their peace, the stones would immediately cry out."

Saturday, November 26, 2011

Saturday, September 17, 2011

You have the pain of watching

My youngest probably has ADHD. I've said it before, of course. We don't have an official diagnosis but it's all pointing there.

He has or rather had one friend in school. They say that one friend is all you need.

On Friday the high school had a back to school barbeque to raise funds for the Music Boosters. I'm a Music Booster mom so I was up there helping set up, brought my kids to eat, stayed for the concert and helped clean up.

My youngest called his friend to see if he was going to go up there to eat. He called once before we left the house. And once when we got there.

Apparently this kid had another friend over. The other friend told Harrey the youngest that they would not be there and hung up.

My youngest was heartbroken.

At school he's being shunned. The kids that were friendly to him are not anymore. Mostly they are not mean, they just don't want anything to do with him.

At lunch he was being crowded out of the two lunch tables where all his classmates sat. I called the school as this had happened several times. At recess he played kickball and there were kids who cut in line; I think I already blogged this.

I talked to the teacher and I talked to the social worker. The social worker confirmed that there was a problem on the playground and it was indeed the 5th graders. She warned them that there would be consequences to their actions. The next day Harrey sat with a couple of kids who were nice to him, including his friend.

The friend told him to leave him alone on Friday.

This same friend had him over all afternoon on Sunday and they played all afternoon with absolutely no problem.

It wouldn't be a problem except that this is my son's only buddy in his 5th grade class. Thank God, no seriously, thank God that he has two other friends who are younger than him.

On Friday after we came home from the bbq, he went in his room and got into bed. When I went to check on him he was laying down and facing the wall. Perhaps I handled it wrong but I gave him a couple of Boy's Life Magazines to read. I didn't want him to think depressing thoughts, but maybe he needs to. I just don't see how it could be good for a 10 1/2 year old boy to stare at a blank wall.

His confidence is shattered. He is irritable and hard to get along with at home. I know why he is this way and I cannot fix it.

My daughter has shunned her best friend from childhood; she calls her annoying and needy. Perhaps she is. But I understand the pain and loneliness of rejection for myself. And now, as a parent, I have the pain of watching it once again to one of my children.

Thursday, July 28, 2011

Greek Salad Sandwich from Everyday Food

  • 1 cup canned chickpeas, rinsed and drained
  • 2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
  • 2 tablespoons plus 2 teaspoons extra-virgin olive oil
  • 1/4 cup fresh parsley leaves
  • 1/2 small red onion, thinly sliced
  • Coarse salt and ground pepper
  • 3 ounces crumbled feta
  • 8 slices rustic bread or olive bread
  • 1/2 medium cucumber, thinly sliced
  • 1 tomato, thinly sliced

Tuesday, May 24, 2011

Tuesday Ten

1 Went walking with a friend last night. Wonderful conversation and much, much needed.

2 It meant that Bruce was home with the kids so they were happy. It's free for all. LOL Poor Bruce.

3 I don't like the kids playing on video games during the school week. I tolerate the computer but they are only on it 2x a week each.

4 Bruce let them play last night.

5 Do you remember me complaining about being the bad guy all the time?

6 Harrey the youngest took Kiwi for a walk yesterday afternoon--a long walk to our local park.

7 Dear daughter was also at the park with her friends. Harrey brought the dog over to his sister and her friends and the dog was good. She was scared, we think, but she lay down and let her friends pet her.

8 Progress! WooHOO!

Wednesday, February 2, 2011

Sunday Scribblings # 252

Near Brewer Street in London

Her skirt picked up mud and dirt from the wet, cobble street. She did not bother to lift them. The sidewalks were crowded, including the beggar children. She would not give this evening, even though they called out to her,

"Lady. Please. Just a penny, ma'am, so we can eat."

On normal days, even in the summer when the sun shone low in the sky, Helen knew her surroundings. She was familiar who was coming out of the pubs or waiting in their livery wagons or black hansom cabs. There was an older lady who put away her wares into her store. Sometimes the lady bid her good evening. She knew the sounds of the children laughing and crying from a window above. They were comforting, familiar sounds of her walk home to the tenements.

Tonight she heard footsteps behind her.

She noticed them after she left the master's house for the evening. At first Helen thought that her imagination was running away from her. She stopped to cross the street and heard the steps coming closer. Her shoes sounded harsh and clunky on the cobbles so she tried to walk on the balls of her feet. She tripped a couple of times and almost fell.

She ducked into a small sidedoor of a local hat shop. The footsteps stopped. Helen could tell that the person looked around and came down the alley. But the footsteps went back to the walkway softer and softer. Helen pushed back a hair that had floated near her mouth and peeked out both ways. A couple of delivery boys and all was clear.

The gangway led to her street and with a quick left turn, she was almost home. And then she heard them again. Quick and gaining on her.

She crossed the street without looking.

"Hey, watch out, Miss," the cabbie yelled, but kept his horse at a full trot.

Helen passed by two windows. Then a door. Then another two windows, two doors and a gangway. Finally, she found her place. She knocked on the door. The fire was going so her landlady was home and waiting to let her in. The steps were closer, louder.

"Mrs. McMinn, open the door." Helen used her knuckles to knock quickly. She could see the figure, a tall man, dark, his face hidden, as he came towards her.

"Mrs. McMinn, please open the door. It's Helen." She pounded the door with her fist.

"Excuse me." The voice was deep and quiet.

Helen shook as she turned to see him. She clutched the doorknob and leaned back on the large, wooden door.

"I've been following you for several blocks. I didn't think I would catch you." He removed his hat. His hair was a light brown and he ran a hand through it to smooth the tousles. He leaned closer and she saw that his features were hardened and unfriendly.

"You dropped one of your bags, back there, near Brewer Street. I didn't think I would catch you." The man held up her small black purse.

Helen let go of the knob. "I didn't realize it was gone." She slowly took it from him. The light from the fire cast shadows on his angular face; a handsome but stern.

"What was all that noise? Oh, Helen, yes, come in, child. Oh, am I interrupting? I beg your pardon--" Mrs. McMinn's round face smiled as warmly as the fire in her parlor.

"This gentleman brought me my purse, Mrs. McMinn." Helen stood straight and pushed back the loose strand of hair. "Thank you, sir."

"Well now, please come in, won't you and have some tea?" Helen's landlady opened the door. The man seemed to hesitate.

"No, thank you, ma'am. I best be getting back to work near Air Street. It's getting dark and it's not safe." The man tipped his hat and walked away. "Good night."


Tuesday, January 25, 2011

Magpie Tales Mag # 49

Virginia Min
The Great Aunties

I was mad. I was burning up with the very flames of hell mad. I am surprised that I didn't break something by the way I was handling things. Screen doors slammed. Feet stomped up the back stairs but I knew enough to walk quietly in the house. I had had a switch across the back of my legs; it stung and Mama wouldn't let me swim until it was healed after a few days. Well, I wanted a swim.

I helped Mama prepare the plates. She had pickles out and made sandwiches out of the roast chicken from the night before. Maybe she knew that the Aunties were coming and didn't tell us. We didn't have a lot of money but Mama could make a table look like everything was special. I hinted to her that I wanted to go up to the creek but she wasn't listening to me at all. She was so excited and happy, almost as excited as when Daddy had wired us that he found a job.

I was folding the napkins when I heard a knock at the door. I looked up at Mama, who suddenly looked very young and fresh. She ran to the door and the gaggling began.

Oh, Evvy! Good to see you. Minna, honey!
Minna. Why Evvy, how beautiful you look!
Is that Viriginia Min? Look how big she's grown
Little Kenny? Well, he certainly isn't little any more.

And on and on like that. Hugging. Kissing. It was pushing noon in August in St. Louis. The moist heat weighed down a body's skin. Auntie Cora was the youngest and she was a large woman with a round face and magnificent steel gray hair set in a bob; it made her blue eyes sparkle with life. Aunt Zonie was quieter, with dark hair. Then there was my Granny, the oldest; the shortest one with a little square face and an imposing jaw.

"I thought we would sit outside under the tree. It's so sticky in the house." Mama pointed the way through the kitchen out the door. I helped carry two plates of pickles and watermelon rinds. I noticed that Kenny carried one little plate: the butter for the bread. He wasn't clumsy. He could have carried the plate of bread but he made Auntie Zonie carry it.

Mama had set out our little kitchen table in the yard under beautiful honey locus. The little, light green fronds let dappled sunlight through and let the hot, sweaty breeze tease us with a promise of relief.  The white sheets flipped limply on the line. Hurricane force winds could not cool us in the August noon in St. Louis.

I don't remember what they talked about. I ate a pretty finger sandwich and a couple of pickled melons. But when the pink glass pitcher got low, I carried it up the wooden steps, through our wood screen and back out and then did it again as the ladies wiped themselves with their handkerchiefs. Kenny sat and squirmed and slumped in his chair. Well, that's what he got for only bringing out one plate of butter.

I set the glass pitcher on the table and took my place between Auntie Zonie and Granny.

"Kenneth Stevenson, sit down in that chair." Granny leaned forward and dabbed her neck. Kenny was sliding out of his chair next to Mama; his legs and knees were in the grass and his body was draped across the seat.

"Oh, Min, he's just a boy and hot, isn't it, honey?" Auntie Cora giggled as she watched him melt down into the grass, right himself and sit down in the chair with a scowl. "It's such a hot day. I'll bet you'd like to go take a swim in a creek." Auntie hit her arm; although they loved the dusk, a few desperate mosquitos hunted in the heat.

"There's a creek not too far from us. My friends are all there." Kenny's voice had a little catch in it. He could lay on the pity when he tried.

"My friends are there too, Kenny," I growled and sat back in my chair with my arms crossed. The sweat ran down the crook of my arm but I didn't care. Better fold my arms than give a good pinch to my little brother in front of relatives.

"Aw, Evvy. Let the boy go to his friends. Kenny, you've eaten so nice and you've been so quiet. Evvy." Auntie Cora took a long drink of water and dabbed her upper lip.

"Cora, it is his mother's decision, not yours." Granny fixed that jaw of hers and sat ramrod straight.

"For pity's sake, Min, he's a little boy and he should be out running around." Auntie Cora looked away with her nose turned up slightly into the air.

"He can sit still a few minutes with his great aunts." Granny leaned forward and stared a hole into Kenny. "The great aunts that he hasn't seen in good while."

"Look at the poor dear, Min. He was always as cute as--"

"Yes, as a bugs ear. We've heard that before, Cora. The boy can sit."

"But he's so hot--"

"We're all hot."

"It's fine, Mama. Kenny, go on." My Mama stood up and poured out the last of the water. He was gone before the last drop in Auntie Zonie's glass.

"I'm hot, too," I pleaded with the aunties.

"You sit down, Virginia. You're a girl and one day you will be a woman. You will have a nice sit down with us."  Auntie Cora smiled and sat back in her chair.

And then the talk about the old days in the hills of southeastern Missouri. The endless discussions about people and relatives I never knew and would never meet. Births. Deaths. The scandal of a cousin who married her aunt's husband, left him, had a baby and then died of tuberculosis. On and on. Eternity on a hot, summer afternoon.

"Would you be a love and bring your Auntie more water, angel? Thank you." Auntie Cora picked up the pink pitcher and handed it to me. I looked at Mama who smiled so I took it into the house with a sigh.

I let the door slam and put the pitcher on the counter none too gently. The door slammed again and my Auntie Zonie appeared, holding the two plates of pickles.

"I thought I'd bring these in and help you, Virginia. I brought a picture that I wanted to show your granny but I think you'd probably like to see it first." Auntie Zonie had a soft, kindly look just like Mama or maybe Mama had a look like Auntie Zonie. I followed her into our front room. It felt like a hot, stifling oven with no breeze coming through the windows. She set her purse on the dining room table and pulled out an old black and white picture. There were three young women with ice skates hanging over their shoulders. The snow was deep from the looks of it and their clothes were old fashioned.

"This picture was taken in Fredericktown when we were young women. See your granny? She was small but she was so pretty. There's Cora. She was so stylish. See the stripes on her coat?"

"Is that you on the end, Auntie?" I asked as I examined the picture and pulled it close to my nose. Her face was blurry but even then she had that kind, gentle look that Mama had.

"We had a lot of fun that day. It wasn't too long after Min met a handsome young man named Leroy." Her face turned serious for a moment. A hot breeze blew the cotton curtain. Auntie smiled again. "Your grandfather."

"What was he like?" I smiled back at her and pushed my sweaty hair behind my ear.

"Well, it wouldn't be right to hear it from just one person and the quietest one of the girls. Let's go outside and ask my sisters, Virginia." She smoothed back my hair. It felt nice. Familiar. Loving. I've never forgotten that gesture, even though I'm an old woman. How I miss her. But that afternoon I was 9 years old and it was a hot summer day. I wanted to go to swim in the creek with Kenny but Auntie Zonie had just sweetened the pot.

"Are you thirsty, Virginia?" she asked. I nodded. Without a word, we got up and went into the kitchen.


For more creative stories at Sunday Scribblings, please click here.

Friday, January 21, 2011

Friday Freezing Cold here

I am writing this at 8:34am Central Standard Time and I live in Chicago, IL US. It's -1 degree F or -18.33 degrees C. It's cold today but I have seen it colder.

Sunday, January 16, 2011

Sunday Scribblings # 250

Need, just like you.
Vents in the sidewalk are warm;
Sit on them and cover myself and my vent with a blanket.
Blend in the shadows and greys of the
Large walls, the freshly washed windows and the wide alleys.
Every day I see you walk by. Do you see me?


For more creative posts, please click here.

Thursday, January 13, 2011

ResAliens Issue 5

My friend Lyn (short for Lyndon) Perry publishes a really nice e-zine called ResAliens. It's filled with fantasy and science fiction stories that are well done and rated PG. Some are dark, some are creepy and disturbing, but all are well done. It's one of my favorite little gems that I go out of my way to read.

He asked for a plug so here is the link to the newest issue.

Monday, January 3, 2011

Sunday Scribblings # 248 Progress

Under the Canopy of the Queen

"Tell me about our home, Muhktar." Aliya looked up at the queen, the mother tree of the apple forest.

"We will not live in a tent. You will not stoop over a metal tub to clean the dishes or wash the clothes or wash your children."

Alilya giggled, but Muhktar took her hand and kissed it, all the while he stared at the canopy of the forest.

"You will not hang your clothes on a stoop or your rags on a string. No, Aliya." Mukhtar circled around the large trunk and never looked at her. Aliyah looked up and did not know what he saw in the sky.

"We will have a house someday. A real one, like the ones in town. Perhaps we will have make it out of mud bricks like the old ones but one day. Someday. We will have a proper house made out of wood. With steps and wooden floors. They will creak when you walk on them." He stopped and held her in his strong arms. Aliya melted in them and took in his fragrance of earth and dirt and smell of outdoors. His wool coat was beginning to unravel at a seam and she played with the thread. Tomorrow morning she would mend it while she had a chance.

"I will miss you." She felt his head lay on top of hers. "I will remember this moment always."

For several minutes they stood without words. The birds called to each other and landed indecisively on upper branches. They could not make up their minds and flew away; their song, though farther away, lingered with the dappled sun. A cool breeze blew through the summer leaves and joined the bird's chorus. It sounded soft and gentle under the shade of the queen.

"What time will you leave for University?" Aliya tugged at the loose thread on his jacket. The hole was in the shoulder and would be easily mended.

"Tomorrow morning, before midday." Mukhtar tightened his embrace.

"Midday, Mukhtar? It doesn't leave much time. I must mend your jacket right away." Aliya pulled back. They kissed.

"Aliya, I will be wearing a new jacket. My uncle bought me one for my trip. I cannot wear this one to the city." He took her hand and they walked leisurely away from the large tree. "They will already know that I am a farmer from a small village. They will see me as backward. They will--" He stopped and looked down.

"Mukhtar, you will be the smartest one there. And you will return to me and you will put all your ideas into place." Aliyah's round cheeks glowed as she smiled. Mukhtar looked straight ahead even as she kissed him.

"I will give you electricity, out here. We will have the wires come right to the house, Aliyah. And you will have cold and hot running water in your house. For your children." He tripped a little over a small root which stuck out of the ground.

"The shade is nice in the forest. They say that the forest is being cut down and pretty soon it won't be here anymore."

"Nonsense. Look how it goes on and on. This apple forest goes on for miles. How can we use it all up? Aliyah, push those thoughts aside. Dr. Dzangaliev, he is a Russian and an alarmist. What can possibly happen? Besides, we need to grow and to expand. I want you to have wooden floors, Aliyah. I want you to have hot and cold running water. I want you to have electricity. I am going to the university but I will be back to build you that house."

They walked their well worn path under the uplifted arms of many fruited trees. They stopped under a familiar one and took as many apples as they could carry in their pockets. Aliyah spread out her apron to carry some for their parents. Mukhtar polished one on his shirt and took a bite. He stood a little taller and his jaw looked a little harder and straighter.

"Midday. Tomorrow." Aliyah stared at the clearing ahead of them. The heat of the day was looming before them, without shade, without the canopy and away from the queen.

 "We are young, Aliyah. We have the future. We must have progress. The world awaits."

Aliyah leaned back a little to hold the weight of the apples as Mukhtar strode ahead.

For more information about the apple forests of Kazakhstan, click here to visit Orion Magazine.
A little information about the people who live in the area can be found here.
Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...