20 years ago today, I defended my dissertation and was called Dr. for the first time. Hard, hard work for 3 ½ years ended with that word, Dr. But, I had enjoyed every class I took, every book I read, every class discussion, even every paper I had written. My Ed.D in Curriculum and Instuction had been one of the best parts of the career choice I made back in the day when my choices were secretary, teacher, or nurse.
My dissertation topic was “Sex Role Stereotypes and Their Effect on the Career Choices of Gifted Females.” Those stereotypes affected my career choice! I hope and pray that that topic is no longer relevant in this time of our first female Presidential candidate. But, all gender issues, sexist, and racist problems have yet to be resolved. Seems that saying “first women candidate” or “first Black President” or “first gay football player” perpetuates the perception that there are differences.
Happy Anniversary to me!! I can tell you this: the last 20 years went by a lot faster than the first 20 years I taught school!!!
Nothing like spending the Fourth of July in another country to bring out the patriot in you! No one else celebrates the day, you know.
I’ve spent the day in Lyon, France with a group of the youngest members of our bus tour who gathered in the largest hotel room assigned to us. We decide to play the quintessential card game for a large group–SPOONS. (A speedy game with one less spoon than players because when you have the right card sequence in your hand, you grab a spoon, everyone else follows, but someone is left without a spoon–hence the looser who gains an S, then a P, etc. until the entire word is spelled crowning the outcast and you pass out antiseptic and band-aids for all the wounds received grabbing for the spoons in the middle of the table!!!). We called down for room service–12 soft drinks, please, with as much ice as you can find. And 11 spoons!
Bonne peine !! Les américains fous… Good grief!! Those crazy Americans…
Today is the anniversary of the beginning of this blog. So there’s no better time to announce the publication of my first book. Read on…
This is the last comment I made on my own blog post in July 2014: I haven’t been writing on the blog because I’ve been working on finishing a children’s chapter book that I started decades ago. Now, with self-publishing, I’ve decided to finish it and not go through the process of having a publishing house accept it. That process had kept me from even wanting to finish the writing. I am a week from writing the last part. The first 2/3 is written, revised, and then revised again. I am sooooo excited about seeing it in print. Hopefully, in time for a little friend’s birthday at the end of September.
The book was not finished or published until January 2016. As things do, they got in the way–things that will be discussed in future posts.
But here’s to a completed, published, read by a few, handed out by me, real book.
One More Chance by Laura Young sold on Lulu.com.
July 4, 2014, at an outdoor family BBQ in a front yard in the United States of America, a stray bullet from a gang fight hits a young mother and she dies while her little son and her own mother watch and wait on an ambulance to arrive. A member of a gang pulls the trigger on a gun and a mother dies, a family group is never the same, a neighborhood takes a deep sigh.
July 2014, in Israel three teenage boys are abducted and later killed and left for someone to find. A member in a warring faction decided on an act that would start a war. Now hundreds are dead; many other lives will be lost; many homes will be destroyed; the peace of the region demolished.
July 17, 2014, at an airport in Holland 298 people board an airliner to Kuala Lumpur some doing their jobs, some for vacations, some for a scientific conference, some to see family and four hours into their flight a surface-to-air missile cuts the plane in half and scatters their bodies, the plane, and their belongings over six square miles. A militant rebel group with the help of the leader of a nation determined to disrupt the peace of a region used a missile to murder 298 people. Lives from many nations touched; leaders of many nations livid; people from many nations bewildered by the thought.
July 2014 and somehow the world still spins, but seems to be a little off its axis–the actions of a few.
They do not represent the rest of us.
What’s on the opposite side of the earth from where you are sitting right now?
Wolfram/Alpha is a website that dazzles us with computations, facts, interesting calculations it allows you to make, all things numerical for folks like me who don’t have the education in math that they wish they had. Check it out if this kind of thing interests you. Once a week they send me an email with 5 or 6 interesting questions like “how many Washingtons would it take to cover Washington state?” Well, who really cares. I rarely touch the =sign there to find the answer, but today the first question was “what’s on the opposite side of the earth?”
Before I touched the equals mark, I tried to guess. Geography is not my strong suit! I touched that equals mark and in a second the picture framed on the screen was a red pin marker surrounded by blue–the middle of some body of water. Well, I’m a great swimmer, so that’s OK. The size of the framed location was 5 miles so I changed it to 1300 miles and the corner of a land mass appeared. The location became instantly clear even to my geographically challenged mind. A chill ran over me and tears welled up in my eyes. What’s on the opposite side of the earth from where I’m sitting right now? 1300 miles from Perth. 1300 miles west of the Australian coast in the south Indian Ocean where all those planes and ships are looking for Flight MH370.
Now that the human genome has been mapped. Now that you can swab your cheek and with a few dollars send off your DNA for a map of your genes. Now that you can create life outside the womb. Now that you can test that embryo for hereditary diseases. Now that you can do all of that, why not design your baby? Blue eyes, brown hair, tall like his daddy, smart like his mother, musical like his grandfather, an athlete like his uncle Peyton–what would you choose? Choosing is already allowed for many of those traits; where is the line between what is done now and what could be done? Is there a line? Should there be a line?
An email crossed my desk a long time ago that asked, “If you could only choose one, would you choose to be smart or would you choose to be rich? Ever thought about that? Give that some thought today–don’t just decide now–think about each and if you choose for your child, how that choice would impact the life. Scientists think that at least 60% of your intelligence is decided by your genetic make up. Now consider this: At a research lab in a converted shoe factory in China, research is being conducted on the DNA of 2000 scientists and math wizards, subjects with IQ’s over 145 (that is mega genius level), to find which genes they have in common that might account for their high intelligence.
And as always, there’s the good and then there’s the evil. You don’t need an IQ of 145 to understand the some of the implications of this research!
My rule for one word resolutions (read resolved from last year) gives me this year–responsibility.
The word came to me last week when everything on TV was about someone not, I say not, taking responsibility for their own actions.
So, I’ll start by being an example. This is a lousy entry, I’m tired, and don’t want to write, but feel I must make an entry on the first day of the year, and I take full responsibility for it’s lousiness! Wow, that feels good! There–go fess up. You know it was your fault. Deal with it and don’t blame someone else! Happy New Year, anyway!
I always choke up when our national anthem is played; I try to say thank you to any soldiers I see, but cry; I tear up about anything to do with this great nation–God bless the United States of America, please. Thank you to any reading this who served this country. Thank you!
I have another blog
that most of you have not found
yet because you haven’t nosed around the
blogosphere enough, I guess,
and because I began using it just for me.
The blog came about by the discovery of a new theme on wordpress
with balloons drifting throughout and a
wonderful periwinkle background. The next day
when I opened wordpress the words “create a new blog”
appeared on the screen and so I did–with the balloon theme fresh in my mind
a new blog was quickly born. The balloons reminded me of
thoughts floating by
so those are the words recorded on the posts.
I didn’t change the default to private; I just
kept it to myself.
Gradually, others found it–I’ve never understood how.
But I did notice that when my
thoughts floating by
came out in verse or haiku and I tagged them thusly,
likes and followers came to me.
It has been over a year,
I think, and I only have a few followers, none of them faithful, probably
due to the scarcity of
thoughts floating by.
When folks click follow on the blog you are reading now, I always go to their
blog to see what they are adding to the collection that is the blog world.
And lately, I have been disappointed to find that they are selling something,
have 3,164 followers–for some reason I can’t fathom (unless
all they do is click follow all day long on every comment on every post). Is that truthfully a follow?
Anyway, that is why I’m writing this post and hitting return
every now and then; it is a rouse, my friends. This looks like verse
so I will tag it as such and my prose blog will be redesigned for hits.
Is that truthful? No, same as the other click everything people.
Don’t follow me if you think this is poetry.
Don’t click follow so that I will click follow for you.
Don’t follow me anymore if you clicked to show me your services–unfollow
me please, but you will never read this because you never intended to be back here.
Those of you who really like my writing are invited to read my
thoughts floating by.
If you would like to read them, you’ll find the title
of my other blog here–you’ve read it several times in the last minute.
Be sure to let me know when you arrive. I’ll be waiting.