I had another excellent day at Bikram. The rest of the day, I was at home. I had been sorting through old linens my mom left. I found one tea towel with the initials WB embroidered into it. This must be from my paternal grandmother's trousseau. Her maiden name was Walllencia Bursch. My father was born in 1903; she had been married for a least a year before his birth. You do the math. The item is still in good shape.
There were three- and four-foot table runners in that box, some machine made and some done by hand with an embroidered cut out. I have no use for them unless it's framing them and hanging them on the wall. Also, there are several laces dollies. Does anyone remember when dollies were on every item of furniture?
I had members of the family select what they want before I donated the rest. I started with Dorothy, my sister. Then I went to my niece, Karin. Mike's niece, Shivani, read what I was doing and said she would love to get some of the stuff. I hadn't thought of her because I associated these items with my family of origin. I am so glad she's interested.
B's grandson, K., was here, and I worked with him. He had delayed speech, and when he started speaking, his pronunciation was bad. I had his older brother, E., play the audio files for phonemic analysis for him while he slept. There was a pronounced improvement. Then his mom called me and asked if I would work with him on reading. He was falling behind.
K. had some memory problems and was unable to remember a word he had seen before. He had to decode every word. I showed him how to use his memory. When I worked with him today, I noticed that there was an improvement. He's still nowhere near grade level, but he remembered what he had read several weeks before. I call that good. I had E. observe as I worked with him. E. finally saw what I saw, that K. would be a fantastic student once he learned how to read. He has good concentration, picks up on strategies as they are taught, and, most importantly, is willing to make an effort when a word doesn't come to him easily.
I worked with him twice today. The second time, E. was sitting there. The first time I worked with him several weeks ago, I asked him to show E., and his sister, S., how well he could read. He was reluctant because he was afraid he would make a mistake. This afternoon, he didn't bat an eye about reading in front of E.
During our first session today, I asked him if I could call his mom so she could hear him read. His response was, no way. This evening when I proposed it, he agreed. His mom and dad were on facetime, watching and listening. I love those moments. Now, this does not mean he can read anything that comes along his way at this point. He is still reading word for word, but, and it is a huge one, he is starting to catch it when he made mistakes. I don't have to point them out.
I told his mom to have him read the texts I am sending home; these stories from the Carpenter materials are based on word families. I also recommended that when he 'reads' the materials sent home from school, she sit with him, let him read the words he can, and wait until he asks for help. When he does, to simply read the words for him. I think I can teach E. how to use decoding strategies with him. I always try to put the student at the helm. I want them to decide when they need help. Then it is for them to choose how much help: to guide them in decoding the word or do I just give them the word.
I am dreading January 24th, the first anniversary of Mike's pancreatitis attack, which killed him five weeks later. I feel I am inexorably moving toward that date and a replay of the events. I find myself bracing to stop the replay, the same way I hit the brakes hard when I see myself hurtling toward an object. I am desperately trying to stop- something. I know full well that I could have done nothing or can do now to stop events from unfolding. I also know that it won't be a replay of the same events of last year, but nothing stops that feeling of impending danger. I find myself wondering what will happen when that time passes. Once the initiating event is over, will I still be torturing myself every moment, wondering if there was something I could have done better? No, I'm not thinking of what I could have done to save him. I'm not thinking that even in my craziest moments. But, is there something I could have done to give him more comfort as he suffered? Could I have held his hand more? Could I have talked to him more? He suffered so.
Yvette and Scott came up together to talk to me about the guest room floor. Yvette said she was noticing that there's noise even when no one is there. She thinks it is from the house shifting. We decided to try screwing down the whole subfloor using that through the carpet method. I was told the screws should be five inches apart. Scott said he thought eight would be enough. He has a lot of experience in construction, and I trust his judgment. We may still have to put insulation in the ceiling. We also talked about screwing down the subflooring on the lanai, which is also over their living area. I want to get everything done now. I have zero confidence in this world, rolling along nicely in the future. We are always on the verge of a catastrophe. Things wobble, and everyone works to right things, but all it will take is one domino to fall, and the rest will follow.
I spoke to Dorothy about the situation. As children of refugees of Nazi Germany, we were raised to understand bad things can happen and often do. When we were in our fifties, we shared how both of us had been preparing to live in concentration camps all our lives. Mike assured me this could never happen in the US. I thought he had a naïve vision of what the US was about. If he had lived, he would have learned that I was right. All hell is breaking loose. I have always said if there will be a scapegoat, it will be the Jews again. It's the one group everyone hates. Now with Trump pushing divided loyalties among the Jews, Israel, and the US, he is encouraging anti-Semitism. I don't think that is his intent, but the divided loyalty issue is a big one. It means that Jews are not really Americans. It sounds like good fodder for those who hate the Jews and want them out of America; I think they are called purists. Either way, these days, every time I say good-bye to Dorothy, I am sure to say, "I love you."
I saw the end of "Virgin River," well, the end of what Netflix has already produced. It's all very Hallmark, but it is well done. They're introducing violence into the picture. Not very Hallmark of them, and I may not continue watching it.
I looked for "The Good Place,' on Amazon and found it this time. This show is pretty amazing. It is a comedy about ethics and consequences.
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