Well, I do have to admit defeat – at least in terms of being able to blog for 100 days in a row.  I made it to 66 days spread over about 90 days (including weekends).  I learned a lot.  I learned I do have something to write about – even if other folks aren’t convinced they want to read it.  I learned that I like to write – given the time to do the thinking about what I want to write about.  I learned that although I wish I weren’t; I’ve been too trained in the last 15 years to be an academic writer, and so it’s very hard to write something once and publish it without further work and reflection upon the product.  I learned that it’s hard to write without an audience.  I learned what I already knew already that I’m pretty tenacious; the difference being that as I age I know when to give up!   It was fun.  I intend to go back over my entries, pick up some of the threads and create some more viable products than a paragraph here and there.  And, so actually I wasn’t defeated — I correct myself — I chose to stop something that was no longer interesting and not finish just for the sake of finishing.  For me – that’s big!

We are deeply saddened to announce that Steve Jobs passed away today (Weds Oct 5, 2011)

Steve’s brilliance, passion, and energy were the source of countless innovations that enrich and improve all of our lives. The world is immeasurably better because of Steve.

His greatest love was for his wife, Laurene, and his family. Our hearts go out to them and to all who were touched by his extraordinary gifts.

In 1976, my husband was a novice engineer and member of the (in)famous Homebrew Club (we met at Stanford the SLAC).  I worked at the Byte Shop in Palo Alto where one of my responsibilities was to take orders for the ‘new’ Apple I — and then go to Steve’s garage and pick up those that were ordered to deliver to the other computer stores in the Bay area.

I imagine in the next few days many people will come out of the woodwork and claim to have known this genius of a man.  What I know and learned from Jobs was that geniuses are only human.  When I sold those little memory boards and ran my errands to his garage, none of us could know what would be in 35 years time.
It’s been a long and interesting ride, Steve, we and the world will miss you.  Today I am thinking of Steve Jobs and his family.  My deepest sympathies go to his family on the loss of that human being you knew and loved.

For more details of his life — there are many articles like these online:
http://www.macworld.com/article/162763/2011/10/remembering_steve_jobs_the_man_who_saved_apple.html
http://www.cnn.com/2011/10/05/us/obit-steve-jobs/index.html?hpt=hp_t1

“Here’s the lesson: If you have something to say on the page, don’t hesitate. Don’t procrastinate. Don’t make excuses. Seize every moment you find to write. Honor your voice and your stories. Starting now. Because this moment is all we have–take it from me. Write. Now.”

Great thought from a blog I just found while actually poking about looking for a picture to use as a writing prompt.  I missed writing on Friday (although funny thing was  I woke up from a dream that morning having blogged in my sleep and spending most of the day thinking I’d done my blog for the day – with no time to log on and check!).   I’ve had a busy weekend, and am still in the middle of being on call for some moving that’s going on while hubby empties a long overdue for it clean out a storage unit day.

This quote and the news I heard this morning about a dear friend’s passing coincide in a way that my dear friend would truly believe was no coincidence.  She was a loving soul, open to all kinds of living, and life.  We spent many many hours together as young mothers: she with one child (before she remarried and had two more children), and me with two.  We spent many hours talking as women, and many hours enjoying life with our children at beaches, and ponds and hiking and amusement parks.  I shall miss her so dearly.

What does this have to do with teaching?  Everything.  I am how I teach.  I cannot separate the me from the teacher I bring to the classroom.  Oh, I can do the professional behavior thing of not crying in class this week; but that’s not the same as my dear friend’s passing (at a young age of around 60) doesn’t remind me to enjoy the moment of my teaching.  Watch for the student’s smile; watch for the enlightenment bulb go on, and remember that one or more of them may be sitting there with heaviness in their hearts as they try to learn what I am trying to teach trying to still the heaviness in my heart.  Today I think of Carla and her living in the moment.

The last time we were all together was last summer at the Cape in a rental house for a few more days than two. I always say I’ll take something over nothing; and yet I always wish for more.

As any mother I love my children very deeply. Since they have left home in the early to mid-90s, I’ve learned to accept my sadness at their daily absence from my life. And along with that sadness, comes the overwhelming pride at the adults they have become. I think of them often during a day, seeing and hearing something I know they would like to hear, a moment with their father, or a new food I’ve cooked and I think they’d like to try. But the missing is different. When they reappear in person, I must feel deeper. My excitement is palpable, and when they leave my sadness exhausting.

I sometimes wonder if my parents were this sad when I grew up. I don’t know. In their way, they loved me, but when I was kicked out and left at 18, it was really quite permanent. When I moved closer to them at different points, I visited as often as I could and enjoyed their company (and still do – my mother is 82 and on the opposite coast). But they did not ever parent me again. I have enjoyed the deep pleasure of continuing to be my children’s parent. Of course it isn’t the same as parenting that two year or eleven year old; yet they have left space for me in their lives. This, I think, is the joy and the sorrow.

Late tomorrow for two short days I get to be in the presence of some amazing people. I think I will be 25 again: I get to cook, clean up after them, play games, laugh and fill my heart with their presence. On Monday afternoon, I’ll be 54 again soon enough.