Write Away Seminar: Love Letters

Teenage Sweethearts

We were lingering on my porch when Ken said he had a knock-knock joke for me.

"Knock knock." "Who's there?" "Terrify." "Terrify who?" "Terrify tissue?"

And then he did. Our braces knocked together, and I discovered later that my lip got cut. What did it matter? I was in love.

I was 14 and he was 16. We were in the ward Roadshow together which involved lots of practices. Mom would drop me off at the old Holladay 8th ward, knowing I was being supervised by my church leaders. I would go in one door alone, and out the other with Ken. We walked to the cemetery holding hands. During our on-stage moments, we rolled up in the curtain together and giggled. He sat with me in church and put his arm around me (without touching my shoulder, of course, but I knew he wanted to) with my dad watching.

It was an on-again, off-again romance. Off during school, on in the summer. Off when he had another girl-friend. On when he saw me at Sunday School. It was good enough for me.

Then he got his mission call to Sweden for two and a half years. There was a flurry of going-away-parties, and I was invited to his house for a farewell dinner. His grandparents were even there. If this wasn't a proposal, I didn't know what was. Obviously he wanted me to wait. I was invited to go with his family downtown to the Assembly Hall the night before he was official. We sat through a testimony meeting of 300 missionaries all declaring their love for family, girl-friends and, oh yeah, the gospel. I waited for two hours to hear him say, "I appreciate Marty" in front of everyone. When I heard those words, I knew. I would wait.


Every week I wrote faithfully, outside under our lilac bushes, or sitting at the desk which displayed my Ken doll dressed in a suit and tie. It was all very romantic. I kept him up-to-date on all the neighborhood news, and included little quotes and scriptures, cartoon clippings, jokes (kind of like my blog.) He was way too busy converting Swedes to write back, but I was understanding and patient. The perfect girlfriend.

A year or so later I went to BYU. All the girls in my dorm were writing to missionaries, and some of them were waiting, too. I noticed that they huddled around the mailboxes when the postman arrived, and joyfully snatched their letters from his hand. Their boyfriends must not be converting anybody, I thought. They had so much time to write.


A roommate commented that I was being duped. "Why are you still waiting?" she asked. "He never writes." Irritated, I told her he wrote when he could, but deep down I started feeling exploited. It wasn't considerate, I realized. He was totally rude! After stewing over it another month (without any mail) I carefully composed a Dear John. All my roommates contributed phrases, and I sent it off in a huff.

The response came quickly. "Oh. Sorry I didn't ever write. I didn't know you were waiting."



Homework: Do any or all or be inspired.

~Write a letter to a person who's been rude to you. Let it all out. Do not send it.

~Have you ever written a letter you regret sending? Write about that experience. Prompt: "I knew I shouldn't have sent it the moment I dropped it in the mailbox. It was to_______"

~Write a mushy love letter to your true love. If you don't have one at the moment, write to the one who will be coming along someday.

Write away!

P.S. I'm home now, and anxious to read your homework assignments again. Leave a link.

*If you do any part of this assignment on your blog, please link it back to TravelinOma and provide proper attribution. Leave a comment here (with a link to your homework if you want to share it) and/or a link to your blog (so we can get to know you.) School Days has open enrollment so join anytime. No make-up work required! If you're new, click here for an orientation.

How to Read My Blog

Welcome to TravelinOma

There's two sides to my blog: Main Post and Sidebar.

The Main Post changes regularly. (I post 4-5 times a week.) At the bottom of each post there's a box with a link to Comments. Click there to read comments or leave one of your own. If you don't know how, but want to comment, type in your comment, sign it or not, click on anonymous and then click publish your comment.

The section on the right is called the Sidebar. That part stays the same. If you click on any picture on my sidebar, it will open up on the screen to an inside story. (I've grouped my most requested topics together, so you can find posts on Grandma Tips, Motherhood, Creative Writing by clicking the picture.) You can also click on any phrase or title that's underlined and it will link you to a post on the subject. Click the back-button to return to where you were.

At the bottom of the sidebar there's a link to my popular School Days Seminar, links to favorite posts on my core philosophies of life, and an index of all my blog categories. Find something that interests you and click away.

You're always welcome here!
Email me at
martyhalverson@gmail.com

School of Thought Seminar: Post Card NYC

Today we're eating the Big Apple. Here's a postcard from New York City: land of the Statue of Liberty, Fifth Avenue, Ground Zero, and David Letterman.

Since we're discussing your philosophies in this class, I'd like you to take one of those topics and write a paragraph to express how you feel.

Homework: Do any or all or be inspired.

~Prompt: "When I see a picture of the Statue of Liberty I get chills. To me, it means . . . "

~Prompt: "Fifth Avenue is the code word for shopping. When I think of shopping I . . ."

~Prompt: "I'll never forget where I was on 9-11. I . . . "

~Prompt: "I go to bed every night with Dave. But lately . . . "

*If you do any part of this assignment on your blog, please link it back to TravelinOma and provide proper attribution. Leave a comment here (with a link to your homework if you want to share it) and/or a link to your blog (so we can get to know you.) School Days has open enrollment so join anytime. No make-up work required! If you're new, click here for an orientation.

Family Matters Seminar: Postcard of Strength

Strengthen the Family

"If you want your children to keep their feet on the ground,
put some responsibility on their shoulders."
—Ann Landers

I learned something about this when I went on Pioneer Trek.

Homework: Do any or all or be inspired.

~Write about a time when you felt a heavy responsibility. What did it teach you? Prompt: "I didn't think I could do it. I________"

~One mother wrote, "Don't do anything for your kids that they could do themselves." How do you feel about that statement?

~Another mother wrote, "My job is to put myself out of a job." List 10 things kids need to learn to become self-sufficient.

*If you do any part of this assignment on your blog, please link it back to TravelinOma and provide proper attribution. Leave a comment here (with a link to your homework if you want to share it) and/or a link to your blog (so we can get to know you.) School Days has open enrollment so join anytime. No make-up work required! If you're new, click here for an orientation.

Book Shelf Seminar: Post Card to Authors

Dear Class,
I'm assuming you're all behaving and studying hard. I'll be back next week. In the meantime, please read the material in these two chapters, and complete the written assignment.

Love,

TravelinOma

Do you ever wish that you could find just the right book? Maybe you should Write your own!
You may be an illustrator, too. I've been trying to find a solution in that department. For The Doll Collection we had a photo-shoot. I dressed up my grandkids and told them how to pose for the shots.

Homework: Do any or all or be inspired.

~Have you looked high and low for a book that doesn't seem to have been written? On what topic? What would be the title? Who do you wish was the author? Could you write it?

~I love the book No, David. Did you know David Shannon wrote the book using pictures he drew as a little boy? Look at some illustrations and decide if you could illustrate your own book.

~Write a paragraph about having a substitute teacher. Idea: "Mrs. Sullivan was the world's worst substitute. She made a boy stand with his nose in a circle she drew on the blackboard because he was bad."

*If you do any part of this assignment on your blog, please link it back to TravelinOma and provide proper attribution. Leave a comment here (with a link to your homework if you want to share it) and/or a link to your blog (so we can get to know you.) School Days has open enrollment so join anytime. No make-up work required! If you're new, click here for an orientation.

Travel Studies: Postcard with Photos

It's a snap!

Anne Lamott wrote:

"So I grew up around this man who sat at his desk in the study all day and wrote books and articles about the places and people he had seen and known. He read a lot of poetry. Sometimes he traveled. He could go anyplace he wanted with a sense of purpose. One of the gifts of being a writer is that it gives you an excuse to do things, to go places and explore. Another is that writing motivates you to look closely at life, at life as it lurches by and tramps around."— Bird by Bird

I started traveling as a Sherpa. Dee loaded me down with a tripod and camera bag, heavy with interchangeable camera bodies and wide-angle lenses. He needed to be unencumbered, with his hands free to snap fabulous candid shots. His job looked more fun than mine.

A few years ago I got a darling red CoolPix digital camera. I took the instruction book to Kinko's and had it blown up and spiral bound so I could actually see the words and study the illustrations. I experimented with modes and scenes, and figured out it's many features.

It has changed the way I travel! (No longer is shopping the main activity.) I try to capture my experience in photos, and use them to tell stories. For example, the stamp market in Paris didn't hold tons of appeal for me. It was Dee's activity. But with my CoolPix I searched for cool pics and the morning was fascinating.

Luckily with digital cameras, there's no concern about wasting film. Take as many shots as you can to insure you'll get a good one. And remember that even professional photographers have mishaps! Marta gave some great tips for the non-professional photographer the other day. It you missed her post, read it here.

Homework: Do any or all or be inspired:

~Page through a glossy travel magazine. What do you see? Are the pictures taken from unusual angles? Did the photographer use a natural frame such as trees, or a window? Do people in the photo look posed or natural?

~Find photos of a recent trip. Weed out any photos showing people staring stiffly at the camera, the blurry ones, or those taken from so far away that you can't remember what they're of. Choose ten that could be used to tell a story of something you saw or learned. Collage them and frame, make an iPhoto slideshow with an appropriate soundtrack (it's very easy using the iPhoto prompts) or make a scrapbook page.

~Pretend you're writing an article for a travel magazine. Take your camera on a walk through your neighborhood and take pictures to illustrate it in a colorful, positive way. Practice your skills and be ready for your next trip!


*If you do any part of this assignment on your blog, please link it back to TravelinOma and provide proper attribution. Leave a comment here (with a link to your homework if you want to share it) and/or a link to your blog (so we can get to know you.) School Days has open enrollment so join anytime. No make-up work required! If you're new, click here for an orientation.

Write Away Seminar: Post Card from Philly

Art by C. E. Turner

I'm off! This week I'm a TravelinOma in deed, as well as word.

Faraway grandkids change their identities every few months, so I need to get reacquainted with my Philly group. I can't wait.

I'll get to lay on their beds at night whispering secrets and singing lullabies, listen as they tell me about horseback riding, soccer, or ow-ies. I'll watch ET, Survivor Man, High School Musical and Spongebob, somersaults in the family room, or tricks on the trampoline. I'll sit at the table and be served wholesome meals, while I philosophize with their folks, discussing everything from building a deck to why people watch The Office. I'd rather be with my kids and grandkids than anywhere else I can think of. It energizes me to see them in the homes they've created for themselves. And it validates the years of active mothering we endured together. It is pure joy to be an observer of their busy lives.

The TravelinOma Kit is packed this time with a Halloween Party. I've already sent the invitation, and I'm taking my costume, decorations to haunt the house, plus games, prizes and spooky tales.

You, however, don't get to party. School is still in session. Postcards will arrive daily, right here, with links to a classroom discussion. And you'll still have homework. I won't be reading your assignments as closely this week, so everybody check each other's work.

To get you started, click over to Sher-in-dipity for a quick laugh, and then visit an old post I wrote about blogging.


Homework: Do any or all or be inspired.

~Your grandma has just come to visit. She knows nothing about blogging, facebook, twitter, and she's pretty fuzzy about email. How would you explain your hobby? Prompt: "I know it seems like I'm just wasting time on the computer, but it's different. It's like_______."

~List 5 things you'd like to see in a Blogger's Book of Etiquette.

~Write about a relative who came to stay at your house. Idea: "Grandpa came to stay with us after his open-heart surgery. It wasn't exactly fun. I remember . . . "

Write away!

*If you do any part of this assignment on your blog, please link it back to TravelinOma and provide proper attribution. Leave a comment here (with a link to your homework if you want to share it) and/or a link to your blog (so we can get to know you.) School Days has open enrollment so join anytime. No make-up work required! If you're new, click here for an orientation.

School of Thought Seminar: It's Debatable

Smarty Marty, 1964

My dad used to say that I'd argue that black was white. I'd answer hotly, "I would not!" Actually, I love a good debate. Some of the best have been inside my own head.

Anne Lamott said it perfectly. "My mind spends much of its time arguing with people who aren't there. I walk along defending myself to people, or exchanging repartee with them, or rationalizing my behavior, or seducing them with gossip, or pretending I'm on their TV talk show or whatever. I speed or run an aging yellow light and don't come to a full stop, and one nanosecond later I'm explaining to imaginary cops exactly why I had to do what I did, or insisting that I did not in fact do it."

The folks in my head hear incredible justifications of why I do what I do, and think what I think. It's all because of Mr. Greaves; he taught debate at Olympus Jr. High. I landed in his class by accident when I signed up for Speech in 8th grade, in preparation for my acting career. Rather than preparing us for the stage, he was preparing us for life. The regular assignment was to argue for an idea for three minutes, and then switch places to argue against the same issue. Researching both sides of a subject opened my mind to both points of view.

"I see your point!"

In the Deseret News, Sept 10, 2009, Lois M. Collins wrote about her experience:

"My debate class was not just a place where I could stand up and argue my point of view in a forum where people had to listen . . . the lasting value was actually in the fact that it forced me to listen to those who saw things differently, or even adamantly opposed my view. That was the key to writing an effective argument.

"Although my job as a debater was to defend my assigned position on a topic, there were a lot of times when I thought, 'He's right about that,' or 'I never thought of that,' or 'I did not know that.'
It was a learning process that showed me how to do research and helped me refine both my own beliefs and my arguments in support of those beliefs. It gave me a lifelong love of well-reasoned discussion.

"So many of us are out of our comfort zone if we are even just forced to listen to those who hold different ideas about subjects like politics or religion. And it's not enough to just refuse to listen. It's pretty common to dismiss entirely or show open disrespect for those with an opposing viewpoint.

"My dad had very strong beliefs, among them the importance of listening to others and being part of a civilized dialogue. 'All viewpoints should be aired,' he said. The only thing he would not tolerate was rudeness. He demanded we be respectful as we disagreed.

"He taught me that being willing to listen only to those who think the same way I do eliminates all chance of growth. No surprises. No new thoughts or discoveries or opportunities to learn."

Debate led me to an addiction to politics. I follow political talk shows, blogs, newspaper op-ed pages—I love the entire process. I admire the audacity of politicians even when I think they're idiots. It's thrilling to witness their commitment to a cause. While I rant and rave at the press, I review and read anything they give me. And, after I've listened to many sides of the same issue, I draw my own conclusions.

Experience colors our politics. Some of you will remember that I'm obsessed with health care—we need it.

The nearly dead, 2006

Because of pre-existing conditions, we can't get insurance. But because of those same pre-existing conditions, we have a ton of medical bills. And we're getting even more. Dee's ambulance ride a couple of weeks ago cost $1300. (We got an automated call the day after his heart attack, demanding immediate payment!) Plus the hospital bill is $45,000 (not counting the emergency room, the cardiologist, or the anesthesiologist, whose bills are still in the mail.)

After meeting with the billing department, we received an "uninsured discount" of $11,000, which sounded generous until we remembered that we still had at least $34,000 that we're responsible for. On our way home from the hospital we stopped at the pharmacy. Ninety days worth of new meds cost $856! I'm not kidding. The pharmacist said, "Whoa. That's more than my house payment."

And, of course, there are all the ongoing pre-existing conditions. The heart problems are new. I could go on and on and on . . .

I've been surprised at the response we get when we voice our hopes for health care reform. People are openly rude about it. I've had friends look at me as if I supported terrorism! Some have been disbelieving, not of the situation, but of me. "Surely, if you just called somebody, there would be a logical way out of your predicament," they suggest. That's why people like us are calling the president. Everybody else hung up on us. (Frequently, it was the receptionist at the doctor's office.)

Today when I asked my ophthalmologist for a sample of the eye drops he says I can't stop using ($130 for 30 days) he gave me a tiny bottle and suggested I contact the drug company for "help." He might not realize that the paperwork each company requires (bank statements, tax returns, etc.) will indicate that we make too much (anything over $30,000) to qualify. And who wants to go through the equivalent of a refinance every time they need a prescription? (Here I am, going on and on again.)

Changes in health care won't help us. Medicare will have kicked in by the time anything actually happens, if it happens at all. But our experience is not unique or even uncommon. Millions of families are worried sick, wondering how they would weather a hailstorm of doctor bills. It's a scary way to live. I know.

Your anxieties are probably different than mine. Maybe you drove the ambulance, and you're worried that we can't pay you in time for your new baby.

Our newest baby.

Or maybe you're concerned that your premiums will go up if people with lots of diseases join your insurance group.

Amy sick in bed, 1985

I think your pains are as legitimate as mine. I hope I'd react sympathetically and listen with courtesy when we discussed it. We could respectfully talk it over, share thoughts and valid experiences, without shouting the rhetoric of hysteria. So, would either of us change our minds? That's debatable!


Homework: Do any or all or be inspired.

~What is a politically-charged issue you feel strongly about? Forget the rhetoric you've heard. Using your own words and experience, tell why this is important to you.

~Have you had a discussion/argument with a loved one recently? Write about it from the other person's point of view.

~Remember a class that had a significant impact on your personal philosophy of life. Think about the teacher, and send kindly thoughts.


*If you do any part of this assignment on your blog, please link it back to TravelinOma and provide proper attribution. Leave a comment here (with a link to your homework if you want to share it) and/or a link to your blog (so we can get to know you.) School Days has open enrollment so join anytime. No make-up work required! If you're new, click here for an orientation.

Marty Halverson's Ghost Stories

I'm married to a professional Ghostbuster.

Dee hunts for skeletons in closets, libraries, and archives. He sifts through crumbled letters, faded diaries, disintegrating scrapbooks, and dusty boxes from under somebody's bed. He not only hunts for ghosts, he learns to love them, and weirdly enough they love him back. We can always tell. They lead him to clues and secrets that will flesh out their story.

In the graveyard of old newspaper clippings and photo albums the relationship starts: Dee and the ghost begin bonding. Actually, his best friends (and most enthusiastic clients) are all dead. But they're still real. Dee's joy is introducing descendants to ancestors, giving them a contact to their past. Matthew Heiss, archivist in the LDS church history department, said, "Without a history, we are like people with amnesia. When we have a record of our past, we have a memory."

I've learned a few tricks of the Ghostbuster trade, searching for Bohemian Omas, princesses and pirates. Now I'm haunted by my own ancestors—I think it might be an age thing. Suddenly I'm dying to get acquainted.

Harbor Malmo

Tilda Louise Borgeson Lavin Lundgren was born in 1867 in Malmo, Sweden. She married Anders Lavin when she was just eighteen and at nineteen had a baby boy they named Theodore. She wrote this:

I was raised as a devout Lutheran. When my tiny boy Theodore died at just two years old I began to question God. At this time of sorrow I found a new faith that brought hope of eternal families. On February 4, 1886 the ice was cut in the river and my husband and I were baptized into the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

I knew I would be ridiculed by my family for what I had done, and I was right. All the members of my family turned against me.

Street in Malmo

Only a few days after my baptism I met my mother on the street and she crossed to the other side so as not to speak to me. (In time they became more friendly and eventually my mother,

my sister, and her family also joined the Church.)

By then a new little boy, George, had filled the void in our hearts left by the loss of our baby. We decided to emigrate to Utah in America to join other Mormons who lived there.

The ship was crowded, and the trip was long and difficult with much illness on board. I was very frightened, as I was only 22 years old.

On board an immigrant ship, 1880's.

When we arrived in Salt Lake City my husband was very ill. I became a dressmaker, and worked at a restaurant where I did cleaning. I went early in the morning and made sure I was through before anyone came, as I didn't want anyone to see me doing that kind of work, though it was honest labor.

SLC Main Street about 1900

If I had had any money I would have gone back to Sweden, where I could get better work. Those were trying days, and I almost lost my courage. Learning the language was a very hard task. The Lord helped me learn English and adjust to the customs.

In just three years we already had an adorable baby girl, Agnes, and another precious son, Joseph. When he was a year old he became very ill. It was the Lord's will that he should go, but it was terribly hard to lose him.

Not long after this great sorrow another beautiful blue-eyed baby was born to us. How proud we were of him. I loved to lie on the bed and look at him. He was such a healthy baby and when my friends came I was over-anxious to show him off.

One day while I was busy in my kitchen, a never to be forgotten accident occurred. I kept a wooden tub outside by the water pump. I left just a very small amount of water in the bottom of it to keep it from drying out and cracking. I had just checked on my baby and then went about my work. Within seconds I heard a terrible scream. My neighbor had come to get water and there she found my baby, Henry, face down in the very shallow water in the tub. He had died instantly, it seemed.

The sorrow was almost more than I could bear. Everyone did all they could for me, but I failed to be comforted. Baby Henry did not have a wet spot on him. His little life was just snuffed out so quickly. Oh, the shock was terrible! He was just a little over a year old. I felt the hope go out of me.

Our oldest son, George was then about seven years old. He came to me in my sorrow and tried to comfort me. I was so bereaved I scarcely knew what I said. I answered him, "Oh, you will probably die too, I guess." Instead of turning from me he looked up at me and said, "No, Mama. I'm not going to die. I will grow up and make you proud, and you will be glad."

It seemed like there was magic when our eyes met. As he said this to me, something in my soul awakened. The faith my little son showed at this time acted as tonic from heaven to me. My faith in God's love was made stronger, and I was again able to walk through this garden of Gethsemane. Little George's prophesy was fulfilled. He did grow up to make me proud, and I was glad.

My prayer from that day on was that I would prove to be worthy to meet my babies Theodore, Joseph and Henry again. I always gave thanks to God that he allowed me to keep my children George and Agnes, who lived to raise seven children each. I have had much joy and gladness in my life."

Lundgren Family, 1930

Tilda's daughter Agnes is the one with glasses. This is her husband Axel Lundgren and their seven children. My mom, Junie is the one on her Dad's lap.

After Alex Haley published the book Roots, he said, "My hope is that Roots will start a ground swell of longing for people everywhere to go digging for their own roots, to discover a heritage to make them proud . . . "

As I get older I feel a yearning to know my history. Referring to someone famous, a reporter said, "He's from an old family," as if the rest of us just popped up from nowhere in recent generations. We each descend from "an old family" with heroines, rogues, villains and champions, and tales of tragedy and valor that could encourage us. Stories make these folks come alive.

Dee has noticed that every family has a self-appointed historian with a passion for keeping the records and photographs. Alex Haley discovered oral historians called griots in Africa. He said, "They are men trained from boyhood to memorize, preserve and recite the centuries-old histories of villages, clans, families, and heroes. Some are keepers of family stories so long that they can talk for three days without ever repeating themselves."

The last sentence in the Old Testament talks about ghost busting. In Malachi 4:6 it says:

"And he shall turn the heart of the fathers to the children,
and the heart of the children to their fathers . . ."

Has your heart been turned? Do you believe in ghosts?

Homework: Do any or all or be inspired.

~Get acquainted with a few of your own ghosts: Figure out who the family griot is and schedule a time to visit them.

~Find some pictures of your grands and greats. Do you look like any of them? Memorize the full names and birthdates of all four grandparents.

~You saw things differently as a child. Write a description of your parents from that perspective.

*If you do any part of this assignment on your blog, please link it back to TravelinOma and provide proper attribution. Leave a comment here (with a link to your homework if you want to share it) and/or a link to your blog (so we can get to know you.) School Days has open enrollment so join anytime. No make-up work required! If you're new, click here for an orientation.

Book Shelf Seminar: Scary Tales

Halloweeny or a Hallowinner—
Which witch are you?

October 1st used to give me shivers. Halloween was fast approaching and I was the ghoul who was supposed to make it thrilling. As a mom it was my least favorite holiday. As a kid it was my favorite.

My mother created award-winning costumes. I just wanted vampire teeth. Mom hand-beaded my Indian Princess ensemble, and trimmed it with real suede fringe. Long grass from the field was sewn into my Hawaiian skirt and coconut shells attached to a tan leotard. Dangling Gypsy earrings were made from the rims of canning jars, which Mom painted and glittered. My off-the-shoulder white peasant blouse had golden spangles, and the skirt was flounced with a variety of colorful fabrics. Mom was a Hallowinner.

I was a Halloweeny. My costumes were witty and the kids didn't get the joke. Coming up with seven clever costumes was a yearly horror more terrifying that any goblin I might see. One year I made Gabi go as a table. I cut a hole in the middle of a big box, cut the bottom flaps off, and covered it with a tablecloth. Plastic dishes and silverware were glued on. My mortified daughter stood in the middle of the table and carried it waist high, dressed as a vase. Her neck and arms were green and she had flowers on her head. It was avant-gard, daring, and un-cool for a fourth grader. She just wanted vampire teeth.

But I had a few tricks under my pointy hat. Ghost stories. With the lights out, and a few candles burning, I told the one about a couple parked in lover's lane. "As they cuddled, they heard on the radio that a boy and girl were bludgeoned to death by a man with a hook instead of a hand. 'I'm afraid,' the girl whispered to her date. He held her closer. Suddenly there was a scratching sound on the window. Assuming it was a branch, they snuggled up. Scratch. It scared them, but the wind was howling and they felt safe in each other's arms. SCRATCH. This time it was chilling, and they quickly left for home. When the boy went around to open the car door for his girlfriend, hanging from the handle was a bloody hook."

My all time favorite Halloween story starts out, "Little Orphant Annie's come to our house to stay . . ."

The Gobble-uns'll Git You Ef You Don't Watch Out!

and ends with the chilling verse, "'er the gobble-uns'll git you ef you don't watch out!"


I read these stories to my little grandkids around the campfire this summer and it was perfect for the 4-6-year-old crowd. I wish I had I the old Boy Scout handbook with spook stories built right it. It's sad when a memory surfaces and you can't pin-point where you stashed it. Back in the day we had a Disney cartoon movie featuring the story of Icabod Crane, which we loved to watch as a family. I wish I could find a copy of that.

The perfect finale to an evening of scary tales is a ghostly cake with glowing eyes:

Ghost Cake

Bake a cake in an oblong pan.
When cool, dump out of the pan carefully onto a tray.

Now cut off two pieces to create a rounded ghost shape.
The two extra pieces will become arms.

Use white meringue type frosting from a box to glue the arms on the sides of the cake.
Frost the cake.
Use black licorice for the mouth.

Now the spooky part:
Break an egg, dump out the insides, and place each 1/2 eggshell (open side up) for eyes.
Soak two sugar cubes in lemon extract.
Place sugar cubes in egg shells, and light them with a match.
The eyes will glow.

Serve with some oozing body parts:

Bloody Fingers

Put some red food coloring in 2 cups of water.

Pour the water into a rubber kitchen glove and freeze.
Cut the glove off,
and float the frozen, bloody hand in a punch bowl
filled with apple cider.

Now that I'm an Oma, I love Halloween again. No costumes, no trick-or-treating in freezing temps with miserable toddlers, no sugar tantrums. Grandmas can do whatever we want to do! It's a fun stage to be in. I would love a book of Halloween party ideas, ghost stories for pre-teens, and spook alley suggestions that would make their eyes pop.

I want to take off my Halloweeny costume,
and be a Hallowinner!

Homework: Do any or all or be inspired.

~List 10 ideas for a spook alley, or a Halloween party.

~Tell a ghost story you remember from your youth.

~Suggest a favorite book of scary tales. What age is it appropriate for?

*If you do any part of this assignment on your blog, please link it back to TravelinOma and provide proper attribution. Leave a comment here (with a link to your homework if you want to share it) and/or a link to your blog (so we can get to know you.) School Days has open enrollment so join anytime. No make-up work required! If you're new, click here for an orientation.

Travel Studies Seminar: Souvenirs

Salzburg Window Displays

I don't know why we don't wear dirndls. They look innocent and sexy at the same time. The bodice is made with stays that push you in and out in all the right places, and the white petticoats and lacy blouses peak out coyly top and bottom.

Patterned fabrics are mixed like quilt pieces and the color combos can be playful or sophisticated. There's even matching stuff for the guys. I wish I went places where hats with feathers would look appropriate. Do you think I could wear this outfit to pick up my prescriptions at WalMart?

Salzburg window displays are an art form. Lit up at night even though the shops are closed, they make it fulfilling just to browse.

In my travels I've satisfied my lust by window shopping, writing down color combinations, or drawing some of the displays in my journal. It gives me ownership. I've also discovered I can keep anything I want with my camera. I brought these exquisite ensembles home with me from Salzburg last year and they didn't cost me a euro!

One accessory always finds it's way into my suitcase, however. I have a collection of elegant silk scarves from Salzburg, with hand-tied fringe. I wear them year round and love to add a new color or pattern.

Shopping for souvenirs can be frustrating when there's not a lot of money to spend. I have discovered that when I'm searching for particular keepsakes that I know I can buy, I have as much fun as when I'm accumulating a suitcase full of random loot.

We travel light so we collect mementos that are cheap (or free,) unique, and easy to pack. Dee calls it eclectic collecting. Some ideas are:

1. Matchbooks. These are harder to come by now that restaurants are smoke-free, but they look great framed as a collage.
2. Buttons. Antique stores often have big jars full of unusual old-fashioned buttons. It gives me a reason to go into these quirky places.
   
3. Art postcards. Tonight I worked on a card catalog containing my favorite works of art from museum store postcards. I now have over a hundred. These are also fun to search for in antique stores.
4. Cardboard coasters with colorful insignias of the local brew are sometimes sitting right under your glass. Don't spill, and take them home.
   
5. Napkins are much cheaper than tablecloths, but can be just as beautiful with lace or embroidered details. I buy a variety that I can layer on top of a solid colored tablecloth. It's fun to take notes of how they are displayed in the stores.
6. Local crafts. I can't afford to buy each of my 20 grandkids the darling toys and trinkets I see different places, so I buy something for my Oma Kits. In Salzburg I bought ten tiny wood carvings with magnets on the back. They are each about two inches long, and are made like little marionettes, with dangling arms and legs.
   
7. Coins, stamps, or cool business cards with interesting logos or foreign writing.
   
8. Menus. Some restaurants will give you one if you ask, especially if you offer to pay.
   
9. Toiletries in a different language seem exotic. Toothpaste or even tiny kleenex packages make me smile after I'm home.
10. Books. This is where we splurge. We always ask if the bookstore will send our purchases home. If that isn't possible we take them to the post office where we buy boxes and tape and ship them ourselves. A few days after we get home, our treasures arrive: a package containing colorful maps or antique book plates from a tiny, hidden shop down a winding path where we spent a cozy hour one rainy afternoon.

Ideas, memories and inspiration are some of the dearest keepsakes from our travels.

Hansi

Hansi wasn't an actual souvenir, but the idea for him was. We saw tree trunks carved into faces on a trip to Austria, and when we got home, we found an authentic Bavarian wood-carver, who made us one. Our daughter Amy was afraid of him when she was a little girl, and ran past him with her eyes covered. Our other daughter Heidi loved him so much that he now sits on her hearth.

Two of my aunts went to Europe together in 1955, and brought me home a collection of little silver spoons from each of the places they went. I still remember the one from Holland—it had a little windmill that really moved. From that little present when I was six, my interest was kindled and I began dreaming of the day I could visit "faraway places with strange sounding names." As the song says, they were "calling, calling me."

What do you do with all the little stuff that you collect on a vacation? My sister artistically framed her memories of a trip to England. On a map, she used string (I think) and map pins to mark their route, and then attached ticket stubs, menus, photos, etc. to create a collage. I'm sure she bought a few pricey momentos, but her arrangement of the free bits and pieces is striking.

Although I spend money every chance I get, I can have fun traveling without it. I've realized that the real souvenir isn't a purchase. The memory of dodging horses in a rainstorm, remembering a long forgotten vocabulary, noticing that even the old ladies in Austrian capes and alpine hats are talking on cell phones as they stroll the 12th century streets—those are the things I want to take home. Genuine souvenirs aren't in the shops. They are free for the taking anywhere you make a memory.

Among my souvenirs.

Homework: Do any or all or be inspired.

~ What do you collect on trips? How do you display your collections?

~ Do you have a unique souvenir in your home? Tell it's story: where did it come from, how did you get it, who should inherit it?

~Who inspired your desire to travel? Write them a thank you note.


*If you do any part of this assignment on your blog, please link it back to TravelinOma and provide proper attribution. Leave a comment here (with a link to your homework if you want to share it) and/or a link to your blog (so we can get to know you.) School Days has open enrollment so join anytime. No make-up work required! If you're new, click here for an orientation.

Write Away Seminar: Happy Trails

Bagpipers in Trailing of the Sheep Parade

It seems like everyone else has such an exciting life.
They're from other places, and do different things.
They march to a different beat.

Polish Dancers, Trailing of the Sheep

They get to wear cool outfits.
I'd dance through life, too, if I had a cool outfit.

Basque Shepherds, Trailing of the Sheep

These guys are Basque.
They must live in some faraway, fairytale place,
like . . .
Idaho??

Herding the Sheep, Ketchum, Idaho

They're shepherds!

Basque Sheep-Shearers

This cute girl shears sheep for a living.

Shearing a sheep

She's been at it since she was a little girl,
and while she's pretty fast,
her husband is faster.
He can shear up to 200 sheep a day!

Sheepcamp

In the summer, they live in a sheepcamp like this.


It's got modern appliances,


And all the comforts of home.


Dee and I went to visit!

Dee's writing a history of sheep-ranching in Utah. So, suddenly we're into sheep. This weekend was the annual Trailing of the Sheep Festival in Ketchum, Idaho (just outside Sun Valley) and we went on a research trip. A few of the activities were: a gallery walk featuring lamb appetizers, sheep dog contests, a hike to see shepherd art carved into trees, Polish dancers, Basque musicians, demonstrations of carding and spinning wool. The grand finale was a parade, with a herd of 1500 sheep running down Main Street on the way from their summer pasture to their winter home.

Fingers flying, yarn balls rolling, a family of knitters were part of the story-telling event. Nine of them (including a 7-year-old boy) sat on stage working their needles and telling stories of folks from New Zealand, Scotland, France, Spain, Peru, Chili and Poland who brought their knowledge of sheep ranching to the United States a hundred years ago. The tradition has stayed alive, and large families still live this nomadic life—right now—in Idaho, Nevada, Wyoming and other regular places. Who knew?

Dee and Marty Collecting Info

Can you imagine how boring and lonely and unexciting it must be to herd sheep? But we were absolutely fascinated because it's so different. It just shows that everybody has a story to tell.

Even you. But here you are, sitting at your desk, paper in front of you, pencils sharp, pens poised for action wondering: What can I write about? What is there to say? You feel as blank as the page itself.

Deep down you know you have a lot to say. Just think about your last telephone call. Can you hear how you jabbered away to one of your best friends? You had plenty of ideas then. Think about the last time you griped to someone about your life. You were loaded with complaints, weren't you? Or consider your advice to your little sister, who has an idiot for a boyfriend, or your brother who just quit his job. And your mom. You honed your talent for debate right in her kitchen. Yes, you have a lot of wisdom.

You have within you a gold mine of source material to draw on for writing. Moreover, you are unique. No one else has lived your life. No one else knows quite what you know or sees through your particular eye. So, what you have to say is special and will be alive and interesting. If you can reveal what you know, value, think about, worry about, fear, or look forward to, you are bound to find an audience.

Writing is risky: you show your reader who you are, but you must write from yourself and with your own authentic voice. Don't just follow the crowd. Be the black sheep. Be ewe.

2009 Trailing of the Sheep Parade

Homework: Do any or all or be inspired.

~Write a love letter to a modern appliance you could not live without. Idea: "Dear Washer: Before you came to live with me, my life stunk . . . "

~Could you live absolutely alone, for weeks at a time? Write a paragraph about what you would do if you had nothing to do. Prompt: "All I have here is time. I've decided that I will . . . "

~If you could plan a 3-day festival to depict your lifestyle, what ten activities would you choose? Go back and explain why each one is meaningful. Idea: Hike up Mount Olympus, German cooking class, political debate, etc."

Write away!

*If you do any part of this assignment on your blog, please link it back to TravelinOma and provide proper attribution. Leave a comment here (with a link to your homework if you want to share it) and/or a link to your blog (so we can get to know you.) School Days has open enrollment so join anytime. No make-up work required! If you're new, click here for an orientation.