Visiting Home: Jeannie, Gerry, and Jake

Life at Woodsong has been different this past week as a couple of our kids were in and out all week. Jeannie started the visits on the 8th. She had texted she might be down for a one-day visit if she could get her school work done enough to feel free to come. Next she said she was definitely coming, but she would have to attend a funeral at Johnston City during the brief time she was here. She did arrive that Saturday morning having stopped at motel on the way down. We had a good visit before she needed to leave for the funeral,

Come to find out, a very dear Freeport friend's mother had been on life support and had died upstate, but was being brought down state to be buried by her husband in one of our area cemeteries. Since Jeannie was already hoping to come down, that made it possible for her to attend the funeral.

After the funeral back at Woodsong, we continued catching up. I had been eager to hear about how she was adjusting to teaching art with kindergarten through fifth graders. I was afraid she would not enjoy working with younger kids, but I think she is enjoying the challenge. She teaches at two schools this year. One has a small art room; but at the other school, she has to teach from a cart in other teachers' classrooms. Now that is a challenge! Altogether she sees 500 students, so I do not know how she will be able to know her students very well. There is evidently sometimes another new art teacher co-teaching, but I did not understand how that works. I cannot imagine how one teaches from a cart going from room to room! Yet she does. She has been teaching already about lines and curves, and I saw some of the simple sculptures of colored paper strips made by students.

She had insisted she wanted to take us to dinner Saturday night, so we let her. That was very nice since there was no clean up--and then we came home for more visiting. Finally after her daddy went to bed, we ended up in the living room with Jeannie on the couch along with piles of small blue rectangles containing bolts. Lighting bolts, that is. Bolts on the blue flags. One of the two elementary schools she has shifted to from middle school are called Bolts—not bulldogs or cardinals or some ethnic group that would be criticized but Bolts! The kids would be walking in the high school Homecoming parade and waving their flags, and she was taping on crepe paper streamers before the kids taped on pencils to hold the flags to wave. Although Jeannie has never been a “Let's all do the same thing” kind of art teacher, there were lessons used with the flags. The difference between students' work was interesting. Some of the hand drawn bolts were quite clearly bolts and showed talent and/or neatness. Some few were almost blobs, and probably those children whose past had contained little manipulation of paper, scissors, and creating learned the most from the experience.

A couch full of art stuff was so typical of one of Jeannie's visits that I had to laugh. One pre-Christmas visit she was helping students create 1,000 cranes for decoration. Everyone at Woodsong was invited to join in that Origami project. I had never heard the Chinese/Japanese legend of their crane that lived a 1000 years and that making 1000 cranes would let a person's wish come true. From the 1700s until now, many people have found themselves trying to create 1000 paper birds. The cranes had life-long mates and came to stand for loyalty and faithfulness. They also have come to stand for world peace and healing and almost all good things. If you want to know more about the paper cranes, you might want to read Ari Beser's post “How Paper Cranes Became Symbols of Healing in Japan.”

We talked and talked as Jeannie taped the streamers on the flags, and it was much too late when we went to bed since she was leaving at 5:30 Sunday morning planning on stopping somewhere along the way to attend a worship service. Gerald, of course, was up at 5:30 and saw her off on her way upstate after the too-brief visit.

Soon our minds were focused on the coming visit of Gerry who was on his way from Texas. His bedroom was waiting for him; but it was actually already day time when he arrived on Monday after a two-hour sleep in the truck on his way here. (Yes, he did take a nap after arriving.) Bouncing around in our side yard were three adorable puppies--curly-headed black Boykin spaniels, which Gerry explained were the only hunting dog developed in he United States. He also had Vickie's Nelly because she was in heat, and also Jake, who used to live at Woodsong. One of the puppies was for Gerry's cousin DuWayne, who was good enough to keep all of them and also Nelly while Gerry traveled in and out of Woodsong. When DuWayne brought the Boykins back on Friday night and helped Gerry prepare for the trip back to Texas, he reported the grandkids there had a blast with these sweet good-natured puppies.

Jake stayed with us and acted as though he remembered everyone, and to my delight, he still ran with his little tail curled. (Unfortunately, he also still stayed at Gerald's feet making him have to slow down and watch out for tripping. So Jake went back to Texas after his visit home.)

Throughout the week, we had visiting time with Gerry—especially Gerald who was always helping when Gerry was here at the farm. Gerry was actually here on dog business, and I couldn't keep up with it all. There were bird dog deliveries or purchases at Atlanta and Birmingham and up near Chicago. And there were visits to Union County and with dog/hunting friends in Paulton and Hamilton County. Because his time schedule was so dependent on dogs and other people, Gerry insisted I not cook for him. However, as is typical of his visits, soon there was a plastic pail full of dove carcasses soaking in water in the garage fridge. Although he planned to run to town and get us barbecues, I think he liked it that I had already started frying the doves to go with biscuits and gravy for that supper. At least he bragged on it, and I felt I did a good job of seasoning everything.

Mary Ellen came over to see him when he wasn't here, so I had a good visit with her. And I even had a brief visit with our nephew Bryce.

When Gerry pulled out of the driveway Saturday morning in his pick-up followed by a trailer full of bird dogs, we recalled  those long-ago trips to Mexico for a season of hunting at his lodge. He delivered dogs and arrived home in time to rest up for his job at A&M.

The day after Gerry left, Gerald found the news release from the ScrapYard Dawgs announcing Gerry as head coach for the 2017 National Professional Fastpitch season. Guess this means we have one more team to follow next summer after the college softball season ends. Probably this is a good thing for us. Doctor, eye, hearing, and dental appointments are our major activities in this decade of life! If the kids had not come, that was all I would have had to write about!

Jeannie's On Her Way!

For many years, we counted on the Eilers coming for Easter, but that was not possible last year. And this year, Cecelie had an activity requiring them to stay be in Freeport on Sunday. Jeannie’s plans for them to come just for Saturday ended up being aborted, but she messaged that she hoped to come down during this week. Maybe Wednesday. So I unlocked the front door early this morning in case she arrived while at was at cardiac rehab this afternoon. At supper time, I learned she was as far down as Bloomington; now I hoping the rain does not delay her too much longer. It has been too long since we’ve seen her!

As always I enjoyed having four of our college grandkids coming and going all weekend. Trent from John A. Logan, Brianna from Murray State, Sam from Baylor, and Elijah from Chicago where he is student teaching and living at llinois State’s apartment for the student teachers. (My interactions with our fifth collegiate was on the computer watching Geri Ann playing the opening games at the beautiful new Jane Sanders Stadium at University of Oregon.) I also got to see Sam’s friend Anna a couple of times during the weekend. I love hearing the kids’ talk about their classes, their political opinions, and their plans for the future. I like knowing the washing machine is being used for college laundry again just as it was years ago when their parents were at the farm from school. I had to be impressed when one grandson made his own breakfast, washed up all his dishes, and while doing so, thoroughly cleaned my neglected stove top! Oh, and I learned about bubble tea, which they drove to Carbondale for. Unfortunately, all left to go their separate ways on Easter morning, and the house was silent again.

Meanwhile, Gerald and DuWayne had a rough time driving down to see Gerry and Texas A&M play softball at Georgia with a number of wrecks slowing their travel. Then because of rain threatening, it was decided to have a double header on Saturday. So it was late when they left Athens on Saturday, and they decided to drive all night. (This is typical of Glasco men.) Gerald texted me when they got to Chattanooga, and he turned the driving over to DuWayne. I don’t know when they arrived at the farm, but Gerald was sleeping in bed with me when I got up, but I do not think it had been for very long.

Before I left for Katherine’s house, I had left a note on the kitchen table that anyone who wanted had been invited to go to a 9 a.m. worship with the Taylors and that we were planning on eating Easter dinner at a local restaurant at 11 in hopes Elijah might be able to linger that long and also to avoid the holiday crowd. He needed to get on the road, however; but Gerald did get up to see him briefly before he left and Sam before he went to attend church with Anna. The kids had all attended her church’s Easter vigil the previous night which ended at midnight.

Gerald was too tired to make it in for dinner, but I was well pleased because Trent did. He stays so busy working two jobs, doing great class work at John A., and keeping up his extensive Internet life that even though he is the local one, I rarely get to see him. So sitting by him and getting his hug was special although I was saddened knowing Brianna probably won’t be home until semester’s end. Then she is heading back to Orlando to work at Disney again this summer.

I had asked Katherine what she wanted for dinner later in the afternoon, and she decided she would be able to eat meatloaf. Wouldn’t you know that the restaurant had a new menu and meatloaf was not on it. I did take Gerald home a piece of sugar-free apple pie. When I was texting, Katherine later about the meatloaf and planning to go to a different place to get it, she realized she was hungry for fish. So fish, potato casserole, and baby carrots along with chocolate cake for dessert was her holiday meal, and she was able to eat quite a bit of it.

Well, Jeannie has not arrived yet, and I will not keep her up once she gets here. But I am entertaining myself to stay up in order to see her smiling face and know she is safely here! Talking can happen tomorrow.

A Family of Teachers

After a weekend here to celebrate her tenth high school class reunion, granddaughter Erin left us with hugs and we waved her off. There was a text when she arrived in Saint Louis with the rented car to be gassed up and turned in. Another text when she was ready to catch her flight. And just as I was drifting into sleep an hour or so after Sunday midnight, I heard the loud musical signal that Gerald’s phone plays when a new text comes in. Loud enough to hear over the noise of a tractor, I suppose. I had not been waiting for it, but I knew instantly who it was and why. Gerald slept through it, and he would find it on his phone when he woke up at five or six. I rolled over and thanked God our granddaughter was safely back home in her apartment in Texas. I knew she would be getting up in a very few hours to go spend the day teaching 7th graders and then after school coaching the season’s sport for girls.

Erin is one of four women who together coach volleyball, basketball, track, power lifting. Seems like there was a fifth sport. Right now I think the season is volleyball. No softball for that age group, and oddly with all her softball coaching experience, Erin seemed to find that refreshing and less pressure on her. I do not doubt she is a fine coach.

But what I really am deeply pleased about is her class room and the 90 kids who come through it daily. I love hearing about her activities to help these kids be better writers. I enjoy hearing her enthusiasm and understanding for her “sweet babies” who may smart off or cuss her or who might even in an extreme case throw a desk across the room. I like knowing she is teaching them that is not the way to be. I like knowing that she does not take personally the bad behavior that results from a child’s life-time of home or neighborhood mis-education. (And sometimes even a lifetime of brutality.) I hate hearing the teachers who shake their heads and talk about how bad the students are today and, thus, excuse themselves from trying to earn their paycheck. This is Erin’s third year of teaching and the first in this city, and she has every intention of making a difference in students’ skills and, consequently, in their lives. And she will.

Many years ago I listened to Katherine’s stories when she taught inner city 7th graders sometimes taller than herself. Some were dangerous. Yet I never heard her talk bad about a student or hesitate to go talk to a parent in the projects if needed. She deliberately never locked up her purse; and if I am remembering correctly, she only lost one twenty dollar bill. Good teachers love their kids and never give up.

I love hearing our daughter Jeannie tell how she interacts with students in her classroom turned into an art studio. The kids are sometimes put into shock mode when they realize they must create and are not expected to do the same thing at the same time as a neighbor. For many kids this is an unsettling new experience. The freedom of not coloring within the lines (so to speak) has to be dealt with emotionally before their innate talent begins to express itself. This takes lots of time and lots of patience.

My own little long ago teaching experience was always in schools with less of the behavior challenges that Erin. Katherine, Jeannie, and my niece Kyna have faced. And I never taught long enough to master some things. So I vicariously enjoy hearing these descendants’ successes. Yet what many people do not understand is how far we have come from the days of one-room schools when teachers were routinely run off by over-grown 8th graders who liked to throw their weight (and fists) around. Yet the successful teachers—even tiny young women sometimes—could subdue the miscreants and charm kids is into learning, which all humans love to do if they find they can. (I am sure the teachers today who have died from guns would prefer yesterday’s fists, but I am avoiding that subject.)

I suspect teaching is like everything else—its success depends on determination. If one method does not work, something else needs to be tried. Quitting is not an option for a good teacher. I loved hearing my sister-in-law Vivian, whom I am sure was an excellent teacher, tell about a night class she took on discipline near the end of her career and how much she learned from that class. Good teachers are always learners and open to new ways if the new ways are better.

I did not mean to blog about teachers tonight, but education is one of my strong interests, and I got carried away. There are three or four teachers in our area whom I consider master teachers, and I always follow their careers when I can. My grandfather, who died before I was born, was a teacher. I had his teaching exam results framed for a gift for my brother, and I am ashamed to say that I loved it so much that it is still hanging on my wall. I always delighted in my brother’s stories of teaching also. One story: he became a principal in a poverty-stricken area and the basketballs were constantly being stolen by kids who did not have them. He quickly let them check them out and take them home with them, and then they were returned and none were ever stolen again.

My great grandfather did not want his son to leave the farm and ride his horse so far away the 20 miles or so to Carbondale to become a teacher. An older man in the community loaned him the money, and he was always grateful to that kind man, my daddy told me. Both my parents were teachers, and I heard them arguing their somewhat different teaching philosophies at many meals. (I saw how they respected differing opinions, and so today I value honest debate.) I saw them pile into a car with other teachers to go to Carbondale to take yet another night class in hopes of completing their degrees. Besides the loved ones I have already talked about, I have one granddaughter who taught before she had her three sons, and I have two grandchildren in their last year of college who are planning on careers in special education. I like to think this pleases that grandfather I never met.

Adversity

Although we missed out on one big snow while we were gone, we came home from Texas to experience the next one. Schools were closed, and people were pretty much home bound by the ice and snow.

Our middle daughter Jeannie has been our extremely dedicated bicycle rider and healthy food advocate. We were shocked to find out that a second surgery was required after a negative biopsy. We delayed our trip up to Jeannie’s because of the fear of roads. (I felt as if the worst thing we could do was to go up and have an accident and add to family woes.) We were glad we waited. Despite the snow in the fields beside the highways for the length of state, the roads were all fine. So we arrived last Friday—the day Jeannie came home from the University of Wisconsin hospital a day early, which we thought was a very good sign.

The weather had not only gone from bad to beautiful in Freeport, but we had to laugh when Gerald reported from a phone call to our nephew DuWayne that the temperature down here was colder that where we were at the north end of the state.

Once Jeannie arrived at home, her positive attitude kicked in, and she started walking every day. She is determined to be as healthy as possible as she recovers from this unexpected adversity in her life. Since she is not allowed to ride her bike yet, she is substituting walking. Her daughter and son-in-law arrived the same day we did. Mike left Sunday with Millie and Sidney (their big dogs), but Leslie stayed to support her mother. Despite a busy high school schedule and working a shift Saturday at the thrift store where she clerks, Cecelie was in and out with her boyfriend. They impressed us with their serious chemistry study at the dining room table after we ate.

Leslie was there until Thursday of this week when she back flew home to Nashville. Elijah was on spring break from Illinois State, and he arrived the day after us on Saturday in perfect timing to work the opening day at the famous Union Dairy (the place where people in Freeport go to get their ice cream cones every spring and summer). He was able to see how well his mother looked, take Leslie to the airport, and make himself useful during the week however he could. I am sure Cecelie was glad to have the companionship of her siblings during this time.

And I am sure they ate well all week, because Jeannie’s church was sending food. We enjoyed part of that good homemade food. I even came home with the recipe that the pastor’s wife sent with her Quinoa chicken salad. I had just learned its surprising pronunciation before we went to Jeannie’s, but I had never eaten it. Now if I can find it at the grocery store, maybe I will cook it and join the other gluten-free Quinoa enthusiasts. We were especially blessed Saturday evening to get to hear Leslie and Elijah practice “At the Table of the Lord,” which Jeannie had requested that they sing the next day at their morning service.

We felt we needed to leave Sunday morning instead of going to worship with them, because we wanted to stop in Mattoon to see my brother Jim, who is still recovering from the heart procedures earlier this year. After a lazy and pleasant breakfast at our motel, we took off. We knew my nephew Robert was staying with Jim and Vivian this winter helping them—they brag on his cooking. We were looking forward to seeing him for the first time in a long while. We were even more excited when we arrived to find our great nephew Sean and his two sons there visiting. I had not seen Sean since he was a young boy and had never met their toddler Lincoln (called Linc) nor Vincent Indiana Roland Jones, age 5, and called Indy. Linc had beautiful red hair, the kind we had always wished someone would inherit from Vivian. She graciously explained that Sean’s wife Paige had red hair in her family too. They soon had to leave, but Indy sparkled and entertained us while they were there, and I had to notice his excellent vocabulary.

As I had hoped, next my niece Judi dropped in. We had missed Sean’s brother Ryan from Champaign-Urbana, who visited the day before. And we had to leave before our niece Jane and her daughter Vanessa dropped in, but we still felt we had great dividends for stopping for that brief visit and seeing so many of the family.

We have had a busy week here as one of Katherine’s new aides ended up at the doctor’s with kidney stones and was unable to work all week. Fortunately that aide was friends with another woman who came part of the aide’s shifts, and I helped out as did some of Katherine’s friends who have generously given her their help. This was spring break for schools in our area, so Sam and his dad David had gone to visit a couple of colleges in the Southeast. With Trent on break to go with them, Brian and Mary Ellen traveled down to visit Brianna at Disney World. Fifi, who travels well, was able to go along because Brianna was missing her too. She was able to stay in the kennel there since Brianna had a discount. Mary Ellen and Brian must have felt rejuvenated by their trip, because they were already heads up painting the ceiling in their living room changing the brown wooden tiles to white. It was looking good when I stopped by. I got an air hug from Trent, who wasn’t feeling well. I had never had an air hug before but I imitated and sent one back.

I think all the family is back in place now, and we are hoping Katherine’s aide has no more health problems. I finally had my evaluation appointment, and I will start two weeks of physical therapy on Tuesday, Most of all, we are praying that the week goes well for Jeannie as her treatment continues. So many people are praying for her, and we would be grateful if you would too. She might get to complete her planned bicycle last lap to the Gulf Coast this summer after all.

Katherine's Home from the Hospital

People are asking, so I better post to let you know that Katherine came home finally on Thursday.  We were originally told that she could come home Tuesday, which made me very nervous because I thought it seemed too soon although she was out of ICU on Monday even though they had no new room to move her to until Tuesday.  But we made all the arrangements to bring her home as we had been told.  In fact, they had even checked with the doctor to see if she could be out by noon to keep her 2 p.m. dental appointment. He said that was possible. When I got to the hospital early Tuesday, I learned that her newest INR reading showed her blood was too thin, so she would not get out after all.

I arrived at the hospital as early as possible Wednesday morning assuming she would be able to come home that day.  Someone unofficially told us her blood level was ok.  (Wrong. Actually it was still a wee bit high.) Her hospitalist doctor was off that day, and we waited for the substitute.  And waited. We were told he was on our floor before noon—but we never saw him if he was. Gerald was at home poised to drop everything and  go get her van as soon as we phoned him—the same as he had waited on Tuesday.  Finally late in afternoon, we gave up on being allowed to take Katherine home.  Actually I was not in any hurry, but she was. I felt she was safer in the hospital, but I felt sorry for her wanting to go home so would have welcomed that too.  At 6:15 that evening, I decided my day had been as long as I needed; and if the doctor came, Katherine could talk to him alone, which of course she did.

Again I arrived early on Thursday.  She was given the ok to go home, and we started gathering stuff and planning. It was amazing how much staff she had accumulated in a week’s time. Her dental appointment had been postponed until Thursday afternoon when we thought she was getting out on Wednesday.   Jeannie had texted that she would be down to help, and that took a big worry off my mind.  Gerald brought her home and drove her to the dentist in time for her appointment. I went to the drug store and filled two prescriptions, and called her aide that we were home.  The aide  came to help, and a friend brought a casserole.  I eventually went home to rest so I could come back with Gerald and Jeannie to help them get her in bed.  Jeannie spent the night.

The aide came Friday morning to get her out of the bed with the Hoyer, and when the aide went home, I came in.  Jeannie again came to help Gerald with the Hoyer and to spend the night again making the necessary adjustment that Katherine's pain requires.  Jeannie had spent some of her daytime sleeping time shopping for what she hoped might be more comfortable night wear for Kathy. I have been home both nights by 11, and I can sleep late again in the morning as I have the last two days.  Jeannie will have to return to the northern part of the state tomorrow as soon as she rests up for the drive. I will miss her.

Tonight’s blog should let everyone know that as far as the blood clots are concerned, Katherine is doing well. The multiple sclerosis  really does not seem any worse because of them. Since the MS and the constant pain was bad enough before the clots, we are grateful symptoms have not increased. That is a good thing.

We try to get daily texts to Katherine’s siblings, but I really do not have time to do more than that.  So just know if I do not blog or do not phone, things are going as well as we can hope, but there is just not time for much communication.