This Blue Fairy’s Life

Random stuff…straight from my head to your computer.

Sad and Free October 30, 2012

Filed under: Family,Life,Poetry,Writing — merrywether @ 8:17 pm

I wrote this poem a few months ago, after the death of my grandfather this past March. What started out to be a poem about the “new” grandma that I met post-grandpa (more of her personality, without the worry, stress, and anxiety of caring for a senile octogenarian has come to the surface), turned into my take on watching her care for my grandfather, and how everything she wanted took a back seat to her one true love’s needs. If you and I are personally acquainted, please be advised that I have not shared this with my grandmother; it’s too soon for her to see it. It may never be time for her to see it, but it was important that I write it.

Sad and Free

You have been

so angry,

so anguished,

so alone with your thoughts for

so long.


“Lena, get me a coffee”

“Lena, I need to go”

“Lena, where’s my dinner?”


A slave to your beloved sailor’s needs,

You instinctively ready your legs to move at the littlest cough;

The choking scares you witless.

You explode when the plate is pushed away after a few bites.

“But at least he ate something” we soothe.

You take it personally.

He never disliked your cooking before.

Now he wants grilled cheese or bologna.

He wants ice cream.

He has more in common with his great-grandchildren than he does with you now.


We see you are weary.

Your insistence on keeping him home pleases him

but wreaks havoc on your body and mind

Until he falls for the third time.

Three strikes and you’re out.


Sixty-five years of marriage

in a teary renewal of wedding vows,

surrounded by family,

In the nursing home.


Every day we bring you

to sit in his room.

You take walks.

You watch television.

“When the hell can I get out of this damned place?”


The new laptop gathers dust and is brought home.

The new cribbage set is tucked away in a drawer.

“We’ll play when we get home”, you say.

You know and we know that isn’t in the cards.


Seven months is a long time of begging – you bring him home.

For one week

You give him grilled cheese and bologna.

You give him ice cream.

He drinks his favorite Taster’s Choice coffee


“Lena, get me a coffee”

“Lena, I need to go”

“Lena, where’s my dinner?”

For one week.




“Lena”, he whispers now.

No more ice cream,


Grilled cheese,

Or bologna.

You both are gaunt and exhausted.

It’s time to say goodbye

To your even keel.


You are like a child as we hold you

And each other.

The stars and stripes

Laid in your arms

And a single trumpet

Herald the final sendoff

For your sailor’s final voyage back

To his Commanding Officer.


And you, grandma, as you always have

Stay and keep the home fires burning.

Sad and Free.


What If…With a Nod to Thoreau

Filed under: Life,Writing — merrywether @ 8:06 pm
Tags: , , ,

Thoreau could very well be my hero – two years of solitude and reflection on life, liberty, pursuit of happiness, faith, sense of self, living in the moment, within one’s means, one with the land. I doubt I could do it for two years, but I wonder how I would be changed if I could manage two weeks. I say “would” because I can’t see how any extended time with no one but yourself, God, and the trees could produce anything but a dramatic change in one’s thinking. Would I fall to slumber earlier in the evenings? Would I rise much earlier? The primitive and useful tasks of gathering wood, creating fire, foraging for sustenance and maintaining safe haven would surely be vitamin for body and soul and make for deep, restorative rest. What words would my mind bring to the pages of my notebook as I fish for dinner or feed the fire? Would I be satisfied, satiated, content with myself and my space, with natural air conditioning from a summer breeze, paper and pen, and the chatter of chipmunks, squirrels, wild turkeys and deer as the only world wide web in my vicinity?


Education Disaster Marinade March 26, 2011

Filed under: Political Commentary,Rant,Teaching,Uncategorized,Writing — merrywether @ 9:16 pm

Education Disaster Marinade:

dash of Glenn Beck ruminating about how teachers only work until 2:30 and get summers off

1 Tablespoon of political pundit No. 731 asserting that teacher evaluations be tied in directly with student test scores

five ounces of the Los Angeles Times publishing teacher names and labels of “effective” or “ineffective” based on test scores of students (which arguably led to the suicide of one such “ineffective” teacher)

3 pounds of the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation and other billionaire businessmen who have decided that schools should be run a la business model (and that smart kids are a product)

3 pounds of salivating U.S. politicians willing to accept the millions being forked over by said billionaires in exchange for selling our children down the river and gaining popularity with voters who have no choice but to accept the assertions of the ingredients listed above, because teachers (despite all the rhetoric to the contrary) are not lining their purses with your hard earned money, and as such, do not have funds to mount a public relations campaign the size and scope of the one the talk news folks, businessmen, and politicians have been able to weave for ratings and votes.

4 cups of National Writing Project funding (dissolved). The National Writing Project has been written out of the Federal budget. Oh, another special pet project gladly zapped out of existence in these tough times? Hardly! NWP began in California in 1974 as a small but powerful contingent of educators hell-bent on promoting the teaching of literacy by collaborating with other teachers. Now, 37 years later, it boasts over 200 local sites across the country, which partner with colleges and universities (who match the grants given to each site by NWP) to offer premier professional development to K-16 educators across all curriculum areas.

My experience with NWP began with my fellowship to the 2008 Invitational Summer Institute held by my local site, the Buzzards Bay Writing Project in Fairhaven, MA. For 16 days in July, we teachers, (who remember, are lazy – we get the summer off) shared writing, favorite authors, tips and poetry, gave demonstration lessons to colleagues, researched literacy issues, created inquiry questions essential to our classroom practice, and then researched those for possible solutions in the next school year, and networked with colleagues in districts across Southeastern Massachusetts in a way that made each of us better readers, better writers, and better teachers of writing. I returned to my classroom in the fall ready to see what my research in The Writer’s Workshop model could mean for my class of socially and emotionally impaired special needs students. The Institute gave me the time to go with my gut and research something that I thought could really work…and it did. Three years later, I’ve presented at workshops – the most prestigious being the NWP’s Annual Meeting in Philadelphia in November 2009, where I was able to network with teachers across the country who are invested in student literacy, as I am. I’ve attended conferences and continued to learn from the teachers who frequent the Buzzards Nest (as we lovingly call our office), and am now Co-Director of the Summer Institute. NWP has given me (and my colleagues) the opportunity to learn what I need to teach my students to write stronger, better, and with conviction. It is quite simply, the best professional development I have ever experienced. Aside from the Institute, I can go to my local site for Drop In Saturdays to do some personal or professional writing, bounce lesson ideas off another teacher, or help colleagues with their own research. I can present a workshop for a district in need of specific help for their writing programs. I can create professional development topics and present them to others who need my expertise. Just last weekend, BBWP partnered with our sponsoring school (UMass Dartmouth) to bring four nationally-renowned authors to campus for a brunch and authors’ talk. BBWP brought one of the authors, Sondra Perl (author of Teaching Those I Was Taught to Hate) to the Nest for lunch and a Q&A session. We had read Perl’s book as the text of our 2009 Institute and I was anxious to ask her about some of the things she wrote about. Perl is an NWP girl, too. A former director of one of the NY area writing projects, she made us smile as she told us how she felt like she was back at home being with writing project people!

So why, with all that good stuff going on in NWP, is the federal government suddenly flicking us off the budget like a piece of lint? NWP is, by today’s standards, cheap! We’re talking less than $50,000 cheap per site. Cooperating universities match the funds provided by NWP’s federal grant, and the local sites supplement that by providing quality professional development to area school districts. We’re on board with what the Federal government has imposed. We weave states’ standards into everything we do. We keep abreast of changes in education law that might affect literacy instruction. We welcome teachers from ALL curriculum areas, as writing is universal and not limited to the English Language Arts. We create sub-networks of teachers from rural sites and urban sites to address literacy issues that are specific to those areas. We take responsibility for the task of educating our children, and sharing what works to that end with the politicians who need to hear it. There is no downside to the National Writing Project.

There is a downside, however, to taking away superb professional development of teachers who are required, by the Federal government, to retain the skills essential to be “effective”. With budgets hurting in every state of the Union, local school districts are limited in their abilities to fund professional development that is effective. With NWP, you know what you’re getting, and you’re getting way more than you pay for.

This Education Marinade doesn’t taste so delightful. I think next, America, we should try a more savory stew.


Angel Girl March 2, 2011

Filed under: Family,Life,Poetry,Writing — merrywether @ 11:15 pm

It’s my mom’s birthday today. I wrote her a poem last summer – she loved it. I thought I could do better. Of course I could draft it a thousand times and still find it’s incomplete, or somehow lacking, because let’s face it, my mom rocks. There’s no one I admire more or respect greater. So I made a revision, and I offer it here as a virtual gift to my mom, an angel on earth.


Angel Girl

From humble beginnings and early loss

Angel Girl lives between Hyde Street

and Eastern Avenue

raised by godparents

with father’s help

and mother’s heavenly blessing


Mount St. Mary’s girl,

Miss Congeniality

youthful exuberance, fun-loving.

I wish I had known you then.

Would we have been friends?


Angel Girl becomes Cape Cod college girl in love

dreams and plans in place,

suddenly derailed.

Soldier boy fiancé writes home with trepidation


Wedding called off.

Angel Girl deflated.

Returns home.


Old neighborhood friend tends to

wounded angel heart –

“Marry me – I’ve always loved you”.

She always knew.


To the priest she seeks to change the date…


and the groom.


That’s Angel Girl – pure moxie!


Daughter number one arrives

Shirley Temple curls and sensitive demeanor –

Angel Girl’s sweet, little one.


Daughter number two follows;

Angel Girl’s doppelganger

with blonde hair, skinned knees,

and love of bugs and dirt.

Mother’s moxie, revisited.


Angel dad moves in.

Lives long enough

to know

his granddaughters.

Passes knowing

Angel Girl

is safe,


and needed.

He can rest now.

His legacy lives in her life well-lived.


Daughters grow,

daughters love,

daughters make Angel Girl proud.


Angel Girl creates,










Forty three years later,

still madly in love.

Everything          happens             for          a             reason.


Fruits of life

grow and divide


Divine grace enters


Three wild and wooly grandsons

sprung from daughters’ wombs,

spread brilliant, lively wings


and transform my Angel Girl Mother

into their Angel Girl Gram.


Kim Sutherland

rev 3/2/11



Changes February 7, 2011

Filed under: Family,Life,Writing — merrywether @ 10:44 pm


Shirley Temple - my nickname as a child

The new year – usually it arrives unceremoniously. This year things were different. I’m a January baby. Elvis, David Bowie and I share a birthday. I turned 40 this time ’round the sun. I’m normally not wont to scrutinize age, but still found myself telling people that I was 30 with 10 years experience upon the blessed day. I notice that I’m not alone in my minor anxiety-riddled thoughts brought on by the slipping away of my youth. Every week at least one or another of my high school and college classmates is lamenting the ominous orb of the zero in its role as clinger-on to the four. As my friend Erin quipped, “I had a ‘moment’ when I had to click on the age 40-49 button of a survey I was taking”.  I hear ya, Erin. What’s that song say? The first cut is the deepest. I sit here typing and note that the skin is just maybe a tad bit looser on my dishpan-dry hands…and the volume on the TV is just a shade too loud. It’s odd – I knew forty was coming. What I didn’t know, is that a need for introspection would accompany it. I’m not horrified, nor am I depressed. I think I’m just kinda surprised that I am now the age my parents were when I was graduating from high school. It’s bewildering. So I think back and see all that has changed in the last decade of my life. I know who I am now. I’m comfortable in my own skin. I call children “honey” and “sweetheart”. Since having a school-aged child, I attend parent-teacher conferences from the other side of the desk now. I worry less about the superficial things that used to consume me and save my worry for the serious issues that deserve my attention. Even those seem easier to manage since I pray more. I look at my career and see how my professional choices and hard work have shaped me and given me opportunities. I have no idea what my career will bring to me in the future and I’m all right with that. Ten years ago that uncertainty would have put me in a tailspin. I guess I grew up, and I guess I gained enough wisdom to know that I’m constantly learning about myself, those I love, and my world and that commitment to lifelong learning is what makes each of my days worth living. I can look matter-of-factly now at what is important. My family, my work, my writing – the things that warm my soul. For a woman who values order and organization, I have learned that changes can be good.


Dusk with Frankie August 7, 2010

Filed under: Family,Motherhood,Poetry — merrywether @ 11:32 pm

Dusk with Frankie

It ends up like this:


settled into his car seat

no radio.

I steer us toward the setting sun

The rhythmic lull of the tires

against smooth pavement

brings a slowing to the heartbeat.

The air cools,

tucks away the heat

of the shining moments

and the angst of the

tasks of daylight.

Softly, I hear from the back seat,

“mom, we are cruising through the darkness”.

Not a question, but an observation.

Off-ramp carries us home

through winding, wooded lanes

Crickets and bullfrogs

carry the only conversation now

as they prepare their evening’s work

in the employee lounge at the pond;

we think it’s a staff meeting.

As darkness spreads its arms

across the horizon

like an open parachute nearing the earth,

we scurry into the house

avoiding the buzzing of the mosquitoes

who consider us their lunch

My intrepid co-pilot climbs into bed

and is wished safe travels

for the next leg of his trip

in the clouds of his dreams.

-Kim Sutherland


Control Freak

Filed under: Life,Poetry,Uncategorized — merrywether @ 11:26 pm

One of the readings in the summer institute was a poem by Mary Oliver entitled West Wind #2. A great strategy for obtaining writing material is to share readings with one another. The reading might evoke some sort of memory, thought, opinion, idea, etc… that can be used to craft our own pieces. Mary Oliver’s piece had nothing to do with being a Control Freak, but that’s where the poem inspired me to go. I’ve printed it below. Read West Wind #2 here if you wish:

Response to Mary Oliver’s West Wind #2

Control Freak

Life is messy. That’s just the way it is. Glass breaks, car engines stall, and dinner overlooked burns in the oven. The mess, however, is important – necessary even, in creating an existence worth the constant beating of the heart in your chest. Control is an illusion one uses to create order – order which will never reach your high standards. The cat won’t stop clawing at your sofa, your daughter won’t choose the college you want her to attend, and your husband won’t stop leaving his clothes in a heap on the floor of your bedroom. Despite these glitches in your master plan, you will live. You will shrug your shoulders at your skinned knee, your son’s ripped sweatshirt, your lover’s affinity for atrociously foul-smelling pork rinds, and you will surrender yourself to this life that spins beyond your control.

Kim Sutherland 7/20/10