Meri's Musings

I love the mysterious, flower-like and undulating nature of sea anenomes. I'm also a big fan of starfish and colorful fishes (though I draw the line at blue sharks). (This heart-shaped one is especially dear.) But because of a swimming trauma when I was in kindergarten that indelibly imprinted the panic of near-drowning into my psyche, I'll never be diving below the water's surface to see them. Once, however, with a bit of encouragement from the man I loved,  I overpowered my fear and went snorkeling off St. John in the Virgin Islands. I saw some fish and stuff, but never managed to relax while my face was underwater. Mostly, I was just relieved that I'd survived it and very proud of myself for doing something so very challenging for me. Oh -- and did I mention that  I checked "Snorkeling" off my bucket list and vowed never to do it again? (As you might have guessed, getting dive-certified isn't on my list.) In other words, I'm a sh...

You're long dead, I'm sure, because you were already ancient when I was only nine and you were my fourth grade teacher. I remember your old lady smell and the black or navy shirtwaist dresses, the thick and wrinkly support hose, the sensible black shoes with laces, your thin white hair pulled back in a bun at the nape of your neck, and the faint smell of cheap talcum powder. Remembering those things convinces me that you were truly old and it wasn't just me thinking that all grown-ups were old.  But what I wanted to say, Mrs. White, is that you had a big impact on my life.  If I had to describe that impact, I'd say that you were an icy wind that bore down on my self-esteem, leaving it nearly frozen to death. You committed more than your share of little atrocities that year, including making us memorize all the patriotic songs you knew and then write them verse by verse, spelling and punctuation counted. But the most heinous act directed solely toward me occurred...