The Trees

In Indianapolis, there's a Kile Oak that's 500 years old. Oldest tree in Indiana, but before you get in your car with your camera, it's my sad job to tell you that our old oak is closed to visitors because of alleged "safety concerns" after Hurricane Helene.

A basin bristle cone pine is our country's oldest tree. Coming up on its 5000th birthday, it lives in Inyo National Forest in California. Unfortunately I can't tell you more than that because its exact location is kept "secret." Evidently someone decided old tree lovers are shifty, untrustworthy sorts with evil in their hearts. 

The Big Oak pictured above behind 3 of our children is over 200 years old.  Our 200+ year old Big Oak is right there on Big Oak Trail near Lake Monroe.  No one bothers it a bit as far as I can tell.  

Elderly trees probably would enjoy some company.  I hope in 2025 we can lighten up and let the tree fans drop by for a chat and a photo. 

 Until then, don't forget that you can always come to Bloomington if you want to see a majestic tree that's super old. If you're really desperate for some aged flora,  drop by High Street if you want to see our 36 year old house plant that my parents gave us when we first moved to Indiana. It's pretty amazing. 

  

 

The Wrongs and the Songs

The UN Convention on the Rights of the Child lists about 40 unconditional rights that all children on the planet have. 

 I taught about this amazing international treaty several years ago.  At that time only 3 countries had not ratified the treaty:  Somalia, South Sudan and the US.  

Teaching the treaty now, in 2024, I discover that the US is the only country ON THE PLANET that will not ratify the UNCRC.

Really ticks me off.  Can we just ratify?  The treaty protects children from dangerous labor, cruel incarceration, and corporal punishment. Can we just ratify it please?  We look like idiots. 

There are the usual reasons why we won't ratify, but the big one is that Parental Rights groups and Republicans don't like the treaty.  Surprise Surprise. 

On a lighter note, I'm really getting in to this Cool Yule song.  Enjoy if you want to.

 

The Salmon

Hermit Crab in Captivity - Gig Harbor

 CARKEEK Park in Seattle is the site of a record breaking salmon run this year. In the past month, thousands of CHUM salmon have flailed up Piper's Creek to spawn and die.  

We ventured to CARKEEK over T-Day break to witness this incredible event. We saw salmon fighting to hurl their bodies further upstream in the rocky shallows.  We saw hundreds of salmon corpses rotting along the creek beds.  We smelled the putrid stench of death.  

I'm trying to focus on their inspiring life stories, but the trauma of watching the chum struggle to their deaths lingers, haunting my days and nights.  The smell wafts through my nasal cavities as if I never left Piper's Creek.

I wish the chum salmon could have a more peaceful end.  Could more water be added to the creek?  Something to think about for next year, Seattle. At the very least, prompt, respectful removal of chum carcasses should also be considered. 

I didn't get photos of the salmon run because of the trauma I experienced, but I'll never unsee the images from that apocalyptic visit.  Here's  a photo I found online.  Multiply this scene by one trillion and you'll come close to understanding the heroic end of the chum. 

The Hand Turkeys

 Our hand turkeys this year expressed our homage to favorite artists.  Here's the rundown.

Husbandman - Inspired by Starry Starry Night.  I loved this one.

30 Something turkified Wayne Thiebaud's beautiful paintings of pies and cakes. I loved this one too.

I took an easy road with the Matisse collage turkey. Pretty basic, but I still love it.

JL calls up the joys of painting of the indomitable Bob Ross.  Hilarious.  I love his little easel.

Neph knocked it out of the park with this homage to Jacob Lawrence.  I mean.  Wow.  Frame this one immediately. They're holding little turkeys. Love it so much.

Botticelli.  Birth of Venus.  So beautiful. Thanks, Eve for this amazing work of art.

K saw the reliquary containing John the Baptist's hand in the cathedral of Siena. I wish I could see that some day but for now, this turkey is the next best thing.  I love it.

Maurizio Catalana taped a banana to a wall.  The rest is history. What a fun hodgepodge of art deco with minimalist modern.  LOVE it!

Obviously we've done a great job with the hand turkeys once again. 

It's pretty amazing. 

The Giving of Thanks

 Just because the world's coming to an end doesn't mean we have to shut down this phenomenal blog.  I'm getting straightened out over here and stepping up with the blogging for my readers who have been with me through thick and thin lo these many decades. If you are reading these words at this moment in time, I thank you both heartily.  You're the reason I do this grueling work. 

Here's the latest with leeway:

Last Sunday I broke my toe.  I was walking down the stairs, carrying sundry objects, and I skipped that crucial last step.  Hard to understand how or why that happened, but it did. Lots of things are hard to understand right now and this is one of them. I just have to deal with it.

In the slippage I came down hard on all the toes on my left foot. Sprawled on the floor, screeching in agony, I feared the worst, but X-ray technology showed that I broke only my large toe, also called the great toe, or the hallux.  When Orthopedist Pal JR, disclosed that my hallux was cracked, I complained, "Rats. It's one of my favorite toes."

JR commiserated, "It's the one that goes to market."  

Truer words were never spoken.  

I have to wear the boot for one month which seems excessive for one toe, but the good news is I had a boot in the closet that I wore last time I damaged my left foot by breaking it in two different places when I fell in the backyard on my birthday after challenging Husbandman, "Race you to the car!"  

The boot is cumbersome, but I'm tough and I rarely complain about stuff like boots. Not thrilled to be wearing the boot on the 5 hour flight to Seattle tomorrow, but maybe I can take it off and leave it in the aisle when people aren't up and about. 

In conclusion, today I give thanks to readers, doctor friends, boots in closets, and vacations.  Soon we'll be making the hand turkeys of 2024.

The Misunderstanding

 My belief that everyone is "unshakeably good" has been tested severely this week. 

 It now occurs to me, plain as day, that some peeps are "shakeably good," and a whole big bunch of others are unshakeably bad. 

  This is a significant shift in my perspective about my fellow citizens.  

 I hoped beyond hope that "joy (would) cometh in the morning," but I woke up on Wednesday in a joyless place with much weeping and worry and it looks we'll all be living here for the foreseeable future. 

I'm developing a plan for a life of isolation and ignorance and I now present it to you in a bulleted list. 

•  I'm not going to read or listen to any source of NEWS.  Good riddance. 
• We will probably also move to France, where I can walk around in a blissful bubble while HM works,  unable to communicate with others, unable to understand what's happening around me. 
• Moving back with the BLUES people of California also appeals. 
• The plan includes near constant collage and notebook doodling. 

 That's all I have of the plan right now.  

The "Offerings"

Someone keeps putting ridiculous objects on my front porch Buddha. Useless coins and small bills appear no matter how many times I remove them.  

Today I threw away this inexplicable offering of a blue letter A birthday candle put there by someone clearly making a mockery of my Buddha in order to get on my last nerve. 

Not sure if it's the mail carrier doing the defacing, but I highly suspect it is because no one else comes to my house. I also suspect the college kids across the street.  I've called the police about their loud parties four times and I know they're not pleased about that. Well, too bad. Have some respect for your neighbors!  

I'm having a small sign made professionally to put in front of my Buddha.  It says:

Keep AWAY.  

 My Buddha neither needs, nor wants, your trash.  

He's doing just fine.  

Thank you.  

The sign arrives next week.  Let's hope it puts a stop to this nonsense. I'm at my wit's end.

The Field Trip

 We went to the History Center yesterday.  When we were leaving, our guide thanked me for helping her with her guided tours.  My help involved getting 3rdLanders to pay attention to our guide.  She told me I could take any artifact from the museum that I could carry out with me, so I took this doll.  

It was no contest.  This doll has been beaten down, but they're still here. Head held high. In your face attitude.  This doll is a role model to dolls and humans alike.  

The PeacePlayer #1

 I saw this gal across the street yesterday as I was noodling around our courthouse square after an outdoor dinner with SL.  

I asked if I could take a photo. We talked about peace for a bit. She and her friend set up around town with their violins and their sign.  She said, "It's a small thing we can do." They've been peace playing for a few years now. Come to find out, there's always more violence to play over. 

I heard her music from my car window on my way home. Well done. 

The Winner

 I'm afraid to write this, but I have a feeling that 3rdLand is calming down. Just maybe, we're slowly  starting to grok one another. 

Forget you ever read that.  I've probably jinxed it now.  Another bad decision on my part.  Why do I do these things?

Moving on quickly....

We went to our 200th Lotus Festival this weekend.  I bought the festival t-shirt that has a sea turtle on it.  I love sea turtles, but why a sea turtle? We may never know.  We saw musicians from India, Mali, Pakistan, Canada, Ukraine and Virginia. Usual drill. Some we loved more than others, but I'm not going to lie---the festival overall pleased us greatly yet again.

I know you've all been waiting, so here it is...

This year...the 2024 LeewayLotus Trophy goes to....USTAD NOOR BAKHSH and his amazing benju wizardry. 

Born into a shepherd family in Pakistan, Ustad became obsessed with the benju at age 7. He apprenticed with a benju master at 14 who had his same name, but was no relation.  After decades of playing around, doing his thing,  anthropologist Daniyal Ahmed searched him out and made some music videos.  These went viral.  Now Ahmed is Ustad's manager and Ustad plays all around the world. Ustad, age 79, now supports his extended family.  They recently added running water and a bathroom to their residence. California friends, maybe you caught Ustad at Hardly Strictly?

By the way, the official name for the benju is bulbul tarang, which means "waves of nightingales." The benju evolved from a Japanese instrument, probably brought around the world by Japanese sailors, called a Taishōgoto.  

    The Taishōgoto was developed in 1912 by the musician Gorō Morita in Nagoya. He came up with the idea of combining the mechanics of a typewriter with an instrument.  (wikipedia)  Well done Goro!

 In an attempt to avoid working on dreaded report cards, I've spent time reading about Ustad's home province of Balochistan this morning.  Balochistan, you might want to work on your literacy rate.  Not good. Just saying.

  I'm probably listening to Ustad's EP as you read this. You can learn more about Ustad here and listen to some of his music if you feel like it. 

Congratulations, Ustad, and don't be a stranger!   Your birdsongs are always welcome here.

The Shakers

 At one time, there were 6,000 Shakers in the U.S., but only 2 Shakers remain.  Brother Arnold and Sister June live in Maine.  They stay pretty busy with their farming, sheep shearing, lavender drying and song singing. They hope more Shakers will join them at Sabbathday Lake Shaker Village one of these days.  

The Shakers got their start in England, but Ann Lee (Mother Ann) and 8 other Shakers arrived in the colonies before the American Revolution.  Besides celibacy, they believe in pacifism, racial and gender equality, economic cooperation, dedication to the land, and the sanctity of labor.  Not crazy about the celibacy or crazy work ethic, but other than that, I'm mostly all in with Shaker principles.  

The westernmost Shaker village, called Busro, was in Southern Indiana.  Issachar Bates and a few other Shaker missionaries walked to the midwest recruiting Shakers along the way.  Bates, a poet, was known as "a merry singer of ballad tales."  

The Shakers lived in Busro, (later renamed West Union) from 1811 to 1827.  Revolutionary War veterans and free Black people were among their numbers. Like movers and shakers of today, they had their share of troubles in their new home. They were on Indian land, so the Shawnee weren't thrilled.  War of 1812 brought William Henry Harrison and his soldiers with their belligerence and violence.  Hoosier neighbors distrusted and persecuted the Shakers. There were earthquakes and tornadoes.  In 1827, the Shakers cleared out of Indiana.  

The Indiana Shaker site is now owned privately with only a historical marker to honor the hundreds of brave idealists that tried their best to bring Shakerism to the western United States. Kudos to the 2 Shakers and their outer family supporters who stay loyal at Sabbathday Lake Shaker Village.  If you're a teacher in Maine, don't forget that this is a great site for an interesting, fun field trip.

For everyone else, enjoy this snippet of Shaker song, featuring Frances McDormand.

 

The Clamor

 Last week brought heat advisories, indoor recesses and continued clamorous interruptions in 3rdLand. I care for neither excessive noise nor clamor, so shrewish virago is my current teacher identity.  Embodying shrewish virago is exhausting.  And you don't have to tell me it's poor pedagogy because I already know that.

I attempted to lighten up at afternoon meeting on Thursday and told a hilarious anecdote.  At the conclusion of my tale of comic brilliance, the 3rdLanders erupted into such a clamorous din of screaming and rolling around on the floor that my apple watch signaled excessive decibel levels in my immediate environment.  With prolonged exposure, I could suffer hearing loss.  

Geez Louise.  

I hope we can all settle into the supportive, thriving community we know from movies such as To Sir With Love, Good Morning Miss Dove, Dead Poets Society and School of Rock. I do see a few glimmers of hope.  At the very least they appreciate a well told tale. Also, we'll have cooler weather this week. 

ps:  If you want to check out Mitzker's travel blog, you should.  Her photos of the wildlife in South Africa are incredible. 

The Good Times

Back to 3rdLand.  As you have probably deduced, return to the classroom has put a cramp in my identity as a blogging writer and cheerful human being.  

Maybe things are turning the corner because here I am, getting the blog done.  Also, I remember smiling a few times when Husbandman and I went out for sushi this afternoon.

In this blog entry, let's focus on the good times.  

The best thing that's happening in my life right now is the Harris Walz campaign. I'm feeling all the joy and hope along with the rest of the good people of our country.  But FYI:  Please don't forget that I still love Joe Biden and I don't care what anyone says about him because he's a good man and an inspiring President whose only single mistake he ever made was getting old.  

The second best thing is my new apple watch, which I bought because my re-entry to teacherLand was kind of stressful.  This was a good move on my part.  I love it so.

The third best thing is the awesome lunch Husbandman makes for me each day.  At noon, after I drop the 3rdLanders off at HELL-SITE, aka the cafeteria, I enter my quiet classroom, dim the lights and shut the door.  I open my lunch box, and munch away happily on all four food groups as I try to make some progress on the Spelling Bee. It's pleasant as all get out and helps me reset for the afternoon.

The fourth best thing is a haiku that a kid wrote after our haiku hike.  The haiku hike was on this week's highlight reel.  Super fun.  Here's the haiku:

Daddy long legs

was walking until Dr. H.

stepped on him

 The kid was pretty angry when he shared his haiku with me. I had no idea I had killed the daddy longlegs and  I felt bad because each morning I re-commit to doing "no harm to any sentient being."  

Putting the past in the past, we soldier on. Maybe the worst is behind us.

The Last Stop: Crete

We're finishing up our summer trip in Crete, the largest of the 6,000 Greek islands.  We've taken it easy here, but we did traipse around 2 old cities.  Come to find out, everyone and their brother has wanted, and taken, a piece of Crete.  Romans, Byzantines, Andalusian Muslims, Venetians, Ottomans.  They've come and gone, but they've left their remnants and remembrances.  Fun Fact: Crete joined up with Greece under its own accord in 1913.

Venetian Port, Chania

Minaret - Rethymno Mosque

Nazi bombing of Crete 1941 - Rethymno

Today we drove out to see the Ancient Olive Tree of Vouves. This olive tree is between 3000 and 5000 years old.  It's probably safe to say that the tree is 4,000 years old.  It's a stunning tree, but it doesn't rest on its laurels.  It's still offering its olives to the Cretans. I love this tree a lot. I wish I could live inside it for the rest of my life.

In conclusion, Crete has history everywhere you look.  I could have learned more, but we mostly focused on water activities such as swimming or eating at seaside restaurants.  We've had a delightful time, but all good things must come to an end.  We leave tomorrow morning for a day of travel back to our Hoosier home where in a few short months, we'll elect our next president, Kamala Harris.  Let's go!!!!

Ta leme argotera, Crete.  See you next time!

                                                           

The Third Stop: Athens

Athens has been wonderful in some ways, challenging in others.  Let me explain. 

 We got caught up in the airline shutdown fiasco of '24, and did not arrive to our Athens hotel until 2:30 in the morning.  We had ferry tickets for the morning so we hardly slept that first night. We got to the ferry on time, but a British man named Nick sat next to us and talked non-stop. Lucky for me, Husbandman, with his superior conversational skills, dealt with Nick while I applied laser focus to my book.

We loved Hydra.  There are no cars allowed on Hydra.  Some people use donkeys.  We chose to walk.  We found a beautiful place for swimming and mocktails where we lounged for a good long while. We had no water shoes, so we had to walk across burning stones to the sea whenever we wanted to get back in the water.  Imagine a bed of hot coals.  After swimming, we headed to a delightful lunch spot on a shady terrace overlooking the port.  Greece gets high points for veggie friendly, tasty food items.  I love the food here.

The heat has been tough this week.  Not going to lie. I suspect I may have a serious heat intolerance condition.  Or I could just be pathetically out of shape. Not sure. Either way, the heat caused some changes in my typical tourism routines.

We did go to the Museum of Cycladic Art where we saw a terrific Cindy Sherman exhibit and learned about the artists who made these figurines.  From 2700 BC to about 2300 BC they were all made pretty much the same.  But then some wiseacres introduced variations. Moving one arm slightly akimbo for example.  I loved these figures and have nothing but appreciation for the ancient Creatives of the Cyclades.

We went to the Acropolis but the heat and the crowds were super unpleasant.  10 years ago, Husbandman and I came to Athens in February.  At that time I walked to the Acropolis twice in one week. No crowds at all.  Stray dogs lazing about.  A few small groups of tourists walking around chatting. Delightful.  But this time, my heat intolerance and social anxiety caused me to nearly have a cardiac arrest. That said, the Parthenon is crazy impressive.  It was built around 450 BC. You should go there if you feel like it.  Don't let my ridiculous heat intolerance stop you.

Husbandman has been working this week, grueling away at mathematics.  His colleague loaned us a cool, charming apartment near the city center.  Last night we walked out to this wonderful restaurant.  Another amazing meal.

We go to Crete tomorrow, the final stop of the journey.  

We've had our ups and downs, Athens, but I'm not mad at you. 

And we will return.  

But not in the summer. 

Antio kai efcharisto! 

The Second Stop: Seville

 

Seville is beautiful with a wild history.  We toured some mind blowing World Heritage Sites. I loved Real Alcazar and the Cathedral. Palace of Las Duenas is not a world heritage site, yet, but if you feel like it you should definitely go there. 

The heat has been a challenge, but Husbandman and I have figured out how to do the right amount of stuff each day so that neither of us gets heatstroke. Our hotel has a pool, so a late afternoon swim has been part of our routine.  

The food has been another challenge.  I'm a vegetarian who will eat a shrimp or an oyster if placed right in front of me.  Rarely, but yes, I do it.  (Please don't kick me out of the vegetarian club because of this. Cut me some slack why don't you?)  Seville serves a lot of fishy fish that I do not care for.  They mostly serve a ton of meat products.  They are big on meat here. Meat prepared every which way. 

  Croquettes are also frequently on the menu.  I loved the veggie croquettes we ate at Elsa and Fred, but, come to find out, most croquettes are meaty. Ever hopeful for the possibility of veggie croquettes, I asked a waiter at  Pasaje about them.  He replied haltingly,  "They are filled with.... how would you say it.... it does not sound good.... but it is good...they are filled with blood." 

Blood.  Seriously? 

Seville, we loved our time with you despite the food issues. You're super friendly and beautiful.

Adios and gracias! On to Athens.

The First Stop: Barcelona

 We've been staying in the Born area of Barcelona with narrow cobblestone streets and secret passages. Centuries old stone buildings and shady plazas.  

Have been noticing a lot of strolling happening around town.  Especially after a late dinner of tapas.  It's as if people didn't have a care in the world. 

I'd like to do more strolling of an evening when I get home, but I would prefer the Bloomington strolling to be more like Barcelona strolling where I'm with hundreds of others and I'm not walking alone down 1st Street on my way to Bryan Park like I'm the sheriff in a ghost town. 

Tangent:  Sagrada Familia didn't disappoint.  We loved the views from the top of the Passion Tower.  Good job, Gaudi.

In conclusion, we leave tomorrow morning for Seville.  I know comparison is the enemy of joy, but I fear that Seville won't be as good as Barcelona.  This place is super wonderful. Keep up the good work, Barcelona.  Well done!

The Non-Metropolitan Diary

Hoagy Carmichael lived here when he was a kid.  He wrote 100s of songs and 50 of them were big hits.    4 of Hoagy's songs are among the most recorded songs in history.  And yes, he was born right here in our town and is buried over in Rose Hill Cemetery. I walked by his house while taking my 5th history walk of the summer. 

On a meandering walk south of campus I came across this eye-catching mural which I believe is new.  I've never seen it before and I've walked next to my dentist's office a bunch of times.  I'm sure I would have noticed it. Bloomington is really upping their mural game.  Keep it up, B-town.  Way to support #publicART!

Wednesday Surprise:  Music at The Elm with John Raymond and Jeremy Allen 

As you can see from these photos, I've been traipsing around town doing my best and forgetting the rest. 

Mitzker and I were happy as all get out to see John Raymond and Jeremy Allen playing music at The Elm when we popped in for dinner on Wednesday evening.

I know of these two jazz cats because a). Jeremy Allen was #1 Son's spectacular bass professor at Jacobs School and b.) John Raymond, also a Jacobs School professor, played his tremendous trumpet with #1 Son at a Jazz Kitchen show last year. I also have a sweet connection to a younger member of the Raymond fam. 

On our way out after a delightful dinner, I stopped to take a photo of the players.  A couple nearby gestured me over to their table. "Ma'am, ma'am," the man whispered as I was walking by.  I leaned  toward them and he said, "The bass player is our son." 

I felt a chill, a zip and a zing.  Their pride was palpable and so was mine when I gushed back, "Well, YOUR son was MY son's teacher. We are very fond of YOUR son. He was so good to our son Quinn who is now... a bass player...in Asheville North Carolina!"  I ended my gushing with a flourish.  The mom clapped her hands.  The dad said, "That's great, that's great."  

Mitz and I said adieu and then I floated off to my car, happy about my membership in  the PPBB-- short for Proud Parents of Bloomington Bassists.  This serendipitous meetup made me think of the Metropolitan Diary pieces that NYT readers send in about their walks around town.  Then I remembered this blog and decided that writing about it here could work just fine.

FYI:  Jeremy Allen and John Raymond will be playing at the ELM on Wednesdays through July. You should see them if you feel like it.