Jumpin' Off the Edge

Guns. Who should have them? Soldiers? I can't imagine anyone going to war without one. Police officers? Of course! They often go up against criminals willing to use one. Private citizens? The 2nd Amendment gives us that right. Teachers like me? It is incomprehensible when a gunman goes into a school and shoots down so many innocent. I have no doubt that the majority of teachers would do anything to protect their students. I know I would. I have been thinking a lot about the idea of carrying a gun while teaching. I have had conversations with others that believe it is the right thing to do. Guns are second nature to them. They are trained to use them. They won't go anywhere without one. I think a day at the gun range would be fun. I think  teaching kids with a gun hidden away on me would be nerve-wracking. School needs to be a safe place. This is an indisputable fact. Would it be safer if I, a teacher, were carrying a gun? I don't think so. I consider myself to be a goo

           Christmas away from my children                         school shootings                Sean                    bills                                             laundry           war              schedule                  lesson plans                                                         not running        package to mail         presents to purchase        hurtful words                   poor choices                                  Afghanistan "SHUT UP!" I yell to all the thoughts swirling in my head. They do not quiet. They are always there. Ideas for new lessons in hopes of engaging students, What life is like for Sean half a world away, When will I hear from him again? Oh no! I need to remember to mail his package. What must it be like for those 27 families in CT as they prepare for Christmas? Do I have all the presents I need to get? What will Christmas be like without the girls? Laundry, dishes, vacuuming I drive on in s

Ten days ago, I decided to celebrate the 13 days of my birthday after buying myself tickets to the upcoming Eric Clapton concert. In the days that followed the celebration of days included a free car wash, conversation with vets, a gift card from work, and a gift of Goodwill. Then the horrific school shooting happened in CT. I stopped celebrating the day of my upcoming birthday. Instead of finding what was good in my world, the negative seemed to be highlighted. The repairman was having difficulty getting our hot water heater working (three days later, still no hot water). No contact with Sean since before Thanksgiving. The stress that family can sometimes bring. Learning our landlord was still battling breast cancer and financial stress that came about as a result. The repairman going home to find his roommate dead. Throughout all of it, the 27 teachers and students of Spring Hope Elementary School in my mind. Heating water to take my bath out of a sink is nothing to the grief they ar

As a nation, we are saddened, angry, and frustrated about the events that took place in Connecticut. We look for somewhere to place the blame. Gun control. No God in schools. Mental illness. We mourn for the young lives lost and loss of innocence. Why did they have to die? Our men and women in the military know of the possibilities of death in their profession, yet they choose to enlist anyway. Firefighters and policemen know the danger, but choose to serve the public. Teachers, on the other hand, see a different job description.  We go into the job expecting to make the difference in the life of a child. We want to instill a passion for learning. We know our responsibilities will include many meetings, duties, and lots of paperwork along with the teaching. Nowhere in the job description do we ever think of the possibility of putting our lives on the line. While we sacrifice for our students on a regular basis, never do we think about the possibility of sacrificing our lives. Yet, when

When I lived in Maine, I drove by Wreaths Across America in Harrington, I didn't know what it was all about. This year, I ordered a wreath. Not just one wreath, but two. One came to me and the other was placed on a veteran's grave in Sean's honor. Today, I attended the ceremony at the Raleigh National Cemetery. Hundreds of wreaths blanketed tombstones of veterans of all branches of the military. The band began to play... As the JROTC from two area schools looked on The ceremony began with an introduction from the Daughters of the American Revolution before the flags were brought in by a local unit of the Civil Air Patrol and Rolling Thunder. The ceremony continued with a prayer and proclamation by the Sons of the American Revolution. And then came the part we all were waiting for, the dedication of the wreaths. THE ARMY NAVY MARINES AIR FORCE COAST GUARD MERCHANT MARINES POW~MIA  Pri

Since my son joined the Army    The day my son was deployed to Afghanistan, I began to comprehend a bit of the selflessness men and women of the military when they sign on the dotted line and take their oath to do Uncle Sam’s service. Before being deployed, my son and I talked about the possibility of death, loss of a limb(s), and what war can do to one’s psyche. In the six weeks that he has been over there, death and loss of limb of became a bit more real to me as I came into contact with both. Today, visiting the psych ward at the local VA hospital as a Blue Star Mother, I began to understand a bit more. I had the opportunity to serve them, sit and chat for a bit, and to join them in song. A little bit of each one of them will stay with me. To the man who talked to me every time I walked by: Even though I couldn’t understand most of the words you said, the smile in your eyes spoke volumes. Thank you for reaching out to me and taking the time to testify. At the end of

I went to church today Last year, Suzanne and I spoke of attending going Instead, I attended alone Missing Suzanne, regretting it never happened Knowing we will never attend together. After over a year of planning I went in search of another church With no idea what to expect at a Biker church My GPS couldn’t find. Arriving late, I parked in the field and walked through the doors The student who invited us last year The first person I saw.   Taking in the other sights A pool table, Plywood dividing walls, And leather jackets, each with a patch. I followed the sound of voices Into the sanctuary ~ A big room filled with Mismatched chairs. A wooden platform up front With a black and white painting of Jesus wearing a crown of thorns as the backdrop. A sea of blue jeans surrounded me as song and harmony filled the room accompanied today by an acoustic guitar. Sharing the stage, a keyboard, drum set and electric g

--> I am thankful for my hero. My son, aka Badass MOFO.   A man who chose a profession which took him halfway around the world to protect others, knowing the potential harm to him. This is the second year in a row we will not be celebrating the holidays with him with us. Yet, I wouldn’t have it any other way. This morning I ran a 5K. The worst one I have run all year. My time was super slow. I have had a nasty cold the last couple of weeks. You know the one…achy muscles, stuffed nose, coughing from deep within, and an overall feeling a fatigue. As if the cold wasn't enough, somewhere around mile two something happened to my hamstring. It was about then that Sean first crept into my head. Unbeknownst to him, he kept me running.   At the finish of the race, I made a beeline for massage table. Talk about pain! I did. I talked about it while dancing the Macarena with Sana and Patti. I talked about it when Tony told me about my time (horrible!). I talked about it d

Every night before I head to bed, I check facebook. I like to read about what my friends and family are up to. Last night’s posts were about partying, being in love, and good times. And then I read: To All Tomahawk Soldiers and Family Members, The Department of Defense released the name of our 13 Nov fatality this evening. Staff Sgt. Rayvon Battle Jr., 25, of Rocky Mount, N.C., died Nov. 13, in Kandahar Province, Afghanistan. He was assigned to the 38th Engineer Company, 4th Stryker Brigade Combat Team, 2nd Infantry Division, Joint Base Lewis-McChord, Wash. My heart skipped a beat or two. My stomach fell. For Staff Sgt Rayvon Battle, Jr. was not only from the state I now call home, he was also from my son’s company. I have been trying to write this entry for quite some time. I can’t seem to find the words to express what is going on for me right now.   Many were wounded. Is my son one of them? This war has been going on for ten years. In the past, when he

--> A trail of campaign signs guides the way to the entrance while sounds of last minute reminders of the better candidate ring through the air. There is something magical about voting on Election Day, which is probably why I avoided early voting.   Excitement builds as I walk into the school gym and make my way to the check-in table. Frustration and disenchantment with politics forgotten.             “Name?”             “Mandie Robertson-Victor.” I see her flip to the R’s and realize my name is not there. “Maybe it is under Mandie Victor,” I suggested hopefully. I know I was registered. I did it when I got my North Carolina driver’s license.             “No. There is nothing here.”             My heart sank. I needed to vote. It was my right. A right that women fought for all those years ago. A right that so many died for. A right that gave me the ability to show my patriotism.             “You can go over to the HELP table. They have the computers over there

It is hard to believe that is was only seven months ago that I ran 13.1 miles averaging less then ten minutes a mile. Today, that wasn't quite the case. I have been dreading, yet anticipating the Haunted Half 10K. Six point two miles after not running consistently in a very long time. Did I mention the hills? There were lots of them. I hate hills. (I am working on a way to come to love them. Be watching for that lesson.) A late night followed by a very early morning did not help my confidence. The bikes lined up for the beginning of the half-marathon. (You know I am dreaming of the day when I am riding on one of those!) I snapped a picture of Tony ready to run his first half and worked on getting into the zone. Not easy, by the way, when there is a cold wind blowing. Playlist set, I lined up for the race and  was ready for the starter pistol to go off. And then the zombies came. Dancing zombies! Quite a show it was! I was pretty sure I would be joining them at th

Today at 8:05am, I became the mother of a soldier. Although, according to Uncle Sam, that actually happened sometime in April in 2011. As far as I am concerned, it happened today when my Sean headed off to war. I have never been a proponent of war. I have always hated it. I have difficulty with the concept that death and destruction leads to peace. It makes no sense to me. I see the human side of the men and women entering the battlefield rather than the issue that brought about war in the first place. During Desert Storm, I was a single mother in college in Maine. Sean was a toddler.   When I think back to that time I am back at UMF eating lunch while watching the war. Desert Storm. The first reality show that engrossed us all. (Fortunately, my sailor sister was stationed out of harm’s way in Japan.) I watched in sadness as casualties mounted in Iraq. In between doing homework and motherly duties, I found time to write to friends from high school now in the military.   I also wro

Today in writing class, we told our story in the form of an encyclopedia. Thus, my blog entry tonight. CIRCUMSTANCES Tragic death of a friend. Surgery of a loved one. Conflict. Vacation. Young adults. All excuses. Yet at the time, all good reasons to stop paying attention to my body. Or so I thought. CROSS COUNTRY It starts in less than a week. I am the coach. A coach that doesn't run? That's how I did it last year. This year, I want to run with the kids. DISGUST Ugh! For the past five weeks a war has been raging in my head. You need to get up off your butt and go for a run. Nah, stay on the couch. It is too hot. You are bound to pass out on your run.   Back and forth the argument went. Cheering on the one side, yet letting the other side win. Letting myself down each time I refused to get up. ENDORPHINS I was hooked on them just a few months ago. I couldn't get my fix often enough. The high that comes after a good run. And then the crash. No running for five we

It all started while drinking a glass of wine with a couple of  friends on my birthday (the end of December). I just finished telling her I ran an entire 5K without walking on Thanksgiving after not having run for almost two years. “You should do the Shamrock Half Marathon with us! It isn’t until March. That gives you plenty of time!” I went home a bit heady from an evening of camaraderie and a good time. Before I knew it, I paid my $100 and was registered for the race. I downloaded Hal Higdon’s Half Marathon Training for a Novice to my phone and I was ready to go. My first run was a piece of cake – only two miles. (The reality of 13.1 miles had yet to hit.) Signing up for the race put me in the next level of runners. Once I was became a serious runner, I knew I needed a new pair of shoes. Little did I know the marathon I would go through finding the right shoes. The first store I went to sold me a nice pair…albeit too small. Soon the toe pain started. I ran through it. Th