Blessed are young parents of one-year old toddlers with stamina which seems to endlessly replenish. And blessed are the single parents of the world, who show up to actively parent their children.

I was listening to the late Martin Luther King speak on vintage film in my history class last week.

Thursday is Thanksgiving and I know we’re all supposed to be especially grateful this time of the year. I have been unseasonably slow to get into the “Holiday Spirit” and am not sure why – perhaps, that is what bothers me most.

You know the ways you procrastinate, and you know each of your own rationales for dreading and delaying chores. Me too, these unwanted, un-adult non-actions, this wasteful side of humanness. I laid down the procrastinator’s law to myself last weekend, underscoring to self, the schedule was going to be light and easy, no excuses left.

On this Veterans Day, this former U.S. Navy veteran would like to thank all of you who make the time to serve or say, “thank you for your service,” to the men and women of the Armed Forces who have sworn an oath to defend our freedom and protect the ideals of this great nation.

I’m the individual whose 4X4 windshield finds the sole flying rock on the freeway (that was on Veterans Day). I’m also the grandma who trips over both the cat and the pumpkin on the porch and does a hard-left hip slam into the rose bush (that was last week).

The flags waving on Sunnyside streets Monday were there because of the dedicated service of our Sunnyside volunteer and paid firemen.

My students are working hard to identify and understand why particular issues are contemporary, world problems. When I wrote “Baby Boomers” and “Ageism” on the whiteboard, heads went down, a refrain of heavy, heavy sighs occupied the room, then suddenly students had the most urgent need to take care of Mother Nature’s business.

When I think of the military term, “stand down” those two contrasting words brought back an image of a time when I was having an American brand of beer and soaking up the sunshine out in the middle of the Indian Ocean on the 4.1 square acre, non-skid flight deck or floating beach as I liked to describe it, while stationed aboard the USS Constellation, CV64 “America’s Flagship.”

As a single mom of three kids for most of their growing up years, I flew so frequently by the seat of my pants, I should have carried an amateur pilot’s license.

The year was 1964, the location was Dayton, Wash., and the time was the shank of every summer early morning, but no matter, the oatmeal was hot, the brown sugar and homemade raisins abundant and the radio dial tuned to KWHIT at 7:30 a.m. - every single morning.

This week marks my one-year rite of passage here in Sunnyside. I have been deep in self-reflection as fall has arrived with a frigid vengeance. The harvesting of hops and grapes seems like it should signal summertime fun – not the beginning of winter knocking at the door.

My mind always has an information excess. If I am not devising YVC lesson plans for science, writing, history or reading, I’m thinking of my kids, grands, better half, the one or two books I read myself to sleep with, the stories waiting to be written for this wonderful paper, my fantasy golf team, my volunteer work or my class, where, as a student, I only need two courses more, then dissertation, to complete my doctorate. I’m thankfully about to close it out, after all at 63, I’m in 20th grade.

October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month and it’s a cool and important time to wear pink! This world-wide annual health campaign aids in awareness about the disease and to raise funds for research prevention, diagnosis, treatment and to one day, discover a cure.