A Reading Story Chapter 4

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After I had exhausted every book I could get my hands on that mentioned a girl named Betsy, I read the whole series of Oz books. The earliest ones I read had belonged to my mother. This one, my favorite, was a Christmas present when I was 9. I usually received a book on Christmas, and it was generally my favorite present.

Ozma was a princess, long before Disney princesses ran rampant over the culture. She was brave and good and kind. Better yet, she was able to recognize creatures that had been turned into stone by the evil witch. She then could touch them and they would spring back to live. This was very encouraging to me and I read those sections over and again.The Oz books were the only pure fantasy I enjoyed. In general, I liked books about real children.

I am writing this series of entries in the hopes that my readers will think back about their own reading lives. I enjoy hearing about what people are currently reading, but I often wonder what they read as children.

Tomorrow we meet resourceful English children.

A Reading Story Chapter 3

~ Elizabeth ~ Leave a comment

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The books I began with in first and second grade all centered around little girls named Betsy. My nickname is Betsy, and it was a popular name in the late 1940’s. McCall’s magazine had a Betsy McCall paper doll each month. There was a Betsy-Wetsy doll, source of much teasing. But best of all there were two series, one beginning with B is For Betsy written by Carolyn Haywood.

The illustration is from that book and actually looks a great deal like me at age 7, with two long braids, saggy socks, and saddle shoes. I never had a purse, however. Better yet, at that time we had a black cocker spaniel named Cinder. The Betsy books didn’t have any more exciting plots than the Dick and Jane ones, but they had long and interesting sentences. And of course, the central character was named Betsy!

The other series with a central character named Betsy started with Betsy and Tacy, written by Maud Lovelace. The one I loved better was Betsy,Tacy and Tib when one of the girls gets diphtheria and has to be quarantined. While diphtheria had been conquered with a vaccine when I was young, polio, measles, mumps, chicken pox, scarlet fever and rheumatic fever were constant presences in elementary schools. The idea of being quarantined was very familiar, and I liked seeing how friends retained their connection through it.

There was no television in my home at that age, and reading took me outside of my own family and neighborhood and introduced me to wonderful other characters. Rather like keeping a blog!

 

 

Prayer for Our Nation In Transition

~ Elizabeth ~ 5 Comments

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Our priest, Fr. Thomas Gallagher OFM, wrote the following prayer for us to recite antiphonally on Sundays.(Each side of the congregation takes turns reading a section. Then we read the last two lines together.) I find it very soothing and inspiring, so with his permission I have copied it for you.

Blessed Are They

BLESSED ARE THE POOR IN SPIRIT:

     the marginalized,

     the sinner,

     the person who does not fit in,

for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

BLESSED ARE THOSE WHO MOURN LOSSES:

     of love, of freedom, of dignity,

     of home–the refugee,

     of identity–the exile

for they will be comforted.

BLESSED ARE THE MEEK:

     the unseen, unappreciated worker,

     the physically, emotionally, spiritually abused,

     the one who is bullied,

for they will inherit the land.

BLESSED ARE THOSE WHO HUNGER AND THIRST FOR RIGHTEOUSNESS:

     the one who teaches through deeds of compassion,

     the one who stands in solidarity with the marginalized,

     the peaceful protester,

for they will be satisfied.

BLESSED ARE THE MERCIFUL:

     the one who opens doors, hearts, minds,

     the one who forgives,

     the person of hospitality,

for they will be shown mercy.

BLESSED ARE THE CLEAN OF HEART:

     the one who holds no grudges,

     the visionary,

     the one who welcomes the least one,

for they will see God.

BLESSED ARE THE PEACEMAKERS:

     those who strive to create a space for others to be at home,

     those with the vision to see from another perspective,

     those who accept forgiveness,

for they will be called children of God.

BLESSED ARE THOSE PERSECUTED FOR THE SAKE OF RIGHTEOUSNESS:

     those who remain faithful to love despite opposition,

     those who hold space for others to become themselves,

     those whose witness speaks truth to power,

for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

YOU ARE THE SALT OF THE EARTH.

YOU ARE THE LIGHT OF THE WORLD.

A Reading Story Chapter 2

~ Elizabeth ~ 3 Comments

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After suffering through the reading experience at Collins View School, we moved to a new neighborhood with a public school which resembled, because of its small size and homogeneous upper middle class student body, a private school. The kids were still struggling with reading, however, but this school assigned us all to small groups with cute names of birds. This, I suppose, was to protect us from the sting that would have come if they had called them: advanced, regular and slow. However, everyone knew which bird was which!

This might have been an improvement, but the little groups still read out of books found only in schools called “readers.” They should be called “make you never want to readers,” since they were excerpts from longer books and little moralistic stories. So I was able to read faster, but the material was still simplistic. And even in 3rd grade I knew it was almost as stupid as Dick and Jane.

Thank goodness my mother was a total devotee of the public library. She took us to the local bookmobile weekly and we could take as many books as we could carry. (I still check out books the length of my arm.) Sometimes we went DOWNTOWN to the huge library with a whole room just for children’s books. I immediately had the ambition of reading every book there.

What was I reading in those years? I will explore that tomorrow.

A Reading Story Chapter One

~ Elizabeth ~ 8 Comments

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I decided to write for a few entries about my reading life, and I found this hilarious photo among my collection. Here we are camping in the Oregon woods, and my parents have put my potty chair on the ground for me to use. I have no idea if they dug a little hole too! I thought that was a pretty creative way to go camping and do potty training at the same time. And they have handed me a book to pass the time.

I learned to read on my own at a very early age. Somehow linking those squiggles to meaning came naturally to me. That same ability exists in some of my family members and is completely absent in others. But it wasn’t anything I had to work at, and I have no idea how it happened.

I faced a real problem when I entered first grade and the teacher was handed the task of teaching 25 kids how to read. We used the Dick and Jane primers, and during reading time that was the only material available to me. Not only are the Dick and Jane books totally stupid, they are very short and I would finish the entire one in a couple of minutes. All around me kids were on page one sounding out J-a-n-e. I hadn’t learned to read using phonics, and the pace made me extremely restless. Finally, out of desperation, Mrs. Brandt let me go in the back of the classroom and listen to records very very quietly.

Here’s kudos to a teacher who recognized a little girl Withering Away With Dick and Jane.

Living With Animals

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Little did I know when I met this goat as a 5 year old that I would eventually end up with a goat of my own. When I was a young nursing mother, a student who was grateful for my teaching, gave me a milk goat. That year seems in my memory to be endlessly about milking, either by my baby or by me! I learned to make goat cheese and goat yogurt and drink goat milk. Sadly, that goat was attacked by a pack of wild dogs and didn’t survive, despite the best vet care and home nursing. But I was heartsick when she died since we had formed a genuine bond over our milk supplies.

Animals have always been part of my life, and we currently have a female Australian Shepherd, acquired near Easter, named Grace. She fends off the mailman and threatens the U.P.S. driver with her fierce barking. But while she keeps strangers away, she is totally welcoming to anyone we invite into the house. She loves ice cubes and comes running when I open the freezer door, hoping I will drop one.

I thought about getting a puppy a few months ago, and I swear Grace read my mind. She suddenly became very attentive, following me around the house and resting at my feet. I certainly got the message that she was convinced that I only needed one dog–her. So no puppy for the time being.

I don’t know if Donald Trump has a dog, so I am waiting to see. Animals have a calming effect on us, and it seems to me that he often needs to calm down.

 

Gym Friends

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When I was little, all the kids in the neighborhood were boys, so boys were my playmates. Now that I am going to the gym twice a week for training in strength and balance, I am surrounded by a diverse assortment of other friends. This morning I looked around at us all doing different routines–some on big balls, some heaving little balls into the wall, one man bending forward with a stick behind him to keep his spine aligned, one young man jumping up and off a stool–and realized we all looked crazy! I remarked to the young woman next to me that if someone walked in they would think we were nuts.

It’s great to have friends around me when I go to the gym. These aren’t close friends, more like acquaintances, but we encourage each other in our progress, whether fast or slow. The age range is wonderful from 18 to 86 among the people I interact with. Most of us are working programs to strengthen our muscles. Right now no one is obsessed with losing weight, which makes it a very comfortable atmosphere for the wide range of bodies going through their exercises.

I have stopped comparing myself to anyone else at the gym. I have come instead to truly appreciate the people who are committed to their health, as am I. Most of us have torn this or that and have to baby this or that. But we work around whatever body part is protesting any given week and keep coming.

Sometimes when I am there, I remember playing with Dude, Skipper, Jack and Jim in the early 1950’s. I was active and happy to be climbing, swinging, and running. It is wonderful to have some of that joy returning these many years later in my local gym.

Honoring Reverend King Jr.

~ Elizabeth ~ 3 Comments

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There is deep dissonance in the United States between the celebration today of the Reverend Martin Luther King Jr. and this week’s inauguration of our President-elect. King preached the power of non-violence, hope, compassion, truth and unity. Our President-elect promotes himself  by denigrating others. He seems to admire bullies and uses violent words to attack anyone who disagrees with him.

Many people remain unaware that King was an adamant opponent of the war in Viet Nam, and many speculate that it was this stand that most troubled the military establishment. At any rate, he truly believed the Gospel, and it was his faith in Christ that gave him the strength to speak truth to power even as it cost him his life.

I honor him today by refusing to succumb to despair in the face of open hostility and contempt for many of the values I hold dear. I don’t know what I may be asked to do in the years ahead to combat the ugliness now dancing in the open. But, as we sang in church yesterday, “Here am I Lord, I come to do Your will.” That seems to me to be the best way to honor Reverend King.

Hospitality

~ Elizabeth ~ 7 Comments

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I used to think that hospitality involved dinner parties, such was my limited understanding of the concept. So I thought that I didn’t show hospitality since I didn’t like dinner parties. Then a couple of months ago a fellow parishioner told me what a hospitable presence I was at church. Normally I would have brushed off this comment thinking about hospitable in the old way. But I decided that she was observing something I was oblivious to.

I actually resorted to the dictionary(we know I am a retired English professor after all) to find out the broader definition of the word. I learned that it had a much broader meaning, suggesting a welcoming attitude, especially to the stranger. It turns out that the woman at church was accurately describing my outgoing behavior at church where my husband is the head greeter and usher at our Mass.

We came to Catholicism from a large Protestant church where we were expected to greet one another and get to know one another. We even wore name tags to facilitate the fellowship. I didn’t realize that Catholics in New England often didn’t know the names of the people around them. So naturally I kept introducing myself to whoever sat down near me. By and large people were very glad to connect; they just weren’t used to it. So I was being hospitable without realizing it!

In the photo above, my beloved cousin Susan is welcoming me into her dollhouse play set. She is introducing me to the little stove and how it “cooks”.  I do the same on Sundays, welcoming new attendees and showing them around our sanctuary. May we all greet the newcomer, stranger or foreigner with such tender hospitality as Susan is showing me.

 

Stretched

~ Elizabeth ~ Leave a comment

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Stretching can feel wonderful when you first wake up and, like a cat, reach out with your arms and legs to get them moving. Gentle stretching can warm up your muscles before a workout, and gentle stretching can help you cool down later. But there are times when stretching is not so terrific. I think these are times when, instead of stretching yourself, situations stretch you.

Two years ago, after an early heavy wet 12 inch snow blanketed the trees which still hadn’t lost their leaves, the electricity went out for many days. We lost power for 7 days; others lost it for longer. There had been no warning, so I was not prepared for this sudden change in life. I was really being stretched, and I had no interest in the experience! The power company couldn’t say when the power would be back, and so we waited with everyone else while the crews worked tirelessly cutting branches and replacing wires.

So yes I was grumpy and cold since we live in New England and our gas furnace needs electricity to start. But two great experiences showed me that other people can really help when I am stretched beyond my limits. A dear friend had electricity(it was very sporadic across the state) and I went over to her house to thaw out and grump. She restored my mood significantly. Then our church let everyone know that it was open and warm. We were all invited to come plug in our electronic devices and enjoy a spaghetti dinner prepared for us by volunteers.

We went to church and found ourselves surrounded by 200 others, including the residents of a group home for the mentally challenged who were actually camped out at the church. As we sat and laughed and ate warm food, our ipods and phones were being recharged. So were we. It turns out sharing the struggle makes it endurable. I try to remember that when new situations stretch me “out of shape.”