My Journey in Quotes & Writing Assignment #27 Jr High/Middle School

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WRITING ASSIGNMENT #27 JR. HS / MIDDLE SCHOOL

Adolescence is the age at which children stop asking questions because they know all the answers

Describe your Jr High/Middle School.  The layout of the campus, a classroom and favorite and/or a least favorite teacher.

This is the time when you started to develop a taste for the current fashion, music, slang or sayings. Give a detailed description of YOU at this time....clothes, hair...what you thought was "cool" or what was important to you.

Did you have an embarrassing, humbling and/or growing experience during this time? Share your feelings and how you "lived through" it.

Home life during this time period:

Who was waiting for you when you came home from school? What was it like?

Did you have chores to do?

Were you paid?  How much?

How did you earn "extra money"?

What did you spend it on?

Who were your friends?  Describe their looks and personalities. What influence did they have on you?

How did you spend your after-school time?

If television/radio was a part of your life at this time...what shows did you watch/listen to?

Video games?

Cooking like a Tuscan! And writing Assignment #26 - Recipes

I've discovered that grief doesn't ever go away, not totally. Probably because the sense of loss is always so prevalent. There is no denying that loneliness is a constant companion even in a crowd. I try to fill my life with distractions, not always successfully however because it's a constant 24 hour a day job even after this much time has passed since Dale died.

I grin and bear it but there are some days, like today, when my distractions aren't cutting it. So what's the answer? Oh how I'd love to hop on a plane and head to Italy! But alas, I am well aware that it is not something I can do now. And then, suddenly, the gift of a memory pops into my mind and leads me back to a time in Florence when I decided to take care of my loneliness there. The memory is calming to my agitated mind and seems to slow the pace of the unexplained feeling of a constant revving engine deep within me. Perhaps the recycling remnants of grief? 

I don't know, but for now, I'll use this memory, not as a distraction this time but actually reliving the joy and maybe even pat myself on the back for knowing how to solve the problem for loneliness then which means I should be able to figure out what I still need to do now.

In the meantime, here's my Tuscan memory.....

I bid a fond “Arrivederci” to my fellow students at the University’s Italian evening class that I was taking thanks to the arrangements made by my Polish housekeeper, a full time language student at the school.

It was evening now. The school was in the Altra Arno section of Florence.  I strolled back across the Ponte S. Trinita stopping midway to absorb the beauty of the full moon reflecting on the languid river. My growling stomach reminded me that it had been a long time since my nibble of percorino cheese and a few grapes at noon. I picked up my pace just a bit and made my way through the ancient streets of Florence. I could try a different trattoria each night and still not eat at all the glorious places in Firenze! What did I feel like this evening?   

The door of the Trattoria Maremma stood ajar and I floated in on the delicate fragrance of the roasting main course…roasted wild boar (cinghiale) infused with sage and rosemary.  Seated at a tiny table with a white linen cloth near the window, I nibbled on the crusty bread while I analyzed my homework of verbs and nouns and the rolling r’s that make the language so intoxicating.  Just the sight of the laden plate when it was set before me gave me a thrill…I was in for something very special!  Oh the fragrance, oh the delectable mingling of flavors and textures, oh how I needed to learn how to cook this way! I scurried back to my apartment, full, contented and eager to get to my computer and research cooking schools.   

Just one week later, the early morning bells of Florence chimed as if it were any other Thursday, but I knew better.  The Florentines would be going about their regular activities; meandering their way through the ancient streets on their way to work - stopping first at a cozy café to stand at a counter and sip morning espresso and munch on pastry. Soon, but not too soon, they would be opening their shops and wishing “Buon Giorno” to their holiday shoppers until they closed down again at 12:30 to have a leisurely two hour lunch before opening up their doors again for the afternoon.  I, on the other hand, knew that today was America’s Thanksgiving Day and I was going to celebrate and what better way than cooking! And I was going to learn to cook ITALIAN! Not the boring Roman food but the food of Tuscany!  Besides, without my family and in a far away country, I knew I needed to entertain myself to avoid the dreaded homesickness of explorers like myself far away from family on holidays….

So, I dressed in layers….piling on the thick woolen Florentine scarves and gloves that  I had purchased at the shepherd’s market in Piazza della S.S. Annunziata, my new black Italian coat and my good walking shoes. With my camera slung over my shoulder I headed out the door of my sweet little apartment with the wonderful terrazzo that has the sweeping view of Florence with the Duomo and Campinelle, the Bargello and the Badia, the bridges of the Arno and the Piazelle Michaelangelo all waiting for me to gaze upon…but not today!    I walked to the viale where Elizabeth, from Australia, picked me up her in silver hatchback and we headed out for an adventure.  

For forty minutes we chatted and drove, first on the autostrada and then winding our way on the narrow roads leading to a hillside village - past ancient farms and villas and under the arches of towers that have stood for a thousand years.  We stopped at a charming café to meet my host, a noble looking fellow who was born and raised in the castle Villa Pandofini, a palace dating back to the year 1200, built as a hunting residence for the elite Florentines.  Guests have included Napolean Bonaparte and King Charles VIII of France!  Two other stranieri (foreigners) were also there at the cafe and would be joining us on today’s quest.  We were going to the forest to hunt for the prized and elusive “white truffle” and then return to the massive tiled kitchen with two fireplaces to spend 5 hours learning the art of Tuscan cooking from two prominent Italian chefs followed by a feast of truffle laden dishes.  

One of my cohorts was a young ragazzo from Ireland who is the head chef on a yacht owned by the heir of the large fortune, he travels around the world stopping at ports to shop for local delicacies for the guests who fly on and off the boat via its helicopter!  The other was a lady from Seattle who has a catering business and teaches classes in Italian cooking and my qualifications the asked?...well … I eat therefore I am! I said.

So together with cups of hot espresso warming their tummies and ciocolata calda warming mine, we headed for the forest…acorn and oak trees not pines.  We met our guide, a 74 year old truffle hunter and his 8 year old dog, Tobia, whose reason for living (and it is a good one) being to sniff out truffle.  The day was crisp but sunny and the golden leaves crunched beneath our feet as we made a path through the foliage following Tobia. To find a white truffle is like hunting for gold in Alaska but before long (about 30 minutes) good old Tobia sniffed out a location and the hunter went to work digging…nearly 12 inches into the mountain soil and up he came with a round truffle about the size of a cotton ball. A prize valued at over 200 Euro…roughly 225 American dollars.  I held it in my hand and smelled the heady aroma that is unique to anything else! 

On we went deeper into the forest until again Tobia’s white tail wagged furiously and another prize was dug up. What luck!  Even the hunter was surprised and very pleased!  

The chefs, who know the real value of such things, were elated and I knew that a special meal was ahead. Our 8 course meal was prepared with great care and frivolity and the finished product was delicioso!!  

I was dropped back at the viale in Florence and walked home heavy laden with leftovers for my refrigerator.  It was a nice day. Little did I know then that it would make it a good day today!

WRITING ASSIGNMENT #26 - FAMILY RECIPES

The food we eat plays a major role is who we are!  Keeping a record of favorite family recipes as part of your autobiography is a good way to keep them alive.

Along with the recipe itself, tell what made it special.  Whose recipe was it? Why is it special? Describe who was with you as you ate it, where you were? 

If you love to cook, share your own recipes and maybe even some secrets to pass down to future generations!

Have Fun and include photos!

WOOHOO TO WHO? and Writing Assignment #25

I watched a parasailer the other day as he floated over the lake, beneath a parachute of many colors and high above the speed boat that kept him aloft.  “Oh the thrill he must be having” I thought, “The panoramic view; the coolness of the air; the”…and then I thought..”But there is no one with him to hear him exclaim "Woohoo!" No one with him to hear him marvel, "Oh look at that!" and "Oh isn’t this fun!”

So really, how much fun could that actually be?

Well I can tell you the answer to that as I sit here alone; it’s no fun at all. And just as I feel my cheek pull into a smirk I remember the bumper sticker I saw the other day:
 

“THE LIFESTYLE YOU ORDERED IS CURRENTLY OUT OF STOCK”

Well if that isn’t the truth! 

I’ve heard it said that whatever words you use to fill in the blank following the word “I AM ______” is who you become. And since it’s my life, I can fill in my own words - I AM SAD!  I am sad that death came between me and my best friend.  Even after 2 ½ years now I realize that I still can’t say I AM HAPPY.  I have happy moments, I can be completely happy for someone else but I am not or at least my heart is not happy.

Is Dale happy now that he is in a heavenly place?  I hope so, I really do but then I’m shocked to hear my mind repeat the words to the song “Jealous”

I'm jealous of the way
You're happy without me

Perhaps I’m ashamed for thinking it - him being happy without me!

Perhaps I’m angry at the thought of it

Perhaps I feel that I would feel guilty if I were to be happy without him

Or Perhaps, just perhaps, if I look beyond the jealousy or fear of guilt, I realize it’s perfectly OK for us both to be happy now. And that doesn't separate us but joins us even more closely.

He spent our married life making me happy (as I did him). Why would that change now?  I’m sure he’s saddened by my unhappiness. And HE wouldn’t be jealous if I said I was happy now.  I somehow feel that he understands that if I were to be Happy that it wouldn't mean that I’m happy without him.  Funny but I can hear his voice now saying as he used to say,” I’m happy if you’re happy!”

I am suddenly aware that I have been spending a lot time thinking of all of the things that I AM NOT. Gasp. That only fosters unhappiness.

Well I can see that I have some work to do, it won't just happen because I want it to. It will take work filling in the spaces after I AM ___________.

• Not filling them with negative things, or the self deprecating I AMs as in "I'm so dumb" or I'm so clumsy" Or the I'm Nots as in I'm not as talented or healthy, wealthy or wise as someone else) 
• And of course not the I AMs with things that would be prideful or conceited at all
• But with positive observances, as in I AM __________Therefore I can Be _____________.(and reserve my comparison with others who are better than me as a way to improve myself not to discourage my growth)

Ok, here I go, I should start my list with I AM A CHILD OF GOD and then I AM LOVED for the perfect base for happiness and then go on from there in a more specific way.  Adding more each day and becoming those positive things until as faith would have it I will be able to exclaim I AM HAPPY ~ Even if I’m floating through life now under a one person parasail.  I can still yell WOOHOO!

WRITING ASSIGNMENT #25 I LOVE / I HATE

Love and Hate are emotions that help determine who you are and have been so be specific, be thoughtful and answers these questions:

• To this very day I love__________________________. And I can trace it back to.
• To this very day I hate__________________________. And I can trace it back to.

Repeat as many times as you'd like.

Who am I? and Writing Assignment #24 - Ancestors

 

Perhaps I may as well admit it; I believe that I was one of those inquisitive children who always ask, “Why?” And I didn’t want to hear the obvious, I wanted the DETAILS!

As early as just having learned to write, I would sit at my Grandmother’s dining room table; the lace tablecloth had been neatly folded and carefully tucked into the bottom drawer of the buffet, leaving the polished wood of the table peaking through the piles of papers and black genealogy books. Grandma would hand me a blank pedigree chart and a completed one and have me transpose the names from the full one to the empty page. I never asked the purpose of this assignment but felt it was important. I was always intrigued by the names and the old dates. Dates that completed the questions: B for birth, M for married, D for death. I felt a strange pang of sadness as with a few scribbles of my pencil I was able to sum up a person’s life in those few dates; life’s Beginning, Middle and End and then on to the next name.

“WHO was this person?” I’d ask. Grandma always knew their story and was willing to take the time to tell me, I would often say, “But Why?” And invariably she would know the answer. I fell in love with those people. Those grandmas and grandpas with all of the “greats” attached. Also being a child with an overactive imagination…it was easy to put myself right with them in their exciting lives filled with adventure, hard work, love for the Gospel and each other.

Perhaps that is the reason that many years later I was able to fulfill my lifelong need to walk where they walked and see what they saw. I wanted to stroll through the English villages and I wanted to look up at the Swiss Alps; I wanted to buy a coo-coo clock in the Black Forest of Germany and I wanted to eat frikadeller & rødkål in Copenhagen and see if I could actually locate the very spot in the Danish picture hanging in Grandpa’s home.

That’s why I found myself one summer many years later perched on a chair outside Det Gamle Thehus at the foot of an ancient windmill in the tiny hamlet of Viby Denmark eating a Polar Is with a small pink spoon. My Danish genealogist friend, Jytte, waved her own spoon at the surrounding area pointing out the rooftops and lanes that my great-greats knew so well in their lives.

 “The large house you can see down the road was an uncle’s of yours over 250 years ago”, she said.

I was well aware that these homes were not tourist sites, but where people are still born, get married and die. Those same three vital dates - but oh so much more real to me now that I could walk on the same roads, smell the straw on the roofs, feel the sunshine that lasts way into the night and marvel at the blue sky and fields lined with red poppies, white daisies and blue cornflowers. The same fields where so many of my family sowed, cultivated and gathered wheat to feed their families. 

Jytte explained the dynamics of the Danish family. The families were close, the Grandparents were honored and were given the responsibility of caring for the little grandchildren and teaching them to plant the household gardens, care for the smaller animals; create handiwork and to read and understand the scriptures. Each generation devoted to and loving the next. I could feel their love for me…another granddaughter only separated by time. 

But even more important than seeing where they lived, discovering the personal life stories of our ancestors and getting to really know them with their trials, their hardships and challenges are what gives us our identity and our courage and our desire to make something of our own lives. 

The lives of great men all remind us we can make our lives sublime and departing leave behind us footprints on the sands of time. - Thoreau

Truly the ancestors for which I feel the closest connection are those who wrote their autobiographies, sharing not only their experiences but their emotions and their faith and the things they learned in life. Things I try to pass on to my own sons and their children.

"I saw behind me those who had gone, and before me those who are to come. I looked back and saw my father, and his father, and all our fathers, and in front to see my son, and his son, and the sons upon sons beyond. And their eyes were my eyes."  - Richard Llewellyn

So write, record your story for those who come.  Keep adding to your story as events unfold in your own life and also, as you discover stories of your ancestors....pass them down to the next generation as they will never really know who they are until they know from whence they came!

WRITING ASSIGNMENT #24 - ANCESTORS

Chances are, throughout your life you have been inspired by stories of your ancestors.

Retell some of your favorite ones here.

Remember to give the full name, birth date and birth location of the ancestor and exactly how you are related.

It would be good to include a pedigree chart here (and any photos you  may have of them) with your writing.

Have fun. Be inspired, share the inspiration.