Oscar Blah!

I couldn't make it all the way through the Oscars last night. Of course, the fact that the only Oscar nominated movie I saw was my grandson's DVD of "Cars" might have dampened my interest a smidge. It wasn't that Ellen DeGeneres did a bad job. She did a perfectly okay job.

I have never watched any other awards show. Seriously. Never. I can't say how the Oscars compare with the Country Music Hall of Fame, for example. I guess, for me anyway, the Oscars were tedious. I really didn't care. Can't somebody help those folks with their acceptance speeches? Sheesh!

I pity the person who must put on this extravaganza because it really has very strict limits on how it must be done so there is little room for creativity. It isn't simply that movie stars are over paid egotists, because, of course, most of them are. Most of them are people you probably wouldn't have even been friends with in school because they were just too weird. It is an easy, cheap shot to criticize celebrity when I will watch poor Britney Spears and her daily train-wreck with fascination. Maybe the public is starting to see that these people just aren't that interesting.

I think, however, I would be friends with Meryl Streep. It is said that she is so very down to earth. If she ever asked me out to coffee I'd go and have a great time, and I'm pretty darn sure she would ask me about my family and my work.

I think I'll renew my NetFlix subscription and get on the treadmill and watch some movies, and next year I'll watch the Oscars and actually have some favorites.

Prayers and such

My son-in-law, Brett, wrote an intriguing blog about intercessory prayer at http://sheepdays.wordpress.com/. Both the blog and the comments afterwards are fascinating. All the writers concerned are experts in theology. I am not. I was lucky enough to have had some very wonderful church experiences and one of them was a lesson from a youth minister when I was a ninth grader in Connecticut in 1963. The pastor's name has long since been forgotten but his lesson probably set the course for my life concerning prayer. The lesson was through the following charming story.

Once there was a man who went to visit heaven. He was being taken around the various areas and came to a gigantic switch board that was being run by harried angels who had old-fashioned headsets. They were busily connecting and disconnecting cords as lights blinked frantically. The man asked about the lights on the switchboard. There were red, yellow and green lights. "It looks like traffic lights, " the man commented.

"Yes, " sighed the angel.

"Mostly red, I see," the man pointed towards the board.

"You see there is a color coded system for the prayers. The red lights are the asking prayers."

"Oh, " the man said. "I guess that's what most prayers are; people asking God for things."

"That's true," the angel shook his head. "Everybody wants something from God."

"What about the other lights, the green and yellow?"

"Well, the green, the few of them you see, " he swept his hand across the board, " are prayers of thanks."

"What about the couple of yellow lights?"

" Oh, the yellow, " the angel smiled wistfully, " those are prayers of praise."


So I learned early on to make sure my prayers were of the praising and thanking kind.

Lily & Nana

This photo was taken when we visited Bonnie in Minnesota in October of 2005.

Horrible Scare!

This past Thursday I had a horribly strange and scary phone call from my sister. She is a baby-boomer, too, a teacher, a grandma, and a woman who feels passionatly about things. She had called me with some news that she wanted me to include in my prayers. I was happy to do this. The strange part of the phone call was that she was repeating her story and repeating her story ... over and over. I knew she wasn't drunk, but I knew something was very wrong. What should I do? I could call her daughters but surely they would have noticed this extreme behavior. My husband and daughter said that I needed to notify my sister's girls. But what if I was wrong, or mistaken? What if I WASN'T wrong or mistaken? This was a catch-22. I was sick with worry.

Last night my sister called again and all seemed fine, then she told me that she had had a peculiar reaction from an over-the-counter cold medicine. It had made her feel woozy and fuzzy-headed and she wanted to warn me as I have drug reactions (Nyquil will keep me up for 24 hours, for instance.) I asked Bonnie if she had taken the drug Thursday night. Yes, she had, but she hadn't noticed it so extremely at home because she thought she was tired and stressed, but it really hit her Friday at school. She said she had the feeling she shouldn't have even driven the mile to school!

I started crying! Here I had thought my sister was quite literally going into senility and it was an over-the-counter drug. The moral of this story is to stay away from an over-the-counter drug that comes in a purple box (by the name of Benedryl cold something or rather.)

Thomas' Birthday.

Dear Thomas,

This Sunday you will be four years old. As soon as I got that first picture of you I posted it on the board in my classroom.Everyday my students would ask about you, and I would have to say I didn't know. How agonizing that was! We had no idea at the time it would be 10 long months before your parenst brought you home from Guatemala, and it was even longer before I got to hold you. You have enriched our lives with your laughter, energy, curiousity, love and joyousness.

I thank God everyday for you, your precious sister and your wonderful parents.

Happy Birthday, dear Tom.

Love, Nana

Standardized Tests - The New Child Abuse

We are starting another round of standardized tesing. There will be several more before the year is over. The kids are so tested out - already - it is almost impossible to get them to take them seriously. I can hardly take the tests seriously because they prove nothing. They do not make teachers accountable. They make the testing companies rich.

Someday we will look back at all this tesing and say that it is child abuse. Okay, I will say it then. All this tesing is abusive to children. It is simply too much. I can't for the life of me see how answering multiple choice questions makes kids better students (what kind of feedback do they get?), or, for that matter, does it make them better citizens of the world. It doesn't. It hasn't. It never will.

Coincidence

I have always been intrigued with coincidences. The definition of coincidence is, "a remarkable concurrence of events or circumstances without apparent causal connections." I seem to be rather alone in my delight of all things coincidental. Most people react to coincidences with a shrug, and pass it off as luck - either good or bad. I don't. I see coincidence as absolute irrefutable proof of God's sense of humor. One would think that with all the coincidences I have encountered I would be blase' about them, but each one causes me to suck in my breath and get goosebumps. I love 'em!

I had gone to the mall one evening to have my hair cut in one of the department store "salons". I always carry a book with me wherever I go and get a lot of reading done in those little chunks of time, but on this occasion the book I brought was a dud. I started to chat with the young women next to me as we waited our turn to be called.

She told me that she work in the cosmetics department. I asked her how she got her job and she said she had been a fashion merchandising major in college, and she worked in various departments in the store as part of her training. I asked her where she went to college, and to my surprise she graduated from the University of North Dakota. What a coincidence! That was where I got my degree, although I had graduated ten years before she did. I then asked her how she ended up at UND. Her dad was a professor there. What a coincidence, so was mine. Then I asked her where she lived. She laughed and said that it was rather hard to find her house but then she went on to explain the location. At that point I got a funny feeling in the pit of my stomach as she was still explaining the odd location of the house. She stopped, paused mid-sentence, gave me a long. hard look then said, "What's your dad's name?" I told her. Her mouth dropped. "We bought your dad's house!"

What a coincidence!

I bet you have some good coincidence stories, too!

Tales of Technology - Part I

My first cassette player was a Norelco. Seriously. It was a present for my 18th birthday when I was a freshman in college in (gulp) (I hate to admit this) ( does this make me an old fogey?) in 1966. Okay, I said it. I loved that cassette player. It was cool. I was cool. But I soon learned that technolgy almost always comes with a catch.

Clever me thought that instead of taking notes, I could just record my college lectures. How wrong could I have been? After amassing thousands of hours (only a slight exaggeration) of lectures I realized, to my horror, that I hadn't paid any attention in class and had no notes. All I had were some really bad tape recordings WHICH I STILL HAD TO LISTEN TO. I had to sit through the class twice, so to speak, and the second time the professor sounded as if he (they were almost always men back then) were in an accoustically-challenged drainage pipe. It was humiliating to have to beg for classmate's notes. "I thought you didn't need notes, Liz. You have that snazzy tape recorder." Grovel, grovel, grovel.

My worst tape recorder experince came later that year at the expense of Dave Brubeck, who was playing in Fargo ( yes, as in Fargo, North Dakota.) My future husband, Gary, got the tickets as a surprise becuase I was such a Brubeck fan. We had front row tickets in an intimate little theater. I would be sitting practically next to Dave Brubeck as he played! I was so excited, but things started to go downhill almost immediately. Of course, there was the obligatory blizzard which made driving from Grand Forks to Fargo hazardous. We didn't see the unfortunate dog who ran out in front of Gary's car. There are few sounds worse than the thud of a dog being hit. The dog somehow disappeared and could not be found. By then we were hardly in shape or the mood to enjoy a concert.

Before we had even left for the concert my beloved cassette player had failed me and was in the shop. The owner had been kind enough to loan me a portable reel-to-reel tape recorder. How was I to know that you shouldn't peek at it while you're recording? The tape exploded like projectile vomit out of the recorder as I scampered under Brubeck's piano trying to scoop up escaping audio tape that slithered around the floor like a deranged snake. Dave continued to play and smile. I still cringe in horror when I think of that night. The tapes have never been played. Maybe I can take them on the Antiques Roadshow.

Did I give up on technology? Heck no! More "Tales of Technology" to come.