Chaos.

Now, that there’s no crossing guard present, kids flow across the street after school in waves that stop traffic for five minutes at a time. The kids see an opening and they all cross, all at once. Or, stragglers that face the busy street wait till there are no cars and then sprint across the street like they’re being followed by a rabid dog. There’s no one there to control the flow of traffic. There’s no one there to make sure the kids cross at the crosswalk. There’s no one to stop that irritating skinny kid from picking a fight with the kid with the glasses.

There’s chaos with no crossing guard. The walkers continue to walk, for the most part, only a few taking advantage of the two minute bus trip across the street. The girl walked, and is determined to continue to walk. The girls down the street took the bus, for the adventure of it, I think. Maybe it’s safer. Who knows?

Somebody send us a crossing guard.

Last time I returned from a business trip, the boy and the girl greeted me, clutching their swollen, distended bellies and cried, “we’re starving! There’s nothing to eat.”

Of course that meant there was good food in the pantry; soups and crackers and healthy stuff in the fridge like tangelos, apples, celery and lettuce.

Those facts, and the fact that I returned a whole day later than planned, made my guilt rise like a Pillsbury biscuit. I’m facing another business trip this week and another two weeks after that, so guilt drove to the grocery store and despair loaded the cart.

Another challenge facing the family — the baking element in the oven sparked, flamed and generally gave up the ghost this week, putting an end to all oven-cooked foods for the near future (the part is on order and will arrive most likely next week.) This turn of events, however, eliminates the easy solutions of frozen pizzas and other “mom’s gone” standbys. I had to stick with the already-made, stove top cookable or microwaveable foods.

The pantry is loaded (I even remembered to get Clover some food) and the fridge is stocked. Hopefully there will be something left when I return!

Last night in my dreams we came upon a book store that wasn’t there before. Instead of a door, the whole front swung open. We entered because we like book stores and because it was the only store open. In my dream, we were in St. Louis. Inside, we found that every book was by the same author; an older woman with a penchant for bunnies. We were about to leave when one of the ancient shopkeepers pointed out that there was a basement, and we might find something to our liking there. We decended again and again, finding floors below (maybe eight, maybe 18) with antiques, or were they simply furnishings from another time? Someone said, “You know what this is, don’t you? It’s the area’s largest bomb shelter.” And so it seemed, as there were accomodations for all, basement upon basement with shag rugs, couches and hanging lamps.

Upon waking, I couldn’t place the dream, didn’t know where these thoughts could have come from, then I recalled drifting to sleep, thinking of Steven Fitzpatrick Smith and his thoughts on thermonuclear war.

“When I was a kid,” he said, “I was terrified of being nuked by the Russians.”

Absolutely! We all were (remember that?) and our entertainment reflected it. We watched Red Dawn and Wargames (do you want to play a game?), listened to Russians and 99 Luftballoons and waited for this feeling they called the Cold War to go away. Well it did, finally, and was replaced by a different kind of war. The dream, and trying to recapture what the Cold War felt like took me back to an era that could not have anticipated this post-9/11 existence.

In the bookstore/shelter (interesting analogy, given how I feel about books and reading) there were many people who had been there as long as the furnishings, browsing and worrying for generations.  

It’s a snow day here, in Albemarle County, or more appropriately, an ice day. Neighbors are chiseling away at driveways so they can get on the slippery roads to work. Since the schools are closed, it will be yet another day before we can face the school crossing guard controversy; another day before the absence of those orange vested guardian angels is noted, and fought.

A father of a friend of the girl’s has a theory: it’s a conspiracy! he says. It goes like this: the teachers don’t want to be crossing guards anymore, so the school researched hiring a police officer for before and after school duty. Funding wasn’t available, the police department didn’t want to do it , and then pointed out that it was illegal for teachers to be performing this duty anyway. The school, knowing how Albemarle parents get riled up and like to take action, decided to quickly remove the guards, secure in the idea that parents would force the issue and an officer would ultimately be placed at the intersection.

Am I a pawn in a conspiracy? Could be. Do I care? Not really. If the end result is the same, who cares how we get there? 

In a stunning move by the County, we’ve recently been notified that the elementary school will discontinue crossing guard services. The Albemarle County Police Department says that it is illegal for anyone other than a uniformed police officer to direct traffic.

I haven’t been this riled up since my neighbor tried to weed my garden.

The crossing guard is a time honored icon. Where will the frame of reference for all those cold medicine and soup commercials go, if we lose our crossing guards nationwide? Who else will wear day-glo orange and assert an authoritative presence outside our neighborhood schools? We chose our home, in part, because it is close — within walking distance — of the elementary and middle school. This seemed like a huge plus to us. Walking is healthy! Now, though, because of the discontinuation of the crossing guards, the schools are providing bus services for all walkers, meaning the girl will now walk about seven houses down the street to catch a bus that will drive her across a street and into a parking lot. What’s this all-bus policy going to do for the obesity problem? As fewer and fewer kids walk, ride bikes or scooter to school, will they become more and more sedentary?

Surely it would be more cost-effective to place an officer there as a crossing guard, instead of providing buses to the hundred or so kids that live close enough to walk to school. Surely they could deputize a few parents and teachers to be uniformed, official, legal crossing guards. Surely they don’t expect my kid to take a bus one block rather than walk.

The kids themselves are apalled. Raised as little eco-sensitive creatures, the additional pollution and energy waste of an unnecessary bus route breaks their little green hearts.

I did a little research this evening (which means a friend of mine called her brother who is a cop) to find out what crime I might be charged with (hypothetically) were I to help schoolchildren cross the street come Monday, when this all goes into effect. The brother (not an Albemarle officer) said the offense would be “obstruction of traffic” and probably ticketable. If a person were to persist, then he or she could be arrested.

Interesting.

Time to pick out an outfit that will stop traffic for Monday.

**Update: Want your kids to be able to walk to school safely?

Contact:

Del. Rob Bell
58th District
2 Boars Head Place #100
Charlottesville, VA 22903
Local Office: (434) 245-8900
Richmond Office: (804) 698-1058
E-mail: delegaterobbell@aol.com

Airlines + Bad Weather + Long weekend = a delayed return to Charlottesville. I left town on Thursday, planning to return Monday night and with all the freezing rain and snow occurring in areas north and west of St. Louis, I ended up getting reticketed for a Tuesday morning flight. I went, as usual, to St. Louis for work but drove over to Springfield, Ill. to visit my parents with my sisters for the weekend. We celebrated Mom and Dad’s fiftieth wedding anniversary together. It was fun — Mom got out of the hospital Friday afternoon and was full of energy the whole weekend (steroids do have that effect).

We accomplished quite a bit of planning for the anniversary party, including scanning photos from the wedding album. The party will be held in June in New York state at the same place where Mom and Dad had their wedding reception in 1957.

There was lots of news in St. Louis over the weekend with the ice storm shutting down power to half a million homes and making driving interesting (it took us four hours to get to Springfield Friday night). But the BIG story was the return of Shawn Hornbeck and Ben Ownby to their parents. Quite a thrilling news story. Oprah will host the families on her show today; I’ve Tivo’d it. I clearly remember when Shawn disappeared from the St. Louis area four years ago so to hear that he’d been found was stunning. People all over the nation will be captivated as this story continues to unfold.

It was an exciting weekend but I am very glad to be back where I belong.

Because I don’t like to clean as much as I like to write posts on this here blog and other blogs as well, I bought one of these.

Installation was a snap. Retail is about $20 but here’s a coupon for $5 off. So far so good. I’ve put it in the kids’ bathroom because, frankly, they don’t clean the bathroom as often as I’d like or as well as I’d like so, rather than getting all martyr-ish and bemoaning the time I have to spend scrubbing it, this is my solution. I’ll give you an update in a couple of weeks and let you know if it really works.

“My mom is in the hospital.”

As soon as the words left my mouth I realized how many, many times in my life I’d uttered that sentence. Maybe not exactly how many, but I know it’s a lot. My mom is an amazing person, quite healthy under the circumstances. She has Type 1 diabetes and as part of “the greatest generation” does quite well, sidestepping the health issues people who have had diabetes for nearly 50 years typically have.

This time, it’s bronchial distress and a cough that just won’t go away, that has landed her in a shared room. You should hear her though: there’s a television and a card with a menu! I just pick up the phone and order and they bring it to me! You’d think she was at the Ritz.

So she’s there, and I’m here, but fortunately she’s supposed to get off for good behavior by Friday, when I’ll be swinging into town to visit.

She said, “I feel like a professional baseball player.” I’m sure she looks like one too, all pumped up and buff from the steriods they’re using to settle her cough. No Hall of Fame for her, that’s for sure.

Former St. Louis resident Baton Bob is, again, featured on CNN.

A few people in the ‘Lou just couldn’t figure Bob out, so he moved to Atlanta and has never looked back. Glad to know he’s still doing well, still a-twirlin’ and marchin’. Watch the whole video for a sneak peek into his apartment and his fab wardrobe closet at the end.

Watching TV on the couch tonight, the girl propped her giant feet on my lap. I can call them giant because they’re a mere half size from mine. Over the weekend I washed her sneakers and she put them on this morning and poof! they no longer fit. I said, “I hope your feet don’t get as big as your brother’s.”

She said, “That won’t happen.”

I said, “I don’t know; you have the same genes.”

“We do not,” she said, “He has Frankenjeans.”

After I finished laughing, (do you know how hard 34 waist, 38 inseam is to find?) I said, “No, genes, like genetics, what you inherit from your parents.” I guess they don’t teach genetics to fourth graders. We’re so behind.

So we moved on to Frankendresses, Frankenshoes, Frankenfeet. We’re the Frankenfamily, don’t bother with our Goodwill donations.