Friday Tidings

I didn’t realize our relationship was so broken until I was left holding the pieces.  It was then that I finally realized how controlling you really were. You made me feel like I had to have you with me everywhere I went.  I couldn’t leave the house without you. Of course, it also meant that you’d be clinging to me even if I did try and sneak off by myself.  I’ve read about relationships like ours....it starts out normal, but then gradually the one in control manipulates every aspect of life together....even during sleep. You made me feel guilty with your testy reminders that I wasn’t doing enough for you. As if YOU were the only one that mattered.  Freedom from you is the best thing that’s happened to me. This social isolation we're going through is hard, but your control of me has been worse. I just didn’t see it until now.  Enough. I’m breaking up, and I’m not coming back. I already feel free of your bondage.  And you can just keep al

David Kramer, son of Heinrich Researching my German ancestors has been a great way to use my isolation time. They weren’t famous, but they sure were gutsy wheat growers.  In 1763, Russia’s Czarina Catherine II invited them to take a 2000-mile trek to a remote section along the banks of the Volga River. Together they built wooden shacks for their homes and constructed shared barns for their animals.  In the center of what they named, Warenburg, they built their church. The Russian government allocated each family 80 acres of land and provided them with plows, wagons, tools, and seed, until the first wheat harvest. If I ever complain about life being hard, please call me on it. My ancestors faced brutal winters and awful growing conditions. The worst days were when marauders would strike—carrying off young men and women as slaves. By the time America declared its independence in 1776, 4000 of the original 27,000 Germans had lost their lives. If you catch me com

My sister really wanted a horse. But the rules of the house required lessons first. So, Mom signed us both up for classes at a huge horse ranch and arena.  I could see my sister’s excitement, as for me, I just smelled the horses and the hay. We were led to the stables, where the instructor sized us up and matched us to our horse. A stable hand had already saddled the horses and we led them by their reins to the arena. About six other kids joined us in an hour long lesson. This was only the beginning. We were taught how to mount these huge creatures. I always needed help. Then we’d slowly trot around the arena. As the weekly lessons followed, my sister got more enthused and better at horsemanship. She saved every babysitting dollar she earned for her own horse. Me, on the other hand, hoped the lessons would soon end.  Then, just a few lessons later, we had to saddle our horses before class. This meant entering the stall, saddle in hand, lofting it up onto his

Mrs. Martin, the school librarian, approached me as I ran my fingers over the spines of the library books on the shelf. I wasn’t interested in any of them, and I think she knew.  We’d been sent to the library to find a book to read during the breaks in our annual school testing.  “Here, take this one. I think you’ll like what Miranda does during her summer.”  I reluctantly checked out the book and returned to class. Mandatory reading was never my thing, but neither was school testing. So, I opened the book during the breaks and I escaped into Miranda’s world. Reading didn’t miraculously change my circumstances, but it sure helped me learn about a world besides my own. March is National Reading Month—an effort to get everyone reading more every day. With a plethora of fake news, enticing clickbait, and shocking headlines, this could be the most critical time to encourage more reading amongst us all. It’s so easy to scroll social media and catch the quick posts and t