Tag: history

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A Calm Christmas: Heritage

Photo by Luna Lovegood on Pexels.com

This December, I’m slowly making my way through Calm Christmas and a Happy New Year by Beth Kempton (2019), and in Chapter 1, Kempton presents The Five Stories of Christmas that focus on faith, magic, connection, abundance, and heritage. Today’s focal thoughts center on heritage.

Kempton invites readers to reflect on these aspects of heritage:

What is your view of traditions related to midwinter, such as decorating your home with evergreens and celebrating the winter solstice? What sort of weather do you associate with Christmas, and what impact does it have on how you expect to feel and what you expect to do this time of year? What particular traditions have been handed down through your family and become part of your personal Christmas story, and how do you feel about them? Do you plan to maintain them?

We’ve never specifically celebrated Winter Solstice, but we have traditionally celebrated winter with a Christmas tree in our home, whether real or artificial, along with a wreath on the door as well. Having grown up on an island, I always wanted snow but never had a true “White Christmas” until 1989, when the snow set in the evening before Christmas Eve and amounted to about 6 inches in the coastal area of South Carolina where we lived at the time. Weather never had an impact on our holiday season, since most of the time it was warm and sunny. In fact, there were Christmases that we could have sunbathed on the beach.

Traditions that have been handed down include gift giving and celebrating Christmas morning around the tree with a breakfast casserole in the oven, warm cinnamon rolls, and coffee and juice. There were many years that my mother hosted a formal Christmas dinner at high noon with extended family around the table, and while I loved it, a formal meal on Christmas Day is not a tradition that I would be successful in continuing, as families are growing and beginning their own traditions. At this point, my husband and I are happy to travel or to be home – whichever works out best for those family members with young children. Also, we often spread the celebration times around so that we are not locked into the one day of Christmas being our dedicated day to gather.

In writing our Christmas narratives, Kempton reminds us that “much of the stress of Christmas comes from either not giving ourselves permission to evolve our inherited narrative, or from the pressure to evolve it into something that is out of alignment with what, deep down, we believe about Christmas….What we need is a way to marry what matters to us with what matters to those we love, and then let go of the rest.”

I couldn’t agree more. Having traditions and memories creates rootedness and belonging, but it’s a double-edged sword in creating a rigidness that prevents us from embracing new ways of doing things and being flexible in our thinking. Things don’t always have to be done the way they’ve always been done. It’s my turn to celebrate with my children – and their children – in the way that they choose to honor, celebrate, and keep Christmas!

On a scale of 1 to 10, I’d rate heritage as it relates to family traditions as a 4 or 5 in importance. These ratings will become part of a Christmas constellation in tomorrow’s post.

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Memories of Boston: A Picture Tour

On the final full day of the NCTE Convention in Boston, I gave myself permission to attend a half day and take a half day to explore Boston with my husband on his first visit to this iconic city. In 2005, I’d summered just 20 minutes from Boston in Milton, Massachusetts, where I’d stayed on the campus of Curry College doing research as part of a graduate degree program. I’ve visited a few times since, most recently in 2022.

So

much

has

changed!

Since the weather was cold and rainy and we were woefully wardrobe-unprepared, we decided to catch the Old Town Trolley tour and sit back and relax, listening to the history as we rode in the heated bus. I purchased tickets online and added them to my Apple Wallet, jumping on at Stop 15: The Boston Convention Center.

The sign doesn’t fully tell the story. You have to add the wind.
Thank goodness for a heated tour bus.
Faneuil Hall, one of my favorite places in Boston – I purposely didn’t edit the photograph, because I love the spaciousness of Boston and all the old bricks.
My husband had walked the Freedom Trail the day before, but the Old Town Trolley gave us a narrated history of many more landmarks.
We went in for a late lunch without a wait. We ate enough that we were too full for supper, and we shared our meal.
The Union Oyster House is directly across from the Holocaust Memorial.
Someone at our table enjoyed a Samuel Adams lager, sheerly for the nostalgia.
New England Clam Chowdah
When in Boston, one should sample the Boston Baked Beans.
We shared an Oyster Roll.
The Union Oyster House has its window decorations up, and I snapped a quick photo of this miniature replica of the UOH decorated for Christmas, with the Holocaust Memorial in the reflection of the window. This may be my favorite photograph I took on the tour.
Changing leaves

I believe my favorite part of the tour was the changing leaves. There’s nothing like New England in the fall, with all its vibrant colors and crisp air.

Boston’s Seaport District at night
When you leave town without enough warm clothes, you find a new sweatshirt to help you remember that time you ate in the nation’s oldest continuously operating restaurant……
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Plimoth-Patuxet Thanksgiving Dinner

House in the Pilgrim Colony

After traveling the final leg of our loop around New England on Wednesday afternoon from West Chesterfield, New Hampshire to Plymouth, Massachusetts, we visited the Plimoth-Patuxet Museum sites on Wednesday and Thursday. Our first stop was to Plymouth Rock, and our second was to the Mayflower II. At these exhibits, we learned a little more about the history of the voyage the Pilgrims made – the risks they took and the price they paid.

Realistic role-playing Pilgrim

On Thursday, we visited the Pilgrim colony and shared in the Thanksgiving Dinner right in the area where the first Thanksgiving dinner was held. We were pleased that a historian was sharing the history with us so that we could hear accurate accounts from primary sources. We were also impressed that the Pilgrim village was created with historical accuracy, with role-playing realistic Pilgrims who go about their village and house chores while inviting questions and observations from visitors. We even saw a real goose being cooked on a spit and a mother Pilgrim teaching her son some culinary skills.

A mother teaches her son culinary skills ~ note the goose fat dripping from the spit.

The Pilgrims spoke with the accents and language of their time, and answered any questions from those witnessing their chores and conversations.

This pilgrim is describing how they kept the fire burning.

I entered one of the homes to find a young man seated by the fire wearing a tan vest and keeping warm. It was miserably cold and raining on this Thanksgiving holiday as we walked outdoors bundled up with umbrellas, thankful we both had waterproof shoes. I told him I thought he had the best seat in the house. He asked if I had any questions.

“Just one,” I replied. “Did anyone ever feel safe?”

He rubbed his chin for a moment, considering this before responding, “What a question!”

After a pause, he replied that they did feel safe, because their strong faith in the Lord depended on their ultimate faith in him, and whatever consequence brought about was by His provisioning.

Satisfied, I thought about the 2-month voyage that they had taken across the Atlantic Ocean – risking it all in the name of religious freedom – and concluded that he was probably right. He seemed to be answering from the perspective of safety of belief, whereas my question was more from a physical context in terms of Native tribes and wild animals, having seen the guns and cannons in the meeting house that afforded lookout-level views outside the gated village.

“Did anyone ever feel safe?” is the question I asked of this colonist.

At 2:30, we found our table with our place cards and met the others who would be seated at our table. There were three other couples and two children eating with us. After some introductions, we began sipping our cider and passing the plate of cheese, crackers, and grapes as appetizers. Our meal menu was inspired by the 1863 Thanksgiving meal served to students at Harvard University. In the museum, there is a timeline and display that sequences the progression of the Thanksgiving meal from the 17th century to today, along with the types of dishes and utensils that would have been used at each meal.

Visitors have two options for the Thanksgiving meals served at Plymouth-Patuxet Museum. The choices include a buffet meal served at The Craft House or a plated meal with formal dining served in the Visitor Center. The formal dinner includes The Story of Thanksgiving, told by the chief historian as a narrative along with a member of the Wampanoag tribe and a Pilgrim descendant. This is the meal we chose, simply because with so much controversy often surrounding this holiday, we wanted to seek understanding of the facts from a historian’s explanation of what really happened. The reading of the land honorarium was a meaningful part of the meal, along with the customary toast given.

My plated meal before I added cranberry sauce to go with the dressing hiding under the turkey
The customary toast, given by the chief historian at Plimoth-Patuxet Museums


After a traditional toast before dessert, the museum had one more offering in store for Thanksgiving guests. Even though we had planned to get on the road back to Boston at the conclusion of our meal, we took advantage of the opportunity to see Wicked at the Linn Theater at 4:30 before making the drive to Boston to turn in our rental car and check into our room for the night.

The later arrival into Boston was more than worth making the time to see the movie! Already, we are talking about the next time we can go back and enjoy more of New England.

But nothing……nothing……not one thing……compares to arriving back home. A great vacation, for us, is one that we don’t want to end – while at the same time looking forward to being back in our own space, back in our own bed. It’s one that cultivates a deep appreciation for other places and people while at the same time making us more grateful for our own little corner of the world and our strong sense of belonging we feel in it.

So from my writing chair this morning, by my own fire with its modern gas logs that simply require me to push a button to feel the warmth and see the light of its flames, I wish you all the adventures of travel and the comforts of home.

We’re blessed to experience the ride!

My writing chair this morning, 11/30/2024
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Traveling to Boston for NCTE: Departure and Arrival

Water Taxi from Airport to Hotel – in Boston Harbor -it’s the best way to arrive in Boston in warm months (note to self: it’s cold and windy on the water in November)

yesterday we came

to the big city: Boston

but our hearts are home

Nothing grounds me, pulling on my rural roots and centering my belonging more than putting on my sweatpants, wrapping up in a jacket, and throwing on my dew-proof duck boots for a walk with the dogs in November on the Johnson Funny Farm, one hour south of Atlanta, Georgia but as rural as Little Red Riding Hood’s deep woods with all the mystery. I smell the wet earth of morning wafting up from beneath the pine straw, see the falling leaves and misty haze through the thicket, and hear the lone woodpecker overhead, calling to us from the towering Loblolly pines. I’ll carry the country silence of my Sunday morning walk with the boys close to my heart all week as we travel. I’ll miss them, and I will pull up these blog photos below many times while I’m away. The one with Ollie trying to be a stowaway will bring tears by the end of the weekend.

I know that there is much to look forward to in the city beyond the NCTE Conference, where I, along with my writing group, will be presenting our latest series of books for teachers on Thursday. We’ll see the nation’s history unfold along the Freedom Trail if the weather permits, and from there, following the NCTE Convention, we’ll explore several New England states and share Thanksgiving Dinner at Plimoth Plantation as we see The Thanksgiving Story come to life on stage.

As we share in our love of travel, though, there is nothing that compares to coming home. To being home. To belonging, and to feeling the sanctuary of our space here in rural Georgia with our three rescue schnoodles – Ollie, who walks with his nose up, sniffing the air all around him, Fitz, who walks with his nose to the ground, sniffing what has been there before him, and Boo Radley, whose nose and eyes are always directly ahead so that he doesn’t miss a thing. It seems silly, really, to have to walk these boys on a leash in all this space, but out here we never know what wildlife we’ll encounter, and they are prone to chase everything from deer to cattle and donkeys that get loose from nearby pastures. We don’t take any chances.

As we fly out on this work conference and extended adventure, it is comforting to know that our return ticket will bring us right back where we belong.

This is what country folks look like when we take walks on the farm.
Noses: on ground, in air, straight ahead
A few sounds of the country
Ollie confirms that his people are leaving on a trip and looks for space to fit in
Sharing dinner before the conference frenzy begins (From L-R: Tammi Belko, Dawn Lanca-Potter, Kim Johnson, Sarah Donovan, Leilya Pitre, and Denise Krebs at Layla’s American Tavern, Boston)
Sarah Donovan and me – Sarah’s writing group at http://www.ethicalela.com saved my life as I struggled with grief over the death of my mother in 2015. And we’ve been writing ever since.
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Heat Advisory

we cancelled

camping

for the heat

advisory

so I asked

what we’d do ~

take a tour

of Kroger’s

freezer section?

stand in Sam’s

where they sell

the milk and butter?

take cool comfort

in the movie

theater?

we talked

we discussed

we decided

we bought tickets

to the Immersive Titanic

exhibit in Atlanta

we’ll wear jackets

and talk through

chattering teeth

counting the minutes

back to the heat

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They Came Three to a Mule

I was in the local grocery store yesterday to buy four cans of pumpkin puree to make our holiday pumpkin bread. A purchase in this particular store is rare, since prices are tremendously inflated in our small rural town. We often go to the next city over to buy a full week’s worth of groceries, but if I only need an item or two, I’ll justify the cost of the items using the cost of gas and time. 

The gas is a sure’nuff savings, but the time is questionable when you don’t know the layout of the store. With an item like pumpkin, it might be on the holiday baking display, the canned fruit, or the baking aisle. In this tiny store where two carts barely fit side by side on any aisle, I’d scoured the shelves, finally stopping for a breath on the pasta aisle, where I remembered we needed macaroni and cheese for Christmas Eve to go with our ham. 

As I reached for the dark blue Kraft Deluxe box I usually buy, I saw the price and it might as well have been a snake striking. There was no way I was paying $5.89 for a box of macaroni and cheese. No way my mama’s memory would let me even think about it. I studied every other brand, including the store brand, and it was the same. Too much. We’d do without. 

About that time, a man wearing denim overalls, work boots, and a flannel shirt ambled up with his hand basket up to his elbow, about to purchase the same box I’d wanted. He retracted his hand like that box was a hot potato when he saw the price. He did a double-take.

“It’s a sad day when a man can’t afford no macaroni and cheese, ain’t it?” 

“Yes, sir,” I confirmed. ”I’m going to be mac-and-cheeseless, too,” I assured him, nodding toward my empty cart that I didn’t really need – – a hand basket like his would have sufficed.  

He sucked his teeth and pursed his lips. ”Well, I ain’t buyin’ none,” he muttered, walking on.

I finally had to ask directions to the pumpkin aisle. The first worker, a young teenager stocking bread, had no idea what I needed. ”Wait, it’s pumpkin in a can??”

“Yes, that’s right. It’s pureed pumpkin. Any brand will do. I usually buy Libby’s.” I could tell he was hung on both the word pureed and the idea of pumpkin in a can. It seemed to be blowing his mind, this pureed pumpkin in a can. My mind trailed back to my deep discussions with our Curriculum Coordinator about the need for more emphasis on vocabulary instruction in our schools earlier in the week. 

He said he’d have to ask, and off he went – never to return.

I ventured back to the main aisle, looking for a different worker down each aisle the same way wives look for lost husbands, finally finding an older teenage female sitting on the floor stocking cans. She paused. ”Aisle 2,” she said. ”I had to think about that one for a minute,” she confessed. “Look right past the fruit cups on the left at the top.”

Sure enough, on a top shelf, there was the Libby’s I’d missed the first time I’d looked, sitting back at an angle. I reached up, pulled 4 cans forward, and headed to the register to check out.

Two checkers were slammed, so a third opened Register 5. An older gentleman wearing jeans with a huge belt buckle, a pair of shiny cowboy boots, a button down shirt, and a thin jacket stepped over to place my bag in the cart. I wasn’t sure whether he even worked there or not, but as I was wondering, he read my pumpkin label and removed all doubt.

“Ah, Libby’s,” he read, prompting a knowing smile. ”Back in the early days, we had the best price on Libby’s vegetables. 59 cents for a 16-ounce can. Folks came three to a mule for Libby’s vegetables.” His eyes had that reflective sparkle that the older generation gets whenever the memories of simpler times come rushing back. 

And then I made a mistake I regretted when I got to the car. I nodded, smiled, took my bag, and said, “Thank you, sir,” and exited the store. I should have asked about those days. I should have asked about those vegetables. I should have asked for a story that now I’ll never hear.

I learned some things yesterday, because I missed at least two opportunities with the macaroni and cheese man and the Libby’s man to learn some history. 1) Next time, I’ll find the oldest person to ask about where to find things. 2) I’ll take time to talk a little more to those who initiate conversation. 3) I’ll initiate more conversations myself – – because there are so many stories that folks need to tell, and that I need to write.

And I feel their empty space.

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#VerseLove April 23 – with Alexis Ennis

Alexis Ennis is our host today for #VerseLove, inspring us to write poems about historical figures. You can read her full prompt here. I chose Teddy Roosevelt’s firstborn child as my figure.

TR’s diary entry Valentine’s Day when both his mother and wife died, one upstairs, one downstairs. 
 As a preacher's kid (we seem to have a reputation to live down to, and I've always done my best to keep the trouble going), I was a reader drawn to the troublemakers like Queenie Peavy by Robert Burch in children's literature and Alice Roosevelt in biographies.  So that favorite interview question about whom I'd bring back if I could go to lunch with anyone?  Yeah, mine was always Alice Roosevelt, with footnotes about how she and I would have surely landed in jail together, cellmates somewhere for some crazy idea we hatched.  She had her own eye color named for her (and the US Navy uses this color named for her on its insignia).  So much more to tell about her, but here's the seed-starter packet:  



Eyes of Alice Blue



not under MY roof

her father TR told her

of smoking her cigs



she puffed on the roof

her snake Emily Spinach

there too, in her purse



no Taft supporter~

a murrain on him! she raged

blue eyes her namesake



what a character!

completely out of control

she fascinates me!



come sit by me if

you don’t have something nice to

say about someone!



born two days before

mom died upstairs, grandma down

under the same roof



death clouded her birth,

Alice Roosevelt Longworth

lived in those shadows



For Alice Roosevelt Longworth 

https://www.smithsonianmag.com/history/from-a-white-house-wedding-to-a-pet-snake-alice-roosevelts-escapades-captivated-america-180981139/
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February’s Open Write with Stacey Joy

Stacey Joy never fails to bring joyful and inspiring poetry prompts.  Her free verse is a perfect way to begin this month’s Open Write.  You can read it here on EthicalEla.com, and join us in writing today. The blackbirds are such beautiful symbols of the flight to freedom in the story, and on this weekend of the Great Backyard Bird Count when so many are counting birds, I’ll reflect back on this story and her poem and be reminded that freedom as people and as a nation is a blessing that took blood, sweat, and tears – and lives – to have and hold.  She inspired me to choose an etheree to write about one of my favorites, also with a theme of freedom – The Legend of the Teddy Bear by Frank Murphy.  

They Called Him Teddy

When Roosevelt let a wild bear go free,

The Washington Post ran a cartoon.

Rose and Morris Michtom took note.

In their candy store, she sewed~

Commemorating choice~

Celebrating strength~

Their idea: our

Nation’s first

Teddy 

Bear

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Remembering, Sharing, Meditating on the Past: My 2023 Reflection Goals

Dad shares 1950s football stories with Aidan as they play ball together, December 2023

In 2013, I abandoned the notion of New Year’s Resolutions when I realized that not one resolution I had ever made survived more than a few weeks. Instead, I began listing goals for the year in different areas and taking time to reflect each week or so to update what I had done in those areas. It began in the NOTES section on my phone. Today, I reflect back to 2013 and the goals I established. I copied and pasted the first two of my ten goals from that year:

2013 Goals

Physical Goal #1: lose 50 pounds in 5 months. 

Action Plan: join Weight Watchers for diet and add exercise plan of walking. Seek exercise bike in March when everyone else gives up and sells them. Drink only water in restaurants. 

I need to make myself a countdown reward system to Marshall and Selena's wedding in May.

1/3/13. * I began counting points on January 2 for Weight Watchers. I weighed on day 1 to mark my starting point. 

1/15/13 I am down 13 pounds from January 1. I can lose 37 pounds by the wedding day. 

1/21/13 now sixteen pounds down and I can lose 34 pounds by May 25! 

2/7/13 now down 22 pounds and I can lose 28 pounds by May 25!

3/5/13 down 23 pounds and I can lose 28 pounds by May 25!

7/25/13 back at it. Up ten from last weigh, but down 14 from start of year! Brushing off and getting back in the groove....starting my point counting system again today. 

Educational goal #2: enter a doctoral program in fall 2013. 

Action plan: research programs in the first quarter of the year and measure against Georgia PSC requirements. Take GRE in February or March. Apply to schools in March.  Make decisions in May or June. Enter a program in the summer or fall. 

* Beth gave me some research on Univ of Florida to be considered

I am rethinking Walden, since I already have the first course completed there but had to stop for divorce.

1/18/2013 I completed the application to Walden, faxed my certificate, emailed my résumé and requested my transcript from University of West Georgia. One school down. I need to work on financial aid. 

1/24/13 I submitted FAFSA and requested pin. 

1/29/13 I am accepted back and they will honor my existing credit. Awaiting financial aid decision.

2/7/13 they will let me resume my program and have me ready to start March 4! Waiting on financial aid information to be processed by Walden. 

3/5/2013 I began my second course in the program officially yesterday. I am on track.

7/25/13 I am a module ahead in my third course in the program. Also registered for my residency in December in Washington, DC. Things are going well and I am enjoying the challenges.

Back to 2023: I look back on these 2013 goals and smile because setting goals, establishing action steps, and adding a measure of accountability actually works – it’s the recipe for success when there is follow-through and intention. Today’s banner picture was taken at my son’s May 2013 wedding, and while I didn’t reach my goal in time for the wedding, I could at least fit in the dress. In all but one of my ten goal areas of that year, I am doing much better today than I was then. I’m within six pounds of the top of my goal range today, and I earned my Ed.D in Leadership in October 2016.

Being able to reflect not only on one year but across a decade of goals is powerful – I see how dynamics of situations have changed and how there are bumps in the road that at the time seem earth-shattering, but in the grand scheme were simply little speed bumps that slowed me down.

My 2023 Reflection goals include end-of-month consideration and tracking of progress in writing and for the first time ever: sharing my goals and progress with readers on this blog, reflecting on memories, and writing family stories (and getting other family members to do the same so that our stories are preserved for future generations to enjoy). By the end of 2023, I hope to have at least 25 family stories shared on my blog.

Happy weekend! Spend some time reflecting today!

Reflecting on that time in the corn maze with Andrew when we had to use the map to try to get out…………