Do You Procrastinate?

Recently, a week before a major speech assignment was due, a student raised his hand in class and asked, "Teacher, speak to us of procrastination."

In the beginning of the semester I shared with my students this riddle:

Q: How does a mouse eat an elephant?
A: One bite at a time.

"If you only think of the end product--giving a speech--it may seem mammoth, overwhelming, impossible.  But if you break the assignment into small pieces, like the mouse did, in X amount of time, you will accomplish the task," I explained.

Forewarned is forearmed, right? Not really. Unfortunately, many of my students arrive at the doorstep of higher education with no time management skills. Even with the best intentions, many sabotage themselves because they lack self-discipline.

So, to help my dear student understand how to "break it down" into small pieces, I told him this true story.

"The year after my former husband left our marriage, I was in a panic because I had not filled out income tax forms in over 15 years and I was afraid of making a mistake. Every time I thought about tackling my taxes, I would have heart palpitations and I would start seeing black dots before my eyes. My stomach would do flip-flops and my heart rate would increase. (Classic signs of a panic attack.)


"I was afraid of making a mistake which I had once done. And that error resulted in a steep penalty."

"So what did you do?" The student was paying rapt attention.

"As soon as I received the tax forms," I smiled remembering my strategy, "I counted how many lines I had to complete. Let's say there were 50 lines. I then counted 50 days, added on 10 more days...just in case, and then I filled out one line per day."

"Really?"

"Indeed, I did. Its called 'baby stepping.' You break your task down into tiny, non-threatening steps. While facing the necessity to do my taxes was intimidating on its face, when I chopped it up into teeny-weeny steps, it became a non-threatening 10 minutes task. Well before April 15, I had faced my biggest fear and
and 'handled my business'--without stress."

I finished my story with another riddle: 

Q: How the do termites eat a house?
A. Inch by inch.

Danielle Goes to Grandpa Buddy School

The Ba-Ba recently turned 10-months old and officially entered Grandpa Buddy School. Here, she is practicing belly-chuckles, prompted by her Grandpa's many faces. Her Mom and Dad, Desi and Justin, say Danielle is at the stage where, if she enjoys something, she wants to do it over and over again. We all oblige her because her unadulterated joy is contagious.

From the day her parents announced her conception, Buddy has been planning the things he will teach Danielle. In Grandpa Buddy School, one essential skill is Nose Picking! From the looks of things, she is a quick study.

.I wonder: What's next?

What is it about cats and the full moon?

Its a full moon and I miss my cats, Mookie and FuBu. Before our family was busted up (I had to move quite unexpectedly and my new landlord would not allow new tenants to have pets), the cats and I would sit outside together on the nights of the full moon. I would sprawl out on my back atop the picnic table and watch the moon and stars while Mookie and FuBu would spread out on the lawn. We loved this monthly ritual. Many times they would not want to come in. Moon drunk and mellow. How I miss my cats.

The Un-chocolate, Non-floral Valentine's Present

I just barely avoided a two-cart pile-up in my local grocery store yesterday afternoon. A man and a woman collided while making a mad dash for the same Valentine's Day bouquet. Last I saw them, they were at the check-out counter sharing a laugh over the perils of last minute gift shopping.

I sprinted off to the produce section to find bean sprouts for this evening's salad, all the while contemplating
what would be the perfect Valentine's Day present for all our loved ones, no matter size, age, or gender. By the time I'd reached my destination, I had thought of one of those "gifts that keeps on giving" ideas.

It's not a purchase; but, rather a practice.

It is not tangible; yet, it can be felt.

It is not a feeling; it is a skill.

 Without it, we cannot nurture ourselves or our relationships.

I'm talking about patience.

Psychiatrist M. Scott Peck, in his book, The Road Less Traveled, says, "Love is not a feeling; it is an act of will." So it is, too, with patience. We choose to practice patience; we don't wait to feel patient. If we did, many of us would never develop the skill. Patience is one of the tools/skills that enables us to build, nourish, and sustain healthy relationships. Without it, we can be consumed by disappointment, frustration, resentment, and an attitude of superiority. On the other hand generous doses of patience help our relationships bloom.

Before I finished shopping for the day, I visited a nursery and purchased a plant to symbolize my commitment to practice patience. A tender sprout, just like us. It is now on my windowsill with a quote from Ralph Waldo Emerson:

"Adopt the pace of nature, her secret is patience."

So, if you are scurrying around today looking for a present,  purchase a sprout, and write a lovely note promising to show your love by slowing down and being more patient.

Nikki Giovanni: Nikki-Rosa and Ego-tripping

I just found out that Nikki Giovanni will be the keynote speaker at tomorrow's Martin Luther King Jr. Memorial Convocation in Santa Cruz.  Once again, I will miss seeing a mentor-in-my-head, to borrow a phrase from talk show host, Wendy Williams. Last year, Maya Angelou was in town to celebrate National Women's History month and I missed her, too, because I teach several nights a week.

I walk in the footsteps of these two women, both of whom are world renowned poets, writer, educators, and social activists: I've loved them both since my teens. Their powerful way with words critically shaped my future dreams.

Nikki's poetry exploded into my life in the early '70s with the release of the album Truth Is On Its Way: Nikki Giovanni and the New York Community Choir. I get chills and goose bumps just thinking about Nikki reciting her poetry to the back drop of the magnificent young voices singing some of my favorite gospel music. 


In the mid-sixties, a handful of black students from my town were selected to integrate private schools in the state. You can believe me when I tell you, we weren't studying Nikki Giovanni in our English classes. Or, perhaps, I should only speak for myself. I was hungry to study black women writers, yet at the girls school I attended, they did not appear on my required reading lists. (The only piece written by a black author ever formally assigned was Manchild in the Promised Land by Claude Brown. If I recall correctly, my eighth grade English teacher had gone to school with him.) 

I was on my own to find the literary influences that would speak to my soul.


In my senior year of high school, two of us nerdy black private school kids, Richard Harris and myself, drove into the New York City to hear Nikki and the choir perform at Lincoln Center. 

She was, and still is, a tiny woman with a searing presence. She was like a meteor, bright and hot. Here, let me give you a taste.


Nikki-Rosa





Ego-tripping

Time for Review

If we are to go forward, we must go back and rediscover those precious values - that all reality hinges on moral foundations and that all reality has spiritual control.--Martin Luther King

What Is This???

Danielle discovers Buddy's nose.

 The important thing is not to stop questioning.  Curiosity has its own reason for existing.  One cannot help but be in awe when he contemplates the mysteries of eternity, of life, of the marvelous structure of reality. --Albert Einstein

12 Communication Resolutions for the New Year

Alone, all alone,
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.
-- Maya Angelou

A large percent of our New Year's resolutions revolve around improving physical health: "This year I will lose weight." "I'm finally going to stop smoking." "Tomorrow, I am going to join a health club and exercise three times a week." These are all admirable goals, but for a moment, I would like to focus on the health of our interpersonal relationships.


For those of you who intend to improve your relationships with loved ones, may I offer twelve specific communication goals. (Try one a week or one a month.)


1.  Be the first to listen. Listen with interest, listen without interrupting, listen without thinking about how you would like to respond. Listen with the purpose of gaining greater insight into your loved one.


2.  Practice the skill of validation. This is one verbal skill connected to effective listening. It entails acknowledging another's feelings without judgment. "I can hear you are disappointed with me." "I feel your sadness." "I see you are frustrated with your boss."


3. Give your undivided attention to the person with whom you are communicating. This is one of the greatest gifts you can give. This year, declare that multitasking is out and committed, focused attention is in when it comes to your relationships. Avoid trying to do other things when you are listening and talking with a significant other, especially your children.


4. Own your own feelings rather than blame others for what you feel. It sounds like this: "I feel angry when..." versus "You make me feel..." An accurate expression of an emotion just takes three words: "I feel
(name the feeling.) One reason we have difficulty identifying our emotions is because we have a limited feeling vocabulary. Maybe this is your year to expand yours. Additionally, it is sad to say that many of us would rather attack, blame, and guilt-trip than take responsibility for our own emotions.


5. Rather than label others, factually describe behavior instead. Here is an example: Instead of labeling your partner as "cheap," you might say: "I noticed the last three times we went out to dinner, I paid the tab. I would appreciate it if you would pay for dinner when we go out on Friday."

6. When you find the volume of your voice is rising and your rate of speech is increasing, pause, slow down, and whisper. Accept no excuses. "I can't help myself. That's just what happens when I get upset," is a way of rationalizing impolite behavior. Self-control is a virtue.


7.  Replace the word "should" with the phrase "I would like," or "I could." "You should get home earlier in the evening" becomes "I would like you to come home earlier in the evening." "I should have done better on my math test," becomes "I could have done better."


8. Stop commanding and ordering; rather, make requests. Do you know what distinguishes an order from any other type of statement? When you start a sentence with a verb, you are ordering. "Stop pouncing on me the minute I walk into the house" can become "When I arrive home from work, I need some quiet time to decompress. Can you give me 15-minutes of alone time before you start telling me about your day?"


9. Daily express appreciation and gratitude to those with whom you share your life. Being polite and courteous goes a long way in valuing and honoring others. "I appreciate that you did the grocery shopping today." "Thanks, Honey, for doing the dishes (bathing the baby, buying take-out for dinner.)"
 
10. Celebrate! No matter what mood you are in, try your best to celebrate the accomplishments and joys of your loved ones.

And, now: Buddy's Bonus Resolutions

11.  Always warn your significant other when you are about to "poot" in public. Does this need further explanation?

12.  Take a chance on love. Follow your heart.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Happy Thanksgiving!

Happy Thanksgiving, my beloved readers. Today, I am thankful to Johnson Oatman, Jr. who penned the song below, "Count Your Blessings," based on 1Thessalonians 5:18. I learned this song early in my life and remember liking its bright tune and optimistic lyrics.

Unfortunately, during life's bumps and bruises, I adopted the view that optimists were naive, at best; but more likely...just plain deluded. Consequently, I became a realist: one who deals with facts and concrete reality, and I pshawed the hopeful ones,  the ones who "walked by faith, not by sight."

Five years ago, when I started paying alimony to my former husband, this lively tune began to sing itself to me. At that time I was worried that the financial obligation of alimony would send my life into turmoil. 

I was angry and resentful that not only did I have to pay alimony for the next fours years but I also had to give my former partner half of my retirement savings. (California is a communal property state.) 

Chaz was disabled and had not worked for five years; so, in essence, he didn't have anything to split. In the material sense, I was being screwed...or so I thought.

I was torn by the battle within. I felt betrayed, wounded, and angry. And  I was righteously indignant. How dare he leave ME...AND take half of my money? 

One day as I was fuming, the lyrics of that old Vacation Bible School song, "Count Your Blessings" came to mind:

1. When upon life’s billows you are tempest-tossed,
   When you are discouraged, thinking all is lost,
   Count your many blessings, name them one by one,
   And it will surprise you what the Lord hath done.
   • Refrain:
     Count your blessings, name them one by one,
     Count your blessings, see what God hath done!
     Count your blessings, name them one by one,
     *Count your many blessings, see what God hath done.
     [*And it will surprise you what the Lord hath done.]
2. Are you ever burdened with a load of care?
   Does the cross seem heavy you are called to bear?
   Count your many blessings, every doubt will fly,
   And you will keep singing as the days go by.
3. When you look at others with their lands and gold,
   Think that Christ has promised you His wealth untold;
   Count your many blessings—wealth can never buy
   Your reward in heaven, nor your home on high.
4. So, amid the conflict whether great or small,
   Do not be discouraged, God is over all;
   Count your many blessings, angels will attend,
   Help and comfort give you to your journey’s end.

* Alternate text

 When the song "reappeared," I decided to latch on to it every time I felt a moment of anger, betrayal, doubt, fear, or resentment. I woke up counting my blessings, my mental screen saver throughout the day was set on "Count Your Blessings," and I went to sleep counting my blessings. Yes, this required discipline.


In about 18 months, I was able to not only write those checks without debilitating emotions, I was able to write them with faith and peace.

During the past five years, I have certainly learned that my "God will supply." I paid off my debts, even while paying the alimony, and this month I wrote the last check to Chaz. In that time, I also learned that, with God's help, I could actually manage my mind, rather than have my mind manage me. And, today, that's the blessing for which I am most grateful.

 
                                                                                                  

 

Summer Memories--Part Deux

Several days after MandM's anniversary gathering, Buddy's sister, Lynda, and their Mom came to town to celebrate his birthday.

We picked them up at Newark Airport and swept them away to Parsippany.

Family and friends gathered to celebrate the wonderfulness of our Buddy. These are Buddy's best friends, Joe and Janet Ciccone.

And this is Nicole McManus, Joe and Janet's daughter, with her husband, Jeff, and their son, Louie. Nicole is Buddy's goddaughter, and her birthday is the day after his.

 The next day, we raced to Philly (to beat Hurricane Irene) so Mom Riz could meet her great granddaughter. Here she is with Danielle, her dad Justin, and his dad Buddy. (Mommy Desi was not home when we took this photograph.)

 


The entire Rizzio family has a great sense of humor, and here, Lynda and Danielle share a laugh. They had just met!

Don't expect Mush and Slush to be in Cali this Christmas. We plan to be in Philly with the Baba.

Summer Memories

Its October first. Where did September go? How about August for that matter? I'm still wading through pictures from the latter part of the summer.





First, I moved in the beginning of August. Buddy and my younger brother, John Paul, came out to help.They are the most caring and protective men in my life.

Next, both my sister Tonia and I flew from California to New Jersey to celebrate my parents' 62 wedding anniversary. Look at them.

 Aren't they cute? They are 87 years old and proud of it.

Friends and family came from all around to pay tribute. Including:

My cousins Tia, 
Lorraine, and Tawanda.

My cousin Randy and Buddy.

Moi, Richard Harris and Sherry Davis Ruffin (We go way back!) 

Richard, Buddy, and Glenda Blackwell.











Stay tuned. Next week: photos of Buddy's birthday, and Mom Riz's visit with her first great grandchild.

The Big Cosmic Push

Firecrackers are popping, the dogs in the neighborhood are howling, and I'm packing books. Why? Because I've just received the Big Cosmic Push (BCP) and I'm moving in three weeks!

During the Spring, I had been thinking: "Hmm. I finish paying alimony to Chaz at the end of this year, how will I now use that money? (Answer: Restoring the portion of my pension he took when he left.)

But more importantly, how will I celebrate the completion of this most unpleasant financial obligation?  I contemplated a vacation. Nah. Juvederm injections?  Lol. A silent retreat? Not gonna happen! Nothing I considered seemed meaningful enough, so I placed the thought in my inner meditation room and went about my business.

In early June, I returned to the East Coast Love Nest for two weeks to hang out with Buddy and to meet The Baby Danielle. I had a wonderful, loving time. Never checked my home phone for messages while I was away. (I don't rely heavily on my cell phone because I don't like being available 24/7.)

When I arrived back home, there was a message stating that the owners of the condo in which I lived planned to return to Santa Cruz and wanted to move back in their home. (A sign of the economic times.) I had six weeks to find a new place.

I call this phenomenon the Big Cosmic Push. You're moving through life fairly smoothly, finding some joy in every day, tolerating the irritations, when WHAM! Life punches you in the face "outta nowhere." That's what happened five years ago when Chaz announced, eight weeks after having back surgery, that he no longer wanted to be married and would be leaving in three days. I remember I felt like I had been hit by a car going 60 miles-an-hour. For months, I felt like I was moving zombie-like through big wads of wet gauze, unable to see or feel even an inch ahead of me.

Then one day, I was aimlessly flipping through channels, when I stopped on a rerun of ER. Two doctors were sitting on a bench outside of the hospital. They were discussing one doctor's problem when her companion turned to her and said: "What if this didn't happen to you? What if it happened for you?"

That's an enlightening way of re-framing things. It presents the option of feeling victimized by life or choosing to acknowledge there might be an omniscient being--the big cosmic pusher--working on your behalf. I have since tried to practice that perspective in all of my affairs--even when I couldn't see up ahead.

This time around, I recognized the BCP quickly. Having to uproot and move to a new space, well, its happening for me, not to me.  And it is the kind of demarcation I need as a sign post for this major transition. I'm actually moving from the place I had once inhabited with Chaz. Its about time.

So, as the final firecrackers send their colorful sparks into the sky, I'm celebrating the next phase of my life!
On this 4th of July, I am tempted to say: "Free at last, free at last."

New Jersey Update

I recently spent two great, action-packed weeks back east with Buddy, family, and friends.

*   We visited Danielle, Desi, and Justin, in Philly.







*   I had a three-hour dinner with my friend Audrey whom I have not seen in 20 years. (Thank you Facebook.)
*   Dined with Father Gus in Philadelphia.
*   I, unfortunately, did not visit with as many friends as I wanted to. Next time!

*   My brother John and I attended a memorial for our former family doctor, role model, mentor, friend, and  confidant, Dr. George S. Lassiter. It was a fortuitous coincidence that I was home at the same time as Georgie's service. His children, Naina, Nyan, and Milan, each in their way, paid special tribute to their Dad. It was an inspiring event.

*  We celebrated an early Father's Day with my Mom and Dad by going out to dinner and drinking lots of sangria. That same evening my brother, John, and his wife, Fran, joined us to  celebrate their third wedding anniversary.

* I had a nice breakfast outing with my older bother, Dutch. (Photo of John, Moi, and Dutch during Christmas three years ago.)





*  I also fell twice while trying to do an O.J. sprint through the San Francisco Airport! Laptop, carry-on bag, and bag-to-be checked flew out of my tenuous grasp. I was certain there was a Candid Camera crew not only following behind me, but also placing invisible obstacles in front of me to cause my falls, which they then joyously caught on camera.This fibromite must find a better way to fly. Any suggestions?

*  The cherry on the top? Once again ensconced in my cozy home back in Santa Cruz, I listened to my phone messages and casually opened mail on Saturday morning. Lo and behold, while I was away, I received 60-day notice that I must move because the owners of the condo want to return to Santa Cruz and move back in.

*   Of course, by the time I actually received the notice, it really was a 50-day notice.


*   Summer school started yesterday. I am teaching two four-week courses: 1) Interpersonal Communication and 2) Oral Communication.

So, my friends, keep me in your prayers as I traverse the next leg of my adventurous marathon of a life!

YaYa Meets Danielle

Yes, I've been turned to slush. Just call Buddy and me Mush and Slush!

 If one feels the need of something grand, something infinite, something that makes one feel aware of God, one need not go far to find it. I think that I see something deeper, more infinite, more eternal than the ocean in the expression of the eyes of a little baby when it wakes in the morning and coos or laughs because it sees the sun shining on its cradle.-- Vincent van Gogh

So Many Books, Too Little Summer

Happy Memorial Day. The Spring semester has just ended and I have finished the odious job of assigning final grades.

Now for one of my greatest pleasures...the creation of my summer reading list. Every Memorial Day, I gather all the index cards, bookmarks, Post-Its, and notebooks on which I have recorded book titles, and devise my reading list for the summer.

This year, I'm doing it in a rush because I'm also packing to return to Buddy for several weeks before summer school  begins. So here, in no particular order, is my Summer 2011 list:

1.  The Help                                                   Kathryn Stockett
2.  The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks      Rebecaa Skloot
3.  Pope Joan: A Novel                                  Donna Woolfolk Cross
4.  Water for Elephants                                  Sara Gruen
5.  Reading Lolita in Tehran                          Azar Nafisi
6.  No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency              Alexander McCall Smith
7.  Of Thee I Sing: A Letter
           to My Daughters                                Barack Obama
8.  Mother Theresa: Come Be My Light      Mother Theresa
9.  My Freshman Year: What a Professor
           Learned by Becoming a Student       Rebekah Nathan
10. The Particular Sadness
           of Lemon Cake                                 Aimee Bender
11. The Twelve Steps of Forgiveness          Paul Ferrini
12. Change Your Brain,
            Change Your Life                           Daniel G. Amen
13. The Happiness Project                         Gretchen Rubin
14. Wherever You Go, There You Are      John Kabat-Zinn
15. God Is Not a  Christian                       Desmond TuTu

 I'd like to know what you are planning to read
this summer.

1) Click on the Comment section of this blog and
     send me your reading list.

2) Email me your reading list at:
    YaYa@myseatonthebeach.com

3) Send your reading list to me at YaYa
    Bowman's Facebook page.

I would love to publish your submissions
throughout the summer.

Mush and Slush

.
.
Meet Danielle Marie Rizzio, Buddy's first grandchild, our first granddaughter. (Desi is her Mom; Justin is her Dad.)

She has turned Buddy to mush. Mush, I tell 'ya!

He is enamored with every girgle, every burb, 
every hiccup, every passing of gas. 
He is agog with every toenail, fingernail, 
and every tiny eyelash.


He reports her kneecaps are smaller than his thumb, her diapers, smaller than his hand.

Look at those eyes. Look at her hair. I fully expect to be reduced to slush when I meet her in 12 days.

Hey, maybe she will grow up to call us, her Rizzio grandparents, Mush and Slush!

Twilight

Its that time of day when the sun has descended below the horizon, but the sky is still reflecting light; the transitional period of day, sung about in the first stanza of the children's poem/prayer/song by Sabine Baring-Gould:

"Now the day is over, Night is drawing nigh, Shadows of the evening Steal across the sky."  I have just finished reading my quota of students' research papers for the day; my brain is fried. Its time to consider what I will have for dinner but I can't think straight.  Little whimpers dribble from my lips. FuBu jumps in my lap, ever ready for some petting. Now that is something I can do: its automatic, takes very little thought, while it provides a quick payoff. Our breathe slows down into deep inhales,  slow exhales. FuBu begins to purr, and I can feel my head, neck, and shoulder muscles begin to relax. The breeze from the afternoon has turned into twilight wind. The leaves on the eucalyptus trees are  rapidly twisting, or perhaps they're doing the boogaloo! But you should hear the trees. They creak.  Yes. They sound like the loose floor board in Grandma's attic. And they moan just like that missing "uncle" your childhood active imagination believed lived locked in a secret closet  on Granny's top floor. Its going to rain, I can smell the ocean, and the seagulls are circling and squawking overhead.  FuBu and I are happy to be in the house, safe and warm.  As I listen to her contented purr,  I am reminded of the twilight time of my childhood. It was the time of day I felt most unsafe,  unprotected. You might say I lived in a constant state of fear. My family lived in a too tight apartment over my father's funeral home. In the basement was my mother's laundry room, where the household freezer resided, my father's workshop, where he made  cabinetry in his spare time,  the embalming room where he made his living,  preparing the dearly departed for their final stage of departure, and our playroom, right next to the room  where my Dad drained blood from corpses and replaced it with embalming fluid.  My little sisters and I dreaded twilight. As the sun began to go down, and my mother began to prepare the evening's meal, she would ask one of us politely to go downstairs to the freezer and retrieve packages  of frozen vegetables. I can hear the sing-songy voice, even now: "YaYa, would you like to go downstairs and  get some spinach for dinner?" "No, Ma, I wouldn't." (Thought it, never said it.) So, I would begrudgingly walk down the front stairs,  into my Dad's office, where I would pause, sit on the couch and talk to myself. "There is nothing to fear,  you can do this." I would take a big breath, hold it, and run past the dead person laying "in rest" in a casket  in the very next room, open the door to the basement, race down the stairs, past the embalming room,  where I could hear the pump extracting bodily fluids, race to the freezer, grab the first four packages of frozen vegetables I could put my hands on, hope they were all the same vegetables, and retrace my steps  back up the stairs.  There I would pause again, take another deep breath, pray that I could sneak safely past the dead person,  most often someone I knew, and race back up the stairs to the kitchen. If I mistakingly picked up  two packages of frozen spinach and two packages of frozen string beans, I would have to  descend those stairs again and rectify the problem.  Yes, twilight is an eery time of day for me, even now. So when I feel very anxious about it,  I hum this children's hynm.

Ladies and Gentlemen: Our President of the United States

"And tonight, let us think back to the sense of unity that prevailed on 9/11. I know that it has, at times, frayed. Yet today’s achievement is a testament to the greatness of our country and the determination of the American people.
The cause of securing our country is not complete. But tonight, we are once again reminded that America can do whatever we set our mind to. That is the story of our history, whether it’s the pursuit of prosperity for our people, or the struggle for equality for all our citizens; our commitment to stand up for our values abroad, and our sacrifices to make the world a safer place.
Let us remember that we can do these things not just because of wealth or power, but because of who we are: one nation, under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.
Thank you. May God bless you. And may God bless the United States of America."

--The end of President Barack Obama's announcement of Osama bin Laden's death, May 1, 2011

I'm on My Way Home from Spring Break; Will Blog Next Week

Spring Fever Has Struck Again

Spring has sprung and our Spring Break started rather late in the season. By the end of last week, students and faculty alike were eager for rest and relaxation. Many of my students agreed with Robin Williams: "Spring is nature's way of saying, 'Let's party!'" They are off to Mexico to do just that.

Me? I've returned to the East Coast Love Nest to spend my vacation with Buddy. Ten days of rest and rejuvenation. I arrived just in time to catch the blooming of the cherry blossoms right outside of our living room window. I am reminded of this sentiment expressed by Bern Williams: "The day the Lord created hope was probably the same day he created Spring."