The end of August, and it’s 96 degrees outside. I’m counting the days to cooler weather. But it is hurricane season. Thankfully, there’s not a lot of action in the Atlantic. Today, the National Hurricane Center’s map shows only one unlikely area of concern. It’s on my mind. After Wilma, we replaced our missing front yard tree with a Bulnesia. Last week we had the roving-tree-trimmers hollow it out in an attempt to save it from harm, should there be a storm. It’s got flowers now—finally. I don’t want to find it sticking out of the neighbor’s roof.
Classes started last Monday at Broward College. My associate dean’s philosophy is to bring repeating students back into the program at the first opportunity after they’ve met the requirements. I don’t disagree. People put their lives on hold to attend nursing school. It’s better for them to attend and succeed or realize the program isn’t the best choice for them. I hate to see students waiting, treading water and drowning in uncertainty about their choices. I’m still a bit shocked at the size of my class. There are an excess of 150 students for the lecture portion. Thankfully, the clinical class is a more manageable 115. (Arggghh. I can’t quite believe I said that.)
My husband and I have watched much of the television coverage of Senator Kennedy’s memorial and funeral. Kennedy had the means to touch many lives and the ability to make a difference. I admit my first thought when I heard that he had died was of his past difficulties. Steve said, “He was a great man.” My response was that he was a great senator. After listening to many of the comments about Kennedy’s deeds, I’m forced to admit, I was harsh. His actions in their totality speak for themselves. If we as less public figures are allowed to live down our indiscretions or wrongful acts, perhaps we should extend the same privilege to his memory.