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As part of our Christmas concert, the Manassas Chorale uses battery-powered candles since the local fire marshals frown on the immolation of a concert hall containing up to 1100 people that would likely result if we used open flames. Last year, my electric  candle literally fell apart when I went to use it and so I was the only kid without a candle during our closing song, “Silent Night.” (Sniff.) So I bought myself a better quality candle, put a couple of AA batteries in it last night, slipped it into my pocket and set off for dress rehearsal. About five minutes later, I smelled something burning and also felt a burning sensation on my leg in the location of the candle. I tried to pull it out but it was too hot to touch. I had visions of my dad’s Impala (which I drive now–someone has to) going up in a grand bonfire. I pulled over and grabbed some napkins I had in the front seat (Thank you, McDonalds) and jerked the smoking candle out of my pocket. Apparently the batteries shorted out somehow, split from the heat and burned my little leg (though not badly).

There are a couple of lessons I draw from this experience: 1) Always test your equipment beforehand in a safe environment with a fire extinguisher nearby. 2) AA batteries have more power than anyone would think and 3) Choral music is generally beneficial but can in rare cases be hazardous to your health. Be careful out there.

I had intended to write about the Chorale’s Candlelight Concert last night at Bruton Parish Church here in Williamsburg but I am too sad to write abut music this morning. Yesterday a campus policeman at Vriginia tech was shot a killed by a gunman who was also shot and killed. Then, some of our Chorale members were delayed coming down here because I-95 was totally shut down after someone shot a state trooper near Thornburg. Both people survived those shootings although the trooper has non-life-threatening injuries and the shooter life-threatening ones.

I think Virginia has prided itself on a long tradition of decorum and social order, and by and large that is the case. When these horrible things happen, perhaps they seem worse in the light of the usual way of life we enjoy. My condolences, prayers and heartfelt sympathy to the policemen involved in these incidents, to their families, and to the tech community which once again has suffered an awful tragedy. I am trying hard to find it within my heart to pray for the perpetrators of these crimes, which I know I should but am finding only anger at some people who must have been deranged.

May Christ have mercy on us all.

• Hylton Center Box Office (Wednesday through Saturday, 12:00 PM to 6:00 PM)
• Hylton Center Box Office on the night of the concert

You might remember that I went on about pruning my hollies last week. Well, I finished, and here are the results. First, a “before” picture of the big (about 35 feet tall) holly:

 

 

  

For want of a circuit breaker, a 767 lands gear up.

 The preliminary accident report came out on the Polish 767 that landed gear up in early November. The hydraulic system that powers the gear lost pressure due to a broken hose, then the electric gear release wouldn’t work. The pilots were getting low on gas, so they had to land with the gear up.

The investigators found a circuit breaker popped that controls power to the circuit breaker powering the gear release. The checklist said to check the second, but not the first. They jacked the aircraft, pulled it into a hanger, raised the gear, pushed the CB in, and the gear came down.

No doubt there will be a lot of second guessing and finger pointing. But, it seems to me that the pilots did exactly what they should have.

And people ask if I miss flying.

A popular saying with pilots is that an accident report is the result of months of study of a situation where a pilot had seconds to decide what to do.

(Today’s blog is courtesy of an email from my brother Ron who lives near Atlanta and is a retired Delta pilot with 27 years’ experience and over 17,000 hours in his logbook. That’s 5 million miles by air.)

There was a pretty good frost yesterday morning, so there was not only frost on the pumpkin, but also on our cars. Which meant that I had to start the two cars we use to go to church (we leave at different times, generally), turn on the defrosters to full blast, and start scraping.  Therein lies the rub: we’ve had a turnover in our cars in the past year and I don’t know where my good scrapers are. Having a good scraper for frost (not ice, almost anything like a rock or shingle will work to scrape ice off, but we don’t have ice on the pumpkins that much.  We do have a lot of frost, and that’s why I need a good scraper) is essential. If I use an ice scraper on frost, it leaves little cleared trails about 3/16 of an inch wide. That doesn’t clear a windshield very fast.

Everything I had that had migrated to the trunks of the cars was an ice scraper–thick blades designed to cut through up to three inches of ice.

Then there are those pitiful combination scrapers/brushes that are about 20 inches long and as ineffectual as ice scrapers for removing frost. They are too rigid to conform to the windshield and remove frost.

The best scraper I have ever had (yes, I do remember things like this) was a gas station giveaway with “Scottie’s Texaco” on it and a nice thin blade that followed the contours of the windshield and removed frost like a champ. I don’t think you can buy these any more, and mine is either in a box of car supplies in the basement or wedged in a crevice in a car seat somewhere. I hope I can find it. Nothing beats a good frost scraper like the giveaway from two decades in the past.

If I can find all the scrapers I’ll take pictures of each type and post them here for your viewing pleasure. Now, if I can only find the camera…(Later: I still haven’t found the camera. I used images from the interwebs, obviously.)

Gail Hall was the sub-school 5 secretary at Robinson High School in Fairfax for about a decade in the 1980’s and 1990’s, but she was more than that. She was a teacher, a friend, a colleague, a mother, grandmother, great-grandmother, dedicated Christian, gentle lady, devoted daughter and heart of our subschool during what one of my colleagues called “the golden age of Sub-School 5.”

(I should add here that subschools were smaller administrative units within the larger school. Each had its own principal, counselors, secretary, librarian, staff and faculty and was “home” for students who took English, social studies,math and science courses.)

Gail was the mother of our subschool. She sat at a large desk out in the open where everyone could come to her and come they did. Like many other school secretaries, she was a vital part of the faculty and staff. She welcomed visitors and parents, counseled troubled students, consoled weeping students, calmed angry ones sent “to the principal’s office,” heard out angry or upset or confused parents, joked with us teachers, coordinated receptions and social events, took calls, trained student assistants to be professional and friendly, did typing, first on an IBM Selectric and then on a computer, and kept an unfailing smile and laughed the most infectious laugh I have ever heard.

That laugh. We treasured hearing it so much that we devised ways to make her laugh. She ate lunch with a group of English teachers and the librarians in a back room of the library office, and we were sure to think of what we could share or tell that would make Mrs. Hall laugh. It wasn’t hard. She had the laughter of an angel.

When Steve Nichols was our sub-school principal, he dressed as Santa Claus and came around to the classrooms in the last few minutes before Christmas vacation with a booming “Ho,ho ho!” and candy for the good boys and girls. At every classroom, he would ask, “Are there any good boys and girls in here?” High school students being who they are, a good many would call out, “No!,” and Steve/Santa would tell them “No candy for you,then,” but give it to them anyway, and to the few self-professed “good” boys and girls. Mrs. Hall played Mrs. Santa Claus, giggling and smiling with delight. We could hear them making their way through the subschool by the jingling of the bells on their clothing and that laugh of Gail’s. That wonderful laugh.

Elizabeth Hudgins, my English department colleague and friend of Gail’s, remembered the visits from “Mr. and Mrs. Claus” during her eulogy at yesterday’s memorial service for Gail at the Church of the Apostles in Fairfax. Over 200 people gathered to remember this special lady, to celebrate her life and to rejoice in her going home, perhaps too suddenly and too soon.

About thirty former teachers from the golden age of  Sub School 5 were there, and four former principals, and several other staff, counselors and secretaries. It was one of those reunions that funerals sometimes turn into, awkward in a way, but touching and emotional as we saw people we hadn’t seen in years and decades. We resolved to get together in the future, to remember the golden times and to share what we are doing now. I think it appropriate that this coming together was occasioned by the lady who was more than a secretary, and more than a friend and colleague, the great warm heart of Sub-School 5 during those years, Mrs. Gail W. Hall. Heaven now rings with her laughter and we rejoice that she is there while we mourn her passing here. Rest in peace, Mrs. Hall.

Shakespeare said it wasn’t strained, and I believe it after this morning. Mercy came unexpectedly and I am thankful for that.

A few weeks ago, I picked up a little speeding ticket for going 40 in a 25 mph school zone. Now, lest you think I am a Bad Person who endangers the lives of innocent children (or teenagers since it involved a high school), let me say that 1) the school zone lights were not flashing, or I didn’t see them if they were, and I am very careful about school zones, having a genuine regard for the young people who will pay my Social Security, and 2) I was going 40, keeping up with a pack of about four other cars in a 35 mph zone. It’s a little strategy I use in traffic around here to keep from being run over. So, by my reckoning, I was 5 mph over. The officer didn’t see it that way and said it was 1:50 PM and the school zone lights were on (or not since they weren’t using his watch), and I would receive a little pink certificate he filled out carefully by hand.

I know, speed kills and the officer was pleasant and professional, but there I was, looking at a fine of $167 ($7 x 15 miles over the limit plus $62 in court costs) which I would rather not pay. I had the option to send it in and “pre-pay” the fine and not have to go to court and have points on my license. Or, I could fight it and plead innocent, but it would come down to a he (the officer) said/ he (I) said, and the court would probably go with the sworn officer. Or I could plead guilty and hope for a reduction in charge based on my good looks, driving record and history of helping orphans who have no shoes (pick the most likely of the three).

So I decided to go to court, plead guilty, and throw myself on the mercy of the court. I have always wanted to use that phrase and this, my first time in court, would be my chance. Maybe.

I took the online driver’s improvement class and passed the test (multiple choice–I was hoping for essay) and took myself to the local county courthouse. There a nice officer explained what would happen. The Commonwealth’s Attorney would talk to each of us (only about 15 in the courtroom I was in) and tell us the likely disposition of the case. He said that for me he would recommend dismissal of the charges (based on one of the three factors I’ve mentioned before), a driver’s improvement course (had already taken it) and court costs of $62. It sounded like a plan to me and when the bailiff called my name, the Commonwealth’s Attorney recommended dismissal, noted I had taken the course and reminded me I would have to pay court costs. The judge agreed and minutes later I was a free person.

I think anyone who receives a ticket and who has a good driving record should realize that it is worth your time to take the case to court, plead guilty(if you are) and have a reduced or dismissed charge. It worked for me, and I am grateful. It’s worth a try if you ever find yourself in this situation.

Now, I’ll grant you that “Pruning, Pruning” does not have the same musical quality as “Wassail, Wassail” or “Caroling, Caroling,” which is probably why the phrase hasn’t been set to music…yet. But pruning is a noble and necessary undertaking and one in which I have been engaged for the past couple of days.

 We decided to have the siding replaced on our 43-year-old house and that meant I needed to cut back the giant holly trees and the overgrown pyracantha that hadn’t been pruned for about five years. Now, I’m not much on horticulture, but I do know how to prune. I used to help an elderly neighbor with her rose garden and she taught me how to prune roses. My mother came over to my house once a year for the express purpose of telling me what needed to be cut back and how, and somehow the lesson stuck. It’s a miracle. I learned, for example, that pyracantha needed to be pruned severely each year. Mine was flopped over its restraining cable. So, I cut it back. Here’s what it looks like now:

The three sticks in the middle of the picture are the pyracantha. It will grow out by next year. I promise.

 Then I worked on two hollies yesterday. Here is a picture of one of four hollies “before”:

Pretty shaggy, huh? Well, no more. Here’s an “after” picture (the mostly pruned bush is the rightmost of the two):

There’s a difference. The interior is cleaned up and the bush has more of a symmetric shape. I use some basic principles of pruning, such as cut any branches that cross so they don’t cross any more, cut branches so they are away from the house and shape up the bush.

If you’re interested and don’t know anything about pruning, here are some basic tools. I use hand tools because I don’t want to cut my arms off.Although I have come close with hand tools.

You’ll notice, top to bottom, a pair of heavy duty work gloves for things like thorns and other hazards that come from working with plants, a pair of hand pruners for small cuts, a bow saw for bigger limbs and a pair of long-handled pruners for everything else. I didn’t include eye protection since I was wearing it because I would usually get something in my eye during the proceedings. Actually, I could use a hockey mask since the falling branches almost invariably smack me in the face. But my eyes are protected.

Coming up: some more pruning pictures as I get to it.Stay tuned.