The Blog to end all Blogs!

Wednesday, January 30, 2008

9:41-9:46, 10:18-46

I am again working on my Joyce story.

I have reworked parts of it, added tedious information to make it more accurate and tried diligently to breathe life into it. The hardest part was the breathing life into it. I still feel it is kind flat and does not possess the energy and vitality that my grandmother enbodies. I want it to be descriptive and lively. I want it to be vivid and captivating. I think that I might need to table this idea for a week and then come back to it refreshed. Whenever I work on it I have a vision that it is a children’s book with some bright acrylic paintings and some real photos mixed in. In my mind’s eye I am laying on my daughter’s bed and reading it to her.

If you read this and can tell me where the story is weak, please let me know. Please also tell me the parts of the story that you feel are strong. Thanks.

Here is what I have right now:

On August 20, 1921 a little baby girl was born on a small rural farm in Martha, Oklahoma. She was the first child of Barney and Beaulah S. This girl was born into a world with no televisions or computers. Her home did not have a bathroom, a telephone or electricity. She was also born into a world where women in Oklahoma had only recently gained the right to vote. But Joyce would one day accomplish much more than what was expected of a women in her day.

As Joyce grew up she faced many difficulties. Her mother left the home when Joyce was just three years old. Joyce and her younger brother, Alvis, were sent to live with their grandparents. Joyce remembers Grandma making biscuits on the wood stove and Grandpa quoting scripture. Joyce learned a lot from her grandparents, but her father would soon marry again and the family made a big move to Texas.

Over time little Joyce grew and matured into a beautiful young woman. One day while roller skating with her friend she met a handsome and charming fellow named John. John was a wonderful guy, but he was sometimes tricky. The day she met him he pretended he didn’t know how to roller skate. All the girls crowded around him to show him how to skate, but soon he laughed and skated away showing that he had known how to skate the whole time.

After courting, Joyce and John decided to get married. John got a nice job driving a Dallas city bus. Their family began to grow as they had two baby girls, Alice and Barbara. In 1941 the United States entered World War II and by 1944 John was drafted into the US Army. Joyce was pregnant with their third daughter, Linda, when John was shipped off to France.

Joyce decided she decided to drive a city bus. She became one of the first lady bus drivers in Dallas. The man that taught her how to drive a bus told her that her husband must have already taught her how to drive his bus because he was surprised that she caught on so fast.

Sometimes driving the bus was challenging. One bright Spring morning as Joyce was driving the large city bus out of the bus barn, a milk delivery truck raced through the intersection. Joyce tried to halt the big bus but she unable to stop before her bus and the milk truck collided. Glass milk bottles crashed as they hit the pavement. Beautiful white milk flowed down the street.

Then, another day, while she was completing her route she made a stop in downtown Dallas. Tall buildings loomed high in the sky as a scruffy old man began to ascend the stairs of the bus. He stopped abruptly, not quite on, not quite off, just in the middle of the staircase. He stood on the stairs for a moment, just staring at the rare lady bus driver. Joyce told him frankly he had to either get on or off of the bus. The man continued to stare, not moving an inch. Joyce told him that she needed to close the doors of the bus and that he needed to find a seat. The man continued to stare, still not moving an inch. Joyce told him she had to drive her route and he had to either get on or off the bus, but he couldn’t hold her up any longer. The man continued to stare, still not moving an inch. Finally, Joyce stood up from the big driver’s seat. She held on to the shiny metal support bars of the bus, abruptly put her foot against his chest and pushed him off of the bus. Then, she casually sat back down and finish driving her route. Nothing would stop her from doing her work.

After John returned home from the war they both drove city buses but they eventually changed jobs to driving dump trucks instead. Often, drivers unloaded their heavy dump trucks into boxcars on a little town outside of Dallas called Copelle. To do this, the driver had to carefully back their truck onto a small platform that overhung the boxcars down below. Joyce was not afraid to do this. She knew that she had enough skill to back the truck up without tipping it over the back or side, but once there was a man there that said that the platform was too small for his truck. Joyce knew that she was good enough of a driver to back his truck onto the small platform. When the man said that it couldn’t be done, she showed him it could. She jumped in his truck, backed it up and dumping the load. After she did that the man said that he wouldn’t be out shown by a female. He could do anything a woman could do and from then on he dumped his own truck.

Joyce could always take her truck into places that men said it couldn’t fit. Sometimes she would back into places and only have a few inches on each side.

In 1953 John and Joyce decided to go into business for themselves. They bought two green dumps trucks of their own and started a business called J. L. D*** Asphalt and Paving. Joyce ran the business by collecting money and doing the paperwork while John and their employees paved airplane runways, driveways and roads, built bomb shelters, put in swimming pools and much more. The business would expand and they added five red trucks. Their family would also expand. The whole time Joyce was running this business she had three more children, two boys and a girl.

How will I end the story?

As she describes herself, she was a woman who, “Knows what she wants and goes after it.

She was born and she wasn’t about to conform to the confining rules imposed upon women during that time.

Interesting facts about Joyce, not mentioned in the story:

She did not have an indoor bathroom until she was married and they moved to Dallas.

Alice born in 1939 and Barbara in 1941

Once, while driving a dump truck Joyce fell out. The door came open when she was going too fast around the corner. They took her to Parkland hospital. She had a bump on her head and a messed up finger. She said that they paid more attention to the finger than they did to her head. Her family was called, but when they arrived at Parkland hospital the hospital had lost her. No one knew where she was. It took a while, but they finally found her.

Linda was born in 1945

John was born in 1952

Debra was born in 1954

and Barney was born in 1955.

Tuesday, January 29, 2008

12:38pm-49, 1:00-1:15, 1:27-1:32

Alright, yesterday I said that what I really needed to do was to take a paragraph from the story of my grandmother and work, paragraph by paragraph to make the story vivid to the senses and to come alive to the reader. Here goes:

Old paragraph:

Sometimes driving the bus was challenging. One day while driving the bus Joyce was leaving the bus barn when a milk truck ran through the intersection. Joyce was unable to stop the bus in time and her bus tipped the milk truck over. Milk splashed everywhere.

Then, another day, she made a stop in downtown Dallas. A man got on, but stood on the stairs. He would not get fully on the bus, but he would not get off of the bus either. He just stood on the stairs. Joyce repeatedly told him he had to get on or off, but either way she had to drive her route. He man refused so she got out of her seat, held on to the metal bars on the bus, put her foot on his chest and pushed him off of the bus. Then she sat back down and finished driving her route.

New Paragraph:

Sometimes driving the bus was challenging. One bright Spring morning as Joyce was driving the large city bus out of the bus barn, a milk delivery truck raced through the intersection. Joyce tried to halt the big bus but she unable to stop before her bus and the milk truck collided. Glass milk bottles crashed as they hit the pavement. Beautiful white milk flowed down the street.

Then, another day, while she was completing her route she made a stop in downtown Dallas. Tall buildings loomed high in the sky as a scruffy old man began to ascend the stairs of the bus. He stopped abruptly, not quite on, not quite off, just in the middle of the staircase. He stood on the stairs for a moment, just staring at the rare lady bus driver. Joyce told him frankly he had to either get on or off of the bus. The man continued to stare, not moving an inch. Joyce told him that she needed to close the doors of the bus and that he needed to find a seat. The man continued to stare, still not moving an inch. Joyce told him she had to drive her route and he had to either get on or off the bus, but he couldn’t hold her up any longer. The man continued to star, still not moving an inch. Finally, Joyce stood up from the big driver’s seat. She held on to the metal support bars of the bus, abruptly put her foot against his chest and pushed him off of the bus. Then, she casually sat back down and finish driving her route. Nothing would stop her from doing her work.

I still think this needs a lot of work, but I feel it is slowly coming to life.

Monday, January, 28, 2008 9:47a-9:50, 12:08-12:27, 1:07-19After a weekend of not working on my writing, I almost feel like I am starting all over again. Wow. I really need to get back into the swing of this. My aunt Barbara sent me an e-mail this weekend (Friday) about my grandmother. This is what she wrote, “I talked to Granny last night and she said the milk truck ran out in front of her at an intersection just as she was leaving the Bus Barn for her shift and she was unable to stop in time and her bus tipped the milk truck over. It was not her fault, because it happened so quickly she did not have time to stop the bus before impact.. Last night she seemed to have lots of good memories. She was pregnant with Linda during that time too.”

I need to take my paragraph outline that contains factual information and add some personal stories to it that my family has collected. Here is what I did:

Story:

On August 20, 1921 a little baby girl was born on a small rural farm in Martha, Oklahoma. She was the first child of Barney and Beaulah S. This girl was born into a world with no televisions, no computers, and her home did not even have a telephone or electricity. She was also born into a world where women in Oklahoma had only recently gained the right to vote. But Joyce would one day accomplish much more than what was expected of a women in her day.

As Joyce grew up she faced many difficulties. Her mother left the home when Joyce was four years old. Joyce and her younger brother, Alvis, were sent to live with their grandparents. Joyce remembers Grandma making biscuits on the wood stove and Grandpa quoting scripture. Joyce learned a lot from her grandparents, but her father would soon marry again and the family made a big move to Texas.

Over time little Joyce grew and matured into a beautiful young woman. One day while roller skating with her friend she met a handsome and charming fellow named John. John was a wonderful guy, but he was sometimes tricky. The day she met him he pretended he didn’t know how to roller skate. All the girls crowded around him to show him how to skate, but soon he laughed and skated away showing that he had known how to skate the whole time. (If the story gets too cumbersome, I will take out the part from One day. . .until the end of this paragraph and include this skating story in another story.)

After courting, Joyce and John decided to get married. John got a nice job driving a Dallas city bus. John’s bus route passed by his parent’s house on Maple Avenue. He would sometimes allow his sister, Doris, to ride the bus for free and show her all around the city. (This part about John might need to be moved to a story about John?)

Soon John and Joyce two baby girls, Alice born in 1939 and Barbara in 1941. World War II was declared and John was eventually drafted into the army. Joyce was pregnant with their third daughter, Linda, when John was shipped off to France in 1944. Joyce decided to take over his job and became one of the first lady bus drivers in Dallas.

Sometimes driving the bus was challenging. One day while driving the bus Joyce was leaving the bus barn when a milk truck ran through the intersection. Joyce was unable to stop the bus in time and her bus tipped the milk truck over. Milk splashed everywhere.

Then, another day, she made a stop in downtown Dallas. A man got on, but stood on the stairs. He would not get fully on the bus, but he would not get off of the bus either. He just stood on the stairs. Joyce repeatedly told him he had to get on or off, but either way she had to drive her route. He man refused so she got out of her seat, held on to the metal bars on the bus, put her foot on his chest and pushed him off of the bus. Then she sat back down and finished driving her route.

After John returned from the war they both drove city buses but they eventually changed jobs from driving city buses to driving dump trucks.

Once, while driving a dump truck Joyce fell out. The door came open when she was going too fast around the corner. They took her to Parkland hospital. She had a bump on her head and a messed up finger. She said that they paid more attention to the finger than they did to her head. Her family was called, but when the arrived at Parkland hospital the hospital had losted her. No one knew where she was. It took a while, but they finally found her.

While she was driving a dump truck they would often have to unload into boxcars on Copelle. She would unload her dump truck by backing it onto a small platform that overhung the boxcars. She said that there was a man there that said that he couldn’t back his dump truck onto the platform. She said that she could. When he said that it couldn’t be done, she showed him it could by backing his truck up and dumping the load. After she did that he said that he wouldn’t be out shown by a female. He could do anything a woman could do and from then on he dumped his own truck. She said that she could take her truck into places that men said it couldn’t fit. Sometimes she would back into places and only have a few inches on each side.

In 1953 John and Joyce decided to go into business for themselves. They bought two dumps trucks of their own and started a business called J. L. D*** Asphalt and Paving. Joyce ran the business by collecting money and doing the paperwork while John paved airplane runways, driveways and roads, built bomb shelters, put in swimming pools and much more. The whole time Joyce was running this business she had three more children, a boy in 1952, a girl in 1954 and another boy in 1955.

How will I end the story?

As she describes herself, she was a woman who, “Knows what she wants and goes after it.

She was born and she wasn’t about to conform to the confining rules imposed upon women during that time.

I added the personal side stories into the factual narrative, but I did not actually compose the stories well. I just put them in. In the future, on different days I need to take each paragraph of this story and work on it individually. I have the outline down, but I need to add description and life to it. I want the reader to be able to picture what happened. They should smell the spilt milk, they should feel the ground shake as the man is thumped out onto the street from the bus. The story should become vivid and alive.

But, this past weekend my mom went to Dallas and interviewed my grandmother about her life. She taped probably an hour’s worth of footage with the video camera and sent them to me. I haven’t yet had time to look at all of the footage, but it looks like there is a lot of information there. I would like to record that information. I know that I cannot add all of it to this story, however, because it does not all fit my theme – about a girl who is overcoming obstacles of the restrictions of women due to expectations of the time by being a bus and dump truck driver. I will either have to expand my theme or make the story a two part story. There could be a childhood version of her memories in her childhood and then an adult version about the bus and truck driving. We will see. This project is really growing and expanding more than I realized it would. But my goal is still the same. . . To be able to write an interesting story so that my daughter will know and understand what a strong woman she is related to. I want her to know that it wasn’t just “people out there” that overcame amazing hurdles and were fantastic people, but I want her to know that she comes from a long line of amazing people.

Friday, Jan 25, 2008 9:48a -9:58, 10:13-10:37

My aunt B answered my e-mail today. Here is what she wrote, “One time when Granny was driving a city bus, she had an accident and her bus tipped over a Milk Truck hauling bottles of milk. She said milk was everywhere. I will get the details from her tonight and verify tomorrow. There is a newspaper article about her being a “Lady Truck Driver” and yes the story about her being able to back a truck is accurate. She is one awesome lady. I do remember when we went to elementary school at Obadiah Knight school in Dallas, on cold rainy days, she would come and pick me up in her dump truck and I was so embarrassed. Everyone else’s parent picked them up in a sedan car or a station wagon car. Today, kids would think it was “cool” if their Mother or Daddy came to pick them up in a dump truck.”

I think that so many people are responding and not only am I getting a lot of really good material to work with, but I also feel like this is something that is pulling our family together and helping us to share memories. I love it. Wouldn’t it be great if I could make this into a book, even if the book was only published for my family.

For today’s writing I have taken the outline that I made a few days ago and put it into a story format. Tomorrow or next week I would like to take the individual stories that people have shared with me and weave them into the story. If there are parts of my story that seem extraneous or seem to go off on a tangent, please let me know by commenting on my blog. Here is what I have as of today:

Plot:

Introduction:

On August 20, 1921 a little baby girl was born on a small rural farm in Martha, Oklahoma. She was the first child of Barney and Beaulah S. This girl was born into a world with no televisions, no computers, and her home did not even have a telephone or electricity. She was also born into a world where women in Oklahoma had only recently gained the right to vote. But Joyce would one day accomplish much more than what was expected of a women in her day.

As Joyce grew up she faced many difficulties. Her mother left the home when Joyce was four years old and her little brother was two. Joyce and Alvis were sent to live with their grandparents. Joyce remembers Grandma making biscuits on the wood stove and Grandpa quoting scripture, but her father would soon marry again and the family made a big move to Texas.

Beginning

Over time little Joyce grew and matured into a beautiful young woman. One day while roller skating with her friend she met a handsome and charming fellow named John. John was a wonderful guy, but he was sometimes tricky. He pretended he didn’t know how to roller skate. All the girls would crowd around him and try to show him how, but soon he would laugh and skate away showing that he had known how to skate the whole time.

After courting, Joyce and John decided to get married. John got a nice job driving a Dallas city bus. The couple had two baby girls, Alice in 1938 and Barbara in 1941. World War II had broken out and John was eventually drafted into the army and shipped off to France. Joyce took over his job and became one of the first lady bus drivers in Dallas.

Climax

After John returned from the war they both drove city buses. Their family continued to expand when they had another little girl named Linda in 1945. Soon, John and Joyce changed jobs from driving city buses to driving dump trucks.

In 1953 they decided to go into business for themselves. They bought two dumps trucks of their own and started a business called J. L. D*** Asphalt and Paving. Joyce ran the business by collecting money and doing the paperwork while John paved airplane runways, driveways and roads, built bomb shelters, put in swimming pools and much more. The whole time Joyce was running this business she had three more children, a boy in 1953, a girl in 1954 and another boy in 1955. (Are they boy’s birth years correct?  Should I even put the birth years in the story?  Does it help with the timeline or does it distract?)

Resolution:  not complete

As she describes herself, she was a woman who, “Knows what she wants and goes after it.

She was born and she wasn’t about to conform to the confining rules imposed upon women during that time.

Thursday, Jan 24, 2008, 11:26a-11:39a, 8:41p-9:09

In continuation of what I worked on yesterday. . . .

I sent out some e-mails to family members yesterday asking for information on my grandmother. I received an e-mail from BA. She said, “Papa always said “what ever a man can do she can do better”!” I also received an e-mail from Marsha. She said, “What a wonderful idea about Auntie. I have always loved her so much. She is the only aunt I have ever known. (I never knew my Father’s side of the family) I remember when I was little that she always had a dollar in her shirt pocket. When I would hug and kiss her she would let me get the dollar out of her pocket. I still have a pair of jeans that she bought me when I was only 1 year old. She bought me red boots, but I don’t know what happened to them. I used to pretned that her and Papa where my real parents and I was just staying with my grandmother until they came to pick me up. I think she worried about my mother. Always wishing she could have a happier life. The very best times of my childhoood were spent at her house. I always felt safe there. I remember hearing a story of her having an accident in her dump truck once. She turned a corner and the door came open and she flew out. Everyone rushed to Parkland hospital and when they got there they had lost her. Nobody knew where she was. I don’t remember how long before they found her. She and I sort of overcame some of the same problems in our childhoods so we kind of have a kindred thing going on between us. I just really love her and would love to see the story when you finish.” That has an interesting piece about when she drove a dump truck. I also called my grandmother today. Here are my notes from what she said:

She drove a city bus from Dec. 1944-Dec1945. I know that most of this was while my grandfather was off in WWII, although after he got back they were both driving buses for a while, before she got tired of it and quit. She said that one day she made a stop downtown Dallas. A man got on, but stood on the stairs. He would not get fully on the bus, but he would not get off of the bus either. He just stood on the stairs. My grandmother repeatedly told him to get on or off, but she had to drive her route. He man refused so she got out of her seat, held on to the metal bars on the bus, put her foot on his chest and pushed him off of the bus. Then she sat back down and finished driving her route.

Sometime later they drove dump trucks. Once she fell out. The door came open when she was going too fast around the corner. They took her to Parkland hospital. She had a bump on her head and a messed up finger. She said that they paid more attention to the finger than they did to her head. While she was driving a dump truck they would often have to unload into boxcars on Copelle. She would unload her dump truck by backing it onto a small platform that overhung the boxcars. She said that there was a man there that said that he couldn’t back his dump truck onto the platform. She said that she could. When he said that it couldn’t be done, she showed him it could by backing his truck up and dumping the load. After she did that he said that he wouldn’t be outshown by a female. He could do anything a woman could do and from then on he dumped his own truck. She said that she could take her truck into places that men said it couldn’t fit. Sometimes she would back into places and only have a few inches on each side.

When they went into business she stopped driving the dump truck and instead did the office side of the business while my grandfather did the work part. She said she collected the money – very important.

She said that she is the type of person who knows what she wants and goes after it.

I would still like to ask her to retell me a story about AC in her truck.

Here is some draft writing of the actual story. Above was just information gathering.

On August 20, 1921 a little baby girl was born on a small rural farm in Martha, Oklahoma. She was the first child of Barney and Beaulah S. This girl was born into a world with no televisions, no computers, and her home did not have a telephone or electricity. She was also born into a world where women in Oklahoma had only recently (about a year before) gained the right to vote. (Add more about women’s life in 1921?) But Joyce would one day accomplish much more than what was expected of a women in her day. As she describes herself, she was a woman who, “Knows what she wants and goes after it.

When the little girl, Joyce, was 2 years old her brother and friend was born, Alvis.

Wednesday, January 23, 2008 10:05-10:39am

Today I am going to work on another one of the projects that I set out in the beginning of this blog. I would like to write true children’s stories about my family members and ancesters to share with my children. Like I said before, I read to them TONS of books, all of them about people we are not related to. Some are fictional and some are true. I desire to include with those books some non-fiction books about our family that show what great and interesting people they come from.

I recently read a book to my daughter entitled, American’s Champion Swimmer: Gertrude Ederle by David Adler. It is a great book that I recommend to children, girls especially. I am using this book as an inspiration and will perhaps use its story outline as an outline for my own story. We’ll see how it goes. I don’t think I am a good writer and so I am not so sure that David Adler would be flattered with my imitation. (But I am not plagiarizing because although I am copying the way he lays out the story, the entire word creation is my own.)

Today I am going to write about my grandmother, Joyce.

Setting: initial setting is rural Oklahoma, 1921

Main story setting is Dallas 1944-1958

Main Character: Joyce

Side Characters: John (her husband)

Barney and Beulah (Her parents)?

Grandma, Grandpa S (Her grandparents)?

Someone who believes a woman’s place is in the home

Theme: Overcoming expectations of women during the 1920’s-1950’s

Plot: Introduction – what life was like on a rural Oklahoma farm in 1921

(making biscuts on a wood stove, car or wagon?, make own soap, dress like?)

- Joyce born in Martha, OK on August 20^th

- do I include her brother’s birth 2 years later?

- when did women gain the right to vote in TX and OK?

She was born and she wasn’t about to conform to the confining rules imposed upon women during that time.

Beginning -move to TX

- do I include her parent’s divorce?

- do I include being reared by her grandparents, then her father and stepmother?

- do I include her courtship with my grandfather, John?

- do I include she has 2 girls, one in 1938 and the other in 1941 when she started driving a city bus? Then she had another girl in 1945 while she was still driving? Then a boy in 1953, girl 1954 and boy in 1955, these three while they owned the paving and asphalt business? Are they boy’s birth years correct?

Climax -driving a city bus 1944

-driving a dump truck 1953

-running a business w/her husband, she was the office manager 1953-58?(when did the business stop?

-what specific instance will I use to illustrate how she encountered resistance from breaking the mold of what was expected of a women during that time?

Resolution – how she overcame the pressures against women.

- maybe a brief synopsis about her later in life.

As I am preparing to write this story I am finding that for every half hour of writing there is about an hour’s worth of research that goes into it. Boy, this is more difficult than I expected.

This doesn’t look like over a half hour of work, but I ensure you it is. Maybe tomorrow I can actually start writing instead of simply outlining, but I tried to start writing today first off and I found that I needed to give myself some sort of outline so that I knew where I was going and also so that I knew what more research I needed to do.

Whew!

Tuesday, January 22, 2008 1:48-1:59p and 2:08-2:28

On Sunday morning we drove from our Bed and Breakfast in Wingham to Dover where we walked along the White cliffs overlooking Dover. It was quite impressive, although I had seen them before. Then we headed to Dover Castle. At the castle we first began sightseeing with an hour-long guided tour of the War Tunnels. They were first built in Napoleonic times. Then during the first and second World Wars, they were used again as hospitals, hiding places, and more. They are quite extensive and very interesting. The English Heritage Foundation has poured an enormous amount of money into preserving them and making them look authentic to the time period in which they were used. From the tunnels we walked beside the castle walls and through the grounds to a Roman lighthouse and a Saxon church. I have seen a lot of churches in Europe and England specifically, but this Saxon church was one of a kind. The walls were covered in a simple tiled mosaic almost reminiscent of mosaic tiles in southern Spain, yet the designs of the tiles were not as geometric of those found in Andalucía. The church was simple, but with the soft tone of Gregorian chants in the background, it was a spectacular sight to behold. From the church we headed to the medieval castle and toured it. It is not overly decorated. It has a few minor decorations and many historical facts and information boards to help one picture in their mind what it might have looked like at the time of use. Henry VIII had influence in the building enlargement of both of the castles we toured this weekend. At Dover Castle, there were some rooms that were very hands on and the girls appreciated that. We walked around the keep compound and then headed off to the medieval tunnels. These are not nearly as impressive as the other tunnels, but they were hundreds of years older and rather eerie. I enjoyed the day. When one goes to Dover castle and visits all there is to see there, it is well worth the $20.00 entry fee per adult.

On Monday we went to Leeds Castle. This might be my favorite castle in England, maybe alongside Windsor and Warwick castles. This castle is build on Norman foundations and is situated in a man made lake. The castle was added onto over many hundreds of years to create what it is today. My favorite part was the bottom floor of the oldest part. The white-washed stone walls, the tapestry wall hangings, the intricately carved wood-paneled staircase, and the simple yet classic furniture captured my mind and allowed me to romantically daydream of what life would have been like hundreds of years ago. This castle was lived in up until the 1960’s and thus, the newest editions of the castle (18^th century) had rooms decorated in 1950’s/1960’s décor, but still tasteful and interesting. The grounds of Leeds Castle were utterly amazing. Trails surround the lake and there are many different kids of birds roaming free in addition to a large aviary on the grounds as well. There is also a nice kids play area with a wooden castle replica. It has many things for the kids to do such as a zip line, balancing beams, pedestals at various heights, slides, a climbing wall, rope ladders, punching bags, swings and so much more. The girls had a fabulous time playing. In fact, the adults also had a wonderful time playing, too. There is a nice restaurant on the castle property where we dined on gourmet snack food at a reasonable British price (which, of course is a ridiculous American price, but most British prices are ridiculous when converted to the dollar).

Overall, the entire trip was great. I walked a lot, especially pushing both kids in the stroller up and down hills. My friends, the Faulks, were very patient with me the entire time, waiting for me to nurse or feed the baby sometimes, always being patient with me juggling two kids and being much slower than them. They also helped me out a lot. I had planned on going on the trip by myself with the kids and only asked them along on the spare of the moment, but I am so glad that I did because I saw so much more with them than I would have ever seen on my own. Plus, we all seemed to have such a great time.

Monday, January 21, 2008, 7:28-8:06pm

Memoirs of a trip to Kent.

I went to Kent, England for the Martian Luther King, Jr. weekend. For my half an hour of writing today I want to “stream of consciousness” my thoughts on the trip, perhaps later putting it in an edited, orderly fashion.

Saturday morning we drove to Canterbury. I talked some friend of mine into coming along on my journey, so the trip was me with my two kids and their family of three to include a daughter the same age as my own. Since I have moved here I have always had Canterbury Cathedral on my list of places I must see before I move away. I have felt that way because of the historical significance of the Cathedral as the seat of power in the rebellious Anglican church, the interesting Canterbury Tales by Geoffrey Chaucer in the 14^th Century, and lastly, the scandals and intrigue of the things that have happened at the Cathedral such as murder and betrayal.

We arrived in Canterbury midday. As one enters the small city, the cathedral dominates the skyline. As we headed closer to city center we happened upon the awesome and intimidating medieval city walls. At one point while circling the city we were able to see the castle ruins. The entrance to the city is grand with two circular columns divided by a wall of intricate stone carvings. There is a double door entrance in at the bottom of the wall. Entering the current cathedral compound the cathedral is half hidden, but beautiful still. The inside of the cathedral was the most impressive part. I have been to more cathedrals than I can count. I probably cannot remember them all. While still a novice, I have taken great interest in learning about cathedral architecture and symbolism. The most stunning part of in interior of the cathedral would have to be the amazing stained glass throughout. My favorite window was the one at the back of the uppermost level. It had a simple alter laid in front of a window with a delicate scene of the Savior on the cross. Through each stained glass window there are vibrant colors shining into the vast, holy building. The lines in the interior of the building are clean and crisp.

There were so many parts of the cathedral that caught my attention and sincerely stand out. While we were there a choir was practicing for a concert of Mozart music. The aucustics in the building were utterly amazing, the way that the music reverberated in the building to amplify the unique sound of the chior. There are three and a half floors. The basement and foundation of the church date back to Saxon times with pilllars and wall markings from that era. Also the basement had a miniature nave and alter. In fact, there was an alter on all three levels. The part that stood out to me the most were the parts of the church that had modern art and/or modern additions. I think that this is stark and refreshing to me because it shows that this is not just an historical landmark, but this is a place where worship is still alive. It shows me that the religion that this building represents still lives in the hearts of its parishners.

So, I did not finish the whole trip in this timeframe. I will continue on the following days. . . .

Friday, January 18, 2008

Today for my blog I am going to write a few poems:

I have written poetry before, but it is always about who I am.  This poem is me trying to branch out.  I don’t branch out very far since I am still writing about me, but at least this time I am writing about my kids, too.

Being a Mom

My heart walks around outside of my body.

It plays on the playground outside the village school.

It walks unsteady on the sidewalk and sometimes falls.

It smiles coming into my room early on a Saturday Morning.

It stands all alone in the middle of the new classroom, waiting for a new friend.

It flies freely on a bicycle along the village green.

It sleeps peacefully in the room next to my own.

I look deeply into the eyes of my child.

I see the hope of the future.

I see my ancestters looking back at me.

I see a fear of being accepted.

I see a desire to become her own.

I see joy in self-accomplishment.

I see the unforgiving love I am so grateful to have.

Feeling nervous about my earlier branch out.  I decide to go back to writing about myself.  It is easier since it is the subject I know the most about.  The following poem is written in for form of the 1980 Mrs. America.  She wrote a poem like this, and now so am I. 

Positive Confessions of Me

I am kind.

I am a positive person.

I am intelligent.

I am energetic.

I am encouraging.

I am beautiful, inside and out.

I am trustworthy.

I am willing to help others.

I take responsibility for my actions and choices.

I am an educator.

I am passionate about reading and learning.

I am bold to say what I believe.

I am not afraid to be myself.

I am a world traveler.

I am considerate of others.

My family is my prized posession.

I make time for my family.

I keep in contact with those who live far from me.

I am a wife who loves her husband immensely.

I am a mother who cares deeply for her kids.

I am daughter who sincerely appreciates her parents.

I am prayerful.

I am not idle.

I am strong.

I am constantly trying to better myself.

I am the link between the past and the future.

I am a woman who reverently and worshipfully loves the Lord.

DB

Thursday, January 17, 2008

2:13 pm – 2:19 and 9:32pm -9:34, 10:29-10:37, 11:04-11:16

I had planned on working on my traveling stories during my daily writing time, but I have noticed that although I set aside time to write I have not been setting aside time to get the story prompts, initial memories off of my e-mail as starters as I did on Tuesday. I will need to do that before I work on more memoirs, so for today I will write my teaching philosophy. Last class I took one of my fellow students said that it is very beneficial to write out one’s teaching philosophy because the actual writing of the philosophy helps a person to crystallize their thinking. I hope it does that for me today. I know what I believe about teaching but I am not sure I know how to put it into words.

This is where I am starting (I copied the following paragraph out of my resume):

To educate children in a mentally challenging program that respects each child’s capabilities by furnishing developmentally and age appropriate material that not only provides the necessary learning skills but also fosters life long learning.

This is my final product:

My teaching philosophy by ME

I believe in educating children in a way that respects each child’s capabilities.

I believe in furnishing developmentally and age appropriate material to help children learn.

I believe in not only providing the necessary learning skills but also fostering life long learning.

I believe in using authentic literature as a basis of all instruction throughout each subject and content area.

I believe in treating each student with respect and recognizing their individuality.

OK I have a new train of thought. I don’t think that I am mentally making much headway with my philosophy of teaching. Maybe I need to look at other people’s examples of their philosophy of teaching. Does anyone have any that they would like to share?

For now, instead, I will share my thoughts on the day. Today it is absolutely pouring down rain. I mean I am drenched. As a friend of mine pointed out, it reminds me that I really do live on an island. The weather here is constantly changing, but there are times when I actually mark the weather by how many days it has been since it rained (i.e., it hasn’t rained in x # of days.) Today my daughter got utterly soaked on the way to school. I looked at the people around me. Some people were wearing Wellies (tall rubber boots) on the walk to school and then changing their shoes once they arrived. Others had all the appropriate wet weather gear: umbrellas, Macintoshes (heavy raincoats), waterproof covers for strollers and bike seats and much more. They are so used to the pouring wet weather that they are completely prepared and inherited by it. I admire that. For example, when I picked her up from school yesterday the wind was gusting boldly, the rain was falling sideways and still people were walking to pick up their children and waiting in the powerful weather for their children to be released from school. In the U.S., people would have driven to pick their children up and for those who would be in the weather; they would probably not have the appropriate paraphernalia. For those who would wait outside for their children, there would probably be much more complaining and commenting on it. Here, you don

I, on the other hand, come from the U.S. and Texas at that. Where I come from we are not used to such weather. We are not prepared. If it began to rain sideways we would head for cover, stand under the awnings, and not just put our hoods up. People here know how to handle continuous rain. But I don’t think that’s because they necessarily are better at such, they just have more experience at it. And they have childhood memories of how to deal with such weather. I don’t. So, unfortunately my daughter’s trousers, socks and shoes were completely drenched when she arrived at school. They were so drenched that I went home, got clean socks, shoes and trousers and took them up to the school so that she could change.

Wednesday, January 16, 2008

11:50 am -11:53 and 9:11pm -9:18 and 9:40-10:04

My husband left for the States today. Mike Green died in Afghanistan last week and Bruce is going back for the funeral. He flies in to New Orleans, meets up with Eric Walton and then goes to Biloxi, Mississippi for the funeral. Bob Grimmer, Mark Smythe, Troy Prehar, Greg Softy, and John Pearson are all going to be there, probably more people. He will come back Monday.

For today’s free writing I am going to write about my day volunteering at daughter’s school.

I had a fantastic time volunteering at my daughter’s school today. We live in a rural village in England. Paige attends the village primary school. She is four and a half years old and attends what the British call Reception, which is their first official year of school, full day. Paige has a wonderful teacher, Miss Machin. If I could personify a person as an angel, Miss Machin would be it. She is calm, cool and collected. She is ever so polite to the students and seems to never loose her cool. Even when three boys were acting up she made a sound, as to get their attention, and then peered sternly at the boys for a very long moment. Finally she said sternly, but softly, “I suggest you find something more constructive to do with your time.” Wow. I feel that just by volunteering in my daughter’s classroom I could learn so much from her teacher. Miss Machin pays attention to the students as they talk to her. She works hard to make them feel loved, accepted and valued. She points out the positives that students do. When she sees good behavior she rewards it publicly by praising the student, giving them a sticker, allowing them to do something special, giving them a cheer or a clap, sending them home with a note that tells the parent of their accomplishment or something else along those lines. When a student misbehaves she tells the class why the behavior is wrong, if the misbehavior is brought to the teacher’s attention during a class meeting, otherwise she usually speaks to the student privately.

My duties in helping out were to tend to the painting area where the students were assigned to paint the number 6. I made an example to show them. I helped 2-3 students at a time. The teacher stationed herself at a center as well, working with the students and taking anecdotal records of what the students can do. She also watched the students while they played at the nearby centers, also making notes about them as well. I was impressed how well the students stayed on task during the day. There are no desks in the classroom, only tables. Each table has a different activity at it. The students do not have a particular place to sit. This is in stark contrast to the way that I set up my Kindergarten classroom when I was teaching. I gave each of the students their own place at a table. When the students entered the classroom they were to sit at their spot and start work on their daily journal writing, which consisted of a blank sheet of paper and they were to draw and write on. After watching Paige’s classroom, I would change the way that I would teach Kindergarten. I would do more like the British system and have various activities at each table and have the students come into the classroom, put their stuff away and begin immediately to allow them to actively work at the activities at the table. I would have this time separate from the learning centers around the room which we would do at a later time.

The students sit on the floor during group activity time. Also during group activity time the students work with a learning buddy. They are instructed by the teacher how to interact with the learning buddy for each particular activity, whether they are to answer a question to the learning buddy, show them their answer, or help each other. The subject that I watched the teacher do with the whole group was numeracy (math). She was introducing to them addition and subtraction using a number line.

I am always so very impressed how high the expectations of the students are in England. And, amazingly enough, the student achieve to those expectations. At 4 ½ years old my daughter has already learned all of her letters and their corresponding sounds, she has memorized almost 30 sight words, she can easily sound out normal 3 letter words and sometimes she attacks a 4 letter word. She can count at least to 40 and do simple addition and subtraction. The teacher even gives the students instructions at the learning centers for the students to do. She writes the instructions on small pieces of paper using simple words in one sentence. They have already introduced to the students a full stop (period) to go at the end of the sentence. This too has affected how I feel I will be as a teacher in the future. I think that when I go back to teaching I have much higher expectations of my students and their parents. I will require more of them and give more ideas to the parents of ways in which they can support the learning of their students at home.

To learn the sight words, the teacher gives each student a small tin box which measures about 2”x4”x1”. In it she puts tiny laminated words. The student first receives 5 words. At the end of each week they are tested on those 5 words. IF the student knows the words they are given 5 more, if the student does not know those 5 words, then they are not give any more words. Those words are incorporated extensively when the class composes writing jointly. The teacher also asks the parents to read to the students nightly. The parents/students are given a reading log blank book to fill out each night. The parent writes what book(s) were read and the parents are also given a place to make anecdotal notes about the student (such as “my daughter is able to point to the words as I read them.”). The teacher reads over these notes about once every three weeks and gives comments in the book. At the beginning of the book are listed the school’s objective and standards in an “I can” format such as “I can hold a book correctly and turn the pages.” Or “I can point to the words on a page as they are being read aloud.” The teacher checks the objectives/standards as the students complete them to keep track of what the students can and cannot do. I think that this is a wonderful way for parents to see what standards and expectations there are of the students and also for parents, teachers and students to see the students’ learning progress. What better way to help a student learn than to make them aware of what is expected of them and doing so in a non-threatening, non-pressuring environment. There are no grades given to students in the early learning stages of the UK schooling system. Instead, they report if the students are meeting standards.

Tuesday, January 15, 2008

10:06 am 10:28am and 1:53-2:05 pm

Today I found 2 e-mails that I wrote to my parents that described a Fourth of July party that I attended, hosted by the American Embassy to Spain in Madrid. As my daily writing today, I would like to do some major revisions and add descriptive writing to it. Here is what I start with:

Friday, July 1, 2005

We go to the embassy Fourth of July party tonight. My husband said last year that is was like the beginning of some James Bond movie. Hope it is like that tonight.  He is in his uniform and I am wearing the classic black dress. All the ambassadors and attaches will be there. How exciting! Later,

We are back in the DAO office. We will go home in a few minutes. The party was really cool. There were spies there from other countries scoping us out and lots of people just being here. I guess it is the party to be at. It was the perfect setting, out on the lawn and lots of tents with free food and of course, free drinks. People wearing all sorts of fashionable and slinky gowns/dresses. Lots of fun.

Here is what I finish with:

July 1, 2005

I was surrounded by beautiful women in slinky gowns with high heels and men in full dress, military uniforms or sharp, crisp tuxedos. My husband and I, although not assigned to the US Embassy in Madrid, were attached to the embassy and therefore invited to the bash. The Fourth of July is always a big event for Americans and for American diplomats living abroad this is THE event of the year. My husband was wearing a mess dress uniform, the fanciest of all the military uniforms as it is embroidered in gold and has distinguished medals hanging from his chest. I donned a classic black dress with simple pearls. We were moving out of the country the next day. All my household goods had been packed and I saved out clothes sparingly.

The scene of the party was as if out of a James Bond movie. The evening air was warm, yet a slight wind brushed against our skin, cooling the evening and making it enjoyable. The setting was the grassy hill at the back of the embassy. A live band was staged at the top of the knoll providing upbeat background music, usually a tune by Gypsy Kings or another similar sound. At the bottom of the hill were booths covered with tents. The booths gave out free, generous portions of drinks and foods, each sponsored by a different corporation such as Tony Roma’s or the Hard Rock Café. Tuxedoed waiters walked around the outdoor gala picking up people’s glasses and handing out new drinks. My favorite drink quickly became the mojito. Looking similar to a mint julep, I don’t exactly know what it is, but the taste was refreshing and light.

Making our way around the manicured grounds, our friends from the embassy introduced us to their international counterparts. Then as those counterparts turned away we heard the background stories. Like the Chinese military attaché’s wife who could barely speak English, but sent out e-mails surprisingly perfect in grammar, punctuation. We were all sure she did not actually write any of her e-mails. Then there were the people who would remember your name perfectly as if they had mentally written it in some notebook to recall at a later date. When I casually asked my husband if there were spies at the party trying to collect information he immediately hushed me and told me not to talk about that, of course there were. When asking if our friends were spies he reassured me that they were overtly gathering their information.

Later in the evening the ambassador spoke his mild Texan Spanish and the Spaniards rolled their eyes at his staunch support of George W. Bush. Then the evening continued well into the night. We decided midnight late enough for us. We had a babysitter with our daughter and need to get back home before our move the next day. Before leaving we go up to the office to change clothes so that we won’t stand out on our way home, even riding in a taxi. As we walk out of the embassy compound we pass the armored vehicle and armed guards. Reality begins to set back in even with the sweet tunes still playing in the air.

I am sure my small experience dwarfs in comparison to the experiences of many, but considering this was the closest I would ever get to James Bond, I savor the moment and hop in the taxi.

Personal note: I need to fix the inconsistencies with tense. Past vs. present

Monday, January 14, 2008

8:22pm

I started my 7th or 8^th graduate class today. I am a little apprehensive about the class because it is an advanced writing pedagogy class and I don’t think that I am a good writer, plus literature is my specialty, not writing. But part of the class is to write for 30 minutes a day and so, here goes. . .

Some of my goals in writing 30 minutes per day are to write/edit trip reports/stories about when my husband and I lived in Spain. During that time we visited about 12 countries and I usually wrote my thoughts about our trips. During this semester I would like to use my personal writing time to work on those memoirs. My dream would be to create a book called My Year as a Professional Tourist or The Tourist Housewife or Memoirs of a Tourist or something along those lines, but that is a far off dream. To be honest, I really am not that great of a writer, but this is the chance to get better.

My second goal during would be to write some short stories geared toward children. These short stories would be based on the real lives of my family members and ancestors. The reason that I would like to do that is because I read so many stories to my children that are fictional stories or stories about other people. I would love to read them entertaining stories about people they are related to. I feel that it would give them a better understanding of who they come from. It is only when we come from that we can know where we are going.

When we lived in Spain we traveled to (2004-2005)

September France (Loire Valley, Paris, Normandy)

October Poland (Warsaw)

Czech Republic (Prague)

November Hungry (Budapest)

December Germany (Stuttgart, Wiesbaden)

January Portugal (Lisbon, Citron)

February Monaco (Monte Carlo) and France (southern) on the way to . . .

March Italy (Livorno, Pisa, Rome, Naples, Pompeii)

Vatican City

Andorra

May Spain (North, South, East and West – I would have to look at a map to remember all the places we went)

Living in England we traveled to

May 06 Germany (Stuttgart, Spangalem)

June 06 Bosnia and Herzegovina (Sarajevo and more)

Croatia (Dubrovnik and nearby peninsula)

Sept 06 Ireland (Dingle Peninsula)

Oct 06 France (Normandy, Paris)

March 07 Spain (East, Alicante)

August 07 Scotland (Inverness, Loch Ness, Hadrian’s Wall)

I plan to get on my e-mail tomorrow and download all of the memories that I have already written, then as I write each day I will rewrite them and edit.

File location: LEXAR MEDIA, D’s book, Micro countries
Micro Countries

I have quickly discovered as we have traveled through Europe is my utter fascination with micro countries. Andorra, Vatican City, and Monaco are a few examples. What is a micro country? Considering I invented the term, I would define it was a tiny country, usually consisting of a city or small mass of land. I wonder, how do they sustain their economy? Do they have their own currency and political leaders? I understand that the answers to these questions are different for each country.

Since I have such a fascination, I have had a strong desire to visit these countries, much to the chagrin of my husband who has had to drive many hours out of his way to visit such obscure places as Andorra.

8:56 pm