Theme, week #2: write about yourself in history

She lived in a blue house. The house had two bedrooms, a living room, a kitchen and a bathroom. The house leaned toward the ground and where the floorboards touched the earth they rotted. She was Sherrie, and my best friend.

I lived across the street in the yellow house up high on the knoll. It was a Gothic antique. It had five bedrooms, a living room, a family room, a dining room a kitchen and two bathrooms.l The house stood there a long time,it had secrets. Behind a panel under the stairs; runaway slaves hid for the day on their way up north along the Mississippi. My parents belonged in that house.

They lived next door and along the cul-de-sac in single story bungalows. Their houses had enough bedrooms, big televisions and kitchens filled with gadgets, cigarette smoke and empty coke bottles. They were the neighbors.

It was the mid 1960's, and the civil rights movement was going strong. Tensions and hatred between blacks and whites were fierce. I was unaware, I was seven and the outside world was not in. I had my friend, she was Sherrie and we played whenever we could, mostly at my house because her mom's boyfriend worked nights and slept all day. Sometimes I would play with them, the neighbor kids, but they were tough and yelled and sometimes swore.

My mom took my brother, sister and I to see a movie at a church. We sat on folding chairs, uncomfortable and tired. I jumped when Boo Radley saved Scout. The movie was To Kill a Mockingbird, and I didn't get it.

One summer day, Sherrie was in the city at her grandma's and I played with them. The sun had come out after a rain shower, or maybe we had used the sprinkler. The mud on my feet turned my flip-flops brown. They pointed and yelled, "Nigger lover, even your skin is turning black". I yelled back, "I am NOT" and ran inside. The outside world was creeping in.

Sometimes, Sherrie's mom would call us up, "Can one of you walk Sherrie to the store?" I'd put on my cowboy boots before I left the house. On those hot sultry days of summer, when everyone is bored and cranky, they would taunt us and throw rocks. My boots gave me courage and were weapon material. They had power, and I could yell "Go away or I'll kick you!" We'd reach the store, buy the milk or bread or can of beans, and walk the long way home. The outside world crept in.

I'd do anything for Sherrie, even though I was scared. She was my friend, and she was black.

Journal Entry #6

Monday,
A very long day at work. I was there from 6am to 6pm. My boss was out for a workshop and I filled in extra hours for her. Then the other staff person's daughter got sick and she had to leave. We did manage to find someone to come in and cover for her. The kids --oops, I am always told to say children-- were great today. At one point the entire group was sitting contentedly at the table using that play-dough we used last week. Then they wanted to hear a coffee-can story (instead of reading from a book, we tell the story using little props). So I did two of them. By then the day was half over. Lunch and naps followed, then the after-school children showed up and played board games. It was pretty quiet considering the teacher's weren't the usual ones.
The rain is really pelting against the windows, here. Some branches were down in my driveway and I had to get out and move one of them. It's a miserable night.
I hear my sump-pump running pretty steadily . I should go look and see how much water is in the cellar, but i can almost guess how much by the frequency of cycles of the pump turning on. I would rather be in denial, I think. I will look if it stops!
A call from my son yesterday. Sometimes he barely talks, but he was in a very talkative mood yesterday and we spent about 45 minutes on the phone, until his room-mate yelled that the game was on.
My daughter called today. While I plug away at an associate's degree, she is working on her master's in education. She needed some lesson ideas and some songs for preschoolers so asked me . We sang together and then wrote new words with the information she wanted to teach, which was winter animals.

Journal entry #5

Sunday afternoon,
This morning, I swapped the snow shoes for the X-country skis and took the loop to the waterfall. I discovered a set of coyote tracks--at least I think they were because of the determination of their course (dogs tend to meander). It followed my old trail and then went lopping off toward a marshy area near the stream. I did not follow, but kept to my already beaten trail. Somewhere I lost a mitten! I may decide to go back out and look for it in a bit. When I got home the laundry was ready to hang, I fixed the broken toilet seat, and cleaned the house. Really, I just thought about cleaning the house. Then I decided to work on assignments. Got some of them done. I have to figure what kind of BS will work for my other class. (Please don't anyone tell! It feels like another creative writing course, with a different agenda--how to dazzle the instructor!)
I called my sister again. This time I wanted to ask her some questions about our childhood, for the assignment. She helped to clarify a few of my thoughts and get things in chronological order, and get name places correct. I suppose I could have used those little white lies, and may still, to get the emphasis just right.
I feel the sun dipping closer to the horizon and the house is cooling. If I want to look for mitten now is the time.
Goodbye for now.

journal entry #4

I missed yesterday due to computer disfunction, and the disfunction of the operator. I turned on my computer yesterday morning to hear its motor rev up and then stop. I tried again, same thing. At that moment my significant other, who is a jack of all trades, (for this blog I will call him JAT) called. I told him what was going on. He said "put it somewhere really cold and I will bring my tools over tonight". I put it on the porch for the day. He spent the evening doing computer voodoo, and also backed up all my files. This morning we realized that the switch was sticking, so a little vaseline and I am all set again! When it comes to computers I am like a deer caught in the headlights, I stop moving, I stop thinking and I stop breathing. I might have been able to figure that out, but I panic and think the solution is way above me.

Yesterday was "one of those days". At work, I had to deal with fighting and arguments, and children biting and parents thinking they needed to continue the "punishment" at home. It doesn't matter how often we say, we have dealt with the issue, you don't need to again. We do appreciate support and consistency, but to be yipped at again for something that happened 5 hours ago doesn't do all that much good, especially for a three year old, who lives in the moment anyway.

At least Friday night is sauna night and my boss and i let off a lot of steam while we are steaming! Then I came home to my JAT and supper waiting, and a hero fixing my computer. It was a perfect ending for the day.

Beautiful morning this morning. I don't know where you all are, but here there was a glistening hoarfrost on the trees, vapor from the river. And on my drive into Belfast the west branch of the Marsh River wore a ribbon of hoarfrost along its edges. The bay also was shrouded. I am reminded of scenes from Dr Zhivago and other Russian literature, when I see that. I am often overwhelmed by the colors and textures of the natural world.

I did my usual Saturday morning routine, well....what I am trying as a new year's resolution. I go into work, and do the paper work that I haven't been able to do during the week when children are pulling on my sleeve, sneezing on my sleeve, or biting their peers. Or I am just having fun with them. I can't multi-task when people are around. So I got most of that done, I still have a bit to do, but I forgot those papers at the house, ugh.

I guess that is it for now, I would like to get outside to enjoy a little of the day before the sun goes down.

journal entry #3

Thursday: It actually was rather busy, but pleasant at work today. As I mentioned before, I work in child care. Every day is a new adventure, and you never know what is in store for you, even if you plan something. I got a group of children to help make play-dough, we got covered in flour, which was fun. For a while I tried to keep them from playing with it, but then thought, this is what they need, so.... Later, I got on all fours for a game of crab-soccer. We play two on two in one of the rooms. I have to say, I got a bit competitive.

Then home to feed the cat,fill the wood stove, eat supper, answer the phone and get assignments done. The moon was gorgeous when I pulled in my drive and stopped to get the mail. I contemplated turning the car lights off for the ride down the driveway, but then decided not to. But I did stand outside and lean against the car to look at it and the stars. I feel so small when I am looking at the stars. I find it a great way to slap the ego in the face when it gets too full of itself.

I have a funny incident to relate that happened yesterday afternoon. I was raking snow off the roof, when a small chunk of ice came flying toward my face. It hit me on the cheek, knocked one of the lenses out of my glasses that went sailing into the air (or so I imagined since by then I couldn't see), and landed in the snow! There I was, with only one good eye. I closed the lense-less eye and looked around. There in the new-fallen snow was a cut in the shape and curvature of an eyeglass lens. I took off my gloves and managed to find it, thank goodness. Guess that's it for today.

journal entry #2

First thought of the moment, DON'T PUSH ENTER WHEN YOU MEAN TO PUSH TAB! Luckily I could correct that mistake. I read a few of the classmate's journals this morning and can truely relate to the person who remarked about entering the computer age. I feel at a loss most of the time. Not only do I have this course and a blog, I have my first Blackboard class. Last night a classmate and I went to EMCC for our first ECE233 class and I had my first introduction to blackboard. Luckily M. was sitting next to me and helped me navigate the field. I was more confused navigating that then I was navigating the roads during the snow storm. She said I can e-mail her anytime that I need help.

As for last night in the storm. I found out this morning that the car accident that I grumbled about because it created a huge detour to get to Bangor caused the death of one of the people involved. What a selfish bitch I was. Somebody died, two people are in the hospital and who knows about the family and friends that are affected.

I did get that snow day that I wished for, I work at a child-care center and we close when public school closes. So this morning after breakfast and feeding my two remaining chickens,I read, did some writing and went for a snowshoe. It's a beautiful day out there. I worked up a sweat breaking a trail.

I have a constant battle with my 19 year old cat. He doesn't hear anymore, but he always knows when my lap gets horizontal and tries to climb up. I don't mind most of the time, but when the keyboard sits in my lap there isn't enough room. Someday my journal will say: "hfkjwqpofjvb,nvuihf", if it does you'll know it was my cat.

rc

Journal Entry #1
Tuesday: I just got home from a long drive from Belfast to Bangor and back again and then to my own home in Monroe. The roads were a mess and there were three accidents that we were aware of, or saw. My head aches from following the flashing orange lights of a plow for half an hour, and I want some supper. So why did I go? To class, what else. Thank gawd it is the only time I HAVE to go up this semester.

Work today was pretty quiet. Many of the children were not in, I think because of transportation and the snow. In the yoga class we paired the children up and did partner poses. It was fun, and it was so neat to see some of the less willing participants actually participate with a peer.

The other day I found a copy of one of my favorite books from my childhood at the local Goodwill. I finished reading it this morning before I went to work. It is the story of Miss Bianca, a mouse, that rescues people. Reading it will the eyes of an adult was rather interesting. There seemed to be a bit of hidden sexual innuendo, and unrequited love. I am not sure that I would choose to read it aloud to a child now, but maybe they wouldn't get it, like I hadn't when I was 10.

I'm tired and I think the supper I have warming up is ready. Hoping for a snow day tomorrow!

writer's autobigraphy, in 3 voices

#1.
Over the years, I have kept journals and written some poetry, and even a few articles for newsletters. Mainly though, I use writing as a means to process the events in my life, especially the turmoils. Writing helped me through the angst of teenage confusion and hormones. It helped me keep moving during an unsuccessful marriage, and other relationships. I admit, at one point after rereading my journals, I realized I was stuck in a never-ending spiral. I stopped writing except for a garden journal, where I kept track of seeds planted, the weather and the harvest (if I kept it going that long into the season), and I keep a journal when I go on an annual canoe trip with friends.
This course is the first course in my return to school that I actually look forward to. I am a returning student who is fulfilling the requirement to get a degree in ECE , as if my 28 years of experience has no meaning.

#2
You pull out a spiral-bound notebook and you write. You're hormones are raging and you know you love that boy down the street. He doesn't see you, you write of the agony, and sadness of the unrequitted love. Years later you buy another notebook and begin the story of the birth of your first child. You record a few months worth of motherhood and baby mlestones, then you go back to work and time and energy are lost. Your second child doesn't get a baby journal. The children grow, your marriage falls apart. You begin to write again, process your sorrows and questions. Your book shares your loneliness and gets you through the next year, the divorce and the next relationship. You feel insurmountably stuck and you stop writing, you do slowly move forward. You miss writing and you try a new tactic, a new book records only your vacations, an annual canoe trip with friends, you write about the challenges of weather and paddling. You also begin a garden journal to expand upon the little plot plan that you have always used. You write about the seeds planted, the weather, the harvest. It's a circle of events, a cycle. Do you ever move frorward?

#3
She felt lonely and misunderstood. She had noone to share the angst of adolescence. She bought a small spiral notebook and began to write, disjointed poems of love and hurt and pain. Writing became her solace and her friend. She grew older and away from that confusion. She got married, had children. As the children grew and needed her less and less, she discovered an empty place in her being. She bagan to write again to fill that space, to feel complete and whole, and to process the marriage that no longer filled her up. The words helped her move from that life to a new one where she began to feel strong and was able to move forward. When she no longer needed the words she stopped. Life moved on.

Did this really work?

I've read through the directions and done things twice, back-tracked and jumped forward. I hope I am on board here. The next post should be our first assignment.

RC