"Now is the Winter of our discontent." (Richard III)

I really don't know where to begin. My head is filled with miscellaneous items swimming around in my brain--which I hope, at my age, is still viable enough to cast these in some kind of order onto this blog. Ironically and unhappily, the first topic has now birthed and unfortunately it is about death; John French, the principal of North Shore H.S. has died and I was sorry to get that news from Debbie (Benson) French, his daughter-in-law. John and I were friendly activists for the 30 years I taught at his school. He was a fine educator and administrator, and his leadership was laudable. He will be missed. Debbie is one of my most favorite students; she was and is as bright as a button on a sailor's coat (and where did that metaphor come from?) It's a mutual love affair--as far as love goes between teacher and pupil. Fortunately, Debbie is not the only former student that has popped up in my e-mail; there is Bob Marsden, Betsy Krumrine, Carol Schutzman, Ellen Bliss, Nancy Leo, Bob Perry, Wendy Martin, Alan Levine, Magda Machado--and I could go on. All this happens because of the computer--or it would not happen at all. I love to hear from these people, most of whom are now in their 50s and 60s, and who remembers any of their high school teachers enough to stay in touch with them? These students have wonderful things to say about me, and how gratifying is that after 30 years in the classroom?

And now, sadly, another downside topic has come to this page--the economy. I know there is enough about it in the media, but some of it is quite personal with me. Everything about the economy in this country reeks of--not "recession" but depression. I can clearly remember the situation in the 20s when millions of people were out of work, where homes were being lost, where lifetime savings were disappearing in the market, where homelessness was growing exponentially. I remember disheveled men and women selling apples for a dime on the street, and the concomitant lyric "Brother, can you spare a dime?" I remember how humiliated I felt when the mayor of Miami stopped at our door on Thanksgiving Day one year with a donated turkey. It was then that I realized how poor we really were. And I was eight or nine. In our paper today there was a picture of a homeless man and woman seated on a bench waiting for their turn to take a shower in a church. This was not a pretty picture and served to make me--and certainly others--thankful for what we have and what we are.

Strangely, it seems that only depressing things are coming out of my grey matter, and I'm sorry and apologize for that; but what can I do? I have been feeling ill the last couple of days because of the constant pain I'm feeling from my fractured rib and sore knee. I'm taking pain pills for it, but it doesn't seem to help very much. As a result of a bone density test my internist prescribed Caltrate D, an over the counter pill that supposedly helps to prevent osteoporosis. Rhoda picked up a bottle of that medication and when I saw the pill, I balked like a stallion in panic--the pill was huge and I knew I'd have a problem swallowing the thing, so I told Rhoda that I was not going to take any more pills. I'm over medicated as it is. Every time I come up with another illness, disease, or accident I get another pill prescribed. Rhoda says that I am a "disaster ready to happen." I am tending not to doubt that.

January 2009 saw the election of an exciting new president and February will see two birthdays--Rhoda's on the second (Groundhog Day) and mine on the 27th. If my mother had waited two more days I would have birthdays on Leap Years, and I would only be about 25 now instead of 85! What a nice thought to end this blog with--er, with which to end this blog. Felice año nuevo, and Vaya con Dios.