One Way we Know

When I read with S, the first grade student that I read with, we finished a story about an egg that a boy found and watched hatch. "What does hatching mean?" he asked.

I turned back to when the duckling first began to crack out of his egg and said, "well, see here, it means the duckling is breaking out of his egg. He's ready to come out into the world."

"Where's the mama duck?"

"This little story only gives us a part of the story. The mama must have gone away and left the one egg there to hatch."

"How do you know the mama duck left the egg. Could it have been the dad that left it? How can you tell if animals are mamas or papas?

"Well..." I started to smile, looking at S's animated face, full of energy, curiosity, and wonder, standing at this point, but still at my eye level while I was seated.

"Maybe you should ask your parents."

"We have two dogs. I asked about them."

"What did they say?"

"They said that they chose."

"Ah, so that's what they said. So they didn't exactly answer..."

I was trying to keep it together, but I reverted back to what happens in uncomfortable situations, where I know how I can tell the difference between a boy dog and a girl dog, but I can't say it to this first grader, so I start laughing, but I can tell he's not taking it personally or badly. And luckily he didn't think it too strange that I burst out laughing.

When I had gotten the nervous laughter out of my system, he said, "No, really, how do you know?"

"You know what? This is a very good question, S. And I'm going to try to find a book that helps explain and shows us how we know."

"That would be cool! Yeah, if you can bring a book next time, but you don't have to. But if you find one..."

**

Our reading time came to a close and I walked S back to class. On the way to work, driving down the road, past some apartments, I saw a female turkey with her feathers spread out in a full fan. She stood still, trying to get the attention of two male turkeys that were at the edge of the grass. Who knows how long she would be waiting.

**

When I got back to the office, I wrote a quick email to the public librarian asking for any books that may discuss the differences in female and male animals, differences that relate to their plumage or other such characteristics, something appropriate for a first grader. I appreciated their frantic search; they weren't able to find exactly what I was looking for, but did point me in the right direction.

In the meantime, I did a quick google search for a few animals that I know have visible differences: mallards ducks, lions, deer,–and sometimes, with certain animals, you really can't tell. So that's all I have for now and we can ask the school librarian, but I didn't have time last week.

For now, hopefully, he'll be satisfied with what I've got when I see him next, which is not much. At least I can provide him with some pictures of ducks, deer, and lion, that show one way we know.

Never Too Old

I would never have imagined myself in a million years taking an early childhood education (ECE) class. Two classes ago we walked through the different day care rooms at night on the community college campus to get an idea of how the environments were set up. The infant room brought an instant calm to my being. There were soft toys, books, organization, neutral colors, and pictures up high to look at. As we walked through the different rooms, notebook in hand, I felt that I could see myself in a setting like this one day. I especially liked the pre-school room. There was so much to explore, inside and outside.

I have to admit that I've always been more of an animal person. Children brought up fears in me–with infants, there is a fear of how fragile they are. With the older children, there is the fear of how honest some of them may be, and how well brought up they are to know what's nice to say and not so nice.

On the flip side, that's what's so great about children: They are totally honest.

Somewhere in my early thirties I was in a Safeway and I've always had tendencies toward shyness and insecurity. On this one day I had stopped off at Safeway on my way home from work. I used to bike to work then. I had my bike helmet on my head. It was a hot day and my face was hot and sweaty. I walked by an older child sitting in the shopping cart. she must have been five years old or so. As I walked by she pointed at me and said, "she's ugly." I just kept walking. Her dad was near by and I think he walked over to her and who knows what he mumbled to her.

All I know is that I felt about one inch tall. Even though I didn't know this child, those simple words fed into an insecurity that I felt. From a rational perspective, I could talk myself around it or better yet ignore the comment. But emotionally, it planted a small seed–and not that I had considered working with children then–I think I told myself I never would.

I can tell that a shift has occurred in me, and at this stage in my life, my relationship toward children has changed–is changing in positive ways.

I've said it before, and I don't mind repeating that I believe we all learn and grow at our own pace. In looking back at my childhood, there are many instances where I've had to battle with self-esteem issues. It feels good that as I continue going through life, the layers continue shedding, being replaced by new ones–stronger ones.

We're never too old to learn and grow.

Thinking about Haiku

I find that when I am trying to understand something, if I write what I’m learning and digesting, it sinks into my system better. I enjoy watching the seasons come and go, yet the other day when I passed the park near one of my favorite crepe myrtle trees—it really became apparent to me how many seasons had passed in my lifetime that I had not captured in a way that I would remember. I feel that only within the past few years have I really jotted down impressions on the page that will be there to remind me of the passing seasons and the elements unique to each.

The first time that I distinctly recall being introduced to haiku was in a college English course. The instructor had a fun air about him and you could tell he loved not only teaching but also people—he cared about us. He was trying to be funny and put the class at ease and began reciting a haiku by Basho. I honestly do not remember the haiku he chose. What seemed to stay in memory was the excitement the teacher had for the very short form and all that it contained. He read it again and again. Did we see, did we get it?, he seemed to be saying with his body language, book propped up in hand.

Haiku seems to me like sipping a sweet, strong port—over time and many small sips, the moment penetrates your being: One moment contained inside a seemingly small container—and often that one moment is the whole world reflected back.

I recently started reading a short book for children and adults alike called Haiku: Asian Arts & Crafts for Creative Kids (2003) by Patricia Donegan. Kigo makes more sense to me now. I first came across the word kigo on one of Keiko Amano’s blogs where she was discussing haiku. Ever since then, I have been more aware of the word when I read about and think about haiku. Each part of the world will have its own season words sometimes only making sense to those who live there. It made me start to think of all the critters around here and when they seem most apparent—which time of year, what part of the day—and all the other characteristics of a season.

I love the “checklist” in the book on page 8 (there is a descriptive sentence after each word in the book):

The Seven Keys to Writing Haiku

1. Form
2. Image
3. Kigo (Season word)
4. Here and Now
5. Feeling
6. Surprise
7. Compassion

For many who may read this, you might be thinking yes, we know this already. But for me, having a little more background and having it put forth in such a simple manner, makes me feel like I’ve just discovered something for the first time—as though it’s absolutely new to me.

I like baby steps; I never mind going back to square one again and again.

I respect and acknowledge the traditional form as part of the Japanese culture. I will never be able to fully understand haiku from the Japanese perspective. I will not be able to write it in beautiful Japanese characters, but I’m appreciative that there are ways for English writers to appreciate the form and its beauty—ways to work with haiku in English.

What resonates with me most is my love of nature; how I feel so much; and how I love trying to transfer images and impressions and reducing them to their most true form.

So the other day when I was observing the rose branches that are in the same park and how they were still bare but beginning to show signs of tight buds readying to bloom, I thought about haiku, about kigo—about how the seasons and months seem to go so fast and that the only way to slow them down is to capture them in images and words, especially haiku—because it seems the fewer intentional words, the more the moment is able to be recalled.

I want to remember the seasons, more so now than ever, partially because from one year to the next, they never seem the same. I want to be able to look back.

haiku
teardrop falls from the moon
living moment

(haiku written February 23, 2012 without a season).

Procedural Death ~ Processing

Different things have been on my mind. It’s a slow period at work and at times I get antsy. But once I accept and get used to this lull, I’m able to invite the clear slate and let my mind wander—about ways to improve or introduce new ideas. During the process, I usually stumble upon or keep coming back to interests that only started as small flickers and then I seize upon them. But one of my downfalls—wait—I mean one of the challenges that can be both productive and not so productive—the story of my life—is that I get excited about something new and either it takes or it doesn’t. If it doesn’t, I try to absorb as much on the surface as possible and then see where that leads me. I’ve come to accept that I love information, ideas, anything that gets me thinking and/or creating. And with that, I’ve had to accept that I end up not walking too steadily down any one path. I seem to keep many paths open.

For some time I’ve had a certain fascination with what happens from a familial and procedural point of view when someone dies. This curiosity became more embedded when I saw it play out in different ways that you see when you’re right up close with it.

Tax is not my thing. But I work for a small tax and accounting office and I envision that I’ll stay there until the boss retires. It’s my choice and there are many good reasons for me to stay. On the plus side, I have flexibility—which is very important—and I don’t like titles much. I assist: Sometimes that means making coffee, finding files, doing light bookkeeping, keeping the office in order; and sometimes it means preparing simple tax returns when we have simple ones. The plus side, for me, of a small office is that I get to do a variety of tasks. The main thing I enjoy about my job is being able to be helpful in some way—that’s why assistant positions always appeal to me. I’m a behind the scene’s person and I like it that way.

In order to make my job more interesting, I try to get to know the people behind the numbers through their tax returns or other documents. Of course, I have to keep this all to myself and inside the office for the obvious reasons. The small tax office offers a variety of different tax and accounting services, and an area that I am beginning to find quite interesting is related to Trusts and Estates. The area I’m most interested in is not on the tax side, but on the procedural side. So I was thinking, if the boss decides to retire early or if scenarios occur, I think I might enjoy being an assistant in a small office that deals in writing Wills and Trusts for families. This has catapulted me into learning a little more on my own. I started by doing a search on my Kindle Reader and found three titles that sound promising:

Living Trusts for Everyone: Why a Will is Not the Way to Settle Your Estate.

By Ronald Farmington Sharp

Kiplinger’s Estate Planning: The Complete Guide to Wills, Trusts, and Maximizing Your Legacy.

By John Ventura

Dead Hands: A Social History of Wills, Trusts, and Inheritance Law.

By Lawrence Friedman

Just by reading the preface and table of contents of the first one and the introduction and table of the contents of the last two, I’m really looking forward to reading these. The last one sounds like a very interesting read.

I am also planning on taking a two night class in the near future called “Trusts & Estate Planning Made Simple.” I don’t know how simple it can be made, but I look forward to bringing my questions and getting an overview of the process. I also hope to at least skim enough of the books by then, so that I don’t come with a completely blank slate.  

A big motivation for me in this area comes from what I have witnessed around me, both positive and negative, of what can happen to a family if someone dies without some form of instrument, be it Will or Trust or both. It really touches a deep core in my soul because the process can be made more manageable with some planning. I’ve gleaned a little here and there, and now I hope to dive in and learn more, and perhaps I will land somewhere where I can help in some way, even if it’s behind the curtain.