my senior year was sponsored by Pal's iced tea

This morning I heard this story on NPR:
http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=5510908


It was so bizarre; I could hardly believe it. In case you don't have time to listen, basically schools are starting to sell sponsorships for buildings, halls, rooms, etc. MLK High School will become McDonald's High. This activity is purportedly to relieve the tax payers' burden. I am appalled.

I remember that a few years back I heard a story on NPR that someone was developing a laser that could project ads onto the moon. As in, this evening's full moon is brought to you by the Nike Swoosh. I was outraged. I was ready to fly to Botswana or Bellorussia, or wherever I needed to protest. It turned out to be an NPR April Fool's Day hoax story.

Here we are just a few years later, and I think we might actually be moving in that direction. Can you believe that this is really happening? It's hard enough for children to appreciate the load of commercialism on their lives, but when we blur the lines of civic and commercial institutions this far, it makes me wonder what comes next...

And let's think for just a minute about the idea of relieving tax payer's burden. I submit that the reason why don't have tax money to pay for good schools is because the money that should go there is feeding these same corporations that now want to engrave their names on the back of desks (something that I got paddled for!)

The only situation where this insidious idea feels like it could be halfway okay would be a community like the one where I'm spending the summer. If a school received sponsorship where there simply are no tax dollars, or individual dollars, to be spared, then is it a viable solution? I'm still not sure.

Now on a totally different note, let us all grasp hands across the internet and dance in a circle while singing "Rain, rain, go away, come again another day...(or not!)"

the swimmin' hole

One of the first things that I did after arriving in Whitesburg was to purchase a season pass to the town pool. I figured out that, if I went nine times this summer, I would have earned my pass and every time after that would make it cheaper.

One reason I've enjoyed this activity so much is that it's fun to watch the kids interacting in their social groups. I've watched different kids who are always there (the pool makes a good babysitter, for sure), as they represent different phases of my life.

The two and three-year-olds, who are both excited and scared to death by the big, blue, cement pond.

The seven-year-olds, as they run fearlessly off the diving board over and over again, so slight that they hardly make the board bend when they pounce on it or make a splash when they enter the water.

The twelve-year-olds who are starting to notice boys but are still very into handstands and how long you can hold your breath.

The teenagers who have lost interest in swimming for the most part, except when being thrown into the pool by their boy-crushes.

I sat half in the shade, half trying to tan my helpless legs one Saturday, and watched a group of teenage boys, five or six of them who, no kidding, all had on the exact same swim trunks in a rainbow of different colors. I could almost imagine them going shopping together and arguing..."No way, man, you know I'm always orange!" I guess guys don't really act that way, huh?

Anyway, yesterday, when I came back to the pool after my long thunderboomer/god-fearing absence, I was putting my stuff down in a corner and preparing for my swim. I'm currently putting Silly Putty in my ears every time I swim, like I did when I was three. Just before I got to the Silly Putty, though I realized, with my back turned to the pool, that the two girls nearest me were talking about me...

"You see that woman in the navy polka dot swimsuit?"
"Yeah."
"She comes here every day to get her workout."
"Really?"
"Yeah, she swims back and forth around the kids and when she's ready to cool down she jogs in the pool like this..."

I didn't turn around to see the action.; I just plugged up my ears and went on with my business. Later, I realized they were actually trying to imitate my "work out" at the other end.

And the whole time, I was thinking to myself...When did I become this person? I can so vividly remember, as if it were yesterday, spending six hours on a Sunday in a friend's pool as we carefully constructed an extravagant synchronized swimming/water ballet performance to "She's Like the Wind" by Patrick Swayze.

And now, I'm the older woman that some little girl is trying to imitate?

Life is too bizarre.

the trail of tears

As you know, I became afraid to talk about stuff at work in this context after that article about the intern who got fired for blogging. I just can't help myself this time. This is me *extending arms wide out* throwing caution to the wind.

Over the last week I have seen a lot of personally, professionally, politically passionate people come under attack basically for exercising their rights as American citizens.

It all started last Tuesday when we discovered that a trail-paving project, which had been voted down, had started anyway in a surreptious fashion. Folks were understandably outraged. A few people I know were involved in discussion for peaceful ways to protest, and they, along with other citizens who don't work here, decided that they would have a picnic on the trail. You really can't get much milder than that.

Then this article was published yesterday with the lead line "Legislator defends paving trail: blames Appalshop - 'They are a bunch of old hippies, and they're the worst plague that's ever been in eastern Kentucky. I challenge them to tell me one positive thing they've done for us.'"
http://www.harlandaily.com/articles/2006/06/19/news/local_news/news9772.txt

Thankfully, as far as I can tell, most of the community and the media understand this to be an unfounded attack, as this is not an organizational action, but rather a few concerned citizens working on their own time and, in fact, through a different group:
http://www.wkyt.com/Global/story.asp?s=5050583

I am amazed and astounded by this situation on so many levels. First and foremost, as I've only been living in Kentucky for less than a month, it's very hard for me to understand and appreciate the various levels of personal relationships, politics, and history that would have led up to this point. I can tell you this though, old hippies or not (and trust me, I'll claim to be one in solidarity if not one in actuality), the people I work with here are the exact opposite of everything this politician has accused them of.

When he says that they strive to maintain stereotypes of Appalachia, in fact they empower, uplift, bring to light, and celebrate the truth of Appalachia, while mining the depths of its lies. When he says that they want to keep the region economically oppressed in order to seek funding, in fact, as I understand it, this man has done his best to cut Appalshop's funding.

(6/29) After a week of quiet, here's another editorial that just came out...http://www.courier-journal.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=2006606280489

There's something about this local situation that has echoes of familiarity in the national debate: the ability to turn on the cooker and the fan, pour in the fine grains of truth's opposite, and spin them out into long, sugary threads that are gathered, and repackaged into cotton candy--something that looks fun, but is really quite bad for you.

So, stand with me, friends, let your glass eye roll to the back of your head while shaking your fists, and yell out across the mountains..."Constant vigilance!"

what the hail?

I actually wrote this post on Mon., but the darn thing flipped out on me. I lost what I had written, and it took me this long to get up the energy to re-write. I hope I can remember most of it...

I went home this weekend and got the opportunity to fellowship with much extended family. We ate a huge feast on Sunday, which precipitated in me returning to Kentucky with armloads of little tupperware dishes full of leftovers. I haven't cooked a meal yet this week!

This trip was facilitated by the fact that my new roommate, B., was going to a town near my parents for a wedding, so I was able to hitch a ride for half a tank of gas.

On our way back Sunday p.m., B. and I were enjoying a lovely ride, quietly singing along to Gillian Welch and the Indigo Girls.

As we topped a hill in Kingsport, a giant, dark, ominous stormcloud was hovering over the mountains of Virginia into which we were about to drive.

By the time we reached Big Stone Gap, we had to pull over to the side of the road because pea-sized hail was pelting the car and covering the road. The temperature dropped from 80 to 56 in just a few minutes.

I have never been a big fan of the thunder-boomers. When I was 11, my music teacher's husband was killed on a golf course with 3 other men. Seems a tree is not the place to seek shelter in a thunderstorm. Especially if you're wearing metal cleats.

After that, I became obsessed with the seeming randomness of lightning. Or perhaps the lack of randomness. It makes the little hairs on the back of my neck stand up with the feeling that my kharma is going to make me a likely candidate for the next strike.

But what I really wanted to say was...Does anyone else think that storms have become more violent in the past few years? I can only remember a few times in my childhood when it hailed. Now it seems I hear about hail at my parents' house every other week.

Is it global warming? Or am I just paying closer attention to the weather report than I used to?

acupacupacupacupacup

Today marks my fifth day without coffee.

For those of you who know me very well, especially in my daily living habits, you know that this is quite an accomplishment for me. I'm having one cup of tea per day, so I'm not weaned off the caffeine-bean-related beverages entirely. Yet.

The big test came yesterday morning. I awoke to the smell of brewing coffee. Hazelnut no less. I walked into the kitchen to the site of my roommate pouring a cup for herself and she had the urn perched over a second cup.

"Good morning. Want a cup?"

How could I have forgotten to tell her of this Herculean feat I was pursuing with such vigor? I stood there, trembling in the doorframe.

"Um, no thanks. I'm off coffee. For now." (Leaving myself a bit of an open door there.) "I think I'll just hop in the shower while you're having breakfast."

I stood in the shower for a long time and thought about the self-control mechanism. I have never had a very strong one. Perhaps this is the beginning of a new era for me.

Today, I sat in a six-hour long executive board meeting where everyone around me seemed to be drinking a gallon of coffee a piece. And still, I resisted. Even though the smell seemed to be actually clinging to my nose hairs and even though it was only 60 degrees in the room.

I'm going home on Friday in the rain again. And all the way home I'll be singing, "I like coffee/I like tea/I like the Java Jive/And it loves me..."