The End of September

I have today and tomorrow off work (Rosh Hoshannna). So, today I ran some errands. Then, I cleaned my nightstand of its cache of "stuff" - mostly back issues of School Library Journal, American Artist and Writer magazine. I found weird things in there, like a bag of pretty, smooth stones from Lake Michigan (I had considered doing a still life with them), some furry little bears from a side trip to the Vermont Teddy Bear factory one February (we went there to ski and it rained), books that people gave me as gifts but that I didn't like yet felt guilty discarding, an assortment of bookmarks, pens, ideas for stories that looked as though I'd jotted them down in the middle of the night (and probably had). I sat on my bedroom floor for two hours sorting through all that stuff. Now I have a box of donations.

This afternoon I ventured out in the backyard to cut back my daisies and settle into some serious weeding. I filled up two lawn and leaf bags with cuttings and weeds. I plan to spend a few more hours out there tomorrow, pulling up more weeds. These past few years, my garden has been plagued by some obnoxious, viney thing with purple flowers that entwines itself around everything. It smothers the life out of its victims.

So, tonight I'm relaxing. I've been reading Donald Maas's book, Writing the Breakout Novel, and it's taking me ages to get through. He makes many good points but, still, it's a little overwhelming and is going to take some time to soak in. Like maybe years. Or a decade.

At work, my new books have arrived at my main school. Yay! I've been having fun reading all the new picture books. I always read every single one of those. Some of the new nonfiction is so stunning - Nic Bishop's Frogs, Nic Bishop's Spiders, Living Color (by Steve Jenkins), Families (by Susan Kuklin). And of course I can't wait to read some of the new fiction.

For me, the end of this September is filled with the chirpy song of crickets, with the color of leaves changing from green to yellow, orange and crimson, with the sad yet joyful knowledge that my children aren't mine anymore. As I sit here writing, my oldest is out hiking part of the Long Trail in Vermont with some friends and my youngest has finally moved into his own place in Long Beach where he's busy carving out his own life. I applaud that, yet still I miss the days when we were all here together, curled up snug and warm. I miss reading my boys their bedtime story, attending their concerts, their soccer games and Boy Scout meetings, their music lessons and concerts. For a while I truly believed I was raising two aspiring musicians -- one a violinist and the other a cellist.

For me, September is a wistful time of inevitable transitions. This year is no exception.

Five Things On A Friday

1. Colds suck, even when you're home with a cup of hot tea, your computer on your lap and away from your day job. This is second day I've kept myself home from work with this nasty thing. Achoo!

2. Boxes of new books are one of the best parts of being a librarian. I got to spend a little more on new books this year (hooray!). Still, it's not enough. Among my new acquisitions are Living Color, by Steve Jenkins; The Underneath, by Kathi Appelt; Shooting the Moon, by Francis Dowell; Frankie Stein, by Lola Schafer; Diary of a Wimpy Kid, by Jeff Kinney; The Percy Jackson series, by Rick Riordan; The Arrival, by Shawn Tan, The Magic Thief, by Sarah Prineas, and many others. Lots of great nonfiction and poetry, too. It's like Christmas.

3. My youngest finally moved into his own place in Long Beach - a mere 15 minutes from work. Actually, he's sharing a house with 2 friends. They have little furniture (that will happen in time) and he's very excited about having a real job with benefits and living independently. We are too!

4. Tomorrow my husband is running the Hamptons Marathon out in East Hampton. He's been training for it for months. Unfortunately, the forecast is rain. Ugh. We hope it's gone by the time of the race. His goal is to run it under 4 hours so he can qualify for Boston. Go Dennis!

5. I sold an article to the SCBWI Bulletin in July. Don't think I ever posted this bit of news, though. It will be published sometime in the future (as opposed to the past?). No saying when. I hope it's within the year.

September 11th, Remembered

So, here it's been 7 years since that awful day when our country was attacked by terrorists and somehow hearing about it all over again still tears a hole in my heart.

I read the book, Fireboat, by Maira Kalman, to my 4th graders today and, even though I thought I was well over this event, I found myself choking back tears as I read the story. The kids looked at me, wonderingly. I thought of David from my art class who lost both of his daughters. They worked for Cantor Fitzgerald. I thought of Stephanie, a young woman who babysat for our boys when they were young. She lost her husband that day and she still hasn't remarried. I thought of all the people whose names I can't remember, people lost in the rubble, reduced to bits of flesh and bone found by the cadaver police dogs or haphazardly by firefighters, EMTS or others. I thought of the signs draped over the parkways that day and in the weeks afterward when the normally jam-packed roads were nearly empty. "Pray for the Missing EMTS". "Pray for the Missing Firefighters". And then "David, Come Home". That one got me. I also thought of all the little kids in the neighborhood selling lemonade and trying to help, in some small way, to raise money for the families of the victims. It was both sweet and sad. All those images crowded my mind as I read the story of the fireboat, the John J. Harvey.

Sometimes I want to forget this day ever happened. Like the day Kennedy or Martin Luther King was assassinated, somehow I can't. It's just as important to remember the sad memories as it is the good. They're all part of being human.

Back To Work

For the teachers and students of Long Island, this was back-to-school week. Yesterday, we had a school wide meeting with our new superintendent, who truly is a super guy (well-educated, articulate, smart and a person of integrity). Then back at our building, we had a meeting with our principal to explain everything that was in a folder (and we could have read ourselves). Principals always insist on stating the obvious or going over things we've been over a million times before. Of course it was time I could have better spent updating my library automation program, hanging a new bulletin board or opening my Picturing America grant.

Out on the blacktop this morning were the usual collection of kindergartners in their new clothes, carrying their new backpacks filled with shiny things - pencils, crayons, water bottles, scissors, etc. One girl keep unzipping her pack and peeping inside with a smile on her face. Some had tears in their eyes while others had a "been there, done that" attitude. One little guy was having a full blown tantrum while clinging desperately to his mom's leg. The parents were all there with cameras, camcorders and last words of advice for their kids before we shepherded them down the long corridor to kindergarten. One phase of their lives over and another just beginning. Somehow, I think it was more traumatic for the parents than the kids.

Over the summer, I forget how much I miss the kids. They are, after all, the reason we have jobs. And they always remind me of how much I owe them. Today a boy named Sam asked me if I had the book, Dog Heaven, by Cynthia Rylant. After I helped him find it, he sat down to read it. The class aid looked at me and whispered, "His dog died yesterday." After he'd finished, Sam had tears in his eyes. I hope that in some small way, Dog Heaven helped him come to grips with the loss of his pet.

Books are such powerful tools and this small incident reminded me once again of the power of the pen and the ability we have to help children through every part of their lives on the bumpy dirt road to adulthood.