Wednesday, November 30, 2005
To Save My Life
The drive to downtown Seattle was quiet. My husband is my rock and he knows after all of these years that attempts to cheer me up fall flat. Darn it! I was so cold; I kept shivering. Dave turned up the defrost. It was supposed to snow in the night so I worried about driving, too. But it was wet, dark and drizzly and the normal 30 minute drive to Virginia Mason Medical Center was taking over an hour even though the teeny bit of snow had melted.
"I can't take this! My nerves---can you pull off the freeway into that Starbuck's? I have to go. Why did I drink that coffee?" I pleaded.
"Can you wait another 20 minutes? We are moving---a little." His voice was full of understanding rather than exasperation. The traffic report said the express lanes had an accident at Mercer that was being cleared. "Even with that, I think the express lanes would be faster," he offered.
"I can't get stuck in traffic! I am so uncomfortable; I hate this." He suggested we pull off at the University because his office is near an entrance to the express lanes. I could use the bathroom and the few minutes would open up I-5, hopefully. The plan worked and we zoomed the rest of the way to the medical center. My physical discomfort had been relieved but I was still shivering and terrified.
The Breast Imaging Center is on the fifth floor. At this hour of the morning, the people in the elevator seemed to be employees. All of them had covered latte cups in hand. Now I understand why they wait until they reach their destination to imbibe. The emotions and lives of so many are in these people's hands. "Can they see my fear? I wish I was just going to work. I hate this," I thought.
I had been here the week before and the year before and the year before that. My mammograms are never simple. They always call me back but usually, it is for cysts and they do an ultrasound and I'm out of there. But this time it was something new--breast calcifications. Damn it! My Mom's breast cancer was diagnosed when they called her back for calcifications. My plan was to avoid being called back so I signed up for a digital mammogram in hopes they could see things better with one try. The thing is, with digital, they see more and they wanted to digitally magnify these tiny white specs they saw.
The coolish receptionist directed me back to the dressing room. The hospital gowns were on a shelf---XXL and regular. Even the regular size wraps around me twice so I can't tie them; I have to hold it on myself. "It's so cold in here. It has been so cold in Seattle the last couple of days," I shivered. I stayed in the dressing booth to wait rather than the dressing room waiting area. I didn't feel like looking at anybody. Besides, I was saying the Lord's Prayer.
The wonderful mammogram technician escorted me into the digital room. She smelled like coffee so she must have waited, too. Geez! I hate this process. There is a shelf on which to place your breast and I don't have anything to put on a shelf. I was still shaking and I told her I was terrified.
"Oh, don't be terrified, dear. Look...," as she showed me a tiny white spot in the digital pictures of me. "Even in the worst case scenario, if this is a cancer, we have caught it so early that survival would be 100%. This is a blessing, actually. But 80% of the time these things are nothing even if they need to do a biopsy. Probably, the radiologist will simply want to take a look again in six months." My poor little right half was painfully squished for three more pictures.
The warm and smiling woman took me into another room to wait for an indeterminate amount of time while the radiologist studied the new pictures. I was so cold and still shaking; I wrapped my arms tightly around myself...to hold the gown. My thoughts went to prayer, "Please, God, no matter what, just give me the strength to handle anything." Having a little cancer caught early would probably not change my life much, but NO, dammit, I don't want even a little cancer. "Oh man! I hate this!" But it is the price we pay. One in eight women have to hear this news--had to sit in this same chair waiting for their verdict. The Lord's Prayer again and I'm having a little trouble focusing. I now understand why the Catholics use rosaries.
The poster on the wall had two beautiful smiling women embraced and presumably they were mother and daughter. It said "Life--more women are living full lives because mammograms save lives through early detection."
"Yea, right," I thought, "if I don't die of a heart attack first right here in this chair. I'm so cold." I don't ever want to come back here again--not even in six months. I can't take it. A kind woman had her arms around an older lady in a gown out in the hall.
"So, you have had a biopsy before and it was nothing?" The woman pulled her gown down a little as they walked and showed the scar. Even I could see it. Dammit, I don't even want a scar. I hate this. I did not want to be there. I wanted to go home and have a warm cup of coffee and look out the window. I wanted to hug my daughter like in the poster. My Mom survived all of this crap; so did my best friend in Pennsylvania. So do millions of women. It is a giant sisterhood but I do not want to be a part of it but I will, if I have to. "God, give me Peace." I was so uncomfortable. It was taking so long. I looked at my watch and it was only 9:30. We had arrived in the underground parking at 9. I thought about Dave. This is tough on men, too, because they lose their young brides.
My wonderful technician finally returned with a pink card in hand. My heart was pounding. "Benign! Benign!", she sang as she waved around the card. "This digital stuff is great. The magnification showed characteristics--a tulip or teacup effect--that are definitive of benign calcifications probably from cysts that used to be there." At that moment, the fire alarm went off and a voice came on the intercom that people should prepare to evacuate. I was not about to leave in that stupid gown.
My wonderful technician followed me into the dressing room. "And you don't even need to come back except, of course, for your routine mammogram next year!"
"Merry Christmas! What a great gift!" she proclaimed. I think about all of the women and maybe some today who won't get to hear those words.
"Merry Christmas to you, too. Merry Christmas!"
Out in the lobby, I give a thumbs up to my husband. He cracks a small smile. "Let's get out of here. The stupid elevators aren't working so we need to take the stairs," he remarked with exasperation as he grabbed my hand. The alarm and voice kept going and we rush down eight flights. I tried to explain the teacup effect. "They probably set someone on fire again during surgery!"
Yep, at that moment, it was ok to cheer me up....
...and I was laughing!
The drive to downtown Seattle was quiet. My husband is my rock and he knows after all of these years that attempts to cheer me up fall flat. Darn it! I was so cold; I kept shivering. Dave turned up the defrost. It was supposed to snow in the night so I worried about driving, too. But it was wet, dark and drizzly and the normal 30 minute drive to Virginia Mason Medical Center was taking over an hour even though the teeny bit of snow had melted.
"I can't take this! My nerves---can you pull off the freeway into that Starbuck's? I have to go. Why did I drink that coffee?" I pleaded.
"Can you wait another 20 minutes? We are moving---a little." His voice was full of understanding rather than exasperation. The traffic report said the express lanes had an accident at Mercer that was being cleared. "Even with that, I think the express lanes would be faster," he offered.
"I can't get stuck in traffic! I am so uncomfortable; I hate this." He suggested we pull off at the University because his office is near an entrance to the express lanes. I could use the bathroom and the few minutes would open up I-5, hopefully. The plan worked and we zoomed the rest of the way to the medical center. My physical discomfort had been relieved but I was still shivering and terrified.
The Breast Imaging Center is on the fifth floor. At this hour of the morning, the people in the elevator seemed to be employees. All of them had covered latte cups in hand. Now I understand why they wait until they reach their destination to imbibe. The emotions and lives of so many are in these people's hands. "Can they see my fear? I wish I was just going to work. I hate this," I thought.
I had been here the week before and the year before and the year before that. My mammograms are never simple. They always call me back but usually, it is for cysts and they do an ultrasound and I'm out of there. But this time it was something new--breast calcifications. Damn it! My Mom's breast cancer was diagnosed when they called her back for calcifications. My plan was to avoid being called back so I signed up for a digital mammogram in hopes they could see things better with one try. The thing is, with digital, they see more and they wanted to digitally magnify these tiny white specs they saw.
The coolish receptionist directed me back to the dressing room. The hospital gowns were on a shelf---XXL and regular. Even the regular size wraps around me twice so I can't tie them; I have to hold it on myself. "It's so cold in here. It has been so cold in Seattle the last couple of days," I shivered. I stayed in the dressing booth to wait rather than the dressing room waiting area. I didn't feel like looking at anybody. Besides, I was saying the Lord's Prayer.
The wonderful mammogram technician escorted me into the digital room. She smelled like coffee so she must have waited, too. Geez! I hate this process. There is a shelf on which to place your breast and I don't have anything to put on a shelf. I was still shaking and I told her I was terrified.
"Oh, don't be terrified, dear. Look...," as she showed me a tiny white spot in the digital pictures of me. "Even in the worst case scenario, if this is a cancer, we have caught it so early that survival would be 100%. This is a blessing, actually. But 80% of the time these things are nothing even if they need to do a biopsy. Probably, the radiologist will simply want to take a look again in six months." My poor little right half was painfully squished for three more pictures.
The warm and smiling woman took me into another room to wait for an indeterminate amount of time while the radiologist studied the new pictures. I was so cold and still shaking; I wrapped my arms tightly around myself...to hold the gown. My thoughts went to prayer, "Please, God, no matter what, just give me the strength to handle anything." Having a little cancer caught early would probably not change my life much, but NO, dammit, I don't want even a little cancer. "Oh man! I hate this!" But it is the price we pay. One in eight women have to hear this news--had to sit in this same chair waiting for their verdict. The Lord's Prayer again and I'm having a little trouble focusing. I now understand why the Catholics use rosaries.
The poster on the wall had two beautiful smiling women embraced and presumably they were mother and daughter. It said "Life--more women are living full lives because mammograms save lives through early detection."
"Yea, right," I thought, "if I don't die of a heart attack first right here in this chair. I'm so cold." I don't ever want to come back here again--not even in six months. I can't take it. A kind woman had her arms around an older lady in a gown out in the hall.
"So, you have had a biopsy before and it was nothing?" The woman pulled her gown down a little as they walked and showed the scar. Even I could see it. Dammit, I don't even want a scar. I hate this. I did not want to be there. I wanted to go home and have a warm cup of coffee and look out the window. I wanted to hug my daughter like in the poster. My Mom survived all of this crap; so did my best friend in Pennsylvania. So do millions of women. It is a giant sisterhood but I do not want to be a part of it but I will, if I have to. "God, give me Peace." I was so uncomfortable. It was taking so long. I looked at my watch and it was only 9:30. We had arrived in the underground parking at 9. I thought about Dave. This is tough on men, too, because they lose their young brides.
My wonderful technician finally returned with a pink card in hand. My heart was pounding. "Benign! Benign!", she sang as she waved around the card. "This digital stuff is great. The magnification showed characteristics--a tulip or teacup effect--that are definitive of benign calcifications probably from cysts that used to be there." At that moment, the fire alarm went off and a voice came on the intercom that people should prepare to evacuate. I was not about to leave in that stupid gown.
My wonderful technician followed me into the dressing room. "And you don't even need to come back except, of course, for your routine mammogram next year!"
"Merry Christmas! What a great gift!" she proclaimed. I think about all of the women and maybe some today who won't get to hear those words.
"Merry Christmas to you, too. Merry Christmas!"
Out in the lobby, I give a thumbs up to my husband. He cracks a small smile. "Let's get out of here. The stupid elevators aren't working so we need to take the stairs," he remarked with exasperation as he grabbed my hand. The alarm and voice kept going and we rush down eight flights. I tried to explain the teacup effect. "They probably set someone on fire again during surgery!"
Yep, at that moment, it was ok to cheer me up....
...and I was laughing!
// posted by Janet @ 7:45 AM
0 comments
Monday, November 28, 2005
Hoarfrost
Technically, this is the correct word and I like to say it, "hoarfrost"! Nobody ever uses this term anymore because it has been shortened to "frost". I think people do not like to say the "hoar" part and that is exactly why I like to say it. Mukilteo is covered with HOARFROST this morning. Sometimes, we get hoarfrost so thick that Lucas has been able to sled on it.
Apolo doesn't like hoarfrost. I am the first one up at 5:45 because along with breasfeeding my children when they were babies, I also fix them breakfast. Both activities are supposed to help with focus in school and good grades and believe me, it has worked with both of my kids. Anyway, at 5:45 AM, Apolo looked outside and refused to go out. At 6:30, we tried again. He sat in the hoarfrost for a minute and wanted right back in. His name is Apolo, for gosh sakes, after a person who spends his life on ICE.
Finally, at 8:30, I tried again. Apolo really hates to walk on hoarfrost. When I tell people that dogs can tiptoe, they do not believe me. This morning, however, I have photographic evidence that Apolo tiptoes. He could not hold it any longer without popping so he had to traverse the hoarfrost!
"Do I have to...do I really have to walk on the HOARFROST?"
Tiptoe through the HOARFROST
Technically, this is the correct word and I like to say it, "hoarfrost"! Nobody ever uses this term anymore because it has been shortened to "frost". I think people do not like to say the "hoar" part and that is exactly why I like to say it. Mukilteo is covered with HOARFROST this morning. Sometimes, we get hoarfrost so thick that Lucas has been able to sled on it.
Apolo doesn't like hoarfrost. I am the first one up at 5:45 because along with breasfeeding my children when they were babies, I also fix them breakfast. Both activities are supposed to help with focus in school and good grades and believe me, it has worked with both of my kids. Anyway, at 5:45 AM, Apolo looked outside and refused to go out. At 6:30, we tried again. He sat in the hoarfrost for a minute and wanted right back in. His name is Apolo, for gosh sakes, after a person who spends his life on ICE.
Finally, at 8:30, I tried again. Apolo really hates to walk on hoarfrost. When I tell people that dogs can tiptoe, they do not believe me. This morning, however, I have photographic evidence that Apolo tiptoes. He could not hold it any longer without popping so he had to traverse the hoarfrost!
"Do I have to...do I really have to walk on the HOARFROST?"
Tiptoe through the HOARFROST
// posted by Janet @ 8:25 AM
0 comments
Sunday, November 27, 2005
My Stupid Beloved Dog
As everybody knows, my Apolo, named after the Olympic Gold and Silver medal winning Seattle short track speedskater, is a Golden Retriever. Golden Retrievers are supposed to be right up there on the dog IQ scale. In my life, I have had six other Goldens and none of them have been quite as stupid as Apolo.
I read somewhere that if children are breastfed, their IQ's will be higher and the longer the better. I interpret this to mean that if a child isn't breasfed, then the child might be kind of dumb. Of course, this is not an absolute truth because my husband's mother thought breastfeeding was barbaric and sub-human so she refused. Yet, all three of her children turned out to be significantly smart.
But when it comes to dogs maybe this is true. Apolo was weaned earlier than puppies are supposed to be weaned. The owner of his mother explained it was a necessity because he wanted to bring the puppies over here to his sister's house where there was a bigger market than his small town in Eastern Washington. My theory is that the early weaning caused my Apolo to be not so bright. My husband has used the harsh word "retarded".
He is not retarded because he has figured out innumerable ways to outsmart me. He will go to the back door and asked to be let out if there is not room for him on the couch. If someone gets off of the couch to head to the back door, he will run back and hop onto the nice warm place where that someone was just sitting. He also refuses to come into the house unless he is offered a bite.
But the dumb things outnumber the smart things, I must admit. We have used a baby gate to keep him in the family room. I don't want him scratching up the wood floors in my entry and I do not want his dark golden hair all over my light living room carpet; and he still gets into things like our closets and garbage cans. My husband decided to buy a nicer and fancier pet gate out of an airline magazine. Rather than just a barrier, it actually has a little door that opens so we can walk through rather than climb over.
We discovered we could have avoided the expense of the new gate and probably used a string along the floor. With nothing in this doorway, Apolo does freely decide to explore the house usually ending up in Kaley's room to find one of her beloved stuffed bears. But, somehow, he hasn't figured out that if we leave the gate part of the new pet gate open, he could freely wander around and find shoes, socks, and slippers to his heart's content.
And you know what? I don't think he'll ever figure it out. So this is very handy for us--we can just leave it open and walk back and forth with no effort. I know he won't ever realize what he could do because after three and a half years, I have left his dog bisquits in an open box on the floor of the pantry. We don't close the pantry door unless we have company, but he has never figured out he could simply walk in there and help himself to as many doggie treats as he wanted if nobody was looking. Oh well, he is the most affectionate dog we have ever had even if he is not the sharpest crayon in the box.
"Can I come in there, please please??"
As everybody knows, my Apolo, named after the Olympic Gold and Silver medal winning Seattle short track speedskater, is a Golden Retriever. Golden Retrievers are supposed to be right up there on the dog IQ scale. In my life, I have had six other Goldens and none of them have been quite as stupid as Apolo.
I read somewhere that if children are breastfed, their IQ's will be higher and the longer the better. I interpret this to mean that if a child isn't breasfed, then the child might be kind of dumb. Of course, this is not an absolute truth because my husband's mother thought breastfeeding was barbaric and sub-human so she refused. Yet, all three of her children turned out to be significantly smart.
But when it comes to dogs maybe this is true. Apolo was weaned earlier than puppies are supposed to be weaned. The owner of his mother explained it was a necessity because he wanted to bring the puppies over here to his sister's house where there was a bigger market than his small town in Eastern Washington. My theory is that the early weaning caused my Apolo to be not so bright. My husband has used the harsh word "retarded".
He is not retarded because he has figured out innumerable ways to outsmart me. He will go to the back door and asked to be let out if there is not room for him on the couch. If someone gets off of the couch to head to the back door, he will run back and hop onto the nice warm place where that someone was just sitting. He also refuses to come into the house unless he is offered a bite.
But the dumb things outnumber the smart things, I must admit. We have used a baby gate to keep him in the family room. I don't want him scratching up the wood floors in my entry and I do not want his dark golden hair all over my light living room carpet; and he still gets into things like our closets and garbage cans. My husband decided to buy a nicer and fancier pet gate out of an airline magazine. Rather than just a barrier, it actually has a little door that opens so we can walk through rather than climb over.
We discovered we could have avoided the expense of the new gate and probably used a string along the floor. With nothing in this doorway, Apolo does freely decide to explore the house usually ending up in Kaley's room to find one of her beloved stuffed bears. But, somehow, he hasn't figured out that if we leave the gate part of the new pet gate open, he could freely wander around and find shoes, socks, and slippers to his heart's content.
And you know what? I don't think he'll ever figure it out. So this is very handy for us--we can just leave it open and walk back and forth with no effort. I know he won't ever realize what he could do because after three and a half years, I have left his dog bisquits in an open box on the floor of the pantry. We don't close the pantry door unless we have company, but he has never figured out he could simply walk in there and help himself to as many doggie treats as he wanted if nobody was looking. Oh well, he is the most affectionate dog we have ever had even if he is not the sharpest crayon in the box.
"Can I come in there, please please??"
// posted by Janet @ 1:12 PM
0 comments
Thursday, November 24, 2005
Finally, Finally, The Fog Has Rolled Away!
...And I have my two sets of binoculars in the kitchen next to the raw turkey and stuffing ingredients to watch for my orcas.....
...And my little pair in the bathroom because I'm drinking a lot of coffee this morning. We had the first frostiness on the grass this morning so it is cold and the coffee is sooo good!
...And, by the way, we had a little earthquake yesterday--4.1--epicenter north. I was in the bathroom and I felt it. I had been on a good walk and I thought it was my heartbeats, seriously. This is three earthquakes in a row now when I have been standing in the bathroom. What does this mean??
Five minutes ago!
And even a little sun on the snow!
Happy Fog-Free Thanksgiving!
...And I have my two sets of binoculars in the kitchen next to the raw turkey and stuffing ingredients to watch for my orcas.....
...And my little pair in the bathroom because I'm drinking a lot of coffee this morning. We had the first frostiness on the grass this morning so it is cold and the coffee is sooo good!
...And, by the way, we had a little earthquake yesterday--4.1--epicenter north. I was in the bathroom and I felt it. I had been on a good walk and I thought it was my heartbeats, seriously. This is three earthquakes in a row now when I have been standing in the bathroom. What does this mean??
Five minutes ago!
And even a little sun on the snow!
Happy Fog-Free Thanksgiving!
// posted by Janet @ 10:42 AM
0 comments
Wednesday, November 23, 2005
You Say Tomahto, I Say Tomato
We have been having fog everyday so I see nothing....nothing but whiteness out on the water. It kills me, too, because last year on Thanksgiving day we saw orcas on the glassy water. The J pod is out there because I received a report yesterday of a sighting off of the Edmonds ferry of orcas in the fog! But this is all I can see:
Rather than looking out the window, I am looking at the National Geographic Magazine. Language has always fascinated me as it does my son who is a linguistics major. Particularly, regional accents in the United States are fun to figure out. This month's National Geographic has a North American Dialects map (though it is only the U.S.). They have the entire western part of our country the same color from Nebraska to California and Montana to New Mexico--with the statement that because the West was settled so recently, no regional dialects have clearly developed. Thankfully, they have included part of Eastern Montana in with North Dakota and Minnesota. My nephew and his wife live in Glendive, MT and believe me, the natives there sound like they are from North Dakota.
So why does all of this interest me? My Dad was great with accents and he could tell jokes with a great German, British or Scottish accent. Of course, his parents were English. My Grandfather lost most of his English inflections but my Grandma never did. Furthermore, my Dad spent 9 months as a POW held by the Nazi's in Germany and Poland during WW2. Most of his prison mates were Brits and all of them had to pick up German as they were marched across the European countryside without food. Learning German was a means of survival. As a kid, my Dad taught my brother and me a little German and my Grandma always said "tomahto".
I also learned after living in Kansas City for five years and having in-laws who were from Kansas that Montanans do not sound anything like Kansans. In fact, when I was working as a law clerk during law school, in the days before fax machines, I delivered documents to law firms all over Kansas City. At that time, female law students were an anomaly (Ok, I was 25 and attractive) and I always found myself seated in some white guy lawyer's office being questioned teasingly about who I was, where I was from and why I was invading their turf. On one occasion, in an upper floor office of a Kansas City, MO high rise, an attorney asked me where I acquired my "interesting brogue".
"Me, I don't have an accent--YOU, on the other hand, have quite a drawl! And I am from Montana, thank you very much. Are the papers ready yet?"
I have also learned after living in the Puget Sound area for over 25 years, that we do not sound like Vancouverites and we do not always speak like Montanans. Differences in pronunciation have always caught my ear. My husband is oblivious to all of this. The kids and I discovered early on that though my husband is a brilliant man and he may some day find the genetic key to why some of us get cancer, he is language retarded. He could not hear that his parents had a significant Kansas drawl--like "yella" instead of "yellow". Luckily, my children take after my side of the family when it comes to language giftedness.
Amazingly, shock of the world--the map in National Geographic Magazine is wrong! The West is not uniform in its speech and I will provide examples:
1. Creek v. crik In Montana, it is crik and I still say crik except when it is part of a name of a city--like Mill Creek. Then I say creek.
2. Bag and tag I say these words with an "A" almost like the "a" in ate or page. I do not say bag with an "a" like in hat. In Seattle, people say the "a" like in hat and my kids actually say it like I do which caused confusion in phonics in school.
3. V-A-ncouver, C-A-nada or Vehncouver, Cehnada. This is hard to describe but we say the "a's" like in hat or can but they close them down so that they can spot an American very easily.
4. Out or about v. oot or aboot. Yes, they really do say this and Vancouver is only 120 miles away.
5. But then in Kansas, they open up the out so it is practically two syllables--"ahout". Likewise, we say "no" very curt and short.
6. Whaddya gonna do? v. What are you going to do? Montana v. Seattle
7. pop v. soda In Montana and here we use the word "pop" to refer to Coca cola or 7-UP or orange or sprite, etc. Soda means club soda which you mix with alcohol. Which reminds me, we say Ohrnge with a long "o" and one syllable. We do not say "Ah-range" as two syllables.
8. cot v. caught In Montana and here--there is no difference in the pronuncation of these two words--they are both "cot".
9. pin v. pen Montana and here--these two words are very distinct. One of my best high school friends, who grew up in Florida (pronounced Floor--ida by us and not Flahrida) said both of these words like pin.
10. In Seattle and Montana, if you are waiting to get an X-box for Christmas, you wait "IN" line. You don't get on line like they say east of here when describing how to line up.
Update--I thought of two more:
11. In Kansas City, it was pointed out to us early on that Missouri was pronounced Missouruh. I never changed my pronunciation because I grew up near the point the Missouri River has its beginnings. To me and to Puget Sounders, it is pronounced Missoureeee. My Dad's ashes are sprinkled at Beaver Crik on the Missoureee River, thank you!
12. measure and treasure The other day, Kaley and I noticed that Dave continues to say masure with a long "a" like in mate; likewise with trasure. We say mesure and tresure with a short "e" like in met. I'm not sure where that comes from--I think his parents.
National Geographic explained that regional dialects are actually becoming more distinct rather than more uniform. At one time, it was thought that with our mass media, we would all have the same speech. Interestingly, this is not happening. The map may be wrong about the West but I do agree with their premise.
As the years go by, my brother sounds more like a Montanan and I do not. Seattle, with its strong Asian influence, its proximity to a major Canadian city, and its isolation now that Snoqualmie is impassable, will continue to develop a distinctive brogue, I predict. I hear it in my daughter's speech which has very little Montana influence and they say it is the teen agers that cause the change.
We have been having fog everyday so I see nothing....nothing but whiteness out on the water. It kills me, too, because last year on Thanksgiving day we saw orcas on the glassy water. The J pod is out there because I received a report yesterday of a sighting off of the Edmonds ferry of orcas in the fog! But this is all I can see:
Rather than looking out the window, I am looking at the National Geographic Magazine. Language has always fascinated me as it does my son who is a linguistics major. Particularly, regional accents in the United States are fun to figure out. This month's National Geographic has a North American Dialects map (though it is only the U.S.). They have the entire western part of our country the same color from Nebraska to California and Montana to New Mexico--with the statement that because the West was settled so recently, no regional dialects have clearly developed. Thankfully, they have included part of Eastern Montana in with North Dakota and Minnesota. My nephew and his wife live in Glendive, MT and believe me, the natives there sound like they are from North Dakota.
So why does all of this interest me? My Dad was great with accents and he could tell jokes with a great German, British or Scottish accent. Of course, his parents were English. My Grandfather lost most of his English inflections but my Grandma never did. Furthermore, my Dad spent 9 months as a POW held by the Nazi's in Germany and Poland during WW2. Most of his prison mates were Brits and all of them had to pick up German as they were marched across the European countryside without food. Learning German was a means of survival. As a kid, my Dad taught my brother and me a little German and my Grandma always said "tomahto".
I also learned after living in Kansas City for five years and having in-laws who were from Kansas that Montanans do not sound anything like Kansans. In fact, when I was working as a law clerk during law school, in the days before fax machines, I delivered documents to law firms all over Kansas City. At that time, female law students were an anomaly (Ok, I was 25 and attractive) and I always found myself seated in some white guy lawyer's office being questioned teasingly about who I was, where I was from and why I was invading their turf. On one occasion, in an upper floor office of a Kansas City, MO high rise, an attorney asked me where I acquired my "interesting brogue".
"Me, I don't have an accent--YOU, on the other hand, have quite a drawl! And I am from Montana, thank you very much. Are the papers ready yet?"
I have also learned after living in the Puget Sound area for over 25 years, that we do not sound like Vancouverites and we do not always speak like Montanans. Differences in pronunciation have always caught my ear. My husband is oblivious to all of this. The kids and I discovered early on that though my husband is a brilliant man and he may some day find the genetic key to why some of us get cancer, he is language retarded. He could not hear that his parents had a significant Kansas drawl--like "yella" instead of "yellow". Luckily, my children take after my side of the family when it comes to language giftedness.
Amazingly, shock of the world--the map in National Geographic Magazine is wrong! The West is not uniform in its speech and I will provide examples:
1. Creek v. crik In Montana, it is crik and I still say crik except when it is part of a name of a city--like Mill Creek. Then I say creek.
2. Bag and tag I say these words with an "A" almost like the "a" in ate or page. I do not say bag with an "a" like in hat. In Seattle, people say the "a" like in hat and my kids actually say it like I do which caused confusion in phonics in school.
3. V-A-ncouver, C-A-nada or Vehncouver, Cehnada. This is hard to describe but we say the "a's" like in hat or can but they close them down so that they can spot an American very easily.
4. Out or about v. oot or aboot. Yes, they really do say this and Vancouver is only 120 miles away.
5. But then in Kansas, they open up the out so it is practically two syllables--"ahout". Likewise, we say "no" very curt and short.
6. Whaddya gonna do? v. What are you going to do? Montana v. Seattle
7. pop v. soda In Montana and here we use the word "pop" to refer to Coca cola or 7-UP or orange or sprite, etc. Soda means club soda which you mix with alcohol. Which reminds me, we say Ohrnge with a long "o" and one syllable. We do not say "Ah-range" as two syllables.
8. cot v. caught In Montana and here--there is no difference in the pronuncation of these two words--they are both "cot".
9. pin v. pen Montana and here--these two words are very distinct. One of my best high school friends, who grew up in Florida (pronounced Floor--ida by us and not Flahrida) said both of these words like pin.
10. In Seattle and Montana, if you are waiting to get an X-box for Christmas, you wait "IN" line. You don't get on line like they say east of here when describing how to line up.
Update--I thought of two more:
11. In Kansas City, it was pointed out to us early on that Missouri was pronounced Missouruh. I never changed my pronunciation because I grew up near the point the Missouri River has its beginnings. To me and to Puget Sounders, it is pronounced Missoureeee. My Dad's ashes are sprinkled at Beaver Crik on the Missoureee River, thank you!
12. measure and treasure The other day, Kaley and I noticed that Dave continues to say masure with a long "a" like in mate; likewise with trasure. We say mesure and tresure with a short "e" like in met. I'm not sure where that comes from--I think his parents.
National Geographic explained that regional dialects are actually becoming more distinct rather than more uniform. At one time, it was thought that with our mass media, we would all have the same speech. Interestingly, this is not happening. The map may be wrong about the West but I do agree with their premise.
As the years go by, my brother sounds more like a Montanan and I do not. Seattle, with its strong Asian influence, its proximity to a major Canadian city, and its isolation now that Snoqualmie is impassable, will continue to develop a distinctive brogue, I predict. I hear it in my daughter's speech which has very little Montana influence and they say it is the teen agers that cause the change.
// posted by Janet @ 7:24 AM
0 comments
Tuesday, November 22, 2005
The Day The President Was Shot
Little Janet was in the fifth grade at Ray Bjork Elementary School in Helena, Montana the day of the "Assassination". I clearly remember getting into a political argument on the playground with a boy named Rex three years before. I was in the second grade but I knew even then I was a Democrat. Rex liked Nixon but I liked Kennedy and we got into a shouting match right there by the merry-go-round. I wonder what ever happened to that boy--I should google him. He is probably being indicted for some sort of GOP shenanigans.
But then that terrible terrible day came three years later. My parents loved the Kennedys--they were the same generation--and Kennedy was so smart, handsome and exciting. His wife was magazine gorgeous and his children were darling. After WW2 and the Korean War, both of which my Dad had fought in, we were ready for a charismatic leader who would protect us from the rise of communism, establish the United States as a world power, and lay the foundation for a new era of peace. There was just so much hope. Eisenhower had been the president for all 8 years of my life and there wasn't anything wrong with him but I remember thinking that he was totally boring and banal. So along comes John F. Kennedy!
On a cold November day I walked home for lunch as usual but there was nothing usual about lunch that day. I walked in the back door off of the alley that ran between our house and the Victorians and saw my Mom at the ironing board in front of the TV with a terrible look on her face. I knew immediately that something awful had happened. She told me the President had been shot. "WHAT? Are you kidding?! No!! No!! No!! Please NO! Is he dead?"
"No, he is not dead but it's not good." A spark and glimmer of hope but I knew what guns could do to animals. My Mom was upset and I felt a profound devastation. The bottom of my little world had dropped out. How could something so horrible happen to someone so wonderful? Our President--my president elected in the first election I had any knowledge about. It didn't take much for me to cry--still doesn't.
I had to go back to school with a red nose and watery eyes. I wasn't the only one. The rest of the day and the week were devoted to this major historical event. In those days, it wasn't easy to have a TV in the classroom but we managed to get one. There were two or three channels but only channel 12 had very good reception. And we watched and we drew pictures and we colored them with crayons---me, a picture of the White House.
I have always said this was the moment that marked the beginning of my generation's discontent. The shock that this could happen made us question everything, and from this point, in a few short years, we faced the assassinations of two more great leaders and the Vietnam War. To top it all off we had the murders of college students by the National Guard at Kent State in 1970 and Watergate in 1972 and 1973. All of these horrific events were bookended between my 10th and 20th birthdays.
My small diary in those days did not have much room to write anything but obviously, I stayed up very late into the night on November 22, 1963. We evenually learned the beloved President was gone--tragically in an instant:
"Dear Diary, SNOW 12:30 AM November 22, 1963
President John F. Kennedy shot in head and neck--lived half an hour, died, (sad); Lyndon Johnson president. Looking for man, think they found him.
Dear Diary, snow, age 10 3/4, November 23, 1963
Lee Oswald charged for president's death. Kennedy's casket on same stand as Lincoln's 100 years ago. Jackie K. sad in church staring at alter her and husband gave. Family by casket in East room of White House.
Mom and Dad hunting. Not home yet. Now home, nothing.
Kennedy took to Rotunda.
Dear Diary, snow melting, age 10 3/4, November 24, 1963
Lee Oswald shot and killed by Jack Rubenstein.
Jim and Daddy went hunting, nothing.
Dear Diary, November 28, 1963, Thursday
Went to church for Thanksgiving."
And our hopes for a new era of peace were dashed and nothing was ever the same again.
Little Janet was in the fifth grade at Ray Bjork Elementary School in Helena, Montana the day of the "Assassination". I clearly remember getting into a political argument on the playground with a boy named Rex three years before. I was in the second grade but I knew even then I was a Democrat. Rex liked Nixon but I liked Kennedy and we got into a shouting match right there by the merry-go-round. I wonder what ever happened to that boy--I should google him. He is probably being indicted for some sort of GOP shenanigans.
But then that terrible terrible day came three years later. My parents loved the Kennedys--they were the same generation--and Kennedy was so smart, handsome and exciting. His wife was magazine gorgeous and his children were darling. After WW2 and the Korean War, both of which my Dad had fought in, we were ready for a charismatic leader who would protect us from the rise of communism, establish the United States as a world power, and lay the foundation for a new era of peace. There was just so much hope. Eisenhower had been the president for all 8 years of my life and there wasn't anything wrong with him but I remember thinking that he was totally boring and banal. So along comes John F. Kennedy!
On a cold November day I walked home for lunch as usual but there was nothing usual about lunch that day. I walked in the back door off of the alley that ran between our house and the Victorians and saw my Mom at the ironing board in front of the TV with a terrible look on her face. I knew immediately that something awful had happened. She told me the President had been shot. "WHAT? Are you kidding?! No!! No!! No!! Please NO! Is he dead?"
"No, he is not dead but it's not good." A spark and glimmer of hope but I knew what guns could do to animals. My Mom was upset and I felt a profound devastation. The bottom of my little world had dropped out. How could something so horrible happen to someone so wonderful? Our President--my president elected in the first election I had any knowledge about. It didn't take much for me to cry--still doesn't.
I had to go back to school with a red nose and watery eyes. I wasn't the only one. The rest of the day and the week were devoted to this major historical event. In those days, it wasn't easy to have a TV in the classroom but we managed to get one. There were two or three channels but only channel 12 had very good reception. And we watched and we drew pictures and we colored them with crayons---me, a picture of the White House.
I have always said this was the moment that marked the beginning of my generation's discontent. The shock that this could happen made us question everything, and from this point, in a few short years, we faced the assassinations of two more great leaders and the Vietnam War. To top it all off we had the murders of college students by the National Guard at Kent State in 1970 and Watergate in 1972 and 1973. All of these horrific events were bookended between my 10th and 20th birthdays.
My small diary in those days did not have much room to write anything but obviously, I stayed up very late into the night on November 22, 1963. We evenually learned the beloved President was gone--tragically in an instant:
"Dear Diary, SNOW 12:30 AM November 22, 1963
President John F. Kennedy shot in head and neck--lived half an hour, died, (sad); Lyndon Johnson president. Looking for man, think they found him.
Dear Diary, snow, age 10 3/4, November 23, 1963
Lee Oswald charged for president's death. Kennedy's casket on same stand as Lincoln's 100 years ago. Jackie K. sad in church staring at alter her and husband gave. Family by casket in East room of White House.
Mom and Dad hunting. Not home yet. Now home, nothing.
Kennedy took to Rotunda.
Dear Diary, snow melting, age 10 3/4, November 24, 1963
Lee Oswald shot and killed by Jack Rubenstein.
Jim and Daddy went hunting, nothing.
Dear Diary, November 28, 1963, Thursday
Went to church for Thanksgiving."
And our hopes for a new era of peace were dashed and nothing was ever the same again.
// posted by Janet @ 7:45 AM
0 comments
Monday, November 21, 2005
Over the Hills and Through the Woods
I have written before how many people in the Seattle area are from somewhere else. Our extended families do not live here. My son has told me that it has always seemed to him that everybody's Grandma lives in Spokane, on the other side of the state. Lots of Puget Sounders have Montana relatives as do we. We also have relatives in Spokane and Post Falls, Idaho. The Boeing plant right up the hill from me employs tons of engineers and it just so happens that Montana State University in Bozeman has decent engineering programs so the good students end up here. Add to this that many families here have kids in college at Central, Eastern, and Washington State Universities all of which are on the other side of the Cascades. And, of course, at Thanksgiving time, all of these folks need to travel on I-90 over Snoqualmie Pass which cuts through the Cascades to get to Mom and Dad's or Grandma's or Auntie's house.
Last year and the year before I would have apoplexy worrying about Lucas driving I-90 over seven mountain passes to get home for Thanksgiving or Christmas. This year I only need to worry about exploding dumpsters and cars because he is in France but I am glad I-90 is out of the picture. You see, nature is doing what nature does--its own thing. Last September, three young women were killed driving over I-90 when a refrigerator-sized rock tumbled off of the mountainside and smashed their car. Two weeks ago, an entire rockslide of huge boulders slid onto the highway closing the entire thing. At the moment, they are trying to stabilize the hillside so only one lane is open each way. Five hour delays and 30 mile back ups are expected over Thanksgiving weekend and they are asking us to stay home.
http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/html/traffic/2002628503_rockslide17m.html
The problem is the other east-west route is Highway 2 which is not even four lane. Stevens Pass can be more treacherous in bad weather and since it cannot accommodate the traffic I-90 can, there will probably be five hour delays there, too. So unless Grandma lives in California, Portland, or Vancouver BC along I-5, Thanksgiving travel is going to be miserable. Normally, Snoqualmie handles about 3000 cars and hour but now only about 800 are able to get through. In other words, the entire population of Helena, Montana travels over the hills and through the woods to Grandma's house per day over Thanksgiving.
http://www.heraldnet.com/stories/05/11/21/100loc_apass001.cfm
We learned long ago, even without rockslides, that staying put for Thanksgiving and Christmas works for us. In fact, airplane tickets to Montana are outrageously priced and blocked and we seriously can get to Paris with frequent flyer miles more easily than we can get to Montana.
So that is what we are going to do for Christmas---we are flying to Paris and we are taking Grandma with us. I just hope they quit blowing up cars in Paris by that time.
I have written before how many people in the Seattle area are from somewhere else. Our extended families do not live here. My son has told me that it has always seemed to him that everybody's Grandma lives in Spokane, on the other side of the state. Lots of Puget Sounders have Montana relatives as do we. We also have relatives in Spokane and Post Falls, Idaho. The Boeing plant right up the hill from me employs tons of engineers and it just so happens that Montana State University in Bozeman has decent engineering programs so the good students end up here. Add to this that many families here have kids in college at Central, Eastern, and Washington State Universities all of which are on the other side of the Cascades. And, of course, at Thanksgiving time, all of these folks need to travel on I-90 over Snoqualmie Pass which cuts through the Cascades to get to Mom and Dad's or Grandma's or Auntie's house.
Last year and the year before I would have apoplexy worrying about Lucas driving I-90 over seven mountain passes to get home for Thanksgiving or Christmas. This year I only need to worry about exploding dumpsters and cars because he is in France but I am glad I-90 is out of the picture. You see, nature is doing what nature does--its own thing. Last September, three young women were killed driving over I-90 when a refrigerator-sized rock tumbled off of the mountainside and smashed their car. Two weeks ago, an entire rockslide of huge boulders slid onto the highway closing the entire thing. At the moment, they are trying to stabilize the hillside so only one lane is open each way. Five hour delays and 30 mile back ups are expected over Thanksgiving weekend and they are asking us to stay home.
http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/html/traffic/2002628503_rockslide17m.html
The problem is the other east-west route is Highway 2 which is not even four lane. Stevens Pass can be more treacherous in bad weather and since it cannot accommodate the traffic I-90 can, there will probably be five hour delays there, too. So unless Grandma lives in California, Portland, or Vancouver BC along I-5, Thanksgiving travel is going to be miserable. Normally, Snoqualmie handles about 3000 cars and hour but now only about 800 are able to get through. In other words, the entire population of Helena, Montana travels over the hills and through the woods to Grandma's house per day over Thanksgiving.
http://www.heraldnet.com/stories/05/11/21/100loc_apass001.cfm
We learned long ago, even without rockslides, that staying put for Thanksgiving and Christmas works for us. In fact, airplane tickets to Montana are outrageously priced and blocked and we seriously can get to Paris with frequent flyer miles more easily than we can get to Montana.
So that is what we are going to do for Christmas---we are flying to Paris and we are taking Grandma with us. I just hope they quit blowing up cars in Paris by that time.
// posted by Janet @ 7:53 AM
0 comments
Friday, November 18, 2005
ONLY IN SEATTLE
Wow! I have not done my "Only in Seattle" for a while so here goes:
1. Only in Seattle would a conservative Navy town newspaper, the Everett Herald, laud the decision to place the Puget Sound orcas on the Endangered List. Ok, ok so this is not really Seattle but close. Their editorial in support yesterday was fabulous.
http://www.heraldnet.com/stories/05/11/17/100edi_editorial001.cfm
"The 88 or so fascinating and friendly orcas who make Puget Sound their home have finally been declared endangered....
We already warn pregnant women to limit the amount of fish they eat because of the level of contaminants in the fish. We can't warn the orcas not to eat polluted fish, but we can clean up the water, and stop dumping poisons into it, for the health of all species.....
The listing also means federal agencies, including the Navy, will have to review their work in the water. The Navy's sonar tests have come under fire as harmful to the massive mammals, which use their own "sonar," called echolocation....
The amazing Puget Sound orcas deserve no less than the full intent of the Endangered Species Act, not some polluted version."
HELLO--Navy aircraft carrier from my bathroom as I was changing into sweats on Wednesday this week. Hope none of those sailors had binocs.
2. Only in Seattle does job satisfaction include happiness with job duties but how about the setting and the surroundings??!
Roofers enjoying the view while on the job, Wednesday.
3. Only in Seattle do customers like the store clerks to be LESS helpful. There was an article in the paper the other day about the new trend and policy nationwide for store clerks to make contact with customers within 30 seconds of store entry and then to follow up with the particular customer several more times. The problem is this policy may work in the South but it doesn't work here. We are standoffish as I have written before. For example, Seattleites favor the REI approach. REI is Seattle based and when you walk in, someone may say "Hello" and that is it. But, if you then need help or advice and you ask for it, the knowledgeable clerks will hike to the ends of the earth for you.
Lucas and I have had this experience. We needed to restring part of his back pack. After a polite "Hello", we looked around and got some ideas and then we asked. The back pack savvy clerk knew exactly what we needed and what would work. He cut some cord for us, put it in a sack, gave directions on how to restring, and charged us nothing.
But yesterday, I went to Sephora, a skin care/perfume/hair product place. I knew what I was looking for but I was accosted by no less than four young ladies wanting to help within one minute of my entry. One even asked my name and told me hers and led me over to this little stand to show me her line of products and proceeded to daub some stuff on my hand. She did tell me I had pretty skin but I am certain that is the line. Yep, I'm Seattle skeptical. Finally, another young woman gave me a free sample of what I was intending to buy. I ran out without making a purchase explaining with a semi-lie that I am allergic and must use samples first. I have no intention of going back. Certainly, these lovely women were doing what they were told but they totally invaded my Seattle space.
Sephora must not be Seattle-based.
4. And finally, Only in Seattle would I not regret going with my husband to a special banquet because I fixed and ate dinner with my daughter with this view. Actually, I do sort of wish I'd gone with him to the "2005 World Citizen Award Dinner" honoring Dr. Bill Foege.
According to Bill and Melinda Gates, " [He] is the rare visionary who is also a brilliant tactician. He has shown the world that improving global health is both a moral imperative and an achievable goal." Bill Gates, Sr. was the host and it was the same crowd of people--the best and brightest of Seattle--who tend to go to these things. I didn't go because it would have cost an extra $125 for my dinner and Kaley would have been alone. It is not that I like to hang out with this social crowd to be uppity but these are truly fascinating people to eat dinner with. It was an honor for Dave to get to go so oh well, I got to see this last night:
Toast the Sunset--Thursday evening
Wow! I have not done my "Only in Seattle" for a while so here goes:
1. Only in Seattle would a conservative Navy town newspaper, the Everett Herald, laud the decision to place the Puget Sound orcas on the Endangered List. Ok, ok so this is not really Seattle but close. Their editorial in support yesterday was fabulous.
http://www.heraldnet.com/stories/05/11/17/100edi_editorial001.cfm
"The 88 or so fascinating and friendly orcas who make Puget Sound their home have finally been declared endangered....
We already warn pregnant women to limit the amount of fish they eat because of the level of contaminants in the fish. We can't warn the orcas not to eat polluted fish, but we can clean up the water, and stop dumping poisons into it, for the health of all species.....
The listing also means federal agencies, including the Navy, will have to review their work in the water. The Navy's sonar tests have come under fire as harmful to the massive mammals, which use their own "sonar," called echolocation....
The amazing Puget Sound orcas deserve no less than the full intent of the Endangered Species Act, not some polluted version."
HELLO--Navy aircraft carrier from my bathroom as I was changing into sweats on Wednesday this week. Hope none of those sailors had binocs.
2. Only in Seattle does job satisfaction include happiness with job duties but how about the setting and the surroundings??!
Roofers enjoying the view while on the job, Wednesday.
3. Only in Seattle do customers like the store clerks to be LESS helpful. There was an article in the paper the other day about the new trend and policy nationwide for store clerks to make contact with customers within 30 seconds of store entry and then to follow up with the particular customer several more times. The problem is this policy may work in the South but it doesn't work here. We are standoffish as I have written before. For example, Seattleites favor the REI approach. REI is Seattle based and when you walk in, someone may say "Hello" and that is it. But, if you then need help or advice and you ask for it, the knowledgeable clerks will hike to the ends of the earth for you.
Lucas and I have had this experience. We needed to restring part of his back pack. After a polite "Hello", we looked around and got some ideas and then we asked. The back pack savvy clerk knew exactly what we needed and what would work. He cut some cord for us, put it in a sack, gave directions on how to restring, and charged us nothing.
But yesterday, I went to Sephora, a skin care/perfume/hair product place. I knew what I was looking for but I was accosted by no less than four young ladies wanting to help within one minute of my entry. One even asked my name and told me hers and led me over to this little stand to show me her line of products and proceeded to daub some stuff on my hand. She did tell me I had pretty skin but I am certain that is the line. Yep, I'm Seattle skeptical. Finally, another young woman gave me a free sample of what I was intending to buy. I ran out without making a purchase explaining with a semi-lie that I am allergic and must use samples first. I have no intention of going back. Certainly, these lovely women were doing what they were told but they totally invaded my Seattle space.
Sephora must not be Seattle-based.
4. And finally, Only in Seattle would I not regret going with my husband to a special banquet because I fixed and ate dinner with my daughter with this view. Actually, I do sort of wish I'd gone with him to the "2005 World Citizen Award Dinner" honoring Dr. Bill Foege.
According to Bill and Melinda Gates, " [He] is the rare visionary who is also a brilliant tactician. He has shown the world that improving global health is both a moral imperative and an achievable goal." Bill Gates, Sr. was the host and it was the same crowd of people--the best and brightest of Seattle--who tend to go to these things. I didn't go because it would have cost an extra $125 for my dinner and Kaley would have been alone. It is not that I like to hang out with this social crowd to be uppity but these are truly fascinating people to eat dinner with. It was an honor for Dave to get to go so oh well, I got to see this last night:
Toast the Sunset--Thursday evening
// posted by Janet @ 8:09 AM
0 comments
Wednesday, November 16, 2005
Great News!!
Everybody knows I love orcas. Sometimes I think if I had a do over of my life, I would have gone to grad school to study marine mammal biology. But, otherwise, I wouldn't change a thing and this is a great hobby anyway.
There is this car commercial on TV where this woman is looking out with binoculars and she says, "ORCA!" My children laugh and laugh at that--"There's MOM!" Geez! She is even dressed like me.
Yesterday, the federal government actually did something right. Wow! These days I rarely make a comment like that. Of course, I knew about this news hours before it hit the media because of my Orca Sighting Network membership. The big front page headlines in all three of my papers today and the lead story on the local TV stations last night was "Feds Make Dramatic Move to Save Orcas" or "Local Orcas Listed as Endangered".
http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/PDF/frontpage.pdf
With the above link you can see how important the news is to us that our local orca pods are now officially listed as "Endangered Species" under the Endangered Species Act. Another endangered species around here called the "republican" would not dare speak out against this and in all fairness, they are supportive as well. You see, such designation helps us protect the pods which have essentially become the wild pets of the Seattle area to keep them from dying off and to help them increase their numbers. The designation is limited to our local pods of which there are a total of 88 individual whales--yes, that is all we have left. Worldwide, they are not doing so badly which has kept our local pods from being listed as endangered. Some good lawyering and sciencing managed to convince the feds that our local residents are not genetically related to the ocean going transients worldwide. As such, they need to be considered a group all unto themselves.
So what does this mean? It means we can tell Alaska Senator Ted Stevens (R) to go take a hike and forget about opening up Puget Sound to more oil tanker traffic which has been illegal since 1977. It means we can continue efforts to preserve and nurture our wild salmon which is orca food. It means we can limit development and logging that affects salmon runs. It means we can stop deep water projects such as a proposed natural gas pipeline under Puget Sound. It means we can keep the Navy from doing sonar tests around here. The bottom line is we can keep our beautiful Puget Sound like it is now and improve it where we do have some pollution issues.
Orca vital stats
Size: Males average 27 feet long; females average 24 feet.
Weight: Males average 9,000 pounds; females, 7,000 pounds.
Vital orca stats Maximum age: Males live into their 60s; females live into their 90s.
Birth rate: Beginning between ages 12 and 16, a female can have about five calves in 25 years.
Primary food: Salmon
Population, local pods: 88
Range: Georgia Strait to Puget Sound
Local orcas taken for aquariums: At least 47, in the 1960s and 1970s
http://www.heraldnet.com/stories/05/11/16/100loc_orcas001.cfm
http://seattlepi.nwsource.com/local/248515_orcas16.html
To me this is good stewardship of our earth and all of the inhabitants including us. Keeping Puget Sound healthy for orcas and salmon not only benefits the non-humans, we humans benefit as well. But who are we to say we are better than the orcas anyway; we know so little about them? For example, in my Whale Museum newsletter there was a story about the K-pod. K-31, also known as Tatoosh, was separated from his pod for several days last July. L-pod was nearby but failed to acknowledge him. After reuniting with his K-pod a few days later, he remained a half mile behind for several more days before being "allowed" back in.
Whoa!! I have explained before that orca pods are matriarchal even though the females are much smaller. What in the world did Tatoosh do to be ostracized like that; I'd like to know?! His Mom and sisters and aunts and wife must have been really mad at him for some good reason.
Yep, human beings have a lot to learn from these fascinating wonderful creatures. And now, we can protect them to the fullest extent of the law. Yes! Indeed!
Everybody knows I love orcas. Sometimes I think if I had a do over of my life, I would have gone to grad school to study marine mammal biology. But, otherwise, I wouldn't change a thing and this is a great hobby anyway.
There is this car commercial on TV where this woman is looking out with binoculars and she says, "ORCA!" My children laugh and laugh at that--"There's MOM!" Geez! She is even dressed like me.
Yesterday, the federal government actually did something right. Wow! These days I rarely make a comment like that. Of course, I knew about this news hours before it hit the media because of my Orca Sighting Network membership. The big front page headlines in all three of my papers today and the lead story on the local TV stations last night was "Feds Make Dramatic Move to Save Orcas" or "Local Orcas Listed as Endangered".
http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/PDF/frontpage.pdf
With the above link you can see how important the news is to us that our local orca pods are now officially listed as "Endangered Species" under the Endangered Species Act. Another endangered species around here called the "republican" would not dare speak out against this and in all fairness, they are supportive as well. You see, such designation helps us protect the pods which have essentially become the wild pets of the Seattle area to keep them from dying off and to help them increase their numbers. The designation is limited to our local pods of which there are a total of 88 individual whales--yes, that is all we have left. Worldwide, they are not doing so badly which has kept our local pods from being listed as endangered. Some good lawyering and sciencing managed to convince the feds that our local residents are not genetically related to the ocean going transients worldwide. As such, they need to be considered a group all unto themselves.
So what does this mean? It means we can tell Alaska Senator Ted Stevens (R) to go take a hike and forget about opening up Puget Sound to more oil tanker traffic which has been illegal since 1977. It means we can continue efforts to preserve and nurture our wild salmon which is orca food. It means we can limit development and logging that affects salmon runs. It means we can stop deep water projects such as a proposed natural gas pipeline under Puget Sound. It means we can keep the Navy from doing sonar tests around here. The bottom line is we can keep our beautiful Puget Sound like it is now and improve it where we do have some pollution issues.
Orca vital stats
Size: Males average 27 feet long; females average 24 feet.
Weight: Males average 9,000 pounds; females, 7,000 pounds.
Vital orca stats Maximum age: Males live into their 60s; females live into their 90s.
Birth rate: Beginning between ages 12 and 16, a female can have about five calves in 25 years.
Primary food: Salmon
Population, local pods: 88
Range: Georgia Strait to Puget Sound
Local orcas taken for aquariums: At least 47, in the 1960s and 1970s
http://www.heraldnet.com/stories/05/11/16/100loc_orcas001.cfm
http://seattlepi.nwsource.com/local/248515_orcas16.html
To me this is good stewardship of our earth and all of the inhabitants including us. Keeping Puget Sound healthy for orcas and salmon not only benefits the non-humans, we humans benefit as well. But who are we to say we are better than the orcas anyway; we know so little about them? For example, in my Whale Museum newsletter there was a story about the K-pod. K-31, also known as Tatoosh, was separated from his pod for several days last July. L-pod was nearby but failed to acknowledge him. After reuniting with his K-pod a few days later, he remained a half mile behind for several more days before being "allowed" back in.
Whoa!! I have explained before that orca pods are matriarchal even though the females are much smaller. What in the world did Tatoosh do to be ostracized like that; I'd like to know?! His Mom and sisters and aunts and wife must have been really mad at him for some good reason.
Yep, human beings have a lot to learn from these fascinating wonderful creatures. And now, we can protect them to the fullest extent of the law. Yes! Indeed!
// posted by Janet @ 1:08 PM
0 comments
Tuesday, November 15, 2005
Some Facts
The front page of the Seattle Times today had an article that walking on a regular basis adds years to your life not to mention that it improves health during life as well. Of course, I have to walk because I have a three and a half year old wild and crazy Golden Retriever who becomes terribly naughty in the evenings if he doesn't get his walk. I wish my husband would walk more but he leaves in the dark and gets home in the dark so walking Apolo becomes my job during the day. Understand we have a good sized completely fenced yard but my big baby puppy does not like to be outside unless we are with him. As a result, my dog is a couch potato unless we walk.
Hubby tends to be a little couch potato-ish now that he has found Google Earth. But he has found some interesting things:
1. Our lot is twice and big as our yard. Behind our back fence is a steep ravine and we own the land part way down into the ravine. Because of the steepness and the blackberry bushes, we have never seen or stepped on half of our property. I do believe Lucas has because he came in the house one day all muddy and scratched up from trying to explore.
2. I walk 1 to 3 miles five days a week and they vary from 20 to 50 minutes. I carry a sack of poop for three quarters of the distance usually in a tan QFC plastic grocery bag.
3. The elevation of our house is 100 feet and the elevation of our old house six blocks up the hill is 381.
4. We can see 16 miles south down the water to Bainbridge Island--on a clear day in the winter. We were very surprised at this; we noticed the sun shining on some houses out there and Google Earth revealed they were on a Bainbridge beach 16 miles southwest.
5. We see about the same distance north past Camano and Hat Islands.
6. Today, Apolo and I walked for 50 minutes from 100 feet above sea level to 400 feet above sea level and back again.
The middle of the Olympics from 400 feet above sea level this morning.
The southern end of the Olympics from 100 feet above sea level yesterday afternoon.
The front page of the Seattle Times today had an article that walking on a regular basis adds years to your life not to mention that it improves health during life as well. Of course, I have to walk because I have a three and a half year old wild and crazy Golden Retriever who becomes terribly naughty in the evenings if he doesn't get his walk. I wish my husband would walk more but he leaves in the dark and gets home in the dark so walking Apolo becomes my job during the day. Understand we have a good sized completely fenced yard but my big baby puppy does not like to be outside unless we are with him. As a result, my dog is a couch potato unless we walk.
Hubby tends to be a little couch potato-ish now that he has found Google Earth. But he has found some interesting things:
1. Our lot is twice and big as our yard. Behind our back fence is a steep ravine and we own the land part way down into the ravine. Because of the steepness and the blackberry bushes, we have never seen or stepped on half of our property. I do believe Lucas has because he came in the house one day all muddy and scratched up from trying to explore.
2. I walk 1 to 3 miles five days a week and they vary from 20 to 50 minutes. I carry a sack of poop for three quarters of the distance usually in a tan QFC plastic grocery bag.
3. The elevation of our house is 100 feet and the elevation of our old house six blocks up the hill is 381.
4. We can see 16 miles south down the water to Bainbridge Island--on a clear day in the winter. We were very surprised at this; we noticed the sun shining on some houses out there and Google Earth revealed they were on a Bainbridge beach 16 miles southwest.
5. We see about the same distance north past Camano and Hat Islands.
6. Today, Apolo and I walked for 50 minutes from 100 feet above sea level to 400 feet above sea level and back again.
The middle of the Olympics from 400 feet above sea level this morning.
The southern end of the Olympics from 100 feet above sea level yesterday afternoon.
// posted by Janet @ 1:00 PM
0 comments
Monday, November 14, 2005
Ten Reasons Why I Like My Husband
1. Because he loves to watch Boston Legal with me and he laughs out loud!
2. Because he claims he is not smart and his success has been an accident. He is now fourth down from the president of the UW and believe me, it is no accident--this guy could do a rubic's cube back in the day faster than you could say "rubic's cube"!
3. Because he backs me up when our daughter is frustrated with us. According to her, we are the stupidest people on this earth but at least we are stupid together. She claims it is tough living in a house where she is the only one NOT getting mail from AARP; she misses her bro.
4. Because he cooked all weekend and cleaned up the kitchen---herb crusted rack of lamb and ginger glazed salmon and chocolate chip pancakes and ginger/chocolate drizzled pears and we did not have company. Not to mention artichokes, spinach-strawberry salad with raspberry vinagrette, and long grain wild rice.
5. Because he has finally decided to take steps so as not to leave me a young widow like my Mom. The latest scientific research discussed by scientist him and his doctor brother reveals a combination of various vitamins in addition to diet and exercise and lipitor will help--even though I have been telling him the same thing for years.
6. Because he is willing to make a deal with me that if a) he doesn't lose 20 lbs. or b) if the new exercise bike goes unused for 30 days, I put it on e-bay. I say if my 77 year old Mom can walk her dog up on Mount Helena three days a week--even in a Montana winter, we can walk our dog more than that in Puget Sound winter. We don't need an exercise bike messing up my house decor.
7. Because he figured out why the porch lights and door bell blew a fuse and quit working at 5 PM on Halloween and it wasn't ghosts like I thought. And he fixed it.
8. Because he lets Apolo climb up on the couch with him when he reads the Sunday paper.
9. Because he doesn't get mad at me when I kick him in the night when he snores.
10. Because he thinks I am beautiful.
1. Because he loves to watch Boston Legal with me and he laughs out loud!
2. Because he claims he is not smart and his success has been an accident. He is now fourth down from the president of the UW and believe me, it is no accident--this guy could do a rubic's cube back in the day faster than you could say "rubic's cube"!
3. Because he backs me up when our daughter is frustrated with us. According to her, we are the stupidest people on this earth but at least we are stupid together. She claims it is tough living in a house where she is the only one NOT getting mail from AARP; she misses her bro.
4. Because he cooked all weekend and cleaned up the kitchen---herb crusted rack of lamb and ginger glazed salmon and chocolate chip pancakes and ginger/chocolate drizzled pears and we did not have company. Not to mention artichokes, spinach-strawberry salad with raspberry vinagrette, and long grain wild rice.
5. Because he has finally decided to take steps so as not to leave me a young widow like my Mom. The latest scientific research discussed by scientist him and his doctor brother reveals a combination of various vitamins in addition to diet and exercise and lipitor will help--even though I have been telling him the same thing for years.
6. Because he is willing to make a deal with me that if a) he doesn't lose 20 lbs. or b) if the new exercise bike goes unused for 30 days, I put it on e-bay. I say if my 77 year old Mom can walk her dog up on Mount Helena three days a week--even in a Montana winter, we can walk our dog more than that in Puget Sound winter. We don't need an exercise bike messing up my house decor.
7. Because he figured out why the porch lights and door bell blew a fuse and quit working at 5 PM on Halloween and it wasn't ghosts like I thought. And he fixed it.
8. Because he lets Apolo climb up on the couch with him when he reads the Sunday paper.
9. Because he doesn't get mad at me when I kick him in the night when he snores.
10. Because he thinks I am beautiful.
// posted by Janet @ 7:44 AM
0 comments
Friday, November 11, 2005
Tough to Spot
According to the Orca Sighting Network, the orcas have been spotted on this side of Whidbey between the Mukilteo and Edmonds ferries. OK.....this means right out there BUT it drives a person crazy looking for whales when all you can see are whitecaps. Please a big black fin reveal itself!!
According to the Orca Sighting Network, the orcas have been spotted on this side of Whidbey between the Mukilteo and Edmonds ferries. OK.....this means right out there BUT it drives a person crazy looking for whales when all you can see are whitecaps. Please a big black fin reveal itself!!
// posted by Janet @ 9:20 AM
0 comments
Wednesday, November 09, 2005
October Sunset in November?? Hey, No Complaint
just a few moments ago
I managed to get a sample of the overall color--the whole sky was ablaze
just a few moments ago
I managed to get a sample of the overall color--the whole sky was ablaze
// posted by Janet @ 5:29 PM
0 comments
Kaley and her Friends
One of the things I like about living in the Seattle area is that the kids are becoming more and more mixed up. I remember my Dad telling me that racism will disappear with intermarriage between ethnic groups to the point that we are all everything. Unfortunately, we will find something else to fear and hate when that happens probably, but I think he was right. Kamiak high school is not as diverse as it should be. Mariner High School on the other side of the district is more so. But compared to when I was in high school, Kamiak has a lot of ethnicity.
Kaley and her friends took the following pictures on Halloween when her friends were here making cupcakes and they made me smile. Her friends are all mixed up. Below is African-American, Peruvian, Russian, Asian, German Gypsy, and English and nobody is whole anything. I love it.
And the German Gypsy in the top photo is Kaley. Aren't they beautiful?
One of the things I like about living in the Seattle area is that the kids are becoming more and more mixed up. I remember my Dad telling me that racism will disappear with intermarriage between ethnic groups to the point that we are all everything. Unfortunately, we will find something else to fear and hate when that happens probably, but I think he was right. Kamiak high school is not as diverse as it should be. Mariner High School on the other side of the district is more so. But compared to when I was in high school, Kamiak has a lot of ethnicity.
Kaley and her friends took the following pictures on Halloween when her friends were here making cupcakes and they made me smile. Her friends are all mixed up. Below is African-American, Peruvian, Russian, Asian, German Gypsy, and English and nobody is whole anything. I love it.
And the German Gypsy in the top photo is Kaley. Aren't they beautiful?
// posted by Janet @ 1:35 PM
0 comments
Kent
Today in the Seattle Times/Snohomish edition there was a wonderful article about gay teens. One of the things I am most proud about is my children's accepting and loving attitude towards others and particularly their attitude towards gay teens. Yesterday, my daughter came home from school upset because a boy in her government class said he'd be in favor of strict laws pertaining to gays because in his words, "I don't want more gay people running around."
Kaley thought he was joking and when she realized he was serious, she was stunned at the hateful attitude. She felt this statement was a personal insult to her friends who this kid had never met. I told her she had just come face to face with prejudice and it is ugly. The attitude is no different than back in the fifties and sixties when people were fearful of blacks moving into their neighborhoods. I specifically remember my father-in-law, who grew up in southern Kansas, telling me in 1975 that if he went into a restaurant where a black family was being served, he would feel sick and uncomfortable eating in the same room with them. He didn't want more black people running around in his world. This was in insult to me and all of my African American children who were my reading students at the time in Kansas City.
Scientists think that about 10% percent of human beings are gay. This means in every group of about 10 or 12 people, one or two are probably gay. Each of my children has had a group of friends of about 10 - 12 and as expected, they each have gay friends. Luckily, rather than ostracize these kids, they have formed a protective cocoon around them. Kamiak high school is built in such a way that the gym, swimming pool and sports facilities are at one end of the school and the music, choir, orchestra and drama facilities (performing arts center or PAC) are located at the other end. My kids and Kaley in particular have spent most of their time in the PAC end. For some reason, the teachers and the kids in this end of the school foster love and acceptance and a safe haven for children that do not fit into the "football" mentality. And it has been wonderful for me as a parent to see these incredibly creative children be open and caring with one another.
I have no doubt that people do not choose to be gay any more than people are given a choice about the color of their skin. When I was a little girl of four or five, my best friend was Kent. He lived across the street from me. I had an older brother who was not the least bit interested in playing with me. I loved to play with dolls and to play dress-up inside and he was outside on his bike or with a toy gun or with some type of ball. But because I had a brother, I was used to boys more than girls. The large Catholic family up the block had tons of girls but I didn't always like all of the hubbub and the squabbling. But Kent, across the street, was the best of everything. He was a boy but he played with me in a way that my brother never would despite my cajoling and insistence. At his house or mine, we would play cook and dress-up, but most importantly, he would play dollies with me. He was sweet and kind. It was great.
Kent had a nice ordinary family. He, too, had a macho athletic older brother who hung out with my athletic macho brother. His family was stable and his parents were married for a long time. Kent was loved. In high school, Kent was not allowed to openly be what he was but he devoted his talents to puppetry after high school. I ran into his brother at a party when I was about 25 and I'll never forget what he said to me.
"Do you remember how my brother liked to play with dolls?"
"Uh.... yea. I certainly do. How's he doing?"
"Terrific, he's extremely talented. He designs and makes puppets and has made a career of it. It's the weirdest thing--but it's cool," he said with great pride.
I still did not know whether or not he was gay but I didn't care. He had found his thing when he wasn't so comfortable in high school. My Mom remained friends with his Mom and sure enough, years later, my suspicions were confirmed. Kent was born the way he was born just like I was and just like my brother was. But because he had a great family that nurtured him, he did not have to live his life as a lie. The article in the paper today is about kids proclaiming they do not want to live in hiding and with dishonesty about themselves.
http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/html/snohomishcountynews/2002611795_gayteens09n.html
If parents are in tune and communicating with their children, they know probably from the earliest years. I bet Kent's Mom always knew. Lucas's friend Robert decided to tell his Mom when he was in high school that he was gay and her response was simply, "I know; I have always known." I knew the minute that Lucas invited Hannah to his rowdy all boy birthday party when he was in pre-school that he was not gay. This gorgeous little girl in a dress with long blonde hair showed up at the door with a bouquet of flowers. Her Mom said the flowers were her idea. Hannah was kind of ignored at the party but if I recall, the boys were more rambunctious than ever. Kaley's first little crush was also in pre-school and his name was Keenan. She still remembers her feelings and it was different than toward her girl friends. I remember my first crush in Sunday school when I was five on a boy, ironically named David. And I did not expect to play dolls with him like I did Kent.
What in the world are we doing to these human beings---all God's children---whose first innocent feelings are for someone of the same sex? We hate them and we teach them to hate themselves and in so doing we destroy them. We tell them they are sinful, evil, and perverted and that they are not allowed in church. I know that in Mukilteo these kids are not welcome in Christian youth groups. We tell them they can change and that they must change to be worthy in our eyes. I can't imagine trying to tell Lucas he cannot like girls or Kaley that she cannot have a crush on the boy up the street; I can't imagine telling Robert he is not allowed to look at other boys. The consequences of the bigoted attitude that society doesn't want gay folks running around have been devastating to these children. According to the Seattle Times article:
"Brenda Newell, a program manager for the health district who runs the support group, said that despite progress in winning acceptance, many gay youths are at a higher risk for depression, suicide, drug use and unsafe sex. Many who have been rejected by their families end up in homeless shelters or on the streets, she said."
And another quote:
"Robinson's mother, Caroline, said Elliott was first called a derogatory term for homosexual in elementary school. A principal intervened to stop the taunts, but the boy was harassed again in junior high, and she watched as her son — bright, sensitive and expressive — became moody and dark.
Caroline Robinson also had her own journey to acceptance once Elliott came out at 16. A devoted Lutheran, she sent her children to private Christian schools for part of their education and had to deal with her fears that being a homosexual meant a lifestyle that included casual sex, AIDS and drug abuse.
Elliott said he has no interest in that lifestyle.
"What I'm looking for is a relationship, someone I can spend my life with," he told the other young people at the GLOBE meeting. "I consider myself very religious. I grew up with it."
According to my beliefs as a Christian, Jesus wants us to gather in these children and love them. He wants us to accept them and to teach them to accept themselves so that they can be launched into adulthood with peace, happiness, and success. Parents should nurture, schools should protect, and churches, as a refuge, have the biggest role of all and need to learn to cherish their souls and provide spiritual guidance.
The article states that Kamiak High School has a gay-straight diversity club in order to provide a safety net for gay teens. Not true! It was not allowed. Our church will welcome them; one of Kaley's friends was involved with trying to get the group going but it failed. Now, this particular girl, a lesbian, is teetering between staying in school and dropping out. Kaley became friends with her when they were in the gifted program together in elementary school. Believe me, this girl is super smart and we should be more concerned about her dropping out of school than that she has a girlfriend. The drama department seems to be keeping her in school at least for the time being.
Our church is open to them but they want to be able to meet at school---they are leery of churches where hatred hasn't always been the antithesis of Love. And that is sad.... My priest says that the doors of our church are flung open wide for these kids and told me through my daughter to get them there.
Because we'd love to have more gay people running around.
Today in the Seattle Times/Snohomish edition there was a wonderful article about gay teens. One of the things I am most proud about is my children's accepting and loving attitude towards others and particularly their attitude towards gay teens. Yesterday, my daughter came home from school upset because a boy in her government class said he'd be in favor of strict laws pertaining to gays because in his words, "I don't want more gay people running around."
Kaley thought he was joking and when she realized he was serious, she was stunned at the hateful attitude. She felt this statement was a personal insult to her friends who this kid had never met. I told her she had just come face to face with prejudice and it is ugly. The attitude is no different than back in the fifties and sixties when people were fearful of blacks moving into their neighborhoods. I specifically remember my father-in-law, who grew up in southern Kansas, telling me in 1975 that if he went into a restaurant where a black family was being served, he would feel sick and uncomfortable eating in the same room with them. He didn't want more black people running around in his world. This was in insult to me and all of my African American children who were my reading students at the time in Kansas City.
Scientists think that about 10% percent of human beings are gay. This means in every group of about 10 or 12 people, one or two are probably gay. Each of my children has had a group of friends of about 10 - 12 and as expected, they each have gay friends. Luckily, rather than ostracize these kids, they have formed a protective cocoon around them. Kamiak high school is built in such a way that the gym, swimming pool and sports facilities are at one end of the school and the music, choir, orchestra and drama facilities (performing arts center or PAC) are located at the other end. My kids and Kaley in particular have spent most of their time in the PAC end. For some reason, the teachers and the kids in this end of the school foster love and acceptance and a safe haven for children that do not fit into the "football" mentality. And it has been wonderful for me as a parent to see these incredibly creative children be open and caring with one another.
I have no doubt that people do not choose to be gay any more than people are given a choice about the color of their skin. When I was a little girl of four or five, my best friend was Kent. He lived across the street from me. I had an older brother who was not the least bit interested in playing with me. I loved to play with dolls and to play dress-up inside and he was outside on his bike or with a toy gun or with some type of ball. But because I had a brother, I was used to boys more than girls. The large Catholic family up the block had tons of girls but I didn't always like all of the hubbub and the squabbling. But Kent, across the street, was the best of everything. He was a boy but he played with me in a way that my brother never would despite my cajoling and insistence. At his house or mine, we would play cook and dress-up, but most importantly, he would play dollies with me. He was sweet and kind. It was great.
Kent had a nice ordinary family. He, too, had a macho athletic older brother who hung out with my athletic macho brother. His family was stable and his parents were married for a long time. Kent was loved. In high school, Kent was not allowed to openly be what he was but he devoted his talents to puppetry after high school. I ran into his brother at a party when I was about 25 and I'll never forget what he said to me.
"Do you remember how my brother liked to play with dolls?"
"Uh.... yea. I certainly do. How's he doing?"
"Terrific, he's extremely talented. He designs and makes puppets and has made a career of it. It's the weirdest thing--but it's cool," he said with great pride.
I still did not know whether or not he was gay but I didn't care. He had found his thing when he wasn't so comfortable in high school. My Mom remained friends with his Mom and sure enough, years later, my suspicions were confirmed. Kent was born the way he was born just like I was and just like my brother was. But because he had a great family that nurtured him, he did not have to live his life as a lie. The article in the paper today is about kids proclaiming they do not want to live in hiding and with dishonesty about themselves.
http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/html/snohomishcountynews/2002611795_gayteens09n.html
If parents are in tune and communicating with their children, they know probably from the earliest years. I bet Kent's Mom always knew. Lucas's friend Robert decided to tell his Mom when he was in high school that he was gay and her response was simply, "I know; I have always known." I knew the minute that Lucas invited Hannah to his rowdy all boy birthday party when he was in pre-school that he was not gay. This gorgeous little girl in a dress with long blonde hair showed up at the door with a bouquet of flowers. Her Mom said the flowers were her idea. Hannah was kind of ignored at the party but if I recall, the boys were more rambunctious than ever. Kaley's first little crush was also in pre-school and his name was Keenan. She still remembers her feelings and it was different than toward her girl friends. I remember my first crush in Sunday school when I was five on a boy, ironically named David. And I did not expect to play dolls with him like I did Kent.
What in the world are we doing to these human beings---all God's children---whose first innocent feelings are for someone of the same sex? We hate them and we teach them to hate themselves and in so doing we destroy them. We tell them they are sinful, evil, and perverted and that they are not allowed in church. I know that in Mukilteo these kids are not welcome in Christian youth groups. We tell them they can change and that they must change to be worthy in our eyes. I can't imagine trying to tell Lucas he cannot like girls or Kaley that she cannot have a crush on the boy up the street; I can't imagine telling Robert he is not allowed to look at other boys. The consequences of the bigoted attitude that society doesn't want gay folks running around have been devastating to these children. According to the Seattle Times article:
"Brenda Newell, a program manager for the health district who runs the support group, said that despite progress in winning acceptance, many gay youths are at a higher risk for depression, suicide, drug use and unsafe sex. Many who have been rejected by their families end up in homeless shelters or on the streets, she said."
And another quote:
"Robinson's mother, Caroline, said Elliott was first called a derogatory term for homosexual in elementary school. A principal intervened to stop the taunts, but the boy was harassed again in junior high, and she watched as her son — bright, sensitive and expressive — became moody and dark.
Caroline Robinson also had her own journey to acceptance once Elliott came out at 16. A devoted Lutheran, she sent her children to private Christian schools for part of their education and had to deal with her fears that being a homosexual meant a lifestyle that included casual sex, AIDS and drug abuse.
Elliott said he has no interest in that lifestyle.
"What I'm looking for is a relationship, someone I can spend my life with," he told the other young people at the GLOBE meeting. "I consider myself very religious. I grew up with it."
According to my beliefs as a Christian, Jesus wants us to gather in these children and love them. He wants us to accept them and to teach them to accept themselves so that they can be launched into adulthood with peace, happiness, and success. Parents should nurture, schools should protect, and churches, as a refuge, have the biggest role of all and need to learn to cherish their souls and provide spiritual guidance.
The article states that Kamiak High School has a gay-straight diversity club in order to provide a safety net for gay teens. Not true! It was not allowed. Our church will welcome them; one of Kaley's friends was involved with trying to get the group going but it failed. Now, this particular girl, a lesbian, is teetering between staying in school and dropping out. Kaley became friends with her when they were in the gifted program together in elementary school. Believe me, this girl is super smart and we should be more concerned about her dropping out of school than that she has a girlfriend. The drama department seems to be keeping her in school at least for the time being.
Our church is open to them but they want to be able to meet at school---they are leery of churches where hatred hasn't always been the antithesis of Love. And that is sad.... My priest says that the doors of our church are flung open wide for these kids and told me through my daughter to get them there.
Because we'd love to have more gay people running around.
// posted by Janet @ 7:40 AM
0 comments
Friday, November 04, 2005
Stuffed Animals
My children have always had a propensity for stuffed animals. I do believe as a parent, honoring their attachments to inanimate objects fosters their ability to bond with real live pets. When children learn to love their dogs and cats or frogs or salamanders or geckos, they in turn learn how to care for other human beings.
My son is now supposedly studying at the University of Rennes in France but last weekend he took off by himself to Brussels, Belgium and had quite an adventure. He is keeping a Live Journal about his escapades which I read with my hands over my face and peeking through my fingers. He is having the time of his life but it is a little hard on MOM thousands of miles away. When he was two, I had trouble with him running off to explore because of his insatiable curiosity so I bought one of those kid leashes--you know--the kind that velcroed onto my wrist with a twisty bright colored telephone cord hooked to a ribbon velcroed onto his little wrist. I believed it was essential at the Honolulu airport and at Sea-Tac. I was certain he would have run onto an airplane headed for Tokyo had I not hooked him to me. Needless to say, the general public looked at me aghast and I guess now Lucas is paying me back for putting him on a leash.
The link to his journal:
http://www.livejournal.com/users/grizluke85/
Anyway, back to stuffed animals. Lucas's pictures of Brussels reminded me of our sabbatical trip to Europe ten years ago when he was 10 and Kaley was 7. You see, Kaley had a major meltdown on the steps of one of those cathedrals in Brussels over "Marmot". We were living in Lyon at the time but we traveled on the weekends for fun and we spent a week traveling in Switzerland, the Netherlands, and Belgium where my husband did a guest scientist lecture tour. One of our earlier weekend trips took us to Chamonix in the French Alps. For a souvenir, Kaley found a cute hand-sized stuffed marmot with a ski hat and scarf. Immediately, she became attached to Marmot and carried him with us wherever we went.
From the moment Kaley was born, she instantly would become attracted to doll-like objects. As a toddler, she always had something tucked under her arm. When she was a year old, as I unpacked the groceries, she grabbed the plastic yellow mustard sqeeze bottle. I do not know how many days she packed around the mustard bottle as her baby but as long as the seal remained intact, it was her doll. Likewise, when she was two, Lucas brought home a tiny pumpkin from a preschool pumpkin patch trip and Kaley adopted that pumpkin. Everywhere we went, along came Pumpkin. She still loves minaiture pumpkins. Her devotion to these objects is passionate indeed.
As I was exploring Brussels with my children while Dave was in meetings, Kaley suddenly remembered she had put Marmot to bed in a drawer in the hotel in Basel, Switzerland the night before. Oh my, an upset and crying Kaley wanted only one thing and that was Marmot, her darling Marmot. Europeans tend to be soft spoken in public places and their children are quiet. There I was, an American Mom in the middle of Brussels with a not quiet American child who had lost her favorite souvenir. Unfortunately, the souvenir shops in Brussels did not have marmots but we managed to find a Euro bear who sported a sweater with the new proposed European Union logo. She was somewhat happier but Euro bear just was not the same as Marmot. Not again, I thought, because first it was Lucas.
The first three weeks of this sabbatical trip, we had spent in Scotland and England. Lucas was attached to stuffed animals as well and he had brought along a small stuffed beaver. He didn't put his animals in drawers to sleep because he would fall asleep with the fuzzy creature in his hand--even at age 10. Lucas never adopted mustard bottles or pumpkins but he did have a large white stuffed bear named Binky that slept with him each night. Binky is still in his closet at this moment. Obviously, we could not take Binky to Europe so Beaver, the size of a coffee mug, was the substitute. Lucas left Beaver in London. He disappeared when the maids changed the sheets. Lucas was devastated so I called housekeeping before we left and tried to explain with my American accent to a woman with the strongest Cockney accent I had ever heard.
I can still hear the helpful woman yelling at the others in the laundry, "Has anyone seen a beavuh in the washing sheets?" It didn't take long for my children to copy the accent of the Cockney maid and "Has anyone seen a beavuh in the washing sheets?" has become family lore.
Off we went to Scotland with Beaver left behind in London. One of the first touristy things we did was to visit a castle and lo and behold, they had a gift shop. They did not have beavers but they did have badgers so we replaced Beaver with Badger who was about the same size but black instead of brown. Lucas was somewhat happier but Badger was not Beaver. And Kaley was miffed her brother got a new animal and she didn't. It did not seem to matter at that moment that Badger was a replacement. As a parent, it seemed like I could never win with these situations.
And yes, I realize that Dr. Phil would say I should not have made any attempt to replace the animals in order to teach my kids to be responsible about their possessions. But, Dr. Phil, we had to put our beloved Golden Retriever to sleep two months before we left on this trip. My children were grieving this huge loss which probably fueled their reactions to their forgotten toy animals and their attachements to them. Nope, Dr. Phil---I was going to replace those little fake creatures no matter what.
Meanwhile, jump ahead a couple of months to another weekend of travel away from Lyon. Kaley had her Euro bear and Lucas had his badger. We traveled to Lake Annecy in France which is in the foothills of the Alps. Our memories of that fairy tale place are nothing less than euphoric. Amazingly, the souvenir shops were populated with marmots. We were thrilled. I was thrilled. Kaley had a new Marmot though his hat and scarf had different colored stripes than Marmot I's hat and scarf, if I recall. Funny how it did not seem to bother her that she was up two new stuffed animals and Lucas was only up one. No, I am certain that we managed to equalize the souvenirs in some fashion.
And believe me when I say, I never check out of a hotel now without checking the beds and the drawers--not once but two or three times. Because..because though Lucas doesn't carry a stuffed animal anymore when we travel, Kaley still does and his name is Gorilla.
My children have always had a propensity for stuffed animals. I do believe as a parent, honoring their attachments to inanimate objects fosters their ability to bond with real live pets. When children learn to love their dogs and cats or frogs or salamanders or geckos, they in turn learn how to care for other human beings.
My son is now supposedly studying at the University of Rennes in France but last weekend he took off by himself to Brussels, Belgium and had quite an adventure. He is keeping a Live Journal about his escapades which I read with my hands over my face and peeking through my fingers. He is having the time of his life but it is a little hard on MOM thousands of miles away. When he was two, I had trouble with him running off to explore because of his insatiable curiosity so I bought one of those kid leashes--you know--the kind that velcroed onto my wrist with a twisty bright colored telephone cord hooked to a ribbon velcroed onto his little wrist. I believed it was essential at the Honolulu airport and at Sea-Tac. I was certain he would have run onto an airplane headed for Tokyo had I not hooked him to me. Needless to say, the general public looked at me aghast and I guess now Lucas is paying me back for putting him on a leash.
The link to his journal:
http://www.livejournal.com/users/grizluke85/
Anyway, back to stuffed animals. Lucas's pictures of Brussels reminded me of our sabbatical trip to Europe ten years ago when he was 10 and Kaley was 7. You see, Kaley had a major meltdown on the steps of one of those cathedrals in Brussels over "Marmot". We were living in Lyon at the time but we traveled on the weekends for fun and we spent a week traveling in Switzerland, the Netherlands, and Belgium where my husband did a guest scientist lecture tour. One of our earlier weekend trips took us to Chamonix in the French Alps. For a souvenir, Kaley found a cute hand-sized stuffed marmot with a ski hat and scarf. Immediately, she became attached to Marmot and carried him with us wherever we went.
From the moment Kaley was born, she instantly would become attracted to doll-like objects. As a toddler, she always had something tucked under her arm. When she was a year old, as I unpacked the groceries, she grabbed the plastic yellow mustard sqeeze bottle. I do not know how many days she packed around the mustard bottle as her baby but as long as the seal remained intact, it was her doll. Likewise, when she was two, Lucas brought home a tiny pumpkin from a preschool pumpkin patch trip and Kaley adopted that pumpkin. Everywhere we went, along came Pumpkin. She still loves minaiture pumpkins. Her devotion to these objects is passionate indeed.
As I was exploring Brussels with my children while Dave was in meetings, Kaley suddenly remembered she had put Marmot to bed in a drawer in the hotel in Basel, Switzerland the night before. Oh my, an upset and crying Kaley wanted only one thing and that was Marmot, her darling Marmot. Europeans tend to be soft spoken in public places and their children are quiet. There I was, an American Mom in the middle of Brussels with a not quiet American child who had lost her favorite souvenir. Unfortunately, the souvenir shops in Brussels did not have marmots but we managed to find a Euro bear who sported a sweater with the new proposed European Union logo. She was somewhat happier but Euro bear just was not the same as Marmot. Not again, I thought, because first it was Lucas.
The first three weeks of this sabbatical trip, we had spent in Scotland and England. Lucas was attached to stuffed animals as well and he had brought along a small stuffed beaver. He didn't put his animals in drawers to sleep because he would fall asleep with the fuzzy creature in his hand--even at age 10. Lucas never adopted mustard bottles or pumpkins but he did have a large white stuffed bear named Binky that slept with him each night. Binky is still in his closet at this moment. Obviously, we could not take Binky to Europe so Beaver, the size of a coffee mug, was the substitute. Lucas left Beaver in London. He disappeared when the maids changed the sheets. Lucas was devastated so I called housekeeping before we left and tried to explain with my American accent to a woman with the strongest Cockney accent I had ever heard.
I can still hear the helpful woman yelling at the others in the laundry, "Has anyone seen a beavuh in the washing sheets?" It didn't take long for my children to copy the accent of the Cockney maid and "Has anyone seen a beavuh in the washing sheets?" has become family lore.
Off we went to Scotland with Beaver left behind in London. One of the first touristy things we did was to visit a castle and lo and behold, they had a gift shop. They did not have beavers but they did have badgers so we replaced Beaver with Badger who was about the same size but black instead of brown. Lucas was somewhat happier but Badger was not Beaver. And Kaley was miffed her brother got a new animal and she didn't. It did not seem to matter at that moment that Badger was a replacement. As a parent, it seemed like I could never win with these situations.
And yes, I realize that Dr. Phil would say I should not have made any attempt to replace the animals in order to teach my kids to be responsible about their possessions. But, Dr. Phil, we had to put our beloved Golden Retriever to sleep two months before we left on this trip. My children were grieving this huge loss which probably fueled their reactions to their forgotten toy animals and their attachements to them. Nope, Dr. Phil---I was going to replace those little fake creatures no matter what.
Meanwhile, jump ahead a couple of months to another weekend of travel away from Lyon. Kaley had her Euro bear and Lucas had his badger. We traveled to Lake Annecy in France which is in the foothills of the Alps. Our memories of that fairy tale place are nothing less than euphoric. Amazingly, the souvenir shops were populated with marmots. We were thrilled. I was thrilled. Kaley had a new Marmot though his hat and scarf had different colored stripes than Marmot I's hat and scarf, if I recall. Funny how it did not seem to bother her that she was up two new stuffed animals and Lucas was only up one. No, I am certain that we managed to equalize the souvenirs in some fashion.
And believe me when I say, I never check out of a hotel now without checking the beds and the drawers--not once but two or three times. Because..because though Lucas doesn't carry a stuffed animal anymore when we travel, Kaley still does and his name is Gorilla.
// posted by Janet @ 8:21 AM
0 comments
Webcams
I just love webcams and became interested in them when my son would drive between Missoula and Seattle. I'd check them constantly for the road conditions and they were the cause of me requiring him to take the bus Thanksgiving two years ago. He has never forgiven me.
Anyway, I can't get over what Stevens Pass looks like and it is only November 4. I also like the ferry cams because it is always good to check out the ferry line. For some reason, my type A husband just hates waiting in ferry lines but I find it completely relaxing. The scenery is usually fabulous and we are often going somewhere just for fun.
With the links below, you can check out what it looks like in the entire Puget Sound area at this very moment. Weird!
"From the ocean,...to the prairie,....to the mountains,...white with snow...."
http://www.wsdot.wa.gov/ferries/cameras/index.cfm
http://www.king5.com/livecams/ieindex.html#top
I just love webcams and became interested in them when my son would drive between Missoula and Seattle. I'd check them constantly for the road conditions and they were the cause of me requiring him to take the bus Thanksgiving two years ago. He has never forgiven me.
Anyway, I can't get over what Stevens Pass looks like and it is only November 4. I also like the ferry cams because it is always good to check out the ferry line. For some reason, my type A husband just hates waiting in ferry lines but I find it completely relaxing. The scenery is usually fabulous and we are often going somewhere just for fun.
With the links below, you can check out what it looks like in the entire Puget Sound area at this very moment. Weird!
"From the ocean,...to the prairie,....to the mountains,...white with snow...."
http://www.wsdot.wa.gov/ferries/cameras/index.cfm
http://www.king5.com/livecams/ieindex.html#top
// posted by Janet @ 7:40 AM
0 comments
Thursday, November 03, 2005
Here Goes!!
I have upped my dose of melatonin at night and my dose of B complex vitamins during the day. I browse the internet for one of those light boxes and the newspaper had a big article about the best lights and the shops in Seattle that carry them. Seasonal Affective Disorder Syndrome (SADS) begins. November is really the worst. December brings the excitment of Christmas and for some reason the cold brings several clear bright days in January and February between the socked in times, but November.....darkness, rain, and wind.
Supposedly, over the weekend, we will experience one of our famous northwest windstorms. You know--the kind that took out and destroyed Ivar's Restaurant in Mukilteo not that long ago. I am happy we had the two big trees taken out of our backyard last summer. And the snow is dumping in the mountains. Ski hills will open this weekend if you can get there. At the moment, I am not sure you can get over Snoqualmie Pass.
http://www.heraldnet.com/stories/05/11/03/100loc_aski001.cfm
Olympics dumped on--Picture yesterday
Pouring on Puget Sound--this morning
Across the street, out my window, looking away from the water--rain!
Actually, I like the windstorms. They are exciting and with our gas fireplace and gas stove and gas BBQ, we can manage without power for a while. Now. I don't need to worry about trees or branches crashing through the roof. So here goes--we'll see what happens!
UPDATE
Whoa! Look at Stevens Pass right now! This is 45 minutes to an hour from my front door in good weather. I cannot believe this is where my English grandparents lived when they first came to this country at the turn of the century.
http://www.king5.com/traffic/trafficcon.html?I90#stevenspass
I have upped my dose of melatonin at night and my dose of B complex vitamins during the day. I browse the internet for one of those light boxes and the newspaper had a big article about the best lights and the shops in Seattle that carry them. Seasonal Affective Disorder Syndrome (SADS) begins. November is really the worst. December brings the excitment of Christmas and for some reason the cold brings several clear bright days in January and February between the socked in times, but November.....darkness, rain, and wind.
Supposedly, over the weekend, we will experience one of our famous northwest windstorms. You know--the kind that took out and destroyed Ivar's Restaurant in Mukilteo not that long ago. I am happy we had the two big trees taken out of our backyard last summer. And the snow is dumping in the mountains. Ski hills will open this weekend if you can get there. At the moment, I am not sure you can get over Snoqualmie Pass.
http://www.heraldnet.com/stories/05/11/03/100loc_aski001.cfm
Olympics dumped on--Picture yesterday
Pouring on Puget Sound--this morning
Across the street, out my window, looking away from the water--rain!
Actually, I like the windstorms. They are exciting and with our gas fireplace and gas stove and gas BBQ, we can manage without power for a while. Now. I don't need to worry about trees or branches crashing through the roof. So here goes--we'll see what happens!
UPDATE
Whoa! Look at Stevens Pass right now! This is 45 minutes to an hour from my front door in good weather. I cannot believe this is where my English grandparents lived when they first came to this country at the turn of the century.
http://www.king5.com/traffic/trafficcon.html?I90#stevenspass
// posted by Janet @ 8:06 AM
0 comments
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