Room for celebration…

When one stops to ponder, though there are constant challenges, there are reasons for celebration on this cusp of the new year. I must continue to see this opportunity because the alternative is not pleasant.

I work hard each day to remain positive. Some days it’s an impossible task. Some days it comes easily. Some days the effort leaves me exhausted. That’s life. I’ve lived with major depression and anxiety since diagnosis in 1982. I’m glad to have been given the strength to navigate the often choppy waters. That’s a celebration.

This time of year is the most challenging for me. Add the shorter days and the often overcast conditions. Some days I’d rather remain under the covers. Long ago I promised myself to do my best to get out of bed, shower and dress in regular clothes every day. Each month may yield just one day I’m unable to do that. Lots of reason to celebrate.

I’ve chosen a mostly private existence during the Pandemic. The prospect of acquiring the virus just frightens the daylights out of me. The additional fact that I oversee my mom’s life allows me a good reason to isolate myself. I would have a hard time if I was responsible for passing it to her (she’s 93). I order groceries and pick them up. My Amazon Prime membership is my best friend. My pod of friends is pretty small. I do attend doctor’s appointments and have been in the hospital at least ten times in the last 18 months. I celebrate the fact I’m here to be able to recount all of these experiences.

Most of all, I’m so thankful to be able to run into former students, whether in person or on social media. I celebrate each one, even those who despised me. Each taught me a lesson. I worked hard to make connections with each. It was never a chore. Though I knew each student would never love the subject of English the way I did/do, I always hoped most took something of note from their classroom experience with me. For whatever it’s worth, I’m so very proud to have taught such a wonderful array of kids and the knowledge they passed to me. They enriched my life immeasurably. And that is a reason to celebrate.

The Alone Girl reminisces…

The Alone Girl was horse crazy. There. It’s out in the open. In fact, as a child she was occupied with books, horses, play, and learning. The Alone Girl received books as gifts for birthdays and Christmases. In between she utilized the public library.

A few books still stand out in her mind. Black Beauty, Misty of Chincoteague and the Illustrated Guide to Pony Care were longtime favorites. There was never the remotest chance of the Alone Girl owning a pony or horse but if it ever happened, she was prepared for its care.

Another horse-influenced memory that remains in the Girl’s mind involves JFK’s funeral. Aside from the Kennedy children’s similar ages to hers, the Girl knew Caroline had her own pony. Horses played a prominent role throughout the funeral. The Girl was mesmerized by them, especially the riderless horse with its rider’s boots reversed in the stirrups.

The Girl would eventually learn more about the tradition while reading through the section of military history and biography at the library. Her endless curiosity was fed by her frequent trips to the library, just a couple of stone’s throws from her home.

The horse craze was somewhat satisfied with trail rides and a couple of summers at camp where one could ride for an extra charge. Used to riding Western, the Alone Girl enjoyed learning to ride English style though did not care for being chastised about her posture which was lousy. But it gave her the opportunity to be aboard a horse, so she made the best of it.

It was a nice dream, but just a dream. “We are such stuff as dreams are made on…” said William Shakespeare in The Tempest. Dreams are wonderful but, while some may come true, it’s likely we will see more of what is true.

While reality may be harsh at times, it takes very little to dive into a book and achieve a dream-like state. One needs to keep things in perspective. The Alone Girl looks forward to reading the books received as Christmas gifts. It’s never too late to dream.

“It’s too bad that all these things/Can only happen in my dreams/Only in dreams/In beautiful dreams”. Roy Orbison

Tightroping into the future…

Earlier today I was doing some chores in the house. A cable news program droned in the background. The far recesses of my mind was registering Covid-related dire predictions, commentary on the state of our government, and then there was a mention of book burning. This struck a chord.

My love of reading began when I was a small child and continues to this day. It allowed me to become an English teacher and share my love of reading with kids. When I was first hired to teach, I inherited the previous teacher’ s schedule. It included a semester-long elective called Science Fiction. Hmmm. I’d taken some sci fi courses, definitely not my favorite genre. That made me more determined to succeed. I developed a survey-type of course featuring different types of sci fi stories. The novel we would read as a class was Fahrenheit 451, by Ray Bradbury, and the kids would read an independently chosen novel.

What’s my point? Bradbury’s iconic novel was set in a future where firemen burned books. The government did not want its citizens to be thinkers of any sort. It is a bleak and grim world. A group of people who value books live in a small colony where each person memorizes a piece of literature and “becomes” that book in order to keep it alive.

This novel grew from a Bradbury short story called “The Pedestrian.” The idea for the story came from a personal experience. Bradbury was out walking one evening. He never had a driver’s license. The police stopped him and questioned him because he was walking. Read the story for the implications of this event.

Science Fiction grew out of the Cold War unrest of the 1950s. I even prepared a Power Point presentation about fallout shelters because students had no clue about how important they became during the 1950s. A great resource that exemplified this topic was a Twilight Zone episode called “The Shelter.” Terrific story and gave us another way to connect the dots.

I hope it doesn’t come to pass during my lifetime that we become the society of Fahrenheit 451. To annihilate all semblance of creative and free thought would render us impotent beings. Keep this in mind. Better yet, sit down and read an enjoyable book.

A fresh start…

For over ten years I maintained a blog called The Quarry’s Child. Due to technological issues beyond my capacity to understand, it became necessary for me to start anew.

New beginnings are a fresh palette for all types of creativity. I’m excited to do something a little different than I have, and I want to showcase some of the art, music, and photography that inspire me.

It will be a little while until the blog is completely set up. Bear with me as I get it up and running. My previous work is still available to view at thequarryschild.com .