Dare I say both? As I ponder about the past and my future, I seem to keep my feet planted somewhere in the middle. My thoughts play a gentle tug of war between yesterday and tomorrow.
As a storyteller and the keeper of family tales and adventures, I dig deep into the past. As I research, I lose myself in my ancestors’ stories. When their lives unfold, I marvel at their strength and persistence. This family line knows courage, overcoming obstacles that most could not even comprehend. The men and women in this family traveled to the New World and cleared a path in the wilderness. While many historical narratives often begin and end with men, I found remarkable women who blazoned their own trails and left a legacy of bold courage and undeniable tenacity. My grandmothers, my aunts, and my damsel cousins marched to their own beat. These spirited women unleashed the bounds that kept them tethered to a world where women lost their voices and freedoms. Often, I chuckle, as I discover their grit and their spunk. But it shouldn’t really surprise me, for, after all, the current female members carry that same DNA mettle. The women in this family lead with courage, compassion, and strength, and I am proud of my heritage.
As for tomorrow, I ponder all the new opportunities that await. As retirement closely looms, I wonder about my future. Will I ever finish my novel? Will I sub or teach humanities or creative writing at the community college? Will I explore the wonders of my home state? All those places I keep meaning “to get to one day.” I must admit it is exciting to know that some of the best days of my life are quietly waiting to unfold.
Well, for now, today’s demands harken. The laundry needs my attention and the bills need to be paid. And best of all the pups need some attention.
“A teacher’s job is to take a bunch of live wires and see that they are well-grounded.” –Darwin D. Martin
In my home state of Colorado, I have attended three colleges as I pursued my educational goals to become a teacher. In addition, I have taken so many additional courses during my career to keep up my teaching license. But most, I have enjoyed. I really do love learning!
At the age of thirty-three, I decided to follow my dream of becoming a teacher. I attended a community college that was housed in a former prep school for boys. My classes looked out over green pastures with mountain views. Having the local “residents” peer into our classrooms was not unusual. This former city girl enjoyed the locals who called the grassy field home, and I sometimes found it hard to concentrate on lectures, especially when I spotted a sweet-faced calf in the mix.
After receiving my degree, I transferred to a nearby university. It was an amazing journey, and I felt at home while working on my English degree. I met some incredible people and found my voice as I started my writing journey so long ago. It was one of the best decisions I made.
After teaching for the Department of Corrections for five years, I decided to find my way back to public schools and found a job as a sixth-grade language arts teacher. One year later, I enrolled in my graduate courses and received my master’s in culturally and linguistically diverse. The year I enrolled in my program, I discovered we had many students from other nations. We had students who spoke Russian, Chinese, Korean, Spanish, and a few Polish speakers too. The courses designed to help English language learners actually helped all of my students.
Now, as I move closer to retirement, I can honestly say that while teaching has been the most difficult job I have had, it has also been rewarding. I would do it all again.
“A teacher’s job is to take a bunch of live wires and see that they are well-grounded.” –Darwin D. Martin
Any time spent with my pups is playtime. No matter how exhausted or stressed, my Muttley Crew never fails to make me smile. I enjoy their silly antics and how they love to cuddle. Each has such a huge personality for one so tiny. And this lively pair has wiggled their way into my heart. I can’t imagine life without my tiny posse.
Lately, my biggest challenge has been mobility. I live with chronic pain after an accident. Not a day goes by that I don’t experience pain. This winter has been harsh, for the cold weather blasted me with an extra dose of discomfort. But even worse than the pain has been the isolation; it has been difficult to visit with family and friends, and after a long day at work, I am wiped out. The constant affliction wears me out.
So what do I do? I keep moving. Exercise helps, especially the warm therapy pool at the Y. I’ve started chair yoga; I love the stretches. On warm days, I enjoy sitting on the patio watching my pups play while I relax or listen to audiobooks. The sunshine and fresh air help, too. And I remind myself, often, that slowing down to take of myself is okay.
Driving to our “Happy Place,” my doxies yapped in excitement. Max kept “talking,” and shrieked with excitement, just like when he was a pup, and excited to go for a drive or a walk along the horse trails. Mitzi scooted to the back of the HHR, so she could find a better view and stared from her perch at the rolling countryside. Maybe the pair were feeding off my own energy, for I couldn’t wait to arrive at the cabin. It had been over a year since our last visit, and I needed some mountain time. I knew the fall colors would begin to peak this weekend, and I couldn’t wait to view the autumn colors in all their glory.
It’s a short drive from my home on the Colorado prairie to my favorite mountain hamlet in southeastern Colorado. As we left our home and headed east into town, the traffic crunch slowed us down just a tad as people made their way home from work. I had taken the day off from my teaching position, but I hadn’t planned on it when I booked the mountain cabin. The original plan was to leave work, pick up the pups, and our gear and make a run for it. But sometimes the best-laid plans do not always work out as expected. The weekend before our getaway, I caught a nasty bug. It was finals week too, so I knew it would be a busy week. I plowed through the week and worked some late hours, so I would be able to have my grades ready and posted before leaving for a long weekend. Still, my sore throat and cough continued, and by Wednesday evening I knew that it had turned into a sinus infection. I had a fever, and I was supposed to run away for the weekend.
It was too late to cancel since my reservation began the next evening. Instead, I called the virtual doc that my health care covered. She sent antibiotics and an inhaler to my local pharmacy, but I couldn’t pick them up until the next day. Picking up my cell, I dialed the school’s sub-finder and sent a silent prayer that one would be found. After sending a message to the principal, I crawled into bed and the pups acted as tiny bed warmers. Soon, I was fast asleep.
The next morning I was up before the alarm, and I quickly tweaked my lessons to make them sub-teacher-friendly. After brushing my teeth and running a brush through my hair, I tugged on a faded pair of jeans and a soft lavender T-shirt. As I walked out of my bedroom, Mitzi waited in her usual spot on top of the overstuffed armchair. She always wanted one more cuddle before I headed out the door.
Hurrying into the kitchen, I grabbed my keys and headed to the school. I needed to make last-minute preparations before the sub arrived. Running into coworkers they scolded me for being at school and told me to go home and rest. Afterward, I wondered how my trip would be now that I felt so awful.
Driving home, I thought about my plans. I had planned on visiting one of the mountain parks, and although hiking was out, I had planned on a picnic and a short walk to enjoy some fresh air. But I would still be able to lounge on the front porch, drink my caramel pumpkin spice coffee, and watch my Muttley crew run around the pine forest in the front yard. Once I arrived home, I loaded up the car and waited for the pharmacy text, to alert that my antibiotics and sinus meds were ready. While I waited, I took a nap and rested.
Later that afternoon after picking up my prescriptions from the pharm, the pups and I loaded up and headed to the mountains. Although I felt extra tired, I couldn’t wait to arrive. It turned out to be the perfect remedy. During the frosty mornings, I sat by the fire while listening to audiobooks or writing, and sipped on vanilla chai tea. And of course, I always had a pup or two snuggled with me. The fire chased away the chill and I felt warm and cozy propped up in the recliner with a quilt over my lap. glancing out the windows, the sun peeked through the large ponderosa pines and aspen trees glowed in shades of yellow and gold. I sighed with contentment.
In the afternoons when the temps climbed, the pups and I headed to the backyard. In the warmth of the sun, I enjoyed the quiet and the sounds of birds that flitted about. Max explored the area and spent hours watching a spot by the cabin. His hunting instincts were in overdrive, and I was sure some little critter had made a nest under the crawlspace. Mitzi slowly roamed checking out the sites and smells, but always made her way back. She was a mama’s girl who stayed close by my side.
Enjoying the outdoors, I lapped up the sunshine. While sitting in the sun, I listened to my audiobook. I found a new author over a month ago. Last year during the Halloween season, I enjoyed listening to Alice Hoffman’s Practical Magic Series. This year, I wanted to find another book about magical realism and stumbled across Heather Blakes’s series Witchcraft Mysteries. I’m hooked. Yesterday I finished A Witch Before Dying and started the third book, The Good, the Bad, and the Witchy. It’s safe to say that I have loved my mountain time even though I have been lazy, and even though I have sniffled my way through this long weekend.
Every evening about an hour before the sun set, my crew and I headed to the front porch. The pups scurried about the yard, and I quietly enjoyed watching the last light of the day as it beamed through the ponderosas. Across the road in a grassy field, aspens shimmered. Above the field, the sun reflected a soft light on the Wet Mountains. Pines shadowed the mountain peak, and hazy lines of ridges and spires and trees made a breathtaking silhouette against the cloudless blue skies.
Each evening, I deeply breathed in the clean mountain air and wished my time did not have to end. This time before the sun shifted behind the peaks was magical. The soft light danced in the yard between the large pines. It was breathtaking. Every evening at this time, the wild turkeys gathered in the field to the south and dined, pecking at bugs, seeds, and grass. Afterward, their caravan marched up the driveway into the yard and slowly walked along finding a few more savory morsels before moving behind the cabin. They clucked as they moved along, and I suspected that they roosted somewhere up the ridge before the light faded and darkness fell across the mountains.
Often, I had to remind the pups to leave the birds alone. Max, my earnest hunter, sadly whined. He wanted nothing more than to create havoc and chase the birds along to the ridgeline. Mitzi, my tiny protectress, stayed close and barked warnings. The evening rituals had quickly become a favorite pastime during our stay.
These lazy days in the mountains have been refreshing. Just what this gal and her furbabies needed. But, it’s time to make another cup of Chai tea, recline close the fire, and listen to the rest of my book. As the day begins to warm, I need to write just a little more before the pups and I make our backyard escape. After all, the mountains are calling.
Well, I have four nicknames. When I was little, my dad called me imp. Click here to read that story. At times, when my mom was being extra sentimental, she would call me Annie. Most of my friends call me Annie too. And one of my all-time favorite nicknames has to be Honey. When my oldest grandson was about 15 months old, he started calling me Honey, and yes, my heart melted. Since that time, the name has stuck. All of my grandkids call me by that name, and I love it. My middle school kids call me Ms. B. And one year, some of my sixth-grade students asked what my grandchildren called me. Some of my kids asked if they could call me Miss Honey, and of course, I consented. A few combined the two and called me Ms. Honey B. Over the years, I have loved every single one of my nicknames, for each has a special meaning that I hold dear.
Since sixth grade, I have been blessed with a dear friend and sister, Barbara Lesesne Medlock. We hit it off from day one when she broke an extra-large pencil over the head of Chipman Middle School’s biggest bully after he called her “Freckles.” This pint-sized tornado made her mark on her first day of school. And we have been the best of friends since sixth grade.
Over time, we became literal blood sisters after slicing open our thumbs one night. We slept out in my backyard. My dad had set up a camp stove and after a round of s’mores, we started yapping, and I am not sure who even brought up this idea of blood sisters for life, I just remember, going to the kitchen and finding a sharp knife. Once settled next to my friend, we each took a turn slicing our thumbs. Pushing our bleeding thumbs together, we made our oath, blood sisters for life.
We also called ourselves, “The Goun Girls.” I am not sure who came up with the name, but Barb came up with the spelling. The Goun Girls were inseparable, and after school, we had many adventures. We walked the shore along the Alameda coastline, writing our names and messages on the sand. We played under the pines at Crown Memorial State Beach. We were regulars at the nearby Woodstock Park and Washington Park, and of course, Ballena Bay Isle. We also rode our bikes all over the tiny island. We rode to distant parks and visited my grandparents, often stopping by for a cold glass of water before our adventures took us to new places.
In fact, once, we just about gave our parents a coronary when we decided to ride through the Posey Tunnel to Oakland. It was not one of our most brilliant moves since the tiny sidewalk and railing did not offer an opportunity to turn our bikes around. We were stuck and had to ride our bikes for almost two miles in the underwater tunnel. It was loud as cars zoomed through the underpass, and what was even worse was the smell of the auto exhaust! The emissions made me queasy, and I wasn’t sure if I would make it. At any moment, I thought I was going to lose my lunch!
We were never so happy to reach fresh air! Still, our eleven-year-old brains realized we had not made the wisest choice, and we knew we had better turn around and race through the passage one more time. When we came up for fresh air in Alameda, we breathed a sigh of relief. Seriously, we knew we could not tell a soul, and I thought the massive headache from the fumes should be punishment enough.
However, as it often transpires, parents discover their children’s lapses in judgment. Although this transgression occurred over fifty years ago, Barb’s mom discloses our misdeed with the same amount of shock and dismay to this very day. And I know if my mom were still alive, I would still receive a scolding even though Barb and I are now grandmothers! What a crazy and wonderful childhood we shared on that little island. And I am so pleased that we have remained friends for over fifty years
Oh, but where was I… travel plans…well, of course, my friend and I have made future plans. We have considered returning to Key West, Punta Gorda, Florida, or the Rocky Mountains of my home state. We also have our sites in faraway places like Italy, Quebec, and even our old stomping grounds in Alameda. But know this, we have learned our lesson. If we end up in Alameda, this time, we will not ride bikes through the tunnel. Promise, Mrs. L!
Hmm. I wonder. Thinking about our antics when we are together, is it still possible that two grown grannies can get grounded? Updates to follow!
When I am at work, I sometimes like to enjoy music. Still, the music genre depends on the current activity or lesson plan that requires my attention. If I have busy work, I like loud rock…Nickelback, Eagles, Lynyrd Skynyrd, to name a few. However, if I need to focus, I choose country or soft rock. I also enjoy listening to Christian music too. And now that I have been enjoying audible books, I often listen to books during my plan time.
“There are two lasting bequests we can give our children: One is roots, the other is wings.” Teaching children values and giving them the opportunity to excel is essential to good parenting. However, I feel I must also provide my children (and myself) insight into the ones who came before us: our ancestors whose lives and stories have shaped us into who we are. This is my journey; these are their stories…
Tales of a Family 