"I'm fixing a hole where the rain gets in .."

Praise the Lord, our minds finally stopped wandering with the sentence beginning "When the basement gets finished ........." IT IS DONE! And it's beautiful.

Since I moved into 2798 Phillips 2 years ago, I've dreamed of transforming the basement into livable space. I grew up in two homes where some of the best memories derived from time spent in our basement living space. On Harrison, we had an amazing playroom, complete with a fish tank, play school and kitchen space, and treasures like PlayDough and art supplies (the PlayDough made us really popular among the neighborhood kids). The wood burning stove and our favorite VHSes played again and again added to its coziness. When we moved to Windsor, my parents remodeled the basement several years after we moved in to give Pat a larger space in which to live (it's a sweet chilly and dark cave of a room which fortunately I called home for a short while not too long ago) and a cozier living space. Before the remodel, however, the Ping Pong table and many TAG parties kept it a lively space. My vision of my musty "Michigan basement" in the Berk developing into the warm, bright, and livable space stemmed from these happy memories of family and friends.

"And I'm painting my room in a colorful way"

So, with the addition of a housemate in early October, I decided more space would be helpful and thus started six weeks of rotten wood removal, dry wall creation, painting, carpet laying, bar building, and shelf creating. It took the patience of the contractor Nick, my dutiful parents, and my dear housemate Deborah to help me through the decision making, mind changing, and constant dust. Thankfully, Deborah laughed through most of the noise, dust, singing, and transformation. And, luckily, she wanted to celebrate with me in a big way at the culmination of the project with a Bar Christening party. Thanks to everyone who joined us - we have rockin' friends!

Below are some before and after pics plus some shots from the party .. enjoy!

All the rotted wood under the stairs needed to be cleared

The wall's up!

Look at all the storage space .. we'll eventually have

Drywall

Messy, messy, messy

More mess

My dad is basically a master painter

Painting's done

Furniture & carpet 

Behind the bar (thanks for the fridge, Mom & Dad!)

Newest bar in the Berk!

Bar christening

Moonshine shots in celebration! "The basement is DONE!"

My ladies!

Cheers!

And the day after the party, we played a little Ping Pong. 

"We can bear it all by loving it all."

"We can bear it all by loving it all."
          -Kate DiCamillo, Foreword to Charlotte's Web

The reflection on my grandfather's life and death came quickly and poignantly. This post is a long time coming .. many times I've sat down to write it and the words just didn't come. A cousin said to me at my gramma's funeral, "I'm sorry you now have to live in a world without grandmothers. It sucks." Every time I sat down to honor my grandmother's life in this forum .. these words struck me. Who the hell wants to live in a world without grandmas, but especially MY grandmas, and why would I want to write about it? I suppose that's exactly why I'm writing .. they taught me to bear it all by loving, if not always liking, it all.

Shortly before she died, I visited her on a Friday night; I called my aunt to find out if Gramma might like a treat from the outside world. It was a rough week for her, one of deep sadness and bodily weakness. It was a shock to see her rapid decline since my last visit, one which jarred me. She sucked down that chocolate milkshake I brought her, though, and we shared a few quiet moments in the kitchen together. For the first time, we talked openly about my divorce and while the end of my marriage didn't match her own of sixty years, she likened them and asked me how I dealt with the sadness and worry and  loss. She wanted to feel better, to learn a new way to live without her beloved and asked for the guidance in that process. In that brief conversation, I learned more about my grandmother's courage and strength than I had in the previous thirty years; it was not because previously it wasn't clear - she was obviously those things and more - but in that fifteen minutes, she showed such vulnerability: her will to live, despite her broken heart, taught me the importance of grace, which to me means accepting the brokenness and growing from it. In her last few weeks of life by bearing her tremendous loss with such grace, Gramma reminded me of my own strength, courage, and ability to grow.

Oct. 9, 2012

Today, on my gramma's birthday, I write in celebration of her life: the loving life which bore much. Time and time again, I experienced myself and heard stories of her strength, dignity, grace, wonder, and delight. As a WWII nurse, mother of five, and devoted partner, Gramma demonstrated tenacity, compassion, and patience. As a world traveler, devout Catholic, and beach-lover, she expressed awe and wonder at the greatness of our God. As a grandmother and great-grandmother, she found delight in sporting events, report cards, travel plans, plays, and and and. She thought about us always - the newspaper clippings in the mail were proof - and it amazed me how clearly she remembered my friends, activities, likes, (obsessions?) and plans. In all the years of memories, two random ones stand out to me today; in my mind's eye, one describes her true nature and the other attempts to capture her delight in the small things.

#1. Gramma was always a lady. She dressed to the nines, complete with impeccable jewelry and manicured nails. Even in the hospital, she fretted about her ruined nightgown and the ICU nurses commented on the lovely lavender shade of her nails. However, sometimes her mischievous or playful nature took over and she did something completely unexpected .. like the time I caught her eating applesauce directly out of the jar or the time we convinced her to take a big bite out of her own 90th birthday cake. And oh, how those Irish eyes sparkled as she laughed. I do think she might not totally admit to the above anecdotes but I have proof.

As the cake eating challenge is suggested .. 

#2. When Charlotte (my cousin's daughter) was about a year, I called Gramma on the phone to check in. I asked her what she'd been doing and she complained good-naturedly, saying, "Oh, Sarah, I never get anything done. All we do around here these days is watch that baby." I laughingly suggested that maybe her to-do list (at 90 -whatever that was!) could probably wait; while she agreed, I knew the to-do was important to her: clipping from the newspapers for the rest of us, writing handwritten notes to her lifelong friends, and hosting the infamous tea parties to gather family and friends alike. They were check-ins with her friends, family, and herself - ways she took care, showed dedication, and reminded us of her gentle presence.

Reading books, a Clancy favorite passtime

I end this post with a quote from one of my favorite children's book. The authors of children's books have an incredible responsibility - simple language and content which convey meaning to its young audience. As we grow up, we add to these our own life experiences and the meaning becomes more profound. I'm so grateful for the thirty years I shared with Gramma - of course, I always wish I had more, but we're greedy, we humans, aren't we? She took her precious days and lived nearly 92 years of them embracing all they had to offer and shared her wisdom and love with the rest of us. We carry it still. Happy birthday, Gramma.

"These autumn days will shorten and grow cold. The leaves will shake loose from the trees and fall. Christmas will come, and the snows of winter. You will live to enjoy the beauty of the frozen world ...Winter will pass, the days will lengthen, the ice will melt in the pasture pond. The song sparrow will return and sing, the frogs will awake, the warm wind will blow again. All these sights and sounds and smells will be yours to enjoy, Wilbur—this lovely world, these precious days…” - E.B. White, Charlotte's Web

One of the many clippings I received in the mail.

An Open Letter to the Class of 2014

Tomorrow I begin my ninth year of teaching. In preparation for my three classes of seniors, I wrote a letter which I will read to them and then ask them to write one to me in return with their challenges and joys, both academic and personal (if they choose). I've included it below as my first blog post in months. I feel blessed I chose a life path which allows me to press the 'restart' button every August.  It's actually a little thing called 'grace' ...............

An Open Letter to the Class of 2014

Dear Class of 2014,

Welcome to IB2 English! Some of you I know from World Lit 9, others from Forensics or Extended Essay or my passport while a large number of you are merely friendly faces from the crowded IA halls. I look forward to getting to know you in a new way and while I hope you enter into senior year with mainly excitement, I know other emotions are in there too! I read once somewhere that a teacher who doesn't feel some amount of trepidation on the first day of school probably needs to find another career .. thankfully, I feel a bit awkward and nervous reading you this letter as I stand before you today! However, this nervous energy transfers into excitement as I look out to see our class and the possibilities in store for us - to laugh, read, explore, and write. It'll be some work, but I will do my best to make it engaging and meaningful for you. 

I always knew I wanted to be a teacher. For awhile I thought maybe doctoring would suit me (mainly because I wanted to meet a good looking pediatric doctor like George Clooney's character on E.R.) and sometimes I dream about working a tiny coffee shop by the beach but then I remind myself that I'd actually have to MAKE the coffee, not just drink it and read books with the sea breeze in my face. However, what brings me back to classroom each year - this'll be number 9 - is you: it's your energy, your excitement, your willingness to try new things, to laugh at my jokes, to produce solid writing, and to ask challenging questions (because now that you're a senior, you just ask good questions! - it's magic!) I studied literature because I really love to read, and I hope to encourage a passion for it in you. If I can't do that, then I hope at least you don't hate at least one text we read this year. In my chosen career path, I have the opportunity to expose you to new ideas and my own experiences and at the same time, learn from yours. This is where the nervousness comes in .. it's a big job to sit in this room among such intelligent and interesting individuals and hope I can share something worthwhile with you. I humbly ask you to bear with me; I beg you to share something in return with me. 

My greatest challenge as an educator is to both be knowledgeable and prepared and yet create a flexible and cooperative space. While it's important to maintain a steady pace, it's also important to take time to remind ourselves that the IB is.only.one.test. and it will not determine the rest of our lives, I promise. It's important to me that you are GOOD PEOPLE - caring, curious, and creative people - when you leave the IA, and that you love the written word as a gateway to explore the world beyond ourselves. I hope we ask one another meaningful questions. I'm asking you to trust me with the hard questions and respect me enough to be honest in return. I don't mind saying "I don't know, let's see what we can figure out" but I hope you are willing to take risks, too, and ask yourselves the hard questions as well even if you don't want to know the answer. (Those are the hardest ones!) 

I want our classroom to be nurturing and demanding, respectful and filled with integrity, and most importantly, positive. Let's lift one another up, and know that when we have a bad day, there will be a classroom full of smart people to remind us that while what we do here at the IA is important, it's not the only thing this life is about. We have books to read, miles to run, pets to cuddle, shows to watch, electronics to (sometimes) unplug, and people with whom it's important to engage in meaningful ways. The list goes on and on ... let's not get too busy to forget about these simple joys. 

Thank you in advance for your engagement, risk-taking, and ability to make me laugh ... I am SO looking forward to sharing this year with you.

All my best,

Ms. Clancy

My black headband broke this morning on my way out the door for PD; I posted it to Instagram with a flip caption about the first day of school & bad omens. My sister-in-law Catelyn used her magical (crafty) powers to transform it from a broken accessory to a symbol of love. Grace, indeed. 

The Circle of Life

From the day we arrive on the planet ... and blinking, step into the sun

Though despair and hope

Through faith and love

Till we find our place

On the path unwinding ...

The end of February and beginning of March kept me humming these powerful words from a little animation feature you might know, The Lion King. As I grieve the loss of my godfather, I celebrate the new life of Master William Porterfield with a quick & cozy trip to St. Louis and my own existence with a girls' trip to Nashville for my 30th birthday. In a much smaller way, I grieve another loss: that of stillborn twins to my beloved giraffe pal Kivuli who resides at the Detroit Zoo. In such weeks, the circle of life manifests itself in beautiful ways, though painful at times.

Long Beach in Winter

The next generation of Clancys:
Liam, Maya, and Charlotte

Gramma and her BFF, Mary, of 70+ years

We honored my grandfather with one last trip to the North Shore of Massachusetts for his burial. He and my gramma grew up in Beverly and each summer, after they moved to Michigan, still vacationed in nearby Rockport. Long Beach holds happy, happy memories for the Clancy clan and a trip to celebrate his life necessitated a beach visit. My parents and I walked on a cold day along the boardwalk, reminiscing about the vacations which started when my dad was small and continued through my college years. We laughed about our family rule "no day without ducking" (this is not a favorite rule of mine), Papa Da in the late years tooling down the boardwalk in his scooter, and the piles of books all over the cottage we devoured. Life on Long Beach was good. Time with the extended family after the beach visit felt appropriate to honor him as well. He would've loved the loud laughter, crowded family room so everyone could be in on the action, and the toddlers soaking up our attention. Taps played to send us from the family plot after the deacon used water and ship imagery to share his thoughts on life -- appropriate for a Navy man and beach lover. Family and friends gathered in Michigan and Beverly to express condolences, share memories, and simply be present, a gift in sad times.

Sweet Christy dubbed this little giraffe
"Sarah". I'm touched.

Ole William and his fan club clock
a lot of time on the exercise ball.
Happy to do my part!

I'd already waited almost two months to cuddle with Master William and despite the unexpected travels East, I hopped a plane to St. Louis to spend my few days a year with the Porterfields. My mom and I laughed about the difference in packing for a visit with a friend and her new baby versus a visit with other girlfriends. In other words, I packed lounging clothes, my slippers, and some socks. Since I never stepped foot into the outdoors, these served my purposes which included eating homemade soup, drinking copious amounts of coffee (when it was 5pm somewhere, we switched to our beloved Cab), and bouncing William on the exercise ball. My abs got a workout but that was about it. (Oh, yoga, I promise I'll return to you someday!) I delighted in his chubby cheeks, bath time, and seeing my dear friends joyfully embrace parenthood like naturals. When I put my boots on for the first time in three days, I felt a twinge of sadness to say goodbye but also this surge of great excitement to know this tiny little person would be a part of my life, and I'd get to see him grow and change and discover this world.
PS. It should be noted that Crist & I took NO pictures together .. a first in our years of friendship. We had a different subject as our focal point.

Kivuli in early January

Halfway through my travels, I read online Kivuli lost her twins. I was sad. Like, really sad. Once they announced her pregnancy in January, I visited her about once a week to check on her progress. If you know the Detroit Zoo, you understand that on cold, winter days, the giraffes seem really.far.away. and still I trudged to their house to watch as she paced and nested in the soft wood chips while her baby daddy Jabari checked on her anxiously over the separation. I too waited anxiously for the news of this baby's birth, and to learn of not one but both of their deaths broke my heart a little. And while I knew we were mourning my incredible grandfather, I also allowed myself to mourn a little for this mother who waited with great anticipation to meet her baby (the twins were a surprise to everyone -- though maybe not to her) and the sadness which goes along with a loss. The circle of life sometimes sucks.

Why WOULDN'T George FaceTime me?
It's my 30th! 

And sometimes the gift of a birthday really puts life into perspective. My birthday is the best day of my year and I try to make it the best in others too. This time for the 30th one, my friends really went all out. with a weekend girls' trip to Nashville. Kate & Steph planned a weekend which allowed us to eat, drink, and be merry in very Sarah-appropriate ways. I loved every second of the girl time, visits to Arrington Vineyard, Gigi's Cupcakes, The Bluebird Cafe, Sips and Strokes, Big Bang Dueling Pianos and Second Fiddle, and lounging in our beautiful rented house. Bringing friends from all the times & places of my life is one of my favorite things to do, mainly because I think they're all super cool and want them to know one another .. this weekend was no exception: memories were made with friends and I can't think of a better way to begin the next decade of my life.

Sips & Strokes Painting class!

I'm one lucky girl to have friends like these!

Even at 30, party hats are a must.

The ups and downs of the past few weeks allowed me to reflect on the circle of life with its despair, but also the hope in new life, magic grace, and simple things.

Oh, faith and love, too.

"It's nice to be with you."

I started teaching a new text today for IB2, a play by August Wilson entitled The Piano Lesson. It is a story about heritage and legacy, and what must be learned to move forward into the future with wisdom and understanding. With his black American voice, Wilson tackles these huge questions through the use of storytelling and oral tradition, common motifs in his own culture.

As I introduced the text, I found myself telling my class about my beloved Papa Da, the greatest storyteller I know - a man who encouraged my love for the written word far before I could read by gifting me with books, delighted his grandchildren with his tales of talking animals and make-believe lands, and read from illustrated anthologies complete with voices and actions. As we got older, his stories became less fanciful, their subjects ranging from our family's Irish-American history and his upbringing near Boston to his early days as a schoolteacher then as a Navy man in WWII, the post-war "secret" FBI stories, and always, always about his lovely bride. A greater love story has never been told than that of my grandparents, and I can't wait to tell my own children one day about this lifelong love I witnessed in their partnership. Papa Da loved to tell stories, and he was damn good at it.

I shared with my seniors how much I'd learned from him about our family, admitting my impatience at times when I'd heard it before or when I thought I had somewhere better to be. I tried to establish the role of storytelling in my own heritage and the lessons which come from resistance to or acceptance of those stories; they shared with me as well. Shortly after, my mom came to the IA to tell me that Papa Da slipped into eternal rest, quietly, humbly, with his bride of sixty-four years beside him. I told you: the greatest love story ever told.

God, I wish I hadn't been so impatient with those stories. Where else did I possibly have to be? Did he know how much I loved the Skippery Boo enactment, his made-up creatures, and that story about how he bought Gramma's engagement ring in Lakeland, Florida?

Christmas 2012, after the presentation of Papa Da's
much-anticipated Christmas books

It's easy to get lost in those thoughts of regret and disappointment, but I think he did. Sharing stories with those he loved (or sometimes barely knew!) gave him such joy; he raised children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren who celebrate the printed word and re-tell his favorite stories. In my mind, this is his legacy: a simple but rich one, that of fantastical lands and harsh realities, his own fairytale romance, and values of knowledge and wisdom instilled in us from a true teacher. As a teacher himself, I think he'd be quite pleased to know I shared a small piece of my students with him yesterday morning.

In his almost ninety-three years, Richard T. Clancy saw a lot of change. As a man of faith, family, and morals, he probably didn't love the choices the world or we as his family made sometimes. Yet, never did I hear words other than love, support, and respect leave his lips. He rejoiced in our successes, expressed sorrow for our griefs, and loved us unconditionally. For as long as I can remember, when I bent to say goodbye, he kissed me on the cheek, held my hand for a brief moment, wished me God's blessing, and said, "Nice to be with you." The beauty of his message is in its simplicity, I think, just like the stories.

He said two other phrases which will be his legacy as well, at least for me. He often told me, "You're looking good," -- never mind that we were on the phone at the time. As I got older, I said it back to him sometimes on the phone, beating him to it, and he got such a kick out of that. His sense of humor especially with us grandkids was a such a gift. Secondly, he often said, "Glory be to God" with great exuberance. It really had this perfect pitch and tenor which left no mistake about how exactly he felt about something. Papa Da's presence didn't go unnoticed in most situations and for that, he was a stranger to no one he met. His wide circle of friends all over the place and strong connections to distant relatives in Ireland attest to his generous spirit and sense of adventure.

Never was Mr. Clancy happier than when he was surrounded by his family:
Pat & Catelyn's wedding (2011) with nearly the whole fam-damily

Papa Da's legacy lives on in each of us, and in our many anecdotes and beautiful memories of him we can now share. There are so many tales of Rockport adventures, his support at games and performances and weddings, the legendary book gifts at Christmas, and the flowers which he gave my grandmother every.single.week for their entire marriage. (Did I not tell you it really is a fairytale?!) He wove past and present together into this seamless heritage for us. To move into a future without our Clancy patriarch means to embrace his greatest gift to us, our own oral tradition, and celebrate Dick Clancy's legacy through his storytelling.

It was nice to be with you, Papa Da.

The Year of "Being Sarah"

Several months ago, I drove up north with a good chunk of the senior class and a super fun group of co-workers to chaperone their 'Group 4 project,' which is part of the science requirement for IB. While traveling I mentioned to my good friend Brad I wanted to become more interesting. He scoffed and replied that he thought I was already pretty interesting: I'm well-read, dedicated teacher, music lover good friend and faithful sister/daughter. He commented that I'm extremely social while taking time for myself when I need it, and devoting myself to the kids in the form of coaching and whatnot.

True. And I'm grateful he didn't say, "Yea, you know, you're right. You are kinda boring. I've been meaning to talk with you about that."

But I have no real hobbies. I guess that what's I meant when I said I wanted to be more interesting. Once we brainstormed a bit, and multiple things immediately got checked off the list, most adamantly firing lessons, I realized I do have plenty of interests for which I just don't necessarily have an outlet (shooting guns isn't one of them - it might've been a long trip and we might've gone a little overboard with the suggestions).

So, as 2012 came to a close, and my 30th year began, I reviewed my interests and did some creative thinking to see how best I could expand my horizons. Here's what I've got:

Yoga - I decided to start an aerial yoga class at the local circus school called The Detroit Flyhouse. Classes start in late February, and promise me trapeze, improved balance, the elusive back bend (my nemesis on the mat) and a potential new career. They did not promise feathers or a red sequined costume but I'm hopeful.

Giraffes - Recently as part of a Poe lesson, I asked students what excited me (there was a point, I promise). They responded in this order: George Clooney. Giraffes. Literature. 30 year old men who DON'T like My Little Ponies. (Side note: Are you aware of this sub-culture known as the Bronies? So.Weird. We talk about this oddity more often than is really appropriate in this highly academic environment.) Anyway, the point is that I love giraffes, and as much time as I spent up-close with these gentle creatures in Kenya, I have not had much contact with them than my weekly zoo trips and Discovery's new series, Africa. So, I'm training to be a volunteer at the zoo. While I've been warned "I DON'T GET TO TOUCH OR FEED THE ANIMALS" on multiple occasions, the idea of sharing my quirky animal facts and internal monologues I make up for the animals with zoo visitors excites me immensely.

LIBRES - Inspired by a recent book called The Happiness Project, I joined a group which reads YA and children's literature with the purpose of making curricular connections. The author created a book club to discuss 'just for fun' books based in her love for children's fiction. I already participate in a book club, and while I love it, this new endeavor also allows me to dream about the imaginary classroom I'd create if state standards or the IB didn't exist and we could just read and do fun projects with the rich literature. And if I had the patience for younger students.

Spanish - It is just stupid that I don't speak conversational Spanish. I've traveled to a number of Spanish-speaking places, my best friends speak beautiful Spanish, and I've attempted several times (admittedly, half-assed) to learn the language. This time .. I'm all in. Through LiveMocha, I'm doing it: weekly courses online, complete with feedback from native speakers and recording myself to hear my improving accent.

So .. while I don't think I am boring, I do think there is more to life than grading papers and zoning out in front of the TV when my brain fries from the papers. One of the components of The Happiness Project encourages "being [insert your name here]." What we value about ourselves -- and what we also beat ourselves up over -- is the "being Sarah" component. All of it - the good, the bad, and the ugly - is part of who I am and who I am sometimes means staying home, curled up with a really good book or soaking in a hot tub, on a Saturday night. That part - being a homebody - comes pretty naturally to me; I'm still working on the not judging myself for it part!  In 2013, being Sarah means exploring my interests, not because it'll make me more interesting, but because I want to be ME, and being me isn't the frazzled and exhausted paper-grader I sometimes catch myself impersonating. Oh, and 2013 also means turning 30. The good news is that I plan to do it in an interesting way. Cheers!