Nancy Lawson

Nancy Lawson
a picture from her early teaching days in San Franciso

Sunday, September 23, 2018

August 11th, 1978 (Friday): For the Love and Loss of Language

Tonight I dusted books again.  What a world of lost ambitions these represented!  I was doing the language section.  I have novels in French, German, Arabic, Japanese, Latin, Russian, and Portuguese.  I have some volumes in Danish and an Italian phrase book as well as a Turkish one.  And, of course, I have a number of books in Spanish (I wanted to read Garcia Lorca in the original).  

I ran some across some of my Arabic lessons-I have the tapes but I need a reel to reel tap recorder.  I reviewed the lessons I was trying to learn to write Arabic as well as to speak it.  And now the Mid-East is in such a constant conflagration, I don't suppose I'll ever get there after all!

I wish I had a chance to start learning languages earlier because I have a flair for translation, not for the spoken, but for the written word.  I want to know a lot of languages because words fascinate me.  I always envied my friend, Bill Sinclair, who could speak any language after he'd heard it for a while-from Chinese (both Mandarin and Cantonese) to Mano.  I hope Petey will be interested in languages.  He knows some sign language (from "Sesame Street") and watches "Villa Allegra" faithfully because he's interested in Spanish (and he's learned some Spanish words from Cindy and Lolita next door). 

Since my breakdown, I've forgotten almost all the foreign languages I knew...I only remember a few words of French, and a smattering of German-a few Spanish, Russian, and Arabic phrases.  It's heard to start again from the beginning.


August 7th & 8th 1978: One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

Peter has been having a rough time.  Saturday he got up at 6:00am to watch cartoons, had two nosebleeds, and went back to bed at 1:00pm.  I woke him up at 4:00pm for lunch, but he just looked at his lunch, had two glasses of milk and a glass of lemonade, and went back to bed.  He slept 'til 8:00pm and was back in bed by 11:00pm.  He slept straight through till time to go to church, put his church clothes on, and stretched out again because he was so tired.  He had to be carried out to the car and stretched out in the pew for most of the service.  His urine was almost orange Saturday and was a very dark yellow Sunday.  We went to Carol Wallace's for dinner Sunday night, and he had another nosebleed while we were there.  Today his white count was only 1800 and Dr. de la Paz took him off all medicine for a week.  He was riding on the front of my cart in Safeway and fell off, catching his shoe in the Cart (I'm lucky he didn't break something!).  Then he didn't eat his lunch (except for his tater tots), was feverish (so I gave him 1/2 a Tylenol), and fell down the last two of our front steps, smash into the marigolds.  He went to Vicky's house tonight and had to be carried home.  He was too tired for supper or a bath.  I gave him lots of 7-Up today and he seemed cooler tonight when he went to bed, but he had another nosebleed.  I don't want him to get sick now, just when he's been doing so well, but I'll have to really watch him while it's so hot-it's was 104 degrees again today.

Monday, September 10, 2018

August 5th, 1978: Lullaby and Good Night: Songs to Sooth

Petey likes a song at bedtime.  I can't carry a tune, but he's not critical of my singing.  What I sing depends on the mood he's in.  If he's frightened, I sing "Jesus Loves The Little Children", "Jesus Loves Me", or "Rock of Ages".  If we're talking about England, I sing "Don't Dilly Dally" or "Oh You Are a Mucky Kid" (wish Stewart would send us some English music).  If he's sad, I sing "Old Man River", or "Down in the Valley", or "Nobody Knows the Trouble I've Seen".  There are lullabies, "Schlay, Bobbeli, Schlay", "Brahms' Lullaby", "Sleep, My Child and Peace Attend Thee" (I don't know the real title), or "Sarasponda".

He likes "Beautiful Saviour", and "I come to the Garden".  Then there are spirituals, "Sweet Chariot", "Rock My Soul".  He likes nonsense songs, "Go Tell Aunt Rhody", "Froggie Would A Wooing Go", "Clementine", "Sweet Betsy From Pike"; work songs, "I've Been Working On The Railroad", "Casey Jones", "John Henry"; prison songs, "The Midnight Special".

He likes "Barbry Ellen", "Stumptown Races", "America", "This Land is Your Land", and "He's Got The Whole World In His Hands".

One song usually calls another to mind, and I go on till he drifts off to sleep, but his favorites are "I love you" songs: "You are my Sunshine" and "I Love You a Bushel and a Peck".


Sunday, September 9, 2018

August 4th, 1978 (Friday): Chicken 1000 meets the Lorax

Petey and I watched the Dr. Seuss special tonight.  The second half on the the special was "The Lorax", which mad us both very sad.  

The irreversible destruction of the environment by industry is an ever present problem.  Now that the pipeline runs across the fragile Alaskan tundra with the constant threat of sabotage, now that truckoads and train loads of poisionous gasses explode across the country, now that what to do with radioactive wastes puzzles us all, Dr. Seuss's message is urgent.  "Unless"...

The Endless Pavement is another horrific version of the future where cars rule everything, trees and grass are entirely superseded by concrete, and people-bolted into cars at an early age-have forgotten how to use there legs.  The only entertainment is auto racing on the big screen and the art of conversation has been forgotten.  

Then there's Chicken 1000 (I don't know if the number's right), the escape of a "battery hen" to a normal life.  I usually dislike didactic stories, but the only way to ensure environmentalists is to begin with the children.  

There's also an impressive (but very sad) science-fiction movie (whose title I've forgotten) about the last forests, growing in space when the decision is made that they are no longer economically feasible, and they are to be converted to freighters.  Trees and grass are a luxury.  The  tale says it well-"welcome to the house.  Aren't the furnishings beautiful?"  We must learn to be good guests in God's house, our Earth.


August 2nd, 1978 (Wednesday): An end in sight

Pete said today would be a terrible day, but it didn't turn out so badly after all.  Our early morning drive to Boise was pleasantly cool.  Pete was hungry when we got to St. Luke's, so I asked Dr. Vestal if it would be all right for him to eat.  We each had an order of cinnamon toast in the treatment room, while we waited for his tests.  They also gave him a paper cup of milk.  Then I told him "Don't Touch Me!", and he had a good time chasing me around the treatment room trying to touch me.  When he did, I'd chase him.  

They did a finger stick for his blood work, and gave him two lollipops.  When they did his bone marrow and spinal tap, Tuck was there, and she gave him a "Goofy" pin she had on her uniform pocket and a a tiny wrapped package (he thought it was candy, but it was a little car).  Best of all, Dr. Vestal said that his blood counts looked good, and his last bone marrow was normal.  If he stays in remission until May, they'll stop all medication!   She said "It looks like he's one of the leukemia patients who makes it!".  I told Betty and she said, "I always thought he would be.  Now you and Petey will have to get used to living a normal life.  It will be hard."  Talk about casting a damper!  I didn't "always think so"-especially not when Peter had pneumonia, and Dr. Baskerville told me, "He's going to die".  I also don't think a normal life will be hard.  I just hope we can remember how to treasure every minute and live in the present.

July 31st, 1978: For the Love of Reading

Pete and I indulged in our chief form of recreation today.  We went to the library.  I took back two large grocery sacks, filled with books.  These included all but one of my haul from the State library.  Pete and I toured the art exhibit, pottery and stuffed hangings.  Three was a charming batik duck, and an array of pottery bird houses-along with an enigmatic pottery harvest moon.  Peter checked out a different version of "Peter Pan" (he has one, which, with Mia Farrow's, makes 3 different versions he's listed to) and I checked out the story of "The Nutcracker Prince" for him and "Jesus Christ, Superstar" for myself.  We read two of this choices, Conrad's Castle and A Dragon in the Clock Box for bedtime stories.  I couldn't decide which of my choices I was in the mood for, so I read some of Bridge's Ginger Griffin, and some of Eberhart's Wings of Fear.  Peter went to Vicky's house to play, so I shocked Daniel, our neighbor, by sitting on the front lawn reading (The Ginger Griffin).  Pete also varied his reading by insisting on reading my Betty Crocker Basic Baking cookbook tonight.  He carefully surveyed all the steps for making bread, rolls, pies, and cakes.  Then he wanted me to read it with him.  It's a good thing he does enjoy books since his activities are so limited in other ways.  He reminds me of The Little Lame Prince-instead of a magic carpet, he has books.

Sunday, September 2, 2018

July 29th, 1978: A trip to the big pool

Today Petey went swimming in a big pool for the first time.  Mary Jo, who is a life guard, took us to the Ontario Pool before it opened.  Pete had the inner tube Daniel (Mary Jo's father) gave him-and he floated in it happily-arms and legs hanging on to the tube and his little bottom dragging in the water in the center.  Then he stuck his head and arms through the tube and paddled with his hands while he kicked with his feet.  His feet kept sinking, then he'd wind up with his feet and legs in front of him.  I'd push his legs back up straight and he was off again.  He maneuvered pretty well-apart from a tendency to go in circles and to bump up against the walls of the pool.  Vicky went with us (she invited herself, but no one had the heart to refuse her) and she kept pushing his inner tube "boat" out to deeper water and I kept pushing it back to the 3' mark-both of which made Petey indignant because wanted to go "all by myself."  The water was icy.  My feet and legs adjusted to it, but when I decided to swim, my midriff could hardly stand the shock.  At my first stroke, my suit started to part company with my shoulder.  Petey thought it was very funny and told everybody in the neighborhood "Mommy lost her suit".  I slathered Pete with Mary Jo's sunscreen and he didn't burn at all...but I did!  We stayed in the water from 11:30am until 1:00pm, when I insisted on bringing Pete home for lunch (just in time to keep from blistering!).  I'm afraid Pete's wading pool has lost some of its glamour.

July 28th, 1978: The reluctant sleeper

It was over 100 degrees again today, and our house stayed HOT.  

Petey had trouble sleeping tonight.  He had a quick bath because he said he was so tired, and went to sleep with the sheet over him because he said he was cold.  He woke up about an hour later, shouting "Mommy! Mommy!".  I went in to see what was wrong and he asked me for a drink and a story.  I took him a glass of milk and read him Alfalfa Hill (very soothing, since it was about the coming of snow to the hill).  He said he was frightened but didn't remember why.  He settled down again, but shortly he drifted into the kitchen.  "I had my eyes shut but it didn't work...I couldn't sleep."  He sat on my lap and I rocked him.  Then he had a glass of lemonade and went back to bed, saying, "come talk to me."  We talked about Luke Skywalker -whether Maria would find his doll in Los Angeles, and about the people on his "Star Wars" poster who had "eyes but no mouths and look like angels."  Then we talked about what angels look like ("I thought you knew, Mommy") and about what "neutral" means.  I sang to him, all the hymns about Jesus I could remember, including "Away In A Manger".  I thought he'd gone to sleep, but then he sat bolt upright in bed and demanded another glass of lemonade.  He drank that without stopping for breath and lay down again.  H gave me a "goodnight hug" and a "goodnight kiss" and we said the "goodnight words"; "Sweet Dreams!  Try to have a good night's sleep".  Then his eyes closed, his breathing was deep and regular and, finally, he was asleep.

July 27th, 1978: On Basking Like Lizards

Betty said today her thermometer at the farm registered 118 degrees!  

Pete and I took a long walk up to the kindergarten (EDITOR'S NOTE: This was @ St. Matthew's Episcopal Church) and back @ 10:00am before it got too hot.  We came back and lay in the grass, face down in patches of white clover in the shade from the sycamore trees.  We could see a sliver of moon in the sky and Pete told me a long aimless story of the moon, the sun, their mothers, their fathers, and the moon's cousin-making different voices for each.  I was blissfully contented for that time.

Pete and I saw hollyhocks on our walk and I told him how to make a hollyhock doll with a fully opened flower for the skirt, and a bud for the head.  We drowsed in the shade and I made a clover chain (I never learned to make a daisy chain-we never lived where daisies were so abundant).  

Pete paddled in his pool today and splashed down the side.  Lolita waded in with him.  He soaked in the pool in the sun and pretended to go to sleep.  I would have liked to jump in too.

Then we walked to the Dairy Queen for an ice cream cone.  The day was sweltering but the Dairy Queen is air-conditioned, so we lingered over our cones.  Pete ate his inside so it wouldn't melt on the way home (but it still dripped a little vanilla ice cream on his fingers, and he licked it up).

In the evening we sat on the lawn and watched the sunset illumine the edges of clouds.  We wandered across the street for a desultory chat in the lengthening shadows, and finally-at 10:00pm, decided it was cool enough to go inside, having had our fill of basking like lizards in the sunny day.

July 26, 1978: Counting Blessings

I was just counting my blessings tonight.  Mom went home from hospital today.  Betty, Dad, and Mom stopped by briefly so I got to see her.

Pete played in his pool this afternoon and went to see "Star Wars" tonight (EDITOR'S NOTE: Reminder that Star Wars was the Star Wars of my generation!).  Janet and Terry took Pete and Fawn.  He was SO Excited, saying "IO know I won't get to go!  I know I won't get to go!"-on the brink of tears.  

He had his IVs today.  He got to give them himself again.  He was looking forward to that so much he almost forgot to say "ouch" when Dir. de la Paz started the IV.  She asked me if Pete got nauseated from the IVs.  Some of their patients vomit so much that they have to be admitted to hospital, but Pete went out and had lunch at the Dairy Queen.  He looks so healthy this summer.  His cheeks are rosy and pink (you can see has blood), and he plays all day, splashing in his pool, going for "bicycle walks" (he rides his bicycle on the sidewalk and walks it across the streets with my help), and playing endless games with the children in the neighborhood.  He plays cowboy, "Iron Man", "Batman & Robin", "Wonder Woman", house, and "Star Wars".  

His legs and back have started to pain him and tonight his stomach hurt, but so far half a Tylenol and a little gentle rubbing have been adequate cures.  He wanted to try a heating pad, but with the temperature over 100 degrees, I didn't think that was a good idea.  

He's having such a happy summer.  Whatever happens, I'll have all these good times to remember.

July 25th, 1978: On the ever present threat of War.

I was reading A Place To Stand today, about Americans living in Hungary at the time of the German takeover, and about the bombing of Budapest.  I was reminded of my kindergarten days.  We lived in San Antonio, in the midst of three military bases.  Dad brought home gas masks for all of us and we used to have bomb drills in the kindergarten.  We all had to hide under our desks in case the windows were broken and I remember playing in the Yard beside our windows and hearing a voice break in the middle of the music on the radio to say "we are at war".

I remember Madame Chiang Kai-shek's speeches to, and standing on a foot stool trying to emulate her.  I recall praying for my Uncle Eliot, who was in the Navy, every night.  

In San Francisco, when I taught there, we had nuclear attack drills.  At first, they tried to plan for some of the children to go home, but they finally had to concede that that much advance warning was unlikely.  I had a class of gifted children and when we had a drill they refused to go.  They said "If we're going to die anyway, we'd rather be doing our lessons."

During the Cuban crisis, one of the papers had big headlines "War with Cuba", and the children were sure we'd go to war.  And, of course, there was Vietnam.  A lot of the Navy ships left from Treasure Island in the  Bay.  

When I lived in Omaha, we were certain of being bombed because of the JAC missile sites there.  

Ontario, Oregon seems a long way from war and rumors of war.  I hope Petey can have the peaceful childhood I was denied here-and will learn to tie his shoelaces, not how to duck under a desk in kindergarten.

July 23rd, 1978 (Sunday): The Necklace

Today Sandy (EDITOR'S NOTE: Sandy was wife and partner to my Uncle Howard-the youngest sibling of Mom & Aunt Betty), Betty and I divided up some of Mom's jewelry.  Dad had asked Betty to do it while Sandy was here so she could pick something she wanted.  

I felt rather like one of the soldiers dicing for Christ's garment, but I was given back a necklace which has a curious history.  I used to sell my jewelry at a small florist's shop.  Then the owner was ill and had to go out of business.  I came in to collect my jewelry and she offered to sell me a Chinese soapstone pendant.  I liked it and gave her $20.00-just, as it happened-what she needed to finish paying the rent (the rent collector was there).  I got some white onyx beads and heavy gold coloured chain and made a necklace for it.  Robert Belog liked the necklace so much he gave me $25.00 for it and gave it to me as a present.  I wore it on a visit to my grandmother and she insisted it was so beautiful I ought to give it to my mother so I did.  While our house was being burgled three times in London, Mother kept the pendant safe at home.  When Stewart got my jewelry out of a safe deposit box in San Francisco, he pawned my diamond ring and antique gold earrings, but Mother still had my pendant.  So now I have it back-preserved only because I gave it away!

Betty also gave me back the Nell Gwyn (sp?) doll and the Anne Boleyn doll I had sent to Grandmother and to Mother.  All my souvenirs of England were left behind in London when I came home directly from Bermuda, but these dolls I have because I sent them home as gifts.  That's a result I hadn't foreseen.