Put your breast foot forward

I'm full of mammary puns at the moment, as I contemplate team names for my participation in the Susan G. Komen 3-day Walk for the Cure. A friend approached me with the idea of forming a team for the event in Seattle this September, and I signed up that night. That was the easy part. Now I have to train, raise funds, and learn not to hide from hordes of pink-wearing, boob-joking fellow participants.

But first things first. A bit of background as to why I'm participating...

One obvious reason is my grandma Alice. She had cancer when I was very young. I grew up knowing she'd had surgery and that she wore a funny pad in her bra. But it's only been since I was an adult and now a mother that the weight of all that she went through is appreciated. I loved my grandmother dearly, and grew up conscious of the risks of breast cancer because of her, but I will walk for many more reasons than the fact of grandmothers losing a breast to cancer.

Let's see, I like supporting a good cause, defined partially as one whose fundraising supports rigorous basic and applied research. Women's issues are near and dear to my heart, having grown up exposed to all sorts of feminist causes and in a female-heavy household. I have a strong interest in public health and health-promoting practices. I myself could stand to lose a couple (dozen) pounds. I like to walk. I like to travel. I have known various women who've had breast cancer, including a woman who died when her daughters were just 11 and 12 years old.

And so here I am, signed up to walk 60 miles over three days. I attended a 3-Day kick off meeting last weekend, which gave me some ideas for fundraising. The first official training walks are beginning soon, 24 weeks ahead of the start. I've got my fitted shoes, special socks to try out (with toes!), and a schedule for increasing walk distance each week. I hope to find a training group near my home. In the meantime, my husband and 2-year old son have been pressed into duty.

Tomorrow I'm taking my own personal training walk, a nearly 7-mile jaunt to lunch. I'll have to leave home at 9am in order to be sure I make it there in time to meet my family (aka my ride home). I look forward to seeing the neighborhoods from a walker's rather than driver's pace. I am hoping it doesn't rain on me, but by the end I might be wishing for a cool shower. And in the end, if I don't snooze in my burrito I might just smile from ear to ear at my great start.

Parent me

Responsibility for our children’s education and future begins in our homes and communities. What are some of the most effective ways you're taking responsibility at a personal and local level for your child’s education?

I may have taken the assignment too literally, but when asked by the White House to respond to the above prompt, I couldn't help but emphasize that education really does begin at home. Here's what I submitted:

My son is two years old, but I am already planning for his future--as a good student and a happy, healthy man. From personal experience and research, I find all of the following to be effective towards these ends. Learning is the child's “job”, and parents and teachers provide management, leadership, and supervision. My husband and I will be involved with our son's school from day one as we monitor work, volunteer for activities, and communicate with and support his teachers. We're already involved in his schooling; we've enrolled him in a series of parent-child classes since he was six months old, exposing him to music, exercise, water safety, social skills, and developing neural connections all the while. We expect he will continue his education beyond high school, and at home we speak of "when" he goes to college, not "if." We began setting aside funds for our son's college education at birth. Friends worry that our local educational system is suffering under budget cuts, large classes, and test-related strictures in the curriculum. I share their concerns and vote with them in mind, but I also know that school is not the only place where learning occurs. Our home is a place of discovery and fun, and a place where self discipline is practiced and expected (lots of books and reading, limited television, age-appropriate materials in a space set aside for just being a kid, and conscious modeling by both parents). I would love for my son to do well in school, by every measure; but I am most concerned that he be engaged with his learning and encouraged to use what he learns for good. My husband and I work on being honest, attentive, and reflective on our role as parents. We provide unconditional love; we enforce limits but give lots of leeway within them; and we work at being healthy--physically, emotionally, financially--so that we can continue to provide a supportive environment for our child. Like my parents before me, I am involved in my community, and I look forward to involving my son in causes that support vibrant, healthy communities. We get to know our neighbors, and enjoy having friends over to our home. All of these spheres—home, school, community—contribute to a child's education and development as a person. As parents we have the power to influence and strengthen them all, and in so doing increase the chances that our child will be a happy, healthy, productive citizen of tomorrow. That's a great responsibility, and one I take willingly.

It's not that I think schools are so unimportant. I went into the field of education because I view schools as vital parts of society. But I get frustrated by the attention directed at teachers, administrators, and the public school system because it paints a woefully incomplete picture of the education of our children.

No one is going to appoint me Education Czar with unlimited powers over curriculum, staffing, and policies in public education; my powers to affect these things through available means--voting, attending local meetings, running for school board, working as a teacher, etc--provide incremental and indirect change (which is not to be discounted). Yet there is one area where I have rather direct and immediate influence: at home with my own child. And if you're a parent, so do you.

I really do believe that if we, each of us, worked on our own issues a bit more, all of our children would be a lot better off, and then by extension so would the schools. Start with adequate sleep, eat breakfast and get 20 minutes of exercise each day, practice patience and stress management techniques when dealing with family/coworkers/tailgaters, and spend less than earned (which includes knowing how much we spend and earn). If everyone did just those things, schools would already be better off, because it would mean better health and less stress in children's lives. Imagine the possibilities.

Now go work on your issues, and I'll go work on mine. Let's call it our contribution to 21st century education.

Recording history

I'm clearing out some old posts, ones that never got published and have languished with the DRAFT label for no better reason than that I couldn't bring myself to complete the thought that spurred me to write. I edit to make the post at least intelligible (or so I hope), but otherwise leave the core thought as it was. Enjoy.

The following was written in August of 2009.

Ten days ago David's grandfather Verl, aged 96 and a half, passed away peacefully. He was the last of David's and my grandparents, and the only one to have known Adam. My grandma Ginny, the last surviving on my side, died weeks before Adam was born, just seven months ago. We miss them both, and all of our grandparents, each in their own way, dearly. For better or worse, they are our links to the past, part of the mystery of who we are and why.

While we have no regrets about waiting to have a child, we are sad that we did not have Adam sooner, in order to have shared his joy with more of our grandparents. Having a kid with a grandparent in residence was a true blessing. When the baby cried or projectile vomited, I worried that the disruption would bother Verl, but he was unfazed. He would calmly point out that the baby behaved as he did for a reason; it was nothing that getting upset about would help (how very logical). Naturally, as a father, I imagine he a) was not very helpful if even much present during his own child's rearing in the 1950s, and b) when he was aware of concerns involving the child, he wasn't near as patient as when he was 96 and tickled to finally be a great grandpa, ever present with no obligations attached. For this reason, I hope to live to be a grandmother, and I hope to be nearby when I am.

Thinking about life and death lately gets me thinking about my family history pursuits. Genealogy has been a hobby of mine for a long time, and I try to preserve just enough data to provide a rich record of history for my own ancestors. Years before they passed away, I did interviews with both Ginny and Verl. I asked them about their childhood, where they lived, early memories of home, school, and family traditions. These recordings don't bring loved ones back, but their voices and personal perspectives lend irreplaceable pieces of data. Plus it was just nice to sit down and have a conversation about personal history without any judgments or comments (along the lines of "Oh no, not that story again"). During the recorded interview it was for posterity, and I didn't mind repetition one bit.

The idea came to me after I heard a West Virginia woman interviewed on the radio, a woman whose voice sounded exactly like that of my great grandmother and her sisters. I felt a visceral longing for that unique voice. The twangy, distinctive dialect was a world away from the homogenized English I hear and use most days. It made me think about how those dialects are disappearing, and might be preserved as part of my own family history.

But I also happen to believe people's stories are interesting regardless of their utility, a point underscored by a website I've been monitoring recently. Interview Project is just a bunch of interviews. Random folks walking down the street or eating at a restaurant or wherever they were found, were asked to participate; they sat down and told their childhood dreams, how they met their spouses, and things they are most proud of, among various questions posed to them, while being filmed in black and white. Producer David Lynch describes it as a "a road trip where people have been found and interviewed". It's a profoundly simple way to highlight the commonalities we share, and I highly recommend a viewing (you watch each interview individually, which you can choose from a map of locations).

But first, go call a family member and schedule a sit down interview of your own. Make a list of questions (5-10 is sufficient for a 30-45 minute session, when you take into account follow up clarifying questions). Remember, they won't always be here (nor will you).