Video of Kennedy in Elgin - 1960

JFK in Elgin, Illinois


When John F. Kennedy was on the campaign trail in 1960, he stopped in Elgin, Illinois. My grandfather took the above footage of this visit.

An Internet search discovered that a White House photographer, Stanley Tretick, took a photo there that day and that photo is contained in a traveling exibition of Tretick's work. (There is a photographer on the podium with Kennedy a couple of times - could this be Mr. Tretick?)

The caption of the photo reads:

John F. Kennedy during his presidential campaign, 1960. Out-stretched hands reach for Kennedy in Elgin, Illinois.
Silver Gelatin Print
Frame Size: 20 x 16
© The Estate of Stanley Tretick/15

I found this photograph on the Internet, but am not sure it is the one described above, but it could well be.

The reason I am not sure is because of the man in the light suit - (LBJ?) is not in the video on the podium, but he might be in the car at the end of the video.

What do you think?

Tweety Bird at my feeder

This morning the cats were taking a special interest in the birds at the bird feeder so I glanced out the window and, to my surprise, saw a canary on my thistle feeder. I wish I had gotten a photo of it, but was afraid it would fly away while I was getting my camera.

I feel bad for the poor thing - cold weather is coming and I don't think canaries can stand much chill in the air.

Come to think of it, Joe looks a little like Sylvester!

Two Ground Breakings 57 years apart.

In December 1949 my grandfather, along with several other members of the Loyal Order of the Moose, Lodge 797* broke ground for a new Moose building in Elgin, Illinois.

My grandfather is the third from the left in this photo. He was active in the Moose Lodge and was governor for one term.

This photo hangs in the Elgin Area Historical Society Museum in the "Old Main" building formally owned by Elgin Academy in Elgin, Illinois.

Many of my relatives and friends of the family have been active Moose members including my Uncle Donald Youngs and my father, Elvin Patrick.

I'm not sure exactly when, but many years ago the Moose in Elgin bought land on the West side of Elgin for a new building. I discovered recently that two friends of my parents, Larry Stone and Jack Pasholk were instrumental in the purchase of that land and in starting the dream of the new building on McLean Blvd.

While I never considered joining the Moose Lodge - their policies went against my liberal ethics - my personal history does include the Moose. As a young child my parents would take me to the Christmas event held in the upper floor. We often went to the Moose for fish fry when I was growing up. I even worked there one summer serving serving drinks for Saturday dances.

I have fond memories of being at the Elgin Moose Lodge with my grandfather and uncle. One of the most vivid of my memories is the inside front door. Where a member would insert his membership card in the keyslot which caused a loud "zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz!" and the door would open.

My grandfather and uncle sometimes let me put the card in the slot.

Another memory were the many moose heads hanging on the walls of the lodge. They hang there today, looking about the same as they did in the 1960's and 1970's.

I recently read that the city of Elgin was not interested in buying the old Moose building (I thought I read this on the Elginite's Blog, but I cannot find it to link to it). This was my first indication that the lodge was ready to build on the McLean Blvd site. Then, as luck would have it, when I was visiting my parents the week before last, my mom told me that they were going to be breaking ground for the new lodge while I was in town.

I couldn't pass up an opportunity to continue a small bit of personal history, so I dragged my husband and teenagers to the ceremony. My son pointed out later that I'd repeated "My grandfather was at the first groundbreaking ceremony and I want to be at this one." I guess it got kind of old for him.

Rotund men in pale blue sport coats converged with rotund men in bright yellow sport coats, all wearing bright yellow construction helmets. They talked, joked, prayed and dug ceremoniously in the dry dirt with golden ended shovels. <

Then they called for the Women of the Moose to come up and help them dig. My mom and an old school friend (and daughter of one of the visionaries of the purchase of the land) were two of the Women of the Moose who joined the colorfully attired men for some token shovelsful of dirt and photographs.




My husband wondered afterwards why I wanted to record the ceremony. He knew my feelings about the Moose were not favoriable. Maybe in a few weeks I'll look back and wonder why I attended this event. Or maybe not. Family history is important to me. It has come full-circle and that's a good thing.

*The caption on the photo of the 1949 ground breaking calls calls the Lodge 797. The current lodge is 799.

Message in a Bottle...

This story, that came through my email box this morning as a Google Alert, made me smile. It seems that a couple, Erik and Nicole Landrowski of Elgin, Illinois, tossed a bottle with a message in it before their wedding ceremony on Grand Cayman Island. The message, dated May 2004, included contact information.

Fast forward to July 2006. On a beach in Devon, England another couple, Martin and Ruth Staddon, found the same bottle and read the message.

The article says that they are going to reply to the message, but it did not indicate whether or not the Landrowskis replied yet.

In this day and age of email, IM and fax communication, it is almost like a fairy tale to see that two couples have connected in such an unusual (and slow) manner.

It is especially sweet for me, having had my own British connections in the days before the World Wide Web's instant messaging (but after the message in the bottle days). In mid and late 1970's, before the Internet, there were weekly letters going back and forth from Elgin, Illinois to England.

I hope the Staddons and Landrowskis connect - and not just once or twice through email. Elgin and England are due for another "across the pond" friendship.

Phyllis Reynolds Naylor, children's author, Bethesda

Phyllis Reynolds Naylor, children's author, Bethesda

I "discovered" Phyllis Reynolds Naylor one summer when I was still teaching. I remember with embarrassment that I kind of neglected my pre-school aged kids while reading several of Naylors books.

When I discovered she lived in Bethesda I fantasized running into her at the local supermarket. I scoured the paper to see if she was possibly doing a signing anywhere in the area.

The next fall when my daughter entered kindergarten the school invited Ms Naylor to speak to the students. Even though my daughter was too young to attend the assembly, I volunteered to assist just so I could see Ms Naylor speak to the students.

I got to do more than that. I was asked to help out with the book signing and got to stamp Shilo's footprint in books Ms Naylor signed.

I aslo got to speak with her a little and let her know how much I enjoyed her writing. She asked which of her books was my favorite and I told her I had just read her adult novel. She seemed pleased that I knew about it and admitted that she liked it too, wondering where I found it. When I replied that I had found it at the local library she seemed surprised.

I recently found an address for her on the internet. I doubt it is her house - probably the house of her agent or something. I guess I expected Ms Naylor to live in a huge home in the mountains or on a beach or something better than a suburban tree lined street with modest brick homes.

I once wrote an email to Ms Naylor expressing surprise that she claimed to be older than my mother. She confirmed her age in the email she wrote back.

Maybe writing about teenagers makes you stay young. Maybe I should give it a go.

Another death in the neighborhood

About eighteen months ago I posted about a death in the neighborhood. At the time I resolved to be more aware of others in the neighborhood, to look outward instead of inward. I've not gotten very far in that regard. I am working on a "welcoming committee" with a number of other neighbors, however we continue coming to a standstill in our plans because we don't actually do anything.

But back to the new death. This morning in the Washington Post I read that a Marine from Bethesda died as a result of being injured by a bomb in Iraq. The article suggested that the family of the Marine lived near where I live, so I did a search on the name of the family and discovered the family lives less than two blocks away. I can see their house from my front window and have returned their dog, Lorenzo, to them on several occasions. I don't think I've said more than two sentences to the mother, and even less to the father. I don't know if I ever knew the son, but I suspect I did meet him once when I returned the dog.

I spoke to another neighbor this morning and she told me that she'd read the article too, and didn't know the family well, having only recently met the mother. She'd heard the son was injured only a day or so ago. Obviously the family was in contact with some neighbors because their correspondence was quoted in the article. That's good.

The same neighbor to whom I talked about this today, informed me that another neighbor died recently. The mother of two teenagers, one of whom I see riding his bike around here a lot. The mother was a good friend of our former next door neighbor. Again, I didn't know her. However, when the across the street neighbor died a year or so ago, I didn't attend the funeral, even though I knew the woman who died and the mother. My excuse was that I didn't know when the funeral was. That does not excuse the fact that I've never said anything to the mother about her daughter's death and now it is too late.

What is it going to take for me to take an interest in the neighbors? Is it possible to build a close-knit community, especially when one of the builders is as socially inept as I? Maybe this will be the kick in the pants I need to get on with the welcome committee work I started.

The mother of the Marine who died displayed an impeachbush.org (I think) sign in her beautifully landscaped yard. She was quietly outspoken against the war and belonged to the Military Families Speak Out organization. According to their website, many families will march on Washington between May 11 and 14. How sad that my neighbors will be burying their son at this time instead of marching in support of their cause. It is too late for them. I cannot imagine their grief.

Paving Paradise

Several years ago when my husband, Dean, expressed dismay at the development of a large farm in Montgomery County Maryland, up-county from where we live, I recall thinking, perhaps aloud, "Why do you care? It's not that you ever lived there or anything". That brief memory has come back to haunt me as I watch, albeit from afar, with my own dismay as the very farms where my husband grew up are slated for redevelopment.

In the early 1950s, Dean's parents, Ruth and Willis moved their growing family from a small house in Pingree Grove, Illinois to a large farmhouse in Udina, Illinois.

From there they moved, in the 1960's, to another farm on Plank Road. Ruth and Willis moved to the house where Ruth and her son, David, now live on Route 20, just across a field from their Plank Road house.

Dean's brother, Danny and his family now live in the Plank Road farmhouse.

When Dean and I first began dating in the early 1980s, one of the first things he did was show me the farms where he had lived. He was, and is, proud to have been a farmer's son. When we visit Illinois, which we do twice a year or so, we spend a good deal of time at the farms with our own children. Our children love to swing in the hay barn,

search for kittens in the shed and outbuildings,

and ride the 4-wheeler.

They have played in the rows of corn, fed the steer

(and know the difference between a cow and a steer), and walked through the area called simply "the woods".

They have even helped bale hay

and ridden on the hay wagon. During our most recent visit our teenaged children practiced driving our automobile around the farm buildings and through the empty corn and soybean fields.


While none of these farms are owned by Dean's family; they have always rented the land and buildings, the farms have always been there for us. We really don't need to have many plans when we visit our families. We can always find lots to do at the farms, especially in the spring and summer. But in the winter too. We all have happy memories of riding on a sled behind a snowmobile after a decent snowfall. One winter we invited my brother and his young family for our own private hay ride through the snow-covered, winter-dead fields.

These farms are as much a part of our lives as are our flesh and blood relatives. We've gotten to know where to look for new kittens each summer. We know the feeling of prickly hay on perspiring skin when visiting with the twins during hay baling time. We know the taste of sweet corn cooked moments after being picked from the corn stalk. We know, and kind of like, the many smells the steer make. We know the sounds of the farm too, the creaking of the rafter where the swinging rope is tied as we try to swing as far as we can.

It looks like we are going to have to rely only on memories before too long. Our days being able to visit the farms are numbered.

---

A few weeks ago we received an email from Dean's sister who lives in Orlando, Florida. She'd received it from a friend:

I just had to tell you about a meeting I had today with a marketing rep from one of our companies. This is a company that specializes in work for municipalities and the rep was telling me that they have been working with Pingree Grove because it is about to change from a town with a population of 75 to a town with a population of 25,000. Did you know? Already banks, Walgreens and other commercial vendors have committed to locate in the development of the town of Pingree Grove. He told me that they would eventually have 20 parks and 6 baseball fields. It's incredible! Urban sprawl has reached "grandma's house." He was surprised that I had ever heard of the place. Things are really going to change.

That email elicited this response from Carol, Dean's sister-in-law who lives on the Plank Road farm:

A front page article in the Elgin Courier this morning talked about 576 acres on Plank Rd and Rte 20 to be developed. That's us! It sounds
incredible. I'll have to send you the article. Shops, restaurants, $16.00 glass of chardonnay and more. Danny said I guess I'd better pack
my bags.

I didn't wait for Carol to send me the Elgin Courier News article, I found it online and was heartbroken. According to the article by Nathanial Zimmer, "...a 576-acre chunk of farmland at Plank Road and U.S. 20..." could become a high-density, mixed-use project that would put restaurants, retailers, office buildings, condominiums, townhomes and detached single-family homes..." The article also claimed that the model for the plan is a development called "The Glen" which is an upscale planned-commuintiy in Glenview, Illinois with offices, amenities and homes within walking distance of each other. Elgin's Mayor, Ed Schock, was quoted as saying, "We have an opportunity to come up with something really special". Elgin's main planner, Tom Armstrong is quoted in the article as well. He said, "I think [the land owners should] be commended for [taking an interest in the ideas espoused by New Urbanist land-planners, who seek to limit sprawl and reduce traffic congestion by creating walkable communities that place homes, workplaces and stores in close proximity]".

Another article, this time in the Daily Herald, quotes Jerry Deering, the city's director of community development, as saying, "It's unlike anything Elgin or the entire metropolitan area has ever seen, with its sheer size, density and sustainable transportation synergy". The Herald article also names the architectural and landscape design firm based in Geneva, Illinois, that is planning on doing the development as well as the owners of the property.

It is obvious that Elgin is excited about this development. Perhaps I would also be excited about the project if I didn't know the families on the farms. After my son's initial shock when I told him about the development he called me a hypocrite. He meant that at one time the house in which we live was an orchard, and before that probably simply wilderness. While that may be true, I'm not a hypocrite for that reason. People have to live somewhere, and our house was here before any of us were born. I am a hypocrite because I didn't begin to be digsusted by urban sprawl, dwindling family farms, or developments along country roads until it hit close to home. Not home as in the nearby sense, we moved away from Elgin a quarter-century ago, but home in the "home is where the heart is" sense.

I also imagine that if I owned the properties I'd be selling them too, considering the rate farmland in the area is going for these days. I'm not faulting anyone, really. Just sad about the personal loss. If city planners get their way, no one I know would be able to afford a house, condo or even a glass of wine in the new development.

The development of Pingree Grove is also a sore spot. Each Christmas eve for the past 20something years of my life has been spent at the Luthern Church in Pingree Grove. Dean's grandparents lived there and his grandfather owned a lumber company there. Dean's parents and older siblings lived in a house in Pingree Grove for a while and Dean's mother still owns the house.

I wonder how many Elginites will drive down Plank Road or Route 20 in a few years and feel sad about the farms that used to be there. Perhaps a former Marylander will drive by "Elgin West" and remember growing up near Kings Farm and feeling sad that another farm has been turned into a housing development.

I'm working on creating a blog that documents the developments. This is not to try to stop anything, that cannot be done, but to document farmland that once grew corn and soybeans as it turns into a housing development that will sprout houses, offices, cafes and shops. I'll take photos during my visits to Elgin, link to and quote articles in papers and perhaps interview people close to the action as the development progresses.

my little girl -- All grown up

My daughter bridged from a cadette girl scout to a senior girl scout and her troop celebrated. They dressed up in formal wear, took a limo to a very fancy restaurant and then rode in the limo to a movie theatre where they saw The Producers.

I knew Clare was a beauty, but this and the other photos of the evening, proved it.

Cedar Waxwings in my Yard

I've been sick since Friday. My son brought home a case of croup and I caught it from him. I hate to be sick, especially during the holiday season where I have so many things to do.

Last night it snowed here in Bethesda. Not a lot, but enough to settle on the branches of the trees and cover rooftops and grassy areas with a couple of inches of white powder. I'm not a big fan of snow, but I like looking out the window at it the morning after a snowfall.

This morning, while drinking my cup of coffee, I sat looking out the side window of my living room. I saw a lot of action in the bushes and noticed many robins flying around, and settling on branches. It's not often I see robins in the snow, even though I know some winter here. One robin sat on a very snowy branch, with his head turned and looked exactly like the English robin featured on a Christmas card I received yesterday from a British friend. I thought about getting my camera, but didn't want to take a photo through the window and was feeling too sick to actually get dressed and go outside to take a picture of a bird that by then would have flown away.

I then suspected that with all of the robin activity, I might be lucky and see a flock of cedar waxwings as well. I often do see them when the robins come through after cold weather sets in. They both like eating the holly berries on the trees in the neighborhood. We only have two, but our neighbors have several.

So, I went to each window and searched the branches for more bird activity. I was rewarded at the second window when I saw a solitary cedar waxwing sitting in a tree that grows in the grassy area between the sidewalk and the street. (I grew up calling it a "tree bank", but I've gotten such funny looks when I call it that, I don't call it anything).

I did get the camera and took several shots of the waxwing through the window, none of which came out very well. Later I think I saw several cedar waxwings in the trees in the back yard and thought about getting dressed and trying to get better shots, but didn't do it and the flock few to a different yard.

It is such a treat to see these birds. They are obviously my favorite bird, given that I am "Cedar Waxing" in most of my online travels. I love their sleek look, their unique markings from the eye markings that look like pointy sunglasses to the bright red tips of their wings that give them the name "waxwing" (it looks like their wings have been dipped in wax) to the bright yellow line on the tips of their tails. I love their gregarious nature. From what I know about them, they always travel in flocks. I even heard that waxwings will sometimes sit in a row on a branch and pass a berry or petal from one to another down the line until everyone is fed.

The sighting didn't make me better, but it gave me the energy to think about feeling better. And that counts for something.

Is Blog a word? Let's ask Blogger!

I thought this was funny. After writing an entry today using the Blogger interface I did a spell check. The word "blog" was highlighted as misspelled.

Isn't that kind of funny? You'd think the Blogger folks would have added that to the dictionary.

That is not as bad as the program w.bloggar where anything capitalized ends up getting flagged as a spelling error. The days of the week, months of the year, names of countries and cities are all counted incorrect.

Luckily Blogger's spelling tool allows for "learning", so if I write blog again in a blog after clicking the "learn" button, the word blog should not be highlighted.

Right?

We will see... Hmmmmm










Oh dear.

Photographing Fairies

On a small trail near the C & O Canal in Glen Echo, Maryland is a Sycamore that has somehow been hollowed out, yet remains alive. There is room for several people to stand upright in this tree.

My husband, at the request of our daughter, took a photograph up inside the tree trunk. The photo here is what I saw when I looked at the photo on the computer.

About a dozen small colorful orbs seem to be dancing in the hollow trunk of the tree.

After seeing the tree my daughter wondered aloud what creatures lived in that tree. I guess we found out.

Fairies!

Elginor Why F. Scott Fitzgerald was mistaken

Perhaps because I am now of an age where I have more of a past than a future, I have been examining my past self, places I've lived and people I've known. Perhaps it is only because I have been reviewing old family movies and it is simply nostalgia for what once was. Most likely, it is because I've been given the opportunity of seeing my hometown through the eyes of others.

My hometown, Elgin, Illinois, has been a source of slight discomfort for me for the past several decades. I've very recently discovered that, while it really doesn't much resemble my hometown anymore, I no longer feel the urge to mumble the name when telling others where I grew up.

Until I went to a close-by but out-of-town university, Elgin was simply my hometown. I was born at Sherman Hospital the first year Elgin was considered an All American City. My family was a typical working class family of the time. My dad first repaired cars, then appliances. My mom stayed home until my brother was at least in junior high school and I was in college.

I even had a sense of pride in Elgin because I could trace my ancestry through my maternal grandfather to the early years of Elgin. His mother was a Tyler, a family whose name was given to a local creek and park. Other ancestors of my grandfather built a church on Highland Avenue, west of town and gave their name to a country road there.

When I went to college, however, I discovered that the name Elgin usually elicited the response, "state hospital"? It had not occurred to me that our local mental health facility would be what made Elgin known to others. I assumed people would remember the Elgin watches, not the insane asylum.

In 1979, when I graduated from NIU with a teaching degree, Elgin's school district, U-46 was considered a prime place to land a teaching job. At the time, I remember the professors saying it was second only to Schaumburg in terms of desirable places to teach. I applied to U-46 when I graduated, but was told to get some experience elsewhere and try again.

I met my future husband in 1979 and we moved to Pennsylvania in 1982. That far away from Elgin, we had to tell people we were from a town about 35 miles west of Chicago before they understood where we were from. At least people didn't wonder if we had spent time in a madhouse.

Since our move from the area, the school system declined, farmland has been destroyed for more and more housing, and riverboat gambling became a reality.

I cannot find data regarding school performance before 1999, but since then district U-46 has not done well on standardized tests. I'm a product of the U-46 schools and while my education might have been lacking in a few things, I think they did a decent enough job educating me. Because I have nieces and nephews who are school aged and live or lived in Elgin, I've been forced to become aware of the school situation in Elgin. My sister-in-law, who grew up in Batavia, disliked U-46 so much she spent more than she earned on private schools for her children when she lived in town.

Each visit to Elgin saddens us with more housing and less farmland. I grew up on the west side of Elgin and remember when it was the edge of the city. We even had well water for a few years of my childhood. Now the west side of Elgin extends about two miles west of my childhood home. My husband's brothers are all farmers in the area and my husband grew up on a farm that will soon be demolished and turned into a subdivision.

In the early 1990s when Elgin considered riverboat gambling. I remember being dismayed at the idea of gambling in my hometown, and prophesied Elgin would become a modern-day Sodom and Gomorrah if it went through. Proponents of the gambling boat claimed Elgin would see income from profits from the boat and in 1993 the idea became a reality and the boat was built and opened in 1994. Not long before that an episode of the television program, The Simpsons, enacted my worst fears when the hometown of the Simpsons, the fictionalized Springfield, opens a riverboat casino and the town becomes a virtual Pottersville.

So, as you see, until recently I've been disappointed in Elgin and embarrassed to call it my birthplace. It was not living up to my childhood expectations. It was going through swift changes and making me more and more uncomfortable with each subsequent visit. I also felt as if I had outgrown Elgin. After all, I lived near Washington, DC and was well-versed in computers, website design, blogs, chatrooms and bulletin boards and few years ago when I suggested to a class reunion chairperson that a website (freely made by me) or email list would be a valuable contribution to the class of 1975's 25^threunion plans I was told that no one used email or the Internet. That did it. I put Elgin at the back of my mind except for the dreaded visits back home for Christmas and occasional summer vacations.

A few weeks ago I looked up Elgin in the Wikipedia and found, to my surprise, an entry. That entry led me to flickr photos of Elgin, which led me to a blog which led me to several other blogs. In the few years since my high school reunion, Elgin had come online and out of the 20^th Century. After being amazed and in awe about this miracle, I began to realize that not only was this a good opportunity to know what was going on in Elgin, it also gave me a chance to see Elgin through the eyes of others.

F. Scott Fitzgerald wrote in The Great Gatsby:

"It is invariably saddening to look through new eyes at things upon which you have expended your own powers of adjustment."

I disagree with Mr. Fitzgerald. I had been looking at Elgin through the eyes of people who had only heard of Elgin because of the state hospital. I looked at Elgin through my sister-in-law's eyes who distrusted the school system and harbored a prejudice against the city. I looked at Elgin through my own biased eyes after having my technology ideas rejected by former classmates. Now I can look at Elgin through the eyes of people who are proud to live in Elgin, or who live there temporarily, but willingly.

This new awareness does not alter the fact that the farmland is swiftly being replaced by tract housing. Could it be for the better? Is it making the Elgin area a better place? Maybe, but it still is depressing. It reminds me of when my husband and I lived in Pittsburgh and an old bar was remodeled into an upscale drinking and dining establishment. Because we were newcomers, it made little difference to us, but I vividly remember passing an older gentleman whom I had often seen drinking at the bar before the remodel as he left the bar the night of its grand re-opening. He looked incredibly sad and mumbled something under his breath about "damn yuppies" and I never saw him at the bar again. As I look upon the thousands of homes being built on former corn fields, I think "damn newcomers".

While I am still not sold on the idea of riverboat gambling in Elgin, and believe Elgin could become like Atlantic City with glitz and glitter less than a block away from abject poverty, I am willing to open my mind to hearing positive stories about the profits from the endeavor. Besides, it's almost fun watch late night cable in Bethesda, Maryland and see the Grand Victoria Casino in Elgin advertised on the Discovery Health channel.

Not long ago when I was asked where I was originally from, the person making the query then remarked that he had been to Elgin. He didn't say anything about the state hospital, nor did he mention watches. He had gone there to gamble.

Oh well.

The Observer | UK News | Holy war looms over Disney's Narnia epic

To millions The Chronicles of Narnia are a childhood tale of wonder and triumph now made into a film that could inspire millions of children to read. To others, including the celebrated fantasy author Philip Pullman, they are stories of racism and thinly veiled religious propaganda that will corrupt children rather than inspiring them.

So begins an article in the Guardian Observer.

Geez, can't Pullman leave Lewis alone? I'm sick of this debate. Good grief, it cannot even really be a debate because one of the debators has been dead for more than four decades.

Awareness wristbands and Lent

I posted this post this last spring on my Live Journal blog and forgot to crosspost.

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What do those colorful plastic wristbands that are popular to wear these days and Lent have in common?

Here in my household they both are not much more than fads.

There have been articles written about the "devaluation" of the colorful wristbands such as this one from the Philadelphia Enquirer:

"Red, blue, purple, pink - no one color can be exclusively related to a particular group or ailment. So, how meaningful can sporting these awareness bands be?

And there's a rampaging ubiquity to it all, as with other fast fads. Our culture seizes on something, then wears it, says it, or does it to death.

Besides, let's face it, it's a tad self-aggrandizing to show the world you've donated - minimally - to a charity.

What do women say when they see a band dangling from the wrist of a guy at a bar? "Ooo, Jenny, he's tall and he hates heart disease. I think he could be the one"?...

...Teen-tilted stores such as American Eagle Outfitters are selling multihued wristbands that have nothing to do with doing good.

It's becoming mere fashion now."

My daughter wears a Livestrong band that she was given by her well-meaning Girl Scout leader, and one she found that is multi-colored. I asked her what it stood for, and she didn't know, and said she didn't care, it was a wristband, and wearing them is in style.

To me, this is not much different than what happened during Lent this year. She struggled to figure out what she wanted to "give up" for Lent. I asked her why she was going to give up something at all, and she reminded me that it was Lent. I took that at face value, after all, she attends church pretty regularly, and perhaps her youth group was promoting it. She eventually chose to give up sour things including lemons and pickles, two of her favorite foods. Giving up these foods meant we could not serve one of our staples around here - chicken piccata which has lemons and capers.

After a while this Lent thing got old. Not because we couldn't have chicken piccata, but because when we did put pickles or lemonade on the table she would whine. Loudly. And remind us of her sacrifice. Loudly.

I asked her why, exactly, she was giving up something for Lent and if she could explain the religious reason for it. This must have been in a weak moment for her, because she answered honestly. She told me it had little to do with Jesus and was mostly because all of her friends were giving up something for Lent. Well, maybe not her Jewish friends, but most of the others were. It was something to talk (whine?) about at lunch - how they could not have chocolate or pickles or candy or whatever they had chosen to give up for forty days.

I saw this first hand during the girl scout meetings. It was especially noticeable when one of the most vocal girls chose to give up talking for 24 hours. Did you know that someone who doesn't talk can cause more noise than if she were talking loudly? Really, it is true. The person uses sign language (well her own made up sign language) and then all the other girls shout out what they think she is trying to say. Think charades. With 10 teenaged girls who are grumpy because they are giving up something.

Then there was the weekend of fasting where two of the girls (one was the girl who couldn't talk the week before) moaned about how hungry they were and gloated that they were making such a sacrifice for their beliefs. Of course then the rest of the non-Jewish girls whined about their own sacrifices. Loudly.

I write this mostly "tongue-in-cheek". Teens are teens. They quickly follow fads and drop them just as quickly. Maybe wearing various awareness bracelets "will" cause them to think about whatever charity they are wearing the bracelet for. Perhaps not now, but maybe when they are older and able to help out the cause in some way. Perhaps giving up things during Lent really does make them think about what Jesus sacrificed (or whatever the reason people give up things for Lent). It sure makes me think about it. I mean when they give things up. And moan or whine...

Come to think of it, I was a teenager in the 1970's. I wore a POW bracelet.



POW bracelets were the fad in the 1970's. Did all we teens wear them because we cared about the person whose name was on the bracelet? Sure, some did, but others of us wore them like we wore White Stag ski jackets, peace sign pendants and bellbottoms.

So I guess the moral of this entry is, times change, fads change, but teenagers don't. Really.

And next Lent, I am going to try to talk my daughter into giving up fads. Just for forty days.

Wish me luck.

Neil Gaiman, again

Living in the DC area, I was lucky in that Neil Gaiman had two scheduled events nearby on his book tour for Anansi Boys. Saturday September 24th he was at the previously mentioned National Book Festival and on Sunday, September 25 he was at a Borders Books in Northern Virginia.

I arrived at the Bailey's Crossroads Borders Books sometime around 7 pm for Gaiman's 7:30 reading and bought a copy of Anansi Boys with part of the birthday money I got from my mother-in-law. I doubt she would be pleased. From the looks of the crowd, it was obvious Gaiman was a science fiction writer. Lots of black clothes, pony-tailed men and a smattering of individuals who looked like their last event that day had been the Maryland Renaissance Festival. Either that or they were dressed as characters in Gaiman's graphic novels.

Another blogger, Puzzledance, and I planned to meet at the the event so I walked around the store for a while looking for someone wearing what she said she would wear. After a while I came to the conclusion that she had been one of the lucky few who got a seat and didn't want to risk giving it up to find me and we would meet up after the reading or had not gotten back from her dance camp event yet and would either be late or be not able to come. I finally found a spot behind the other Gaiman fans, but in front of a low table against which I could lean.

Gaiman opened with a few words about what would take place that evening, chatted a bit and then began reading from his book after telling us the "story so far". Because the sound system was a little wonky and I was tired, I decided to sit on the floor instead of stand. I also thought I may have given Puzzledance an incorrect phone number so I tried to check one of my gmail accounts to see what number I gave her, but I could not figure out how to do that on my Sidekick. (although I know it can be done, having done it in the past). As I was giving up on my email, I noticed a pair of shoes pointing at me and not towards Gaiman. I looked up and saw that Puzzledance had arrived.

We listened to the reading, but I left before the signing as I was #287 and didn't want to stay that long. I hear the signing went smoothly though, but am not sorry that I left. I think I may have had a literary burn-out last weekend as I over-indulged in authors. Is such a thing possible? I also think I was intimidated by the crowd. After all, I've only read a sprinkling of Gaiman's works, although I am quite a fan of his journal. I never feel quite comfortable actually talking to authors in person as they sign their books. First of all, I think I am somehow putting them out by making them write their name. Secondly, if I really like the author, I usually say something stupid and feel stupid. So, I saved myself from the possibility of being embarrassed by myself.

Hair Mayonaise, Grins, Awe. Obsessions and a Sullen Teen

My trip to the national mall yesterday to see several of my favorite authors was better than I expected in some ways, but worse in others. I saw four of the authors I planned on seeing, but missed most of the talk of one of them because my daughter was boredtiredcoldandfeelingsick and wanted to leave. Since the festival was sharing the National Mall with a large peace demonstration, it was much more crowded than in previous years.

It was a amazing to see John Irving. I'm not sure I'd ever seen him interviewed at all before, although did read the interview he gave for Pages magazine about his newest book that I am listening to on CD. I've loved Irving's writing since the late 1970's when I read The World According to Garp before seeing the movie. After reading that, I read all of his books, and immediately devoured each new one as it was published. I've only missed out on reading a few of his books. I lost interest in his style of writing for a few years, but began reading him again with Widow For One Year. It was a pure pleasure being under the same roof (OK, tent roof) as Irving.

I really should learn that obsessions are not contagious and should not try to drag others into them. My daughter loves to read but she cares little about seeing the authors who write the books she loves. And she cares even less sitting through book talks by authors she has not read. Combine that with being hungry and tired in a very crowded place and you have a slightly sullen teenager. She was funny about it though. She refused to try to push through the mass of people while I was listening to John Irving's interview and suggested I leave my semi-prime location to stand outside with her. She text messaged me several pleas, finally stating that she was tired, hungry, cold and "about to be trampled by peace ppl". Luckily that was at the end of the interview and we both found seats for the next author, Neil Gaiman.

I first heard of Neil Gaiman during my volunteer orientation for last year's book festival but since the name was unfamiliar to me, it didn't stick. At the festival itself, my daughter saw a book in the sales tent that she had heard of and wanted to buy. The book was called Coraline, but she didn't know the author. A few weeks later, at a book store, we tried to find Coraline, but it had been sold out at that store. The sales clerk wrote the name of the book and author, Neil Gaiman, on a sticky note. At Christmastime Clare put the book on her wish list. We were able to get the recording on CD for our drive to Illinois, and we all thought it a wonderful story and well read by the author himself. Since then I have been reading Gaiman's online journal and looking forward to his book tour so I could see him for myself.

Gaiman looked thinner and frizzier than I expected him to look. He seemed tired as well, but having read his latest journal entry it was understandable. He commented on the helicopters overhead and once stopped talking to make a remark about a very loud protester outside the the fiction and fantasy tent. "He's not going to make many friends that way." He also tasked a question asker with finding the answer to her own question regarding "hair mayonnaise" and posting it to the FAQ part of his web site. As excited as I was to see Gaiman, I was left feeling let down. Must be the day after Christmas phenomena.

After eating a lunch of pasta salad, vegetarian pita sandwich, cheese pizza, apple and free water, Clare was less interested in hearing authors talk than before. She began to complain in earnest. We decided to sit in the Teens and Children's tent to hear the author. Walter Dean Meyers, before Sharon Creech. It was good we did because the rain began just as we sat down. I was glad to see that author since Creech used him as a character in one of her books.

Dean and Andrew arrived (noisily and distractingly) during Mr. Meyers' talk. Clare decided to go to a museum with Dean while Andrew loyally sat with me. We got a front row seat (albeit on the ground) for Sharon Creech's talk. The highlight of my day was when she was being introduced. I must have had a big grin on my face because as she looked out at the audience, grinning herself, her smiling eyes met and held my eyes, and her grin widened. A small connection, but one that I'll remember for a long time. She was entertaining in her presentation, calling children from the audience to play out scenes in her latest novel for kids, Replay. The only disappointment was that she said she had a wrist injury. She said she had a wrist injury two years ago too when I was helping out with the signing lines. Perhaps she has a chronic injury and can only sign one book per person, but I briefly wondered if she made it up both times.

Andrew was hungry so we headed over to the food area where he got in a very long line for a piece of over-priced pizza. I ran over to the Children's tent to see Phyllis Reynolds Naylor, but was interrupted by a text message and then a phone call from Clare who claimed we had a deal to leave at 3:30, even if it meant I could not finish listening to Ms Naylor. While I would have liked to hear what she had to say, I was fine with leaving. I'd spent an afternoon with Phyllis Reynolds Naylor when she visited my daughter's school. I got to sit near her, help her with the autographing (I got to be Shiloh that day, stamping his pawprint in the books she autographed) and talk to her about writing. I think I she was pleasantly surprised when I told her I read and enjoyed her adult novel. I sort of tired of Ms Naylor after reading some of the Alice books and being uncomfortable about some of the material in them.

The trip home was uneventful except for one line overheard on the metro. A still psyched up middle-aged protester asked a young man what language he was speaking. He replied that he was speaking Russian. They discussed his visit to the US and she remarked that "we had a pretty good meeting down there today" to which he smiled and pointed at the anti-war slogan on her t-shirt. He then asked when the big protest was taking place. She looked taken aback and said that it was today. He smiled, shook his head and asked again. "But when is the big protest?" He got on the metro at the same stop we did so I am surprised he didn't see the throngs of protesters. Or perhaps he was joking with her. I thought it was kind of funny.

Clare seemed to feel guilty for dragging me away from the last speaker and was very chatty on the way home.

Below are a few photos I shot with my sidekick. They are all very low resolution.

The tiny speck on the right of the stage is John Irving. (the seated one)




This is Neil Gaiman. I think he forgot to use his hair mayonaise.




Here is Sharon Creech getting ready to call up audience members to play out some
scenes from one of her books.

National Book Festival

If someone gave me a choice to spend a day among authors or a day among famous actors I'd choose the day with authors without hesitation. Tomorrow is such a day. Tomorrow there will be more than 80 published authors in Washington DC between 14th and 7th Streets on about 12 acres of land.

Tomorrow is the National Book Festival on the National Mall.

This will be the third year I've attended, and the first year I didn't volunteer. The first year - 2003 - I got to see several of my favorite authors who write for children and young adults. It was a cold damp day but I was prepared with sweaters, gloves and raingear. I was lucky enough to be working with the signing tables, so saw these men and women up close. I also heard a few during their talks. I was not brave enough to talk to any of them - most were preoccupied with signing hundreds of books. I wished I had talked to Nancy Farmer whose The Ear, the Eye and the Arm was a favorite of mine when I was a teacher. Her line was the shortest and she was free for a few moments before the end of her designated signing period. I also got to hear Avi, Jane Yolen, Sharon Creech and R. L. Stine. I was surprised that Stine was the most outgoing, but maybe I shouldn't have been so surprised.

The second year, last year, was a beautiful day, however I had a less interesting job of picking up debris and straightening chairs between authors in the Children and Children and Teen tents. I was able to hear a few interesting speakers including Holly Black and Tony DiTerlizzi who co-wrote the Spiderwick Chronicles. Another interesting author was Richard Peck. He happened to be reading from his book The Teacher's Funeral. During his talk he claimed to have thought up the best opening line in the world for the book he was writing: Here Lies the Librarian which comes out in January 2006.

So tomorrow I will get to hear some of my favorite authors but not have to work. Here is my schedule for tomorrow:

I'll try to get there by 10 so I can go to the pavilions and maybe pick up one of the coveted Book TV(?) bags that usually run out by noon.

I'll head over to the Fiction pavilion close to 11:30 to get in line to get a seat for John Irving's interview at 11:50. Getting a good seat for him will be great since Neil Gaiman follows him at 12:40.

I will probably try to find a bite to eat, or eat a bag lunch I brought and then head over to see Sharon Creech in the Teens tent and then Phyllis Reynolds Naylor in the Children's tent. Finally, if I still feel up to it I want to see Jon Kabat-Zin.

Sunday night I plan on going to Virginia to see Neil Gaiman once more. So I guess this will be a literary kinda weekend for me.

If I dig a very deep hole, where would I end up?

If I dug a deep hole in my backyard,




I'd end up somewhere west of Australia, in the Ocean.

Pileated Woodpeckers

Went to bed late last night and didn't sleep well and got up early due to some volunteer work issues.

Decided to get some work for pay done early this morning when my husband called me upstairs to show me some "big red headed woodpeckers" in the neighbor yard. I assumed they were pileated, and was correct. What I didn't expect was to see four of them, three foraging on the lawn and one hammering on the nearby tree trunk.

I've seen several pileated woodpeckers in my life, and have seen up to two from my front porch (there used to be a dead tree kitty corner from our house where they may have lived). I had never seen four of them together though. I imagine it was a family, but I don't know the family dynamics of woodpeckers.

I pronounce pileated with a "long i", but most people pronounce it with a "short i". I once read in a Northern Wisconsin publication it should be pronounced with a "long i". Answers.com gives says both are correct:

pi le at ed (pi-'le--a-'ti(d) pronunciation also pi le ate (-i(t) adj.

It was a nice surprise on this morning of minor worries.

Globetechnology: Please -- it's LEGO, not Legos

I had no idea I was incorrect.

Forgive me LEGO. I won't make the mistake again!

(www.legos.com)