The Power of Children

Bobbie's mother, Pat, had her academic career interrupted by getting married to Bobbie's father. Further interruptions occurred, in the person of Bobbie herself, followed by Michele, Rick and Mike. Once the challenges of raising a good-sized family began to recede a bit, Pat returned to the halls of academia to complete her education. At the age of 50 she earned her degree and obtained a teaching license. Her personal light shone through her professional life. Her gifts for connecting with and teaching children are legendary in the venues in which she applied her craft. A life-long Roman Catholic, Pat answered the call to invest her gifts in the school associated with her local parish. Teaching in a public school would have been more lucrative and perhaps offered more in the way of physical plant accoutrement's. But for Pat, teaching wasn't about money or ways to make her job easier. For her, it was about the children.The children always came first. Oh yes, she attended to the curriculum. She attended staff meetings and understood the needs of the school. But her primary concern was understanding what each child needed in order to, not just learn the material, but to succeed in life. Pat strove to inspire each child to overcome impediments to their success. She was teacher, friend, coach and loving confronter. "It's the workers, not the whiners who succeed in life," is the mantra that her students proudly, gratefully chant when they talk about their experience with "Mrs. Jackson."

Pat's twenty year waltz with cancer began to claim more and more of her energy. She eventually retired from teaching to spare the students the discomfort of seeing her decline. And yet, because there was the need, she came out of retirement. She would rather, she decided, have her students understand math and have to deal with the death of their teacher than the other way around.

Upon her passing, Pat left instructions that her surviving children use a portion of her estate to give back to the world. Teaching right through her life and into her death, Pat tutored all she could influence about the importance of hard work and sharing whatever bounty one is fortunate enough to harvest. Even in death, Pat lived out the Gospel message as she understood it. And like the few loaves and fishes passed out to a multitude on a hillside long ago, the fruits of her integrity have fed many.

Bobbie sought a use, for the portion of the estate that was hers to administer, that would be a fitting tribute to the life her mother lived. Upon learning of an exhibit proposed by the Indianapolis Children's Museum focusing on children making a difference in the world she felt "way opening" (as Quakers are sometimes known to say). The result is that Pat and Dick Jackson have helped pass the torch of making a difference in the world to children and adults they have never met.

Our family visited the exhibit for the first time over Thanksgiving weekend. Her are some of our photos. For a more professional presentation, please see:
The Power of Children

Sign at the main entrance

Police lineup


The exhibit features three children who made a difference in the world: Anne Frank, Ruby Bridges and Ryan White.

Near the end of the Anne Frank area: The sign explains that each butterfly on the wall represents 5000 children who died during the Holocaust.

Recreation of the exterior of Ruby Bridges' school.

Lauren at the head of Ruby's classroom

Jim Crow artifacts in the Ruby Bridges area.


Part of the Ryan White area.

Lauren & Bobbie as news anchors in one of the interactive exhibits in the Ryan White area.

Pray for the Indians...

as they prepare to take on the Red Sox in game 6.

Tribe on Warpath...

"Damn Yankees" defeated!





Victorious because of their righteousness and holiness (and some pretty good pitching...and then there were those clutch hits), the Cleveland Indians celebrate, tastefully at The House That Ruth Built. The Old Curmudgeon is reminded of an old boss that used to advise him that he Tribe could never really enter the post-season because they "can't beat the Yankees." It seemed he was right at the time. This recent turn of events is causing The Curmudgeon to review many of this fellow's other (many and varied) pronouncements.

The Old Curmudgeon acknowledges that staying up half the night listening to the rather faint radio signal trying it's best to reach Indiana from WTAM in Cleveland has left him rather fatigued today. Perhaps that couch in the office this afternoon if things are slow...

Indians claim AL Central crown

"The Indians came into Sunday's game with a supreme focus on locking up the American League Central Division championship in the regular-season home finale, in front of a bustling sellout crowd of 40,250 fans."
-- Anthony Castrovince / MLB.com









Rafael Betancourt struck out Mark Ellis swinging to finish it off. (Tony Dejak/AP)

As a loyal Son of Chief Wahoo, The Old Curmudgeon wishes to add: Woo Hooo!

Lauren's First British Construction Project

Lauren was excited to receive a parcel in the mail from Bath, England. Now, "Bath" is a word that strikes terror in the heart of her brother. Lauren on the other hand, immediately knew there was nothing to fear from this particular packet. It contained a scene from the city of residence of The Right & Reverends Ronald and Maurene Garner. Lauren got to work: erected the buildings and installed the townspeople. She is excited about the possibility of visiting the very location that she assembled in 2008.

Bobbie's Artwork

Sometimes The Old Curmudgeon notices the presence of wild hares where previously there had been none in a particular location. The most recent episode of this phenomenon occurred this summer when he decided to resign from the practice group that had been his professional home for five-plus years. He packed up his gear, moved down the road a ways and joined another group. His original office was quite small. Indeed, clients frequently noted that their homes had closets larger than the office. The Old Curmudgeon comforted himself with associations to Harry Potter's cupboard room. The newer office, however is luxuriously spacious. With a surplus of wall space, The Curmudgeon's Better Half became inspired to produce a series of original works to hang. Each is based on a quotation of someone dear to TOC. The Curmudgeon hopes you will enjoy them.

Summer Vacation at White Lake

Bobbie's parents retired to White Lake, MI. Their modest place was the scene of many family gatherings over the years. Though they have both passed on, the tradition continues as we spent a week there recently. It is a time to relax and simplify.

One of the first stops is always Pitkins Drug Store to pick up White Lake t-shirts or hats. Across the street is the General Store where the knowledgeable grab a bag or two of the best dark chocolate malted milk balls in many a mile.














White Lake is connected to Lake Michigan by a channel, thanks to the Army Corps of Engineers. Here are Grif and Lauren , who for the sake of this picture are each pretending to not be actively plotting the demise of the other as they stroll the beach.









Grif , believing his sister to be dead at last, begins to tunnel to China and a new life in the Orient.













A short drive to the north allows a visit to the Little Point Sable lighthouse...












which can be climbed. Here we are at the top.

That's Bobbie way down there (in the middle).









Grif excavating a small dune.












Remember "Surf City" by the Beach Boys? I don't they think ever loaded their boards into a woodie with the panache of this one by Rolls Royce, spotted at the Whitehall Wooden Boat show.










Of course, there were actually some wooden boats at the Wooden Boat Show. Nice little craft here.
















Posing for a family shot before returning to home.

The Annual Scout Camp Haircut

Last Sunday we packed up the van and drove Grif to Boy Scout summer camp. It's a nice private camp owned by Crystal DeHaan.
She and the scoutmaster go back a few years and she allows the troop to use it for their week-long camp. It is on Monroe Lake, so there are opportunities for canoing and fishing.























Grif got settled in to his tent...













and his sister paid him a little visit. He looks thrilled, doesn't he?


In the weeks before camp, a release form is sent home with regard to haircuts. It is a camp tradition to provide bizarre haircuts to the campers. The release specifies that the resulting cut will, no doubt, be one of the worst haircuts ever seen. They haven't been wrong yet.


And so, we were anxiously awaiting Grif's return to see the creative output of the clipper-happy scouts.





Upon his return home, things initially looked pretty normal, except he seemed to be missing his eyebrows... Hmmm...













Whoa! Are we looking into the future?
































Grif fancies himself as a film director some day. There may be a resemblance to Ron Howard...











He's smiling in this picture, but immediately after it was taken, he was whisked away to the barber shop for a buzz. When he did the math regarding when he was likely to need another haircut, he was not smiling so much.

He speculates that this may be the last year for the
special cut. Who can blame him. He will probably look like this soon enough, without the possibility of growing it back!

It was twenty years ago today...

At the time we were married, July 11, 1987 (when I was merely an Approaching-Middle-Age Curmudgeon), I thought twenty years seemed like a long time. As I look back on it, it seems like a very short time to be able to spend with such a wonderful woman. I think our relationship has gone rather well for two people who met and fell in love on a psychiatric ward! Little did I know that having lunch at the old Cattle Company would lead to a marriage and two beautiful children (not to mention dogs, fish and hermit crabs). Now our lives are sufficiently intertwined that I cannot imagine a world without Bobbie; fun, hard-working, loving, spiritual, intelligent, beautiful Bobbie. As time goes by, I increasingly believe that marrying her was the best thing that has ever happened to me. Today's video is my attempt to depict the woman I have been looking at for the past twenty (plus!) years.

Happy Independance Day!

Our subdivision had the annual fireworks extravaganza last night. One of our neighbors provides 45 minutes or so of pyrotechnic entertainment for one and all. Folks drive in from all around to see it. The streets are choked with automobiles parked on both sides, leaving a single-lane channel to navigate through. We are fortunate enough need merely to travel to our back yard.













Lauren found the whole affair rather tiring, as did faithful Bella.

The Old Ball Game Continues.

As Summer gets into full swing, we continue to be focussed on (what used to be, at least) the National Pastime.

Grif's game was complicated by some of his teammates being on vacation and the need to import some substitutes from other teams. Adding to the confusion, the photographer arrived late to the game. By the time the uncredited photographer finished his pop corn and chatting, the game was called due to the time limit being reached. They run a tight ship at the old ball game in these parts. Unfortunately, there is no photographic record of Grif's game at this point. The Old Curmudgeon can report that the G-Man now habitually doubles and, naturally, bats runners in. His hits have been just missing clearing the fence. TOC overheard one parent yesterday refer to him as a "powerhouse." These are words the Curmudgeon never in his life heard associated with his own performance in the batter's box.

Lauren's game, starting later, was well documented.

As you can see, Lauren has been gaining some experience as catcher. She doesn't catch many, actually, but I think she looks rather impressive in the gear.







Here's the throw to second...


Just kidding. Throwing back to the pitcher.





She is developing an unorthodox "right foot forward" throwing style that I think will join the "Fosbury Flop" as a major influence on sport technique.






Taking her turn at bat: There's a swwinnngg and a miss.












However, she connects with the next one and pelts toward first...









An error sends the first basegirl chasing the ball and Lauren rounds for second...












where she arrives safely.













That's it for now from our home away from home.