Funeral services for Mana John were held, 1984, in a Checotah, Oklahoma cemetery. It was a hard scrabble place. No trees. Just tombstones planted to hold down the dirt. Rather like the people who lived in this small town. No frills. Those Checotahtans knew their jobs and they did them. Hard working folks. Expecting nothing from the government.
The day was cloudless, unusually hot for a February, the air still. A tent was set up to shield the small number of family members from the sun. Everyone was seated in a folding chair when The Reverend Charles McCarty began the service. He talked along, saying the usual niceties. Not too short, not too long, the number of words were sounding just right. The Reverend moved into the closing of Mama John's service by reading a poem by Henry Van Dyke, an American preacher, poet, and philosopher.
"I am standing upon the seashore, A ship at my side spreads her white sails to the morning breeze and starts for the blue ocean. She is an object of beauty and strength and I stand and watch until at last she hangs like a speck of white cloud just where the sea and sky come down to mingle with each other. Then someone at my side says, 'There she goes!'"
Just as The Reverend McCarty said, 'There she goes,' I was startled by the feel of a light breeze brush across the skin of my arms, followed by a slight puff of wind, every so slightly, lifting the tent top. Time stopped. I looked up. The tent settled. Everyone else stared straight ahead. The preacher never paused and continued reading.
"Gone where? Gone from my sight...that is all. She is just as large in mast and hull and spar as she was when she left my side and just as able to bear her load of living freight to the place of destination. Her diminished size is in me, not in her. And just at the moment when someone at my side says, 'There she goes!'"
The wind came again. A little stronger. Goose bumps ran up and down both of my arms. Hair stood. The tent puffed again and lifted higher as the last sentence of the poem was being spoken.
"There are other eyes watching her coming and other voices ready to take up the glad shout, 'there she comes!'"
For the third and final time, the tent lifted. Mama John was gone. Not only did I see her leave, I felt her spirit.
In the last years of her long life, several strokes weakened Mana John's little body. But, this tiny, sturdy, woman, my maternal grandmother, worked as hard as she knew how, facing the sorrows in her life and the challenges heaped upon her by the times in which she lived. With little education, a never ending wellspring of common sense, and fortitude, tested and conquered on a daily basis, she braved 91 years of service to her family.
People said Mana John had the healing power. Folks knocked on her door and with the eyes of those with no money to pay, asked her to cure their aches and pains. Not too often discussed in the family was her highly tuned sixth sense about things that had happened, or eerily, her 'sights' of events to come.
How I know this, I do not know. Perhaps, I overheard the grown-ups talking at night when I would crawl out of the big feather bed where her grandchildren slept, often, together, and I would lay by myself on the linoleum floor, at a half-opened door, listening.
My mother once told me that Mama John said I had the same gift of 'sight' and it shouldn't be encouraged. Mother later denied ever having said such a thing. Mother? That's another story.
Sunday, May 02, 2010
Tuesday, September 08, 2009
First Marathon
Joel Kehle found this story in his archieves and requested a posting. Jody Kehle has run four marathons since and is currently training for her sixth.
Monday, February 17, 1997 (the day after)
It's over! After six months of training. Ran the Motorola Marathon! Finished the Marathon! Four hours and 55 minutes. Placed fifth in my age group. Beaten by ladies from Round Rock, TX, Watonga, OK, Lexington, KY, and a lady from a place I've never heard of. There was one other person in my age group from Austin that placed. Normally, she beats me. Not this time, by golly! Everything from my waist down is so sore and walks very strangely. Peter said I looked like I was continually doing the "Funky Chicken," when in motion today.
Joel just called (on his way to a meeting), from somewhere on a highway in California, to see if I was still alive. He got so excited when I told him the news and said he would call later this evening.
I hadn't been up too long this morning when the phone rang and this young male voice said, "this is so-and-so and I'm with KXWxyg radio and we noticed you'd placed fifth in your age group in the marathon and we would like to interview you in five to 10 minutes. Would you be willing?" I said, "Now who is this? What radio station?" I thought it was a joke. When I understood he wasn't kidding, I told him to look at Judy Hitt's name listed in the 50-54 yr. old age category and pointed out that not only had she placed seventh, but that she was my training partner. He told me that he'd been trying to call her but apparently had an incorrect telephone number, which I quickly corrected for him. Anyway, about three minutes later, the phone rang, and both Judy and I had a fun five minute interview--three-way phone call. (In Judy's age group, there were three other winners from Austin). Then about 9:15 this morning, a radio station called the office asking for another interview. What a hoot! (Judy, 'the dog,' did both of these interviews from her bed).
One of the smartest things we did was to drive the race course Saturday morning, the day before the race. It was very helpful because I knew exactly what to expect during the race-- where the next hill was--where each mile point was--where the finish was. There were no surprises. Also, have you ever listened to stories about, or read stories about, marathon running and heard or read the expression, 'hitting the wall?' That means at just about 20 miles, the body shuts down (particularly your legs and says, "I don't want to do this anymore." From there on, it's simply mental toughness. Since I had not had the 20 mile experience, I didn't want to take any chances and for insurance, asked Ted Reynolds, who works in the office, to please be at the 20 mile mark and run me in (Unfortunately, Peter was in Houston).
They are true. All of those stories are no lie! I ran without stopping until the twentieth mile. I was by myself, losing Judy at around the 11th mile. I was so tired. Thirsty. Dispirited. My feet were a blistered mess! I kept looking for the mile water stop and saw a policeman waving us on. "Just around the next corner," he said. I rounded the corner. No water stop in sight. At the next corner was a volunteer. "Just around the corner," she said. I rounded that corner. No water stop, but I could see another curve in the road ahead. I thought, if it's not there, Ted's not there, that's it. I quit! Running around the third corner, there it was--at the top of a hill. And, I stopped for the first time and walked the short distance to water. Surprise! Lo and Behold! There was Ted Reynolds, fresh as a daisy, yelling, "Let's go, let's go!!" I told Ted to get right in front of me for the next 6.2 miles. We started out and a burning pain appeared deep in the front muscles of both legs. It felt like they'd been hit, hard, with a sledge hammer. It was very weird. My legs just wouldn't go. Ted and I started a pattern. Run until the next water station was in sight and then stop and walk. I talked to my legs for these last miles. "Come on legs, let's move it. Pick 'em up." Every time we stopped, I'd have to give them encouragement to get them moving forward again.
Mother gave me a very wonderful phone call the evening before the race. This was her message: "Just remember, when you run, Eric's by your side, and I'm not too far behind." Eric, mother, and Ted, got me through those last 6.2 miles. They were not the fastest of the marathon, but I wouldn't have finished without all three of them. By the way, Ted got such a 'high' from the experience, he'll probably enter Austin's Capitol 10,000.
The day was perfect for a 7:00 a.m. race. Cold to start. No wind. I had done everything possible to prepare correctly. Except--drank three cups of coffee, starting at 4:30 a.m. You're not supposed to have any. But, maybe that's advice for 20 year olds. Also, two cigarettes. Bad!!
At about eight miles into the raace, I looked down and spied a couple of cigarette butts in the street. "Boy! what I wouldn't give to stop and pick one of those up and smoke it," I shouted at Judy. I heard a couple of guys laugh and looked up to see two policemen--sympathetic, smoking comrads, I was certain. When I told this story to Peter, he said, "You didn't say THAT out loud did you?" Of course I did. There is nothing you can't or don't say out loud on a race run. Nothing is sacred. Anything to keep self and everyone else psyched up.
I discovered GU. This is a one oz packet of gelatin-like substance you can take along the run for energy. It's a pure and instantaneous shot of carbohydrates. I pinned the packets to my side, ripped them off, opened one at each hour along the run and when I was at a water stop, slurped some down. By the way, I grabbed a cup of water to drink at each mile water station. We were definitely lectured a lot about the potential problem of dehydration.
Judy and I stayed together until about the 11th mile. Then she stopped because her knee was hurting. While I've had foot/blister/bunion problems throughout this training, Judy's difficulty has been her knees. I saw her later on a route double-back; I think she was probably a mile behind me at that point. Then about the 15th or 16th mile, I saw Jeff, her son, and told him she was having problems and to run her the rest of the way in. From that point on, he did for his mon what Ted did for me. Jeff walked and ran and encouraged her over the finishh line. Judy came in about 20 minutes behind me. But, she made it!! We both reached our goal.
What crazy thing will we come up with next? Do stay tuned. I never thought I would even think the following, let along actually say it, but I really beleive that if I ran another marathon, I now know how to do it better.
Monday, February 17, 1997 (the day after)
It's over! After six months of training. Ran the Motorola Marathon! Finished the Marathon! Four hours and 55 minutes. Placed fifth in my age group. Beaten by ladies from Round Rock, TX, Watonga, OK, Lexington, KY, and a lady from a place I've never heard of. There was one other person in my age group from Austin that placed. Normally, she beats me. Not this time, by golly! Everything from my waist down is so sore and walks very strangely. Peter said I looked like I was continually doing the "Funky Chicken," when in motion today.
Joel just called (on his way to a meeting), from somewhere on a highway in California, to see if I was still alive. He got so excited when I told him the news and said he would call later this evening.
I hadn't been up too long this morning when the phone rang and this young male voice said, "this is so-and-so and I'm with KXWxyg radio and we noticed you'd placed fifth in your age group in the marathon and we would like to interview you in five to 10 minutes. Would you be willing?" I said, "Now who is this? What radio station?" I thought it was a joke. When I understood he wasn't kidding, I told him to look at Judy Hitt's name listed in the 50-54 yr. old age category and pointed out that not only had she placed seventh, but that she was my training partner. He told me that he'd been trying to call her but apparently had an incorrect telephone number, which I quickly corrected for him. Anyway, about three minutes later, the phone rang, and both Judy and I had a fun five minute interview--three-way phone call. (In Judy's age group, there were three other winners from Austin). Then about 9:15 this morning, a radio station called the office asking for another interview. What a hoot! (Judy, 'the dog,' did both of these interviews from her bed).
One of the smartest things we did was to drive the race course Saturday morning, the day before the race. It was very helpful because I knew exactly what to expect during the race-- where the next hill was--where each mile point was--where the finish was. There were no surprises. Also, have you ever listened to stories about, or read stories about, marathon running and heard or read the expression, 'hitting the wall?' That means at just about 20 miles, the body shuts down (particularly your legs and says, "I don't want to do this anymore." From there on, it's simply mental toughness. Since I had not had the 20 mile experience, I didn't want to take any chances and for insurance, asked Ted Reynolds, who works in the office, to please be at the 20 mile mark and run me in (Unfortunately, Peter was in Houston).
They are true. All of those stories are no lie! I ran without stopping until the twentieth mile. I was by myself, losing Judy at around the 11th mile. I was so tired. Thirsty. Dispirited. My feet were a blistered mess! I kept looking for the mile water stop and saw a policeman waving us on. "Just around the next corner," he said. I rounded the corner. No water stop in sight. At the next corner was a volunteer. "Just around the corner," she said. I rounded that corner. No water stop, but I could see another curve in the road ahead. I thought, if it's not there, Ted's not there, that's it. I quit! Running around the third corner, there it was--at the top of a hill. And, I stopped for the first time and walked the short distance to water. Surprise! Lo and Behold! There was Ted Reynolds, fresh as a daisy, yelling, "Let's go, let's go!!" I told Ted to get right in front of me for the next 6.2 miles. We started out and a burning pain appeared deep in the front muscles of both legs. It felt like they'd been hit, hard, with a sledge hammer. It was very weird. My legs just wouldn't go. Ted and I started a pattern. Run until the next water station was in sight and then stop and walk. I talked to my legs for these last miles. "Come on legs, let's move it. Pick 'em up." Every time we stopped, I'd have to give them encouragement to get them moving forward again.
Mother gave me a very wonderful phone call the evening before the race. This was her message: "Just remember, when you run, Eric's by your side, and I'm not too far behind." Eric, mother, and Ted, got me through those last 6.2 miles. They were not the fastest of the marathon, but I wouldn't have finished without all three of them. By the way, Ted got such a 'high' from the experience, he'll probably enter Austin's Capitol 10,000.
The day was perfect for a 7:00 a.m. race. Cold to start. No wind. I had done everything possible to prepare correctly. Except--drank three cups of coffee, starting at 4:30 a.m. You're not supposed to have any. But, maybe that's advice for 20 year olds. Also, two cigarettes. Bad!!
At about eight miles into the raace, I looked down and spied a couple of cigarette butts in the street. "Boy! what I wouldn't give to stop and pick one of those up and smoke it," I shouted at Judy. I heard a couple of guys laugh and looked up to see two policemen--sympathetic, smoking comrads, I was certain. When I told this story to Peter, he said, "You didn't say THAT out loud did you?" Of course I did. There is nothing you can't or don't say out loud on a race run. Nothing is sacred. Anything to keep self and everyone else psyched up.
I discovered GU. This is a one oz packet of gelatin-like substance you can take along the run for energy. It's a pure and instantaneous shot of carbohydrates. I pinned the packets to my side, ripped them off, opened one at each hour along the run and when I was at a water stop, slurped some down. By the way, I grabbed a cup of water to drink at each mile water station. We were definitely lectured a lot about the potential problem of dehydration.
Judy and I stayed together until about the 11th mile. Then she stopped because her knee was hurting. While I've had foot/blister/bunion problems throughout this training, Judy's difficulty has been her knees. I saw her later on a route double-back; I think she was probably a mile behind me at that point. Then about the 15th or 16th mile, I saw Jeff, her son, and told him she was having problems and to run her the rest of the way in. From that point on, he did for his mon what Ted did for me. Jeff walked and ran and encouraged her over the finishh line. Judy came in about 20 minutes behind me. But, she made it!! We both reached our goal.
What crazy thing will we come up with next? Do stay tuned. I never thought I would even think the following, let along actually say it, but I really beleive that if I ran another marathon, I now know how to do it better.
Monday, April 07, 2008
"Blog It Mom!"
"Blog It Mon!" Yep, that's exactly what he said to me. My son and I were talking the other night. I'm in Austin and he's in LA -- just a little left of me as the map goes. Now, that I'm thinking about it, he's also left handed and he might be a little left of me politically. But, that's beside the point and I'm getting off track.
Joel is coming for a visit this Friday and he called to tell me he might be on another one of his peculiar diets and not to stock up on regular groceries. I told him I am eating a little strangely these days, too, so meals would not be a problem. For instance, I went on, I had just finished supper and eaten four apricots, one toast with honey, a bowl of jell-o with canned peaches, chased down by two cups of green tea. After he finished laughing, I heard, "Blog It Mom!"
Joel is coming for a visit this Friday and he called to tell me he might be on another one of his peculiar diets and not to stock up on regular groceries. I told him I am eating a little strangely these days, too, so meals would not be a problem. For instance, I went on, I had just finished supper and eaten four apricots, one toast with honey, a bowl of jell-o with canned peaches, chased down by two cups of green tea. After he finished laughing, I heard, "Blog It Mom!"
Friday, December 28, 2007
The Badger, the Boa constrictor, and the Unicorn
After rolling out of bed this morning at my normal, unnatural hour of 5 a.m., the first addictive switch of the day triggered and off I went to check whatever emails magically found their way to me overnight. First in the batch was Joel and his dream.
"The night before Christmas I had a dream: I was running/walking down a trail to get to the old lake house. There were several wild animals on the way there -- some of them chasing me, some of them just there. I remember a badger type animal and then a large boa constrictor that I had to step over. At the very end of the trail, right before the lake house, one miniature white unicorn the size of a large dog or a goat came running up to me. I held it in my arms and it licked my face affectionately. This was very vivid. What does it mean?"
After the first sleepy read, I realized this dream required some cogitating boosted by a cup of coffee. There were just too many animals to think about this early in the morning.
By 6:00 a.m., I was on to my next addiction -- early morning running. Lucky me, I can still claim a running partner. And, double lucky for me, Laura is about 25 years younger than me. but, I decided, long ago, it's a trade-off. I learn from Laura and somehow or another, I manage to say a few things that elicit an "Oh, I didn't know that!" from her. For example, we were talking about some subject a couple of days ago, and Sheena came to mind -- Sheena, Queen of the Jungle. Imagine! Laura had never heard of her. I have to bring Sheena out occasionally, grab her shield and hold it in front of me to help fight off the foes and forces of whatever. As we start the New Year, it's the Whatever's I'm getting ready for, I told Laura and she laughed with joy.
As for my daily dose of education, Laura tried to explain to me how she got those family pictures into a Christmas card and managed to send it by email to her crowd of family and friends. So, you see, Laura teaches me the concepts and basic vocabulary used by the wizardry of technology and I try to remember to share lessons I learned -- far before Laura ever imagined she would be running the streets of Austin, in the dark, listening to Sheena, tales of animal dreams, and bits and pieces of wisdom learned, joggled into my memory by the fresh air of the morning from a childhood lived in another time. I call it the forward running and backward running time of the day.
Yesterday morning we were running -- Laura and I. The streets were unusually vacant. Not many runners, early morning walkers, bicyclers, or cars. The couple of people we met or passed and said a "Good Morning" to, didn't respond. One man we passed was just standing with a Thursday morning glum look on his face. Laura mentioned that what we were seeing and not hearing was certainly peculiar. I told her the last time that I could remember experiencing such non-responsiveness from people and not understanding why, was the morning I learned that President Kennedy had been assassinated. Back home, and turning on the T.V. to catch the morning headlines, an eerie reminder of, although we live with such rapid change, there is some enduring sameness after all -- Benazir Bhutto of Pakistan had been assassinated.
I wonder if Laura even remembers my Kennedy comment. I will have to ask her. this is a time tested given with running -- although there is talk, talk, talk, and many personal secrets shared, as soon as the run is over, much of what is said, is forgotten. What if the streets and trails could talk? The animals? Back to the animals again -- The dream. In this story, it's time to close the circle.
Joel knows I have this old, thick, thumbed through, dream book. From A to Z, 10,000 dreams are interpreted. It's been grabbed many a morning, as both Joel and I seem to have dreams a few ticks off center. Take this morning for instance, my dream memory was of oatmeal. Now really, how many people usually dream of oatmeal? There were a couple of individual oats in my bowl with dark, unwanted flicks. In my dream, I simply picked them out, threw them away, and went on about my merry business.
New knowing what I am going to read about a particular dream, and not wanting to be, 'three strikes and you're out' with the Badger, Boa Constrictor and the Unicorn, I picked up the book, blew the dust off the cover, closed one eye and squinted with the other, and turned to the U's -- Unicorn. I know it's silly, but the pace of my heartbeat picked up a tad. "To dream of a unicorn, signifies good fortune and happy circumstance." Whew! This is what the G. H. Miller book said. Right there on page 529.
On to the B's -- Boa Constrictor. Whoops! "To dream of this, is just about the same as to dream of the devil." Joel would have been better off to have killed the darn snake according to Miller. I hesitate. Oh, the confusion of coming from and mixing two worldviews. But, there is a lesson here. The Cherokee have a great reverence for snakes. They are ghosts that occasionally visit us in dreams with reminders of caution. They can be regarded as prophesies. And, as it is said, the devil is in the details -- such as being on the lookout for how and what we are eating, whether or not we have forgotten to schedule our days with regularity in reference to food and sleep. The devil can be a good little reminding tap on the shoulder.
Last comes the B's -- Badger. "to dream of a badger, is a sign of good luck after battles with hardship." Thank you Mr. Miller. After the third swing, I'd say Joel hit a home run. The devil, the Lord, and his mother, only know the battles of life he has fought and survived. I've even thrown Sheena's shield in front of him more than once. But, for the moment, if Joel remembers the lesson of the Boa Constrictor, I would say he jumped the devil and had a double-dose of good luck. Oh-me-oh-my. Third addiction coming on.
"The night before Christmas I had a dream: I was running/walking down a trail to get to the old lake house. There were several wild animals on the way there -- some of them chasing me, some of them just there. I remember a badger type animal and then a large boa constrictor that I had to step over. At the very end of the trail, right before the lake house, one miniature white unicorn the size of a large dog or a goat came running up to me. I held it in my arms and it licked my face affectionately. This was very vivid. What does it mean?"
After the first sleepy read, I realized this dream required some cogitating boosted by a cup of coffee. There were just too many animals to think about this early in the morning.
By 6:00 a.m., I was on to my next addiction -- early morning running. Lucky me, I can still claim a running partner. And, double lucky for me, Laura is about 25 years younger than me. but, I decided, long ago, it's a trade-off. I learn from Laura and somehow or another, I manage to say a few things that elicit an "Oh, I didn't know that!" from her. For example, we were talking about some subject a couple of days ago, and Sheena came to mind -- Sheena, Queen of the Jungle. Imagine! Laura had never heard of her. I have to bring Sheena out occasionally, grab her shield and hold it in front of me to help fight off the foes and forces of whatever. As we start the New Year, it's the Whatever's I'm getting ready for, I told Laura and she laughed with joy.
As for my daily dose of education, Laura tried to explain to me how she got those family pictures into a Christmas card and managed to send it by email to her crowd of family and friends. So, you see, Laura teaches me the concepts and basic vocabulary used by the wizardry of technology and I try to remember to share lessons I learned -- far before Laura ever imagined she would be running the streets of Austin, in the dark, listening to Sheena, tales of animal dreams, and bits and pieces of wisdom learned, joggled into my memory by the fresh air of the morning from a childhood lived in another time. I call it the forward running and backward running time of the day.
Yesterday morning we were running -- Laura and I. The streets were unusually vacant. Not many runners, early morning walkers, bicyclers, or cars. The couple of people we met or passed and said a "Good Morning" to, didn't respond. One man we passed was just standing with a Thursday morning glum look on his face. Laura mentioned that what we were seeing and not hearing was certainly peculiar. I told her the last time that I could remember experiencing such non-responsiveness from people and not understanding why, was the morning I learned that President Kennedy had been assassinated. Back home, and turning on the T.V. to catch the morning headlines, an eerie reminder of, although we live with such rapid change, there is some enduring sameness after all -- Benazir Bhutto of Pakistan had been assassinated.
I wonder if Laura even remembers my Kennedy comment. I will have to ask her. this is a time tested given with running -- although there is talk, talk, talk, and many personal secrets shared, as soon as the run is over, much of what is said, is forgotten. What if the streets and trails could talk? The animals? Back to the animals again -- The dream. In this story, it's time to close the circle.
Joel knows I have this old, thick, thumbed through, dream book. From A to Z, 10,000 dreams are interpreted. It's been grabbed many a morning, as both Joel and I seem to have dreams a few ticks off center. Take this morning for instance, my dream memory was of oatmeal. Now really, how many people usually dream of oatmeal? There were a couple of individual oats in my bowl with dark, unwanted flicks. In my dream, I simply picked them out, threw them away, and went on about my merry business.
New knowing what I am going to read about a particular dream, and not wanting to be, 'three strikes and you're out' with the Badger, Boa Constrictor and the Unicorn, I picked up the book, blew the dust off the cover, closed one eye and squinted with the other, and turned to the U's -- Unicorn. I know it's silly, but the pace of my heartbeat picked up a tad. "To dream of a unicorn, signifies good fortune and happy circumstance." Whew! This is what the G. H. Miller book said. Right there on page 529.
On to the B's -- Boa Constrictor. Whoops! "To dream of this, is just about the same as to dream of the devil." Joel would have been better off to have killed the darn snake according to Miller. I hesitate. Oh, the confusion of coming from and mixing two worldviews. But, there is a lesson here. The Cherokee have a great reverence for snakes. They are ghosts that occasionally visit us in dreams with reminders of caution. They can be regarded as prophesies. And, as it is said, the devil is in the details -- such as being on the lookout for how and what we are eating, whether or not we have forgotten to schedule our days with regularity in reference to food and sleep. The devil can be a good little reminding tap on the shoulder.
Last comes the B's -- Badger. "to dream of a badger, is a sign of good luck after battles with hardship." Thank you Mr. Miller. After the third swing, I'd say Joel hit a home run. The devil, the Lord, and his mother, only know the battles of life he has fought and survived. I've even thrown Sheena's shield in front of him more than once. But, for the moment, if Joel remembers the lesson of the Boa Constrictor, I would say he jumped the devil and had a double-dose of good luck. Oh-me-oh-my. Third addiction coming on.
Saturday, May 12, 2007
semester over -- I'll never get to big for my britches!
Last Sunday, 10:00 in the morning, I declared the semester over! Finished!! Completed!!! It is now Tuesday morning and I am wondering what to do with myself. The ending of it all wan't without its own brand of terror, though. All computer/software related. It is really irritating to know that all these little steps of getting the computer to do what it is supposed to do, are already mastered by elementary school children. I mean, it is really, really irritating. My level of understanding is very evident in my voacbulary. I am still at/with -- "it," and, primarily, "thingamajig."
Anyway, the current frustration all started with my having finished the last semester's paper -- the one for Qualitative Analysis. We were supposed to post our paper on Blackboard, number the pages, but leave off #1 on the first page. Well! I didn't know how to do that so I called Linda Fernandez to help. She said, "No problem," just email my paper to her and we would get it fixed on the spot. So, I did -- and, we did. Or, rather, Linda did. All I needed to do then, was create my Table of Contents, which would show up with a #2 on its page.
Following Linda's instructions, I could then post my paper. This was Saturday night. Well! The final product, remember, was captured in the email to Linda. The original unfinished, non-numbered paper was in "My Documents." It is when the paper is in this spot -- where it is supposed to be -- that I know how to post from Blackboard. Somehow or another, I was supposed to get the finished paper that was captured in Linda's email to "My Documents." Well! I couldn't do that. "It" kept telling me "it" was already there. When I tried to trick the computer and rename the file, "it" still kept telling me "it" was already there. Now it was both the computer and elementary school children that are smarter than me.
As it got later and I got more tired and frustrated, I became fearful that I would, not-so-very-gently, hit the wrong button and erase my paper. So, I made the decision to call it a night, emailed Linda that we did not have lift-off, and I would call her in the morning again seeking help. Well! That computer kept me awake until after mid-night.
O.K. It is Sunday. New day and new attitude. Actually, it is what you might call, fake it until you make it. Went for a long run, came home, bathed, shampooed my hair, and got into my "fighting-I'm-gonna-win-this-round," clothes. Called Linda. She led me throught the steps of getting "it" over to "there." I had added a paragraph to the original, non-finished paper that was sitting in "My Documents," which also required an addition to the reference page. I just can't stop fiddling with my writing. It is never finished and I can always think of new and different ways of saying things. Anyway, this required Linda leading me through the process of "copy and paste." Well! By 10:00, it was a done deal. Posted. You would think one by-product of all this intense stress would be loss of appetite with the reward of weight loss. No way, Jimmy Joe. It was munchy, munchy, munchy, until the end of the ordeal.
This is the end of the story. You would think I would feel better with mission accomplished. But, that state of well-being can't quite come over me because I can't remember anything Linda taught me. That's what anxiety will do to you. It's a memory stealer -- that's for sure.
Anyway, the current frustration all started with my having finished the last semester's paper -- the one for Qualitative Analysis. We were supposed to post our paper on Blackboard, number the pages, but leave off #1 on the first page. Well! I didn't know how to do that so I called Linda Fernandez to help. She said, "No problem," just email my paper to her and we would get it fixed on the spot. So, I did -- and, we did. Or, rather, Linda did. All I needed to do then, was create my Table of Contents, which would show up with a #2 on its page.
Following Linda's instructions, I could then post my paper. This was Saturday night. Well! The final product, remember, was captured in the email to Linda. The original unfinished, non-numbered paper was in "My Documents." It is when the paper is in this spot -- where it is supposed to be -- that I know how to post from Blackboard. Somehow or another, I was supposed to get the finished paper that was captured in Linda's email to "My Documents." Well! I couldn't do that. "It" kept telling me "it" was already there. When I tried to trick the computer and rename the file, "it" still kept telling me "it" was already there. Now it was both the computer and elementary school children that are smarter than me.
As it got later and I got more tired and frustrated, I became fearful that I would, not-so-very-gently, hit the wrong button and erase my paper. So, I made the decision to call it a night, emailed Linda that we did not have lift-off, and I would call her in the morning again seeking help. Well! That computer kept me awake until after mid-night.
O.K. It is Sunday. New day and new attitude. Actually, it is what you might call, fake it until you make it. Went for a long run, came home, bathed, shampooed my hair, and got into my "fighting-I'm-gonna-win-this-round," clothes. Called Linda. She led me throught the steps of getting "it" over to "there." I had added a paragraph to the original, non-finished paper that was sitting in "My Documents," which also required an addition to the reference page. I just can't stop fiddling with my writing. It is never finished and I can always think of new and different ways of saying things. Anyway, this required Linda leading me through the process of "copy and paste." Well! By 10:00, it was a done deal. Posted. You would think one by-product of all this intense stress would be loss of appetite with the reward of weight loss. No way, Jimmy Joe. It was munchy, munchy, munchy, until the end of the ordeal.
This is the end of the story. You would think I would feel better with mission accomplished. But, that state of well-being can't quite come over me because I can't remember anything Linda taught me. That's what anxiety will do to you. It's a memory stealer -- that's for sure.
Thursday, March 08, 2007
Conversations with Karen
Why, Oh Why, have I been resisting writing journals these past few days. Two reasons really. Sometimes I just get plain tired and bored talking about myself. The second, when I roll out of bed in the mornings, my mind starts thinking and coding my dreams and letting free thoughts float to the surface. Some are often surprises, having been stuck back in the shadows for quite some time.
By the time I've packed the car, driven down Mesa to my running spot and finished, driven to the office, unloaded books and the day's lunch on my chair, I would guess a couple of jounal stories have been mentally written. Here are a couple of thoughts I've been meaning to mention.
When we were in Albuquerque, Karen watched me throw away a half smoked cigarette. "Why did you do that? she asked. "Isn't that expensive?" I rationalized to her that smoking half was better than smoking the whole thing. Besides, my pharmacognocist friend, Jerry, told me that the worst part of the nicotine and tar were in the last half of the cigarette. And, remember, Jerry is a PhD. He should know what he's talking about -- shouldn't he? Also, he smoked years ago when he was in the military. I really am running out of smoking excuses, aren't I?
A couple of weeks ago, I emailed Karen that I'd just tapped the computer "send" key and emailed a paper due for my quantitative class. She asked, "Were you please with it? Or, just glad to get it done?" Probably more the latter. As I get closer and closer to finishing the "programs" course work, I can't deny that I am getting mentally tired. Stoking up the energy to read and write is becoming more of a chore. Then, was I pleased with it? I'm truly never completely pleased with my writing as I think of the exercise as putting a puzzle together. Your've got ideas, you've done research, and there are all of these words that need to be put together to make a story. I take all of those words, toss them in the air and look at them, where they fell and then start picking up the pieces to fit them together. The thing is, you can do this a hundred times. Throw them in the air, watch them fall, reach down, pick up, and put them together again for the story. Only this time, it can be told a different way. The writer in me always wonders if there was a better way to tell it.
By the time I've packed the car, driven down Mesa to my running spot and finished, driven to the office, unloaded books and the day's lunch on my chair, I would guess a couple of jounal stories have been mentally written. Here are a couple of thoughts I've been meaning to mention.
When we were in Albuquerque, Karen watched me throw away a half smoked cigarette. "Why did you do that? she asked. "Isn't that expensive?" I rationalized to her that smoking half was better than smoking the whole thing. Besides, my pharmacognocist friend, Jerry, told me that the worst part of the nicotine and tar were in the last half of the cigarette. And, remember, Jerry is a PhD. He should know what he's talking about -- shouldn't he? Also, he smoked years ago when he was in the military. I really am running out of smoking excuses, aren't I?
A couple of weeks ago, I emailed Karen that I'd just tapped the computer "send" key and emailed a paper due for my quantitative class. She asked, "Were you please with it? Or, just glad to get it done?" Probably more the latter. As I get closer and closer to finishing the "programs" course work, I can't deny that I am getting mentally tired. Stoking up the energy to read and write is becoming more of a chore. Then, was I pleased with it? I'm truly never completely pleased with my writing as I think of the exercise as putting a puzzle together. Your've got ideas, you've done research, and there are all of these words that need to be put together to make a story. I take all of those words, toss them in the air and look at them, where they fell and then start picking up the pieces to fit them together. The thing is, you can do this a hundred times. Throw them in the air, watch them fall, reach down, pick up, and put them together again for the story. Only this time, it can be told a different way. The writer in me always wonders if there was a better way to tell it.
Sunday, March 04, 2007
On The Path To Wisdon....and Other Thought Fragments
The moon is too full this evening. It doesn't feel right. The "spirits" of the universe are distrubed. This is what I believe.
I really do pay attention to astrology -- what happens in the heavens -- the positioning and action between the planets and the stars does have bearing on our Earth and therefore, our lives. Also, I believe in my dreams. They tell me stories with their own signs and symbols. They create my private dream language. Most of the time I listen to what they are saying because I've learned to do so.
On windy days, like today, it's prudent to take notice. Messages are carried on the wind.
Vine Deloria, Jr. in "God Is Red (2003, p. 144) talks about Carl Jung's suggestion of the existence of the archetypes and symbols of the universal human experience found in a collective unconscious. As Jung studied human spiritual problems, he further suggested that the unconscious presented dreams to us, using these various symbols as stories, so we would be able to work through various psychological difficulties. Generally, stories do hold a lesson. Some are buried a little deeper than others.
Peter came by this afternoon for a visit. I've done a disservice to my sons as I protected them too much after Eric's death. I kept them children too long. Now I can see the mistakes of my ways but there was not too much I could do about it during the years of time past. As they grew to manhood, I was always there to help -- never letting them solve their own problems -- learn from their own mistakes that are the inevitabilities of a life. And, of course, this is the only way character and soul depth and internal strength are developed.
Recognizing what I'd done, this last peck of trouble Peter got himself into, I stood aside. And, oh, it has been so painful to watch him these past four years -- learning how to solve his own problems -- a process I should have allowed to begin years ago. Often I feared for his emotional health. But, he is finding his way through. He is getting his "game" back. And, most importantly, he is doing the work by himself. I will always be there as a safety net. I think everyone has to believe they have this fall back, even if it's never asked to be used.
Listening to him this afternoon I can tell that heh is different. It's apparent he has become a little wiser having learned from past mistakes. This is good.
A new month is beginning. March. My Cherokee calendar says this is the "Month of the Windy Moon." The featured "Herb" Wild Onions relieve dizzy spells, aid digestive process & lower blood pressure."
Love to Everyone.
Jody
I really do pay attention to astrology -- what happens in the heavens -- the positioning and action between the planets and the stars does have bearing on our Earth and therefore, our lives. Also, I believe in my dreams. They tell me stories with their own signs and symbols. They create my private dream language. Most of the time I listen to what they are saying because I've learned to do so.
On windy days, like today, it's prudent to take notice. Messages are carried on the wind.
Vine Deloria, Jr. in "God Is Red (2003, p. 144) talks about Carl Jung's suggestion of the existence of the archetypes and symbols of the universal human experience found in a collective unconscious. As Jung studied human spiritual problems, he further suggested that the unconscious presented dreams to us, using these various symbols as stories, so we would be able to work through various psychological difficulties. Generally, stories do hold a lesson. Some are buried a little deeper than others.
Peter came by this afternoon for a visit. I've done a disservice to my sons as I protected them too much after Eric's death. I kept them children too long. Now I can see the mistakes of my ways but there was not too much I could do about it during the years of time past. As they grew to manhood, I was always there to help -- never letting them solve their own problems -- learn from their own mistakes that are the inevitabilities of a life. And, of course, this is the only way character and soul depth and internal strength are developed.
Recognizing what I'd done, this last peck of trouble Peter got himself into, I stood aside. And, oh, it has been so painful to watch him these past four years -- learning how to solve his own problems -- a process I should have allowed to begin years ago. Often I feared for his emotional health. But, he is finding his way through. He is getting his "game" back. And, most importantly, he is doing the work by himself. I will always be there as a safety net. I think everyone has to believe they have this fall back, even if it's never asked to be used.
Listening to him this afternoon I can tell that heh is different. It's apparent he has become a little wiser having learned from past mistakes. This is good.
A new month is beginning. March. My Cherokee calendar says this is the "Month of the Windy Moon." The featured "Herb" Wild Onions relieve dizzy spells, aid digestive process & lower blood pressure."
Love to Everyone.
Jody
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