I Don’t Do Hoops.
Just for the record, I could have predicted that after a winter of relatively mild proportions, we would encounter the snowstorm of the season, just because I need to get off the mountain, and hightail it down to Ukiah. It is hammering out there. Unless it turns to rain sometime soon, I am going to be hurtin’ for certain. I got up at 1:40, a bit later than usual, but then I did not retire last night until ten. Three hours, forty minutes. About the usual, and I will not be napping during my travels today.
I have an appointment at the courthouse. I think a lot of our community has an appointment at the courthouse. I have to tell you, I do not think today’s court appearance is going to amount to anything more than a continuation of the process. That’s the way these things work. When the Wellspring Education Collective * was becoming familiar with the judicial process, back in the eighties, we went to a whole passel of non-court events. We got real used to ping-ponging back and forth from the mountain, to the valley, so to speak. It comes with the territory.
So today, my guess is close to two hundred people are going to flood the courthouse, only to find that the fireworks have fizzled, and it’s time to go home. That’s actually just fine. After all, we want to support Miranda, Kaiden (KCF! KCF! KCF!), David, Lucy, Josh, and all of the rest of Jamal’s “family,” 200 of whom are making their way down to Ukiah. We want to make a scene; we want to create a ruckus. We want every facet of the jurisprudential process put under our communal magnifying glass. It’s hard to ignore two hundred people.
So we all bundle up, bring our umbrellas along, and traipse down to Ukiah, where we will all seek out a place of refuge for our vehicles, made more challenging by our numbers. Then what? We all turn around and go home. But we will have accomplished something, nonetheless. We will have demonstrated that we are a consumed community. We are consumed with righteous anger, and a fierce determination to show the world that we will never forget what happened in Redwood Valley.
And not to change the subject, but as far as this writing goes, I got to tell you, it isn’t any big “thang,” at least not to this old language arts teacher. I sit down at Terra Jean, my lappie, each morning, with a vague idea of where I am going, and when I stand up, about 45 minutes later, Terra Jean has a piece of writing on her screen.
Now, I was going to jump into a saucy tale of the misadventures of Savannah and Chelsea, when it came to schooling me in the new technology (obviously not new to them) of texting, but then this doggoned snow decided to make an appearance. That’s because Anna Banana suggested to me last night, that I move the truck up to the top of our driveway, and park it on Bell Springs Road, so as to be able to get out of here, if we get dumped on. Of course, I ignored the suggestion.
No, I said, I will be up and able to monitor the situation. If it gets nasty, I can go ahead and take care of business. If not, I will save myself the inconvenience of having to “boot up” (sorry) and get all my winter gear on, so as to be able to make my way back down to the house, after parking the truck on Bell Springs, pointed in the down direction. If we are on Bell Springs when we get inundated, we stand a better chance of making our escape.
What’s ironic about this whole flapdoodle with our local “newspaper,” is that I have been writing for close to a year now, without any particular concern about whether anyone reads my stuff or not. After all, how would anyone know? Normally one solves that problem by having something published, but in order to get something published, you must leap through a series of hoops. With my jenky knees, that isn’t going to happen. I don’t do hoops.
So I continue to write about a variety of subjects that interest me, mostly about me. I know more about myself, than any other subject. Whatcha gonna do? However, the notion that I need or care about this backwoods publishing “company,” has got to be the most asinine thing I ever heard. LOL, hysterically. I have discovered FaceBook. Any prior “fixation” I may have entertained, that involved our local paper, has skittered off of the razor-sharp, cottage cheese, recesses of my brain. I have decided that Carolyn P. is right: why would I want to include my name, with such an amateurish production? Give me one of a couple of Sarahs, a Jessica or two, a Michael, a Casey, a Lindsay, an Erin, a Tai Jai, a Sean, a Lito, you get the idea, just give me a few of any of a hundred of my former students, and I guarantee that we could put out a top-shelf bit of entertainment.
And you’ll never guess. It’s raining. I may get out of here after all. See you in Ukiah.
* I wrote 29 installments of The Rise and Fall of the Wellspring Education Collective, and posted them on my blog, last fall.