9/11 -- a day late

I remember 9/11/2001 clearly.

I was brushing my teeth in the bathroom when I heard that a plane had struck one of the twin towers. I think I first heard it on NPR so I turned on the TV. As I stood there watching and brushing, the second plane hit the towers. I couldn't fathom it was a terrorist attack. I also couldn't believe that a pilot couldn't see the Tower and had struck by error. The whole thing was just . . .unbelievable. It still is.

Going into the #3 Telephone company where I was happily employed as a contractor, most of us just stood around in the aisles outside our cubicles, asking each other what we knew, what we had heard, what we supposed might have actually happened.

The Sunday following 9/11, standing in the choir loft, and wondering what we could possibly sing that was inspirational, we debated how to carry on with regular worship. We had an interim pastor at the time, a wonderful, decent, soul-searching man and we loved him. He met with us and spoke with Hubby, who was the choir director. He thought my suggestion that Hubby open the service singing "You'll Never Walk Alone" was a good one. So we all sat down, the pastor sat in the front pew, and the congregation was silent. Hubby stood and sang. His voice was magic, it soothed us, it spoke of the pain we felt and how we wanted to reach out to all the dead and wounded and lost in New York, Washington, D.C., and Pennsylvania. At the end of the song, when Hubby had wrenched our hearts with "When you walk through a storm . . . " and then soothed our pain with the final words "Walk on through the wind, walk on through the rain, but you'll never walk alone" the Pastor came forward, knelt at the prayer rail and prayed, silently. He stayed, kneeling for maybe 10 minutes in silence. When he turned, he said to the congregation, "No message can be more profound than the one we just heard. No other words could bring about more healing. Come and pray as you feel the urge, then leave us in contemplation and peace." And the service was over.

Hubby's voice, raised in one of the most beautiful and prayerful of songs, is my strongest memory of that terrible tragic time ten years ago.

Hugs and a Cheesecake

Yesterday I told my students about my mom dying. I also warned them I would be gone from school next week.

My first block students were horrified that 1) I'd be gone ALL next week ("Who will help us?") and 2) that my mother had died.

Andrea looked at me with real concern. "I'm so sorry," she whispered.

"Thank you," I replied.

"My mom died, too," she added and her eyes pooled with tears.

At that, so did mine. "I'm so sorry," I repeated to her. And we held hands for just a second.

Johnisha asked what she could bring me. I told her that her good wishes were enough.

"No. I will bring you something."

Today she showed up first block with a huge strawberry cheesecake. And a letter. It was the letter that was priceless. She had written it in pencil on thin lined paper and she had filled the page with deeply heart-felt sentiment. She quoted the Bible, she quoted her mother, and she told me she loved me. It was the sweetest letter I've ever gotten from a student. I may frame it. I will certainly treasure it always.

We will eat the cheesecake 4th block with her fellow students. That will undoubtedly be the best cheesecake in the world.

In first block, World History, as I was preparing my kids to be ready for a quiz on Monday (because I would not be there), the kids were glum. Then the teacher told the kids that their homework assignment was to tell their parents that they loved them. My crew, all ten girls, looked straight at me.

Megan said it first. "I love you, Mrs. Wiggins."

"Why, sweetie, I love you, too."

The bell rang and as each girl filed out, they leaned over and hugged me and whispered in my ear, "I love you Mrs. Wiggins." One from Iraq, two from Nepal, one from someplace Asia, and the rest SPED.

I could barely get out of the room without breaking down.

So much love from kids who live a harder life in one day than I've ever really had to face. That much affection, offered so freely and without any encouragement, simply must make one feel -- I'm not sure what to say. Feel overwhelmed? Yes. Special? Certainly. Lucky? Beyond a doubt.

The gift of love is the most precious one you can receive. Today I was loved beyond measure.

Thank you world for this opportunity. The work may be hard -- but the rewards are beyond compare.

Happy Birthday -- and Goodbye

I had actually planned that today I would show a picture of my mom -- and wish her a Happy Birthday. She turned 86 today. In the middle of August I sent her a velour robe from the Vermont Country Store -- in red, her favorite color. I think she liked getting presents from me, even though she didn't send any in return. In early August Hubby had chatted with her briefly on the phone. She mentioned that I sent her gifts four times a year.

We had our difficulties. Mother never approved of Hubby. I didn't like her drinking. Neither one of us could give on the big issues in our lives -- so we ended up going our separate ways.

She was an only child. All her relatives are now dead, save me. I am an only child.

Happy Birthday, Mother.


Today the phone call came. She died during the night -- of her 86th birthday. Now only I am left of generations of Hills and Griffiths. Everyone is gone.

We may not have been close during the last 38 years -- but the memories that I carry from our early years can be sweet and I'll try and put the ugliness behind me forever.

When I heard from her lawyer I felt an emptiness I had not expected. The call, though attempting to be gentle, was cold and clinical. She was gone and my last family ties were cut forever. Goodbye, Charlotte Hill Griffith. I wish it could have all been better for us . . .

Happy Labor Day

We're having a quiet celebration here in the heartland. On Saturday we did the shopping -- a Walmart run for extra undies for Hubby to tide him over until I feel like washing, two new big waste baskets for the kitchen and the bedroom -- and lots of sundries for the bathroom. Then after a quick $100 visit to Sam's, we loaded up on barbeque from the local Jack Stack's, and headed home for unloading and then a long nap. Sunday we watched a lot of TV and had a fine dinner at Olive Garden, nice, tasty Italian can be a very welcome meal. I spent the afternoon making sure the kitchen was, if not spotless, at least a whole lot cleaned up from the last two weeks of Hubby's cooking.

This morning Hubby got served breakfast in bed -- sausage, ciabatta bread, scrambled eggs, banana and melon compote, and orange breakfast tea. He's got leftover meatloaf in the fridge for snacking. There's a small watermelon waiting to be sliced. The diet cherry Pepsi is cold. Finally there's an iced pumpkin spice loaf cake or a box of mint ice cream sandwiches for the sweet tooth (Hubby gets the ice cream, I'm the cake). I think another nap may be called for and a long read with the Kimble. Doggies are happy with the quietness and the naps while cuddled next to us on the bed. The weather is perfect and football games will be telecast. All in all, a lovely day.

September -- Goodbyes and Hellos

Goodbye to:

When one starts school at the beginning of August, it feels that summer has been truncated into only a two month span. It also seems like I've been in fall for the past month, even with 100+ temperatures nearly every week. But with the start of September, I'm willing to celebrate fall -- even if the crisp weather is still at least 30 days away and leaves won't start changing colors for another six weeks. So . . .

Hello to:

Double Bounty

I have two angels who supply my urban core classroom with supplies. At the start of the year they made sure every one of my students had notebooks, paper, dividers, white-out, pens, pencils, erasers, high-lighters, and index tabs. Every single kid on my caseload started out school with every supply needed for every class. What a difference this has had in the progress we are seeing in the classroom!

Today a Lincoln town car trunk load of groceries was delivered. We got fruit, pudding, crackers, cookies, Chef Boyardee bowls of pasta. It took two flat bed trucks to unload all the food and cart it to my classroom.

I had the kids in my Work Studies program make the food haul on the flatbeds. You should have seen their eyes when Hubby raised the lid on the trunk and laid out was ALL that wonderful food.

After unloading and rolling the flatbeds into the elevator to haul it all to the third floor, the kids were silent as they surveyed the bounty. Finally, my freshman spoke up.

This guy is from the behavioral disordered school that was closed for budgetary reasons this year. He's not been in a regular school for the last three years because he's violent, threatening, and disruptive. He is standing in his sagging pants and baseball cap next to the back flatbed, looking over the boxes and boxes of granola bars.

"Miss. Where did all this food come from?"

My senior, who knows everything and loves to share it, spoke up immediately. "Mrs. B and her husband provide us with the food. They buy it at Sam's. Hubby (which is how my kids know Hubby) went along with them this trip and then brought it to us."

The freshman boy stared at the other cart, loaded to the top with food.

"Miss. I didn't know that you knew people who hijacked Sam's trucks."

I guess that says it all, Mrs. B and Mr. C. It was inconceivable to my kids that someone could actually purchase this much food at one time.

The "thank you's" were in their eyes and their response to knowing that for the next several months, when they were hungry (and they are almost always hungry), they would be getting some decent food to eat. Not chips, not sweets. But fruit cups and fruit roll ups and healthy granola bars.

The food is safely put away now, stored in our closets and our storage bins. I won't have to share my sandwich on Tuesday with the cheerleader who has practice until 5 p.m. but lives on her own and hadn't had more than hot chips to eat for the past week. The boys who are starved by 11:30 will have granola bars to tide them over until third lunch at 12:20. The kid who needs meds in the morning won't be throwing them up because they were taken on an empty stomach.

This support provided by "anonymous" angels who really only get to meet the kids at the Christmas celebration will help us, not just survive, but thrive, during the school year.

Once again, Debby and Lou -- WE LOVE YOU!

Schnauzers -- In My Opinion

I've been asked a couple of times about owning Schnauzers.

Here's the scoop:

• They are sturdy which is why Hubby really likes them - but they are also fairly small. The normal miniature Schnauzer weighs in at about 22 pounds. But like terriers they are solid and strongly built. Of course the new trend is to breed smaller and smaller -- so now you can find some that weigh in at 10 to 12 pounds -- but normal size is around 22 - 24 pounds
• They do not shed -- BUT and this is a big B U T -- they do require grooming. So if you don't want to mess with a poodle because of the poodle cut, you probably don't want a Schnauzer either. I pay $40 a piece ($80 a month) to groom my Schnauzers with a true Schnauzer cut. Now you can shave them down -- but if you do that, please, please do not cut off their lovely little beards. A bald Schnauzer is a terrible sight to behold, in my opinion.
• They are not the most friendly of dogs. They bond closely with their family and then try like to shut others out. If you have a kid (or kids), they will like your child. They may not like other children. They are also pretty territorial -- so they make good watch dogs. We always figure no one is breaking into the car when the two Schnauzers are guarding it. Fritzy was a snippy Schnauzer -- he would bite if you made him angry. Milly, our first Schnauzer, also could display a temper. Wolfie, on the other paw, loved everybody. Gus and Luie are pretty friendly, too. Luie makes noise because he wants to first find out where you are standing and second see if he can tell if he knows you.
  
• Schnauzers yip. A lot. They just make noise. They talk to their owners. They yap at other dogs. They greet the mail people. They kick up a storm when the pizza guy comes. You have to like noise to own a Schnauzer.
• They love. Not like a lab or a setter. But you will find none more loyal to his family than a Schnauzer.
• They rule. They dominate their owners, other dogs, and the entire household. However, they are also smart enough to know exactly who is alpha in a household. So, in our house, everyone knows that Hubby is the dominate figure. Fritzy used to try to usurp me and periodically I'd have to remind him that I was second in command. Gus and Luie are more laid back -- or smarter -- and though Luie would love to come third in the house rankings, he understands that neither Hubby or I will allow Gus to lose his standing now that Fritzy is gone. You can watch a Schnauzer to see how he sees himself in the household -- they will align with the alpha person. So Milly and Fritzy were Hubby's dogs. Wolfie adored me. Gus honestly doesn't care - he's a slut for love, whoever will give it. And Luie -- well, Luie is a dog unto himself. He loves. He plays. And he has a sense of humor. So Luie is in it for the laughs. Luie is a bit zealous in trying to be friendly - but being blind he's actually just trying to figure out if he should know you and where you've been.
  

Now if any of that seems to fit the dog you are think you could love -- find yourself a pound Schnauzer. Lots of rescue organizations are out there for them -- Luie came from a rescue in Oklahoma. However, Milly came from Wayside Waifs. Fritzy and Gus come from the pound in Ottawa, Kansas. Wolf was found half dead by a couple in Kearney, MO. All of them our guys have been rescues. And honestly, I think that makes for an even-tempered, loving, trainable best friend (or son or daughter, in our case).