Lesson 84: Luke Bryan Knows It

Eloise has yet another summer concert under my belt.  After reviewing the list of recent concerts I've attended, I should wear a buckle on it like this:
I've gone to several country themed concerts this year:  Rascal Flatts, Tim McGraw, American Idol (which had lots of country flavor this year), and on Tuesday night, Luke Bryan.  I'm far from a country girl though as many would see it when I sport my pink fingernails and high heeled shoes.  I'm scared to death of horses and I constantly dis the south on this blog.  However it's the west that calls me to trade in my wobbly heels for the more sturdy cowboy boot kind.  Western cowboys on those big fat ranches are intriguing.  My dad's brother lives in Colorado and I can only recall seeing him a few times in my life.  I asked him once why he moved from Pennsylvania to Colorado and I remember him saying, "the west called my name."  I kind of get that.

As a mom and a teacher I am constantly surrounded by people, usually those under the age of 12.  My days are busy and filled with the questions and excitement that children foster.  When I have some private time, I do long to be by myself, particularly outside.  I love the vastness of being alone in nature with only it surrounding me.  It's peaceful.  All those cowboys on those western ranches must think the same way when they look to the mountains or the skies.  I am sure they appreciate the beauty of nature.

The picture movie above was created with snapshots I gathered on lots of those private moments I took advantage of on my long jogs this summer.  You'll see all my favorites:  deer, water, and skies.  The best one is of the fawn I came across in Cook's Forest a few weeks ago.  She's a beauty.  I set the photos in motion to Luke Bryan's song, I Knew You That Way, one of my current favorites.

Country songs have caught hold of old Eloise this year.  I love them because they tell stories, and this one tells a beautiful one.  The lyrics in the beginning really grabbed me the way Luke sings about nature:
The secret way long shadows bleed into the night.
The desperate way leaves in the fall hold colors tight.
The way that thunder knows the taste of summer rain.
I knew you that way.
The way cool mountain waters, dance down to the sea.
Bound by something strong, but still so wild and free.
It gives into the passion of the path it takes.
I knew you that way.


I am no poet, nor have I ever claimed to be, but I do love the way Luke Bryan put those words together to describe nature; shadows bleed and thunder tastes rain.  And if you are wondering, yes, Luke Bryan did write the song.  I checked.

That's how you know if your singer is the real deal--do they actually write the music and the lyrics along with singing the songs?  My curiosity led me to find out a little more about this country singer/songwriter.  He is a Georgian in his mid 30's who is on the road to stardom.  You can tell he's Georgian (as in USA Georgia, not Soviet Georgia, Slovenians) because he sings about peanuts and tractors and trucks.  Luke Bryan's new album Tailgates and Tan Lines was the top selling country album in the US last week, verifying that the consensus is in--Americans like those things, too.  I believe that someday I am going to say, "I saw Luke Bryan for 25 bucks at the county fair."  He's written songs for Billy Currington and Travis Tritt.  That got Eloise a-thinkin'--wondering why a good looking guy such as himself, who could sing so well, spend lots of his career writing songs for other people and not take the show on the road himself.  When you read his bio, it  says that his career was waylaid a couple of times by the deaths of his siblings; a 39 year old sister, and a brother only a few years older than Luke.  With losses of that magnitude one can understand why Luke's getting a bit of a late start by some people's standards. Perhaps that is part of the reason Luke Bryan writes and sings with such emotion.

I love Luke's story and I love that he writes the songs he sings, but most of all it's that ACCENT that gets to me.  That heavy, southern one that drags out the vowel sounds and mixes up short i's and short e's.  It makes me want to sit next to him on a squeaky swing on some big, wide, Georgia front porch that over looks a peanut farm and have him read me a bedtime story.  You'll hear it when you listen to the song--it's part of its appeal.

This post is actually a two-part post.  Read this one and also Lesson #83:  Accents are Cool.  They go together just like the way teardrops know the words to Amazing Grace.


Enjoy the song, Y'all,
Eloise

Lesson 83: Accents are Cool

I have always said that I am a sucker for a guy in a uniform.  It could be anything ranging from a football jersey to dress blues and Mr. Handsome has already caught my attention.  It's the same for me with accents.  They fascinate me.  When I am speaking with someone with an accent, be it foreign or just a regional American one, I get lost in it.  I have to fight hard to concentrate on WHAT the person is saying, not HOW they are saying it.  We came across a clerk in a souvenir shop in Cook's Forest this summer with a heavy British accent---not one I was expecting.  She was pleasant and chatty and I found myself asking her questions just to keep her talking.  I had to fight the urge to crawl up in her lap and have her read me a fairy tale.

But this chick on the above video is unbelievable.  Seattle actress and singer Amy Walker is simply quite amazing.  Watch this video and if you are further intrigued, you can find her with an easy Internet search. You'll come across her Today Show interview with Matt and Meredith that is very entertaining.  One of my favorites though is another youtube post called Yes-Amy Walker.  This shows you what an excellent actress she is, however the comments below the youtube post aren't all appropriate for my younger readers.  Above school-aged people, check it out and read some of the comments below it.  Some praise her, some say she's scary, and a few made me laugh right out loud, which rarely happens.

Auf Widerhoren, (Goodbye in German)
Eloise

Lesson 82: We Are Penn State

Recognize this photo above?  This is Ellen's Pop Art Era mural from my last blog.  I asked you in the photo movie if you could figure out what it says.  If you are like my mother and haven't figured out how to pause the slide to study it closer, and had to watch the entire show the whole time through, then you most likely gave up.  Here it is again in still form.  Take a minute and see if you can read the message.........................................................................................................................................................................................................................you see some of the letters form words....................................me.........ron.....................oh, wait---there's jersey.....................no, it's not about the state of New Jersey, Slovenians.  I hate that state.  Had a rough vacation there once---3 kids, one autistic, another 16 months old and not walking, and a hubby in a leg cast----let's not revisit that.......................................most.................one....................back........................OK, do you give up?

You read the message from top to bottom, left to right.  When you do, it reads:  It's the name on the front of the jersey that matters most not the one on the back   

The quote is from the legendary Joe Paterno, head football coach of the Penn State Nittany Lions since 1966.  I have loved that quote since I heard it years ago.  Yes, I am aware it is missing an apostrophe in the opening contraction.  Now don't get your underwear in a bunch over it, Critics.  It simply didn't fit in our 8 by 8 grid.  You can come to my house and put one in with white out if you feel like climbing a ladder.  This mural on canvas (featured in blog #81--I Like It) hangs in my garage.

Coach Paterno spoke these words in reference to the fact that Penn State football players do not wear their last names on the back of their very plain navy blue or white jerseys, probably the most boring shirts in the league.  It is the team philosophy that playing football is just that--about a team.  Individual players rise to stardom, no doubt, but the scouts have to work a little bit harder to remember their names.  What is important is that they play together for Penn State, one of the finest universities in our country, notably for agricultural studies.  

The montage at the beginning of this post gives you a nice 3 minute glimpse into the 50 year career of Joe Paterno.  Coach Paterno will turn 85 this December and is all set to begin this season as Penn State's head coach once again.  Joe took a bad hit by one of the players in a practice a few weeks ago.  At the bottom of this blog, I attached an article from the August 12th issue of Sports News out of State College, PA.  It is funny, so if your eyes aren't too taxed after reading my words, you can read some accounts of this year's players.  They are in blue.  Thank you to my nephew Chris for sending me this link.

More and more students are applying to Penn State in recent years.  Some have suspected that they are doing so because of the extra attention the university gets because of Joe Paterno himself.  Will he return to coach?  Can they snag another National Championship under his reign?  Will he ever retire or hold the position until his death?  

We have to bottles of Nittany Lion wine waiting in our basement for both of those things to happen, hopefully one before the other.  One we will open to celebrate the National Champion victory, and the other we will open to toast Joe's admirable career.

I've read lots about Joe Paterno in recent years.  All reports generally carry the same themes--that he is a tough nosed coach who speaks the truth in plain language.  Just like the jerseys, there are no frills or fluff about him; a "what you see is what you get" kind of guy.  From what I've read, his dedication and loyalty extends to his wife Sue and their five children.  I understand that they still live in a simple ranch house in Happy Valley and he gives much of his coaching salary back to the university.  Eloise likes this.  I wish I had that little thumbs up facebook thingy to put on right here.

Maybe one of these three will wear Penn State on their fronts someday.

They are all smart, so it is a possibility.  There is a Penn State branch campus 3 miles from my house, and that sure seems like a good place to start.  Sam's leash could reach that long and it would give me a little more sleep knowing he was close by.

I know my limits as a parent though.  I can't choose their futures for them, but I can try to steer them in the right direction.  Wearing Penn State lion attire and making murals of motivating quotes is a good starting place to get something good into their heads, don't you think?  From now until that time that seems to be fast approaching---post high school--I can only reiterate what Coach Paterno says, but in my Eloise sort of way.  It isn't so much about what the name reads on your back.  I have many:  my birth name, my married name, my pen name, and most recently "Cheer Mom."  It is what I wear on the front that matters most, and this is what I wear, and it speaks volumes without uttering a single word:

 And one day, when and if Sam ever applies to Penn State, I can only hope that the admissions people remember this, because sometimes the name on the back speaks volumes, too:

As for Ellen and her daddy, what they display on their backs means something too.  Hubby hopes that he has actual reason to wear his smurf-like wardrobe---perhaps there will be an alumni among us one day.  For dear, sweet Ellen, I believe the quote is more about surviving life with her little brother than the LeBoeuf All Star Softball Tournament that she played in to earn this t-shirt.

Don't forget to read the article below.  An extra assignment on a beautiful summer day I know, but it is quite good.
Looking forward to a great year on the gridiron.  We are.......................Penn State!
Eloise

Penn State Players All Worried They're Going To Be The One Who Accidentally Kills Joe Paterno

AUGUST 12, 2011 | ISSUE 47•33  From SPORTS NEWS

STATE COLLEGE, PA—Hospitalized after a receiver crashed into him on the field last Sunday, Joe Paterno’s return to practice Wednesday came as a vast relief to Penn State players, all of whom live in constant fear of being the one who inevitably kills the 84-year-old head coach.

“Every day we go to the field worried about which one of us will accidentally bump into Coach, cause his entire body to fall apart, and kill him,” senior defensive end Jack Crawford said. “There’s no doubt we are going to be the ones responsible for his death. That’s inevitable. It’s just a question of who and when."

“At this point, it’s part of the Happy Valley tradition," Crawford added. "No names on the jerseys, ringing the victory bell, and being very, very careful not to be the reason Coach Paterno dies."

Paterno, who suffered minor fractures during Sunday’s accident, also had his leg broken during a 2006 game against Wisconsin and injured himself in a 2008 practice while demonstrating an onside kick. In fact, Nittany Lions players and coaches confirmed, Paterno has been close to death an average of once a week for the past 30 years.

"His heart and lungs actually first stopped functioning for a few minutes when Alabama upset Penn State in the 1979 Sugar Bowl," Penn State athletic director Timothy Curley said. "And I estimate about 13 times since then. For God's sake, don't tell him, but after that kid ran into him Sunday, Coach Paterno was clinically dead for five minutes."

Paterno has been a constant presence at practices during his entire 46-season tenure as head coach, and in recent years, players have developed special procedures to minimize the risk of inadvertently killing him. According to team sources, the Nittany Lions offense runs plays away from the fragile, ancient coach, and any ballcarrier who finds himself within 10 yards of Paterno is expected to stumble harmlessly to the turf.

In addition, Penn State has reportedly managed not to practice punts or kickoffs in Paterno's presence since 1996, when the then 70-year-old Paterno was lightly grazed by a member of the return team and had to be rushed to a hospital, where a cardiothoracic surgeon massaged his heart for 30 minutes.

"Every game, every quarter, every down, I’m terrified I might be the one who kills Joe Paterno," said junior wideout Curtis Drake, who now refuses to run sideline routes. "It’s not just playing football, either. The tough part is all the little things, like staying 3 feet from him when he's talking so you don't use up all the oxygen in the air, and making sure he's not standing in your shadow, where he could get cold.”

“There are just so many ways we could potentially kill this man,” Drake added.

Team sources said that while it may not be obvious to the casual observer, the entire Penn State sideline has for decades been more committed to preserving Paterno's tenuous hold on life than to winning football games.

"Of course, we hate to lose, because Coach could take it too hard and die,” sophomore quarterback Paul Jones said. “But we can't win by too much, either, because then he could get too excited and die. We also can’t not hustle or play hard, because then he might get angry and die. So basically our game plan is to establish an eight-point cushion and keep it there, easy does it, no drama."

"And if we do win, absolutely no dumping Gatorade over Coach Paterno," Jones added. "I mean, are you fucking kidding me? He'd fall apart like a stewed chicken."

While Penn State sources admitted the team's focus on preserving the delicate health of their octogenarian coach has somewhat limited their football program, all agreed that at this point Paterno's presence on the sidelines means more to the school than winning games.

"Joe Paterno is a national treasure, and as far as I’m concerned, he can coach as long as he wants,” Penn State president Graham Spanier told reporters. “I mean, without Penn State, the man would drop dead in a second, and I’m certainly not going to be the one to kill him.”

Lesson 81: Everyone is an Artist

Miss me?  I betcha did.  It's been a week between posts, I know.  I got some of your e-mails, but I didn't respond.  No, I wasn't on some fantastic get away vacation.  I was home tending the Lamp Post.  I had a couple of things cooking this week, but I made it up to you with this nice picture movie set to Enrique Iglesias's I Like It.  The movie shows some of my favorite art projects of my children Natalie, Ellen, and Sam.

One of the things that was keeping me busy was Operation Clean Sweep--a hard core clean up of the house at the end of summer.  I go through the place with a vengeance several times a year, but it is the end of the summer when it gets hit the hardest.  My poor house takes some wear and tear with all five of us home all summer long.  Everything felt sticky and grimy and I couldn't stand it one more minute.  I put posters around the house warning everyone when it was about to begin.  "If it is not nailed down or seems to no longer have any value, kiss it goodbye!"  An issuance such as this strikes the fear of God in any child and mine run for their rooms clutching their favorite belongings.  I did an area of the house a day for a solid week, saving The Lamp Post for very last.  I just finished it two hours ago and so here I sit in the gleam of my defingerprinted computer screen, inhaling the lingering scent of Murphy's Oil Soap.

Another reason for my delay is that I was suffering from yet another loss on a personal level.  I broke my camera.  Killed it actually.  Death by drowning.  Accidental of course, but she took a float down some creek in Cook's Forest a couple of weeks ago.  If you are wondering, cameras do float.  Trust me.  Don't test it for yourself or your good friend will die.  How did it happen, you ask?  How did a woman of my fortitude become so careless with a piece of equipment she held so dear?  Let me spell it for you in three little letters:  S-A-M.  

 This is the last photo I took on my Panasonic Lumix camera--a darn good machine that came through for me time after time for three years.  We were at the Ranger Station in Cook's Forest and Sam was hanging on a bridge.  I loved the look of the creek behind him and stopped for a moment along the creek bank to snag a couple of shots.  I was looking through my view finder when I saw the long dark object fly into the gap you see in his shirt under his right arm pit.  It was a wasp.  I big black one.  I saw his face change from that look you see there, to surprise, to agony, all in about three seconds.  I knew Sam suffered his first bee sting and I knew it was a humdinger of a sting--I guess we could call that a buzzdinger.

I've been very honest on this blog about the often volatile relationship between my son and I.  I love my boy with all of my heart, but I'll be the first to admit he's been a challenge to raise, far harder than both of my girls. My actions should prove to you that I am, in fact, a good mother who loves her only son dearly, no matter how you may have interpreted some of my past posts.  In order to come to Sam's rescue I had to drop my camera and make a run for it.  I set it on the edge of the creek bank and hoped for the best, while I took off after Sam, who in turn, tried to flee the pain at top speed.  Try chasing a four year old in pain wearing a pair of flip flops.  As I took off, out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw my camera take a tumble down the bank.  I managed to catch Sam, rip off his shirt, and put him in a barrel hold to take him down to the creek bank to slap some Pennsylvania creek mud on the welt.  That sucker was the size of a half dollar within 30 seconds.  While Sam howled, I did a quick survey of the grassy area and found no camera.  I scrunched my eyes tight and turned to face the creek.  I slowly opened one eye to see what I had hoped I wouldn't see---my Lumix floating away.

I waded out and managed to save her in time to save the camera card.  My pictures from the trip were not ruined.  Poor Lumix was demoralized--I shook her and opened every door and window, exposing every hidden little crevice she had.  I blow dried her, put her in a bag of rice, and set her on my air conditioner to dry out for two weeks, never losing the hope that she would become an Internet legend and survive the fall.  All the wishing in the world didn't work--no luck.  She was gone.

The Niagara Falls pictures from my last blog were actually taken with Ellen's little camera, a hot pink number--called a Cool Pix, kind of designed for kids.  Not a bad camera for a hundred bucker from Wal-Mart.  I highly recommend it for the casual photographer.  I tried to make due with this camera for a week or two, but it just wasn't the same.  I missed the feel of my big lens and all of the neat settings I could use.  I knew I needed to bite the bullet and get another one.

Pictured here is my old friend the Lumix with my new camera I named Pinocchio because his nose grows (I'm a girl who likes her close ups).  I put them nose to nose for a bit so they could talk to one another.  I heard Lumix say to Pinocchio--Good luck, she'll love you, but she'll be hard on you.  I wasn't offended because that is how I am with all of my things.  I use what I love to death.  I run holes through my Asics and I still have my favorite Edinboro t-shirt from 1990, albeit bleach stained and worn thin with age.  (Did you hear that?  That is my sister calling What Not To Wear to do a clothes closet intervention).  Sorry, Sis.  The sneakers and t-shirts are staying.  Readers, remind me to wear them to the next family get together just to get her goat.  Again Slovenians, Karen really doesn't have a goat.  If you knew her, she's not the goat type.  It just means I am playfully trying to provoke her.  I do that every once in awhile.

I always dreamed of being an artist, but God didn't give me too much talent with a paintbrush, so it didn't work out.  My hopes were also dashed when I grew to be 5'8" by sixth grade, so I had to X "Olympic Gymnast" and "Pairs Figure Skater" off my list too.  But God did give me the ability to write and instilled a love of photography in me.  Pairing my two loves on this blog is a way I can share my form of art with you.

This past school year, I worked with my friend and colleague Jan on the elementary art shows in our school district.  Jan saves the best pieces from all of her students all year long and displays them at the end of the year in the evening, so families can share the beauty and innocence of childrens' art work.  My students and I helped out by adding "living history docents" who dressed in period attire and were able to tell visitors the high points of a particular art period.

Pictured here is Ellen dressed as one of the Greeks.  I had to choose her for that period because there were just plain too many nude sculptures for a kid to be assigned that art period for independent research.  She did just fine with Mother Eloise in a chair pulled up next to her at the computer.  It took a little convincing for a couple of the boys to wear knickers and tights like the artists of the Renaissance, but they came through for me. Bribe a sixth grader with "pre-show pizza party" and you can get them to do just about anything.

The shows were quite a success, but as with anything, it was not the big event that meant the most.  It was the journey I took to get there.  I love art, but I am no connoisseur, that's for sure.  I had to do a crash course in art history on a long weekend before I could plan lessons for my students.  Here is some of what I learned:

This is a Picasso, and it resembles me after a hard day with Sam.

This is DiVinci's The Last Supper--a beauty to last through the ages.

This is Van Gogh's Starry night, which is Ellen's favorite painting.

This is "Black Square" by a Russian named Malevich.  For real.

This is an Andy Warhol.  The kids love this type of art.

This is a Monet, titled Sunrise.  That's Eloise in the boat.  Peaceful.

This is a Jackson Pollock.  He's the paint splatter guy.


This is a Sam LaFuria on a little number he titled The Worm Woke Up the Cat.  The kind and good preschool teachers are nice enough to write on the titles the children give to their pieces of art.  Thankfully this is just one in a series of three.  You will see the other two on the picture movie.  One is titled "A Frog Riding a Helicopter" and the other is creatively called "A Cow Mooing."  Don't flood me with telephone calls with purchase offers through.  These are keepers.  All mine.

This is Natalie's finest 3-D art project--her birdhouse from Wood Manufacturing.  We have the most well fed birds on our street.  She feeds them every single day.

And this little beauty is an Eloise Hawking original--one I captured on Pinocchio's maiden voyage on August 11th.  I was near water and I made sure I hung the strap around my neck.  I didn't doctor this at all.  The sky really looked like this Thursday evening.  This, my friends, is what a quality camera can capture for you.  I was as happy as Sam was with that splash when I pressed the view back button.

It doesn't matter if you make a birdhouse, mold some clay, paint a picture or snap one.  What matters is that you take a moment to see the beauty in something.  I don't care if the composition isn't quite right on the photo or if it needs to be darkened. All I care about is that I like it.  My artist friend Jan taught me one of the most important lessons I've learned so far:  Everyone is an artist.  It's just that simple.  Now get busy and go find your art and don't be afraid to share it with others.

Until next time,
Eloise

Lesson 80: #3--The River

I can shoot two birds with one stone on this blog post.  To clear up any misconceptions--"shoot" as in with my camera, not "shoot" as in bang-crash-pull the feathers off-digest.  Slovenians, "to (kill--don't like using that harsh word, so I replaced it with shoot) two birds with one stone" is  an expression Americans use for resolving two things with a single action.  Therefore I can tell you about my recent sightseeing excursion and tell you about my #3 favorite song of all time, all on one blog post.  Yeah!  I'm all for efficiency.

We went to Niagara Falls this week.  My kids had never been there so it was high time (or high water, rather) that I took them for a little day trip, and so we went.  As with anything, I am always searching for the teachable moment.  It always helps to do a little prep work before you go somewhere new.  I could care less about computerized car navigators and such.  I hate that annoying voice squawking at me.  It distracts me more than it helps me navigate and I find myself arguing aloud with the machine.  It's like having a backseat driver bossing you around from the windshield.  Plus, our navigator was a man named "Richard" and had a British accent for awhile until I changed the setting.  The last thing a person wants is a foreigner telling you where to go in your own country.  I prefer maps.  If you have yourself a map and are wise enough to know that being lost is only a temporary thing, then you are good to go.  When I mean prep work--I mean history--like history of the area and finding out a little about what you are going to see before you get there.  "Building prior knowledge" is what we teachers call it.

On the two hour drive up, I read to them aloud all of the information I found on Niagara Falls--some geography stuff, but mostly the interesting stories and legends of the falls.  Mind you, Natalie has autism and I'm not sure how in to history she is.  I did put TLC's song Don't Go Chasing Waterfalls on her iPod for her though. Sam was wrestling Triple H and the Undertaker in the backseat, and Ellen looked, well,  pained.  Nevertheless I kept at it, commenting on the tightrope walker, the kid and his sister who fell out of the motor boat in 1961, and the beautiful Indian princess who decided to chance her luck with the spirits and take a ride over the edge in a canoe rather than marry the old, toothless, smelly member of the tribe.  All were good stories in their own rights, but it was the one about the teacher, Annie Taylor, who was the first to willingly take a trip over the falls in a wooden barrel with her cat in tow that  really seemed to spark the imaginations of all three of my children.



Annie Taylor was a 63 year old school teacher from Michigan that took her famous ride in 1901.  I am guessing that she was unmarried and had no children, as did most teachers of that time period.  The articles I've read on her thus far just tell about her stunt--not so much as to WHY she did such a thing.  What would possess a woman to willingly take a joyride over the falls?  I know.  Spend your lifetime in a one room school house filled with children ranging in age from 5 to 16, and have virtually no materials to work with--just some hard benches and some slates.  That is sure to drive any sane person around the bend.  Go ahead, Pennsylvania Governor--keep on taking away all the education money and there are going to be a few more joyriders, but this time they will be a bunch of teachers from Pennsylvania heading over in tandem.  A barrel ride over a 100 foot drop--sounds like a party, doesn't it?  I am sure the kids drove her to it.  I wish I knew what their reactions were when word worked its way back to Michigan:  "Hey, did you hear Miss Taylor sailed over Niagara Falls in a wine barrel?"  I know those little dickens were thinking--"before or after she drank all of the wine."

My three little dickens made the following comments about the story:
Ellen:  Are you ever going to try that, Mom?---I'm too tall to fit in that barrel--no way.
Sam:  Did the cat live or die?----lived
Natalie:  No boat.-----You just have to wonder if she thought we were going to stuff HER in a barrel.

You will see on the movie, set to my number 3 favorite song of all time, Garth Brooks's song The River, some  great shots of the Niagara River as well as of my kids.  It was a fun day for everyone.  We still travel with an umbrella stroller, so we didn't do all of the attractions as they prove to be a little much for Sam yet.  We did manage to walk over to Goat Island (my favorite part), eat lunch at the Hard Rock Cafe (the last slide shows the outside wall of the restaurant), and find some geocaches.  We found a $5 t-shirt shop and the girls were happy as could be.  The shot of Ellen in her $5 t-shirt sporting a pair of cut offs made me realize she's a lot more like me than I originally thought.  No Maid of the Mist ride for us.  I was happy to take shots of her from up above on the observation deck.  Natalie kept looking down and saying over and over again, "No boat" in her flat, monotone voice.  Me neither, child.  Don't worry.

I discovered something interesting on my search for information about the falls.  Back in the recesses of my tired brain, I remembered hearing somewhere that it was one of the 7 Wonders of the World.  Google that one if you want an interesting read.  Come to find out there are LOTS of wonders of the world:  7 Natural Wonders of the World, Wonders of the Modern World, Wonders of the Ancient World.  Read the list.  It is sure to leave you with lots of things to wonder about.  Our good old Niagara Falls is considered one of the 7 FORGOTTEN Natural Wonders of the World.  What the heck are Forgotten Wonders?  I did a little more searching and it seems that there are 7 Wof the W and 7 Forgotten W of the W.  Weird.  Victoria Falls beat out Niagara Falls, bumping it to the forgotten list.

Canadians must have been pissed about this, because I see that in 2007 they came up with their own contest for the 7 Wonders of the Canadian World.  People could submit nominations and some committee made up of their broadcasters in the CBC came up with a short list.  Their citizens were allowed to vote on-line to determine which they liked best (so the Pepsi people are copycats.......).  Niagara Falls came in an #2, thumbing its nose at Victoria Falls.  Victoria Falls, Slovenians, is  another big waterfall that divides the border between Zambia and Zimbabwe in Africa.  Don't get excited.  I am sure you get the catalog even in Slovenia--but that is Victoria's Secret.  Two different things.

Thinking of all of these lists of things makes me want to create my own list---like The Seven Wonders of Eloise's World.  I will surely spend some time thinking about what would be on my new list.  But for now I still have just two lists of favorites: songs and books.  We are working our way up to my #1 favorite song, but today, we stop at #3 on our climb---The River.  I found this song in the early 90's when I was sailing my vessel through this strange time in my life I call "college."  That time in between high school and full maturity is hard for anyone, no matter what route you take through life; college, military, or work.  For me it was college. I was tied to my dock for awhile until I earned my teaching degree.  After four years of test taking and hoop jumping I was finally mature enough to do something with all that knowledge and set out to find a job.  I knew my destination, but I wasn't quite sure at the time how I was going to get there.  I heard this song and used to sing it all of the time.  I still love it today and sing it to the wildlife on my long runs, thinking about my new dreams for my future.  It's comforting to me and has remained with me for nearly 20 years, so it has earned its rightful position at #3.

Any dream is just like that.  A dream is just like a river, ever changing as it flows.  Sometimes people are lucky enough to achieve their dreams early in life, and for others dreams are a thing set far off in the distant future.  If you are lucky enough to find your dream sooner in life rather than later, then pick a new one and set sail again.  Just don't stop and sit upon the shoreline.  Keep sailing.  You have lots of living and dreaming to do.  For others dreams are so far off that you feel like giving up.  But I tell you, don't, because your dream is  just around the bend, so keep on sailing.  With some faith you'll eventually get there, in God's time.  Trust Him.  He knows when.  So whether you find yourself in the still waters barely moving or are chancing the rapids, hold on tight and pray that everything turns out all right.  If you make the Good Lord your captain, as per the suggestion of good old Garth, you'll make it through all those rough spots.  I believe that and hope that you do, too.

Happy sailing, but a word to the wise: if you are ever sailing on the Niagara River, heed the signs--especially the ones that say No Boats Beyond This Point, Rough Waters Ahead.  They aren't kidding.

Captian Eloise

 

Lesson 79: Doing Good 101

Look at what the power of a small population, dedicated to a great cause can do!  My daughter's school, and one that I am proud to say I am a faculty member of, won a $10,000 grant for the Pepsi Refresh Contest.  We not only won the grant, but came in at the #1 spot and snagged the MOST VOTES IN THE NATION!!!  The slogan for this contest is "Doing Good: 101."



 I think nowadays everyone needs a reminder of how to do that--to "do good".  That is why Pepsi came up with this brainchild---granting money to noble causes.  Pepsi giving back--and I like it.  All you had to do was make a video about your cause, telling what it was and why it deserved some funding.  Finalists were chosen from the submissions, and the public got to vote for their favorite ideas.  According to the website, Pepsi will fund more than just one idea---many causes will get some backing from this project.   Spread the wealth--Eloise likes this, too.  Good job, Pepsi.  That certainly was a great idea even though your pop formula stinks ("pop" Slovenians, is a slang term Pennsylvanians use to describe soda).  Your drink is sugary, tastes flat, and I would opt to drink a Tab Diet Cola over your concoction any day  (Eloise is a loyal Coke addict--and that is Coca COLA, Slovenians--the kind you drink, not the kind you snort).


Finalists were chosen, and our school was notified we were one of the finalists earlier this summer.  Out of a nationwide contest, that alone was noteworthy.  Voting began in July, and people could vote via the Pepsi Refresh website or through texts.  Pepsi, although charitable in this measure, are still in business just the same.  You could gain more votes from purchasing cases of Pepsi and submitting the code for bonus votes.  Genius.  Moms and teachers were on a mission.  We enlisted our tech savvy children as our little army, and we so began pestering people to vote on July 1st.  Never underestimate the power of the PTO.

For 31 long days we kept at it---the barrage of texts, e-mails, facebook posts, and just plain old begging people to vote for us.  We used themes ranging from "Come on, we can do it!---it's for the kids!" to "didn't vote today?--bet you feel guilty--how can you live with yourself?--go vote a be absolved."  OK--I'll admit--the messages of the former tone were issued by my boss Donna, and the latter were from Eloise.  We always need a cheerleader, buy hey, guilt works well sometimes, too.



For all of you who followed this cause on facebook--thank you for voting.  To Pepsi, thank you for sponsoring this contest.  Take a minute to watch the video to see what we were granted.  It would be no fun for me to just tell you--I'm making you do a little work on your own.  I can't help it--I'm a teacher.  You will see my daughter's class about the 25 second mark.  She's the tall one in the back (takes after her mommy).  The articulate boy who is first to speak on camera is one of my students.  Undoubtedly on the path to do something grand with his own life someday, I am glad he was chosen as a speaker.  He is the son of a set of high school era friends and is a dead ringer for his dad.  It's neat to see things come full circle like this.  It is one of the many blessings I receive from being a teacher in the school that I went to as a child.  It is a reminder that time really does pass quickly and we need to "cherish the day" when it is upon us.  They go by in a blink.

So the message I leave you all with today is this:



You don't need to give $10,000 away to do it either.  Surprise your neighbor and mow his lawn, throw some bills into a donation container instead of change for a change, or read to a child.  As Pepsi reminds us--Do Some Good.  Too bad Coke didn't think of that.

Snap!  Did you hear that?  That was Eloise opening up a long overdue Coca Cola in its shiny red can.  I've neglected her for a month.  I got some catching up to do.

Eloise