My World Tuesday: Hartford, Saturday Style

From Mar 26, 2011

We went to Hartford, Connecticut, Saturday to visit the Wadsworth Atheneum and see an exhibit of Monet's Water Lilies paintings.

From Mar 26, 2011

There were permutations on Monet's beloved theme that we had not seen before--like this one behind the mime and the families. My photo does not do it justice; sitting and taking it in, I could see the reflections of clouds, the shadows of trees, life above and below the surface of the water. The painting felt like a summer's day.

From Mar 26, 2011

The Wadsworth is full of works from great artists and sumptuous, sensuous wonders from artists I'll never remember even if their works sing in memory. It's wonderful that even in these miserable economic times there are the resources for this wonderful place to renovate, restore, and expand. Even the chain-link fence offered up samples of art that transformed the street.

From Mar 26, 2011

My World Tuesday

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My World Tuesday: Spring Comes

The inky waters of early morning on the last day of winter promised a good day.  It came.



For the first time since I took a rotten fall that tore a hole out of my right shin in December, I went for a walk and spent a little time at the swamp I think of as my swamp.  Soon the turtles will be out and the geese and the beaver.



This lodge built pretty close to the road filled me with enough joy for a long while.  Last year, the biggest and most incredible beaver I had ever seen was killed by a motorist and left in the road.  After that, I had seen no beaver activity.  The odd (he is very odd) muskrat would appear and disappear like the clockwork of an erratic timepiece, but that was about it. This creation fills me with hope.



Out for a walk down a familiar path with the family on Sunday, I decided to photograph a log I have passed many times.  The demise of this tree is clearly the work of a beaver. Every time I pass it, I think it is likely the self-portait of my friend who met an unfortunate end in the road.  (I see a beaver when I look at this fallen tree.  Do you?)

On the first day of spring, there was plenty of skunk cabbage opening to the warmth of the sun.  When we came across these wonderful plants, I thought again of the snow and how the crushing weight of the stuff was formidable.  The manager of our condo association hired a squad of brave and carefree Albanian men to move the icebergs off our roofs lest they collapse as so many others had. Plows moved snow and moved it again and melted it for good measure. Snow and the dread of more of it consumed our thoughts. Yet, in those places where neurotically self-important humans did not extend their reach, the white stuff melted and life went on.  Looking out my back window later in the day, I thought how the very leaves that had not been raked or blown away in the autumn were exactly where they had been way back then. The crushing weight of so many tons of snow and the tread of my daughter, dog, and I did not displace them.  Life went on.  We and the weathermen merely imagined the drama. 

My World Tuesday

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My World Tuesday: The Cutting Edge of Fashion

I tell my daughter all the time that I live on the cutting edge of fashion--all the time being when I pull on my parka, snow pants (three-season wear, really), all of which are about 20 years old. They were wise investments from L. L. Bean. I will likely die of old age with these items freshly laundered and waiting to be of service in my closet.

Styles have changed in 20 years, though, right? They must have. Nobody dresses like I do. Take heart, I tell my daughter when she has to be seen with me in public, when plumb is again a fashionable color and snow jackets again sport patch pockets, my shopping will be done. Just the other day in the mall, I came across women's slacks with rolled hems, "Look at that!" I said to Dell. "I have been rolling my hems for the past year, and now it's the thing to do?"

I can't really take credit for the inside-out look that comes and goes at places like the Gap and Aeropostale, but I can tell you I never think twice about changing things around when they're backwards or inside out when I leave in the morning.

Those "boyfriend" pants and the Oxford sweathers I feel I have a part in, though. I have been wearing my dad's cast off sweaters for years--the same years comfortable pants have been the rule. (Alas, gone are the days of helping my father pick out my ex-brother-in-law's Christmas gifts from the Bean catalog as if I were investing in my own fashion future.  If plumb wasn't in fashion, even then, it was still available in the clearance catalog. How time flies.)

If you know me at all, you might have noticed I said mall and Gap and Aeropostale like I know about these things. Well, I know a little now. Dell and I were back on Saturday to see what was left of the Nordstrom shoe sale. (Yes. Nordstrom. Where they have all the comfortable chairs around so you don't fall over when you get a look at the prices.) I am a lousy shopper and found nothing on sale. Dell and I did walk away with new shoes, though. Now, when I feel like looking vaguely female--like I don't have Herman Munster-sized feet in my Earth shoes that are sure to see the decade out with me--I have these pretty litte things.

Note: These photos are not directly connected to the text except that the writer and the photographer were the same person who does not get out much. The camera fits neatly in the pocket of the parka, by the way.

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My World Tuesday: Lennie's Friends

I began the school year telling my students about the turtles that next on Topsail Island and about the Karen Beasley Sea Turtle Hospital there that cares for sea turtles injured, most frequently, by boat propellers and cruel or careless fishermen.

I showed my students a brief homemade video of a loggerhead hatchling making its way into the ocean as caring onlookers watched and kept him safe from crabs, seagulls, and other predators. My students understood that they are like the turles in many ways. Random cruelty or unfairness can harm or handicap any of us, to be sure. Still, there are kind people willing to help us swim--but we ultimately swim on our own. When we step forward, we are on our own.

Lennie, the Ambassador of the Karen Beasley Sea Turtle Hospital

I made a donation to the turtle hospital, and the blind Kemp's Ridley Lennie, who is an ambassador for the sea turtle hospital, became our classroom mascot. Beaten blind by a fishermen who had caught him up in his nets, Lennie was rescued by a fisherman who had brought him to the hospital where he will live out his days. I hung his photo and our certificate of adoption in my classroom. The stuffed animal version of Lennie became a classmate, and the kids took turns from day to day keeping him on their desks.

At Chrismas, my daughter and I visited Topsail, and I brought back some seashell turtles for my classes. I challenged them to take turns caring for these little knicknacks, which started out as Lennies but took on differnt names. Each day the student caring for the little thing brought him back to class, I would add a sticker to our sticker chart.

The real Lennie's avatar for one of my classes has the street name Lenito. He has had his head blued back on once. Two very patient, gentle girls put him together after some other student in another class knocked him onto the floor by accident. 

Eventually, I would exchange these stickers for dollars and send a donation to the turtle hospital. Thus, my students could do a good thing for these animals at the same time they learned to cooperate with each other and to deal with the basic ideas that life is fragile and that we sometimes need a little extra glue to keep ourselves going. (Indeed, we have added flippers and restored heads to necks over the past several weeks. Life merrily goes on.)

This avatar belongs to a different class. Though they have transported him in a range of luxuriously appointed cardboard and wooden boxes, he lost a flipper. Recently we found a shell that seemed adequate for the job, and a couple of would-be surgeons made the repair.

One class learned a tough lesson when the student whose turn it was to watch Lennie lost him, broke him, or something. Bottom line: Lennie was gone. These kids were annoyed with their classmate for knocking them out of the game. They were also irked they weren't making a contribution to the real Lennie and his buddies recovering on Topsail.

So my daughter went through her shells for potential turtle parts, and I cobbled together this unlikely creation to get that class back the game. Within a few days, they had me getting my glue gun out again for some emergency surgery. The girl who had him was proud to have him and showed him to a friend, who dropped him on his head. So it goes. The uninitiated need to be brougth in slowly so they can learn to be careful.

This is the third Lennie's replacement. A strand of dried hot glue remains as the only sign of his operation.  The head restoration went well.

Recently, my classes received a beautiful letter from the turtle hospital telling them about the good work the folks there do and the importance of Lennie and the essential role of caring people. My kids were pretty pumped up to hear from these busy folks, and they're working on their replies.

We brainstormed the details that should go in our letters, and then I asked my students to look over those details and see if a main idea emerged from them--a general statement or theme. "When you get kicked, you gotta get back up again," Kenny said. "Lennie's not poor--don't say that. He got friends," said Yomaira. Kyanna, the mediator and moderator put it together: "So. When you get knocked down, you can get back up again if you have friends."

Life is reading and writing. If you can do these well, you can live well. That's where we started in September. That's where we are now. Like Lennie, we "got friends."



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