maryleehahn

Slice of Life: Memories of My Parents

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As I get ready to cook dinner, I chuckle to myself remembering what a struggle it was for mom to come up with meal ideas. We were absolutely no help when she asked what she should cook. The irony is that mom was a foodie. She loved the trips to Denver with her friends to go out to eat and see a show. She was always up for trying new foods, and she instilled the spirit of adventurous eating in my brother and me. We ate lima beans and Brussels sprouts, mangos and fresh coconut, and the best homemade Roquefort salad dressing I’ve ever had. Recipes from my childhood remain in rotation with new favorites: broccoli cheese soup (with bacon), cheesy beans and rice, chicken and wild rice, Lubbers Lounge LuLu, chili bean tostadas, and hamburger cobbler, to name a few. Thanks to mom, I never struggle to know what to cook for dinner.

Mom was a collector. She especially loved miniatures and antique glassware. But she also loved Boyd Bears, Hallmark ornaments, and apparently, scissors. I have her pinking shears and fabric shears, two smaller pairs of sewing scissors, the shears she used to cut hair, several pairs of our childhood scissors, multiple embroidery scissors, various manicure scissors including our baby fingernail scissors, and, naturally, a miniature pair of scissors.

Mom was an avid reader. She and a friend would go to the library sale every year and she’d come home with multiple grocery sacks full of books. She had a clever system for making sure she didn’t accidentally re-buy a book she’d already read. Inside the back cover of the myriad paperback mysteries she read, she’d pencil her initials. Then, when the sacks of library sale books had all been read, they were re-donated to the library. At the library sale, the back cover of each book was checked before the book was added to the sack of purchases.

Mom was an amazing seamstress, a devoted volunteer (Cub Scouts, swim meets, Bible School, reading buddy), and a creative gardener (she grew asparagus and tried her hand at breeding iris).

Most of all, mom was a great mom. She worked selflessly to make sure we had more and better than she did growing up. She died on March 11, 2017, just a few months before her 90th birthday.

Dad died on March 12, 1994. I still wonder if mom held on trying to make it to March 12, as if there were a special portal on that day that would take her straight to dad. She spent the final 23 years of her life without him. He was only 67 when he died and I had just started to get to know him adult-to-adult. As I now approach the age he was when he died (mom was the same age), I have a much greater empathy for her pain and her long years of loneliness.

My primary childhood memory of dad is that he was always working. He was the parts manager of the John Deere implement store and the needs of the local farmers, especially at harvest times, kept him behind the parts counter for long hours. I remember visiting him at work during Girl Scout cookie sales season and how special it was that he took time away from the parts counter to escort me to the “foreign” world of the tractor mechanics to sell my cookies.

When he wasn’t at work, dad was working in the yard. He was proud of the lawn and the trees he managed to grow in the arid high plains. When we wasn’t working in the yard, he was reading the paper, Popular Mechanics, or Smithsonian Magazine. While mom was the actively involved parent, dad was the rock of quiet strength.

There are more memories of each of them, of course. So many more. This slice barely skims the surface. If I could give them a message as I pause on March 11th and 12th, it would be a message of gratitude for my life, and to let them know that they remain an integral part of who I am and who I continue to become.

Slice of Life: You’ve Got This!

You’ve Got This!
by Lindsay Bonilla
illustrated by Keisha Morris
Holiday House, 2024

We all need some encouragement at times. Life can be hard.

Whether it’s learning to ride a bike…

…or taking a test…

…it helps when there’s someone there who cheers us on with, “YOU’VE GOT THIS.”

Stepping out on stage? Getting a shot? Standing up to bullies? Admitting your mistakes? YOU’VE GOT THIS!

But the best part is

This book, with its catchy rhyming text, was made for the beginning of the school year (and frequent re-reads thereafter), the week before state tests, graduations (all ages and stages), and for anyone who needs a reminder that you’re there for them, believe in them, are rooting for them.

Slice of Life: Our More-Than-Human Neighbors

There was a hit-and-run vehicular homicide on the street in front of our house last week.

An SUV hit one of our neighbors and took off without checking to see if she was okay. She was not. The Division of Wildlife was called, who redirected the call to the police. Two squad cars came. A shot was fired. A body was removed. Her herd came back that evening to check on her, but she was gone.

A couple of weeks ago, it was The Squirrel With The Short Tail who I found murdered in the street in front of our house. She received a solemn trashcan funeral and a prayer for the forgiveness of humans in too big of a hurry to let little ones get across the street to the Burr Oak Buffet. With sassy Short Tail gone the squirrel crew who cleans up under our bird feeder was a little lost before they finally held auditions for Big Boss Squirrel.

In happier news, the hawks who sit on the power lines that run alongside the railroad tracks up the block are still helping to keep the population of rodents in check (cycle of life, not murder), and the mockingbird who flits from the woods at Bull Moose Run to those same power lines (further down the road) is still flitting. My nose tells me that our skunk friends are starting to wake up, and the chipmunks have come out from under our neighbor’s fence to hide in our woodpile between seed-grabbing forays under the bird feeder when the squirrels aren’t looking. The birds are getting loud — wrens, chickadees, cardinals, downies and hairies and flickers, robins, nuthatches, titmice, finches, and even still a few juncos. A couple of the turkey buzzards are back from their vacation down south. Most are waiting until it’s warmer. This week, friends. This week. Soon it will be time to take the two black swallowtail chrysalises out of the garage and welcome the first butterflies of the summer to fly free and help to hold off their Lepidoptiral decline.

We love our more-than-human* neighbors. Can you tell?

*The phrase “more than human” is borrowed from Robin Wall Kimmerer, author of BRAIDING SWEETGRASS and explained nicely here.

Poetry Friday: Grandma Hahn’s Bread

Grandma (Clara) Hahn’s Bread

4 cakes compressed yeast
	Almost a century separates us
	and yet time compresses –
	you are here with me
	in my kitchen.

1 cup lukewarm water
	I cup my hands around the story
	that you once held infant me.

6 tablespoons sugar
	It would have sweetened our lives
	had the car wreck not happened –
	my father anchored by family
	my mother loved as a daughter
	we children connected to ancestors

1 qt. skimmed milk
	but all those possibilities were skimmed away
	like the thick, rich cream
	that rises to the top of the morning milking
	brought straight to the kitchen from the barn.

4 tablespoons shortening
	I made your bread once for Dad,
	attempting to shorten the distance
	that had formed between us.
	It was good, he said, but

about 14 ¼ cups Mother’s Best
	not the same as yours.

7 ½ teaspoons salt
	It’s not the same as yours,
	but this three-rise half-day project
	is as close as I’ll ever get
	to the flavor of your love,
	Grandma Hahn.


© Mary Lee Hahn, 2025

Molly challenged the Inklings to write Hermit Crab poems this month. Think of the form as a poem that climbs into the shell of another kind of writing. A little bit mind-bending at first, but if you find the right “shell,” you’ll be off and writing.

As for the recipe, yes, this is bread I bake every few weeks. I can’t remember the last time we bought bread in a store. And no, I do not bake in that volume! I cut the recipe in half and make two loaves. I use granular yeast, Snowville Creamery whole milk to come close to “skimmed” milk, and I’ve never been able to find Mother’s Best flour, so I make do with King Arthur.

I can’t wait to see what the others came up with this month! Thanks for the great challenge, Molly! Yes, I do realize that this is the second Inkling challenge in a row that has resulted in a bread poem. No, I’m not going for a trifecta, though you just never know…

Here’s what the rest of the Inklings came up with, if life gave them the elbow room this month to write:

Heidi @my juicy little universe
Molly @Nix the Comfort Zone
Margaret @Reflections on the Teche
Linda @A Word Edgewise
Catherine @Reading to the Core

Margaret has the Poetry Friday roundup this week at Reflections on the Teche and this post does double-duty as a Slice of Life post.

Slice of Life: This Day in History

I bought my first 10-year diary in 2001. Each page is the same day through the decade, with about an inch of space to write a snapshot of that day in that year. In 2023, I had to switch to a 5-year diary because the original company folded. In 2028, I’ll likely make my own, because you can probably guess from which online store I ordered the current volume. But I digress. Let’s take a little trip through history and find out what March 5 was like for me for the past 23 years.

2001 PMS. Definitely a lifetime ago.
2002 Proficiency Tests. Which have morphed again and again…
2003 International Day of Poets Against the War. Went to a reading at the UU Church. Good reminder that we’ve never stopped working for a better world. It’s just way closer to home now and way more dangerous.
2004 74°. The bird clock fell. New trauma for Troy. I’m sticking a pin in this one so I can write a whole slice about Troy and/or the bird clock. Stay tuned.
2005 Snow.
2006 Dog play with Bender. This brings back bittersweet memories of our dog Bess and her buddy Bender. Another future slice.
2008 Snow and ice.
2009 Gave up on science and popped popcorn at the end of the day. The push-push-push can wait until next week. Yes, I kept a popcorn popper, oil, salt, and popcorn in my classroom for most of my career. Yes, I often needed the treat and the break from routine as much as my students did.
2010 Took a spinning class at McConnell. Another marker of a lifetime ago.
2013 I hate my job. There were definitely days like that. But luckily, more of the “I love my job” kind.
2014 Signs of spring in the change of light at the end of my 6am walk and in the tornado drill.
2015 I have poems in 3 anthologies: Poetry Friday Anthology for Celebrations, Dear Tomato, and the National Geographic Book of Nature Poetry.
2016 Cake baking day. Maybe I’ll write a slice about the birthday tradition of my three-layer from-scratch chocolate cake…
2017 Waited until 2:00 for the PT to come check for swallowing. Mom was in the ICU. Hard memories. My brother had gone back home. I was in limbo. Six days later, Mom was gone.
2018 Book Club at City BBQ. Elinor Oliphant. So many book club memories! Some of the core group has been together since 1991!
2019 I’ll keep a gratitude journal for Lent. For so many years my college friend and I have cheered each other on as we set goals for Lent. I’m going to pass this year. It’s enough to keep up with the 100 Day Stitchbook Challenge and Slice of Life! I have even quietly let go of the Stafford Challenge. There are only so many hours in a day!
2020 Nothing noted on this date in 2020. One week later, it was announced that schools would shut down.
2021 Lost two more to hybrid. I was an online teacher in 20-21. In the spring after the COVID shutdowns, things were starting to loosen up a bit. Some learners really needed to be back in and in-person setting.
2022 75°
2023 Bluebells are pushing up, there was a bee on one of the new hellebores.
2024 I broke the bathroom glass. I figured it would happen sooner or later. Almost every day I told myself to be careful, that it was risky to have a glass glass on the vanity. This was the day I bumped it and it fell into the sink and shattered. It was a glass that I had snuck out of a bar when I was an undergraduate. Moral of the story: nothing lasts forever.

Which is also the moral of the story of keeping a daily diary of snapshots of life. Except it’s not, really. The moral of the daily diary is that each day and each year have a warp of strands that are core to who we are. This warp is woven with an ever-changing weft of experiences that come and go, making each of us a tapestry.

Slice of Life: Shameless Self-Promotion

40 Poems for 40 Weeks
edited by David L. Harrison and Timothy V. Rasinski
Routledge, 2025

It is a huge honor to have one of my poems living inside this book with poems by so many poets whose work I admire!

This book was inspired by a school librarian who wanted a source for poems that she could share, one a week, in her library. As a bonus, a word play activity — a word ladder — was created to accompany each of the poems. The joy of poetry and the fun of word games, combined! What’s not to love?!?!

In her introduction, Sylvia Vardell, who blogs at Poetry for Children and who, with Janet Wong (Pomelo Books), has worked tirelessly to encourage the use of poetry for developing language skills, lists fifteen solid benefits for sharing poetry with children. One of my favorites is #7 “Poetry has built-in opportunities for choral reading, group presentations, recitals, and performance.” Almost every Friday in my classroom was Poetry Friday. Students would choose a poetry book and a partner (or go it alone), find a poem, practice reading it aloud, then perform for the class. It was a favorite time of the week for the students and a weekly opportunity for me to do informal assessments of oral fluency!

Do you need to get a little more poetry into your classroom EVERY week and month of the year (not just in April)? This is the book for you!

Slice of Life: How to Be a Better Teacher

The first way to be a better teacher is to join Choice Literacy. Even if you just sign up for the Big Fresh newsletter, you will remember that you are not alone, gain a few new tools or insights, and have the courage to keep going. Take it up a notch and write for Choice Literacy. You’re already doing Slice of Life; what’s to be afraid of? My years writing for Choice Literacy made me a better writer AND a better teacher. You’d be amazed what you can learn about yourself and your students when you look through the lens of a writer.

The second way to be a better teacher, and unfortunately this one came about too late for me, but if I’d had it when I was in my early years it would have been a GAME CHANGER for the rest of my career: Sticky Hope.

Sticky Hope is a movement that helps hope stick, even in the toughest, stickiest situations. We provide tools, resources, and straightforward conversations to support healthy emotional regulation and bring calm back to your day.

In their 15-20 minute podcasts, Ruth and Becca are working through all the hardest things about teaching: behaviors. Both kid behaviors and the teacher behaviors — because there isn’t any among us who haven’t had their very own unregulated moments, if we’re being honest with ourselves.

You’re welcome. Now, go forth and keep doing your good-better-best every day. Your work is sacred, and you are appreciated.

Slice of Life March Challenge: Here We Go!

I’m coming to the end of my time as the reading specialist for an after school program. I didn’t have to think very hard about the book I would feature in my final lesson cycle:

Do you know this fable? The forest is on fire and all the animals run away in fear. All except the Hummingbird. She carries single drops of water from the stream to the fire over and over again. Finally, the bear asks her, “What are you doing?” And the Little Hummingbird answers, “I’m doing everything I can.”

If you are feeling bleak about the world these days, read this book with small humans and let them tell you what they know about the ways small actions can add up to a big difference.

Several groups didn’t like that the book ended the way it did. They wanted more. They knew for certain that the Little Hummingbird’s choices were influencing the other animals and that they, too, would get involved and help put out the fire, each using their own talents. “When they work together, they can put out the fire.”

Indeed they can. Indeed WE can.

Poetry Friday: Routine is a Word

This poem could be subtitled, “You Don’t Know What You’ve Got ‘Til It’s Gone.”

After a childhood spent succumbing to and adapting to the routines imposed upon me, I spent the next huge chunk of my adult life creating classroom routines that attempted to balance the things that HAD TO be done, with the things we WANTED to do. Outside the classroom, adulting brought its own set of non-negotiable routines: laundry, trash day, oil changes, bills. Woven into the mandatory adult routines were the self-imposed ones: exercise, writing, reading. Oh, how I longed for retirement and a lifting of the burden of routines.

Spoiler alert…routines don’t go away when you retire. They change. There might be more wiggle room in the schedule, but the shapes of days and weeks and seasons remain.

Then there is the net of great big routines that seems so distant and inviolable that we forget to pay attention. Our democracy. Social services. The never-ending push towards civil rights. Voting. Representation.

These are the things that were on my mind as I sat down to write my ___is a Word poem. How every day seems the same…which can make me grumble even though I lean into the comfort of knowing that the one time of the day the cat loves me best is morning, when he gets his medicines and treats and grooming; if it’s Sunday, I’ll go swim some laps; if it’s summer, I’ll be looking for black swallowtail caterpillars in the fennel. It’s been almost eight years, but I remember the visceral experience of my every routine shattering the way mom’s arm and hip did when she fell, was life-flighted to Denver, wound up in the ICU, and never recovered. And yet, even within those jumbled-up days, I created what routines I could. Which brings us to now, when the net of great big routines called Life As We Know It In The United States is being demolished and we begin to see response routines emerge. I’m not buying anything today. I’m helping to jam congress’ switchboards with calls using the 5 Calls app. I’m donating every month to ACLU. All very safe and easy to add to my regular routines. I was yesterday years old when I sat for two hours in a community stitching circle and heard passionate volunteers tell about what Food Not Bombs and other mutual aid groups are doing to get good food that is headed for the landfill into the hands of those who need it. Work that is and has been being done to push back against broken systems and make an actual tangible difference in the lives of our neighbors.

It’s time for another change in my routines.

Here’s what the rest of the crew came up with:

Liz @ Liz Garton Scanlon
Tanita @ {fiction, instead of lies}
Laura @ Laura Purdie Salas
Tricia @ The Miss Rumphius Effect
Sara @ Read Write Believe

Denise has this week’s Poetry Friday Roundup at Care to Share.

The image is via Wikimedia.

Poetry Friday: Who Is She?

Just for fun, I chose a poem from the archives! This one was written on this day in 2024 for Laura Shovan’s February Challenge. The theme last year was Games.

Laura has this week’s Poetry Friday Roundup at Laura Purdie Salas.

The image is via Unsplash.