To re-cap, I teach a citizenship prep class on Mondays and Wednesdays. It is the favorite part of my week. For so many unexpected reasons.
Last night, Domenica, a beautiful young mother, lingered after class to discuss a fine point of English grammar. It just warms an old English teacher’s heart. She wanted to know whether it is proper to say, “this is she” or “this is her” when answering the phone. I told her — this is she — without bothering to preach a lesson about predicate nominatives. But I went on to explain that for most people this just sounds pretentious, so I choose to side-skirt the issue by saying, “This is Jean.” We practiced it a few times. She has it down. I think she already knew that “it is I” is correct, and what she really wanted to know is why native English speakers make this error. Me too. I mean, “and I also.”
Okay. The holy days are over as Eastertide continues into the Pentecost season. Whew! I spent a lot of time over at St. P.’s.
Cooking and washing up:
Decorating:
Okay. So Lauren Elizabeth did most of the heavy lifting:
Singing:
Okay. So other folks did most of the heavy lifting:
Dr. Klemme is looking with concern directly at me, I think.
It was all good. Music matters more to me than all the rest of the church stuff. My prayer is that at my end the only thing the deity remembers about me is the lifetime of hymns I have sung.
I was telling Roxanne just the other day, that I must have heard thousands of sermons in my lifetime and seriously cannot remember my life ever having been effected by a single one. But last night, driving up to fetch Barb at PDX, I was listening to a discussion on NPR. It was not a sermon, but I learned a valuable lesson: Do not be judgmental. Instead choose compassion. I want to be effected by that.
And in other news, I also listened to Rick Steves on my drive last night. He said something like, “If you travel right, you are a different person because of it.” I think that is true. When I remember any trip I took, I realize that I was changed by it. Deeply. I touched the great pyramid and sailed on the Nile. I hiked across a volcano with Elizabeth. I actually touched Stonehenge before they fenced it off. I stayed at the bottom of the Black Canyon of the Gunnison. I once took the desert route on a road trip to Texas. I kayaked the entire Willamette River. I snorkeled off the Turquoise Coast. I biked across Spain and into Portugal. I spent Holy Week in a tiny Andalusian village and a month in Florence. I drove to Mount Hood in a blizzard with Kate for Christmas dinner. I walked on the Oregon coast with Meg and our beloved dogs. I spent an entire morning sitting in front of my favorite painting in Venice.
On my most recent trip, a week in NYC, the most unexpected things on our itinerary changed me forever. As one ages, one is aware that traveling becomes more challenging. You have to pace yourself a bit, so you sit in a church for a while and listen to the angels sing and you are never the same again.
