And Who Says Birders Don't Have a Sense of Humor?

(Found on the "Sightings" board at the Nature Center where I often walk.)

A catch-up entry: my week has been so full that I haven't really been capable of writing.  Sunday before yesterday, our church's pastor had the honor of preaching  a wonderfully prophetic sermon at the National Cathedral in Washington, D.C.  I don't think he'd mind my quoting my favorite portion:

"And yet there is danger in this passage [he is referring to the Great Commission, which calls upon Christians to make disciples of all nations]; a grave danger of misinterpretation. And I fear that this danger, this misinterpretation, is holding sway, perhaps even winning the day in our nation. The danger, of course is, confusing Christ’s commission with some other commission; Christ’s vision, with some other vision; blurring the Kingdom of God with some other lesser kingdom until eyes can’t see and ears can’t hear, and we miss the mark of the Kingdom’s goal.

It is a danger that, throughout the ages, has led to great evil. Crusade, pogroms, destruction of native culture, cultural, political and military imperialism all in the name of Jesus Christ. As Gordon Kaufman once wrote: “what are we to make of the fact that the Christian institutions, communities, and traditions have been responsible for so much oppression and suffering in human history?”

It seems to me that the lines between the Kingdom of God and its baptism of self surrender, servant hood and reconciling love is being blurred in our country by a misguided vision of the American Kingdom and its baptism of self-righteous patriotism, materialism, and suspicion. We pray “Lord, lead us not into temptation” but we are being led into temptation, I believe, “like sheep being led to the slaughter” equating the great commission of Jesus Christ with an imperialistic dream of winning the world for some other kingdom. Winning the world for some Pax Americana at the expense of Pax Christi.

I received just two weeks ago the plan of the Ohio Restoration Project. Claiming the endorsement of major political leaders in Ohio, this so called “project” will target 2,000 pastors in the state to become “Patriot Pastors.” Participating in Pastor Policy Briefings and regional God and Country rallies these “patriot pastors” will be asked to insert voting guides in their church bulletins provided by the Christian Coalition, the American Family Association, and the Center for Moral Clarity. A statewide OHIO for JESUS rally is planned for late February or mid-March 2006. At the bottom of the mailing I received was the statement: “America has a mission to share a living savior with a dying world.”

I do not believe that is America’s mission.

When the church of Jesus Christ abdicates its mission to any nation, to any government—when we confuse the Christian story with any national story, when we superimpose a national agenda onto our Lord’s agenda—we are close, dangerously close, to losing our soul. We are succumbing to the devil’s temptation in the wilderness to bow down and worship him, so that “in an instant all the kingdoms of the world” will be handed over.” (Luke 4:5)"

Is it any wonder that I have been rattled by his invitation, offered a couple of days later, to preach in our church one Sunday this summer?  Soon.  Soon enough that I have gone completely brain-dead as I have waited for a message to come to me.  I know the text, but the well of inspiration has run completely dry.

And then there are my own job and employment issues, one child's preparations for summer school at his twin brother's college (and in his apartment), the other brother's preparations for six weeks in Spain, and the girl's graduation from high school next week.  She may turn out to be my one gainfully employed child this summer -- the animal shelter where she is doing her senior project has offered her a job and so she is trying to work out hours and dates. 

And the DRIVEWAY PROJECT.  A concrete drive to the back corner of the house; a concrete-stamped area in back to double as driveway and patio for out teeny tiny lot, and a new garage floor.  Think money, dust, money, machinery hopelessly stuck in narrow drive, money, my new friends the concrete guys here every morning to wake me up, money, my new friends the concrete guys disappearing to the beach and leaving me with a sea of mud, money, city permit and inspection headaches, money.

Can you tell that I've been through 90-year-old home improvement projects before?

And, finally,  who might have remembered for the past six months that summer always comes back around with its lush explosion of botanical life? SADD, you are finished for the season.

(Home of the Ivory-Billed Woodpecker)(Tee-Hee)

Playtime

Just one of those things that goes around:

If I could be a musician...I would play the flute in a world-famous orchestra.

If I could be a farmer...I would run a horse ranch in Montana.

If I could be a psychologist...I would work with adults trying to recreate their lives after surviving rough disappointments.

If I could be a lawyer...I am a lawyer.

If I could be a missionary...I would try to respect the faiths and lives of others.

If I could be a gardener...I would have hollyhocks everywhere.

If I could be a painter...I would live in France.

If I could be an architect...I would design small houses and cottages.

If I could be a doctor...I would be a world-famous brain surgeon.

If I could be a linguist...I would teach at a huge university and travel several times a year.

If I could be a writer...you mean I'm NOT?

If I could be a professor...I would be tenured at my alma mater and live on Benefit Street.

If I could be an athlete...I would play soccer and I would understand offsides.

If I could be a justice on any court in the world...it would be at Le Hague.

If I could be a world famous blogger...oh, the places I would go and the things I would see.

If I could be married to any current world politician...I would get a divorce as quickly as possible. 

If I could be a scientist...I would study wildlife in Africa.

If I could be an actor...I would look like Geena Davis but I would BE Kathy Bates.

If I could be a chef...now THAT would be a surprise.

If I could be an innkeeper...St. Augustine, here I come.

My place in France :)

 

 

Homeless Royalty

Shelter Waif. . . or. . . Egyptian Queen?

Thou art the Great Cat, the avenger of the Gods, and the judge of words, and the president of the sovereign chiefs and the governor of the holy Circle; thou art indeed...the Great Cat.

- Inscription on the Royal Tombs at Thebes

Spay and Neuter

I joined my daughter for a little while today at the Animal Protective League, to take one last set of pictures for her Senior Project.

It's hard to believe that people persist in breeding dogs and cats when the world is packed with homeless animals eager for homes, and in failing to spay and neuter those they already have.  The shelter is packed with creatures like this:

Another unfortunate group:  animals whose owners acquire them without sufficient forethought.  This is the sign on the cage of a lovely female black lab.  She's been in the shelter for a full month of the eleven since she's been born; the card indicates she was surrendured by her owner because she got "too big."

My daughter is a gentle little soul, but she has no tolerance for owners who take home cute little puppies and then abandon them when they grow up.

Dogs on the Move (Or Not)

Yesterday the Animal Protective League held its annual fundraiser Dog Walk-A-Thon.  While the young lady worked the Coke stand, I took some more pictures.

I forget the name of this breed ~ he's a Hungarian something-or-other.  We christened him Dreadlocks Dog. 

This fellow settled right into the dog drinking pool and refused to come out.  Several feet away, another dog was doing the same thing.

The dogs took their owners on a  2-mile walk along the river, where thrush and oriole calls livened the morning further. 

Procrastination

Yesterday's Saturday Six:

1. What is the last product or service you tried just because you saw a commercial that impressed or amused you about the product?  Did you like the product or service after you tried it?

I don't watch commericals (except for the Polar Bear Coke commericals which appear on rare occasions).  When my kids were little, I told them that, if it appeared on tv, they couldn't have it.  I'm sure that I do have a lot of things that have appeared on tv, but I doubt that I saw them there.

2. How old is the oldest photograph in your home?  Are you in it?

I'm thinking that it's the one of my great-grandmother sitting in a carriage in front of her house -- probably about 1895?  And no, I'm not in it.

3. What is the most supernatural event you have experienced?  Did you feel there was a specific reason that it happened to you?

I'm not sure what a "supernatural event" is.  I haven't seen a ghost, if that's what you mean.

4. Do you usually consider the glass half-empty or half-full?

I'm a pretty pragmatic person, but I'm not morose about it.

5. What part or parts of your body do you shave regularly?

Now that's either a very wierd or a very personal question.

6. What day is typically your busiest of the week?  What day are you usually the happiest?  What day are you usually the saddest?

That's kind of an interesting question, but I don't think there's any pattern.  Either each day is entirely its own, or I'm too ADD to catch on to what might be some kind of orderly progression.

 

Eclectic Spring Reading

Animals

My daughter is spending the month of May on her Senior Project, working for the Animal Protective League.  Most days she cleans cages, helps clients interact with (and, she hopes, choose!) animals, and engages herself with other shelter activities.  Yesterday she headed out with a small group of people and animals for the weekly venture to a downtown mall/lunch spot.  I met them there to take some photographs for the Powerpoint she will eventually make for her final project presentation.

This little fellow was adopted yesterday.  He was wiped out after wriggling around in excitement for awhile.

Why Blog?

Lisa over at Coming To Terms has raised some thoughtful questions about blogging -- why we do it, what the rewards are, why we stop.   She notes that a number of excellent writers have vanished from the AOL scene and wonders what drives us to start and then to drop out -- topics, comments, reader numbers, what?

I suppose that many of us ruminate about these issues.  After all, journaling does steal time from many other endeavors.  And reading journals -- journals and journals and journals, oh my! 

I started my journal thinking diet and fitness -- I thought I would make myself more accountable by appearing in print.  Well, that sure worked.  But what I did find, as my friend Kathryn has noted, is that the very act of keeping a public journal has changed the way that I look at things.  I am much more attentive to the bits and pieces of my life now, often thinking of how some minor occurrence or idea will translate into a journal entry.

That ""public" is the rub. This journal has been a regular activity in my life for nearly 14 months now -- that's about 13 months and 3 weeks longer than I've managed to keep up with any of my handwritten journals.  There's no doubt that the comments are a huge motivating factor.  I wasn't anticipating the community aspect of AOL journals at all, but I have found a small group of folks with whom I seem to share a certain crooked perspective on enough topics to keep us all reading and supporting one another -- some regularly, some erratically.  I'm one of those all-over-the-place journalers, so I've had to realize that I'll never gain much of a dedicated following.  Lisa is right -- the psychology of the genre seems to lend itself toward categorization, and my rambles through reading, family life, teaching, nature, religion, travel, photography, politics, and the neighborhood don't seem easily categorizable.  I'm also pretty circumspect in print, and that's just me -- I'm not going to say anything much at all about my job or rant about my family in such a public space.  No Queen of Sky problems for me, thank you very much -- and I want to feel confident that anything my family members find online won't lead to civil war.

I'm the same kind of reader -- all over the place.  Sometimes I just sit and follow journal link to journal link.  I used to save the ones I liked, but I'm almost given up on that -- otherwise I would be reading journals 24/7.  My Favorite Places category for journals is about to explode as it is.  But my proclivity for reading just about anyone on just about anything probably makes me a poor journal fan.  An ADD reader isn't your best bet for building a solid and consistent reader base.

I have been wondering if my journaling is running its course, but for a couple of good reasons.  For one, I've explored most of my limited range of opinions in the past year, and there's no reason to bore other people into the sound sleep that eludes me every night.  (Hey! Let them all wander around the house at 4:00 a.m, too!)  And, for a second, I'm becoming increasingly interested in working on my writing in a maybe-fine-tune-this-maybe-publish-something kind of way, and that takes TIME.  So I may start to reschedule msyelf a bit.

On the other hand (there's always another hand), as I flip through the past 14 months, my journal tells me that I've seen a third child through high school and the college application process, sent older kids off on European travels, gotten two courses close to another degree, revived my interest in photography, acquired some new leadership responsibilities, survived a traumatic election, worked on my writing, and shared the end of life with a beloved family member.  There's something to be said for hanging on to some version of it all.

Trading Places

It seems to me that there is some kind of reality television show out there about family members who trade places for awhile.  I have found the next candidates -- my friend Pamela and me!  Pamela has just transformed her back yard, practically overnight.  I know that it didn't seem so fast to her, but trust me on this one -- to those of us who might take the entire summer to wash a window or two, what she has done is positively miraculous. 

So here's what I've sent her:

I will be on a flight to Atlanta later tonight.  I'll just take the metro out to your house; don't give my arrival a thought.  You will find me lounging on a floater in the middle of the pool when you get up in the morning.  Tell your husband  I have few requirements -- a margarita every evening would be nice.  I have no plans to clean, putter, garden, redecorate, or construct anything at all.  I'll just stay in the pool.  

When you get to the Cleveland airport, I suggest that you stop by Home Depot on your way in.  I will leave a large credit for you.  Just be sure that you include a hot tub in the back yard design, and I would like some of those very cool turtle steps that you walk on.  Our soil here is almost 100% solid clay, so it will take quite a bit of work to make the gardens functional, but I know you can handle it.  

You can send me pictures.  When the yard is done, you can start on the drive which has to be replaced -- we're putting pavers in the back, or else doing that cool concrete stamping thing that you did, so the back turnaround can double as a patio.  

I figure this will take you all summer, so buy some winter clothes on me.  I'm certainly not coming back until the azaleas are in bloom again next spring.  I don't see any reason for ME to leave Atlanta when YOU could have the pleasure of snow next winter instead of me.  I'll consider it my sacred duty to make sure that your pool water heater is fully operational.  

See you in a  few hours!

From the National Gay and Lesbian Task Force

Monday, May 16, 2005

Articles of Faith: Biblical Values for American Families

by Reverend Jay Emerson Johnson, Ph.D.

Richard Lindsay, Communications Associate
Media Liaison to National Religious Leadership Roundtable
(646)358-1474
rlindsay@TheTaskForce.org

May 17 marks the first anniversary of Massachusetts offering equal marriage benefits to same-sex couples. For those of us who believe in those rights, and the more than 5,000 same-sex couples that have been married, it is a moment for reflection and celebration. Our joy, however, is mixed with a sense of loss, because 14 states have since passed measures banning legal recognition of same-sex relationships.

Religious opponents of equal marriage frequently use the Bible for justification of their stance. In March, the Southern Baptist Convention released the Nashville Declaration on Same-Sex Marriage, in which it based its opposition to equality on "the biblical teaching that God designed marriage as a lifetime union of one man and one woman." For biblical literalists, they don't know much about the Bible. Biblical families and American families share the word "family" in common, but not much more. But if we look beyond the radically different structure of Biblical marriage, modern families can still find timeless values in the scriptures to guide them.

First, it's important to recognize that the most common marriage pattern in the Bible is polygamy: not a union of one man and one woman, but a union of one man and as many women as he could afford to keep (see Solomon, and his 700 wives and 300 concubines). In the Christian scriptures, the two primary figures, Jesus and the Apostle Paul, are both unmarried and childless. Based on the model of Jesus and his disciples, the early church developed a radical model of family that broke with ancient kinship patterns in favor of a religious — and nonbiological — church family.

"Biblical family values" present just as many problems as "biblical families." Abraham's use of his slave, Hagar, to sire a child, and his subsequent banishment of her and the child to the wilderness (Genesis 21:14) would be considered unspeakably callous by today's standards. Yet according to the family values of his day, Abraham was acting completely within his rights. When Jacob steals his brother Esau's birthright, the Bible describes it not simply as an act of brotherly betrayal but as a necessary part of God's will for God's people (Genesis 27). Even more severe is Jephthah's sacrifice of his own daughter to fulfill the terms of a foolish vow (Judges 11:29-40) or Onan being put to death for refusing to impregnate his late brother's wife (Genesis 38:9). Parents who cover their children's eyes during Desperate Housewives, might be shocked to discover what lurid tales of betrayal, rape, incest, and adultery — all transpiring within traditional biblical families — lurk between the covers of their family Bible.

Not every biblical family relationship is as dysfunctional as these examples. But when biblical figures act virtuously, they often do so outside the bounds of "traditional family." The story of Ruth and Naomi is an account of same-sex devotion often read, ironically, during heterosexual marriage ceremonies (Ruth 1:16). David and Jonathan's relationship is presented with a tenderness lacking in most biblical marriages: David admits that his love for his friend "surpassed the love of women" (2 Samuel 1:26). In the Gospels, when Jesus is asked about his own family, he replies with an answer that was as radical for his day as it is now: "Whoever does the will of my Father in heaven is my brother and sister and mother" (Matthew 12:48-50).

The structures of biblical families are rooted in ancient cultural practices far removed from the sensibilities of Western society; the authors of the Bible would scarcely recognize the partnership of equals that marks a contemporary American marriage. But this doesn't mean we should abandon the Bible as a guide to family values. As the mutable institution of marriage evolves with shifting cultural norms, the Bible continually calls us back to what truly matters in human relationships. St. Paul wrote about these values, calling them the "fruit of the spirit": "love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control" (Galatians 5:22). Surely these are biblical values every family would embrace. According to Paul, "love is patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude...It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things" (1 Corinthians 13:4-7). Even when knowledge and human institutions fail, these values, Paul says, remain constant: faith, hope and love. The greatest of these three, Paul concludes, is love (1 Corinthians 13:13).

Societal definitions of marriage and family will inevitably change over the course of history. It's clear that what is important in the Bible is not a family structure based on biology or even heterosexuality, but the quality of love exhibited in the relationships. And if same-sex couples exhibit such spiritual values, they deserve the legal protection and civil recognition of marriage. If we have any intention of preserving marriage or protecting families, we must base our support on values that are unchangeable: values such as faith, hope, and love. But the greatest among these — whether the couple is same-sex or heterosexual — is love.

###

The Rev. Jay Emerson Johnson, Ph.D., a member of the National Gay and Lesbian Task Force Religious Leadership Roundtable, is an Episcopal priest and the programming and development director for the Center for Lesbian and Gay Studies in Religion and Ministry at Pacific School of Religion in Berkeley, California (www.clgs.org).

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

More on the Highlands

I mentioned that week-end before last my dad and I participated in a guided hike on the Ka-Ma-Ma Prairie, a portion of the Highlands Sanctuary properties being preserved in southern Ohio.  Our leader, Larry Henry, was a delight, with an autobiography that serves as an example of life's unending twists and turns.  I can't do justice to his story, having heard it just that once, but I can offer the highlights:

Unable to afford college, Larry completed a two-year forestry program and ultimately found himself working in state natural resources.  He had a successful career under Republican administrations -- he noted to us that Republicans used to stand for conservation of natural resources -- and, ironically, found himself out of work with the election of a Democratic governor.  For the next 21 years he and his wife nurtured their love of growing organisms by operating a bakery, but eventually the wild lands of the Arc of Appalachia in southern Ohio issued their call. 

Today, the Henrys respond to the challenges posed by the current version of the Republican party by running Highlands Sanctuary and purchasing magnificent pieces of property to preserve them from further development.  They are not a second too soon -- southwestern Ohio, where I grew up and never expected to see anything other than farm after farm, is one of the fastest growth areas in the nation.  Now it's development after development.  My brother, whom I love dearly, lives in such a development -- he lives on a tiny plat of land  on one of countless rows of streets characterized by an endless series of brand-new colonials and double locks his doors in the daytime, on land where wheat used to grow and quail once called and where, prior to the advent of the midwestern farmer, wildflowers proliferated and birds nested. 

Larry Henry, seen here holding up an ash tree at Ka-ma-ma, is an eloquent advocate for lands that need him.  I'm including his wife's most recent online newsletter piece -- she, too, is a passionately articulate spokeperson for the preservation of wild lands.

There is something about spring that soothes our soul in its deepest realms. Spring is the promise that we counted on last winter, when we endured the long winter nights and freezing daytime winds. Those barren trees, once black icey sticks clattering against a gray sky, are today glowing green and living beings, filled with birdsongs and flowers. If we ever lose our wonder for the miracle of life and the renewal of spring, it will be the greatest of losses.

I traveled to the Ohio River yesterday to visit the Ohio River Bluffs property that we talked about last time; to seek support from the nearby village of Manchester -- a historic town perched on the mighty artery of the Beautiful River. The river was most comely on Friday, shining in the sun as it flowed past on its long journey to the Mississippi. The black locust trees were outdoing themselves. Every tree was completely shrouded in dangling cream-colored flowers, softening the landscape and filling it with perfume. Manchester, as it turned out, was thrilled at the thought of possibly having a  nature preserve on its outer permimeter and gave us a warm welcome, gracing us with a half-day tour of its historic homes and businesses. It is really a lovely place on the river. I think all of us should be visiting the River more often. It defines who we are as a people, it holds our history, it keeps us humble, and it is undoubtedly Ohio's greatest natural feature, debatably second only to Lake Erie to our north. If you missed the pictures of the Ohio River Bluffs that we sent out last time and hopefully a preserve-to-be, see  www.highlandssanctuary.org/1bluffs/ohio.river.bluffs.htm  If we can raise the modest funds to buy this property (only $50,000), this spectacular Ohio river wildlflower display will be saved forever.

On Tuesday I spent the morning in Hozho Canyon Preserve on the Rocky Fork Creek. It was its usual green and vernal self. Hozho is an Indian word for the dependable energy that renews and gives life, and so it was on Tuesday! The boulders that have tumbled into the bottom of the canyon made the water white as it swirled and rushed by -- each rock covered with dangling salmon-pink columbines. A mother wood duck glided downstream, with TEN little fluff-balls bobbing behind her in a tight cluster -- just a few feet away from where I sat upon a bed of sand. As she approached the rapids, she hesitated, then shot through. The ten babies streamed behind her in perfect single file as the water took them for a short but wild shoot through the rapids. For all you emotionally-reserved folks, I apologize for being so warm and fuzzy, but I think this must have been the cutest thing I have ever seen in my entire life. To think these little babies had probably just jumped out of a 10-20 foot high nest cavity over the river is a feat worth pondering. Talk about feeling like you are leaping off the edge of a cliff! And then having to learn to swim on the first try -- all at the tender age of a few hours old!

Last night two great blue herons flew high in the sky over my husband, Larry, and my heads. As we watched their slow wingbeats, I felt very deeply the idea-essence of 'stork' and all that storcks have meant to human beings over the milennia. Thank heavens Ohio still has its storks, even if they grace our treetops instead of our roofs. Suddenly one of the herons tipped its wings and dropped rapidly in altitude, like a hawk in a dive, then righted itself before it swooped above the canopy of trees. Its mate froze still in the air, an unmoving shadow in the sky. Then it too tilted its wings to catch the wind, and soared away on a tailwind. Larry and I were flabbergasted. We had never seen such raptor-like flight behavior from these normally heavy-flying herons, who are ususally identified by their slow steady wingbeats and their directional steady flight.

~~

Highlands Nature Sanctuary E-magazine, May 14, 2005
7629 Cave Rd., Bainbridge, OH 45612
937-365-1600  www.highlandssanctuary.org

Birding Quickie

I had such a disastrous morning, one in which everything I tried to accomplish just crumbled to dust.  But I DID make it out to the marsh boardwalk for a whole 20 minutes of birding, and here's what I saw (thanks to other folks for the photos):

Black-and-white warbler: 

Yellow warbler:

Chestnut-sided warbler:

American redstart: 

Palm warbler:

Northern oriole:

I tried to find a photo of an oriole that would indicate just how glorious it looks singing away in the sunshine from the top of a tree.

Not bad for a 20-minute walk, huh?

Well?

It is quiet around here, as another journaler has noted.  So, some questions.  If you feel like a week-end chat, post the questions and your answers in your journal and leave a link. 

1.  Do you know your next door neighbors?

2.  Does your family have any interesting plans for summer?

3.  When was the last time you saw your in-laws?

4.  What is the first thing that you have to do at work on Monday morning?

5.  What would I see if I were to walk up to your front door this week-end?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

1.  Our neighbors to the west have been here since we moved in 21 years ago.  Our combined seven children played together all the time for many,, many seasons.  Now among us we have a financial services professional, a married daughter in Germany, a recent graduate back from Germany and looking for work, three in college and one headed that way.  The couple to the east moved in few years after we did and eventually produced a darling child who is still in elementary school.  We began our acquaintance with a huge squabble over an encroaching fence (ours), but  I think we have all nonetheless turned out to be good neighbors to each other.

2.  We have been humbled by four different school schedules.  The older children have interesting plans -- Spain for one and architectural design classes for the other -- but the rest of us are lagging in the planning department.

3.  I think it's been nearly a year!  The kids went with their dad to see his family at Christmas, but my extremely limited vacation time and my ill stepmother's needs combined to keep me in-state.

4.  Ahhh.  I am the yearbook advisor and we are in a state of crisis.  The first thing that I have to do is log on to the yearbook website and see whether there is any hope of a yearbook arrival before graduation.

5.  You would see an unraveled hose, decrepit daffofils, and. . . Ta Da:

Rural Cemetery

My mother is buried there, and my brother.

My grandfather, and someday my grandmother.

Other people gone a century ago,

and some more recently, but long after the county lost track of which bones lie where.

A cross made by a desolate child for World's Best Dog, crumbled decades past.

Trillium in abundance.

 

America the Beautiful

Today is a holiday at my school.  

So here's my schedule, with my daughter's court date for last month's accident as its focal point:  

Yesterday afternoon: Suddenly remembered that my daughter might lose her license in court today, so raced to meet her at P.O. at 4:30 so she could apply for a new passport while she still has a picture ID  in her possession.  Informed by hassled employee that they only do weekday passport apps between the convenient hours of  9 and 4.  Look at application and ask if she can use her old passport to prove both her citizenship and her identity.  Am told no; she MUST have her license because her passport picture (which looks exactly like her) is too old and my presence is inadequate to verify her identity even though, since she is under 18 and obtained her first passport before age 16, my presence is REQUIRED.  Get in car and read on app that she CAN use ME to prove who she is. I don't bother to go back in.  I am remembering very clearly how they would not allow me to verify the identities of my boys when they got their first passports, despite the CLEAR instructions from the Department of State of the United States of America labeling such as a clear option.  

Today, 8:30-9:30: Drive to courthouse of county where she had her accident.  

9:30-9:45: Wait for officious bailiff to announce our presence.  

9:45 -10: Court hearing.  Magistrate is decent and recognizes that daughter made an error of judgment in a bad situation that might have been a problem for anyone, but still puts 2 points on her license and suspends it for  30 days.  (In our county, where the judges recognize that points and license suspension for juveniles basically punish the parents, in the form of higher insurance rates and the need to drive said children around, the penalty for a first offense is to bring in 50 cans of food for the homeless after 6 months and, assuming no further incidents, the record is wiped clean.  If said child gets another citation in those 6 months, they throw the book at her.  MY child was,  was, of course, approximately five feet over the county line when she made -- ahem -- a rather large mistake.)  She is permitted to drive to school and senior project but we have to turn in her license and get paperwork indicating same.  Magistrate agrees that we can hang onto the license for 24 hours so she can do passport application.  

10-10:15: Wait for officious bailifff to let us see the clerk (right behind him) to pay fine and costs.  

Interlude:  Explain to daughter the old saying: "People often feel the need to insist upon demonstrations of authority in exact inverse proportion to the level of power they actually possess."  

10:30-11:30: Drive to home P.O. for further demonstration of above maxim.  Clerk says casually, "Oh, with you here and her old passport, she doesn't need her LICENSE."  I mention that I had asked her about this yesterday and note that she has just added 2 hours of driving to my day.  No apology or even blink of recognition forthcoming.  

11:30-12:30  Get lunch, go home for a change of clothes, drive daughter to senior project site.  

12:30-2:30 Drive back to county courthouse  to turn in her license and collect papers saying what her restrictions are. We have forgotten to mention that she takes voice lessons outside of school.  Clerk says too bad; you will have to petition the court or drive her yourself.  Drive home.  

3:30-4:30  Retrieve daughter from senior project.  

5-5:30  Daughter has to drive to school for concert.  Please God let there be no more traffic incidents.  

7:00  I have to drive to school for concert.  Another hour's round trip.   Isn't this a great day off?  Well, it's spring and there will be music at the end of it.  And right now I feel an intense need for chocolate chocolate chip.  

 

Two-Flowered Cynthia

Highlands of Ohio

Last week-end I went down to visit my dad for the first time since my stepmother died nearly two months ago.  One of the reasons I had delayed my visit was our plan to visit the Highlands Sanctuary, which we had to decided to postpone due to the heavy, wet, and destructive snowfall two weeks earlier.

Because the preserves of the Sanctuary are private and managed with an eye toward preservation rather than human intrusion, a permit is required for hiking there, and we missed the one-week pre-registration deadline for our own trip.  So my dad signed us up for a guided prarie hike instead, which turned out to be a completely different experience than we would have had on our own.  We were with a group of about 20 people, many of them experienced birders and expert botanists.  Since I can't recognize bird calls other than those most basic to our neighborhood and know absolutely nothing whatever about wild plants, it was a treat for me to be among knowledgeable (completely obsessed, actually) folks.  I'm not sure that I would have otherwise noticed a single wildflower of the many we spent hours photographing.

Yellow Ladyslipper

A Perfect Day - Somewhere Else

I have been playing around with what-do-I-want-to-be-when-I-grow-up questions, incited, no doubt, by my youngest's imminent departure for college, and I've been looking at websites focused on creating a life mission statement.  I'm sure that many of us have done this; it's an excellent method for procrastinating the actual getting on with one's life.  At any rate, one such site suggested as an exercise writing out your idea of a perfect day.  I had a lot of fun with that one, although I only chose one perfect kind of day.  Maybe I'll try another one in a week or so. 

In my first perfect day, I live in a condo on the ocean in St. Augustine Beach.  I have a particular condo in mind, because I've stayed there: it opens onto the dunes and has a huge deck from which you can see the ocean, and the master bedroom is on the ocean side.

I wake up to the sound of the ocean while it's still dark.

I take a sunrise 3-mile walk on the beach, come in and shower, and go back out to the beach to do yoga while my hair dries.

I spend the morning on the deck doing my own work -- writing, working on photos, preparing classes. I eat a light and healthy breakfast and lunch while I am doing those things.

In the early afternoon I go into town, where I teach a couple of classes or go to a meeting or two, and then meet a friend for an early Margarita on the porch of Scarlett O'Hara's or one of the restaurants on the bayfront.

I go back home (Imagine! "Home" is on the ocean!) and change and grab my gear and head over to the marsh for a little kayak trip to a tiny oyster shell-encrusted island so that I can shoot some sunset photos as the full moon rises over the Mantanzas River.  I am particularly fond of moonrises over the river as pelicans and herons sail toward their evening roosting spots. 

As it gets dark I am loading my kayak back onto my car rack and heading home for a late dinner and conversation with my husband.  He's made the dinner, of course, since I am a dreadful cook, and we have become very European in our dining times.

We go out to check on the ocean one last time before falling asleep.  It is, miraculously, still there.

Trillium -- Yes, In the Midwest

Water Not Ice

I am a bit overwhelmed by demands on my writing life:  my honors history students are zapping me with e-mailed drafts of a paper due in a few days, and a speaker for next Sunday's adult education at church has landed in the hospital, necessitating a quick revision in plans.  I have some good material to use, but I can't figure out where I put it down earlier today.  Oh, and I just finished a one-page summary of that 15-page paper I wrote last week for a presentation tomorrow night.  (OK, so I cheated; I can't fit it onto one page.  I altered the spacing and font size just a tad.  Think my ultra-compulsive prof will notice?)

Anyway, for journal purposes, let's just say that I don't have another written word in me right now, but I am very aware that the ice has melted and the grasses are growing in the marshes.  Our tiny back yard's feeders briefly hosted a chipping sparrow and a white-crowned sparrow last night -- spring is here, the ice has gone, and the migrants are coming through!

What Gives?

A couple of AOL-journalers have mentioned that they have turned down offers for their journals to be featured as weekly Editor's Picks due to copyright issues.

Truthfully, I hadn't given copyright much thought.  Usually when you sell a piece to a publication, it purchases what are known as "First North American Serial Rights," which means it has the right to publish the piece for the first time, and for one time, after which the copyright reverts to you and you can try to re-sell it as a reprint. 

Notice that I used the word "sell."  When we write journal entries which appear online, we aren't selling anything at all to AOL.  In fact, we can delete every word we've written and every photo we've added whenever we want.

So who owns the rights to what?

Tonight I decided to delve a little further, and I read the Terms of Use that appear on the journal homepage  I can report that its language is unclear, to say the least. It essentially states that AOL owns the rights to everything that appears on its site (What rights?  ALL rights?), but then goes on to advise us to contact AOL if we believe that our work has been copied and our copyright infringed.

The only thing that seems clear is that the Terms of Use were not written with journalers in mind.

I'm going to ask John Scalzi to take a look at this entry and seek some clarity for us.  I can't imagine that most of us believe that by adding an entry to an online journal we are losing the rights to our written or photographic work -- if that is the case, I think that AOL Journals might dry up rather quickly.  However, I do believe that AOL needs to add a crystal clear clarification regarding copyright to any pages to which a journaler might turn for information or assistance.

It would seem to me that, at the most, given that we receive no compensation for our work, we might be donating nonexclusive rights to our work to aol and otherewise retaining all other rights, including the right to sell, publish, reprint. etc. our work whenever, however, and to whomsoever we chose.

In the meantime, I was out in the woods this past week-end, where it was awfully nice to see flowers in bloom that weren't planted by human hands:

Indian Paintbrush

This Land Is Your Land, This Land Is My Land

 

 

REALLY Springtime

It's finished -- over and out, done, ready to turn in tomorrow night: a 15-page paper on St. Peter's Dome, complete with 60-plus footnotes, a 2-page bibliography, and 14 images.  The monstrosity that has dominated my life for weeks and weeks is behind me, and I'm off for a walk to enjoy springtime without the weight of that particular item monopolizing my "To Do" list.

This morning I also ran errands and managed to purchase a short term health insurance policy for one of my college sons, who announced last week that he plans to drop a course, which will relegate him to part-time student status for the remainder of the quarter.  "Not so fast," I ordered, before going off to investigate and discovering that, sure enough, immediately upon his dropping said class, both our medical and dental insurance would consider him ineligible for coverage until he is a fulltime student once again next fall.  (Not that one should assume that any such thing will happen... .).  I could go into a long rant about the state of health insurance in this country and our President's misplaced obsession with Social Security, which might be better directed at the REAL funding crisis we face, the one for medical care for individuals not umbillically attached to a large corporate employer, but I've been muttering about that all week-end.  So I'll spare you.

It's SPRING out there.  A cold, damp, and cloudy but nevertheless post-equinox day.  Things can only be looking up.

Prom? Already? Already Over?

A baby who always navigated the world in her own way, a scoot rather than a crawl.

A tiny girl with a white-blond cap of hair, standing underneath a newly identified crabapple tree: "Don't let the crabs out!"

A kid in elementary school, taking advantage of Montessori freedom to write cat stories with her girlfriends all day long.

A 10-year-old homeschooler, volunteering at the animal shelter.

A middle schooler, making a graduation speech in which she minces no words about the diappointments wrought by administrative changes.

A high school freshman, stiffening herself against almost unbearable loss and heartache.

A sophomore, realizing that she's "maybe smarter than I thought!"

A junior, reconsidering the above.

Friday, a senior going to her last high school classes EVER.

Last night, a girl with a prom dress and a date.

Tomorrow, back to the animal shelter, after an absence of five years, for a month-long senior project.

It was all too fast.

I love you, sweetie.