Every once in a while, I come across a story that renews my faith in miracles. The following true story is an example of how miracles just “don’t happen” but come from a higher being.
Tess was a precocious eight-year-old when she heard her Mom and Dad talking about her little brother, Andrew. All she knew was that he was very sick and they were completely out of money. They were moving to an apartment complex next month because Daddy didn’t have the money for the doctor bills and their house.
Only a very costly surgery could save him now and it was looking like there was no one to loan them the money. She heard Daddy say to her tearful Mother with whispered desperation,
“Only a miracle can save him now.”
Tess went to her bedroom and pulled a glass jelly jar from its…
In Part 9, Milly continued her visits to school. The children and Gloria were always thrilled when it was a ‘Milly day’. At last, after years of quilts that went away to places of honor, Milly made a quilt, “Our Towns” that hangs at school. Declining health continued, yet I summoned the courage to ask Milly to make another Peace Quilt. She was thrilled, and with her renewed energy and enthusiasm, we were off on another adventure.
Part 10 – The Final Curtain.
“Lets make the image with children and their family looking out a big window at their images of peace.” Milly’s idea was brilliant, and that’s exactly what we did. Honestly, that quilt with butterfly wings that moved, real chains for swings, raised and puffy hearts, and striking colors and images, was Milly’s best. It was her crowning glory.
And so, the question of where to hang the quilt lingered… until an old friend and past parent whose child was part of the first Peace Quilt said it should hang at the White House. “The world needs peace more today than ever” she said. Yes. And it needs to hang at our own White House, the State House. Of course it does! The White House may take years to approve and accept the quilt. I wasn’t sure if Milly had years. The Massachusetts State House was perfect. Milly thought so, too.
There were ladders to climb and hoops to go through just to make a contact, someone who would listen to my story, Milly’s story. And one day at school our secretary burst into my classroom to tell me the State House was on the phone and wanted to talk with me. An hour later I was emailing photos of the sketch and the quilt. It was love at first sight, and the wheels were moving. I couldn’t believe how many layers of people and agencies had to approve (and like) the quilt AND the idea of it hanging at the State House.
“Is there a spot for special artifacts?” I asked.
“Yes, but it’s out of the way. The quilt wouldn’t be visible to many people. Wait! There is a bare wall at the entrance of the building. I’ve been trying to find the right thing to hang there. Everyone who enters the State House would see this quilt. Everyone. What do you think?”
What do I think?! I think that would be awesome – and I choose that word in it’s original context. The world needs more peace, and what is better than peace through the eyes of young children – seen by all?
“I think that would be wonderful. Just perfect.”
In the meantime, we made a Peace Book. Children illustrated all their ideas that are depicted in the quilt and wrote the words. One of the best peace books, ever!
We read this book over and over. Children looked through it to find their favorite page and tell others about peace. The book cemented the quilt. A copy remains out front at school for families and children to read. And, it continues to be well loved.
“Jennie, everything is all set.” At last! “When would you like to deliver the quilt? We’d like to have a ceremony with children and families, and of course Milly. The Governor is planning to attend.”
What! The Governor of Massachusetts? Gulp!
“That is wonderful” I said, trying to keep a calm voice. “Thank you”.
We picked a date in June and notified families. Current families and past families were there at the big event, as this quilt was a few years in the making. The director and assistant director of school were there. Milly’s family was there. My husband and I drove Milly into Boston, and we were escorted into the rotunda, a beautiful room with a curved sweeping staircase and stunning architecture. History and beauty at its best.
Milly glowed. She may have been wheelchair bound, but her spirt rose up tall and proud.
The stage and seating was at the foot of the Grand Staircase. I was prepped by a staff member as to what would happen. The Governor and the Lieutenant Governor would make an entrance from the back, then I would give opening remarks and read the Peace Book, then the Governor would speak, and finally the quilt would be presented.
You can do this, Jennie.
When Governor Baker made his entrance we shook hands and chatted, and he scanned the room for Milly. When he saw her he stepped forward, then dropped to his knees and held her hands. They whispered and smiled like two long-lost friends. Everyone stood to watch; you could have heard a pin drop. Not a dry eye in the house.
This was Milly’s finest moment.
And the ceremony began. I had a microphone. That was fine until I had to hold the book while reading. The Governor hopped up, took the book out of my hands, and said, “Here. Let me hold the book while you read.” And he did. And I did.
I barely recall the words I said, yet I clearly remember the Governor’s speech and his words. “Children learn hate” he said. He talked about the importance of peace and children’s visions, much like the image of the quilt. The quilt was presented and displayed for everyone to see.
And then the Governor spontaneously asked all the children to sit with him on the steps of the Grand Staircase. What a great idea!
Milly took with her treasured memories of a lifetime, back to the nursing home, and displayed these photos for everyone to see. In typical Milly humor, she would say to all who asked her who was that man kneeling, “Oh, that’s just the Governor.” On all of my visits to see her the following year – she was now too sick and unable to come to school – there was always a new story of someone asking her about the quilt and the State House. We laughed. We always laughed. It’s what friends do.
And then her granddaughter called. The Call. Milly had a week or two to live. Hopefully. I went to see her right away, and as soon as she saw my face, she said three sentences to me, “Jennie, I’m 88 years old. I’ve lived a wonderful life. What else is there?” Yes, Milly!
I went back to school and made videos of the children singing Milly’s favorite songs. I went to the nursing home a few days later to show her, sat on a chair right beside her bed, and we played the videos over and over again on my iPad. Oh, how she loved seeing the children and hearing the songs. As we watched and listened, I rubbed her arm and we both smiled. A lot.
“Milly, remember all the adventures we’ve had together? I remember that car ride to Philadelphia. You were hilarious. We had the best time. Milly, what do you remember?”
And Milly proceeded to tell the story of the Command Coin being pressed into her hand at the Fisher House. That was her big memory over the years. We continued to reminisce. There were no tears. Milly wouldn’t have had it any other way.
The following day I called, and her granddaughter answered her phone. Milly would probably die that night. I wasn’t about to wait, I left immediately to see her. I needed, wanted to say goodbye. I was driving like a crazy person to get there. And the most remarkable thing happened. When I was about five minutes away, I was struck with an enormous wave of peace. It was the most wonderful feeling of goodness.
I was too late. Milly had died five minutes before I got there – the same time that the wave of peace struck me. She was telling me goodbye in her happy way. And so Milly, I say goodbye to you in my happy way:
In Part 8, Milly and the children were guests of honor at the one-year anniversary of the Boston Fisher House. With a full crowd in attendance, including members of the Fisher family, we presented the God Bless America quilt. And, a Command (Challenge) Coin was pressed into Milly’s hand. Shortly thereafter Milly became sick.
Part 9
The following year Milly made many trips to school, playing with children. Gloria was always thrilled to see her BFF.
Milly taught the children how to sew, using plastic needles and yarn on cardboard punched with holes. She was the queen of Go Fish and Bingo. Every Milly visit was a very good day at school. Often the children made things for Milly. We were in the middle of learning about kings and queens, and children wanted to make Milly her own crown.
Our director had always wanted a Milly quilt at school. Well, everyone did. And so, Milly and the children designed a beautiful quilt that had everything important to the children- our school, the playground, rail trail, library, Johnson’s ice cream, our school’s Peace Pole and dove, on and on.
The quilt took a good part of the school year to make. Children especially loved picking and adding buttons as windows in the houses. The following fall the quilt was ready. It is called “Our Towns.” We had a lovely celebration at school! The quilt hangs ‘front and center’ in the main hallway at school.
And that year we welcomed a new baby guinea pig, Ella the Fella. He brought so much love and kindness to the children. Things started to grow yet again when we learned a new song, “Bells of Peace.” This song became the hit of the year and continues to be a favorite to this day. Then there was “From the Seed in the Ground”, another wonderful song. That school year seemed to be filled with extra joy, giving, and caring. It felt good.
Peace was creeping in again…
Every May my husband and I take Milly to her favorite restaurant for her birthday dinner. Milly’s classroom visits had dwindled, as she was now getting dialysis three times a week, and walking was very difficult for her. Asking her to do more at school was, well, nervy at best. After a (large) glass of wine, I summoned up my courage.
“Milly, remember the Peace Quilt? Wasn’t that one of the best?”
Milly smiled. “Yes, it was.”
So, I just plunged right in and said it. “The children absolutely love peace. This past year it has been big. Really big. Milly, I want us to make another Peace Quilt. What do you think? Can we do this again?” I think I ordered another glass of wine.
Milly never hesitated. She said, “I think that would be wonderful. I’d love to!”
Here we go again!
Milly’s first visit in the fall was nothing short of wonderful. She arrived wearing a costume. And she gave the costume to Gloria. That was fun. And, ‘so Milly’!
Then we went to work! Children brainstormed their ideas. Milly had been listening carefully. The wheels were turning in her head. Suddenly, she had an epiphany! It was the best idea of all:
“These images of peace are seen through the eyes of children. Why not make the quilt showing children and their family looking outside, through a window, at all these images?”
Brillant! And, just perfect. This was our sketch:
Three children and their family looking at dancing, reading, playing, the ocean, a new baby, hearts falling from a tree, butterflies…
Milly did her magic with the children. Every little thing was a work of art. The little girl’s pony tail was 3-D, the hearts – every one – were puffy and raised, the swings were made with real, tiny chains, the butterfly wings actually flew. And at every visit the children hovered, watching in fascination, as their ideas came to life. It was a wonder!
The quilt was finished at last.
But things were far from over. I bumped into a past parent whose child had been part of the first Peace Quilt. She knew nothing of the new quilt. The conversation went something like this:
“Hi, Jennie! Have you made any more quilts with Milly? I’ll never forget going to Philadelphia with the Peace Quilt. We still talk about that. It was amazing.”
So I told her about Milly and the quilts we had made together.
“Rosanna, we have just made another Peace Quilt! It is stunning, with children and family looking out a window at Peace.”
“Another one? Wow! Jennie, I told you before that the first one needed to go to the White House. That’s really what needs to happen with the new one. The world needs peace now more than ever.”
And the lightbulb went off! Oh, did it ever! I knew where this quilt needed to be. Not the White House. Better! Stayed tuned for Part 10, the grand finalé.
Get your cup of coffee, then meet Jennie from A Teacher’s Reflections and enjoy the Interview with Jennie Fitzkee from “A Teacher’s Reflections” All about your BLOG: Tell us about you lovely BLOG. 37 more words
In Part 7, the God Bless America quilt was delivered to the Massachusetts Fisher House in Boston. The plan was to have a grand event and send-off, but the Director asked if Boston could have the quilt. Headquarters not only agreed, they approved. So, Milly and the children gave the quilt a memorable farewell, including singing our book for soldiers staying at the Fisher House.
Part 8
A month later, Beth who is the Director at the Fisher House called me.
“Jennie, the Fisher House will have its one-year anniversary in July. When that happens, members of the Fisher family come to celebrate, along with many others. It’s a big event.”
The only celebration I knew of was that Congressional Medal of Honor recipients attend the grand opening of a new Fisher House.
Beth continued…
“We would like you, Milly, and the children to be the guests of honor. The quilt will be the main event.”
Gulp! I was taken aback.
“Beth, that is wonderful, but…” I didn’t have a chance to finish the sentence.
“The invitations have just gone out. The quilt is the main feature on the invitation.”
Oh my goodness. There it was, Home Sweet Home, right on the invitation.
I couldn’t wait to tell Milly.
“Jennie, there’s one more thing. We’d like the children to sing “God Bless America” and present the quilt to the Fisher family and guests.”
Another gulp! This was big. Much bigger than I expected. It took a while to sink in. The quilt was as important to the Fisher House as it was to Milly and to me and to the children.
Milly was as surprised as I was… and just as delighted.
I notified families. Many children were able to attend. We all stood in front of the quilt, in front of a big audience. Big. I gave an impromptu speech, telling the guests about the evolution of the quilt. I told them about the children singing, and how they needed more. I told them about Milly and how she made the words come alive with the quilt.
You could have heard a pin drop. They wanted more.
I decided to recite the words to the song and point out each part on the quilt as I said the words. I was all over the place- talking, walking and pointing. It was much the same as when I read aloud chapter books. No words were necessary from the audience, their faces said it all.
Then Milly and the children sang their hearts out. Oh, how they sang! We received a huge round of applause. That broke the ice, and the thanks and handshakes and smiles exploded.
A Fisher Foundation Vice President approached Milly with a handshake, pressing something into her hand. I knew exactly what was happening- she was giving Milly a Command (Challenge) Coin! I was humbled to witness this happening. I watched the ‘secret handshake’, which appears to the naked eye to be a simple exchange of respect, yet holds the surprise of the coin for the recipient. I understood. I told Milly all about Command Coins afterwards. This would mean far more to her than I realized. Her last words to me years later were about that coin (later post).
The letters of thanks poured in. And then Milly became sick. Kidney failure.
She was still the same Milly on the inside. I asked her to do another quilt
about our school, our towns. Everyone wanted a quilt to hang at school.
The next adventure began. Stay tuned for Part 9.
What would you do if a beloved book, rich in meaning and literature, were to be banned, gone forever? Would you vow to memorize the book in order to save it? I would. When Charles French, a professor of English Literature, formed a society at Lehigh University in his English 2 class for the purpose of appreciating all books – especially those that have been banned over the years – I knew this was more than a brilliant idea. Much like the storyline in Fahrenheit 451, the members of the ULS (Underground Library Society) pick a banned book to save. The society has now grown beyond the boarders of Lehigh. I chose to champion a classic children’s book. Thank you for including me in the ULS. I am giving a shoutout to readers to become a member and tell the world about your favorite banned book, and why you would save it. Here is my story:
Thank you to Jennie Fitzkee for her guest post for the U.L.S., the Underground Library Society. She deals with a book that is easily misunderstood as being racist, and she details that the story is really about India and not African-Americans. It is important to make the distinction between perception of racism and actual racism, as Jennie does. Now for her post:
In 1899 Helen Bannerman wrote a children’s book, Little Black Sambo, after she and her husband had lived in India for thirty years. Helen was born and raised in Edinburgh, Scotland, and she fondly remembered those years in India. The classic story is about a little boy who outwits tigers in the jungle. I dearly loved this story when I was a child, particularly the tigers turning into butter when they ran in circles around the tree.
The boy’s name is Little Black Sambo, his mother is…
A beautiful sky was appearing after the storm tonight. I love thunderstorms. Watching the clouds grow and change as a storm builds is exciting. The light becomes very different. Mother Nature is getting ready to put on quite a show. And I want to see it all. It brings back the best memories…
Some years ago I was on my porch with my adult daughter watching the big thunderstorm rumble into our yard. We were both enjoying the anticipation as well as the storm itself. I asked my daughter what memories popped into her head whenever she heard a big storm. She replied, “Camp, of course! We had nothing else; no TV, no computer, just the outdoors. Thunderstorms were great!” Funny thing. This was the same experience with me as a child at camp.
We talked about exciting and adventurous experiences in our childhood, and about childhood itself. We analyzed why children feel the way they do, and what is it that ‘makes a difference’ when they grow up. One thing kept ringing loud and clear. Children who are given experiences that challenge them, who are encouraged to take a chance and ‘do it’, and who have the firm love and support of their family, seem to grow up with a good, strong sense of self. Roots and wings.
I think of the swings on the playground and ‘yelling’ commands with excitement when a child first learns to pump a swing. “Kick them out. Tuck them in. Pull. Yes, you can do it!” As children grow older, I think of opening the front door and letting my child ride his bike, alone, to the playground. Then, going to sleepover camp for a month, at age eight. My children begged to go, loved every minute of it, and I am convinced it was part of their foundation. Roots and wings.
I was the opposite of a helicopter parent. Friends were a little shocked to see my child roller-blading to school. He couldn’t quite tie the laces tight enough, so his first grade teacher helped him. They wondered if there was a ‘problem’ when my children went off to camp, and to prep school. My daughter went to Italy, alone, after college graduation. We’re talking speaking no Italian, as well.
After all of these different experiences, friends would then say, “Your children are so lucky to have these opportunities”. That was quite a change. I would smile and just say, “Roots and wings”. They had the roots, with plenty of love and support. Sometimes I felt brave and alone giving them the wings. That was the hard part. I’m so glad I did.
In my classroom, I approach each learning experience and activity, planned or unplanned, as an exciting opportunity. We are a family. We help each other, support each other, and encourage each other. We provide roots for each other with daily routine, tenderness, and a positive, fun attitude. We give each other wings when we learn how to write our name, pump a swing, stand in front of a group to talk, or try something new. Roots and wings.
Remember, it’s all the little experiences, over and over again, that we build upon. It’s not the big things that make a difference. Dancing with painted feet, coming to school at night and singing in the dark, shopping in a real Indian market, painting to classical music, setting up nap mats for other children, finding a new place on our big map with the magnifying glass, reading all the name cards without help….it is the culmination of all these activities, and many others, that make the difference in the classroom.
I hope that in years to come, you and your child sit through a thunderstorm together, walk through the woods together, or sing in the dark together, and find it is an experience that is exciting. I hope that you have helped to give your child the experiences to feel a happy and confident sense of self. Roots and wings.
In Part 6, the quilt, Milly, and the children were VIPs aboard the Intrepid Museum in NYC. What an event! The museum’s Curator called me to say the quilt was too large to hang at the museum. Their Executive Board unanimously agreed to give the quilt to the Fisher House Foundation – which was started by Zachary Fisher, who also rescued the USS Intrepid. So, we were off again…
Part 7
We arrived at the Massachusetts Fisher House with children and families in tow to deliver the quilt. It was to be a proper send-off. In turn, they would send the quilt on to the Fisher House Foundation.
Beth the Director abruptly excused herself to make a phone call. She had seen the quilt and looked rather shocked. We all looked at each other in very uncomfortable silence. It didn’t help that you could hear a pin drop in this new, way-too-quiet house.
“Jennie, I have just called the Fisher Foundation and have spoken with their Director.”
“Okay…” I had no idea where this was going. Maybe they didn’t want to mail something so large? Oh please, don’t let everything fall apart, especially not in front of Milly and the children. Boy, was I wrong!
“We want the quilt. We would be proud to hang it here. Do you know how many families with children stay at the Fisher House? Think what it would mean to them, do for them, to see this quilt every day.”
My mind was scrambling to switch gears. And, I was taken aback thinking of the families of soldiers and sailors. Who really needs to see this quilt? They do. Think Jennie, the quilt would make a difference.
“I have worked this out with the Fisher Foundation. They think it is a wonderful idea. What do you think?”
I looked at Milly. She nodded and smiled. Even her eyes smiled.
“I think that would be wonderful, Beth. Thank you. Where will you hang the quilt?”
“Come with me.”
We all trotted over to the living room, the main room in the house. Hanging in a place of prominence was a large abstract oil painting. It was black and white, a series of sharp lines that looked like something angry. Goodbye ugly painting, and hello beautiful quilt.
At last the children were able to get back to the quilt presentation.
We sang “God Bless America” for a small crowd. Then we presented Beth with a copy of our book. It would be there at the house for children and families to read (photos of the inside of the book are in Part 5):
“Jennie, we have some soldiers here in the den. Can you and the children sing “God Bless America” for them? Could you sing to them with the book?”
And so we did. With the book. That was perhaps the most moving time I have ever had singing “God Bless America.” One soldier said to me as soon as we finished, “That book needs to go to the Wounded Warrior Project. It really does. It’s wonderful.”
I had no idea what the Wounded Warrior Project was.
“They need to put that book into the hands of people. Everyone needs this.” The soldier went on and on in great excitement. It was as if the book would give people another layer of pride, something pure from young children. I understood. And, I thanked her.
“No, thank you.” she said. I was choked up. All I could do was nod my head- about a hundred times.
And so, the God Bless America quilt hangs proudly at the Massachusetts Fisher House. I’m so glad!
When we got back home, I contacted Jessica, the Curator at the Intrepid Museum, to get an appropriate contact for the Wounded Warrior Project. I envisioned they might do something like give a copy of the “God Bless America” book for a donation of a certain amount off money. Well, that story did not have a happy ending. My kind letter to the Wounded Warrior Project (he was high up the ladder) along with the book was returned with a rather curt note of “Not interested. We have no use for this.” And that was that. I still think the soldier was right, and Wounded Warrior was wrong. Sometimes life just goes like that.
School was nearly over. I got a call from Beth at the Fisher House. Apparently, when a new Fisher House is built, Congressional Medal of Honor recipients are there at the grand opening. Can you imagine? And then, on the one-year anniversary of a new Fisher House, there is another celebration. Members of the Fisher family and many other guests are there. How exciting!
I thought perhaps Beth just wanted me to know. Then, I thought perhaps I would be on the guest list, or maybe Milly would be on the guest list. Wrong on both counts. Her call was far different. I was shocked… stay tuned for Part 8.
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A Teacher's Reflections 