Happy Mother’s Day to all you Moms out there!

I hope you enjoy the day and have the chance to see your child or children.

I had three sons. One died of leukemia at the age of two.

My sons are my treasure.

Though I must admit that I am sorry that I did not have a daughter.

My two sons each have two sons. They add to my treasure.

Enjoy your day!

Phyllis Bush, retired teacher, active member of the board of the Network for Public Education, learned last month that she has cancer.

She decided to blog about it because writing about it helps her cope. Her blog also displays her wit, her wisdom, and her courage.

Her blog is called “Kind of a Big Dill.”

In this installment, she reports the latest news from her oncologist. She plans to take her grandsons to a Cubs’ game, and she contemplates the likelihood of being bald, and what she will do about it.

Phyllis Bush is a retired English teacher in Indiana. She became active in the fight to save public schools in her state as the privatization movement gained steam under Mike Pence’s predecessor as governor, Mitch Daniels. Phyllis was one of the founders of Northeast Indiana Friends of Public Education. She is a powerhouse, a passionate advocate with a wonderful sense of humor, and a wise woman. I met her when I spoke in Indiana at Purdue-IU in 2010. She came to hear me speak, we spoke, and we stayed in touch. When Anthony Cody and I were assembling a board for the Network for Public Education, I immediately thought of Phyllis. She joined our new board and has become one of its leaders.

Phyllis got some bad news a few days ago. She posted the following on her Facebook page, and I asked for her permission to share it. She graciously assented.

She writes:

There is a cancer in the body politic. Our lawmakers seem more intent on playing to the voters they choose rather than on serving all of their constituents. We have grown to expect that the Super Majorities will be more concerned with consolidating and maintaining power and control than with with governance. At this point, I see very little chance for a cure of this cancer.

There is also a cancer in the body of Phyllis Bush. On Friday I was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. Even though what lies before me feels like a kick in the teeth, I have chosen to be annoyed rather than bummed; in fact, this diagnosis has allowed me to give new meaning to the word pissment. I usually share my middle school mean girl thoughts and potty mouth only with my friends; however, when I was in recovery after my surgery and my doctor gave me the word, all I could think to say was the F word.

I know that my doctors will provide me with a course of treatment options, and together we will decide on a course of action that will provide a cure. Unlike politicians, they are in the business of doing no harm.

Having said that, I know that my family and friends will love me, support me, and make me laugh.

There are way too many injustices that I need to rectify.

There are way too many politicians who need my advice and counsel–and my nipping at their heels like a rat terrier.

There are two grandchildren that I need to see grow up.

Along with thoughts and prayers, here are some other things you can do:

1. Prepare yourself with facts and go talk with a legislator. Leave a one page fact sheet with his or her legislative aide, explaining the issue and how it will benefit him or her.

2. Write a letter to someone you love–to your mom or dad, your grandfather or your grandmother, your grandson or your granddaughter asking them how they are and telling them who you are.

3. Never lose your sense of humor or your sense of wonder.

4. Adopt a rescue dog or cat.

5. Take a kid to the zoo and/or to Zesto.

Years ago when I was in the midst of a difficult time, I used to pop a cassette in the car, turn up the volume, roll down the windows, and sing “Nobody’s gonna break my stride; nobody’s gonna slow me down” at the top of my lungs.
…and that is what I intend to do.

In the following days and weeks, as I learn my course of treatment, you are welcome to follow along (if you wish) as I begin this new adventure.

I know that all of you will join me in sending hugs and prayers to our friend and ally, Phyllis Bush.

Watching the news on any given day is an exercise in masochism. We have to know what is going on, but it is usually not good.

Therefore I conclude that we must take long walks, listen to music, see plays, go to museums, do whatever we can to keep our souls nourished.

Last night, I went to see a parody of “Hamilton,” called “Shamilton.” It is playing at the Triad on West 72 Street in Manhattan. It was fun and hilarious. Christine Pedi, who is a host of the Sirius Broadway Channel, was producer and a member of the cast. I spoke to her afterwards and learned that her sister is an art teacher in a Yonkers middle school. Beforehand, I had oysters with my son and partner at the amazing Mermaid Inn on Amsterdam Avenue and 88 Street.

Go, if you can.

If you can’t, visit your community theater, support the arts, go to a museum, sing, dance, watch others singing and dancing, and re-invigorate your soul with the joy of the arts.

Since I have received several offers of legal help, I want you to know that the previous post by John Merrow was FAKE NEWS!

These days, it is hard to tell the difference between satire and reality. (Here is Andy Borowitz today, real or fake?) Borowitz is always humor, as is the Onion, but you would be surprised at the number of people who don’t recognize satire, parody, humor. On April Fool’s Day, I posted a piece from the Onion about VP Pence asking the waiter to remove the bottle of Mrs. Butterworth from his table until his wife arrived. Rather innocuous humor, yet a few people thought it offensive.

Here is the deal, folks. When you are in the public eye, when you are a celebrity or an elected official, you are a target for satirists. John Kennedy was often satirized, and he laughed heartily. Laughter is the best response to humor.

You could tell that Merrow’s piece was satire if you read it closely. One giveaway was that the Acting Assistant Attorney General is named Anthony B. Susan.

Then, those who know me know that my current dog is not in need of intensive counseling. She is a sweetheart. It is true, however, that I once adopted a shelter dog who had been passed from owner to owner, and she was a problem dog. She acted like a sea slug. She pooped all over the house. When I was at my wit’s end, I took a friend’s advice and called a dog counselor. She put the dog and me on a very rigid schedule, and I had to take notes of everything she ate and every time she urinated or defecated. The dog, a cocker spaniel named Lady, loved the schedule, became a fabulous dog, and I cared for her until she died of diabetes a few years ago.

There is one secret that the investigators did not unearth. One of my brothers wrote after he read the post and told me that his dog is transgender; it had urinary tract problems and had to be neutered. Keep it a secret!

Now you know the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

Last night, the blog passed the 30 million mark. That is the number of times that someone has opened a post.

I started the blog at the end of April 2012. Five years.

I have loved getting to know so many new people, if only virtually.

I have spent five years learning about What is happening many districts and states. I have read every one of the nearly 400,000 comments you have left. I draw upon what I have learned from you. You have been my teachers. I have tried to speak for children and educators. I have tried to keep in front of my mind a constant vision of what good education is and should be as I write.

Reaching the 30 million mark provides a reason for reflection. I enjoy the blogging but I plan to shift gears. I am spending too many hours a day on this; it is a full-time occupation. I don’t want it to feel onerous. I want to set limits for myself. I haven’t done that these past five years.

Here is my announcement. I have started writing my memoirs. I have so far written about 15,000 words. I am having so much fun doing it. Writing the blog has made me a better writer. Words flow more easily, as do feelings.

I don’t blog for myself. I blog because I am trying to give voice to the educators who have no public platform. I have opened the blog to teacher-writers to tell their stories. I have wanted to create a space for teacher-leaders to speak up. I wanted many people to feel emboldened to speak out.

I have wanted to build a movement against the assault on public schools and the teaching profession. That’s why I joined with Anthony Cody five years ago to start the Network for Public Education. Its membership has grown to more than 350,000 under the great leadership of Carol Burris.

I hope everyone who reads this is a member of the Network for Public Education. The fight for the future of public education has never been as perilous and crucial as it is now.

I need you. There is so much work to be done. I need allies, and I need successors.

We need to maintain the spirit of unity and outrage that came close to derailing Betsy DeVos’s appointment.

Wherever you are, be strong. Fight for the common good. Oppose the politics of greed and privatization. All of us together can protect our values, our children, our democracy.

Do not be discouraged by the current situation. Resistance works. Protest works. We shall overcome.

PS: I am not stopping the blog. Just announcing my determination to shift gears, slow down, be unpredictable. But it may take a long time to be noticeable, and it may not happen at all. Old habits die hard.

I am not much of a cook. When I was a little girl, I hung out in the playground, played baseball, read books, or climbed trees. I never hung out in the kitchen to learn about how to cook a dish or make a meal.

But now as an adult, I do know how to cook a few things. I have what you might call a very limited repertoire. I am great at making salads, guacamole, scrambled eggs, and chicken soup. Beyond that, well, I am over my head and just not interested. I was once asked to contribute a recipe to a collection that included recipes contributed by some important women. It was for our daughters, I recall, but I only have sons (both are better cooks than I am). I contributed my guacamole recipe. One of the contributors, I forget which one, offered this recipe: Open a box of cereal. Pour into dish. Add milk. My guacamole recipe was better than that! At least, it showed some thought and effort.

However, I just made my famous chicken soup. (Famous in an extremely limited circle of family, that is.) It is delicious, despite my lack of cooking skills and not that hard to make. It is the finish work that is time-intensive. It is best to make it in the winter, when hot chicken soup is needed. It is said to cure colds (Jewish penicillin), but I offer no guarantees.

To begin with, get good ingredients. Buy an organic chicken, if you can find it and afford it. They are cleaner than the packaged chicken in the supermarket (you can use that, too, just be prepared for more grit and stuff to float to the surface as you cook, which you must ladle off). The bigger the chicken, the better the flavor.

Put the chicken in your largest pot and add a lot of water. About 6-8 quarts, enough to cover the chicken. My soup pot is 9″ high and 12″ across. Do not skimp on the water.

Add the following:

A large onion, peeled and studded with about 3-4 cloves
Six big carrots, peeled and sliced.
An entire celery, cleaned and sliced.
3-5 large leeks, cleaned and sliced (don’t use the toughest ends of the leeks). Leeks can be dirty, so wash them well.
A bunch of parsley
A bunch of dill
Some peppercorns
Some salt
If you have it, throw in a peeled and cut-up turnip, a parsnip, scallions, etc.

Set the whole thing to a reach a low boil. When it comes to a boil, turn it down as low as you can without stopping the boiling or simmering. Cover with the top of the pot open very slightly to let off steam.

Let it simmer/boil for at least three hours. Then let it cool.

When you are done, this is the important thing you must do.

Put your largest bowl in the kitchen sink. Put a very large mesh strainer over the bowl. A colander won’t do, you have to go to the hardware or housewares store and buy a large mesh strainer, one that will sit comfortably over the bowl and the sink without touching the bowl. My mesh strainer is 10″ across and stretches across the bowl without touching it, balanced on the sink.

Use a large soup spoon and ladle out the greens and meat into the strainer, about a cup at a time. Separate the chicken meat and save it for chicken salad or whatever you want. Save the pieces of carrot for the soup.

Then as you put greens, onions, celery, etc in the strainer, mash it with the spoon until all the juice flows into the bowl below. That enriches the soup.

Repeat until you have squeezed out the juice from everything in the soup pot, saving the chicken and carrots for the future.

When you are done, you will have a large bowl of flavorful soup. Eat some now, freeze some for later. Be sure and date whatever you freeze. Depending on how much water you added, and how long you cooked it, you should have many servings of delicious chicken soup. And you will have a bowl of carrots that you can add to the soup now.

Now you have one of the very few dishes that I have ever cooked in my life.

Enjoy!

Monday I spoke in Commerce, Texas. Thursday I spoke to CalState leaders at San Diego State.

Mary joined me after being delayed 24 hours by the snowstorm in New York.

Today was a day to relax. With San Diego Superintendent Cindy Marten as our guide, we toured San Diego. She drove us to the Torrey Pines area, where there are stunning cliffs. We got out of the car to watch the paragliders. I had to do it. I have wanted to do it for years. I never have the chance before. And here it was: desire and opportunity combined! I signed up. I am now licensed as a pilot for the next 30 days.

Max was my co-pilot. A very handsome young man who promised to return me in one piece. The takeoff was a little challenging. We ran towards the edge of the 300′ cliff (after a brief blowback that crumpled my operated knee), and suddenly we were airborne. Soaring.

We were in the air for about 20 minutes. This is what got edited down.

Today marks the 50th anniversary of the death of my beloved two-year-old son Steven, known as Stevie. He died of leukemia on this date in 1966. It was the worst thing that ever happened in my life. Parents are supposed to die before children, not children before parents.

I remember everything about his diagnosis, about the stunned reaction of my husband and me, about his many hospitizations and remissions, and then, his death, at 4 am on December 14.

He was such a beautiful, happy, loving child. I have happy memories of him when he was healthy. Then came the terrible day in May 1966 when we learned why he was having trouble walking. At that time, there was no cure. Most of the drugs he took were experimental. They worked for a few weeks, then he began getting bruises and it was back to the hospital.

It was a hard time for the family, especially his older brother, who was four and could not understand what was happening.

His father, now my ex-husband, established a chair in pediatric hematology at Mount Sinai Hospital in Stevie’s name. When it was formally opened, I spoke to the doctor who holds the chair and asked him about the state of leukemia research today. He told me that most kids now survive–I think he said 80-90%–and that made me happy for them but sad that Stevie lived at the wrong time.

A few months ago, I saw a documentary about cancer on public television. The first episode included a lot of footage about childhood leukemia. It showed the desperate parents, the doomed children, the race to find an effective treatment. If I recall correctly, the first child to survive this scourge developed the cancer in 1964 or 1966. Her drug cocktails worked. She was at the Dana Farber Cancer Center in Boston. Stevie was at the Children’s Blood Center at New York Hospital. His drug cocktails did not work.

I lit a yahrtzeit candle for him. I sometimes wonder what kind of person he would have been. I know he would have been kind, cheerful, happy, and loving. That’s the kind of child he was.

These past few weeks have been very difficult for many of us. For the first time in my long life, I fear that our country is going backward, not forward. We have had bumps along the way and regressions from our ideals and dreams. We have had too many wars. We have way too much poverty. We have too much indifference to the sufferings of others. But throughout my life, I have thought that we were moving in the right direction, incrementally but surely. Not now.

This election has been a source of great anxiety for me and many others. We were not prepared for a candidate like Trump, for a man who blithely lied throughout the campaign and who appealed to the basest instincts of the electorate and made promises that he had no intention of keeping. We were not prepared to believe that a man with so many business failures and ethical lapses could be elected president. We–I, especially–did not believe that the American people would fall for his promises, his lies, and his bombast. He was selling snake oil and he knew it. Didn’t everyone see it? They didn’t, and now we face the prospect of a government made up of retreads from previous Republican administrations and denizens of the far-right underground. Who knew that Trump’s promise of “change” meant that the editor of Breitbart news would have an office in the West Wing? Who knew that “change” meant an Attorney General who was turned down by a Republican-led Senate for a federal judgeship because of his racist remarks and actions? Who knew that “change” meant the appointment of a billionaire ideologue, a rightwing extremist committed to replacing public schools with vouchers and charters?

Instead of fresh faces and new ideas, we get an administration determined to roll back the New Deal and return to the 1920s or the 1890s.

Ah, but we still have much to be thankful for.

I am thankful, to begin with, for life. I have had many physical challenges in the past few years, some of them life-threatening, but I am still here.

I am thankful for my loving partner, Mary, who shares my life and helps me survive from day to day.

I am thankful for my children and grandchildren, who give me great joy. I am grateful that I can watch them grow in maturity and goodness and kindness.

I am thankful for my five living brothers and sister and sorely miss the brother and sister who died far too soon.

I am thankful to be an American, to live in a country where we have a Constitution and the First Amendment and the rule of law to protect our freedoms.

I am thankful to live in a society where we can organize and assemble to speak out for what we believe.

I am thankful for my friends, who have stood by me through thick and thin.

I am thankful for those who read my writings and those who publish them.

I am thankful for my friends at the Network for Public Education who are passionate about resisting the privatization of public schools.

I am thankful for the many people who want to make America the nation of liberty, justice, and equality for all that it is supposed to be.

We will organize, we will assemble, we will write, we will speak, we will make documentaries, we will write plays, we will write parodies and satires, we will paint and draw and sing and laugh. They can’t stop us. We will not acquiesce. We will resist. We will defend our ideals and our dreams.

We will fight to protect our public schools. We will not let the Trump administration privatize them. They belong to the public and we will not allow them to steal public funds for private profit or private purposes.

Today is a day to thank God for our blessings. (If you are an atheist, just be thankful.)

Count your blessings.