The Color of Mourning

Following the lead of Southern Muslimah and Momma Bean, my blog will be dressed in black to mourn those who are suffering in Gaza...........

Solidarity

UPDATE: Check out the Black Iris blog to see how you can help get food, blankets and blood to Gaza. Hurry, the food and clothes drop off is on Tuesday, Dec. 30!

First, let me say that this will most likely not be my most well written post. I am feeling too many emotions to think clearly: sadness, anger, frustration, helplessness and more sadness. For those of you living in another world than me, I am referring to the terrible atrocities that are being committed in Gaza against innocent civilians, children walking home from school, women doing their daily shopping, ambulance drivers who are simply trying to pick up the dead and dying from the middle of the roads.

I am not a dreamer. I know that many people who read this may be supporters of Israel and their policies - we will just have to agree to disagree. But, I beg you, how in God's name can you agree with the indiscriminate bombing of an entire city? First, they cut off all fuel supplies to Gaza (no heat for warmth, no fuel for cooking). Next, they cut off all food and medicine shipments (in case the lack of heat wasn't bad enough). And now, since neither of those did the job, they decide to begin killing with bombs. I know there are those who would argue that Hamas brought this on their own people by "allowing" a few Gazans to launch rockets into Israeli territory. Since when can we hold an entire people, specifically women and children, responsible for what a few people do? Aren't there at least a few people in America and Europe who do things that reflect badly on their governments? Would the world sit by and watch as Mexico or Canada dropped bombs on the entire US as revenge and expect them to do nothing? Let's think logically for a minute. How many people have been killed by rockets launched from Gaza in the past year - 4, 5 maybe? Now, how many people were killed yesterday in Gaza by Israeli bombs - at least 250 with over 400 wounded. To put that in perspective, it would take at least 60 years for Palestinian rockets to do equal damage.

Anyway, I know I am just rambling at this point. I have thought and thought about what I can do, personally, to change this situation and the answer I keep coming up with is nothing. I can pray for them, sure, but I want to be actively part of the solution. There is just nothing I can do. I feel helpless. I can do nothing to help, but I can show my solidarity.

I have decided, and I encourage all of my readers, including those not in the Middle East, to fast for at least one day - I will be fasting on Monday, Dec. 29 - from sunrise to sunset to feel the hunger that they feel. Instead of just fasting, try to imagine that you are fasting and bombs are raining down on you.

For those of you who want to take it a step further, I challenge you to live on what you have in your cabinets and refrigerator for the rest of the week. Don't go to the grocery, don't go to the bakery, don't even go to the mini-market. Now imagine that you have no choice and this is how you have to live.

Appreciate what God has given you. Be thankful. Pray for those who are suffering.

Still Busy.....

• Trying to get ready for my trip home. Not really - I haven't even started! Need to shop, need to pack, need to prepare kids, need to....., need to....., need to! Planning on hitting the "ballad" this weekend and doing some souveniour shopping. Buying gifts from Jordan for non-Arabs is hard. If you need gifts for Arabs, just take a suitcase full of jameed and some dried moulkiyeh :). I guess I am going to take sweets, fake camels, and miniature replicas of the Petra Treasury. Any other ideas?

• Have to let two people go at work tomorrow - not actually firing, just not renewing their contracts. Very hard. Very necessary. Something else my mama DID NOT TEACH ME! Feel kind of sick. I hear it gets easier after the first couple of times but I really doubt it. In times like this, I guess that it is good that I am an anonymous blogger.

• Got great news this week! Their is an audiologist/surgeons' conference in Amman this week and they will be performing 5 surgeries to restore hearing in FIVE children for FREE. We are helping locate the children for the surgeries and unfortunately of the 2 schools we contacted only 1 "remembered" to prepare the childrens' medical files for us to pick up so it seems that all 5 will be coming from one school. Where ever they come from, it is truly a blessing, alhamduillah, thank GOD!

• Got my grade for my first essay. It was a disappointing 87 but insha'Allah, God willing, now that I know what she wants I will be able to pull it up to an A by the end of the term. Someone remind me again, why am I doing this?

• For those of you who post comments which I do not reply to, SORRY! I really have the intention to respond but time passes faster than my I think sometimes.

Dedicated to Um Farouq

Seems that Um Farouq is not only a loyal friend, but also a loyal reader. Actually, I think we should refer to her as a loyal "blog checker" since there has been nothing to read on my blog lately! Anyway, she was complaining to me this morning because there is nothing new on my blog lately and encouraged me to get back to it. Honestly, I have composed so many blogs in my mind lately, just haven't had time to download them from my head to my computer. Since I still don't have time to type any post in its entirety and still keep it intelligible, I will make a short bullet-list of all the things I wanted to write about lately:

• My visit to the Amal School for the Deaf in Jabal Wehbdi. My company sponsored a "Sign and Speech Training Workshop" for parents and I attended a few sessions. I even took pictures that I wanted to upload and share. These are truly special people struggling to find their place in a society that has no place for them and they deserve a full post when I have the time. By the way, did you know that Jordanian sign language is its own special language. It is different from sign everywhere else in the world, even in the Middle East. How sad to think that these children can not communicate with anyone outside of Jordan.
• My upcoming visit home to the States for the first time in almost 7 years. I don't know exactly what I want to blog about. Maybe the mixed bag of emotions I am feeling leading up to the visit. But it is going to be good insh'Allah, right?
• My Phillipino domestic helper's obsession with Barak Obama. She is more informed about these elections than anyone else I know. Seems she keeps CNN on all day at home in the hopes of catching a glimpse of the Barakster himself!
• Struggles of attempting to raise socially conscious kids!
• My surprise decison to go back to school at almost 40! Something I have wanted to do for a very long time and probably one of my only regrets in life is putting it off so long. Please pray for me as I embark upon English 601, "Classics in Detective Fiction", during this summer term. What in the world am I thinking! Sometimes I think I have lost my mind!

Oh well, work beckons so that ends the list. Hopefully, insha'Allah, I will get back to blogging. Eventually!

"Sweet Home Alabama"

"Oh Susannah, Don't you cry for me.
For, I come from Alabama with a banjo on my knee!"

I just felt like listing all of the people I know personally in Amman who came her via the long road from Alabama.

1. Umm Farouq at the Southern Muslimah (Homewood)
2. Michon (Guin)
3. Mama Bean (Montgomery)
4. Mama Bean's mama who is actually just visiting but I will count her anyway (Adamsville)
5. Leeanne (Montgomery)
6. Karimah (Gardendale)
7. Reham (Homewood)
8. Kinzi's mom is an Alabama native and they still have family living in Montgomery.
9. Me (Calera)

How 'bout some fried chicken and mashed taters girls?

10. Oh, I guess we can count our (slightly) new Prime Minister of Jordan, Nader Al-Dhahabi who actually received his MA from Auburn University (Class of '89). War Damn Eagle!!!!!!!! I dont actually know him, but we will count him anyway.

It is really, really weird but it seems like for every 10 people who ask where I am from, at least one of them knows someone in Alabama.

1. Guy at the maid's office - brother in Huntsville
2. Taxi Driver - did some kind of military training in Huntsville when he was in the Jordanian Army.
3. Daughter's friend's grandmother's daughter - in Hamawood (translated to Homewood!)
4. Um Farouq's old downstairs neighbors - used to attend Friday prayer in Homewood masjid and heard my husband give khutba years ago! How weird!

Even weirder, Um Farouq and I were driving through Shmesani last week and spotted a red Volvo parked on the street with a "58" county Alabama tag. If I remember correctly, that would be my home county of Shelby County, Alabama. Hmmmmm, who are you mysterious red Volvo driver? I am dying to know!

The list goes on and on and on! Cool, huh?

It's Just Not Fair!

This morning I had a parent-teacher conference at my son’s school. He is finishing up the 8th grade and it has been a challenging year for both him and for me. Recently, his grades have been on the downslide and I have had some reports from his teachers regarding his attitude and lack of interest in school.

Wanting to get to the root of the problem, instead of just going ballistic on him, I sought the help and guidance of the school counselor and ask her to trail him for a week to find out what was going on. After following him around for the past week, today she was ready to present her report to both me and my son.

According to her perception of the problem, it seems that the main issue my son is facing is that he is hanging out with a bunch of boys from the “other side of the tracks”. The other side of the tracks being tracks which include houses with security guards posted outside and driveways longer than our street.

These boys don’t care about their education. They aren’t respectful of their teachers or their parents. They just don’t care. Why? You would think that the sons of such apparently successful (at least materialistically successful) families would feel immense pressure to succeed.

I am sure that the counselor saw the baffled look I was giving her when she continued with her explanation. Looking directly at my son she explained , “These boys will inherit major corporations from their fathers and will sit at the head of the table regardless of their grades. They will have accountants, secretaries, and assistants who will do all of their thinking for them and they will just be hollow shells who appear to be leaders. They can fail and will always have someone to write them a check to make it all better. You, on the other hand, my dear boy, are going to have to work hard and earn your way in the world so you best start now. You have a lot to give to the world, now get to work!”

Lesson: Life is not always fair. It is not about being fair, it is about working hard and having pride in your accomplishments. It is about the feeling you have when you accomplish something because you deserve it – not because it was given to you.

What a tough, but true lesson for a 14 year old boy. I sure hope he was listening!

Postscript: I suppose he was listening. He is laying at the bottom of my bed finishing up a short story that is due in the morning and has also finished up his math homework.

Score: Spoiled bad boys 0 / Awesomely blunt counselor 1

Grandaddy

I read today in my hometown newspaper, The Shelby County Reporter, that my grandfather has finally decided to retire after more than 40 years of service as a selfless public servant and city mayor. Once I read the paper this morning I called my sister, who happens to work in the same office as grandaddy and ask her why she hadn't told me earlier. Granted, I do live on the other side of the world so I usually find everything out last. However, this time I was the first to know! I guess being ahead 8 hours does come in handy sometimes. For example, I get to read the news while they all sleep. Evidently, grandaddy thought it would be easier to let everyone know via mass media that he was retiring as opposed to actually having to talk about it.

I know this must have been an excruciating decision for him. Calera has grown from a one red-light town to a bustling city under his leadership and he has every right to be proud of all of his accomplishments over the past 40 years. I can imagine that he feels like he is putting his child up for adoption, I just hope the adoptive parents do as great a job as he has.

I love you Grandaddy. Now pack up and go take Granny to the beach!

You Know You're an Ex-Pat Kid When.......

I found this list on Kinzi's blog and it literally had me crying tears of laughter! Not sure if non ex-pats will get it but I am pretty sure my readers living outside their home countries, especially in the ME, will be ROFL!

1. You can’t answer the question, “Where are you from?” (And when you do, you get into an elaborate conversation that gets everyone confused and/or makes you sound very spoiled.)

2. You flew before you could walk.

3. You have a passport, but no driver’s license. (please know American expats, your kids can’t get a drivers license without their ORIGINAL Social Security card. Don’t leave Jordan without it!).

4. You think California is cold. (well, Lake Tahoe does get pretty cold)

5. You watch National Geographic specials and recognize someone.

6. You run into someone you know at every airport.

7. Conversations with friends take place at 6:00 in the morning or 10:00 at night.

8. Your life story uses the phrase “Then we went to…” five times.

9. You can speak with authority about the quality of various international airlines.

10. You feel self conscious around all white people.

11. You get offended when someone turns down an offer for food.

13. You treasure chocolate chips and root beer as highly-valued commodities.

14. You have ever had to wait for prayer call to be over to finish shopping.

15. You are fascinated by any wildlife bigger than a gecko.

16. You know the true meaning of “football.” (and in your mind can hear the shout, “GOAL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”)

17. You know that it truly is a small world.

18. You can tell if the Arabic spoken in a film is that of a native speaker or and Italian or Mexican actor

19. You get all the jokes in ‘Aladdin’.

20. Rain is still one of the most wonderful sounds in the world.

21. You haggle with the checkout clerk at Target for a lower price.

22. Your wardrobe can only handle two seasons: hot and warm.

23. Your school memories include duck-and-cover drills. (Not really mom! At least not in Jordan ;) )

24. You are used to being stared at.

25. You think VISA is a document stamped in your passport, and not a plastic card you carry in your wallet.

A Gift Better than Gold

My dear husband recently came home for a super short and condensed mini-visit from Riyadh, Saudi Arabia and brought his ever-loving and slightly gluttonous wife a gift more precious than gold. For my readers in the US, you are probably scratching your heads and wondering what could be better than a gift that cost almost $1000 an ounce. For my fellow American expats who have been away from home for a while, you will understand the answer!

Nothing like a light and fluffy glazed Krispy Kreme donut to make my heart grow fonder. Thanks honey.

Dream Interpretation Anyone?

I had the strangest dream last night that my 14 year old son suddenly woke up with a full beard! He started with a "seven o'clock shadow" and within 5 minutes, it had progressed to this thick, bushy, black beard. Think this has anything to do with the difficulties I am having with letting my little birds use their wings?

A Lesson Unlearned

Mama, oh mama. How did you miss this one? Could it be that you were no better at it than I am. Maybe it is something that no mother has yet been able to pass on to her daughter. Maybe it is the eternal lesson unlearned never to be answered in any place or time.

I remember the morning I went away to college. We stopped into Hardee's for a "going away breakfast" of biscuits before we started our journey to Judson. I remember trying to avoid your gaze because I was embarrassed that you were sobbing ever so silently while others looked on.

I remember the last time we sat together in church before I was married. I remember trying to avoid your gaze because I was embarrased that you were sobbing ever so silently while others looked on.

I remember the afternoon of my wedding when you threw yourself across you bed and announced that you could not go to my wedding today as you sobbed, not quite so silently.

I remember the last time I saw you as I boarded a plane for a life in a faraway land. I remember that I could not look back for fear you would see my own tears, but if I had, I am sure that I would have seen you sobbing ever so silently.

I remember all the times I saw the hurt in your eyes and knew it was there because of me, and although I was sorry, knew that I could not do anything to ease your sorrow and pain without losing a little bit of me.

How do you let go? How do you let the little birds spread their wings and try out the winds?

I remember a poster that hung in my elementary school, near Ms. Faye's desk that had the most beautiful picture of an eagle soaring high in a bright blue sky. On the poster were the words,

"If you love something set it free. If it comes back to you, it's yours. If it doesn't it never was"

How do you ever overcome the fear that your precious child might not return once they fly freely in that big blue sky?

Thank God she taught me this!

Just in case your mother was slow in the advise department, please go here for detailed instructions on the correct way to take care of a baby. Thanks to Jen for this link, it made me laugh out loud!

Six Things To Do Before You're 18

This all started one morning when a guy named Naeem sat down to secretly enjoy a bowl of his children's Reese's Puffs Cereal while they slept unsuspectingly in the next room. As millions of people do each morning, to pass the time as he enjoyed his breakfast alone, he began to read the back of the cereal box. On this particular box back, there was a list of "18 Things to Do Before you are 18". The items ranged from "meet your idol" and "bungee jump" to "reach 18 years of age!" In a nutshell, he was struck by the lack of character building activities included in the list and set about to develop his own list of "18 Things to Do Before you are 18". By the way Br. Naeem, if you happen to read this post, I am pretty sure Kelloggs will not be printing your list on any cereal boxes anytime in the near future so maybe you could see about developing your own line of character building cereals!

Anyway, his list set off a blogosphere game of tag and I have just been picked to play by my good buddy over at the Southern Muslimah. Thanks!

Rules of the Game:
1. Post these rules before presenting your list.
2. List 6 actions or achievements you think every person should accomplish before turning 18.
3. There are no conditions on what can be included on the list.
4. At the end of your blog, choose 6 people to get tagged and list their names.
5. People who are tagged write their own blog entry with their 6 suggestions.
6. Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’re tagged.
7. Optional: You can include the image of the ridiculous Reese’s Puffs list in your post as a reference (I tried to do this but you couldn't read the list so I suggest everyone go to Naeem's Blog to read the original list)

6 Things to Do Before You're 18 (According to Moi)

1. Find a mentor.
A mentor, not an idol. A life-coach , a teacher, a positive example of how you want to live your life. Keep in mind that a mentor should be quite a bit older than you - wisdom comes with age and experience. A note to parents out there, I think it is a good idea for you to “introduce” your child to adults that you would like to see them emulate at an early age. Teens are more likely to choose a mentor that they already know.

2. Get involved in your community.
Volunteer to organize children’s activities at your local library, community center, mosque or church.
Organize a day to clean the local park with your friends.
Check out the Children’s Museum and see if they accept teen volunteers.
Hold a toy-drive for the local Children’s Hospital.

3. Find a cause you are passionate about and go directly to #4.

4. Organize your own charity or non-profit organization.
It doesn’t have to be quite as official as it sounds. Make up a name for your organization, write down a mission statement (who is your charity intended to benefit), and get to fundraising! It is great to learn that giving to others is the key to true happiness before you are 18.

5. Learn history from those who experienced it before it is too late.
What I would give to know which countries that my grandfathers served in during World War II. What was it really like during the Great Depression, the day JFK was shot, or the day man landed on the moon? Segregation and the Civil Rights Movement? How did my grandparents meet and fall in love? What was the most important historical event, in their opinion, that they witnessed during their lives?

6. Interact with people from different backgrounds as frequently as possible.
I mean really interact.

7. Get a job!
Make your own money, spend your own money, and save your own money. Learn how to budget your money before you move out!

Now since, I am new to the blogging world and I don't have connections with many other bloggers yet, I am going to ask my readers - yes all 5 of you - to send in your list of "6 Things to Do Before you are 18" and I will use them in a future post. Just type your list in a word file, cut and paste it to the comments section of this post, and press send. Happy Philosophizing!

Lesson #4 Don't Expect More Than You Ask For

This story has more than one lesson included but I chose Don't Expect More Than You Ask For as the title because I think it is a universal lesson that we all need to be reminded of every once in a while.

I am lucky to have a mother who caught hold of the concept of "Take Your Daughters To Work Day" long before it was fashionable. Mom happened to work at the same elementary school that I attended up until the 6th grade and every opportunity I could find, I was in her classroom (actually it was a trailer, or if I must be politically correct, a portable classroom). Obviously, she never let me skip an actual class to be with her, but I was there everyday after school, in the summer, and any other time she was working and I didn't have class.

I will never forget the way mom and Mrs. Hood, her colleague, made me feel that I was always helping out by being there. Never, not even once, did I feel like a kid in that classroom. I felt important, proud, and accomplished. Early on, they would let me fix the library area of the classroom or organize the SRA reading kits. As I grew older, I graduated to helping out with decorating the bulleting boards. The older I became, they allowed my responsibilities to grow with me.

When I went away to college, I would return home on Friday afternoons and head straight for the "trailer" to see my mom and Mrs. Hood. These Fridays held a great lesson for me. Many afternoons I would sit with the two of them as they helped a child struggling to read. Patiently and methodically, they would insist that the child sound out each letter of the word until they could decode the phonetic puzzle before them. One afternoon, I was helping a little boy write a caption under a picture that he had drawn - actually, I was telling him what to write. My mom looked over at me and I instantly understood the silent message that she was sending. A few minutes later, she came over and sat down beside the boy and they completed the caption together. After he had gone, my mom explained to me that one of the most important lessons when teaching a child to read is that children will only accomplish as much as you allow them.

If you expect that they can't do something - you will be right. If you expect that they can - they will.

I learned a lot in that classroom. I learned that everyone is not as fortunate as me. I learned that not all parents care that their children are educated. I learned that not all parents believe in their children and sometimes parents just give up. I learned that my mother was not one of those parents.

Treat your children with love and respect. Give them responsibilities and allow them to make mistakes. Motivate and reward them. Believe in them. But, don't expect more than you ask for......

Hello Jericho!

I was just checking my sitemeter, as I do at least one hundered times a day, and I was surprised to see that my last visitor was lurking from Palestinian Territory, Occupied, Jericho. For those of you unfamiliar with sitemeter, it lets me see the specific location of visitors and their ISP information. Usually it says something like, United States, Birmingham, Alabama and there is a cute little US flag icon. Rather conspicously, there was no flag icon beside this entry. Why? Palestine has an official flag . However, I must congratulate sitemeter for actually recognizing Palestine at all. Look on any world map and you will be hard pressed to find it listed anywhere. Bravo, Sitemeter

Happy Birthday

Wishing my mother and my grandfather a great birthday!

What Book are You?

I saw this book quiz on my friend Jennifer's website and I thought it would be really cool to see which book I am. Here are my results.....................

You're One Hundred Years of Solitude!

by Gabriel Garcia Marquez

Lonely and struggling, you've been around for a very long time.

Conflict has filled most of your life and torn apart nearly everyone you know.

Yet there is something majestic and even epic about your presence in the world.

You love life all the more for having seen its decimation. After all, it takes a village.

Ok, now honestly, I have read One Hundred Years of Solitude and I loved it. I would probably classify it as one of my favorite books. But, I must say that I am pretty sure that the quiz masters really got it wrong this time! First, I am anything but lonely and thank God, I am not struggling with much more than raising a couple of teenagers, a preteen, and the "baby"! Conflict has filled some of my life, true, but one of the things I learned from my mother is to be a conflict avoider at all costs and I am pretty sure that I am not responsible for tearing apart nearly everyone that I know. At least I hope not. Oh yeah, and I haven't been around for that long!

This is just a terrible, terrible quiz and I hate it! I am open to any other suggestions as to what book I may actually be. Suggestions anyone? Maybe Little House on the Prairie, Anne of Green Gables, even Webster's Dictionary!

Oh, I almost forgot. If you would like to find out what book YOU are, click here. Happy quizzing!

Lesson #3: People are always more important than things.

The funny thing is that I never really knew my mother taught me this. I never even knew that this was a lesson that had to be taught. It was just how I was raised. Part of the day-to-day operations of my mother's house. I always imagined that knowing, understanding, and implementing behaviors that put human beings ahead of "stuff" was inborn. Innate. Kind of like just knowing how to breathe. That natural instinct that we have telling us not to take a hot poker and jab ourselves in the eye just for the fun of it. Guess what, I was wrong!

Important Note: People who have yet to learn this lesson tend to be bitter, angry and alone.

Years ago, an elderly relative had an annoying tendancy to blame every single scratch on her furniture, crayon mark on her wall, or missing spoon, on MY children. Nevermind that there were about 5 other kids in the family the same age as my children. Nevermind that we always visited the house at the same time as said children. It was ALWAYS us! Not only did she show my children every defect she found, but she would always announce to other family members that my children were responsible for the damage. What was worse, when she spewed her accusations at them it was always in a viscious and demeaning manner. Needless to say, we have marked her off our visitation calendar as have many other people in the years since then. I once heard someone say, "If I am going to be miserable, I am going to make everyone around me miserable, too". She must have been one miserable lady! What a sad and lonely life.

When I invite someone into my home, it is usually with full knowledge that they will be bringing 5 kids, a cat, and their pet turtle with them on their visit. Or, maybe my guest herself is known for being a bit clumsy and breaking a glass now and then. So what? For me, the simple solution would be to probably not use the fine china for lunch. But, if she did break the good stuff, I would never belittle her, make her feel guilty, or unwelcome. Friends are way too important to lose over a silly glass or even over the family heirloom. Who wants to live in a museum or a glass shop anyway? A home should be comfortable, for everyone who enters. Anyone you welcome into your home , or anyone who lives there, should feel that they are valued more than something you picked up at a second hand shop 6 years ago.

A relevant story that comes to mind is one of my grandmother. In 1973, she bought a new set of living room furniture that came with a huge painting that hung on the wall behind the sofa. A few years later, while granny was sleeping, my little sister and I thought that we could probably improve the painting by adding a few special touches using bright purple fingernail polish. Well we ended up adding a whole lot of special touches and the picture was pretty much ruined! To make a long story short, that same picture moved with my grandmother to 3 other homes and always hung behind her sofa until her death in 2001. She never did try to fix it, not that it would have done any good. As adults, when we asked her why she still hung that awful picture up, she would always reply that it reminded her of two little angels from days gone by.

The way I see it is that either you would rather spend your time basking in the warmth of family and friends or alone warming yourself by the radiator on a cold, dark afternoon. The choice is obvious. Or is it?

Lesson # 2 Update of the Update (aka. More Pictures!)

I know, I know! This is not what my blog is supposed to be about. But who could resist posting such great pictures? The kids and I went for a walk around the neighborhood today and these are some great shots I thought I would share.

Playing in the snow is cool!

Peek-a-boo!

To help put things in perspective.....

This is my car, completely buried in snow!

For those of you have always wondered what

palm trees covered in snow look like!

Winter wonderland!

And............ I promise not to diverge from the blog topic for the next week!

Lesson #2 Update: We have pictures!

We had finished the first snowman on the block by 11:00 am this morning!

You can't have a snow man without a snow angel!

"You are never too old to play in the snow"

Snowman #2 - Notice the toes!

We just thought this was too cute not to share!

Lesson #2: You are never too old to play in the snow!

OK, honestly, this is not exactly the second lesson I wanted to share. I was planning to choose a lesson that would pull at your heartstrings, give you a profound new outlook on life, maybe even make you want to share it with your own children. Truthfully, I am not even sure that this is a lesson that my mother taught me! However, when I woke up to the winter wonderland outside of my window this morning, I couldn't resist sharing it with my readers. I really have to start another blog to deal with topics that aren't really related to this blog. But, until then, I guess I will just have to find a way to turn these stories I want to share into lessons my mother taught me - or at least, lessons she could have taught me.

Actually, this is a lesson that I have shared with my own children. From the time my children were babies, I have made it a point to share the snow with them. Here are some of the cool things we have done to share the snow:

• Eaten snow topped with molasses. I know this is a bad idea but I thought the risk was worth the chance for them to say to their children that they had actually done this. Kind of like, "when I was a kid..... we had to eat snow with molasses because we ran out of food during the blizzard"!


• Made a million snow men, women, and children. We are actually the "snow family" experts on our block and kids come from all around just to see how we do it. We really just learned through trial and error, but I have to admit, we are pretty awesome! Soon after we moved to Jordan, they had the worst blizzard in the past 50 years. We were ecstatic and suited up to tackle our first Jordanian snow. Downstairs, we started to work on one of our trademark snow men, including the carrot nose, button eyes, hat and scarf. A short while later, a neighbor approached my husband to inquire about our work. My husband came back all smiles announcing that now "everyone knew we from America"! I guess we did have some influence on everyone around us because every time it snows, you can look out the window and see happy little snow families for as far as your eye can see.


• Saved a snow ball in the freezer for a hot summer day. Inevitably, sometime in mid-July, when I finally get around to cleaning out my freezer, I always find a Ziploc bag with a mysterious blob of frozen snow. Seems they remember to do this, even when I don't!

• Ended a day of fun with an old fashioned mug of hot chocolate. Need I say more!

Note to my readers back home in Alabama........ Yes, it does snow in Amman, Jordan and no, I do not live in the desert. If you look at any map, you will see that share an almost identical latitudinal coordinate with you - Amman, Jordan (31° 57' 0") and Calera, Alabama (33° 6' 10"). Therefore, our weather is pretty much the same. At least the year round temperature is almost identical. We have one advantage over you which is that we have almost no humidity. On the other hand, Alabama gets to enjoy rain and thunderstorms year round - we have no rain from early May until late November.

Lesson #1: How to Tie a Cherry Stem With Your Tongue

Now, I am sure that many of my readers, ie. those who do not know my mother, are wondering what kind of sick and strange family I grew up in. But for those of you who know us, you are probably not surprised that this would be the first lesson I would choose to share with the world.

Believe it or not, I googled "how to tie a cherry stem with your tongue" and Google search returned 3,430 web pages with related topics. I guess we are not so strange after all! As a matter of fact, according to a recent poll by Survey Central, 18% of those surveyed actually share our talent. However, the most shocking figure in the survey showed that 37% of respondents have never even tried. Come on people, get with the program! You never know when you may be asked to do this. Maybe in your next job interview. Maybe on an audition for some new reality show. Maybe by a prospective mate. You just never know. Heck, I may still be single save my abilities with the cherry stem!

For those of you who are interested in testing your talents, and for the 37% of Americans who have never tried, click here for the easiest instructions I could find on how to tie a cherry stem with your tongue. Good luck and happy tieing!

Where I'm From

This poem is one I composed for a friend's blog early last year. I decided to make this my first post because I think it will give my readers a good idea of who I am, where I come from, and where I am going.

I am from a little cul-de-sac, a dead end in a long and winding road; from my granny’s cobbler made with blackberries picked on the side of the river road on a lazy summer day.

I am from the first house built on the block, the house that stood alone for so long. The house filled with a little girl’s memories of days long gone, the house waiting patiently for that little girl to return. A house whose days were darkened with great sorrow and later brightened with even greater joy. Dashed hopes, unfulfilled dreams overcome with a mother’s stubborn determination and independent will. Forgiveness and love.

I am from wicker baskets filled with dried lavender and African violets blooming in the kitchen window.

I am from Friday night football games cheering on my Eagles in a stadium bearing my father’s name. From cutting cute blonde bangs on the front steps of an old green house; from Big Ma, Pa Ed and As Levan.

I am from blind, unconditional love and Granny Roy’s hugs that could heal any broken heart.From the golden child aspiring to keep a dream cut short alive, to finding the self no one could have foreseen.

I am from everywhere. Saturday night gospel singings at the Walker County Auditorium and family bible readings beside an unlit fire. Rex Humbard saving the souls of the heathen on TV and Earnest Angsley healing only those who believed. It’s a wonder how I found my way; from Sunday Schools and VBS to Friday Prayers and Ramadan. What a shock for those I loved. What a shock for me

I'm from Cairns’ and Tomlin’s and Levan’s I never knew. And from Roy’s who run as deep in my blood as the water runs deep in the sea. The deep south, southern bells and rebel flags. Chilton County peaches and pecans off the tree behind Mama Clara’s house. Pecan pie.

From valiant young grandfathers who fought bravely in 1943, and the lovelorn grandmothers who waited back at home faithfully, the early ending memories of a man I never really knew.

I am from independent women and hard-working men. From a sister who I love and a brother I wish I really knew. From a mother who tried to understand and “father” who does the best he can. Thank you God for giving me what you have. Life is nothing more than our memories and my memories are grand.