My Take on a Lose-Lose Situation

I’m a retired teacher. Other than my family, teaching occupied the majority of my thoughts and energy from 1970 through 2001. Looking at the school landscape today is painful for me, in several different directions. Although I am no longer a teacher, it is hurtful to read so much negative news about a profession I loved.

I have some pet peeves:

Lack of respect for the teaching profession.

Lack of discipline and the respect for authority within schools.

Teachers/administrators who only want to draw a paycheck.

Administrations who hire and then continue to employ ineffective teachers. All teachers, unfortunately, share the negative feedback.

Extreme emphasis on standardized test scores to the loss of respect for the individual learner AND the individual teacher.

Curriculum and educational policy dictated and generated by people and special interest groups who aren’t in the classroom and never were.

The loss of strong family.

“Us” and “Them” attitudes.

I could go on and on and on. The educational climate is … scary. It often overshadows the good, the hopeful, and the great things that happen in schools.

This week, cell phone videos from a SC classroom went viral. A school resource officer called to a math classroom to “deal with” a female student who refused to give up her phone (reports vary on the reason for calling him) used force to remove her from her desk and from the room. *

Let me be clear. I don’t condone the officer’s actions under the circumstances shown in the video. By that, I mean the student, apparently, did not have weapons, was not threatening to shoot herself or anyone else and put no other classmate in jeopardy.

But. BUT.

There are some things that we should keep in mind as “we” rush to judge. There will be two (or more) sides to this story, because there are always more sides than we know from a distance. There will be extenuating circumstances, with pre-existing biases and previous personal experiences thrown in, right or wrong. For example, on October 30, several hundred* students staged a walk-out in support of the resource officer, demanding his reinstatement. The officer has support. Some students, at least, believe his actions were justified. Why? We may never know, but they believe they do.

 Currently, there are school resource officers in most school systems. They are there, in part, because teachers and administrators believe they need assistance with discipline problems occurring on school grounds during the school day. With mounting violence on today’s campuses, the need for a school resource officer is real. That’s true, and that’s frightening.  

*It appears that the math teacher issued an ultimatum about the student’s cell phone; reports say she was texting in class. When the teacher couldn’t enforce the ultimatum, he or she called on the resource officer to remove the student. The student resisted. The officer forcibly evicted the student. Briefly, he did what he was there for, what he was called on to do. I’m not defending his methods. There’s a fine line between “enough” and “too much.” In view of the teacher’s request for the student to leave, what was his job? Pulling her (resisting) from the desk was necessary, Throwing her was not. That’s my opinion, of course, and I don’t expect complete agreement.

It’s a slippery slope. The resource officer is a trained policeman. But the school campus is not “the streets,” and its students are not adults. The school wants its authority respected. The public wants discipline in the schools so that learning takes place. The public wants resource officers to keep students and teachers safe. The public wants to keep it tidy.

It’s not.

The student faces resisting arrest charges and the officer has, at least, lost his job. Students in the classroom took videos of the incident and posted them online with their cellphones (by the way, I wonder if those students face any consequences? Is it okay to take video and make it public, but not okay to text? Probably not a fair and balanced question. I don’t know the school’s cell phone policy, but I wonder). The SC school gets unwanted publicity. Schools, in general, get more negative publicity. The “R” question raises its ugly head (the officer is white, the student is black). There’s another black mark for police officers (as with teachers, good officers share negative feedback), another sad look at schools and students, another opportunity to promote racial stereotyping, more business for lawyers, and more negative fodder for the news channels to feed upon.

It’s a Lose-Lose scenario. Do I have answers? No, only more questions.

What if teachers could just teach? What if students just wanted to learn? What if officers were still just visitors to schools on Career Day? What if there was respect for school authority? What if there were no doubts about that authority?

What if there had been no school shootings?

What if? What if?

But it is what it is. The climate of fear and mistrust co-exists. Mistakes will, no doubt, be made. And we –the individuals concerned, the schools, police officers, the public – have to deal with the fallout.

The worse thing we can do is sling blame and quit trying.

*Details of the incident based upon published accounts.

                                        

 Lessons I Learned from building BIG the Ostrich

              Courtney's new book The Lies About Truth launches on November 3, 2015. 

 

This story, her "sophomore" book, was a traumatic author experience for Courtney, involving blood, sweat and many tears. A pivotal plot line in the story involves a  blue stuffed toy ostrich (ugly!). The main character names him BIG. So naturally, Court and I thought she should have a visual to accompany her on school visits after the book comes out! 

The search began.

Court was excited when Carla found this picture online. Here was Big. She said it was her perfect vision from the book. But it was a dog toy, only a few inches tall. Made in China.

 

So the search continued. Courtney ordered a stuffed ostrich from a toy company. It came in its own crate. It was adorable. But it wasn't blue. And it wasn't big. 

It wasn't BIG.

Finally, came the inevitable conclusion - this was last year - that I would have to make one. It shouldn't be too hard. I mean, look at that ugly blue thing above. Simple, right?! 

Riiiight.

I really did look EVERYWHERE for patterns. The only patterns I found were for crochet. I can't crochet well enough to alter patterns for the size we wanted.

I looked at pictures of real ostriches.

You have to admit they are so ugly, they're cute. Just like Big. But  that didn't help me much with a pattern.

I came to the conclusion that I'd just have to gut it out and do it myself (Little Red Hen-ish). For close to a year, I thought about it, looked for inspiration online and thought about it some more. I went to countless fabric shops and found several pieces of "fuzzy animal" material that would work. But they weren't in blue. Or not the right color of blue. I couldn't seem to get serious about the pattern until I found the material. Looking online, I eventually checked Jo-Ann's Fabrics and found what I needed. In July, on a trip through Nashville, we drove to Cool Springs where one is located, and I bought the material. YAY!

"Channel Your Brave" Time

I used newspaper to draw - after some starts and stops - a pattern of sorts. I cut it out of scrap material and even basted it together. I sort of sang (in my head) "I think she's got it; By George, I think she's got it." 

That was so premature and way too overly optimistic. Such is the stuff of dreamers.

To say the least.

After I basted together the scrap material, I was still afraid to cut out the "fuzzy animal" material. I took the day off.

The next day I cut out the fuzzy stuff. Sort of. My scissors didn't want to cut a straight line through the stuff. (I had conveniently forgotten how much trouble the cutter at the fabric store had had when cutting it off the bolt). That day - that WHOLE day - I worked on the head. And made the tail, the topknot and the legs. And I thought Wow, this is going really well. I only have the body to make tomorrow, and it will be finished!

Hahaha. Premature celebration.

The body. Oh, man. Here's where my inability to visualize 3-D pieces kicked my tail. I will spare you my pain, but let's just say that I cut, re-cut, re-sewed, adjusted, altered, re-sewed, changed my idea of how it would look ... mucho times. All day. At three o'clock I got out of my pjs and ate lunch. 

That fuzzy fabric changed several things. It would not DO what I needed it to do. Thank the Good Lord for felt. And Velcro. 

At 6:30, I put on the finishing touches and texted Court this picture:

 

And this one:

 

He is BIG.

Court's reaction made all the effort worth while! Let me say that again: HER reaction made me forget (almost) the sewing drama. She loved him.

Big is finished! 

*crawls off to the couch with wine*

Top Ten LESSONS LEARNED

1.  Just because one can draw doesn’t mean one developed the skill set (ever) to look at a one dimensional picture and envision how to make a 3-D replica. In fabric. In this century.
2.  Find a pattern. DO NOT EVEN THINK about making a stuffed animal where none exists.
3. Blue stuffed toy ostriches are – apparently - NOT in high demand. 
4. “Fuzzy Animal” material in UK blue (as per the author’s vision in The Lies About Truth) is darn near impossible to find.
5. Do not try to cut out “fuzzy animal” material. EVER. It is EVIL. (and it frays like Satan - that's Satan, not satin).
6. Do not try to sew up “fuzzy animal” material. (see above)
7. The truths about revision for an author are also true for the sewer when making a stuffed ostrich without a pattern … envision, re-vision, rework, edit, re-vision, rework. Repeat. And Repeat.
8. No matter how a homemade pattern APPEARS to work on the practice fabric, it will not actually look  the same after it is stuffed. (See #6.)
9. I repeat: SEE #2.
10. In the aftermath of extreme sewing trauma (I now suffer from PTSD - that is post tramatic sewing disorder - there is a ridiculous sense of accomplishment (i.e. this list), but that in no way means one should even think about repeating the process with any subsequent book characters that Courtney C. Stevens dreams up!

        If you want to read more about Big (you do!) then pre-order Courtney's book at Parnassus Books in Nashville, or pre-order from Barnes & Noble or Amazon. Or buy it when it comes out on November 3rd this year! 

Reviews:

"As she did in her beloved debut, Faking Normal, Courtney Stevens does a spectacular job of chronicling a smart seventeen-year-old girl's discovery of her own inner resources to overcome the aftermath of a tragic car accident involving her five best friends.  First she must forgive her friends, then she must forgive herself.  No one writes better about resilience and ‘channeling your brave’ than Stevens does." --Cammie McGovern, author of Say What You Will

In Courtney Stevens’ The Lies About Truth, Courtney writes beautiful and flawed characters that contain raw emotions. The Lies About Truth touched my soul.-- Katie McGarry, bestselling author of Pushing the Limits (.)

“This realistic YA novel explores the weight of the past, the value of the truth, and the meaning and process of forgiveness, which teen readers will identify with. A great addition to any YA collection” (School Library Journal)

At the levels of sentence, character, story, and soul, Courtney C. Stevens’s sophomore effort, The Lies About Truth, is staggeringly good. Sadie Kingston is struggling to heal after a tragic accident claimed her boyfriend’s life and left her irreparably scarred. With help from some unexpected places, she’s finally beginning to put the pieces of her life—and her heart—back together. This one is quietly wonderful.

–Stephanie Appell, Parnassus Books

"Stevens keeps the focus on Sadie's turbulent emotions in this heartfelt examination of the consequences of disfigurement." (Kirkus Reviews)

Snow 2015

Ode to Snow?

“Snow – Snow- Snow- I want to wash my hands, my face and hair in SNOW …”

Not so much.

With all due respect to Rosemary, Bing, Vera and Danny, and Irving Berlin, I’m over Snow.

At least for this season.

On February 16, I was in Tennessee, visiting my mother. We had two inches of sleet  there.

And that was bad enough, but back home in Kentucky, more than ten inches of snow fell at our house, followed by three more inches a few days later. And COLD. Both Tennessee and Kentucky had some overnight subzero temps, and it stayed continuously below freezing during the day with little or no sun. The snow lingered. It thawed a tiny little bit during the day IF the sun shone, but refroze every night. By the time I came home over a week later, the shiniest, slickest coating of thick ice (that I’ve ever seen) topped the still deep snow. And though our awesome Ballard County road department plowed and cleared (mostly) the main roads, our secondary roads and driveways and parking lots remained a problem. It looked and felt like an ice skating rink! Treacherous!

And it lingered. How many times have I heard this old saying? “If the snow hangs around, it’s waiting around for another snow storm.”

 

Look at the icy sheen on the snow!

 

Monster icicles!

Well, there’s a reason that sayings become adages.

On March 3^rd, we drove to Nashville for the day, leaving behind clear roads, but yards still covered in snow.

 

 Heavy rains set in on our drive home, and by the next morning, most of our snow had disappeared. 

In this process, I learned a new phrase: Ice Damming. The heavy snow piled on our upstairs deck had nowhere to go when the rains came, except inside. We currently have a big water stain on our living room ceiling. But it, at least, is paint-able. A friend of ours was not so fortunate. Her roof collapsed and water came pouring into her house, causing thousands of dollars’ in damage. The national news posted similar events all over the storm affected country.

Here, the joke became … if there’s still snow on the ground the weekend we Spring Forward for DST, at least we’ll be able to see the snow after six p.m.!

A couple days later with the snow gone and the rain finally ending, it felt like Winter MIGHT be drawing to a close. Come on SPRING!

But no.

On Monday, March 9 (MARCH, for heaven’s sake), Kentucky caught another Winter Storm. Overnight, it dumped a foot of snow on my house! A FOOT OF SNOW. IN MARCH. (Some communities got 16 inches, some got 25 inches!). As a retired teacher, I empathize with the school systems who must cope with make up days, testing schedules, and children who have missed nearly two weeks of school!

 

We haven’t had this much snow in several years. At least not in one storm. It was a wet snow, unlike the first one, and good snowman-making material. We never make one, but I enjoyed all the amazing pictures posted on FB. My favorite was the re-staging - ‘Snowman style’ - of raising the flag at Iwo Jima! Folks never fail to amaze me with their creativity. 

 (FB)

We shoveled the deck this time (Yep, we learned our lesson!).  And this snow was followed by sun and slightly warmer temps. It didn’t last nearly as long. 

We've had more snow than we're used to in Kentucky, but we are mighty thankful we don't live in Boston. Much of New England had one big snowstorm after another - a true Snow-pocalypse - with nearly five or six feet of the white stuff on the ground at a time. The cyber pictures were interesting! 

 (FB)

 (FB)

In the interval between the end of the snow and some drying up of the yard, I cleaned and straightened my screened-in porch (can NOT wait). I scouted the yard for emerging bulbs (and found them) and picked up fallen limbs from the storm. Definite A-N-T-I-C-I-P-A-T-I-O-N of warmer weather to come! Our local weatherman blogger says we’re not out of the woods yet; there’s more cold to come. BUT I think I see a spring light at the end of the winter tunnel!

Come on, Mother Nature! We’re SO ready for SPRING!

What a Year!

2014.
Christmas Eve.

Drinking my early morning coffee, just before beginning the last minute rush to get ready, pack the car and do the road trip toward Family ...

It's been a year of change, but then, aren't they all. And Blessings. Many blessings.

My mom lost her voice during one of those freaky illnesses where it looked like one thing and turned out to be something else. Two surgeries, 40 fewer lbs., and some therapy later, she can make words louder than a whisper. But as the doctor said, "Don't think about getting on stage at the Opry." Thankful that she has remained healthy through out. On the upside - shopping and a new wardrobe! Ron's mom spent a week in the hospital, a traumatic experience for a sweet lady who loves sleeping in her own bed at night. Thankful that she made the best of it, that it turned out as well as it could have, and that she's back home again, none the worse for the experience.

Our son and his family FINALLY got out of the FLOOD House ... the courts are slow to move, but the case was settled at long last, and they were able to move into a beautiful new home far away from creeks and low places. Thankful for this fine son of ours and his family.

Faking Normal. THE book. Debut! Dreams do come true. Courtney C. Stevens launched at Parnassus Books in Nashville on February 25th and Barnes & Noble in Bowling Green and the Grille in Mt. Pleasant. And people CAME and they bought. It's been a great year for Courtney ... learning how to sell herself and her book, book tours, school visits and writing workshops, library visits, book festivals, panels, writing retreats. In the midst she "channeled her brave" and wrote a second book; and sold more future books and taught her collegiate classes and learned how to BE. An exciting year. A difficult year. But in the end, she forged a new future for herself. Thankful.

Multiple trips to the beach ... it's our Happy Place. Just us. Immediate family. Extended family. Beach friends. Thankful for our love of a place and for the beauty and peace it brings to all of us.

Our beach is where Courtney set Book Two ... The Lies About Truth. It launches in October of 2015. Thankful for this girl-child of ours and her talent and kindness and wisdom. Thankful for the role she allows me to share in her dreams.

Our moms. We've both lost our dads in past years, the strong backbones of our childhoods. But we have our beautiful moms. There are health challenges for each, but they remain faithful and loving, always making the best of whatever IS. Thankful.

The two of us. The TWO of us! Forty-four years and we're like the Energizer Bunny ... still going! The road to aging can be a bumpy one, but we persevere.  There's a hand to hold and love to share, and we're sticking together, no matter what comes. Thankful. Very thankful.

Friends. This year has brought a re-connection with old friends and the addition of new ones, and I'm grateful. Facebook has its little evils, but it also allows for connections, and for that I'm thankful. Also for the continued blessing of the friends who surround us daily; the ones who have our backs through the good times and the bad times. Thankful.

Church, also a year of change and growth within our close-knit church family. What would we do without our support group! Thankful!

And there's change with this holiday season, too. For the first time, we're going to my sister's for Christmas Day. It's either been at Mom's or at our house for the family for all of my life. Circumstances - the fact that our son has to work on Christmas Day (fireman) and that Mom is 92 - dictate a change. So this year, I'm not cooking or preparing the house for multiple guests and multiple days of meals. I shopped early, wrapped gifts early, decorated the house and sent Christmas cards and enjoyed watching the hustle and bustle from afar. The least stressful Christmas in recent memory. Thankful!

Today we will celebrate communion with our daughter at her church. We'll visit with family and add our gifts beneath a tree that isn't ours. Tonight we'll sleep in a bed that isn't our own. And in the morning, Christmas Day, we'll arise to share a meal and open presents and visit in a home,that belongs to other beloved family members. We'll share the day with extended family, including beautiful children who are full of wide-eyed Christmas excitement. And we'll be grateful and thankful for Jesus' birth and the many, many ways 2014 blessed our family. We'll put away whatever sad thoughts we had about this past year - its disappointments and failures and struggles - and we'll begin to embrace the new. We'll "channel our brave" and look forward with added strength to the start of another year with family and friends.

Thankful.

First SNOW!

On Sunday evening, November 16, 2014, it started snowing. It was late, but Facebook exploded with posts about where it was snowing locally and how much was coming down. I stood at the window and watched through the trees where the security light made the flakes visible.

Everyone was in awe.

Because we don't live in the northwest or the New England states where an early snow is fairly common. We live in far Western Kentucky. We don't even see measurable snow every single winter - December, January or February - much less before Thanksgiving.

We knew it was coming. At least ... the weather experts said it was. But as we're all aware, they've been wrong before! Sometimes it feels as if the forecasters get it right about as many times as the folks who predict it using Woolly Worms or tree rings (locally, Dick Frymire used his Rooster named Jack). I remember many times as a teacher when forecasters were "certain" we'd get snow; I admit it, Snow Days were pretty exciting for me then. Unfortunately, the disappointment when the snow didn't come was greater than the sum of all the excitement and hype about the mere possibility! And we all remember at least one time when snow came as a big surprise even to the experts. It didn't even give us time to run out and get milk, bread and toilet paper! So, now days, I always take the forecast with a grain of salt (while secretly hoping that it WILL snow!)

This year the weathermen explained again about the Polar Vortex and how it works and why. They expounded on how unusual it was to reach so far south. But the predictions of our snowfall varied with as many different news sources that were available. All those weather computer models mean different things to the weather prophets, so by late afternoon on Sunday our snow predictions were anywhere from a dusting to five inches. As I went to bed, I wondered if the dusting we already had would dissipate overnight.

It happened while we slept, mostly unseen, so it felt magical to wake up on Monday morning to 3 1/2 inches (I measured!) on the ground.

There's just something about the first snow that harkens back to childhood snow days and going  sledding down the hill with friends.  I grew up on the best hill in our small town. Our house was in the middle block  where the hill nearly flattened out, but the upper portion of the street was steep. With the proper ice and snow cover, a sledder could go all the way to my house and even further. Kids and adults flocked to our street when it snowed. Thankfully, the street was impassible to cars.It was always a cold, cold struggle to tramp back up the street after a dreamlike-over-too-soon journey down, but the moment we reached the top, all that huffing and puffing was worth it; and down we'd go again!  Good times!

There aren't any sledding hills where I live in Western Kentucky, not even small slopes. I remember pulling my children on a sled in the yard when they were little and wishing they could experience the heart-stopping rides of my childhood snow days.

I love snow! Particularly, when there's nowhere I have to go. But these days I'm content to watch it snow and to stay toasty warm indoors!

Sunrise, Sunset ~2014

I'm enjoying my annual fall month at the beach with Mom. There are many things I love about my visit to the Gulf Coast, but one of them is re-uniting with the other "re-peaters." We come every year at the same time. It's usually the only time we see each other face-to-face, but friendships forged over years of these "once a year" visits are delightful. Today, many of us keep up with each other through Facebook, email and Christmas cards and letters. I loved how this year's group asked all about Courtney's book, remembering that it was launched between last fall and this fall. They had read it and loved it (so gratifying for Courtney's mom!) and even reviewed it for magazines. Loved introducing the book to more friends during this year's visit. So thankful for interested friends, especially those who understand as moms what an exciting adventure Faking Normal has been for me!

Mom, in her 92nd year, enjoys the beach as much as ever!

Another great joy is my daily, early morning walk. Some days I walk on the beach and enjoy the Gulf breeze, the warm temps even at six a.m. and the cool sand between my toes. I love finding "treasures," as my friend, Margo, calls them. Unique shells, pieces of driftwood, starfish, sand dollars. I have quite a collection. Sometimes, I add "memory treasures" to my collection - the friendly fisherman, Bernie, who comes early to the beach and exchanges Good Mornings with me, the herons who carefully watch over his shoulder for bait scraps, the occasional sea turtles, playful dolphins and more - even a scary shark exposed by the curling waves. Other days, I walk through the quaint bay neighborhood on the opposite side of the street. These pastel colored houses have become familiar "friends" over the years; I enjoy seeing the seasonal changes and home improvement projects among the dwellings; and rejoice when no recent hurricane forces repair and rebuilding. Two particular things come to mind.

The Dome house. In 2004, an angry hurricane named Ivan hit the island; we were privileged to arrive two weeks later. The destruction in property damage was horrendous. An unusual, white stucco, one-story house shaped like a dome did not fare well. It, among other less memorable architecture, was eventually torn down. Coming to the condo several times a year has allowed us to watch the rebuilding progress after the destructive storm. Today, there are still a few lots that are empty, but the blue tarps are gone and the island looks back to normal. Except for the Dome house. We have watched it's very slow progress each year. In 2014, it is still not finished. The owner decided to rebuild the exact same house, except for one major difference. Now the original dome sits on the second floor! The outside is complete, but there are still tools and ladders visible through the large upstairs windows as "finishing" work remains. This house deserves the title of Longest Time to Rebuild a Home! or possibly, Owned by Most Patient Man Ever. But one day we'll return, and the forbearing owner (who is doing much of the work himself) will have a light in the window!

The rock collector. One house I love to walk by features a collection of painted rocks on its curb. The rocks are all sizes (think an Irish potato) and are painted to portray an event in the life of the artist. Some are obviously painted by children, some by adults that are more skillfully rendered, but all represent sweet memories: births and birthdays, anniversaries, great accomplishments and other happy days. One year, as I was slowly walking by - reading the rock faces - the owner of the home came out. I learned that her eight grandchildren visit her each year at various times, and that this is their family tradition. During each visit, they celebrate by adding new rocks to the collection. What a wonderful idea! That year I started a painted rock collection for my daughter and son-in-law, giving them the first rock for their family, and they have kept it up. I search for special rocks to paint anytime I'm outdoors. Friends bring me rocks from their travels! This year, the owner added a new twist to her rock collection. She obviously knows it is a great attraction for the early morning walkers. There are small rocks painted with a letter of the alphabet,and walkers are invited to use the rocks to create a short message! What fun! I have enjoyed seeing the "message" change, and I am pondering what message I want to leave before we go back home!

Unique creatures. Each year, it seems, I learn of some new creature. From garbage lid-sized jellyfish to black and white jumping sting rays, to Satan's Purse pods (sting ray babies), to unusual shells (Penn). This year it was the cannonball jellyfish. The pictures were in the newspaper, but were taken locally. Incredible!

This shows a dolphin tossing the cannonball jellyfish as if it were a beach ball!

Among my greatest joys during my time at the beach are the beautiful sunrises and sunsets on the Gulf. Owning an iPhone means never having to say you didn't have a camera with you. I snap pictures nearly every day. Other, more skillful, photographers will achieve greater quality photos, but I rarely miss the opportunity to record a memory! I'm not alone. Though I meet fewer early risers, many gather on the sand at sunset to get a photo. I'm always struck by the different location of the sun over sand or waves between our spring, summer and fall visits.

Sunrise on Okaloosa 2014

My faithful, early-morning companion!

Sunset on Okaloosa 2014

I love the sunlight reflected on the water.

I can't take credit for these, but they are also my views.

 Through the dune grass.

A zoom view of the pier.

Our 2014 visit is now at its midway point. I am looking forward to a visit from Ron (!) and Courtney this week. Courtney wrote much of Faking Normal sitting on a beach chair outside our condo. Her second book, The Lies About Truth, which comes out in the fall of 2015, is actually set right here on Okaloosa Island! 

More to come! I'll add to this post in the coming days.

The Tribe

This weekend I enjoyed thinking back over all the experiences we've shared since Courtney began her writing career. I've witnessed interaction between many authors who are at far different places on the path to publication: those who are just beginning to put words on paper to shape a story, those whose thought of attracting an agent seems an impossible dream, those with agents but no success with submissions, those who are in the two-year, seemingly forever process of preparing their book for print, debut authors facing their first signing events and tours, those who make the decision to self-publish, successful mid-list authors, those who have phenomenal success right out of the gate, and authors who have become household names due to an established and successful career with many books, honors and royalties behind them. They come in all shapes, sizes and personalities.

The publishing industry has evolved over the years in many ways, but it has changed drastically with the advent of social media. Twitter, Instagram, Tumblr and Facebook have practically made obsolete the image of the author as a loner who sits for long hours hunched over a thick, yellow legal pad or typewriter (or laptop) at a desk in a remote room all by himself. Not that writers don't do this at all - they have to buckle down and put words to paper - but it is no longer just an isolated process that engages them in a terminally lonely place away from fandom and other writers. 

As a child and even as an avid adult reader, I never dreamed of a time when I'd one day meet a favorite author of mine. Authors were not my heroes (they should be) because it never occurred to me to wonder about the people who put the magic in stories. Yet they allowed me to become the character in the book, they let me live between the pages and experience what I'd never know in reality, which was so important to me. Books and story were as necessary to me as breathing, yet I never met an author and never saw one (of my favorites) interviewed on TV or featured in magazines. In my childhood, there was no such thing as author school visits or writing camps for young writers where authors came to put dreams into the head of young aspiring writers.  And there certainly was no internet to facilitate access.

When it did happen, it was rare and felt like a miracle. One of our friends credits her inspiration to succeed as a writer to a telephone conversation - the result of winning a grade school writing contest - with her favorite author. What an amazing experience for that time (it wasn't THAT long ago as our author friend is still a young woman). What a marvelous thing for her teacher to arrange (in fact, I can't imagine how she accomplished it). We, the general public reader, had no access to information about authors. The best we could do was send a fan letter to the publisher and keep our fingers crossed that it might reach the author. A reply was much more iffy. It hardly seemed worth the effort.

Today, it is more common, though none-the-less special. Many schools take advantage of literacy grants and provide students with author appearances, both personal and through Skype. Book festivals abound, and they are filled with authors who make themselves available for face-to-face conversations with readers. This past year I saw firsthand the excitement of a very young reader who got to meet the author of her favorite book series at a book festival; it was spine-tingling. Now, social media makes it simple to reach an author. I loved it when the grandson received a Twitter answer from an author to a question about the book he was reading; it was "cool," he said. I've seen many Faking Normal fans reach out to Courtney on Facebook and Twitter. She cherishes their responses to her words. She soaks up their appreciation and uses it to refuel her confidence and to refresh her excitement at being allowed to live her dream. 

We can now match a face, a name, a family, and possibly a day-to-day routine to our favorite authors. We value their random observations. We get to "know" them the way we used to think we knew actors and actresses on TV as we saw their characters unfold week after week. 

Authors are no longer invisible.

I see at least one difference when comparing writing to other artistic industries such as music and drama. In the writing world, a successful author - no matter at what stage in the publishing process- does not view himself as diminished or threatened because of another author's success. There seems no need for a cut-throat attitude, for arrogance and condescension and back-stabbing among writers. They know they must cherish their talent and share it on all levels and spread it around in order to grow as authors. Writers lean on their writer friends, those who are or have or will go through what they are going through at a given time. And they understand how hard it is. Strong, loyal friendships spring from the true sense of purpose and unity they share.

It does, as they say, take a village.

Authors call this The Tribe. 

And it is a marvelous thing.  I witnessed an example of sacrifice and unselfish giving between writing professionals last week; it made my heart full of gratitude for such caring friends. Authors share the joy when one of them gets that dream agent. They rejoice in that book deal, that award, that honor, and the recognition that comes to other writer friends. They post loads of congratulatory Tweets when one of them arrives on the NYT Best Seller list.They weep with authors who experience the frustrations of the revision cave or writer's block or when rejection rears its ugly head. They become cheerleaders,
encouragers, plot-fixers, and hand-holders as needed. And this is just among authors who are friends through the wide reaches of the internet. Among close, personal author friends, it is even more special. Though I am not a writer, I count it a privilege to see and to be a vicarious part of The Tribe through Courtney and her author friends.

Human nature being what it is, there are a few exceptions. I become aware of rare examples of this, as others do, through social media. Books are an art, and art is subjective. As such, books appeal differently to readers who automatically bring their own images, experiences and preconceived notions to the story. That is as it should be. But the author's words are the baby he has conceived and protected and nurtured and watched grow. The book is part of him, and it is painful to see it criticized, whether kindly or harshly. Unfortunately, some people (in any industry) exercise little control over a desire to spew seat-of-the-pants reactions, observations and/or defensive retaliations over social media. The very advantage of being accessible to so many then becomes the disadvantage when wiser heads do not prevail; the result is not pretty. Writers and publishing professionals would be wise to remember that the publishing world is small, and memories are long. And we should all - no matter the circumstance or profession - remember that the Tweets, Posts, Comments and photos never totally disappear, even when deleted, and could come back to haunt us. 

The next time you are in a book place - be it library, chain, discount, second-hand or Indie - take a moment to appreciate the authors who make such magical places possible. And remember to be thankful for that amazing sense of community that they call The Tribe.

It is All the Feels, as book lovers say. 

Little League Baseball

The Little League World Series.

It's that time again ... late summer. With twelve and thirteen year old kids playing in the "big" little league at South Williamsport, PA, The Little League World Series. It's something I'd like to attend some year myself. And once again our region is represented by the boys from South Nashville. I was so excited to hear that another "local" team would get to experience the excitement after last year's team won the American bracket and only lost to the Asian winner in the final game.

This year's team did not fare as well, but their run was exciting. They won in pool play but lost their first two games in the double elimination tournament. Both were exciting games for different reasons.

In the first game, a thirteen year old girl - one of only two in the series this year - was the pitcher who shut out the Tennessee boys at 4-0. She brought speeds of 70 miles an hour, and no one could hit her. The news media calls her a "Phenom."

Her name is Mo'ne Davis, and she pitches for the Taney Dragons, the Mid-Atlantic champions. She brings new meaning to "play like a girl." At 5 foot-4 and 105 pounds, Mo'ne has a wicked fastball and a curve ball that is amazing. She gets a lot of publicity and probably some teasing and laughter. The latter disappears once she walks to the mound and winds up.

"Don't let anybody stop you from doing what you like. Just keep dreaming and go for it," Mo'ne says.
She sounds like a great kid. Perhaps we'll see her in the Majors in a few years. Congratulations to Mo'ne, who also was featured on the cover of Sports Illustrated, another first for girls in sports.

South Nashville's last game was more exciting. The momentum see-sawed back and forth, and so did the score. A two-run homer gave Nashville a 6-5 lead with two out in the top of the sixth. Add to that a second home run by the son of friends to our Chattanooga cousins. I was so excited. Surely they would hold that lead through the remaining bottom of the sixth and win. But it wasn't to be. The other team put boys on the bases so that a walk-off line drive to center decided the game. Nashville lost 8-7. It was an admirable effort.

The outstanding good sportsmanship is one thing that impresses me every year. The coaches often wear mics - we can hear their rallying remarks, their encouragement, their explanation of what has to be done - and the players' every nuance is on camera for all to see. They show us how competitive sportsmen should act and how baseball should be. They make us "proud."

Thanks to all the coaches, all the parents, all the kids and the fans who do their best to entertain us for this short season every year. You let those of us whose children have grown up remember what the excitement was all about. You let us relive the joy one more time.

And we are thankful.

***Update. Mo'ne's team was defeated by the Jackie Robinson team who became the American winners (as South Nashville did in 2013). They were defeated by the team from South Korea to win the ultimate title of Little League World Champion. Congratulations to all!

A List of Stuff I Don't Appreciate

This is a very trivial list; repeating the items won't change the world; it won't even change my world. These grievances rolled off my tongue in no particular order. If you think I stepped on your toes, don't worry ... It was only a random chance; I don't even know who you are!

Heights. Speed.
*Yep, I'm afraid I have The Fear Factor gene, and it grows in me. (yes, this includes roller coasters and crowded interstates).

Traveling
*Big city traffic.
*Cars that weave in and out on the interstate and cut into the path of other cars who must then brake in order to avoid an accident.
*Road rage (Practice some patience, you).
*Driving on the interstate in a heavy downpour (can you say hydroplane).
*Being blinded by the rain and steam rolling off big trucks as they pass during a heavy downpour.
*Being stuck between two semis (claustrophobic-ally speaking).
*The sign that says Roadwork Ahead or the appearance of construction cones that narrow three lanes down to one and cause a massive, time-consuming, stop-and-go event. (Particularly, when there are time constraints. Extra particularly, if I have to "go." Particularly when you see no work that indicates a need for one lane).
*Concrete barriers on the interstate that eliminate the inner shoulder by the median (it's that claustrophobia thing again).

Shopping and Eating Out
*Sale signs that are misleading to the customer (putting a 60% Off Sign on a table or stand where only a few selected items are on sale or where the placement of a sign is deceptive. (You only learn this when you stood in line at check-out for ten minutes (or more) under the mistaken idea that you can afford your choices).
*Rude service employees - the ones who act impatient or condescending or unkind to other employees or to customers.
*Stores who routinely hire and work less staff than they need (Where is that one clerk when you're ready to check out, not to mention during holidays. Walmart, anyone?)
*Employees who carry on non-work-related conversations with other employees while they are serving you. (I don't really want to hear who your ex-boyfriend is dating now).
*Employees who carry on work-related conversations with each other - while serving you - to trash their employers and/or the store policies or rules (TMI-I don't need to know which employees didn't do their job last shift).
*Adults who scream at their kids in public and make a scene (Even if children are doing something wrong, their behavior should be dealt with privately and quietly).
*Adults who yell hateful and hurtful things at their kids in public, things that tear down a child's sense of worth. (If parents verbally abuse their kids in public, I shudder to think what they say to them at home).
*Adults who "threaten" their children for wrong behavior over and over by making rash statements they have no intention of carrying out or can't carry out ("If you don't stop that we're leaving right now ... " and then never leave. "If you don't quit I'm not taking you to dinner ..." yet they do. "I'm not buying you that toy if you don't stop ... " and half an hour later you pass them with the toy in their basket).
*Adults who are so loud that their voices carry to your booth or table in restaurants (I don't want to know what your husband said last night).
*Adults who use profanity in public, particularly in front of their children. (Especially in front of my children!)
*Parents who claim their child has never told a lie (Seriously?! What's wrong with your child? All children make things up, either intentionally or un-intentionally).
*Parents who claim their child would never do that! (Ha! They probably already have!)
*Parents who make excuses for their child's wrong-doing and blame someone else or the circumstances (The 'devil' made him do it, right?).
*Parents who continually allow their small children to run around in a restaurant or place of business, compromising the safety of other people and/or merchandise (Our family rule when shopping was to clasp our hands behind our backs!)
*Parents who expect others to supervise their children while they have a grand time.
*Parents who act affronted when another adult stops their children from running around in a restaurant or place of business (What's your problem, Person? MY child is doing no harm).

Church
*Churches that welcome only people "like us."
*Churches that pretend to welcome people who are not "like" them, but don't want to deal with issues that arise when those people come.
*Churches that care more about their image than their ministry.
*Churches (and people) that don't separate the sin from the sinner (We ALL sin in some big or small way - some sins are just less private than others).
*Churches that don't change to meet needs (And I'm not talking about changing to become more worldly).
*Church go-ers who care more about their pride and/or feelings than the ministry.
*Church go-ers who must receive praise for all they do and get their feelings hurt if they are accidentally over-looked when the credits roll. (Well, humph, I deserve more recognition than they do!)
*Church go-ers who refuse to compromise when their own pet project doesn't find approval, so they withdraw all support ("I'll just take my toys (i.e. money) for what the majority choose and go home. Not talking heresy here; just plain old, sinful "I-want-my-way crap, and also, my favorite color for the carpet).
*Church go-ers who are so opinionated (about everything) that they can't fathom the possibility of being wrong (about anything).
*Church go-ers who refuse to change, who refuse to forgive or forget the transgressions of others - and act accordingly. (Yeah, that's a Christian attitude. I surely don't want to be held accountable for something I did or said twenty years ago; I really hope I've grown a little in that time and learned something from my mistakes)
*Church go-ers who start a sentence with, "I shouldn't say this, BUT ... "
*Church go-ers who start a sentence with, "Well, I heard that they ... "
*Church go-ers who complain about the preacher, no matter who he is and no matter what he does ... he can never measure up to their standards (Picky, picky, picky).
*Church go-ers who think they must hold the preacher (and/or his family) to a higher set of standards than they have for themselves or other members (The pastoral family already lives in a fishbowl, people. Don't make it harder for them)
*Church go-ers and preachers who overlook issues or behavior or unkindness because they don't want to "rock the boat;" or they're afraid to "upset" or create a problem with a long-standing member (especially if the member tithes in a mighty way).
*Church go-ers who gripe about the habits of everyone else's children ... but theirs can do or did no wrong (they're children, people. None of them are perfect little angels).
*Church go-ers who gripe about the habits of everyone else's children ... but never correct them when they see them doing something wrong (it's a church family ... family watches after Family. Family cares. Family has your back.)
*Church go-ers - alternately - who are furious when you do correct their children (they're kids ... how else will they learn?) Because parents can not be everywhere at once.
*Church go-ers who assume a "holier than thou" attitude.


That's All, Folks. For now.
(I'm afraid this list might not be comprehensive, but I feel lighter for having unburdened myself!)



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Milestone

Yesterday was my 65th birthday - July 14, 2014. I consider it an "aging" milestone for a variety of reasons.

1. Sixty-five sounds a LOT older to me than sixty-four. It feels as if it should be a milestone.
Just sayin'.
But then, I've never bothered about my age. I turned thirty, forty, fifty and sixty without depression or anxiety (I've told my youngest "child" that it bothered me more when SHE turned thirty and when my oldest turned forty than any of my own birthdays). And so, my sixty-fifth birthday, though it represents a GREAT age, will come and go without causing me to lose sleep!

2. Sixty-five is a good time to stop and take inventory. Being realistic, I have more years behind me than I do ahead of me. I feel very blessed when I look around. My husband and my family (and grand kids, have I mentioned my grandson and granddaughter yet? :-), my home, my church, my friends. I need to step up my praises and thank Him more!

3. Sixty-five is older than my granny was when she died. One day all was well, she was with us; the next day she wasn't. I was in the sixth grade, and her death - the first family loss for me - was a life changer for our family. Being sixty-five reminds me that every day is a gift (the present) and should not be defined by complaints - petty or otherwise - or on the I Wants or the I Have Nots, and definitely not on Worrying about things I can't change. What can I do, what can I be in this sixty-fifth year to make a difference?

4. Sixty-five means Medicare. Oh, me. Don't let me get started on All The Feels about this and other government programs.
We've been fortunate; first, as teachers and then, as retired teachers, to have an excellent health care insurance plan. Affordable and extensive. So a few months before my 65th birthday, I began getting all the messages about how my plan was about to change. Wake-up call! Do I understand it all? Hardly, but since there was no choice - our insurance company hands us over to the government, like it or not - I had to do the paper work and comply. Part A, Part B, Part D: they're swirling around in my head even as I type (IS there a Part C and if not, why not?)! It has yet to be fully tested - hopefully, it won't need to be, and I'll stay healthy, BUT I've got that card!

5. Sixty-five is only FIVE short (the way they fly by these days) years from turning seventy ...

My conclusion?

I'm very blessed.
AND I NEED TO GET TO WORK ON THAT BUCKET LIST!

Rant alert: Entitlement

Rant Alert! Proceed with CAUTION.

Have you heard this before?
"What is this world coming to? (followed by a complaint). Or If there's one thing wrong with people, it's (you fill in the blank)."

I hear similar statements from friends, on Facebook, Twitter and on the news. To varying degrees, what I hear falls somewhere on my personal list of Things I Don't Like. Sometimes I can see both sides of a particular complaint. Sometimes I "see" it but am not as passionately opposed as the person who voiced it. But maybe I don't agree at all. Nearly everyone has a pet peeve agenda, and I don't expect to agree with everyone, nor do I expect everyone to share all of mine.

Having said that, here is one I feel strongly about. If there's one thing wrong with people and our country, it is our ridiculous sense of entitlement.

This is no new rant of mine, so what sparked this particular one?

I read a Letter to the Editor in our local newspaper Monday morning that astonished me. Infuriated me actually. Those reactions are the inspiration for this blog post. Let me recap the letter.

Elderly travelers passing through our city, the mid-point of their destination, were stopped and given a $25 ticket due to a seat belt violation. Based on what the letter writer called a "decision" by the city policeman (to give them a ticket instead of a warning) these tourists will no longer make a stopover here, thus depriving the city of "their money." The letter writer acknowledged that her husband was wrong not to buckle his seat belt, but a warning would have done "just as much good."

Now, I know no one wants a ticket. No one likes getting a ticket even when they know they broke a law (speeding, anyone?). That's a given. But seriously? First, she infers that the policeman made a "decision" - all on his own judgement, apparently - to give them a ticket. Targeted THEM. FLEECED them of $25 just to INCONVENIENCE them. Because what, after all, does a seat belt law mean? (It's for others, right?) And second, they ran home to Missouri and asked their state trooper son to agree with them. Shame on him that he did (or at least, that's what she wrote. I find it hard to believe that a state trooper would actually agree).

This is wrong on so many levels.

It's like the old "if you don't play the way I want, I'll take my toys and go home" mentality.  That may have worked for children in the sandbox, but that doesn't mean it's okay or right for adults. We're supposed to have gained some maturity and learned some values in the interval between the sandbox and the adult world.  But the prevailing sense of entitlement we've developed (we're probably all guilty of it to some degree) gets in the way.

I can do anything I want, even if it hurts or affects others, because it's what I want.
I'm entitled to my own opinion ...
It's a free country, so I deserve ....
It's the other guy's fault (he did it first).
It's a stupid law, anyway.
Everyone else does it (so that makes it okay, right?)
The government should pay for it (as long as they don't raise my taxes).
It's not fair ...

There's a reason the word selfish begins with self!

We feel we are entitled to whatever it is that we want - that we deserve our wants - regardless of how that might affect other individuals, the group as a whole, or the community where we live. We see this attitude in all aspects of life, both public and private. Entitlement is the attitude behind racial prejudice and other kinds of minority biases. It's one cause of the current "rape culture" so unfortunately prevalent in the news headlines. It is the reason for bullying in our schools and the workforce.  It's the foundation for politicians who misuse their power and position to push their own agenda, for evangelists who just preach a "name it-claim it" style of gospel, for parents who believe their child is the only one in the classroom and can do no wrong, and for husbands and wives who demonstrate little commitment to the marriage (do you know the definition of the word marriage? It's a BLEND, folks, a compromise). This growing sense of entitlement has induced a generation or more of kids and adults who have not learned to take responsibility for their own actions (we all make mistakes), and it is a vicious cycle. As our personal sense of responsibility ebbs, our personal sense of entitlement grows ... and eventually becomes a corporate problem.

Entitlement is the reason ridiculous law suits clog up court agendas. A woman spilled her hot coffee, it burned her, and she sued. The woman felt entitled. It was not her responsibility when she spilled her coffee. Well, duh. Engage brain here; coffee is hot. But McDonald's must now warn people in writing that their coffee is hot. Multiply that type of law suit a zillion times.

A good Samaritan stops to help an injured driver. He's not a doctor, just a person who sees a need and wants to help. He acts - perhaps trained medical personnel would do it differently, but none are present - he's sued for attempting to help someone. Result: pass on by when you see someone lying by the road after an accident. Turn the other way when you see a classmate bullied at school. Close your ears if a friend is teased or harassed at work.

Multiply that sense of entitlement a zillion times and you have what's wrong with our country today.

It is the reason a woman wrote a complaining letter to the local newspaper when a policeman ticketed her husband for not buckling his seat belt. She implied her reasons (i.e. justifications, excuses) ... they were "older now." They had just stopped and he forgot. They were going slowly. They were admiring the "lovely" city sites. They were tourists, spending money to boost the city's economy. They believe the policeman "decided" to ticket them, rather than seeing what he did as his job, enforcing a state law. Bottomline: we expect you to overlook our mistake because we were doing all these other good things. We expect you to let us get away with breaking a law: the policeman doesn't have to let others get away with it when they're caught, but we deserve special treatment because of all these "reasons" above.

By the way, Kentucky has had a "primary" seat belt law since 2007. This means a person can be stopped and cited if anyone in the car fails to buckle a seat belt. The ticket can not exceed $25 per person. The letter writer believes they should have only been warned. There WAS a warning period ... it was over in 2006. I looked it up and found that Missouri has a "secondary" seat belt law, meaning that a ticket can only be issued for being unbuckled if the car was stopped for some other cit-able offence, like speeding, for example. The letter writer may not know the difference. However, the law doesn't usually find "But officer, I didn't know" as an excuse. Attention travelers: most states have seat belt laws. It is your responsibility to follow the laws of the states you pass through and to understand that there are consequences when you don't! It might also be helpful - when whining on the editorial page - to remember that old adage: "Better to keep your mouth shut and be thought a fool than to open your mouth and remove all doubt."

Teach your children that they bear responsibility and reap consequences for their actions. It will help them grow into mature adults. Teach them that an entitlement mentality fosters a poor grasp on reality; the bigger the chip-on-the-shoulder, the ruder the wake-up call when their denial and sense of special-ness meet the real world. Teach your children the value of sacrifice and goodwill, of kindness and personal responsibility and compromise. Show them by word and deed that you believe it yourself. That will help break the chain in the increasing sense of entitlement spreading like kudzu in our country.

And maybe then they won't grow up to write whiny letters to the editor.

Rant over.