Farm Life

Published as "The New Iowan," The Chronicle, July 17, 2010

This morning I found a hurt and hungry bird sitting under a tree. Not seeing a nest in sight, I was faced with a conundrum: help, ignore, or dispose of the little guy? As I prepared a plastic Blue Bunny container with some pine bedding, water, and bird seed, I noticed my dog sheepishly pacing about with little bird feet extending from her mouth. Nature wins again.

The mixed feelings of disappointment and relief made me realize I am not quite as country-fied as I thought. What would a native Iowan have done? Of course we had the occasional hurt animal even in urban southern California, but I did not grow up immersed in such frequent and common lessons about the cycle of life that I believe children do here.

That is not to say kids in my home county lack instruction in the life cycle. I have worked with some of the best teachers (as well as classroom parent volunteers) who strive to bring authentic learning into the classroom. Some schools have student gardens or terrariums. Many teachers bring caterpillars to the classroom and release butterflies a few weeks later. And the occasional brave sole will even incubate and hatch chicken eggs.

Here in rural Iowa, these lessons do not require such careful teacher planning or creativity. Watching the cycle of planting and harvest year after year makes things more clear than simply planting a few flower seeds in a plastic cup in time for Mothers Day. Watching livestock grow and understanding they are raised for a variety of purposes sure beats feeding a goldfish for a few weeks until it floats belly-up and Dad explains the flushing process.

There are many lessons that may be more difficult to learn here than where I was raised. How do you explain the beauty and grandeur of a mountain or the ocean to a child who has never seen either? What can the words drought or pollution mean to a child who has never lived them? The Iowan teacher who uses Skype to bring a foreign country into her classroom deserves as much applause as her Californian counterpart who finds a way to simulate the change of seasons for children growing up in a desert.

I suppose education is a life-long process that balances experience with instruction. After my experience with the little birdy this morning I channeled my efforts into reading online instruction about how to correctly prune lilac bushes. It is clear that the things I have yet to learn far outweigh what I already know.

Copyright Rachel Burns 2010

Things I love at this moment

Ah, summer. You know what I'm talking about. More daylight hours and less work (read: none) mean endless possibilities. "But don't you get bored?" Only if you're boring. Here are the things I love at this moment:

1) Let's get the shallow love out of the way first. I love window shopping. Okay, not in the literal sense because I would have to drive three hours - and there still wouldn't be an Anthropologie store in the state. So I have taken to online window shopping. In case you are unfamiliar with the term, window shopping involves browsing, looking, and falling in love with items without actually purchasing anything. I like to look at Banana Republic's site and then try to put together similar outfits from my own closet. I like to browse Anthropologie dresses and open source sewing pattern sites and remind myself that I really should improve my sewing skills someday (e.g., I want to make this). But that would involve conquering my fear of sewing clothes and I have conquered a lot of fears over the past year so I'm not ready for that one. Most recently I am in love with window shopping...wait, Firefox shopping, for blue shoes. I have loved shoes as long as I can remember, and blue has been my favorite color for that length of time. Currently on the repeated viewing list are:

Some overpriced, darling flats

Pumps to remind me of my former figure skating costumes

And, the never-functional with sweaty feet and a dirt lane blue suede shoes

2) I am having to learn a lot about yard work and gardening. Thanks to my wonderful friend the internet, it is easier to find out what kind of plants I have and how to prune them. I am also trying to grow a variety of herbs. Okay, so I'm not as passionate about gardening as about shoes but I have been spending several hours every day outside pulling weeds, transplanting plants, and pruning shrubbery. I don't think it looks like I've made two weeks worth of progress, but my perfectionist tendencies keep me from going too fast. Recently viewed sites include:

Two days worth of work

I think those holes are from slugs...and I drink a lot of coffee

Try to ignore the dreads and Crocs. I whole heartedly believe Crocs are tackier than dreads though.

3) And that last one brings me to...reading blogs. I try to follow my friends' blogs but I have gotten behind on some and need to catch up. I had to un-follow someone (don't worry, not a friend) this morning. I thought I would have a lot in common with a blogger who moved from North Carolina to Iowa but as it turns out I most certainly did not. I felt a little bad un-following someone who only had 10 followers, but since I only have 6 (and I think I am 2 of them) I didn't worry about it too much. I mean, her link was published in a Des Moines Register column and she still only had 10 followers. So maybe I wasn't alone in my boredom. Here are some that I do like:

Steph

Misha

Creativity

Well, those are my passions at the moment. This was a nice little break. Back to pulling weeds and moving rocks.


Copyright Rachel Burns 2010

Inside My Brain: Summer Edition

Part 1: Nerdy projects

Summer organizing has reached a hiccup: the massive, deep, miscellaneous kitchen utensil and gadget drawer. Oh, how I loathe the word miscellaneous and try to never use it. I remember being about 4 or 5 years-old in my grandparents' RV, where there was a wooden magazine-type sorter affixed to the wall. I was learning to read and I understood "mail" and "magazines," but was is this "misc?" What is the meaning of "misc?" I can't even remember Grammy's response because it had to be vague. I know it started with, "Ohhhhhh," as in, "Ohhhhhh, you know..." But I didn't know. I think I found that a category for things that couldn't be categorized was offensive even at that age. Time travel into the future when I moved in with Josh and first learned of "junk drawers." Growing up, my mom never had a junk drawer and therefore this was not a way of life for me. My dad had the bottom drawer in the kitchen shoved with things like batteries and flashlights, but it was more utility than junk. Josh still maintains at least one junk drawer, but now that I think of it, why is the primary junk drawer in my office/library/craft room? Probably because he doesn't have an office/library/craft room. But as usual, I digress. This drawer is seriously huge and full and I haven't thought of a system. "Cooking" utensils are neatly laid out in a shallow drawer next to the stove. But THIS? Good thing I woke up early today - 7:19 I might add. So far all I've got is 3 containers lined up in the drawer for "preparing," "serving," and "not preparing or serving." That last one clearly borders on that dirty word miscellaneous, so I remain unsatisfied and summer organizing is at a standstill. It's times like this that motivate me to go outside and pull hundreds of weeds.


Part 2: My work year

Aaaaaand in reviewing my new contract to sign, I noticed our board president's signature stamp (Side note: why do I continuously work amongst administrators and board members who appear to measure importance via signature size? I mean, the way a form should work is each line is filled with one thing. So if your signature stamp overlaps onto MY line, well, why don't you make YOUR line space bigger? Okay, okay, I'm aware that my weird obsessions are no longer a secret. Such is Blog Life.). This made me realize that I didn't think about purchasing a signature stamp ONCE throughout the whole school year! Over the last three years this had been an odd fantasy of mine that I never fulfilled. In California my signature devolved over time. Before I was married, I had a beautiful cursive "RachelCollins" in which the "l" in Rachel also served as the "C" in Collins, connecting my name into a single, legible stroke. And my initials were beautiful at that time - a neatly formed cursive "R" encircled by the "C." Lovely. Then came Rachel Burns and the "l" and "B" didn't connect as well. After signing my attendance at meeting after meeting after MEETING, I became RBurns. From there the last few letters became sort of worthless, and now I'm down to RB with some up and down strokes following. It's to the point where bank employees remind me, "You need to sign first AND last name" to which I smile and respond, "Yep, it's all there!" (Side note 2: if the bank employees had been raised with 4 names and had to sign Rachel Noel Hartig Collins about 700 times on mortgages or vehicle loans, they might abbreviate too). So why didn't I think about purchasing a signature stamp once this entire work year? For one, we don't even SIGN attendance at IEPs - our names are just inputted on the front page. Okay, occasionally someone will have us sign a separate attendance page at a reevaluation, but even then I don't think it becomes part of the IEP, I don't know where it goes, and I have never been told to use one. And my blog is not an appropriate means to do so in case you are thinking about it. It is also this unattractive, overly photocopied form whose use violates my strict "if-it's-not-in-an-electronic-format-I'm-not-using-the-form" rule. Let's not forget that I seriously love forms, but I also relish in my new found paperwork freedom that is Iowa public school life. And there is no "print your name" line on this form, only signature and title - sorry folks, as previously noted my signature is illegible so good luck tracking me down later! Two, no one can believe that I used to attend 135 IEPs a year and up. Seriously, I'm sure I attended under 40 this year and it feels like fewer. When I think of the parent no-shows, glorious exits over the phone without a meeting, and times I couldn't attend so someone else had to present for me...maybe I went to 3-4 a month? Not that it averaged out, because almost all of them were in May! But I have done 3 or more in a single day in CA! I think my record was 11 in a week. People, that's not just attendance - we're talking writing and preparing, too, as well as having to select outfits and often forgo the coveted Casual Friday Jeans in order to don a more professional look. The resource teacher at my favorite school calls me a "genius" at IEPS - ha - I tell her that once she's written about a thousand she'll be a genius, too. Of course the IEP in itself is an ever-changing form guided by ever-reinterpreted laws and I am ever-striving to improve my goal writing. But not during the summer. Time to head back to the kitchen drawer battle.

Copyright Rachel Burns 2010

Relay

Published as "The New Iowan" in The Chronicle on June 10, 2010. Dates and descriptions are a function of my childhood memory and therefore subject to inaccuracies.

I have not written much over the past few weeks. Being dubbed “The New Iowan” presents a challenge when I am feeling comfortable and assimilated most of the time. How long can I call myself “New?” Each time I consider bringing the column to a close, I meet someone who mentions how much he or she enjoys reading my little adventures and perspectives. Unless everyone is being what I refer to as “Iowa Nice” about my writing, I should keep at it until folks stop mentioning it.

But be forewarned: being less-new in a small town has increased my level of comfort to a point where I feel almost part of the family. And what does a family do? Care for and nag each other. So stick around for some well-intended nagging, but first here is my personal story.

Last Saturday I participated in the Relay for Life for Sac County with The Chronicle Copy Cats team. Thanks to the generosity of family and friends, I was able to raise $230 for the American Cancer Society. As Relay participants and survivors shared their personal experiences with cancer, I reflected on my own.

After the time of my birth and before my nineteenth birthday I lost all four of my grandparents to cancer, beginning with a grandfather I don’t remember who suffered from leukemia. The more difficult losses for me came first when I was 8 years old and my Pa lost a very ugly battle with a rare form of cancer of the blood before his 65th birthday. Five years later I held my Grammy’s hand as she slipped away after a frightening cognitive decline caused by brain cancer. This was also right around her 65th birthday, just like her husband. Later, my paternal grandmother survived a double mastectomy only to die from breast cancer when I was away in my first year of college. A paragraph cannot summarize their countless treatments and numerous side effects.

For Christmas in 2002 my father received prostate cancer. After his surgery I remember his unusual sense of humor as he sang, “I’ll be catheterized for Christmas.” Due to early detection, continued diligence, and a fighting spirit, he has remained cancer-free for over seven years. More recently, my mother and I have both had forms of skin cancer surgically removed from our faces. Last Monday morning, I began my week nervously with a follow-up visit to the dermatologist and left his office without getting any stitches for the first time.

Though I feel a secret pang of jealousy whenever adults talk about their living grandparents, I realize my experiences with cancer have been minimal and superficial compared to the heartache and battles some of you may be facing in your own families. So as promised, here is some authentic nagging that I hope you will take to heart: Put on the sunscreen and hat. Put down the cigarette. Schedule that overdue pap test, colonoscopy, or mammogram. None of that is fun, but it all beats the devastating family stories shared at the Relay for Life last weekend.

Copyright Rachel Burns 2010

McPeepers

On April 26th, the babies arrived – three dozen of them! The baby chicks were each a fluffy little ball of uncertainty as we embarked on our first animal raising experience. Now, just a couple of weeks later, I think the babies have entered their teenage years. I find myself yelling, “Chicken, get down!” when their newly-feathered wings transport them atop their water container. While wondering why I am attempting to discipline fowl, I also ask myself how thirty-six chickens came into my possession in the first place.

A year ago my husband and I decided we wanted to live on acreage in Iowa. I’m sure at that point my husband began dreaming up all sorts of things we could do on acreage. My mind doesn’t work that way – I focus on details and often miss the forest for the trees – so the comments about acquiring miniature donkeys, fainting goats, or dairy cows amused and stressed me at the same time. Leave it to my sister-in-law to get the livestock ball rolling.

Days before a December blizzard, my husband’s sister sent him an unusual but comical Christmas present: a gift certificate to the Murray McMurray hatchery. Everyone had a good laugh about this; the New Iowans would be raising mail order chickens in the far-away spring. My husband starting researching chickens and frequently perusing the catalog to narrow down his selection by certain criteria. In the end, it was me who got to make the final decision about breed from a choice of four. Knowing nothing other than what was provided in the catalog description and showy picture, I opted for the barred rocks. Little did I know how inexpensive baby chicks were and therefore how many that gift certificate would purchase!

When the snow finally began to melt away, reality struck me: we would be raising chickens with zero experience! My husband began work on renovating the chicken barn, which had been empty for some years but remained outfitted with hog confinements. I started asking for advice from anyone who would listen. There were three responses I received repeatedly: “put electrolytes in the water”; “you’re going to love them”; or “do you have any idea how much work that is?” Luckily some really nice friends gave us most of the supplies and pointers we needed to welcome our McPeepers home!

I don’t know what will happen next, but at least I’ve answered the question of how I ended up with a mudroom full of chirping poultry. I guess I had better start reading about collecting, cleaning, and storing eggs. Wish me luck or call me with advice, as I will surely need both. Either way, I’m not likely to forget this experience any time soon!


Copyright Rachel Burns 2010

Corn Belt Vocab List, part 2

This week I was told, "You have assimilated really well!" That wasn't necessarily my goal, but it did make me feel good. Then again, I was told this while wearing a dress with pointy-toed, skinny-heeled, black boots - so it must have been a reference to my lifestyle, personality, or ability to not die during the worst winter in forty years. I'm still trying to rock that OC appearance a couple days a week; that is, the South Coast Plaza version, NOT the flip flops and Abercrombie version. But I digress. Here it is, the latest list of terms that I'm probably using wrong several times a week!

1) Budge (verb): to move forward in a line in front of others without permission. CA synonym: cut. The childhood chant of, "No cuts, no buts, no coconuts!" that I thought was universal is not heard here. Instead I hear this in the schools all day, especially when passing the drinking fountain: "SHE BUDGED! NO BUDGING!"

2) Call park one (noun): a phone call that is on hold on a given numbered line. CA synonym: call holding on line one. The first several times I heard this over the school P.A. system I had absolutely no idea what was going on. "Mrs. Burns, call park one; Mrs. Burns, call park one."

3) Out of power (verb): a lack of electricity. CA near synonyms: power out, having a power outage, blackout, rolling blackout, scheduled blackout, brownout, rolling brownout, SoCal Edison is at it again. During the ice storms here I constantly heard, "We're out of power." What, did it run out? Did you use up the entire supply? Sounds like a pitcher of Koolaid or something! I'm lucky the power co-op understood me when I called and phrased it as, "My power is out." Sheesh. Sometimes I have to talk like Yoda to be understood on this new planet.

4) C-store, Casey's (noun): a place of business often adjacent to a gas station that sells snack foods and other small items. CA near synonyms: mini-mart, convenience store, 7-11, quick stop. "Do you want to walk over to the c-store for some ninety cent cappuccino?"

Oh, and at the c-store you might be able to buy a...

5) Hoagie (noun): delicious sandwich on a long roll. CA synonyms: submarine sandwich, sub. Yes, I already knew what this meant but I have never felt the need to say it aloud other than when singing that Adam Sandler song to myself ("Hoagies and grinders, hoagies and grinders, meatball sandwich!). "We are going to make 10,000 hoagies as a school fundraiser." That one was for you, KFin!

6) Sticks (noun): parts of a tree that have fallen to the ground. CA synonyms: branches, limbs, twigs. "I spent all day Sunday picking up sticks!" Going out to Tracy!

7) To drive truck (verb): practicing the profession of piloting a semi-truck or other large truck from one point to another with various types of loads. CA synonyms: to drive a truck, to be a truck driver. "My husband drives truck for a living so he's not home a lot."

8) Knifin' (verb): I have no idea what this means. I guess I'll have to ask someone tomorrow. It's the newest farming term I've heard in relation to the spring planting season. Maybe it has something to do with cutting into the earth, but for what purpose I do not know! Sorry folks, I'm new!

And then of course there is...

9) Walking beans (verb): All I have determined about this term is that everyone used to do it a lot, it is not done anymore, it is farming-related, it probably is a reference to soy beans, and it involves a lot of getting sunburned.

10) Neighbor (noun): a person who lives within an approximate three to four mile radius of another person, especially in the countryside. CA synonym: total stranger. Just kidding, we had neighbors in CA but that was generally a reference to someone who lived directly next door to another person, and many times even shared a wall. In CA I would use neighbor to reference someone who lived within the same condo complex as me or someone who lived within about 100 feet of me. "Do you live down by the bend? I'm your neighbor."

Well folks, that's all I have for now. I'll keep my ear tuned for a thousand other tiny things that I've never heard but have to start learning.


Copyright Rachel Burns 2010

Hats Good, Cancer Bad

Also published as, "The New Iowan," The Chronicle, March 4, 2010


For my twenty-ninth birthday I got skin cancer. I am not intending to over-dramatize the situation, but those are the facts. I was fortunate to have basal cell carcinoma, the slowest growing and most treatable of the three types of skin cancer. Last week I had the spot surgically removed from my forehead at Creighton University Medical Center and do not anticipate any re-growth.

When I received my biopsy results, I started to think about how this happened at a young age. I have been wearing sunscreen on my face daily for the past sixteen years, I do not work outdoors, and I do not even like many outdoor activities. My fair skin and a few sunburns as a child may have put me at a greater risk. As I thought more about it while driving down the highway under thick Midwestern clouds, I figured I was smart to live in a place where the sun does not shine quite as much as in my native southern California.

Although I was never a big fan of the beach or trying to get a tan, until this summer I was used to something like 300 days a year of sunshine. As kids in California we did not have indoor lunchrooms; we ate and played outside on the sweltering blacktop almost every day of the school year. Outside of school there were always sunny activities as well. I rode bikes with my little brother on most days and on special occasions my parents took us skiing, fishing, or to even to Disneyland.

Having two adhesive bandages overlapping on my forehead has brought to light another difference between rural Iowa and suburban California. People that know me and those who do not are all asking the same question: “What happened to your face?” At first I could not figure out why it struck me as odd. I mean, why wouldn’t you inquire out of curiosity or concern? I came to the realization that people in California – or perhaps just in densely populated areas – think it is rude to notice anything out of the ordinary. I am completely sure I could go about my business for weeks in my former home with everyone I met pretending that I did not have a hole in my face. While I always found it absurd, it had been the only way of life I had known until now.

It seems to me that Iowans would be just as likely to have skin damage from the sun. I immediately think of farmers and others who work outside during the sunniest months of the year. In experiencing my first winter, I can see that I will want to spend all my free time outside when the weather is nicer. When the temperature hits forty or fifty degrees I might be driving with the windows down and the sunroof open. For me sunscreen, lip balm, and a hat are more convenient than changing the dressing over the seven stitches in my face right now. Don’t feel sorry for me, but do take care of yourself.


Copyright Rachel Burns 2010