The Family

Our New Puppies

2009-08-01T06:04:00.001-07:00

Our New Puppies from Stefan Farrenkopf on Vimeo.

Ahhhh, Florida

2009-03-15T18:09:00.000-07:00

Thanks to the wonderful generosity (and company) of Bumma and Grampa, four of the five of us have begun day two of spring break in a resort condo in Orlando. Two days of driving, and an evening at the pool. Leaving the pool, we saw this, captured by Mother's cell phone camera:

Looks farther off than it seemed, and certainly less colorful, but that's the shuttle launch - possibly the very last one. We even saw the boosters fall off. It was an amazing sight to see.

Eldest, meanwhile, is having his adventures in China. It's bright and early there, and we've just gotten word that jet lag plagues the group, but they are off for day of sightseeing in Shanghai.

Cassie's Last Day

2009-02-20T07:59:00.000-08:00

This is a sad day.

Youngest woke up with a fever of 101.6 this morning, meaning we have to cancel his birthday sleepover tonight. As if things weren’t sad enough.

Around Christmas, our dog Cassie started losing a lot of weight. She is getting older, and she had a shoulder injury, so we weren’t too alarmed, though we kept an eye on her.

One morning last week we discovered that she seemed bloated. When home remedies we found on the web didn’t help, I took her to the vet.

After they drained the fluid the vet was able to feel her abdomen.

Cassie has a large tumor in her abdomen, almost certainly cancer. She hasn’t had anything to eat or drink in days. Her digestive system seems to have completely shut down.

There were many tears in the house last night, and many sad but important talks with the kids. Today I’m staying home with Youngest; the others are all at school. Tonight, with the sleepover canceled, we’ll have one more night at home with our dog. Tomorrow I’ll take her for one last walk, and then to the vet. I’ll come home alone.

Winter '08 '09

2009-02-20T07:05:00.000-08:00

I’m sitting at home with a sick seven year old today. We’ve just graduated from Madgascar 2, which was hilarious, and have moved on to Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith. It’s a sad day, which I’ll address in the next post. But I’ve uploaded pictures and want to journal some of what’s been going on with the family.

We've had some big snow-falls this winter.

We visited Lakeside with some close friends, where the kids did some sledding:

And walked on Lake Erie:

On a snow day, Eldest won a ten dollar dare:

We had two birthdays:

We had hot chocolate with good friends:

Someone got her braces off:

And, sometimes, we just got goofy:

Learning Photoshop

2009-01-20T18:58:00.000-08:00

Youngest's New Room

2008-11-17T16:35:00.000-08:00

Dictated by Youngest:

At first my room was really babyish and it had baby paper around the walls. And then we decided to change it.
And the first thing we did was push all the furniture out and then take the wall paper off and then start to paint.

And then we put all the furniture back in and took down the curtain. And then we put all the knick-knacks in and then I think that’s it.

Now my room looks super-hero style. My new poster is all Marvel people.

I like to find super heroes in it.

The end.

Some Shots Of Eldest

2008-11-13T18:49:00.000-08:00

Eldest has had a busy fall. As soon as soccer wrapped up (he was voted "Most Improved" by his teammates), he was asked to join the cast of the fall play, "See How They Run."

Here are some pix from that show and from the fall choir concert.

Teaching Our Children How To Beg (And One How To Campaign)

2008-11-01T06:08:00.000-07:00

The one rule for Halloween this year: we would not be buying costumes. The kids could look around the house and come up with ideas, but we're weren't going to go to crazy- overpriced- no- return- policy- scary- bloody- temporary- Halloween- store to buy anything.

Daughter wore a poodle-skirt that Bumma made for Mother when Mother was in college. Eldest and I dressed as each other, mostly for school.

Youngest came up with his own idea.

"Joe Biden!"

"Really? Joe Biden?"

"I wanna be Joe Biden!"

We thought that was a fantastic idea. "We can even paint your hair white."

"Really?'

"Yeah. That'd be great."

"Then I want to wear a nametag."

"A name tag? Okay. Why?"

"People might think I'm John McCain."

Of course, we had to buy the white hair spray. What luck! I got the very last can in stock at crazy- overpriced- no- return- policy- scary- bloody- temporary- Halloween- store.

After a quick trick-or-treat at Oma's house:

We went to Bumma's neighborhood to trick-or-treat with cousins:

including this incredible cutey on his first Halloween:

Unfortunately, no pix of Prince Caspian or Dale Earnhart Jr., cousins who joined us after cameras were put away.

I did a little research. If you now have as much candy in your house as we have in ours, and similar amounts of self-discipline, the word you'll be looking for in a couple of days is transient lingual papillitis. Enjoy!

Halloween 08

2008-10-31T06:40:00.001-07:00

Eldest and I dressed as each other for school today.

Obama Rally in Dublin

2008-08-31T08:37:00.000-07:00

Yesterday our family went to the Obama/Biden Rally in Dublin with some good friends. After a lunch at the North Market, we headed to Dublin Coffman High School to wait in line. Good company and the good fortune of being the the right spot in line to get to stay in the shade made the 3 hour wait go by quickly.

Once we got inside, it was another 2 hours before the rally actually began. We got lucky again - seats in the bleachers with the sun behind us and a great view of the podium. After speeches by several Ohio Democrats and an introduction by John Glen, Barack Obama and Joe Biden took the stage.

Here is a video clip of the tail end of Obama's speech:

Everyone is still smiling after a long but exciting day.

Oregon Trip Summary

2008-08-19T20:18:00.000-07:00

Lots of time slipped by since the last post, and we are home from Oregon. A trip as great and as full as the one we just took deserves many words, but I’m afraid that waiting for enough time to write a lot will result in not writing in too long.

But, if a picture is really worth a thousand words, then I’ve got 279 thousand word right here. The pictures were mostly taken by Mother and by Misty, who enjoyed their cameras to the extent of over thirteen hundred photos.

A brief summary:

After the time at the coast, including a magnificent walk to Haystack rock – real live starfish! and Ecola parks beautiful views, we spent a wonderful couple of days at Black Butte Ranch, riding bikes on beautiful trails, swimming, exploring a natural spring, and wondering at the scenery. It’s spectacular.

The last days were spent at Roderick and Misty’s home in central Oregon. Before catching our breath we were rafting the rapids of the Deschutes River, with daughter on the bow, or stern, or helm, or whatever the front of the boat is called, and Youngest squealing and yelling and shouting and loving every dip, splash, and minute of it. How many six-year-olds do you know who have gone white-water rafting?

We also enjoyed a wonderful lunch near the top of Mount Bachelor, dipped our toes and hunted for frogs at Todd Lake, and took a breath-taking walk along the Deschutes River.

There were also terrific “down days,” spent watching the Olympics, reading, and knitting, with the kids playing video games, and spending much time on Facebook and Youtube, resulting in a lack of good blogging time for yours truly.

Also in Bend, Oregon: Lots of great food. Lots of great beer.

And the scenery in Oregon never stops taking your breath away, including the great views of the mountains at Roderick and Misty’s new home site.

We had one tough evening, when Eldest fell on one of the every present, ever razor sharp lava rocks. A trip to the urgent care resulted in four stitches in his shin. Traumatic at the time, but he’s fine.

An evening barbecue at our hosts’ home was built around sharing music, and Roderick and I were joined by several of their friends – and their kids - playing and singing in what was a very relaxed, very cool evening. This was fun, but was also preparation for a gig with Roderick and his friend and musical partner Chris several nights later. We played outside a nice, music friendly restaurant, and I was surprised at how excited and enthused people seemed to be to stumble upon live music. I haven’t played out like that in a long time, and while I maybe tried to learn too many songs in just days before the gig, all-in-all it was a wonderful experience, fed by good beer, a beautiful evening, great friendship, good music, and an appreciative crowd that was larger than we expected.

This post does not do the vast entirety of the trip justice, but hopefully the pictures will help with that a bit.

Of all of the wonderful things: the scenery, the adventures, the relaxation, the reading, the luxury, the food, the beer, nothing about the trip came close to the satisfaction we get from the fun, meaningful, and growing friendship between two families two thousand miles apart. It is only through Roderick and Misty’s generosity that this trip happened. They read this blog, and I thank them again for their hospitality and for our friendship.

And the beer. The really good beer.

Day Two On The Oregon Coast

2008-08-04T22:55:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, the first day, was a day of sloth and laziness. And a little bit of shopping.

Today was a great day, but the hour is late and the energy waning, so briefly:

Took big run, almost to the top of Tillamook Head, a cool outcropping into the ocean; fantastic kite flying while mist and fog went out and then came back in, making the bright stunt kite seem almost magical; some reading and hot soup; a bike ride on an old, rusty, woman's bike all over town (first stop: bike shop, for tire air); sand castle wars with plastic army men; crazy attack of a kazillion birds on fish trapped in a tidal pool; an evening walk to a terrific dinner.

An amazing, wonderful, vacationy day all around.

Arrival at the Pacific Coast

2008-08-02T21:48:00.001-07:00

It’s almost too ideal, this moment here, sitting by a fire in a lovely quaint living room, over-sized windows to a sunset on the Pacific, wife with great new haircut doing crosswords over there. Roderick’s wife sitting doing Sudoku puzzles, quietly saying song titles to keep the music going as Roderick just there picks tastefully at a cool, black, graphite acoustic guitar. (A graphite guitar? Da hell?)

“Mr. Lucky,” she requests.

Roderick’s wife does not yet have a blog name. Misty she shall henceforth be.

I write two blogs, which is excessive, yes. One is this one, about my family, and the other is about my creative pursuits and related or not so related topics. It seems this trip may not fit neatly into either category.

What to do? This is clearly a family trip. But there is also a keyboard set up just over there, a barbecue / jam session is scheduled, and a gig with Roderick, a friend of his, and me forthcoming. There is more than a little talk about creativity and music and all of that.

“I Will.”

We woke at 4:00 AM to catch an early flight, stopped a moment in Minneapolis, where I’m pretty darned certain I bumped into Bobby McFerrin, who has had a pretty profound effect on me in a whole lot of ways, but I wasn’t sure enough it was him to say anything. I don’t want to be the white guy who is wrong when he says to the black dread-locked guy "Aren't you Bobby McFerrin?"

“Blackbird.”

We arrived in Portland at 11:00 AM West Coast Time. Our family had an elaborate scheme planned, based on an old, too-hard-to-explain inside joke. So we walked out of the gate with each member of our family wearing a fake mustache. We walked around the corner, and there they were, Roderick, Misty and their two boys, all wearing fake mustaches.

“Crazy Love.”

A terrific meal at Moe’s – believe it, I had never had clam chowder before. This was a very good place to start. I had a cup of clam chowder as an appetizer, then crab stuffed avocado, then a cup of clam chowder for dessert. So I'm not sure what the marionberry cobbler was if the chowder was dessert. I was just surprised that the crack smoking mayor of D.C. could bake so well.

A long walk on the beach to wait for check-in time, and then to the house from which I'm typing just this moment.

“Why Georgia Why.”

I’ve never been to the west coast, and am struck by the different character here. I’ve only been here half of one overcast day, but it seems to me that this end of the county has it all over the other end. I've always loved the ocean, both of them, but while I'm way over here, out of earshot, let's be honest. The Atlantic coast is great, but it just tries too hard. The Pacific just has it the whole beach thing down. It doesn’t try to be a bad ass with how hot it can get, it knows the classy impact of a big land mass here and there, maybe some rocks to break up the sand. You wanna bring a beer or twenty-four down here with you buds, maybe have a fire? 'scool. The Pacific knows you’ll take good care of things; you’re responsible, good folk, after all, and it trusts you. And your dogs. Dogs are cool.

“These Days.”

So, we got here. Beautiful house. We settled in, kids shot pool and tried to fly a broken kite for a while. I had a big self-indulgent run on the beach, and now here we are.

“You’ve Got A Friend”

Eighteen Years

2008-06-30T06:33:00.000-07:00

Today our marriage can finally buy porn and cigarettes.

End of New Orleans, Graceland, and a long drive home

2008-06-27T14:32:00.000-07:00

We've been back from the trip for a couple of days now. The last morning was spent in the French Quarter, after which Eldest and I began the long drive home.

Right here is the complete set of New Orleans service pictures, featuring lots of kids that you don't know.

That morning, I mocked the few students kids who, while in the historic, colorful French Quarter, wanted to eat at McDonalds. That night, on the historic, colorful Beale Street in Memphis, Eldest and I ate at the Hard Rock Cafe.

It was killing me to eat at the corporate rock and roll megachain on the a street filled with real live blues, but alas, not so many places are welcoming to the pre-21 set, let alone the pre-15. There was a live band, and though they were influenced more by the 80s second wave than by B.B. King or early Elvis, Eldest liked them a lot, and they reminded me of a time when The Fixx and Wang Chung dominated my bedroom turntable.

On Beale Steet, we saw this guy, who blew my mind:

The highlight of the trip back was stopping at Graceland, which was much more fun that I had imagined. I've always been more a "mock fat Elvis" than "appreciate cool Elvis" kind of guy, focusing on the bloated excesses of his Las Vegas years than on the whole helped-create-rock-and-roll early years. But Graceland, while, okay, a huge touristy shrine, also gives you a feel of where he came from and what he did. And, then, what he became.

While we were there, no kidding, a car crashed into the Graceland sign.

So now I'm all Elvisy, and there are two Elvis biographies on the counter and a collection of albums and DVDs waiting to be picked up at the library.

This is Eldest and me in Elvis's mirrored ceiling.

It's nice to be back. Daughter, Youngest, and I built a cool fort out of big boxes in the basement, complete with drawbridge. It worked out well that they then wanted to sleep down there the same night we had crazy storms and tornado warnings. Eldest has been attending daily rehearsals for a play he is in, and we've lately we've mixed getting things done with enjoying the lazy days of summer.

N.O. Update: Pier, Rock and Bowl, Deck, Barbecue, Get Smart

2008-06-21T06:04:00.000-07:00

We're leaving the hotel soon for beignets at Cafe Du Monde and some time in the French Quarter, so this will be a quick entry.

Thursday was the first day that Eldest worked with a different crew. He worked with young kids at a head start program. We haven't talked in much depth yet, but he really seemed to enjoy it.

Here are pictures from Thursday, with some from earlier days that I got from a students camera:

Our crew worked on a destroyed pier, mostly because the hosts wanted to treat us to some fishing. We then installed insulation. The evening was a high point of the trip, Rock and Bowl. Live zydeco music, dancing, and bowling.

Yesterday we helped a woman with her back deck, after which she and our hosts threw a huge barbecue to celebrate the week. It was hot - really really hot - but the piles of crayfish, deer sausage, blackened red-fish, jambalya, burgers, and freezer pops made for a great party. We ate like pigs, finished what we could on the deck, cleaned up a bit, and made our not-entirely-tear-free-even-from-the-toughest-guys farewells.

The woman we helped, Miss Shirley, was fascinating, a member of the New Orlean's Zulu Social Club, a group with a long, interesting Mardi Gras history.

Then dinner for 41 (one student left early), and a good rest at a movie, Get Smart, which was darned funny.

A Busy Day

2008-06-19T18:24:00.000-07:00

Youngest is going to help with the text for today's blog entry . . .

We started out our day with a visit to Bumma and Grandpa's to play Wii Fit. Youngest really got into some of the games. His favorite was a balancing game called Tilt Tiles.

Youngest and Bumma picked a bowl of blackberries. Bumma is freezing them until she has enough to make jam.

Binoculars come in handy when you are trying to find blackberries hiding in the middle of the bush.

Youngest found a ton of berries hiding in the middle of the bushes.

It is mini-Bon Bon's birthday today. We had Rotelli's pizza and made funny faces with her.

We bought her a princess crown and jewel earrings and new princess shoes. Scooter had fun playing with mini-Bon Bon's new presents.

So did she.

And Youngest . . .

And even mini-Scooter . . .

They had fun playing with the new chalk.

Youngest made a guy surfing and he went on the fake surf board.

We ended the night with Poker and Blackjack.

N.O. Day 5: The Kids Are Taking Over

2008-06-18T20:49:00.000-07:00

Today the kids took ownership. At one point, one of the kids with us was ripping up some old flooring and need someone to clean up. He called "Who doesn't have a job?"

We looked around and all of the kids were working. Except one of the host kids, a recent graduate. He had worked most of the day laying tile, cutting tile, and, mostly, showing our kids how to work with ceramic flooring. But now he was standing around, because the girls were tiling his room. So this tough, hard-working, well trained, Marine-to-be answered the brand-new freshman. "I'm not." He started walking, looked at me, and said "Those girls have taken over my job."

Another story: During the lunch break, all of the adults: me, the other chaperone, and the two hosts, Bob and Mary, were finishing lunch, and we realized that all of the kids had started working again. We looked at each other.

"Did you tell them lunch was over?"

No one had.

The kids are taking over.

Teaching is one of those weird jobs where your goal is your own obsolescence. We made strides in that today.

Slide show: Day 4 and 5

N.O. Day 4: Re-do; Taking Over; Slide Show

2008-06-18T20:21:00.000-07:00

That last post was an error. The internet at the hotel sketchy, and after writing a pretty long entry, the connection went kablooey, the text was lost, the pictures were posted, and I was late getting to the vans, so I left it as is.

Here's some of what it said.

This is the house we worked on yesterday, and again today:

The woman who lives here rented it for twenty years, saving pennies until she could buy it in 1992. So her whole life is here, and everything she's got. It's a double, but she doesn't rent out the other half so her grandkids can stay there when they need to. She is a poor woman who has only ever known this house, and she wants to live here again.

This is the owner with Bob, the Youth Rebuilding New Orleans organizer:But.

Here's the house across the street:

It seems clear that the owners are gone and they aren't coming back. What will happen to this house? The neighborhood was poor and troubled before. If most of the houses are like this one, and they are, the neighborhood will be a haven for junkies and dealers, and crime will flourish.

Plus, we're tiling the whole house. No carpet, no wood, no linoleum. Tile in every room. Why? Because tile will survive the next flood. The assumption is that there will be another flood.

Should this house be rebuilt? Should the neighborhood? If so, who should pay to built houses that are such a risk? If not, where should these people go?

These aren't easy questions, and the person who discusses all of the sides best is Bob. He sees the need so clearly, but he sees the futility just as clearly. And still he shows up everyday and puts in the hours and the sweat.

And he keeps saying "I don't know the answers. You just gotta show up and do your part." And his big wish is that the high school kids who work with him learn something about the system, because they are the ones who are going to have to come with the answers.

On Safari at the Wilds

2008-06-18T16:27:00.000-07:00

We drove out to the Wilds with Bumma and Grandpa. As you can see from the pictures, it was an absolutely gorgeous day. The animals were very active and we got to see lots of them!

Good Work, Tough Questions

2008-06-18T05:22:00.000-07:00

Daughter is Off to Camp

2008-06-16T15:53:00.001-07:00

While Father and Eldest are doing service work in New Orleans, Daughter is spending a week at Girl Scout Camp. Youngest and I dropped her off in the S. High Street Lowe's parking lot yesterday afternoon for a bus ride to Camp Molly Lauman.

While waiting in line to board the bus, Daughter said several times, "I think I changed my mind. I really don't want to go." I reassured her that she would have an amazing time and would most likely be saying, "I don't want to go home," by the time Friday rolls around. Once her best friend joined her, she seemed OK and ready for the adventure. The girls were excited to get the front seat - and a good view of the television to watch DVDs on the way to camp! Yes, DVDs on the way to camp . . .

Camp should be a great experience for Daughter - horseback riding, campfires, hiking, sports, swimming.

But the mom in me has to admit that I did spend a good part of the night watching weather radar as severe storms rolled through Lucasville, Ohio and wondering just how well platform tents hold up in 50mph gusts . . .

New Orleans Day Three: To work

2008-06-16T14:22:00.000-07:00

After a quick breakfast and lunch-packing, we went off to work. Another chaperone and I took kids to work with Youth Rebuilding New Orleans, a high school based program that tries to rebuild communities by bringing people together. Actually, the whole organization seemd to be the two adults we worked with, Bob and Mary. Bob kept using "we," but it was pretty much him. He trains kids to do a lot of things, including flooring, doors, roofing -everything - though he said a lot of them already know from doing their own houses after the storm.

Bob works on houses, but he sees that as a means to the end of rebuilding communities. For instance, typically, after working on a house, Bob, will have a big barbecue for lunch ("We know how to celebrate down here.") with his crew and with other people from the neighborhood. He's trying to get people to feel that their old neighborhoods are homes again. He doesn't do that in the summer - his student crews are too small. Our group is here to help him keep the work going while his students are less available.

One of the things that he thinks is most important is a garden in front of the house. Bob said that you can do everything you can to a house (and he and his students do), but a woman won't feel it's her home until she has her garden. (Also, I suspect he was looking for work that was good for our kids' first day skill level.)

We drove a short tour of the neighborhoods so the kids who see the importance of the work. We then went to one house and added a front garden. This was a great experience, as the family was there, working with us. After lunch and some basketball at a local school, we worked at another house, planting another garden and moving the sod to a bare patch in the yard. At both places many people approached Bob about getting help for their yards or houses. Bob said one of the best things about working with kids is that the neighbors are more likely to come forward and ask for help if they need it. Again, bringing people together.

Bob had much to say - he is quite a talker - about New Orleans and about what he is trying to do. Part of his mission is to change the culture, to get the kids to take responsibility and leadership for their own city. He said some tough, honest stuff on this topic, as did the kids who work with him. They do a lot, but not with blinders on, and it seems they are trying to address even the big, cultural issues that made rebuilding tough. For instance, we left the first house a bit undone. Bob told me he did that on purpose. He wanted the kids who lived there to finish the job so they could have that pride and that sense of ownership.

Bob works as a guidance counselor at a local high school, and three of his students helped out and led the team. Two of them were recent graduates, and I asked them what they were doing after high school One is going to join the Marines, and the other hopes to be a firemen. After we came back to the hotel to shower and get some relief from the oppressive heat, they were going off to do roofing.

Our kids learned a lot about service. From kids.

So did I.

Our students seemed gratified, appreciated, and satisfied with a day of hard work. We got a lot done in a little bit of time; Bob insisted on long breaks, and he knows what he's doing. He said in this heat the kids won't have enough energy for a full week if we don't get them out of the sun often.

A good first day. Some sunburns, lots of water, one pretty serious eyeful of dirt, and a lot of heat, but we returned to the hotel with satisfied, tired, very dirty kids.

Tonight we're going to a church to watch a slide show and talk to a local pastor about the rebuilding efforts. Tomorrow I return to Youth Rebuilding New Orleans, but I think with a different group of kids. It was fun today to work with my own kid. I don't know if that will happen again (I'm not so good with schedules) but I'm glad he'll get other experiences as well.

Here's a slide show of the day:

New Orleans Day 2: Dad Vs. Mr.

2008-06-15T21:05:00.000-07:00

After another couple of hours of driving, in which I am convinced that the large yellow "School Transportation" sign saved me from a ticket, Eldest and I unloaded at the hotel and strolled the French Quarter, settling for a nice bar/cafe (Micky's, maybe?) where I had crayfish ettouffe and he had jambalaya. Cuz we in Nawlins!

Picking up 39 other folks at the airport, getting luggage, renting vans, getting folks to the hotel - it was work, after which we had dinner at Mus-something, where the family had eaten not long ago when we were here on spring break. Then the kids had some freedom: 2 hours of wandering time (with strict borders: Canal St., Bourbon St. [and not on Bourbon without an adult] Espanlade St., and the Mississippi River, which I can spell with one "i").

That's when the Dad in me and the Mr went all gamma. Mr. played the role of Bruce Banner - he trusted his students, knew they would be fine and would call if they had an problems. Dad was all "Dad smash!" No way would big irrational dad let his newlyish 14 year-old son loose with friends in the French Quarter. But Eldest is here as a student, not a son, and no one else is here with his dad. Well, only one other kid.

I fought the urge to check up on him more than several times. Hooray for Bruce Banner. 2 hours without incident.

We were all to meet at the cannon across from Jackson park at 9:00. I get there with about six kids and another chaperone, and it looks like everyone else is there. I look for Eldest. Missing.

I look for his friends. Not there.

They are the only ones not there.

I can't decide if I'm more angry that he put me in the awkward position of having to scold him and his friends, embarrassed that he and his friends, the youngest on the trip, are the only ones who missed the first deadline, or just worried.

Eldest, don't make me angry. You wouldn't like me when I'm angry.

But I decided that I shouldn't call him.

I have another chaperone call him instead. I ask her to be firm. And she is.

And they come walking (but quickly) from Cafe Du Monde with cups of iced coffee and new t-shirts. I start writing me "talkin' to" in my head. This is analogous to my eyes turning bright green.

And as they approach the group, the chimes at St. Louis church start ringing. It's nine o'clock. They aren't late at all.

It turns out that they only went to the cafe after they arrived at the check-in, and no one else was there yet.

Good kids.

Lighten up, Dad.

Lesson learned.

New Orleans Trip Day One

2008-06-15T06:11:00.000-07:00

Not much to report when we're still on the road, but the long drive yesterday went well. A lot of iPod shuffle play, a lot of This American Life and Wait Wait Don't Tell Me. Eldest and I are getting along great and having fun.

We're holed up in a Comfort Inn in Meridian, Mississippi (which I can spell with one "i.") Outback Steakhouse last night, followed by The Incredible Hulk, a fun movie for a couple of super hero geeks like Eldest and myself. Highlights were the hints about how Captain America is going to play out, and, for me, a couple of nice tributes to the series I loved as a kid. Oh, yeah, and Hulk smashing stuff.

Highlight of the drive, other than the joking around, was listening to "The Last Lecture" with Alex. That's that lecture by the dying professor that is causing such a stir - like, three million hits on the YouTube, a visit with Oprah, a book. I put it below. I had been wanting to watch it for a long time; folks I respect wrote that it is more than just sentimental. So I found it on iTunes and downloaded it for the trip. It wasn't quite what I thought it was, but it is good for a drive. Parts of it really did move me, and Eldest seemed interested and touched by it. Didn't lead to a lot of good talk though, but that's fine. I'm glad we heard it, and I'm glad we heard it together.

See? Not much to report. But good free internet at this hotel, so what the heck.

Off to a free continental breakfast. I love those big plastic cereal dispensers. It so satisfying way that Frosted Flakes crunch when you turn that wheel.

Off To New Orleans

2008-06-14T05:22:00.000-07:00

Summer family things have been happening. Remind me to write about cheesecake, and "Sad Song," and Dr. Jabba's Cult of Straight Teeth. But right now, Eldest and I are off to New Orleans for a week of service. If I have internet access at the hotel, I'll try to post updates here.

Talent Show, Middle and Lower School Closing, '08

2008-06-05T13:18:00.001-07:00

Here are some performances and photos from the end of the school year.

Some photos of Eldest's closing ceremony. It looks like a graduation, it feels like a graduation, it smells like a graduation, but it's only a bunch of kids moving from eighth grade to ninth grade, so don't dare call it a graduation. It's a closing ceremony.

And, finally, a different version of the video. A friend sent me a clip of his daughter singing at school, asking whether she was as good as he thought she was. She's pretty good, and I told him I thought so. Then I sent him this video of my kids:

Captain Underpants

2008-05-27T19:22:00.000-07:00

The best part of my day today was taking Youngest to the "P" section, for Pilkey, to pick out a new Captain Underpants book. Cuz it turns out, if you like a book, and you go to the library, sometimes they have lots of books like that.

And I had forgotten how exciting that is. Until Youngest showed me.

You know why? Because he can read, that's why. He's a bad-ass reading mo-fo, and he knows it.

Daughter Fencing

2008-05-23T06:46:00.000-07:00

Daughter wields a sword these days, an effective negotiating tool when asked to clean her room.

Pics: What We've Been Up To

2008-05-21T19:49:00.001-07:00

Happy family photos with cheesy captions!

Youngest singing at assembly.

Eldest started track this year, and loved it. He's the one in the white shirt with the maroon stripe.

Special friends day. The guy on the left is special. Not in a short bus sort of way.

Eldest with his confirmation sponsor. Sponsorship is like Catholic NASCAR: Unkin J will guide Eldest in the preservation of his eternal soul, and Eldest will wear Unkin J's logo on his unitard whenever he goes to mass.

Daughter and Best Friend before their band concert.

Why he's spoiled.

A new garden in the yard. We're growing smiley kids, though the big one on the right needs more sun.

Taken just before he devoured her head in one bite.

A Teenager’s Perspective of Rock on the Range

2008-05-18T09:49:00.000-07:00

Eldest the Headbanger attend an all-day rock festival yesterday with a friend and the friend's dad. Here's his review.

Rock on the Range turned out to be a hard rock lover’s must-attend event of the decade. Even if you came across a band you had never heard of, there was plenty of head banging and dancing to do. Music was always playing, even in between main band sets as lesser-known bands had a smaller stage of their own. And for those of us who were too lazy to get up and go to the smaller stage, classic rock songs would play during the forty- minute set-ups.

Let’s start with the lesser-known bands. I only went to see a couple of them, but the definite stand out was Theory of a Deadman. The crowd went crazy with their awesome set, and they were better than some of the main bands. Theory was so good, that I bought a T-shirt on the spot. This band definitely deserves to be invited back next year as a main act, and get a taste of the bid stage.

To the main stage: I got to the concert to late to see Finger Eleven, but I’ll give them the benefit of the doubt, despite the fact that their two biggest songs are “One Thing” and “Paralyzer”. “One Thing” is a slow song, maybe better suited for a not-so-hard-rock concert, and “Paralyzer” has an edge, but is simply not a head banger at all.

Shinedown rocked hard, and received a great reaction from the crowd. Unfortunately for them, however, Killswitch Engage got their chance next. The hilariously, obscenely inappropriate band rocked the hardest of any band that had been seen yet. As the lead singer forced a mosh pit among the field-dwellers, the crowd’s excitement peaked.

Next up was Serj Tankian, who was not as exciting as expected, but still made his set worth our while. Sadly, though, he seemed to be more of a comedian than a rocker. And although his music was good, he seemed to be a little too liberal, screaming anti-Bush and government messages in between songs.

Staind was one of the disappointments of the concert, playing boring slow song after boring slow song. Their attempts to redeem themselves were almost a success with harder songs, but they still weren’t enough.

After Filter played their small secondary set, the highlight of ROTR roared onto stage with “Fear.” Disturbed was by far the best of all of the bands, and the crowd let them know. At one point, lead singer David Draiman screamed, “Show me those F*[edit by Father]ing fists,” a sign for all of us infected with “The Sickness” to put up our fists to symbolize one of their hits, “Ten Thousand Fists.” As Disturbed played great song after great song, the song the crowd had been waiting for finally came. Disturbed rocked “Down With The Sickness” harder than anything I’ve ever seen. The worst part of the concert, yes worse than Staind, was watching disturbed walk off the stage.

Stone Temple Pilots were actually a huge let-down, and it came to the point where it seemed leaving during their set would give you more traffic problems than leaving after them. The lead singer looked like a skeleton, having just gotten back from rehab, yet he moved around like an octopus. Their energy just didn’t transfer to me the way they wanted it to. If placed in order of rocking, least to most, the bands (I saw) should have been lined up like this: Staind, STP, Serj Tankian, Shinedown, Killswitch Engage, Disturbed.

To sum this concert up in one weird mismash sentence: Killswitch on the Shiny, Disturbed, Deadman.

High Tech vs Low Tech

2008-04-18T12:01:00.000-07:00

My brother and I had an email exchange this week. The point - how best to help our dad, Opa, deal with his increasing deafness - quickly devolved into the one-up-manship that has long defined our relationship.

My brother thinks we should get Oma and Opa a laptop, so Oma can type to Opa. This is a bad idea; they are no good with technology, and a white board would do the same thing. I wrote as much.

To which he wrote:

When are you going to stop fighting technology? It's here to stay --
even you Mac guys need to admit it.

To which I wrote:

Agree. You should write a speech about that, film yourself giving that speech, burn it to a DVD, and send it to mom and dad to watch.

My point being, Oma and Opa can't even work their DVD player. What would they do with a laptop?

To which he replied:

Sorry --

Could you please write that on a white board, take a picture, and mail
it to me?

To which I replied:

To which he replied:

To which I replied:

To which he replied:

You win!

Daughter's Better Than You and Other Schmaltz

2007-10-17T17:04:00.000-07:00

Okay. I haven't been blogging lately. Actually, I'm surprised you are here. Hello!

There's a story I want to record tonight, and that reminded of other things I've been wanting to add here. So here are a few stories from our family.

Youngest did two things the other day that continue to qualify him for "cutest kid in the world," which he is.

Here's one.

I found a buckeye tree on my run and I stuffed a bunch of buckeyes in my pockets for the kids. (So for the rest of the run, my shorts kept sliding down. The dog looked embarrassed.) At home, I called Daughter and Youngest and I dumped the buckeyes on the table. Eldest is not so interested in buckeyes, though he is quite interested in Buckeyes. Capital B.

Anyway, lots of interest and mild fun ensued as they cracked open and explored buckeyes and, I don't know, did stuff with neat looking shiny nuts. For a couple of minutes. Then Daughter scampered off. Okay, I can't guarantee that she scampered. But she went away. Happy-like.

At this point, I'm into the newspaper, and Youngest is next to me, looking at a buckeye. He gently scratched the pale little top part of a buckeye, looked at me, and quietly asked, "Dad, is this really peanut butter?"

Hee hee.

The other little story:

Youngest fell asleep on the couch. I hauled him upstairs, he was just a lump, and I sort of murmured nice daddy things, more to myself than to him, he's asleep, all the way up the stairs. I put him in his bed and just sort of murmured "You going to have nice dreams?" and he mumbled "Yes, please."

Cute!

So, we're well into Schmaltzville. It's parenthood. Whadaya gonna do?

Here's what I really wanted to write down. It's more schmaltz. But it's true.

Both Daughter and Eldest took class trips this week. Eldest is still in D.C. I'm hoping he'll add some of his stories here when he gets back. About Daughter:

Daughter got back from an overnight field trip to Greenfield Village, an historical site in Michigan where kids look at Henry Ford memorabilia and they laugh at pigs and pose friends in front of fountains and eat Rice Krispie Treats for lunch.

Some less happy stuff for context: Daughter hasn't been very happy at school lately. The transition to middle schoolhas been a little rough. (5th grade is middle school at The School. Another issue.) So we were really hoping Daughter would have a great time on this trip.

And she did. At dinner tonight she talked and talked about the trip. We took her out for Mexican - she loves Mexican, and Eldest hates it, so with him out of town, we thought "Hey, we'll take Daughter out for Mexican!" and she was so excited! She ordered chicken fingers.

Okay, so we had given Daughter some money for souvenirs, and at dinner we asked her if she bought herself anything. She got really quiet and a little sad. Not a lot. Just a bit less excited. I asked her what was wrong, and she made it clear that she did not want to answer in front of her little brother. Also, I was an idiot for asking in front of Youngest. Dad, how could you be so stupid? You are a big dumb stupid idiot for asking me to answer that in front of Youngest. She said all this with a glance, reassuring me that she will be a proficient teenage daughter in just three years.

At dinner, my job became to distract Youngest.

I distracted Youngest, which is really really hard ("How's your root beer, Youngest?" "Really good." "Good.") while Mother and Daughter hid behind a menu and Mother got the full story.

Okay. Here's the deal. My daughter is awesome. She is, probably, better than you. She might even be better than me.

Just kidding. She is waaaaaay better than me. So just imagine how much better than you she must be.

Here's why she was sad:

Daughter had had some pocket money left. A little more than $8.00. So she bought two candy sticks, a little Oscar Meyer Weinermobile whistle, and a cheap necklace with a small Civil War bugle pendant.

Those are tiny things. That's because she spent eight dollars on a Greenfield Village decorated souvenir baseball. Cool!

Okay. Listen. Daughter is not all that into baseball. The baseball souvenir? She bought it for Youngest. The candy sticks, our favorite flavors, were for me and for Eldest. The whistle was for Mother (Mother has a thing for the Weinermobile. Really. Always has. Excuse me, Mother? Sigmund Freud on line one for you.) Daughter ran out of money before picking out anything nice for herself. She only had enough money left for the cheap little pendant.

Daughter was a little sad at dinner because while talking about the trip, she realized what a great time she had, but she didn't really get herself anything (much) to remember the trip. This had not occurred to her while shopping.

I'm convinced that I would have been touched by this even if they used a lower quality tequila in the margaritas.

I was very touched by this.

There's a happy ending, though, and it's not this: Daughter gave the ball to Youngest and Youngest is so happy that Daughter feels fine about the whole thing. Maybe you would have let that happen, and maybe that would have been the right choice, but you weren't there, and you hadn't had a margarita and some really good chicken cooked with spicy sausage and cheese sauce.

Here's what really happened: I told Daughter not to worry, that we had spoiled Youngest a bit while she and Eldest were away (true) and had gotten him two new toys for no reason (also true) and that the baseball will look great on her bookshelf, and every time she sees it there she will remember her great trip to Greenfield Village, even if she's not that into baseball.

"I'm not asking," I said. "I'm telling you this." And she was relieved.

When we got home, Youngest couldn't wait to show Daughter his new Spider-man and Goblin action figures, and he thought his new candy stick was delicious, though perhaps not his favorite flavor.

Back To It

2007-08-23T12:46:00.000-07:00

I love the first day of school.

I love how everybody is at their best, imagining the best year ever ahead. I love how no one has been graded by anyone yet, and we all feel like we're in this together, and we're happy to see each other again. On the first day of school, I'm on my game. I could teach anything to anyone. I could teach bricks to float.

There is a tradition at The School on the first day. The whole school gets together on the quad, even if, like today, the temperature is 400 degrees above sun level, with the humidity of a day-long diaper, and we listen to some words from the Head and from the student council president. It's nice, actually, and every year I look through the crowd until I find each member of The Family: Mother, wrangling her Kindergarteners,; Eldest, looking cool in the way that eighth graders have to, which he pulls off pretty well, I think, but not so cool that he won't acknowledge his dad with a smile and a nod, I love him for that; Daughter, new Middle Schooler, sitting perfectly straight and on the edge of her seat, because her heart is so big that on her first day of middle school she is thinking about Youngest, and she is so excited for him.

That's because on the first day, each Kindergartener, and Youngest is a Kindergartener now, gets walked to his or her classroom by a senior. It's a great tradition, but it's no small thing for a five year old to get up in front of 1000 people and take the hand of a stranger. Some of the kids get two senior buddies - it's a math thing, you wouldn't understand. And Daughter was perched so straight and tall, excited to see her brother do the walk that she did years ago, and Eldest years before that. My armpits were damp, my brow was dripping, and my heart was warm.

"Drops of Jupiter"

2007-06-13T19:57:00.000-07:00

So.

The last week of school was Eldest's talent show. Eldest performed twice.

The video camera I had was unreliable, and my attempts to film his first act failed. And I had to get back to work. Fortunately, I work at the same school.

So I was able to run back to the theater after an event in the Upper School just as Alex was taking the stage to sing. And this time, the camera worked! I got the whole song on video. Hooray!

A week or so later, we babysat for our niece and nephew. And the niece was being sooooo cute with our dog! You should have seen her. Oh wait! You can! I grabbed the video camera. Quick! It's a baby and a dog! This could end any minute. No time to check the tape! Of course it is cued up and ready!

I filmed it! I got it!

And I filmed right over Eldest's song.

So, the video here is every single frame that remains of Eldest singing "Drops of Jupiter" in the talent show, and some of the video I made while destroying the record of that particular memory (with some extra video from later in the day, too.)

Four minutes and thirty-seven seconds. Would contain outstanding vocal performance, but doesn't. Does contain dangerously infectious pop music, gratuitous cuteness (baby, toddler, youngster, tween, and dog), and some serious anti-hygenic ickiness the likes of which some may find disturbing, especially those who asked us to babysit, which might teach them a lesson but we hope not.

edit: video removed from Google video, probably cuz I used a copywritten song.

Catching Up

2007-06-11T18:28:00.000-07:00

The end of the school year has kept us quite busy of late. One thing you missed was Eldest's birthday. He wanted nothing as much as a cell-phone. Mother and I went to Verizon to see if, maybe, we could add him to our plan. Maybe. Though we are somewhat philosophically opposed to middle-schoolers with cell-phones. Well, to add him to our plan would mean upgrading our plan too much, so that was a no-go. But, good news! We were eligible for new phones!

So, let's review: Eldest wants a cell phone more than anything else for his birthday. We leave the house to go birthday shopping for him. We come home with new cell phones. For ourselves.

Once again, the "Parents of the Year" award slips through our fingers.

But it is fun to have a camera phone, and on this entry are a bunch of pictures I snapped with the new phone, as well as one or two from our more conventional digital camera, and a video Bon Bon took of the kids dancing at Arts Fest with her phone. As I watch the battery on my laptop dwindle, I'm just slopping these pictures up here in no particular order, so let's call it a matching game. See if you can match the image to the caption. Fun!

1. Video of the kids jammin' with Scooter and Bon Bon's daughter to the reggae sounds of The Ark Band at Arts Fest.

2 & 3. Youngest with his teachers on his very last day as a Pre-K-er.

4. Daughter enjoying the pool party to celebrate the end of fourth grade.

5. Eldest studying for exams. This was actually a really nice time, as he and I sat at a coffee shop for hours. He studied Chinese while I graded exams.

- -

-

6. Youngest - Yippee! - leaving his daycare for the very last time.

7. Youngest looking cool with his newest past-time, Super Mario on GameBoy.

8. Daughter and Youngest enjoying mall-food and discussing the philosophical implications of string theory.

9. Youngest keepin' it real with a mall-fountain enema.

Summer, baby!

Youngest: Soccer Star

2007-06-03T09:48:00.001-07:00

Much has happened to keep me from blogging of late, including the end of Youngest's Very First Soccer Season. Video below.

Youngest's coach bears a striking resemblance to television's popular Tina Fey, former SNL-er and writer and star of the hit show 30 Rock. Long-time readers of this blog, if there were any, might see some cause for concern in this, considering Father's opinion regarding the lovely Ms Fey. No need. I am fully in command of any silliness this resemblance might cause, as this video will fail to disprove.

Dog Stories

2007-05-23T08:10:00.000-07:00

Two of my seniors created an audio-documentary as a final project for my class, and they gave me permission to share it here. If you are a dog lover, you'll enjoy it.

I couldn't get the player to embed in this blog, so if you'd like to download it, click here. I'm only able to get it to work as a download.

It is an audio-documentary in the style of the NPR program This American Life and lasts about a half hour. It's a nice listen-to on a drive.

One segment of the documentary is me talking about our dog, Casserole.

And another is an old friend discussing the loss of his beloved Blocker.

I can't help but think that they would have been friends.

The two students got an A on the project, by the way. Here's my evaluation:

Hey there.

Nice nice work on the audio documentary. You exceeded my high expectations, and the significant concerns that I had never came to bear.

I'll start with my concerns:

Initially, you recall, I had intended not to approve your project. It was unclear to me how a presentation on dog psychology would fulfill an assignment that is meant to tell the story of a life. But, in the proposal presentation, you tied it to the family model from Mr. A's class by planning to write a mock sit-com. With dogs. Well, okay. I approved it with warnings and reservations.

Then, things started to shift, and most of what you used to justify the authenticity of the assignment fell away: The research into dog psych, the connection to the sit com / family model. What was left was stories about dogs. Interesting, yes, but again the connections to the class were getting pretty unclear.

At this point, it was pretty late in the game, so changing was not an option. I held my breath. I sensed that what you were creating had quality and integrity, I just wasn't sure how it suited the course itself.

But it really did. Listening to the documentary, it became clear that what was being reported on were stories of life, or, more accurately, stories of identity, which is really what is at the heart of the course. These stories, while about dogs on the surface, are actually about how people define their own identities through their dogs. This could seem accidental, but I'm sure it occurred because you edited with a theme in mind. And you ended up with a more authentic and in-depth exploration of identity than many students who approached the assignment more traditionally.

Of course, it helps a great deal that the final product is of such high quality. I would not have discovered the theme had I been distracted by audio noise, a poor mix, sloppy editing, or careless music choices. Your skill in recording, editing, selecting and using music paid off. You chose and excellent model in This American Life, and you emulated that show's technical excellence while establishing a different context (especially with the risky but excellent decision to eliminate a host.)

One of my great regrets with this course is that we didn't have the time or the means to publish the projects publicly. I would like all of them to have a greater forum, but especially yours. The idea is fresh and original (and risky), the content is funny and moving and meaningful, and the execution is outstanding. You should both be very proud that rather than a senior cruise you took a senior expedition and discovered some wonderful stuff, in stories and in your potential. I'm proud of both of you.

A

A personal aside: Because you are my students, and because my story and the story of a close friend are included, I would like to post your documentary as a podcast on my family blog. I would need the permission of both of you to do that. Thanks.

Youngest On The Playground

2007-05-21T06:57:00.000-07:00

What would you do, if there was a half hour to kill before your big brother's choir concert and you were hanging out at school and your dad had a video camera with him?

I'll tell you what you'd do. You'd show off all the cool stuff you can do on the playground, that's what you'd do.

That's what Youngest did.

This video is three minutes and forty-six seconds of cuteness, with some falling down and one boo-boo. Also, gratuitous silliness.

Mormon-looking Lorax Haters

2007-05-18T05:04:00.000-07:00

Here's a tip:

If three guys sporting haircuts and ties show up on your doorstep, and they don't ask you if you've accepted Jesus Christ as your personal lord and savior, then chances are you're going to lose some trees.

At least, that's what happened to us.

We knew when we moved in that only part of the wooded area behind our home was a buffer, and that someday development would take a lot of the trees down. Well, the men in ties were the Silver Surfer to progress's Galactus (super geek reference!)

As the philosopher once said, "And the trees are all kept equal / by hatchet, axe. . . . aaaaaaand saw!" (super geek reference number two!)

It could be worse: There is a forty foot tree-buffer preserve that they can't touch. Also, they are not building a meat packing plant. (Could be better: They are not building a joint women's prison / car-wash.)

(That would be a great movie.)

(Tarantino, maybe.)

What are they building? In our backyard?

Here's a hint: after thirteen years of delivering kids to various daycares, the last year of which required Mother or I to leave work every day to drive Youngest twenty minutes away, we are now three weeks away from never ever needing a daycare again.

Guess what they're building in our backyard?

I'm not complaining. We'll still have a nice yard. We'll still have some trees. And the new daycare will add a lot of traffic, but not an additional driveway, because it will share the driveway with the nursing home that is already there. Between the two of them, it'll be like bookends to the life cycle. And the little kids sure will get a kick out of all the emergency vehicles!

Middle School Choir Concert

2007-05-15T20:29:00.000-07:00

Tonight was Eldest's choir concert. Some highlights are below.

The video is about 5 minutes long, and nobody falls down or anything. Still, it's nice.

Oh, also, throughout the video my children - specifically Youngest and Eldest, but not Daughter, I don't think - are referred to by alternate names. These names are bizarre and inexplicable. Please disregard.

Scooter and Bon Bon

2007-05-15T07:13:00.000-07:00

When Mother and I were looking to buy a new house, I had a few priorities. I wanted to be close to the school that our whole family attends. I wanted mature trees in the backyard. I wanted a front porch.

Well, we got a house that's close to the school – it’s a bike-ride away, or a good-sized walk. And we got the mature trees in the backyard, and I love them, though many of them will be leaving soon. (Actually, I’m typing this on the back deck, at 8:16, despite what the blog clock will tell you, and my favorite evening sunshine is hitting the trees in my favorite way. I try to get myself out here for that sunlight as often as I can.)

Okay. So I’ll tell you about the trees later.

First the porch.

I wanted a front porch because of my good friend Pat the Cat (full disclosure: he’s not really a cat.) and the stories he would tell about his neighborhood. P. t. C. lives in the kind of neighborhood I dreamed of, the kind where you get home from work, you stand on the driveway for a little while talking to the neighbor, and then another neighbor shows up with a couple of beers, and the kids are playing in the yards and the cul de sac, someone brings some food, and before you know it it’s, like, midnight, and everybody is happy and laughing and having a good time.

See? That’s a neighborhood. And I think that one of the things that creates that sense of neighborhoodliness is front porches. Pat the Cat’s neighborhood has front porches. People see each other.

Well, we bought a house. This was, what, five years ago? Six? Something. Nice house, but no front porch and not much of a neighborhood. (True story: Before we bought the house, I drove around to see if there would be friends for our kids. Imagine. I was in beat-up car, and I drove up to some lady, and though I know her now, at the time I was a creepy stranger, and I asked “Hey, are there any kids in this neighborhood?” I’m sure they were thrilled to see me move in.)

We don’t really know many of our neighbors very well, and I think that is, in part, due to the fact that no one hangs out in front, where people walk by. Everyone gets home, vacuum seals themselves in with their electric garage doors, and only goes outside, if ever, only in the back yard, where the trees are nice but won’t drink beer with you.

After living in the house for a couple of years we had met a couple of our closest neighbors, but there’s a curve in the cul de sac, and we didn’t know anyone around the curve. It’s a small curve, but it’s enough that you don’t see folks when they’re mowing their lawns and stuff. Anyway, I was in the front yard, and a neighbor walked by, we’ll call him Domino. I sort of knew Domino from church. Okay. So Domino walks by, and we’re talking. This was during the ’04 presidential campaign. We were laughing, cuz he had put a Bush sign in his yard, the first in the neighborhood, and so I got a Kerry sign, and the next day he had about twenty Bush signs in his yard. That was funny.

So we’re chatting, and another neighbor drives by, and he stops, because he knows Domino really well. Their kids go to school together. But he lives on the bulbous part of the cul de sac, way past the curve, so I didn’t know him at all. We’ll call this guy, umm, Oral. Okay. So Oral stops, and I’m liking this, because I like to know neighbors, you know? New friend, maybe. I’m thinking about going inside and grabbing a few beers. But then Oral tells me something that I didn’t know.

He notices the sign in my yard, and he informs me – with no irony here, he is not kidding – that if John Kerry wins the election, it will. . .

Ready for this?

It will usher in the Apocalypse.

Yes. Indeed.

And then he starts talking about the end times, and he’s quoting Revelations and stuff. This may not be news to you, but it sure was to me, that when ancient John was in his robe and sandals, sitting in the desert heat writing about beasts and fire from heaven, he was writing about the 2004 election in the U. S. of A.

Oral knows Domino and I are Catholic, so he avoids the whole thing about how Catholics are damned to hell for sure. Mostly he just bemoans the fact that I’ll be voting to support the end of all life on earth.

I’m okay with not having a front porch.

Since then, though, we’ve gotten to know some of our neighbors. We still know Domino, and next door there are Mr. and Mr. Neighbor, we went to a crazy party there once. Oh, twice. And we know the folks across the street, and the new guy next to them seems cool and beer-and-barbecuable. And there is the requisite old lonely guy who backs into other people’s cars and who everyone helps out by shoveling his snow or calling 911.

And next to the old guy, there at the corner, live our favorite neighbors, our very good friends. Here, I will call them Scooter and his lovely wife, Bon Bon.

With the arrival of Scooter and Bon Bon three years ago, I got the neighborhood I'd always wanted.

We met them shortly after they moved in. I was mowing the lawn, and they walked over to say hi, and I invited them in for a beer, and they left at three AM.

Since then, we have shared many beers and nights on the deck and martinis and margaritas and holidays. We watched them become a family of three. Their kid loves our kids and they love our kids and we love all of them and even our dogs are best friends, how cool is that?

We love Scooter and Bon Bon. They are family.

The other night, Saturday, I was out front fixing the mailbox. (Okay. About the mailbox. Fixing it had been on my to-do list ever since I broke it. I broke with the moving van. When we moved in. So I’m not so good at working through my to-do list.)

Scooter comes over with a beer. I like beer, and mostly I like good beer. But what is it about a free Bud Light on a beautiful afternoon when you're working in the sun? I'm no beer snob, much. It was freakin' delicious. And I totally did not get paid for that endorsement.

Mother was out of town.
(Me: “Welcome home, honey! I fixed the mailbox! With new brass numbers!”

Her: “Wow, honey! That looks terrific! Let’s have sex!”

Only through such delusions do chores get done at all.)

The kids were riding around the cul de sac on Razor scooters. That one delicious beer was followed by another, and then pizzas, and then Margaritas. This occurred over a long period of time. Drink responsibly! It was a perfect neighborhood night.

Have you every ridden a Razor Scooter? Razor Scooters are crazy fun. Another free endorsement. And our cul de sac is a bit of a hill, so you can really get going fast.

We were having Razor Scooter races. At one point, we even pulled out a roll of toilet paper for a finish line. Youngest won that one.

Look at my dog there. She's awesome.

At another point, Scooter pretended to fall, and he didn’t move, and his poor almost-two-year-old daughter completely freaked out, screaming “Daaaaady!” and crying, thinking he was dead. Fun!

After she went to bed, my kids took turns reenacting that scene.

Scooter and Bon Bon have the kind of relationship in which they pretend to be annoyed with each other all the time, but actually they adore each other and take care of each other in a way that is sweet and beautiful and maybe even borders on cute. It’s nice. Like this: whenever Bon Bon was riding a Razor, Scooter was a little nervous.

The three of us, Scooter, Bon Bon, and me, went to the top of the hill. We were going to race. the kids were quite excited.

I assumed Scooter and I would be holding back, because he had been a littl nervous about Bon Bon riding. Cute. (Plus, I thought it would be fun to watch Bon Bon.) But when the kids yelled “Go!” from down the street, Scooter took off like a shot.

My competitive instinct took over. We left Bon Bon in our dust and raced down the hill. We were flying. Somewhere, miles away, animals tilted their heads at the sound of our distant sonic boom.

It became clear, as we approached their mailbox / finish line, that I was not going to catch up to Scooter. He was going to win the race.

Then he did something a little, um, I dunno. Stupid, maybe?

He turned up Old Guy’s driveway. Actually, at this point, he was looking pretty slick.

But then he hit the turf.

Then he flew for a little while.

Then he planted his face in the sidewalk.

At this point, it was not funny. Scooter wasn’t moving. I admit, I was a little scared. I ran over to him (to be clear – this was AFTER I crossed the finished line)

(To be clearer, the finish line was RIGHT THERE, so I wasn’t a complete jerk.)

(It's not like I left him lying there while I finished the race. Really, it could be said that it would have been impossible for me not to cross the finish line. I mean, it was that close.)

(Still, I DID win)

(He didn’t. I did. I won the race.)

and he still wasn’t moving.

This was scary. Then he moved.

Oh. Ha! He’s kidding! Like he was before!

No. Not so much. He rolled over. There was a lot of blood.

There was a lot of blood.

Suddenly, I got all take-chargey. I was George Clooney on ER. But without the hair. I was Anthony Hopkins at best.

“Eldest, go, fast, (I said “fast.” I wish I had said “stat.” But I didn’t.) and get some wet paper towels. Daughter, take Youngest inside, watch a movie. No! Don’t come closer. Just go. Everything is okay. He’s fine. Don't look.”

He looked pretty gruesome. Big scrape on the side of his face – huge! – and a deep cut on his chin. Scrapes on all of his knuckles. And he thought he had broken his toe. Fun!

I took him to the ER. We had to wait a while. I had a Snickers bar. It was fantastic. Another unpaid endorsement.

I was glad to be with Scooter at the ER. It was important that he be cared for, and it was important that I be there to make sure he told the actual story of what happened, and not, as he tried one time, to tell a nurse that he had saved some old lady from getting mugged by ninjas.

He had to tell the story about twenty times. It was fantastic. And every time, I was there for him, adding this:

Me: “And what is the age of the owner of the scooter?”

Scooter: “Five.”

Me: “Very good.”

Three hours, five stitches (True story:

Scooter: “Is this going to hurt?”

Doctor: “No, no. I won’t feel a thing.”)

and a tetanus shot later, and off to home we go.

All in all, a great night in the neighborhood.

Family Portraits

2007-05-08T12:14:00.000-07:00

Within the past few weeks, three depictions of members of the family have caught my eye.

The first was emailed to me by Brother-In-Law. Last winter, our family visited their family to make Christmas cookies. Here are Mother and me:

And this one, the cover of an invitation to join Daughter for a day of school. I was honored to be selected as her "special friend." I'm glad to see I've got my i.d. badge on my belt, but it looks like I could use a shave:

And finally, Youngest drew himself and Mother, sporting their new shoes. Youngest, like many five-year-olds, prefers his skies in cross-section. And that's not a ghost standing on the right. That was an abandoned first attempt on the other side of the page. Apparently he didn't get the new Spider-Man pajamas quite right:

I Was Once a Child Soldier

2007-05-08T10:00:00.000-07:00

This is not the blog entry to read if you are looking for a quick, light diversion. What follows is a long and tragic work of historical fiction written by Eldest.

Eldest has been working for several days on a story for his seventh-grade English and social studies classes. Studying the civil war in Uganda, he read personal accounts of children who were forced into military action. He used the context and details of those stories to create this fictional account.

As a proud father, with Eldest's permission, I share it here, unedited:

I Was Once a Child Soldier

“Mother, wake up,” I whispered as I shook my mother’s shoulders. My mother stirred, yawned, and opened her eyes.

“Anaji,” she whispered, “Let’s go.”

We tiptoed through our home and woke up my six younger siblings sleeping on the mat on the floor my mother, father, and I slept on a breaking bed that was actually less comfortable than the mat. Once we had woken all of my brothers and sisters, we all slipped on our car-tire sandals. My mother placed my youngest sibling, Iniko, a brother born just a few months before into his pouch and slung him onto her back. We had heard that the Lord’s Resistance Army took even extremely young people, and we didn’t want to take a chance, no matter how odd it seemed. I thought of Iniko’s name, which means “born in dark times”, and how right his name seemed at the moment. I also thought of how lucky he was to be so young. Being thirteen, I now value youth and the happy ignorance younger people still have. I also grieved for the childhood that I never had, I had heard stories of America, and the long, happy childhood that most children have there. Mine was over before it had begun.

We ducked out of our tin-roofed hut and started our long trek to the bigger city. As we reached some more of the main roads, we were joined by more “night commuters”, which eased the pain of the nightly walking. I met a girl named Adamma, which has a special meaning of it’s own, “beautiful girl”. We talked about our lives, and I made the mistake of asking about her parents. She whispered as though I had struck a deep chord inside her heart, “They died of the monstrosity of AIDS.”

I instantly regretted asking that question, but my embarrassed feeling wasn’t able to last for long, as three armored vehicles started to surround us. Children and their mothers fled in all directions. Those who were nearing escape were shot in the back as they attempted to run. I tried to protect my siblings alongside my mother, and we gathered them in a huddle behind us. A man charged towards, his intention clear, to bull over my mother and I and reach my siblings. He pulled out a knife and slit my mother’s throat as she was pounding his head with her fists. Tears stung my eyes, and in a fit of rage, I sunk my teeth into his arm. His blood mixed with my tears, and as he screamed, he whirled around and with his free hand, bashed me in the face.

* * *

I woke up to a scene of carnage; bloody bodies lay everywhere, and children cried for their mothers. I held my throbbing head in both of my hands as I looked around. Nausea overcame me and I turned my head and threw up on the ground. I lifted myself off the dusty road with my hands, and felt a sudden sense of terror. My siblings! I started running around in a frenzied panic, checking every body for a sign of my family. Then I came across my mother. Her body had clearly been dragged across the road for a few yards, and tears swelled in my eyes as I remembered what had happened. The gash across her neck didn’t help my nausea, and I spilled whatever food I had left in my stomach on the ground. I couldn’t find the rest of my family, and starting sprinting across the road, checking bodies. I didn’t notice a tall, broad-shouldered man in front of me in my fear, and slammed into his powerful abs. He wore the uniform of an LRA soldier. My stomach dropped through my feet. He grabbed me by the scruff of my neck and dragged me over a hill, his gun over his other shoulder. He threw me over the last part of the hill, and when I lifted my face and spat dirt out of my mouth, I gasped. There, on the other side of the hill were a hundred or more children being counted by ten or so grown men. The man who had dragged me over the hill yelled to one of his comrades, “Hey, I found another one running through the bodies.”

He kicked me down the rest of the hill, and in a crumpled heap, I landed at its base. My sister Ayanna (“beautiful flower”) ran over to me and helped me to my feet, Iniko in her arms. The man who had forced me here and another one pushed us into the group of children. I hugged all my siblings and greeted them warmly. The man I had become to hate cuffed me on the back of my head to shut me up. A man wearing a different type of hat than the others started giving us a speech, but I only understood two words, “child soldiers”.

A girl, hearing this term, ran out of the pack, and started to run into the open. She was quickly chased down, and was beaten with a stick. The man who had caught her shoved a handful of red peppers into her mouth, and kicked her in the side, his hand still on her mouth. She gagged, and he let go. As she spluttered, he dragged her over to the leader, and they whispered for a few minutes. The leader turned to us and shouted, “As an example of what happens to ‘runners’, you will kill this girl with sticks, and drink her blood.” Gasps echoed through the children. I didn’t gasp, I was trying to figure out why this girl seemed so familiar. That’s when it hit me; it was my friend from the night before, Adamma. I couldn’t kill her, or anybody else! Men started shoving sticks into our hands, and trained their weapons on us as a threat. One man shot a child, and the rest of us starting running towards Adamma in fear. I let myself fall to the back of the group; I couldn’t bring myself to kill her.

I cried after she had been murdered, and I glanced at her broken body, this time, my body didn’t have anything to lose, so I coughed and spluttered where I was. Unfortunately, I couldn’t refrain from having to drink her blood. A man brought a tin cup filled with it and sneered, “I noticed you didn’t beat the girl, you have a cup of blood.” He grabbed the back of my neck and bashed me in the face. As I cried out in pain, he shoved the liquid down my throat and I gagged. He chuckled and walked away. I spat the blood onto the ground when he was out of sight, and started gagging again, unable to lose anything else from my stomach.

Next, the men ordered us to march, and march we did. We walked until smaller children collapsed. I told my siblings to remain close, and held Iniko on my back in his pouch. I was incredibly relieved at the fact that none of my siblings had died or been slaughtered. It seemed that everything else had been taken away from us, and we weren’t about to let us drift apart from each other. After marching for days, and sometimes carrying three of four of my youngest siblings in my arms or on my back, we finally reached a large encampment. I collapsed on the ground, and my siblings spilled out of my arms. Only Iniko remained on my back. Instead of crying out in complaint, my brothers and sisters who had fallen lifted my head in an attempt to lift me up. I propped myself up with my arms, and pushed myself the rest of the way up with my weak legs. I teetered back and forth, but Ayanna steadied me with her tiny arm. I thanked her with a warm look, and she smiled back at me. A man with a gun came up behind us, and ordered us to walk over to where the other children had gathered. He jolted me roughly in the back with the front of his weapon and we marched. When we reached the huddle, more men started pushing us into crude lines, and I was curious as to what the lines were for. I was at the back of the long line, so my curiosity would have to wait. When I neared the front, I noticed a large, wooden crate filled with weapons. Ayanna, who was in front of me, reached the front of the line. I gasped when the man standing by the crate pulled out a gun and handed it to her. She stared down at the killing machine in her hand, and then gazed at him. He pushed her away and into the mob of children who had received their weapons already. When I got my gun, the man looked at Iniko, who was peering over my shoulder at the man. He asked me, “How old is that child?”

I didn’t answer the man, so he grabbed Ayanna, and held a knife to her throat. I cried out in desperation, “Not more than fourth months old!” The man nodded, and threw Ayanna face first back into the swarm. He grabbed Iniko off my back, and I attempted to shoot him in the face. The man chuckled, and punched me in the face. I toppled over, and was dragged into the crowd of other captives. I stood up and looked at the man, he had placed Iniko in a plastic bag, and was suffocating him to death. I berated myself for not realizing that he was too young to serve. I screamed and charged him in a teary frenzy. I smashed at his legs with my gun until two more men grabbed me by my arms. They threw me back with my siblings, and held me until Iniko had died. The man threw the baby’s body to the side, and I broke out of the men’s hold to clutch it in my hands. The men didn’t care so long as the baby was dead, and allowed me to take it.

* * *

That night, we were assigned to a tent to sleep in, and I snuck out to bury Iniko. I prayed to God for his soul to be taken to heaven, and cried by his grave. I stayed up all night by the makeshift grave, and had to sneak back into the tent when a patrolman came back to check the camp.

The next morning was the first time we had had food in two days. The first act of kindness from the LRA soldier’s came with breakfast. Apparently, they either decided to be nice, or they had all gotten drunk the night before. But I didn’t say anything, I was happy with food, but I still felt white-hot hatred when I came to the man who killed Iniko. He chuckled when I walked by him, and made a choking gesture at his neck. Later that day, the men drove us to a new location, and my siblings and I were again forced into a line. This time, the camp was a city. I saw tents set up already, and figured they were for us. But when I got to the line, the unloaded killing machine still in my hand, the man pushed me off to the left, and Ayanna to the right. I screamed, realizing that we were being separated, and the man butted me away with his rifle. I fell on the ground, and Ayanna’s screams were drowned out as she was pushed onto a bus. I was thrown onto another bus, and was relieved when two of my siblings wound up with me.

When we got to our new destination, a bullet ripped through the bus and pierced a child I didn’t recognize in the head. Blood flew all over the walls of the bus, and the children all screamed and ducked to the floor. I shivered at the feel of warm, human blood on my clothes and face. I then realized that we were about to fight, without being warned or briefed. One of the men ripped open the door of the bus and started dragging us off. More men came and were hurling us to the ground and telling us to jump into the bushes and trenches. I chose a trench and ducked low to the ground. All my siblings, besides Iniko jumped into the same trench as me and ducked as well. None of us wanted to fire our guns and spill more blood. They were enough rivers on this battleground. And we didn’t fire, until children around were shot through faces, stomachs, arms, and legs, and we were sitting in puddles of blood. That was my first shot. I poked my head above the trench and pulled the trigger. Nothing. I still didn’t have ammo! The men had forgotten to give it to us. I spied a crate over to my left, and crawled over to it on my stomach. I lifted the top and pulled out plenty of cases of ammo for my siblings and I, and snagged a couple of grenades. When I reached my siblings again, they all loaded their guns as the men had taught in an earlier class at the camp where Iniko was buried.

After the gun was loaded, I fired into the midst of trenches of the enemy. I felt a cold shiver run down each vertebrae in my spine as a man’s head exploded from the shots. I fired again and again, killing many men and adding to the mass of blood and organs on the ground. Eventually, the enemies saw our trench as a threat, and grenades were lobbed towards us. We ducked further into our trench and saw the grenades fly over our heads, exploded harmlessly yards away. But our luck didn’t hold out. One man had a nice shot and we gasped as the grenade rolled down the side of our protection. We froze. The grenade exploded. We all cried out and our blood flew into the air. I felt an immensely sharp pain in my left leg, and passed out with that.

* * *

I woke up in the same trench, caked in blood. I struggled to lift myself up with my arms, and gasped in horror. The tears and nausea came before I saw the whole gruesome picture, my siblings body parts were flung around the inside of the trench, blood covered the dirt and made it red rather than brown. I threw up all over the ground, mixing my food with blood. That’s when I looked down at my own mangled figure. The bottom half of my left leg was gone, not even anywhere in sight. It had been obliterated. I cried for my own loss this time, and crawled out of the trench. I was careful not to rub the stump I had left, for pain seared it every time it was so much as scraped. I threw dirt into the trench to bury my siblings, and once again prayed for hours.

When I had prayed all that I had left in me out, I crawled along the dirt further, looking for something to help me walk. I finally found a piece of wood that had been used to build a defense, and propped it under my arm. I lifted myself up with it, and began to hobble my way to only God knew where. Many times I fell, and I cried out in pain as my leg was battered against the ground, causing more blood to flow from it. To halt the bleeding, I ripped off my sleeve, and wrapped it around the stump, and over my shoulder. This stung insanely, but it was either that or die of blood loss.

After three days of ambling and falling, I finally reached a large city. My first initiative was to find a church, and water. When I reached the church, I pushed open the door and fell onto the ground, thinking that I would give up right there and die. I closed my eyes and went to sleep, not wishing to wake up.

When I did wake up though, I berated God, asking why he couldn’t just kill me. I opened my eyes and looked into the face of an elderly nun. She muttered something that my disorientation didn’t allow me to comprehend, and rushed off. When she returned she was carrying a gigantic bottle of water. I grabbed it greedily from her hand and downed all the water in about two seconds. She then helped me up and took me back out of the church. All of this was very confusing, and my exhaustion only made matters worse. We crossed the street and went into a building. After three flights of stairs she walked me into a room with hundreds of children. I realized what was going on, and finally accepted something for the first time in months, my whole family had been killed, and my father had been nothing but abusive, so this was the best place for me.

She dragged me past all the children and into a small office. She said to the man behind the desk, “This poor child has lost his leg and wound up in the church.” The man nodded and motioned to a chair. He thanked her for bringing me here, and she left the room briskly. He told me that as soon as he heard my story, I would receive help from a doctor.

“And that’s where I am today,” I told the man.

“Thank you Anaji, the doctor will meet you in here in five minutes or so.” He left almost as quickly as the nun had, and gave a reassuring smile before he closed the door. When he had gone, I pondered everything that had happened in the previous weeks. I thought of how true Iniko’s name had been, and how ironic mine was. Anaji: he who triumphs.

Exit Stage Left

2007-05-08T08:19:00.000-07:00

Done.

With set strike yesterday, I’ve completed what will be my last production for a while.

I direct the high school plays here at The School. Or, I did. But with the end of this show, I will be taking a leave of absence of at least a year to decide whether directing is more in my blood or on my back.

For the last twelve years I’ve directed a fall play and a spring musical as part of my job here at The School. That’s a lot of plays. (I did take off one spring when Youngest was brand new.) Two of the musicals were original, one a musical adaptation of Shakespeare, and the other this one.

Remember how admirable it seemed when Seinfeld's show went off the air while still at its peak? Well, I maybe stuck around a little too long.

Simply put, after twelve years the grind was getting to me. Not the working with kids part; that's not the grind. Rarely will you find teachers who get burnt-out from working with kids. That’s the creamy nugat center. It’s all the other stuff, the crunchy outside. The million little things that have nothing, directly, to do with what the kids are doing, and learning, on stage. It's the reading of twenty plays to find one, the scheduling of limited resources - like, oh, a theater - the eleven or twelve hour days for most of the school year, the daily walks in the dark to the last car in the parking lot.

Most especially, it is the frequent and increasingly long conversations in which my judgment is questioned. This is a natural part of being a director, and I don’t begrudge the questioners.

And I’ve watched myself start to play it safer just to avoid the long emails and meetings required to justify choices. That, in part, is why I ended up choosing and directing the show that I just wrapped. It was a popular success, as was expected. More students auditioned than ever before. We had to add a matinee, we sold more tickets than ever before, and everyone; cast, crew, and audience; seemed to have a good time. But it's fluff. Fluff's okay. And I had no problems. But it didn't really expand any minds or advance theater as an art form. It isn’t the kind of show I dreamed of directing when I was studying educational theater.

Something needs to happen to invigorate the program. That something is either the arrival of an invigorated person to head it, or for me to return, invigorated. But it isn’t me staying.

As expectations in each field have increased tremendously, it is no wonder that the English Teacher / Theater Director animal is virtually extinct, or at least endangered.

So I’m going to concentrate on the English Teacher half, and explore other ways to grow or to be creative.

I was grateful to one colleague who expressed it this way: It takes courage to walk away from something with which you have had success and acclaim. That's a nice way to think about it.

Look, lots of people - most people - have it much worse than me. They work harder and longer for less satisfaction. I am grateful for my opportunities and happiness here. Mr. Neighbor once said to me, when I first met him, "The only people I know who like their jobs are teachers." I'm one of those people. And I certainly have no intention of leaving The School. It's not perfect, but it is an amazing place in countless ways, and it cares the most about the most important things. My whole family is here. We're lucky for that.

And to be clear: My job here as an English teacher is secure. I’ve asked for, and was given, some time off from leading an extra-curricular program. I appreciate that very much. And whether I return to directing or not, I know I’ll be glad I climbed out of the rut to decide.

E Is For Youngest

2007-04-26T14:08:00.000-07:00

This was a while ago: Youngest's Pre-K Program at school, a surreal exercise in alphabets, fly swatters, homemade costumes, and, well . . . learning!

He's cute, in an eggs-all-over-him sort of way.

Asthma Blows. But Not Very Hard.

2007-04-24T06:32:00.000-07:00

An email from Uncle Second Eldest, Father's Side, and my reply, concerning a trip to the ER.

What’s this stuff with little [Youngest] going to the hospital?? What kind of treatments do they give for asthma attacks? Since when is asthma a problem in this family anyway? Poor little fella. Eat more veggies. I sure hope all is well now.

Eldest had asthma too, but he outgrew it. It's not a our-side-of-the-family thing. We are made of sturdier stuff than that. But Mother's family is so riddled with allergies it's a wonder they can reproduce. Our nephew is allergic to everything. I think his diet is limited to, like, sheets of paper and water from the Euphrates.

Youngest is on a bunch of medicines, many of which, he was sad to learn, are not available as generics, so the money has to come out of his college fund. Why should we suffer? We're healthy!

The emergency room trip was a first for us - for asthma - though if you're gonna go to the emergency room at midnight, I recommend asthma. No waiting! Turns out, the whole breathing thing is sorta important. And a tip of the hat to Children's Hospital. That place is pretty incredible. I was moved to tears by the fact that they have cable TV in every exam room, though I may have been a little emotional, what with the sleep deprivation, and my kid not being able to breath and all.

There, they gave him, like, four huge doses of Prednisomething, which is the stuff that is in his inhaler already, but they loaded it into him, dose after dose after dose. It's sad to see him laying on a hospital bed with a mask on his face so he can breath, but he's used to those masks - which is sad too, I guess.

The stuff they had him breathing is a stimulant, so his heart was racing - which gave me another thing to worry about. I thought my phone was vibrating in his chest.

Then they gave him a dose of a steroid. Wait. The steroid is called Prednisomething. The other thing is. . . I dunno. At home we just call them puffs. Anyway, these days he takes two puffs on his inhaler every four hours, and the steroid twice a day.

That was Thursday / Friday. Yesterday he had to go to his doctor for an update, and she said things aren't much better. She put him on allergy meds as well. So now he's on Puffs, Prednisomething, and an allergy pill that starts with S. Are you writing this down?

The doctor made it clear to Mother that this is a pretty big deal, which is just what Mother needed to calm her down. I'm all like, relax! Its' just breathing! It's not like he can't do his chores.

The steroid should come with a sticker that says "Caution: Causes dickishness." The poor kid is a complete pain in the butt to live with when he is on it - he's belligerent, cranky, prone to tantrums. I have to keep reminding myself that it isn't him, it's the medicine. But that medicine is a real asshole.

The other bummer is that Youngest was going to leave on Friday to go to Disney World with his grandparents and Mother's brother's family. Yesterday the doctor said that if the trip were tomorrow, she'd say no way. As it is, the trip being Friday, she wants to see him again on Thursday. But Mother and I have decided it is a no-go. Disney World is built on a swamp. If the change of seasons in the Midwest did this to him, I'm not sending him down there. Especially not with those people, whose genetics are responsible for all of these problems in the first place.

So, there's that. Thanks for asking.

Eldest's New Friend of Color

2007-04-12T12:12:00.000-07:00

It's opening night for Eldest. The show, as I've said, is The Ensemble Member and the Baker!, in which he is the star, which some people call Aladdin, in which he is an ensemble member and a baker.

I was very proud of Eldest for auditioning for this show. Really. The theater company has a great reputation, the director more so. It was an intense, sweaty-palm, stomach-churning, heart-in-the-throat couple of days. It was tough on him, too.

He got cast, and ever since he has put a tremendous amount of time in the show: Three hours every night, a big rehearsal every weekend. He's missed family events and parties and sleep and play and downtime, and he never complained even once, not because he was being a trouper (though he was) but because he was having such a great time. Every time I picked him up, he was in a terrific mood. He had a nine-hour rehearsal last Sunday, and when I picked him up he was energized and goofy.

And tonight is opening night. The whole family is going - the immediates, I mean - and hopefully you'll come see it too. Unless you're some creepy internet-trolling bad guy, in which case I should tell you that all of my children are heavily armed and trained in the arts of the ninja.

Here's some information that was sent:

[Eldest Last Name] (center) is performing in Columbus Children's' Theatre's production of Disney's Aladdin, playing through April 29th at the Columbus Performing Arts Center. Also pictured is Sam (left) as "Genie" and Stephanie (right) as "Jasmine." The show is recommended for ages 4 and up. For ticket information call: 614-224-6672 or visit colschildrenstheatre.org.

So It Goes

2007-04-12T09:34:00.000-07:00

New York Times obit

A tribute in today's Salon.com

I saw Kurt Vonnegut speak once. I took some students to a lecture series years ago. We sat in the front row, and from the excitement of the kids you would have thought that he was a pop singer.

I’ve often referred to the cantankerous wisdom Vonnegut shared that day. One pearl that has stuck with me is his response to the lecture series itself. The title of the lecture was pretentiously long, written by some academic to impress the likes of Vonnegut, having to do with a threatened free press in the US. Vonnegut, it would seem, would have strong feelings on the topic. He’s an author whose works are frequently banned in schools, and he was a card-carrying member of the ACLU. He did have strong feeling, but not those that might be expected. He mocked the topic and criticized it, saying that there is no threat to a free press in the US, that freedom of expression is guaranteed. He said that too many people mistake the right to express themselves with the obligation of other people to listen. No one has the right to write a bestseller. If you want to write, write. No one can stop you. Write, and then show your writing to people. Drop essays on tables in coffee shops. Don’t try to write for the world. Write for you, or the people in your family or your neighborhood. Publish in your school paper or literary journal. Hand copies out on the street. Nobody owes you an audience, but you can create whatever you want.

That's more what I heard than what he said, I suppose. I hope it's close.

To me, a guy who has a room filled with unpublished songs, three plays sitting on a shelf, and a folder filled with generally unheard lyrics, it made a lot of sense. Though most of what I’ve written sits on a shelf, what little I have shared with my small part of the world I have shared, in part, due to what Kurt Vonnegut said. So, in that spirit, I’ll share a song that my friend Chris and I wrote years ago. It’s about Vonnegut.

Flatulence, Tea Makers, and Paradise on an Airplane

2007-04-07T16:05:00.000-07:00

A Twelve-Year-Old's View of England
courtesy of Eldest's Journal

Date: March 22nd, ‘07
Time: Around 3:00 pm
Where: Hotel (finally!)

Day One

After semi-malfunctioning ear plugs (my fault), constipation (not my fault) and hunger, not to mention three or four train rides, I let out horrible farts, composing and conducting a flatulent symphony in less than 12 seconds. I’ll call it [Eldest’s] 1st. Today was a good day (so far) except for the previously mentioned ailments.

Kensington Gardens is beautiful, but I’m disappointed that just about everything was dead. I had bookmarked that in my London for Dummies book, so I can check seeing the gardens off for now. The gardens are right next to our hotel, which makes it easy to go to them. I’ll probably see them a lot, considering that we can also use them as a means of transportation.

Lunch was fairly interesting, because we chose a Chinese restaurant, and the food was great. However, they didn’t give us silverware. Only chopsticks. Grandpa coped by using one of the serving spoons (we shared two plates), but Bumma and I seemed to be pretty good with the wooden eating utensils.

Bumma and Grandpa are both asleep, and I've decided to write in this. It was only until recently, though, that I thought Bumma and Grandpa knew what they were doing! We had to ask the hotel concierge when Spamalot is showing at the Palace. I was a little bummed that it wasn’t at the Globe.

I’m not quite sure, but I think that I’ll buy a beanie. I love them, and it’s one of the better souvenirs that you can find around in shops.

I’ve been surprised at how un-English some of the accent have been around here. There have been a few really nice cars, though (I’m putting this down because my friends want me to take pictures of “the nice England cars” for them.)

The plane was great (at least the one to here). We ended up having the middle section all to ourselves. That was nice because I got to lay down, and had two pillows. But this plane was like heaven! They had on-demand movies, music, games, and a map so that you could follow the plane via GPS.

England’s a lot more crowded than I expected, too. Everything’s right on top of each other. That’s probably for tax reasons. The hotel is a lot nicer than I expected (after the cramped- ness) too. There are three twin-sized beds, so everybody gets their own. There’s also a tea maker and a tiny TV. I’ve yet to check out the bathroom, though.

The time change hasn’t been too much of a problem for me, but I probably should get a little sleep soon if I can; don’t wanna miss any of Spamalot!

We haven’t gone on the tube yet, so I’m looking forward to that. By the way, I don’t think I’m going to have any Indian food. In England, every restaurant’s menu is in its front window, and guess their special for today. No, really. Guess. . . . Done? ‘Kay, it was fried seaweed! Eck! Don’t think that I’ll have any of that.

I’m kinda out of things so far for today, unless you want to hear about us sitting in our hotel’s lounge watching the top forty ‘80s songs strictly by women. Well first we. . .kidding.

Okay, I think I’m gonna sign off for today. I’m all out of stuff!

Love ya,

[Eldest]

From Daughter and Youngest's Journals

2007-04-07T15:38:00.000-07:00

From Daughter’s journal, written just before spring break:

Dear Journal,

I am very excited that we are going to Cincinnati. We are going there for fun and we have to drive my big brother [Eldest] to the airport because he is going to England. We are going to stay at a hotel with a pool and my mom said that when we get to the hotel me and my brother [Youngest] are going to jump and play in the pool even if it is really late at night. Me and [Youngest] are buds so me and him are going to have fun together with each other.

Love, your friend,

[Daughter]

P.S. I love my little brother [Youngest}

I REALLY LOVE HIM!

From Youngest’s journal, as dictated to Daughter, same day, just after:

Dear Journal,

I am very excited because my brother [Eldest] is going to England and we have to drive him to the airport in Cincinnati and we are going to stay at a hotel overnight and me and my sister [Daughter] are going to jump and play at the pool in our hotel. We are going to sleep there for two nights.

Sincerely, your friend,

[Youngest]

We're On Spring Break. You?

2007-03-27T16:26:00.000-07:00

I’m at the library, the big main one. “Best in the Country!” say all the banners, and I’m not well traveled, but am inclined to agree. I’m drinking a funky green tea (Pineapple Ginger. I’m comfortable enough with my masculinity to order that.) You can sit in the library, get internet access, drink tea. You can do all that here. And you're on spring break. So, all around, you're happy. If you're me.

I’m sitting in the library because Eldest is at rehearsal. "Rehearsal?" you ask. "For what?" You are asking good questions.

First, Eldest was Smee in his school play. Smee is Captain Hook’s sidekick in a play that is called Peter Pan but should, I think, be called Smee. Or, even better: Smee! He was very good. He had a flair, a certain Je-ne-sais-really-fun-to-watch.

He was encouraged by he whole thing, and auditioned for a play at Columbus Children’s Theater called The Ensemble Member and the Baker! Actually, it’s Aladdin. He’s in the ensemble. And he plays the baker. I think Aladdin steals bread from him. Jerk. Diamond in the rough my butt. Still, you should maybe go see it. (Scroll down to Alladin)

Eldest just got back from London last night. Bumma and Grandpa took him, as a birthday present for life, and they had a great time. Watch here for pictures and stories.

While he was there, the rest of us spent a few days in and around Cincinnati, and Daughter fell in love with the sharks she could pet at the Newport Aquarium, and the birds she could feed. It’s a cool place – recommended.

Daughter, too, has been busy.

And, quite some time ago, Youngest turned five, and celebrated by getting sweaty with his friends, climbing on inflatable fun machines.

So that does a bit to get ‘chall caught up on our doings.

And how are you?

The Greatest Movie Ever

2007-02-13T15:18:00.000-08:00

The best movie ever is The Lord of the Rings.

I'm not prone to such ultimate statements; I'm much more likely to say something is a great movie - and I do think The Lord of the Rings is a great movie - than to say that anything is the best movie ever. There are so many good movies, you know? I love movies. But I'll go on the record here and say that The Lord of the Rings is. The best movie. Ever. Today, it is.

The Lord of the Rings. All three chapters: The Fellowship of the Ring, The Two Towers, The Return of the King. All three Extended Editions. Six discs, a total of, like, what, twelve? Twelve hours.

But you have to know just how to watch it. It's a great movie no matter what, but if you want it to see that it is the best movie eve, you have to watch it just right. So follow these steps:

1. Buy the movies with an unexpected gift certificate that you got for your birthday from some students.

2. Place the DVDs, still shrink wrapped, on the television for two months to cure.

3. Wait for very very cold weather. And, then, snow. Lots and lots of snow.

4. Oh. Hang on a sec. I skipped a step.

0. Go to college and get a degree in education. Become a teacher. Marry a teacher. Have three kids. Let kids cure for 12, 10, and 5 years, respectively.

5. Have a snow day. Or a too-cold-for-school day. Have it be announced the night before school, too late to do anything, nothing on TV, but you get to stay up late! Watch excited kids run around, then settle down, then look to you for the evening's amusements.

6. Look at your new movies sitting on the TV. Look at them there. Look. "My preciousssss. . ."

6 1/2. You know, there are some really scary scenes in those movies. It would be really irresponsible for you to show it to Daughter, maybe, and definitely Youngest. Could cause nightmares for weeks. Do the right thing: sit through one of their kiddie flicks for the thousandth time. You don't want to risk screwing up your kids just so you can watch a movie, do you?

7. Yup.

8. Start the movie. Man, that music is perfect. Good story. Keep glancing at the kids. Answer questions. Watch the movie, peek at kids. Then, it starts to happen: Watch kids fall completely in love with this movie, in all the best ways - the way you used to watch The Wizard of Oz when it came on TV once a year.

See Eldest enjoy it yet again, having seen it, and love it, before.

See Youngest love it, despite some fears and some falling-asleep-on-the-big-comfy-chair-with-his-head-hanging-upside-down-over-the-edge-how-cite-is that?

But especially, see daughter stare at this movie, just gaze, just fall in love with it, in a way that allows you to see it again as if for the first time: the epic, noble story; the story craft and film craft; the characters, the language, the adventure. It is Oz all over again. It is Oz and Willie Wonka and all of the best Christmas specials and the first Saturday morning of the new TV season when you were ten years old. It is all of that, but new and now, and you get to watch it happen and live it with her. Until it is too late at night to keep watching, and you pause the film, and they beg and beg, and you sigh with a smile and watch some more, and, later, you pause it again, this time you mean it, and they beg and beg beg and beg, no, no, we'll watch more tomorrow, go brush teeth, awwww, Dad! no really, come on, night night.

9. Get another snow day. Watch the rest of Fellowship. Then, go to breakfast, swimming, lunch. So worn out. And the cold. What else can you do? May as well watch more. You watch a lot of The Two Towers.

10. Get another snow day. Go to breakfast, sledding, home for lunch. Do other stuff. Be worn out. Watch more. Marvel at how incredibly long it is. And rich. And so so good.

11. Go back to work in the morning. But, later, watch some more. Still good.

12. Wait a couple of days. Get stuff done.

13. Then, the next week, who saw this coming? get another snow day. This time for real snow. Lots of snow. Shovel the driveway with Eldest, do some stuff, home stuff, work stuff, shovel again, with Eldest, this time in the sleet. Even go help Mr. and Mrs. Neighbor shovel. Laugh a lot. Get worn out.

14. Then, put a fire on, gather the tired kids, lay on the floor, and watch more. Enjoy the fire. Enjoy the deep breaths of Youngest, who fell asleep on the floor next to you. Watch daughter do her "Daughter-fly," where she wiggles tense finger tips together in front of her mouth, something she does when excited, during the battle scenes, or the Frodo scenes. Answer all of her many questions. Suspect she has a crush on Legolas, just like she does on Will Turner in Pirates of the Carribean. Coincidence?

Watch and watch and watch. Snacks and tea. Put another log on the fire.

15. The last disk is coming to an end. Daughter actually claps - she applauds! - when Argorn is crowned king. Watch through to the end, and don't even mind that the movie has, like, fourteen endings. It's a whole half hour from the end of the quest to the end of the film. People complain about that. They're wrong. They don't get it. It's magical. Look at daughter, there. Frodo sails off. Fade to black. Nice fire.

16. Then, to shake the cobwebs off, take the dog for a walk. The family doesn't join you, thinks you are crazy.

17. Take a walk. In the lots-of-snow, now crunchy with sleet. It is still sleeting, so the whole world is making that sound, tiny ice crystals hitting fields of ice by the millions, so loud and so quiet at the same time, which is hokey but perfectly true, all around you, and pattering off of your hat and off of your coat and sticking to your dog, who is running and slipping on the ice and breaking through the surface ice in ways that are funny. She is not on a leash, because the two of you are alone at the top of the world. The sleet rat-a-tats and pings off of a flag pole, and the flag waves in the wind, but it crackles with sleet. You've never heard that sound before. You walk on shoveled sidewalks, but secretly look forward to non-shoveled strips of sidewalk because they make you feel like a more responsible home owner - slackers!- but also because you get to take big steps and crunch through the ice. You are on the tundra. You look back, and your footsteps smashed big holes through the ice. Your tracks are the tracks of a mammoth. The sleet comes faster and stings your face, but it's not as cold as it looks, so you go a little farther, pretending it's because the dog is having such a nice time, and she is.

18. Go home. Rub the sleet off of the dog on the porch. Open the door. Look: Your wife is making apple pies from scratch. You pour a Glenlivet for you, a Knob Creek for her, and you sit by the fire. The kids are playing at your feet, and you grab your laptop to record this day.

See? Isn't that the best movie ever?

Us, While You Were At Work

2007-02-08T05:25:00.000-08:00

Alas, back at work. But who's complaining? Not me.

Conferences tonight and tomorrow, which means for the students, this is a one day week. Boo-yah, as they say, whoever they are.

I received an email from a parent of a student. She was at the sledding hill yesterday and snapped this photo. Fun was being had.

On Super Bowl, Snow, and Sleds

2007-02-07T15:58:00.000-08:00

The bad news is the Super Bowl. And that ain’t nothin’ compared to the good news.

Eldest is a fan of the football game, particular the Steelers, which is a team, but also the Bears. His love of that team is genetic, passed from Mother, who hails from Bear-ville, but most especially from Grandpa, with whom Eldest watched many hours of football whilst Mother and Father cavorted in sin city.

Aside: Eldest is tossing the old pigskin to himself as I type this, in flagrant violation of various paternal injunctions, and I am as distracted by the tossing as I am by his enormous hair.

Aside 2: Youngest insists that I take his picture as well, and I choose to set his hair on fire to do it.

Aside 3: Eldest informs me, after reading this, that he is a bigger Bears fan than Steelers fan. This is, I think, revisionist history, perhaps in the hopes of a greater inheritance from Grandpa.

End of Asides.

When there is a football contest we wish to watch as a family – and there aren’t that many, that just isn’t how we roll, as they say - we do a pretty pleasant little shindig, with hot wings and barbecue wings and nine-layer dip (well, four or five layers of a nine-layer dip, but I’m not complaining) and lots of chips and ice cream and blankets on the floor. Also, later in the game, lots of laughter, and groaning from mother, as we enjoy the fruits and toots of the bean dip, a happy family healthy as manatees.

The game was fun to watch, the commercials okay, with the following family favorites:

Daughter: Doritos
Eldest: Bud Light “Rock Paper Scissors”
Youngest: “Ask me my favorite! Ask me my favorite!”
“Okay. What was your favorite?”
“Rock Paper Scissors too!”

Mother: Snickers
Father: Robert Goulet

So, guess what? The Bears stunk, losing after an amazing start in much the same was as the Buckeyes did, if with less humiliation.

Eldest was despondent, and spirits were low.

And then we got news that school was closed the next day. Wind chill, it seems.

And yea, the spirits were lifted, and there was much rejoicing. And up-late staying.

But do we dare hope for two days in a row? No, that would be greedy.

And we got two days in a row.

The first day, we hung around the house, eventually driving each other crazy, until Alex’s evening Soccer game got us out and about. But the second day, we got it right, without Mother, sadly, as her meetings were not cancelled. Breakfast at the kids' favorite place – Youngest pronounces it “Bob’s Evan,” and then, on the coldest day of the year, we went swimming. As did everyone who didn’t have school – at one point you couldn’t see water. We had much fun, and then, a late lunch at BD Barbecue, a favorite of Daughter’s. By now, the snow was really coming down. Do we dare hope for. . . no, we don’t dare. But we did camp out in front of a fire and watch Lord of the Rings, or at least the first three hours of it. This could be called irresponsible parenting, but Daughter loved it, as did Youngest, though he hid his eyes occasionally. No nightmares.

I realize that non-teachers might find it hard to understand, but going back to school after a snow day is kind of hard. You get greedy. And we were greedy. As I lay in bed before the alarm went off, I was dreading going back to work in a way that is completely unfair to the rest of the working world. The alarm went off, I sighed, and Mother turned on the TV.

You know.

Just in case.

HA!

You know, as nice as it is to find out about a snow day (or “really frickin’ cold” day) the night before, to stay up late and not set the alarm at all, it is really great, even better, to be surprised in the morning.

Today? First, omelets and pancakes. Then, another hour of the Rings trilogy (Extended Edition!) Then: Sledding!

Mother is not a fan, but she came along so that she could see first hand the limb loss that concerned her. But then guess what? No injuries! Sort of. And who was the biggest sledding beast? Guess.

After going down the hill with me – a pretty good hill, at a local State Park – Youngest wanted to go by all by his own self. Father was gleeful, Mother less so. After his second run, Youngest got crushed by another sled. (We sort of skipped the whole “be sure to get out of the way of other sleds” part of his training.) As responsible parents, we didn’t see him get hit. Mother and I were laughing-all-the-way on a sled run of our own, Parents-of-the-Year Award Number 421. By the time we got to him, the park ranger was already checking his vitals – she was a dramatic type: “Can you move your head?” she asked. “Can you take deep breaths?” To which Youngest responded, through his tears, “Can I go again?”

And now, the evening. Another fire, a Papa Murphy’s pizza (recommended!), another hour or so of Lord of the Rings, and, realistically, no hope of another day off. That would just be greedy. Greedier.

I would love to share with you pictures and tales of Daughter as an indoor soccer star, and Eldest as a star of stage, but Middle Earth is on, loudly, and I need a break. Writing this is the most work I’ve done in days.

Our New Name

2007-01-26T17:58:00.000-08:00

Well, not our new name. The new name of the blog - "The Family" - and the new address, as well as revisions of some previous posts.

As teachers, we instruct our students on all kinds of safe and smart things to do. Then, we violate that common sense ourselves. Like about posting on the internet.

Good sense dictates that we remove identifying details from the blog. The generic names will continue. Also, we've decided to start referring to each other as "Mother," "Father," "Eldest," "Daughter," and "Youngest" around the house.

Otherwise, a calm and quiet night at home. Mother is asleep on the floor, Daughter is watching disc 3 of season 3 of "Little House on the Prairie," (with Willis, from "Diff'rent Strokes," playing "a genuine negro"). Eldest is at a dance - with real girls! - and Youngest is changing the oil in my car.

Another family you should know

2007-01-26T11:02:00.000-08:00

Do you know a perfect family, the kind you wish your family could be if only it didn't take any effort?

Other than us, I mean.

Kidding.

We have friends like that. The kids - four of them - are smart and cute and sweet and perfectly behaved. The parents never raise their voices. They never make any decisions on a whim, and, it seems, they don't make bad decisions. They are humble and gracious and funny and never gloat or have any airs of superiority.

Don't you just hate those people?

We would, too, if we could. But these friends of ours are pretty tough to hate.

Once, at lunch, a bunch of us were talking about what we had done over spring break. We had gone to Disney, played on beaches, bummed around. This guy, the dad? He went to Honduras to help build a hospital.

These are the kind of people that, despite having four kids - a sizable family this day and age, more than I think I could handle - open their doors to foster kids. And then, when the kids move on, they stay in touch.

And then, as perfect as they are - and they would object to that label, so let's just say wonderful (they would object to that, too - they keep getting better. Or, at least, they keep living their values in ways that are more and more inspiring.

How?

They have adopted two orphans from Ethiopia.

We had a shower for them here at work yesterday. Soon the parents will travel to Africa to pick up their two new children. The mom is learning how to cook Ethiopian food.

Imagine: They have two new children (it was made official this week.) They have not met these children. They aren't sure what language the children speak. They do know that while facing the many challenges of entering a very foreign culture and a brand new family, these kids will also be coping with the worst kinds of losses to the worst kind of disease. And to these kids, this family says: Come on in. Whatever you need.

I find this family to be inspiring. You will too. Meet them here.

At the Not-Babies Shower

Their new son and daughter

Holiday Hoo-hah

2007-01-16T10:48:00.000-08:00

We return to post once again. Where has the time gone. Is anyone still out there?

Accusations have been made that Father has hijacked this blog, using photos of Telly Savalis and lies about Thanksgiving to send Mother fleeing. And yes, perhaps I was a bit over-excited about the narcissistic possibilities of blogging. But I didn't mean to take over! Really! Look, Mother, you've got me using exclamation marks.

My rather lame post ridiculing elementary teachers was an attempt to goad Mother back, and certainly a photo of a shaven Rick Springfield should have been proper bait.

Mother, where are you? The public awaits your return.

I thought she might return to post some holiday photos, but, alas, MLKJr. Day has come and gone, and still no sign of Mother or Christmas. It is well past time to share with you the news that Christmas happened, and we performed all due Christmas duties.

We decorated the house,

displayed our new artificial tree,

and created edible architecture.

Mother's fine folks, Bumma and Grandpa, joined us for food-house making. Grandpa did all of the work and Bumma stared into space the whole time.

We decorated the tree; it was Daughter's year to put the star on top. (That the kids remember whose turn it is every year is quite impressive to me.)

Other highlights included wonderful meals and family gatherings all over the place, gifts, a nice night out with Oma, gifts, family cookie baking, brother-in-law beer and shopping expeditions, gifts, savior births, gifts, and things I'm forgetting. A nice, family-type New Year's was spent playing Apples to Apples (gift!) at Mr. and Mrs. Neighbor's house, until Mr. and Mr. Other Neighbors showed up drunk and rowdy and showed us how much fun New Years is for the kid-less. Still, I ruled at Trivial Pursuit.

Yea, Holidays. We all had a wonderful, wonderful Christmas season.

But that was a while ago, and other things have happened since. Mother, why don't you share news of our wonderful trip?

Celebrity Resemblance

2006-12-21T07:42:00.000-08:00

So, how much money and talent do you think Universal Studios spent trying to come up with as cute a face as they possibly could?

We could have saved them a lot of time and trouble.

So, How Do I Look?

2006-12-12T05:24:00.000-08:00

At last, the unveiling.

Needless to say, Mother is pleased.

Reasons I Am Nervous

2006-12-07T09:30:00.000-08:00

I'm Going To Shave My Head

2006-12-06T09:13:00.000-08:00

It is my intention to shave my head to recognize my fortieth birthday. No doubt, this will prove to be an enormously regrettable mid-life thingy type of gesture, but some gesture is called for.

Here is an artist's rendering of how I will look:

Vote For Our Celebrity Crushes!

2006-11-29T04:39:00.000-08:00

It occurs to me that this new "inter-net-web" might be able to serve a greater purpose than the exhibition of family photos. So today, an interactive poll! This way, the inter-net-web can serve its purpose as a reminder to us of the pathetic insignificance of our existence, as we are reminded through polling that no one actually reads this blog but those who author it.

Onward!

Today's The Farrenkopf Family Inter-Net-Web Blog Poll: Choose Mother and Father's Celebrity Crushes!

One of the quirky little traits of our quirky little marriage is that Mother and I allow each other one Celebrity Crush, for life or at-a-time, respectively. This is what is known in relationship literature as "charming," as "developing a sense of playfulness in the relationship," and as a "red flag."

Today, by posting to the comments section, YOU get to decide our Celebrity Crushes.

First, for Father. Which of the following do you think would be the best Celebrity Crush for me?

1. Angelina Jolie

Father was first introduced to the charms of Ms Jolie on a plane flight, during which her fine film "Mr. and Mrs. Smith" was shown. Father failed to rent head-phones for the film, but it turns out that sound is not needed to enjoy the subtle charms of Ms Jolie's outstanding performance.

2. Tina Fey

Ms Fey, former head-writer of "Saturday Night Live" and star of her own "30 Rock" television program, is included here to illustrate that Father is not intimidated by intelligent, successful potential Celebrity Crushes. Also, she's smokin'.

3. The Cast of "Desperate Housewives"

But not Bree. Or Carlos.

Okay, now it is Mother's turn. Please vote only once.

1. Abraham Lincoln

Sixteenth President of the United States and creator of the terrific "Gettysburg Address" and "Emancipation Proclamation," Honest Abe loves long walks on the beach, red wine at bedtime, and women who look him in the eye.

2. Carol O'Connor

Star of "All In The Family" and "Archie's Place," as well as some cop show later on, Mr. O'Connor is not intimidating to Father both because he has a woman's name, and because he's been dead since 2001.

3. Rick Springfield

Mother's obsession with Mr. Springfield is well established in family lore. Father has no problem with this. Do not vote for Rick Springfield.

Let the voting commence!

Looking Ahead: Tonight Mother and I will be joining Cal Ripken, Jr. at a social function! Cal Ripken is a very successful player of The Baseball Game. This is particularly exciting for me, as I am fascinated by the world of sport due to the months that I played intramural soccer in the second grade.

Thanksgiving

2006-11-28T18:47:00.000-08:00

Chef J. shows off his stylish holiday apron.

"I like your hat!"

"So, is the turkey ready yet?"

Daughter, Youngest and Eldest

The whole gang!

Sister, the twins, and J.

Uncle and Aunt

Cammie, Mallory,
Pierce and Joe

Mom and Dad

Thanksgiving Photos

2006-11-28T18:00:00.000-08:00

A wonderful Thanksgiving was had by all but the turkey at the Family Thanksgiving. Pictured here, left to right, top row: Uncle Billy with his hands on the shoulders of his oldest daughter, Brenda Lee; Susie-Alice and her short-ish beau Clark; Oma and her husband, Oma-gosh; Bunny; Scooter; Jackson and Crazy Carol; Clyde and his lovely girlfriend, known only as Clyde's girlfriend. On couch: Urchin, Rugrat, Punk, and Brat. On floor: Pony-Boy, Clyde II, Smee, and Scooter Jr Girl.

These two old people wandered into our Thanksgiving celebration and had a wonderful time until we took the liquor away.

Various Family members are all smiles as they work a jig-saw puzzle.

Daughter's Solo

2006-11-20T09:28:00.000-08:00

The 4th grade choir performed several songs at
assembly this morning. Daughter had a solo. She did a great job.

Youngest's Stage Debut

2006-11-17T06:16:00.000-08:00

This morning was Youngest's first performance on the school stage. The PreK kids showed off their musical skills in "Smokey Mountain Adventure" Here are a few pictures . . .