Ripley Students are Grand Prize Winners in Contest for Prom Decorations

Ripley Central School was one of three Grand Prize winners in the Stumps, Proms Across America contest. Stumps, a major supplier of event decorations and supplies, sponsors an annual contest where schools can win gift certificates toward decorations for their proms. In a David and Goliath competition, Ripley students managed to come in second in the entire United States, winning $5,000 toward prom decorations, $1,000 for a D.J. and all the prom accessories such as crowns, tiaras and sashes.

The contest is aimed at showing school and community spirit by sending emails to the contest site. The three schools that sent the most emails were awarded the Grand Prize. This year’s top three contest winners were Alief Taylor High School, Houston, Texas; Ripley Central School, Ripley, New York; and Dearborn High School, Dearborn, Michigan. Going up against schools with over 10,000 students in their districts, the high school student body of Ripley, with just under 110 students, faculty, parents and friends managed to send over 187,000 entry emails in the Stumps Proms Across America contest. “We held voting parties where kids would come in and sit at the computers to send emails,” said Bert Fisher, class advisor. “We told the sixth, seventh and eighth graders that if they helped up we’d throw them a Spring Fling of their own,” she continued. “We even had second graders helping us.”

A gift certificate in the amount of $5,000 has already been awarded and spent in Ripley. “We bought a large fountain, archway and lighted gate, as well as other supplies,” commented Ms. Fisher. “A lot of these things can be used over and over. We’re pretty excited!”

A representative from Stumps will be at this year’s prom to do a follow up story for their magazine and web site. To see a complete list of winners, go to www.stumpsparty.com and click on the Proms Across America link.

Spring Cleaning

We’ve had hot, we’ve had cold, we’ve had everything in-between. It’s time to get down to Spring. I find spring cleaning to be a bit like the nesting instinct mothers go through just before the baby is born. It’s this overwhelming need to clean something, straighten up stuff and reorganize. I have great intentions when it comes to spring cleaning. I want to strip the room of all wall ornaments and moveable furniture and wipe down the walls, sweep away the cobwebs and clean the ceiling fan. Then my plan is to dust all the shelves, tables, chairs and knick knacks. Washing windows is not my favorite thing to do, but I force myself at least once a year. I am fortunate in this house to have tilt in windows that make washing the outside easy. After the windows, the vacuum cleaner comes out finish the job. Multiply that by seven rooms and it is a daunting task, at least in my mind.

I know there are women, and some men, out there who clean on a daily basis. I’m not sure what spring cleaning means to these people. But I’ll bet it isn’t a big deal. I had intentions of setting up a schedule of cleaning when I moved into this house: dusting on Monday, washing floors on Tuesday, vacuuming on Wednesday… you get the picture. It never happened. People walk into my house and they say Oh! You must clean all the time. They mistake cleaning with picking up. My husband is always on an anti-clutter campaign. He doesn’t care if the dust is an inch thick as long as the magazines and newspapers are put away. I will admit it makes the place look better at a glance, but I love the smell of a newly scrubbed house. Wonder if I’ll actually get any of it done?

A dear friend of mine from England is coming to visit at the end of the month. She is actually the impetus for cleaning. I have this insane need to make her think I am neat and organized person. I’m not sure why that is. But it does make a good excuse for getting things done.

The Art of Mothering

Mother’s Day is upon us once again. Several famous mothers come to mind as I reflect on the upcoming day honoring our mothers: Mother Teresa, Mother of Pearl, Ma Kettle and of course, Mother Goose. I have had a more personal relationship with Mother Goose than any of the others. I grew up listening to my mother recite her poems and then went on to recite them to my children. I even went to visit Mother Goose’s grave in Granary Burying Ground near the Boston Commons in Boston. Historians are quick to point out that Mary Goose, aka Mother Goose, wasn’t the real Mother Goose. But she’s good enough for me. Her gravestone says she’s Mother Goose, and I believe it. She’s with good company at Granary; Paul Revere was buried there as well.

Mothers are always spouting words of wisdom and doom to their children. It’s their way of showing they care, and an effort to preserve the species. Remember hearing “If everybody else jumped off a cliff, would you jump too?” I think jumping “off a cliff” might be indigenous to areas where there actually are cliffs. Perhaps in Nebraska or Kansas mothers ask if you’d jump down a well or something. But the point was you couldn’t do something just because “everybody” else was.

Or how about “Put on clean underwear! You never know when you’ll be in an accident.” The strong probability of soiling ourselves if we ever were in an accident may never have occurred to mom. Frankly, if I’m unconscious from being hit by a car (truck, tractor or deer, take your pick), I don’t think I, or the doctors, are going to care if I’ve done a doo-doo in my pants. But I’ll change my underwear daily on general principles.

“Be careful. You’ll put your eye out,” is one of personal experience for me. Kids are always running with scissors, sticks and other potentially lethal objects, and mothers are forever telling them not to do it. When my son was five years old, he was playing sword fight with a stick with a little friend. We two moms were sitting on the back steps talking, when a blood curdling scream came from the yard. My son had poked himself in the eye. I watched in grisly fascination as his pupil disappeared in a pool of blood. I rushed him to the hospital where he remained flat on his back for three days. Luckily no permanent damage was done, but let that be a lesson to you!

I recall quite often saying to my children, “Close the door – were you born in a barn?” Kids are always leaving the doors open, letting the flies in or the heat out. My parents are different. Go ahead, leave the door open. If the flies or bees get in, that’s okay. We’ll just capture them and put them back outside. My folks are born pacifists. We didn’t kill anything when we were growing up, except flies and mosquitoes. They evidently have no socially redeeming value. Bees, hornets, wasps; they all get rescued, if at all possible, and released back into the wild from whence they came. It drives my husband nuts. He’s a great poison man and has a killer instinct. He’ll poison ants, mice and dandelions any chance he can get. Me, I still try to catch and release. (Oh, that reminds me of fishing. I’ll have to remember to tell you that story another time.)

I’ll leave you with, “Don’t make that face or it’ll stick that way.” Hopefully you’re smiling, remembering your own mother’s words of advice. Keep smiling, may it’ll stick that way. Happy Mother’s Day.

I have been stressing over a part I was asked to play in a murder mystery for the library, and now it's over. I had a blast! The play was Honky Tonk Homicide and, while it was meant for a dinner party, the library presented it along with dinner for a fund-raiser.

Bubba's dead. But whodunnit? Bubba is the unsavory owner of Bubba's Honky Tonk in Cactus, Texas and someone has shot him. Could it be Twyla Fleetwood, owner of the trailer park and a Holocaust shelter. Bubba stores his "guns" there, but really is a gun-runner from Mexico. Twyla has dreams of "taking over the business."

Or maybe it's Dusty Diamond, the wannabe country singer who runs karaoke every Saturday night at Bubba's. He's just been told he'll be without a job because Bubba's changing Saturdays to mud-wrestling, cuz that's what his customers want.

Carney Folk has wandered into town with the carnival where he works, looking for the mangy SOB who got his momma pregnant then dumped her high and dry more than 20 years ago. And Rowdy Lawless zoomed into town on his beloved motorcycle, only to be arrested by Sheriff Cissy Wesson, who lets him off if he agrees to become her "love slave." Sheriff Cissy has a penchant for duct tape. She, however wants Bubba dead as well, and promises to release Rowdy if he performs one last act for her.

The Reverand Jim Bob and Mrs. Eternity are also in deep with Bubba. Mary Kay Eternity, the preachers wife, spends a lot of time at Bubba's Bar, getting to know the sinner in "order to understand them better." She also has her own line of cosmetics, which she uses liberally on herself. But unbeknownst to her husband, she runs a porn site on the Internet, "Hot Preacher's Wife," where she makes her most money. Rev. Jim Bob, who also spends a great deal of time in Bubba's, saving sinners, is $100,000 in debt trying to support his wife's make-up habit, and goes to Bubba for a loan. While there, he discovers Bubba is Mary Kay's best customer and is blackmailing her to keep quiet about her porn site.

And then there's Crystalline Daniels. A rather promiscuous barmaid, Crystalline is pregnant with Bubba's child after one night of passionate love making in Bubba's hot-tub. Bubba wants nothing to do with the child or Crystalline however. How will Crystalline make him see reason and provide for her and her child? A little rat poison in his Jack and Coke should ensure the little tyke inherits Bubba's fortune.

It was hysterical as I whipped off my wig and announced to the crowd that, yes, I was pregnant with Bubba's baby. But I'm not as young as y'all think I am! Shoot, it's a miracle I got pregnant at all at my age! And I need to provide for my unborn child, one way or another.

(Notice the Rev. cracking up. He had no idea I was going to do that. ;) )

Under the Influence

Many years ago, while taking a community college course, I was assigned to enact the part of a mother whose child had been killed by a drunk driver. My goal was to persuade the rest of the class to join M.A.D.D (Mothers Against Drunk Drivers.) I don’t remember the statistics I looked up at the time about how many drunk drivers there are on the road at any given time; or how many of them kill innocent victims; and sadly, how many of them go on to be repeat offenders. I do remember feeling that our legal system is severely flawed.

Every country has penalties for drunk driving, ranging from fines, imprisonment, revocation of licenses, even lashings in Saudi Arabia. I always thought the penalty for drunkenness in Saudi was death. Evidently this is not so. There is no “legal limit” in Saudi. Alcohol is illegal. Period. So the Saudis go to Bahrain where drinking is legal. Then they drive home where an “epidemic of horrific fatal accidents (are) caused by drunk drivers.”

There are more than half the States in the U.S. with Three Strikes laws. These laws generally pertain to violent crimes such as murder, armed robbery and rape. I’m not sure why a felon should be given a chance to murder or rape a second time, much less a third. There has been talk for years about what kind of penalties should be levied for vehicular homicide while under the influence. Isn’t a vehicle a deadly weapon when operated by someone under the influence of drugs or alcohol? Shouldn’t this be included as a violent crime?

Our country enjoys (and I use the term lightly) due process of law. Every defense attorney would like to gain the status of Clarence Darrow I daresay. I’m sure you remember him from the famous Scopes-Monkey Trial, but he also gained fame and notoriety in defending two rich teenage boys from Chicago who murdered another boy for “pure love of excitement…doing something different.” Defense doesn’t seem so much getting the innocent acquitted anymore, but rather twisting words and facts to protect the guilty. “If the glove don’t fit, you must acquit,” became Johnnie Cochran’s mantra during the O.J. Simpson trial for murder, even though it should be common knowledge that if you soak a leather glove in blood, it will shrink when dried.

But I digress. M.A.D.D. is a powerful organization whose purpose is to get drunks off the road, support victims and help prevent underage drinking. They don’t object to drinking, just getting behind the wheel and driving when impaired.

Who among us has not had a drink or few and then driven, at least once? Who among us have realized the potential disaster that could happen from taking this action? Who among us needs to tell a friend or relative to think before they drive drunk? I personally know a mother who lost her teenage daughter to a hit-and-run drunk driver. I cannot imagine her pain. But I wrote this for her sake, trying to describe the horror her life became when a thoughtless drunk decided to drive that night:

My child, my baby, your life too soon spun,
Taken from you before it’s begun.
How will I survive this pain that I feel?
The emptiness screams, for it is too real.

I look for you to come once again through the door,
To hear your sweet voice, if only once more.
My soul screams TAKE IT BACK, undo this pain!
Bring my child back to love once again.

My heart cries through the night,
with no respite in sight.
God rest your soul my darling, my girl,
Heaven’s new angel, my sweet precious pearl.

Please, don’t drink and drive.

Anatomy of a Bully

Can you remember being bullied as a kid? Was there someone, a neighbor, a classmate, a relative, who made you afraid? Bullies are everywhere, whether it is a nation’s government, a local resident or official or a group of school kids. In view of the recent suicide of Phoebe Prince of South Hadley, Massachusetts because she was being bullied, it behooves us to take a look at our own bulling situations.

It takes a lot of guts to stand up to a bully. Fear of reprisal is a big deterrent and bullies feed on fear. It’s their best weapon. Often they don’t have to do anything, just make a lot of noise and mumble threats under their breath.

There are all kinds of programs out there now to help kids deal with bullies. Teachers and administrators are taught to recognize signs of bullying. It still goes on of course, and not just in our schools. Adults are equally susceptible to bullying.

Bullies generally have an entourage. They seldom act without a cohort of people who encourage and applaud their actions. I’ve read that bullies tend to be characters of low self-esteem; that the only way they can feel good about themselves is to strike fear in others. It’s said if you confront a bully, they back down. I don’t know. I’ve never tried it.

People speak under their breath about a wrongdoing that has occurred, but they’re careful to whom they speak. It’s a fine line between gossip and slander. And yet, we’re afraid to confront the individual who committed the egregious acts. Standing up to a bully can be a frightening experience, especially when you have to do it alone. Most of us are willing to let someone else make the first move, and wait and see what happens. We don’t want to stick our necks out. We secretly applaud the poor soul who spoke up, but don’t want to get involved ourselves for fear of retribution.

It takes a village to defeat a bully. Peer pressure is a wondrous thing. It takes people standing together to overcome the fear of the bully who abuses a position of power. Perhaps it is time to stand together against our own bullies.

Happy Easter everyone. It's a beautiful sunny day here, but a bit cool compared to the last few days. We actually had Easter dinner on Friday. It was the only day everyone could make it and we had 7. Dad and Uncle Skip couldn't make it because they both have nasty colds.

The dinner was a bit of a disaster. Somehow the mashed potatoes turned into glue (wrong kind of potatoes to mash I guess) and I considered saving the leftover potatoes, and there were plenty of them, to use as glue for the wall paper upstairs. We nixed the idea however, figuring it would draw ants. I severely overcooked the asparagus, turning it into a green mass of stringy slime. Actually, it still tasted okay, just didn't look very appealing. I had made a relish tray earlier with four types of olives, pickles, pickled garlic, grape tomatoes, pickled beets and jalapenos. It looked lovely. I remembered to take it out of the refrigerator about an hour after we finished eating. Along with the relish tray I found the pistachio salad Mom made. Mmmm, pickles and pistachio. Other than that, everything was very nice. The ladies sat on the deck, the guys build a fire and sat in the yard tending it.

I've been feeling pretty poorly lately. My neck is out of whack and it gives me a constant headache most days. That in turn gives me an upset stomach. I may be losing weight from not eating much, but I'm not getting my hopes up. I finally found a NUCCA chiropractor, I think, about 80 miles from here. I'm going to call on Monday to see if the listing I found is current. If not, the next closest one is about 150 miles away. Because of the distance I've been putting it off for almost a year now. Time to get my head screwed on straight again.

On the positive side, I haven't had a cold or upper respiratory infection since I quite doing daycare over 2 years ago!

Hope your Easter is a beautiful one. I'm thinking of you today.

Robyn