Tag: wordsisters

  • 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

  • I Like to Laugh

    Valentine’s Day dance

    I like to laugh. Uproariously. I like to banter. When words or actions touch my heart, I like to cry. I savor conversations that lead me to your spirit and you to mine. I want to feel safe.

    Jody and I found a welcoming community where we belong. Our spirits, the essence of who we are, no longer need to be hidden. Our sense of being different has melted away. We fit.

    On our arrival, several Minnesotans stopped by our RV lot, gave us a dern-tootin’, you betcha Minnesooota hello. “Dun-chya-no, dere’s a dance dis evening at the clubhouse. Yah. Yah. You wanna come wid?”

    Shortly after we met a lady walking her dog. After chatting, we realized we had found ourselves a dog sitter.

    Winter games, one week of competitive fun play, started the day after our arrival. Variations of ping pong, billiards, shuffleboard, bocce ball, corn hole, mind games and kids’ games kept us busy from morning to night. Over 120 community members participated. All organized by volunteers.

    The Resort encompasses fifty acres and features 278 homes and RV lots. Many overlook freshwater lakes, conservation areas and preserves.

    What’s not to like?

    The Resort is a predominately lesbian, gated community.

    I wondered what our son and daughter would think of us owning an RV lot here. Would they feel welcomed? Would friends, relatives, nieces and nephews, want to visit? How would I feel living 24/7 in a community of women? Was I essentially gating myself from the outside ‘real’ world? Was I labeling myself a lesbian? (I hate labels).

    These questions bothered me. I listened to my body. Paid attention to how I felt when joining activities, walking the dogs, and visiting residents. Jody and I discussed on many occasions the path that brought us here.

    What I like most about The Resort is the feeling of acceptance regardless of age, body size, clothes style, or how you look. Friendliness awaits as soon as you step out of your house or RV. Waving Hi, saying hello, is natural and expected. The Resort is safe. I can be myself. I can have meaningful conversations.

    My unease finally came to rest when I determined that Jody and I did well for ourselves. The Resort is a wonderful resting place for our spirits. We enjoy the camaraderie and budding friendships. What matters most is that it is a place for us.  It’s a home where we are comfortable and laugh often.

  • Are You My Mother?

    A visit to the Everglades. Alligator mother.

    “Where is my mother?” the baby bird asked.

    I will go and look for her,” he said.

    So away he went.

    He did not know what his mother looked like.

    Where he would find her.

    This popular children’s story speaks of the importance of belonging, finding your tribe, your people. The kitten, hen, dog, cow, were not his mother so the little bird went on. The boat, plane, and snorting steam shovel were not his mother.

    Jody and I started our RV adventure on September 30, 2024. Along the way, we asked ourselves the question, “Are you, my mother?”

    Our search for belonging, for community.

    Perhaps it’s because 2024/2025 are political years. Perhaps it’s because we are a married couple. Perhaps it’s the insular nature of an RV park.

    The answer continually echoed: we don’t belong here.

    We didn’t find one couple or one person in the 210-site park we could share ourselves with.

    Instead, we escaped the park in our RV to take in long breaths at the ocean. In November, I flew to Texas to buy a car, and drove it back to Florida to increase our ability to leave the RV park.

    Once our search started, we decided that even though the park was beautiful and the folks friendly that it was more important to have a feeling of acceptance and inclusion.

    Inching ever closer, Jody and I have given notice at our RV park and are moving to a community in Fort Myers on Saturday.

    It’s important to not settle. Not try to fit in. To trust ourselves. Be proud of who we are.