Friday, September 21, 2007
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Food For Thought...
At the prodding of my friends, I am writing this story. My name isMildred Hondorf. I am a former elementary school music teacher from
Des Moines, Iowa. I've always supplemented my income by teaching piano
lessons-something I've done for over 30 years.
Over the years I found that children have many levels of musical
ability. I've never had the pleasure of having a prodigy though I have
taught some talented students. However I've also had my share of what
I call "musically challenged" pupils. One such student was Robby.
Robby was 11 years old when his mother (a single mom) dropped him offfor his first piano lesson. I prefer that students (especially boys!)begin at an earlier age, which I explained to Robby. But Robby said
that it had always been his mother's dream to hear him play the piano.
So I took him as a student. Well, Robby began with his piano lessons
and from the beginning I thought it was a hopeless endeavor. As muchas Robby tried, he lacked the sense of tone and basic rhythm needed toexcel. But he dutifully reviewed his scales and some elementary pieces
that I require all my students to learn.
Over the months he tried and tried while I listened and cringed and
tried to encourage him. At the end of each weekly lesson he'd always
say, "My mom's going to hear me play some day." But it seemed
hopeless. He just did not have any inborn ability. I only knew his
mother from a distance as she dropped Robby off or waited in her aged
car to pick him up. She always waved and smiled but never stopped in.
Then one day Robby stopped coming to our lessons. I thought about
calling him but assumed because of his lack of ability, that he had
decided to pursue something else. I also was glad that he stopped
coming. He was a bad advertisement for my teaching!
Several weeks later I mailed to the student's homes a flyer on the
upcoming recital. To my surprise Robby (who received a flyer) asked me
if he could be in the recital. I told him that the recital was for
current pupils and because he had dropped out he really did notqualify. He said that his mother had been sick and unable to take him
to piano lessons but he was still practicing. "Miss Hondorf .... I've
just got to play!" he insisted. I don't know what led me to allow him
to play in the recital. Maybe it was his persistence or maybe it was
something inside of me saying that it would be all right.
The night for the recital came. The high school gymnasium was packed
with parents, friends and relatives. I put Robby up last in the
program before I was to come up and thank all the students and play a
finishing piece. I thought that any damage he would do would come at
the end of the program and I could always salvage his poor performance
through my "curtain closer."
Well the recital went off without a hitch. The students had been
practicing and it showed. Then Robby came up on stage. His clothes
were wrinkled and his hair looked like he'd run an egg-beater through
it. "Why didn't he dress up like the other students?" I thought. "Why
didn't his mother at least make him comb his hair for this specialnight?"
Robby pulled out the piano bench and he began. I was surprised when he
announced that he had chosen Mozart's Concerto #21 in C Major. I was
not prepared for what I heard next. His fingers were light on the
keys, they even danced nimbly on the ivories. He went from pianissimoto fortissimo...from allegro to virtuoso. His suspended chords that
Mozart demands were magnificent! Never had I heard Mozart played so
well by people of his age.
After six and a half minutes he ended in a grand crescendo and
everyone was on their feet in wild applause. Overcome and in tears I
ran up on stage and put my arms around Robby in joy. "I've never heard
you play like that Robby! How'd you do it? " Through the microphoneRobby explained: "Well Miss Hondorf, remember I told you my mom was
sick? Well, actually she had cancer and passed away this morning. And
well, she was born deaf so tonight was the first time she ever heard
me play. I wanted to make it special."
There wasn't a dry eye in the house that evening. As the people from
Social Services led Robby from the stage to be placed into fostercare, I noticed that even their eyes were red and puffy and I thought
to myself how much richer my life had been for taking Robby as my
pupil.
No, I've never had a prodigy but that night I became a prodigy, of
Robby's. He was the teacher and I was the pupil. For it is he who
taught me the meaning of perseverance and love and believing in
yourself and maybe even taking a chance in someone and you don't know
why.
Robby was killed in the senseless bombing of the Alfred P. Murrah
Federal Building in Oklahoma City in April of 1995.
Des Moines, Iowa. I've always supplemented my income by teaching piano
lessons-something I've done for over 30 years.
Over the years I found that children have many levels of musical
ability. I've never had the pleasure of having a prodigy though I have
taught some talented students. However I've also had my share of what
I call "musically challenged" pupils. One such student was Robby.
Robby was 11 years old when his mother (a single mom) dropped him offfor his first piano lesson. I prefer that students (especially boys!)begin at an earlier age, which I explained to Robby. But Robby said
that it had always been his mother's dream to hear him play the piano.
So I took him as a student. Well, Robby began with his piano lessons
and from the beginning I thought it was a hopeless endeavor. As muchas Robby tried, he lacked the sense of tone and basic rhythm needed toexcel. But he dutifully reviewed his scales and some elementary pieces
that I require all my students to learn.
Over the months he tried and tried while I listened and cringed and
tried to encourage him. At the end of each weekly lesson he'd always
say, "My mom's going to hear me play some day." But it seemed
hopeless. He just did not have any inborn ability. I only knew his
mother from a distance as she dropped Robby off or waited in her aged
car to pick him up. She always waved and smiled but never stopped in.
Then one day Robby stopped coming to our lessons. I thought about
calling him but assumed because of his lack of ability, that he had
decided to pursue something else. I also was glad that he stopped
coming. He was a bad advertisement for my teaching!
Several weeks later I mailed to the student's homes a flyer on the
upcoming recital. To my surprise Robby (who received a flyer) asked me
if he could be in the recital. I told him that the recital was for
current pupils and because he had dropped out he really did notqualify. He said that his mother had been sick and unable to take him
to piano lessons but he was still practicing. "Miss Hondorf .... I've
just got to play!" he insisted. I don't know what led me to allow him
to play in the recital. Maybe it was his persistence or maybe it was
something inside of me saying that it would be all right.
The night for the recital came. The high school gymnasium was packed
with parents, friends and relatives. I put Robby up last in the
program before I was to come up and thank all the students and play a
finishing piece. I thought that any damage he would do would come at
the end of the program and I could always salvage his poor performance
through my "curtain closer."
Well the recital went off without a hitch. The students had been
practicing and it showed. Then Robby came up on stage. His clothes
were wrinkled and his hair looked like he'd run an egg-beater through
it. "Why didn't he dress up like the other students?" I thought. "Why
didn't his mother at least make him comb his hair for this specialnight?"
Robby pulled out the piano bench and he began. I was surprised when he
announced that he had chosen Mozart's Concerto #21 in C Major. I was
not prepared for what I heard next. His fingers were light on the
keys, they even danced nimbly on the ivories. He went from pianissimoto fortissimo...from allegro to virtuoso. His suspended chords that
Mozart demands were magnificent! Never had I heard Mozart played so
well by people of his age.
After six and a half minutes he ended in a grand crescendo and
everyone was on their feet in wild applause. Overcome and in tears I
ran up on stage and put my arms around Robby in joy. "I've never heard
you play like that Robby! How'd you do it? " Through the microphoneRobby explained: "Well Miss Hondorf, remember I told you my mom was
sick? Well, actually she had cancer and passed away this morning. And
well, she was born deaf so tonight was the first time she ever heard
me play. I wanted to make it special."
There wasn't a dry eye in the house that evening. As the people from
Social Services led Robby from the stage to be placed into fostercare, I noticed that even their eyes were red and puffy and I thought
to myself how much richer my life had been for taking Robby as my
pupil.
No, I've never had a prodigy but that night I became a prodigy, of
Robby's. He was the teacher and I was the pupil. For it is he who
taught me the meaning of perseverance and love and believing in
yourself and maybe even taking a chance in someone and you don't know
why.
Robby was killed in the senseless bombing of the Alfred P. Murrah
Federal Building in Oklahoma City in April of 1995.
Saturday, June 16, 2007
Sunday, June 10, 2007
In the 1500's
The next time you are washing your hands and complain because the water temperature isn't just how you like it, think about how things used to be. Here are some facts about the1500s:
These are interesting...
Most people got married in June because they took their yearly bath in May, and still smelled pretty good by June. However, they were starting to smell, so brides carried a bouquet of flowers to hide the body odor. Hence the custom today of carrying a bouquet when getting married.
Baths consisted of a big tub filled with hot water. The man of the house had the privilege of the nice clean water, then all the other sons and men, then the women and finally the children. Last of all the babies. By then the water was so dirty you could actually lose someone in it. Hence the saying, Don't throw the baby out with the Bath water...
Houses had thatched roofs-thick straw-piled high, with no wood underneath. It was the only place for animals to get warm, so all the cats and other small animals (mice, bugs) lived in the roof. When it rained it became slippery and sometimes the animals would slip and fall off the roof. Hence the saying It's raining cats and dogs.
There was nothing to stop things from falling into the house.. This posed a real problem in the bedroom where bugs and other droppings could mess up your nice clean bed. Hence, a bed with big posts and a sheet hung over the top afforded some protection. That's how canopy beds came into existence.
The floor was dirt. Only the wealthy had something other than dirt. Hence the saying, Dirt poor. The wealthy had slate floors that would get slippery in the winter when wet, so they spread thresh (straw) on floor to help keep their footing. As the winter wore on, they added more thresh until, when you opened the door, it would all start slipping outside. A piece of wood was placed in the entrance way. Hence the saying a thresh hold.
Getting quite an education, aren't you?
In those old days, they cooked in the kitchen with a big kettle that always hung over the fire. Every day they lit the fire and added things to the pot. They ate mostly vegetables and did not get much meat. They would eat the stew for dinner, leaving leftovers in the pot to get cold overnight and then start over the next day. Sometimes stew had food in it that had been there for quite a while. Hence the rhyme, Peas porridge hot, peas porridge cold, peas porridge in the pot nine days old...
Sometimes they could obtain pork, which made them feel quite special. When visitors came over, they would hang up their bacon to show off. It was a sign of wealth that a man could, bring home the bacon. They would cut off a little to share with guests and would all sit around and chew the fat...
Those with money had plates made of pewter. Food with high acid content caused some of the lead to leach onto the food, causing lead poisoning death. This happened most often with tomatoes, so for the next 400 years or so, tomatoes were considered poisonous.
Bread was divided according to status. Workers got the burnt bottom of the loaf, the family got the middle, and guests got the top, or the upper crust.
Lead cups were used to drink ale or whiskey. The combination would sometimes knock the imbibers out for a couple of days. Someone walking along the road would take them for dead and prepare them for burial. They were laid out on the kitchen table for a couple of days and the family would gather around and eat and drink and wait and see if they would wake up. Hence the custom of holding a wake.
England is old and small and the local folks started running out of places to bury people. So they would dig up coffins and would take the bones to a bone-house, and reuse the grave. When reopening these coffins, 1 out of 25 coffins were found to have scratch marks on the inside and they realized they had been burying people alive. So they would tie a string on the wrist of the corpse, lead it through the coffin and up through the ground and tie it to a bell. Someone would have to sit out in the graveyard all night (the graveyard shift.) to listen for the bell; thus, someone could be, saved by the bell or was considered a dead ringer.
And that's the truth...Now, whoever said History was boring? Educate someone. Share these facts with a friend.
These are interesting...
Most people got married in June because they took their yearly bath in May, and still smelled pretty good by June. However, they were starting to smell, so brides carried a bouquet of flowers to hide the body odor. Hence the custom today of carrying a bouquet when getting married.
Baths consisted of a big tub filled with hot water. The man of the house had the privilege of the nice clean water, then all the other sons and men, then the women and finally the children. Last of all the babies. By then the water was so dirty you could actually lose someone in it. Hence the saying, Don't throw the baby out with the Bath water...
Houses had thatched roofs-thick straw-piled high, with no wood underneath. It was the only place for animals to get warm, so all the cats and other small animals (mice, bugs) lived in the roof. When it rained it became slippery and sometimes the animals would slip and fall off the roof. Hence the saying It's raining cats and dogs.
There was nothing to stop things from falling into the house.. This posed a real problem in the bedroom where bugs and other droppings could mess up your nice clean bed. Hence, a bed with big posts and a sheet hung over the top afforded some protection. That's how canopy beds came into existence.
The floor was dirt. Only the wealthy had something other than dirt. Hence the saying, Dirt poor. The wealthy had slate floors that would get slippery in the winter when wet, so they spread thresh (straw) on floor to help keep their footing. As the winter wore on, they added more thresh until, when you opened the door, it would all start slipping outside. A piece of wood was placed in the entrance way. Hence the saying a thresh hold.
Getting quite an education, aren't you?
In those old days, they cooked in the kitchen with a big kettle that always hung over the fire. Every day they lit the fire and added things to the pot. They ate mostly vegetables and did not get much meat. They would eat the stew for dinner, leaving leftovers in the pot to get cold overnight and then start over the next day. Sometimes stew had food in it that had been there for quite a while. Hence the rhyme, Peas porridge hot, peas porridge cold, peas porridge in the pot nine days old...
Sometimes they could obtain pork, which made them feel quite special. When visitors came over, they would hang up their bacon to show off. It was a sign of wealth that a man could, bring home the bacon. They would cut off a little to share with guests and would all sit around and chew the fat...
Those with money had plates made of pewter. Food with high acid content caused some of the lead to leach onto the food, causing lead poisoning death. This happened most often with tomatoes, so for the next 400 years or so, tomatoes were considered poisonous.
Bread was divided according to status. Workers got the burnt bottom of the loaf, the family got the middle, and guests got the top, or the upper crust.
Lead cups were used to drink ale or whiskey. The combination would sometimes knock the imbibers out for a couple of days. Someone walking along the road would take them for dead and prepare them for burial. They were laid out on the kitchen table for a couple of days and the family would gather around and eat and drink and wait and see if they would wake up. Hence the custom of holding a wake.
England is old and small and the local folks started running out of places to bury people. So they would dig up coffins and would take the bones to a bone-house, and reuse the grave. When reopening these coffins, 1 out of 25 coffins were found to have scratch marks on the inside and they realized they had been burying people alive. So they would tie a string on the wrist of the corpse, lead it through the coffin and up through the ground and tie it to a bell. Someone would have to sit out in the graveyard all night (the graveyard shift.) to listen for the bell; thus, someone could be, saved by the bell or was considered a dead ringer.
And that's the truth...Now, whoever said History was boring? Educate someone. Share these facts with a friend.
Friday, June 1, 2007
Cow Corp. stories
TRADITION CORPORATION
You have two cows.
You sell one and buy a bull.
Your herd multiplies and the economy grows.
You sell them and retire on the income.
AN AMERICAN CORPORATION
You have two cows.
You sell one and force the other to produce the milk of four cows.
You are surprised when the cow drops dead.
A FRENCH CORPORATION
You have two cows.
You go on strike because you want three cows.
A JAPANESE CORPORATION
You have two cows.
You redesign them so they are one-tenth the size of an ordinary cow and
produce twenty times the milk.
You then create clever cow cartoon images called 'Cowkimon' and market them
World-Wide.
A GERMAN CORPORATION
You have two cows.
You re-engineer them so they live for 100 years, eat once a month, and milk
themselves.
A BRITISH CORPORATION
You have two cows.
Both are mad.
An ITALIAN CORPORATION
You have two cows, but you don't know where they are.
You break for lunch and forget about the cows
A SWISS CORPORATION
You have 5,000 cows and none of which belong to you.
You charge others for storing them.
A CHINESE CORPORATION
You have two cows.
You have 300 people milking them.
You claim full employment and high bovine productivity.
You have the newsman who reported on the numbers arrested.
AN INDIAN CORPORATION
You have two cows.
You worship them.
A MALAYSIAN CORPORATION
You have two cows.
You signed a 40-year contract to supply milk at RM0.06 per litre. Then
midway through, you raised the price to RM0.60 or you cut the supply. When
the buyer agrees to the new price, you change your mind again and now want
RM1.20. The buyer decided you can keep the milk and they go look for milk
that comes from recycled cows or the cow urine instead. Your two cows
retire together with the Prime Minister with all the shit around him.
A SINGAPOREAN CORPORATION
You have two cows.>
One cow-peh and one cow-bu.
You have two cows.
You sell one and buy a bull.
Your herd multiplies and the economy grows.
You sell them and retire on the income.
AN AMERICAN CORPORATION
You have two cows.
You sell one and force the other to produce the milk of four cows.
You are surprised when the cow drops dead.
A FRENCH CORPORATION
You have two cows.
You go on strike because you want three cows.
A JAPANESE CORPORATION
You have two cows.
You redesign them so they are one-tenth the size of an ordinary cow and
produce twenty times the milk.
You then create clever cow cartoon images called 'Cowkimon' and market them
World-Wide.
A GERMAN CORPORATION
You have two cows.
You re-engineer them so they live for 100 years, eat once a month, and milk
themselves.
A BRITISH CORPORATION
You have two cows.
Both are mad.
An ITALIAN CORPORATION
You have two cows, but you don't know where they are.
You break for lunch and forget about the cows
A SWISS CORPORATION
You have 5,000 cows and none of which belong to you.
You charge others for storing them.
A CHINESE CORPORATION
You have two cows.
You have 300 people milking them.
You claim full employment and high bovine productivity.
You have the newsman who reported on the numbers arrested.
AN INDIAN CORPORATION
You have two cows.
You worship them.
A MALAYSIAN CORPORATION
You have two cows.
You signed a 40-year contract to supply milk at RM0.06 per litre. Then
midway through, you raised the price to RM0.60 or you cut the supply. When
the buyer agrees to the new price, you change your mind again and now want
RM1.20. The buyer decided you can keep the milk and they go look for milk
that comes from recycled cows or the cow urine instead. Your two cows
retire together with the Prime Minister with all the shit around him.
A SINGAPOREAN CORPORATION
You have two cows.>
One cow-peh and one cow-bu.
Monday, May 14, 2007
How did Mother's Day begin?
I just found this article by chance, some Yahoo advertisement about Mother's Day...
Mothers (most of 'em anyway) are great. They're loving and selfless and will stand behind their kids no matter how damning the prosecution's evidence. For these reasons and more, a woman named Anna M. Jarvis started the Mother's Day tradition in the early 20th century.
Ms. Jarvis, though never a mother herself, was extremely devoted to her own mom. After the elder Jarvis passed away in 1905, Anna began seeking ways to honor not only her own mom, but all mothers. She started by organizing a Mother's Day Memorial Committee at her local church, but that was just the beginning.
Over the years, Jarvis wrote letters and gave speeches pushing for a national holiday. Alas, the vast majority "fell on deaf ears." Still, Jarvis pressed on, and by 1909, "forty-five states, Puerto Rico, Hawaii, Canada and Mexico observed the day." In 1914, a resolution was passed by Congress and approved by President Woodrow Wilson, declaring the second Sunday in May as Mother's Day. The holiday has been around ever since.
It's worth noting that Jarvis wanted to keep Mother's Day from becoming commercialized. Obviously she wasn't able to do that, but you can still celebrate the way Ms. Jarvis intended -- skip the overpriced flowers and just spend a little time with Mom instead
Sunday, May 13, 2007
Mama you...
Its was exactly a year ago that I recieved an email from Sher. It was a poem fit for Mother's Day, written by her friend. (Hope you dont mind sher? :) She said "It kind of hits chords you never knew they might because it's so so honest..." Well, I think so too ;p
Mama you raised me right...
From the cradle of your arms you taught me love
With every tear that i shed you showed me that
sometimes real men need to cry
for it is in their weakness they will find strength
Your very essence flows through me,
nutured in a perfect womb
4eva a part of me as i chart a path in this life
safe in your endless prayers and never failing thoughts,
i love you 4 always, my queen - the best part of me...
As we write our 'mother - son book'
there have been pages of hurt and pain
but they conclude with chapters of our unfaltering love
our endless bond - fashioned from Heaven
I may be gone for many seasons
but from you i am never far
for i feel u with every beat of my heart
and face the tomorrows guided by the foundation that you lay
preparing for the struggle of being a better man and triumph
of making you proud...
because Mama you raised me right.
Mama you raised me right...
From the cradle of your arms you taught me love
With every tear that i shed you showed me that
sometimes real men need to cry
for it is in their weakness they will find strength
Your very essence flows through me,
nutured in a perfect womb
4eva a part of me as i chart a path in this life
safe in your endless prayers and never failing thoughts,
i love you 4 always, my queen - the best part of me...
As we write our 'mother - son book'
there have been pages of hurt and pain
but they conclude with chapters of our unfaltering love
our endless bond - fashioned from Heaven
I may be gone for many seasons
but from you i am never far
for i feel u with every beat of my heart
and face the tomorrows guided by the foundation that you lay
preparing for the struggle of being a better man and triumph
of making you proud...
because Mama you raised me right.
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