Lesson from the Manger

Starkness/ Elaborateness

Brevity/Infinity

Shepherds/Kings

Silence/Symphonies

Contrasting the significance:

This God Child,

Birth by a girl.

Into a space

Still struggling for peace.

Dear God,

Guide me-

Like the star gazers.

Send me forth:

Let me proclaim,

The Great Mystery!

Posting for the Over 40 crowd: Warning this involves a colonscopy

Warning, this is not for the faint of heart.

How many of us enjoy this procedure? Did you say, "Yes?!"

Really, to quote Vizzini from Princess Bride, "INCONCEIVABLE."

If you said , "Yes," you may stop reading . For the rest of you......

After the lovely gallon drink prep, which by-the-way, may be avoided ( if your insurance company is compassionate), I was most eager to have the entire process behind me. Did I just write insurance company and compassionate in the same sentence? I must still be under the influence of the Propofol, which is a most excellent drug.

To demonstrate how any drug effects me, I came out of this drug induced nap singing, "On the Bright Side of the Road," by Van Morrison. My excellent recovery tent nurse said, " I knew that she had positively recovered when I heard her singing, and on key."

That's a first; no one has ever accused me of singing in-tune before. Sister Margerete, the choir director at Dominican High School, told me to lip sync our senior class song and allow the other to sing! After teaching at TARC, where I was commanded by Crystal to sing "Jingle Bells" in Walmart in July, I sing out loud all of the time; and especially in Walmart.

Let's get back to the effects of the Propofol. Not only did I sing, I made earrings out of the sticky heart monitor tabs, and asked Dr. Thomas to pose for a picture; how's that for a selfie? AND, I suggested that the nurses create a version of the "Twelve Days of Christmas" with the sound track provided by the gasses escaping from the recovery room tents!

Please see the attached photo; no it is not a picture of my perfect colon; because everything was perfect. It is a photo of my new earrings.

My dear sister friend, Laurie Abadie accompanied me to Ochsner where this procedure was done.  I had to be wheeled down to her car, because drugs effect me for quite some time.  We drove to the Oak Street Cafe to find something delicious for breakfast. We shared an excellent meal of chocolate pancakes and cheese grits, and we were serenaded by an H. L. Bourgeois Graduate, Katherina Boudreaux. Katherina plays a lyrical jazz-cajun piano, and sings, too!
Later she was joined by the "Duck " Man, his son and grandson. This colorful ensemble looked like they walked off of a Dr. John CD cover. I highly recommend the Oak Street Cafe, but not the procedure which proceeded it.

Visiting Iceland

A visit to Iceland allows me to grab a great big hold onto fresh air and clean, organic food and water.

Amazing how much your body can do when it inhales fresh air and clean healthy food. We walked on a glacier, rode Icelandic horses, climbed hills and walked on black volcanic beaches.

The geyser burst forth through the surface, and the geothermal heat beneath this island creates the heated water that runs through the pipes in our hotel.

The giant fig sitting in the front of this incredible salad demonstrates the effectiveness of the Icelandic greenhouses. The lamb that we ate came directly from the grass fed sheep that grazed upon the hills and steep slopes that we traveled past.

Helgi, our wonderful tour guide, brought us onto the beaches in this American made car. What a rush as we plowed over these dunes.

Looking Back Over a 35 Year Teaching Career

H.L. Bourgeois High School 1977

H.L. Bourgeois High School 40 Year Reunion

 After 35 plus years, returning to the scenes of my youthful teaching experience brings tears of joy to my aging eyes.  I seek out these opportunities because I like reflection. Steve Giroir wears his name tag proudly and our smiles tell a larger picture.

The photograph of me on the left side of this page tells a story in mismatched plaids and prints. After posting this picture of myself, I have come to realize that this is worth a thousands words. I am still playing the fool to many visible and invisible masquerades!

The colors are missing from the yearbook photo on the left, but I will fill in those missing mystique blues, and marauding purples with triumphs and failures. 

I was able to create and improvise learning opportunities all those years ago, because a teacher was allowed to respond to the needs of her students.

Here is one tiny example; these students were from a mixed rural-urban environment where hunting, farming, fishing, and trapping were taught to toddlers. When it was time to learn about colonial America in out senior high school American History class, I created a unit by having students research and learn about early cooking habits and techniques. They compared these to those of their ancestors, and we had a per-dawn simulation in the large front lawn of H.L. Bourgeois High School.

Yes, we decapitated live chickens, skinned animals, and cooked over an open pit which the students dug on the front lawn! 

Imagine pulling that off today! There would be so many legalities necessary that the activity would be impossible. We would have had to notify the parents, call out the fire department, the paramedics, and have stand-by emergency vehicles available. Not to mention the fact that an ax was involved!

How I miss those more carefree teaching days. Some of my ideas were wonderful; some not so great.
There was a time when I was teaching psychology and the big rival football game between South Terrebonne High culminated in a Spirit Week to rival all others. 

I was teaching about mob psychology and had the principal announce, only to my class, that the big pep rally had been cancelled. I requested that the principals all wait about 5 minutes, and than show up in my classroom.

Tempers were flaring and voices rising when the administrative team walked into the class.

The response was as predicted. The students and the principals all enjoyed the experience. This could never happen today; we would be too afraid of the fall out.

We simulated the Great Depression in Economics class, and some of the  students were jumping off of their desks. 

I taught Systematic Training for Effective Parenting to the psy students. This was NOT part of the curriculum; nor on any standardized tests, but, I had a student tell me at the reunion that he still uses these techniques with his staff and family!

Now, I call that success. We took risk, we made mistakes, and we all had fun while learning. The fool in the photo on the left is grateful for the opportunities.

Gracious Living in New Orleans

Gracious Living

 

So much has been written about this city built below sea level, but unless one engages in the day-to-day living here, you don't get it.

What is that IT? The heat, the gifts from the lakes and streams, and the lushness of the semi-tropics? Or is it the inspiration drawn with each labored breath?

Wonder around the muse named streets, linger after sunset on the levies, draw a long breath in of night blooming jasmine, and taste a Creole tomato straight from the vine; you might begin to understand.

Better yet, get to really know the people. They are warm, from the sun, and the heart. There is something here that causes the heart to pump deeper. It is not the spicy cuisine, nor the fried foods; it is a connection to the Mother. 

She has connected each one of us to the other. You can sense it pulsing through the old busted pipes under the broken streets. A rhythm that beats through the ground and keeps us marching toward the center. Sharing meals, celebrating vegetables, dancing in the streets, cheering on the visitors, urging others to laugh at themselves are the ways that Mother keeps us moving forward.

Even after the devastation know as Katrina; the people continue to embrace one another and our shared history.

Yes, we were criminals, prostitutes, and all sorts of adventurers from the beginning. It is precisely these rugged individuals who dared to live in the midst of such impossible geographic elements that birthed this city. These are the original sinners who forged this novel place at  29° 57' 15" N / 90° 4' 30" W.

More than a land mark, it is a place to taste and treasure.

Why we cannot discuss race

 

Dear Friends, colleagues, and former students (friends), I wanted to post this last week, but I refrained because I did not want to start a controversy. Today, after listening to NPR's "Fresh Air," and the conversation about the tragedy in South Carolina, I changed my mind.
We are either " part of the problem, or part of the solution."
Do you remember when we were in the classroom and a tender or controversial subject came up, that we stopped class, formed a circle, and we honestly engaged each other in a conversation?

I fear that we no longer can do this without raising alarms. There were no real taboo subjects only guidelines like:
You may not speak about someone who is not here to defend themselves.
What said in the room, stays in the room.
Mutual respect for all.
All listen.
One person speaks at a time.
Well, I fear that we have lost the art of genuine communication. We are no longer allowed to drift from the curriculum, and we may not honestly express our views as teachers. I recall a time when we discussed everything in an open circle, and when you asked, I shared my feeling about these topics. We kept it real, or so I thought.
Do you remember this?

Dog Bites Owner

Lesson from my Dachshund

Monday, my precious little mini bite my left hand so hard that I yelped in pain!

"Why do you bite the hand that feeds you?' I moaned and jerked my hand from his very old and very sharp teeth.

We were both stunned and hurt. Neither one meaning to hurt the other; yet, we were both licking our wounds. How do these things happen?

Radler had somehow hurt his neck. Years of jumping off of the sofas and running about attacking delivery men through the window glass have taken its toll. He was really wounded this time, peeing everywhere, and heavily medicated.

Drugs. They make for terrible judgment and quick response time.

My bandaged hand, and hurt feelings have lead me to a few days of wondering how I may bite the hand of the one who feeds me; God. 

I rattle around moaning about all of the injustices in the world, and daily forget to thank God for all of the wonderful gifts that I have been given.

Sorry God. Sorry, Radler.

Let's start anew. Let me hold out this swollen and sad paw in appreciation for all that I h ave been given.

Singing Street Car Driver

 Street Car Serenades

Riding the 5 P.M. Street car from Louisiana to Poydras on a Wednesday evening to catch the live Kermit Ruffin's concert at Lafayette Square, Laurie and I were witnesses to a pre-concert show.

Our car was packed when it arrived near Louisiana, and as we continued to upload at every stop, the standing room was scarce. Finally, before we reached Jackson, our car was officially too full.

There was displeasure along the line and much complaining as our jovial driver said, "I'm sorry,but there is another car behind me."

At the next stop he said," I am too full, would you like a song?"

I yelled,"Yes!"

He exuded great confidence as he bellowed," There is no room for you on the car."

What a great way to dissolve the palpable displeasure on the faces of the crowd.

Way to go driver of car number 198!

How to really make a difference about the foods that we eat?

Watching Food, Inc, on Pivot tv last night caused me to write letters to President Obama, and all of my congressional representatives asking them to stop these corporations from delivering unhealthy food!

How have we allowed our food supply and our internal organs to be realigned with false foods and unhealthy growth and slaughtering practices? What we eat, does make a  difference in how we respond to the world.

I taught from the book, The Jungle, years ago. It seems that we have forgotten our history and we have made that fatal mistake of returning to the faster, more economical way to get what we want.
Chicken with big breast that can not stand up? Pigs and cows butchered without regard for the safety of the workers? Exported government supported corn, that drives down the prices of other nations corn, resulting in poverty and immigration to the US. The people in Mexico cannot compete with cheat corn prices, so they cross the border! Who can blame them?

Wow, we have this thing backwards. I remember going into my grandmother's yard and feeding the chickens; retrieving the eggs from nests, and bringing slop to the pigs. I was horrified at my first butchering, but in retrospect, it was a much healthier way to eat.

Our small farmers are being robbed by corporations like Monsanto, Smithfield, and Tyson. What can one woman do?

Write, speak, stop buying and supporting these companies, and eat more grain feed beef.
I am taking the pledge during this Lent to stop consuming anything that is not grown in a healthy manner.

I think that I might lose some weight.

An Early Toast to Spring

On this almost Spring morning. I toast all of the early risers. Fill your cup, raise your glass, and celebrate the earth unfolding again!

Oh glorious tea cup,

Brimming with Indian spice:

You warm my hands

On chilly days;

Ward off the morning drowsiness,

Awaken the nasal passages.

Steamed-up

Breathe.

Inhaling ancient healing vapors,

United with all early morning risers,

And salute the day!

Help me to retain the pleasure,

With tomorrows sunrise.

There is no age limit on tutu wearing. Something about this glorious day, that invites one to put on a tutu and feathers and tap dance in the street.

It is carnival time again in New Orleans; and you can smell the excitement. It oozes from every door
and window; this spirit of celebration. Winter can no long hold the city in its tight grasp. Rain, or shine the parades roll, and the participants brave the elements to dance, shout, drink, and catch some throws.

Open your doors and windows; listen..... Do you hear a drum beat? Smell cotton candy?  Do you see tree beads?

Get out, dance a few steps in the gutters and let winter know that we are ready at the drop of a bead to Lassey les bon ton roulle.

We are all works of art

“Ogden After Dark”

Shoes on dancing feet,

The Ogden Museum’s Lionel Hampton Beat.

Smiling, clapping, eyes laughing;

Art meets ordinary artist;

The ones who don’t draw or paint,

Just tap to and fro, canvas free.

Their art is their tent:

Both eye and mind variety…

Unaware that their life’s work

Is daily glossed/washed,

Encrusted with, “Good mornings!”

They speak:

Every flower planted,

Ever y eager hand held,

Every note written,

Every kind word spoken;

“Walking Works of Art.”

Far removed from the canvas

Standing upright and sacred…

 Applause.……

6/28/08

Ogden After Dark: Musical Southern Art with music by String Bean

Rosalynn Rizzo-Moore