THE BUTTERFLY LANDING

  

                         

Those colorful butterflies of happiness flit around, fluttering up, drifting down, coming close, don’t look . . . or those wings of beauty will disappear.  Then – suddenly – from an unexpected direction, one comes and Ands landsupon my shoulder. 

Writing a book is fun,    selling it is work.  I have considered many ways of getting attention for Sanctuary: make a box sign and march down Central in my undies . . . but alas, my figure would not get the right kind of attention.  Or talk my Tia into helping . . . her figure would be great but she might not want a police record. 

Never did I consider the Phoenix New Times with its controversial approach.  I haven’t seen any UFOs and I am not in the public eye.  When I received an email from a New Times reporter I was very curious.  I don’t consider it a big deal to graduate at the age of 88.  I’m glad and proud and hope my action might show others that age or disability is not a barrier. 

Shanna Hogan is author of three best-selling true-crime books, has a bunch of awards and teaches writing at ASU.  After this discovery, I was even more curious.  What could she do with someone who is not spectacular and doesn’t have a problem?

After meeting Shanna, I forgot my dismay and we talked writing and formed a bond.  I suspect Shanna would instantly be a friend with any person on her radar but not many come into my radar to exchange autographed books.  That was pure pleasure!

Here is her story about Mariam Cheshire:

         

http://www.phoenixnewtimes.com/news/88-year-old-phoenix-great-grandmother-graduates-from-college-8320943

          

88-year-old-great-grandmother-graduates

Here is a link that will bring up the story for now.  I don't know how long it will last or when I can get the expertise people to help me save it.  Another blog is almost ready to go - The party is over!  It was fun, Mariam

Read more: http://www.cbs5az.com/story/31962916/88-year-old-great-grandmother-graduates-from-phoenix-college#ixzz48nNgw9x2

88-year-old great-grandmother graduates from Phoenix College

Posted: May 12, 2016 5:44 PMUpdated: May 12, 2016 7:06 PM

By Jason Barry

CONNECT

 

(Source: KPHO/KTVK)

PHOENIX (KPHO/KTVK) -

You're never too old to follow your dreams.

That's the message from a Valley college student getting ready for graduation.

But Mariam Cheshire is not your average student.

The 88-year-old great-grandmother is about to become one of the oldest graduates in Phoenix College history.

"It really does feel wonderful," said Cheshire. "I accomplished something. I did it and it was not easy."

The retired travel agent said that she started taking college classes when she was 17, but family and work always got in the way of completing her degree.

Over the years, Cheshire watched her son, grandson, and three great-granddaughterss graduate from Phoenix College.

Now, it's her turn, and her family is not surprised.

"She's 88 years old," said great-granddaughter Tia Cheshire. "She works out at the YMCA, just got back from a cruise in Hawaii.  She has so much energy. She's living life."

Cheshire was the guest speaker Thursday at the Laura Danieli Senior Activity Center, where she hopes to inspire other seniors to follow their dreams, just like she did, taking one last class to get a college diploma.

"When people tell you not to believe in your dreams - that you can't make it - when they say why bother - then you can say why not," said Cheshire.

 One 74-year-old was inspired so much, she's already planning to go back to school.

 "I can do with my life what I enjoy, and what means something to me," said Cheshire.

The great-grandmother has already written one book called "The Alternate Safe World of Sanctuary," and is hoping to write another.  www.taswos.com

Cheshire will attend Phoenix College's graduation ceremony on Friday evening.

Copyright 2016 KPHO (KPHO Broadcasting Corporation). All rights reserved.

Read more: http://www.cbs5az.com/story/31962916/88-year-old-great-grandmother-graduates-from-phoenix-college#ixzz48nNgw9x2

Time Travel: A GRADUATION MEMORY

Time Travel: A GRADUATION MEMORY: Sometimes a never-forgotten scene is brought back by a snip of a song or an overheard conversation. For me a memory returned when I put o...

A GRADUATION MEMORY

Sometimes a never-forgotten scene is brought back by a snip of a song or an overheard conversation. For me a memory returned when I put on my blue graduation gown and cap.   

I looked in the mirror and the year shifted from 2016 to 1944, from Phoenix to Indianapolis.  

This week I will be on the way to graduate at Hoy Stadium, Phoenix College.   The scene in the mirror showed the auditorium at Shortridge High School.  The blue graduation cap was perked on a blonde 16 year old instead of the gray head of an 88 year old. 

Sixty-nine years had disappeared in a flicker of time.  Once again I floated two feet above the ground.  A sparkly engagement ring lit up my third finger, left hand.  It was huge.  When I flashed my hand around for the admirers, it could be seen across the room.  

Time kept flickering, jumping fifty years.  The rings would be handed to my grandson for his wife and the diamond had shrunk to a tiny size.   I could see only a tiny sparkle . . . and my sweetheart’s smile, his brown eyes dancing, when he asked me to wear it.

Back to the past once more.  The second World War had not yet come to its explosive ending.  Most soldiers still fought on the battlefields.  My hero arrived home early on a medical discharge and had already returned to a waiting job and pharmacy school.

At the graduation dance my handsome warrior stood out among the youngsters and the 4F’s not eligible for draft.  In this era of wartime, so many beautiful, talented young women were actively looking for boyfriends.  And yet this very eligible bachelor loved me.  He had proposed to a clumsy, gawky 16-year old who didn’t know how to cook or understand his profession or how to be a wife.  

Memories returned of walking on air, feet not touching the surface.  Does first love always give that feeling of being enclosed in a vapory cloud, nothing harmful could reach me? Or was it the wartime hysteria of living every moment today because there may not be a tomorrow?

That 1944 high school ceremony was a blur. After I was handed my certificate, I hurried to find my waiting fiancé (oh, how I loved that word). 

Duane removed my cap, giving me a kiss while doing so, and my heart could have burst.  I could still feel his hands on my shoulders as I took off my 2016 gown, his love remained strong through the years.   

 At that time I wore a white, button down the front, rayon dress.  Mom and I had searched all the stores in downtown Indianapolis to find something to fit my ten dollar budget.  We succeeded at Lerner’s.   

This dress would be worn again at our secret marriage in Martinsville on my 17^th birthday.  Although my love had asked me to marry him right after graduation, I believed that 16 was too young an age to marry and so we waited. 

The graduation dance was held at a downtown Indianapolis hotel with a name band orchestra and the wartime songs.  "I'll Get By (As Long as I Have You)" , "Bésame Mucho)" and “Always.”  Yes, I’ll be loving you Always, our song for the time we had.  

 Oh, a night that belonged to once-in-a-lifetime memory.  The evening gowns that danced around us were sophisticated and expensive.  Taps on the shoulder took my partner away from me for short periods of time.  He always returned quickly to the young looking girl dressed in her ten dollar short white dress, not at all appropriate for the fancy ball.  

I was unaware of the contrast.  Dancing with others, I made missteps, inept in following.  In my lover’s arm, I swept around the floor with grace and a smile that would not leave my face.  I wanted this time to stay with me forever.    

The music ended, the stars were put away and morning appeared.  

Graduation crowds from all around the city were descending on Ferguson’s, an all-night restaurant on Washington Street.  I could barely stay awake while we ate bacon and eggs. 

Then the hour came for me to go to work.  Vacation days didn’t exist then.    Duane drove me to the trucking office where I would be pounding the billing machine. 

 I didn’t want to leave him, like a little kid pleading, “Please take me home with you.”  But we both knew that was impossible.  He walked me up the cricketedy steps to the office, met up with a couple of the local truck drivers at my company, said “Take care of her.”

My good guys piled their jackets on a long wooden bench, covered their kid typist with a coat and I slept.  I awoke, worked hard to make up for lost time and filed away the day of my graduation. 

We did marry and produced a son before the fickle finger of fate caused us to part. Destiny brought us back together to be married on my birthday once again 38 years later.  

College courses were begun at Indiana University, Bloomington, in 1945.  Stop and start, credits were added.  The graduation of a great granddaughter was the impetus for me to finish my two year college and earn an A.A. decree. 

When I wear the blue graduation cap and gown again this week, the past will be with me, a joyful time that hurts around the edges.   

A  HAWAIIAN  ADVENTURE    

or

NEVER SAY NEVER

Many years ago, when we were in Las Vegas, my father impressed upon me the mistake of asserting “Never again, I’m through.”  I had lost the ten dollars planned for my gambling experiment when throwing the dice at the Mint quarter table. 

When my father heard my vehement statement, he handed me a five dollar bill and said play it on one roll.  Wow, I ran that gift up to twenty-five dollars in three rolls which I promptly put in my pocket and walked away. 

I could have just as easily lost his money but it became a family joke to “Never say Never.”

My sister doesn’t listen to me either if I proclaim “I’m through with travelling, I’m too old for any more trips.”  Well, the cruise to Canada had contained four days of quarantine because the doctor thought I had a rare exotic disease when it was instead my 88 year old body adjusting to a 15 hour trip to reach New York.  So much for that. 

Nancy just happened, by accident, unintentionally ran across a cruise to Hawaii, from Los Angeles, only an hour’s flight from Phoenix.  She booked the cabins and said, “Now if you don’t feel like it . . . I’ll just cancel.”

We left on the Ruby Princess on March 24^th.  Nancy and Buford were in a mini-suite next door to me.  My cabin was solo and it seemed huge without Ed, but I quickly filled the extra bed with clothes I didn’t bother hanging up, an unusual luxury. 

The first day at sea I wondered why I had left my warm sunny wonderful weather Phoenix.  We ran into a turbulent front with our ship tossing around in the waves.  Although I don’t get seasick, my old bones object to this kind of weather and complained.  I soon enjoyed another luxury, lying in bed, curtains opened to view the dark clouds, and letting my body rock with the ship.  Go with the flow, you know.

Another day or so and we sailed into sunshine.   This meant time on my much appreciated balcony absorbing sun rays until skin began turning red.  Oops, better head for other enjoyments.  

Meals take up a lot of time on a cruise ship.  A huge breakfast on the Lido deck, trying various foods that are not normally in my diet.  After several days of eating differently, it became a pleasure to return to my usual cereal.  Lunch in the same fashion and soon reverting to salads.  Then dinner time in the Boticelli dining room at 5:30 pm, my menu consisting of fish, fish and another fish.  I delighted in them all, the only loser being an Australian ocean dweller of some kind. 

Days can be busy ones.  The flyer that gives us the next day’s activities is in our mail box after we come home from an evening show.  Most nights we would have a game of Mexican train dominoes after which we would plan the next day.  We have kept track for two years and for the record, Buford has now won two more games and Nancy is one game ahead of me.  

We attended seminars on the Hawaiian islands, we went to game shows and the evening highlight would be a comedian, a magician, or a wonderful production of a Hollywood type dance and song.  We had to make it to the theatre an hour in advance since there were 3000 people for 800 seats.  We soon began to fill this time with an I-pad bowling game and we had lots of help from those seated around us. 

Oahu is our first stop.  Nancy had arranged for a car rental and Buford drove us to the Polynesian Culture Center.  We had a few stops on the way, one where Mariam could get her feet wet and pick up some lava rocks.

Although we have visited the Center on previous trips, it is always a joy to watch the exotic shows and see the activities of Islanders – Samoa, Fiji, Tonga, Aotearoa (New Zealand), Tahiti, Marquesas, more.  A wonderful memorable day.  

The next stops did not go quite as well.  We planned for Fern Grotto on Kauai.  It seemed to take a long time to get where we wanted to go.  However the boat trip up the river reaches a lovely area.  We can no longer go into the Grotto due to potential damage so we view it from afar.  I had someone special with me on this ride – Mom was with me on my first trip and returned to accompany me in memories on this one.  She once again sang along with the Hawaiian music group. 

We had been fortunate in the weather up until we reached Hilo.  This day the possibilities of rain caught up with us.  The highlight of the day was the nice meal at the Volcano House Hotel overlooking volcano steam.  Traffic and parking prohibited stopping at the Thurston Lava Tube and we wisely drove back to the ship early.

Nancy had arranged for a car for the first three stops and the plan changed on Maui. 

 We took our first tour covering Iao Valley and Maui Tropical Plantation.  On this one we sat back and enjoyed someone else doing the driving and the decisions. 

Our four days at sea on the return were a delightful repeat of the first four.  In our youthful years, the thought of being “cooped up” would have been scary.  But we had come to find that it brings a wonderful relaxing mood to be free from the clock and eat/nap/play at one’s pleasure.  My bonus was the game playing fun with Nancy and Buford.  Nancy and I had sister time and this is always one of our high priorities. 

In addition, I wandered the ship and I passed out my card to any one reading a book on Kindle or similar.  It might bring a sale or two for my book, “The Alternate Safe World of Sanctuary.”

One evening at dinner, Nancy said, “I’ve been thinking about something.”

I gave a big “oh, oh,” because that means she has a plan up her sleeve.  

Well, it seems as though Princess gives a certain discount for future cruises booked while on this cruise.  I asked Nancy, “Are you giving me something else to look forward to?”

After discussions going back and forth, pro and con, this and that, we now have a cruise booked over Christmas and New Years, covering eight islands in the Caribbean.  Nothing set in stone, you understand, but a possibility depending on health and a few other factors.   With naps and pills and Miralax, this one worked well for me.  Will an 89 year old body do as well?  Well, my special sister Nancy is once again giving me the incentive to stay well by holding an enticing carrot in front of my face.

Aloha!

Time Travel: ONEOF THESE DAYSBack in August it was a no-braine...

Time Travel: ONEOF THESE DAYS
Back in August it was a no-braine...: ONE OF THESE DAYS Back in August it was a no-brainer.  Three great-granddaughters, one grandson, one son – three generations of Cheshir...

ONE OF THESE DAYS

Back in August it was a no-brainer.  Three great-granddaughters, one grandson, one son – three generations of Cheshire’s had received the Phoenix College A.A. diploma. 

I was the only hold-out.  A lot of credits showed on my transcript, dating from 1944 and the campus of Indiana University.  They continued strong at Phoenix College.  

Those were the days I burned that candle at both ends.  Work took maybe 50 or more hours a week – writing at a time when I was selling stories to small magazines filled the evening hours – and ah yes, maybe a few fun social kind of engagements.   So, I dropped out, with intentions of “one of these days.”  

My youngest great-grandkid walked out on Hoy Field at Phoenix College for her diploma last spring.  I was astonished.  Where had those 71 years gone to?!!  I knew I had to search once more for my assortment of credits and make it  four generations from P.C.

 

First I had to find Hannelly Center where credit and counselors are kept.   Back in 1967, when I had the honor of introducing Dr. Hannelly for the dedication of the new Student Center, this building had been the bright spot of the campus.  But now other buildings had grown around it.  After some legwork I acquired an Advisor, filled out the paperwork to enroll and once more became a student.  

A Nutrition course, that would fulfill the needed Science requirement, was available.  Online!  Hooray! The bonus would be the ease of taking it. I could study when it suited me, hot coffee at hand’s reach, no bother to dress or even comb my hair.  Teacher would not be asking for answers on a chapter I hadn’t read yet.  I intended to ace this Course with ease and an A plus. 

My first clue that the Science of Nutrition might not be as painless as I pictured came with the arrival of 900 loose leaf pages. Glancing through this scientific volume brought a small chill.  There were words . . . phosphorylation . . . gluconeogenesis . . . phytochemicals . . . were these English or Greek?  Chapters looked ferocious . . . Digestion, Absorption and Elimination . . . Ugh!  

I considered backing out but my sister and son had paid for the hours ($299.00) and the book ($143.50) and I couldn’t admit I wouldn’t even try it.

My easy planning began falling by the wayside.  I could study whenever I pleased and this began to be constantly.  Push the book away . . . I couldn’t remember, I couldn’t understand.  Time to take a break.  Then the lessons pulled me back.  Try once more.    Morning hot coffee would be at my side . . . . As well as afternoon cold coffee . . . and evening hot tea. 

I missed my classroom teacher.  No longer could I stay late and ask questions.  Luckily Christine was patient and worked me through answers when I couldn’t explain the questions. 

My short term memory had abandoned me and the page I had read ten minutes ago had become a blur.  Slowly, in spite of my reluctance, I began to decipher those foreign English words.  The pink hi-liter in my hand marked out reminder words as I read.  The green A on a pink sentence substituted for my lost memory. 

It was not pretty, it was not easy. I waded through each chapter, not looking ahead.  Every day had hours of deciphering:  Find the catabolic and anabolic reactions, which require ATP, glucagon, glycerol, losing or accepting an electron.   Through sheer drudgery I acquired an acceptable grade on each lesson.  

Luckily I didn’t know what waited ahead on the midterm and final test or I would have found a way to forfeit the $450 bucks, get the beriberi fever or something.  

Then the instructor emailed the procedure.  Two tests.  45 questions with 50 minutes.     25 questions with 30 minutes.  Click the “next” button and no return.  We could take the test anytime within three days but we were locked in to just over a minute per question. 

I gave it the best possible.  For 24 hours I crammed through lessons, arranged my color charts, organized the subject with colored words circled and underlined.  All preparations made.  Papers spread around me in order and reviewed.  A cup of hot coffee on my table.

I clicked my mouse and the 50 minute test was before me.  Get the worst over first.  And I panicked.  I knocked the mouse to the floor, grabbed my coffee to keep it from spilling.  Then counted to ten and focused.  It didn’t make any difference if I failed, I would know I tried. 

Questions appeared in three categories.  If I had a recollection of the answer, I clicked and moved on.  If the words brought a total blank, I clicked a guess and went to the next one.  When it might be one of these green or red or blue circles on my study sheets, I allowed 30 seconds to find it.  Sometimes this worked. 

The 50 minutes flew by.  I arrived at the last question without realizing it.  Only 32 minutes showed on my clock.  I wanted to cry, I wanted those lost 18 minutes back. 

I didn’t take a break which turned out to be another mistake.  But I had to get it over with.  Do the 35 minute test now instead of dragging it out.   My state of concentration had exhausted me.  I knew the answers were there but they would not show up.

Yep, I flunked both of them.  My grade average showed a good possibility that I would flunk this course, my goal would be finished.  There would not be another try now, I had put too much into this one.

The lessons did not get easier, at least to my way of thinking.  We delved into the Diet Review, that little Exercise whereby we kept track of every miniscule of food we ate or drank.  A know-it-all program then spit out scary details about the good and bad in our individual nutrition.  Our assignment would be to further analyze the results and hopefully improve our diet. 

In my years of putting meals on the table my family put up with burned potatoes and store bought cookies. I considered it reasonably healthy.  However, this program did not agree.  When I tried to justify my methods on a lesson, the computer came close to putting me out of business.  

I wouldn’t accept it; I had gone too far to give up now.   I wrote a pleading letter to teacher with my reasons for the answers.  She understood and gave me points where the computer program wouldn’t.

The home stretch began.  Nutrition for pregnant women, for babies and then for senior citizens.  I had a few opinions on this old age stuff but I made my keyboard give text book answers instead of mine and I made it through.

Now came the last hurdle.  The speed tests were ahead.  Another challenge of a question per minute, click or pass, hit the answer or guess.  I set aside 24 hours to give this full attention.  When I finished it, and looked at the computer-given grades, I poured a small glass of wine cooler – a mixture of white zinfandel and orange Gatorade (durned good).  Then, with no attempt to rhyme, just tell the news, I typed the following to family. 

My wrist is taped with Ace bandage

Back is aching

Head is aching

Eyesight is a Fuzzy Blurry

Papers with red, blue and green colors

Spread in a semi-circle on chairs around me.

Teacup sits perilously on left edge of stand,

Timer sits threateningly on right edge.

And here are the results: 

Final test scores

Low C (on 45 questions in 50 minutes) 73%.  Class average 76%

Low B on (30 questions in 35 minutes), 83%.  Class average 81%

AND I DID IT

FINAL SCORE IS 87.65 %,
A HAPPY “B”

Hooray!  After 71 years I am going to graduate!