La Joie de Vivre

While we are in the midst of the dog days of summer, I have been thinking about the dogs in my life. I have three: our bouncing beagle Belle, and my two rescued granddogs, Turner and Cole. I include Turner and Cole because my husband and I do a lot of puppysitting so we spend a fair amount of time with them. Time spent with dogs means lessons learned, and I have learned something from each of these special creatures.

Cole is a very energetic four-year-old Akita/Shepherd mix. My son adopted him from a shelter when he was about a year and a half old. Cole’s energy level hasn’t diminished a bit since his puppy days. He has a certain zest for life that is evident when you put him on a leash and he pulls you out of the house. It’s always a pleasure when Cole takes you for a walk!

Recently, I had the delight of accompanying Cole to the groomer’s. He bounded for the car and sat in the backseat with his head out the sunroof. Cole loves the wind blowing against his face when he rides in the car. Because my car is smaller, the sunroof works best for him. The road crews always enjoy it when Cole passes by them in my car!

When we arrived at our destination, Cole was beside himself with glee and could not wait to get out of the car. I somehow managed to wiggle out with him still on the leash as he pulled me in the direction of people. Cole wanted to greet everyone and tell them just how happy he was to be alive!

Once inside, Cole jumped up to be face to face with the groomer and tell her personally how happy he was to see her. The tail was wagging fiercely at this point. Cole simply could not contain himself. I waved goodbye as he trotted to the back room, groomer in tow.

When I went later that day to retrieve Cole, the groomer gushed that Cole was just so happy to do everything. He greeted everyone who came to the puppy salon, wagged the tail with gusto, and was in general elated with everything. When Cole came out, all clean and smelling wonderfully, he just could not wait to tell me what a great time he had had. He jumped up so that we were face to face and gave me a big, sloppy lick! Then he pulled me outside to the car, ready to stick his head out the sunroof for the glorious ride home!

Cole has taught me to find the joy in everything life has to offer. No need to sweat the small stuff, just bask in the glory of being alive, and make sure the windows (or the sunroof) are open!

This blogpost appeared as my column, "The Empty Nest," in the Frederick News Post on Sunday August 11, 2013.

Well-rested, well-tested

While we are in the midst of the dog days of summer, I have been thinking about the dogs in my life. I have three: our bouncing beagle Belle, and my two rescued granddogs, Turner and Cole. I include Turner and Cole because my husband and I do a lot of puppysitting so we spend a fair amount of time with them. Time spent with our dogs means lessons learned, and I have learned something from each of these special creatures.

Belle is a five year old tri-color beagle who is somewhat spoiled. No, let me re-phrase that, very spoiled. She came into our lives when she was about ten weeks old and very rapidly became our baby. When you ask my children who is their parents’ favorite child, they will reply in unison, “the dog!” Belle travels with us as often as she can and knows that going through a drive-through window means snacks! Her two favorites are McDonald’s and the bank!

Belle has taught me the importance of being well-rested. She can sleep anywhere! After her morning jaunt around the neighborhood, she is in need of a nap. Usually she lies behind the chair next to mine in the family room, but sometimes she hops up on the sofa. The heavy breathing starts a few minutes after she has settled down. The snoring begins not long after that. There’s almost always a late morning catnap followed by her afternoon siesta.

The problem with her sleeping is that Belle snores louder than any human! For her relatively small size, she puts out a big sound that has become progressively louder the older she gets. If Belle decides to take an afternoon nap upstairs in the bedroom, I can hear her snoring in the kitchen. One afternoon, I could not find her. I called and called to no avail. Then I listened, and sure enough I could hear that infamous snore! Snoring is a common sound at our house because Belle’s rest is essential to her good living.

Belle thinks that she is human and as such, she should sleep in a bed with humans. Whenever I’m interviewing a potential house-sitter, the first question is “how do you feel about sleeping with a snoring dog?” Those who answer “it’s no big deal” are usually hired! Because Belle sleeps with us every night –burrowed underneath the bedspread and sheets-I deal with the snoring on a regular basis. There have even been nights when the shaking of the bed from this little dog’s snoring has wakened me!

I have indeed learned from Belle how important good rest is, so I have resorted to sleeping with earplugs. It does help to deaden the sound and I usually sleep fairly well. I have also learned that napping when possible helps one to get through the busiest of days. So when I read about the essential eight hours of sleep for good health, all I can say is I’m trying!

There's No Place Like Home

While we are in the midst of the dog days of summer, I have been thinking about the dogs in my life. I have three: our bouncing beagle Belle, and my two rescued granddogs, Turner and Cole. I include Turner and Cole because my husband and I do a lot of puppysitting so we spend a fair amount of time with them. Time spent with dogs means lessons learned, and I have learned something from each of these special creatures.

Turner is an eight-year-old mix of everything. My daughter adopted him from a no-kill shelter when he was about eight months old. Turner at some point in his younger days had been abused and to this day, he is afraid of pretty much everything. He puts on a brave face when needed, but for the most part, he lives in fear. Turner is a loveable, huggable big old guy. He’s good for a bit of conversation as he loves to talk, and he likes to be the center of the conversation.

So Turner is also a stay-at-home kind of guy which is unusual because he has traveled so much. Although adopted in West Virginia, Maryland was home for a while. Turner loved Maryland. He enjoyed our backyard and rides on the boat, but the family room was always his favorite spot, a nice comfortable corner on the rug. Turner loved evenings at home with the entire family seated around him. Life circumstances have, however, pushed Turner outside of his comfort zone, and he has become a traveling pooch.

Turner traveled to North Carolina to visit family. He enjoyed rest stops along the way where he met people from all over. Connecticut was a favorite place for Turner. We spent some time along the river in Niantic where he took pleasure in walking along the beach. He loved Baltimore and was even the “musical chairs” champ two years in a row at the American Visionary Arts Museum’s Pet Parade.

But Turner’s real travel experiences began after my daughter married and she and Turner moved to the Netherlands. He didn’t really appreciate flying but acclimated well to the Dutch lifestyle and living in a city. Turner has traveled to France, Belgium and throughout the Netherlands. He has run along the beach and stayed in hotels. He is a rather well-traveled canine.

Turner has voyaged by plane, boat, train, and even jogged along side his “parents” as they cycle through the cities of the Netherlands. He takes the bus when the family ventures to the city center. Let’s face it, Turner gets around!

But Turner is happiest at home, surrounded by those he loves. He has a special carpet in the living room that we refer to as his “island.” He’s most comfortable there. You can see it in his face. Turner has taught me that you can travel all around the world, but there really is “no place like home!”

When In Rome

This blogpost appeared as my July column "The Empty Nest" in the Frederick News Post.

Summer is here and that means it’s vacation time! While we haven’t had a family vacation for a while, there were many that taught this family about travel. One trip to California taught my son that if you travel to a far off place, you must experience what your destination has to offer you.

We spend a lot of time at baseball parks. It’s a passion of my son. Many years ago, the Frederick Keys had a Blockbuster Video contest during each game. Timmy entered the contest at every game we attended, but he never won. In early September that year, we received a telephone call and were told that Timmy had won the Blockbuster grand prize-a trip to California! The woman on the phone quickly informed us that the trip included hotel accommodations and a few other perks, but that airfare to California was not included. With an airline employee in the family, this was not a concern for us. We would use my husband’s employee flight benefits.

So we began planning our mini vacation to California. On the top of my son’s list of things to do was to ride the new Jurassic Park ride that had just opened up at Universal Studios in Los Angeles. He had seen commercials on TV and was elated to have the opportunity to finally go there. It was all he talked about for the weeks leading up to the trip.

When we arrived in California, Timmy was ready to head directly to the amusement park. It was all that we could do to convince him to wait until the next day. Early that morning, he woke ready to go. At the park when the gates opened, we headed directly to the Jurassic Park area for the ride he so wanted to experience.

His pace slowed as we neared the large dinosaurs. The jungle sounds were all around us and things began to feel a little eerie. You could almost sense an imminent dinosaur attack. Then my son stopped dead in his tracks. “Maybe we shouldn’t do this,” he said. He started to list the dangers of amusement park rides. Perhaps it would be best for our safety if we skipped the ride and just strolled around the park.

I sat my son down on a nearby bench and told him about how he had waited for months to ride, how it was the only thing he could talk about, and how we had traveled so far to experience this one particular ride. And then I became the evil mother. I forced my son to get back in the line and ride that ride. I held his hand the entire time and tried to convince him that it would be all right.

We rode the ride, we went to Rome and did like the Romans. I’m not sure he forgave me, but I think somewhere deep inside he was glad we did.

Love at First Sight

Summer means it’s vacation time! While we haven’t had a family vacation for a while, there were many that taught this family about travel. One trip to Disney World a long time ago taught us the true meaning of “love at first sight.”

We were living in Florida at the time. My husband was stationed at NAS Whiting Field as an instructor pilot. Since both of our children were under the age of five, we thought it might be fun to spend a week in Orlando visiting Disney World. Bags were packed, thrown into the mini van, and we were off!

Arriving at the Magic Kingdom, we knew that we wanted to have lunch in Cinderella’s castle. Cinderella was one of my daughter’s favorite Disney princesses, so we knew that she would be thrilled to dine in the castle. When the gates to the park opened, I rushed ahead of the family towards the castle. My goal was to secure a lunch reservation.

When a lunch time was reserved, we decided to tour the park. Much of our time was spent seeking the autographs of the costumed characters. We purchased the required autograph books at one of the gift shops and began searching for Mickey, Minnie and friends. We sailed through “It’s A Small World” a few times, rode the Alice in Wonderland teacup ride, and toured Mickey’s house. By then it was time to head to the castle for our midday meal.

In the main hall of the castle, we waited for our names to be called. Tiffany posed for pictures by the fireplace. Timmy, who was only about ten months old, was taking in the entire scene. His head turned from side to side as he watched other children excitedly running around. Finally, our name was called and we climbed the staircase to find our seats.

At our table, Tiffany jumped up and down, wondering out loud when Cinderella would show up. Timmy sat in his high chair and continued to soak in the setting. We placed our meal orders and tried to talk about what we were going to do after lunch in hopes of settling down a certain little girl.

Then she appeared across the room in her beautiful blue and white dress. Tiffany squealed when she saw her, but it was Timmy’s reaction that caught us off guard. He couldn’t take his eyes off the princess. When she finally approached our table, my little boy almost fell out of his chair trying to reach her. And when she touched his hand, he squealed out loud! IT was truly love at first sight. My little boy’s first true love!

We visited the parks, rode rides, met costumed characters, but the memory we recall the most often from that trip is Timmy falling in love!

No Room at the inn

Summer means vacation time and while we haven’t had a family vacation for a while, there were many that taught this family about travel. One trip to Niagra Falls taught us the importance of pre-trip planning.

We decided the week before Labor Day to head to upstate New York for a long weekend. There was an exhibit at the Baseball Hall of Fame that I really wanted to see, and the kids had never been to Niagra Falls. So we decided to hit the road early Saturday morning. Now I figured that most people would be heading to the beach and not north, so we made no arrangements for the trip, in particular, no hotel reservations.

We arrived at the Hall of Fame early in the afternoon, had lunch, and visited the exhibit dedicated to Peanuts creator, Charles Schulz. Finally, we decided to hop back in the car, drive a little farther on, and begin our search for hotel accommodations.

About an hour or so from the falls, we decided to take an exit where there appeared to be a few hotels. We stopped at each one only to find that there were no vacancies in any of them. I was rather shocked. We weren't really near anything, so why would all of the hotel rooms be full? My husband decided to head out a bit farther on the interstate and check out the next exit.

At each and every exit, we were greeted with the same response, “no room at the inn.” When we were just a few minutes from the falls, we pulled into a little town. There we spotted a hotel sign blinking “rooms available.” Hallelujah! Our patience had paid off.

As we drove into the hotel parking lot, I noticed that it looked a lot shabbier at close range. In fact, it looked downright spooky, but my husband decided to go in and speak to the guy at the desk. He reported, upon his return, that there was one room available at the price of $250! This dump of a hotel was charging Ritz Carlton prices! “Absolutely not!” I exclaimed. We would not pay that amount to sleep here!

Onward we went, towards Ohio, searching for a place to sleep. By this time it was getting close to midnight. At the next stop, my husband was informed that the closest hotel with vacancies was some five hours away!

We found the parking lot of a nice elementary school to spend the night. Parked underneath a street light, we put the kids in the front so that they could recline the seats and be more comfortable. My husband and I snuggled together in the back seat, sitting straight up. We slept on and off for about three hours that night. It wasn’t ideal, but it taught us to always book our hotel in advance of departure. Haven’t slept in the car since!

Teachers have been heralded in the press recently for saving the lives of their students during a fierce tornado in Oklahoma. Stories of teachers huddled over small children protecting them from debris and harm have been ubiquitous. To think that teachers have also been blamed for low student achievement and the decline in our educational system has me baffled.

Both of my children attended the Advanced Music Studies program offered at Gov. Thomas Johnson High School through Frederick County Public Schools. The music program offers intensive music theory and music performance training. There’s always been music in our house, and I was elated to have my daughter and son accepted in this very special program.

While attending the music program, both Tiffany and Timmy were fortunate enough to have Mr. Jennings Glenn as a teacher. Mr. Glenn encouraged both of my children to reach beyond what they thought they were capable of, to question the status quo, and to be creative individuals. He showed them the relevance of music to their lives and how music can inspire us to new levels of thinking outside the box.

While both of my children focused on vocal music performance, Mr. Glenn encouraged them to explore instrumental music. He encouraged Tiffany to perform on her harp and challenged her to conquer difficult musical pieces. He inspired Timmy to work in musical composition, and challenged my son’s creative abilities. As a result there's now an electric piano in our music room in addition to the old Kohler and Campbell.

Music is one of the first programs to face the chopping block when school districts look to reduce spending. Mr. Glenn encouraged my daughter and son to be creative, to look from a different perspective. He challenged them to solve problems in musical composition, to work with groups, and to believe in themselves. These are life skills that they use as adults today.

Mr. Glenn was a role model for his students. He took his music out in to the community and shared his gift with others. As Plato said, “Music is the movement of sound to reach the soul for the education of its virtue.” Mr. Glenn embodied Plato’s thought.

We’ve all had a special teacher, the one who inspired us. Many of us have been fortunate to have had many teachers like Mr. Glenn. Those who enter the teaching profession are called to do so. They love what they are doing, and they love our kids, so much so that they risk their lives for them. A society that values its children must also value its education system and its teachers.

Make some time this week to thank a teacher, and better yet, contact your legislators and let them know how much you value teachers.

Second Grade with Mrs. Vogler

Teachers have been heralded in the press recently for saving the lives of their students during a fierce tornado in Oklahoma. Stories of teachers huddled over small children protecting them from debris and harm have been ubiquitous. To think that teachers have also been blamed for low student achievement and the decline in our educational system has me baffled.

I began my involvement in education as a parent volunteer in my son’s second grade class. It was there, in the fall of 1993, that I was privileged to have made the acquaintance of Mrs. Carol Vogler. My children had attended a private school prior to that fall, so we were beginning our association with the public school system.

I volunteered one morning each week in Mrs. Vogler’s class that year. She would challenge me with the creation of bulletin boards, something that I have yet to master. I would grade papers, and sometimes if I was really lucky, I would tutor struggling young students with math and reading. Mrs. Vogler was always coming up with new strategies for me to use when I worked with these students. She was most concerned that all of her students were successful. I was impressed with her dedication to teaching.

But what most impressed me was my son’s reaction to this new teacher. She made him laugh, and she met him each day with new challenges. For instruction in fractions, the students prepared a recipe in class. Timmy was so proud to help measure the ingredients. Of course, we had to recreate the dish at home so that the entire family could sample what the second grade had made.

Timmy wanted to go to school. He wanted to share with Mrs. Vogler what we had done over the weekend. She inspired him to read and to do his best. Timmy even agreed to play the role of Abraham Lincoln in a class skit. We were challenged to create his costume and were thrilled with the class performance.

Mrs. Vogler made holidays special, hugged when there were boo-boos on the playground, and was always encouraging the second graders to do their very best. She embodied the qualities of a true professional and a dedicated teacher. It was evident that she loved her job and that her students loved her.

We’ve all had a special teacher, the one who inspired us. Many of us have been fortunate to have had many teachers like Mrs. Vogler. Those who enter the teaching profession are called to do so. They love what they are doing, and they love our kids, so much so that they risk their lives for them. A society that values its children must also value its education system and its teachers.

Make some time this week to thank a teacher, and better yet, contact your legislators and let them know how much you value teachers.

Lois Jarman writes from Knoxville. She teaches in the Frederick County Public Schools and at Shepherd University, and has a blog, Mom’s Ponderings, at http://momsponderings.blogspot.com.

Grandma Clara

As a grandmother, Mother's Day has taken on new meaning for me. This year, in particular, I have been thinking a lot about my grandmother, or my step-grandmother to be more precise. I never met my father’s mother. She died many years before my parents even met. I only ever knew my grandfather’s wife, Grandma Clara, as my paternal grandmother.

My grandmother Clara never had children of her own, so she never really quite understood how to handle my siblings and me. Quiet times of chatting and reading were her style, not the jumping and shouting that we were more prone to do. We always knew that there was a certain standard for behavior when we went to Grandma’s.

Her furniture was all plastic covered, and there were definitely no feet on the sofa! Every knick-knack and doily was meticulously placed in each room of her house. Many times visits were held outside on her front porch. She didn’t trust three wild little ones very much!

But as I grew older, I learned to appreciate my grandmother. She shared her stories of being a working woman in the 1950s, something that my mother and maternal grandmother knew nothing of. Grandma had been completely independent her entire life and she was immensely proud of that. She loved my grandfather dearly, but she was also confident that she could manage on her own if needed.

When I was pregnant with Tiffany, my grandmother and I shared another bond. She lived the pregnancy that she never had with me. When Tiffany was born, she presented me with some beautiful silk that she had purchased in Asia many years before. She had bought it to make a christening gown for the child she hoped to have someday. Together we planned the dress that would be made for my daughter, her great-granddaughter.

My grandmother loved watching Tiffany grow up. I would frequently send pictures and we would talk on the phone. We would have luncheon outings, and she would share with me her regrets about not being able to have children. I would share my concerns about how to raise Tiffany, and she would give me her advice, what she would have done.

Grandma Clara passed away a few years ago. She was ninety-two when she died. Although she never truly experienced motherhood, she helped me to appreciate it. I will forever be grateful for her support and her confidence in me. She was a grandmother in every sense of the word to me. I just wish that she could have met my granddaughter, Chloe. I’d love to share with her how I hope to be like her in many ways.

My "Mare"

As a grandmother, Mother's Day has taken on new meaning for me. This year, in particular, I have been thinking a lot about my grandmother, my “Mare.” I don’t know why but for some reason, as I young child, I began referring to her as Mare, and her name was Leona! Not even close to Mary or even Marian. My grandfather used to sing that she was the old gray mare!

Growing up I spent a great deal of time at Mare’s house. During the summer, I would sleepover frequently after having spent the day playing with my aunts. My two aunts were more like older sisters. Fran was five years older, and Donna, two. They had their own bedroom, but at night, I would snuggle in the cot that was set up next to my grandparents’ bed in their room. There was a loud ticking clock in their bedroom, and I remember falling asleep to the tick-tock of that clock. It was soothing, and I always felt safe.

There was also a bookshelf in Mare and Pop’s room. A shelf full of books-we didn’t have such a thing at our house. I remember sitting in her room and pulling books from the shelf, turning the pages slowly and carefully to look at the words and the pictures that appeared on each page. I remember thumbing through those books long before I was ever able to read them. The pages and the stories they told were the source of many daydreams for me. I would travel to far off places in my imagination. I felt empowered sitting near her bookshelf.

My grandmother’s house was always filled with wonderful smells. She was a great cook. I remember sitting at the kitchen table watching her prepare my favorite foods for me. I felt like a princess having someone take such good care of me. Breakfast was particularly nice because I could watch her while everyone else was still asleep. My grandfather would sit on the rocking chair in the corner reading his newspaper, and I would watch my grandmother carefully fix the morning meal for her beloved family. I always felt loved with her.

My grandmother’s house was one of my favorite places on earth. It was a good place to be. As I make preparations for visits from my own granddaughter, I want my home to be that special place for her. I want her to feel safe, empowered, and loved. Grandmothers touch our lives in so many very special ways. I’m so excited to be in this place in life, loving my granddaughter and feeling the love of my grandmother forever in my life.

My Baseball Son

As I sit here in sunny Arizona watching the Dodgers at their morning practice and receive text messages about the predicted snow back home, I am reminded that spring is here! Baseball has begun and Maryland weather is whacky! Welcome to spring.

Baseball has been a part of our lives for as long as I can remember. When we moved to Frederick years ago, we got caught up in the idea of a minor league team coming to play in our new “hometown.”

One chilly spring evening, we packed up the kids and headed to McCurdy field to watch the Frederick Keys play ball. My son, Timmy, was more interested in playing in the dirt underneath the bleachers than he was in the sport. It was after all his first game, he would prove to be a much better fan of the sport as he grew up.

Once the Frederick Keys moved to their new home at Harry Grove stadium, Timmy was almost five. By the time he reached the age of seven, he had developed into a real baseball fan. We became regulars at the stadium, joined the Keys fan club, and began housing players. Each spring Timmy anxiously awaited the arrival of his “summer brother.” We housed players for ten years, and one, Darnell McDonald, has remained a life-long brother to my son. In fact, Darnell is with the Cubs this season and that’s why this year our spring training trip brought us to Arizona and not Florida. The Cubs hold camp in the Phoenix area.

My son spent three seasons as a bat boy for the Keys, working each summer under the guidance of clubhouse manager George Bell. He learned a lot about baseball, but the lessons on character were what I believe have stuck with him the most.

Timmy knows every statistic about ball players and the sport. He’s always ready for a discussion about a particular World Series or a record-breaking game. But his heart has been and always will be with the minor leagues.

When we go to training camps, he heads directly for the minor league fields. It’s there that he chats with developing players and coaches. He talks to young men who are struggling or some who are playing on a high. They toss comments back and forth about pitching and hitting, about batting stance and curve balls.

My son has such deep respect for many of these young men who will never make it to the major leagues but who give their hearts day in and day out for a game they love. We’ll be at a lot of minor league games this season, cheering these players on. This is the baseball my son loves. Head to a minor league game this season and see the game played with real heart!

This blogpost appeared as my April 2013 monthly column in the Frederick News Post.

Community Sport

As I sit here in sunny Arizona watching the Dodgers at their morning practice and receive text messages about the predicted snow back home, I am reminded that spring is here! Baseball has begun and Maryland weather is whacky! Welcome to spring.

Baseball has been a part of our lives for as long as I can remember. When we moved to Frederick years ago, we got caught up in the idea of a minor league team coming to play in our new “hometown.” Baseball has, over the years, become a community sport for us.

I was a Girl Scout leader while Tiffany was growing up and my Cadette troop decided that they wanted to travel. We picked an itinerary for a trip to Mexico and began the arduous task of raising money. Each girl in the troop raised her own funds for the trip. Now you might not think that baseball and scouting would go hand in hand, but they do.

Not only did our home team, the Frederick Keys, offer special Scout nights where my girls got in free or at a reduced rate, but they also offered the opportunity for non-profit organizations to fundraise in the concession stands. And that is precisely what my girls did one summer. They spent evenings and afternoons dishing out hot dogs and soft pretzels. They learned about patience and customer service and how to handle a crowd. The Girl Scouts, and there were many, who were involved in fundraising at Harry Grove stadium benefited in a variety of ways from our community team. Many continue to be baseball fans today.

I was also very active with the Fredericktowne Players for many years. Putting on a show is an expensive endeavor and so we were always looking for new and creative ways to earn money. We were looking for something “fun.”

Our community team suggested that the Players coordinate The Fun Patrol at the stadium. So for two baseball seasons, volunteer performers, set constructors, make up artists and others joined the ranks of the Patrol. We were responsible for on-field antics, games, and just generally getting the crowd rowdy. For some older members, this meant crawling on to the top of the dug-out, limping up and down the stadium stairs, and rushing back to an air conditioned press box to cool down in the summer months. The relationship between the arts community and the baseball community continues.

The Keys have reached out to help the Scouts, the Players, local marching bands and cheerleading organizations, and the people of Frederick County have been there to support the community’s team.

Baseball full circle

As I sit here in sunny Arizona watching the Dodgers at their morning practice and receive text messages about the predicted snow back home, I am reminded that spring is here! Baseball has begun and Maryland weather is whacky! Welcome to spring.

Baseball has been a part of our lives for as long as I can remember. When we moved to Frederick years ago, we got caught up in the idea of a minor league team coming to play in our new “hometown.” An outing to a ball game would be fun for our two small children, Tiffany was five and Timmy was two.

On a chilly spring evening, we packed up the kids and headed to McCurdy field to watch the game. Timmy was more interested in the dirt underneath the bleachers and Tiffany was very interested in the cotton candy. But my husband and I enjoyed the peacefulness of a good ball game played in a more intimate setting.

Today our home team plays at Harry Grove stadium which is much bigger than McCurdy field. We still venture to our local ball park for a good ol’ all-American evening in the spring and summer. We cheer for our home team, sip on the locally brewed beer, and chow down on food that is probably not so good for the health, but it’s good for the soul. My trips to the stadium back fond memories of heading to Memorial Stadium with my grandparents to watch the Orioles play, to cheer along with Wild Bill, and to munch on that same ballpark fare.

Baseball for me has come full circle. Last year, I was able to take my granddaughter to some games. She was thrilled when she got to meet Keyote at Harry Grove! We played in the children’s area of the ballpark. At Harry Grove, kids don’t have to play in the dirt like my son did many years ago! There are many more exciting things to do!

We even headed to Oriole Park with Chloe. She was amazed by all of the sites and sounds. We laughed at the Oriole Bird, cheered on the team, and played in the kid-friendly section of the stadium. At the Fan Services desk, she even received an official fan certificate!

Being at the stadium last summer with my grandchild helped me to understand how my grandparents must have felt during our outings to the stadium. It’s all-American. It’s about families, kids, and having fun. Spring is here! Are you ready for some baseball?

Side trip to Luxemburg

Well, it’s March, and for my husband and me, that means our annual trip to France. Each year during spring break we spend a week in France. We chose a different destination, but always stop to visit friends in Normandy.

A few years ago, we decided that our destination would be Strasbourg. Strasbourg today is a French city, but it is rich in German tradition because throughout its history, the city has been both French and German. Whenever we travel in France, we always rent a car to get around. So this particular year, we were driving from Normandy to Strasbourg.

We spent two glorious days in the city. We toured the cathedral and took a walking tour of the historic district. There were boat cruises down the Ill river and where we gazed at the beautiful architecture. We dined on bratwurst and crepes. It was wonderful!

Our journey home was to include a drive to The Netherlands so that we could spend the final few days of our trip with our daughter and son-in-law who live just outside of Amsterdam. As with all of our driving adventures, my husband takes the wheel and I take the atlas. He’s the pilot, and I am the official navigator.

As we were driving, I was looking at the map and noticed that the road we were on was not very far from Luxemburg. Luxemburg is one of the smallest countries in Europe, but it is a francophone country, and so we discuss Luxemburg in my French classes. From looking at the map, it seemed like we were less than an inch from there!

Somehow I managed to persuade my husband to take a side trip to Luxemburg. “What will we do in Luxemburg?” my husband asked. I told him that the capital was Luxemburg City, so we would start there.

Luxemburg, like its namesake country, is not very big. We followed the signs to the city center, and then found a sign that pointed us to the tourism office. I gushed when I told the woman at the desk that I was a French teacher and that this was our first visit to Luxemburg. Then I asked her what there was to do. She paused for a moment, trying think, and then said “Well, we have a church…and I guess the Duke’s palace.” That was all that she could come up with!

So we saw the church, and the Duke’s palace. You can only look at the outside of the palace because the Duke actually lives there! We had lunch in a lovely little café and strolled through the streets of the city. In just a few hours time, we had done what we could in Luxemburg and headed north to the Netherlands.

Our adventures in rental cars in France continue. I will always be the navigator and the translator! I wonder what surprises this year’s trip will bring us, but it’s sure to be a bon voyage!

Detour to Lascaux

Well, it’s March, and for my husband and me, that means our annual trip to France. Each year during spring break we spend a week in France. We chose a different destination, but always stop to visit friends in Normandy.

A few years ago, we chose the walled medieval city of Carcassonne as our destination. Carcassonne is in the south central part of France, so we decided to include a visit to see our friend Martine who lives in that area. Whenever we travel in France, we always rent a car to get around. This particular year, we were driving from Normandy to the French region of Lot.

We spent two wonderful days with Martine. We toured Carcassonne, its castle and its cathedral. We sipped wine and ate crepes! Carcassonne is one of the most beautiful sites in France and is rich in history. Martine is a wonderful cook, so we ate very well during our visit.

Our journey home was via Charles de Gaulle airport in Paris, so we headed north early one morning. As with all of our driving adventures, my husband takes the wheel and I take the atlas. He’s the pilot, and I am the official navigator. As we were driving, I was looking at the map and noticed that the road we were on was not very far from Lascaux, the site of prehistoric caves and some of the best examples of prehistoric paintings. Not far, indeed, by looking at the map, we were less than an inch away!

Somehow I managed to persuade my husband to take a side trip to Lascaux, and the shortest route that I had found on the map was through some, what we would consider, “county” roads. Well, our county roads are not quite like French county roads. These were more like long driveways. At one point we thought we were in the middle of a farm. The buildings surrounding us looked like large barns with a few small houses interspersed. We were actually in the “downtown” area of one of the region’s villages!

Finally, we saw two children on bikes. They couldn’t have been any older than twelve. My husband told me to “ask them how to get to Lascaux” “They wouldn’t know,” I said to him. “They’re kids!” But he pulled the car over anyway, and I was forced to get out and ask these to children for directions.

I got back in the car and told him to just keep following the same road. “Is that what they said?” Of course it wasn’t! They were clueless and hadn’t ever heard of Lascaux!

We made it to Lascaux, toured the replica caves (the original caves have been sealed because of damage to the paintings from human foot traffic), and headed to de Gaulle airport for our flight home. We still laugh about the back roads of France and our journey down that long driveway! Our adventures in rental cars continue, and I will always be the navigator and the translator! I wonder what surprises this year’s trip will bring us, but it’s sure to be a bon voyage!

This blogpost appeared as my column, "The Empty Nest," in the Frederick News Post on Sunday March 3, 2013.

Road trip to Conques

Well, it’s March, and for my husband and me, that means our annual trip to France. Each year during spring break we spend a week in France. We chose a different destination, but always stop to visit friends in Normandy.

A few years ago, we decided that our destination would be the abbey of Conques. I was taking a medieval art class for my master’s degree, and we had studied the saint whose relics were kept at the abbey as well as some of the architectural features of the abbey. It was a place that I desperately wanted to see.

Whenever we travel in France, we always rent a car to get around. Yes, the trains in Europe are highly efficient and convenient to use, but they don’t stop wherever I want to, which is not convenient for me! For this particular trip, we flew to Nice. We were driving north to visit Conques and then on to Normandy to visit with our friends. My husband is always the driver, and I am always in charge of the road atlas. He’s the pilot and I’m the navigator.

Well, on this particular occasion, my husband insisted the navigator had made a mistake. “We’re lost,” he announced. “You need to ask someone for directions.” Whenever we’re in France, I’m the speaker. My husband can say “bonjour” and “ma femme est très jalousie”-my wife is very jealous, but that’s about the extent of his ability to speak in French.

So we pulled over in a small town to ask how to get to Conques. Now mind you, we were in southern France. I asked a gentleman about the road to Conques, and he didn’t seem to understand my question. So I asked it again, and still no comprehension. After about the fifth time of repeating myself, I decided to spell the name of the town C-O-N-Q-U-E-S.
“Ah,” he said, “ConquAH!” Even in the south of France there is a southern accent and I had not perfected mine. “Yes,” I replied, “ConquAH.”

He then proceeded to provide us with very precise directions to Conques. We toured the abbey and the town, saw the treasure of the abbey, and had a wonderful meal in a lovely restaurant.

As we have had the opportunity to travel more in the south of France, I have continued to experience the French southern accent and the region’s southern hospitality. We continue our adventures in a car, and I will always be the navigator and the translator! I wonder what surprises this year’s trip will bring us, but it’s sure to be a bon voyage!

Carpe Diem!

It’s Super Bowl Sunday and over the past week, I have been thinking about the life lessons that the sport of football has taught me. This year, the lesson has been carpe diem-seize the day, take advantage of the moment!

For about the past twelve years, we have been season ticket holders with the Baltimore Ravens. As such, we are able to purchase playoff game tickets and are placed in a lottery should the team ultimately make it to the Super Bowl. I always dutifully purchase my playoff tickets, send my son and usually my husband (if he is not working) to the game while I sit at home in my cozy family room and watch the game in the warmth of my home.

I’m a sports fan, but I am quite literally a fair weather fan. I enjoy watching football games but not as much as I enjoy staying warm and dry! So I buy the tickets and send others off to the stadium. It makes for a nice quiet house in which to watch the game.

As it turns out, this year, I won the lottery! Yes, I won the opportunity to purchase two tickets to the Super Bowl! My son was elated, he desperately wanted to go, but my husband was scheduled to work that weekend. I was not personally thrilled about spending the weekend in New Orleans, and mentioned to my son the possibility of selling the tickets. I had noticed on Stub Hub that they were already selling for more than twice their face value.

My husband and I discussed the situation and were leaning towards listing the tickets for sale. I packed up my bag and headed to the university to teach my classes. About halfway there, I picked up the phone and dialed the home number. We needed to do something. After all, when was this opportunity going to present itself again? Maybe my son could find a friend to go with him, maybe I could travel with him to New Orleans. When would the Ravens be in a Super Bowl again, when would the Harbaugh brothers be matched up in a game like this again? We had to seize the moment!

My husband picked up the phone and said, “You know, I’ve been thinking.” We still had enough time that he could request the weekend off, surely another pilot would be willing to fly his trip that weekend. My husband had decided that this shot at a Super Bowl game was too amazing to pass up. He was thinking the same thing I was!

So on Friday, my boys headed to New Orleans to witness a history-making football game. The Harbaugh family will head home victorious either way, and Super Bowl rings will be distributed to another winning team. This was definitely the year to carpe diem!

Don't Give up the Ship

It’s Super Bowl Sunday and over the past week, I have been thinking about the life lessons that the sport of football has taught me. This year, the lesson has been don’t give up the ship!

We were in the midst of watching the Ravens play the Denver Broncos in the AFC playoff game. It wasn’t looking good for the Ravens. I called my son who was watching the game with his friends in Virginia. “Don’t give up yet, Mom,” he told me and he added how the Ravens really wanted to win and who knew what they might be able to pull off.

I hung up the phone hopeful, but realistic. It just wasn’t looking good for our team. Then with less than a minute left in regulation time, it was touchdown Ravens and the score was tied! We were headed into over time!

For the next ten to fifteen minutes, I didn’t breath very well. It was just too close! Then in the second overtime period, the Ravens came within field goal range. Could it be possible? Could they win it?

The Ravens and their team leader, Ray Lewis, were considered underdogs in each playoff came they entered. But they never gave up the ship. The signs in Boston that were counting down to Ray’s retirement are still counting down. The Baltimore home team never lost its drive.

The Ravens’ lesson is a lesson for all of us. Things might not be going our way, but if we get in there and give it all we’ve got, we, too, might be heading for that Super Bowl game and putting off our own retirements!

A few months ago, a student of mine approached me with a problem that she had been dealing with at home. She was feeling quite depressed. We talked over many lunch shifts and she began to develop a plan to change the situation. She set a goal and began to work diligently towards achieving that goal. Recently, she popped into my classroom with a big grin on her face. Things were beginning to go her way, and she was feeling much more confident and capable. She hadn’t given up the ship!

Sports are just games, but they’re games that are a part of our lives, whether we play or watch from the sidelines. One of the lessons that the players demonstrate for us on a regular basis is to persevere; to keep on trying even when the odds are against you. It’s a lesson we can live with. I know I have a few goals that I don’t plan on giving up on, how about you?

Playing the game with Class

It’s Super Bowl Sunday and over the past week, I have been thinking about the life lessons that the sport of football has taught me. This year, the lesson has been has been learned from watching Robert Griffin III play for the Redskins.

It’s not often that a young professional athlete plays as if he’s totally in control of things; an athlete with poise and a certain elegance. RGIII certainly was that in his first season. He was friendly and respectful. He knew how to play the game and he also knew when the blame was his to take.

On television and in advertising we are bombarded with images of professional athletes selling us products and telling us how to make the most of our lives. Our kids soon learn to look up to these athletes and try their best to emulate them. Sometimes, however, the athlete doesn’t live up to societal expectations. It’s a lot of pressure, and some just cannot handle it, but RGIII seems to be on the right track.

When my son was in elementary school, he thought Troy Aikman was the greatest player. We watched every Cowboys game just to watch my son’s quarterback hero play each game of the season. Timmy wore a Troy Aikman jersey and listened to him speak every time he appeared on a sports program.

One day he told me that he was going to write a letter to Troy and tell him what a great player he was. We wrote the letter, posted it, and sent it on its way. I didn’t think we would every hear anything from it, but much to my surprise a few weeks later a return letter arrived with a glossy photo of Mr. Aikman.

We framed the picture and saved the letter, and that little boy of mine lit up like a star whenever he told people about his letter to Troy Aikman.

Athletes who play the game with class are truly the professional athletes. They make a difference not only in the sports they play, but to the fans who adore them. It is a burden that they carry. Many athletes are not role models who play with class, but for those who do, they enhance the game.

RGIII is looking to be one of those players, and I am certain that he will influence many young people. I know I’m a fan, and I pull for the Ravens!

Miracle on 34th Street

We’ve had a new baby in our lives this past year, my beautiful granddaughter, Chloe, and I have noticed how her presence has managed to bring out the child in all of us.

For Christmas, we planned a trip to New York City and a stop at Macy’s so that Chloe could see “the real Santa.” My family gathered around the television every year to watch “Miracle on 34th Street,” so we know assuredly that the real guy is at Macy’s Herald Square.

We arrived on 34th street early one Friday afternoon and headed directly to the store's elevator and the 8th floor. On the way up, we shared stories of visits in years past. We giggled in anticipation of seeing the Christmas village decorations and, of course, the jolly old elf himself.

Mrs. Claus was waving to the patient visitors as we took our places in line. We chatted with her and asked her about her cookie baking. Then we were treated to a visit from Virginia of Macy’s story “Yes, Virginia, There Is A Santa Claus.” We all waved to Virginia and greeted her with a chorus of hellos. Finally, we boarded a train that rocked and chugged before delivering us to Santaland.

The wait was a quick forty-five minutes that was spent wandering through a Christmas wonderland. We oo-ed and ah-ed when we saw the miniature railroad with its train running up and down several levels. We sang along with the robotic snowmen carolers and danced to the music of the Nutcracker Suite with the dancing bears.

Santa’s helpers pointed us down the winding trail and ultimately to Santa’s workshop. Seated in the center of one room of the workshop was the main guy himself. As we turned the corner, all of the adults chimed in with “Hi, Santa!” Chloe seemed rather impressed with his garb and she was very interested in his beard. We chatted about Christmas and how busy the elves and the Clauses had been. Pictures were snapped and the room was filled with laughter.

We left Santaland giggling and singing. All of the kids, big and small, were grinning as we descended in the elevator on our way to see the decorated windows. There were more oos and ahs as we strolled past each window. The lights of the city had begun to flicker on. This trip to New York during the holidays was different. We were seeing things through Chloe’s eyes and enjoying once again the wonders of the city at Christmas.

I plan this year to continue to look at life through a child’s eyes; to find pleasure in the simplest of things, and to laugh. I invite you to do the same. Happy New Year!

White Christmas

We’ve had a new baby in our lives this past year, my beautiful granddaughter, Chloe, and I have noticed how her presence has managed to bring out the child in all of us.

Christmas Eve brought snow and a white Christmas to our home. Throughout the day we peered through the windows to assess snow accumulation and to see if the predicted changeover to rain would occur. With a winter wonderland surrounding us ,we all bundled up after dinner and ventured out in the white stuff. My husband found an old snow saucer out in the garage and attached a long rope to it. Miss Chloe was placed in her transport and we all ran following her as my husband towed her across the snow. Adult laughter rang out with the baby giggles. Even the dogs were running around behind the laughing humans.

Then my daughter decided it was time to make some snow angels. She grabbed Chloe off the snow saucer and showed her the art of creating snow angels. The girls rolled around in the snow while the boys decided to build some snowmen. My son and his dog opted to just run circles in the white fluff. And above all of this chaos, the laughter continued to ring.

Soon the girls joined in the snowman construction and my husband hurried into the house to gather carrots and other accessories for our newly built friends. By the time snow friend number one was completed, Miss Chloe’s little nose was red and cold, so the grandparents decided it was time to head into the house for some hot chocolate. It was about then that my almost thirty-year-old daughter said, “Mommy, we want to stay outside and finish our snowman.” Flashback! My adult daughter was my little girl once again. And the grin on my face was huge!

Hubby and I scooped up our new little bundle of joy and scurried into the house. I put a big pot on the stove for the hot chocolate and husband put a log in the fireplace to start a warm glow. With Miss Chloe in her slippers and toddling around the living room, we waited for our big babies to come inside.

That night, we all sat around the fireplace and laughed and joked about snow days, snowball battles, and winter. We were all young again. We had seen the winter weather’s miracle through a child’s eyes and it was a blast!

I plan this year to continue to look at life through a child’s eyes; to find pleasure in the simplest of things, and to laugh. I invite you to do the same. Happy New Year!

Where A Kid Can Be A Kid

We’ve had a new baby in our lives this past year, my beautiful granddaughter, Chloe, and I have noticed how her presence has managed to bring out the child in all of us.

With the family at home for the holidays, we planned a first birthday celebration for Chloe at Chuck E. Cheese, “where a kid can be a kid.” When I mentioned the party to my twenty-six year old son, he groaned “Really, mother. Do we have to?,” I knew that I had my work cut out for me.

But the work was not so difficult. We arrived at this fine dining establishment to be greeted by a cheerfully decorated table, complete with balloons and party accessories. What caught the eye of all of the big kids were the cups of tokens at each place setting. My son was the first to ask if he could take just a few and play some games. Soon the table was empty of guests. All of my adult babies had headed off to the skee ball lanes and the football toss.

My husband had scooped up Miss Chloe and had taken her off to ride some of the rides. Since I was all alone at the table, I grabbed a few tokens and headed off myself! Some time later, we all re-grouped at the table to gaze at the pile of prize tickets we had won. Of course, the boys were comparing whose pile was the biggest!

After munching on some pizza, we were visited by Mr. Cheese himself. Chloe was the most mesmerized by this special visit, but the adults enjoyed it just the same. We sang and danced, and clapped and laughed. We feasted on Sesame Street cupcakes and fruit punch before heading back to use the remaining tokens.

The party ended with the gift opening and some more singing and laughing. We gathered up all of the goods and headed out towards the exit, stopping only at the counter to exchange the pile of tickets for some Chloe toys. I hugged my little granddaughter and told her that I was very sorry that I could not celebrate with her in the Netherlands on her actual party. My son-in-law turned to me and said, “Oh, but this celebration was so much more fun!”

And then we left Chuck E. Cheese’s smiling and laughing, reliving a child’s birthday party and having a blast. There was a little kid in each one of us that afternoon…it is a place were even adults can be a kid.

I plan this year to continue to look at life through a child’s eyes; to find pleasure in the simplest of things, and to laugh. I invite you to do the same. Happy New Year!