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#SOL24-30 Three

Published on March 30, 2024 
It is Tuesday and time to write a 'Slice of Life." 
Thank you  Two Writing Teachers for creating this supportive community
of teacher-writers!

As his colleagues shared their farewells, I took notes:

“an upstanding man”
“a mentor, a coach, a friend”
“he assured everyone who worked with him, especially his interns, ‘this place is full of opportunities; if this is something you are interested in - go for it.”

I was the proverbial fly on the wall, listening and learning, at my brother’s retirement.

My brother “Three” ( of my four brothers) and I are thirteen months apart in age and have always been close. We both settled in the Washington, D.C. area after college. (Isn’t ‘settled’ a funny word to describe all the ups and downs, the gyrations, the unpredictability of life, anywhere?) The years have tumbled by, with so many loving connections – we hung out together as young singles, then we each got married, followed by a blur of years raising children, hosting playdates and sleepovers between our boys, family holidays and special dinners, supporting our parents in their declining health, music concerts, road races, and other fun pastimes, and holding each other up in times of grief and challenge. We have always shared stories about work with one another, but honestly, work life was never the primary topic of conversation – especially, I think, because we weren’t in the same field. He was a broadcaster and I was a teacher.

I knew he loved his work though.

When he was a child, he loved two things: sports and radio. He was always running around, playing sports, every imaginable physical game that came his way:  basketball, football, ping-pong, racquetball, baseball, tennis, whatever. Basketball was his all-time favorite sport. He also loved to listen to the radio. He played with the dial constantly, sifted through the AM stations, kept his ear out for Casey Kasem Top 40, and rushed to respond to “be the tenth caller…,” hoping to win a prize.

He won a huge prize career-wise: finding work that wove together those two childhood interests. Three just retired from a long career with Voice of America. Let me share this from VOA’s mission statement:

Since its creation in 1942, Voice of America has been committed to providing comprehensive coverage of the news and telling audiences the truth. Through World War II, the Cold War, the fight against global terrorism, and the struggle for freedom around the globe today, VOA exemplifies the principles of a free press.

Voice of America, https://www.insidevoa.com/p/5831.html

My brother Three hosted an English language radio show broadcast to Africa about his one great love in life: sports. 

Here I was at his retirement, visiting VOA for the first time ever. We arrived at his office near the Mall in Washington, D.C. just in time to witness a motorcade on a neighboring street – police on motorcycles escorting seven black SUVs, sirens blaring. It made me smile to see this, thinking about how many years this was my daily experience, being in the midst of this hustle and bustle. Now, I am like a tourist, oohing and aahing, trying to guess what important person is being chaperoned to the U.S. Capitol.

The VOA building was fascinating. These flags in the entry hall represent all the different languages in which broadcasts are offered:

I thoroughly enjoyed every minute of his retirement function. I quickly assessed how much his colleagues loved him. What a wonderful experience for me, his big sister, to hear these accolades! It was so amazing to view him through this whole new lens.

The line that made me laugh so much:

“If the race was between two dead turtles, he’d still make the race exciting.”

This was one compliment made my eyes water:

“He offered me space and freedom to create and express the way I wanted and then he cheered me on.”

He would have made a very fine teacher, I think. (Yes, big sister here, having the last word.)

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#SOL24-29 Soft Words

Published on March 29, 2024 
It is Tuesday and time to write a 'Slice of Life." 
Thank you  Two Writing Teachers for creating this supportive community
of teacher-writers!

If we took violence out of our everyday language, would we notice more clearly the violence in the world? Does our language itself numb us to real pain and tragedy in the world, becoming almost a blanket or a throw that we hide beneath, normalizing the horrors around us?

These aren’t really my thoughts, but a paraphrasing or extension of the poet Ocean Vuong’s. He speaks about the preponderance of weaponized words in our ordinary vocabulary (Krista Tippett, On Being, “A Life Worth of Our Breath” April 30, 2020/updated May 3, 2023) and his message lingers in my head. I repeated some of his thoughts to a friend, reading from the transcript:

I think we’re still very primitive in the way we use language and speak, particularly in how we celebrate ourselves — “You’re killing it.”

But one has to wonder, what is it about a culture that can only value itself through the lexicon of death? I grew up in New England, and I heard boys talk about pleasure as conquest. “I bagged her. She’s in the bag. I owned it. I owned that place. I knocked it out of the park. I went in there, guns blazing. Go knock ‘em dead. Drop dead gorgeous. Slay — I slayed them. I slew them.” What happens to our imagination, when we can only celebrate ourselves through our very vanishing?

Ocean Vuong,
On Being with Krista Tippett,
April 30, 2020/updated May 3, 2023

I said to my friend, I wonder how often we do this? How often are we using violent metaphors and phrasing?

She shot me down, I mean, she denied the possibility, saying “I never do that; maybe you do it, because you come from a military family.” 

Well, I didn’t argue with her, but I think we all use these expressions. I think Ocean Vuong is right about our language being steeped with such references. I told my friend that I really want to work on this in my own language, to pay more close attention to my verbal minefield   – I mean, the vocabulary I speak, to watch my words and notice where I slip. I started a log of ‘violent’ words that I use and hear, times when I invoke ‘death’ or cruel or brutal terms when I am actually conveying something much lighter. 

I took a shot at it. I wondered. I guessed. 

In my word journal, I write and practice ‘rewrites,’ writing the message anew by using words that offer softness, love, and kindness. 

Honestly, I am surprised by how ubiquitous this ‘verbal tic’ is for me – and how heightened my awareness when these terms are used by others. Here are a couple entries from my log:

  1. I have a love ritual at bedtime with my grandchildren, where I dump a bin of their stuffed animals on top of them after I tuck them in…yes, it’s rather silly, but it is great fun for the littles. I realized I was saying “I’m going to bombard you!” – and my immediate substitution was “I’m going to get you!” (which sounded rather ‘attacking,’ I think). After some thought, I changed the words of the game to, “Here comes a rainstorm, oh my, such rain, today!”  This offers them a gentler image before sleep.
  2. Try to name what I love about the person rather than ‘dismissing’ their uniqueness with a canned line. “You are killing me!” becomes, perhaps, “You are so quick-witted!” 
  3. Bullet journal? Bullet lists? My goodness, everyone says this. How about “dot journal/lists”? Or an ‘itemized’ journal/list? This one has me flummoxed; what to substitute for bullet?
  4. What about the word trigger; why do I use this? Might it be substituted with “awaken” or “set off”? Scares me? Makes me uncomfortable? (To illustrate how often this term is used unnecessarily, I happened upon a prayer that read – I kid you not – ‘trigger my care, Lord” – and thought, why couldn’t this be written ‘awaken my care’?) 
  5. shoot from the hip; say instead, “just a wild guess here” or “I’m being a bit impulsive, but I wonder…”

There are many more entries; my list keeps growing longer and longer. Maybe there isn’t a one-to-one replacement for every one of these terms.  Maybe more than one word is needed. Maybe the whole context needs to be rewritten. Maybe it makes sense to use the terms at certain times. I do think this is worth thinking about and that these basic twists to my language are a positive step for me.

“We often tell our students, The future’s in your hands. But I think the future is actually in your mouth.”

-Ocean Vuong
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#SOL24-28 Tenebrae

Published on March 28, 2024 
It is Tuesday and time to write a 'Slice of Life." 
Thank you  Two Writing Teachers for creating this supportive community
of teacher-writers!

Today is Maundy Thursday on the Christian calendar, a very solemn day of the Easter week, as it commemorates the day Jesus celebrated his final Passover. It is said that Jesus humbly washed the feet of his disciples after dinner that evening, and offered his greatest command

Love one another, as I have loved you

Our church has a beautiful Tenebrae service, a service of shadows. The church is lit with candles and there are a series of readings about Jesus’ suffering:

The Shadow of Betrayal | Matthew 26:20-25
The Shadow of Unfaithfulness | Mark 14:32-41
The Shadow of Desertion | Matthew 26:47-50, 55-56
The Shadow of Accusation | Matthew 26:59-67
The Shadow of Mockery | Mark 15:12-20
The Shadow of the Cross | Luke 23:33-46
Love is Stronger Than Death | John 13:34-35
The Word was God | John 1:14, 10, 12, 3:19

I am a participant in the readings, and after I read, I blow out a candle.  A moment of silence follows. The church becomes progressively darker, with each reading. 

This service of shadows fills me with deep reflection about pain and suffering in our world, what has always been, what is now, and must it always be? My mind sifts through the hurt, with a heightened awareness . . .

  • The horrific pain and shock, just this week, of a local and essential bridge, the Key Bridge in Baltimore, which was destroyed in approximately 40 seconds by a container ship carrying hazardous materials
  • The death of six construction workers in this tragedy; how immigrants do anonymous, difficult, and essential work, and endure such endless prejudice and hardship
  • The continued horrors of war and rampage in Gaza, Ukraine, Haiti, Myanmar, Yemen, in so many places throughout the world, leading to the death, suffering, and starvation of so many innocents
  • The endless hate and discrimination towards others, often in the name of religion, so antithetical to a loving God, I think
  • The growing, horrific appeal of christian nationalism, white supremacy, far-right, autocratic beliefs 
  • The assault on truth and freedom throughout the world; the barrage of corrosive headlines that greet me each morning; the explosion of fake news 
  • The personal hurts and traumas within our communities, heavy and invisible loads which we bear alone
  • How we fail at love

The final reading is offered by our minister, and when that candle is extinguished, there is total darkness in the church. We recess from the church and go our separate ways, in darkness and silence. 

How can one not be moved?

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#SOL24-25 No Fanfare

Published on March 25, 2024 
It is Tuesday and time to write a 'Slice of Life." 
Thank you  Two Writing Teachers for creating this supportive community
of teacher-writers!

As I set the table for our family brunch, I had this moment of amazement: our youngest grandchild eats with a regular plate, a regular fork, and a regular cup. Everyone has a place setting of “adult-ware.” Wait – when did this happen? We have a bin full of children’s unbreakable dishes and tiny spoons and forks, and no one needs them anymore. We babysit the grandkids for a day or two each week, and somehow I missed this? How long have we been serving them with regular utensils? Right under our eyes, they have moved on. I wasn’t even aware that there was a ‘last time.’

There must be countless other examples; let me think –

  • all the baby clothes that no longer fit 
  • now they put on their own socks and shoes
  • they open their own yogurts and cheese sticks 
  • they know how to wash and dry their hands
  • when I am watering plants, they actually help me … whoa …

When we go for a walk these days, it’s the baby dolls who get strolled – and the granddaughters who do the pushing and caregiving.

Our babies have grown. 

I seriously don’t know when it happened, and I wish there was some way to slow it down. Yes, yes, I realize they are still quite little (ages 5 and 3), but this is astounding to me. 

From one stage to the next, time passes almost invisibly. No fanfare, no pushing, no demanding, it just happens, in the midst of living. 

I tried my hand at a triolet, to hold my reflections –

holding you close

oh my sweet dear one 
tender as morning dew
kissed by adoring sun
oh my sweet dear one
life’s magic being spun 
beaming light anew
oh my sweet dear one 
tender as morning dew

#SOL24-24 Fitness

Published on March 24, 2024 
It is Tuesday and time to write a 'Slice of Life." 
Thank you  Two Writing Teachers for creating this supportive community
of teacher-writers!

How much effort would it take to pop into my son’s home gym for a few minutes when we go to babysit our granddaughters, one or two days each week? Wouldn’t this be a great way to add strength training to our walking routine?

This was our goal. We honed in on it around the new year, when one is supposed to be amending their ways. We stated the goal aloud to our son, who echoed our thoughts about the importance of strength training as we age. Everyone agreed, this was a good idea.

There the new exercise routine sat, in our imagination. We took no further steps for many weeks.

Late February rolled around, and we still hadn’t started to work on this resolution. My son offered to give us a little coaching, to create a brief routine that we might complete in 15-20 minutes. We dropped by his house on a non-babysitting day and he showed us seven basic exercises – five of which do not require special equipment and we are able to do at our own home, with hand weights. He recommended two to three sessions each week. 

Sure!

Not. 

What keeps getting in the way? I don’t know. It is HARD to start new stuff. 

On our long drive home from vacation last week, Tony and I agreed to revisit the goal, to begin doing the exercises. Starting the very next day, we would do the five that required no special equipment, and practice these at home. 

Wait, what were these five exercises? 

That tomorrow became tomorrow’s tomorrow’s tomorrow. Finally, I said: Let’s start!! I opened up the notes I had taken on my phone and tried to decipher the exercises. Truthfully, too much time had passed; we no longer remembered what each exercise ‘looked’ like. How were we supposed to hold our bodies for each one? 

In lieu of working out, I decided to make a project of my notes: Using the terminology my son used when he coached us, I looked up each exercise on the internet. I read as much as I could find on each exercise, paying particular attention to suggestions and advice for how best to hold your body. Then, I drew diagrams of our body positions in a small notebook, to keep with our weights in the basement. 

(Do you see how ‘academic’ I am about procrastination, successfully avoiding the actual exercises with a creative diversion?)  

In my defense, I moved my body into position for each exercise so that I might understand directions and draw a better diagram (although I did not hold hand weights). These are silly images, I think – but I am a person who needs visuals and they do help me. Here’s one for “squats with weights”:

I shared my new visual guide with my son, who said “This is great, Mom! Good job!” (One of those exchanges when I feel we have flipped positions, he the parent, I the child…how much more of this awaits, as I age?) 

Then he looked at the guide and said – Mom, I never showed you this exercise, #2:

(Him) This is very advanced, done by bodybuilders. Did you try this? 

(Me) No, I just drew it. I was wondering why I didn’t remember it. It did seem challenging.

(Him) Here, let me show you the original exercise, which is really more of a stretch, something you can do any time of day, and will help you ease your aching feet and calves. It is great for knee health. Really, this is a good exercise for you. You do not need hand weights.

He demonstrated the stretch and I took photos, and then, of course, I had to draw it out and add it into our exercise booklet:

He proceeded to look through the rest of my drawings and descriptions, and made a couple minor corrections. The exercise drawings are all set now. Nothing prevents us working out!

I wonder, how often do I overthink? How often do I make the simple unnecessarily complicated? There is real wisdom in that old Nike ad: just do it. 

Tomorrow. 

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#SOL24-22 Blooms

Published on March 22, 2024 
It is Tuesday and time to write a 'Slice of Life." 
Thank you  Two Writing Teachers for creating this supportive community
of teacher-writers!
Cherry blossoms in Sligo Creek

“Many eyes go through the meadow but few see the flowers within it.”

Ralph Waldo Emerson

When I returned from my walk, I decided to take a slow wander through my yard and photograph all the pretty blooms of spring that are popping up. Most days, I come and go without stopping, and this is true of flowers, too. Let me stop and savor them for a moment – and share them with you.

My yard is bursting with lenten roses (hellebore), I love these so much. I’ve written about these before, how they are one of the earliest blossoms, often beginning in late January. Here, at the start of spring, they are full and luscious, standing tall, as if waving hello, welcoming all the other spring blossoms.

lenten roses

“Where flowers bloom, so does hope.”

Lady Bird Johnson

We’ve sprinkled the yard with daffodils, “a variety of varieties,” and often slip more into the ground each fall, in random locations, just because we can. They make the world merry, yes?

“If we could see the miracle of a single flower, clearly our whole life would change.”

Buddha

It is a bit early still for tulips, one small delicate yellow tulip has decided to defy that timeline. What a joy to find this little friend! This one is soaking in bright sun, and warmed up before all the others, I suppose.

We have planted pink and white hyacinths in a reckless “I have no idea where to plant these!” manner. They are hiding in corners, under shrubs, and, today, are winking a cheery spring hello. These are always a bit earlier than their cousins, the deep blue wood hyacinths, which are sending up buds and are probably a week or two away from full bloom.

The forsythia bushes are in their full glory today. I am so glad I stopped to witness these.

“If you look the right way, you can see that the whole world is a garden.”

Frances Hodgson Burnett
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#SOL24-21 The Leak

Published on March 21, 2024 
It is Tuesday and time to write a 'Slice of Life." 
Thank you  Two Writing Teachers for creating this supportive community
of teacher-writers!

How to describe the sound? So quiet it overwhelms, and wakes you in the middle of the night. It is a strange kind of echo, the sound of water flowing, a ‘white noise,’ steady and resounding, and you will jump from bed to investigate. What is that?!

While we were away on vacation, our next door neighbors watched our home for us, collecting any stray packages from the doorstep and making sure that all was well while we traveled. We have great neighbors, and we do this for one another whenever one of us is out of town. We checked in with them a time or two by text, mostly to send a braggy photo or two of our fun travels. Then they texted back their dilemma: 

They heard the sound of water running, yet no sign of water. They searched upstairs and downstairs, turned on and off faucets, double-checked the laundry area: no surprise water anywhere. 

We texted back immediately, to double-check their words – Wait, your house or our house? Who has this problem?

Ours is the frightened response of people who have “been there, done that.” We knew exactly what the problem was: a pinhole leak in the water pipes to one’s home. You hear water running, flowing, gushing. You see nothing. It is eerie. 

Good news for us, it is their home that is having the problem. Bad news for them, we were right: pinhole leaks. And, unfortunately, their leak is causing such a severe flow of water, the WSSC cut off the water supply to their home. I feel so badly that they are having this dreaded experience. 

All the water pipes in our neighborhood are quite old. Most of the homes were built between 1935-1945, and the pipes are galvanized metal. These do not age well, rusting out and forming holes. Water gushes into the ground, invisible to the eye, only something one can hear. The pipes must be replaced, which is a labor intensive task requiring the digging of a deep trench. (Here’s a question – is it really an improvement that old galvanized pipes are replaced with some new thick polyvinyl? We all know the wonders of plastic in our water…but I digress.) 

If the leak is in the part of the pipe between your yard and the street, where the main water lines are, that’s a county problem and they must pay for the repair. However, if the leak is in your yard…ugh….

If only one home hears the water flowing, chances are close to excellent that the leak is in that one yard. 

Our education about pinhole leaks occurred right before my husband’s 50th birthday party, when we had tons of people coming to the house to celebrate. You could see the usage dial spinning on the water meter, yet there was no evidence of water leaking inside our home. Our water pressure deteriorated. We called WSSC with fingers crossed that this was a county issue, but that was not to be. The plumbers dug an enormous ditch through the front yard, in order to make the repair. The repair took several days, straddling the birthday party. On the bright side, we were able to keep our water on, in the house; I don’t know that we could have had a party without it. The yard, however, was a disaster. I remember the plumber put sawhorses around the cavernous trench, to keep children away, and I believe I added celebratory balloons to these, for a chuckle.

Our neighbors didn’t have the added hassle of a bunch of partygoers coming to the house, but they had the terrible timing of hosting a friend from Texas. Hosting company for several days and no running water? Oh my. 

One cannot function without water.

We didn’t hesitate; we insisted they take over our home while we were away – use the kitchen, take showers, collect water, run laundry, whatever you need. It is now a whole week later, we are back home, their guest is gone, and their repair has still not been made. The plumber cannot work on the fix until the county issues a permit, and there has been a delay in acquiring this. 

The neighbors are eating lots of takeout, filling big buckets with water from our hose to run their toilets, and keeping their spirits up as best they can; it is good that they don’t have young children underfoot, I think. We gave them a spare key to our basement, and insisted they come and go as they need. This area of our home was more or less ‘an apartment’ for our boys as they became young adults; there is a full bathroom down there, the laundry room, and a separate door to enter/exit. Our neighbors always send a text before coming over, though we insist there is no need for a heads up – our children never did this for us, lol!

In the early morning, one might notice someone ‘sneaking’ out of our home with a backpack of clothes over their shoulder, slipping across the driveway into their own back door.  

I wonder if other neighbors are wagging their tongues at the sight?

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#SOL24-20 Create

Published on March 20, 2024 
It is Tuesday and time to write a 'Slice of Life." 
Thank you  Two Writing Teachers for creating this supportive community
of teacher-writers!

It is morning and I am seated by the window, writing into the day. I remember small moments of yesterday, follow a random thought into something new, and toy with poetry. He is seated at the piano, nearby, in the front room, creating soft melodies. He delves into songs he once knew well, finding these in weathered music books, concentrates on matching his hand placement to the notes, and begins practicing. 

I love to write while he plays piano. There is something so soothing about the melodies he chooses, which are never intrusive to my thoughts, and simply alongside, freeing me. 

I took over this chair by the window when I retired from teaching in June 2020, in the midst of the pandemic. Writing, writing, writing. Puzzling over poetry prompts, remembering something from childhood and trying to tease it out, trying to write a story from start to finish. Playing with words. I am convinced that writing has saved me from the most anxious parts of myself. I am reminded of the indigenous parable of ‘the wolf you feed’  where there is a battle of good and evil within oneself. (I like this synopsis by the artist Aida Muluneh.) For me, the battle is between being calm, present, and clear-thinking, versus anxious, worried, and terrified about the world. My morning writing sets me up for a better day, one less ridden with anxiety. 

Tony, on the other hand, wakes up “doing.” He wakes up early, and gets going. He is always thinking about what needs fixing, what food we need to fetch at the grocery, who will be dropping by, and where we need to be at what time. First thing in the morning, he heads outside, to tinker in the garage or the yard. He might be up on a ladder, clearing the gutters of leaves and debris before the next storm, or digging up weeds along the front walk. He is a busy guy, and he keeps this house functioning, I am certain of it. I am so grateful for him. He finds what needs doing and he goes after it. 

He and I both noticed, with the exception of sitting and toying with the keys alongside our granddaughters, he was never playing the piano. 

He is also frustrated and anxious about this world and the direction it seems to be heading. We live in the Washington, D.C. suburbs, and we really have to work to NOT be immersed in all the ugly all the time. I think one big part of Tony’s getting caught up in small tasks is because he is stewing about the latest horrible news or worrying about a family member. Our efforts to make the world a better place seem so small and fruitless, and the problems so vast and daunting. 

He loves to play the piano, and he was putting it last on his list. 

So we set this fun new year’s intention: let’s both succumb to morning creative practice. A new routine was initiated: I write and he plays piano, and we strive for at least twenty minutes a morning, together but separate. On days when we are at home and we don’t have to babysit or rush out to an appointment, let’s put ‘play’ first, ahead of reading those headlines, ahead of all our to-do’s and worries. Some three months into the new year, our resolve to sit and play in our own fun creative way, is still going strong. We are often engaged in our pastimes for longer than the planned twenty minutes.

There seems to still be plenty of time to get to all our tasks.

It is amazing to me, to have time to play like this; I know it is a very precious gift of retirement. To spend time in such softness never felt possible during our careers, when morning meant the early morning alarm going off, rushing to get ready, to get the children ready, to get out, go, go, go. If I could turn back time, I’d do it differently, and make creative play a priority. Taking time to create is good for the mind, soul, and heart. 

Writing has become a daily prayer for me – how I seek solace, how I lament, how I amend my ways, and how I find hope. I think Tony’s piano playing is a similar release.

The granddaughters love to tinker with the piano, too.

—

Keeping on this theme, I wrote a poem, thanks to inspiration by Shelley Martin-Young on today’s OpenWrite poetry at Ethical ELA

Release

with each year of living
comes pain of witnessing

the young husband 
who disappears 
declaring the marriage over

the teenager
found on the floor in the basement 
drowning in addiction and depression

the mom 
who starves herself as she
descends into suicidal darkness

the father 
who admits 
his life has been one big lie

the legacy of straw households 
wobbly built on secrets 
and judgment 
and hurt

days of helplessness
trying to breathe
needing hope

put pen to paper and let 
myself spiral 
just for a moment
let go

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#SOL24-19 Independence

Published on March 19, 2024 
It is Tuesday and time to write a 'Slice of Life." 
Thank you  Two Writing Teachers for creating this supportive community
of teacher-writers!

Today, she made her own lunch.

Insisted on it. 

Determined.

She is three years old. 

Which simply means: 

She wants and knows and must. 

Everything. 

Always. 

She can do. 

One slice of potato bread

On a grown up plate

She leaned over the big jar

Dug deep and scooped

Strawberry jam

Dropping a spoonful on the bread

Working like an artist

Spread the sweetness

With a butter knife

Drawing into the corners

Meeting each edge

Concentrating

Next, the cream cheese

A second knife from the drawer

(Nana’s eyes widen – it is sharp!)

She scratched and fiddled

Lips pursed

Leaning into the gooey spread

Wanting it on her bread

One index finger helping

Holding the bread in place

Never giving up

Big sigh of success

Two hands fold

The bread together

Eyes twinkle 

Huge smile

She takes her first bite

Best. Sandwich. Ever.

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#SOL24-18 Alligator

Published on March 18, 2024 
It is Tuesday and time to write a 'Slice of Life." 
Thank you  Two Writing Teachers for creating this supportive community
of teacher-writers!

I use my arms as a long set of alligator teeth as Bird sails down the slide, and I pretend to bite her, singing 

Alligator, Alligator
I want to be your friend
I want to be your friend
I want to be your friend, too
[one final chomp, with bravado]

This child’s jingle always leads to laughter, as they evade my chomping. I am not sure which early childhood “mentor” teacher (is such silliness “mentoring”?) offered this earworm to me.

I have long wondered why one would be friends with an alligator.

What a scandalous idea to teach children, right?

Wanting to show my granddaughters a photo of a real alligator, I searched for “alligator” in my vacation photos. Google only recognized a sculpture of an alligator from someone’s backyard, taken more than a year ago.

Yet, I had taken several photos of alligators on our trip this past week to the Lowcountry, South Carolina. Where did these photos go? 

We came across several alligators. Bounteous alligators. Seriously, at least two dozen alligators, lazing about, as we meandered the island over the course of our week-long vacation. They are everywhere, these dark green mysterious dangerous beings. Everywhere you go, there are also warning signs, big bold letters about ALLIGATORS LIVE HERE and USE CAUTION. Here are the warnings:

- Assume every body of water contains an alligator
- Stay at least 60 feet (4 car lengths) away from alligators.
- Alligators are ambush predators and can move faster than you or your pets.
- Keep yourself, pets and children away from water’s edge.
- Swimming or wading is prohibited in Sea Pines’ waterways.
- Feeding or harassing alligators is dangerous and illegal.
- When fishing or crabbing do not throw used bait or fish parts into the water

I am a cautious person. I am often an obedient rule-follower. I am also curious, especially about nature. I do love to take photos when I am out and about. So I snuck a few photos, when we happened upon alligators. Obviously, very bad images from a scaredy-cat photographer, because Google didn’t even discern them as existing. Let me share them with you.

Here’s an alligator on our side of the bike path, as we turned the curve on our bikes:

Here, we saw several alligators lazing on the opposite side of a lagoon:

Here’s an alligator in the forest preserve (you can spot the warning sign, on the left):

My less-than-vivid photos show you that I was hasty, hesitant, and not hovering over alligators. The only way one can begin to discern an image is through editing the photo and zooming in. I think I will share the image of the alligator sculpture with my granddaughters, so that they might actually ‘see’ one. 

Yes, I was unnerved by these sightings. One hears and reads horrid stories about alligators attacking people. Terrifying! 

“They” say that alligators will eat anything. When their stomachs are cut open, after they die, there is evidence of trash and leaves and metal and bones and more.

Once, we heard a really loud splash as we studied a turtle at the forest preserve, and immediately wondered – wait, is there an alligator nearby? We hopped right back on our bikes, and bantered as we pedaled quickly away –

I heard their eyesight is limited. 

I heard you can’t tell if they are asleep or looking right at you. 

I heard they only run straight, so you should run or pedal away in a zigzag. 

I heard you should simply run faster than the people you are with. 

(This last advice from my witty brother.)

_______

Let me close with an alligator poem, my attempt at a playful Double Dactyl, inspired by Wendy Everard, in today’s Ethical ELA Open Write. 

Alligate-Alliwait 
Missus McGoo on bike
Slowing down taking pic
While full of fright

Step too close, pause too long
Irrecoverably
Alligate for the win 
Not pretty sight 
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