Wear a Hoodie Monday April 2 for Trevon Martin and a New Cuture

Dear friends and family,

On Monday, everyone, please WEAR A HOODIE in solidarity for TREVON MARTIN AND HIS PARENTS and family and friends and alll young people of color who get judged by their skin and how they dress. They aren't free to wear hoodies and saggy pants like white kids, or walk to a convenience store and home carrying skittles and ice tea....Please let us show together we believe in a new culture, a new world where anyone can wear a hoodie without fear and judgement and racism that kills and demeans us all.

The college students at UWRF are doing this and I'm inspired by them and ask you all to do this and pass the idea on..... we need to transform our culture from one that eats up of our youth....we need to model a world we want....

Marybeth

A Tribute to Nina Leopold Bradley

To be cross country skiing in your 90s and invigorated by the winter chill. To mark the beginning of your day by the birds you spy at your feeder. To cheer with childhood glee the wonder of a new bloom -- or a new person to your door for soup and bread and a chat.

This woman, who earned numerous doctoral degrees for her efforts to pass on a land ethic to new generations and for her scientific work in phenology, spent her time with people listening instead of talking about herself. And she taught us all to listen -- to the birds, the land, to the needs of the community, and to each other. {http://www.examiner.com/green-living-in-milwaukee/nina-bradley-leopold-passes-away-at-her-home-baraboo-wisconsin].

She was a giant of a person, in the manner of namesake, Tia Nina, her aunt, who was a suffragette, matriarch of the family, homesteader and writer, a nearly successful runner for political office when women hardly had the vote [http://www.newmexicohistory.org/filedetails.php?fileID=22390].

At her memorial, her colleagues, daughters, grandsons and others spoke of her impact on them. But the real ripples of the effects of her life cannot be measured because even if you could track her small and large accomplishments in every community she's ever lived, you could not track all the dreams that she encouraged or the many ways people decided to act better and truer because of her model and words.

As for me, she's one of those guiding stars that I shall always aim for. I would like to be a woman like her, still skiing, still awestruck, still laughing, still caring about science and the world and politics, still nurturing and enjoying each member of her family, still listening with rapt attention to every person to come my way.

Aunt Mary -- One Heck of a Tall Tale Woman!

Imagine a woman who could run a well-digging rig as well as bake a batch of cookies, who could change her pickup's oil as well as sew a quilt, who could catch suckers and milk their sperm to raise minnows and also sing "What a friend we have in Jesus" in the church choir, who could fix plumbing, design a garden, and even yodel "I Want to Be a Cowboy's Sweetheart." She had co-run a service station, clerked at the grocery store and post office, and run for public office. When she won, she served with practical sense and an ear for the many sides of a question as well as patience in the face of sometimes outrageous behavior and name calling. No scandals with Mary!

Aunt Mary made a life for herself in the north woods of Wisconsin, outliving two husbands and teasing about whether anyone knew a good-looking, rich cowboy. Her nephew Darryl Mataya wrote: "You showed us what it took for a woman to live by herself in a remote area. Today there is almost no such thing as being lost or out of touch, with all our modern tools, but you managed to stay connected -- with a unique set of friendships, a vast knowledge of the land and roads around you, a quick honk as you passed a neighbor's house, and one simple pair of copper wires connecting your phone to the world. And I came to learn there was a good reason you had a loaded .22 rifle hanging above the back door and pity any fool who did not understand that there were circumstances where you were prepared to use it. (I also figured out who would be responsible if my curiosities were to get the best of me and I fooled around with it and shot my toe off.)"

Aunt Mary never taught her values, she lived them. Her home was simple--a trailer that had over the years barnacled into a house. She and her first husband, Willie, had built their own home from scratch, but it had been struck by lightning and burnt to the ground. As she had so many times in her life, without self pity or the contemporary feelings of victimization, she rebuilt her life from ashes.

Never judgmental, she lived by faith and tall standards, where all of life mattered, from her dog Friday who understood everything Mary said, to the fish she caught, to the birds and deer she fed daily, and yes, to the bear that passed through her backyard. Every person mattered too, as demonstrated by the collage of pictures of family and friends that took precedent over art on her walls. Her home by the lake was the favorite place for a summer vacation; many a woe-be-gone found refugee in her home when life buffeted them.

Darryl again: "We counted on you to help us, because we knew your guidance would be delivered with love and understanding. When we would put you in a position where you had little choice but to wonder what part of our mind had gone missing, you always treated us gently -- asking deliberately but politely if we were sure we wanted to leave that tackle box open while we prepared to gun the motor, of if we had indeed checked recently to see if the spare tire was back in the trunk. You always made us feel responsible for our behavior, but never ashamed of it."

I came late to the family, marrying into it via Darryl's brother, David. When I first met her, Aunt Mary pulled David aside and said of me: "She's a keeper." The feeling was mutual. The laughter in her eyes drew me like deer to her backyard troughs. From that point on, she became my Aunt Mary too, a woman who had that rare and unusual quality to take people exactly where they were at, look them in the eye, and make them feel recognized, honored, welcomed, and beloved.

As Darryl said, "Most of all, you believe everyone is precious....When anyone entered your home, we immediately felt like your favorite. That is an astonishing ability you have. ... I marveled at how, when each of us would walk in and get a hug . . . we all looked like you had just whispered to us that Christmas had been moved up... we feel that way because you believe it and treated each of us as the most special of God's children."

Mary Mataya Williams, the tall tale woman for whom I dedicated Paul Bunyan's Sweetheart, died on August 17, 2009 at the age of 86. We miss her. I miss her. All the time. I hope to grow into a fine woman like Aunt Mary someday. I don't think I'll make it, but I'll try. The world needs more such tall tale people, big-hearted people who don't live "whatever" lives but sing a bold, bright, courageous song individually and in chorus -- with a yodel thrown in for good measure.

Nana's Wild Blueberry Surprise

Today's my birthday, and I post this in honor of my favorite blueberry picking partner, my mom (Nana to my kids), Marilyn Lorbiecki, and my dad, the Waltz King, Rudy Lorbiecki.




Nana’s Opens-Your-Eyes,
Wild Blueberry Surprise

Text copyright 2009 by Marybeth Lorbiecki


Deep in July, when the berries turn blue
and the sun is heavy and there’s nothing to do,
we head to my Grandparents’ place on the bay
for Grampa’s birthday and a week-long stay.

I love it there, the sand and the sky,
and the tall green pines that stand nearby.
But best of all are the mysterious pies,
Nana’s Open-Your-Eyes, Wild Blueberry Surprise!

Tired from driving, we tumble from cars,
toting ten gallon coolers & Rice-Krispie bars --
Aunt Kate lugs a laptop and her long “to-do” list,
with a sackful of munchies slung over her wrist.
Uncle John heaves hard at his bundle of clubs,
Cousin Julie just sulks and pushes off hugs.

Aunt Jean carries her squares neatly clipped, [quilt pieces]
and a folder of coupons to be sorted and snipped.
Rachel and Sarah – Alex and Em
bring Game Boys and beach balls, CDs and fins.

Lawrence and Max, who've come so far
run to the beach, fleeing the car.
Aunt LeAnn and Yoshimi, chatting away
talk as they walk, unpacking to stay.

Peter and Steven, Abby and Grace
cling to their Ipods and books, just in case.
Waddling in diapers, William and Joe
Follow Claire and Sam with tackle in tow.

And I know what will excite them --
a slice of great size
of Nana’s Open-Your-Eyes, Wild Blue Berry Surprise.
“It’s magic,” says Nana “Just wait and see --
the things that happen surprise even me.”


That night I dream that Nana picks me
to go with her friends on their blueberry spree.
I wait and wait, my fingers crossed tight,
and wish on the stars that dark piney night.

Then Nana looks round on the very next day:
“Come here, my dear,” I hear her say,
I’m so happy I scarcely breathe…
We pack water and hats before we leave.

Then Nana and I stroll hand in hand
And wait for the pickers to arrive in their vans.
“The Blueberry Gals,” chat and we pick,
shooing away flies and pulling off ticks.
We haul berries back for cleaning with care
- each of the gals has her own special flair
mixing sunshine and forest with sugar and zest
making incredible goodies for their families to test.

Back at the cabin, we head to the kitchen
to get all the ingredients ready for mixin’.
Before we start, Nana says in my ear
words meant only for me to hear:
“I’ve never told anyone my secret for pies
that makes them Open-Your-Eyes, Wild Berry Surprise.

Now I’m so excited I’m afraid I will spill
or mix the dough and forget to chill.
Then Nana whispers, again near my ear,
words I want to remember all year:
“With each cup of berries, you think a good wish
for every person who will eat of this dish.
Then with measures of
wildness and spice
mixed once or twice,
the magic takes hold --
quite out of control.”

So after a feast of fresh-caught fish
corn on the cob, and noodle hotdish,
the time has come at last to try
Nana’s incredible blueberry pie.

Only Mom and Dad sit quiet aside,
not talking much or meeting our eyes.

Nana winks ‘don’t worry’ and serves up plates
while Grampa puts on his old-time tapes.
The first thing that happens, with just one bite,
the littlest kids start to scramble and fight
they escape their boosters and belted chairs
to dance to the music, clumsy as bears.
To the side goes the paperwork
it falls in a pile,
as Aunt Kate gets up and swings a child.
Great Uncle Mark eases up from his chair
And waltzes with Abby with wind in her hair.
Then moody Julie, her view now improved,
clangs two spoons with trills like the loons.
Alex jumps on the table in one big leap,
Dancing a polka to a disco beat.
Aunt Jean twirls ‘round like a fork of spaghetti
flinging coupons about like colored confetti.
John arrives, having flopped on the greens,
and is taken aback, shocked by the scene.

But with one small taste of those blueberry pies,
his spirits, too, begin to rise --
and he drops his pack of polished clubs
to twist and turn and cut up rugs.
Amidst all the ruckus
something romantic occurs --
Mom gives to Dad a shy little glance
and asks him if he’d like to dance.
He smiles, he laughs, he puts out his hands.
Then in a whirl,
they start to swirl
around and around the room.
As I watch, Nana’s hand reaches mine
and we, as the cooks, feel so fine.
A little while later, after dessert,
Grampa announces:
“That’s why I married her,
sure as I’m alive,
Her Open-Your-Eyes, Wild Berry Surprise.”
And he turns to his side to give a big kiss
to the smiling, blushing chef of this dish.
We clap and we whistle and fill our plates high
with Nana’s Open-Your-Eyes, Wild Blueberry Surprise!


Make Your Own Wild Blueberry Surprise

CRUST:
Crush a dozen gingersnap or gingerbread cookies until very small pieces – about 2 cups.
Or mix together:
2 cups of flour,
½ teaspoon salt,
3 tablespoons brown sugar,
1 tablespoon ginger,
1 teaspoon cinnamon,
¼ cup chopped pecans.

Melt I stick butter.
Mix with crushed cookies or flour mixture.
Press into pie tin.
Bake at 350 degrees for 15 minutes or until light brown and a little bubbly.
Let cool.

FILLING:
3 cups of wild blueberries
3 tablespoons sugar
3 tablespoons water
1 packet unflavored gelatin

Cook over stove – let bubble for five minutes.
Pour into cooled pie crusts.

TOPPING:
½ pint heavy whipping cream
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
2 tablespoons powdered sugar
Whip till stiff peaks. Cover pie. Decorate with sprinkles, or Heath butter brickle bits.
Make sure to add good wishes for each person who will eat this dish!

Planting Peace: Tall Tale Woman Wangari Maathai

One of my great heroes is Ecologist Dr. Wangari Maathai. She's just the right person to think about in the summer as we watch our tomatoes send out little yellow flowers and pea plants furl and twirl their leaves up and around to pass out their pods.

First of all, her smile is as wide as the African plains and her eyes are as welcoming as sunlight glinting off a lake. She was the first woman to earn a Ph.D. in East Africa. She's stood up to presidents, survived prison and discouragement, endured beatings and public shaming. To listen to her talk and laugh, you would not know it.

To fix up the dust-covered, rain-starved lands and the collapsing villages she visited in Kenya, she got the women and children planting back the trees that had once grown there. The trees and the people working together started to heal the lands and hold the moisture in till the rains began coming back to parched places. The Green Belt Movement she launched has planted over 40 million trees throughout Africa. Now that's heroic, tall tale stuff to me.

She's a giant, but she's a hummingbird as well. Listen to her tell the story of the hummingbird and the forest fire: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fHtFM1XEXas

The Nobel Peace Prize Committee thought she was so extraordinary and groundbreaking in her work that it awarded her a Peace Prize in 2004. She said:
“Through the Green Belt Movement, thousands of ordinary citizens were mobilized and empowered to take action and effect change. ... They learned to overcome fear and a sense of helplessness and moved to defend democratic rights.”

Trees growing into united voices, growing into listening, growing into peace. But not enough, trees or peace. Africa needs more. The world needs more.

Elected to Kenyan Parliament, Maathai has been a leader in her country and active with women's rights, conflict resolution, and peace-making in the United Nations and the world at large.

Amazing just isn't a big enough word for her. She asks us all to be hummingbirds and just do what we can, where we are, with what we have. So plant a tree. Plant a few. Join with some others and plant a million.

You can read all about her in a new children's book: Planting the Trees of Kenya: The Story of Wangari Maathai by Claire A. Nivola.

For more on Maathai and her Green Belt Movement, check their website: http://www.greenbeltmovement.org/a.php?id=90

Hear her speak on her work and her faith "Planting the Future" http://speakingoffaith.publicradio.org/programs/2009/plantingthefuture/
PBS ran an independent film on her in spring 2009 "Taking Root: The Vision of Wangari Maathai" :http://www.pbs.org/independentlens/takingroot/

You can a short clip of Wangari Maathai's "disobedience" to men for what she believed was right: http://www.democraticunderground.com/discuss/duboard.php?az=view_all&address=385x295229

For a short sum up of her accomplishments:
http://www.america.gov/st/democracyhr-english/2009/March/20090309102117ebyessedo0.1575891.html

Cool Hot Heads & Work Together for Planet -- 350.org

Paul Bunyan had his hands full when he tried to make a sweetheart out of Lucette Diana Kensack. She says to him:
"Have you ever looked around the woods after you're through? They're a mess! I can't go marrying a man who expects me or someone else to clean up after him."

Well, through three funny love tests in Paul Bunyan's Sweetheart, she has Paul convinced he has to start thinking and acting differently if he wants to win Lucette and keep those forests growing even while he's logging, keep those sparkling lakes clear and swimmable, and keep the air smelling piney and fresh and even more appealing than French perfume.

What about us? We've got our chance, too, to start learning how to clean up after ourselves on this planet. Who wants a planet that's too hot for polar bears, too stormy and drought-ridden in places for crops, and too dirty for clean air and clean water for all.

On October 24th, scientists, religious people, and lovers of nature and the human race are joining together in small and large groups to show how they want to change their actions and work with others to change our communities and nation to do what we can to work with the planet to clean up the air and slow the warming of the planet.

Maybe you -- along with your family and/or friends -- can start or join in some action in your community. Go see the 350.org website.

You can also find many ways at home, school, and while you're hanging out with friends to use less electricity (turn of teh lights, use electronic devices less, etc.); to bike, walk, run or skateboard more to events, gang your trips, or carpool; plant trees and gardens; get outside more -- go camping, birdwatching, canoeing, exploring, fort-building, playing night games in your neighborhood, etc. Enjoy, enjoy, enjoy. The more you love the outdoors, the more you will find ways to care for it and us all.