Whistling the Classics

My bus journey today started with a beautifully haunting moment in the Union Station bus parking lot. It's always crowded, and people are rushing to catch their buses. Yet, in the midst of the crowds, I heard a distinct melody.

It was, in fact, Beethoven's Für Elise. 

Where was that song coming from? Oh, from one of the bus attendants. He was a pretty impressive whistler.

As you well know, the elegance of a classical composer is not a typical part of my bus trips. I took a moment to stop and listen. 

In the dark

My family celebrated my dad's birthday a couple days early this evening, and my mom and I made a key lime pie. At desert time, we realized we had no heavy cream to make the whipped cream topping, so I offered to go out and buy some.

In DC, we live on a cul-de-sac with stairs making a shortcut down to the main road with the market. In the daytime, it's a walk in the park.

At nighttime, it looks like this (with the flash):

Yikes. For a moment, I panicked. It was completely pitch black, and I seem to have a penchant for falling and hurting myself even in broad daylight. I also just finished reading Blindness by Jose Saramago (featuring a world in which blindness is an epidemic) and to put it lightly, the book really freaked me out about losing my sight. I regretted not bringing a flashlight.

Then, I remembered that I have a flashlight app on my phone. My grandma marveled frequently throughout this past week that the world is so caught up in these devices, and she's right. As a former camper and camp counselor, I felt almost silly using a flashlight app instead of the real thing. I know I need more distance from my phone.

But...it sure works in a pinch.

Teaching on the Fly

Teachers are always told that they need to expect the unexpected. This philosophy once again proved to be true today when I found myself teaching my grandma's morning exercise class at her assisted living community in Louisiana. I kid you not. This really happened.

Let's back up a bit. My mom and I have been attending morning exercise with my grandma and some of her fellow residents a couple times this past week. An instructor has lead us in some chair stretches and light weight lifting. Each of these times, my mom and I have come in late, so this morning we were determined to be on time - early, even.

We were sitting in the exercise room, ready to go, when the recreation director came over and told us there probably wasn't going to be anyone wanting to exercise today. Well, sure enough, my grandma and two other residents came over to attend class. The recreation director said there was no instructor available today on account of Good Friday, but that we could turn on an exercise DVD. Now the last time I actually owned a TV, there was only one remote, so even between the two of us we could not figure out how to turn on that DVD.

Finally the recreation director turned to me and said, "Well, unless you want to lead it yourself, it looks like morning exercise is not going to happen."

The residents looked at me expectantly. I knew what I had to do. So I did it.

I want to say that I faked my way through the moves pretty well. I managed to remember most of the exercises we had done over the past couple of days and my mom filled in when I forgot a few. Most importantly, the ladies seemed to trust that I actually knew what I was doing, despite the fact that I certainly had attended fewer morning exercise classes than they had. In the span of a moment, I had become their morning exercise instructor.

I guess that's what I get for being punctual. Can I add this to my resume now?

Pass the bunny bait?

Today my mom and I attended an Easter party in my grandma's residence. Well, the word party might be stretching it a bit. The party consisted of 15 individuals sitting silently around a long table festooned with chocolate and Easter eggs. I tried to liven up the party by shaking hands and introducing myself. However, after the perfunctory pleasantries (who I was, the warm weather, and how they were feeling), the conversation lagged. I couldn't tell if the problem was that they couldn't hear me or that they just didn't know what to say. It was awkward, to say the least.

Even the arrival of the Easter Bunny didn't help much. My mom made me take this picture.

A bit later, the activities coordinator brought out some bowls of what she called "bunny bait", basically a mixture of chocolate eggs, pretzels, popcorn, and other assorted trail mix items. I was seated near the front of the table, and I automatically started to pass the first bowl of bunny bait to the woman on my right. Maybe it was all of my years of camp training, but it seemed like the right thing to do. The activities coordinator told me that I should keep my bowl. She would take care of delivering each individual portion to each resident.

However, at that point, it was too late. I had passed a couple bowls to my right, and chaos started to ensue. 

"WHAT ARE WE SUPPOSED TO DO?" 

"PASS THE BOWLS DOWN!" 

"WHAT?!" 

"PASS THE BUNNY BAIT DOWN!"

"WHAT??!"

"NO, YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO KEEP THE BUNNY BAIT!"

Finally, one older lady burst out laughing, and everyone had a chuckle at the mess we had made of the bunny bait system. Even the activities coordinator cracked a smile. 

I certainly know how to liven up a party.

Taking a Moment

I realized today that I haven't felt the sun on my face in forever. I may just be exaggerating, or as my students would say with a great deal of prompting, using hyperbole. Well, it feels like forever. It's been a long, dreary winter in Philadelphia, and I had my mind set on sunny skies when I traveled to Louisiana. The first few days were freezing for the South - just a few degrees above the North.

Finally, today, it was warm enough to sit outside without a jacket. My grandma's dog, Ringo, is constantly in motion. It's very difficult for this little dog to sit and just take a moment. I am often the same way. Yet today, I lay down on a bench outside my grandma's place, stuck Ringo on my lap, and we both took a moment to lounge in the sun.

Immediately upon taking this picture, of course, Ringo hopped down and scurried as far away as the leash would let him go.

Moon

I'm not sure if it's quite a full moon, but I know it was breathtaking today in Ruston, LA.

This picture really doesn't do it justice. Did you see it?

Yes ma'am, no ma'am

You guessed it - I'm in the South for a week. No matter how many times I visit, I can never quite get used to the, "Yes ma'am, no ma'am" of it all. I often fall into the practice when I'm speaking to my family members, but it always surprises me to hear it from other people. Saying "yes ma'am" does really add something to the end of a sentence. It softens the phrase, and makes it sound just a bit friendlier. They aren't lying when they talk about Southern Hospitality - especially in this town, where everyone knows everybody.

Today, I went to go pick up some treats for my grandma's dog, Ringo. I walked into the Vet Clinic, and everyone was so friendly. Did they know my grandma? "Yes ma'am, and she is the sweetest." Did they have the treats ready? "Yes ma'am, of course, right here. Isn't Ringo the cutest dog?" The receptionist next informed me that the total was $20.96. I looked at my grandma's pre-written check of $20.95, and laughingly told them that she must have forgotten a penny. I fully expected her to say something like, "Oh don't you worry ma'am, $20.95 is perfectly fine. Bless her heart." Yet without missing a beat, the lady handed me a pen and told me to change the "5" to a "6". "Is that alright, ma'am?"

"Yes ma'am, that'll be fine", I muttered.