Recently, I noticed a woman with a child coming slowly down the steps to the Post Office. She held the toddler's hand and patiently recited the number of each step as they descended.
The scene brought to mind a small book called "All Children Learn" which was written years ago for parents with children who were developmentally delayed. In it, the author with whom I worked, depicted ordinary activities that parents could use to help make children, all children aware of language and the world in which we live.
In today's high tech world sometimes we forget the value of communicating with children through adult attention and encouragement. Counting steps as we go up and down, calling out the name of each food as we unpack groceries, reciting the color of flowers during a walk with a child, activities when identified out loud will help encourage and answer a child's natural sense of inquisitiveness.
In the midst of a busy day, one woman coming down a set of steps, helped the child beside her learn about our world in a meaningful way.
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
JUDGE SONIA SOTOMAYOR
From time to time, I spot a peregrine falcon perched on the steeple of the Cathedral across from my apartment. Her unexpected presence always surprises and delights me. I watch as neither pigeon nor sparrow can detract her from her perch.
I noticed the falcon again today as I read about the life of Judge Sonia Sotomayer, President Obama's nominee for appointment to the Unites States Supreme Court. Like the falcon I observe, how inspirational that Judge Sotomayor's life and career could bring her to this country's highest perch of justice.
I noticed the falcon again today as I read about the life of Judge Sonia Sotomayer, President Obama's nominee for appointment to the Unites States Supreme Court. Like the falcon I observe, how inspirational that Judge Sotomayor's life and career could bring her to this country's highest perch of justice.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
KRUGMAN'S WAKE UP CALL!
Paul Krugman, economist and columnist, has been giving America and this administration one well reasoned wake up call after another. His recent New York Times Column "State of Paralysis" on May 25 was no exception. Except, this time it seems to me he was taking hold of our new administration's lapels and giving them and us a good shaking.
We are living and traveling through a time without benefit of a good road map. Krugman is asking us to understand that we may need to take risks to avoid tearing the very fabric of who we are as a nation.
Whether one agrees with Krugman or not, when a man of his stature speaks of being "rattled" by "the California precedent" comparing it to the
"national level," it is way past time for this administration to hear
Krugman's wake up call!
We are living and traveling through a time without benefit of a good road map. Krugman is asking us to understand that we may need to take risks to avoid tearing the very fabric of who we are as a nation.
Whether one agrees with Krugman or not, when a man of his stature speaks of being "rattled" by "the California precedent" comparing it to the
"national level," it is way past time for this administration to hear
Krugman's wake up call!
Saturday, May 23, 2009
MEMORIAL DAY 2009
Missouri celebrates Memorial Day the same as other states across the land. Cities, towns and neighborhood communities stage parades, festivals, fundraising events, and all kinds of races.
Something called the Gypsy Caravan, billed as the largest antique and flea market in the Midwest is staged by the St. Louis Symphony Volunteer Association annually on Memorial Day. The Western Military Academy in Alton, MO, claims its parade dates back to 1868. In St. Louis'Forest and Tower Grove Parks, public and private family-style picnics are held. In the midst of all the hoopla, sober speeches are made remembering the brave men and women who gave their lives in war reminding all of us why we celebrate the day.
I enjoy this day, the parades, the color, the events, noisy and quiet. Even so, as we honor the memory of so many who gave their lives in battle, I wonder will nations ever stop making war with each other?
Something called the Gypsy Caravan, billed as the largest antique and flea market in the Midwest is staged by the St. Louis Symphony Volunteer Association annually on Memorial Day. The Western Military Academy in Alton, MO, claims its parade dates back to 1868. In St. Louis'Forest and Tower Grove Parks, public and private family-style picnics are held. In the midst of all the hoopla, sober speeches are made remembering the brave men and women who gave their lives in war reminding all of us why we celebrate the day.
I enjoy this day, the parades, the color, the events, noisy and quiet. Even so, as we honor the memory of so many who gave their lives in battle, I wonder will nations ever stop making war with each other?
Sunday, May 17, 2009
JURY DUTY
I had lived in St. Louis a little over a year when I received a notice to serve on a Petite Jury in the Twenty-Second Judicial Circuit Court of Missouri.
After preliminary questions from the attorneys and instructions from the Judge 12 of us were selected to serve as jurors. The State was charging the defendant before us with 12 First Degree assault and criminal actions and murder.
The people who made up the Jury were a cross section of citizens. One woman was a security guard for a Casino. She wore her gun belt, without gun or ammunition, and trooper boots. Two social workers, a teacher, a retired bank custodian, a no-nonsense, nursing home administrator, a young woman working for a medical office, a man involved in research, two elderly women, a man who was a producer at a local television station who wondered why he had been chosen when usually he is dismissed, a hip cosmetic sales woman who as the door was closed behind us commented, "let's get this over today," and me.
A full box of the defendant's family, friends and steady court observers were there through out the testimony. We heard from one state's witness and others who were familiar with the neighborhood where the crimes took place and described the lack of neighbors to get involved or call the police when crimes were committed. Our deliberations were serious and went four days. We found the defendant guilty on all counts except murder. That charge is still pending and the defendant is in jail.
Jury Trials are sobering. They bring into light not only the charges against a defendant, but how effective we are or are not as a community in ensuring that justice is meted out even in those neighborhoods where the scars of injustice still remain raw.
After preliminary questions from the attorneys and instructions from the Judge 12 of us were selected to serve as jurors. The State was charging the defendant before us with 12 First Degree assault and criminal actions and murder.
The people who made up the Jury were a cross section of citizens. One woman was a security guard for a Casino. She wore her gun belt, without gun or ammunition, and trooper boots. Two social workers, a teacher, a retired bank custodian, a no-nonsense, nursing home administrator, a young woman working for a medical office, a man involved in research, two elderly women, a man who was a producer at a local television station who wondered why he had been chosen when usually he is dismissed, a hip cosmetic sales woman who as the door was closed behind us commented, "let's get this over today," and me.
A full box of the defendant's family, friends and steady court observers were there through out the testimony. We heard from one state's witness and others who were familiar with the neighborhood where the crimes took place and described the lack of neighbors to get involved or call the police when crimes were committed. Our deliberations were serious and went four days. We found the defendant guilty on all counts except murder. That charge is still pending and the defendant is in jail.
Jury Trials are sobering. They bring into light not only the charges against a defendant, but how effective we are or are not as a community in ensuring that justice is meted out even in those neighborhoods where the scars of injustice still remain raw.
Saturday, May 16, 2009
GRADUATION TIME!
St. Louis serves as a mecca for universities, colleges and technical schools. In addition to campus dorms, students live all around us and their excitement about graduation is felt by the whole city.
The streets overflow with traffic bringing families from out of town to mark each student's accomplishment after long years of study. Sometimes the Cathedral opposite me is used for a school's graduation services.
No matter the inclement weather, young women with flimsy, billowing dresses join young men, jacket less, trying desperately to keep ties from flapping in the wind on the Church's plaza. Afterward, with gowns flapping and mortarboards held tight, graduates seek out families and fiends as flash bulbs pop.
Today on my morning walk I met a woman carrying a gown who is a faculty member for one of these institutions. Asked how the semester was she said it had its ups and downs but we got through it. As I pass cars being loaded with boxes for the trip home, I have a sense of renewed hope for this country's future.
Then I pull out the newspaper and read that the U.S. Senate has passed a Bill that will allow concealed weapons to be brought into public places. Because of the season, and the young graduates all about me, my hope is still strong.
Maybe, just maybe, from all those in the Class of '09 will come a greater understanding of why this ill conceived law should be turned back.
The streets overflow with traffic bringing families from out of town to mark each student's accomplishment after long years of study. Sometimes the Cathedral opposite me is used for a school's graduation services.
No matter the inclement weather, young women with flimsy, billowing dresses join young men, jacket less, trying desperately to keep ties from flapping in the wind on the Church's plaza. Afterward, with gowns flapping and mortarboards held tight, graduates seek out families and fiends as flash bulbs pop.
Today on my morning walk I met a woman carrying a gown who is a faculty member for one of these institutions. Asked how the semester was she said it had its ups and downs but we got through it. As I pass cars being loaded with boxes for the trip home, I have a sense of renewed hope for this country's future.
Then I pull out the newspaper and read that the U.S. Senate has passed a Bill that will allow concealed weapons to be brought into public places. Because of the season, and the young graduates all about me, my hope is still strong.
Maybe, just maybe, from all those in the Class of '09 will come a greater understanding of why this ill conceived law should be turned back.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
FORGET FISHING! MISSOURI NOODLES!
Sometime ago, the St. Louis Post-Dispatch ran an article on noodling,
a form of hand fishing here in Missouri. What caught my attention was
not only the name of the sport, but that it had become a question of
"rights" between noodlers, the State's Department of Conservation and
non noodling voters.
Noodling is used to catch cat fish. It requires no hook, bait or fishing line, only fingers. The hand is placed in water, fingers wiggle and voila, the fish is attracted and caught. According to the state's department of conservation, the practice was depleting catfish. To get the bloggers under control, and hoping to restock cat fish, the state tried issuing licenses for noodling in 2005.
Noodlers claimed the licensing procedures were not about concern for the fish but because of economic pressure from conventional cat fishing interest. And besides this was depriving noodlers of their constitutional right.
As a result, in March, the Missouri House Agribusiness Committee approved House Joint Resolution 20, to allow voters to amend this State's Constitution to provide a two month season for "hand fishing," noodling or whatever name it is called, there are about a dozen different names depending on the area where it is practiced.
The article I read did not explain how all this came about. I bet it took a grass roots lobbying effort by noodlers to have HJR20 passed. Now we will all be able to vote to have an Amendment to the State Constitution that would include provisions for Noodling. Would that efforts for education or health care would be as effective.
a form of hand fishing here in Missouri. What caught my attention was
not only the name of the sport, but that it had become a question of
"rights" between noodlers, the State's Department of Conservation and
non noodling voters.
Noodling is used to catch cat fish. It requires no hook, bait or fishing line, only fingers. The hand is placed in water, fingers wiggle and voila, the fish is attracted and caught. According to the state's department of conservation, the practice was depleting catfish. To get the bloggers under control, and hoping to restock cat fish, the state tried issuing licenses for noodling in 2005.
Noodlers claimed the licensing procedures were not about concern for the fish but because of economic pressure from conventional cat fishing interest. And besides this was depriving noodlers of their constitutional right.
As a result, in March, the Missouri House Agribusiness Committee approved House Joint Resolution 20, to allow voters to amend this State's Constitution to provide a two month season for "hand fishing," noodling or whatever name it is called, there are about a dozen different names depending on the area where it is practiced.
The article I read did not explain how all this came about. I bet it took a grass roots lobbying effort by noodlers to have HJR20 passed. Now we will all be able to vote to have an Amendment to the State Constitution that would include provisions for Noodling. Would that efforts for education or health care would be as effective.
Thursday, May 7, 2009
OH YE, OF LITTLE FAITH!
I don't enjoy gambling, but I do enjoy horse racing. Even without a bet, I love the beauty, anticipation and excitement of the race, the horses and the crowds. I tend to be interested in long shots and have faith one will finally come in.
Even with no money on "Mine That Bird," knowing nothing about the jockey or trainer, I picked number 8 to win. He was the long shot and he carried my magic number. When he did win, I was as exited as if I had put money on him.
True, when I saw him come out of the gate, not the handsomest of steeds, I lost a little confidence in my magic number 8, a number so designated because it appears throughout the statistics of the day of my birth.
When the race was over and the stunned crowd began to leave, I wondered about the people who actually put money on this long shot. Was it because of superstition, intuition, a hunch, or like me, because of a name or number that held some significance?
I also wondered about all the others who bet on the "sure thing" and now regretted that they did not have enough "faith" to go with a long shot. Especially one with the magic number 8.
Even with no money on "Mine That Bird," knowing nothing about the jockey or trainer, I picked number 8 to win. He was the long shot and he carried my magic number. When he did win, I was as exited as if I had put money on him.
True, when I saw him come out of the gate, not the handsomest of steeds, I lost a little confidence in my magic number 8, a number so designated because it appears throughout the statistics of the day of my birth.
When the race was over and the stunned crowd began to leave, I wondered about the people who actually put money on this long shot. Was it because of superstition, intuition, a hunch, or like me, because of a name or number that held some significance?
I also wondered about all the others who bet on the "sure thing" and now regretted that they did not have enough "faith" to go with a long shot. Especially one with the magic number 8.
Subscribe to:
Posts
(
Atom
)
