Over the last seven months, I’ve thought a lot about the meaning of home. November 2, 2012, at nearly age 32, I moved back to my hometown to take care of my Grandma. After a very rough winter and spring, she now resides in a local skilled nursing facility. Fortunately she now appears to be healthy and at least content. We are fortunate she is still with us. Even though I visit her nearly every day, I miss her. I think of all of our outings to her favorite restaurants, all of her little quirks, not to mention all of the fun we had when I was a kid. Then add in the fact that I am currently living in her home. I am reminded daily of French toast and bacon breakfasts, mouthwatering ice creams sundaes with fresh berries, and countless family gatherings, whether Easter, hunting season, Thanksgiving, or Christmas. She’s always been an important part of my life and the lives of everyone in my immediate family. It’s difficult to watch her world constrict, watch her lose interest is things she used to love, watch her slowly forget. No, this year has not been an easy one thus far. So many little things surprised me when I first moved back to Omer. After managing a convenience store in another small Michigan town, I came to realize just how friendly people can be in my hometown. They may not be more sophisticated, articulate, or educated, but they are much friendlier. Working in a convenience store built by my Grandpa brought about mixed emotions. I wish he was here. Things you never thought would change change, and yet so many things remain the same. Growing up, all the boys into skateboarding congregated in the large parking lot behind the convenience store. Well, during an unusually warm January day, I had to smile as I stepped out back to see a group of skater boys trying to impress one another. Same story, different kids. I saw more former childhood classmates while working at the convenience store than I’ve seen in the last 14 years. Since when did we become adults? Now we are discussing who moved back to town and who moved away, marriage and kids, not scheming and dreaming to be anywhere but here. In mid-May I quit my part-time job at the convenience to work for my parents at Russell Canoe Livery for the summer. My brother and I eventually plan to purchase the business from our parents. Already there are so many names I recognize from my childhood, customers who have been with us for over 25 years. Yet, so many things have changed. I miss my grandparents being there day-in, day-out. We no longer run out of canoes on prime weekends, we rent more tubes. You no longer need an adapter to get into our electricity. Somehow I missed that one. I love the business and hope we can expand for years to come. All of the little things I mentioned above mean “home” to me. For better or worse, I do belong here, and I intend to make the most of it. Now for the hard part: I have to somehow make this all work. Somewhere along the way I lost sight of what is possible. I need to regain the drive and vision I had in college. I need to once again ignore all those who say “I can’t.” 
Archives
The Spin Doctors 20 Years On
Cover of Pocket Full of Kryptonite
There are certain things, certain music, that remind me of very specific events in my life. The band The Spin Doctors will always remind me of being 13. They were pretty big back in the early ‘90s and some punk boys I went to school with thought “Little Miss Can’t Be Wrong,” one of the better Spin Doctors songs, described me perfectly. So, yeah – I have to admit that every time I hear that song I have to laugh.
So why am I bringing this up now? Well, The Spin Doctors will be performing in Bay City later this week at the 20th Annual Labadie Pig Gig. There is a part of me that would love to see them in concert. It is hard to believe that Pocket Full Of Kryptonite is over 20 years old.
What songs take you back to being 13?
Blog Tour: Book Review “Pulse Of Heroes” By A. Jacob Sweeny
Michelle, ma belle
Sont les mots qui vont tres bien ensemble
Tres bien ensemble
I love you, I love you, I love you
That’s all I want to say
Until I find a way
I will say the only words I know that
You’ll understand
“Michelle” – Lennon/McCartney 1967 Rubber Soul
Before I begin my review of Pulse Of Heroes by A. Jacob Sweeny, there are a couple of things I need to say. First, I have to confess that this review should have appeared as part of a much larger blog tour on Friday, May 25, 2012. I am truly sorry for the delay. Sometimes it is all worth the wait. Second, despite the fact that I agreed to review the book months ago, “paranormal” romance, and I use the term loosely in this case, isn’t a genre that I’m very familiar with at all. That is part of the reason I decided to review the book. I’m very glad I did. Twilight this is not.
The first third of the novel is almost exclusively dedicated to Michelle’s rather ordinary high school life in suburban California, near Napa Valley to be exact, and a series of chance meetings that alter her life in a series of surprising ways. Sweeny certainly knows how to write the inner life of a teenage girl authentically. Michelle is perhaps the most well-developed teenage female protagonist I’ve ever come across. If I ever chose to write fiction featuring a strong teenage female voice, I will reread Pulse Of Heroes. Michelle’s voice was so authentic I found myself empathizing with her several times, remembering I felt much the same way throughout high school, despite never having failed Italian. At times it became almost painful reliving high school memories through Michelle’s experiences.
While the first third of the novel discusses Michelle’s high school life, it also sets the scene for her increasing entanglement with Elliot, Rion, Xander, and everyone else at the new school in Michelle’s neighborhood, the Hekademos Learning Center. Elliot is every bit as much of a well-developed character as Michelle. Michelle and Elliot may not recognize in the beginning just how much they love each other, but every small step in their relationship is riveting. Their tension alone drives the novel, despite all the complications, hurt, and jealousies featured in the second half of the book.
While I don’t want to give away any of the plot twists in the novel, I do have to mention a few other relationships in the book. Michelle’s entire experience with Haden while in Europe is harrowing. I love how Sweeny uses that particular relationship to discuss Michelle’s sexuality in depth, without resorting to clichés or sex itself. In fact, Michelle’s self-respect is refreshing, as is Elliot’s entire relationship with her. My favorite scene comes towards the end of the novel when Elliot and Michelle finally come to terms with their relationship. It is only then they truly come to any full understanding of their true feelings for one another.
Michelle’s relationship with Francesca is sweet, uncomplicated, and adds to the complexity of Michelle’s characters. I truly loved seeing a deep friendship between a teenager and senior citizen in the novel. Their affection is palpable. Throughout the novel Michelle and Elliot discover just how many people love them, and how much they love each other.
If you are looking for a unique young adult series, this just might be it. There is a depth underpinning the entire novel that isn’t easy to come by. All of the relationships ring true and set the stage nicely for the next books in the series. I am eager to continue the series and can’t recommend Pulse Of Heroes by A. Jacob Sweeny enough.
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High School Memoirs
This could only happen in my life. Not all that long ago, my former high school principal wrote a pretty scandalous book about all the things he saw over decades serving as a high school administrator in both the parochial and public school systems in Michigan, including the school system I attended grades K-12. He spent much of his tenure as high school principal at Standish-Sterling High School, the high school from which I graduated in 1999. Much to my fascination, many of the incidents in the book actually took place during my junior high and high school years. At that time the junior and senior high schools were housed in the same building. I finally had the opportunity to borrow a copy and read what all the fuss was about.
Before I go any further, a little background is necessary. The Standish-Sterling Community School District, located in Arenac County, is a consolidated rural school district dating from the very late 1950s. It serves the small town of Standish, Michigan and the village of Sterling, Michigan, as well as much of the surrounding area. Prior to 1959, both Standish and Sterling had their own school systems, including high schools. I have family members who graduated from Standish High School and Sterling High School, and scores who are alumni of Standish-Sterling High School.
Farming makes up much of the community and in fact the entire county. Despite being a small Class B school district with approximately 1,800 kids enrolled in the entire district, and even that number seems too high, it is far and away the largest of the three school districts in Arenac County. The other districts are less than half the size of Standish-Sterling Community Schools. In my opinion, those two districts, which are in close proximity to one another, needed to consolidate decades ago. Only traditional high school rivalries continue to get in the way.
As for my personal history with the Standish-Sterling school district, it is the foundation upon which my entire education rests. I attended all three schools that made up the district at the time: Sterling Elementary (K-3rd), Standish Elementary (4th-6th), and Standish-Sterling Junior/Senior High School (7th-12th). In spite of being bullied horribly in elementary school, cliques, lack of any athletic ability whatsoever, and more than a few mediocre teachers in junior high and high school, I did receive an excellent education. There are only a handful of my high school teachers who truly prepared me for college well and inspired my imagination. For that I will always be grateful. My freshman year at Michigan State underscored just how well I was prepared and set the stage for all that was to come.
But there is so much more to my personal connection with the school district. Not only did my Mom teach 6th grade and then kindergarten at Standish Elementary the entire time I was a student, she attended both Standish Elementary and Standish-Sterling Central Junior/Senior High School her entire K-12 education as well. I poke fun of the situation here. It meant I had several teachers my Mom had had 24 years earlier. As the child of a teacher, that much more was expected out of me, daily.
There is so much that goes along with being the child of a teacher. I don’t know where I’d begin. I do know this: I wouldn’t change it for anything in the world. I know nothing else. One huge benefit of being a teacher’s kid is being privy to inside information, including the earliest possible cancellation of school due to snow and ice. While I would not consider my Mom a gossip by any means, at times she felt compelled to share information with someone, anyone. It was usually me. She knew I would and could keep things to myself. At times things would happen at school which demanded explanation. I always knew my Mom would and could explain without resorting to lies and cover-up. That gets at the heart of the book I mentioned above, Listen To The Echo by Dennis James Haut.
Well, where do I begin with the book? I’ll start by stating who I think should consider reading it. The only people I think would be interested are: 1. People who grew up in the Standish/Sterling area during the 1980s/1990s or had ties to the school district at that time. 2. Writers who want the perfect example of why good editors are needed. The book also offers a good example of why and how gratuitous errors in spelling, grammar, and usage can hinder the entire message of a book. Mr. Haut tries to explain this away in a “review” of the book on Amazon. He states that he planted all of those errors in the book in order to make a point. He treats it almost as a perverse game. I was left with two simple questions: 1. If you meant to have over 2,000 errors in a published book, why wouldn’t you, as author, ensure it didn’t endanger the readability of the book? That certainly wasn’t the case with Listen To The Echo. 2. If it was meant as a game, why would you not include that information at the end of the book? Again, not the case withListen To The Echo.
Now that all of that is out of the way, I will indulge you dear readers with the juiciest tidbits in the book. It is true. The book contains true stories of sexual escapades between teachers and students, as well as administrators and school staff. It confirms many rumors I heard over the years and sheds some very nasty light on one particular love triangle that took place while I was in junior high school. Let me set the scene.
Imagine you are in 7th grade. The junior high you attend is simply one hall of the high school. One junior high teacher on staff is married to the assistant high school principal. Their son is a grade ahead of you. During the course of the school year a student walks in on the assistant principal having a full on affair with one of the secretaries. The affair becomes common knowledge and ends up in a cat-fight in the main office between the secretary and the teacher, i.e. the wife of the assistant principal. It happened, and it’s in the book. I just didn’t realize how nasty things became between the two women involved. It nearly ended with assault charges according to the book. I can’t imagine what the son of the assistant principal and teacher went through at that time.
Speaking of sex, Haut also addresses the many alleged affairs that took place between students and teachers. He doesn’t go into much detail, thank God, but one statement really made me think. He states that one of the teachers ended up marrying the student with whom he was having an affair. Again, completely true. I actually know the couple well, especially the one-time student. They are now both high school teachers. Get this: They’ve been married for over 20 years and have three grown children, all prominent kids within the school system at one time. The entire situation makes one want to throw out any preconceived notions of relationships. Next to the student/teacher affairs, affairs between teachers seem mighty tame.
One of the scariest and strangest incidents of my childhood is described in detail in the book. It occurred in 1995 and set the tone for things to come. Back then I was in 8th grade. I’m not exaggerating when I say I grew up in a different world. At that time, in the days before Columbine, there was nothing preventing students and staff from having rifles locked, unloaded, in their vehicles on school property. I grew up in an area of Michigan where school is called off the first day of firearm deer hunting season. It was not uncommon for high school kids in the area to hunt before school. Again, nothing prevented students from locking up their firearms in their vehicles on school property. Insanity, right?
Along came the damn French trip and all that came with it. Later we referred to it as the S. A. incident, S. A. standing in for the initials of the student involved. It all started with the idea of the French language class taking an ill-advised trip to Paris. One student on the trip, S. A., a senior, the Valedictorian of his class, with an appointment to West Point no less, made the mistake of thinking the drinking age in France, 18, applied to him. In the end he got caught drinking in a Parisian café. I don’t remember the specifics, but there certainly were consequences. S. A. didn’t like them, even though they could’ve been much worse.
One spring afternoon, S. A. decided to drive to the administration building, located almost immediately behind the old Standish-Sterling Central Junior/Senior High School, and threaten the administrators with a gun in his vehicle. This infamous incident, four years before Columbine, led to an immediate lockdown of the junior/senior high school. As I was currently in class near the back entrance to the school, in fairly close proximity to the administration building, I remember it vividly. Fortunately, S. A. was apprehended until the police arrived. Such vivid memories flooded back that I actually dreamed of high school after I finished the book.
I have to admit I absolutely hated high school. While I wasn’t bullied in high school per se, my worst experiences with bullies occurred in elementary school, I felt trapped and bored. I spent much of the time just biding my time until college. I couldn’t wait to leave Standish-Sterling behind me. Unfortunately, with such deep family ties, and parents and grandparents that continue to live in the area, not to mention family businesses in the area, it just isn’t entirely possible.
I suppose that is what surprised me most about Mr. Haut’s book. He throws just about everyone under the proverbial bus, including the families of the Valedictorian and Salutatorian of my class. It truly opened my eyes. On the surface throughout our K-12 years, it might have looked as though I was friends with both of those women. Frenemies would be a much more apt description. I won’t go into details, but suffice to say I didn’t realize the true depth of the bad circumstances both women faced at home. If I had, I might have looked at both of them in a different light. I can’t imagine the pure cajones it took Mr. Haut to write the book. His children and grandchildren still live in the area. What pure lack of class. It amazes me I received such a good education even under such inept leadership.
As a side note, as I looked for a picture to use with this post, I came across a picture of a classroom that somewhat resembles a cross between the classrooms of Sterling Elementary and the old Standish-Sterling Central High School, now Standish-Sterling Middle School, both built in the late 1950s/early 1960s. The picture is part of the post below, which is quite interesting itself.
Back To School Dreams
Image via Wikipedia
I love this time of year. The traditional end of summer and then the start of a brand new school year always make me anxious for a fresh start. This time of year, I regret having grown up at all. Throughout my childhood I had a love/hate relationship with school. I hated some of the social aspects of school as kids can be cruel, but most of the things I hated about school were easily overcome by my love for learning. I’ve always loved learning. I also love the structure of the school day. There are simply some things that I can’t get out of my blood.
Ever since the weeks before starting 4th grade in 1990, I’ve literally dreamed about going back to school just prior to starting a new school year every year. This continued even after I graduated from Michigan State University in 2004. In fact, I just had a version of the back to school dream last week. After graduating from MSU, the dreams took on a new dimension.
The dream is usually similar to the following. I find myself in my high school, as a student, after having already graduated from college. I fit in with the high school kids physically due to my height. At first it isn’t apparent exactly why I am there. I then learn that there is some kind of mix up with my high school transcripts. My high school diploma is null and void due to no record of completing one class, usually a math class.
Even though I only have to complete one high school course, I always have a full schedule, and there are always complications. I find myself unable to even open my locker, find a class, or locate homework. I am late for class due to an incorrect schedule or a locker mix-up. I then end up wandering the halls aimlessly, confused.
Many times I find myself in math class unprepared. There are either piles of math homework to complete, not knowing where to begin, or better yet, I have to take a math exam that I am not prepared for at all. This is normally when I wake up in a cold sweat. What haunts me is the lack of answers. Not one teacher in my dreams can tell me what I need to do to move on from high school hell. That is perhaps the worst nightmare of all.
Happy new school year to all teachers and students! Here’s to organization, manageable schedules, and punctuality. May you always know where you are going and where you have been.
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- Back To School (lunchtimeexplorer.wordpress.com)
High School and Bullying Sucks, Period.
Image via Wikipedia
There is so much that I’d love to say on the topic of bullying that I’m not sure where to begin. Bullying wasn’t a huge problem for me during my high school years, but it took center stage during elementary school and junior high.
What is so sad is that I wasn’t aware that I was different in any way from other kids until I went to elementary school. I happened to be shorter and bit stockier. I looked, and still look, different. It truly angers me to think that I began to believe those kids who constantly said that I was fat and ugly.
I began to believe it. I stopped trying to find a sport or physical activity I enjoyed. I internalized what I heard on the playground every day. I’m sure that others were bullied as well. It never mattered what I said or did. Nothing changed. I simply retreated into myself. By the time I entered high school, I started preparing myself for college. It simply couldn’t come fast enough! I would finally be free of those classmates who refused to get to know me, who treated me so horribly.
My story aside, a friend of mine passed away over a year ago. We grew up together, were in the same class, and quite frankly, were both targets. I often wonder if things would’ve been different if he’d ever talked about being bullied. As good of friends as we were, it wasn’t something we discussed. We never felt the need to acknowledge it.
I feel so bad for the kids going through it now. One can only hope that karma really does exist. Let’s face it: It isn’t just boys that bully. Girls can definitely be bitches. In many cases, they learn their behavior from their parents. This post discusses it very well. By the way, I happen to think that he is very cute!
Video of students fighting concerns SSC administration – Arenac County Independent
Ogemaw Heights teen drops out of school after being bullied for being a lesbian | MLive.com
Included below is my 1st grade school photo. I remember being so upset about being short that my teacher, Mrs. Balton, tried to make me feel better by telling me that good things come in small packages.
New School Year Jitters
Image via Wikipedia
I wish I understood this. I graduated from college in 2004 and have yet to continue my education. Yet, I continue to have back to school dreams. Why am I even thinking about school at this stage of my life?
My first back to school dream took place a few weeks before I started fourth grade at a new elementary school. At that time, I was nervous for good reason! After attending a different elementary school for grades kindergarten through third, I only knew a handful of my new classmates.
In addition, I would now be a “teacher’s kid.” I’d be attending the school in which my Mom spent most of her teaching career. I already knew most of the teachers. It was inevitable that I would meet criticism as teacher’s pet. It didn’t help that I took school seriously.
Every year after that, like clockwork, I would have a back to school dream, even in college. In fact, they didn’t automatically stop after I graduated from Michigan State University in 2004. Instead, they took on new characteristics.
In those dreams, high school took center stage. Even though I graduated from MSU in the dreams as in life, I still had to complete some silly high school course. Instead of just taking a few exams and completing the missing requirements, I once again lived that nightmare that is high school.
Lockers and a high school schedule did not come as second nature, and the dream became a nightmare. In the midst of old high school teachers and new classmates, no one could tell me exactly what I missed, what I needed to complete. I couldn’t even get to class on-time or open my locker!
I sympathize with everyone, students and teachers alike, starting a new academic year. Hopefully you won’t experience any of my silly nightmares. Someday it will be over and you will find yourself longing for that unique feeling that one only gets on the first day of school. As much as I hate to admit it myself, I do miss it.
As a side note, the picture above is of Synder-Phillips Hall on the campus of Michigan State University. I lived on the second floor of Snyder Hall my freshman and sophomore years there. I adored it.
Lindsey
The Art of Inflection
Lately I’ve been thinking about why I enjoy reading so much. I’ve always enjoyed a good story, and I’ve loved reading ever since I could. Why? I’m sure that are many people who grew up with more exposure to books than I did who loath sitting down with a book.
I’ve concluded that I love to read because adults, especially my Mom, read to me as a child. My Mom is a teacher, and she made a point of reading to her kids. She, however, is no ordinary person. She has a gift that many do not; she knows the art of inflection. My Mom knows how to tell a story, whether it was a personal experience or a book. She uses her voice and hands to keep you hooked. Listening to her is fun.
After years of teaching 4th and then 6th grade, she seized the opportunity to teach kindergarten. She could not have been happier (incidentally, she retired this year). I know for a fact that those kids had exposure to reading, specifically storytelling, that many do not. I did not have the good fortune to watch her read to her classes, but I could easily imagine the scene. 25 sets of eyes glued to the page as she dramatically came to the end of one page, ready to move on to another.
During my elementary school days, teachers read to us after lunch, even in 6th grade. Next to weekly school library visits, it was my favorite time of the school day. I think that we all needed a mental escape from regular school work. In reality, we were developing close listening skills and feeding our imaginations. It is for this reason that I associate my earliest elementary school days closely with Roald Dahl and his works such as James and the Giant Peach, The BFG, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, and The Witches. Our teachers kept our attention by voice inflection and gestures, adding drama when and where they could.
During my high school years, I distinctly remember one of my favorite English teachers describing the process of visualizing literary scenes as you read. Much of the class looked lost, but I knew exactly what he meant. You visualize the scenes in your mind, and it is almost as though a movie is playing in your head.
In fact, written descriptions of characters can become all too clear in your mind at times. For example, I literally read all the Nancy Drew books as a child. In my mind, she looked a certain way and acted in a very distinct manner. If I had known that there were movies and a TV show based on the books, I would not have wanted to watch them. The images in my mind were too well-defined.
This is precisely the issue I have with watching a movie before I read the book. I will almost always prefer the book to the movie. If I watch a movie before I read the book, the movie will take over in my mind and ruin the book.
What does formulating book scenes in your head have to do with the art of inflection? In my opinion, inflection helps kids visualize the story being told. Small vocal clues and gestures help the process. All of it helps a good story come alive.
My Mom plans to write children’s books in retirement. I sincerely hope that she does. I look forward to the day when I can sit in the back of a room full of small children and watch my Mom make a story, any story, come alive.
Lindsey
Cover via Amazon
My Generation – Part I
As a result of reconnecting with high school classmates, talking about the class of 1999, and the reality of my upcoming 20th 30th birthday, the recent past (1999 – 2005) looms large in my mind. Seeing advertisements for My Generation really doesn’t help either.
I have a few theories. First and foremost, I never felt growing up that I was placed in the right class. No offense to my classmates, but I just never fit in. I also seemed to have more in common with either the class of 2000 or the class of 1998. In reality, I had more friends in both classes. Of course, none of that really mattered much – or did it?
This leads to my second theory. I graduated from college at exactly the wrong time. If I hadn’t taken the time to earn a second degree in Spanish (in addition to my business degree in supply chain management), I might have had more opportunities after graduation. If I had graduated a year later, maybe I would have continued my education after getting a taste of issues that still plague the job market, especially manufacturing.
Does any of that really matter? In one sense, no. I truly believe that things happen for a reason. I know for a fact that I’m far from the only person having difficulty getting my career – and life – where I would like it to be. In another sense, it does matter. Everything that has happened to me, my classmates, everyone from 1999 to 2010 matters. Stop and think about all of the personal, national, and even international events that have taken place. It may be cliche, but in many respects, it is hard to even remember pre-9/11. It has shaped who we are, nothing less than that.
There is much more I plan to say on this subject. In any case, all of these thoughts must have been floating through my mind when I went to sleep last night. I dreamed about having to answer for those years and how it relates to other generations (my grandparents’ generation in particular).
Sometimes I just wonder when it will all come together.
More later.
Lindsey
The First Day of School
Due to a relatively new law in Michigan (schools must start after Labor Day), tomorrow will be the first day of school for most students in Michigan (K-12). Quite frankly, I would be kidding myself if I didn’t admit that I truly miss school, whether k-12 or college. It was always something to look forward to after a summer of fun, sun, swimming, relatives, and work. Growing up, our household had two very distinct seasons, the school year and the canoeing/camping season.
Most families with children divide their year into the school year and summer; not our family. My parents’ campground and canoe livery brought much more work and responsibility to summer. Don’t get me wrong, I adored growing up around the canoe livery. It meant seeing my paternal grandparents everyday, time on the river, lots of people everywhere, and learning useful skills. It also meant that I could spend time with my Mom shopping for supplies in Saginaw. Inevitably, we would run to the mall too. I loved having an opportunity to spend time alone with my Mom alone. It was relatively rare.
As much fun as summer always was, it also meant eight to ten weeks of hard work for my parents. Both were always eager for Labor Day weekend. I always looked forward to going back to school. Of course, I would be nervous too, but there was always much more excitement within me. During the weeks before school would start, I would have crazy dreams of the first day of school. It started right before I started 4th grade (I was changing elementary schools that year) and occurred faithfully every year until I graduated from high school. There is a deep part of me that would love to become a teacher, but I’m just not sure if it is meant to be.
Best of luck to all the students and teachers who are going back to school tomorrow. My Mom and sister will be going back as elementary school teachers, and my little brother will be entering his senior year of high school.
Lindsey
Ramblings of a Misguided Blonde 