A recent post by Ruth talked about place and its importance which got me thinking. I had planned on writing about finally reaching the end of the school year (June 23rd). So, both ideas came together.

The family pool
Happy, happy.
How can a pool not be?
A constant since childhood.
Races, diving.
Flying down the slide 
in creative variations;
Screaming, shouting,
Constant danger of getting tossed in
If you foolishly wandered the edge.
Raft wars; Marco Polo
Lying out with (back then)
Baby oil and tanning reflectors,
Hot creamy lotion, greased arms
coconut and banana smells.
Baking until you needed to jump
Cool, cool water. Emerge dripping.

Kiss-108 blaring and the Saturday
ritual listening of Wishing on A Star.
A pool for all the neighborhood kids
an everyone’s pool
all day, mornings, afternoons.
Popsicles and chips and tonic (not soda!)
Soggy towels, stubbed toes, burning cement.

And best of all, floating, languid, on
a raft, staring up.
Treetops, clouds, sky.
Now the pool is
taken over by the young
Nephews, nieces, their friends.
Ipods, texting.
Still Kiss-108.
Still shouts and screams.
And for me, still floating.
Looking at the sky.

In the beginning, as with all relationships, a simple gesture charmed and entranced us. A look, a turn, a sighting. We congratulated ourselves on our foresight and reveled in the wonder of it all.

And then reality raced in. Our backyard paradise, replete with robins, blue jays, cardinals, squirrels and chipmunks happily coexisting with us, the feeders, crumbled. The daily ritual of throwing out bird seed to attract wildlife had transformed our clever, fat squirrels into evil masterminds.

“I think that squirrel is up to something.” I pointed out a few weeks ago while looking out the kitchen window. “He stares right at me with a look of contempt.” Of course, my family thought I was the one with the problem. Yet, I kept track of the gray creatures as they drew closer and closer to the house with their challenging glances towards me. They were definitely plotting.

In the first attack, the ring leader chewed a hole the size of a grapefruit in the screen of our enclosed porch. He welcomed himself to the bag of seed and urinated on the furniture. Although clever enough to get in, the squirrel trapped himself inside. It took several hours to coax the intruder out.

Betrayal and outrage replaced our awe and joy. After all, what did those greedy squirrels want? They were being fed. They had to go and ruin the bucolic dream. After a second invasion via a melon-shaped hole, we appealed to the experts. Local hardware and gardening centers were amused at our distress. They shared their squirrel horror stories and offered little relief.

After a few days interruption, we resumed feeding the birds. Why should the birds suffer because some animals are selfish? Yet, it is not the same. We rattle cans and tap the windows to scare the squirrels. Our porch is immersed with vinegar to mask any enticiing smells. The bird seed has been removed to the garage. We are now hunkering down.

In Ruth’s recent post, she asked about the reasons and excuses that keep you from writing.  

Reasons

Slow, slow writing
Swallows huge blocks of time;

Terrible time management
wastes needed opportunity;

Questioning doubt
paralyzes the ideas;

The notion-belief that your
offerings are not as good as;

Illegible handwriting that
devours thoughts;

The everything that is more sparkly
to the procrastinator.

On sunny days in the 70s, it should be a perk to have lunch recess duty. By the end of the year, the younger grades know how to run pell mell and scream without the fall epidemic of bumped heads, cut legs and friends who won’t play with you. For the teachers, the supervisors, it is a snap.

Yet, we teachers are not breezy or easy. It is June, after all. As we walk the playground, we bemoan the assessments, the deadlines, and the crawling days of the calendar. Summer seems too far away to be real.

A young student runs up to us. J’s voice emanates urgency. He is highly sensitive and often overwhelmed by everyday events. We prepare for the meltdown replete with tears and cries of unfairness. “I was playing and X kicked the ball right into my stomach!”.

We wait.

“And you know what?” J screams. “I handled it.” And he runs off. We are left looking at each other.

A moment of playground clarity for us. “I handled it.”

There is only a half hour left (for me) of the 48 Hour Book Challenge. Here is my summary:

Actual Reading/Blogging Goal: 21 Hours
Projected Goal Reading:   12 Hours
Books Read:   Completed Five Whole Books, Finished One, Started One
                 Total: 7 Titles
                 Major Pettigrew's Last Stand (had already started -- completed)
                 Fabled Fourth Graders of Aesop Elementary School
                 Catherine Called Birdy
                 Diary of a Wimpy Kid: The Awful Truth
                 Kitty and the Midnight Hour
                 Winter Gardens
                 The Lost Hero (three chapters)
Blog Reading/Commenting: One Hour
Charity: $100 for Birthday Wishes (provides birthday parties for children living in homeless shelters).

My third update:

Completed Catherine Called Birdy by Karen Cushman 6:20-6:50 (30 minutes).
Completed: Kitty and the Midnight Hour by Carrie Vaughn 8-11:30 (3-1/2 hrs)
Reading Blogs: 30 minutes

Total: 4-1/2 hours

Total so far: Fourteen Hours

48 Hour Book Challenge Update: I have cobbled together four-and-1/2 hours in reading time:

Completed: The Fabled Fourth Graders of Aesop Elementary School by Candace Fleming
On page 156: Catherine Called Birdy by Karen Cushman

Completed two books (I was already halfway through one when I started the 48 Hour Challenge).

Major Pettigrew's Last Stand - by Helen Simonson
Diary of a Wimpy Kid: The Ugly Truth - by Jeff Kinney

Total Reading:  Four and 1/2  Hours
Blogging/Reading Blogs: Thirty Minutes
Total: Five Hours

Okay. As posted earlier, I am officially kicking off the 48 Hour Book Challenge sponsored by MotherReader. Start time: tonight, June 3rd at 8:30 p.m. End Time:  June 5th at 8:30 p.m.

First up, finishing off Major Pettigrew's Last Stand by Helen Simonson.

This weekend I am participating, for the first time, in the annual 48 Hour Book Challenge sponsored by MotherReader. The rules are simple: spend as much time as you can reading and blogging in a 48-hour period between June 3 and June 5th. You can read middle-grade, young adult, graphic novels and adult titles. Many participants set their own personal goals. I am trying for at least twelve hours.

I do not yet have a set list of titles to read. Several possibilities include titles from my school's Literacy Closet.