an ancient time
somewhere in scandinavia
a family in a remote area, snowbound in the height of winter. Supplies are dwindling
hardly any sun
at night a knock on the door
a man appears. he is large, lean haggard, clad in furs, leather, long beard, seems old, yet strong, carrying giant packs of supplies
Spring - villager come out of the winter hibernation Share stories of the mysterious stranger that appeared around the solstice
Friday, January 30, 2015
Sunday, November 30, 2014
Tuesday, November 25, 2014
The Red and White Carnival
Every spring, when I was growing up in Iowa City, there was an event called the Red and White Carnival. It seemed to always be on the weekend in May when the spring became glorious and there may even be a hint of summer.
It was, obviously, a carnival, complete with rides, carnies, questionable snacks, and a lot of people. It was called the Red and White carnival presumably because its host was the parking lot of City High School, and their school colors were red and white. It was a fundraiser for the Iowa City Music Auxiliary.
City High is a majestic brick school, built in the late 1930s, on a hill, nestled in a residential area. The distinctive white tower can be seen for miles. The parking lot that hosted the Red and White, was known in my time as "The Pot Lot". High school students have a penchant for categorizing people and places, so at some point through the years, it was a familiar designation, fairly or unfairly based on what may or may not have happened there.
During my sixth grade year, my friend Kurt and I were planning our annual visit to the R & W. While strolling around checking out the rigged games and the slightly frightening carnies and high schoolers, we happened upon two classmates.
I will give them more contemporary names, just in case they ever read this! Jessie and Madison were classmates of ours. Also, they were our rivals! Constantly, we traded barbs witty insults to try to top each other. Usually they were based on some sort of perceived lack of intelligence on the part of the adversary. Invariably, the other friend would jump in, and the banter would continue until order was returned by the long-suffering Mrs. Rauer.
So we met Jessie and Madison at the carnival. Of course, insults were traded. I do not recall the exact content of the exchange, but in some way, I must have crossed the line. Jessie decided it was time to douse me with her cup of soda pop.
On a warm, almost summery day, sugary liquid applied to your body does not feel so good. After the initial shock, I exclaimed, "I feel like a glazed donut!!"
Luckily, I lived only a couple of blocks away, I went home with Kurt, cleaned up, and plotted our revenge. We weren't exactly clever; we decided to head back and get Jessie back with a cup of soda. Unfortunately, we had already been to the carnival for awhile, so we had spent all our money. So were wandering the house looking for change. So we managed to scrape up the 15 cents (Yes, 15 cents!!!) for the weapon of choice. We went back, purchased a brown non-diet cola for maximum stickiness and possible staining, and searched for our victim.
We wandered awhile, hoping they hadn't decided to leave. Suddenly, we spotted them. Better yet, they did not see us, so we able to sneak up quietly to attack with accuracy. We got really close and one of us said, "Hey!" Jessie turned. I fired. She was quick, got out of the way, and Madison got the full soda pop assault. A measure of revenge, at least. We ran.
That was the end of our exploits with Jessie and Madison. Somewhat the back and forth banter lost its luster in the last couple weeks of school. Then we never saw them again. Did they go to a different junior high? Move away? Did the soda pop incident cause irreparable emotional damage?
We still do not know.
It was, obviously, a carnival, complete with rides, carnies, questionable snacks, and a lot of people. It was called the Red and White carnival presumably because its host was the parking lot of City High School, and their school colors were red and white. It was a fundraiser for the Iowa City Music Auxiliary.
City High is a majestic brick school, built in the late 1930s, on a hill, nestled in a residential area. The distinctive white tower can be seen for miles. The parking lot that hosted the Red and White, was known in my time as "The Pot Lot". High school students have a penchant for categorizing people and places, so at some point through the years, it was a familiar designation, fairly or unfairly based on what may or may not have happened there.
During my sixth grade year, my friend Kurt and I were planning our annual visit to the R & W. While strolling around checking out the rigged games and the slightly frightening carnies and high schoolers, we happened upon two classmates.
I will give them more contemporary names, just in case they ever read this! Jessie and Madison were classmates of ours. Also, they were our rivals! Constantly, we traded barbs witty insults to try to top each other. Usually they were based on some sort of perceived lack of intelligence on the part of the adversary. Invariably, the other friend would jump in, and the banter would continue until order was returned by the long-suffering Mrs. Rauer.
So we met Jessie and Madison at the carnival. Of course, insults were traded. I do not recall the exact content of the exchange, but in some way, I must have crossed the line. Jessie decided it was time to douse me with her cup of soda pop.
On a warm, almost summery day, sugary liquid applied to your body does not feel so good. After the initial shock, I exclaimed, "I feel like a glazed donut!!"
Luckily, I lived only a couple of blocks away, I went home with Kurt, cleaned up, and plotted our revenge. We weren't exactly clever; we decided to head back and get Jessie back with a cup of soda. Unfortunately, we had already been to the carnival for awhile, so we had spent all our money. So were wandering the house looking for change. So we managed to scrape up the 15 cents (Yes, 15 cents!!!) for the weapon of choice. We went back, purchased a brown non-diet cola for maximum stickiness and possible staining, and searched for our victim.
We wandered awhile, hoping they hadn't decided to leave. Suddenly, we spotted them. Better yet, they did not see us, so we able to sneak up quietly to attack with accuracy. We got really close and one of us said, "Hey!" Jessie turned. I fired. She was quick, got out of the way, and Madison got the full soda pop assault. A measure of revenge, at least. We ran.
That was the end of our exploits with Jessie and Madison. Somewhat the back and forth banter lost its luster in the last couple weeks of school. Then we never saw them again. Did they go to a different junior high? Move away? Did the soda pop incident cause irreparable emotional damage?
We still do not know.
Sunday, November 23, 2014
Bugles and Chuckles
I lived in a house on Lucas Street the first four years of my life. It's pretty challenging to remember things from that age, but there are a few foggy memories.
You've probably seen Bugles in the chips section of your local store. They are conical in shape and are salty and tasty in that delightfully artificial way. Not only that, but they perfectly sized to place on the end of little fingers and make evil pointy hands! Then eat them. My dad bought them for us on a whim one day. It was the first fun and silly thing I can remember.
Chuckles are flat, square gumdrops with a generous amount of sugar on top of them. Always five in a flat box with clear plastic on it and a cardboard backing. The colors/flavors were: red, orange, yellow, green, and black.
We must not have had a washing machine, because we went to the laundromat to do laundry. My dad took us and we went over to the vending machine, All these coin operated machines were fascinating at the time! I'm going to guess that I chose the Chuckles because they were colorful. The first candy I remember having was Chuckles from the vending machine at the laundromat.
My dad left this earth in 2006, and in actuality, it was years sooner as he suffered mightily from the effects of dementia. My memories of him are a tale for another day, but for now it's enough to say that my positive memories were far and few between. These two events give me a little positive about the man, which maybe why I remember them.
Fast forward 45 years. Our washing machine was in disrepair, so we made a few trips to the old laundromat, still there on Bloomington Street. I decided to regale my youngest, Bree, in the story of the laundromat and Chuckles. I made it really dramatic and there was a vending machine in the same place as 45 years earlier. So I walk her over there, and there were Chuckles in the machine!
Thanks, dad.
You've probably seen Bugles in the chips section of your local store. They are conical in shape and are salty and tasty in that delightfully artificial way. Not only that, but they perfectly sized to place on the end of little fingers and make evil pointy hands! Then eat them. My dad bought them for us on a whim one day. It was the first fun and silly thing I can remember.
Chuckles are flat, square gumdrops with a generous amount of sugar on top of them. Always five in a flat box with clear plastic on it and a cardboard backing. The colors/flavors were: red, orange, yellow, green, and black.
We must not have had a washing machine, because we went to the laundromat to do laundry. My dad took us and we went over to the vending machine, All these coin operated machines were fascinating at the time! I'm going to guess that I chose the Chuckles because they were colorful. The first candy I remember having was Chuckles from the vending machine at the laundromat.
My dad left this earth in 2006, and in actuality, it was years sooner as he suffered mightily from the effects of dementia. My memories of him are a tale for another day, but for now it's enough to say that my positive memories were far and few between. These two events give me a little positive about the man, which maybe why I remember them.
Fast forward 45 years. Our washing machine was in disrepair, so we made a few trips to the old laundromat, still there on Bloomington Street. I decided to regale my youngest, Bree, in the story of the laundromat and Chuckles. I made it really dramatic and there was a vending machine in the same place as 45 years earlier. So I walk her over there, and there were Chuckles in the machine!
Thanks, dad.
Wednesday, November 19, 2014
Flight
I lived on 2nd Avenue as a kid. It started at the top of a hill by Hoover Elementary and the hill leveled out around my house, two blocks down.
I spent a lot of time riding my bike to the top of the hill, just so I could coast down. I loved the feeling of effortlessly flying down that hill.
There was just one problem. About half way down the hill there was a cross street called A Street. Right as you were getting to top speed, you had to put on the brakes, because there was a house situated just so, so you could not see any cars coming from A Street. Moreover, neither street had a stop sign.
It was not a particularly busy neighborhood, so the odds that a car would come at exactly the same moment as you would cross that street was quite small. But still!
Every once in a while, I would get up the nerve to zip through that intersection without braking. My body would be electrified as I would fly full speed through the danger zone!
Eventually, I learned how to ride with no hands. So adding the no hands skill to the coasting through the danger zone added to the adrenaline rush.
I had a really good time flying through the danger zone, ignoring the possible annihilation by a vehicle, with no hands on the handlebars. But after awhile, I craved a new thrill. What could I add to enhance my experience?
I ruminated over this weighty issue. Finally, it dawned on me. How could I increase the risk factor? Coasting through the danger zone, with no hands, and with EYES CLOSED! Talk about unsafe!
It took me awhile to get to this point. I mean, come on, that's a little unwise to say the least. I would coast, close my eyes, but it was like I could only keep them shut for the briefest second.
One day, I had been going up and down that hill, being unable to get the job done. One more time, I thought. I was at the top of the hill, and did my usual routine. Pedal hard for a few yards to get up speed, take the hands off, coast on down. Then I would reach the danger zone, have that rush still, even thought I'd done it many times. This time was different. I squeezed my eyes shut. And kept them shut.
It was like a dream that I was flying and floating. Just the air and my body going through space. It was exhilarating!
The old joke is that if you fall from a great height, it's not the fall that's the problem, it's the abrupt stop. The dream ended as I smashed in to a parked truck. Now I was really flying, but it was over the handlebars of my bike, and on to the unforgiving street.
I laid on the concrete, evaluating my condition. A little bruised but miraculously, no major injuries. I checked my bike. It would need a little work. I checked the truck. It was kind of a beat up old truck so I wondered, did I leave that mark? Did I make that dent?
Most importantly, did anyone SEE me? I wandered the area around. The event happened near my house. I peered in the neighbors yards, in their windows. No other cars driving by. I breathed a sigh of relief, I do not think anyone saw me!
It was a miracle.
I spent a lot of time riding my bike to the top of the hill, just so I could coast down. I loved the feeling of effortlessly flying down that hill.
There was just one problem. About half way down the hill there was a cross street called A Street. Right as you were getting to top speed, you had to put on the brakes, because there was a house situated just so, so you could not see any cars coming from A Street. Moreover, neither street had a stop sign.
It was not a particularly busy neighborhood, so the odds that a car would come at exactly the same moment as you would cross that street was quite small. But still!
Every once in a while, I would get up the nerve to zip through that intersection without braking. My body would be electrified as I would fly full speed through the danger zone!
Eventually, I learned how to ride with no hands. So adding the no hands skill to the coasting through the danger zone added to the adrenaline rush.
I had a really good time flying through the danger zone, ignoring the possible annihilation by a vehicle, with no hands on the handlebars. But after awhile, I craved a new thrill. What could I add to enhance my experience?
I ruminated over this weighty issue. Finally, it dawned on me. How could I increase the risk factor? Coasting through the danger zone, with no hands, and with EYES CLOSED! Talk about unsafe!
It took me awhile to get to this point. I mean, come on, that's a little unwise to say the least. I would coast, close my eyes, but it was like I could only keep them shut for the briefest second.
One day, I had been going up and down that hill, being unable to get the job done. One more time, I thought. I was at the top of the hill, and did my usual routine. Pedal hard for a few yards to get up speed, take the hands off, coast on down. Then I would reach the danger zone, have that rush still, even thought I'd done it many times. This time was different. I squeezed my eyes shut. And kept them shut.
It was like a dream that I was flying and floating. Just the air and my body going through space. It was exhilarating!
The old joke is that if you fall from a great height, it's not the fall that's the problem, it's the abrupt stop. The dream ended as I smashed in to a parked truck. Now I was really flying, but it was over the handlebars of my bike, and on to the unforgiving street.
I laid on the concrete, evaluating my condition. A little bruised but miraculously, no major injuries. I checked my bike. It would need a little work. I checked the truck. It was kind of a beat up old truck so I wondered, did I leave that mark? Did I make that dent?
Most importantly, did anyone SEE me? I wandered the area around. The event happened near my house. I peered in the neighbors yards, in their windows. No other cars driving by. I breathed a sigh of relief, I do not think anyone saw me!
It was a miracle.
Monday, September 29, 2014
9/29/14
Math
Multiplying Decimals
p.89 13-20 - due tomorrow
Language arts
Lesson 7 packet - due Friday
Parts of speech packet - due tomorrow
Writing - opinion writing from the story
Social studies
Ch 3 notes
Study guide for test Friday
Science
Multiplying Decimals
p.89 13-20 - due tomorrow
Language arts
Lesson 7 packet - due Friday
Parts of speech packet - due tomorrow
Writing - opinion writing from the story
Social studies
Ch 3 notes
Study guide for test Friday
Science
Thursday, September 25, 2014
9/25/14
Math
none
Language arts
Lesson 6 packet - due tomorrow
Spelling
TEST TOMORROW!! LOOK AT THE LIST!!!!\
Social Studies
Read Ch. 3
none
Language arts
Lesson 6 packet - due tomorrow
Spelling
TEST TOMORROW!! LOOK AT THE LIST!!!!\
Social Studies
Read Ch. 3
Tuesday, September 23, 2014
9/23/14
Math
Dividing mixed numbers
p.74 9-20 - due tomorrow!\
Language arts
Lesson 6 packet - due Friday
Writing assessment - Thursday!
Spelling
Test Friday
Social Studies
Neolithic villages
Science
Dividing mixed numbers
p.74 9-20 - due tomorrow!\
Language arts
Lesson 6 packet - due Friday
Writing assessment - Thursday!
Spelling
Test Friday
Social Studies
Neolithic villages
Science
9/22/14
Math
p.67, 11-26 - due tomorrow
Dividing Fractions
Language arts
Lesson 6 packet - due Friday
Writing assessment - Wed. or Thurs.
Spelling
Pretest - New Groups
Final test - Friday
Social Studies
Work on the Neolithic houses/village
Science
Reflective assessment
p.67, 11-26 - due tomorrow
Dividing Fractions
Language arts
Lesson 6 packet - due Friday
Writing assessment - Wed. or Thurs.
Spelling
Pretest - New Groups
Final test - Friday
Social Studies
Work on the Neolithic houses/village
Science
Reflective assessment
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