My favorite sport is baseball, and there is nothing better than counting down to opening day. I really can’t wait until my beloved Phillies take the field, and I am listening to the crack of the bat. But until then I am making a point to watch basketball with my husband. I figure since there are only the two of us living in our home, we shouldn’t always be watching different TV programs in different rooms.
It is not like I hate basketball; its just not my favorite, but Chuck is my favorite person to spend time with. Watching the Sixers or college games together gives us another layer of things to add to our conversations.
What have we been discussing?
Why is Joel Embiid shushing the crowd?
Why can’t the 76ers win on the road?
Why do professional athletes complain when the crowd boos? Aren’t they being paid to perform?
Why can’t Ben Simmons and Joel Embiid get along and “blend?”
Now the answers to these questions are not going to solve world problems, but we like to compare our answers with the sports pundits. Being totally truthful – sometimes one or both of us falls asleep during the game, and we watch the highlights later! Togetherness.
Today is the start of “Slice of Life 2020.” This blogging challenge is sponsored by twowritingteachers.com and is in its 13th year. It was this challenge that inspired me to finally start my blog. I had been seeing writing colleagues’ posts and so wanted to be a part of the excitement. I finally mustered up enough courage to begin my blog, “Practicing What I Teach,” and join in the fun. This is my fifth year participating in the challenge.
For those of you who may not know, the challenge is to write and post on my blog everyday in the month of March; then upload my post to twowritingteachers.com and comment on at least three other posts. Some days the writing comes easy; other days it is a struggle, but I have successfully completed the challenge the past four years, so I am hoping I can do it again this year.
I am so grateful to the other participants of this challenge for their inspiration. As I read and comment on various posts each day, I find so many ideas for things to write about. I get a chance to see glimpses of the world through the eyes of others and gain a new perspective. The words of encouragement I receive from other writers always reminds me of what I should and hopefully am doing for my students as well as my writing communities.
Even though I am a little apprehensive beginning this challenge, I know that I will become a better writer, responder, and teacher because of it. Let the March blogging begin!
The bass, no matter what kind of music you are playing, it just enhances the sound and makes everything sound more beautiful and full. When the bass stops, the bottom kind of drops out of everything.
Charlie Haden
Dear String Bass,
You weren’t my first love; that was the piano, but you quickly became my forever love.
I met you in the 9th grade as a blind date because I was expecting the cello – the instrument I had requested. I was destined for another; I was destined for you.
As a shy teenager, you made me stand out. It was scary at first, but as I supported you on my leg, you supported me In ways beyond my imagination.
You helped me grow as a musician, as a person, as myself.
We spent so many hours together practicing in the basement of the music wing. I would play my scales and pieces over and over until there were calluses on my fingers, and my arm tired of pulling the bow across the strings.
I wanted to be good, but you called me to be better. I became section leader, and you gave me the courage to audtion for All-City Orchestra, You came with me to The Academy of Music, and as the curtain went up and I played those first notes with the string ensemble you calmed my nerves with the familiar feel of your strong strings and your melodious deep voice. I can remember it like it was yesterday.
You came with me to college as I started my studies to become a music teacher. Then we ventured into the world of parish music ministry. We played for Sunday Mass, wedding, funerals, and other special occasions.
We had a good run.
You gave me over 30 years of your steadfast presence and so many musical memories. Then it became harder for me to make you sing. Arthritis and other ailments made it difficult – difficult to stand and support you – difficult to hold down your thick strings – difficult to carry you from place to place.
But that’s OK. I’m ready to let you go. I want you to know that I will always be grateful for the world you opened up to me – for teaching me to love Bach, & Hayden Handel & Mozart.
Maybe it’s time for me to really let you go – to free you from your place next to the piano – to pass you to the next musician who can give life to your voice once more.
Love you always, Rita
This poem was inspired by “Dear Basketball” by Kobe Bryant. I was reminded of his poem while participating in the 5-Day Poetry Challenge on ethicalela.com
For about a month my lower right back tooth was starting to be sensitive to cold. I couldn’t tell if it was the last of my wisdom teeth or the crown next to it that was actually giving me trouble. I made an appointment with the dentist and low and behold, the wisdom tooth had a rather large cavity and need to be pulled.
The first of my wisdom teeth were pulled in my dentist’s office when I was in my 20’s – easy peasy. The third one was about five years ago in my current dentist’s office. It was not pleasant, and I swore I would never get another tooth pulled unless I went to an oral surgeon and was knocked out cold!
Well, I guess time has a way of making you forget about things. How bad could it be? AWFUL!!! I took the dentist at least 45 minutes to get the tooth out of my mouth. He drilled; he yanked; he had to get another instrument. I could hear the breaking of the tooth, the whirring of the drill, and the instruments scraping along the tooth without getting a good grip. Needless to say, I felt quite beaten up.
I managed some scrambled eggs for dinner and a call to get a sub for Tuesday, and then I settled into the recliner for the night. That’s where I stayed all day Tuesday. Returning to school on Wednesday, I thought everything would gradually begin to feel better. Not the case.
Each day things got worse. By the weekend I was cancelling plans and counting the hours until I could call the dentist on Monday morning. Long story shortish- I have dry socket. It is very painful. I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy. I have to see the dentist every day until it heals. I will spare you the gory details.
I researched and less than 1-5% of people who get teeth extracted end up with dry socket. Lucky me! Maybe I should head to Vegas!
Moral of the story: Get your wisdom teeth taken out when you are young!
Be Somebody who makes everybody feel like somebody.
HPLYRIKZ.com
I will never forget you Sister Roseathea. You opened my ears to the world of music. Those lunch time glee club rehearsals prevented me from feeling alone in the schoolyard.
I watched you as you created a school show in our little auditorium with cut-out decorations and cute little props. You allowed us to wear pantsuits in 8th grade a BIG deal in 1972.
You taught us to sing “Joy to the World” and not the Christmas carol version either. I couldn’t believe a nun could be so cool. You knew how how to draw us in to honor our young teenage selves.
You gave us an opportunity to shine. You inspired me to become a music teacher. I felt like you were passing the torch, and in turn I created shows for my students giving them a chance to shine.
“Write it on your heart that every day is the best day in the year. He is rich who owns the day, and no one owns the day who allows it to be invaded with fret and anxiety.
Finish every day and be done with it. You have done what you could. Some blunders and absurdities, no doubt crept in. Forget them as soon as you can, tomorrow is a new day; begin it well and serenely, with too high a spirit to be cumbered with your old nonsense.
This new day is too dear, with its hopes and invitations, to waste a moment on the yesterdays.”
~Ralph Waldo Emerson
On New Year’s Day I joined a group #100daysofnotebooking. It is a group of writers who have agreed to take on the challenge set forth by Middle School teacher, Michelle Haseltine (@Mhaseltine – michellehaseltine.com) – to write in our notebooks for 100 days straight. It is a daunting task, but I am giving it a try. The poem below grew out of my first day of “notebooking.” Then today the quote by Emerson appeared in my Facebook feed, so I decided it was a sign I need to share my poem in progress.
New Year’s Day
Today, I make no resolution, No intention, no pledge no plan. When looking back what I have learned is I can only do the best I can.
No “one little word” will define me; Petty games I choose not to play. Can’t promise that I will eat better, or vow to exercise every day.
When I need to rest I will do so. I won’t be afraid to say, “No.” People who know me will understand. People who don’t – well they can go.
I will listen to my body more – from head to heart down to my soul. No expectations will shackle me Being my best self my only goal.
I have found that I cannot be resolute for an entire year. In the past, making resolutions has only served to set me up for failure. I would choose my “one little word” and realize that I needed to change it periodically through the year. I may not be able to be resolute for an entire year, but I can be resolute for a day. Hopefully, one day will become two, then three, then a week, then a month. I can only do the best I can, and that is enough!
Whatever should have been or could have been, doesn’t matter. This moment is here and now for you to live.
Ralph Marston
The Christmas decorations should have come down from the attic on Thanksgiving or at least that weekend, but they came down two weeks later.
The house should have been decorated that weekend, but some boxes sit unopened.
The tree went up a week ago and should be decorated, but it remains with just colored lights.
The stockings should be hung on the railing with care, but they are still piled neatly on the table.
The shopping should have been completed earlier, but the 24th will have to do.
I should have been as busy as one of Santa’s elves baking chocolate chip cookies, but I am down for the count with a nasty cold – hacking cough and missing voice.
WHAT SHOULD HAVE BEEN IS NOT WHAT IS!
What is is this…
Although it took us a little longer than before, my husband and I were able to get the outside lights and nativity scene up.
We were able to go to our granddaughters’ Christmas show.
We proudly watched our son conduct his high school instrumental students at their Holiday Concert.
I was the beneficiary of generous gifts from siblings, principal, colleagues, and students.
We attended our grandson’s Christmas Pageant
My “mostly new member” chime choir successfully debuted at the school tableau.
I began a 16 day Christmas break.
I made a chocolate “gingerbread” house with my granddaughters.
My husband made me delicious vegetable soup.
The Eagles beat the Cowboys!
I spent a day with my grandson and experienced his never ending imagination.
My daughter surprised me with homemade chocolate chip cookies.
It is true; the pile of gifts to be given are smaller because money has been tight, but they are wrapped and ready to go. Christmas may not be happening the way I envisioned it a month ago. It certainly isn’t going to look like one of my beloved Hallmark Movies, but the sentiment will be the same.
Tonight and tomorrow we will travel to different homes, sit around tables, share meals, and eat too much. We will see family that we have seen recently, and those we haven’t seen for a while. We will laugh and tell stories that have probably been told time and time again.
When we finally put our heads to our pillows on Christmas night, it won’t matter what should have been – only what was.
Whatever holiday you are celebrating, I hope you enjoy what is and not worry about what should have been. Enjoy the small moments with the ones you love, let them gift you with their love, and be in the here and now.
I am participating in the November: 5/5-Day Monthly Writing Challenge. The challenge is to write a poem every day for five days. This is my first poem on the what is the last day, but never too late to write! The poem below is a Nonet. It has nine lines. The first line has nine syllables with each subsequent line decreasing by one syllable. How will were you kind today? What about tomorrow?
Remember when you see 11:11 you are in the presence of peace.
Willowsoul.com
My mom passed away on 9/20/18. As the first anniversary of her passing approached, I began seeing 11:11 on my cell phone, the cable box, and my clock radio. I was missing my mom terribly, and the first anniversary seemed to make me more emotional than I was when she passed.
I don’t know what made me start searching the Internet about the meaning of seeing 11:11, but I did. I have never put much stock in astrology or numerology, but I figured it couldn’t hurt. There were so many different possibilities to explain why I was seeing 11:11, from it being an opportunity portal, that everything is a result of my thoughts and feelings, I am on a path to awakening, or that I am supposed to make a wish.
[On a side note – I was clueless about the 11:11 wish and how many people actually make them. That is until I started my search, then one day I won a signed copy of The 11:11 Wish by Kim Tomsic by entering a Twitter contest. More about this later.]
The meaning that hit home for me though was the one that said a deceased loved one was sending me a message. Now that was something I knew could be true. You see my mother’s birthday was 11/11/27. Whenever anyone asked her when her birthday was, she would rattle off the rhyme with a smile.
11:11 has a new twist. Now when I see those numbers appear, I take it as a sign that my mom is with me, letting me know that things will be OK, and reminding me that I am strong enough to handle whatever life is flinging my way. She was always so positive and peaceful no matter what she was facing, never complaining, never forgetting to celebrate each day. She was my biggest cheerleader and confidante. And although there is a running family joke about who was her “favorite,” we all know in our hearts that she loved each of us just the way we each needed to be loved and was proud of the adults we had become and lives we made for ourselves.We don’t need a number to tell us that.
So today, on what would have been her 92nd birthday, I am sad that she is not here physically, but I will celebrate knowing that she is always close to my heart and still guiding me and cheering me on.
[I won a copy of the book when I retweeted the tweet and told the author 11:11 was my mom’s birthday. Thanks Kim!]
