Potential life lessons of burlesque dancing
Burlesque dancing may be in my future.
Some of us gals at The Smoky Mountain News have been invited to attend a burlesque dance class. As we were mulling around the idea recently, I told them I could only do it on a weekend my boys were with their dad.
When the universe offers gifts, unwrap them
The final school bells have rung.
When I was teaching, the last few weeks of school were grueling and felt never-ending. Once students were finished with end-of-grade testing, they kind of went wild, as if they’d held it together all that time and could no longer maintain their instinctive desire to run, jump and talk nonstop.
The magic of New York City
I was seven years old when my parents first took me to New York. We couldn’t afford to stay in the city so we rented out part of a home in New Jersey and commuted to Manhattan. These were the days before Airbnb and VRBO, so I commend my parents for being resourceful enough to find a way for us to make the trip, despite a tight budget.
Remembering Riley as a seventh-grader, during Teacher Appreciation Week
The thing I miss about teaching is human connection, being part of something bigger than myself.
When I was in the classroom, I bemoaned the exhaustive red tape that is public education. It’s an antiquated system when it comes to encouraging teachers to do better, be better.
A bucket list full of dreams
Late in life, my mom created a bucket list. It wasn’t in response to her cancer diagnosis, but once she passed away, the list became serendipitous.
One item on her list said, “Take a trip to Africa.”
You can’t please them all
I’ve learned it’s impossible to make everyone happy.
This column has been a part of my life for a number of years. I remember my first meeting with Scott McLeod, the publisher of The Smoky Mountain News. We met for coffee to discuss how the column would manifest. There’d been only a handful of female columnists before me and he wanted a woman’s voice included in the Opinion section of the paper.
A time of waiting and yearning
I’m sick of looking at a pair of stylish winter boots sitting beside my bedroom door. I have other cold-weather shoes, but these gray boots seem to go with almost every outfit and also stay dry in the wetness that has become the meteorological norm as of late. Each time I pull these boots over socked feet, I’m reminded that spring has still not quite sprung.
Learning to live with intention
Ever had a life-changing book fall into your literal hands? This happened to me recently.
I order my favorite rare, organic products through an online company called Thrive Market. I’m offered a free gift with each order. About five months ago, I received powdered collagen, which has since become all the rage with folks trying to preserve their skin, hair, bones and joints. Now, I’m hooked on it.
Great schools, staff are community assets
Both my parents were teachers. My earliest memories are of my dad sitting at our dining room table grading papers or writing grants. Once I started school, my afternoon routine was to hang out in the media center at my mom’s school, munching on snacks from the vending machine, while she wrapped up for the day.
Sandburg’s words are needed now more than ever
When my mom was living, she owned a tour company called Southern Comfort Tours. She opened the business in her 60s after retiring from 30 years in education. It was a lifelong dream and she made it happen.
Along with extensive trips, she offered small day trips around Western North Carolina and other areas of the Southeast. One of her day trips was to Hendersonville where she would take guests to places like Flat Rock Playhouse, Highland Lake Inn and the Carl Sandburg home. She loved talking about her itineraries and chattering about this location or that venue.