New School Year/New School Home

These last two weeks have been hard. Loverman has taken on a second gig and we’re all adjusting to his new schedule. The kids don’t go back to school until September 15 because we’re moving into a new building and due to the construction schedule the school didn’t receive its certificate of occupancy until September 1st. It got so hectic with trying to get childcare, I decided to simply use some of my vacation time and stay home with the kids for the remainder of the week. I’ve been home with them since Tuesday.

We had an opportunity to tour the new facility earlier this evening. I couldn’t wait to see it because the building we’re moving into was once Durham Elementary and both my mom and her older sister attended Durham when they were children. It’s fabulous! Bright colors, big windows that open, and a new cafeteria with our own chef Gus to cook wholesome, fresh food for our kids, it’s more than I could ever imagine.

Located at 1600 Lombard Street in Center City, this building is 100% better than where we were. It’s a charter school founded 8 years ago and since its inception, it’s been housed in a building originally used as office space. In fact, the building is the designated FEMA headquarters for Philadelphia and the surrounding counties. So, the students were safe from hurricanes or a terrorist or nuclear attack, but there were numerous challenges not conducive for growing children. The windows didn’t open, the HVAC system was suspect and there was no dedicated outdoor space just for the school’s students. For recess activities, the school used Washington Square, a short walk from the school and an historic landmark that was once a burial ground during colonial times. It worked for a while and the administrators and teachers made the best out of a difficult situation, but with the school’s rapid growth, it reminded me of the old lady who lived in a shoe… We had simply outgrown our original home.

I recently rotated off the school’s board, but during my two-year tenure, most of the board’s energy had been consumed with deciding whether or not to move. For me, this wasn’t really a difficult decision, if we had the resources to move to a more appropriate space, and a detailed plan to execute the move, then I was all for it. In fact, I was surprised that there were even parents who opposed the move. But, for many families the school’s space challenge was trumped by its location right smack in the middle of city’s Independence Mall. The building was less than a block away from the Liberty Bell, Betsy Ross' House, Carpenters' Hall and the new National Constitution Center. Our new home is a whopping nine blocks from this cradle of America’s birthplace. But, what we may have loss in immediate access to historical hotspots, we’ve gained in spades with a facility designed to meet the needs of a progressive learning environment.

Acquiring, rehabbing and preparing the school for Monday’s opening have done wonders in reinforcing the school’s sense of community. A parent of a student in Olivia’s class is an architect and the school hired her to oversee the entire project. Another parent has a moving company and the school hired him to move us from one building to the other. Every step of the way the school’s board and administration did their very best to ensure that as many voices as possible were at the table to create this dynamic space. A group of parents even worked together with the school’s principal to secure a KaBoom grant and later next month, the school’s community will join employees of IBM and SAP to build a world-class playground, one of the numerous wish-list items we wouldn’t have been able to fulfill without additional financial support.

Walking through the school’s hall this evening, I was overwhelmed by the intangible benefits the school and its students will reap from its new location. It’s almost like we’ve walked into our first home, with all the pride and pregnant anticipation that comes with home ownership.

A Little Perspective

On New Stands Now

Shameless Self-Promotion Alert! Mango Mama and her lovely book club buddies are showcased in the current issue of O Home. I’ll admit, I’m buggin’ a bit, appearing in the same publication as the Divine Miss O, but more importantly, I hope folks will check out the book featured with our story, What is the What by David Eggers, because it’s an incredible story and all proceeds go to aiding the Sudanese in America and Sudan through the Valentino Achak Deng Foundation.

So check out the Fall 2008 issue of O Home, and our feature, A Novel Affair, and be sure to let me know if you can figure out which one of us is me--- Mango Mama!

The Clampett's Go to Washington

On Friday, I simply blew it off as a campaign stunt. McCain’s selection of Sarah Palin as his vice presidential running mate came out of left field, but at first glance it could have been written off as McCain trying to shake things up, adding youth to those concerned with the Republican nominee’s advanced age; securing the party’s conservative base.

By Saturday, I began to get a sinking feeling that this is more Machiavellian than a campaign stunt. It’s been reported McCain had only spoken with Palin once and had only one face-to-face prior to her selection as his running mate. He knows her about as much as I know the guy who delivers our monthly treat of Chinese take-out. Here’s a man who’s been trumpeting the importance of experience, soliciting the services of a woman who’s been governor of Alaska for less than two years and who didn’t own a passport prior to becoming governor.

The Republican talking points touting Palin’s qualifications include she’s the mother of five, with a staunch conservative background, executive experience, and she’s not a Washington insider. She’s pro-life, a lifelong card carrying member of the NRA, and a hunter who is known to head out to the Alaskan tundra, shoot, skin and prepare a moose for a hearty stew dinner. Palin was also a runner-up in the 1984 Miss Alaska Pageant, and former star on her high school basketball team. She holds a B.S. in Journalism from the University of Idaho and has no additional advanced degrees.

Are we supposed to believe McCain decided on his own to throw caution to the wind and select Palin for his running mate? I think not! In fact, if I was John McCain and somehow I found myself winning in the general election, I’d sleep with one eye open because the powers that be are looking to have someone under they’re total control and Maverick Man, you may not fit the bill. This uniquely unqualified broad is simply a prop and for those of us who have been befuddled by how in the hell George W. won two terms as President of the U.S., Palin’s ascension as the potential second-in-command should not be taken lightly. There is definitely something funky afoot.

Today we learned Palin’s 17 year-old daughter, Bristol, is five months pregnant and this is on the heels of the recent birth of Palin’s five-month old son, Trig, who was born with Down’s Syndrome. It’s also been mentioned that Palin as an additional special needs child. While I do applaud the woman’s ability to multi-task, it would seem her plate is beyond full and maybe more of her attention is required at home; and as much as I respect Alaska’s right to choose whomever they wish to manage their state’s interests, Sarah Palin is not qualified nor prepared to have such a paramount say in my interest or those of my family.

Iconic Moments

I remember clearly, my grandfather, Big Ray, scooped me up out of my grandmother’s bed and gently placed me in front of their small, black & white TV. I didn’t really understand what was going on because when I caught a glimpse out of the living room window it was still dark on St. Albans Street in South Philadelphia. It wasn’t yet morning, but Big Ray insisted we watch what was about to come on the television screen. Moments later, I saw the grainy image of the first American astronaut walk on the surface of the moon. I was only four years old and I don’t remember being excited, only a desire to go back to bed.

February 11, 1990 I whooped and hollered, shook and shimmied as I watched Nelson Mandela triumphantly join his family and nation as he was released from Robbins Island.

Eleven years later on the morning of Sept. 11, 2001, I was pregnant with Yannick, preparing to drop Olivia off at preschool and make my way to work when the telephone rang. It was my mother asking if our television was on. It was, Olivia was checking out Elmo on Sesame Street. My mom urged me to turn on the news and as I tried to digest what I was seeing, I called for Loverman to come into the room and just as he approached we watched in horror as the second plane crash into the World Trade Center. It was incomprehensible. I wasn’t sure what was happening and after watching the news for just a few short minutes, I returned to going about the business of getting my day started. Looking back on that morning, I cannot believe Loverman and I went ahead and dropped our little girl off at school and proceeded to work. It wasn’t until I sat at my desk did I begin to realize the severity of the situation. I was in shock and as I continued to process all that was happening, I immediately felt the need to gather my family close. I cried for days sitting in front of the television, wondering how could we possibly bring another child into this mad, mad world.

Three years ago tomorrow, Aug. 29, 2005, Hurricane Katrina devastated America’s Gulf Coast and again I sat paralyzed in front of the television as I watched thousands stranded…no, abandoned in the world’s richest nation for over a week.

Tonight I’m primed and ready to witness what may be the most iconic moment of American history in my lifetime--- Barack Obama accept the Democratic nomination for President of the United States of America, and just as my grandfather felt compelled to wake me to see that iconic moment on April 20, 1969 for myself, I, too, will sit with my two children and celebrate this most auspicious, historical occasion. YES WE CAN!

I'm a Wreck

I’m a wreck, and although it’s only Wednesday, it feels like it will take forever to get to Friday and the long holiday weekend. I’ve been crying at a drop of a hat and feel emotionally fragile.

I don’t find myself in such a state very often, but when I do, I need to identify the cause. Some of it has to do with the fact that my kids don’t go back to school until September 15th because their school is moving into a new building and they won’t receive the certificate of occupancy until September 1st and they’ll need the next two weeks to get settled. This is a problem because all of the summer camps I know of closed for business last week and Loverman is preparing to go back into the classroom next Tuesday to teach his own classes at Temple. Our game plan is to take it one day at a time, lean on family and friends and I guess I’ll have work from home for a few days, but I can tell already it’s going to be a bumpy two weeks.

Another cause of my funkdom is the unofficial end of summer--- never liked it, never will. Summer is my favorite season and I am mournful.

Finally, this week’s Democratic National Convention has consumed me. I am a political junkie and for me politics is not a game, and I take it quite personally, probably too personally. Until Hillary’s incredible and unequivocal endorsement of Obama last night, I was feeling some sort of way about her and her husband’s tepid, at best, support of Barack since the end of the Democratic primary and I’ve been totally outdone with the pundits constant questioning what Obama needed to do to win over Clinton’s supporters. The question is offensive, tinged with racism, because the man has done all he has to do--- he followed the rules, won the necessary number of delegates and thus secured the nomination. Now, it’s time for us to get our act together and battle the true opponent—John McCain and the Republican Party. Our children’s future is dependent on the success of Barack Obama and Joe Biden and anything which takes our focus off winning back the White House and righting our country’s ship both domestically and internationally is counterproductive.

I was born in 1965 and raised with a ringside view of the political process. My paternal grandmother, Veronica Nelson, was elected as an alternate delegate and attended both the 1984 and 1988 Democratic National Conventions and throughout the primary season I imagined how proud she would be of Barack Obama. She would be working tirelessly on the frontlines to ensure his success in the general election in November.

Because of the incredible access my grandmother’s political activities offered me when I was younger and in spite of my wholehearted attempt to view the world from a global, We-Are-the-World perspective, I firmly believe America is still very much a racist country and when I hear bullshit like, America just needs to get to know the Obamas and then America will feel more comfortable about voting for Barack, I want to throw up. Let me say this, if you want to know them, then get to know me, because the Obamas are a reflection of my family and ideals and those of many of my friends and associates. If you don’t know them or me or people like us, by now, it’s simply because you don’t want to, but know this… Barack Obama is this nation’s best opportunity to live up to the ideals upon which it was founded.

We are at a most critical time in our country’s history and this moment is pregnant with possibilities and never in my lifetime have I released myself with such abandon in hope that we finally live up to our true potential.

They Call Me Peaches

Summer’s winding down, I know, but for me, summer isn’t summer without a peach cobbler. Until this weekend, I hadn’t had an opportunity to bake one this summer season, so when I ran across this recipe, I made a beeline to the grocery store and picked up the necessary ingredients. It’s delicious. Check it out!

Peach Cobbler

Ingredients:
9 fresh peaches
2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
½ cup sugar
1 1/3 cups all-purpose flour
3 tablespoons sugar
1 ½ teaspoons baking powder
½ teaspoon baking soda
¼ cup of butter, chilled
2/3 cup buttermilk
2 teaspoons white sugar
¼ teaspoons freshly grated nutmeg

Directions:
1. Preheat oven 400 degrees
2. Submerge peaches in boiling water about 1 minute. The amount of time required to make the skin easy to peel varies with the degree of ripeness. Remove peaches with a slotted spoon, and run peaches under cold water. Slip off the skin. Cut peaches into wedges, and place in either a deep 10” pie plate or a 2” deep 2 quart baking dish. Toss peaches with lemon juice and ½ cup of sugar (I added a bit of cinnamon.) Cover with foil.
3. Bake 15 minutes, or until the peaches are hot and bubbly.
4. Whisk together flour, 3 tablespoons of sugar, baking powder, and baking soda. Cut in butter with a pastry blender (or a knife) until mixture resembles small peas. Add buttermilk and toss with a fork until mixture clumps together (I added a dash of vanilla extract.) Drop heaping tablespoons of dough over the peaches. In a small cup, mix 2 teaspoons of sugar and nutmeg. Sprinkle over biscuits.
5. Bake until biscuits are golden brown, about 30 minutes. Let cool 10 to 15 minutes before serving.