156 Dress code

Dress Codes

TIME magazine this past week had a tiny two-sentence factoid about a Saudi woman arrested for wearing a mini-skirt. A video of this went viral. Let’s add to this that public schools will open soon. In August, in the heat! 

What kinds of dress code issues will be making the headlines? I predict that there will national parental outrage when the parents get called at work because the daughter’s shorts are too short or that the son’s t-shirt has a graphic that might “disrupt the educational process.” These scenarios will be a continuation of the past few years.

Then, let’s look at shopping. I talked to a friend whose daughter is in middle school. Shopping has become a trial. The jeans and slacks are mainly lower than waist high; the shirts often end above the belly button. NO, NO, NO say the school dress codes. 

Her complaint was justified when I just opened this week’s New York magazine. Inside the front cover is a two-page Macy’s ad of school clothes featuring six students leaning against lockers. The first has on a floral dress WELL above the knees with cutout shoulders and a deep v-neck. Nope, this won’t work. The next two students are boys – one with jeans and denim jacket, the other with a two-piece sweat suit looking outfit. 

The next is a girl with ripped jeans. Some schools may okay this, others not. It may depend upon where the rips and tears are located. The next is another girl with denim shorts that end at the hip (yes, the hip) and a crop top with belly button showing. The final student is a boy with Bermuda length shorts and a button shirt with his sleeves rolled up. Very appropriate, very preppy. I see three boys with dress code approved clothes and two girls with NON-approved outfits and one girl whose jeans are “iffy.”

The next issue that arose last spring in any number of schools across the nation was that of sexual discrimination. Still looking at the Macy’s ad, I think school dress codes disproportionately affect girls. Far more girls are cited for dress code violations than boys. Boys wearing hats seems to slide by the administration, but hoodies apparently “indicate gang behavior.” “Still more than 90% of the code violations are girls.” (US.blastingnews/2017/05) 

Paraphrasing a conversation with one student in this article, a freshman girl complained that [you] can read the label on boys’ underwear their pants are so low, but [she] got sent home for a cut-out shoulder blouse.

I ask this question: What is the true purpose of dress codes? One administrator in the above article posited that girls’ clothing distracted boys from paying attention in class. [Oh, my, where is HR??] Dress codes appear to be sexist. 

It seems to me that the codes are demeaning boys by schools thinking a bare shoulder is more interesting than class; it certainly demeans girls who get suspended for wearing current fashions. 

Local dress codes are in line with the national policies. Basically, all say that any clothing (or lack thereof) that distracts from learning is a no-no. What are parents to do? And clothes are not cheap.

Get ready for students and their parents to continue to stand up, be counted, and ask questions. One mother, a Dr. Pearlman, wrote a letter to the school principal and invited said principal to come shopping with them to find code-adhering clothing. A few protests took place at the end of the last school year with large groups of students getting suspended. (NPR/4/6/14/Anatomy-of-a-dress-code) 

The answer to this issue MAY BE SCHOOL UNIFORMS. Yes, my friends, this writer is reversing her thoughts of five years ago. Then I would have said loudly and assertively that selecting clothing is part of growing up, of expressing individuality, and is a civil right. Well, I may have changed my mind.

The cartoons helped.

As a regular substitute teacher, I look forward to seeing what will be happening in the heat of August. Well, I look forward to it in an impish, perverse sort of way.

On a more professional and higher level thinking plane, I recommended to you one of my favorite authors. Alexander McCall Smith, past professor of medical law with twelve honorary doctorates, author of over 100 books and articles, writes two popular series: The No.1 Ladies’ Detective Agency (set in Botswana) and 44 Scotland Street (featuring recurring characters). It is in the latest Scotland Street title about the education of precocious young Bertie that I found the following passage. One of the adult characters says to her friend:

“We need bank managers to dress like bank managers….We need dentists who wear blue jackets buttoned up at the front. We need head waiters in white jackets. We need people who occupy roles and wear the clothing to prove it. It’s a form of social reassurance. It represents order, and we need order. We don’t need chaos and confusion. In short, we need civilization, and if you chip away at any of its pillars, in the name of informality…you weaken the underpinnings….” (p. 106)






So, savvy readers, we would love to know what you think! Are we preaching to the choir?

Should we continue to leave it to dress codes to monitor our children and their clothing purchases, okaying some and not others? What about the statistics by gender? What are some solutions? Certainly, school uniforms are one answer.

We hope to hear from you. 

Stay cool, Glenne   

155 Walking among the dead

Walking among the dead

You never know where a simple walk will take you. As I have added miles to my daily treks, various cemeteries have become a regular part of the weekly sojourns.

A few blocks from my house is the Sacred Heart of Jesus Catholic Church Cemetery. I never paid much attention to it until a beloved priest, who had been transferred out of the area, came back after his death to rest in the local cemetery. 

 I began to frequent his final resting place, taking flowers and cleaning off the weeds. Since our parents are buried very far away, it gave me a chance to pay my respects and think of those I could not visit regularly.

After retirement, daily walks became routine and I would circle through the cemetery especially after a dear friend died several years ago. Again, I take care of flowers and the cleanup of her grave. I have also discovered so many other dear friends, who were parishioners at our church, in their final resting place. I have found it to be some consolation as I think of the many memories of these wonderful people.

Others may find that morbid, but I grew up accompanying my parents to the cemetery to visit loved ones. The most vivid memory sticks in my mind as we would light candles on the edges of the tombs on all souls day, the first of November. My mother never missed that day that honored those who had passed on. It always took place at dusk so that the candles were visible throughout the cemetery. That may sound macabre to some people, but I was never afraid or upset to be there. It was a part of growing up with Italian parents who honored their loved ones.

My morning walking partner has joined me in this pursuit of final resting places in our community. The national cemetery is one we check on periodically. The wreaths at Christmas time were awe-inspiring, resting against the white tombstones. 
















We were disappointed when the American flags did not make the scene this year for Memorial Day, but we have hope for other holidays. It was amazing how quickly the decoration of the graves took place as well as the removing of the wreaths.

The largest cemetery in the area is Mount Hebron, and there we also visit many friends. Sadly, more and more each year have taken up residence there , but it is an amazing resting place that covers many acres of the city. 

Since cemetery land is often inside cities, it can be an ideal walking space and plentiful in most places. Usually there are walkways with no crowds, and they are open during daytime hours. Plus the reading material can be fascinating.

In 1935, the U.S. Department of Commerce estimated there were 15,000 cemeteries in the United States, but there is no official estimate of the acreage within the cemeteries. The figure of one acre per thousand population would put the cemetery land total in the U.S. at approximately 140,000 acres, according to the American Planning Association web site.

So as a walking destination and route, we find all of these cemeteries peaceful, serene, and of course, quiet. Also, the trees are quite a vision to behold as many would be considered amazing trees with trunks that cannot be circled with our arms.

Making observations as we travel through the tombstones, we often find names who are not dead yet but have places ready when they pass on. At least they know where they will come to rest, and now we are also privy to the information.

Another cemetery on the outskirts of town is one where we don’t walk since it would be far too long a trek. But I have started stopping by to see one of Winchester’s most famous residents, Patsy Cline. I pay tribute to her by doing what my parents always did – cleaning off the dead flowers and adding new ones.

Just the other day my friend said it is time to head to Sacred Heart Cemetery since we hadn’t been there for about a week. So you see our circuit is full as we visit our old friends and often find a few we didn’t know were there, while sometimes checking on new residents to the tranquil setting. 

Walking among the dead can be rather reflective and emotional in a good way as we remember the good times and think of the many special people we have known.

                            Frances

154 Collecting nemesis

My collecting nemesis

It is true--at this stage of my life I should be shedding things, not collecting things. I have purged a great deal since I retired but I still cannot pass up one thing: Reading Figures!

I could blame it on my parents. They gave me my first one, a lovely Hummel of a child reading. Does anyone still collect Hummels? They gave me several Hummels, but Little Scholar (I had to Google it) started it all.

I kept most of my readers in my office at the library while I was working so, of course, that invited gifts of more reading statues.

Several touched me very much. One was from a dear man, Ben Tennyson, now departed, who was a long-time library volunteer. He gave me a reading elf long before the elf on the shelf became popular.




Another surprising one came from the owner of the small cleaning crew who worked at the library when I first started working there. As angels go, I think it is pretty tasteful!





I have always been obsessed with Winnie the Pooh so I am proud that I have only one Winnie reader. Of course, I would probably buy a Tiger reader but he is probably bouncing around too much to sit and read! This Winnie is a bank.




The Library Shop at Handley Library carried some reading figures at one time. Here is one of the ones that I bought. The monkey is sitting on a suitcase that is a box.


By the way, when I retired, I did give some of my reading figures to the library. But I still have a lot. I will not show them all.

Becky Ebert, Handley Library archivist found these old bookends somewhere. Of course, she found the antiquities!

Jeannette Ewing, who was the Library's business manager, also made dollhouses and sold dollhouse parts. I thought the reader she made me was genius!

I cherish all those gifts and early acquisitions. The problem is that now that I go to yard sales and thrift shops and can't seem to pass up a reading figure.

When they are just a dollar, they don't seem as tacky! I do have standards; however, I would not buy a Precious Moments reader even it were a penny. By the way, I found the one below online offered for $70. To each his own!

But I could not resist these bookends that I found in a thrift store even though the poodles are not reading. They are so retro!

In conclusion, don't bother giving me any tacky reading figures. I can find plenty on my own!

Trish      

By the way, I also came up with the idea for a sculpture of a reader for the bench in the Handley Library Rotunda. Since my mother, Mary Moore, was a great reader and had recently died, I suggested to my father, Fred Moore, that he donate the statue to the library. He loved the idea and had the sculptor, Larry Nowlan, use his great, grand-daughter, Rea Ivey, as the model. A later donor liked this sculpture so much that she hired Nowlan to do the statue that is in the Mike Forman Reading Garden--a little boy reading!

The girl in the Rotunda is named Library Lil after a book of the same title by children's author Suzanne William, who is pictured here.

While we are on my mania for books and readers, I also came up with the idea for the flying readers at the Clarke County Library:

153 Man's inhumanity

“Man’s Inhumanity to Man”

Two things came as a surprise to me. First, in an auction box and contents, I found a 175-year-old annual report to the legislature of Virginia with data for the Western Lunatic Asylum, 1842, Staunton, VA.

The 61-page report is tattered, the pages brittle, but still readable. I read it. Then I had to start googling.  Could that which I read be true? Authentic? Acceptable? I was feeling something between anger and sadness. 

The second thing I thought of was the quotation “man’s inhumanity to man.” I didn’t know where it came from or who said it. Surprisingly, it is from a Robert Burns’ poem wherein he laments poverty, cruelty, politics, and class struggle. It is listed under the poetic genre of “dirges.” 

These two things seemed to have come together serendipitously. Some of our readers have expressed interest in more serious topics than devil-eyed cats and pop songs from our teen years. So, here is a serious topic that I am dumbfounded to realize lasted so long and was so engrained in our society: Lunatics and what society did to them and with them. Horrible thoughts may creep into your minds as it did in mine. Were we no worse than the Nazis who wanted to rid themselves of those found unacceptable?

I am now off my soapbox and the facts can stand for themselves.

Some history to help get perspective.

• 1773 – Williamsburg, VA – first patient admitted to the hospital for Persons of Insane & Disordered Minds and a couple of pictures from the museum that it is today.

Thanks to Patrick Henry keeping his 2nd wife, Sarah, at home in the basement with a slave when she became a danger to herself and her children, the Williamsburg institution did not flourish among the upper classes. The protocol at the institution was “bleeding, blistering, pain, shock, terror, dunking, restraints (strait jackets and dresses).” [From American History/mentalillness/18thcenturyamerica]

• 1792 – New York City builds an asylum

• 1817 – Philadelphia 

• 1824 – Kentucky

• 1868 – Virginia – Petersburg – Central State Asylum for African-Americans (no records exist)

• 1900 – Every state has at least one asylum with an estimated population of over a half million people incarcerated. 

• Staunton, VA. Summer 1928. With the heavily traveled Valley Turnpike, Staunton became a prime location for easy transportation of patients. Taking note that the Catholic Al Smith was resoundingly defeated by Herbert Hoover and the depression was imminent, fewer people could cope with personal problems at home. The handicapped were an at-home hardship. The asylum started out in “resort style” with patients planting flowers and taking walks in sight of the architecturally beautiful building. It is the new Western State Hospital.

• But before this lovely building was erected, there stands the information in the 1842 report. There were 152 residents: 75 maniacs, 25 melancholics, 6 epileptics, 3 homicidal, 6 suicidal, 13 monomaniacs/fanatics, 20 demented, 3 idiots, 1 insane. (p. 23) The cost to the State of Virginia was about $53,000 with an average patient age of 36 years. (p. 28) The medicines used were laxatives and opiates. (p. 39). Men worked on the “farm” producing hay, corn, oats, and potatoes which realized about $1000 income while women were “engaged in sewing, spinning, knitting, housework, and in other occupations suited to their sex.” (p.39) [I promised I would NOT say anything!]

• In 1924, Virginia passed the “Eugenical Sterilization Act” where patients at Western State were allowed to be forcibly sterilized. There were too many patients, too little room, only 40 slots for women, and the communities of Virginia needed protection from these undesirable people. This law was not repealed until the early 1970s.

• The women of Western State: many of the women were institutionalized due to their opinions, unruliness, and inability to be “controlled by male-dominated culture.” [History of Psychiatric Institution/18th-19thcenturies] Men – husband, father, brother – could send the women to these facilities as men had the “last say.” No doctor, no battery of tests was needed. 

• Here is a partial list of reasons for commitment:

Raises some questions, doesn’t it. Some make no sense at all.

• · By 1940, some 20,000 mentally ill had been sterilized “to prevent the procreation of criminals, idiots, imbeciles and rapists.” [MotherJones.com/mental- health/America]

• If sterilization wasn’t enough, from 1936 to 1950, over 50,000 frontal lobotomies were performed. 

• Electroshock therapy was also used and is still in limited use today.

• · 1946 – After WWII, President Harry Truman signed a Mental Health Act creating the National Institute of Mental Health. Drug therapy becomes the “new” protocol. 

Notice you can get your own sample!

• 1963 – JFK signed a Community Mental Health Act for federal funding to communities to provide their own care. Never fully funded due to Vietnam War costs.

• 1965 – Today’s issue raises it head for the first time. Medicaid! Many of the half million patients were now eligible for nursing homes when the Medicaid bill passed.

• By 1977 - 650 community health facilities were serving 1.9 million mentally ill. 

• 1955-present - Better drug treatments:

• A 2004 study suggests the 16+percent of prison inmates were diagnosed mentally ill – approximately 325,000 people. This same study shows there were only 100,000 psychiatric beds in public and private hospitals. 

• 2012 – Obama signs a bill to eliminate the word LUNATIC. 

 [I had NO idea! Glenne]                     

152 Back to tennis

Back to tennis

I have had a love affair with the game of tennis since I was a teenager. My friends and I would hang out at the local courts at the high school hoping to catch a glimpse of someone we were eyeing as a potential boyfriend. We would play a few games, flirt, play a few more, flirt--you get the picture.

We even went to great lengths to get on the courts. Once we were locked out of a court that we often frequented that was in the next community. That didn’t stop us--we climbed over the fence that had to be at least 20 to 30 feet high. Fencing had been added above the regular size door--no idea what that was about. We proceeded to play our usual games. At least an hour later, the persons who had reserved the court arrived and were rather shocked to see the lock still on the gate and us inside the court.

Of course, we never told our parents about climbing the fence and sort of trespassing. At that time, the coal companies owned many of the recreational areas and generally opened them to the public. At least we thought they did!

I eventually married one of the guys I had actually hung around with at the high school courts so we both had the common interest in tennis.

Jamey and Anne -- my athletic children

This love affair with the game continued through adulthood when I started attending clinics and playing whenever I could. The children took up the sport so it became a family activity. Both children played on the high school teams and our son went on to college tennis and became a teaching tennis pro.

Tennis pals -- Pete and James

The family also spent countless hours watching tennis either on TV or at the courts. We even took the family to Wimbledon as a graduation trip for our son. When our son-in-law joined the family, he was surprised at how many hours we spent watching tennis on TV especially when Wimbledon was broadcast when we were on a beach trip. 

Weekly matches took place with friends at local clubs and parks. I am not sure when this slowed down, but it seemed to fade slowly.

As the years went by, I never got back into the game that I loved so much. My career, family obligations, and other diversions kept me away. Reaching my seventh decade, I thought it was unlikely I ever would return to the game.

About a year ago, a friend asked if I played anymore. She had a group that needed a substitute for their team. I jumped at the chance thinking this would be a great way to get back in the game.

And boy did I ever get back! The average age of the members of the group is 85. The oldest just hit 90 this year. They play twice a week for an hour and a half and never cancel. I thought it would be an easy entry back into the game. Not!! These ladies are serious, competitive, and know the game inside and out.

It was an adjustment at first as some of them serve without tossing the ball. They don’t mess around and don’t give an inch. You play the entire time, rotating partners. They play indoors so no time is wasted switching sides. You have to be on your toes and vigilant for every shot. They have run my socks off many times!! But I love it and admire them for their tenacity and drive. Plus they are very kind and endearing.

I really look forward to the phone calls to ask me to sub. Sometimes I have to turn them down due to prior commitments or going out of town, but I always play when I am available.

I think my game has improved since getting back on the court. I have always had visions of playing better than I do, even when my son started beating me at age 10. With a lot of luck and determination (no athletics ability whatsoever), I might make a decent showing.

Hopefully I will be walking on the court at their ages if I am lucky enough to reach the 80s. All I know is if they can do it, then I should strive to do it. Thanks ladies for giving me hope!

Nearly Tennis-savvy Frances