This was what I woke up to this morning - a drawing of my house and me. The artist is Ivo!

Playing Offense - dedicated to my dear friend Susie Garry Weber

Years ago, when I was an English teacher, I was introduced to the phrase “bean counter.”  I had absolutely no idea what it meant.  I had gone into the principal’s office to voice a concern.  He responded with the phrase, “Well, Kim, there are a lot of bean counters in the world, and you just have to acknowledge and accept that.”  I had absolutely no idea what that meant.  I called my dad.

Back up 15 years from that moment.  It is junior high basketball.  I am tall, so it allows me a ticket to the court.  I played the center position from the first time I walked on the court until the last.  Let’s just say, at some point I realized that 5’ 9” is not an advantage of a center. In the meantime, I am burning up hormones on the court. 

So, we are at the end of the Jr. High season.  I am home, making dinner and setting the table.  Dad says, “How’s basketball Tootse.”  I offer the general middle school banality. However, at our dinner table, I  decided to poll the audience about my latest lack of denotative skills.

Me:  Do any of you know what defense or offense means?

Dad: What do you mean?

Me: Well, the coach uses those words a lot. 

Dad: Yeah?

Me: I don’t know what he means?

Dad: What do you mean, you don’t know what he means?

Me: Well, he yells, “Play defense,” and everyone else seems to know what it means, but I don’t.

My dad (and brother but that was kind of normal) just looked at me – speechless.  I knew what I suppose to do when I had the ball, and I knew what I was suppose to do when I didn’t.  Who knew it had names?  Obviously, everyone but me.

About 2 months ago, I was sitting with my father at chemo. I rarely missed a chemo appointment as it was time with dad where I got to watch him do what he did best - make others feel better.  As I perused my email on my laptop, I got white.  An ongoing issue that has been causing me undo stress had risen its ugly head again that morning. 

I never talked to dad about issues that dealt with conflict. Some of it was because as a kid, any conflict I had usually was at school.  If the conflict was with a teacher, the response from dad was, “You fix it, or I will.  You are not going to like how I fix it.”  That meant that the teacher was always right, and I needed to suck it up and make it right.  If the conflict was with another student dad would say, “First, you are not nearly as important as you think you are.  There is no way they are giving this as much thought and energy as you are.”  If he actually saw evidence of unfair treatment he would point out, “Well, if they pick on you, they are leaving someone else alone. Toughen up.”

So, here I am with mean kids again.  That is a lesson that I have learned over the years. No matter if you are 9, 19 or 49, there will always be mean kids.  I look over at dad and decide to have him read the email. I brace for the advice. 

“Quit playing defense.  Grab the ball, control the game and play smart offense” was all he said. This time I understood the terms clearly. 

You Can Take the Girls Out of South Dakota but You Can't the South Dakota Out of the Girl!

South Dakota in the House!

The Theory of Dakotativity is alive and well on the island.  When coming back to the hotel to change for my Friday swim, I heard, “Kim Bartling?”  Lou Ann (Dystra) Jensen a longtime friend – we were both in Bennewies Hall together at SDSU – was standing in the main office. Unbelieveable.  After a chorus of “holy shit” from both of us, we made plans to meet for a walk into town after my swim and run. 
Lou has two beautiful daughters that are along on the trip – Kristi and Anne.  They hav  been gracious enough to let me tag along.  I do love my quiet time, but adventures such as snorkeling are so much more fun when sharing the awe.  Oh and let’s not forget our Friday night at the Lion’s Den playing bingo with the locals – priceless!

It has been lovely meeting Lou in such a different environment.  She still directs high school one-acts and oral interp, so we see each periodically.  However, to talk as two women – two teachers from small town South Dakota on the quiet white beach of Ambergris Cay, is an intimate offering.  She is a woman to be admired, and I do.

Garielle (on right) and his Cousin Christian

Island Love

On Friday afternoon, my boyfriend and I had arranged to go swimming after school in the lagoon.  I met my boyfriend last March, and I hate to brag, but he followed me around until I gave in to his shy, but subtle ways.   Garielle is the stereotypically tropical, dark and handsome man of which dreams are made.  He is not – however – tall. He holds hope that his 8^th birthday will arrive bearing inches, but his Mayan heritage is working against him.  Garielle is the sweetest boy.  He is extremely quiet and even when he does speak, which become more each day, he struggles with articulation.  This is not uncommon as Creole barely requires their mouths to open. 

Garielle is the youngest child by quite a bit.  His 18 year sister works in a tourist shop and his 15 year old brother dropped out of school to drive a boat.  His parent own a bar on back street, and they live about it. His mother is dying of throat cancer. I was telling him about the HUGE land crab that greeted me in my house the other day and that I screamed extremely loud because I thought it was a rat. He laughed and said, “Rats won’t hurt you either miss. They are many in our house.”  If I could sweep him away I would, but his life is his.  He is a little boy with a family.

Two Tangibles Closer to Being Belizean!

I bought a bike and my own snorkeling gear.  Another favorite child’s – Junior – dad deals in bikes of all sorts: 4 to 2 wheels, motors to pedals. He constructed this bike for me at a cost of $75.  It was a bargain!  Also, when I went to pick it up, Terry and Westside invited me in for dinner – conch stew!