Disability

Disability isn’t always easily observed.

Not the tricycle on the sidewalk missing one wheel,

Or the china doll on the dresser with no eyes.

Disability sometimes means, just barely cracked.

Like the vase on the piano Mother always turned

A certain way, so you wouldn’t see that it was broken

Unless you picked it up and examined closely.

And you couldn’t fill that vase with water;

It wouldn’t hold a bouquet of garden roses,

But was always pretty sitting there

With some dried leaves and cattails,

Or a few nicely arranged silk flowers.

And therefore was, too useful to discard.

The Language of Faction

Is anyone else disturbed by the language being used by some of the GOP hopefuls? I personally have trouble with the terms “state’s rights” and “cession”. These terms were last used rhetorically during desegregation of the South in the 1960s, and during the violently factional discussions leading up to the Civil War in the 1850s. Rick Perry says he is reborn – and I think he might have been George Wallace in a previous life, or maybe John Calhoun. I can only assume Texas A&M didn’t offer a US History class in their Ag Program. The idea that a state has the right to secede from the Union was settled in the bloodiest War in American history, at the cost of 618,000 American lives.
Some of the GOP candidates have demonstrated an extremely shaky knowledge of US History. Bachman believes that the US Constitution was intended to form a theocracy. I am sure that would surprise the hell out of James Madison, Alexander Hamilton, John Adams, and John Jay. The only mention in the US Constitution of religion is in Article VI which specifies that “no religious test shall ever be required as Qualification of any office or Public trust under the United States”. The 1st Amendment of the Bill of Rights starts out: “Congress shall make no laws respecting the establishment of a religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof,”
In the Federalists Papers, authored by the same people who wrote the US Constitution and served in the first federal government, Alexander Hamilton and James Madison “the Father of the Constitution” both argue against the danger of factions to the Union. Madison, in Federalist 10, defines the most serious source of faction to be “the diversity of opinion in political life which leads to dispute over fundamental issues such as what regime or religion should be preferred.” This doesn’t really sound to me like they were thinking about a theocracy.
I'm admittedly a liberal, and definitely not a registered Republican, but I am looking at this use of language from the point of view of a teacher. The thing that bothers me the most is the intentional twisting or horrific ignorance of US History. These two candidates are making George W. Bush look like a genius.

Improvements to our Local Schools

One nice thing about being retired is you can reflect on how things SHOULD BE DONE - I have always thought of what I would do, if I was in charge of the schools, or the town, or the world. So, since I have 25 years experience with the schools, this is some of what I would do to fix some of the problems I observed over the years.

Carlsbad School system needs major reorganization. The district needs to build a new junior high school. They need to change the districting line between the two junior highs from east/west to north/south, so the obvious economic disparity would even out. Then they could open up at least one of the grades schools that have been closed. That would make room to send the 6th graders back to the elementary schools where they belong. (11 year old girls do not belong in a school with 14, sometimes 15 year old boys.) The system would then be able to utilize the PR Leyva site as a 9th grade Academy. (Hobbs has 3 junior highs and a 9th grade academy) This would give the high school room to expand the classes offered. This would also make the discipline of students more manageable. The number of students and the large acreage at the high school makes it very difficult to control the flow of students between classes and during lunches. Parking problems would diminish because there wouldn't be 9th graders driving to CHS. The district needs to expand the elementary physical education and music programs. Physical education and music both have an unexpected positive effect on children's brain function and learning abilities. The district also should expand the High School technical, automotive, vocational, and construction classes. And to keep our children competitive in the modern world, there is a need for the foreign language department to add Mandarin to the curriculum. Much more could be done in the classroom to take advantage of the vast technological proficiency of the students. This may not be a complete list, but it is a start.

I think our local school system is full of great teachers and excellent administrators. And I know how hard the job is. This is in no way a criticism of the people who are working their backsides off every day to give our children a superior education. I admire each and every one of them. This is just a wish list of solutions to problems I have seen over my years behind the desk and in front of the classroom.

Whistle in the Night

Still awake and listening
At 2:15 in the quiet of the morning
I heard the train whistle blow
At every empty intersection,
Chugging slowly away
Through the silent moonlit town.
Remembering many years
of this recurring nighttime noise.
I could tell the eager engineer
Was enjoying himself –
The echo of the whistle
Lasted just a tad bit little longer
Than was absolutely necessary
For his lonesome, morning ride.
I smiled sleepily, but amused,
And flipped my pillow to the cool side.

In the Record Book - And I Was There.

Carlsbad has always been a baseball town. The first mention of baseball in early Eddy/Carlsbad newspapers was in the Eddy Argus in 1892. And at one time we had our own semi-pro team. Yes, our small New Mexico town, hosted a semi-professional baseball team, The Potashers, from 1953 until 1961. They played at Montgomery Field, located near the Beach and owned by Real Estate developer C.F. Montgomery.

At various times, the team was ranked B level, C level, or sophmore league. The longest homerun ever recorded was hit at Montgomery Field on August 11, 1959 by Potasher, Gil Carter. It was my birthday and my Dad took me to the game for my birthday. We sat in the second row right behind the catcher. Gil Carter never made it to the bigs. But he has his name in the record book for that hit - 730 feet.

If you are from Carlsbad you might remember the field as the Connie Mack Field. I have a lot of good memories of keeping score at the Connie Mack games in the summers when I was in high school. The field is gone now. It was the soccer field for a while, and now it is a new development project.

According to Sports Illustrated reference (Dorbin, Jerry. Elysian Fields Quarterly Review, 2001)

The date was August 11, 1959. It was Carter's 28th homer, a new league record in the circuit's second season. Carter was a 218 pound former boxer from Topeka. He'd been an all-star fullback in high school, but lived in Kansas City when the Chicago Cubs assigned him to the little potash mining city on the Pecos River near the Caverns which bear the town's name.
The sports editor for the Carlsbad Current Argus, the official scorer that night was also a service trained aerial photographer. He was flown over the field the next day and photographed the scene. Prints were laid out on Montgomery's desk. The monstrous stroke was measured and triangulated. Give or take a couple of inches, the ball was found 730 feet from home plate.

Carlsbad is still a baseball town. We have always had a good Little League program and a great High School baseball program that has sent a few players to the "Big Show". Right now our current local Major League star is Cody Ross, who plays for the 2010 World Series Champions, the San Francisco Giants.

Happy Birthday to Me.

I am now 59. Wow, I remember in junior high thinking that the highschool students were really old and sophisticated. And in High School thinking the college crowd knew everything. And the banner of our generation, "Don't trust anyone over 30." Oopps. Remember how we thought all of our teachers were really old? And that our parents were clueless. I would love to be 16 again, but only if I could be 16 and know what I know now. Those lessons were painful and I wouldn't want to repeat them for anything. We were young and invincible. I did so many dumb things, pretty much from the age of 12 on; Riding my bike across the top of the flumes on a dare; jumping off the top of the RR bridge, running the quarter on the Hobbs highway when I had just barely learned to drive. Riding on the back of motorcycles with boys who probably didn't have much more experience than me. We rode bikes without helmets, down C-Hill if you were brave enough. Instead of seat belts we got whacked by Mother's right arm if she had to stop at little more quickly than planned. We sunbathed without sunscreen, baby oil and iodine was the preferred solution. We played outside til the streetlights came on. We went to the beach in the summer and stayed all day. I loved laying on the raft and jumping off the tower. Remember how on really hot days the asphalt in the beach parking lot got spongy under our feet? We had curfews and parents that were serious about them. If I was 10 minutes late, my dad was sitting on the porch in his fire engine red pjs. That was always an interesting ending to a date. There was going to the Cavern theatre on Friday night and meeting boys at the skate rink on Saturday morning. Before we got our licenses, we would walk to Thelma's on Saturday to buy a vinyl album, usually $5.00. Walk back home and listen to music and hang out. I loved to go to the Babe Ruth field and watch the boys play baseball. Later when I was older, I kept score at the Connie Mack field for a couple of summers. Our parents hosted well chaparoned semi-formal dances for us - presumably to teach us the social graces. The police were a little more leinient back then. I got pulled over with a case of beer, but all Officer Fry did was make me pour each and every one out on the ground. He didn't take me home or tell my parents. It took almost an hour to find someone else to pull for me. And by the time I was 17, I could drive thru Sunset package and buy my own beer. $1.25 a six pack and $5.00 a case. And I drank Schlitz (ick). We could go to good dances, at the Elks. When I got caught racing on the Hobbs highway, in my 62 Impala w/ my 8 cylinder 454 engine, They did bring me home. Daddy was a little ticked and went and traded the Impala for a Volkswagon. And it's top speed was 90 floored. Looking back, he probably saved my life. We went to church on Sunday's, did our work in school - mostly, kept involved in Camp Fire and Boy Scouts and Student council. We partied at the sanddunes, and the Cottonwoods. We thought we were so cool. But really we were the ones that were clueless; we were always trying to be older than we were., always reaching ahead for that golden ring. I got kicked out of the Stevens bar by Ray and Jerry's by Art. Art would just say, "You can go, or I can call Voncile" It was kind of a bummer having parents that everyone knew. I was sure that all the rules were just a conspiracy to keep me from having fun. Actually, we lived in fairly safe times, and a community of caring people who cared enough to let your parents know when you were acting up. Kids today would be lucky to have "all of our problems." I have been careful not to mention the names of my coconspirators, but they know who they are. I can look back on this birthday and realize that bad and good, I have had a full life. I have many happy, joyful memories. There are many wonderful people who played various roles in my life, teachers, Camp Fire leaders, church youth groups, neighbors and friends. Life went on and we became the adults. Raising our kids, going to work, teaching school, and all the rest. It has been an amazing journey. I had the perfect childhood - no matter how bad I tried to mess it up. And I wouldn't trade any of it for all the money in the world.

Taking the Elderly Hostage

The recent Debt Ceiling disaster in Congress made me wonder if the people we have elected to Congress could actually pass a basic 8th grade Civics test. We do not send people to Congress to hold senior citizens hostage. We send people to Congress to govern, political agendas aside. The function of Congress is simple; they are to distribute the revenues which are raised by the taxes they create.
My son’s grandmother lives on her $1010 a month Social Security check. She lives in subsidized senior housing. If she didn’t get her check, she wouldn’t be able to pay her rent. Yes, maybe she wouldn’t be in this situation if she had saved more when she was working. But like many elderly women today, she lived during the time that the man was the breadwinner, and women stayed home and were housewives and mothers. When she was widowed, she went to work. Then when she was 62, she chose to take the Social Security that her husband had earned.
The debt ceiling crisis frightened her. She has trouble making ends meet as it is, even with some help from her family. She and other seniors living in the housing complex were extremely worried as this debate was broadcast on the nightly news. And most of them did not understand the debate other than there was the possibility that they might not be getting their check on August 3rd. They were just scared.
There are many points of the Tea Party agenda with which I agree. I am a proponent of tax reform. I believe that government spending is out of control and money is spent on the wrong priorities. I believe in a balanced budget. But I don’t believe in taking the elderly poor hostage to achieve these goals. Shame on those who do.

Equanimity

Equanimity is tricky.
It can fool most everyone.
You wear it like a costume.
Evenness of temperament,
Sunglasses and a pleasant smile,
Makeup and a nod,
A slapdash shot at manners . . .
If only you don’t forget.
From the outside looking in,
It resembles courage
To those who only glance
As they pass by.
“Isn’t she brave?”
But all the while, inside,
Secretly, you’re boiling,
Yet, you are freezing still.
And you make certain
That no one hears
Your midnight scream.
It looms larger than loneliness,
And deeper than the fear of dying.
Your constant companion:
Hidden, swallowed grief.

Pearls of Wisdom

This poetry thing is not working today.
I’m trying much too hard,
And agonizing over adjectives.
My metaphors are dusty,
My alliteration rusty.
I can’t seem to invoke the Bard.
Every word is like a grain of sand.
Pearls of Wisdom should be grand.
Oysters are “seeded” they say,
And will force a perfect pearl.
The Muse must be sleeping today.
At the very least, she’s missed.
After such a rude intrusion,
The poor oysters must be pissed.

Imagine - In my Best Dorothy Parker Voice

Imagine, if you can, or will
Facebook . . .in an earlier time.
Would Papa Hemingway
Have announced his daily mood?
“I am........ morose.”
And would his circle of friends
Have included Gertrude Stein?
Could Scott Fitzgerald have written
his quintessential questioning novels, while
Checking his cell for messages from Zelda?
Would Emily have been more or less prolific
With a laptop and Internet access?
Would Poe have posted daily,
Or just lurked online
And drank his absinthe?
Well then, maybe . . .
I’ll have another glass
Of the Merlot.
And think about it for a while.