Hard Choices

I grew up in West Virginia, which owes its birth to the schism of the Civil War.  Folks in western Virginia were isolated from the east by the mountains and fortunately lacked an agricultural base reliant on slaves.  As a result, they had little in common with their parent state, the heart of the Confederacy.   In order to remain loyal to the Union (and using some Constitutional sleight of hand), West Virginia petitioned the Congress to become a separate, free state.  The petition was granted and West Virginia entered the Union in 1863.  The first governor called West Virginia "a child of the rebellion."  (http://www.wvculture.org/history/statehood/statehood16.html).  No description could have been more apt.

Regardless of the majority of its citizens who wanted to remain in the Union, West Virginia was a border state.  I grew up on old stories about families ripped apart by disagreements between parents and children, brother and brother, even husband and wife.  I recall the movie Shenandoah, which told the vivid story of one such family.  Yankee or Confederate was a very real and often painful choice for many families.

We don't think much about how the American Revolution might have had similar effects on families.  Our history doesn't teach us about it, and I don't know of a single movie to deal with the subject.  Yet, those wrenching choices must have occurred and, apparently, my ancestors were more than a little affected.

To date, I have uncovered two official Sons of the American Revolution and three confirmed United Empire Loyalists among my ancestors.  The Sons fought for the "patriots" against the British; the Loyalists fought (or, in one case, fifed) with the British.  It is plausible that they fought each other.

Peter is one of the best known of the Loyalists.  Although he started out as a member of a committee of correspondence in Albany, New York, he argued for conciliation and neutrality.  Ultimately, he was labelled a Tory and jailed, and his property, including his house and at least 600 acres, was confiscated.  Once his choice was made, Peter served with Burgoyne (helping evacuate the wounded to Canada after the loss at Saratoga), Sir Henry Clinton, and Abraham Cuyler's Corps on Long Island.  After the British surrender in 1783, Peter led a band of more than 180 men, women, and children to Quebec, and he is recognized among the pioneer founders of Adolphustown, which is now in Ontario.

Abraham is a Son of the American Revolution, who held the rank of Colonel in the 7th Regiment of the Albany County Militia.

William is a Son of the American Revolution who served as a private in the 8th Regiment of the Albany County Militia.

Jacobus (James) and his wife Lydia are also Loyalists from New York.  He served with the British, and his teenage son Lambert was a fifer.

The fathers of Abraham and Peter were brothers.

The grandfathers of Peter, Abraham, William, and Jacobus were all brothers.

They all shared the same great grandfather.


Peter <== Alexander (Sander) <== Abraham Janse <== Jan Martense

Abraham <== Isaac <== Abraham Janse <== Jan Martense

William <== Thomas <== Lambert Janse <== Jan Martense

Jacobus <== Lammert <== Isaac Janse <== Jan Martense


Today, I wonder:  What must those choices have been like?  Regardless of the side they finally chose, what losses did they incur?

Peter's wife died that first year after arriving in Canada.  Jacobus died before the war was even over.  What was it like for Peter and Lydia to face starting over again, each with their several children, but this time without their spouses and in a wilderness?

A footnote:  Jan Martense, Abraham Janse, and Lambert Janse were all immigrants.  Jan Martense chose to resettle his family from the Netherlands to New Amsterdam in the 1650s.  Perhaps this "starting over" thing also lives in our DNA.

History from a Different Perspective

Identity. For some, the concept is simple. For me, because of the accident of my birth, identity has long been complex and circuitous.

Judy Ball, daughter of Clyde and Nellie. Judy Ball, descendant of Shirley, daughter of Dorothy and John.

Clyde and Nellie, you see, adopted me.  At birth.  Brought me home from the hospital.  My mother, who had not one sentimental bone, kept the hospital bill and payment receipts.  I have never had a single question about who my parents were:  Clyde and Nellie.

But ancestors are another thing entirely.  My concept of ancestors does not track with the ancestors of Clyde and Nellie.  Perhaps this is because of their lack of connection to families of origin.  Perhaps there is some other reason.

As a child, I had a difficult time sorting out whether I was American or Canadian.  My birth mother, Shirley, was Canadian.  Why wasn't I Canadian, I would ask?  No one ever gave me the legal answer: you are American because you were born in the USA.  On my first visit to Canada (I was in my thirties), I had an unusual sense of coming home.

Now, thanks to the miracles of Internet technology, DNA testing, an LDS family history center, and genealogical websites such as ancestry.com, I have been able to take a self indulgent virtual journey to meet my ancestors.

I have learned that my DNA reads plain vanilla, 58% western Europe (the boundaries have changed too often over time to be more specific) and 39% Irish.  Western Europe, in my case, is the Netherlands.  I've found ancestors all the way back to the 16th century in the Netherlands, and then they emigrated to New Amsterdam or New York.  How cool is that?

I have also found proof among my own ancestors of how history is indeed written by the victors.

American history teaches us about revolutionary "patriots" who fought for "liberty" and "freedom" while "tories" remained loyal to a tyrannical king.

There is a different story to be told.

My ancestors include "loyalists" who had their property seized (without due process), were tormented and jailed because of their beliefs (no free expression permitted), and ultimately were forced to flee their homes in New York in search of sanctuary in Canada.  Loyalty and dedication to principle runs deeply in my DNA.  This makes me proud.

The loyalists formed a large and important core of pioneers that founded what is now southern Ontario and Quebec.  Their ethos, which favored evolution over revolution, helped make Canada the largely admirable nation it is today.

The US, on the other hand, was born in war:  civil war, if you call a spade a spade.  It tried and failed to resolve its internal differences, which led inevitably to another civil war.  And now the US continues to be divided, largely over the same issues, and violence is as much a part of US culture as hot dogs and baseball.  Even our national anthem is a paean about war.

Isn't it interesting to look at history from a different perspective?

Why Are We Shocked?

It is just days after the latest horrific, peculiarly-American, domestic massacre. This time it was a theatre in Colorado. Once again, we all act shocked. But why?

I am not shocked by the latest grisly massacre of innocents by an individual with an arsenal of guns. Why should I be? We Americans refuse to do anything to stop it, or even to limit it, so why should we be shocked? After all, it happens again ... and again ... and again ... and again ... and we do nothing to stop it.

Doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result. Isn't that the colloquial definition of insanity?

I cannot believe that most people in this country want another massacre like Colorado, Columbine, Virginia Tech, etc. Yet, we let our silence rule. We let the NRA and the so-called supporters of the Constitution's Second Amendment call the shots, both literally and figuratively. We make excuses: the shooter was deranged, mentally ill. As though that is an explanation for his having free access to an arsenal. >Some even prescribe more guns as the antidote!

The First Amendment, the most important one, has limits, according to the Supreme Court and the other branches of government.  Then, why is the Second one sacrosanct? Do you even know what the Second says? Here it is:

Amendment Two. A well regulated militia, being necessary to the security of a free state, the right of the people to keep and bear arms, shall not be infringed.

I'm going to go out on a limb here. If some court somewhere cannot find some limits to apply to these words, then it is time for the Second Amendment to be repealed. That's right. Repealed. Eliminated from our Constitution. Eliminating the right will not eliminate the guns, but it would be a start.

I grew up around guns. There were guns in our house, and they were not locked up. (They also were not loaded, while not locked up.) My father's unlocked gun cabinet was a fixture in our living room. In our household, guns were a viable means to a legitimate end: meat for our table. I learned from a very early age that guns were dangerous weapons.

I played with toy guns when I was a kid. Once, I pointed my toy cap pistol at my father. I was probably 4 or 5 years old. I was playing, as kids do. My father's reaction was swift and memorable. He said, "You do not EVER point a gun, any gun, at anything you do not want to kill!" To this day, something as seemingly benign as a kid pointing a nerf launcher at a bird makes me anxious enough to need to pass that lesson along to the young perpetrator.

Why, then, do I think that guns should be regulated, that our "right to bear arms" should be eliminated?

The simple reason is that most people don't get the lessons about guns that I did. They don't learn to respect guns like I did. More importantly, they don't learn to understand the consequences of guns like I did. If guns are in the home, they are often hidden from children, or so the parents think. If guns are in the home, they are too often handled inappropriately. (Think about how many people are shot when cleaning an "unloaded" gun.) If guns are in the home, they are often left loaded deliberately. ("What good is an unloaded one?" the thinking goes.)

Increasingly, this is how we try to "protect" ourselves and our children from harm in a society and a culture that is replete with gun violence, real and fictional. Moreover, we have a culture that somehow fails to gift our children with the lesson that guns in the wrong hands for the wrong purpose are deadly. And we make all kinds of guns available to anyone with the money to buy them. And then we are "shocked" when someone walks into a theatre or a school and sprays people with bullets.

Well, I am not shocked. I am angry that such stupidity reigns in this country.

An enduring memory of my first trip to London was seeing police officers (even those in riot gear) without guns. Another was seeing a poster in the Underground warning me of pickpockets. I laughed when I read that poster! I didn't want my pocket picked, but at that time in Washington, DC, one could be concerned about being shot just walking down the street. I lived and worked in the neighborhoods where the Washington sniper and his rifle were picking off ordinary people going about their lives. I remember driving for miles out of my way to get gas, hoping to find a gas station where I was "unlikely" to become another target.

Give me a Nation where I have to be concerned with pickpockets instead of gunmen. Please. And repealing the Second Amendment would be a place to start.

Teacher Appreciation Week

During my campaign for Corvallis School Board, I have said ad infinitum that I owe my life's success to the start I got in the Wirt County Schools.  It is true.  I don't know if everyone was the beneficiary of the same opportunities I enjoyed (I hope they were), but I know that I always had a teacher or several who looked out for me.

One made sure I had a new dress when I went to the State Capitol to receive my Golden Horseshoe (an award for 8^th-grade excellence in West Virginia history).  One made sure my best friend and I got the part-time jobs when the local bank needed skilled hands to transcribe endless tax forms for employees and customers in that pre-computer era.  One made sure I had a home and a stand-in family during my senior year in high school when my father was hospitalized for a month and a half and my mother went away to be with him.  One made sure I had a new dress and shoes for graduation.  The same one kept the secret that my parents would be home just in time to watch me graduate at the top of my class.

Teachers were my role models for middle class living.  They dressed well and lived in nice houses.  In my small West Virginia town, they were the only professionals I experienced on a regular basis.  They opened my eyes to opportunities I could never have dreamed of, and they helped me grasp them.  I owe my life’s success to those teachers and all the others who came later.

The ones who came later encouraged me.  One encouraged me not to drop out of college (I did anyway, but I returned).  Others encouraged me to apply to the Maxwell School’s graduate program at Syracuse University, when I didn’t believe I could possibly get in.  Another mentored me through my graduate program, taught me to be an ethical researcher, and gave me the extra push I needed whenever I needed it.  And, finally, one became my role model for retirement.

You may notice that little of this focuses on instruction in the classroom.  Well, they did that too.  From Mrs. Swearingen’s 1^st-grade  phonics drills to Dr. Mueller’s endless patience with my endless questions in graduate school statistics, they all made my academic achievements possible.  I can no longer name them all, but they all played a major role.  While growing up in Wirt County, where the curriculum was basic and the budget tiny, nearly all were inspiring and challenging, including every one of my elementary school teachers.  How can this be?  It seems impossible by today's standards.  But it is not.  IT IS NOT IMPOSSIBLE.

This past week was devoted to teacher appreciation.  For all my teachers past and present, I say, Thank You! for everything you did.

Why Am I Running for Corvallis School Board?

Below is a copy of the statement I provided for the Benton County Voters' Pamphlet for the Special Election, May 17, 2011.  It summarizes my background and why I want to serve on the Corvallis School Board.

OCCUPATION:  Consultant (part-time)

OCCUPATIONAL BACKGROUND:  U.S. Department of Health and Human Services (DHHS):  Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration, 1998‑2008; Office of the Assistant Secretary for Planning and Evaluation, 1997‑98; Agency for Healthcare Policy and Research, 1985‑98.  Executive Office of the President, Office of Management and Budget, 1993.

EDUCATIONAL BACKGROUND:  Ph.D., M.P.A., Public Administration, Maxwell School of Citizenship and Public Affairs, Syracuse University.  B.A., Political Science, West Virginia University.

PRIOR GOVERNMENT EXPERIENCE:  U.S. DHHS, 1985‑2008.  Maryland Health Care Commission Institutional Review Board, 1999‑2008.

OPTIONAL INFORMATION:  

I believe that a quality education is every child’s key to the future.  For me, education paved the road out of poverty.  I owe my life’s success to exceptional teachers and mentors, all committed to high standards.

Depending on the incentives they face and the priorities they pursue, our schools can succeed or fail in preparing our kids to live and work in the 21^st century.  As the School Board fulfills its role in this system, I aim to represent the interests of every Corvallis child, from the most affluent to the most disadvantaged.  To do this, I will listen to families, teachers, administrators, staff, and my conscience to identify what is best for the kids.

In terms of technical competence, I bring over 20 years’ experience in public service, where I managed large projects, contracts, multi-million dollar budgets, cutbacks, stakeholders, and staff.  I made tough decisions as circumstances required; and I brought people together to find practical solutions to problems.  My firsthand experience with Corvallis schools comes through my partner’s two children who, so far, have attended Garfield, Hoover, and Linus Pauling.

Arts and crafts

I've never considered myself an artsy-craftsy kind of person. So, it took me awhile to figure out how to comply with Ricky's wish to have his name ... his complete first name ... on his bedroom wall.

My first idea was to stencil it using commercial stencils. That is, until I learned how much seven (or ten) stencils of the necessary size would cost. Next, I considered stick-on vinyl letters. Again, prohibitively expensive and limited in font and color. Back to stencilling. I decided to cut the stencils myself. I've stenciled before, but the idea of cutting and then using homemade stencils to do script letters (yes, he requested script) really stymied me.

For months, I cogitated. There must be an easier way.

Finally, two weeks before Christmas, it came to me! Find a font on the computer; print out the letters one per page; enlarge them to the necessary size at Kinko's; apply the letter/templates to foam core (only $1 a sheet at the Dollar Store!) using clear packing tape; cut them out with a craft knife (another couple of dollars for new, sharp blades); paint them using leftover latex primer and paint (the exact color he wanted); then, adhere to the wall using removable foam sticky squares.  With Mina's help, of course.

It worked. He is happy. About this, anyway.

Primroses redux

After the yellow primroses come the orange ...

and then the red ... 

In Oregon, the result is a prolonged spring.  That which began in February is still blooming in May.  Sigh.