Time goes by too fast. Too many moments zip by us, never to be experienced again. If we aren't aware, we may not realize how important certain events are.
Like lying in the grass, watching the lightening bugs twinkle and flit above you. Or rolling down the hill at Miller Outdoor Theater. Or running through the sprinklers. Or having a full team for kickball.
Those dusky summer evenings when adults sat in lawn chairs, and we ran around with water guns.
I can't get those back. They are gone...forever. Swallowed up into the gaping mouth that was Fall.
Just the word....Fall. It makes me nauseous.
Your hopes are falling. Your fun is falling. Your life is tumbling into an abyss of pencil, paper, "quiet water, still water", and math.
I think my mom forgot to tell me school was starting until she walked me to the bus stop. Maria was with us.
"Maria is starting Kindergarten today," Mom announces proudly and excitedly.
Maria is smiling, and I am looking at her like she has drunk the koolaid.
"And Kara is starting second grade."
WHAT?!!??!! Whoa, there. Slow down, boy! "What are you sayin', Mom?" I almost scream at her.
She raises a brow as if to say, "Deal with it. You'll be fine."
Oh, my Lord. It's starting again! Does it never end?
As a voice above me whispers, "No.", I realize there was nothing I could do about this hamster wheel I was on. They'd beaten me. I was a student, and I was going to school. No manner of wishin', hopin', or prayin' would change it. So, I might as well bear it.
I look down at my sister and see that hopeful gleam in her eye. She gazes up at me, unafraid because I am beside her.
Standing a little straighter, I decide I could handle anything for the sake of my sister. Even school.
Monday, September 17, 2012
Sunday, August 26, 2012
Thwarted Fun....Again
Pain, constant and crushing, resonates from my kneecaps up my thighs and into the small of my back.
Time ticks by as slowly as a caterpillar inching along a twig, and I groan inwardly, yearning for the chance to move back just a tad and relieve the pain in my knees. They are going to be bruised permanently, I know it.
I can barely see over the pew in front of me, but I know where we are in the order of the mass. We are only almost done with the "Christ Has Died" song. Ugh...
The priest says more words. We sing the "Amen" and, thank God, we can now stand up.
More words are said. I squirm and swish and sway back and forth, moving as much as possible before...God save me...we have to kneel again.
As I lower myself to the unpadded kneeler, I suddenly remember the compact mirror in my little purse. An idea forms, and the excitement of fun completely erases the pain in my knees. (Of course, they are probably numb.)
Pulling out the compact, I flip it open and lift my eyes to the ceiling. With any luck, all the adults will think I am praying to the Heavens.
As everyone processes to communion, I stay kneeling and watch the reflection of light from my mirror bounce over the ceiling of the church. I flick it from one side to the other, let it mingle with the reflections of the wine goblets, let it disappear into the light bulbs, and even go so far as to let it shine on the number boards.
My fun is quite short-lived. I mistakenly let my gaze stray to the choir where I find my father glowering at me from his seat. I snap the compact shut so fast the rush of air dries my eyeballs.
Because, in the words of the great Bill Cosby....
"My father established our relationship fairly quick. He said, 'I brought you in this world, and I can take you out.'"
And now the pain in my knees is ten times as worse as before.
Time ticks by as slowly as a caterpillar inching along a twig, and I groan inwardly, yearning for the chance to move back just a tad and relieve the pain in my knees. They are going to be bruised permanently, I know it.
I can barely see over the pew in front of me, but I know where we are in the order of the mass. We are only almost done with the "Christ Has Died" song. Ugh...
The priest says more words. We sing the "Amen" and, thank God, we can now stand up.
More words are said. I squirm and swish and sway back and forth, moving as much as possible before...God save me...we have to kneel again.
As I lower myself to the unpadded kneeler, I suddenly remember the compact mirror in my little purse. An idea forms, and the excitement of fun completely erases the pain in my knees. (Of course, they are probably numb.)
Pulling out the compact, I flip it open and lift my eyes to the ceiling. With any luck, all the adults will think I am praying to the Heavens.
As everyone processes to communion, I stay kneeling and watch the reflection of light from my mirror bounce over the ceiling of the church. I flick it from one side to the other, let it mingle with the reflections of the wine goblets, let it disappear into the light bulbs, and even go so far as to let it shine on the number boards.
My fun is quite short-lived. I mistakenly let my gaze stray to the choir where I find my father glowering at me from his seat. I snap the compact shut so fast the rush of air dries my eyeballs.
Because, in the words of the great Bill Cosby....
"My father established our relationship fairly quick. He said, 'I brought you in this world, and I can take you out.'"
And now the pain in my knees is ten times as worse as before.
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
A Carpenter
What was a concert with a name like "100% Chance of Rain" without a Noah?
Well, I can't tell you because we had one. He had a full beard, brown in color, kind eyes, wide hands, and a voice that poured like molasses.
Somehow my mom got him up on stage. His wife got him to build all the sets. It was quite impressive really. And real.
He has never sung solo since this concert. (Well, that isn't true. But I don't know how aware he was of the next time. For a later post...I promise.)
As we processed down the center aisle with our poster board animal suits slapping against our bodies, the melodious tones of his voice lifted through the hall. "Two by two" he sang.
It was the first time I bore witness to his kindness and generosity. He is an unassuming man, kind, but firm. He is the one behind the scenes, turning all the ideas my mom, Jo, and Grace had into things better than they imagined. All was done without complaint.
He will always be "Noah" to me, following God's word when no one else does.
He has only one flaw...he is a Steeler's fan. Well, in the Bible, Noah wasn't perfect either.
Well, I can't tell you because we had one. He had a full beard, brown in color, kind eyes, wide hands, and a voice that poured like molasses.
Somehow my mom got him up on stage. His wife got him to build all the sets. It was quite impressive really. And real.
He has never sung solo since this concert. (Well, that isn't true. But I don't know how aware he was of the next time. For a later post...I promise.)
As we processed down the center aisle with our poster board animal suits slapping against our bodies, the melodious tones of his voice lifted through the hall. "Two by two" he sang.
It was the first time I bore witness to his kindness and generosity. He is an unassuming man, kind, but firm. He is the one behind the scenes, turning all the ideas my mom, Jo, and Grace had into things better than they imagined. All was done without complaint.
He will always be "Noah" to me, following God's word when no one else does.
He has only one flaw...he is a Steeler's fan. Well, in the Bible, Noah wasn't perfect either.
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
Another Big Idea
So, Mom, Jo, and Grace did not stop creating after starting the nursery. Oh no, nothing could stop them now.
Their next big idea was a little thing called "Music and Arts Week". I am certain it was mostly Jo's idea, but Mom and Grace jumped on the creative, "be involved" bandwagon without hesitation.
It took place during the summer.......kill me now.
"Kara," says Mom, "there will be no whining. You are going to enjoy this and put a smile on your face, or there will be no outside when we get home."
This was an effective threat for me, so I pasted a big smile on my face and pretended the crafts, the music, and the "togetherness" were wonderful.
Jo was in charge of the lessons, and Mom was in charge of the music. We would rotate between different activities, making things for the big concert at the end of the week.
Our first program was called "100% Chance of Rain" and by the end of the third day, I was starting to genuinely enjoy myself. The music was awesome.
When we practiced for the concert, we did so on wood risers. I wore sandals so I could tap my feet to the music. The clacking sound echoed through the hall, and everyone could hear me keeping time to the song. I was quite pleased with the effect.
I also was chosen to play the xylophone for one of the songs. I felt pretty important, let me tell you.
With a theme like "100% Chance of Rain", you have probably guessed we were learning about Noah and the Ark. Part of our week was spent making costumes of various animals out of poster board, grocery sacks, and construction paper. We each got a partner and during the concert, processed down the aisle "Two by Two".
I was a turtle. I think Maria was a raccoon. I can't remember what Alex, Blossom, Georgie, and Jack were. Phillip and Roxi were rain drops. They were too young to be in the entire concert. So were Lela, Wendy, and Bill.
All in all, the week was a big success. By the end of it all, I thought this "big idea" was a pretty smart one. However, there was one unfortunate moment...
Mom made me wear tennis shoes during the concert.
Their next big idea was a little thing called "Music and Arts Week". I am certain it was mostly Jo's idea, but Mom and Grace jumped on the creative, "be involved" bandwagon without hesitation.
It took place during the summer.......kill me now.
"Kara," says Mom, "there will be no whining. You are going to enjoy this and put a smile on your face, or there will be no outside when we get home."
This was an effective threat for me, so I pasted a big smile on my face and pretended the crafts, the music, and the "togetherness" were wonderful.
Jo was in charge of the lessons, and Mom was in charge of the music. We would rotate between different activities, making things for the big concert at the end of the week.
Our first program was called "100% Chance of Rain" and by the end of the third day, I was starting to genuinely enjoy myself. The music was awesome.
When we practiced for the concert, we did so on wood risers. I wore sandals so I could tap my feet to the music. The clacking sound echoed through the hall, and everyone could hear me keeping time to the song. I was quite pleased with the effect.
I also was chosen to play the xylophone for one of the songs. I felt pretty important, let me tell you.
With a theme like "100% Chance of Rain", you have probably guessed we were learning about Noah and the Ark. Part of our week was spent making costumes of various animals out of poster board, grocery sacks, and construction paper. We each got a partner and during the concert, processed down the aisle "Two by Two".
I was a turtle. I think Maria was a raccoon. I can't remember what Alex, Blossom, Georgie, and Jack were. Phillip and Roxi were rain drops. They were too young to be in the entire concert. So were Lela, Wendy, and Bill.
All in all, the week was a big success. By the end of it all, I thought this "big idea" was a pretty smart one. However, there was one unfortunate moment...
Mom made me wear tennis shoes during the concert.
Sunday, July 8, 2012
Summer Activity
I rose at 7:00 every morning during the summer, and by 7:15 I had eaten and was heading down to Miss Holly's to see if her boys wanted to play.
I think I always woke her up...and the boys. Even though she stood there in her robe, with groggy eyes, I still asked, "Can the boys come out and play?"
Sometimes they were ready to go, but sometimes I had to wait. I would occupy my time by playing in the lot across the street. There were no houses on the opposite side of the street, which created a HUGE playground for all sorts of things.
The boys down the street, one was my age and the other was around Maria's age, helped cook up a bunch of great activities. They liked Star Trek, so I'm gonna call the older one Captain Kirk, and the younger one, Scotty.
Once Kirk and Scotty came outside, there was the world of kickball, Hide-and-Seek, Ghost-in-the-Graveyard, dodge-ball, four square, and hopscotch. Maria played with us because I made her do so. You can't really play these games with only three people.
We even turned the vacant lot into a series of underground tunnels...which would eventually be used to cover us during World War III. (That is for a later post.)
This is what I was meant for...gettin' dirty, organizing games, and livin' life.
Of course, my mother decided to infiltrate summertime with Music and Arts Week.
Ugh...
I think I always woke her up...and the boys. Even though she stood there in her robe, with groggy eyes, I still asked, "Can the boys come out and play?"
Sometimes they were ready to go, but sometimes I had to wait. I would occupy my time by playing in the lot across the street. There were no houses on the opposite side of the street, which created a HUGE playground for all sorts of things.
The boys down the street, one was my age and the other was around Maria's age, helped cook up a bunch of great activities. They liked Star Trek, so I'm gonna call the older one Captain Kirk, and the younger one, Scotty.
Once Kirk and Scotty came outside, there was the world of kickball, Hide-and-Seek, Ghost-in-the-Graveyard, dodge-ball, four square, and hopscotch. Maria played with us because I made her do so. You can't really play these games with only three people.
We even turned the vacant lot into a series of underground tunnels...which would eventually be used to cover us during World War III. (That is for a later post.)
This is what I was meant for...gettin' dirty, organizing games, and livin' life.
Of course, my mother decided to infiltrate summertime with Music and Arts Week.
Ugh...
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
The Beach Boys
I am not sure when it happened, but I was introduced to the music of Brian Wilson and The Beach Boys at an early age. (Bet you thought I was really referring to the actual beach and real boys in my last post. Come on! I am only in "almost" second grade!)
From the first moment I heard their sound, I was hooked. The melodies, harmonies, words...it was all good. I danced to their music, learned The Twist, The Freddy, The Jerk, The Monkey, and The Swim. I liked spontaneous dancing. Maria and Roxi, however...
"Kara, you are going to stand on the chair," Maria orders me. "You're going to wait for Jack to turn around and see you."
"Jack, you're going to stand at the fireplace," Roxi tells him, "and you'll use this for your guitar." She pulls the shovel from the fireplace tools. "We need sunglasses!" she exclaims and runs upstairs for the prop.
As I stand on the chair, Maria continues to give orders.
"When the music starts, Jack you turn around and play your guitar for a little bit. Then, when you see Kara standing on the chair, throw your guitar down and come over to her and lift her to the ground."
Roxi comes running in with the sunglasses. "Here, put these on."
"Roxi and I are going to stand on the couch, with our backs to y'all, and one foot pointed in the air." She demonstrates this, bending her leg at the knee and pointing her toe. "When the song gets to 'Some honeys will be comin' along', Roxi and I will turn around and jump off the couch. Then we'll all start doing The Twist."
Poor Jack. Georgie and Phillip were not with us on this day. He was relegated to these sorts of things as was I. I would've preferred to be playing with Lela and Wendy -- eating fake spaghetti was way better than doing a routine -- but we almost always made Maria and Roxi play outside, so...I guess it was only fair.
The music starts and Jack and I both do what we are supposed to, but Maria and Roxi just stand on the couch, with their toes in the air. Jack stops the record.
"Hey, y'all were supposed to jump off the couch," he reminds them.
"Right," Maria confirms. "Let's do it again."
So, we do it again. And the same thing happens. So, we try again. And again. And again.
Boy, Jack and I really got our part down that day. Maria and Roxi never turned around.
From the first moment I heard their sound, I was hooked. The melodies, harmonies, words...it was all good. I danced to their music, learned The Twist, The Freddy, The Jerk, The Monkey, and The Swim. I liked spontaneous dancing. Maria and Roxi, however...
"Kara, you are going to stand on the chair," Maria orders me. "You're going to wait for Jack to turn around and see you."
"Jack, you're going to stand at the fireplace," Roxi tells him, "and you'll use this for your guitar." She pulls the shovel from the fireplace tools. "We need sunglasses!" she exclaims and runs upstairs for the prop.
As I stand on the chair, Maria continues to give orders.
"When the music starts, Jack you turn around and play your guitar for a little bit. Then, when you see Kara standing on the chair, throw your guitar down and come over to her and lift her to the ground."
Roxi comes running in with the sunglasses. "Here, put these on."
"Roxi and I are going to stand on the couch, with our backs to y'all, and one foot pointed in the air." She demonstrates this, bending her leg at the knee and pointing her toe. "When the song gets to 'Some honeys will be comin' along', Roxi and I will turn around and jump off the couch. Then we'll all start doing The Twist."
Poor Jack. Georgie and Phillip were not with us on this day. He was relegated to these sorts of things as was I. I would've preferred to be playing with Lela and Wendy -- eating fake spaghetti was way better than doing a routine -- but we almost always made Maria and Roxi play outside, so...I guess it was only fair.
The music starts and Jack and I both do what we are supposed to, but Maria and Roxi just stand on the couch, with their toes in the air. Jack stops the record.
"Hey, y'all were supposed to jump off the couch," he reminds them.
"Right," Maria confirms. "Let's do it again."
So, we do it again. And the same thing happens. So, we try again. And again. And again.
Boy, Jack and I really got our part down that day. Maria and Roxi never turned around.
Sunday, June 3, 2012
It Continues
First grade is coming to an end, but school is not over. Oh, no. There is a second grade, and there is no reason to be excited about being promoted. I have no illusions this grade will afford me anything to look forward to.
There will be more work, more monotonous, mind-numbing work. I will have to walk in a line. I will have to be quiet. I will have to listen to the relentless droning of an adult who squeals, "Oh, look everyone! Suzy Q has discovered the letter A!"
We must all ooo and ahhh over Suzy. Every accomplishment will be celebrated no matter how irrelevant it is. The letter A? Really?
I just knocked a boy out of Crazy Dodgeball, and she wants to celebrate the letter A. What is the world coming to? I learned letters from Sesame Street. Now, let's get into the stuff that matters...stomping the boys out.
But, they aren't interested in female dominance. They think stickers are fabulous. "Here! Scratch-N-Sniff!" they cry with enough enthusiasm to turn Amelia Earhart's hair white...wherever she is. God bless her.
So, I continue on...to second grade. My infamous rebellion against turning in homework did not inspire anyone to expel me.
Thankfully, there is summer first. With the beach...and the boys.
There will be more work, more monotonous, mind-numbing work. I will have to walk in a line. I will have to be quiet. I will have to listen to the relentless droning of an adult who squeals, "Oh, look everyone! Suzy Q has discovered the letter A!"
We must all ooo and ahhh over Suzy. Every accomplishment will be celebrated no matter how irrelevant it is. The letter A? Really?
I just knocked a boy out of Crazy Dodgeball, and she wants to celebrate the letter A. What is the world coming to? I learned letters from Sesame Street. Now, let's get into the stuff that matters...stomping the boys out.
But, they aren't interested in female dominance. They think stickers are fabulous. "Here! Scratch-N-Sniff!" they cry with enough enthusiasm to turn Amelia Earhart's hair white...wherever she is. God bless her.
So, I continue on...to second grade. My infamous rebellion against turning in homework did not inspire anyone to expel me.
Thankfully, there is summer first. With the beach...and the boys.
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