Cookie Therapy

Think what a better world it would be if we all, the whole world, had cookies and milk about three o'clock every afternoon and then lay down on our blankets for a nap.
          ~Barbara Jordan 

 The shootings in Connecticut have hit me harder than any of the previous shootings and I can't put my finger on why. Maybe it is because there were beautiful little children who were victims, maybe because there were so many victims, maybe because it is also Christmas time... maybe all of it. But I find myself close to tears a lot these last few days. I have had to stay away from the TV because I can't stand watching the unending interviews with survivors, family members, political activists and pundits. The trappings and busy-ness of Christmas have seemed shallow and joyless.

Today I had a break from the grief of this national tragedy when my 4 year old grand daughter paid me a visit. She came so her Daddy could run some Christmas errands. We decided to bake some Christmas cookies!

Addie, it turns out, loves to help in the kitchen. She was excited to help her grandma and chattered excitedly the whole time. She hung in there to mix, roll out, cut out, bake and decorate a double batch of sugar cut-out cookies. I had purchased new Christmas sprinkles which she really, really loved. And most of all, she loved eating one.

We had a great time laughing, working, helping one another. She actually told me, "Grandma, I LOVE it when we help each other!"  I am still smiling now as I write this... she was a balm for my hurting heart. Just what I needed to remember the joy of Christmas again.

First step in the kitchen is ALWAYS WASH YOUR HANDS!

Then you gather your supplies...

and get the recipe and read it.

Addie demonstrates step 4:  "schmush it like this..."

and roll it like this.

And then you cut the cookies like this!

Look how many!

Frosting and sprinkles... the best part!

See how pretty!

Cookies and milk... YUM!

The Helpers

When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, "Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping." To this day, especially in times of 'disaster,' I remember my mother’s words, and I am always comforted by realizing that there are still so many helpers - so many caring people in this world. 
          ~Mister Rogers

It is incomprehensible to me that someone could shoot a child. That someone could shoot 20 of them is so far from anything I can understand that it leaves me unable to express what I feel. And I don't think I am alone.  Trying to understand this tragedy will result in many people giving their opinions on stuff like gun control,  mental health treatment, even health care in general and the state of our public schools. All of these topics are worthy of deliberation and perhaps they will  improve because of it. But none of the discussions will ease the pain we feel now, in the midst of the tragedy.
The families of these precious children must grieve for the rest of their lives. The soul of the community in which they lived has a huge hole in it. And it is Chrismas... the time that is supposed to be about joy and Peace on Earth. How can we even think about Peace on Earth when this kind of tragedy is so fresh in our hearts?

I have two thoughts:

First, the Nativity in Bethlehem was only part of the story. When Herod got word of the birth of a king he ordered all male children under the age of 2 to be killed. What followed was described as The Slaughter of the Innocents. When in Italy, we saw several vivid paintings that showed this-- and they were terrifying. The recent shootings of those children in Connecticut reminded me of them. And the images of frantic mothers trying desperately to protect their children. And the images of the hardened emotionless faces of the soldiers carrying out Herod's orders. The faces looked oddly familiar-- they resembled the faces we have seen on the TV. Evil exists today just as it existed then.

And second, if evil exists, what can we do about it? I refer you to the quote above from Fred Rogers, the late host of the beloved PBS children's TV show. He grappled tough subjects on his show in language that children could understand... and the quote above I think holds the key to what we can all do to promote Peace on Earth in the midst of this tragedy.

Simply put, we must look for the Helpers-- the people who rush in to help even in the midst of chaos, danger and tragedy. They are always there. As soon as the shooting occurred, a 911 call was placed and The Helpers began arriving. While there was no 911 in Herod's day, I suspect there were helpers who rushed in there too. We need to remember these helpers and assist them whenever we can-- remember the Salvation Army ringer you walked past at the grocery store? The spare change you kept to yourself could have helped that organization help others. Remember all that junk you tried to sell at a garage sale? Donating it to organizations like Goodwill help them help others.

We need to not only remember to help the official helpers, but we need to keep reaching out to others feeling pain or who are in need of help. That is, we too need to look for ways to become Helpers whenever and wherever we can. We can't change what happened in Connecticut. We can only help in limited ways - expressing our sympathies and sending our love and prayers. But we can open our hearts to people close around us and become Helpers for them.

If each of us worked to be Helpers in our own corner of the world, we would put meaning back to the ideas of joy and Peace on Earth.

Silent Night

Silent night! Holy night! 
Son of God love's pure light
Radiant beams from thy holy face  
With the dawn of redeeming grace,  
Jesus, Lord at thy birth,  
Jesus, Lord at thy birth.
          ~from "Silent Night", composed in 1818, words by Joseph Mohr, music by Franz Gruber

 

                                              

I can't sing Silent Night without getting all choked up. Even driving around in the car in the crazy Christmas shopping traffic, when the song is played on the radio I can't sing along. The song triggers so many memories of Christmases long ago...

I remember when my first baby was celebrating his first Christmas. He was eight months old. We had just moved into a big old house in an historic neighborhood-- our house was a "fixer-upper".  There was a Methodist Church within walking distance, so on Christmas Eve, we bundled the baby boy into his snowsuit and trudged off to church. Strangers there, we were greeted warmly, but every person we met directed us to the nursery-- everyone assumed we'd put the baby there during the service. I knew he'd scream bloody murder in there though, so I opted to take him into church. We sat near the back, so in case he cried we could make a quick exit.

He didn't cry. He was mesmerized by the lights. He smiled and gurgled happily on my lap. And when it was time to light the candles and sing Silent Night, he listened intently for a bit and then started to babble-- he was mimmicking the singing he heard. At 8 months old, my baby boy was singing.

I remember another Christmas Eve service where there were two boys. The youngest one was 3. Both were very excited-- and going to church on Christmas Eve had already become a ritual. So when we headed off in the car, this time to a suburban Methodist church, both of them were pretty wound up. Too wound up, it turned out, for a wiggly 3 year old boy. He couldn't sit in his seat. Scribbling on the bulletin only lasted so long. Next thing his parents knew, he was on the floor and had rolled under the seat. And almost nobody noticed because this service was in the early evening and was specifically designed for young families. The sactuary was full of wiggly three year olds, most of whom were also on the floor and under the seats...

As that service drew to a close, the candles were lit and the congregation began to sing Silent Night. The wiggly 3 year old crawled out from under the seats and stood in rapt attention. He "helped" light his mother's candle. He too sang along, as best he could, to the old Christmas hymn.

I remember only a few years ago not being able to attend Christmas Eve services because I was an emotional wreck. My divorce had been final for less than a week, and emotions were just too raw. My life seemed to have crumbled around me... and the pain was amplified by the season.

Only a year later I attended Christmas Eve services, this time with my new beau. We had never been to church together, so I was looking forward to it. My parents came with us, and it was a very special time. I remember distinctly choking up when it came time to light the candles and sing Silent Night-- I was so filled with gratitude for the change in my life and the new love I was discovering.

And so it remains. The song reminds me of my babies and the joy they brought to my life, and of pain and suffering when life took a sad turn, and of newfound love and joy. It reminds me annually of the blessings I have been given and the suffering that I have survived. It reminds me of another mother, so long ago, who also was given great blessings with her son, and who suffered immeasurable grief at his loss, only to discover his loss brought her new life.

My wish for you, dear reader, is that at some point this Christmas season, you are reminded of the blessings in your life. If you are trying to survive a painful time, I hope something during the holiday reminds you that suffering doesn't last forever, that there will be happier times ahead.

Mary did you know that your baby boy will one day walk on water?
Mary did you know that your baby boy will save our sons and daughters?
Did you know that your baby boy has come to make you new?
This child that you've delivered, will soon deliver you.

     ~ from "Mary, Did You Know" by Mark Lowry

(Grand)Parenting in the New Millenium

A mother becomes a true grandmother the day she stops noticing the terrible things her children do because she is so enchanted with the wonderful things her grandchildren do.   
          ~Lois Wyse

Facebook can be a nuisance, but it certainly has shrunk the world so that those who visit the site regularly can feel connected in a very new way. I tend to spend a portion of my morning on the computer, reading and answering emails, and reading many new Facebook entries. Now that I am not working every day (where I was surrounded by people to the point where getting work done could be hard!) I can connect with old friends, coworkers, and family daily. I don't feel isolated. Sometimes I can connect with strangers by reading a post that one of my friends shared.

Recently there have been some posts by young mothers on the stresses of being a parent. I found myself on another blog, written by a young mother, that wrote about how difficult it is to be a mom these days. The point this young mother was making was that too many new moms try to be perfect -- they work outside the home, and try to make life inside the home healthy, educational, nurturing mind and body. They try to cram in way too many activities and try to make certain their children have every advantage in life-- the perfect preschool environment, the perfect combination of physical and mental exercise, art appreciation, and on and on... She admonished mothers to realize that no matter what they did with or for their kids, if they loved them and showed it, they were going to be good moms. She did point out that today's mother is forging new ground in this area in that they are the first generation to have to make so many choices and to feel such incredible pressure to be a skilled parent, yet were finding themselves mostly outside the old circle of women (mothers, aunts, sisters, etc.) that used to help new moms parent.

As you can imagine, there were a few rebuttals from the moms of older generations! Some were a little rude, but there were references to Dr. Spock's how-to book on raising children that helped raise kids in the 50's and 60's, and there was the women's lib era where women had to choose between staying at home with the kids and going out into the work force. I suspect each generation of moms thinks that it must have been the hardest when they were in the trenches. I recently attended a baby shower where the older women in the group marveled at all the new gadgets. Comments like, "How did we ever raise our children without one of those??" come to mind. (And as an old L&D nurse, I do remember the days before epidurals... don't get me started on that!)

Here are my thoughts, as an aging mother and fairly new grandmother:

I don't think parenting is easy, no matter when it occurs or what tools are around to help. This is because we are connected to our children in such an intense way that no matter how much we try, nothing we do can be quite enough. A wise coworker long ago told me, "Barb, to be a parent is to feel guilt!"

It is only with the gift of grandchildren have I been able to put things in better perspective. As a grandmother, I do not feel the heavy responsibility of raising my grandchildren. This allows me to simply relax and enjoy them as the unique and delightful creatures they are! It also allows me to see that children need discipline along with love. Obviously this is a parent's job, if they are around. But when I'm alone with a grandchild who misbehaves it's my job. And because I am not with them all the time I don't feel anger when they misbehave. I can react with patience. I think this is what makes grandparents (or aunts or uncles or other special people) an essential in a child's life! And it is a challenge to those of us as grandparents to not try to "raise" the grandkids... just enjoy them and provide gentle discipline when necessary. We do have to mind our kids, too. That is, we can't do things with or for our grandkids that they would disapprove of.

The separation of extended families can make this difficult. It certainly does in my case, with 2 of my 3 grandkids living out of state. I often wish I lived closer to them not only so I can see them more often, but so I could provide more support to their parents. And that brings me back to the blog I read-- I have discovered there are many, many young mothers out there who are not connected geographically but who support one another through blogging and Facebook and other social media. Sharing the realities of modern day parenting with one another can provide such a sense of "I'm not in this alone..."

In the end, I think the idea that loving your children and doing the best you can to make them safe and healthy is really all that is essential. Children love their parents as intensely as their parents love them, and they don't really care if they don't get typing lessons. They just want to know they are loved and safe.  All those lessons and play dates and trips to museums are icing on the cake. And don't forget grandparents... we are important too!

A Dickens of a Christmas!

"What!" exclaimed the Ghost [of Christmas Past], "would you so soon put out, with worldly hands, the light I give?"
          ~Charles Dickens (1812-1870), from "A Christmas Carol"

  She had been decorating the house for three days. A Christmas "junkie", there were many decorations to put up, and every year she added a few more things. There were four trees in all, of various sizes. The largest, a 12 foot monster, stood proudly in the living room, bedecked in hand blown glass ornaments that had been collected over the years. It also held other keepsakes-- the painted egg from Poland her father brought her, the hand knit bell her grandmother had made, and other baubles given to her as gifts. A pair of fuschia feathered love birds had graced the tree since she had been married, a gift of her new step daughter.  Then there was the Santa tree in the family room, covered with mostly unbreakable figures of Santa-- she had collected these when her own kids were little, and some were gifts from them. Then there was the little tree in the kitchen that was covered in old cookie cutters and some handmade cinnamon ornaments. And finally there was the Travel Tree in the dining room, covered in ornaments gathered on trips taken with her husband.

The Travel Tree went up quickly, leaving only the table centerpiece to complete. That was always the same-- an advent wreath with four candles in the middle. Three purple and one pink-- the Joy candle. Long ago she had started this tradition... she was carried back to the United Methodist Church of her youth, when she and her family stood in front of the church one Advent Sunday and lit the candles on the Advent wreath. And then she remembered when her own family, including two small sons, stood together at the front of the church of her adulthood and lit another Advent wreath. That was when she decided to add the wreath to the family's traditions... and even now, when she was no longer a church goer and had no children at home, she continued to light the candles on the Advent wreath.

She shook her head and looked around the room... and it struck her how lucky she was to have had a family that had so many traditions. There in her dining room stood Grandma Elsie's hutch. On it was Grandma's crystal wine glasses, and Grandma Ruth's china.  The table was also Ruth's. The old Victorian light fixture was Elsie's. The old high chair in the corner had held 5 generations of her family. The chairs had been sat on by six generations. If she closed her eyes, she could see the hutch in Elsie's dining room, and hear the voices of her grandparents, her parents, her aunts and uncles, sibling and cousins, all laughing and sharing the holiday together. She could see it in her  own home, with her own children, their father and his family, gathered around it on Christmas Eve.

It struck her that most of this was gone... the people were gone from her life by death or divorce, and that the Christmas traditions of her past sometimes clashed with the reality of her present.  How odd it seemed that in the past life had been very difficult but Christmas had been so sweet-- almost a respit from the storm. Life in the present was wonderful-- so sweet in comparison. But Christmas sometimes was difficult. Her life and upbringing had been so full of tradition. The absence of some of that tradition was uncomfortable at times.

Then it occurred to her that just as Scrooge had clung to his old notions of Bah Humbug, and had needed to change, she too needed to change her thinking. She didn't need to hold on too tightly to Christmas Past-- she could remember it and cherish the memories-- and still move into the present and new experiences and traditions would come her way.  As she put the finishing touches on the table centerpiece she smiled. It was okay to keep the Advent wreath, but maybe next year she could try something a little different for the table?

I will honour Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year. I will live in the Past, the Present, and the Future. The Spirits of all Three shall strive within me. I will not shut out the lessons that they teach.
          ~Charles Dickens (1812-1870), from "A Christmas Carol"

An Attitude of Gratitude

Cultivate the habit of being grateful for every good thing that comes to you, and to give thanks continuously. And because all things have contributed to your advancement, you should include all things in your gratitude.
          ~Ralph Waldo Emerson

               

Last weekend was the Thanksgiving holiday weekend. Like so many others, I enjoyed cooking and entertaining family for a true feast-- turkey and stuffing and all the trimmings. I love Thanksgiving! Not just the food and family, but the whole idea behind it-- pausing for a day to be thankful for the blessings in our lives. It is a somewhat overlooked holiday too-- squashed between Halloween and Christmas. It has become the gateway to commercial Christmas-- look at how many of the stores opened on Thanksgiving evening to begin the Christmas shopping craziness. Black Friday has morphed into Gray Thursday...

The history of the holiday is well known-- the little band of Pilgrims who gathered with a much larger band of Native Americans for a harvest feast. It had been a long year with over half of the original Pilgrims dying. Some 250 years later, President Abraham Lincoln initiated the day as a national holiday-- amazing, given the nation was in the middle of a horrific bloody civil war. Both were trying times, yet the people stopped to celebrate their blessings.

I have been following with interest several friends on Facebook who have been diligently posting daily "what I am thankful for today" posts during the month of November. I like the idea of stopping each day and thinking of a different blessing, and then commenting publicly about it. I think that when one starts looking intentionally for things to be thankful for, it changes the perspective on life in general. It can be hard sometimes to develop "an attitude of gratitude". It requires reminders every day to think differently-- we have to remember to look for blessings.

Back in my days as a health care administrator I sttended a day long management meeting in downtown Indianapolis. These meetings were held quarterly, and for the most part they were an intrusion on my work time-- I had to be away from the office for a day and that meant the next 2 days would be double busy. However, at one of the events there was a speaker who talked to us about becoming intentionally thankful. His message was a simple one-- learning to acknowledge the blessings in your life can change how you see the world. It can change who you are in profound ways. But you have to learn it as a behavior and practice it every day. How to do that?

The speaker had a simple recommendation and I can tell you it works. He told the group that less than 1% of all cars made are yellow. Yup, yellow cars are the rarest. And he said that when you are out and about, if you see a yellow car you should immediately name something you are thankful for. Out loud! He told us that in his family, he has 2 small children. When they are driving around the children look for yellow cars. The first child to see one yells out something they are thankful for, and then the other child has to think of something else. Imagine driving down the highway and passing a yellow car, and having the children in the car yell out "I'm thankful for CANDY!" and "I'm thankful for our doggie!" Apparently they engage in a Thankfulness Competition of a sort-- what an idea!!

I have been using yellow cars to remind me to be thankful ever since I heard that speaker. I frequently find that I can name way more than one thing-- some days I have a very long list. But my heart is always lighter after I name them out loud-- taking even a second or two to acknowledge a blessing in my life can lift my spirits and make the day better.

If you are finding yourself caught up in the dreary days of winter, try looking for yellow cars and developing "an attitude of gratitude"... it just might help!

Happy Birthday, Sam!

Perfect love sometimes does not come until grandchildren are born.
          ~Welsh Proverb

Three years ago my oldest grandson Samuel made an early appearance on Thanksgiving night. He arrived earlier than expected, so Grandma was still home in Indiana when the call came. But she headed off to Maryland and arrived the day he and his mommy got home from the hospital.

It was love at first sight for this grandma... and still is. Watching him grow has been a thrill, despite how far away we live from one another. Sam is, quite frankly, adorable. He is all boy-- a little buster who loves to run and jump and throw... and his laugh is boisterous and infectious. He certainly has charmed his Grandma Barb!

I look forward to seeing him soon and wishing him a happy birthday in person, but because this is his day, I want to wish him a very happy third birthday!

Here are a few photos Grandma has of Sam over the years:

Newborn Samuel

Sam age 6 months at his christening

Sam age 9 months wearing the Michigan helmet hat!

Sam's first birthday-- and first taste of cake-- he liked it!

18 months old at Grandma's house-- trying on Daddy's shoes!

Second Birthday

Age 2 1/2 with brother Will-- our trip to the zoo wore them both out!

Almost 3... showing Grandma how to work her new smart phone...

 Grandma loves you, Sam!!

The Testing of Character

Nearly all men can stand adversity, but if you want to test a man's character, give him power.
          ~Abraham Lincoln

Our character is what we do when we think no one is looking.

          ~H. Jackson Brown, Jr. 

I have been thinking a lot about recent events and the response people have had to them. First of all, Superstorm Sandy came and left horrible devastation on the east coast of the US. I have lots of family, family-in-laws, and friends who live there, so as the storm headed towards shore I found myself riveted to the Weather Channel, praying that nobody would be hurt or lose their home.

The aftermath of this huge storm left so much damage, with flooding and homes blown apart. Power was out for millions. As time as passed, the problems have continued because power remained off for days and days and days-- for some it still is off. We forget sometimes how dependent we are on good electrical and gas power.  Weather turning cold has added to the misery.

And just last weekend here in the Indianapolis area there was a massive explosion that leveled two houses in a neighborhood and damaged 80 more, 30 of which have been deemed uninhabitable. It killed two good people-- a school teacher and her husband. The cause of the blast has not been determined, though it is presumed to be some kind of gas leak inside the house (the furnace is the best guess at this point). While the devastation was not of the scope of the superstorm, it was right here where I live, which made it significant to me.

How people respond to these events has prompted many stories on the news and the internet. There have been stories of looting and people losing their tempers on TV...  But for the most part, the stories have all been about people reaching out to help one another. Here in Indy, stories of neighbors rushing to the explosion and dragging people out of burning homes to save them... and on the east coast stories of people volunteering to make and pass out hot meals at shelters, donating clothing and supplies, donating blood. First responders who risked their own safety to rescue people who didn't evacuate.

I just read a story on the Internet of one family in New Jersey who had a camper trailer that they used in the summer that apparently escaped  damage in the storm. They offered it up as a shelter for anyone who needed it, and a family of three, including an 8 year old little girl, literally moved into the camper. Their home had been completely destroyed in the storm.

Then, we hear stories of infidelity on the part of the CIA Director and several generals in the US Army. The stories have been all over the TV and newspapers, and have portrayed a picture of men who thought on some level they were invincible and could do anything they wanted.  These men were hugely successful, climbed to positions of power, and it went to their heads. How often have we seen this happen?

These two versions of human character-- the one version where people overcome adversity by forgetting their own welfare and help others, and the other version where people achieve prominence and power and lose it because they focused only on their own welfare and pleasure-- provides us with a valuable lesson. If you believe that character defines the greatness of any human being, then you must look beyond money, position and power to what lies within (and I am including myself in this-- important introspection!). And one sure way to find out what is within a person is to see what they do not when adversity strikes, but when they think no one is looking... And what do I do when I think no one is looking??

A Thank You to our Veterans!

In war, there are no unwounded soldiers.
          ~Jose Narosky

When our perils are past, shall our gratitude sleep? 
          ~George Canning

Today Lanny and I had the incredible honor of participating in the Veterans' Day Parade in downtown Indianapolis. Lanny was asked if he would be willing to drive our 1950 Studebaker Champion convertible in the parade, carrying 3 World War II veterans who had participated in the Indiana Veterans' Honor Flight project. I drove downtown with him, then was able to watch and photograph the parade from the sidelines while Lanny drove the car.

The Indy Veterans' Honor Flight project was formed to help get World War II vets to Washington, DC so they could see the monuments built in their honor. These brave men and women returned from war 65+ years ago, and did not seek glory or fame in their service. In fact, many of them did not or could not speak of their war experiences for many, many years. Instead, they went to work to build our nation and raise their families. Over time, the stories of these brave men and women began to become known. And with the recognition, there was an awareness that they are aging and we are losing them over time. They saved the world from Hitler and Japan, and deserve to tell their stories and be recognized for their sacrifices...

The day was warm and clear. The sun was bright. It was a perfect day for a parade! We parked Ruby (the Studebaker) at the Armory downtown, where 3 aging vets climbed in the car. There were 3 other Studebakers, one loaded with women vets, and the other two with more men. Girl Scout and Boy Scout troops accompanied the 4 cars on foot, carrying poster sized photographs from World War II of vets that had been taken on an honor flight. We had photos from WWII of the three vets in our car-- the changes over 65 years were pretty profound. The shining young faces in uniform scarcely resembled the old folks in the car... except for the smiles, of course!

The parade is huge-- it literally stretched for a couple miles, and took over 2 hours to pass by. I saw floats from VFW posts, more carloads of vets from all the more recent wars. There were veteran group bands, high school bands, motorcycle veteran groups, vets on foot, riding in the back of trucks, a group of vets driving Vettes (that is, a fleet of Corvettes driven by vets!), as well as kitschy groups like the Indianapolis Police Motorcycle team (who perform syncronized motorcycle stunts), a human flag and the Shriners Murat Flying Fezzes (a group of Shriners who drive this silly biplane looking contraption that is on a car chassis...). Lots of music, lots of color, lots of fun.

a Veterans' Band

The Human Flag

Broadripple High School Marching Band

A Veterans' Honor Guard Motorcycle group

Submarine Veterans' float

But there was also a serious side to all this. I stood on the street next to four men wearing hats and sweatshirts that indicated they were vets:  two from the Navy, one from the Army, and one Marine. Time and again people stopped to tell them "Thank you for your service!"  One woman, who was marching with a USO group, came over to shake their hands and said, "We are in the presence of greatness when we shake the hands of people such as you four..." People on the sidewalk watching the parade often yelled "THANKS!" out to vets who were marching. Many spectators, especially little kids, were waving flags.

It was a day to celebrate and to remember and to thank those who have served. It was a good day!

Cultivating wisdom

Education is the cultivation of wisdom and virtue. In deciding how to accomplish this with our own children, we would do well to see how it was done in a time when wisdom and virtue were more prevalent than in our own. 
          ~Martin Cothran, in a blog at http://www.memoriapress.com/articles/founding-fathers.html

While in Italy, Lanny and I marveled at the scope of subjects we saw in the art we viewed. The art was seen not only in art museums and galleries, but also in churches. Especially at the huge museum at the Vatican, we saw masterpiece after masterpiece, whose subjects were not just religious ones. Many were about Roman or Greek mythology, or political figures. What surprised us was the knowledge the artists had of classical Roman and Greek subjects. Even the Sistine Chapel, which has long been considered a sacred Christian masterpiece, has classical nudes and sibyls scattered across it. Michelangelo's work required a detailed knowledge of Biblical stories, and his portrayal of each character required an understanding of the philosophy and theology and politics of the time in which he lived.

The ceiling frescoes of the Sistine Chapel, painted by Michelangelo in 1512.

 In another area of the Vatican we walked through several rooms that had frescoes painted by Raphael. He had been influenced by Michelangelo's work in the Sistine Chapel, which was underway while he painted this fresco, and most of the subjects were given to him by the pope who commissioned the work. One of the works, entitled The School Of Athens, had a classical subject that referred directly to Greek philosophers and mathematicians. To paint this required a good knowledge of Greek philosophy and mathematics.

The School of Athens fresco, painted by Raphael

                          

Bernini, who sculpted about 100 years later, used many Greek mythology subjects for his sculptures. We found his sculptures to be incredibly beautiful... touching expressions of the Greek stories they represented. One of the most beautiful is the sculpture Apollo and Daphne, depicting the god Apollo as he attempts to grab the young woman Daphne to take her for his own. As she tries to escape, she cries out to the gods for help, and their response is to turn her into a tree. The sculpture captures the moment Apollo finally is able to touch her, but it is also the moment she begins to become a tree-- leaves are growing out of her fingers, her legs are beginning to grow roots. Of course the subject required a knowledge of the myth...

                     

The common thread in all of these masterpieces is that the artists all received a classical education, that included learning Latin and Greek,  literature, music, art and philosophy. Mathematics and  science were also learned. They didn't just study how to paint or how to carve marble.

I was reminded of this during the recent election. Public education was an issue that was discussed locally. Everyone agrees that education is important, but there are vast differences of opinion on what exactly that education should look like.

Without arguing any particular political points, I want to make a pitch for including more of the "classics" in our public education. Lanny and I wondered aloud if creating anything even close to these works is possible today, given our emphasis on "practical" education. We have heard people advocating for years a return to "readin', writin'. and 'rithmatic". Philosophy is viewed with suspicion. Art, music, classic literature are seen as frills and unnecessary. I disagree! All of these subjects are important, and indeed, exposure to the classics can expand a young mind to appreciate the beauty in them. And I would make the case that without exposure to the classics, creativity is diminished and our world becomes a more narrow and rigid place.

Writing this blog, I did some surfing on the internet about "classic education". I learned that the founding fathers of our country were classically educated. They all knew at least some Greek and Latin, most spoke other languages. They knew philosophy and mathematics. They had read classic literature. And that is how they were able to shape the concepts that became our unique form of government.

So, as we continue the debate about what public education is going to look like, let us remember the importance of including some of the classics. Let us remember how studying these subjects enriched the lives of some very creative people, and fostered new, creative ideas. We can do better than just training people for skilled jobs. We can teach them as young people to think creatively!! If we can do that, solutions to many of our society's problems should be an easier task.

Voting then and now...

I had the good fortune to be able to right an injustice that I thought was being heaped on young people by lowering the voting age, where you had young people that were old enough to die in Vietnam but not old enough to vote for their members of Congress that sent them there.

          ~Birch Bayh

                

This morning Lanny and I got up a little early and headed over to our polling place where we both did our civic duty and voted. We have been bombarded for weeks with political ads on TV from both political parties, and often the races have been almost mean-spirited. There have been accusations and half-truths (or worse) hurled by both sides at one another... till we have been sickened by it. However, it would never dawn on either of us not to vote. It is the most important duty of each citizen, one that must be guarded closely to protect our democracy.

When we went to sign in, there was a young woman right in front of us. She handed over the mandatory photo ID-- in her case, a driver's license. It had a different appearance than Lanny's and mine, and the poll worker commented on it. She pointed out that it was different because she was not yet 21. This made me realize that this must be the first time this young woman was going to vote for President of the United States. "Good for her!" I thought. And then my mind wandered back to the first time I voted for President...

It was in 1972. I was a junior at the University of Michigan. The voting age had just been dropped to 18 from 21, so I was able to vote. It was also the first time that students were allowed to register and vote in the area where they lived at school, rather than at the place where they had lived with their parents. In Ann Arbor, Michigan, there were suddenly 40,000 more people who were deemed eligible to vote in 1972, and the polls were not prepared.

Ann Arbor, and indeed all of America, was a very different place back in 1972. The big issue that year was the Vietnam War. Sharply divided about this issue, Richard Nixon was running as the incumbant. George McGovern was the Democratic candidate who ran on an anti-war platform. He was considered a pretty extreme liberal candidate, and had the majority of student votes that year. At the time of the election, the Watergate scandal had occurred but was not yet the big issue that it would go on to become.  Ann Arbor, having all those students, was a hotbed of antiwar activity. And, to add to the intensity of the time, there were actually 2 students running for seats on the City Council. 

To get out the student vote, there were volunteers who drove students to and from the voting locations, which some thought were placed in the most inconvenient locations to discourage students from voting. I was taken to the polls in a Rainbow People's Party multi-colored VW van, along with a half dozen others, by a hippy who was the brother of a local radical left hero, Pun Plamondon (and who was in federal prison at the time of the election!).  When I got there, the line was long. I waited for about 2 hours to have my 2 minutes in the voting booth, the line full of students like myself. And I voted for McGovern... who lost. In fact he lost so bad the only state he carried was Massachusetts. A landslide for Nixon. But, those 2 students running for Ann Arbor City Council won, and served for several years, giving the students access and a voice in the governing of the city in which they lived.

I have voted in many elections since then, but I will always remember that first time. I hope the young woman we saw remembers her experience today. It was certainly not as unusual a setting-- no hippies, no anti-war demonstrators. Just citizens from our local area waiting patiently to express themselves in the voting booth. Having a say in how this wonderful experiment in democracy is going to run for the next four years.  It is a privilege and a duty of all citizens. It is what makes our country the envy of the world. I remember being proud to vote in 1972, and that feeling of pride has only increased over the years. 

 

God Bless the United States of America!!

Stories from Italy: Poor Pauline!

As bees their sting, so the promiscuous leave behind them in each encounter something of themselves by which they are made to suffer.
          ~Cyril Connolly

Good girls go to heaven, bad girls go everywhere.
          ~Mae West, Wit & Wisdom of Mae West

                                                         

 Marie-Pauline Bonaparte Borghese was born into a large French family in the late 18th century. Her father was a lesser nobleman, and when he died the family was left destitute. There are stories that Pauline and her mother had to make money taking in laundry.

Pauline was the younger -- and favorite -- sister of Napolean Bonaparte. As he rose to prominence in the French army, he assisted Pauline in entering society. He arranged her first marriage to another Frenchman, General Charles LeClerc. They had one son, Dermide. As Napolean's military career advanced and retreated, so went Pauline's life. She was apart from her husband most of the time, and was at times in physical danger because of all the warring that was going on. During this time, Pauline began taking lovers at a rather astonishing rate, despite her contracting Yellow Fever. When her husband, Le Clerc, died, she rebelled at the protocol of mourning to the point where her brother, now Emperor, felt it necessary to find her another husband quickly. He again arranged a marriage,  this time to Camillo Borghese, 6th Prince of Sulmona, a wealthy Roman noble. Indeed, the Borghese family in Italy was similar to the Vandberbilts in the US. They were rich, powerful, friends of the Pope and nobility.

Pauline continued her lifestyle of parties, excessive luxuries and paramours at such a legendary pace that her husband left Rome and took up residence in Florence with his own mistress. Stories of her exploits are legendary. She posed for the statue below, which then was prominently displayed at the Borghese villa, much to the scandal of society. When asked by someone viewing it, "Pauline, were you not uncomfortable posing for such a statue?" she replied, "Why no! The room was perfectly warm!"
                                              

                           

 

Pauline's son died before adulthood, and she died a fairly young woman. She was estranged from her husband, given only one apartment in Florence in which to reside (the Borghese family had homes all over Italy, including a villa next to the Vatican and a huge palace elsewhere in Rome). She was rebuked by society for her promiscuous behavior. At her death, only her brother, out of power and in exile, was close to her. A beautiful young woman who rose from poverty to attain more worldly goods than most died an outcast. 

While in Florence, our tour group was treated to a "Renaissance Dinner" in Pauline's apartments. The dinner was delicious. There was entertainment in the form of Renaissance music (flute, harpsicord and other tympany). And the setting was the beautifully maintained early 19th century apartments, complete with guilded ceilings and exquisite crystal chandeliers (now electrified for safety...). We were told the story of Pauline after dinner, having dined in what was her boudoir.  Here are a few photos from that evening...

 

The jester came around with various games and tricks, and engaged a lot of us in pranks to the amusement of the rest of the group.

Look above the mirror on the wall to a large dark window. There is a balcony up there. The story is that when Pauline entertained her lovers (remember-- we ate in her boudoir...) there was an orchestra up there that played, but they were to keep the curtains closed so no one in the orchestra would know who that evening's paramour was!

Carrying in the meat entre to much fanfare