Category parenting

Gettysburg, Day 2

Angel Ackerman Leave a comment

We all slept longer than we expected to after our first day in Gettysburg. So much I wanted to do, yet we couldn’t even arrive at breakfast until close to 8:30. Luckily, our hotel was less than a half a mile from the start point of Gettysburg Walk #2 (hosted by the York White Rose Wanderers). My plan was this: continental breakfast at the hotel, 5k battlefield/monument trail, water and snack break, then the 5k town trail, have lunch in town, head to the confederate trail and do one of the 5k out-and-back trails before heading home.  
The continental breakfast at the hotel featured plenty of bread, oatmeal, cereal, orange juice and coffee as expected but did not have any pitchers of water. So we left breakfast, in my opinion, not hydrated enough. 

   
 We set out for the walk, and before even going a mile we were sidetracked by the various monuments, Pickett’s Charge and of course, the Pennsylvania monument which we had to climb. 

  
  
This boulder came from the school yard in Massachusetts where the soldier who died has went to school.

  
The walk wound through some wooded areas and down to the visitors center, where we gulped our weight in water at the fountains.

  
We also learned about the gear the Union soldiers carried, like the half tent, and how the guns worked.

   
 Somehow, we managed to make the 5k into 5 miles by the time we made it to the hotel. It was 11 a.m. and check out was noon. The family begged for a dip in the pool. I gave them a half hour to swim while I repacked the bags that were dumped out to find the already packed bathing suits. I also uploaded my photos and had a snack. Everyone dressed again, we checked out, and we drove to the National Cemetery parking area for the town trail. 

At the Rupp Center we learned about spinning wool and the differences between wool and cotton fibers.

  
We had a great time perusing shops, had lunch at The Pub which we had missed the day before. Amazing burgers. Mine had blue cheese and chocolate chips. Yes, you read that correctly, blue cheese and chocolate chips. Which was funny because on Wednesday I had a funky burger at Twin Rivers Brewing Company that had peanut butter and bacon. Both blew my mind.

   
 We had reached about 4 miles at this point, and we backtracked to visit the malt shop. I have a weakness for a good malted milkshake. And this was very worth it. 

  
We had already surpassed 9 miles for the day by the time we reached the car. My daughter was stuffed with too much burger and milkshake. We drove out to the confederate trails. More unbelievably pretty monuments. Some so lifelike they were eerie. We trudged out of the car, all very tired at this point, and did our best to complete the 5k trail that left from the amphitheater. 

We all came home exhausted. Good news is that my daughter finished her AVA 10 event book. Husband is the only one left who hasn’t reached that milestone.

  
The moral of the story: You need three days in Gettysburg, not two.

Barnegat Adventure

Angel Ackerman 1 Comment

  

My schedule suddenly opened up for a Monday— no plans for child or myself. The weekend had passed normally, which meant some of it was fun and some of it involved pre-puberty meltdowns every five minutes from my tormented eleven year old. My husband had to work, as usual, on Monday and I wanted to do *something* that would keep the child and I occupied. Preferably fun.
So, over my cup of coffee with my husband in the wee hours, I searched the AVA web site from my phone. We’re members of AVA—American Volkssporting Association, a group that sponsors self-guided walking tours of various points of interest— and our closest thing to a local chapter (Liberty Bell Wanderers).

I found walks in communities anywhere from an hour to three hours away, some in the mountains, one in Hershey, another in Lancaster, history-commemorating walks in Philadelphia, and many in New Jersey, including the shore points.

At 7 a.m., I roused the child and told her if she wanted to take a road trip and do a Volkssport Walk she needed to rise and shine. I consider volkssporting educational (reading maps, following directions, filling out paperwork, and learning about new places) and a good source of exercise since I push for the 10K walk whenever possible. Anything to keep the family moving. In my daughter’s mind, volkssporting means an interesting day, usually with a meal in a restaurant, and the chance to buy drinks at convenience stores. 

In other words, a win-win. 

I let her pick the destination. This avoids the pouting that eventually happens if “we always do what Mommy wants to do.” The first part of the equation was to narrow down the distance she wanted to travel. She told me she was willing to drive as far as D.C. That pretty much meant anything I might be willing to drive. I thought she’d want to stay a little close to home. But no. She is an adventurer at heart.

She picked Barnegat Lighthouse on Long Beach Island. The fact that she selected a beach did not surprise me, but it did somewhat surprise me that she picked Barnegat when I had offered shore points much closer to home. She opted for the 135 mile car ride. 

We didn’t set out until 7:50 a.m., and we had to stop for gas so I suppose our true start time was 8:10 a.m. We hit a bit of a travel snarl on 78E, which could be anticipated at such an hour on a Monday. It kept moving and we only “lost” about ten minutes. We hooked up with 287 and headed down to the Garden State Parkway, making our only potty stop at the Cheesequake Travel Plaza. Having never visited before, we didn’t realize there was a commuter lot and ended up parking— no exaggeration, I clocked it on FitBit— a half mile from the building. Honestly, after the first leg of our journey, the walk felt good.

We arrived on Long Beach Island about 10:30ish. We drove down the island for what felt like forever. Passing beach upon beach was like a tour in itself, like an endless array of possibilities. My daughter turned out to be an excellent navigator. 

We arrived at Kubel’s Restaurant at 11:07 a.m. The restaurant had the official walk box. It didn’t open until noon, but we didn’t exactly know that. We couldn’t find any info on the door or online so we decided to walk out to the lighthouse because the official walk had to pass the lighthouse. 

It was at this point that I realized I didn’t have my ATM card. This shouldn’t have been a shock as I never carry my ATM card. But usually I am with my husband who has his ATM card. And we were in a tourist area, heavily cash-based. I had something like $29 in toll money left and an additional $9 in our walking binder. I knew, if we climbed the lighthouse, I wanted to reward my daughter with the $15 t-shirt that required cash. 

After a quick tour of the area around the lighthouse onto the jetty and back. We happened upon a man fishing at the exact moment he caught a fish. We watched him unhook the fish and toss it back because it was too small. (We also saw a man with a prosthetic leg.)

  
This allowed us to see how much admission to the lighthouse would be. We stopped at the visitor’s center to use the bathroom and meandered back to Kubel’s as we were starved and thirsty.

We arrived at 12:01, got the walk box and a table and had the most amazing mac and cheese ever, baked lobster mac and cheese.

  
 It featured those thick spiral noodles with gooey cheese and a crisp top, with some grated cheese on that, and the innards had peas, cherry tomatoes and get this— diced tiny green beans. Delightful. Truly.

  
We decided to do the 10K. Our adventure took us to see the boats at the High Bar Harbor yacht club. 

   
 We deviated from the path to enjoy a 1/2 mile walk along the tip of the Atlantic Ocean, then back to the main drag. 

  
At some point we stopped at White’s Market for cold drinks. I even let the child have a black cherry Stewarts. The lady in the market gave us a paper with favorite things to do on it, and I have to say, the list tempts me to return. It’s an awesome list.

  
We also stopped at the post office to mail our start cards to the Princeton Area Walkers. 

  
We finished the day with a climb to the top of the lighthouse. 

  
After walking about 8 miles before the 217 step staircase, I have to admit my thighs protested heavily at the bottom. Might be the first time I ever had thigh cramps. They still ache a bit today.

   
 The day was fabulous and I didn’t even get that much sunburn.

  

And we’re walking

Angel Ackerman 1 Comment

Since my trip to Niagara Falls with the Liberty Bell Wanderers, my family has joined me as official members of that group and the American Volkssporting Association. With their help, I recently finished my initial 10-event book and will now have my own walker number.

I am thrilled with this activity. Volkssporting is non-competitive walking or bike riding, typically for 5k or 10k distances, though sometimes 6k or 15k. The local group that sponsors the walk will have a start location posted on the AVA website. At that location, usually a hotel or a YMCA because of the flexible hours of the facility, there will be a “start” or “walk box.”

In the walk box, there’s a registration form, a start card and a stamp. You fill out the registration form, stamp your book(s), and fill out a start card. Also in the box are directions and envelopes. The envelope allows you to mail your completed start card and payment to the walk administrator (otherwise known as point of contact.)

From there, it’s like a walking tour/scavenger hunt. I usually ask my 11-year-old to read the directions and the map because it’s a good skill for her to practice.

We have recently done North and South Bethlehem, New Hope PA/Lambertville NJ, and Doylestown, PA.
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In Bethlehem, we visited the grave of poet HD.

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In Doylestown, we hob-knobbed with the history.

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Apparently, Doylestown has concrete castles similar to the Edison-inspired concrete house neighborhood in Phillipsburg NJ.

New Hope had lots of artsy views.

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Not to mention a mansion that could have belonged to one of my husband’s relatives…

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But Lambertville NJ had the most amazing falafel and kufta…

My daughter, who’s struggling to transition from her active elementary school years to a more sedentary middle school life, is outside again and moving so that makes me happy. My husband likes to walk and likes our adventurous day trips. I am so thankful for such a fun family activity.

And unlike bowling, it doesn’t require heavy equipment or ugly shoes.

Day Trip to Hershey

Angel Ackerman Leave a comment

I woke up yesterday frustrated by the freshly fallen snow that had ruined my plans to get out the bikes— daughter has a new bike, a grown-up bike, that she received for Christmas from her grandparents— and go for a long, first-ride-of-spring trip down the rail-to-trail path. 

I didn’t have to work, and that only happens rarely on the weekends, so I wanted to do something with my family. My daughter suggested watching a movie. I wanted something better than sitting on the couch. 

So, at noon yesterday, we hopped in the car and headed to Hershey. I last visited Hershey circa 1991. While I can technically say “I’ve been to Hershey before,” it has changed. It’s crazy amazing now. I think I stumbled upon the right age to take a child, since my daughter is ten-and-a-half and a full-fledged preteen know-it-all. Hershey reverted her to a spastic young ‘un full of wide-eyed awe. 

I had done a quick web search from my phone as we were walking to the car. I knew there were multiple attractions of multiple prices ranging from free to $14.95 per person. I also knew Hersheypark was not yet open for the season. Roller coasters would have to wait for another day (and a bigger budget). It’s a nice 90 minute drive from our home to Hershey. I also viewed this as a way to practice spontaneity. 

I’m very fortunate in a way. My mother is very frugal, knows how to budget, pays off her credit cards every month, and hides a little bit of cash somewhere for a rainy day. My father has a somewhat looser attitude towards money. He spends more generously than my mother, buys a lot of motorcycles and never balances his checkbook. I ended up a healthy blend of the two. I budget. I pay my credit cards every month. I also tend to spend when the occasion calls for it. Like on a good suit. Or, in this case, a family day trip.

We didn’t arrive at Hershey Chocolate World until 2 p.m. They close at 6 p.m. This meant we couldn’t do everything. (And honestly this kept the expense down AND the level of saying “no.”) We worked with the staff member at the ticket desk and booked the Trolley Works tour of Hershey ($14.95/adult; $10.95 child) and the Create-Your-Own-Chocolate-Bar ($14.95/person). 

To be honest, I insisted we do the Create-Your-Own-Chocolate-Bar. My husband and daughter seemed to pick the trolley. The other options were cheaper, the 4D mystery show and the Chocolate Tasting. My daughter originally suggested that, but the staff member pointed out that it was primarily a lecture with a lot of samples of dark chocolate from around the world. I was drooling, but chocolate school did not appeal to her. The staff member was very adapt at timing things so we could move from place to place without rushing but didn’t have too much free time.

I reminded my daughter that this is why she needed to be thankful that she didn’t have siblings because at these prices with more than one child I couldn’t afford to leave the house. 

  

I insisted we do the Chocolate Tour first. The Chocolate Tour is free, and though I don’t remember singing cows, it is the only part of Hershey Chocolate World that I remember existing from my other visit. The ride itself is like a Tilt-A-Whirl used as a transport device (without the spinning) that explains how Hershey makes chocolate. I thought my preteen would fine this lame. She adored it. We had to ride it twice. (I did make her wait until the end of the day for the second go.)

The trolley tour was an hour and fifteen minutes. I think the child lost interest after about 45. The history is extremely well done and the tour guides appropriately funny. Every time I started to get bored, they passed out chocolate samples. You eat a lot of free chocolate at Hershey.

  

The trolley tour chocolate samples started with Lancaster Caramels, what Milton Hershey made before chocolate, moved to Hershey Kisses, then flavored Hershey Kisses, then Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups. When we disembarked, we received a full-sized Hershey Bar.

 

But, from a child’s perspective, I imagine the Create-Your-Own-Chocolate-Bar topped everything. They coded your name into your ticket, gave you a paper apron and hat, and sent you to some touch screens to select your options. First the chocolate innards: milk, white or dark chocolate. Then, up to three add-ins: crisped rice, toffee, pretzels, cookies, chocolate chips or butterscotch chips. Finally, whether or not you wanted sprinkles on top. From there, you went into the mini-factory. 

  

You scanned your ticket and pushed a button and your bar was placed on the production line. A screen displayed your name every time your bar reached that part of the process and you watched your bar receive its guts, its chocolate coating, everything. Eventually, it slid into a chute where a machine inserted it into a box and laser-printed your name on the side of the box. 

  

While it cooled and hardened, you designed the package. It was printed and a staff member boxed your bar in a Hershey tin and used your package as the outer sleeve. 

  

We ate a portion of our bars for breakfast today. We hope to make a summer trip to Hershey. 

Back to School shopping

Angel Ackerman Leave a comment

My daughter enters the fifth grade tomorrow. In her district, this involves moving to a new school and riding the bus with the big kids. I have never really taken her back-to-school shopping. Instead, I quietly purchase the necessities and her grandmother buys her an outfit or two and that’s the end of it.

Not this year.

She’s older so I thought I’d make back-to-school shopping a lesson in how to handle money. We started by taking $200 out of her savings account. I had already purchased the sneakers, jeans, new coat, backpack and school supplies required. We also had cleaned her drawers, sorting everything by size and removing the items that were too small, soon to be too small or just not her style any more. Those will be passed on to another child.

At the bank, she filled out her own withdrawal slip and we headed to the counter where the teller asked her how she preferred her money. She left with an envelope of mixed bills. We kept the receipt so she could keep that inside the envelope and track her purchases. I took a “mommy” envelope for the times where she would need me to pay with my credit card.

She made a list of items she wanted. With our list in hand (and eventually forgotten in her wallet) we went to the thrift store. The thrift store I frequent is a little… shady. I told my daughter not to bother trying anything on, that we’d buy it, wash it, and then try it. If it didn’t fit, we’d donate it away. We arrived during 65% hour.

We found a pair of Ralph Lauren corduroys, skinny style, with snaps at the ankles. We found two tank tops with the built-in shelf bras. We found a camouflage tank top and a polka dot long sleeve shirt. By far, her favorite discovery was the black cropped sweatshirt, zipper down with a hood, covered with Muppet style fuzz. Total spent: $8

Next, we headed to Target. Since I work at Target, we have my employee discount plus an additional 5% off if we use my RedCard. Hence, the Mommy envelope. And this particular sales week had $5 off a $20 Target brand underwear purchase. We bought two bras, ten pairs of underwear, four pairs of socks, and a pair of buckle laden black ankle boots. Total spent: $50.

After Target, we went to the mall. I have a Gap visa which I opened one year when I wanted to buy the child a coat. The extra percentage off made the deal sweeter. This summer, the financial company offered 10X reward points on purchases outside the Gap. So, when typically it requires $1,000 in purchases for a $10 Gap gift card, this promotion meant you received a $10 gift card with only $100 in purchases. I “earned” $50 in gift cards for making the Gap card my primary card for the summer (which I pay off in full every time the bill arrives).

My daughter found a cropped sweater, a cropped red zipper down sweatshirt and a sweatshirt dress with pocket in the front. She paid $9. I put it on my Gap card and she gave me the cash for the Mommy envelope.

Now a Mommy-daughter shopping trip is never complete without lunch. Child wanted wings. She loves chicken wings on the bone. Her first thought was Buffalo Wild Wings. But after consideration, she decided on the pub near our house. I’m sure Shruty’s Pub appreciates that she chose to support the local, family-owned business.

Our final stop was The Crossings Premium Outlets. I explained to dear daughter that her money wouldn’t go nearly as far here. Her first stop was Charlotte Russe. She bought two shirts for $23. Then we visited Forever 21. She found a leopard print skirt, a nice blouse, and an umbrella for $38.

“Mommy,” she said, “this place really does eat your money.”

She had grown tired at this point. But she really wanted shoes. Women’s shoes. We went to one outlet and it was athletic shoes which didn’t interest her. We had several shoes stores lined up in front of us: Merrill, Easy Spirit and Bass among them. But those are all sensible shoes. The one at the end of the row interested me most and I knew it would appeal to her too. Nine West. We entered and I think my daughter found nirvana.

Now, my daughter is ten. She wanted some heels. She can’t wear heels to school, and she’s spending her own money, so I don’t want to tell her what to buy. I allowed her to pick out one pair of ridiculous sparkly strappy shoes. She wanted two. One pair was platform. She didn’t keep those. She decided on a beaded pink pair and a pair of leopard pumps. She spent $45.

The depletion of her envelope made her visibly sad. She opted to stop shopping and bring home the remaining few dollars.

I asked if she understood why we shopped in the order we did.

“What would have happened if we came here first?” I asked.

“I would have spent all my money,” she said.

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Reflections on Camp Mosey Wood

Angel Ackerman 3 Comments

Yesterday, Camp Mosey Wood celebrated its 75th Anniversary. Camp Mosey Wood is one of the remaining Girl Scout camps belonging to Girl Scouts of Eastern Pennsylvania, tracing its roots to the Lehigh County Girl Scouts, Bethlehem Steel and the mother of a “mature Girl Scout” who happens to share a mutual acquaintance with me.

I registered because I thought it would be nice to spend the day with my daughter at the same camp where she does her summer resident camp every year. She’s ten years old now, and we calculated that she’s done four summer sessions (one half week program, one “Baker’s Bunch” themed week, one “detective” week, and this year geocaching which ended a mere two weeks ago) and two winter sessions.

I attended camp Mosey Wood several times as a child, various weekends with my local troop including one in the winter where I clearly remember my adventures cross country skiing. I never had the opportunity to attend summer resident camp, and part of me always wondered what magic happens there.

Yesterday, I experienced a glimpse of it. The day surpassed my every expectation and like any good Girl Scout program it pushed me past my expectations. I am overwhelmed, proud and exhausted today as I think about the memories my daughter and I made.

Four of us arrived together for the day program. We carpooled with the daughter of one of the camp founders, camp name Bunny, and our mutual acquaintance. Bunny’s daughter is now near approaching seventy-five years old herself as her mother worked for the Girl Scouts before marrying. She stayed at the dining hall and the central green for most of the day, visiting with old friends and making new ones.

That left my friend, my daughter and I to have our camp adventures. Somewhere around ten a.m. we had already reached the archery course. My daughter worked with the actual archery instructor to make sure we knew exactly what we were doing. We all hit the targets! I forget exactly where mine landed but photos shall come…

What happened next is the usual conglomeration of crafts, tie-dye (my first time!), hiking, boating, eating, dining hall games… All items that gave me a glimpse into the life my daughter has when she’s at Girl Scout camp. Who can resist picking fresh wild blueberries off the bushes? Who can’t help but feel inspired by hiking paths created for gold projects? Who wouldn’t get excited by the prospect of a NEW ZIP LINE across the LAKE!

I watched in awe of my daughter as she kept checking on the older people, bringing Bunny’s daughter blueberries and helping them from place to place. I had never seen my tween so kind, considerate and empathetic.

I watched in awe of my daughter on the “s’up” board (stand-up paddle board). My friend and I struggled with a rowboat like a couple of drunken sailors as she zipped by us on her board, reaching the far side of the lake. When she eventually headed to shore, she ended up helping others get started because we were still in the middle of the lake spinning in circles… When we docked, I stood there and listened.

I suddenly knew I had to put on the bathing suit that hadn’t seen the light of day in eight years and go paddle boarding with her. I said as much to my friend and she replied, “Go ahead, if you want to.” And I didn’t want to, as much as my maternal instincts said this was a moment to share something with her that had nothing to do with what I wanted.

I changed, put on borrowed “lake shoes,” handed over my glasses and followed my daughter into the water. If you know me, you know I have balance issues thanks to cerebral palsy and my legs aren’t always reliable. Well, here I was, out on a lake, my daughter racing and gleefully barking orders. I can’t see. My depth perception is off. Kayaks, other paddle boarders, and rowboats surround me. I manage. I enjoy it. But in the end, I fell off (in part because my paddle was not adjusted to my height and because I never learned to use my paddle as a “third leg” for balance). That yoga has paid off because I did balance, but the line at the shore for the boards was getting longer so I headed to the dock. But I did it!

As soon as we got out of the water, my daughter threw clothes over her wet bathing suit and ran to the climbing wall. I watched in awe of my daughter on the climbing wall (and later the high ropes). My daughter climbed each of the three walls, the harder ones multiple times. I made it up the first two difficulties, no small task but again when I lacked in grace and coordination I compensated for with sheer stubborn will power. This was not enough for my petite thrill seeker so we headed to the high ropes course.

I have no idea why I ever thought high ropes would be something I should do. I did it. It was grueling in spots, but I never even stopped to catch my breath. I decided it would be easier to barrel forward than to stop and think about what we were doing. My daughter went first. I went second. When I reached the final platform when you jump, I looked to her on the ground. I reminded her that this was what Girl Scouts was about, pushing yourself and proving you could do it. And I jumped. I became a human piñata as the staff batted my ankles to stop me and put me on the ladder.

I laughed at my daughter as she bolted after grace from our spot in the back of the dining hall to the kitchen, performing her duty as hopper with the utmost efficiency and speed. She may have even gained a bit of a reputation for her skills.

At the end of the day, when my daughter had grown moody with disappointment that we couldn’t keep doing activities indefinitely, she turned to me and said, “Mom, I’m pretty sure you did at least three activities outside your comfort zone.”

I asked her to tell me which ones. She listed the “s’up boards,” the climbing wall and the ropes. She was very right. Maybe I inspired her as much as she inspired me.

The whole day reminded me why Girl Scouts means so much to me. I see my daughter meeting challenges and interacting with others of multiple generations and I can’t help but cry.

I spent a great deal of my youth being told what I could and couldn’t do and being teased for my limp and physical difference. I was about my daughter’s age when my junior Girl Scout leader saw me standing at the railing at our roller skating event. I didn’t have skates and I probably looked forlorn leaning on the edge of the rink. She asked me why I didn’t have skates.

I said I couldn’t skate. That I had never skated because of my legs.

I don’t remember exactly how it happened, but I know within a few minutes I had my rental skates and I was now clinging to the same wall from the other side because I had wheels on my feet. I imagine some adult must have held my hand and coaxed me out, because eventually I hugged the wall and made a lap of the rink. I spent most of my time “practicing” on the carpeted area where people put on their skates. But I had roller skates! And I hadn’t broken my neck!

My daughter may never know half my struggles, but thanks to Girl Scouts, she can learn the same lessons.

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Spiral shaft fracture of the fifth metacarpal

Angel Ackerman Leave a comment

My upcoming trip to Djibouti may create an image of me as a brave, intrepid adventurer. In reality, I’m a former journalist who has used the changing media landscape to explore what I’d really like to do with my life. I have a really practical part-time job working for a great corporation with some of the most interesting and genuine people I have ever met. This has allowed me to return to school and earn a second bachelor’s degree, do a virtual internship with USAID, spend more time with my daughter and serve on boards in the community. And travel.

So, Monday should have been the day that I prepared my visa application materials for transit to D.C. but a funny thing happened at work. I broke my right hand and yes, I’m right hand dominant. Less than four weeks out from my exotic dream voyage and I broke my hand. Specifically, I sustained a [rather fortunate under the circumstances] spiral shaft fracture of my fifth metacarpal.

Sparing the exciting details of my first 24 hours with a broken bone, most of which were spent waiting for an ortho appointment, let’s say that my package got out today and I have a nice red cast. I have mentioned my upcoming out-of-country travel to my medical team. On April 15, they will remove my cast and place me in a removable splint of some kind based on the rate of healing. My traveling companion has expressed his relief.

When my hand heals more, I shall devote a blog entry to “life imitates art” and how my fiction tends to draw weird coincidences into my life. I think my imaginary friends and I share karma. When Basilie got pregnant, I got pregnant a few months later. She had a stroke a few months ago, and she lost the use of her right hand. From here on out, only goodness for Basilie. I’d share some of the stuff I’ve already written about Basilie, but I am very clumsy with my left hand only on the keyboard. It has taken forever to type this.

Remember all that time I dedicated to finding a journal for my trip? I used Facebook to poll my friends about the final three candidates and now… here’s hoping I can write in it when I travel.

Let me leave you will this… My daughter has been obsessed with broken bones since she saw the episode of the Waltons where Elizabeth fell off the wood pile and broke her legs. Needless to say, this process has fascinated her and the medical staff has allowed her to come with me for most of my treatment. I’ll share a photo she took while I got my cast.

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Our region has suffered from an average of two snow storms a week and temperatures below freezing for extended periods of time. My daughter, her friend and I walk to school everyday and today I took my phone. I wanted to snap some casual photos.

While wearing two coats, a scarf, a hat, a hood and gloves, it’s hard to motivate oneself to unveil a hand and take photos.

But I did.

My daughter had positioned this chair under some frozen ivy so she could play with the icicles. Unbeknownst to her, the melting ivy created new icicles on her chair.

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Icy Chair

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My daughter saying farewell

My daughter saying farewell

I apologize if this image offends anyone. But I find it beautiful and I wanted to share.

My husband’s 94-year-old grandmother died last week after a long battle with cancer. For the first year-and-a-half she did well, a round of radiation with my mother-in-law as her live-in caregiver and nurse. After her birthday this year (July 4), she retired to her bed and did not leave her bedroom again.

With the help of hospice nurses, my mother-in-law cared for her as if she were a newborn baby. I wish I could say it was peaceful as her obituary claimed, but the last two weeks were not. I will spare the gruesome details and say only that I now understand how zombie legends started. Apparently, my grandmother-in-law’s heart kept going even when her body had begun serious decomposition.

Nana died at home. This was the third and final great-grandparent that my daughter had. The first passed away when she was five or so and we brought her to the viewing with one brief glance into the casket. The second followed a year or two later, and this time my daughter heard more about the choices that had to be made about end of life care and “pulling the plug.”

This time, my daughter, at nine, helped care for her dying great grandmother and attended the whole funeral– riding in the limo with her grandparents, attending the whole viewing and funeral, and even going graveside. (My daughter sat beside the grave with her grandparents and boisterously asked, “Are they going to drop her into that hole?” The pastor laughed.)

My mother-in-law had asked for three pink roses tucked into Nana’s hand– one for each of her three great-grandchildren (all girls, the other two are in their twenties). The funeral director knew Nana well and slipped a peppermint into her fingers as he remembered her always having a hard candy to share.

I found so much beauty in that day. The sun-drenched October day turned out perfect, sandwiched between cold, rainy days. My daughter did such sweet things, like helping her aunt arrange the blankets around Nana before they closed the casket.

But this photo summarizes it for me: My darling baby, kneeling before her great-grandmother for a farewell, using those quiet moments before the public calling hours. Yes, you can see the body, but it’s almost indistinguishable. Bathed in light with color from the flowers. It was a peaceful moment.

Photography: A Child Says Adieu (Nana’s funeral, 2013)

Angel Ackerman 1 Comment

Column: Halloween requires vampire TV (2006)

Angel Ackerman Leave a comment

The paranormal has certainly blossomed in the mainstream during the last seven years. Spurred by the Twilight series and somehow morphing to Fifty Shades of Grey, there seems a bevy of options for fans of the supernatural. Pop culture always has monsters to offer society, whether you look at the classic fiction of the nineteenth century (Frankenstein and Dracula among them) or the mid-twentieth century soap opera Dark Shadows or Anne Rice’s successful franchising of her vampire chronicles and Mayfair witches.

As a mom and someone rapidly approaching 40, I have reached the out-of-touch generation. I’m still stuck in the era of Buffy and Angel, when YA wasn’t even a genre let alone an attraction for adults. I love some Harry Potter, but Bella and Edward make me cringe. And the best thing about Fifty Shades? Certainly not the writing or the sex scenes, but instead I’m excited that erotica is getting some attention from the mainstream. I never thought I’d see the day where erotica hit the shelves at Target.

I always loved vampires as a youngster. Vampires offer an examination of our individual struggles of good vs. evil in our own souls, a close look at the struggles of addiction, and an exploration of personality and the tendency to dominate or submit. The older I get the more I embrace more monsters: the witches who challenge their own power and their place in the universe, the werewolf who has to keep his animal under control, the psychic who must decide what to tell people and what to keep secret.

These are the themes the intrigue me as a writer and why I write paranormal fiction in my free time. I have three finished paranormal manuscripts and I am currently revising the second book in the series. I hope to revise my synopsis and get pitching to agents and editors again but that’s a topic for another day.

Today’s nugget (that spurred this whole blog entry) is an entertainment column I wrote about family friendly vampire television shows available in 2006.

vampire TV