Yesterday we observed the national Memorial Day holiday. Observed by custom, over recent decades, on the last Monday of May, it yields a long weekend for the traditional (if unoffical) first weekend of summer. As such, it forms the backdrop for picnics, backyard barbecues, and trips to the beach, the lake, or the mountains.
All of this is well and good. The older I get, the shorter summer seems to become, and I am all for squeezing every ounce of gusto out of it that we can manage. I'm always up for a trip to the mountains, a session of grilling and partaking of potluck picnic fare, or exploring some waterfront location.
But it's important, I think, that we don't let these enjoyable observations of the beginning of summer obscure for us the deeper significance of Memorial Day, or Decoration Day as it was originally called. Though the precise date and location of its origin are unknown, it clearly dates back to the Civil War. As the website www.usmemorialday.org notes, it is "likely that… every planned or spontaneous gathering of people to honor the war dead in the 1860's tapped into the general human need to honor our dead."
Memorial Day was officially first proclaimed by Union General John Logan, commander of the Grand Army of the Republic, and first observed on May 30, 1868. It is very much in keeping with the tenor of the day that, even at that early date, flowers were laid on the graves of Union and Confederate soldiers alike.
The first state to officially recognize the holiday was New York, in 1873. By 1890, again according to the website, it was recognized by all northern states, although perhaps understandably, the states of the former Confederacy resisted the trend, honoring their dead on separate days. World War One, however, brought the country together in many ways. One of those was making Memorial Day no longer about honoring the dead of the Civil War, but honoring all American servicemen (and later women) who had died fighting for their country.
The wearing of red poppies originated in the famous World War One poem, "In Flanders Fields." In 1915, Moina Mitchell was inspired by this to compose her own brief poem: "We cherish too, the Poppy red / That grows on fields where valor led, / It seems to signal to the skies / That blood of heroes never dies." She thus conceived the idea of wearing red poppies to honor those Americans fallen in battle.
At a time when more than 3,400 Americans have died in the fighting in Iraq, and hundreds more in Afghanistan, it is appropriate to pause amidst our understandable celebrations of the coming of summer to recall, for a moment, just why we commemorate this day. Westminster and some of the other municipalities of Carroll County are better at this than much of the country, it seems, honoring both the day and our fallen heroes with a parade and, often, further observances at the local cemetery.
Nonetheless I tend to agree with the views expressed on www.memorialday.com, that "Traditional observance of Memorial day has diminished over the years. Many Americans nowadays have forgotten the meaning and traditions of Memorial Day... What is needed is a full return to the original day of observance. Set aside one day out of the year for the nation to get together to remember, reflect and honor those who have given their all in service to their country."
How best to do this? Move the observation of Memorial Day back to its original date, May 30th, on whatever day that might fall. Making it an excuse for a 3-day vacation, some justly hold, undercuts the very meaning of the day, which is all about sacrifice and gratitude for that sacrifice. Without the valor and selflessness, even unto death, of those honored on this day, the U.S. would not be a nation, and neither we nor much of the rest of the world would enjoy the freedoms we so often take for granted.
In the words of General Logan, in his order proclaiming the day in 1868, "Let no vandalism of avarice or neglect, no ravages of time testify to the present or to the coming generations that we have forgotten as a people the cost of a free and undivided republic." May we not forget. May we never forget. Tomorrow marks the traditional Memorial Day, May 30th. Let us truly, and gratefully, remember.
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
Saturday, May 26, 2007
A whole new significance for "sweet sixteen"
For some reason, various radical ideas have been kicking their way around my head lately, and this is one of them: I propose that we make age 16 the legal age of majority, across the board. Radical though it may seem, there are a number of reasons to commend this notion.
One of these is simple reality. By age 16, most if not all young people already are adults, in every way that matters. Physiologically, certainly. Psycho-emotionally is perhaps more debatable. But historically, and by that I mean in every era of human history from our earliest days until at least the early decades of the 20th century, 16 year olds, both male and female, were expected to be productive members of society: adults. The women were by and large married by then; some had children already. The men held adult jobs and adult responsibilities.
If some 16 year olds today are not psycho-emotionally prepared for adulthood, I submit that it is due to the artificially prolonged childhood they “enjoy” (if that's the right word for it) in today's society. It is a cultural artifact, and as such, can be altered.
Besides, there is plenty of precedent in law for 16 year olds to be charged as adults in the case of certain violent crimes. That being so, we are either doing them a disservice by treating them as adults when they are, in fact, children, or else we are doing the rest of our youth a disservice by treating them as children when they are, in fact, adults. I suspect the latter is the case.
It would also reduce the ridiculous and almost schizoid confusion that reigns when it comes to who may do what and which age. At age 16, young people may take their own and others' lives into their hands behind the wheel of an automobile, and in most states condemn themselves to painful death by tobacco use, but they may not make free and independent decisions about sexual intimacy and marriage. At age 18, they may join the military, kill and die for their country, and vote for national, state, and local leaders, but they may not legally consume alcohol for three more years. This is, frankly, silly.
Finally, and here I return to the maturity question, most people, most of the time, have a tendency to live up -- or down -- to what is expected of them. If late adolescents and even folks of 20 or 21 are expected to be immature, childish, irresponsible, and so on, why are we surprised to find that they are? If they were expected to live as mature, responsible adults from age 16 on, I suspect that the vast majority would rise to the challenge.
Again, there is historical precedent. Compare college yearbooks, for that matter compare high school yearbooks, from the turn of the 19th and 20th centuries with ones from the turn of the 20th and 21st, and you will see immediately what I mean.
I will go further, however, and recommend that mandatory public education also be ended at age 16. However, for those entering what would otherwise be their junior or senior years of high school, there would be voluntary, optional -- and free -- opportunities for students to return and continue with academic studies for those intending to go on to college, or guided, structured internships and apprenticeship programs for those planning to enter the working world.
These two-year tracks would be open to returning students up to age 21, as I suspect that many, after spending a year or two flipping burgers, might decide that more education would be worthwhile after all. But it would be by choice, not by following the foolish and erroneous notion that college or university study is the best choice for all students, all the time.
Many students are patently not suited for higher education, but might make excellent tradesmen, technicians, mechanics, salesmen, laborers or foremen, restaurateurs, and small business owners: the very sort of people we need to rebuild our infrastructure and stop shipping jobs oversees, or pawning them off on immigrant labor.
Are these radical notions? You bet they are. Are they counter to the prevailing wisdom of conventional society? Absolutely. Could they turn our society around if implemented? Very possibly. Certainly the prevailing wisdom is not doing much to assure domestic productivity and social cohesion. Maybe trying something a little different, a little bit radical, might be just what the doctor ordered.
----------
Interestingly, a corresponded responded to me, privately by e-mail:
One of these is simple reality. By age 16, most if not all young people already are adults, in every way that matters. Physiologically, certainly. Psycho-emotionally is perhaps more debatable. But historically, and by that I mean in every era of human history from our earliest days until at least the early decades of the 20th century, 16 year olds, both male and female, were expected to be productive members of society: adults. The women were by and large married by then; some had children already. The men held adult jobs and adult responsibilities.
If some 16 year olds today are not psycho-emotionally prepared for adulthood, I submit that it is due to the artificially prolonged childhood they “enjoy” (if that's the right word for it) in today's society. It is a cultural artifact, and as such, can be altered.
Besides, there is plenty of precedent in law for 16 year olds to be charged as adults in the case of certain violent crimes. That being so, we are either doing them a disservice by treating them as adults when they are, in fact, children, or else we are doing the rest of our youth a disservice by treating them as children when they are, in fact, adults. I suspect the latter is the case.
It would also reduce the ridiculous and almost schizoid confusion that reigns when it comes to who may do what and which age. At age 16, young people may take their own and others' lives into their hands behind the wheel of an automobile, and in most states condemn themselves to painful death by tobacco use, but they may not make free and independent decisions about sexual intimacy and marriage. At age 18, they may join the military, kill and die for their country, and vote for national, state, and local leaders, but they may not legally consume alcohol for three more years. This is, frankly, silly.
Finally, and here I return to the maturity question, most people, most of the time, have a tendency to live up -- or down -- to what is expected of them. If late adolescents and even folks of 20 or 21 are expected to be immature, childish, irresponsible, and so on, why are we surprised to find that they are? If they were expected to live as mature, responsible adults from age 16 on, I suspect that the vast majority would rise to the challenge.
Again, there is historical precedent. Compare college yearbooks, for that matter compare high school yearbooks, from the turn of the 19th and 20th centuries with ones from the turn of the 20th and 21st, and you will see immediately what I mean.
I will go further, however, and recommend that mandatory public education also be ended at age 16. However, for those entering what would otherwise be their junior or senior years of high school, there would be voluntary, optional -- and free -- opportunities for students to return and continue with academic studies for those intending to go on to college, or guided, structured internships and apprenticeship programs for those planning to enter the working world.
These two-year tracks would be open to returning students up to age 21, as I suspect that many, after spending a year or two flipping burgers, might decide that more education would be worthwhile after all. But it would be by choice, not by following the foolish and erroneous notion that college or university study is the best choice for all students, all the time.
Many students are patently not suited for higher education, but might make excellent tradesmen, technicians, mechanics, salesmen, laborers or foremen, restaurateurs, and small business owners: the very sort of people we need to rebuild our infrastructure and stop shipping jobs oversees, or pawning them off on immigrant labor.
Are these radical notions? You bet they are. Are they counter to the prevailing wisdom of conventional society? Absolutely. Could they turn our society around if implemented? Very possibly. Certainly the prevailing wisdom is not doing much to assure domestic productivity and social cohesion. Maybe trying something a little different, a little bit radical, might be just what the doctor ordered.
----------
Interestingly, a corresponded responded to me, privately by e-mail:
Your proposal is not new or untried. You describe the system in place in the UK at this time. Most of Europe also embraces this philosophy. In England, where I lived for several years, students take O level exams at age 16 and choose to work, go to a trade or technical school, or move on to a college prep setting. If they choose the pre-college route, they study for 2 years and take A level exams that determine which university they may attend. University used to be free, now it is still cheap and heavily government subsidized, making it very affordable. They base admission to university on academic ability, and there are no athletic scholarships. Imagine that- university is about scholarly pursuits, not sports! As a high school English teacher and parent of teens, I see the value in your suggestion. The Europeans also have at least 4 weeks off a year in holidays from work. And they live longer than we do, enjoying a pleasant atandard of living and a less stre ssed life than Americans. Something to ponder, indeed.
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
2007 Fairie Festival at Spoutwood Farm
Please note: there are many spellings of fairie/fairy/faery, but "fairie" is how Spoutwood has chosen to spell it, so that is the form I have used throughout.
----------
On the first weekend of May, I attended a most remarkable event. Nestled into a peaceful corner of York County, PA, near the borough of Glen Rock, is Spoutwood Farm. Most of the year it quietly produces fresh, organic-quality vegetables from its community supported agriculture gardens, honey from its hives, and grapes for a local vintner. It also hosts educational programs related to sustainable agriculture, simple living, and the environment.
Once a year, however, this sleepy farm is transformed. Like Brigadoon coming out of the mists, it becomes the site of the annual May Day Fairie Festival. The Fairie Festival was the brainchild of Rob and Lucy Wood, owners of Spoutwood, and began 16 years ago as a party for 100 friends. Last year, 2006, some 12,000 people came through the gates over the three days the Festival ran, and this year, the number was closer to 15,000. Patrons came from as far away as Japan, and performers from as far as Scotland.
Why do they come? To "celebrate the beginning of spring and the return of the nature spirits to the warm world," according to the professionally-produced program. It is a participatory celebration of the spirit of nature and of the springtime, and judging by the expressions of joy and wonder on the faces of patrons both young and old, the enchantment runs deep.
To be sure, the Fairie Festival is not for everyone. I think the reality is that what one sees in the Fairie Festival is, to a large degree, based on what one brings to it. If you bring a desire for order, structure, and normalcy, as society understands these, you may be disappointed. If you're looking for creativity, freedom of spirit, and openness to difference, change, and transformation, you'll find it, in vast and indeed bewildering variety. For some, it can be an experience of sensory overload -- even, perhaps, intimidation.
Yet the spirit of the Fairie Festival is a spirit of whimsy, play, and celebration of the mythic imagination. Fairies, sprites, and pixies, dryads and Green Men, brownies, gnomes, and elves, and maybe even a sleepy dragon are among the mythical creatures found represented there, by performers, presenters, and patrons alike. Fairie wings and pixie dust abound, along with Maypole dances, the throbbing rhythms of drums, the skirl of bagpipes, the haunting melodies of Celtic music, and the driving beat of world fusion.
Music and dancing is in many ways the heart of this embodiment of the Fairie Realms here on earth: a celebration of the growing light and warmth of spring, the re-emergence of the life of trees and flowers, plants and animals -- and the re-awakening of human beings, too, as we throw off our winter torpor and embrace the springtime pulses that flow in our veins. In the drums and penny-whistles, bagpipes, fiddles, and guitars, the human spirit soars and leaps with the spirit of the season.
Food and drink (of the non-alcoholic variety) abound as well, as do rows of booths where merchants sell their fairie-themed, and usually hand-made, wares. Whether your taste is for ceramics or leather goods, jewelry or wood-carving, decorative ironwork, textiles or other visual arts, you can find it among the stalls on Frodo's Hill, Glimmer Place, Rainbow Court, or elsewhere throughout this temporary fairie village.
The Fairie Festival is about more than merriment and mythical imagination, however, important though those are. It is also about reawakening a sense of wonder and appreciation towards nature. Fairies, after all, are generally conceived as spirits of nature, of the elements -- earth, air, fire and water -- and of the Earth herself. While evoking the "Otherworld" of the Fairie Realms, the Festival also seeks to evoke love, respect, and care for this world, in all its imperilled beauty and wonder.
A particular theme of the last few years has been zero-waste, and while that ideal has yet to be fully realized in practice, the Festival generates far less waste than any event of comparable size I've ever intended. In part this is because of a policy that requires food vendors to offer serving containers and flatware, even cups, made of recyclable paper or compostable corn, soy, and potato-derived materials. Nearly everything that could be waste is compostable, recyclable, or both.
"The fairie and May Day themes," the festival brochure continues, "go back to ancient times in almost all cultures, especially to the Celts of the British Isles who had a festival on the first day of May called Beltane. It was a time of great rejoicing at the return of the earth's abundance in spring and the impending bounty of summer. The Celts celebrated the spirits of nature by honoring not only the plants that they could see and smell but also the unseen beings of the fairie realms."
So, on the first weekend of May each year, do the thousands of people who pass the portals of Spoutwood Farm for this mythical, mystical rite of spring.
----------
On the first weekend of May, I attended a most remarkable event. Nestled into a peaceful corner of York County, PA, near the borough of Glen Rock, is Spoutwood Farm. Most of the year it quietly produces fresh, organic-quality vegetables from its community supported agriculture gardens, honey from its hives, and grapes for a local vintner. It also hosts educational programs related to sustainable agriculture, simple living, and the environment.
Once a year, however, this sleepy farm is transformed. Like Brigadoon coming out of the mists, it becomes the site of the annual May Day Fairie Festival. The Fairie Festival was the brainchild of Rob and Lucy Wood, owners of Spoutwood, and began 16 years ago as a party for 100 friends. Last year, 2006, some 12,000 people came through the gates over the three days the Festival ran, and this year, the number was closer to 15,000. Patrons came from as far away as Japan, and performers from as far as Scotland.
Why do they come? To "celebrate the beginning of spring and the return of the nature spirits to the warm world," according to the professionally-produced program. It is a participatory celebration of the spirit of nature and of the springtime, and judging by the expressions of joy and wonder on the faces of patrons both young and old, the enchantment runs deep.
To be sure, the Fairie Festival is not for everyone. I think the reality is that what one sees in the Fairie Festival is, to a large degree, based on what one brings to it. If you bring a desire for order, structure, and normalcy, as society understands these, you may be disappointed. If you're looking for creativity, freedom of spirit, and openness to difference, change, and transformation, you'll find it, in vast and indeed bewildering variety. For some, it can be an experience of sensory overload -- even, perhaps, intimidation.
Yet the spirit of the Fairie Festival is a spirit of whimsy, play, and celebration of the mythic imagination. Fairies, sprites, and pixies, dryads and Green Men, brownies, gnomes, and elves, and maybe even a sleepy dragon are among the mythical creatures found represented there, by performers, presenters, and patrons alike. Fairie wings and pixie dust abound, along with Maypole dances, the throbbing rhythms of drums, the skirl of bagpipes, the haunting melodies of Celtic music, and the driving beat of world fusion.
Music and dancing is in many ways the heart of this embodiment of the Fairie Realms here on earth: a celebration of the growing light and warmth of spring, the re-emergence of the life of trees and flowers, plants and animals -- and the re-awakening of human beings, too, as we throw off our winter torpor and embrace the springtime pulses that flow in our veins. In the drums and penny-whistles, bagpipes, fiddles, and guitars, the human spirit soars and leaps with the spirit of the season.
Food and drink (of the non-alcoholic variety) abound as well, as do rows of booths where merchants sell their fairie-themed, and usually hand-made, wares. Whether your taste is for ceramics or leather goods, jewelry or wood-carving, decorative ironwork, textiles or other visual arts, you can find it among the stalls on Frodo's Hill, Glimmer Place, Rainbow Court, or elsewhere throughout this temporary fairie village.
The Fairie Festival is about more than merriment and mythical imagination, however, important though those are. It is also about reawakening a sense of wonder and appreciation towards nature. Fairies, after all, are generally conceived as spirits of nature, of the elements -- earth, air, fire and water -- and of the Earth herself. While evoking the "Otherworld" of the Fairie Realms, the Festival also seeks to evoke love, respect, and care for this world, in all its imperilled beauty and wonder.
A particular theme of the last few years has been zero-waste, and while that ideal has yet to be fully realized in practice, the Festival generates far less waste than any event of comparable size I've ever intended. In part this is because of a policy that requires food vendors to offer serving containers and flatware, even cups, made of recyclable paper or compostable corn, soy, and potato-derived materials. Nearly everything that could be waste is compostable, recyclable, or both.
"The fairie and May Day themes," the festival brochure continues, "go back to ancient times in almost all cultures, especially to the Celts of the British Isles who had a festival on the first day of May called Beltane. It was a time of great rejoicing at the return of the earth's abundance in spring and the impending bounty of summer. The Celts celebrated the spirits of nature by honoring not only the plants that they could see and smell but also the unseen beings of the fairie realms."
So, on the first weekend of May each year, do the thousands of people who pass the portals of Spoutwood Farm for this mythical, mystical rite of spring.
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
Mothers Day reflections
By the time you read this, it will be over: my first Mothers Day without my mother. As regular readers of this column will recall, my mom, Jean E. Harbold, died at the end of February this year, after a long and valiant fight against a range of increasingly debilitating ailments. To slightly paraphrase St. Paul, she fought the good fight, and she finished the race.
Since my father died in 1999, I am now, along with my brothers, an adult orphan. And since I do not have a wife or family of my own, and lived with my mother as her companion and caregiver in the final years of her life, the loss is particularly acute.
The combination of choosing to focus on good memories, and throwing myself wholesale into my work, has helped to blunt the pain to some degree, but it recurs at odd times. And of course, seeing the ads and cards and all the panoply of commercial and sentimental marketing of Mothers Day just makes me remember how much I wish I had my mother back to buy a card for, take out to dinner, hug, and tell her I love her.
I think it's wonderful to have a Mothers Day to remember our mothers once a year. But I am sometimes concerned that all too often, we take our mothers for granted the rest of the year. Remembering them becomes something to be fit in around the essentials of life, rather than being one of those essentials. And that's a shame. Mothers deserve better.
Although there are unfortunate exceptions, mothers, as a whole, are wonderful people who are often deeply under-appreciated for all the things they give their children. These gifts start with the gift of life itself, of course. Our mothers bore us for nine months before we ever came into the world, and -- again, in most cases -- were largely responsible for providing us with the sustenance, care, and nurturance we need to survive and thrive thereafter.
I was fortunate, I believe, that my own mother was a full-time, stay-at-home mom. But I am also in awe of the mothers who manage to raise balanced, well-rounded, productive children to adulthood while working, and sometimes without the aid of a husband and father.
Parents in general, but mothers in particular, typically make a huge number of sacrifices for the good of their children: sacrifices of time, energy, and money that often go unnoticed by their beneficiaries, especially during childhood. Later, perhaps, looking back, adult children may realize the scope of the gifts they have been given.
If we are fortunate, we may have the opportunity to pay some of that care back in the care we give to our aging mothers, "pay it forward" by following their examples in the care of our own children, if we have any, or more likely a combination of both. That, at least, is the way the world should work.
So if you are fortunate enough to have a mother, take some time to show her your gratitude for all she has done for you: not just on Mother's Day, but all year. Take the time to truly talk to her, listen to her memories, and tell her how much you care, how much you appreciate her sacrifices and generosity over the years. And if for some reason you don't have a good relationship with your mother, perhaps this is a good time to mend fences.
Above all, be grateful that you have a mother, however imperfect she may be, because the time will come when you do not. How sad if she were to die with things left unsaid, love unexpressed, between you!
And if, like me, you no longer have a mother living, take comfort in the knowledge that you are not alone. Sadly, burying one's parents is inevitable, unless one dies first. Recall the good times. Set aside any that may have been less good. Be grateful for all the gifts your mother gave you, over the years: not just or even primarily material things, but sayings, teachings, stories, hugs, shared memories. If, again like me, you believe that death is not the end, remember that there will be a meeting again.
And to all you moms out there, thank you for all you've done and continue to do for your children. May blessings of health, long life, and joy be yours.
Since my father died in 1999, I am now, along with my brothers, an adult orphan. And since I do not have a wife or family of my own, and lived with my mother as her companion and caregiver in the final years of her life, the loss is particularly acute.
The combination of choosing to focus on good memories, and throwing myself wholesale into my work, has helped to blunt the pain to some degree, but it recurs at odd times. And of course, seeing the ads and cards and all the panoply of commercial and sentimental marketing of Mothers Day just makes me remember how much I wish I had my mother back to buy a card for, take out to dinner, hug, and tell her I love her.
I think it's wonderful to have a Mothers Day to remember our mothers once a year. But I am sometimes concerned that all too often, we take our mothers for granted the rest of the year. Remembering them becomes something to be fit in around the essentials of life, rather than being one of those essentials. And that's a shame. Mothers deserve better.
Although there are unfortunate exceptions, mothers, as a whole, are wonderful people who are often deeply under-appreciated for all the things they give their children. These gifts start with the gift of life itself, of course. Our mothers bore us for nine months before we ever came into the world, and -- again, in most cases -- were largely responsible for providing us with the sustenance, care, and nurturance we need to survive and thrive thereafter.
I was fortunate, I believe, that my own mother was a full-time, stay-at-home mom. But I am also in awe of the mothers who manage to raise balanced, well-rounded, productive children to adulthood while working, and sometimes without the aid of a husband and father.
Parents in general, but mothers in particular, typically make a huge number of sacrifices for the good of their children: sacrifices of time, energy, and money that often go unnoticed by their beneficiaries, especially during childhood. Later, perhaps, looking back, adult children may realize the scope of the gifts they have been given.
If we are fortunate, we may have the opportunity to pay some of that care back in the care we give to our aging mothers, "pay it forward" by following their examples in the care of our own children, if we have any, or more likely a combination of both. That, at least, is the way the world should work.
So if you are fortunate enough to have a mother, take some time to show her your gratitude for all she has done for you: not just on Mother's Day, but all year. Take the time to truly talk to her, listen to her memories, and tell her how much you care, how much you appreciate her sacrifices and generosity over the years. And if for some reason you don't have a good relationship with your mother, perhaps this is a good time to mend fences.
Above all, be grateful that you have a mother, however imperfect she may be, because the time will come when you do not. How sad if she were to die with things left unsaid, love unexpressed, between you!
And if, like me, you no longer have a mother living, take comfort in the knowledge that you are not alone. Sadly, burying one's parents is inevitable, unless one dies first. Recall the good times. Set aside any that may have been less good. Be grateful for all the gifts your mother gave you, over the years: not just or even primarily material things, but sayings, teachings, stories, hugs, shared memories. If, again like me, you believe that death is not the end, remember that there will be a meeting again.
And to all you moms out there, thank you for all you've done and continue to do for your children. May blessings of health, long life, and joy be yours.
Sunday, May 13, 2007
Remembering Ma on Mothers Day
I actually wrote this the day before she passed on, when it was clear that the end was coming. Normally I prefer poems in rhymed verse, but this is what came out. Posting it here, now, seems an appropriate tribute on this first Mother's Day Sunday without her.
Tom
It seems that all creationI miss you, Ma. And I love you.
Must surely weep
For the passing of such a gentle soul
Loving
Kind
Gentle hands yet strong
Committed to each needful task
Cooking the family meals
Cleaning house
Laundry, folded neatly twice a week
Hands pressing out the wrinkles
Sewing up each rent, each tear, each worn place
In the life of her family
Her actions, each and all, making a home
But not alone through labor
Did she serve
But quiet faith
Burning like a candle
In the dark night of our souls
A blanket of prayers
To bring her wandering children safely home
Enfolding us in love
Divine and yes her own
Not perfect, no
Only One ever was perfect, within this mortal veil
But she served Him
As she served us
And taught us to do the same
Twinkling eyes of hazel green
That could snap like fire
In case of need
A ready smile
A way with words, uniquely hers
A touch of mischief
Irrepressible
Indominable
A solid anchor
In life’s storms
Gentle, soothing hands
To stroke away all pain
All pain but the loss of her
Tom
Tuesday, May 01, 2007
No Child Left Inside
Okay, you know about “No Child Left Behind,” but do you know about “No Child Left Inside”? In case you've been sleepwalking through the last five or six years, No Child Left Behind is the propaganda… errr… umm… excuse me, public relations name given to the reauthorization of the Elementary and Secondary Education Act (EASA), and was signed into law in 2002. It is controversial, and justly so, for subjecting students and teachers alike to a regimen of standardized tests in the name of “accountability.”
The No Child Left Inside Initiative is in some ways almost the polar opposite of ESEA. Signed into law on April 21st -- John Muir's birthday - by Washington state governor Christine Gregoire, the initiative will provide $1.5 million a year to outdoor education programs working with underserved youth in the state, according to a press release by the Children and Nature Network.
Nor is Washington the only such forward-looking state. New Mexico's legislature passed, in March, the Outdoor Classrooms Initiative, an effort to increase outdoor education in the state through the use of state parks, federal public lands, ranches, nature centers and other locations, again according to the C&NN (not to be confused with CNN, the cable news provider).
Martin LeBlanc, vice president of C&NN and national youth education director for the Sierra Club, was quoted as stating that “In pursuing a national Leave No Child Inside movement, our goal is to secure this level of support for all children in every state.” That is indeed a worthy goal. But it's sadly ironic that government support is needed to get children outside to play.
I clearly remember my own youth, in which “go outside and play” was a commonly-heard refrain, often coupled with “it's too nice a day to be indoors.” And go outside and play I did, often and for extended periods.
Either alone or with friends from the neighborhood, I built forts in the woods, climbed trees, explored (and splashed, and occasionally fell) in the streams, and created whole worlds of fantasy and imagination -- just the sort of self-directed, unstructured free play experts now hail as essential for psychological and emotional development in children, not to mention the development of an ecological consciousness.
Free play in the outdoors is the absolute antithesis of standardization and cramming for tests. Perhaps that's one of the reasons it may seem threatening to some educators, government officials, and even parents.
From “the land of the free and the home of the brave,” I am struck -- and not positively -- by the way in which 21st century Americans have become willing to let the government make their decisions for them, in effect almost live their lives for them, dictating everything from how subjects are taught in schools to what kinds of food we can and cannot eat.
The much-quoted ideal that “that government is best which governs least” seems to have been left lying wounded somewhere along the road to a plasticized, idealized, technotopian future.
One of the ways in which governments can provide a positive impetus, however, is in funding opportunities for children to get out into the wider world of nature and play. If the so-called “learning” and “educational” opportunities are not themselves too structured -- remember the wise dictum that “the work of children is play” -- these kinds of programs can provide a healthy (in every sense of the word) counterbalance to our increasingly inward-looking, indoor, virtual, and regimented future.
But come on, folks: we don't need to wait for the government to fund our children's play. In fact if we do, we're just buying into the system again. All we really need are parents willing to encourage, if not require, that their children get out from behind the PlayStation or X-Box, up from in front of the TV or DVD player or internet-enabled computer, and go outside to play.
Yes, it may require a bit more parental supervision. But then, any of the aforementioned indoor, technological activities really requires more supervision than it often receives. And anything worth doing requires making choices, and setting priorities.
What is your priority for your children? To be cogs in a well-oiled machine? Or to know and appreciate the beauty, grandeur, and awe-inspiring possibilities of the natural world within which we live? The choices we make, for ourselves and our children, have never been more important, for our future and theirs. Let's choose to leave no child inside.
The No Child Left Inside Initiative is in some ways almost the polar opposite of ESEA. Signed into law on April 21st -- John Muir's birthday - by Washington state governor Christine Gregoire, the initiative will provide $1.5 million a year to outdoor education programs working with underserved youth in the state, according to a press release by the Children and Nature Network.
Nor is Washington the only such forward-looking state. New Mexico's legislature passed, in March, the Outdoor Classrooms Initiative, an effort to increase outdoor education in the state through the use of state parks, federal public lands, ranches, nature centers and other locations, again according to the C&NN (not to be confused with CNN, the cable news provider).
Martin LeBlanc, vice president of C&NN and national youth education director for the Sierra Club, was quoted as stating that “In pursuing a national Leave No Child Inside movement, our goal is to secure this level of support for all children in every state.” That is indeed a worthy goal. But it's sadly ironic that government support is needed to get children outside to play.
I clearly remember my own youth, in which “go outside and play” was a commonly-heard refrain, often coupled with “it's too nice a day to be indoors.” And go outside and play I did, often and for extended periods.
Either alone or with friends from the neighborhood, I built forts in the woods, climbed trees, explored (and splashed, and occasionally fell) in the streams, and created whole worlds of fantasy and imagination -- just the sort of self-directed, unstructured free play experts now hail as essential for psychological and emotional development in children, not to mention the development of an ecological consciousness.
Free play in the outdoors is the absolute antithesis of standardization and cramming for tests. Perhaps that's one of the reasons it may seem threatening to some educators, government officials, and even parents.
From “the land of the free and the home of the brave,” I am struck -- and not positively -- by the way in which 21st century Americans have become willing to let the government make their decisions for them, in effect almost live their lives for them, dictating everything from how subjects are taught in schools to what kinds of food we can and cannot eat.
The much-quoted ideal that “that government is best which governs least” seems to have been left lying wounded somewhere along the road to a plasticized, idealized, technotopian future.
One of the ways in which governments can provide a positive impetus, however, is in funding opportunities for children to get out into the wider world of nature and play. If the so-called “learning” and “educational” opportunities are not themselves too structured -- remember the wise dictum that “the work of children is play” -- these kinds of programs can provide a healthy (in every sense of the word) counterbalance to our increasingly inward-looking, indoor, virtual, and regimented future.
But come on, folks: we don't need to wait for the government to fund our children's play. In fact if we do, we're just buying into the system again. All we really need are parents willing to encourage, if not require, that their children get out from behind the PlayStation or X-Box, up from in front of the TV or DVD player or internet-enabled computer, and go outside to play.
Yes, it may require a bit more parental supervision. But then, any of the aforementioned indoor, technological activities really requires more supervision than it often receives. And anything worth doing requires making choices, and setting priorities.
What is your priority for your children? To be cogs in a well-oiled machine? Or to know and appreciate the beauty, grandeur, and awe-inspiring possibilities of the natural world within which we live? The choices we make, for ourselves and our children, have never been more important, for our future and theirs. Let's choose to leave no child inside.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)