Girls’ Basketball Camps No Longer a Novelty

When I was growing up, I lamented the lack of opportunities for girls and would have loved to hone my skills at camp. The summer after my freshman year at Illinois State University, ISU, I complained to my friend, Sterling High School Coach Phil Smith.

“I found a camp for you to go to,” Phil said.

“They don’t have girls’ basketball camps in the area.”

“I know—it’s a boy’s camp. Lee Frederick’s One-on-One.”

The first day, Phil made sure the boys would let me participate. I lined up behind the guys who were a head-and-shoulder taller and 40 pounds heavier than I. I learned how to spin, dribble behind my back and between my legs. I developed Kareem Abdul-Jabbar‘s sky-hook. The boys beat me every match up in the one-on-one, but I never gave up. At the end of the week, the guys took home their medals and trophies; I left with bruises and a bunch of new moves.

“Girl, whatcha been doin’?” Charlotte Lewis, our six-foot-three, one-hundred-eighty-pound, All-American Olympian center, said that next season. “I can’t stop ya no more.”

The day I beat Charlotte one-on-one, I knew I’d earned my starting position.

Phil, ahead of his time, suggested we start our own local camp. McKinzie-Smith Girls Basketball Camp was born and ran for a decade. The first year, we handed out t-shirts with the words BASKET printed above an image of ball and awarded a trophies of male figurines shooting hoops. No one minded; girls were too happy to be having their own court time. Then we became more sophisticated, developing a better t-shirt design. With Phil’s business sense and coaching knowledge, our camp grew successful. In later years, we called it Lead Up Camp focusing on developing individual skills much like they do in camps now.

Today I am astounded at the smorgasbord of choices available to girls from team camps to offensive skills camps, to specialized position camps, as well as elite camps and AAU camps and dozens of others. A few examples: Little Dribbler Camp (pre K to 3rd grade) Hittin’ The Hardwood Exclusive Basketball Camp (3rd through 8th grade) Breakthrough Skill Development Basketball Camp  

Even with all the options available, I would still recommend attending my alma mater, Illinois State University, where girls’ camps have been held since the mid ‘70s. Stephanie Glance, Coach of the Year Missouri Valley Conference, and Jamie Russell (Rock Falls star and transfer from Wisconsin) who became the All Valley First Team Newcomer of the Year, are sure to offer valuable tips.

My other top choice, University of Wisconsin-Stevens Point camps run by the Wisconsin Intercollegiate Athletic Conference’s most decorated coach, Shirley Egner.

College Graduate Finds Her Calling Working With the Elderly

The French love a celebration; yet, university students receive their degree through the mail. However in the U.S.A., graduation is a rights of passage, a moment in time to be marked by celebration. And it should be!

The graduate with proud parents & sis

The graduate with proud parents & sis

We danced in the streets when my oldest niece walked last Saturday. Family scattered across the Midwest applauded her efforts. She not only received her B.S. of Science degree from University of Wisconsin- Stout, but she graduated with Cum Laude Honors. (G.P.A. of at least 3.5)

School was more difficult for Marie. Like for me, math was a struggle, but she is gifted in people skills. She lights up a room with her smile, can converse with a recluse and bring laughter to the lips of dour faced octogenarian. Marie has a knack of making older people feel appreciated. Not everyone is capable of working with senior citizens, as Marie instinctively knows, “The elderly love people that are fun, entertaining, creative; someone that can make them feel young and capable of doing things.”

“It all started when I was a child, going to work with my mom, who was a recreational therapist in care centers. I also always loved hanging out with my 3 grandparents. Two years ago, my roommate helped me get a job where she worked at Solomon Hill Residential Care and I fell in love with the 4 elderly residents. I knew this right away; this was my calling.”

Marie, a high-spirited, spunky gal, has her dad’s Carlson smile and charisma, and her mom’s McKinzie resiliency and sensitivity. That same perseverance that led her to throw tantrums as a toddler and run cross country as a teen, also made her determined to complete extra requirements in college and never give up when faced with obstacles.

“Every year had its own challenges. Freshman year was transitioning away from living at home. Sophomore year, Pops had a heart attack and surgery; it was impossible to concentrate on school. Junior year, I learned how to handle the death of two favorite residents, then attended summer school, working 2 jobs and living in a beat-up old house with terrible landlords. Senior year was the best year ever! Now the hardest part is leaving my roommates and best friends and the place I’ve called home the past 4 years. “

All along, Marie matured with every setback and gained a better understanding of herself.

“In college, I learned I am a good student. In high school, the classes were boring, teachers didn’t care so much and I didn’t like my subjects. At Stout, the professors CARED about me.  And I LOVED going to class, having a say in discussions, and learning what I’m passionate about. The biggest thing I learned is that it takes a special person to care for elderly.”

Last Saturday, Marie beamed as she announced, “graduation is best day of my life!” After the ceremony, the celebration ended in typical Wisconsin fashion at Pickles, a local college bar, where family and friends of the housemates toasted over Wisconsin’s finest brew.

partying in The Pickles

partying in The Pickles

Then 48 hours later, without missing a beat, the new grad faced the real world as she held her mom’s hand in the hospital while waiting for doctors to remove a grapefruit-sized tumor from her dad’s thyroid.

Next step, Marie will be saving up to go to graduate school for a master’s in Occupational Therapy. Like so many college coeds, she faces the uncertainty of a diminishing job market during economic hard times. But there will always be work for my niece. With society growing older, we need more Maries to lighten up our dark days of aging.

Happy Mother’s Day- A Tribute to My Greatest Teacher

In Paris, nearly three decades ago, I was filled with trepidation, anticipating the birth of my child. How could I possibly measure up to the task?  Within the previous year, I lost my career due to a car accident and my baby in a miscarriage. With my confidence shaken, I struggled to rebuild my life one step at time. And to top it off, I would be raising my child abroad in “French” no less.

Would I be patient enough to let my independent two-year-old do everything herself when she embarrassed me by parading around the block with the hood of her spring jacket over her  rump, and shouting, “Me do. Dress myself, Mommy.”

Will I be clever enough to turn a child’s disappointment at her dad’s not coming to dinner into delight by serving supper on a card table in the living room and pretending it is a restaurant?

Will I be creative enough to invent cool games for hot summer afternoons, like painting sidewalks with water, building tents over picnic tables, making lemonade ice cubes?

Will I be perceptive enough to know when my child screams at siblings that something went wrong at school?

Will I be kind enough to make Kool-Aid for the entire neighborhood, to pitch whiffle balls to the kids next door, to volunteer as a bank mom at the grade school?

Will I be tolerant enough to accept the trail of muddy feet from the backdoor to the refrigerator and to answer the phone ringing at all hours?

Will I find time to watch track meets, tennis matches, basketball games, band concerts, and drama performances, to share my child’s interest?

Will I be flexible enough to reheat meals, alter vacation plans, celebrate birthdays early or late, put career plans on hold?

Will I listen closely enough to understand tears as my adolescent struggles to find herself?

Will I be accommodating enough to run out to the store when my child brings unexpected guests home from college?

Will I trust my teenager when she comes home late and my young adult when he picks a mate?

Lenore & Pat

Lenore & Pat

Will I have the faith to sleep when my grown child travels across the continents daring to experience adventures my generation never dreamed of trying?

Will I be wise enough to know that the soundest advice I can offer is by my example?

Will I be smart enough to teach by patience and understanding, not commanding and demanding?

Will I be strong enough to love as unconditionally as my mother loved me?

Will I be as deserving of the honor given on Mother’s Day as she?

Autism: A Cause To Stand Up For

What affects more Americans than diabetes, AIDS, cancer, cerebral palsy, cystic fibrosis, muscular dystrophy or Down syndrome combined?

Autism.

Over 2 million Americans fall under the umbrella of brain developmental disorders referred to as Autism Spectrum Disorders. ASD creates social and behavioral challenges, which often include repetitive mannerisms. Researchers are yet to identify the cause, but attribute it to a combination of genetic make up and environmental factors.

Every spring, since 1970, the U.S. celebrates National Autism Awareness Month, so before April slips away I wanted to get on board. http://www.autism-society.org/

Although the exact cause of ASD remains a mystery, what specialists do know is that the numbers are increasing at an alarming rate. The CDC estimates as many as 1 in 88 children or 1 out of every 54 boys and one out of every 252 girls is born with ASD.

Statistics indicate that more than ten million individuals are afflicted worldwide. Five years ago the United Nations declared every April 2nd as World Autism Day. Across the continents, people are encouraging others to stand up for autism to increase awareness and funding for research. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=csYs_aSXFcQ

Unfortunately in many parts of the globe, autistic children are institutionalized due to ignorance and lack of early intervention measures and public health programs. The more obvious signs of autism usually emerge between the age of 2 and 3 and behavioral therapies can be most effective the earlier the disorder is diagnosed. http://www.cdc.gov/ncbddd/autism/index.html

A career change in my teaching role led to work in my school’s learning support department, which coincided with a time when I became more limited by illness and a medical treatment that required minimal light exposure and maximal eye protection. While walking in the shadows, wearing black glasses and gloves, I bump into obstacles. I am forced to see the environment through different parameters too. Working with special kids is a great fit; I am a quirky adult.

Everyone who has ever worked with ASD individuals knows that every step forward in understanding their universe is a move in the right direction for they may not have the capacity to understand ours. To comprehend the world of autism demands infinite patience and persistence, but the rewards are immeasurable.

Please take time to witness the triumph of an Asperger’s boy and basketball. Stand up and raise the roof for autism!

J Mac Greatest Basketball Story Ever

Family Easter Tradition in France -A Table in Normandy

Though, Gérald and I, as empty nesters, will dine tête a tête this Sunday, our hearts are filled with memories of holidays past  when our children were younger and we were surrounded by family. As with every celebration in France, Easter begins and ends à table.

Normandy is appreciated the most at mealtime when land and sea are perfectly marinated. Mamie cooks the traditional Easter favorite, leg of lamb.  At the head of the table, Papie carves the tender meat fresh from a newborn romping on the rolling green hillside only days before. But back up, each course is an event worth savoring.

toasting champagne

toasting champagne

First a toast of champagne and a light amuse bouche aperitif. Next act is naturally an egg based, a soufflé as light as cotton candy, followed by a platter of seafood: shrimp, crab legs, clams, oysters, bullot, something for everyone’s palate.

The main lamb course is always served with flageolet, a mini lima bean, that reminds me of the word flatulence and of course, bean jokes inevitably enter the conversation, sending the children into gales of laughter. Mamie always has a special dish for every family member, so a garden of vegetables -beans, broccoli, potatoes, spinach, tomatoes – also grows out of the linen tablecloth.

The children eat with the adults where they risk being reprimanded to sit up straight. However, I never notice table manners; my fork and knife are usually in the wrong hands. Softhearted Mamie excuses the grandkids early and they scamper upstairs to read Lucky Luke or Astérix comic books until called for dessert.

Each course is accompanied by wine, a light white Burgundy for the seafood starters and then a heavier Bordeaux for the meat and cheese. Every big meal is followed by a green salad and cheese platter with triangles of creamy local cheeses like Camembert and Pont L’Evêque.

family feast

family feast

Dessert always includes seasonal fruits, which in the spring means luscious strawberries. Like little elves, the children reappear to gobble up berries dipped in fresh cream. The kids magically disappear again when they smell the coffee brewing. Papie ceremoniously opens the antique Normand hutch and pulls out his bottle of Calvados offering, “a little taste.”  True Normands swear that the fiery apple brandy aids the digestion. During weddings and christenings, the “trou Normand,” a shot served on sorbet in the middle of the feast, is customary.

Throughout each course a lively repartee of sarcasm, word play and arguments ensue that to a soft-spoken Norwegian American sounds like verbal abuse, but is only part of the French art de vivre and their love of language and debate.

Just when you think your belly will burst, Mamie rings a bell and the children race downstairs, for in France, bells, not bunnies, deliver eggs. As a token of mourning for crucified Christ, church bells remain silent from Good Friday until Easter Sunday. On Easter, when the chimes ring again, children rush outside to see the bells fly home to Rome, after dropping chocolate Easter eggs from the sky.

boy with Easter basket

boy with Easter basket

finding eggs on the balcony

finding eggs on the balcony

The children crowd onto the wrought iron balcony to find eggs tucked behind the potted geraniums and tulips. While they devour the chocolate figurines, the adults, too, savor a delicacy from the local chocolatier. Everyone moans of stomachaches and swears they will never eat again, but a few hours later after a stroll by the sea, we are à table again discussing the favorite French topic, food.

101st Anniversary- International Women’s Day-« Connecting Girls Inspiring Futures »

March 8 marks the 101st international women’s day! Bear with me guys, you may be weary about hearing about women`s rights, but when you’ve been the low ” man ” on the totem pole of life for so long you never forget. Unfortunately, in many parts of the world women are still denied equality in education, careers, income and medical care, but in my homeland, we have come a long, long way. So thanks guys for your support. This is not a rant about men, but rather a chest bump for women.

From childhood to motherhood to middle age from the Midwest to the East Coast to Europe, throughout physical relocations and emotional upheavals, each stage of my life has been shaped by women, who helped me make the transition.

I am especially grateful to the grandmothers I admired; even moreso to the mother who gave me life, then offered me to the world. To my sisters who taught me to give and take, forgive and forget, talk and listen, twist and shout !

To my college basketball coach, who dared me to become all that I could be.

I am thankful for female friendships spanning different generations, time zones and continents. From childhood, high school and college pals, part of the past that shaped me and  connect me to my roots, to my French hosts and German teammates, who adopted me into their homes and hearts when I first moved abroad. To my international friends from Africa, Australia, Scandinavia –England, Ireland, Scotland, Switzerland and Other Lands I could never place on a map, who shared their stories and an understanding of their culture.                         .

To my noisy friends, quiet friends,
old friends,new friends,
black, white, brown friends.
To my tall friends, short friends,
big friends, small friends,
to my athletic friends, to my intellectual friends
to my coaching friends, my teaching friends, my writing friends.
To my blogging buddies, to my cyber pals.
To my girlfriends here, there and everywhere.

No matter where I settled, women of all sizes, shapes, and colors have befriended me.  They helped me feel a sense of belonging not only to the farm community of Sterling, to the Illinois State college town of Normal-Bloomington, to romantic Paris, to Middle Ages Marburg, to international  Geneva, but to something greater.

Merci mille fois to the women who shaped me, so that one day, I  could become a role model to my nieces and the young girls I have taught and coached.

Special thanks to my daughter, my link to the future, who achieved her goal of becoming a doctor, a dream made possible in part, because of the courageous steps women took in the past to help pave the way.

So on International Women’s Day 2012, I  raise my glass to the ladies ‘round the globe in my ya ya sisterhood!