Everything I need to know I learned in Kindergarten

That was the title of a popular book in the late 1980s.  I had the poster on the wall of my dorm room.

I'm not sure if it is because I'm getting older or because we just graduated our oldest daughter this week, but I've been a bit nostalgic these days.  For today's Saturday project, I tackled one of my closets that has been neglected for a long time.  When we moved into our house 6 years ago, the last bits and pieces from my childhood that remained at my mom's house were boxed up and shipped to me in Utah.  I've opened the boxes a few times....then promptly closed them because I was overwhelmed by the amount of work it would take to go through those boxes.  Today, I tackled the job head on.

I wasn't too terribly surprised by the contents of the boxes.  I had packed them myself.  I was surprised by the stuff that I had held on to over the years.  I graduated from college 20 years ago, and I found all of the ballots from my college speech tournaments (or several of them).  Why did I ever hang on to that stuff?  I also found almost ALL of my exams from my undergraduate political science courses.  Again, who keeps that stuff?  Apparently, I'm three steps way from being a guest star on "Hoarders."

Then I got to the "good stuff."  I'm a sucker for kid art, and I knew that deep in the dark corners of these obnoxiously large boxes were some art projects dating back to my Kindergarten years.  My mom had seemingly kept almost everything from that first year.  As I was admiring my handiwork, I found the Kindergarten handbook for Millington East Elementary School.  I attended Kindergarten in Millington, Tennessee where my dad was stationed in the Navy.  For those who aren't aware, it is not far from Memphis.

If I had seen this document before, I wasn't aware of it.  I remember many things about Kindergarten.  I know that might be difficult to believe, but it is true.  I actually remember my very first day of school.  I went with my parents and met my teacher with a small group of kids....I think there were four or five of us in the group.  We got to play on the playground equipment.  I remember that I had a locker at school.  I remember doing crafts...lots of crafts.  I remember learning how to read.  I remember that we had nap time.  Most of all, I remember my teacher:  Mrs. Carter.

Over the years, I have wondered about her.  She was a young teacher in 1975.  Last year when Dean and I took the kids to Memphis, we drove out to Millington to get some Steak and Shake.  I had programmed the GPS to head to the the elementary school, but by the time we managed to get out of the restaurant, it was too dark to drive by.  There is not a year of my life that has gone by that I haven't had fond thoughts of Mrs. Carter.  Now that I have children of my own, I appreciate teachers more than I ever thought possible...and I already had great respect and admiration for my own teachers.  I cried when Dominique was done with elementary school, and I'm sure I'll cry when she's done with middle school next year.  Those young years are so important, and the teachers that we have are such an important part of our lives in so many ways.

I had randomly googled Mrs. Carter over the years, but I was at a disadvantage because I didn't know her first name.  Then, wouldn't you know!  In the Parent's Handbook...on the very last page....there it was!

Ginger Huffman Carter.  It took me about three minutes of searching online to track her down.  It was a long shot that she'd be home in the middle of the afternoon on a Saturday, but without a real plan, I picked up the phone and called.  Wouldn't you know that she answered the phone!  I was so glad that she did!  I told her that I was one of her students from 1975, and I thanked her for being my teacher.  I meant it, too!  If it weren't for hard working and dedicated public school teachers, I wouldn't be the person that I am today.  It all starts in Kindergarten.

This is me on my very first day of school with my Raggedy Ann and Andy lunch pail (with thermos, I might add).  I would never let my own kids out of the house with a dress that short, but I am pretty sure it was cool back then.  Those knee socks?  One of my trademarks.  What color is that fridge....I'm going to call it "tract house brown."  That's my little sis in the chair at the table.  My parents also lost their minds and let me walk to school all by myself.  It wasn't that far, but if I remember correctly, it was across a big field.  It definitely would not meet the standards for "safe walking routes" by today's regulations.  But...just like all kids in the 1970s, I managed just fine.

This is my "official" school pic.  The yellowing at the top and bottom is from age....37 years will do that to a picture!  See the liberty bell that I'm holding, that's because it was the Bi-Centennial Year!  We put on an amazing American EXTRAVAGANZA performance.  I still remember all of the songs.  I was becoming politically socialized at a very young age.  Patriotism is learned, and I think I received my "booster shot" of it in Kindergarten!  We sang, "You're a Grand old Flag," "Yankee Doodle," and "Davey Crockett.  There is a line in Davey Crockett that goes, "Kilt him a bar' when he was only three."  I remember one of the teachers asked the children, "Does anyone know what a 'bar' is" (referencing the song)?  One young boy responded that it was where his dad went to get away from his mom.  The teachers laughed and laughed and laughed.  Then then explained that it was a "bear."

We sang "Home on the Range" and "This Land is Your Land."  I'm telling you, this performance was a BIG deal!  I searched all night for my pictures from that night.  We met in the classroom before the performance, and my mom took pictures of me and Mrs. Carter.  I know that I'll find it as soon as I stop looking for it.  I did find one picture from that night, though.

That is Mrs. Carter on the stairs.  I'm the cowgirl that is in the top row, far right.  I fell of the risers that night because I didn't wear the shoes my mom told me to.  (I told you I remember a lot from Kindergarten!) 

Two more stories, then I'll end this post.  I remember one time we were in gym class, and there was a boy misbehaving.  Mrs. Carter whacked his bottom with a ruler.  (Trust me, the kid deserved it!)  Then, he stuck his behind out further and said, "It didn't hurt."  Well, let's just say, I'm pretty sure it hurt when she got done with him.  :-)

There was one time that we were making this project where you stepped in a bucket of paint then walked along butcher board paper.  I remember his boy...who was standing in the paint said, "I have to pee."  And then he did....in the paint.

Why do we remember some of the things we do, I'll never know.

To Mrs. Carter, thank you again!  I called you today because I wanted you to know that you made a difference.  I may be just one of thousands of young people that you've taught over the years, but you were important to me!  When I went to first grade in Illinois, I was much more advanced than the other members of the class.  My reading skills were far superior to the other first graders, so my teacher would have me read out loud to the class.  I did very well in school...elementary, through middle school and through high school.  I received several academic scholarships and was able to attend Bradley University, a private school in Peoria, Illinois.  I have had a very rewarding career working for a technology company, and my career has afforded me the opportunity to travel the world!  I'm a step mom to four great kids, and I have an amazingly smart granddaughter.  I went on to receive my masters in political science from Virginia Tech, and three years ago at the age of 39, I decided to take on the PhD.  I plan to graduate from the University of Utah when I'm 45.  I love to learn, and I plan to do so for the rest of my life!

Teachers don't always get to see the fruits of their labors.  I just wanted you to know that I am happy, and I've had a very good life.

Thank you for being my Kindergarten teacher!


xoxoxo,

Wendy Danley Davis

Softball Season

Elle just finished her 2nd season of Softball playing for the Jordan High School Lady Beetdiggers (yes, beetdiggers). 

Elle is a great hitter! 

 She played 3rd Base this season.

The Diggers beat Alta (their arch rival) earlier this week but failed to make the playoffs after a loss on Thursday.  Elle had a good season, but she hurt her knee and was out for the past several weeks.  She's looking forward to two more years of softball!

We're very proud of her!

"My baby"

I do most of my posting about my granddaughter, Layla, on Facebook.  Today, I wanted to write a post about her for my blog.  See this picture here?  This pretty much sums up how much I love this baby girl.  Her smile is so infectious that It is impossible to not smile back.  This picture was taken last week on my birthday. 

This series of pictures was taken on Sunday in our front yard.  It was an unseasonably warm day in March, and we all were outside (some without shoes) to enjoy the warm day.

 She's a good crawler...and she'll be walking in no time!

"Come to grandma!"  I'm the one pointing the big camera in her direction. Seriously, what is not to LOVE about that face?

 

Then there is this picture....her mom sent it to me last week.  The picture on the wall is of Layla when she was just a day old.  It is Elise's favorite picture, so I had it made into a canvas print for her for Christmas.  There is Layla in her crib waving at her younger self.  Elise says that she always gets so excited when she looks at the picture...that she jumps up and down.  All I have to say is that this child also likes looking at herself in a mirror or reflective surface (so does her dad, by the way).

There you have it.  Shameless grandma bragging about her cute little granddaughter, Layla Rae Davis.

100 Years Ago Today-This is for you Grandpa Danley

On March 21, 1912, my grandpa was born.  His name was Eugene Howard Danley.  He was born in Springfield, Illinois, and as he wrote in his life history, "just a few blocks from the home of Abe Lincoln, the finest President this country ever had and I'm proud to have come from that vicinity!"

My grandfather wasn't a perfect person.  By accounts of living relatives he sometimes had a temper.  He could be a cantankerous man...difficult to get along with at times. (I think I inherited that genetic attribute.) Some have even said that he felt that he'd been given a raw deal in life.  I wish he had lived long enough to see his children grow old and his grandchildren grow into adulthood.  Gene had a hard life, and he might not have realized what he would call personal success in his own life.  But he has a progeny that he would most certainly be proud of.

1912.  Wow.  In that year, the modern day Republic of China is established ending nearly three centuries of reign by the Manchu Dynasty.  1912 was also the year that the Japanese gifted the famous cherry blossom trees to our nation's capitol.  This was the year that the Titanic struck ice in the North Atlantic and resulted in the worst maritime tragedy in history.

Gene worked a variety of jobs in his life.  At a young age, he sold newspapers for the Peoria Journal and the Peoria Star (now the Journal Star).  He never completed schooling past elementary school, but he learned skills as he went through his life.  He drove a taxi cab in Peoria for many years, and he tells his stories in a memoir that you can read HERE.  He entered the US Army and while in basic training, he was injured.



According to my Aunt Judy, there was a man at basic who open fired on soldiers, and my grandpa was instrumental in stopping him.  In the process, he was also shot.  He was honorably discharged from the military and received his veterans benefits for the remainder of his life.  I heard this story for the first time just this past summer.  Oh, how I wished that I could talk to him about his experiences in his life. 

On my grandpa's 58th birthday, I was born.  I have the distinct honor of sharing his birthday...March 21st...the first day of spring.  One time when I was little...maybe 7 or 8, I remember that I sat in my grandpa's lap on my birthday, and he told me that I was his special granddaughter because I was born on his birthday.  I honestly still remember that.  It was one of the few times that I remember him addressing me directly.  I know that sounds weird.  He talked to me...don't get me wrong, but I remember this time as being particularly special.

This is a picture of a cake that my Aunt Donna made for a joint birthday party for me and grandpa. This summer, I was looking at this picture with some of my aunts and uncles, and there was a disagreement over whether this cake was for me or grandpa.  My aunt actually had me convinced that it was my grandpa's cake...until my Uncle Bill said, "And what day is YOUR birthday?"  (meaning mine).  Man, did I feel silly.  I just assumed that Aunt Donna was right...because she usually is ;-)

Here is a picture of that same birthday.  That is me in my 70s garb and unattractive hairdo.  My sister is to my right and my cousin Billy is to my left.  My grandma is standing behind me.  That is dad and Kathy by Grandma...and way in the back...peeking in on the action from the chair...is Grandpa Danley.

The little girl and fisher man cake theme reminded me of one of my favorite pictures of me and my grandpa.  My dad drug me along this day on a fishing outing with his dad.  I LOVED to go fishing as a little girl. I mean I really loved it, and I have good memories of fishing with my dad.  This picture cracks me up...me in my patent leather shoes...in a life jacket (probably at my mom's insistence) as we are fishing off of what looks like a country road "overpass."  Makes me smile every time I see it.    

You know what other picture makes me smile? This one.  He looks happy hanging out with me on the floor.

It reminds me of another grandpa I know who loves to hang out with his granddaughter while she plays on the floor. 

This picture is how I remember my grandpa...always sitting at the kitchen table..always playing Pinochle.  He loved to play cards, and he HATED to lose.  When grandpa was playing, I knew better than to bug him.  Every once in a while, he'd let me sit on his lap and touch the cards for luck, but I soon grew bored of this task.  I learned to play Pinochle when I was probably 13 or 14 years old, and I really do enjoy it immensely.  It is a Danley Family tradition.  Seated in this picture are my grandparents, my dad (with the sideburns ;o) and my Aunt Wilda..who I adore.

I can't believe that grandpa would have been 100 years old today.  He died on March 30, 1981.  I had just turned 11, and he had just turned 69.  I wish that he lived long enough to know that this granddaughter born on his birthday turned into a happy and successful woman.  Because of him, there are hundreds of descendants who are linked to the Danley name.  Every one of them I know has honored that name...each in his or her own unique way.  I am hopeful that when we all re-connect in the next life that he'll smile with pride and see how his children, his grandchildren, his great grandchildren and his great-great grandchildren have lived good lives in large part because of a trail that he blazed...as rugged and jagged and sometimes troubled as that trail might have been.

I love you, Grandpa.  I'm proud to be your granddaughter!  

Heart and Soul: Appreciating Fine Art and Artists

Tonight Dean and I visited the art studio of our friend, Jeff Hein. Click >> here<<  to see his website.  We met Jeff and his wife, Jen when we were first married and lived downtown.  We were all in the same LDS Ward (congregation).  Jeff taught our Sunday School class, and I gained a lot of respect for him while I listened and participated in those classes.  When I learned that Jeff was an artist, I didn't necessarily have more respect for him, but it was different.  You wouldn't know that he's a phenomenal talent.  He's super cool and way chill about the whole thing.

I have always been a fan of fine art; I think my time in Europe helped my appreciation grow.  You don't get much exposure to fine art in Pekin, Illinois.  One of my favorite places in Chicago is the Art Institute---where I could stare for hours at the impressionist artwork.  I saw a Van Gough exhibit that the Metropolitan Museum of Art with my friend Steve in 1999.  I have been to the Salvador Dali Museum in St. Petersburg, FL.  Dali is not necessarily fine art, but viewing his pieces really opened my mind.  I saw a Picasso exhibit in Hungary, and that caused me to wonder if I was missing a few boobs on my own torso....Picasso loves his boobs.  And in a completely inappropriate segue, I've been to the Vatican museum to see all of the emasculated marble, male statues.  I've seen the Sistine Chapel with my own eyes.

I know I'm biased, but I've got to tell you that I hold Jeff in regard with the masters with respect to his talent.  I have a copy of one of Jeff's paintings on the wall in my office, and I look at it every single day.  The painting tonight was one of Christ.  It was commissioned for the LDS Temple in Boise, Idaho.  It was brilliant!  It will bring people a lot of joy.  He is working on two other commissioned pieces for the Honduras Temple, and I hope to see those when they are complete, too. 

You know what I appreciate most about Jeff?  When Bradley was 12 years old, he was going through some really rough times.  Jeff, at that time, had an art class that he offered on Thursday nights.  Bradley had expressed some interest in art, and I thought that if he could have some structure that he could explore his talent...and learn from Jeff.  Jeff had never allowed a child that young to join his class, but he made an exception for Bradley.  I can't tell you how much I appreciate that. 

I wish that I could tell you that Bradley discovered a miraculous talent during his time at art class, but he didn't.  That's OK.  It was important to me and Dean to give him the opportunity to explore his talent.  Jeff was willing to give Bradley every opportunity that Bradley wanted to pursue, and I appreciate that.

When Bradley experienced some serious trouble as a young teen, Jeff was one of the people that I called.  I wanted him to know what was going on with Bradley so that he could be a positive influence.  I am a big believer that "it takes a village," and Dean and I decided that Bradley's troubles were beyond our capacity as parents...we couldn't manage them alone.  We enlisted several trusted adults in Bradley's life with whom to share his struggles so that he would have a support group.

Tonight when I walked into Jeff's studio (and I haven't seen him in many years), I said, "Hi Jeff, Wendy Davis..." He said, "I can't believe you just introduced yourself.  I know who you are!"  Well, ya know...he's kind of a big deal, and he kind of had some star-struck fans there....and I didn't want to assume.  It didn't surprise me one bit that he inquired about Bradley right away.  I can't tell you how much I appreciate that.

There are many qualities of great artists that the experts have debated for centuries.  I can tell you what makes Jeff one of my very favorite artist....more than anything...it is the person he is and how he represents that in his art.  And I seriously appreciate how he was important in Bradley's life at a crucial time.

My Life Watching Politics on Television

As I sit down tonight to watch the State of the Union Address, I was thinking of all of the past presidents I have watched on TV in my 42 years.

My very first presidential TV moment was in 1977.  I was in first grade at Homewood Heights Elementary School in Creve Coeur, Illinois.  My first grade teacher was Mrs. Kluge.  In January 1977, the first grade teachers gathered all of us into one of the little classrooms, rolled in a big TV, and had a group of 6 and 7 year olds watch the Inauguration of President Jimmy Carter.  It seem boring and torturous at the time, but I remember it.  I remember being excited that the president had a little girl, just like me.  So, at the age of 6, I remember my first moment with politics and TV.

I remember March 30, 1981.  As I left my 5th grade classroom at Willow Elementary School in Pekin, Illinois, the parent of one of my classmates sent the child back in to the school to tell Mr. Muren that the "president had been shot."  I spent that entire day glued to the TV at my babysitter's home watching the coverage.  I remember Alexander Haig (and yes, I actually remember this) saying, "I am in control here."  To get out of the 5th grade, I had to pass an Illinois State Constitution test and a US Constitution test.  I had the most amazing 5th grade teacher on the planet, and I knew that Alexander Haig was not one of the people we had discussed when we talked about presidential succession. 

I remember President Reagan addressing the nation on January 28, 1986 on the evening of the Space Shuttle disaster.  He seemed like a grandfather to me (and he was older than my own grandfather who, ironically, died on the day of the Reagan assassination attempt).  I somehow felt better when Reagan spoke.  I can see why people have fond memories of him.  Memories are funny, though.  The Teflon President still seems to have few bad things associated to him.  I won't badger him on this post, but perception and reality are quite different.

I was at a school in Texas during Reagan's funeral.  At my request, we paused the demonstration for about 45 minutes and watched the funeral live.  What can I say?  I'm an American first and a Democrat second.  He was the president during my growing up years, and there is a soft spot in my heart for "Uncle Ron."  I call all of the president's "Uncle."  Don't try and understand it.  It's a Wendy thing.

I have to tell you, I think I skipped both Nixon's and Ford's funerals.  Back to TV memories....

My Clinton memory is not the one you may be thinking of (the "I did not have sex with that woman" memory).  1988 was the first year I could vote.  The summer between my senior year in high school and my first year at Bradley University, I lived with my aunt and uncle in Arkansas.  I worked my last summer at the famous family Donut Shop.  I had a lot of time on my hands that summer, so I took it upon myself to watch the Democratic National Convention.  That was the first Clinton speech that I ever heard, and I remember it.  I actually remember thinking, "He might be president someday."

My dad told me this past summer that I had actually heard Clinton speak a few years before the DNC convention in 1988.  I spent most of my summers in Hot Springs, Arkansas with my dad, and one year on the 4th of July, he took us to see the fireworks that were....wait for it....at the Wal-Mart parking lot.  Clinton (according to Dad) spoke at that event.  I can't make this crap up....Clinton, Wal-Mart...parking lot.  I probably don't remember that because I was so traumatized by the falling firework debris that was LANDING ON SPECTATORS! 

I also remember watching TV the day Clinton left office.  I have to admit, I cried a bit.  Interpret that however you will.

You notice I skipped 41?  I have no powerful memories of George H.W. Bush.  I have more memories of Dana Carvey's portrayal of Bush than Bush himself.  I liked 41; I actually thought he was an OK President.  As I sit here thinking about why I have few memories of watching 41 on TV, it probably was because his tenure as president coincided with the four years that I was in college.  Quite simply, we didn't have a TV in our dorm room.  We had one in the TV lounge, but I didn't do too much TV watching in college.  Honestly, it probably has more to do with accessibility to a TV than anything else. 

George W. Bush.  Oh, he was not the orator.  In fact, watching Bush speak made me terribly uncomfortable.  My most memorable TV moment with Bush was during the State of the Union in 2003.  I was traveling that day, and I was in the Delta Connection Terminal at the Cincinnati Airport.  I stood close to one of those TVs mounted from the ceiling and listened to the SOU.  I will never forget hearing the famous "16 Words,":  "The British government has learned that Saddam Hussein recently sought significant quantities of uranium from Africa."  I think I said (in my out loud voice), "What the F---?"  My gut told me that it wasn't true.  I knew that there was NO WAY that this info was making its public debut in the State of the Union.  I would like to say thank you to George Bush for putting a fire in me that propelled me all the way through the completion of my thesis.  I spent a year of my life writing about why the US invaded Iraq in 2003.  We now know that those 16 words were unsubstantiated and false, but back when I was writing my thesis, people still believed.

That is all I have to say about Bush...because I'm trying to be kind (-ish).

Obama.  I have a few TV memories of Obama.  I remember when he teared up at the DNC when he talked about his grandmother who recently passed away.  I was alone in my hotel room in Portland, Oregon in 2008 when he was named the president-elect.  I cried and cried and cried as he gave his speech in Chicago.  I was so hopeful.  I watched the Obama Inauguration with ALL of my kids; they happened to have the day off of school.  The PEOPLE....so many people in Washington, D.C.  I will never, ever forget that.

I'm grateful for all of my presidents in one way or another.  I'm also grateful for the technology of television that brings my president right into my living room, my office, an airport TV, my first grade classroom....

Here's looking forward to 42 more year of presidential TV memories....

Been a bit busy...

This year has been so, so, so, so, so busy!  I've neglected my blogging.  I've neglected my digital scrapbooking.  I've neglected my family.  I've neglected my home.  So, what have I been doing?

Well....as part of the requirements for the University of Utah Graduate School, I had to take two consecutive semesters of full time coursework.  So, in Spring and Fall, I was full time in the PhD program.  It was three classes a semester...which doesn't sound like a lot, but at the PhD level, it is a ton of work.  I learned a lot, and I survived.  I'm done with that now, and I look forward to getting back to a bit more of a "normal" schedule for this year.

I'm taking one course in the spring, and trust me, that will seem like a cake walk after this past semester.  For those who want to know "how much longer I have," that is a difficult question to answer.  It's not like being an undergrad where you have 124 hours to complete and a relatively regimented curriculum.  In a PhD program, you must complete your coursework (5 more classes to go for those who are counting).  You then must study for, take and pass your comprehensive exams.  I will study for several months.  After that, I have to write a dissertation proposal and finish my research and writing for my dissertation.  That is the great unknown...depending on the research topic.  So, I'm shooting for 2015 or 2016.  I know that seems like forever, but it's not.

I have a wonderful job that is always throwing me new challenges and opportunities.  I have three teens still at home.  I have a lovely grandbaby.  I have a lot to keep me busy in addition to the PhD work.

Did I mention that I am on three volunteer boards (like I don't have enough to do!)  I was honored to be asked to sit on the Alumni Board of Directors for my alma mater, Bradley University.  This requires regular travel back to Illinois for board meetings.  The board is a wonderful group of people who really care about the university, and it's a great honor to be a part of it!  I also work with my local PTA...one of my favorite, favorite jobs in the whole world.  I'm also on our Council level PTA (one level up from local).  This is more administrative than anything else, and all in all, it doesn't take too much time.  My season heats up with PTA next month because I'm the Legislative VP and our legislature meets for 10 crazy weeks starting in January.  I'm amazed at how accessible our state legislators are.  I'm sure there is more to come on that front.

My husband and kids have tolerated me this past year.  Let's just say that sometimes I don't manage stress well.  I researched and wrote SO MUCH this year.  I haven't added them up yet, but I know that I cranked out well over a hundred pages (probably closer to 150 pages) of original work.  That is a lot.

In addition to my academic, volunteer and work stuff...we had a new grandbaby born.  We took a major family vacation to Arkansas and Tennessee (WAY FUN!), Dean and I went to Jamaica for my dear friend's wedding, Dean and the kids went on a road trip to New Mexico. Dean's grandpa passed away.  Dean's mom was diagnosed with breast cancer and has been battling that.  Dean was released from the bishopric.

Yes, we have been busy.  But through it all, we are so very, very blessed.  We know the origin of all our blessings is our God!  We are so thankful for our temporal and spiritual blessings!  We're looking forward to a blessed new year!

What Thanksgiving is All About

I don't want this post be sound self-aggrandizing because that is not my intent.  I had an idea, I sold some people on the idea, and a whole bunch of people executed on the idea.  So, although I had the idea....I don't take credit for the success of this project.

After I went to the Utah PTA Convention this year, I talked to my friend, Stephanie, who is the President about how we should start a student association.  In the middle and high schools, PTA can be a PTSA.  She agreed, and we went to work.  I'm not going to lie...this project has taken more thought and time than I imagined that it would.  But because Stephanie is so passionate about it, it's been very successful.

Each month we've had an after school  meeting for our students, and we have about 40 kids attend each time.

For the month of November, I thought we should do a service project.  We talked about different options.  We thought we could get a bus and take kids to work at the Utah Food Bank.  We looked into group service opportunities through United Way.  Then I suggest that we have a food drive....but not just any food drive.  At Mount Jordan Middle School in Sandy, Utah, we have almost 50% of our students on reduced or free lunch.  This measure is significant because it is related to parents' income.  We have some families in need, and we didn't have to look too far to find who had the greatest need.

So, here was what we did.  We worked with administrators to identify 10 families in our school who were in need.  Our Vice Principal, Matt Watts, was a ROCK STAR!  He placed countless calls and relentlessly tracked people down.  We wanted people to 1) agree to accept the donation; and 2) agree to pick it up at the school at a designated time.  We didn't want the PTA moms to know anything about the families in need.  We'd considered delivering the food in person, but working through the administrators provided privacy and confidentiality for the families.   Matt was calling people all the way up until the day of, and I know that he stayed at the school until 6:00 PM on Tuesday when the last packet was picked up.

On Monday, November 14th, we had an assembly, and we "kicked off" our food drive.  The homeroom classes had a competition (which made it more fun).  In 5 short days of donating, we had enough food to feed 11 families (our final count).  We got private donations for pies, turkeys, potatoes and rolls.

On Tuesday (the last day of school before the break), we got our PTSA kids to stay AFTER school.  We sorted food, decorated boxes, filled the boxes and put a craft project (made by the kids) and nice plastic silverware (with a homemade napkin holder) in the boxes.  We also made sure that each family had a roasting pan, some Stove Top and gravy. 

I was blown away by the support.  The PTA moms showed up in full force to sort food and manage certain groups of kids.  Countless students and teachers donated food.  Based on personal calls from Stephanie, we had 11 turkeys donated.  And the best thing....the kids really love doing this kind of thing.  In fact, when we asked them the kind of things that they wanted to do, they mentioned that they WANTED to do a service project....WANTED.  These are 7th, 8th and 9th graders.  Can I tell you how happy that makes me!

In my political behavior class, we've read literature on political socialization, political participation and involvement.  You know, I firmly believe that kids WANT to help.  They just have to be given an opportunity to do so.  I talked with Dominique a few times about how this food was staying in our Mount Jordan family....for those who really needed it.  She got the significance of that.  There is absolutely nothing wrong with a donation to the Utah Food Bank.  However, I think when the kids know that their efforts are benefiting people they know (even though they don't know who), it means more to them.

In all of the things that I've done and been a part of, I'm really proud of this Student Association that we've started in our PTSA.  We are inclusive...no requirement to get in (except annual dues, and we have scholarships for those who can't afford the $4.00).  We respect the kids and their ideas.  When we ask them how they want THEIR organization to be, and we are amazed at the great ideas they have!  We should all give our kids more credit!  Who knows how these experiences might influence a kid at a later time in life.  I firmly believe that we have to model the behavior for them or they won't know how to participate in meaningful ways.  Sure, they get this in their families and churches, but they spend MOST of their waking hours during the week at their school.  It is here where they can make a difference and where, I believe, they want to make a difference.

Happy Thanksgiving, Everyone!!!!

Oh, how I loved the 2002 Salt Lake City Olympics

In a few short months, we will be celebrating the TEN YEAR ANNIVERSARY of the Olympics in SLC.  What an AMAZING time! I was never so proud to be from Salt Lake City as I was during the Olympics.  We really got that one right!  I lived downtown in SLC at the time...I mean right in the thick of things, and it was awesome.

I remember that I got back from a trip one night, and as I was driving home, I thought, "Why is everyone waiting for the bus this late at night?"  They weren't waiting for the bus....they were waiting for the Olympic torch to pass by.  I high tailed it home, dumped off my luggage and ran out the front door of my apartment complex.  I stood with my neighbors and cheered as a runner ran on MY street.  Amazing! 

I have so many wonderful, wonderful memories of the 2002 Olympics.  My office is a mini-shrine to those games.  I have a big picture of downtown all decked out, some commemorative photos of winter sports taken in historic Utah geological landmarks and an abstract picture that was part of the arts displays.  People who haven't experienced an Olympics first hand might not even be aware of the arts movement that is part of the Olympics.

On Monday, our local middle school kicked off our "Student Success Week."  We do this every year, and it's is such an important program to our PTA.  We try to educate our 12, 13 and 14 year olds about their options for college and careers.  This program is run by one of our most passionate and dedicated PTA moms.  This year, we were able to get Olympic Gold Medalist, Derek Parra, to speak to our middle school students.

Most of them were too young to remember the games, but his story was one that is timeless and relevant to all age groups.  I really can't do his story justice, so if you have a few minutes, click>> here<< to read about his life.  What was relevant to our school's demographic was this....Derek grew up poor.  His parents were divorced.  He is a Mexican-American (his self-description).  Right there, this describes a large part of our student body.  He grew up at the rollerskating rink trying to pinch pennies to buy a snack after he paid for his admission and rental...again....most of the kids at our middle school have frequented our local roller rink.  They love it!  It's kind of a dive, but who cares! 

He talked about growing up with his dad and his brother and not having sports equipment and having to "make due" with what they could come up with.  He talks about eating Mac 'n Cheese. 

When he was 17, he moved to Florida to train with a real skating coach.  He paid room and board and quickly learned the ways of life.  His coach was not going to give him a free ride.  He had to pay rent, pay for his own food...and ride everywhere on his bicycle.  He found out on day 1 that the practice facility was 32 miles away.  He found out shortly thereafter that he had to get a J-O-B...so he did at McDonald's.  He had no money during the first two weeks that he waited for his paycheck, so he ate the "aged out" sandwiches out of the garbage.

His story, however, is not one of sadness.  It is one of hope and perseverance.  He told the kids that he has only "won" a couple of times in his life but that his failures taught him so much.

 In 2002, the world watched as he broke the record in the Men's 1500 Speed Skating event.  The world smiled and cried as he jumped up and down on the podium and received his Gold medal.  Derek is a great patriot, and he spoke openly about his experiences with 9/11 and his patriotic feelings about being an Olympian, winning the Gold medal and singing...with great pride...the National Anthem.

 I cried at the assembly.  I'm guessing (although I don't know for sure) that some teachers probably did to.  He is such a NICE guy.  Honestly, we chatted it up before the assembly, and he was totally normal and approachable.  He let the kids HANDLE his Olympic medals:  one Silver and one Gold. He showed the video of his winning race, and the kids all clapped and hooted for him.

Can I tell you how awesome it is to be part of a PTA organization that can bring these experiences to our kids!  How awesome it is to be a resident of Utah where I experienced that proverbial "once in a lifetime" Olympic Games in MY town.  How awesome it is to know that the spirit of the Olympics is alive and well and remembered.  And how awesome it is to know men like Derek Parra make a difference in the world.

Can we call her "Mom"?

Yesterday I was at a PTA meeting at the middle school, and our meeting ended about the same time school ended.  Dominique came into the teacher's lounge where we were meeting, and she must have called me by name.  One of the PTA ladies asked, "Your daughter calls you by your first name?"  I paused for a second (mainly because I hadn't heard her refer to me by name) and said, "Oh, yes, she is my step-daughter."  Honestly, I think that the woman thought I was a progressive mom having my kids call me by my first name, but that was not the case. 

All of my kids call me Wendy.  This is my preference.  When Dean and I married, the kids were ages 5, 7, 9 and 11.  Dominique and Elle both asked Dean, "Can we call her 'Mom'?"  Wow.  That question was an interesting one for me.  I had a step-mother (and still do), and I always called her by her first name.  To me, the title of Mom is somehow special and sacred.  I know that may sound silly, but I only had one mom, and Kathy was my step-mom.

So, when the girls asked if they could call me mom, out of deference to their mother, I said that I thought they should call me Wendy.  It works out well for us, and I think it is the right thing to do.  I'm now "Grandma Wendy" to little Layla, and I have my kids call my mom "Grandma Rosemary" (mainly because they have a bunch of grandparents.)  They call my dad "Grandpa Gene" and my step-mom "Grandma Kathy."

One time a few years ago, the kids' great-grandfather pulled me aside and said, "I really think you should have the kids call you "mom"."  He meant well.  His point was that I was "more of a mother to them than their birth mother ever was."  I know that.  They know that.  We don't need to go confusing everything by instituting title changes that would just complicate things.

If someone says, "Give this to your mom" or "will you tell your mom....," they don't correct that person and blurt out "She's my STEP-MOM."  However, when they introduce me to people (their friends, for instance) they will say, "This is my step-mom, Wendy."  I'm cool with all of that.  I go out of my way not to refer to myself (to them) as their "mom."  I refer to myself at their parent.

Why do I do this?  Well, part of it is because I know how much it would have hurt my mother to call another woman "mom."  Part of it is that I really love my own step-mother and didn't need to call her "mom" to have a great relationship with her.  Part of it is that out of deference for their mother, I think it is the right thing to do.  And if you know me, you know how little I think of their birth mother these days.  However, that doesn't diminish the fact that the *is* their biological mother and for a period in their lives *was* a great mom to them.

I've never felt that I needed to be validated with a title.  I know who I am to them.  I am their mom.

Angels All Around Us

I was up late tonight scanning some family pictures, and I came upon a few pictures from a trip that I made with my mom and my nephew to the Lincoln Memorial in Springfield, Illinois.

Wooohooo...look at that hair...and don't I look oh, so attractive in those jeans.  My nephew, Cory, is probably 11 or 12 in this picture...so that puts this at 8 or 9 years ago...definitely before I was married.  I was surprised that Cory had never been to the Lincoln's Tomb.  You touch his nose for good luck...which also means that a billion germs are on that schnoz. 

As we went into the actual tomb where Lincoln, Mary Todd and three of their children, I told Cory that you had to speak in a whisper out of respect for the dead.  He understood, and he was very respectful.  This is him with his serious face in front of a statute of Lincoln. 

As you can see from the top photo, there are grand staircases that allow you access to the top of the monument.  We climbed to the top of the stairs and while we were up there, Cory said, "Do you hear that Aunt Wendy?"

Me:  "Hear what?"
Cory: "Zoom, Zoom.  There are angels all around us right now.  Can't you hear them?"
Me: Silence.

You know, I didn't hear or feel the angels, but I firmly believe that he did.  The oddest thing was that he had never, ever said anything like that to me before under any circumstance.  Is there any doubt in my mind that there are angels that guard Lincoln's Tomb.  Not one whit or tittle of doubt.

Antelope Island

I have been wanting to take the girls to the Great Salt Lake for a long time.  I was 50/50 on whether or not I wanted to go this past weekend.  Then I found out that they were having a little festival out on the island, and that sealed the deal for me.  And bonus....they had a place to do horse-back riding.

This was our first glimpse of the bison.  

Then we found some closer to the road.

 Then they had to cross the road....

 Then we got to the ranch, and our guide (DJ) got our horses saddled up.  This is Dom's horse.  His name is Maverick because he was in the Mel Gibson movie with the same name.

This is Elle on Navajo.  He was in the movie Far and Away with Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman.

We took a 90 minute ride up the trail.  It took us a bit to get adjusted to our horses, but once the girls got the hang of it, it was just a lot of fun! 

I have about 15 pictures that look like this.  Can I tell you that the ride would have been much more enjoyable if I had not been lugging my big old camera.

This was the pinnacle (literally) of our ride.  It's difficult to tell, bu the view is really, really awesome.  When we went down the hill, DJ told Dom and Elle to lean back, and use the stirrups to balance and hold on to the reigns.  Dom was holding on for dear life, and he had the reigns too tight.  She said, "Why won't he go?"  I said, "Do you have the reigns pulled back so he thinks you should be stopped?"  She said, "Oh....that."

All along the way there were thousands and thousands of beautiful sunflowers.  It was SO picturesque!

After our ride, we went to the other side of the island and took pictures along the way.

And more bison....

And more sunflowers.....

Then we went to the Stampede Festival and ate some carb-loaded, fried food.  The girls really wanted to dip their toes in the Great Salt Lake.

On the way to "the beach," we saw a few of the balloons that flew that evening.  

This is one of my favorite pictures....

We got to the west side of the island as the sun was going down.  I haven't altered any of these pictures...

Here they are....as the sun is going down...in the Great Salt Lake.  They are probably about 1/4 mile away from where I'm standing.  

I love this picture.

I love living in Utah; it is so unbelievably beautiful!  This whole state is a testament to God's great creations!