A holiday to sink your teeth into

Years ago, the holidays were as tricky as trying to pet a porcupine.

Being married to someone with a large family, it was required to go spend the day and be held hostage by the same holiday rituals: the turkey fired until its meat was the same color and consistency as a cadaver, the vegetables boiled to exhausted surrender, the instant potato twins, gooey and gluey, and the conflict lurking with the same anticipation as a paper cut that eagerly waits for lemon juice.

The family motto was, “Christmas isn’t Christmas ‘till somebody’s crying.”

Like a starter’s pistol, the slamming of doors and the sound of Kleenex being ripped from its cheerful holiday box sounded the shot that the festivities could begin.

In the beginning, the annual holiday death-march included a trip to the local church to get slapped around by some holiday spirit, but the message of peace on earth, goodwill to men lent the same effectiveness as teaching a rock to drive.

Growing up, I was pretty lucky, my mother the Congregationalist and my father, the Catholic raised a daughter who could bounce back and forth between the pageantry of Roman Catholic rituals held in majestic German cathedrals and the simple home-spun friendliness of the Congregationalist’s modern message of praise and celebration.

Even at 12 years old, I knew the only reason my mother went to church was to look at Reverend Baker.

Reverend Baker was the minister at the First Congregational Church, a tall, slender man with movie-star looks. Each Sunday as the processional wound its way to the pulpit, Baker’s romantic resounding tenor sang Cecil F. Alexander’s tune, All Creatures Great and Small and my mother’s spirit was renewed. His boyish looks and sandy-colored hair was too much for my good Christian mother to withstand and he was frequently invited to our home.

My mother was a vivacious, boldly beautiful woman whose French Canadian/Scotch heritage and savagely dyed blond hair gave her confidence no ordinary woman should have. She had a flair for drama and mystery and was used to getting her way. Even at age 40 she could sell dentures to a dog and she learned how to parlay her good looks and big boobs into pretty much whatever she wanted.

Subconsciously, what she wanted was the reverend.

One afternoon, the good reverend and a chaperone dressed as a six-year-old daughter came by the house at mother's beckoning and there we all were, my precocious mother, the reverend, his daughter and me. Congregated outside on the driveway, she was as animated as ever, gesturing in a manner that brought attention to her bosom and hosting a coquette smile, she did everything but bat her eyelashes. Laughing at one of her own witticisms, she threw her head back and laughed provocatively, and at that moment, God smote her for her indecency and her dentures flew out her mouth, through the air and onto the ground. Not one to miss a beat, she bent down, picked up the errant choppers, wiped them once on her slim Capri slacks and popped them back in her mouth, expertly guiding them back to their home port. True to form, she continued on with her monologue like nothing had happened, besting the beast of embarrassment.

Now I knew better than to say anything to the queen of beauty about her dentures. However, the reverend’s daughter hadn’t been schooled in the ways of flirting women and their dental cleavage that leave-age.

“Daddy, what were those?” she innocently asked, pointing to where the errant dentures had fallen.

“Honey, some people have bad teeth and they have to have someone make them new teeth so they can eat and smile and be happy,” he offered.

“But daddy, why did they fall out?”

Mother didn’t go to church as much after that.

Nowadays the Christmas machine grinds on without mother who always worked to make the holiday special, with or without her dentures. She gave classy gifts and always remembered to take the price tag off the gift before she lovingly encased it bright colors and perfectly curled bows. The “keeper of the holiday” has passed from her to me and now my children fly the Christmas machine through all kinds of conditions including their own in-laws and a mum who almost always forgets to take the price tag off the gift.

From my time spent being roasted by the Christmas fire, I’ve learned a few things: remember the true spirit of the holiday season, comfort those who are hurting, don’t torture food and never, ever, flirt with the reverend.

This blog ran on the High Timber Times website on December 22, 2010
http://www.hightimbertimes.com/content/holiday-sink-your-teeth

School board votes to censure Boggs

Jeffco school board member Laura Boggs was censured by the board Dec. 16, the first time such an action has been taken in district history.

The censure, on a unanimous vote, came after board members characterized Boggs’ behavior as erratic, disrespectful and inconsistent. District Superintendent Cindy Stevenson accused Boggs of “attacking the school district that she was elected to protect” during a conversation between the two.

Under board rules, Boggs was not allowed to vote on the censure. The censure doesn’t limit Boggs’ participation on the board or in performing her duties as a board member. It simply stands as formal public disapproval of a board member's conduct by other members.

However, Boggs, who represents District 2 (the Jefferson County foothills), may lose her ability to participate on board committees. A motion to remove Boggs from all committees she currently serves on will be considered at the Jan. 6 meeting, which begins at 6 p.m. at the Jeffco Public Schools building, 1829 Denver West Drive.

“If we don’t do something now (about Boggs’ behavior), we’re looking at three more years of this, and I think that’s not acceptable,” board member Paula Noonan said.

Board President Dave Thomas said the relationship between Boggs and Stevenson had become acrimonious and prevented the board from moving forward during a critical period.

Boggs was elected to the board in November 2009, ousting incumbent Sue Marinelli of Evergreen with 51.4 percent of the vote. The board discussed censuring Boggs in June 2010 but did not take action at that time.

Reasons for censure

The incident that apparently prompted the censure stemmed from a recent discussion between Boggs and Stevenson.

In a letter sent to board members dated Dec. 13 and provided to the High Timber Times last week, Stevenson informed the board of comments made by Boggs during a 25-minute meeting Dec. 10.

Stevenson said in the letter that Boggs:

• Threatened to expose (Stevenson’s) “lies” and show how she had undermined board relationships.

• Planned to call Washington, D.C., to endanger the Jeffco Teacher Incentive Fund Grant, a five-year, $32.8 million grant awarded in September.

• Said she would “tear this county apart.” Stevenson said she took that comment as a threat against the school district. The letter did not provide any context for Boggs’ statement.

Boggs’ response

Boggs listened quietly during the censure discussion, then responded by saying she didn’t realize Thomas was waiting for a response from her to Stevenson’s letter to board members.

“The characterizations in the letter are grossly misstated,” Boggs said. “I don’t think getting into a ‘he said, she said’ … serves any purpose. I vehemently deny the accusations.”

Thomas said he believed Stevenson’s descriptions of Boggs’ statements were accurate.

“I was hoping to have some kind of response (from Boggs), and there was none,” Thomas said. “If you don’t dispute statements, then they stand as proven.”

Thomas said he was concerned that a board member would try to interfere with the largest grant the district ever received. He said he had many conversations with Boggs about her behavior and recently met with her regarding her communication style.

Jefferson County Education Association President Kerrie Dallman spoke at Thursday’s meeting and detailed what she called Boggs’ unethical behavior over the last year. Dallman asked the board to request Boggs’ resignation.

Other reasons for the proposed censure included what board member Robin Johnson called Boggs’ open support of Amendments 60 and 61 and Proposition 101, despite the board’s statement of non-support of the three controversial ballot measures.

However, Boggs denied supporting the ballot measures at a budget forum on Nov. 13 in Evergreen.

Noonan said Boggs had met with each board member at Boggs’ request for “guidance and context.”

“It pains me that we are at this situation … but there have been repeated issues we have discussed with her,” Noonan said.

This story ran in the High Timber Times, Columbine Courier and Canyon Courier on December 22, 2010. A few other media outlets had a story on the censure, but since no other media, besides Linda from the Golden Transcript was actually at the meeting, they missed the part about the motion to remove Boggs from her committees.

Boggs Censure

Requiem for a hamster

It’s the little things in life that are important. And for a little girl in Conifer, a small thing has left her life, and she’s pretty sad about it.

Garlands the hamster, voted Conifer’s first unofficial mayor in 2009, passed away in November. Garlands was 3 years old.

Garland’s owner and human companion, Phoebe McKeown, 8, said she misses Garlands.

“I’ve been sad for a little bit,” Phoebe said.

Phoebe said she didn’t know Garlands’ precise cause of death, but she knew he was getting old for a hamster.

Phoebe said Garlands’ funeral was a private affair, and he was buried in a box in the back yard.

“My dad got a shovel and dug a hole, and we buried him,” she said.

Phoebe quickly changed the subject and walked quietly away.

All things great and small
Phoebe isn’t alone in her grief over losing a precious pet; every day people deal with the loss of a beloved animal, a companion of the heart. Love comes in all shapes and sizes, and Phoebe has joined those of us who have loved and cherished an animal.

Both literature and life are filled with the relationship between a chosen animal and its human companion. Veterinarian and author James Herriot wrote a series of animal books, and one of his fictional characters was Walt Barnett, an unsmiling, tight-fisted merchant in the town of Darrowby. The only thing Barnett had a soft spot for was a cat named Fred. Barnett, tough as nails and as pleasant as a plug of tobacco, sobbed when his beloved pet died. Embarrassed by his show of emotion, Barnett accused Herriot of thinking him weak for crying over a cat. Herriot’s response was that he never liked the man better in his life. Something about animals brings out the humanity in us, even the Barnetts of the world.

Many people remember their lives through the progression of animals that walk on four legs across our hearts.

Sam in 1985, Bones in 1987, Boyfriend in 1995, Jack and Nina in 2003, have all left paw prints next to the footsteps of my life.

Many people have made a trip to a shelter to find a dog or cat. Some people routinely cruise the rows of pens filled with barking dogs with eager paws that reach through chain-link fences and plead for attention. Or they visit the rooms with cubicles of cats that have withdrawn into a ball or sit Sphinx-like, waiting.

I know plenty of people who rescue animals or take bags of dog and cat food, toys and brushes to shelters regularly and are on a first-name basis with the shelter’s staff. They shop the aisles at stores and imagine feeding or playing with an anonymous dog or cat they will never own. Through kibble and toys, donors express their compassion and ease the animals’ wait for whatever destiny the universe delivers.

In death, our animals become legends. We can forgive them the scratched furniture, the occasional soiled rug, the closet full of single shoes. We remember the good and learn from the bad.

As adults, we know the terrible secret, that most of those eager paws and liquid eyes will one day breathe their last, sometimes alone on the street or held by loving arms on a familiar lap, or in a quiet corner of a cage. For kids, the most poignant pet is the first one that that teaches us about death.

It takes courage to love and see a pet through from juvenile fuzzball to elder crony. Whether their life is short or long, what we owe them is the best life possible.

So, welcome to the one of the best parts of humanity, Miss Phoebe — the love we are lucky enough to have with a furry companion, our beloved animals.

This piece ran in the Opinion section of the High Timber Times, December 8, 2010.