Gail's Blog

I am in Sea Girt, about to go to Spring Lake beach where the wind is blowing and it might get up to seventy. Here at the shore I get to allow my half-baked ideas and thoughts to come to the surface and percolate. I have wondered how on earth I've fallen so behind on taking care of my precious body/mind. I work a lot, but during work and between work I seem to take on the mindset of a beleaguered old person. "Oh, my back! I'm getting too old for this!" Maybe I am. In the meantime I struggle with the desire to keep up all commitments and still have a exercise discipline that includes yoga, weight training, and jogging. I just completed a walk/jog route from this house to Sea Girt beach and back. At first my old lady within was complaining bitterly that she was not up to it but I kept my focus, thanks to Pandora's dance aerobics channel. I felt like a hero. Heroine? But when I go home will I find the time to do this, to do yoga? Gym? How do other people do

When I was younger, my children in school, done with half-day preschool teaching, I would come here and sit. Sometimes I would take out my Pentax K-1000 and take pictures. Once I saw two women in a canoe and shot a series of them that I still have in an envelope somewhere. Other times I would think of my Greek grandfather, how he would sit and just look at water or woods, smoking. I always thought of him in nature because he was so at home in wilder places. Today I left work after two afternoon conferences. While driving home, planning to work on arrival, I had a sudden, jarring memory of how I used to allow myself the time to river-sit between work and other things. Resolutely, I drove past my exit and parked by the water instead. Miraculous! A break between work and work! The river still flows even though I haven't been watching it do so! I think I should take more breaks like this. I don't want to miss the river all together before I die. An Iranian father said to m

I've been an Episcopalian for forty years. I love the liturgy, the loopy hymns (Welcome Happy Morning, I Sing a Song of the Saints of God). I love the beautiful ones ( King of Glory, King of Peace; Wondrous Love). The words of the liturgy are second nature. But on Easter I am in two places at once: In Alexandria, VA at Christ Church, and at the Annunciation Greek Orthodox Church on W. 14th Street in Cleveland. I say the creed in English, and hear it in Greek. I sing the Trisagion in English and listen to the Greek words. I see white pews and clear windows, and in my mind there are icons everywhere. I live a rich Easter experience! I long to say Xristos Anesti and have others say Alithos Anesti, but have to be satisfied with Christ Is Risen, Indeed He is Risen. So it goes! At home we have lamb (many Episcopalians do, too) and Tzoureki (Easter Bread). Dessert is a honey cake from my ancient Greek cookbook, stains and torn pages abounding. My son-in-law, from a very Protestant whi

This is the first time I've done this. I haven't done it, yet. I've thought about it for years. What could it possibly be? Going to Vegas? Nope. Snow-boarding? Nope. Okay, give up? I'm bringing several different sized paint buckets to school so we can have drumming on the playground. Yes! I remember passing young boys doing this on street corners in DC and New York and being filled with joy at the sound. You can make music with anything, and rhythm is the backbone of music (not melody, to my way of thinking). Children love to pound on things and drumming is an expression of that pure energy of life they have so much of. I'm starting this week. Wish me luck.

I just took my car apart. Not the engine, heaven forbid! Like an archaeologist on a dig, I excavated my trunk and back seat. The top layers related to the teaching I'm doing now. This included the children's books, teaching texts, dress-ups and favorite markers I've used lately.  The second layer (sub-stratum?) consisted of the stories and materials I used last Spring at a completely different school. On the bottom laid (still) an old boombox, six "big books", and workout clothes I neglected to bring in after the gym (euw). There was a hand mixer somewhere in there, and greeting cards from last Christmas' students. Did I mention a cold-cup I forgot I had? The list goes on. When I quit my my part-time teaching job two years ago to take full-time work I brought everything I'd stored in my large classroom home. When I started teaching full-time I found out that most teachers use their cars as storage lockers. "Don't bring it in! There's no room

Thanksgiving is a bore, isn't it? We don't get much time off. We have no presents to get or give. There's no chocolate involved. Why, there aren't even any special drinks, like eggnog or champagne associated with the holiday! How can this be an American holiday? It's passe. It was invented in a much less cool era, the time of homemakers, gingham, wind-up clocks, and telephone operators. It was officially fixed in our calendar in 1941, after all. I don't think Thanksgiving is cool enough for our time. We need an alternative Thanksgiving Day. Maybe we should call a truce, where Tea Party people and Occupied people (not those who are occupied, the yearning masses longing to breath free, but the folks who occupy, when they aren't at work) have drinks and talk sports instead of the usual agita. What would we call a day like that? No, not the day hell freezes over. I don't think so. So pessimistic. Could we call it Improbably Optimistic Day? Impossibly Sensi

Yesterday I went to Loehmann's Plaza for a special series of tests on my eyes. My eye doctor wanted me to have these tests because I have a kinky (as in kinked) optical nerve and a family history of Glaucoma--mother, and both of her parents. The testing process consisted of patching one eye and then the other, and staring at a red light while using a clicker to indicate when you see a light flash. The light could be small, large, dim or bright and it moves all over your peripheral vision. It was challenging to keep my eye on the red light and not look at the flashes. The doctor, who turned out to be Greek like me, told me that there are new predictors of Glaucoma besides tension checks and it can be controlled far earlier than years ago. This wasn't something I wanted to hear. I've solidly refused to believe I could get Glaucoma. I don't want it, so I won't get it. The tests she did indicated that I have a more than average chance to get glaucoma in ten years, and t