Those people got no bones! Bodies made of bendy straws! So cool! That’s some flex for sure!

Krump is amazing also. The energy, the rage, the ecstasy! Check it out!

Then there’s Turf. Urban ballet! So smooth, so athletic, such a story!

I love this stuff!

Thanks, Mario! Back atcha!

I know you were all wondering why there was a password protected post on this blog. It was meant as a lesson for avr, not for you. I just forgot all of you were watching. Sorry. Go back to your lives, citizens. Nothing to see here… except this:

love, chmchm

It’s official! Since I have last posted, I quit my job, got a new one and started graduate school! 

The quitting itself was long overdue and necessary, but still sad and disturbing. I loved being a teacher, and I loved my school. I learned so much and met so many people that changed me; I feel very fortunate to have had the opportunity to have been accepted into a community that I never would otherwise have had the chance to get to know and understand. I didn’t want to leave; I was forced out. To have stayed there would have been to lose self-respect, integrity, and joy. I understood the term “soul-sucking” in a way that I had not known.

I guess it took me so long because so much of my identity was wrapped up in my career and the students with whom I worked. A long time ago, a friend told me that someday I would have an after school special made about me. Of course, that’s ridiculous, and I didn’t give it much thought (but maybe Lili Taylor or Patricia Clarkson or Toni Collete or Emily Mortimer or  Katherine Keener or Amanda Peet or Justine Bateman could play me, and I would win a really big award for being amazing, and Bob Dylan would write a song about me, but nobody would understand all the words, and I would buy a small house in Whitefish, Montana and another one in France, and I would be reclusive, but super-intellectual people would find me and seek counsel with me and I would inspire paintings and poems and a song, that oddly enough, would be ska, and some real smart, totally hot musician would become hopelessly enamored by me, but I’d reject him, because I’m done with all that, and I’d go to the Emmy awards, where my after school special was nominated for three awards, and I’d meet Jon Hamm of Mad Men, and after that it’s really none ya bidness, so back off, Jackson!), but I didn’t think that it would all end with me being unwanted. All of those years ended with me handing Principal Jong-Il a form, which she signed and handed back without a word.

But…

My family supported me 100%, even when I told them I was leaving my job with nothing else lined up. My mom held me and told me I was doing the right thing, and not to worry. My sister jumped into action and made a million plans for me, and made me a special Friday night dinner with all of my favorite foods, and it wasn’t even my birthday! My dad, who can be very critical, kissed me on the forehead and told me I’d land on my feet. My brother-in-law stood at the end of the driveway and applauded my every step to the door, in slow-clap, to make it even more meaningful. I felt like Rudy. My cousins showered me with their best wishes, righteous indignation, and loving words. My family never wavered, not once, in their strength when I felt weak, their optimism when I was dark, their confidence in me when I felt unsure and shaken.

My friends told me over and over again how proud they were of me. They called from long distances and from around the corner, bringing me gifts and dinner, sending me cards  that arrive and delight unexpectedly, like butterflies in the mailbox. They reminded me of good things that I had done, and told me they would have liked to have been in my class.  They toasted me again and again until I forgot what we were drinking to. Chi Toh took me to a fancy restaurant and held my hand across the table while I cried and cried. Chm Chm left me the same message over and over again: “Did I tell you how proud I am?” Denichiwa was a mother hen, clucking over me, pecking at me to get my nest in order, Jill helped me clean out all of my files and pack my things in boxes.

Several of my students said that they would shank the principal in the third floor bathroom if I wanted, and they gave me their phone numbers to text them. Sergio, a grown 18 year old, cried like a baby, and Julio asked if we could date now, or at least would I buy him some beer. Alexis finally brought back my gray sweater with the sequins on it and told me that she felt pretty wearing it, because she thought she looked like me. They said they’d miss me, and asked me not to forget them, and to promise to be at their graduation.

My colleagues threw me a party, and Sara brought me white roses and chocolates. They said they were right behind me, and that I was brave enough to do what they wanted to do and that they respected me for refusing to be miserable, and for being a good teacher. They made me promise to be active in education reform and to try to get Jong Il fired.They used words like “admire” and “inspire”. Rickey said that when I first got there 17 years ago, he thought I was a babe, and he still thought so, but now I was something more; I was a lady, an educator, and a friend.

This could have been a point in my life that I would have found it difficult to recover from; I’m not tough or brave, and, because I have never been treated badly, I have trouble understanding why people wouldn’t be nice to me or like me. But instead, I left with my head held high, with confidence and hope. I feel proud of what I have accomplished and the the help I have offered. I discovered aspects of myself that I didn’t know existed, and I liked what I saw. Because of the people in my life, I wasn’t sunk by shame, guilt, or hopelessness. I was buoyed. I was lifted. Not only did I get my after school special, but I got to eat it with Ding-Dongs straight out of the freezer, sitting on a bean bag right smack in front of the tube!

And now I am happy. I am doing new things and learning a lot. I am being challenged, meeting new people, and am feeling creative. I’m on a small adventure and I’m excited about the future, whatever it may bring!

I end this post as I have so many others; I want to thank all of my people, with the utmost sincerity and gratitude. Because of you, I feel loved, respected and utterly secure. Because of you, I will always be just fine. Thank you for the gifts you give me. I don’t take them for granted, and I won’t waste them. I will work hard to make us proud! Yay, you! Yay, me! Yay, happiness! Here is my wish for you:

And here’s a little gift!    http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IArxakPsPE0

P.S. Additional thanks to Trixie, Bonnie, KB and Jonny Cool, Kathie, Reid, Scherry, McAdams, Em, Mario, Karen, Sharon and Robert for his good wishes from across the pond.

This post goes out to JC (not that JC!) for reminding me that it’s way past time! Thank you for caring!

Hey! Wanna know a secret?

I’m quitting my job tomorrow! Don’t tell my boss!

So, you’re probably wondering what’s going on these days in Idaho City, Idaho. (I can read you like a book! I know who you are and I know what you like to eat! Who’s been bad or good, who’s been naughty or nice! I know! You can run, but…well, you get the picture!)

Funny you should ask, because I happen to have a full report!

Ah, Idaho City! Nestled off Highway 21 about an hour outside of Boise*, Idaho City can easily be found by the Sinclair gas station that is directly across from it. (This Sinclair doesn’t have a big green dinosaur anywhere on the premises, so don’t get your hopes up.)

Recently, Idaho City was hopping! The 150th anniversary of gold discovery was celebrated this summer, so of course I went there to document the festivities for you! You’re welcome! The 458 residents of IC were simply overrun by tens of visitors who came to check out the parade, the living history reenactments in the park, the brats and beer, and the…well, that’s pretty much all there was to check out, but really, what more could you want?

Scenes from the parade:           Yeah, that’s right! Horses, hogs, harlots, Indians and the Pope! Everybody who is anybody showed up!

As you can see, the architecture of Idaho City is – how shall I put it – retro. Here’s a little background: On August 2, 1862, gold was struck in the Boise Basin, and Idaho City became a bustling center of commerce and society by December of that year. By 1863, as many as 20,000 miners had descended upon the area. At its peak, Idaho City had more than 250 businesses, including opera and theater houses, a bowling alley (the earliest and most primitive forms of bowling date back to ancient Egypt and the Roman Empire, but official rules weren’t established until 1895. You heard it here first, folks!), pool hall, law offices, barbers and lots of saloons. There was a Masonic Temple, a Catholic church, and an International Order of Odd Fellows Lodge, all of which still stand today. Idaho City was the largest mining town in the Pacific Northwest, and the largest city between Saint Louis and San Francisco.

The population was true Wild West. People, including about 4,000 Chinese immigrants, came to make their fortune off of gold, gambling, and the opportunity that comes from large groups of people making big money suddenly, celebrating good fortune, and desperately trying to defend or steal what they thought was rightfully theirs. Men went armed at all times and whiskey was cheaper than water. The jail was oftentimes full. Here are some pictures of the Idaho Territorial Penitentiary, built in 1864.

 All those nails and studs in the second picture were hand made. That’s craftsmanship! The graffiti is old school; I don’t know if you can make it out, but I think it says “E.L.+Bieber 4evah.”

There was so much rancor and discord in the town that one reporter wrote that a typical day consisted of “angels weeping, men cursing, dogs fighting, and there is murder in the midst of everyone.” Out of the first 200 people buried in Pioneer Cemetery, only 28 died of natural causes. (Special thanks for all this information goes to the Trudy’s Kitchen menu, from which I borrowed liberally. Trudy’s Kitchen, 3876 Highway 21, Idaho City, Idaho – the best meal in all of Boise Basin!) 

In Idaho City – as well as in present day Idaho – fire was a constant threat. Eighty per cent of IC burned down in an hour and a half in 1865, but was quickly rebuilt…and burned down again two years and a day later in 1867. More fires came and went in 1868 and 1871, and diseases spread.  Here is a picture of the county jail and pest house. The term (pest house, not jail – DUH!) comes from the word pestilence, which spread all through the crowded, dirty camps and communities. These pest houses were considered the best way to keep from transmitting diseases like small pox and diptheria, which were often treated throughout territorial Idaho with quinine and whiskey. In 1867 there were 7,000 people in IC, but by the time Idaho became a state in 1890, the population was down to 500.

Q. Who is hotter? Me, or this fire on the mountain that has been burning in a 130 mile swath of land for at least two weeks and is expected to continue until the rains of October put it out? A. Me! It’s me! I’m totally hotter than the fire! Idahotho, fo sho!

And that brings us to IC today! There are two paved streets in Idaho City, commonly referred to as “the one street or the other.” They run for about four blocks, but by the time you’ve reached the second one, you’re pretty much on the outskirts of town. There are a couple of bars, a lot of historic buildings, and a museum with four rooms and a video that plays on a loop. There’s a cool toy store called “Simply Fun” and a courthouse. There are a lot of antique stores (though I guess ‘antique’ is a relative term) and an artists’ cooperative. There is no Freedom Trail there, but there is a Freedom Bench.

 So I guess what I’m trying to say is, it’s kind of small. The first night I was there I stayed in the hotel. I was the only guest. I don’t think I’ve ever experienced that before! I was awakened pre-dawn by an otherworldly howling, followed by whines and cries of the local dogs. That was odd. But also cool.

The best thing about Idaho City is the people. They are the kind of individualists one would expect to meet in a place so remote and rural, but everyone seems to get along and they look out for each other. And they’re happy. They party hard and they enjoy their lives. Music floats across the dusty streets from behind screen doors and patios, or drifts out the windows of a passing truck. They are not concerned with fashions or trends, but have a great love for things of simple beauty. Several people proudly told me, “We’re here by choice!”, and they don’t complain about electricity that goes out, being housebound in the winter, spotty internet or the lack of modern conveniences or plenty of choices.

Idaho Cityites laugh a lot and often. They created a university – Idaho City University, or ICU. It’s a state school; a state of mind, that is. It’s motto is “Semper ubi, sub ubi”, which, roughly translated, is Latin for “always wear underwear.” The mascot is a sqawfish, whatever that is. As far as I could tell, the purpose of the school is to have theme parties. It’s a different twist on higher education, but one I can fully get behind.

Most of all, I will remember that everyone I talked to was really nice. They all seemed interested in meeting me and talking to someone new. They were genuine and kind. From the greasy bikers who took time out from buying lots of beer to help me pick out the perfect watermelon, to the lady at the museum “Hey! My name is Chet! Welcome! Where are you from?”, to Jennifer, who welcomed us with open arms when we arrived unannounced at her beautiful house on a mountaintop to watch the sunset. She brought out a bunch of binoculars and taught us how to zoom in on tiny, jeweled hummingbirds as they fed just feet in front of us. It was amazing! Before we left she got a phone call telling her that her grandson, Hudson, was on the cover of Vogue.

That’s how Idaho City is. You think you’ve seen it all, and that while it is quaint and interesting, there is not much to it. But it keeps unfolding in unexpected ways. It’s a lesson in keeping an open mind and happily receiving whatever may come. It’s a place where you take life slowly and look for what is right in front of you, but that you can’t always see.

What a great vacation!

*Do you see a ‘Z’ in Boise? that’s right, you don’t, cuz there AIN’T no ‘Z’ in Boise!** The true Ho’s (Ida and No, Uda – still funny, right?!) pronounce it Boy-see. It comes from a woods the pioneers saw; wood in French is ‘bois’, pronounced ‘bwah’, but Americans don’t talk like that, so Boy-see it is!

**There will, however, be a ‘z’ in the Zombie Apocalypse, at which time your vehicles will be in peril, but only in areas that are clearly marked and posted.

http://www.idahostatesman.com/2012/09/01/2253592/idaho-city-opens-its-doors.html

Super special shout out to the three R’s of my IC Education – Rhonda, Ron and Ralph! I will never forget this wonderful vacation! Here’s to many more!

Today Mitt Romney invited his friend Paul Ryan to the Republican ticket.

Don’t they look happy together? They have been friends since the mid-fifties, when they went on boyish adventures together. Oh the hijinks and shenanigans of those days! Here is a picture of the duo as kids, driving Romney’s first speed boat, which he got at the age of 12, and traded in two years later for a yacht. (It was just a small yacht – totally an appropriate size for a teenager.) 

Here’s another picture of the presidential pair when they were a little older:

  It was a simpler time, and, perhaps Romney and Ryan might argue, a better time.

It was a time when women didn’t care about their reproductive rights, when minorities knew their place, and poor people were content working any job they could get – if they wanted a job, there was one to be had – regardless of the conditions. They weren’t always whining to the government about safety and workers rights, because major corporations loved and cared for their employees and looked out after their best interests.   Poor people pulled themselves up by their boot straps and everyone got a second chance. Commies were outed and gays kept closeted.   The rich were wealthy because they work harder and smarter and by golly, they deserved it! America was a place were people could express themselves freely without fear,    and the government didn’t have to get involved with all that political correctness mumbo jumbo, like all that hooey about the precious, delicate earth, or organic foods http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QyfCxrKW3XY, or any of that crap.

Of course, I speculate. How do I know what the Romney Ryan team want? All I have to go on is their actual words. Here is what Paul Ryan said in his acceptance speech today:

But America is more than just a place…it’s an idea. It’s the only country founded on an idea. Our rights come from nature and God, not government. We promise equal opportunity, not equal outcomes.

I’m sure many countries might disagree that America is the only country founded on an “idea” or guiding principle, but I won’t quibble with that logic. I have some questions about our rights coming from Nature and God.

Like in nature, isn’t it the right of the weak to destroy the strong? Snakes are free to steal eggs from nests and eat them, right? Do I have the right to invade another’s home,and  kidnap and cannibalize his young simply because it’s my nature? Should humans have the power to prey on each other just because they can?

And God…which God are we talking, here? I’m not going to argue about the existence or the word of God, but humans have had a spectacular record of using religion and righteousness for cruelty, exclusivity and atrocity, from well before the Inquisition to well after 9/11. Under God’s laws do homosexuals have rights? Do women? Children? Do the wicked? Is George Bush still The Decider?

I think the rhetoric of today that is becoming increasingly common and acceptable is scary.

Yup. That’s what I think.

Look at the remarkable restraint I showed by not posting these pictures!

P.S. Don’t you just love the word “quibble”?