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Higher costs, uncertainty and crony capitalism, oh my

A senior executive who objected was marched out of his office and put on leave, while earlier warnings about the agency’s deaths database were ignored.

Sarah started it on March 20 with a short text. “Do you think you might be sick on April 4th?” I replied, “Do you think I’m looking a little pale?” Sarah’s response: “I think you might be coming down with something…” To which I countered: “Are you looking at the Ovi clock?” She was. Sarah and I have been sharing a love of the Washington Capitals since she took up ice hockey in 2012.  

During WWI, America lurched toward autocracy. Resistance was minimal.

It's thundering tonight as I sit in the basement at my computer, and an unexpected memory floats into my head. I’m remembering a 4th grade student from  many years back.  He was the first that I’d had in a class who had the diagnosis of Aspberger's Syndrome, and his was a classic and challenging profile.  He was small, bespectacled, at times delightful and other times...difficult.

#31 out of 31 I began this slice of life challenge with a plan to write stories inspired by the artifacts I recovered from our cluttered attic. I intended it as a gift to my daughter, hoping to spare her the hassle of sifting through (or wading through) an overwhelming store of saved items in our attic and basement. I also thought it might help me to keep my eye on valuable memories rather than obsessing about the distressing things happening in Washington.

#30 out of 31 Greener I planted peas today, removing the straw from the bed's top layer  picking out the thin blades that had sprouted under that cover, loosening the composty soil, dropping in the seeds giving them a gentle push. It felt like spring for the first time today, Warmer, brighter, and slightly greener than yesterday. Nature trying to counter the news.

#29 out of 31 The events of this week have caused my mind to take some odd turns. I’m afraid this slice might reflect that drift from reality. Our school has embarked on a whole-school read. We call it One Book, Two Schools, because we pass our books on to another school when we are finished. This year we’re reading a book called…

#28 out of 31 Dear Me, I probably should have written about this earlier in the month. It might have actually given a bit more unity to my slices. Back in January, at church, our minister started a new tradition for our congregation. It is probably not new to others. I think she actually said where she happened upon this idea.

#27 out of 31 This month, I plan to write slices inspired by some of the treasures I unearthed as I tried to clear out our overflowing attic. I trashed a lot. I lugged a lot to GoodWill. And from my daughters’ elementary school archives, great bulging brown portfolios full of papers and projects from each grade, I scanned the ones that we couldn’t seem to toss.

I have important news to report from the lunch room. Today at approximately 10:55 a.m., in the vicinity of the purple table near the stage area in our cafeteria, I received the coveted cheese touch. Naturally, I’m feeling both honored and blessed to have had this gift bestowed upon me. It’s a joyous thing to be included in the rituals and celebrations of the younger generation.

#25 out of 31 Got a text from Sarah this morning: Can you pick me up at the train station after school?  I’ll try to time it with the end of the day since it’s rainy. I didn’t expect Sarah to be coming home today, so my first reaction was to be happy, because deep down, I’m actually an optimist.

(Some reflections on old time parenting) Nancy and I took a little road trip today to Lowell, Massachusetts to see my nephew playing Hamlet in the Reduced Shakespeare Company’s production of The Comedy of Hamlet, the prequel. He was brilliant, of course, but that’s not what I’m going to write about. I’ve set my timer for 15 minutes (my daughter’s advice last year when she got tired of me whining about not knowing what to write) and I know my topic.

#23 out of 31 Inspired by mbhmaine’s Jersey Day post. I KNOW I have that picture somewhere.  I can see it so clearly.  Alan is standing in the parking lot in his red rain jacket.  He’s pointing toward his car as two fourth graders, Harold and Sean listen.  They have a hose trained on Alan’s car.  I can hear his voice, a cross between crusty New England and homespun Ohio. 

In yesterday’s post, I wrote about a fairly benign memory associated with one of my students from the distant past. It’s hard to even say what makes that moment memorable for me, except for the fact that I have (or had) a photo to remind me. I also mentioned that there was another story. It involved that same student, and it carries a bit more weight.

#21 out of 31 No, this is not about the New York Times game. This is about one of those circular moments. Today my wife sent me a text with a photo and a simple message: “Harold says hi.” It made me happy. Nancy heads a foundation that supports a community college near us. She has been hoping that Harold will join her board.

#20 out of 31 Nancy sent me an email today with this image from an organization called CTSupportGroups. We are both introverts, but she wasn’t suggesting that we visit the support group. She mostly found it a thought-provoking concept. She thought I might be able to overthink about it for a while…and perhaps not bother her tonight with my usual “What should I write about?” whining.

Among the papers I found in my mom’s file cabinets after her death, were the articles, letters, speeches and resumes of her mother, my grandmother. I thought of those papers today because of an article and column I read in this morning’s Washington Post. The column decried the current administration putting the entire staff of Voice of America on administrative leave.

When I started as a teacher in Westport, I was 24 years old. In human male years, that means I was roughly 18 or 19, depending on which conversion chart you use.  I had a huge advantage over other 18-19 year-old equivalents, though.  I had a mentor teacher in the room next door.  Pat was also teaching a fourth grade class, so she could model just about everything I was going to teach. 

#16 out of 31 This month, I plan to write slices inspired by some of the treasures I unearthed as I tried to clear out our overflowing attic. I trashed a lot. I lugged a lot to GoodWill. And from my daughters’ elementary school archives, great bulging brown portfolios full of papers and projects from each grade, I scanned the ones that we couldn’t seem to toss.