Inaugural poet Amanda Gorman delivers a poem at Biden's inauguration

Watch the performance of her beautiful poem HERE on Youtube, it's inspirational. I include a transcription of the poem that I found on-line. 

The Hill We Climb

Mr. President, Dr. Biden, Madam Vice President, Mr. Emhoff, Americans and the world, when day comes we ask ourselves where can we find light in this never-ending shade? The loss we carry a sea we must wade. We’ve braved the belly of the beast. We’ve learned that quiet isn’t always peace. In the norms and notions of what just is isn’t always justice. And yet, the dawn is ours before we knew it. Somehow we do it. Somehow we’ve weathered and witnessed a nation that isn’t broken, but simply unfinished. We, the successors of a country and a time where a skinny black girl descended from slaves and raised by a single mother can dream of becoming president only to find herself reciting for one.

And yes, we are far from polished, far from pristine, but that doesn’t mean we are striving to form a union that is perfect. We are striving to forge our union with purpose. To compose a country committed to all cultures, colors, characters, and conditions of man. And so we lift our gazes not to what stands between us, but what stands before us. We close the divide because we know to put our future first, we must first put our differences aside. We lay down our arms so we can reach out our arms to one another. We seek harm to none and harmony for all. Let the globe, if nothing else, say this is true. That even as we grieved, we grew. That even as we hurt, we hoped. That even as we tired, we tried that we'll forever be tied together victorious. Not because we will never again know defeat, but because we will never again sow division.

Scripture tells us to envision that everyone shall sit under their own vine and fig tree and no one shall make them afraid. If we’re to live up to our own time, then victory won’t lie in the blade, but in all the bridges we’ve made. That is the promise to glade, the hill we climb if only we dare. It’s because being American is more than a pride we inherit. It’s the past we step into and how we repair it. We’ve seen a forest that would shatter our nation rather than share it. Would destroy our country if it meant delaying democracy. And this effort very nearly succeeded.

But while democracy can be periodically delayed, it can never be permanently defeated. In this truth, in this faith we trust for while we have our eyes on the future, history has its eyes on us. This is the era of just redemption. We feared it at its inception. We did not feel prepared to be the heirs of such a terrifying hour, but within it, we found the power to author a new chapter, to offer hope and laughter to ourselves so while once we asked, how could we possibly prevail over catastrophe? Now we assert, how could catastrophe possibly prevail over us?

We will not march back to what was, but move to what shall be a country that is bruised, but whole, benevolent, but bold, fierce, and free. We will not be turned around or interrupted by intimidation because we know our inaction and inertia will be the inheritance of the next generation. Our blunders become their burdens. But one thing is certain, if we merge mercy with might and might with right, then love becomes our legacy and change our children’s birthright.

So let us leave behind a country better than one we were left with. Every breath from my bronze-pounded chest we will raise this wounded world into a wondrous one. We will rise from the gold-limbed hills of the West. We will rise from the wind-swept Northeast where our forefathers first realized revolution. We will rise from the Lake Rim cities of the Midwestern states. We will rise from the sun-baked South. We will rebuild, reconcile and recover in every known nook of our nation, in every corner called our country our people diverse and beautiful will emerge battered and beautiful. When day comes, we step out of the shade aflame and unafraid. The new dawn blooms as we free it. For there is always light. If only we’re brave enough to see it. If only we’re brave enough to be it.

Hic venit in posterum...

So beginning with the Class of 2023 (and all future graduating classes), students will be recognized under the Latin System of honors and recognition. Aidric is in the class of 2024. 

As of the class of 2023 there well be no valedictorian recognized.  Instead honors under the Latin System for graduates will be:

Summa Cum Laude (With Highest Honor) = GPA of 3.9 or higher

Magna Cum Laude (With Great Honor) = GPA of 3.7 - 3.89

Cum Laude (With Honor) = GPA of 3.5 - 3.69

I wonder why they changed it. Too many smart kids? Also the GPA scales are not what I remember, but grades are now augmented or weighted by the type of class the grade is in. A, B & C grades are bumped up an extra .5 point for honors classes and an extra 1.0 point for A.P. classes.

So we have embarked on planning for the next year and the two beyond that for Aidric.  Making academic plans for Aidric’s future.

It feels like this has come up so fast. I’m not ready! But ready or not here we go.

Divide and conquer...

I got a call from the hospital billing department to tell me what my estimated share of Thursdays ‘oscopies’ will be after the insurance has paid their bit.  The girl I was speaking to said my part would be about $550 and that they require payment of at least half up front.  So I said sure, I’ll go ahead and pay half now.  

I walk over to the desk and get my wallet and pull out my debit card. I’m getting ready to give her the card number when I’m suddenly aware of her still stammering on the other end of the line. I realize that the girl is still struggling to figure out what half of $550 is. ‘Ok, good, so that’s... um... hang on... ok, you’ll pay...’ 

This goes on for a few seconds and then I decide to put her out of her misery and I say, ‘Let’s just make it an even $300 today.’ Thinking this would put an end to the struggle as it was clearly more than the requested half. She says ‘Ok, um...sure.......’ 

Then I realized that now she wasn’t sure if that was more or less than half. Oh, that new math....

Reminiscing or misremembering...

Driving with Aidric today down 4th street, and we drove past CLC.  'I went there.' he says, pointing at the building. 'No, you didn't.' I say.

'Yes, I did.' he insists.

'No, you didn't.' I assure him. 'You were six months old when we moved back from France. We were only here a month maybe to sell the house in Sycamore and get to California.' I explain.

'Yes, I remember sleeping on those little blue mats.  I even remember getting yelled at for not sleeping and making too much noise.'

'No, you slept on those little blue mats at your pre-school in California. You never went to CLC.'

'Mom, yes, I did. First of all, I didn't nap at pre-school in California. You always picked me up after lunch. And yes, I remember napping there and having a snack.'

'You did nap at the pre-school in California, though not every day. And you did not go to CLC.'

To nap on a mat would mean he wasn't there in the infant or toddler room.  There are cribs in those rooms. So he would have had to be 2 or older.  Could I have put him in for a few days when we were there on a visit in the summer? I doubt Lynne would have allowed that sort of 'drop-in' service. Now that I think about it, there haven't been blue mats to sleep on since I worked there. Cots were purchased for all the rooms back in the '90s sometime... 

I told him he came in and out with me when we got his nephews and niece from time to time. But he never went there.  He insists that he did, and he remembers it.

This is like that memory I have of standing on the corner of Main and 7th in El Centro and watching the Hotel Barbara Worth burn into the ground. 'Into' the ground because the structure eventually collapsed into its basement, where it continued to smolder for days. I remember standing water in that concrete hole for years after.  My mom insists that the hotel burned before I was born. But it's a very clear memory for me, of standing with a large crowd and watching as flames and smoke billowed out of the windows. 

Yet, I looked it up, and the hotel burned in 1962. In January of 1962. I was indeed not alive then. My parents had just been married the previous November. 

....................

On the heels of that conversation, Aidric has another pre-school related recollection.

When he was 3, he attended pre-school in California.  The pre-school was and is on the campus of the California State University at Channel Islands. The actual building is part of the infamous Camarillo State Mental Hospital (aka The Hotel California). The building is haunted, but that is just a tangent to my story.

Because of its historical use, the school's play yard had an 8 to 10 foot tall, heavy iron gate used as the main entrance.  It was set in the middle of 10-foot walls made of stuccoed concrete. You came into the giant gate and then walked through the play area to the building. The gate was wide enough for a semi to drive through comfortably. I cannot overstate how large this gate was, and it had a doorknob for access in and out. The workmanship of that gate is astounding. That gate opened and closed easily and smoothly for something so big.

Although I'm not sure why we didn't use the door as I think of it now.  There was a door in the front of the building that led into the pre-school's main office.  The gate was right off the parking lot, which was at the side of the building, so maybe that's why.  It was easier to go in the gate right where you'd parked than to have to park and walk around to the front of the building and then back.  Ok, never mind. 

Anyway..., One-day Aidric and a friend of his decided that they did not want to quit playing when recess was over. So when they were called inside, they hid in one of the many playhouses in the play yard. They figured they'd wait for everyone to go inside and then come out and keep playing.

The play yard was rather large. It had several playhouses in one corner that also housed two large hutches that held pet rabbits.  There were 3 or so climbing structures along the south edge that bordered the building and a large covered area with tables for lunch and outdoor learning activities along the north play yard wall.  It had paved roadways for trikes that circled and crisscrossed the whole yard. There was also a blacktopped area near the entrance gate for basketball, hopscotch, and a large tricycle parking lot. So yes, large area.

When the boys didn't come in, their annoyed teacher came out to look for them. She called their names, and the boys, amazingly enough, stayed quiet and in hiding. Eventually, the teacher went and got help, and the building was searched in case they'd gotten inside and gone to the bathroom or were in another room.  The playground was searched again, and the boys could not be found.  Eventually, the police were called because the staff had begun to fear that someone had come in the gate unnoticed and taken them or that the boys had gone out the gate.  The knob that opened the gate was set higher on the gate than a normal doorknob, but the boys could have reached it.

However, as the police arrived, the boys got tired of waiting for the adults to go inside so they could play. They broke cover to the astonishment of their teachers and just continued toward the building as if nothing was happening at all, completely oblivious to all the hullabaloo they'd caused. The other parent and I were not notified until we'd arrived to pick up the boys. Their reasoning was that we were due within the hour anyway, and there was no reason to scare us and have us driving pell-mell to the school.  

Shortly after that, a security lock was placed on the gate.  You then had to punch in a code to get in and out of the gate. Not terribly secure as every parent had the code, but at least no child could open the gate.

Aidric relates this reminiscence as if it was a fond and happy memory. The gravity of the situation never having made the slightest impact on him. I don't recall if I scolded him or if the teachers scolded him. We must have spoken to the boys, but clearly, that part did not make an impression at all.