“If I had influence with the good fairy
who is supposed to preside over the christening of all children, I should ask
that her gift to each child in the world be a sense of wonder so indestructible
that it would last throughout life, as an unfailing antidote against the
boredom and disenchantment of later years--the alienation from the sources of
our strength.”
Rachel Carson
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| Laurie and Phyllis, New York Botanical Garden, 1978 |
I owe most
of my interest in education, culture, and the natural world to my mother, Phyllis Rosenberg,
and her mother Tillie Grieve, both avid gardeners who nurtured my love of
plants and nature. Many of
my friends from elementary school tell me they have a difficult time imagining
me as a biologist and outdoors woman because back when they accompanied me on camping
and outdoor adventures with our school class or Campfire group, it was
definitely NOT my thing. I was terrified
of insects, liked my creature comforts and had a low tolerance for anything
remotely “icky.” However, early
experiences with close family members planted seeds that would one day come to
fruition. Later on in life as I delved
into the research literature that forms the foundation of my
field—environmental education, I learned one of the key predictors of whether
or not someone develops an interest in protecting the
environment is if that person had a close relationship with someone who shared an enthusiasm for nature. The
combination of the emotional aspect of having a positive, uplifting
relationship, and the mental stimulation that nature provides,
makes these experiences capable of having deep lasting impact.
I was
blessed to have had a loving mother who cultivated a close relationship between
the two of us. She was a great friend,
someone who was fun to be with, who had a joie de vive and was the most trusted
of confidants. When I was a girl, my
mother regaled me with tales of growing up in Montague with seven aunts and one
uncle. Two of her aunts had big farms
and she spent many happy summers with them.
A particular story that made an impression on me was her memory of the
big draft horses they had with Christmas sleigh rides. That sounded quite magical to me.
 |
| Phyllis and a Friend, San Francisco, late 50's |
She lived
along the shores of Lake Michigan and when she visited my relatives out there
we would take what seemed to me like long, long drives out to the beach and she
told me she used to ride her bike on those roads to get there! I loved the stories of her many girlfriends
and their escapades at Cedar Lake Academy, the Adventist boarding school where
she went to high school, and later her tales of many friends at Andrews
University in Berrien Springs where she went to college.
Mom told me
about her early years as an English teacher in suburban Grand Rapids and Three
Oaks. She got her Masters in Library
Science from the University of Michigan and went on to become a school
librarian, first at the high school in St. Joe Michigan and later at Herbert
Slater Jr. High in Santa Rosa California and Presidio Jr. High in San
Francisco.
My mom had many good friends from those days with whom she kept in contact. Over the years whenever I met one of them, they reminded me my mother was quite a woman in her day, beautiful inside and out, sophisticated and a real go-getter.
Phyllis was
an adventurer and she spent a year teaching on a US Army Base in Tokyo
Japan. When I was a kid, she would bring
her “Japan slides” to school or vacation bible camp or Campfire Girls
meetings, and tell us all about what Japan was like. I always joked that when mom flew back from
Japan, her jet was followed by a small private one carrying all her
goodies—silk kimonos, dolls, wood carvings, ivory, jade, china rice bowls and
sake sets, fabrics, fans, wood block prints, watercolors, an ivory laughing
Buddha and a porcelain Kon Yang, goddess of love, just to name a few. How I loved sharing those things with my
mom! Her god-daughter Cathy Geha wrote
me from Lebanon about the Japanese sandals and doll mom sent her and how
envious her sister was. Phyllis had
exquisite taste and treasured and appreciated lovely things.
Later in my
life, my mom was my partner in crime.
She taught me how to sew and do crewel embroidery. She was a very creative soul. I remember several epic Halloween
outfits—fairy princess, witch, mother nature, and the year we tried to fashion
a pumpkin frame out of wire. I
have a photo in my collection of Toni Arnold, Kay Jones and Linda Kourey
wearing flower petal costumes with petals covered in tissue paper
with their faces in the center, which she made for some spring play at Edison
Elementary school. All those Campfire
Girl projects she led—making embroidered heart-shaped pin cushions, felt
hangings, sewing my Indian princess gown, all those beads, and beads . . . the
field trips to places like the State Capital and Kellogg factory. Growing up, we were all blessed to have been
surrounded by loving parents who worked hard to pull off these experiences
for us! For those of you whose parents
are still alive and were your fairy godmothers and godfathers, give them a big
hug for me, and if they’ve gone on to heaven, say a little thank you prayer. | |
| Pookie and Belinda |
And best for
last, my mom shared with me the love of reading, which was the thing most near
and dear to her heart. I remember
vividly mom reading to me, “Good Night Moon,” “Where the Wild Things Are,”, she
gave me a copy of “The Giving Tree” one of our favorites, “Pookie” a story
about a rabbit who runs away from home and tries his hand disastrously at being
a fairy, until he is rescued by a wonderful kind woman named Belinda who
sorta looked like my mom, “Paddle to the Sea” about a little carved Indian in a
canoe that traveled the Great Lakes, a gift to us from mom’s friend Wanda, and
then as I got older, reading aloud “My Father’s Dragon” and many others. Then as I became an independent reader, she
turned me on to Roald Dahl, (Willie Wonka), the Dr. Doolittle series, Mary
Poppins, the Borrowers, Freaky Friday, Harriet the Spy, “A Wrinkle in Time”
“Are You There God, It’s Me Laurie (I mean Margaret)” . . . OK I gotta stop,
the list is too long!! We wrote books in
third grade and mom and some other mothers sewed them all together for us, and
later as Coldwater librarian, mom helped organize a story writing contest as part of the book fairs at the
elementary schools.
As a little
girl encouraged by my mom, I devoured nature stories and made fairy gardens
around the yard, thing I still do to this day.
I harvested and cooked fruits and vegetables from the garden with mom
and grandma, did crafts using everything from sea shells to pressed leaves,
collected pretty stones, went to see maple syrup being made and scooped up
tadpoles to take back to a classroom aquarium.
I’m in my 50’s now, and yet those experiences still burn brightly in my
memory.
My mom
expressed that she didn’t need people to come to the cemetery and “visit” her after
she died, because she firmly believed she was NOT there. She wanted to be remembered for the love she
shared with us when she was alive, the wonderful times we spent together, and
the effort she put forth to make a difference in her community. Mom was raised a Seventh Day Adventist and
they believe the body is the temple of the holy spirit, so we should take good
care of this gift--not waste the treasure of life that we have been given. My mom wanted to make the world a better
place. She was a firm believer that she
had a guardian angel, and that’s what my mother was for me, MY guardian angel. My confidence in guardian angels waxes and
wanes, but I have come to realize that the world is filled with them--whenever we choose to engage in activities that “heal the world” and heal each
other, we manifest spiritual love into the material world and become each others angels. This type of angel or fairy godmother or
whatever you want to call it often shows up in my life. To paraphrase the gist of Hebrews 13:2, “Do
not forget to show kindness to strangers, for thereby some have entertained
angels unawares.” I learned that verse
of course, from my mother.