Find A Good Book

My children went to Detroit Public Schools. There are not many good teachers there.

I realized one day that one of my sons could not read. 

Of course I went to visit his teacher the next day. My son was 7 years old. And he could not read. 

I talked to the teacher for quite a while. She told me that she was afraid of my son. If she would announce that it was time for the class to get out their workbooks he would just cross his arms and stare at her. 

I said, " He is 7 years old. Tell him to take out his workbook!"

My children were taught to mind adults. However like all children if they see a weakness they will exploit it.

At the end of our meeting I asked if there was an extra reading book that I could take home. I would work with him at home. She was happy to give me one.

Now I love to learn. It comes easily to me. But I am not meant to be a teacher. The patience needed is not in me. But I wanted my children to be educated so we went to work.

Then the following week my son came home with an armload of books. I was expected to teach every subject his grade was learning. Back to the school I went.

This time I spoke to the principal. I explained that I wanted to help with his reading but his teacher was being paid to teach. I could not be responsible for the rest. 

He explained that the teacher was going through a nasty divorce. So she takes it to work and does not have to do a good job because she cannot control her feelings?

I was talking to my neighbor later and venting my frustration. She informed me that her daughter had the same teacher a few years earlier. Her divorce had been final at least 10 years ago. 

So I taught my son to read. As a matter of fact I had to teach all of my children to read. They are all very intelligent so it was not difficult.

I am happy to say that they are voracious readers today. No thanks to that 2nd grade teacher and all the others.

Why A Vacation

 I am back from vacation. 

I did not go to some exotic resort or any place fun.

Within less than a week I lost 3 family members who were dear to me.

My husband's younger brother died. He had been ill for a long time. He was the last of the siblings in the family.

He was as much a brother to me as my brothers with whom I shared parents. He left his wife, seven children, and a number of grandchildren.

Then a niece's husband suffered a massive brain hemorrhage. He was a registered nurse and highly admired by many people.

The doctors told my niece immediately that they did not expect him to live.  Modern medicine helped him live in a coma for a short time. My niece, her children, and grandchildren are devastated.

The only cousin I had who was my age died. She had a few medical problems as we do as we age. Left behind is her husband who is not well and a house full of children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren.

I needed that time to deal with the knowledge they are gone. I am not looking for sympathy here. Our lives move on. I just wanted to let you know why I was gone. I am back now.

Vacation

 I need a vacation I will be gone for a couple of weeks or so. Talk to you when I am back.

Moms Know

My little boy was sick. As his mother I knew it.

He was listless. His eyes did not sparkle. He had no fever or any of the other obvious signs of illness. I am his mother and I knew something was wrong.

I took him to the doctor several times. Each time I was made to feel like I was imagining illness.

Finally I took him to another doctor. He did a few tests. Then he took an x-ray.

My little boy had pneumonia.

He had it the whole time. Medicine was prescribed. In only a few days he was running and playing with his brothers and neighborhood children. His eyes came alive.

Once the pneumonia was cleared he became completely healthy again. Today he is 6'3" tall. 

I am angry with myself because I knew he was sick. I took too long to have another doctor take a look. Moms should listen to themselves and then make others pay attention.

Bedtime

My brother went to sleep every night at 8 o'clock.

No matter where we were or what was happening he went to sleep at 8. We often found him curled up under a table.

When he was little one of my parents would scoop hum up and put him to bed. As he got older another problem developed.

He was too big to carry to bed. But if someone shook him to get him to go to bed he did not completely wake up.

In his sleep he would just mindlessly walk. We had to stop him from walking toward stairs or the picture window. 

We learned to let him get to his feet. Then we would gently hold his shoulders and guide him to bed. All would be fine.

I was talking to him on the phone not long ago. I was laughing with him about going to sleep at 8 every night. His wife laughed and said that he still does.

It is good to know that some things never change.

What Did It Look Like?

My mother was so talented. And she loved to write.

Mom mostly wrote short stories. I was quite young when she had a couple of her stories published in women's magazines.

Once she was very late coming home from a meeting with a publisher. I was about 6 years old and it was the very first time I made supper for the rest of my family.

I made a gourmet meal of scrambled eggs and toast. I am still proud of myself.

Back to Mom's stories. I have never seen anything she had published. I am guessing it may have been a little too racy for little eyes.

I have read other things Mom wrote. She has great stories. I am in awe of her brain.

However... my mother never met an adjective she did not like. She can use 30 different words to describe a pencil. It drives me insane.

It makes me think of the Elizabethan writing style. I felt that was too descriptive too.

It just goes to show that although I am like my mother in many ways description is not one of them.

Here We Go Round The Mulberry Bush

Here we go 'round the mulberry bush,
The mulberry bush, the mulberry bush.
Here we go 'round the mulberry bush,
So early in the morning.

source: https://www.lyricsondemand.com/miscellaneouslyrics/childrenslyrics/herewegoroundthemulberrybushlyrics.html

Most of us have heard that song. Many of us sang it to our babies.

My grandparents as you know had a farm. On the farm were a lot of mulberry trees. The trees gave us red, black, and white mulberries.

White mulberries are larger but not as sweet and juicy. The black ones taste the best to me.

Grandpa hated the mulberry trees. Birds like the berries. Unfortunately their droppings stained whatever they landed on. It seemed like there were droppings on everything... laundry on the line to dry, the picnic table in the back yard, and machinery. He did not like cleaning the tractor seats every morning.

There was a big mulberry tree in the front yard. Grandpa decided it had to go. He cut it down.

To make sure it would not grow back he then chopped the stump into pieces. For good measure he poured lime on it to completely kill it. It was gone.

After a few years sprouts began to grow. It was not long before the sprouts were about seven feet high. Mulberries that grew on it were sweet and juicy. Best of all they were easy to reach.

Grandpa was not happy but he gave up. He had created a mulberry bush.