QUINAHAWK, ALASKA

Our daughter, Susan, a resident of Alaska, has often gone out into small villages in that state to give workshops to families who are caring for a "differently-abled" child. I think she has even slept on the schoolroom floor on these trips. It's a different world! 


A friend sent me the following clip. I sent it to Susan, whose response I'm including. I love the community effort exhibited in this film. I hope you'll find it 4 minutes well spent.

Begin forwarded message:

From: Susan Humphrey <humphrey.susanjan@gmail.com>

Date: October 26, 2011 9:14:33 AM PDT

To: Jane Humphrey <jane@humphreynet.com>

Subject: Re: Joyful school computer project

Yes and it still makes me smile and cry all at the same time. Quinahawk is like many villages I have spent time in.

On Tue, Oct 25, 2011 at 2:00 PM, Jane Humphrey <jane@humphreynet.com> wrote:

Had you seen this? Mom Done like you've never seen before. This video from the small

Yupiq Eskimo Village of Quinhagak, Alaska , was a school

computer project intended for the other Yupiq villages

in the area. Much to the villagers' shock, over a half million

people have viewed it. For your turn to view, Click: HERE  Runs approximately 4 minutes

THE SHIRT AND THE CELLO

I'VE BLOGGED for years now, but the bulk of the early entries were lost through corruption. I usually didn't bother to print out and my back-up technician, although much loved, wasn't always dependable (wink, wink). 

       A very few entries survived and I'm using one today. The stories actually date back to 1998 even though that was before I discovered the world of keeping a web log.

        ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There I was, winding down my day. I had bought a new shirt that day. Periwinkle blue. Linen. On arriving home, I tried it on over what I was wearing and it was so comfortable that I just left it on. When it came time for bed, the shirt was the first article of clothing I removed. Typically female, I checked the care tag, just to see what lay in store and noticed a twin tag sewed in next to the one I was inspecting. The second tag had two lines of tiny print on it:

    I am abundance.

    I am supplied.

What do you think about that? I want all my clothes to have little tags like that sewn into them. It made me feel happy, and abundant and well supplied.

I was  reminded of something else. Last night our Alaskan, 13 year old grandson played in an all schools orchestra program. He has cerebral palsy and is developmentally delayed and is being mainstreamed. Last year his teacher was eager for him to take up an instrument. Somehow a cello was  chosen. But in the middle of the winter, the teacher moved, leaving no one in her place who  had the slightest idea of how to carry on with Justin's musical training. But at this point, Justin would not be talked into discontinuing the "playing" of the cello. 

Our daughter said that he kept perfect time with the bow; his ability to finger the cello strings was questionable, but she obviously felt a huge pride that he had been able to perform with high school, middle school and elementary students in a combined effort. We sent our congratulations to Justin who was tickled to hear how proud his Granny & Papa were, and he said to his mom, "Let's not tell them about the disability, okay?" Okay, Justin, dear heart.........may you always feel abundant, supplied and very happy.


             ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


"The unread story is not a story; it is little black marks on wood pulp. The reader, reading it, makes it live: a live thing, a story."
                                                                                          Ursula K. Le Guin

COUNTRY WESTERN FAIR

OLD FOLKS have often evoked emotion in my soul. And I can't tell you exactly why. And now that I'm one of them, I still can't put it into words, but it's something about the outer shell of a person, worn and calcified, stiffened and often bent into another shape. The poignant part happens when a glimpse is caught of the younger being within. Did you ever entertain the idea that the child within is forever older than the adult?


Just as zoos make me feel sad, there's something plaintive about the caging of a free soul within an inflexible frame. Some of us manage the aging process more gracefully than others.

What prompted this rumination was something I observed at yesterday's Country Fair. After enjoying a sumptuous cook-out we found seats in the lounge and settled back for entertainment. In the years we followed the Dixieland jazz circuit, we often heard derisive complaints about banjo music, but there was no such grumbling yesterday as we listened to a banjo band from Glendora. As the first chords were played, I felt a good kind of quickening in my insides and at the same time, tears welled in my eyes as I looked around the room and saw all the tapping toes. By God, maybe we can't all get up and dance, but we can tap and we can clap and we can keep time.


The band was enjoyed so much by the residents that they played for an extra half hour, not just banjo music, but a little fiddling and some singing and a man who played the bones, a set in each hand; it set the pace for the rest of the afternoon.

We hadn't seen Jim (in the bolo tie) for three months....he'd been sequestered in his room with a severe case of shingles, but was persuaded out for the festivities. There was a feeling in the room so intense as to be almost touched; everyone seemed, felt, acted twenty years younger than their chronological age. And it continued on through the rest of the afternoon as games were played, cotton candy was eaten along with (shhh, don't tell) deep fried candy bars. The balloon artist created intricate designs, palms were read, caricatures drawn.











For the space of an afternoon, we were younger and it was wonderful.

We were urged to help ourselves to the bountiful harvest, only a third of which you see below.

The nearest lady in the video below is in her nineties.

"Will play Banjo for food,

Will stop playing Banjo for money."

MANOR PEEPHOLES

LITTLE GLIMPSES of goings-on at the Manor:

• On Fridays when we gather on the patio for wine and cheese before supper, Jack Frost gets out his harmonica and plays from his very large repertoire of songs. Camp songs, Americana, cowboy tunes, he knows them all.

Couldn't resist a shot through my wine glass.

•  This sign in the laundry room reminds me of the saying, "Can you read my lips?" or "What part of 'No' don't you understand?" I can feel the frustration in the attempt to communicate to the residents that they must store the iron upright.

• Somehow I thought they might pull the ad in the paper after Mr. Bob lost his hair and I got all puppydog sad looking, but the ad still runs once a month in three newspapers and friends keep discovering it for the first time.

• One of the things I most looked forward to doing at the Manor was working the ever-present jigsaw puzzle. Turned out it was not to be (a story unto itself, which I may or may not decide to tell you someday). We could work on one in our room if I'd just get my act together. It's the one place in life that I can create order out of chaos.

• I observed this one day last week. One of the nurse's aides was performing a spontaneous hula dance during the day's entertainment and one of the residents attempted to swat her on the backside.......out of what, I'm not sure......playfulness? irk? As it happened, she didn't connect, but I love the expression.

• Mr. Bob is on new medication.....something that helps his mood to be more mellow and coincidentally it helps one sleep at night. Well, it results in Mr. Bob sleeping on through the day. Here he's getting dressed, stopping for a nap before he gets his shirt on. True, it's hard to get angry while sleeping so I suppose one could say the medicine is working.

• The picture below was taken when Owen last visited. He was as delighted as I upon seeing for the first time that our elevators are fitted with a bench for resting between floors.

• At dinner, I turned to talk to Lorraine (facing) and Jeanne, both relatively new residents. Nice ladies, both. In fact, when Lorraine heard of Mr. Bob's diagnosis, she put her arms around me and offered to do our laundry, which was such a dear gesture, even though I didn't take her up on it.

• Two weeks ago we encountered Lorraine outside of her room. She was barely recognizable following a fall. I've never seen anyone so battered and bruised, bless her heart. I have to admit that I didn't offer to do her laundry, but we did take her our DVD player and some movies to help pass the time. We've not seen her since, but word has it that she's healing.

THREE CHEERS

THREE CHEERS for the red, white and blue!

"The American flag is the most recognized symbol of freedom and democracy in the world."                                                                                                                     ~ Virginia Foxx               ≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈ One of our residents here at the Manor, a 95 year young man, tells of being in the school band which was deemed the best in Iowa. The winning band from every state was sent to Chicago where all gathered on Soldier Field to play "The Star Spangled Banner". The conductor mounted the podium (this is the part that blows me away) and it was John Philip Sousa. The resulting sound, according to our friend, was awful. He's not overly impressed with the story, but I coax him into telling it to anyone who hasn't heard it.

MUSIC IN THE AIR

PRETTY, ISN'T IT? When the beveled glass front doors of the Manor open, it's interesting to note who flows in. Sometimes delivery persons bringing flowers cross the threshold; often it's residents back from outings; visitors, eagerly awaited or people to entertain us.

Yesterday several members of the Verdugo Hills Women's Chorus appeared, scheduled to begin singing at two o'clock.

There's something about the blend of voices in a choir that calls forth emotion. Myself, I
can't carry a tune in a basket, but I used to wish, when our kids were in school, that one of the three would be inspired to join a singing group, but it was not to be.

Every selection that the group sang was beautiful. The one that was most familiar was a medley of songs from Disney's films. I peeked over at Nadine whose husband's longtime career was with Disney and she had a wonderfully happy expression on her lovely face. It reminded me of the time we spent ten whole days at Disney World and Epcot Center. Upon returning home, my smile muscles ached from over-use for a long time..... proving that perhaps those really are the happiest places on earth.


The lady here with white hair was a frequent bookshop customer and when we first moved to the Manor, her husband was in the Health Center during his final illness. I wonder if it was difficult for her to return here, if the memories came flooding back? She gave no sign of it.

The soloists were introduced and one of them read the poem she'd written after the ceremony in which she gained her U.S. citizenship. Then the chorus sang a patriotic song. I treasure those little extra things that take place unexpectedly.

Part of my enjoyment when we go downstairs to listen to entertainment is in observing the reaction of the audience. The pictures I take of residents are important to put in the photo album. It's human nature for people to look for themselves. We try not to disappoint.