One down for the count

Like everyone else with school age children, I have been worrying about flu shots. The boys got seasonal flu vaccines during their annual physical last month but not the H1N1. Little lady hasn't gotten either.

But it may not matter. Yesterday evening, one little man developed a wicked cough and fever. At 4:00 this morning he graciously added vomitting to his list of ailments.

Last night, he wrote out the following schedule for his sick day.

1. have breckfist
2. get mom's cofe (coffee) and my skoan (scone)
3. eat the skoan
4. charg DS
5. play DS
6. tack a nap
7.

We'll see what #7 is.

First Train Home

I have a new singer I've fallen in love with. A legitimately new singer, one who wasn't recording in the 1980's. In fact she was in grade school in the 1980's.

Imogen Heap has me transfixed.

She has one song that has my daughter transfixed. She is happy when the song starts in the car stereo and has even taken to narrating the beginning.

[As the music starts my daughter says from the back]

"She's running down the street for the train...."
"She's in the station....."

Got to get on it sings Imogen.

"She MADE it! She's on the train" my daughter yelps triumphantly.

Got any new songs or singers you can't hear enough of?

Please join in Music Monday. Just remember if you play to use little Mr. Linky below, write a post about music and link back to me. Music always makes Monday a bit more fun.

"people of ill will use time"

This morning, I finally got to sit through an entire service at church. This fall has been spent teaching the middle school class. Today was my first "day off" since September and I relished the chance to sit in quiet, sing some hymns and reconnect with dear friends.

The two readings included one by Tony Kushner, the Angels in America playwright, and a excerpt from Martin Luther King's Letter from Birmingham. I took some liberties:

I had also hoped that the white straight moderate would reject the myth concerning time in relation to the struggle for freedom. I have just received a letter from a white straight brother in Texas. He writes: "All Christians know that the colored gay people will receive equal rights eventually, but it is possible that you are in too great a religious hurry. It has taken Christianity almost two thousand years to accomplish what it has. The teachings of Christ take time to come to earth." Such an attitude stems from a tragic misconception of time, from the strangely rational notion that there is something in the very flow of time that will inevitably cure all ills. Actually, time itself is neutral; it can be used either destructively or constructively. More and more I feel that the people of ill will have used time much more effectively than have the people of good will. We will have to repent in this generation not merely for the hateful words and actions of the bad people but for the appalling silence of the good people. Human progress never rolls in on wheels of inevitability; it comes through the tireless efforts of men willing to be co-workers with God, and without this 'hard work, time itself becomes an ally of the forces of social stagnation. We must use time creatively, in the knowledge that the time is always ripe to do right. Now is the time to make real the promise of democracy and transform our pending national elegy into a creative psalm of brotherhood. Now is the time to lift our national policy from the quicksand of racial all injustice to the solid rock of human dignity.

So to those of you who are silent as these ballot initiatives strip human rights - who chose not to speak out against the hatred towards gays, lesbians, transgender and bisexual persons, who attend houses of worship that ferment hate yet say nothing - you too are people of ill will.

"Education is not the filling of a vessel, it is the lighting of a...

flame.

William B. Yeats

For more Singular Saturdays go visit its new home at Finding My Way (aka MoJenn).

No Hobos II

My walk from the office to the train station takes me past a square that is a hangout for homeless adults. In the summer I wear large hats to protect myself from the sun. One man, with his paper cup outstretched, would often comment on my hats.

He hasn't been out on the streets for long. I started seeing him in the spring in a nice sweater and khaki pants. He stood straight with his clean teeth and would hold out his cup. He looked like a nice grandfather with his full head of white hair and sweet smile. But as the months wore on he is now in sweatpants and his hair is a bit more matted. One afternoon earlier this fall he had a black eye. When I asked what happened he told me he had fallen down.

After their day at the back-up child care center my kids and I were walking towards the station. The gentleman who compliments my hats was smoking a cigarette (a new habit I think) and talking in earnest with another man. He noticed me, promptly hid the cigarette and smiled.

"Where is a hat?" he asked.

"Nope. No hat today" I smiled sheepishly. "I have my kids though."

He said hi and asked them how the children were. I introduced them.

"Hi kids. My name is Patrick" he said.

We told him to have a good evening and walked on. One boy grabbed my hand and urgently said "Mommy?!"

"What?"

He pulled me down so he could whisper in my ear. We were at least a city block away from Patrick.

"How do homeless people go to the bathroom?"

Knock knock - hello? Maine?

Knock, knock. Hello, Maine?

Hi, I'm SMID and I live in Massachusetts which has had marriage equality for over 5 years.

Funny thing? Even after five years of gays being able to marry, the sky is still where it belongs. No four horsemen nor large swarms of bugs have descended upon us. Everyone's marriage - straight or gay - continues to be the business of the two people in that marriage.

Why, Maine, why couldn't you just do the same?

Maybe this piece from The Colbert Report explains it.

The Colbert Report	Mon - Thurs 11:30pm / 10:30c
Nailed 'Em - Mormon Church Trespassing
http://www.colbertnation.com/
Colbert Report Full Episodes Political Humor U.S. Speedskating

So really Maine is just another fearful, bigoted Utah. Why don't you move West. As one friend of mine says, you don't deserve the Atlantic Ocean.

No hobos

The kids were walking down a busy city street with me on their way to get my latte and their donuts. There was no school (yet another professional development day for the teachers) and I was taking them to my office to have breakfast in the meeting room then over to a back-up child care center for the day.

"I want to be a hobo for Halloween next year," announced one of my 9 year old sons as he held my hand. His brother was a few steps ahead while their younger sister was on my other side.

"No you can't," I told him.

"Why?" he asked. I knew my answer would appear in less than a city block.

The man emerged from one of the many nooks inside the buildings along this street. He wore a torn, dirty coat and his pants were too big. His beard was shaggy and filthy. His two bags bulged with their contents. He struggled to pick them up and moved slowly down the street.

"That's why you can't be a hobo" I told my son. "Hobo is an old-fashioned word for someone who is poor and homeless. Do you really want to poke fun at that man?"

"No" my son said quietly.

Unbeknownst to me his brother was overhearing this conversation. We passed another nook and this son asked "so homeless people try to find spots like this to sleep?"

"Yes" I answered.

And then we walked into the coffee shop.