Paying a "revisit" to the over my dead body list~

I have spoken many times in the past few months of Peggy Miller's "over my dead body list" ~ a compilation of things that, no matter what, I would never part with before I'm gone from this life.  The list is perhaps lengthier than I would like it to be and in my continued efforts to "travel light" from now on, I suppose the time will come in the future when I will have to relinquish a few of them.  But for now in this, the near autumn of my 57th year, the list remains firmly in place.  Those things upon it are not going anywhere, anytime soon!

At this juncture in time I'd gladly give up my television but don't even dream of asking me if I'd part with my decades old collection of 33 1/3 record albums from the '70s. I may not have the ability to play Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young's album "Deja Vu" but at LEAST I know that it's there and by the worn appearance of the album cover, I know that I've listened to it more than a couple of times.  I don't mind a bit if I don't have the latest of today's technology but I would really have a problem with getting rid of the over 50-year old Easter egg that I dyed at my Grandmother's house when I was only 6.   It would only take a moment and the "right" person to come along  in order for me to part with all of the pieces of cut glass that I have collected over the years but if you think I would, for one minute, part company with the 100-year old trophy shown below, well you would have another thing coming.

When I was a little kid, I spent many weekends at my Grandmother Brown's house at 215 Locust Street in Halstead, Kansas.  Man, those were happy days filled with laughter and  homemade gingersnap cookies.  We were showed how to have fun, "sans" technology, by a  grandmother who took the role of mentoring quite seriously. She was a "mentor" long before it became the oft-used term it is today.   From teaching my little sister and I how to grow a "garbage garden" to enlightening us as to what it was like to grow up in what was THEN called the "good old days", Catherine Schilling Brown fulfilled her calling to her 12 grandkids.  And when she died in the winter of her 106th year, I missed her kind and loving  presence greatly.

At "grandma's house" kids were allowed to be kids and sometimes being such meant that you often got into places where you probably shouldn't have been. She had all kinds of neat and interesting things tucked away into that 8-room bungalow style house of hers. It seemed as though every room was filled with hidden treasures, the kind that would make a kid curious enough to investigate, often without permission.   But if you suddenly found yourself "busted" by snooping around in one of her closets or drawers, you needn't have feared asking the question "Grandma what is this?  Where did it come from?"  With a smile on her face, she always provided us an answer.

That's what happened the day that I was curious about finding a trophy in a box in the hallway.  I was even brave enough to pull it out and take it to her in the kitchen and that's when I learned of its message.   And it was on that day, that my grandmother "planted the seed" for an idea that would find its way to fruition nearly 50 years later.

We sat at the kitchen table, grandmother and I, and as she told me the story of the trophy I learned about 5 unique characters that in my family were always referred to as "The Brown Brothers".  Their photo is shown below.

Now that cute little guy in the corner is Andrew and in the years to come he would grow up to be my granddad.  The other four guys, William~Ephraim~Luther~Elmer, are his older brothers.  They were all just old bachelors who decided that for better or worse, they were just going to stick together all of their lives.  Except for my granddad, the other four never found women who they thought could put up with them ;) When my grandparents married in 1911, they bought a huge house and all of them lived together and strange as it might have seemed, it worked out just fine.  Grandmother did the cooking, washing and cleaning for them all and they were just one very big happy family.

The Brown Brothers were farmers and very shrewd businessmen.  They knew how to live frugally and made an excellent living off of the land.  Those boys were so good at it that 19 years later as the Great Depression hit the country, they felt little impact economically.  They had already been living the lifestyle that they needed to in order to survive and they just "rolled with it".

Their passions were many~they tended their orchard, farmed their acreage in wheat and corn, hunted, trapped and fished.  And oh yeah, about that trophy~they raised Morgan horses for sale to the U.S. Army at Ft. Riley, Kansas.  And it was in the year 1912, the premier year of the Kansas State Fair as we know of it today, that they decided to enter their very best one in the Morgan Horse Competition at the fair.  The trophy they won as the "best of show" was proof that those 5 men knew what they were doing.  100 years later in 2012, their great-niece and granddaughter remembers them and honours their memory.

I remember Grandmother remarking that day, now so very long ago, that the trophy might be worth something in the years ahead.  She knew that she wouldn't be around in 2012 but that perhaps I might be.  I remember her telling me to take it to the fair some day and see what would happen.  When she passed away in 1997, the trophy was packed into belongings that were given to my mom.  Before my mom passed away, 10 years later in 2007, she passed the trophy along to me.  Come Monday morning, I'll be taking it down to the fairgrounds to enter it into a special competition being offered this year for memorabilia from the first Kansas State Fair in 1912.  Who knows?  Maybe it will be the grand prize winner once again~To borrow the line from Publisher's Clearinghouse (and if any of the CEO's of that fine group are reading this and are concerned that I am infringing on their copyright, please feel free to contact me) "You can't win if you don't enter!"

Good night family and friends!  By the way, if you happen to be in our "neck of the woods" come beginning next Friday evening~be sure to visit our town of Hutchinson, Kansas and spend the day walking the grounds of the Kansas State Fair.  There is a plenty to see and do~you'll go home tired but it will be a "good" kind of tired.

~for to have a place to sit when I am gone~

Used to be that I'd sit at the dining room table as I typed these blog entries, and indeed, that's where the majority of the over 400 posts that I've made thus far have been written from.  But this day I am in the back bedroom, the room all of the grandkids STILL refer to as "grandma's bedroom".  Even though I bought my mom's home of 27 years, now over 7 years ago, it shall forever be her house and you know, it doesn't bother me in the least.  I like to think of it in that way too.  And as I send these thoughts to the computer screen I have a perfect view of what my 8th bucket list item is soon to involve~"to redo my backyard and garden area to make it more user friendly to older people (that'd be me)".

This 8th item might prove to be the most challenging to me, in terms of time, money and the sweat equity that goes with it.  Oh yeah, and it's definitely going to require the most patience to accomplish and any of you who know Peggy Miller well enough will agree with me when I say that they may have to list my "cause of death" someday as ~"she died because she wasn't patient."  Redoing a backyard that is probably way too big for me to begin with is a formidable task and certainly one that is going to require some planning and movement in "baby steps" along the way. 

So, with an overall goal of having things finished by the time gardening season rolls around next March or April, this weekend I have begun.  Little by little, project by project, I'm going to be trying to find "Peggy's backyard".  It's "hidden" back there somewhere and with luck I will find it.  And by the way, it's not like it's a horrible place to be already and I guess I could be perfectly content to keep it the way that it is.  But as I've grown older here, things are not so easy to take care of on my own.  I love to garden and can the produce that I harvest but "tilling the earth" and growing tasty veggies and fruits requires weeding and a LOT of it!  So I say to you all, in the summer of my 57th year, I don't want to get down on my hands and knees and pull weeds any more.  I want to put in raised beds that will allow me to continue gardening well into the years to come. 

And that's not all~there are trees I want to take out and trees I want to put back in.  Yeah, yeah, yeah I know...kind of like how some of us love to move furniture all around in the house and end up putting it back the very same place.  I want to plant flowers and other things that are perennial in nature, those that year after year will come back on their own.  I used to think it was too expensive to spend that kind of money on plants.  Now I know that they pay for themselves in the long run.  For all of these things and a bazillion more, I'm glad to be working on bucket list item #8.  

The first phase of this bucket list item, from now until the end of September, will involve getting rid of things I no longer want or need in the backyard area.  In a couple of weeks, a local tree removal company is coming to take out one of the way overgrown elms that are in the backyard as well as completely cut back the lower hanging limbs of the other two.  I love the shade but now everything has become out of hand with them.  Removing the worst one will assure my garden area of getting about 100 percent more sunlight come next May and since I still plan to grow stuff, that's a plus for me.  I'm working within a budget back there and I had already set my limits as to what I would spend before I got finished.  The tree removal, a very necessary evil, will eat up 25% of my funds in less than a 24-hour time period, but that's ok.  I know how to "tighten my belt" and I am assuring myself that it will work out fine.  

As I was going through the back yard this morning and taking inventory of the plants that had survived through the summer's drought, I saw the most beautiful sight in my chrysanthemum bed.  I posted a photo of it on Facebook this morning because I just couldn't believe what had happened to it.  The photo, shown below, tells the story of about a dozen plants that had endured about the worst summer of heat and dry conditions ever.  Just a couple of days ago, I had made up my mind they should just be pulled out to start all over again.  God sent the rain, over 3 and a half inches of it to our town yesterday and miraculously enough~they look wonderful.

Talk about a plant "resurrection" well, these guys did!  By mid-September, flowers of the most brilliant colors of red, orange, bronze, purple  and yellow will burst forth putting on a "show" until nearly the frost returns.  And to think, I almost gave up on them.  I don't know for sure, but I think there's probably a lesson in there somewhere.  Shoot, better just rephrase that....there IS a lesson to be learned in that about life and about ourselves as well.

And oh yeah, that "place to sit when I am gone"...ok, friends this is probably a "TMI" moment so if you are not inclined to enjoy reading those kinds of things...this would be a good place to stop.  But for those of you who are reading on, let me explain.

I love limestone and because it is a "natural, not man-made" substance, I tend to use a lot of it in my backyard.  From edging flower beds all the way to making a small patio of it, I've got it all over the place back there.  A couple of years ago, I went to our local nursery and spent $100 to get the huge slab of limestone, plus two blocks to rest it upon, shown in the photo above.  I wanted to make a "resting place" that I could use as I worked in the back.  It provided a peaceful spot, for the most part, as I enjoyed being outdoors.

Shortly after purchasing the materials for my resting bench, I made the decision that I would be cremated when I died.  My kids had explicit instructions that they were to take my ashes out on some beautiful summer day and sprinkle them underneath a beautiful and mighty Kansas Cottonwood.  Only they had to do it on a day when the wind was blowing somewhat so they could hear the gentle "wooshing" sound that the cottonwood's leaves sing.  And if I should die before the summertime months were here, then someone would have to take care of me until the best moment returned.  Oh boy, I still remember the looks on their faces as they each shot the others a frantic glance that said "Hey no way~Mom's not staying with me!"  I told them not to worry, that it would be fine.  And if they wanted to remember me, just go sit on the bench in the back yard.  That's how we left it.

Now it would have all stayed just like that had it not been for a chance conversation with one of the truest friends I have ever had in this life.  Both he and I have had some interesting conversations about the merits of learning to swim, to NOT get a tattoo (LOL, sorry) and about the dispositions of our bodies when we die.  Without going into details, our exchange of thoughts on the idea of scattering cremains was very different, in fact it was totally opposite.  But the more I listened to his thoughts and reasoning I became convinced that asking my kids to go and dump out my ashes next to the cottonwood tree of their choice was probably not in the best interests of all concerned.  So, I chose the next best option....

Some day into the future, perhaps next week or perhaps 40 years from now, someone is going to have to tote that bench over to Harvey County for me.  It is going to be a part of my grave stone when I am laid to rest next to my great-great grandmother, Rebecca Burch in a tiny little Quaker cemetery just north of the city of Halstead.  Instead of having to scatter my ashes, my children know to just place my urn in the ground and when they come to visit from time to time, they can have a seat on the bench and remember how it was that it came to be there.  

Well the sun is out and the day is actually beautiful here in south central Kansas.  I'm trading a lot of "daylight for dark" now,  so I have to head back outside and continue cleaning, pitching stuff in the trash, and dreaming of the backyard that is meant to be.  Have a beautiful day friends and family wherever you are in this world of ours.  I surely am glad to count you as my good friends!

The descendants of my great-great grandmother, Rebecca Keys Burch, on Flag Day of 2006.  We were there to witness the rededication of her grave by the local Daughters of the American Revolution.  Great-great Grandmother was the last living pensioner of a soldier of the Revolutionary War.  It was a wonderfully warm June 14th day and an opportunity to make a connection with a woman who had died nearly 125 years earlier.  I didn't fully understand my heritage until I became much older.  I respect and honor her memory.  Some day I will be laid to rest right beside her.  Can't think of a better "last spot on earth" to be.  

~because he knew it was the right thing to do

I love being a teacher for a whole lot of reasons!   Perhaps at the top of the list is because it's such a pleasure to see kids learn, not only academic lessons but "life's lessons" as well.  I have thought long and hard about telling you of a heart-warming experience I had at school yesterday.  I always try to be careful as I write about my students because, especially where kids are concerned, I never wish to identify them or to divulge too much information about them.  But after thinking about it and tossing and turning all night as I pretended to sleep, I decided to go ahead.  May your hearts be warmed as mine was as you read this.

I'm a Title I teacher of both reading and math here at school.  My job is that of an interventionist~I help those students who, for one reason or another, are struggling with a certain concept being taught.  For the most part, I see groups of students that are very small in number with 4 or 5 usually the maximum.  Occasionally, I see kids on a "one one one" basis and actually, I like those times about the best.  My groups are very "fluid" and that's a GOOD thing.  Thus, just because a student is in one of my math groups this month, doesn't mean that they will be there next month.  And oh yeah, I have to say this as well~ As a charter member of the "I hate math club-5th grade class 1965", I empathize with their struggles.  Math is not always easy and for that matter, sometimes reading can present a challenge.  Yet, at our school, the teachers and staff work together to do everything that we can to help our kids.  It's called "cooperative learning" and I sure "as the day is long" know that there is no way I could my job all alone.   That "village" it takes?  Well, you'll find it at our school.  From our teachers, principal and paras, custodial and kitchen staff, the secretaries, volunteers and basically everyone else in between, EVERY adult plays an important part in helping children to do their best at school each day.  

This week I am doing individual testing on students throughout the building, in particular right now, a test that shows their math "number sense".  The results of the test can provide lots of insight into what kids know and what they are still lacking.  The administration of it takes a bit of time but it is time well worth it.  The data received from it will help tremendously in placement of students into the individual classroom groups.  It was during the giving of such a test yesterday that I was a witness to the most beautiful thing that a kid can do and I am getting goose bumps right now as I type these words to you.

I won't mention his name, his teacher or even what grade he is in.  So as you read this blog post, then substitute in the name of any child you'd like to see this be the case for...your son or daughter, granddaughter or grandson, niece or nephew, or perhaps even the little kid down the block that you watch over without them even knowing it.  You've heard of  the "everyman" idea?  Well, what say we just call this "everykid" one?

It was at the beginning of the test, the part where I say "Ok, I am going to say a series of numbers that follow a pattern and I need you to give me the next 5 numbers that would follow.", when it happened.  He looked at me and asked the question, "Mrs. Miller, you and I are friends, right?"  And that's how it all started.  I could tell by the look on his face that he had "bigger fish to fry" than telling me that the next five numbers would be 290, 291, 292, 293 and 294.  Something was going on with him and he was about to fill me in on it.

In a sincere effort not to tell you the particulars of the conversation that followed, I'd like to just say this to you.  The problem that he was having, something weighing like a "ton of bricks" on his conscience was that he had not told the truth to another adult within the school yesterday and it was "eating away" at him, so much that he wanted to talk about it and so we did.

After I listened to him tell me what happened, I asked him why he told me about this.  Wouldn't it have been easier to just stay quiet about it?  I'll never forget what he responded back~"I don't feel good about what I did but I don't know what to do."  So we talked further and I asked him a couple of other things, like did he want to "make it right" and if so, how could he do it?  We came up with a plan and proceeded to follow through with it.  And the end result was that he found the adult he had lied to and set the record "straight".  He was willing to accept the consequences and I believe it was because he knew it was the right thing to do.

I can't recall when an incident at school regarding a student's behaviour has made such an impact upon me.  I have thought about this since it happened yesterday and this is what I believe to be true~I was an "eyewitness" to a young boy as he grew "up" 12 inches in height yesterday.  His act, of realizing he was in the wrong and that he had dang sure better tell someone about it, earned my utmost respect of him.  Before I let him leave my classroom, I looked him straight in the eyes, gave him a big hug, told him that I was so proud of him and that I loved him very much.

It's soon to be time to head out the door for another day of school.  We plan to learn a lot together, students and adults alike.  And of course the main focus for today will be academics but there are plenty of "life's lessons" to be learned that are every bit as important as knowing how to tell the "author's purpose" in writing a story or how many different ways you can show the value of a number.  Gotta tell you this friends, THIS teacher is so thankful to have been a part of one of THOSE teachable moments.  

Have a good day friends and family.  It's Wednesday, the 22nd day of August in the year 2012.  It's a great day to be alive so don't waste one moment of it!

I know the face would appear "angelic" LOL, but I'm sure that this little kid told her own fair share of "untruths" growing up.  

From the 2005-06 school year~my class of third graders at Avenue A.  These little people are now in their "teen" years and their teacher, well she's a little older too!  The best job I could have ever hoped for~TEACHING.

For when the times the ride seems awful rough~

I don't believe we could have asked for a better weekend of weather here in the Sunflower State.  At least for our part of Kansas, the temperatures were "picture perfect".  Reno County  was the recipient of some much needed  moisture mid-Saturday morning,  not a lot but even a tiny bit is welcomed here in the drought stricken Midwest.  The air already has that "tinge" of autumn in it~seems as though that crept in sometime within the past week or two without even so much as a "how do you do?"  Before you know it, we'll all be flipping over the calendar to find the month of September and summertime, with its unforgiving heat and lack of precipitation, will be only a memory.  

The pleasant weather lent itself to plenty of outdoor activity and proved to be most ideal for getting out on a bike.  I wish I could tell you that I rode a "century" each day and I COULD, but that would be lying!  As a matter of fact, I found myself having the worst attitude I believe I've ever had for getting on my bike and I very nearly didn't do it at all.  Believe me, I wasn't really scheduling it on my "to do list".  I would have stuck with my original "gonna be lazy about it" plan had it not been for reading what one of my friends posted to her page on Facebook.  Shelley Rodriguez, you don't know it but it was YOU that prompted me to get off of my lazy behind and get going.  

Shelley and I have been friends for some time now.  She was my riding partner, along with her husband Clint, for the Bike Across Kansas during the summer of 2011.  Shelley, a teacher for USD 308 just like me, is not only a cyclist but a runner as well.  While I have all the admiration for her in the world as a runner, there is NO way that I would ever try to take up that form of exercise.  I don't run ANYWHERE unless it would be on those occasions when it's a fast trip to the bathroom for one reason or another :)  Rest assured, Peggy Miller will never be on a "first name basis" with jogging attire or the Boston Marathon.  It just ain't happening friends.  LOL

Well, Saturday morning I was sitting there in my pjs, reading the Hutch News and thankful to not find myself listed on the obituary page.  In my head, I was making my plans for the day and trust me, for some weird reason riding my bike wasn't a part of "the plan".  I almost wondered if I was sick or coming down with "something".  Wasn't like me to not even consider going.  Then, I happened to log on Facebook and it was there that I saw Shelley's greeting...she had just come back from running 9 miles.... Her words "stung" a little bit and I realized what she had already done for the day while I was sitting around trying to decide what to do in the first place.  I was inspired by her ambition and decided, what the heck?  If Shelley could run 9 miles and feel good when it was over then I SURELY could get my unambitious carcass out the door and on my bike.  And friends, that's just what I did.

I think for the first time in my whole life, I hated riding a bike on Saturday morning.  I had a million excuses in my bike bag as to why it was a horrible idea to be doing it yesterday morning~the sky was cloudy, there was a chance of rain, I wasn't sure if my tires were aired up enough, I was already running late...and a thousand more pathetic reasons why I was trying to talk myself out of going.  Thankfully, MOST thankfully, none of them worked.  By the time I was 4 miles into the ride, I knew it was way too late to turn back.  So up the path I went because my "new plan" for the day was to ride the same amount of miles on my bike that Shelley had run that day.  And I was determined, I mean REALLY  determined to not stop until I had.  

By the time I got to the end of the path and realized that I was only a couple of miles from home, I began to feel better.  My legs didn't ache, my mind was clearer, heart beating faster and breathing pretty deeply.  But I was alive and doing it and that's all that mattered.  And when I got back home to 14th Street, I had gone 11.5 miles.  

This morning I decided that if I could survive yesterday then I dang sure could make it once more today.  A few things were different than yesterday though, my attitude being at the top of the "what's so different about today list?".  I was ready and even rolled out of bed early with the thought of repeating yesterday's ride only  this time it would be with a more positive way of thinking.  But the moment I stepped outside the door, I found out a huge difference from yesterday morning, one that even "topped" my change in stinky attitude...it was cold out there!  The temperature sat at 59 degrees, not a horrible place, but when it was coupled with winds out of the north, north west at up to 20 mph, well you begin to get the picture.  I decided to head south first, going towards South Hutch and then make a u-turn and head back home once I crossed the Frank Hart Crossing.  My "old faithful" sweatshirt, identifying me as an alumni of the class of '73, Haven High School, sure felt good on my arms and upper body.  I can't remember the last time I needed a sweatshirt in order to ride.

You know, since my accident in August last year, I've done a lot of talking with God as I pedal down the road.  I never leave my house now without uttering a prayer of safety to Him as I cycle along.  I always end it the same way, "Let's do it God, it's just you and me now.", and off I go.  Only this morning, our conversation carried along for a couple of blocks more and it went something like this.....

Me:  (as the north wind blew me south along Main Street) "You know God, somehow something tells me that THIS is going to be the only enjoyable part of this ride today."

God:  (always listening and I'm sure smiling at me)

Me:  "But I can do it as long as you stay with me.  Let's go."

Five miles into the south wind was one of those proverbial "breezes".  Five miles back home straight into the north wind was a real pain in the behind.  Only I'm afraid that my "sailor talk" took over along the way and I may have accidentally referred to it as something different.   I'm working on that, trying to do better.  It was rough and there were a couple of times that I thought about phoning someone, saying "come get me!" but it was 7:00 on a Sunday morning and I don't think anyone would have been too thrilled to hop out of bed to come bail me out.  So I "sucked it up" and just went on.  I've had rides that were much more fun, no kidding!

For the next what seemed to be an hour when in reality was only about 30 minutes, I pushed on towards home.  I was definitely feeling the effects of being out of shape and most certainly had forgotten what it was like to ride into a cold north wind.  There was nothing to do but just keep going but while I was doing so, I thought about a lot of things in life that seem to be pretty tough these days.

I thought I had it bad going head first into that Kansas wind but I don't think I have it near as trying as the families of two friends that  I have who are dying of cancer at the local hospice house.  "Old lefty" was aching from the cold and the stress of riding but just a couple of days ago I passed a man at our local Dillons' who not only had NO left arm but had a tank of oxygen attached to his wheelchair.  My bike chain was "crying" out for some type of lubrication so that it could do its job more efficiently yet many families I know do not even have a vehicle that runs to transport their children to school each day.  And for all of the belly aching that I do sometimes about not having the time to ride much any more now that it's back to work for me, there are an equal amount of folks here in Reno County who would be glad to have a job to go to, even two of them.  You know it kind of puts things in their proper perspective.  LIFE'S ride gets a little rough too.

Well, it's day's end now and time to call it a night soon.  Oh dear friends, I think of you all in different ways throughout  the day.  You may not know it, but prayers are uttered up on your behalf by me. Actually, come to think of it, sometimes I wish that Facebook was just like the Walton's used to be...and you little kids that are trying to figure out what in the heck I'm talking about...well, that's a grown up question.  Find one and they'll explain it to you.  :)   So for now, just suffice it to say...

Good night Dennis,  Good night Anita,  Good night Craig,  Good night Mike,  Good night Joyce,  Good night Shelley, Good night Brian, Good night Heather, Good night LeRoy and Anne, Good ni zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

My good friend, teaching cohort, and Bicycling Across Kansas buddy~Shelley Rodriguez.  This was our very first ride together in preparing for the BAK last summer.  It was colder than the dickens and I'm not kidding!  But we made it and we did it TOGETHER.  Shelley I am proud of you for taking up running and equally proud of our good friend Melissa for doing so as well.  We girls are not going to "rust out".
  

"Bucket List Item #4"~to connect

Of all the items on the Miller Bucket List, Item # 4 "to connect with each of my Facebook friends in person, buy them something to drink and talk about life for awhile" has been perhaps the most rewarding yet challenging one for me to accomplish.  I received an email recently from someone who had read my bucket list and wondered what made me decide to come up with THAT idea!  Since I haven't taken the time to answer their message yet, I thought I would go ahead to do it in this blog post.  And by the way, I thank them for asking me about it~glad to explain my reasoning.

I became a Facebook member in 2007 and was totally a "novice" at setting up my page.  I knew NOTHING about what it involved but at the insistence of some close friends and family, I decided "oh, what the heck?" and I became a part of this "new fangled" thing they call the social media.  I immediately began the task of acquiring "friends" because I figured wow, what was the use of being on Facebook if you had no one to interact with?  I'll be the first to admit my envy of other folks who had long before me established themselves online.  They had friends, and LOTS of them!  So I set about the task of sending requests for friends and gladly accepting those who wanted to "friend" me.

Things seemed to go "ok" and it wasn't long until I had acquired nearly 75 friends.  Some how or another, I was determined to make to the "100 friends" mark before 6 months period of time was up.  And sure enough, a couple of weeks before my 6 month "anniversary" of joining Facebook "Friend Request #100" was answered!  For as happy as I thought it might make me, all of a sudden I felt a strange sense of emptiness because for the life of me, I can't EVEN tell you which one of my online friends was #100.  That sobering thought made me realize that I'd lost sight of what was really important for me.  I didn't want to accept friend requests just so my overall number would look wonderful.  I wanted to accept and extend friend requests in order to build relationships with others around me.  And I couldn't build relationships without meeting those folks halfway, and not online either, but rather I would have to meet them "in person".

So last year, in the early spring, I began the process of inviting Facebook friends for something to drink wherever they could meet me.  The teens working behind the counter at Bogey's here in Hutch began to know exactly what I was doing when I would meet people at their establishment, not even a mile from my home.  I still remember the day I heard one of the young girls say to the one next to her, "Looks like she's working on her bucket list AGAIN!"  I have hauled drinks to my friends' work, home or school.  I've even driven as far away as Osceola, Iowa and Oklahoma City, Oklahoma to meet Facebook friends that I have  known only online. I've had to get a little "creative" in my methods yet slowly but surely I am making the attempt.

A huge blue scrapbook at my house here in Hutch contains the photos that I've taken of all the folks I've had the chance to meet and visit with in the past 18 months.  As I take the time to browse through pages that have already been filled, I remember the very happy moments that are reflected in the smiles of the people once photographed and I gotta say how much fun it truly has been.  From the crazy "teens" of the 1970's who enjoyed their breakfast together at the IHOP to the "reunions" with former students of mine and every other time in between, "Bucket List Item #4" has afforded me the privilege of connecting with people who mean so much to me.  And hey, by my count I am not done yet!

I have been surely so blessed to have the friends I do in this life and if you are reading this, then you are one of them.  All of us, you guys included, need the friendships of others.  As I have grown older and a LITTLE wiser, I've found out the very many different kinds of friends we can end up having.  There are those folks we "befriend" at work, you know, the ones that for better or worse, you spend most of your waking day with?   We have friends from the neighbourhood or ones from church who offer a different perspective to our lives.  Can't forget those friends from long ago, our childhood days, who we may have lost contact with at one time or another but "thanks" to the days of Facebook and other online sites, we have become reacquainted with.  The list goes on and on.

And having mentioned Facebook, a thought or two here.  I have heard many times about how "bad" Facebook has been perceived to be by some folks.  There are complaints of the "drama" that goes on there and of course, how much time it seems to "suck out" of life each day.  My experience with Facebook has been nothing but positive and without becoming a member of it, now 5 years ago, I would not have been able to reconnect with so very many friends that I knew from the "land of long ago and so very, very far away"~my hometown of Haven, Kansas.  To catch up with, to hear about the lives of those people so dear to me 40 years ago as a teen growing up there has meant so very much to me.  It makes me smile to see the posts, somewhat unique, from my dear red-headed friend Dennis Ulrey and I know when my good friend, Craig Sailsbury, mentions the fact that I'm still kinda short, well he's doing it because we're friends that go way back.  I'm sure that many of you have had the same experiences and you know what? To me, it seems pretty dang nice.

And, a blessing to me, the truest friend that I think I've ever had, I ended up meeting on Facebook.  He's the one who held my "feet to the fire" and told me that I needed to learn how to swim well enough to save my own life some day.  He told me to forget about getting a tattoo (yeah, I know) and save my money to vacation in Florida or something.  Because of his insistence, I relinquished my lifelong fear of the water.  He encouraged me all the way as "old lefty" went through the 8-month recuperation period following my accident last year and gave me a proverbial "kick in the seat of the pants" at those times when I needed it the most.  Can't ask for much better friendship than that.  To him, I am beholden.

Well, it's that time again~in a couple of hours I'll be enjoying the company of about 230 or so kids at the best job anyone can have~going to school. I definitely have to get a "move on" here.  Enjoy this Friday, August 17th in the year 2012, truly a great day to be alive in.  Don't lose sight of it!

              Getting the chance to "connect" for a moment in time with 3 of my Facebook friends~

Thanks Theresa Brown, Kristy Farley, and Kyle Duncan for being my friend.  So glad to know you!  Theresa and Kristy are teaching cohorts of mine from here at USD 308, Hutchinson.  Fine women to work with and they always have a wealth of good ideas that they are willing to share with me or anyone else that asks them.  Kyle, well Kyle likes snakes and I recently spent an hour in OKC with him learning that I don't have to be near as scared of them as I once was.  You 3 guys are the best!

Upon reaching the first day of school~

You know, it was only a big fat blue pencil, freshly sharpened by my daddy.  The eraser was pristine, no mistakes had yet been made to make it any different.  Probably, even by the economic standards of September of 1960, it hadn't cost my parents more than a few pennies.  But in the hands of a little kindergarten girl named Peggy, it was a treasure to behold.  And it only took me 5 minutes of playing with it when I should have been listening to my teacher, to have it taken away from me on the very first day of school.  52 years later, that little kid still remembers and smiles at the memory.

As an educator, now for 35 years, I have had the privilege to see many "first days of school" come and go.  In as much as I say always that it seems the education system keeps changing every single year, (heck sometimes every single week!)  there are still so many things that stay the same.  That excitement, the nervous expectation on the part of children, parents, and teachers alike is one of those things that will always be a constant.

We are still two days away from our official first day of school here in Hutchinson, Kansas~USD 308.  But for days now, teachers and staff have been very busy readying the classrooms as we anticipate the arrival, now in a little over 48 hours, of our "kids".   My fellow teaching cohorts at Lincoln Elementary have been busy all summer, either taking classes or preparing their rooms at school for this, the 2012-2013 year.  And it's not just at Lincoln that this happens or all over Hutch for that matter.  Whether it's in the "heart of the nation", on an Indian reservation in the desert south west, in the inner city schools of Chicago or Philadelphia, or the kitchen table of the "home school" setting, teachers are getting ready and their students are doing so as well.  I'm grateful to still be a part of it.

Actually I kind of knew better, but I made the unfortunate decision to journey to Wal Mart over the weekend to pick up some things needed here at home. I had forgotten that perhaps 75% of Reno County would also be there at the same time and most of those customers would be frequenting the school section aisles of the store.  It was "wall to wall" with carts that were filled to the brims with notebooks, crayolas, pens and pencils, Sharpies, folders, scissors and glue, and a thousand other things that kids thought sure they would need to have a successful school year.  Even though I hate shopping with crowds of folks around me, all of us "jockeying" for the shortest check out line, it was fun to see the smiles on the faces of the kids as they held different items in their little hands, trying to decide which ones suited them best.  Kind of put a lump in my throat to think of the 3 little children that I once bought school supplies for, now so very many years ago.

Back in the "dark ages" when I was a kid, things were sure different.  We were farm kids and I have few memories of ever going shopping with my parents for school supplies.  With seven kids in  our family, I'm sure they must have made the trip alone to Dennis' Variety Store in down town Halstead, Kansas to purchase what they believed we would need.  Where kids nowadays need a huge backpack to carry their supplies for school in, I'm thinking that all of ours fit in a tiny little cigar style box.  After all, back in those times a pencil or two, a pair of scissors, 8 crayolas and a bottle of glue would take you a long ways, or at least you could hope! Not only did we know what "hand me down" school clothes were like in our family, we also knew what "hand me down" school supplies were like too.  And oh yeah,  no cute boxes of Kleenex were needed for each kid in the 1960's~when you needed to blow your nose at school, you just went into the bathroom and used toilet paper, just like you would at home :)  I guess you could say that things have kind of changed.

Children today are being taught to read and comprehend what the printed material means to them by teachers who have received the latest of training in strategies that will help students become more successful in school.  We are blessed today, in 2012,  to have a wealth of materials, training and support, and the technology that accompanies it in order to ensure that not only are students  able to read, but are able to read well.  Back in "the day", kids like me learned to read from our friends "Jack and Janet", "Tip and Mitten" and "Dick, Jane and Sally".  My teachers at Burrton and Haven Grade Schools didn't have any special training, no one sent them to inservice on a monthly basis.  They did their level best, with love in their hearts for students, and my generation learned to read any ways.  Not saying by any means that I would love for us to go back to that time in education but the memories of holding that "first book" in my hands and knowing that inside of it was the key to my future, STILL sends chills up my spine.  Learning is learning, no matter it be 52 years ago, or right now.  

Well, the clock is "ticking" in more ways than one and I've got to get myself ready to get out the door.  Much to be done as we finish up and get ourselves ready for the first day of school this week, Wednesday the 15th of August.  And oh, by the way....the deal about that big fat blue pencil that I promptly "lost" on the first day of kindergarten now so very long ago.  Really, I was only rolling it back and forth with my new best friend Shirley Ann.  We were listening to our teacher, I promise!  Those two "little girls" were only doing what they would refer to in the future as "multi-tasking"~paying attention AND having fun at the same time.  Unfortunately our teacher, a most beautiful and wonderful woman named Jo Marmont, didn't quite see things that way.  I can still see her beautiful shiny red fingernails, smell the sweet cologne that she always wore and in my heart remember the love that she had for all of us kids.  She's one of the reasons I became the teacher that I am today.  Have a good day everyone out there!  Enjoy life, enjoy the reason we are even here.

Josephine Marmont and the kindergarten kids of Burrton Grade School for the 1960-61 school year.  She loved us all~we were HER kids!  I didn't realize it at the time, but now I surely do so see that.  Little Peggy Ann Scott, front row (of COURSE), far right.   Her hand was holding on to my collar.  She must have really loved me cause I don't think she would be doing that because I was wiggling around too much :)

Miss Marmont taught me to read and to love a good book.  Once a "book worm" always a book worm.  This is a picture taken 11 years later in 1971 on the day that a "human chain" was formed to send books from the old Haven High School building to the brand new one.  I was the "shelving girl" that day!

So God had ANOTHER plan~

Good morning friends and family out there!  It's 4:48 in the "old" a.m. as I type this blog post today.  This morning I actually had to get up when the first alarm went off at 4:15 and not just hit the snooze and keep on dreaming.  It's "back to work" day for me and a whole lot of other employees for USD 308 here in Hutchinson.  And for a woman who thought she had "retired" 2 years ago, well I guess that's just about as good of evidence as any that someone else way greater than I would ever profess to be, is in charge of my life.  

I will never forget my birthday on October 26, 2009~the fall of my 54th year.  When I woke up that day I did so with the knowledge that I was getting to turn in my letter of retirement to the district.  I woke up even earlier on that day, if that's possible!  I waited outside the 5th Street Dillons' store here in Hutch to buy 2 dozen glazed donuts and deliver them to my friends and co-workers at Avenue A Elementary to enjoy for their mid-morning snack at school.  I was taking a personal day off from teaching.  Just as soon as the district office opened up, I'd made the plan to turn in my letter and then I'd be off to enjoy the day and get a "sneak peek" at what this thing that they called ~being retired~was really all about.

It looks dark outside because well, it still WAS!  I wasn't going to let any "grass grow under my feet" that day.  Thankfully my good friend and co-worker, Jerrine Bonham liked to get to school early too!  She was there to take my official "I am going to turn in my retirement letter today!" photo for me.

I spent the remainder of that school year making lots of memories that I would store in my "teacher's heart" forever.  I had visions of keeping a scrapbook that I'd sooner or later (hopefully MUCH later) haul with me to whatever long-term care facility I might live my remaining years at.  And when people came to visit me, I'd reach down alongside my recliner and pull it out to show all of the kids that I taught in my 32nd and LAST year of teaching.  The photos below show some of the memories I captured that final (LOL) year~

Ok, Ok, Ok....I've never been known for having a neat and tidy desk!  Organization can be highly over-rated.  Just ask anyone....  :) Fall of 2009

One of my very favorite photos that I have from that final year.  These 5 guys all have the same first name~Luis.  I thought it would be fun to have my picture taken with them.  When the photo was done, I sent them all back to class.  I was holding the littlest one (Luis from pre-k).  As we left to go back, I said to him "Come on Luis, let's get you back to your teacher."  I looked back and the other four were following me as well.  January of 2010

My brief "stint" as the tour guide for the mouth.  Couldn't really explain this one if you asked me to.  My dear friend and counselor at Avenue A, Chris Mason, got the really good job but I guess not everyone is called to be the "pathway to life".  :)  September of 2009

My heart is always warmed by the "wide-eyed" wonder of little children as they learn.  Their innocence is very special.  Here Mrs. King's little pre-k kids are watching the miracle of the birth of baby chicks.  God bless those littlest of kids, out of the "womb" for only 4 years and well on their way to learning about life.  Spring of 2010

I was afforded the privilege of working with a fine staff at Avenue A, a staff that always banded together for whatever cause might be at hand.  These 4 ladies were a tremendous help that "last spring" as we held a garage sale at school for a student who was dying of cancer.  Couldn't ask for better folks to have been with that year.  Gals, you are STILL my very good friends.

Perhaps one of the nicest "gifts" a teacher could receive upon retirement.  This is a former student of mine who looked me up at school on my last day to wish me well in retirement and thank me for what I had done as his teacher.  One of my very first students EVER, Mike Fazio.  He was part of a group of 4 students assigned to me during my very first year of teaching 8th grade math.   Yeah, yeah, yeah I know...ME teaching math?  I made it and so did they :)  To Amy, Mike, Marschell and John....they made me the teacher I became.  

Well, it's about time to get going all.  Not quite 5:30 and in a couple of hours it will be time to head on down to the Salthawk Activity Center for our first meeting of the year.  Since they frown on us showing up in pj's, guess it's time to get serious here!  I never dreamt, not even in my wildest dreams, that I would return to teaching after retiring in 2010.  That decision, in and of itself, is a WHOLE another story that should be saved for a different time.  

So today, August 8th of 2012 I will walk out the door to begin my 35th year as an educator.  It was definitely not in my plans but as I well know, my plans aren't always the way things work out.  I figure there must have been a reason, a student or two, perhaps even an adult or two who might have needed me to be there.  With faith, I'm returning. 

 You have heard me say time and time again that being a teacher is not a lucrative career as far as money is concerned.  I'm never going to have a huge bank account, no chance of me ever having to decide which island to vacation on in the summertime.  I still watch my pennies every month and make decisions on a daily basis as to what's the most needed thing I have to purchase.  Financially, just like you all, I have to be careful.  But I tell you this~teaching is a noble and good profession.  My monthly pay check may not reflect it, but Peggy Miller is one rich woman.  For every child-made card in my memory box, for any kid that has come back to me later in life and said "thank you for teaching me", for the parents and grandparents who say to any teacher "thank you for helping us, we needed you!", well I guess those are about the biggest bonus checks anyone could ask for.  I've been blessed~

Have a great day my friends and family, August 8, 2012, a great day to be alive in!  And if you could read this message, then a teacher taught you something!  Please find one today and say "thank you."

           My last group of ESL students to teach before I retired.  I loved them all!

The Truth Be Told~

Yesterday was one of those days that will go down in "the history books of Peggy Miller's life" as the day that I did the unimaginable, the unbelievable, the unforgettable.  In the summer of my 57th year, I willingly touched a snake for the very first time.  Heck, I didn't just TOUCH one, I HELD one in my lap, kind of/sort of.  And here's the miraculous thing, I'm still alive!  

I've always been scared of those slithering members of the reptilian family.  Never had any use for them, none whatsoever.  As a farm kid growing up, our family lived by the motto "the only good snake is a dead snake".  I watched a big fat bull snake become even bigger and fatter one summer day as he systematically ate nearly ALL of our little baby chicks one by one.  Since that day, I pretty much vowed that any snake I came across would soon become a "dead one".  But after yesterday, well I am starting to think somewhat differently.

I made the 160 mile journey this past weekend to Oklahoma City to meet my Facebook friend, Kyle Duncan.  Kyle and I have been friends on Facebook for sometime now but we have never met, that is before yesterday.  One of the interesting things that I learned right away about him was his interest in breeding snakes, in particular pythons.  Of course for me, "snake hater" that I have always been, I could hardly imagine anyone wanting a hobby like the breeding of snakes.  Quite honestly, I thought he was crazy!  

As time went on, I continued to read his posts on Facebook and look at the photos he took of his "hobby" and realized that hey, this guy might "have something" here.  Could snakes perhaps not be nearly as bad as I had thought they were?  Did they really serve some kind of useful purpose in this life?  Had I been misinformed all along?  The only way I knew to find out was to go and meet this guy, this lover of snakes.  Turns out, it was the best thing I could have ever done.

Hey, meet Kyle Duncan, my new friend from Oklahoma City, Oklahoma~  He's quite a guy and it only took shaking his hand yesterday afternoon when we met to understand his sincerity, his deep desire to educate people about snakes.  One of the most educational and informative hours of time I have spent in a long, long time.  So glad that I went.

Suffice it to say that Kyle has been a lover of snakes for a long, long time.  And not only does he love snakes, he also loves to educate people about them as well.  When he learned of my extreme fear of them, Kyle invited me to come down to OKC from my home here in south central Kansas, to check things out for myself.  I have to admit that I was skeptical about it at first, but it only took a few moments of being there before I realized that maybe, JUST maybe I had been giving snakes a bad "rap".  I was soon to find out.

I learned so much about snakes in that short hour's time, more than I could share in one blog post. But perhaps the most important thing I came away with is this~Snakes have a place, a purpose in this world and without them, we "humans" would definitely see the difference.  I came away from Kyle's house actually curious to learn more about them.  So I headed online when I got back to Kansas to see what I could find out.  


I decided to learn more about my "arch enemy" Thamnophis sirtalis", the common garter snake. It didn't take long for me to figure out why I usually dig one up bare-handed as I work in the flower beds just adjacent to the east side of my house.  It seems as though every single spring planting season I have come across not just one but three or four of them huddled with one another.  I was always sure that they must have had a "snake family meeting" about February with the sole purpose of deciding which one of them would scare me the most.  And let me tell you, it ALWAYS worked.  So for those of you who, just like me, are riled up by "close encounters of the awful kind", here's probably the MOST important thing I learned and will always try to  remember~Those garter snakes are not going to hurt me, they have NO interest in attacking someone and devouring them for their lunch.  I don't have to kill them and IF they should surprise me like they always do, no amount of my panicking or yelling will make things better.  I need to just leave them alone and trust me, they won't hang around long at all.  Garter snakes have much "bigger fish to fry" than a crazy middle-aged schoolteacher from Kansas.


After yesterday's experience, am I still scared to death of snakes?  Really, not so much.  I'm not 100 percent cured of my fears but I do believe that I came a LONG ways yesterday in how I perceived them to be.  Standing alongside boxes containing some of the largest ball pythons I've ever seen was a giant step for this old "snake hater". To actually feel comfortable enough to even dare to touch one with a finger of my hand was unbelievable.  In my wildest dreams, I never imagined holding one my lap and allowing it to "snake" (LOL) its way up "old lefty".  But I did it! I will always have a healthy respect for snakes from now on.


 By the way Kyle~as I typed these words I realized just how great of a teacher you are.  Great educators inspire those that they teach to leave the classroom and learn more about things that they know little of.  Yesterday, your snake house was the arena for learning.  Wow, I didn't think of it in quite those terms yesterday. Thank you my good friend for helping me to realize what ignorance about something can do in this life.  I will probably never love snakes as much as you do, but I don't have to hate them either.  


Have a great day today, friends and family!  Even with all of the bad things that fill the paper and the broadcast media these days, the world is still filled with way more good than evil.  And hey, here's an idea....why not learn something new today?  Yeah, yeah, yeah I know it's the teacher in me.

                                       eggs that will be hatching out soon

                 holding my first snake~finding out they don't feel slimy at all!

                                               Kyle Duncan-snake guy extraordinaire

I was doing pretty good until it started working its way up my left arm.  Wasn't sure what I would do if it decided to look me straight in the eyes!  At least I didn't have any bad dreams about it last night.  

All things considered, again~

You know what?  This has been a good day for me.  Wasn't so sure how the day would go but I was determined to make it a great day and I succeeded.  Last year about this time I was just coming out of surgery, one that was only supposed to take 2 hours that ended up taking twice that long.  Me and my good friend "morphine" were getting along pretty well with one another.  In fact, for the better part of the two hours in the recovery room, I was sucking up that miracle drug as if I was enjoying a diet vanilla Pepsi from Bogey's.  My arm wasn't just hurting, it was REALLY hurting and every time that I moaned in pain, the wonderful recovery nurses would shoot some more in.  And gotta say, I've done my share of belly aching and complaining about the way things seem to go while a person is in the hospital, but for this day, one year ago, I am happy to say that I received the most excellent care imaginable.  I am mighty  beholden to them all, from the ER nurses who triaged me in, to Dr. Goin and his staff in the O.R., to the nurses and CNAs who took such good care of me and "old lefty".  My recovery began the moment my son Grahame drove me into the garage area of the Hutch Hospital emergency room.  That same recovery continues today and will continue to do so for sometime into the future.


Today, I feel like I can finally bring this whole chapter of life to a close, for the most part.  365 days seems like a long span of time but for me, the year has gone very quickly.  As I look at my left arm tonight, it's with a lot of thankfulness.  I think it's a miracle that I can sit here right now and type away on this keyboard as if nothing ever happened to it in this life.  That was one of the things I was so worried about when it all happened.  This typing "one-handed" stuff is for the birds  and even though I COULD do it, sure wasn't much fun.  


My "skin" has grown thicker and I no longer feel so upset when I think about the way "old lefty" will more than likely look from now on.  Most people don't say much about it, yet occasionally I meet someone who offers a comment or two.  Just yesterday, I ran into an old friend downtown who hadn't seen me since my arm was out of the cast.  We were just having a great visit when he looked at my arm and remarked of it.  And when he said, "Peggy, wow you're doing great although, man your arm looks a bit misshapen.  But you can live with that.", I didn't fall apart.  Ordinarily the fact that someone noticed how "old lefty" looks now, indeed quite misshapen, would have almost sent me to tears.  I guess the days that have gone by now have matured me and when I hear comments like that, I realize that people mean no harm by them.  My reply to my friend was, "Yep, it sure is.  But I can't send it back so I guess I gotta keep it."  No need to say anything else.


Back before my third surgery in December, I decided to get a tattoo to honour the memory of the person who donated, through his death, the bone material to repair my arm.  I put the date of my surgery, "Mo-to-Ks", and the Bible verse, John 15:13.  I wanted a visual reminder of the sacrifice someone made through their death in order that I could be healed.  On purpose, I didn't have the tattoo completely done that day.  I kept hoping that somehow or another I would find the name of the person who died and would use his name somehow in the tattoo.  Unfortunately all I ever learned was that he was a 45-year old man from the state of Missouri who more than likely died no more than a couple of years back.  So today, I did the next best thing and had the tattoo finished in his honour and memory.  


So sir, whoever you may have been, I thank you with my whole heart and will never forget what you did for me, a total stranger....a crazy schoolteacher from Kansas who thought she could jump a curb on her bike.  I know I will see you in Heaven some day and I will recognize you right away.  Until then, every chance I get, I will tell people your story.  Maybe they too will decide to donate their bone and organs when they leave this earth.   It could happen you know~it happened with you and me.


Tomorrow's a new day everyone...and I'm moving on.  I thank you for anything you may have done to help me in this past year's time to get better and back on a bike.  I pray some day that I might do the same to help you should you need it.  

Remembering "Eleanore"-a gift of life and healing~and from the "Good Book", John 15:13 which reads, "No greater love hath a man than this, that he would lay down his life for his friend."  Whoever he was, he left this earth with "eyes closed, but his heart was wide open".  I'm leaving the same way.


Good Night!

An Entire Year~

A good Thursday evening to you all~August 2, 2012! Friends, you know the saying, "time flies when you break your arm?"  What's that?  You don't?  Well, now you do :)   Very nearly a year ago  now,  I was heading out on my bike for a ride that would end up completely changing my life for the better.  An accident, freakish at best and stupid at most, would put my left arm in a cast of one sort or another, for the better part of 8 months.  I'm not sure that I would have written anything much about it today or even this weekend,  except for the fact that I was unpacking a box this morning and found the biking glove that I was wearing that day.  That sweat-stained, left-handed glove, now cut into two pieces, was a vivid reminder of what happened to me that day.  And as usual, it got my mind to thinking.


I began to think about, not what had happened as a result of having the accident, but rather how my life would have been different had that morning ride gone as originally planned.  How after riding ten miles I would have just ridden up the driveway at home and parked my bike on the porch.  Kind of like never even uttering the phrase "old lefty" or  being a frequent visitor to the Kansas Orthpaedic Center in Wichita, never receiving the gift of bone material from an unknown donor or anyone of a thousand other things that I ended up experiencing.  


If I hadn't crashed my bike that late summer morning last year,  I could have dressed my own self with ease~for crying out loud I'd been doing that quite nicely for about a half of a century !  I'd have been tying my own shoes, never had to teach school "one-handed", or relied on anyone else to type my blog posts for me.  There would have never been a "peanut butter sandwich making fiasco", no tattoo on my right leg honouring someone unknown to me who gave "old lefty" the gift of new bone.  So many things I would never have known had I not tried to jump that curb and subsequently landed on my sorry behind.  And now, as I type these words to you, I find myself a little confused.  Can something this bad really turn out for the "good"?  How on earth do I explain it to you so that it makes any sense at all?  


I have often said that busting my left arm to "smithereens" last August 4th was the very best thing that could have happened to me in life.  And you know what?  I mean it~without a doubt my life took a change for the better that day, at that very moment in time.  From the very instant that my front tire hit the curbing head-on and I flew off my bike and landed on my left side, life switched.  The moment I felt my arm go numb from my shoulder to my fingertips, it all suddenly became so different. In the hours, days, weeks, and months that followed I knew that I was in big trouble and that no "quick fix" was going to save me this time.  Gotta tell you that when the best orthopaedic surgeon in our town looks at you as you are in the ER and says, "Peggy, I don't know if I'll be able to fix you.  This is horrible.", well that's a pretty sobering experience.


If someone were to ask me what the greatest lesson that I have learned from all this was, I'd have little trouble giving them an answer.  And the answer is this.... I learned about courage.  Before saying anything else, I have to give credit to where it is really due and that would be to anyone that is reading this blog post right now.  I know that many of you, hey actually ALL of you, have to summon up your courage each and every day.  Heck, as far I'm concerned, it takes a lot of courage just to get out of bed in the morning and face the "unknown" that is ahead of us all.  Perhaps some of you are exhibiting courage as you face the prospects of losing a job, issues of poor health, concerns about your children and their well-being, or whether or not enough rain will come to save your dying crops and cattle.  And if not for these reasons, we could name a thousand more.  Every day, people that you know and those that you do not, have to call upon their courage and face life.  I truly stand in "awe" of you and wonder if I could do as well if I were having to deal with the very serious  issues that some of you do.  Even in my worst times, I have been blessed beyond measure and I thank God every day for the things that I DO NOT have.  Perhaps my friends, you feel the same.


You know I used to think that people who were courageous were those who had no fear of anything. They were the kind of people who could go into battle, scale the highest mountain peaks, or perform jobs that many of us would say "NO WAY" to.   But while I was recuperating I noticed a bumper sticker on the back of someone's car with this quote~"Courage is being scared to death of doing something but doing it any ways."  (sorry, don't know who to attribute that one too.)  It made sense to me as I read it and it really is true.


If I said that the experience that I went through taught me courage, then I would also have to say that I didn't do it all alone.  In the first excruciating hours, my "new best friend" morphine (and a WHOLE LOT of it) helped me to calm down, to be brave enough for the nurses, x-ray technicians and doctors to do what they needed to.  It was not my idea of fun, believe you me, brothers and sisters!  During the second surgery, when I was scared to pieces  about what Dr. Chan would have to do to help my arm, it was the blessing of a cadaver's bone material that helped me to continue onward in the recovery process.  My students at school provided the impetus for me to be courageous as they cheered me on one day while I was having a dickens of a time peeling off a stupid sticker from a sheet.  And it doesn't get much better than having a group of 5th graders watching me as I tried my best to "will" the thumb of my left-hand to  bend in even the slightest of movement only 8 weeks into the recovery time.  As tears of disappointment rolled down my face, it was their applause that gave me the courage to keep trying and sure enough, in its own time, my thumb finally bent a tiny bit.  These are just a few examples, there were many more.


Now just about 12 months later, I find myself looking back and realizing that it all turned out ok for me.  At first everything looked so dismal, as if there was NO way that it would ever get any better. But you know what, it did~Sometimes I needed a "kick in the seat of the pants" from my dear friend and occupational therapist, Kim Lockwood. Ok, ok friends, I DID get a little lazy! At times, it took a "frowny face" from my dear surgeon and friend, Dr. Prince Chan, to make me work even harder to get better. And I surely cannot forget my truest and best friend ever who did his part to encourage me to not give up just yet.  After all, he had been the one to tell me that I needed to learn to swim well enough to save my own life some day.  I had conquered my fears then and I could do it now....HE SAID SO. And when I found myself whining about the smallest of things and expressing my doubt that I would ever fully recover, it was my 3 children who let their mom know in no uncertain terms that I was wrong.  I WOULD get better!


I think the question that I have been asked the most about this was if I have ever ridden my bike since then.  The answer is "yes", now many times.  I remember well that fateful day in November, between surgeries 2 and 3 that I decided what the heck?  Give it a try.  With all of the courage that I could muster up, I put that foot in the right foot pedal and just pushed down.  And I've been riding ever since.  Am I worried about crashing again?  Perhaps a little~but I remain steadfast in  my attempt.  I am way more determined to get back to normal than I would ever be afraid of trying.  Have a great evening family and friends.  I love you all and wish only the best for you in this life.

My two favorite parts of my body-my right foot for its courage in leading the way back
 and "old lefty" for fighting back to become strong again.  God has been so good to me~

                                                                       moving on