Two things stood out for me from the following letter. One was this phrase, "most of my troubles never get to me" and the other was about saving the strawberries. I'm kind of pondering what the phrase about troubles not getting to me means. I'm thinking that it means that the things he worried about didn't happen. Kind of like the quaker phrase, way will open. Some people it seems the other way around, that troubles just keep on finding them. I've been finalizing grades which is interesting end of the semester work. there are often the borderline decisions to make. The truth of it is, I would rather not be giving grades. I did some montessori training in the hope of getting away from grades and then ended up back in a structure which gives grades. I wish we could give a two layered grade, one for effort and work and one for mathematical knowledge and ability. The second would be an indicator of readiness for the next level. I wish this was also available to me as a spanish language student. I passed the course, yet I do not feel I am ready for the next level.
Strawberries, yum. Dad was into fruit. He grew it as a hobby. I guess that my grandparents had grown strawberries as well. Dad grew both stawberries and raspberries and blackberries. I think my favorite was always raspberries. He had these berries he called Suter berrries, they were on the property they bought back in the 50's. He kept a bunch of those going for over 50 years. He bought and started newer hybrids that were big and red and sturdy, but I loved to find the suter berries, small and unpretentious and with more flavor in one berry than a handful of the newer ones. I loved picking berries, which always meant eating quite a few before we ever got our buckets into the house. Dad had made up some hooks that would hook into a bucket (really a cut off milk jug - recycled) and the other end would hook onto our jeans. We would work our way around the berries eating and picking, what a joy. there were not many troubles out in the berry patch.