Updating your home (continued)

5) Paint over oak baseboards, trim, cabinets, etc.

Oak woodwork is so, so outdated, unless it is original quarter sawn oak from the 1800s or early 1900s. Oak has a tendency to make a house feel very dark and dingy. To brighten up the house or simply to update it, consider painting over the oak. This can be very, very time consuming and messy, and people like my grandfather would squawk "This is heresy," but the outcome will be pleasing now, in the short term, and more likely to stay in style, in the long run.

In case you are wondering what "quarter sawn" oak is, allow me please to digress for a minute to explain it. "Tiger oak" is what my grandfather always called this wood. Mom said it must be because the grain, in places, resembles the beautiful parallel stripes of a tiger. I googled it, and Mom was right. Quarter-sawing means cutting a log the long way, in four pieces, so that the tree rings will produce a vertical pattern with a  uniform grain. Cabinet makers have prized this method of cutting oak because it produces boards with a "wonderful medulliary-ray figuring," http://barnyardgazette.blogspot.com/2007/09/what-is-quarter-sawn-oak.html, or in other words, wood that resembles tiger fur. The face of a quarter-sawn oak board will not have the big, ugly, swirling grain of plain-sawn oak. Ever notice faces staring at you from ugly oak doors? I see weird images in the grain of cheap oak. The grain of quarter-sawn oak, however, is a series of lines that are close together and straight. Sometimes the grain is wavy and interlocked, but it is never the hideous, wavy, far-apart lines that drive a person like me crazy. The reason people stopped producing this beautiful wood trim for homes is that you will not get as many boards from the log, and the boards will be narrower than you would get with plain sawing, and that means the cost of the wood goes up. Cheap, cheap, cheap is the look of homes built after the second world war. The beautiful homesof the 1920s ended with the Great Depression in the 1930s and World War II in the 1940s. People no longer had money for a big house, much less a house with expensive wood trim.


http://t1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcS4HVpu8kFLAerkDh5MEhtmjlG7LQRtslMVX2BAvtMjuAdiXPSCRCOW-NQ6


http://www.blocktops.com/uploads/craftart/imageflow/Red.Oak.Open%20Grain.Plank.jpg

I would bet you do not need me to label the photos. You are sure to notice the color is better, too, with quarter-sawn oak, because people used a darker stain years ago, while oak today is all too often a lighter honey color.

http://www.amishhandcraftedheirlooms.com/images/quarter-sawn.jpg

Another way to look at this is to consider that quartering a log to reveal the best grain is the opposite of quartering an apple. If you quarter an apple, you get this:

http://www.ceskapozice.cz/sites/default/files/imagecache/full_size_content_image/apple_stars_c_blytheraw.com_.jpg

But if you regular-saw (cut in half the other way) you reveal the inner star of the apple:

There is no way to turn your ugly oak doors and trim into tiger oak, but you can paint the outdated wood. To start the big job of giving new life to old, boring wood trim, you will have to grab a pry bar and remove the baseboards and trim. Roll up your sleeves, consider investing in a mask, and begin the dusty job of sanding the wood. There is no just getting out of this step, because in order for the paint to stick, the wood has to be roughed up. If you leave behind any varnish or stain, the paint will not adhere. Sand paper can be purchased at any of the following stores: Lowes, Home Depot, Menard's, even WalMart or Target, the nearest hardware store, and many more. It is also relatively cheap. When doing baseboards, my dad said he would use rough sand paper. I would take that to mean you should use the roughest sand paper you can buy. This will make the job go much more quickly and efficiently. You might think an electric sander would be the quickest way to go. However, the boards are often too narrow for anything but old-fashioned hand work. If you have the money, and the oak is just that flimsy, cheap-looking 1980s junk, you might consider throwing it out and buying new woodwork. Even if you buy cheap pine that is already coated with white primer, it will look more expensive than grainy oak.

Next, after you have finished sanding, prime the baseboards and trim. Primer looks like a can of white paint, and it is just as messy. After you have finished priming, paint with an off-white/creamy white. Go with an eggshell or semi-gloss finish to make cleaning easier, as a matte finish will be much harder to keep clean. When choosing a paint, purchase one that is meant for painting wood paneling, baseboards, doors, trim, etc. Again, this can be found at just about any home improvement store. You can use either a paint brush or a can of spray paint (spray paint usually works better because you will not see any brush strokes).

Once you have finished painting, it is time to put the baseboards and trim back on the windows or where the floor meets the wall. Then you are done and can enjoy the fresh new look.

Here is an example where oak woodwork is acceptable because it is original to the house and is quarter sawn (we will not mention the hideous carpet):


Example of extremely ugly, unacceptable, outdated oak woodwork (be sure to note the stupid parquet floor, another el-cheapo shortcut):



Now it is your turn to decide...Which do you think looks better? Left (Before) or Right (After)? There is no question in my mind that "After" is elegant and will not go out of style.




6) Replace outdated hardware.

Brass door knobs are a thing of the past. They are ugly and outdated, but they are still seen everywhere. I do not need to post a picture because if you think about it, your own home is probably full of brass door knobs. If you have door knobs like the one show below, I want to see your house.

 To give your doors an update, consider replacing them with oil-rubbed bronze or pewter. If you want to replace door knobs in an old house with character, buy antique door knobs or replicas. House of Antique Hardware or Home Depot carry good replicas. Door knobs with back plates add lots of character, but most door knobs today do not come with back plates, so the only option is to buy antiques or replicas, but both can be very pricey. Most replicas start at $100 per door knob! If you are lucky, you can find some authentic ones for slightly less, but good luck.

Here is an example of a fantastic replica, but it is very pricey:



7) Replace outdated light fixtures.

Outdated ceiling fans or light fixtures (such as the lights above bathroom vanities) can really date a home. For an updated look, replace them with something more modern.

Here is an example of an outdated light fixture:



It is now almost midnight, and I must submit this blog. Next week, I promise to continue.

Admit it. You just cannot wait to see what a better light fixture would look like!

See you next week!!
   

My Birthday

Despite what I said about birthdays in my last post, and the fact that I would have been perfectly content to stay home watching The Vampire Diaries and eating Kraft Mac and Cheese, my brother managed to make my seventeenth birthday a pleasant surprise. Not with gifts, but with something better.

Mom had already baked a second birthday cake for me, not knowing we would be in Iowa City with Miles to eat it. The first cake she baked was on the wrong day, when Claire sneaked home to surprise me almost a week early, knowing she'd be unable to get away from classes at Iowa State on the right day. We went out to dinner that night and had a lot of fun. When December 6 came around, my birthday seemed to have come and gone already. I was on the sofa thinking about Mac and Cheese when Miles called me to say Happy Birthday--and to invite us to a live jazz concert at the Englert in Iowa City. Mom said, "It's too late. It's a school night!" I told her I had already promised Miles that I would come even if it meant being out past midnight on a school night, even though I still had to shower, even though I still hadn't finished my homework. Dad backed me up in this last minute decision to go see Miles's friends playing their original compositions. It was totally spur-of-the-moment. Miles had called, and within fifteen minutes, we were on the road, rushing to beat the clock and get there before the concert began. Mom said, "I forgot my cell phone." Dad said, "Too bad," even though we had only just backed out of the garage. Then, "The gas tank is empty," he said. "We have to stop for gas." He put in a few gallons on the way, late as we were. He didn't lecture me about driving around with an almost-empty tank. Birthdays have their perks.

We got lucky. How often does anyone find a parking spot in Iowa City at the Ped Mall, much less a spot within sight of our destination, the Englert? I was excited to see the marquee, the wet bricks of the streets, people on sidewalks and a feeling in the air of things happening. I especially looked forward to seeing my brother, on the actual day of my birthday, rather than some random day on the calendar that Mom might say was close enough to count--not that I minded seeing Claire a week early (better early than never!), and not that I had really expected to celebrate my birthday on a school night, and with live music, at that.

I walked on air all the way to the theater, eager to see my brother. Funny, we were on time in spite of living forty miles away and stopping for gas, but Miles was not. Of course. Typical, unorganized Miles. Dad texted him. No reply. We kept searching for him as we were taking our seats, just before the show was about to start, but he still was nowhere to be seen. Go figure.

The first song began with a jazz flute solo. I play flute, and Miles always urges me to try "Yozz Flute" (a line from some movie), so I especially enjoyed hearing this solo. Miles's classmate from high school, Michael Jarvey, looked very musician-like at the keyboard, tall, slender, long-haired and brooding. The other guys could have passed for Rockwell engineers, but they played great jazz, and wrote it themselves. After seeing the band play two songs, my dad FINALLY got a text message from my brother. Where was he? Of all the nights for Mom to leave her cell phone behind--Miles had texted her, of course, telling us to hurry to a cafe called Teaspoons instead. He playing a sudden gig there with a well-known trumpeter from Juilliard. Later, we learned he was just walking by the place on his way to the Englert when he looked through the window and saw Gabe Medd, the famed trumpet player. Miles had played a gig with him once before when Gabe was in town. Of course he had to rush in, and Gabe just invited him to jump in and do improv on the upright bass, and of course Miles wouldn't say no, even if was on his way to meet his sister on her birthday.

We didn't know all that yet. We only knew we had to suffer the embarrassment of walking out on the Englert concert the moment one song ended and before the next one began. I felt so rude for walking out because they were such fantastic musicians and they were my brother's friends, but we had to head over to the cafe where my brother was playing.

When we got there the place was packed with so many people there was nowhere to sit, let alone stand. But I was happy to see my brother and hear him play. I didn't recognize any of the songs. After the last song of the night, Gabe Medd lowered his trumpet and said "Happy Birthday to Mariel, the sister of our fine upright bass player." What? I blinked, looked at Miles, who smiled, and at Gabe, who had just played Happy Birthday on his jazz trumpet, and I did not even realize that was what they were playing until after they were done? My sneaky brother got a brilliant trumpet player to dedicate "Happy Birthday" to me, and because it sounded so jazzy and different from the actual song, I missed it! That wasn't what upset me about this night, though.

What really upset me was that even though so many people had crowded into this cozy little cafe to watch these extremely talented Juilliard musicians on a cold winter's night, I was the only one to put money in the tip jar. How sad and disappointing.

After watching Miles play, we went to eat dinner at the Sheraton hotel where my brother works as a bell hop. Although it was after nine o'clock at night, I still ordered a huge cheeseburger with fries and a Shirley Temple. The food was delicious. Miles splurged and ordered a $23 capon, even though it was still expensive his 25-percent employee discount. I had a great time celebrating my birthday with my family. After finishing our meals, we went to my brother's apartment to celebrate with the second cake that my mom had made earlier that day. Miles' roommates were also there to sing Happy Birthday and eat cake with us.

When we left Iowa City, it was really late. I still had to shower and get ready for bed. By the time I actually got done with all these things and jumped into bed, my seventeenth birthday was officially over. It was probably after 2 a.m. on a school night. But that did not matter. I had a great time. I had told Miles I would go see him even if I didn't get to bed until 2 a.m. -- and that is exactly what happened. But if being able to spend time with my brother meant losing a few hours of sleep, who cared. It was worth it. Even if I never did finish my homework that night. (Shh, don't tell my mom.)

Next time he gets a famous musician to play Happy Birthday for me, though, I hope I recognize the tune.

Birthdays

Today is my seventeenth birthday. Does it feel any different to me than any other day? No, not really. My mom has always felt the same way. While Dad and my brother Miles seemed to accept that about her, my sister Claire and I kept trying to get Mom excited about her birthday and buy at least a few gifts. She would always reply, “Trust me. I don’t want anything.” We did. The next year, she'd say, “Don’t you dare even THINK of buying me gifts.” I would ask her if she was excited and she would reply, “No. I don't let the calendar dictate to me what I should do." She never wants to go out on Mother's Day or Valentine's Day, the busiest days of the year at restaurants. Nothing wrong with going a different day, she says, and that's only if she caves into the pressure of celebrating some occasion because the calendar says so. Worse, she hates anything that Hallmark is promoting. No one is to buy her cards or trinkets if it is expected due to some date on a calendar. For years I kept trying to show her that cards and gifts are fun, and I would get annoyed by her attitude, but on my seventeenth birthday, I realized I feel the same way.

Who decided to make birthdays become such a big deal? I realize I would not be alive today if not for the miracle of entering this world on December 6, but I don’t understand why we have come to expect so many gifts or spend so much money on expensive birthday parties. Birthdays are a time to celebrate being alive and spend time with our families, not be little divas complaining about not getting enough presents or not having everything go exactly our way. So many people spend SO much money on cutesy little hallmark cards, expensive gift wrapping, and elaborate cakes from the store, which taste horrible, by the way- they make look pretty, but homemade cakes are SUPERIOR. Grade school kids came to expect hiring a clown, then renting a building or time at a skating rink or the Play Station. Parents spend time and money buying party favors as gifts for the guests, silly hats, noise makers, and themed cups, plates and napkins--the list goes on and on. Adults are no better. Women get mad at husbands for not buying roses and taking them out for expensive dinners. 

Why can’t we just enjoy the fact that we are alive and have friends and family to celebrate with? Why does everything have to be so commercialized? Why do we have to spend as much money as possible and get every expensive item we want in order to be happy? If you ever discover the answer, please let me know. Otherwise, wish me a happy birthday and be done with it.

(Word Count: 482)

Ways to update/add value to your home

1. Paint the walls

This is an easy and inexpensive way to completely change the look of a room. If you are feeling rather bold, don’t be afraid to use color! Although neutral colors are better for resale, if you are not moving anytime soon, go bold. If you are planning on selling in the near future, go with a neutral color palette, such as shades of white, gray, or beige. (By the way, gray is the new beige- you see it everywhere now.) There are many great brands of paint, some more expensive than others, but all will get the job done. I personally always paint with Valspar from Lowes. It gives great coverage with only one coat, especially if you purchase the paint-and-primer-in-one. They also have a great collection of historic colors if you are going for a timeless, older, or vintage look. Some other great brands include Benjamin Moore (found at Ace Hardware), Behr (found exclusively at home depot), or Sherwin Williams (its own separate store). I personally have never painted a room with the Martha Stewart collection of paints, but there is a handy feature in her collection where she has already labeled different colors that work well together with stars, moons, etc. so you can easily find colors that work well together. As I mentioned, simply painting the walls can completely change the look and feel of a room. Many buyers go to open houses and see bright red walls and are instantly turned-off. This makes the house much more difficult to sell. But with a simple paint job, buyers will be able to see the potential of the house and can visualize themselves living in it and personalizing the home to make it their own.




2.  Invest in hardwood floors

Every buyer today seems to want flowing hardwoods throughout the house, but they can be pricey  Carpets attract dirt, look dingy, and do not last long. They also are bad for people with allergies because of all the dirt and dust particles they collect. But not all hardwood floors are expensive. If you have icky carpets in your home, it’s time to throw them out or sell them on Craig’s List for landlords to use if they are not in too bad of condition (You would be surprised how quickly they will sell). My dad and I recently tore up our old sea foam-green rug in the living room and put it up for sale on Craig’s List for about seventy five dollars. Within only a day or so we had multiple offers and people interested in the rug. We ended up selling it to a landlord for fifty dollars, but continued to receive emails from people interested in it for weeks and weeks after it had already been sold. We replaced the rug with hardwood floors from Lumber Liquidators. We went with a four-inch wide, prefinished natural maple. Even though it is not the hardest wood you can by, we installed it anyway for its beauty since it won’t be getting much traffic in the living room anyway. Lumber Liquidators is a terrific source for inexpensive yet high quality hardwood floors. There are many selections of woods to choose from. If you look on the clearance rack, you can get a high quality wood floor for fewer than two dollars per square foot! Now what’s pricy about that? My best advice for sellers is to invest in hardwood floors. They add so much warmth and richness to a home and make the space feel so much larger. Believe me, you can find great deals out there if you just look. And if you’re looking to save even more money, install the floors yourself. It is actually a lot easier than you might think. My dad has never hired anything done on our house. He does all the projects himself, which saves us a LOT of money and we also don’t have to rely on workers to get the job done well and on time. We can work by our own schedule and plan things out carefully to ensure the outcome is exactly the way we want it. When choosing your floor, go for something wider than three inches. Narrower floors are outdated unless they are less than 2 1/4 inches wide.

 

 3. Update the kitchen 

All buyers today want stainless steel appliances. I am not exactly sure why; I personally think they are hard to keep clean, but maybe that's just me. It will be worth the investment. It is actually a fact that remodeling kitchens and bathrooms adds the most resale value to a home. Another great way to update your kitchen without spending a lot of money is to paint the cabinets. White kitchens are very in-style right now, but they are also a timeless look that will never go out of style. White cabinets also brighten up a room. Natural stone counter tops are also very popular. White carrera marble is very popular right now. It is beautiful and looks great with white cabinets, but granite is usually a better option because it can withstand heat much better than marble. Marble is also very pricey. But wood counter tops also look very nice if you cannot afford a natural stone and tend not to go out of style. As long as you seal the wood with a mineral oil, you should not have any problems with having a wood counter top. If you want to add style to your kitchen, install a backsplash. They are usually very affordable and come in a wide variety of materials and colors. Tile backsplashes are the most common because they are durable, easy to wipe clean, and can be easily customized. Tiles come in all shapes, sizes, and colors and can be configured into a one-of-a-kind backsplashes. 





4. Update the bathroom

-As I mentioned earlier, kitchen and bathroom renovations add the most value to a home. If you have outdated fixtures or vinyl floors, it's time for an update. Vinyl is cheap and extremely difficult to keep clean. Porcelain tiles are very durable and usually inexpensive. In fact, many porcelain tiles are made to look like natural stones such as travertine and they are actually pretty convincing. If you want a travertine floor in your bathroom but think you cannot afford it, you'd be surprised what great deals are out there. At the Home Depot, you can get travertine for under $2 a square foot! Natural stones are always a beautiful option and they look very luxurious and expensive. When installing new fixtures, stay away from brass! Brass is very outdated. Instead, go for oil-rubbed bronze, pewter, or chrome. You can also update your bathroom by replacing the knobs on the cabinet doors. For extra storage, add a medicine cabinet above the toilet, such as allen + roth 24-3/4" wood surface mount medicine cabinet from Lowe's. To store extra toilet paper, try Interdesign 4-Roll Reserve from Target.

       

All State Auditions Mystify Me Again

Over the weekend, Kennedy High School choir students left for Oelwein on a yellow school bus to audition for the Iowa All-State Festival after months and months of hard work and preparation. The day had finally come! We spent most of it sitting in a high school gymnasium for hours and hours on the hard benches of bleachers. From experience I knew what to expect and I brought a good book to read, but I quickly grew bored with it and wished I had brought my backpack with all my homework to do, even if  I had already brought one heavy bag and did not need an 85-pound pack full of books to shlep around and injure my back, no doubt right before my audition would come up.

The clock ticked. Our group of four finally stood before the judges and sang excerpts from this year's All State music. A stupid, lame version of "Skip to My Lou" and the annual "O Beautiful, for Spacious Skies" broke free of our tense vocal cords. How were we doing? To me, we sounded pretty good. My voice was tired from getting up at 4 a.m., meeting for breakfast at Perkins at 5 a.m., and singing more than I probably should have all week long. But I made it in last year, and this year should be even easier.

Tick, tick, tick.

Different people were recalled. That is the worst feeling, as I found out freshman year. If you were tired or tense before, you'll be ten times worse when you go back to those judges, who are not sure about you, or they wouldn't have asked to hear you again, all alone this time. Sight-read and sing, SOLO, for people who just were not convinced the first time around that you should be in.

I did not get recalled. That could mean two things: I was out. I was in. No second chances now.

Tick, tick....

Two members of our quartet found their names on the list on the cafeteria wall. They made it!

Tick, tick...

My name did not show up.

Five other girls from Kennedy who made it last year also did not make it this year, either. Mr. Armstrong told us we all sounded great, and there was no explaining or understanding why this year we were not chosen.

Well, the time we spent preparing was not a total waste. The process is an experience in and of itself. Meeting every week for two months with three other people, singing together, working on timing and blending our voices, is never a total waste of time.

I really didn't want to miss another day or more of school anyway, after two weddings in one month -- five days to Connecticut and back on Labor Day weekend; four days for the Nebraska wedding, the first weekend of October -- and  five sick days in between weddings.

And really: Skip to My Lou?

Maybe next year the music will be worth singing, and I will get in once more. If not, I don't really care.

Tomorrow night I have to go to Iowa City to audition for a different honor choir. Like the annual All State concert every November, this concert is every February, near Valentine's Day, and it is conducted by ISU's Dr. James Rodde. Last year I sang at both All State in November and Honor Choir in February. This year I hope I will at least get to do the concert in February.

I auditioned for last year's concert on very short notice during the school day at Xavier. The piano accompanist said I would be up soon, and what song was I singing? I had no idea! Thinking fast, I named a Mozart song I had been listening to on You-Tube. The pianist said "Phew! That one is easy to play and I already know it." We walked in to the audition. Together for the first time, she played, I sang.--and the funny thing is, I made it in, with no preparation or practice or time to worry about how I would do.

This year I am at Kennedy, not Xavier, and Dr. Rodde does not come to Kennedy for us to audition. Only one or two Kennedy students a year even try out for it. I am not sure why that is, but my mom got an appointment for tomorrow night's audition at City High. My piano accompanist will be Younjung, a music major from Kore and a friend of my brother Miles. I have never met her before. The audition is at 9:15 p.m. That is very late in the day for a singer, but one good thing is that I won't have to get up at 4 a.m., ride a bus, sit in a gym all day and wait, wait, wait for my turn to audition and wait, wait, wait all day for the results.

I might wait up to a week for the results! The teacher will announce Dr. Rodde's decisions.

I am not nervous.

Really! I'm not the least bit nervous!!!

Wish me luck.

Forever 21 Boycott

In Spanish IV, both yesterday and today, we watched a video about immigrants working in the garment factories of Los Angeles, California. The workers complained that they were being treated unfairly and the working conditions were inhumane. They were making clothing for the company, Forever 21, working twelve hours a day with very little pay, if any at all. One woman made a thirteen dollar shirt but only got paid nineteen cents in return. Many workers were not even making  minimum wage and did not get paid for working overtime. These immigrants thought that by coming to the United States, they would live a better life and provide a better future for their children. They ask for nothing more than to care for their families, but they cannot even accomplish this.

Finally, the workers decided to take a stand. They went to a community center where they were reminded that they had rights and did not have to put up with such injustice. The garment factory workers went on strike and formed protests, boycotting Forever 21 for months and months to no avail. Still, after more than a year had passed, nothing had been accomplished. People had given up hope. They were tired of shouting through mega phones and losing their voices, hearing rude comments from other people on the streets, and being ignored. Letters were written to the headquarters of Forever 21 and its president, but the only response was that Forever 21 had no proof that these people were working for their company. The workers even went to the president of the company's home to protest but the man ignored them and drove off. Even when the case was brought court, the trial was dismissed.

After over a year of working to end the mistreatment through protests, boycotts, and trials, an agreement was finally reached. The workers went back to their jobs in the garment factories, but this time with fair working conditions and pay. The work day was shortened to eight hours instead of twelve and they actually were paid for overtime. One woman finally was able to care for her children, knowing now that all her efforts were not made in vain.

I personally had mixed feelings about this video. It was rather depressing to watch and a lot of the things in it angered me. At the same time it bothered me a little at the end of the video when one woman said she now going to apply for American citizenship, implying she was an illegal immigrant. I am fine with legal immigration, but I am not fine with illegal immigration. I can see why people come here illegally when they are in danger and need to provide for their families, but I do not think it is fair that they should be able to come here without waiting in line just like everyone else who wants to become an American citizen. Like I mentioned, I have mixed feelings. By no means am I saying they deserved to be treated the way they were. Absolutely not! The way they were treated was utterly despicable. All I am saying is I do not approve of illegal immigration in most cases.

Bad Church Music

This Sunday, my family went to church at Immaculate Conception at 5:30 p.m. My sister had come home from Iowa State University and Dad seemed pretty happy to have us all together for Mass. He loves Fr. Podhajsky, too, and the church itself is beautiful, with stained glass windows, vaulted ceilings and all the classical architectural details of an old church. The pews are quarter-sawn oak, stained dark, with hand carved scroll work. The fact that I am so cognizant of the wood the pews are made out of might suggest to you that I am not sufficiently getting into the Mass. There is a reason for that. Aside from my love of architecture (I am currently in a Goth phase, and by that I do not mean Goth or Emo but Gothic as in the style of castles). My appreciation for a beautiful building is not the reason I was seemingly not paying attention to the reason for being in church. If I seem to be taking forever to get to the point, there's a reason for that, too. Part of Mass is the music. Unpaid volunteers stand up there in front of hundreds of people and sing. It takes courage to do that, and a certain generosity. It also takes something I shudder to say in public. For a woman my mother's age to cantor, or lead the congregation in singing all the Mass parts, it takes a certain delusion that she is capable or qualified to do so. Maybe for elderly church goers who are hard of hearing, the music is uplifting. For people like me dad, born with nearly perfect pitch, trained for years in classical piano, listening to music like this is more painful than hearing my mother's polka so-called-music on you-tube. And yet here we were, all together as a family, except for Miles who left around noon to go to work; my sister, who left home again in August to attend college, was here on a Sunday night, and we were supposed to be celebrating Mass and praising God for all that is good, and for that matter, as Catholics, we must thank God for everything, even if it seems bad. So, by that logic, or that theology, I should have been smiling and singing joyously with great gratitude for the bad music that God had given us this Sunday night. Hallelujah! Or as the Pentecostals might say, Have Glory! It's a beautiful sunny afternoon in October. My annual fear of Oktoberfest had come and gone. My sister was home. The music--the 10-minute long responsorial song, with its 17-second-long Amen, was a wonder to behold but not to hear. Oops! I didn't mean to sound snide. God bless that dear woman who has the courage, the damaged ears, and the generosity to stand before all these people and help us celebrate God's love for humanity. Let me recount our blessings. My hair is so long and so thick, I might be able to wear ear plugs to church and get away with it. Oops again! Let's see. This organist and this cantor may be helping us to shorten our time in Purgatory by getting some of our suffering out of the way here and now, on this earth.

Al right, I give up. But I was not the only "bad Catholic" thinking this way. Mom--not I--says the singer couldn't carry a tune in a bucket. All of us, Mom, Dad, Claire and I agree that the organist never plays in the right key. It is always so much lower than it should be, no one can even sing along because it is too low for them. Both the singer and the organist cannot count, in terms of rhythm and reading music. However, as I said before, they are unpaid volunteers. We are not members of this parish, and I do cantor sometimes at our own church with my dad playing piano, and I absolutely HATE singing in front of all those people.

So, I feel a little bit evil, complaining about the Sunday night music at Immaculate Conception. On the bright side, we all must have looked happy and sincere to join everyone in saying "Thanks be to God!" when the priest said "Mass has ended. Go in peace to love and serve the Lord."

Rainy Days and Sundays

Something about rainy days has always enticed me out of the house and into the elements. Even when I was a little, I would rush out to my tricycle and enjoy the drip, drop, drip of little raindrops. Maybe it was because my older sister and brother learned a song at school and taught it to me, and we'd sing it together in the car on long rides. "Drip drop drip little April showers, we're getting wet, and we don't care at all." The last person still singing ended with the final words, "Drip, drip, drip." Then again, I think I loved rain even before that.

Now that I think of it, there was another song I heard before I was even born. Someone gave us a lullaby cassette tape as a baby gift for Miles, the first of us three kids. The song began, "I love the sound of the music they make when little raindrops are tapping away, like a piano on my window pain, playing a lullaby." Maybe rain always sounded like music to me, gentle and soothing, because of that song. Even when I was twelve, I'd keep that tape in my room and listen to it. The words must have made an impression on my sister Claire, too. All three of us had been playing Suzuki violin, but one day Claire saw a cello at the Symphony School. She sat down with it and played Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star, the song all Suzuki students learn first. Mom says hearing the word "cello" on that lullaby tape must have influenced Claire. It's in the same song I just mentioned: "When the wind blows on my window, I hear cellos playing a lullaby." I have no idea whatever became of our cassette tape, but I should buy the CD so I can listen again to little raindrops and wind blowing like cellos. http://www.cduniverse.com/search/xx/music/pid/3511965/a/Child's+Gift+of+Lullabyes.htm

Another reason I might love rain is that my dad is so crazy about thunderstorms. I remember the dollhouse in the corner of the bedroom Claire and I shared in our last house in Bowman Woods. We had the best view of storms from the window right by the dollhouse, and Dad would squat down between us, smiling and gazing at wall clouds advancing like an army toward us. The wind would pick up, the trees would sway, lightning would fork the sky, and thunder boomed. The rain came fast and hard, but it never scared me. It was just exciting and something to love about our weather.

I never understand people complaining about dreary, rainy days. I love the shine of rainwater on sidewalks, the sound of tires on wet streets, the glow of lights from store windows and tall street lanterns. I think of it as atmospheric, not dreary. To be inside looking out is so warm and cozy, whether it's in a coffee shop sipping a hot drink, or sitting in a favorite chair with steamy chamomile tea.

Even though Dad is a light sleeper and storms keep him awake, I find the noise of a storm peaceful and a great way to fall asleep. The subtle rumble of thunder in the distance, the little pitter patter of drops at my window, is calming.

Another great night-time sound is a train whistle blowing in the distance, but that was only when we spent a weekend in Nebraska with Dad's parents. Grandma and Grandpa Kean have been dead for several years now, but I the mournful whistle of a train does not bring back the sadness of their loss. It brings back the happy sound of waking in the night in a bed at Grandma and Grandpa's house in a small Nebraska town. Rarely, I do hear the sound outside my own bedroom window, but it's fainter and farther away. And that just adds to the effect. Night time. Something rumbling and moving in the distance.

What a great feeling it is to wake up on a dark, rainy morning and realize it is not Monday. Today, Sunday, was just such a morning. I lay in my bed, snug and warm, with my cat Bobi, curled up in a ball right next to me, purring softly. After breakfast, our old dog Bailey jumped up when she saw me come outside in the rain. She must have remembered how I used to take her walking in the rain, but Mom always tells me, "She's too old now," and can't even make it up the driveway now. But I pulled down the leash from the wall, and Bailey wagged her tail and trotted up the driveway with me. I hesitated at the top, but she did not. I had to pull back on the leash, but then I decided to let her keep going. Maybe I would have to carry her home—or maybe she would rise to the occasion and walk like the old days. To my pleasant surprise, she did just that. She even got ahead of me. To make sure I didn't wear her out, I turned her around after just a few houses, but she walked all the way back home. She even seemed ready to go on another walk. So we did, this time with Dad. Bailey went even farther this time, and did just fine. She sniffed everything and left her "scented graffiti," as Mom calls it, all over the place. Just like old times, Bailey got to sniff donkeys, sheep, neighbor dogs, and who knows what else.

I'm the one who fell asleep on the sofa after our walk. When I woke up, the sun was shining. A new day? No. I was thrilled to realize it was Sunday. I was not so thrilled to realize I still had lots of homework to do before the day was done. I would have happily traded all that afternoon sunshine for a rainy Sunday morning. (985)

My brother made the wedding complete

It looked hopeless, but Miles made it after all. His boss had scheduled him to work Saturday night even though Miles has asked for the whole weekend off. He had missed the wedding of our Connecticut cousin, but Dave and his new bride Staci would be in Nebraska for the next wedding only a month later. How could we go without him? Both his sisters would be bridesmaids.

He must have said the right words. His boss just told him, "Go ahead. Go. Just assume I'll find someone else. Next time, give me three weeks' advance when you need a whole weekend off."

We were late for the rehearsal, by ten minutes, but we made it!

My dress got fixed at the last minute, Miles got here at the last minute, and the wedding itself went smoothly. I loved seeing all the Kean cousins again. We never fight, argue or complain. I wish my mom's side of the family would get along like that, but some people are always looking for trouble and never able to see just the good and overlook the bad.

My mom keeps grumbling that weddings are silly, with all those bridesmaid dresses and rented tuxes, and she seriously seems to think we all ought to just elope. She may not have gotten to enjoy her One Special Day because no one in her family knows how to let one person have that much attention all to herself, and her wedding day was more stressful than fun for her. The good news was, only sixty-people showed up for her wedding, so she didn't have a big audience for all the things that went wrong. The bad news was, nobody showed up for her wedding because May 22 is a stupid time of year. Farmers are in the field and students are busy with finals. However, for all her complaints about her wedding day, the marriage itself has been the best thing that ever could have happened to her. Not one of her sisters ended up with a husband anywhere near as nice as my dad.

She knows that. Next, she'll realize that her daughters should have a beautiful wedding even if it is a hassle and a big expense. Nothing is more fun than a wedding for bringing family members together from all over the country. It sure beats meeting up again for a funeral.

I wonder which of our Kean cousins will marry next. The oldest Kean boy, Jim, has four daughters, and they all married in order of age. The youngest one got married last fall. The second brother, Dan, had his first son marry next. The next oldest cousin is Colleen, first child of Pat. If the Keans keep marrying in the same order as they were born, Dan's son Tom should be next in line. Then the youngest son, Tim, my dad, would have his first child, Miles, but this is getting complicated and mathematical. On my mom's side, nobody married in order. Daughter #5 married before Daughter #4 and Daughter #3 came lost, and Daughter #2 eloped, and Daughter #1 was murdered at almost 19 back in 1975.

I can't help wondering what cousins I might have had, if Aunt Julie had lived, married and had children. How many other weddings would there have been?

Unlike my mom's father, who had just one sister, and she never married or had kids, I have plenty of cousins. Even with my mom losing her sister, and my dad losing his sister Patricia to leukemia when she was only four, I still have lots of cousins to enjoy. Weddings and holidays are always pleasant and fun with Dad's side of the family, even if a lot of people came to exist when four sons each had two, three, or four children, so there are thirteen Kean cousins, plus the children of the three oldest cousins. On Mom's side, there aren't quite so many cousins, and none of them have married yet or had children.

Whenever the time comes for Miles, Claire and I to get married, I know we'll never get all our cousins from both sides of the family to show up for the weddings. But I'm glad Miles made it, after all, to Colleen's wedding. It wouldn't have felt complete without him.

Yet Another Wedding: But Problems Arise

Yep, you heard it. I am off to yet another wedding, but this time in Lincoln, Nebraska. And I am a bridesmaid for the very first time, along with my sister, Claire. I have been getting ready to leave all morning, but then the phone rang. It was my brother. Both my brother and my sister had already missed out on the first wedding in Connecticut because they were busy with college and work. Now my brother is going to miss this one too. It makes no sense. A long time ago, far in advance, he asked for Friday through Sunday off. He was going to drive from Iowa City to our house, then we would drive to pick up my sister at Iowa State, then we would be on the road to Nebraska for six hours. Yet for some reason (who knows why?), Miles' boss scheduled him to work. I do not know why, but no one can fill in for him and they cannot live just one day without him.

This is utterly depressing. It angers me greatly. I do not remember the last time I spent time with both my brother and my sister at the same time. Ironically, in the middle of writing this blog post, I got a call from Miles telling me he now can come, but it is eleven thirty in the morning and we were planning on leaving at noon. He still has to drive from Iowa City to our house, which is about forty five minutes away. At the same time, even though his boss says he can leave today, he also says it would help a lot of Miles could stay and drive to the wedding himself tomorrow. I do not have all of the details as my dad just got off the phone with him.

This reminds me of the other dilemma, which fortunately got solved. Yesterday my mom went to pick up my dress from getting steamed at David's Bridal. The problem is, however, when I tried it on there was a major problem with the him that I still cannot explain or understand, but the dress did not hang properly. It also was very wrinkly despite it having been steamed. My mom was furious. She had already spent hours and hours shopping getting jewelry and shoes for the wedding and had gone to David's Bridal once already.

We knew that something had to be done. There was no other option. So we went to David's Bridal a second time in one day and had to have the seamstress find time in her busy schedule to fix it. Fortunately, after she was finished working on a wedding dress, she was able to fix it in about ten minutes. She told us to come back an hour and a half later to pick it up. Again, my mom was very angry and stressed out. We had to kill time shopping again until the dress was ready. Luckily, the dress is great now. The seamstress did a good job and found time to fix it. It was also steamed a second time. Hopefully there will be no more problems!

Mom's Obsession with Oktoberfest

"There are two kinds of music: German music, and bad music," said H.L. Mencken in last week's Crypto-Quote in the Gazette. It was the last thing my mother needed to read right before Octoberfest (no, OKTOBERFEST, she'd say).

My mother is American, Iowan, and fourth-generation German. This means her great-great-great-grandparents got brave one day, one year, one century, and they found their way out of Baden Baden or Schleswig Holstein and made it to Iowa in the mid-1800s. They farmed. They ate potatoes. They raised pigs, milked cows, and hitched the plow to giant workhorses. They worked up an appetite, drank beer, ate bacon and potatoes and pie crust made of lard. They spoke German until Hitler caused people with German last names all sorts of shame and embarrassment. My mom's father spoke German and English until he was in kindergarten. To this day he says he doesn't like Germans or Germany, accordions, The Amana Colonies, or anything German--unless it's edible. He likes bratwurst and sauerkraut, pies, potato salad, pickled herring, pickled anything, and other weird things that led to Germans being known as Krauts. The point I am making here is that any German in my mother's blood is wearing thin. An ocean, a century or two, Hitler, and several generations of DNA have come between Mom and the land of the cuckoo clock, the castle and the accordion. Please note I did not mention Germany as the Land of the Nibelungenlied. Mom is obsessed with "the German Illiad" too.

Mom was raised in the 1970s in a time when people had access to record players, radios and televisions. I mention this because technology brought us music with the flick of a switch, which liberated the world from live music. These days, we think of live music as a good thing, but there was a time when the only available music came from local musicians who only know how to play accordions  fiddles or harmonicas. "Little Brown Jug" and "Turkey in the Straw" were the popular tunes of the day.  However, by the time my mother could walk and talk, nobody played those songs anymore. Not even old people in nursing homes listened to or danced polkas, Schottisches and waltzes. Most of civilization had come to hate polka music--unless it was October and they all got really drunk first. Mom, through some peculiar back-flip of the DNA, likes German music. She likes it morning, noon or night. She likes it from the beginning of October through the end of September the next calendar year. To be fair, she likes Mozart and Mahler too, but her favorite music of all is The Underdog theme song because of the accordion nobody but Mom would ever hear in that song.

If anyone thinks it's bad enough to grow up in the 21st Century with a mother who left her heart in Munich before she was even born, imagine a mother who drags her children to hear accordion music played live. This happened in Swisher, Iowa, when a Mr. and Mrs. Livermore carried their children to polka dances. Their daughter Becky caught the polka bug and started taking accordion lessons at age ten. She has since recorded ten CDs as Barefoot Becky and the Ivanhoe Dutchmen. Every year she and her band play awful songs at the Amana Colonies Oktoberfest. The worst song of all has to be "O Du Schone Schnitzelbank," and if you think the photo is bad, try clicking on the you-tube link and listening to the song!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=igvuCl3udgU&feature=related

Every year, my mother lures us to the Amana Colonies with promises of parades, sugar cookies that never taste as good as they look, hamburgers that taste better than they look, and pretty pumpkin decorations. Somehow, she manages to keep us in the Amanas until she's gotten to hear that awful song. Grandpa tells me the words, as sung by Barefoot Becky, are the same words he learned, and they're stupid enough to kill brain cells on impact.

Ist das nicht ein Schnitzelbank? / Is not that a Schnitzelbank?
Ja das nicht ein Schnitzelbank. / Yes this is not a schnitzel bank.
Ist das nicht ein Haufen Mist? / Is not that a bunch of crap?
Ja das ist ein Haufen Mist. / Yes that's a bunch of crap.

Oh du schoene Schnitzelbank, / Oh you beautiful Schnitzelbank,
Oh du schoene Schnitzelbank. /Oh you beautiful Schnitzelbank.

There's no telling what damage this may have done to me on a cellular level. My children or grandchildren might enter this world with a passion for polka. My mom must have gotten it from her dad's mother, who always wished her only son would learn to play the accordion, but that was one wish he never granted her. 

If my mother had to like German "music," and I use that term very carelessly here, she could have liked real music. And the scary thing is, she does. My voice teacher wants me to learn Schubert's "Du Bist die Ruh" ("you are my peace"), and Mom just had to hear every version of it on you-tube, and just had to get hooked on a version of it  made famous by a long-dead German tenor. I'm supposed to memorize this song and perform it at a contest in November, but already I am so sick of hearing it, I wonder what my life would be like if Mom had a passion for jazz, or Brazilian samba. My brother does. Where did that come from? My dad plays classical music on the piano. He may have an Irish name, Kean, but his mom was all German and his dad was half German. Even so, my dad hates polka music as much as I do.

So what happened to my mom?

Mom's mother claims to have a little Native American on her side of the family. Supposedly, my mom's great-great-great-great grandmother, Ruby Masaqueto, was Algonquin. There is hope, then, of something better than German polka in our genes. Right?

Wrong.

Don't ever, ever ask me to blog about the CD my mom bought, full of Native American flutes, drum beats and grown men wailing. Hot, dry weather drove these people to such desperation, they sang and danced to a rain god asking for water to fall from the sky. Judging by the CD, it's no wonder the West is mostly desert. This so-called music had to have sent every last cloud to South America in search of better music.

Before the next Oktoberfest rolls around, I hope my mom will have discovered something in her ancestry that pulls her like a magnet to real music, no matter what nation, or galaxy, it comes from.

Ist das nicht ein Haufen Mist? 
Ja das ist ein Haufen Mist.

By the way, I'm still not sure what exactly a Schnitzelbank is, and I am not eager to find out. 

Meeting new people and cultures

Over the weekend, my sister came home from Iowa State University, where she is studying fashion design. She asked if she could bring along her roommate, Sarah, and a new friend. A couple times each week my sister goes to Turkish class to learn the new language and the friend she brought home for dinner was her teacher. His name is Abdul, and he is working on a PhD in mechanical engineering. My dad is an electrical engineer at Rockwell and Abdul hopes to work there after he graduates, although now is not a good time in this economy. Rockwell Collins is planning on laying off another hundred or so employees within the next month, so I am even worried about my dad losing his job.

What I found most striking about Abdul was that he had never spent time with an American family even though he has lived in the United States for more than two years now. In fact, my sister was the first American girl to initiate a conversation with him and have dinner with him. This made me a little sad that there are so many people at Iowa State University, yet most people will not even make an effort to converse with a foreign student.

I really enjoyed his company and thought it was so cool learning about another culture and religion (Abdul is Muslim). I enjoyed listening him to sing in Turkish and play his lap-drum by the bonfire. It was like nothing I had ever heard before. I also liked hearing stories about Abdul and his family back home in Turkey. His great-grandfather was a great healer of broken bones, and he actually saved a wild bobcat and kept him as a pet for fifteen years!  In the winter he found the bobcat injured and brought him into the house and set his broken leg. The bobcat slept by the fire every night. He set the cat free when it was healed, and the cat would often leave a dead animal at the doorstep, the feline thank you, in tribute to the human who'd saved his life. Every winter the cat would come back to sleep by the fireside.

I think we can all learn something from this; I know I can. We should not be afraid to talk to other people who are different from us, foreign, even if they seem scary. We should make conversation with them and be welcoming towards them. We can learn something from them and make new friends, and they can learn something as well in addition to meeting new people.

Obama's past

For all those of you who support Obama and plan on voting for him this November, please think again. I already knew I would not vote for him if I were old enough, but after seeing the new documentary about Obama's past, it only furthered my decisision. I am sure plenty of you are aware that Obama wrote a book called "Dreams From My Father", but I doubt most of you know what exactly is in it. 

If you read the book, you will see that Obama mentions a man named Frank frequently throughout the book, who he calls his mentor, but he never once mentions Frank's last name. This is for a very good and bad reason. The Frank he is referring to is actually Frank Marshall Davis, a Communist Party USA propagandist in Chicago and Hawaii. Davis was under investigation and surveillance by the FBI for nineteen years, creating a six hundred-page FBI file. He was listed under the FBI's "Security Index A", meaning he would be arrested in the event of a national emergency. 

Frank Marshall Davis was also a poet and writer, and in his columns, he blamed American capitalism for starting World War II and preached distribution of wealth and nationalization of industry and government health care, while bashing Wall Street. Obama apparently believes in all these ideas. Just take a minute to think about it. Obama seems to be ready to basically turn America into a Socialist country, while Europeans must be asking, "Why on earth are you trying to ruin America's economy and create all the problems we are having?"

President Obama speaks often in favor of "spreading the wealth" while his half-brother in Africa lives in a hut and his annual income is only twenty dollars. Twenty dollars a year! The half-brother was interviewed in the documentary I watched, 2016 Obama's America. The film is based on conservative author Dinesh D’Souza’s 2010 best-selling book The Roots Of Obama’s Rage. D’Souza grew up in India and says he just wanted people to question what an Obama second term would look like.

I can guess what it would look like: scary.

It isn't just in China that kids go hungry

"Eat it," mothers love to tell their kids. "Some hungry child is starving in China."

And your point, mothers everywhere, would be...what? If I eat lima beans, some nameless kid in some foreign country will not be hungry anymore? Sorry Mom, that line just does not do it for me.

At Sunday Mass, the missionaries come around with stories about starving people all over the globe, from Ethiopia to Guatemala. The Heifer Project reminds us to spend our Christmas funds on gifts that keep on giving--a cow that can be milked daily, a chicken that supplies eggs, rabbits that produce more rabbits--and always, these gifts go to some country that looks sunny and mountainous and exotic.

But we do not have to go that far to find hungry children.

In the Cedar Rapids Gazette on September 12, "Some kids go hungry here, too" was the editorial. Here in Cedar Rapids, there are students who get one meal a day - the cafeteria lunch. Yeah, that one. My mom stopped volunteering in the grade school lunch room because she couldn't bear to see how much food was getting thrown away every day. I could think of many reasons to avoid being in that cafeteria, Mom, but your reason never would have entered my mind.

It's hard to imagine that some kids are so hungry, they'd eat everything on the tray - at school. Karla Goettel wrote in a an editorial in the September 20 Gazette that one child who was about to be sent home sick said wait, don't make me go home before lunch, or I won't find anything to eat at home.

I've never lived in a neighborhood where kids aren't being fed, where cupboards are empty, and parents don't have money to buy groceries. I don't see these kids, but they exist, and now United Way and HACAP (Hawkeye Area Community Action Program) are raising money to help feed the hungry at our schools.

Food Banks used to cover the needs of the hungry, but they haven't been able to meet the demand lately. Instead of asking for donations of food, they're asking for money. Karla Goettel's editorial said each dollar you donate will buy 12 dollars worth of groceries from whatever source they have.

"We are raising money instead of holding a food drive," she wrote, "because HACAP can purchase food through Feeding America and stretch $1 in donations to $12 in food purchases. We also have a goal of providing only nutritious, child-friendly food. Each backpack contains 3,200 carefully selected calories, enough to sustain a young child for two days."

Operation Back Pack has been launched this month. I would like to get Kennedy High School involved. We could have a donation jar in the office, the library, maybe even in home rooms, for students to donate quarters and dollar bills they might otherwise spend at a vending machine. For about $5.50 per week per child, or $220 a year, a student can be fed nutritious food instead of going to school hungry, distracted and unable to focus. "Hungry children make poor students," Karla wrote, "and poor students make poor citizens." How badly do we need a can of soda after school or a candy bar? Think about the kid who would eat the school's greasy fish sticks and no-longer-green beans and actually wish for more. Seeing anyone that hungry would make me think twice about buying whatever granola bar or root beer might be tempting me.

School nurses and teachers will identify food-insecure children"-- students who seem to be underfed. They are not always the same kids who qualify for free or reduced-price school lunches. Volunteers are needed for packing and distribution of the food that will be sent home in backpacks with the students.

I hope Kennedy students will do their part and bring in spare change. If 220 students brought in a dollar a week, one kid would be spared going hungry all year at school. As John F. Kennedy himself said, much is expected from those who have been given much. Most of us are well fed, way too many of us are obese, and we can do more to help others who have been given less in life.

For the good our community, Karla wrote, please donate generously. Contact HACAP at P.O. Box 490, Hiawatha, IA 52333.

Kennedy students have a history of community involvement. If only I had not been home sick all five days last week, Monday through Friday, I would have met with Mr. Benedict to see if his American Government class is already at work on Operation Backpack.

More on hunger in America: www.freedomfromhunger.org/


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

Excerpts from the Gazette:

http://thegazette.com/2012/09/12/some-kids-go-hungry-here-too/

No loving parent or caring adult wants to see a child go hungry, without enough healthy food needed for proper physical and mental development. Sadly, it happens far too often on our planet, especially in Third World countries. But how often are children undernourished here in America, in Cedar Rapids, Iowa?

Apparently, more often than you might suspect. Representatives of United Way of East Central Iowa and the Hawkeye Area Community Action Program told us that about 1 in 4 Cedar Rapids kids in grades K-6 are “food insecure” — that is, they miss a meal at least once every five days and aren’t getting enough healthy food overall. These organizations also ask: If the only meals children eat each day are at school, what do these children do when there is no school?” such as on weekends.

It’s a “quiet crisis, and it shouldn’t be,” Karla Goettel of United Way told us Tuesday.

and

http://thegazette.com/2012/09/20/feeding-children-helps-nourish-citizens/

As a community volunteer who was very active in flood recovery, I was invited to join the United Way’s Hunger-Free Network. This consortium of food-aid agencies recognized last spring that the Back Pack Program run by HACAP — Hawkeye Area Community Action Program Inc. — needed additional funding.

I am excited to be a part of the team working to ensure that all of Cedar Rapids Community Schools’ elementary school children have access to sufficient and nutritious food on weekends and during school vacations. Other team members include Amanda Pieper, director of HACAP’s Food Reservoir, and Greg Goodell, coordinator of the Back Pack Program.

Our goal is to raise more than $100,000 to expand and sustain the program. It is available in only six of our 21 elementary schools. We are seeing rising numbers of requests in these schools. Taylor’s requests increased from 25 back packs last year to 50 this year. The participating children’s families must meet federal poverty guidelines.

We are raising money instead of holding a food drive because HACAP can purchase food through Feeding America and stretch $1 in donations to $12 in food purchases. We also have a goal of providing only nutritious, child-friendly food. Each pack back contains 3,200 carefully selected calories, enough to sustain a young child for two days.

We thank The Gazette for its support in the Sept. 12 editorial. Now I call upon all corporations, organizations and individuals in the community to make this happen. Could your church take a special offering to help? How about your office, book club, bridge club, service organization? A family might decide to support one child for a school year ($220.)

Studies have shown that proper nutrition is critical to a child’s brain development. Hungry children make poor students and poor students make poor citizens.

Former Feeding America President Vicky Escarra has said that more children are going hungry now. For the good of our children and the wellness of our community, please donate generously. Contact HACAP at P.O. Box 490, Hiawatha, IA 52233. All contributions are tax deductible.

Karla Goettel is a wife, mother, friend, singer, teacher and community volunteer. Comments: goettel@mchsi.com

A days, B days...

As I was leaving Spanish class today, a friend ran into me and asked why I was not in Concert Choir. I was utterly puzzled. Was today not an A day? Is not every Monday an A day? I guess not. After standing there talking to her, frazzled and red in the face, I got my pass to English class and left. I was determined to figure this out. I checked the schedule the counselor gave me. My schedule is very confusing because I am in Chamber Choir. I looked down at the piece of paper, utterly perplexed. As I thought, it read "Fourth hour-Spanish IV with Ms. Bruce, Room 118 on A days, with Concert Choir with Mr. Ziegler on B days". Chamber Choir is on A days during sixth hour and on B days, I have Spanish IV sixth period. This rotates every other day in order to fit Chamber Choir into my schedule. So what could have possibly gone wrong? Why would we have had Concert Choir on an A day when it is supposed to be on B days? When I arrived to AP English, I asked around and was finally told that not every Monday is an A day. Since there are five days in a week, it will always switch so that one Monday is an A day and the following Monday will be a B day. This was all unbeknownst to me until now. To make matters worse, since I thought today was an A day, I had already attended Spanish IV class. Normally this would not be a problem, since on the days I have fourth hour Spanish, I go to Chamber Choir sixth period. But since today is not an A day, there is no Chamber Choir and only Moonlight, which I did not try out for and am not in. This is a major problem. I cannot go to Moonlight and I have already gone to Spanish. So what shall I do? I have absolutely no idea. I suppose I will go and talk to Mr. Armstrong since Mr. Ziegler was not here today and let him know what happened. Then maybe he will have some ideas. If not, I suppose I could try and go to study hall for just one day even though I do not normally have one. That ought to work. Regardless, I have learned my lesson as a new student at Kennedy High School: not every Monday is an A day!

Mom. Get Over It.

Our dog Blaise died July 19, 2012, on my sister's 19th birthday. He'd been getting slower and weaker every day for two years. Toward the end, we had to boost his back legs to get him up the one step into the house. His voice turned to a whisper. But if we skyped Claire, who was in Spain all year, Blaise would sit up and woof softly at the sound of her voice. We had to leave him behind in the big dog pen with Bailey, his sister, when we drove to the airport to get Claire on July 18. We came home to find him looking dead. He lifted his head for Claire and wagged but couldn't stand and walk to her. We kept him inside all night even though he lost control of all bodily fluids, and into the next day. He couldn't do anything but swallow ice and hang on, and on, as if to say, "I'm not leaving you. I can't bark or eat or drink or get up, but so long as you are here with me, I will never die. I am your loyal Blaise. I am here for you." We  drove him to the vet...and Mom told Blaise it was okay to go. We'd somehow manage. And we did. Somehow. Even Bailey seems okay without her brother. But Mom keeps going to the animal shelter and looking at cats. She hates cats. And yet she keeps falling in love with big, gentle, calm, long-haired cats who somehow remind her of Blaise. But no one will ever replace Blaise. Yes, Mom, there are so many, many other furry creatures out there who need love and a warm lap. But we have Bobinski. Without my little kitty, it would have been so much harder for me to lose Blaise. Cats live 14 to 20 years. Blaise didn't make it to his 12th birthday. We had a lot of good years but 12 wasn't enough. Bobinksi had better live to age 20, at least. Try being happy with the cat we have, Mom, and stop going to the pound.

http://photos.petfinder.com/photos/US/IA/IA125/22856351/IA125.22856351-1-pn.jpg

New Info. on Alzheimer's disease

I just read an article in the "New Scientist" journal about Alzheimer's disease. A diet high in calories and sugar is not just bad for your body; it could also trigger dementia. The hormone insulin is known for controlling blood sugar levels, but it also plays a major role in brain signaling. Poor sensitivity to insulin is mostly associated with type two diabetes, in which liver, fat, and muscle cells fail to respond to the hormone. But a study with rats has made some researchers wonder whether Alzheimer's could sometimes be another version of diabetes-one that hits the brain. Some have even renamed it "type 3 diabetes." People who already have type 2 diabetes may be especially at risk. 35.7% of people in the United States are obese, which puts them at a higher risk for developing Alzheimer's. There are things you can to do prevent this, however. Regular exercise has been shown to decrease the risk of by as much as forty percent. Eating healthier is especially important as well. When people regularly binge on fatty, sugary foods their insulin spikes continuously until it sticks at a higher level. Muscle, liver, and fat cells stop responding to the hormone, meaning they do not mop up glucose and fat in the blood. Because of this, the pancreas has to work extremely hard to make more insulin to control the glucose and the levels of the to molecules skyrocket. Weight gain only worsens the problem. Eighty percent of people with type 2 diabetes are also overweight or obese. Because of our addiction to fast food, type 2 diabetes is always on the rise. In the United States alone, nineteen million people have already been diagnosed with the condition, and a further seventy nine million are considered "pre-diabetic", showing some early symptoms of insulin resistance. If Alzheimer's and type 2 diabetes do share similar components, levels of dementia may follow a similar pattern as we grow older. Even if a person does not develop diabetes, a poor diet may be enough to cause brain degeneration.  When you consider that obesity is a large risk factor for both diabetes and dementia, all the signs suggest that our addiction to junk food could cause trouble for our mental health in the future. On the bright side, a new nasal spray may be a possible treatment for those who already have Alzheimer's disease. This device delivers insulin deep into the nose to get to the brain more quickly. This was done in a study of one hundred four people and the glucose metabolism in their brains improved. I wish this information had been discovered while my grandma was still alive because she had Alzheimer's and this could have possibly helped her or at least have prevented it from worsening. Hopefully other people can still be helped. 

School Sysem in Spain

Today and yesterday, in Spanish IV, we were watching a video about the school system in Latin America. These kids have to take very challenging tests and end up with very bad scores. They get very nervous and worried before taking them and they also do not learn or understand very much of what they are studying or being tested over. Should we not find this to be problematic? I sure think so. After watching the video, it made me think of my sister's friend in Spain. She is studying to become a lawyer. She is the exact same age as my sister (nineteen years old), but she has been in college for a couple of years now. That's right. She has already been at a university for a while now. This girl studies for literally eighteen hours every single day! She barely eats anything at all and has no free time. She gets absolutely no exercise whatsoever. I am not kidding. When our family took her hiking at Lake MacBride, she told us that it was the first time she had exercised in over a year. What kind of life is this for a teenager? Blanca actually visited our family this summer after my sister spent a year abroad in Spain with her and Blanca told us how she prefers our school system in the United States. I can see why. The Spanish class video also made me think of the host family my sister, Claire, stayed with. Claire's little sisters in Spain wake up in the morning, go to school for long hours, stay there for after school activities, then come home. Once they are home, they do their homework all night long until dinner. Then they shower and go to bed. They also learn English on the side and the mother makes them practice every day and do homework outside of school. In fact, when my sister arrived in Spain, she wanted to practice her Spanish but, instead, the mother ordered her to speak only English with the little sisters. This is what every single day consists of for these girls. They do not get to live a normal, happy childhood where they can play and have fun. No child should miss out on these things. Amina and Mara may be more challenged and know more than a student in America, but I believe children should have enjoyable childhoods and be able to express their creativity.

Clean Shaven Men

super manly, said no one, ever

When did clean-cut men go out of style? Not in my book. Everyone today, my own brother and cousins included, somehow got the idea that real men grow beards. Trouble is, these guys cannot produce anything impressive in the way of facial hair. Their upper lips look dirty. Their chins appear to be covered with crusted spaghetti sauce (redheads) or stiff wire bristles from Mom's kitchen scrubbers.

Last week on Facebook, a cartoon made the rounds--two gossipy Victorian ladies with a caption "Wow, that guy in the skinny jeans looks super manly, said no one, ever." And that's what I say about guys today trying to grow beards. "What a gorgeous guy, and wow, love that bristly little bit of stubble on his chin," said no girl, EVER.

Weddings

As you may know, I had to miss two days of school to go to my cousin's wedding in Connecticut. Was it worth it? Yes and no. No, because I had to miss school and then do lots of make-up work and get behind on things. No, because it meant four days on the road of constant driving. No, because I got sick in the car so I could not do a lot of school work on the way. No, because my brother and sister really wanted to come, too, but they could not afford to miss any classes in college or miss work. And lastly, no, because we offered my cousin lots of money instead of going because we told them it really just wouldn't work, but they still wanted us to come. So we went, but my brother and sister did not come and are still really upset. It was worth it, on the other hand, for a few reasons. One, I got to miss school. Two, I got to spend time with my cousins and see the special wedding day. Three, I had lots of fun. But other than that? I don't think it was worth it, to be honest. I do not think someone should pressure another person to come to his/her wedding when those people are busy with school and work and flying is way to expensive and driving takes far too long (and not to mention, wastes gas and money). I think people should respect people's decisions and take no for an answer. My family offered a very generous compromise. My parents offered a lot of money instead of attending the wedding, but that was not good enough. They wanted us to come, and so we did. Would I do it again? Maybe. Maybe not.