V-A-C-A-T-I-O-N!

It's my new favorite thing in the whole world. I never thought it would come. And now it's here and it's just as sweet as I could have ever imagined it.  I had several choice comments and "f you's" during finals week when I made some students retake their test for having all 50 identical correct and incorrect answers. "You're making me retake the test cuz I'm black! You're a racist." I didn't make all 25 students retake the test, so obviously the student failed to see that I was just racist towards cheaters.

On a positive note, I had 2 Christmas cards from students and they made my day. I also wrote a little something, an end-of-year send off:

“I was here to teach you Geometry.

Not to entertain, not to listen to you complain.
All I set out to do was teach you Geometry.
Let me explain, some of you drove me insane, and made me question the capacity of your brain. But it’s not about volume or quantity, it’s about quality. It’s not about the destination. It’s about the journey and the conversation. It’s not about the grade, it’s about the learning. And did you?
Did you do any learning?
That was my one and only yearning, But I have to be discerning; just as the cream separates and rises to the top, so will those of you who dared to be challenged and apply yourselves in my class. And without being a royal pain in the…
...Ask not what your teacher can do for you. Ask what you can do for yourself, if you only tried. Geometry is the measure of the earth. All you problem solvers who get it, now that you know how to measure your world, you can start to shape it. It’s been a pleasure working with all of you. Enjoy your time off this holiday. Take time to be good to your friends and family. Take time to reflect and relax. Don’t be a stranger. And don’t have unprotected sex.”

We'll just leave it at that.

Countdown to Gravy

It's the first time since I started teaching in January that I was home before 5 p.m. The day ends at 3:30 p.m., but I'm there til 5 p.m. on good days... 7 p.m. on not-so-good days when I delude myself into thinking a better lesson plan will lead to better behavior.

The semester is three-fourths over. The students take state tests when we return from Thanksgiving, so in addition to missing a third of my students every day, they use the hall my classroom is in for testing and all the teachers are displaced. I'm relocated to either the gym or the cafeteria, or if I'm lucky, someone else's room. I'll be in there the following week while they use our classrooms for senior project presentations. We get our rooms back just in time for final exams. In other words, I have one more week to "teach" in my classroom, because after that, as the kids like to say, "Mrs. B's! Why you still teaching? It's ovah!" This Friday, our football team has its first playoff game. School is letting out two hours early to accommodate encourage everyone to make the drive up to Wayne County. So... we better win, since that's wherein lives our educational priorities. And I've got some nerve using "wherein" and football in the same context.  

For those last two weeks, I've got some ideas but I'M ALL EARS for more suggestions. So far, we're making snowflakes to talk about reflections and rotations (maybe, but my colleague said it sounds complicated, so maybe we'll just make snowflakes). I'm having them bring in musical instruments to share their favorite holiday song (since "mathematics is the gateway drug between music and astronomy), and maybe we'll make paper origami ornaments one day. Then, the rest of the time, I want to make a GBread village (purely graham crackers, Watson) and have them measure the surface area and volume. Gotta think that one through with the how and where to keep stuff. Teaching three 90 minute blocks is so very very different than a Saturday workshop with 14 high school girls. Just another delicious serving of humble pie up the ass.

Weather here is gorgeous. Sky could not be "blue-er." Every day is like a perfect day for football, gardening, and bonfires... warm during the day, chilly at night. Sunsets are gradient perfection. And the stars are incredible. This is why people live here. And for the football.

Closing Time

Close to 950 miles. 16-hour days. And more eye make-up remover than I’ve used in the last 2 years.


That’s what I’ve logged over the last 2 weeks, and tonight was Closing Night of “Dividing the Estate.” We all came back to the dressing room after our last curtain call as a cast, and I said in typical Hawk/White Sox Announcer fashion, “…This show is OVAHHHH!”

My NU Wildcats have their best season record in school history. The Bears were undefeated until tonight. The weather has dropped below 80’F at night, and it feels like heaven. The stars and the sunset have no rivals in the beauty pagent of nature. Dragon flies and butterflies are all aflutter. Moss Point High School has been in session officially nine weeks, and this week is Homecoming Week. Tomorrow, the students get to wear college gear. I hope that includes the teachers because I’ll be showing up in serious purple pride. Nine weeks’ exams start Tuesday. Our football record is 3-3, after losing to an undefeated Vancleave High School. For the record, Vancleave is the town the rest of the MS Gulf Coast teases for being redneck. It's sorta cute, like when there's a kid at school that even the SpEd kids make fun of... But my boys lost to Vancleave, just like every other school they've played. If we can’t beat the redneck schools, we’re really going to have to start bringing those test scores up.

My classroom still smells like urine warmed over, but not breathing in mold the last two days really puts me in a good mood.

Autumn is Here!

 The official start of the Autumn season is upon us. Temperatures are finally dropping below 90'. The air feels cooler at night. School is almost a quarter over. Football season is in full swing.

Our Moss Point Tigers are 3-2 as of last Friday, and it is a rabid crowd indeed! I went to the first three games. The first game, it was so hot, and the air was so humid. The combined smell of B.O. and nachos was enough to send my allergies into a tail spin, but that game, we won. We've got football. So, if the school with the higher state test scores beats us... we "ain't got nothing."

My classes are good. I have some really great above average kids, some punks, some footballers, some diva dancers, and some white kids. My classroom smells like Fabreeze, cinnamon apple, and urine. I can't get rid of the latter smell, and everyone in my room for more than an hour (myself included) complains of headaches. The maintenance guys came in to check for mold, and they said all they smelled was air freshener. I was hoping they would have a more systematic method for detecting mold in the walls or A.C. unit besides sniffing around.

I saw Smokey Robinson live last weekend... amazing... purple suit for the first act... red leather pants for the second act... oooooooEeeOOOOOHHHH... Baaaby...Babyeeeeeee.....

This past weekend was opening night of a show I'm in, written by Horton Foote, called "Dividing the Estate." The show takes place in Texas and is at the Center Stage Theatre, which is the "biggest pond" on the Gulf Coast. It's directed by the only paid director on the MS Coast (which is really sad, since the director is your classic prototype of the starving actor). Even though my part is smaller than minor, I'm enjoying working with a great cast of local "celebrities" and just having adult conversations that aren't about the dismal state of education... it's all very refreshing.

The moon has been full. The sunsets have been gorgeous. Talk of oil spill seems to be but an echo, even though the economic and environmental effects still linger, just not on the front page of the paper. Sometimes, driving home, it all makes perfect sense to me. There's no sense of urgency here. There's not much determined enterprise. If you can't make it better, make art. What else is there to do, but sing the blues, hip-hug dance, make babies, sweat, rinse, and repeat.

Meanwhile, Rachel is loving college as a biology major. She started at Mississippi State University on August 11, and since then has been living large and loving life. I took the day off to help her move in, and it was every minute worth it. She was the first of the Bergeron daughters to spread her wings. Mom was a wreck when we left. I drove with Rachel and Brian followed, so that Rachel could keep her car on campus. We talked about life, school, friends, and music. The next day, we helped Rachel get set up with her room, her printer, and her books for class, with a little time on the side for lunch with her and her roommate, Evelyn, and Evelyn's folks. We took a trip to the grocery store together to make sure the fridge was fully stocked (their room has a full size fridge and microwave! I know!!). I remember all too well moving in to college, and heping Rachel set up was one of the most fulfilling experiences I've had as a step-parent. It's ok to be excited and sad at the same time. But let your kids be the ones to push away first. Brian sends postcards and carepackages on a weekly basis. Why not let your sons and daughters know how much you love them!? I've sent a few trinkets and cookies.

MSU recently defeated the GA Bull Dogs (who hasn't at this point), and Rachel has found herself to be a bigger than expected football fan. The MSU mascot happens to also be the bull dog. She has discovered her school's theatre scene. I'm looking forward to hearing back on upcoming productions. And more football. We'll catch the MSU game against KY at the end of the month.

I have 5 more performances of "Dividing the Estate." My lesson plans on Area and Polygons are done for the week. Students will share their paper quilt blocks at the end of the week. I don't feel like I'm preparing any of them for real college work, but if they're learning while in my class, that's all that matters.

School Daze

Squadrons of dragon flies have been swarming the skies while the sun beats down 100'F of feels-like-115'F" heat. Hazmat workers are being reduced to skeleton crews.

School officials have elected August 5 as the first day of school for students. We the teachers report for duty Monday. It's the hottest it's been all summer. I just don't get it, but at this point I may as well whine about the shrimp in my shrimp po'boy being fried, because that's jes' the way i's gonna'be. Shark Week, the zenith of summer programming, hasn't even started, and I'm getting ready for school. Brian is headed back to AK this Tuesday for a week for 75% work, 25% play. He's going to mail me a postcard.

I actually went in yesterday at the administration's request to straighten up the rooms in "B-Hall" for a parent's night. I moved to B-Hall at the end of last year which is where the rest of the math teachers are located. The teacher whose room I inherited had left the school and left the room a disaster, but my Moss Point High School math teacher friend and I gutted, cleaned, and stored all my stuff in so it would be ready for 2010-2011. Well, I discovered I was assigned to a different room and thus, inherited another mess left by a retired teacher comprised of economics and government textbooks and a year's worth of tests, study guides, and kid crud piled high in the closet, filing cabinet, and book case. They must know I'm part Polish and just love cleaning. What was I going to do? Argue with the secretary who gave me the key and has nothing to do with the room assignment? We have a new principal. I'm excited about the new year. But as Rosa Parks as my witness, I shall not be moved again.

I didn't meet any parents because I was so filthy and exhausted by the time I left. Thankfully, my good teacher friend from Ocean Springs High School came with me to help me hang stuff and check the school out. We didn't get to decorating because of the four hours it took moving and scrubbing stuff.

I have to keep a journal for my last series of Master's classes, so this is where it's going to be. It's an adventure of sorts. From this point on, consider this blog the...

MISEDUMACATION OF MRS. B.

My name is "Mrs. Bergeron." I teach math at Moss Point High School where the students call me "Mrs. B" which just sounds like "Muz B." I started this past January, and this will be my second semester teaching Geometry in the newly appointed room B-48. There's a lot I've observed that doesn't make a whole lot of sense, so rather than bitch to Brian about it, I'm just going to blog. Enjoy!

Logic Free Situation #1: Why are we starting school so *&&^*&^%$$#$#@! early.

Logic Free Situation #2: Hosting a parent night before all the teachers have set up their rooms, before the bathrooms have been cleaned, and on a Friday night. When most of the parents are in their mid- to late-20s, who's going to spend Friday night at their kids' high school. But hey, at least there's soap in the bathroom... for now.

Geometry Al Fresco with last year's class in March. Where's the rest of the class you ask? I often asked myself the same question.

Waning Days of July

My grandma used to say, "After the Fourth of July, summer just flies by."

!Es mui verdad!

Late Friday night, Brian and I returned from what would be my last trip of the summer. Brian and I drove 1850 miles round-trip up to Chicago where Brian and I split. Brian met up with friends and drove north to Canadian Boundary Waters for ultimate, only-people-there, boys only fishing trip and I drove up with my family to Aunt and Uncle Connolly's place in Door County, Wisconsin. I hardly spent any time in Illinois that wasn't already pre-programmed with a family BBQ or get-togethers or Grandpa at the Devonshire Assisted Living Facility visit or Auntie at the Hospital visit. It was a lovely time, but not nearly enough time to see everyone.

This quote aptly greeted me on my page-a-day calendar when we returned back home: "...In times of great stress, such as a four-day vacation, the thin veneer of family wears off almost at once, and we are revealed in our true personalities." -Shirley Jackson

Teachers report back to public school a week from today. Talk about a bowl of hot sweaty suck-ass. Since it's still 105'F, it makes perfect sense NOT to go back to school a month before the rest of the nation. I forgot how fun heat stroke at football practice can be--- even members of the marching band are at risk.

Rachel leaves for Mississippi State College two weeks from Wednesday. Very exciting stuff! She's coming into her own snarkiness just in time.

Dog Days of Summer

Written 7/14/10: Long days. Pretty sunsets. Red skies at night. These are/were the Dog Days of Summer. Yes, I just spent the last 15 minutes reviewing why it's called "the dog days," but the bright star, Sirius, of Canis Major is no longer in the same spot when the Romans first gave this period of hot, sweaty days its moniker. You can see what the night sky looks like today and waste all sorts of time at http://www.sky-map.org/.


This is my favorite time of year, when the right brain is gently lulled into a lyrical, lazy reflection on a slow rocker with a glass of lemonade, just before it wipes the sweat off its refreshed brow and says with a sigh, “ Ok… back to work.”

Dog days, literally. Grethen and I unintentionally rallied a couple neighborhood dawgs on our Sunday morning walk this past week. I was out at 530 am, earlier than usual, but I woke up without an alarm, turned to Gretchen and said “it’s not getting any coolor. Lets go.” I’ll be damned, the flea-bag un-neutured troops were already out, sniffing butts, marking mailboxes and potted plants. The little terrier and black lab, both collarless, didn’t harass us too much. They ran towards us, exchanged butt sniffs and trotted next to us for an eighth mile stretch. Then galloped off, sensing bigger turds to roll in up ahead.

Summer hasn’t been all that lazy:

I took two two eight-week twice-a-week classes for my Masters (only two more terms to go!).
Good friends, Nick and Karen, arrived for their new two-year tour of duty after driving and ferrying from Eagle River, Alaska.

Girls went to Peurto Rico with their mom.
Took a day trip to Bay Saint Louis for their Crab Festival 2010 (no shortage of shellfish here, oil spill be damned! Mmm-mmm, Old Bay's and BP sweet crude seasonings... still tastes like chicken.)

Has it already been 20 minutes? Time for another break.

Haz(ardous) Mat(erials) workers hard at work too.

I don't know this family on the left in the crab hats, but they sure seem fun! I think they brought their hats from home because I didn't find them for sale. I looked.

An Orb of Good Luck?

This morning on my walk with Gretchen, we were greeted by wispy bands of clouds and in the East, a sun circumscribed by a rainbow. No kidding, it was a halo of Roy G. Biv and you could practically see the full circle even though the sun had risen only a half hour prior to our walk. In most cultures, the rainbow is good luck. But when I got home, and found that my leaving the garage door open served as an open invitation to the mangy snickerdoodle labrapoodles from across the street who helped themselves to breakfast from the Recycle Bin: newspapers, mayo jars, and peanut butter jar remnants. A sampler platter! They even brought it all to the front yard and had themselves a picnic. I spent the next 20 minutes shooing away muddy dogs and picking up trash. On my way back inside, I let a tiny crab in the house. They're sweet, but not in my house. Keep in mind, I've been in business attire and nice sandals for my morning class. I was going to be early. After catching Mr. Crab with a lint brush, dropping him in a tupperware, and releasing him outside, I was just barely going to be on time. I didn't want to kill him, but I might have accidentally set him up to be someone else's crustacean breakfast as he was walking kinda slow and in a circle.

So that's two things. Being that things happen in threes, I thought the third was when a poor butterfly flew in front of my windshield while I was on the highway (Sorry, Lil Butterfly). It was actually huge and yellow and black. I just couldn't avoid it. But that was before I talked to my mom on the phone and heard Auntie (of 90 years) wasn't doing well. She's been the epitome of independence for the last 89 years and for the first time, has been showing her age in the form of two consecutive strokes. She's in the hospital now. She's the Auntie who made all the Barbie outfits featured in my Bayou Barbie portfolio. She would take us to movies when we were little and Christmas shopping to see the decorated windows. I had my first Big Mac with Auntie. I must have been seven. She would yell at us for touching our hair at the table or for slouching. She took care of her mom, my Grandma Lena, who lived to be 102. She yelled at her too. "Like this, Ma! Oh, lemmee do it." Oh, Godd-deh. God had two syllables when spoken by my Grandma Lena. Grandma Lena would roll her eyes up and then look at us as if to say, "See what I have to put up with" and we'd do our best not to laugh. It was lyrical comedy at its finest, if lyrical comedy was a genre. A stylish Bachelorette, Auntie traveled everywhere. She took my mom and my aunt on individual trips to Europe when they were teenagers. She plays cards with The Girls on Fridays. She takes trips with the bowling team and meets up with the Railroad Ladies for annual conferences. Last month, she was with them in Roanoke, VA or was it Charlotte, NC? She's been such a jet setter, it's hard to keep track! She used to work for the railroad company. I got some scholarship money from them. Auntie was the treasurer, but I never put those two things together until now. I don't think they happened at the same time, but now, I'm not so sure.

Ey, fuhgettabout it.

Auntie didn't make it to our wedding, but Brian and I drove afterwards to see her. C'mon, I had to show her my dress.

Hold on, Auntie.

On second thought, she's worked her whole life and has been independent her whole life. Auntie, you do whatever the hell you want. No sense changing your style now.

In other news, more oil.

I heard on the radio that many of the fishermen did business on mostly a cash basis. So they reported no income, and so they have no income statements and no tax returns to prove their salary to file any claims with BP. That sucks. Moral of the story, always pay your taxes. It always catches up to you, one way or another. Having been audited for not filing some of my freelance income from a $2000 1099, I know firsthand. They find you. It might take a while, but they find you. I went to one of the closed boat launches near our house tonight on my way home from class to see what it was looking like now that Hurricane Alex is raising the tides. I honestly didn't see anything outside the normal sludge. Saw some beer cans and some bottle rocket refuse. Which reminds me, I actually measured the mileage, just out of curiosity, between me and the trifecta of firework vendors: 3 miles away. That's how far I have to go to get some crazy ass fireworks that compete with Navy Pier's bi-weekly show. One of them is across from the middle school. Love it. That's why, as I've come to realize, there's three seasons here: Hot; Fireworks; and Christmas. They sell fireworks then, too, for New Year's so I guess it's just Hot and Fireworks. 

That's all I got. Take care y'all.

Coming soon... my compilation of stories from the teaching trenches... aka "The Edumacation of Mrs. B."

Part III Supreme Summer Closes the Books on June

Did I mention Brian bought a boat last year? Not just the canoe, but a real, Key West, 23 ft. T-top walk-around outboard engine BIG boat with a little sleeping chamber and a “head” which hasn’t quite been figured out yet. Yeah, eat your heart out, Skipper!

We took it out once, then became super busy, then I had to ruin everything by getting a full-time job. And now this oily mess. But we took a chance, and last Saturday, June 26, Brian and I rode out to Ship Island, one of the islands that makes up the Gulf Islands National Seashore. The reason the Mississippi Sound is so calm and so good for shrimping is because these islands intercept the surf 12 miles from the shoreline.

Click here to view these pictures larger

Ship Island is also home to Fort Massachusetts, a fort that was built from 1859 to 1866 to protect the deep water harbor and major shipping route into Port New Orleans. Confederate secessionists seized the fort in 1861 and forced workers off. Union soldiers aboard the USS Massachusetts came within range of Ship Island, and an exchange of cannon shots endured until the steamship reached safer waters. Though tagged by the confederates as a victory, they left Ship Island the following Fall. When the Union won, construction resumed with many of the materials coming from New England. Confederate POWs and Union convicts were kept there. Now, only 4-5 people actually live on Ship Island, and they are with the park services.

Boats pull up on the North side of the island, dock, and then beach combers have their fun in the surf and sun on the South side of the island. It justified the existence of a Surf City on Hwy 90, something that had befuddled me for months. We spotted a dolphin on our way to the island, and on our way back, clusters of resting pelicans perched like sentinels on every other channel marker. I love pelicans.

It was a gorgeous day. I didn’t realize how WARM the water was. The girls and I had gone swimming once before, but we only went knee-deep. Brian and I had to swim from the boat to the Ship Island and the temperature was that of a lukewarm bath! Correction: Brian waded back because he could touch the sandy bottom. I swam. We talked to the park rangers about any oil washing ashore. Clusters of tar balls here and there, they said, and a clean-up crew had been there in the morning.

The next day, oil clumps were lapping at island shores and along the Biloxi and Ocean Springs beaches. General help for clean up is discouraged without proper HAZMAT training and gear. Sort of the same message from the Audubon with whom I volunteered making calls to Florida volunteer prospects last Thursday. At that point, oil was not yet depositing on MS shoreline. It was the most rewarding cold calling experience I’ve ever had. We’re just recruiting help to stand by for specific projects: either roping off bird nests or posting signs or being a trained steward to patrol nesting sites, identify birds, and educate beach goers aka keep them away from nests. I spoke with several people who “weren’t from here” or who just moved to the area. The general attitude is that doing something gets you out of the house and away from the depressing news. The funniest response was when a lady thought I was calling about a race in Germany. No, M’am, no connection to the Autobahn. We do birds, not Benz’s.

I’ve also learned that hair donations from animals are not acceptable because “it’s not clean.” It has to be clean to soak up oil? Sorry Gretchen, we tried. Our Governor has been down playing the spill since May, and now, although it’s in the “sweet crude state,” he’s stating that we are underprepared and ill-equipped. Do you think so? How’d that happen? Granted oil was never pouring over the beaches, but it’s been hitting LA and AL and FL for the past month. Don’t want to lose those tourism dollars, but let’s get real. Whoever thought it was going to miss MS completely may as well have been whistling Dixie. Ha ha. I made a funny. Not funny. Sad. Let's not talk about it anymore.

What else is new in our Hood: we hosted Brian’s residents’ graduation bbq party this Sunday. All very nice people, got to meet the next class of endo residents as well. Had the girls spend the past week with us while their mom was in Boston. That was fun! Watched a lot of movies, made a lot of pink elephants (sprite and raspberry sherbet), and had a day of paper mache and painting projects, like personalizing Rachel’s MSU wooden letters for her dorm room. Danielle made a monkey. I never had so much fun blowing off homework, not since Seattle anyway. I’m so glad to have such a nice relationship with them. They’ve both promised to give a full report on tonight’s midnight viewing of the Twilight Saga’s “Eclipse.”

A Supreme Start to Summer Part II

June 9 through the 14, Brian and I spent a glorious time in Seattle. Another round of perfect weather accompanied us to a normally rainy place. Brian had CE and I played stowaway, just like the old days when I used to be a stay at home mom with no kids. While Brian was in class, I pounded the concrete to Pike’s Market, the Experience the Music Museum, the Olympia Sculpture Garden, the Seattle Aquarium, and some shops. We celebrated the Blackhawks’ Stanley Cup victory with our newly adopted family of Hawk fans, and it was probably the most like-minded fans I was going to find outside of Chicago: three times as many fans as in Anchorage and six times as many as Ocean Springs (counting me as the fan base; Brian came along as cheer support and protection… from myself).
More pix: http://mmwbpicturepostcards.shutterfly.com/247

I ate some tasty doughnuts per Theresa’s suggestion at Top Pot. Sat behind a guy having a doughnut and a beer (sold by Top Pot). That's what I call, "having it your way." We had an AMAZING dinner per Jack Miniotis’ suggestion at Serafina. Now, I can finally join my sister in saying things like “This Barbera would be really good with rabbit and pork sausage atop risotto with fresh arugula and figs.” And smile, like I know what I’m talking about. My eyes turn in to the back of my head just thinking about that meal. But some of our best meals were the cheapest and impromptu al fresco. Our last night, Brian and I shared a pizza and a mini box of wine near Bell Pier after going up on the Space Needle to enjoy the pristine and cloudless view. After dinner, we went back to the Needle for the nighttime view. Yeah, I bought the two-fer. It was only a few dollars more. The daytime was my favorite because you could see the mountains including Mt. Rainier and Mt. St. Helens. At night, it looked like a big city at night, but instead of being surrounded by suburbs, it was surrounded by darkness.

Another good meal was at the Ipanema Brazilian Steak-house, kiddy corner from the SAM (Seattle Art Museum). When Brian got out of class, we cleaned up and checked out the SAM, taking advantage of the extended Thursday hours and the free military museum admission special this summer. Then, we discussed all the pieces that Brian said he could do just as well if not better over a bountiful salad bar and skewered meat, the pace of dinner dictated by the flipping of the classic coin: red on one side, green on the other. If only more activities were governed by such a coin. Yes, I’m in the mood to chit-chat. No, please go away.

One of my favorite Seattle moments was touring the Experience the Music and their latest exhibit, the Supreme’s gown collection provided by Mary Wilson. Wouldn’t you know it, while I was there the next day getting last minute souvenirs, an announcement was made that Mary Wilson would be giving an oral history starting at 2 p.m. Of course, I didn't have my camera, and my cell phone memory was full. I was in running clothes, and back in college, going to events in my work-out clothes and rollerblades, because I was a spaz. And how could I NOT go see Drew Barrymore speak. Well, I wasn’t about to miss Mary Wilson, only original Supreme member from the group’s beginning to end. She was so cute and classy, in her 60s and looking great. For two hours and in the format of an interview in front of a very intimate audience, she told stories about the group, sang a few ballads to show how her range has increased since The Supremes, and guided us through a few slides of the gowns and when they were worn. She clarified for us, “We didn’t get the sequins until we made some money.”

She told us how Mo’Town Records had its own finishing school led by Miss Powell, so they could be taught how to behave properly like ladies, such as how to get in and out of a limo. She commented how some young singers and actresses today might benefit from a little lesson from Miss Powell on how to get in and out of a limo. For the three young women from Detroit, though, their first thought was, “What’s a limo?” Mary Wilson along with Diane Ross (she later changed her name to Diana) and Florence Ballard first won attention and wooed hearts as the Primettes (all female bands had to end with a feminine –ettes or -ells) and it wasn’t until they signed with Mo’Town that they became The Supremes. She talked about Flo and how they both got the short end of the recording stick when the song writers had them only singing back-up on all their biggest hits, but there was never any animosity between the girls. The girls first all met at their school's talent show. Mary was singing a song by Frankie and the Teenagers. Flo belted Ave Maria. They knew Diane from their neighborhood and knew she could sing. "We were from the same project. We grew up together. We loved each other!" She shared her thoughts on the other girls "... We all knew Diane would go on and be successful... What happened to Flo was just tragic. Flo was abused when she was 13. She was always very strong, but she never trusted people. She couldn't deal with success and couldn't fight the pain so she drank it away and had to be put out of the group." I learned that during one of their tours in the South, shots were fired at their bus. During that tour, the Whites would be on one side and the Blacks would all have to stay on the other side. But once the music started, people started dancing, and moving around, and it didn't matter who you were or where you were standing. Everyone was just enjoying the music.

I learned that the girls made their own dresses in the beginning. They all bought their own pearls for $5 at Woolworth's and the little gloves, because they were always "girly girls" and liked all that stuff. She said about Dream Girls, the movie, that it was a good movie. "I guess it was loosely based on our story, but they never came to me. I never saw any money from it." Mary also explained how Mo'Town owned the name, The Supremes, and how much she's had to fight to get the rights to their own name. "We didn't know back then. We just wanted to make records with Mo'Town."

When Mary first greeted the crowd, she received a standing ovation. When no one would stop clapping, she sang out “Stop! In the name of love, before you break my heart, think it ohw-ohw-ver…” complete with the choreography and all. She also pointed out the “ohw-ohw-ver” part was hers and Flo’s.

I really could go on, but let’s just say it was as entertaining as it was inspiring. It was just great.oving on, Brian “graduated” from the CE program on Saturday, so Sunday we took off for the Mt. Rainier National Park. Great weather, but I’m glad I brought layers as the temperature dropped incrementally as our elevation increased. You could only drive so far into the park, and the town called Paradise was the farthest point at this time of the season. We stayed at this quaint lodge cleverly called “Almost Paradise.” As far as I was concerned, it was. Especially, since all the time leading up to our trip, Brian had repeatedly said we’d be staying at the Ho-Jo, which would have been fine… but it wouldn’t have been like this place! We had a super lunch and the best fries at the Copper Creek Inn.

Mt. Rainier wildlife spottings included 3 fox, 1 marmot which looks like a giant hamster with a fluffy tail, 2 deer, and a chipmunk! We drove around the park and toured the visitor’s center, even caught the last 20 minute documentary, which was very informative: “Mt. Rainier is but a single bead on the great necklace of volcanoes that mark the Pacific Ring of Fire.” I know, it was a really good movie. Included on this “necklace” is Mt. Redoubt which we saw two weeks before on our drive to Homer, AK. You can still see Redoubt smoking since its eruption in March of 2009, over a year and two months later. Mt. Rainier weighs in with 25 glaciers and at 14,000 feet or so. Mt. McKinley sort of kicks its butt being almost another 10,000 ft. higher and I had just seen 26 glaciers, so whatever. Interestingly, unlike Mt. McKinley, you saw a lot more people coming down and going up the mountain paths. This one weathered woman was coming down from somewhere, and impressed, I asked, “Did you summit?” “Noo, I only climbed such-and-such a peak, it’s only 7000 ft.” Oh, well if that’s all… I didn’t climb much more than the toilet seat that day, so she had me beat! And she must have been 80. No joke.

More Mt. Rainier pix: http://mmwbpicturepostcards.shutterfly.com/247

Click here to view these pictures larger

Walking around Seattle reminded me how much I missed about my former city life in Chicago: having sidewalks, finding great happy hour specials like oysters in the half-shell for 50 cents each starting at 3 pm at Elliott's (but get there early, because the price per oyster goes up a quarter each half hour). I had 2 dozen oysters on Thursday from Puget Sound and another dozen that I shared with Jack the next day. I intentionally loaded up knowing my hook-up back home was gone. But I’m good on oysters now for at least the next 6 months.

It was great seeing wide-spread recycling and a mailbox on every other corner. A bounty of fresh fruit, vegetables, artisan olive oils and vinegars, orchestras, museums, and H & M and bookstores and countless other fun places to spend money. They don’t seem like big deal things, but I don’t have them now, and I miss them. But I have saved a lot of money.

However, I have yet to see a sunset or moonrise that’s prettier than the ones here. I came home refreshed and reflective, and ready to pay the price for procrastinating on a week’s worth of grad-school homework (really ought to start that paper now).

A Supreme Start to Summer Part I

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There Will be Stupidity

See caption under "S. Nooks" to the rght

Forget seeing Russia from Alaska. You can see walruses from here! Eat your heart out, Sarah P. Naww, I’m just messing. But Gulf Oil Spill Disaster Plans all included “walruses” on the list of wildlife affected. Maybe they meant manatees. Not everybody grew up reading Ranger Rick like we did. Nope, the plans said “walruses” because the drafting committee cut and paste the Valdez Exxon Oil Spill Disaster Plan into their own Gulf plan. Boy, I hope they remembered to change the name of the university when sending in their college applications and cover letters. But's it's done with now.

To clarify, I haven’t seen the tar balls and oil scuzz washing up on the beaches here. A lot is being caught by the Gulf Barrier Islands and LA and AL are both being hit. But the $5 deal for a dozen half-shell oysters at Mikey’s is gone!! The whole thing... I just get so mad. It breaks my heart to hear Bobby J. (La-Gov) speak of the damaged marshes that continue to soak up oil remnants every day. You can hear the heartbreak in every fisherman’s voice. There was so much easy to take for granted charm here, and I didn't appreciate "birding" and "shrimping" or "crabbing" until I lived here. Throughout generations, we’ve all had our hand in destroying the planet a little at a time. But this is a historic moment! Those poor blue-collar working stiffs of BP whose job wasn’t to reason why… how do they face their kids knowing, “Yes, my company killed Flipper, Nemo, Ariel and Sebastian, all their families and friends, and single-handedly ruined Earth.” Give me a Homer Simpson “Douhh!”

Ohh, the avarice. The humanity. At least Mother Nature just punched you in the gut and then it's over. It hurts, but eventually you can catch your breath and move on. This oil spill is like having your finger nails ripped out one at a time. And it’s still not over because oil is still oozing from the Earth’s aorta. And yes, everyone realizes that hurricane season is going to have a whole new layer of crude complexity and anxiety.

I really can’t stand people who are frustrated with the federal response. There will be complainers no matter how speedy the response is. No one likes spending money or extra work. Everyone likes a paycheck… I heard a story about how little influence or oversight Gulf fisherman had in off-shore drilling, and that if this were Alaska, Native groups collective voice would have been all over the oil rigs. They would have had a much bigger presence and pull in oversight, production regulations, and disaster response. Then, I heard another story about how Louisiana Politics and Oil have been bosom buddies since the 1800s. But facts are important, so I just did a little research myself (thanks Google) and found this article from a reliable liberal voice, Mr. Anderson Cooper. It’s the Energy Plan that was released at the end of March, three weeks before the Deep Horizons explosion. http://ac360.blogs.cnn.com/2010/03/31/obama-energy-plan-would-open-atlantic-and-gulf/

Based on my presumptuous and limited deductive reasoning, there is a high correlation in the lower 48 between states with a high concentration of affluent areas and areas marked “lack of support or low resource potential.” In the case of Alaska, the Aleutian Islands are the only area marked “protected” but there are still relatively small pockets that are even open to exploration compared to the potential of the whole Alaskan coastline. And that’s a big coastline. But too many groups care about preserving the land and sea. Those party-poopers. Plus, they managed to get money from the oil profits as part of the deal! No one in Mississippi or Louisiana or Alabama or Texas thought to collect a PFD check. From what I’ve learned, there was already a historical precedent of raping the land and people… oil rigs were just another link in the chain. But I still wonder if any of the Gulf communities, besides Florida, resisted off-shore drilling. Were they bought out? Could they not afford to say no to the financial gains and jobs? Natives didn't sell out the Earth for money (until we forced them to). First Peoples in the Northwest have a long-term perspective that's always been more mature than ours. We made the weather for this perfect storm of pollution, and now people are standing around wailing, “It’s raining! It’s raining!” (One of my favorite lines from a really good movie, Cold Mountain). To the “Drill Baby Drill” down the street, I want to punch you in your facebook.

Please note: I put gas in the car. I know it's important. If we're going to pillage the Earth, we must be gentle and smart. Not enough people cared to make sure BP was doing right by Mamma Nature.

How am I helping? First, Gretchen and I are going to shave off all our hair and donate it to the oil booms. Gretchen has plenty to spare. Next, I’m helping the Audubon Society next Tuesday make calls to more volunteers. It turns out, you can’t help wash off the birds (which is what I really wanted to do) until you go through a $200 training program which you pay for yourself. What gives? I thought all you needed was a bottle of Dawn and some Joe Purdy on the iPod. Lastly, a foreshadowing of sorts: Brian spilled some gas in the car last time he filled up the gas can for the lawnmower. This was in the beginning of May. So for the rest of the month, I drove to and from work and errands, listening to the news, and smelling gas--- quite a visceral experience, and yes, it does make you nauseous and cause wicked headaches, especially when the car and gas-smell are heated to 105’F. The smell is just starting to let up a little. However, I feel qualified enough to tell the Audubon, you can keep your $200 program, I’ve already paid my dues. Now, gimmie some pelicans!

Hail Class of 2010

Rachel and her class as well as Moss Point High School had their graduation on Friday night. We hosted Brian's parents, Kathy and Bob, and sister, Leigh Anne, who arrived Thursday and had a lovely time. Today, Brian's partner Mike Mayerchak had his graduation party. After 24 years of service, he will be moving to North Carolina and entering private practive. Brian made a lovely toast and Mike's boss and students' treated him to some thoughtful gifts from his alma mater, U of Kentucky.  Tomorrow, I'm watching the Blackhawk's play in Game 4 vs. San Jose on NBC and Monday is a half-day and the last regular day of school for the students. My last day on the job is Wednesday. On Thursday, we fly up to Alaska for our former neighbor's wedding, in which I will be standing- a total honor. I will be sure to shave legs and arm pits. Memoirs of my first semester of teaching on the way.

In other news, Angie's dad was having a kidney stone the night of Rachel's graduation. I felt so bad. Rachel's grandpa is such a sweetheart. But STUBBORN. He wasn't going home. He went to the hospital later, but he suffered through the evening against everyone's wishes. Now, that's a dedicated grandpa right there!

I love Kathy and Bob, my in-laws. Kathy was ahead of her time, going to college in the 50s, she had the first Black American roommate at her college. Her first job was teaching business classes at a high school in Florida, and then she taught business classes to women in prison. She made $3,000/month, $500 less than Bob who was working for the government at the time. Sadly, it seems like teacher salaries were worth more then than today.

It was the best of times. It was the stressed of times. Rachel has less than a week of school, I have less than 2 weeks of work, & oil is gushing into the Gulf.

We have a snow day! Who'd a thunk a snow day in Mississipp (32' and sleeting w/o a DOT equipped to do anything). + we have mon & tues off 4 Mardi G! Life:good

I said who dat jumpin on de saints band wagon. It's me! It's me!

2009 Rewind
I've been told I have until the end of January to make a legitimate 'year in review' post. To bring closure to an exciting year, i reflect in photo