Childhood memorabilia

When we visited my Dad this past weekend, I snooped through the basement of the house where I grew up. Almost every visit turns up something interesting.

Like our old typewriter:



How many of you remember the days of MANUAL typewriters? Note the lack of letters on the keys; I don't remember where we got this typewriter, but I suspect it was once used in a typing course. We used eraser paper instead of a Delete key.

Another relic: a computer game...on TAPE CASSETTE. I think this one belonged to my brother; I was much more into the text adventure games.



I also found a box of old sewing things of my Mom's. Now that I'm sewing myself, I was much more interested. Here's an old tin of sewing supplies, which I suspect Mom must have used as her travel sewing kit:



I also found several jars of colour-sorted buttons, plus a big unsorted button jar. While Jeff helped my father with some computer stuff, I went through the big jar and sorted the rest of buttons to take home and use in my own sewing projects.



Back when I was a teenager, Mom was disappointed that I had no interest in sewing; sewing was one of her passions, after all, and she had so much she could have taught me. I sometimes feel guilty about that now, and regret that I missed that opportunity.

As I picked up each button, I realized that Mom must have handled every one of these buttons as well. Mom's been gone for nearly 20 years, but at that moment I suddenly felt closer to her. Sorting through all those buttons many years later, I could almost feel Mom smiling beside me, happy that all that time she spent on that collection wouldn't be wasted. Mom hated waste.

I also brought home some other sewing supplies, and some unused fabric -- I even recognized some of that fabric from some of the clothes she had made for Jim, Ruth and me. I plan to use Mom's fabric, buttons and some of her other sewing supplies in my own projects.

I think Mom would have been pleased.





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Teachers and teaching (a follow-up) & B5 update

A while back I posted about teaching and teachers, and posted a survey asking people to name a teacher who had the greatest positive impact on your life.

My blog seems to get decent Google juice, so I also mentioned that I was going to compile your answers in one Blatherpost on the off-chance that one or more of your teachers ever Googles for their name. If I've missed any, please let me know!

Here's what you wrote...

From bigbumble:

My 5th grade teacher. Our school had a nifty science cart and he would regularly bring it to our class. Now I help a local fifth grade teacher every year do model rockets in his class. Or as G. Harry Stine used to say, "You can never pay back, you can only pay forward."

From technoshaman:

Hafta say two. My fifth grade teacher, now Dr. Brenda Gulledge... she fed my love of books with a 2000-volume personal library she amassed over the years with the bonus books from the Scholastic program and other donations... and gus. William Augustus Baird was my advisor and mentor at Georgia Tech... taught a bazillion of us frosh right from wrong when it came to computers... the last thing gus ever did was teach us how funerals ought to be. When he passed there was a brief memorial service, and then we all went out back and told gus stories to each other... and after that we found a proper Irish pub and toasted him neat, "the way God intended," as he would've said.

I still miss him.


From smallship1:

John Ellerton. He was a young English teacher who arrived when I was a couple of years into grammar school, and he let me write stories and marked them for me. Unfortunately I don't think I paid any attention to anything he said, because I was a self-absorbed little monster, but the fact of an impartial non-family audience for my writing was important, I think.

From kyrielle:

Jackie Buisman. She was the teacher who ran the Talented & Gifted program at Sherwood during some of the years I was there. I think she was involved in the testing that determined (sort of as a side effect) that I ought to go to the eye doctor, but I'm not sure of that. I know she taught me a lot of interesting, unusual stuff, and taught me to use my brain...and taught me that I wasn't All That or better than anyone else just 'cause I was in the T&G program. Jackie rocked.

From unkbar:

John Rosato, Problems of American Democracy, 1967, Conestoga Senior High School, Grade 12.

Mr. Rosato taught because he loved teaching. He also owned a construction contracting business which is where he made his real money. After school, he'd hop into his pickup truck with the big toolbox in back and head out to see how his construction guys were doing.

At the beginning of the school year (unlike Ontario, our high school ended at grade 12.) he told us, "For a lot of you, this is your last year of school. I'm going to teach you what you need to know to survive."


This was not your ordinary Senior social studies class. We began the year by reading Voltaire's "Candide", and discussing the philosophy of Candide's philosopher companion, Dr. Pangloss, that "All is for the best, in this best of all possible worlds".

Then he taught us about money. A lot of us thought that when our parents needed money, they "just wrote a check". He taught us how banks work, and what credit is all about, with examples from his construction business. "I borrow money to pay my carpenters, and then pay it back when the homeowner pays me.' 'If they dont pay me, I file a lien against their property", and so on.

When income tax time came around, he got piles of tax forms and taught us how to fill them out.

He got subscriptions to Newsweek, and every week we discussed the news of the world.

The greatest thing he taught us was his own philosophy: "Only work". Do what you love, and you'll be happy. If you're an artist at heart, you'll be happier even as a starving artist than as a yuppie banker who hates her job.

I had many teachers in my life, but Mr. Rosato is the one who taught me the lessons that mean the most to me.




From allisona:

The first teacher that came to mind when I read your question was Mr. DiGregorio, my high school music teacher for four years. He taught in a portable in the back of the school and I trooped out there several times a week to learn clarinet in class and also for band practices. In my third and fourth years when I had class spares I'd go to the music portable and sit in on the younger classes and play instruments I hadn't tried before like saxophone and oboe. Being in that music portable with Mr. DiGregorio teaching was one of my favorite places.

From judifilksign:

Dr. Peterson, Talented and Gifted "TAG" program, a red-headed English teacher in high school who taught me it was more than okay for women to be smart.



From smoooom:

I wish that I had a teacher that stood out somehow. A teacher that inspired me, or even noticed me. In many ways I feel like I was just a space filler, and in High School I was nothing. Someday I really hope that a student I have worked with remembers me in a positive way. I've gotten positive things from some students I've worked with. Including a Purple Teddy bear from a young lady who wanted to "be just like you" someday. will she remember me in 30 years? Who knows.

I do remember some really negative teachers, mostly in England, who had a fairly negative effect on how I felt about me for along time. But eventually you have to take control of your own self worth and not worry about ancient teachers who had no idea what an LD was, let alone that O had one (or two)



From merryb-esq

I've actually been fortunate enough to have many wonderful teachers.

Mr. Stewart who, in the 4th grade when I was in a crisis, said "Time takes care of everything," and was so kind. I loved him for it.

The 7th grade teacher - what was his name??!! -- that let all the sci fi geeks stay in his room at lunch and talk about Star Trek so we wouldn't get beat up.

The 6th grade algebra teacher - can't remember his name, but see his face as clear as day -- who would deal with my math phobia with humor. Once I giggled, I could solve anything.


Mr. Burns - science teacher 6th grade. I was devastated when we were discussing "ectomorphs, mesomorphs, and endomorphs" and some kid said I was clearly the latter, because I was "built like a horse." Mr. Burns took me aside to tell me that Sophia Loren was an endomorph, too.

And so many more, including EVERY Spanish and German teacher I ever had, and some professors at the graduate level who were the most gentle, wise, and kind mentors, ever, including especially, Dr. Broderick at USC.

From damedini:



Mrs Strong, kindergarten. She took a kid who came into kindergarten reading well and doing basic math and not only helped me not stick out, she nurtured me. Even though it made her job harder to give me different work and to make it so I wasn't neither bored nor ostracised. Too bad the first first-grade teacher wasn't as wise.

Mrs. Palmer Schumann, grades 4,5,6. She talked to me like I had a clue and explained why I needed to do even the work that bored me, why I couldn't self-direct my learning (by simply ignoring what I didn't care about). She took me from angry, bored and frustrated non-performer (direct result of the first first-grade teacher) to a very good student.


From starmalachite:

Linda Engle Ruff, high school English, who convinced me that yes, I really was smart enough to go to college, and that if I wanted to go, the student grants and loans were out there somewhere. Her exact words were "If you don't go to college, I'll haunt you!" You have, ma'am.

From mdlbear:

I think the only teacher I really appreciated from kindergarten through 12th grade was the Latin teacher in high school who hosted the chess club, and let the bright kids hang out in his room before school. Never had him for a class, and don't remember his name.

My 10th(?) grade history teacher left me with a lasting hatred of the subject.

Had some great professors in college, though.


From patoadam:

My eighth-grade math teacher, Mr. Suber (Arthur G. Suber, I think) inspired me to love math. You know how a teacher is supposed to teach to the middle of the class? Mr. Suber taught to the top of the class. Before Mr. Suber, math was boring, because I can't recall learning anything in math class that I didn't find obvious. In Mr. Suber's class, I listened raptly, not wanting to miss a word. He didn't get into algebra, but he taught us cool stuff like how to extract square and cube roots by hand, how to do arithmetic in arbitrary bases, and how to do proofs in Euclidean geometry.

He once asked the class to simplify the expression

3^x + 3^x + 3^x

I remember this vividly. Obviously it's 3*3^x, but he said that wasn't simple enough.

As I sat there pondering the expression 3*3^x, the exponent 1 appeared in my mind's eye of its own volition above the first 3, at which point the answer 3^(x+1) became obvious.


Of all the computer science professors I took courses from or otherwise got to know, Donald Knuth was the one I revered, for the clarity and accuracy of his textbooks.

Many textbooks in math and theoretical computer science state and prove theorems without attempting to explain how the person who first proved the theorem might have figured out how to prove it. Knuth does a beautiful job of motivating everything, so that in addition to learning proofs of known theorems, and learning about known algorithms in computer programming, you learn how you, too, might prove new theorems or invent better algorithms.

If you are the first person to find any error in Knuth's multi-volume series The Art of Computer Programming, he will pay you $2.56. He doesn't lose much money that way, because people who receive those checks usually frame them.

From debmats:

Mrs. Cleo Lekas - I had her for first and second grade. She taught me how to read and write. =)

Other favorites would be Dr. Gates who taught high school ancient history and Mr. Wagner who taught high school anthropology.



From peteralway:

Dr Marvin Switzer was a veterinarian who taught 9th grade Biology at West Junior high back in, uh, 1975-ish or so. It was my first science class that wasn't just "science." Mr Switzer really appreciated his brighter students, and he really cared about the subject matter in a way that got us chatting about biology after class. I was fascinated by protozoans, and he ordered me some Paramecium caudatum that I took home and cultured over the summer.

From ccrazy:

I'm going to cheat a little here and name a teacher and school librarian.

The Teacher: Miss Mandell, my 11th grade Chemistry teacher, not just because she was an excellent teacher, but also because she helped keep me sane through some of the usual family conflicts that crop up at that age. When you here someone who is 20 or so years older than you are complaining about her mother doing the same things that your mother is doing to make you crazy, it kind of puts things in a little perspective.


As a teacher, if a student came to learn, she'd do everything she could to try and help that student succeed. She also saw her mission as teaching in general, not just teaching her subject. One of the assignment was to read a non-fiction book and do a book report. The book needed to be from a list of 100 or so books she'd vetted as good reads. They were mostly science related, but very few of them had anything to do with Chemistry. Why this assignment? Because the English department focused on fiction and she felt every one should read at least one good non-fiction book before they got out of high school. For the report everyone else in the class has a 3 page minimum and could type or handwrite the report, I had a 3 page maximum and had to type -- she knew me too well, I could easily squeeze a standard 5 page report onto 3 pages in those days and still have it be legible. As will not surprise anyone who knows me, I not only read a book for my report, but I also ready every book on the list.


Miss Mandell was part of one of my favorite high school moments: First day of school my senior year, I was hanging around the teacher's workroom to say hi to various teachers as they came in. When Miss Mandell came in, the two of us walked together from the workroom to her classroom. About 1/2 way to the class room, we passed a group of 5 of my female classmates leaning up against their lockers, all dressed in the same outfit -- blouse (identical), skirt (same cut different colors), 3" heels (identical save the color) -- who were having a loud conversation about the importance of individuality. Well, I looked at Miss Mandell, her eyes met mine, and we both started running for her classroom -- after all, it would be very bad form to start the school year by laughing at the students. We did manage to get the door closed before we completely lost it.

The librarian: Mrs. Meirer, who was the librarian the the elementary school I attended for 4th - 6th grades. She was of the opinion that of there was one kid in the school who could read the book, the book belonged in an elementary school library. She also was an SF fan and happily pointed me at all the SF in the library. She also was an animal lover who in 6th grade was willing to let me hide in the library with the classroom's boa constrictor whenever we had a substitute teacher. This made me and most of the substitutes very happy, the substitutes because they didn't have to cope with having the snake in the classroom and me because I didn't have to cope with my classmates behavior when there was a sub.



From basykes:

Oh that's easy. Sister Mary William was my English and singing teacher in high school. She snagged me at the end of my Freshman year to ask if I would serve as the Sophomore year book editor. She also got me involved in the school newspaper and set in motion a lifetime of writing and graphic design. I often think about what a huge impact she had on my life.

From mbumby:

My 6th grade teacher, for sure. I'll post about her in my own journal once I find what I wrote up a few years ago. Don't want to try to re-create it .

Babylon Five Virgin Update

SPOILER WARNING: The blog below focuses on my reports while watching Babylon Five for the first time. An LJ feed is also available. If you haven't seen B5 yet and don't want spoilers, please DO NOT click below.

Season 4, Episode 71: The Long Night
Season 4, Episode 72: Into The Fire
Episodes 73, 74 and 75: Epiphanies, The Illusion Of Truth, and Atonement
Season 4, Episode 76: Racing Mars

Plus I've posted summary of Babylon Five songs that people have posted about so far. I know I've missed some (Terence has mentioned at least one, for instance), so please do go over and post if you notice missing info, thanks! Please post on the blog instead of in LJ, to ensure that people reading my B5 blog will see it...thanks!



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Sewingtalk

Above: a recent sewing project. I had originally intended it to look like the inset photo, which is a Simplicity pattern (4020). Partway through, however, I realized that I had screwed up majorly, and there was no extra material to try again.

I had actually thrown the partially sewn project into the wastepaper basket, but then changed my mind and decided try salvaging it. I ended up improvising a ton. The collar was going to be a neck facing but before I folded it under, I decided that I liked the collar look.

Because the material is a very soft and stretchy knit, however, the collar wouldn't stay up. I couldn't use regular interfacing because it needed to stretch (so I could get my head through to put the top on) and I wasn't sure when I'd be able to pick up some stretchable interfacing, if there was such a thing...so I decided to cut up a pair of old track pants instead. The track pants had lost their stretch and were also too big for me.

Anyway, I was pleased with how my improvised pattern changes turned out. :-)

Seems like ages since my first sewing project two months ago:



I also just finished the 3-class Beyond Beginners course at Sew Be It Studio Workshop. I enjoyed the course tremendously, and learned a ton from Sam Wyton. During the course, we each brought in our own project and spent the class working independently:



The instructor (on the left in the photo below) took turns with each of us, answering our questions and checking on our progress. Whenever she was explaining something especially interesting, the rest of us would come over to watch and listen.



The studio had an industrial iron, plus lots of sewing machines and sergers. Everywhere you looked, there were sewing supplies and projects in various stages of completion. I dare anyone to step into that studio and NOT feel like sewing. :-)



They even had a studio mascot, Betty:



The owner of the studio, Dilys, found this dog wandering the streets of Toronto. Dilys took her in until the owners could be found. When she had no luck in tracking down the owners, Dilys decided to keep the dog herself and named her Betty. Betty recently appeared in a poster ad for a heavy metal group.

What I also enjoyed: chitchat with the other women in the class. Much of the time would be spent focusing on our own projects, but from time to time there would be small bursts of conversation as we all cut and pinned and sewed. I'm a hermit-type by nature (else I wouldn't be able to survive working in isolation for so many hours from day to day), and I was surprised at how much I enjoyed the camaraderie in that small room.



I'd love to take some of the other courses but scheduling would be a problem, especially during summers. However, they do offer one-day crash courses on specific topics like zippers, so maybe I'll try one of those.

Anyway, here's the dress I made during the three week course:



I had originally made it to wear to Rand's and Erin's wedding, but now I'm thinking it might be too hot for July. I chose a green brocade material, but it's fairly heavy and might be more appropriate for cooler weather. Still, I was pretty happy with how it turned out.

I bought a bolt of black fabric during the Fabricland mega-sale and turned part of it into a backdrop for my clothing pics; Jeff put up hooks in my bookshelf so I can hang the cloth (serged along the edges, of course) whenever I need it. I'm also going to make a lighter coloured backdrop as well.

So here's the pic I took of my beaded butterfly top:



and my upside-down top:



As I mentioned a while back, this was one of my first sewing projects and I accidentally cut the fabric upside down. But, as John Durno pointed out, the pattern looks like right to me when I look down at it. :-)



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Something's living under our house

Mock orange blossoms. One of my favourite fragrances.

Update on my Dad. He was discharged from the hospital yesterday, and is back home; he'll be seeing more specialists in the upcoming weeks. He's feeling much better, though the doctors still weren't able to figure out exactly what happened. We're going to visit with him later today.

Thanks so much for all the advice and support, everyone. It's much appreciated.



So it looks as if something's excavating a home under our house. The hole above was made in the past couple of days, and had a big pile of earth beside it. The hole goes in pretty far. We hadn't noticed until just recently because we've been distracted this past week.

Any ideas? Jeff thinks it might be a rabbit. My theory: a monster-sized squirrel, out for revenge. Anyway, Jeff's put a board over the hole; we'll see what happens now.


SLF = Squirrel Liberation Front.


Speaking of squirrels, I continue to find holes dug in my planters. The photo below doesn't show it very well, but I found a big hole in my peppermint planter, with one of the plants flung cruelly to one side.



It's been raining so much lately that the cayenne pepper has been washing away, leaving my plants vulnerable to the evil vandalistic squirrel-fiends in our neighbourhood.

The squirrels have left my Thai basil alone so far, though:



The ripped leaf is my fault; I tore off a little piece because I wanted to see what it smelled/tasted like.

Very cool to see all kinds of plants I've grown by seed reaching maturity. Now I just have to find some recipes that use Thai basil. :-)



I used some of my garden herbs when I made kisir recently, a salad consisting of bulgur, chopped walnuts, hazelnuts, spring onions, green and red pepper, fresh parsley, mint & dill, dried crush chillies, paprika, cumin, white pepper, olive oil, lemon juice and tomato juice. The recipe is from the Sofra Cookbook: Modern Turkish and Middle Eastern Cookery by Hüseyin Özer, which I discovered through my friend Justin's mother.

I served the kisir on pieces of lettuce, but you can also serve it on pita as well. Yum.

It's been a bit of a stressful week, and I've been finding sewing a therapeutic activity and hugely relaxing. Yesterday I re-threaded my serger just for practice and for the relaxation aspect. I know, I'm weird.

For those with serger fear: I've discovered that the main trick to threading sergers from scratch is to make sure that the lower looper thread is -above- the upper looper thread, else everything gets tangled up and the lower looper thread breaks. It can be frustrating, but I'm finding that the more often I do it, the easier it gets.



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Update

Thanks SO much for all the good wishes, everyone. My dad's in the hospital but is doing fine. He's supposed to have an MRI later today and (hopefully) an echocardiogram. After both tests are done and if he's still feeling okay, Ruth and I can take him home.

I took the photo at the top of the page a couple of hours before I heard about Dad's stroke; I was doing a photo shoot of our friends' baby (SO cute!). You can see additional photos from the shoot in this Flickr set.



After dinner, Ruth called to let me know what happened. Jeff drove me to the hospital so I could keep Dad company in the waiting room. Apparently he had been in the mall earlier in the day when he suddenly got dizzy. He went to see a doctor, who sent him to Emerg after Dad had problems during a cerebellar function test ("touch my finger then your nose, then repeat as fast as you can")...he had no problems with one arm, but did with the other.

I'm not sure what the Emergency ward in U.S. hospitals is like, but here's what basically happened to my Dad:

- Arrived at around 7 pm and after being briefly questioned at Triage, was told wait in the main waiting room, which was packed with unhappy people, some of whom had been waiting 10 hours or more. One fellow in handcuffs arrived with two police escorts; he was whisked in.

- 9 pm: Dad's name was called and he registered, was given a white plastic bracelet with his name and other registration info, asked to go back to the main waiting room.

- 2:45 am (yes, nearly 6 hours later), his name was called again. He was taken to a smaller waiting room.

- 3 am (approx): He was taken into an examination room, where he lay on a stretcher and had his vitals taken. Blood pressure was fine, according to a nurse, and said that a doctor would be coming. I told Dad he should try to get some sleep, so he did. I sat in a nearby chair.

- 4:20 am: The doctor came, looking somewhat harried; apparently he was the only one on the Emergency floor that night. He asked Dad some questions and also had Dad stand up and try walking; Dad had trouble keeping his balance. The doctor told Dad to lie down again and said he wanted to do some more tests.

- ?? (forgot to write the time down): Dad was given an electrocardiogram and take by wheelchair to get a CT Scan. The technician let me sit in the booth while it was being done and I have to admit that despite my worry about Dad, it was VERY COOL to see the procedure and watch as a series of x-rays of Dad's brain appeared on the screen. I was so tempted to take out my camera and get some photos because I knew Dad would love to see them later (I still had my camera because of the baby shoot mentioned earlier) but I was worried that the technician would kick me out; he had already hesitated before letting me come in.



- ??: Dad was wheeled to yet another waiting room, this one smaller than the last. We were both incredibly exhausted by this time, but there was no place to lie down. I was also (once again) wish desperately for reading material. All I had with me when I arrived at the hospital: (1) Small serger handbook, already read several times, and (2) A Drowned Maiden's Hair: A Melodrama by Laura Amy Schlitz, which I had just finished on the subway before going to the photo shoot. I gave the latter book to my Dad, and read and reread and rereread the serger handbook in the various waiting rooms. I also found a child's colouring book in the play corner and kept myself awake by making my own contributions:



- ??: I finally got so desperate for reading material that I started grabbing brochures about the hospital, visitor information leaflets, ANYTHING NEW TO READ. I remember thinking longingly of my huge "to read" pile back at home. I got in the wheelchair and wheeled myself around the small room while Dad dozed off, still holding the book in his lap. I had never tried a wheelchair before; it was far easier to manipulate than I expected. Fortunately no hospital staff came by while I was playing with their equipment.



- 6 am: I assumed that the cafeteria was open and went to get breakfast for Dad and me. By this time, Dad had been in hospital waiting rooms for almost 12 hours, and he hadn't had a meal since lunch the previous day. In my hurry to get back, I didn't read the text on the milk carton closely and when we went to pour milk in the insta-cereal boxes back in the waiting room, I was horrified to see BLUE MILK come out. Turns out I had bought Blue Raspberry Milk! Ugh. We still used it, and it wasn't as bad as we expected. But still. BLUE MILK?

- 6:30 am: Doctor came by and said that although the tests all looked clean, he was concerned by Dad's lack of balance earlier on so wanted the x-ray checked out by a specialist. Unfortunately this meant we would have to wait until the morning staff came in.

- 8:30 am: I called Ruth to let her know what was going on, and she was horrified that Dad and I had been up all night. She arrived soon after to take over my shift so I could go home and get some sleep. I took a GO bus back to Toronto; unfortunately Jeff's car was in the shop so he couldn't come pick me up. Thanks to my dad-in-law for picking me up at the station and buying lunch!

Dad ended up basically waiting in the hospital for at least 16 hours after arriving at Emergency. Even when it was determined he needed to be admitted to the hospital, he had to wait around until a bed was free since all the rooms were booked.

This whole system sounds a bit screwed up to me. It's not the staff's fault; the doctor and nurses I saw were all working as hard as they could...there just weren't enough of them.

What's happening now...

The specialist told us that Dad probably had a small stroke or a series of mini-strokes. Dad's still in the hospital (in a shared room), and has an MRI scheduled for this afternoon. He also needs to get an echocardiogram...hopefully this can also be scheduled for today, so he can come home. Fingers crossed!

And again, THANK YOU so much for all your e-mails and good wishes.



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