Janet's Blog

Lucy My granddaughter, Lucy, is almost two years old. She is an outgoing little girl who warms up to other people quite easily. Unlike most of Meagan and Andy's other kids, she actually enjoys staying in the church nursery while her Mom and Dad teach Sunday School. That is, she enjoys the nursery as long as her friend, Rose, is there, too. Rose is not quite four months older than Lucy. They have been sharing the nursery since they were both infants. Their relationship has not always been amicable. Lucy, as the youngest of six children, knows how to defend herself and protect her playthings from the other kids. It wasn't long before she taught Rose everything she knew about hitting and pushing to get her own way. So, when I was in the nursery with them, the offender had to sit on my lap for a brief time out until they both realized that there were better ways to get along. Now, both Lucy and Rose are speaking in sentences and using their words to express their wants and needs. B...

I was walking along the road bordering the Riverside lakes this morning, just enjoying the cool, overcast day, when I noticed a large swarm of insects directly over my head, near a large tree. I barely had time to consider what kind of bugs they were before they swooped lower, buzzing incessantly. I realized I had encountered an angry swarm of bees. I dashed to the other side of the road, but some of the bees followed, surrounding me, divebombing me, with one even perching on my finger before I shooed it off, hoping I wouldn't be stung. Fall is in the air. So are the bees. Just as I thought I'd escaped the swarm, I felt a prick on my left wrist, under the cuff of my jacket. I pulled the cuff back, and there it was: a plump bee of some kind--not a honey bee--was stinging me. After two or three attempts, I managed to brush it off. The stinger was still there, so I pulled it out immediately, thankful that my fingernails are currently a little longer than usual. Then, I quickened m...

The fall after Mom graduated from Bloomfield High School, she got her first teaching job at a one room school in Knox County. She taught there for two years in the early 1950s, marrying my dad in December of the second year, and joining him on his army base when the school year ended in May. When I was in Junior High, Mom started back to college to get her teaching degree, finally graduating while I was in college. As I was going through some of Mom and Dad’s old photos and documents recently, I found a couple of stories—the rough drafts, really—that Mom had written for one of her college classes. Now, as schools all across Nebraska are starting in the week to come, I think it is fitting for me to include the following story in my blog. So, here is Mom’s autobiographical story about a young, resourceful, one room school teacher who had to deal with a scary situation.  The young teacher struggled up the hill with the wastebaskets of trash, grumbling to herself. “It’s been a month no...