I am amazed at the level of grief being exhibited over the death of Michael Jackson. The man was undeniably talented. But he was also a pedophile! Ah, I can hear some of you now..."But that was never proven". Yeah, well, when you have the money to buy off your victim's families....
OJ Simpson got off too. Anyone really believe he was innocent? I see Michael Jackson in the same light. A man who got away with a terrible crime. The difference is that OJ Simpson didn't have as many fans as Michael Jackson. Fans who choose to ignore the horrible things he did in light of his talent as an artist.
Hitler was a talented artist, too. But you won't see any of his paintings on my wall! What's that you say? "Hitler was responsible for the death of 12 million people. How can you compare MJ to Adolf Hitler?" I can because they were both dishonorable human beings with no compassion for their victims.
If Jackson were the middle aged balding untalented pedophile who lived down the street we would all being saying, "Good riddance to bad rubbish". Well, I still say, "Good riddance to bad rubbish"! How can anyone who has children defend the reputation of this man? How can anyone who even knows a child? Children are to be protected and nurtured. Michael Jackson used his celebrity to abuse the most innocent of our society and the public let him get away with it because they liked his music! Evidently OJ Simpson wasn't as good a football player as Jackson was a singer and dancer. Poor Adolf also failed in the popularity contest.
I'm not saying that we cannot overlook the chinks in the armor of our "heros". There are many celebs whose behavior I disapprove of but I can still admire their work. Their job is to entertain me. What they do with the rest of their lives is not my concern. I grew up with Michael Jackson's music. I loved the Jackson 5 when I was a teenager. And I liked a lot of his later music, too. Jackson got increasingly weird as he got older. No crime there. No reason to stone the man for being eccentric. If that had been all there was to it I would have no problem with the outpouring of grief over his death. But that is not all there is to it! I cannot ignore the fact that he molested young boys. In light of that, all else pales.
Scumbag trumps legend.
The Scottish Saltire
Friday, June 26, 2009
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Family Time Part I
The past couple of weeks have been busy, busy, busy! Michael was here from the 4th to the 13th . Shauna arrived two days after Michael got here and Steve flew in from Africa on the 10th (He just spent two months working on a linguistics project in Mali!).
Nikki put a lot of time and effort into creating and coordinating our group itinerary for the duration of Michael's visit (It was his first trip back to Germany since we left in '93). We took him to Neustadt the day he arrived. It's such a pretty little town and it made for an enjoyable but relaxing afternoon. It was really fun to watch Michael's excitement at being here and taking pictures of him with all the unique Neustadt-y stuff. We met Nik's friends, Linda and Clemens, for dinner that evening (Schnitzel und Pommes, naturlich!). We decided it was time to go home when poor Michael threatened to fall asleep in his beer. The next day the three of us made what we have affectionately dubbed 'the pilgrimage'. It's the trip back to Ramstein-Miesenbach and Kaiserslautern that we have each made as part of our first trip back to Germany. The twins did it when Nikki first moved back here in Sept. of '06 and I did it when I visited Nik in the summer of '07. So this time it was Michael's turn. It really is strange, the first time going back there, really like bringing a memory back to life. Some things have changed but some things are exactly the same as they were when we first moved to Miesenbach over 20 years ago.We even ran into Karin Nasshan while we were visiting Waldstrasse 3b and 3c! Her parents owned 3b when we lived there. Dave and Nena lived below us and Karin lived above us. She owns the house now and lives there with her husband and daughter.
Shauna arrived on Saturday and that evening the four of us had dinner at my apt. I had asked her to bring me a bottle of good tequila when she came (the tequila here is just crap) never dreaming that she would bring Herradura! But she did! If you're a tequila lover (as I am) and have never had Herradura then you are missing out on something wonderful. After dinner we met up with Linda and Clemens again; this time at Murphy's Law, an Irish pub here in Mannheim. They both know Nikki as 'just Nikki' and I know they were looking forward to meeting her identical twin, whom they had heard so much about. It's always a fun time at Murphy's but after a few beers it was time to bring Michael and Shauna home and put their poor little jet lagged selves to bed. I slept well that night with all three of my kids here. The girls in the extra bedroom and Michael on the couch in the living room. The next morning we had a big breakfast, yak, yak, yakked, played on the computer, listened to music and just generally bumped around in our jammies until mid afternoon when we all migrated over to Nikki's place.
That evening found the four of us sitting at Hemmingway's, a bar in Ludwigshafen, engrossed in conversation about Watergate and American presidential politics.
On Monday we employed trains, busses and our own 8 feet to get us to the very impressive Burg Berwartstein where we toured the castle, ate at the cafe, and picked up a few postcards before deciding to go to France for dinner....since we were so close. Shauna, still being so jet lagged, was lulled into peaceful slumber for most of the bus ride and missed the beautiful scenery along the way. After about an hour we arrived in Wissembourg. We poked around for a while and then settled ourselves at an outdoor cafe that one of Nikki's students happened to have previously recommended to her. Michael took the opportunity to venture into the rubbery world of escargo while the girls and I opted for wine, Irish coffee and cake. After that it was a lovely walk back through the town to the train station where we boarded our train for home.
Tuesday morning found us back on the Deutsche Bahn. This time headed north. First stop...Koeln (Cologne) to show Michael the Koelner Dom, one of the most impressive cathedrals in Germany. I used to take tour groups there on a fairly regular basis back in my USO days so I was excited to go back, this time with my kids. We took the guided tour in English and I tried not to roll my eyes when the guide began telling us about the magnificently adorned chest at the high alter which contained the bones of the Three Wise Men.....yes, THOSE three wise men! It seems like every important cathedral in Europe somehow manages to have some biblical relic or another. The cathedral in Trier claims to have the Holy Robe of Christ (the garment worn during the crucifixtion).
All of that aside, though, visiting the beautiful churches of Europe is one of my favorite things to do. I stand in awe of the vision of those long ago architects, stonemasons, and carpenters who gave decades and sometimes their entire lives to the building of these churches. The evidence of their dedication is in the beauty and grandeur of their craftsmanship. To wander through these magnificent structures that have endured through centuries of time is like reaching back and touching history, touching the lives of those ordinary people who knowingly or unknowingly gave us gifts beyond measure. To me the treasure is not in what these churches purportedly hold within their walls. The treasure is in the stories and the history of the people who built them.
From Koeln we headed to Bonn and the birthplace of Beethoven. I'm not really a fan of any kind of classical music but the kids were all exposed to Beethoven at a very young age and the love of his music is a gift from their father. The house where Ludwig was born is now a museum and holds an extensive and impressive array of Beethoven memorabilia and historical documents. I found it all very interesting but no more so than any other 'birth-house turned museum'. It wasn't the emotional experience for me that it was for the kids. I wish I could have exchanged myself for Wade for those few hours. It really should have been him going from room to room and display case to display case with them, listening to bits of music, seeing the pianos, reading the letters. I've enjoyed lots of wonderful travel experiences with my kids but this one rightfully belonged to their father. It would have made it so much more special to share it with Dad.
One of the things that we wanted to do while Michael was here was to take an afternoon cruise up the Rhine River but we just couldn't fit it in. So we were pleasantly surprised when the train ride home from Bonn followed right along the river for a good bit of time which included the route we would have taken had we been on a boat. So Michael still got to see the Lorelei Rock, the vineyards and all the cool castles along the river, albeit in a rather sped up fashion. And, as expected, he let out a loud guffaw as we passed the river town of Assmanshausen.
We got home pretty late that night and I was happy to kiss my kids goodnight as I got off the train in Mannheim and they continued on across the river to Ludwigshafen. We were all looking forward to Steve's arrival the next day coupled with the fact that Bert was going to be able to take a few days off from work as well. We had lots more fun stuff planned. To be continued......
Nikki put a lot of time and effort into creating and coordinating our group itinerary for the duration of Michael's visit (It was his first trip back to Germany since we left in '93). We took him to Neustadt the day he arrived. It's such a pretty little town and it made for an enjoyable but relaxing afternoon. It was really fun to watch Michael's excitement at being here and taking pictures of him with all the unique Neustadt-y stuff. We met Nik's friends, Linda and Clemens, for dinner that evening (Schnitzel und Pommes, naturlich!). We decided it was time to go home when poor Michael threatened to fall asleep in his beer. The next day the three of us made what we have affectionately dubbed 'the pilgrimage'. It's the trip back to Ramstein-Miesenbach and Kaiserslautern that we have each made as part of our first trip back to Germany. The twins did it when Nikki first moved back here in Sept. of '06 and I did it when I visited Nik in the summer of '07. So this time it was Michael's turn. It really is strange, the first time going back there, really like bringing a memory back to life. Some things have changed but some things are exactly the same as they were when we first moved to Miesenbach over 20 years ago.We even ran into Karin Nasshan while we were visiting Waldstrasse 3b and 3c! Her parents owned 3b when we lived there. Dave and Nena lived below us and Karin lived above us. She owns the house now and lives there with her husband and daughter.
Shauna arrived on Saturday and that evening the four of us had dinner at my apt. I had asked her to bring me a bottle of good tequila when she came (the tequila here is just crap) never dreaming that she would bring Herradura! But she did! If you're a tequila lover (as I am) and have never had Herradura then you are missing out on something wonderful. After dinner we met up with Linda and Clemens again; this time at Murphy's Law, an Irish pub here in Mannheim. They both know Nikki as 'just Nikki' and I know they were looking forward to meeting her identical twin, whom they had heard so much about. It's always a fun time at Murphy's but after a few beers it was time to bring Michael and Shauna home and put their poor little jet lagged selves to bed. I slept well that night with all three of my kids here. The girls in the extra bedroom and Michael on the couch in the living room. The next morning we had a big breakfast, yak, yak, yakked, played on the computer, listened to music and just generally bumped around in our jammies until mid afternoon when we all migrated over to Nikki's place.
That evening found the four of us sitting at Hemmingway's, a bar in Ludwigshafen, engrossed in conversation about Watergate and American presidential politics.
On Monday we employed trains, busses and our own 8 feet to get us to the very impressive Burg Berwartstein where we toured the castle, ate at the cafe, and picked up a few postcards before deciding to go to France for dinner....since we were so close. Shauna, still being so jet lagged, was lulled into peaceful slumber for most of the bus ride and missed the beautiful scenery along the way. After about an hour we arrived in Wissembourg. We poked around for a while and then settled ourselves at an outdoor cafe that one of Nikki's students happened to have previously recommended to her. Michael took the opportunity to venture into the rubbery world of escargo while the girls and I opted for wine, Irish coffee and cake. After that it was a lovely walk back through the town to the train station where we boarded our train for home.
Tuesday morning found us back on the Deutsche Bahn. This time headed north. First stop...Koeln (Cologne) to show Michael the Koelner Dom, one of the most impressive cathedrals in Germany. I used to take tour groups there on a fairly regular basis back in my USO days so I was excited to go back, this time with my kids. We took the guided tour in English and I tried not to roll my eyes when the guide began telling us about the magnificently adorned chest at the high alter which contained the bones of the Three Wise Men.....yes, THOSE three wise men! It seems like every important cathedral in Europe somehow manages to have some biblical relic or another. The cathedral in Trier claims to have the Holy Robe of Christ (the garment worn during the crucifixtion).
All of that aside, though, visiting the beautiful churches of Europe is one of my favorite things to do. I stand in awe of the vision of those long ago architects, stonemasons, and carpenters who gave decades and sometimes their entire lives to the building of these churches. The evidence of their dedication is in the beauty and grandeur of their craftsmanship. To wander through these magnificent structures that have endured through centuries of time is like reaching back and touching history, touching the lives of those ordinary people who knowingly or unknowingly gave us gifts beyond measure. To me the treasure is not in what these churches purportedly hold within their walls. The treasure is in the stories and the history of the people who built them.
From Koeln we headed to Bonn and the birthplace of Beethoven. I'm not really a fan of any kind of classical music but the kids were all exposed to Beethoven at a very young age and the love of his music is a gift from their father. The house where Ludwig was born is now a museum and holds an extensive and impressive array of Beethoven memorabilia and historical documents. I found it all very interesting but no more so than any other 'birth-house turned museum'. It wasn't the emotional experience for me that it was for the kids. I wish I could have exchanged myself for Wade for those few hours. It really should have been him going from room to room and display case to display case with them, listening to bits of music, seeing the pianos, reading the letters. I've enjoyed lots of wonderful travel experiences with my kids but this one rightfully belonged to their father. It would have made it so much more special to share it with Dad.
One of the things that we wanted to do while Michael was here was to take an afternoon cruise up the Rhine River but we just couldn't fit it in. So we were pleasantly surprised when the train ride home from Bonn followed right along the river for a good bit of time which included the route we would have taken had we been on a boat. So Michael still got to see the Lorelei Rock, the vineyards and all the cool castles along the river, albeit in a rather sped up fashion. And, as expected, he let out a loud guffaw as we passed the river town of Assmanshausen.
We got home pretty late that night and I was happy to kiss my kids goodnight as I got off the train in Mannheim and they continued on across the river to Ludwigshafen. We were all looking forward to Steve's arrival the next day coupled with the fact that Bert was going to be able to take a few days off from work as well. We had lots more fun stuff planned. To be continued......
Friday, May 29, 2009
Bonk! Bonk! Bonk!
OK, I know I've gone a bit video crazy lately, but this one is just too cute not to post!
Thursday, May 21, 2009
A Funny Thing Happened On The Way To The Ballet...or...Dancing With The Stars
When Barbara and Peter invited me to go to the ballet I assumed it would be a classical performance. Having never been to a ballet before, I enthusiastically accepted their invitation. But as it turned out tonight's performance was not classical at all. It was a performance by Hubbard Street Dance Chicago a modern dance troupe from, well....Chicago. Afterward, Barbara explained to me that there really isn't a distinction made between the different types of dance that one might see when attending the Mannheim Ballet. So tonight was not what I had expected at all. No ballet slippers, no tutus, no swans. But, rather, a high energy show by a group of amazing young dancers accompanied by really good music. I was not in the least disappointed. I love modern dance. I am always amazed at the beauty that can be created by the movement of the human body. The first part of the performance had a very classical feel to it, though. Very smooth and romantic dances but definitely with a modern flair. The curtain came down for the first intermission and I was pleased with the show so far and looking forward to the the next two segments.
After about a 20 minute intermission we settled back down into our seats for the second part of the performance. It was at this point that the dancers really ratcheted up the energy level. The next 15 or 16 minutes was a chaotic visual feast. All 12-14 dancers were on stage at the same time. Sometimes they were all moving; sometimes only 1 or 2...or 4 or 5. They were all wearing jeans or dark khakis or some other nondescript type of pants. What really caught my eye, though, were their shirts. Nothing special, just what you might see anyone wearing walking down the street. But each one was a different solid color. This use of color combined with the energetic dance movements of so many people at once looked to me like a rainbow of popping corn. It was fabulous!
After the second intermission about 9 of the dancers came out wearing oversized dark men's suits and hats. Their dancing was less frenetic than before but no less athletic or amazing. Then they all suddenly walked down the steps and off the stage. They positioned themselves at various points in the audience with one young man standing right next to me. Hmmm....thinks me. I wonder what they're doing? Next thing I know this young man held out his hand to me and beckoned me to come with him! As did the other dancers, each to a different audience member. As I put my hand in his and left my seat I heard myself thinking, Oh this might not be such a good idea. But he put his other arm around me and, oh so gracefully, escorted me up on the stage. I had no idea what to expect but it was certainly too late at this point to chicken out so I just decided to have fun with it....whatever it was! It was great! We were like interactive props. They danced around us, with us, and at us. All to the music of the Bossanova. All I could think of at that moment was the movie Born Romantic and wished I had, at some point in my life, taken Latin dance lessons. They had us up there for probably ten minutes, most of which are truthfully kind of blur to me, but I'm pretty sure I had fun. One by one, they released us to go back to our seats where we all watched the rest of the show wondering, What the hell just happened to me?
As we were leaving the theater, afterward, Barbara, Peter and I were laughing about the whole thing and Peter showed me the picture he had taken with his phone of me on stage. I asked him to email it to me. I'll add it to this post when I get it but for now suffice to say that it was a wonderful dance performance (theirs, not mine!) and my unexpected little excursion into the spotlight definitely made it an evening to remember!
After about a 20 minute intermission we settled back down into our seats for the second part of the performance. It was at this point that the dancers really ratcheted up the energy level. The next 15 or 16 minutes was a chaotic visual feast. All 12-14 dancers were on stage at the same time. Sometimes they were all moving; sometimes only 1 or 2...or 4 or 5. They were all wearing jeans or dark khakis or some other nondescript type of pants. What really caught my eye, though, were their shirts. Nothing special, just what you might see anyone wearing walking down the street. But each one was a different solid color. This use of color combined with the energetic dance movements of so many people at once looked to me like a rainbow of popping corn. It was fabulous!
After the second intermission about 9 of the dancers came out wearing oversized dark men's suits and hats. Their dancing was less frenetic than before but no less athletic or amazing. Then they all suddenly walked down the steps and off the stage. They positioned themselves at various points in the audience with one young man standing right next to me. Hmmm....thinks me. I wonder what they're doing? Next thing I know this young man held out his hand to me and beckoned me to come with him! As did the other dancers, each to a different audience member. As I put my hand in his and left my seat I heard myself thinking, Oh this might not be such a good idea. But he put his other arm around me and, oh so gracefully, escorted me up on the stage. I had no idea what to expect but it was certainly too late at this point to chicken out so I just decided to have fun with it....whatever it was! It was great! We were like interactive props. They danced around us, with us, and at us. All to the music of the Bossanova. All I could think of at that moment was the movie Born Romantic and wished I had, at some point in my life, taken Latin dance lessons. They had us up there for probably ten minutes, most of which are truthfully kind of blur to me, but I'm pretty sure I had fun. One by one, they released us to go back to our seats where we all watched the rest of the show wondering, What the hell just happened to me?
As we were leaving the theater, afterward, Barbara, Peter and I were laughing about the whole thing and Peter showed me the picture he had taken with his phone of me on stage. I asked him to email it to me. I'll add it to this post when I get it but for now suffice to say that it was a wonderful dance performance (theirs, not mine!) and my unexpected little excursion into the spotlight definitely made it an evening to remember!
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
An Amazing Voice
So you all know that I love everything Scottish. Why else would I have quit my job, sold my house and dismantled my life in Arizona to chase my dream of living in The Scottish Highlands and studying the history of this amazing country?
When I think of spending my days in an academic environment with other people who are just as daft about the history of Scotland as I am I feel like a little kid waiting for the first day of school. Wait....I am. Well, not a little kid, certainly, but waiting for the first day of school, definitely (Sept 7th)! I have learned so much of Scotland's history on my own but I can't wait to get into the classroom where there are teachers who know a hell of a lot more than I do and who are there to share their knowledge!
But there is much more to Scotland than just her political and social history. Like music! When the twins and I were in Inverness in July of '07 we saw a traditional folk band called Shiehallion. They blew my socks off. Just three guys...one on the pipes, one on the accordion and the front man, Kenny Jamieson. Kenny plays the acoustic guitar and the bodhran and is the sole singer in the group. He has a powerful voice that, in my opinion, is so perfectly suited for the music he sings. Songs about Scottish battles and patriots, songs about home and identity and cultural pride. I bought a compilation CD that night of a variety of traditional artists who have played at that venue and I really enjoy the entire CD but my favorite song has always been the song that Kenny sings, called Hush, Hush, about the Highland Clearances. Shiehallion recently released their own CD and Nikki surprised me with a copy of it last month. I have to admit that it's a good thing it's not on vinyl. It would be worn out by now. I listen to it all the time.
Ok, here's where I have to make a confession. Kenny has such a strong and wonderful Scottish accent that my American ears have difficulty understanding what he's singing. Not to be deterred, I have seached out the song lyrics, some from Shiehallion's website, others from different Internet sites. It's funny how, once I know the words, the songs sound so clear to me. I can't imagine how I couldn't have gotten the lyrics just by listening!
The website administrator has put a bunch of live performance videos on YouTube and there is a link to them from the website. Shiehallion does some great rousing songs, too, but the ballads are my favorites.
Here are a couple of samples.
I can't wait to get to Inverness and be able to listen live whenever I want. Student by day, Barfly by night!
When I think of spending my days in an academic environment with other people who are just as daft about the history of Scotland as I am I feel like a little kid waiting for the first day of school. Wait....I am. Well, not a little kid, certainly, but waiting for the first day of school, definitely (Sept 7th)! I have learned so much of Scotland's history on my own but I can't wait to get into the classroom where there are teachers who know a hell of a lot more than I do and who are there to share their knowledge!
But there is much more to Scotland than just her political and social history. Like music! When the twins and I were in Inverness in July of '07 we saw a traditional folk band called Shiehallion. They blew my socks off. Just three guys...one on the pipes, one on the accordion and the front man, Kenny Jamieson. Kenny plays the acoustic guitar and the bodhran and is the sole singer in the group. He has a powerful voice that, in my opinion, is so perfectly suited for the music he sings. Songs about Scottish battles and patriots, songs about home and identity and cultural pride. I bought a compilation CD that night of a variety of traditional artists who have played at that venue and I really enjoy the entire CD but my favorite song has always been the song that Kenny sings, called Hush, Hush, about the Highland Clearances. Shiehallion recently released their own CD and Nikki surprised me with a copy of it last month. I have to admit that it's a good thing it's not on vinyl. It would be worn out by now. I listen to it all the time.
Ok, here's where I have to make a confession. Kenny has such a strong and wonderful Scottish accent that my American ears have difficulty understanding what he's singing. Not to be deterred, I have seached out the song lyrics, some from Shiehallion's website, others from different Internet sites. It's funny how, once I know the words, the songs sound so clear to me. I can't imagine how I couldn't have gotten the lyrics just by listening!
The website administrator has put a bunch of live performance videos on YouTube and there is a link to them from the website. Shiehallion does some great rousing songs, too, but the ballads are my favorites.
Here are a couple of samples.
I can't wait to get to Inverness and be able to listen live whenever I want. Student by day, Barfly by night!
Friday, May 15, 2009
Law and Order BFD
I can't believe I found this before Michael did!
Law And Order: BFD from This American Life on Vimeo.
Sunday, May 3, 2009
Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!......
How many talk show hosts would hang their dignity out to dry like this?
...and one more
I crack up every time I watch those.
...and one more
I crack up every time I watch those.
Friday, May 1, 2009
BA (Hons) Scottish History at UHI
I was just surfing the college's website and drooling over the classes for the Scottish History program. I'm sooo excited! Take a peek if you want to see what I'm going to be studying over the next 4 years.
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.
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 SÃ. 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......
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......
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
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!
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!
Monday, April 20, 2009
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.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
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
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.....
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.....
Monday, April 13, 2009
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!
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!
Monday, April 6, 2009
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.
Saturday, April 4, 2009
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!
Many happy years together, Carie and Edward!
Friday, March 27, 2009
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."!
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."!
Monday, March 23, 2009
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:
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!
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
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!
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!
Sunday, March 8, 2009
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...
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...
Sunday, February 15, 2009
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.
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.
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.
Friday, January 30, 2009
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.
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.
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Scotland's Bard
Tomorrow is the 250th anniversary of the birth of Scotland's favorite son. Robert Burns was a poet and a lyricist.
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!
'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.'
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
Thursday, January 22, 2009
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.
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.
Friday, January 9, 2009
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.
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.
Monday, January 5, 2009
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".
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".
Sunday, January 4, 2009
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!
Take that, late night hosts who need a script to be funny!
Thursday, January 1, 2009
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.
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.
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