I'm such a hick

Hammering away at this floor   good night I thought I would never be done.  but at last i am of course I have every garbage can i own full of concrete and tile  dumpster is suppose to come next week because of course I didn't plan ahead.   Plan ahead  what is that i don't know why this is all underlined it is quite frustration.  but maybe I'm just saying important things.  not.     Now I'm starting on the walls.   I have to go to the hardware store to get caps for the water before I can yank out the sink.      Remember I have a one year deadline to put this back together.  lol

The pink bathroom must die.

The toilet chose it own death a few months ago.   It refused to work properly.  So it was replaced by a beautiful new high toilet.   I love this toilet.     It will come back to the new improved bathroom.    I'm not big on pedistal sinks.    It will go.    I like the eruoopean sink that has a small cabinet and the sink in big and roundish.   The tub will die.  I'm putting in a new jacuzee  tub.      and the cabinet has already injured me twice so it will go.

The floor is beautiful but it is pink.  uh yuck  and more yuck.    I started and the wall by the door and of course it in backed by concrete so it only took me an hour to do a 3ft square.  and the floor is going to make me wish I hadn't started.  but it is going. 

I now need your opinion.    do I replace the tile with tile or plaster and paint?

do I tile around the tub or do and insert?

What kind of vanity do you like?

lights above the vanity?   what kind.

Ok now I spend my christmas vacation killing the bathroom.    only to hope it rises from the ashes new and improved.   I do promise you it will not be pink.

Josh destroyed my kitchen

a year ago Josh came down and got interested in fixing my pocket door. I purchased a kit online that was suppose to replace your pocket door track w/0 tearing up the wall. ahhh yeah sure. didn't happen.

I decided to take advantage of the opportunity and replace the range hood with a microwave. of coourse in order to do this I had to shorten the cabinet and rewire the electricity and retile part of the wall. So one year later I have the project done.   or relatively done.

Then of course I had this dream of having a moveable counter  on the opposite wall as my sink.   My sons made a bar for thier college apt.   They gave it to a friend upon graduation.  The friend no longer had room for it so they gave it to me.   I shortened the bar by a foot to make it counter height and put a larger top on it.     Now joel is working with his heat press to make tile counter top with a design in it.     My goal for this project is christmas 2009 but I have hope.  

the interesting thing about my energy is I will work around the clock for a week and then not touch the project for another year.  haha       I did tell myself that I had to finish last year's project before I started this years.   and I did.   I've had surplus energy for two weeks now.    so the projects are moving along.    I'm going to start another blog to tell you about my next project.   

Just hang him in the closet.

I was the shortest 1st grader in the world.   I knew I was small but really didn't realize how small until I watched my son go through the stages being incredibly small for his age.  When I was 6,  I had the body of a 3 year old.   I was the 14th of John and Rozanne's  19 children.   I was a talkative little character.    I was very impulsive and rarely listened to directions.     To give you an idea of how active I was when I got to third grade,  Ms. Harris took away my chair and made a masking tape square around my desk as a boundry for my movement.  My teacher in first grade was Ms. Falley.     She was a wonderful lady that wore lots of bright colors and smiled when she asked me to listen for the 100th time.   As outgoing as I seemed to be I was also afraid of many things.    I was quick to misinterpret simple things that often got me into trouble.   

First grade was my first year of school.   My younger sister Elizabeth was the first to go to Kindergarden.     At Wapella grade school the first grade classroom was in the "new" wing.   It is part of the building that was kept as a community center after the building was torn down.   There were two classrooms in the wing.   Ms. Falley and Mrs. Clark's.    Mrs.  Clark was a contrast to Ms. Falley.   She wore very conservative clothes.  She pulled her hair back.   When I heard her, she spoke is strong strict tones.  The class had been introduced to Mrs. Clark on the first day of school.    I was afraid of her, more because I didn't know her, because she was a lovely lady.

Growing up in a large family I knew the importance of getting places quickly.    The last name Karr put me smack in the middle of the line.   In first grade it seemed we were lining up all the time.   I was always anxious about where we were going.  I constantly talking.    I wanted to follow rules, and with the exception of talking  I did what I was told.  My mother rarely had to discipline me because I was always afraid of what might happen.

One day in the fall we were lining up in the hallway to go out for a recess before the bus arrived to take us home.   I was my usual self and was asking Tina Johnson where we were going.  Mrs Clarks class was joining us.   Mrs. Clark saw me talking and called me over.   She told me that I needed to learn to stand quietly when in line.   She asked me to follow her to her room.   The room was small and had a cloak room at the back of the room.   This large closet with a door at each end was were children would hang there coats and leave there lunch buckets.   At first Ms. Clark had me stand by the door while she worked at her desk.  I squirmed around so she walked me to the cloak room.   She had me step up on the bench and she hooked my collar on a coat hook.   She told me that I was to stay put and that I was not to make a sound.   I did as I was told.  I stood there and stood there and stood there.     I counted nail holes.  I watch a spider on the wall.    Every time I started to squirm I could hear Ms. Clarks words inside my head and I'd stand still.  I'm sure I could have unhooked myself but the longer I stood the worse my imagination got me thinking that bad things would happen.

The busses left and some time later when the others 13 children arrive home without me my mother got concerned.  She drove to Wapella and found the school locked.   She was finally able to get a janitor to let her in the building.    She walked down the hallway to my classroom calling my name and I answered.   I don't remember if I teacher was with her.   

I didn't expect any sympathy from my mother and I didn't receive any.   She told me to march right out to the car.   The station wagon was full on family.  I had to climb over the back seat to the area for the "little kids".    There wasn't a lot said about the incident.   

Some time later when I was sharing with my older sister Dottie that I was afraid of Ms. Clark. My mother told me that Dorothy Clark was my god-mother and that her son John was my
god-father. I was outraged and screamed "did you    run out of people to ask by the time I was born" She said no that Ms. Clark was a good friend and good teacher.  I was born early  with small birth weight.  I was baptised shortly after my birth. 

Of course I did learn to love Ms. Clark. She had retired before I got to high school and helped
out with grade school classes, but I would stop by her house for tea every so often and tell her
about my dream of being a teacher.   She would share many stories of her early years of teaching.   I loved her stories.  

I believe She taught her entire career on a two year certificate, which was all that was required when she started teaching. She was such a lovely lady. I got a card from her, when I graduated with a BS in Business Education. When I got my masters in Special Education, I went by Dorothy's and she hugged me and said she thought I would make a wonderful elementary teacher.   After a long conversation I left ready to take on the world.  Dorothy had a wonderful way of letting you feel god love in very simple ways.   She would share her "blessing" and I knew that teacher was a way I could change children's lives.
That was the first time I felt teaching was a calling from God.

I don't ever remember having a conversation with Dorothy's son

Dip Dip Dip Dip

I'm not sure if more nutty things happen to me or if I just enjoy the things that happen to me more.

Two weeks ago I was walking my dogs about 10 blocks from home and saw a pond liner that was sat out for trash. I threw it over my head and walked home with the two dogs and a pond liner. I figured I could find a home for it. I have a 6 foot wide 2 foot deep pond in my patio area. I was sure I could get the one I picked up set up for someone else. Well when I started catching my goldfish to move them in to aquariums for the winter I realized they had babies and there were tons of them. So I set up the pond I garbage picked at the end of my garage as a winter home for my goldfish. Pretty boring so far huh. Well I woke up on Friday and thought that I would just scoop a few of the fish to make sure it was good for everyfish.

My dog pippen is a 9 lb boston terrier. He is hearing impaired and isn't very bright. I love him to death but they poor thing sometimes forgets to jump when he wants on the couch and literally bangs into the side of the couch. Freeda, my Morky (Maltise/Yorky) is 7 lbs of terror and keeps Pippen in line most of the time. Pippen has the love for brooms and rakes. He loves to bark at them when you use them. He will see my raking and zoom from whereever he is to attack the rake.

Friday morning when I decided to go fishing in my little pond I put on thick sweats and started scooping for fish. Well, evidently my swishing the net looked like a rake to Pippen, cause he came running. One bark and splash. Pippen doesn't swim any better than he walks. His doggy paddle looked more like a suiside attempt. I reach for him. He moves. I stretch and go head over heels into the pond. Cold Cold Cold Cold omg Cold. My sweatsuit soaked up so much water. Pippen in hand I laughed and cried at the same time. Freeda stood on the side of the pond and barkes and barked. She was the only sinceable one there. Did I mention this was at 5:00 a.m. poor fish thought there world was coming to an end I'm sure. Talk about the sky falling.

I finially got myself out of the pond. dropped my clothes in the garage and pippen and I ran in for a hot shower. Poor Pippen was shivering and shaking. After I dressed and got Pippen all wrapped up in a towel I went out to put my clothes in the washing machine. I picked them up and a goldfish fell out. After giving the fish mouth to mouth I put it in the indoor pond. (I didn't really give the fish mouth to mouth but I did have to swish it around a few times to get it swimming again. Fortunately this morning it was still alive and swimming.

All of this and I still made it to work on time.

Welcome to the life of Deano

Oh The Lord's been good to me!

When I was in college one hundred years ago, christopher columbus and I used to take marathon walks. Ok Chris wasn't there, I usually walked by myself but it wasn't uncommon for me to walk around Normal late into the night. It would clear my mind and I could solve all of the world's problems. One night I walked past The Baby Fold which was a residential program for children. I heard a tiny voice singing. I couldn't hear the words but the melody stuck in my head. I was always looking for a second of their part time job so a week later I went by and applied. The interview was grewling and you had to do a phycological screening. Needless to say I didn't get the job. But a month later they called me and asked if I would interview aqain. I had made an impression on one of the interviewers. The second interview was role playing. I felt like I was applying for a theatre group rather than a job working with children. one of the role plays was about abused children.

The scene they discribed was like children in the attic. I got so wrapped up int he role play that I started crying. I became that unwanted child whose world was tied in knots. The I'm sure highly educated observers began asking me questions as if I were the child. It was difficult to shake that experience. I admire actors that can take on difficult roles and then walk away from the. I got the job. I was hired for 16 hours a week (two weekend shift) but many times I subbed for others. They gave me the group of abuse children who chose not to communicate. That talked to themself or not at all. They rocked, they swayed, they hummed. These children were drawn to me like insects to the light. I was assigned to work with two children. but I would sit on the floor to read a book and I soon at 8 children in my lap.

I met Bonnie, the little girl whose singing I had heard on my late night walk. You have seen poor little abused dogs that cower and will not make eye contact and don't like you to look at them. That was Bonnie. Bonnie wore shift dresses and would shred them in her worry. She would work at a hem of the dress between her fingers until it was threads. Her hair was a bundle of knots where she had twisted it. She ate with her fingers and preferred to be under the table. Her walk was more of a monkey walk, very cautious as if the next step might be a land mind. She used a system of grunts and points to make requests. Bonnie loved my stories and would scurry into the room but stayed at a good 10 ft distance from me. She would make high pitch noises if anyone came close to her. The other children avoided Bonnie. She would listen while she sat on her knees with head down and her hands over her head. Much like a child in a storm drill. At night Bonnie would sit on her knees on her bed and rock from side to side. Eyes closed hugging herself. Late into the nigh she would sing "Oh the lords been good to me, And so I thank the lord, Oh the lords been good to me and so I thank the lord Oh the lords been good to me and so I thank the lord. Her tiny voice was high and the melody would dance with her words.

Of course just as a child I wanted to help the poor little animals I found around my father's farm. My heart went out to Bonnie. Baby Fold had rules about not becoming too attached to a child, and Bonnie was in my group but not one of the children assign directly to me. So I played the game and did not initiate any contact with Bonnie. but Bonnie loved my stories. either from a book or just one of my how I got sprayed by a skunk stories. As I would finish a story Bonnie would become agitated, so I told as many stories as my time and other duties would allow.
My story time was during freeplay and children could choose what they wanted to do during the time. So I didn't always have a large audience but I always had Bonnie. One Saturday we had a zoo person bring in a snake and talk about snakes at the zoo. While the other chidren were excited and huddled close to see. Bonnie retreated to her room. I took a book and went to a different part of the living space and read a book to myself. I was baiting Bonnie. When I saw Bonnie peaking around the corner of her bedroom door I turned my back to her and continued reading. I could hear Bonnie sloppy footsteps creaping closer. I kept reading. Bonnie came right up to me and sat with her back against mine. When the story was finished she said "I am five" I said "I am twenty-one". She said "My name is Bonnie and I am a good girl" As long as we were back to back she continued to share. From that day on anytime I was sitting on the floor. Bonnie was sitting behind me back to back. She always listens closely to stories, then she would share what she liked or didn't like. What she loved to do was tell me what everyone else did when I wasn't there. Always about other children never about herself. The behavior modification training at The Baby Fold was trying to make Bonnie request things the proper way, sit at the table the right way. eat with a fork or spoon. She had pages and pages of goals to socialize her. Bonnie one day asked a question I was always a listener I didn't ever question her about anything because I wasn't her "special person" they called them. I was not allowed to spend time with her when I wasn't working where I was encouraged to spend time with other children that were assigned to me. Bonnie's question was Why? I said "I don't know why she swallowed the fly I guess she'll die" She said Why fork, Why chair Why comb Why bed Why oh why. Sitting there with her head down her tied up hair falling around her tattered dress. I said "my lovely Bonnie they want you to play the game" She said Oh it is a game. Oh I like games (she really didn't but I didn't argue with her) But that was the turning point in Bonnie's willingness to socialize and learning to follow those silly rules about eating and sitting and talking. Whe she would retreat we would say It's ok Bonnie it's a game. That spring our group spend a lot of time outside. Bonnie did not know what grass was. A flower had texture it wasn't flat. If you squished it you hurt it. She went to bed with a violet squeezed in her fist wanting it to last forever. She knew the noises but did not realize that they came from different birds. She knew them only as morning noises.

We didn't have to worry about losing Bonnie she was stuck to me like glue. I couldn't hold her hand or pick her up and she didn't like to me to watch her when she didn't say "Watch ME" She would even say I didn't say "watch me" Her vocabulary was growing by leaps and bounds and she wanted to experience everything in her own cautious way. She didn't like when other children interacted with me and I told her she had to share my time. So when I would tie a shoe or help a child on the slide. She would sing "I'm sharing I'm sharing I'm sharing" She would still sit back to back when I read a book to the group. I would say Bonnie don't you want to come around here so you can see the pictures and she would say I like my minds pictures better. So I would describe the pictures in the picture books and she would purr like a kitten when I read.

At the end of my first summer working at The Baby Fold I started working the night shirt during the week and day shift on weekends. I don't know when I slept I'm not sure I did. A man and a women worked in each "house" (really more of a floor or section of their buildings.

One night I heard Bonnie start into her repeated chorus of The lords been good to me. I sat in the hall and started singing it with her. It was 2 a.m. I sang with her for about 30 minutes and then she went back to sleep. She only repeated the first two lines over and over so I went to the library and looked up children songs. The song was a mealtime praise song used at camps. "OH the lord's been good to me and so I thank the Lord for giving me the things I need The sun and the rain and the apple seed.

The next night I when I heard Bonnie restless I sat outside of her room and softly say her the whole song over and over until I could hear her breathing deeply agian.

They say all good things must come to an end. And so too my relationship with my little Bonnie and learned so much and done so well that they were looking for a home for her. She hair was still wild and her dress still worn and torn. But now where before her eyes had no sparkle they now sparkled with delight. She still would perfer to eat spinach then try anything new. She still growled her disaproval very quietly and purred when she was happy ever so quietly. If she initiated the tough she would allow you to touch her but only for a moment.

And the day came, they had found a relative that would take Bonnie. We were forbidden to have any further contact with her as they wanted to give her every opportunity to build a relationship with her new family.

But this time the staff and given up trying to keep Bonnie and I apart. They could tell her that the other staff was the person she would build a relationship with but She had chosen me.

I told Bonnie that it was going to happen. I told her she would have a new place to live. Bonnie asked "New Game???" I said yes new games She asked "Dino playing??" I said no you are going to a new home and I have to stay here. Bonnie began to twist my hair (somewhere along the line she had stated tisting my hair and shirt when she was nervious as well) She started rocking and ever so quietly she said Bonnie don't like to share. She was standing and I was sitting in the middle of the grounds in the grass. It was early fall and the leaves had just begun to fall. I started crying and I said "Bonnie I know" I said "Bonnie things change" Bonnie ran around and around me. Exhausted she finially sat behind me back to back We sat for awhile saying nothing then she began to sing. "Oh the lord been good to me and so I thank the lord for giving me the things I need the sun and the rain and the apple tree. She paused and ever so quietly she added and dino and I said and Bonnie.

That night I had to say my goodbye I had to trust that Bonnie was in the hands of God. It was one of the hardest things I have ever done. We had mashed potatoes and spinach for dinner under the table eating with our fingers.

I read Bonnie's favorite book. The Cat IN The Hat She sat against my back and when it was over. she hugged my back.

I've always worn my emotions on my shirt sleeve so everyone knew I was having a difficult time. I was told I had to leave at 8 p.m. I had already said what I could say. That night I sat in the parking lot and when I heard the familiar squeeky voice at 2 a.m. I say with her adding and Bonnie my dear Bonnie.

I just finished my bio for the Karr Family Record. My aunt Nola has published several book on our family's ancestory and is now getting ready for a sequil.

Since my bio is a story in itself I thought I'd share it for what it is worth.

Dean graduated from Wapella High School in 1977. He graduated from Illinois State University at Normal and later obtained a Masters Degree in Special Education from that school. While attending ISU he was employed by the Financial Aid Office at ISU where he met Cathy. He later took a parttime job at The Baby Fold which developed into a full time position. He then transferred to the agency’s school. Dean also worked with PATH crisis center and Big Brothers. He taught one year in Kankakee, Illinois. He now teaches in Clinton, Illinois at Webster Elementary School where he has taught for over 20 years. In 1990 Dean was awarded the Teacher of the Year award by the Clinton Teacher’s Association. He received Honoral Mention at the State level. He has be recognized as a Master Teacher by Illinois State University and is a Mentor Teacher for his school as well. Dean has hosted over 20 student-teachers who have become his extended family.
Dean credits his grandfather Frank for his patience and his fathers cow for his education. When Dean was two years old, Frank would stand him on a fence post in the garden while he worked. Frank talked while he worked and Dean didn’t know how to get down, so he learned to stand and be patient. After milking a cow for 10 years, Dean swore once he left for college he would not return home to that cow. Each time he college was more than he could handle, all it took was a weekend trip home to convince him he needed to try harder. Dean’s hobbies include yard work and baking sour dough bread, both of which he learned from his Aunt Alice.
Cathy whose parents emigrated from Ireland in 1950, grew up on the south side of Chicago and later moved to the suburb of Oaklawn. She graduated from Mother McAuley High School, Oaklawn, and from Illinois State University at Normal. Cathy work as several part time jobs while her children were home. She now work for a brokerage firm in Bloomington.
Dean and Cathy divorced in 2002. Dean continues to be involved in his community and keeping up with his son’s many projects.