In One Month

This weekend, my friend Liesl visited from the D.C. area. It was a good vegging weekend combined with a lot of grading and school prep, and a good friend who enjoys GHB time almost as much as me.

Today is Martin Luther King Jr. Day, another day of school, and one month till my due date. Yep, ONE MONTH. I checked in at the hospital and the OB nurse who processed my papers remembered Will as "the skinny resident who brought his own media" ... yes! That's my guy.

I asked for an epidural, skin-to-skin with my Bebe and to preferably not have a room near the nurses' station, since I am a light sleeper and the 36 hours I was in the hospital with Grace was way too much awake time.

Whaaaaaat? Sleeep?! {Days old Grace gets it.}

The one month before Grace was born, I wrote this {previously unpublished} post:

Sometimes, I wonder how I get to each new day. This weekend, I went to bed earlier than usual and I took my Tylenol PM as a pre-caution against being too awake while being overly-tired. 

An hour went by. 

Another hour went by. 

Will fell asleep 5 minutes after we said night prayers, and stayed asleep till around 6:30 a.m. I tried to keep sleeping; at least I was comfortable, wedged between three pillows. But I also knew I couldn’t stay in bed long before my stomach would start rumbling, hurting, demanding food. Or I would have to use the bathroom, again. 

This past week was a breakthrough for me. I talked to Will about my child birth fears. My rational, knowledgeable doctor-husband talked me through worst-case-scenarios (that’s where my mind always goes). I’m a big proponent of modern medicine, but I’ve also never been in the hospital myself. I’ve been there to volunteer, I’ve been there to see my mom after her baby deliveries, I’ve been there to see my mom at work, I’ve been there to visit people, and I’ve been there (well, the medical office building) for check-ups. 

I’m quite healthy. My fertility is healthy too. Will and I had our first meeting with our new Marquette teacher this past week. We’re switching from Creighton to Marquette for post-partum, and I’m excited for this new venture in fertility awareness. I’m lucky. I have no reasons to be nervous. 

My Bambino Baldwin is active to the point that I am convinced he/she is going to join the circus post-delivery. I’m about to start the job of a lifetime; a job I can never quit, a job I’ll find purpose in every day. Even if that purpose is making sure I drink at least one cup of coffee so I can pursue my passions, or whatever laundry needs folding, or just enjoying my baby.

It's very different knowing that Bebe Deux is a girl. It's very different bringing another baby into our family with both parents working, another baby already present to continue care for, and a non-warm climate. It's been a different pregnancy since I'm technically high risk. I did not attend birth class this time around, and my support person is just Will (no doula - even though I really loved having one!).

I have a lot of work to get done for school, and I'm trying to remain semi-optimistic about residency life even though this rotation is the worst, and Will's going to be on a similar one in March, a.k.a. 1-2 weeks after Bebe Deux comes out. (I WILL SURVIVE!)

Survival mode, however, is really where I see my strength come through. I do what has to be done. I ignore what can be ignored. I eat, love and pray to God that I get through till Will gets home, and then I allow myself to collapse. I sat on the bed a few days ago, overwhelmed by my day and Grace's clinging and thought, How will I manage with two?!

Waking up is hard sometimes...

I know I'll manage. I'll manage because I have to: because I'll have two little girls who depend on me, and a husband who needs me. I'll lean back on him (because I need him too), and kiss my little girls for smiles and good days and tears and bad days.

Snuggles make the world go 'round.

I'm not thinking worst-case scenarios this day. I'm not thinking messy, even though life is messy. I'm thinking joy. I'm thinking anticipation of meeting someone who is going to change my life. Change my life the way Will changes my life, the way Grace changes my life, the way Christ changes my life. The radical love of motherhood and calling and purpose and being and doing.

Grace "drinking coffee" and then smacking her lips after...

One month.

The Parenting Philosophical Society (and GHB at 9 months!)

Everyone is a Parenting Philosopher. You're doing what? Oh! Here's how I did it! According to this book/ article/ medical journal... You need to vaccinate/ I can't believe you're vaccinating. Cry it out? Yes way/ no way!

"Should she be chewing on that??"

I did not read any baby books while pregnant. It helped me not get anxious over unknowns and I learned to enjoy being pregnant (yes, even with all the nausea). I did read Bringing Up Bebe, which confirmed to me that letting kids play on their own is a good thing and for less helicopter parenting and more zone defense. But I knew that as a sister of five siblings and, later, a nanny. I like experience over theory; I like possibility over expectation. I was as ready for my sweet bebe as I was going to be, when the time came.

When did I really feel like a mother?

I ponder this question often. GHB turns 9 months today!!!!, and I am so crazy in love with this kid, Jay-Z and Beyonce are going to be jelly. She gets up in the morning and cries out till someone picks her up (thanks Will!), and when she sees me, she glows. There is nothing like the unconditional love glow of your baby every single time she sees you.

I knew I was a mother when, at 6 am of September 26 (Grace was born at 1:30, they took her away at 3 a.m., left me in a well-lit room until 5:30 am), the nurses brought her into me for a feeding just as I was drifting off to sleep.

My baby!! Sleeping while I'm awake. Typical.

REALLY, CHILD? I thought. MAMA SO SLEEPY. Then I touched her. She was my daughter? She responded to my touch. I brought her against me and fed her. When she was done, I put her back in her bassinet and when I tried to adjust my bed (for future notice, I like to sleep horizontal), she woke up. So I cradled her in my arms until the nurse came back to retrieve her to the hospital nursery so I could theoretically get more sleep. She snuggled against me and I just could not stop staring at that beautiful little bebe: my baby.

That's when I first felt like a mother: sacrificing my happiness for hers.

I feel like a mother because I care for Grace. I feed her, I dress her, I play with her, I read her books, and I take her almost everywhere I roam. Fortunately for me, she is a solid traveler. Unfortunately for me, she requires her own caravan and servants. Aha-kidding. I am her caravan.

I feel like a mother because I take responsibility for Grace. Guess who takes her to her doctor's appointments? Me. Guess who makes sure she gets Vitamin D? Me. Guess who does physical therapy with her? Me. Guess who gets up in the middle of the night when she's crying loudly or teething? Me again!

Beyonce moves during therapy

This morning, we attended breakfast with Will before his intern orientation lectures began. A fellow EM resident rushed over and gushed over Grace, before swooping her away to two other residents who, in turn spent the next 20 minutes passing her around, until she knocked over someone's cup of coffee. Oops.That child is mine. (May I get you more coffee??) I was very proud of her for allowing the women to hold her, and not getting her T-Rex look that usually comes with her stranger anxiety.

I feel like motherhood is looked at very conceptually: Am I ready? Or not? Sometimes, it is a clear answer. Othertimes, there is the invariable waffling because parenthood seems so inevitable, yet daunting.

I drove Will up the wall (I'm sure) the first few months of Grace's life, asking him how he felt about Grace. He loved her, fine, but how did he feel. Elation? Joy? Excitement?!

Happy? Okay, I can accept "happy"...

I'm happy too. I'm happy to be married to Will, I'm happy to be Grace's mom, and I'm happy with myself. At least, I am trying reallyreallyreally hard to be happy with myself.

I passed positive graffiti in the car today: "Love Yourself."

Yes, res publica! Love yourself! Note to self: not everyone feels as deeply as I do. And I feel deeply for Grace. I'm tardy on her month sticker pictures, I forget to write down her milestones, but I'm experiencing every day with her, and she teaches me so much. She shows me determination and she shows me sass.

So why have I been guilt-tripping myself on all the writing I don't do?

"No One Sleeps While I'm Awake" -- The Sounds (bedtime theme song)

I suppose, we humans like to show what we're capable of. We like to show what we can do. I know I do. And I am sharing this struggle with non-outside world productivity because I'm discovering that what I'm really doing these days is teaching Grace about love. Grace knows we love her, and she loves us - she loves us so much that she took a nap with me in bed this morning instead of in her crib. (Did I mention she has a total softy for a mother?)

And when I'm given advice, I know it usually comes from a place of love and a love of sharing one's knowledge to help better the world. Parenthood is not for the faint of heart. There will be crying and poopy diapers and weird rashes and the need/want to shower. There will be a baby in first place, always, who needs her mother to cares about herself too; loves herself too.

It is not enough to love your children. You must love yourself. This means learning to make mistakes and not taking everything personally. Different parenting techniques are not a reflection on you as a "bad" parent. If you're even trying to contribute to your child's happiness, you are already a "good" parent. We all have different roads we walk - why do we all want our children and problems to look the same, and be so easy to master.

I am not saying being sleep deprived has made me a better person. Lord knows I need my sleep. But the Good Lord also invented coffee (and sugar! and milk!), and naps for babies, so I am not totally without resources. And I am worthy. I am a daughter of the Lord and I do not struggle in vain.

Mamas, you are not doing this journey alone either! Find the joy in every day, and as my husband told me one morning after a very crabby night: Today is a new day! Make the most of it, and be happy.

Morning y'all!

Do you love yourself? You're the first teacher of self-love. Because we can show our children how to be happy. We can teach them what joy is, even when the skies grow dark. We teach them that in Christ, everything is possible -- even if that everything is one, small task of love. To-do lists don't matter when we look at eternity.

As St. Catherine of Siena said: "Start being brave about everything. Drive out darkness and spread light. Don’t look at your weaknesses. Realize instead that in Christ crucified you can do everything."

GHB, I wish you many months of happiness as you continue to approach your one year birthday. I am so proud of you! I love your smile, your laugh, your silliness, and the way you love your mom and dad. You are so patient with us. You are so strong during PT sessions. You are so good natured and snuggly. You are interested in the world, and an interesting little human. 

Will does the best voices for Frog and Toad

At 9 months, she:

• Sits independently
• Transitions around her toys
• Rolls
• Eats solids (mum-mums and blended fruits with oatmeal are her favorites!)
• Recognizes voices and faces
• Says "Ahhhhhhhh" and "mommomommomom" (especially when she wants me!)
• Expresses displeasure and happiness
• Laughs
• Pays attention and responds to stories and songs
• Picks up objects using hands, fingers, toes and sometimes her mouth (very resouceful!)

I hear her talking outloud as I type this...

Grace Harriet, you're growing up so fast! I hear you waking up! Mama is coming. You are loved.

O Lord, More Sleep Please: National Day of Prayer Edition

Today, I felt like an Easter person. A person who celebrates Easter in her heart and not just her head. I really feel the power of new life and second chances upon me.

It started so early Monday morning, when I thought we were going to miss my 6 am flight because I forgot about the Jazz Festers needing to head home, and in prayed fervently to Mama Mary to help me reach the plane in time. She delivered, understanding the extra stress it would have been since I carried my seven month old in her baby ergo and a bag with only 4 diapers.

I pray for my sanity.

We made our flight and Grace charmed all of our seat mates with her impeccable behavior, smiles, eyes, and winsome attitude. I felt very proud to be her mother.

I pray for Grace: her safety, her happiness, her life, her soul.

We flew to Philadelphia, where we met my mother-in-law and drove to Bethlehem, PA: home of the Peeps manufacturers (my favorite Easter treat) and our future home in a month and a half. Will stayed behind to go to class and gave me the task of finding our new home and prepping for our next step, which I accepted with glee.

I pray for Will and his time in residency: that is be fruitful and amazing learning experience.

At first, I was excited because I am ready for more SPACE. I feel cramped in our townhouse, and I don't want to hear the neighbors. I want Grace to have a play area, Will to have a man cave/dark room to sleep during the day, and I would love an office- and maybe double all those rooms as guest areas. More storage space too, please.

I pray our application is accepted, and for our new landlord. I pray we are safe and protected in this next home. I pray in thanksgiving for our current living arrangement and for our awesome realtor.

Last Sunday, after the last our house guests left, and the house returned to that comfortable quiet I feel when it's just the three of us, living and breathing and enjoying each other, the conversation turned to Baldwin Bebe #2 and speculation on when he or she would join us. And it really wasn't until Monday, sitting on an airplane, holding my baby, that I realized what a marvelous gift this next child would be, and for all my stressing, another baby sounds like the most delightful plan I can think of - and yes, Grace is teething right now.

Two weeks after we conceived Grace, I went to one of our parish priests to discuss my possible pregnancy (a test had not yet been taken) and he told me it was okay to feel anxiety, excitement and wonder. Will and I wanted to have kids right away... but this seemed fast? It was a new understanding of "in God's time" with our active participation. He told me that Mary felt the same way when the angel came to her, and what really matters was her yes, her fiat.

Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with you...

I'll never stop writing or cooking or having to do laundry, but by jingo! What's the point of being so happily married if we don't invite a few more characters on stage?

Lord, when it is time, we are ready. I pray you stay close to us in our marriage and in parenthood, and that our lives will glorify you.

Life never gets simple. People who are bored are missing the chances to find new hobbies, get to know themselves better, seek out interests and interesting people. If I had one prayer, it would be in thanksgiving for coffee. I had the worst sleep habits before my baby. I still have them, but reasons change for why I've changed them (necessity for my own sanity). I overuse the word "yes" and Grace has given me new reasons to indulge her rather than myself. I like the shift in scenery.

So, I write to you today to share the fear that has been lifted from my heart. The fear of the unknown and inexperienced: because our second baby is going to be just as awesome as Grace, and stretch our hearts further and wider.

Jesus suffered death for me; I can suffer suspense and a little sleep deprivation for the sake of the Kingdom.

Thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.

There is joy in all

"Welcome Morning" by Anne Sexton

There is joy in all:
In the hair I brush each morning,
In the Cannon towel, newly washed,
That I rub my body with each morning,
In the chapel of eggs I cook each morning,
In the outcry from the kettle
That heats my coffee each morning,
In the spoon and the chair
That cry “hello there, Anne”
Each morning,
In the godhead of the table
That I set my silver, plate, cup upon
Each morning.
All this is God,
Right here in my pea-green house
Each morning,
And I mean, though often forget,
To give thanks,
To faint down by the kitchen table in
A prayer of rejoicing
As the holy birds at the kitchen window
Peck into their marriage of seeds.
So while I think of it,
Let me paint a thank-you on my palm
For this God, this laughter of the morning,
Lest it go unspoken.
The joy that isn’t shared, I’ve heard, dies young.

We're being rained on, but we were happy to be in Germany!

H/T Sarah Babbs

Also, to add to this joy-themed post, one of my best friends had her baby girl last night! Hooray!

Some Things Never Change

Because it is Friday:

(From Hannah's tumblr; H/T DF)

A classic-- "The Wild Rover" performed by The Dubliners:



Then The Dubliners and "The Irish Rover":




Don't forget to clap along! :)

Today is Friday, the day I plan to finish the draft of my what-is-to-be my most widely read paper-- a white paper, to be exact. A white paper is a position paper. What am I taking a position on? Oh you'll never guess. I can't think if I've ever mentioned it before...

1031 EXCHANGES.

Oh yes. Please, contain your excitement. Although, really, I am excited. This paper is forcing me to write completely for a different audience: people who own trucking companies. Not academics. Not 10 second attention span news readers. My readers will be thousands of businessmen who do not fiddle faddle with politics and the he-said, she-said. They just want to know how the new laws and regulations are going to affect them. They want to sustain their business and be successful in the short and long-term. 

The trucking industry is getting hit hard these days, especially by the EPA. Do you know the trucking industry is the third largest employer of people in the country? And do you know that 7 percent of trucking companies have gone bankrupt in the past three years? And do you further know that if companies do 1031 exchanges, they do not have to pay one cent in taxes on their like-kind exchanged goods? 1031 exchanges have been around since 1921 but when the economy is good, people are not always looking for ways to save. And that's where my white paper comes in; it's going to be issued to thousands of trucking company owners and their financial advisers, giving them the ins and outs of 1031 exchanges, which is better known in real estate circles.

So that's what I've been working on the past month.

I've also been listening and watching things like this: I love, love, love how this little kid conducting Beethoven-- he gets so excited! (And sometimes stays on beat, too):





Also, the testimony of these two collegians is so encouraging and beautiful:



St. Mary's - College Station, TX from OneBillionStories.com on Vimeo.


(H/Ts to Aggie Catholic)


Today marks one week and a day until half a Baker's Dozen Hillsdale people descend on my house for B and Z's wedding...! I've been dress shopping, because I have another Kappa wedding in December, so DF and I have been pursuing the good and the beautiful at J.Crew. The colors we like best are "spiced wine" and "vintage blue." Something like this:

or this:

Not terribly exciting, I know, but decisions, decisions...

Happy Friday!

Sleepless in Cincinnati

On Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays (for at least the next semester), I am out the door by 6:30 a.m. to take my brother to ROTC training.


Now, what part of that sentence seems odd?

The night he came home in uniform!

If you guessed the part of me being out the door by 6:30 a.m., you are correct! If the above statement was in an article, it would be extensively fact-checked and supported by a quote because, in terms of Julie trivia, it is widely known and accepted that Julie is not a morning person.


And yet, here I am, many, many hours and 3 cups of coffee later, being productive and in a good mood. It may be further baffling to learn I volunteered to take Mikey in the morning. I am hoping it is the proper motivation I need to help get me into a cycle of waking up earlier and sleeping better at night. This is technically the second time I am voluntarily up at such an hour, so we shall see! (I took my sister to summer rowing practice by 6:30 a.m. during high school.)


On top of being a night owl, I am a notoriously light sleeper, which I can assure you is a bad combination. Last night was particularly bad, and then Heidi came into the guest bedroom (where I’ve been sleeping until my room is in complete order) and took up a sizeable chunk of the bed. Thanks, dog.




"A heart enfolded in Divine love cannot remain inactive."



Today is the feast day of St. Therese of Lisieux, also known as St. Therese, the Little Flower. She was a Carmelite nun who died of TB in 1897. Without getting into too much detail, she was a temperamental, emotional and sickly child who learned to control her emotions through prayer and a childlike devotion to Jesus. She entered the convent at age 15, wrote a diary now read by millions of people as a spiritual classic (The Story of a Soul) and strove to please God in all ways, especially small, because she believed she was never going to be important in this world. She said, "What matters in life is not great deeds, but great love."

Her Christian witness motivates for me to do better in menial aspects of my life. Last night, for example, I was organizing all my books (into fiction, academic, anthologies, spiritual, writing & grammar, etc.) when my dad called me downstairs to help him in the kitchen for a half hour. I didn’t want to go downstairs. The request irritated me. (As sung in Veggie Tales: "I'm so busy, busy, dreadfully busy!") Nevertheless, I decided to offer it up and complied with my dad's request. I ended up helping out for over an hour, talking to Dad and making fun of Heidi (who was watching me cut raw chicken into strips very, very closely). We were later joined by my sister, who shared a few Shel Silverstein poems, and then I helped her with Chemistry.


The hour spent downstairs was enjoyable, but I kept thinking about what would have happened if I had said no. (I have lots of time to think while not sleeping.) Nothing I did was urgent. It wasn't necessary. It was helpful and anyone-old-enough-to-use-sharp-knives could have done it. It was not a big or grand gesture. But I still did it. I still took time to help another. From the perspective that I didn't complain either, my willingness to help made it a happy environment, which drew others into the fun familial fellowship. I acted from love for others, opposed to satisfying my own want of organization. And gee whiz! It felt damn good. 
 And what does this have to do with my sleeplessness? Excellent question. I’ve used my sleeplessness to my advantage, for the most part. Late nights of hanging out with friends; late nights of studying and graveyard shift; late nights of reading and discovering. But not sleeping still takes its toll on the mind and body. My mom has taken me to doctor a couple times, but their suggestions have never particularly helped me. My dad told me that if I’m still having problems sleeping, I’m obviously not drinking enough.


They comment  because they care. Not sleeping can make Julie pretty crabby and, if provoked, I can descend southward of a 5-year-old child. In college, I was able to take naps. This opportunity has vanished in Big Kid world. But like that particular Sunday morning sophomore year, when I realized Jesus didn’t make me drink the night before and, therefore, I needed to go to mass irregardless of how horrible the idea of sitting/ standing/ sitting/ standing/ kneeling/ standing and actively participating sounded that early in the morning—the same goes for sleep. I need to control myself, even when I can’t control the situation.


St. Therese died when she was 24. That’s 1 ½ years away for me. That's quite young. Yet by loving God in her small way, she was able to project his greatness to the rest of the world. I don’t see myself reaching that many people, so at the very least, I can at least reach my own family and maybe a few friends too, along the way. If I can make them happy in this lifetime, and keep Christ at the center, there’s few else one could want—except maybe a few hours more of sleep. (Is that so much to ask? Ah, well. There’s always the weekend!)

Have a great weekend, folks! May it be full of fall activities, like crunching leaves, drinking apple cider and wearing plaid flannel.

The girl who loves Thursdays

--It's Centralhallapalooza this weekend! Will sent me this picture of myself from last year. Heather loves it. We're thinking the shades should make another appearance this weekend. Thoughts? [photo credit WPC]

This is a great poem, and food for thought:

"Tommy" by Rudyard Kipling

I went into a public-'ouse to get a pint o' beer,
The publican 'e up an' sez, "We serve no red-coats here."
The girls be'ind the bar they laughed an' giggled fit to die,
I outs into the street again an' to myself sez I:
O it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, go away";
But it's "Thank you, Mister Atkins", when the band begins to play,
The band begins to play, my boys, the band begins to play,
O it's "Thank you, Mister Atkins", when the band begins to play.

I went into a theatre as sober as could be,
They gave a drunk civilian room, but 'adn't none for me;
They sent me to the gallery or round the music-'alls,
But when it comes to fightin', Lord! they'll shove me in the stalls!
For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, wait outside";
But it's "Special train for Atkins" when the trooper's on the tide,
The troopship's on the tide, my boys, the troopship's on the tide,
O it's "Special train for Atkins" when the trooper's on the tide.

Yes, makin' mock o' uniforms that guard you while you sleep
Is cheaper than them uniforms, an' they're starvation cheap;
An' hustlin' drunken soldiers when they're goin' large a bit
Is five times better business than paradin' in full kit.
Then it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, 'ow's yer soul?"
But it's "Thin red line of 'eroes" when the drums begin to roll,
The drums begin to roll, my boys, the drums begin to roll,
O it's "Thin red line of 'eroes" when the drums begin to roll.

We aren't no thin red 'eroes, nor we aren't no blackguards too,
But single men in barricks, most remarkable like you;
An' if sometimes our conduck isn't all your fancy paints,
Why, single men in barricks don't grow into plaster saints;
While it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, fall be'ind",
But it's "Please to walk in front, sir", when there's trouble in the wind,
There's trouble in the wind, my boys, there's trouble in the wind,
O it's "Please to walk in front, sir", when there's trouble in the wind.

You talk o' better food for us, an' schools, an' fires, an' all:
We'll wait for extry rations if you treat us rational.
Don't mess about the cook-room slops, but prove it to our face
The Widow's Uniform is not the soldier-man's disgrace.
For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Chuck him out, the brute!"
But it's "Saviour of 'is country" when the guns begin to shoot;
An' it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' anything you please;
An' Tommy ain't a bloomin' fool -- you bet that Tommy sees!

Not sleeping at all, but a little sacrifice to make on the big thesis alter. I published my last Collegian book review today. I'll link it later. Today shall be my last Thursday classes, last on-campus mass, last DPN lunch (Dr. Jordan talked about American Southern Lit) and tonight is my last Blue and Blue dinner! I'm excited to hear what Little has to say.

More job opportunities arising, but we'll see what happens. God has a plan. In the meantime, I need to finish/ start more papers. No, it never does end.

Planting another Dogwood

Delta Pi Nu planted their annual Dogwood tree in honor of Dr. Birzer, who was the program's leader from 2004 to December 2009. Matt asked me give a mini-speech about him, so here it is:

“Ballad of the Midwesterner”

Over Easter Break, I went home to discover my room had been taken over and looted by my five siblings. My book shelves were half-empty and little plastic soldiers were stationed around and on my furniture, with numerous forts made of wooden blocks barricading against the Legos advancing by the hundreds. My desk had even been taken by my littlest sister.

My walls were the only part of my room left untouched. They are painted yellow and are mostly decorated with Impressionists’ prints and photographs. On the wall closest to my door, next to a picture of my senior year lacrosse team, is a letter on Hillsdale stationary. The writer congratulated me on my admittance to the college and expressed excitement for my interest in the American Studies program, going on to explain the major and saying he looked forward to meeting me. It was signed Bradley J. Birzer.

I’m not delusional enough to think that letter was written specifically for me, but it still made an impression. It confirmed my prayers that Hillsdale College, a school I should have not even considered, let alone attended, was where God wanted me to go.

I did not meet Dr. Birzer until my sophomore year or get to know him until I was a junior, but as a senior, I am blessed to enjoy a fruitful fellowship with such a brilliant and godly man and teacher. My life has been changed by Dr. Birzer. I do not say this lightly, nor do I say it about many people. Most people impress something upon me, but few challenge and have thus shaped the way I understand the world and my place in it.

I belong to the last class of American Studies majors to have Dr. Birzer preside over the program. Most of my classes with Dr. Birzer have been upper-level history classes. His strength is his very person: his passion to explain history, not just tell it, with a true depth and continuity of the material resonating through his warm voice. His ability to connect history to the present day and teach his students about events, places and people always left a lasting impression. I have loved every research paper topic I’ve written for him and I find I enjoy writing long IDs in blue book exams, if only to prove my worthiness to be his student. But in true Dr. Birzer-fashion, my academic humbling comes in the form of Birzer trivia, the kind I know I will later be answering as penance for sins.

Dr. Birzer does not just teach through his words, as beautiful and well-phrased as they often are. Dr. and Mrs. Birzer’s willingness to have the Dogwood Society over to their house for various gatherings and to involve the majors with their children helped create camaraderie between students not formerly friends, as well as giving all of us an example of what it means to be a man and woman, a husband and a wife, parents, citizens, Christians and humans.

The definition of what it mean to be human was an open question my second-semester junior year in Dr. Birzer’s American Order and Disorder class, the class that ultimately tied all my learning together. To be human is to suffer, to love, to pray, to surrender and to fight, to laugh out loud, to protect and cherish, to learn, to die, to do good unto others, to comfort, to contribute and to carry one’s cross. Dr. Birzer defined self-sacrifice through Willa Cather, faith within A Canticle for Leibowitz, Christendom in Dawson, honor and duty by Chesterton, meaning from Voegelin and the Incarnation with the help of Eliot.

In my studies at Hillsdale, the Incarnation is the reason why we can “rejoice in hope, endure in affliction, [and] persevere in prayer” (Romans 12:12). It is only through Christ that we can know what it means to be human, the acknowledgement of the Logos as a basis for human dignity, and the fullness and power of Christ in the history of man. I understand this because of Dr. Birzer, and it is because I understand this that I am a better person than when I got that letter four years ago.

Thus I will end my thank you to Dr. Birzer by reading the end of “Letter to My Children,” the forward of Whittaker Chamber’s book Witness. Dr. Birzer’s greatest contribution to me is his witness to God as a fallen human being. He helped lead this little platoon through our college experiences, and at the end of it, we are not sad because we know that “We shall not cease from exploration/ And the end of all our exploring/ Will be to arrive where we started/ And know the place for the first time” ("Little Gidding," Eliot).

If Dr. Birzer has taught us anything, it is that we Dogwoodians—indeed all at Hillsdale College—have a responsibility to our fellow Americans to stand as witnesses for the truth, whether in the public arena or within our own communities. The danger of ideologies, as shown in Chambers and Russell Kirk’s writings, is the replacement of faith in God with faith in Man. We still see this today. We are always at a turning point in history: the question is, which way will we turn?

"My children, when you were little, we used sometimes to go for walks in our pine woods. In the open fields, you would run along by yourselves. But you used instinctively to give me your hands as we entered those woods, where it was darker, lonelier, and in the stillness our voices sounded loud and frightening. In this book I am again giving you my hands. I am leading you, not through cool pine woods, but up and up a narrow defile between bare and steep rocks from which in shadow things uncoil and slither away. It will be dark. But, in the end, if I have led you aright, you will make out three crosses, from two of which hang thieves. I will have brought you to Golgotha-the place of skulls. This is the meaning of the journey. Before you understand, I may not be there, my hands may have slipped from yours. It will not matter. For when you understand what you see, you will no longer be children. You will know that life is pain, that each of us hangs always upon the cross of himself. And when you know that this is true of every man, woman and child on earth, you will be wise."

This week is Senior Week for Kappa. I am so excited! Little was doing arts and crafts in Koon... I walked in on her and then was banished to go out the back door. Currently working on my Flannery O'Connor paper due tomorrow. I'm analyzing "You Can't Be Any Poorer Than Dead" and "Judgment Day." The Tower Light will be released Tuesday and the Forum will (hopefully!) go to press Tuesday or Wednesday. Formal is on Friday and thesis WILL be finalized by then. Defense next Wednesday, and two more papers due the Tuesday before... YAY COLLEGE!!!

Turning on the facet

I shan't be posting often, at least nothing too original. I have a paper due Thursday on legislating morality (see below), and my thesis is in dire need of attention. I'm also starting to research my Flannery O'Connor paper for Somerville (!!). March is going to be an extremely productive and mind-numbing experience. Don't mark this as complaining, please. I do love it. It's intellectually exciting and the journalist in me thrives on the deadlines. That being said, I'll be holed up in the Lane computer lab, ignoring the newly-falling snow, drinking cold coffee and typing away. Feel free to stop by.

Below is my current opening to my Con-Lib Debate class paper. Rach, I thought you'd particularly like to see it. This isn't the final, obviously, but it should give you an idea of where I'm going. I have about 2 pages thus far, plus about 12 pages of notes, my outlines and books, articles and essays piled about me. I don't look forward to packing this all up later tonight, but I am enjoying writing it.

My footnotes are not going to show up, but if you're interested in where I got something, I can point you in the right direction.

Morality is a force worth considering. Plutarch, in his discourse “On Bringing up A Boy,” says “To put it shortly, it is surely absurd to train little children to receive their food with the right hand, and to scold them if they put out the left, and yet to take no precautions that they shall be taught moral lessons of a sound and proper kind.” Aristotelian ethics concurs that one must be brought up the right way in order to know and therefore act in a virtuous way. What is the right way, however, has been the subject of much controversy, particularly in the 20th century. Moreover, as many alternative lifestyles and choices become more mainstream, the very question of what is right and what is wrong is being diminished. The question of whether or not the government can legislate morality therefore arises from where the powers of government stem from, whether morality can be lawfully legislated, and if the government has a right to control the private lives of its citizens. A further argument will be made: toleration, a chief good in America, is being exploited into coerced acceptance; religious institutions are being rendered helpless by an epistolary comment made by Thomas Jefferson eons ago, known widely in civic, religious and political circles are the separation of Church and State. There is, however, one religious institution that refuses to budge on issues of morality, faith and reason in the public sphere, and that is the Catholic Church. The Catholic Church is not on the “right” side of politics; it is the “most intolerant of churches” wrote English economist John Stuart Mill, was “the whore of Babylon” to Founding Father John Adams, and is the “greatest force for evil in the world,” according to philosopher and evolutionary biologist Richard Dawkins. Yet there is something America can learn from the Holy See, and that is an adherence to founding principles.

There's a business class going on in the lab right now. I'm learning lots about markets, market prices, stocks and graphs. My ipod is on shuffle; it goes from Nico to The Who to Patricia Ahn to Bob Dylan to the Violent Femmes to Belle and Sebastian, and so forth. Good day.

Oh, and here's a song that is the direct opposite of Hillsdale at present, but still an excellent song:

“We're so busy watching out for what's just ahead of us that we don't take time to enjoy where we are.” -C&H

Rachel, I thought you would like to see this snap of Bid Night, when Vivy had the flag and I was at a pause in leading cheers up the hill. I was absolutely hoarse the next day, but that didn't stop me from teaching the new members "Rah Rah for Kappa Kappa Gamma" later that night, of course. Kappa toughens you up. :)

Today, my friends, is full: thesis meeting-dinner crew with Vivy-chapter meeting-reading till bed (and try to sleep since I have an 8 a.m. on Tuesday-Thursdays). I've already gone to class, written 3 letters and talked to a source for my thesis. I have to go meet Dr. Carlson soon and will attempt to re-establish order (i.e. clean) in KKG 11. My sister called me before her 1 o'clock and told me a story, the funniest part being “I paid four bucks for a shot and it was gone in like, a minute. What a rip-off!”

Things I like: watching ducks, Calvin & Hobbes comics, dance parties with Heather in our room

Things I dislike: people who play with their gum, rudeness, when my coffee tastes like coffee

Things I love: walking Heidi while the neighbors sleep, saying "Lord, I am not worthy to receive you, but only say the word, and I shall be healed" during mass, phone calls from my far-away family

Things I abhor: the word "hate," smallish minds, lima beans

Happy Monday! Don't catch a case of it.

Two-Paper Thursday

1) Robert Frost poem analysis
2) review of Pauline Maier's American Scripture book

The Hillsdale Forum will be released tomorrow. Homecoming this weekend. Get excited.

If I were a boy...

Today was pick-up for the fraternities on campus. They usually drive by honking their cars with their flag and new members, looking ridiculous (in a mostly good, more silly way): DTD has the body paint, EX covers them in shaving cream, ATO dresses old-school (high socks, gym shorts, sweat bands, etc.) and DPS dresses even weirder in tight sports clothes (i.e. under armor), underwear on the outside and I definitely saw one of them wearing a gorilla suit. They usually come by the sororities and do their cheers, so that was a fun wasted hour. It rained on us, but we were blasting music at Kappa and having a grand old time.

EX wanted the sorority girls to buy/ wear a shirt saying "If I was a guy, I'd rush Sigma Chi." They initially sounded cute and I considered buying one out of loyalty to my Sigma Chi friends in Hillsdale and DC (not to mention both my grandfathers are EXs), but then I was talking to my dad about it and he said, "Julie, if you were a James, you'd be at UC and you'd be an SAE."

SAE, or Sigma Alpha Epsilon, is an old Southern fraternity my father, all my uncles and four of my five guy cousins in college are in (and all at the University of Cincinnati); the one, when my cousin Zach is rushing this semester, the one my cousin Jack and brother Mike will most likely rush as well next year. No, if I were a guy, I'd rush SAE. I didn't buy the shirt. That being said, I'm wearing my dad's old fraternity sweatshirt and loving it. I usually wear it when I get homesick, but I think today is as good a day as any.

I wonder sometimes if I missed out not going to the same school as four generations of my parent's family went to, not being part of that tradition. My sister Katie transferred there from Miami when she switched her major from business to engineering and my brother Mikey will most likely go there next year as well.

It's a wonderance, but not one I stay on for very long. I love UC--I bleed red and black--but I am so happy and eternally grateful that I go to Hillsdale because I'm better fulfilling my potential here. My mind is constantly growing, I'm meeting some of the best people who push me towards betterment and my relationship with God is growing deeper.

That being said, Cincinnati Bearcats are #1 in the Big East! They won their 5th game against Miami today, which I am sure was an easy, but a victory nonetheless. I think they're also ranked 8th in the nation as well.

Today I'm reading Maier/ reviews of Maier/ Frost biography/ Frost poetry, writing writing writing, editing articles and looking into internships and fellowships. The Forum is going to press soon, so that's exciting and a lot of work to add into the weekend.

Coffee's getting cold. Today's readings at mass were excellent and our discussion yesterday at Bible Study about them was fruitful; I'll have to write a little bit about it when I have more time. "Mr. Tambourine Man" just came on my ipod--the 1966 live at Manchester version.

Finally, here's the Pope's letter to the new Ambassador. It is very comforting, especially for Catholics in America, to see the Pope not falter against the pressures of modernity.

Happy first Sunday of October!

Friday (in a nutshell)

Today:
1. rainy
2. found my glasses
3. Hillsdale Forum

more later!

I miss CN people

One of the Hillsdale Forum's staff members who I really, really wanted to go to the conference this year talked his teacher into letting him take his midterm at another time!! Weight off my shoulders, to say the least. Besides the girl we're also sending, there was no one else I wanted to send, especially since the two of them are going to be running the paper next year I hope he loves it as much as I always did; I see so much potential in him, I can hardly hold in my excitement.

I'm bummed I can't go to the CN conference this year. I always meet awesome people there (Oh, hey Haynes!), but then again I think the only reason I would really want to go this year is so that I could see and have a rollicking good time with Schubes, Hunter, Will and Amanda again. Also, it's in San Antonio, Texas and I've never been there before. Otherwise, I wouldn't mind so much. We have initiation that weekend, so I absolutely cannot miss that, for obvious reasons.

I lost the poem I wrote for the TWT people I worked for this summer, so I'm looking for that before getting back into my required reading. I'll have to post it on here whenever I find it. I'll also have to post pick-up pictures so that y'all can see my little and me!! (Rach, if you're coming back for Homecoming, you MUST meet her!! She is so sweet.)

I'd rather be sleeping right now, but I think I'm going to just work through the day. Thanks, coffee'd-milk! Have a great day, friends.

Kickin' it off with a stryofoam cup of wake-me-up

Here is my book review that appeared in last week's Collegian: The protest singer: changing the politics of art - Arts I read "The Protest Singer: Pete Seeger, an intimate portrait" by Alec Wilkinson.

Today is typical Michigan weather: rainy and dismal. The Longfellow poem keeps running through my head ("the day is cold and dark and dreary"), but I suppose it is time. Hillsdale has been having the most beeeautiful end of summer weather: warm and balmy, with that nice northern breeze. While talking to my sister Marianne on Sunday, she told me home had "Michigan weather" and then, upon hearing how nice Hillsdale was, accused me of "stealing Cincinnati weather." I plead the Fifth.

I slept from 5 a.m. to 7 a.m. and am currently running on many, many cups of coffee. I had my first art history test today and, due to my busy schedule, was not adequately prepared come Sunday. I pulled my first (almost) all-nighter of the school year and studied my notecards. I felt really prepared come this morning at 9 a.m., my only weakness being dates, but even if I miss a few of those, it's only a half point. I definitely got everything else and am feeling quite pleased.

I'm really tired, but one of my favorite tricks to hide that is that I always dress up. I find that if you look good, you feel even better! Coffee helps too, of course. I've got leagues of research ahead of me today, as well as dinner crew and chapter.

Meeting my friend Ben for lunch, so ta-ta for now!

Happy Labor Day!

I do not measure my days in coffee spoons, but rather how many times I am bouncing my leg up and down because of the coffee I drank this morning (standard 16 oz. styrofoam, non-recyclable cup found in the Kappa kitchen), which was 1/4 to 1/3 coffee and then filled with skim milk, which not only helps dilute the taste, but also cools it down considerably. I'm bouncing because the coffee gives me more "energy" or whatever; I'm sure I'll run it out of my system tonight.

I am happy to report that because I drank the aforementioned coffee, I was completely alert during my Art History class, which is the litmus test for me as Dr. Bushey dims the lights to show us the slides. I find this a very dangerous practice with college students as 9 o'clock in the morning, but it is a risk she must take. We are currently in the Middle East area (which she is calling the 'Ancient Near East,' comprised of Mesopotamia and Egypt, respectively.

My Frost class was good today; we were discussing his literary influences and ancestry (Classical and American), his interactions with Pound in England (who wanted him to try more free verse, which Frost considered akin to playing tennis with the net down) and how he was a more traditional prosodist during the modernist poetry revival. I was also pleased that Dr. Sundahl brought up E.A. Robinson as a comparison to Frost, as well as his poem "Richard Corey," which I was happy to share aloud with the class since I was the only one who had previous experience with it (or, at least, admitted publicly to have read the poem, which really is a intriguingly dark look at people and interesting analysis in their perception of others).

Last night, while reading Frost, I stumbled upon one of my favorite lines of Frost, which I had found in an old Latin book of mine: "He studied Latin, like the violin,/ Because he liked it" - which I now know is from Frost's poem "The Death of the Hired Man," which is phenomenal. The dialogue between the husband and wife concerning their hired man and the dignity of life really should touch a nerve, especially concerning today's society that lacks an obligation to others and sees people as disposable.

I am eating lunch up the hill today, which will be my first time at Saga all year. I do not miss it, but I am excited to have lunch with the old gang (Marisa, Melissa, Zach and Mikey, respectively). I shall study in the library till 3, when I have Founding and then back to the house for the majority of the evening! We have our first chapter meeting of the semester tonight; quite excited. Mondays are going to be very Kappa-filled since I work crew for dinner, help set-up for the meeting and then have the meeting. I'm sure I'll squeeze more reading in there if necessary.

It is raining in Hillsdale today, so I am wearing my wellies, which Dr. Sommerville commented that he liked from under his umbrella. Dr. Siegel told me I looked happy today, which was probably due to the grin I wear all the time, but also could be attributed to my cornflower blue v-neck matched with kelly green cardigan--not to mention that my wellies are also kelly green and have navy blue seahorses on them :) My skirt is a dark corduroy brown though, so I do not look like a complete Easter egg today.

I hope you are all enjoying the holiday!

Things I'm Going to Miss about The Washington Times

Tomorrow is my last day. I thought it better to write this out today:

10. My Times e-mail. It's so great and it's really helpful since I have to contact so many publicists. Besides, work e-mail is just so chic and I love seeing the paper's name behind mine.

9. Hanging out at Aaron's desk in the newsroom before leaving the office to say "hi" and IHOPing

8. David coming up from the newsroom to sit on the couch in my "temporary office" (that I've had all summer) to talk politics and ideas and exchanging stories

7. Getting coffee with Krudy in the TWT cafeteria and walking past him on my way to the mail room

6. Saying good morning to the editorial writers; hearing Brett say "Good morning sunshine!"; having them tease and talk to me; helping me with pieces; doing research; hearing they forget that I'm a girl so they "sailor talk."

5. Getting a book in the office after I had contacted the publicist; likewise, developing familiarity with certain publicists and publishing houses.

4. Being part of the peanut gallery, i.e. kibitzing with the managing editor and the letters editor from our respective offices

3. Eating lunch in my office, just listening to the office around me

2. Opening up bags of packages filled with books! It's like Christmas or my birthday. Not that I even want to keep most of the books (yes, a few), I just love opening them.

1. My editor, Carol. She's the best. She's also like my mom and I'm going to miss talking to her.

Things I'm NOT going to miss (this list had to be here too): that annoying security guard I feel has a vendetta against me, riding the shuttle, my cold office, the printer that decides when it wants to work, annoying publishers, transferring calls, telling people that someone no longer works here, bad coffee and the-interns-who-shall-not-be-named.

Harry Potter is worth not going to bed at a reasonable hour for

First off: saw the midnight showing of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince last night with my friends Tessa, Hunter, J-Babe (who went as "Fratty Potter," it was so funny) and his girl friend Kaitlin. We got to the theater a little before 10:30 (movie was supposed to start at 12:01) and the line was wrapped around the large block and up the side street. The amount of people there was ridiculous, yet awesome. I deal fine with crowds, I just prefer to not. Too many pushy and annoying people. Heather called me though to find out when I was going back to school so that we could move all our stuff (i.e. books and winter clothes, etc.) from Mac to Kappa together. It was so wonderful hearing her voice; the three hour time difference makes it a wee bit difficult to catch each other, but when we do, it is always glorious.

The movie was amazing. I would see it again today or tomorrow or the next day in a heartbeat. Even though I read all the Harry Potter books multiple times, I am embarrassed to say I have since forgotten many major components of the sixth, and that I yelped at a part involving something coming out of dark water rather suddenly (dark water is probably one of my biggest fears; there are just too many variables--also, the whole didn't know that was coming element: I can be a jumpy person in general, so that most likely contributed as well.) The plot was not disjointed, there was character development, actual funny parts (not just forced laughing between the three protagonists), as well as elements of sympathy, growing pains (Draco's angst was pretty classic), action and adventure, and great dialogue.

Today I edited the Sunday section (including my own review!) and am now taking a break from reading my second book. I'm also meeting with one of my favorite editorial writers later to go over and discuss the op-ed I wrote. I found a neat book on the give-away table by the Books office called "The Constitutional Presidency;" that would have been a neat senior thesis topic as well! I drank (am still drinking) coffee today but I didn't (don't) like it. I even made it myself and still didn't (don't) like it. I made Ben (an editor) coffee too and his was fine, so I know it is not just me botching up the brew.

Tonight I am meeting up with Matt, Will and Zach at the Press Club for drinks, and then heading over to Chinatown to have dinner with CNers. I think it shall be another lovely night. The weather continues charming.

In closing, I saw an interesting quote and wondered what y'all think about it: "Ah, summer, what power you have to make us suffer and like it." --Russel Baker.

I'm not sure what the context is or where it is even from, but it certainly made me think I haven't suffered too horribly this summer; in fact, I've kind of liked it!

Just one of the guys

This morning, I opened the conference room because I knew where the key was and the senior editor didn't. As a result, Quinn, one of my favorite editorial writers, made a bowing motion towards me because the conference room has the coffee machine and he needed coffee reeeeal bad. One of the editors told me that he's so used to me being here, he forgets I'm there and talks "sailor talk," which I suppose is opposed to more polite talk around the females versus what he says to the rest of the department (i.e. the men). I've decided to take that as a compliment!

I looked over the proofs for the Sunday section, and it was nice to see changes I had made make it into the final copy. Makes me happy that I am doing my small part for the Books section of the paper.

This is just a small story, but I helped Logan with his crossword puzzle this morning and I think it made my entire day. Probably because the last time Logan needed help on a crossword answer, it was a legal term and I could not think of it for the life of me. It super bummed me out, so I think that was a redeeming moment for me haha. The answer was "signet ring" -- classic.

I've decided that if I wasn't in Books or Editorial, I would totally want to be at the Sports desk. They meander into the office wearing Friday casual every day, with half of them wearing plaid shirts and the other half wearing jerseys; I've only seen Phillies jerseys so far, but I am sure they root for other teams too. (Okay, that's an exaggeration--I've seen plenty of oxfords, ties, and khakis in that office too.) They seem to just sit around, type furiously, and discuss sports all day. What a great job to have! I started writing for the sports section my sophomore year of high school, and then was Sports Editor for the next two years. I love love love the Sports section. If I could have a sports beat? I would pick tennis or soccer; maybe football. There's not much demand for lacrosse reporting, I sadly note.

Having dinner with Kappas tonight! Am determined to finish my book review today.

Today's editorial about Sotomayor. Great line: "No judge who says her gender or ethnicity allows her to choose to see only certain facts and not others should come within a country mile of a lifetime appointment to the Supreme Court."

Also, an excellent article from The Jerusalem Post about a Palestinian female journalist who the Hamas police (Hamas government's Propagation of Virtue and the Prevention of Vice security force) attempted to arrest for dressing immodestly and laughing in public. Another reminder for why America is great!

And, for my final shout-out, check out my friend Andrew's blog. He's biking across the country (started at the Atlantic, heading towards the Pacific!) and is logging their expedition. It is a great read in general, but with his pictures it is ever better. I think they are still in Montana at this point (it's a huge state!!).

Facts are useless in emergencies

Day MUCH better:

--coffee helped (thanks Carol!)
--talked to Mom and Dad
--talked to Hunter in Italia
--e-mails from Rachel and Julia
--the letters editor and I had the office area to ourselves (Mary Lou's funeral was this afternoon); we went on a field trip to the cafeteria, he sent me this funny movie review and one he wrote too, talked about the Talking Heads (I swear they are coming up all the time this summer!) and making obscure cultural references in article headlines, and I helped him edit a letter.
--Aaron sent me this hilarious article from The Onion, which is great since we went to IHOP yesterday.
--had a back and forth with two of my sisters-- Katie and Muffy are too funny :)

Thanks for the thoughts and prayers; I definitely felt them. I am working on my book review and laughing listening to the managing editor and the letters editor kibitz.

"All Moanday, Tearsday, Wailsday, Thumpsday, Frightday, Shatterday." --James Joyce (I think from Finnegan's Wake)