Patch of Dirt.

Do you see the patch of dirt that is waiting for planting?

It is still in the same condition weeks after we had paid someone clear the brambles and till the soil.

Why the delay?

The water pump that provides water for irrigation quit working. In this part of the world it rains all the time, until it stops in June. Then, we are on our own. If we want the small seedlings to grow, we need to provide daily moisture until their roots can find water further down, the water table here is quite high.

Last fall we had a well pump installed to bring water from the ground, filter it, and then circulate it as needed in each part of this garden. Besides this area, my husband and his helper had cleared three other areas. In total, we now have four new areas to plant vegetables and fruit canes and bushes. The plan was perfect: a designated area for my new cherry trees and berry patches, an area for cut flowers, and an additional area for seasonal vegetables, one for summer veggies, one for fall/winter, and one for cover crops, rotating each season.

We stopped the planting and tried to fix the pump problem. Our contractor who had installed the device last year came to take a look. He too couldn't solve the problem. The solution was to either replace the pump, a new pump shouldn't have quit, or see if it was an electrical connection problem.

You guessed . The electrical company has appeared to search the ground for the connections. Then the contractor reappeared with a digger , up and down the hill, digging and discovering where the conduit had rotted and needed replacement. We're in this too deeply now to quit.

If we harvest anything this year, we'll have to bond these products in advance. We will enjoy every bite, knowing how much they cost to produce.

In addition, as I tended the roses, some little critter bit me and caused my arm to turn red overnight. So, I called my doctor, who is one hour away. The office tells me to go to the emergency room of the clinic because everyone is booked solid. I spent an entire afternoon at the clinic to have a doctor look at my red arm, prescribe an anti-inflammatory that I must take for six days which will case me all kinds of side effects , and stay out of the garden. Great. I couldn't even move my arm to drive.

One World, One Voice.

Last week, the lovely Tessa, at An Aerial Armadillo, awarded her blog friends this fabulous prize she created in honor of Dr. Maethri's work in Africa on behalf of children afflicted with HIV/AIDS. Dr. Maethri was having a birthday, and Tessa wanted all of us to know the work this young man is doing for humanity.

The award is a beautiful representation of one world, one voice for the good of mankind.

Thank you Tessa for the work you do in promoting goodwill and understanding across cultures.

During this week, while Korea was testing its nuclear might and the astronauts were repairing the Hubble Telescope, the State of Oregon was sending out final budget figures. Our city budget and our school budget have never been leaner.

The stimulus package that the Obama administration has allocated will help our elementary school fix its heating system, repair the gym, upgrade a building that is as old as I am. Three local contractors and their vendors will be working this summer; three businesses that would not have been able to stay open much longer.

We closed one school and had to lay off some teachers and support staff. Other school districts are facing even bigger consequences. In the meantime, gas prices have risen, electrical rates are going up by 20%, and our ancient water system continues to leak.

In Washington, a new voice might be selected for the Supreme Court, a woman, a Latina. The chatter is not about her qualifications, but about her very essence. Is she going to be too provincial in her rulings? Funny, we never asked those questions when white men came up for approval.

Tagged.

Meredith, from Thethingswecarried tagged me this week. The rules are simple: name six blogs to play along, and name six unimportant things which make you happy.
I can do this.

Six unimportant things which make me happy:

1. Calls from my children and grandchild. I can't get enough of them. I want to know what they eat, what is happening at their work, what they are reading, what they are watching on television.

2. A clean house.
Not the actual cleaning, but the result, the end result. I can sit and enjoy the results and feel as though the world is now all right again.

3. New seedlings peeking up from the ground.

4. Fitting into old clothes. I know what you're thinking. Some things I can't give away; so, if I get into those outfits and still feel pretty and young, then they were worth keeping.

5. Finding stuff in the freezer that I can warm up and serve for dinner. While I enjoy cooking, our schedule at times is hectic and having meals ready to defrost helps my mood.



Now, for the list of newer blog friends to reveal to us their five things:

Paul at : http://potsoc.blogspot.com/

Jane at : http://gastonstudio.blogspot.com




Frankofile: http://frankofile.blogspot.com/

Angela: http://angelarecada.blogspot.com/






These are relative new blogs for me; I'm hoping these writers will not mind being tagged. If you are interested in answering the tag, feel free to follow the instructions. Enjoy.

Visioning a better future.

The Shining Light Award

I bestowed this award to Renee at Circling my Head, a few months ago.

It is time that I choose another receiver.

And for this, I need my friends' suggestions. Please suggest a blog that shines light on a problem or an issue we should all pay attention to. Search high and wide.

Most of the time we move along in our daily routines and know pretty much how the world is getting along too. We read newspapers, watch television, pick up a magazine, surround ourselves with tools to improve our efficiency.

We receive compensation that is sufficient and fair; work in well-lighted, clean and safe environments, and go home to well-appointed rooms, enjoying good meals at the end of the day, in our gardens, among roses and pleasant surroundings. When we are ill, our compensation package picks up the cost of our doctors and nurses and medicines.

We think all children live in warm and nurturing homes; old folks are well cared for in golf-linked residences with lake views; and teenagers will grow out of their angst. All is right with the world.

Let's shine a light on the dark, the hidden, the shamed.

All the world is a stage....

And the props necessary for the production:

The top picture is the award I gave myself, a basket of sticks and old boards. It represents how we look at things in the middle of a crisis. We perceive our world as old and decrepit, full of rusty nails and beaten up driftwood. It is the state of self-pity and broken hearts. Fortunately, that wood can be easily burned in the fireplace.

Then, some good soul comes along and drops a banner at our door. It reads: creative blogger award. Darn, I can't wallow in my misery any longer. I must carry the banner in the house, make room on the coffee table, clear the clutter so this prized symbol can be appreciated and invite others to join in the celebration.

The Creative Blogger Award was joined by The Friendly Blogger Award and the One Lovely Blogger Award. They came at the right time too, between the despair of winter storms, and the splendor of Spring blooms. To the lovely ladies who appeared in my life at just the right moment, thank you.

Six months ago I did not know so many women had such strong hearts, and determined spirit: Cheryl, Angela Regada, Lola, Meredith, Tessa, Karen, Angela from Usedom, Mandy, Linds, Reya, Mary, Sarah Lulu, Lori ann, Fhina, Cherie, Martha, Kikit, Mervat, Shadow, Delwin, Natalie, Renee, Helen, Saretta, Valeria, Valerie, Erin, Janine, Beth, Siobhan, Michel, La Belette, Sallymandy, Boots, Carol, Polly, Edith, Rose Marie, Katherine, Elizabeth, Ribbon, Shadow......and many more with generous hearts and kind words.

I apologize if you do not see your name among those listed.

Some of you follow me regularly; some are followed by me. We see and hear each other in the blogosphere, reading each other's comments. We are celebrating birthdays, anniversaries and all sorts of occasions with each other.

You know me as Lakeviewer. My real name is Rosaria. But the part I play is not to be confused with anybody else. Humans are good at these things; identifying characteristics that differentiate us enough to be remembered. And we are good at working together toward common goals. There are bloggers with vision and passion organizing campaigns everywhere.

These awards are free and available. Take one and all, click and save. You know what to do.

However, the sticks and boards, are strictly seasonal, for another time, another stage.

I've left out the men. On this stage, few men can compete. Those who do, have charm, intelligence, endurance and other appealing qualities. I'll have to dedicate a whole post to you guys, and produce appropriate awards as well.

This stage, unlike those where auditions can be senseless, cruel and depressing, this stage is warm and accepting, and offers equal opportunities. to people across the world. Many languages and cultures are shared through words, pictures, symbols and stories, adding new expressions to our vocabulary, new information to our knowledge pool.

Albeit a global recession, a crisis of confidence, and a collapse of many industries, blogger continues to produce the plays we're all so engaged in.

Now. I need to pop in and see what has been posted last night.

Play On!

Diabetes: Part Two.

I want to thank all of you who left comments on my last post. The facts are frightening and cannot be any clearer: Our quality of life is directly related to the food we ingest, the stress we face, and the amount of exercise we engage in.

Some genetics is involved as well; but we are still in charge of what we do everyday. My ancestors lived simpler lives, some past their eighties and with all their faculties intact, but they had opposite problems: lack of food, too much physical exercise, no chance of relief in their work situation. Those good old days were not so good.

Now we have an abundance of food, availability of work with little or no physical stress, and opportunities for recreation and pharmaceuticals that cure many diseases that used to kill us in childhood.

With all this, we make strange choices. We are smart and well read, and can definitely beat the odds if we realized the consequences of our choices. Remember when we all began to do self breast analysis? That small change, understanding that we are in charge of our own health, has saved us possible problems. If I feel anything unusual, I'm telling.

Medical education is not part of school curricula. We offer a semester or two of general health information squeezed with the physical education curriculum. We can't afford to offer anatomy, physiology and other medical primers.

I am part of the local school board that creates policies and curriculum offerings. We have begun to cut programs to manage our budget. We are not expending moneys we don't have. Yet, more than ever before, we need broad-based and iron-clad policies for all disease control , policies that should be funded at state and national levels, and that reach down and are part of the curriculum at all grade levels.

And for you men reading this, diabetes causes many physiological changes, among which is e.d. We don't need pills to fight the effect of diseases. We need education and pharmaceuticals to fight the occurrence in the first place.

Accommodations.

When we last visited our doctor, yes, hubby and I have the same primary physician, he gave us his diagnosis straight up. Then, he added, "There are millions of Americans walking around with the same disease, and don't know it."
Thanks, that made us feel so much better.

He was talking about Type 2 Diabetes. Elevated blood sugar seems to be a morbid condition that affects many people and they don't know they have it. Once we have this disease, it will slowly get worse. What we can do is to make various changes in our diet and lifestyle to slow down the damage that has already begun. It seems that all organs are now unionized against and no amount of mediation will change their course of action.

The pharmacist was a bit more upbeat, telling us that he too had the disease, but hey, ten years after the initial diagnosis and he still does not have to inject insulin. I gulped, twice. Injections? Oh no! I faint at the sight of needles. When my children had needed shots someone else had to take them to the doctor. When I needed shots, they had to cover my eyes, and then get me supine for an hour or so before I could walk normally again.

We went to classes. We learned about dieting, measuring and reading labels for every spoonful of food we ingest. No more runs to Dairy Queen for a Milk-Shake-Delux. No more pasta, pizza and other steaks to celebrate our golden years. Hubby learned about measuring his blood glucose. My turn will come soon enough, I was told.

So, I cleaned up an entire bathroom for hubby's comfort. We used to brush our teeth together at the end of the day. No more. He has to be alone to do his needling. I moved my make-up and tooth-cleaning components into my bathroom. His bathroom is bigger and has better lighting, and longer counters for all the paraphernalia. I do need to learn about needles though; I'm right behind him, the doctor had said, suggesting I could very well hit the mark as I write this. Then, with all that fainting I'd have to give up blogging.

There is one good part about all this. We are finally on the same page regarding diet and exercise. I don't have to cook two different meals. One can be split and eaten by two. And we need to maintain our muscle tone and expand energy, daily, rain or shine. That treadmill has to come out of the garage and face the television with the rest of the family, and we can save some money and do our own tree and lawn maintenance.

Thank God I still enjoy cooking, or this new accommodation could send me over that watery ramp.

Things you don't learn in school: Bill Gates

This post was created and saved on Tuesday, April 28, 2009. Somehow, I got around to posting it today. It appears chronologically also.

Things you don't learn in school: a speech by Bill Gates.
Bill Gates recently gave a speech at a high school about 11 things students did not and will not learn in school. He talks about how feel-good, politically correct teachings created a generation of kids with no concept of reality and how this concept set them up for failure in the real world.

Rule 1: Life is not fair - get used to it!

Rule 2 : The world won't care about your self-esteem. The world will expect you to accomplish something BEFORE you feel good about yourself.

Rule 3 : You will NOT make $60,000 a year right out of high school. You won't be a vice-president with a car phone until you earn both.

Rule 4 : If you think your teacher is tough, wait till you get a boss.

Rule 5 : Flipping burgers is not beneath your dignity. Your Grandparents had a different word for burger! flipping: they called it opportunity.

Rule 6: If you mess up, it's not your parents' fault, so don't whine about your mistakes, learn from them.

Rule 7: Before you were born, your parents weren't as boring as they are now. They got that way from paying your bills, cleaning your clothes and listening to you talk about how cool you thought you were. So before you save the rain forest from the parasites of your parent's generation, try delousing the closet in your own room.

Rule 8: Your school may have done away with winners and losers, but life HAS NOT. In some schools, they have abolished failing grades and they'll give you as MANY TIMES as you want to get the right answer. This doesn't bear the slightest resemblance to ANYTHING in real life.

Rule 9: Life is not divided into semesters. You don't get summers off and very few employers are interested in helping you FIND YOURSELF. Do that on your own time.

Rule 10: Television is NOT real life. In real life people actually have to leave the coffee shop and go to jobs.

Rule 11: Be nice to nerds. Chances are you'll end up working for one.

If you agree, pass it on. If you can read this - Thank a teacher! Most of all Thank A Veteran for keeping our country free so this can be passed on to someone else.

Thank you Bill Gates for your words of wisdom. As graduation approaches, these rules should be shared with all seniors.


Posted by lakeviewer at 8:40 AM
Labels: Bill Gates's: Things you don't learn in school.

Tomatoes after Mother's Day.

See this dark cover, with a drip watering system, surrounded by tall grass? That's the way we garden here in the Northwest, with a dark poly cover to attract sun rays and to prevent weeds from chocking the tiny seedlings. Onions, lettuces and peas do well here. I can plant them in succession and have fresh salad ingredients for months-that is if I keep picking them fast, not letting them go to seed. Eventually, though, I want those hot, juicy tomatoes the rest of the world craves during summer months.



I have had some success with tomatoes. First, I must make sure to buy the specialized kind that grow well here. I can't just go to Walmart and wheel out with whatever. I must have early-maturing or small-cherry tomatoes. Nothing bigger. Besides the mulching, thermal looking blanket, my tomatoes will also need plenty of compost. The ground is so washed out, leached, that nothing but sand loving grasses grow here.



And one more thing: I must wait until after Mother's Day to plant tomatoes. It seems that the weather gods-ancient Indian rites-and Alaska winds give us a bit of rest after the middle of May through September. I must hurry to the nursery today, pay whatever they ask, and then rush home to plant.



What did I get for Mother's Day? Tomatoes, or the promise of a sloppy bite on a sunny August afternoon, when, for a few days everything turns bright orange or red, and we sit on the deck, the ocean over our shoulders, with a colorful salad of basil, tomatoes and mozzarella.

For Mothers.

A friend of mine shared this reverie for Mother's Day.



"Before I was a Mom."

author unknown


Before I was a Mom, I never tripped over toys or forgot words to a lullaby. I didn ' t worry whether or not my plants were poisonous. I never thought about immunizations.

Before I was a Mom, I had never been puked on. Pooped on. Chewed on. Peed on. I had complete control of my mind and my thoughts. I slept all night.

Before I was a Mom, I never held down a screaming child so doctors could do tests. Or give shots. I never looked into teary eyes and cried. I never got gloriously happy over a simple grin. I never sat up late hours at nigh twatching a baby sleep.


Before I was a Mom, I never held a sleeping baby just because I didn ' t want to put her down. I never felt my heart break into a million pieces when I couldn ' t stop the hurt. I never knew that something so small could affect my life so much.I never knew that I could love someone so much.

I never knew I would love being a Mom.

Before I was a Mom, I didn ' t know the feeling of having my heart outside my body.I didn ' t know how special it could feel to feed a hungry baby. I didn ' t know that bond between a mother and her child. I didn ' t know that something so small could make me feel so important and happy.


Before I was a Mom, I had never gotten up in the middle of the night every 10 minutes to make sure all was okay. I had never known the warmth, the joy, the love, the heartache, the wonderment or the satisfaction of being a Mom. I didn ' t know I was capable of feeling so much, before I was a Mom ."


To all the moms out there: Happy Mother's Day.

Why we write...

This wonderful award arrived a couple of days ago, and just in time for me to rant about blogging again. First, though, I want to thank the bestower, Lizzy Frickfrock, http://wwwfrizzfrock.blogspot.com/
a thoughtful blogger who called me the philosopher.
Thank you Cheryl. I will treasure this and will pass it on at the end of this post.



At about the same time, Sallymandy was questioning herself, questioning if blogging made us 'writers' . This was my response.

lakeviewer said...
I'm late to this conversation, literally. Only after I retired I began indulging my fantasy of writing and sharing my writing with others. I too thought that if I couldn't get published, I should stop writing. I have come to accept a couple of things:








1. if you don't enjoy doing something, and it doesn't need to be done to pay the rent, stop doing it.


2. If you enjoy doing something, even if it difficult and it doesn't sell or give you any compensation, if you enjoy it, do it well, and do it with all your heart. It will still bring you pleasure.


3. Think of all those monks in the Dark Ages, religiously copying manuscripts, adding their illuminated illustrations to break the monotony and to highlight a good story; they were doing what bloggers are doing today: they were passing on the thoughts of civilized people. So, I'm sure that you and I and millions of us are adding illuminated illustrations to the daily events of life that would be unreported, unappreciated.
May 8, 2009 7:52 PM



If you don't know Sallymandy, do visit her at http://www.thebluekimono.blogspot.com/


As for me, every time someone brings up a question , I become wiser, clearer in my pursuit, happier with my modest output, invigorated by knowing I'm not alone here, and I'm not excluded.


There is a big world out-there, caring and supportive, in the business of encouraging all kinds of pursuits; writers at all skill level, and numerous teachers and professionals who share their secrets. For photography, visit David, at http://www.authorblog.blogspot.com/



I'm sharing my life, and I get to enjoy others' as well. Geography was never this easy. Good thing, too, since our dollar doesn't take us too far these days.

About the Friendly Blogger Award, I will need to pause and think about it for another day before I pass it on.

Time to leave the hood!

Today is Cinco de Mayo, a holiday celebrating the results of the Battle of Puebla, not a liberating marker, but still a symbol of the little man fighting the bigger tyrant.

Immigrants bring their own traditions when they move to another place. Mexicans and Mexican Americans have brought the joyful celebration of Cinco de Mayo to many neighborhoods in the Americas.

Though I live in a cool place with constant showers and violent winds, today we will paint our day in rich colors and set a table with margaritas, nachos and guacamole to start the celebration. We will grill some meat, add some hot chiles, warm up some tortillas and ole, we'll be dancing a la folklorico, the hat dance, the tarantula.

I spent decades working in neighborhoods where Spanish was the first language. I got pretty fluent, able to converse with mothers and grandmothers who came to school for different functions. In my youth, I even learned some folklorico, dancing and swaying with a music that is so joyful and alive, it gives you back your soul with a couple of tunes.

If you have a Mexican neighborhood in your city, drop in today. You'll be treated to delicious food, amazing hospitality, and foot stomping music that will chase away any chill in the air.

Ole.

Looking for jobs?

If you are reading this blog, you are adventurous and curious. You have looked at the description, the title and the images, and didn't take flight. I guess you love your grandmother and expect a tidy sum when she passes on. Or you are desperate, and any title with the word Jobs looks attractive. I could have put, girls, girls... or boys, boys... and you would pay attention.

Jobs may have titles that are convenient for that organization, but do not identify what the person actually does. So, if you are a new graduate, or in between professions, you want to concentrate on finding a place where your passion is appreciated. Even if they don't pay you much, you'll have a good time anyway.

Look for industries that appeal to your sense of community, fun, involvement. Knock at their doors and ask if they have internships. It's like dating. You both check each other out. Why, Barack Obama had an internship and look where he is today.

Or ask if they could use volunteers. Volunteering is a great way to get experience.

Look at the brochures that the company is producing. Why? Because brochures distill the company's identity. If they are too slick, too clever, too glittery, the company's identity may be untouchable. They are selling you a fantasy. Ask yourself if that's the life you want too.

Talk to the lowest paid people, the janitors, the errant boy, the security. Ask them about the company, ask them who is retiring, who is transfering. They might know of an opportunity coming up.

Find someone that knows someone. Tell everybody that you'd like to work in.....Go to industry conferences. Read industry's publications. Research and know everything about that industry. Your knowledge may not get you the job, but it will make you more knowledgeable and self assured.

Now, don't forget what got you to this blog in the first place. Your grandmother. Be sure to send her flowers on Mother's Day. (Don't forget your mother, either.) And if you are lucky enough to know other seniors, pal with them. They know a thing or two about work.

Waiting to plant

This is where we hang out most of the time. Right out of view is a deer-proof fence where I grow fruit and vegetables. It is a secret garden, of sorts, hidden by trees and bushes.

Tilled ground with mushroom compost ready to go in the holes.

I could be just sitting here and take in the views. But I have things to do, baby greens to tend.

My back deck is full of starters waiting for permanent homes.

So, today, rain or shine, we're moving down.

It's drizzling, perfect time to do heavy work. Hubby will grumble and complain when I tell him that his help is needed. He doesn't like getting wet or separate himself from his computer.

But you see that clean level ground right by the deer-proof fence? He is responsible for the way it has been prepared. He hired the boy to clear all that. You should have seen the jungle it was.

So, regardless of the weather predictions, today is the day.

Detours: Part Six

I had told Ron I'd try to drop in and listen to his music, but I lied.

I would never go out on a school night. Well, even if the next day would not be a school night. I didn’t do much besides chores and child rearing when my work was done. There was always too much to do, everyday. Ron was a single man and his energy level was different. Men’s energy level doesn’t change after children arrive.

By the time I corrected the rest of the essays, and got the children in bed, all I wanted was a good night’s sleep. I decided to call my husband. He usually called about 8:00, but he hadn’t, or I must have missed his call when I was on the phone with Ron. We didn’t have call waiting, and our answering machine was not working.

He wasn’t there.

Since I was not going to work, I decided the kids could stay home too the next day. We could get up late, go out for breakfast, drive to Griffith Park, ride the horses for a few hours. Or go to the Arboretum and the races.

We could go to the beach.

And with that thought, I curled up on the couch with my favorite blanket, and fell asleep in front of the television. The beach was all I needed to concentrate on, the smell Ron left in my car last Friday afternoon. That, and the smell of roses and lavender. Gardens and beaches. Wide, unspoiled beaches......

I was making my way home on city streets because there was a chemical spill on one of the three freeways I took home, I found myself on Mullholand Drive snaking toward Topanga Canyon where we lived, when a fire in the Encino hills sent me through a neighborhood and a detour I didn’t anticipate.

Smoke, soot and heat disoriented me. By the time I found a shopping center, I had driven twenty miles further west and south, at the end of Mullholand on the Pacific Coast Highway. When I stopped, a sea breeze reoriented me. The Ocean was shimmering across the parking lot.
I sat in the car and let the mist and the breeze wash over me.

I got out and walked for miles on white sands in the moonlight, nobody to bother me, no noise, only waves keeping a beat, washing ashore, cooling my feet, cooling my feet....

An insisting ring woke me. I resisted.

It returned, insistently.

I picked up the phone still groggy, still wanting to return to the cool waters of the Ocean.

“Hon, sorry it’s so late. I had a late meeting.”
“Steve, I had a terrible day. When are you coming home?”

Part six/six

All rights reserved

Detours: Part Five

We were escorted to the main office where the principal looked confused and his secretary couldn't understand why we were out milling in the halls.

“We've been in lockout since lunch.You didn’t hear the special bell? Where have you been?"

"We went to El Tepeyack."

"Just supervise the halls."

Ron, hadn't waited for the answers; I found him talking to the students who had been detained and were now huddled together, big boys, looking quite tame and contrite.It served them right, I thought. Now they can spend some time cooling their heels and stopping the madness. I still didn't know who was watching my class and Ron's.


"We just packed a dozen kids in an ambulance,superficial wounds, I think. It’s up to the police at this point. I’m surprised they let you back on campus.” Severian, one of the counselors at the end of the hall had come up to talk to me and to pull Ron away from the boys.

Ron began arguing with him.

“It was just a food fight. Everybody overreacted! These are kids, for Christ's sake. Kids."

I said nothing, wishing I had not gone out. Lunch fights occurred daily. Ron doesn’t understand these things, I thought. He’ll get himself in trouble and complicate things; police will interpret his concerns as interference.

For the next two hours we walked the halls, Severian and I. Ron had stormed out the front door to talk to the police and hadn't returned. I was probably going to suffer for having left campus without permission. But, I was not bothered by that; I was actually wishing it, somehow, strangely wanting to lose this job for good. Severian told me how the fight went; how many people got stabbed; how the neighborhood would be under surveillance for spill out of this incident. Yeah, I kept thinking, just what I thought; it's best to shut yourself out from all this.

By three, the police had cleared the halls and the principal got on the public address system to announce the all clear. I went back to my room to get my things and found Ron talking to kids.

“I told them to tell the mothers of the boys arrested that I can vouch for them.” He said.
“Do you speak Spanish?” I asked.
“Don’t you?”
“No.”

I drove home bothered by the day's events.

That evening, school was cancelled. There was news coverage on television, and it showed police outside the school, and Ron with them. He had been interviewed about the incident. I called him. He had been contacted by the district, he said. His assignment had been cancelled.

"Oh? I'm sorry. What are going to do?"
"I've plenty to do."

And he told me about his playing at LaVeLee.

"I thought you were a painter?"

"I earn my living through music. We're on the road most of the time. When I'm home I want to do regular stuff, like garden, paint, go to movies. The gig at LaVeLee is with old friends."

"I had pegged you for a rocker."

"I'm mainly a blues guitarist. Why don't you come and hear us play?"

"I'd love to. But the kids will be in bed by then."
"It won't kill them."
"I'm bushed. Aren't you even a bit tired from today?"

"No. I got an idea for a song, actually. Did I tell you some kids called me when they saw me on television?"
"Ron, we're not supposed to give them our number ?"
"Why?"
"Liability. You'll be dragged in the mire. The district has strict rules. Didn't they inservice you?"
"That's a bunch of crap they pass as inservice. First thing they insisted we don't speak Spanish. I can't see how it helps those kids if none of the teachers speak Spanish."

I told him I'd try to drop in and listen to his music.



Part five/six
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