• Sounds of Water

     Geese squawk on the small pond behind our house. Wings flapping makes a more pleasant sound. The sound of running water reminds me to go jiggle the toilet’s flusher chain that occasionally sticks. A very old, small fountain in my office makes comforting white noise if fed a cup of water weekly.

    Fortunate to live in the Midwest where water is plentiful, I love and fear its many sounds. Seven inches of rain, our sump pump sending a geyser out of the basement, a drip somewhere in the house, ice dams are the opposite of pleasant. Even a small amount of water can destroy. Like a dried toilet seal leading to a slow leak absorbed in a basket of winter gloves, hats, and scarfs for months and molding before seasonal discovery.   

    Raised next to Lake Michigan, nothing sooths me as much as its gentle rhythms. Small waves touching a sandy shore. Larger waves warning of changing weather.  Sparkling surfaces reflecting light. The coast and sky creating a paint card of greys when clouds dominate. Thunder heard miles before a storm will move on shore. The cawing of birds hunting for food.

    In this time of insecurity when scarcity is the essence of our national feeling, I dread more struggles over who might own or control the future of our Great Lakes’ water wealth. Suburbs suing for access to water miles from borders, states diverting without permission, computer giants demanding this precious life necessity to cool their equipment. 

    How will our voices be heard? How will water priorities be evaluated? The small questions about watering lawns are easy. The big questions are more complex.

  • A Cautionary Tale

    Recently, I stopped at Walgreens to test my nearly expired ATM card. Turns out it is expired. Tired and preoccupied with that, I didn’t notice the slight gray-haired guy standing nearby. 

    As I left the store he walked with me and asked if I’d gotten my money. What?! I looked at him more closely. One rotten tooth, disheveled. Possibly homeless, but certainly down on his luck. 

    He walked too close and commented on my purse being pretty. I understood he was trying to get money from me either by panhandling or by robbing me, and I knew I had to get away from him. But he seemed unstable, maybe volatile—mentally ill or high—I couldn’t tell which. I was reluctant to set him off. 

    He stayed close and kept trying to talk to me. As I neared my car, I said in a rude voice, “I’ve got to go. Bye!!” Even though I wanted to get rid of him, I was trying to treat this potentially homeless guy like a person. I thought if I got in the car and drove away I’d be OK. 

    I opened the car door. He saw cleaning supplies on the front seat and said, “Oh, are you a cleaner?” I said, “Yes” and quickly got in and locked the doors. He was standing very close to the driver’s side mirror. When he heard the locks click, he got mad and started banging on the window and shouting at me. I have no idea what he was saying, but I was scared and wanted to get out of there. He was still standing very close to the car when I put it in reverse, cut the wheel, and started to back up. He shrieked, “You ran over my foot!” and fell to his butt. 

    He continued screaming, “You ran over my f***ing foot.” I apologized, saying, “I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I’ll call for help.” I was shocked and scared, but thought if I’d hurt him I had to stay and deal with the situation.

    After I called 911, he yelled, “Get me some ice. You ran over my f***ing foot.” I went back into Walgreens. As I paid for the ice I told the clerk a man was injured in the parking lot and the paramedics would be coming. 

    The guy took the ice and slipped off his shoe. His bare foot had a small abrasion and it might have been a little puffy. Hard to tell. About then three first responders (firefighters) arrived. Two gray-haired guys and one younger one. They questioned the guy and asked me what had happened. One said, “Are you sure you ran over his foot? It might be a scam.” I thought I had hurt his foot, but honestly didn’t know.

    One of the firefighters asked the ‘victim’ if he could wiggle his toes. He could. He got up and began walking around and talking to a firefighter, enjoying the attention. Off to the side the other firefighters speculated the guy was high. 

    Shortly after, the paramedics arrived. They asked the guy the same questions and offered to take him to the hospital for an x-ray, but he didn’t want to go. By then we all recognized the situation was a stupid waste of time. 

    The paramedics told me the police would be delayed. We stood around deciding what to do. The situation seemed under control. I offered to lock myself in the car while I waited for the cops but the firefighters said, “We’re not leaving you alone with this guy.” 

    Meanwhile the guy decided he’d walk home on his supposedly injured foot. Clearly it was time for all of us to go. The firefighters said the cops could find me if they wanted to follow up. They never did.

    Only later did I think, “Wait. That guy was menacing me. Harassing me, trying to get money from me. Why was I so concerned about him?”

    I wish I would have handled the situation differently, but I’m sharing this story so you’ll have some strategies ready in case you ever find yourself in a similar situation. 

    • Pay attention to your surroundings if you use ATMs.
    • If someone follows you or bothers you, return to the store or business and ask for help.
    • Alert other people in the area that there’s a problem by yelling, “Get away from me! Leave me alone!”
    • If you’re in your car, lay on the horn to scare away the stranger and/or alert others to the trouble.

    Before this incident, it never dawned on me I might look like a target. I’m not used to thinking of myself that way. And I don’t like it. Because I’m a woman or perhaps because I’m gray-haired, I may appear vulnerable. But I don’t want that loser’s interpretation to define me. 

    Going forward, I hope to be better prepared. I hope you will be, too.

    , , , , , ,

    5 responses to “A Cautionary Tale”

    1. Ann Coleman Avatar

      I’m so sorry you had that awful experience, and glad that you are okay!

    2. Eliza Waters Avatar

      Ugh, how awful for you. Glad it ended without incident. The world can be a crazy place. I’ve been seeing dash cam videos of people cutting drivers off on the highway and then braking so they get rear-ended. Then they exit their vehicle feigning injuries so they can make insurance claims. Apparently, trucking companies are esp. targeted. So nuts!

      1. Ellen Shriner Avatar

        Truly a weird experience! I know I was lucky it wasn’t worse.

    3. cynthiakraack Avatar
      cynthiakraack

      Glad you are unharmed. It all happens quickly.

  • In Honor of Those Who Teach

    Marquette University’s development rep wanted to visit (aka ask for a donation). On a hot summer day Samantha Adler and I sat down with iced drinks to chat about education before the pitch. First, we circled topics searching for things we had in common beyond my alma mater and valuing education. We wandered into talking about growing up in small towns.

    She grew up in Monticello, Indiana, the same small town as my husband. She had attended Meadowlawn Elementary. I mentioned my mother-in-law spent decades there as a third-grade teacher.

    Samantha asked for her name. 

    “Mrs. Kraack.”

    Her eyes got wide. “Mrs. Kraack! She read to us after she retired.”

    “That would be her.”

    “She was amazing. She made me want to read.”

    There we sat, two strangers across a table, connected by the kind of educator who could make small children want to read.

    “I read Winnie the Pooh books to my children, and I do all the voices like Mrs. Kraack. I haven’t thought of her for so long. This is amazing.”

    We both had goosebumps while sharing Mrs. Kraack stories. I told her truthfully that this opportunity to talk about my mother-in-law was a wonderful gift. 

    Helen Kraack taught at least a thousand elementary school children during her career. She was on her third generation of students in some families. Teaching was not a job for her, but a mission. She worked hard to be sure every third grader leaving her classroom could read, manage their time, know how to be kind to others, and dream of their futures.

    How do you measure the success of teachers like Mrs. Kraack? Many tried when she received an Indiana Shining Star for Excellence in Teaching, when she retired, when she passed. Stories about kids who went to college, who became professionals, who held leadership positions, won awards. 

    Then there are untold stories about little girls like Samatha who learned to love reading while listening to Mrs. Kraack. A girl who would earn a full scholarship to St. Mary’s College and develop a career making college possible for other kids. A mother who reads Winnie-the-Pooh books to her children. 

    Many thanks to all who enter classrooms this school year or teach in other ways. Know that even on your most lackluster days, your influence may brighten a child’s day and well outlive you. There are people who have your backs and wish you all the best. 

    Emily Kraack Chad and Helen Kraack

    “Some people care too much. I think it’s called love.”
    ― A.A. Milne, Winnie-the-Pooh

    4 responses to “In Honor of Those Who Teach”

    1. Sally Showalter Avatar
      Sally Showalter

      Applause to teachers such as Emily. A wonderful story to share. Thank you.

    2. Eliza Waters Avatar

      Heartwarming story!

    3. WritingfromtheheartwithBrian Avatar

      Love stories about great teachers. The impression they make on others really does go on forever. Great story. 😎😎


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