The Real World and the Bubble

Death and destruction in Israel and Gaza.

Dysfunction and bad leadership choices in the US House of Representatives

Another mass shooting, this time in Lewiston, Maine.

It’s not a pretty world.

In our own little bubble people get up to live another day. If we remember, we are grateful for the beauty of nature around us, the food we eat, the schools that nurture our children, clean water to drink.

We reminisce over places that used to be here. We get excited about things that are to come. Sometimes, we worry about them.Will Columbia/HoCo still be the place we want to be? The place that we remember? A place we feel at home?

Every day inside our bubble we have reasons to be thankful and reasons to complain. No one claims this is paradise, except possibly realtors or the tourism folks. It isn’t paradise. Some folks struggle a lot.

But then I look at the world outside our bubble and shrink from the violence of it. The hatred and injustice. It is every small failure, disappointment, and imperfection we see in our own lives but blown up to an unimaginable size.

This week it threatens to consume us.

How much easier it is to cling to our tiny world. Post photographs of sunsets and autumn leaves. Complain about school buses or bike lanes or how things just aren’t like they used to be.

We know - - oh yes, we feel it to the bone - - that it is not a pretty world. But for God’s sake, let us our keep our bubble and a few illusions to cling to.

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Teacher Gifts

Today is the last day of school before the Winter Break. It’s a good time to remember the far-reaching nature of our public school system. You may not have children. You may have sent your children to independent schools. It matters not. You will be impacted one way or another. Yesterday I read a long thread on Facebook about several waves of illness in the schools right now. There’s influenza A and norovirus, I believe. And of course there’s COVID. Apparently in some individual schools the rate of illness is high enough for school admin to notify parents. When I was little the acceptable holiday gift for a teacher was one of those lovely floral handkerchief squares. (I don’t know what it was for male teachers. They were rare in my elementary years.) These days the range of teacher gifts is wider and I have fond memories of Target gift cards which I have written about before. I think it’s safe to say that giving one’s teacher Influenza, norovirus, or COVID is not the ideal holiday...

They Can Wait

This is not a typical Saturday post. That’s because, in my community, it’s not a typical Saturday. Oakland Mills High School, after years of deferred repair, needs massive renovation. It’s pretty simple: when you don’t fix a problem it gets bigger. The school system itself said the the OMHS school building was "no longer conducive to learning" back in 2018. 2018 . But Thursday the Boad of Education voted to push it out of the lineup of important projects which will be given the go-ahead to proceed soonest. In my opinion it’s a terrible decision and sets a dangerous precedent. To explain, here’s the advocacy letter I sent in support of Oakland Mills High School. I was rather proud of it. I am writing to ask you to proceed with needed renovation at Oakland Mills High School in the most timely and comprehensive manner humanly possible. I have read the letter sent to you by the Oakland Mills Community Association and I am in complete agreement. You are extremel...

Columbia Chance Connection

Last night, as my husband and I were about to sit down to dinner, our front door swung open and a cheery voice announced, “I’m ba—ack!” We weren’t expecting anyone. Clearly the only people who’d walk right in to our house would be one of our offspring. I had my reading glasses on so I wasn’t seeing too clearly. It seemed too tall for our youngest, but we knew our eldest was at work. I took off my glasses to see a friendly but confused face scanning our living room. When her gaze landed on us we all had a sudden realization. We didn’t know eachother. “Oh I’m so sorry! I’m in the wrong house! My daughter just moved in and she needed hooks for the kitchen so I ran out to get them.” She waved the package. “All these houses look the same and I don’t know the neighborhood yet. I thought this was my daughter’s house.” We were all getting a bit giggly. “That’s okay. For a quick second we thought you were our daughter,” said my husband. I told her our names and said she should defin...

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