2021 Is a Star in the Sky

A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices

For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn' 

 "O Holy Night"

I hope you saw the Christmas Star last week.  How our dark world needed the light of that Star of Wonder. Let me be about the 200 millionth person to say good riddance to 2020 and all the woe it bestowed upon the universe.

I could see The Star right from my back patio.  Mom and I wrapped up in blankets as we gazed in wonder at the brightness of Jupiter and Saturn aligned so closely they appeared as one.  I sat in absolute awe, thinking that this very celestial alignment might have been followed by the Wise Men all the way to Bethlehem to witness a miracle. That thought filled me with so much hope, and I vowed right then and there to leave all the darkness behind as the year nears its end.  I'm taking nothing but light into 2021, leaving all negativity behind, looking for love and miracles to abound.

Not that 2020 didn't have any of that.  It did.  For one thing, when I realized the pandemic was going to last longer than any of us wanted, I kicked it in gear.  I found new avenues to explore to take my mind off missing my brunches and happy hours and trips and family and friends. I got busy.

I taught myself how to knit! Something possessed me to order a knitting kit--a simple cup cozy. The only thing, though, is it came with just the yarn, needles, and pattern but no instructions on how to actually knit.  Cast on? Knit? Bind off? i was clueless.  I turned to YouTube for help, and sure enough, there are thousands of videos about knitting.  I learned how to cast on (easy!) and the basic knit stitch (easy!) and the bind off (not that easy). I completed the cup cozy, and in the process, I found other beginner projects to try.

Like these HEART FACE SCRUBBIES 💖. I already learned how to cast on and knit (sort of) and I just needed to learn how to purl.  YouTube didn't let me down. These heart face scrubbies were easy, quick, and fun to make.

I kept seeing patterns for DISHRAGS, so I gave them a try. I could cast on and knit, but I had to consult YouTube again to learn how to yarn over (easy) and knit 2 together (not easy). And voila, I made a dishrag! I made a lot of dishrags--ask my family--they got them for Christmas😀

I got kind of addicted to knitting and kept looking for easy patterns. I came across these LEG WARMERS!!  They were so adorable, but was I ready for them? I gave them a try--I cast on, knit and purled. YouTube rescued me again when I needed to make one right, make one left, and bind off in pattern. These leg warmers were more challenging than face scrubbies and dishrags, but after starting over many times and conquering that flower, I did it. And it was fun! 

The Royal Nieces wear their leg warmers well💖

I'm looking for my next knitting project.  If you have any ideas, send them my way.

Oh, and I got a job! I didn't intend to--it just sort of fell into my lap.  My best friend actually dropped it in my lap and suggested, several times, I should look into it.  On the last day, I completed the online application and put together a resume.  The job was for an online teaching position with the Archdiocese of Denver.  In order to meet the needs of those students who couldn't attend in-person Catholic schools, they created St. Isidore Online School. It's a wonderful opportunity for families, and I'm thrilled to be a part of it.  I work with twenty 8th graders in the humanities area--language arts, history, and theology.  I see them (on Zoom) three days a week for two hours.  I absolutely love these kids.  I didn't realize how much I missed teaching.  Being called Miss Thompson again makes me smile even now as I think of it! 

I also took a graduate class from the University of Denver. They offer graduate creative nonfiction writing classes, and the timing couldn't have been better to try one. I had to learn how to be a student in the online world. I struggled navigating Campus, DU's online platform. I almost dropped the class--I had no idea how to post discussions or submit assignments. I didn't, though, and figured things out. The class was challenging and the teacher was not always helpful. I found myself wondering why I put myself through the stress, but I finished. And in the end, I learned so much. And, I'm taking another class this semester! 

After three years living in a do-as-I-please-retired-English-teacher world, it feels good to be busy. And if it took a pandemic to get there, then there is good to be found in that. I'll take that with me into 2021.

I'll also take all the light and energy of that Christmas Star, following it as the clock nears midnight (New York time), believing that it leads to a new, miraculous year.

my humble iPhone photo that stops me in my tracks each time I look at it


Happy New Year, my friends.
Cheers to a brighter 2021.

Champagne and new books--first miracles of the year

Pandemics and Sunflower Fields

There's nothing I love more than FaceTiming with our Royal Babies.  Seeing their innocent faces and bright smiles is all I need to lift my spirits sky high.  I never know where the conversation will go; the spontaneity of a child is inimitable.  Lately, though, I've noticed a common fork our conversations seem to take.  After catching up with school and being silly, we talk about how much we miss seeing each other.  They say they wish they could come to Denver. And they all say they wish this virus would just go away.  I say meeee toooo.

Because this virus.  It just won't stop.  And it's exhausting trying to stay ahead of it.  I'm doing my part; I'm following our state's guidelines and policies--wearing masks and socially distancing and washing my hands and staying put when possible.  I'm trying not to whine, not to deny, not to blame.  And, I'm just trying to stay sane.

One of my favorite sanity-saving things to do is just go for a simple drive. And so I planned a little half-day outing to my favorite sunflower field.  I set off with my Sonic Coke for refreshment, my phone for my camera, my mom and Sunshine for company, and a summer playlist for background music.  

As we approached the turnoff, I felt an almost-forgotten lightness.  I couldn't wait to see those happy, bright-yellow, flower faces.  Except, when we arrived, I wasn't seeing any yellow.  Anywhere.  Instead, I saw this

My heart sank. I was smack in the middle of Eliot's Waste Land, staring at "fear in a handful of dust." I was driving though Fitzgerald's Valley of Ashes, "where ashes grow like wheat." Nothing occupied this space but brown and gray, dirt and dust, shock and disappointment.

Last year, this field took my breath away:

I had a "that does it" moment right then and there.  I burst into tears. I whined. I blamed. I denied.  I hate this damn virus. How can we be in this situation? Why can't people just stay home or wear masks? We need leaders. I want to go shopping and travel to a beach and happy hour with friends. I MISS MY FAMILY!

Then I took a deep breath, dried my eyes, blew my nose, and turned my car around. I heard my little friend Chloe's voice on that drive home. Look for the good.  Look for the good. And there it was--goodness everywhere.  A sky so blue the ocean must surely be around the corner.  A sun so bright no shadows dared to loom anywhere. My mom so full of concern and love nothing else mattered.

Since that drive, I learned that sunflower fields need to rest every several years, giving them a chance to rejuvenate, replenish their oxygen and nitrogen supplies, hydrate, and rid themselves of pests.

I couldn't see the miracle hiding in that dusty sunflower field. I didn't hear its whispers.   My heart wasn't there.  But I hear it now, letting me in on its secret:

Our world is a tired sunflower field.

A pest has taken over its beauty.

It needs to rejuvenate, rehydrate, replenish

with oxygen and nitrogen

so it can breathe.

It needs to rest,

for a year, for two years.

And then,

refreshed,

it will bloom again.

Can't wait to see these four sisters next year.

Leon Russell in His Own Words: A Book Review

I got this book for my birthday in early November.  I finished it today, almost three months later.  Although I wanted to immediately read it, I found myself putting it off until things slowed down, and I had some uninterrupted time.  The holidays came and went, and still I couldn’t pick it up--not because I had other books I wanted to read or because I had a halfhearted interest in it.  No, I just didn’t want to reach the end.  Did I mention Leon Russell in His Own Words is a mere 119 pages long?  An average reader could easily read it in an hour or so. It took me three weeks once I began.  Because I didn’t want to reach the end, I read a chapter at a time. I then sat back and savored every single word, wanting to read more but still dreading that last page. Those words I lingered over are Leon’s own words, personally typed in a Word document and shared with one of the editors, Steve Todoroff.   

What I love most about this book is that I can hear Leon’s voice as I read. I got to see Leon in concert many times. He always mesmerized us with his music, but in addition, he entertained us with stories, about his music, about his history, about his life.  I looked forward to those stories as much as the music. That voice.  I heard it as I read his words in this book.  He had a somewhat dry sense of humor, and that comes through loud and clear in these pages.  In the chapter “On the Road to Xanadu” he describes the beginning of his foray into drugs (happily, Leon quit drugs and alcohol later in life!) When I read “Somewhere in the darkness of my past and quite contrary to the wishes of Nancy Reagan (who created the ‘Just Say No’ tagline . . .)  I would ‘Just Say Yes.’  In fact, I practically never said no.” I heard Leon’s voice as if he were sitting in the room with me, that deadpan, serious voice making me smile even now. 

More stories like these fill up the pages along with added explanatory notes where needed by the editors.  They’re filled with Leon’s relationships with other musicians.  From Jerry Lee Lewis to Ricky Nelson to Elvis and Sonny and Cher, all the way to The Beatles and Waylon and Willie and Elton John, Leon’s influence reaches far and wide. So much history unfolds in these 119 pages. The last chapter, “Willie and Me,” ends abruptly with Leon’s distaste for California and his decision to move to Nashville in the 80s.   

The only stories we have after that Willie chapter are those he shared verbally with family and friends or with us lucky enough to hear Leon’s voice at one of his shows. His sudden death in 2016 quashed the hope that we would hear more from him. Todoroff and Wooley dedicate Leon Russell in His Own Words to “the LeonLifers.”  I can now say that I have a book dedicated to me. 

p.s. Todoroff and Wooley also include, in the final pages, a list the names of those who donated to the Leon Russell Monument Fund.  I sobbed when I saw my name on page 118.  What a gift. I am forever grateful. 

Why I Write

I had a wonderful English teacher my sophomore year of high school.  Although we didn’t always appreciate it, her expectations for us as writers were sky high—organization, clarity, voice, grammar and syntax needed to be near perfect.  Comma splices, dangling modifiers, and subjects that didn’t agree with their verbs did not amuse Mrs. Petersen.  Her red pen could scare the writing out of many students, but that wasn’t the case with me.  I learned so much from her and fell in love with writing because of the grammar, the usage, the mechanics, and the language.  I aimed for that perfect essay, returned to me with no red whatsoever splashed on the pages. I coveted earning an A from Mrs. Petersen.  When she called me in for a conference at the end of that year to tell me I was a good writer, I almost cried.  I carried those words of encouragement throughout college and my career as an English teacher.  Then and now, I write because of Mrs. Petersen.   

I’ve never forgotten how intimidating writing assignments can be.  The purpose for writing might seem unclear; the directions might lack specificity; the genre might be unfamiliar.  All these uncertainties can discourage students from picking up that pen or opening that laptop.  As a teacher, I recognized the many obstacles facing students when given a new writing assignment.  In order to alleviate anxiety and encourage writing, I wrote along with my students.  Whether doing a writing demo on a smart board or facilitating a small group at a conference table, I let my struggles and triumphs show as I worked through my process.  Most of my students appreciated this approach and to this day send me updates from colleges and careers celebrating how they use writing in their lives.  Nothing makes me happier than knowing they have carried their learning into their adult lives. Then and now, I write because of my students. 

I’ve heard all the excuses in the world to avoid writing—from students and from me as well.  I don’t have time.  I don’t know what to write about.  I’m not good at writing.  Now that I’m retired, most of those excuses are just silly.  I do have a blog, but it’s quite undeveloped.  I post a few articles from time to time, but I’m seldom thrilled with the final product.  Until my retirement, I relied on the old excuses and just let the blog amble along.  Not anymore.  I have time.  I have tons to write about. I can write.  Developing my blog is now my number one goal for this new year, this new decade.  I enjoy writing, and I’m so grateful to finally have time to focus on topics of my choice.   

I still hear Mrs. Petersen’s encouraging words, and so I write for her even now.  I hold tight in my heart those students and as they find their way in their new lives, and I write for them.  And now, finally, I can say I write because of me.