by jphilo | Feb 21, 2014 | Out and About
Last Sunday, I created a lesson for an evening activity for kids at our church. The task unleashed my latent school teacher. By the time the kids arrived, I was armed and dangerous. I had a plethora of Presidents’ Day trivia about Washington and Lincoln as well as coloring sheets, and word searches. Little did I know how much the children would add to that great body of knowledge.
The first group of kids were first through third graders who knew Monday was Presidents’ Day. They thought the holiday had something to do with birthdays, but needed some pretty broad hints before they landed on George and Abe.
“But they’re both dead,” one child announced. “When is our real president’s birthday?”
“Oh yeah,” a girl chimed in. “He has a funny name. It’s hard to remember.” The entire group agreed with her. They hemmed and hawed, trying to remember the real president’s name.
“His name reminds me of that one vegetable.” She thought for a moment, and her face lit up. “Broccoli!” she exclaimed. “His name sounds like broccoli.”
“Oh yeah!” everyone chorused. “Broccoli Obama!”
Giggle.
The next group of kids were four and five-year-olds. Amazingly, they named Broccoli Barack Obama without batting an eye.
When asked what the president does, one little boy answered confidently. “He rides around in a car and kills bad guys.”
“No,” another boy disagreed. “President Obama is a good leader.”
Unfortunately, good leadership didn’t have the same allure as a sound bite about riding around in a car killing bad guys. Most of the kids bought into the car theory and stuck with it, even while they colored pictures of Abe Lincoln’s log cabin and the young George Washington working as a surveyor.
“See this?” A sandy-haired boy pointed to some orange lines he’d drawn on the log cabin’s doorway. “That’s a booby trap so bad guys can’t get in.”
“See this?” A little blond guy pointed to George’s surveying equipment. “That bottom part turns into the gun for killing bad guys.”
Sigh.
The final group were fourth and fifth graders. They breezed through the President’s Day trivia, and were surprised to hear that George and Martha never lived there. They even knew the first White House burned down and had to be rebuilt.
“Yeah,” a serious boy said. “That kind of thing still happens. My mom told me that some tourists ran a train into the Octagon, too.”
I thought for a moment. “Do you mean Pentagon?”
“Yeah! That’s it. The Pentagon!”
The boy beside him added to the confusion. “And some other tourists ran a plane into a tall building in New York City.”
“The Twin Towers,” I explained. “They were terrorists, not tourists. That happened in 2001.”
“2001?” The Octagon tourist reporter did some figuring in his head. “That was two years before I was born.”
The boy beside him pointed at the coloring pictures. “Can we do those?” They colored industriously, sure as only children can be, that their parents and their country’s president, Broccoli Obama, will kill the bad guys and keep them safe from tourists attacking the Octagon.
Pray.
Photo Source: markuso at www.freedigitalphotos.net
by jphilo | Dec 9, 2013 | Out and About
Thanks to my trusty little Toyota Corolla,* I am writing this column from the comfort of my own home. If not for its good handling on slippery roads, I might be shivering in a ditch somewhere between home and frigid Lincoln, Nebraska.
Now don’t get me wrong.
As my friend and Ohio native Katie Wetherbee says about her first trip to Lincoln last weekend, “The weather is cold, but the people are warm and welcoming!” The people truly were warm and welcoming during our three days working with volunteers and ministry leaders at Lincoln’s First Free Church. Their passion for and commitment to developing a quality, inclusive special needs ministry program is phenomenal.
But the weather.
Now that’s a different story. Katie mentioned the cold, but it’s about the same cold in Iowa where I live. So that wasn’t the problem. The problem was the light snow that began falling in Lincoln after midnight Sunday and proceeded to move east along the route I took home. By the time I left Lincoln a little before noon on Sunday, the interstate was wet and messy, but not slippery. The first 70 miles of interstate in Iowa weren’t bad either.
But then.
The roads got a little slippery. And a little slipperier. A semi was in the ditch in the westbound lane. I slowed down. Then I noticed an armored car decorating another portion of the ditch. I went a little slower. And passed a couple pick up trucks in the median. So I went slower still, until the exit came into sight and the intrepid Toyota crawled along the exit ramp, tires firmly gripping the snowy surface until turning onto the two lane highway.
Which wasn’t slippery at all.
The rest of the trip was uneventful. And this morning, I’m very thankful to be home since more light snow fell through the night, and the road reports say it’s slick, slick, slick out there. Which is why the man of steel drove the Corolla to work. It’s better for winter driving than the big ol’ pick up truck.
Thank you, trusty little Toyota Corolla, for keeping us safe once again!
*In the interest of full disclosure, the photo above is not my car. It is the same year, make and color, though mine has a sun roof. And even though the dealer who sold me the car said white cars don’t show as much dirt as other colors (I’m not making this up. The dealer really said that, and in the process, created an instant, inside family joke), my car is much, much dirtier than the pictured vehicle.
Photo Source
by jphilo | Nov 28, 2013 | Out and About
by jphilo | Oct 21, 2013 | Out and About
What can happen in one short week?
- A country bumpkin can drive through Chicago both ways without mishap and with correct change for the toll booth.
- A bargain shopper can buy steal-of-a-deal new snow boots at an outlet store.
- Old friends can spend a day together and pick up the conversation right where it ended almost 30 years ago.
- Co-authors can hammer out the direction of a new book…and laugh a lot in the process.
- One writer can enjoy lunch several days running with publishing house personnel, an agent, and special needs ministry colleagues.
- An Iowan can navigate Grand Rapids, Michigan all week long and not get lost once.
- The same Iowan can flawlessly execute a Michigan left turn. (Cue applause)
- A writers’ conference can result in complete strangers becoming fast friends over coffee and hand outs.
- The trees along Lake Michigan’s eastern shore can be beautiful enough to bring a person to tears.
- Arriving home after a wonderful week reminds weary travelers of a truth that bears repeating, though clicking one’s heels is optional…
…There truly is no place like home!
by jphilo | Oct 14, 2013 | Out and About
Today, I can’t wait to spend the day with a high school bestie. How do I know she’s a bestie?
Because we, and two other girls, met on the first day of ninth grade.
When I looked like the girl in the picture above.
Even so, the four of us remained friends.
Not just that year, but throughout high school.
To this very day
I’m not someone who wishes to go back to high school and relive it because those were the best years of my life. Because, even though my high school years were very good, now is the best time of my life.
My husband and I are happy.
Our kids are raised.
Our grandson is perfect.
Camp Dorothy is a hoot.
I love my job.
But if I could have one thing back from high school, I would choose time with my besties. Because we went from ugly ducklings–besties, rest assured I would never post your 9th grade school pictures here–to swans together.
We studied together,
auditioned en masse for plays and speech,
joined the same clubs,
attended cast parties,
pined over the same boys,
hung out at one another’s houses,
threw pennies on the roof of Pizza Hut,
went to youth group,
and had more slumber parties than you can shake a stick at.
If I could choose one day to relive, it would be when we went all the way to Sioux City–just us 4 girls, no parents–to have our senior pictures (see below) taken and then out to a Chinese restaurant afterwards.
The memory of that day is precious.
The memory of this day will be precious, too.
One day with a high school bestie.
When we’re both old enough
to recognize the value of one day,
the value of health to enjoy it,
the value of friendships that span decades,
the value of what we had then,
the value of what we have now,
and the wisdom to be grateful.
by jphilo | Sep 27, 2013 | Out and About
I’ve been back from Harding County for almost a week. Just long enough for the dust to settle. Just long enough to look over the pictures taken during the trip. Just long enough to decide that the above picture is indeed worth a thousand words.
Why?
Because the 3 1/2-year-old little girl sitting on the great, big horse isn’t taking part in a horse show, demonstrating what she learned during horseback riding lessons. She’s heading out with her grandpa, her mom, and a neighbor to move a herd of cows from one place to another. Her grandpa was so proud of her, he thought I’d like to snap her picture.
He was right.
Come dinnertime, her grandma said the tyke stuck with the task for several hours. Once it was done, she laid down on the hired man’s four-wheeler and took a half-hour nap while the adults finished up. By the time I sat down to eat dinner, the pint-sized cowgirl was raring to go.
She’s spunky, just like her uncle.
He was in my classroom for first, second, and third grade way back when. He began each day of first grade by driving an old car down their long lane to the road to the school bus stop. The summer after his first grade year, he once drove a pick up with me, his teacher and passenger, up a hill to show off a windmill and stock tank he’d helped his dad install. On the way up the hill and on the way down, he asked me to climb out of the pick up, open the gates, wait for the truck to go through the gates, and then climb back in the truck. Which I did. Until he reached the last gate and drove off without me.
I am not making this up.
My former student died of viral encephalitis when he was 28. Family members left behind included his young wife, a 2-year-old son, a sister, and his parents. The loss left a gaping hole in their lives. One they, and all who loved this young man, feel to this day. And yet they, like so many in Harding County, encourage their children not to shrink from the dangers of this world, but to conquer them. Instead of saying, “You’re too little to get on a great, big horse,” they teach them how to ride. And when the kids are ready, they say,
“Ride ’em, Cowgirl!”
