A Night with Neil DeGrasse Tyson

In my experience, a Neil DeGrasse Tyson event is a bunch of scientific true believers.  I can say for certain that was the case for me, JT, and my friend H.  We saw Tyson on Thursday night and, like the fan crew we are, we cheered when the wisdom of science range true.  

Talks like this - surrounded by hundreds of people who know that only science can save us - provide a sense of real hope in a world that often feels bleak.  That’s happy.

Real Life Texts with M: Storage Bin Anxiety edition

The backstory: There is a large Pods storage bin in my driveway.  This weekend, the boy and some of his wrestling friends will load it full of our first floor furniture and things.  Next week, my wood floors will be refinished.  My friend M, who also lives in our town, drove by, saw the bin, and was immediately concerned.

M:  Are you moving?

Me:  Nope.  Having floors done!

Me: Oh! So you can still bail me out if/when I go to jail?

Me:  Roger that.

It’s always best to plan ahead.  

December

I have a friend who makes the most beautiful photos of nature and found things.  She’s a talented artist but the photos are more than just talent at work.  Through her lens, I can see the beauty of the items and places she has photographed.  I can also see the respect and appreciation she has for the natural world and things that have been left to nature.  Characteristically, she is modest about her rather immense talent.  Looking at her pictures and talking to her about what she views has given me a richer appreciation for the things that I see.  When I make a picture of something in nature, it’s with a renewed eye for that which I find lovely.

Last week, on a frosty morning, there were leaves on the pavement with a shadow of ice imprinted below them.  They were lovely.

The patterned icy print was ephemeral but I caught a shot just before the morning’s sunlight melted the picture away.

Thanks to C for always reminding me to look for the beauty that is around me.

Four Fast Years

In both the lower and middle levels at my school, the year ends with a closing ceremony.  The year is celebrated and we say goodbye to the 4th and 8th graders, who are welcomed to the next level of the school by the principal of the middle and upper school.  

The ceremonies are sweet and a cause to pause and remember how fleeting time can be.  It seems like yesterday that my mom surprised us with a visit and JT left the lower school and 4th grade.

Yesterday, he said goodbye to his middle school years.  I made pictures of him with some of the kids that he’s been friends with for more than 10 years.  These children have been a part of his world for as long as he can remember.   The difference that four years made in them is still hard for me to wrap my brain around.

When I first brought my baby boy home, a friend told me that the nights were long but that the days and years are short.  He heads to the 9th grade next year, a fact that confirms just how short the years have been.  

Friendship

These boys have been friends since they were 4 years old.  I have been hearing their chattering voices for years.  Now, at the age of 14, they have an entire vocabulary and world of their own, one rooted in the fact that they know each other so well.  On Saturday, they participated in a school community service project cleaning up a local beach.  As I listened to them talk and laugh as they worked together to tackle the task, I was reminded of the power of their friendship.  It’s a great blessing.

Friends

JT and V have been friends since they were 4 years old.  Even the two years that V spent at school overseas in the 4th and 5th grade could not dim their friendship.  V’s about to make another relocation with his family and he will attend high school in Florida.   Last weekend, when a bunch of 8th graders attended a performance of Richard III in NYC (they had read it in English class this year), V came to the city with me and JT.  They took a look around Times Square and were largely unimpressed.

 We were early to the theater so we got some lunch and then rolled into the giant Toys R Us on Times Square.  And teenagers that they are, the boys quickly got into the spirit of things.

Even Thomas the Tank Engine had one last tour of duty.

I love the fact that these boys have been friends for so long that they aren’t afraid to goof around and be kids with another.  Even better is their shared assumption that Florida isn’t that far away when one is armed with instant messaging and air travel.

Pretty Sweet

I'm a long time mommy blog reader and on my list of regular check-ins is Sweetney.  She's written quite a bit about divorce and her thoughts, and the conversations among readers that ensued, helped me to think about my post-break-up life in some valuable ways.  Over the years, as it's gotten easier for me, I've never lost sight of the pain and challenges brought on by my family's explosion.  Reading and thinking about how others have handled it has helped me to find my way through the hurt.

This spring, Sweetney invited guest bloggers to weigh in with their own stories.  The series is called "Through the Fire" and this week my story was part of the conversation.  You can find my post for Sweetney here; the whole series is available here.

The challenge to write about my break-up experience ended up being a really good thing for me.  It offered me the chance to think about an event that once consumed my world and defined my sense of my self.  These days, it's a part of my history but not the defining moment of my life.  I'm glad of how far I've come and realize that it wouldn't have been possible without good friends, a supportive family, and this blog. 

Thanks, y'all.

Time

When I first started work in New Jersey, I struck up a friendship with J, the Spanish teacher who taught across the hall from me.  Many mornings, JT and I would stop in to say hi and JT, then age 3, would hop on the desks in J's classroom.  It's one of JT's fondest memories of his early years at school.

A few years have passed.  J has married M and they moved to two other continents before arriving in Washington D.C., where they've settled for a time.  And this summer, they had M, a baby as cute, charming and easy-going as his parents. 

Some day soon I hope that M will come visit my classroom and jump on the desks.  I think that JT could show him the ropes.

Oh Yes I Did

It's not just any friend to whom I can proclaim to the internet: your husband left his skivvies at my house.  But I am prepared to say that to N, whose husband C really did leave his skivvies behind.

Wait, y'all are thinking, "I thought she played for the other team." 

You can relax.  C and N came to visit our little corner of New Jersey and in the laundry madness, something got left behind.  I plan to mail them back.  But in the meantime, may I just say y'all should totally invite the Lincoln crew your way?  Tons of laughs, a reminder of the things I loved about the prairie, and two people who really love one another.  You can't ask for more than that.  Thanks for the visit.

Next time, we demand the whole dang family!

Easter Supper

My friend S and her son D joined JT and me for Easter supper.  I made some familiar favorites and the food was delicious, though I say it myself.

But the real pleasure of the evening was the company of good friends and plenty of laughter.  For that blessing, JT and I are incredibly grateful.

Princess: Jersey Style

When my next door neighbor, M, began the search for a princess to make a surprise appearance at her 4 year old daughter's birthday party, she asked me if I knew anyone who might be interested in the gig.

Did I know anyone?  Well I know Princess Krystalle. 

During the weekday, Princess K is an English major college student with a knack for playing lacrosse.  But during the weekend, her tiara comes out.

I nominated K for this job because she's spirited and fun.  I knew that she'd love the challenge and that the little girls, awash in their princess fantasies (and wearing their princess dresses) would be instantly enamored.  They were, of course.  Who doesn't imagine that a princess will come to their front door, armed with an extra tiara, glitter tattoos and shiny nail polish?

 A few years back, when my world went to hell in an afternoon, the Princess K was a high school senior with a wisdom and kindness well beyond her years.  She saved my bacon more than once doing those dark days, and she did it with a kind heart and enthusiasm for helping that made me think I could face yet another day.  Around this house, she's forever a princess.

More to the point for her weekend princess gig, she's the sort of person who will try anything once.  From the tips of her toes to the point on her tiara, she's loyal and kind.  She's not afraid to laugh in the face of adversity.  She knows that hard work and effort are the real foundations of success.  She can carry off a princess dress like nobody's business.  And if those aren't the qualification of a princess, well, then I'm afraid I don't know what is.

Thrill Seekers

For the last three years, we've marked the end of the summer by heading to a local water park with B and his mom J.  Our boys have been friends since they were 3 years old.  In fact, the first time they met they played in some water at a park, so it is fitting that their summer is not complete unless they have engaged in some water-related thrills.

Here they are in 2008, ready to hit the slides.

And in 2009, tired out at the end of the day.

For the first two years of our adventures, the boys mostly preferred to ride on tubes with their moms (those same moms hauled those tubes up the steps), only occasionally traveling down the slide on their own.   But in the last year, they've grown far more daring (J and I fear they are growing up…we're not quite ready for this development).  Time marches on even if your mama isn't ready and the boys are big and getting bigger.

This year, they treated the lines and the slides as a competition.  Who could get down first? (Hint: mostly the moms, as our ability to assess line length is a tad better than the 10 year old crowd).  They rode one slide that I refused to try.  It was called the Tornado and featured a steep drop and then a spin down the drain into a pool.  I didn't see this ending well for me.  It must be noted that J is much braver than I am; she would have gone down the Tornado in a heartbeat.  And while I watched as the boys waited in the Tornado line, she blithely shot down the steepest slides in the park.

At the end of our day in the sun, both boys had tan lines on their feet. 

And smiles on their faces. 

In a few weeks, these boys will head into the 5th grade.  Though I can't quite wrap my mind around it, it will be their eighth year in school together.  They have eight more years to go.  And I'm so glad that they have one another for the journey.

Friendship

These boys first met when they were 3 years old. B's mom J and I decided that pre-K would be more fun if our boys already had a buddy. So we met at a park and when the boys saw some puddles from an earlier rainstorm, a permanent friendship was cemented in their mutual delight in playing in the mud. They have been fast friends ever since.

And it goes without saying that finding another mom who is okay with a muddy play date spells the start of sound adult friendship.

They are finishing the 3rd grade today. Earlier this week, B came home with us after school. When a rainstorm erupted, it seemed like a fine idea for B to borrow a swimsuit from JT so they could head outside to run in the storm, armed with sticks, loud voices, and their imaginations.
As they carried on and played outside, some cars drove by. Nearly everyone honked or otherwise acknowledged these crazy little boys with their wide grins, white bellies and tanned arms (I call it the Little League tan).
This year, as we've come to school with 9 year olds who grow bigger by the minute, J and I have bemoaned the fact that our little boys are growing up. Childhood seems to pass so fast. And yet, there is this: the laughter of an enduring friend who's been around as long as you can remember. One who's willing to run around in the warm rain, help you out of the trash bin (who thought that was a good idea?). And laugh and laugh and laugh.

No Longer Taking My Calls

Over the weekend, my friend A and her cousin T joined us at Sassafras House to meet the parents and enjoy some post-Christmas cheer. My friend A has been my lifesaver on more than one occasion and regular readers will recall her cousin T from the bathroom re-tiling project earlier this month. Let's just say they are part of my (extensive) team of Jersey-based angels.

T is handy (and amazingly willing to help) so I asked her to bring a drill to hang the new outdoor clock that the Sassafras Sister gave me for Christmas. That project went off with out a hitch and looks great, ready for my summer back deck lounging pleasure:
Then T was also called into service to replace the toilet seat in the upstairs bathroom. The old seat suffered from a loose bolt and had become a pain in the backside (pun intended). It's not just any friend that you implore to help replace your toilet seat, of course. And it turns out that mine wasn't just any toilet seat. Affixed to the house since who knows when, the loose bolt on the seat was stuck. Thus, it could not be tightened to prevent the seat from moving. But neither could it be easily loosened to get a new seat on board.

Internet, I must apologize for inducing you to read about the toilet seat at my home. But imagine how much worse it would be for you if you were T, who not only had to hear about the toilet seat but got to fix it.

That entailed lying on the cold bathroom floor under the toilet. And while A suggested it wasn't the first night T had spent lying on a cold bathroom floor, we were all able to agree that it may have been her first time doing so while sober.

It took a lot of patience and more than an hour to loosen the bolts and replace the seat. T invoked very few swearwords, which is unheard of at this house when home improvement is on the agenda.

But now we have a new seat in the upstairs bathroom. One that doesn't move around. That's most happy.
And the cousins had their revenge by giving my family and I a complete drubbing in a new card game. So it wasn't a complete waste of an evening for A and T.

Buddies

The election got me a bit off-track, so my Halloween 2008 posting is a little late. But this posting is about more than Halloween; it's about a friendship that thrives on Halloween and all the days in between. So in that respect it's one of those postings that is always timely.

For several years now, JT has gone Halloween trick-or-treating with his friend D. The boys have been buddies since JT was just three and D was a year and a half years old. They are now eight and seven respectively and it is one of the blessings of their young lives that these boys just get one another. Blessed with a similar ability to suspend reality and live entirely in their imaginations, they can play together for hours and hours at a time, chattering and having fun.

In the last year, as JT has grown more self-aware, he's thought about his friendship with D and told me that they can always play together because of their willingness to believe in one another's make –believe games. JT recently told me, "It's okay with me if D wants to be an alien from the future because D lets me be a pirate from the past."

Well said, I think.

These boys have a happy Halloween past:

2005

2006

2007

And a present:

2008

It seems a pretty safe bet to count on their Halloween future.

Younger Men

Last weekend, in a fit of temporary insanity, I organized an end-of-school celebration for J.T. and 5 of his 1st grade classmates. We invited Krystalle to join the fun and she made the party a hit ------ helping to distribute pizza to the hungry masses, helping to quiet the shouting when we played the Pirates game, organizing the video show down, coordinating the arrangement of the sleeping bags, and generally ensuring that my last nerve didn't fly out the window.

And now that everyone in the first grade knows about JT's friend the college student, he's feeling like quite the Big Man on Campus.

In Praise of Krystalle and Allie J

I had a crummy day at work yesterday and then had to take JT to his seven year check-up, where he got a shot. JT was appropriately indignant about the shot, though he didn't cry. On the way home, I stopped and bought us a bottle of sparkly lemonade, one of my favorite treats. I thought that I'd pour us each a fancy glass and then we'd sit on the back deck to toast my growing boy and his bravery. Instead, the bottle fell out of the bag in the driveway and lemonade (and glass) spread all over.

As I cleaned up the glass in the driveway, I was feeling a little sorry for myself. And frustrated. And annoyed. I was trying to have a stiff upper lip and the universe seemed intent on punching me anyway.

But just as I was finishing my workout, Krystalle and Allie J pulled up in front of the house for a surprise visit. In they came, with cheese and a box of cereal (don't ask) and the energy and laughter that I badly needed. It was a wonderful surprise and an excellent way to call a halt to my pity party.

All Hail the Pizza Rat

I met J and her son B when I first started work at my school. Our boys are the same age and have been in school together for 4 years. They met at a play date nearly 4 years ago and both boys still talk about that day. We went to a park and when there was a bit of a rainstorm we let the boys play in the mud, washing them off in an outdoor pump before we got in our cars to go home. This is the equivalent of 3 year old nirvana and even now, at the jaded age of 7, they talk about that day.

Yesterday, we went to the Pizza Rat together. J had revealed her secret Pizza Rat strategy last summer: go at 4 pm on a weekday and it's quiet. The boys can run around and play for a couple of hours while the grown ups can visit and relax. It's actually quite lovely. I took this picture of our boys when they stopped just long enough for a photo to be snapped. They have been friends for more than half of their lives and I love that idea. That, some good company, and the laughter of two happy boys made for a nice mid-week break.

Monsoon

One of the things that I like the best about my school is the multicultural environment. It was the first thing I noticed when I interviewed at the school. My son takes for granted the fact that his classmates celebrate Passover, Christmas, Ramadan, Chinese New Year, and Diwali. The ease and beauty of this multiculturalism is sometimes lost on our students, who can't fathom that people would discriminate on the basis of race or religion.

But it isn't lost on me. And my fellow teacher, Mrs. D, who grew up in India and teaches Spanish, is a perfect example of our multicultural world. Mrs. D is my touchstone for all things Indian ----- from cuisine to cultural patterns and the pronunciation of words ----- and I love the sound of her lyrical voice. Like me, she is a relative newcomer to New Jersey. Like me, her family is far away. And like me, she has a son, R, a young man who is increasingly taller than his mother but still shares her infectious smile and whom I know to be the very center of her world. So for all of our differences, Mrs. D and I have much in common.

When it rained last week and we got two days off from school, Mrs. D and her son R got the day off as well. And that day I received an e-mail from her that made me smile. She wrote:

"....isn't it great to get a day off because of a rain storm? When I was young, in India, we used to get "Rainy Days" during the monsoon season. The Principal would declare a day off, we would all come home, and get out in the rain and get as wet as possible. Popular lore has it that if you get wet in the monsoon rain you never get any heat related illnesses that season. I never thought that R would get to experience that, but he just did. That's the first thing he said when he woke up today. "Mom, we finally got a Rainy Day!. "

I love the idea that here in the United States, Mrs. D's most American son could celebrate the same tradition that his mother enjoyed when she was a child in India. I picture the rain falling on his upturned face, the one with the same smile that was also present half a world away on the face of a little girl who stood in the rain not that long ago.