Oh, the dreadful wind and rain

Aah, June-uary! That's what they've been calling it, because, here in this city, it's cold out there! Cold, wet, and windy.

"And the only tune that it would play was--oh, the dreadful wind and rain." Whoever thought up that folk song never came here. Here, the dreadful rain--and sometimes wind--is a way of life. Even in June. A friend in Ohio was blissfully talking about the summer-y weather and I was tempted to write back: "Dear K--I went to the library and got soaked coming back; so I stayed home from my sister's gymnastics class and watched the wind blow. This is Seattle." But she didn't make a big deal about it. Interesting thing about my friends, they don't ask how the weather has been--except for Seattle friends, who ask Well, how do you like this stuff that we've been having? whether it's been exceptionally cold, hot, windy, dry, wet, or whatever.

Monday the wind was strong, stronger than I've seen it in a long time. I wasn't in the country for the big windstorm that happened a couple Decembers ago, but some friends of ours told us that the airport was running on emergency generators and so a lot of it was eerily dark. Ah, well...that was in the past. It was a strong southwest wind; sitting by my north window I saw a bird flying west. It was struggling, and a gust actually blew it back, its wings curving in an agonized attempt to buffer the storm; I was glad to see that it was able to turn around and fly east. Now, that is strong wind for you. I thought: "It's a wonder the power isn't off." As usual, I spoke too soon--about nine fifteen in the evening, the lights blew out, and we were left in total darkness 'til about 2:02 a.m.

• My father went to bed early; he didn't really want to wait around for us to finish with the computer, and there was nothing else to do.
• We lit candles, five wee little tea-lights, which we set upon phone books and read by.
• I am--I admit it freely--afraid of the dark, so instead of sleeping alone downstairs, I slept on the couch, where the lights from far away in the city could come in through the picture windows and comfort me.
• We saved our showers 'til the next morning.

It was a very chill night. The wind rolled through the trees and the darkness was sufficiently penetrating to be part of a horror movie. I read the last book in Deborah Ellis' Breadwinner trilogy; and while I enjoyed the first one and found the second one to be interesting, this was fairly ironic in tone and terribly depressing. Coupling that with the dark, silent world around me, I was so scared I could cry.

So where's the point in all this? Since I am a fiddling writer, did I get out the fiddle and crank out a few tunes? Ah, I might've--but Daddy was in bed. If he'd been up I might have gotten out an instrument. That is, after all, what they did in the old days.

But I didn't.

And the lights came on at 2 a.m.

And now I'm using all sorts of appliances and acting like the power outage never happened. It was a big one, too--all the way from 6th ave. to Lk. Washington; and the houses within a certain north-south boundary. That includes Charlie's house, I think. Also, I heard that there were power outages in areas that might be inhabited by other fiddle people I know; I told Mum that it was a sly attempt to get us to stop, by taking away our power. Actually, I don't know if anyone I know was affected by it, but it's possible.

Anyway, this is not the sort of thing you expect to happen on your first day of summer vacation, nor is it the sort of thing you really want to happen anytime. Thank God for candles--and fairly reliable electricity. I've been in places where it's a bigger danger (and I've seen houses with no electricity, too...).

From one thing to another

Some friends of ours, an old extra-curricular teacher of mine and her husband, just had their first baby, yesterday! It's a girl! How wonderful!

So there's another birthday in June for our family and friends. My grandmother's birthday was on Tuesday and Mum's is tomorrow. If it's anything, my half-birthday is Monday. And what's funny is, all year I've been volunteering in a 2nd-grade public school classroom; and the teacher there has her birthday on Monday, too! Of course, I didn't ask how old she was turning. I, by the way, will be 15 1/2 if you're curious. I won't tell you how old either my mother or grandmother are.

Ah, speaking of my volunteering...I've been doing this all year, since September, and yesterday was my last day. It's always been the same class, too. It's been a very rewarding experience for me--I hope the kids got something out of it, too, though I sincerely doubt it. My mother wanted me to do this so that I could make sure that I really wanted to be a teacher and not something else. Being homeschooled does have its advantages...this is sometimes hard to explain to the various skeptics I have encountered. Actually, I love it--homeschooling and volunteering, I mean.

I've had some interesting experiences throughout the year--from being assigned to do phonics sheets with a little girl who can barely read (and I had no previous experience doing any sort of tutoring!) to standing around for fifteen minutes on a wild-run playground, stunned; I was attempting to do recess duty. But it's been a lot of fun. I worked under the regular teacher and three different subs. One was a slightly bewildered man who had to deal with a massive whale-puppet craft that involved a lot of grown-up helping (substitute and teenage volunteer running from table to table helping kids cut, gluing, assigning paper fasteners...whew!); one was a kind of tired-looking woman who got into a long discussion about college with me when she found out I was a high school student; and one was an older lady who blithely told me to "just do what you always do" and left me thinking, okay, except for working with little A. I've never had a strict schedule...better just wing it. The regular teacher is a young lady who is in her first full year at this school; she's good at it. She and I figured out each other's signals pretty quickly, I think--she was easy to read and she seemed to read me well. She's the one with the birthday. I'm going to miss her.

I'm going to miss the kids, too. They're so cute. There was one little boy who was incredibly bratty, but he was so sweet about it; there wasn't a grain of malevolence in him. He was assigned to do reading with me, and he grabbed his "book-box" and said: "Ms. Vi, can I toss these books around the room?" I said: "No. That's not a good idea." Another little girl was very smart and quick; she liked to help the teacher and the poor bewildered volunteer. "What do you want to be when you grow up?" she asked me. "Oh, I'm planning to be a teacher," I said. "So that's why you're here," she answered, chin in the air. Those are only two; several of the kids have great stories attached to them.

Of course, there are drawbacks. Like sitting there and listening patiently to the kid struggle through a book on snakes which is written at a low reading-level and basically consists of: "Some snakes have stripes. Some snakes have spots. Some snakes have baby snakes." I was thinking, this is incredibly boring, this is the downside of teaching; and then I saw the book's author. Or authors, I should say. That book, which wasn't much longer than what I just recounted, was written by a committee of six! What on earth were they doing, each writing one page?! Good grief!

And then there are joys. I have sat with a kid and helped her on her column addition, and I think that she actually understood a little bit better when I was through. I also got to give the spelling test once, and it seemed to work out okay. It was both a joy and a sorrow that when the teacher said it was time to say goodbye to me, that a lot of the kids wanted to give me hugs. It was a joy because it was nice to see that I hadn't made myself too repulsive; but it was a sorrow because this meant goodbye.

And now, summer! These kids don't get out for a week and a half. I got out yesterday, because my mother starts a grade in January, and works me on nonstop except for weekends for 22 weeks, at which point I get to take a break until after summer, when I finish the grade up. So what will the summer bring? Memories, I suppose. I'm going to a drama class the week after next; in August I might teach V.B.S. at church. And I'll fiddle, too. Charlie's thinking of doing a jam later this month; and a couple who lives in a different neighborhood has a monthly jam--it was cancelled this month, but for now July is ago. A week and a half ago, I fiddled outside to the sunset, playing both Irish tunes and old-timey stuff, too.

Whew! There's a post for you. Babies, birthdays, school, and summer. Still with me?