Beltane and Robin Gibb

They really have nothing to do with one another except that today is May 1st - Beltane and I saw Robin Gibb (a real live Bee Gee!) at Luisenpark this afternoon.

I have a real love-hate relationship with my memory of the Bee Gees. I love their early stuff..."Massachusetts", "I've Gotta Get a Message To You", "How Do You Mend a Broken Heart?" and, of course, "Words". But they are also the poster children for that ugliest of times in American music history...the Disco era. When people think of the music of the '70s they think of Disco. Truth be told, there was great music in the '70s but in 1977 a little movie called Saturday Night Fever and it's soundtrack (sung by the Bee Gees) gave new life to what had been, up to that point, a sidestream of American music - and a dying sidestream at that - Disco. The Disco era took off and the Bee Gees led the charge. Gag me with platform shoes and polyester! Good music was drowned out in the presence of the dance beat. Like I said, I have a real love-hate relationship with my memory of the Bee Gees. So when I saw Robin Gibb at the park today (he's playing a concert here in Mannheim on Sunday night) I didn't know whether to stalk him and ask for an autograph or cuss him out for his part in running good music off the radio when I was 20 years old. In the end I just left him and his companoin to their park exploration and continued on with my own.

Luisenpark was alive with people today. May 1st is a public holiday. I'm not sure what the German name for today is but in the States we just call it May Day, a day to recognize the changing of the seasons. Many cultures have some sort of deeply rooted historical celebration of Spring and the coming year. For the ancient Celts it was Beltane, a time when they celebrated the fertility of the coming year and believed that the "door" between the earthly world and the spirit world opened.

In Irish mythology, the beginning of the summer season for the Tuatha Dé Danann and the Milesians started at Bealtaine. Great bonfires would mark a time of purification and transition, heralding in the season in the hope of a good harvest later in the year, and were accompanied with ritual acts to protect the people from any harm by Otherworldly spirits, such as the Aos Sí. Like the festival of Samhain, opposite Beltane on October 31 Beltane was also a time when the Otherworld was seen as particularly close at hand.

Early Gaelic sources from around the 10th century state that the druids of the community would create a need-fire on top of a hill on this day and drive the village's cattle through the fires to purify them and bring luck (Eadar dà theine Bhealltainn in Scottish Gaelic, 'Between two fires of Beltane'). This term is also found in Irish and is used as a turn of phrase to describe a situation which is difficult to escape from. In Scotland, boughs of juniper were sometimes thrown on the fires to add an additional element of purification and blessing to the smoke. People would also pass between the two fires to purify themselves. This was echoed throughout history after Christianization, with lay people instead of Druid priests creating the need-fire. The festival persisted widely up until the 1950s, and in some places the celebration of Beltane continues today.

The largest Beltane celebration takes place in Edinburgh, Scotland. One more thing to add to my calender next year!

I Am Grateful For This Past Year

A year ago today, I was uncertain about what the future held for me. The only thing I was sure about was that I was having surgery that morning to remove a grapefruit sized tumor from my right ovary. Was it benign or was it ovarian cancer? Would I be able to carry on with my Journey to the Highlands or would I first have to journey through that horrible world of radiation and chemotherapy. And if the second was my destiny, would I come out the other side victorious and healed or would I not make it to the other side at all? I was scared yet somehow still unbelieving. It just didn't seem possible that this could be happening to me...but it was. The surgeon was a gynecological oncologist and that was my name on his schedule that morning.

I thought about my children. They are the light of my life and there was so much life for us still to share. I thought about my dream of moving to Scotland. So close but suddenly so tenuous. I had shed tears of fear, let my mind wander to the scariest places and played the what if game.

I had given the tumor a title to make it a little less scary. I called it my little invader. Chief Engineer Scott to Captain James T. Kirk: "Captain, we have an invader!" Then you would see several nameless crew members running through the corridors of the Enterprise to confront and capture the invader. I was the mother ship and I had my own invader. The doctor and his surgical team were about to storm my corridors to confront and capture the enemy (stupid, I know, but it helped). As I sat there on the bed, in my hospital gown, waiting to be wheeled away, I wasn't dreading the surgery. I wanted to get it over with and get on to the next step...whatever that next step turned out to be.

The next three days in the hospital weren't a lot of fun. This was the 5th time in my life I had had some kind of abdominal surgery. You don't realize how much you use those muscles until after you've been cut open. Those core stomach muscles are an integral part of every movement your body makes. Add to that one of my infamous migraine headaches and the whole experience was pretty ugly. Nikki was my angel. She had flown in from Germany and stayed 10 days with me. She helped me in and out of bed and to the bathroom; she cagoled me into eating and even kept up my blog.

As crappy as it was, though, it wasn't as crappy as it could have been. The pathology tests came back... and the tumor was benign. All I had to do was recuperate from the surgery. My future would not include chemotherapy, radiation, hair loss and cancer doctors....

As I look back on last summer, I think about how different it could have been. As it was, though, it was a wonderful summer. I traveled to Seattle, to Colorado, to Germany and to the Caribbean. I spent several weekends throughout the summer with Paul in Virginia and I moved back to Germany in October.

Living in Germany again has been an unexpected gift. So different from the last time. Not better or worse, just a different kind of experience. I spent a month in Berlin learning to be an English language teacher and made some wonderful friends there. I love my little apt here in Mannheim. I rent from Barbara and Peter who live downstairs and who have become friends. They invite me for Sunday lunch on a regular basis and we've spent several lovely afternoons hiking through the local forests together. I teach on Tues, Wed and Thurs. What a great job! It certainly doesn't feel like work. My students are great and are all very motivated. And I've become a regular visitor to Luisenpark. It's just beautiful in the Spring and is the perfect place for my walks.

The best part of living here, though, is being able to spend time with Nikki. She called the other day and said, "Hey Mom, I need to return those shoes this afternoon. Wanna meet me at Paradeplatz?" So we met up downtown and returned her shoes. We also went to the post office and the bank. Then we went to a cafe that we had discovered a few weeks ago where they have these wonderful salads. After that she went to her French class and I went to the grocery store. It's just being able to do the little things together that we are both enjoying so much.

Bert was gone last weekend so Nikki and I went to check out McClaren's Irish Pub on Thursday night. She slept at my place that night and the next morning we decided, on the spur of the moment, to go to Strasbourgh for the day. It's only about an hour and a half away by train and I hadn't been there since the last time I lived here. Nikki had never been but had really been wanting to check it out. So off we went! The weather was gorgeous and we had such a good time. We had breakfast on the train and played tourist once we arrived. We did the self guided tour around the Altstadt that the Tourist Information lady recommended, we climbed the cathedral, shopped and had dinner at an outdoor cafe. While we were eating, a summer shower popped up and caught all the shoppers by surprise. We watched them all scramble for cover as we sat there under the awning dry and comfy. On the train on the way home Nikki and I were sharing the earbuds to my iPod to listen to Shiehallion, a traditional Scottish band from Inverness. I started laughing. "Nik, do realize that we are two Americans, on a train in Germany, listening to Scottish music?" "On our way back from France!" she added. The smiles were pretty big. Travel will never get old to either one of us.

As I said, I am so grateful for this past year. And now I'm planning my long awaited move to Scotland......

What I Love Most About My MacBook

When I got my first laptop at the end of 2007 I decided to leave Windows and venture into the world of Macintosh. I've seldom regretted that decision. Yes, there is the occasional inconvenience when this or that whatever isn't compatible with a Mac but for the great majority of the time owning a MacBook has been a dream.

I could go into all the differences between a Mac and Windows and how easy it was to learn the OSX operating system and the user interface (I hope I'm using the right terminology) but if you own a Mac you already know all that stuff and if you don't own a Mac, you don't care. Truth be told, I get a little nervous when I have to use Windows now. I'm so used to what I have that Windows has become a bit foreign to me.

All that aside, though, what I really love the most about Mac Dubh ( that's it's name...pronounced "McDoo", Gaelic for son of the black one) is the magnetic power cord. You see, Mac Dubh doesn't sit stationary on a desk. He sits on my lap, or on the couch, or on the coffee table, or wherever. So the power cord is all over the place and I can't tell you how many times over the last year and a half that I have caught it with my foot as I get up to walk away. If that little power cord were securely attached I would have killed Mac Dubh a hundred times over by now. But, as it is, when klutzy me can't lift my foot high enough to avoid the cord, it just pops right off and my little black MacBook feels nary a jolt.

I have no idea who, at Apple, came up with the idea of a magnetically attached power cord but what a fabulous feature. If it has saved my laptop so many times, then I can't be the only MacBook owner out there who has silently thanked that anonymous person, either just before or just after calling myself a dork for catching the cord....again.

Oh yeah, and Mac Dubh says thanks, too!

Craig Reads My Email

This actually happened about 3 months ago, but I was preoccupied with getting ready to leave for Berlin that week and didn't get around to posting it. Craig gets about 1000 emails a day and out of those his staff pick out a bunch that they think he might like. Then he goes through them and chooses the 3 or 4 that he likes the best. It's kind of a game with his regular viewers to see who can write an email that Craig will choose to read on the show. I have to admit I was pretty jazzed when he picked mine. I don't even mind that he mispronounced Mannheim.

Beauty Comes In Many Packages

The embed for this video has been disabled on youtube, but please, copy/paste it into your browser. It brought tears to my eyes. And she's a Scot!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9lp0IWv8QZY

Hallowed Ground

I posted this last year and I'll probably post it again on this day next year. The Battle of Culloden is one of the most important events in Scottish history....

The date was the 16th of April, 1746, but the story began in 1603 when King James VI of Scotland (the only child of Mary Queen of Scots and heir of the Stuart Dynasty) ascended to the throne of England upon the death of his third cousin, Queen Elizabeth. He then became James I of England as well as James VI of Scotland, uniting the two countries under continuing Protestant rule.

The crown passed through the Stuart descendants, a mixed bag of Catholics and Protestants, for about 100 years until the Settlement Act of 1701. This Act prevented James III, the great grandson of James I from claiming the British crown in 1714 because he was Catholic. The next nearest Protestant claimant to the throne was a German from Hanover. Thus began the Hanovarian Dynasty of George I and the struggle of the Jacobites (from the Latin for James) to return the throne to the Catholic Stuart Dynasty. After a failed attempt from France by James III himself in 1715, the cause was passed to his son Charles Edward Stuart, known also as Bonnie Prince Charlie.

In 1745 Prince Charles made his move. He landed in Scotland, gathering his forces predominately from the Highlands and swept through the country on a wave of national pride coming within striking distance of London itself. Through a series of bad command decisions, though, the Highlanders eventually found themselves, on Culloden Moor, exhausted and facing the Hanovarian forces who were well rested and under the sharp command of the Duke of Cumberland, the younger son of King George II. They were outnumbered 9000 to 5000.

It was a slaughter that lasted last than an hour. Survivors were given "no quarter" and the dead were buried by the local citizens. There were too many for individual graves so the bodies were interred in mass graves according to their clan. The clan stones still stand on Culloden Moor to this day. Jacobite sympathizers were hunted down over the coming months, many of them killed or taken prisoner to be executed or transported to the colonies in America. The wearing of kilts and clan tartan were outlawed as well as the playing or possession of the bagpipes, considered not a musical instrument but an instrument of war. The Highland clan way of life that had flourished for 600 years was exterminated.


Clan stones on the moor

A visit to the Memorial at Culloden, today, feels more like a pilgrimage to those who love the Scottish Highlands and her rich history. It truly is hallowed ground. Quiet contemplation in front of each of the Clan stones (many with freshly laid flowers), looking to the top of the Memorial with it's inscription to the fallen Highlanders and imagining the ancient way of life that was crushed on that fateful day is sure to move all but the most hardened of hearts. I encourage all who visit to walk the battlelines. Begin at the line of red flag poles that represent the place where the Hanovarian troops were positioned. Look across the Moor to the blue line of the Highlanders. Then walk to the other side and look back across. Look at how boggy and uneven the ground is and try to imagine the physical struggle and confusion of a battle in such a setting. I was overwhelmed with a feeling of reverence and respect for the men who had died in the very field where we were standing. I do not exagerate when I say that we could very nearly feel their presence all around us.....

Viva La Feet!

The weather has been just beautiful lately. Spring is definitely here. But I really haven't had a chance to get out and enjoy it until yesterday. I took on a project from Conny, who is doing her PhD at the university in Berlin. She has done some interviews that she needs transcribed from audio and doesn't have the time to do it herself so she's paying me to do it. It's really tedious, boring and time consuming but the money at the end will be nice to see. I spent the better part of last week working on it and decided yesterday that I needed a break and also needed to get outside. So I put on my walking shoes. I've gotten out of the habit of my daily walks since I got here and now that the weather has gotten so nice I plan to make them a priority again.

Nikki lives in Ludwigshafen and I live in Mannheim. The two cities are only separated by the Rhein river. Then there is the Neckar which branches off the Rhein, runs through Mannheim and off to the southeast (actually I think it comes from the SE and runs into the Rhein at Mannheim). So riverside walking/biking paths are in abundance around here. They are quite pretty, well maintained and very popular. I started my walk yesterday along the Neckar and ended up several miles later in a little town called Neckarhausen. By the time I got back to my starting point I had covered about 9.5 miles and was thoroughly pooped, but in a good way.

Today I decided to go to Luisenpark for my walk. I haven't been there since Nikki and I went last October. The park is really big with outdoor cafes, fountains, boat rides, flower gardens bursting with color, several playgrounds bursting with children, large open grassy areas and endless paths that meander through it all. There is something about walking through a park on a beautiful day with an ice cream cone in your hand that just makes you feel so carefree. I don't think I walked 9 miles today but, even so, I covered a good bit of ground and felt very satisfied by the time I left the park and caught the Strassenbahn home.

I'm not sure which I enjoyed more...the river or the park. Either way, though, I have really missed my walks. I've gone meandering through the forests and the vineyards with Nikki and Bert and various other people several times since I got to Germany but those excursions have a different feel to them. They are fun and very social and usually consume the whole afternoon. On the other hand my daily walks are solitary, only take a few hours and seem to be my way of staying in touch with myself. I don't power walk; I just walk. I think it's my form of meditation. I feel better mentally and physically when I walk regularly. I had a gym membership for a while several years ago but I finally realized that it caused me more stress than it relieved. I had to force myself to go and felt guilty when I didn't! I much prefer to just put on my tennis shoes, grab my iPod and step out the front door. I don't have to make myself do it. I don't find excuses to avoid doing it and it's a whole lot cheaper than the gym!

He Just Cracks Me Up!

The Declaration of Arbroath

Anybody who saw the movie Braveheart is familiar with the Scottish patriot William Wallace. After Wallace's execution in 1305 by King Edward I of England the Scottish people rallied around their King, known as Robert the Bruce, who continued the struggle against Edward's son and English domination.

Having soundly defeated King Edward II at the Battle of Bannockburn after nearly 20 years of war, King Robert the Bruce and the Scottish people might have reasonably hoped to be left in peace. But the English king did not give up so easily and the Scottish Wars of Independence continued. In the propaganda war, the Scots were at a disadvantage in relation to the influential power of the Pope in Rome - he was more interested in gaining support for another Crusade to the Holy Land from the English king. The Pope had excommunicated Robert the Bruce, not unreasonably, following Bruce's murder of a rival to the throne on the altar steps of a Franciscan priory. But prompted by the English king, the Pope also excommunicated all the people of Scotland.

The Declaration of Arbroath (sometimes called the Declaration of Independence) was Scotland's response to the excommunication. It is one of the great icons of Scotland and is in the form of a letter (in Latin) to the Pope from eight earls and 31 barons of Scotland asking him in rousing terms to acknowledge Scotland as an independent nation and to reject the claims of the English king. The Declaration was ahead of its time as it sets out that the king (previously regarded as appointed by God) could be driven out if he did not uphold the freedom of the country. It later became a model for the American Declaration of Independence.

It sets out the long history of Scotland as an independent state and cleverly tries to persuade the Pope of the legitimacy of Scotland's case. It's most famous and most quoted passage is:

"For so long as there shall but one hundred of us remain alive we will never give consent to subject ourselves to the dominion of the English. For it is not glory, it is not riches, neither is it honours, but it is liberty alone that we fight and contend for, which no honest man will lose but with his life."

The Declaration of Arbroath is more correctly entitled "Letter of Barons of Scotland to Pope John XXII". It is dated 6 April, 1320. While the original Declaration was delivered to the Pope, a contemporary copy is held in Register House, Edinburgh. The translation below of the full text is based on one published in 1689.

1320 Letter of Barons of Scotland to Pope John XXII (Declaration of Arbroath)

To our most Holy Father in Christ, and our Lord, John, by Divine Providence chief Bishop of the most holy Roman and Universal Church, your humble and devoted sons: Duncan Earl of Fife, Thomas Randolph Earl of Moray, Lord of Man and Annandale, Patrick of Dunbar, Earl of March, Malise Earl of Strathearn, Malcolm Earl of Lennox, Wilham Earl of Ross, Magnus Earl of Caithness and Orkney, William Earl of Sutherland, Walter, Steward of Scotland, Wilham of Soulis, Butler of Scotland, James Lord of Douglas, Roger of Mowbray, David Lord of Brechin, David of Graham, Ingelram of Umfravil, John of Menteith, Guardian of the earldom of Menteith, Alexander Fraser, Gilbert of Hay, Constable of Scotland, Robert of Keith, Marischal of Scotland, Henry of St Clair, John of Graham, David of Lindsay, William Oliphant, Patrick of Graham, John of Fenton, William of Abernethy, David of Wemyss, William Muschet, Fergus of Ardrossan, Eustace of Maxwell, William of Ramsay, William Mowat, Allan of Moray, Donald Campbell, John Cambrun, Reginald le Cheyne, Alexander of Seton, Andrew of Leslie, Alexander of Straton, and the rest of the barons and freeholders, and whole community, of the kingdom of Scotland, send all manner of filial reverence, with devout kisses of your blessed and happy feet.

Most holy Father and Lord, we know and gather from ancient acts and records, that in every famous nation this of Scotland hath been celebrated with many praises: This nation having come from Scythia the greater, through the Tuscan Sea and the Hercules Pillars, and having for many ages taken its residence in Spain in the midst of a most fierce people, could never be brought in subjection by any people, how barbarous soever: And having removed from these parts, above 1,200 years after the coming of the Israelites out of Egypt, did by many victories and much toil obtain these parts in the West which they still possess, having expelled the Britons and entirely rooted out the Picts, notwithstanding of the frequent assaults and invasions they met with from the Norwegians, Danes, and English; And these parts and possessions they have always retained free from all manner of servitude and subjection, as ancient histories do witness.

This kingdom hath been governed by an uninterrupted succession of 113 kings, all of our own native and royal stock, without the intervening of any stranger.

The true nobility and merits of those princes and people are very remarkable, from this one consideration (though there were no other evidence for it) that the King of Kings, the Lord Jesus Christ, after His Passion and Resurrection, honoured them as it were the first (though living in the outmost ends of the earth) with a call to His most Holy Faith: Neither would our Saviour have them confirmed in the Christian Faith by any other instrument than His own first Apostle in calling (though in rank the second or third) St Andrew, the most worthy brother of the Blessed Peter, whom He would always have to be over us, as our patron or protector.

Upon the weighty consideration of these things our most Holy Fathers, your predecessors, did with many great and singular favours and privileges fence and secure this kingdom and people, as being the peculiar charge and care of the brother of St Peter; so that our nation hath hitherto lived in freedom and quietness, under their protection, till the magnificent King Edward, father to the present King of England, did under the colour of friendship and alliance, or confederacy, with innumerable oppressions infest us, who had in mind no fraud or deceit, at a time when we were without a king or head, and when the people were unacquainted with wars and invasions. It is impossible for any whose own experience hath not informed him to describe, or fully to understand, the injuries, blood and violence, the depredations and fire, the imprisonments of prelates, the burning, slaughter and robbery committed upon holy persons and religious houses, and a vast multitude of other barbarities, which that king executed on this people, without sparing of any sex or age, religion or order of men whatsoever.

But at length it pleased God, who only can heal after wounds, to restore us to liberty, from these innumerable calamities, by our most serene prince, king, and lord Robert, who, for the delivering of his people and his own rightful inheritance from the enemy's hand, did, like another Joshua or Maccabeus, most cheerfully undergo all manner of toil, fatigue, hardship, and hazard. The Divine Providence, the right of succession by the laws and customs of the kingdom (which we will defend till death) and the due and lawful consent and assent of all the people, made him our king and prince. To him we are obliged and resolved to adhere in all things, both upon the account of his right and his own merit, as being the person who hath restored the people's safety in defence of their liberties. But after all, if this prince shall leave these principles he hath so nobly pursued, and consent that we or our kingdom be subjected to the king or people of England, we will immediately endeavour to expel him, as our enemy and as the subverter both of his own and our rights, and we will make another king, who will defend our liberties: For so long as there shall but one hundred of us remain alive we will never give consent to subject ourselves to the dominion of the English. For it is not glory, it is not riches, neither is it honours, but it is liberty alone that we fight and contend for, which no honest man will lose but with his life.

For these reasons, most Reverend Father and Lord, We do with earnest prayers from our bended knees and hearts, beg and entreat Your Holiness that you may be pleased, with a sincere and cordial piety, to consider that with Him whose Vicar on earth you are there is no respect nor distinction of Jew nor Greek, Scots nor English, and that with a tender and fatherly eye you may look upon the calamities and straits brought upon us and the Church of God by the English; and that you may admonish and exhort the king of England (who may well rest satisfied with his own possessions, since that kingdom of old used to be sufficient for seven or more kings) to suffer us to live at peace in that narrow spot of Scotland beyond which we have no habitation, since we desire nothing but our own, and we on our part, as far as we are able with respect to our own condition, shall effectually agree to him in every thing that may procure our quiet.

It is your concernment, Most Holy Father, to interpose in this, when you see how far the violence and barbarity of the pagans is let loose to rage against Christendom for punishing of the sins of the Christians, and how much they daily encroach upon the Christian territories. And it is your interest to notice that there be no ground given for reflecting on your memory, if you should suffer any part of the Church to come under a scandal or eclipse (which we pray God may prevent) during your times. Let it therefore please Your Holiness to exhort the Christian princes not to make the wars betwixt them and their neighbours a pretext for not going to the relief of the Holy Land, since that is not the true cause of the impediment: The truer ground of it is, that they have a much nearer prospect of advantage, and far less opposition, in the subduing of their weaker neighbours. And God (who is ignorant of nothing) knows with how much cheerfulness both our king and we would go thither, if the king of England would leave us in peace, and we do hereby testify and declare it to the Vicar of Christ and to all Christendom.

But if Your Holiness shall be too credulous of the English misrepresentations, and not give firm credit to what we have said, nor desist to favour the English to our destruction, we must believe that the Most High will lay to your charge all the blood, loss of souls, and other calamities that shall follow on either hand, betwixt us and them. Your Holiness in granting our just desires will oblige us in every case where our duty shall require it, to endeavour your satisfaction, as becomes the obedient sons of the Vicar of Christ.

We commit the defence of our cause to Him who is the Sovereign King and Judge, we cast the burden of our cares upon Him, and hope for such an issue as may give strength and courage to us and bring our enemies to nothing. The Most High God long preserve your Serenity and Holiness to His Holy Church.

Given at the Monastery of Arbroath in Scotland, the sixth day of April in the year of Grace 1320, and of our said king's reign the 15th year.

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Edward Update

I just read the mini-blog that Carie put up about Edward. Chipin helped her raise $435 toward his vet bill and the clinic has a charitable contribution fund that will help with the rest of it. The best news of all is that Edward went home last Monday!

Many happy years together, Carie and Edward!

Edward The Kitty

Edward belongs to a friend of a friend of mine. He swallowed a string that got all tangled in his intestines. He is recovering from major surgery now but the vet bill is huge and Carie, his owner, needs help.

Reviving The Dream

As much as I have enjoyed my time in Germany, as you all know, my goal is and always has been to get to Scotland. I quit my job in Tucson a year and a half ago, sold my house and applied to study Scottish history at The University of the Highlands and Islands in Inverness. They accepted me for the fall of '08 and I planned to use my inheritance to pay for my 4 years of schooling and living in Scotland. But we were unable to sell my dad's house and close the estate in time for me to go last fall. Plan B.... get a deferment from the university and go to Germany for the interim.

It was definitely a good decision to come to Germany. I have connected with cherished memories of living here before, gotten my certification as an English language teacher and started working, and have basked in the sheer joy of being close to Nikki again after missing her for so many months. All of the good things about being here, though, have been tempered by my disappointment in not yet getting to Scotland. I have consciously tried to mentally lock away my dream of a life in the Scottish Highlands and concentrate instead on the unexpected gift of getting to live in Germany for a second time.

Most of the time I do fine but every so often I will find myself listening to Celtic music, or in a conversation with someone from Scotland, or surfing the net and landing on some site or another having to do with Scotland and suddenly I'm just sad. I don't know any other way to explain it other than to say that my heart hurts. My yearning has not faded with time or been lessened by diversion. But I believe that everything happens for reason and I continually remind myself that when the time is right it will happen. Don't waste the gift of today by looking only for what will come tomorrow. It works most of the time.

Then....I got an email from my aunt and uncle the other day. My Aunt Carmen is handling my dad's estate which includes the sale of his house. After 16 months on the market the house has finally sold and the estate will be finalized next week.

I think it has taken me a few days to actually absorb the news. Suddenly my dream is within reach. I can go to Scotland this year! I can move to the Highlands and immerse myself in the study of Scottish history for the next 4 years. I can go hiking in The Great Glen; I can hang out at that cool little pub in Inverness; I can visit the Orkney Islands and go hiking on Hoy anytime I want to; I can go to the Edinburgh International Festival and I'll be in Inverness for the Highland Games this year...and next year and the year after that and the year after that! I'll eat haggis and drink single malt whisky (I'm not even sure what single malt is but I'm gonna drink it!) I'll celebrate Burns Day and learn to speak English in a way that my friends and family won't understand. I can go back to the memorial at Culloden Moor and see my stone on the Visitor's Center Walk. I'll learn all the words (not just the chorus) to my favorite traditional Scottish songs and sing along with the band, and when asked, I'll be able to say, "No, I'm not a tourist. I live here."!

A Great Weekend

I just had the loveliest weekend.

This was the final weekend of the Six Nations Rugby Tournament. The last three games were played back to back on Saturday so Nikki and I went to Murphy's Law Irish Pub to watch the first game with some friends, all of whom belong to the same expat group. After the first match we all hopped the train to watch the second and third matches at another pub in Heidelberg. I only just started watching rugby a few weeks ago but I've discovered that I really like it. The final game on Saturday was between Ireland and Wales to determine the league champions. Ireland won by a hair. It was a very exciting match.

Saturday night was also what is called Long Night at the Museum. The museums in Heidelberg, Mannheim and Ludwigshafen were all open until about 2am with special exhibits and pricing. It's quite festive and very popular. So after the rugby match about seven of us headed off to see the Body Worlds exhibition. I missed it in Phoenix and again in Pittsburgh so I'm glad I finally got to see it in Heidelberg. It was pretty cool. From there we took the train back to Mannheim to see an exhibition on the 1914 Shackleton expedition to Antarctica. By the time we emerged it was 12:30. The festivities were still in full swing and there was a lot more we could have seen but at this point we decided to call it a night. Bert was on a weekend hiking trip with a couple of friends so Nikki decided to sleep at my place. We tumbled into bed about 1:30 am.

On Sunday we met up with Clemens, Linda and Chrissie in a little town called Forst for a very unique celebration of Spring. Here is the official description:

Forst Hanselfingerhut

Forster Hansel Fingerhut

The village of Forst, well-known for its excellent wineries, is located on the German Wine Route on the slopes of the Haardt. On every Mid-Lent Sunday, this beautiful setting is used for the “Hanselfingerhut Spiel”, a special summer play to cheerfully drive out the winter.

The play has been performed since more than 200 years as historical documents mention it as early as 1721. Originating from immigrants from Switzerland and Upper Germany, the dramatic play has mixed with the local rituals to drive out the winter. The most lively and famous of the plays is performed in the wine village of Forst. Although the play looks far from extravagant to the outsider, it is still profound. In a literal sense, it truly is a people’s play that is spiced up with humor and originality. The play is based on the old Germanic idea of summer battling the winter.

The play is divided into four scenes and features six roles. The village road serves as the stage on which the play takes place. The first scene shows the fight between summer and winter for which purpose both actors are in small conical houses made from slats and poles. While the house of the winter is clothed in straw and crowned with a straw cross, the house of the Summer is covered with ivy and decorated with a little blue-and-white flags. Both houses have a peephole at head height so that the ‘warriors’ inside the houses are able to fight properly with their wooden sabers. After both warriors have carried their small houses down the village road and presented their respective advantages, the fight eventually starts and summer emerges as the winner.

In the second scene, the Henrich-Fähnrich appears, who resembles an officer cadet of the former landsknechts and who has the judicial authority. Henrich-Fähnrich decides on who has won the fight between summer and winter.

The main character of the summer play, the Hanselfingerhut, enters in the third scene. With ragged clothes and a sooty, oily face, he is holding a bale of soot in his hand. His look is meant to represent a vagabond who has squandered everything he owned. Nevertheless, he always feels like playing merry tricks on people and teasing young, beautiful girls. While he sings his small piece, he walks back and forth within the 5m distance between the two houses of Winter and Summer. At the end of his piece, he tries to catch one of the girls in the crowd, to press his black brand on her face with a kiss.

In the fourth scene, the Hanselfingerhut, who has become very weary in the meantime, is shaved by the barber and given inner relief by bloodletting from the toe. However, as the treatment is too strong, the Hanselfingerhut faints. While all the other characters surround him and lament, he eventually wakes up again after the Henrich-Fähnrich tickles his ribs with his saber. Nudelgret comes running and revives him with fresh pretzels.

So what happens is that these two guys, one wearing a winter cone (kind of like a portable teepee) and the other wearing a summer cone take turns taunting each other for about 5 minutes and eventually poke out their little wooden swords from their peepholes and fight. The 'judge' decides the winner (always summer). Then the Hanselfingerhut shows up ( he's the guy in the above photo who is dressed in rags and covered in black oily paint) for his part in the play which takes place in the street between the two 'Seasons'.

When the play is finished the entire production, including the crowd of onlookers, proceeds down the street and the play is performed all over again. They do this about four times. Part of the fun, though, is that 'Nudelgret', who is supposed to be a pretty girl, is a man dressed in silly 'pretty maid' clothes complete with bloomers, comical face makeup and braids. She sells her pretzels to people in the crowd when she's not performing. The Hanselfingerhut is also very busy in between his performances. He spends his 'off-stage' time running around kissing all the women. So by the end of the festivities all of the women and girls in the crowd have big black kiss marks on their cheeks.

The afternoon culminates with food and drink and the setting on fire and burning of another conical representation of winter in the town square. It's all great fun and, as Nikki pointed out, very pagen. A fabulous way to bid farewell to Winter and welcome the return of Spring!

Wake Up Little Blog...

I've been home from Berlin for 4 and a half weeks and my poor blog has been more dormant during this past month than it was while I was gone! What have I been doing? I was only without an internet connection for about 5 days so that's not an excuse!

Well, I've been putting together a CV and rounding up work. So far I have 2 contracts. I'm teaching a class of 7 intermediate learners at BASF. They all work in one of the logistics offices and want to improve their English so they can echange emails and conduct phone conversations more effectively with their English speaking customers. We meet once a week on Thursday afternoons.

My other contract is with a family who is moving to the States in June. They have two boys (ages 10 and 12) and want the boys to have some tutoring before they go. I'm going to spend an hour and a half with them on Wednesday afternoons, starting tomorrow.

So right now I only have 2 and a half hours of work each week but I have a few other leads. Hopefully I'll have more contracts soon.

I'm loving my little apartment. There are 3 apts in the house. I have the top floor apt just below the attic so all of my outside walls slant inward. It feels like a little hobbit house. But it's got plenty of room for Lucy and me. She has settled in nicely. Poor old thing, I've moved her 3 times in the last year. She's 18 and a half years old now. I'll be lucky if she makes it to 19. Her last checkup a few weeks ago showed that her kidneys are starting to go. But her blood glucose level is fine so the kidney thing is not due to her diabetes. It's just old age. She can't get up on the bed or the couch by herself anymore, either. Her legs aren't strong enough to jump. So she "mreep"s at me and I have to reach down and help her up. We do this about 20 times a day. I even have to wipe her face after she eats! Not to mention having to put down puppy pee pads in front of her litter box because she doesn't always get her ass all the way in. And I worry about her when I'm gone for too many hours. It's kind of like taking care of an old person, I guess. But I don't mind. As long as she is comfortable and not in any pain I'll do what needs to be done.

Well, this post hasn't exactly been a glowing example of creative writing but it's late and I just wanted to check in with y'all.

BTW....Happy St Paddy's Day everyone!

No Internet!

I feel like my right arm has been amputated. I lost my internet connection last Thursday evening. Peter and Barbara (the house owners) have a wireless router downstairs that, up until a few days ago, worked flawlessly for me. Now, for some reason, it's on the fritz. Peter says he thinks he might have to buy a new one. So I just have to wait. In the meantime, I'm going crazy!

I brought my laptop to Nikki's place this morning so I could get online. I'm trying to remember everything I wanted to do or send or check on but I know as soon as I get home I'll think of something I forgot.

I remember the days when we had no internet or cell phones or home printers; we all did just fine. Now, though, I'm absolutely lost without any one of them...

CELTA Jan-Feb 2009

I'm back from my training in Berlin and looking forward to my new career as an English language teacher. I feel like I should be writing about the program in detail; suffice to say that it was very intensive but I did well. This entry is more about the people I had the privilege of getting to know.
Let me first introduce them....


Teacher trainers:

Dominic
Nationality: British
Age: late 40's?
Our fearless leader.

Helen
Nationality: British
Age: early 40's
This woman can hang!

Gui
Nationality: Australian
Age: early 40's?
A superhero in disguise.


Teacher trainees:

Annakiska
Nationality: American
Age: mid 50's
Good home training.

Kate
Nationality: Irish
Age: 23
My little Irish rose and an honorary North American.

Michael
Nationality: American
Age: mid 30's
Too smooth to be Harry Potter; has a very odd concept of 'squares', though.

Sandra
Nationality: American
Age: late 20's
No feedback on Friday, please!

Brad
Nationality: Australian
Age: early 40's
The best Aussie accent ever and half of the Bradley-Chadley Bridge.

Connie
Nationality: American
Age: 51
me

Tom
Nationality: British
Age: 23
Cute as a bug's ear. I love his 'lovely'!

Chad
Nationality: American
Age: 37
My best buddy and the other half of the Bradley-Chadley Bridge.

Peter
Nationality: British
Age: 58
"Ooohh, Nooo!"

Dan
Nationality: American
Age: 24
'Should have' stayed out of the smoking room.


Annika
Nationality: Swedish
Age: early 20's
NOT from Stockholm!

Charlie
Nationality: British
Age: 22
My kid

Daniel
Nationality: British
Age: 24
A tender heart but still....
f%@&o#f


These are the people I just spent the last month with. I lived with a couple of them, ate with all of them, and partied with most of them. We studied together, laughed our asses off together, ridiculed each other and cheered each other on. The impact they have had on me is immeasurable. I went to Berlin to better myself professionally. Little did I know how my personal life would be enriched. We all have our own stories; different backgrounds, different cultures, rhotic and non-rhotic accents but we share a common bond. Teacher trainers and trainees alike; we are all vagabonds with a love of travel and a thirst to see the world. So often when I talk about the places I've been I feel like people think I'm trying to impress or brag or something. But here was a group of people who, between them, have seen most of the world. We bonded not just because of our shared experience in the CELTA program but because we are all like-minded people. Nobody batted an eye at the fact that, at 50, I quit my job, sold my house and bought a one-way ticket out of the country. My story was not unusual.

I've talked with a few of my classmates over the last couple of days since I returned to Mannheim. We all seem to be feeling the same sense of loss... that of each other. Not only did we spend the last month together learning how to teach English grammar, how to write detailed lesson plans and how to grade our language to the learner, we became friends. I will remember each of them always and there some who have a permanent place in my life.

I learned how to be a teacher in Berlin but the true treasure of this last month is in the faces of these people...


(left to right)
front row: Peter, Annika, Kate, me, Helen, Annakiska and Dan.
back row: Gui, Tom, Charlie, Dominic, Daniel, Brad, Chad and Michael.

Talking Skunks With The Brits In Berlin (C, C, T and D.....I told you this would be the title!)

When I was getting ready to leave for the CELTA program four weeks ago it somehow never crossed my mind that, at some point, I would find myself sitting in some little bar in the Berlin suburb of Kreuzberg with a guy from Tennessee trying to explain the smell of a skunk to three young Brits....at 4 in the morning. But that's where I was and that's what we were doing. Actually, I don't think Charlie and Daniel were listening but Chad and I gave Tom, who has never been (pronounced 'ben' not 'bean' if you're from Tennessee!) to the U.S., this very detailed explanation of what a skunk smells like, how hard it is to get rid of the smell if you've been sprayed and how people just have to comment on the odor anytime they smell it (“Ew, do you smell that?” “Yeah, there's a skunk around somewhere.”).
This was an evening that had started out at a different bar where we had gone to an open mic performance night with several of our other classmates. The event was hosted by a group of expat Americans and Brits living in Berlin, one of whom was also in the CELTA program with us. It was very cool, sitting with friends and beer, listening to whoever wanted to get up on stage perform whatever they wanted to perform. Some people read their own poetry. Some read from the works of well known poets. A few people played guitar and sang. One woman did a monologue from her upcoming one woman show and another read from a short story she had written about spending her summers in India when she was a teenager. A couple of performers left us kind of scratching our heads saying, “Huh? I don't get it.” but overall it was very entertaining and a lot of fun.
When it was over, around 12:30, some of us just weren't ready to call it a night yet so we went in search of someplace to continue our, ahem, intellectual interactions. Well, that and... more beer. We found the beer but somehow the intellectual interactions deteriorated into talk of skunks, Bullshit Bingo, and Chad's knowledge of dirt. It then deteriorated further into to a substantial debate about what exactly does Daniel's recently coined term 'Man and Boy' really mean. Once understanding had been checked with a few concept questions we then moved to the free practice stage of the exercise. That of determining just who in our extended group actually possessed the qualities required to hold the coveted title of Man and Boy. This took a while. Needless to say, the next day we were all feeling a bit below standard.

Progress Report

Oh my gosh. I can't believe it's been a week since I've blogged. The past week has just zoomed by. I'm half way through the CELTA course already. It's been a lot of work so far but very interesting and I'm learning oodles.

We have about three and a half hours of what's called Input each morning. In other words we are students. We are being taught how to teach. We learn about the different types of learners, the most effective ways to teach writing, speaking, reading and listening skills to English language learners and a whole host of other teaching techniques that we will need to make us competent teachers. In the afternoon we teach. Our students know that we are trainees and realize that our instruction won't be perfect but at the same time they are language students and we are expected to actually be productive in our role as teachers when we are at the front of the room. We each teach twice a week and we observe each other teaching on the days when we are not "on". Between lunch and the actual teaching sessions we spend time with one of the program tutors reviewing the lessons that were taught the previous day and preparing for the next day's lessons. On top of all of this we have several hours of work each evening that includes creating our lesson plans and working on written assignments required for successful completion of the CELTA course.

At the half way point I'd saying I'm doing nicely. I feel good about what I'm expected to be able to do after 2 weeks in the program. I actually got an Above the Standard grade for the grammar lesson I taught to a class of advanced learners on Wednesday. A grade of Above the Standard is a pretty big deal in our little microcosm of a world. And on a grammar lesson, to boot! The monster in the closet for all of us.

On that note, I need to get back to work.

Scotland's Bard

Tomorrow is the 250th anniversary of the birth of Scotland's favorite son. Robert Burns was a poet and a lyricist.

'Rabbie' Burns wrote in his native Scots but he also wrote in English. It was in English that he wrote some of his most biting social and political commentary.

The 19th-century scholar and educationalist J S Blackie summed up Burns's importance to Scotland and the Scots with the words:

'When Scotland forgets Burns, then history will forget Scotland.'

You may think you don't know who he is but I'll bet you've sung one of his songs many times in your life. He is widely credited for the version of Auld Lang Syne that we sing each year.

Here are the words (with a translation at the end) so you can sing out next year while everyone else sort of mumbles through it!

Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And auld lang syne?

CHORUS:
For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne,
We'll tak a cup of kindness yet,
For auld lang syne!

And surely ye'll be your pint-stowp,
And surely I'll be mine,
And we'll tak a cup o kindness yet,
For auld lang syne!

We twa hae run about the braes,
And pou'd the gowans fine,
But we've wander'd monie a weary fit,
Sin auld lang syne.

We twa hae paidl'd in the burn
Frae morning sun till dine,
But seas between us braid hae roar'd
Sin auld lang syne.

And there's a hand my trusty fiere,
And gie's a hand o thine,
And we'll tak a right guid-willie waught,
For auld lang syne

Meanings

auld lang syne - times gone by
be - pay for
braes - hills
braid - broad
burn - stream
dine - dinner time
fiere - friend
fit - foot
gowans - daisies
guid-willie waught - goodwill drink
monie - many
morning sun - noon
paidl't - paddled
pint-stowp - pint tankard
pou'd - pulled
twa - two

And then there was also his famous...

Address To A Haggis

Fair fa' your honest, sonsie face, Great chieftain o' the pudding-race! Aboon them a' yet tak your place, Painch, tripe, or thairm: Weel are ye wordy o'a grace As lang's my arm. The groaning trencher there ye fill, Your hurdies like a distant hill, Your pin was help to mend a mill In time o'need, While thro' your pores the dews distil Like amber bead. His knife see rustic Labour dight, An' cut you up wi' ready sleight, Trenching your gushing entrails bright, Like ony ditch; And then, O what a glorious sight, Warm-reekin', rich! Then, horn for horn, they stretch an' strive: Deil tak the hindmost! on they drive, Till a' their weel-swall'd kytes belyve Are bent like drums; Then auld Guidman, maist like to rive, Bethankit! hums. Is there that owre his French ragout Or olio that wad staw a sow, Or fricassee wad make her spew Wi' perfect sconner, Looks down wi' sneering, scornfu' view On sic a dinner? Poor devil! see him owre his trash, As feckles as wither'd rash, His spindle shank, a guid whip-lash; His nieve a nit; Thro' blody flood or field to dash, O how unfit! But mark the Rustic, haggis-fed, The trembling earth resounds his tread. Clap in his walie nieve a blade, He'll mak it whissle; An' legs an' arms, an' hands will sned, Like taps o' trissle. Ye Pow'rs, wha mak mankind your care, And dish them out their bill o' fare, Auld Scotland wants nae skinking ware That jaups in luggies; But, if ye wish her gratefu' prayer Gie her a haggis!

---

Here's to you Rabbie!

No Time, No Time

I'm in Berlin doing the CELTA teacher training course. It's really intensive but fun. We have classes all day and then about 4 hours each evening of prep for the next day. We started teaching actual students on the second day. Today is our 4th day and I'm teaching a lesson today on phrases that one would use to describe a community. Things like crime rate, cosmopolitan, good infrastructure, pollution, nightlife.

So there won't be much time to blog for a few weeks. I'll try not to let my blog sit completely dormant but there probably won't be much activity here until I finish the course on the 13th of Feb.

This is Lucy!!

Thanks to Bert for this...

A (eucalyptus scented) Blast From The Past

One of the many nice things about being back in Germany is that it allows me to reach back and touch a few things that have, for so long, been only memories.
The first time I was here, Nena introduced me to the Miesenbacher Sauna, which was just up the street from where we lived as neighbors. It was a cozy little neighborhoody place run by a very nice couple named Peter and Doris Clemens. In addition to the sauna with lockers and showers there was a steam room, a pool, sunbeds, a cozy little breakroom with things to eat and drink, massage, a private patio and even a quiet room where you could just curl up and nap. Everything was done in the buff, except the breakroom and napping. Nena and I became once a week regulars at our neighborhood sauna (I don't think we ever saw any other Americans there). It was so relaxing and especially wonderful on cold winter evenings. Peter and Doris were very friendly and knew all the regulars by name. Over the years Nena and I have lamented the loss of our 'sauna evenings'.

Yesterday Nikki and I packed our towels and shower shoes and hopped on the train for another little excursion down memory lane. She had heard about the sauna for so many years as a kid and was looking forward to actually experiencing it for herself. I wondered if it would be the same and if Peter or Doris would remember Nena and me from 20 years ago.

It was the same and Peter did remember us! He said he recognised my voice first and then commented that I didn't wear glasses back then (as I do now). He remembered "Nena's pretty brown eyes". I guess when you work around a bunch of naked people every day you learn to concentrate on faces. I introduced Nikki and we talked with Peter for a bit more before I showed her around. Then it was time to get naked and just relax. We spent about 5 hours there. We got massages. We went from the hot sauna to the back yard (in the snow!), back to the sauna, to the cold water bath, to the breakroom, to the foot soaking chairs, to the sunbeds, back to the breakroom... We chatted with the other ladies in the sauna and in the breakroom. We talked with Peter a lot throughout the evening, too. It was like I'd only been gone a few months instead of 15 years. Sadly, the ping pong table is gone from the patio (I remember a few wicked games of naked ping pong with Nena) but so much is just like it was before. Going to the sauna has always been one of my fondest memories of day to day life in Germany and it was wonderful to be able to bring that memory to life again. The only thing missing was Nena.

Grandpa Bill

...that's what my kids called him.

Bill Moran married their grandmother in 1981. Michael was 15 months old and the girls were 3 months old. Bill may not have been their natural grandfather but he was Grandpa, just the same. Not just to my kids but to all of Ruth's 16 grandchildren, most of whom weren't even born before Bill and Ruth got married. In fact, I had only met my mother-in-law once before Bill came into her life. The second time I met her was when she came to California to help for a week or so when we brought the twins home from the hospital. She and Bill had only been dating for a few months and she glowed like a schoolgirl when she talked about him. She had found love. Three months later, on Valentine's Day, they flew to Las Vegas to get married.

They would have celebrated their 28th wedding anniversary next month but Bill died on Saturday. I can't imagine what Ruth will do now. We certainly can't say that the house and property will be too much for her to keep up by herself. Maybe for any other 77 year old woman but this is Ruth we're talking about (She's like the Bionic Woman except that all her parts are still natural). I can't imagine her living anywhere but there but I can't imagine her there without Bill. They crafted their little piece of paradise together. As I write this, though, it's clear to me what Ruth will do. She'll stay where she is. That's her home. It holds her memories of Bill and their life together.

What do you say when someone you love dies of a heart attack? He went quickly? He was at home? He lived a full life? It's all crap. He shouldn't have died. We loved him. The best thing I can say is that I'm glad we were there for Christmas. And that, as we all were leaving and Bill and I were saying goodbye, I turned back for a second hug and a second "I love you".

Funny AND Scottish...part II

The video isn't very good but the content is priceless...


Take that, late night hosts who need a script to be funny!

I Almost Peed Myself...

The End of A Very Eventful Year

2008 was certainly a year of change for me. This time last year I was in the middle of dismantling my life in Tucson, preparing for a roadtrip across the country, spending a few months with family in Pittsburgh and then my big move to Scotland in the fall. Aside from a little cancer scare and surgery in the spring, most of the year went well. My house sold in July, I did some fabulous traveling over the summer and got to know my cousin Paul in Virginia. Unfortunately, my dad's house didn't sell in time to settle the estate before I was to begin school in Sptember at The University of the Highlands and Islands in Inverness. My plan was and still is to use my inheritance to pay for my schooling. But it became clear that my dream of moving to Scotland and starting a degree in Scottish History was not going to happen in 2008 so I got a deferment from UHI and decided to move back to Germany until I could get to Scotland. Lucy and I arrived the first part of October. I love Germany and it's wonderful to be close to Nikki again but I still dream of the day when I touch down in Edinburgh, headed for my new life in the Highlands.

I just got back on Tuesday from Christmas in Colorado. We had a great time. I got to Ruth and Bill's on the 15th and the kids were all suppose to arrive on Saturday the 20th. Michael was the only one who actually made it in as planned, despite the snow storm that hit Seattle. Shauna wasn't so lucky. Her flight on the same day and at the same time, was canceled and she spent the weekend doing the quintessential holiday airport dance going from counter to counter, spending the night in a hotel next to the airport because she was afraid that if she went home she would never make it back, going from counter to counter again the next day, taking a flight to anywhere that would get her out of Seattle, staying in another hotel, and finally making it to Denver on Monday. By the time she arrived in Gypsum that night she was glassy eyed and very happy to see family. Nikki and Bert had arrived the day before from their roadtrip through the Southwest so we were finally all together.

The next week was spent hanging around the house, hiking through the snow, going to Vail and then to the Martins' for Christmas Eve, the Martins coming to Gypsum on Christmas Day and shopping in Glenwood Springs the day before we left. Ruth fed us mountains of food, I did mountains of dishes, we talked economics and politics with Bill and played with the new puppy. Nikki and Bert went showshoeing, and we went to the Glenwood Pool. It's the world's largest naturally heated outdoor swimming pool. The water comes from the underground mineral hot springs and they actually have to cool it down before it reaches the pool. It's a bit nippy when you first walk out of the poolhouse in a swimsuit into temps below freezing and you have to be careful that your bare feet don't slip on the ice as you scamper to the pool. But once you're in! Aaahhh!!!

There were lots of hugs and kisses and a few tears on Sunday. Michael flew back to Seattle, I returned to Germany and Shauna, Nikki and Bert flew to Wisconsin for more Christmasing with Wade, Sarah and the little sisters. And Steve! He wasn't able to join us in Colorado (something about spending Christmas with his own mom...?) but he flew from Michigan to spend this week in Green Bay.

I got a nice surprise on the way home, though. I flew from Denver to Washington D.C. where I had to change planes. When I handed my boarding pass to the gate person in D.C. the scanner beeped. "Oh," said the man, " so you're the lucky one." My reaction was to think, Oh god, what?. "New seat assignment" he said and handed me a new boarding pass. I got bumped up to Business Class! You know, get on the plane and turn left instead of right. OMG! It's like a whole 'nother world. Drinks before take off, a hook for your coat, individual linen tablecloths, appetizer, then salad, then entree, then dessert. I could put my legs straight out in front of me and not touch the next seatback with my toes. When I wanted to sleep my seat back reclined almost all the way down. And I had an adjustable footrest! That was great 'cause you know how my feet don't always reach the floor. This way they didn't have to just dangle, which gets very uncomfortable. There wasn't even anyone sitting next to me so I could put all my crap in the seat instead of trying to shove it under the seat in front of me, which I couldn't reach anyway!

Alas, all good things must end. We landed in Frankfurt...without my bag. It was chillin' in Atlanta. The bad news was that it had all my stuff in it. The good news was that I didn't have to schlepp it home (it was considerably heavier on the way back). The airline delivered it to me last night with everything intact, including the tequila.

As soon as I got home the first thing I had to do was to go pick up Lucy. When I got her home I could see the change in her. She's lost weight since I left and she's even more unsteady on her feet than before. She ate a bit of dry foot at first but then nothing. She was interested in my food though so I coaxed her with some canned kitty food. She liked that. I'm not sure what's going to happen. I hate to think that we may be getting near the end. I don't know. Maybe I'm just being melodramatic.

Anyway, I hope this new year brings you all health and much happiness.

Funny AND Scottish!

Craig Ferguson hosts The Late Late Show on CBS weeknights after David Letterman. He is by far the funniest comedian I've seen in a long time. His monologue is barely scripted and more often than not is more like a 10 minute stream of consciousness. Since I can't get American TV I've watched a bunch of his stuff on You Tube. Oh, and BTW, he's a Scot! I have to admit that I am a sucker for the accent. But Ferguson is truly funny. Here's a sample. I hope you laugh as much as I do.

Here and There

OK, how weird is this? Nikki is in Tucson and I'm in Ludwigshafen. The kids and I are all meeting up at Ruth and Bill's in Colorado for Christmas but Nikki and Bert are doing a road trip through the Southwest before heading for Colorado. They are in Tucson right now. Nikki wanted to show Bert her old stomping grounds. On their way to Colorado they'll hit Phoenix, Sedona, the Grand Canyon and Arches National Park. Check out her blog for info on their adventures.
I fly from Frankfurt to Denver on the 15th so I'll have almost a week with Ruth and Bill before the kids arrive on the 20th. Then we'll all be there until the 28th.

Lucy will spend the couple of weeks that I'm gone in a very nice kitty hotel here. I always worry a little whenever I leave her. She's just gotten really old in the last year. I just noticed last week how gray she's getting. She's slow and sometimes a little unsteady like an old cat, too. I'm only half joking when I tell her, "Now don't die while I'm gone". And I'm always very relieved when I get back to her and she snuggles her face into my neck, happy to be in my arms again. Everybody who knows me knows how attached Lucy and I are to one another. And anyone who knows Lucy knows what a strange cat she is. She is as affectionate and definitely more needy than any dog I've ever known. And she has been my constant companion for the last 18 years. Through all the ups and downs and all the changes in my life, Lucy has always been there. It's a good thing she's such an easy going cat. I've drug the poor old girl all over the place in the last year. She's never scared of new surroundings or new people. When I open the door of her kennel she just strolls out with an attitude of "OK, where are we now?" Most cats would go and hide for a while until they feel comfortable. Not Lucy. She proceeds to explore every corner in every room and then just makes herself at home.
When I get back after Christmas she and I are moving into our new apt. Two weeks later she'll have to come back to Nikki and Bert while I go to Berlin for a month. I thought about just leaving her here with them rather than moving her for just a couple of weeks and then bringing her back but I can't imagine settling into the new apt. without her. That would just be too weird.
I'll be such a basket case when I lose this silly cat. But who knows, she could hang around for another 3 or 4 years. It's not unheard of for cats to live past twenty. Maybe we'll get lucky.

I Got My Visa!

On Wednesday the German gov't said I can stay. So I am now an official Resident Alien. Hooray! And the little card really is green!

I landed in Germany for the first time 21 years ago today. Who ever would have thought that exactly 21 years later I would be settling in....again. You just never really know where life is going to take you. Dec 5th, 1987 was also the day I met Dave and Nena. Thanks to both of you for 21 years of friendship. I love you bunches. Nikki is so looking forward to seeing you next week and introducing you to her tall handsome German.

Nasty Comments

I started this blog last February. I've had a lot of fun with it and I really enjoy the opportunity to share with my family and friends. But, since almost the very beginning there has been one really nasty and persistent Anonymous commenter. As the blog administrator I get an email alerting me as soon as any new comment is posted so I usually just delete Ms. Nasty as soon as she puts in her childish and hateful 2 cents worth. I figured the best thing to do was to just ignore her and not respond. I really thought that eventually, once she realized that her comments were being deleted as soon as she sent them, she would just get tired of the game and go away. Since this has not happened I can only assume that she doesn't actually care that her comments are immediately deleted. She must derive her pleasure from simply knowing that I have read them. How pathetic is that? Someone needs to refocus and just let go of an old grudge.

I'm not sure exactly what I expect to accomplish by blogging about this. I'm probably just throwing fuel on the fire. I haven't even decided yet whether to continue deleting her nasty comments or leave them for all of you to see and to comment on in return as you see fit. I really don't want to get into a pissing contest. I'd prefer it if she would simply go away and once and for all just leave me the hell alone. What's done is done and life happily goes on. At least mine does.....

Shameless Student

I'm amazed at how much German I don't know. The last time I lived here my exposure to the German language was however much I wanted it to be. Being here with the U.S. military meant that we had all of our daily necessities available on base. Doctors, dentists, the grocery store, the movie theater, the kids' school, the post office, the veterinarian....all in English. Ramstein Air Base was (I don't know if it still is) the largest American community outside of the United States. So our daily lives still centered around our native language. That's not to say that I didn't learn any German. I could read a menu in German, shop in German stores, travel, greet my neighbors, talk about the weather and do pretty much whatever else I needed to on the local economy. I worked as a tour guide for the USO for a long time which involved shepparding groups of Americans, by train or bus, to other places around Germany as well as a few places outside the country. I had to interact with train conductors, bus drivers, boat captains, ticket offices, restaurant owners and local tour guides as well as read signs, schedules and announcements.Very rarely did I have to resort to using English in a given situation. I always managed with my basic German. My grammar wasn't always correct but they could understand me and I could understand them. I learned what I needed to know.

What I did not learn was how to have an everyday conversation completely (and grammatically correct) in German. The last two months have really shown me what I can't do. I understand almost all of what I hear but I have a difficult time producing the language in a conversational setting (Nik assures me that this is perfectly normal).

So I started a 5 week German language class the day before Halloween. We have 3 days of class left, Mon, Tues and Wed of this week. The class is 3 hours a day, 5 days a week. It's been a very interesting experience. For one thing, we are a very diverse group. Eleven students from eleven different countries. Italy, Kosovo, Macedonia, Palestine, Peru, South Korea, Morocco, Brazil, China, Turkey and me. To top off our international stew our instructor is from Greece! Three of the students are teenagers. I'm the oldest in the class and the other seven people are all in their 20s or 30s. Most everyone, like me, had at least some German when we started. I'm glad I started with the first level class. Nothing that we have been taught has been totally new for me and it has been a very good refresher course in what I already know. There have also been things that I kind of knew but wasn't really sure about. This class has really helped to clarify some things that I was just sort of fuzzy on. Of course, it has really helped to come home to a native speaker and to a language teacher, both of whom are fluent in both languages. I don't think I can speak any better now than I could 5 weeks ago but my foundation in the language has been reinforced and I have a clearer understanding of where I need to go from here. The next class starts in January but I won't be here so I'll have to wait to continue my German classes.

I start training to be an English Language teacher on the 19th of January. The course is offerred at the Berlin School of English and is certified by Cambridge University (London). It's a pretty intensive program. Eight hours of instruction and teaching practice every day with about four hours of homework and lesson preparation each evening for 4 weeks. The CELTA program is recognised worldwide as one of the best (CELTA stands for Certificate in English Language Teaching to Adults) so I'll be able to use the training wherever I go. Here, once I finally get Scotland and need parttime work while I go to school and even back in the U.S. The course is kind of pricey but it's an all around good investment for the present and the future. And I'm really looking forward to the experience. I think I just like school.

Gobble Gobble...

Happy Turkey Day everyone! Though we didn't celebrate in the traditional American manner, Nik and I spent a lovely evening at the Neustadt outdoor Christmas market with friends, hot mulled wine and lots of food. It was very festive and a lot of fun.

Do Unto Others...

29 Years and 1 Day Ago

What a wild ride that first year was. The Neonatal Intensive Care Unit was a totally foreign atmosphere to us in the beginning but within that unit filled with bright lights, beeping machines, incubators and all manner of sterile equipment was a tiny baby boy who held our hearts and our dreams in his miniature little hand. We were overwhelmed at first by all the wires, tubes, medications, oxygen and incomprehensible terminology that surrounded our new son but as one day flowed into the next and each month flowed into another and another and then still another we became sort of 'parent experts', to the point that when the machine that monitored his breathing would trip, signaling that he was forgetting to breathe, one of us would gently pat the bottom of a little foot, watch for a big breath and then reach over and hit the reset button. We could discuss, intelligently, his medications, blood oxygen levels and progress with the doctors

There were some very scary times. A phone call from the nurse in the middle of the night saying the baby had taken a sharp turn for the worse and they weren't sure he would make it through the night and that we should come to the hospital. There was a very long weekend waiting for test results that would determine whether our son had Cystic Fibrosis. There were seizures and worst of all was the day he went into surgery, at five months old, to have half of his right lung removed. Day in, day out, our lives revolved around the drive to the hospital, scrubbing up and donning sterile gowns once we got there in order to do what most new parents get to do all day, every day....hold their new baby. I remember one day, sitting in a rocking chair, holding my little bundle, who was attached to an oxygen tank, and watching two young mothers, so excited because they were each taking their babies home that day. They talked about how long they had waited. One baby was 5 weeks old and the other was about 8 weeks old. I turned the rocker toward the wall because now I was crying. Michael was 6 months old. I was feeling pretty sorry for myself. When I arrived at the hospital the next day a new baby had been brought into the NICU. This baby was not a preemie. His mother had had a perfectly normal pregnancy and had delivered her son full term. But this otherwise perfectly healthy baby was missing most of both arms and both legs. The nurse told me they just wanted to watch him for a few days before they let him go home. That was quite reality check for me. I suddenly realized how lucky I was. I still didn't know when Michael would be well enough to come home but he was whole and eventually our day would come. We were pretty sure by then that he would not have any long term or permanent disabilities because of his premature birth.

Our day finally came after 7 1/2 long months. He was very small, still needed several medications and required an oxygen tent over his crib, but he was strong enough to come home! For the first couple of weeks his pediatrician wanted to see him every other day. Then it was once a week, then once every two weeks, then once a month. We had appointments with the physical therapist and the occupational therapist, who gave us exercises and activities to do with Michael at home, all to help him catch up to other babies his age. He was so far behind at that point. But every day brought new developments. He crawled two weeks before his first birthday and walked at 16 months. We sat on the floor with him that day and cried with joy.

Though I love all of my children equally, there has always been something special about watching Michael learn to walk, start school, ride a bike, drive a car, graduate from high school and then college. That tiny little baby who fought so hard to stay alive turned 29 years old yesterday and I just can't imagine what my life would have been like all these years without him. He is smart, responsible, very funny and an outstanding human being. I am so proud of him.

Happy birthday, Michael. Thanks for making me a mom!

November 10th, 1980

Can it really be 28 years already since those two little baby girls were put into my arms? I suppose so, but at times it feels like only yesterday. How they have changed and enriched my life is beyond measure. They are my best friends, my confidants, the tether that keeps me grounded in this crazy world.

To be the mother of identical twins is truly a special delight. I've always described them as white chocolate and dark chocolate....the same in so many ways but each with her own flavor. There is a quiet serenity about Shauna, a kind of peaceful aura that surrounds her. Nikki on the other hand is like a shiny little star that lights up a room whenever she enters. That's not to say that Shauna can't be boisterous and silly or Nikki solemn and contemplative. But how they each impress the world around them is as unique and individual as are their fingerprints. Their DNA may be identical but their personalities are theirs alone.

That being said, they share an incredible bond. As toddlers and as small children I saw many acts of selflessness between them. One that has always stayed with me was when one of them had gotten her clothes really muddy just before she was going to a birthday party. With no opportunity to go home and change, her sister swapped clothes with her in the bathroom. I must admit, I was a bit confused when I picked them up that day. I knew what each had been wearing when she left the house that morning but my eyes weren't seeing what my brain assumed to be correct. Finally I looked at them in the rearview mirror and asked, "Did you two switch clothes?" "Uhuh." And then they explained why. I thought to myself, how many eight year olds would do that, but to them it seemed perfectly normal.

Over the years, although they have developed as individuals, they have never strayed far from one another emotionally. Where one goes, so goes the other in her heart. Even today, separated by an ocean and a continent they are as close as two humans can be. What a special gift they share.

And, lucky me, I get to be Mom to these two incredible young women. I am so proud of who they are what they have done with their lives.

Happy Birthday, Hank and Frank! You are my heart.

President Elect Barack Hussein Obama

It's November 5th 2008 9:45am Central European Time, 4 hours and 45 minutes since Barack Obama reached and surpassed that magic number of 279 ( We are 6 hours ahead of the East Coast and 9 hours ahead of the West Coast). I had my laptop next to my bed all night with that infamous election night map on the screen. I would wake occasionally and hit refresh to see how the election was coming. I remember at one point seeing Obama 123 McCain 59 (or something like that). I went back to sleep with a smile on my face. The next thing I knew my phone was ringing at 5am. I knew it was either Michael or Shauna. It was Shauna. "Mom, we won!" I immediately reached for my computer as I tried to actually process the reality of what she was saying. We were on the phone for about 30 minutes sharing the victory as her friends celebrated in the background. The first thing I wanted to do when Shauna called was to literally run in and jump on Nikki with the news but I didn't think Bert would really appreciate that so I restrained myself. An hour later I had a live online broadcast from NBC and they were waiting for Obama to appear onstage at the rally at Grant Park in Chicago. I knew Nik would want to see his speech live, not later today on You Tube, so that's when I tentatively knocked on their bedroom door "Nik?...Nikki?" Poor Bert opened the door and almost disbelievingly I whispered "We won." Nik scrambled out of the bed with a "What?!!" "We won!" I said, " Obama is about to speak." as we both rushed back to the computer. And so we sat there, with our messy hair and pj's, alternately laughing and crying as we watched and listened to history being made.

The Audacity Of Hope

I wrote this email to the Obama Senate headquarters in December of '06 when the Junior Senator from Illinois was rumored to be considering a run for the White House. It's been a long 2 years but it looks like what began as a small kernel of hope may very well become reality today for a nation so wounded by the last eight years of incompetence, deceit and arrogance.

"I am a 49 yr old divorced mother of three grown children. I live in Tucson, Az and have been a lifelong Democrat. Like most Americans, my first exposure to Barack Obama was through the '04 Democratic National Convention. As I sat there in my living room listening to his electrifying and inspiring keynote speech, I thought to myself, “I am watching a future president” and I got very excited by what he had to say. Since that night I have watched with intense interest his explosion onto the national political scene. I have downloaded and listened to every speech and interview I could find. I have sent many to friends and family, Democrat and Republican alike, including several who reside temporarily or permanently outside of the U.S. .

For the first time I feel as if I am listening to a truly honest politician. Not just someone who represents my political party but someone who also shares my political beliefs. Someone who believes passionately in the need for a change of direction in this country. When I listen to his position on important national issues I feel as if my voice is being heard.

I believe we need Barack Obama in the White House now. Never in my adult life have Americans been so betrayed by those who are supposed to measure their decisions and actions against our interests and well being. When I look at the other potential candidates for president, although perhaps not as deceitful or corrupt as those in positions of power now, I still see more of the same ol' same ol' of American politics. In Barack Obama I see an honest and earnest man.

Now, more than any time since Watergate, the American people need a leader they can trust. We need a president who will humbly and courageously lead us back to a position of respect among the other nations of the world and who will make decisions here at home based on a sense of humanity and responsibility to those in his charge. I see only one candidate in whom I would put my trust to make the changes that are so desperately needed for this country. I have never actively campaigned for any politician, but I will enthusiastically volunteer my time for Senator Obama’s campaign. I believe in his personal integrity and his political motives. And I believe America needs him now.
Connie Eggers "

As an American, I am proud of the way in which Barack Obama has conducted his campaign, proud that I was a supporter even before he announced his candidacy and will, for the first time, be proud of the man, both personally and politically, who holds the highest elected office in our nation.

Your Country Needs You

This is the most important election of our time. The outcome of this election will determine what direction our economy takes in the coming decade, how we are viewed abroad, national security policies, the healthcare of many Americans and the next steps in Iraq and Afghanistan just to name a few of the issues that we, as a nation, are facing.

We have two very different candidates from whom to choose. Everyone who knows me knows my political leanings. That's not my point here. My point is that we should ALL make our voices heard. Now is the time to exercise our most precious of constitutional rights. Vote. Whether you support Barack Obama or John McCain is your own personal decision but put that support into action. Don't be a cynic (elections are all fixed anyway) or a defeatist (my candidate won't win) or self dismissive (my one vote won't count) or an early celebrant (he's so far ahead that he doesn't need my one vote) or just plain lazy (it's too cold, I'm too busy).

There are so many excuses we can find not to vote but also a few pretty good reasons to vote:
It is our constitutional right.
Our children.
Countless men and women have fought and died in the last 232 years , at home and abroad, to give and protect that right... for us.
It is the cornerstone of a free society.
It is our country, not the Democratic or Republican parties' country. We have the final say.
And last but not least....if you don't vote, don't bitch!