WordSisters

Author: Ellen Shriner

  • Pomp, Circumstance, and the Power of Possibility

    Hearing “Pomp and Circumstance” always makes my eyes water a little. The music cues a range of emotions—often a bittersweet sense of endings and fresh starts and occasionally, inspiration.

    graduation-clip-art-9cRa8j7ce

    High school graduations carry the most emotional freight.

    Between 14 and 18, teenagers learn and change so much in the intense, sometimes toxic, sometimes wonderful environment of high school.

    If asked how they feel about leaving high school, many seniors would speak of boredom and escape: Can’t. Wait. To. Get. Out. Of. Here.

    Often sadness is also mixed in, especially for students who thrived in high school. Their friends are scattering. The jokes, heartaches, and triumphs they shared in the classroom, on stage, in sports, during study hall, and in the lunchroom will never happen again in quite the same way.

    Whether or not they admit it, most graduating seniors are also uncertain about what’s next. They may talk the talk, “I’m going to the U in the fall,” or “I’m looking for work,” or “I’m enlisting,” but deep down they’re scared of the unknown even if they welcome the change.

    These emotions are common and expected, but no less important because they are familiar.

    Every year, there are people for whom high school graduation means even more.

    I recently read about a student in Florida who graduated at the top of his class in 2014, despite being homeless much of his senior year. His mother died of leukemia when he was 6, and he, his father and older brother were frequently homeless. Despite that, he was determined to succeed

    I am also reminded of a student at my youngest son’s high school graduation. The evening was stormy, so his class of nearly 900 and their families crammed into the school. My husband and I were exhausted after being up most of the night with my elderly parents, who’d fallen and injured themselves the prior evening.

    The gym was hot and we were sweaty. “Pomp and Circumstance” played over and over and over as wave after wave of graduates crossed the stage. I was proud of our son but also preoccupied with my parents’ health. Getting to the “S’s” took a long while. I tried to keep my eyes open.

    Shortly after our son got his diploma, a roar went up in the crowd. I focused my grainy eyes to find the source of the commotion. A dark-haired boy who had always used a wheelchair stood up and walked across the stage unassisted. I didn’t know him, but his determination and accomplishment brought tears to my eyes.

    These stories have such sweetness and power to inspire. Whenever I hear the first notes of “Pomp and Circumstance,” I’m reminded of the power of possibility.

  • What’s in a Nickname?

    In Great Britain, more than 120,000 online voters recently suggested “Boaty McBoatface” as the name for a British polar research ship. The Science Ministry in Britain overruled the popular choice, choosing instead to name the ship after naturalist and broadcaster Sir David Attenborough. Although I loved the silliness of “Boaty McBoatface,” I wasn’t surprised it didn’t make the cut. But it did remind me of the power and persistence of nicknames.

    Some nicknames are just plain stupid and annoying like the ones I was given in high school. And no, I’m not giving them new life here! Other nicknames are mocking and hurtful. I never knowingly bestow those names. If I know that someone dislikes one of my nicknames, I try to drop it.

    But for me, nicknames are sign of affection—a name I give someone to acknowledge our special connection. Or they can also be a humorous name for a car or pet. For example, my ’67 Chevy BelAir was “the Blue Whale,” because it was enormous. Sometimes we called my collie Tasha, “Slosha,” because of the way she dripped all over the floor when drinking.

    When I was growing up, nicknames were common in my family, and my father originated most of them. They were affectionate (or at worst, teasing) and often nonsensical. I don’t know why he called my oldest brother, who certainly wasn’t smelly, “Big Barnsmell.” None of the rest of us called him that, so my brother tolerated the name with good grace. Dad called my next brother, “Sport,” which at least made sense, because that brother was athletic.

    Sport called me “Snickersnee” because of my sneezing and allergies. Eventually that was shortened to “Snee” or “Snee Baby.”

    After hearing my oldest niece call her younger sister, “Shorty,” I adopted that nickname for my younger sister, because she’s several inches taller than me. Stupid, I know, for a grown woman to call her younger sister “Shorty,” but I’ve done it for years and she’s never smacked me. Lately she’s taken to calling me “Shellen.” Aside from the rhyme, I’m not sure why she’s given me that name, but I’m OK with it.

    My siblings and I also had nicknames for my father although we didn’t always say them to his face—“Big D” for Dad or Don (his first name).

    It was probably inevitable that I’d have nicknames for my sons. I’ll spare you (and them) the dippiest names, which tended to be variations on their first names. However, during his middle years, I called my youngest, “Larry Bob,” which had nothing to do with his real name, but it sort of went with the goofier side of his personality.

    When our sons got muscles and grew half a foot taller than me, I began calling them “Otis” and “The Other Otis”—kind of like calling them, “You big galoot”—a teasing way to acknowledge how much bigger they are than me. So far, they’ve tolerated it pretty well. No doubt they have names for me too.

    Do you use nicknames for your family and friends? How about your car? Pets?

  • Defensive Landscaping

    In late April and early May, my mind is abuzz with gardening and landscaping plans. I research plants, dream up color schemes, make lists, haunt garden centers, and chart the hours of sunlight for my new garden—yep, I’m hardcore. In years past when I had a large suburban lot, my focus was on what to do with all that space.

    One of our four large gardens in the suburbs
    One of our four large gardens in the suburbs

     

     

     

     

     

     

    Now that I live in the city and have a very small yard (intentionally), I focus on defensive landscaping—how to create something attractive to camouflage undesirable views, including those of my much closer neighbors’ yards.

    1. Create an inspiring view for my office window.
    My current view
    My current view

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

    What if I had a silver moon clematis growing on a trellis by the garage?
    What if I had a silver moon clematis growing on a trellis by the garage?

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

    1. Cover up my neighbor’s deteriorating garage.
    Sigh
    Sigh

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

    Maybe a columnar birch would camouflage the neighbor's garage.
    Maybe a columnar birch would camouflage the neighbor’s garage.

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

    1. Add native grasses to screen the view of the alley.
    John's new fence adds some privacy.
    John’s new fence adds some privacy.

     

     

     

     

     

     

    What if we added clumps of feather reed grass along the fence like this?
    What if we added clumps of feather reed grass along the fence like this?

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

    In April everything seems possible. By August, it’s all over. But if this year’s plan doesn’t turn out as great I’m picturing, there’s always next year!