Today is Kelly’s first day at Trenton High School. She changed her mind when I was halfway to Trenton to sign her up for Bell. The reason for this is sound though. My mother works at BHS and while it would be great to be there, my mother is planning to retire at the end of this year. In choosing to go to THS, she will be at the same school as two of her cousins (Jamie, 9th grade and Madison, 6th grade). She is now a Trenton Tiger with her school colors Black and Gold.

We found out recently that the high schools in Gilchrist Co do not offer honors classes and this was disappointing because Kelly was due to take three honors courses. She did have the option of taking the classes online at FLVS (Florida Virtual School) but declined when she found out her other option was to take the same classes from the local community college and receive college credit for them. She took her College Placement Test (CPT) last Friday and scored well enough to allow her into the classes. Now, if we can just convince her to study more seriously than before.

On Saturday, we attended a baby shower for my very good friend Dawn Murray. She is due to have her first child on Sept. 6th and I have been honored with the request to be in the delivery room with her and her husband Chad (aka Bad Chad or Chadalisious). Olivia and Stephanie may be there as well. Stephanie’s job will be making the phone calls, Olivia’s job will be ice chips, even though they don’t do ‘squat’ (ref. Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2). And I will be holding her hand trying to find the words to convince her that she will love through this and that she doesn’t actually hate her husband. Good times!

I just received a text from my Dad. “Your ‘little tigger’ has been dropped off @ Tigger School. She was a little nervous, but her cuz is showing her around.”

Can’t wait to hear how it goes and I probably won’t have to; chances are she will text me during lunch, or earlier.

I don’t usually have nightmares but I had one the other night. Little wonder as I am under a bit of stress at the moment. It is 5:30AM and I am still having trouble sleeping. I hope by writing it down and trying to piece it out, I will get some relief and maybe some sleep later. Here goes…

In the dream I am living with my husband and my three youngest kids in my childhood home in St. Aug. Across the street from me is a couple who is arguing. During the dream the man kills the woman and I witness it. As I am watching I realize the man knows what I have seen. I am in my house with the kids in a back room and while I am on the phone with the 911 operator (who doesn’t seem to care for anything but gossip as she knows the guy) dismisses my call for help. The man comes over, looks in the window of the front door and starts to threaten me and the kids. Meanwhile, my husband is standing in the garden next to a tree watching it all happen.

I woke up terrified telling myself it was only a dream, it isn’t real. I still can’t sleep because while I know it isn’t real, it still bugs me and I need to figure this out.

My childhood home in St. Aug was a place with happy memories and a sense of security. Across the street was a vacant lot that allowed me to see Matanzas Bay and watch the boats if I sat on the front porch steps (which I did, a lot). The only thing I can figure is that I dreamed of a place that was secure and the murder I witnessed was my peace of mind being destroyed. When the ‘man’ realized I saw what was happening, he came to confront me and maybe destroy a ‘witness’. I don’t know why there were only three kids. (Maybe it is because the older ones are leaving home shortly). The 911 operator on the phone acted as if she knew the guy and only wanted to know what he had done this time. She didn’t mention sending any help. As the man is threatening me, I remember seeing Ben standing and wondering why he didn’t protect us. Thinking back, it seems that while it was Ben, it was a younger version of Ben. He just stood there but he had a very intense look on his face. Perhaps he wanted to help but just didn’t know what to do.

This could be a very accurate description of my life right now. Or it could be a bunch of hooey. I suppose it depends on who you ask. I hope it helps and I will give it some more thought. I have to be awake in an hour to take kids to the orthodontist as well as school shopping and go with my mother-in-law to the Y to exercise and then we may have company for dinner. One last family meal before Kelly goes to Trenton. Hopefully I will be so exhausted I will be asleep before my head hit’s the pillow. Let’s hope so.

Kelly-She's going :(

I do not have a green thumb; in fact I can barely grow weeds. I am told that in order to grow a beautiful garden the plants take a lot of care, water, sunshine, nutrients etc. However my plants never grow. (This may have something to do with our mutt, Dipstick) Sometimes, however, despite all the care given, if the soil and environment isn’t just right the flowers will wither and wilt. This seems to be the case with my Kelly.

She is going; my baby is flying the coop a little early and going to live with her grandparents in order to attend a different high school. Starting Monday, she will be a Bell Bulldog rather than a Palatka Panther. She will be wearing purple and gold rather than blue and gold. Tomorrow morning I will be going to Gilchrist Co. to hand over the paperwork that will give my parents temporary guardianship and give BHS the transcripts and PHS release forms. As a mom I think I should be crying but I am so excited for her.

Part of the problem at PHS is inappropriate grabbing in the halls. No surprise, Kelly HATES that. Her sister Olivia is generally able to thwart such behavior with ‘the look’ and Stephanie has been known to land a good solid punch and get away with it. (What boy wants to admit he got beat by a girl) but Kelly just wants to leave and find a safer environment. I have been assured that this type of behavior is not tolerated at BHS. Time will tell.

Talking to Kelly today, she sounds excited, nervous and happy to be going to a different high school. This makes me feel like I may have made the right decision for her. So. it is my hope that by replanting my little flower in different soil she will find all she needs to thrive. No more wilting flowers!

Kelly-Should she stay or should she go now?

My second oldest daughter , Kelly absolutely hates the high school she is assigned to. She has some friends but it doesn’t seem like that is enough to keep her happy there. She hates it and there is always Facebook and texting for friends. She has been spending the last week or so with my parents over in Trenton, FL and is having a good time. The schools in Gilchrist county (Trenton and Bell) are ALL considered “A” schools while the schools here in Putnam Co. are, well, down the list a bit. I am considering allowing Kelly to live with my parents and attend high school at Bell High School where my mother works. Trenton is 2 hours away so ‘dropping in’ to see her will not be easy. There is no soccer team for the school but there is for the recreation department. There is a track team and Kelly has talked about joining track. There is also Medical Skills. This is a series of classes she took her freshman year at Palatka High School and she can continue at Bell. I think this will be a good move for her but she is 15 and I can’t help but think that if I allow this she will one day feel like I gave her up. This has to be her decision, however, I feel like she will choose to stay in Trenton.

I feel awful in that I hope she does stay. Don’t get me wrong, I love my daughter very much and I will miss her terribly but because I love her, I want her to have a chance at a better education in an environment where she is comfortable. Everyone deserves that chance. I didn’t allow it with Olivia, my oldest but with Olivia’s personality, the adversity made her stronger. She is now the Student Council President. Olivia and Kelly, while both very intelligent have very different personalities and what works for one may not work for the other. I hope I am making the right decision.

The Object of My Desire

This is a short story I wrote one night when I couldn't sleep.

The Object of My Desire

As a professor teaching poetry in a small town I meet a lot people but I am rarely surprised by them. However, I have been reminded lately that surprises come because you think you know everything and so you aren’t prepared. I first met Sally, a slender, petite blond woman with a shy expression and tired blue eyes when she entered my classroom a few months ago. She was usually rushing in late, mumbling apologies and moving awkwardly to her seat in the back of the classroom. She was married I knew from her records and had a few kids which might have accounted for her tardiness and though she rarely spoke in class discussions, she was always watching, as though trying to absorb everything. She didn’t take notes and her tests grades were average. I asked another student who sat near her and sometimes spoke with her if there was a problem I should be aware of. The student shook her head no and told me Sally took the class to get out of the house for one evening a week. She said that ‘six years of children’s programs and books were starting to numb her brain’.

“She could do a lot better in my class” I told the student as we left the classroom and she replied,

“Oh, Sally doesn’t really care either way, she just needed to get out,” and walked out the door into the cool night.

At the end of the term I was frantic as usual trying to get papers graded and make-up tests finished when I heard a soft knock on my office door.

“Come in” I answered, thinking it was one of the many students coming in to complain about a grade or worse, a particular student who felt she could offer ‘favors’ in return for higher grades. This particular student was a nightmare and preparing myself for defense, I was startled to see Sally standing there.

“Dr. Johnson” she said quietly “I think I may have a test to make up?”

She still stood in the doorway and I ushered her in feeling annoyed at the intrusion. ‘Why now? Why does it matter now after all of these months’ I thought? Looking at the enormous pile of ungraded work on my desk and thinking of the “Lolita” that had just left my office with another proposal had left me on edge and I said sharply to Sally

“Fine, have a seat.”

She sat quietly looking around as I ignored her and after a few minutes asked if there was a test she could take. I just stared at her. I shouldn’t have taken out my frustrations on her but I did.

I said “The lecture you missed focused on desire” I lied. “You were to write a poem about that. Do you know anything about desire at all?”

She blushed and said softly “Maybe a little or rather I used too”

This was intriguing so I asked her to name qualities that would attract her. She thought for a moment and said

“Rich but not too much. Smooth and um, sweet?” she said as though she wasn’t sure.

“No ‘sense of humor’? Most women say that a sense of humor is important.” I asked.

“I don’t mind nutty, no.” she almost smiled.

“Ok then, write a poem about the ‘Object of your Desire’” I told her.

“Um, Now?” she asked.

“Yes, of course, now. This is your test.” I went back to grading more papers as Sally rummaged for a piece of paper in her enormous bag that I thought must contain everything needed for a third world disaster. Finally coming up with a rumpled sheet of paper and a pen she settled in and started writing. The pink tip of her tongue curled on her top lip as lines furrowed between her brows.

After about 20 minutes she handed the paper to me and looked at me strangely.

“It doesn’t rhyme.” She said looking down at the floor.

Not knowing what she wanted but curious about what this mouse of a woman could possibly know about desire, I started to read.

A dangerous game. “What if?”

I see you and you are unobtainable.

Do I want you because I can’t have you?

If I could, would you seem as beautiful?

Promises made to one I have sworn to love

And promises quietly broken.

Guilt eats at me and yet

Every time I see you, I want you more.

The back alleys of my mind

Are filled with images of you and me.

I hold you closely hidden

And close my mouth around you in ecstasy.

The sight of you tortures me.

The scent of you haunts me. The feel of you in my hands melts me

as it does you. The sounds you make kill me

And the flavor of you makes me glad of it.

My pulse races at the very sight of you.

I could have you. I know I could.

No one would ever know,

Except me.

A dangerous game, what if?

I sat, stunned. I looked at this small woman and wondered why the room was suddenly so warm. The collar of my shirt was tighter, and I found it difficult to breathe. I have always been good at words. It is my job to be and yet all I could manage was a sigh. Sally misunderstood its meaning and tried to apologize, mumbling something about a baby and teething and no sleep. She looked so ashamed. I wanted to reassure her but wondered how to reassure a married woman with children who wrote a poem about adultery. I was at a loss.

I finally stammered out “In your poem, the man…?”

She looked up suddenly and cocked her head to the side with one delicate eyebrow raised, “Man?”

Again I was paralyzed as a new wave of images formed in my mind.

“Who was this woman?” I thought and then replied as intelligently as I could’

“Uh…the man? In the poem”

Comprehension dawned on her and her laughter trickled over me in waves.

“Dr. Johnson? I recently had a new baby making me the mother of three. I have a good husband who loves me. I don’t have time to entertain another man.” she said, smiling.

“So, the object of your desire…? Promises made and broken…? Hiding? Imagination?” I sputtered.

She stood up smiling as she hoisted her bag onto her shoulder. “I am also on a diet. Dr. Johnson, the object of my desire is the chocolate bar on your top shelf.”

She left me sitting there, smiling with her and I shook my head as I went back to grading papers.

Should have been the first post

I have never 'blogged' before so this is all new to me. I like to write and while some of the things I write are good, some are also garbage. I can't usually tell the difference. So I am going to start posting some of the writings, thoughts, short stories etc. here and hope for some feedback and criticism to help me learn a better or new way to get my thoughts out there. Also, I am hoping to use this as a way for family and friends to keep up the what is going on in my family. I should name that section "The Good, The Bad and The Ugly".

At some point I hope to have pictures posted. I am very proud of my family and I hope that they will also contribute from time to time.

Life for the Tilton family is fairly good. It could always be better but then it could also get a whole lot worse so believe when I say that while stressed sometimes...I am not complaining.

There is a lot to learn here and I am a little excited to get started.

Victim of Identity Theft

My sister-in-law was telling me the other day about a radio show host who said something to the effect of “if I hear one more ‘stay at home mom’ complain about wanting to BE somebody, I am going to slap her.” As a stay at home mom, I can appreciate what he is saying and I thank him for his compliment, however, I don’t think he fully grasps what we mean when we say that phrase.
When a little girl is born, she is given a name to be added to her father’s name and in time, as she grows, the name becomes her own. This name has always been with her and it is who she is. Through school, activities, friends and so on, any accomplishment has her name on it. It is her identity.
Some girls have rotten childhoods and not many accomplishments are awarded so maybe to them, changing a name is not such a bad thing. It might even be the best thing for them. This was not the case with me.
I was born Sara Sanford Hooker. (Spare your jokes, I have heard them before and made a few of them up myself.) My family loved me and despite the jokes, my name has always been a source of pride for me. Sandy Hooker had gymnastics, baton lessons, high school band, numerous friends and a lot of good times. Sandy Hooker was a good person. She was average height, average build, and average looks with average intelligence. She was friendly, fun and had good friends. Because of the group of people surrounding her she grew up secure enough that negative peer pressure wasn’t as difficult for her as it was for some. I don’t know that she was as good a friend as she could have been but that was a lesson learned later.
Despite a happy childhood, Sandy Hooker met a man at age 18, fell in love and was married three months before turning 20, ignoring the lessons her parents had taught her about finishing school and living on her own for awhile.
I miss her.
Getting married at 19 with no real education or experience being on my own is a scary, stupid thing. I didn’t know that at the time and could not know it because I was ‘in L.O.V.E.’ I was married for three days before someone , not related to me referred to me as Mrs. Tilton. It was the desk clerk at a hotel in Savannah, GA while Ben and I were on our honeymoon. I don’t know what the difference is between family saying it and a total stranger but it was a profound moment for me. At that moment, Sandy Hooker started to fade away, I just didn’t know.
At church with Ben, I was known to many as Sister Ben. Throughout town, I was Mrs. Ben. Twenty years later, it isn’t as bad but it still happens from time to time. I just grit my teeth and smile. As years passed, Ben and I had children and I became Olivia’s or Kelly’s or Stephanie’s or Bradley’s or Sophie’s mom. Nicknames have been ‘Tilton’ or ‘Tilt’. I began to suspect my problem during my last pregnancy when I was asked to fill out a form and part of the form asked me about my likes and dislikes. Another part of the form asked me about my hobbies. After completing and reading it over, I noticed that they were all Ben’s likes and dislikes, all Ben’s hobbies. I couldn’t say whether or not they were my own.
During the pregnancy of my fifth child I realized I had ‘lost myself.’ A term I had often laughed at in the past. How is it a person loses themselves, I wondered. It isn’t like losing a child in the store, that much I know but panic sets in just as much.
I have often considered what life would be like if I had kept my maiden name or at the very least added it to Ben’s name with a hyphen. How would he have felt? Some men consider it a great honor to give their name to the woman they love. To share their name is to share their identity and a large part of who they are. It is a way to express love and let everyone know that the two are one now. However, would Ben have loved me enough to take the name “Hooker”? I am not so sure of that. He has brushed off my questions saying that that isn’t the way things are so quit asking but still, I wonder. How would he have felt if I had insisted on keeping it for myself? Would he have been insulted? More than likely, I think. Would he have felt differently if my name had been ‘Smith’? The world may never know.
Any accomplishment I have had since marriage has had my married name attached to it, as if because of marriage, my accomplishment is his also. This may be true but where is my name in his accomplishments? It is no where and it won’t ever be.
This is what I mean by identity theft. I don’t think by marrying me, Ben set out to do away with me. I think he married me with all noble intentions and still does not understand why I feel this way. I am tired of trying to find old friends and having little success because they are married now and have changed names. How many have tried to find me with no success?
My name is what it is now and that is because of a choice I made. I tell my kids all the time that ‘while a person has the right to choose their actions, they don’t have the right to choose the consequences.’ This is one of the lessons learned that as a teenager meant next to nothing but has had an impact on my adult life. Many of the choices made when I was young didn’t have any affect until years later but as a teenager, I couldn’t see past graduation. It is my hope that my kids will take more care and consideration when making choices.
Maybe my problem is really not identity theft, it is more like ‘identity misplacement.’ The hard part now is going out to find it. So, kids, pray and listen to your elders, we aren’t as dumb as we look; and above all remember who you are at all times so you don’t wake up in a few years not knowing.
Sara Sanford (Hooker) Tilton

The St. Johns River

Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings is quoted in her novel ‘Cross Creek’ saying, “Because I had known intimately a river, the earth pulsed under me”.
Unfortunately, not everyone is given the opportunity to travel the river by boat and know the ebbs and flows intimately; but to be near the flowing water and listen to the calls of distant birds or watch the heron take flight or witness the bald eagle swoop down to grab an unsuspecting fish and glide away to her nest; to spy an alligator as he surfaces or see turtles tumble from fallen limbs where they have been sunning themselves or to be able to catch a rare glimpse of a manatee as she and her calf swim lazily to the side of the boat and roll to have their bellies rubbed are experiences that I and my family have had because we have been blessed to live near the St. Johns River.
One does not need to own a boat or live on the river to appreciate its beauty and dignity. It is a part of us all. Whether a person realizes it or not, the calming effect of the river’s current is crucial to all of us. Just crossing the bridge and seeing the ever flowing, continuance of this ancient river is reassuring to me that although times are changing and progress never ends, the St. Johns river is one thing that stays consistent.
When my daughter Kelly was two years old she played a game with our family that we still catch ourselves playing from time to time, even now. When crossing from East Palatka into town, she would announce “It’s a BEAUTIFUL river today!” It didn’t matter if it was glassy or white capped, to her it was always beautiful. We then knew we had one mile to try and name all that could be found in the river. Bass, alligators, turtles, moccasins, manatees, arrowheads, sunken boats, and bones generally topped the list followed by sharks, whales and mermaids.
George Sand wrote, in “La Mare au Diable”: “Nature possesses the secret of happiness and no one has been able to steal it from her”. In the past few years we have had opportunities to go out on the river, whether by boating with friends or in my daughter Stephanie’s case, fishing with the Junior Angler’s Bass Club. It was Stephanie who, while fishing one morning found herself and her fishing partners surrounded by a family of manatee who would rub themselves up against the boat and roll over to be scratched. We have so many happy memories in the St. Johns and our love of the river has increased because we are able to see it up close and be a part of it. It is my hope that my children and my children’s children will also have the opportunity to fall in love with the natural beauty of the St. Johns, to feel the earth pulse underneath their feet and to one day hear sweet voices declaring “it’s a BEAUTIFUL river today”.