Lessons Learned from Zoolights

Year 1: Bring the stroller. That adorable little baby, the one all snuggled in your arms, about the size of a football and twice as heavy? Yeah, wait an hour or two walking around a zoo and your arms will be ready to fall off. As much of a hassle as it is to bring the stroller, if you want to be able to move the next day, it's worth it. Oh, and you are unlikely to get any good photos...

Year 2: Stroller, check. Forgot rope to strap the child in. It's like driving a grocery cart with a bad wheel. The whole thing keeps veering to the right.

Year 3: If contemplating taking more than one child and second child is an infant, leave the infant at home. They can wait one more year; they wouldn't remember anyway. And then, if Big Curl has a fit of the dramatics because she's walked more miles than a toddler should and her rain boot just fell off, you can focus entirely on her and getting that boot back on her foot.

Year 4: Make sure you go to the bathroom before dinner. Can't leave Little Curl by herself. Can't leave the purse. Leave the jackets and pray they won't clear your food while you are wrangling two little girls into the handicapped stall of the women's restroom and then preventing one from sitting on the floor while helping the other use the bathroom. Oh, and did I mention, the bathroom is outside the restaurant?

Year 5: Check that you are not going on BOGO night. And then check again. Overflow parking a highway exit away, long line for the shuttle bus, long line to buy tickets, line for the bathroom (I learned my lesson last year, always go to the bathroom first), the restaurant we usually eat at is closed for a private event (who has a private event on BOGO night, shutting down one of the few places to go inside and get warm? I'll give you a hint... Intel), long line for the Zooliner. Skipping the train in favor of food, another cafe closed, last option open (Hallelujah!), animal straws bought as prizes for good behavior, leaving the restaurant only to hear the park is closing in 30 minutes. No animals seen (not surprising, it was cold), illuminated necklaces bought as reimbursement for no train or animals, only to manage to get on the second to last train of the night. And then worrying that we are too late for the shuttle back to the car.

You still won't get good photos...

Bonus Lesson: Every year (including this one), Big Curl tells me it's the best time she's ever had at Zoolights. And this year, Little Curl gave me the biggest hug ever as I carried her from the car to the house. Every year, something goes wrong and every year our Zoolights trip is a rousing success.

But I am never, EVER taking the Curls on BOGO night again.

Silence

"Silence. That's what I'll remember: The blinds stopped shaking and banging into the windows of my classroom. The TVs hanging from the ceiling over my head stopped 'dancing'. The 65 kids in the choir all held their breath in the seconds following the horrible shaking. No voice (I was wearing a body mic because I had severe laryngitis).

Silence. A school is never silent.

Once we were outside on the field: No trains. Those trains we see multiple times an hour running right beside our campus...they run so often we aren't aware of them...until they stop.

Silence. Nothing spells disruption or disaster in Tokyo like 'no trains'."

Today is the third anniversary of the Tohoku earthquake and tsunami. Starting midday on March 10, my Facebook newsfeed began to fill with remembrances of March 11, 2011; requests for prayer, for continuing help and hope; reminders that while the world has moved on to the next tragedy, the next war, the next news story, some of us have not. Some of us will never forget, just as some will never forget Aceh or Newtown or Syria or Ukraine or Venezuela or Katrina or 9/11 or the too many other places and tragedies and wars to even mention. One person can not remember them all but each of us makes a connection to something and we remember it and that is important.

One way I choose to remember is to make sure I am prepared (as well as can be) for disaster. In Japan, September 1 is National Disaster Prevention Day (the Great Kanto Earthquake of 1923 happened on September 1; schools observe a moment of silence and nationwide earthquake drills are held). For me, my Disaster Prevention Day is March 11. I use the day to go through my emergency kit and replace any food that needs replacing. Last year, I finally bought a hand-crank radio. I've got a first aid kit, a backpack with food and clothes that I can grab at a moment's notice. I've got dog food and people food, an emergency blanket and a can opener (really important). I still have things I need to put together, like an emergency kit for work. Some people tease me for my "paranoia" but I would rather be prepared than have to walk home six miles in heels. I'd rather be prepared than wonder, how do I get to my family, where do we meet up. Shortly after the Tohoku earthquake, I remember reading some (ignorant) comment about "why bother being prepared? Japan was prepared and it wasn't enough." Japan's preparation might not have been enough to prevent everything but as bad as it was, think of how much worse it could have been. You only have to look at the 2004 Indian Ocean Tsunami where there were no plans in place and hundreds of thousands of lives were lost.  Almost 20,000 lives were lost in Japan but how many lives were saved because there were plans in place, plans that people knew and followed.

Koji Sasahara - AP

The quote at the start of this post is from my mother, her memory of the moments right after the ground stopped shaking long enough to evacuate the building. And it is true, nothing spells disruption in Tokyo like no trains. One of the specific images from three years ago that continues to stick with me (besides the countless photos of terrible devastation and loss) is of office workers in Tokyo walking home on the tracks of an elevated train. That is the only way they know to get home and with the power out, for once, there was no danger of being hit by a train. And when your world has been shaken beyond recognition, you just want to go home. It's an image akin to that of the workforce of New York, walking across the bridges after the attacks on the Twin Towers. They just want to get home.

And, as I look at before and the most recent after photos of the Tohoku region, I can see rebuilding happening but not a lot of home building. There is still so much to be done in Tohoku and they are starting to see unexpected effects. Children in areas surrounding Fukushima don't know what it is like to play outside and it's starting to affect their health and development. Hundreds of thousands in Tohoku are displaced and still living in temporary housing (houses that, size-wise, make FEMA trailers look palatial). So, please, continue to pray for Japan, for the rebuilding, for people to be able to go home.

Don't let the memory fade away into silence.

An Open Love Letter

Some Thoughts in Honor of the Multnomah County Library's 150th Year

The door swings heavy,
Solid wood,
Clear glass,
Mottled glass and rattling,
So many different doors but all lead to the same.
Library, sanctuary, help, escape, these you have been to me.

Each is different, yet each is the same.
The quiet of research, the clamor of story time.
A wall of shelves in a hidden corner,
A grand building of marble and authors.

The smell of wool
Dampened by rain.
Humanity,
In varying degrees of unwash.
Outside cares and inside woes,
All fade away when confronted by the intoxicating perfume of books.

Musty, dusty,
New and old.
Hardcovers with their crinkly cellophane wrappers,
Paperbacks with contact paper protectors.
Adventure and history,
Love and suspense,
Mystery and drama,
Limited only by the span of my arms (and the size of my overdue fines).

I stand, reading.
I sit on the floor, reading.
I would loll about, reading,
If I could,
If the librarian would let me.

O, the librarian.
Friend,
Confidante,
Disciplinarian,
Conspirator,
Upside-down reader
And right-side up thinker.

All this to say,
I love libraries,
Be they small, middlin' or large,
New or 150 years young.

There Shall a Star - The Receiving

It's the first Sunday of the year, Epiphany Sunday. It's the day we celebrate the coming of the Magi, the following of a star, and the manifestation of Christ to the world.

2012

There are many traditions surrounding Epiphany, some of them holy, some not so holy (like fruitcake throwing contests). My church has an Epiphany Sunday tradition where stars are handed out during the service. Each star is about 5 inches across and has a word written on it. We draw them out of a basket, not knowing what the word is. The word is meant to inspire thought and reflection, perhaps point us to something we need to work on or encouragement as we deal with situations throughout the year, basically give us one more way for the Spirit to communicate.

When I first started attending Westminster, I thought this was a fun tradition but didn't put much stock into it. It felt too much like horoscopes that are so vague, they could be applied to anything or like the word searches that I see circulate Facebook around this time of year. You know, the ones that say, the first three words that you see will characterize your year (by the way, supposedly, my year will be have love, money and time. Does that mean I will meet the man of my dreams, he'll be rich, and I can quit my job and just sell knitwear on the internet?).

Some of the words I've gotten in the past, no matter how I looked at them or thought about them, I just couldn't seem to find any applicable meaning to them. Words like Forbearance (2010); what exactly does forbearance mean? Was I supposed to be forbearing or was someone going to be forbearing to me? Same with Sympathy (2006). I like to think I'm a sympathetic person. But do I just think it or am I really? I don't even remember what words I got in the first couple of years at Westminster; I didn't keep them like I have the last eight.

For the last few years, the stars have been almost painfully accurate. Like the year I got Harmony (2009). Everyone at church told me, "Oh, how appropriate, a singer like you getting Harmony." Except I knew it had absolutely nothing to do with music and I was not looking forward to it. The day before we got our stars, I had been told some news by one family member that I knew would not be exactly welcomed with open arms by the rest of the family. The next six months were sometimes tense as our entire family navigated a new reality and I often felt put in the middle, trying to keep us harmonious, trying to be supportive and understanding of both sides.

2013

Or two years ago, when I got Restfulness (2012). It came as a confirmation that I had made the right choice to bow out of a few of my activities, simplify things. Also, that I needed to make my living space more restful (still working on that. Oh, and the actual getting more rest so I can be full of rest).

Last year, I got Caring (2013). When someone needed a safe place, somewhere to rest their head and get their feet under them, it was a no-brainer to let them have the guest room. I don't feel like it was much and I wish I could do more. I wish I could make all of this person's problems go away because I hate seeing them sad and frustrated and I want them to be able to live their life the way they want to, the way they deserve to.

Sometimes, the Epiphany Stars suck because they make you think and look deep, into your soul and your life. They can cause confusion and annoyance. A word can fill you with dread and worry, wondering what it means for the year. They can make you mad. At those times, I think it is important to remember, it is just a word and there's no way of knowing if it will have any affect on your year.

I look forward to getting my Epiphany Star every year. I usually don't make New Year's resolutions but I do like to have a theme for the year and the Epiphany Star is an easy way to determine the theme.

I'm not sure yet what to think of my word/theme for this year.

2014