Oh those high school years. An open world to newfound material and learning. Reading, writing and arithmetic no more. Time to embrace the challenges of Algebra, Literature, Biology, Latin and the like. Fourteen years and not turning back. Yes, time to forge a path to adulting. Bigger. Brighter. New and improved. An adult world was teasing its way into my life. 

Where would my path lead became the question. With above average grades, I had variety and choice in coursework. What I lacked, however, was confidence. I’m not that smart! I don’t know anything about foreign language. What is this thing called Literature? Would I take the easy road; graduate from high school, all the while grooming a career as a wife/mother? Or rather, challenge myself to a life outside my safe, comfortable farm existence?  

With a sense of inner security, I assumed a high school “degree” in Home Economics would suffice and assure me a bright future as a coupon-clipping housewife and mother. Regardless,  there seemed to be an itch deep inside that needed scratching. I wanted to taste more than what I imagined to be a life of ho-hum and expected.

Not realizing at the time, high school mentors made decisions steering me to a path of education beyond high school. I was “seeded” in upper level classes and placed on the academic/college bound track. Unfamiliar subject matter with little prior knowledge would be challenged and extended. Meekly courageous, I began this road less traveled. 

Peers with a clear vision for college appeared to easily slide into the likes of Geometry, Calculus, British Literature and Physics. Me? Not so much. Confidence issues became my encumbered path. As a result, my coursework consisted of bits of academic challenge supported by easy-peasy trails of common subject matter. Whether I was destined for college or not, I had variety and substance. With friends from both ends of the academic/social spectrum, I often thought of myself as, “best all-around”.

So, what were some of my favorite subjects in high school?” A few stand out like yesterday. Like X and Y and Apple Pie…

First and foremost, I found the challenges of math a passion. Add, subtract, multiply, divide; just refigure them in the correct order and you’ve got any and all things math! As a result, I found Algebra a most favored subject. Solving for “X” and “Y”, ahhh, fascinating and delightful! Plotting and graphing; Heaven! Yes, I believe Algebra became my first lust affair.

Add to this (pun intended), my favored of all teachers, Mr. Tommie Saylor. He was the young, friendly, handsome, coach-like mentor that introduced me to a foreign code of numbers and letters. He made Algebra seem so easy and fun. Thank you Mr. Saylor for opening a new door to exponents and binomials. You were the bomb!

Another field of study I found enjoyable and most familiar was Home Economics. Four years of easy “A”s enhanced my grade point average along with Momma’s expertise in food preparation, sewing and such. At home experiences from her provided a myriad of shortcuts and strategies of make-it-from-what-you-have. With Mrs. Edahl, however, Home Economics had a much different approach. Her lessons were those of rules, regulations and proper temperatures and utensils. There was more to learn than I had imagined.

Edith Edahl was likely the oldest teacher/mentor I ever encountered. Confident, her high-pitched, quivering voice of authority taught homemaker skills by the book. Never without her Hush Puppy pumps, Mrs. E. would Clop, clop, clop, about the room while reciting the good, bad and ugly of canning, stitching, etiquette and becoming a woman. 

Edith knew EVERYTHING! I loved and learned so much. Secrets to setting the perfect table, deveining shrimp, cold water pie crust and fresh apple pie. Learning specific cuts of beef, pork, and veal. Unfamiliar terms as hors d’oeuvre, sirloin, capon, hidden stitch and more. Common sense learning with a few flavors of new. 

And Miss Edith loved me. Often reminded that I looked much like her daughter Ionna, she’d snicker out with, “Two fried eggs on a plate, that’s you and my sweet Ionna.” My puny self lightly giggled in return. After all, there was truth in her assessment. 

Miss Manners may have been aged and retirement ready, regardless, Edith was a wealth of knowledge and etiquette in her own refined way. A welcome gift for our small farming community. 

All in all, a small rural setting for high school was a gift of wonderful preparation for future living. Supportive teachers, a dedicated counselor, along with a personal itch filled with ambition and drive, led to my education beyond high school. College was a challenge, however, scholarship and grant opportunities helped guarantee my success. I took the road less traveled and it made all the difference.

My lifelong teaching career was a result of these initial learned lessons from Tommie, Edith and Mom. Refinement and self empowerment, along with humble beginnings, helped pave the road to a meaningful career in education and parenting. And to think it all started with X and Y and Apple Pie!

Lessons Learned:

Step out of your comfort zone. Never be afraid of challenge. Step out from that Hula-hoop of safe and comfortable. 

When we stop learning, we stop living. Live to learn and Learn to live. Surprise yourself, I dare you!

Thanks for reading!

Autumn:  The third season of the year, when crops and fruits are gathered and leaves fall, in the northern hemisphere from September to November. Oxford Dictionary.

Michigan state motto:  “If you seek a pleasant peninsula, look about you.”

Yes, it appears we are in the midst of a delightful outdoor display with colors ablaze. Conducive temps, precipitation at minimal spurts, and light, abundant light. The ochres, scarlets, ambers and inbetweens. All contribute to Act III of Mother Nature’s show of shows. Our assurance of hope with her breathless scenes of happy, enlightenment and creation. Autumn is like no other in Michigan. 

The show she offers today is the product of her beauty treatment from the deep depths of the stark, colorless, white days of winter. Asleep, but ever planning, she has readied an onstage debut. 

Spring slowly peeks about as Act I provides us her opening of renewal and growth. Buds, blossoms and baby greens pop from their winter slumber. Days become brighter, warmer, anticipatory. All in place for the hype and celebration of Act II, summer solstice. 

Sunshine overload, happy celebrations, “Red sky at night, sailors delight” kind of sunsets. Mother Nature continues her lust for the outdoors and provides us many a day for leisurely walks, swims, picnics and the like. Metaphorically speaking, the middle is always best! Summer is our proof. 

And there you have it. Momma Nature providing us a play of sorts from beginning to end. Slumber, renewal, growth, followed by a slow, continuous mellowing to a return of slumber. Rest and repeat. Just as our seasons change, we too sense personal patterns of renewal and adjustment. 

The year 2020 has been just that, and for many of us, in a magnified sense. Social media appears to have expounded the “curse” of 2020.  We have, for the most part felt a sense of hopeless and helpless. A sense of loss.  Extreme weather patterns, flooding, unprecedented fires, personal health and education concerns, political angst and the list goes on. What more emptiness can we withstand? Spring, summer, fall. Are we ready to face the blustery, cold, unpredictable winter of our sleep? A look at Momma N. may be our reminder that despair can bring new hope. 

In a sense of remorse and atonement, Mother Nature has provided us a curtain call of beauty. What she struggled to birth and raise from the early days of 2020, Momma has finalized her act with a finale of anticipation and beauty. 

Will our curtain call to 2020 be the likes of what autumn has shared with us? A finale of something of awe and that which is good? I dare you to take the bow, the curtain call to end 2020 with applause and cheers. You have made it! Good, bad, or otherwise. You have survived! And it was good! 

As we round the corner of this year of faults and foibles, let’s commit to light. End this year with a lighter take on past, unpleasant actions and events of 2020. Wear the dress backwards as I mistakenly did! Don those unmatched socks for a day of grins and giggles. Drive the car on the red warning of beyond Empty! Yes, by all means, eat dessert first! Be the colors of autumn and delight in your life! Continue to be the star on your stage of life!

Thanks for reading!

Passage into and through those teen years is often arduous and downright scary. The body and mind are in a constant whirl of emotions, physical transformations, awkwardness and doubt. Change on so many levels. What is going on here? I am alone and scared, but of what? Who can I talk to? Will my friends think I’m weird? I am a freak of change! As is often the case, we believe NO ONE shares a commonality in these twists and turns of change. Crazy is real and ever present in our psyche.

I for one, fed these irrational thoughts and ideas throughout puberty. UFO-like topics of the unspoken stirred about my curly topped head. By age 11, I was facing uneducated fears of: unwanted, inappropriate hair, something called “a period”, bras and garter belts, boys and sex. I was naive Plain Jane looking for confident Starlet Sally. 

Reaching sixth grade became  my open door for pre-adulting. I had a date with Momma one spring evening to attend “Girl to Woman”. With uncertainty about this engagement, my 12 year old thoughts revolved around make up, the fine art of manicures, and leg shaves. I envisioned a night of blush, lipstick, nail polish, my own razor, all sponsored by Avon or the like. Free samples! Fun! Refreshments! Momma just smiled and winked her usual approval as we made our way to school.

Entering the gymnasium to echoed, anxious giggles of 50 plus girls and their moms was contagious. We tittered about with gleefulness. Facing us was Miss Briggs, the county appointed school nurse. Accompanying her were a film projector, viewing screen and several metal folding chairs. “Ladies, please take a seat. We are about to get started.” 

Our silliness was quickly abated as we filled the cold, stoic chairs. Momma tossed me a quick smile and wink. This was going to be the best one on one time with Momma ever!

The lights lowered as the projector began its performance. A short animated introduction to a uterus, ovaries, and estrogen provided the support to Nurse B’s presentation. Sponsored in part by Kimberly Clark and the county health department, the basics of menstruation was shared. Information was straightforward and unspirited. My thoughts became a blur of confusion. Mind and body were not tuned or willing to accept this newfound transformation that would soon take place! UGH!

As the lights returned, the gym was silent. I feared looking at my peers or momma. Really? Was all this change about to become ME? As her voice of authority echoed in the large spanse, Nurse Briggs presented an unemotional, well-rehearsed litany of facts regarding the female developmental “process”. With sanitary napkin and elastic belt-like contraption in hand, she proceeded to explain all that was needed to prepare us for our monthly ritual of “shedding”. 

“Girls, menstruation is nothing to fear. It’s a celebration of sorts….that you are now a woman. These are the basics when that time of the month arrives for you. Are there any questions?”

My thoughts continued the blur. This mind and body were not ready or available for womanhood. I was doomed! Disenchanted, I left the evening with my free samples of sanitary pads, and a lacy, pink belt. No cookies. No punch. No cosmetics!

No talk of the finer arts of makeup, nail care or becoming hairstyles. I was not prepared for this! As I joined my peers in silent shock, dismay, or whatever, our comments, giggles and questions abruptly ended. Momma leaned in, gently hugged me and whispered, “It happens to us all. It’s just another fact of life. After a while, it will be nothing but another day.” Her comfort had replaced my fears and it was time to grow from this brief lesson of life. 

All in all, it took my body about two years to reach the capacity of “Girl to Woman”. Curly frocks, puny, flat chested and an absence of hormones, I longed for my blossoming to appear. Twin sisters nearly a year younger had reached this bouquet

before me. Taller and proud, they discovered the world of periods, bras and boys well before me. In essence, they were reaping the garden of grow up before I had plowed the plot! 

Tempting to call myself physically deformed, my garden eventually bloomed during the summer of my 13th year. From that point onward, my adulting continued as a search and rescue operation via sisters, girlfriends, Seventeen and True Confession magazines. Tidbits of fact were often mired with blinding fallacies of beauty secrets and heartthrob gossip. Through it all, however, an adult female emerged.

Alas! There was a silver lining to my inept knowledge of womanhood! Development and maturity into a woman was not as morbid, scary or unique as first imagined. As much as I thought I was so different from my peers, I was truly one in the same.

My monthly reminder has waned and I now enjoy the fruits of emotional and physical maturity. Beautiful daughters, a wealth of common knowledge and the fact that my developing life was NOT unusual, scary or freakish. 

Time and balance played their parts for us all. In return, we are the admirable products of change and ever-evolving life. Maturing to womanhood is as individual as we ourselves create. Once again, Momma was right. “It happens to us all, it’s just a part of life.” Thank you Momma and Thank you, Nurse Briggs. It is beautiful to be a woman!

Lessons Learned

We truly are one in the same. Differences. Individualism. We have minute disparities compared to all that we have in common. 

Imaginations can be helpful and harmful. Sanity and common sense about oneself keep imaginations healthy.

Thanks for reading!