Herban Sprawl

After SUUSI, there are often decompression parties to help us re-enter the world after a week of living and playing in an intentional community.

I spent two days of decompression in the car with my Three Aunties, as we chattered about all that we took in and learned from the AAUW convention in St. Louis. As I continue to reflect, I have come to the conclusion that there will continue to be unease among the membership because of a lot of unfinished business.

There was not definitive closure on the issue of open membership…

We still do not know the process for one member-one vote, and yet the assembly voted for it…

So many board appointments, rather than direct elections of ALL the officers, have created a board whose plan is unknown…

Was it a satisfying experience? Not really. If anything, it was extremely disappointing for what it lacked, not to mention how expensive it was.

I got bullied into attending the banquet at the end, and only agreed to go because the idea that I needed to have the entire convention experience was probably true. The banquet’s speaker was very good, but overall, it wasn’t worth it. I know that the centerpiece of the banquet was to have been Lilly Ledbetter becoming a member of AAUW, which could not happen because the assembly decided against open membership. But beyond that, they did not recognize people they asked to attend the banquet BECAUSE THEY WERE TO BE RECOGNIZED. That was disappointing, and some people felt it was because they saw whose names were on the email lists of those opposing open membership. Retribution is ugly among women.

However, it goes beyond that. The workshops were disappointing. Our branches who have strong programs were not invited to share the secrets to their successes. Moreover, the overall theme seemed to have more to do with our legislative agenda. Two of our speakers were legislators. Both were interesting, but again, it appears that our lobbying arm is about to overtake what we are really all about, and the core of the organization is about to be subjugated to what the lobbyists will be touting.

My biggest concern is the ineptitude on the part of the soon-to-be past president at the podium, as well as the interference of the parliamentarian. The latter’s role is to offer her opinion only when asked by the presiding officer. Yet, I saw her summon the presider to tell her things, unbidden. That is a no-no among parliamentarians, and no one stood up to call her on it. I wanted to, but didn’t feel the assembly was paying enough attention for it to be something they would support if I had spoken to it.

Of concern to me is the association’s stubborn insistence that the conventions be held in conference hotels. For an organization whose centerpiece is EQUITY FOR WOMEN AND GIRLS, I find this reprehensible. The cost of the convention is highly prohibitive for many members, and while the banquet ticket price is part fundraiser, it was still far too expensive for many. If our members are unable to attend because of the expense barrier, then we are NOT breaking down any damn barriers. We are building them, and it seems to be rather purposeful and exclusionary. Of utmost concern is the hint that the leadership is seeking a really important speaker for the Washington convention in 2011. We all know who she would be, and if they plan for her to be the banquet speaker, which is not free to convention attendees, then that would be an egregious form of barrier building.

We also heard there were no specific plans for how one member-one vote will work. I was astonished that the assembly was willing to accept that without amendment. I was astonished they went for it at all. But that’s a topic for another day.

For now, I have to say that Ethel Born was right. Convention is where we go to renew our DNA. I met a lot of wonderful, thoughtful, intelligent and interesting women with whom I hope to stay in touch. I was also accosted by a woman who took exception to a previous blog post, so for the record, Ms. Sween is not a member of the board, “only” the nominating committee. I think she thought that would let her off the hook for a charge of conflict of interest, but to me, it made it even worse! And, once more, if she doesn’t like my blog, she doesn’t need to read it. No one is twisting her arm behind her back and insisting she do so.

I have one thought with which I shall close this piece…

A woman who was speaking vociferously in favor of her resolution to study the open membership issue likened us to a (and here she hissed the word) sorority. I have news for her. Our only requirement is a college degree. Sororities are far more subjective in their selection process, as many members of AAUW can attest from their college days. I was briefly associated with one of those organizations, and one of the reasons I desperately wanted out was the way they put girls under the microscope. The comparison isn’t valid. If she had wanted to pledge the alpha chapter of Kappa Kappa Gamma in 1969, the list of what attributes she needed would have been far longer than our little old degree requirement! They sure didn’t take dumpy little broads like me who asked too many questions!

I’m wondering when some of these people will learn the art of gracious losing. Probably never, but in a sense, sometimes that’s a good thing. We still need to be able to elect each member of our governing board. It’s a question of accountability, and we need that.

The YaYas are on their way home, weary, but charged up with new ideas for our branch.

More on the convention another day. For now, suffice to say, we have prevailed on the open membership issue, but the damn thing isn’t dead yet. They lost on multi ticket count, the margin was good, but they were already trying to effect a do-over, so to speak.

There were wins and losses on both sides.

For now, we are off to bed and we bid you a good night!

I admit it. I’m the neighborhood drug dealer. To cats. I have a couple of pretty hardy stands of ‘nip that gather a lot of action, much to the chagrin of my own cats, who take a dim view of the punks who swagger past their windows and ROLL in it, for crying out loud. The nerve!

My friend Mildred cackles about this kind of behavior. Their eighth cat is called Henry the 8th - when it comes to persons who care about cats, Mildred and her family are right up there. The world is full of cat lovers and we have plenty of funny stories to tell.

But back to my backyard dealership. There has been an adorable black and white kitty visiting. I’m pretty sure he’s a he, but I need Big Kitty to pick him up and make the determination. He wiggles out of my grasp. Loves to be petted and talked to, but gets nervous about more aggressive handling. Charlie, our black and white fella, seems to have reached some kind of black and white brotherhood agreement with him. ‘You patrol outside, and I’ll handle inside.’ Simon, predictably enough, hates his guts, and Barney just keeps an eye on things. Barney seems laid back, but he has his moments.  Don’t mess with the big guy.
B&W Kitty and I are gardening buddies. He hangs out and offers encouragement while I swear at the slugs and weeds. I talk to him, pet him and generally give him motherly advice about looking both ways before he crosses and such like. He’s a really nice kitty and it kills me that he is outside, with no collar and no parental supervision.

Okay, disclosure time: my cats are indoor cats. I don’t want them out and about collecting fleas, diseases and injuries, or worse. I’m not a fan of outdoor cats, and even less so when I step in their calling cards in my yard! I acknowledge that some of my best friends let their cats out, and I keep my big yap shut, but Big Kitty and I are united on this front. We don’t like outdoor cats because of what can happen to them.

A case in point occurred yesterday. B&W Kitty came for some kitty weed and to hang out, but as he scampered across the hill, he was also incurring the wrath of a mean-looking groundhog. The healthiest damn groundhog in the nation for all the echinacea he’s been chomping on in my precious prairie garden!  He’d just gamboled past the groundhog, who can move pretty fast for such a fatso, and the groundhog was giving him a murderous look. B&W Kitty was standing on one of my terraced herb beds, taunting him when I caught his eye from the window and waggled a cautionary finger at him. Then I went outside and groundhog scuttled back to the neighbor’s weedlot, where he stayed until he thought the coast was clear.

How do you explain to a young cat that youth and inexperience are no match for a mean, nasty, well-equipped groundhog? They’re like teenagers. They think they are invincible. I hate that groundhog, and now, the idea that he might hurt this adorable kitty is bothering the daylights out of me. If B&W Kitty had a collar and tag, I’d call his home and let the family know he’s in probably danger and to please try to keep him safe.

BGF has a black kitty who roams his neighborhood. He’s given up on collars. Midnight slips them faster than Houdini. it could be that B&W Kitty does, too. Nevertheless, Midnight’s neighbors all know where he calls home. I don’t have this luxury.So, I worry.

I need to attend to the little seedlings of unwanted flora that has erupted like a bad case of pimples in my prairie garden. I swear, I have had more trouble with that darn area. I’d have glorious coneflowers waving in the wind if Fatso hadn’t chomped the tops off. I’m trying to get a really thick clump going, but at this rate, I’ll be lucky if I get one stem to cut and bring inside. Meanwhile, I’m adding other native prairie plants and hoping that one of these days it will look as full and lush as the butterfly garden.

I also need to replace one of my showercaps, as I developed a huge hole in it yesterday while Stephanie was making fun of them. She even took a picture of my green Chucks covered with caps and posted it on Facebook!

The House Goddess had already taken one look at the caps and erupted until she realized, “You using them to keep you from tracking in dirt, ain’t you?” “Yes, ma’am,” I replied. “I do not want The House Goddess to take off after me with a Swiffer after she’s just cleaned up another one of my messes!” The House Goddess gave me one of those mama looks that strike terror in the hearts of bigger and stronger types than me.

And so it goes down here in the holler. Groundhogs, showercaps on my Chucks and catnip addicts. Now if I could just find the pump for my fountain…

06/18/09

The latest chapter in the Fleming SOL Scandal has opened with the errant principal hiring a Richmond attorney and her own PR spin doctors. The Times has rightfully pointed out the amount of money this is likely to drain from the public coffers - money that should be going toward the education of our young people.

The Times has also called for Ms. Willis to do the right thing - to gracefully step down. Oh my.

Let’s back up for just a moment, class, and review the facts in the case. First, we have painted ourselves into a corner by jumping onto the high stakes testing bandwagon. To be sure, in the Star City we now have a curriculum that is division-wide and have cut down on the holes created when families move around and children transfer from school to school. The children most subject to that problem are those who come to school with three strikes against them anyway: low income, low parental interest in education, low expectations. The schools have done their best to deal with numbers three and two, in that order. They have raised the expectations of not only the teachers, but also those of the community at large. The dribble down effect is that parents now are catching on to the importance of the Almighty SOLs. Not that they give a rip, but they are getting the drift that changing schools won’t make the teachers ease up on the need to show up for conferences!

High stakes testing has also created a fertile growing medium for the kind of dishonesty that has come to light. It is no secret among those in the profession that there are nearby school divisions that have been getting away with the very same indiscretions committed at Fleming. The difference is, in those systems, there is a culture of don’t ask-don’t tell. Everyone is mum and it keeps real estate agents touting the non-existent superiority of those schools and the growth of McMansions that hang off the formerly scenic hillsides like Snuffy Smith’s cabin on steroids.

In the Star City however, high stakes testing has only served to fertilize a well-established culture of administrative bullying. Belatedly, the school board got scared when there was a mass exodus of teachers from certain schools. However, the principals responsible for bullying didn’t get reassigned to the classroom. Instead, the administration has appeared to do nothing to alleviate the situation. I am careful to say appeared, because who knows what Dr. Bishop has said and done in private. Sometimes she has a righteous streak that won’t quit, and if a mass exodus is going to cost her a lot of money to replace teachers, that’s grounds for her to get her undies in a wad. I’ve been around her when she gets on one of her toots, and believe me, that lady can be downright frightful! She can also be a great champion when she sees potential.

The late Edward Spear, CEO of United States Steel, once told me employees are never promoted by the people above them, but rather by those below them. People in a position of leadership will stay there when they can work with their employees and maintain a positive workplace that becomes productive. The productivity of their underlings is what promotes them. It’s what gets the attention of the Rita Bishops. They see a good bottom line and they reward those leaders.

In the case of Fleming High, the teachers were responsible for making silk purses out of sow’s ears, and in most cases, they succeeded. But the system failed those kids when the pressure on an administrator to raise test scores collided with reality. Now mix in her propensity for bullying and you have a high-heeled Hitler fannying about, raising hell about students who are stuck.

Two things are wrong with this picture. The first is our special education system, which is deeply flawed and mired in a ditch of legal mud. The second is the culture that encourages anything so blatantly political as high stakes testing to begin with! We were so eager to “fix” the schools that we threw out the baby with the bathwater. No child left behind has become a goldmine for the educational testing industry, not to mention the “how to teach to the test” industry. Are the children any better educated? No. The same kids do well as have always done well. The others are learning to jump through increasingly more frustrating hoops, and we have the drop-out rate to prove it.

But let’s get back to this particular scandal. This woman is not going to go away gracefully and anyone who thinks she will is crazy. She has already risen through the ranks thanks to her bad behavior toward her employees. They have produced and it has made her look good. The warning signs were ignored when teachers left in large numbers. The implication was that she had gotten rid of dead weight. No, the only dead weight in that building was in her office. The teachers produced and she took the credit. When the statistics showed she had a population that would derail her career plans, she cheated. She and her ilk have been cheating all along, so why should we now be concerned? What is so different about this time?

The public doesn’t like it when the flaws are aired and everyone else can see. The city educators do a fabulous job. They can out-teach the county and Salem’s teachers with a patch over one eye, one hand tied behind their backs, and standing on only one leg. They are that good and they have to be. This one administrator has sullied their work and reduced to ashes their achievements. Worse, the kids are being short-changed every which way imaginable.

The newspaper had been blithely reporting on all the positive things at Fleming High, as though that principal had single-handedly changed it into the best school in the region. No. It has always been a great school, and it has had some really outstanding teachers working very hard with a population that does not value education like they do on the south side of town. The only thing this principal did was to draw attention to herself, and the paper and the city fathers fell for her PR job, hook, line and sinker. She doesn’t need to hire spin doctors - she’s been doing a damn good job of it all along.

I am disgusted. I worked in feeder schools in Fleming’s district for 18 years. My loyalty to those kids and those teachers is solid. I know what they have gone through and I can definitely say, this person doesn’t care about anyone but herself. It’s always been that way, and it’s just about time the paper caught on to that fact.

By allowing for that culture to exist, now the school board and the upper level administration have to tiptoe through the landmines of employment law. For all these years, the teachers and kids have been paying for that attitude by “downtown,” and now “downtown” has to reimburse them. It’s a sad, sorry state of affairs, but I knew it was coming. I’m glad the truth is out there - finally. I’m just sorry the school will now be in such turmoil when they should be so excited about their well-deserved new building. Again, it’s the ones who aren’t old enough to play the game who will be paying for it.

06/15/09
We’ve got Trouble right here in the Star City, with a capital T and that rhymes with P and stands for Principal!

With all due apologies to Meredith Wilson, but it was hard to pass that one up because it’s true! It seems someone at William Fleming High School decided to call the bluff of the biggest playground bully of them all, Principal Susan Willis, and reported a testing irregularity to the Department of Education. An investigation ensued, and sure enough, there was plenty of evidence to support the allegation.

For as long as this person has been in charge of Fleming, teachers have been going underground at the speed of light. The turnover has been tremendous, and the only thing they will say through gritted teeth was that they got sick of being threatened and bullied. Those who were too close to that golden range of the magic retirement numbers have been trying valiantly to stay the course, so they’ve had the most to lose. Needless to say, they have had some good administrators, so they knew a snow job when they saw one.

The ones to feel sorry for are the ones in the mid-range of their careers. They’ve been in the city just long enough to be too expensive for another school division to hire them, and they are far enough out the the magic numbers range to put them in the danger zone. I don’t have any statistics on which experience tiers have the largest attrition numbers, but I have my suspicions.

With the new superintendent, teachers hoped she might approach the large scale drain of talent by putting the onus on principals, which is where it belongs, but it seemed that a couple of the biggest bullies got left alone, and morale at those schools remained in the cellar. But this latest event, which involved the investigation of testing irregularities on the High Holy SOL tests, brought out Dr. Vella Wright.

When I was a school testing coordinator, I was trying to deal with a faculty that openly thumbed their noses at the standardized testing required by the city. Then assistant super of instruction, Rita Bishop, called me into her office and grumped about “that little alternative school” and pretty much gave me my marching orders to straighten them out vis a vis the tests. The SOLs were on the horizon, and life as they knew it, was about to change forever.

The testing guru was Vella Wright, and a more reasonable, ethical and fair administrator has never walked the earth, in my opinion. She laid it out for us. The security measures, in the days before it all went online, were complex. We had to count every blasted piece of paper, pencil and booklet. It called for some pretty elaborate organizational skills, and the kicker was the list of things that qualified as testing irregularities.

I had one teacher who refused to pay attention in the required testing in-service I had to give, a principal with no spine, and teachers who were argumentative and nasty to me. All the testing irregularities were in the first one’s room, and believe me, she flaunted her power. I dutifully reported what I had to report because Vella said I had to. We were lucky. The state never wandered into our building.

When a principal, who has worked in another school division doing the same job as Vella used to do, knows the regulations, that person can find all sorts of loopholes. To be truthful and fair, the Star City isn’t the only school division in this region to have employed the tactics she did. Salem is chock full of little tap dances, but their teachers keep their mouths shut. Their teachers, by and large, do not work for bullies, so they have no desire to call attention to their pecadillos. William Fleming teachers, on the other hand, have had it, and for one brave soul to have figured out what was really going on, and to have spoken up, took immense courage, or good risk assessment skills - or both! It may have taken a while to gather enough solid evidence, but clearly, someone outsmarted her and that’s when it hit the fan.

Vella Wright doesn’t want any of that kind of nonsense on her watch. She now has the power to deal with principals who don’t follow the rules, and the superintendent isn’t the kind to put up with that sort of thing, either. The school board meets today, and if Susan Willis isn’t fired, there’s going to be a huge firestorm of outrage on the part of the community. She has to go. They cannot afford to keep her in any capacity.

At issue are the other people involved in the scandal. I’m going to give them the benefit of the doubt. It could well have been one of those people who was the whistleblower. It is quite conceivable that the playground bully had threatened them sufficiently to force them to do her bidding. Most teachers are not the kind who will buck authority, and you can bet that if there was any disagreement with her, they would have been laterally transferred to the school division of Outer Slobovia. The job market for people with experience isn’t so great, and unless they were actively pursuing administrative jobs elsewhere and had a contract lined up, the odds favor them going along with her decree. It doesn’t justify the dishonesty, but it goes a long way in explaining it. Fear for one’s job will do that do a person.

What it all boils down to is that there is still a culture of bullying on the part of administrators, and the central office staff needs to clamp down on that. They are operating with a pared down staff that is still smarting over pay increases for some central office people. Cleaning house with the building administrators should be their next priority, and the teachers need to see that the superintendent is serious about retaining their services - so much so that she is willing to unload even principals whose schools are getting results on the SOLs. The exit rate at each school needs to be carefully examined. The Star City cannot afford any more Susan Willises.

It’s hot out. I put on my shower caps and came inside to hydrate. Simon yawned at me turned over and swabbed off a few scents he didn’t like before conking out again.

If someone calls you a chameleon, it’s time to examine your social skills. It no longer means you are adaptable to any situation. No indeedy. It means you go where you aren’t wanted, are difficult to convince to leave and return without an invitation.

The above should give you a hint that I have been digging up chameleon plant - again.  That miserable stuff was under the lavender, and unfortunately, I accidentally dug up a Fat Spike lavender plant. In a sense, it was probably a good thing because I needed that space for some daylilies, but I am not putting those in until I see if more chameleon pops up. I want an empty space so I can get them drunk on Round Up! The damn stuff has also infested a Munstead lavender, which doesn’t send up those graceful spikes. And, truth to tell, that one is probably about to be a past tense lavender, too. But it can’t go just yet because I have to have lavender in that bed. It’s the Detectives’ Garden, and the lavender was planted for Miss Marple, for Pete’s sake.

Anyway, I was in here, cooling off, resting my back, swilling limeade, and here came some other chameleons…Jehovah’s Witnesses. Middle school-aged Jehovah’s Witnesses, at that. I hate turning away kids. Their feelings were hurt, and it’s what happens when they get sent door to door. Somewhere down the line, even though their elders are responsible for placing those dear children in that position, I’m going to pay for hurting their feelings. I hate that.

Big Kitty is toiling away with his sanding wheel, and his occasional curses, combined with mine, are the result of appreciating the hard work in which we  are engaged in the same vicinity. Chameleon gets dug up with a fork and the Japanese weeder. Old paint gets removed with a steel bristle wheel. Either way, it’s worth a few bad words along the way. The cats are awake, unhappy about the racket, but forgiving because they know that fresh paint will make their porch much nicer, which is what they absolutely deserve just for being our cats.

But that chameleon plant….

Yesterday, my neighbor was in her lounge chair, reading, while I toiled in my yard. I was insanely jealous, because that’s what I want to be able to do - look out at a weeded and cleaned up yard that is free of the noxious weeds I have spent 20 years fighting back.

When we bought this house, there was a row of weed trees that ran up one side of the back yard. A friend and his chainsaw with me following, painting the stumps with straight Round-Up got rid of the big trees, but then I spent the next 19 years yanking out miles of orange paper mulberry roots. They are still in the yard, but they are dwindling. Just not fast enough for my taste.

On one side of our house is a lot that used to belong to the former owners of this one. They sold it in the 1960s and a two story colonial was built on it. That back yard is a semi-terraced nightmare of weed trees and vines. A veritable jungle, neighbors have complained to the city about it, and periodically the owners have made a half-hearted attempt to clean it out. There is a large tree that is listing toward our house. With all this rain, I am waiting for the thing to uproot and land on the roof.

Behind our lot is a 12′x60′ piece of real estate that belongs to the Star City. By some quirk on their books, there is the expectation that the homeowner (we) will maintain this steep weed paradise. And for many years I did. Then my knees started to object. Again, it was a matter of hiring out the chainsaw detail and dealing with the residue with Round-Up and back-breaking, knee-compromising work. I just don’t have the physical ability I did twenty years ago, so it is a terrible mess. It’s embarrassing to hear the walkers bitch about it as they go by on the street that borders the mess, but what they don’t seem to realize is exactly how steep the damn thing is, and that it doesn’t even belong to us. I’m not spending my paltry teacher half-retirement check on that. Period. End of statement. Unfortunately, that mess likes to leak over the property line, which means I have a 6′x60′ piece of real estate to which I must apply myself sometime in the near future.

Yesterday, my task was to chop down the rest of the Pokeweed Forest that had infested my prairie garden. I had another square-stemmed thing that had gotten to be taller than me, as well. I cut those down, and their roots were easy to cut out of the dirt. Poke, on the other hand, has a root system that might need a stump driller! Last year I thought I was being so smart. I cut the poke, then, using a disposable dripper, squirted straight nursery strength Round-Up into the hollow stems. I thought sure this would poison the source of the weed. No such luck. They were back with a vengeance! Of course, today, they are lying, limp as a spent unowhat, on the curb!

The prairie garden gained some new plants last year, and they are doing well. The cimifugia racemosa (Queen of the Prairie) is likewise doing well. I hope it will bloom heartily this year. The pink plumes are glorious. After hacking down some massive mulleins, the plants now can breathe. Again, those root systems came out pretty easily. Bless their hearts.

My past gardening sin has been a mixture of the fear of pruning, and a stubborn resistance to moving plants around. Somehow that seems to have left me, and I find myself looking at a dogwood and its low growing branches with a saw on the brain. I whacked down a pair of buddleias with nary a pang of guilt. When I planted them, the witch hazel tree was a skinny, gangly teenager. The dogwood was middle school sized. Now that both of those have matured, the buddleias, which are well-established and can get huge, are in the way. The peony can’t get any light or air. I may love those buddleias, but if they don’t work there, they can’t stay. I think I’m finally maturing as a gardener!

We have more scattered thunderstorms in our forecast for this week, which is good for me. I have to dig out the summer clothes from the depths of the kneewall storage, and there are other indoor projects that I can do. But for every hour I can spend digging up weeds, that’s even better. All the new plants are becoming well-established thanks to all this rain. The patio is ready for a second application of Round-Up, and that plan is progressing nicely.

Next up: a scoop of mulch on the truck vs. bags from Lowe’s. I’m thinking a scoop. Cheaper by far.  Just need to put air in the wheelbarrow’s tires!

That lounge chair and a book are getting closer…I can feel it!

This piece is dedicated to Marion Talbot and Ellen H. Richards. On November 28, 1881, they invited 15 alumnae of eight colleges to a meeting in Boston, Massachusetts. Their vision was to create an organization in which women college graduates could work together to open doors of higher education to other women and to find wider opportunities to use their training.*

It is also dedicated to Ethel Born, who has taught me the true value promise of AAUW, and you won’t find it in the official literature!

It all started out innocently enough. My niece suggested we meet up in St. Louis for the AAUW convention as a special time together. It was meant to include my niece-to-be, as well, but she wasn’t able to make it. So, my sister, her daughter, and me. I was really looking forward to it.

Sometime during the course of the early spring, I received an email from a branch member alerting us to the issue of open membership being on the agenda for convention - yet again. I gave the idea a lot of consideration, but overall, it didn’t appeal to me on a lot of levels. I’ve written in this space about that topic before, so I won’t go into my opinions today.

Later, I saw something on Facebook, and without really reading it carefully, posted something that stated my opposition. That set up what I call a firestorm of responses from the moderator of that site, who kept trying to tell me I was wrong. Details aren’t important here, but when she resorted to leaving me private messages on Facebook, I questioned it. She didn’t think I’d want it on my Wall. I had nothing to hide, I told her. Truthfully, she did, because she was doing exactly what I had accused her of doing: not listening and not allowing for a difference of opinion without chiming in with her disdainful and condescending insistence that people who disagreed were wrong. After all, our esteemed president had been in tears when she had to turn away a member who would have worked so hard for our mission. sighhhh Our president needs to put on her big girl panties and deal with it.

When I blogged about it, a member of the bylaws committee wanted to comment - three pages worth of commentary. I turned him down. First of all, I don’t know what the husband of a board member was doing on the bylaws committee to start with. That is about as blatant a case of conflict of interest as there is. You know, I didn’t need to have some man blithering away the party line on this “the-sky-is-falling-and-the-only-thing-that-will-hold-it-up-are-these-questionable-bylaws” story. I told him to boil it down to 50 words, knowing good and well he wasn’t even going to try.

My comments on the Facebook page drew the attention of some other AAUW people who had the same reaction I did and who also didn’t like the moderator’s comments. We hooked up.

Pretty soon, I realized that I wasn’t in a minority at all, and that’s when I learned the value they don’t tell you about, the value they will take away from us when they do away with conventions (if they succeed). I have met so many different women from different walks of life and different ages, stripes and colors! There is one thing that unites them, and that’s where Ethel comes into the story.

Ethel finished her college degree long after her children were out of college. For graduation, her daughter gave her a membership in AAUW. Ethel is passionate about how important it is for AAUW to stick with the statement of purpose in the original charter. When we seek to promote and facilitate higher education for women and girls, we raise their standards of living and increase their opportunities. This, my friends, is where equity comes into the equation. Equity is the positive outcome of education. Education raises the prospects of entire villages of women and girls. With education, we go far beyond the simplistic notion of “equity.” We go beyond the pay Lily Ledbetter was entitled to. With education, we prevent many forms of inequity. Equity? Too narrow a concept. Education? The world is your oyster!

I don’t need “value promises” from an organization that I belong to voluntarily. To engage in the mission, we have only to look at our charter. The mission is clear, and for 125+ years, AAUW has been working to fulfill that mission.

The problem is, this organizaton has been trying to remake itself and the new messages really don’t resonate. They are just window dressing. Redecorating. By diluting our original purpose, AAUW makes it difficult for members to recruit new members. I know this. I just recruited a thirty-something and a twenty-something, both professional women. They wanted to know what we stood for. I took them to the annual meeting -the one where we distribute our scholarships - and the purpose of AAUW became crystal clear. This, they said, was an idea they could get behind.

Ethel is the chair of the International Affairs Committee. They generally present three programs each year, and they are stellar. We learn so much about the ways in which other countries and cultures approach the issue of educating women and girls, and the extremely powerful impact that has on women’s rights and their opportunities. Sometimes I wish we could telecast her committee’s programs to other branches. (I know leadership is following this blog, so one of you needs to be taking notes.)

The point is, the organization is probably in trouble. But the truth hasn’t been disseminated in such a way as to engender trust in the leadership. In other words, they haven’t told the truth, the WHOLE truth and nuttin’ but the truth. They have repeated the party line like a mantra, but their explanations are hollow and without substance they cannot expect the membership…. educated women (with a handful of men) who read and think to buy into the sales pitch.

The bylaws they are suggesting violate Roberts’ Rules. They are indicative of an organization in its death throes, and they are risky in that they easily pave the way for another organization to take us over. The structure of the board, with too many appointments that have no accountability to the membership, is such that it engenders mistrust. Without the intermediate layer of leadership, the structure they are proposing sets up a distinct we/they situation. And those rarely have a good outcome.

Additionally, open membership means the membership roster can be packed with people from another organization that seeks to seize AAUW and its lovely endowment. One member/one vote is problematic in terms of the way it will be set up. If we don’t like these bylaws, can we trust leadership to do the right thing with that process?

Bottom line: the current leadership has violated the trust of members across the country, and they aren’t happy that all these smart people are pointing out the situation to them. The recitation of the party line isn’t giving thinking women the answers they seek. There is too much latitude and too many opportunities for malfeasance. The leadership doesn’t want to acknowledge the truth here: there is something fishy going on, and something tells me it won’t provide me with my weekly dose of essential fatty acids. Carp doesn’t do that. Only fish that swim in transparent waters can.

The thing is, this reminds me of the leap churches are asked to make when their leadership tells them they have reached the size where they need to be a program church, rather than a pastoral church. Parisioners scratch their heads and wonder, “What the heck is that, anyway?”

Our branches are being asked to support a so-called mission, to give members value for belonging (sounds like a pitch for Sam’s Club), and to support an organizational structure that defies the standards and ethics of any good organizational strategist. The branches that include a lot of older women who have contributed heavily to the Educational Foundation aren’t so sure they like this. One younger president scoffed at the importance of the $140 million endowment saying it wasn’t really that much, and that the women who’d contributed to it were dead anyway.

[Oho! Marion?! Ellen?! Nell Murphy?! Helen Sweeney?! Joan Derenge?! Gertrude Camper?! Connie Anderson?! Would your spirits like to have some fun in St. Louis?]

So much for the dead ladies, but what about the very much alive ones in my branch, your branch and everyone else’s branch who have worked their hind ends off all these years to provide opportunities for women who needed that helping boost?

You would think that a younger generation whose backs are bowed by the weight of their college loan obligations would understand the VALUE in our scholarship programs.

As to conventions, Ethel says, this is where we renew our DNA. Think about that.

I really cannot wait to meet these women I’ve been corresponding with. I cannot wait to put faces to names. I feel like I’ve known some of them all my life. This is the VALUE of conventions. We get VALUE when we come together to share what has worked, and what hasn’t worked. We come together to hammer out best practices in membership recruitment, retention and fulfillment. We come together to share fundraising ideas that move us out of sorting books. We come together for fellowship and in friendship. Take away the opportunity to network and exchange ideas and processes and what are we? AARP? AAA? Those are organizations with huge staffs, boards and faceless members. If AAUW goes to being a virtual organization like they seem to be pointing us to, that’s exactly what we will become. Now what VALUE is there in that kind of organization?

Conventions are indeed expensive when the only place you hold them are hotel conference centers in big cities. College campuses in smaller cities host conferences with aplomb. Just ask the staff at Radford University about their annual blast of fun with the 1000 or so Unitarians who invade their campus at the end of July for a week of renewal, recommittment and respite. A whole week of that, plus workshop fees, is about the same as this trip to St. Louis is going to cost a lot of the delegates.

The last thing that worries me is this. In the event the bylaws do not pass, there is no provision advertised as to who will step forward to fill offices that exist under the current bylaws that the new ones eliminated. Hmmm Who wants to be treasurer? Secretary?  Furthermore, the people being considered for appointed positions are a deep, dark secret.

And they wonder why people like me don’t trust this whole mess…………..

*Paraphrased and sorta quoted from the AAUW.org website.

Last week a doyenne of the Herb Society was laid to rest. In truth, we lost Bette Rogers quite a while before her demise, but it was to illness that devastated her body. It hurt to see her in a wheelchair, debilitated and unable to do for herself because she had always been such a vibrant and active lady.

When I first met Bette, I was new to growing herbs, and very new to doing anything much with them. Bette was enthusiastic and welcoming to all who were interested in the useful plants. When she served a term as president, she created committees and generally organized us. I followed her, but having a “thing” about committees, I kind of let them languish. Dumb move. Bette had it right.

And that was the thing about Bette - she was organized and she liked to pay attention to details. When Bette made up a basket for our annual auction, it wasn’t just a basket of herbal concoctions, it was an event! Each bottle or jar was done up with decorative tags or labels. If they were capped with a cork, that cork was likely dipped in parafin that had been mixed with cinnamon or other spices to give it a unique look and a pleasant scent. The items would be arranged in fluffy stuff so that everything could be shown to advantage, and then the crowning glory would be her bows.

The first time I ever saw wired ribbon used was on one of Bette’s gift baskets. She had that thing going all down the handle, in waves, wired to the handle and looking as fresh as the opening buds of a chive plant in May. It was fabulous! And that’s when I realized that presentation is everything, and that no detail is too small in making something look really special.

Bette was a motherly sort - having a large family will do that to a person. She had snow white hair and was as pretty as she could be. I don’t think being grubby was ever a possibility for her. She had some pretty definite ideas and she could be fairly stubborn. I don’t ever remember her being ugly or unkind. If anything, she was probably the one person who taught me about the cup being half full. I doubt she realized it, but her way of encouraging people was something we all followed without even thinking about it. To say she led by example is an understatement!

When Don Haney and Thom Hamlin opened Buffalo Springs Herb Farm, Bette was one of the most enthusiastic supporters of their effort. The Herb Society rallied around The Farm and Bette led the parade. She loved that place. We all did, but for Bette, there was some connection that drew her to it. She even arranged to have her daughter’s wedding at The Farm! With characteristic attention to detail - Martha Stewart had nothing on Bette - she worried the guys to death about every last little thing, changing her mind and improving and perfecting as she went along. Don and Thom bore it with their usual aplomb, and I don’t think that even at her most persnickety worst there were ever “words” among them. The guys just wouldn’t have done that. This was another example to live by.

I’m going to miss Bette, even though I’ve been missing her for a long time. Just seeing her at Herb Society in her wheelchair, caregiver fussing over her (and her fussing at the caregiver!), had a grounding effect. While there are others who are more prominent in their activities and enthusiasm, Bette had set the tone, and she somehow was the anchor for us all. Being frail wasn’t easy for her, but now she’s in that great heavenly herb garden and no doubt giving orders on moving some plants around to better advantage.

Rest in peace, Bette. May the herbs I plant in your honor live long, flourish, and maintain their shapes the way you would want them to!
Yep. That would be Bette!

Today is an important day. It is my niece’s birthday! As usual, I have her present in progress, so she gets it late. Generally, whatever I send is worth the wait, though!

I had begun this year with good intentions of cleaning up my act in that regard. Then I encountered an insurmountable problem. My idea for a card for my nephew-in-law hit a snag. I felt like Frank Lloyd Wright. I had a great idea, but lacked the proper technology to execute it, so I was pushing the limits of the available engineering! It still isn’t working, so I need to just enclose his present (from January, no less) in her package and move on!

That’s the thing about this artsy fartsy business that civilians do not understand. The creative process often defies all the generally accepted ideas of how things come to be. We get ideas that we then have no notion of how they will be executed! It often involves a process of trial and error.

I was watching that silly movie, Runaway Bride, and admiring the lamps and such that the main character had created because she had been an industrial design student. I became really jealous because that’s the kind of thing I would love to do, but lack the math skills to make the calculations. There is the same jealousy for architects, and that probably explains why I get so angry about bad design. I see a person with the skills and no sense of proportion or good taste. It annoys the hell out of me!

The result when creative types run into a snag, is that we tend to fall into two camps. There are those who will work nonstop - going without sleep and sustenance - until they resolve the problem. The others among us leave an idea alone, tinker with it a little, but generally let the thing sit (gathering dust!) until inspiration hits like a bolt from the sky. Obviously, I am in the latter category. It is not unusual for me to have several projects in various states of deshabile until the spirit moves me to pick one or the other up and bring it to completion. This drives other people crazy.

Annie, a friend from Tennessee, cannot understand why the novel plot she has been following isn’t finished. Geez. How do you explain that the characters quit talking to you without sounding like you are a person who hears voices and needs to be sent to the home? My family has enough really exquisite needlework items that I’ve made them to understand that I have a perfectionist streak and take my time. (I forgot how great some of those were until I saw a few I’d made for my sister on display at her house!) In that regard, they cut me some slack. But novels don’t work quite the same way as needlework, and require a different set of creative juices to be flowing.

Lately I have been pondering a lot of thorny issues in my think tank. Armed with a quart sized bottle of Italian lavender bubble bath, I can settle into the suds and work out a difficult situation for my characters. However, the think tank has been the scene of working out the solutions to other problems of late. Like how to raise $25,000 for a legal defense fund - or how to be supportive of a group of committed people who are united in their mistrust of changes to their beloved organization.

It all boils down to something I’m always harping about to my best girlfriend: “Honey, you have got to set boundaries!” I’m in the position of being the pot calling the kettle black a lot of the time, so I have set some boundaries on what I know I can and cannot accomplish with both those projects. One will end at the end of this month and the other will be ongoing. The ongoing one has had benefit of my think tank long enough and needs to run itself. I have to reclaim my bathtub for the things that fill my spirit.

And so, on this day, I am sending out our love and best wishes for many happy returns to the best niece a crazy aunt could ever hope to have. Lori, you will never know the joy you have brought me. (And in case he’s getting a little green with envy, your brother falls in the same category…but he’ll have to wait for November to hear it!) You will also never know how deeply you are loved by a guy who has generally been resistant to the power of children in a family! By golly, I think you might have even trumped the cats on that one! Hang in there…a package will follow!