February Notes

Late February may seem a bit early to be doing some spring cleaning, but winter doldrums magnified each time I dealt with dog fur, dander, dust, and dirt accumulating throughout the house.  Vacuuming and dusting just were not dealing with all that debris tracked in by the dog throughout the winter.

Having spent most of the month of February ill and cooped up in the house, I decided spring cleaning needed to come early this year.  The light switches, every surface in the bathrooms, the door knobs, and other frequently touched areas of the house were wiped down with Lysol once I started getting well.

On Monday of the last week in February, the sun was shining and it was warmish enough outside that I opened windows throughout the house so that the house and I could breathe in fresh air.  The dog's bed was carried to the back deck where my hubby vacuumed every square inch of it.  We then moved the bedside tables and vacuumed under them.  Tables throughout the house were cleared of knickknacks.  Sheets were changed on our bed and on the guest bed.  At noon, the carpet cleaner arrived.  Now, I also have clean carpets and much tidier house.

The house is losing its winter doldrum appearance.  Over the weekend, my daughter Amy gifted me with the same flowers she almost always brings for my birthday: daffodils.  Even the daffodils in the yard are poking their head up.

Soon, spring will be here.  In Colorado, that means that we most likely will be having our heaviest snows of the year, but I can handle that because I will know that winter is nearly behind us, and we will experience springtime in the Rockies.

February, the year's shortest month in days, was such a long month this year because I was sick nearly the entire month.  It is rare for me to have colds.  This year, I was hit with a terrible sinus infection and acute bronchitis.  I don't even know when I've ever had bronchitis, but I had it this year. Thankfully, it did not go into pneumonia.  I think that is because I had the Prevnar 13 vaccine for pneumonia a few years ago.  I had also had a vaccine against pneumonia about twenty years ago.  This year, I was grateful to know I had taken precautions against getting pneumonia.  The case of acute bronchitis was scary enough.  In the end, I was given three different antibiotics, and had to have three breathing treatments before I finally began to kick what was making me so sick.

Days were lost.  I don't even know what I did with my time when I was sick.  I didn't feel like reading.  I didn't spend much time on the computer.  I had no appetite.  I drank a lot of tea and water.  I sat in my hubby's easy chair under an electric throw blanket and watched some episodes of The Crown while the cool mist vaporizer beside me helped me breathe.  Through it all, I had two loyal guys by my side:  Jim and Boston.  They certainly made me feel better just by being there.

Sharing a Footstool ~ Sharing a Life

Cozy evenings at home in front of the fireplace brought solace to me during the long winter days of late January and throughout February.  One night, as my hubby and I shared a footstool as we sat quietly beside each other reading, I snapped a photo that captured for me the comfort that comes from sharing a life with a dear companion.

Quite honestly, there were days towards mid-February when I wondered if I'd ever be well again.  We had planned a winter vacation to Southern Utah.  We thought we would go to St. George and perhaps even venture into Zion National Park.  Jim had a week off from work, reservations were made, and we began to plan our adventures.  Then, a day before we were to leave, we had to cancel our plans because I just wasn't well enough to travel.

Then, we thought that perhaps I'd be well enough to go to Mt. Princeton Hot Springs near Buena Vista, Colorado, for the few days leading up to Valentine's Day.  I thought soaking in the hot springs would be just what would make this old girl feel better.  We were able to book a wonderful room, and we were looking forward to a Valentine's Day dinner in the lodge.  A day before we to leave, after I had to go to the ER for my third breathing treatment, we cancelled yet another get-away trip.

I thought our plans for Valentine's Day were doomed, but thankfully, we were able to get last minute reservations for lunch at The Cliff House which is just a short twenty minute or so drive from our house.  The Cliff House was built in 1874 in a tourist area near Colorado Springs called Manitou Springs.  The historic hotel has in recent years become a sought after place for wedding receptions.  The restaurant has become a destination place for those seeking a special meal ever since one of the top chefs from the Broadmoor Hotel came over to be the executive chef.  We were very lucky to get the reservations for lunch on a day when they had been booked for months.

The sky was a beautiful blue, and the sun was shining on the first day I'd had anything to look forward to for weeks.  My spirits were lifted even more when the first thing I saw when I stepped out of the car upon our arrival at this historic hotel were tiny purple crocuses in bloom.  Suddenly, winter's gloom began to lift because I actually had visual confirmation that spring is indeed on its way.

Our Valentine's Day venture across town to enjoy lunch together was just what the doctor ordered.  The smiles and jolly laughter from my dear husband lightened my heart and filled it with gratitude.  I am so blessed to have this wonderful man by my side through sickness and health.

A shared life is a rich life.  We share our ups and our downs, but sharing those ups and downs is so much easier when they are shared with one whom makes one smile, laugh, and is solid and trustworthy.  Such is the man with whom I share my life.  I met him during the springtime of my life, and now as we enter the last season of life,  he remains the young man whose personality, character,  smile, and sparkly eyes first captured this girl's heart.

************

During those days of youth, my life wasn't just blessed by meeting my dear husband, it was also blessed by meeting some of the most amazing women I know:  my high school girlfriends.  In November, I had committed to hosting the next gathering which was to be held in February.  Then, I took that short lived journey into employment, so my plans to host a gathering had to change.  Thankfully, the girls agreed that meeting at a restaurant would be a good plan.  

Our group was smaller than usual, but girls from Denver, Colorado Springs, and Pueblo all met together in a small community just north of Colorado Springs.  One of the girls recommended we meet at The Bistro on 2nd in Monument, Colorado.  We loved Rick, the owner, and his restaurant, and the food!  Rick gave us a private room and the very best of service.  He also joked with us and made our time together all the more fun.  If you are in the Monument area, stop by the Bistro on 2nd, you will love it.

As usual, we giggled, and laughed, and told stories from our days in high school.  Quite honestly, I can't imagine my life without this group of girls in it.  They are counted as some of my richest blessings.  In Ann VosKamp's book, The Broken Way, she writes of talking to her daughter about friends who "betray and break trust."  Our girlfriends group is not perfect, but of them, I can best describe their characteristics by quoting from VosKamp's  book.

Girls can rival each other, but real women revive each other,

girls can impale each other, but real women empower each other.

Girls can compare each other, but real women champion each other
 and we are all made to be
ground breakers and peace makers and freedom shakers.

I am so blessed to be a part of this group of real women.

***********

We are two years into our seventies.   I have no idea how we got to be this age.  It seems like yesterday these high school girlfriends and I were studying Latin, and English, and algebra, dragging Main Street,  cheering at high school games, going to dances, and having sleepovers.  Now,  we are older, much older, and some of us have had serious heart operations, have been widowed, are nursing loved ones through cancer, and are sharing stories of how we are fighting back against other aspects of aging.  One of us no longer would even know the rest of us because she has Alzheimers and lives in a home in another state.  That doesn't mean we have forgotten her.  A few years ago, a few from the group went to visit her and took a gift of a warm sweater from the rest of us.  It is comforting to celebrate another year of life with girls I've known since long before any of us even thought we would get wrinkles.  When I look into their eyes and receive a smile from them, I know for certain that age is just a number.

********

Exactly two weeks after Valentine's Day, on the last day of February, I celebrated my birthday.  I was again reminded that I am grateful for each and every birthday I have.  Birthdays are good.  They are so much better than the alternative of not having them.  Daughter Amy and granddaughter Hannah came to celebrate on the weekend before the big day. They brought flowers, presents, and cheer.  Amy's birthday is five days after mine, so we celebrate together most years.  Jim had a beautiful cake made for both of us.

We went to dinner at a sushi place.  My choice.  Granddaughter Hannah said she really didn't like sushi or fish or sushi places.  My response: "That's too bad.  It's my birthday and your mom's and we like sushi, so you can stay home if you wish.

I will have Grandpa bring in McDonald's for you."  Her response:  "Well, maybe I'll try the sushi place."  She liked tempura, and even ate tempura shrimp.  

Amy remembered a story about Julie, my daughter and her sister, that happened many years ago when Julie was in Salt Lake City going to college.  It was New Year's Eve and Jim wanted to go to a fancy steak house.  Julie went with us even though she wasn't very happy about it because she had recently become a vegetarian.  She ordered an expensive steak.  Jim asked her when she stopped being a vegetarian.  She said, "Just now."  He laughed and said, "Now's a fine time to change your mind about meat.  The steak is more expensive than vegetables."  

*******

February, my birthday month, has always been a special time of year for me.  In Colorado, we have a mixture of winter and spring, sometimes both seasons occur in one day.  Yesterday, on my actual birthday, Jim and spent a mostly quiet day together.  We had an early dinner/late lunch at one of our favorite restaurants.  I finished reading the novel I'd been reading.  As I progress into my seventies, I find my definition of celebrating a birthday changes.  An early dinner and quiet evening at home seem perfect.  

A high school friend wrote a phrase on my Facebook page on my birthday: tempus fugit.  That simple phrase meaning time flies is one I can't seem to get out of my mind.  February is gone, and now we are in March.  Winter is nearly over.  Where does the time go?

Today is Ash Wednesday.  In six weeks, in forty-six days, we will celebrate Easter.  We are entering a time of renewal.  Now that my deep spring cleaning has begun on my house, I hope to spend the days during the Lenten Season sweeping out the cobwebs in my heart and soul.  I told my son I have been suffering from political fatigue this past month.  I plan on changing my focus to that which brings me hope.  I hope to spend a bit more time reading the Bible and in prayer.  I am grateful for a season of renewal.  

That Didn't Last Long

Retired English Teacher is fully retired again.

On January 24, 2017, I began my new job teaching English language learners for a local school district.   The day dawned earlier than most of my days have dawned for a long time.  After going to bed early, I was still a bit stunned when the alarm on my phone signaled to me that it was not only time to get up, but time to shower, dress, eat breakfast, gather my things and head out the door.  The amazing thing is:  I was able to find my way to my school via Google maps and arrive on time.  

Since I would be working at three elementary schools, and one middle school, I walked in the school where I was first assigned to be and was taken to the room (small, cramped, but at least a room that was completely designated for use by the ELL teacher and her aide) and met the delightful young woman whom would be my aide at this school.  We didn’t have much time together because I was scheduled to visit a principal at another school where I would be working, but we did establish a quick working relationship which I thought would be very productive and full-filling. 

We discussed the needs of the school, the students in the program, the schedule, and the materials available.  I felt quite uplifted about the initial contact I had made in a school where I would work for half days two days a week.

That afternoon, I drove over to the middle school where I would have a planning period and be assigned to teach a class every afternoon.  Already a bit familiar with the school, I was greatly looking forward to teaching there. 

The principal introduced me to the assistant principal whom would be my evaluator and contact person for any needs or concerns that I might have.  I was then given a tour of the building and shown three possible sites that I could choose as my “home” while I was in the building during my planning period: 

·      a narrow storage room between two technology classrooms that was full of a lot of stuff and hadn’t been used as an office in years. “But it can be cleaned out if you want to use this space originally designated as the itinerant teacher office”

·      an office off the library shared by another itinerant teacher which I could not use on Wednesdays,

·      a workspace used by all the aides to the sixth grade teachers that was located in the sixth grade workroom.  The former teacher had used the latter space as her “office.”

I was also briefly shown the room where I would teach during seventh period.  The room was dark, and I couldn’t really see it because a group of teachers were in there watching Trump’s Inauguration during their planning period, lunch, or whatever. 

I met the aide that would assist me for the briefest of moments because she had to leave to test students. 

At 4:00 p.m., I left the building at the end of my day.  It was cold.  The wind had been blowing all day, and I asked myself what I had gotten myself into.

*****

On January 25, 2017, I repeated the part about getting up early and getting out the door.  This time, I went to a different elementary school.  It was the one where I would also spend half a day three days a week. 

The ELL teacher’s aid is a delightful person whom has the luxury of actually having a classroom designated entirely for use for serving the ELL population of the school.  The room was very pleasantly decorated and set up to serve the students. 

I spent much of the morning in mainstream classrooms with two students just learning English.  I was very excited about the possibility of working with these students and their teachers.  I was able to spend some time with a teacher helping her with strategies for best teaching the student she had that was just learning English. “I’m back in the saddle, and it feels so good and so right,” I said to myself as I left the classroom to meet with the district level leadership for the ELL Department.

That encounter left me again wondering what I had gotten myself into.

And so the week went.  I got up early.  I went to the assigned school for the day.  I tried to remember where my classroom was, and tried to rehearse in my mind the schedules that did not really align with the task that been assigned to me. I gave it all my very best brain power, organizational skills, and knowledge of how best to teach the students and was trying to come up with a reasonable plan that would serve the population I was there to teach.

On Saturday, January 28, 2017, I awoke with a terrible ear ache.  I am not one to get viruses such as colds or flu.  It is rare for me to be sick.  I may have my multiple health problems, but I am rarely sick with a virus.  Since the ear ache was quite painful, and since I needed to be back at work on Monday, I went to the doctor.

Indeed, my ears were bulging.  I was given a prescription for an antibiotic, and for a decongestant and sent on my way.  I spent the weekend resting, taking my medicine, and drinking fluids. 

*****

On Monday, January 30, I was back at the job.  This time, I spent the morning in the third school to which I had been assigned.  I was to spend half a day one day a week at this school. 

The school is a wonderful elementary school.  I was thrilled to be there.  The ELL aide was quite competent and delightful.  The classroom space dedicated to the program was not large, but it was more than adequate, and it was welcoming and stocked with great teaching materials.  We had a productive time together. 

When it was time for me to go the middle school, I was worn down and overwhelmed with the task that had been assigned to me with this job.  Mostly, though, I was just sick.  I felt terrible.

******

On Tuesday, January 31, 2017, I called off sick.  I felt worse than I had when I went to the doctor on Saturday.  The meds did not seem to be working.  I went to the doctor again.  This time, she gave me a penicillin shot and a prescription for prednisone.  We discussed my problems with steroids, but I agreed to try taking the

prednisone anyway.

******

On Wednesday, February 1, 2017, I called off sick again.  I then took the prednisone in an attempt to try and get well.  By three o’clock that afternoon, my husband had me back in the doctor’s office because I had a negative reaction to prednisone, could not breathe, and had chest pain.  I told her I was allergic to it.  Now she believes me.  No more prednisone for me!

Discouraged, and being fully aware of the fact that I was as sick, or sicker than I had been on Saturday, I fretted all day about what to do about the job.  In my heart of hearts, I knew that it just was not the right job for me at this time in my life.  It was not a good fit.  It involved way too many moving parts, too much travel, too many schedules, and little real opportunity to make a difference in the lives of the students most needing instruction. 

******

On Wednesday, February 1, 2017, after much discussion with my wise husband, and after shedding many tears, I called the human resources department and asked how I would go about resigning from my position.  I then called the principal of the school which was my home school to tell him that I was still sick, and felt it was only right that I resign from my teaching position.  I then sent a letter of resignation, effective for that day’s date.  Relief flooded my heart and mind once I had actually made my decision and acted upon it.

Life Lessons

My latest chapter, and my last chapter, in my experience as a classroom teacher was very, very short.  I spent five complete days in the classroom.  Then, I spent two days on sick leave.  On the seventh day of this short teaching gig, I resigned. 

While I was trying to decide what to do about the job, I realized that the known aspects of the position were aspects that would stretch me to the limits physically, mentally, and emotionally.  The stress evidently had been too much for the two teachers before me. 

The unknown aspects of the job were the students.  I had not had a chance to interact with them much.  I was just learning the ropes and trying to develop a reasonable schedule that would serve those needing my services best.  In the meantime, I picked up all those germs floating around the schools where I was working because my immune system no longer has the ability to fight off all those new germs like it once did when I was in the classroom every day. 

Looking back on this latest venture of mine, I am reminded of a line from Mission Impossible.

Your mission should you agree to accept it…

Oh how I wish I would have thought of this line during the interview for the job.  The first question asked of me was, “Why do you want to be hired for this job that requires you to go to four school.”  I laughed and said, “Well, I didn’t know that the job required me to go to four schools.”  Right then and there, I should have interviewed the committee myself.  I should have said, “May I please visit these schools, speak with the teacher aides, and look at the requirements of the job and determine just how the school district expects me to fulfill these duties and requirements before I accept the job?”

I learned this life lesson about jobs a long time ago. 

A little over twenty-five years ago, before my husband and I were to be married, I applied for a job as an accounting assistant for a school district.  I had a B.S. in Business Administration, and I was working as an accounting assistant in a non-profit in Denver.  Since I had much experience in school district bookkeeping, and since I was moving to the town where the job was located in a very short time because of my impending marriage, I thought the job would be perfect.  The salary was low, too low for me to accept, so I negotiated for a higher salary.  My husband-to-be (now my husband) said I’d never get it.  He said they would never pay me what I was asking.  They did.  They gave the salary.

 The others in the department were not happy when I started the job because word had gotten around about my salary.  Never mind that I had a degree which they did not, and I had a great deal of experience. 

In just a few days, the joke was on me.  What I should have done was ask to see the books before I took the job.  None of the accounts had been balanced in over three months.  Some accounts had not been balanced in nearly a year.  The report to the state was due in just a few short months and all the books had to be balanced before work on the report could even begin.  All of this while learning how the system associated with district worked.

I caught up the balancing of the books and completed the report for the audit.  In the meantime, after spending five or six hours a day on the ten-key calculator or doing data entry on a ten key computer pad, my hands no longer could even tell if I dropped something until I heard the item hit the floor.  I couldn’t remove a paper clip from paper.  I had a very serious case of carpal tunnel.  That job ended my career as a bookkeeper/accounting technician. 

After surgery for carpel tunnel syndrome, during the recovery time, I was not allowed to work.  In fact, my doctor told me he would never release me to do that type of work again. 

That is when I went back to school and earned a BA in English and a certificate to teach Secondary Language Arts. 

***************

All of the lessons of life are applicable in other areas.  When I was interviewed for this most recent teaching job, I just didn’t remember to ask that important question:

“May I see the books before I start the job?”

In this case, I really should have visited the schools and seen the entire scope of the job.  If I had, the famous line from Mission Impossible would have given me a true picture of mission which I found impossible for me to do.  The job was not a good fit for me.  I do hope that some way, somehow, the needs of the students with limited proficiency in using English in the academic setting will get the services they deserve and are guaranteed for them under the laws which we currently have in place. 

***************

Today, February 7, 2017, a full week after I resigned, my husband said to me this morning.  “If you were working, you still would not be well enough to go back to work.”  He is right.  The virus has now settled in my chest.  I am more sick than I was a week ago.  Hopefully, this stubborn virus doesn’t hang on much longer.  At least I am home, fully retired, and able to do what I need to do to get well. 

Retired English Teacher Is Going To Work

Once the Christmas decorations were down and put away, I looked at the winter months spreading before me and wondered just how I would get through those long days when my hubby was off to work.  Oh, I had plenty to do.  The desk is covered with family papers, old letters,  and photos needing to be sorted, filed, and archived.  I promised myself I would get that done after the first of the year.

I'd begun going through closets and cupboards sorting and tossing while I put away Christmas, but I still had much more of that type of sorting and tossing to do.  

Books are stacked waiting to be read during the winter months.  

Writing a personal history was also on my to do list.

I had my ladies groups at church to look forward to.  And, there is my writing group that needs to get going again.  All of that would also take up much of my time.  Not to mention that I could always go to lunch with my girlfriends.  Yes, I had all of that going on, and I so enjoy these activities.

I'd started a workout plan on our new elliptical machine.  I hoped to make sure I also got the club to do water aerobics at least twice a week.  There were Zumba classes being offered, and those low impact aerobics class also.

I promised myself that I would start cooking more at home and planning healthier meals.  I have been pretty consistent in doing that since the beginning of December.  

Yes, I had plenty to do while Jim was working.

Yet, I could not shake the desire to go back to work, so there was this job, and I applied for it.  As I told one of my girlfriends, I hate filling out the application process on-line, so one day, I sat myself down and completed the process anyway, partly as a practice of discipline.  

I had another year and a half left on a teaching license that I had renewed and never used since I had renewed it.  It took some doing just to renew that license on-line.  I'd had to reconstruct all the professional development I had done, prove I had done it, and submit all the papers to get the renewal.  It seemed so much easier when we just found our papers and submitted them to the Colorado Department of Education.  Now, it all had to be done electronically.  My husband, and many of my friends thought I was crazy for doing it.  "Why do you want to renew again?"  In my heart, I just wasn't ready to let that hard won certificate expire, so I renewed it.  After all of that, I had never used the renewed certificate to teach again.

Mostly, I have just been missing working in the profession I loved so much.  I missed the mental and intellectual challenge that teaching brings.  I missed the contact with students.  I missed working with other teachers. I wanted and needed the feeling that my days had a purpose that met the passion I have always had for teaching.

A phone call came.  An interview was granted.  I was greatly impressed by the principals I met.  I loved the school.  I was excited about the possibilities.  The next day, a job was offered.  I took it.

Today, I signed a contract to teach again.  I will begin my new job on January 24.  I will be teaching ELL (English Language Learners, or English as A Second Language.  I will go between three elementary schools and one middle school in School District 11.  I am quite happy about it all.  

Tonight we went to dinner to celebrate that I had signed a contract to teach through the end of the school year.  As Jim signed the check, I mentioned to the waiter that we had just eaten a celebratory dinner.  Soon, very unexpectedly, the waiter reappeared with a dessert to help me celebrate my new adventure.  He said,  

"Thank you for being a teacher."  

After I signed my paperwork today, I was quite humbled to think that I can again become a part of a profession that has given me so much more than I ever gave it.  I'm grateful to have the health and the desire to go back and work with young people again.  I'm looking forward to mentoring and working with the aides whom work with the ELL population in the schools where I will be working.  

Many years ago, a fellow worker in the school where I worked said to me, "I could never give up working as an elementary school secretary, because I'm hooked on the smiles I get each day."  I understand that.  I love seeing the light come on and the excitement that a child expresses when he or she finally understands and can speak a language that is new to them.  I can't wait to get back to working with my dear ELL students.  

Bidding Goodbye to Our President and His Vice President

Just back from a massage, my muscles a bit more relaxed, my tensions beginning to ease, hungry, now that is well past noon, I toast some raisin bread, grab the peanut butter, and pour myself a glass a milk while I pick up my phone so I can check out what is happening on Facebook.  

The White House tribute and farewell to Vice President Joe Biden is live.  He had just been awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom.  The farewell speech is nearly over when I join others watching this man speak so lovingly and respectfully about his time in office and about the friendship and bond that has developed between President Obama and himself.  Heart emoticons, and thumbs up emoticons float across the bottom of the screen on phone.  Comments are scrolling below the emoticons.  I hit the heart emoticon and think about how much I love this man and his boss.  Words like dignity, class, civility, and humility come to my mind as I watch the man we commonly call Joe speak.  He hits the nail on the head for when he describes Obama as a man devoid of any sense of entitlement.  I would say the same could be applied to Joe Biden.

I begin to reflect upon our current political environment, upon my own political beliefs, and about the world of politics in which I have lived since I was a child.  To me, The Office of the President of the United States has never really been about politics.  I have respected all of the presidents whom have presided over our country throughout all of my lifetime because of a sense of patriotism that was bred in me from my earliest days.  I learned values of respect for my elders, for my leaders, and for our system of government while I sat at the dinner table and was encouraged by my father to participate in whatever discussions we would have at dinner.  I learned these same values all throughout my school career.  

I learned American History from my parents and grandparents as stories of our own family history, so linked to the history of this country, were told on long Sunday afternoon rides throughout the countryside of Colorado, or when we took vacations with our grandparents.  

As I watched those emoticons float across the screen, read the remarks that others made in the comments, on a Thursday afternoon in January, listening to Joe Biden speak, I wondered just why I was weeping again.  

I had wept earlier this week as I listened to President Barack Obama give his farewell speech.  I wept as if I were saying goodbye to a loved one and to an era which this loved one represented.  Indeed, I had the sense that this was exactly what was happening.  I was weeping because not only was a much admired and loved leader leaving office, but also because the end of an era which I had embraced so fully was coming to an end.

A sense of history washed over me as I listened to President Obama speak.  I thought of the farewell addresses I had read and studied in school.  I thought of the lessons and warnings that we as students were to discover from the departing president's speech.  As we studied those speeches of past presidents, we were asked to note what could we learn about the times in which that president lived from the speech.  What was the background for the remarks that we could learn from history?  What did the speech tell us about the president himself, his administration, his goals and achievements? Earlier this week, as I listened to this man speak, our current and outgoing president, knowing we will not see the likes of his oratory skills for a long time to come, if ever in my lifetime, I resolved to get a printed copy of his speech so I could read it, ponder it, and reflect upon in the days to come.

Today, as I watched the love of a people float across the screen in form of emoticons as Vice President Biden spoke, I realized anew the very different type of connection we feel with each other and with our leaders during these days.  In an instant, we can express to the rest of the world how we are feeling about any given moment in history as we view that moment live on the screen.  

There were comments not worthy of the country in which we live that would pop up in the comments.  Those commenters have the right to express such thoughts because of the rights we in America have, and I support the right to speak one’s beliefs as fundamental to our democracy, but oh how I miss the days of civility and respect.  Yes, to be honest, and I wish to be, our democracy has never been perfect.  We have a history that shows that often we have not shown respect or civility or social justice to our fellow citizens, but never, as far as I know, has such lack of respect and civility been seen in the behavior of those seeking public office as occurred during the election of 2016.

Phillip Yancey recently wrote the following about the political season we just survived:

First, civility lost.  I must fault Trump especially for debasing the presidential campaign.  He had a pejorative nickname for almost everyone: Crooked Hillary, Crazy Bernie, Low-Energy Jeb, Lyin’ Ted, Little Marco.  In the three presidential debates, Trump interrupted Clinton almost one hundred times.  He bullied people offstage and on, mocking a disabled reporter, disparaging women for their looks or their weight, playing to racist fears and ethnic prejudice.  Bullying, racism, sexism, and xenophobia have always been present in American society, but never before has a candidate for the presidency modeled them so blatantly.  Trump let the bats out of the cave, in effect legitimizing the darkest side of a free society. 

On a Thursday afternoon in January, just a few short days before a new president steps into the highest office in the land, my mind went back to an earlier time in my life.  

It was the Sixties.  I was a freshman in college.  To be exact, the year was 1963.  Martin Luther King gave a speech, one I would later teach to ninth grade students, I Have a Dream that year.  There was no civility or dignity or respect in that year when the Ku Klux Klan blew up a church in Alabama.  It was in that era, in that time, when wars over civil rights were being fought in this country, that I walked across campus one night to hear John Howard Griffin speak about the experiences that he had that became the basis for his book, Black Like Me.  

Away from home for the first time in my life, and in the academic setting, I began to develop more fully the beliefs about civil rights and social justice that I would hold throughout my lifetime.  

In 1963, war was raging in Viet Nam, and I had seen many from my family and from among my schoolmates ship off to a place I'd never heard of before to fight in a war I didn't understand.

It was in those days when I walked down the hall of my dorm from my room to the community bath, that groups of girls dressed in nightgowns and pajamas, with rollers in their hair, would be sitting cross-legged in the hallway around a record player one of them had drug into the hall singing I Want To Hold Your Hand and I Saw Her Standing There.  Those were the earliest days of Beatlemania.

Those thoughts all came to me on the heels of the memory I had today as I listened to Joe Biden and wept.  I remembered another day in history when I had wept because I sensed an era had ended.  That day in November I will never forget.  The date was November 22, 1963. On that day, I listened to the radio in that dorm room in Wilson Hall on the campus of the University of Northern Colorado as it was announced to the nation that President John F. Kennedy was dead.  

Yes, this is what this feels like, I said to myself as I watched Vice President Joe Biden bid his farewell to the nation.  Seeing Obama and Biden leave office feels like I am seeing the death of Camelot again.  

I surprised myself when I compared the previous eight years to Camelot.  Certainly, I don't want to infer that these years have been the makings of a myth.  A myth always involves a hero, and I am not one given to hero worship.  Even as I think back to Kennedy, I know for certain that he was a flawed man with many traits I find personally reprehensible.  While I greatly admire Barack Obama, I am not going suggest that he is without his faults.  I do believe he will go down as one of the greatest presidents in the history of our country, but I know he did not always have my support on every issue.

So why am I feeling like I am bidding Camelot goodbye again?  Why did I weep when both Obama and Biden bid us farewell? 

When I was young, our country was so different.  I believe we had a sort of innocence about us not found in today’s society.  I have always believed we lost our innocence as a Nation that day when JFK was assassinated.

JFK transmitted a vision civic duty and participation to many of those of us whom came of age during his presidency. I was educated and came of age during post World War II.  Our teachers and our parents, those from the Greatest Generation, taught us about dignity, respect, honor, civility, honesty, courtesy, patriotism.  These values were modeled for us.  I was taught at home and in school to read, to think, to question, to be responsible, to participate in civic discourse in an educated and informed manner. 

So many of the values that I was taught, that I tried to teach to my children and to my students, that I have seen displayed in the public square for most of my life are disappearing in the current political climate. 

Oratory skills have been lacking in much of our political world for a long time.  Perhaps that is why I took such delight in listening to Obama whenever he spoke.  His breadth of knowledge, his command of English language, his ability to inspire and motivate others to take positive action, were always on display when he spoke. It was apparent that he thought things through.  He is a critical thinker.  His legal training and expertise is apparent.  Beyond that, he is a man who has faced many adversaries, but has emerged as a man who loves and respects others, and gives that love and respect freely.  Have you ever seen him show disrespect?  Have you?  I haven’t.  He loves his wife and his children.  In many ways, he is Everyman.  Perhaps that is why I find I like him so much.  He is a man of the people.  Yes, Joe Biden, he truly does seem to be a man without a trace of entitlement. 

That is why I feel the sadness and sorrow that I do as I face the days of the incoming administration.  I am not mourning the death of myth.  I am not mourning a death of Camelot. I am mourning the death of all of those values and virtues that I held dearest in my leaders: civility, respectful treatment of others, a sense of dignity, evidence of critical thinking, wisdom, inspiration, hope for the future, and grace under fire. 

Just before I embarked on writing this long post, as is my practice after I eat my lunch each day, I opened a piece of Dove chocolate.  The inside of wrapping was imprinted with these words: “Be more loquacious, starting with learning the meaning of loquacious.”  No one has ever accused me of not being loquacious.  I love words.  I place great value in the ability to use words well. 

Now, we are entering an era where the incoming President of the United States does not seem to value the time honored way of our forefathers in fostering hope through the use of well-chosen words.  We are entering an era where the President-elect chooses to communicate in sound bite like messages made up of 140 characters.  We are entering an era where derogatory adjectives are applied to describe the person of which the President-elect is speaking.  We are entering an era where truth is subjective.  The times are being described as times of post-truth. 

My grandmother’s maxim keeps coming to me whenever I hear of a new tweet being sent out from our President-elect ensconced like a demagogue (Oxford University Press definition in mind) in Trump Tower:  Fool’s names and fool’s faces are always seen in public places. 

Today, we lived in a time of great political divide.  We always had political divisions.  That is the American way, but I’ve never known the divides to be quite so divisive when it comes to friendships and family relationships.  I’ve never seen political beliefs cause people to interact in disrespectful ways like I have in the few months.  I’ve never seen my values and my beliefs questioned like they have been recently.  “How can you be a Christian and think that way?”  “You are a baby killer if you vote for Hillary.”  Yes, all of that has been said to me.  My patriotism has been called into question ever since I began supporting Obama years ago and stood against Bush and the wars he got us into.  

Jim & Sally
Obama Rally 2008
Pueblo, Colorado

I’ve been labeled a liberal, when I think of myself as a lifelong moderate.  None of the personal affronts I have experienced matter to me, except that they represent a lack of ability to discuss issues rationally and are indicators that so many no longer respect differences of view and show disrespect towards those who see things in a different light.  The attacks or label applications represent how we no longer appear to be able to discuss issues but rather prefer to slip into labeling and name calling.  I mourn over the loss of civility that I have witnessed and experienced even in my closest relationships within my family, neighborhood, in friendships of long standing, and even in informal church gatherings. 

I know many of you will not share the views and my beliefs that I have expressed in this post.  I would not wish to live in a country where we all had to think alike.  I certainly would not wish to live in a country where I had to participate in group think, nor would I wish to live in this great nation of ours if the very freedom that made us so great was stripped away from us:  Freedom of Speech.  Perhaps, that is what I fear most as I watch reporters and journalists being mocked by our President-elect.  I fear we will lose our freedom of speech, and our freedom to express dissent. 

I weep when I hear President Obama or Vice President Biden say their farewells because good and decent men are leaving the highest office of our land, and I fear that dignity, grace, and civility are leaving the Office of Presidency of the United State of America when they walk out the door.  That is why I weep.