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A faint coat of dust blanketed the top of my grandmother’s front porch, throughout my childhood. The dust on the front porch, was the central conflict in a war between my grandmother and dust. The front porch became my families stomping ground for several generations, our place where we could visit my grandmother and each other, especially on holidays. My grandmother complained of the dust on the front porch every time we there, using the occasion to draft her family in her dust battles. Her complaining did result in our desire to please her, so she racked up on invitations to mop the front porch every time we visited. Mopping the porch floor was a chore all of us were capable of accomplishing, by the time we could hold a mop.

Since my grandparents bought the house when my mother was ten, the front porch endured three generations of temper tantrums, holiday fights, and beatings by whatever new toy that appeared on the market every Christmas. I wonder how many toy trucks made their way from one side of the porch to the other.

My siblings and I spent a good deal of time on the front porch, or in the yard playing, until we were old enough to graduate to the house. With the exception of a holiday, bad weather, or illness we were not in the house much, a practice I understood with more clarity when I became a grown-up. Of course, we went in the house to eat, and in the evening, however we spent most of our time playing outdoors.

Playing inside was a privilege for many reasons, my favorite being the sound of the front porch door when anyone walked through it. We perfected the ability to recognize the mood of a grown up by the sound of the front porch door when they crossed over the threshold.

If you were inside the house, the sound of the door defined what was going on outside, by the manner in which the door swung on the hinges. For example, if the door swung back quickly followed by silence, you knew someone was in a bad mood. Happiness on the other hand, meant silence, since it meant someone was standing in the doorway talking to someone else on the front porch. I spent much of my young life listening to the sound of a voice shouting, “Close the screen door!” and much of my adult life will be spend enjoying the memory of it.

It will join the phrase, “You are letting in mosquitoes! Alternatively, another favorite expression, “You’re letting the air out the door” letting the air out? I know, I know, I know what it means when referring to a front door, but a porch screen door? The air on the porch is the same air is not it?

One of the best examples, of how you know the mood of a person, by the way they walk through a front porch door, is that of one Christmas when my grandmother invited a guest for dinner. This visitor had been a quest the previous year, where upon she brought an awful tasting plum pudding, the pudding tasted so awful, we took turns excusing ourselves from the table, in order to spit the ingredients out in the bathroom sink. The worse part of this story, is the fact that my grandmother's friend volunteered her fabulous plum pudding again the following year!



And this year, my grandmother insisted, we would not repeat the same rude behavior from her table on Christmas Eve. Consequently, I spent precious library hours searching for the appropriate etiquette one should display when eating distasteful food, or food one cannot stand! It is now comical that my grandmother actually expected us to eat something we found so awful. Moreover, did her friend not realize that the pudding tasted terrible, or did she just enjoy torturing small children and others at Christmastime? I will for the life of me, never understand why she brought this plum pudding a second time, I guess it is just another pudding in the sky mystery!

Anyway, I knew this guest was angry when she arrived that Christmas, because the front porch door snapped back quickly, when she marched through it, her hands full of plum pudding. I was young, so all I remember is the giggling and quick trips to the bathroom, with the exception of the look on my grandmother’s face, when she herself took a bite of her friend’s dessert.

Toward the close of the evening, our guest left in a polite manner, graciously thanking my grandmother, and telling us Merry Christmas. However, her true feelings about the evening were expressed by way of the front porch door. My grandmother's guest took what was left of her pudding, politely smiled, and said, “ Ya’ll do have a Merry Christmas” whereupon she exited out of a slamming front porch door!


The moral of this post is, if you have a front porch door, you will always know the true feelings of your guests, and family members who pass through your front door and into your life. If you don't have a front porch door, it will be harder to tell, however, I suppose any front door can possess these qualities, pay close attention to yours and see if you can tell.

The contents of my purse::


1) Hairbrush I have not seen in quite some time (Purple one)

2) A piece of crumbled up notebook paper with notes on it… has the following written on the top:
(Do not ask me what this means)
Total seven paragraphs that do not waste a word



3) Receipt from Albertson’s (A grocery store)

Let‘s see, I bought… oh, I rented a movie!

It’s The last king of Scotland, (It was good but left you with a weird feeling)

4) Three tubes of lipstick that were the wrong color


5) A sample of Body Fragrances spray, Oh you are not going to believe the fragrance Cucumber Melon Daisy! Hmm smells good)


6) St. Joseph Baby Aspirin, Old people have to take one a day for circulation and stuff like that. .

7) Old mascara, I do not know why

8) Reese’s Peanut butter wrapper

(9 Barnes and Noble receipt for… 2007 Children’s Writer’s & Illustrator’s Market

Sneedy was spooky with fiery red eyes and as Billy looked he doubled in size.

It looked like a mean grouchy 'ole brute, with jagged big teeth and a crooked

green snoot. He tried to breath fire, but it was only hot air, and the look on his

face made you too scared to stare.

His hair was orange and covered in soot, but you cannot judge a dragon

because of a look. Although Billy was scared, he watched Sneedy's face and

he looked like a dragon who felt out of place. Maybe Sneedy thought

he was supposed to be mean, since sometimes things are different from what they

seem.





The above excerpt is from one of my children's picture book manuscripts, Billy Board and the Reading Glasses. Billy, the protagonist, helps resolve a conflict between an entire kingdom and its adversary Sneedy, a dragon. It is a small way of helping kids understand that people and situations can appear to be different on the outside than they are in reality. Children's book characters are an effective way of teaching children about empathy, since they tell the story through the eyes of the characters. For example, Billy thinks for himself and puts himself in Sneedy's place by viewing his situation from the dragon’s point of view.

Children join their peers in judging or ridiculing other children, because they want to feel accepted. This encourages the cowardly act of bullying so prevalent in childhood today. If it is part of human nature to harass the weaker members of a community, then isn't it also possible that it is part of human nature to feel compassion?

Children’s need for acceptance encourages them to take part in whatever is popular rather than take the chance of being outcasts. When kids are taught how to feel empathy they are more likely to think for themselves than follow the crowd, since they are able to see things from another person's perspective. Nothing colors a persons view of a situation better than viewing themselves experiencing the same occurrence. It takes character to stand your own ground and listen to your own voice.

Sneedy’s appearance has little do with his heart or character however he is judged by his community for his outside persona. The ridiculed dragon is labeled evil before he has had an opportunity to earn the title.

As a result, Sneedy acts and reacts in the way the people in the kingdom expect him too, since he assumes the title of evil rather than accept the feelings associated with rejection, or worse yet no recognition at all.

Since children emulate their parents we need to act in the manner we wish them to act, respond to others the way we wish them to respond and so forth. By teaching empathy, we are teaching tolerance and disregarding the notion that to be accepted we must duplicate a certain popular attitude. If we teach kids how to develop and listen to their own voice, especially when it comes to the welfare of others, their generation is more likely to discourage indifference toward people who are different or less fortunate, thereby removing the opportunity for more misery and heartache. The most important thing we can teach kids is how to think their own thoughts and provide their own answers based on the values their parents taught them, and not the opinions or viewpoints of other more popular points of view.

Children’s writers, parents, aunts, uncles, teachers, everyone concerned with the welfare of children should do their part in teaching them how to empathize with others and when they do, show them how much you admire that quality.

My grandfather once said that when a man/woman treats a beggar with the same respect he would regard a king or queen it is the mark of true character.


Read Teaching Children Empathy Through Benevolent Selfishness an article from by Dr. Elisa Medhus, on MyParentime.com
about teaching child/children empathy.

Behind the words of these writers are the voices of children speaking to a parent. I have a passage in my sidebar, “Children govern the heart of a parent regardless of years,” well it seems you can turn that passage around,“Parents govern the heart of a child regardless of years” and still do it justice.

Yesterday, I received valuable insight from these writers, which is that our parents do not leave when they die. They are forever tapping us on the shoulder comforting, lecturing, and tenderly reminding us they care.

My first comment was from Sandee at Comedy Plus, and it is so beautiful that my eyes literary filled with tears as I read it:



Okay, I play along.

My mother’s best quality was her warmth. There were no strangers for her. She would talk to anyone and with all the warmth, they were talking right back. She just never met a stranger. Her worst quality, her sadness from time to time. It was her dark side. I miss her very much.

Father best quality was his ambition. Nothing would/could stop him. I thought he was larger than life most of my life. He was a great provider because of this ambition. His worst quality...His temper. He had a bad one too. I miss him too.
July 31, 2007 10:21 A

And Jos at NoDirectOn(not:NoDirection) who writes the most mesmerizing passage:

Okay, I play along, too.

This time, that's easy. For my mother, just copy what you wrote about your mom. This is NOT a lame excuse, it's true!

My fathers' best quality was his never-ending desire to learn about new things, combined with a terrific memory. He really 'wanted to know', anything would interest him. All for just one reason: he liked to share it with anyone he met.
His worst quality: for an extremely nice and outgoing personality he was ever so 'closed': he would or could never express his feelings.

I always tell my own kids that when parents die, they are not 'gone', they continue to live on in their childrens' hearts. They do.

July 31, 2007 1:58 PM
Delete


And last but certainly not least Mr. Fong at EatYouMaths


Hello here i am,finally.Love the blog.
My mum: Her ability to see the motives behind every act.She can see how an innocuous act is actually one with intention behind it-----but it makes her cynical.

My dad is his warmth! NO dark sides :)

Love the concept of ur blog.Hope u can go Eatyourmaths to give comments and suggestions on how to improve! I want to learn from You!

Thanks and Best wishes1

August 1, 2007 2:17 A




Thank you all for being such great sports and taking part in A Nice Place In The Sun's Tuesday question!

I have been looking for ways to connect with my readers in comments, so I decided to post a question each Tuesday for you to answer It is an idea I heard on ABC's “The View” about conversational ideas for parties. They suggested writing a question for your guests at the beginning of your party, then have them answer the question with your other guests. Isn’t that a great idea? In addition, something I never thought of before when hosting my social gatherings. However, the next social gathering I plan I will be sure to inform my staff! Until then, since I probably won't have a social gathering anytime soon, I've decided to ask the people I spend the most time with each day, you my readers and friends.

Every Tuesday, I said that didn't I? Well, every Tuesday I will ask you my readers a question to answer in comments. Then, I will post the best answers the next day in a post, and link it back to the blog or web site with the best answers! For my readers who don't have blogs I will post your answers as well and right a post on why I think it is the best answer.


Sound good? Any questions just ask me in the comments to this post!



The first question and this Tuesday's question is:

What do you think is your parent’s best and worst quality?

I’ll start:

My mother: best and worst quality: Her ability to see many sides of things. I have inherited this wondrous gene and where it is a good one, it makes it seem as if you're making excuses for people when they ask your advice for example, "He might not have meant "that" he probably meant "this" when posed a question about a boyfriend or friend. At the same time if you’re confused about something, it can be helpful since it gives you the ability to weigh all your options. Actually, I guess it does come from having great empathy for people! So I guess I am glad I am her child after all.

Thanks Mom!

I feel the same way about my father, I mean he shares a best and worst quality too! He has an ability to keep the shortest telephone conversation of anyone I know.
Sometimes this is good if I'm busy and I just want to know how he is doing, but on the other hand I sometimes would like to have a long conversation. In other words when I talk about poetry and stuff he always wants to keep the conversation short, and I 'm really not sure why, but he does. It is o.k. though, I love you, Dad!

Your turn…

Thanks to Jos from NoDirectOn(not:NoDirection) when you comment on A Nice Place In The Sun post it will follow your link! I saw where many blogs had a design that read "I follow" but I didn't know what it meant. However, thanks to Jos I now have the answer! I followed his directions from his post on how to install the "I follow" plugin or rather how to uninstall the nofollow link in my blogs template.

So follow this post and find out what I'm talking about! Since Jos does a much better job of explaining blog techo lingo than I!

Go to NoDirectOn(not:NoDirection)and Dummies Guide To Google Blogger for more information on the "I follow" plugin and Randa Clay Design for the "I follow" logo!

Thanks fellow blog friends from A Nice Place In The Sun and my other blog readers!

Many children's writers draw from their own personal childhood experiences in their books. This book is evidently about a special teacher who helps a young child overcome the obstacles facing children with learning disabilities. Children want to read about other children they can identify with, especially when a character shares the same painful experiences. In Thank you Mr. Falker, Patricia Polacco draws from her own painful childhood experiences with dyslexia. I haven't read the book, although I will post a book review this evening!

I'm also reading On Their Own, by Anne Ford, which I posted about earlier this month, and will have a discussion on August 8th. I would love to hear your comments about what you thought of the book, so get it before the book review and discussion. Here's the link to that post


On Their Own, is a personal account of Anne Fords experience rearing a child with ADHD. The book explores how parents with adult children with ADHD or learning disabilities can help them create independent lives.

Thank You Mr. Falker explores a child with dyslexia's discovery of books and how she overcomes her obstacles.

More on Thank You Mr. Falker, by Patricia Polacco in my book review this evening, in addition to what other popular book reviews have written about Thank You Mr. Falker. It ought to be a good one!

When you were a child who was your favorite grown-up? My favorite grown-up was my maternal grandmother. Yesterday, I went to her grave site and recalled two of my favorite memories of her. I have many memories of fun grown-ups, although for some reason she's the one who sticks in my mind the most. My other grandparents were great too, of course, but we lived down the street from her in a new neighborhood branched off from an older street or lane, called Moss Side Lane. The name Moss Side came from the moss that hung from the oak trees that shadowed the street.
With the exception of my parents, this grandmother had the most influence in my life. She taught me to wish upon a star, to garden, curtsy, talk to people, read…

We called her Nana, and she said things like, "DAT Burn it!" and "A stitch in time saves nine." She had a garden in a huge beautiful yard which she embraced with passion. Determined to enlighten us on the basics of gardening and yard work, she would bribe us for the opportunity to put us to work. The funny thing is, my brothers and I thought our work was actually worth the gratuity. In order to teach us something, she endured the arguments, temper tantrums, and excuses with the grace of a saint. However, this was a tolerance reserved only for her grandchildren. She wasn’t a tolerant woman or a saint, she was just a grandmother. Always on the side of her children and grand children, right or wrong, in addition to having a lesson to teach …

On one of our gardening opportunities, I was working my heart out when (I was singing to myself and playing with a rake) she called out to me, "Ann, come see." When I reached her, I saw she found a baby rabbit lying limp on the ground. The soil, recently tilled, had disturbed a nearby rabbit hole. Evidently, a baby rabbit ran out of his home, and the tractor ran him over. The little baby was in bad shape. Nana yelled across the rows of vegetables, "Honey, will you come help me with this?"

I can see that baby rabbit in my mind's eye as clear as if it were yesterday.
Then she said, "Go get the hoe! We are going to have to put it out of its misery"

It took me a moment to realize she didn't mean WE were going to have to put the rabbit out of its misery, she meant ME! It was clear there was no "we" to striking that rabbit to death with a garden hoe! There was only a "me" to do it! She handed me the rake, and looked at me as if to say how hard it was for her to teach life's cruelest lessons.

"Go ahead, it is the best thing to do for the rabbit, honey, we cannot let it suffer."

"Nana," I exclaimed, "I ‘m not going to chop it's head off, I'm sorry, but I can't.”

This protest held the promise of making her angry, however, a softness washed over her face, and she said, "Do you think your mother can bring it back to life. My mother had the skills and talent required of the best veterinarians.

Therefore, I dashed to get a box, (before she changed her mind) and brought the baby rabbit home for my mother to doctor. She did her best to save him by using an eyedropper for nourishment and water, but he died.

I brought him back to my grandmother and we buried him near the garden, where she told me the story of his relatives, and where they all lived under the ground. She said they were watching and were at the funeral. Later that evening, we sat on her back porch steps and she taught me how to wish upon a star. I watched her and listened to her talk, her voice in time with the crickets, and her black hair glistening as lightning bugs danced above her head. She had the best rhyme: “Wishes come true when you wish on a star/Since the man in the moon knows where you are/No matter how near no matter how far/He sees you and me and knows where we are.”

“Nana,” I asked. “Yes honey?" is what she said as she pulled me close.

“Where is the man in the moon?”

“Right there honey! Look!“

I felt her draw me in tight, hold me against her heart, then she pointed to the sky and said, “Look baby, right there!”


I wish I could ask her where she is and catch up on the questions I have, or have had, or questions I don’t remember.

What do you remember the most about your favorite grown-up?

While reading, Writers Reviews, I saw this button for the iReply Movement, created by Mike, From Ordinary Folk and his friends, Me And My Drum and Brown Thoughts These three blogs have, as quoted from Mike,

"put together a simple idea for a new movement in blogging."



When I saw this button, I thought, thank goodness for the will of good bloggers! Then I quickly remembered this quote from Mark Twain, along with a post I wrote after I was nominated for the Schmoozer Award. I decided to post both of them with a link back to Ordinary Folk, (tell me Mike if I make a mistake) and quickly put the button in my side bar...

“An author values a compliment even when it comes from a source of doubtful competency.” - Mark Twain in Eruption


“The writing profession is lonely; writers don’t enjoy the same sense of belonging as people who work in an office, or around others everyday. There is no water cooler where you can share your opinion of the latest world gossip; where you find out the latest scoop on a book, movie, celebrity, or politician. Blogs have become the internets little private water coolers.

By offering more than an avenue where web surfers can examine the world’s social, political, or cultural climate, they offer a platform for communication between writer and reader. The invention of the comments feature, well known by now, is changing the face of the internet, and the ways in which the entire world communicates. Since blogs have the comments feature, blog authors are quickly developing rewarding friendships, and gaining supportive colleagues in an otherwise lonely, and fast paced profession,

I love to write, although I’ve always missed the social connection you get from physically working with other people, first as a stay at home Mom, and now as a full time writer. I’m grateful for all of the bloggers, and readers who take the time to read my material, and make use of the comments feature.”

I meant those words I wrote in that post, and after writing it I thought, “What will happen when this post is lost in archives?” Will my readers remember how important their comments meant to me?

Well, thanks to Mike and his friends, now I can display how I feel with this button, and you can too! Learn how to join the iReply movement by clicking on the link to this post!

Support, Ordinary Folk, Brown Thoughts, and Me And My Drum, in

promoting the, iReply Movement, it's important to bloggers, readers, and the whole

Blogosphere that we do!


Water Cooler: