I was watching a father riding bicycles with his children earlier in the
evening. The three of them were riding up and down the street...last Sunday I
watched him teaching the little boy. The child would fall off and cry and get
back on his bike and fall off and cry and get back on his bike. Tonight he rode
with confidence up and down the street. I remember learning to ride my bike
with my Dad. I would sit on the seat and he would hold on to the bike and
travel with me up and down Cottage Street in Fort Wayne. I was never afraid my
Dad was always right there, then one day I looked back and saw him standing in
the middle of the street down a block and I immediately fell off. He was
there, of course, in a second to pick me back up and put me back on the bike. My
Dad is good at that....a little accident, a little stress, a little set back
in my life...but brush away the tears and get back up on that bicycle
seat...that is the way life is meant to be lived.

Thursday night was our second annual Take Back The Night, a march and rally
against sexual violence. I talked a young teacher friend into attending with
me...knowing she had not yet begun to have her share of causes. We walked over
to Tri-State and were promptly pulled into the crowd chanting Take Back the
Night. We had a police escort as we wound our way through the small town to
the downtown for the speeches Dan candle light vigil. The mayor gave a
proclamation, the high school football coach spoke (he was stellar) and we lit our
candles. It was a sober and important evening. I spent the next couple of hours
with the women who was the organizer at Rachael's coffee shop trying to think
of ways to promote the rally for next year...within minutes I had become the
community outreach spokesperson.

The week was full of school, a board meeting, a few nights at the gym...at
watching spring come home...little by little. She seems to be unpacking slowly
but each item is fresh and laundered and most welcome. My crap apple trees
are just starting to bloom along with tulips and redbuds.

Tonight I will end my passage with a lovely poem from a fourth grader. We
have been studying poetry from Hailstones and Halibut Bones...this was gift to
me. Wishing you all a week in which you jump back on your bicycle! Love, Lou
Ann

Purple
by Melissa Miller

Purple is the color of a plum
and a berryied thumb.
The color of pride, shame
and never ending fame.

Purple is greedy and rude
The color of love, hate, and death.
Purple is gossip.
Purple is royalty.

Purple can be many things like a lilac bush
Rusty old fish hooks.
Purple can be many things
A weeping Willow, shells on strings.

Without purple we would miss a lot of things.
Purple is a color like no other.
Purple is summer day's picnicking fun
Everything put together as one.

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