February -- Another Winter Break

     OK, so I suppose I should call this blog “Whenever” because that’s when I seem to post.  I had intended to post weekly, but this whole school thing has been awful.  I hate going there, I feel like I’m doing stuff I’ve already done before, yet I’m on edge all of the time.  The building is so noisy, the kids are rude for the sake of being rude, not for any good reason, and I just don’t understand them.  Sometimes even my friends can get all worked up over nothing. 

     And I find myself falling into that trap, too.  Aunt Lina and I have been snapping at each other like never before.  And sometimes I find myself snappy with my friends, too.

     I am really beginning to think it’s something in the water or air of this damned state. 

     For example, there’s Wren and this play.  In late January, the director, Antonio, held try-outs for our after school group, at the East Springs Tech High School Auditorium.  He gave us CD’s of the music to learn, and copies of the play “Cheers Not Tears – Just Smile!”  Some of the kids in the group don’t want to be in the play, and since the after school meetings have become all about this play, they’ve stopped coming.  We all read from the script, and Dor wanted to sing for her tryout.  That’s when we heard that Antonio had held tryouts for kids he’d worked with before, and that the singing parts had been given to other local kids! 

     But Wren had promised us a chance at the leads, or at least for parts with lines.

     There were none left.

     When we went to talk to Wren about it, she told us she’d never promised us parts, just the chance to try out, “…just like everyone else.”

     So while the chosen few golden gals & guys get to practice their song-and-dance on the stage at East Springs Tech, we’re making posters.  And somehow, this thing’s supposed to be happening in late March.

     As February came in with conflicting groundhogs seeing/not seeing shadows, the problems with the play began.  First there were cast problems.  Because we’d used the East Springs Tech stage, kids from the High School had tried out.  But some of these kids were less than responsible.  Amelia’s mom is ferrying us back-and-forth at least twice a week, but these kids were coming by bus, and sometimes they never made it to rehearsals, so there were cast changes, then the cost of using the stage was becoming a problem, so we began to meet in the Dutch Reformed Church a few blocks away, because they had a big gym, and they weren’t charging anything.

     But they don’t have a stage, so we still have to find a venue for the play.  So those posters we made, the ones with the date in March—suddenly they’ve become worthless.

     Way to waste my time.

      This goes on for almost a month.  Amelia’s mom was asked by Wren to be the narrator, and then to be the drunken teacher.  Mrs. Risono (that’s Amelia’s mom) was doing it because none of Wren’s friends seemed to want to be bothered.  Mrs. R wanted us to have a good time with this play, even if it meant that she had to stay for some of the rehearsals.  And so the month went, until “Presidents’ Day” vacation.

     White Cedars gave us a week off for “Presidents’ Day”.  You see, once-upon-a-time there were two Presidents who had February birthdays – Lincoln and Washington.  Children would get the day off.  As it became less convenient for corporations, unions and working moms to coordinate children and two mid-week holidays, the celebrating was pushed to the nearest Monday to create an extended weekend.  Then, someone came up with the brilliant idea of mushing the two birthdays into one paid holiday (thus making workers & schoolchildren lose a day off) & putting it on a Monday.  Then, someone else decided that closing schools for a week in February would save money because the school wouldn’t have to be heated…and in White Cedars it became “February break” week, and no one remembers Lincoln and Washington except as faces on low-denomination bills & loose change…

     This winter has been unseasonably warm, with barely any snow. The vacation week was sunny and warm.  I’d had my bike out a few times this winter, so I spent time riding around the neighborhood, learning the streets, and seeing more of White Cedars than just the route to school and back.  The park is beautiful, but there are signs posted on the paths that no bikes are allowed.  Well that stinks! 

     Carl has been practicing some new folk music on the banjo; he’s been playing with a group in Brooklyn and he had to miss a few of the “Cheers Not Tears – Just Smile!” rehearsals.  Ruby’s family goes to Key West each year, so she was gone, too. Amelia, Dor and I got together a couple of times, and we did get to a few of the rehearsals, but it seems that the musical numbers needed more work – Antonio had a choreographer friend who was helping out with the dancing.  She complained because she didn’t have any stage dimensions to work with, but it seems to be coming together.  Wren and Mrs. R had a “discussion” about the number of rehearsals that we were coming to that involved us all just sitting there doing nothing.  Wren seemed to think that we should be there to “support” the rest of the cast.  Mrs. R said that she didn’t think of herself or us kids as being anyone’s “bra,” which left Wren sputtering.  But Antonio just chuckled and agreed.  So from now on we will only be asked to come to rehearsals we will actually be rehearsing in.

     And the date of the play has been pushed back to the end of April.  It was going to be the week after Easter, but that’s Orthodox Easter, and Dor, Mrs. R and I couldn’t make it then.  They still don’t have a venue to play on, but seeing as how there have been so many changes, it looks like the play’s name should be switched to “Tears, Not Cheers.”

     And so I’m almost up-to-date with my life.  It’s boring, going to Middle School in the dregs of modern New Jersey suburbia.  I wonder what I’m missing in the woods of Pennsylvania.  Are the skunk cabbages breaking up out of the leaves on the forest floor?  Are the rabbits dancing in the moonlit fields?  What predators have come into the area, now that Aunt Lina and I are not around? 

     God how I miss my life at the farm!

     Until my next post….

     Randi

January Means Back To School

          So we get a week off from the rigors of school, and then, right after celebrating the New Year, BAM!  It’s back to school. 

          Let me tell you a little about my week off.  For Christmas we had a few people over.  Ronnie and Lizzie came, but there was a tension there – all Ron (he doesn’t like Ronnie anymore) could talk about was this girl Alyssa at school.  It was so obvious that he was crushing Lizzie’s spirit every time he mentioned Alyssa’s tattoo, her new car, her pierced lip, nose and eyebrow…When he showed us a photo on his laptop, and Lizzie saw that she was blond, I knew it was time for us to go for a walk.  She’d always expected they would end up dating…  We had expected Lizzie and Ron to stay a while, but he left the day after Christmas, leaving us with a mopey Lizzie.

          I saw all of my friends at one point or another during the week.  Then Ruby invited us over to her house for New Year’s Eve.  Parents (and guardians) too.  Lizzie declined the invite – one of her friends came by to pick her up at six.  Aunt Lina made some zabaglione for the party and at eight thirty we walked the few blocks over to Ruby’s.  We kids were in the “rec room” in the basement, watching “Mama Mia.”  It’s one of Ruby’s favorites – she loves Abba. Dor came alone – her parents had other plans, and her brother just wanted to stay home and play computer games.  Ruby’s parents had invited some of their friends who had children, so there were kids from grade school and one high schooled…

          The adults were all in the living room.  There was a hot & cold buffet of homemade goodies, and then at eleven-thirty we had desserts.  Cookies dunked in chilled zabaglione are sooo decadent.  We pigged out, and sang along with the movie.  Then we came up from the basement to ring in the new year with the adults.  We went out on the porch and made lots of noise.  Fireworks are illegal in New Jersey, but one of the neighbors didn’t seem to care, because they were lighting them off.  And it wasn’t just the little ones – they put on a private light show for the whole block.  They didn’t seem to care that Ruby’s mom is a cop…. We had intended to leave early, but Aunt Lina and I didn’t get home until after 3 AM!  Lizzie didn’t come back until five-thirty….

          The next day I slept late, and Lizzie used my computer.  That’s when Aunt Lina punished me for the whole “Maddie” on Facebook thing.  And then it was back-to-school on January 2^nd. 

For two months I’d been flying under the radar as “the new kid.”  The popular kids weren’t threatened, and I’d chosen to associate with known geeks, so I’d sort of been considered insignificant.  That had been fine with me.  But that thing in Math class had made waves – it was as if I’d taken on Byron Knight.  Suddenly the rumor was that I hadn’t been willing to work with him.  All of his buddies who had been in the group (that was everyone except Carl and me) were saying that I had acted all snotty and refused to cooperate, and I’d brought their grades down by wasting their time, when I actually had done the work myself. 

          Now people who had been indifferent were either pointedly staring at me or purposely turning their back on me.  The girls were the worst – either whispering and pointing or tossing their heads and flouncing away as if I had cooties. I found their behavior interesting yet incomprehensible, sort of the way Jane Goodall must feel when she observes chimpanzees.  Except those primates were probably more civilized than the kids in my middle school.

          I’ve been suffering through this for weeks, now.  It stinks.  Thank God for my core group of friends and for our after school group with Wren.  Amelia’s mom drives us over to Frost Spring twice a week to meet with Wren and the other kids.  Wren’s now talking about having our group do a play in the community as a fundraiser.  This director she knows has a script that’s supposed to be addressing teen social issues, and she’s going to see if he’s interested in having our group as the actors.  Wren promised that we’d all get speaking roles if we wanted the parts, and said she’d make sure we were considered for the main characters.  It’s a musical, and we’d have to try out, but Wren said the first set of auditions would be our group only.  It all sounds so good, and it’s made Dor happy because she won’t be involved with the Middle School play this year.

          Get this – she can’t even try out for this year’s play.  Why?  Because last year the director, our homeroom teacher, Ms. Flemington, had several of her homeroom students in the production.  A parent had accused her of favoritism, so this year, she’s gone all King Solomon & told our class flat out that no one from our homeroom should even bother to try out.  How fair is that?

          The only saving grace was that the play was one that Dor hated, because it was not even a real play, just a re-write of a Disney movie script.  Yeah, you guessed it – “High School Musical”.  Ugh!  How pathetic can you get?

          Apparently, you can get more pathetic than “High School Musical”.  There’s a script out there that’s even worse, and naturally that’s the one that Wren’s friend Antonio came up with.  It’s called “Cheers Not Tears – Just Smile!” and it’s a musical.  This post is getting a little long, and it’s getting late.  I’ll save the details for another time.  But believe me; it’s gonna be one heck of a story explaining this!

Until my next post…

Randi

An Artificial Tree And Other New Things

     ( I have a few posts written but Aunt Lina isn't allowing me on-line.  So I've found a way around it.  I take a flash-drive to school. Carl has figured a way around the "parental controls" that DSW uses, so I can e-mail myself each post, while supposedly "transferring homework".  Then during lunch, if I go outside & stand by the teacher's lounge/media center, I can get a wi-fi signal & post to my blog.  Sneaky, but it works. )

   

The night that we put together the artificial tree (a first for us – we usually just cut one down at the farm), Aunt Lina had a glass of wine.  She usually doesn’t partake of adult beverages, because our people have a low tolerance for the stuff.  It’s ruined the lives of many Native families.  Aunt Lina keeps the stuff around for cooking – it’s one of the “secret ingredients” for her spaghetti sauce (the other is ground venison –it’s not such a big secret, it’s just that some people object to eating ground Bambi).  Red wine’s also great form making mushroom chicken & zabaglione, a really fabulous dessert--but I’m getting off track here.

Because of the wine, Aunt Lina actually began to talk a little about her past.  It’s not a subject she talks about easily.  She had already told me that she’s been to every state in the US except Hawaii.  She talked of some really impossible stuff, like seeing Buffalo hunts and wars with the white invaders, and how that temporarily limited her access to the Spiritworld.

I asked her why we were Christian, if she knew there was a Spiritworld.  She explained that the Spiritworld held all possibilities, and that there were places there that those from this world could only cross once.  Perhaps the Heaven of the Christians was there.  She only could say that the few times she’d been near that edge, she’d pulled back.  Aunt Lina was not ready for that, even though so many people that had been in her life had gone that route.

In the early years of the 20^th Century, Aunt Lina had lived in Alaska, mentoring young Eklutnan shifters (arctic fox and polar bear).  The natives were Orthodox Christians, and she was baptized while in Alaska. My godmother Anastasia is Inuit and Eklutnan; Aunt Lina had befriended Ana’s grandmother while in Alaska, although Anastasia thought that it was Aunt Lina’s mother, and not Aunt Lina herself.  Aunt Lina was actually Anastasia’s godmother, but she’d had to come up with a fictitious “parent” in order to explain why she hadn’t aged. 

Aunt Lina talked quite a bit as we put lights and ornaments on the tree.  Almost all of the ornaments were hand-made, carved or crafted treasures that Aunt Lina had saved over her lifetime.  Each one had a story or memory for her; a carved walnut shell seemed to be very precious, as was a crocheted angel, a beaded eggshell, and a painted scallop.  She told me stories of the clans in winter, how various tricksters managed to survive, and how the Spiritworld was starting to manifest in various cities, as people had become conscious of the damage that had been done to the animal population of the world.  A surprising number of big cities were becoming home to reintroduced species, like the hawk, falcon, coyote, fox, and owl.  As the animals relocated, so did some shifters.  Aunt Lina herself had lived in San Francisco during the 1960’s, and been in New York during the Depression.  It was almost incomprehensible, to think that this woman had experienced that much history in her life.

As I put the last ornament, a plastic fairy that I’d bought in Philadelphia last year, on the tree, I caught Aunt Lina looking at me oddly.

“What’s the matter?” I asked. 

She just shook her head, smiling an odd smile.  Another memory of the past?

“I know you’re busy with school, and probably aren’t thinking about it, but don’t even think of shifting this week, ok?” 

The next day at school, I understood what she meant.  I thought I had an upset stomach, but it turned out to be my introduction to cramps.  Lovely.  Thank goodness that Amelia had some supplies in her locker!

When I got home, Aunt Lina had a cup of herbal tea for me.  I was surprised that she wasn’t working in the back room – her “studio”.  I hadn’t told anyone at school what had happened, yet she was ready for me.

As we sipped tea, Aunt Lina explained that shifting during my period could make cramps worse, at least for now.  Last night she’d had a feeling that I would start bleeding this week, and wanted to make sure I didn’t suffer pain making a change in my first week.  For most girl shifters, the first shift happens around the first menstruation.  Boys start later in the teen years.  Shifting as an infant is truly unusual; I’d been told that so long ago, I forgot when I first heard it. 

For a few days, everything at school seemed to irritate me.  It was so irrational.  In Math, the teacher had us work on some problems “in teams” and I found it so frustrating to wait for everyone to catch up – I could have done the stupid problems in a few minutes instead of wasting two days on it.  Carl had to calm me down several times when this one kid kept insisting that things be done his way…  His name is Byron Knight.  Apparently the kid feels entitled because his family owns several bars and shops along the main drag, as well as an apartment complex.  His motto is “My way or the highway, baby.”  I’m serious.

At the end of class on the first day of the assignment, I went to the teacher, Mr. Wellman, and handed him a paper with my calculations.  I asked if I could just be my own team.  I told him that as the only girl on Byron’s team, I was being ignored, and that Carl wasn’t allowed any input as well.  Mr. Wellman told me that I had to do things with the team, and take the grade the team received, but that he was going to use the paper I’d given him as extra credit.  That was good, but at the end of the assignment, he proclaimed my team as the quintessential example of how not to run a team.  He didn’t use Byron’s name, but explained that the team leader had overlooked contributions from a team member that could have gotten the team an A grade; instead the team had earned a C.  He said that the team leader, while attempting to keep his leadership role, had actually bullied his team into the lower grade.  He held up my paper to prove that we could have gotten a better grade, and done it faster, if they had listened to all people in the group while “brainstorming”.  Unfortunately, I write big, and everyone in the front row could see my name.  By the end of the class, I’d earned the reputation of a brown-nosing bitch.

Thank God for Christmas.  This happened a few days before the holiday break.  I had hoped that everyone would forget by the time school re-opened.  For the most part, that was true.  The exception was Byron Knight.  I’d been in White Cedars less than three months, and I had managed to piss off one of the more popular kids at DS Whitstone (and the most influential kid in town, besides his older brother Jordan).

Naturally, I came back to school in January as a social pariah.  But I’ve always been that, hanging out with Carl, Dor, Ruby, & Amelia.  It’s just that I used to be an unknown pariah, now I’m the girl that pissed off Byron Knight.

Until my next post….

Randi