Sean has completed another semester at Crafton Hills College. Brianna is busy with school and work. Ryan has finished a year at a junior college!!!!! Opal (woof) is our dog. And Jerry is keeping busy and out of trouble by blogging *gulp* and posting on the internet *big gulp*.
Pam passed away suddenly at the beginning of July 2007. Pam we all love you and miss you.
..This is how the birth of Jesus Christ came about: His mother Mary was pledged to be married to Joseph, but before they came together, she was found to be with child through the Holy Spirit. Because Joseph her husband was a righteous man and did not want to expose her to public disgrace, he had in mind to divorce her quietly. But after he had considered this, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, "Joseph son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary home as your wife, because what is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit.
..She will give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus, because he will save his people from their sins."
Jesse was in Socal doing business. So, we met at Manny's about noon Saturday the 8th. Manny, Jesse, Ryan, and I went to the AMC at The Block at Orange to see The Golden Compass.
As of late, I see myself getting more fatalistic with age. Certainly not every life event is preordained.
But, alas the milestone events appear to happen without any way to stop, change, or avoid them.
Not every falling leaf, raindrop, sunbeam, tear, or smile is fated. But, those crossroad events seem immutable and beyond control.
What does it all mean? And where do I go from here? I chose to walk my life road with a mate.
And fate has snatched her from me. Plucked like a rosebud before coming to flower and full bloom.
No gloom, doom, or brooding temperament will I wear. I control the attitude, demeanor, and character of my life.
Though uncertainty, doubts and trials still await me; the road lay ahead with surprises and happiness yet to come.
But, does Fate intervene in life? Well, I believe so. The following is what I believe one could call Fate in one person's life.
New Abode
One day during World War I, Winston Churchill visited France as a volunteer to observe the fighting first hand. In his sandbagged shelter at the front line, he was brought a message from a visiting general, a former acquaintance, who wanted to see him. Churchill was instructed to walk to a crossroads some three miles away, where a car would meet him. After waiting at the crossroads for nearly an hour, however, he was joined by one of the general's officers. The car had been sent to the wrong crossroads, the man explained, and it was now too late for any meeting to take place. Churchill, understandably peeved, began the long haul back to the trenches in the dark; then, as rain began to fall, he produced a stream of silent invective describing the thoughtless general.
When he finally reached his camp, Churchill was astonished to find that his shelter had apparently disappeared. Five minutes after his departure, he learned, a shell had come through the roof, obliterating the structure and killing the man inside.
"Suddenly I felt my irritation against General X pass completely from my mind," he later recalled. "All sense of grievance departed in a flash. As I walked to my new abode, I reflected how thoughtful it had been of him to wish to see me again, and to show courtesy to a subordinate when he had so much responsibility on his shoulders."
Churchill, Winston Leonard Spenser (1874-1965) British politician and writer, First Lord of the Admiralty (1911-15, 1939-), prime minister (from 1940), Nobel Prize recipient (Literature, 1953) [noted for his remarkable eloquence and leadership ability; for his memoirs and letters; and for such works as The Second World War, The Great Republic : A History of America and My Early Life]
. . . never give in, never give in, never, never, never, never-in nothing, great or small, large or petty - never give in except to convictions of honour and good sense.
Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right, Because their words had forked no lightning they Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight, And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way, Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height, Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray. Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
I past a personal milestone on June 23, 2007; this was the donation of my 80th and 81st pints of blood. When you donate plasma you get double credits. (A unit if plasma is 800 mg. while a unit of whole blood is 1 pint or 450 mg.) The Blood Bank I donate at is Red Cross affiliated, so no payment is involved; but they have their Hall of Fame. The entrance way lists the donors that have donated 10 gallons (80 pints) or more of blood. As of yet my name hasn’t been mounted for display. But, there appears to be a blank spot above “Costner” that is waiting for yours truly. (By the way 10 gallons is not a big deal, the top two donors are listed at 83 gallons and 80 gallons.)
There is a bit of discomfort from donating plasma or whole blood. But through the years, I’ve known that somewhere my blood and now my plasma has been used to treat patients. So, whatever discomfort I’ve had has been worth it in order to help others in medical need. My last donation was the exception in regards to a donation just being a bit uncomfortable. The needle had to be repositioned several times but I didn’t complain about the twinges of pain. I would have felt more disappointment if I was forced into making a partial donation.
The donation process, at least where I go, is a bit more enjoyable. Each donation chair can be fitted with a portable DVD player. With a plasma donation lasting about an hour or more, the DVD player has been a fun option to past the donation time. And afterwards there is always the canteen for 15 minutes of Starbuck’s coffee, juices, cookies, chips, or trail mix.
This week I was at a school where I had been for about 3 weeks in December of 2006 and than January of 2007. A Mrs. T * who was a bilingual instruction aide happened to be in one of the periods I was covering. Mrs. T was a big help to me when I was covering (or more correctly containing) a Science class waiting for a permanent teacher to be hired by the school district. I asked about one particular 8th grade female student. I queried Mrs. T, “What high school did Jade * go to?”
Jade was a particularly difficult student, cute, but manipulative, a liar, and an instigator. At one point Mrs. T told me not to let Jade out of class for even a restroom pass. I personally was in a class where Jade told a male student to shove another student. Luckily, I can quell the most volatile situations. (Basically, Jade had sent a fellow Hispanic student across the room to shove an African-American student.) After getting an extremely agitated tall male student to back off, I ended up kicking both Jade and her minion out of class to the Vice-principal’s office.
Well, back to where Jade was, Mrs. T replied that Jade was pregnant and was currently attending community school. I wasn’t entirely surprised, but it was still quite a shock. Imagine a 13 or 14 year old girl pregnant. (Babies having babies.)
*(I’m using initials or pseudonyms for confidentiality.)
I have heard or witnessed some sad things in classrooms throughout the years. But, last week was a particularly sad example of the pressure that schools are being forced to use on students. When you substitute for Kindergarten, you are responsible for only half of the day. For example, I was responsible for the AM Kindergarten class and the PM Kindergarten teacher aided me in the morning. So, I end up aiding the PM teacher in the afternoon.
The PM class had a school district assessment (test) to do. Approximately twenty 5 year olds were divided into four groups that rotated between four different tasks. I could hear the PM teacher loudly chiding a small brown haired girl, Pansy *, “It’s because you don’t know your letter sounds!!! You’ll have to finish your test during recess!!!” I hope the frustration was situational and not personal. And I have no idea whether a poor test by a 5 year old casts a poor light on the ability of a Kindergarten teacher. But, all I know is that Pansy was in tears at recess.
The task was quite simple, the student was told to write a “story”. The “story” is not really a story but simply a sentence. In this case, Pansy was trying to write, “We like to read.” With year round school, this class had been in school since July. So, with two and a half months of instruction the district expected some writing ability to be demonstrated by Pansy. The PM teacher was on her 10 minute afternoon break. While I supervised the other Kindergarteners and helped Pansy complete her “story”.
The paper was blank. I drew blank lines for each letter and helped Pansy sound out the words. Pansy was able to write with some prompting - We like to _ _ _ _ . I’m been around enough classes to know what to do and how to help out. The PM teacher returned to help Pansy complete her “story”. And before you know it Pansy was tearless and happily peddling on a tricycle for the remainder of recess.
What was sad to me about Pansy was it forced me to think - I wonder when a child can simply be a child anymore? Education is being pushed to the limit. Our students are being forced to do more difficult tasks at younger ages. And teachers are forced to do more testing and less teaching.
Well, that was more or less my week. I hope you had a good week as well. GC
And Opal too. (woof)
