My Take
DiVoran Lites
I have my great grandfather’s fifth grade reading book called, Appleton’s Fifth Reader (1880). In vocabulary it resembles a nowadays college literature book. It favors the Bible as a guide for life and explains its meanings and origins: Translation of the Twenty-Third Psalm: “The Lord my pasture shall prepare…
” It has numbered instructions as to how to live a spiritually, emotionally, and physically satisfying life in tune with your fellow human. I found this one particularly poignant: “Read no letters, books, or papers in company: but when there is a necessity for doing it, you must ask leave (permission).
” Poems such as, “Hymn to the Night,” by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow make up a large percentage of the Fifth Reader’s pages. “I heard the trailing garments of the night trail through her halls…”
As I page through I find many things I would not have been able to understand in the fifth grade. I doubt whether there are many fifth graders today who would understand either, but surely…if someone taught us?
Kid’s are smart. They can learn and they are capable of deep thinking. I met a second generation Egyptian girl who is eleven years old, and who speaks English, French, Chinese, and Arabic. I can attest that her English is flawless. I don’t know about the others I can’t speak any of those languages. And the nice thing about her was that she was kind, cooperative, respectful and interested. She gently taught the younger children how to jump rope.
The two children across the street are home schooled, and boy are they happy, sweet, and respectful…fun too. Every Monday their mom drives them half an hour to Classic Conversations where their curriculum for the week is laid out for her and they are schooled as well. This brother and sister study and memorize the Bible, they learn about morals, and they learn about America.
Essie, the “about to be ten” child is in her second year of Latin. She says it’s easier than it was last year. She and her brother spoke of their History timeline in song. I asked if they would sing it for me, but they said it was thirteen minutes long. I asked for a sample and heard words such as Mesopotamia and Nicene.
So maybe given the vocabulary, they could understand the Appleton’s Fifth Reader from 1880. Maybe the second-generation Egyptian girl could too. Really why think there’s anything today’s children can’t learn? Maybe it’s a matter of parents who know what they want for their children going out and getting it.
Are we still a do-it-yourself country or is that all in the past? Try Googling, why home school? You’ll get a lovely surprise. Your kids don’t have to be under educated or follow the wrong kind of peer pressure. I know a lot of home schoolers who are all grown up now. I’d like for you to meet them. They are the good future for our country. If attitude is all important, then they’ve got the most important thing in the world, a great attitude. If you decide to home school, you can get all the support you need to give your once in a lifetime kids what you want most for them to have. Go for it!
a neat old house that I loved. It had a sunken living room – with an even more sunken fireplace. It had what is known as “cove” ceilings – where the wall joins the ceiling in a smooth curve – no sharp angles. Makes for a really nice effect.
Antonio, she owned and operated a small diner in downtown San Antonio, called The White House Lunch. She had a cook, but I know that Granny made the pies – I still have some of her recipes. They were so good that people would come in just for a slice of pie – or to purchase the entire pie to take home!
as the place to go for some of the “best beef stew what am.” While working the diner, Jessie met an Army Nurse, stationed at Fort Sam Houston, and they became very close friends. This nurse would work the counter at the diner in her off-times. This same nurse was stationed in Korea and was the one who brought a pearl ring back for me. They remained life-long friends.
Two of the chests are what we would call “foot locker” size, and the larger one is “steamer trunk” size. All are ornately hand-carved with Chinese scenes on them. And the inside wood is camphor wood, which is deliciously aromatic, and guaranteed to keep critters away from woolens and other fabrics.
Last Sunday one of our hymns was What a friend. Out of curiosity (I have a lot of that) I looked to see when this beautiful poem was written and who was the author. Fortunately our church uses an older hymnal which has the information at the bottom of the song. What a Friend was written in 1855 by Joseph Scriven. Apparently the longing for friendship and comfort is not new to mankind. The song has three stanzas and I would love to share them with you. I am taking the words from a Broadman Hymnal that was used in my church when I was a very young child. It is so old there is no copyright/publication page.
on a 2-lane road out in the middle of nowhere. I had not studied the map too closely, but thought I remembered that all I had to do was to stay on U.S. 84 (4-lane road) until I picked up I-40 at Santa Rosa, NM. In reality, U.S. 60 had split off from U.S. 84 at Fort. Sumner, NM and I didn’t realize I had missed the turn. I had traveled several miles without seeing a road sign of any kind, and began to worry about my being stranded on this lonely road that looked like it never ended.
childhood friend, Leon, who still lives in the same house he did when we were growing up together in the mid-1940s. We had a great time recalling our younger days and he introduced me to his cat, Rusty, and gave me a tour of his model circus railroad project. Later he went with me to the National Nuclear Museum and the Ernie Pyle Library. We experienced one of New Mexico’s dust storms late that afternoon, and I remembered how the wind could almost knock you over, and the wind driven sand could blast the paint off the front of your car and pit your windshield, if you were foolish enough to drive into one of those storms. And, there was no way you could get your house windows closed tight enough to keep that fine sand from filtering into the house, and getting all over things.
motels I used to throw papers to were still in business, and the Highland Theater where DiVoran worked selling tickets was still there. Leon told me he was a ticket taker and usher at the Highland Theater about the same time that DiVoran was working there, but he didn’t remember ever meeting her there. The Ice Arena had been turned into part of a shopping center, and Highland High School, where DiVoran and I met, all those many years ago, was now three times as big as it was when we attended. Further down Central, our football rivals, Albuquerque High School had been closed and converted into condos (of all things), while the First Baptist Church, which my folks and I attended all the years we lived there, had moved and their buildings were now empty and up for sale. What a shock that was!
Old Things R New 