Merry Christmas

My mom called me last week and said that she had gotten a Christmas present from my dad. She said that she heard a poem on the radio, and she believes that Daddy sent it for her. I agree.

Today, in my complete insanity, before we could open presents, I made the girls help me unpack some of the boxes in the dining room so I could find my good glasses to use for Christmas dinner. We didn't need them at Thanksgiving because we weren't at home, but I really wanted them for Christmas. We didn't have them last year either, and I was tired of waiting. So I came across a smaller box that was packed inside a big dish box. I knew it wasn't my holiday glassware, but I wanted to see what was in the smaller box.

Inside the box was a note from my dad. It was a list of things that were in the box (things that came from his mom's house), and a note at the bottom to me. I remember Daddy giving me the box and telling me what was inside, but I don't think I'd opened it before. I started crying because I'd gotten a Christmas gift from Daddy, too, and I was just insane enough to actually be opening it on Christmas morning.

I miss you, Daddy.

Merry Christmas!

A very emotional day

I expected that last Christmas would be the last Christmas with my dad on this side of heaven, and so I knew this Christmas season would be tough, even as far back as last Christmas season. But today was really tough.

My oldest was singing in the youth choir today at the Methodist church for both the 8:30 and the 11:00 service. So we all went to the early service, and then stayed for Sunday School and the 11:00 service, too. We sang "Hark the Herald Angels" today, and the alto part is too high, but I can't sing tenor on the hymns anymore because I think of Daddy and I start to cry. We also sang "Once in Royal David's City," which also made me think about Daddy, so that was difficult to sing also.

I went to Sunday school and enjoyed it. Pastor Carlos talked to us about Christmas traditions in Mexico, and I learned a lot about Mexico and the Spanish language. We also discussed the origins of various traditions. I like Carlos.

Then I went to the second service, which is pretty much the same service as the first service, except that there is a baby dedication in the 11:00 service. I didn't think much about it before time, but at the beginning of the dedication service, I realized that I hadn't seen a baby dedication in years. I usually go to the early service, and baby dedications seem to happen in the later services. As I listened to the parents promise to avoid sin, follow Jesus at all costs, to raise their child for the Lord, it hit me really hard that at one time Darin had promised all of those things,too. It made me really sad. Every time they said "I do" or "I will", it felt like another knife in my heart. The baby's grandfather was a minister, so after the vows had been said, the pastor let the grandfather pray the prayer and do the baptism. The grandfather's prayer just broke my heart because it reminded me so much of my dad, and how happy he was with his four granddaughters.

I've been a wreck all afternoon. I just want to be left alone, and I can't explain to the girls what is going on in my head and in my heart.

December's Beautiful Picture from Tennessee

Limbo

I finished all my grading for the Belmont courses. It's a relief to be finished, but I still don't know if I'm teaching next semester or not. It would be nice to teach another semester now that I have this semester under my belt, but it would also be nice to have a break. I have several people now I'm trying to convince that they should be my new clients. I'd really like to do a mailing, too, to drum up more business for my courses. Plus, I have some catching up to do for grading for the girls, and I would love to have more time to scrapbook (I still have a couple of pictures to paste in my Japan book).

On the other hand, I'm getting a lot of French done on the long commutes to Belmont. I feel like I'm finally getting the hang of sentence structure and basic verb forms. It's funny, though, what they've taught me and what they haven't. For example, I know the words for January, February, Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday, but not the other months or the other days of the week. And we've learned the names for France, Belgium, Italy, England, and Canada. And I know how to ask about the time and the weather, but they keep making me practice asking about the weather in Canada or in England in January or February --- "Il faisait très froid au Canada en janvier et en février." And I can order coffee, beer, or wine, but I don't drink any of those, though I can order milk because they taught me that (I might need milk in my coffee). But, realistically, I do know that Diet Coke is "Coca-Cola Lite" in France, so I suppose I don't need to know anything else to drink. I've been renting French movies, and I'm really enjoying listening to the French. Maybe I'll learn the other months and some good things to eat that way.

So I haven't been doing a lot of reading, and I'm not working on scrapbooks, and now, possibly, no more long commutes to learn French. I guess I'm feeling a little bit lost tonight. I should probably review some algebra for the girls tonight, but I think I'll read Dumas instead.

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Poison Ivy and Thanksgiving

I have had a really miserable case of poison ivy. It seems that I got it from the laundry, so even though I never go out into it, I have a rash over about a fourth of my body. Darin had better be more careful because I don't want to go through this again.

The rash made it difficult to concentrate. I also found it difficult to read before bed because I scratched too much, so I started playing computer games instead to take my mind off things and keep myself from scratching. I tried to blog a couple of times, but I just couldn't keep my mind on anything other than how completely uncomfortable I was.

I finally went to the doctor. He was grossed out, so you know that's a bad sign. He gave me a shot of cortisone and prescriptions for an oral antibiotic (it was very infected), and antibiotic cream, and an anti-itch cream. He told me also to get lots of rest and take lots of oral Benedryl. So then even after I started feeling better, I still didn't feel much like sitting at the computer, and I was too tired to lay in bed and read.

But the rash is almost gone now, and the infection is definitely cleared up.

Darin took the kids to see his parents for Thanksgiving, and I went to see my mom. While I was at my mom's, I did get some scrapbooking finished. I had gotten behind in my writing in the books because of a bad infection in my finger and under the nail. (That was before the poison ivy incident.) So I spent a lot of time writing in my big book, and I also worked on my book from the trip to Japan in 1999. I almost have the Japan book finished, but I ran out of the pink paper that matches the cherry blossoms, so I didn't get that completely finished either.

Belmont finals are the end of this week and next week, and I will have grading to do this next week.

The kids are well and working hard at school. Only two full weeks before Christmas break. I'm looking forward to their break so that we can do some fun things here in Nashville, like visiting the lights at Opryland. I'm also hoping to get to see my mom again before Christmas.

Choir again

Today was the Celebration Service for the 300th anniversary of Charles Wesley's birthday. I sang in a 150 voice choir from several area Methodist churches. We had a real orchestra, plus their incredible pipe organ and the piano. It was so much fun to sing in a big choir like that.

I loved the hymns we sang: "O, For a Thousand Tongues to Sing," "Praise the Lord Who Reigns Above," "Sing with Glad Anticipation," "Rejoice, the Lord is King," "Love Divine, All Loves Excelling," "Thankful for our Ev'ry Blessing," "A Charge to Keep I Have," "The Vigilance Our Lord Demands," "Jesus, Lover of my Soul," and "And Can it Be?" (which is maybe my favorite hymn).

It's very different from singing in the choir at the Anglican church. I was always so conscious of getting my vowels to sound like the Britishers in the choir. The directors were very patient with me. But here, it's very different. There are more people, for one thing, but I think that there are also people from all over the country, and Elliot has trouble getting all of us to use the same vowel sounds. It's nice for me, in a way, because I don't feel so out of place, but in another way it's harder because I'm sometimes not sure of what vowel sounds to use.

The girls tease me because now when I say the Our Father, I say "trespasses" like a British person. I'm not even sure how I say it, or how I used to say it. Oh well. I'm happy that some of that wonderful church in Luxembourg has stayed with me.

November's Beautiful Picture from Tennessee

The girls had wanted braces so badly before we moved to Luxembourg, and then while we were there, we had no idea how to make it happen. Now, after a year and a half in the States, now that we have dental insurance, and I had a part-time job to pay for them, my two older girls have their braces. Fortunately, my youngest doesn't need braces on her teeth, so that will save us some money!

After all the begging and the tears, it's so nice to finally have it taken care of.

October's Beautiful Picture from Tennessee

Not quite so Lost

I did it. I figured out how to walk downhill both ways in the Belmont parking garage. (For more information on this problem, please see the previous post titled "Lost".)

Today I parked fairly close to where I was when I got lost in the parking garage. I was on the row that goes downhill between level 6 and level 5. Since the day I got lost, I also figured out that there are two elevators in the garage, one on the west side and one on the east. The row I was on goes from west to east, downhill. So I walked downhill to the east elevator and rode from level 5 down to the "pedestrian level", and when I finished teaching, I walked to the west elevator and went up to level 6, and then walked downhill to my car. It was very exciting.

Holy Spaces and a new church

My mom and I visited a new church when she came to visit in August, and I realized so much that I've been missing my church in Luxembourg.

Today, the girls decided to go with me to "the organ church" because of communion. It's World Communion Sunday, according to the Methodists, so in honor of that, they invited the choir from a Korean church. The ladies were wearing traditional dresses, and they all looked so beautiful.

After church, the girls and I went up to look at the organ. It has three keyboards (I've forgotten what they are called as a group, besides their individual names: Great, Swell, and Choir), and at least 3 octaves of pedals. The pipes and the trumpets are so beautiful, along with the really beautiful windows in that church.

A history of the project, some good photos, and specifications on the organ are on the Milnar Organ site.

Pictures of the sanctuary windows are on the First United Methodist of Murfreesboro site on their Photographs page.

In Sunday school one day at the Assembly of God church we had been (or still are?) attending, one of the ladies was saying that it was disgusting to look at all the opulence of the European cathedrals, especially in the Vatican. I think she's wrong. I think there is something to be said for holy spaces. Solomon's temple was filled with holy and opulent things. The tent of the tabernacle as well. I think that the concept of a holy space is entirely Biblical, and it makes me sad when churches have no regard for this concept at all. It's nice to be in a church again that understands the idea. Is it too much to have stained glass windows and a pipe organ if that makes the sanctuary a holy space and helps lead us all toward God? I think it's exactly the right idea.

Hopefully, we'll make it to choir practice next Sunday.

It's just so amazing to have this church in the middle of nowhere in Tennessee. I'm really starting to feel more at home.

Lost

I'm so far behind in blogging, and there is so much to say, and I'm so tired.

I had yet another break-down today. I suppose that partly it was related to my thinking about Dad, but partly related to frustration. Though I hesitate to mention this because it sounds like a joke, I got lost in the parking garage after teaching today. I remembered walking downhill to the elevator in the morning, and I got on the elevator at Level 5. So as I was leaving, I decided to go up to Level 6 so I could walk downhill to get to my car instead of walking up the ramp from Level 5.

When I was a child, my dad used to give classes on how to give IQ tests to little kids. My brother and I used to help him with his demonstrations. I don't remember a lot of details about the test or the classes, except for this one day and one question. There was a set of questions where Dad would read a story, and we had to tell what was wrong with the story. One day, as I was telling what was wrong with the story, everyone in the class started laughing. I looked at Dad to see what was wrong, and he said, "Honey, I have to ask the question first." After that, I didn't get to go with Dad to his classes anymore, and I felt really sad about it. The story was about a man who would walk downhill to the store and downhill back to his house, and the answer to the question was that he couldn't walk downhill both ways.

So today I'm trying to walk downhill both ways in the parking garage by getting off at Level 6, but somehow I made it down to Level 4, and I didn't pass my car. While I was on Level 4, I knew that my car was just above where I was, but I somehow never made it to that particular row on Level 5, and I couldn't figure out how to get there. Eventually, I found my way back to the elevator on Level 4, and I rode back up to Level 6 and tried it again, and this time I managed to walk past my car. I really think that I didn't even go down the right row the first time, not that I walked right past and missed it. But I'm not really sure. It's hard to see through the tears sometimes.

Sunday was the six-month anniversary of Daddy's death. I went to the Methodist church because I knew I couldn't handle the Assembly of God church. The people at the Methodist church are nice, and I love the organ music and the choir. I'm going back because they will have communion and the Assembly of God church won't because they don't do communion.

The choirs at the Methodist church start practicing for Christmas next week. I'd really like to start going to choir practice. They have bell choirs, too, though I've never tried that before.

I have lots of things to blog about, but I'm too tired. Getting lost is really exhausting.

September's Beautiful Picture from Tennessee

Avast, me mateys!

Today is International Talk Like a Pirate Day. If you search for Luxembourg in the pictures on their website, you can still find our pirate celebration from Luxembourg.

French lessons

My best friend in high school has a mom who is an English professor. They named their dog D'Artagnan. Not only did I have no idea of how to pronounce something that was French, I also had no idea who D'Artagnan was named for or what book it came from. Fran encouraged me to read The Three Musketeers by Alexandre Dumas, especially since Richard Chamberlain was in the movie version. So I read it, and I eventually even saw that version of the movie. I liked the story, but at the time, I had no idea of where the places mentioned were, or how to pronounce any of the names, and I didn't understand any of the Latin or French that made it's way into the book. So many of the men seemed so silly to risk so much for a woman.

Now that I'm an adult, I still think it's silly that men would risk so much for another man's wife, but I understand everything so much better now.

I've been reading scholarly books about the history of French love poetry, and how it relates to other works in literature, like Dante's Divine Comedy. Understanding more about the tradition of French romance literature helped me understand more of the motives of the men in the story. Understanding more the layout of Paris, France, and England helped me understand the geography of the story more. I know enough French to be able to pronounce the names, and I know enough Latin to translate when Aramis speaks in Latin. It had been long enough ago that I had forgotten the plot, for the most part, so though I knew somewhat who was going to survive until the end of the story, I was genuinely surprised by some of the plot twists.

The pace is quick, and dialog and characters really charming and funny. It's easy to see why Alexandre Dumas is such a renowned author all over the world.

I've been listening to my French lesson CD's again now that I have a long car ride into work. It's nice to be working on my French again, even though I don't have anyone to practice with me here in Tennessee. I'm hoping to someday be brave enough to try to read Dumas in French.

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An anniversary

Today is the 18 month anniversary of the day I fell and broke my leg. To celebrate, I did aerobics Tuesday night with the girls, and I've been on my feet most Tuesdays and Thursdays, and it's really humid today, so my ankle is really stiff. But even on stiff days, it's not so bad. And, as all my doctors tell me, all my scars are better than ankle tattoos.

August's Beautiful Picture from Tennessee

Late Nights

I haven't been blogging much lately. I suppose in a lot of ways I've just been too overwhelmed.

My new teaching job is going well. Thursday was the first day of formulas, and I had several positive comments from the students, so that was nice.

I had a paper due yesterday at midnight, and it didn't occur to me until 10:50 PM that they meant midnight Eastern time, so I had about 10 minutes to get logged onto the system and get my paper in. I checked on it today, and it seems to be OK. I hate it when I put things off until the last minute, but my life has just been so crazy this week.

I had a really rough night last night, after I sent my paper in, and I realized today that yesterday was the 5-month anniversary of Daddy's death. I think that I knew it in my heart even though I had lost track of the days with my head. This coming Sunday would have been my parents' 45th wedding anniversary, so I know my mom is not going to have a good weekend, but I don't think there is anything that I could do to help. I'm trying to convince Darin to take the blond girls to their church on Sunday so that I can go to the "organ church" instead. I think Rachel wants to come with me and see the organ. My mom and I went to this church instead of the kids' church on Sunday. I really felt the presence of God there, I really enjoyed the service, and the people in Sunday school were very nice.

Now that things are settling down into a "new normal," I will try to get back on the computer again and blog more.

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Elvis RIP

I can't believe it's been 30 years.

I remember the day Elvis died.

In the summer of 1977, we left South Dakota and moved to Tennessee. On the morning of June 11, I remember watching the morning news as the movers came to load the moving van. James Earl Ray (the man who shot Martin Luther King, Jr.) had just escaped from from Brushy Mountain State Penitentiary in East Tennessee. It didn't bother me so much that a killer was loose. I figured that he was important enough that the police and FBI would catch him again. But the reporter said that he was in the "snake-infested hills of East Tennessee." I remember looking at my dad and saying, "Do we really have to move there?"

My parents had tried to find a house for us, but with no success, so we moved from a three-bedroom single-family house in South Dakota into a two-bedroom apartment on the top of one of those snake-infested hills in East Tennessee. There were six of us in those days: Mom, Dad, me, my two brothers, and our wonderful dog Cuddles. I think the boys shared a bedroom, or maybe my youngest brother slept in Mom and Dad's room. I slept on the couch in the living room.

On the day Elvis died, it seemed like the world was going to end. I don't think I had ever heard such wailing in my life. I knew who Elvis was, and I'd heard his songs, but I had never been to Graceland, or anything like that, and I had no idea that other people were so crazy about him. I'm sure that it wasn't such a big deal back in South Dakota. The mom in the family across the hall from us went to bed for weeks when Elvis died. She was too grief-stricken to do anything. Her husband would come by our apartment and ask my mom questions on how to cook things like hot dogs. He was afraid to ask his wife.

I remember being so stressed about having to go to a new school, and not knowing if I would fit in, and wondering if I was ever going to get enough sleep at night in that apartment.

There are several events I remember in my life. I'm too young to remember when President Kennedy got shot, but I do remember when Nixon resigned. I remember when the Space Shuttle Challenger exploded after take-off and when the Columbia exploded over Texas. I remember when the World Trade Center Towers fell and the sound of the plane hitting the Pentagon that day. And I remember the eerie sound of screaming when Elvis died.

July's Beautiful Picture from Tennessee

Lessons in Calmness from my Sunday school teacher

Some of you may have gotten this email already, or seen it on another blog, but I wanted to share it here, too.

I got this email from my Sunday school teacher:

I am passing this on to you because it definitely works and we could all use a little more calmness in our lives. By following simple advice heard on the Dr. Phil show, you too can find inner peace.

Dr Phil proclaimed, "The way to achieve inner peace is to finish all the things you have started and have never finished." So, I looked around my house to see all the things I started and hadn't finished, and before leaving the house this morning, I finished off a bottle of Merlot, a bottle of Zinfandel, a bottle of Bailey's Irish Cream, a bottle of Kahlua, a package of Oreos, the remainder of my old Prozac prescription, the rest of the cheesecake, some Doritos, and a box of chocolates.

You have no idea how freaking good I feel right now. Please pass this on to those whom you think might be in need of some calmness in their lives.

We have half a bag of Oreos in the house, but no alcohol and no old Prozac prescription. We did have half a can of spray-on whipped cream that we put on our cookies and/or bananas this evening. I don't think we're feeling as good as the person who wrote that original email.

And I think that Dr. Phil is wrong. I'm not stressed about the projects I haven't finished. I just keep plugging away, and I know that I'll get there some day, or not. It's not a big deal. The key to calmness in my life is to keep Darin from starting any new projects, especially home improvement projects like he was doing in Virginia (knocking down walls, etc).

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Visiting Clergy

So I had my very first mammogram this week at the age of 42 and a half. Yes, I know, a bit behind schedule.

My appointment was at the "outpatient diagnostics center" at a local hospital. I had never been a patient at that hospital before, and I knew they would need me to fill out some forms. One form was specifically for the test that day, but the other form was for their records because I was a new patient. The last two questions on the form:

* Would you like visitors? Yes No
* Would you like a visit from a member of the clergy? Yes No

Remember, I'm there for a mammogram. No, I don't really want visitors, and I think that I would especially not like a visit from a member of the clergy. However, I don't want to seem anti-social. I mean, what if, God forbid, I get into a car accident in the future and end up in the hospital?

I left the last two questions blank.

Honor Star, Honor Friend Weekend

Our church has something called Missionettes, where girls complete different studies for badges or charms. It's like a Christian version of Girl Scouts.

Today, my youngest girl was crowned as an Honor Star and my oldest girl was crowned as an Honor Friend. One great thing about being back in Tennessee was that my mom, brother, sister, and niece came to our house to help us celebrate the weekend.

To be an Honor Star, a girl must complete at least 27 badges. (Each badge has four lessons, with a project and a memory verse, and can be completed in about a month.) She must also read the entire New Testament in the three years she's in Stars. She must learn the Statement of Faith, the Lord's Prayer, write an essay on Integrity, and memorize a set of questions and answers about healing, the Holy Spirit, and End-time Events. At the end of the three years, she takes a written test on everything they've learned, including the 27 memory verses. My youngest daughter had the highest score in her group of five Honor Stars.

An Honor Star receives a crown, a sash, and an Honor Star medal during the ceremony. My daughter also received a Bronze Medal because she is an Honor Daisy, Honor Prim, and an Honor Star.

To be an Honor Friend, a girl must complete at least 18 units. (Each unit has six lessons, with a project and memory verse, so they take about six weeks to complete.) She must also read the entire Bible, both Old and New Testament, in the three years she's in the Friends Club. At the end of the three years, she must take a written test on the Statement of Faith and the 18 memory verses. My oldest daughter scored a perfect 100% on her test.

An Honor Friend receives a ring with a butterfly and a purple graduation cord during the ceremony. My daughter also received a Silver Medal because she is an Honor Daisy, Honor Prim, Honor Star, and now an Honor Friend. She was the first Honor Friend they had ever had at that church, and so was also their first Silver Medalist.

I'm so proud of my girls, and they were so happy they could share the weekend with my family.

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Independence Day 2007

The girls wanted to go to downtown Nashville again for Independence Day. Some of the people on the program for the concert were Taylor Swift, who is one of the girls' new favorite singers, and Rodney Adkins, who the girls have liked for a little while now. Rodney Adkins has a song called "If You're Goin' Through Hell", and the kids thought that the words were particularly appropriate to us living in Luxembourg: "If you're goin' through Hell, keep on goin', don't slow down, if you're scared don't show it. You might get out before the devil even knows you're there."

We got there early this year, and some of us went to the Charlie Daniels museum, and some of us went on the free bungy jumping ride.

The show started with the color guard and National Anthem. I still can't sing the "Star-Spangled Banner" without crying. I was crying through the fireworks, too. Even "Stars and Stripes Forever" makes me cry. I'm so happy to be back in the United States of America.



God bless the U.S.A.!

We are back!

We are back from Montreal and my conference. Rachel did a great job of navigating, even when the signs were in French. We also had a wonderful time in the Boston area, going both to Plymouth and to Lexington and Concord.

Rachel's books for high school came yesterday, and she went into town to a movie, so we're going to look through them all today. Yet another thing to get organized.

June's Beautiful Picture from the U.S.A.

At the green in Lexington, MA

Nothing to do but blog, clean, and relax

So, school is over for the 2006-2007 school year. My oldest daughter finished her testing for placement into her high school for next school year. My slides are finished for the June conference, and by the end of the day today, I should have all the arrangements and reservations made for the trip. On Monday, the two older girls go to Youth Camp with the church.

So next week I'll have no pressing deadlines, and a week to hang out with my baby. I'm feeling a bit at a loss. It's been so long since we haven't had school hanging over our heads. I'm trying to decide if we should take on a big project (like sewing a dress) or a slightly smaller project (like working on scrapbooks together). I'm looking forward to some quality time with my youngest daughter, and I don't want us to be stressed out.

Today is my day to clean up the living room, and I have some cleaning to do in the kitchen today, too. But hopefully, I'll have some time to work on my scrapbooks today.

I also had a chance to watch some rented DVDs. We just finished How the West Was Won. I had forgotten how much I love the score to that movie. I remember seeing that movie when I was really little. Even as a little kid, I was impressed by John Wayne fighting the Civil War and the buffalo stampede. The movie reminded me so much of my dad. All through the movie, I kept thinking, "My dad loved this part." Especially during the buffalo stampede. They used real buffalo back then, in 1962. I'm not sure they could do that now and claim that no animals were injured. I'm really glad we rented this movie. It brought back a lot of memories.

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Language Issues in Tennessee

One of the sections of my daughter's recent achievement test was a True/False section on grammar. The instructions said they were going to give her some sentences, and if they were written in "standard English", then she should mark True, and if they weren't in "standard English", then mark False. She looked at me and asked, "Your standard English or Dad's standard English?" I told her to go with Darin's.

At one point during the test she laughed and said, "I think I've heard you say this before, Mom." And then she marked it False.

On a mildly related note, Darin was calling BCBS of Alabama to ask about a claim of mine. It was one of those answering services where you have to talk to the computer. He kept saying "Yes" over and over. The computer just couldn't understand him. After about five times, he said "Ye-es," making it a two-syllable word. That time it understood him. He eventually gave up trying to talk to that computer and kept saying "Customer Service" over and over until he finally got to talk to a real person.

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May's Beautiful Picture from Tennessee

Clue

The two older kids spent the first two weekends in May working on a Clue movie with the junior high youth group. The characters were Mr. Body, Miss Maroon, Mrs. Jade, Mrs. Parrot, Mrs. Black, and Major Mayo, with some additional characters, like two door-to-door salesmen, and a butler. Rachel was Mrs. Parrot, and NB was the head sound technician.

Rachel underwent a transformation those two weeks. She was told to dress in blue for her costume, and so she wore this blouse that her grandmother had given her---bright blue with ruffles and sequins. Rachel thought she would never wear it. She also wore makeup for the first night, borrowed, mostly, from other people. But she liked the way she looked it in, and she asked if we could buy some makeup for her. I told her that since she was almost in high school, I was willing for her to start wearing makeup, but only if she promised to wash her face twice a day like she is supposed to. A few months ago, Rachel started really taking care of her hair, and it looks great. Now she is really taking care of her face, too, and it looks good, and the makeup looks good. She looks like a very different girl than that messy-haired kid that used to live here.

We also needed to do some shopping for white dresses for the Star and Friend ceremony in July. Three years ago, when M was an Honor Star, she wanted to sew her own dress, and she wanted something very simple. This time she wanted fancy, again, another sign she's growing up.

Last night was premier night for the Clue movie. Rachel and NB both had done a great job.

I've always tried to enjoy the kids at the age they are now instead of always looking back or always looking ahead. But with testing for high school, and the changes in the girls, it's hard not to think ahead to them leaving the house and how lonely I'll be. But enough of that for now. I'll think about it tomorrow.

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Next to Last Day

Tomorrow is our last day for school for this school year. I've been grading papers like crazy, working on paperwork for M to start high school in the fall, working for clients, and trying to keep the house clean, too. The weather here has been warm and dry---perfect for me to get caught up on the laundry (since we don't have a dryer). But there is so much other stuff to get caught up on, too.

On Monday, I found a little bit of time for scrapbooking. I cleaned in my room some over the weekend, and unpacked some boxes, and I found a box of pictures I had been looking for. I just knew in my heart that the first picture in the box was a picture of my girls with my dad from December of 2004, and I really wanted to find that box. I did. And Monday I did about four pages in my family scrapbook. I worked really hard in Luxembourg to be only about one year behind in getting my pictures in books and documented. Now I'm two and a half years behind, but I'm not discouraged. I got caught up once, and I can do it again.

One Year Ago Today

A year ago today we closed on our house here in Tennessee. Sometimes when I see how much stuff I still have to unpack, I get discouraged. On the other hand, I'm really thankful that we have all our stuff, and that we have a house and land we love.

April's Beautiful Picture From Tennessee

Daddy's funeral

This is the eulogy I gave tonight at Daddy's funeral:

When I was a child, I thought that everyone had the same kind of childhood that I had, and it wasn't until I was older that I learned to appreciate the uniqueness of my childhood. Let me tell you about my dad.

When I was little, before I could say the word "statistician," Daddy and I would pretend to be statisticians. We’d do little experiments in the kitchen, or we’d do a survey of words in the newspaper, and then we would graph our results. We discussed the properties of bell-shaped curves. We figured out the probability of drawing a pair of matching socks from my well-mixed sock drawer.

When I was in third grade, Mrs. Hoffman was teaching us multiplication tables, and I was bored. When I told Daddy I was bored in math, he said he would teach me a magic trick. He got out his book of logarithm tables (back in the olden days before calculators could do logarithms), and he showed me how to look up numbers in the logarithm table. Then you would take the logarithms and add them, but when you undid the logarithm they would really be multiplied. I tried it over and over for any multiplication problem I could think of, and the next day I told Mrs. Hoffman that my dad had taught me a really cool magic trick with logarithms. She called my dad later and suggested to him that he should stop teaching me at home. He ignored her suggestion.

But math to my dad was more than just the kind of math you might use as a statistician, it was the kind of math you used in sports. I learned how to compute "yards per carry" and "runs batted in." There is never a time in my life when I can remember NOT knowing the rules to football, baseball, and basketball, and I've been a Nebraska football fan my whole life. Some of you might know that my dad knew Richie Ashburn who played major-league baseball in Philadelphia and later worked for them as a broadcaster, but my dad had other connections, too. When we lived in Vermillion, South Dakota, Daddy was friends with the announcer for the town baseball team. Daddy and Don and I went to a lot of baseball games in Vermillion, and sometimes I would get to sit up in the announcer’s booth, and one time I even got to run the scoreboard, to turn on the balls, strikes, and outs. Daddy took us to high school football, basketball, and wrestling, and University of South Dakota football and basketball, too. And when we moved to Tennessee, we started going to Science Hill and ETSU games and track meets.

Time with Daddy was more than just math. Daddy read out loud to us, everything from "The House that Jack Built" and "Oh How Do We Get to the Zoo?" to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and Edgar Rice Burrows. Daddy taught me to sing the tenor part on the hymns with him before I could read well enough to read the words of the hymns. We took family vacations out west to see the Grand Canyon and Yellowstone, and trips in the east to every major Civil War battle site, and as many of the minor ones as Daddy could find.

Daddy loved to look for patterns in every day things, from the number of petals on wildflowers to odometer readings on the car. I remember calling Daddy on his 48th birthday and asking how it feels to be 48. He said it felt a lot like 47. I called him on his 49th birthday, and he was really excited. This wasn't just any birthday. I had just turned 25, and he was 49, and that was 5 squared and 7 squared. And to make it even better, on his mom’s next birthday, she was going to turn 81, so then we'd have 5, 7, and 9 squared. I remember that he said, "We couldn't have done better if we'd planned it." And I remember thinking, but who would have thought to plan this?

No matter what happened in our lives, I always knew, without any doubt, that my dad loved me and my brothers, even when (or maybe especially when) we were being punished. I also knew, without any doubt, that he loved my mom.

It wasn't until I was much older that I realized that not every child has this kind of childhood. Not everyone grows up in such a secure and loving home with such amazing parents. I also discovered that not everyone loved math and statistics like I did.

Now I’m married with three kids of my own, and this has given me a chance to see Daddy’s teaching abilities with the next generation. I remember very clearly overhearing my dad watching a Nebraska football game on TV, and hearing him explain the kind of plays you might want to run on second and 7. I went out to see who he was talking to, and it was my two-month-old daughter. I asked Daddy what he was doing, and he told me that it’s never too early to start training the next generation. And it works. My husband is from Iowa, and much to my husband’s chagrin, all three of my girls route for Nebraska. Daddy loved watching his granddaughters play soccer and going to their piano recitals. And Mom and Dad took us all on a family vacation out to Yellowstone and Custer State Park to see Daddy’s beloved buffaloes in the wild.

Besides being a mother, you might have guessed that I’m a statistician by profession. Every day I use the lessons he taught me. I teach classes on time series, and I explain to people how magical logarithm can be. I teach my girls math and music and history, and we visit as many battlefields from the War Between the States as we can manage. I still sing tenor on the hymns in church. I still have a very well-mixed sock drawer.

I could never live up to everything Daddy did. I mean, we are talking about the man who had to walk through the snow barefoot to school every day, and uphill both ways. OK, so he liked to tell stories, and I was fairly gullible, but I did always work hard at what I set my mind to do. I always wanted to do my very best, not so that my dad would love me, but because I loved him, and I wanted to be just like him.

The most important thing that Daddy taught me was to be passionate about God. Finding patterns in nature wasn't some kind of hobby with Dad, or something to pass the time. It was just one way to marvel at all the amazing gifts that God has given us, to appreciate the world around us, to see God’s handiwork in even the little things. Daddy taught me that there is beauty in everything around us. There is beauty in every situation, even the bad ones, when we can see that God is in control. When something miraculous happens and other people chalk it up to coincidence or chance, as statisticians, we can figure out the probabilities and see very clearly the hand of God. Daddy taught me how to see the Power behind the chance.

The older I get, the more I'm convinced that if someone doesn't love math, it's only because they didn't have a good teacher. So every day, I can thank God that I had the very best math teacher, right from the start.

This was part of the eulogy given by Daddy's boss, Dr. Bagnell, the Dean of the College of Medicine at ETSU:

I want to express my appreciation to you for inviting me to participate in this celebration of Leo’s life . . . truly, a life well and fully lived. I knew Leo best through the medical school and mostly through the work we shared in Academic affairs, but Leo did not compartmentalize his life and one could not be with him without appreciating his broad range of interests and some of the passions in his life: his family, his faith and his church, his music and the Johnson City Civic Chorale, sports and especially Nebraska and the University of Nebraska team, education and particularly the evaluation of educational effectiveness, the American Cancer Society’s Relay for Life, quilting . . . through each of these interests was intertwined his love of order as expressed, for him, through mathematics. As Catherine mentioned, she grew up with a sense of numeric order that applied to all forms of thinking, from football to flowers, and when applied to nature and our universe it simply enhanced her wonder at the role of our Maker. What a beautiful message to convey to your children. It's wonderful to hear her tales of growing up as Leo’s favorite daughter.

Leo loved sports and was an avid fan of Science Hill High Scholl basketball and football, ETSU sports, Johnson City Cardinals baseball team, St. Louis Blues NHL hockey team, and the St. Louis Cardinals baseball team. He attended high school in Tilden Nebraska, which is important in understanding his Nebraska roots and one of his baseball connections. He played baseball in Tilden and developed a long-standing friendship with Tilden’s best-known baseball player, Richie Ashburn, who entered the Baseball Hall of Fame in 1995, thus explaining the pictures and memorabilia related to Richie Ashburn on display today.

While working toward his masters’ degree, Leo taught mathematics and science at Seward Junior High in Seward, Nebraska, and also served as the junior high school athletic coach. Later, the legendary Nebraska football coach, Tom Osborne, who also had a Ph.D. in Educational Psychology, taught Leo statistics at the University of Nebraska. As the family will attest, Leo found the association between statistics and football strategy to be simply, well, logical.

Leo loved to teach and developed a strong bond with many of his students. On receiving his Ph.D. with a major in Educational Psychology and Measurement, and a minor in Mathematics in 1969, Leo accepted a faculty position at the University of South Dakota in their College of Education. There he met Dr. Jack Mobley, the Associate Dean for Clinical Sciences at USD, and worked with him on faculty development and student evaluation in South Dakota’s medical school. When Jack Mobley accepted the position as the second Dean of Medicine at ETSU, Leo received an invitation to interview for the newly created position of the Assistant Dean for Educational Resources.

There are several tales about his interviews for this position, but Leo most remembered an interview with a newly appointed associate dean who made it clear that he saw absolutely no need for the medical school to hire anyone with Leo’s skills---not the last time Leo would hear this. At this time the medical school still had not received approval from the accreditation body, the LCME, to admit the first class of students, and Leo would later remark that "leaving the University of South Dakota was the biggest gamble I ever took in my life, but it didn’t seem like the odds were too bad at the time."

I’m not sure how Joyce reflected on this decision during their first few months. The family arrived in East Tennessee from South Dakota to discover new experiences and a new culture. They reached Johnson City tired and exhausted from long car trip with three young children and a dog on "race weekend," a term that meant nothing to them at the time. Their reservations at the Holiday Inn had been cancelled because of a delay in finishing the races. Their next housing experience was also a cultural awakening. They found temporary housing for the summer in cramped apartment which had one paper-thin wall separating them from a grief-stricken neighbor who wept and wailed for days after Elvis died in mid-August 1977.

Leo separated his physicians into two groups: ETSU graduates and others. He felt a special affinity for our ETSU graduates and would often mention that he had taught such and such a physician. He had a particular affinity for the first class of 24 students that started in the fall of 1978. When the LCME did give approval in June 1977 for the college of medicine to admit a class of 24 students, Leo was appointed acting Assistant Dean for Student Affairs and held the administrative responsibility for working with Dr. Les Bryant, the new Chair of the Department of Surgery and the Chair of the Admissions Committee, in selecting the class of 24 from 219 applicants. The fact that there were 219 applicants was in no small part related to an effort by Leo---as the school received notification to proceed to admit students well after the national admissions system had closed applications, he had to take to the road and visit undergraduate schools throughout the state to encourage applications to this new medical school. Ironically, one of the 24 students in the inaugural class, Dr. Ray Lamb, became his oncologist and good friend over the last years of his life, a relationship Leo valued highly.

Leo clearly felt a bond with his students and it was not surprising that post retirement he elected to work one-on-one with students who might benefit from his skills in helping students improve their success in taking multiple-choice tests. He was really very good at this. His other main post-retirement focus was to help faculty with the flip side of the test-taking coin, that is, the proper construction of multiple choice tests. I remember the day one of our senior faculty presented Leo with copies of tests for his analysis. Leo always started by asking faculty members to bring copies of old tests as the starting point for helping with the development of good skills in writing examination questions. Leo knew nothing of the subject matter this faculty member taught, but ran down through the questions on the first page stating the correct answer, without error. Well, maybe we might have needed someone with Leo’s skills after all!

Leo had many "firsts" and many wonderful stories of his 30 years in the College of Medicine. He taught the first course offered in the graduate program in the college of medicine, a research design/data analysis course for two graduate students. One of these students later became the first student to earn a Ph.D. degree from ETSU.

With his stories, his sense of humor played a key role in what he elected to remember. One of his stories related to his first day at work as the Assistant Dean for Medical Education. He had two staff members, one being a computer systems analyst, but neither the office not the college of medicine had a computer.

Leo’s years of experience and many accomplishments in the college of medicine culminated with his appointment as the Chair of our Medical Student Education committee in the mid-1990s. He was given a clear and strong mandate to work to develop excellence in medical education and our educational success is indebted to him for creating the structure around with we could develop and maintain an effective curriculum. The system and the infrastructure he created played a major role in our success in the accreditation process in 2003, and Leo quite justifiably derived his greatest feelings of accomplishment and satisfaction from his work with this committee.

I valued Leo’s counsel and his loyalty; he contributed so much in so many ways. I also just enjoyed Leo and will miss his warmth and friendship, his sense of humor, his memory of events that only he and I were old enough to remember, and the presence of his beautiful tenor voice while the rest of us sang “Happy Birthday” so terribly at departmental birthday parties. His was a life very well-lived, and he has left his family and the rest of us with so very much to celebrate as we give thanks for his life and the time we had with him.

The service:

Scripture Reading – Psalm 121

Prayer

Congregational Hymn: "For All the Saints"

Congregational Hymn: "Blessed Assurance"

Speaker: Catherine

Congregational Hymn: "I'll Fly Away"

Speaker: Dr. Bagnell

Solo: Helen Rebmann – "His Eye is on the Sparrow"

Speaker: Arthur Joyce

Prayer



Daddy said that he wanted to sing "I'll Fly Away" at his own funeral, but he never got around to recording it. Maybe he wasn't serious. He and I used to tease my mom about the duets we were going to sing at my wedding, which we didn't sing because we were just joking around. My dad had his own obituary already written, so I don't know why he hadn't bothered to record that hymn.

Daddy and anniversaries

Tonight I lost my dad to cancer. Though I feel incredibly cheated to have lost him so soon, I am very thankful to have had such amazing, unconditional love from such an amazing, incredible man. He was my first and greatest math and statistics teacher and has always been my biggest fan and best mentor.

Also, today was the one-year anniversary of us moving back to the States. I'm so glad that we moved back, and I'm so glad that we live so close to my parents' house. There was a time when I doubted that we were really in God's will for our lives, but I see so clearly now His hand in everything that has happened in my life. I'm so thankful that I was close to home this past year.

March's Beautiful Picture from Tennessee

A birthday gift from my mom and dad

Daddy

I took the week off from work this week so that I could help my parents get to Houston for more tests for Daddy. But something happened with Daddy late last week. There was too much calcium in his blood, which does really strange things to your nervous system, as it turns out. So Daddy had to go back to the hospital. When I talked to Mom last Friday morning, she was really exhausted, so I went up there to take the night shifts at the hospital until Daddy was better. Bill came home, too, for spring break, so I came home on Tuesday after a nap. Daddy is feeling better, though I don't know when the Houston trip will be now.

One year ago from right now, Darin and the girls were exploring an ancient monastery on the Mediterranean Coast in Spain. I sat in the car with my broken leg and watched boats come in and out of the harbor and tried not to think about how much I needed a rest room. I'm going to celebrate the day by scrapbooking.

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February's Beautiful Picture from Tennessee

Our first and only real snowfall, and the snow melted before the thrid day. I love Tennessee.

Best Friends

I heard the Michael W. Smith song "Friends" this evening. It's not my favorite song in the world, though it's not bad. I suppose I don't really like it because it always seems to be sung at really emotional times, and I tend to be an emotional girl.

But it got me thinking about my best friend, of course, and I realized that one of the main problems with running my own business in the middle of nowhere is that I don't see enough of my best friend.

Living in Luxembourg was difficult because of the time difference. It gave me a very limited window where I could call my parents or my friends back in the States. One nice thing about being in Tennessee is that I'm only one time zone away from most of my friends.

I've had a really difficult time connecting with people around here. I guess I'm just too different from anyone around here. It's hard to find common ground.

I suppose the moral of the story is that I need to spend some time investing in the friendships I do already have with the people that understand me, especially now that there isn't such a big time difference.

Health Insurance

It's been almost two years now since I left my good government job in DC and my good government health insurance. We had health insurance in Luxembourg, I suppose, but we never understood how to use it if we needed it (like when my middle child was bitten and scratched badly by the neighbor's cat), and we never understood how to get preventative care, like cancer screenings.

So this week, my husband started permanently at the job where he has been a temp through Kelly Services for the past eight months. So this week, for the first time in almost two years, we have health insurance.

I am old enough now that I should have had a mammogram or two by now. I've never had one. It's been over two years since I've had a pap smear. The girls haven't had a check-up in over five years. It's been over three years since any of us have been to a dentist, and the two older girls need orthodontia.

We have been doing fine financially. My husband's job is enough to pay the bills, and now my consulting business is taking off and I'm bringing in some money also. But all it would have taken in these past months is one bad illness or one bad car accident, and we would have been in big trouble financially. And though you try not worry, it's something that comes often to your mind.

I think that one of the factors that triggered my mid-life crisis and made me really want to quit my job at the Census Bureau was the death of my good friend Mary Ellen from ovarian cancer. She was only 42 when she passed away. So I quit my job and move to Europe and then move back to the States, and we're in a situation where we don't have health insurance. And you can't help but think that it doesn't matter how old you are---a health crisis can happen at any age.

My leaving the Census Bureau got us out of the DC area. We're in a house we love on land we love. The girls are adjusting to life here, though they still miss their friends in Virginia (as do I). We really are back on the track to having some stability.

It's easy to second guess the choices we've made. If I'd known we'd be without health insurance for two years, maybe I wouldn't have left my good government job. But maybe that's why God never lets us really see what lies ahead. So is it better not to know so that you take a chance, and then it all works out in the end? Or should I have been more careful, and not decided I and my family should be without health insurance right when I turned 40?

In the end, it doesn't matter. We're happy and healthy, and I'm learning to really appreciate my new life in Tennessee.

But if you're thinking about having a mid-life crisis, it's very important to think about health insurance. Don't count on having a safety net even if you move to a country with socialized medicine.

January's Beautiful Picture from Tennessee

Provenance and effervescent

My brother is two years younger than me and, for as long as I can remember, he's been smarter than me. Which, now, is really cool. But when you're little, it's kind of embarrassing.

Recently my brother used the word "provenance" in reference to my grandfather's organ that he was helping me move into our new house. I have no idea what he's talking about. "Don't you watch the 'Antiques Roadshow'?" he asks. Well, I do sometimes, but I somehow tend to tune out words that I don't know the meaning of. So then my brother decides to help me improve my vocabulary by encouraging me to use the word in conversation to help me remember. Seein's how it sounds so French, and I'm all about learning French, you would think that I could remember this word. But I don't. I have a really hard time remembering the word whenever I find some opportunity to use it in a sentence. And I see the word all the time now, so I don't know how I missed it before. As an example, here is an article on Wikipedia about a really interesting painting by Jan van Eyck, and the article has a section on Provenance.

And for our other French word of the day, we're going to learn the word effervescent.

When I was in the hospital, and sick from the pain medication, I asked them to take me off the IV and bring me pills for pain instead. This, of course, was not an easy conversation for me to have in French. But that night, the nurse brings me a pill in a foil wrapper, and when I open it, the thing is the size of a 2 euro coin, which makes it bigger than a quarter and smaller than those old 50 cent pieces that I used to see sometimes with Eisenhower on them. I can hardly swallow a regular-sized aspirin, so how am I going to swallow this? I can the nurse back and ask her if I can bite the pill, and I make biting motions with my mouth. "No, no, no -- effervescent."

I look on the package that was there in my lap, and sure enough, written plain as day, is the word effervescent. I should have tried to read the instructions. I shouldn't have assumed that I wouldn't understand the French written there. The nurse asks if I understand effervescent. I tell her that I understand, and I put the pill in my cup of water to prove it to her. She asks me what the word is in English, and I tell her a bold-face lie, "Je ne sais pas" --- I don't know.

Sometimes I have serious doubts about my ability to learn French when I have so much trouble with the English.

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No Handies in America

My brother and sister bought me an MP3 player for Christmas, and I'm working on downloading my 100 free songs that came with it. I think I'm going to try to find some of the songs that I would hear on the bus in Luxembourg. I would never buy the CD for some of these people. But I'm thinking that I would like to have a copy of my theme song from Luxembourg --- "So You Had a Bad Day" by Daniel Powter.

I always assumed that I could be the last person in America to own an MP3 player or a cell phone. (And no, dearest brother and sister, this isn't a plea for you to buy me a cell phone.) It's amazing to me how many web sites and businesses and friends want my cell phone number. They look at you like you've just spit on them when you say you don't have a cell phone.

In Luxembourg, no one understands the phrase "cell phone." To most of the people in Luxembourg, they are "mobiles" or "mobile phones." Except the British. They will understand when you say "mobile," but the term they prefer is "handie." It took me a while to catch onto this phrase. I wasn't sure how to respond the first time I heard, "Well don't you have your handie on you?" I gradually got used to this term, and when we got back to the States, I had to be careful to not to say something like, "Did you remember to turn off the handie?"

I overheard some of the British ladies talking about my lack of a handie after church one day when we were still in Luxembourg. The one lady was feeling very sorry for me that I didn't have one. Her companion said, "Apparently, they don't really believe in handies in America." So somewhere in Luxembourg there is a group of British ladies who think that the only Americans who use mobile phones are in the movies --- that "real" Americans don't have mobile phones.

It's always amazing to me what a little bit of cultural exchange can do to clear up misconceptions of foreign cultures. :-)

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Nationality in The English Patient

The English Patient by Michael Ondaatje is set at the end of World War II in an Italian villa that temporarily houses four very different people: the mysterious English patient of the title, burned beyond recognition; Hana, an exhausted army nurse from Canada; David Caravaggio, an Italian friend of Hana's father; and Kip, an Indian sapper with the British military sent to the area to clear the mines and unexploded bombs left behind by the Germans.

It's a story about books and literature and how they affect out lives. As much as I've been reading since I've been home full-time, I really appreciate that idea.

It's also a story about nationality. The title character in the book wants to create an identity that is completely separate from nationality. He works in the desert with a team of people from different countries, and nationality doesn't get in the way of friendship for these men. To him, his family and his nationality become completely irrelevant. In the desert, and again at the Italian villa, he finds an oasis where he can connect to others without his family's identity and his nationality getting in the way. This is also true for Kip who has found it possible to get along in English society when he finds the right people, people who judge him for want he can do instead of the color of his skin. However, the war shatters the ideas that you can be separate from your nationality. As much as everyone is trying to get away from who they really are, they realize that they can't do that forever.

It's also a story about nationality, and trying to escape from bad circumstances (essentially, in this case, what happened in the war). As someone who moved overseas and understands bad circumstances (though not as bad as their circumstances during the war), I understand the power of nationality in a foreign country. You really **can't** get away from who you are and how you were raised, and it becomes very clear when you are living in a foreign country.

I won't recommend this book to the kids until they are older. I don't think my kids have read enough literature yet to understand everything. Ondaatje draws from several works of literature such as Anna Karenina and Kim, and knowing the plots of these other books really helps to understand what is happening in The English Patient. It's also good to read The Histories by Herodotus first, and two of my kids have read him already. But when the kids are older, I think that they'll understand this book and what it says about nationality.

I do recommend this book, especially for people who love literature. And I especially recommend it if you've seen the movie. Call me a nerd, but the book is much better than the movie.

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