The Eye of the Tiger

 

Halloween was over, the chocolate candy consumed, and empty wrappers told the tale.

Only the good stuff was eaten, leaving Tootsie pops, generic copies and Jolly Rogers in candy collecting containers. The order had been given to toss the losers away.

 

 

The challenge began when ten-year old Lily handed me a Cherry Lollipop, and kept the grape for herself.  “How many licks will it take to get to the chocolate center?”

We both looked at the candy on a stick, judged how small the round candy was, and made predictions.  Me: 75, Lily: 50.  How long would this competition take?  Me: 30 minutes, Lily (bravado of a 10 year old): 20 minutes, for sure.

Ready, steady, GO!

20 minutes in, I had done 120 (cherry). And Lily was up to 100.

25 minutes in, I was up to 200, and Lily was leading with 220.

30 minutes in, I had moved to 308, and Lily was all purple smiles at 315.

As the minutes piled up, my jaws cramped, the type of cramp one gets after eating a bag of Sweet Tarts.

We struggled with sore tongues.  “You’re going down, Grandma…”

600 to 582---653 to 690…would it ever end?

The end slipped in at 45 rough minutes.  Me: 915 and Lily: 998.

Lily danced around the kitchen, hands in the air, singing “Eye of the Tiger”.  Me?  I went to look into a mirror.  Sticking out my cherry red tongue, sweet and sour zones in the tongues had worked themselves raw.

Rule of tongue: eat all the chocolate stuff and dump the rest.  The Tootsie Pops are not a single lick, a couple of crunches, maybe.

The parameters of this game were vague.  I gathered that the more licks it took to get to the chocolate center was the winner.  It shows self control.  Whatever.  It is in poor taste to beat a grandchild who sings "Eye of the Tiger" and knows the words.

 

Office referrals aside, Tootsie pops are not ideal for classroom consumption.

 

Colors of the Rainbow...part 1

Source

‘A new student today…a blind teenager...William, oh the fun we will share!’ Caroline tied her apron, checking the full pockets.

William walked toward her, his white cane sweeping across the sidewalk and she joyfully called to him, “William!”  He swung toward her.

“Miss Caroline?”  William hesitated as Caroline gently laid her hand upon his arm, squeezing lightly.  “I’m…William.  Your new student… here to learn…colors,” he stammered.

William felt warmth and acceptance as she led him to the lawn where they both knelt.  Caroline took his hand, guiding across the grass.  “This is green.  Green is new life—in grass, in leaves, in foods both tart and sweet.”

Source

Tearing some grass, she crushed them between her fingers, then touching his face.  “I want you to smell grass….really deep breaths.  This is green, green grass.” 

William inhaled and smiled at the unique scent.  Then Caroline directed him to taste the grass, chew the grass.  The bitterness hit his tongue immediately and he spat it out.  “Not all greens taste so awful.  Here, try this kiwi.”  She placed the peeled pieces upon his palm.

He smiled at the delight of tart and sweet, soft and chewy.  “Now this I like!” 

Caroline helped William stand and head to the sidewalk. “That’s all for today.  Here is a list in Braille of items for you and your parents to taste, feel, and smell.  And this CD has as the first track. .  Explore them all.”  She noticed William’s mother walking down the walk and calling him.  “Tomorrow…we will discover…BLUE.”

William turned in the direction of his mother’s voice, but he paused.  “No one has ever done this…”

As Caroline turned toward her room, she was yellow and orange as she relived William’s words.  

Delores @ Under the Porch Light  hosts "Wednesday Words", providing a list of six words and/or a sentence prompt, and/or an assignment.  This week I have chosen to do the assignment:  Describing a rainbow to a blind person.  Part 2 (final) will be posted tomorrow, Friday, March 7th.  You absolutely MUST go to her site (by clicking the delightful stream on the side-bar)and read other participants' writing.  Go there!  Right now!

Samuel and the Test...Part 3

For those who do not about part 1 and 2, here are the links:
Samuel, part 1  and Samuel, part 2

Source: Great projects for kids

Nana smiled as she looked in the rear view mirror.  A multi-colored Samuel was asleep in his car seat.

When complete silence had been all that was heard, Dr. Anna and Nana had nodded and the observers approached the room where three-and-a-half year old Samuel had been so busy, laughing, giggling, and creating.

Nana opened the door slowly, entering a transformed room.  In the middle of the room beneath the table, Samuel had curled up to sleep, holding pristine shoes in his arms.

But, the room, oh the room. 

The floor was a swirl of color that curled around the room, around and around. 

How did he…must have used his feet to scoot…No, it’s smoother than…What the… He used the cardboard…Slip n’ Slide!  My son loves that…

Source: Dreamstime

In the corner were the discarded and used up materials.  Gallons of white glue had been liberally streamed around the floor, followed by squirt bottles of expensive acrylic paint.  

Torn box lids lay around the room, showing that Samuel had surfed, scooted, slid, twirled around the room many times.  A trail of all colors remained behind him as he laughed gleefully.  

Then Dr. Anna pointed to the walls where colors poured down the wall with little boy hand prints creating waves upon waves. Oh, the hues in those waves.

Not Samuel's work, but check at this source.

Nana tiptoed around the paint to the wall beneath the observation mirror.  Discarded markers lay in pyramid heaps.  Her heart caught in her throat and tears glistened in her eyes.

Changing of the Seasons

Overlooking the Mississippi River.  Illinois on the left, Missouri on the right.

On a bright October afternoon, my brother Don took us on a drive along country roads that Mom had traveled many times over her 82 years.  The sky was glorious, one of those brilliant skies that changes tones of blue throughout the day.  The leaves had begun the magic that seeped from green to red and gold. 

...right there!

Everything held the sense of being so temporary.  The leaves and all their beauty would be a sodden mound of brown mulch in a few weeks.   

The sky would be filled with winter clouds.  And my mother—what would she be in weeks’ or months’ time?  That was an unsaid question that floated over us along this drive along country roads and past harvested fields.

“I used to wade in the stream right there!” Mom exclaimed as we pulled off the road and down to the gravel stream bed.  Don and I ambled over to the water, talking in low tones about Mom, while she stayed in the car.  Don picked up a stone and skimmed it along a shadowy deep drop in the stream. 

“No, not there!  Further down…” Mom called out.  As fragile as she was and no matter how much each breath cost her, Mom would tell us the right way to go.

...you used to play there, Susie....

Later, we drove by a faded ancient house, one that leaned whichever way the wind was blowing.  The whole house gave the illusion that it was held up by the fact that the window frames were still square, and the front door was shut.  Other than that, the poor place was a lost cause.  

 “Oh, you used to play there, Susie,” Mom sighed.  Her hand pointed out the window.  “Over there Anna had a picnic table and we used to watch you kids while we…”  

 I looked at the hand with its transparent paper-thin skin, bulging blue veins, and bones.  So gnarled and painful now, those hands had held mine all my life.

After driving along back roads I never knew existed and hearing about the people who once farmed that field, people who lived in a house now a heap of rubble, we took Mom back to her home. 

Country road, goes on forever

While she napped in her recliner, I looked out her kitchen window, seeing some rain clouds moving in from the west.  The color of the air itself had transformed to gray.  I took a photo of a tree outside the kitchen window. 

“I wonder how many more times I will look out this window?”

The clouds moved in, the rain was almost weeping, and my mother slept for the rest of the afternoon.  I stood at the window, watching the leaves fall, and listening to the sound of the clock ticking on the piano.


P.S.  This was posted a year or so ago.  my daughter is having surgery and I will be busy. Ithought this deserved a re-visit.  Susan Kane

The Leaf

I was a bud when I heard a baby’s first word.  Her mother was below me, pushing the stroller.  “Bah!”  It was a great word. 

I was almost leafed out when the boy on a red bike slid into my tree.  He scraped his arm and knee; he ran inside crying.  The red bike lay below me for a while.  I don’t know its thoughts, but I am certain it hurt much more than the boy.

In bright summer, I danced in the warm breezes.  The young lady with yellow hair strolled beneath me with the young man in military uniform.  They leaned against my tree, whispering promises, planning the future, and kissing lightly.

As the air cooled at night, I felt my color seeping back into the tree.  I tried to stop it, but it didn’t hear me.  My edges became golden, and along my spine, burgundy red appeared. 

The boy on the red bike rode under me to start school.  I watched the baby taking her first steps; she stopped to pat my tree.  The young lady with yellow hair ambled along while reading a letter; she was laughing and crying, then laughing.

Daytime changed from cool to cold, and I let go of my tree, falling to the ground with the other leaves.  Next year, another leaf will watch for my friends.   Will it love them as much as I?